#i just love the idea of these two joining forces in roasting the living shit out of roderick

[forsworned]

No One Noticed ft. Hesh Walker

Synopsis: Feeling lonely and disconnected, you find solace in an online gaming forum where you meet Hesh, a war veteran who secretly works as an elite member of the Ghosts task force. Despite Hesh's initial tough exterior, he's soft for you and bonds through shared gaming experiences, late-night texts, and calls. Eager to bring their digital connection into the real world, You're convinced by your newfound virtual love to fly to his city to explore a potential relationship. Will your connection flourish or go to shit?

Warnings: Canon Game Violence, Canon Violence, Sexual Content, Phone Sex, Sexting, PnV sex, Cunninglingus, Blowjob, 9.8k words

Author's note: This song makes me so emotional and who better to write this for than my love, Hesh

If you could change anything, it would be your soul-sucking day job. Typing away at transcripts behind your desk is tedious, mind-numbing, and downright exhausting. You glance at the clock—it finally reads 4:30PM. A sigh of relief escapes you as you save your work and close the tab. The hum of your old office lamp and the clatter of your keyboard are the only sounds breaking the monotony. Your eyes ache from the screen's glare, and the cold air in the office makes the warmth of your couch even more inviting.

Ping!

The chat pop-up lights up your dim screen, and you feel a sudden rush of serotonin.

MyDawgRiley99: Your day been as shitty as mine?

A soft laugh escapes you as you read his message. Since joining a gaming lobby with a group of military guys during a late-night Fortnite session, you've found yourself playing with them almost every time they invite you. You never really pried into their daily lives; you were just looking to unwind. And yet, some nights, one of them would linger after the others had logged off, not to play, but simply to talk and unwind.

And over time, you began to savor the sound of his voice, finding comfort in its deep, resonant tone. You bite your bottom lip before typing away at your keyboard:

CtrlFreak: Seems like we're both in the trenches today.

As you're about to close out the tab, his reply bubble immediately appears, and you feel your spirits lift.

MyDawgRiley99: Long day at the office?

You scoff, shaking your head. Maybe you’re sharing too much with someone you’ve only met online, but you think to yourself, If he's half as sexy as he sounds, it should be okay, right? Right??

CtrlFreak: Like you wouldn't believe. I'm two seconds away from losing it.

MyDawgRiley99: Well, let's try to fix that. Same time?

You glance at your stack of requests and exhale sharply. Falling behind on deadlines and getting chewed out by your boss isn't your idea of relaxation, but for one night, just one freakin' night...

CtrlFreak: I really shouldn't...

MyDawgRiley99: Just one match?

You snort softly. You know what that means. One match turns into five, with hours of talking in between while you sit in the lobby. Sometimes, others join, and it’s nothing but a constant roast session that leaves you craving more genuine human interaction. It’s a vicious cycle.

CtrlFreak: I'll think about it. MyDawgRiley99: Haha, I'll be waiting for ya.

You shut your laptop and press your forehead against the warm alloy. The constant burnout of your job leaves you unfocused, fatigued, and jittery from all the espresso shots you need just to stay awake.

But you decide to join anyway. He immediately joins your party the moment you load into the lobby.

"Almost thought you wouldn't hop on tonight." His voice comes through your headset, instantly relaxing you.

The corners of your lips curl into a smile. "What can I say? You've tempted me."

He chuckles, and it's flirty, light, fun, and easy. In this moment, you want nothing more than to relish the escapism that comes from the unknown soldier on the other side of your screen. Amidst your grueling workday, his voice is like a coolness that soothes your burning heart, pulling you from the depths of mundanity into a world where conversation flows as smoothly as his laughter.

You tap on your controller, trying to control the strange desire stirring within you. You have no idea what he looks like—or what any of them look like, really.

Truthfully, you never bothered to ask for names. You referred to each other by the first initial of your real names. His being 'H.'

"You wanna talk about it?" The sound of him munching on chips comes through the speaker, causing you both to laugh. "My bad."

"All good. Nah, I'm just burned out." You readjust yourself on your sofa and lean back against the cushion, closing your eyes as you savor the sound of his smooth tenor.

"I get that. Trust me."

You feel that smile returning. "Right, right."

"Well," he begins, playfully defensive at your casual dismissal. "I'm just sayin'—"

Your laughter echoes through the headset, and he sighs, the smile on his face growing at your teasing. "Always gettin’ me worked up."

"You fall for it every time." You retort. Your mirth fades, and it's quiet for a moment. You tap at your controller again, playing with the joystick as your heart begins to race. There's almost a need to ask him to reveal himself to you. After all those nights dreaming about him, you find yourself yearning to know what he looks like.

"So," he clears his throat, shaking you out of your mild daze. "um, I don't want you to feel like you have to, but..."

You sit up a bit, feeling your throat go dry at his sudden change in tone. You can literally feel the tension through the connection.

"Well, I'm just kind of curious about, you know," his voice holds hesitation, an eagerness to pry. It creates a charged silence between you. The playful teasing shifts into something more earnest, and you can almost hear the curiosity in his tone as he tries to find the right words.

"Uh huh," you playfully taunt. You can tell where this is going, and you can't help but feel exhilarated at the thought of finally knowing what he looks like.

He chuckles, and it sends a thrill up your spine. "Uhhhh," he awkwardly laughs again, and you join in. The smile on your lips stretches broadly across your face, making your cheeks sore.

"I mean, we've been talking on here for months, so I'm just curious about how you look, you know?" He sighs. "Aren't you?"

You giggle at the apprehensiveness in his voice. "Seems like it's been weighing on your mind."

"Something like that." He clears his throat. "Obviously, it can stay this way. No pressure."

You scratch your head, feeling trepidation seeping into your bones. It isn't a now-or-never moment. You could simply say no or maybe another time, but you feel this irresistible pull from him. You think that even if he isn't the most attractive guy, it's not the end of the world...

"Okay." You simply say.

"Really!?" He exclaims, and you laugh at his enthusiasm. It's endearing, really. It's the lack of a social life that's really doing it for you. You think that maybe if you started going on Hinge again, you wouldn't have this problem of getting emotionally attached to men in Fortnite lobbies. But all of that falls into the back of your mind as you return to the present.

You're a bit tentative, but the words naturally come out. "Sure, I'm curious too." You breathe out, fiddling with the wire of your headphones between your fingers. There are dents from the hours you’ve spent on your console, talking to him during the late hours of the night.

"Yeah?" The way he says it sends a thrill up your spine again. You just know this man is sexy. Dammit.

"Yeah." You reply, almost reluctantly, as you walk over to your desktop and pull up your Discord server. Your cursor hovers over the video chat button, but he pings himself in, and you reflexively close the tab.

"What the fuck?" He laughs, and you crumble at his reaction, hiding your face in your hands.

Your heart pounds as you feel warmth crawl into your cheeks. "I'm sorry!"

He's still laughing at your reaction. You can't tell if it's because he thinks it's funny how quickly you exited or if he finds you as endearing as you find him.

"Are you shy?" He asks, still chuckling. You swallow thickly, not wanting to answer immediately. It's been far too long since you've been in the dating scene, and you’ve forgotten the simple pleasure of face-to-face flirting, reading the micro-expressions of the person across from you. To you, it was like a game—analyzing the strain on their face when you talk about your interests instead of your kinks, the bounce of their thighs when you're not throwing back sexual banter, or the way you check to see if they bear their teeth at you when they smile. It was easier knowing he was just a voice, but now it seems like he's reeling you in for more, and you find yourself struggling to say no.

You didn't want to deal with the high highs and the low lows anymore. The boring simplicity of a quiet relationship is what you craved, but a military man? That's tumultuous, grueling even. You didn't want to go back to nights of crying yourself to sleep over a man who refused to take your calls or reply to your texts because of their emotional distance and lack of therapy. But you're craving attention, and he's so willing to give it to you.

You groan at his reaction. "Fine," you grumble as you open the chat again and nibble your lip, lingering over the tab that shows he's active.

"No pressure," he teases, a hint of mischief in his tone. It's daring, and you’re no coward. You click the tab, joining the video call, and your heart races as you wait for it to load, stripping off your headset.

And then there he is, swaying in his gaming chair, his face lighting up when you enter the call.

"Oh shit," he grins, and you cover your mouth to hide the joy in your expression because he's fucking hot. The grittiness of the webcam blurs his handsome features, but you can still make out the sharpness of his jawline, the intensity of his viridian eyes, and the darkness of his short-cropped hair. He strokes the stubble on his cheeks, not even bothering to hide his obvious attraction. He's brunette, rugged, and attractive enough to make you want to buy a lottery ticket because you can't believe your luck. "What's up, girl?”

You feel the color drain from your face at his tone, and you quickly wave in the most awkward fashion. He looks even more amused. You realize you're not used to being looked at this way by men, and your shyness catches him off guard. "What's the matter?"

You shake your head. "N-nothing," you stammer, fiddling with the wire again. The momentary distraction of your desk lamp is all that keeps you from looking at him directly.

"Come on, don't be shy now," he coos, smiling so widely that it almost makes you want to melt into your chair.

You stare at the small thumbnail of yourself on the screen, feeling somewhat more exposed than you're used to. After a few seconds, you finally allow yourself to look at him again.

"I don't know," you laugh. "I wasn't expecting you to look like that."

"Oh yeah?" He chuckles, and you catch a glimpse of his dimples. "What were you expecting, then?"

"An ogre," you joke.

He throws his head back, laughing. "Damn, you really had no faith in me." he jokes back, and you're both nervously giggling at your first video chat. It’s awkward in all the right ways. The tension between you increases, but it’s different now. The curtain of anonymity you both sought on this platform has been lifted.

You shake your head, still bashful from his handsomeness. It irritates you. One hot guy gives you attention, and you're falling to your knees.

"Not one bit." You tuck your lips into your mouth, and he leans his chin on his palm, admiring the details of your face. You're just not ready to admit your attraction yet. You’d rather let it linger in the air, maybe make him pine for your compliments.

There's another pause as the playful banter fades into a softer, more charged silence. The tension hangs in the air, neither of you quite sure what to say next. You chew your lip, still somewhat unsure of how you want this to go. But before you can overthink it, he speaks up again.

"So... maybe we could meet up sometime?" His voice is tentative, like he's not quite ready for your answer.

You blink, taken aback. "Oh, um," you bite your bottom lip, feeling the tension in your shoulders. "That sounds cool."

His smile widens, and there's something almost boyish in his excitement. "Yeah?"

You nod, giving him a shy smile. "Yeah."

"Alright then," he grins. "Let's see where this goes."

He sways in his chair again and grins. "So, did you wanna talk about it?"

And that’s the start of long conversations over the phone—your actual phone—after he asks for your number, and you coyly give it to him. More often than not, he's testing the limits of your humor with dark memes, sending you selfies and mirror pics in his uniform that you shamelessly drool over, and FaceTiming you during his night shifts to keep him company while you sprawl out on your bed.

In his downtime, he shamelessly fists at his dick at the mere thought of you. Those pretty lips on his leaking tip, licking up the precum that oozes out and coats the plushness of your flesh. He wonders how you taste, what makes you moan, because at this point it’s obvious you’re both really into each other. Neither of you wants to break the ice—you simply enjoy the flirting and the cutesy banter. He loves the way you giggle at his stupid jokes and how you seem to show a little more skin the more calls you have.

Like when you get up from your seat, and instead of wearing your usual sweats, you’re now sporting a pair of curve-hugging plaid shorts and a flimsy tank top with straps that are always slipping off your shoulders. And it’s painfully obvious when he flares his nose playfully at you and glances away. Maybe there’s a subtle gesture of him adjusting himself, and you throw your head back, not bothering to hide the delight in your laughter.

"You know what you're doing," he quips, drumming his fingers on his work table.

You lean back in your chair and fiddle with the squishy cactus stress toy, stretching out the arms and letting them go with a pop. "I have no idea what you’re talking about," you chime with a giggle.

His eyes fall on your braless figure, cleavage spilling out of the V-shaped collar, tracing the outline of your nipples that peak through the sheer fabric.

"Yes, you do," he insists, gripping the hem of his compression shorts as they strain against his throbbing dick.

There’s a glimmer of mischief in your eye. "And what's that?"

He doesn’t miss a beat. "Being a sexy little vixen." His eyes roam your body again, and you hide your burning face. God, his directness was always so sexy to you. He never bothered to hide the way he felt. Especially when he would heart every selfie you sent him, throwing praises your way like you were the only woman in the world.

"You're not foolin’ me," he presses on, grabbing his planner and clicking his pen as he begins to jot something down.

Your curiosity piques. "What are you doing?"

He chuckles. "Wouldn’t you like to know?" He provocatively glances up at you. "I’m writing down the dates that I’m off."

"For?"

"When I meet you."

Your eyes widen at his boldness, and a shy smile graces your lips. "Meet me?" Your heart picks up its rhythm, and you’re trying your hardest not to get too giddy about it.

He taps his metal pen against the paper, leans back in his chair, and licks his lips. "Is that a problem?"

You hadn’t expected him to be so forward about meeting you. Fuck, he looks so damn edible when he manspreads, looking nonchalant and relaxed. He can sense your yearning but also your hesitation.

He leans forward again, sincerity coming easy to him. "Look," he begins, wanting to comfort you, to assure you he won’t take advantage of you, but he knows it’s a privilege to be in your presence.

"I know you’ve probably heard this a million times: 'You won’t get hurt, you can trust me.' And I know it’s an absolute luxury to even exist alongside you."

That makes you blush. It’s so easy to tell that he was raised right.

"But this," he gestures between the two of you, "I want to know if it’s real. There’s only so much I can tell from behind a screen."

You understand what he means. The essence of a person—their aura, their charisma—is so much more tangible and real when you meet them in person. Seeing their quirks, their habits, feeling their energy. It’s different.

"I know you know what I mean."

You nod. "I do." You lick your lips, searching for the right response. There’s really no doubt in your mind that you want to meet him. I mean, for God's sake, he's mouthwatering. The way his abs peek out from under his loose shirt when he stretches, the playful way he flexes his taut biceps, his calloused hands hardened from war and long hours at the gym. He's just delectable all around.

But are you willing to take the leap?

Somehow, you're still asking yourself that as you peer out the window of the airplane. Your ticket is paid for—first class, with all the accommodations…it’s like a dream.

The landscape below is a patchwork of rebuilt cities and scarred land, signs of a world that has been through hell but is clawing its way back.You can’t help but wonder if this is a glimpse into the future you’re stepping into. A life beyond the screen, in a world where the remnants of war are slowly being overtaken by new growth, where hope is becoming tangible again.

The plane touches down smoothly on a newly restored runway, and as you step into the terminal, you’re greeted by the sight of soldiers, workers, and civilians mingling in a place that once might have been a warzone. Your heart races with anticipation, nervousness, and a hint of something deeper. This isn’t just about meeting him—it’s about stepping into a world that both of you are trying to find your place in.

He’s waiting for you just outside the baggage claim, leaning casually against a pillar. The grittiness of the webcam is replaced by the crisp reality of his presence. The sharpness of his jawline, the vividness of his eyes, and the way his uniform fits him perfectly—it all hits you at once. You realize that you weren’t fully prepared for how striking he’d be in person.

The moment stretches between you, just like it did during your video calls, but now there’s no screen to hide behind. His eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail as if he’s trying to memorize you all over again. And then, with a grin that sends a shiver down your spine, he steps forward.

“Hey,” he says, his voice lower and more resonant in person, sending a thrill through you.

“Hey,” you reply, trying to keep your cool, but the way your voice trembles gives you away.

His grin widens, and he reaches out, his hand brushing against yours. The touch is electric, sending sparks through your body. He notices the way you react and chuckles softly, not even trying to hide his satisfaction.

“You’re just as pretty as I imagined,” he says, his bluntness making your cheeks heat up.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” you manage to tease, though your heart is pounding in your chest.

He laughs, a sound that’s warm and genuine, and it eases some of the tension between you. He leans into you, enveloping you into a warm embrace and you easily return it as you snake your arms around his neck. The smell of his aftershave engulfs your senses and you relax into his touch. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” he says, withdrawing from you to grab your bag effortlessly as he leads you toward the exit.

Outside, the air is fresher than you expected, a sign that nature is beginning to reclaim the earth. The city around you is a mix of new constructions and old ruins. It’s almost nothing like the California you remember. He leads you to a sleek, black SUV and opens the passenger door for you.

As you settle into your seat, you glance at him as he climbs in, feeling a mix of emotions. This is the man you’ve spent hours talking to, flirting with, and getting to know through a screen. Now he’s here, real and tangible, and the chemistry between you is undeniable.

He catches you staring and smirks, reaching over to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “You alright?” he asks, his voice soft but with an edge of excitement.

You nod, your heart racing with anticipation. “Yeah,” you nervously avert your gaze and nod. “Yeah, I think I am.”

Hesh nods, giving you a reassuring smile. “So, here’s the plan,” He hands you the aux cord. And you grin as you take it from him. “We’re gonna head back to the base,”

He sees you visibly stiffen. “But,” And you raise your brows waiting for him to continue. “We’re going back to my place after we check you in.”

You let out a sigh of relief and he laughs, as he watches you plug your phone in and shake your head. 

“Come on, you know that I live off base.” Hesh occasionally glances over at you, as if making sure you’re comfortable while you shuffle through your playlist. He seems to be the picture of calm, but you can sense the underlying tension that lingers between you two.

You say nothing and end up settling on a song you both love (mostly you).

You should stay real close to Jesus Keep that bottle at your hand, my man

He chuckles at your pick, and reaches over to hold your hand. A wave of comfort washes over you. “Go ahead. Tell me I’m Lana coded for the hundredth time.”

You giggle at him and sit up a bit. “You are!”

He shakes his head and lets the song play, humming along to the tune and you’re actively burning it into your mind. It’s something you want to remember every detail of. The way he squeezes your hand while the other is on his steering wheel, tapping his finger at the steering wheel. How thick his dark lashes are, how pretty his viridian hues are when they peek over at you to make sure you’re real and not a figment of his imagination.

As you approach the base, the outer level is a standard Marine military facility, with its usual array of buildings and vehicles. It’s not completely unknown to you. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been on a military base. Military personnel pinlines the large metal gate and one of the guards approaches the vehicle as Hesh fishes out his ID.

“Alright, here’s the deal,” Hesh says as you pull up to the guard. “I’ll have to check you in at the visitor’s center first. They don’t let civilians past this point without clearance.”

You nod, trying to hide your nerves as he pulls into a parking lot near the visitor’s center. He senses your apprehension and turns fully to you, gently grasping your hand. “Hey,” He reaches out to cup your chin, and your breath catches in your throat. His earthy green eyes are trained on you. “God, you’re so pretty.” His fingers gently trace your chin, and you fluster under his fixed gaze. “We’re gonna be outta here in no time, and we’ll spend the whole week together, m’kay?”

“Okay.” You squeeze his hand back, and he brings your wrist to his lips, placing a yearning kiss to your skin. It feels as if it were searing to the touch.

Hesh escorts you into the visitor center, a space designed for civilians to wait while military personnel handle their business. He gives you a reassuring smile before heading to the more secure parts of the base. You watch as he disappears into the maze of corridors, leaving you with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

After what feels like an eternity, Hesh returns, his face relaxed and his eyes bright. “All set,” he says, offering you his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

You take his hand, and he leads you back to the SUV. The tension between you two is almost palpable, but it’s softened by the warmth of his touch and the promise of time together away from the base.

The scenery changes to one of a regular suburban neighborhood.  From the white picket fences to the restaurants that line the streets to the long lines of cypress and palm trees, you wouldn’t even know the difference. 

“Oh my God, there’s a Taco Bell!” You point out and Hesh laughs at the incredulousness in your tone. 

“Yeah, it’s like any other cookie cutter neighborhood.” He turns into a cul de sac, pulling into the driveway of the biggest home on the block. It’s a mediterranean style home, classic red roof tiles, a stucco exterior with metal work accents. There’s personal touches of greenery, succulents in various sized terracotta pots, a handful of olive trees and wildflowers that maze around the stone path. 

“This is cookie cutter!?” You exclaim, as he helps you out of the vehicle. “You have a sweet crib.”

He smirks at you, carrying your suitcase with one hand and your hand in the other. “Just wait til you see the inside.”

And somehow the interior is much more obnoxiously cozy and earthy. It’s truly a delight to be in a home where beachy tones of seafoam green, turquoise and cerulean are the main color scheme. It really makes you feel like you're on vacation. 

“...and if you’re really down, we can go to the beach…[name]?” He calls out to you and your wandering eyes land back on him. He grins at you, closing the space between you two. “You listenin’?”

“Not really,” You shamelessly admit. “Your place is lovely. Like something out of a magazine.”

He chuckles as he moves past you to climb up the winding staircase with your carry-on and suitcase. “Play your cards right, and this could be yours, too.”

You turn around ripping out of your stupor, “Huh?”

“Nothin’.” He softly snorts, and you follow him the stairs as he shows you to his room. He gives you the option of the guest bedroom or his. You notice little things around the home that paths the walls, small trinkets, memorabilia and photo frames of family members. It all looks different in person, even if he’s given you a house tour over FaceTime.

Peeking into his room, you notice how everything is neatly organized, band posters of Creed, Papa Roach and the like are hung up on his forest green walls. A diffuser runs on his nightstand and it smells like something between sandalwood and amber vanilla. He’s taken all the necessary precautions to make you feel homey.

“Your room.” You smile at him, and he’s more than eager to please. The conversation flows just as easy as it does in person, even as you tell him to turn around while you strip down to get into your bikini.

He promised you all the beach time you could get, and despite the minor jetlag that nags at your slightly foggy mind, you were in the mood to sunbathe. Bonus that you get to show off your summer bod and Hesh is more than willing to peel off his shirt for some much needed skin-to-skin. Even if he can just wrap his taut, tanned arm around your waist to claim you, he’s just happy to be in your company.  

“So, what about the others?” you cock a brow at him, as he flagrantly eyes your figure while you build a sandcastle.

He shakes his head and scoffs, viridian hues trailing down the exposed parts of your skin. “Others?”

You tuck your finger under his chin, signaling for him to look at you and not ogle your body. “Yeah, your other teammates that we play with?”

“Oh right…” He gets lost in your eyes and the way they softly crinkle when you smile, followed by the melodic sound of your laughter and he can’t help but to laugh with you. “They don’t need to know you’re here. Besides, they’re preoccupied.”

You tilt your head. “With?”

He pauses. There’s vacillation behind the earthiness of his eyes. A certain type of secrecy that goes beyond the typical confidentiality that comes with being in the military. “Just stuff.”

“Okay,” You shake your head, not wanting to interrogate him. In the past, he had mentioned that a lot of the things he does out in the field require the utmost discretion and you’re not one to scruple around and find out.

You’d done enough research and background checks to know that he was a military brat, a veteran, has a dog named Riley (whom he misses terribly, but had to go on an op with his brother, Logan), and is oddly passionate about sourdough starters. He’s always open to answering your questions that don’t revolve around his work, which again you’re not entitled to know but you couldn’t say you weren’t the least bit intrigued.

The rest of the day plays out like a dream. Not a single one of your vivid, maladaptive daydreams could touch this. From the way he carries you to the waters of the Pacific Ocean and you cling to him with sea salt in your hair to the way your first kiss sends a thrill of pure electricity up your spine as the sunsets. His lips are soft, plush and salty from the water, and his fingers and hands are as calloused and rough as you had imagined them.

And you literally can’t get enough of him. Especially when he just can’t seem to keep his hands off of you. Seriously, like you need a crowbar to pry them off because he’s attached to the hip. Of course, he lets you go when you need to rinse off the beach from your skin in his shower, but he can’t help but let his thoughts wander. Your wet, naked untouched body just standing under his enclosure he’s installed in the backyard like you’re waiting to be ravaged by him. 

Because dammit that’s what you want. To have him slip in, wrap his strong arms around your waist, pebbling your nipples between his fingertips as he kisses at your neck and bends you over--

“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just gonna wait here for as long as you need.” He sarcastically remarks over the sound of the running water. You giggle at the playfulness in his tone.

“Oh, I’ll take all night, baby.” You scrub at your skin with the loofa he gave you, watching as the soap becomes sudsy white foam that covers your body. And he accidentally gets a glimpse through the cracks in the bamboo casting and--Lord have mercy on his soul. If it weren’t for the body wash he’d given you from earlier, you’d be all exposed to him.

“Don’t tempt me.” He mutters, sitting on the nearby bench just outside of the shower, fiddling with his drawstrings of his swimming trunks. It’s a failed attempt at trying to quell his dirty thoughts of you and keep his wandering eyes away from the little opening he can see you through.

You swallow thickly as you exfoliate your back, but your arms are sore from trying to get back into shape before meeting with him. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to propose…

“You wanna wash my back for me?”

There’s a pause. The weight of your words and the heavy silence is agonizing, leaving you in regret and pre-dejection. 

“You sure?” He says a bit too quietly, and you hear the sound of his feet shifting against the sandstone. 

You lick your lips and nod. “Yeah, I mean only if you want to…”

He chuckles, “don’t have to ask me twice.” And you hear the scuffling of his feet hitting the grit of the sandy covered stone floor. You hold your breath as he pads on the bamboo panels over to you, and you hear the distinct sharp inhale the moment he gets a full glimpse of you. You feel your shyness overcome you knowing you are now completely bare to him, but the sound of his wet swimming trunks being casted to the side makes you flinch. 

His warmth and his scent casts a shadow over your mind as he envelops you with his arms, taking the soapy loofa from your hands. You can feel his heart drumming against his chest as your shaky breaths mingle for a bit, but the bristles scrub at your upper and lower back preoccupy your mind. You can feel how he squeezes the soap down the swell of your ass and gets to work again.

“I said, my back.” You susurrate, half turning to him and he smirks. 

“My bad, should I stop?” He presses his lips against your shoulder and peeks up at you with dampened dark lashes. You shudder at his touch. It had been long, too long. His touch is making the pyre in your lower belly ignite and you can’t help but lean your weight against him, exposing your neck to him. “I need you to use your words, sweetheart…”

You whine at his pressing need for verbal confirmation. “No, don’t stop.” He hums against your skin and he gently exfoliates over the peaks of your breast, concentrating on how they pebble under his touch. He experimentally thumbs over the hardened bud, tweaking it between his fingers as he kisses the sweet spots on your neck. It’s a pleasurable feeling that leaves you tingly and throbbing. 

You can feel his hardening length pressing against your ass and you gently brush your fingers against it, and he reflexively bucks his hips. “Eager, are we?”

“I could say the same for you!” You chirp, and his laughter reverberates against your back. He gently takes your chin to face him, and he glances down at your flustered gaze before softly latching his lips to yours. His hands, however, do not stop moving. They’re roaming over the expanse of your breast, squeezing at your thighs as he continues to kiss and squeeze you. 

It’s fucking hot the way he can’t help but intermingle his moans with you, whispering your name as he finally slips his fingers between your thighs. And you glance up at him with a half-lidded gaze, lips parted and scrunched brows. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

He’s totally melting under your fervent gaze, and the sweet, sweet feeling of your velvety folds against the rough pads of his fingers. 

