#i missed turning it into my advisor last friday

[delta-piscium]

asking whoever came up with quotes in academic papers for their hand in marriage, i love filling up my word count with quotes that explain my point so i don’t have to and they make me look so well read too, we shall have a spring wedding my love

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Friday

Prev

Trespasser, In Which Jak Gets Another Bad Idea

When he'd hastily redressed and stumbled out of the garrison locker room before anything else could happen, Jak quickly found himself confronted by that Strom guy again.

"An hour? Really?" Strom pursed his lips disapprovingly. "You think we have some magic supply of water to spare?"

"Lay off, we weren't washing for an hour -- much as I'd love to," Daxter argued, "The big guy fell asleep!"

"In the shower? Isn't that dangerous?"

Jak shrugged. "How would I know?"

Strom decided after a moment that this fell under the category of "none of my business". He sighed and waved for Jak to follow him.

"The king says we're to put you up in the barracks for now." He eyed Jak's face, somewhat startled by how much younger he looked under the dirt. "How old are you?"

Jak shrugged. "Midway through seventeen-ish. I think. My "guardian" wasn't exactly a reliable source."

More things to file under "none of my business"

"Oh...kay..." Strom did his best to move past one or two odd questions surfacing in his mind. "Well that narrows down which dorm you're in, at least."

"How so?"

They stepped back out into the late afternoon heat, onto the main road through the Gate District. The burning sun barely touched Jak, deflected by his wet clothes as if he were wearing his own air conditioning. He decided to pretend it had been intentional. Just in case someone asked why his clothes were all wet.

They were led towards the end of a row of houses built into the city wall, leading to an impressibly high flight of stairs into some kind of coliseum. Strom did his best to explain as he led them up the stairs, but he wasn't usually the guy they called for rookie orientation for a reason.

"It's um. So- okay look. The Arena sublevels are divided into three floors: the hospital, the armory, and the barracks. Barracks are split between militia, citizen candidates, and teenage Squads."

He didn't explain Squads.

"You're going to end up in that last one -- probably Dorm 4, that's where they put orphans or unregistered foundlings."

"Orphans?!" Daxter chirped indignantly. Then he paused. "I mean. I guess it's accurate, but you didn't have to say it!"

They didn't end up in Dorm 4.

The Resident Advisor took one look at the slightly dusty, slightly soggy, boy and ottsel and assigned them to an empty bunk in the second hall, Dorm 2. Jak was handed a canteen and a folded set of sheets before being unceremoniously ushered down the hall and into a sparse dorm room holding two bunk beds. For the moment, it was empty.

"Lights are out at 9 bells, no exceptions unless you got a case of the screaming meemies," the RA said gruffly. He pointed at a bottom bunk without sheets -- Jak's, apparently.

"You're responsible for keeping that bunk at least clean enough to pass weekly room checks. Check the schedule on the wall if you want to know when mess hall is open. If you miss that, you can hit the markets, but you're on your own for paying for it."

Jak eyed the bunk uncomfortably. He was responsible for maintaining this bed? He probably wasn't even going to be here that long! He cringed when the RA pushed a twelve by six metal box across the floor with a terrible scratching sound.

"That's your footlocker. If you want a lock, get it yourself. You kids keep losin' em and now we're out." The RA snorted. "But most of the squad in your room is on home rotation this week, so you only have to worry about maybe Sam stealing your stuff. He won't, by the way. Too busy training."

He turned to go, then turned back quickly. "Oh. Gotta confiscate your gun mods, so don't lose your marbles when you get your gun back plain."

"The rot you do!" Jak protested, "I earned those!"

"Don't care." The RA shrugged. "None of your dormmates have and I don't want 'em getting ideas about "borrowing" em."

With a stern warning not to start any fights, and to not miss allotted mealtimes if he didn't want to go hungry, the RA keft Jak alone with Daxter. They stood in the center of the room, blinking incredulously.

"Well..." Jak said after several seconds, "It's not a cell."

"Or an alley," Daxter agreed.

He hopped down and examined the mattress. Nothing fancy, but it was miles better than they were used to.

"Here, gimme the fitted sheet."

"What's a fitted sheet?"

"The one with the stretchy corners." Daxter pointed. "That's the one that goes on the bottom. Wraps around so it don't get pulled off if you roll around a lot."

"...oh. Weird."

Jak handed the thing to Daxter and watched in fascination as his friend set about attaching one corner at a time. It looked difficult.

Before he could offer help, his talk-box activated. That was a bit of a surprise. They'd been traveling for two days already and nobody had made a peep. Daxter had thought they'd have noticed the first time he turned off the location tracker!

"Jak! Jak, where are you?!"

Samos. Jak's stomach churned.

"Don't know," he answered flippantly. "I think we just got put in an orphanage."

"Don't be ridiculous! Get out of whatever nonsense you two knuckleheads have walked into and get back to Main Town! Something is going on, and I need time to investigate without those blasted Deathbots shooting at me!"

"Life's hard."

"What did you just say?"

Jak scoffed, feeling a little of the bubbling anger of dark eco in his core.

"You can't handle a little gunfire? You didn't have an issue making a couple kids walk into it daily. You'll figure it out."

"How can you say something so horrible to me?! I raised you to be a hero, Jak! You sound like that mercenary!"

Jak snorted."Well good. Sig's the only adult in that city I still trust."

Samos sputtered for several seconds in helpless, bewildered anger. Then he gathered himself.

"Get over yourself, Jak! Lives are at stake! I don't care what you're playing at, you turn around and get back here before something worse happens!"

Jak rolled his eyes. The sage sounded like Ashelin. He tossed Daxter the top sheet and studied the foot locker, wondering if he should use it.

"Nah, can't."

"What do you mean "can't?"

Jak shrugged as if Samos could see him. As if Daxter hadn't placed a piece of tape over the lens when he got tired of the spying.

"Oracle says I'm not done out here. Wherever "here" is. Lay off, wouldja? The Precursors sent me out here!"

He listened to Samos's stunned silence a moment before dryly asking, "Did you think they only spoke to Onin, or-?"

"But-" the old sage stammered, "But why would the Precursors send you from us when our need was greatest?"

"Probably because yours isn't the only city in the world? There are other people out there, Haven can get over itself," Jak flung the sage's words right back at him.

"What makes you think there's anything beyond the walls other than ruined wastes?"

"Those eco shipments for Praxis were coming from somewhere," Jak reasoned. Then his voice darkened to match his mood.

"There's no law that says I can't investigate. Sandover may have turned into Haven, but that doesn't mean I'm chained to it. You people already tried that, remember?"

"Jak!"

"I think the Precursors want me to find out who else survived," Jak said, though he wasn't sure that was it at all.

"I'll let you know if I find any sages."

"But Jak-!"

"Have to go, Samos. That hall monitor guy didn't say comm calls weren't allowed in the dorms but I need this thing, so I'm not taking chances."

He ended the call before Samos could make more than an outraged cough. When he looked down, Daxter was watching him with a funny expression.

"What?" he asked, a bit defensively.

"Nothin," Daxter said, unconvincingly. Then he gave a bittersweet grin. "Just never heard you stand up to Loghead like that before."

Jak looked away. "Should've been fighting him from day one. Like you. You knew he was bad news from the start, didn't you?"

Daxter rubbed his arm ruefully. "I um. I don't got a lot of memories of my folks. I was pretty little when the shark got em. But I remember my old man saying "Never trust a man who won't apologize to a kid", and then Samos came through dragging you. An'...an' you cried that whole first day, kept pointing to the sky and making a circle with your arms. And Samos ignored you."

Jak swallowed hard. "I don't remember that," he said softly. "Or much of Sandover at all now."

He sat down on the floor next to Daxter. The thanks he'd given Samos just weeks ago sat sour in his stomach. The real person he should've thanked had been right there beside him and he'd overlooked him just like Samos always did.

"Daxter?" he said gravely, "Thank you. For everything. All of it. I wouldn't be here without you."

Daxter leaned against his shoulder. "Well duh," he joked, trying to lighten a somber moment, "Heroes don't leave their sidekicks with weirdos! It goes against the bro code!"

Then he sobered.

"For the record, I don't blame ya for not knowing he had his hooks in ya. He um. I mean, you were real little, y'know? I think you maybe stuck with him at first because he was the only familiar face, and he used that against ya."

Jak laughed bitterly. "I wonder if I'd have had the guts to say all that if he was actually here?"

Daxter recognized the beginning of a spiral and elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"Well he ain't! And we're not gonna will that into existence with what-ifs!"

He scurried up onto the bunk and spread out in the middle of the mattress.

"Ahhhh! Hey, are you gonna know which morph gun is ours when we get the key to that gun locker?"

Jak pushed him to one side and, after a moment's debate, unlaced his boots.

"The stock on mine looks striped because of all the tally marks on it. The others are completely blank."

"Oh! Didn't see that!"

Reluctantly, Jak took off his goggles and gauntlets and dropped them into the foot locker. At least if it didn't have a lock, he could get them back out at a moment's notice. His knife and amulet he kept on him.

The Call hadn't subsided. He still felt it, and he still didn't know what it meant. So for now, that seemed to mean staying in this hostel/barrack/orphanage combination with more Wastelanders than he'd ever known existed. At least they were Wastelanders and not soldiers. He would've slept on the streets before letting them put him in a dorm with soldiers.

The wall schedule said that the cafeteria didn't open until 6 bells after noon. That left roughly an hour before they could find out if they were allowed to take anything from it.

For a time, Jak occupied himself by polishing his channeling ring with his damp scarf. Daxter tried and failed to braid Jak's hair, but the condition it was in was just too poor.

"Pal," Daxter said reluctantly, "I don't think these mats are comin' out."

Jak sighed in resignation. He'd wanted to avoid this -- the only haircut he could remember had been a traumatic buzzcut because a KG accidentally spread bugs through the cell block -- and got himself a spot in the cell two doors down from Jak when the bugs spread to Errol. (Who was absolutely hideous with a buzz cut, and was in utter anguish about his "beautiful hair". Couldn't have happened to a nicer person. It had been the absolute highlight of Jak's entire year.)

Jak took his knife, sheath and all, from the back of his belt and held it out to Daxter.

"Do what you gotta do," he groaned, "Just don't cut it all off."

The roommate who wasn't on "home rotation", whatever that was, came back midway through the haircut. In his state of exhaustion, he didn't actually see Daxter.

"Your...hair is falling off," he mumbled in confusion.

"It's on purpose," Jak said.

"Oh."

Sam leaned against the door to pry off his boots, then blinked.

"Wait, what?"

"He's getting a haircut, doofus!" Daxter sniped.

"Ohhhhkay, the kangarat is talking." Sam dropped his boot and stared with very wide eyes. "Cooooolll coolcoolcool everything's cool."

"Ottsel, not rat," Jak corrected. "Daxter is sensitive about that."

"...uh-huh..."

Sam swung a gear bag up over the top of the top bunk bed post. With little effort, he swung himself up the ladder after it. Apparently he shared the bunk Jak had been assigned.

"Are you new? I don't remember you," he yawned.

"First day here," Jak admitted, "still dunno what's going on."

Silence for a few seconds. Then, "So...does that mean you came from Outside?"

"I guess? Don't know how I got here from Haven, but I'm not complaining."

"Oh."

Sudden Sam was leaning over the rail of the bunk, spiky blonde hair falling in his face.

"No kidding? Me too! I mean, I ran away from Kras, but. Stowed away on a cargo ship and got caught at the docks."

Kras. The name was familiar. Something to do with racing, but Jak hadn't been paying attention.

"So you planning on the Arena too?" asked Sam.

"I still don't know what the Arena is," Jak said pointedly. "Is it for races?"

"See, that's what I thought at first!" Sam exclaimed, "But apparently the only races they do in there are Leapers. It's kinda a community place? Big meetings, festivals, executions, games, theater, combat trials-"

"Festivals?" Jak was mildly intrigued.

"Executions?!" Daxter was not.

"Yeah man. Though to be fair, there's so many ways to die normally outside the walls that it takes a lot to get the death sentence around here. You have to do something really bad for Lord Damas to kill you himself. Like "engaged in the slave trade" or "abused a kid" or "betrayed the city to enemies" kind of bad. Stuff that dishonors a warrior's name for life. Otherwise he gives you a chance for pardon in combat trials."

Jak squinted up at their temporary roommate. "How...does that work, exactly?"

Sam rolled back onto his mattress with a noncommittal sound.

"Depends on whatcha did I think. Smaller offenses you gotta fight a metalhead. Bigger offenses get you more than one metalhead. If it's bad but not death sentence bad, you fight other Wastelanders who already know how you fight."

"Remind me not to get on these guys' bad sides," Daxter stage-whispered.

"So then why would I enter the Arena if I didn't do anything wrong?" Jak pushed.

"Oh yeah, that's the other thing. Civvy candidates who want to be permanent residents gotta prove they can survive the three main dangers of the Wasteland: enemy shooters, treacherous terrain, and lava. So the king makes us do combat trials simulating those conditions until he's satisfied that we won't like. Immediately die if he lets us outside."

Jak considered this for a moment.

"Fair enough," he decided.

"No??? It's not??" Daxter finished slicing off the last mat and gave Jak an appalled look. "Precisely none of that is normal!"

Jak swept the clumps of hair onto the floor and leaned back to let Daxter continue braiding what was left.

"So...you prove you can handle yourself, and they let you stay?"

Sam reappeared over the rail. "Well, you also gotta prove you're willing to work. They don't like lazy people out here, everybody does at least one thing that keeps Spargus operational, even if it's just sweeping the sand out of the stables -- which is about all they let me do on account of last time-"

"What happened last time?" Daxter asked as he finished tying off three fishbone-braids.

They could almost hear the wince.

"I...kind of...failed so hard at wall patching that I dropped an entire bucket of wet clay on a district representative. He got a concussion. It was bad."

There was a chagrined silence, but then Sam rallied. "So yeah, I'm not allowed near construction equipment anymore and I can't switch chores yet. All kids get maximum one job a day, but you get to pick what you do once you either turn nineteen, or get through the third trial."

Wheels were beginning to turn in Jak’s mind. He'd never given much thought to the future, but what if he just. Didn't go back to Haven? What if the crisis ended and he didn't go back? Might be nice to have a place like this on standby.

"So that what the grouch-in-chief said you're training for?" Daxter asked.

"Yep! Already got my first amulet and gun mod!" Sam said cheerfully. "First full trial hurts like a son-of-a-cob, but at least Scatter rounds are non-lethal."

"No they're not?" Jak sputtered.

"Yes they are?" Sam wrinkled his nose. "Scatterguns are what they give kids and civvy candidates because it's not live ammo?"

"No," Jak argued, "You can definitely kill with Scatter rounds. It just takes like six shots."

Sam stared at him with wide eyes.

"What the rot, dude," he whispered.

"What?!"

"You're telling me you've killed people with a practice gun?!"

"Well- well Haven doesn't know they're practice guns!" Jak defended.

"Okay..." Sam grimaced. "Well. Don't do that in your first trial. Only way anyone is supposed to be able to die is if they try to prioritize hunting an opponent over avoiding lava."

"None of this is making me want to try this Arena thing!" Daxter complained.

"What's the second trial?" Jak ignored Daxter's complaints.

Sam looked a little unsure suddenly. "Yellow eco trial. That's um. That's going to be my first combat to the death. And not many candidates signed up for this month's trial so it's just me and three others against a Marauder crew they captured."

"Marauders?"

"Colonists from the mainland," Sam explained. "They're wannabe Wastelanders and I'm pretty sure they're all insane because they run around out there with no shirts, ever. They also run most of the slave trade between Haven and their colony."

Jak's eyes darkened.

"They're slavers?"

"Yep." Sam shuddered. "I've seen some of the survivors brought back when the Wastelanders raid their camps or when Marauder defectors start a riot. They've been through it. And like half the Arena Guard are survivors of the Marauders, so the ring isn't where you wanna end up if you're a blood merchant."

"It's not the guards they should worry about," Jak muttered darkly. Before Sam could ask what he meant, he looked up. "So if you get through three trials, then what?"

"Full rights as a citizen, same as if you were born here."

There was a glint in Jak’s eyes that only Daxter could see, and it Concerned him.

"Ja-aak, nooo-" Daxter groaned, but he knew it was useless.

"I'll go in with you, when they do the trial," Jak offered. "World could always use one less slaver."

"For real?" Sam raised his brows. "You've only been here a day, dude. You need to do some training before you're ready for that."

"Haven's an active warzone," Jak retorted, "and I got forced onto the frontlines for a year. I'll be fine."

"I mean. If you're sure," Sam relented, "I wouldn't mind the company."

"I would," Daxter grumbled under his breath. "I have some objections!"

So, it turned out, did Damas.

[attapullman]

Morgan, what can you tell me about miss ma’am’s first official date with Bob from Stats? 💁🏼‍♀️ It’s been on my mind and I desperately need to know!

Alexa!! I'm so glad you asked because it also has been on my mind I am so helplessly obsessed with them and his hobby horse so don't mind me getting very carried away.

First off, it's very important to note that since the homecoming barbecue that Bob has talked non-stop about the girl in the green dress. All his brothers have been ribbing him ever since, making the joke on every night out that "maybe she's into cowboys".

So when green dress girl becomes Stats Cutie, the frat house is practically up in arms about him making a move. Beyond lending a pencil.

Once all his roommates confirm that the girl who hasn't left his bedroom in three days is indeed Stats Cutie, the house is abuzz. Especially when he arrives at Monday chapter with his sweatshirt hood at a funny angle to hide the blossoming hickey on his collarbone 👀

After that first Stats class - where you sit side-by-side with indeed another borrowed pencil - he realizes he actually can't wait until Friday to take Stats Cutie out, so he casually asks if you're free tonight. Despite the fact you're way behind on studying, of course you clear your entire schedule.

You meet up at the fountain by the edge of campus at 6, after you've both had a chance to head home and shower. He can't handle how you look even prettier in this sundress, he's actually weak in the knees. And seeing him in a button-up has you drooling - how can he look even better than those beloved crewnecks? As he guides you to your destination, there's a comfortable silence as you subtly check the other out.

Starting off the night is bowling! You rent shoes and talk about how absurdly expensive bowling has become. He's blindsided by how good you are at bowling, already smoking him within the first few frames. Here he is trying to impress you, and you're blowing him away! If he wasn't appreciating how cute your ass looks wiggling in that little dress when you go up for your turn, he'd probably have already dragged you back to his apartment.

After you've absolutely smoked him in two rounds of bowling - a sweet yet passionate kiss by the return shoe counter - he promises loser buys pizza. The greasy pie joint near campus is pretty quiet for a Tuesday night, and he snags a table in the corner. Hours are lost as you talk about classes and potential future careers and how his sister reacted when she realized her hobby horse was missing.

Bob can't quite get over how when you laugh your eyes sparkle before disappearing because your smile is so wide.

You have class in the morning, so he's a gentleman and has you home before midnight. Kissing you against the brick column by the front door of your dorm, telling you what a great night he had. Blushing when you thank him for one of the best dates you've been on. Pizza and bowling was perfect. He's perfect.

