#i got lucky in that i managed to get direct flights for BOTH trips

[cinematicnomad]

purchased my tickets to accra and from lagos for my work trip at the end of march ✌️

[chaoticloving]

Hello! hope youre doing good!! I was wondering if you could write something about how Harry and Y/n just had to leave each other for work and Harry has an interview the next day and he's a little grumpy?? love SOH so much!!

Management

harry styles x reader (soh masterlist)

summary: harry wants to get back at one of his managers for what he said about his relationship with y/n, which makes for an interesting interview.

warnings: heavy allusions to sex, slut-shaming, and just lhh being the best protective bf ever

a/n: may have taken a bit further than grumpy…love lhh <3

The hotel was perfect: isolated, glamorous, and private. That’s why it was every celebrity’s dream. But to Y/n and Harry, it was their relationship’s paradise.

Y/n had a series of interviews lined up in Montreal and Harry just so happened to be able to fake sick long enough for the Montreal radio interview to be pushed back to an incredible two days. Two days was a lot for them, normally they’d have a phone call, a couple of hours, or even a day if lucky. But two days ment that they could spend the night together, and because One direction flew in on the red eye flight, they could get two.

When Harry checked in with the rest of the band, he went straight to his room, changed to pajamas and a sweatshirt with a hood, and left to room 2089, her room.

Harry got a little queezy on the trip up; his fear of heights combined with his lack of sleep and flying sickness didn’t make for a great combo. He just really needed some sleep.

He sprinted through the halls, knocked on the door, than yanked into the room by the only person he would want to yank him like that.

Y/n pushed him up against the closed door and kissed him. It was definitely messy—it was pass midnight and they’ve both been working, so who could blame them—but perfect for them.

“Darling I love your lips so much but I’m so tired I’m gonna need you to carry be to the bed.” Harry begged. “Need y’a to lift me up bridal style.”

“Mm, think you’ll have to carry me—“ Harry dropped his head so it was on her shoulder, grunting slightly. “—Or we can awkwardly waddle to the bed.”

They collapsed onto the bed, held in each others arms with sleep encompassing the couple right away. Harry was bear-hugging Y/n, practically turning into a blanket with the only goal of supplying her warmth. Y/n was happily hugging and subconsciously combing his long, unruly hair while they slept.

~

The work day started at 9 am. They haven’t seen each other much, but took comfort in the fact they could at least get mindnight to 9 together. Harry was receiving his goodbye kiss soon enough, though. It wasn’t a total loss; Harry got more kisses in the shower and showed Y/n exactly how much he missed her.

Harry was adjusting his pajama shorts as he was reluctantly pushed out of her room and raced to the elevator, making sure he didn’t give a surprise show to any of the guests in the hotel. He was alone in the elevator and ran into no one as he unlocked the door to him room.

He closed the door behind him and sighed, that is until he got spooked by some familiar faces.

“You could’ve let us know you got a booty call before we decided to have a 8am meeting, Styles.” Lenard, one of the many One Direction managers, yelled.

Among him was his mates, Niall, Liam, and Louis. All had their head down and a sorry look at Harry.

“I was only gone for a night.” Harry defended. “Still in the hotel-“

“I don’t want to hear your excuses, boy.” The grouchy man replied. “As punishment, you are on backups for the radio performance-”

“What?!”

“You heard me.” Lenard boomed. He turned to the other singers. “Take this as a warning boys. You’re all excused.” The other boys gave a sorry look to Harry, patting his shoulder, giving a nod, but they all could see was how pissed off Harry had become.

When the door shut, and it was just the two of them, Lenard got back on his bullshit again. “If your main concern is meeting with some girl willing to put herself out-“

“That’s unfair! You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Harry yelled back. “I am not just sleeping around, I just missed my girlfriend.”

“Oh right, your girlfriend Y/n, the one who sleeps to get roles” Lenard snickered.

“That is not true you asshole!”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself.” Lenard spoke. Lenard knew fully well who Y/n is, she was the reason Harry wasn’t willing to go into PR relationships with other celebrities. Harry was the most marketable members of One Direction, and Lenard wanted to make sure he could do the most so he could get a raise in his salary.

“You’re more than welcome to fuck around with some other girls. That Jenner one—“

“I already said no, Lenard!” Harry seethed. “I’m sick of all your controlling nagging! I’m singing and dancing my ass off and putting all my work into this and all you can do is complain that I miss one of your surprise meetings!”

Lenard didn’t know what to say, or quite frankly, didn’t care, so he ignored Harry. “You’ll be on closer watch. I will make sure to tell security to never let you out of their sight.”

“That’s unfair-“

“Quiet or you’ll be on backups the rest of tour.” Lenard threatened.

“You can’t do that! I’m half the show!” Harry fought back. “You know the show won’t be any good if I’m on backups.”

“Just clean yourself up and wear what you are suppose to. Downstairs in thirty.”

Lenard walked out, slamming the door behind him. Not letting Harry get a word in.

~

During the whole interview, Harry had on a fake smile. He was glad Y/n taught him how to make a fake smile look more believable, because all he could see was red.

Ever since Zayn left, One direction management had tighten its claws onto the remaining members. Wanting to make the boys sign a new contract, locking in the boys practically permanently. Y/n, like always, came in a clutch when she prevented Harry from signing and got Harry to get a lawyer that wasn’t connect to 1D, providing her own. With this new lawyer, Harry was able to prevent permanent control, letting him drop when he needed; which only caused more chaos in the group.

As sad as he was for his friend for leaving the band, he understood were Zayn came from. Privacy, independence, freedom, that’s all he wanted.

“Harry you’ve been quiet here today, what’s on your mind.” The interviewer asked.

An idea came to Harry: subtly piss off management. His fake smile turned into a smirk.

“I’m thinking about a shag a recently had.” Harry replied.

“A shag?”

“A shag.” He said bluntly. “Now I got this song idea in my head.”

“How interesting.” The interviewing commented, trying to find an interesting yet pg way to spin this, yet all Harry could focus on was the middle aged men in suits on the other side of glass, all glaring at Harry, roaring up to end this.

“Anyone in particular?”

“According to public opinion, I can only ever write songs about one girl, so everyone can go figure who I’d sleep with.”

One of the managers banged on the window. Everyone looked up as he made a wrapping up sign with his hand. Harry smiled, proud of himself.

“Well, that’s One Direction for you folks…”

~

“That bloody fucker—“

“Hey, hey, hey.” One of the other managers, an older rich guy by the name of Vincent—the most tolerable out of the bunch, calmed Lenard down.

“He just ruined that interview! We’re going to have a weeks worth of bad press!”

“I already contacted them and they agreed to cuts Harry’s part…”

The voices trailed off as Harry snuck out of the group and into an elevator at the hotel, he made eye contact with one of the members of security but the man, Paul, had a soft spot for young love and simply looked away.

Harry pressed button twenty and the doors quickly shut, the elevator starting its climb to the high floor. He raced to Y/n’s room as the doors opened and rapidly knocked on her door.

“It’s me!” He yelled, knowing a crazy fan would knock the same way he was.

The door swung open and Y/n was met with a sad tall man, so genuinely looked like he needed a hug.

“Harry?” She ushered him inside, locking the door and pulling him in for a hug. “What happened?”

“Management.” Harry sighed. “I got yelled at for not being in my room because apparently there was an impromptu meeting this morning. Then I kinda implied we were together to stick it to him during the interview and said i was writing a song about us having sex and now he’s pissed and I’m so so sorry.”

Y/n broke apart from Harry’s tight hug, pulling back to get a look at the man, once boy, that was apologizing for standing up for himself. She couldn’t believe it. Against Lenard too, which makes Harry’s actions much more valid.

She stroked his cheek, looking into his green eyes that had a tinge of red from tears of anger forming in his eyes. “Hey if it’s to stick it to that Lenard then I’ll release our sex tape if it mean he’d quit and leave us alone.” Y/n joked, causing Harry to let out a much needed sigh of laughter.

“He’d probably drop me after that.”

“Yeah but he’d be jealous.” Harry smiled again, looking at the love of his life. He hand traced her jaw, and thumb traced her lip.

Harry nodded agreeing with the plan, until his face quickly went sour. “But my mum would kill me—god.” Y/n giggled as Harry look deeply annoyed.

“I think it’s time.” Harry’s decided, taking a deep breath before he continued. “I think I’ll bring it up with the others.”

“Really?” Y/n asked.

“Yeah. Lenard has already threatened to make me back up and he said some stuff about you-“ He took a deep breath. “I think I could do better on my own, with my own team. People who don’t care if I sleep with you, or sing about sex.” Harry chuckled, leaning into the fantasy.

“Oh yeah? And how would this sex song go?”

“Hmm.” Harry thought, before singing a jingle of a tune. “I just want to taste it.”

“Haha. You’re funny.” She chided. “Remember to never let your dick do the writing here.”

“Maybe writing about sex is a bit too much. Even for me.” Harry thought. “He would make it way to rude for public radio.”

“He?”

“Yeah my dick, Ed.” Harry teased. “You want to meet him again?”

“Wait Ed like Edward, your middle name?”

“Yeah and Ward is the name of my bonus nipple—“

“I think it’s time for bed.” Y/n interrupted. “You need sleep.”

Harry nodded and followed her lead, stripping himself until he was left in his boxers and she was in her bra and panties. Sex definitely was not on the menu tonight, but they both were a sucker to intimacy and body warmth.

“I’m flying out tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t remind me.” Harry groaned.

“I was thinking, you come with me.” Y/n asked.

“You mean I should skip interviews tomorrow?”

“You have sick days you’re entitled to.” Y/n reminded him, booping his nose. “They can’t sue you for catching a cold. And you definitely look sick in my expert opinion.”

“I guess I’ll take your word for it.” Harry snuggled closer. “Where are we going then?”

“Plane goes to England. Maybe see your mum and then leave to Italy?”

“That sounds so perfect.” Harry sighed, knowing that honestly sounds amazing. “I love you.” He kissed her face, sprinkling them all over her face. “So much.”

“I already said I love you. Don’t make me regret that." Y/n said, sleep taking over her voice. “Goodnight Harry.”

“Night, love.”

[brahmsthirdracket]

jack, luke, their long-suffering father and a flying cow 🐮

Jim can only assume that the charter crew must spend the rest of their flight hours couriering coked-up musicians and weird, smelly tech bros around the country because they don’t bat an eyelid at the sight of his disheveled children.

They really do look ridiculous: Jack is sleepy and unshowered, with one arm immobilized in a sling and the other clutching an enormous cuddly brown cow that’s almost as big as he is; and Luke, who’d shown up in Colorado with a body fluid percentage of approximately sixty percent vodka sours, is shuffling along in two different shoes and his mother’s sunglasses.

In fairness to Luke, he’d been sent a ticket for a red-eye to Colorado at 10 p.m. the night before by his father. In fairness to the father in question, Luke’s twenty damn years old.

Luke had frowned when this had been imparted to him in the VIP lounge at Eagle County Regional Airport, the last few stars giving way to weak, early morning sun. Through the glass of the terminal they the dark mass of the mountains lighten into a brown scrub and patches of unmelted snow.

“Like,” he pauses, brow furrowed, and Jim can practically see the cogs turning slowly in his pickled little brain, like some kind of Smirnoff mill. “I’m twenty so I’m young enough to not be underage drinking, or I’m twenty so I’m old enough to be more resp- responsible?”

“Both!” Jim snarls, trying to lean around Jack and his cow, who are each taking up a seat.

The wind sweeps the grasses on the side of the runway in graceful arcs and rattles the chain link fence. Jack, who’s been subsisting almost exclusively on morphine and ice cream for the last few days, sways unsteadily on the first flimsy step.

“Give me the cow, honey,” Jim tells him from behind, already exasperated.

“No,” Jack grunts out, tightening his hold and hobbling up another step. He hasn’t let go since its surprise appearance at the hospital last night, accompanied by a truly obscene amount of Swiss chocolate. Jim perks up at the thought of the nougat, and he patiently shuffles up the steps behind his son, one step at a time and a palm resting securely on his back the whole way.

Just ahead of them, Luke manages to trip on the top step and is saved from concussing himself on the drinks cart by the ample chest of one of the stewardesses.

“I’m an elite athlete,” he tells her solemnly and walks straight into an overhead locker.

Jim breathes in for four, holds for four and out for four, just like he tells his players. Of course it doesn’t really work and he snaps his eyes open just in time to yank Luke by the scruff of his neck in the direction of a seat before anyone has to call a lawyer.

As requested, the cabin crew have reclined two of the leather chairs that face each other and made them up with sheets, pillows and soft, cream-coloured blankets. After a lifetime of cramped sleeper buses and cheap red-eyes, Jim doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to traveling like this.

Jack - who definitely has got used to traveling like this - toes off his sneakers carelessly and collapses down onto the bed, or as much as he can without putting any weight on one side of his body. The ridiculous cow takes up half the seat but at least it supports Jack’s back so they can wrangle him comfortably on his right side.

“Where did the damn thing come from anyway?” Jim asks again, to no-one in particular as the wheels clunk up into the belly of the plane.

Ellen just gives him her patent did-I-really-marry-someone-this-dense look and goes back to typing up a meds schedule for Luke to follow.

“It’s an alpine cow,” Luke says, completely nonsensically, and snickers.

Jim points a finger at him. “You’re lucky the seat belt sign is on buddy.”

He rummages until he finds the chocolate - Jack won’t mind, he can’t have it anyway because of his diet plan - probably. Luke eyes him hopefully from across the aisle but: “He’ll have a double espresso,” Jim tells the hostess.

Jim settles himself into his comfortable leather seat, breaks into a dark milk nougat and calls the only one of his children who could legally operate heavy machinery right now. Quinn’s rumpled and sleepy face appears after a couple of rings and Jim feels immediately calmer.

“Good game, kiddo,” he says, without preamble.

“Yeah, uh thanks,” says Quinn, shuffling around in the frame.

Jim flips the camera - without having to turn the whole phone around, thank you very much - so Quinn gets a view of Jack cuddled up with his ridiculous cow.

Quinn squints into the camera. “Oh, nice. It actually made it in time.”

“So you sent it?”

“What? No, obviously it was-”

But who it was Jim never gets to hear, because Luke starts suddenly making insistent mooing noises across the aisle. Jim covers the mouthpiece of the phone with one hand.

“Hit him for me, honey,” he calls to Ellen, who just gives Luke a gentle cuff around the back of the head without looking up from her iPad, then runs her fingers through his curls.

One of Jack’s feet is sticking out from under the blankets, still in the bright blue hospital-issue socks with the little no-slip stickers. Even fast asleep, and clearly exhausted, he’s clutching the cow. Oh well. At least he and Quinn have a whole damn house now to store all of their weird crap.

“Dad?”

“Sorry, bud - where were we?” Jim curls a hand around Jack’s foot and squeezes gently as he and Quinn get into the nitty-gritty. The crew will have seen worse than a flying cow. Probably.

[bishiglomper]

You know i was just thinking how useless i am and how I'm so dependant on my sister. We're all disabled in different ways and we cant take care of ourselves! 😫

Like I could make a simple appointment, it would be more likely to be done if i could do it via online or text but simple appointments sure.

But more complicated ones like trying to figure out how to get in touch with a specialist i dont really have direct access or information to, I'm not gonna be a big enough girl to manage that. Someone else needs to do the hunting. And i cant always feed myself. Like I'll literally just go without anything (food or situationwise) if i cant manage it and no ones around to ask.

I'm not comfortable doing anything by myself. Cant do public transportation. Can't drive. Cant do flippin anything on my own. Which is stupid, because it just anxiety. But I'll literally go deer-in-headlights frozen complete shutdown and just not do anything out of anxiety and indecision.

I took a bus once. I thought it would be okay because I'm usually comfortable doing simple flights. We stopped for a meal and the bus driver hunted me down and papa-beared at the counter because they passed over my order and i didnt know what to do. Man could have just told me to get back on the bus but he made sure i got food 😭. And that same trip there was a transfer and i don't remember what happened but that was almost a disaster too.

Oh. And the end of that ride could have been bad. I accidentally got the attention of a creep and I'm too polite and nonconfrontational to tell people to get lost. So i was lucky he left me alone besides making me listen to creep music. 😬 And the last flight i had in texas... If i hadnt been able to find several different people to help me with specific things, I wpuld have been so fucked. 😭

I wonder if that counts as like. Officially needing disabled help. 🥺 i just feel stupid. And i feel like if i told people I needed help for that they'd just tell me to grow up.

At one point (17-19ish) i knew something was wrong with me, but the assessment guy just said i was stupid and needed to be educated. 😐

Also all of this was triggered by the fact that i got a phone call today when i was sleeping. My sister discovered she could get free pullups for the nephew via medicaid because he has gut problems. So she put in a request for me.

For one thing, I use pads literally every fucking day. IBS is a nightmare. So is a fucked up menses. And mom has ibs and a prolapse issue. So i was gonna get some because we both use them and those things are expensive to use every day.

When they called they're like "is this for urinary or menstrual?"

"Oh, more menstrual"

"Sorry, we don't cover that. Bye"

It took me a few minutes before i was like ...FUCK. IT WASN'T OPTION 1 OR 3, IT WAS FOR OPTION #2. THEY MIGHT COVER THAT 😫

I told sissy my fuck up. I blamed it in the fact i was half asleep and they didnt even give me the right prompt.

She told me i should have told them i wasnt me and just sent for her. 😥 I'm bad at making phone calls but i at least try to answer calls like a big girl... 😓😓 Also i can't lie or omit to get things i need, that's another big fuckin problem. Huge problem in this godsdamn society.

So she's reaching out again with her number instead.. 🙃

[harrywritingsbyme]

Bored

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

A/N: He’s back bitchessss🤪…and he’s filthy as fuck! And I’m sorry this one is extra extra late with a crappy ending lol...Enjoy🙃

You were finally finally getting your weekend alone with Harry. After almost two weeks of him being away for business, you were finally getting to spend some quality time with him. And it was going to be without any interruption. Since your best friend was was spending a long weekend with her boyfriend, you were going to be able to spend a long weekend with yours. You were so excited to see Harry that you had everything planned out. For starters, you had your bag packed the night before he was due home. It had all of the essentials: a couple outfits for when you two weren’t in bed having sex, two of your skimpiest sets of lingerie that you weren’t going to miss given the fact that Harry had a habit of ripping your lingerie off of you, and some toys. He had few at his house but had the funner ones that you both could play with. Now along with getting your bag packed, you also made a visit to the waxing salon you went to from time to time. Even though Harry could literally care less about whether or not you had any hair down there, you still liked to give him a little treat from time to time. So as a little welcome home present, you endured thirty minuets of someone ripping those coarse hairs away so that you could be nice and smooth upon his arrival. And to make sure that you were ready to spread your legs for him as soon as he landed, you got this done a little over two days before so that you could let your pussy rest a bit because once you were with Harry, you were going to be begging for a break. You also made sure to be right at the airport to pick him up so that you two could get your weekend together started.

Now since his flight landed in the evening and you were positive that he’d be exhausted, you weren’t expecting to do much that night. Once you two arrived home, Harry wasted no time getting himself and his bag upstairs before ridding himself of his clothes and taking a nice hot shower. Again, you knew for a fact that he was exhausted from his flight and the trip itself so you decided to let him unwind and take his shower while you unpacked his bag and got everything nice and ready for him to have a good nights sleep. After spending a good half an hour in the steamy cabin, Harry finally exited the shower and came into the bedroom where you were waiting for him.

“I take it you had a good shower.” You point out, taking in his more relaxed disposition.

“It was so good.” He hums, striding over to where you were sitting on the bed. Once in front of you, his hands go straight to your shoulders and up your neck to the sides of your face where he tilts your head back a bit so that you’re looking up at him. He then lowers his head before bringing his lips to yours. Besides the pecks you gave him in the car when you picked him up from the airport, this was the first real kiss the two of you shared in almost two weeks. You missed the feeling of his warm pillow soft lips moving against yours. Even though you missed the sex, you missed being close to Harry. You knew that you could call him whenever you needed him and he’d always answer, but you weren’t close to him the way you were in this moment.

“I love you baby.” He mumbles lowly against your lips after slightly pulling away from you.

“I love you too.” You mumble back to him before lifting your head up a bit to reconnect your lips with his for one final kiss. “Now get in bed with me!” You whine, pulling him down towards the bed. 

“Have t’get dressed.” He laughs at your eagerness. 

“Who said you needed to wear clothes to bed?” You quickly reply, leaving him no other choice but to dry himself off and hop into bed with you. “Now it’s time for your goodnight kiss.” And with that, you moved your body so that you were between his legs and you used your mouth in the best way possible to send him right to sleep. Just because you weren’t expecting to do much didn’t mean you were expecting to do nothing at all. How could you not take up the opportunity to not only pleasure him but to also help him unwind?! Not to mention the fact that you hadn’t touched him in almost two weeks.

Now even though this was supposed to be a relaxing weekend for you and Harry to spend some quality time together, Harry still managed to get holed up in his office. And even though you were fully aware and understanding of the fact that his job could be demanding at times, you still couldn’t understand why they couldn’t let him have a little bit of an extended weekend since they did have him for a straight week and a half. The one thing you did know in this entire situation is that you had to get him away from the work and into you instead. And you knew just how to do it. You checked in on him the first time right after you woke up and realized that he wasn’t in bed with you. When you did, you gave him a ton of kisses and an incentives for stepping away from the desk but he wouldn’t budge. All you got out of that was a kiss to your lips, a promise to give it to you real good later on, and the task of getting him another cup of coffee. At this point, you realized that you were going to have to make him step away from the work.

 So after you deliver his cup of coffee, you make your way upstairs to put yourself together. After you get out of the shower, you throw on the perfect outfit (or lack there of to be completely honest) to get Harry to focus on you. Pulling from the bag you packed, you went for a cute little pastel thong that barely covered anything and was just there for the appeal, along with a tight fitting crop top that had “Daddy’s Girl” written across the chest. It was prefect. If this didn’t get Harry’s attention, you don’t know what what could. After doing a little once over and twirl in the mirror, you head back downstairs to try your hand once more at getting Harry to put the work to the side. Hopefully he got something done in the hour and a half you spent upstairs because you weren’t going anywhere without getting something from him. When you walk down the hallway leading to his office, you could hear him talking to someone on the phone but that doesn’t stop you from walking right into the doorway of his office. When you first walked in he could see you out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned around to fully face you, Harry was completely dumbfounded at your appearance. There was so much to take in! 

“Daddy I’m bored.” You huff loudly, causing Harry to scramble around behind his desk, hoping that his colleague didn’t hear you through the phone. 

“M‘ gonna have to call you back.” He says abruptly before hanging up the phone, keeping his eyes right on you the entire time. He then slides his phone onto the desk and pushes his chair out a little from the desk before wagging his finger in your direction, beckoning you to come over to him. 

In an instant, you’re following his nonverbal instruction and your making your way over to him. As you’re walking over, Harry takes you in. Aside from the lack of clothing, Harry couldn’t get enough of your body. He couldn’t get enough of your figure. Your hips were perfectly rounded and full and your chest was absolutely abundant with your breasts.  When you round the desk and step in front of him, you don’t even bother to stop and wait for a direction. You just go right in and you straddle Harry before sitting yourself right in his lap. Instead of saying anything right away, you decide to wait until you’re spoken to. That’s the least you could do since you already broke two of his rules. 

“You’re so lucky I could use a good fuck right now.” He sighs, finally breaking the silence while  continuing to look your body over your body. Now that you were sitting down, he could see the string like waistband of your panties digging into you fleshy hips, and he could see your pert nipples pushing right up against the thin material of your t-shirt. 

“What would happen if you weren’t daddy?” You “innocently” inquire, lifting yourself up a bit just to move yourself but higher up on his lap before plopping yourself back down onto him. 

“Well luckily for you, I’m always in need of a good fuck from this beautiful body of yours.” He begins, removing one of his hands from your fleshy hips up to your chest to latch onto one of your ample breast’s through the thin shirt you had on. “But when I do punish you, because all brats deserve punishments, I’m gonna make sure you learn your lesson.” He says simply, continuing to fondle your breast.

“What are you gonna do to me daddy?” You press on, beginning to move yourself back and forth right against his cock. 

“Now what’s the fun in me telling you my plans? All I’m gonna say is that unless our safe word falls from that pretty mouth of yours, m’gonna use you any way I want, and m’gonna do anything I want to you.” He explains. “How does that sound?”

“Sounds amazing.” You moan, continuing to push yourself back and forth against his now completely hard cock.

“I figured you’d like the idea of being my personal fuck toy.” He chuckles smartly as you bring your face down to kiss at his neck. “But I do have to say, even though you’re such a little brat, you definitely make up for it in being the perfect little slut f’me.” 

“Mhm, just for daddy.” You hum, keeping your mouth against his skin. As you continue kissing at his neck, you continue moving your hips against him as well. You also pull his hand that was squeezing at your hip down between your legs. 

“Does my little girl want daddy’s cock?” He asks “surprisedly” when he feels you pull his hand down to touch the puffy mound between your legs.

“Yes daddy.” You moan against him when you feel his fingers poking at you through your panties. 

“I guess I can let you have your way since I’ll be spending the better part of the day teaching you a lesson.” He rations, removing his hand from your breast and using it to grip onto your throat and pull your face from his neck before lifting you up and onto the desk in front of him. He then pushes his seat back some more so that he can stand up and tower above you. He quickly clears the space on the desk behind you before swiftly removing the tight shirt from your body and returning his hand to your throat, pushing you to lay back. Instead of wasting anymore time, Harry brings a hand down to your panties that were extremely close to just snapping and just rips them off your body, leaving you completely naked in front of him. His eyes travel all the way down, from your breasts to the area between your legs, each time taking a moment to touch and feel your soft body in his hands. When he makes it to the area between your legs though, Harry immediately crouches down to be at eye level with your cunt. “Oh sweetheart” He begins, taking in your bare cunt. “Look at you.” He admires, bringing his hand back there to feel how smooth and bare you were. The area was a sticky mess since there were not curly hairs for your arousal to cling onto. Even though he loved when you had your hair down there, he couldn’t get enough of how messy it got and how good it was to really feel the plump lips of your pussy in his mouth. He also liked to lick your arousal from your thighs. After staring and petting the smooth area, Harry finally brings his mouth to your cunt and goes straight into licking up and down your folds.