“Oh, fuck…David…” You gasp, lolling your eyes to the back of your skull. His dick isn’t even in you yet and yet, his fingers are doing more for you than any other man. It’s so easy for him to work both of his fingers into you as he uses his palm to rub at your clit.

“My God, you are so wet.” He croaks, thrusting his fingers into you, past your g-spot and to press against your cervix and you collapse against him when you feel your orgasm practically jump you. He feels you spasm against him, walls fluttering against his fingers and presses his lips against yours again, taking in every one of your little moans and gasps. 

And after you’ve caught your breath, there’s a flash of amusement that takes over his handsome features. “I didn’t think you’d cum so quickly.” He tenderly kisses your shoulder, and then your cheek and up to your hair. You feel your cheeks burn, silently cursing him for his agile fingers, but the humiliation is over in seconds when you turn your body to press flush against his. 

The kiss is electrifying, adrenaline shoots through you and you’re craving more and more of him. His lips part from yours for an instant and he tucks the dampened strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Not everything all at once, sweetheart.” He grins, and your jaw slightly drops at his taunting. He bites his lips at the disbelief in your expression. He wants to ensure that you know that he’s not in it for the quick fuck, that you’re more than that to him. That he’s more than happy to please you, but the sex part. He wants to wait a little. Make sure that you’re really comfortable and you’re not feeling like you’re being coerced into it. 

You sigh as you surf through the 1000s of channels he has on 70 inch plasma screen TV while he takes a long ass piss. Like seriously, this man drinks water by the gallon. But you’re content. You’re sitting on the end of his bed, clad in his Nike hoodie that sits oversized on your body and he’s quietly admiring you from the bathroom door way.  He’s wondering how he got so damn lucky. 

He silently treks over to where you’re perched over the bed, and squats in between your legs, snaking his strong arms against you. His eyes hold an earnest expression, “I can’t believe we met over a Fortnite lobby.”

And that causes you to giggle and rehash all the late night matches you’ve had together, how he’s listened to you pour your heart out to him about all of your troubles and even Venmo’d you a handful of times out of the kindness of his heart.

He watches how your eyes droop, and how any minute you’re about to knock out cold. And soon he’s ushering you under the covers, snug as a bug under his cotton-linen sheets. He joins you from behind, the scent of you is overwhelming and he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck. The floral, musky scent of your shampoo is interwoven into your hair paired with your soft snores, easily helping him drift into a deep sleep. 

And when you wake up in the morning it still doesn’t settle in. Not when you wake up to him sleepily rubbing his eyes and peering up at you with that damn grin of his, not when you’re beside him brushing your teeth over his sink and definitely not when you’re sitting across from him on the kitchen bar as he makes you breakfast with nothing but his grey sweats barely hanging off his hips.

It’s cute. The way you two feed each other pancakes and eggs, and how you share the equal feeling of bafflement when you’re facing each other, unable to undo the heap of twisted limbs. Despite his lack of interest in having you meet his teammates yesterday, he wants nothing more than to show you off. In fact, that’s all he does when he’s holding your hand out in the shopping area, buying you anything you happen to say is cute or that you try on that’s very much to his liking. 

He’s getting stopped by soldiers who are also meandering through the streets of San Diego and word gets around fast because soon the crew knew about your sudden appearance all over his Instagram story and the group chat is poppin'.

Logan: No way you flew her out here… Keegan: Kids’, got balls Merrick: I’ll have a word with you when we get back Kick: Wait…who is this again?

“I’m assuming they’re taking it well?” 

He hears your musing voice, and he tears away his gaze from his phone screen to look at you with a beguiled expression. He can’t help but be giddy, as he watches you pad over to him in nothing but his t-shirt, coffee in hand as you take your seat in his lap like it’s reserved just for you. And it feels so natural to have you in his arms like this. You fit so perfectly against him and he’s having to dent his skin with half crescents in an effort to ensure he’s not dreaming.

But reality strikes at you again when you realize that even though you are on vacation, you’re still getting email notifications of transcript requests nearing their deadlines. Your mood shifts and he peeks over at your phone screen, taking your hand in his as he brushes the hair from your face. 

“Is there anything that I can do to make you feel better?”

And that single question is enough to ignite the balmy feeling between your thighs. Your lips instantly find his as you straddle his lap on the love seat, and a small sound of surprise followed by pleasure emits from him, soon finding themselves latching to the side of his throat and he’s threading his fingers through your hair. 

You find yourself returning the favor, slipping your fingers under the waistband of his boxers as your tug at his hardened cock. Vulgarities skid past his mouth as he tries his damned best to fixate those pretty green eyes on you, but they right open when he sees you’ve settled between his thighs. Your plush lips against his aching, swollen tip. 

A groan leaves his lips as you do nothing but tease him with the tip of your tongue before taking him wholly into your mouth, but he doesn’t want to cum yet. He wants to have experienced you fully. So he’s lifting you off the carpet and laying you on the cushion, spreading you wide and dick throbs at your glistening pussy before immersing himself in it. And God, his tongue is as heavenly as his fingers are. He’s not shy at all when it comes to lapping you up like it’s his last meal, shaking you out so he can get even more of you. 

The sounds of his slurping are loud and lewd, humming against your clit right before he inserts his fingers into you and you’re quick to ride out your climax, grabbing at the short dark locks of his hair as you grind against his lips. He doesn’t even move off of you, the sensation of you writhing beneath him as you try to pry him off arouses him, but he obliges when you begin to whine. 

He lets go with a pop, your arousal drips down his chin and you welcome him back with a deep kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue as he pushes you further down onto the couch. You don’t want to stop, you crave him far too much in this instance to halt his actions. Especially when you’re realizing that he’s naked now, and you’re left in only his shirt. But his fingers are dancing over your stomach, reflexively dipping in at his touch until he gets to the peaks of your breasts. 

The fabric lifts off your body and he takes you in. “You’re seriously so stunning, [name].”

You like that he says your name. Not just some generic pet name like baby, or babe. It means something to you, to him. That you’re not just an object for his sexual gratification and you liked that.

You instantly fluster under his gaze, pupils blown leaving only the remnants of his sage green eyes. “Thank you.” You finally muster up the words after what feeling like forever. He rips his gaze from you and the thought finally comes to him. “Um,” He eyes flicker toward the staircase and then at you. “Upstairs.”

“Right.” 

--

You chew on your lip and the anticipation builds between you as he takes your hand and leads you upstairs, giggling as you scoot on his cool bed sheets, and you feel the warmth of his hard body against yours. He leans over to his nightstand and it feels like a millennia before he fishes out a condom. You peek over to look at the box and the receipt is still attached to it, brand new which explains why he was fiddling with the cardboard for so long.

“Just for me?” You chime and he pokes his tongue in his cheek, trying to hold back his grin while he tears open the foil with his teeth and rolls the latex over his hardened length. His forearms are on either side of your head.

“You think I’m just out here layin’ pipe? Of course I just bought them.” He bashfully scratches his neck and you can’t help but laugh at his sheepish grin. You lift your head and cup his stubbly cheeks to bring him into a fiery kiss and he quickly returns it, feeling his cocking enfolding at your entrance. 

You gasp at the way his length brushes against your weepy folds. “Please.” You murmur between kisses and he dithers for a second, searching your expression for any hint of uncertainty. But you’re all there, determined and in desperate need for his touch. 

“Are you sure?” He whispers, and you frantically nod. He chuckles at your insistence and he aligns himself with your sopping core, gently prodding into you until he bottom’s out and you’re both already gasping. The saccharine feeling of being filled up is unmatched, especially when the guy that’s in you is the one you’ve been dreaming about for months. 

And you don’t want him to go slow. No, that doesn’t feel like an option right now. Not after how long you feel like you’ve waited for this moment. Overwrought with desire, your fingers dig into the supple flesh of his ass and he lets out a broken whimper in the form of your name. And he seems to get the hint because he’s quickly ramming into you, your hips connect in a frenetic manner, but it’s so so so good. 

His viridian eyes are reaming at the sight of your dulcet features quickly melting into a lewd expression and milky moans that spill out from your lips. He kisses you haphazardly wanting nothing more but to make you cum and trust that you’re nearly there. He’s hitting all the right places and his lower abdomen is rubbing your puffy clit in just the right way. 

One hand on your hip and the other makes its way to wrap around your throat and, oh God, that look in his eyes and you’re totally done for. His name is clawing its way out from your throat as you feel the maddening rolls of passion drowning your soul with rapture, exposing your neck as you swell with a sigh and falter with a shudder that cascades up and down your body. Kiss after blissful kiss and Hesh feels every ripple in your body. It’s the catalyst of his peak, breaking under the pressure of your pulsating walls and convulsing body. 

It’s the warmth of your neck as his teeth latch onto the sensitive skin, your strangled cries, your labored breaths that make it feel like his orgasm was flaring red, white and blue. You watch in awe as all the dewy green in his eyes fall golden like little stars in the sunlight peeking through his blinds. You’re both panting, melting into each other, and laughter spills from your lips as you hold one another closely. And the adoration seeps out of his bones when he notices that he’s springing back to life and you’re quick to respond to his passion.

And you don’t even know how many hours it’s been. Between refueling breaks and trips to the bathroom, you literally can’t keep your hands off each other. You begin to lose count of all the positions he’s putting you in, but you know one thing for sure--it’s gonna hurt like a bitch in the morning.

Hesh can hardly shake you awake. You’re all wrapped up in his arms, sharing the same covers and he breathes you in as you nuzzle into his neck not wanting to move from your cozy position. He stares at the ceiling, counting the stars he’s placed in the form of all the constellations he knows. Holding you like this and feeling the warmth constantly spread through his chest when he takes a little peek at you. It’s driving him nuts. 

If he were being honest with you right now, he’d say that he’s done searching. That he’s found the one. But of course, he knows that you’re accustomed to the 1-2, hit-and-run, cum-and-go lowly standard of men who have fed you the same bullshit, so he reserves on that. 

Your eyes flutter open and a sleepy smile stretches across your cute features, and he brushes away the strays to gather as much of your visage that he can. 

“Sleep well?”

“I slept amazing.” You stretch your limbs like a cat down to the spread of your toes, but you feel the dull ache in your muscles and groan. “You must’ve put me in every position imaginable.”

A repentant smile plays on his lips as the warmth sidles into his cheeks. “You never complained.”

“Shut up.” You mimp, and he chuckles at the way you purse your lips and puff your cheeks at him. 

Hesh's heart tightens as he watches how your face contorts into one of sadness, the reality of your limited time together gnaws at the both of you. You wish that you could both freeze this moment—just you, him, and the quiet morning light filtering through the linen curtains. But time, as always, marches on, and soon enough, the outside world will come knocking and you’ll have to go back to your boring desk job and he’ll have to go back on his confidential ops.

"You know," he begins, his voice soft, "we've still got a few more days. How about we make the most of them?"

Your eyes meet his, and there's a flicker of understanding. You both know that this time together is precious, and neither of you wants to waste a single second. The romance between you two is budding rapidly and you want nothing more than to cling to him, getting lost in the small blip of time that you will forever cherish.

"I'm all in," you reply, your voice firm despite the lingering exhaustion from last night’s activities. "What do you have in mind?"

A mischievous grin spreads across his face as he pulls you closer, his hand resting on the small of your back. "How about a lazy day? We could just stay in my bed,” he caresses the exposed part of your tummy, leaving a wake of gooseberries, “order some take out,” he nips at your earlobe and you sigh at his touch. “and see where the day takes us."

You laugh softly, the sound like music to his ears and you clasp your arms around his neck. It’s odd. You both feel like at any given moment either one of you will vanish into thin air and you’ll wake up alone in your loft on the other side of the country. "I think that sounds perfect."

For a moment, you both fall silent, simply enjoying the comfort of being close. But the weight of the week ticking away lingers in the air, a reminder that this isn't your everyday life. It's a bubble, fragile and fleeting.

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Whatever happens after this week... we'll figure it out, okay?" His heart tugs at the brimming tears in your eyes. He knows you’re trying to withhold all your pent up feelings and he wants nothing more than to help you squash the negativity that holds more space in your brain than it should.

You nod, your hand finding his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Yeah, we will." And you mean that.

With that, the two of you settle back into the warmth of the covers, letting the world outside wait a little longer. For now, it's just the two of you, and that's more than enough. 

And just as you two had expected, the week flies by like it’s nothing. Days, afternoons and evenings of lovemaking, dancing on the beach, and him expertly instructing you on how to make the perfect sourdough loaf. How you whisper to each other about your deepest, darkest secrets. And he finds himself opening up to you about how he’s always felt like his neglectful upbringing made him slightful resentful and hardened. Oh how the tears flow at the admission that follows. 

You learn that Hesh thinks he’s everything that his father is not, how his brother, Logan is the Golden Pony boy but he doesn’t blame him for it. How sometimes he wants to push away his little brother more than anything, but he’s all he got left. Your heart aches at the thought of him keeping all of these emotions pent up, so you listen to him and hold him tight; dewy eyed, tear stained and puffy. 

These were the types of memories you wanted to create with your dream partner. It’s whimsical, light yet heavy, but not uncomfortable. It’s like eating the most luscious dessert, but its weight holds pleasantly in your stomach. 

But it leads you back to where you had initially met. The airport.

The hustle and bustle is muted as the both of you sit next to each other, snugged up as he traces patterns onto your jeans in an attempt to calm you. He doesn’t want you to leave. In his mind he’s already thinking of all the time you’re going to spend in the future--and you? 

You’re already withdrawing. You’re thinking that there’s no way in hell that this will thrive. Living in two different parts of the country was not ideal for a budding relationship. For an online friendship, sure, but this easily became more than that.

“Hey,” He nudges you, and your eyes flicker up to meet him. He can sense how your energy has changed, and how you’re detaching from him and he hates it. “Stop that.” He makes you face him and your eyes are distant.

“Stop what?”

His stomach lurches. The doubt creeps back into your mind, and you feel yourself succumbing to the emptiness that you’ll endure when you get back. You’re trying to protect yourself from the inevitable heartbreak and pain of saying goodbye and he sees right through it. His eyes soften, but he’s determined to shake you out of your gloomy state.

“Stop thinking this won’t work,” he says firmly, continuing to draw the patterns into the fabric of your jeans. “I can see it written all over your face, and trust me, I get it. But we’ve got something here--something real, tangible.” His voice falters just slightly as he racks his brain to find the right words. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this…about us.”

The life in your eyes returns a bit more and he knows he has you hooked onto his words that causes your heart to skip a beat.

“This week…it’s been everything I’ve imagined and more.” He cringes slightly at the corniness of his words, and you can’t help but chuckle a little. He’s being so sincere, and you feel yourself choking up. “And I know we’ve just met, but I feel so comfortable with you.” He rolls his eyes a bit at his own words. “Like I’ve known you forever.” And you giggle again, nodding along with him.

He is right, of course. It really does feel like coming home, and you could get used to that feeling.

“I don’t want this to end, I don’t want to go back to talking behind a screen and twiddling our thumbs, wondering when our communication is going to dwindle.” Hesh says, facing you now. “Look, I know this might sound forward,” Your chest tightens at the earnesty in his expression and his words. “But I want to make this work. Like, really work. Like I want you to be here, with me.” He runs his fingers through his short cropped hair and he feels the blood rushing to his cheeks. “I want us to figure out a way to move you out here--whenever I’m stationed, wherever we need to be.”

You feel a surge of mixed emotions--fear, hope, relief? It’s enmeshing and turning in your stomach. It’s what you want to hear, but you’re terrified. 

“David, I…I don’t know…” You croak out, feeling the tears cascade down your cheeks, but he shakes his head and wipes them away. 

“You don’t have to decide right now, [name].” he reassures you, and you feel your throat tighten at how donnish he’s being. “I just want you to know I’m in this for the long haul. I’ve found the one,” He softly smiles. “And it’s you.”

And it’s like a freakin’ dam burst or something with the way you’re crying, but it’s tears of real relief. The idea of staying with him to build a life together, it’s not something you went as far as even imagining. Not until now.

“No bullshit, [name]. I’m not up for losing you.”

“I don’t want to lose you either,” you profess, but your voice trembles with the heavy weight of your feelings. “But the thought of leaving everything behind…it’s a lot to take in, y’know?”

He nods. “I know it is,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “And I’m not asking you to do anything rash. I just want you to think about it. To know that I’m ready to make this work.” He squeezes your hand. “Just say the word.”

You let out a shaky exhale, and nod. “Okay.” You laugh a bit as he dabs away at your tears again. “I’ll think about it.”

His face lights up with a brilliant smile as he kisses your wrist and then pulls you into a tight hug. The sound of the announcer calling your flight ripples through your little moment and reality sets in again. This time with hope. Hope that something real will flourish from this.

As you pull away and walk to the terminal together hand in hand, you pause to stand in front of him. He easily towers over you and you remember how he looked when he picked you up when you touched down. He cups your face and softly kisses your lips, letting go too soon to place a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“Text me when you land.” He caresses your cheek and you nod with a small smile on your face. Your heart aches when he pulls away, his pinky lingers for a second before he lets go, but it’s filled with something new.

His eyes linger on you as you become smaller, boarding the plane and you turn around once more to find that he’s still watching you. His expression is a mix of longing and resoluteness. You wave, and he returns it with eyes full of silent promise.

As you finally step into the plane, you can’t help but wonder if this is really just the beginning of your new life.

masterlist

mini taglist: @milkteaarttime @keegansshark

[noiselessbuck]

asking about the good version of the sequel trilogy that lives in your brain

HI YES

ok so my favorite sw movie is the force awakens because it caused me to have such a great idea for the rest of the series which never happened but shhhh it did

the main idea is that you can, by letting finnpoe exist, parallel a bunch of stuff to the original series but also more fun than that so we have:

- first off more time on reys home planet (i read the whole lil companion book about her chilling there) i'm not immune to Nausacaä coded characters

- poe has his tv canon backstory as a pilot instead of changing it to be racist

rey and finn things:

- finn and rey are like hinted at as oo are they gonna be together

- finn does actually get to say and fully use his force sensitive powers

- he and rey have like force-spidie sense on each other

- around the time when they are saving the hurt and angry sandworm thing is where finn's force sensitivity powers and shown and shows a lot of their force connection

- at a time after saving said sandworm thing finn and rey like either are egged on by someone or do think the other has a crush (possibly a weird singular kiss) and then! they both go um no thanks not romantic. but also- you're my force soulmate and my best friend. and then they're in a force-QPR thereafter

- after this poe is all like very quickly relieved and happy for them

rose things:

- listen listen rose and finn are thee ultimate "attempt at being straight before we both realize we are not" thing

- still have the most awkward kiss ever

- rose gets a cool gf (i dont know side characters names)

- both rose and finn are concerned about telling the other it's not gonna work out and then are relieved

- then they're chilling friends and she gets to be in the third movie doing cool stuff

finnpoe things:

- finn poe co-captains jacket scene is more romantic

- after a big scary fight they kiss

- i really want there to be parallels specifically to "a kiss for good luck" to hint reyfinn and then also smth similar to leia and han's endor scene with finnpoe of like what i thought you liked her? no dude im her soulmate, you're who im in love with

aro rey vs kylo stuff:

- more rey roasting kylo for having his shirt off and shit

- kylo being all like there's something special between us please join my facism 🥺 and rey going nope i have a force soulmate you're a force pain in the ass

- zero reylo kissing

- they can team up for the last part with the force sharing lightsabers thing but it would only show that rey has turned him (ps the final fight sucks ass and would be different but not solid ideas what it would be)

other things:

- rey would only ever be related to random trader civilians none of this granddaughter bullshit because power via lineages is the patriarchy fuck that we need Just some guy who is a girl representation

- the scene where rey fights evil!rey would one, semi mirror luke fighting spectral darth vader and two

- SHE WOULD MAKE THE FOLDING DOUBLE SABER

- like im sorry but you can reject the evil version of yourself and still take notes on saber construction

- leia would only almost die she's actually gonna die and also only have the death scene be whatever CGI stuff

- kylo would still kill han bc that shit was funny

- the cool girl who led a stormtrooper rebellion and rides space horses will NOT be related to lando because what the fuck. rey being lukes granddaughter is one thing but- 2/3 of the black character in this fucking Galaxy are related? fuck no. she would still be cool and get more scenes and maybe she can be rose's girlfriend

- leia has the force uses lightsabers more and her lightsaber should be pink specifically because when carrie fisher was asked what color it would be that's what she said

- kylo needs to be more stupid and more just anything that would stop people from thinking he's cool hot and edgy. ofc this is nigh impossible but just more things similar to the "kylo ren the middle schooler" twitter account

- more animals!! and more animal interactions like the ice foxes

- name the porgs something else🤦

- make all the bad guy ships more interesting looking instead of just- the same thing but larger, unLess that element is played up for comedic effect more

- the kid at the casino stables who gets a shot showing they can use the force is the black kid

that's everything i can think of right now yee ill rb with more if i think of it

[thirstyforred]

Siegfried: Ok Rod, what's your ideal weather day?

Roderick: I'm just 75°F and sunny kind of gal.

Ulrich: ...

Ulrich: I will say you're 75, but your disposition is not sunny.

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Two. Jackbox Shenanigans

warnings: swearing word count: 2.6k (not including pictures) behind the screen (irl dream x reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

Y/n flinched awake, startled by the sounds traveling from the kitchen. Once again, the frosty air pricked her skin, trying to convince her to not move, to stay in bed under the warm blankets. Despite the feeling pulling her into her bed, she rubbed her eyes and sat up, grabbing her phone from her nightstand. Texts from Karl flooded her screen and she replied as she took her comforter off her mattress and wrapped it around herself. She pattered to the source of the noise to find her roommate was making food.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Naomi asked, eyes wide with concern as she looked at Y/n. "I dropped a pan."

Y/n, who was observing the world through one squinted eye, shook her head and she sat at the counter in the kitchen. "No, I should be awake anyway."

"You're usually awake much earlier. Late night?"

Y/n nodded. "George streamed and we all talked for a little after."

"Oh, yeah, I watched his stream this morning..." she started, eyes focused on the food in front of her but Y/n still caught the mischievous glint in her roommate's eyes.

"Of course you did," Y/n laughed through a yawn. "That's your lover."

Naomi rolled her eyes. "Maybe if you gave me his number he would be."

"He doesn't give it to many people. I just barely got it and I've been friends with him for a year. I'm pretty sure Karl doesn't even have it."

Naomi groaned, though Y/n knew it was a joke... for the most part. She got another text from Karl, and consulted Naomi for a second opinion.

"Should I post this?" Y/n asked, lazily holding up her phone with a picture on the screen. Naomi squinted as she looked back over her shoulder. "Karl keeps yelling at me too."

"Yeah! That's a cute outfit. Make sure to credit Karl or he'll yell at you for that as well."

"No chance I'm doing that."

.

Incoming FaceTime... karol <3

Y/n hit accept and held the phone up to make a face at Karl. He mimicked the position. "Hello, sir."

"Hello, ma'am."

"What are you doing?" she asked him, walking to the bathroom to brush her teeth, her comforter dragging on the floor behind her as it continued to protect her from the cold.

Karl got distracted and started messing with something out of the camera view. "Um, trying to figure out what to do for my stream tonight. What about you?"

"I'm waiting for you to give me a fit check!" Y/n yelled. Karl quickly looked at the camera and smiled. He set his phone down on his desk and ran backward so his whole body was in frame. He posed awkwardly a few different ways before running back and resuming his position.

"Yes!" Y/n hyped with a mouthful of toothpaste. "Let's go, Karl! Karl with the old man sweater!!"

He giggled. "You're the one that told me to buy it."

"Because it's sick. Doesn't mean it didn't belong to an old man before you."

Karl pouted before his face lit up. "Guess what. I met a girl."

"Oh?" Y/n cooed. "Where? Do you have pictures? Is she cute?"

"She's Jimmy's new cameraman. Camerawoman. I don't have pictures, and yes. She's very cute." His cheeks turned red and Y/n smiled, flipping off the bathroom light and heading to her closet. She threw her comforter back on the bed and tried to pick out an outfit.

"Come on, bud, elaborate. What's her name? Have you asked her out yet?"

"You don’t get to know her name, I don’t want to jinx anything. Plus, you’ll just look ‘Mr Beast crew’ and find out anyway. Also, no, I haven’t. I'm pretty sure she thinks I hate her because I have not said a single word to her. I get so nervous when she's around I freeze up and just like... act weird. And then as soon as she's gone, Chris freaking roasts me so bad."

"Aw, I can teach you how to flirt if you want!"

"Yeah, okay," he scoffed, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"What's with the attitude? I'm great at flirting."

"No, you're not. I watched Gogy's stream last night."

"What does that have anything to do with anything?"

"I heard the way you spoke to Dream."

"What?!"

"You have zero game, Y/n. Absolutely none. Zilch, if you will."

"Yeah, because I wasn't flirting with him?"

"Not successfully, at least."

"Karl, what?" Y/n laughed but she was so confused. "No part of me was trying to flirt with anyone in that stream."

"Oh, come on," Karl groaned. "Don't do this again. Don't pretend to not like a guy and then cry to me when you're wack ass attempts don't win him over."

"Karl," Y/n started, looking directly at him. "I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about. I wasn't flirting with him. I do not like him."

"I'm just saying, you talk about him a lot. Like, you always panic when he interacts with your posts because you're scared he's going to DM you right after. And you gush about him a lot."

"I do not gush. I admire the hard work he puts into his videos but I talk the same about him as I do with George and Sapnap. The only difference is I'm friends with them and not Mr. Minecraft. He's intimidating, that doesn't mean I have a crush on him."

Karl stared for a moment, trying to read Y/n's expression to detect any lies. "You'd tell me if you did, right?"

"Karl, I tell you everything. I'd tell you if I murdered your family." They both laughed. "It's impossible to hide anything from you, you're my best friend."

"Okay, sweet, but please don't murder my family, just to be clear."

"I won't. I love your mom too much."

"Well, how was meeting Dream, then? Despite apparently not being in love with him?"

"It was cool. Terrifying because it felt very forced but the four of us hung out on the call after George ended his stream and he was much more relaxed."

"That's true. Aren't we all?"

"Not you! You're the exact same person on and off camera. Just a little ball of giggles."

Karl giggled which made them both laugh more. Suddenly, as if he completely forgot until that moment, Karl sat up quickly and yelled, "What am I going to do for the stream?"

Y/n shrugged. "See if anyone wants to play Jackbox. Chat always loves those and it's relatively easy to throw together last minute. You just need to find people that are free to play."

"Genius. Who should we invite?"

"We?"

"Yeah. It was your idea, you have to play."

"But, I've never played! And I barely know all your friends so I wouldn't get half the inside jokes. I'd be a boring addition."

"Please? They're your friends too! You just talked to Sapnap and George for four hours yesterday and George was the only one playing anything. That's friendship if I've ever seen it."

"But... others.... like literally everyone besides Sap and George...."

"Things like this are how you get to know them better. Besidessss, you're never boring."

"Fine, I'll play."

"YES!" he shouted. "Okay, who should we invite?"