It's only when your Resident Advisor knocks on the glass door that he releases you. Reluctantly. Bright red as he kisses your cheek one last time, giving your RA a polite nod and wave before making his way to his apartment.

As he walks home, he's already trying to come up with excuses to see you before Stats on Thursday.

[credince--writes]

mor·tal·i·ty Chapter 3

mor·tal·i·ty Chapter 3

AO3 Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!OC x John "Soap" MacTavish

Hm, well if I knew you were just a civilized person cosplaying as a bum for the brownie points I would’ve been more likely to offer you a shower and shave for that ridiculous thing you have on your face. Maybe even a dog bed in my living room if you're good.”

“Of course I’d be good for you, Miss Camile.”

The air of Malory’s office always had a horrible habit of being stale. No matter what he did- the windows couldn’t open, no, of course not. They wouldn’t risk someone trying to bash their brains against the cement ten floors below. “But sir, you and I both know that I am more well-versed in this position to be delegated the role of assistant -” Camile offered, a last ditch attempt to persuade the older man. Malory sat in his chair, arms tucked in front of him as he stared out the window. All she could see of him was the top of the back of his head, and the back of his office chair. “ Advisor .” He replied.

“Advisor?” She echoed. 

“Technically, your role is advisor.” He spun in his chair, giving her an amused glance. But her eyes lingered on the gray hair, the bags under his eyes, the age worn into his skin from the constant stress and weight of his position. He’d be the first one to say to her “You can only hide so much with an IV line and a day trip to the medspa.” and, she supposed he was right. He looked his age. A death sentence in this industry.

“Never train your downfall. No offense dear, but you don’t exactly scream the type to be gunning for someone’s position. It makes you perfect for this transition. Someone quiet and willing to do the work assigned without the gusto to steal the rug from under them- if that makes much sense. It’s a compliment under all of those layers.”

“He’ll be here momentarily.” He sighed, reaching over to grab hold of the remote that controlled the shade mechanism for his window, sending the shutters to slowly pull themselves over the sunlight. Leaving them to bathe in fluorescents. She nodded, glancing to the door and anxiously tapping on the folder in her hand. “You know,” Malory offers, the wrinkles in his forehead forming as he grimaced for a moment. “Just…” The sound of a knock- three distinct and firm knocks against the office door. His eyes locked with Camiles for a moment, before letting out a breath, closing his eyes and hardening his gaze at the door. “Come in.” In walked a man dressed in a tight fitting, pressed to all hell suit. A dark navy that was nearly black- freshly polished shoes. Neat and styled black hair, dark brown eyes and a narrow, angular face. As soon as he entered the room, she felt his gaze size her up- scanning her from top to bottom- hair to shoe. It made the hair stand up on the back of her neck, if only for a moment before he broke the tension and smiled. A warm, inviting smile- an extended hand. She stood up, watching as He gave a firm handshake to Malory, turning to her and cupping her hand with a light squeeze. 

“Pelant, it’s wonderful to meet you, Miss Ford. Malory has sung your praises on how you’ll be assisting me in the onboarding process.” His voice was confident, warm. Inviting. For a moment, she forgot to let go of his hand- before quickly pulling it back down to her side. Offering back a smile and a nod, “Of course Mister Pelant, I’ve already taken the liberties of preparing these documents for you to help onboard the carryover clients as well as get you acquainted with our current base.”

He nods, taking the folder. 

Maybe, he wouldn’t be too bad. 

=+=

The weekend had finally graced its presence onto the work week, meaning that Camile could finally go to bed on Friday night knowing that she wouldn’t have to wander her way into work in the morning and hear about how the world was falling apart- at least for two more days. As long as no one called her saying that the office was on fire. Then, of course, as an advisor , she’d mock herself mentally, she would be obligated to go and fix the mess. Pelant wasn’t horrible, but he wasn’t Malory. Two days into his acclimation at the firm she could put money on the fact that there was something off about the man. He was never a hair out of place, everything perfect, kind words and sweet talking that at the moment felt like honey could be dripping from his mouth.

He was kind, he gave praise and compliments to the team working under him. In depth analysis of strategies to make the workflow better, introducing and onboarding a file of new clients in a much smoother manner than she’d ever seen. He would even randomly have his assistant swing by and drop off coffee. She’d offer to pay him back twice now, but each time he outright refused, that honey thick tone projecting back to her that “I could never! Take it as a token of my gratitude for being such a great teammate.”

She should be grateful, really. He’d been nothing but kind and supportive. And the praise had tickled the back part of her brain- maybe it was a good arrangement. Maybe Malory was right and this was the perfect setup for her, it complimented her personality. She was meant to help with important things, do important things. From the background . 

Productivity was never the number one goal after coming off of a hard work week, she cleaned a bit, watched some TV, and just tried to relax. Craning her head back to look at the kitchen became a daunting task in itself- and she could never justify the cost of having food delivered. No, that’s just a waste of hard earned cash. She could walk. It’s the city after all- there’s that sushi place she liked not five minutes from here.

Her eyes lingered on her coffee table, the sound of the baking show fading out of her mind and into a low drone in the background. Three little bottles, an empty wine glass, and a box of chocolates sat on the table mocking her. 

One of them was bright green- key lime. Another pink, strawberry lemonade. White plastic labels and lids meant Pina colada. Maybe when she went to grab some food she could swing by the corner store and grab something sweet and light to drink- a bottle of wine. Not the crappy little bottles. She really didn’t have a reason to justify buying them- they should make her sick to smell. She shouldn’t want to buy them, she knows. She knows better.  

Her phone chimed, screen lighting up and a message notification displaying on the screen.

Chris Pelant- 

I’m going to need you to come in, have some documents that need processing before midnight.

She stared at the screen, blinking a few times in disbelief.

She closed the folder, pushing through her office door and making her way through the floor to Pelant’s new office, curtly knocking on his door and breaching the threshold as he called her in. “I’m getting ready to head out for the weekend. Does anything else need to be done?” She asked, smiling at him as he waved her in and motioned for her to sit. “No, we’ve really been crushing it this week, and all thanks to you- you’ve been such a team player! We’re basically caught up for the next month! Enjoy your weekend!”

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes so hard she could hear the strain in her ears. It was just a mishap- these errors always occur. It always happens and it's no one's fault. 

Until it happened the next day.

And the next weekend.

And the next.

She blinks, and she hasn’t had a weekend in two months . 

Because she’s being a team player. Supporting everyone- we couldn’t do it without you! Her vital help to the team, when it’s small things. Processing errors that should’ve been caught days ago- not with him leisurely working on the weekends to ‘catch up on emails’. Who was emailing on Sunday morning at 5am? She wasn’t and the last she checked, there weren’t any foreign clients that would warrant a conversation outside of normal business hours- let alone the normal time zone.

Not many people would be working in the office when she came back, one or two at most. Usually the accountants catch up on billing and input expense receipts. She’d catch the tail end of some guy, always clad in the most downright sinfully tight black suit she’d ever seen- tighter than Pelant’s by far. He’d be dropping off the files Pelant would then hand her, and by the time she’d open the door to her office and try making her way to his, the man would already be in the elevator leaving.

She was tired. To her bones. Her fingers hurt- and she felt bad for even complaining that her fingers hurt. People worked real, hard, manual labor jobs with bone crushing work and she was sniveling and crying over the joints in her fingers. 

It was evening, the sun not yet set but the air cooling from the afternoon sun. The park was quiet, a few people on walks going about their own days and journeys. Her eyes scanned the park, looking for a familiar figure on the bench they seemed to have claimed as their meeting spot.

She stood in front of the bench, eyes glancing over at the trash can with a remnant of one of their previous meetings. Brown paper bag, black plastic back with a horribly printed smiley face on the center of it.

“Ms. Camile! Hard day at work?” 

She nearly jumped out of her skin. She could feel the warmth of his skin behind her, and she turned- craning her neck up to lock eyes with bright blue. Taking a stride backwards and huffing- “You need to stop fucking sneaking up on me, it’s rude.” There was a tang of anger to the end of her words, over the fact that she hadn’t heard him approach. She’d been actively looking for the man yet he still seemed to sneak up on her whenever she went searching for him. “Sorry hen, I forget myself sometimes.” He breathes the words out- and they drip with sweetness. Like maybe syrup- fragrant and warm. “Hiding in the bushes waiting for me again, Johnny?” Camile questions, pushing her hands into her pockets and rolling back onto the heels if her feet. “I was creepin’ in the sewers, actually.” He quips back, letting out a chuckle.

His laughter is rich, and she likes to think that if she’d have closed her eyes, she would lean into it.

“Hm, well you certainly smell like it.” She turns, and starts walking towards the street from the trailhead she’d stepped into. Twenty feet ahead, she turns her head back and watches as he cautiously follows along. “Where're you going?” He asks, jogging for a moment- long legs striding out and catching up in seconds. “I was thinking we’d ditch the bench tonight, and I’d take you out to a proper bar.” 

“Woo’ing the bum now are we?” Johnny smirks, quirking a brow and leaning forward.

“The wind is rather chilly this evening, and I’d like to sit on something other than a rod iron park bench.” She replies bluntly.

+=+

The bar is quaint, a little sticky on the floor and the bartop but if you avoid resting the flesh of your forearms or let your feet linger in one spot too long it’s not hard to ignore. It’s warm, which is what she was shooting for. The office seemed to always be in a perpetual state of cold- layering sweaters and jackets only did so much, the tip of her nose a barely there dusting of rosey red when she checked her rearview mirror every night getting in her car to drive back home.

“So you’re working like dog.” He agrees to her rambling. 

She nods, leaning back on her barstool and reeling the old leather cushion press up against her back as she stares up at the ceiling. Photos tacked to the peeling paint and exposed wood- the occasional dollar bill or twenty tacked over photos, polaroids or newspaper clippings.

“And he’s so nice.” She groans. “I can’t say no. He’s nothing but nice- and I’d be letting everyone down if I didn’t go in and help.”

“But why can’t it be done during the week?” He questions.

“I… I don’t know. I think it’s a finicky client. Bringing in shit late- and to a certain point, when you're bringing in millions for someone like us to play with… We let them turn shit in late.” 

Johnny hums, taking a sip from his drink- something like a Scotch and Soda. She’d be sure to glance at the receipt when she paid to see what the man actually liked to drink outside of the sad offerings she’d bring to their little picnics.

“Sounds shady if you ask me.” He adds, finishing off his drink and signaling to the bartender for a refill. The bartender gives them a look that borders on disgust, the both of them pointedly ignoring how there's a three seat gap from the nearest person sitting near them. And no one has approached the empty chairs to fill them. 

“We’re a private equity firm. Everything we do is shady.” Camile laughs, rubbing the backside of her hand against her tired eyes. The screens and small print on paper certainly doesn't help, maybe the buzz isn’t helping either.

“What even is private equity?” He asks, his knees turning with him in the seat has he turns to face her. 

She can feel the heat radiating off of his legs- lingering on the feeling of warmth and fighting the instinct to slink closer. “No one knows. I have yet to get anyone to actually explain it.”

“Hm.”

“Mmmhm.”

They sit, and drink in a comfortable silence for a while longer, before Camile breaks the silence, glancing over to the large mans frame and asking, “Why are you homeless?” For a moment, she fully expects the facade of weird friendship she's built to completely crumble. For her to have to run to the bathroom and lock herself in a stall until she can call the cops to arrest the freak sitting next to her. A murderer- someone who slaughtered people for money. Maybe an ex foreign agent- the accent hadn’t escaped her mind. Maybe just a sad, washed up junkie was a velvety tongue and biceps she was pretty sure could crush a cantaloupe-

“I’m not homeless. I’m just a bum.” 

She stares at him dumbfounded for a moment. “...What?”

“I have… Had a home. I can go home any time, but I can’t go back there.” He offers, the glass in his right hand fills the confusion in her head with the sound of ice clinking against glass.

“So… You have a home. A shower? You have a shower, and a tub, and a sink, and a washer where you could go… not reek?” She offers, eyes squinting. 

“I sneak back sometimes. If I'm really desperate. Sometimes I just sweet talk women into letting me into their homes for a S&S.” His smile has faltered, and his gaze is hard set on the bartop. Eyeing the grain of the polished wood as if it were holy words.

“S&S?” 

“Shag & Shower.” 

“You’re a dog.” She groans.

“Good dogs get bubble baths.” 

She makes a face crossed with surprise and disgust, and for a moment she’s no longer the bone tired advisor of a convoluted department with mister honey & ‘can you come in on the weekend and be a team player!’ she’s just… Camile.

“You… Sneak back into your own place?” She asks.

“It’s complicated.” He offers. “I haven’t been back there in months.”

Something goes unsaid for a moment. That he’s hiding, running from something and hoping the shadow doesn't catch up with him. She purses her lips before finishing off her drink and setting the cool glass down onto the coaster, watching as the condensation collects and rolls down the ridged glass. 

“Hm, well if I knew you were just a civilized person cosplaying as a bum for the brownie points I would’ve been more likely to offer you a shower and shave for that ridiculous thing you have on your face. Maybe even a dog bed in my living room if you're good.” 

She's focusing so hard on a bottle on the shelf, not daring to glance over and meet those horribly blue eyes. It’s a bottle of Titos. Good ol’ Titos. She can focus on the clear liquid and the very interesting writing as long as she doesn't break her neck trying to meet his gaze. 

She’s toeing a fine line. A dangerous line. Even though she knows this man she doesn't really know him. Doesn’t know who he is- what he’s done. There’s a reason he’s sleeping on park benches and surprising her from the bushes to drink long into the evening. There’s a reason he has a home and isn’t going back to it. The red flags are up, the alarms are blasting.

But she can’t seem to hear them, nor see them over the wonderful liquid continued in that Titos bottle.

“If I’m good?” She can hear the smirk in his voice, and she will not break. Will. Not. Will not glance over. 

A warm hand engulfs the width of her thigh and spins the chair to the side, and she’s no longer staring intently at the little logo on the glass bottle. She’s staring into blue eyes. Her throat is tight, and it takes a moment for her to swallow before nodding in agreement.

“Of course I’d be good for you, Miss Camile.” She swallows. 

“Then let me pay our tab, and I’ll take you home.”

As she stands, his hand slides up from her thigh, to her side, and up into the pocket of her jacket. Reaching in and pulling out the long end of one of her keys and dancing the chain. Fingers pinched on the end- hands so much larger than her own, making the keys seem like toys. 

“I’ll drive.” He adds. “You’re lookin’ like you’re feeling pretty good right now.”

“You’ve been drinking just as much as I-” “Switched to just soda after the first.”

His grin is shit eating, but she finds no malice in it.

She finds nothing but warmth and the sweet scent of syrup leading her onward. And a raging buzz.

[hummingbird-of-light]

In Our Favor

Part 157

McCoy

Tea had been laid out in the queen’s sitting room and David led the way with Eleanor. McCoy had grinned at Scotty before offering his own arm to Francine. Scotty had rolled his eyes at his husband and followed along with Granddad. Sarek and Amanda and Dr. Boyce came next.

And Leah with Robbie walked in the middle of everyone.

McCoy had squeezed his sister carefully after she had stepped from the car that had brought her home and the king had embraced her. Though she moved easily, her face was still a few shades paler than normal and her eyes hinted at tiredness and a new wariness.

He hadn’t known how truly worried he had been until Leah had pulled him tight as well. A second rush of relief had washed over McCoy and for a moment his legs trembled. He whispered a few words to Leah before releasing her again.

“When do you have to go back?” Leah asked, looking at McCoy.

He glanced at David, then Scotty before looking back at his sister.

“We’re going to fly back tomorrow evening,” he answered. “Have to finish up doing your work you know.” McCoy smirked. “You’re still on sick leave.”

Leah rolled her eyes at him, then her expression turned serious. “You haven’t missed anything important have you? At school?”

“Not really.” McCoy shook his head. “I probably have a quiz on Friday, but Eugene will let me know what to be prepared for.”

“I turned in my last project early,” Scotty added.

“I wouldn’t want to put you behind,” Leah said. “Or you,” she turned to look at Robbie next to her.

“Yer well being is more important than a test or project,” Scotty said, reassuringly, and the other two boys nodded.

“Thank you,” Leah said softly.

Dr. Boyce turned from Alasdair to look at Leah as he heard the quiet voice.

“Princess, if you’re done with tea, you should probably get some rest,” he said.

“I feel fine,” Leah protested.

“I’m sure you do,” Dr. Boyce conceded. “But your body went through a lot of stress the last few days. I wouldn’t have my favorite patient overdo it and set herself back.”

“Ok,” Leah relented.

“And I have some work to attend to about all of this,” David said, setting down his cup. He looked at Sarek and Dr. Boyce before glancing at McCoy.

The prince's chest tightened with the knowledge of what work his father meant. With the head of his security and his best advisor, David was planning to go to the security center that was holding Leah’s attackers. McCoy knew nothing he could say would change the king’s mind. Nor did he want to say anything in front of Mother or Leah. Mother would worry and Leah would want to go. Better to keep quiet.

“Leah rests, David works; boys do you have a plan?” Eleanor asked.

“We have some homework to catch up on probably,” McCoy said.

“And a couple calls to make,” Scotty added.

“I think I might have a rest as well,” Granddad said.

“Then it’s us ladies,” Eleanor smiled at Francine and Amanda. “We can plan a wonderful dinner for this evening. A good meal to put us all right.”

“We’ll look forward to it,” David said as he stood. He stepped over to the queen and leaned down to give her a kiss, before he said his goodbyes to the others and left the room.

“Is yer father going now?” Scotty asked quietly as he and McCoy made their way to their room.

“What?”

“I felt the tension in ye when he said he had work to do.”

McCoy nodded and glanced over his shoulder. They were alone in the hall.

“Yes. He’s going now.” He sighed. “I wish he wasn’t.”

“Do- do ye want to go with him?”

“No!” McCoy said firmly. “I don’t want to see those people. They can rot in that center for all I care. And I know that isn’t princely of me, but they attacked my sister.”

“It’s alright Len, I understand,” Scotty said soothingly.

McCoy opened their door and held it for Scotty before firmly closing it behind them.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“We can check in with the others about assignments and that later, but let’s get Christine taken care of. I’m sure she’s more than ready to hear from us,” Scotty said. He squeezed McCoy’s arm before crossing the room.

“Ok,” McCoy agreed and followed him.

Part 158

Scotty

"There you are at last! I thought you wouldn't call at all!" Even though Christine's voice sounded extremely indignant, Scotty and Leonard knew that she was just worried. The look on her face said it clearly.

She was sitting alone in her room, having probably just finished some homework.

"Sorry, Chris, we just wanted to wait until Leah got back home," Leonard explained apologetically and Christine's eyes widened.

"So she's really back home? I wasn't sure if all the articles were true. There's so much written. I'd rather rely on you as sources."

Scotty smiled gently. They both knew that Christine would treat any information discreetly. They could speak freely with her.

