#i first wrote this somewhere during the summer

[reilemon]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Under The Stars ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

♡︎ pairing: Xavier x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎cw:unprotected sex, tent sex, semi-public sex, oral sex (male receiving), dry humping, pussy job, cum swallowing

♡︎word count: 3.9k

♡︎synopsis: What happens when you share a tent with your crush? The story starts where the memory Precious Bonfire ends.

♡︎a/n: I wrote this during my ovulation week. Also, I went over this once, so if you see any mistakes, no you don't.

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for reading and helping me with this!

banner by @cafekitsune

Xavier looks up from the game card “Ah, I figured out what I want my payment to be.” He smiles softly at you and hands you the card, “Tell me when you’re overwhelmed next time.”

A little confused, you absent-mindedly take the card that’s not even yours. “That doesn’t sound like a payment.”

“Well, it is.”

“No, it’s not. Think of something else!” You say with playfulness in your voice. Of course you don’t mind accepting to “pay him off” in this way, but he’s been so helpful and resourceful today, that you’d feel bad for asking for more assistance.

He just shakes his head and stands up from his seat in the camping van, and walks away. End of discussion, I guess.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

You spent a few minutes sitting alone in the van, decompressing, but also thinking of ways to return the favor. Seriously, what’s a good way to show him your gratitude? You know he’s not doing this because he expects something in return. Xavier is a genuine and sweet soul, someone who is reliable (except in the kitchen) with a soothing presence. He never seems overwhelmed, even when he lights his oven on fire.

You sigh wistfully. You were hoping he was going to say “Let’s go on a date!” or “Can I sleep in your tent?” or maybe “You know, the front of my pants is feeling a little tight, could you lend me a hand –“ you blush, hiding your face in your hands. If only.

You glance at your phone to look at the time. You decide you’ve spent enough time away from everyone, letting your mind wander – how big is it? – okay, you really need to focus and go back to your colleagues.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

The rest of the evening went uneventful – you hung out with your friends, cleaned up the mess and then took a relaxing shower. Somewhere between cleaning up and the shower, you swiped a pack of chocolate covered strawberries from the mafia game winner. You wanted those strawberries the moment your eyes landed on them in that pile of snacks.  And you’ll buy them later and give them back, so technically you’re borrowing them!

Besides, you want to give them to Xavier as a small thank you. He deserves more than this, but it will do for now.

Anyway, after the refreshing shower, you’re looking around the campsite. Most of your colleagues are cozying up in their tents, only a few still talking and drinking outside. Where’s Xavier?

You saw him earlier hanging out with others, but now… your eyes land on his figure, lounging by a tree away from all the tents.

You approach him. “There’s no way I’m letting you sleep outside.”

Xavier, not opening his eyes, says “I have no problem sleeping outside.”

“Well, as the captain of this group, I very much do.” You extend your arm towards him “C’mon, you can sleep in my tent.”

He opens his eyes as he hears the offer. “Are you – “

You grab his hand, “Yes, the tent is big enough for the two of us.” You suddenly remember that you only brought one blanket, but this summer night is nice and breezy so it shouldn’t be an issue.

Hesitant at first, Xavier nods and gets up while holding your hand. He moves his backpack to your tent and goes to take a shower, giving you time to change into pajama shorts and tank top; not really appropriate in this situation, but who cares!

As you spread out the blanket over the sleeping mat and two pillows, (yes, two, the other one was meant for your knees), you sit there waiting for him and then you realize – wow, it’s kinda fucking cold in here!

You were so focused on being a good captain and taking care of everyone that it completely slipped your mind that you should pack warmer pajamas and maybe a sleeping bag; it doesn’t matter that it’s summer, nights are always colder in the woods.

As you wonder if the blanket will be warm enough, from the corner of your eye you notice Xavier approaching the tent. He’s wearing a loose white t-shirt and gray cotton shorts. You move a little to make room for him, and when he crouches to step inside, your eyes are glued to his muscular legs. The staring makes you miss the way Xavier’s eyes take in your figure, the smooth skin of your thighs and your pebbled nipples poking underneath your top.

You quickly shift your gaze to his face; he’s looking around the tent. Suddenly you’re nervous. It hits you that you’ll be sleeping next to Xavier in this small ass tent. You feel an awkward tension, so you say “I hope this is enough room for you! I don’t have one more blanket but I do have an extra pillow!”

Xavier chuckles, and gives you a reassuring smile. “It’s good enough for me. I just hope you’re comfortable with this.”

“Of course I am!” You say very convincingly. As you nervously shift, your thigh grazes the box of strawberries. Right, I almost forgot! You take them and offer the box to him. “Here, a small token of my gratitude.”

He eyes the fruit, not taking them immediately. “Where did you get those?”

“The winner gave them to me.”

“Really?”

“I stole them.” You say with a shy smile. Some things are just impossible to hide from him.

He chuckles, “I’ll take them, but only if you have some as well.”

You agree and he opens the box, placing it between you two.

You’re the first one to try them, and you’re so pleased that your little crime paid off. And by Xavier’s little mm!  you know that he enjoys the sweetness of chocolate and the strawberries as well. You sit there for a while, eating and chatting about whatever; mostly about the books he’s been reading and the new game both of you started playing.

You don’t feel that tired anymore. It’s probably the shower that washed away all the fatigue of the day. And the adrenaline from talking, not only talking but sharing a tent and then later sleeping next to your crush. You’re actually so excited you could run laps around the campsite, but at the same time so flustered you don’t know what to do with yourself.

After you take another bite of the fruit, you notice that Xavier’s eyes are lingering on your lips? No, your cheek?

His hand slowly goes towards your face, and you stand still, unsure of what he wants. His ring finger gently wipes the corner of your mouth.

He smiles, “You had some chocolate there.”

When he’s about to lick his finger, you joke “Hey! You’re taking my chocolate!”

He stops for a second, looks at the finger, then at you. “You’re right. Do you want it back?” He asks with that teasing glint in his eyes as he holds the digit in front of your lips.

You’re stunned for a moment, trying to read the situation. Does he really want you to lick it off?

Okay, you can play along; with your eyes on his, you start to lick the chocolate. Xavier’s eyes widen for a split second, his lips slightly part as he watches you lick and suck his finger clean. It made his shorts tighter, and he hopes that you don’t notice the outline of his erection on his gray shorts.

And you’re so frustrated at yourself because of how wet this little interaction made you.

When you’re done, with a light blush on his cheeks, he pulls back his hand and clears his throat. “You’re really good at this.”

You only sheepishly smile and continue the conversation like nothing happened.  

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

“You didn’t bring a sleeping bag?” Xavier asks as you as you both get ready to sleep. It’s gotten late, it’s dead silent as everyone around you is sleeping or trying to fall asleep. You’re surprised that Xavier managed to stay awake this long.

You admit that you forgot the fact that it’s colder at night here than back in the city. “But the blanket should be big enough for both of us.” You offer to go ask someone for one more blanket, but he refuses and says that he’s worried about you being cold.

His eyes scan over your barely covered body “I can borrow you my hoodie. But it smells like campfire.”

“I’m gonna to be fine. Let’s just go to sleep.” You reassure him (and yourself). With that, both of you lie down, your backs turned, and cover yourself with a blanket that is not enough for two people.

Xavier lets you take most of it, but tries to not make it obvious, so he holds onto it, only his back covered.

Ten, fifteen, maybe twenty minutes pass, you don’t know. You just can’t fall asleep. Not only because your ass is freezing, but because he is lying right next to you. And judging by his deep breathing, he’s asleep. Of course he is. You turn on your back and stare at the stars peeking through the mesh screen of the tent. You don’t want to move around too much or step outside because you don’t want to wake him. He’s had an exhausting day too.

You turn on your side, facing his back. You can’t see much in the dark tent, the only light source being the moon and the stars, and faint fairy lights outside. But it’s visible enough to admire his light fluffy hair and how wide his back is. You crave to trace your fingers over his shirt, through his hair… you completely took over the blanket!

You cover his figure, but then you’re a little exposed. With a sigh, you move closer to him as quietly as possible. Now, time to turn around in the same manner. But, Xavier is already switching to his other side, turning to you, and you’re so close, almost nose to nose and he opens his eyes.

You’re holding in your breath, freezing in place. “Sorry.” You whisper. “I just wanted to cover you.”

His sleepy eyes stare at yours, then at your lips. It takes him a second to register your words. “You’re still awake?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you cold?”

You take second before answering “Maybe.”

“Turn around.”

You do as you’re told expecting him to roll you into the blanket like a burrito and then you’d feel really bad. Those thoughts evaporate when you feel his warm arm slip around your waist, pulling your back against his strong, yet soft, chest, while his lower body keeps a respectful distance.

His breath tickles the skin of your neck, making you shiver. “Is this okay?”

You only muster a squeaky ‘mhm’, and then he falls silent again, with his face nuzzled against your neck. You close your eyes, and try to count sheep.

One sheep…two sheep… your arm gets uncomfortable so you place it over his that’s resting on your waist, the contact making his hand search your hand, entangling his fingers with yours, and then pulling you in a tighter embrace.

Exhaling a shuttering breath, you continue… three sheep… you’ve been keeping your legs pin straight this whole time and they’re starting to feel stiff and sore. But if you bend them, they’ll be exposed to cold air, but if you curl up you’ll be pressing your butt against Xavier’s crotch, or at least lower belly.

Four sheep…

The gentle whisper of your name against your ear makes you yelp. You thought he fell asleep.

Xavier repeats your name, and you can hear the smirk on his lips “Position yourself however you please. I want you to be comfortable.”

You exhale a breath you’ve been holding. “Okay.”

You move into the fetus position, making yourself as comfortable as possible, warm in his embrace, your bottom keeping an awkward distance from his lower half.  You bite your bottom lip and try to regulate your breathing. He can probably feel how fast your heart is beating. You think how it’s unfair that he can feel how flustered you are.

You feel his slow heartbeat, but you can’t see his feverish red cheeks.

“Is it better now?” He asks.

“Yeah, it’s just that...” It’s just that your legs and buttocks are still cold.

When you don’t finish your sentence, he nudges your neck with his nose. “Your legs are cold.”

The hand on your waist moves and his fingers lightly glide over your upper thigh. When you don’t protest, he starts caressing, warming up your skin. The contact makes you hot between your legs, making you unconsciously rub your thighs and arch your back, your butt backing up against his front. 

You immediately flinch, jolting your middle forward outside the covers. “Sorry.” You mumble, your cheeks burning in embarrassment, your body staying in that awkward position.

Xavier can’t help but laugh at the position you’re in. He rubs your shoulder in an attempt to console you. “It’s okay. I don’t mind”

It takes you a few seconds to muster up the courage to go back under the cover, closing the distance between your bodies, letting him spoon you.

You feel like you could melt in his arms; he’s so warm, smells like fresh linen and herbal hair shampoo. Even though you’re still nervous, your body is able to relax and press further against him, unintentionally grinding your soft bottom against his quickly hardening length.

Your pussy clenches as you feel his clothed hard dick against you. He doesn’t say anything, but shift a little further from you.

You don’t know if it’s the weariness, the horniness, or the boldness (if you can call it that), that makes you whisper. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” And you close the distance again, this time slowly sliding your ass against him to prove your point.

A shuddering breath leaves his lips, as he starts moving at your pace. He shifts to rest on his elbow and his hand moves up to cup your cheek, and you turn to face him, your hips halting the movement.

He gazes into your eyes and nudges the tip of your nose with his. He softly breathes your name and his soft warm lips leave a feather light kiss on yours. He waits for your reaction with those puppy eyes that always make you weak.

With the hand that was under you, you hold the side of his face and pull him into a soft kiss. Your lips softly graze and nip as Xavier adjusts his body, elbows resting on either side of your head, his chest resting against yours, but his pelvis is hovering against yours.

You decide to be the one to take the next step; fingers of one hand run through his hair as you deepen the kiss, your tongue glosses his bottom lip and slipping inside, tasting his. The other hand pushes down his lower back, and he takes the hint.

You gasp into the kiss as his dick grinds right between your clothed folds, grazing your clit just right. Your cheeks and core are burning as Xavier starts rutting waster and harder, you can feel his heartbeat pounding against your chest. Both of you are panting between kisses, suppressing moans and whines.

He breathes against your lips “We should stop.” When he notices a flash of disappointment on your face, he adds, “It’s so easy to hear everything here.”

You nod. “Yeah, you’re right.” You gulp and take in deep breaths. Your tent is the furthest from the rest, but still close enough to hear if someone is getting it on.

He rolls over to his side, still facing you. His eyes take in your features as his fingertips graze over them. He pulls you in by the back of your head into a slow kiss. Your lips taste each other, tongues licking, his teeth playfully nibbling your bottom lip.

The hand on the back of your hand travels over your jaw to hold your chin, and a deep sigh leaves his lips. He whispers, “It’s so hard to hold back.” and the continues tasting your plump lips.

Those words make your panties wetter than they were. You throw your leg over his hips and soon you’re straddling him, and his arms envelop you, pressing your body flush against his, his hips bucking up to meet yours once again.

But you crave more contact and so does Xavier. At the same time, Xavier pulls down his shorts and you take off yours. A whimper escapes your lips as you sit back down on his rock hard dick, your sexes only separated by thin fabric.

He pulls you into a deep, hungry kiss, his hands grabbing your ass, moving your hips in the same rhythm with his. The friction feels so good, too good. Your pussy is creaming so much, making a mess of your panties and his boxer briefs. Then he shifts his hips a little and his cockhead starts hitting and rubbing your clit over and over, and you’re mewling and panting into the sloppy kiss.

He smirks against your lips. “Honey, I need you to stay quiet. I don’t want anyone else to hear you like this.”

The heat pools in the bottom of belly. “Xavier, I’m close.”

“Yeah? Is my little bunny feeling good?” He pants, and by the twitching of his cock, you think he’s close too.

You hold back a disappointed whine when he puts a distance between your hips, but then you feel him push down his boxers freeing his throbbing dick. He pulls your panties to the side and brings your hips back down, your dripping pussy lips sliding against his thick length, and he immediately locks your lips with his, swallowing your moan.

He has you in a tight embrace, one hand on the plump flesh of your ass and the other on the back of your neck. His lips leave a wet trail from your lips over your jaw to the shell of your ear, and you listen to his restrained pants and grunts.

His hot breath fans over your ear “Let’s come together.” He pulls up both of your shirts a bit, and you feel his hard ab muscles tensing against your skin.

You can only nod as the tip starts hitting your clit again, and in a few seconds you’re coming undone on top of him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, muffling your moans.

Xavier follows shortly after, his cum spilling over both of your bellies.

You take a moment to calm down and you notice that he’s still as hard. You come up to meet his gaze.

His eyes are veiled with so much lust and craving. “I – “

“Please, fuck me.” You need more.

With those three magic words, he’s on top of you again, his shirt and the blanket disregarded somewhere in the corner. He pushes your tank top over your breasts, his hot lips latching onto your nipple while his fingers play with the other one, while his cock is sliding with ease between your slippery folds.

You know that he wants to prep you more, but you feel like you’ve been edged for too long, your hole clenching around nothing.

Xavier’s breath hitches against your nipple when you reach down and wrap your hand around his member, feeling how long and thick he is (he’s longer than your thought).

He comes up and holds your gaze as you tease the tip against your soaking entrance “I need you now.”

His hand switches with yours, slowly easing into you, his gaze never leaving yours. He swallows thickly, and cursing under his breath as he feels your walls clench around him.

And you’re a mess under him, biting your lip to contain your moans and whines, but your pussy is already fluttering around his length, second orgasm building up.

When he’s finally buried to the hilt, he rests his body on top of yours, neither of you caring about the slippery cum between you, if anything it spurs you on even more.

He slowly starts rolling his hips, his lips leaving open mouth kisses over your collar bone and your neck. You fingers find purchase in his hair and nails lightly scrape the skin over his taut back muscles. In your daze you take a moment to admire his strong back and then you move your hand from his back to grab his biceps. Fuck, you wish there was more light here.

Xavier’s lips lock with yours in a sloppy kiss, his tip grazing your sweet spot with every thrust while his fingertips rub your sensitive bundle of nerves. His voice is raspy from all the strangled groans, “You’re squeezing me so hard, princess. Are you gonna come for me?”

You only manage a small moan in response, and you don’t even care if you’re loud. And the wet smacking of his pelvis against your creamy cunt is already giving you away.

You barely give any warning as suddenly another orgasm crashes over you, his free hand covering your mouth. He coos in your ear that’s right and you’re so pretty and sweet names that you barely register as you whimper against his hand and your pussy spasms around his cock.

As you come down from your high, he picks up the pace and soon you notice him twitching inside you, his hips stuttering and his pants becoming shallower.

He murmurs “Where do you want me?”

You fight back the urge to say ‘inside’, you want him to fill you up so bad, but now is not the place to make that kind of mess.

Still, you don’t want spill it outside. “Use my mouth.”

His face burns and his dick painfully throbs at those words. You rest on your elbows as he pulls out and straddles your waist, his hand resting on your head.

You let him guide the tip past your lips, and you swirl your tongue around it tasting your mixed juices. He swallows a moan as you take him in deeper; swollen lips enveloping his cock, tongue swirling, tasting him, and grazing his pulsing veins, and he can’t help the pang of jealousy that hits him with how good you’re at this.

Pushing those thoughts back, he caresses your cheekbone with his thumb. “You’re taking me so good.”

He starts thrusting, unable to hold back much longer. He whispers between pants “Tap my arm if I go too hard.”

You hum against his length, focused on relaxing your throat as his cockhead starts hitting more and more with each thrust and stutter of his hips.

You feel him throb hard in your mouth, and his hand travels under your chin. You hear him demand with a strangled groan “Look at me.”

Your eyes lock with his, the sight of you sucking him in with a fucked-out face making him tip over the edge, filling your mouth with his hot cum.

He takes shaky breaths as he twitches in your mouth as you suck him and swallow each drop, not letting anything go to waste.

After he pulls out, he sits next to you and gives you a chaste kiss on the lips.

He holds your face in his hands, his nose nudging yours. “Are you okay?”

You nod and kiss him again. And then you feel cold air hit the wet spots on your body. You chuckle “We need to get cleaned up, though.”

With that, you wipe yourselves with wipes and dress up to make an awkward walk towards the bathroom. You just hope that no one heard what you were doing in the tent. Or the shower.

[frost-queen]

Tempting fate (Reader!Featherington x Colin Bridgerton)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

The night was out. Chilled but rather comforting on the skin. You were outside, waiting as your sister had already taken the carriage in a haste. Not a few moments ago she had a little encounter with Colin Bridgerton. One that you witnessed from afar. You could tell by your sister’s expression that she was displeased. Distressed to say the least. Once again had Colin Bridgerton said something to upset your sister. It was getting out of hand and you hated him for it. Hating how he toggled with your sister’s feelings.

They had been friends for a while now, but your sister desired more. He was the only good gentleman that gave her attention during the balls. Even if it was just a little. It wasn’t his first slip, but this time you clearly had enough of him. Now that your sister had run off with the carriage, you were left to return home on your own. Waiting for the carriage to return to the estate of this night’s ball would take awfully long.

Rubbing your arms gently, you hesitantly decided what to do. Go or stay? Slightly turning your head you noticed in the corner of your eye a figure approach. Once you fully got a glimpse of him, you rolled your eyes with annoyance. – “Y/n.” – Colin said approaching you. – “Good night Mr. Bridgerton.” – you answered coldly turning your posture away from him. – “Do you not need a chaperone?” – he asked making you stop in your way. With a deep sigh, trying to temper your annoyance down, you turned back to him.

“Certainly not from you.” – you answered with a forced smile. He stared confused at you. Trying to process the meaning of your words. He slightly came closer to you. – “Did…did I say something to offend you?” – he questioned. You scoffed making him furrow his brows dumbfound. Colin and you hadn’t been the closest, yet he considered himself acquainted with you through your sister. – “To my sister you did!” – you bit back finding his act of stupidity tiring.

“Pen?” – Colin. – “I…I don’t understand.” – he answered. – “Why do you minimize my sister?” – you asked him boldly. Colin was taken back by your reply, looking surprised at you. – “Minimize… no, Y/n… I…I wrote to your sister everyday this summer with little reply.” – he said with a charming smile. You smiled in return as Colin flourished from seeing you smile. Yet your smile had other intensions. – “Oh, yes I know all about the letters you wrote her. Letting her know about all your adventures. I am well aware of that Colin!” – you pressured on.

Colin chuckled nervously. – “Are… are you going to make me say it out loud?” – he responded feeling a bit foolish. You quirked your eyebrow up unintrigued.  – “I missed her.” – he told you. You busted out in a laugh. – “You miss her?” – you positioned yourself stronger, fiercer to go up against your sister’s good friend. – “You miss her, but you would never court her is that correct?”

“Y/n I…” – Colin started finally losing a bit of his  boyish foolishness towards you. – “I overheard you!” – you called out. – “At my mama’s ball last season… telling everyone you would never ever court Penelope Featherington.” – You felt yourself get a bit emotional, defending your sister against her best friend. Against the one she loved. Some voices approached as it drew Colin’s attention briefly away from you. – “Bridgerton.” – one of them greeted as they passed. Colin bowed his head to them before leaning a bit closer to you. Lowering his voice he spoke – “Perhaps we should go where there’s somewhere private?” – he suggested.

“Because I embarrass you?” – you said loud enough for anyone walking around to hear. – “My sister can change her entire wardrobe and gain confidence but that would never take away that she is the laughingstock of the ton.” – you outed in anger. – “My sister doesn’t deserve a cruel man like yourself in her life.” – you picked up the hem of your dress. – “Good night Sir!” -  you saluted coldly at him before taking off in the night. Colin watched you leave with a certain guilt eating at him.

Two days later you were with your sisters and mama at a garden event. Your sisters sitting down in a chair underneath a tent, waving themselves some cool. Your mother was chatting with some of the other mother’s. You had no idea where Penelope was. You on the other hand were playing battledores and shuttlecock’s with some of the other season’s participants.

You stood on one side with a girl you were quite familiar with. On the other side were two gentleman. The shuttlecock went high up in the air as the boys knocked it to each other. You were waiting for the shuttlecock to come your way to hit it to her and then back to the boys without it touching the ground.

Somehow your attention got drawn away from the heavens. Seeing Colin Bridgerton clearly look for someone not far from you. – “Miss Y/n!” – one of the men called out as the shuttlecock went your way. Your attention was back as you calculated the moment your battledore hit the shuttlecock. The shuttlecock went up in the air as you thought back of annoying Colin.

The shuttlecock came down once more as you needed to pass it to your companion. Yet you let the shuttlecock come lower, batting it away with your battledore towards Colin. You watched as it hit him in the head. The shuttlecock fell in his hand as he looked down at it confusingly. Rubbing his sore head with the other one. The girl at your side pointed firmly at Colin to go and fetch it. You sighed loud going over to him. The moment Colin noticed you approach, he dropped to a bow. – “My shuttlecock.” – you said offering your hand for him to lay it in.

 ���You hit me.” – Colin responded. – “Must have slipped.” – you responded sarcastic. Colin was all but amused. – “Now my shuttlecock.” – you insisted upon. Colin was about to give it to you till he changed his mind last moment. He had taken a deep breath, moving the shuttlecock behind his back. – “I’ll give it back if you allow me to apologise first.” – he started throwing a charming smile at you. – “You should apologise to my sister.” – you made clear not wanting an apology from him.

Colin tensed his jaw, as he had hoped for another outcome. – “I…Y/n.” – he sighed out. – “I don’t require your useless apology. My sister needs to be apologized to.” – you told him clearly. Colin sighed loud getting worked up by your attitude towards him. – “Fine! If you don’t accept my apology, you might not even deserve it.” – he snapped back. – “I don’t even want it!” – you fired back. – “Fine!” – he finished. – “Fine!” – you repeated loud.

“Good luck getting this back than!” – he showed you the shuttlecock again. You slapped your hand at it as Colin had pulled it away in time. – “Give it back!” – you called out to him, getting some attention from bystanders. – “You don’t deserve this.” – he mocked, taunting you by showing you the shuttlecock just out of reach. You groaned annoyed as he moved it behind his back. You knocked into him full force to reach for it behind his back. A bit too forceful perhaps?

Colin stumbled backwards as you fell with him. With a loud oof fell you on him. Now having the full attention of those around you. You were very much aware of the staring eyes. You pushed yourself hard off him. He felt the air get sucked out of his lungs. – “Eat it!” – you cursed at him storming off. Colin sat up, swallowing nervously at the sudden attention. Getting up, he saw Penelope look his way. He shamefully turned his head away, getting up and taking his leave.

**

Lights were flickering in the warmth of the room. Music filled the room. Dancers were taking in the centre of the room. You stood by the side with your two other sisters and mama. Your gaze went across the room. When your eyes fell upon Colin, you glared at him. He glared back at you, turning his head proudly away. You stubbornly looked away as well. Looking down, you fidgeted on your dress. Somehow it pained you to see him act so coldly towards you.

You didn’t intend on doing so but the more time you spend with Colin, arguing and bickering, the more you felt drawn to him. You shouldn’t be falling for him, but yet you were. Some novels say that you grow more attracted to those things you hate the most with frequency. This might be the case for Mr. Bridgerton and you. Mama nudged you hard making you lift your chin back up. She gestured to you, to smile so you could attract more eligible men.

Not being in the mood for her interfering, you took off. Blending through the crowd to escape her. Pushing yourself through the crowd. Coming to a brief stop, you came face to face with your sister Penelope. Your eyes widened briefly before you rushed off to the hallway to avoid her. Penelope blended with the crowd, lowering her head when she saw Colin near. He was clearly in pursuit of someone.

Almost panting he disappeared through the same door you had left moments ago. It made Penelope think doubtfully. You exhaled loud setting your hands on the desk from the room you had run off to. Clutching your heart, you felt it beat faster. Faster then it normally did. Was this Colin’s doing? Shaking your head you didn’t want to think about him. It was wrong to think of his that way. Your sister was madly in love with him. You couldn’t… not for the sake of her. – “Y/n.” – you jumped back startled at the hearing of your voice.

Colin had entered the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. You rounded the desk, creating more distance between you and him. – “Shouldn’t you dance with my sister.” – you sarcastically suggested to him. He exhaled soft, practically done with your flight modus. Done with how you kept pushing yourself away and shoving your sister to the front. – “Y/n.” – Colin started as you didn’t want to hear it. – “You keep doing it Colin. You keep minimizing my sister.” – you told him.

“Ignoring every hint she throws at you, and you too blind to see it. I hate how you ridicule my sister’s feelings towards you. She is not some object.” – you ranted out as Colin came nearer, going round the desk to reach you. – “You tell her you miss her, but you won’t court her. Why?” – you asked desperate. – “I can’t court her.” – he answered standing face to face with you.

“Why?” – you repeated wanting to have a clear answer. Colin felt himself be swept up by the heated moment. – “I just can’t.” – he responded loudly feeling his hands tremble to get a hold on you. – “Answer me. Clearly!” – you called out getting up in his face. – “Because I want you!” – Colin shouted back, practically panting from the tension released inside of him. Your eyes widened.