**********

**********

Y/n huffed and scooted her chair closer to her desk. She pulled up Discord and hovered over the voice chat everyone was in. An overwhelming number of voices chaotically spoke over each other as soon as she joined.

"Oh no," she mumbled.

"AYYEE!!" a voice yelled, the green bubble lighting around Quackity's name confirming her suspicions.

"Aye," she said back less enthusiastic. "Hi everyone."

"She's here!" George cheered.

Y/n could hear Sapnap huff. "Finally. Geesh."

"This isn't even your stream, calm down." Y/n's eyes scanned the names on the left to read who else was involved in tonight's games. She had suggested a few people to Karl but wasn't sure about the final list. Besides the boys who had already greeted her were BadBoyHalo and Dream.

"Hello, Bugsy! It's nice to meet you! I'm BadBoyHalo."

Y/n smiled widely at his voice. "Hi, BadBoyHalo! Nice to meet you too."

Her eyes slowly traveled to the last name on the list, which had yet to greet her. She wasn't bitter, but she was curious why he hadn't said anything yet. The boys hyped up him talking about her so much but she had yet to feel that energy from him. She picked at the bottom of her hoodie, eyes darting between the names as they lit up when someone spoke.

"Is Dream still AFK?" Sapnap asked.

"I think so," Bad replied.

Maybe that's the only reason he hadn't said anything. Y/n felt stupid for thinking it had anything to do with her.

"He's probably coding something or something like that," George teased.

"Haha nerdy ass man," Quackity cackled.

"Language."

"Don't you also code shit, George?" Sapnap called out. "You're probably helping him test something after this, huh? As Quackity said, nerdy ass man."

"You know what, Sapnap? I'm not sure I like your attitude all that much."

Y/n smiled. Despite feeling nervous, she was already having fun just listening to everyone talk. The real nerves would kick in when they were live in front of tens of thousands of people and she would have to be funny.

A message popped up in the general chat, notifying everyone that Karl was joining the voice call soon so they shouldn't say anything bad.

"Everyone say something weird," Quackity directed.

Discord dinged and Karl's name joined the list on the side. "AAAHHHH-!" he started yelling over everyone to let them know he was here in case they were saying anything bad. With his luck, they were going to say stuff anyway to mess with him.

"So, yeah, that's how I lost my virginity," Quackity said as if he just finished a story.

"To a prostitute?" Sapnap added quickly. "Wow, I never thought you... oh Karl!"

"Language!" Bad gasped.

"What the..." Karl laughed loudly. "What did I just join?"

"Oh, sorry, sorry, sorry," Quackity apologized, which was hard to make out since he was laughing so hard, surprised at what Sapnap added to his joke.

"Bad, you can't say language about a prostitute," Sapnap defended. "That's really rude of you. Maybe it's a little unconventional but they're just tryna make some money the best way they know how."

George laughed with Quackity as Bad sputtered. "I-I said language about what Quackity said!"

"What, virginity?" Karl asked innocently and Bad yelled again.

"Bad hates people who have had sex!" Y/n called, causing Quackity to laugh loudly.

"Bad! How could you?! That's so messed up!"

"Wait, guys, is everyone here?" Karl asked.

"Dream isn't. We don't know where he went."

Karl groaned and started typing something, presumably yelling at Dream to join.

"Let's goooo! We're popping off!" Quackity started saying, stalling. "We're popping off!" George joined him, becoming absolute fools to keep the chat entertained.

"Okay, he's here!" Karl said. "Everyone's here!"

"I'm here, I'm here, sorry. I was... yeah, sorry," Dream stuttered out.

"Welcome back, Dream!" Bad chirped.

"Hello!" he replied. Unexpectedly, his next greeting was directed at Y/n. "Hi, Bug."

Y/n instantly got shy for no discernable reason. She blamed it on his voice and its ability to manipulate emotions any way he wanted. That and she was getting attention from someone first. "Hi," she squeaked back, hoping the contrast of her icy hands would cool her face enough to focus on the game.

"Bugsy, you are adorable," Bad stated simply.

"Sapnap! What did you just send me?" George asked loudly, and just like that, the attention was off of her and she could breathe again.

"What?" Sapnap feigned innocence.

This was going to be a long game.

"Let's play!" Karl decided. "Should we warm up with some Quippy?"

Y/n focused intensely on her answers, silently hoping the others would find her funny.

"Oh my gosh," she mumbled as everyone else finished writing. "Y'all, I'm about to get Quiplashed so hard. Don't make fun of me."

"I seriously doubt it," Dream said. "You can't possibly be worse than George at this game."

"Shut up, we always-  it's like 3 am my time. I can't, like, think of things 'cause my brain isn't functioning."

"Yeah, that's why," Sapnap teased.

"Surreee," Dream said.

The first round wasn't too bad. Y/n was in 5th place but she got quite a few laughs so she didn't care too much about where she stood. She got a notification from Dream on Twitter as everyone laughed at one of Quackity's answers.

Y/n looked back at her screen and saw the new prompt and answers. She read them quickly as everyone was laughing and with a few seconds left to choose, voted for the one on the left. It was funnier anyway.

She loosened up substantially after another round, and she knew it was mostly because Dream had reached out to her. Something about him comforted her and made her feel safe, which warmed her heart.

"Bugsy! What the hell, that's so messed up. You're so messed up," Quackity yelled, laughing at the answer on the screen. They were playing Survive the Internet and her comment got taken way out of context, just as the game intended.

"Oh my gosh!" Karl cackled loudly. "Bugsy, I didn't know you felt that way. Oh my gosh? They're just kids?? Bugsy out the gang?"

Y/n hid her face in her hands and laughed. "Noooo!! Wait I never knew- I didn't know I was ever in the gang?"

"She really said, 'infant children? slaughter them all'," Sapnap joked.

"You know, I think you'd get along really well with Technoblade," Dream added. "Though his specialty is orphans, as it appears."

"No, no, no, whoever wrote that heading is SO messed up!" Y/n defended, rereading the heading that made her comment look bad. She knew it was a game but all the attention on her was making her embarrassed. "Who would think to put that?"

"Everyone cancel Busgy!" Karl yelled.

"Karl, no! You're supposed to be my best friend!"

"I don't know how I feel about my best friend killing children..."

"Karl!!"

"Nooo," Bad protested softly. "I like Bugsy. Don't cancel her."

"Everyone vote!"

The article with Y/n's name turned out to be Dream's. "Dream! What the hell is wrong with you?" she yelled, causing him to wheeze loudly.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I wanted point."

The whole night ended up being like that. Y/n had a lot of fun and by the end, she felt a lot more comfortable with all of them. Quackity, Karl, and Sapnap were loud and very high energy while George and Bad were quieter. Dream was half and half, sometimes matching Quackity's volume and sometimes going a while without saying a word. Overall, Y/n had a lot of fun and hoped to let back in the gang in the future.

**********

PREVIOUS • NEXT

**********

A/N: WOOO PART TWOOO!! Hope you guys enjoyed this part! Also thank you so much for all the love on the first part!! I did not expect it to get as much attention as it did!!!!!

we clearly haven’t got to dream and yn being close yet bc they literally met the day before this but i added a small little dream/yn moment :] pls let me know how you liked this part!!!!!!!!!!!! 

taglist: OPEN (at the time) @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @tinaswagbd @charsdummb @smileyyuta @1ghoste1 @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb @letsloveimagines @erwinss @just-a-stan

[wandaswifeyforlifey]

okay so since florence is in NY rn with zach i had an idea

florence runs into the reader and it’s all kinda awkward/cute cause their relationship was never official or really got to anyone but they both knew that they were in love each other.

and they probably make plans to go out to dinner or for some coffee or just a walk and zach gets jealous about it. (ofc not making him a bad person, ik he’s a good guy, it would be just for the sake of the story)

p.s: sorry if this idea sucks 🥲

A/n: This idea is amazing! But I think my writing get pretty shit in this one so I'm really sorry 😬 but (maybe) enjoy!

Ship: Florence Pugh x Reader

Warnings: Noneeee

Navigation // Taglist // Masterlist

You and Florence had always had this chemistry and charisma between the two of you. You had met on the set of a movie you were filming together and since then you’d been inseparable. You could bounce off of each other in interviews and your acting was perfect when in a scene together. It was as if you made each other a better person. It didn’t take long for you to move into a house together in London and those were some of the best years of your life. That chemistry soon turned to a romance between the two of you. Nothing was official or released to the press but rumours of a relationship began to spread like a wildfire through the public. There were fan accounts dedicated to you both, fanfiction about you, people editing secret glances and smirks between you.

You weren’t sure how but soon after, Florence moved out and to America. The texts became less frequent, calling went from once every other day to maybe every month until you lost all contact with one another. It didn’t particularly hurt you because you knew that it sometimes went like that but you wish it hadn’t gone like that between the two of you. It took you a while to process this too, once you realised it was happening of course, but afterwards you never really thought about it too much.

Until, as fate would have it, you were forced to think about it again when you saw that sweet, joyful face on the street in New York. Before you knew it, you had crossed the road and walked up to her, waving your hand high.

“Florence! How’ve you been?” you shouted. Her face seemed to light up when she saw you. Heat rose in her cheeks as you drew attention to yourselves.

“Hey, Y/n. Jeez, it’s been a while hasn’t it?” she smiled.

“It really has. I haven’t seen you since, well, since you moved out I guess…” you feared that the awkward silence would come along, so you quickly changed the subject, “So! How’ve you been doing?”

“I’ve been good, I’ve been good. Well, I can afford an apartment in New York so there’s a start!” she laughed before continuing, “I’ve got myself a boyfriend too, we live there together and my career seems to be going pretty well, to be honest. I’m feeling good. Really good.”

You felt guilty for feeling jealous but you still did anyway. You weren’t jealous of her success, no. You were jealous of her boyfriend. It pained you to see her so happy without you. And you wanted to be happy for her, you really did! But you couldn’t.

“It’s been so good seeing you again after so long but I need to dash off. I promised I’d be home before 6 for dinner but maybe you could join us? Of course, if you have plans then that’s fine I just-” Florence said before you interrupted.

“I’d love to!” you responded without hesitation.

On the way to the apartment, you decided to take the prettiest route you knew. You showed her the hidden gems of New York until you arrived at the building. It was much more elegant than you had expected, with gold coating the edges of the gate and the clean white marble accents on the main building. It was perfect.

Flo walked you up to her apartment and as you came in you smelt one of the warmest, tastiest smells you could remember. It brought you back to Sunday’s when you and Florence were living together and she would have her usual roast. The highlight of your week was the roast potatoes with carrots, peas, Yorkshire puddings and the crisp, brown chicken for the two of you.

But the sound of a male voice snapped you back to reality. Her boyfriend, of course. He must have been following the recipe she always did but you knew it wouldn’t taste the same. Luckily, you seemed to arrive just as he was setting the table.

“Hey, sweetie! And hey…?” he paused, waiting for you to tell him your name.

“Y/n. My name’s Y/n,” you finished his sentence.

“You know Y/n, I’ve talked about her tons,” Florence added. Heat rose in your cheeks as you realised she never forgot about you.

“Well, you’ve come at the perfect time. I was just finishing up so if you both take a seat I’ll bring through everything and we can start eating,” you nodded in agreement and sat down.

“So, what’ve you been up to, Y/n?” she asked while laying her napkin on her lap.

“Ooh, well, I’ve been in a few plays in The West End and recently started working on a movie which brought me over here. It’s been quite hectic but in a good way, I guess. I’ve seen that you’ve been busy! I loved Little Women and Midsommar but I haven’t watched Black Widow yet, I meant to back at home.” you said.

“Thank you so much, it really means a lot to me that you enjoyed them. Really,” she replied with complete sincerity. You looked in each other’s eyes and you admired the hazel colour, it always had a way of calming you down and giving you this feeling of euphoria.

Taglist for all fics: @alotofpockets @catasha @kiwiana145

@marie45019

[ihearthes]

Quarantine Christmas Part  2

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x y/n Rating: Smut Word Count: 2768 (Part 1) Fiction Chalenge via @caitlin‘s fiction party via @sweetcreatureinthedark

Part 1

December 24, 2020

“Smith!” he bellows way too early and cheerfully as he pounds on my bedroom door. “Happy Christmas Eve! Come on! Let’s go for a jog.”

“Arrrrggggghhhhh,” I growl. “No.”

“If you hike the Hastain Trail with me, I’ll spring for coffee afterwards.”

“Go away, Styles.” Drawing the pillow over my head, I try to block out the sound of his voice. 

“Fresh air will be good for you.”

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” 

“Not on your life. I hate hiking alone.”

“Fine!” Throwing the covers off, I don my newly cleaned leggings, sports bra, and a t-shirt before opening the door and marching past him in my tennis shoes. “Bully,” I accuse. 

“You’re mad that I’m forcing you to take care of yourself?” Although he sounds offended, that smirk is back. 

“Whatevs, Styles. Let’s go.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

He sets off at a brisk pace, and I trail behind him slightly. After all, I’m still waking up. 

“Keep up, Smith!”

Just to be ornery, I slow my stride, taking my time examining the plants next to the path. When I next glance up, Harry is a solid quarter mile ahead of me, and I contemplate turning back, finding a picnic table and taking a nap on it until he’s done. 

But no. That’s not to be, as he turns and jogs back to me, keeping his legs pumping as he moves backwards. 

“You’re going to trip on something,” I caution. 

He grins. “You care about me!”

My eyes roll so far back into my head that I swear I can see my own brain. “No. But I care about Glenne, and she would be mighty upset if I had a part in damaging you.”

“Mhm.” The smirk is back, and as hard as I try to keep a sour look on my face, it’s challenging. “Where was Christmas supposed to be?” His question is casual, but it causes me to flinch.

“Indiana,” I snap off the word like one would a twig on a dying tree. Immediately, I feel guilty. “Sorry.” My mumble is quiet, but loud enough for him to hear and nod in silent acceptance. “You don’t deserve rudeness. What about you? London?”

“Holmes Chapel. With my mum, my sister, and her boyfriend.”

“Ah. Is it cold there this year?”

“Fairly mild. And Indiana?”

“Cold, cold, cold. Maybe even snow still on the ground.”

“Yeah. Christmas in Los Angeles is quite different.” Harry gestures around the trail, and I smile. 

“Definitely.”

“What are your favorite traditions?” 

By the time we loop back around to the start of the trail, we’ve exhausted the topic, and I realize my mood has improved tremendously. 

“Thank you, Harry.” The words are soft, and I try to insert as much authenticity as I can into them. 

I have the pleasure of watching his eyes soften as he observes me over the top of the car. “Coffee next! And a trip to the grocery!”

“Grocery? You’re cooking?”

“WE are baking and then cooking.”

“Really?”

“Yep. We’re going to create a mashup of our traditions.”

“No fucking way!” I exclaim, excited at the prospect. Sitting up, I search for a piece of paper and a pen. “I didn’t bring my purse, Styles. Give me your phone.”

“My phone?” Confused, he gazes at me while at a stoplight. 

“I need to write down the ingredients we need to buy. Let’s see. We can’t make some of the cookies we each like because I don’t know if Glenne has cookie cutters in the right shapes. So how about some ginger biscuits?” 

When he nods, I gesture for his phone. “Come on, Styles. I need to look up recipes and make sure we get the right ingredients.”

Reluctantly, he unlocks his phone, handing it to me. “No snooping,” he warns, shaking his finger in my direction. 

“Puuuuuuullllllleeeeeasssse. As if.” Using his browser, I search for a recipe for the ginger biscuits for him as well as one for thumbprint jam cookies, copying the ingredients into his Notes app. 

“Now, for dinner,” he begins, and my fingers pause as I wait for his next words. “Mum used to do a roast, but I don’t eat meat anymore. Just fish. And your family always does turkey. How do we compromise on a protein?”

“Scallops? Salmon? Both delicious and something I would consider fancy enough for a holiday meal.”

“Excellent!” Harry declares. “And can we agree on brussel sprouts and yams?”

My whole being is excited at the prospect of this meal with Harry. Suddenly there’s a silver lining to spending my favorite holiday away from my family. 

As he turns off the engine, I rest my hand on his wrist until he twists to look at me. “Thank you, Harry.”

“You already said that.” He rolls his eyes, but the crinkles send a different message. 

Less than 30 minutes later, we’re back in the car with the trunk full of groceries, including prosecco. After stopping for the promised coffee, we return to Glenne and Jeffrey’s house, unloading the food. 

“Mind if I take a shower before we start?” I ask, looking down at my clothing. “I feel dusty still from the trail.”

“Let’s both shower --” He stalls at my shocked expression “-- in separate bathrooms, Smith. Then let’s see who can put together the worst Christmas outfit from whatever we can find in the guest bedroom where we’re each sleeping.”

A grin crosses my face. “Oh, you’re going down, Styles!” Rushing out of the room, I’m confident that my ears are playing tricks on me because I think he responds with “I would love to go down on you.” He must have said something completely different, and I shake my head to clear the thought. 

When I emerge later, I’m wearing my grey sweatpants which I’ve pinned garland to along with one of my green hoodies and a giant wreath draped around my neck like a necklace by a red ribbon. Arriving in the kitchen, I’m stopped in my tracks by the sight of Harry wearing a skirt of wrapping paper over his also-grey sweatpants, along with a variety of bows stuck to his Green Bay Packers hoodie. 

He shrugs, “Apparently they use that guest bedroom for storing wrapping paper.” 

I laugh as I pluck one of the bows off his hoodie and place it on my chest after removing the wreath. 

“You win,” I concede. “I’m surprised there’s so much Christmas stuff in their house.”

“Eh. The Azoff family celebrates everything.”

“Lucky us, then.”

Side by side, we create the dough first for the ginger biscuits and then for the thumbprint cookies. After he slides the first pans into the oven, Harry crosses his arms. “Scrabble while we wait for them to bake?”

“Oh, it’s on!” I agree, and we settle at the dining room table to play the game. 

“Fine. You win,” Harry pouts over an hour later as I play my final letter which manages to be on a triple word score tile. 

“Woo hoo!” Stuffing one of the ginger biscuits in my mouth, I chew thoughtfully. “These are pretty good. I might make them again next year.”

“Same for these,” Harry grins as he chews on one of the thumbprint cookies. Crossing his arms on the table in front of him, he leans toward me. “Now how about you tell me exactly why you turned down my account when Glenne offered it to you?”

Shock courses through my body, and I freeze, knowing my face is likely turning into a candy cane red. 

“She told you?”

“Of course she told me! I had specifically asked for you, so I was a bit heartbroken when she told me that you refused.”

His word choice makes me raise an eyebrow. “Heartbroken?”

“Devastated? Wrecked? Disappointed? Take your pick, Smith.”

Swallowing, I make eye contact with him. “I’ll tell you why I turned down our account if you’ll tell me why you call me Smith.”

His tongue darts out and wets his lips as his green eyes bore into me. “Because you remind me of a Granny Smith apple.” Confusion must sweep across my face, as he continues talking. “You’re tart at first, but you can be sweetened. I’ve witnessed it in the past as well as just the last two days.” His face colors, but he continues speaking anyway. “Plus I suspect you’re incredibly juicy, and I would love a sample.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Had Harry Styles just made a very obvious overture? Yes. Yes, he had. My eyes float over his face, searching for any indication that he’s lying, but the sincerity is striking. 

First I look at my entwined hands, and then I decide to show the same courage he has exhibited. “I turned down your account because I couldn’t possibly work for you when I’m this attracted to you. It’s bad form to want to --” I can’t decide on the appropriate word, so I settle for “-- jump your client.”

The smirk is back, and it’s followed by an uproarious laugh. “This is too rich! To think that we could have been having some sort of relationship all this time is mind-numbing.” Rising, he holds out his hand. “How about we consummate our mutual attraction?”

“In the middle of the afternoon on Christmas Eve?”

“You got a better idea of how to spend our time?” 

“Swimming?” I tease. 

“Smith?”

“Yeah?”

“Take my hand.”

His words and tone make it clear that he’s interested in moving forward with this. My own body’s response is in sync with his. Gently, I place my hand in his as I rise from the table. Twisting his body, he also shifts his hand, leading me in the direction of…where? A bedroom seems too rushed. Not that my hormones would agree. 

But no. We walk down the two steps into the living room where he turns on the Christmas tree lights before settling on the couch and tugging my arm so that I join him. “Oh, wait.” Rising, he approaches the sound system, and soon the strains of Christmas music fill the space. Returning to my side, he settles with his arm around me. 

“Smith…” His words are a whisper, and I rotate my head in his direction as he brushes his finger over my cheek. When our lips meet, I swear I can hear the angels sing. His mouth is soft and tender, and I twine my fingers through the hand draped over my shoulder as I open wide to allow him to enter. Our tongues tangle in heat and dampness that also seems to pool between my legs. He tastes of the lemon curd thumbprints we had jointly made, and I relish the flavor, wanting more. 

Shifting closer to him, I tilt my head to provide greater access, and his hand drifts to my sweatpants. Withdrawing from me, he examines our clothes. “Mind if I remove this garland?”

“Not at all,” I purr. “As long as I can get rid of these bows.” The wrapping paper skirt had already been ruined when we sat down for the Scrabble game. 

Rather than unpinning the garland, though, he hooks his thumbs into my waistband and draws the sweatpants over my hips. “Up, Smith.” I lift my bum as he removes my bottoms, leaving me in my panties. 

In return, I inch his hoodie up his chest and off, tossing it over my shoulder, heedless of the bows that seem to desire to stay attached to the musician. Can’t say I blame them. 

“Hmmmm,” he murmurs before capturing my lips again. 

When we come up for air, my hands have managed to roam his chest, tweaking his nipple and wrenching a moan from his mouth. For his part, his hand has drifted over the small piece of cloth separating my treasure from full access. His thumb rubs a pattern over the fabric, and soon I’m panting. 

“Fuck,” I mutter as we separate. 

“Yes please” is his cheeky reply. 

“Dork,” I indict.

“Mhm. Take off that hoodie. Please.” 

Willingly, I oblige. Before the material has hit the floor, he’s capturing my nipple in his mouth, and I throw my head back as fire stokes through my body from my tits to my core. “Shit,” I proclaim. 

His fingers return to the scrap of cloth covering my center. As his thumb teases my clit through the silk, a finger slips underneath and into me. Without thought, I cry out, my lower body rising from the bed to get closer to heaven. 

“Been a while?” His voice is rough, sounding like sandpaper as he dislodges from my breast. 

“Too long,” I pant, “but you’ve always had the power to bring me to the brink just with a look.”

“I see,” he smirks, and normally I would want to smack him, but this time, I find it endearing. 

“I want --” I gesture to his sweats, and he grins. 

“If I refuse?”

“Then my treasure box can close pretty quickly if I don’t have something in my hands.”

Harry laughs. “Fair enough.” Shucking his sweatpants over his hips, I find that he’d chosen not to wear underpants as his cock springs upwards into my waiting hand. 

“Shit. I need lubricant.” I complain. 

We gaze at each other, the lust clear. Jumping up from the sofa, we race together to Glenne and Jeffrey’s bathroom. I scour the lower cabinets while Harry throws open the linen closet. “Got it!” he announces, holding the bottle over his head. 

“Thank God!” My relief is real. Grabbing the bottle from him, I find I can’t move. Now what? Where do we go? We can’t very well do the deed in their bed. 

Grabbing my hand, Harry once more takes the lead, and we end up in his guest bedroom. I gesture at the bed, and he strips off the duvet before lying down on his back. Crawling onto the mattress, I settle between his thighs, tilting the bottle of lube and squeezing a fair amount into my hand. Relaxed, I hold my hand over his cock, allowing droplets to fall. His eyes plead with me, and I grin at him. 

“Impatient, Styles?”

“Desperate for you, Smith.”

With that pronouncement, I wrap both hands around his length, allowing my fingers to glide gently along his shaft. One hand falls underneath where I can tickle his balls playfully. When his hips start bucking, I withdraw from him completely -- albeit slowly with a final few long strokes. 

His eyes fly open, and he pats the bed next to him, so I lie there. 

“Smith…”

“Shhhh. Hush, Styles.”

Miraculously he doesn’t say anything, but he does reach out and shift aside the fabric over my vagina before he delves a finger inside. I know I’m wet. Hell, I can feel the dampness. 

His finger teases me, and I writhe under his attention. 

“Fuck, Styles. I’m gonna…”

“Do it!” he orders, and my lower body creates a bridge as my hips rise into the air while my thighs tremble in ecstasy. 

As I land back onto the bed and earth itself from my recent visit to heaven, Harry carefully removes my panties and throws them over his shoulder. 

“Condom?” He inquires.

“IUD. You clean?”

“Yep. Got tested not long ago. You?”

“Fuck me, Styles. We deserve this.”

“Indeed,” he grins just before he plunges into me, and I cry out at the feel of his length inside me, filling me and touching every part of me. 

“Shit.” My breaths come in short spurts as he pumps into me. I can’t seem to catch my breath as my second orgasm starts building. “Shift to the left, Styles.”

“You got it, Smith. Can you scratch at my back?” 

“You bet.” 

The communication is nice as we guide each other to what pleases us the most. As much as I want to take our time, it’s not nearly long enough before I feel my insides begin to clench in a familiar way. 

“Fuck, Styles. I’m coming!”

“Me too, Smith! Fuuuuuuuuuccccccckkkkkk!” He stretches the word into multiple syllables as I feel his seed squirting into my womb, stopped only by my birth control. His fingers reach between our bodies as he manipulates my clit until I see stars and arch my lower body to become closer to him. 

Collapsing on top of me, his breathing is as uneven as my own. 

“Merry Christmas, Smith,” he murmurs while we’re still joined. 

“Merry Christmas, Styles,” I reply, hugging his body tightly to mine. No telling if we have a future, but this holiday is going to be one for the books. 

A/N:  This short story is dedicated to those who aren’t able to join family this Christmas due to the Coronavirus.  Be safe.  Be healthy.  Make the best of the situation. Sending you BIG HUGS!

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

AIGHT Y’ALL I wasn’t tagged but I’m doing this anyways because f u c k  i t

It's the year 2021 and you're obsessed with The Karate Kid. How are you feeling?

Deadasss weird as fuck, my dude. Like...out of all the things I could’ve predicted happening in our lord’s year 2021, it definitely was NOT getting hyperfixated on a hammy gay ship with a punk and a nerd from a goddamn karate soap opera. And yet...here we are??? I will never understand hyperfixations, my guy. But I’ve met a lot of really cool people in this fandom, so I can’t really complain.

Did you grow up with TKK or are you new to the series?

I have never seen a single Karate Kid movie in my entire life. When I was a kid, it looked kinda dumb so I never got into it XD But then I saw my roommate watching Cobra Kai on Youtube Red one day (he has every streaming service known to man) and I was hooked. And...here I am!

We gotta do the basics. Favorite character:  

Literally EVERYONE except for Kreese, Yasmine, Kyler, and Tory, sorry stans

Okay but if we gotta pick, Johnny Lawrence is my Problematic Fave. Also I love my boy Daniel, he’s trying his best!!! And Amanda LaRusso, we stan a queen!!!