“Daddy! Feels so good!” You moan incoherently, feeling him eat into you like his life depended on it. Not only would he lick into you, he’d also suck on your swollen and oh so sensitive bud, and slightly sink his teeth into your thick pussy lips.

“Oh my- you are so delicious.” Harry moans from between your legs, savoring how amazing you taste. No matter how many times he licked into you, Harry would never get over how good you tasted on his tongue. “I could eat this pussy of yours for the rest of my life!” He exclaims, continuing to eat and marvel at your cunt. “You even look perfect too.” He says, pulling his head back to stare at your mound. “It just swallows up everything it touches. Your panties, my fingers, my tongue, my cock…” He continues on, taking in how pretty and puffy your pussy was for him. He always knew how meaty and utterly delicious your cunt was, but seeing it bare and as a result being able to get a better view of you made it even better. 

After a bit more oogling at your mound a bit longer, Harry finally goes back to eating you out. He uses his fingers and mouth to drive you wild, fucking you with two fingers while he either bites into your fleshy lips, sucks on your swollen little button, or licks into you. As he continues, you are gripping onto your supple breasts and letting out the biggest moans as Harry pushes you to a release. The way he was raving about your pussy and ravenously eating you was absolutely insane and it pushed you right into your release. Your moans echoed through the room as you let go all over Harry’s tongue to which he made sure to lick up every last drop before standing back up.

“Oh my goodness doll!” He coos, looking down at your now limp body below him. “You look like you’re even more of proper little slut for daddy now.” He admires, properly taking in how loopy you were now and your heaving naked body that was spread across his desk. “Wish there was a dildo in here for you to choke on but your panties will do I guess. I’ll just fuck your mouth myself later on.” He sighs, reaching  for the ripped panties he sat on the desk moments prior before pushing them past your parted lips and stuffing them into your mouth. He then pushes his pants down his legs to reveal his rock hard cock. Without wasting anymore time simply staring at you, Harry gives his shaft a couple tugs before guiding himself into you. “Fuck princess!” He loudly groans, finally feeling your walls engulfing his cock again. “Y’cunt always swallows m’cock perfectly.” He grunts as he watches himself disappear into you. 

While Harry was losing his mind from how good your cunt was, you were a whimpering and quivering mess. He’d made you cum less than five minuets ago and he was already pushing his cock inside to fuck you. Even though you loved feeling his big cock stretch your tight walls to fit, your pussy was incredibly sensitive from his mouth. So you could already knew that you’d not only be sensitive, you’d also be sore. Which was exactly what Harry wanted. Once he was balls deep inside of you, Harry immediately began pounding into you. His eyes were trained on your breasts that were bouncing freely on your chest with every thrust of his cock down into your quivering cunt. He could feel your walls squeezing him with every thrust and he could feel himself hitting the deepest part of you over and over again, slamming himself into the pit of your stomach with every thrust.

“That’s it babydoll.” He growls, releasing one of your hips from his hand to wrap it around your throat. “Take daddy’s cock all the way up into that little tummy of yours.” He continues, keeping his eyes locked on your glassy ones. “M’gonna cum in there too. Want you t’be completely filled up by daddy.” He pants, feeling his already bubbling release begin to intensify. “Feel you squeezin’ m’cock, wanna cum again for daddy?” He questions through a pant. Since he was practically pinning your head to the desk by means of his grip on your throat, you could only give him a faint nod yes and a whimper. “C’mon then baby, cum with daddy.” He grunts, continuing to send more sharp yet staggered thrusts into you as he starts to feel wave of his release begging to overtake him. From the way he was gripping onto your body and shoving his cock deep inside of you, you weren’t able to stop yourself from squirting all over his cock and going numb from the waist down. Your seismic release from earlier doubled in size and just crashed down onto you. The same with Harry, his release crashed down onto him, resulting in rope after rope of his cum pouring into you just like he promised. 

Even though it took a little while for you guys’ weekend to get started, neither of you would have it any other way. Just based off of this round alone, you and Harry immediately knew it was going to be a very long and pleasure filled weekend.

Masterlist

[sumsebien]

by design pt.1//Prince Friedrich

prologue // series masterlist

summary: the journey from london to sanssouci is long. what will y/n and friedrich do with all this free time?

word count: 3.4k

warnings: none

a/n: hello i am sorry for being so late with this one. the next ones will also be a little further apart than you’ve come to expect from my last series but i think this quality-wise will be improved (hopefully)

The carriage was spacious enough so that Friedrich could sit without bumping his knees against whoever sat in front of him. Right now, that was you. Heinrich was next to Friedrich, briefing him about the itinerary for the day. And Friedrich tried to pay attention. He really did but his eyes kept landing on you every couple of seconds. 

You sat quietly. Your face turned away from them as you gazed out of the windows. But then, he heard the faintest of sniffles. He turned to Heinrich. His valet stopped talking. 

And then, he heard it again. This time, Heinrich heard it as well, laying the map down in his lap. Their eyes directed towards you. 

You were crying. 

The two men gave each other a look. 

Friedrich hadn’t a clue what to do. He could not recall the last time he had had to comfort someone in distress. He figured it was because a Prince was not the most ideal person for people to confide in. 

Heinrich, on the other hand, had three little sisters. Therefore, he was way more knowledgeable. He nudged the Prince’s shoulder, tipping his head towards your figure and mouthed ‘Do something!’

Friedrich shrugged. ‘What?’

‘Just do something!’ 

The silent conversation and stern looks Heinrich threw him forced a few words out of his mouth. All of them formed without any forethought. “My lady, would you like a handkerchief?”

His voice startled you. You quickly wiped the back of your hand under your eyes and shook your head. “I’m alright. Just something in my eyes,” you said, a weak smile on your face. 

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, a little bit too quickly for someone who was actually telling the truth. “It’s just been a long day. That’s all.” 

You thought they didn’t notice or perhaps at the least would ignore it if they did. You obviously thought wrong. How you wish you could swing the window open and flap away. 

It was a completely normal thing that all girls must go through at one point. You should be thinking of yourself as lucky even. The ladies of the ton would happily die to be you right now, moving to Prussia with your husband, the Prince. That was what you kept telling yourself.

Tears began to prick at your eyes again as you thought about a life that was foreign in every sense of the word. 

Maybe life in London was not all that bad. Sure there was a certain face you had to keep up at all times but at least there was your best friend Olivia. You never thought you could ever miss the horrible balls and tea parties, the cruel gossip and the contemptuous looks. But as London disappeared behind you, the thought of never returning frightened you. 

You inhaled a shallow breath, afraid of alarming the Prince and his valet. They probably thought you weak and pitiful now. 

“Shall I get you a blanket? We still have quite the journey,” said the Prince. 

You shook your head, not even dreaming of requesting anything from him. “I will just admire the countryside for now. Don’t worry about me.”

You promised yourself that you would stay awake. One of the things your mother managed to say to you in the carriage ride to the abbey was to not fall asleep as “it might put your husband off” in her exact words. She always made it a point to tell you just how ungraceful you looked when you were sleeping. And perhaps you should take her advice. The last thing you would want is for your husband to find you ungraceful just after your wedding ceremony. 

Of course, not long after that, you fell asleep. 

When you woke up, everything was pitch black. The last thing you remembered was trying to keep your eyes open. But the repetitive sights and the quiet droning of the Prince’s valet made it too difficult to resist giving in to the heaviness weighing on your eyelids. 

As you blinked and regained your vision, you noticed that you were alone in the carriage. The blinds had been drawn on all windows. You felt yourself panic. Was something wrong? Where was everyone? 

As you began to think up millions of ways the trip could have gone wrong, the possibility of a raid came up.

You drew a shaky breath and moved. That was when you realized that you had someone’s coat covering you this whole time. You held it up to the little sliver of light peaking through the curtains and recognized the navy blue color. It was the Prince’s. 

Just as you were holding the coat, the door was opened. You nearly froze when you saw Heinrich on the other side. 

“Your Highness,” he bowed, “you’re awake.”

The title threw you in a bit of a loop in your drowsy state. It took you a moment longer to realize that he was referring to you. It was going to take a while to adjust. 

You masked the initial shock by clearing your throat. “Yes. What time is it?”

“It’s 9 pm, ma’am. Would you like to board the ship now?”

You nodded, picking up your skirt and making your way down the steps. He took the coat for you and held your hand to help you. 

“You should wear this, your Highness. It’s a little bit cold.” 

The night breeze sent goosebumps up your arms and you carefully draped his coat back on, now noticing the citrusy scent clinging onto it. You held onto the lapels of the coat and followed Heinrich. 

The sailing ship was anchored just by the dock, a couple of steps away from where the carriages stopped. It was an absolute beast with towering sails for wings, a strong body made of wood and a long pointy bow spirit as a fearsome horn. The sails flapped in the wind, wanting to stretch free of its frames and fly off into the night sky.

As you and Heinrich made your way up the stairs to the main deck, you could hear the commotion happening before you could see it. Thumping footsteps, shouts and grunts as the crew got ready to set sail. 

They did not care that you were here and you liked that. Being invisible was nice. Heinrich, however, did not enjoy it as much. He seemed a bit anxious to have you witness all of this and quickly led you away from all the noises down one flight of stairs. You could still hear heavy footsteps but they were muffled, less prominent than before now that you were one floor below. 

The air heavy with moisture and salt filled your lungs as you made your way down a lengthy and narrow hallway. Not too far away stood two ladies. Heinrich confirmed that it was in fact your room. 

“These are your lady’s maids-Lea and Ilse. Should you need anything, they shall help you.”The girls curtsied at the sight of you and each nodded at the mention of their names. 

You studied their faces, trying to cling to certain features so that you would not forget their names. Both of them had perfectly combed blonde hair, although instead of just a simple bun, Ilse’s hairdo was a little more intricate with the way she wrapped her hair. Lea was a little taller and seemed a little tougher than Ilse with her strong eyebrows and tall gait. Ilse, on the other hand, was bright-eyed and more youthful, reminding you of Olivia. 

“Thank you, Heinrich.”

He nodded and bowed his head. But before he could walk away, you called him, prompting him to spin around again. 

“May I ask where the Prince is?”

“His Royal Highness is speaking to the captain of the ship, ma’am. Should you like me to call for him?”

You shook your head firmly. “No, thank you.”

When he was out of sight, you suddenly remembered you were still wearing the Prince’s coat. But he had gone too far for you to call him back again now. 

You sighed quietly, turning to face the door. Reaching out your hand, you were just about grab the doorknob but found that Lea was already there too. 

“Oh, I’m sorry!” you held your hands up to your chest, allowing her to open the door. 

“It’s alright, your Highness,” she said with a smile. 

You took a moment to admire the room before you. Almost everything was made from walnut wood-the walls, the floors, the furniture, covering the whole room in a rich chocolate brown color. The candles washed the room in a soft orange glow, accentuating the warm earthy tones and setting a completely different mood from the shivering wet deck. 

You wandered inside, running your hand along the wall panels, delighting in the little crevices on the surface. 

“I hope you don’t mind. We’ve drawn you a bath, your Highness,” Ilse said. 

You shook your head. “No, of course not. Thank you.”

“Would you like us to assist you with your dress, ma’am?”

You shook your head. “I shall be quite fine. You can take your break now, ladies.” 

You expected the two of them to leave right away. After all, it had been a very lengthy day and even though you intended on getting to know the both of them, now was simply not the time for sharing childhood tales. But they lingered on by the door, prompting a “Yes?” from you. 

“Would you like supper brought to you, ma’am?” Lea asked. 

“I can do that?”

Both of them nodded, probably finding you the oddest lady they had ever served. 

“Well, if it is not too much trouble, I’d love it.” 

The girls curtsied and left the room. 

Now completely alone, you let out a long, tired sigh. It was a terrible habit of yours and you were well aware. You always thought too much whenever amd wherever you could, especially when you were left on your own. Your mind instantly ran over every little detail, picking out anything that might have left a bad impression on your new husband and staff members. 

There were simply too many. 

With a sigh, you shrugged the coat off of your shoulders, carefully placing it on the bed. If you must admit, you missed the comforting weight of it on your shoulders and the faint smell of orange and cinnamon. You then thought of him. The Prince. 

For reasons unknown, you felt intimidated by him. So far he had been nothing but kind and he had done nothing that could warrant such a feeling. 

Something inside you just wished you would not disappoint him like you did your parents. It was difficult because you had no idea what his expectations were of you. All you knew was that Miss Bridgerton was who he really wanted. And if that was the goal, you found yourself far from ever reaching it. You might have been born into a higher born family but you lacked the charm that she had. She was always the older ladies’ favorite when they were small. Even now, she had the favor of everyone she met. 

You prepared different conversational topics for when he would come into the room eventually. There was nothing less attractive than a tone-deaf lady and you made sure political icebreakers were left far far away for the night. Maybe you could talk about the weather or music. They seemed to be perfectly proper matters of discussion for a lady. Far better than overly formal issues currently happening.

The bath you took wasn’t as relaxing as you had hoped for. Not even the slight sear of the water and the faint lavender scent could rid your mind of thoughts. You decided not to sit for long, your legs growing a bit restless in the water. Just as you finished tying your dress robes, you heard a knock and a voice from behind the door. 

“Your Highness! We’ve brought you supper!” 

“Yes. Come in!” you called. 

At the sound of approval, your maids brought in a tray with silver dish covers on top. They opened the covers for you, revealing a piece of steaming roasted salmon and pudding. You then realized that you were starving. The piece of bread you managed to shove into your mouth earlier today was definitely long gone. 

“Would you like some wine, your Highness?” Lea asked. 

You shook your head. All you wanted was to sit down and eat everything. And as helpful as they had been, their questions at this moment was not. “No thank you. This shall be perfect.”

“Should we bring you more food?” Ilse added. 

“No. I am happy with this. Thank you.” 

They finally left. But you had barely sit down when there came another knock on the door. You groaned to yourself. Again? 

“What?” you poked your head out, expecting your maids and more questions. But the last time you saw them they didn’t wear blue and there were certainly two of them. 

Oh crap. 

 It was the Prince of Prussia. 

Blush crept onto your cheeks as you became aware of your curtness. “Your Highness!” 

He had his brows raised at the curious sight of you poking only your head out, leaning against the door rather inelegantly. He stepped away almost immediately. “Oh, am I interrupting you? I apologize-“ 

“No! I apologize, your Highness. Would-would you like to come in?” You stood up straight, opening the door a little wider. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest, wishing to break free from your ribcage.

He shook his head. “I am just here to ask you if everything was alright.” 

He didn’t want to come in?

“I am alright. Thank you for asking, your Highness.”

He cleared his voice. “Good. Well, it’s been a long day for you. You should get some rest. There will be a lot more traveling for tomorrow.” 

“Oh thank you. So should you. Oh-and before I forget.”

You disappeared into the room. In the meantime, Friedrich managed to catch a quick glimpse of your room. He had assigned the largest one to you, his was half the size. But it did not matter where he was. After all, he wanted the best for his bride, no matter who she was. 

You appeared again moments later, thanking him for lending the coat to you. He held his coat in the crook of his elbow. “Good night.”

You leaned against the door, your back landing on the surface with a dull thump. You were relieved that he didn’t come in because you were not ready at all. Yet, you could not help but feel the clouds of dread forming over you. Was he being thoughtful or did he want nothing to do with you? 

...

The next morning when Lea and Ilse came into the room, you could practically hear their thoughts. 

Lea was a bit better at hiding her surprise while Ilse had to look away, turning to the curtains for an escape. As they got you ready, they distracted you with their millions of questions about what you would like for your hair, your dress and your food. But what all three of you were thinking about was the reason why you were alone on your wedding night. 

“Do you know where the Prince is?” you asked, finally tired of dancing around the topic. 

Ilse gasped, no longer brushing your hair. “Your Highness, was he not here?” 

“Ilse, I mean no offense but you are a terrible liar.” 

Your comment made Lea choke back a laugh. Meanwhile, Ilse’s face grew bright red as she began to comb your hair again, laughing quietly. “I apologize, your Highness. I just cannot see why he wasn’t here with you. You’re beautiful!” 

“Well, I don’t think he likes me very much.”  

“I don’t think that is the case, your Highness. Maybe you just don’t know each other,” Lea added, putting on a diamond necklace for you. “You still have plenty of time for that until you arrive at the palace.” 

Perhaps she was right. But whether right or wrong, you felt some weight lifted off your shoulders. You felt that way with Olivia too, back in London. It gave us great comfort to know that at the very least you and your lady’s maids would get along perfectly fine.

“Will you two be with me then?” 

“Of course!” Ilse assured you, placing the comb down, happy with how your hair looked. “Right, Lea?”

“Yes and there will be another lady too. Your chief of staff.” 

You had finished getting ready but your appearance was the last thing on your mind right now. You turned in your chair, curious as to how the Prussian court worked. “Oh?” 

Ilse was more than glad to pass around the gossip. “Rumors have it that the King had someone in mind for you. But we left before he made the decision. I bet Heinrich knows.” 

...

It was definitely not a good time to ask questions. 

When you and your maids got off of the ship onto French soil by noon, there were new carriages that awaited you. Just as you were marveling at the beautiful paintings on the side of the carriages and the gold ornate trims on the wheels, your attention was quickly drawn to the people standing next to the largest carriage at the front. 

It was the Prince and Heinrich.

They were in quite a heated discussion when they noticed you looking and promptly paused their conversation. 

“Your Highness,” Heinrich bowed. 

You looked between the two of them, sensing the tension but did not dare ask for the reason. The Prince offered his hand and helped you into the carriage wordlessly. 

Outside of the window, Heinrich got on horse, charging away before your carriage even began to move. It was awfully curious. 

“Did you sleep well?”

You tore your eyes away from the window, deciding to focus on him instead. Inside of the carriage, the Prince was a completely different person than he was a mere second ago. He was sighing, his brows knitted, his hands waving about as he spoke to his valet about very important matters surely. But now, he had a friendly grin on his lips, his gaze soft as he engaged in small talk with you. 

“Yes. Thank you for asking, your Highness.”

That made him laugh. You did not know just what it was that he should be laughing about though. “You know, you do not have to call me that.”

“I-I don’t?”

He shook his head. “Call me Friedrich. We are husband and wife, after all.”

You nodded. “Well, then, please call me Y/N.”

“We have a deal.” 

Silence fell on the two of you after that. 

Friedrich looked out of the window, observing the French countryside in the distance, the sound of waves crashing ashore was mere memories now.

You had always been a little impatient in these awkward pauses, never quite sure what to do. You had been rehearsing for this moment in the bathroom yesterday. But perhaps going by a first-name basis gave you the boost of confidence you needed to be the one to break the silence, without the help of scripted conversations.

“Is Heinrich not joining us?” 

Friedrich shook his head. “He will meet us at the train station. There was just a little something that needed to be checked.” 

As soon as he said it, he regretted it. 

“Is there anything wrong?” 

“Just a mix-up with the train schedules. No need to worry though. We will just have to switch the rooms around a bit.”

That was a lie. And you’d find out the truth eventually when you got to the train station. Heinrich seemed pale as a ghost when he saw you and Friedrich emerge from the carriages, rushing towards the both of you. He did not seem to mind that you were there to listen, frantically speaking. “Your Highness, the state train is not coming.” 

“When did this happen?”

“I just checked. Apparently, they cancelled it from Potsdam.”

You had no idea what was happening but from the sigh leaving Friedrich’s lips you knew it was not good news at all. 

“So we’ll take the standard then?”

“I am afraid so, sir.”

It was exactly what he had feared. 

His father was mad and now that they were about to enter Prussia, there was no escaping his wrath. Friedrich did not mind, in particular. He was quite used to his father’s tantrums by now.  

Whenever his father lost, he would make sure no one could win. 

When Friedrich made the decision to marry you in England, he had prepared himself to face the King once they arrived at the Berlin Palace. He just felt bad for you having to get the wrong end of the stick because of him. 

“I apologize,” he said, “I am afraid there is no other way.” 

You waved your hand. “It is fine. I don’t think it is a big deal at all. I shall be good with anything.”

“Heinrich, see to it that you book her highness the room. I’ll sit where ever.”

You held up your hand. “Wait, excuse me?”

“There is only one room on the standard train, ma’am.” 

“I-I will sit with my maids. I can’t-”

Heinrich looked to the Prince who was looking at you, his lips parted. 

He shook his head furiously. “You are the Princess of Prussia. I will not allow you to sit in the back.” 

There was only one solution. 

Simple and straightforward to all of your current troubles. Friedrich did not want to suggest, he knew you were forced into this mess as much as he was. He was not going to make you do anything. And he was quite ready to sit with his staff, giving you your privacy when out of the blue...

“Then-then we’ll share the room.” 

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[darklightsworld]

Now that I’m frequenting tumblr once again, it’s time to make the post I wrote in June, but got lazy selecting photos for, so it never saw the sunlight ^^;;; This is part 1, with tiny update comments. I will try not to slack on part 2.

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

Long time no see, tumblr. It has been a busy year so far, and more than a half are gone already (well, 3/4 now). Yet, we’re still not over covid (Still!!!) >_> We’re having the biggest number of infections ever, but fortunately traveling is not restricted. Never mind that people are self-restraining even without being told from above. It’s really disappointing, I was hoping that Japan would gradually open up after they started to let in organized tourism (the economy really needs tourism, especially with the cheap yen, thus more expensive imports, rising prices), but I don’t see it happening any time soon :/ (Well, it just happened, yay! Covid had the seventh wave meanwhile, currently decreasing numbers, but far from over) I think I was really lucky to be able to travel to Europe in May-June, just before the new variant started to spread. Now I have a short trip booked to Sendai in September (summer is for surviving and not for traveling in Japan, after all), and I was asked to hold a speech in Kyoto in late October (and Nagoya in November) – I really hope it won’t be cancelled (they won’t 👍), I really want to go back, even if it’s a few days (accidentally I wrote years first, yeah, Freudian). Once again, because Tokyo is the most infected, traveling for research is out of question, which sucks… The National Diet Library really should make postwar magazines freely available. Like seriously, what do they expect to happen with 50-60 year old of magazines, that don’t happen with 80 year old ones?!

Anyway, I just wanted to share a few photos of my Europe trip. The catalyst was a symposium in Spain I was invited to, and taking the opportunity I also visited home before and after that. Traveling became damn expensive and difficult due to covid. I paid like 60 thousand more for the ticket. Sure, there might have been cheaper ones with long overlays, but I don’t like traveling too long, so I take a direct flight from Tokyo to Vienna if I can. Of course, due to the war the trips were longer than usual by 2-3 hours orz But, on the other hand, unlike European planes there weren’t many passengers, so lying across seats was possible (managed to get screaming kids on both flights though…>_>). In the end even to Spain, or more accurately to Galicia, there weren’t many options from Budapest, so that trip was also from Vienna, my dad driving the three hour trip from home back and forth a lot of times ^^;

Both Hungary and Galicia were extremely hot for that time of the year, but not before and after, so I felt like the heat was following me from Japan – and then back -_- Due to the trip to Galicia I didn’t spend that much time in Hungary, so rather than go sightseeing all the time I was trying to relax and eat food I can’t get here, like good cheese, túró rudi, paprika salad every day, etc. I really hoped to make a trip to the capital for the Bosch exhibition, but the timing was not right :((( By the way, being without a mask required some getting used to in the first few days, but it was sooooooo good. I really miss that now…

So, first batch of pics: Vienna. We spent two days in Vienna before the Galicia trip, because my plane took off at seven in the morning, and I was not willing to travel through the night to get there by five. It was really nice and an additional plus of traveling through Vienna. Once again we stepped into a holiday (in 2019 the National Day, now Ascension of Christ @_@), but it was not too bad. First (half) day were were just walking around in and around Hofburg. Karlskirche was new to me, very nice church, but the elevator inside the church messes up the view a lot. The main purpose this time was the Belvedere, also a first for me, and it was great. Many great exhibitions, old palace and history.

tbc...

[texanredrose]

Showing Off

Inspired by prompts submitted to @unsteadyshade on tumblr (here), that I reblogged earlier, or AO3 (here). Also, yes, I'm very much American but I decided to use the non-American lingo in regards to soccer here. Don't look at me expecting logic, my friends, I just do what the winds of whimsy tell me.

---

Blake pulled the hotel door shut behind her, following after her teammate and best friend who was further down the hall and carrying their tote bags. While she didn’t hold the same superstitious beliefs, Yang swore up and down they’d lose unless they brought along their ‘lucky’ practice ball; after going back to retrieve it, the woman seemed satisfied and started walking towards the elevator while Blake caught up. “This is ridiculous, you know that right?”

“Hey, don’t sass me; we’ve never lost a road game when we’ve had the ball,” Yang said, already wearing her keeper jersey, the material stretched a bit thin over her muscled frame. It had seen better days but, much like the ball, the woman refused to replace it, especially during their run up to the championship. “A little extra luck can’t hurt anyone. Except the other team, I guess.”

“It can make us late, though,” she said, one of her ears flicking back as one of the doors they passed opened and closed- had to be other patrons of the hotel, seeing as the rest of their team was already downstairs by the bus. “Which would mean we forfeit.”

“We’re not running that late,” Yang replied, throwing a grin her way. Then, lilac eyes were drawn behind them and lingered a moment before her lips pulled into a very specific smirk. Blake knew that smirk- it was the ‘oh, I’ve got an idea, you might not like it but you’re gonna do it’ expression, because aside from being one of the best keepers in the region, Yang Xiao Long was also ridiculously persuasive. Dangerously so, in fact. “Hey. Toss me the ball.”

“Your hands are full.”

“Wasn’t going to use my hands.”

Blake narrowed her eyes, vividly remembering the last time someone tried doing agility drills down a hotel hallway, and picked up on the subtle look behind them. After a few more steps, she turned to say something about the game to Yang as an excuse to glance behind them. And then, it all made sense.

A bit further down the hallway were two women, both of whom were dressed in sharp business attire, and the moment Blake returned her attention to Yang, she pointed at herself and mouthed the word ‘tall’ with a wink.

“C’mon, toss me the ball,” Yang said, coming to a stop.

Blake glanced at her watch and, although a touch reluctant, decided they had enough time for a little demonstration. Tossing the ball towards Yang, she stepped back to lean against the wall while the woman started juggling while still carrying both totes. With her best friend as a distraction, Blake could take a longer look at the women Yang was trying to impress, and realized a few things, chiefly: they weren’t just any business women following behind them.