Colin grabbed for your face. The hell with being a gentleman. The hell with your reputation and his. In this moment he just wanted you. He forced himself forwards, pressing his lips on yours. Your gaze widened more at his touch. His lips gently brushing against yours as you fell under his spell. Giving in to the sensation as it was beyond this world.

Butterflies flattering around inside till they suddenly dropped with realisation. Guilt. You pushed Colin off, breaking off the kiss. Colin blinked confused at you breaking it off. Stunned you held your hand before your mouth. As if something was stolen from your lips. A kiss perhaps? – “My sister…” – you whispered out knowing just how much she loved him. – “Y/n…” – Colin said wanting to approach you.

“No!” – you called out clear, taking a step back. – “I…I can’t do this…” – you told him running around the desk. Throwing the door open and taking your leave. Colin went around the desk as well, standing in the door opening. One last attempt to call out to you, but you were out of reach.

Exhaling deep, he lowered his head, heart broken at the loss of touch. He never courted Penelope but he found himself falling for you. Her sister. The sister that yelled at him. That wasn’t afraid to speak back even when some might find it out of turn. He liked how sincere you were, but also caring and free. A bright personality when one got to know you, truly know you.

Penelope bit the sour apple down. A single tear fell down her cheek, yet her face stood bitter. Bitter with hatred for what she had just seen. Her own sister fleeing a room with Colin Bridgerton showing himself in the door opening. It was clear to anyone that you had been in there privately with him.

Penelope made her way to the carriage. Rushing to get home. In the carriage she pulled out a piece of parchment from her reticule. The carriage hobbled yet she maintained balance. Taking out a pencil, she set it down on the parchment.

Dearest gentile reader…

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  [read part 2 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7 & part 8 & part 9 & part 10]

[punkshort]

Hi again !! I wanted to know if one day you could write a one-shot based off of this prompt:

“But I wanted to do that with you! You could have asked me!"

I tried to do something with this myself but failed miserably 😭

This is my current oldest request, apologies for taking so long to get through these. Okay here goes nothing:

Five Senses

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You catch Joel sneaking off to do something in the middle of the night and curiosity gets the best of you.

Warnings: language, m!masturbation, smut (18+ MDNI), some descriptions of violence and gore, angst, yearning

WC: idk I wrote it on my phone - maybe 2K?

The fire was out by the time you woke. Was it time for your turn on watch? It had to have been. So why didn't Joel wake you?

Slowly, you rolled onto your back and looked around, your eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness surrounding you. The woods were quiet. Not a single twig snapped, no leaves rustled nor bird sang. Even the wind was still. The loudest thing was your heavy breathing and your heart beating in your ears.

Where was he?

Panic gripped you then. Did something happen? He never strayed too far out, especially when the weather was fair. It brought out infected, easily the biggest downfall of living in the wilderness during summer.

"Joel?" you whispered into the dark abyss, sitting up in your sleeping bag in the process. You strained your ears, flared your nostrils, using all your available senses when sight was questionable, just like he taught you that first week after you ran into each other. It was years ago, now, but you remembered it like it was yesterday.

He saved you. He didn't know who you were, he didn't have to answer your screams of terror, but he did. Just when your arms were growing weak from holding the infected above you, it's snapping jaw so close you had to push back into the dirt to keep it from grazing you, there was a loud explosion. Then you were covered in wet, dead brains and pieces of bone, but you were alive.

He hauled the carcass off you and you furiously began to wipe the carnage from your face, worried it would still somehow get into your bloodstream.

"Here," he had said, handing you a used blue washcloth. You snatched it and whispered your gratitude, wiping off your face more throughly so you could stand and get a good look at your savior.

At the time, you chalked it up to adrenaline, but you felt like you fell in love the moment you first locked eyes. Those deep, beautiful brown eyes that could look right through you, that gazed at you with so much concern when he patched you up after scuffles with raiders, that glared at you when you fucked up and almost gave away your position, that squinted when he laughed at something you said over the fire.

It took a few weeks, maybe a month, but you eventually determined adrenaline wasn't to blame. You were hopelessly in love with Joel Miller, and you never once had the courage to tell him. Never once tried to kiss him, tried to do anything except stare at him when his back was turned, allowing your eyes to greedily take in his broad shoulders and thick, curly, tuggable hair.

He never looked at you like that. God, you wished he would, but he was far too focused. His only concern was survival. Sometimes you wondered how he was able to function properly on so little sleep. Sleep was his only luxury, and he rarely allowed himself to relish in it. It didn't matter how many times you told him you could keep watch the whole night, or on the rare occasions he found you a cabin or shed, he refused to let his guard down.

So where was he now?

Slowly, you stood, your right hand brushing against your handgun which was tucked into your leg holster. You took a steadying breath, trying to quiet yourself so you could listen to your surroundings. Pay attention, stay alert, step lightly.

That was when you first heard it. Panting, or gasping, somewhere to your right. Oh, god, what if he was hurt? What if something happened and you were sleeping, leaving him to bleed out, or worse?

You pulled out your gun and gripped it with both hands, aiming it at the ground as you quickly made your way towards the noise, your heart slamming against your ribs, fear squeezing your throat, but you stayed focused. You had to. For him.

But as you got closer, when it sounded like he was just on the other side of a thick tree trunk, you realized you were very wrong. Your feet became rooted to the ground as you listened to the unmistakable sound of skin against skin, of fabric rustling rhythmically together, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You felt your cunt throb when you heard his soft groans and you knew you should have left, you should have given him privacy, but you didn't. You couldn't. You ached for him for so long and not one time had you ever seen this side to him. He never so much as flirted with you, even just innocently, so you weren't willing to let this moment pass you by.

The clouds finally parted and the moon shined down, trickling through the thick forest. Opening your eyes, you could now see his shadow reflecting on the forest floor. You could see how fast his fist worked himself over, you could hear how eager he was for release, you could practically smell his sweat from where you were standing.

But then something happened.

He groaned again, but that time he groaned your name.

You were certain of it, unless you were in a dream and your mind was playing tricks on you.

He groaned your name.

Before common decency had a chance to catch up, you spoke, interrupting him.

"Joel?"

The sounds ceased. It was deathly quiet, and you feared you made a huge mistake. What were you thinking?

He said your name again, but it was a question. No breathy moans slipped from his mouth this time.

"What's wrong?"

He came around the tree appearing put together, and if it weren't for the flush in his cheeks and the tightness of his jeans, you might have convinced yourself it was all a mirage.

"Nothing. W-what are you doing?"

His eyes flickered around in shame, looking everywhere but at you.

"What did you hear?" he finally asked softly.

"I heard enough."

He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

"Listen-" he began, but you cut him off.

"I wanted to do that with you. You could have asked me."

His eyes popped back open in shock and it felt like time stood still. Oh, fucking hell, what were you doing?!

"What?"

Well, there was no going back now. You reholstered your gun and took a tentative step forward.

"You said my name," you told him, voice barely above a whisper. You could see him swallow as you inched closer.

"I did."

"Were you thinking... of me?" you squeaked. Slowly, he nodded, and that time if he felt any shame, he didn't show it. "I think about you, too," you confessed, taking another step closer.

"You do?"

You nodded, biting your lower lip nervously as you continued to advance. "All the time."

"Fuck," he groaned, then quickly closed the remaining distance between you. He grabbed your face with both hands, cupping your jaw, and smashed his mouth hungrily against yours.

When he swiped his tongue across your lower lip, you could have melted into the ground right then and there. Was this really happening?

His tongue slid past your lips, exploring your mouth with his jaw pried open as if he were trying to swallow you whole. And you would let him, if that's what he wanted. You trusted him with your life, you craved his touch, dreamt about the taste of his lips, and fantasized about what he would do to quell the constant ache between your legs.

Joel walked you backwards, back towards camp. Your eyes were closed and you refused to remove yourself from his mouth, so you relied on your ears and feet to guide you through sound and touch, but you knew it didn't matter. Joel had you, and he never let anything bad happen. He wouldn't allow it.

He eased you down onto his sleeping bag before he finally broke the kiss, both your chests heaving from the effort to drag in much needed air as you each worked on removing your clothes as quickly as possible. You knew Joel so well by now that he wouldn't want you to be too exposed, just in case, so you only focused on your lower half, and he did the same.

"Are you sure?" he asked when he was kneeling between your legs, poised to enter you. You spread your legs wider and nodded. You wanted to tell him you'd been waiting for so long, that you couldn't stand another second without him, but when you felt that delicious sting between your legs when he first pressed forward, your mind went blank.

"So tight," he gritted out, fingers digging mercilessly into your hips, no doubt leaving circular bruises you would cherish for days.

You cried out his name when he finally fully sheathed himself inside you, only to have him clamp his palm over your mouth.

"Gotta be quiet," he reminded you, but his voice was tender and his breath was ragged and you had a feeling his warning was for you both.

When you nodded, he slid his hand away and groaned quietly as he shifted his weight slightly on top of you before slowly pulling almost all the way out. His eyes flicked up to meet yours so he could watch your face contort when he slammed back in, something animalistic coming alive inside him at the way your back arched and your jaw hung open, a silent scream on your lips every time he rolled his hips and stretched you open, molding you to him.

Your senses came alive as he fucked steadily into you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with every forceful thrust. Every grunt sounded like a melody, every greedy stroke of his fingers left a firey trail. When he could tell you were both getting close, his mouth crashed over yours again and you tasted the metallic flavor of his blood from where he had bit down too hard on his lip.

"I'm gonna find someplace for us," he whispered, voice trembling from the way your walls squeezed around him. "Someplace we can live. Someplace safe."

You nodded your head deliriously, too focused on the steady rise of your orgasm, your stomach tensing each time his cock brushed up against one particular spot that made it difficult to breathe.

"Then you can be as loud as you want," he continued, mouth dipping to bite and suck on your neck. Your fingers twisted in the fabric of his flannel, the worn material begging to be torn under your grip. "Just me and you. I'll take care of you. Won't let anythin' bad happen."

You nodded again, tears pricking your eyes.

"Would you like that?" he asked, his words muffled by your skin as he continued to lick and kiss and suck on the column of your throat, leaving more marks to serve as a reminder that night happened, that what you had was real.

"Yes," you moaned, "oh, god, yes, Joel, it's all I've ever wanted."

You thought you heard him whimper but then his hips began to snap roughly against you, sending shockwaves through your body with each devastating stroke.

"Joel, I think I'm gonna-" you gasped and cut yourself off, your vision blurring for a moment before his hand pressed firmly over your mouth once again, capturing your cries while your body tensed and slowly began to relax underneath him. Not until your eyes reopened did he remove his hand to be replaced with his mouth. You bent your legs so your knees were pressed against the sides of his ribs, holding him close, your tongue licking feverishly behind his teeth.

At the last moment, he yanked his hips back and spilled his seed all over the inside of your thighs, keeping his mouth pressed firmly against yours until he was done painting your skin milky white.

"All this time?" he panted, gazing down at you while you both took a few moments to recover. "All these years?"

You nodded and brushed some of his hair away from his sweaty forehead. "From the first day."

His eyes slid closed in disbelief. "Why didn't you tell me? We wasted so much time."

You smiled and sighed, breathing in the cool night air. It was going to rain soon, you could smell it.

"All we have is time."

[s-ublimewrites]

xanax (melissa schemmenti x f!reader)

synopsis: melissa needs a push to make a much-needed change in her life

words: 2.9k

warnings: swearing, mild angst (mel & reader argue), gary bashing, republicanism mention

note: i wrote part of this, didn't touch it for eight months, picked it back up, and now here we are: another fic where nothing actually happens between mel & r, but also everything happens. enjoy!

“Don’t go in there yet,” Janine stops you before you can enter the teacher’s lounge. 

“Uh, why not?” You prepare to step around her and she blocks your path. 

“Y/n, it’s tense in there right now,” she insists. She’s stress sweating, you notice. 

Your brow furrows. “Janine, it’s the first day. It’s…” you check your watch, “7:04am. How is it already tense?”

Janine checks over her shoulder and lowers her voice slightly. “So, you know Gary? Melissa’s vending machine guy?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Yeah, you know Gary. You are, in fact, acutely aware of Gary’s presence in Melissa’s life. Listen, you’re super happy for Melissa - she seems to like him, they just spent the summer in Jersey Shore together. You just think it’s kind of weird how he relates everything to vending machines. And you’re kinda wary of asking Melissa who he voted for in 2016. And 2020. And, okay, maybe seeing him kiss her goodbye in the break room makes you want to puke. Whatever. 

“I’m familiar,” you say to Janine.  

Her eyes flick to the cameras, then back to you. “Okay. Well. On the last day of their Jersey Shore trip, something happened. Melissa is pissed and Barbara totally knows why and I think they’re maybe mad at each other about it? Anyway it’s basically a war zone in there and you need to tread very carefully, Y/n.”

There’s genuine fear in Janine’s voice. Poor girl has definitely suffered the wrath of Melissa Schemmenti this morning. 

“Do you know what happened?” you ask. 

Janine shakes her head. “No, but Barb keeps shaking her head all disapprovingly and saying ‘Melissa Ann Schemmenti, just you wait until Y/n gets here,’ so…” 

Her Barb impression is… pretty bad. You don’t comment on it. 

“Ah,” you say, “so I’m the bomb-defusing robot you’re sending in so Melissa will stop being mean to everyone. I see.” 

Somewhere during your time at Abbott, grumpy Melissa has become your responsibility. Not that you mind very much. You like being the only one that can get through to her when she’s like this; you like that everyone knows it, too. 

“If rugs are Xanax for second graders,” Janine says, “you’re Xanax for Melissa. Good luck!” 

Janine scurries off and you take a deep breath. Here goes nothing, you suppose. 

It’s just Barb and Melissa in the lounge — you figure the palpable tension that hangs between them has scared everyone else off. They sit at different tables, decidedly not talking. Melissa’s face is buried in her phone, glasses on the end of her nose, and Barb stares at the yogurt that she’s stirring but not eating. 

“Good morning,” you offer softly as you step into the room, trying to give an air of ‘I’m perfectly normal and don’t know anything about your potentially-failing relationship.’

Melissa’s eyes flick up from her phone, landing briefly on you before she returns to whatever is on her screen. Barb, though, snatches up her bag and her yogurt and is on her feet moving toward you. 

“Maybe you can talk some sense into this one,” Barb says to you furiously. She keeps walking, heading right past you, and slams her yogurt into the trash before exiting the room. Somewhere in this time, the camera crew has the good sense to scram.

You look at Melissa. She looks back at you. 

“What?” she all but spits - angry, sure, but also upset. Hurt by something. Someone. Your hatred for the vending machine guy is set in stone. 

“C’mon, you don’t get to be mad at me - I literally just got here,” you remind Melissa and drop into the seat next to hers. 

Melissa doesn’t say anything, but she looks at you with less loathing. It’s a good first step. 

“You traumatized Janine,” you reattempt. 

“A strong gust of wind could traumatize Janine,” Melissa mutters. She puts down her phone and finally looks at you, moving her glasses to sit atop her head. “Why? What’d she say t’ya?” 

You remember Janine’s words — tread carefully. “Not much. Something about things being tense with you and Barb… Something about Gary.”

Melissa’s jaw sets and she looks at her lap and she doesn’t say anything. 

“Did you fight?” your voice is gentle.  

Melissa plays with her fingers and shakes her head. “No. Well, I don’t know. Kind of? I don’t know. Maybe.” 

You stay quiet while she thinks about this (you didn’t intend for it to be such a difficult question, but you don’t say that).

“Not yet, I guess,” Melissa finally decides. “We haven’t fought yet.” 

You nod, beginning to understand. “Does Gary know that you’re potentially going to be fighting?” 

She shrugs. “Dunno if I wanna make it a thing.” 

“So, there’s two things going on here? You’re mad at Gary for something, and Barb is mad at you?”

She nods. You nod. She suddenly becomes interested in her cuticles.

“Okay,” you retry, “which do you want to tackle first?”

“Neither.”

“Melissa.” 

“Why dontcha just drop it?” Melissa snaps. 

You don’t back down; rather, you give her a pointed look, and she sighs heavily — her international sign of realizing she was mean to you.

You try again. “So, Barb is mad at you.”

“Mhm.”

“Because of the Gary thing?”

“Mhm.”

“Did you fuck up, or did he?”

Melissa goes quiet again and you kick her under the table. 

“Hey, I don’t care either way. You know I support women’s wrongs,” you do your best to keep your tone light.

This draws a half-smile out of her. “Him. Mostly. Then, kinda me… Kinda.”

It’s your turn to stare at her, because what the hell are you supposed to do with that?

She huffs out a sigh, averts her eyes, and her words come out in a rush: “He fucked up and did some stuff and Barb is mad that I haven’t dumped him yet, okay?”

You nod, trying to piece the information together. “So, you wanna give him another chance, but Barb doesn’t? That’s… not usually how this goes.”

“I’m old, alright?” Melissa breathes out, any trace of venom having left her words. Now, she just sounds exhausted. 

“Hang on,” you hold up a hand to halt her train of thought, “what? First off, no you’re not. Second, what does your age have to do with anything?”

She looks at her lap. “I found someone who wants to settle down with me. I got divorced and wrote off love then found it again and I can’t afford to be throwin’ it away.”

Every once in a while, Melissa will let you see her frayed edges like this. They’re ragged and raw and tender and she trusts you to not probe more than necessary. It makes you feel… something. Something deep and warm that burns inside you like brandy and makes your hands tremble. 

“But?” you coax gently, and she runs a hand down her face in something akin to defeat.

Melissa’s eyes flick to the door, and you know she’s making sure there’s no camera crew and no Janine.

“But somehow we got this far in without talkin’ about politics. I mean, I talk about it. All the time. And he nods, so I thought we were on the same page, but…”

Christ alive, I was right about the elections, you think, and clamp your mouth shut (it is so not the time for an I Told You So).

For the umpteenth time this morning, you choose your words with care. “I’ve never known Melissa Schemmenti to compromise her beliefs for anybody.”

And, well, there it is. You’ve said the thing that both Melissa and Barb knew you’d say, and she wouldn’t be able to fight you on it, because it’s you. Her Xanax. 

She spends a moment chewing on her bottom lip, and her voice is low when she says, “I don’t wanna hav’ta start all over again.”

It occurs to you that this woman is deeply scared that she’s never going to be loved again. 

You don’t know how to reassure her that you’re not going to let that happen. 

Instead, you just say, “Yeah,” because what else is there to say?

After a beat, you add, “You also don’t wanna hav’ta date someone who thinks they’re putting litter boxes in classrooms for all the kids who identify as cats.” 

Melissa huffs out a somewhat incredulous laugh and blinks away the tears that you weren’t planning on pointing out. She shakes her head like she’s clearing out cobwebs. 

“I was hoping we could just ignore it. That it would be one of those things we don’t talk about,” Melissa tells you. 

You look at her pointedly. “Right. Until he tries to tell you that unions strip you of your individual voice and makes you watch NewsMax after dinner every night. Melissa, you’d murder the man.”

The glare you receive in return only confirms what you both know: once again, Melissa is incapable of arguing with you, and she’s kinda peeved about it. 

“Why d’ya gotta to be so…” she fishes for the appropriate word, “…right? It’s obnoxious.”

“It’s obnoxious that I know you?” You suppress a smirk. 

“Yeah.”

“So you want me to let you keep dating a republican?”

Melissa crosses her arms over her chest. “Shut up.” 

“You gotta dump him, babe. Before there’s a questionable campaign sign in your front lawn,” you stress, and she groans. 

“Then who’s gonna take me to Ocean City and haul me back to the hotel room when I’m eight Manhattans deep and three g’s in the red?” She pouts. 

Your eyebrow quirks up. “Is that your only qualifying factor? I can do that.”

The pout gives way to a small smirk. “So, I dump Gary and you take me to Ocean City? Is that the deal?” 

You pause. Or… maybe ‘freeze’ is a more accurate word. 

“I… guess?” you manage to get out.

Melissa considers this for a moment, head cocked to the side. “Not a bad incentive.”

How did we get here? you briefly wonder, and you push the thought aside. 

“So you’re gonna leave him, then?” you try to keep your tone light, hoping to urge her back toward your main objective. 

Melissa huffs, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You wanna be my knight in shining armor. You’re not gettin’ me to Ocean City that easy, kid.” She smirks, but it’s tight. Almost forced. 

“Hey, I’m just saying that if all it takes is some drinks on the boardwalk, I’m your gal,” you laugh softly, and she cracks a smile back. 

For a brief moment you feel like you’ve successfully dodged the bullet; Melissa’s more relaxed now, some of the tension having left her shoulders. You just have to coax her a little bit further. 

“I’m serious, Melissa. You deserve way better than a guy who…” is politically vomit-worthy “… doesn’t share your values, y’know? You don’t have to settle.”

That’s when something changes in the way she’s looking at you. The smirk disappears, her eyes narrow, and when she speaks her voice has cooled significantly. 

“Settle?” Melissa repeats. “Who’s settlin’?”

It’s like the air thickens around the two of you. You try to backpedal, to shove the words back in your mouth and swallow them, but it’s too late. Melissa is putting those walls right back up. 

“I don’t need you to swoop in and save me, Y/n,” her voice is sharp, intentionally chosen to carve out space between the two of you. “I’ve stuck it out through way worse than this, alright?”

You sit back in your chair a little and do your best to keep your voice even. “That doesn’t mean you have to-“

“I don’t have to do anything.” Melissa is already shaking her head, voice firm. “I didn’t ask for advice.”

Ouch. Okay, so, she’s kinda pissed. Usually your talks go a lot better than this, and you’re both laughing by now. Then again, usually the talks are about Ava’s inadequacies as a principal or some annoying parent. Not Melissa’s love life and sense of self-worth. 

“Melissa,” you try to control the damage, “I’m not trying to-“

“I’m not some delicate little flower who can’t handle a little trouble. You know me,” Melissa leans forward. “I’ve dealt with way harder stuff than Gary screwin’ up a little. You don’t know half of what I’ve gone through, so don’t sit there and try to pretend that you do.”

Her words hit you square in the chest. You didn’t know what to expect coming back to work after not seeing Melissa all summer, but you didn’t imagine it would be like this. 

Not that you imagined it often. Definitely not. 

You had hoped nothing would be different between you, but she’s evidently putting you at arm’s length now. 

“Melissa, I’m just saying,” you take a breath and try to regroup, “you deserve better than him.”

“Better than what?” Melissa shoots back, arms crossed securely in front of her chest. “Than a guy who wants to settle down with me? Yeah, he’s got some rough edges. So what? Who doesn’t?”

You make a mental note to unpack that sometime down the road. 

“Rough edges?” your eyebrow raises. “Melissa, I’m just trying to make sure you’re happy and not… settling.”

You’re hyper-aware of your use of that word again, and so is she. 

Melissa looks at the table and her jaw clenches. “Yeah, well, maybe you don’t get to decide what settlin’ looks like for me. We’re not on the same page with this, alright?”

In the tense beat of silence that passes between you both, you can feel her withdrawing further from you. The months you’ve spent apart have made it all too raw, too soon. She leans back, arms still crossed, face set in a stubborn scowl. 

“I’ve been fine without your opinion all summer and I’ll be fine without it now.”

You sit back in your chair and try to not let the sigh you let out sound too irritated (or too hurt). This isn’t your first rodeo with Melissa, but still… Ouch. 

“All I’m saying,” you start gingerly, “is that just because you can get through something, it doesn’t mean you should.”

Melissa’s eyes narrow again, but they’re softer this time. She’s listening — even if she doesn’t want to be. 

“I know better than to try to tell you what you can or can’t do,” you continue, keeping your tone casual like you’re discussing the weather. “But I know you, Melissa. You don’t accept less than what you deserve. So if you’re ’sticking it out’ with Gary, there’s a reason, but I don’t think it’s the reason you think it is.”

Melissa doesn’t speak right away, just… stares, with this thoughtful expression. You let the silence hang between you, allowing your words to sink in. 

“You dunno everything about me, Y/n,” she finally says, looking away from you, and her voice has lost some of its edge. 

You offer a small smile. “I never said I did.” 

Another beat of silence. You can see her chewing on your words, probably fighting the urge to make it an argument again. This is always the hardest part — getting her to let go of the fight without feeling like she’s losing. 

“I just… I think you’re worth more than whatever this is,” you say carefully, making sure to keep your voice low. “And maybe it’s time you stop sticking it out just because you’re scared of what comes next.”

That does it. You see Melissa flinch, just barely, but it’s enough to know you’re getting through to her. 

“I’m not scared,” she mutters, but it lacks any real conviction. 

You don’t argue with her, just nod. “Yeah. I know.”

Melissa shifts in her chair, arms still crossed, but she’s less tense. She’s still mad, sure, and maybe she’s even still mad at you, but the fire behind it is dying down. 

“You always gotta be so damn calm, dontcha?” she grumbles. 

“One of us has to be,” you chuckle softly. 

Melissa finally cracks the tiniest smile, her boot nudging you under the table. “Good. You’ll need that calm at the craps table.”

“You’re totally gonna hold me to Ocean City, aren’t you?”

She shrugs. “Gotta have somethin’ to look forward to since you’re makin’ me dump my usual company.”

“Hey, I’m not making you-“ you pause. “Oh. So… you’re gonna do it, then?”

“Yeah,” Melissa nods with a sigh. “I guess I am.”

You just nod, and it seems like Melissa is really absorbing the fact that she’s about to be single again. She looks at the clock like it’s a ticking bomb. 

“Guess I’ve got some time to figure out how I wanna do this,” she says, and you know she’s going to be an anxious mess until 3:30 rolls around. 

“One thing at a time,” you offer a small, supportive smile, and she nods. 

She chuckles softly, more tired than amused. “Right. Should probably focus on my thirty second- and third-graders first.”

Right. Teaching. The thing you’re here to do. You both stand up and start gathering your things. She doesn’t make for the door when you do, and you stop. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Melissa,” you reassure her. “And you know where to find me if you need me.”

Melissa nods and takes a steadying breath. “We’ll talk later?” She sounds almost… hopeful. 

“Of course,” you smile. “If I recall, we’ve got an Ocean City trip to plan.”

Melissa huffs out a small laugh and gives another nod. The tension seems to leave her frame slightly as she finally heads for the door. You follow behind her, knowing the hardest part of the day is yet to come. But maybe, you think, everything will turn out just fine.

[dovesdreaming]

Hi, Dove! Could you, please, write some Todd Anderson fluff? ♥ Maybe something about sunshine!female reader, she's also kinda shy, but not quite like Todd. She's really academically gifted, writes poems, but is unsure of herself. They know each other from school, but have never really spoken before, and then they accidentally run into each other during free period at the woods (where they like to spend some time alone and just read or write) and they bond.