"Aye, she arrived here a few hours ago. She's doing well under the circumstances. Robbie won't leave her side."

Christine nodded understandingly.

"I can imagine that. How is he? It must have been so bad for him."

"He's calmed down again. Knowing Leah's all right is all that matters to the lad."

Scotty had watched his brother very closely during tea and had seen that, although everything had taken its toll on him, he looked much better than he had just the day before.

"And how are you two?"

Leonard and Scotty exchanged a quick glance and the Scotsman squeezed his husband's hand, which was lying in his lap.

"Much better now that we know everything's going to be okay," Leonard replied, but Scotty sensed that he was still clearly tense about the situation with David.

Scotty would have liked to go to the king himself and tell him how risky he thought the action was, but he knew that ultimately it was none of his business. David knew what he was doing. And fortunately he wasn't alone. With Sarek and Dr. Boyce by his side, there shouldn't be any problems.

"How could all this even happen? I've read so many versions..."

Time passed quickly while the boys told Christine about what had happened. They hadn't been there themselves, but Robbie had filled them in, after all.

Christine also seemed to find it hard to believe that such a thing could be done to Leah. She had seen the danger members of the royal family could get into, having been one of Leonard and Scotty's rescuers herself, but a poison attack like this was something else entirely. Especially when it was carried out by Georgiarian residents.

A knock at the door interrupted the conversation and Leonard got up to see who it was. Scotty was surprised to see that it was a servant who wanted to inform the couple that dinner was almost ready.

Apparently they had completely forgotten the time during the phone call. Scotty glanced at the clock and realized that two hours had already passed.

"We'll be right there," Scotty heard Leonard's reply. The door quickly closed and the prince rejoined him.

"People are asking for us, Chris."

Christine just smiled understandingly.

"It's fine. I should finish my chores now too and then slowly make my way to dinner. I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Aye."

"Yes."

They said their quick goodbyes and then made their way downstairs. Scotty was curious to see if David would say anything about his work. They could only hope that there would be no further problems.

[sourholland]

the royal convenience was one of the best fanfictions i’ve ever read, i swear😩 they are just so cute🥺 can you write a blurb of prince!tom being away from reader the whole day so when he comes to the room at night he’s just so cuddly and just want to hold and kiss her and say that he loves her all the time??

friday night blurbs & drabbles!

a/n: i switched this up just a bit, but it has a similar premise and i hope you like it!

a royal convenience blurb - i highly suggest reading the series before you read this

Tom was in Dublin for an extended tour of about a fortnight. He was expected to be home anytime now, having spent his two weeks taking care of royal affairs and such. It was odd that you hadn’t accompanied him, but it seemed wrong to leave the boys back for so long.

At five and three, you knew it was already hard enough being away from their parents so much. Leaving for Ireland was the last thing you’d wished to do, and frankly it caused quite an uproar among your advisors.

Sitting off in the parlor connected to yours and Tom’s shared bedroom, you enjoyed the quiet evening with Alexander sitting by your feet and James on the chair across from you. It was late, far later than most would have let them stay up. You were all dressed for sleep, a white nightgown hanging to your ankles.

“Your hair is getting quite long, Lex,” you murmured, running a hand through his brown hair that curled up at the nape of his neck. “You look a lot like Paddy when he was younger.”

“I like my hair, mama,” he said quietly.

James came over, peaking over the edge of the table at the two crowns sitting on plush velvet pillows. They belonged to you and Tom, needing to be taken away to prevent them from being damaged. His was much larger and far more aged looking, yours had more crests with a smaller and more dainty look to it.

His small hand reached up and just barely grazed it, pulling it back after a second and looking to you. He had a mischievous grin on his face, unruly hair and a baggy white sleep gown.

“Do you want me to put it on you, Jamie?” You asked him teasingly.

He shook his head no immediately, looking away in a fit of giggles bashfully. Shaking your head, you reached over and brushed his cheek affectionately. James looked the most like you, sharing some of your features and definitely having more of your personality.

“What about you, Alexander?” You asked, looking down at his face being illuminated by the warm flames of the fire.

He was weary, almost ready to have the same reaction as his brother. He knew he’d inherit the throne someday, he’d already begun his long and drawn out lessons of the monarchy. It was quite sad to you, the fact that his future was defined by this monarchy. The crown would land on his head, the same way it did Tom’s.

“I suppose,” he said simply in his exceedingly articulate tone.

Picking up the heavy crown carefully, you set it down onto his head cautiously and tried to angle it so it wouldn’t fall over his eyes. It was far too big still, but with time he’d grow into it. Standing up straight, you saw a lot of Tom in him when he looked at you and gave that sweet smile that you knew so well.

“How do I look, mama?” He questioned.

“Like royalty,” you teased him with a gasping laugh.

“This has got to be some sort of treason!” An all too familiar voice sounded jokingly from behind you.

Turning immediately, you felt a large smile break out across your face. Tom was standing at the archway of the door, coat jacket thrown over his shoulder and hat off. His eyes were tired, but so was he. James shot up immediately, running into his arms the moment he saw him.

“Papa!” He shouted, small arms wrapping around his neck.

“I’ve missed you, darling,” he told him. “You, your brother, and mama.”

Pulling away, Tom came over with James’s hand in his own and stood before Alexander who was much shorter but still wearing his father’s crown. Sinking down to his level, he embraced him for a few moments and kissed his cheek.

“Here,” he said as he pulled the crown off of his head and set it to the side. “You’ll have plenty of time to wear that heavy old thing.”

Tom looked over at you, smiling and conveying so much with so little as a word. He held the boys tightly, leaning over and pulling you into his arms as well for a second or two.

Taking the small silver bell at your side, the jangle of it sent a noise through the room and into the hall. A young servant girl came in a minute later, you recalled her name quite easily as she helped a lot with the boys.

“Why don’t you two head down to the kitchen with Edwina and get something to eat. I’ll come down in a few minutes, then I’ll put you to bed,” you told them. “Lex, you take the candle and hold Jamie’s hand so he doesn’t wander off in the dark somewhere.”

Alexander knew his way around the palace pretty well by now, he was far more intuitive than you’d imagined for someone of his age. He took his brother’s hand and the silver platter holding the burning candle and left a moment later.

“How was Ireland?” You asked Tom.

“Dreadful, I’ve never been more miserable being away my family for such an extended period. To hell with everyone, next time we all go,” he said willfully.

Sinking down from the chair you were sat in, you came to his spot on the floor he’d taken up while speaking with the boys. He kissed you with a longing feeling, peppering soft kisses on your cheeks and temples. You ran a hand through his hair, foreheads leaned against each other.

“I love you,” you said to him. “And I’ve missed you far too much.”

Kissing you again, he wrapped his arms around you and buried his head in your neck. It was nice to be back to normalcy, to his being home and not far.

“I love you,” he whispered in a muffled voice.

[zadenwillowfyre]

Devil's Gambit - Chapter 1

Day 2 of writing every day.

Down and out Gabe Mosse makes an usual deal with a beautiful yet sinister stranger...

The eyes with which Gabe Mosse regarded his boss glass over with apathy. Mr. McMannus had given the same, hackneyed speech for at least as long as Gabe had been under his employ. Gabe lets the words fall on deaf ears, he's heard it all before anyway, and could probably recite it from memory. The importance of “team work”, “company loyalty,” and “client satisfaction”.

It wasn’t that Gabe disliked the job, and he had certainly worked for far worse bosses. But lately, he felt like a bit like a juggler who’d been tossed one ball too many and worrying about investments that made already rich people richer had become increasingly more difficult.

"You turned in your portfolio for the Davis account yesterday," Mr. McMannus droned obviously, at last getting to the point of this little meeting, "It was two weeks late."

The glass shattered behind Gabe's eyes. "I know sir, I apologize. You know my father’s been-"

"Our clients don't care about your father, or any other excuses," barked Mr. McManus with a dismissive wave, "This is a very big account, Mosse. I had hoped to see some initiative. Especially after 6 years here."

"Of course," sighed Gabe defeatedly, "I'll be sure to have the next account in on time."

Mr. McMannus seemed to soften with what might be pity and said, "There won't be a next time son, I'm going to have to let you go."

Hardly surprising, this turn of events; Gabe had been a solid but not stand-out employee. He was okay at his job, but apparently not good enough to make up for the last few months of increasingly shoddy work and missed deadlines. Sick relative excuses didn’t make investors money, even if they were true. No, it wasn’t surprising, but it still stung.

With a sad nod, Gabe, the now ex investment advisor, rose from his seat to leave.

"I am sorry, Gabe. You had such promise."

Gabe offered no response as he shut the door behind him, though he held no bitterness towards the mostly kind, but droll man who had just fired him. Promises were all to often left broken and in the end, the evidence of 6 years of those broken promises and service to the same institution, all fit so neatly into a small cardboard box nestled safely in the trunk of a Ford Focus.

----

By the time the Focus rolled out of the parking lot of Hanson and McMannus Investments, its dashboard clock read 5:15.

"Typical," murmured Gabe to himself. They let him work nearly a full day on a Friday before kicking him to the curb.

He had until 5:45 to meet his Realtor, then a date at 7. No time for the rush hour traffic that inevitably bared his progress across town.

Despite being fired, he was looking forward to seeing the prospective house, even with his chances of being able to afford the place now drastically reduced. Maybe the day wouldn’t be a total loss.

At 245 Belman, Barb Lucas, Realtor, was already waiting. She was a hefty, joyful woman with amber hair, and a winning smile that could sell even the most polluted water to the finickiest germophobic whale.

Barb sung the praises of each room as if she were giving a tour of a stately historical mansion. In reality, the house resembled a cottage and offered modest accommodations, which Gabe didn't mind. The living room was spacious, kitchen in working order, two and a half baths. It was certainly nice enough, and the guest rooms would come in handy if his father's health continued the way it had.

Gabe hoped it wouldn't come to that.

The tour didn't take long and as expected, the asking price was well over double what the house is worth. At hearing the price, Gabe’s heart gave a small clinch. He supposed he would have to come clean to Barb about loosing his job, but when he tried to find the words, he found he couldn’t. Not just yet.

"I can do $75,000," said Gabe instead. He didn't really expect the offer to hold at a far cry from the 100k the owners wanted, "You said its been on the market a while, right?"

Barb eyed him dubiously, "Yes, but even so, I seriously doubt the owners will accept an offer that far below asking."

"The worst they can say is no," said Gabe, not quite able to lighten the heaviness in his voice.

Barb kept Gabe under her gaze for moment longer. Her face was less jovial than before the tour, disappointment or worse, pity, marred her expression.

“Sorry, I know I’ve been a difficult client,” Gabe offered lamely

Barb hitched her winning smile back on her face before patting Gabe on the arm, “We’ll find something. I’ll keep looking.”

Gabe shot his wary realtor an appreciative smile as they departed for their cars. They had been on this hunt a good 4 months with financial restrictions making the search a hard one. Though he had managed to put enough in savings for a small down payment, an investment consultant makes considerably less than what he makes for his clients. An unemployed investment consultant makes even less.

Gabe watched Barb drive away before starting his own journey home. It had been yet another disappointing venture on top of an already shitty day.

Oh well.

He supposed another few months (he was being optimistic here) at Hell's Apartments wouldn’t kill him.

Besides, he had a date tonight. Maybe the day would at least end on a high note, though he had his doubts.

----

If Gabe had to describe his dating life, no other phrase but “abject failure” would do. Sure, he looked good on paper and could be charming enough to get a first date, but he found it difficult to connect enough with most people to light any type of spark. Men, women, those who fell elsewhere on the gender spectrum, it didn’t matter. There were no second dates. But he kept trying, because, apparently he was a glutton for punishment. Which was why he found himself in the drive of possibly the biggest house he’d ever seen, waiting for his current date to arrive.

Susan Rockefeller was as expensive as her name. The veritable mansion she pranced out of was enough to tell Gabe that. Sleek black dress with raven locks done to match, diamond necklace, and high heel shoes; she's dressed for a horse and carriage to take her to a gourmet meal at a 5 star restaurant with a debonair gentleman decked in Armani.

All Gabe had to offer was his dinged up Focus, a moderately priced meal at his favorite eatery, and himself. An average man in a cheap suit with curly Jewish hair and glasses. He was beginning to feel grossly inadequate.

Susan entered the car with great flourish and a measure of disappointment she did little to disguise. She exudes power. No doubt, Gabe has been oversold to her by the mutual friend who set them up.

Set up indeed. He had to wonder which one of them was meant to be the butt of this joke.

"Ash said you worked in investing or something?" The question seemed more like an accusation.

You sure don't look like someone how works with money.

"Oh...yeah," Gabe confirmed evasively, "Bennie Hanna's alright?"

It wasn't but she gave no alternative. Gabe suspected that under her confident and strong exterior, was someone who preferred to be led, told what to do.

The car ride was awkward and uncomfortable. Dinner, was doubly so.

Beyond being rich and stunningly beautiful, Susan proved to be not very interesting at all. But perhaps that's because she wasn't very interested in her Gabe, whom she all but ignored.

Instead, she overtly flirted with with the owner of the establishment, who, after coming over to check that their experience was satisfactory, personally oversaw the needs of their table for the rest of the evening.

At least the food is good Gabe mused to himself.

When the check came, Susan was sure to provide the overly attentive owner her number while Gabe provided the credit card.

Cutting the date mercifully short, Gabe returned a Susan home that was much happier than the one he had picked up. Though he knew it wasn’t because she had enjoyed his company.

----

Outside Hell's Apartments, or Stone Creek Condos as they are more commonly called, Gabe indulged in a vice he quit 5 years ago. Long drags let the menthol tobacco work its magic, soothing Gabe's weary mind and wounded ego. He took some comfort in imagining his problems billowing away with the smoke.

All too soon he flicked the butt of his cigarette to the pavement, resisting the urge to inhale the whole pack.

Stretching laboriously, Gabe entered the apartment building and made a stop at the mailboxes near the far end of the lobby.

"Evening," a deep masculine voice said.

Startled, Gabe turned in the direction of the voice. The speaker was a tall, broad shouldered man with strong features. He looked to be around Gabe’s age; late 30’s, maybe a bit older. His black suite and red tie clearly stated that he could afford nicer places than this. He was also devastatingly handsome in a way that made a gentle heat rise to Gabe’s cheeks.

After a beat, Gabe acknowledged the greeting with a halfhearted nod-and-smile. How did he miss this man coming in?

"Quite a day, no?" Probed the stranger.

Collecting his pile of bills and assorted junk mail, Gabe gave a noncommittal noise of agreement. What was this guy’s deal?

"What if there was a way to make your problems disappear?"

Gabe wished he could make this sexy but increasingly creepy man disappear.

"I know of your troubles, Gabe Mosse. Of the burdens you bear."

Gabe thought briefly of booking it up the stairs that stood adjacent to the mail area and locking himself in the sanctuary of his dilapidated apartment, no matter how hot this wierdo was. But something in the man's aura kept him still.

"Very clever, reading my name off my mail over my shoulder," Gabe accused snidely, though he had a sinking feeling the stranger hadn't done anything of the sort, "What do you want?"

"I'm only offering to help a man who can't seem to catch a break."

Getting creepier and creepier all the time. Gabe tried to convince himself that this was just some crazy person, but intuition knew otherwise. "Who are you?"

"Just a concerned friend. Many call me Luci, but I have many names."

"Riiight," said Gabe sarcastically, "Your name is Luci and you want to help me." He was definitely being punked.

"An apt summarization," crooned Luci.

Gabe rolled his eyes. Intuition be damned, this conversation had turned insane. "And what? Let me guess...all my problems disappear in return for my soul."

Something in Luci's grin, in the way he sneered at Gabe’s jibe, was deeply unsettling. "Actually, I'm trying something new these days. Humans are far too reckless with their own souls. That old game has rather lost its charm for me. Its more amusing to watch things unfold when another person's soul is at steak. The things people are willing to do to get ahead. Or the lengths one goes to to retract their offers and save their loved ones. It makes for a much more exciting gamble."

"Who's soul exactly then?" Whispered Gabe, mouth dry, shocked and appalled at entertaining this lunatic's ravings.

"Could be anyone. Someone close, or someone you don't know at all. A murderer even. Not knowing is part of the fun. For me anyway."

More than the unsavory subject of their conversation, Gabe was bothered by the depressing realization that it brought. It had been years sense he'd been truly happy. A dead end boring job he had just lost, countless dates gone bad, a hole in the wall place to call home, no prospects, no purpose, no fulfillment. Not to mention the worry over his father’s heath seemed to compound it all. It seemed so self pitying, but it was almost enough to bring him too his knees.

"I see it in your eyes," said Luci earnestly, "You yearn for something more."

This was ridiculous. Nothing but drivel from an oddly perceptive crazy man.

"Sir, if you really did have way to make my life better, I'd personally hand you any soul of your choice." Gabe jeered, trying to seem flippant and unaffected by Luci’s presence.

Luci’s sneered broadened into an evil, disconcerting expression that seemed to distort his handsome features into something sinister. "I see we have an accord."

Reaching out, Luci shook Gabe's hand.

Oddly electric that handshake.

"Yeah, what ever, guy."

Gabe retracted his hand, shaking off the static sensation, and started up the stairs.

By the time he looked back, the stranger named Luci was gone.

He also noticed the faint sent of smoke, likely just from his cigarette.

[ofhouseadama]

could I dm you this? yes. but also asks are fun even though this question is mean so. how do Ed and Lorraine react to the Vietnam war?

Okay so my Ed and Lorraine are absolutely Kennedy Democrats, are both very excited and enthusiastic about the first Catholic president, but both are against the Vietnam War and US military intervention from the start. Ed's already fought in one imperialist proxy war, he's got the PTSD to prove it, and Lorraine just is truly repulsed by violence of any kind.

And also like, to go completely left field for a minute -- I've been thinking a lot about how teenage Lored were effectively trapped at 17-19 years old. Mostly financially, and in different ways. in 1951, Lorraine wouldn't have been able to have her own bank account. Women wouldn't have the right to open their own bank account until the 60s or have a credit card until the 70s -- her money would have been her father's, effectively. and while probably not maliciously, since she was a young woman she likely wouldn't have had much access to her pay checks unless she was cashing them directly. Ed, meanwhile, while trying to survive a negligent/abusive household, absolutely would have been spending money on things most teens wouldn't have to in order to survive... and that's before getting the draft notice from the Selective Service, which took away even more control of his own life.

So I see Ed and Lorraine getting married young (even for the 50s, they're a few years younger than the median, though the war was actively driving that age down) mostly out of making the most out of what they could together. Ed putting Lorraine on his bank accounts and asking her actively to manage them while he's away, and her depositing her paychecks into his account would give her more financial control in her life than most women of the era. Lorraine's engagement ring (the size of that goddamn rock) is even an insurance policy most women her age and demographic didn't have -- often when women fled marriages, it was only with their jewelry to sell. It's half about Ed's possessive streak, half him showing he's not afraid to give her the money to run, if she needed to.