Among the kids, definitely Miguel, with Demetri as a close second. I also love Sam, Aisha, Moon, and Hawk (pre- and post-Bastardization Arc, anyways XD)!

Favorite ship:  

Take a look at my username and take a WILD FUCKING GUESS lmao Yes it’s Eli/Demetri because DUH, every interaction they have is so fucking gay and Eli fucking saved him!!! And came back to him!!! And betrayed the world’s most terrifying dojo with a WAR CRIMINAL SENSEI all for Demetri!!! And how Demetri was willing to forgive him for everything at the drop of a hat because he always had faith there was still good in his best friend??? That’s TRUE LOVE motherfuckers. Please let them kiss in Season 4. I will sell you all of my limbs. Sam/Miguel is a close second because they’re cute as shit and it’s just so lovely to see two people so unapologetically smitten with each other. They are in LOVE, and I will RIOT if they break up again!!! Keep Sam and Miguel together 2k21!!!

Underrated character:

SAMANTHA LARUSSO!!! The amount of hate my girl gets for acting like a normal teenager and fucking up occasionally JUST like the rest of the cast makes me want to start punching things. She cares SO MUCH about her friends!!! And she loves the shit out of Miguel!!! She hasn’t always been the best friend but you know what??? Neither has Hawk, and we still forgave his ass!!! Also LET HER BE FEMININE but also kick utter ass, my god!!! Femininity should not be synonymous with being weak, y’all! ALSO DEMETRI, like yes, he likes to complain and occasionally run his mouth, but guess what else he likes to do??? Never give up on the love of his life his best friend Eli Moskowitz and refuse to lose faith in him no matter how much of a little shit he’s become, and I for one think that’s very badass of him. Also the way he takes care of Eli pre-Cobra Kai in his own snarky bastard way makes me absolutely Weak and needs more appreciation. Like the dude has charisma and COULD have probably made other friends and left Eli behind if he wanted, but did he??? No, he wants the weepy loser with the lip scar in the polo shirts and dorky sweaters and will protect him as much as his wimpy ass is able!!!

Underrated ship (don’t say therapy, lol):  

Among the adults, Daniel/Amanda!!! Like maybe I just don’t watch that much tv, but it seems kinda rare to me to see a happily married hetero couple, and it’s just nice to see a married couple who genuinely love each other and where there’s not like...lingering resentment or some shit. I feel like this ship gets overshadowed by Lawrusso a lot (which like--okay, fair!!! Daniel and Johnny do have a ridiculous amount of chemistry, and the gay undertones are undeniable, so I get it), and it makes me kinda sad. I do love Lawrusso, but I don’t like when Amanda has to get her heart broke for it to happen, you feel? Among the kids, honestly YasMoon. Like I really love the idea of Yasmine trying to better herself because of Moon’s influence on her and because Moon like...inspires her to be a better person, I guess? With their pretty strong friendship, it just makes more sense to me for Yasmine to get a redemption arc through Moon than through Demetri. ALSO girls DO often pull the whole “mean girl” shtick to cover up being closeted lesbians, and Moon IS canonically bi, so it could work!!! I just think this one could be a really interesting Friends to Lovers take, and could make a really nice coming-out arc for Yas. And MoonPiper too, honestly!!! Like they only got 5 seconds of screentime so I understand WHY it’s underrated, but I still love what we DID get and loved that there was a canon gay ship (even if only for 1 scene lmao). I’m really excited to potentially see more of them in Season 4!!! Please, I’m begging!!!

Wax On, Wax Off or Sweep the Leg?

Sweep the Leg because it will always be deeply hilarious to me how Demetri took note of the first move Eli ever used on him and spent presumably weeks perfecting it OUT OF SPITE just to get him back with it at the soccer game MONTHS later. Just goes to show how OBSESSED Demetri is with Eli and their little karate rivalry which is just NOT straight, I’m sorry

Which of Daniel’s dumb little outfits is your favorite?

There’s something so funny about this pretentious little fuck walking around in fancy suits once he becomes a #SuccessfulBusinessman, and still occasionally trying to do karate in a full-ass suit (take THAT, Tom Cole’s boba!!!) I’m also a big fan of how he looks in his gi with his little headband. Still killing that look as a 40-50-something!!!

Character from the films you most want to return, who’s not Terry Silver:

Tbh I have still never seen a single Karate Kid movie (they took them off of Netflix, RIP), so...I don’t really care if they bring anyone else back??? I’m invested in the characters we already have in the show, I don’t need some rando from the movies to make a cameo to have a good time XD The only character I really wanted them to bring back was Ali, and they already did, so like...I’m good??? That’s all I really needed, I can die in peace now XD

Scene that lives in your head rent-free:

Basically any fluffy Elimetri scene, but 5 in particular: ~Miguel first meeting Eli and Demetri at the lunch table, and Eli looking at Demetri like he hung every goddamn star in the sky ~Demetri going off at a terrifying, “unhinged” karate sensei on the first day of Cobra Kai because he made fun of Eli’s lip and Demetri is not about that shit ~ELI STEALING DEMETRI’S NACHO AND SMIRKING AT HIM, LIKE EXCUSE ME SIR PLEASE BE A LITTLE LESS HOMOSEXUAL IN FRONT OF YOUR GIRLFRIEND ~Eli yanking Demetri onstage during Valley Fest to hold a board, and Demetri being visibly like...extremely turned on when Eli breaks said board ~ELI SAVING DEMETRI DURING THE CHRISTMAS FIGHT, ELI APOLOGIZING, DEMETRI AND ELI KICKING COBRA ASS TOGETHER AKSBDCUWYVCBU

Will Anthony LaRusso ever be relevant?

I hope not! He’s kind of a funny meme character to pop up now and again but I don’t think he deserves a serious plotline when there are so many more interesting characters to follow.

You live in The Valley and are forced into the karate gang war. Which dojo do you join?

Miyagi-Do because Cobra Kai would eat me alive. Also I’d probably straight up get stuck and die in that cement mixer, if I even made it that far XD Besides, being salty that your friend who you have a crush on likes martial arts better than you and starting martial arts to impress them but also being too lazy to join anything TOO intense is a Big Mood and I am certainly not speaking from personal experience here, no sirree

What’s your training montage song?

"Shut Up and Drive” by Rihanna for a weight-training and bicep-flexing montage, “Whatever It Takes” by Imagine Dragons for a more intense punching-and-kicking-shit montage. I don’t know why this is, I just feel it in my heart.

It’s the crossover event of the century! Which TV show are you combining with Cobra Kai for an hour-long Saturday night special?

*Briefly panics because I don’t actually watch that much TV and most of the stuff I do watch is fantasy/sci fi shit that absolutely would not work for a CK crossover*

Hmmmm okay but ACTUALLY

You know what would be fucking funny as hell would be an It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia crossover. Allow me to elaborate: ~The Gang goes to LA on vacation during the height of the Karate Dojo Wars. They literally can get barely anything done without all these goddamn karate-fighting teenagers getting in the way. ~They are all very annoyed by this. Even the most obscure of tourist attractions is eventually intercepted by karate fights. ~Mac tries to join Cobra Kai because he sees all this karate fighting on, and wants to unquestionably prove both his badassery and masculinity. Both Johnny and Kreese are like “Wtf are you doing here? Aren’t you like 30?” ~Mac gets a planet-sized crush on Johnny after all of 5 minutes and endlessly gushes to the gang about him. The gang mercilessly roast him about this and about how much of a pathetic loser with his life together in no way whatsoever Johnny sounds like. They proceed to have exactly 0 self awareness about this. ~The Waitress is in town visiting family or something, and Charlie is stalking her, as per usual. However, every time he’s about to go up and talk to her, a pack of battling Miyagi-Dos and Cobra Kais throwing punches and kicks everywhere blocks his path. One times, Mac is among one of these packs and Charlie is like “???? He didn’t get kicked out of that teen karate dojo yet???” ~Seeing how much the Kids These Days seem to like fighting, Charlie drops by a local high school to try and sell Fight Milk to the kids doing karate. Only Kyler and Brucks buy into it, and subsequently get the entire West Valley High wrestling team sick. Charlie is inevitably arrested, as Counselor Blatt thinks he’s selling the kids drugs. ~Dennis makes a plan to have sex with every hot chick he can in Los Angeles. He meets Ali on a dating app post-divorce, and inevitably tries to bang her. It doesn’t work. ~Frank crashes the rental car, and inevitably the gang ends up at one of Daniel’s dealerships. Dee quickly takes a liking to Daniel and is like “Watch, assholes--Imma homewreck this guy’s marriage.” She starts frequenting the dealerships to attempt to flirt with Daniel, until one day she walks in on him having sex with Johnny in a back room and she’s like “Is that the guy from Mac’s goddamn dojo?!?!” ~Dennis, of course, tries to sleep with Amanda. Amanda is not having it, and rebukes him in the most snarky, Amanda-esque way possible. Dennis is just like “Oh not AGAIN--the women in this goddamn diva city have too high of standards!” ~Later on, the gang is at the beach and Dennis spots the blonde lady he went out on an ill-fate date with, and decides to give it another shot--that is, until he sees her go up and kiss another woman and he’s like “IS THAT THE LADY FROM THE CAR DEALERSHIP??? STUPID-KARATE-KICK-COMMERCIAL’S WIFE?!? YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.” ~Dee complains to Dennis about her lack of luck getting laid, and Dennis is just like “Oh come ON, is everyone in Los Angeles gay???” Smash cut to Hawk and Demetri having sex, Moon and Piper making out, Bert and Nate holding hands, Chris and Mitch doing oral, and Amanda, Ali, and Carmen having a threesome. ~Frank tries to scam Kreese into buying cheaply-made karate equipment for his dojo. The gang ends up having to leave LA because Kreese is quite literally plotting all of their murders.

For tagging, uuuuhhhhhh @jackonthelongwalk @soe-leo @max-eagle-fang @cc-tinslebee @backawayfromthegay @asphodel-storm do the thing, if y’all haven’t yet!

[wisherbysharlight]

WHAT IF... SANDERS SIDES BUT MAKE IT A TROPEY TEEN BEACH AU

Endgame!LAMP. Dukeceit, Remile

Just 2k stream of consciousness words from a plunny that grew legs TW for v slight underage drinking, one joking mention of violence, and a non-specific discussion of intrusive thoughts

-Janus has just moved there because his parents wanted to start a new "adventure" and he is a Stereotypical Teenager. Very "ugh MOM I wanna go back to my FRIENDS for my LAST SUMMER BEFORE COLLEGE"(most of his friends suck. He should not spend time with them. He does not know this)

His Parents buy him a surfboard and tell him to try it out as a way to get him to Shut Up

Hes a Skater Boy(cue music) so he picks it up super fast from like,,, youtube videos

 -He gets told to Get a Job if he wants to like, keep buying surf gear?

All the local kids work at like one restaurant/yacht club type place right on the beach

Janus gets hired as a host

 -Logan is a beach badge checker, Patton, Roman, and Remus are beachfront restaurant waiters but Roman just Really Wants To Surf, Emile and Virgil are Lifeguards, and Remy is a bartender

 -Janus is Very Good At Customer Service because Fake Smiles

Patton recognizes this Immediately

He shows him the Rage Closet which is a tiny room with an arm chair that locks from the inside where you can punch a pillow on your break when it gets to be Too Much

-Janus is Attached now and there is no getting rid of him

Patton Fully Endorses this and introduces him to the rest of the group

Janus Knows Immediately that LAMP is In Love but says nothing because he aint no snitch

-Remus surfs, but he also always wear a thong while doing it

Roman wears a full wetsuit and somehow still gets Board Rash. Remus is somehow immune and it infuriates him

 -Janus, not knowing that the twins live right on the beach cuz they are RichTM: Hey Ree I kinda wanna learn how to surf would you be able to teach me 

Remus, who religiously watches Janus surf every morning, but is absolutely willing to play this game: Yeah absolutely

Patton, later: “lets rinse off at the twins they’re right here” Janus: theyre.... What?!

 -Meanwhile, elsewhere, Virgil and Roman are double teaming Logan to drag him into the water with them cuz he’s pouting about losing a debate with their manager about how he didn’t really be mean to the dudebro who wanted to get his buddies onto the beach without paying, he was just enforcing the rules. And if the dude was so offended by Logan’s Very Accurate Dragging that he complained to management then, well, that’s his problem not Logan’s

 -Logan is never without a book. Ever. And its always a different book. Janus is starting to think he owns a library

One day he is just... reading a Physics textbook. Not taking notes or anything. Just reading. 

Roman is Very Very Alarmed by this because he is Gay and Math is Scary

"Roman I'm also gay that is not a determining factor"

"Yeah but you can't drive"

"...fair"

 -the first time janus has a shift with the twins, he cant stop staring, not just because hes like,,, super attracted to Remus but also because they are like Chaos Incarnate and yet somehow get the most tips??? He doesn't understand???

It's just cuz they are both Huge Flirts and Flatterers and the patrons dont care that they're not-so-subtly beating the shit out of each other right there on the dining floor because theyre just so charming

 -one of the bartenders gets aggressively snapped at by a customer and called "sweetheart" and before Janus can even begin to react Remy is there, sunglasses off, fire in his eyes, telling them to settle their bill and get the fuck out

Janus, used to City Restaurants- "Wont you get in trouble with the owner?!"

Remy, who knows Nothing Else But This- "What?? Not likely I only did it cuz Thomathy wasnt here to do it himself"

 -the restaurant is closed Monday and Tuesday so that is the Pseudo Weekend for the staff where everyone hangs out at the beach

Emile and Virgil take Tuesdays off but still work Monday’s cuz they feel better being the one watching over their friends

 -Roman, staring at Virgil on the lifeguard stand: ugh he’s so pretty I almost wish I was drowning just so he could give me cpr 

Janus: you wanna potentially get your ribs broken just for lip contact? 

Remy, staring at Emile on the lifeguard stand: listen, if that’s what it takes, I’ll take it

Remus, immediately going up to the lifeguard stand because he has 0 impulse control: hey my brother and cousin want you to break their ribs 

Virgil and Emile: excuse me?????

 -Patton will literally spend hours in the water. Logan physically drags him out to put sunscreen on him every two hours to the minute. Patton does not admit that he purposely "forgets" just so Logan will do so

Logan is Dark and has never used sunscreen ever but Patton is so pale and he just gets so concerned about him. Patton thinks its adorable

He has pages of research on proper spf determination.

Roman and Remus use spf 15 just on their faces and have never once burned in their lives

Logan wants to submit them for scientific study because that shouldnt be possible

Virgil calls Logan out on the fact that he also should be wearing sunscreen and Logan like... blue screens he cant believe in all his research he missed that

 -Patton is like... a ridiculously strong swimmer. Virgil still has a heart attack every time he goes for laps when there is the slightest hint of an undertow

Patton Knows This so he tries to stay in Virgil's sight line for the most part if there is an undertow. Or just dives over the waves again and again.

His nickname is Ariel. He thinks its just cuz of the swimming and the fact hes a red head. LAP all separately also tack on that its the swimming, the red hair, and the hnng pretty 10/10 would follow out to sea ala Prince Eric

 -first beach bonfire Janus goes to Remy is Fully In Emile's Lap like... half an hour in

he has had like maybe a sip of a beer

Remus says he still claims this is because he is a Clingy Drunk

no one will call him on it, least of all Emile

 -there is truth or dare. Roman may or may not skinny dip you have no proof

 -Logan gets infuriated that he cannot roast a marshmallow properly

Patton does it perfectly every single time but its ok cuz he shares and Logan eats it right from his fingers and Roman and Virgil are just in the background Trying and Failing not to be the Most Jealous

Patton thinks theyre upset they didn't get marshmallows and makes some for them too and there is lots of Significant Eye Contact involved

Janus is going to spontaneously combust if they don't get their shit together

 -Janus is out walking on the beach one night on a full moon cuz he cant sleep with everything so quiet around here when he sees a bright green patch out in the water and goes ...wait

he calls out to Remus and he comes into shore and is like "waves are perfect at night you should join me" so janus goes back and gets his board and they surf and chat for like the entire night

Janus finds out Remus couldn't sleep cuz intrusive thoughts were keeping him awake

Janus listens and doesn't judge, just lets Remus talk it out

They go back to shore and fall asleep on the sand next to each other like mid sentence still talking, now about whatever creative business idea Remus had, and get woken up by Logan's morning rounds like "come on guys you know you're not allowed to sleep out here" but they dont care theyre both just *blushing emoji*

-Logan Always Has A Notebook right? And a regular book he reads. And everyone assumes they are like Notions and Observations, but no, it’s actually blank paper and he uses it to sketch and then one day he leaves it behind and someone either Virgil or Patton finds it and flips through it and it’s all sketches of them and Roman and they’re like??? Actually really good? Anyway that’s how they find out Logan is actually minoring in art even though he’s majoring in something Very STEM 

And he never told his best friends because like almost all his pre college art is Them and he doesn’t want to be caught having Feelings and by the time it gets to college it’s been too long and he can’t tell them now 

Roman takes one of the sketches of him surfing and makes it his profile picture on All Social Media He Has and Logan is so flustered he nearly breaks his damn phone

Patton is so offended he didn’t get invited to Logan’s first showcase that he doesn’t talk to him for like two whole hours 

Virgil quietly asks if there is any art of all four of them, finds out there is, and makes a print and keeps it on his bedside table

 -They are all Pining Outwardly Now and its Worse

 -Remus : you have known them since pre-k please ask them out I beg of you 

Roman: You just dont get it 

Remus: I asked Janus out after 4 weeks what is your problem

 Emile: Virgil, I love you, you are my Partner in Anti-Drowning but you are so stupid 

Virgil: What???? All I said is that you and Remy are really cute and I'd love to be in a relationship like that 

Emile: I am not a violent person, Virgil, but I have the strong urge to smack you

 Patton, in the Rage Closet: They're all just so hOT and ReSPEctFUL 

Janus, waiting for his turn, trying to act like he cant hear him: I Am Looking Elsewhere

 Logan: I just don't understand why they were more upset that I didn't tell them than that I'd been making art of them for years?? Shouldn't that second part be worse??

Remy, who has been partial to Every Single One Of AMP Waxing Poetic About Logan: Yeah, no idea /s

 -the twins get into a surfing competition as a pair and everyone goes to see them and support them

Thomas airs the competition on every tv in the restaurant cuz he’s Proud of his Bois

They WIN cuz they are Creative and Talented and came up with all sorts of crazy tricks while they were fucking around in the water but it earns them Major Bonus Points for originality

 -Roman does the run off the podium and into Love’s arms trope with just like... whoever’s closest lets go Patton because he is a Waif and forced himself up front so he can see

The other two are Devastated because well shit but then Roman pushes through the crowd, still holding Patton’s hand, and gives them this smile and is like “remember in like second grade when we said we’d do everything together and made a pact on this beach”

Analogical: uhhhhhh yeah

Roman: holding you both to it. No take backs. This counts. Now kiss me, dammit, we WON and they DO MANY TIMES AND ITS REAL CUTE

 -Meanwhile dukeceit have Mysteriously Disappeared and No One wants to be the ones to go find them. They show back up, eventually. Janus has a branch in his hair and remus' hair is sticking straight up and when he opens his mouth roman glares at him and tells him in no uncertain terms that they do not want to know

 AnYWaY these are my children and I will gladly answer any questions about them. I left out Janus Backstory and Creativitwins Angst and Many Individual LAMP Scenes and Remile/Dukeceit getting together and Epilogue but can absolutely provide such things on request

[sierraraeck]

Ancient History and Open Wounds (Pt.1)

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: In an effort to save Aundreya, the BAU has to turn to some unlikely allies before it’s too late. Story twenty.

Category: Angst.

Warnings: Cussing. Kidnapping. I don’t explicitly talk about torture, but it happens. Someone gets shot. Quick mention of previous sexual abuse and drug abuse.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: I’m very proud of how this story went, it’s kinda chaotic, but hopefully worth it. Also, prepare yourselves. A lot is about to go down.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

We planned for a lot, Niko, Mateo, Roman, Deen, and I. We ran through as many scenarios we could come up with and our next steps for each one. This, though. This we did not plan for.

I was always waking up with some sort of physical pain now-a-days, but this pain felt different. My head hurt, and my nose and throat burned. Not to mention, I started with a jolt, like the panic I felt right before passing out was just put on hold, and was rushing back to me all at once.

I rapidly blinked my eyes open, scanning my surroundings. There was something about it that seemed familiar, even though I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. There was dust everywhere and the room was warm, like we were over a giant boiler. There were two windows to my right that didn’t look very functional with newspapers covering them, but the rest of the room looked actually kinda cozy. If I hadn’t known better, I would have said it looked like a mini nursing home for one.

I moved my fingers around a little, then my toes, waking my body up little by little. I was bound to a pole, chains clasped to something above my head and on the other side. My legs were useless as well, multiple rows of chains holding them to the pole. That really only left my midsection stretched and exposed, like a pig about to be roasted above a fire.

“Morning.” Hot breath scraped across my ear, and I hadn’t even heard the person come in. “I was starting to worry that your ability to resist drugs and such was starting to wear off, but I was wrong.” He finally turned to face me and my stomach fell to my feet.

It was those same grey eyes, those same tattoos on his neck. His hair had changed, gotten a bit longer than his usual buzzcut, but his face was the same. A little stubble along his jaw as well, but it was like I was transported back in time to my first day after initiation with the Cloaks.

I knew this was coming, I did, and I tried to prepare myself, but there was no way in hell I felt remotely prepared to see him again. I wanted to kick myself for my initial reaction to do whatever he said and get out of this as quickly as possible. But I knew that couldn’t be how this time went. No, it couldn’t be, because I’d angered him much more than I ever had before. Not only that, but I was above him now. I took his gang, had my own ring, escaped a supermax, joined the FBI, and killed his love. I was supposed to be stronger than him. Fiercer. But I felt none of that at the moment. I was fucking terrified.

But I’d rather die than show him I was still scared, “DeLeon.” I spat his name like the shit it was.

“We were close once,” he mused, “You know, you can still call me Jamar.”

“We aren’t close now, DeLeon,” I hissed, making sure he got the point.

“Come on, Aundreya-”

“Chambers,” I raised my eyebrows, “You can call me Chambers.”

“You don’t make the demands around here,” he almost sang. Before I could make a smart comment back, he cut me off with a ‘tsk.’ “I’d stop talking if I were you.”

“I will never take your orders.” I immediately shot back.

“You know, this could all go away if you just stop fighting,” he replied smugly, knowing very well what my answer would be.

“I will never get on my knees for you.”

He grinned, “Oh, I know you wouldn’t do it for me, but that’s why I didn’t come empty handed. You see, I’ve heard that you have a weakness.”

“Oh, uh-huh, and what’s that?” I probed.

Without answering, he disappeared behind me. He gloated, “That little team of yours.” I heard some clanking and maneuvering, and then he reappeared lugging a massive cart.

“Trust me, that is not my team.”

“Sure, you say that, but let’s test that theory shall we?” On the cart were three different television screens. He gave me a smile before turning them on one by one. When they buzzed to life, whatever I was supposed to be seeing was dark and indecipherable. “Thanks to Doctor Madden’s lovely hospitality, and loaded bank account,” he gestured at the three tvs, “This was a successful and brilliant set up.”

That’s when I figured out why this place was so familiar. We were in Doctor Madden’s attic. When her mom was sick a few years back, she transformed the attic into her own little care facility, which I only ever visited once. Oh fuck. “What did you do with Doctor Madden?”

He completely ignored me, instead, reaching for a small remote that he aimed over to my left side. I turned that way and saw a small camera blink to life, the faint red light letting me know it was on and recording. He turned back to the tvs, his back facing me, and I heard him whisper into what I assumed was his phone. The moment he turned back around, all three of the pictures on the tvs panned out, showing me a perfect view of the outside of Spencer, Rossi, and JJ’s house.

“What is this?” I asked, the words barely making it out.

“Now, you said you’d never get on your knees for me, and I believe you, but would you get on your knees for them?” He was speaking very calmly, which was drastically different from the hot-headed DeLeon I once knew. Which scared me even more.

We waited in silence while we watched the tv screens. Rossi was having another house party, it appeared, with himself, Aaron, Derek, Emily, Penelope and Tara all drinking and laughing, JJ was at her house with Will and the boys, and Spencer was at his apartment. The curtains were still open, and he looked like he was alone for a moment before I saw someone’s head peek out of his bedroom. Maeve. He was with Maeve. At his apartment, in his bedroom, probably sharing the same experience I once did on the same goddamn mattress. I saw his eyes light up when she coaxed him into the bedroom, and I turned my attention back to the other two screens.

“In a few seconds, the live feed of the two of us will be transmitted to the BAU’s network. They’ll get to watch and hear everything that goes on,” DeLeon assured. I waited for what had to be at least a minute without any change.

But then I saw Penelope running out to the rest of the group, iPad in hand. She pulled Hotch and Derek aside first, frantically showed them what was on it, and then they called out to the rest of the group. They all grabbed their stuff in an instant, and made their way out of the backyard. The camera angle changed then, showing the front of Rossi’s mansion as they all piled into their respective cars, driving the same way. I turned to JJ’s screen, where I saw her rush out of the house on her phone. She kissed Will on the cheek, then got in her car and sped away. At the same time, I saw Spencer emerge from the bedroom, readjust his clothes, then run to his car. Each person had multiple camera angles on them, and then, all three of them changed to show the BAU.

And then the full force of dread came crashing down on me. DeLeon noticed it too, and started chuckling. “Figured it out yet?”

I swallowed, and looked at him, mouth agape. “You put snipers on them.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

~2 months earlier~

“Guys, guys, guys, guys, guys,” Penelope rushed into the round table room, stopping all conversations. They’d just gotten a new case, and were confused why she was back already, and so startled. “Stop what you are doing.”

Everyone had already stopped what they were doing, and waited for her to get whatever it was up on the big screen.

“Meet Xena Adaland,” Penelope said, gesturing to the crime scene photos.

“You mean…?” Derek trailed off.

“Xena as in Xena from Aundreya’s list? Yes,” her eyes grew about three sizes. It was a miracle they didn’t just fall right out of her head.

“How’d you pull that off? Isn’t her identity completely untraceable?” Derek questioned.

“Uh, it doesn’t really matter, and yes,” she quickly answered the other question, “But trust me, it’s her.”

“Where is this?” Hotch asked.

“This is just outside of Chicago in an old MMA gym that’s been closed for over three years,” Penelope informed.

“In Chicago?” Emily confirmed, “If Chambers is running, isn’t that too obvious a place for her to hide?”

“Yes, but if she didn’t want Xena knowing any of the other places she’d been staying at, going to where they first met wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Derek chimed in.

“Plus, she’s smart. We’d obviously think she’d go somewhere that can’t be connected to her, so going someplace too easy might be overlooked,” Rossi added.

“Do we think this was just her? I mean, if this girl was one of Chambers’ biggest rivals, she’s got to be smart, right? There’s no way she would have let herself be lured into a trap that obvious without other people being involved,” JJ offered.

“I’m not so sure,” Rossi mused. “I think there is a lot about Chambers we don’t know. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did that all on her own.”