It doesn't have to be about this, just any Todd fluff would be great! There is not enough dps content out here

𖤓She’s like being bathed in sunlight𖤓

I LOVED THIS REQUEST!!!! it was perfect. I loved Todd so much and I find him so relatable. This type of reader is my favourite to write aswell!!! Please send more Dps requests people I love them! Hope you enjoy <3

Note: Thank you so much for 100 followers ♥️😘🥰

Word count: 1k

Warnings: none

Welton had recently allowed girls to attend and your parents being the stuck up people they are, wanted their daughter to attend the best school possible. It hadn’t been so bad, you had made a few friends with the other girls who had started attending and some of the boys who you found the most tolerable. You found making friends hard at the best of times but being somewhere like Welton made it that much harder.

You found your favourite lesson to be English and it wasn’t necessarily because of the subject but more so the teacher. Mr keating managed to make even the most boring parts of the curriculum exciting. Before him you found poetry to be a wasted subject on yourself yet mr keating had turned you into a poet. He brought the writer out of you and showed you just how fun it could be. A subject you used to hate had turned into a hobby of yours, you found yourself writing down poetry and inspiration for poems all the time. Your poems had recently taken a more romantic turn as you had found a muse.

It started when mr keating drew the whole classes attention to a boy who sat in the top corner of the class, usually just out of sight from you, blocked by many students heads. He had encouraged the boy to read aloud a poem from the top of his head. You had never taken note of him before yet him and his poem entranced you. It tugged a core deep inside you that ‘the truth is a blanket that always left your feet cold’. He became the subject from all your poems then on. You always kept your feelings to your self in your notebook, never being sure of yourself enough to ever act on your feelings.

You didn’t know much about him apart from that he hung out with Neil, someone you spoke to occasionally to compare homework answers with. You wrote about how he made you feel. Your favourite spot to write poetry was just on the outskirts of the woods. There was a big willow tree back from the edge of the lake that provided shelter from direct sun yet still allowed it to feel like a summers day. You sat down in your usual spot and let your eyes rest on the moving water to think of your next poem.

Unbeknownst to you todd had knew about you since your first day of attendance. How could he not notice you, you were like a sunray leaving warmth and happiness everywhere you went. He admired you from afar and noticed how many people were attracted to your presence like people wanted to bathe in your light. What really caught his eye though was your smile. He had never seen one as bright and beautiful as yours.

His friends had quickly caught on to his gazing at you and they teased him relentlessly. They made sure to encourage him to speak to you aswell but Todd could never do that. He couldn’t, you were well.. you. You would never go for someone like him. So instead he wrote his feelings into his notebook and carried it everywhere for when inspiration may strike.

His favourite spot to write poetry was down by the lake. There was a tree on the edge of the wood line just set back from the water. He found no one disturbed him there and he could let his mind wander.

Today was like any other Saturday for you. You were heading down to your spot to write some poetry yet when you wandered towards the tree you noticed a figure already sitting in your spot. You froze with slight shock, no one ever came down here. You slowly stepped towards the tree, curious as to who had found your spot. You found no other than your muse. You stepped backwards to try and turn away before he could see you, you weren’t ready to face him yet. However you stepped on a branch which made quite a loud crack for its size. You cursed whoever wasn’t on your side today as you knew todd was now looking at you. You quickly threw on your best smile and reapproached him, trying to ignore how fast your heart was beating and how your palms clammed up. He looked like a deer caught in headlights which slightly calmed your nerves, you didn’t want him to feel like that around you. To try and calm both your nerves you tried to break the tension that built by greeting him “I hope I’m not interrupting the sweaty toothed madman’s writing but this is usually where I write as well. Do you mind if I join you?”. You regretted your attempt at humour and cringed internally yet Todd didn’t seem to notice still a bit frozen in place, he just about mustered a nod and with that you tentatively sat down next to him. For awhile you sat together in silence until you turned to him with a rush of adrenaline to try to get to know him. He was hesitant to talk and mumbled and tripped over his words but you were patient and never interrupted him. You listened to everything he had to say and Todd was grateful for it even if he couldn’t say it out loud. You spoke about poems and your favourite poets. You enjoyed his company and he enjoyed yours, he could feel himself relaxing around you something that was rare for him to do at Welton. You parted ways when it grew darker and he found himself craving your presence. You both longed to see each other again yet didn’t know if it would ever occur again, both still too afraid to make the move.

However when the next Saturday rolled around and you approached your spot again to find a figure already there you knew you wouldn’t ever have to worry about missing Todd’s presence again.

Yet as many Saturdays passed and you grew closer, neither of you realised the love you both shared for each other. As you both sat under the tree writing poetry about your muses who were sat right next to each other, you both remained clueless and would do for many more Saturdays until you finally read your poetry aloud to each other and discovered many similarities in the muses of the poems.

Thank you for reading! <3

[sitp-recs]

2024 Wrapped: Drarry & Rarepair

I think we all agree that 2024 was far from great in many aspects. For me, last year was full of ups and downs with some happy fulfilling moments, and some very sad, difficult, anxiety-inducing moments. I took a few breaks from fandom and barely read anything in the 2nd half of the year, but a tradition is a tradition so here’s my annual wrapped, even if a bit late :) this list comes full of gratitude for the fics that brought me joy during these not so joyful times. It is also a love letter to short form as I did not have the time and mental space to indulge long fic as I used to. Looking at it, I’m happy to see a nice mix of old faves and new authors whose work I’ve been binging as if there was no tomorrow. As usual, keep in mind that this selection is 100% subjective as it reflects my very own perverted needs personal tastes. I hope you enjoy these gems as much as I did, and I wish you a generous new year, full of kindness and hope ✨

Drarry:

the sun between us by @eleadore (E, 7k)

Draco Malfoy, an omega. It was laughable until he was right in front of you, smelling like he was one shaky step from tripping into a heat. 

you can find my detailed rambling about this fic here, which btw is the first single rec I wrote in over an year because I was so overexcited I had to scream about it somewhere. deliriously sensual and self-indulgent but also full of biting, unrelenting snark, this is a must read to those who are into the good old push and pull of enemies to lovers. and mindblowing hot a/b/o sex as a treat :D

Heart to Hearth by @jtimu (E, 7k)

It should perhaps not have been a surprise that the repairman on his front step came not with coveralls and a toolbox but instead with a sardonic stare and a raised eyebrow.

my favourite odd job fic of 2024! what a fantastic concept to have a capable, smooth Draco rocking the hell out of those coveralls and making Harry (and all of us) salivate. this fic is a masterclass in short form: compelling characters (I love this disaster Harry so much), delicious build up and perfect pacing making their attraction feel genuine and organic.

Long Haul by @wolfpants (E, 9k)

The last person Harry expects to run into on a long haul flight to New York City is Draco Malfoy.

there’s something magically wistful about second chances and maybe that’s why I instantly fell in love with this beautiful love letter to Drarry and to NYC. I adore the gentle tone, the easy flirting and evocative atmosphere. the airplane smut is superb and there’s enough backstory to get you invested in their past without overshadowing the infinite possibilities the present is opening up for them right there. a beauty!

Spoiled Little Brat by @fastbrother (T, 9k)

Harry won’t stoop to Malfoy’s level. Really, he won’t. (He will.)

the best professors fic you’ll read today, this one pulled me right back into Drarry after summer break. what a delight of a fic - silly, fun, charming, with a perfect Hogwarts atmosphere that got me sad for not being there. their chemistry is unreal, with incredible banter - then deliberate teasing - and so much sexual tension it made me weak at the knees. oh, make sure to check the phenomenal art by @appleslightning!

When the Flood Comes by @academicdisasterfic (E, 10k)

Nine years on from the war, Auror Potter is upholding the Ministry of Magic's rule of law. Senior legal counsel Draco Malfoy is challenging it. And absolutely nothing is as it seems.

lawyer Draco in a suit is always a favourite, combined with a politics plot? sign me up 👏🏻 this is a beautiful, clever, thought-provoking story with a great premise perfectly executed within 10k (but it feels much longer), captivating characters, relevant discussions, detailed world building and be still my heart, the amount of yearning! a gorgeous break up/make up that slowly unravels their past and delivers just the right amount of heartbreak with impressive economy of words.

Knot Your Average Coworkers by @thecouchsofa (E, 22k)

Or: Harry makes a bunch of unintentional knotting jokes while an increasingly baffled Draco is driven insane.

I’ve read this almost a year ago and still remember laughing in delight from beginning to end. what a fun ride! my heart is soft for this cheeky, oblivious Harry with his cringey flirty banter and obsession with Draco’s secret 😂 their dynamic is perfect, light and silly and so very sweet. this fic is hilarious but also incredibly sexy and full of hot intimacy. I’m impressed by how easily Tee blends humour, fluff and heat so organically!

Home series by @hoko-onchi-writes (E, 22k)

In which Harry grows up in darkness, falls in love, fucks up, learns some things, and falls in love again.

my first hoko fic is still my favourite, I got so emo over this one. can’t get enough of this sad, lost Harry navigating the growing pains of post-war life. he’s so young and vulnerable, my heart aches for him. I loved to watch him go from a desperate, co-dependent situationship with Charlie to a more mature and grounded relationship with Draco. touching and melancholy, this story stays with you for a while.

The Superfluous Man by peu_a_peu (E, 24k)

A child for Harry Potter is a miracle of magic. And it's the second act of Draco Malfoy's sorry little life.

another banger by the phenomenal peu, this is the perfect mix of amusing and touching with one of my all-time fave Dracos. the prose is incredible and engaging as per: vibrant, clever, full of personality and with a refreshing take on mpreg that got me kicking my feet in joy. the smooth, effortlessly funny dialogue is a masterpiece in itself, but ah! the sweetness :')

Fine-Fractured Halo by @rainjulyx (E, 29k)

For Harry, it all starts on July 31, 1999 and ends on July 31, 2019. Twenty years of longing, love, and pain in no particular order.

I don’t usually go for unhappy endings but something about this fic lured me in and I felt completely changed after reading it. brace yourself for a quiet, heart-wrenching look into Harry and Draco’s situationship over the span of 20 years of longing and waiting. love the melancholy vibe and the complexity of an unreliable narrative. this story opened a hole inside my chest and stayed with me for a long, long time.

Truth to Materials by @toomuchplor (E, 54k)

In which Harry learns to appreciate art and other pleasures of the flesh.

god knows how this fic is still so underrated because it’s easily on my top 3 of 2024: sexy, moving, thought-provoking, funny and so very romantic and entertaining. I wanna live inside this universe and learn everything about quirky artist Draco and cute smitten Harry getting all curious and hungry for him. their dynamics are captivating, light and fun until the tenderness hits you right in the face. vibrant world building, brilliant cast, perfect dialogue and decadent hot smut - this fic delivers absolutely everything and you need to go read it right now.

this heaven of mud by @garagepaperback (E, 92k)

winter, 2002: Draco Malfoy is absolutely fine, thank you very much. summer, 2008: Harry Potter is, er- well, not good exactly, but definitely better. Yeah. Better than before.

I've inhaled everything garage has written last year and it was hard to pick one for this list, but I knew it had to be this banger. fuck buddies my beloved! this is an immersive and satisfying ride and I love how their relationship slowly unfolds to the reader. seeing them so young and stupid was nostalgic, aching and bittersweet at once, but I wasn’t expecting to be so moved by the romance! a brilliant character study, full of tension and heart.

Rare Pairs:

o fiery sun by @onbeinganangel (E, 3k) - Theo/Harry

Is it actual solstice magic or is Theo Nott just suddenly, really, stupidly, impossibly hot?

I’ve been low-key into this ship thanks to NottPott Chronicles and Mari delivers everything I expected of a “reluctant case partners to fuck buddies” 🔥 what a premise! I’m so hot for Seer Theo who’s a teasing little shit driving Harry up the wall lol their chemistry is explosive, dripping with sexual tension and the promise of more. Drarry fans need to check this asap!

One Night in Hogsmeade by @lqtraintracks (E, 4k) - Prongsfoot

While there are hearts in this world James hasn’t minded breaking, Sirius’s has never been one of them.

trust LQT to ruin me with this ship, which I so carefully avoid hoping to dodge the devastation. but it only takes James and Sirius sharing one brain cell and being all hot and wanton for each other and here I am, dead and buried. this has LQT's trademark of insanely hot smut dripping with angsty feels. the characters are so dear and full of heart, and I can’t handle the amount of desire, trust and fond familiarity they share.

Nightswimming by @sweet-s0rr0w (M, 5k) - Dronarry

Weasley flicks the light on. “I got off with a guy once, you know,” he says, casually, holding the torch up between his gloved fingers.

my favorite Dronarry of the year, this fic was such a unique experience! a masterclass in short form, as per sweet’s usual. such a delicious and expertly crafted foreplay, the mounting tension swallowed me whole and left me at the edge of my seat yearning for more. I need this flirty Ron in my bed life, jfc. the car sequence is one of the best executed scenes I’ve ever read, with such a distinct, sexy dream-like atmosphere. instant classic!

Three's a Crowd (But Four is a Party) by @kbrick (E, 7k) - Harry/Draco/Pansy/Blaise, endgame Drarry

Pansy and Draco have been together for ages. Kind of. They don't sleep together any more, but they do sleep with men together. It's complicated.

also known as the pwp that made me tear up with feels for Pansy & Draco, this is a beautiful and moving love letter to their friendship. I love the layers behind their co-dependency, it’s a really nuanced dynamic while also being a deliciously and self-indulgent poly smutty treat. the sex sequence is smoking hot and a feast for the eyes, with such sweet Drarry chemistry! beautiful and immensely satisfying from beginning to end.

Wield Me by @tackytigerfic (E, 10k) - Drarry + Teddy

A little story about learning to strike while the iron is hot.

I’ve already poured my heart out about this fic on a dedicated rec post but suffice to say this is the tenderest, most creative short I’ve read last year. the rich and detailed world building is absolutely jaw dropping, and all characters are so lovable and fascinating. I’m obsessed with pining blacksmith Draco, and very impressed by how Tacky successfully includes my beloved Teddy in the equation while keeping this a legit (and very much romantic!) Drarry love story. so smooth, so moving. witchcraft

Permanent by @citrusses (M, 13k) - Dron, Drarry

"Harry's always been fixated on older men. Have you ever noticed that, Ron?” Granger asks.

the gasp of utter delight I let out with every citrus fic this year! brilliant time travel concept perfectly executed, I’m still in awe of how much story and character development citrus was able to convey under 15k. sexy, intriguing, slightly melancholy with a clever twist and a hopeful open ending that took the story to another level and made me shake in satisfaction. easily on my top 3 works from last year’s Dronarry Fest!

Dick Chicken by @oknowkiss (E, 15k) - Dronarry

This is a story about nothing.

yep, this is the Seinfeld AU I didn’t know I needed! this fic is so incredibly funny, original and engaging - a brilliant homage to the show’s silly, chaotic ecosystem and cleverly adapted to incorporate elements from the HP universe. I just couldn’t decide between laughing my ass off at the unique brand of humor, falling in love with this sweet Harry or getting all hot and bothered for the Dronarry sexual tension omg

Worth a Thousand Words by @fluxweeed (E, 18k) - Dron

TIL wizards in Britain can avoid ward duty on the grounds of homosexuality. To avoid any false applications, wizards applying for this exemption must provide multiple pictures of themselves receiving anal intercourse with a clearly visible face.

a recent Dron fave, this sexy af and delightful fic translates the ship's essence perfectly: hilarious, scorching hot and a bit unhinged. the absurd premise serves the hottest and most entertaining "fuck first, talk later" trope with the right amount of sass, horny and sweet pining. I love Ron's voice here, curious and indulging and absolutely oblivious but still up for the ride. and Draco’s so hot for him, gosh the smut is so delicious. big bonus points for these AMAZING Harry and Hermione!

periculum by @the-invisibility-bloke (E, 25k) - Sirry

Harry needs someone to take control. Or maybe he just needs Sirius.

the fic that introduced me to El’s writing - my new age gap champion - had me on the floor just a few paragraphs in. this masterpiece covers everything that make this ship deliciously dirtybadwrong: Harry’s sweet longing, Sirius’s spiraling want and guilt clashing with the desire to give Harry everything he wants, the constant grasp for some control while toeing the line that gets blurred, then completely obliterated. exquisite build up and scorching sex scenes, so heated and satisfying!

INCENDIO by swoons (E, 42k) - Albus/James

Albus is just looking for something to get his mind off his brother. When Lily suggests he try INCENDIO, a popular dating app, he has no idea what fate — or the algorithm — has in store for him.

this was actually written in 2023 but I’m making an exception because wow, what a delightful Pottercest fic! this reawakened all my feelings for this ship. great pacing and the right amount of tension, pining, plus the BEST innuendos and poor sex jokes you’ll read today. Al and James have such distinct, charming voices and a deliciously sassy chemistry, plus matchmaker Lily stole the scene, I so enjoyed their dynamics. instant favorite!

[0cta9on]

One Year of 0cta9on

Hello everyone! :]

Today marks exactly a year since I debuted as a writer! In an ideal world, I would’ve had some crazy story planned for today, but my current circumstances didn’t allow for that, so enjoy this semi-sappy yap session instead :>

I started writing during a particularly low point in my life where my mental health was in the gutters and I had an insane amount of free time. I’ve always liked imagining stories in my head, so the next obvious step was to start writing those stories down. Hence, 0cta9on was born :]

Channeling my energy into something creative provided me with a distraction from all the things that weighed on my mind and become a source of joy for me. While I know I’m not the best or most well-known writer in this community, seeing even a single comment on my work fills me with such an unexplainable amount of joy. To know that there’s people out there that enjoy the silly little stories I put out is genuinely insane in the best way possible <3

Since I’m mainly a fluff writer, I wasn’t sure what other writers in this community would think of me. But my worries were almost immediately quelled when I first joined the writer discord and became friends with a bunch of amazingly talented writers. Shout out to @msafterhours, @writerpeach, @octoberautumnbox, @gangplanksorenji, @prael, @kooyabooya, @okaylikeschaewon, @mintwithchoco, @defmaybe, @sinswithpleasure, @midnightdancingsol, @capslocked, @svndaysaweek, @usedpidemo, and of course many, many more for being so kind and welcoming <3

Recap of my past year of writing:

Wrote 8 chapters of Unlikely Duet, my cute little slice-of-life romance series starring best girl, Minji <3 Chapter 8 is the longest piece I’ve written so far at +18k words!

First Snow was the first fluff one shot I made. Rough around the edges, but we all start somewhere.

Beach Day and Good Idea were my first attempts at writing smut and they are… alright, I guess :> Part of me wants to go back and revise them, but I barely have the time and motivation to work on new drafts ;[

Masterpiece is still probably my favorite fluff one shot I’ve written so far, and while it’s not the best written by any means, I still really like how it turned out :]

FFF2+4 and Train Ride to Heaven for me marked the start of when I started becoming more comfortable writing smut. I’m still not that great, but it’s fun and I think that’s all that counts for me :]

Stuck with You was the first commission I ever did! Writing someone else’s idea is always difficult, but I’m glad the buyer liked the final product :]

Stroke of Luck was the first time I ever wrote a threesome. I think it went okay :>

Wrote And We Danced and Sunscreen for a fun prompt challenge hosted in the writer’s discord (You can thank @mintwithchoco and @msafterhours for these <3). The latter ended up turning into a quaint little mini series :]

Lessons was my second ever commission and my first attempt at femdom. While femdom isn’t really my thing, it was a fun challenge writing about something new and I really like the little gimmick I threw in there :]

I wrote Today, like, two days ago at 1am without much revising or editing (Shoutout @defmaybe for reading through it before I released <3). Go read it if you haven’t yet pls n thenk yew :>

Wrote 15 shorts from ideas submitted by you guys! Some of my favorite stories I’ve written have been shorts and they’re always nice when I’m low on ideas :]

While I likely won’t have anything out for a while, I think it’d be fun to pull back the curtain a little bit and hint at what I’ve been working on :]

🐰🦋// She’s just your coworker. Just that. Nothing else.

🐻👖// It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?!

🍁✨// Upcoming New Variety Show: Fan Date! Episode 1, starring [REDACTED]

🍔🧀// Time changes, but summer stays the same

I’ve run out of things to talk about, so this concludes my one year anniversary post :> Despite my unplanned and prolonged hiatus, I want y’all to know that I do NOT plan on retiring anytime soon. I have so many stories I still want to tell, whether you like it or not >:]

Have a good day/night and I love yall <3 Have a Minji :]

[fictionismyreality3]

Your First Date with Rooster

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, mention of guns

Notes: AAAAH I’m in love with this man and nothing can stop me from living out my dreams through this headcanon and I have neVER EVER BEEN HAPPIER 😇

i fully believe that this man is a old romantic at heart

watching his dad flirt with his mom and endlessly surprise her with flowers sort of formed his idea of what romance and dating should look like

when he asked you out he either did it in the most casual way, or went full on grandiose

probably the latter knowing him 😅

I’m talking wrote a whole ass SONG for you, the lyrics asking you out, and played it on the piano at the Hard Deck

phoenix and hangman were in on it and made sure that you were in the right place and sober enough for you to realize what was happening

obviously you said yes

if he knows you well enough, he won’t plan much

this man is SMOOTH, and flirting comes easy to him (that fact that he’s shredded helps too)

he’d want to go somewhere laid back and less formal so he could focus on you the entire time

picks you up in the bronco with a massive bouquet of your favourite flowers

don’t ask how he knew them (phoenix told him)

takes you to the fair that comes to the beach during the summer

if you let him, he’ll have an arm wrapped around you the entire time

when you see the ballon shooting game and freak out at the giant teddy bear prize he’s instantly dropping as much money as it takes to win it for you

“You want that one? I’ll get it for you, honey.”

which turns out to be barely anything because he’s so good with a gun

its criminally hot to watch

even though he’s pilot he’s always been a sharpshooter

carries around any other prizes you win and buys you anything you want of course

you dump all the prizes in the bronco and he takes you to get ice cream on the beach

holds your hand as you walk along the water

it’s windy so he gives you his jacket which smells like him 😩

pretends to wipe ice cream from the corner of your mouth just so he can kiss you

“You gotta a little something, hun.. let me just..”

let’s just say you swooned so much he bought you another ice cream after yours fell to the sand

drove you home, hand on your thigh the whole time, and kissed you goodnight at the door

[cloveroctobers]

FEBRUARY FLUFF — CARMY BERZATTO.

A/N: so carmy won this time around!!! Thanks to all those that voted and ultimately made this decision for me lol. Hope you guys enjoy this and have a safe, healthy, and happy love season 🩷 + yes this is a mixture of fluff and angst...i mean come on! I wouldn't be me if i didn't include that in here somewhere!

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE + HERE & I’m using: 1. “…Okay, so the only way for us to enjoy that huge discount is to act like we’re dating.” “What, so you’d fake date me for discounted food but you wouldn’t real date me even though I could take you out to the best restaurants out there in town every fucking night if you wanted me to?”  + always giving the other the first bite of their food < or the last.

WARNINGS/SN: I wrote with a black or brown reader in mind although reader isn't physically described + they’re given a name only when mentioned, language is a thing here duh!, this is LENGTHY, lots of timelines: reader + nat became friendly before season 1 during the summer prior to 7 fishes which is estimated to be five years before season 2, reader knows of carmy due to past work, I feel like she can be just a few year(s) older than carmy but younger than nat—there’s a age gap for the Berzatto’s anyways, sexual relations are mentioned, this piece takes place months after the grand opening, & finally there’s a possible chance for a poly relationship or maybe just multiple crushes going on? Take that how you will.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

it was a Sunday.

The kind of Sunday you woke up embarrassed about but knew you had to swallow your pride and just send out that text. You knew you wouldn’t be judged regardless reaching out to Fak because he’s built to deal with things like this and never made you feel like shit about anything.

You usually had to squeeze it out of him to get him to lay out any cons about a situation but appreciated most times when he didn’t. Your minds been going haywire with a recent assignment as a food journalist and it really slipped your mind, although you were usually a quick thinker, you’ve been stressed over this recent restaurant. Thankfully it clicked for you after throwing a tantrum to simply reach out to Fak to come help you out.

The stupid lever in your bathroom decided to stop flushing on you and of course you panicked. Who wouldn’t panic in a situation like that? You no longer had a roommate and strongly debated if you even wanted to search for another; after the shady actions of the previous one, so you really didn’t have to worry about them giving you shit either. (Let’s see if your rent feels the same next month!)

It was just you in the end and perhaps you were learning to be okay with that.

Yet that didn’t stop you from FaceTiming Sydney about it. “Hey Siddy, how’s your day going?”

“Pretty good, yours?” She politely asked as she moved down the hallway of her shared apartment to prop her phone on the pedestal sink, moving around her functioning bathroom to grab some oil to grease her scalp.

Smacking your lips you glare, “it fucking sucks.”

“Oh?” Sydney questioned, appearing back in frame, “what happened? Did someone egg and scratch up your car again after a review you gave them? Noo wait, don’t tell me there’s a bullet hole?!”

That was light work compared to New York (it really wasn’t a competition of which state had its worst moments but your home state left you kinda triggered, not gonna lie!) where you were just starting off and those that were in tune with the culinary world didn’t take your words with a grain of salt. Most nights you still woke up gasping for air, reaching for your throat due to some trauma of a break in from a well-known nepo-baby chef. Don’t get that twisted, your mom didn’t raise no punk but that didn’t mean those events didn’t mess with your mental and you acknowledged that every time you had a nightmare. They only served three years and five months compared to the original five year sentence.

Ah the system…got to love how that works out for the privileged!

You shrugged, “no…the threats have been pretty tame lately so I can give myself a pat on the back for that. However! I still am in a crisis.”

Sydney begins to move her braids around to expose her scalp, “Elaborate for me.”

“My toilet won’t flush!” You whine, laying flat on your messy bed. You tended to not make your bed on Saturdays and didn’t get around to making it today—although it was after 3pm.

Sydney asks, “Like the waste won’t go down…?”

“Exactly!” You confirm throwing your arm over your eyes dramatically, “The lever thing is moving like my old dislocated shoulder.”

Sydney gags, “don’t fucking remind me of that day. That was spooky to witness but I am glad you healed from that.”

“Thanks girl, means a lot, truly.”

Sydney gives a small smile, “don’t mention it…have you considered YouTubing it? That’s what I do when I don’t want to ask anyone for help and figure it out by myself.”

You hummed knowing this was true. In a sense you could be like that too, especially when it came to the working field, since writers can tend to be some nasty bitches and always in rivalry with each other. You made a name for yourself in Chicago as well, coming from New York where you worked just as hard-maybe even harder than the rest to mean and write exactly how you felt about cuisine, regardless if anyone agreed or not. It wasn’t about if people liked you, the relationship with food would always be more significant and hold value in your life, just like the rest of these chef’s you encountered and you got that, people were allowed to be sensitive about their work. You’ve come toe to toe with many chef’s around the world who didn’t like your take on their craft but that didn’t mean you didn’t understand them. They hardly took the time to really dive into your ratings and automatically took it as you shit talking or not having any idea what you were saying since you “weren’t really a chef,” but you knew your worth most days.

Yes you could be straight forward but that didn’t mean you lacked compassion like some chef’s liked to think according to your reviews. You often wrote in a way that was puzzling to some, almost philosophical or riddle like with your own twist. Some just didn’t get it and that was okay but you wouldn’t back down from any confrontation. The second they didn’t want to really listen, that’s when you removed yourself from the escalating problem. It didn’t have to get violent like some wanted to inflict.