Anyway -- the trauma of their late teens and early twenties is entirely rooted in the rising Cold War anxieties and the locus of harm done to women in the 50s and I fully see their pursuit of demonology and the supernatural as something Lorraine initially started while working as a secretary for the Diocese, something she did to stay late at work and help people she could physically reach while Ed was away at war. She initially started staying late on the days she knew Father Gordon would be bringing in a scared family or terrified couple or frightened soul in through the back door hours after everyone had left, staying to pray and keep herself nearby, to be an observer to a fight she could be party to. Father Gordon figures her out quickly, of course, asking what interest she has in demons and exorcisms, and figures out she's clever with records and archives, almost to an uncanny degree.

And then figures out to exactly what uncanny degree.

After Ed came home and became the husband instead of the boyfriend, it turned into something Ed could throw all his metaphorical demons onto and a healthy way to exercise his control issues and fear and anxiety that doesn't (generally) affect Lorraine because she's fighting with him side by side in this, when before they were separated by thousands of miles -- the beginning everyone's favorite Catholic battle couple very much rooted in Ed and Lorraine parsing out who brought home metaphorical demons from the war, and who brought home literal ones, and bringing them to Father Gordon when necessary. Rooted in Ed needing to be useful, to dusting off his Catholic school Latin and reading everything he could get his hands on so that he could continue to help, continue to fight.

Lorraine would have been pregnant with Judy during the heightening tensions with Cuba and as Kennedy is sending more and more military "advisors" to Vietnam and Cold War tensions flared the hottest they'd get in the 1960s and I can just see both of their control issues revving up, especially with a few-months-old baby in the mix. Just the two of them laying bed, looking down at their three month old baby girl, wondering if they'd all get nuked tomorrow. If war would be declared tomorrow. If they'd all be dead, if they brought her into the world just to die violently. It's like taking guns off the street. They can't control the White House, or the Soviets, or Cuba or China or or or -- but they know about demons, they know about spirits, they know about taking these bombs off the battlefield, in the war of good against evil, and this is a war they can be foot soldiers in together.

Lorraine would get a bit of relief in the March of '63 when Kennedy dropped married men with children to the bottom of the draft pool, and then dropped the age of the draft pool to 26, aging Ed out of the Selective Service entirely. And then in November, JFK would be assassinated, and the photo of Jackie Kennedy covered in blood, leaving the hospital hand-in-hand with RFK, would be on the front page of every newspaper in the country. It would be a jolt for both of them -- but it wouldn't fully hit Lorraine until seven years later, when she'd have her first vision of Ed's death and fully understand Jackie Kennedy's weary, "I want them to see what they have done to Jack."

After the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution in August of 1964, they fully throw themselves into taking cases almost full time. As the war heats up, Ed pulls back from teaching art classes at the VA. If he spends too much time there, he has to face how pointless the violence has been. If he spends too much time there, now, he has to face that he still doesn't know why he survived. Why he lived, and everyone else on board the ship with him died. Because he still doesn't know, he still is fighting to make his life matter in a way that makes sense to him. All he has is his sense of duty, a couple of college credits, and his hands. On good days, he knows that he's loved -- that Lorraine loves him so much it makes it hurt to breathe, that he's a good father to his daughter, who will never be afraid of him.

Ed has a complete PTSD relapse in 1966, with the beginning of the ground war and the full-throated resurgence of the American propaganda machine and military recruitment. He's back in the guilt spiral, the "I never had it that bad, I was only in the Navy for two years, I never had it that bad," just feeding into "why did I live when everyone else I fought with died," back and forth until he can't sleep, can only sleep when Judy sleeps, accidentally ends up adapting himself to her nap schedule and has to sleep with his hand on her chest, feeling her breathe.

Lorraine calls in Chief, after Ed can't get out of bed for 72 hours and misses mass for the first time in his life. Chief, who comes up from Brooklyn to remind Ed of the time their entire ship exploded and Ed treaded water for eight hours and everyone else died. How they spent the next six months getting drunk whenever they weren't on duty and picking fights they couldn't get out of, and that one time they got thrown in the brig because Chief struck a superior asshole and Ed just followed him into the fight. (No, Lorraine does not know about that time Ed and Chief ended up in the brig. She will never know about that time. Judy will at some point in her early 20s learn about that time, when she needs to learn about how her parents are people, who have absolutely made mistakes in their lives.) "You and I spent six months drunk," Chief says, bouncing Judy on his knee in the kitchen over a cup of coffee, Ed refusing to look at him as he deep cleans the stove. "And then your dad died, and your sainted wife handled everything for you, and we realized we couldn't send you home to her like that."

"I still don't know why I lived."

Chief shrugs. "It doesn't matter why, son. The same reason any of us live, and any of us die. It doesn't matter. You have a little girl now who depends on you. She matters more than any goddamn reason -- you live for her, and your saint of a wife, and for all the people that you help. So that you can look them in the face, say you've been down in the hole that they're in now, and you know the way out."

Lorraine calls in Chief, because she absolutely picked a fight after mass that day without Ed, with Judy on her hip. Overheard Dorothy O'Malley running her mouth in the pew in front of her sounding like a national security ghoul and didn't even think before she opened her mouth and unloading the full force of her anxiety and anger on her. Only stops because she feels a gentle hand on her shoulder and Father Gordon murmuring in her ear, "Okay Mrs. Warren, you've made your point," while leading her away. It's the "Mrs. Warren" instead of the familiar "Lorraine" that jolts her back to herself, kissing Judy's head as she tries to shake herself out of it.

"Thank you," she tells Father Gordon, defeated.

He shrugs. "You don't come to confession until before Friday night prayer service. I didn't want you stewing on this all week." Pausing, he takes a moment to fondly tug on one of Judy's pig tails, making her laugh. "If Ed's not... feeling well, I know about that."

Lorraine bites her lip, knowing full and well that Father Gordon served as a chaplain in World War II. That seeing the violence of the Nazis firsthand is what convinced him that the Devil was more than a metaphor, that evil truly walked the Earth. Sent him on his own path, chasing darkness.

Lorraine nods.

"I could talk to him," Father Gordon says. "But it would likely come better from someone he served with."

When she gets home, she finds Chief's number in their phone book, and calls Brooklyn for the first and last time. He comes up the next day, and shoos her out of the house to do something for herself for the first time in months, telling her that he's more than equipped to look after a single three year old.

Ed goes back to teaching at the VA a few months after that, teaching art to the new round of mentally scarred children returning from war. He concedes to group therapy, and a few sessions with the VA psychiatrist to get something to take the edge off. He teaches at the VA until the troop withdrawals in 1970, reducing his class load as he and Lorraine take on more and more cases -- verging towards a hundred a year -- for the Catholic Church, and the media attention that comes along with that, the publicity engagements that help keep their bills paid, the articles and academic talks.

Even still, Ed occasionally brings home someone for dinner, just to make sure that they've only brought metaphorical demons home from war with them, not literal ones.

Sometimes it's literal ones.

[kiki-shortsnout]

I’m sending you a million prompts! #24 teasing for Frostironstrange! 💚❤️💙 Thanks!