“And come on. She had all that time in prison to plan something like this,” Derek said. “Plus, she used to be, and obviously still is, one of the highest profile criminals ever.”

“Prentiss, Rossi, I want you two to fly out to Chicago and check this out. As for the rest of us, we will be working the other case,” Hotch commanded.

The two of them headed toward the door, but stopped shy. They’d all been thinking this, but Rossi was the one who voiced it, “And the kid?”

‘The Kid’ in question was not currently in the room. He had one more day left of vacation, and would be flying out to the team the next day. Spencer hadn’t been handling things well, and just started to round the corner with the team, and Maeve’s, helps. This was not the kind of information he needed right now. Not to say that the team thought he was fragile and incapable of handling this information, he’d dealt with much worse and still been able to do his job, but why give him information they don’t know for sure was relevant?

“He’ll be working with us,” is all Hotch offered, but it was enough to relay the message to the rest of the team: Do not mention this to him. Let me handle the excuses.

Prentiss and Rossi landed a couple of hours later and immediately drove to the crime scene. Garcia told them that she’d called the police chief and he’d be waiting for them there.

“Hello agents,” he greeted, extending his hand.

“Agent Prentiss, this is agent Rossi,” Emily took his hand then gestured to Rossi who followed suit.

“Chief Welter. This way,” he led them inside the abandoned gym which they could see pretty well in the daytime, despite all the dust and boarded up windows. “It’s pretty bad, but I’ve got to ask. Why’re the Feds interested in some one-off?”

“Might be connected to something else,” was all Prentiss offered. The man just nodded, giving her a slight side eye, but her full attention was already on the scene. There was a lot of blood, nearly dried, that left only a small oval shaped area that was uncovered. There were obvious signs of a struggle, but overall, things felt too clean. I mean, there was a little dribbled blood here, and a small splatter there that could have occurred from the fight, but something about it felt off. It didn’t seem staged, and there was no obvious evidence that the scene had been tampered with, but it just felt wrong. Maybe it was just because they already knew who did it, and they had a very complicated relationship with her.

But whatever the reason, they continued on as planned. They evaluated the scene, then went to the station to make sure they had all of the pictures and all of the evidence available. The next stop was the ME.

On the car ride there, Emily asked, “Did something feel off to you?”

“Expand,” Rossi said.

“Like, did something about that scene feel wrong to you? I don’t really know how to describe it, but something about it seemed so perfectly ordinary and perfectly random that it couldn’t have been random? I don’t know if that’s making any sense but-”

“I get what you’re saying. Like everything seemed so staged yet not staged at the same time?” Rossi looked over at Emily and she nodded. They parked the car and headed toward the ME’s office.

“Do you think we should tell the rest of the team about when we saw her?”

Rossi sighed and pushed open the front door, “Let’s wait and see how this pans out, and then we’ll figure out if we need to tell the rest of the team.”

“Tell the rest of the team what?” The moment they heard those harsh words, they didn’t even have to look at him to know they were in deep. Spencer just looked at them expectantly. “Tell us what?”

“Spence, look-”

“Don’t, Emily. What the hell, guys! Does no one tell me anything anymore?” he spat.

“We were going to tell you-” Rossi tried.

“Were you? Then why’d I have to profile it out of Penelope?” Neither one had a good answer for that. “So what else are you not telling me, hm?”

Prentiss exchanged a look with Rossi and sighed. “We saw her.”

Reid seemed speechless for a moment before whispering with wild eyes, “What?”

“At the hospital. She came to visit Morgan, Hotch, and JJ after … you know. It was like two am but she was there. Just watching them. And we saw her,” Prentiss finished.

Reid was frozen for a few seconds before asking, “How was she?” All the anger seemed to seep out of his voice.

“Fine. We didn’t talk but she looked okay,” she tacked on, “Physically, at least.”

“So she’s alive?” Reid confirmed.

“Sure is, kid,” Rossi assured.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this,” Reid accused, venom returning just as quickly as it had left, “You know this has been driving me crazy for months now, how could you not tell me? You were just going to let me lose sleep and struggle to figure this out and spin out of control and then solve it behind my back? I can help, so why won’t you let me? You know how important she-” he rapidly stopped himself. He slowly released a breath and brought his volume back under control, not having fully realized he was yelling, “how important this is to me.”

Rossi and Prentiss shared yet another look, then Rossi said, “Okay Reid. Then help us.”

That was all he needed to hear before turning to enter the office.

They were all relieved to find out that, as far as evidence could tell, Aundreya was fine. Actually, she should be more than fine. Not even a single drop of her blood was at the scene. It was like Xena was fighting a ghost, a very vengeful one at that.

But they all knew that if Aundreya was so worried about this girl that she must be good. And if she was good, there was no way that she walked away without a scratch.

Emily realized that’s what felt off about the scene. It was incredible, actually, if she thought about it. An entire fight and murder took place that they were sure Chambers was involved in, yet, evidence of anyone else being there didn’t exist. Somehow the scene had been set up and cleaned without even a shred of evidence to show that it had been set up or cleaned.

It made them wonder, though. They knew Chambers had a network of people she was in charge of, a group only referred to as ‘the ring,’ but they didn’t know anything else about them. Now, however, seeing that crime scene, all they knew was that they were fantastic at their jobs. And it was terrifying. Not to mention, if she was the leader of this group, what did that say about her?

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

~Present~

The team rushed into the bullpen just after the 10 o’clock hour completely in a panic, but all trying to control it. Penelope already had the live feed up on the big screen.

It was Aundreya, there was no doubt about that, but she looked like a wreck. She was chained to a pole, bruises everywhere and her stitches visible.

“Those should be healed by now,” Spencer pointed out. No one had anything to say about that, all their minds coming to the same conclusion that it was either the man in front of her or Xena that had opened them back up. How she got them sewn shut again was a whole different matter.

The man Penelope still couldn’t identify was talking to her, “I started to worry that this wouldn’t even work, considering the tension between you and the team. I mean, maybe they don’t care enough to look for you, and maybe you don’t care enough about them to make your decisions interesting.”

“What decisions?” Aundreya spat.

The man continued on as if she hadn’t spoken, “But then I remember that I know something they don’t. Something you aren’t even willing to admit to yourself.” He flashed a hateful smile.

“Which is?” she sounded bored more than anything, but their profiler ears could hear the slight panic in her voice.

“You. Care,” the man said it like it was an insult, “You care so deeply, actually, that it physically pains you. And it’s true that you don’t care about much, but when you do, you care about it more than anything else and no matter how many times it hurts you or betrays you, you can’t help but care. That’s why this will work.”

“What will?” Aundreya sounded like she was fed up with his games.

“I’m glad you asked, and you’ll figure it out in due time. But why don’t you tell your friends over there,” he waved to the camera, “how you got here.”

“A lot has happened, you might want to narrow that time frame down.”

“Think of the biggest reason for me to have you here, like this,” he hissed, gesturing to her form. Aundreya just smirked at him. “Say it!”

“Look, if they’re actually watching this, which maybe they aren’t,” she shrugged, “they either already know what I did, or are about to put it together within the next thirty seconds, so there’s really no need for either of us to waste out breath.”

Penelope was the first to comment. “Does she really think that we wouldn’t care enough to watch this?”

A couple heads turned toward her, but it was Hotch that spoke, “I’m not sure there is much either of them is going to say that we can weigh too heavily on.” As much as Spencer, or Emily, or Rossi wanted to protest that statement, defending her character, they couldn’t. He was right. They knew her to lie. Plus, it was in Penelope’s best interest (who were they kidding, all of their interest) to hear that as well.

Their attention was brought back to the screen when the man spoke again, “Well then I hope they see this.” He walked out of frame only to come back with a small dagger. He reached up and carved an ‘X’ into one of her palms. Aundreya squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw, but other than that, she didn’t flinch.

“You think that’s going to do it?” she spat, “That’s not anywhere near what you’ve done to-”

Her words were cut off by the sudden sound of skin on skin, head whipping to the side.

“Oh, that?” the man asked, gesturing toward the large scar down her chest, “I’ve got more in store for you than that. Just taking my time. So I won’t ask again. Tell them. You know what else is on the line.”

“Son of a bitch,” Spencer froze in his spot. This is the man that gave her that? That bastard, I swear to god, I’ll-

“Spencer, what?” JJ asked, looked at him startled.

He was careful not to say anything she wouldn’t want them knowing, but rushed, “She once told me about some guy from the gang who, uh, hurt her while she was there. He gave her that scar before he left and she took over. That’s him.” The rest of the team turned back to the screen with a new understanding.

Aundreya dropped eye contact with the man before admitting, “What? That I killed Xena, ‘your love’ or whatever.”

“Don’t mock her!”

Aundreya’s voice was surprisingly level when she replied, “She was keeping things from you, DeLeon.”

“DeLeon?” Emily breathed, “That’s him?”

“No wonder he’s the last name on her list,” Derek chimed in. He followed what Reid was implying even though it seemed like no one else did, and he could understand the amount of rage coursing through her and why, even though she was the one chained up, she still talked to him like it was the other way around.

Their attention was pulled back to the screen at Aundreya’s next words, “You think, you both thought, that the other was perfect and aligned with your goals and wants, but guess what? That’s not true.”

“You don’t have a right to talk about us,” DeLeon hissed, but they could see him falter just slightly.

She continued, “You were working together out of necessity, you were both broken, and you thought you loved each other, but you didn’t. She was lying to you and going behind your back and just because you helped each other through a tough time, and supposedly were in love, doesn’t mean that you were on the same team. It doesn’t mean you wanted the same things and it certainly doesn’t mean you’re right for each other. A mutual hate for someone or a mutual goal to ‘get the bad guy’ does not make you compatible, that’s not how it works!” Aundreya’s voice quieted as she took a deep breath, some sort of understanding in her eyes. She looked at the camera for the first time and repeated, “That’s not how it works.”

“Don’t try to send them messages!” DeLeon marched over and shut off the camera, but not before promising, “We’ll be back.”

The team was silent. They were sure she was sending them a message, but they didn’t think it was quite in the way that DeLeon thought. Slowly, all eyes drifted over to Reid, who hadn’t reacted at all since the camera had been shut off.

Is that what she thinks happened between us? That we were broken and transferring and not on the same team and-

“Garcia could you get a trace on that?” Hotch asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

“I’m trying, sir, but he’s really good,” Garcia’s voice sounded watery.

“Okay, the rest of us need to start on a profile,” Hotch commanded, and they all started moving toward the round table room. Reid stayed cemented in his spot. “Reid?”

“Yeah, um, you guys start that, I’ll be right back,” he rushed, now frantically moving to grab his jacket, without his satchel, and headed out the door.

“Where are you going?” Derek called after him.

“I think I know someone who can help,” Spencer shouted back, then continued his path out the door. They watched him out, but then quickly got to work.

Series Taglist (open)

@justanothetfangirl @kris-stuff @blameitonthenight21 @wooya1224 @unded-bride @swiftingday @dezzxmx

[pressedinthepages]

Love

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Ciri & Eskel (Platonic/Familial), Geralt/Eskel, Lambert/Aiden

Rating: T

Masterlist

a/n: No request this time, just wanted to write something soft.

thanks to @sometimesiwrite​ for being a great beta/idea machine/friend :)

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: language, softer than a freshly washed puppy, ~yearning~

Ciri asks about love.

    “Hey, Uncle Eskel?”

    Ciri’s voice, smooth and level with her age, rings over the ramparts from which Eskel currently hangs. Vesemir has given them all a chore for the afternoon, and Eskel is finishing closing a gaping maw in the structure of the inner wall of the keep. He is just barely perched on a scaffold, reaching to place the last stone in a spot that’s *just* outside of his reach. 

    Eskel turns to look down at Ciri, her ashen hair shining bright in the waning sun. He huffs as the breeze catches his dark hair and flops it down into his eyes. Ciri giggles, a sweet sound that she has yet to grow out of. Gods, I hope she never does, Eskel thinks.

    “Yes, Swallow?” Eskel is pretty proud that of all the dumb things Lambert and Geralt tried to nickname Ciri, his was the one that stuck. 

    Ciri crosses her arms over her chest, looking all the world like Geralt whenever he has his mind set on something that is almost certainly an inconvenience for Eskel. “After supper, I would appreciate your insight on some personal matters.” Ciri winks, her proper tone eclipsed by a chuckle just under her breath. 

    Eskel grins a bit, thinking back on their previous discussions. She’s grown up quite a bit, still on the earlier side of twenty, but her mind is sharp as a blade, and her tongue even sharper. “Of course, it would be an honor.” Eskel bows where he hangs, making his position even more precarious. He hears the quick intake of breath from Ciri and sits back up, smiling wide even as his scar pulls at his lip.

    “Don’t worry, little one,” Eskel says, switching the stone to his other hand before leaning back to the hole. “You’ll not get rid of me that easily.”

    Shortly after, Eskel and Ciri get to the supper table just as Lambert is serving. He’s on cooking duty all week, which works out well for everyone. He’s got the most agreeable palette, and he uses it well. However, next in the rotation is Geralt. He has the most sensitive nose out of all of them so he doesn’t season, and can’t cook a bird for shit. Eskel plans on appreciating his younger brother’s cooking as much as he can before the next week of bland meat and undercooked bread. 

    “Eat up, fuckers.” Lambert sets a large dish on the table, a hearty roast full of venison and root vegetables that had been stored away before the frost set in. A layer of lightly spiced shortcrust covers the top, and is served alongside tankards of ale and a hunk of dark bread. 

    “Smells delicious, Lambert,” Ciri calls after his retreating form. Eskel sees how the tips of his ears blush as he pours some of his “vodka” (which is really just shitty leftover potion water) into his tankard, but Eskel only smiles down into his plate. Vesemir joins them too, and the four of them tuck into the generous offering.

    Their peace is short-lived though, cut off by the abrupt clang of the great doors flying open. Geralt stomps into the common area where they all sit, and Eskel wrinkles his nose. Geralt is soaked head to toe, and he smells like a mix between a decaying fish and a little bit of vomit after too much spicy food. 

    Lambert clearly picks up on it too, offering Geralt a sip of his drink. “Drowner duty?”

    Geralt grunts as he sits across from Ciri, bumping Eskel’s shoulder as he helps himself to the dinner. Geralt moans a bit as he takes the first bite, and Eskel shudders at the sound. He’s always been weak for Geralt’s voice, especially with how rarely he actually uses it. 

    They eat quickly now, forced to scarf it down in an effort to escape the devastating scent that Geralt brought to the table.  Eskel drains the last of his ale and grabs an apple, slicing it in half and handing some to Ciri. She whips out her own dagger and cuts away the core before portioning it neatly into several smaller mouthfuls. 

    Geralt sighs before pushing himself to stand, a whole new waft of nauseating aroma settling with the sudden movement. “I’m going to wash.”

    “Thank Melitele’s sweet tits, I thought you were just gonna make that part of your ~look~ now, pretty boy.” Lambert leans back with his boots kicked up on the table, carving a crude drawing into a pear from the table. Geralt walks quietly away from the table before turning abruptly and swinging his leg wide, catching Lambert’s chair and yanking it out from under him. He flails wildly before his ass hits the ground and he turns to grab at Geralt’s ankle. But he has already torn off towards the baths, and Lambert huffs before scrabbling to his feet and chasing after him, his pear long forgotten.

    Vesemir sighs in the now much quieter room, also standing and picking up his plate. “Well done on that wall today Eskel. Looks much better.”

    “Thanks, wasn’t anything too difficult.”

    “Maybe so, but I still appreciate it.” Eskel smiles as Vesemir walks away, letting himself revel in the praise for a moment. 

    Ciri clears her throat, bringing Eskel back to the matter at hand. “Library?” She asks, and Eskel nods. He takes Ciri’s plate and sets them into the washbasin for a later time. They trek up the stairs and push open the heavy wooden door. Eskel lights the fire with a flick of his fingers and the room instantly warms, the air light and swirling around them. 

    Eskel watches as Ciri plops down onto the dense fur in front of the fire, warming her hands as the orange light dances over her face. He walks over to his trusty copy of the Beastiary, only to pick it up and find it much lighter than he would expect. He opens it, and instead of his glass bottle of White Gull, there is a note in the hollowed-out hole. 

    ‘Maybe pick a less obvious hiding place, douche-canoe.’

    The handwriting is scrappy and small, just like the younger witcher that wrote it. Eskel sighs before turning to another bookcase, finding a heavy tome that Jaskier had left for him a few years prior. He flips this one open and finds two small flasks of Toussaint wine, which is certainly better than nothing. 

    Eskel walks silently over to Ciri and hands her one of the glasses before sprawling out beside her. They sit in silence for a while, as has become tradition while Ciri gathers her thoughts. They both sip at the wine, and Eskel needs to remember to write a letter to Jaskier at Oxenfurt for saving his ass tonight. 

    “I have to warn you Eskel,” Ciri murmurs, and Eskel looks over to her with a crook of his brow. “This isn’t going to be an easy one.”

    Eskel hums, taking another sip of wine. “Never is, kid.”

    Ciri takes in a deep breath, steeling herself with a long chug of the alcohol in her grasp. “How do you know if you’re in love with someone?”

    Eskel’s eyes widen imperceptibly, and he can feel how his heart skips a beat. “Damn Ciri,” he chuckles, “you weren’t kidding when you said this wouldn’t be easy.”

    Ciri only shrugs with a smirk. Eskel shifts a bit, partially to get himself more comfortable, and partially to give himself more time to think. He can only wiggle around for so long before it gets weird for everyone though, so he just ends up tucking his legs underneath him and taking another long drink of wine. 

    “Well, I-”

    “Have you ever been in love, Eskel?” Ciri turns to him, her bright gaze shocking on even the best days. Now they bore straight through Eskel, and he feels like she is peeling away the layers of mortar he has so carefully laid around his heart for the past, oh, century or so. Eskel thinks back, trying to remember the moment that he knew what love was. 

    And then he tries to figure out how to tell Ciri that he knows what love is like because of her father. Geralt showed him what it was like to feel out of breath whenever they were more than a hairs’ breadth apart. And then the all-encompassing relief that sang through his bones whenever they reunited. They showed each other how to accept this part of their lives that had been so desperately ignored, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. 

    But that’s a lot. Geralt is terrible with words and feelings, and Eskel is not much better. Ciri looks at him expectantly, with all of the air of royalty running low on patience. Ciri is eternally patient though, especially with all of the practice she has had with Geralt. 

    Eskel is just about to open his mouth when he hears stomping down the hallway, and he waits until Lambert pushes open the old door with enough force to send the snow into an avalanche over the mountains. He, now, is soaking wet, though instead of drowner guts he only smells of the clean mineral water that flows into the springs beneath the keep. Eskel smirks up at him as he traipses over to where the two of them sit, dropping himself unceremoniously into one of the soft chairs that rests not far from the fire. “Geralt throw you in?”

    Lambert hums in the affirmative, seemingly harboring no further ill-will towards him. “What are you two chucklefucks talking about?”

    Ciri pipes up, seemingly (for whatever reason) interested in Lambert’s opinion. “I asked Eskel what it feels like to be in love.”

    Lambert’s face looks as though he was just violently slapped with a fish, glancing over to Eskel who only offers a shrug in return. Eskel is expecting a long-winded rant about how ‘Witchers don’t love, it makes you soft, and a soft Witcher is a dead Witcher…’ blah blah blah, but that’s not what he gets. Instead, Lambert kind of sinks further into his seat and his eyes turn tender, and Eskel realizes that he’s getting a glimpse into the Lambert that the world so rarely sees.

    “Wanna know what I think about love, little beetle butt?”

    Ciri nods, turning more fully towards Lambert. Eskel does the same, curious to see what his youngest brother has to say. Eskel holds out his half-empty flask, handing it to Lambert in a silent offer of support. Lambert drains the remainder of the wine in one gulp, the bastard, before he smiles a bit as he loses himself in his thoughts. 

    “I think that love is-” Lambert sighs, searching for the right words, “love is indescribable. You don’t know what it is until you have it, and then you never want to let it go.” 

    Eskel nods at Lambert’s words, letting them resonate in his mind. He never quite feels right anymore without Geralt at his side, his body and soul yearning for their other half in a way that cannot be depicted with mere words. 

    “Ciri, I haven’t got a clue about whatever you’ve got going on,” Lambert wags his finger in the air, and Eskel can see just how influenced the youngest of them was by Vesemir. “But life, especially human life, is too short to dwell on shit that will fester and bubble under your skin if you don’t let it out.”

    “But how do I know?” Ciri whispers, and Eskel’s heart breaks for her. Gods, he has spent decades asking himself that exact same question, and he still doesn’t really have an answer.

    “You’ll know when it’s not a question anymore.” Lambert stares off into the fire, watching the flames lick up into the air, chasing the wayward embers into the dark of the ceiling. Eskel is kind of stuck, Lambert’s words ringing through his head. When it’s not a question anymore. Fuck, when did the little prick actually get smart?

    Ciri rolls over, pressing a gentle kiss to Eskel’s cheek, right over the angriest of his scars. “Thank you, Uncle Eskel. And you, Uncle Lambert,” she gives him a kiss on the cheek as well, and leaves them alone to their thoughts. 

    Eskel looks over at Lambert, seeing in bright relief the decades that have worn this man raw, and wonders just how he can still have room for love in his heart. “Who is it?”

    Lambert sighs, hanging his head a bit. “I met him on the Path. We’ve been...traveling together now for a couple of years. He’s uh-he’s the best man I’ve ever met.”

    Eskel smiles wide once more, scooching closer to where Lambert sits. “I’m happy for you, Wolf. Why haven’t you told us?”

    “He’s another Witcher, and a Cat no less.” Eskel blinks at this, but the way that Lambert looks at him, vulnerable and exposed, shuts up any errant thoughts he may have had. “Besides, like you have room to talk. You’ve been pining after Geralt for how long? A century? Two?”

    Eskel throws his shoe at Lambert, catching him on the shoulder. Fuck, I need to work on my aim. “Shut up. I’m working on it.”

    Lambert scoffs as he stands up, chucking Eskel’s boot back over his shoulder. “Right, well. Once you figure it out, let me know. By that point, I’ll be retired on the coast with a whorehouse next door. You’ll know where to find me.”

    Lambert is almost to the door when Eskel’s arms wrap around him, strong enough to bruise a rib if he wasn’t a Witcher. “Shit, Eskel! Let go of me, you great oaf!”

    Eskel gives one last squeeze before he relents, grabbing Lambert by the arm before he can take off running. “Thank you, Lambert, and I promise. I won’t tell anyone before you’re ready.”

    Lambert glances down to the ground with a great breath in, his golden eyes catching Eskel’s when they return. “Thanks, brother.”

    “Of course, Wolf.”

[yoon-kooks]

Witch Hazel- Pt.5

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: FanficWriter!Jungkook, Idol!Reader, College!AU, Angst, Fluff

Summary: There are two students in your art class with a secret: you and the quiet Jeon Jungkook. You’re a problematic idol singer, infamous for your ice cold reputation and perpetual resting bitch face; he’s the artist and author behind the viral comic series based on a certain ice queen idol. After a blowup of destructive rumors, lost motivation and inevitable solitude, you stumble upon Jungkook’s comic and find a new and unexpected light.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: none

Parts: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // ?

-

“So are you in, Jimin?”

“I’m in,” he chuckles at your little proposal. His laugh retains its charm, even through the phone. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little jealous of that charming quality of his. “But can I ask you something, Snow?”

“Go for it.”

“Why me?”

“To prove a point,” you say. “You also have something to prove, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t have shown up at my concert that night despite being well aware of how the public and media would react.”

“Right… Sorry about that, by the way.” You hear the sorrow still beating him up in his lowered voice. It makes sense that he feels the need to blame himself for all the backlash you received, but he shouldn’t have to feel guilty when all he wanted was a little freedom as a normal human being and not as the perfect idol the world makes him out to be.

“It’s fine, Jimin. We may be glorified idols at the top of the industry, but there are a lot of things we have no control over.”

“True… Sometimes it seems like the only way to escape the judgment of the public eye is to hide behind a mask, huh.” Jimin sighs. “But we can’t always live like that either.”

“Exactly.”

After hanging up, you toss your phone aside and pick up your guitar.

-

On your way to class, you’ve made a habit of checking jk.seagull’s blog for any updates on Witch Hazel, and you’re delighted when you find this new text post:

“it’s not done yet, but I’m planning on posting a new chapter this afternoon after class!”

To celebrate the occasion, you stop by your local coffee shop to pick up a special mocha with extra whipped cream. You’re already late for class after failing to hear your five alarms this morning anyway. And besides, maybe you deserve a little pick-me-up after all the writing you’d done the night before. For once, you feel pretty good about the direction you’re headed in.

Not even a scolding by your professor could ruin your mood.

“Oh, Y/N. How nice of you to join us,” your professor motions for you to take your seat as soon as you step foot into the art room. “I was just talking about how certain students have not been taking this class seriously as of late.”

She glances directly at you, along with your tablemates, Taehyung and Jungkook. “Sorry,” you mouth with a lack of sincerity, before taking a long sip of your mocha.

“And because of that,” the professor continues, “I’ve decided to move up the due date of our portrait project to tomorrow.”

A collective groan fills the room from the entire class, with the exception of those few lucky bastards who’ve already completed their project early. Once the class is dismissed, the scramble to actually get shit done begins. Even Taehyung opts to stick around as opposed to his usual obligations, and that speaks volumes.

As soon as your team relocates to one of the empty art studios nearby, however, it’s apparent that no one is really vibing with this project.

“So… what’s the assignment again?” Taehyung scratches his head. As much as you’d love to scold the boy for his lack of awareness of anything happening in art class, you haven’t been in the proper mindset to give the project any thought either.

“Something about drawing ourselves based on how others perceive us?” Jungkook yawns. “Or was it drawing each other’s portrait?”

“The first one, I think,” you say. “It doesn’t really make a difference when Jungkook’s gonna end up drawing Taehyung’s portion anyway.”

“True,” the boys say together. If there’s one thing you’ve learned from your art class shenanigans, it’s that the more you get to know someone, the easier it is to understand them and their actions—even if they’re completely different from you like Taehyung.

“If that’s the case, let’s hurry up and let each other know how we perceive one another. I have a doubleheader later on that I’d really hate to miss,” Taehyung nods in satisfaction at his clever wording for what you presume to be back-to-back one night stands. “I’ll start: Y/N, there’s not much I know about you besides the fact that you’re unfriendly, but I think that’s intentional. Like you’re hiding a dark secret or something. Jungkook, if you weren’t so shy, I’m sure you’d get laid more often.”

“Let’s not sugarcoat anything,” you roll your eyes. “I would say you, Taehyung, abuse your charm to get what you want. You use sleeping around as an excuse to avoid responsibility. And you embrace it because you fear that that’s the only thing people will ever acknowledge you for.”

“I’m not usually a masochist, but I kind of like it when you roast me like that, Y/N,” Taehyung shrugs it off, though you know you’ve hit the mark. Everyone has a poker face, and Kim Taehyung is no exception. To take the attention off of himself, he throws an arm around his favorite art buddy. “Roast this guy next.”