“Why didn’t I think of that?!” You exasperated, slapping the palm of your hand to your forehead.

Sydney snorted, “maybe because you’re under a lot of pressure lately and the most simplest of things don’t come as easily as they should.”

“You would think I have high blood pressure with the way these past two weeks have been.”

Sydney says, “give it time.”

“Gee, thanks! That’s exactly the kind of shit I want to hear from you.” You roll your eyes at the blurt of words that commonly escaped the braided girl’s mouth.

Sydney breathes out a laugh, “I’m just joking!”

“Yeah, yeah! Maybe I should text fak back and tell him not to come by!”

“You asked fak instead of the apartment manager?” Sydney is in amazement.

“Fuck that noise, he’s so full of shit that he should see a doctor about it. He’ll show up to analyze the problem, then acts like he’s going to fit you into the schedule and then when you catch him in the lobby he pretends that he has amnesia.” You commented with a scowl.

You get ready to minimize the call to text fak but some obnoxious knocks at the door made you pop up from your bed. “That was fast!”

Hopping up from the bed and padding out of the last bedroom in the apartment, you made the journey through the foyer to the awaiting black front door. Peeking through the peephole you spot Fak grinning widely up into it, almost making you jump back.

“He’s made it Siddy! I’ll call you back!”

“K. Good luck!” Sydney calls out before you end the call to pull the door wide open.

“Neil!” You scream, quickly latching onto his tatted wrist ready to yank him in until you notice someone else is with him, “…why is he here?” You point.

Fak quickly glances over at a brimmed Carmy who raised a brow at him in a silent told you so manner, “I mean we were having a boy’s day when you called and I didn’t want my buddy to be left out. Plus, it’s always great to have some assistance.”

“…i find it hard to believe that Carmen wants to fix my toilet.” You cross your arms, poking out your hip as you stare at him.

Carmen shrugs his shoulders, “I wanted to wait in the car if it makes you feel any better.”

“Hmm…it doesn’t.”

Carmy rolls his eyes, pinching at the bridge of his nose briefly in agitation, “you know what, fak you’ve got this right? I know you do so—

“Nope!” Fak quickly interrupts, “this maybe a two person job so aspie if you just let us do what we came to do—

Shooting an arm out to block the doorway you peer into Fak’s dark teal eyes to show you mean business, “didn’t I say I dislike that nickname, Neil?”

He nods.

“Also i find it offensive that you brought an uninvited guest to my place.”

“Just be glad it wasn’t Richie because that was also a possibility before he ran off to pick up the kid.” Carmy snaps making you roll your eyes.

If Richie was here you been would have slammed the door in both Fak and his face. Sure you had some sort of tension with Carmy and beef with .......his cousin but at least Carmy only gave it back to you when he had the energy to—meaning if he was already on one. The issue was simple, you wrote a not so nice review once before when the eldest berzatto, Michael was alive and running the joint. Richie couldn’t forget that and actually kept the clipping, yes the clipping of the review way back when. He had the receipts to show Carmy and Carmy actually brushed it off then, not seeming to really care or doubt some of the words that were said.

He came to revamp the place because Mikey left it for him, to fix the mess his big brother left behind, to create what they’ve always dreamed of. Sure he got shit for it in the beginning and part of him felt like maybe that was your case too? He could relate to you on that, yet the weight was slightly different on his part and he even spoke with you not long after he found those tomato cans.

That gave him a certain push he couldn’t really explain. He may have done a brief dive on you, wondering why you felt acquainted to him—completely forgetting about seeing you once around Noma—choosing to start with reading previous reviews by you on other restaurants here in Chicago and a few interviews you’ve done over the world. You weren’t just some nobody, you held your titles well and it reflected in your work.

You weren’t clueless.

He just didn’t really know what he was dealing with until a short time ago.

What he didn’t expect was for you to show up again on opening night with a certain head chef, also from New York. That made carmy more anxious than anything, seeing you sitting beside that four eyed fuck ready to set off a tornado in the heart of the bear. Was that your motive all along? With carmy attempting to build a bridge, not for you to kiss his ass with praise but there was a odd need to have a simple conversation with you. It was weird but it seemed like Sydney, Fak, and Nat liked you?

The jury was still out with the rest—except Richie but you were a mystery to Carmy. However carmy wasn’t the best at putting a read on people or their emotions in the first place, he was good at fucking that up unless you’re screaming it into his face. That’s just how he operated.

“You two can come in—only because I don’t have the patience with the manager here and Neil’s the best I’m gonna get.” You state while fak slaps a hand on his chest.

“That was really sweet, Aspen.” Fak cooed ready to pull you into a bone crushing hug but you hold up a finger.

“Save the hugs until after you fix my problem.”

“You got it boss,” Fak salutes before diving under your arm to travel through your apartment, ooo-ing and ah-ing before finding the bathroom around the corner from the living room.

Sighing you drop your arm and wave carmy through, who keeps his view straight while traveling through the hallway. You call out to him, “you can have a seat on the couch.”

“What? Did you drop a load or something and is that the real reason why you don’t want me to help Fak?” Carmy comes right out with it, nose twitching in amusement after whipping around to face you in the center of the living room.

See…only when he’s frustrated or overly focused will he just let it out. Some may look at this as Carmy attempting to make a joke but you took that somewhat personally. The only thing you were thinking after he said this was: What an ego on this one huh?

You stop on your heels and tilt your head to the side, “are you telling me that you think women or fem pronoun users don’t take shits? Do you know what it feels like to have period shits?”

Carmy blinks at you and shouts with his hands out, “I...don't even know what the fuck you're getting at? I wasn't even trying to be sexist to you just then! I asked you a honest question—

“About you being in my business,” you pointed out, “contrary to your beliefs I have a heart and decided to be nice to you and let you stay in my place to keep warm. You’re welcome!”

“Oh bullshit, don’t act like you’re doin’ me any favors.” Carmy scowls, “you don’t even want me here.”

You shrug, “yet you’re here in my apartment, yelling.”

Carmy exhaled while you smirked at him sweetly before turning to lean against the wall that leads to the bathroom.

“Everything okay in there, Neil?”

“Oh yeah!” He says, “I think I figured out the problem. Easy peasy!”

“Great!” You exclaim, pulling your phone out from your sweats to read a very important email.

The weight of stress seemed to lift a good chunk as you quickly responded to a email that you’ve been waiting for. You’ve been invited out (squeezed in) to a taste test at this restaurant for this evening that you’ve been trying to get into for a month before you brought it up to your employer. The deadline was approaching for the end of this week to have a review ready and they just responded to you five days before that deadline! Reading over it twice, the squeal in you slipped through your smile until you read the exceptions.

If you were to go over the amount of food purchased, which you would put on the company card anyways, you can get a discount if you brought a plus one and some reimbursement if the review was satisfactory to the owners—which the last part wasn’t unfamiliar to you.

You usually didn’t bring a plus one to any of the places you did reviews for, you got comfortable doing outings all on your own but this was different. Sure you were somewhat known in the culinary world but that didn’t mean you were a millionaire and this restaurant was apparently upscale. There was a waiting list regardless of your status—even for the celebrities that went there so this was a big deal and they gave you a short notice. Usually Sundays were known for a reset for the week but what better way to start it?

You don’t go forward with reaching out to anybody else that you work with. This was your battle and you were aware that two of your other co-workers also reached out to this restaurant. You just hoped you were the only one they picked and wouldn’t miss out on the great opportunity just because you weren’t sure about your guest.

A few hours before show time and you had to find somebody to attend with you. Your best friend was away in Cabo for a honeymoon, the other (who recently planned on moving to ATL) was dealing with the flu and had their no good ex boyfriend taking care of them, Sydney was suddenly MIA, and you even considered inviting Natalie Berzatto to piss carmy off just a bit.

“Hey, Nat!” You greet into the phone as you walk into the kitchen, witnessing Carmy perk up from the couch.

It’s small talk at first: you asking about how her day is going as a mom to be, if she’s going to be at the bear tomorrow, did she watch the Emmy’s the other night, tell her husband you said hello, and then finally if she had plans for tonight.

“…are you asking me to hang out?”

“We had fun at that club way back when no?”

“Yeah! But that was how long ago?”

You knew it’s been awhile. You were always friendly with Natalie, meeting her first—well second out of the siblings down at the small mart one summer you helped out at that your great-uncle owned. She was huffing about something her boyfriend at the time, Pete forgot to bring her and some groceries she was picking up for her mom. You were cool enough to become Facebook friends, exchange numbers, go out for coffee and go to the club together. This wasn’t unusual to call each other randomly but you knew she commonly got shit from Michael and Richard about her talking and hanging out with you.

The thing about Natalie Berzatto is that she always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt. Yes she saw your review yet she kinda laughed about it initially but it was all fuck you’s from the other two loud mouth’s. Of course she was going to listen to her brother but she still had a mind of her own. she didn’t care to listen to Richie go off but she understood how Michael felt, although she was the only other Berzatto that heard you out.

Except you didn’t owe anybody an explanation even if some felt you were more cutthroat in your younger years.

“...Before you and Pete even thought about marriage?”

You were younger than them but you imagined how it would always work out for Nat and Pete, which included growing old together.

“Wow! Yeah that sounds right.”

“So…?”

“Can’t do it.”

“You didn’t even hear all the details!”

“I know, I know and it sounds like it’ll be a real fucking blast but if this kid wasn’t sitting on my sciatic nerve constantly and if my feet weren’t the size of two honeydews…I totally would! But I’ll have to decline this time around—so please don’t hate me!”

“I could never!”

“You know you could always ask carmy-

“Why on earth would I do that?” Your reply was instant.

Natalie sighed over the phone, “aspen…the potential of friendship and love is a beautiful thing.”

You scrunched up your face at the phone before placing it back to your ear.

“Do you want me to hang up on you?”

“I’d call you a rude bitch if you did but then get over it.”

“I can live with that because I know it’s real love between you and I.”

“…whatever that means.”

“Right.”

You both laugh, knowing just how weird the subject of love can be. Although you didn’t talk all the time it was always okay for one of the other to drop a venting text or call each other’s way and know the other would get around to responding. The both of you may not be the best of friends but you did consider each other friends regardless. There were conversations between the both of you that no one knew about and would be a constant reminder of what kind of friends the both of you would remain.

Natalie wished things could have been resolved between you and Michael but she reassured that the dislike wasn’t as deep as it seemed. There was no secret that you felt awful about how his life ended and being there for nat during that time also meant a lot. She told you that one of the last conversations she had with Michael was about you and it felt as if he was learning to let go of your review, slowly taking in Nat’s words of you not having a cruel bone in your body especially with all that you’ve done for her.

Anybody that showed his sister true friendship couldn’t be complete garbage. As much as he tolerated Pete, Michael was always aware that he was good enough for his sister. They were all cut from different cloths and the Berzatto’s were just from the same but opposite corner’s.

Natalie telling you this was not to erase any worries you had since that is always brought to the surface when someone you’ve been face to face with before decides to end it all. It was to show you that nobody ever truly knows what anyone is thinking whether there is love there or not.

You can feel Natalie smiling through the phone, “Think about it…all that tension could be smoothed out if you extend the olive branch…now it’s your turn.”

“It’s not my fault he switched up on me after your opening night.” You didn’t lower your voice or make it louder but you were definitely staring at carmy now who was side eyeing you, looking like phineas from phineas and ferb.

“That’s something you need to talk to him about, don’t you think?” Her tone was always so gentle that it made you sick sometimes because she could be right.

“I’m not here to do think pieces.”

“…aren’t you a writer?”

“Have a good night, nat.”

“Ta-Ta!” Natalie sing-songs, “be sure to send me the deets later because carmy never tells me anything! Bye! Chat later!”

Hanging up the phone, you slide it onto the counter and tap your nails against the island. To the right of you, you pick up on some clinking in the bathroom—which sounds somewhat normal and zone in on carmy who’s also holding onto his phone but staring at the blank tv in thought.

“Hey, Carmen.” You call his name.

His bright blues turn to you as if he hasn’t been eavesdropping on your conversation here and there between his texts with Marcus.

“You. Me. The Saffron Simmer. 7pm.”

The air is frigid as the both of you hunch your shoulders shoving through Chicago’s winter. Shockingly the streets are filled with cars tonight so you had to park on the next street over before walking up and around to The Saffron Simmer. Carmy offered to drive, which was a debate—no shock there—since there was no way he was leaving the bear stock van behind for no license having fak to play around in.

Fak definitely found that offensive and said he didn’t mind hanging out at your place, being done with your toilet but with the look you sent him he said he’s find an Uber or fak2 can pick him up. It’s not like you didn’t trust fak in your place…it’s just that the possibilities of what he can get into are endless.

You also didn’t want to ride in the bear’s van not because of shallow reasons, you just wanted to annoy carmy just a bit more for fun. Walking mostly everywhere was the way to go growing up in New York and Carmy working there so doing so here in Chicago wasnt foreign either. However with the type of cold here in this city is enough to give the bravest of hearts hypothermia. So obviously driving was the best option, it’s just the petty back and forth between you two of who will drive had to be spewed.

Eventually you gave in and sat in the passenger side of the van, being on DJ duty for the twenty-five minute drive—something carmy didn’t care to argue over. The both of you made it on time, throwing the door back for carmy to catch then bouncing on your toes while he blew into his gloveless hands waiting on the greeter to find your reservation.

The pictures didn’t do The saffron simmer any justice. There was so much to look at with its modernized speakeasy décor and the high ceilings did a superb job of making the both of you feel small in the spacious space. Thankfully the dress code was business casual so you didn’t have to go all out but you still put in the effort of looking your best in simple attire. You’re shrugging out of your scarf, earmuffs, and puffer coat while Carmy is already seated; with only the removal of his cap across from you in a chair.

He’s watching you as you place everything neatly to the right of you before you're taking a seat in the leather oversized chair, then digging through your tote to pull out your notepad, Sony camera, phone, and bolt pen. You quickly scribble something on the first line and circle it before dropping your pen.

Rolling the sleeves of your long sleeves back underneath your blazer, you roll your shoulders with a close of your eyes before opening them with a look of determination.

“Wow, that was something.” Carmy tells you, making you set your eyes back on him, forgetting just that quick that he was your plus one.

Clasping your hands together you quirk up a brow, “What?”

“Watching you prep.”

You dip your head, “should have seen me before I got dressed…much worse.”

A smirk appears on the corner of Carmy’s lips, “oh yeah?”

“Well yes, I can contain myself in public, Carmen. Your home is supposed to be your safe space so that’s the best place to go a little crazy sometimes.” You inform, yet still not giving too much away.

“Why are you in your head about this place anyway?” Carmy peers around the slightly filled dining area before meeting your eyes once more.

You lift your shoulders, “have you seen the way they market this place? Giving not too much away although it’s top ten restaurants here and I can either contribute to its success or its downfall. They picked me for a reason so my review matters at the end of this year.”

“But you uh-get a thrill out of this shit don’t you? It’s what you signed up for, right?” Carmy is actually relaxed against the chair across from you.

Which is a sight to see.

You state, “it’s part of the job, if that’s what you mean.”

Carmy blinks and seems to get it, “and so you stay.”

“So I stay.” You echo while holding his stare, which is broken by a piece of the stone table lifting and showcasing the menu illuminated by sepia lighting in the dark of the restaurant.

Carmy’s bright eyes are wide as he stares at the menu that appears right in front of your faces. There’s a grin on your face as you rest your fingertips around its rough edges, almost as if you were expecting this while carmy blows out a breath.

“The hell is this place?”

You peek over at him, “some next level shit, berzatto.”

“Yeah…I think I’m starting to catch on.”

You turn your attention back to the menu, swiping your fingertips along the touch screen although you’ve heard things about the menu, which they kept offline since apparently it renews monthly.

“What looks good?”

“Uh…these pages aren’t even labeled." Carmy exhales through his nose, eyes searching all over the tablet, "I have no clue. You?”

The words come at ease for you, "One of almost everything maybe?”

“Sounds good...I guess?”

“On me by the way,” you state with a wink as you flash your company card.

“I’ll get the tip then.” Carmy pats his jeans, the left containing his carton of cigarettes, the right holding his keys, lifting his hips he checks for his wallet although he’s been sitting on his behind for about ten minutes now.

You don’t argue with that, eyes in awe at the selection of items as you start ordering, “don’t forget to order your drink.”

“Water should be fine,” Carmy mutters to himself, eyes scanning over the first strange title of water that is described as flower and ginger infused purified water and decides to go with that.

You finally express after rapidly letting your fingers go over the screen and taking a picture with your phone, “…Okay, so the only way for us to enjoy that huge discount is to act like we’re dating.”

It sounded so easy to you as you quickly shifted to pick up your pen and start writing notes.

“What was that?” Carmy pressed his elbows into the edge of the table, making sure he heard you right since he’s not even sure if he can trust his inner thoughts lately.

You’re still scribbling but also turning your face towards the messy haired chef, “you heard me. We have to act like we’re in a relationship because I’ve definitely went over the budget on the card.”

“That’s not really my problem?”

“Yes it is,” you demand, “you agreed to be my plus one so that’s that. Plus this menu further confirmed my suspicions from the email.”

Carmy scratches at his brow confused, “what are you talking about, aspen?”

“Here,” you swipe across your screen towards Carmy’s device, which brings up another screen instantly to carmy who’s in awe but scans over the details.

You didn’t share the email with him but he’s heard about how high tech this restaurant is but didn’t have the time to do his own research.

*Significant others in attendance are subject to applicable discounts.*

Carmy feels his stomach cramp at the fine print and it so small that he was sure anyone could have missed that.

Not you.

“…how exactly are we supposed to prove that, hm?” He's gripping at his greasy hair now, feeling himself getting a bit worked up about this.

You fanned your hand along, “just do what couples do and follow my lead...Depending on our witnesses,” you whisper as you look around, “they could always assume that’s what we are anyways.”

Part of carmy didn’t like how that came off.

“What, so you’d fake date me for discounted food but you wouldn’t real date me even though I could take you out to the best restaurants out there in town every fucking night if you wanted me to?” Flies out of Carmy’s mouth before he can even process what he’s saying.

That stoops you too, making you press your back against the chair in thought. That wouldn’t be going down in the notes, as you stare at the pen in between your fingers for a moment. Which brings you back to Carmy’s tatted fingers first that touched you in ways that romance novelist craved to write about.

So you may have left that out, how a shared conversation about the “heartless” review of then Chicagoland turned the bear melted into hot and heavy actions in the front seat of your Mazda. It hits you in those same flashes you take of dishes: the unsure sloppy kisses, you taking the lead to get Carmy to just touch you, shaky hands that trace the tattoo from your rib cage down to your hip before soon holding steady and angled just right beneath your red tapered trousers.

“Where did that come from?” You question just as a server greets you, delivering drinks and announcing the small plates should be out in the next five minutes with a timer appearing on both of the stone tablets.

Carmy says, “you—you didn’t just think I forget right?”

“Well I was hoping.” You were honest, “neither of us are ready for relationships—especially hearing about you and Claire.”

Carmy felt his eye twitch, “and how do you know about that?”

Sydney.

You wouldn’t throw her under the bus like that although you could tell carmy already knew.

“I have my resources but don’t think I’ve been asking around about you or anything like that.” You sipped at the raspberry mint cocktail, it could be stronger.

His thumbs are shaking first on the table top but his icy stare made your chest pulsate in a way you didn't particularly like, “…would that be so bad?”

You and carmy didn’t exactly know each other well enough besides a conversation once had and with his hand down your pants! and you trying to get him to crash, clothes still on right in the center of his lap—It was a spur of the moment hookup and you could tell it was not something that happened often for carmy. He never had time for it or bothered to get attached but there was something about you that had him thinking otherwise. What was supposed to be a one time thing that you swept to the back of your mind was being brought up again.

The annoyance overtook what that feeling brought in the front seat of your ride. You weren’t ignoring carmy after that but the both of you had a lot on your plate with him renovating a restaurant and you diving back into your own work. Both fields of work seemed to matter more and not once did you think he ever thought about you in that way.

Communication was important people!

And here you thought he wanted nothing to do with you, especially with you showing up to the grand opening of The Bear. Now here you were months later, basically at your benefit, face to face hearing only pieces of what Carmen Berzatto was thinking.

“Hey, guys!” A familiar voice gathers your attention and you both turn to see Sydney smiling at you two.

Carmy widens his eyes, “Syd, what’re you doing here?”

Sydney snorted, “doing the same thing you’re doing? Having dinner.”

“Right.” He lightly shakes his head.

“Oh my god…am I interrupting this um? Date?” Sydney quickly connected the dots eyeing the both of you back and forth while you’re choking on your drink, “you okay?”

She pats your back for you while you gasp and Carmy slides over his water your way although you have your own glass near by. Gaining some air, you swallow some water and breathe through your nose. Normally you would have a response for Sydney’s joke but given what carmy just said to you had your mind running along with some burning tears you wiped away.

“So this is where you’ve been instead of answering me back?” You decide to switch the subject-you were great at that-wheezing a bit while Carmy scoffs and looks away.

Sydney frowns, “huh? When did you call me besides the FaceTime call…” she starts and pulls out her phone, “oh shit sorry. I placed it on do not disturb like thirty minutes after you didn’t call me back. I got wrapped into some entail about the menu from one of the chef’s that works here and is also a friend.”

Carmy speaks, “Didn’t know you had a connect with anybody here, Syd.”

“Can’t reveal all my moves, Carm.” She winks and lightly elbows him while Carmy sends her a small smile and a shake of his head.

Carmy asks, “scooping out our competition?”

“Only a little," She pinches her fingers before continuing, "and my dad thought it would be a place I wanted to try.” Sydney admits, “and if you two weren’t on a date I’d say let’s make this a group thing! so I’ll be going! I see my dad coming back from the bathroom…he’s got like a bladder problem and I don’t know why I’m sharing that with you two. But bye! Enjoy and just know I’ll be keeping my eye on you two.”

“Fuck,” carmy exhaled feeling his nerves rising, “don’t do that.”

Sydney chuckles to herself and sends a wave to you two before walking back to her table by the window.

“Siddy kicked me to the curb for her dad,” you sigh resting your cheek into your knuckles for a moment, “can’t be mad at that.”

“But you can be mad at me for what exactly?”

“You wanna do this with me right now?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“I thought we could move past what happened—

“You can say it you know? Me with my fingers inside—

“Excuse me!” You hiss, “I don’t need you to repeat action by action thank you. I was there too. We both know what happened, we’d agreed we can coexist around this big ass city. I show up to support—

“Did you though?” Carmy pressed, “support me? Or am I waiting for something else to be thrown at me with your upcoming review?”

“What?!” You bite, “is that what your stank ass attitude is about?”

Carmy tightened his jaw just as the first serving was handed over. You let him sulk in that for some time as you study the plating of the four appetizers, making note of each before taking more pictures with your sony.

“I wasn’t there to write a review.” You reply.

“I saw you—

“Let me finish. I understand pressure so I get it but you have to learn to channel your anger and this grief, elsewhere and deal with it better without projecting it onto any and everybody. I’ll tell you that right now that won’t get you anywhere and especially with me, Carmen.” You affirm.

You’ve been in Carmy’s position before so you can speak with experience. He seemed to always be waiting for the worse to continue filling up his plate but it takes time to accept the good in life. He was giving you something but you weren’t sure it was the best option for the both of you and you weren’t afraid to say that.

“Alright…I didn’t come here to talk about feelings either you know? That’s what those meetings are for.” Carmy spills just a tad.

You stare at the vibrant but delicate plating but his tone and the soft upbeat tempo above your heads don’t go unnoticed. “What did you come here for then?”

Carmy blinks and snatches up a spoon, almost weighing it in his hands before he dives the utensil into the dish. He stares as the stretch of cheese, twisting the spoon to break it apart before holding the Macaroni and Brie with Crab out for you to take the first bite.

He doesn’t answer for awhile and so you do the honors of taking a bite and savoring it's texture and taste.

“…that’s not my favorite.” You announce and notice that Carmy waited for your view.

He raises his brows, “tell me about it?”

“They need different plating.” You deeply sigh, “I know that type of plating works best for a dessert and that’s not it. There’s more breadcrumbs than meat, which seems to not be fully removed from its shell so be careful with that. It’s also lacking flavor even with the brie, which is my least favorite kind of cheese in Mac, although many swear by it.”

Carmy flicks his attention to your disappointment to you scribbling into your notepad with a shake of your head. If he was making you a dish, he’d try his hardest to make sure it was everything you ever wanted.

He quickly has his share and thinks to himself.

Carmy can agree, this was lacking flavor and the breadcrumbs didn’t even have a crunch to them. You can’t just depend on the cheese to give you flavor in Mac and cheese.

“What’s your favorite dish? I—I don’t think I ever asked you that. We just went straight into talking about the beef.”

And doing dirty things in the front seat but who needs to relive that?!

You look up from your notes and lift your chin, “you’re looking at it. It’s childish I know...but that’s exactly what it reminds me of: my childhood. Mac and cheese! then as I got into my adulthood…crab kinda took over. Which is funny because I hated on it for so long growing up. My papa—my grandad, he helped my mom raise me, he's from Ocean City so you can only imagine the amount of seafood on our table.”

You’re smiling to yourself and Carmy can’t help but to feel his small laughter lines appear by his lips as you’re locked into some memory only you can remember vividly. This was the most Carmy was learning about you, sure it may not look like much but he didn’t feel the need to dissociate even if at times he really couldn’t help it.

You were the question mark that he wanted to figure out and get all the answers to. Maybe it was his gut and he shouldn’t have blabbed to sugar about you because now Carmy was thinking this was Michael’s doing.

If you believe in that shit.

So the both of you take your time trying the small dishes before getting the main courses. It seems the longer you sit across from each other—the tension was definitely still there especially with Sydney’s eyes burning into the two of you across the room and attempting to not get caught—although she had once or twice but gradually it lifted as you and carmy shared this time together.

He watched you work while you asked for his input before you told your own. He also provided a few things he would do to tweak it if he agreed with what you didn’t enjoy. Which was eye-opening for you, yes you went to school for journalism and sat in on some cooking classes once that also tied into your passion for learning. After completing your first degree you decided culinary may take you to different heights and enrolled into culinary school. You didn’t find the need to continue going through with being a chef after Copenhagen, finding writing to be your stronger suit but you still understood food and the relationship with it when it came to chef’s.

So you took carmy’s input into consideration.

With the last serving being a Asian dessert called, “Jjan Hae,” which consisted of: coconut rice pudding served with fresh citrus (orange, grapefruit, kumquat) and coffee ice cream, topped with crispy pop rice & a shot of Korean rice wine, it was a strange concept but the both of you came to terms with the dessert working well.

Carmy even took a video to show Marcus tomorrow at the bear and sent a photo to an old colleague, Luca, that you were also familiar with considering Noma was a thing that you didn’t bother speaking much on…but it was your turn to give carmy the last serving.