They were the Schnee sisters.

Atlesian elites, borderline nobility, some of the richest and most powerful people in the world; the Schnee sisters were in the news for one reason or another practically every day. Blake was more familiar with the attitude and mentality of the younger sister, Weiss Schnee, because it was her actions that Blake, as a faunus, found most… interesting. All the way up until she assumed control of her family’s company, the woman didn’t seem much at odds with the stuffy, bigoted, narrow minded people found in her social circle. After, though, she not only did an unapologetic one-eighty in the other direction, she became so aggressively progressive that it created a wide schism in the highest echelons of Atlesian society. More than once, she’d deployed the surprisingly well equipped private SDC security forces to protect protestors from Atlesian police and military personnel, and paid an exorbitant amount of money to keep those protestors out of jail, either by paying off bonds or hiring attorneys. In a relatively short amount of time, she’d become a juggernaut for social changes, and the careful monopoly her scheming father had built became the ultimate tool for exacting those changes.

Blake could admire the woman’s sense of justice as well as her commitment to it.

The elder, though, she only knew by name. Winter Schnee stood on her sister’s side when it came to social issues and did something tangentially related to the SDC but, beyond that, the details were a blur. She’d never heard Yang mention either sister in anything more than a passing comment while they pursued the news together waiting for flights, certainly nothing she could recall that would explain why the woman wanted Winter’s attention specifically. However, it also wasn’t out of the ordinary for Yang to show off a bit for pretty ladies when presented the opportunity.

By the time Blake had made a decision herself, Yang had run through every trick she knew and had popped the ball up to balance on her chest. She motioned for the woman to pass the ball, which earned her a raised brow at first before lilac eyes twinkled and she popped her shoulders back to set the ball in motion.

Blake caught it before it hit the ground with her foot, stalling the ball’s momentum entirely for a moment before she began juggling herself. For her, it was less a skill she’d developed for showing off as one of honing control of her body and the ball, but she knew a few tricks, moving slightly away from the wall so she could juggle the ball in a circle around her while still facing Yang. It meant juggling with her heel behind her back briefly but she managed it without losing control and that prompted a low murmur from their audience. Impressively, she couldn’t make out the words, which made her think the speaker specifically didn’t want her to hear.

After transitioning between using her feet and knees, the faunus popped the ball up high enough for her head to get under it, her feline ears laying flat against her skull to prove she wasn’t using them to help her balance the ball in place, which earned a brief chuckle from Yang. Then, she began bouncing it atop her head while moving her head just so to get the ball rotating before allowing it to roll off her head so she could catch it with her foot.

With a glance to confirm Yang was prepared, Blake passed her the ball, and the two of them traded it for a while, trying to catch the other off guard to make the eventual save and pass even more impressive. It was a show of control and dexterity and, had they planned it, would’ve had a better end to the display. Unfortunately, a short pass from Yang resulted in both of them trying to save it, which sent the ball bouncing harmlessly down the hall until it came to a stop at Winter’s feet.

Then again, given the glint in Yang’s eye, perhaps that was her intention. “Oh, sorry about that. We’re just… warming up.”

With a jerk of her head, the faunus realized her friend was requesting some back-up. “Yes, we, uh… are on our way to a game. The semi-finals, actually.”

“We can probably get ya seats, if you want.” A nonchalant shrug. “You should come watch us play.”

The sisters exchanged a look then. The elder, questioning, and the younger… Blake couldn’t put a word to that look. It was equal parts goading and secretive, and perhaps something else dancing in blue eyes. She would need a lot more time to decipher that look.

And she found herself wanting it.

Then, without a word, Winter put her foot on top of the ball and rolled it back, popped it up, and… began juggling with just as much precision as they’d displayed. Except, unlike them- bedecked in jerseys, loose shorts, and tennis shoes- she was doing it in a form fitting pants suit and dress shoes, hampering her mobility somewhat though it hardly impacted her performance, executing all the tricks Yang had done. Then, she passed it to her sister, who, in high heels and a skirt, proceeded to do the same, keeping many of the tricks low so her skirt wouldn’t ride up. Which, of course, meant she had less room to manipulate the ball, had to move faster to get into position to execute each trick, and when she did a version of Blake’s around the world one, the faunus felt her mouth pop open in astonishment.

Once satisfied, Weiss passed the ball back to her sister, who caught it one handed.

“We appreciate the invitation. However...” Winter tossed the ball, hard enough that it hit Yang’s chest before the keeper thought to catch it. “We unfortunately have a prior engagement that requires our attention.”

The sisters began walking past the gobsmacked footballers and Blake didn’t miss the look Weiss directed her way as she spoke. “After you’ve won your game, perhaps you’ll join us in the hotel’s hot tub?”

Blake didn’t notice how close they were to their floor’s elevator until Winter reached over and pushed the button to call a car. “Unless, of course, you have your own post victory traditions that take precedence.”

Yang just shook her head while Blake managed to find her voice. “No. We don’t. Have traditions, I mean.”

“Excellent,” Weiss said, stepping into the car the moment the doors twanged open and hitting a button inside, smiling in a way that… well… Blake would call it seductive in another setting and found herself hard pressed not to call it that now. “We’ll see you there. Don’t be late.”

When the doors closed, both Blake and Yang were left standing in the hallway, both just… recovering from how mentally unprepared they were for their tricks to be used against them to great effect. After another moment, Yang turned to look at her, holding up the ball.

“Lucky. Ball.”

Blake resolved to not argue that point and instead focus on winning the game, ushering her teammate towards the stairs rather than waiting for the next car.

---

Weiss leaned back against the wall of the elevator. While they’d chosen to book this particular hotel for their business trip specifically because their favorite football team would be staying there, and they’d opted to not use the penthouse suite because they wanted a chance to catch glimpses of the team while going to and from meetings, neither expected to meet their personal favorite players in the hallway like that. Weiss had followed Blake’s career since college and, while responsibilities had prevented her from attending as many games as she would’ve liked, she always recorded them and watched them later. Up until the encounter in the hallway, that was how she and Winter had planned to spend their evening.

Now, though…

“Would it be inappropriate for me to bring her jersey to the hot tub in the hopes she’ll sign it?”

Winter made a considering noise. “Bring the jersey, leave a suitable pen in the room.”

“How would that accomplish her signing it?”

“Invite her back to the room.” Her elder sister smiled, and a twinkle in her eyes spoke to the crude humor of a former soldier. “I’ll be… elsewhere tonight.”

“Spare me the details,” she replied as they reached the ground floor. “... but thank you for the idea.”

As a general rule, Weiss was never overly fond of business meetings, but she found herself looking forward to the end of this one more than usual, if only to see where the night led.

---

Blake pushed out a nervous breath as she and Yang made their way towards the hotel’s pool area. The game itself ended in a shootout and while Blake had made the final goal that secured them a berth to the finals, she couldn’t relax quite yet. Post game celebrations usually involved Blake joining the rest of the team for a glass of champagne or a toast of some sort before the others prepared for a night on the town to celebrate the win. Most of the time, Yang went with them, leaving the faunus plenty of time to wind down with a book of her choice and a peacefully quiet hotel room. Even on the odd occurrence when Yang didn’t join the others, the blonde still found other ways of occupying herself that preserved Blake’s quiet.

So, rushing back to the hotel room to change into their swimwear before the hotel shut down their pool was a major break from their normal routine, and knowing they’d be going to meet two very beautiful and apparently incredibly talented women… well, she was just a touch nervous.

Unfortunately, her best friend didn’t share that anxiety.

“One piece or bikini?”

“What?”

“Which do you think they’re wearing?” The blonde shrugged, the tips of her hair brushing the back of her neck. Normally, Yang wore her hair down or in a thick braid for games, but seeing as she didn’t have the energy to deal with drying her hair again after the quick post game shower they’d rushed through. “I’m hoping Winter’s wearing a bikini or a two piece. She’s gotta have some abs, right?”

“You have an eight pack; what does it matter to you if she has abs?”

“It’s about the commitment.” With a smirk, she gestured towards her own abs, prominently on display thanks to her yellow bikini top. Along with a darkening bruise around her left eye, there were bruises along her ribs from a few sliding tackles that had almost sidelined the keeper entirely, but Yang was a bit tougher than their opponents expected. “It takes work to get these and keep ‘em.”

“And what’s the point of wearing a bikini top if you’re just going to wear swim trunks for bottoms?” She arched a brow, more comfortable poking holes in her best friend’s thought process than confronting reality as they neared their destination. While she, too, opted for bikini style swimwear, Blake had chosen a black top with matching bottoms and a light purple sarong around her hips. She might claim to be somewhat modest in comparison, but she was showing a bit more skin- which, rationally, she could justify because they were getting in a hot tub, not attending a gala, showing a bit of skin should be expected-

Blake shook her head, trying to calm her anxiety again.

“Gotta make her work for the goods,” Yang replied, either oblivious to or pointedly ignoring her nerves. Then again, perhaps she had a few of her own that she was hiding, considering the way she reached up to fiddle with her hair. “Besides, my bottoms always ride up. Trunks are more comfortable. Not all of us have an ass that won’t quit.”

“Not judging, I just think it’s… silly. To focus on what they’ll be wearing.”

“What else is there to think about?”

“How hard we’re going to flirt.” She pointed out, tilting her head thoughtfully. “What to say, how to say it… what result we’re hoping for.”

“Don’t overthink it, Blakey.” A laugh. “Let’s just have some fun.”

They came to a set of glass double doors that granted entry to the pool area of the hotel… at which point they realized the pool officially closed half an hour ago. Yang cursed under her breath as Blake’s shoulders slumped. They’d missed their chance, it seemed.

“Oh, Miss Belladonna? Miss Xiao Long?”

“That’s us,” Yang replied as a hotel employee approached them, already grabbing a key card attached to his lanyard and holding it up to a sensor beside the doors.

“Here. Both Miss Schnees are waiting for you.”

The footballers exchanged a look, surprised by the special treatment. True, they were quasi celebrities themselves, but this hotel handled all teams from the league, which meant they weren’t any more famous than the average patron. Then again, the Schnee sisters had quite a bit more clout than they did and could probably swing something like being given unfettered access to the pool area.

With a shrug and a smirk, Yang opened one door and they entered, spotting the sisters sitting in chairs beside the hot tub. Both were reading magazines, with fresh drinks on a table between them, and were… well… Blake found she couldn’t immediately discern their taste in swimwear because both sisters were wearing football jerseys. And not just any jerseys.

“I see you took us up on our offer,” Weiss said, getting to her feet and motioning towards the hot tub before reaching for the hem of the jersey to pull it off. At a glance, Blake could tell it was the special limited edition run from a few years ago, and her number no less. And while she would be sorely tempted to assume the woman had found one last minute, the careful way Weiss placed the jersey on the chair- not dropped or thrown carelessly- made her think otherwise. Only then did she notice the woman had opted for a light blue one piece with a single strap, leaving her upper back mostly exposed. “Splendid.”

“Congratulations on your win.” Winter also set aside her magazine and stood up, revealing she was wearing Yang’s limited edition jersey, and she took the same amount of care in removing it and setting it aside. Much to her friend’s delight, the elder of the sisters did wear a bikini of a darker blue and also sported some abs, though they lacked the definition of Yang’s. “A hard fought victory like that certainly deserves a celebration.”

As the sisters entered the hot tub, Blake looked over to Yang, who seemed equal parts excited and… intimidated- and that second one was hard. But what intimidated her ultimately evolved into a challenge and Yang never backed down from a challenge. For her part, the faunus just found herself wondering if, perhaps, they had a different idea of who needed to impress who than the sisters did.

Removing her sarong, Blake tossed it onto the chair Weiss had used and went to the hot tub, noting how the sisters had chosen to sit across from each other. She hesitated in entering, if only because she didn’t want to be too forward. Yang, of course, took the seating as a goading taunt of sorts, and settled herself in the tub hardly an arm’s length away from Winter. Probably closer than would be considered polite but neither seemed uncomfortable or surprised by the decision, so Blake opted to test the waters herself, sitting approximately the same distance away from Weiss but also across from Yang.

Almost instantly, she let out a sigh of relief; while focusing on getting to the hot tub, she’d done her best to ignore the lingering aches and pains from the game. Now, though, she could feel herself relaxing as the warmth began sinking into her muscles. Usually, she just focused on stretches before bed and had a tub of balm if that failed.

“Should probably do this more often,” Yang said, obviously relaxing herself. “Forgot how good hot tubs feel after a rough game.”

“Speaking of that, did you get checked out?” Winter gestured towards her eye. “You took a few nasty hits. I’m surprised seventeen didn’t get thrown out of the game.”

“The Vipers always play hard.” The blonde tried to shrug off the concern. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“You took a few shots, too.” Weiss pointed out. “How’s your knee?”

“I’ve taken worse falls.” She gave a wry smile. “But I’m beginning to suspect you know that.”

“I’ll admit I’ve been a fan of yours since your college days.” The woman shrugged one shoulder, feigning nonchalance- and Blake only suspected it was a show because blue eyes didn’t meet hers as she spoke. “I hardly think that is remarkable. You’re one of the best strikers the league has ever seen.”

“Did you ever consider playing?” At the curious look she received, Blake inclined her head. “It took me years to develop those tricks, and you did them better. That speaks to a remarkable amount of skill.”

“Well, I’ll admit I entertained the idea a time or two. Ultimately, I chose my path, and it didn’t leave enough room to become a superstar footballer.” She shook her head. “I don’t regret it but, I suppose, part of the reason I practice those little tricks to keep the dream alive.”

Her ears perked up, catching something between the lines. “Part of the reason? What’s the other part?”

“Why, to catch your eye, of course.”

“My eye?” She couldn’t help the surprised chuckle that bubbled up from her chest. “You’re Weiss Schnee; you don’t really need to try to catch anyone’s attention.”

The woman’s expression faltered then. “Yes, well… unfortunately, the sort of attention I garner on my own is markedly less… impressive, by some standards.”

“I’d think those people have poor standards, then,” she said, opting to tip her hand as well. “You’ve managed to galvanize social changes that have taken some kingdoms entire decades in a matter of years. Comparatively, bouncing a ball’s hardly anything. Don’t you think?”

At that Weiss laughed, a bright, high, unrestrained sound that Blake rather liked hearing. “If I thought that, I wouldn’t be trying so hard to impress you, now would I? And you shouldn’t discount your own efforts outside the pitch.”

The faunus felt her lips quirk up in amusement. They’d been watching each other from afar all this time; the only thing she didn’t account for was the magnetic attraction that being in the woman’s presence seemed to engender. And, as she made an excuse of stretching to cover her moving slightly closer to Weiss, it seemed she wasn’t the only one feeling it. The woman, mysteriously, decided to move and dip her shoulders beneath the water’s surface long enough to bring out a lovely light pink blush to her skin, and when she sat back against the tub’s wall, she was a bit closer to Blake.

Surreptitiously, she snuck a glance towards Yang, if only to gauge how much teasing she would be in for on the flight back home the following day. She quickly realized her best friend wouldn’t have a leg to stand on when it came to teasing; somehow, Winter had coaxed Yang into her lap and was apparently giving the footballer a message. For her part, Yang seemed to be in a luxurious sort of heaven, eyes half lidded and with a silly sort of smile on her lips.

“Forgive my sister,” Weiss said, a sardonic smile on her lips. “I’m impressed she’s shown this much restraint.”

“I can hear you,” the woman replied, blue eyes flashing towards her younger sister. “But that can be remedied. Yang?”

“Hmmm?”

“I think this would work better if you were lying down.”

Lilac eyes widened as the woman tilted her head, glancing over towards Blake. With a small nod, the faunus made the silent agreement to avoid their hotel room for a few hours. Frankly, Yang had slept in a few lobbies over the years, when she’d returned too drunk to be quiet and not wanting to risk waking the faunus. She could spend a night elsewhere to return the favor.

“Yeah… I think you’re right.”

As the two got out of the hot tub and retrieved towels, Blake returned her attention to the woman beside her. “You don’t have to try, you know.”

“Pardon?”

“Impressing me. You don’t have to try.” Blake tilted her head, leaning back to brace her arms against the rim of the hot tub. “I think that’s the part I don’t like about being with the league. The mandatory press conferences and the rules- sometimes, I just want to get straight on the bus after a game and go back to reading my book, not sit and play twenty questions for an hour. It’s like… wearing an ill fitting mask.”

“You handle them remarkably well.” Weiss smirked. “But I suppose I say that because I speak my mind a bit too bluntly during press conferences. I admire your restraint.”

“I admire your candor,” she replied, very carefully laying one arm along the tub’s rim behind the woman. “I really liked the interview you did with the Atlas Economist. It looked like you were going to give that guy an aneurysm.”

“That would’ve been impossible.” A light chuckle as she moved closer, lowering her voice ever so slightly to coax Blake into leaning closer. “He would need a brain first.”

They both laughed, using their amusement to hide their shifting movements until Weiss was pressed into her side ever so slightly. They continued talking and laughing quietly until sitting in the hot tub started becoming uncomfortable. However, the faunus did her best to ignore it simply because she didn’t want to part ways quite yet. Weiss was… a lot of things- emphatic, sharp tongued, witty- but above all good company that Blake wasn’t keen on losing quite yet. However, she couldn’t ignore that the heat of the tub was taking a toll on them both.

“Your skin’s turning red,” she said, running a thumb over the ball of Weiss’ shoulder. “We should probably get out.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

They both stood and exited the hot tub, grabbing towels to start drying themselves off. While doing that, she wracked her brain for some excuse to continue their conversation but found herself coming up woefully empty. Every suggestion she could come up with either sounded ridiculous or… risque. It wasn’t like she could simply invite the woman back to her hotel room for some tea.

“Thank you for the invite, by the way,” she said, trying to buy herself some time. “A good soak after a tough game feels… fantastic. I don’t often indulge.”

Blue eyes lit up as the woman wrapped a towel around her hips. “I’m more than glad you accepted. However, if you wish to… pay me back… I’ve been meaning to ask for your autograph.”

Blake raised a brow. The request seemed… deceptively innocent, especially with the way Weiss was looking at her. “I can do that. You want me to sign your jersey?”

“If it isn’t too much trouble.” The barest moment of silence, and then she tilted her head. “Unfortunately, the only pen I have is in my room.”

Blake took a step closer, pleased to see she actually stood a few inches taller than the woman when she wasn’t wearing heels, and lowered her voice. “Well… I suppose we’ll have to go to your room, then.” A pause. “And, maybe, we’ll think of something else I can sign along the way.”

Weiss smiled and donned the jersey, setting her hand in the crook of the faunus’ elbow. “Perhaps. Do you have any ideas?”

“I do.” As they started walking, she chuckled. “But I wouldn’t want to use a pen to sign something so… delicate.”

The woman hummed, pointedly looking at her mouth. “I believe I know of something else you can use.”

While outwardly Blake merely smiled a bit wider, internally she asked herself a question: just how far was she willing to go?

Before they reached the elevator, she’d decided that if she wasn’t officially dating Weiss Schnee by the time she boarded the plane tomorrow, she’d be disappointed in herself.

---

Weiss stretched luxuriously in her bed as the morning rays streamed in through the window. She was sore in places she’d forgotten existed- but the pleasant type of sore, the kind that eventually turned into an itch for more, and it took conscious effort not to reach for her scroll just then. It would probably do her well to show some restraint.

That mentality lasted all of thirty seconds before her scroll was in hand and she was admiring her new background picture, taken just before Blake put on her swimwear from the night before and left to return to her room. Nothing terribly suggestive or revealing, of course, just the faunus resting her chin on Weiss shoulder. An ordinary selfie. With her new girlfriend.

She couldn’t help the smile curling her lips.

The door opened and she looked over her shoulder, watching her sister strut into the room wearing her bikini with her usual air of complete and total confidence. Her jersey was held in one hand. Probably because she wanted to… show off. “You walked down the hallway like that?”

“Of course,” Winter replied, not even batting an eye at the words ‘Property of Yang Xiao Long’ written in marker across her chest and abdomen. “I’m pleased with the outcome.”

Then, a smirk.

“Please, don’t elaborate.”

“I won’t but I do hope you were as successful as I was.”

She glanced at her scroll as a message came through from Blake, a smile coming to her lips. “Indeed I was.”

Who knew giving in to her impulse to show off would have such wonderful results.

[theboredwritertm]

hi if you write smut.... maybe mando being the reader’s first time?? if not, ignore this :))

Innuendo 

A/N: I’m going to admit this was the first request I received (ever) for The Mandalorian and it’s been gathering dust for the past couple of weeks (because I’m a simp for Cobb Vanth apparently??) Anyway, so sorry it’s taken this long, anon. I haven’t written this kind of thing before, but always love the chance to try new subject matter. Thanks for sending it through! I’ll admit this piece felt kind of clunky as I was writing it, but since I’m (sorta) sticking to a posting schedule now, I just wanted to get it done. And apparently, I can’t write something without backstory, so it got a little long!

Rating: 18+ for adult situations

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: Awful jokes and innuendos, awkwardness, a clueless Din, probably swearing, consensual sex, loss of virginity

Word Count: 5930 (Once again, consider the first 3000 words terrible foreplay)

Summary: After putting up with months of your supposedly-unintentional innuendos, Din finally takes charge…only to find out things aren’t quite what he expected.  

He’d picked you up like a Bantha tick and hadn’t been able to shake you since.

You’d managed to argue your way into a semi-permanent position onboard the Crest after what he would call a rescue, but what you still stubbornly referred to as an ‘assisted retreat’, and it didn’t look like you planned on leaving any time soon. 

So, he was stuck with you. At least that’s how he liked to think of the situation.

Never mind that it was nice to have someone to come back to after a long mission that could actually talk back to him. Or that you kept the ship neat and tidy. Or that you were practically a live-in babysitter for the little one at this point. Not to mention the way you always managed to throw together decent meals for the three of you that didn’t always come out of a pack – and that you seemed to enjoy doing so. 

And never mind that he liked listening to your soft, happy hums as you stirred together whatever ingredients you had managed to pull together, and that he’d stand in the doorway, silent as a shadow as he took this in, thinking to himself that if a Bantha was half as lucky to pick up a tick like you, it could do much worse for itself.

But what really got to him were the jokes.

You weren’t what he would consider shy, not since you seemed to have no problem at all talking back to him when he had grown so used to others shrinking back at the mere sight of him – still, he hadn’t been expecting the first comment that had just sort of slipped out of you after a few weeks of being in each other’s company. By that point you were comfortable enough to throw the odd sarcastic quip around at each other without having to worry about someone getting offended, so that’s what he had decided to take it as: a joke. At least, the first time. 

Since the Crest was prone to the odd malfunction, given its age and what he guessed to be a few too many battles before it was decommissioned, it hadn’t surprised him to walk into a cockpit full of smoke one day. What had surprised him was the way you had stepped into the room, taken one look around as you waved the smoke from your face, and said, “Is it hot in here, or is it just you?”

He’d taken it as he thought he should. A bad joke. You were prone to them as he had come to find, and there’d been plenty of times that he’d heard you use the same kind of lines on people you needed something from. In his case, he guessed that something was shelter and a place to lay low for a while. And he had obliged.  

The second time wasn’t as bad. It was worse. Terrible, even. He had no idea what you’d been going for, but as he’d approached the ship after a particularly grueling job and found you standing on the ramp, one foot balanced on a crate and look of mock-seduction, you’d cocked an eyebrow and greeted him with, “Hey, handsome. Looking for a ride?” 

His response? A semi-confused, completely weary, “It’s my ship,” as he’d passed you by.

The third time he thought maybe he’d just taken it the wrong way.

You’d been discussing his work, how long it had been between jobs, and how you were both getting a little light on credits. You’d shaken your head, lounging sideways in the co-pilot seat in a way that always looked uncomfortable to him, but seemed just fine to you, when you’d said, “I don’t get it. There’s got to be work out there somewhere.” Then you’d paused for a moment before adding, “If I looked hard enough, I’m sure I could find a few openings for you to fill.” He had frowned and glanced over, certain he’d caught the passing ghost of a smirk on your lips before you resumed looking completely innocent, as if you were simply pondering the tricky predicament you found yourselves in. 

Then there was the touching.

At first, he’d found excuses to move out of your reach, an attempt to make his knee-jerk reaction to shrug you off look less obvious. Then one day he’d exercised some restraint as you’d popped a warm, friendly hand on his thigh before getting up from the co-pilot’s seat, announcing you were ready for bed, and he’d realized…he kind of liked it. What, to you, (he was sure) was just fleeting, friendly touches – something ordinary and human he had been deprived of growing up – started to become something he would linger on for hours, sometimes days afterwards. There was something frustrating in the way you could make something that felt so intimate to him look so casual to you. 

Another time, more recently, was probably the worst of the lot – but only because of the effect it’d had on him.

During the last stop-off, you’d both been standing in the holding bay surveying the handful of acquisitions he had stored in carbonite. Work had finally picked up, and you’d proven surprisingly helpful in acquiring them, but in that particular instance, there had been a slight problem – two of them were destined for the same planet, but the cities were in complete opposite directions. The timeframes to meet the employers would never have allowed him to make both trips. So, you’d stepped up, placing a hand on his arm as you’d surveyed the captives and said, “Look, I’ve never been much of a delivery person, but I’m more than happy to handle your package for you, just this once.” He’d stared at you, glancing down briefly at the hand on his armor, then up at your smile. “What do you say?” you’d asked, eyes never leaving his visor.

It had taken a troubling amount of self-control not to close up the ramp and show you just how okay with that proposition he was. Because it had been a long time since he’d last gotten the chance. He’d blame the dry spell on the kid, on new responsibilities that hadn’t been there before, but it had been like this for well-over a year, way before the Child had even come into his life. Gone were the days of his youth where he could pick someone out of a bustling cantina crowd and lead them off silently to some grimy bathroom or backroom for a quick fuck – them, for the thrill of being with one of his kind, and him, out of sheer physical need. He’d made peace with the fact that those days were behind him (and considering the state of some of those bathrooms – and some of the partners – it was probably for the best). But that didn’t mean that the need went away. And then there was you.