No problem! I've having fun writing all these small pieces! Thank you so much for the prompt!

~~~~

Tony threw his pen down onto the table, making it clatter as loudly as he could to show his annoyance. Fury ignored it, fixing him with an unimpressed stare before turning back to his holographic presentation. He hated meetings, did anything he could to avoid them. SHIELD briefings, Avenger meetings, hours of listening to Stark Industry shareholders, he dodged them all.

Anything. He’d rather be doing anything else.

Alright, that wasn’t strictly true, Tony had no problems with the Avenger briefings, or their informal troubleshooting meetings where they discussed how they were going to deal with future villains. Tony’s favorite meetings, the ones he never missed, were about the new recruits they were teaching. Something had been unearthed in Tony ever since he’d been mentoring Peter, a nurturing advisor side that he’d never been aware of.

That was what Fury had lured him here with, the promise that they’d highlighted some interesting individuals to bring into the fold. As soon as Tony had pushed his way through the glassy black doors of the conference room, spotting Stephen sitting on one of the pristine leather office chairs, Tony had tried to back out of the room, stopping only when Stephen hissed out his name.

Making his displeasure known with every plodding footstep, Tony had thrown himself into a chair opposite the wizard, slumping over on the huge oval table between them. The only silver lining in this boring bureaucratic meeting was the fact Loki had teleported in part of the way through, apologizing on behalf of Valkyrie and the citizens of New Asgard for his tardiness, pulling out the chair beside Stephen and sitting.

Apart from Stephen’s initial command that Tony stay here, neither of his lovers had acknowledged his presence, both avidly listening to Fury’s monotonous speech about budgets and government legislation. It was all important stuff, Tony wasn’t denying that, but it was Clint’s turn to attend one of these to represent the Avengers.

Tony wondered where he was hiding, and why he hadn’t thought of it first.

Tapping his finger on the table, Tony glanced up at the presentation, biting down the sarcastic comment he had about SHIELD technology and how FRIDAY was far superior, quickly scanning over the relevant information to make sure he understood what was being said.

His gaze flickered over to his lovers again, Loki now stretched back so he could murmur in Stephen’s ear, probably asking for clarification on what was being spoken about. Fury faltered in his speech as he caught Loki whispering, but he said nothing, probably worried he would bring tension to the diplomatic peace they had with the Asgardians.

Tony’s relationship with the other two wasn’t known by many others. Pepper and Rhodey knew, as did Wong, although Tony wasn’t sure he approved after watching him hide himself every time he and Loki spent time at the Sanctum. The only other people who knew were Thor and Valkyrie, who had both been happy for them all, Thor shedding a tear in acknowledgement of his baby brother growing up.

Tony snorted a laugh at that, catching the attention of everyone around the table.

‘Something you wanted to add, Stark?’

‘Nope not me, continue,’ Tony waved obnoxiously, grinning as Fury’s eye twitched.

He chanced a glance towards the other two, but they’d turned their attention back to the presentation, Loki’s teeth biting into his lower lip in concentration, doing nothing to indicate he was in an intimate relationship with the Sorcerer sat beside him. Tony wasn’t ashamed of his partners, and he knew they weren’t of him, but he was firmly of the mind that sometimes the fewer people knew about his life the better.

The media had a way of warping all his intentions, and he didn’t want anything to jeopardize the positive regard humans had towards the Asgardians, nor did he want the Masters of the Mystic Arts to be revealed, and Stephen’s ties to them.

It was unfortunate, Tony wanted to show his partners off to the world, to show how happy he was with them, but the people who mattered knew, and that was enough for him.

Tony felt a slight itch at the back of his neck, and he reached up to scratch it, checking for any loose threads on his shirt collar or stray hairs. Loki’s hair was always getting caught up in his stuff, strands of it caught in his rug, his bed, his shower.

Resting his elbow on the table, he let his eyes go unfocused as he listened to Fury drone on, his mind returning to the project he’d been working on before he’d been summoned. After he’d finished calculating equations in his head, his thoughts turned to the other two sat across from him, wondering if could schedule some sort of date for them.

He hadn’t seen them both in days, bordering on just over a week now.

A tickle ran up the inside of his calf, and he reached down to scratch it, frowning when it continued to tease up his leg towards his knee, feeling suspiciously like a hand. Glancing down beneath the table, Tony couldn’t see anything but his jean-clad legs crossed at the ankle. Suspicious, he glanced over towards Loki, but he was asking Fury a question, his eloquent voice and accent spreading across the room, and Tony could see the effect it was having on the female SHIELD members.

He was such a flirt.

Running his tongue over the back of his teeth, Tony turned his gaze to Stephen who was engrossed in the dialogue between Loki and Fury, his eyes gentle in that specific way of his Tony only ever saw when the wizard was looking at them both.

Not them then.

Writing the whole experience off as an overactive imagination mingling with his intense desire to see them both again, Tony crossed his legs at the knee and leant back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. He startled as something forcibly wrenched his knees apart, sending him face-first towards the table.

The slap of his palms slamming into the table made several people jump, the woman beside him dropping her pen and notebook onto the floor.

‘Stark!’ Fury barked, banging his own hands down on the table. ‘Interrupt me again and I’ll have you placed on a recon mission in the middle of nowhere!’

‘A bit pointless if there’s nothing there…but noted. Sorry, lost my balance…’ he trailed off, clenching his jaw, refusing to back down, both to Fury and the two playing a prank on him.

Tony was well aware of what the game was, and he was already at a disadvantage, craving their touch because of the time spent away from them, and because he was now powerless to them both. He couldn’t defend himself, there was no physical person to restrain.

The touches caressed his skin with varying pressure, and he knew which was which, could easily pick out the firm, confident touch of Loki, and the trembling, reverent touch of Stephen. Neither of them touched anywhere intimate, but Tony felt himself swaying into the touch, shuddering when he could feel ghostly fingers tease up the side of his neck, clasping gently before they swept up to behind his ears, massaging and then grazing along the shell of them.

He managed to turn his moan into a cough, clenching his hand into a fist and bringing it up to his mouth as he hid his expressions. A weight settled in his lap, and he knew it was Stephen’s. He didn’t need to glance over and see the tiny smirk on his mouth, he knew that Loki, despite his slender form, was far heavier.

‘If anyone doesn’t have any questions?’ Fury brought the meeting to a close, and Tony glared at the two of them across the table, trying to shove all of his emotions into his eyes, hoping they could read his mind and not draw this out any longer.

‘There is something I wish to speak to Stark about concerning the output energy of our arc reactor, but I have no questions for you. I believe you have put your points across well, and I will relay these concerns to our king on your behalf.’ Loki’s voice flowed from him like he was unaware of what his touches had been doing to Tony, like he wasn’t affected by the game he’d been playing.

‘Doctor Strange, can I have a word with you outside for a minute?’ Fury directed at Stephen, his eye darting between the three of them, and Tony wondered if he’d figured it out, if he knew what had been happening during the briefing. Despite his usual ability to hide everything behind a poker face, Tony felt himself grow warm, and he knew he was blushing.

Loki waited until everyone had filed out, not even looking at Stephen as he left to talk with Fury. His eyes were focused on Tony, the vibrant green seeming to glow in the dim room, snatching the breath from his chest as they waited.

He only lingered for a heartbeat after the door had shut and then he teleported across the room into Tony’s lap, his hands mimicking the touch across his neck and ears from earlier and his tongue thrust deep into Tony’s mouth.

‘Are all Midgardian government meetings so tedious?’ Loki panted when he broke away, reaching down to flick his tongue across Tony’s ear, his hands clutching him close, like he too had suffered from the time spent apart.

‘I’ve sat in one of your Asgardian ones, that was far worse,’ Tony gasped, trying to stretch up to get Loki’s mouth back on his, aching for a kiss.

‘Have you missed me, Anthony?’ Loki purred down at him, leaning down so his chest rested on Tony’s, magic holding Tony to the chair as he kept his mouth out of reach.

‘I’ve missed you both.’

‘Always playing favorites,’ Loki scoffed, refusing to let Tony kiss him.

‘The cruel teasing has you written all over it, Lokes,’ Tony grinned.

‘Actually, it was my idea.’ Stephen’s rumbling voice interrupted, the sparks of his portal raining down onto the floor.

‘I hate you both,’ Tony growled.

‘That’s not what you said last week,’ Stephen told him. ‘In fact, why don’t we have a repeat performance, and you can scream how much you hate us.’

Tony gulped, the movement not unnoticed by Loki still perched on him who smirked and leant down to swipe his tongue over Tony’s larynx.

‘Don’t worry, beloved, we’ll replace all those teasing touches with our hands…or mouths,’ he whispered into Tony’s ear. ‘You deserve a reward after listening to all that drivel.’

Tony yelped as a portal opened beneath him, the chair banished away by emerald magic as he collapsed backwards onto Stephen’s bed.

[nooneelsecomesclose17]

Go to the ends of the earth for you - Part 4

Bet you thought I'd forgotten this didn't you? I have no excuses, except that it's been misbehaving and would not go right. It was meant to be the last chapter but they had a lot to say even though not much happens!

(AO3 link)

Fourteen months later

Aaron couldn’t stand still, never mind Seb. It was early, he’d left the village far too early in his excitement, but he hadn’t wanted to be late, that would’ve been unbearable. It’s two months since they’d found out his release date, it coming through the day of Annie’s funeral and now the day was finally here.

“How long Dada?”

“Not long mate. Do you want to sit inside the car? Are you cold?”

“No. I don’t want to miss Daddy.” He smiled and wrapped an arm round him, sitting next to him on the bonnet of the car. He couldn’t help wondering if this was how Robert had felt all those years ago, waiting, wondering.

“You won’t. Promise.”

“And he’s staying, not goin’ away again?”

“No, definitely not. He’s not going anywhere.”

“Not even if those people don’t like him?”

“What people?” He could sense a note of fear in Seb’s voice, suddenly quiet.

“The man with no hair, Granny Faith took me to get a cookie and I heard him, he was talking about Daddy.” Aaron let out a sigh. He’d had very little to do with Paddy or his Mum the past year but he knew their dislike of Robert hadn’t dimmed one little bit, and now it was affecting Seb. He crouched in front of him, ruffling his hair a little.

“Daddy’s not going anywhere, no matter what anyone says. So if you hear anyone talking about him again take no notice ok?” Seb nods and leans forward for a cuddle. Aaron doesn’t want to let him go so he just stays like that.

“Can I get in on that hug.” The voice startles him so much he almost drops Seb in shock. Turning he finds Robert standing there, familiar grin in place, and he laughs a little.

“Daddy!”

“Hi little man.” Aaron hands him over to Robert with a smile, content to wait for his own moment with him. “You’ve got so big!”

“I’m almost half the window!” Robert looks confused, looking to Aaron for help.

“We’ve been marking how he’s growing haven’t we? Every Friday night he stands next to the window and we put a mark on the wall.”

“That’s amazing.” He lets Seb chatter, eyes never leaving Aaron’s, eventually pulling him into a one armed hug, that would have to do as it seemed Seb was in no mood to let go of his Dad anytime soon.

The excitement is clearly too much and by the time they reach the outskirts of Hotten, Seb’s dropped off in the back of the car, head leaning against the side of his car seat, giraffe toy clutched in his hand. Aaron reaches over and squeezes Robert’s hand.

“You ok?”

“I am now. So, what am I facing back in the village?”

“Nothing much, I promise. Gran said she might pop in, and Vic wants you to meet Harry, at some point but I told her to leave it for today. I don’t think Paddy or my Mum will be hanging out any bunting, if that’s what you were hoping for.”

“I got that much…Seb heard him?” Aaron nods. “Great.”

“Hey, it was a one off. It won’t be long before we’re out of there will it?”

“You still want to leave?”

“I want what’s best for our family, and I don’t think that’s the village is it.”

Robert doesn’t answer and he’s quiet for the rest of the drive. Aaron leaves him to it, knowing it takes some adjustment when you first get out of prison. The village is quiet when he pulls the car to a stop at the house, Robert looking around seeing if anything has changed.

“You want to go inside?”

“No. I…can we go to the graveyard?” Aaron nods. “I just want to say goodbye.”

Aaron had hated going to the prison, telling Robert that his Gran had died, knowing he wouldn’t be able to go to the funeral, and say goodbye. Instead Aaron had stood next to Vic in his place, but he knew Robert felt guilty anyway, that he’d not been there.

Robert’s quiet as they stand there, the plaque on the wooden cross glinting in the sunlight. He shifted Seb in his arms so he could take his hand.

“Vic wouldn’t hear of sorting out a stone, not until you were here, same with her will.”

“I should’ve called more, should’ve visited, but I got so wrapped up in everything, and I suppose, I knew what she’d say about Chrissie, knew she’d see through me especially after I met you, so I stayed away. Then everything just kept getting in the way.”

“You called, I heard you. She knew you loved her Robert.”

“Maybe. I wish she could’ve met him,” He runs a hand through Seb’s hair, the little boy still sleeping, head resting on Aaron’s shoulder. “And you.”

“What would she have said about me then?” Robert chuckles.

“He’s a nice enough lad, Robert, but he could dress a bit more smartly. You know what I think of those hoodie things. She would’ve loved ya, known how much I love you.” He takes another look at the grave. “Come on, let’s go home.”

————

The next few days are quiet, the weekend allowing them the excuse to stay indoors away from everyone. The only people they see are Vic with Harry and his Gran who drops in with some supplies insisting she knew they wouldn’t want to go to the shop, full of apologies for what Seb overheard, which they wave away because it’s not her fault that Paddy just can’t keep his mouth shut.

After that Aaron has to go back to work. Cain probably wouldn’t mind if he took some more time but he doesn’t want to take advantage, and besides they have to try and get back to normality at some point.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take him to nursery?” Robert’s staring at a cup of coffee and has been the past twenty minutes, but he looks over at Seb who’s playing by the sofa.

“I can take care of him.”

“I know, but…I s’pose I thought you’d want to check in at the haulage firm. He’ll be fine there, he likes it.” He steps over, hands resting on Robert’s shoulders. “I can come with you if you want, Cain will give me an extra hour.”

“You think I can’t cope?” He doesn’t react, he’s gotten used to the defensive tone in Robert’s voice over the past few days, knows it’s not directed at him.

“No. Of course you can, but I know how strange it is coming back after you’ve been inside, and that’s without wanting to avoid my family.” Robert looks up at him. “I’m not daft Robert.”

“I know that.”

“So…why don’t we take Seb to nursery this morning, and you pick him up and the three of us will have lunch. We can’t stay shut in here for the next year.” Robert nods. “Come on monster, you ready for nursery?”

“What about Daddy?”

“I’ll pick you up at lunchtime, and then me, you and Dada are going to the…where are we going?” He asks as he tries to get Seb to stand still long enough to get into his coat.

“Pub?”

“Feel like living dangerously do you?”

“I’m not hidin’. We can do the cafe if you’d rather.”

“No, no, it’s been a while since I’ve felt the death rays, I almost miss them.” Happy that he’s brought a smile to his face, Aaron kisses him goodbye and hurries Seb out of the door.

————

The pub is about half full when they get inside and he points at the table by the fire telling Robert he’ll get their drinks while he settles Seb down. He can see his Mum by the bar, pretending not to look at them but he knows better. She’s next to Cain who lifts his pint and winks at him. He’d told him his plan that morning. He wasn’t going to let Robert feel as though he couldn’t go about the village because of his Mum and Paddy. Robert hadn’t said as much but Aaron wasn’t stupid. He goes to order but Robert’s hand on his arm stops him and he smiles.

Matty takes their order and everyone leaves them alone. There’s some kind of delay with their food, Marlon’s probably having one of his tantrums so he goes to order another drink. He knows his Mum has been watching the whole time.

He subtly waves Matty away when he tries to serve him, locking eyes with his Mum and staring until she comes over.

“Two pints and an orange for Seb please.” He bites back a laugh when she all but snatches the money from him without saying a word.

“Playing with fire aren’t you?” Cain sidles round the bar to his side.

“I told you, I’m not hiding away and neither is Robert. Are you going to throw the Dingle code in my face if I don’t stop?”

“Nah. I reckon it’s about time she got a taste of her own medicine.” He says seeing her going into the back, their drinks abandoned on the side. He looks over at his uncle, surprised. “Tried telling me I shouldn’t have given you a job not long after I took you on.”

“What?”

“Said I was going against the family. Told her it weren’t me doing that…she ignored me for a few weeks but I reckon she found not many people wanted to listen, so now she’s talking again but she’s frosty. Suits me. Less earache that way.” He snorts a little as Matty brings over the abandoned order. He gives him the rest of their order before going back to the table, not that surprised that Cain follows.

“Alright Sugden. Good to see you.”

“Er, cheers Cain.” He gives Aaron a look but he shakes his head. He’ll tell him later.

“Here.” He hands him his drink when Cain’s gone back to the bar without another word.

“Ta. What’d your Mum say?”

“Nothing. Literally. Guess it’s a good job she’s not like that with all her customers or her trip advisor rating would be rubbish.” He lays a hand on Robert’s knee at the look on his face. “Leave it, she’s not worth the trouble.”

“She’s your Mum.”

“Mmm, who can’t support my decisions. I’ve had a year to get used to this Robert. It’s better than her being in my ear all the time about you.” He looks down at Seb, thankfully engrossed in his colouring and not listening. “She can get as annoyed as she likes, this is our local for the next few months and I’m not avoiding it because of her.”

“I quite like this new you.” He laughs at Robert’s face as Marlon puts their food down with a smile.

“Eat your food.” He can’t help smiling to himself though.

————

“You ready?” Aaron can’t help pulling at his tie as they stand outside the solicitors office in Hotten, the sunshine making him feel hot in his suit. He supposed he didn’t really need one, it was only the reading of a will but Robert had put his on so Aaron had followed suit.

“I think so. Where’s Vic? She said half past?” Robert worrying about being on time was a new thing, probably left over from prison Aaron mused, you lived by timetables in there. He rubbed a hand up his arm to reassure him.

“She was taking Harry and Seb to Diane’s remember? She’ll be here.” Robert nods. He’s been quiet all morning. Aaron supposes he’s still grieving for his Gran and the fact that he couldn’t say goodbye properly. “See, here she is.”

Vic rushes up to them, complaining about Diane keeping her talking and then Robert’s ushering them inside, taking charge and the two of them let him. Aaron wants to laugh at how much time he’s spent in a solicitor’s office this past year for one thing and another and not once because he was in trouble. It made a nice change.

Thankfully they’re not kept waiting and then they’re sitting in this posh office and Aaron can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. He’s always thought of Annie Sugden as a typical farmer’s wife and mother, not well off, just comfortable enough for her old age. Neither Robert nor Vic seem surprised at the sums been bandied about so he keeps quiet.

“No.” Robert’s whisper drags him out of his thoughts, just catching the man in front of them mentioning a house, looking straight at Robert. “She can’t.”

“Mr Sugden…”

“No! She wouldn’t.” He’s out of his chair, all but running from the office before Aaron can stop him. He goes after him, hoping Vic will make their apologies, hoping he’s not got far. He’s right outside, leaning against the wall, breathing hard.

“You ok?”

“Did you hear?”

“Yeah. Your Gran left you her house.” He’s confused by the reaction because surely Robert knew he was in the will, he’d been invited to the reading after all. “That’s…good isn’t it?”

“I don’t deserve it. She…can’t. Not after everything I’ve done.”

“She knew all that, and she still wanted you to have it. She obviously loved you Robert, you were her grandson.”

“No, if she’d know I was in prison she wouldn’t…she’d be so disappointed in me, ruining the Sugden name.”

“Rob?” He moves aside to let the siblings hug each other. He feels out of his depth because he didn’t know Annie, has no idea if Robert’s right. He hopes she wasn’t like that, wouldn’t disown her grandson given everything, but he was so convinced. “It’s what Gran wanted.”

“Should’ve been for you, not me. You’ve been here all these years, I haven’t even visited or anything.”

“You called her, she told me how much she used to love hearing about Seb. Anyway she left me money which is better than a house. It’ll help me more.”

“Vic, did the solicitor say when the will was written?” Aaron can see that Robert’s gearing up for another bout of convincing himself he’s not worth any of it and he says the only thing he can think of.

“About a month before she died.”

“And she knew…about Robert, about what we’d done, everything?” She nods and he smiles in thanks before turning to Robert. “See? She knew everything and she still wanted you to have it.”

“But…”

“No buts. I didn’t know her, so you tell me, did anyone ever make your Gran do anything she didn’t want?” He snorts and Vic’s laughing, leaning against her brother.

“I suppose not. Still…seems unfair, that house is worth more than what you got Vic.”

“Maybe but Gran’s helped me out a lot over the years and not you. I’m not bothered by it Rob, so you don’t need to be.”

“Besides, if you keep it I expect Vic will be quite happy to borrow it every now and then, eh?” She shoves him playfully but his words have the desired effect, Vic’s love of the sunshine is well known and Robert teases her whenever she moans about the lack of it in Yorkshire. “Might have to up the rent mind or she’ll never leave.”

“Oi you! You might be my brother-in-law but I knew you long before he did.”

“Yeah yeah.”

“You didn’t you know.” Robert says as they’re walking back to their cars. “I met him at Katie and Andy’s wedding.”

“You did?” Aaron can just remember being dragged to some party because his Mum was working. He’d just been glad to be away from his Dad for a few days but he can’t remember Robert.

“Mmm. You were sat at the bar on some manky video game. Had a right face on you. Mind you, so did I. I wanted to be anywhere but at their wedding.” His face changes, memories coming all at once and Aaron takes his hand, knowing exactly where his mind has gone. “So…I fancy some chips.”

“Dressed like this?”

“Why not. There’s no law says you can’t eat chips in a suit.” With that he walks ahead leaving Aaron and Vic to catch up, smiling at each other. Aaron’s not blind, he can see just how Robert’s mood has improved from being out of the village, despite the circumstances.

————

“Seb, come on bedtime.” Robert’s in the bath so it’s his turn to try and get the little boy into bed. Just lately he’s become determined to stay up as late as possible even when he’s falling asleep on his feet. “I’ll read you two stories if you go up now.”

“No.”

“It’s already late and you have nursery tomorrow. You don’t want to be too tired to play with Isaac do you?”

“Not go to nursery.” He carries on colouring, despite the adamant statement.

“Why?” Aaron sits down beside him, instantly worried, because he loves nursery and hates leaving.

“Stay here with Daddy. So he’s not sad.”

“Why do you think Daddy will be sad? He knows you like nursery, he won’t mind mate.”

“Cos he was, other day.” Seb whispers, looking up at him with big eyes.

“He was? Do you know why?”

“The man. He saw him. Uncle Cain was there and he told the man to be quiet but Daddy’s still sad.” He crawls into Aaron’s lap, picture abandoned. Aaron doesn’t need to ask which man, Seb only uses those words for one person.

“Oh, well you don’t have to worry about that mate, I’m here now. I’ll make sure Daddy isn’t sad anymore.”