He hesitated since he had his own bowl, which he finished way before you did but it was clear you wanted him to have the last bite so he also took it while saying something with his eyes.

Breaking the stare, the both of you felt your phone buzz with a text. Carmy didn’t jump to answer it right away…he was the worst texter according to Nat and Sydney but you can answer for the both of you as it was a group text from Sydney who was long gone with her dad.

Siddy + (773) XXX-XXXX: Carmy, invite aspen to breakfast in the morning?? See you guys then! 👍🏾😉

“You guys do breakfast at the bear now?” You say lifting your eyes from your screen.

You heard Sydney made a mean omelette but you haven’t been back since earlier this year and you weren’t in the mood for that that night.

Carmy frowns and closes his eyes with a shake of his head, “uh yeah it’s a new thing that Syd came up with but we agreed to do that with everyone once a month…later this month. Why?”

“She wants me to have breakfast with you guys…knowing I’m not a morning person.”

“It’s not happening tomorrow anyway, so what is she talking about?” Carmy digs into his jacket, where he carelessly shoved his phone into after sending the photo off to Luca.

Another text rings out: at carmy’s place. just us three???

Not Sydney making plans and then placing it all at Carmy’s apartment.

He’s taking a breath, almost as a silent reminder for him to do so before his thumbs move over his screen: i don’t even eat breakfast, Syd.

Syd: well youre gonna.

~ Syd has notifications silenced 🌙 ~

“Well, looks like your work wife told your ass.” You laugh, which you translated into her message but didn’t comment further than that.

Carmy harshly exhales through his nostrils in disbelief, “my work wife huh?”

He didn’t hate how that sounded but he also never thought about marriage or relationships in awhile.

“Yeah…the proof is in the pudding, no matter what anyone says.”

Carmy pinched at his bottom lip as he attempts to dryly joke, “I thought it was rice? and what about outside work…”

“That’s something you have to figure out yourself.” You shrug, getting ready to pack up your notes and cameras.

You turn your attention to the table, which knows just when to lift as you tap on the screen to signal that you’re ready to pay while holding out your company card, “are you paying cash for the tip or card?”

“Uh, cash.” Carmy answers, “…what if I’m starting to think about what come’s next?”

“With Syd?” You question, your now sage and mint scented hands flying over the screen as you select the correct paying method before tapping your company card against the screen.

Carmy starts bouncing his leg underneath the table, “with everything.”

“Well…when you’re ready you’ll make moves to make it happen won’t you?”

Carmy dips his head, “you bet.”

And here comes the intense eye contact that you can’t help but to huff out some laughter.

“What’s funny?”

“It’s just people with light eyes always do this thing where they’re just staring into your soul you know? Like damn, relax!”

Carmy’s confused as he holds his wallet open, “uh sorry for having eyes?”

“Shut up, glacier eyes.” You tell while Carmy just snorts at you.

The both of you don’t waste any time rushing back to his car as the clock is approaching 10pm. The wind’s definitely picked up and the temperature dropped, making it easier not to get caught up in the night time city lights which you often liked to do. Back in the van, carmy doesn’t wait to crank up the heat and you don’t bother to mess with the radio this time.

“So?” Carmy asks as he waits for the car to warm up some.

You keep your attention outside the window shield, “yes?”

“What’s the rating?”

“What makes you think I’m going to tell you that, Carmen?” You continue holding yourself.

He sniffs, “I mean—I was sitting across from you the entire night while you told me some of your thoughts.”

“So you thought you should also get the final score? I don’t even know what I’m going to say yet.”

“Ah, I think you’ve got some idea.” Carmy lolls his head over to peek at you.

Laughter bubbles past your lips, “I do. I’ve absolutely had better because—what the fuck was that?”

Carmen feels a crooked smirk appear on his own face, “I don’t want to completely bash other chef’s work but fuck, I thought it was just me? You said it got a 4.3 out of 5? The ambience and service was spot on but…the flavor for most of the dishes?”

“I knew you knew something about seasoning,” you continued laughing while carmy rolled his eyes, “should spend less on the tech and interior and more on some fresh herbs.”

“Isn’t it called simmer saffron?”

That made you laugh even harder as you gripped your stomach, “You’ve got that so backwards!”

And carmy couldn’t help but to scan your features as you laughed and he felt his chest getting somewhat lighter? Just listening to the sound of you and being beside you. What kind of feeling was this? He’s felt it before looking at someone else but that feeling was more of a tug with that light while this one slowly poured in from the black.

“Don’t be too hard on ‘em though? There’s always room for improvement.”

“Sure, but we both know the bear is better and you guys don’t have a waist list months in advance.”

“We also don’t have any celebrities showing up either.”

“Yet.”

Carmy taps his fingers against the steering wheel, appreciating that, “right, yet…I’m sorry about March. I was too in my head about so much shit and you’re right, I took it out on everyone and I’m still trying to make up for it.”

“Effort doesn’t ever go unnoticed if people look and feel it hard enough.”

Carmy chews on his lips at that, “if you believe that…then why do you feel what I said about dating—uh us—about us dating is out of the blue?”

“I said that?”

“Your eyes did. It’s the most expressive thing about you which is funny to me when you talk so much shit about mine when you hide the rest of it away on your face. It’s fucking confusing but I think I gathered that from our dinner tonight.”

Carmy was just as detail oriented as you. It was in his language with food and maybe even in his tattoos that you tried to understand starting with his fingers first. The way he spoke about what he would do with the dishes that were lackluster, except for the dessert—that was pretty good. Carmy wasn’t much of a talker because he wasn’t sure how to express himself, always been that way since you knew of him at Noma…but he told just enough in his dishes and you told just enough between the lines you wrote.

Someone just had to look hard enough.

“…I ever tell you I was engaged? Of course I didn’t, we’re still…I don’t know what the hell we’re doing here Carmen but I’m starting to sense that we could be special if we both want this badly.”

“What do you want?”

“Does anyone ever really know?” You laughed, “ I guess someone to look past the circumstanial and I had that once but then he died. So that was the end of that.”

“You swore off love.”

“Love is many things but maybe I closed off the long lasting part.”

Carmy could relate to that as least with family. He never had much interest in romance even growing up because he lacked that confidence in anything being permanent besides the chaos he’s used to, then he found some of it once he proved what he fucking set out to do yet cooking was all Carmen really opened himself up to. While Luca and others encouraged him to have a night out in the town, he always left early or if there was one person that caught his interest, they get to talking and both get bored of each other since Carmy hardly made the move to take them back to his. Before Noma?

Maybe.

Back in Paris there was one that could have been permanent but Carmy had to break her heart since Noma was calling. Culinary was his true love and he honestly couldn’t tell you what she even looked like now if you asked him. Things that should have mattered tended to get buried in the blue of his mind unfortunately.

He didn’t have the time to be attached and you didn’t want to have your heart ripped out again.

“How’d—

“He was a firefighter.” Was all you said and just those words alone told carmy it was anything but peaceful.

It took a lot for carmy to scream at himself how Michael went out and he imagined it might have been the same for you. So he wouldn’t dare ask for further morbid details because what did that help?

So maybe you weren’t wrong about the both of you not being ready to take that step on going on dates but change was everlasting.

“Uh—what about breakfast then after that not so great meal?” Carmy asks as he pulls off from the curb now.

You think about it. Really think about it that carmy starts to assume you may have dozed off.

“Depends on the time honestly? And who am I to turn down a free meal?” You beamed at Carmy who lifts his shoulders with a chuckle.

Carmy explains, “Syd and I usually start our days early, sometimes even earlier for me if I don’t get enough hours in. but thanks to the reno those on the early shift can get prep ready and I heard…you’re not a morning person?”

You’re just as sarcastic but there’s no lies, “I don’t even know my name or birthdate when I first wake up…what do you think?”

Carmy snickered at that, “okay? So how does 10am sound?”

“That’s pushing it but…I think I can be there so that’ll give me the rest of the day to work from home.”

Carmy nods, “can’t wait to read it. Shake on it?”

“On what? My review or showing up?”

“Both.”

“I’m not sending you a sneak peek, maybe syd or even nat but not you.”

“Ouch.” Carmy mocks, still waiting for your hand to touch his.

And when you do there’s a spark, that makes you yank your hand back and you feel like you’re in one of those cheesy teen movies.

You’re aware carmy’s felt that too but he just clears his throat and placed his hand back on the steering wheel. Leaving you to lightly massage the palm of your hand, now glancing at the profile of carmy’s face.

Life takes time to live but once you start to just let it be, the green starts to stand out more and can be equally as joyous…once you get through the rain and mud that is.

And once the ice blue sets back on you, the both of you can’t exactly see the future but there’s always warmth waiting for the cold to give them a try.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

February fluff anthology series continues here.

[animatedjen]

What are you hoping to see in Jedi 3 when it comes out (either story or gameplay wise)? I really hope Cal doesn't get killed off, but given that Luke is (allegedly) the last Jedi by the time of the original trilogy, I know I have to brace myself for that possibility.

So funny story, the "does Cal die at the end of Jedi 3" conversation happened (again) on Twitter last week, and I wrote a thread - you can read it here or with a non-Twitter link. Ended up getting way more attention than planned, a ton of people misunderstood my point, and now I'm a little gunshy about sharing opinions over there for a bit haha. But the community is much smaller on Tumblr so I think I'm still okay here 🫠

I do have a pile of Jedi 3 ideas from earlier this summer! Which includes the the first draft of my "Cal should live" perspective. One new thought is about the Force Slow ability - the way Cal has accessed it throughout the narrative of both games, and how that instinctual power (driven by emotion?) looks and feels different from his other force abilities, especially in Survivor.

It's ultimately been "stained" by darkness, and when (I hope) Cal finds some sort of inner peace, I'd love to see his Force Slow ability be "healed" to a new expression of that power. Not as raw and wild as the dark side, but something that comes from a place of hope instead of desperation. Maybe he learns how to be a shield instead of a sword due to Cere's teaching? (there's a small visual parallel there but that's probably worth exploring in its own post)

As far as Cal's existence clashing with our understanding of Star Wars canon, it can feel complicated. Technically Ahsoka and Ezra are somewhere during ESB, though disowning the Jedi title or getting stuck in the Unknown Regions might disqualify them enough. Will Cal still consider himself a Jedi by the end of the trilogy? Is this just an issue of semantics, or availability, or Luke being the only one operating by the Jedi code of old? Would Yoda actually know if any other Jedi exist?

Honestly not sure. Now if the third game lets Cal visit Dagobah, that's a different conversation...

[misettemisette]

Chapter 8 ➺ Confusion and directions

Starting over In Madrid

Summary: After moving to Madrid as Real Madrid's new photographer, Nicky can’t seem to take her eyes off the pretty face Misa Rodríguez. But how will she handle her growing desire for the Canarian goalkeeper when her contract strictly forbids dating players? WC: 6K words TW: very suggestive PS: French writer, by far the most changes from the first version here, wrote this last year so context is based on the 23/24 season

Chapter 1 ➺ A harder job than I thought Chapter 2 ➺ Clearly on a bad slope Chapter 3 ➺ Calmly panicking Chapter 4 ➺ Hell Clásico Chapter 5 ➺ Valleys and Peaks Chapter 6 ➺ Paris est magique Chapter 7 ➺ In the Haze

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

Early summer at the Ciudad was lively and colorful, like the wings fluttering in my stomach. The Real Madrid footballers were playing their last games of the season, putting all their remaining strength into them. Everybody was tried. The season had been tough for the women’s team, with great victories but also hard, humiliating defeats. So the girls were not only physically drained but also mentally exhausted. The summer break would be more than necessary before starting over with a new football season in September.

Nevertheless, every day, training sessions had a fresh and invigorating energy. I photographed all the players, trying not to focus on one in particular. But when nobody was watching, my lens always searched for the tall, tanned goalkeeper. I captured her body suspended in the air, her features drawn in concentration, the tension in her legs as she anticipated her next jump.

When photographing Misa, I wasn’t just the Real Madrid photographer, I was Nicky, capturing the girl I loved, drawn by the strength and dedication she exuded. Misa had become my favorite model, and my feelings for her were yet another motivation to keep practicing, even when her practice session was over. Sometimes, I discreetly snapped pictures of her on her way to the cafeteria or the parking lot. Those were my best shots: unexpected and unfiltered. Urban photography felt dull without her somewhere in the background. And I couldn’t wait to ask Misa if I could photograph her in the streets of the Spanish capital.

Yes, I was in love.

Deeply.

In love with my colleague. In love with my muse.

And all I wanted to know was whether Misa felt the same about me.

Back on the field, I noticed I wasn’t the only one losing focus at times. I often caught Misa glancing in my direction, only to pull away a split second later. When she realized I was photographing her, she would smile lightly and focus even harder than usual, her grin turning bashful whenever she failed to stop the ball.

But Misa was Misa, wholehearted in everything she did, yet somehow incredibly nonchalant. Her main focus remained football, and although she was always up for us spending time together during our free hours, she also needed her moments alone. It wasn’t rare for her to put on her earphones in the middle of an evening at home or to disappear into the bedroom for an hour or so. She was glued to her phone and could bury herself in social networks, scrolling and typing endlessly. Her nonchalance was irritating, especially because it made her even more attractive. I felt weak. Misa owned me with a simple look, a hand on my thigh, or a light kiss on my neck…

But at least I was sure of one thing: Misa was as addicted to our hookups as I was.

Several times a week, the brunette and I met at one of our apartments. Tired of having to act like just friends at the Ciudad, we were relieved to escape that environment. I hated having to keep my distance from her during work hours, longing for a glance, a wave, a touch… And then there was my desire for her, growing hotter and more urgent every time she was in sight. Maybe we were making up in bed for the proximity we couldn’t have outside.

Consequently, as soon as we set foot in one of our apartments, we would start making out, our hands roaming, smiles timid between kisses. We would head straight to the bedroom, pulling off our clothes in a hurry, her large hands keeping me close as our kisses grew more heated. We would stay like that for a moment, caressing our bare bodies, kissing more, sometimes chuckling when our intertwined limbs tangled the bedsheets.

Misa was unraveling a world of fantasy I had never even dreamed of. She could be so soft, but also rough, and rather needy as well. We were still in the stage of discovery, understanding, learning each other’s bodies. We would try this, and that, driven by the insatiable need for each other…

On one particularly warm night, Misa and I talked for hours. We were lying naked in my bed, exhausted and relieved after yet another evening of mind-blowing sex. We were sweaty, but Misa held me against her, indifferent to the heat. The window was wide open, hoping to let in some fresh air from outside. Unfortunately, the curtain, drawn to shield us from the neighbors’ view, blocked most of it. As a matter of fact, the curtain was more than necessary to hide some rather explicit details of the scene: a purple toy, an abandoned harness, some ribbons, and our interlaced bare bodies.

"Jajaja! No, Nicky! It doesn’t work like that!" the goalkeeper laughed after I asked another dumb football question.

"Why? I thought you said the ball wasn’t really round!" I replied, laughing as well at my own ignorance.

"Vale, the ball’s not a perfect round, that’s how we can do a curved shot, but it’s still not an egg!" 

A warm gust of wind entered through the window, sending ripples through the curtains and the bedsheets. I shivered but wasn’t cold, the feeling of freshness was welcome. The goalkeeper’s tan hands brushed my arms and pulled me in closer. I shivered again, but not because of the wind this time.

"¿Tienes frío?" she asked, her voice suddenly softer.

I shook my head. I felt warm, inside and out.

Her mouth brushed my jawline, and I turned around, meeting her lips. My palm fell on her cheek, and my fingers gently tangled in her hair, pulling her closer. My desire awoke again as we kissed slowly.

“I better stop, or we’ll go for another round,” I confessed.

The goalkeeper smiled and dragged her lips along my jaw again.

“I wouldn’t mind,” she murmured, but then a big yawn took over. “Oh, perdón.”

I planted a kiss on her cheekbone. “You look so tired. We’ll have plenty of time another day. What’s on your schedule tomorrow?”

“I have to wake up early to do some commercials, and I have medical and physio appointments in the afternoon, then training at six,” Misa yawned again. “You?”

“I’m working on the photo direction for the end of the season, you know, retrospectives, key moments, stuff like that… I think I’ll go for something emotional but fun.”

I paused and sighed. I had been really sad to learn that Sofie Svava was leaving, among others. I knew it was even harder for Misa, who had really connected with the Danish defender. I preferred to change the subject.

“I’ll show up at training as usual. I’m not complaining, I wanted a stimulating job, but I could use a vacation!”

“Ay, sí! ¡Vacaciones!” Misa shifted, unsticking our sweaty skin with a wince.

I pulled away, and Misa flipped onto her side, settling herself comfortably on the pillow.

“By the way, what did you do before joining Real Madrid?” she asked me.

“I worked for a communications agency that handled… banks. I was so bored! You can’t imagine how many smiling men in their thirties with thick glasses I had to photograph. Or boxes, yes, boxes! Banks are obsessed with boxes: closed boxes, open boxes, full boxes, empty boxes… I even did a campaign with people diving into a giant box once.”

Misa chuckled. “Did you ever put a 30-year-old man with glasses inside a fancy box?”

I burst into laughter. “I did not, thank God! What a nightmare it was! Anyway, moving to Madrid is the best thing that could have happened to me!“

We both grinned. Every time she smiled, Misa had the nerve to be both adorable and gorgeous. I couldn’t help but think she was the best thing that had happened to me. She was wonderful, looking at me like that.

But then, her expression shifted to uncertainty. “You said… it wasn’t only because of your job that you wanted to leave, right?” the brunette asked, an implicit question lingering behind.

The soft, curious look in her almond eyes broke down my last barrier. I bit my lip and swallowed, clinging to her brown gaze as I recalled what I had tried to leave behind.

“Er… my ex dumped me. She found somebody else. We had been together for three and a half years…” I rolled onto my back, unable to bear her gaze anymore, and stared at the ceiling instead.

“The worst part was how long it lasted, the breakup. She let our relationship rot but wouldn’t leave me. She probably cheated on me with her new girl during the last few months. In the end, I was so angry and sad that I cheated on her too. And I’m really not proud of that on so many levels… That was when she finally realized she had broken up with me for good. She wasn’t even mad or anything, she just didn’t love me anymore and hadn’t had the guts to leave me. In a way, I think I provoked it myself. I just couldn’t take it anymore. It had to stop.”

My eyes stayed on the ceiling as I remembered the pain I had been in.

Misa rested her head on my shoulder, her eyes avoiding mine. “I’m sorry, cariño…” She draped an arm across my torso and simply stayed there. Despite the heat, her warmth and closeness were comforting. “I was curious, but… I don’t want you to feel bad.”

“No, I’m glad I told you.” I lifted my arm so she could settle in better and wrapped it around her. My lips brushed against her forehead. “It’s over now, and I don’t regret anything.”

“Mucho mejor,” she said, and we stayed silent for a moment. Misa closed her eyes. She seemed to be drifting off.

“What about you? I mean… with girls?” I inquired awkwardly.

She let out a short chuckle but answered anyway, her eyelids still shut.

“I’ve had a few relationships, mostly with footballers. It’s easier to understand each other, but every type of relationship brings its own problems. Football is a very competitive sport. Everything quickly becomes a conflict of interest, and one day it affects you.”

“Oh… I’m sorry too…” I said, waiting a moment for her to continue. But she stayed silent.

Misa was a chatty person when it came to having fun and talking nonsense, but she didn’t seem eager to talk about more personal things yet. On the contrary, the more time I spent with her, the more I felt at ease. Tonight, telling her about my past relationship even made me feel good, like I had unburdened myself of something. I longed for Misa to open up more too, but I respected her pace and didn’t try to push things.

Realizing she didn’t want to say more, I teased, “So now you’re hooking up with a girl from your own club staff, illegally!” I laughed.

But far from being amused, the brunette straightened up with a reprobative look. “Hey! You didn’t warn me from the start!”

“I tried to stop you, but you were stubborn! You don’t like it when a girl resists you!“

Misa’s mouth fell open. “Like you didn’t want it too! You didn’t look at Hayley like that! I could tell there was something!”

I blushed but replied, “I’m not saying I didn’t want you. I’m saying I didn’t make it easy, and you took it as a challenge.”

“Pfff, Nicky…”

Misa lifted herself over me and seized my hands, making me gasp, and pinned them above my head onto the soft pillow. A naughty look spread across her gorgeous face when she heard my breathing deepen.

“You have never resisted me,” she stated.

I snorted, but her dominant behavior was really turning me on. I tried to free myself and searched for a way to turn the tables, failing at both. The goalkeeper’s hold was far too strong for me.

“You’re forgetting something,” I said, my voice soft, contrasting with my body fidgeting under her.

“Am I?” Misa asked, smirking in satisfaction.

“Yes, Honey,” I replied, the little name escaping me.

It was the first time I had called her a pet name, and she froze for half a second before composing herself again.

“And what did I forget?” she asked mischievously. Her gaze was softer, and she bent over to kiss me before letting me answer.

Her kiss started teasing, provocative. I breathed harder, aroused by her luscious lips enclosing mine. Her taste filled my mouth, her breath enveloped me. She smelled so good. So… herself.

Honey.

Calling her that hadn’t really been intentional, but it forced me to admit that my affection for her was becoming hard to control.

Misa exhaled, let go of my hands, and I realized I had closed my eyes, changing our kiss into something softer, more tender. Her palms cupped my face, and I wasn’t long to do the same.

“Misa…,” I whispered, my feelings for her taking over my desire.

I kissed the young woman harder, the contact of her mouth the only possible way to stop myself from telling her how I felt right away.

Misa let me push her back against the mattress, a faint whine escaping her lips. I instinctively rolled over her before pulling back slowly. The brunette’s eyes were closed, her expression so soft when she opened them… Could she feel what I was feeling right now? Was she fighting just as hard not to tell me how much she loved me? I was amazed that I managed to hold the words inside.

Instead, I kissed her forehead and inhaled the sweet scent of her hairline.

“So… what did I forget?” she chuckled, breaking the silence.

“Ah, yes…”

I felt as if I had traveled deep into my own mind and was only now coming back.

“I may have never resisted you…” I said, still hovering over her. I took her hands gently, placing another small kiss on her lips. “But you have never resisted me either.”

***

A month passed. June had come, bringing a lot of work with it.

It was the last week before the official end of the season. Most players had already gone on holiday, either back with their families or traveling somewhere, but I was stuck at Ciudad Real Madrid to finish one last task: photographing the new team members.

The club had announced the departures the week before without much care. Apart from rushed mockups posted on social media, nothing had been planned to properly thank the players leaving, so most of them had organized their own goodbye parties. Sofie’s was tomorrow night at her home. I knew it was going to be a bittersweet moment for her friends, especially for Misa.

On top of that, Angela was arriving the day after and would be staying at my place for the week. I couldn’t wait, and work hours seemed to tick by incredibly slowly.

Thankfully, creating the portraits of the new players’ arrivals was a rather stimulating task. I met the new team members, many of whom came from other Spanish clubs. The presentations were brief, though I got along well with Alba Redondo from Levante and a tall French girl named Léa Koffi, who would be the second goalkeeper.

Accompanied by the design team, I had set up a classy yet fun backdrop: an open archway framing a beautiful view of Madrid in the background. The entire set was pure white with navy blue outlines to match the club’s identity. The players had fun with it, taking various poses in and around the archway, showing their excitement at joining Real Madrid.

When she received the freshly made portraits, my boss, Ana, quietly told me she was very happy with the results and wanted to discuss further opportunities for me at Real Madrid soon.

Proud and thrilled, I parked in front of Misa’s building that evening. I had insisted on picking her and Hayley up at their places. Sofie had asked me to be the official photographer of her party, and I didn’t like to drink when using my precious camera. So, planning to stay sober tonight, I could just as well be the taxi.

When the brunette arrived, I was bubbling with excitement, impatient to tell her about my success at work today. But Misa seemed moody, opening the passenger door and slipping inside the car with a forced smile.

“Hey Honey, what’s up? Are you sad already?” I asked, worried.

“Hola Cari, I’m okay,” she said, greeting me with a swift kiss.

“Are you sure?” I dared to insist.

She looked at her lap, answering with a sigh, “Yes, but I guess I’ll never really get used to seeing a friend go.”

“Oh, Mis’.” I opened my arms, and Misa let me cuddle her for a moment. “I have good news,” I began, hoping to brighten her mood. “Today, Ana said she’s very happy with my work. I think I might get a promotion or something!” I told her eagerly.

Misa leaned back. To my surprise, a look of dismay flickered on her pretty face. She quickly recomposed herself.

“Guao, bravo Nicky!” she congratulated me, taking me back in her arms.

I hugged her back, realizing her broad shoulders were rising up and down with her deep breathing. What was going on with Misa? The good news seemed to have saddened her even more. My fingers gently brushed her hair, and I felt an urge to tell her about my feelings, to tell her that I was here for her.

“I got you, Honey,” I managed to say, my words carrying their meaning and more.

Misa pulled away, avoiding my gaze.

“Lo siento,” she said. “I think tonight’s a bit hard for me. I’m glad this fucking season’s finally over. At the same time, I have the international break in a week, and I know I’ll be benched… Real Madrid’s not doing well enough. I’m not doing well enough… It’s been my best and worst year since I started football, and I… I don’t really know where I’m at right now.”

She stopped, taking a deep breath as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

“I’ve told you how I feel about that," I said, my fingers wiping the tear away delicately. "You have to gain your self-confidence back, Misa. And you won’t if you keep beating yourself up like that.” I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. “And I know it doesn’t mean much from a sports perspective, but you impress me every day.” She broke a small, genuine smile at last. “Though, I have never dated a footballer before, so maybe that doesn’t count…” I added, grinning and squeezing her shoulders possessively.

Misa’s gaze lingered on me before going back to her lap. “Nicky…” she mumbled.

She stayed with her mouth open, but no sound came out. My heartbeat quickened. What was she going to say?

“Nicky…" she repeated, her troubled eyes meeting mine, unblinking. I froze, hanging onto her lips, waiting for them to form the words.

“Nicky… I…”

“Hum?” A questioning sound escaped me, encouraging her.

Misa closed her mouth and then opened it again.

“I…” My heart was going to burst. If only she could just say she loved me! 

Oh, Misa, I loved you too!

“…I’m not only a footballer. You’re dating a goalkeeper, we are a special species.” she finally said, her teasing tone back.

“What?” I was so disappointed and taken aback by her sudden change of behavior that I didn’t register what she meant.

Misa started to laugh, honestly. “Tu cara, jajaja! You should see your face! You look like I just confessed my deepest secret!”

I swallowed and pulled away, thinking to myself how I wished she had told me that instead of going back to joking again.

I felt her hands taking my face back to hers, pulling me into a kiss.

“Perdón, Nicky, y gracias por tu apoyo, Cariño. I’m feeling better, and I think we should get going,” she said before adding, “I’m impressed by your ability to find the right words of comfort.”

You’re fucking unbearable! I thought, but I grinned, slightly reassured, and turned on the engine.