You, with your perfect skin and the glow of youth still about you. Your long, shiny hair that always made his fingers twitch with need to reach out and run them through it. Your (cute) annoying laugh, and the way you would crinkle up your nose as you found something he’d said particularly funny for some reason he could never figure out (him, fumbling with switches from the pilot’s seat as he attempted to focus, ignoring the smile prickling at his own mouth as the sweet sound of your giggling flipped the doofus switch in his brain). You with the form-fitting pants you sometimes wore when a mission called for something you could move easily in, ones that made his own pants feel a little more form fitting when he stared for long enough to let his mind wander. 

You and your damn jokes.

In the end, much to his surprise, it wasn’t a joke that had finally sent him over the edge. It was a simple word, and this time you actually had context to back you up, to assure him that it wasn’t you just fucking with him. Given the situation, it absolutely shouldn’t have had the effect on him that it did. But it had triggered something in him that even he didn’t know he was into.

The kid had been seated in his usual spot, in the seat behind Din’s, when you’d walked in and spotted his big eyes beginning to droop. You had developed a routine with him now – dinner, a bit of bonding time with Din in the cockpit, then bed – and so far, it had seemed to work well for the little guy. You were new to the whole childcare thing, but it made it easier for you to know where punishment and reward was warranted – especially since you were terrible at telling him off. One look at his little face and all wrongdoings were forgotten, something Din never seemed particularly impressed with (even if he was just as guilty of it as you were).

You approached the seat, reaching down to scoop up the sleepy bundle, and pulled him close.

“Come on, little one. Let’s leave daddy to his thing. Time for bed.”

As you turned and headed for the steps leading down to his cot, you failed to notice the way Din had stiffened in his seat. He turned his head to watch you go, eyes dropping down to linger on your ass as the word replayed in his mind. Then he turned back to the flight console, hand lingering over it in a split-moment of indecision, before he flicked on auto-pilot and got to his feet.

Enough was enough. 

*

You had absolutely been fucking with him.  

The first time it had just sort of slipped out, you’ll admit. After years of dealing with the Guild, which what was honestly a bit of a boys’ club, you’d developed the shitty flirting as a reflex to seem more at ease with whoever you were working with (and, okay, sometimes it got you better jobs, too. So what?) But after catching Din’s initial reaction (back when you knew him solely as the strong, silent Mando) you knew it was a thread you had to tug at. And tug at it, you had, just to see the man unravel. 

You knew the risks, knew the Mandalorian’s reputation, but part of you had wondered how far you could take it…how far you wanted it to go. 

You were about to find out.

As you pressed the button to close up the baby’s metal capsule, smiling as you caught one last glimpse of his sleeping form, you turned to find yourself face-to-helmet with the man himself. Even without seeing his face, there was still an intensity to the way he was looking at you, how he leaned in until you have no choice but to back yourself up against the cold steel of the wall. 

“This needs to stop,” he says, tone full of warning. Though you could have sworn there was a touch of something else to his voice. You want to say it sounds like desperation, but that feels a little self-indulgent, even for you.

“I’m sorry. Did you want to put the kid to bed? I just thought—”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

His hand comes up to rest beside you on the wall, as he leans in closer, effectively boxing you in. 

Oh, boy. 

You wonder if this is the same technique he uses on people he’s trying to get information from and if it should be having this effect on you. You’re almost certain it’s fear that you should be feeling, not, uh, this. You clear your throat and look up at him, wracking your brain for what you’ve done or said in the last ten minutes to warrant this kind of reaction from him, especially given the more obvious attempts to rile him up over the past couple of months. You’d picked up the kid, same as you did every other night. Maybe it was the way you’d bent over to do it. You glance down briefly at your clothes, but it’s not a particularly revealing outfit. You’d worn much less in front of him before with far less reaction. Maybe it was something you’d said?

Come on, little one. Let’s leave daddy to-

Oh. 

Oh.

The word leaves your mouth as a soft question intended mainly for yourself, a thought given voice. Din stiffens immediately, across from you. You look up at him, realizing at the same time he does that you’ve caught on.

“Wait, really? Is that what this abou—?”

His other hand comes up towards your throat, and for a moment you think he’s going to choke you (and you’re a little concerned that the feeling you get from that thought still isn’t fear) but his touch is gentle. His hand comes to rest on the side of your neck, thumb against your cheek as he looks at you for a moment before his voice comes through once more. 

“Say it again.”

You keep your gaze trained on his visor, where you’re sure his eyes are currently burning into you, and feel heat flooding in opposite directions in your body; up to your face, and down between your legs. And you feel ridiculous. You had never been into that kind of thing before, and you feel silly saying it; but if there’s one thing you are into, it’s the big guy in front of you – the one telling you to say this one little word, just for him – and having him this close talking to you like this, well it might just be worth the humiliation. Hell, maybe that’s something you’re into, as well.

“Daddy?”

The hand on the wall next to you pulls back as he growls, and slams forward fast enough to make you jump, smacking against the light switch, bathing you both in sudden darkness. You feel him lean in closer, certain that if you were to move your head even slightly forward it would come into contact with the cold beskar of his helmet.

“Do you want this?” his voice, gravelly with lust, sounds through the modulator, as the hand on your neck begins to slide downwards.

Shit.

Even if you had wanted to say no before – you hadn’t – you’re sure the low rumble in his tone would have changed your mind. You’d never heard him keyed up like this before. He always had a way of keeping it together, of staying in control, but you’d been messing with him for so long, teasing, casually throwing your innuendos around, knowing exactly what you were doing to him. You don’t know why you feel so surprised that it’s finally come down to this. It was kind of like a daydream, a fantasy finally coming true, and you feel completely unprepared.

“I do, Din, seriously, but, uh, there’s just—”

“What is it?”

You wonder how you’re going to break it to him. Honestly, you feel like a fucking fraud after everything you’ve put him through. You feel like you’ve been leading him on. You sigh and duck your head as you make your confession.

“I’ve never done this before.”

You don’t know how to explain it, but you feel him suddenly deflate, as if the tension in the room has been replaced with something akin to disappointment. 

“You’re joking?” And for once, you’re not.

He doesn’t mean for the words to come out the way they do, and even though he can’t say he’s any less turned on by this revelation he knows there are implications there that can’t be ignored if he wants to keep going. Only, right now, he’s not feeling very patient. 

You wince at the level of exasperation in his tone. “No.”

There’s silence for a moment and you have to reach out to feel that he’s still there, your hand landing on his chest plate. His hand comes up to rest on top of yours, and you think that maybe its to pull it away, that the lights will come back on at any moment and this opportunity will disappear forever, but he holds it there, thinking things over. 

“How much experience do you have? Any?”

There’s a change to his tone, now. He sounds curious.

“Yeah, I mean I’ve…”

Why does this feel so fucking awkward suddenly? You’ve spent the last six months in this man’s daily company, and while that might not seem like a lot of time in terms of getting to know a person, a majority of that was spent in the confined space of the Crest. You know each other’s routines now; all the little habits and pet peeves you can only pick up on when living in close quarters with someone else. You know he likes silence at meal times, but that he’s more open to conversation after time away on a job, and you’ve come to be able to tell just from his posture if that job had gone well. You know some of each other’s history – him mostly learning yours, since you’re by far the chattier person – yet, still, your face is hot with embarrassment as you recall the handful of experiences you’ve had. You’d never talked about this kind of stuff. You’d only ever joked about it.

“You know, like, mouth stuff.”

“Mouth stuff?” he repeats, and you swear there’s laughter in his voice when he says it.

Your face is beginning to feel unbearably hot, and you’re sure that if he decided to read your heat signature right now your skin would look like you’d just spent a week straight wandering the Tatooine desert. 

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“Hm,” he replies thoughtfully, like he does and that maybe he’s picturing it, “What else?”

“Hand—”

“Hand stuff?” he cuts you off, undeniably making fun of you now. 

You smack him in the chest plate, only managing to send a sting through your hand in the process, then push forward as if to move past him, like you think you could make your way anywhere in this darkness. “You know what? Maybe I don’t want this, after all.”

It’s a blatant lie, but you’re starting to think maybe humiliation’s not your thing after all.

He stops you and you don’t resist. You’d been wanting this pretty much from day one, back when he’d assisted with your retreat after a hunt had gone sideways – from the moment you’d watched him swagger into the cantina and stand calmly between you and the half-dozen armed men who were protecting their wanted leader. Back when you’d been just a young, fellow hunter in need of aid.

“Tell me what you want,” he asks you now.

You think about it for all of two seconds. “I want y—This. I want this.” You stumble over what is almost too much of a confession. It feels too soon to tell heavy truths like that, so you settle for what you already know he’s offering. “Just…go easy.”

There’s a silence that seems to drag out in the darkness, then a hiss as he removes his helmet. You feel his body move closer to yours, and you swear that’s his hair brushing your cheek as he leans in and says, “I can do that.”

He scoops you up without warning, reminding of how quick and strong he can be even when he’s weighed down by all that armor, and you find you can’t help yourself as you say: 

“You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet.”

Without the helmet, his sigh meets your skin as a warm huff across your face.

“Do me a favor?”

“Sure,” you reply without hesitation, feeling him still beneath you.

“No more jokes. Please.”

You laugh at the exasperation in his voice and find yourself caught completely off guard when you hear a huff of breath escape him that might have passed for laughter, too, but before you can say anything you find yourself being whisked away towards what you assume is the small space of his sleeping quarters. He seems to know his way well enough to not bump into anything along the way, but even so you hug yourself in tight to avoid any knocks to the head. You look up as a door rasps open in front of you and you can only barely make out the outline of the bed. Din is quick to place you down on it before he drops his helmet to the floor and starts tugging off his armor, placing it somewhere nearby. You sit on the edge of the mattress staring awkwardly into the darkness, knowing you should probably start undressing, too, but suddenly feeling self-conscious despite the pitch darkness that surrounds you. 

“Do you want me to undress you?” Din asks, and his tone is gentle enough for it to be a serious question. 

You shake your head in response after thinking it over for a minute before remembering he can’t see you. 

“You’ll have to use your words,” he says, “The lights need to stay off.” He pauses for a moment, then adds, “Is that okay?”

You know it’s not him asking if you’re expecting him to betray his creed in order for this to happen; it’s him asking if you’re okay with not being able to see anything for your first time. 

Your first time.

Urgh. It sounds so juvenile when you think about it that way, but so far, it’s living up to the adolescent kind of awkwardness you had expected, back when you had actually been an adolescent. You were past that now, and if you’re being honest with yourself that’s part of what’s making you feel self-conscious about this whole thing. You feel like this should have happened a long time ago. You wonder if Din thinks it odd that you’ve left it for this long.

“That’s fine,” you tell him quickly. Though you wish you could see him, not only to know what you’ll be working with, but also because doing it this way adds a layer of anonymity you didn’t necessarily want to associate with your first time. You’d always pictured it being with someone you felt close to – as cliché as it sounded, someone who was special to you. And even though that was true in this case, not being able to see that certain someone was detracting from the whole experience. 

You feel movement in front of you and a large, warm hand finds your knee, running it over the fabric that still covers your body.

“We don’t have to do this if you’ve changed your mind,” Din tells you. His voice is different without the helmet; softer, gentler. Or maybe it’s just the circumstances that has him talking to you this way. You’d heard him use this kind of tone on the Child, and you had always admired the level of patience he always managed to show the kid, but you’d never found yourself on the receiving end of it like this before. It’s comforting.

Comforting enough to confirm your decision.

His hand moves away as he feels you start to shimmy out of your clothes. Your top goes first, up and over your head, joining his pile on the floor, then you reach down for the button on the front of your pants. You pause, realizing how exposed you’ll be, even with the cool air meeting your already-exposed nipples. This is a different kind of exposed, you think; more intimate. You give yourself a moment. 

“May I?” he asks, and you’re surprised enough by his politeness that you nod, forgetting again he can’t see you, and breath out, “Yeah.”

You move your hand and let him take over, feeling his deft fingers make quick work of your button and zipper before he starts to tug the fabric down your legs, taking your pants and underwear all in one go. His hands find your knees and you sigh at the skin-on-skin contact, never expecting the man to feel this warm. You hear him drop down to his knees and suddenly feel warm breath between your legs. You make to close your legs at the unexpected sensation, unsure about having him this close to that area, but his hands come up to pull them back apart.

“What are you doing?” you ask, only to distract you both, because your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest at how fast this is moving.

“Mouth stuff,” he replies simply.

It’s simple, dry humor, but you swear he never makes you laugh more than when he catches you off guard with stuff like that. You don’t think anyone else would believe you if you tried to tell them how funny he can be without even trying. The joke manages to diffuse some of your anxiety and you relax back onto the bed, trusting him with whatever he’s about to do. Still, you gasp when his mouth meets your core, and he hums happily against you. You’ve done this with someone once before, but the memory feels clumsy compared to what Din is doing now; his grip tight around your waist and tongue immediately finding the right places. You try not to think about where he’s had the practice, focusing instead on the sensation he’s creating with a simple flick of his tongue.

You start to make noises you don’t think have ever come from you before, unable to help yourself with the sudden assault on your sensitive nerve endings. He pauses from what he’s doing as if struck by a sudden thought, smiling at the way you whimper at the sudden loss of contact.

“Have you ever cum before?” he asks.

“I think so,” you reply, but if you were being completely honest, you’re not sure. And least, not with another person. You’re pretty sure you’ve gotten there on your own. You think. You feel like that’s something you should know for sure.

“You think so?” he repeats, sounding unconvinced. 

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve had, you know, urges, I took care of them, then they were gone.”

He makes a thoughtful sound and ones of his thumbs finds your clit, rubbing a couple of circles before he dips it down to your center to scoop up some of the wetness there to bring back up again. 

“You don’t sound very sure,” he says casually, like he’s not driving you crazy right now with a simple touch. Feeling slightly pathetic, you can only whine, your brain feeling scrambled as his assault on your clit empties it of all coherent thought. “Next time I ask you, I want you to be a little more certain,” he tells you, and without warning dives back in, his tongue taking over from his thumb at a much faster pace. Your back arches off the bed and he slips his free arm across your hips, holding you in place. 

You soon feel pressure at your entrance as he presses a finger carefully against it and in your frenzied state you push forward onto it, forgetting in a moment of desperate need your body’s inexperience with something like that. You’re wet enough that it doesn’t hurt, but it’s still a foreign feeling having something inside of you, and you realize that’s only one finger. Before you can start to imagine how something larger is going to feel, he presses the finger upwards inside of you and hits a spot you’ve never felt before. You cry out, caught completely off guard as the tight feeling in your lower belly breaks and you cum hard against him, hips bucking uncontrollably against his face. He growls against you, but doesn’t stop moving until your hips do. 

“Fuck,” you whine, still panting as he slides his finger out of you and gives you one last lick. Still sensitive, you yelp and jerk back from the sensation, making him chuckle.

“Now you can say you’ve cum,” he tells you, and hell if he doesn’t sound proud of himself for giving you that. 

“Yeah,” you agree, still barely able to form a proper thought. Then one comes to you. You sit up. He’s getting to his feet in front of you and it’s put him at the perfect height for what you have in mind. 

He’s not expecting it when your hand finds his length, giving away his surprise with a sharp intake of breath. You take a moment to guess at his size, thinking once again how it’s going to feel once he’s inside of you, but any thought of pain is completely overridden by the very idea of having him inside you at all.  But one thing at a time – you want to explore a few things first.

“Do you mind if I return the favor?” you ask him. You’re feeling different after your orgasm – feeling a sudden, renewed confidence – and the way his breath hitches as you start to pump him up and down sends a thrill through your body. He doesn’t reply, answering instead with a simple touch as his hands find your head, brushing your hair back from your face. You’ve done this before, too, but unlike your partner’s attempt on you at the time, yours had proven more successful.

You bob your head forward to find him, lips meeting the head of his cock and parting to let it enter. As your tongue laps at its underside, Din drops his head back with a moan that only encourages you further. You take as much of him inside your mouth as you can, letting the salty taste of him hit as close to the back of your throat as you’re comfortable with, and his grip tightens on your head as he fights the urge to buck forward. You’d said to go easy, and he’s mindful of that, but picturing what you must look like right now, face pink and glowing from your orgasm, mouth stuffed with his cock, he wishes he could flick the light on for a second just to see it. You guide your head back and forth, taking in all the sounds he’s making for you, testing particular places just to see what else you can make him do. All the while he continues to stroke your hair, murmuring praise that sounds strained as tries to force the words out, things like, ‘Good girl’ and ‘Yeah, just like that’.

All the praise starts to go to your head though, it seems, as you forget your earlier feelings of humiliation and whisper back, “You like that, daddy?” Then you pick up your pace and have him moaning to the point where he has to stop you. He gently grabs your head, pulling his hips back and plucking himself from your mouth with a slick ‘pop’.

“We’re going to have to stop there, sweet girl, or your going to make me cum.”

You simply look up to where his voice is coming from and make a sad little hum, any self-conscious thoughts or anxiety long gone at the sound of his half-ruined tone, and you find yourself eagerly awaiting the next step, your body begging for further touch. He chuckles at your reaction and leans down to find your lips, capturing them in a searing kiss, both of you groaning as you taste each other. It’s the first kiss you’ve shared with him, and as he moves forward and forces you back onto the bed, you find your legs come up automatically to wrap around him. That’s when you feel him, hard and pressing into your thigh. 

“How do you want to do this?” he asks, as he grabs his length and rubs his tip between your folds to coat himself with your wetness. You moan when he passes over your clit and give yourself a moment to bask in the sensation as he continues to rub over that area. 

“Just go slow,” you tell him, then you feel his cock move down from your clit to your entrance, now that you’ve finally given him permission. He only applies the slightest pressure, letting you get used to each new sensation as he introduces it, but you’re so slick down there that he begins to slip in. You tense, waiting for the sharp sensation you’re sure is coming.

“Relax.” Din’s hips have stilled, and he reaches up in the darkness to run his thumb across your cheek, soothing you. “Deep breaths, okay? I’ll make it feel good for you.”

You nod, and this time he feels the movement against his hand and doesn’t ask you to voice it, instead taking it as his cue to continue on. There’s a momentary sharp, burning sensation deep inside as you feel everything stretch, but as he slowly begins to move his hips, you find it fades more and more with each thrust, your wetness coating him and amplifying your pleasure. You’ve never felt this full before, not in this way, but he’s big enough to be hitting all your best spots at the same time. You’ve never felt this close to cumming this quickly.

“Shit.”

Hearing that single word, he starts to pick up speed and you clutch at whatever part of him you can reach, giving yourself up to the sensation as you feel that electric, tightening sensation starting again in your lower belly.

“Do you think you’re close?” he pants, because he knows he is – dangerously so – but he wants to keep true to his word. He wants to make this experience just as good for you. 

You fail to answer, unable to stop the harsh cries leaving your mouth instead, and you don’t have time to tell him before the feeling breaks inside of you again and you’re pulsing around him. You cry out, louder than before, and this is enough to send him over the edge, too. He slips out at the last moment, and you feel warm bursts of liquid squirt across your stomach.

“Sorry,” he pants, grunting as he braces himself on one hand and then shivers through a couple of aftershocks, “I didn’t— I couldn’t—”

“It’s fine,” you tell him, voice just as breathless. And it is fine. You couldn’t care less about it. Your entire body feels more relaxed than it has in months. You feel spent in the best possible way and right now you’d be fine to just fall into a pile on the sheets and sleep.

He collapses onto the mattress next to you, his body close to yours in the small space, warm and sweaty, and you’re surprised when he slips an arm underneath you to bring you closer. “So, was that okay? Do you feel okay? Sore?”

“Yeah. I mean, no, I’m okay.” The words come out as a few huffs of breath and, still high on endorphins, the noise makes you laugh. 

Din gives you a squeeze at the familiar sound, smiling to himself in the darkness. Then he makes a thoughtful noise.

“What?” you ask.

“It’s nothing. It’s just…You’ve never been in here before.”

“So?” You gaze around in the darkness, thinking it is a little cramped compared to the space you’d made for yourself in the much larger cargo hold, and realize maybe that’s what he’s hinting at.

“I think you should cum here more often.”

“Did you just…?” You sit up to look at him the darkness, never in a million years expecting such a horrible, so very like-you joke to be uttered by the man and he yanks you back down and pulls you close, ignoring the sticky mess he’s made of you.

Then you hear a sound you’re not familiar with, and feel his warm breath against you as he laughs. 

“Din Djarin, that joke was terrible.”

He presses a kiss to the side of your head and heaves a sigh that suggests fast approaching sleep. “I learned from the best.” 

[luminouspoes]

For the ♛ prompts: 43 and/or 48, pretty please? 😊

prompt: “you’re lucky you’re cute”

warnings: fluff...lots and lots of fluff. no pronouns used for reader.

read on ao3 | drabble list

“There’s one thing I hate more than the First Order,” Poe murmurs as you both take in the scene before you: golden floors and walls, people dressed in gaudy outfits that you can’t begin to imagine how they got into, and the sound of slot machines running wild. “Places like this.”

You’re keen to agree as you tug self-consciously at your own outfit. It was a deep red suit and was the least flashy thing you could find to wear. It hugs you nicely, but you’d forgone the tie or ascot that was supposed to go with it and keep the top few buttons undone so you can breathe. 

Meanwhile, beside you, Poe looks - well, not to borrow a page from Maz’s book, but he looks dashing. He’d dragged out the tux he’d worn to that party he’d crashed with Finn and Suralinda back while you were on Ryloth with the others. He looks good in it, but it’s also surreal to see him in something so fancy. You’ve known him for years, and seeing him out of a flight suit or his favored tunic and leather jackets is a mind-trip.

It’s not a bad different though, no....not at all -

You snap your gaze away from him, cheeks warm. It was an annoying different though. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but...all we gotta do is find the central terminal here, let me do my thing, and then we’re out.” You whisper back to him; another reason for your choice of outfit was the set of slicing tools you needed to hide. You couldn’t take BB-8 on the mission with you, he stood out too much and was too easily recognizable, but you weren’t one of the Resistance’s best hackers for nothing.

“Right,” Poe mutters, splaying his hand on the small of your back as you move through the crowd, “In and out.”

You try to focus on the fountain of champagne you pass, or the dazzling chandeliers or even the catchy song that the live band is playing, but instead all you can focus on is the warmth seeping in through the fabric of your suit as Poe continues to guide you along, not dropping his hand from your back.

It’s your own fault really. The only identification you and Connix had time to whip up for the mission was that of a married couple, so the closeness was necessary. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to lack personal space - Poe was a generally affectionate guy, and you enjoyed the attention - but there was something different about this. You were both away from the Resistance, looking like neither of you usually did, hiding behind guises that were married.

“Over there,” Poe’s voice is barely above a whisper, breath fanning along the shell of your ear as he leans in to avoid being heard by anyone. You follow his line of sight and see a doorway just behind where the live band is playing. It isn’t guarded, but it’s going to be difficult to get in without being spotted by anyone - which would raise some questions.

Your gaze slides back over to Poe, eyes raking over his suit, and you remember your cover story. Or maybe it wouldn’t. You offer him your hand with a flourish, “Dance with me, love.”

Poe’s brow creases in confusion, so you shoot him a go with it expression, and he slowly takes your hand. You lead him to the dance floor, just in front of the stage the band is standing on, and turn to face him expectantly. When he doesn’t immediately move, you lean in and whisper, “You do know how to dance, right?”

He almost looks affronted, “Yes, I know how to dance, but -” he cuts himself off, clearing his throat as he finally settles his hands on your waist. He won’t meet your eyes, which is problematic for your plan, but you swear you see his cheeks darken. Maybe it’s a trick of the light? “What is it that you’re thinking of because you’ve got that look on your face.”

You lean back in mock offense, “What look?”

His eyes finally meets yours and oh the way they make you melt: there’s so much softness in the way he’s regarding you, a light twinkling in those dark eyes that reminds you of starlight. “Like you’re about to drag me into trouble.”

“I do not drag you into trouble,” you protest as Poe finally relaxes a little and you begin to more than just sway to the music as the band revs up the tune. Within seconds, you’re circling each other, holding on by your fingertips, never breaking your gaze, “If anything, you drag me into trouble. It’s practically your thing. I don’t engage unless I’m provoked, y’know.”

You both step back into each other’s gravity. Poe’s eyelids are lowered as you stare up at him, chin up as you silently challenge him to argue the fact. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he tells you with a laugh. Your jaw goes slack but before you can say anything more, he’s twirling you away from him in time to the music.

When he pulls you back in, you’re not quite ready for it and you stumble into his chest. He catches you gently, one hand on your waist, the other on your shoulder. Maybe it’s because none of this feels real, but you fix him with a smirk, “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because you and I both know that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told.” 

“Are you saying I’m full of it?” You retort, smiling.

Poe shakes his head, looking heavenward. “What’re you thinking?”

You quickly relay your plan to Poe, chewing nervously on your bottom lip while he takes it in. After a long pause, he nods once, “Alright. If you’re sure about this.”

“I am,” you say, and something burns in the starlight in his eyes.

A few minutes later, the two of you are stumbling through the crowd, laughing and unable to keep each other’s hands off each other. His hand slips inside your jacket, pulling you flush as you walk back towards the door you need, and you begin to question if this really was a good idea because you’re finding it really hard to breathe and your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest -

And then you’re out of view of the dance floor and Poe draws back immediately, leaving you feeling bereft. He looks breathless, but motions at the hallway in an ‘after you’ gesture. You nod shakily, heading off in the direction you assume the control terminal will be. Poe’s one step behind you the entire time, looking behind you every few seconds to make sure no one’s followed you.

The control room is at the end of the hall and the door’s locked. You whip out your set of tools from inside your coat and begin to work on fixing that. It’s so easy you don’t have to think about what you’re doing, muscle memory quickly taking over, and you can’t help but think back to what it was like to have Poe that close, to have been flirting easily with him on the dance floor…

The door slides open with a shick but you don’t put your tools away; you’ll need them to retrieve the data the Resistance needs. You step inside and are surprised to find the room empty. “One locked door is all these guys keep on this stuff?” Poe asks, entering behind you. “With all the credits they’re sitting on?”

You’re already set up at one of the terminals, searching for the records you need. “They probably weren’t expecting their records to get broken into, Poe. Most of their efforts would be centered on a vault...got it!” You quickly transfer the data into a chip and show it to Poe with a flourish, grinning widely. “What’d I say? In and out.”

Poe hums in acknowledgment, offering his hand for you to take. “We’re not out of the woods yet, sweetheart. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” 

“Sweetheart?” You question as he leads you out of the room. He throws you a smile over his shoulder and counters with, “‘Love?’”