“Why doesn’t the man like Daddy? He’s fun, he plays with me when I ask.”

“I know he does. You don’t worry about any of that ok, I’ll sort it. That man won’t upset Daddy again, promise.” He hugs him tighter before tickling him to make him laugh. “Now, come on, bed. I’ll even let you stay awake until Daddy’s done in the bath, but you have to get into your ‘jamas first.”

He tries his best not to let Seb see how angry he is but he has to take a couple of minutes to himself in the kitchen calming down before going upstairs. He was going to pay a visit to Paddy the next morning because he wasn’t having the little boy upset, let alone Robert.

[catxsnow]

AFTER HOURS chapter four

Summary: Enemies to the public, friends to their close ones, friends with benefits between them. Rival companies and an attraction that can’t be ignored.

Tim Drake x reader

Warnings: swearing, mature content, smut, 18+ only, mention death of parents, car crash mentions.

A/N: 

Word Count: 3.3k

Tim sat in his desk at Wayne Enterprises. His head was tilted back and his eyes sealed shut. It wasn't just the fact that he was tired and sore from his previous night out on patrol, but the fact that he was worried. Worried for her, her company, her well-being. He was worried that she was being too rash to get the recognition  she deserved.

It had been a week since their last encounter and since she had made all those sudden involvements. There were several press conferences that were held for her and each of them led to the same thing: she was going to be seen as the best business woman in Gotham - the best CEO in Gotham.

For the first time in a long time, Gotham believed her. They looked past the headline that was made of her a week ago and saw that she was the person that Gotham needed. They asked her serious questions like what her company's future was going to be like, where she was getting this funding - not who that man was that she went home with.

Her plan, though risky, had worked. She was getting treated like the CEO that she was, not the little girl that she was four years ago. Though Tim was worried, he was also proud of everything she accomplished. However, with her sudden changes, that put his own company in a tough spot. He was suffering, and it was because of her.

So what was he to do? Push back? Take away everything that she worked so hard to accomplish? That would have been an act of war, one that he wasn't willing to risk. For now, he pushed forward with his own plans, not rushing and not delaying them. There was nothing else that he could do.

Not to mention that his Gala that he was hosting was only two days from now. Everything had been set - except for the fact that (Y/N) still hadn't given him her confirmation of coming. She was right, it had been four years of knowing each other and not once had she shown up. Why would she now?

Why was he disappointed this time that she wasn't planning to make an appearance? Tim found himself going to her more often. He wanted to spend time with her outside of just fucking. It seemed that he had been pushing his luck with her anyways. Deep talks when their sex was over, longer times together. They never used to do that.

So why now? Why after all this time was he pushing to be with her more. Why was she letting him? Time after time she always told him that no one could know. What they had was purely in secret, and most importantly what they had was just sex. Nothing besides sex, they weren't supposed to be even friends.

Why did Tim consider her one of his best friends? She was the person that he wanted to go to when times were hard. Sure he had Conner and Bart, but sometimes they just didn't understand his issues the same way that she did. She always seemed to know what was right.

Tim wiped his hands down his face and let out a tired groan. He wanted this week to be over already. Aside from this stupid gala he had to do, he had plans with his friends. It had been a long time since he had seen the Titans and he missed them.

Not as much as he missed her.

"Mr. Wayne?" His secretary buzzed into his office. Tim snapped himself out of his daze and asked what she had wanted. "You have a call on line one. She didn't say her name." Tim narrowed his eyes - was this someone who knew his secret identity? Someone prepared to threaten Wayne Industries?

Tim grabbed the phone, he never got the chance to speak before the woman spoke. "I can hearing you sighing all way the way in my own building, Tim."

"Ms. (L/N)," Tim smiled at the sound of her voice. He spun around in his chair to look out the window to her own building. If he had a pair of binoculars, he could have seen her standing at her window staring back at her. "What do I owe the pleasure of hearing from you today?" More so, how did she knew that he was just thinking of her?

"I thought I'd give you a bit of a heads up that you've got reporters coming your way wanting to know your opinion about my recent... purchases," she told him. Tim had managed to avoid them for as long as he could, it was no surprise that they would find someway to corner him.

"I appreciate it," Tim thanked her. "Before you go. I just wanted to let you know that you still have an invite to my gala on Friday."

"I gave you my answer and I'm staying by it," She told him after a moment of hesitance. Now more than ever she couldn't go to his gala. She swore that she could hear Tim's disappointment at her answer.

"I can't convince you to?" Tim tried once more. She was unsure if he meant sex or business - either sounded tempting to her. However, having to dress up in heels and act fake around people that supported Tim - and her - sounded terrible. She didn't know how he could host so many.

"Goodbye Tim."

Fuck.

><

Friday mornings always seemed easier than any other day of the week. Maybe it was because after that long day of work, it was nothing but relaxation for the next two. It didn't matter, she looked forward to Fridays every week. Except this week.

Tonight was Tim's gala. It was all over the news in Gotham, as well as the front page of every newspaper. Tim's cheery smile filled every media, as well as the kind words he had to say for the reason of hosting. He was raising money to build the new orphanage down town Gotham for the kids on the streets.

Who could say no to that?

To make matters worse, her name also filled the paper. One of the reporters had asked if she was to be attending the gala. Tim answered as kindly as he could - stating that she had already made a massive donation and that she was too busy with her own projects to be able to attend. Of course, they had made her name look bad in order to make his better.

She sighed and turned off the TV as the news reporter called her out for being to preoccupied in her own tower to think of the poor children on the streets. That wasn't the case, that was far from the case. In fact, she was completely free that night and was able to attend. It was the matter of her not wanting to go.

"Mr. William," she smiled as her head advisor walked into the office. He had been close to her parents when they were running the company. Through the years, he became the closet thing to a father figure in her life. "What can I help you with today?"

"It's a matter of what can you help yourself with today, Ms. (L/N)," He sat in the chair. Mr. William couldn't have been much older than fifty. He had a kind smile and the belly of a beer drinker, though she had known for a fact that he hadn't had a sip in twenty odd years. His hair was speckled grey and glasses were always slipping down his nose.

"I think you should attend Mr. Wayne's gala," he admitted. She rolled her eyes at his proposition. "The two of you are friends, good friends. Why not let the people know that you are? Why keep up this charade that you hate each other? Gotham would be far better off if we united with Wayne Enterprises."

She couldn't exactly tell him that she didn't want to whole city to find out that they were fucking on the side. She still didn't even want them to know that they were friends. For years her company and WE had been at war with each other, she didn't want the people to think she was weak for suddenly siding with him and giving up.

"The news is already giving you a bad rep for not attending. It's been four years since you've started here, and not once have you attended. I know you've made you donation but I really think it would help give better morale for you to go. Just think about it, yeah?"

"Thanks, Mr. Williams." He was right. The press was giving her a hard time for never going. They did this every time that he had a gala and she stated that she wasn't going to attend. Why did it bother her now? Why did she know deep down that Mr. William was right about everything? Maybe because he was. Or maybe she was just tired of the charades.

Fuck.

><

(Y/N) was nervous quite often. It was a bad trait of hers that she was never able to shake. Throughout the years, she had grown to hide it through false confidence. Press conferences were the worst. She would stand in front of dozens of reporters, all of them ready to pick apart everything she said.

It was impossible not to feel nervous in her line of work. Billions of dollars were on the line every day and one false step and she could lose it all. She had done good work so far, and she had made the people of Gotham believe that she wasn't some shy girl, she exuded confidence - even if it was fake.

However, walking into the the Wayne Gala with an expensive dress and heels that were far higher than she was used to, she wasn't able to keep up the façade. She wore a golden dress that was tight in the chest and loose around her legs. A dangerously high slit showed off her legs. Perfectly executed makeup was done that made her eyes gleam.

It wasn't her own eyes that she was worried about, it was the eyes of everyone in that room. Their gaze was glued to her, and it made her incredibly nervous. She wasn't sure if it was because of how she was dressed or because for the first time in four years she had attended Tim's event.

(Y/N) walked through the path being cleared for her and grabbed a glass of champagne off the tray a server held. Tim Wayne stood at the end of her walkway, though he was yet to notice her. He was talking with several other CEO's, laughing as if they were all good friends. She knew they weren't, she knew that he didn't care for them in the slightest.

Tim finally averted his gaze to the gold glimmer headed his way. He had to do a double take to realize that it was in fact (Y/N). Shock was evident in his eyes. To everyone, it would have been because of her arrival, in reality it was the fact that he couldn't believe how incredibly stunning she looked.

Never in his life has he laid eyes on someone so beautiful.

Tim excused himself from the men he was talking to and met you half way to your journey towards him. If there wasn't a room full of people watching, he would have kissed you right there. He wanted to, even if it meant breaking everything that you had hidden for so long.

"Mr. Wayne," she stuck her hand out for him to shake. Tim looked handsome himself. His hair was slicked back, just like Bruce used to wear. He wore a black suit with the exception of a red and golden tie. Someone not from Gotham easily could have mistaken the two of them as a matching couple.

"Ms. (L/N)," Tim shook her hand. He felt like he was stuttering over his words. "I thought you weren't coming."

"I was convinced," she answered. Tim wasn't sure if it was because of himself or someone else. Either way, he was glad that she came - and that he was able to see her in such a beautiful gown. "This is quite the event that you have. Beautiful."

"So are you," he blurted out. She glared at him, worried that someone had heard his comment. Tim felt his face flare up with embarrassment and anxiety. She looked beautiful, and he felt like a fool for not being able to pull himself together. "Uh, thank you. For coming, and for the donation. It means a lot to me for you to be here."

"I'm not here for long, Mr. Dr - Wayne," she took a sip of her champagne. In fact she didn't want to be there at all. As soon as she walked through the doors and all eyes were on her she wanted to leave immediately. If she was going to make it through that night at all, she was going to need more than one glass of the champagne.

"Well, while you are, may I have this dance?" Tim stuck his hand out for her to grabs so he could lead her to the ballroom floor. She hesitated. Pictures. News. Media. Gossip. She hated the thought of it all. This past week had been focused on getting her attention away from silly rumors like this. All that work was going to be washed away if she accepted his offer.

It felt like everyone was staring daggers at her. She could feel the eyes of everyone in that room. Tim never asked people to dance, and he was asking her the second that she walked through that door. It was going to make the headline, and she was sure that it wasn't going to be the one she wanted.

To her surprise, she accepted. Her hand rested in his palm and she set her half empty glass down on a nearby table. Just as she expected, everyone watched as he led you to the dance floor. Flash of cameras, murmurs of people talking to one another. After four years of not showing up - within the first ten minutes she was already dancing with her worst enemy.

Tim's hand was hot against her waist. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, remembering just how those hands touched her only a few nights ago. Now was not the time to be thinking about it, but she couldn't help the burning feeling of desire rake through her. Why did he have to affect her like this?

"Ignore them," Tim whispered. He assumed she was suddenly anxious of the others, not that she was suddenly wanting to rip his clothes off. She met his eyes, baby blues that always seemed to find some sort of hidden emotion that she tried to keep down. "Why'd you come?"

"Would you believe me if I said I came here to sabotage you?" She raised an eyebrow. Tim suddenly spun her around. Her back was against his chest and her arms crossed over her body. She would have been fine if it wasn't for his tight grip on her wrists. The same grip that held her in place as he fucked her.

"Not for a second," he smiled. Tim twirled her back around to their original pose. She wasn't sure if he knew exactly what he was doing to her. "I know you better than you'd like to admit."

It was true. She hated how well he knew her. When it came to what she was truly feeling, the way that she thought things through, he even knew more about her family than anyone else. He was in every theoretical way, her best friend. It didn't stop her from hating him just enough to keep it to themselves.

"Mr. William thought I should come," she told him truthfully. "I had no intentions of showing up." Tim twirled her again, this time resting his hand on the small of her back so she wouldn't fall. His touches were innocent, but she couldn't stop thinking about when they weren't.

"Can I give you a reason to stay?" Tim questioned. His eyes darted down her body. When looking back to you, his iris' darkened with lust. It seemed to be more than that. The hint of innocence that speckled his face led her to believe that this time, he wanted more than a hook up, he wanted a connection. It made her falter.

Before she could answer, Tim dipped her. The slit in her dress showed off her entire leg as it brushed against his. His grip on her was tight, not daring to let her fall in anyway. Tim was close, too close. She could feel the warmth of his breath fan against her cheek. She was frozen, too in awe of his beauty to move.

The flash of a camera snapped him out of it. Tim pulled her back up to his level and cleared his throat. That was far too intimate with that many people around. She tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze. He pulled her close once more, continuing their dance.

"There's a couple ideas that come to mind, Mr. Wayne," she chided. In that moment, there was nothing more that (Y/N) wanted than to feel the heat of his hands over her naked body. Maybe it was her own thoughts that were making her uncomfortable in a crowded room rather than the people themselves.

"I hate being called Mr. Wayne," Tim muttered. She knew that - he expressed it to her quite often. Even Mr. Drake just filled him with dread. It only reminded him of his father. "I hate these gala's. They were never my thing, when I was a kid. Hosting them is even worse. I always hoped you'd come to make it more bearable."

"You know why I didn't," she sighed. Throughout their years, there were times that she didn't come simply because she wanted to keep the act up. Others, there were times that there was no need for an act. Tim genuinely infuriated her sometimes. He made choices that effected her company and sometimes herself personal.

As good friends as they were, there was always some hatred in her heart. These past few months seemed to have been different. Longer times spent together, untold secrets. They were closer than every, and yet it still felt like they were miles apart.

Tim suddenly pulled her completely flush against him. His hand rested dangerously close to the curve of her ass. A nearby couple had nearly bumped into them, and would have had he not pulled her in. Unfortunately, it just made her lust of him even more. A few strands of his gelled hair fell down, making him look like the young man that he truly was.

"People are staring," She whispered as he didn't let her leave his hold. The sexual tension between them had to have been evident to everyone in that room. (Y/N) wasn't nearly a good enough actor to make it seem like she wasn't trying to jump him - she just hoped that he was.

"Let them," Tim told her confidently.

"Tim," she sternly spoke. He heaved out a breath of air and let her make a space between them once more. Instantly, he missed her body against his. "Think you can steal a few of those champagne bottles and bring them home?"

"I don't think it'd qualify as stealing if I'm the one who bought them," Tim raised his eyebrows at her sudden request. He watched her eye up one of the trays full of glasses as a waiter walked by. "Why?"

"Grab us a bottle each and I'm all yours for the night. Completely yours, whatever you wish to do."

taglist:  @unknowntoanyone @willieoo @kindashittywriter @subtleappreciation @yandereforyou @pricetagofficial @because-icanhide @magicisabluewish @hyp-oh-critical @littleredwing89 @boy-georgina @sparkleofpizza @craptainlou @timtimmersdrake @hauntingsonofrobin @anothertimdrakestan @idkmanicantenglish @vvipgot7be @psych0crybaby @theconfusedpansexualbitch @spiitfiires

[starcherryberry]

ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕠𝕣𝕤 → 𝕐𝔾 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕩 𝕁𝕂 | 𝕄.

→ ❝ With your final semester left of university you expected to go through it easily however an issue with your credits leads you to take Professor Min’s Painting 101 course.❞

☾ Pairing: Professor!Yoongi Painter!Yoongi x Student!Reader x Student!Jungkook (this was suppose to be a yoongi x reader but somehow my mind wandered and jungkook came in lmao it be like that sometimes)

☾ Type: Poly!Relationship (literally you won’t see it until like the ending but oops)

☾ Genre: Smut  ☆  Angst  ☆  Fluff

☾ Word Count: 7.3k

↠ Warnings: there is an age gap between all characters involved, if you are not comfortable with that please refrain from reading. Dom!Yoongi, Dom!Jungkook, Big Cock!Yoongi, Big Cock!Jungkook, Sub!Reader, fingering, Public Sex in classroom, Body Worship (mainly JK), cockwarming (sort of not really but like for a few mins) unprotected sex (jeez many times someone wrap their doodles please)

✉ Song Recommendations: (I love kdrama osts don’t hate me, also these are all spotify links so use youtube if you don’t have it) (Legit none of these fit the tone of the fic I just luv to recommend sht hehe)

♡ Weki Meki- Love Diamond

♡  Jus2- Take

♡  Junggigo- Too Good

♡  Punch, Glabingo- Beautiful Beautiful (watch hit the top it’s a beautiful kdrama hehe)

✉ Note: Anyways this is my first fic to be uploaded on tumblr! I spent a long time revising & working on this legit I have been staring at my computer for way too long and my eyes hurt because I wanted to get this out. It’s currently 4am as I upload this so if there are errors in the text I apologize in advance. (a girl is tired) Please don’t steal! This fanfic was inspired by the constant Youtube painting lives Yoongi has had. In the midst of writing I added Jungkook because he added more into the story. I was thinking of making this into a Occupation!BTS collection where I can make one for each member with different story lines. Let me know if you want me to do so in the comments below! (okay im talking to much bye)

“Y/N it seems like you still need 4 more credits added to your schedule to be eligible to graduate this semester.” your advisor told you. You honestly didn’t know you still needed more credits to graduate, you never cared to look. So when it came to registering, you signed up for the courses you needed as part of your International Studies degree. 

“What courses are still available for registration?” you asked even though you knew the number of courses to be left must be very few. “Well there is one course open, it’s Professor Min’s Painting 101. He’s a new professor here so it makes sense as to why not many students signed up with him yet.  Even though this course isn’t a requirement for your major, it will definitely cover up for the credits you need Y/N so I suggest you sign up for this. His course runs every Friday at 1 pm-3 pm” your advisor said as she handed you a summary of Professor Min’s course.

You looked over the summary of the course to know what you’re getting yourself into. It was a 101 class so of course, you will be in a class full of freshmen. That wasn’t too exciting however you didn’t mind painting, you are actually quite great at it as a hobby. With one last look at the sheet, you turn to your advisor “Okay I’ll take the course”.

It was finally Friday and today includes your very first class with Professor Min. Unfortunately, you couldn’t go on Rate My Professor to see what kind of teacher was he since he’s new. ‘I swear if he’s an asshole, I’m gonna give him a fucking one’ you thought to yourself. 

You were standing right in front of his classroom, sighing you stepped in to see a couple of students already seated. You tried looking for a seat next to an empty one only to see none, so you had to sit next to someone. Looking around the classroom to observe the students there, you saw a boy with long hair covering his eyes. ‘He looks like someone who won’t speak to me that’s perfect’ you thought as you made your way over and sat next to the boy. 

The boy looked up, staring at you for a bit before speaking “Hello! My name is Jungkook” he said smiling. ‘Oh for fuck’s sake, I forgot how friendly these freshmen are on the first day because they have no friends’ you thought. “Uh, h-hi my name is Y/N” you waved slightly at him. 

“Are you majoring in arts too?” he asked, his eyes were wide in a cute way. “No, actually I’m an International Studies major. I’m only taking this course for extra credits to graduate” you smiled at him. “Oh...so you must be older than me” he chuckled. You had, to be honest, his laugh was pretty cute. “Yeah I’m 22 however I’d like to think I was younger” you laughed and Jungkook laughed with you. You and Jungkook continued to talk until class began.

Suddenly the door opened and revealed a man who looked young with long brown and blonde hair. ‘Fuck he’s hot’ you thought as your gaze focused on him walking in. Jungkook leaned in and whispered in your ear “He’s quite the eye candy right” and you nodded. What else were you supposed to say of course you didn’t expect your painting professor to be a man who looked like he was in his mid 20’s. 

Professor Min’s eyes scanned the classroom before stopping on you for a bit. You could feel your face reddening as you felt his gaze on you. ‘Fuck stop thinking like this Y/N’. As you looked up at Professor Min he broke the stare and sat at his desk. “Okay, my name is Professor Min and welcome to my Painting 101 class, this course will include beginner level painting. You will learn the steps to becoming a better painter. I expect each and every one of you to come out of this class with at least more confidence in the arts.” he said as he looked over the class. 

Professor Min then took out his clipboard with the attendance sheet. He checked off each student one by one before hovering over your name tilting his head before looking up at you “Miss Y/N?” You immediately looked up at him “Yes?”. “It says here you’re a senior majoring in International Studies, is there a reason why you’re taking my course?” he asked still having his gaze on you.

“Ah um well I needed an extra course to get enough credits to graduate this semester and your course was the only option. However, I really like to paint as a hobby so I thought this class would be easy to take!” You answered trying to sound like you’re happy with taking the class. Professor Min nodded to your response “I see well welcome to the class as well” he smiled before standing up. 

“So for today’s class, we’ll start easy. Each of you will be doing individual work today by making a simple painting of your choice. I decided to make this a first-day activity because I want to see where you are in terms of levels of performance with painting however expect me to make some comments as this is a college course not a high school course. This will be due in class today. I expect each of you to explain your paintings and why you made them the way they are. You have 2 hours, so please get to your stations, the materials needed are on the carts in the corner.” Professor Min stated as he went back to his desk and started to go over some paperwork while we all began to work.