Misa, Hayley, and I arrived at Sofie’s home among the last. Her flat was crowded with people chatting in small groups, loud music accompanying the few dancers in the middle of her living room. There were hugs and sweet words, but the atmosphere was relaxed and festive.

Sofie accompanied us to the kitchen and pointed out where the drinks were for the girls. She served me a grapefruit juice while Misa and Hayley improvised as bartenders, eagerly mixing various beverages together. I left the two friends to their business and followed Sofie back to the living room, where I would set up a photo call.

While Sofie and I installed the background, lights, and tripod in a corner of the room, I glanced around at the guests. Most of them were familiar faces from Real Madrid, but I noticed a few people I didn’t know. A blond guy and a Latina woman approached us, raising their glasses in a toast.

“To our favorite Danish tourist!” the woman said.

“Thank you, Carmen!” Sofie responded. “Carmen, this is Nicky, she’s Real Madrid’s photographer and a dear friend. Nicky, this is Carmen, she showed me every corner of Madrid, basically. And this is her boyfriend, Swen. I wouldn’t have settled here so well if it wasn’t for them,” she sighed with emotion, then added, ��Actually, Nicky’s only been here for a few months, maybe you could take her around since you won’t have to look after me anymore.”

“Of course we can! So, I see you’ll be our photographer tonight as well! Class!” Swen said.

The three of us started chatting happily. Swen was interested in the arts and planned to show me some trendy new places. Carmen loved food and walks and had far too many recommendations for anything I could possibly want to eat, as well as any type of ride in and around the city. They were the first to strike a pose at the newly installed photo call. Afterward, we exchanged numbers, and the couple went to join other friends.

I photographed a few more people, and time passed quickly. After a while, I went to the terrace to get some fresh air, leaning against the railing and watching the city stretch into the horizon. I had fallen in love with Madrid too, I thought, gazing at the rooftops in the distance. I felt completely at home here, and the idea of having new friends to explore the city with excited me.

Still, I was confused by Misa’s behavior in my car. Why hadn’t she said what she wanted? Why had she changed her mind at last moment? I felt annoyed, Misa really was hard to follow sometimes. 

“Hey…” I jumped at the goalkeeper’s voice. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just taking a break,” I responded, not wanting to make a scene over nothing.

“Venga.” Misa pulled me toward a more secluded part of the terrace, away from the view of the other residents. She took me in her arms and kissed me passionately. Her lips tasted of alcohol with a hint of coconut. I felt stiff, I couldn’t relax with so many Real Madrid members in the room next to us, so Misa pulled back.

“I feel like I’ve been kind of a jerk earlier…” she began nervously. Her movements were goofier than usual, a clear sign she was on her way to being drunk. She scratched her nose before resting her hands on my neck, her eyes darting across my face.

“Nicky…” she muttered, kissing me again.

My hands rested against her torso, my breath caught in my throat, my eyes locked onto hers.

“Nicky… T…”

“Hey, Misa! Have you seen Ni…” Sofie’s voice rang out from behind the goalkeeper.

Misa froze and turned around, revealing Sofie, who was now staring at us, her mouth agape.

“Oh my god, I knew it!” she said, grinning wide.

“Shhh, Sofie! Please keep your voice down,” I panicked.

“Why? I don’t care, this is great! But my gosh! I knew there was something between you two!”

Misa grabbed the Danish girl and pulled her further into our more private corner. “Sofie, this is serious, you have to keep it secret. Nicky could lose her job!”

Sofie’s smile faltered as she processed that. I took her arm gently.

“I’m not allowed to date Real Madrid players, it’s in my contract. You can’t tell anyone, do you understand?”

Sofie blinked, then rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay, I got it! But what the fuck?! Is that even legal?”

I shrugged, and she suddenly pulled us both into a hug. “Oh my god, girls, I’m so happy for you! I’m gonna miss you even more.”

“We’ll miss you too, Sofie,” I said. “Were you looking for me?”

“Yes, a group of friends wanted a photo, but I totally understand if you want to come later!” She studied us again, chuckling childishly. “I’m glad I’m leaving you in good hands, Misa.”

But Misa, beyond embarrassed, hid her face in her hands.

Already frustrated by Sofie’s interruption, I was done with Misa not being able to speak. “I’ll go photograph your friends. Come on, Misa, let’s go back inside.”

So I resumed my job of photographing the guests, with Misa, soon joined by Hayley, singing and dancing wildly behind me. I captured Sofie in a cowboy hat, the Real Madrid staff with their faces covered in glitter, players dressed in neon colors… Group after group replaced each other for over an hour, until finally, the two loud girls in Hawaiian shirts and sunglasses, large cocktails in hand, were the last to take their turn, perfecting their ridiculous looks.

As they struck poses, I noticed Misa was even messier than before. She was barely standing upright without swaying. Hayley looked drunk too, though not as much. They kept laughing, posing more ridiculously each time.

When they finally ran out of ideas, Hayley turned to me. “Nicky, go with Misa! You have to be in some photos!”

I wasn’t thrilled about the idea of leaving my camera in the hands of a drunk Australian winger, but she left me no choice, dragging me onto the set and placing herself behind the tripod.

Misa handed me her sunglasses, and we mimicked surfing, diving, and other beach activities. I actually had fun, though I kept an eye on Misa as she continued sipping her cocktail. To wrap things up, Hayley asked for a classic shot, so we simply stood side by side, arms around each other.

“All good,” she announced after taking the picture, then started reviewing the photos on the camera screen.

That’s when I felt the goalkeeper losing balance, her weight suddenly pressing against my shoulder.

“Misa?” I tried to steady her, but she immediately pulled away.

“No, Nicky, alguien could vernos!” she stammered in Spanglish, grabbing onto a spotlight and nearly knocking it over.

“Whoa, Misa!” Hayley darted forward to hold her.

“How much have you two been drinking?” I asked, supporting Misa from the other side.

The Aussie looked guilty. “A few glasses… I’m not really sure how much for Misa.”

“No me siento good…” the goalkeeper mumbled, looking paler and more disoriented.

I took the cocktail from her hand and set it aside. “Come lie down in Sofie’s bed. You just drank too much. It’s gonna be okay.”

Hayley and I helped Misa to the bedroom and laid her down. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was sweating.

“Nicky?” the goalie called faintly.

��I’m going to get Sofie,” Hayley announced before stepping out of the room, taking care to close the door behind her.

I crouched beside the bed, resting my hand on hers as she closed her eyes.

“I’m here.”

“Nicky… disculpe, no lo puedo hacer… No me puedo acostumbrar. No lo sabía, ahora se acabó. Disculpe,” the goalkeeper murmured.

“Uh… sorry, Misa, I don’t understand Spanish that well. I’m going to get you some water, okay?”

But Misa reached for me, holding me close.

“No te vayas!… I’m sorry…”

I cupped her damp face, my voice softer. “I’m just bringing you water, sweetie.”

“Lo arruiné todo… Escúchame, no puedo decirte! Lo quiero, pero quiero… no quiero esto. No puedo otra vez. It happens to me every time… ¿Por qué, Dios?”

She sent a weak hand brushing my cheek, and I placed a kiss on her forehead—a now almost habitual caring gesture.

“Misa, I don’t understand you, I’m sorry. There’s something you don’t want, right? And what’s happening to you every time?” I asked, realizing she was trying to tell me something.

“Esto. Not like this, not again. But it’s too late. Ay… estoy mareando…”

She let go of me, grasping her head, and continued mumbling in Spanish, saying words I didn’t understand.

Confused, I stepped out of the room and nearly bumped into Hayley, who suddenly looked completely sober.

“I told Sofie Misa’s not feeling well. Hey, Nicky, um…” she hesitated. “You should know Misa’s blaming herself for getting you two caught by Sofie tonight… among other things.”

“Oh… she does? Among other things?” I asked. “Did she tell you what?”

Hayley shifted uncomfortably but spoke in a reassuring tone. “Just talk to her… but later, when she feels better.”

She left me more confused than ever. I knew Misa often blamed herself when it came to football, but what did that have to do with me? Yes, she could have avoided kissing me next to a room full of people. And drinking like a fish. Maybe I did look really annoyed…

I returned to the bedroom with a glass of water. Sofie was already there, speaking softly to the goalkeeper. I sat on the bed and handed the glass to Misa, who slowly sat up and drank. She still looked awful.

When she was done, I invited her to rest her head on my lap. I wanted her to know I didn’t hold anything against her, not about Sofie knowing, not about anything. The goalkeeper relaxed a little, closing her eyes.

I met Sofie’s gaze, clearly bubbling with excitement and tenderness. My cheeks burned.

“She really drank way too much,” I said, looking back down at the dizzy brunette.

“I’ve never seen her drink like that. Not even after a big win. Misa’s usually pretty serious about it.”

Misa furrowed her brows and slurred, “I… serious…”

I patted her hair, amused. “I’m gonna take us back to my place soon, okay?”

“Hum… Nicky’s flat es muy bonito.”

Sofie laughed. “Vale, Misa. You mean Nicky es bonita?”

“Sofie!” I protested.

“Shhh, cállate, Nicky…” Misa muttered, then paused, like she was gathering her thoughts. “Por cierto, Nicky es bonita.”

Sofie let out a triumphant yell, while I gasped, flattered and embarrassed, feeling my face grow hot again.

Misa rolled onto her side and nuzzled into my stomach. “Nicky es mi secreto,” she murmured.

I bit my tongue, touched. My feelings for her overwhelmed me once again. 

“That is so cute!” Sofie cooed before going serious. “Don’t worry, I’ll take this secret to the grave, girls.”

***

“Please, Nicky, don’t escucha!” Misa pleaded, rushing to the bathroom.

“I’m putting some music on, don’t worry!”

Choosing a particularly groovy song, I turned on the speaker of my phone, but it barely covered the sound of Misa emptying everything she drank at the party into my toilet.

The drive back home had only made her worse. The poor girl had felt nauseous, shivering like crazy despite the heat in my car. We had made it to my flat in extremis.

“Buah…” Misa emerged from the restroom, sweating and looking paler than I had ever seen her.

“Oh, honey… Come here,” I said, patting the empty seat on the sofa beside me.

She sat down slowly, one hand on her stomach.

“Here, more water,” I said, handing her a glass. “You’re dehydrated. Try to drink all of it. Are you feeling a bit better?”

The brunette managed to drink half the glass. Her cheeks were already regaining some color.

“I think so. My head’s still spinning, but at least I don’t feel like I’m going to puke on my own feet…” She gave me a guilty smile.

“That’s an improvement!” I laughed. “Look, I don’t want to be a bad influence or anything, but I think I should give you a cookie.”

Misa’s eyes lit up. “One of your chunky chocolate chip cookies?”

“Los mismos.”

I got up and went to the kitchen, rummaging through a cupboard filled with various cookie boxes. When I returned with two large biscuits in hand, Misa beamed.

She took one between her fingers, staring at it in adoration before taking a bite.

“Humm, madre mía!” she groaned, chewing a mouthful of cookie.

I smiled tenderly. She looked so cute, eating as if it was the best thing in the world. She devoured the biscuits in just a few bites before letting out a yawn. A crumb had stuck to her chin, and I leaned in to wipe it away.

A guilty smile stretched across her lips as she lifted her brown gaze to mine. Even in her current state, she had a way of looking at me that I could never get used to… I bit my lips, tempted to tell her how I felt, but I changed my mind. This wasn’t the right moment. 

“Come on, lie down.”

I placed a pillow on my lap, and Misa settled her head onto it. Her tall body curled up to fit the small couch, and she closed her eyes, drifting off as I gently brushed my fingers through her bleached hair. I was relieved she was feeling better, glad I could be there to take care of her.

A sense of pride filled me when she began snoring softly. She had fallen asleep instantly, soothed by my touch.

This would be our first night together without sex.

And to my surprise, I realized it wasn’t even a disappointment. Taking care of her made me happy. Serene.

My confusion was gone.

Misa and I were no longer just fuck buddies, if we ever were.

We were, at the very least, lovers.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ 

[iovestuck]

twenty ☆ 양정원

staring. idol!yang jungwon & female!oc

wc. 1.9k | genres. hurt/comfort, romance, soft, established relationship, etc. | warnings. attempt sxicxde, attempt self-harm, overwhelmed oc, moving out, being 20/an adult, etc.

iovestuck's notes: Welcome to my account! This is my first one-shot in this account! I hope you enjoy it, as I enjoy writing this one shot! I apologize if it's a bit rushed. I wrote this one-shot for a couple of hours a day. Feel free to listen to 20 by BOYNEXTDOOR, as that song fits with the one-shot a bit. I wrote this story while listening to it.

masterlist.

Being 20 years old has changed many lives. People go out partying, drinking all day, having a blast, and such. Soon, you will turn 21, then 22, and so on. People think it is a good thing. It means they are going to be adults and leaving their parents' house. Having their own responsibilities, a place to call home, and their own job.

But to a female who just turned 20 years old. It is overwhelming. She felt sick and tired just thinking about it. She hates how she has more responsibilities than she already has. It does feel good, but she was overwhelmed by it. She felt so empty and lonely. She couldn't relax. She already felt tired of being 20.

Her mind was over the place the last couple of days before her 20th birthday. She was moving out of her parent's house and moving to an apartment all by herself. She soon started her third year of university as a graphic design major. Her projects already overwhelmed her even though classes haven't started yet.

Her boyfriend was busy with his own job. His own career. A career he always dreamed of. He doesn't have a lot of time to visit her, but always makes time to video call her. She really wanted her boyfriend to be next to her. She needs him. But she knew it was selfish of her to want and need him. She knew he couldn't come even if he wished to.

It feels so lonely and empty in her own tiny world. A couple of days after her birthday, she thought about doing two things for the first time. She never thought about them. It wasn't like her at all. Usually, she would brush the thoughts aside, but for the first time during the night before her birthday. She took a pocket knife from her packed box and looked in the mirror. Her hands were slightly shaking while holding the knife. It was pretty close to her arm.

Before she could do it, she threw the knife into the shower and closed the shower door. She clasped onto the cold floor with tears in her eyes. Sobbing quietly before getting up and walking out of her bathroom. Shutting the door behind her and locking the door before she had second thoughts.

She thought it was best to take a walk to calm down and get out of the lonely apartment. She quickly grabbed her phone and a jacket before walking out. She put on her shoes and then walked out of the apartment complex. Walking along the streets, she took deep breaths. The breeze hit against her face. It wasn't too cold or too hot. It was just right, but more on the cold side. It was a nice summer night. Everyone was getting ready for bed since it was around 10 pm.

Walking down the streets, letting her legs take her to places. Letting her mind relax for once. She didn't realize she was at the Han River. She didn't realize she was at the bridge. Her heart skipped a beat just thinking about doing it. Her hands automatically reached for the railing. Tears falling down. All of her emotions got the best of her. The next minute, she was getting over the railing, but she stopped before she reached the other side.

Quickly backing away before running away. There wasn't anyone around her since they were down at Han River or somewhere. She quickly grabbed her phone and looked at the schedule of her boyfriend's career. He gave her the schedule for their weekly video calls.

She noticed he was in South Korea for a couple of days. Taking the chance, she took a taxi to her boyfriend's dorm since he would be there according to his schedule. The taxi pulled to the sidewalk not close to her boyfriend's apartment, but not too far. She quickly paid for the taxi before running to the dorm. Tears were falling as she reached the apartment. She looked up at the apartment building. Having second thoughts. It was selfish of her to come here when she shouldn't.

Without her knowing, her legs took her inside the building. She hesitantly put in the code to enter the building before walking inside. Walking to the elevator and to the apartment number where her boyfriend lived. She hesitantly rang the doorbell. “Myung? What are you doing here?” Jaeyun asked once he opened the door. She felt tears falling, but she held it in. “Er…sorry for coming without any notice,” she slightly stuttered.

Jaeyun shook his head. “It's not a problem. You are more than welcome to come here,” he reassured her. She smiled slightly. He noticed she was sweating a bit. He quickly stepped aside. “Come inside.” She nodded before entering the apartment. Looking around the apartment with her eyes as she stepped inside.

She remembered Jungwon told her in one of their weekly video calls about him moving to a new dorm. She remembered how excited he was and how he joked about not having to share rooms with Sunoo, Riki, and Sunghoon.

“Jungwon! Your girl is here!” Jaeyun announced. Within two seconds, her boyfriend came running from the living room. He saw his girlfriend. “Myung?” Myung looked at her boyfriend. Tears were slowly falling down as she stumbled to him. Giving him a hug and crying. Jungwon was shocked before quickly hugging her back.

“I'm going to leave both of you be. Do you want anything,” Jaeyun whispered to his ear. “Water would be nice.” His friend nodded before walking away. Myung was crying so hard. Jungwon gently patted her back. “Let's go to my room?” He asked gently to her ear. She could only nod before breaking the hug.

Jungwon gently took her hand. She looked down at the floor, letting him take the lead. Once they entered, he closed the door behind to give them some privacy and led her to the bed. Making her comfortable sitting on his bed before he turned on the lamp and sat down next to her. He gently pulled her closer to him and hugged her again. She cried again. He gently patted her back, not saying anything. “I feel overwhelmed,” She said.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked her as he gently smooths her back. “I—being 20 is overwhelming. Everything is just overwhelming. I have many projects to do before school. I moved into my apartment and had to unpack. I have to get a job to help pay my rent. I feel overwhelmed with everything, Jungwon.” Jungwon hummed in response as he listened to her. He felt his heartache.

“J—Jungwon, I—I almost committed suicide and almost cut myself for the first time,” she hesitantly told him. He slightly squeezed her. Feeling his heart ache even more. Hugging her even closer to him as he heard her crying in his arms. He wished he noticed sooner before any of this got worse. He wished he had enough time to spend time with her. Not by video call, but by going in person.

“Myung, I'm sorry you have to feel overwhelmed and alone. I'm sorry for not being there in person and helping you.” She shook her head on his chest. “It's okay, I understand. You are an idol and have the busiest schedule. Plus, the scandals, hate, discrimination, etc, you have to deal with on top of that. I understand.” Jungwon kissed the top of her head. “But I am here now and will never leave you.”

Her heart fluttered when he said those words. “I am sorry for being selfish to come here. You should be resting, not dealing with this, too.” Her voice cracked when she said the last sentence. Jungwon shook his head. “You aren't selfish or a burden. I would never think of you like that. Plus I am so happy you came here when you are feeling so vulnerable.”

Tears started to fall again. Jungwon hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head. “I love you so much. I felt like the luckiest girlfriend.” He smiled. “You are the luckiest girlfriend and I am the luckiest boyfriend, too.” He thought for a second before asking, “Do you want to maybe live here with us? I am sure Sunoo-hyung and Jake-hyung wouldn't mind. I can talk to the managers and the company about it.”

Myung thought for a minute before shaking her head. “I don't think the company and your manager would mind. I don't want to be a burden.” Jungwon smiled. “My managers love you as a daughter and the company, it wouldn't be hard to convince them.” She took a breath. “Alright, if they said yes then I will think about it.” He nodded. Suddenly a knock on the door was heard. “Come in,” he said.

The door slowly opened. “Sorry to disturb both of you, but here is the water.” Myung slowly broke the hug and looked at Jaeyun. She wiped her tears before giving a smile. “Thank you, Jake.”

Jaeyun smiled, “It's something at least I could do.” Jungwon stood up before walking to his friend. He politely took the item from his friend. He gave the cup to Myung. “Drink some water so you don't get dehydrated.” She nodded before drinking water. “Also, the others seem to be worried about Myung.”

“The others?” Jungwon asked. Jaeyun nodded. “All of them.” He nodded to his friend. “Alright.” His friend then closed the door giving them privacy again. Her boyfriend turned back to her. “Do you want to stay here?” She shook her. “I don't want to ruin your time with the others.” He shook his head before taking her hand into his. “You aren't a burden at all… at least eat some strawberry ice cream. You don't have to talk to anyone.”

“But—” before she could finish her sentence, Jungwon kissed her lips. “No buts. Let's go, hm?” She slowly nodded, letting him take her hand and lead her out of the room. She looked down at the floor before looking up. Noticing the others was looking at her. She felt embarrassed that she hid behind her boyfriend's back.

He felt his girlfriend close to his back and smiled. “Cute,” he muttered as he walked towards the others. Then making her sit on the couch where he was sitting before she came. Jaeyun, who was close to her, moved to make room for Jungwon. Myung slowly looked up from looking at her hands. “Hi,” she quietly said.

“Myung, how are you feeling?” Sunoo asked first. “I'm alright now. Better than hours ago at least,” she smiled. “We were going to order some fried chicken, but we heard you love Vietnamese food, so we are going to order Vietnamese food,” Jongseong said.

“Oh, you guys don't have to, I don't want to be in the way,” Myung said. Jongseong shook his head. “It's okay, Myung.” She nodded before hesitantly asking, “How do you guys know I love Vietnamese food? We haven't talked that much.”

“Jungwon has talked about you every day since you two dated. We have to listen to him simping over you, and we got to know about you from him,” Heeseung told her. “He is pretty annoying about it sometimes,” Riki chimed in, earning a playful slap on the shoulders from Sunoo. “He really does love you,” Sunoo smiled.

Myung smiled as she looked at her boyfriend who was focusing on making the perfect scopes of ice cream. “He really does.” Sunghoon turned around looking at Jungwon before smirking. “Hey lover boy, stop making the scopes so perfectly. I am sure, Myung wouldn't mind the scopes not being perfect!”

Jungwon glared at him, “Shut up, and let me focus.” Laugher was heard in the apartment as they waited for the delivery to arrive. Myung smiled. She is the luckiest person alive to have people like them in her life.

taglist: none

© 2024-2025 — all rights reserved to user iovestuck, please do not steal, plagiarise, or translate any of my works without prior permission from me !

[argyrocratie]

"Catastrophe for somebody, salvation for others. Desertion is flooding Ukraine" by assembly.org.ua

"Imagine: the rulers start a war, and no one goes to it!"

Donations to support the authors are possible at this link. Many thanks everyone for such a great contribution!

(...)

The article "In the long hot summer, Ukrainian and Russian soldiers broke records for the growth of desertions", which was published by us on the first day of autumn, turned out to be just in time. (It is available in Russian, in English, in Spanish, in Italian.) A number of feedbacks came from both sides of the front. From discussions in local chats of Kharkov:

"I have a small observation, several busified ones, who haven’t been very critical of the authorities all this time, now quite console themselves with the thought that those at the top know better. While you are "free", your thoughts are within the framework of social currents and have the opportunity to wag. As soon as you get into a collective with outlined tasks, in most cases, your thoughts are in the same tunnel as everyone else. A busified, getting into a collective of previously busified, but already resigned to the situation, mentally assimilates with them, accepts their point of view, creating a comfort zone (swimming against the current is always uncomfortable). There he’s drawn into the topic and also begins to think that everyone else is a scoundrel and an evader, motivation appears. Until he gets into slaughter. There comes awareness and often SOCh [desertion]."

-

"I have three – a godfather and two deceased acquaintances who went voluntarily from the first days, but when they came to Kharkov, we drank together, no one shouted that I’m an evader, but on the contrary, that there’s nothing to do there. One, a volunteer too, is already abroad. He went for 2 weeks and has been there for half a year already. He said that just to take a rest..."

-

"A guy worked nearby, and he had a dog. So he dressed it up in a camouflage vest, a yellow and blue leash. And he himself walked around with all sorts of patriotic bracelets and tridents on his backpack. On the way to work, he was accepted by the TCR and he went to training. Then I see after 2-3 months he is hobbling. I thought he was drunk, but everything turned out to be much more interesting. After training, they were taken in tarpaulin trucks somewhere to the front line. And right when unloading the personnel, they got hit with something cassette-like. So, he wasn't drunk, his legs were cut up by shrapnel, and they hadn't pulled out all the shrapnel from the body yet. They sent him home from the hospital to finish his treatment, but didn’t write him off due to his wounds. And the guy said during conversation that he f*cked all this, he was going to go into SZCh. That's how quickly his surge of patriotism passed."

On September 9, we received a letter from Gorlovka, controlled by the far-right "Donetsk People’s Republic" since 2014:

"The saddest thing is that if you start telling people that soldiers need to desert the army and turn their weapons against those in power, people will widen their eyes and say, "Do you want 1917 to happen again? For brother against brother again, and for people to swell with hunger? It's better if we endure, otherwise it will get worse." We have photos of those wanted for escape on our streets. And the inscriptions: "Betrayed the republic, betrayed comrades, betrayed himself." I’ve heard the opinion that we have a lot of SOCh. But "a lot of" is a flexible concept. And their captures aren’t published here."

We will not cite the name of the person who spoke out.

(...)

Alas, after the end of the Vietnam War, such a type of anti-war activist as a military serviceman engaged in agitation and propaganda among his colleagues was practically forgotten. This is exactly what a Russian leftist who introduces himself as Sergey Thälmann wrote to us about on September 2. In addition to other important inside information, his letter helps us understand why there was no widespread desertion among Russian conscripts in the Kursk region, despite the fact that this seems to be the most logical choice for those poorly prepared for battle:

"I’m a conscript, there was no distinct choice. I actively educate soldiers and explain the injustice of the conflict. Of course, I’m not very fond of anarchism, but I believe that there’s no way without anarchists. Anarchism is the heart of communism, and Marxism is its mind.

I’ll say right away that there’s a strange atmosphere among conscripts – for some reason everyone wants to see the war. And when you start explaining that war is not a shooter, not a computer game, their desire immediately disappears. However, there are even such young people who defend Russian capital. They speak in the paradigm of "friends – foes" about Ukrainians and Russians. This is truly frightening. Many sign the contract, but... Taking into account both material and superstructural values. That is, with the desire to see the war. Consumer society has washed away the human brain so much that 19-year-old guys in Balashikha [near Moscow, – Ed.] want to go to Kursk. And it seems to me that such an atmosphere is not only here.

Well, and interesting observations: many officers are outright Nazis. For example, I talked to the communications chief of the mortar division of the 4th regiment. And he told me that I need to read... German thinkers of the 1930s. And there are hundreds of such ones here. Although there are adequate people... On the faces of the mobilized you can see more fear, despair. I talked to so many mobics here – not a single one wanted to fight. Some worked in a plant, some as an electrician. But conscripts are the opposite. Maybe because many are from the provinces, where life is boring and there are few bright emotions. Or maybe because in a consumer society, the consumer can consume absolutely any product provided. Even war becomes a commodity for sale.

In the companies there is also such a concept – military-political information. There they say absolutely terrible things. About how Ukraine almost burns people alive, and almost exclusively hits peaceful cities, ignoring military objects. As if the AFU isn’t an army, but... some small bandit who shoots at everything in sight. The main thing is that they hush up how in Russia, too, they pack people and forcibly send to war.

What can we get here, two concentrated capitals clashed with each other. Their most loyal dogs came out of their kennels)) Ukrainian capital is just as chauvinistic and concentrated in the form of financial capital as Russian. No government can be defended, they are both criminal, both thieves. And war is a war of slave owners for the strengthening and reinforcement of slavery. To support one of the slave owners in it means to be against the oppressed, that is, against the slaves. Against the serfs. Against the proletarians.