You start to reply but you crash into Poe’s back before you can, since he stops abruptly and you hear him mutter, “Dammit.” You can barely get a look around him to catch a glimpse at the approaching guard before he’s pushing you the opposite way, past the records room and further down into the twisting hallway.

Which, of course, leads to a dead end.

“Great,” you say, throwing your hands up. “Any other ideas?”

Poe looks around, but there aren’t any rooms around for you to hide inside. Then he goes still and slowly turns on his heel to face you, expression apologetic. “Just one, but you’re not gonna like it.”

You narrow your eyes, “What are you - oh,” you choke out when he very pointedly looks at your lips. You fix your mouth wordlessly a few times, but the growing noise of the guard’s footsteps snaps you out of your trance, “Do it.”

He crosses to you quickly, but as he moves into your space, Poe hesitates a little. Then, he’s cupping your jaw with one hand and the other is on your hip pulling you close, and his mouth meets yours. 

You slide a hand around his neck, pulling him down closer to you. He guides you backward til your back presses against a wall, and he draws your bottom lip into his mouth. You respond by tugging lightly on his curls, which draws out a low hum from him that sends goosebumps along your arms. He squeezes your hip, fingertips meeting bare skin from where your button-up had ridden up from stretching up to meet him, as he aligns your bodies better together -

“Hey! This corridor’s off-limits, find somewhere else to do that.”

You break apart, but Poe doesn’t step back from you as he twists to nod at the guard, “Sorry, man. We’ll just finish this up back on our ship. C’mon, sweetheart.” His voice is rough as he proffers you his hand. You take it, managing to fix the guard with what you hope is an apologetic smile.

As you dart around the corner, you hear the guard mutter something about lovebirds, but you do your best to ignore it, even though all you can focus on is how seconds ago, you were kissing your best friend - and how real it felt.

Without meeting his gaze, you say, “You were wrong, by the way. I did like it.”

[scriptaed]

bygones of the sun. 07 (m)

genre: angst/fluff/smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

pairing: reader x hoseok;

length: 6.7k;

synopsis: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

Ten bucks for club dues and fifteen bucks for transportation plus utility fees and you’d think boot camps really are as luxurious and happy-go-lucky as movies paint them out to be. Unfortunately for you and your recently trance filled state, confronting the face of reality only comes colliding into you just a couple of weeks since you last saw him. Despite the malicious side effects of reading into rumors, people really aren’t lying when they say the dance club’s boot camp is synonymous to a “living hell disguised as a getaway paradise by scheming club officers.” While you aren’t attending as an official member of the team, and therefore forfeiting the rights to proclaim the overbearing stress and practices that are soon to come, there are certain other issues weighing your mind.

First off, paying twenty five bucks just to see this one despicably sly and retired dancer resume his role as the captain is all too pricey of a fee, because even you're not sure why you’ve invested so much time and effort into someone who only sees you as his next victim of his black book filled with female contacts. You thought you had gotten over him, but the mere fact that you’re attending despite claiming to be “dragged into this” is a direct opposition of such a foolish belief, or better yet, desire. But such questions become trivial when the first obstacle you face of the four days long journey ahead of you is simply tossing two overly stuffed duffel bags into the luggage compartment of the towering, chic black and white charter bus.

Struggling to weave your way through the bustling crowds of fellow trip attendees, consisting of mainly guys and specks of girls, you puff in a deep breath before picking up one bag on each hand and hustling through with all your might and diminishing courtesy. The task proves to be worse in terms of pleasantness than labor, for squatting down and searching for the smallest of a few square feet of free space while squinting your eyes against the smoke of hot, steaming gas and water vapor released from the roaring engine.

“Do you need help?”

The familiar honey-like base yet raspy edge to his voice strikes a sense of panic against your thumping chest. Is this a rise of excitement or is this a fight-or-flight defense mechanism against the threat before you?

Hesitantly turning around, you crane your neck to peer up at the one and only boy towering over you from above, an effort made in vain as all you manage to catch sight of is the black silhouette of his figure and the smug signature look of his all underneath the blinding sunlight his head so conveniently blocks.

“Or are you going to ogle and drool all over me while standing in everyone’s way?” Hoseok chortles. Your eyes follow his every move, too taken aback to move or respond. It’s been at least two weeks since you had last seen him and two weeks since… that had happened. Your lips burn and your first immediate response is to smack your hands right over them as if to cover the beet red of your cheeks and lips… or largely to prevent future advances. Hoseok only scoffs in response, smirking and squatting midway to strategically whisper into your ears, “we have lots of time to do that in the camp later, if you so want.”

“Excuse me?” you lean back as far as you can and gape, but he only squats down to your level before grabbing the bags of luggage from your hand.

“Don’t worry, I got this. After going through this entire process at least six times by now, you just gotta learn to…” his words are cut off by huffs as he forcefully pushes and tosses and squeezes bags further into the compartment before tossing his and your own along with them. “There,” he brushes his hands, “I don’t know what Jimin has been teaching them, but the new recruits seem to be awfully spoiled taking up so much space. This is boot camp, not vacation.”

“Thanks,” you say after chuckling.

“Is your gratitude exchangeable?” he asks, turning to cock his head to the side and revealing the structure of his jawline; and as much as you’d like to deny it, it takes every ounce of sheer willpower not to stare at him in awe.

“For what?” you’re barely able to utter. Hoseok stares at you in silence, dark eyes eating and drinking you up with each passing second, and that’s all you need to get the hint. The knot in your throat catches your silent gasp as you avert your gaze to the ground, cheeks burning, heart skipping, and lips throbbing. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”

“Oh, my bad, I forgot. Can’t corrupt my prude little princess just yet,” he muses, and you can just feel his sultry gaze piercing straight through your temple as he flashes you his charming damn crooked grin. Hoseok cocks his head in the direction behind the crowds of incoming baggage bearers, “go on. Your friends are waiting for you. I gotta help out here.”

“You sure you don't need any help?” you offer, standing upright to brush the invisible dirt off your lap.

Hoseok glances up at you and scoffs with the most teasing smirk possible. “Are you implying you're willing to help me? I'm thankful for the offer, your Grace, but I don't think standing there and checking me out is going to do us much good,” he laughs and throws a quick glimpse over at your friends with a lopsided smile. “I know I said this is camp and all, but you should at least have some fun now before it's too late.”

“...okay,” you hesitantly mumble, giving him a small wave and stumbling through the crowd once again to join your friends spectating from afar.

“What took you so long?” Junghwa ponders aloud, a small pout resting on her bottom lip as her foot impatiently taps against the floor.

“Sorry, the luggage compartment was almost full—”

“—wait, wait, wait, Y/N… was that Hoseok who helped you with your luggage over there?” Hani interjects with wide eyes, going on her tiptoes to confirm the back figure of said man just a few strides ahead. Not even a split second after, Junghwa’s eyes pop and the both of them turn in sync to stare at you with gaping mouths.

“No way,” Junghwa drawls. “Jung Hoseok? The ex dance captain? Your long time crush—”

“—keep your voice down,” you hiss before timidly glancing at the ground and twiddling your thumbs. “...maybe.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually doing this, Y/N,” Hani utters, the drop of her jaw and the void in her voice conveying just how shocked she is from your sudden course of actions.

“I know right,” Junghwa jumps in, hooking her arms around Hani’s crossed ones. “I mean, dance camp? Basically a trip? With Hoseok?”

“It’s not only with Hoseok,” you articulate. “There’s at least twenty other people going with us.”

“Uhuh, right, but you won’t be paying attention to any of them except Hoseok, so it’s basically the same thing. How did you even manage to convince him to return?” Junghwa exasperates, a series of blabbering shortly follows before you hurriedly clasp your hand over her running mouth to muffle her words.

A few seconds of incoherent mumbling goes by before Hani taps you on the shoulder and chuckles, “okay, Y/N, any second longer and she’s going to faint.”

As much as most normal, rational human beings would opt for breathing through the nose than the mouth in situations like this, whether out of instincts or simple common sense, it’s also painfully obvious that Junghwa is unlike that of any other. All that’s on Junghwa’s head at the moment is getting her thoughts said and heard, and not even her very own being can top that priority. So pressing your lips, you figure Hani’s right—like always—and the well being of your best friend is more important than answering a few questions. Reluctantly and ever so slowly, you retract your hands from her lips, the absence of her voice’s vibration immediately leaving your hand empty of sensation.

The second your hands unclasp from her mouth, thus letting her words loose, Junghwa desperately gasps for air before, unsurprisingly, blurting out yet again in an all too ear-spitting manner, “or is he returning because of you? Did you make some sort of deal with him?! Y/N, why didn’t you tell us? You need to tell us—”

“—shh,” you hiss, immediately and strategically placing your middle finger against your lips to hush her back into silence. Eyes wide and alert, you hastily glimpse around to check for any possible bystanders dropping in on your conversation. When all coast is clear, everyone too busy chatting away with their friends and loading their additional luggage onto the bus, you shoot a death stare straight at your friend who gulps in terror. “Are you trying to turn this trip into hell before it even starts? I know it might come as a surprise to you, but I don’t want anyone spreading rumors about Hoseok and I!”

“I know,” Junghwa pouts and grabs ahold of your hand only to sway it side to side, as if to win you over with pity. “I’m sorry… I won’t do it again. I promise!”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“I swear I’m serious! Curiosity just got the best of me this time around,” Junghwa cheekily smiles. “If someone happens to hear us, I’ll treat you out for dinner. Better yet, I’ll confess to Jimin or anyone you want and make a fool of myself, yeah? Mm?”

“You don’t even like Jimin!” you refute, appalled by her lackluster offer.

“Oh, you know how she is, Y/N,” Hani laughs, rolling her eyes. “At least no one has ever really paid attention to her yelling. Plus, I really am curious as to why he’s back. How did you convince him to join today? I thought he always stayed at least a mile’s distance from anything related to dance.”

A hard thump hammers against your chest when the answer to her question echoes in your mind and rests on the tips of your tongue. A kiss. You exchanged his attendance this morning for a kiss; but there’s no way you’re going tell your friends something as embarrassing as that, especially seeing how they had taken the news of your previous dates with Hoseok. However, judging by how fervently your lips burn of the apparition of his soft lips pressed up against them, you convince yourself you’ve already given the answer away.

“Hey, we’re just about done here,” a familiar voice melts in your left ear like honey as a heavy arm swings over your shoulder and pulls you into his side. You glance up to find Hoseok raising a brow at your two friends, “oh, I’m sorry, but I don’t quite seem to recognize…”

His words trail off, and for some reason you think you can see a flash of the old dance captain resuming his courteous, welcoming ways; hence, unbeknownst to you, a smile gradually stretches across your lips. While you’re stuck in your reverie, Junghwa and Hani’s head snap towards each other, eyes widening and words failing to leave their gaping mouths as looks of admiration and awe oozes from the glistening windows to their souls. The ogling eyes of theirs nearly evokes a snort from the back of your throat, because finally, finally they can first-handedly witness the melting charms of Hoseok and actually understand the reasonings behind your recent irrational actions. But then their eyes dart to you once again, lips formulating silent threats and teeth gritting like a desperate call for your help.

As much as you’d like to blame your lack of a response to your friends’ plees solely on your short-lived trance of catching the returning glimpse of your long-time crush, a part of you just knows the truth lies in the satisfaction of observing the petrified look on your friends’ faces. Is this the look you had plastered all over your face when they made fun of you for your crush on Hoseok? Was this the mirror image of your state of panic when Junghwa nearly exposes your “relationship” with Hoseok to the entire class? Just recalling the pain your friends had put you through endorses you to sit back and relax as you watch karma do its work.

“...new recruits?” Hoseok chirps after a few seconds of silence, quirking a brow and flashing a clueless, lopsided grin. “Did Jimin actually manage to acquire new members while I was gone?”

“Actually no,” Hani quickly blurts, shaking her head violently, “we’re not a part of the club.”

“Oh?” Hoseok cocks his head, glimpsing at you in confusion before returning his eyes to Hani when you only stand in silent amusement. “Sorry, my bad. So what are you two lovely ladies doing here then?”

Did he just call them lovely? In front of you? With his arm wrapped around you and his recently numerous flirtatious advances on you? Even though you have no idea why you’re so irked in the first place, there’s something about his smooth, charismatic ways that tugs at your heartstrings in the rather painful manner for once.

Unbeknownst to you, a twitch of your face is evident enough to your friends and Hoseok for them to jolt in place, petrified over whatever fiery hazard scorches from within the vicinity of your glare. And unlike your friends who take a step back and glimpse at each other for help, the boy beside you only pulls you in even tighter until your head has nowhere to rest but against the calm, warm beats of his chest.

“Uh,” Junghwa utters, eyes popping when she notices Hoseok’s firming embrace.

“We’re just sending Y/N off,” Hani finishes her friend’s sentence and averts her panicked gaze back to you as you narrow your eyes at the audacity of Hoseok.

“Well that’s nice of you two. So that’s where Y/N gets it from,” he muses before continuing, “are you sure you two don’t wanna join? I’m sure we have enough space left to accommodate for you two.”

“Oh no, we couldn’t—

“—well actually, we wanted to but Y/N forced us not to because she was ‘embarrassed’ or something—ow!” Hani nudges her elbow straight into Junghwa before she can mutter another word.

Hoseok turns his head at you with warmth radiating from his dark chocolate orbs and the most suggestive of smirks tugging on the corner of his lips, “and what does that mean, Y/N?”

You freeze. You don’t know why or how or when, but for some reason your body’s immediate response to his gaze locking with yours is to drop everything and freeze. Heart panicking, hammering, and nearly stopping, you completely forget your friends are watching just a few feet away—

“—we didn’t bring any money for club dues and trip fees,” Hani quickly comes to the rescue, shooting you a subtle smile, and for once, you’re actually glad that your friends are here to support you in the wake of Hoseok’s impact.

“Oh, that’s fine. Any friend of Y/N’s is welcome with or without dues. I’d rather gain two new recruits than lose the opportunity to because of a few bucks or so. Plus, our club has more than enough funds to cover your fees for now,” he quips, cleverly interjecting before Hani can provide a rebuttal, “you don’t really think I’m letting you off the hook, do you? Nah, what kind of a captain would I be if I did that? You can pay me back afterwards.”

“That’s very kind of you, but…”

“...or your friend here can pay for you,” Hoseok smiles smugly, pointing his thumb to the side and at you. Traumatizing your lips and paying twenty five bucks to humiliate yourself for the sole sake of potentially watching Hoseok dance again were already too high of stakes to pay in the first place, so all you can do in response to his absurd suggestion is gawk at him in disapproval.

“She’s the last person who would do that,” Junghwa grumbles.

Hani nudges Junghwa once again, “I’m sure Y/N is going to have lots of fun at camp… although I do worry if she’s going to be alone—”

“—I’ll be fine—”

“—don’t worry, she’s in good hands,” Hoseok cuts in with a wide grin, arm firmly gripping your right shoulder and pulling you even closer into him.

“...what do you think you’re doing?” you finally mutter through gritted teeth. Your friends hesitantly exchange and dart glances between the two of you as they watch the narrowing of your death stare.

“What? This?” he pats his hands on the side of your arm and pulls you in once again, cocking a brow at you to feign innocence. “You didn’t seem to mind skinship last week? Or are you shy about PDA?”

Your jaw slacks open in sync with your friends. Did he really just say that? In front of your friends? So much for having fun and saving the embarrassment for later on in the trip.

“I don’t know what you’re saying…” you mutter, snaking your hand behind his back and tugging on his shirt to signal for him to stop… which he doesn’t.

“Oh c’mon, you couldn’t have forgotten already, Y/N!” Hoseok chimes, and his grin grows wider and wider as he watches your cheeks burn a brighter shade of red by the second. He cocks his head and begins listing the events of that night which still burns so fervently in the back of your mind, “fridge… bet… tabletop… ki...tchen.”

The second to last syllable nearly evokes a heart attack from your already weak condition, thousands of needles piercing straight through your chest as you glimpse at your friends; luckily for you, it seems like they haven’t caught onto anything yet, for they’ve never worn a more confused look than they are now.

Hoseok only grins in amusement before proceeding to his grand finale, “ki—hey!”

The smug look on his face is wiped and replaced by utter shock. He gawks at you with eyes wide and mouth open the second his brain registers the fact that you had just pinched him as hard as you could from the back.

“...kinda have to go help out Jimin and the others. Yeah, that’s what I meant to say,” Hoseok chuckles after a few seconds of bewilderment, turning to flash one last smile at your friends and waving them goodbye. “I’m sorry but I don’t believe I ever got your names…?”

Your two friends just stand there in what you’re unsure to make out as either fright for the scene that just played before them or in awe over the radiant sight of his killer smile—or perhaps, a mix of both. Hani’s slouched shoulders suddenly straighten upright the second she snaps back into reality and checks up on her friend, whom had failed to escape her trance. She stutters, “H-Hani, I’m Hani, a-and this is Junghwa.”

“Right. It was nice meeting you, Hani and Junghwa. I promise you I’ll look over Y/N, even if she refuses to accept my help and assaults me with acts of violence. And remember, I know it might be boring without me as the captain, but it’s never too late to join the club,” he sing-songs, voice velvety and soothing like always but his last statement leaves you frowning even more so than the former.

He’s resuming his role as the dance captain, and yet at the same time he’s rejecting the permanence of such a task and even foreseeing his absence in the near future. You know you’ve been too greedy and too needy for the fulfillment of your dreams, but somehow along the way you had lost sight of reality. While the past Hoseok brought you into cloud nine where things like stress and school were of trivial matters, the present Hoseok slams you straight back into reality where not everything always goes your way.

Only a comforting, firm pat against your right shoulder is enough to bring you out of your daze as you glance up to find Hoseok making his way to the bus with his front half turned towards you. “I know it’s hard to contain your excitement, but at least try to spend a few more minutes with your friends, Y/N. Don’t take too long though, or even I’ll have to leave you behind,” he quips, calling out to you before winking and biting his lips—as if trying to hint at something, no, you just know he’s hinting at that very thing which still doesn’t fail to flood heat into your cheeks—and turning his back on you to jog up the steps, disappearing behind the black tinted windows of the bus.

“I hate the living hell out of him. I hate the living hell out of him. I hate the living hell out of him,” you repeat, reminding yourself once again of the treacherous bet you had so regrettably made. Sighing, you turn to face your friends once again only to jump in place out of shock when your friends glare at you with the most dead eyes and stern frowns.

“Girl, you have a lot to explain when you get back,” Junghwa crosses her arms.

“...yeah, I know,” you timidly laugh, reclining as you scratched the back of your head when Junghwa continues to narrow her eyes at you for your lack of an explanation.

“That guy’s dangerous. I knew he was good looking, but wow, in person?” Hani shakes her head. “He knows his ways with words. Charming. Too charming. You better be careful, Y/N.”

“...yeah, don’t worry. I’m not a fool. I might’ve liked him before, but there’s no way I still do with him being like that now,” you mutter, and out of the blue, your only source of transportation roars in place behind you as if to remind you of the quickly approaching departure time. “Okay, I really have to go now.”

Despite how hard Junghwa had been staring at you, she does a complete 180 turn when she pounces on you along with Hani, “I’ll miss you so much. Don’t go! Don’t leave me for a man! But if you have to, at least tell us what happens!”

“Make sure to call us every night, okay?” Hani says before quickly adding, “and be careful! Don’t ever leave yourself alone with a boy like Hoseok!”

“Alright, alright,” you chuckle, words muffled as they nearly choke you in the bear hug. After what seems like eternity, you finally retract yourself from your nearly sobbing friends and wave them one last goodbye before running up the steps into the bus and away from the partially cloudy forecast of the morning.

Now the real torture begins; it's like highschool all over again—finding an empty seat without looking like a longer or bring too out of place.

“Sorry, this seat is reserved for someone,” you hear someone say in the deepest yet softest of tones.

Glancing over to the very back of the bus where the courteous voice had struck you as familiar, you find a girl apologizing to Hoseok before scampering forward to the seat next to whom you presume to be her friend. Word must've gotten out that the Jung Hoseok was making his return to dance with this camping trip, because whether for the better or worse, it doesn't take very long for the next girl to approach him.

“Oh my God, I can't believe you're actually back! I've always loved watching you practice!” the petite girl exclaims.

Hoseok presses a smile in response, “thanks.”

“Um… can I sit here if this seat isn't taken?”

“Sorry but I'm actually saving this seat for my friend,” he softly repeats himself, craning his neck up to give one last apologetic smile from his seat and to the standing girl.

Tch, lucky him, you scoff to yourself, being Mr. Popular With Girls must have its perks in social gatherings like this. People like you, on the other hand, have to deal with being on the worse end of the stick.

So you shuffle your way through the chattering cliques seated primarily at the front, never-minding the glaring open seat next to Hoseok as you make your way to just a few rows ahead of his in a successful search for another seat; but before you're even able to sigh in relief and plop into your temporary home for the next six hours, a hand clasps onto the crook of your elbows and grips your arm firmly enough to pull you into another seat. A yelp leaves your lips as you stumble backwards in a vain attempt to regain your footing, and before you even know it, you find yourself in another seat at the very back of the bus.

“This seat is actually reserved for you,” the one and only Hoseok coos, and your heart undeniably skips despite the roll of your eyes.

“I didn't ask for you to reserve it for me.”

“Ouch,” Hoseok winces, “was that you rejecting me or you rejecting my friendly gesture?”

You shrug in a fruitless attempt to suppress your smile, “perhaps both. No, definitely both.”

“Then what was that supposed to mean?” Hoseok gasps and places a hand over his chest. “Are you leading me on?”

You scoff, “what was what supposed to mean?”

“You know,” he leans in to whisper, “our ki—”

“— alright fine, I'll sit with you,” you interject and slump into your permanent seat with a loud sigh. “Now can you stop bringing that up.”

“To think that you'd play me like this... you're breaking my heart, Y/N,” he fakes a whimper and frowns, shaking his head. “But whatever makes you happy.”

You snort at the irony of his words. Who's the one playing who? “Oh, quit it, will you? If being around me hurts you so much, then why aren't you sitting with Jimin and them?”

“Actually, there's nothing I like better than spending my time with you. See, I'll prove it to you.” Without warning, Hoseok’s right engulfs your left in and places it straight against his chest. You're caught off guard, jumping in your seat and rocketing your pulse at an all time high, but what surprises you most is the irregular pacing of the thumps against your hand. Maybe it's just you and your hopeless imaginations, but for even a split second you'd like to think he's being the genuine self he used to be for once. “You know, I actually prefer sitting alone on these trips.”

“...why?” you're barely able to utter when you realize your hand is still trapped between the warmth of his chest and his hand.

“I like listening to my own music and going through the routines in my head. It helps me focus for camp,” he explains before turning to wink at you, “but I'll make an exception for you.”

“Why…?”

It must be something about the way his hand holds yours so firmly in place or the way you're just practically melting in the gaze of his warm brown eyes, because a question you already know the answer to slips right through your lips. He had promised your friends to take good care of you, didn't he? He had seen you wandering through the crowd and bus like some lost child, didn't he? Man, you really must have appeared to be quite pathetic enough for him to reach out to you like this. So with your eyes down at the ground and your ears shut, you prepare for the embarrassment ahead of you.

“Didn't I just explain it to you?” Hoseok says lowly, and you glance up in curiosity. Your chest constricts when your eyes trail up to meet his. Your insides melt at the sight of his soft, lopsided smile, and you can't help but mentally squeal when you realize that his unmoving gaze has been observing you all this time. Then he makes his final blow, “I like being next to you.”

Pressing your lips into what seems to be a half smile half frown, you slowly retract your hands from his and into your lap before turning to face straight forward where Hoseok is no where in sight. But despite your efforts to keep your pulse under control, there's really nothing you can do to stop your heart from nearly jumping out of your chest and prevent the adrenaline from running through your wrist to your stomach to your legs; for the rest of the ride, you find yourself distracted in one way or another.

First, you somehow find yourself sharing an earbud with Hoseok. He shares his favorite playlist of tracks to freestyle to, humming and counting to the beats, and even goes as far as to show you the tracks he plans to share with Jimin to use for the upcoming showcase. It's silly for you to extrapolate any meaning beyond the simple sharing of an earbud for the sole sake of killing time, yet you can't help but acknowledge the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach when you steal glimpses of your old crush as he walks you through the technicalities of a routine. He drones on and on for hours about a world close to him, a world of flow and deep appreciation which nearly no one but him could reach, however, even sitting there and being forced to listen to this boy who never ceases to tease you is enough to make this entire trip before it even begins. There’s something about the way passion just oozes from his eyes as he talks about the love of his life reminds you that this is the boy you fell for.

The second thing that keeps you on your toes is when you suddenly find yourself draped in his oversized sweater. It’s an all too familiar scene, a scene that has occurred one too many times, but it’s not like you had wanted it or hoped for it to happen… did you? Having forgotten how cold buses tend to keep the temperatures at, you had regrettably opted to stuff your one and only jacket into your bags—now thrown several dozens of feet under you—and unknowingly put yourself in this situation. 

While everyone around you continued to chatter and laugh at the most disruptive of volumes amongst themselves, completely undisturbed for they had jackets to protect them from the blasting AC, you were suffering in your chair trying to keep yourself from shivering and exposing yourself to the watchful Hoseok; but alas, he was and is always able to see right through you. Seeing you curled up into a ball, you had heard Hoseok half snorting half chuckling before removing his hoodie in one swift motion and plopping it straight onto your head. 

The sudden warmth of his worn sweatshirt resonates off your freezing cheeks, your bare nape of the neck, and down your shuddering back, but those newfound comforts aren’t enough to keep you from turning around to frown at him with furrowed brows questioning the intent behind such actions. He just smiles that smug smile of his before patting your head and remarking, “I don’t know if you’re actually cold or if you’re acting out to steal another one of my sweaters again, but you should put it on before you freeze to death. Can’t have any casualties under my watch, especially not you.”