The two hours of painting were almost up and to be honest you were very satisfied with your painting. You painted two pink roses tied together that were falling from the sky. ‘Professor Min is going to love this’ you smiled at the thought. Jungkook looked over your shoulder to see what you painted and laughed a bit. “That’s definitely very simple but it’s cute Y/N,” he laughed giving you a light pat on the back. You turned to see what Jungkook painted to see that he made a fucking portrait of himself A PORTRAIT! “What the fuck Jungkook how did you get that done within just 2 hours?” you ask as now you felt not so confident in your painting anymore. “Well, I am a visual arts major what did you expect” Jungkook laughed as you rolled your eyes.

“Okay the 2 hours are up, I will start walking around the class to individually speak about your paintings. Once I grade them you can leave the classroom. I will post your homework for the week on canvas so make sure to check!” Professor Min said as he started to walk around the classroom to grade students.

Soon enough he reached Jungkook and he had no problem explaining his portrait of himself. “I really love the details of your painting Jungkook, I can see you will probably be one of the more advanced skilled students in our class, your grade for this assignment is an A” Professor Min smiled as he then turned to your painting. Jungkook had packed up his things and waved at you before leaving the classroom. 

It was just you and Professor Min in the classroom so the amount of nervousness you felt was really high. “Alright Y/N explain your painting to me” he asked as he looked directly at you. “Well, as you can see I painted two pink roses tied together that are also in the midst of falling from the sky. I actually didn’t know what to paint at the beginning if I had to be honest but I just let my head flow with whatever came to my mind first which was roses. Roses signify love, I’ve actually never felt that before but pink roses comfort me a lot which is why I painted them falling from the sky. The roses are not within the grass they are falling because they haven’t gotten to me even though I think about them a lot.” You were satisfied with your answer as you smiled at Professor Min.

He nodded and looked at your painting again. “I like the story behind this painting Y/N however I feel like you can add more detail in your painting. Maybe add something else to pair with the flowers or add some scenery behind it so it doesn’t look like a plain sky. I see lots of paintings like this Y/N and it’s too simple for the meaning behind it when other paintings look exactly like this. Try and add more of your other feelings to this. I will give you a C for this however if you take it home and re-do it, I can consider regrading your work” Professor Min said as he wrote down your grade on his clipboard and smiled “I’ll see you next Friday Miss Y/N” he said as he walked back to his desk. 

You just stood there trying to process what the fuck he just told you. It needed more detail, more work? You were sure you added everything you needed that was in your head. ‘I can’t believe this, Jungkook painted himself and got an A, what did I do wrong?’ you thought. “Miss Y/N are you alright?” Professor Min spoke up as he saw you still standing at your station. You snapped out of it and nodded over at him “Y-yeah I was just thinking of something else sorry, have a nice day!” you said as you grabbed your bag and your painting before rushing out the classroom. ‘I hope you choke on your fucking coffee Professor Min’ you thought as soon as you exited.

It was Friday again and throughout the week you worked on revising your painting as well as become close friends with Jungkook. “Did you get your painting done Y/N?” Jungkook asked as you sat down next to him. “Yeah, I was able to finish it hopefully he’s happy with this one even though I don’t understand what I did wrong in the first place,” you said sighing while taking your painting out and setting it next to your desk. “I thought it was fine even though it was simple, I think he’s just messing with you” Jungkook laughed. “If he’s messing with me I will chop his dick off for real,” you said frustrated.“ “I see I hope you don’t plan on doing that to me too” Jungkook laughed again. “As long as you don’t piss me off too much Kook then you’ll be fine” you smiled.

In the midst of talking, Professor Min walked in “Good Afternoon class, I hope you all have your homework ready to hand in. It will be the first thing we talk about in class today”. He said as he walked up to the chalkboard to write the word ‘blue’ on it. Shit shit shit, you forgot to do your homework because you were so focused on trying to redo your painting. Seeing you in distress, Jungkook handed you a sheet of paper and winked at you. You saw a post-it note on it and it said ‘I know you were trying to get your painting done all week so I did your homework for you!’. You smiled at the note before turning to Jungkook to give him a finger heart.

“So today before we start class we will go over the homework. Before I do that please pass them up so I know none of you are going to try adding in answers.” Professor Min said as we all started to hand our homework up. “This week’s homework was to give off your own meaning of the color blue, what does it mean to you and why did you think of that when you see or think of the color blue? Compared to many other colors, blue seems to be misinterpreted the most so I wanted to see what you all thought about it before we go more into observing colors” Professor Min said as he looked over the class before his eyes landed on you. “Miss Y/N what does the color blue mean to you,” he asked.

Trying to remember what you saw in your homework that Jungkook did you tried to answer. “When I see the color blue I think about the feeling of loneliness, it’s a color that for some reason emits sadness. Whenever I am alone and have no one, the color that first comes into mind to describe my feeling is blue,” you said as you exhaled feeling like you were holding your breath because you could still feel Professor Min’s intense gaze on you. He stared at you before responding “That’s an answer I expected, I am sure many of us had similar answers. The color blue definitely has a sort of tie to sadness however blue can have other meanings too, for example, it can symbolize healing.” Professor Min said. 

“Since we have about an hour left, I’d like for you all to go to your stations, and paint a fruit that represents you, the fruit must contain one of the colors we talked about today. Expect that all your paintings in class to represent yourself, because painting expresses the feeling of the artist themselves.” Professor Min said as he smiled.

“This is going to be a piece of cake,” Jungkook said as he turned to his canvas. “Do you think he’s going to correct me on this painting too?” you asked Jungkook while getting your palette out. He shook his head “Nah, come on Y/N this is fucking fruit we’re talking about there’s no way he won’t give you an A”. You honestly hope Jungkook was speaking the truth.

The class was almost over and the fruit you ended up painting was strawberries. You thought it came out pretty cute. As you turned to Jungkook’s painting you tilted your head “Weren’t we supposed to paint only one fruit, why did you paint a whole fruits basket?” you asked. Jungkook shrugged “I didn’t know what fruit to paint, I feel like I am someone with many traits that can’t be linked to just one fruit, so hopefully Professor Min likes it.” he said.

Professor Min started to walk around the classroom in order so that meant you would be last in the classroom again. He reached Jungkook “Wow Jungkook it seems as you thought outside of the box, tell me what your painting means,” Professor Min said happily. Jungkook chuckled before responding “Well I feel like my life can’t be represented through one fruit, I like to think highly of myself so painting every fruit I could think of expresses that I am happy and that having all these traits is not a problem as long as I feel content with it” Jungkook explained.

Professor Min nodded “You impressed me yet again Jungkook, that’s an A” he smiled as he moved onto your station. Jungkook gave you a huge smile and a thumbs up before leaving the classroom. “Before you show me your fruit painting I want to see your revised painting of your roses Y/N,” Professor Min said. You handed him the painting of your roses. “I added a scenery behind the roses, as you can see I added an ocean behind them. You don’t see flowers growing near the ocean, I put them there because reaching the feeling of love is rare for me and it usually wouldn’t go too far so the roses would die even if they land in the sand or water.” You spoke hoping Professor Min can give you an A.

Professor Min sighed “I think you’re thinking to deep into your feelings Y/N, the painting is beautiful actually however I’m sure love will be successful to you one day. I will up your grade for this painting to an A” he said as he moved onto your fruit painting. “Thank you! For my fruit painting, I decided to paint strawberries, they represent happiness because whenever I go eat them I’m always reminded of the pretty things in life.” You stated happily. “I think that’s a nice way to go about it Y/N however I think your strawberries need a little more detailing maybe add a prop like how jungkook added his fruits into a basket. I’ll give this a C, feel free to re-do it, and turn it in next Friday.” Professor Min said as he turned away without letting you speak.

What the fuck a C again? You didn’t understand but you didn’t care. If Professor Min wanted you to fix it then you will because you simply just wanted to graduate.

As each week passed by you became more and more frustrated. No matter what you did with all your paintings Professor Min always gives you a C just to regrade to an A once you redid them. “I’m literally going to fucking kill him if he gives me a C one more damn time” you rolled your eyes as you started to eat your pizza. 

“I think he’s hitting on you Y/N” Jungkook simply said as he sipped his banana milk. With that, you started to choke on your food “W-what?” you were sure that was not it, definitely, Professor Min hates you. “I don’t know it’s just weird that he keeps doing that and that he leaves you for last when it comes to grading. Plus you’re a senior right? Professor Min is only 27 there’s not too big of an age gap between the two of you.” he shrugged as he bit his pizza. “There’s no way in fucking hell he’s hitting on me, plus isn’t that illegal for a professor to do that?!” you questioned

“Not really as long as you both give consent to each other and keep it low it’s fine, plus you’re graduating so I don’t think he sees an issue.” Jungkook said as you hit him in the head with your phone “Well I promise you that’s not it, let’s not talk about this anymore kook” Jungkook grabbed his head chuckling while you just wanted to shut the conversation off because you honestly didn’t know how to feel if Professor Min actually liked you.

“Alright, so I will be walking around the classroom to look at the different birds each of you painted. This is the last assignment before I give you your final project next week, so I hope many of you improved with this assignment if it’s not good you may have trouble with the final as I will not be offering any regrading on it.” Professor Min firmly stated.

Time passed as he went to each student before reaching Jungkook. “What do we have here Jungkook?” Professor Min asked. “I painted a bluebird Professor Min, I thought it was perfect to paint as it symbolizes the arrival of spring but with the semester ending, I feel like I have put my all into all my works so the bluebird also symbolizes hard work!” Jungkook smiled while answering. “Nicely done Jungkook, you never fail to amaze me with your work. Your grade for this assignment is an A. I actually want to speak with you in my office tomorrow, even though you’re a freshman I feel like I wouldn’t mind having you as a mentor in my courses for next term.” Professor Min said as he smiled widely at Jungkook. ‘Thank you so much, I would love to help mentor students!” Jungkook smiled even his eyes fucking smiled. 

Professor Min walked over to you pulling out your grading sheet. Jungkook packed all of his things happily as he made a big heart with his hands before leaving the classroom. He has a habit of cheering you on with a cute gesture before Professor Min grades you.

“Seems like you have a similar color palette as Jungkook, what bird did you paint,” he asked looking at you. “I painted a Blue Jay Professor Min they have a meaning of being fearless. The reason why I painted it wasn’t because of the meaning but because of the color blue. I was reminded back to the popular meaning of the color blue, sadness. Even though the Blue Jay is fearless it makes me think if it sometimes feels lonely while pulling that Fearless front. I always try to stay strong for myself and pull through but there’s a point where I feel stuck but I don’t want to speak about it. We all experience fear in our lives whether that be alone or with someone else.” You exhaled as you said all of that. ‘Gosh talking for that long while having Professor Min’s stare is having too much of an effect on you’. 

“Wow Y/N the meaning you put to your painting is amazing, I love the connection” he squinted at the painted before continuing. “I think you should add something into the painting that shows what the Blue Jay may have a fear of. Other than that your grade is a C. You can come into my office after Jungkook tomorrow if you want to speak more into redoing this pro-” you cut him off as at this point you already had enough.

“Why a C, I don’t understand Professor Min please make me understand why you give me a fucking C every single time just for you to give me an A after I fix minor mistakes! This isn’t right and I want a true explanation why,” you yelled as you tried to slow down with your breathing.

“Y/N please lower your tone when speaking to me” he calmly said. “No! Just tell me why! I fix everything for you just for you to do the same shit all over again” you said already feeling tears coming up “Just why, please” you begged

“Y/N….your paintings always came out beautiful even without the regrading. I was interested in you on the first day of class when I noticed you were a bit older than all the other students, you stood out to me because this also isn’t your major of focus. You stood out in so many ways and I guess I wanted to get close to you. However, as my status as a professor, I can’t just do it so easily so my way of doing it was trying to keep you in the classroom and in contact with me as long as possible. I wanted to see you more Y/N because I like you.” Professor Min said as he looked into your eyes trying to at least find something.

“P-professor Min…” you stuttered surprised by his confession. “Please call me Yoongi Y/N, class is over” he stated as he got closer to you. “I don’t know what to say...Yoongi” you said moving your gaze to the floor, you couldn’t believe he was doing all this because he liked you, Jungkook was right. Yoongi grabbed your chin lightly as he lifted it before he placed his lips on yours. You kissed back slowly as Yoongi placed his hand behind your head to deepen it.

You could feel yourself starting to get hot as things got intense with the kiss and somehow you’re at Yoongi’s desk sitting on his lap. “Fuck Y/N you’re so beautiful did you know that I’ve been thinking about you like this for a while now,” he said in between the kiss as he could feel you trying to rut on his bulge. He chuckled “I bet your so wet right now Y/N look at you rutting against my cock that’s not even out for you yet.” You whined as you just wanted some pleasure, it’s been a while since you hooked up with anyone. “Yoongi please I just want your cock,” you said trying to rub your clothed core on his lap for stimulation. “Yeah? Want my cock right here huh when anyone can walk in and see my cock stuffed in your pussy?” Yoongi kissed your neck as you moaned. His words were so dirty which turned you on even more. “Yes yes Y-yoongi I need it!” you cried out.

“I need your pants off  Y/N,” he said as he helped you take off your pants leaving you in just your underwear. You couldn’t believe you were doing this in a classroom with your own Professor. You helped Yoongi take his pants off and then you were left staring at his boxers. “Y/N take my cock out and suck” he demanded as he stared at you. You could tell he was already eye-fucking you. You put your hand into the opening of his boxers and pulled out his cock. 

Fuck. He. Was. Huge 

You didn’t waste time given the circumstances you’re in, you started to suck his cock. You couldn’t fit all of him it was too much however Yoongi grabbed the back of your head forcing his cock to go all the way in your mouth making you tear up. “Fuck Y/N that’s it take this cock, I think I’ll come soon” Yoongi growled as he guided your head down his cock. While you were sucking, Yoongi took out his phone to capture the sight of you. He never painted nude paintings because he wanted to wait for someone he loved to do so. Just by looking at you, he wanted to make you into art for only him to see. 

You could feel Yoongi’s grip on your head tighten signaling that he was close to cumming. “Y/N where do you want me to cum sweetheart,” he asked looking down at you his hair sticking to his skin. You pointed to your mouth as you couldn’t form words obviously. “Your mouth is so good for me Y/N taking this cock so well” he grunted before he shot his cum into your mouth slowing down the pace of his hand on your head.

You swallowed every drop before lifting yourself onto his lap and leaning in to kiss him again. “Y/N I want my cock inside you,” he said as he grabbed your ass and positioned you over the tip of his cock before slamming inside you. “Yoongi! Fuck ugh!” you moaned out loud before Yoongi placed his hand on your mouth. “Baby you have to be quiet unless you want to let the whole school know your mine” he whispered in your ear. You moaned loudly into his hands, you couldn’t help it because Yoongi didn’t even let you adjust to his cock.

“Your pussy is so tight Y/N I might cum sooner then I thought” he moaned as he flips you over. Your face was now against his desk as Yoongi was fucking you from behind. “C-cum inside me Y-yoongi!” you cried out without thinking. Yoongi started to thrust harder and deeper “Shit okay Y/N, Do you like that? Having your professors cock inside your sweet little pussy to make you nice and full?” he growled as he started to slam his cock in and out your pussy. “Yes yes yes! I like that Y-yoongi! I-I’m going to cum fuck!” You suddenly saw white spots as your orgasm hit, you could feel Yoongi’s pace fastening as he started to spurt his cum into you.

Oh, fuck what have I done.

Yoongi pulled out slowly catching his breath before putting on his pants. “Y/N? Are you okay sweetheart?” he asked as he grabbed some tissues to clean you up. Without taking a glance at him you started to quickly put on your clothes. “Y/N?” he called out worried that you weren’t responding. “We can’t do this Yo- Professor Min it’s inappropriate and was a mistake I need to go,” you said as you teared up. You quickly grabbed your things ignoring Professor Min’s calling out.

You dialed Jungkook’s number hoping he would pick up. “Hey Y/N finished with talking with Professor Min?” he answered as you sniffled. “Y/N? Are you okay? Do you need me to take you back to your dorm?” he asked. “Please hurry Kook, I c-can’t do this” you pleaded. Jungkook comforted you through the phone as he went over to pick you up.

“So you had sex with Professor Min?” Jungkook blinked repeatedly as he was trying to take in the whole story. You nodded wiping your tears “It was wrong but it felt so good and it’s bothering me kook, I don’t know what to tell him.” Jungkook handed you a tissue “Y/N there’s obviously feelings between the both of you the only thing stopping you are each other statuses. The fact that Yoongi didn’t kick you out of the classroom and offered to clean you shows that he isn’t one of those people. I’m sure he’s hurt too Y/N. The best advice I can give is for both of you to give each other space until you’re ready to confirm your feelings back. If you realize the relationship is no good then let him know.” he stated as he gave you a hug. “Thank you, Kook. I’m surprised you don’t have a girlfriend when you’re so nice” you tried to smile as you were in Jungkook’s arm. 

“I do have a crush on someone but I don’t think she likes me back” he sighed. “At least try but don’t fuck up like me” you chuckled. Jungkook nodded the problem was that you didn’t know that you were his crush. Jungkook was in love with you but he knew that it was never going to happen.

It was suddenly Friday again which means you had to see Yoongi. You were nervous you had no contact with him since you two had sex. You walked into the classroom seeing Jungkook give you a warm smile. Jungkook pointed in front of you so you looked over just to see Professor Min was early however he looked less like his happy self.

“Alright, so today’s class will be short because I will assign you all your final projects. For this project, you must make a collage of a color with multiple shades that speak words. You have 2 weeks to complete this project class dismissed.” Professor Min said as he gathered his things and left the classroom.

“Woah that was quick, Professor Min always uses his full class time no matter what,” Jungkook said as he sighed. “I think it’s because of me Kook, fuck what have I done. I really fucked everything up I’m sure instead of a C he’s going to give me an F.” You felt like crying, to be honest. “Hey, it’s okay. Want to come over my place to destress? We can watch Disney movies?” Jungkook smiled as he wanted to make you happy. You nodded “That would be great Kook” you smiled.

You and Jungkook were currently on the 5th Disney movie for the night. “Why can’t my love life be like a Disney movie, I feel like my story with Yoongi is like one of those tragedies before they get remade into a Disney Movie” you sighed reaching for some strawberries. Jungkook’s grip tightened on his cup of juice, he hated how you only spoke about Yoongi since the incident occurred. “Y/N if you keep thinking about Professor Min you’ll only stress yourself out more, give it a rest for just a bit, and maybe talk with him when finals are done?” he suggested. 

“The problem is that he’s all I ever think about Jungkook, I really thought I could forget about him even while watching these movies but it’s worse now.” you sighed. Jungkook looked at you for a moment before suggesting something that made you confused. “Then let me help you forget,” he said as he looked into your eyes. “Jungkook?” you were confused by what he meant, as you laid your eyes on him his lips were against yours. Unlike the kiss with Yoongi, you weren’t responding back. “Please Y/N…..just for today...let me do this,” he asked as his eyes looked into yours searching for permission to continue. Jungkook was younger than you by a few years but you trust him and know he means no harm and that he just wants to help. You nodded as you kissed Jungkook back.

In just about 5 minutes both yours and Jungkook’s clothes were discarded on the floor. “Fuck Y/N is this what you let Professor Min see? He doesn’t deserve to see your beautiful body.” Jungkook said as he placed his mouth over your nipple. You moaned out “J-Jungkook!” as Jungkook started to suck on your breasts “Did Professor Min worship your breasts like this? I bet he hasn’t huh” he chuckled as he gave you small bites over your chest. Your hands reached to Jungkooks bottom half as you tried to grab his cock. He wasn’t as big as Yoongi but definitely Jungkook’s cock was thicker making your pussy clench around nothing. “Eager aren’t you Y/N? Just want my cock in your tight pussy right?” Jungkook smirked.

“Please Jungkook no teasing I just want you inside” you whined as you could already feel some of your arousal slipping out. Jungkook laid your body onto the couch. He left for a bit to grab something only to come back with a blindfold. “A b-blindfold?” you titled your head.

“I know you don’t love me Y/N, I’m only helping you take your mind off things so I thought having you wear the blindfold would help because I don’t want anything to change between us,” he said as he placed it over your eyes. “Thank you Kook, don’t worry I won’t forget about you and I feel bad for even letting this happen, I don’t want to lead you on,” you said sadly. “Y/N I wanted this too I promise you I’m okay with this,” he said softly.

Jungkook wasted no time as he hovered over you inching his cock slowly inside you. He groaned “Mm Y/N your so fucking wet just for me, look at how easily you’re taking this cock”. You moaned as you felt Jungkook stretching you out, you could only see darkness which caused you to clench on him. He hissed “Y/N please don’t clench like that baby I might cum within seconds.” he laughed. His laugh brought a smile to your face, you definitely felt comfort in Jungkook’s arm.

Jungkook spent his time thrusting into you repeatedly, you could feel yourself about to cum soon as your walls started to tighten around Jungkook’s cock. “K-kook I’m going to cum” you moaned as you gripped Jungkook’s back hard. “F-fuck okay I think I’m going to cum soon too Y/N, want me to cum inside you?” he asked heavily panting as he continued to thrust into you. “Yes come inside me I know you want to Kook” Jungkook’s heart felt like it was going to explode he was doing this for you but he smiled as you cared about his feelings too. You knew that the both of you probably won’t ever do this again which is why you agreed. 

Jungkook changed positions as now you were sitting on his lap, He grabbed your waist making sure to help you with the pace. You wrapped your arms around him as you felt your orgasm hitting you “Jungkook ugh cum in me now” you whined as Jungkook thrust you through your orgasm and then cumming inside you.

You laid on top of Jungkook with his cock still inside you catching your breath. “You good Y/N? Let’s get you cleaned up, you can stay over if you want for the night I’ll sleep on the couch.” Jungkook offered as he slipped your blindfold off.  You nodded already feeling sleepy “Thank you kook, and I’m so so sorry. I really hope one day a person who deserves you a lot will love you” you teared up saying it because you didn’t want to hurt him he’s your friend who loves you and you weren’t sure if you liked him back.