You glance over at Jungkook who’s in the midst of adding to your roast on Taehyung. It’s interesting to see how differently he acts with Taehyung, with you, and with everyone else. The more he knows someone, the less he withholds. If he knew you more, you wonder what he’d tell you. “I agree that if Jungkook weren’t so shy, there’d be more potential for a lot of things, but-”

Buzz! Taehyung looks down at his phone. “Well, that’s my cue. Jungkook, Y/N, you know what to do~”

“Have fun at your doubleheader,” you wave off your incompetent teammate until he’s out of sight. “Should we be enabling him like this?”

“Probably not. But even I can’t say no to that charm of his.” Jungkook sighs as he pulls out a blank sheet of bristol paper. In what feels like an instant, several dots and lines transform into a general outline of Taehyung’s face. “I’m surprised you haven’t fallen for his charm yet… unless…?”

“Look, I get the appeal of a smoothtalker who walks with confidence, but Taehyung really isn’t my type,” you laugh.

“Still, I’m a little envious of him.” Jungkook draws Taehyung a nice and natural wink. “Because he isn’t afraid to chase after what he wants.”

You want to tell the boy that he should chase after whatever it is he wants, but you know that’s easier said than done. After all, you know exactly how it feels to take that leap of faith, only to fall short before reaching the dream you so desired. So all you can do is nod and start working on your own portrait.

For about five whole minutes, you try to sketch out a decent upside-down egg shape for your head, but it always comes out a little lopsided or rough around the edges. Once you’ve got a little mountain of eraser shaving piling up, you decide it’s time to sneak a peek at Jungkook’s sketch to get an idea of how a well-seasoned artist draws a proper face.

What you see instead, however, is the boy staring back at your mountain of eraser shavings. You swear you hear a little pft come out of his mouth. The nerve.

“Hold your pencil like this,” he says, holding his own pencil with his pinky sticking out.

You replicate his grip, wiggling the pinky. “Is this some sort of weird pinky promise that artists do?”

Before Jungkook can even respond, your pinky is already linked to his. Funny how his finger curled around yours as if it were the most normal thing to do, but his burning cheeks say otherwise. You might’ve jumped the gun on this one.

After blinking at the empty pinky promise for a good three seconds, the boy finally lets go. “Use that pinky to steady your hand as you sketch.”

“Oh… right…” You feel a wildfire spreading across your own cheeks. Your dumbass somehow misinterpreted a drawing technique for something as childish as a pinky promise! Whether it’s because you’re flustered or just shitty at art, you fumble around to get your pencil on the paper. “…How do I do it again?”

Rather than trying to explain or demonstrate it to you, Jungkook motions for you to come closer. So you do. He takes your hand and individually sets each finger onto your pencil like a guitar teacher helping their student find the right chord position.

You’re pleasantly surprised by how gentle his touch is. Rather than forcing your fingers to conform to the conventional ways of an artist, he gives them the little push they need to find their own place along the length of the pencil—wherever is most comfortable for you.

Once you’ve got a good grip, Jungkook guides your pencil back to the canvas with your pinky just barely touching the drawing surface. “Now try drawing the outline of your face again.”

You do as you’re told and see immediate results. Although it’s not a perfect egg, your lines are noticeably smoother as if your skin had just been cleared. Jungkook gives you and your improved egg a thumbs-up, which you return with a thumbs-up of your own.

As you both resume your portraits, you can’t help but wonder if it was the tiny adjustment of how you held your pencil that made the difference. Or if it was Jeon Jungkook himself. You suppose only time will tell.

Several hours later, Jungkook has finished Taehyung’s portrait, you still need to color yours in, and an announcement goes off through the intercom.

“Due to the art auction charity event tonight, this building will be closing in ten minutes. Thank you.”

You groan. This is the worst case scenario for your damn group project. Because if you’re kicked out of the studio, you won’t have access to all of the necessary art supplies.

Unless…?

You exchange glances with the most devoted artist you know.

-

Jungkook’s apartment is not exactly how you imagined a weeby Snow stan’s habitat to look. There’s not a trace of Snow, nor is there a hint of magic anime girls floating around. But the one thing you did correctly predict is the amount of art scattered across the boy’s room.

Everywhere you look, you’re blown away by something different from the last. A painted city landscape detailed enough to be mistaken for an actual photo, a busy abstract pattern that makes the little wheels in your head spin, the familiar animation booklet of the flower in the snow, and an interesting little doodle that doesn't seem to scream “college art project”.

You try to make sense of what appears to be the chaos that ensues when the worlds of mathematics and music collide. Half of the basic times tables chart is replaced with values represented by music notes. The math nerd in you laughs when you see that a sixteenth note is correctly placed where two quarter notes align. Similarly, the music sheet on the other side of the doodle has a time signature of “75%” aka ¾ time aka the rhythm of a waltz.

“How old were you when you drew this one?” You point to the artwork titled Math Musician written in tiny font at the bottom corner next to the boy’s initials.

Jungkook chuckles, probably out of embarrassment. “I think I was ten.”

“Imagine being a talented artist at age ten. Can’t relate,” you clown yourself as you pull out your unfinished portrait from your art bag. In addition to looking “unfriendly”, your drawn face is rather lifeless and more so demonic for some reason. Hopefully some color will bring more dimension and life back into your flesh.

Just then, you realize you’ve made a fatal mistake.

“Umm, Jungkook?” you continue to stare down at your mistake. “I forgot to factor in your opinion of me into my portrait and now I just look unfriendly like Taehyung said.”

Jungkook tilts his head to get a better look at your monstrosity. His reaction could go one of three ways: he could laugh and give you a hard time about it, he could help you find a solution, or he could do both.

“You definitely nailed the ‘unfriendly’ part,” he snickers. “The RBF is strong with this one.”

“So you agree that I’m unfriendly?” On one hand, that would be good because you won’t have to revise your portrait if Jungkook shares the same opinion as Taehyung. On the other hand, you don’t want Jungkook to have that opinion of you.

“Not necessarily,” he says. “I think if people looked beyond your unfriendly demeanor, they’d find someone very different.”

Before you can ask the boy to elaborate, he has already left and come back with the solution to your problem: fancy coloring markers.

“Since you already drew your appearance based on Taehyung’s opinion, you can color it in based on my opinion, if that makes it easier.” Jungkook hands you an assortment of markers, though a large portion of them are just different shades of one color in particular. Yellow.

Yellow was the last color you were expecting. You expected cooler and darker tones like blues or greys to match your ice queen personality. But yellow? Yellow, to you, has always meant bright and happy.

“Yellow is a happy color, isn’t it?” You start swatching each shade of yellow to see how they translate onto a white canvas. Your favorite shade out of the bunch is the soft pale one called Banana Milk, but that still doesn’t mean it suits you. To prove your point, you hold up your unfriendly demon portrait to your actual face and pout. “Do either of these faces look happy to you, Jungkook?”

“No, but they do look silly.” The boy cracks a smile at your humor. “In a good way.” The way he smiles so brightly plants a dangerous little seed in your head. Maybe the yellow is meant to represent not how he perceives your feelings, but rather, how he perceives his own feelings for you.

-

By the time evening comes, you’ve shaded in every inch of your canvas, completing your portion of the portrait project. You were right—the bright colors really did help bring life back into your face, and there’s less of a demonic aura about it now.

It also looks like one big contradiction: an unfriendly-looking face with a cheerful brightness around it. But that’s probably what Jungkook was referring to when he said you were very different beneath your unfriendly mask.

As you stretch out your arms and yawn, you peek over at the boy’s progress with his portrait. He stares down at his markers scattered across the floor, pushing his long locks out of his eyes, in search of his next color. From the small portion that he has colored so far, you notice a big difference between his portrait and yours. While your color scheme is bright and flashy like a star, Jungkook’s is soft and subtle to mimic his shy and lowkey personality.

“Use this,” you toss him the Banana Milk marker and pull a scrunchie off your wrist, “and this too.”

Jungkook places the pale yellow marker down right on the area he’ll color next. He doesn’t, however, know what to do with the foreign hair accessory in his palm. He just blinks at it.

With a dramatic sigh, you join the boy on the floor and take back the scrunchie. Like a puppy with long bangs poking its eyes, he lets you comb your fingers through his hair before tying a tiny sprout on top of his head.

“So this is what the world looks like,” he nods, as if his long hair had greatly hindered his view of the world in front of him. At the same time, he spots the finished product of your portrait. “Your self-portrait is a lot different from how I would draw you.”

“I would’ve appreciated a compliment for my hard work, but go ahead and insult me, Jeon.” You square up.

“Oh sorry. You did a phenomenal job, Y/N.” He doesn’t even try to put effort into masking his sarcasm as pity praise. But that’s expected in how he hasn’t missed a single opportunity to tease you and your shitty art. “It’s just interesting how differently others interpret us from how we interpret ourselves.”

Now you’re curious. “How would you draw me then?”

“You want to see?” Jungkook pushes his own portrait aside and starts digging around for a sketchbook with a blank page to spare. What possesses him to prioritize a drawing of you before his own portrait that’s due in less than 24 hours? You won’t allow that.

“I want to see it after our project is finished, please,” you pull his unfinished portrait back in front of him before making yourself comfy on the boy’s bed. “In the meantime, I’ll be reading you-know-what.”

“Smut?” The boy has a dirty mind, it seems.

“Unless Witch Hazel plans on getting a little smutty, no, I will not be reading smut.” With a hmph, you scroll through jk.seagull’s blog. “I wonder if the new chapter is posted yet.”

Jungkook, too, picks up his phone with wide eyes when he hears you say “new chapter”. Your hype and excitement around the fanfic must be rubbing off on him.

But unfortunately for you, there is no new post since the one you saw before class. You make a sad booboo face, but it isn’t the end of the world either. You’ll just have to reread the series from the beginning as you wait for either Witch Hazel to be updated or Jungkook to finish the project. Whichever happens first.

“Wait, I think the seagull guy just posted something.”

You’ve never jumped onto your phone so quick when Jungkook mentions the seagull guy. It isn’t a new chapter of Witch Hazel, but instead another small text post.

“sorry for not updating witch hazel today like i said i would!! i was bombarded with an unexpected art assignment;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;”

Your sad booboo face disappears. It seems you’re not the only one struggling to find balance between the arts and the need to satisfy others. “Isn’t it funny that he’s an art student too?”

“Haha, yeah…” Jungkook’s voice fades as he returns to his portrait.

“Maybe that’s why I like his work so much,” you say, clicking back to the very first chapter of Witch Hazel where Snow is helping out those who she had unintentionally scared away with her witchcraft. “He just gets it.”

“He gets what?”

With the biggest yawn, you shrug because you don’t really know how to put it into words. It just feels as though you and him think alike. And the thought of that is comforting enough to put you to rest until Jungkook finishes up the project.

“Y/N.” You hear things shuffling around in your half-asleep state. When you rise from mysterious pile of blankets on top of you, you see Jungkook putting his art supplies away and clearing space on the floor for him to camp out since you’ve apparently claimed his bed.

“Did you finish?” You check the time in the dimly lit room, and you’re shocked to see it’s past midnight.

“Yeah.” He pulls your scrunchie out of his hair and drops it into your palm. “Thank you for your service.”

“Keep it.” You slide the hair tie onto the boy’s wrist when you notice he looks a little different somehow. The hoodie he was wearing earlier is replaced with a plain white tee, and his torn jeans have become grey sweatpants. The unspoken reality of you stay over at the boy’s apartment is slowly becoming realized. “In exchange, I’d like to see how you’d draw me.”

“Already done,” he says, jogging to his desk and back to you with a page from his sketchbook in hand. “I drew you as a superhero.”

“What kind of superhero?” You kick the blankets off of you and reach for the drawing, but of fucking course, Jungkook pulls it back real quick just when you were about to snatch it. “Let me see!”

He keeps it hidden behind his back for a while until he gets a little too cocky and dangles it above where you’re sitting on the bed. It would be too predictable for you to reach for the hand with drawing in it, so you decide to aim for the other arm to trap him in.

But rather than latching onto his arm, you catch only a piece of the scrunchie around his wrist, causing you both to lose balance. Your back hits the soft bedding as you stare up into the eyes of the boy who just so happened to land on top of you. Aha, you finally figure out why he looked a little different after you woke up. No glasses, just his handsome brown eyes.

You’d give yourself a pat on the back for figuring that out if you weren’t distracted by the drawing of you as a “superhero”. You were expecting something tough like the Avengers or Sailor Moon or even Izuku Midoriya. But instead you see someone who looks very much like yourself with a guitar and yellow flower crown.

“That’s not a superhero,” you say quietly.

“There are people who would feel otherwise.” Jungkook plops down next to you on his stomach.

“Like who?”

“Like people you share your music with.”

You bite your lip before rolling off the bed to run and get something. When you hop back onto the bed, you drop a pencil into Jungkook’s hand make him hold it with his pinky out like he had shown you earlier. You do the same with another pencil and link your pinky to his once more.

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

[kindofcashton]

𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕  •  chapter 4  (Calum Hood AU)

I WORKED THE very next day, and to say Mack threw me right into the thick of things would be a massive understatement.  Roger was working again, and Mack tasked him with teaching me how to make the most basic of coffees before setting me loose.  They really were swamped; the morning rush lasted well into lunchtime.  I knew how to use a cash register fairly well, so for a while Roger and I divided the duties.  Once things died down for a brief period, he showed me the more complex drinks, each one more confusing than the next.

“You’ll get it,” he told me encouragingly when I’d added too much foam to an espresso.  I put my hands on my hips and blew out a sigh.

“I’ve always been told I brew some killer coffee,” I explained.  “This should be natural.”

Roger chuckled, swiping a rag through some mugs.  I liked him; he was easy-going even under pressure, but knew when to be firm with the difficult customers.  He said that all their best baristas had quit recently to go back to school, and that Mack was left swamped.  

“You’re not in school?” I asked, getting someone’s chai latte ready.  This was one drink I was fairly good at concocting.

He scoffed.  “Are you kidding?  I could never do that college shit.�� I’d much rather work at a place like this and do my art on the side.”  Roger did art commissions for people that were actually pretty amazing; he was like Picasso with spray paint.  I admired his confidence in his work, even though any parent would be terrified if their kid wanted to be a freelance artist.  But Roger believed in his talent, and didn’t let anyone convince him otherwise.

There were only two people left in the shop and they’d both been served, so Roger decided to take a quick break.  He said it would be my first “test run” to see how well I did on my own.  I rolled my eyes at his mock salute, but inside I was a nervous wreck.  I wanted to do well--no, needed to.  I needed something to go right for me.

Five minutes passed with no new customers, and I smiled at the thought of not serving anyone while Roger was gone.  Unfortunately, my prayers weren’t answered as the little bell tingled, signaling someone’s arrival.

A tall, chestnut-haired guy approached the register, rubbing the slight stubble on his chin as he examined the chalkboard menu above my head.  I fought the flush that wanted to rise to my cheeks; he was cute, with dark jeans and a casual blazer that probably meant he had a complex coffee order ready to go.

He sent me a shining smile.  “Hey, could I get a cappuccino?”

I huffed, and his expression turned quizzical.  “Sorry,” I answered quickly.  “This is my first day, and the last cappuccino I made...wasn’t great.”

“Should I order something else?  How ‘bout a french roast with cream?”  I appreciated his sense of humor at my inexperience.

I narrowed my eyes playfully.  “Oh no, I’m gonna make you that cappuccino.  Whether it will be edible is still up in the air.”

He laughed, and I noted the way his hazel eyes crinkled when he did this.  

“Can I have a name for the order?”

“Jeremy.”

“Jeremy,” I repeated, and he grinned before taking a seat at the window bar.  Inhaling deeply, I turned to start making the cappuccino.  Espresso, steamed milk, foam.  How hard could it be?

Harder than I thought, apparently.  The drink I ended up concocting was way too milky and overflowing with foam.  I felt my face redden as I presented it to Jeremy, who examined it carefully.

“I know, it’s terrible.  But I did warn you.”

He went to pick up the mug, the crinkles by his eyes returning.  “Are you kidding?  This is absolutely exceptional.  I think I’ll have to come back tomorrow if you keep up this fine work.”

My face hurt from smiling so wide.  “Well, I’ll be here, probably burning some coffee beans or spilling milk.”

I was disappointed to see Jeremy leave once he’d finished his coffee, and Roger materialized behind me when the front door finally shut.

“How do you already have cute guys hitting on you?  And I got a glimpse of that cappuccino, it was awful.”

“He must have had to choke it down,” I joked, giddy at the thought of seeing Jeremy again.  “

Roger rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, I’m guessing it wasn’t that hard to pretend to like it.  Cute baristas have that effect; you’re great for business, you know.”

I pushed his arm playfully, and Roger flipped me off.  

My first day and I already loved this new job.  The rest of my shift took up the majority of the day, until the sun had started to sink below the horizon.  I hung up my apron on the hook in the back room and said goodbye to Mack before walking out into the cool city air.

The grin on my face refused to cease throughout the whole bus ride back home, and I practically sprinted to the house.  Maybe things were finally looking up for me.  If I channeled all of my energy into work and school my life might finally get back on track, the way it was meant to be.

I wanted to burst right through the front door, but even before I reached the porch I could hear yelling from inside.  Muffled shouts were coming from the kitchen, and as I slowly stepped into the foyer the voices became clearer.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”  This was Ashton, and his voice was raised in obvious frustration.

“I was thinking about myself and what was best for me.  College was way fucking harder than I thought it would be.”  My blood ran cold at Hannah’s response.  What did Ashton find out?  Who told him about Hannah’s secret, and did he know about mine?

Quickly joining them in the kitchen, I noticed Luke and Michael in the living room, looking like they wanted to melt into the sofa.  I sent them a confused glance, and the subtle shake of Luke’s head told me how serious this was.

Upon seeing me, Ashton turned his attention away from Hannah, scowl deepening.  “Did you know about this?”

I swallowed roughly, trying to read the message behind Hannah’s pleading eyes.  “Um, know about what?”  It was a stupid attempt at a bluff, and Ashton saw right through it.

“That Hannah isn’t home from school on a break, she’s home permanently.”

My mouth opened slightly in an attempt to respond, but Ashton cut me off.

“I mean, why would you leave a university like that?  With everything you could have achieved there?”

This caused my brow to furrow.  So he thought she left on her own, when in reality she was kicked out.  I slid my gaze over to Hannah’s, and she communicated through a silent expression of desperation.

Don’t say anything, she seemed to be begging.  Go with it.

I gave the smallest, most imperceptible I could.  It was Hannah’s secret to reveal, and I wasn’t going to drive a deeper wedge between her and Ashton.

All of a sudden I felt someone come up behind me, and knew without looking it was Calum.  I glanced over, and his dark eyes met mine briefly.  He was much closer than I thought he needed to be, his chest practically touching my shoulder.  Biting my lip, I faced forward again and tried to ignore his soft exhales on my neck.

Pressing a hand to her forehead, Hannah said in a clipped tone, “Ashton, with all due fucking respect, you never went to college.  You have no idea what it’s like, so I don’t understand why you think you get an opinion.”

Ashton looked ready to punch a hole through the drywall.  “For fuck’s sake, Hannah, because I care about you!  College was supposed to help your future, so what the hell are you supposed to do now?”

This silenced her.  I felt so bad for Hannah; knowing it was all her fault, that she failed so abysmally in her classes and was forced to come home.  She was smart, just not in the typical bookish sense that a university demanded.  I wished I could give her some of mine, because I certainly couldn’t use it right now.

Inhaling shakily, she bawled her fists.  “Ashton.”  Her voice was so weak I thought she was about to cry.  “My future is going to be just fine without you freaking out over it, okay?”

Ashton scoffed, hands on his hips and eyes blazing.  I prayed he just let go of his anger at being lied to, and went over to comfort Hannah.  Yes, she was still lying to him now, which would certainly blow up later, but she needed support.  

My prayers were answered when Ashton let out a defeated exhale and wrapped his arms around Hannah’s smaller frame.  The two of them practically dissolved into each other, breathing together as one.

After a minute they separated, and Ashton cleared his throat.  “We’re gonna go back to my place, spend the night.”

Michael and Luke just nodded, and Calum walked out from behind me to join them in the living room.  As Hannah passed by me, she grabbed my hand and gave it a quick squeeze.  “Thank you,” she murmured.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to process everything.  I felt Calum’s eyes on me, and instantly my heart stopped.  He’d seen Hannah say something, which meant he knew our answers were bullshit.

I felt trapped by his deep brown gaze, completely immobile and at his disposal.  The cogs in his brain were so clearly turning, and I was terrified he would say something.

But then the moment ended, and he looked away, releasing me from his clutches.  

After getting myself a glass of water and grabbing my school bag I collapsed onto a chair at the kitchen table.  Michael grabbed a soda from the fridge and leaned against the stainless steel door.

“Crazy,” he commented, head shaking in disbelief.

“It was like my parents were arguing,” Luke said, shuddering.  “But those two could get through anything, seriously.”

Calum remained quiet, of course, but his expression was thoughtful as ever.

“Hey, how’d your first day go?" Luke asked.  “Did you show them your killer coffee skills?”

I chuckled, flipping a pencil between my fingers to relieve some of my pent up anxiety.  “Turns out my skills are less than killer.  I can brew some great black coffee, but no one really orders that.  I think it’ll be really good, though.  The people are great, and the customers were actually nice.”  My thoughts drifted to Jeremy, and a small smile danced across my lips.  “I have an early shift tomorrow though, 7am.”

“Rough,” Michael replied.  “Godspeed, I won’t be awake till noon.”

I chuckled, and was surprised when Calum finally spoke up.  “The customers are nice until you screw up someone’s triple shot macchiato and they flip their shit on you.”

I bit my lip, dreading that scenario.  “I’ll, uh, try to avoid that.”

Calum nodded, and with that he disappeared from the kitchen.

Pulling books out of my bag, started mentally organizing the work I had to do.  Luke and Michael went off to bed, Michael opting for the futon downstairs since Ashton and Hannah had left.

I was alone in the kitchen, trying desperately to focus on the study of neurological activity in the sleeping brain, but I just couldn’t get my mind off of Hannah.  We were both lying to everyone we cared about, and sooner or later the truth would come out.  I wasn’t prepared to face the music about my parents, though, and the last thing I wanted was people finding out I was destitute.  If I could just hold on a little longer, work for a while and keep studying, everything would be fine.

The hardest part would be putting up with Calum.  He was so cold and brooding, and clearly had no respect for personal space as I learned tonight by how close he stood to me.  I could still feel the tickle of his breath on my neck, and raised a hand to gently rub the skin.

- - - - -

I had no idea I’d fallen asleep at the table until someone was shaking me awake.  My eyes blinked open, blurry from sleep and disorientation.  It was still dark out, and I wondered who would be up at this hour.

“What’s happening?” I asked, my voice gravelly.  I rubbed my eyes and made out Calum’s figure standing next to me, arms folded with a frown.

“Would you rather I let you sleep through your shift?  It’s 5:30, and I know you’ve got a bus to catch.  And, you know, take like an hour just getting ready.”  Before I could process what he said he turned away from me to fiddle with something in the cupboard.

I was slightly shocked.  Calum remembered when my shift was?  And cared enough to wake me up?  I had no idea what to make of this, and was too tired to work it through.

“Thanks.”  I yawned and began to load my books back into my bag, moving slowly as my body was weighed down with exhaustion.

“I think the point is to read the books, not use them as pillows,” Calum criticized.

Scowling at his attitude, I ripped the zipper a little harshly, causing him to actually look over.  

“I was reading them,” I rebutted.  “I just...got tired I guess.”

“Aren’t college kids supposed to be responsible and organized?”

“Are you saying I’m not?”

He crossed his arms, body language defensive.  “I’m just saying, you’re the one who fell asleep and almost missed your shift.  I’d say that’s pretty irresponsible.”

Sighing loudly, I rubbed my temples to try and banish the slight ache in my brain.  “It is way too early for this stupid argument,” I muttered.

“We’re not arguing, I’m just telling you.” 

“Yeah, well, thanks for telling me I’m disorganized and irresponsible.  Got anything else to say, or can I get ready for work now?”

I stood up and started towards the stairs, glaring his way.  Calum just shrugged, smug expression painted across his stupid face. 

“Nope, wouldn’t want to make you late.”  I was tempted to slap the sardonic smirk right off his face, but opted instead to leave him alone in the kitchen.

I took a quick shower and made myself look presentable as possible, changing into work clothes and grabbing my bag before quickly escaping out the front door.  I didn’t feel like running into Calum again after his wonderful wake up call.

Work was busy in the beginning, and Roger and I struggled to keep up for a while.  But our rhythm from yesterday finally kicked in, and with each drink I served I felt more and more confident.  When the rush ended, the two of us high-fived and let out triumphant exhales of relief.

“You know, Scarlett, you and I make a good team.”

I grinned at Roger, overjoyed at how quickly I was picking up new skills.  I just hoped Mack was impressed enough to give me the job in two weeks.

Before I could answer him, the bell jingled.  I recognized Jeremy’s chestnut hair immediately, and suppressed a squeal of excitement.  Just what I need, I thought giddily.

When Jeremy approached the counter I made sure to look calm and collected.  He smiled that winning smile, and I felt my knees go weak.

“Told you I’d be back,” he said.

“What can I mess up for you today?  A latte maybe?  I’m getting good at screwing those up,” I informed him with a laugh, and I was glad to see the crinkles by his eyes return.

“Actually,” he began, making my heart somersault with worry.  “I’m not here for coffee.  I’m here for you.”

My eyebrows shot up, and I hoped my face didn’t betray my secret exhilaration.

“Really?” I responded, pressing my lips together.  “And why is that?”

“Normally, I take girls out to places like this on a first date,” he said, and I was hanging on to every word.  “But seeing as you’re probably sick of it, how ‘bout we skip that part and go straight to dinner?”

My face broke into a wide smile, and I was almost too excited to reply.  “That’s really considerate of you,” I joked.  “Dinner sounds amazing.”

Jeremy actually looked relieved, like he was nervous I’d say no.  As if anyone could say no to that face.

“Great, that’s great.  How about tonight?  I’ll pick you up at 8.”

“Sure, give me your phone and I’ll add my number.”  He passed it over, and I fought to keep my fingers steady.  Handing it back, we smiled at each other like idiots.

“See you tonight, Scarlett,” he said, and I watched him disappear out of the cafe all the way down the street.

I turned to see Roger gaping at me like I had three heads.

“What?”

“How come no one hits on me like that?” he pouted.  

I tapped my cheek in contemplation.  “Maybe it’s those spike earrings?  They’re wildly intimidating.”

Roger snorted, and waved his hand at me dismissively.  “Oh shut up.  You’re about to bounce of the walls you’re so happy.”

“Hell yeah I am.”

[sebastianshaw]

@sammysdewysensitiveeyes - I felt bad you weren’t getting a lot of Pyro content in canon, so I wrote you some!