The third and last thing you remember from the long bus ride, six hours of pain that for some reason you wish could’ve lasted forever, is the intoxicating scent of him radiating from the sweater engulfing you from within. Reclining in your seat, the collar of his sweater rises just enough to cover your neck, lips, and tip of your nose from the harsh winds circulating throughout the bus, but burying your nose in the inside of his cotton sweater only magnifies his clean, spice cologne mixed with the scent of home. You can’t believe you actually accepted his offer, but what petrifies you even more is the fact that you might just pass out right in front of Hoseok. As if witnessing the return of the ex dance captain isn’t enough, sitting right next to him with your arms brushed against his and an ear sharing the same set of headphones while wearing and drowning yourself in his scent is like the ultimate blow against your weak heart.

Subconsciously, you mumble aloud—whether to yourself or to Hoseok, you don’t know—and squeeze your heavy eyelids shut to black out everything around you, “I feel really light-headed for some reason…”

You can’t see him with your eyes closed, but the shuffling beside you allows you to envision him scooting closer and leaning forward to check up on you with worry plastered all over the frown on his face. “Are you okay? Are you still cold? Or do you need to take some medicine?”

“No, I’m fine. I just need to… take a nap—hey,” you nearly yelp when you feel his rough, warm hand cupping your right cheek to gently push your head onto his shoulders. Your eyes shoot wide open and your heart rate escalates as you scan through the bus for any witnesses. Finally, when all coast is clear, you hiss, “what’re you doing?”

“Go ahead. Nap,” he instructs, patting your cheek before leaning his own head against the top of yours. “Don’t worry, we’re in the back. No one’s going to see.”

Even in the blizzard that is the blasting AC, your cheeks never fail to burn a bright shade of red as every inch of contact between your body and his begins to flush of heat and thrill. You want to pull away, to deny the indisputable comfort of his shoulders, but you’re simply too tired to argue. So before you know it, pitch blackness surrounds you and the yells of the others drown into the background where the sound of Hoseok’s counting and humming echoes akin to that of the night where you had first introduced yourself to Hoseok long ago.

-

You are dreaming, right?

No, this must be a dream; because the very first thing your still blurry, half-asleep mind comes to register—that is, after gathering your bags and settling into your temporary room before leaving for the welcoming event like a zombie—is the fact that the Jung Hoseok is standing in front of the dance studio and leading tonight’s practice.

The studio lights hanging from the high ceilings above give off warm, yellow edges to your already blurry vision. The cleanly waxed wooden floor squeaks with every sharp step of his as he gives a quick demonstration to the daily stretching routine every member must undergo before practice. Decked out in the all too familiar, albeit retired, attire of his—black sweater, black joggers, and black pair of sleek sneakers with the occasional headband he had opted out of tonight—you simply can’t believe your eyes. This is everything you’ve been dreaming for. You just want to see him dance again, and here he is… closer to dancing than he has ever been in the last year.

It’s all too surreal. Really, your gut instincts tell you this is all too surreal to believe in.

“I know this isn’t the exciting stuff I’m sure everyone of you came here for,” he sarcastically remarks, and you wonder if he’s well aware of the real reason for the spike of female recruits attending this camp for the sake of meeting him, “but it’s important that you learn how to properly stretch and prepare your body for the impact that comes with dancing.”

“How long are we going to be stretching, Hoseok?” a girl whines.

It takes everything in you not to scowl at the girl for her interjection. While you’ve risked everything from your dignity to your sanity to get to experience this first-hand, she’s piggybacking off of your efforts only to threaten the slim opportunity that you’ll even get to see Hoseok dance again in the first place.

Hoseok continues stretching, neither affected nor amused by her remark before lowly stating, “a few minutes goes a long way.”

“Yeah, but we want to dance,” a boy calls out.

“We want to see you dance,” another girl adds.

God, any second longer now and you swear you’re going to cuss them out; do they want to see him dance or not?

“You won’t be saying that when you pull a muscle,” Hoseok simply states, switching to stretch his other leg before shooting a stern look at the rows and columns of students lined up and following his every move. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him more irked than this, because a chill runs down your spine the second you find the darkening of his eyes settling on one particular girl only to threaten and etch his next two words into the back of her mind for the rest of eternity, “trust me.”

You figure dance practice really must be a serious matter to him, because you’ve never seen him go so long without cracking a joke or even comforting a student he had accidentally rebuked—which is odd now that you think about it, since that’s the exact opposite of what he had been known for back in his days as the captain; but maybe you just didn’t know him well enough in the past, perhaps his passion for dance is much stronger and takes a much more different approach than you had observed on the surface level.

It’s not exactly a turn-off per say, because you do find his passion honorable in every way, but there’s something about the frown on his ever-so-slightly downturned lips and the crease between his brows that tells you something is off. Does he actually despise dance as much as he had claimed? Your mind wanders off wondering if bringing him here is the right decision after all.

“Y/N, if you want to see me dance, then you better not space out.”

You’re thrown straight out of your trance when your head snaps up to find Hoseok staring straight at you.

“We’re on the right leg now,” he presses a smile, cocking his head at the fact that you’re still stretching your left arm. Your entire face turns red as you hastily plop yourself down to the ground and stretch your left before your right leg out in front of you. Hoseok only snorts, “alright, because of Y/N, we’re just going to hand this off to Jimin to teach you the choreo now. I have something else to do.”

“What?!”

“No, you can’t do that!”

“You promised you’d be leading tonight’s session!”

A dozen protests come tumbling from the students, a majority of them being female fans, but then all eyes start glaring at you as if you’re the actual reason Hoseok is skipping out on the actual dance portion of the practice. You nearly jump in your seat, wanting to dig a hole for you to hide yourself in when everyone throws you a few death stares. To be honest, you’re completely satisfied with seeing Hoseok even associating himself with the dance club right now, but it seems like others had a separate standard of satisfaction than you.

Hoseok intently observes the scene playing out between you and the girls before clearing his throat and sighing, “on second thought, I have a few minutes to spare.”

You can hear a collective gasp echo throughout the room. A loud cheer then erupts, and you actually find yourself smiling at his announcement despite being the most hated person in the room for a split second.

“But I’m only introducing the simple parts tonight,” he adds and a mixed reaction filled with cheers and whimpers follow shortly afterwards.

Was he going out of his way to indulge in an activity you know he’s been avoiding all too well in order to save you from the others? Or was he doing this because he genuinely had a change of heart? You figure the questions don’t matter at this point, because you’re beyond ecstatic. You might not agree in the methods others had attempted to utilize in pushing him back into his role as the captain, but you do agree in terms of the end goal point. Just seeing him lead a group through stretches is enough to make this entire trip, but seeing him lead a group through actual routines and choreographs? You think you’re on cloud nine. You’re selfish for pushing him into something he claims to despise to the very bone, but after calling you out and teasing you in front of everyone, you like to think you deserve at least this.

You just want to see him dance again, and nothing else matters but that.

-

Hoseok was serious when he said he was only teaching the most simple of choreographs, because even you were able to get through it all without tripping or falling or spacing out like you usually would. After just five minutes or so, he was prepared to switch out with Jimin when Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook ultimately decided on ending the first day of practice early and heading off to dinner.

So here you are, somehow finding yourself seated across where Hoseok had sat just a few minutes prior before excusing himself from the table and next to the rest of his old group of friends.

“Where did Hoseok go?” Jungkook finally questions, stuffing himself with one or two potstickers.

“Probably went back to his room,” Jimin shrugs. “He doesn’t seem to be in a good mood today.”

“Do you know why…?” you hesitantly ask and finish the last speck of food on your now empty plate.

“No idea,” the boy you learn to be Namjoon quips. “Maybe he’s just tired and not used to camp anymore.”

“Maybe,” you mumble, pursing your lips when the image of the irritated look on Hoseok’s face before he left dinner early. Placing your plate and utensil onto the table, you push your chair back and stand upright, “I think I’m going to head back to my room now.”

“Already?” Jimin’s eyes widen, neck craning to look up at you in surprise.

“Yeah, my legs are already so sore from practice.”

“You know we have a complimentary pass to the spa at this resort, right?” Taehyung adds.

“Oh?” you’re genuinely intrigued by the idea of soaking in a hot tub after hours of being drenched in sweat.

“Yeah, feel free to use that if you’d like,” Jimin grins. “I’d go now before everyone heads there after dinner.”

“Alright, thanks. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, then!” you wave them goodbye before skipping off to your room to change into your bathing suit and happily scampering to the paradise that waits for you at the spa…

...unfortunately for you, that paradise doesn’t turn out to be quite what you had envisioned it to be, for the fact that it’s a public spa and not a private one reserved for you hits you right in the face when you see him sitting right there in the pool of water in front of you.

“It seems like fate really wants us to be together,” Hoseok quips, the absence of playfulness and effort in his usual teasing raising a question of worry from you once again.

“Psh, as if,” you scoff, turning around and ready to march off in the other direction if he hadn’t interjected.

“It’s okay, I’ll leave and you can stay if you’re that shy about seeing me half naked,” he rises from the water, and your mind goes completely blank when they register his words.

You weren’t even thinking about seeing his bare chest, but now that he’s mentioned it, that’s all your eyes can even see. His abdomens are as toned and defined as you had imagined them to be for an ex-dancer, and they’re just as tan and smooth as honey which matches the tone of his sun-kissed skin. You don’t know if it’s the steam of the water which causes your cheeks to burn for the hundredth time today, but something about the accuracy in his statement challenges you to rebuke his claims.

So instead of denying nor accepting his offer, you plop down into the euphoric heat of the water and submerge yourself until your chin hits the surface of the water. “No, it’s fine. You can stay or leave. It doesn’t matter to me because your body is the last thing I’m thinking about.”

“Really? Doesn’t seem like it when you just stared at me for a good minute or two,” Hoseok coos, sitting back down with his arms resting on either side of the circular pool. “So, what you up to?”

“Sitting in here and trying to get a good hour of relaxation for once.”

“Whoa, my bad,” he raises his hands defensively with a slight chuckle. “Sassy as always, I see.”

You know you said you wanted an hour of relaxation, but the minutes of silence that follows shortly after is deafening. It’s odd for it to be so quiet around Hoseok, the Jung Hoseok who always teased you to your nerves’ ends. Something is most definitely odd about tonight. You don’t know when it started or how it started, but it’s the things that he chooses not to partake in rather than partake in that startles you. Maybe tonight he had started to dance again, but there are countless other things he had sacrificed in return.

He’s no longer as lively, playful, and easy going as he used to be. While the past Hoseok had been a combination of all these traits even with the passion and dedication for dance, this is yet another reminder to you that this isn’t the same boy you had loved; but even so, even if this person isn’t the one you so wish for the return of, you can’t help but worry for the boy you’ve actually come to know.

“...I’m happy to see you dancing again,” you finally say. Hoseok lowers his head and gaze from the night sky to look at you—neither surprised nor intrigued, just empty. Your brows furrow at the lack of a reaction and you quickly add, “is something wrong?”

“What makes you ask that?” the monotonous tone in his voice only pushes you further.

“Just answer the question. You’re acting… strange... today. Ever since practice,” you shake your head and frown. “Is it because of dancing? Should I not have forced you to come?”

“You didn’t force me to come. You didn’t force me to do anything,” he says before looking off to the side; the harsh edge in his voice tugs at you in the most aching way you had never known to be possible with someone like the current Hoseok.

“Fine, if you’re gonna be like that, then let’s play a game. You like games, don’t you? That’s the only way I can ever get you to talk or open up or do anything,” you retort and Hoseok only raises a brow. “We’ll take turns asking each other questions. If the other fails to answer to our satisfaction, and you have to be honest, then we get to do whatever we want with the other.”

“Y/N wants to play games? Am I dreaming?” Hoseok cocks a brow.

“Trust me, I feel like I’m the one dreaming. It’s not like I want to play games, especially not with you, but it seems like it’s the only way I can get you to talk,” you say, shaking your head. “Okay, I’ll start first then. Tell me what’s going on. Why are you so upset? Is it something that I did?”

“That’s more than one question, Y/N.”

“Okay, fine,” you scoff. “Did I do something to upset you?”

“No,” he simply answers, eyes looking straight at you before adding more to complete his answer, “well, maybe a little. I don’t know how I can answer that accurately when even I’m not sure. You’re not the main reason, but now that you have become a part of the reason, I guess it only adds to the fire.”

That’s the most vague answer you had ever heard in your life, but to be fair, you had only asked him whether or not you had done something to upset him. He isn’t obligated to answer what you had done, and plus, the intense look in his eyes warns you to better play by the rules.

“Alright, fine. Good enough. You pass. Your turn.”

His fingers tap against the poolside, but his piercing eyes never leave yours.

After what seems like an eternity of silence, he speaks, “are you happy to see me dancing again?”

You frown and raise a brow, “of course…? Yes, I’m beyond ecstatic—”

—your words are cut off when he stands upright and takes one large stride to the other end of the pool where you sat, and the next thing you know, his lips smashes into yours. And unlike the last kiss you had shared with him, this one is much more forceful. He’s impatient, he’s twisting and turning and pushing like he’s running out of time, his hands snake to wrap around your back and pulls you in until the two of you are chest-to-chest.

Somehow, you manage to pull away for a split second, “Hoseok, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m dissatisfied with your answer, Y/N,” he states before pushing you into him once again and collides his lips with yours.

Your head is dizzy and you can barely get enough oxygen each time he pulls away for a split second to give you some time to breathe, but there’s something about the haste in his movements, the impatience in his pulls and pushes, and the look in his eyes that’s screaming for help that tells you this kiss isn’t about passion or lust or anything like that; it’s about desperation and the most twisted way to express the sorrow that resides with him. And even though he isn’t playing by the rules of the game, there’s a part of you that sympathizes with him, for your heart drops at the mess of emotions his wet, sloppy kiss conveys to you.

Maybe he isn’t answering your questions with words, but there’s no doubt that he’s opening up to you more than he ever has before.

Finally, you put a hand against his chest and push him an arm’s distance away before managing to say in the midst of heavy breathing, “I don’t get it, Hoseok. I’m confused. You’re acting out. You’re… different.”

“How is this any different from the last time I kissed you?” he refutes with knotted brows.

“No, there’s something wrong,” you shake your head. “What’s wrong, Hoseok? Please, just let me help you.”

“Then answer my question correctly,” he says, calling out to you as he watches you get up and depart from the poolside. “That’s all you can do right now.”

“Am I happy to see you dancing again?” you repeat the question, grabbing and wrapping a towel around you from a table. “I don’t know… not if this is how you’re going to act, then no, I’m not. But I was happy to see you so immersed in dancing again earlier today. I just want to know if… you’re happy...?”

Something flickers in the dark ditch within his eyes, and after a long deafening silence, he finally answers.

“Yeah…” he finally answers with his eyes at the other side of the pool where you had just sat before drowning himself back into the pool, “I guess I’m happy too.”

[19red]

hello, this is me trying to strong-arm my brain into stopping the constant tweaking and re-tweaking of the same stinking 3k so I can write on and get to the good parts of this project namely p and j having all the sex thank you very much

+

The day after Patrick and Jonny bang a chick together, Patrick wakes to the weight of an alien limb squashing his bladder. The alien limb belongs to a furnace-hot, tentacular mass plastered all along his back. The mass smells oddly familiar, kind of citrusy—as if it stole Jonny’s body wash.

Patrick squints his eyes open. A blade of sunlight filters through the half-drawn curtains and stabs him in the face. Right under the window, Jonny’s suitcase dribbles clothes onto the floor.

It shouldn’t be hard to put two and two together, but Patrick’s really dumb first thing in the morning. Plus, he needs to pee. Bad. Which is pretty distracting.

He paws at the tentacle swung over his waist, fingers catching on—a beaded string. Did the alien mass steal Jonny’s bracelet too? Patrick struggles to lift his head. He wants to see.

The alien mass stole Jonny’s whole arm. What--?

A growl spills in a damp, ticklish huff into the crook of Patrick’s neck as the mass coils itself closer. Something hard pokes Patrick’s ass. His nostrils fill with a waft of scent his hindbrain understands as so viscerally Jonny that recognition smacks him dizzy.

The mass is Jonny. Last night, he and Patrick banged a chick together. That thing wedged between them, growing firmer by the second? That thing is Jonny’s—

Patrick’s heart plummets straight to his dick.

It’s okay. It’s whatever. Patrick isn’t gonna freak over a physiological response. Bodies are also really dumb first thing in the morning.

“Jonny,” he says, wriggling to catch Jonny’s attention. Jonny has always been his go-to guy in a crisis. Except, in this instance, he is also the crisis itself. Jonny’s hips buck forward once, twice—Patrick stops breathing for the handful of seconds it takes Jonny’s sleep-drenched, horny-ass body to lose interest and stutter back into relative stillness.

Fuck, Patrick thinks. Visions of impending awkwardness swarm his brain. If Jonny were to wake up right now, full-mast boner pressed to Patrick’s ass, and discover the tent pitched in the front of Patrick’s sweats, he might rush to conclusions. Their ability to make direct eye contact would definitely endure permanent damage. They’d have to restructure their life with the aim of reciprocal avoidance. Patrick would have to request a trade. Jonny would probably drop out of the NHL. He’d forsake hockey and society at large and end up trampled to death by a giant moose while he hides from Patrick in the Canadian wilderness.

Fuck, Patrick thinks again. When a whole minute drips away and Jonny doesn’t stir, he thanks the hockey gods. With very little, very slow movements, he dislodges the arm pinning him to the mattress. By the times he’s free, the light slanting in from the window changed the angle of its assault to his pupils. Still careful, he slides the covers off himself, sits up, swings his legs off the bed. His feet land on the floor just as a variation in the pattern of Jonny’s breathing alerts him it’s all been for nothing. Jonny is awake. Or, like, as close to awake as Jonny manages to be coffee-free and before noon. Which is not much, thank fuck.

“It’s early,” Patrick reassures him. Jonny gets real pissy when he doesn’t get his full eight hours. Patrick doesn’t want to get stuck with Captain seriously cranky and his legitimately lethal death glare on the flight back to Chicago.

Jonny hums, lids fluttering open and back closed immediately, dark lashes kissing the top of his cheekbones. Patrick expects him to just roll over and sink back deep into snoring, the man is easy like that, instead he plumps an arm over the empty space next to him and mumbles, “Come back,” so low Patrick feels the vibration of it in his belly more than with his ears. Jonny must think Patrick’s some chick, maybe his ex or the one from last night.

“Dude,” Patrick chuckles to clear his throat. This is prime chirp material. Jonny’s such a clingy loser. “It’s just me.”

The side of Jonny’s mouth that isn’t squashed into the pillow tugs up in a smile, then his eyes tremble open, searching the space in front of them for Patrick’s, as if he knew where to find him, as if he weren’t surprised. It’s a bit like being punched but with weird, devastating gentleness. Patrick’s left breathless and dazed, a slow ache spreading below his ribs. “Sorry,” he says, legs moving on their own accord. “Sorry, gotta piss.”

Jonny flops onto his belly and sprawls across Patrick’s side of the bed. With a sigh, he hugs Patrick’s pillow to his face. “Be quick,” he whines—or maybe not. It’s muffled and Patrick is already halfway out the door so he can’t be sure. It doesn’t really matter.

***

“Where’s Tazer?” Duncs asks in lieu of good morning when Patrick shows up at breakfast almost two hours later, no captain in tow.

Patrick chomps on a hunk of strawberry toast and shrugs. Contrary to popular belief, no clause in his contract bids him constant awareness of Jonny’s whereabouts.

Duncs squints, clearly feeling entitled to a degree of eloquence involving efforts of the verbal variety and resenting their lack.

“Don’t tell me he’s sick,” Shawzy says.

The legs of Stromer’s chair screech against the floor as he scoots away from Patrick. He ends up almost in Brinsky’s lap. “It better not be catching.”

“Oh my god,” Patrick puffs the words fat with annoyance. “He’s sleeping. I mean, I guess he...” He is for sure. No chance Jonny is still waiting. If Patrick barged back into his room right now, Jonny would laugh, would tell him to stop trying to make things weird. Patrick knows this rationally. Yet some spiked grip squeezes his insides with the same vicious strength of an anaconda trying to crush itself a snack.

People can’t die from upset conscience, can they? Especially not if the upset is unquestionably misplaced, right?

“I mean,” Patrick snaps after a second, “the fuck do I know.”

Duncs eyebrows shoot halfway across his forehead.

“Whoa,” Stromer gasps.

“Wait,” Shawzy says. “Are mum and dad fighting?”

Patrick grinds his molars. Everyone’s so fucking pressed. It’s not like Jonny is a regular at team breakfasts. In fact, unless attendance is mandatory, Jonny prefers to limit the number of people upon which he inflicts the ghastly spectacle of his slow de-zombification to a minimum.

Patrick casts his mind back to the last time the two of them didn’t resort to room-service during game trips. He dredges up both no recollection of that happening in years and the stomach-sinking hunch that maybe this is weird. Maybe he should have gone back. Maybe that would have been the normal thing to do.  

“Shut up,” he says, to the voice in his head and everyone else. He grabs a pitcher of coffee and fills his cup until it brims. “Don’t talk to me. I’m waking up.”

“He’s rubbed off on you,” Shawzy appraises.

He’s more right than he’d probably care to know—nope. Patrick yanks his thoughts away before they can trip over that precipice and splat into the phantom embrace of Jonny’s body and its heft, its warmth, its neediness.

“Shut up,” he repeats, and with big emphatic motions designed to put a period on the conversation, he whips out his phone. He trusts the mindless scrolling will work its time-warping, mind-numbing magic and when he’ll look up next, all the weird will have been purged from this day.

Between sips of coffee, he pores through the stats for the last game, skims the emails in his inbox and rage-reads a review trashing the new Twilight book. He considers sending the link to Erica so he can vent about the snobby assholes who think they’re smarter than everyone else just because all the books they read are boring as fuck, but she’s probably at work already. He scrolls through his contacts. The one of the chick from last night jumps out. Her name’s Chelsea, which is pretty lucky. She was hot, Patrick recons, and thinking that feels normal. Feels safe. Feels like something Patrick would love to feel more of, thank you very much.

Hi, he types, riding the spur of the moment. This is Patrick from last night.

Stupid and risky, his inner Jonny warns. Never give your number to one night stands. Patrick ignores him and for the sake of clarity and glory, adds, The one who made you see god with his tongue.

“Look who’s joining us,” Shawzy’s voice announces just then.

Patrick’s gaze springs up, landing squarely across Jonny’s chest. Patrick knows it’s Jonny’s chest even though he doesn’t let his gaze climb up to the face attached to it for confirmation. The chest is sailing across the breakfast hall toward Patrick. Well, not toward Patrick specifically. Toward Patrick and the rest of the guys.

“Morning,” Jonny mumbles, dropping his scrambled eggs on the table and his ass between Seabs and Crow.

Patrick’s phone chimes.

well hello patrick 😜

“Slept well?” Shawzy probes, feigning innocence. Patrick’s hackles rise.

“I guess,” Jonny says.

Patrick allows himself another quick glance. Jonny looks good, which means like his usual self, which means nothing like a dude who went through the transformative experience of witnessing his best friend o-face.  It’s kind of annoying, actually. Patrick’s nerves are all fried. He’s half-convinced in the right light anybody could look at him and simply—tell. Patrick Kane got off with another dude in the room and enjoyed it. For a blink he’s fourteen and trying to fight a guy almost double his size who called him a cocksucker, that slammed him against the boards and told him not to bother standing up since everyone knows he does his best work from his knees.

His phone chimes again.

“Tell me the truth.”

totally hit me up again next time ur back here

“What?”

Patrick’s heart rate spikes. Would Jonny even be up for it?

Won’t be for the rest of the season :(, he types.

Maybe things feel weird because threeways are a novelty, maybe they just have to work up an immunity. People have threeways all the time and afterward their lives go on undisrupted. But if you’re ever in Chicago… his fingers are so clammy they smudge the screen when he hits send. He reaches for his cup.

“Did you keep our Kaner up all night?”

Patrick’s head jerks up.

“What?” Jonny says, flat.

For the first time since Patrick sneaked out on him, they make direct eye contact.

Shawzy drones on in the background, “Saw you trying to score that hot--”

It last precisely long enough for a sip of coffee to get its lanes mixed as it plunges down Patrick’s throat and somehow u-turn its way out of his body through the nostrils.

Patrick’s lungs try their best to turn inside out.

“Dude,” Shawzy says.

Stromer slaps Patrick’s back a couple of times, hard.

Duncs throws a handful of paper napkins in his general direction and winces in open disgust as Patrick snatches one mid-air and uses it to dab at the liquid leaking out of him. “Gross.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Patrick informs them tartly between fits of coughing. Some treacherous asshole on his right is fucking cackling. He sweeps the table with an encompassing glare and catches Jonny’s eyes again, all dark with concern. The back of Patrick’s neck prickles with embarrassment. “I’m fine,” he repeats, steadier, and Jonny looks away so Patrick does too, hurriedly withdrawing like from the touch of something scalding.

He zeros in on Chelsea’s new message.

might fly in for a couple of weeks around christmas actually

Patrick latches on to the conversation, blocking out his surroundings, trying his hardest to look busy. Fuck everyone and Jonny too.

We could catch up then if you have time ;)

totally 👅🔥🍆🔥, she texts. And after a moment, say hi to porn dick from me btw

Who?

🙄

Patrick bristles. For some reason, the thought of this random stranger sitting around with her head full of pictures of Jonny’s dick makes him hitch. His chest riots with some misguided protective instinct. Jonny would be insufferably smug if he knew, no doubt about it. It’s not that big.

it is! 100% porn worthy

You don’t know what you’re talking about

???

I’m just saying, are chicks even into that? he writes, just to be an asshole but also because he’s pretty sure chicks hate porn. It’s supposed to be a feminism thing. Erica once made him a whole speech about it or whatever.

big dicks? They are

Haha

their also into porn btw this aint the middle ages AND they have way better taste in it then men

Can you prove it? he asks, hoping it sounds flirty and not confrontational. He wants this chick to bang him again but not over the head with a blunt instrument.

maybe if u stop trying to outdick ur bf with ur personality ill send you some recs

“Who are you texting?”

Patrick elbows his cup off the table and scrambles to catch it before it crashes against the floor. “Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his coffee-soaked hand.

Jonny laughs and at the sound, Patrick’s heart stumbles, then sprints up his throat. “You’re a mess,” Jonny says. He stole Stromer chair.

“Yeah, no, fuck off.”

Stromer is nowhere to be found. He and the rest of the guys must have migrated to the lobby. Patrick picks up the phone from where he abandoned it to make the save and shoves it deep into his pocket just as it pings.