By the way, to those who say that Ukraine is a victim. Supporting a young and inexperienced robber in a fight with an old and fat one is supporting robbery as such and further robbery of one of them."

...

[usmsgutterson]

Nothing Feels As Good As Going Home - S.R

Okay!! My ao3 did see this one first (I had edited it late last night and honestly?? I was too lazy to post it on both platforms because I edited it on ao3 and was too lazy to copy, paste, and then write an authors note lmao) and I'm pretty unsure about this as a whole because I'm only eight seasons in and I haven't written for Spencer before, but I'm conquering my fears tonight.

Despite my bio (which will be changed at least fifteen minutes after this has been posted--I have two accounts and I want to do some maintenance for this one because it needs a little TLC I fear) my requests are currently open!! They're wide open to Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan and Aaron Hotchner, even though I'd also likely be willing to write for another criminal minds character if you asked.

Fic type - this one is tooth rotting fluff because I couldn't resist

Warnings - spencer might be a tad ooc because this is the first time I've written for him. This is also set either in or around season eight as, when I wrote this, I was about halfway through that season and I'm currently close to 2/3rds of the way done with it. Cats are also in this one, if you aren't a cat person.

Spencer used to hate going home. He felt like he’d never really know what would be going on the minute he opened the front door and stepped inside, and after his father left, that fear intensified bit by bit.  

After his father left, he never knew what it would mean, going home, so he stalled. He’d go to a local park and sit on a bench and read a few books in an hour, maybe two, in order to escape the fear he felt at the idea of going home when he had no idea what would be going on in that house, whether his mother was okay that day or not.  

When he went to college and was living in the dorms, he hated going back because it meant more isolation. More loneliness, more of the same, really. Only his books to keep him company and just about nobody else, unless Ethan called, which he usually did two or three times a week. Ethans calls were one of the only things that really helped him when he wasn’t looking after his mother whenever he was on break, typically around the winter and during the summer.  

After having his mother institutionalised, he feared going home because it meant that she wasn’t there, and the guilt that came with having her taken into a facility when it wasn’t something she wanted weighed down on him very heavily.  

In those last two years pre-FBI, he hated going home because it meant more of the same. More loneliness, more of the same nature documentaries he'd seen a thousand times before if he wasn't putting on the news, and more books that he’d already read several times before haunting him from wherever it was that they sat on his bookshelves, which had been scattered throughout most rooms in his apartment.  

But he joined the FBI at twenty-one and managed to meet you somewhere along that year, found out that you’d just started working with the Marshals and had lived only twenty five minutes out from Arlington, which put you about fifteen from Quantico as a whole, and he started hating going home a lot less after you guys had been together for four months.  

After four months of dates and getting to know each other, getting home usually meant going on another date or Spencer finally getting the opportunity to call you and stay on the phone for longer than fifteen minutes.  

Spencer is very careful about your relationship, though—very secretive, though he doesn’t really mean to be, to avoid teasing from Derek and, four or so years down the line, Emily and JJ, though even Rossi joined in on occasion.

It’s not until he’s on the jet, Alex sitting to his left, JJ across him and Derek diagonally so, that he has to spill the beans.  

He gets a text from you and it’s the way that he smiles that gives it away.  

Hey, Spence! I cleaned up the house a little bit and went to grab your favourite coffee beans from the bodega we both like. Also: meet Megatron. Her name deceives.  

Attached is a photo of a kitten that can’t be more than four or five weeks old, dark brown everywhere except for her paws and chin, which are white.  

“Who’s the lucky one, boy genius?” Derek asks.  

“Huh?” Spencer looks up, eyes widened slightly. “It’s nobody.”  

JJs head tilts. “You wouldn’t smile like that for a nobody,” she says. “Who is it?”  

“Is it the one with the dark blue Prius--” Alex starts before she pauses, realizing where she's fumbled. That gets Rossi and Hotch interested, both of whom come to sit in the seats across from the four.  

Alex is the only one on the team who knows about you apart from Penelope, which is pure happenstance—his car had broken down once when both she and Spencer had worked a late night, and so you’d offered to pick him up from work so that the two of you could go back to the house you shared and indulge in a shark documentary and some pizza.  

“It is,” Spencer nods. “Their name is Y/N.”  

“How long have you had a Y/N?” Derek asks.  

“Since I was twenty-one,” Spencer admits. “About a decade now.”  

“You kept a romantic partner hidden for a decade ?” Derek asks. “How? Does--”  

“Penelope knows about them because they’re in the group she goes to on Tuesdays,” Spencer says. “The one for knitting and crocheting—Y/N does the latter, mostly, but they did knit the cardigan I was wearing last week.”  

“And how did Penelope figure out about the thing you two have had going on?”  

“It’s more than a thing , Derek,” Alex says. “If it’s been going for a decade, it’s more than a thing.”  

“We’d gotten done with a case early, and Penelope had left pretty much as soon as we were on the jet so that she could make it to the aforementioned group. I asked them where they were and picked them up with their favourite tea as a surprise. Penelope saw me there, watched us hug, and just about lost her mind. Have I satisfied your thirst for knowledge yet?”  

He turns to Alex briefly, nods a bit to answer her earlier remark. “I just proposed last weekend, so you’re right. It’s more than just a thing I would say.”  

Derek and JJs eyes widen until their shock is clearly conveyed, and Spencer laughs.  

“You have a fiancee, and you just—didn't think to fucking tell anybody?” Derek laughs. “Were you ever going to tell us?”  

“I was—we've been busy with work, and it didn’t occur to me.”  

“Okay,” JJ nods like she believes it, and that’s good enough for Spencer because he’s telling the truth anyway. “What was the text about?”  

Spencer shrugs, paraphrases.  

“They wrote me to tell me they’d cleaned up the house and picked up a stray, I think,” Spencer answers. “I mean, the stray part wasn't explicitly stated but—the kitten doesn’t look more than four weeks old, so the assumption was immediate, but they know I can’t say no to cats. They’ve been hoping that they’d find a stray while I was on a case since we first moved into a condo together. We bought our house six months ago now, and they’ve joked, every single time before I’ve left for a case, that it’s the perfect time.”  

“What’d they name it?” Rossi asks. “Assuming they didn’t ask for your input. I wouldn’t--I’d have a kitten named Einstein who could never live up to that.”  

Spencer can’t help the loving laugh that bubbles up from his throat as his fingers absently locate the chain around his neck, with an engagement ring of his own weighing the chain down just slightly so that the ring sits comfortably at the middle of his collarbone.  

“They named her Megatron,” he says nonchalantly. “Smallest cat I’ve ever seen, and still, she’s got big shoes to fill. Massive ones, actually.”  

That is enough to get Hotch to crack a smile. For a second, Spencer feels like he’s winning even though a game isn’t even being played.  

“Okay, so—how did you do it?” JJ asks. “I mean—ten years and a recent engagement? With only two people on our team discovering through that entire time? How?”  

“Penelope figured it out three years in,” Spencer answers. “Alex only figured it out recently, which is kind of surprising because I’ve never exactly hidden their existence. I just haven't talked about them because nobody has ever really asked but—I don’t know, either. We kept it low key because we both work law enforcement and it was just easier that way for the first little while, and then we both decided we liked the quiet so we kept things that way.”  

“They work in law enforcement?” Derek asks, his eyes narrowing. “Are they FBI?”  

“They’re a Deputy US Marshal, actually,” Spencer corrects. “They work in the Virginia office, which is 45 minutes outside of Quantico, up in Arlington. It’s why I have a twenty five minute commute—we both like our jobs a lot, and twenty-five minutes for me one way is only eighteen minutes for them the other, but I like driving so I don’t mind. They’re in talks for a promotion right now, and they were meant to hear about it today but so far their texts haven’t indicated anything about that.”  

It’s the most Spencer has told anyone except his mother about you since you’d gotten together, and while you both normally like to keep things quiet, bragging about you to the people he routinely trusts with his life is a very nice feeling.  

“US Marshal?” JJ asks. “They pretty commonly hire ex-military,” she says.  

“They’ve never been anywhere near the military,” Spencer laughs. “They did a two year degree at a community college, went to Glynco for training, and were employed by the US Marshals by twenty-one, around the same time I joined the FBI. We met each other at a coffee shop when they were off of work and their local one was closed, so our meeting was kismet.”  

Spencers phone buzzes again, and he ignores it that time. 

Alex grins at him, while Derek tuts and JJs eyes go to his phone as it buzzes once, then twice more, the fourth buzz coming four and a half seconds after the first, second, and third.  

“Check it,” she urges. “The jet is going to land in fifteen minutes, Spencer, so if it’s good news, you might as well.”  

SPENCER!! 

I have really really REALLY good news 

Please tell me your jet is landing soon or the very minute it’s landed call me please because you work twenty five minutes away and that means I can call and order from Antonios and by the time you’re home, you’ll only have to wait five minutes for pizza.  

Also, Megatrons full name is Megatron Ichabod Reid. Just so you know. I love you so much you stupid smart handsome tall man.  

Spencer doesn’t even try to fight his laugh as he reads.

“Good news?” Derek asks.  

“I think they got promoted, but I won’t know for sure til I’m home,” Spencer answers. “Also--Megatrons full name is apparently Megatron Ichabod Reid—their texts read like they’re hyper.”  

“I’d be pretty hyper if I got news of a promotion,” Rossi says. “Let us know if they did, though, kid. I’m hosting a dinner to celebrate your engagement regardless, but if they got promoted, it’s another thing to celebrate on the roster, and all the more of an excuse to meet the person you’ve kept hidden from the likes of us for a decade.”  

“You guys ordering Antonios?” Alex asks. “You mentioned getting Antonios for dinner the day after I saw you two together. I’m assuming it’s their favourite pizza spot—you don’t really seem like the pizza type. More like a pasta guy.”  

“We both love it,” Spencer answers. “There’s no pizza like Antonios—not where we live, anyway. It’s the middle ground between Quantico and Arlington, so there’s not a whole lot to do unless you drive either way.”  

“Antonios makes a good pizza,” Rossi nods.  

“Their pasta is better,” Hotch interjects. Spencer shakes his head, tries to go back to the book that’s sitting on the table in front of him but fails miserably, waits for the fifteen minutes til the jet lands to be done whilst the rest of the team talks amongst themselves.  

The second the jet lands, as he’s walking out of it, he dials your number and you pick up on the first ring.  

“Spencer Walter Reid, light of my life and giver of astoundingly lovely forehead kisses, please tell me you’ve landed,”  

Spencer laughs. “Just did,” he says. “The team knows about us now, by the way—I smiled when you texted and that lead to Derek questioning me, so there’s that. Also, if the good news is what I think it is, Rossi wants to hold a celebration dinner as an excuse to meet you. He fronted it with our engagement first, but I think he’s just shocked we’ve kept each other under wraps that long.”  

“You like Megatrons name?” You ask, giggling a bit, seemingly in spite of yourself. “I’m sorry, Spence—I'm hyper as hell, bouncing off the walls type. I’m going to open a bottle of wine, see if it calms me down a little. Get home as fast as you can, though! I miss your handsome face!”  

“Just gotta finish a file or two and then I’ll be home,” he says. “If you order the pizza now, I’ll only be like, five minutes late—the pizza won’t be scalding, like it usually is because of their ridiculously well-working warmer bags.”  

“I love you, Spence,” you say, tone turning a little serious. “Get home safe, please.”  

“I will,” Spencer nods. “You okay?”  

“Hyper but yearning,” you laugh. “I just miss you, ‘s all.”  

“I miss you too,” he says. “I’ll be home in forty minutes, tops. I promise.”  

The phone call ends, and he doesn’t miss the knowing smiles that are on Derek and Rossis faces. JJ is looking at him mildly confused as the tone of the conversation changed near it’s end, but he doesn’t want to explain, and so he chooses not to say anything.  

He goes back into the office, completes what remains of the files he has to work on, and after he submits the paperwork in to Hotch, he just about speed walks out of the office, toward the elevators.  

Derek is leaving at the same time as he is. “Goin’ home to Megatron and the singular person who’s managed to keep up with you for the past decade?” He asks teasingly as the doors close.    

“Yeah,” Spencer laughs. “I know you guys will tease me about it til the end of my time here, but—yeah. I get to go home to a stray cat the love of my life probably found in the parking lot of a Joanns, and the love of my life themself.”  

“I’m all done with my teasing, for now,” Derek says. “I’m just a little confused—why'd you keep them from us for this long?”  

“I don’t know,” Spencer admits. “When we’d first started dating, they’d just started out with the Marshals and they were scared having a partner in the FBI would get them special treatment, and then, when the stuff with Tobias Hankel happened and I got into Dialudid, I was scared that I’d make an enemy and then they’d find out about Y/N and use them to hurt me, and it just—we’re the quiet type, so we had reasons til we stopped needing them. I was going to tell you guys before we got engaged, but stuff has just kept happening so quickly in these past couple of years, and it’s kept slipping my mind.”  

Derek shrugs, but smiles understandingly. “I get it,” he says. “Lookin’ forward to that dinner Rossi is planning, though. I can’t wait to meet the singular person who probably would let you talk their ear off because they find you handsome or like your voice or something else that’s really sweet. You have a good night, Spence.”  

The elevator dings and the doors open, and the two leave separately. Spencer drives a little above the speed limit in the interest of getting home, which isn’t something he’d ever thought he’d do but is doing that night because it’s been a week since you’d last seen each other and he misses you like mad.  

When he inserts his key into the lock, unlocks the door and steps inside, he’s not filled with dread or fear or anxiety or loneliness or anything like that—instead, it feels like exactly what it’s supposed to.  

As he steps out of his shoes, hangs his bag on the coat rack and hears the sound of your laugh, he registers just how much the place he calls home feels like the word used to describe it.  

As he greets you with a hug and a few kisses to the forehead, it feels so much like home that it almost causes an ache in his chest. As you tell him about your promotion from Deputy to Chief Deputy and he hears Megatron the cat meow for the first time, happiness swells within him. Home, for the first time in his life, truly feels like a home. A place where he can unwind and be with those he truly loves, a place in which happiness is practically never-ending.  

Going home has never felt so good as going home to you, and Spencer is unsure anything will ever beat it.  

[wntrs0ldier]

An Offer · part 06

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 4,1k warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.)

<previous part | series masterlist

series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.

chapter sneak peek: You turned your head in that direction. Seeing him, you felt a knot in your stomach, and your heart in your mouth. A strong shudder ran through your body, sending that familiar electricity right to your fingertips. By avoiding him for so long, you had built a wall that was supposed to make you immune to the feelings he evoked in you. But all it took was one look to tear it down. 

As Bucky was coming towards you, you considered running away, but your body – craving his attention, longing for his presence – stuck in place, refusing to obey you.

A single buzz of the phone distracted you from the document you were reading through. Thrown out of the work rhythm that had been driving you for the past few hours, you instinctively ran your eyes over the desk, pretty much buried in papers, meanwhile figuring out that the phone was hidden somewhere underneath. So you started collecting all the documents, putting them in neat piles to eventually find it.

It felt good to be working like that again. Finally, after a few weeks since your father's death, filled with overwhelming responsibilities and things a little too heavy for your shoulders, your mind was in the right place; stable enough to catch up on paperwork.

You grabbed your phone and tapped the screen to check the latest notification, expecting a message from Suzie reminding you to buy her promised snacks on the way home. But it wasn’t your sister. You froze when the sender of the text turned out to be Bucky.

You still have my sweatshirt. I want it back.

You hoped he had let go after weeks of being ignored. Right at the start – on the very evening John showed up at your house – you wrote Bucky a succinct message saying that you couldn't see each other anymore. This was to be the definitive end; you didn't reply to his texts, didn't answer his calls. You realized that otherwise you would be drawn to him again, therefore throwing away your only chance for a marriage. 

The phone in your hands buzzed again.

I don’t want it back. I want to see you. 

An unpleasant warmth went through your body. You put the phone back on the desk, then stood up; mostly to stretch your bones, stiff from sitting, partly to fight the urge to speak to him. With the phone still in your hands, you could have undone the hard work of recent weeks – weaning yourself from the presence of the one person who had always been on your side.

You walked up to the window where, just a while ago, you were thinking about your life, your past; about who Bucky actually was to you, and why your paths never crossed. But they finally did – at the moment when you most needed guidance, understanding, a friend. And now you missed him. You missed Bucky endlessly since the last time you saw each other. You missed him the way you missed the first rays of bright, warm sunshine after a harsh winter; the way you missed the cool, refreshing rain during a stuffy summer; the way you missed a favorite flavor that you never recreated again; the way you missed the childhood years of innocent carefreeness. Because he was just that to you – some lost, longed-for sensation that was beyond your reach.

And all this for what? A successful marriage to John? A peaceful, secure future?

In fact, everything seemed perfect. John was good to you – he didn't drop distasteful hints, didn't ogle you, didn't put any pressure. He regularly took you to one fancy restaurant after another, and kept trying to find out as much as he could about you. He even turned up at the exhibition in your gallery. From the outside it seemed like he was there to support you, to keep you company. However, the truth was that John was controlling you; just as Michael said. What's more, he lavished you with gifts, usually expensive jewellery that was rarely to your taste. You weren't ungrateful, but you got the impression that John was only giving you what he himself wanted to see on you, not what actually suited you.

But there was something that worried Michael in particular. John had expressed a willingness to make a deal, in addition it looked like he was courting you full steam ahead, but he hadn't asked you to marry him yet. So, at any time, he could have simply backed out, leaving you in the lurch – he had you in the palm of his hand and was taking advantage of this by testing your loyalty and, somehow, obedience. Knowing that any contact with Bucky would cost you dearly, you couldn't afford even a moment's weakness.

Hearing a quiet knock on the door of your office, you felt another wave of that unpleasant warmth. You looked back hesitantly and were instantly relieved seeing the familiar face of your friend, Connie.

“Are you okay?” She furrowed. “You look… bad.”

You smiled, as if that would dissuade your friend from worrying. “Just a little tired.” You stretched sleepily to emphasize your words. 

“No wonder. You've been working a lot lately,” Connie pointed out, sitting down on a chair in front of her desk. “You're hard to get to.” She raised her eyebrows, tilting her head to the side as if she had just caught you at something. Connie was one of your closest friends, and although she wasn't directly connected to your world – unless it was through you – you mentioned your problem to her; one that had been dragging on since your father's funeral.

“And how's your new job?” To distract Connie, you slightly changed the subject. You walked over to the desk and took a seat too. 

“It is not that bad. If I get promoted from making coffee and washing cups to actual finances. But it's only an internship, so I might as well keep making coffee until the end.” She rolled her eyes and your smile widened; perhaps Connie was complaining about her duties and you sympathized that she had to do something she didn't like, but it was nice to hear about such mundane problems. You would have liked to be making coffee for bankers and financiers instead of having to marry to save your family from ruin. “Actually…” she began innocently. “I just have one tiny favor to ask you. I swear I came mostly to see if you were okay, but-”

“I know, Connie,” you interrupted. “What’s the favor?”

“Go out with me this weekend. Have some fun, stop thinking about work and… you know, the other thing.”

Turning down such proposals was not in your habit. Moreover, suffocated by visits to expensive, uptight restaurants, which left you hungry and a little bored, you missed this kind of entertainment. Besides, lately you've only been hanging around older men, who always had a full range of golden advice and ideal offers for you. You craved loud music, dancing among strangers and, above all, alcohol – it didn't have to be expensive, the kind John would provide; you just wanted it to take the weight off your thoughts, at least for a while. You needed a break.

“Okay,” you said after a moment of reflection. 

Connie's face lit up with a bright, excited grin. “Okay?” she made sure, and when you nodded in surrender, she reached over the desk, put her hands around your cheeks and placed a big kiss on your forehead, and you – put in a light, somewhat carefree mood by your friend – laughed. You both did.

The weekend arrived much slower as you waited for the fun you craved. You had completely absorbed the idea that you would be spending Saturday night at some club, and there was nothing to stop you doing so. Not even John. As you sat in Connie's flat, in your robe, sipping a margarita, waiting for the polish on your nails to dry, he called you with a proposition for another date. 

“Johnny…” Despite the heavy sigh that left your lips, you tried to make your voice sound as sweet as possible; even if you wanted to set any boundaries, John had the upper hand, so you couldn't behave audaciously – you couldn't be cold and assertive, you had to wrap him around your finger. “I can't see you. I would love to, but I've been neglecting my girlfriends lately. I need to spend some time with them.”

“But in a club?” he reluctantly repeated the information you gave him at the very beginning. “Maybe I could go with you?” 

You nearly choked on your drink. A red light flashed in your head; John Walker was about to enter a phase that would put an end to you going out on your own. And you couldn't let that happen. At least not until he had made his final decision in terms of marriage. You needed that wedding, and in order to achieve it you were prepared to do a lot, at the same time you couldn't let John trample you like that. He said himself that he had always wanted you – so he had to realize that he could easily lose you. You couldn't be the only one who was fearing about this 'relationship'.

“Johnny,” you echoed his name, but this time you almost said it between clenched teeth with a kind of determination and slight irritation. You plastered a smile on your face to sound at least a little softer. “You are really sweet. But I need time with my friends. It will be something like my bachelorette party.” The words you used were intentional; you wanted to give him the idea that he should finally make up his mind and officially ask you to marry him. It wasn't your dream, but you had to protect yourself; you had to stop letting him lead you around by the nose, taking advantage of your dates.

“You're right. But you have to promise me that we'll spend all Sunday together. Tomorrow you will be just for me and no one else.”

The dates with John were not a disaster largely because they usually lasted a few hours. Spending a whole day with him was different. And if you reacted this way to this prospect – with discouraged silence – what about spending the rest of your life with John? You've probably never seen it in this light before, and it suddenly made you sick.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you said hurriedly. “Yes, of course, we will spend the whole Sunday together.”

“Perfect. See you then?”

“See you then.”

You tossed your phone to the other end of the couch. Connie appeared in the living room, although technically she had been there the whole time due to the living room being connected to the kitchen. She looked at you with concern, put down the margarita pitcher she had brought, and sat beside you.

“He's not that bad,” you claimed. 

“Yeah, sure.”

You squinted, staring blankly at a random point in front of you. “But…”

Under the influence of margarita, you wanted to make some philosophical speech about how your end was near; how it was creeping up on you, crawling under your skin. You were sure of the end of your freedom, as future husbands tend to joke about, but you hated these jokes. Eventually you said nothing, occupying your head with ways to help you unwind; to somehow honor the potentially last opportunity for you to go out like this; without your controlling soon-to-be husband. 

Having shaken your head to get rid of some unnecessary thoughts, you glanced at Connie, smiling at her tenderly. “Would you be so kind and lend me the shortest dress you have?”

Although you weren't in the mood for men's company, the decision about the dress resulted in exactly what you thought it would. It was short enough that you didn't dare bend down, but its length and tightness actually played only a partial role in making you attract attention. You oozed a sort of mysterious, appealing aura of being open to innocent propositions you might have refused; eager for an adventure you might not have taken part in. Men followed you with their eyes, and it looked as if they were prepared to get burnt, to be rejected only if that meant they could get close to you, to exchange a few words, to have the opportunity to be noticed by you.

Perhaps it was the irritation, the cooling anger at John and the exhaustion of your living situation that made you attract people the way flame attracts moths? Perhaps your true nature – the one your mother tried to nip – has been bubbling to the surface through some small cracks, caused by your recent bending to the will imposed from everywhere? Or was it simply the result of a couple margaritas consumed before going out?

You didn't know, and you didn't particularly care. 

From the moment you arrived at the club – the kind of club you had in mind; with colorful but not aggressive lights, affordable alcohol and good music; on this night, hits from the early 2000s prevailed – you and Connie basically didn't leave the dance floor. Not including short breaks for drinks at the bar or going to the toilet. For the first time in a long time, you felt your age – carefree, almost irresponsible; you were having fun.

Time seemed to flow a little differently, so you didn't know exactly how much of it had passed, but Connie and you were starting to get sore feet. You knew that choosing some flat shoes would be a wise move, but high heels made your legs look even better than usual. There was no room for reason that night.

Connie disappeared somewhere, having promised earlier to get you some seats. You didn't want to return to the dance floor alone, besides, you needed to catch your breath. You ordered something exceptionally non-alcoholic at the bar – orange juice with ice – and decided to wait for your friend there. Resting your elbows on the slightly sticky counter, thereby trying to transfer your body weight from your sore legs, you sipped your juice. 

The bartender unexpectedly slipped you a pink drink in a wine glass. “From that guy.” She nodded to the other end of the counter. 

You turned your head in that direction. Seeing him, you felt a knot in your stomach, and your heart in your mouth. A strong shudder ran through your body, sending that familiar electricity right to your fingertips. By avoiding him for so long, you had built a wall that was supposed to make you immune to the feelings he evoked in you. But all it took was one look to tear it down. 

As Bucky was coming towards you, you considered running away, but your body – craving his attention, longing for his presence – stuck in place, refusing to obey you.

He stood next to you, his hand resting on the surface of the counter, his fingers almost reaching your elbow. You looked at his face; to your disadvantage, he was as beautiful as ever, his plump lips were wet, giving them the impression of being even more luscious; his eyes seemed fatigued as he watched you with calm and benevolence.

“Aren't you going to ask what I’m doing here?” He spoke, and from the way he articulated the words you were able to tell that he was a little drunk. “If I'm following you..?” 

“No, I'm not going to ask that. I’m not going to ask about anything, actually, because I shouldn't be talking to you at all.”

Bucky smiled, but there was not a bit of warmth in that smile. “So you're marrying him…” He nodded slowly, running his tongue over his teeth. “Did he tell you to stay away from me or what?” 

Closing your eyes, you let out a heavy sigh. “I want this marriage to work, Bucky.” You looked him straight in the eye. “And it won’t work with you there. I wish I could keep what we have, I wish I could keep you, I swear, but I can’t. I need you to understand that. Please.” 

At first he stared at you without a word, anger crept onto his face. “So that’s it? I lose you, you get your perfect little husband?”

You pursed your lips; no matter what, you didn’t expect to hear something like this from Bucky, yet you deserved it; you should’ve had a normal conversation with him. And now you were too tired, too defeated already, to fight. “Yeah, that’s it,” you said briefly. “Friendship isn't meant for us. Thanks for the drink,” you added, trying to take the least emotional approach possible, but in reality you could feel your heart breaking. 

Bucky looked like he was slowly being consumed by panic. But there was nothing you could do about it. You grabbed the glass filled with alcohol he'd bought for you and moved away from the bar. Anywhere, as long as it's far away from him.

By the kindness of one man (or, rather, innocent flirtation), Connie got the seats in the VIP box. The man shared it with a friend who introduced himself as Reggie, Ricky or Randy; you couldn't recall the correct version. You didn't focus on his name; nor did you pay particular attention to what he was saying. All you knew was that he called you pretty, and was buying you drinks, which you accepted cautiously.

Things stopped going as you had hoped. This was supposed to be your night without men, yet you were just letting one hit on you. You were supposed to have fun, yet you felt heartbroken by the situation with Bucky. Since when did everything start revolving around him? Since when did your mood depend on what was going on between the two of you? Did your first meeting unlock some mechanism that you were both doomed to, or did you just get so attached to him over the course of a couple weeks?