The next member of their team was meant to be arriving today. She was going to be a...most unusual addition. She was human. Pyro didn’t like it. The entire POINT of Krakoa was to keep away from humans who would hurt them. And sure this human allegedly very much did NOT want that, it was why Xavier handpicked her to be involved, and Xavier could vet a person inside and out...but Pyro couldn’t help WORRYING. Maybe she wasn’t a conscious plant, but what if someone was using her without her knowing? How was Xavier checking for THAT? Maybe the rest of Krakoa was happy to put their fate in the hands of men like him and Magneto and Sebastian Shaw, but Pyro was of the firm opinion that the guys on top never really had the best interest of the bottom at heart. But that didn’t mean he’d pass up a chance to roast some Verendi pigs, which was what had just been provided---the ship of their new ally had been attacked en route, big surprise, and thus the current crew of the Marauder---Sebastian, Shinobi, and Pyro---had been deployed to intervene. Shinobi kept their own boat safe while Pyro and Sebastian boarded the other---just in time to witness one of the Verendi hurling a sari-clad woman off the deck by her throat. “Allerdyce, take care of the rest,” said Shaw, tearing his shirt and jacket off with his bear---er, bare---hands. Not taking it off, literally TEARING. “Are you kidding?!” Pyro asked, shocked both at Shaw’s apparent intentions and at how beefed up the old bastard was under those tailored suits. Like he had eyes, he could tell the guy was huge, but JEEZUS. “I’m not having my team fail this early,” Shaw said, “And besides--” The rest came out mid-air as he dove into the drink, “--you’re hardly in swimming shape.” Secretly hoping he ‘teammate’ drowned, Pyro returned to the fray, gleefully keeping the Verendi at bay with his flames. That was the easy part. The hard part was not blowing them up in their stupid suits, or boiling them alive, or--- “ALLERDYCE!” he heard the oh-so-charming shout of his new ‘boss’ barking for him, just as the fun was over. “What, did you--” Pyro started to ask as he hustled over, admittedly not as fast as he could have. “Do the damn chest compressions!” Shaw cut him off. The woman, soaking wet and unconscious--or worse--was laid out on the deck. “Why--” “Because at my current strength I will pulverize her bones!” Shaw bellowed. Pyro didn’t like taking orders from Shaw, but he wasn’t about to let this lady die right in front of him either if half of what he’d heard about her was true, no matter what his misgivings might be about involving her in the Marauders. So he duly obeyed with the compressions, as well as mouth to mouth just so Shaw couldn’t. Because f this woman was an ally to mutantkind she deserved better than that. It worked. She gasped, her body jolting. “Alright, there she is” said Shaw, “You keep her conscious, Allerdyce---someone has to steer this ship.” With that, he departed to find the helm and radio Shinobi to let him know all was well, and knock out any remaining hostiles. Pyro glared at his back as he went, but then quickly turned his attention back to the semi-conscious woman, who was moving slightly now, her eyes glazed. She said something unsteadily in a foreign language. Well, in a language that wasn’t English; Pyro had been a foreigner in Southeast Asia and learned it really a matter of perspective. Speaking of that... “That Gujarati, love?” he asked gently. He couldn’t speak it nor understand it, but he thought he recognized it. He’d never got as far as India in his travels as a journalist, but he’d encountered this language in Singapore, Indonesia, and Malayasia. Sounded a bit different from her though, maybe because she was from India directly. Or just because she was terribly waterlogged. She mumbled something else weakly in the same tongue, putting one of her hands to her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak it,” he said, truly apologetic. The was woman silent for a moment, and her eyes closed. Oh no. Had he lost her? God, Shaw was never going to let him hear the end of it! Then she opened them, and said, “I apologize, I do speak English, I just...needed a moment.” “Take two, you earned ‘em,” Pyro smiled relieved. She began sitting up slowly, and Pyro helped her. “I...assume you saved me?” “Well, I helped,” he said, then amended, “Someone else go you out from the drink but I did the rest, getting you breathing again and all.” “Thank you, so much, I really have no idea what to say,” she sounded rather awed. Oh man, he’d forgotten what it was like to be a superhero! He’d never much cared for that life in general, the idea of just DOING things for people for nothing in return, especially people who HATED you for EXISTING as a mutant, but there had been a few times in Freedom Force like this where he felt really GOOD when people were actually grateful. “Aw it’s---it’s nothing, all in a day’s work really,” he said, puffing his chest as best he could, which was nigh-imperceptible given how skinny he was. “You have my deepest gratitude all the same. You also have a good ear---that was indeed Parsi Gujarati. “Ohhh!” Pyro was pleased he’d been right, “Is that why it sounded a bit off from what I heard ‘round Jakarta?” “You do indeed have a good ear! Yes, it’s very distinct. For instance, we use much softer consonants-- They were interrupted by Shaw’s sardonic tone over the intercom, “ I can see our guest is conscious, Mr. Allerdyce, so if you’re quite done flirting, send her to the helm for briefing before we get to the portal. At your leisure, of course.” Pyro did not say ass aloud but it was very, very much written on his face. *** Pyro was waking up waaay to early at Blackstone, specifically in Shinobi’s ridiculously oversized bed, Shinobi himself beside him. Pyro could tell his companion was going to be out cold for a long time yet, and probably wish he’d slept longer when he did wake up. Pyro would have preferred to just stay in bed himself, but nature called. And after a good long piss into the en suite bathroom---kind of surprised that the toilet wasn’t solid gold, although it did have more features than Shinobi’s phone---Pyro himself had yet to adjust to fancy celluars---found himself restless, and undergoing his typical post-drinking cravings for something salty. Kind of weird since wasn’t booze supposed to dehydrate you, but whatever, old man Shaw surely had some kind of super-fancy dried unicorn meat from a lost continent or whatever hanging around somewhere. He just needed to find it. But the place was a maze. Gilded maze, he made a mental note of that for one of his novels as he wandered the huge halls, intending to use it in the internal monologue of the heroine lost in the Marquis’s opulent mansion that nonetheless held an overbearing evil in its walls as potent and palpable in the air as that in his black heart. Actually shit, some of the decor in this place would make for great--- “Wider than a highway, huh?” Pyro had been so lost in cataloguing the fancy bric-a-brac along the way that he’d not noticed it had been joined by a flesh and blood person. Well, maybe flesh and blood, they looked silver. Certainly all the skin he could see was, which was a lot given their short little black robe, though he in his boxers certainly wasn’t about to be scandalized. Wait, silver skin? “Mindmeld, right?” “Shinobi tell you about me?” she was smirking a little. “Yeah, something like that,” he replied. It was suddenly really hard not to say something rude, given WHAT Shinobi had told him, but reminded himself if this woman was fucking Shaw, she deserved PITY more than anything. Plus it wouldn’t do to piss off her off before she told him where she got that coffee cup in her hand. “He didn’t tell me where to find the kitchen though.” “Which one?” Oh god of course there’d be more than one, Shaw probably didn’t want his food prepared in the same area as Shinobi’s guests since they were all people like Pyro. He groaned, lowering his head and burying his long bony fingers in his dandelion puff blond curls, “Just whichever one has some eggs and espresso.” “Come on,” she gestured lightly and turned, leading the way. Damn tall drink of water, might have been taller than Shaw, though far less broad than he was, but more so than Pyro...admittedly, that range probably covered almost everyone on the planet. She didn’t ask his name, so he offered his with some pride, “I’m Pyro, I’m one of the Marauders.” “Neat.” “‘Spect Mr. Shaw has a few things to say about me.” She looked mildly thoughtful a moment, “Uh...no, never mentioned you. I think I’ve heard the Marauders, but not Pyro.” “How about Mr. Allerdyce?” “Definitely not.” Ok, he was kind of insulted now, not by Mindmeld but he took it out on her anyway with a snippy, “Well he hasn’t mentioned you either.” She just gave him a funny look.” “Sorry,” he said abashed at how stupid and spiteful he sounded, “We just don’t get on too well, me and Sebastian.” “What a surprise.” “So you know he’s a pompous asshole.” “Oh yeah, it’s hilarious,” she said, “Like the other day,  these two like, total Eurotrash blonds come in, and he told them they were living proof of how inbreeding ruined the royal Austrian family tree or something, I don’t know, and I just told the guy he shouldn’t wear black if he’s not going to clean the semen stains off it first. The girl, her outfit was great, but nothing I could say was going to be worse than that Basic Bitch haircut.” “So what, you two just hang around talking shit about everyone else like we’re dirt on your shoes?!” Any regret he had about being snippy was suddenly gone. “Yeah, pretty much,” she said, her blase tone not changing. He started to say something else but she turned her head to him and said, tone still the same, “Look, if you’re gonna get precious, I can leave you right here. Next person to find you will probably be him, you know. He’s always up crazy early.” It was a potent threat. Normally Pyro was not afraid at all to deal with that hirsute egomaniac, but in his current state, he was not fit for the battle of barbs. “No, no, lead the way,” he sighed. “Cool,” Mindmeld turned her gaze front again and added, “Sorry you’re mad I’m his dick puppet.” If Pyro had a liquid in his mouth he would have spit it out. He must have made some kind of sound, because she asked, “What, Shinobi not mention that?” “He uh...he mentioned it a lot, yeah. “Good,” she smiled at him, and turned away. Weird. They got to small kitchen, very normal looking. So much so that it felt almost surreally out of place. “Drip’s over there,” Mindmeld pointed. Okay, nice, Shaw had a proper espresso machine. No surprise, he probably kept a full roasting machine and French press and other fancy barista shit in HIS kitchen---he was obviously not using THIS one. While he put on the drip, Mindmeld sat down and started playing idly with a phone left on table, obviously hers. Pyro was sure the bowl of Lucky Charms next to it surely wasn’t Sebastian Shaw’s. “You uh, live here?” “Yeah basically,” she did not look up from her phone, “Beats public housing.” Pyro realized he hadn’t thought about how everyone on Krakoa was living; he’d been basically on a boat the whole time himself. “What, is it bad?” he asked, imagining the crowded slums he’d seen in some of his travels, as well as the crappier apartments he’d stayed in, which was most. “Nah, but this is better.” “Yeah well, the rent seems high to me.” “You just have a different landlord.” “Hey, I’m nobody’s kept--” The espresso shot was ready, and it going off gave him a moment to cool down again. “Sorry, there’s nothing wrong with...with you,” he said, after taking his cup and sitting down across from her, “I just feel bad for Shinobi, he says you two used to be..” . “Together? Kinda, yeah. He tell you the part where he left me to die? or before that, where I was stuck in somebody else’s body and he was still ready to put the guy through a depowering machine while I was inside him?” “I, uh...no.” Was there some kind of mistake? He’d thought Shinobi was harmless. He knew the guy was selfish and spoiled, but it was hard to imagine him that cold. “Yeah, I bet not,” she said, her tone still the same, “He doesn’t seem like he has it in him, does he?” “Uh...no.” “Well, even a rat will bite if it’s back is against the wall,” her eyes rose from her phone and met his intensely, “So if you’re in deep shit, don’t count on him to pull you out.” They went back to her phone,  “He’s beautiful though so, you know, keep doing what you’re doing, I’m not judging.” “Uh...” Pyro had no idea what to say to this, “So is that why...” He had thought it had been money, since anything Shinobi had was actually coming from Sebastian, but now he wondered if it was for... “Vengeance? Pyro nodded. “Could you think of a BETTER way?” Pyro admitted he could not. “You must be pretty dedicated,” he said, still not able to get the ‘ick’ feeling quite out. It wasn’t the idea of sex for benefits his skin was crawling at, it was sex with SHAW. He supposed he could see the physical appeal if that man wasn’t so personally repulsive, but... “I mean, I just came back to life like this month” she shrugged idly, “I’ve got nothing from before to go back to, I’ve got nothing else going on.” “I don’t know, you look like you got it going on to me,” Pyro gave an exaggerated wink. That made her snort-laugh. Okay, he felt they were good now. And he felt suddenly a lot warmer to her. Not from knowing she had better reasons than he thought---the reasons unsettled him actually---but because of how similar their situations were. A situation doubtless shared by many Krakoans but he hadn’t had a real chance yet to talk to many Krakoans. He had planned to spend today fixing that actually, going and finding out if what few friends he’d had in his life before were here now. Like Dom. Wondered if Mindmeld had any, a Dom or a Mort or a Fred. Kinda doubted it, somehow. “Hey, uh, listen,” he began. She looked up from her phone. “Do you wanna go...check out the island with me? I been at sea since I came back, I don’t know what’s on it, but there’s got to be SOMETHING people been doing all day for fun, right?” She regarded him a long moment. “Yeah,” she finally said, “I’d like that."

[pug-bitch]

That’s not why I’m staying (4)

Messes, and a small fire

Book: The Royal Romance, Book 2

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive, and a VERY steamy scene, right at the beginning (I guess I now start every chapter with some people getting it on :D). This is absolutely NOT appropriate for people under 18.

Word count: about 3,700 (Sorry for the absence of a Keep Reading option - I’m on mobile!)

Notes: This picks up where we left off, during Liv and Rashad’s date (pre-boeuf bourguignon), starting with Olivia’s POV. This chapter is slightly shorter than my usual ones, but I needed to have a shorter one to get myself back in the spirit of writing for pleasure. I’m sorry I’ve been MIA for a couple of weeks, my job is taking over, and writing is a big part of it, so opening a Word doc has been quite the scary experience. But I’m doing my best, and I intend to keep writing this series, because it makes me happy :) Thank you for sticking with me!!!

*****

Olivia’s lips find Rashad’s and capture them seamlessly. She feels him lean into her kiss, as he closes his eyes and lets out a quiet moan. Fuck, he’s sexy, she thinks. How had she never noticed before? Now she can’t get enough of him.

‘Fuck, Nevrakis,’ he sighs. ‘You’re so hot.’

She smirks and kisses him again, all the while unbuttoning his shirt. Rashad’s hands run down her spine, giving her chills as they do. They grab her ass firmly, and press her further against him. She can very clearly feel his hard cock under his pants. The mere thought of it makes her wet.

She can’t wait anymore. They had multiple makeout sessions, endless flirting, and a lukewarm sex session. She needs the real him, now, or else…

She grinds him more and more intensely, until they both can’t take it any longer. His right hand leaves her ass to find the spot under her dress, between her thighs, and he gently pulls her already wet panties onto the side. Breathlessly, she follows suit and unzips his pants, and quickly pulls down his boxers, finally freeing his big cock. He moans harder onto her kiss.

She can’t wait anymore. He teases her entrance with the tip of his cock, but she wants more, now.

Once he’s completely inside her, they both let out a low groan.

Finally, she thinks. That’s what she’s talking about.

*****

Liam can’t stop his eyelid from twitching. The collar of his white shirt is hurting his neck, suffocating him. He wishes he could just run away and never look back.

His encounter with Drake this afternoon did him a world of good. Finally someone listened to him, not in a fake way like Madeleine used to, when she was trying to seduce him with her pretend compassion.

He has his best friend back. They can count on each other again.

Madeleine is wearing a pre-bridal outfit — white everything. She looks so angelic, Liam himself has trouble believing that she really is a schemer, just from looking at her. But when he thinks back of their awkward, forced interactions… He shudders. No more thinking.

Leo pats him on the back. The two brothers smile at each other. They had a heart-to-heart earlier, and Leo perfectly understood that Liam can’t ask him to be best man, with the history that he and Madeleine share. It felt good to be supported, even by just two people.

Madeleine holds out her hand for Liam to take. Together, they walk onto the platform, surrounded by reporters and various representatives of the Cordonian press. King Constantine is already on the platform, and Liam can’t help but think that he hasn’t really seen his father in motion for a very, very long time. Can he even walk anymore? In any case, he’s good at concealing. If that’s what being a King means, well, Liam won’t be any good. He can feel the beads of sweat dangling over his brow.

His father gives him a curt nod. It’s time.

He clears his throat. ‘People of Cordonia. It is with great pleasure that I officially announce my engagement to Countess Madeleine of Fydelia.’ He turns to Madeleine and they offer each other their fakest smile. ‘We couldn’t be happier about the news, and we look forward to the upcoming festivities. In four days, this Friday, we will depart for our engagement tour, which will stop in Rome, then Paris, then London, finally culminating in a trip to New York City. With us, we will have the pleasure to welcome our wedding parties. Please, Lady Madeleine,’ he says as he turns to her.

She smiles and says, ‘My maid of honor will be Lady Kiara of Castelsarreillan. In my wedding party, I will be delighted to count my fellow former contestants Lady Penelope of Portavira, Duchess Olivia Nevrakis of Lythikos, Lady Hana Lee, and—‘ she pauses and Liam could swear she let a slight smirk show. ‘Lady Amara Suarez.’

The crowd lets out a slight gasp. Liam hurries with his list. ‘And my best man will be my longtime friend Drake Walker. In my wedding party, I am welcoming my brother, former Prince Leo, Duke Bertrand Beaumont of Ramsford, Lord Maxwell Beaumont of Ramsford, and Lord Rashad Domvallier.’ He takes a long breath. ‘Thank you, dear people of Cordonia, for your well wishes. We both wish you all the happiness we are experiencing ourselves, and to all a good night.’

*****

‘Well, I guess it’s official,’ Drake says as he turns off the TV. ‘We gotta do this thing.’

Hana nods as she takes a sip of her wine. ‘Yep. Just the thought of pretending to be helpful to that bitch is giving me hives.’

Drake has to chuckle at Hana’s swearing - he might never get used to it. ‘And I have to be Liam’s freaking best man. Which, like… it’s fine, of course I want to be there for him, but—‘ He trails off. Amara meets his eye.

‘You’re nervous about being in the spotlight,’ she finishes his sentence. He nods. She continues, rubbing Drake’s hand in support. ‘I know, me too, babe. But think about it. It’s for the best. We’ll be on the frontline, ready to pounce if Madeleine shows her hand in the slightest.’

Maxwell nods. ‘Exactly. We’ll be there for each other, too. Oh and, after these drinks, let’s all write our acknowledgements to Liam and Madeleine. That way, tomorrow, we can go to the cabin without a care in the world.’

Drake smiles earnestly. ‘I can’t wait. We all need it. You’ll see, Mike, it’s as calm as what we’ve seen of the coast today, but even more remote.’

Michael smiles excitedly. ‘I’m excited! I’ll take loads of pictures for Callie, she’s been asking about where we are. She’ll love that.’

Drake looks to Amara, who is smiling quietly, a sneaky tear in her eye. Without saying a word, Drake takes her hand again, and squeezes it. He knows how much she’s missed her niece. How badly she wants to be a part of her life again. Drake can’t help but imagine Amara’s family visiting Cordonia, coming to the cabin, having long dinners on the patio, overlooking nature… He may not have much of a family —it’s broken, it spans over two continents and three countries, it’s riddled with lies and unspoken things— but Amara makes him want to fix things. With her folks, with his… He wants their ducks to be in a row.

‘Guys,’ Maxwell whispers dramatically, ‘has anyone heard from Liv?’

This takes Amara out of her daydream, and she replies, ‘Oh, not at all. Let’s hope she’s too busy to text.’ She performs a theatrical wiggling of her eyebrows.

Hana joins in, ‘Maybe she’s just too tied up at the moment.’

Michael nods, a cheeky smile on his face, ‘Maybe she needs to remain on top of things.’

Maxwell, a proud look on his face, chimes in: ‘Maybe she can’t talk because her mouth is full.’

Everyone looks on in horror, until a collective roaring laughter takes over the silence.

‘Holy shit Max,’ Amara says, crying with laughter, ‘too far, honey!’

Michael wipes off a tear, ‘Jeez Maxwell, we were trying to be subtle over here!’

Maxwell shrugs. ‘I just wanted to be a part of it, guys.’

*****

‘Please Michael, go to bed,’ Maxwell waves him off. ‘You don’t need to do all this.’

Michael continues to carry plates from the living room to the sink. ‘No, I want to help! Drake cooked, Amara made the after-dinner drinks, I want to do my part.’ He pauses and makes a charming face at Maxwell. ‘Please.’

Max sighs. Why must they always meet like this, in the kitchen? All Maxwell has ever done in here is messes, and a small fire once —Bertrand still won’t let him use the oven—, but these days, he finds himself drawn to this space. This is where he puts plates together for his friends. Even though he can’t cook, he loves to entertain, and while he happily leaves the roasting and chopping to Drake, Maxwell loves preparing snacks and apéritif trays.

Not to mention the late-night cleanups. Which Michael always joins in on.

He chuckles and busies himself with the dishes. He told everyone else to go to bed, that he’s got it. Truth is, he was kinda hoping this would happen. People going upstairs to pack for tomorrow’s trip, and, if we’re being realistic, Drake and Amara probably going upstairs to get it on. Bertrand went to bed a while ago, as soon as he came home, and that leaves him here, now.

Dammit, he thinks. Why did the girls have to put these ideas in his head?

Well, once again, if we’re being honest, the ideas were already in there, but Maxwell was simply burying them under piles and piles of insecurity, laced with unwavering friendliness.

Maxwell had never been the one in charge before —no one trusts him with anything usually, see the kitchen fire anecdote—, but ever since Michael turned up, it had been Max’s pleasure to show him around, make sure he’s okay, and, most importantly, help him and Amara fix their relationship.

He knows Amara trusts him, and considers him like a brother, which is of course reciprocal. From the moment he told her about Savannah, and instead of judging him for keeping that secret from Drake, she helped him come clean, he’s known that she is a true friend.

So, if she herself is telling him that she sees something between him and Michael, could there be some truth to it?

‘Hey Max,’ Michael says softly, interrupting his incessant internal questions. ‘Is your brother ok?’

Maxwell smiles. ‘Yeah, Bertrand’s fine. He’s just stressed out. He found out that he’s part of the wedding party and needs to come on the Tour, and he’s like Drake in a way. He doesn’t like the spotlight.’

Michael nods. ‘I see. It’s crazy how different you guys are.’ He pauses. ‘I don’t mean that you love the spotlight or anything, but you’re just more...comfortable. In any situation. It’s really admirable, actually.’

Maxwell chuckles and turns back to his dishwashing so Michael can’t see that he’s blushing. ‘Oh, thanks, but it’s nothing, really.’ He bites his lip, annoyed at himself for not finding the right words. It used to be so effortless between them, why did the girls have to fill his head with stupid fantasies?

But Michael doesn’t seem to mind. He sits at the kitchen island and starts putting cookies back in their tins, slowly, one by one, as if he wanted to drag this moment for longer. ‘I’m serious,’ he adds. ‘It takes a lot of guts, and a lot of adaptability, to be able to navigate any social situation without too much anxiety.’

Maxwell turns around to grab another dirty dish. He meets Michael’s eye. ‘Well thank you, but I don’t think I navigate that well. Plus, I was born into it, I guess, so I have no merit. Amara, on the other hand…’

Michael laughs. ‘Yeah, Amara has always been good with people. She’s analytic, too, you know. She figures people out really quickly.’ He pauses and absentmindedly plays with a cookie. ‘Like with Drake. You said he was basically the broody type, right?’

Max smiles. ‘Yeah. Not much of a social butterfly, our Drake.’

Michael chuckles. ‘Right. But I don’t know, around her, he seems to light up. Around us too, actually, when I went on the tour with him this afternoon, he was all friendly and talkative.’

Max puts down the last dish and put the kettle on, without even thinking about it. ‘Yeah. He and I have known each other forever. His sister is one of my closest friends. But before Amara showed up, I don’t know, he didn’t really open up. His dad died ten years ago and he really closed off afterwards.’ Maxwell stops himself. Shit, he thinks. That was a really sensitive topic to tackle, why did he have to talk about death right now?

Michael gets up and sets up two teacups on the island. Maxwell joins him while the kettle does its thing. ‘Well, Amara had closed off, too, as you know,’ Michael responds. ‘Just punished herself. Became a different person. Look, it’s really simple, I hadn’t seen my Amara for two years. But the minute I came here and saw her with you guys, with Drake, I knew. She’s back.’

Maxwell smiles brightly. ‘That’s really beautiful. I like that idea —they found each other and allowed each other to be open again.’

‘Right. But not just the two of them. Amara loves you, and Hana, and Olivia, and Bertrand, too. This isn’t just about Drake and Amara’s love, although that’s the obvious part. It’s more than that, it’s a group effort. You all support each other in ways I didn’t know were possible for people who’ve only been friends for a few months. It’s quite beautiful.’

Maxwell lets the silence wrap them both up, until the aggressive sound of the kettle draws them from their rêverie.

*****

‘Guys, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!’ Drake yells out from the front door. He’s been ready to go for a while, but Amara is carefully reviewing her bags to make sure she didn’t forget anything. They woke up very early and had a nice breakfast all together—Hana made a frittata—, and now Drake is loading up his Jeep.

‘One second babe,’ Amara responds, ‘Maxwell and Hana are still upstairs.’

Bertrand comes out of his study, and unsnaps his reading glasses. ‘Well, Amara, I wish you a pleasant stay, and I shall see you on Thursday.’

Amara wonders how someone who is under 35 years old has reading glasses that snap in the front. And are tied by a string that goes around his neck. Even her dad wouldn’t wear that. ‘Bertrand,’ she says as she pats his shoulder, ‘are you sure you don’t want to come? We can take two cars, we’d love to have you come with us.’

He blushes. ‘No no, thank you very much for the invitation, Drake insisted too, but I shall get my affairs in order before the tour commences on Thursday. I didn’t expect to be a part of it, you see.’

Amara smiles. ‘If you’re sure. But please, if you change your mind, call us and join us, ok?’

He nods. ‘Will do. Enjoy yourself, please.’

She squeezes his shoulder and heads outside. ‘Drake, relax,’ she says as she rolls her eyes, ‘they’ll be right out.’ She smiles upon seeing Michael outside, already loading his duffle bag into Drake’s Jeep. ‘Well someone else is eager,’ she teases.

Michael smiles, his blue eyes sparkling. ‘I gotta say, this is super exciting. Living in the city doesn’t give you too many opportunities like this one.’ He hops into the backseat.

Amara throws her luggage in the back and settles into the front seat. ‘You know,’ she says to Michael, looking at him in the rearview mirror, ‘you don’t HAVE to live in the city. From what Dad tells me, you have plenty of offers in Philly, you could comfortably live in the suburbs.’

Michael’s smile falters a bit as he nods along. ‘Yeah. I know Callie would love to get closer to Grampie and Grammie. But--’ he interrupts himself and shakes his head. ‘I can’t bring myself to sell the apartment before I find a place that I can really feel at home in. That’s the only home Callie has ever known. I can’t uproot her unless I’m sure.’

Amara nods and stretches her hand towards the backseat, reaching Michael’s knee. ‘You’re right. Sorry. You know best, it’s not my place.’

He grabs her hand. ‘It’s ok. I know it sounds silly, but nothing has clicked yet. Jorge and I visited this beautiful townhouse in Bryn Mawr, which is perfect on paper. I don’t know, it just didn’t work for me, for some reason.’

‘Listen to yourself. To your gut,’ she says. ‘It’ll happen.’

‘Wooooo here we come!’ Maxwell yells out from the front door. ‘Hana, give me your bag!’

He throws both bags in the back and opens the door for Hana, who makes quick eye contact with Amara before saying ‘Oh Max, would you mind getting in the middle? If I’m not near a window I’m gonna get nauseous.’

Amara has to fight the urge to roll her eyes and giggle. Maxwell isn’t wrong --acting must be the one thing Hana sucks at.