Jonny quirks an eyebrow. He’s smiling.

It feels like Patrick trudged around all morning with a lead rib-cage before the universe caught the glitch. The sudden slack from gravity makes him giddy.  “Don’t be nosy.”

“I’m not!” Jonny protests, all put upon outrage. He flicks Patrick on the hand. “Just saying, team’s gonna suffer if you sprain a thumb.”

A laugh bubbles up Patrick’s chest, loud and easy, and just a little embarrassing.

For a moment, Jonny looks impossibly pleased but then he catches himself. “Everything alright, yeah?” he asks, turning bashful. His eyes drift to the small heap of crumbs he’s sweeping together with his pinkie.

Patrick nudges his thumb against the back of Jonny’s hand. “Yeah. You?”

Jonny’s lips curl up at the corners. “Of course,” he says, looking up, gaze dark and soft.

Of course, of course, of course. Jonny would never let anything happen to them. Patrick stomach flutters. “Okay,” he smiles, dimples out, and Jonny beams back. Time goes fuzzy as they stare at each other in silence—until the ping of an incoming text makes them both startle.

“Again?” Jonny bitches. A moment later, his forehead creases and he puts his serious face on, “Everything okay with your sisters?”

“Yeah, no. It’s not--” Jonny’s eyes flicks to Patrick’s mouth. Patrick hadn’t realized he’d been chewing on his bottom lip. He stops and it tingles, his own breath turning chilly enough to sting as it laps over the bite. “Just-- the chick from last night,” Patrick’s tongue says forgoing any input from his brain. It’s fine. It’s whatever.

“Oh,” Jonny says.

The world keeps rolling. Unfortunately, so does Patrick’s tongue, “Yeah. She’s cool. She was fun.”

“She was okay.”

Patrick can’t believe the understatement. “Okay? Just that? You’ve got some tough standards, man. She was--” as he searches for the right adjective, it suddenly hits him that Jonny has more experience, at least when it comes to threeways. It’s fucking unfair, but entirely possible, the mind-blowingest sex of Patrick’s life would barely chart as okay for Jonny. While he was dating Lindsay, the two of them got up to some kinky shit, Patrick’s pretty sure. Not that he spent any time thinking about it. He licks his lips. “It was hot, right?”

Jonny scoffs. What an asshole.

“Fuck you.”

“It was hot,” he grants. His cheeks are turning pink. He means it.

It feels like scoring the game-winner in the Stanley Cup final. The rush of triumph makes him cocky. “Hotter than the one you had with Lindsay?”

Jonny scoffs again, to Patrick infinite delight. “It was!” Patrick surmises.

“Lindsay’s hotter than her.”

“No way,” he is so offended on Chelsea’s behalf, he barely registers the deflection. Lindsay dumped Jonny. No matter how she looks, her insides must be rotten. Patrick hates that Jonnys is still hung up on her. He kicks Jonny’s foot to make sure he has his attention. “Maybe we should try again. Chelsea’s coming to Chicago around Christmas.”

“Is she?” Jonny kicks him back. “You two move fast.”

“She’s got family there, I think.”

“Sure,” he sounds skeptical. He admitted it was hot, why wouldn't he want a rematch? He and Patrick and some hot chick, she doesn’t even have to be Chelsea, she can be whoever. Small and blonde, like Jonny likes.

“Or we could find someone else,” Patrick says, growing more committed to the idea each second it lives in his brain. “Just go out and see what happens.”

“You think that’s smart?”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “I think you’re boring.” He goes in for the kill, “Captain serious.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’d even let you pick, I don’t care.”

“Starting to sound a bit desperate there, Kaner,” Jonny flashes his most punchable smirk, the one that’s a little lopsided and always makes Patrick squirm.

Patrick starts a mental list of ways to wipe it off his face. Maybe if he shoved two fingers up Jonny’s nose… “What?” he asks, kind of distracted.

“I’m just saying, If you want to see me naked that bad, you only have to--”

“Fuck you,” Patrick sputters. “I was being generous. Bros before hoes or whatever.”

“I’m telling Erica you said that.”

The thought is terrifying. “Don’t,” Patrick shrieks, so loud people in their proximity stop mid-munching to give them the stink eye.

It’s their cue to clear off, a pretty timely one, considering they barely make it on the bus. They’d probably be yelled at, if they weren’t Kane and Toews.

Jonny saunters past Colliton’s glare and flops down next to Seabs. Patrick takes the two seats right behind, stretching out until he’s almost horizontal.

He checks his phone. Chelsea sent him a text and a link. The texts says, one of them looks a bit like your boy. you’re welcome. The link-- Patrick slaps the phone face down on his thigh.

“You okay there, Kaner?” Jonny asks, glancing over his shoulder.

Patrick feels his ears burn redder than the Hawks home jersey. “Yeah, no. Real peachy.”

[heylittlehollywood]

Whiling Away

This has been hanging in my drafts for a while. 

Merry Christmas, MMFD fam x

He watches as she checks her watch for the fourth time in about twenty minutes. She looks more put out every time she sees the answer on her wrist, her nose wrinkling up like she’s just realized she’s got dog shite on the bottom of her trainers. 

She brushes her long raven hair out of her face, throwing it behind her right shoulder as she glances around her. Finn quickly diverts his eyes and looks down at his boots with an amused snort. He doesn’t need her noticing him noticing her...not that it’s bloody likely; she hasn’t so much as smiled his way in the last four hours that they’ve been sat here in the terminal. 

He looks up and to his left, finding Chop and Archie curled up in their seats and facing each other. Chop’s girlfriend Izzy is tucked under his arm, her head tilted at an odd angle resting atop his chest. Finn doesn’t know how the lot of ‘em managed to fall asleep, not with all of the people milling about and the constant stream of announcements over the intercom. 

He chances another look at the beauty sitting across from them and finds her mate staring at him. His shoulders jump in surprise at the direct eye contact. He chuckles to himself and shrugs at the mate before his eyes dart to the dark haired woman again. 

The woman’s shoulder shakes from the nudge from her mate and pretty soon the beauty’s eyes connect with his. Her startled expression and slight curve to her mouth has him shifting forward in his seat. 

“She’s a pretty thing, isn’t she Finny?” Chop announces from next to him, sitting up in his chair and lifting his hands up to cup his chest. Poor Iz grumbles as she sits up next to him, moving her neck to the side with a wince.

Finn’s head falls forward into his hands. “Make it a bit more obvious, will ya?” he groans, shaking his head from side to side. 

Chop’s laughter reverberates around the terminal, waking any passenger that might be getting a wink or two of sleep. “She’s just a bird, Finn,” he explains, clapping Finn on the back, “it’s not like you’ve got the bollocks to say hello, mate.”

Finn turns his head until his cheek rests flat against his palm. “Iz, please promise me he’s not going to be like tha’ during the entire trip home?” 

Izzy wipes the sleep from her eyes, frowning at Finn. “You’ve known him since primary, Finn. Of course he’s going to be.”

Archie stretches his arms over his head, sitting up in his seat beside Chop. “Go say hello, Finn.”

“I liked you all better when you were sleeping.” Finn crosses his arms over his chest and sinks down in his seat.

Archie reaches out to touch Finn’s forearm. “I’m serious, Finn. She looks a bit sad at the moment and could probably do with some cheering up.” 

“Don’t be daft, Arch.”

Archie looks over at the two women and shrugs. “Reckon she might be sad that ol’ Finn panty-dropping Nelson isn’t staring anymore.” He turns back to Finn with a smirk. 

Finn looks to the ceiling. “What have I done to deserve such pricks for mates?” 

“Just lucky I guess,” Chop says close to his ear, causing Finn to jump in his seat. When and why his friend got out of his seat and sidled up right next to Finn, he’s got no idea. 

Finn reaches up to scrub his hand at the side of his neck. “Don’t breathe on me neck like that, ya nutter.” 

Chop grins big and sits back into his own seat. “Bet you wouldn’t mind if your love interest over yonder was doing it, eh Finny?”

Finn has to grab at Chop’s hand and force them onto his lap before the lovely woman notices his mate waving wildly in her direction. “Would you PLEASE not embarrass me?” He looks to his other mates, eyes large and pleading as he gets up from his seat. “I’ve got to use the loo. Could you two please keep him out of trouble?”

“You can count on me, Finn,” Izzy tells him from her new perch on her boyfriend’s lap, giggling when Chop blows a raspberry against her neck. 

Finns just flushed the toilet when the intercom sounds with an important update on flight 1508 from Palma to Heathrow, but Finn doesn’t quite catch it over the noise. He washes his hands quickly before finding his friends back in the terminal, the three of them looking quite distraught. “What is it? I didn’t hear the whole thing.”

Archie looks up as Finn approaches, shakes his head. “Delayed 3 hours, something about the plane needing a repair.” 

Izzy wipes at her eyes as Chop holds her close. “My mum is going to be so upset if we aren’t home tonight.”

“3 hours. That’ll put us in around midnight, yeah? I should call my da,” Finn states as he wrestles with the tie on his bag and searches the largest pocket for money to call his father. 

****

“I don’t know about the rest of ya but I’m ready to get sloshed. My poor mum were gutted that we won’t be home tonight,” Chop tells them, tossing his wallet onto the seat next to him. “Anyone else want to find a place for a pint?” He gets up and slings his bag over his shoulder, pockets the discarded wallet and starts down the hall towards the pub. 

The rest of the group is quick to grab their things and follow behind 

him, Finn at the rear. He chances a glance back over his shoulder to see if the pretty woman with the dark hair is still there, but doesn’t see her or her friend. He tugs the strap of his bag over with a sigh and jogs to catch up with his friends. 

Archie finds them a table towards the back of a pub a terminal down while Chop goes to the bar to get the first round. “This music is shit, Finn. Why don’t you pick something else?” Archie asks, sliding several coins across the table towards Finn. 

Finn shrugs, picks up the coins and heads in the direction Archie points him in. He’s happy to find nobody else around and is free to select whatever music he likes, selecting several from The Smiths, The Stone Roses, Primal Scream, and a song or two from Blur. With a self-satisfied smirk he makes his way back to his table for his pint and maybe a bit of praise.

He takes the pint from in front of his empty seat and takes a swig. His first selection comes over the speakers and Finn looks up from his beer to his friends expectantly. He nearly spits out his first sip when he finds an unfamiliar pair of dark brown eyes looking back at him, but in a rush not to do so he ends up inhaling the liquid and has to turn away so he doesn’t cough in her face. 

Finn rubs at his chest as he finally turns back to the table, his cheeks heating with embarrassment. He can see both Archie and Chop looking away, their hands covering their mouths as their shoulders shake. Both Izzy and this woman’s mate are staring intently at Finn and the dark haired beauty. 

“Are you alright?” the woman asks, touching his forearm with her hand. 

He nods and takes another sip of his drink, hoping that it will calm his nerves enough to speak. “Sorry about tha’, think I took it down a bit too fast or summat.” 

She smiles at him. ��I’m just glad that you’re OK.”

Izzy clears her throat from across the table, but Finn’s eyes are otherwise occupied. “Finn, this is Chloe,” she explains, pointing to the lighter haired woman next to her, “and this is Rae,” she tells him, motioning to the woman in front of him. 

Rae smiles at him and points to the ceiling. “This your doing, Finn?” 

“The music?” 

She nods and shuffles her feet a bit, drawing his attention down. “Yeah, I reckon it is. Who doesn’t want some Stone Roses on Christmas Eve?” he asks, perusing her body from her feet up. 

Chloe laughs from her seat next to Izzy. “Don’t see much use trying to interject ourselves into this conversation.”

Finn puffs out his cheeks, blowing out a deep breath before taking another sip from his pint. Guess he hadn’t been very sly in his quest to get a good look at her. He doesn’t regret it. He likes what he saw, likes that her bulky jumper ends right below her bum, but is still just tight enough that it doesn’t hide the curve of her hips. 

Rae looks over at her mate, her eyes opening wide and her lips pursing. This only causes Chloe to laugh harder, waving her mate away with the flick of her wrist and turning her attention to Izzy. 

Finn catches sight of the glass in Rae’s hand, which just so happens to be resting against her hip and can tell that it’s nearly empty. “Do you need another drink?”

Rae takes her last sip of the beverage and shakes the glass between them. “I’d love one, Finn.”

She follows him up to the bar and places her drink on the bartop. “Snakebite please,” she tells the worker before turning her attention back to Finn. 

“So Finn, where are you lot flying to?” she asks, resting her elbow on the bartop and turning her body towards him. The man behind her keeps bumping into her back, forcing her closer to Finn. He’d tell the bloke off if she looked the least bit bothered and to be honest he’s liking her closer. But really he can practically feel the heat of her body she’s so close and he’s really struggling to focus on much else, not when with each breath she takes her tits are brushing up against his chest. 

He clears his throat and meets her eyes. “London, but only to pick up our car and drive home. We have another 2 hours to go or so from there.” He reaches into his pocket and slides the money to the barkeep when he drops off the snakebite. “Where are you and Chloe headed?”

She takes a sip of her new drink before answering, “about 2.5 hours north of London, unless one of us needs a bit of a break of course. We’ve got another week before we have to go back to Uni, so we’ll spend it in Boston.”

“You’re joking?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Joking?”

“I’m from Stamford. How’s it possible we’re all from Lincolnshire?” he asks, motioning between the two of them and to their group at the table. 

Rae laughs and shrugs. “It really is a small world.” 

She picks up her pint and moves to make her way back to their friends, but he stops her with a hand at her elbow. “Do you want to stay over here - with me for a bit?” He’s got no idea what he’s doing, but he knows he doesn’t want to share her time with the rest of the group. 

She looks back at their friends and then to Finn before she pulls a stool out and takes a seat. “I’d like that.”

He takes another stool from under the bartop and positions it next to Rae, far enough away to not crowd her, but close enough to tell the rest of the patrons that she’s here with him. “So Uni? Where’s that?”

Rae’s knee brushes against his as she shifts in her seat. “Both Chlo and I are at Bristol, our last year actually.” She looks down at their knees, biting at the side of her bottom lip. “Are you at Uni, Finn?”

“I finished up last year. I’m back in Stamford working.”

Rae rests her elbow against the bartop, chin tucked into her palm as she looks at him. “And what do you do for work?” 

His eyes haven’t left her mouth in the last several minutes, but luckily he still hears her question. “I uh - I run the local radio station actually, “ he tells her, eyes tracking the tiny droplet of cider on her bottom lip and the tip of her tongue when she licks it off. “I’ve got a show with my mate Craig in the evening as well.”

“Well you’ve got decent taste in music from what I can tell,” she says with a smile, her grin growing as she leans forward to whisper, “ but, I bet you slip in a dodgy tune every now and then, yeah? A little ‘Babylon Zoo’ for the drive home.”

He chuckles, his head tilted forward as he drags his hand through the back of his hair. He lifts his eyes to look at her. “Can ya really classify Spaceman as dodgy?” 

Her laughter lights up her entire face and he’s grinning at the way she tips her head back and groans. “Bloody Spaceman. I had so much hope for your show until that bomb.” 

Finn lets his hand drop from his hair and onto his lap, sitting up in his seat. He decides to shoot his shot while she’s distracted and lightly touches the pads of his fingers against her legging clad knee. “Don’t judge me too harshly, yeah?” He can see and feel her leg jump at his touch, but he’s happy when she doesn’t move her knee out from under his fingers. 

He withdraws his fingers from her knee and asks, “will your family be disappointed that you won’t be home until real early in the morning?”

Rae takes a sip of her snakebite and shakes her head. “My mum and sister are in Tunisia with my step dad for another two weeks. I’ll be staying at Chloe’s.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear before placing her hands in her lap. “What about your family?”

“My da’ were a bit sad, yeah. I don’t like that he’ll be alone, but not much to be done.” 

He watches with a little smile as her thumb brushes against the side of his hand in gentle sweeps. “I’m sorry that you won’t be with him tonight.”

“What are you two lovebirds talking about?” Chop asks from next to him, throwing his arm over Finn’s shoulders. 

Finn groans and shakes his shoulders to get Chop’s arm off him. “We were talking about you, ya knobhead.”

Chop pushes his face between the pair, looks down at their hands and then up at Finn. “Only good things I hope.” He bats his eyelashes before pushing back on his heels. 

“I thought Iz was keeping you in line. What are you doing over here?” Finn asks, pushing at his friend to watch him rock backwards. 

Chop waves his hand over his shoulder. “Iz and that other woman Chlo are about 5 Hooches in each. I don’t think they’ll be controllin’ anyone, mate”

That’s all it takes for Rae to push her stool back and excuse herself to go find her friend. 

Chop is too far gone to notice Finn’s annoyance. “Do you want to go get something to eat? Arch and I are starving.”

“Sure,” Finn grumps. He finishes his pint and gets up from his seat. “Should we go see what the girls want to do?” He grabs onto Chop’s sleeve and pulls him behind him as he walks to the table. 

When they reach the table they find Izzy and Chloe grinning, their heads pressed together and facing Rae. Rae’s cheeks are pink and she’s shaking her head in response to a question Chloe has just asked her. 

Finn decides to leave them to chat, seeking out his other best mate Archie with Chop it tow. He finds Archie chatting up some bloke at the back of the pub. Archie is laughing and touching the man’s shoulder. He looks happy, so Finn decides to leave him to it.

“Let’s see if anyone else wants something, yeah?” Finn directs Chop to the table of women. 

Chop presses a wet and loud kiss against his girlfriend’s cheek and whispers something in her ear that makes her giggle like mad. 

Finn rolls his eyes at the pair and steps forwards to lean across the table. “You lot want anything to eat? Chopper over here is starvin’.”

“Some chips would be lovely, Finn,” Izzy says, her cheeks pink and eyes wide. 

Finn smiles at her before turning to Chloe. “Me too,” she tells him quickly, pushing Rae at the hip towards him, “why doesn’t Rae go with you, yeah?”

“Round of chips, I think we’ve got it.” He turns to Rae, motioning for her to step in front of him. He looks back at his mates. “I expect a beer when I get back here.”

The two make their way down the hall in search of a fast food restaurant where they can load up on chips for their friends. 

“Chlo alright?” Finn asks, bumping his shoulder against Rae’s. 

She laughs and shakes her head. “Yeah, a bit pissed but mostly she wanted to give me grief.”

He looks over at her, eyebrow raised. 

She groans and throws her head back, her pretty hair tumbling down her back. “She wanted to know what was going on with us. Fit bloke like you...with me?” She waves her hands over the front of her body. 

 Finn steers them off course and to the side of the hallway with his hand against her lower back until she’s pressed between him and the wall. He’s not pressed against her, no - doesn’t want to seem too forward, too eager to press his body to hers. 

She’s looking down at the floor, a blush coloring the apples of her cheeks and stretching to her hairline. He tips her face up with his forefinger and thumb pinched at her chin. “What do ya mean, Rae?”

Her hand wraps around his forearm, but she doesn’t tug his hand away. She looks up at him through heavy lidded eyes - he can’t tell if it’s lust or the snakebites, but he likes it. “Ignore me.”

He studies her, his front teeth dragging over his bottom lip. He wants to push it, but thinks maybe this isn’t the time or place to do it. Instead, he drops his face closer to hers, looks down at her mouth. He smiles at her little intake of air. 

“Finn.” He can smell the cider on her breath as she speaks, the faint fragrance of vanilla coming from her - he suspects her hair. 

He presses his thumb against her chin, making her bottom lip jut out. “Rae,” he says before he places a feather light kiss against that bottom lip. 

She sighs and flexes her fingers against his arm. “Do ya think we should go get the food before our mates pass out?” Her hand drops from his forearm and she blinks her eyes a couple of times, as if she’s waking up from a nap. 

His hand joins hers at their sides. “‘Spose we should.” Finn steps back, giving her space to slide by him. He grabs hold of her hand, watching her as she straightens her jumper. “To be continued?”

Rae takes his hand, pulling him towards their destination. She looks over her shoulder at him with a little grin. “To be continued.”

*****

Their friends cheer when they arrive with their food, causing quite a scene. Finn has barely put the bags of food on the table before Chop is grabbing containers and passing them around the table and shoving chips in his gob. 

Iz is looking quite green as she watches her boyfriend, her hand covering her mouth before she forces herself to look down at the table. “You OK Iz?” Finn asks, pushing some of the food in her direction. 

She gives a quick nod before she darts towards the toilet.

Rae touches the top of his hand. “Should I go check on her?”

“Would you mind?”

She gets up from the seat she’s just sat in, her fingers skimming up his forearm before she makes her way to Izzy. 

He watches her go, completely mesmerized by the sway of her hips as she walks that he barely hears Chloe say his name. He turns to her. “Yeah?”

“You can take my seat on the way back to London.”

“Wha? Your seat on the plane?” 

Chloe rolls her eyes and laughs. “Yes, of course I mean my seat on the plane. You know….the one next to Rae?”

“That’s reall--” 

“On one condition!” Chloe holds her hand up to stop him before adding, “I’m not sitting next to Chop.”

Chop, who has finally stopped eating, places both of his hands over his heart. “I’m wounded, Chlo.” 

Finn agrees to Chloe’s offer with a nod and a smile, which she returns. 

“Oi Arch, I know you’re a bit distracted, but if you don’t get your arse over here I’m going to eat the rest of ya chips,” Chop shouts over his shoulder before he opens up the last bag. 

Archie is standing next to the table in a moment, slapping Chop’s hand away from his food. “Oh no you don’t.”

Chop grins up at Archie. “I weren’t really going to eat them, ya numpty. Just wanted to give those lips of yours a break.” Chop chuckles and ducks his head out of the way of Archie’s hand.

Finn shakes his head at his friends’ antics and swipes a chip out of Archie’s hand, laughing at Archie’s answering scowl. “Sorry mate,” he says, shoving it into his mouth. 

“Prick,” Archie mutters under his breath, shoving at Finn’s shoulder.

Finn can feel her behind him as she walks back to join the group. He turns his entire body to greet her. “All right?” 

“I think she’ll be fine after she gets a bit of sleep on the plane,” Rae tells him, her pinky skimming his at his side. 

He leans in close to her, his mouth near her ear. “Chloe said that I can have her seat on the plane.” He rocks back on his heels, his head still bent and his lower lip tucked behind his teeth. “What do ya think?”

“Yes. I think yes.” 

“Flight 1508, Palma to Heathrow will be boarding in thirty minutes,” the intercom announces, drawing the group’s attention. 

“That’s it, that’s us Iz,” Chop tells Izzy, who is now tucked up against his side with her face pressed against his chest. She groans in response, shaking her head against him. 

Chloe assists Chop with getting Iz out of the seat and places the strap for her bag over one shoulder. The three of them lead the rest of the group from the pub and towards their gate with Archie running behind - as he had to say goodbye to the bloke that he was chatting up. 

The gang make it to their gate with plenty of time to spare. Finn and Rae rest their backs against the wall facing the other four who take seats near the back of the seating area, poor Iz slumping over on her boyfriend. 

Finn turns to rest his side against the wall to face Rae, not quite looking at her. “So uh - Rae, do you have any plans for New Years?”

She tucks her hair behind her ear, which quickly falls in front of her face again when she turns to look at him. “Don’t think so. Probably get some takeaway and have a drink or two with Chlo.”

He’s looking at his shoes and chewing at the frayed cuticle of his thumb and he knows he probably looks like a nervous twat when he asks, “I was hoping you might like to go out...with me?”

“Yeah, YES, yes I would.” 

[botwstoriesandsuch]

Idk if you do ship ask but I've always hc that most ritos are affraid of thunder, since that could very easily harm/kill something flying (like a rito), so do you have any headcanons about link comforting revali during a thunderstorm?

Heya! Thanks for sending this ask, I had so much fun writing it! If you wanna know why it took so long, it’s because I accidentally keep making these essentially oneshots instead of headcanons...I get too wrapped up in the atmosphere lmao. 

Anyhow, please enjoy, and thanks for your patience! :P

Revalink during a thunderstorm: 

2553 words

Revali always thought green was a decent color, it paired well with his evening blue feathers and eyes after all

But this trip was really challenging his beliefs…

“Tree. Tree. Large tree. Giant tree. Leaf. Bush. Greenery. Tree. Giant leaf. A verdant green. Emerald green. Fern green…” He listed off his observations rhythmically

Revali suddenly stopped walking, patting Link on the back. 

“Why Link, you won’t believe this, but if you look up now, you can experience this rare sight of a tree. Impressive isn’t it?”

Link turned his head to see Revali gesture grandly at the Faron scenery, before rolling his eyes. ‘You’re such an ass…’

The Rito smirked, content with the annoyance he was causing Link, before continuing to walk beside him, pointing out the “variety” of nature. 

He had been traveling with Link across the jungles of Faron, helping him fly over the waterfalls and rivers for...reasons he had forgotten. Something ordered by the Princess? Checking Shrines? Updating ruin locations? Something, something, Zonai, Sheikah, database...and other nonsense words that Revali didn’t really care for, point was, “this expedition would run all the more smoothly with your skill set,” so, here he was. 

In hindsight that was probably only said to flatter him into coming, but it’s not like Revali was going to complain. One on one time with Link wasn’t an opportunity he would have passed up on, anyway

Walking under the lush forest canopy, Revali picked at the 700th vine tangled in Link’s hair. “This exploration stuff sure is paying off...I’m experiencing so many new things. Like plants, and water, and bugs. Never could have experienced this anywhere else.”

Link raised an eyebrow, holding up his hands to sign, ‘Come on now, don’t be like that. We’ll be done with this soon, so quit being pretentious for two seconds and enjoy the beauty of nature!’

Right, because the beauty of the sweltering, sickly green, claustrophobic jungle crawling with insects and slimy creatures, dwelling in a sticky, sappy, foliage that seemed to tie your wings down to the earth with it’s grasping vines and prickly leaves… THAT was just the thing for a Rito from Tabantha to enjoy

Revali clicked his tongue. “You think I’m the pretentious one? That one leaf is the size of a Hinox’s arse. What’s even the point of that?? Do the lizards hate the sky that much?” He gestured towards the thick canopy above once again

Link’s expression suddenly changed as he peered through the leaves, noting how the sky’s sunset colors had started to darken with greying clouds. He spoke bluntly

‘There’s a storm coming.’

“Oh? Wonderful…”

‘I think there’s a cave we can use for shelter near the northernmost waterfall.’