When Reggie/Ricky/Randy's hand resting on your thigh began to go higher and higher, your thoughts crashed against all these questions like rough waves. It didn't bother you, what he was doing. And since it didn't bother you, you decided not to spoil his fun. Your thoughts wandered so far and wide that you barely noticed the moment he kissed you. His hot, alcohol-breathing lips pressed onto yours, and you were basically indifferent to that too. Maybe not so indifferent, because you found something pleasurable in it; your relationship with John lacked the flame, the immediate desire. And Reggie/Ricky/Randy had that boyish charm mixed with the possessiveness of a grown man; a combination that appealed to you very much. Besides, your future wasn't in his hands, and not being at Reggie/Ricky/Randy's mercy turned you on even more.

And suddenly he was gone.

Reggie/Ricky/Randy ended up on the floor. You lifted up your eyes from the drunken man, unable to get up from the ground, and saw Bucky. Again. With clenched jaw and heavy breathing, he watched Reggie/Ricky/Randy laying between you. However, he was harmless enough to quickly lose Bucky's interest, so he grabbed your wrist and forced you to stand up, then follow him. 

“Bucky!” you groaned. You were afraid that Bucky was capable of dragging you behind him if the situation called for it. “You're walking too fast! I can’t walk that fast in these heels!” 

He stopped sharply and turned towards you; you could see how angry he was. You didn’t know when he positioned his hands at the right places on your body, so he could throw you over his shoulder. An amused giggle escaped your mouth, but you quickly remembered that you should be mad at him.

“Put me down!” You hit him somewhere under the shoulder blade and immediately felt the hardness of his muscles – you might as well have hit a stone. You massaged your sore hand right away, meanwhile coming to terms with the fact that he couldn't hear you over the thumping music anyway.

A sudden coolness and distant sounds indicated that you had left the club. Bucky put you down but still stayed close in case you would lose your balance.

“What the hell are you doing?” You abruptly pushed back his arm, which was meant to secure you.

“What I am doing?” he bit back, the anger not leaving his face. He seemed more sober than before, too. “What the hell are you doing to yourself, Y/N? Kissing some strange guy in front of fucking everyone? You think John is gonna love that, but us hanging out is too much for him? Do you want this marriage or not?”

“What's the difference what I want!” A dreadful sorrow and helplessness echoed in your voice that made Bucky perplexed. His lips parted slightly, then snapped shut, his eyes filled with concern and sympathy. Despite the fact that you had been yelling at each other outside the club for the past few minutes, these words rang out most emphatically, bringing you both back to reality. “Who cares, Buck?” you said more quietly. “I'm supposed to marry a guy I don't really know, and I try to like him, but the more time I spend with him, the harder it gets. I'm not even talking about love, not hoping for it to happen, because I know John Walker is not it. But it doesn't matter, I still have to have his children, otherwise everything I'm doing now goes out the window. And I'm doing it so that my sister doesn't have to. So that she and my mother don't have to worry about the future and money. I would do anything for them, but my mother won't even speak to me; she is mad at me for it.” You quickly wiped a hot tear from your cheek, completely missing the moment you started crying. “I know there are worse things than marrying a rich guy.” You rolled your eyes at the depiction of your problem. “But it still hurts. Maybe one day I'll get used to it, but right now I'm fucking scared. I’m all alone, I have no one to get my back, no one to hold my hand. I’m fucking scared-” 

“Y/N…” 

“No.” You didn't let him get a word in fear that – whatever he had to say – you would break even more. “Help me get through this less painfully and just… disappear. Leave me alone.”

Connie appeared beside you, but you only noticed it when her warm hand touched your bare shoulder.  You didn't hear what she was telling you; there was just ringing in your ears, and the sound of gushing blood in your head. Bucky didn't take his eyes off you; you'd never seen him so worried, so vulnerable and unsettled before. 

Connie stroked your hair, then put her arm around you, and you both began to walk ahead. The tenderness of her gestures revived you somewhat; you looked away from Bucky and fixed your eyes on the pavement. Eventually she pulled you into probably the only open diner in the area. There was still ringing in your ears, but you realized that you were to get something warm to drink and wait for a cab.

One of your first conscious thoughts shortly after waking up was that physically you felt far too good for a hangover. You were genuinely disappointed by this, as this kind of suffering would have been the perfect excuse not to spend the day with John. The perfect excuse for your nasty mood.

You sat up on the bed, your eyes automatically fell on the black sweatshirt slung over the chair by a vanity table. Returning it would have been the perfect opportunity to see him, but you had finished that stage in your life, and you were going to stick to it. You decided not to bother with how you planned to give Bucky back his property. Instead, you grabbed the sweatshirt off the chair and put it on.

When you went down to the kitchen, you met Michael there. He was sipping coffee – as you gathered from the smell lingering in the room – and focused on you as soon as you entered his sight. As you prepared your tea, you felt his attentive gaze on you.

“Where were you last night?”

You almost dropped the cup from your hands. That uncomfortable, paralyzing electricity ran through your body. The only reason Michael could have asked that particular question was because he knew – someone had told him about what you were doing; that you were making out with a man whose name you couldn't even remember. And if Michael knew, John was also going to get that information sooner or later.

“At a nightclub. With Connie. Do you remember Connie..?” You glanced over your shoulder and he only nodded. “Why do you ask?” you added casually, although in reality you were sure you were about to have a heart attack. 

“I thought you saw Bucky Barnes. That you convinced him to change his mind.”

Your forehead furrowed, your eyes widened. Trying to ignore the fact your heart skipped a beat, you turned to Michael. “What..?”

“He has made an offer.”

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰

taglist: @goldensunflowe-r @nefri-black @vickie5446 @learisa @sjsmith56 @aya-fay @hhiggs @wishingwell-2 @buckysgirl01 @emily-roberts @prettylittlepluviophile @leaaa008 @itvy5601 @melsunshine

[slashers-and-rats]

rivalry

afab!reader x billy lenz | plushophilia | nsfw

rat chat : wrote this as a warm up, thought y’all might like it. definitely an acquired taste. but if you wanna see billy get jealous of a stuffie and then fuck it, your prayers have been answered. i hope you enjoy!

billy didn’t know how he had gotten into a rivalry with stuffed animals of all things, but, to be fair, he didn’t know a lot of things. what he did know was that it all started with his animosity towards that one stupid, fluffy, sickly sweet pink thing.

truly, he blamed you. you had brought it home one day from a night out with your friends, excited to show off the prize you had won from a crane game at the arcade. you had to spend a bit of time explaining to him why it was such a feat, and at first, he was very proud. using a fake arm to get a treat out of a box? seemed difficult. he knew with his shaky fingers and twitchy muscles he would’ve wasted every penny trying to even brush against it. but you? you had grabbed one of the biggest stuffed animals there; it was a large, bubblegum coloured elephant, just over half the size of your torso. apparently it was a big deal for everyone involved. you boasted that the managers looked mighty angry when you pulled it from the slot of the machine, and you bragged that there was even a bit of dust on it from how long it had probably sat untouched. he just sat and listened, fiddling with the fluff of its fur (he was pretty sure elephants didn’t even have that), and watching the way you cradled it close to your chest.

the first night you had it home, you insisted on washing it. “i gotta make sure it’s clean, i don’t really know where it’s been,” you explained, placing it in the wash with care. he stood near you, watching closely. the laundry was something he took interest in. after all, that’s where the smell of your clothes came from, and he liked that. sometimes, when you would be gone at work, he’d sit in front of the dryer and wait for the little tune to play, and then pull out the warm clothes and lay in them, imagining it was you he was rolling around in. often times, it would end with him having to slip some of the clothes back into the hamper, having made them sticky with his “activities”.

billy had slept in his usual place that night. he nuzzled his way into your arms, and you wrapped around him tight, stroking his hair and letting him ramble as you drifted off. bedtime was his favourite part of the day. that’s when he got you all to himself, no interruptions. he was a selfish man; he didn’t like that you had to give other things attention. during these moments, when you were stuck to him, he’d take every chance he’d get to indulge himself in you. his hands would slide up and down your hips and the back of your thighs, and his fingers would dip under your shirt and press into that warm, soft flesh just above your butt. his lips always found somewhere to latch onto. drool would dribble out and down your skin, and you’d giggle every time he’d graze his teeth over the sensitive, tickly spots on your neck and collarbone. he’d tangle his legs in yours, making sure he was as close as possible. he didn’t care if it was summer, he couldn’t sleep without trying to merge your two bodies together like some funky little homunculi.

during this time, he’d usually be whispering all the things he had been thinking about that day. “m-missed you… missed my pretty girl… missed your body- missed you against me…” that soft, pathetic little tone would leak out between wet, sloppy sucks of your flesh, and you’d pat his head gently and reassure him that you missed him too. he knew you weren’t lying. he’d feel that heat between your legs, the kind that made you squeeze them tighter around him and press even closer to his thigh, and it would make his head spin. “piggy wants me? tell me. tell me my piggy wants me- tell me. i w-want it, tell me- billy wants to hear you squeeeaaaaal~” there was something about that uneven grin and big eyes that he’d stare up at you with that would melt you, and you two would end up staying up a bit later to have quality time together.

that was the routine. it was perfect. why did it have to change just because of some stupid elephant?

the next day, you had woken up early to go to work. you peeled off of him, and padded your way to the bathroom, careful to be quiet. billy would usually still be asleep, sprawled out in the sheets. he found that when he had a proper bed, and not just some dingy mattress and blankets in an attic, he was quite the squirmy sleeper. you once theorized it was because he finally had the space to actually be comfortable, but he didn’t really care why, he was just happy to not feel sore in his bones like he used to.

on the way back from the bathroom, you threw your stuffie into the dryer. you got dressed, kissed your messy man on the forehead, and left for your shift.

the day had been uneventful. billy had woken up an hour or so later, and did the routine you had showed him to do. he took a shower, rinsed his hair out, and made sure to wash in all the important spots. after the night before, he couldn’t help but lean his back against the cold tile of the shower, and let the warm water burn him up while he pressed his nose against your bottle of soap. he couldn’t help but inch his hand down around his shaft, feeling it ache at the smell of you. he had learned from past mistakes that holding the bottle against his face was enough. no licking, no tasting- just breathing in your scent and rubbing over himself was enough to make him spill down the drain in minutes. after that, he’d step out of the shower, wrap himself up in a towel, and brush his teeth in front of the mirror. this was something you insisted upon him doing. for a long time, his face was something he didn’t recognize. he’d stare at his own reflection, and wonder who that stranger was, and why they kept frowning at him. but now, after a year or so of normality (or, the closest he could get to it), the face he saw felt like more of an old friend than anything.

shower done, teeth brushed, he’d get dressed and make breakfast. after breakfast, it was getting his chores done, and after chores, he would sit in the garden in the backyard and look at all the bugs and odd weeds. he’d draw the ones he wanted you to see. he had learned quickly that bringing them into the house wasn’t something you were always super excited for, especially the bugs, but you always made sure to keep his drawings.

in the afternoon, you came home, and he ran to the door to greet you as he always did. he followed you around as you unpacked your things. he wouldn’t talk much, just listening to you as you set your work clothes aside, and talked about your day, and all the things you had to deal with. this time, as you went to the bedroom to change out of your uniform, you stopped by the dryer and pulled out that pink beast again. billy watched you cradle it close to your chest, and for just a moment, he felt a twinge of something in his stomach. at that moment, he couldn’t tell what it was, but hindsight made it very clear that it was the bubblings of jealousy.

you set it down on your bed, and began switching into your pyjamas. he sat down beside it, stealing glances at it while he watched you free yourself from the confines of your bra. he even pushed it over so it wouldn’t get a look. this was his, after all. he didn’t plan on sharing the show with anyone.

he had gotten better at keeping his hands to himself, at least while you were trying to get things done. but the second you bent over to pull your pants up, his hands shot out and grabbed at your thighs, pulling you back into his lap. you let out a small shriek, landing on top of him, and laughing. “hey, not in front of pinky!” you exclaimed, batting at the hands running up your shirt.

billy paused, tilting his head to the side. “p-pinky…?” his voice was light and raspy, curious, as he looked around the room.

“yeah, i thought it would be a cute name for our new friend,” you explained, patting the head of that abomination next to you. billy looked over, feeling that same bubbling from before rising again in his stomach. he glared at the elephant, before shoving it off the bed, and pushing you down onto the spot where it once was. you giggled, wriggling around as he climbed on top of you, sliding between your legs like he had many times before, and pressing his erection flush up against your warmth. his head dipped down, burying into your chest, and he took a deep breath. you burned up his senses. he let his tongue lull out, cooling the quickly heating flesh with his saliva. it felt like licking an element. he hoped it would leave a burn, so that you’d have to care for him, and stay with him, and pamper him.

your hands slid up his back, stopping so your palm could massage his shoulder blades, before continuing on to weave your fingers into his hair. he groaned softly, pulling his head up so he could glance at you. you were giving him that soft smile, the one that showed contentedness and comfort. it made him feel like melting wax, and he settled down against your body, resting his cheek against one of your breasts so he could listen to the gentle thump of your heart beat.

“you just wanna cuddle for a bit?” you asked, propping yourself up on an elbow. he nodded, his arms wrapping around your torso.

“warm… piggy feels warm and i-i wanna… wanna use you like a heater,” he grumbled. “b-burn billy.”

you hummed, twirling a strand around your finger. “i don’t think i can burn you with just my skin, unfortunately.”

“y-you can try.” his voice was deep and determined, and it brought back the fire that had been building in his stomach. he wiggled his way back up your body, boxing you in with his arms so he could press his weight down on top of you. he tried to cover you with as much of him as possible, wanting to mix with your own being and melt into you.

you two stayed like that for awhile; billy pressing his hips into you every once in awhile and rutting against you. you’d feel his erection prodding against your pussy through your underwear, and you’d push it up into him to provide him some extra relief. he’d take this willingly, and hump you like you were nothing more than a pillow. but you knew he didn’t see you as just an object. you were so much more.

after the fun, a shower was had and dinner was made, and the cool air of summer rolled in through the windows. you settled into bed with a book, and that pink thing was off the floor and on the pillow beside you. billy couldn’t keep his eyes off of it. it felt like it was looking right back at him, and he didn’t like it. he pulled his own pyjamas on, and climbed into bed.

“you ready to turn out the lights?” you asked, closing up the novel with a satisfying snap. he nodded, and as he wiggled under the blanket, and turned towards you to take up his usual place, he noticed you weren’t facing towards him.

this made him immediately worried. he leaned over you, investigating your change in position, and immediately found the culprit. that stupid, ugly thing was taking up his place in your arms. you were nuzzling your face against its head, squeezing it close to you. you looked comfortable, and while he was always happy to see you happy, he couldn’t help but frown.

“p-piggy?” he pushed you gently with his hand, and you wiggled a bit.

“mhm? you gonna come cuddle?” you purred, as if what you were doing wasn’t abnormal.

“b-billy… billy can’t, you’re not-“ he paused, trying to find the words, but they were getting clogged up with frustration. how dare that thing take his spot? it should’ve known its place. he almost had half the mind to rip it out of your hands and tear the stuffing out with his teeth.

“of course you can, what’re you talking about? just be big spoon tonight, silly.” you wiggled your butt a bit, as if inviting him to slide up against you. you couldn’t see it, but his brows were furrowing, and he was wringing his fingers out. somehow, it felt like he was losing. it seemed silly to feel that way. he knew it was just a stuffed animal, he knew it had no intention of taking his place, and yet…

he shook the thoughts from his head. he cozied up behind you, wrapping his arms as tightly around you as possible, and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

this position felt different. it felt… wrong. he couldn’t see you. he couldn’t kiss your face, or bite at your collarbone, or suck on that ticklish flesh on your throat. he couldn’t smother his face with your breasts. the way you had bunched yourself up against this doll made it so that he really couldn’t reach much of you at all. every time he went to dip his hands into your shirt and up towards your chest, he was met with the feeling of that plush stopping his passage, like a tunnel that had a cave in. what was even worse was that you didn’t see the problem. you just laid there, falling asleep quickly, without the usual before bedtime play.

billy couldn’t sleep, though. he stayed up for awhile, festering, and mumbling into the back of your neck. he knew it wouldn’t wake you, you had become quite used to his rants during the night, but he almost wished you would hear him. he was grumpy. how could something like that take his place? how could you let it? the only reassurance he had was that it wouldn’t last. it would just be tonight, and then by tomorrow you’d have lost interest, and it would be discarded to the pile of the other stuffed animals you decorated the room with.

but, obviously, that didn’t happen.

the next night rolled around, and he was met with your back again. and the night after. and the night after that. this continued for a week, with the disgust he felt towards that bubblegum catastrophe mounting. there were times where he almost told you, and confessed that he despised that eyesore, but he’d see the way you held it close, and smiled so sweetly when you slept with it, that he couldn’t bring himself to.

it all came to a head when one day, in the early morning, as you were getting ready for work and doing your usual routine, you walked over to the bed thinking billy was asleep. truthfully, he thought he was asleep too. he was in and out of a dream state, going between watching you through hooded eyes, to imagining all the fun you’d get up to later when you got home. you grabbed your phone off the bedside table, gave a quick kiss to billy’s forehead, and then… you gave one to the stuffed animal.

it nearly made billy jump out of bed. you hadn’t seen, turning around and walking out the door without a second thought, but his eyes had widened in what felt like betrayal. that was his kiss. that was his special treat, that was his promise that you would be home soon, that was his- you were his. he refused to share, even with some stuffed abomination.

he waited until he heard the front door close, and then sat up. before he knew it, he had wrapped his hand around the things neck, and held it out in front of him in inspection. it must’ve been playing mind tricks. how else had it made you fall in love with it so fast? it wasn’t that cute, it wasn’t that interesting- in billy’s opinion, it was quite hard to even look at. the bright colours made his eyes ache, and the stupid expression it wore looked shifty and untrustworthy. what did you see in this thing?

his fingers squeezed the fur of the plushie, his nails digging into it and against the fabric underneath. he didn’t like it. he didn’t want you to like it. he needed it gone. he needed it ruined. he needed to ruin it. this was revenge. it should’ve known better. today was the day he got rid of that thing.

billy did what he did best. he pushed the stuffed animal up into his face, opening his mouth wide and biting down hard on the fluffy “flesh” of the doll, before beginning to pull at it with his teeth. the fabric began to tear, releasing little hairs and fluff into his mouth. it made him sputter and spit, and he pulled away, wiping his tongue off on his arm. it was fighting back now? how dare it? he squeezed it again in his hands, bringing it up for another bite, sinking his teeth into the torso and ripping some of the seams undone. he listened to the sound, satisfied. it made him feel good, like he was succeeding over it somehow. sure it was inanimate, but it should’ve known better than to get in between him and his precious piggy.

the thought of you made his veins run warm. he couldn’t put the blame on you. this thing must’ve put you under a spell, you just needed to be released from it. you needed to be reminded that it was billy you wanted. billy was the best cuddle, he was the one you should hold and snuggle, and he was surely the only one you should be kissing.

as the thoughts of you swam through his head, he breathed in deep. his eyes widened a bit when he realized how much this thing smelled of you. part of him was immediately soothed. any reminder of you made him feel safe, and took away those pesky, buzzing thoughts. but, another, larger part of him felt enraged. how dare this thing steal your scent? how dare it flaunt the fact it’s been so close to you that it even smells like you? the audacity.

he pressed it closer, feeling a damp spot forming on part of the fabric. he was beginning to drool. he couldn’t help it. every time he thought of you, and thought of burying his face in you, and holding you, he salivated. if he could keep you on his tongue like a mint he would. he wanted to taste you. it had been days since you’d played with him. you’d say you were busy, or you’d have your nose in your new book, or you’d be curled up with this stuffie. he had gotten better about not prying, and not insisting that you let him use you- but, he was sure you must’ve noticed the way he pawed at your thighs and rutted himself against your ass. right…?

he pulled his face away, panting softly. he had nearly smothered himself. he wanted to suck all of your smell off of this thing. it didn’t deserve it. he deserved it.

he stared down at the plushie, this thing you adored so much. two large holes were now in its body, with stuffing spilling out. it looked almost gorey. he glanced towards the door of the bedroom, almost expecting you to come back in and chastise him, like some dog that ripped up the carpet. but you didn’t come. it was just him and this thing…

before billy even realized, he was peeling the comforter off of his body and yanking down his pyjamas pants. he sat up on his knees, pushing the stuffie down in front of him. he shifted from leg to leg, feeling something fluttering in his stomach. he shouldn’t be doing this. this was something you had been proud to bring home. this is something you had held so carefully. this is something that had taken his spot. as that thought flew by his head, the rest of his consciousness pushed aside to make way for his skewed logic. if this thing had the gaul to take his spot in your arms, it obviously didn’t know its place. it was just a dumb toy, and billy loved dumb toys.

billy reached his hand down, squeezing it around his shaft. he let out a soft breath through his nose, biting down on his bottom lip while he stroked himself to an erection. the knowledge that what he was doing was wrong only fuelled the ache in his cock. he could imagine your face when you’d seen what he’d done. you’d thank him for freeing you from the throes of whatever curse this thing had put on you. you’d throw it in the trash immediately, and hold billy again like he was your favourite doll. he was. he knew he was, this thing had just tricked you.

once he was hard, he pressed his dick up against the surface of the plushie. the fluff of the fur rubbed smoothly up against him. if he wasn’t so angry, he might’ve admitted that it felt nice. but, instead, he just glared down at the thing, squeezing his hands around its head. he began rutting his hips, pushing himself up and down the torso of the stuffie. he bit down hard on his lip, focused on his task of ruining this rival of his.

with every movement of his hips, he let out a small grunt of pleasure. that fluttering feeling had turned into a tornado. it tore up his stomach, and created such a satisfying ache in his balls. this felt so dirty. he felt like a stupid mutt tearing up its master’s slippers, but even then it was so much more than that. he was a gallant knight, protecting his princess from falling under an evil spell. this was chivalrous. he repeated this in his head while he humped the toy, reassuring himself that he was being considerate, not selfish. he was doing this for you. you needed to see how ugly this thing really was.

billy gasped, pulling away from the fur of the doll and looking down at the mess he’d made so far. there were small, sticky beads of precum caught within the fluff. he reached down, rubbing it into the fabric. he wrapped a hand around his cock, squeezing out another few beads of precum, before wiping it onto the beady eyes of the doll as well. he didn’t want it seeing him. it didn’t deserve to see what was rightfully yours, and the fact it even thought it could get away with it reminded billy of his goal.

he found the hole he had made in the torso, using his fingers to pull the rip apart. the doll had been tightly packed, the stuffing bursting out. he pressed his fingers into it, feeling how tight it was inside. he could make it work. this would teach it.

he held the stuffie up to his face, gathering all the saliva that had pooled in his mouth and spitting it into the open hole. he once again stuck his digits inside, making sure to spread the fluid around onto the nearby stuffing, before pushing it back down onto the bed. he lifted himself up, positioning the head of his dick right at the opening. for a moment, he hesitated. did he really want to destroy something of yours like this? did he really think this would make you happy, or was he doing it for himself? he shook the thoughts from his head. this thing was even beginning to play mind tricks on him, the bastard.

he pushed his cock into the tear. he breathed heavy out of his nose, feeling the tightness of the stuffing around him. it was wet, but not wet enough that it didn’t tickle him a little to move. it felt silly. he wondered what you’d think if you saw him like this. would you be disappointed? you’d walked in on him humping your pillow before. you had looked at him with a flame in your eyes, and that night you had made him ride it until he spilled all over himself, and then made him lick up the mess. he had to do the laundry after, as well, but that was a fine price to pay for the fun he had. maybe you’d do the same here. you’d be proud of him for taking initiative, and destroying such an ugly thing. maybe it was all a test. maybe you were watching him now, so happy that he was so loyal that he’d destroy something that even dared be near you, whether alive or not.

he groaned thinking about it. the idea of you peeking through the door, watching him defile this innocent little plush- he throbbed. he didn’t dare ruin his fantasy, keeping his eyes away from the bedroom door while he began thrusting into the doll. he used his hands to squeeze the torso around him, making it tight to his shaft. a moan slipped passed his lips, and his head fell forward so he could stare down at his enemy. he watched how with every push of his cock inside of it, stuffing fell out, further ruining this eyesore. precum leaked inside of it, making the inner fluff sticky and slick. it became easier and easier to move. soon, he barely remembered that this was some ugly plush elephant, and he was imagining it was you. he thought about the way you’d squirm under him, and squeeze your legs around his waist, and pull him deeper into you. you’d moan his name like it was a chant to god. he wasn’t much of a religious man, but he worshipped you like you were his creator. sometimes he thought that the only reason he was alive was to fuck you.

he let out another deep moan, shifting his weight so he could fuck harder into the plushie. it felt so warm, so soft… he was starting to shake. he trembled with the intensity of a nearing orgasm. he couldn’t believe he was going to cum from this. he felt dirty, but it felt so good.

he pulled himself out of the doll, wrapping his hand around his cock quickly and beginning to stroke. he didn’t want to grace this abomination with his cum inside of it. you wouldn’t see it then. he wanted you to see the mess he made, he wanted you to know how much he despised it.

with every pump of his hand, he moaned your name. this was for you. it was all for you. he reached down, quickly ripping an arm from the doll, and pushing it into his face. it smelled of you and him now. it made him shudder, and he breathed deep, before releasing thick, sticky ropes over the body and face of the plushie. he relaxed, his head lolling forward.

he admired his work. the stuffed animal was torn to pieces, with bits of fluff spilling out over the sheets, and a mess of cum drying into the fabric. he felt proud of himself. he stood up, leaving the remnants of the doll on the bed, before going to start his own daily routine.

he had nearly forgotten about it.

that was, until you got home, and he followed you around as he usually did. you had been talking about your boss, and how they were throwing your team a little party at the arcade for how well you all had been doing. as you walked into the bedroom to get changed into your comfy clothes, you saw the crime scene on the bed. billy stopped in his tracks, nearly turning around to run.

he watched you walk over to it, and run your hands over the fuzz, feeling the dried mess he had left. he didn’t expect you to laugh, looking back at him with a smile. “did you fuck pinky?” you asked, amazed. he shook his head at first, but then you raised an eyebrow, and it made him hesitate. “so, someone just broke in and fucked my stuffed animal? that’s what you’re saying?” he looked away from you, biting his lip. this was the moment he had been waiting for. why wasn’t he taking credit for his work…?

“i-i… maybe… b-billy couldn’t help it-“

you looked back at the stuffie and chuckled. “wow! i didn’t think you liked it THAT much. you really tore this thing up.”

billy’s eyes widened. “w-what?”

“well, you did a number on pinky. but don’t worry, i’ll get you a new one when i head back to the arcade. this time, it’ll be even bigger! and hopefully not so easy to tear up.” you picked up the remnants, and walked passed billy into the hallway, kissing him on the way out.

this was the beginning of a long running war. billy was sure that somehow, somewhere, that elephant knew it had won.