‘Sure thing babe,’ Max responds. He gets in right next to Michael, who smiles at him softly.

‘Alright guys,’ Drake says excitedly. ‘Let’s gooooooo!’

*****

‘Father, is everything alright?’ Liam asks, his fingers still rattling the door to ask for permission to enter.

He is met with a faint sound, emanating from his father, who is lying down on his bed, eyes half closed.

He gets closer, his hands shaky. He’s never seen him like this. He knew he had gotten worse, he knew his cancer was terminal, but he didn’t know just how bad it was.

‘Father?’ he asks hesitantly.

‘Li--Liam, you shouldn’t be here, I asked for no one to disturb me today.’ He swallows, but it’s obvious that he’s in pain. ‘Please go.’

Liam gets closer to his father. He feels like crying, but he can’t. Firstly, because it would make his father feel badly. Secondly, because Constantine has never been one to encourage displays of emotion.

‘Father,’ he whispers without making eye contact. ‘Bastien sent for me. He said you told your nurse to leave, and that you refused to take your medicine. Leo and I are concerned. Tell me what happened.’

Constantine rolls his eyes and sits up with tremendous effort. ‘Liam, this is none of your business. If you must know, this medicine is not helping, my pain is unmanageable. Please keep this to yourself, we’re not here for a pity party. The monarchy is strong, don’t let anyone think otherwise.’ He looks his son up and down. ‘How are things with your betrothed?’

Liam feels a pang in his heart. That’s the only thing his father cares about, visibly, and he’s not about to make the situation worse by opening up. ‘Things are fine. I’m hesitant to go on the tour, though, and to leave you alone here.’

Constantine lets a rare smile show on his face. ‘Don’t stay here on my behalf. Go, do your duty. You will come back here after London and attend the Engagement Ball. I’ll be here.’ He nods decisively.

Liam lets out a long sigh. ‘Alright, Father, as you wish.’

*****

‘Welcome, everyone!’ Drake yells out with a smile, as he opens the front door.

Michael takes in the gorgeousness of the scenery, before grabbing his bag from the Jeep. He shouldn’t feel so relaxed and happy without his daughter around, right? But something feels right around here. No stress, obviously, since he has zero responsibilities, and loving, supportive people surrounding him.

A pang of guilt goes through his chest. He should call Callie. Ever since Sergio passed, it’s been the two of them, always together, getting each other through life. Of course, his parents and in-laws are awesome and always around, but at the end of the day, it’s the two of them, the Hansen-Suarezes.

Drake distributes the rooms. Amara stays with him in his original bedroom, Max and Hana share Drake’s younger sister’s, and Michael is allotted the master bedroom.

‘Make yourself at home, Mike,’ Drake says to him softly. ‘I’ll let you get situated, if you need anything, let me know.’

‘Thank you so much,’ Michael replies gratefully. ‘This is amazing. I’ll be down soon, I wanna check in with my daughter really quickly.’

Drake nods. ‘Of course. Amara and I will be downstairs preparing drinks and snacks.’

Michael puts his bag down and opens it. Most of the clothes inside are too formal, too lawyery, but he notices that Maxwell snuck a couple of outfits in there for him. A note is pinned to a pair of jeans.

They suit you better than they suit me. All yours! :)

Michael smiles warmly. Maxwell never ceases to be thoughtful. He’d have to remember to buy him something as a thank you. Drake could help him sneak out and pick something.

He picks up his phone and dials Jorge’s number. His father-in-law’s warm voice picks up.

‘Hi sweetheart. Is everything ok?’

‘Hi Jorge, I’m doing great, how are you?’

‘Great,’ he says, ‘we’re in the countryside at Drake’s cabin for a couple of days.’

‘Wonderful, dear, is Amara ok too?’

Michael smiles. ‘Doing great, Jorge. You can rest assured, she is very happy here.’

Jorge’s voice lights up. ‘That’s so good to hear.’ He pauses. ‘Callie, sweetie, it’s your daddy. Come chat with him for a bit.’

Michael feels himself regenerate as he talks to his daughter. The conversation is short, it basically revolves around how much she loved going to Dilworth Park with Grampie and Grammy, and how fun it was playing in the fountain. Michael hangs up with a light heart.

He was silly to feel like a bad dad, just because he felt relaxed without her. Ever since Callie was born, he has been a reliable and loving father, who managed to maintain as stable a life for Callie as he could, after Sergio’s death. He juggled all the grueling paperwork, the grief, and the parenting duties, making sure she had enough love, hugs, support, tenderness in her life.

If anyone was good at being a widower, it was Michael. It fucking ruined his life, but he handled it like a champ. Stable in the face of adversity. Always even, only letting his feelings overflow when it came to his sister-in-law, whose grief he could not handle too well.

He had been stable. But not happy.

Of course, Callie makes him happy. She’s the light of his life, and always will be.

But he’d been on autopilot.

Seeing Amara actually thrive as her life got ridiculous and out of control had been eye opening. Maybe he needed that, too. Just for a while.

*****

Taglist:

@drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @andy-loves-corgis , @jovialyouthmusic , @mariahschoices , @drakesensworld , @thequeenofcronuts , @notoriouscs , @drakewalkerisreal , @nikkis1983​ , @simsvetements , @alesana45 @iplaydrake @emceesynonymroll @lily1999love @silviasutton1989 @dcbbw @texaskitten30 @furiousherringoperatortoad @hollygirl1269 @sirbeepsalot @ladyangel70 @thisperfectmemory @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @mrsmairstanley @addictedtodrakefanfic @msjpuddleduck @kimmiedoo5 @furryperfectionlover @princessleac1

Thank you for your encouragements, everyone! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

[msjr0119]

Why me?

Part 24- Memories

Riley is forced out of Cordonia unknowingly to her friends, and moves back to New York.

She is later faced with her past from Cordonia and is hiding a few new secrets. With the help from her New York friends and friends from Cordonia will she escape her current situation and find her happy ever after?

Tags- @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @choiceslover-24-7 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld

*Most of the text in this part belong to Pixelberry Studios*

******

“Mr Walker, your obs are all fine. And you may leave when you are ready. Is there anything you need support with?”

Drake frowned at the doctor, he isn’t suicidal- well maybe he was at the time. But now, he has the family he had always dreamed about. All his life he had been pushed into the corner because he was “a commoner”. This attitude towards the Walker siblings truly hurt both him and Savannah. They had Cordonian blood in them even if it was only their dads. They was born and bred there, so had every right to remain there despite this discrimination against them not having a title. But now, he felt like he had won the lottery having this beautiful woman by his side and a baby due- a dream come true.

“No thank you. I don’t need any support. It was a stupid mistake, one that I’ll regret for the rest of my life.”

“If you ever change your mind Mr Walker, you know where to find us.”

Riley walked into the room, smiling at her other half, knowing they were going ‘home’ together.

“So, Walker? Are you ready?”

“Damn right I am! Especially with you being back in my arms.”

Drake put his arms around Riley, holding her close- showing how much he cared for her.

*****

They arrived back at the palace, it was extremely quiet. Everyone wanted to see Drake, but Liam had advised them all to give both him and Riley a bit of breathing space before bombarding them. Riley was grateful for this and Drake would be too. However, Riley did want to see one person - that person was Hana. Without Hana, Drake possibly wouldn’t be alive and their baby would have grown up without its father.

Riley knocked on Hana’s door, and Hana immediately answered the door, pulling the two of them in a tight bear hug. Relieved to have her two friends back where they belong.

“Sorry, did I hurt you both? I’m just so happy you are both back!”

“No it’s fine Hana, on behalf of myself and Drake we would both like to thank you for everything you’ve done- but mainly for saving Drake’s life. I am proud to call you my best friend, Hana.”

“Oo Ri. You’re going to make me cry! I’m just glad your both back and I can’t wait to meet Baby Walker.”

“Hana, I’m sorry I was horrible to you when I was down. I shouldn’t have acted like that. No words can explain how awful I feel. I’m so grateful you helped me, so I can live my dream with Riley and our baby. I’ve been thinking.... and I’m sure Brooks would agree with me... I’d be honoured if you would be our baby’s godmother?”

Riley put her arm around Drake’s waist, before smiling softly at Hana agreeing with him. That was when their best friend pulled them both back into a hug, Riley wiped both her and Hana’s tears away.

“I’d be honoured you two! Thank you so much.”

******

They both left Hana’s room and had decided that Drake needed some rest and time to settle back in. They entered his room - Riley ran him a bath, before telling him she was meeting Beth and would be back later on. He looked disappointed at her, but knew he couldn’t have her to himself all the time and she was correct saying he needed to relax.

“I’m going to have this bath and then have a quick sleep- not that I haven’t had enough ha. You better be back soon Brooks. I love you.”

“I promise, I love you too.”

******

Drake woke up shortly, sprawled out on his large double bed, yawning and stretching his arms. He wondered what Riley and Beth were doing, then thought about his and Riley’s time together when they had first met. Smiling at the memory of how stubborn he was, not letting his true feelings been shown. Scared of feeling rejected, but now knowing what his future looked like he really wished he hadn’t wasted the time and felt smug that someone had chosen him for once.

“Wow!”

“Wow?”

“I... almost didn’t recognise you.”

That first night she looked beautiful, it really was love at first sight. She was much more than ‘just a waitress’. It was supposed to be a man only weekend away. How can one woman make four grown men fall at their knees? Thank god for Maxwell and his “stupid” idea about bringing her to Cordonia. Deep down I wanted to see her again - never would I have imagined she would be carrying my baby.

“Look no offence, but I’ve seen girls like you come and go. It never ends well. Not for you, not for Liam and not for the Royal family.”

“Drake to be fair, you’re more my type.”

Even back then, she was hinting she liked me and I pushed her away. Why was I like that? Secretly I thought she was a player- a flirt maybe? But I couldn’t help smile when she said that to me. I’ve never been anyone’s type before apart from Kiara- but the difference is, I liked Brooks back then even if I tried to deny it. I’ve never hidden the fact that I dislike Kiara.

“Good evening my lady.”

“So you do have manners?”

“Riley? Is that you?”

“Yeah didn’t you recognise me?”

“I... I was caught off guard. You clean up well.”

“Drake was that compliment?”

Manners? Yes Brooks, I think I’ve only ever had manners with you. You looked gorgeous that night, I wished I could have taken you away that first night and kept us from all the hurt. I really was caught off guard- this woman was more beautiful than I remembered. I wonder if she knew there was a soft side to me back then? I should have said she looked gorgeous- but all that came out was that she cleaned up well. Even with my poor ‘chat up lines’ she still ended up falling in love with me. If this baby is a boy, I need to teach him how to woo a lady and not be a nervous wreck in front of them.

“Nothing to worry about big fella. I’ll get this girl outta here for you. You okay Riley?”

“Drake you saved me!”

“Really? I thought I was saving the horse... these derby runners are like athletes. Can’t risk an injury tripping over a stray human.”

“Oh charming! Did the horse knock the sense out of you?”

“Nah. In fact, I got away without a scratch.”

Why was I sarcastic jerk again? She was happy that I saved her. Surprised I didn’t scare her away- that was the first time I saw her eyebrows raise at me, she looked hot when she was pissed off. She obviously disapproved of my sarcastic comments. Yes Liam, asked me to look out for her, but I’d have probably done it anyway- without any prompt needed.

“Watch it Brooks. You’re on my side.”

“Sorry did I miss the part where you owned this bakery?”

“You don’t let anything go do you?”

“Nope.”

“You’re going to be trouble, I can tell.”

Out of everyone she chose to sit next to me, I was thrilled but couldn’t act like I was- Liam was there. She was there for Li. That was the first time she held our friendship together with glue. And she was a little shit breaking the rules- going out after curfew.

“Well you win this round, Brooks.”

“Don’t tell me that even big, bad Drake thinks the cronuts are worth the hype?”

“I can admit when someone else is right, it’s one of my charms.”

“I didn’t know you had any, charms I mean.”

“Hah. You’re kind of funny you know that?”

“Drake I’m glad you managed to join us.”

The night that Riley introduced us to the best thing since sex- well at the time it was. After myself and Riley had made love for the first time, I soon changed my mind. Cronuts coming a close second. She was glad I hung out with them. Usually people would avoid me at all costs but Riley, she was different. We all had a good night, she was funny and when she laughed her smile was amazing. I wonder if she will crave cronuts? This baby could be the death of me.

“Olivia leave Drake alone before I slap that smile off your face.”

“What did you come out here to do, exactly?”

“If you really want to know... you’ll have to trust me.”

“Trust you? I’d trust you as far as I can throw you. And you look pretty heavy to me!”

“Heh. We’ll you’re out here alone with me at night, so you must think I’m at least not some kind of a murderer.”

“The thought had crossed my mind.”

(Riley took Drake’s hand)

“For y’know, safety.”

“It’s really slippery out here.”

The first time someone had stuck up for me- she was brave going against a Nevrakis. I don’t know if she knew that I heard what she had said? I fell for her that night. I’ve never opened up to anyone about my past- but she was there taking notice and listening to me- she was a saint. I know deep down she trusted me, she was being stubborn and lied to me. The first time we held hands “for safety”, I felt a shock run through my body. To be honest I still feel it now, every time we touch.

“What is it about you? Your so frustrating, but....”

“But?”

“Forget it. How about a toast instead?”

“What’re we roasting to?”

“To the moments in between.”

Drake and Riley’s moments in between. We had a lot of them. I wonder how people didn’t figure out our feelings towards each other. I so desperately wanted her that night. Why couldn’t I have been selfish? Every moment she chose to spend with only me, I fell more in love with her, I just couldn’t help it. I deserved happiness- instead I chose to wait, a lot of missed opportunities.

“I’m here for you... anytime.”

“Brooks!”

“Yes?”

“Thanks”

My birthday, when she convinced us to all go out and for me to ride the bull. She asked about my childhood, my family. She cared for me all this time. How could I have been so ignorant and not asked about her family? This was the first birthday, I had enjoyed in years and it was all because of Riley. I wish we had met her before we did.

“You know, when we first met, I wanted to dislike you so badly...”

“You WANTED to dislike me? Why?”

“You were crashing Liam’s bachelor party! It was supposed to be our last night out together before all of this...we’ve always been like brothers, doing everything together... now I’m lucky to see him for five minutes without a noble girl throwing herself in front of him... sorry I didn’t mean...”

“I know what you meant.”

“Anyway, I know we got off to a bad start, but somewhere along the way... things changed. Hell Brooks I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“Drake, I wanted you dislike you too.”

“You did?”

“Yeah... I mean you, were a total jerk to me! But now...”

“Now?”

“It took time... but I figured out that you’re actually human under all those scowls.”

I just wanted to blurt out that I loved her. These little hints that we had feelings for each other gave me hope. I never thought in a million years she would chose me over a king. All those people who put me down in the past and this wonderful woman liked me for who I am.

“Didn’t realise you could be so gentle, Brooks.”

“I’ve got a gentle side... you just don’t see it very often.”

“I could stand to see more of it. I know I don’t act very grateful for anything most of the time but I do... care about you.”

“Drake I care about you too.”

“If we’d have met somewhere else... anywhere else. At a club in New York, or in an airport, or at a party....if you hadn’t been our waitress that night, and I hadn’t been sitting next to Liam... do you think this could have been different... between us?”

“Drake it would have been different. Sure you would’ve still been gruff and I wouldn’t have let you get away with anything...but the rest? Yeah, it would have been different. Maybe everything would’ve been different.”

The start of all the shit, that was about to come. The first time I saved her from getting hurt, I was tempted to get her home to New York and follow her. The way she touched me after I protected her, I wanted more but knew I couldn’t. I hated Tariq- I wanted to kill him for hurting her. At the time we didn’t know what was coming, but my god I loved her.

“Whatever I feel, it doesn’t matter.”

“Drake... what about how I feel?”

“How you feel...of course I care how you feel. I just didn’t think... I mean what are you saying Brooks?”

“I’m saying I want you Drake.”

“Brooks...”

“Yes...”

“I’ve wanted this for so long... i didn’t think this would be more than fantasy.”

Ah the Beaumont’s study- my favourite memory. We finally opened up and my fantasy became reality. She was like a magnet drawing me closer until I became too weak and gave in. I’m glad I gave in- she’s too irresistible. We cared for each other. We was meant to be.

“You clean up good Drake.”

“Thanks.”

“And here I thought you said you’d only dress up if there was someone you wanted to impress?”

“Yeah, well... I guess maybe I found someone worth impressing.”

“Drake....”

“If only for tonight...”

“What were you thinking just now?”

“I was thinking... if this is the last time I’m going to be alone with you before your an engaged woman... I’d be a damned fool to not kiss you.”

And I was a damned fool- a fool who had finally fallen in love but daren’t admit it. She looked stunning that night- as she always did. And yes I made the effort just for her- I was glad she noticed because I felt a like a dickhead wearing a suit. But that night was the first time I lost Riley Brooks. My heart broke when the guards took her away. I was furious with Liam for choosing Madeline, but in the end it all worked out. Riley had fallen in love with me, we went through the engagement tour sneaking off together. I thought life couldn’t get better when she had chosen me. But now we have a baby on its way. This has been one crazy love story- but Drake Walker you deserve happiness and so does Riley Brooks.

******

“Hey Drake! How are you?”

“Hi Li, I’m okay. I had a bath, a quick sleep and have just been thinking about my- our future.”

“I’m glad. And what about the future? The baby?”

Drake felt guilty when Liam asked about their future, knowing it was awkward if he elaborated on what he had asked.

“No... well yes... erm. Are the Beaumont’s here? I need to ask them a question.”

[you-andthebottlemen]

58 - Original: Van taking care of you when you’re stressed (platonic)

So after seeing Catfish recently I had a lotttt of emotions and feelings. Also very stressed at the moment so writing this fic sort of felt like therapy. It’s a platonic Van x reader fic but take it how you want. I hope you enjoy it!

Love E x

****************************************************************

Stress was one thing. What you were experiencing right now was something else entirely. The sort of stress and panic that filled your body with an uncomfortable burning feeling which made your appetite disappear and stopped you from being able to do anything at all. Completely paralysing.

You sat on the floor, laptop and notebooks spread out in front of you, just blankly staring at the screen. Your digital calendar with all the different commitments colour coded glowed dauntingly. You wanted to be sick. So much to do, not enough time and you had no idea where to begin. You were absolutely spinning out.

“Y/n. Here, have one of them peach teas you like so much,” Larry insisted as he walked through the door of your bedroom.

He held out a plastic bottle of peach iced tea, your favourite. You just shook your head, not taking your eyes off of the screen. He sighed and placed it down on your desk anyway after clearing a spot amongst all the papers and pens. Bless him. He’d been trying to help any way he could for the last few days. From bringing you your favourite things the way a dog brings their Person a toy as a sign of love, to offering to proof read your work and even attempting to cook you a roast. It meant the world but wasn’t any help once you were in this state.

The draft of your thesis was due in one short week and you were absolutely nowhere near close enough to reaching that deadline. Aside from that you’d been rostered on for extra shifts this week at work too. You just had no time and your brain couldn’t get anything straight. You just couldn’t see how you’d get everything done or how you would get through it all.

“C’mon y/n. You can’t keep going like this. What can I do?”

“Nothing.”

Larry stood leaning against the door frame. You groaned and fell back onto the floor, legs spread out. You drifted into a haze of weirdly calm panic, gazing into the off-white ceiling. You heard Larry sigh, shuffle away and put the kettle on in the kitchen.

Minutes or perhaps hours passed. You were only brought out of your staring match with the ceiling when you heard voices.

“Not even sleeping like, won’t eat. Nothing. ‘Dunno what to do...”

Larry was talking to someone, clearly about you. There was more said but you didn’t catch it. You heard two pairs of footsteps come closer and closer to your room. Staying flat on your back, eyes upwards, you didn’t look to see who Larry had brought over. But you didn’t have to look. Van walked over and wordlessly lay down on the floor beside you. He looked up at the ceiling too and rested his hands on his stomach.

“What’s goin’ on, babe?” he asked quietly, casually.

There was no sound of concern in his voice, no fear of saying the wrong thing like Larry always had when you got like this. You liked that. Sometimes, somehow, Van just seemed to get you more than anyone else and you didn’t know why. It made sense that Larry had called him as a last resort. You’d been mates with the boys for a few years now and house sat for Larry while he was away. Though you’d been staying there for the last few weeks despite him being home, working on your thesis; their wifi was better and ironically, they lived closer to the library than you did.

“Stressed,” you grunted back.

“Yeah. So, what, are you gonna stare at this wall forever?” he asked, teasing you lightly.

It worked, your eyes were pulled away for the off-white and snapped to his face instead.

He was looking at you now, a small smile curling up at the corners of his lips. His eyes glinted and his mouth hung open slightly.

“It’s a ceiling. And I guess not, no,” you replied, your voice weak but your racing thoughts put on hold for a moment.

Van cracked a little grin and sat up. He stood and stepped over you, one foot either side of your legs and held his arms out. As he looked down at you, his fringe flopped forwards over his forehead and his golden necklace fell from between his collar and hung in the air off his neck.

“Up ya get.”

You begrudgingly grabbed onto his hands. They were warm against your cold skin which was somewhat calming, and he pulled you to your feet with surprising strength. You felt like a rag doll being lifted about. Once you were standing, you wrapped your arms around yourself. You’d hardly eaten or slept and the sudden movement made you a little lightheaded. The anxiety was still going full force and your heart rate was so fast it was making you clammy. You glanced at the door; no sign of Larry, he’d left Van to deal with your shit alone.

“Come on. Bath. You look like shit love, sorry. Need to wash your hair and stuff,” Van instructed.

“Like you can talk!” you replied, reaching out to touch his usually greasy as fuck hair that was actually rather soft and shiny today.

Van smirked and guided you to the bathroom. You smelt lavender wafting from the open door; Larry had only gone and run you a bath, probably at Van’s instruction. You could have just melted on the spot. These boys were too, too good to you. It was oddly nice just being told what to do and where to go. Your brain didn’t have to operate for a little while which was a pleasant change to the constant state of overdrive it had been in.

Van left you to shed your clothes and step into the hot bubble bath. The heat warmed your bones and you could feel some of the tension leave your body. The big lights were off, only the dim lights around the mirror were switched on, creating a warm glow. You shut your eyes and breathed slowly. After a while, you dipped your head back into the water and let your hair soak.

Eventually there was a gentle knock at the door. You made a humming sound to invite whichever of the boys it was, inside. With a deep breath you brought your knees to your chest and hugged them, letting the bubbles cover you.

Van cautiously walked into the bathroom; probably afraid he’d see more of you than either of you bargained for. You just smiled at him sweetly and he placed a cup of tea down on the tiled corner between the bath and wall for you and your pyjamas on the sink.

“Thank you, Van. I love Larry. But I needed this, thanks for the push.”

“That’s alright, love. Larry’s good, but I’ve got more experience handling girls,” he replied smugly.  

You cringed a little but laughed softly. You loved Van’s easy confidence in himself.

“What! You’ve seen him, he’s a bit clueless…” Van chuckled, defending his cockiness. This just made you giggle more because Van was just as clueless, only in different ways.

“Oh don’t say that…but yeah. He’s been bringing me assorted drinks all day.”

Van joined in your laughter but was still radiating love for his best friend.

“Okay…well I’ll leave you to it,” Van said finally, standing awkwardly and looking down at you.

You felt slow and sleepy, at ease finally.

“No. Play me a song?”

“Yeah?” Van replied, his face perking up.

You nodded and shut your eyes again.

Van disappeared from the bathroom and you used this time to slurp up the tea he’d brought in. When he returned acoustic guitar in hand, Van shut the door behind him and closed the toilet lid before sitting down. You placed the mug back in its spot and lay back against the bath as Van began to softly strum some gentle chords in a melody that was slow and sweet. You had never felt so relaxed. Trying to respect your privacy, he didn’t look up from the strings, but you were too exhausted and drowsy to care anyway. A comfortable silence fell between you both and you let the sounds of the guitar reverberate against the bathroom’s acoustics, lulling you into a state of bliss.

You knew that all this wasn’t going to fix your problems, but it was good to switch off and recharge. You’d gotten yourself so worked up that you just stopped functioning. You were grateful that Larry had staged a Van intervention and forced you to calm the fuck down.

Once the bubbles began to dissolve and you were close to drifting off to sleep to the sound of Van’s guitar, you mumbled to him about getting your towel. Van held up the fluffy white towel and wrapped it around you as you stepped out of the tub. Just as before, he disappeared to give you peace and privacy.

You lazily applied some body butter to all your dry patches, the vanilla scent perking you up a bit. When you were done, you grabbed Larry’s dressing gown that was hung behind the door and put it on over your t-shirt and pyjama pants. You trudged out into the kitchen, expecting to see Van and Larry in there having a smoke, but it was empty.

After a quick glance in the mostly unfilled fridge, you settled on heating up some salty edamame beans. You took the bowl with you through the house and found the boys sat on Larry’s bed playing Fifa. When you walked through the door, Van paused the game and looked over at you with a raised eyebrow, curious about what was in the bowl.

In the bath, you sort of felt like you were on a cloud of lavender and bubbles and calm. Now, you just felt kinda numb and tired. The anxiety was mostly gone for now, and you’d gotten so used to it being there that you felt weird without it.

“Thanks,” you said again to the boys as you climbed over Van and sat between them.

You leaned back against Larry’s bed head and stretched your legs out like the other two.

“Dunno’ how Van got through to you but thank God he did, couldn’t deal with zombie y/n anymore,” Larry admitted, a dumb little smile on his face.

You gave him a look and bumped your shoulder into his.

“I got that magic touch,” Van replied smoothly, proud of himself for essentially bringing you back to the land of the living.

“That sounds wrong, mate…” Larry snorted.

You rolled your eyes at the two of them. Boys.

You sucked and chewed on the edamame beans, enjoying the salt and the satisfaction of popping the beans out of the pod with your teeth.

“Why’re you eatin’ peas y/n?” Van asked, not looking away from the screen as they’d resumed the game.

“Not peas,” you replied.

You explained what they were, and Van wanted to try. Larry had tried edamame a few times and decided he hated them. When the game was next paused, you told him what to do, reinforcing that you don’t eat the pod. This baffled Van a little, but it was cute and entertaining watching him work out the new food.

You and Larry watched carefully as Van’s face slowly transitioned through a range of responses as he put the pod in his mouth, he popped the beans and chewed.

“Don’t like the texture,” he said once he swallowed.

“Of the beans or the pod?”

“Both. Seems like hard work just for a couple peas.”

“Not peas, but yeah.”

Larry was giggling at Van’s response.

“More for me I guess,” you shrugged.

“Oi. Didn’t say I wasn’t having any more!” Van responded, his voice going all high.

With a laugh you placed the bowl down on your legs and let Van take another bean. He had the same confused and slightly disgusted reaction as last time, but you didn’t say anything because you knew he was doing it for your benefit. The laughter and the distraction were good. And so were the two boys sat either side of you.

You’d face the day tomorrow with a fresh start and knowing that if you got snowed under again, Van and even Larry, would be there armed with shovels to help you dig yourself out.