“Think? My ability of flight, and overall state of being, is not suited for moisture, so I’d really prefer if you were a bit more certain than, ‘think!’”

‘Well we can always sleep out here if you want… We’ll have to stay overnight judging by the size of those storm clouds.’

Revali shuddered as another sapphire blue lizard crawled across the forest floor near his talons, much too close for comfort. The image of laying down in the dirt, being mocked by the infectious green that covered the sky, for over eight hours, he audibly groaned. 

Fine, hypothetical cave it is. 

“Get on my back already. The sooner the day is done, the better, I suppose.”

Flying through the air, Revali feathers rustled in the growing wind, he could start to smell the storm in the air. Thankfully, Link’s cave turned out to be real, providing dry shelter from the oncoming, feather-drenching rain, thank Hylia. If he had to do his braids and ribbons again after he spent all morning just—

BOOM!

Not two seconds after Revali had landed them both in the cave, a deafening sound shook the ground and carried Revali’s soul to hell, heaven, and back. The sound that escaped his beak was none short of a shrill squeak you might hear come out of a thousand baby birds.

Behind them, green sparks fizzed against the earth, starting a small fire, before it was quickly extinguished by the now pouring rain. 

Revali shuddered, shaking off the few droplets on his wing. His feathers seemed to tremble from the charge in the air, and his mind was racing with thoughts of what would have happened if he was two seconds slower in his descent, but he concealed it all with a neutral frown.

“This forest is lucky the rain started, that bright explosion of death nearly made me think we were under attack, I’d have nocked a bomb arrow or two.” 

‘The...thunder and lightning, you mean?’

“Shut up I know what lightning is.”

‘I guess it makes sense you’re not that familiar...the most action you’ll see in Rito Village is cold winds and snow.’

“I said I know what lightning is.”

‘Oh, don’t worry, I heard you. I heard you very clearly a few seconds ago…’

Revali let out a few “hmphs” before sitting down on the cave floor. Link started to chuckle to himself before starting a fire, the cave was wide enough for the smoke to escape and not suffocate them, and it’s warmth was welcomed wholeheartedly by the Rito Champion.

Link thought that would be the end of it, Revali volunteered to take the first night watch, and the Hylian thought nothing of it. Before either of them knew it, Link had somehow drifted off into a peaceful sleep 

BOOM!

Another crack of thunder. Sure, thunder had been roaring in air for the last two or three hours, but this time the lightning struck close enough to the cave that Link could feel the vibration against the earth. 

He rose with a yawn, stretching his arms as if he had been woken by chirping birds, and not the midnight sky’s roars

Glancing towards Revali’s direction, concern started to creep onto Link’s face, as he watched the Rito with furrowed eyebrows and a frown

As far as he could tell, Revali hadn’t moved an ant’s inch from when Link had last seen him before he dozed off. His jade eyes were fixed on the jungle, and the feathers on his neck seemed to raise everything the sky glowed a shocking flash of green. 

Despite having sat up from the fire, Revali didn’t seem to notice that Link had woken. 

Link waved his arm in front of him, trying to catch the Rito’s gaze. 

‘Hey? You ok?’

Link’s actions cut into Revali’s tumbling thoughts, but he quickly recovered from his initial shock with a click of his tongue

“I’m fine. Just watching to make sure your tired person doesn’t get ambushed by some crafty lizalfo. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Link paused, but in the end, he nodded his head in acceptance. ‘Alrighty then. Well, you go ahead and get some rest. I can take the next watch.’

“...ah. Right.” 

Revali awkwardly shuffled closer to the fire, pinning his back a bit deeper into the shallow cave. 

He didn’t bother to lie down

‘Are you sure you’re ok?’

“I’m fine. I’m just not tired yet is all”

‘Well you should try to get some sleep, cause tomorro—’

“Yes, I’m well aware, I don’t need the reminder of our schedule.”

‘It would probably help to not face the forest, cause the movement and noises can be distracting when you’re trying to sl—’

“Yes. I understand, thank you. As I said I’m not tired so—”

‘But Revali, I just said—’

“Look! I’m fine, stop pestering me about it, OK? All I want is to just be able to—” 

BOOM!

Comically— or perhaps in this atmosphere, un-comically— a lizard fell off the side of a tree near the cave’s mouth, visibly fried and very much dead

Link, ever the survivalist, grew excited at the prospect of a free elixir ingredient, but as he turned to Revali to share this good news, he was greeted with a very still Rito, his feathers pressed stiffly against himself as he seemed to be holding down his other wing, presumably because it was shivering. 

That was strange, considering Link had taken care to keep the firewood stocked. He looked at Revali again, his green eyes seemed to be swirling with racing thoughts and fears  

......fears…

Hylia he was an idiot

Although in fairness, it works both ways

‘I’m sorry...I should have realized you had a greater fear of lightning given the circumstances…’

The Rito suddenly jerked his head, his voice rising in pitch by the second. “W-What?! I don’t know where you got that idea from. Circumstances?? I’ll have you know I’ve trained for years to be quite fearless.”

A sudden flash of light came from the corner of his eye, and Revali had to clamp his tongue to keep silent. If it weren’t for his feathers, he’d be as white as a dove.

‘Are you sure? I’d imagine the thought of thunderstorms are a lot worse for you Rito..’

‘You know, given all the rain, and the chance of being electrocuted, and shot out of the sky by a bolt of lightning, and the loud sounds that probably remind you of an avalanche or a bomb, and also falling out of the sk—’

Link suddenly cut himself off, realizing a bit too late that the explanation of the factors involved with thunder and lightning wouldn’t exactly help Revali’s attitude.

The Rito only stared at Link, his beak clamped shut. Finally, he let out a sigh.

“I’m fine.”

Silence, then a scoff from Link.

Yeah, right. 

He started pulling out an assortment of items from his small pouch—how Link magically managed to fit cart-fulls of apples, armour, and weapons in there was beyond him. Link joked that it was because of magic tree children, at least, Revali thought he was joking

‘Ah-ha! This should make you feel better!’

Link pulled out a golden helmet, it looked Gerudo in style, and it was covered in green, red, and blue gemstones 

‘This thing absorbs lightning, and disperses it, so you don’t get hurt!’

Revali raised an eyebrow, hesitant

‘No! Seriously! This thing has saved me dozens of times, it’s seen hundreds of storms, and it’s taken on countless lightning strikes directly on this part!!’ 

He pointed excitedly to the bright green gemstone’s at the helm’s crest.

Revali could only shift his weight in discomfort, and Link finally got the hint.

‘Ah right. Maybe the lightning prone object isn’t for you...but…’

Link pulled out a weird, flexible hat, in the shape of a fish. It’s giant eyes stared askew at the cave’s walls, and when Link put it on for demonstration purposes, it basically looked like an octorok had spat a starving fish on his hair

‘This little guy is called Lucky. He’s made out of this thing called rubber, and it’s supposed to help keep electricity from touching you. Pretty nifty fashion choice too, right?’

“I will be plucked dry and drowned before you catch me wearing that hideous thing.”

‘Lucky doesn’t appreciate your unkind words…’

A few more minutes pass by, Link unloading the items in his satchel in an attempt to ease Revali’s mind. But most suggestions failed to truly convince him. Occasionally, the storm would boom again, and Link would rub Revali’s wing gently, if only to keep his attention on the weird yellow mushrooms in his hand. Nonetheless, it was a small thing that the Rito appreciated.

After a few more rounds of talking, Revali finally sighed in defeat. “I appreciate your gesture Link, I truly do. But I’d really prefer to just, not think about lightning at all, rather than be surrounded by your cluster of trinkets and tools.”

“So again, it’s fine. I can just sit here and wait it out. Don’t torment me any further with your...endless basket of comfort foods. I do hope that you donate some of those to the needy, I can’t be seen walking around with a selfish, hoarding hero after all.”

Link ignored the quip and Revali’s attempt to deflect the conversation. 

‘Are you sure there’s nothing else I can offer you?’

Revali opened his beak to say no, before closing it. He looked Link up and down, from his fuzzy golden head, to his pathetic and dirty blue tunic, to his brimming, sky blue eyes. 

Revali opened and closed his beak again, before saying, “no, it’s OK.”

Link frowned, tapping his fingers to his chin. 

Then, he swiftly grabbed at the blue scarf around Revali’s neck.

“W-Wha—hey!”

‘Just borrowing this for a sec!’

Despite Revali’s attempts to retrieve it, Link was already unfurling the scarf to its full length and width. Surprisingly, it was long enough, long enough for Link’s plan, anyhow

He turned back to Revali. ‘Snuggle up closer to the fire. If we’re gonna sleep towards the back of the cave like this I’d prefer to be as warm as possible

Revali’s expression was indescribable, at least verbally. Through the power of writing I can only describe the expression as something that conveyed feelings such as:

?!?!?!!?!!??!?!?!?!!!??!?!?!!?!!? 

‘We’re gonna hug, you dense bastard’

Revali started to sputter out questions, and list of logical reasons as to why that suggestion was absurd. But suggestion turned to action as Link wordlessly wrapped the scarf around the two of them, before snuggling into Revali’s feathers.

On the brightside, Revali was stiff for different reasons, other than lightning. 

In hindsight that was probably part of his plan

The Rito was silent, as he struggled with the decision of either allowing himself to be comfortable, nestled with his favourite soft scarf, and his favourite (he would never admit it) Champion

Or to put up his usual quips and walls

Was Link annoyed about this? Happy?? 

Spirits above he was so embarrassed, Link was probably doing this out of pity, like some mother tending to an infant...

Or maybe it wasn’t like that...? Was it something else?? Some other feeling that had cause him to take such a drastic action to—

‘What’cha thinking about?’

Revali felt Link’s arms move under his wing, and he looked over at the Hylian. He looked so...tranquil, and relaxed...and...stunning....despite his terribly kept hair

“Nothing.”

Link raised his eyebrow, ‘Yeah?’

Revali narrowed his eyes in confusion, but nodded, to which Link turned back and nestly his face into his soft feathers.

What kind of a question is that? What am I thinking about? This situation that came out of no where of course!! 

What else would he be thinking abo—

...

Oh

The Rito could only smirk to himself finally putting together the pieces of Link’s scheme

Another moment of silence. At least, to Revali it was silent. The only sounds he could hear were of Link’s breathing, and his own heartbeat. 

The thunder whispered in the background

Revali smiled, while resting his beak on Link’s soft hair

Then finally, thoughts turned to dreams turned to peace; Revali slept sound as the rain pattered to the sound of his beating heart

HA god what a loser it’s so corny I could die. Who would even right such a thing ahahaahha— oh wait

[If you enjoyed this content, a like and a reblog is greatly appreciated! Let’s me know that I should make more, while also giving me that extra serotonin.]

[shih-coulda-had-it]

At work there is an ice maker we call bertha we refill the ice machines with it and sometimes when we are refilling ice the lid falls and hits us I head cannon for the coffee shop au gran has access to the store to grab a taiyaki before and after patrol as long as he does small misc. Things around the shop like refill ice, take out trash etc.

“You’re not closed yet?”

Nana whips her head up from under the counter, startled by the familiar voice at an unfamiliar time. Gran Torino, looking a little worse for wear, lingers at the storefront. Half-in and half-out, like he is unsure of his welcome.

It’s nearly seven in the evening. She had sent Toshinori off at six, and she doesn’t plan on closing until nine. Even if customers aren’t looking for an evening fix, Nana likes to brew herself a cup and survey the sidewalks.

“Don’t I have my hours listed on the door?”

“It doesn’t have numbers,” he informs her. “You wrote in kaomojis, and I’m not sure what the shrugging one means.”

“It means, ‘try your luck’! And lucky you, I’m still open.” She grins and beckons Torino inside. Does she still have taiyaki warming in the display case? Maybe he has enough time to wait for Nana to pour a new batch. “You really are new to the area, aren’t you?”

“Mn.”

“What can I get you?”

“The regular, please,” he says. Then he catches himself. “A small black coffee and…”

“If you can wait fifteen minutes, I can get you one fresh for the patrol?”

Gran Torino stiffens. A little mechanically, he says, “What patrol.”

“Well, Torino-san,” Nana drags out, spinning around to pluck a paper cup, fit it to a sleeve, and situate it under the dispenser. “You don’t have your messenger bag, and that sure isn’t civilian clothing. You wouldn’t be the first pro-hero looking to get a snack before patrol, y’know? Even the underground heroes need their kicks.”

“Room for cream, please.”

That was different. Nana obliges, caps the cup, and turns around to slide it over the counter. “Is that a yes to taiyaki? Fifteen minutes, I swear.”

He glances at the clock. “... I can wait.”

“Excellent!” she crows, and rings up the purchases. “That’s six-hundred yen.”

“I remember,” he says drily. Gran Torino dips his fingers into his belt, and then he freezes. Nana observes the flash of panic twisting his mouth into a grimace and the almost serene way he rechecks his person for money. “Um. Shit. I, uh…”

“Happens to all of us,” she says, not unkindly.

“Sorry.” Torino pushes the coffee back over to her end of the counter, but Nana steadies his wrist and holds him there.

“It’s okay,” Nana says firmly. Except she knows that Gran Torino is not the type of person to accept charity, even as a flirtation, so in the way of all managers, she finds a task that needs to be done. “In exchange, would you mind refilling the ice machine? Lots of customers in summer means lots of iced drinks, so it needs a bucket or two.”

Gran Torino considers the proposal for only a second. “Done,” he says. “Tell me what to do.”

“Ah, it’s self-explanatory. Walk in from over there,” as he follows her directions, Nana darts to the kitchen and preps the taiyaki pan, giving it a quick brushdown with melted butter and turning the stove on medium-low.

“Found the ice maker,” he reports from the front.

“The white bucket next to it, fill up as much as you can carry,” she calls back. “Oh! And be careful of the lid, it’s got--”

A low thonk and subsequent curse. Nana winces as she retrieves the chilled batter and red bean paste, stirring the former as she peeks out of the kitchen.

“You okay?”

“I’ve been told I have a hard head,” Torino says, and hefts the bucket of ice onto his shoulder. Nana tries not to stare. “Where does this go?”

“Uh,” Nana stalls. He doesn’t even look strained by the weight. His shoulders are broad and his chest is, well, present. Manufacturers of pro-hero gear must have some kind of agenda, because Nana can’t think of a good reason why a jumpsuit needs to be so tight. Even flight suits have some give, not to mention the necessity of insulation. Wait, what’s happening?

“Shimura-san.”

“Stepladder. One moment,” she blurts out, and hastily returns to pour the batter into the pan mold. Nana adds a generous scoop of the red bean paste, ladles additional batter over that, closes the pan and flips it.

Muscle memory helps her set the timer for two minutes, and then she is out behind the counter again.

Just in time to see Gran Torino brusquely dump the bucket of ice into the machine’s canister. Nana has the perfect line-of-sight to see the curvature of his rear. Is that what the cape’s for? To hide how the angled lines of Torino’s yellow belt, the ones she suspects trace the vee of his hipbones, connect over a truly enviable butt?

She can never talk gossip to Toshinori about his homeroom teacher again.

It’s just--it’s just unfair, that is.

“It’s near capacity.”

“Mm, typically my part-timer needs two trips to get the ice in,” she says distractedly. “I usually top it up overnight.”

“Do you,” he says.

“One less task to do in the morning. Budge over.” Impulse has her joining him on the stepladder, sneakily using Float to make sure Nana doesn’t topple them to the floor. Checking the capacity of the machine is just an excuse, since there’s no reason to doubt Torino’s judgment.

He’s quiet. Belatedly, Nana realizes that he is reassessing something. She cancels Float and balances her weight on one foot.

“Guess you were right,” she says, cheerful.

“I have a good eye,” Torino murmurs. “You wouldn’t be the first to use your Quirk for minor things in public, Shimura-san.”

“I won’t be the last to do it, either.”

“So long as others don’t catch you.”

“I’ve made it this long without a ticket,” Nana teases. “Are you gonna be the first?”

“I’m not on-duty yet,” Gran Torino says, and deliberately looks at his coffee. “So before you ask, you can’t bribe me with taiyaki. That’s strictly payment for the ice.”

“I’ll be sure to time my transgressions better.” Her timer beeps. She has about thirty seconds before she really has to flip the pan again, so Nana pulls out her best customer service voice. “When does your patrol end anyway, Torino-san?”

“... Midnight.”

“I’ll keep the second taiyaki ready for you, if you drop by again tonight,” she offers. Nana hops down to the floor, Float flickering on and off, just to soften the clap of her sneakers’ soles on the tile.

“I can’t ask that--”

She ducks into the kitchen and flips the pan, resets her timer and pokes her head out to check on Gran Torino exiting the employee-only space. He snags his coffee and pops the lid; he fills it with cream and sugar.

Aha, she thinks gleefully. She knew he couldn’t possibly like coffee straight from the pot. The taiyaki from the afternoon might have sweetened the bitter brew, but as of the evening’s coffee?

“Will you be impressed if I tell you that I basically live upstairs?” she asks Torino.

“You’re renting both the business and your apartment?”

“I own the land and the building,” Nana corrects.

“That can’t be cheap.”

“I’m a responsible business owner!” In response, he snorts into his coffee. “Anyway, if you don’t have anyone to check in with after patrol, just check in with me. Underground pro-heroes are advised to have some kind of handler, right?”

“We’re not government agents,” Torino says, frowning.

“Just say ‘yes,’” she tells him. “‘Yes, I will drop by your balcony and pick up my other taiyaki, Shimura-san.’”

Because she’s watching for it, Nana sees the slight twitch of his lips curling up into a smile.

“Yes, I will drop by your balcony and pick up my other taiyaki, Shimura-san,” he parrots.

[vodkaxtonic]

Unspoken Words •Kōtarō Bokuto x Reader•

Summary: Y/n and Bokuto are at the airport, saying their final goodbye's for now as Y/n is going to study at a university in Yokohoma. And even then, she can't bring herself to confess her feelings for her childhood best friend.

Warnings: Angst and fluff in the end

Wordcount: 1,9k

The atmosphere was suffocating, Bokuto and Y/n sitting next to each other on the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the airport. Y/n dreaded this day, the day she'd have to let Bokuto go. They knew each other since kindergarten, they grew up together, going through thick and thin, through tears and laughter. Now, this was going to be a rarity. 

"Y/n?" She turned her head to her best friend, admiring his eyes for a second before nodding his way, telling him to keep talking. "Do you want something from the vending machine?" He asked, awkwardly scratching the nape of his neck as he stood up. "Sure." She nodded, sighing deeply as her eyes followed his figure until he disappeared into the mass of people. Y/n had hoped this would be easier, but now it was awkward, both of them not wanting to say bye just yet. Right now, it felt like the last years flew past them like they only met yesterday. There was so much they still wanted to do together. 

"Here." Y/n startled as she saw her favorite drink in front of her, muttering a thank you before taking it, deeply sighing as she leaned back in the chair. "Bo?" "Mhm?" The silver-haired boy turned his attention toward her as he sat down, putting the straw into his milk carton. "Why is this so fucking hard?" Bo sighed as he realized she wouldn't meet his eyes, letting his free hand run over his face. "I don't know. I never thought there would be a day of us separated, and now I have to say farewell today." Bokuto admitted as he stared ahead, eyeing the people that walked past them as Y/n put her straw into her drink. "I hate it." She declared, taking a sip of the juice. "Okay, let's stop moping around. We still have time to mope around later." Y/n grinned as she turned her body towards Bokuto, who did the same, crossing his legs. 

"So, do you think you'll get a boyfriend in Yokohoma?" Bokuto tried to ask as subtle as possible, his golden eyes not meeting hers as he took a long sip of his drink. "I don't think so, but we'll see what happens." As much as this answer calmed Bokuto, it also worried him. Something about Y/n with another man by her side made his blood boil in a way he couldn't understand. "What about you? I mean, there are a lot of pretty women in Osaka, and you're joining the MSBY Black Jackals. There are going to be a lot of women who'll want you," Y/n grinned, despite the pain that erupted deep within her chest. However, in the end, she knew she couldn't claim Bokuto. Even if there was a chance of them ending up together, the distance between them would be too much, especially over the years. "I know...but do they want Bokuto the volleyball player or Kōtarō Bokuto? I don't need someone by my side who loves me for something the media will portray me as. I need someone who loves me for who I am, who knows me." Y/n's breath hitched as her eyes met his, golden eyes staring right into hers, and for a second, it seemed like the world stopped spinning before a smile covered her face. "The girl who'll win your heart will be so lucky, Bokuto." She reassured, blinking away the tears that prickled at her eyes. Of course, it hurt letting him go, but his happiness was her priority, even if it wasn't with her. "Not when my heart beats for someone else already." Another painful tug at her heart. "I knew you fell in love with  Akaashi." That made them both laugh, as Y/n let her fingers run under her eyes, wiping away the upcoming tears. 

"Flight 287 from Tokyo to Yokohoma will board in twenty minutes." Y/n's ears perked up when she heard her flight, her heart sinking at the announcement. "That's your flight, huh," Bokuto stated, a frown covering the ace's face as he turned his head towards her. She only nodded, playing with her fingers as tears started welling up in her eyes. So, this was it. That was the end of their shared chapter. She wouldn't be at his games anymore, not the one wearing his spare jersey, making sure to be louder than everyone else there, despite losing her voice the next day. He wouldn't be the one picking her up in the middle of the night for McDonald's, singing their favorite songs loudly, as if it was their last day together. 

With a sigh, Y/n stood up, but before she got a chance to lift her bag, a familiar hand gripped her forearm halting in her movements. Her eyes darted up to Bokuto's as his eyes filled with tears, and he tried to keep his sniffles down before he let go. "No..." She muttered in shock as she saw him take off his Fukurōdani volleyball jacket. Bokuto knew that Y/n loved this jacket since ever, however, Y/n never had the chance to tell him that she loved it because it smelled like him, and it helped her aching heart for him. Y/n couldn't help the tears that fell down her face as he took it off, slowly wrapping it around her shoulders as she slipped her arms through the sleeves. They both stopped as she had to jacket on, his hands still on her shoulders as she looked up at him. Kiss him, she thought. It would be a perfect time. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him close as she buried her head in his chest, letting her tears flow as her body got raked by sobs. She ignored the way his breath ragged as salty tears wetted her hair, silently slipping something into his back pocket of his sweatpants, before embracing him tightly. 

"Oh, Jesus." She muttered as she let go, chuckling as she wiped the tears once again, even though they didn't dare to stop flowing. "An emotional rollercoaster," Bokuto muttered as he let his fingers wipe away his tears. Y/n only nodded before heaving her bag over her shoulder, her hand wrapping around the handle of her suitcase. "Don't forget about me when you're famous! Also, be safe, idiot!" She exclaimed, a bright smile on her face as she slowly walked away from him. Bokuto smiled, despite every fiber in his body calling out for her. "You too! Text me, and call me when you land!" He brightly smiled as he waved, not wanting to make this goodbye even harder than it was. 

Now Y/n was sitting in her assigned seat, not being able to stop crying as she buried her face in the collar of the Bokuto's jacket, deeply inhaling the smell that was almost too familiar. God, why didn't she say anything? Why wasn't she brave for once?

Bokuto's face was buried deep in his large hands as sobs racked his body, glad that he managed to keep his tears at bay until he was safe in his car. Now his best friend, the girl he had a crush on for years now, was moving away, moving hundreds of miles away from him. 

Bokuto's eye furrowed as he felt something pocking his backside, and he let his hand slip into the back pocket of his sweats. Once again, tears streamed down his face when he saw the polaroid in his hand, a warm smile covering his face. It was a picture of a weekend trip they did together with Kuroo and Kenma. They were sleeping, Y/n beside Bokuto, his arms wrapped tightly around her, her face nuzzled in the crook of his neck and legs entangled with each other. Once again, it made his heart ache. Why didn't he say anything?

______

THREE YEARS LATER 

"What are you doing today, Bokuto? Where is your spirit?" One of his teammates asked with a shake of his head as Bokuto fucked up what felt like the hundredth spike today. "Sorry," Bokuto muttered, groaning as he let his hands run over his face. He couldn't exactly tell what was ticking him off today, but it made him more than depressed. Today he wasn't even close to being good enough for this team. The other team seemed to catch on his mood, making sure to spike the ball into his direction a lot more, gaining point after point.

"Come on, Bo! You got this!" Bokuto's whole body froze on the spot as he heard the voice, despite the cheering and chattering of the other fans that had gathered in the arena. So familiar yet so strange, so close yet so far away. His eyes widened as he stood up straight, his body turning until his eyes fell upon her. Y/n. The way she stood there, eyes bright with happiness, his current jersey hugging her body, over it his old Fukurōdani jacket. He blinked rapidly, wanting to make sure she is real, and a bright smile covered his face as she waved over to him, making the girls beside her look at her with a dirty look. 

Just seeing Y/n seemed to spike another flame deep within him as he spiked the ball, now gaining point after point for their team. His teammates wondered what had changed, but they certainly didn't question it. They were just glad that Bokuto seemed to find his old spirit.

Loud cheering erupted around them as Bokuto got the final point for their team, however, his eyes only focused on Y/n, who cheered loudly, a bright smile on her face. "Bokuto-" Before their captain could say anything else, he sprinted across the arena, all eyes on him as he jumped the fence that separated the bleachers from the field. Y/n's eyes widened as the girls beside her started screaming when Bokuto ran over, stopping in front of her. And as they stared at each other, still in shock, it seemed to drown out the screaming of the girls and the whispers that filled the arena. 

Before Bokuto could say anything, Y/n's hand wrapped around the collar of his jersey, pulling him down as she pressed her lips onto his hungrily. For a second, he froze under her grip before wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, letting himself melt into her. "This was long overdue." Y/n panted, cheeks flushed as she let go of Bokuto, his arms still tightly wrapped around her. "Definitely." He chuckled, eyes glowing brightly, a breathtaking smile on his face as he shielded her a bit from the curious cameras of the reporters. "And now go get your medal." She grinned, pressing another kiss onto his lips before detangling herself from his arms, making him fake-pout before he turned around, jumping over the fence and jogging back to his confused teammates. 

Y/n smiled to herself as the girls beside her gave her jealous looks, but her eyes were only focused on Bokuto, who happily took his medal, his eyes gazing over to her more than he'd like to admit. Maybe their closed chapter just opened up a new one, a one both had dreamed of for years.