Jungkook smiled as he slipped out of you “Y/N it’s okay I’m just happy that I could take your mind off things for a bit, if it all goes wrong just know I’ll welcome you with open arms” he said as he helped clean you up before handing you some extra clothes to put on.

2 weeks passed like it was nothing and soon enough it was Friday the day finals were due. “What color did you base your collage painting on kook?” you asked him. “Oh I based it on the color purple, apparently it signifies having creativity and I definitely think I represent that” he laughed. “You really love yourself, huh, but that’s a good thing so I can’t really make fun of you for it” you chuckled.

“What about yours Y/N?” with his question you paused before speaking “Well um it’s based around the color pink. I can’t go much into detail but basically this is my confession painting to Professor Min” you said blushing a bit, nervous to speak to Professor Min after weeks have passed. “Ah is that why you didn’t attach an explanation note to your painting,” he asked and you nodded. “Good luck Y/N, I hope everything works out and let me know if you guys get some,” he said wiggling his brows. You laughed and playfully pushed him.

Professor Min walked in and stood in front of the class. “Alright everyone today is your last class with me today. Don’t worry we aren’t going to be doing anything today. All you have to do is bring your canvas up to the front of the room and make sure your explanation notes are attached to your paintings. I hope you all have a wonderful summer break” Professor Min smiled as students started to submit their paintings and then walk out the classroom.

Jungkook patted you lightly on the back and gave you a thumbs up before leaving the classroom. You smiled and started to pack up your things slowly as you waited for Professor Min to notice that you didn’t attach a note to your painting.

“Miss Y/N please come to my desk, the rest of you drop your paintings here and go” he stated.

Here we go, you exhaled before walking over to his desk. “Yes Professor Min?” you asked fully knowing what he was going to tell you. “I don’t see an explanation note attached to your painting,” he said as he looked up at you for the first time in weeks. “I didn’t write one,” you said plainly. “Well since you didn’t write one I am going to have to give you a-” before Professor Min could continue you cut him off “I love you Yoongi,” you said looking at him for a reaction.

“Y/N wha-” he said in a surprised tone. “My painting, it’s my response back to your confession Yoongi. I found love and it’s you” you told him as you started to blush. “Really?” he asked and you nodded.

“Fuck come here Y/N” Yoongi called and you obliged and sat on his lap to start kissing him. “Gosh so that means your mines now?” he asked as he started to undress you. “Y-yes I’m yours now Yoongi officially” you let Yoongi undress you as you stared at his eyes while he was doing so. Yoongi paused as he saw bite marks over your chest. “Y/N where did these marks come from” as you didn’t answer he inserted two fingers into your pussy thrusting them in. “Who did it Y/N tell me right now or I won’t give you my cock,” he said sternly as you cried out “Jungkook Jungkook did them!”

Yoongi chuckled “Where’s your phone Y/N” you pointed to your desk. Yoongi pulled out his fingers as he made his way over to your desk. “What’s the password,” he asked. “Bluemyg” he typed in the password as he started to look for Jungkook’s number in your contacts and pressed call when he found it. Jungkook immediately answered of course because it’s you.

“Did everything go well Y/N?” Jungkook asked. “Come to my class Jungkook right now,” Yoongi said as he hung up the phone turning it on silent. “Yoongi what are you doing?” you wanted to know why in the world did he call Jungkook over when you’re naked on his desk. Yoongi didn’t answer you back and slid his cock inside you “Fuck even after Jungkook fucked you he left you nice and tight for me” Yoongi chuckled.

Jungkook entered into the classroom to see Professor Min with his cock inside you. “H-huh,” Jungkook said as his eyes were blown wide. “Jungkook put your cock in her mouth,” Yoongi said not giving Jungkook an explanation. Jungkook just stood there trying to process what’s going on.

You moaned out “Jungkook just do it, it’s okay!”. With permission on your end, Jungkook unzips the front of his pants and pulls his cock out. He made his way over and placed his cock right above your mouth. “Y/N suck,” Yoongi demanded. You opened your mouth to take Jungkook in while looking up into his eyes.

“Isn’t she gorgeous Jungkook, taking two cocks at the same time with the door wide open for anyone to see,” Yoongi said as he continued to thrust into you. Jungkook nodded as he guided your head to suck his cock. You could barely think about anything when you had two cocks occupying your holes. You pulled away from Jungkook’s cock “I-I’m going to cum”. “Jungkook put your cock in her mouth again and cum when I say so okay?” Yoongi said as Jungkook agreed while thrusting his cock back into your mouth.

You started to clench harder around Yoongi’s cock as you whined while having Jungkook’s cock deep in your throat. “Cum” at that moment Jungkook and Yoongi started to pound into you and release their load. Your vision blacked out after your orgasm.

“Is she okay?” Jungkook asked as Yoongi closed the classroom door and pulled down the shades. “She’ll be fine, I think she was overwhelmed by taking the both of us,” Yoongi responded as he went over to you to start cleaning you up with wipes. “I’m not sure if Y/N will be okay with it, we’ll have to get her opinion on it, but I don’t mind having you in the relationship as well Jungkook I know you love her too,” Yoongi suggested. Jungkook’s eyes widened “R-really? Prof- Yoongi are you sure” Jungkook asked not expecting this. Yoongi nodded “I’m super sure” he smiled.

You opened your eyes to look to the right to see both Yoongi and Jungkook talking. “Did I pass out?” you asked making your presence known. Both of them looked at you and nodded. “Y/N how about adding Jungkook into our relationship?” Yoongi asked immediately. Your gaze turned to Jungkook expecting your answer “I-I don’t mind….I know you thought I didn’t love you Jungkook but after that night my feelings started to develop for you.” you smiled “I love you both” you said as you walked up to the both of them and kiss them both on the lips. 

“Since we’re still sorta naked how about we make a body painting collage using all the colors we can” Jungkook suggested.

“I’m all in for it what about you Yoongi?” you asked looking at him. He laughed “Wow this is going to be a long day, let’s do it!”

✈ Um hi! I hope you enjoyed my very first fic on tumblr. Please leave me feedback down below whether it’s good or bad. I will start working on getting a masterlist post soon! Feel free to ask me questions or make comments on ‘Ask Starrymin’.

✈ I will try my best to get the Mother’s day Barista!Namjoon x Single Mother!Reader fic done this week. My plan was to get it done today however colors took me much longer than I thought. So please wait a little more until I upload it!

✈ Anyways I hope you all have a wonderful day! Please stay safe and healthy. Also I’d like to wish Happy mother’s day to all the moms out there and even mother like figures too! 

→ Feel free to support me on Kofi

→ My BTS fic recs

[luminescencefics]

(there is) no time like the present

On his way towards the rest of their friends in the booth by the back of the pub, Niall finally spots Aisling’s auburn hair and glittery dress standing near the wooden table. He’d be lying if he didn’t think she looked quite pretty. Niall’s always known Aisling to be pretty, in a way that he knows that thunder follows lightning during a storm and that the sun always shines the brightest in the summer. It was just a universal thing.

But tonight, he finds that he’s entirely hyperaware of Aisling’s prettiness.

And he isn’t quite sure what to do about that.

A (short) story about a brown-haired boy and an auburn-haired girl trying to convince the world that they aren’t lonely, and how time really isn’t of the essence.

written for the 1dff discord server fic challenge

new year’s eve // roommates trope

niall/ofc, 8k words | banner credit

11:34

In Aisling O’Leary’s twenty-eight years of living, she has known two constants. The first being, she could never say no to people. No matter how hard she tried to, she just couldn’t bring herself to disappoint the people she cared about most in her life. She blames that on her trait of always trying to please people. The second constant is that she was a settler, in every sense of the word.

She settled with her group of friends in secondary school back home in Clifden. She settled when she chose to go to university across the country in Dublin instead of taking the leap and applying to schools in her dream city of London. She settled with her marketing position at a publishing house when her dream was to be an editor. And, she settled with her last boyfriend of two years, Cormac Hayes.

When he decided to end things with her three months ago, Aisling knows that she probably should have been more upset over it. Truth is, she stayed with Cormac for that long because it was easy. He loved her at arm’s length and she was okay with that. He gave her attention and loved her the best way he knew how, and although it wasn’t enough for Aisling in the end, she sort of just let it happen. And when she didn’t even shed a tear over losing her boyfriend of two years, she wasn’t surprised in the least.

That’s just how Aisling O’Leary worked.

She tries her hardest to ignore the constant ringing of her mobile from the inside of her purse under her work desk. It was Friday afternoon and she was practically the only soul in the office because most of her other co-workers decided to take the day off to prepare for this evening’s New Year’s Eve festivities.

Aisling didn’t really think too much about it, to be honest. What did she have to celebrate this past year? The fact that she received an end of the year bonus at her job that she hasn’t enjoyed for the past four years? The fact that she’s single, once again? The fact that she’s still living with her uni mate and putting off her goal of moving to London?

She pushes those thoughts away when an image of said uni mate flashes across the screen of her mobile.

“Niall, for the love of god, please stop ringing me,” Aisling scolds, harshly whispering into the receiver. It’s really no use considering it’s just her and the unlucky intern who couldn’t get the day off, but she does it anyways for dramatic intent.

“As lovely as ever, sweet Aisling,” Niall starts, the sound of whooshing air in the background a bit distracting. Aisling can only assume that he’s walking around outside, the sound of the chilling winter wind blowing through the phone loudly giving him away.

“Sorry, Niall. Just, uh, busy is all.” Aisling lies and Niall doesn’t even try to fall for it. She does feel a little bad for snapping at him, because it’s really not his fault that she’s in such a shit mood. And taking it out on her uni mate turned flatmate turned best mate just wasn’t really fair.

Niall Horan crashed into Aisling’s life during her first year at University College Dublin (the word crashed used very appropriately). She was sitting towards the back of her Art History lecture, a random gen-ed requirement her advisor forced her to take. She chose the back because she assumed she wouldn’t be bothered, but then eight minutes after class began, Niall ran in with flushed cheeks and his freshly bleached blonde hair standing up all over the place. And out of all the empty seats in the entire lecture hall, he chose to sit next to Aisling.

He spent the entirety of the lecture fidgeting in the plastic seat next to Aisling, looking over her shoulder at the notes she was scribbling down aggressively. He didn't even bother to bring a notebook, let alone a pen, to the lecture. Normally, Aisling would find that infuriating. But when it comes to Niall, Aisling has found that most of the things that should bother her just, well, don’t.

“I’m walking into the shops. Everyone’s been texting like mad about tonight, driving me up the fuckin’ wall. Did you put the group chat on mute again?” Niall asks and Aisling doesn’t even bother answering, because of course she did.

It’s not that she didn’t like her uni mates, because they really were the best friends Aisling has ever had. But when they decided amongst themselves that her and Niall’s flat would be the destination for pre-drinks tonight, conveniently leaving Aisling and Niall out of the conversation altogether, she couldn’t help but grow increasingly annoyed.

But in typical Aisling fashion, she just let it happen. She blames it on that first constant of hers.

“Just while I was working. Didn’t want to be distracted,” Aisling decides to say, pausing as she hears the sound of an automatic door opening and closing on Niall’s end. She knows he’s probably completely aware that she’s not that excited about tonight. But in typical Niall fashion, he tries to find the silver lining in every situation—even if he is feeling equally as shitty about this evening.

“Well, you’re probably the only person in all of Ireland working today,” Niall says, a chuckle added at the end to let Aisling know that he’s just messing with her.

“That’s not true. Sean’s here with me, having the time of his life.” Aisling watches the office intern sit at his desk with his head in his hands, clearly hungover and annoyed that he got stuck working the day of New Year’s Eve. She feels a bit bad for the lad, empathetic to his cause.

Niall agrees. “What’re we drinking tonight, Aisling? How ossified do we feel like getting, scale of one to ten?”

Aisling sighs. She knows getting drunk off her arse tonight is probably not the best move to make. But then she starts to think of her friends and how they seem a lot more bearable after a few drinks. She starts to think about the past three months of her life and how she feels like she’s just taking up space. She starts to think about the last phone call she had with her mam, and how she’s suddenly begun to worry about her oldest daughter. She starts to think about her future, and how she’s not really excited about it at all, to be fair.

The more she thinks about it, the more getting completely plastered sounds better and better in her head.

“Whiskey. Lots of it,” Aisling replies, sure and assertive.

“There’s my girl,” Niall says, and she can practically hear the glass bottles being added to the shopping trolley. “I’ll see you when you get home. Let’s just try and have fun tonight, yeah? Forget about all the bullshit.”

Aisling agrees to try her hardest to do that for Niall. But she’s got enough bullshit going on in her life to hold anybody down, and if she’s going to try and get over it, she’s going to need a lot of whiskey to do that.

And some courage—lots of it.

14:08

In Niall Horan’s twenty-eight years of living, he’s known two constants. The first being, he puts too much trust in other people, not nearly guarding his heart the way he should. He’s always fallen too quickly and too harshly, never really thinking of the repercussions. The second constant being that he was always blissfully one step behind everybody else, overlooking hidden clues and secret hints, not really understanding the longing look in another person’s eyes, or why their cheeks heat up around somebody’s presence. He wouldn’t blame that on selfishness, per se, rather, naiveté. If it wasn’t hitting Niall right in the face, chances are he completely missed it.

He’s thinking about his unguarded heart while lining up the various liquor bottles he bought at the shops a few hours ago, creating a makeshift bar on the kitchen countertop. His mind briefly falls to Sheridan, as it does most times when he’s feeling a bit lonely. He thinks about her blonde hair and turquoise eyes and warm pale skin. How she was the most important thing in his life on and off for five years. How he loved her with everything inside of him, and he figured that would be enough.

But then she gets a job offer a world away in America, and she takes it without even looking back. Without even considering how it would affect Niall. Without even including him in the conversation.

He wonders if she’s always been selfish with his heart.

Niall tries his hardest to not think about it. She left Ireland almost nine months ago, and he really has been doing better. He wants nothing more than to forget about this year. It was one filled with heartbreak and anger and pain, and the idea of drinking his sorrows away to start over again is exactly what he needed.

But there’s no denying that Niall Horan is admittedly lonely.

He thinks of Aisling, and how she seems just as lost as he is most of the time. Back in uni she was always the rational one between the pair, always taking notes and showing up to class and making sure that Niall kept his head on straight. When he meets Sheridan at the end of their first year, he remembers instantly thinking that she was the one for him. He blames it on that first constant of his.

Sheridan Walsh was beautiful and rich and, admittedly, so far out of Niall’s league the second he met her at a mutual friend’s house party. She was studying linguistics at Trinity as a hobby, a job at her parent’s enormous investment bank already secured. Her family had an expansive estate in Killiney overlooking Dalkey Island and Niall did everything he could to try and fit into her world.

When he meets her he charms her instantly, and the second he realizes that she was in a different social class than his own, Niall runs into Aisling’s dorm room and begs her to strip the bleach from his hair. He spends Years Two and Three doing everything he can to impress Sheridan, and finally one night she gives in, and he feels as if he’s floating through thin air.

To this day, Niall still isn’t sure what it was about him that made Sheridan finally agree to start dating him. She didn’t approve of his course of study, she found his hometown of Mullingar to be quaint, and she never really understood why he decided to live with Aisling in their too-small flat.

If there’s one thing Niall can appreciate most about his friendship with Aisling (and there’s a lot to be thankful for, to be fair) it’s that she tried her hardest to be nice to Sheridan, even though there would never be a world where the two of them would ever be friends. Aisling showed Niall how to properly knot a tie to prepare him for meeting Sheridan’s parents, she explained to him the difference between an oyster fork and a salad fork whenever he had to go to fancy dinner parties, and she constantly reminded him that he shouldn’t try as hard to fit into Sheridan’s world, because she loved him just the way he was.

If only it were true in the end.

In reality, Niall has a lot to be thankful for when it comes to Aisling O’Leary. He just hopes that he purchased enough whiskey to try and make her enjoy herself for the first time in three months.

17:41

Normally it takes Aisling twenty minutes to get home from her office near O’Connell Street to her and Niall’s shared flat in Ranelagh. But she’s stalling, walking along the River Liffey in the brisk evening weather instead of getting on the bus to start getting ready for tonight.

Niall knows this, as he’s grown accustomed to Aisling whipping open the front door twenty minutes after five, complaining about the crammed rush hour commute while untying her boots and throwing her scarf haphazardly over their wobbly coat hanger. He’s currently watching the clock change from the half hour mark almost nearing quarter to six, debating if he should ring her or not.

As if reading his mind, Aisling shoots Niall a text, assuring him that she’s not avoiding their mates (lie) and that she isn’t contemplating ditching this evening’s festivities (lie) and that she’s stopping at the nearest shop to grab snacks for their friends (half-lie turned truth). Niall doesn’t bother telling her that their friends already agreed to bring food over, because he knows Aisling better than she knows herself sometimes. Instead, he writes, Do what you need to do, A. I’ve got a drink waiting for you when you get home xx, and Aisling starts to feel a bit more at ease.

It’s near six when Aisling appears with a shopping bag filled with crackers and the nicest assortment of cheese she could find last minute. Niall can hear her usual foot pattern by the front door while he starts pouring the two of them whiskey neats in the nice glasses Sheridan re-gifted him two Christmases ago.

“Sorry I was late. The shops were brutal, too many people banging about. Couldn’t even find the good cheese Cara likes,” Aisling says, entering the kitchen with a smile headed in Niall’s direction. He watches as she starts putting the items into the fridge and respective cupboards, avoiding making eye contact.

“If you turned your mobile on every now and then, you’d have seen that Cara and Robbie already got food for tonight,” Niall says, sliding Aisling’s drink across the kitchen counter.

Aisling gives Niall a sheepish look. “Right. I was just—”

“—Busy.” Niall gives Aisling a look she knows all too well, and she immediately feels guilty, slumping down in the chair across from him. “Your mam rang me earlier. Was wondering why her lovely daughter wasn’t answering her calls.”

Aisling chuckles softly, bringing the glass to her lips. “Ah, of course she did. Sometimes I think she rings you because she likes you a bit too much.”

“What can I say? Mam’s love me—especially yours,” Niall says with a grin, puffing his chest out a bit.

Aisling snorts. “Did she say anything of interest this time ‘round?”

“Just went on about how your da can’t find a proper barmaid for tonight,” Niall says, the mention of Aisling’s family’s pub in Clifden bringing a nostalgic smile to her face. “She might have also mentioned that she’s worried about you.”

Aisling frowns. “Worried?”

Niall nods cautiously. “Yeah. She thinks you're lonely.”

Aisling pauses for a moment, watching the amber liquid inside her cup slosh with each swivel of the glass on the countertop. She really hates that word—lonely. To Aisling, loneliness implies the absence of something. How can she miss a feeling she’s never even truly felt in the first place? The only thing Aisling has felt for the past few years has been complacency. And that’s one she’d love to shed with the new year.

“Well, she’s nothing to worry about. ‘M not lonely,” Aisling mumbles, downing the rest of her drink with one large gulp.

Niall cocks an eyebrow in her direction. “That’s exactly what a lonely person would say.”

It’s one of those rare moments when Aisling can’t tell if Niall is taking the piss or genuinely concerned. But with one look in his blue eyes, Aisling decides to go with the latter.

“I promise you, Niall, I’m not lonely. It’s been three months. I barely even think about Cormac anymore, so quit your worrying,” Aisling counters, beginning to pour herself another glass, this time a bit shorter.

“You never even thought about him to begin with,” Niall quips, finishing his drink as well. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

Aisling doesn’t really know how to answer that, because there’s no denying that Niall is absolutely correct. She just isn’t quite sure how to explain to her best mate that she never truly felt heartbreak in the same capacity that he did. Cormac ending things with Aisling did not shatter her heart the same way that Sheridan did to Niall’s.

Aisling starts to wonder if there’s something wrong with this so-called heart of hers.

“I think I saw it coming before it actually happened, ya know?” Aisling begins to explain. “I think I knew Cormac wasn’t the one for me. It made the blow less harsh, in a way.” It’s a version of the truth that both Niall and Aisling can settle on. And she can tell that he’s understanding as he nods through his final swallow of whiskey.

“Just want you to be happy, is all,” Niall says, placing his empty glass on the countertop. “It’s the beauty of New Years, my sweet Aisling. You can start fresh.”

Aisling just smiles, finishing her glass as well. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

And this time, she truly hopes he is.

19:22

Aisling is starting to think that it’s far too early for her friends to be this inebriated.

It’s barely half past seven and her friends had started to arrive nearly an hour earlier. After her unsettling conversation with Niall, Aisling resorted to locking herself in her bedroom with the excuse of getting ready. Instead, she sat in the shower for far too long until the hot water turned cold, building up the courage to just try and let loose for one fucking night.

The second she hears Cara and Robbie enter the flat, Aisling immediately fights the urge to down another whiskey neat.

There was a time when Aisling believed that Cara and Robbie would be the first pair out of their uni group to get married. They had been together ever since Aisling lived next door to Cara in the dorms during her first year at UCD. And while everybody else had seemingly tried to grow up during the past seven years, Cara and Robbie seemed content in their post-uni bubble.

Aisling was pretty sure that bubble should have been popped some time after their twenty-fifth birthdays.

“Oi! Aisy! Pass me a fresh Smithwick while you’re at it!” Conor hollers over from the small loveseat in the living room when he notices Aisling heading towards the fridge for a new drink.

She nods, biting her tongue at the ridiculous nickname that he hasn’t stopped calling her since Year Two. Aisling’s just happy he isn’t calling her feek anymore.

If Aisling had the choice, she would never have had Conor worm his way into the inner-workings of their unusual friend group. But alas, Conor came along with Niall, and if Aisling wanted to keep Niall in her life (which she very much would like to), then she had to suck it up and deal with his unruly best mate.

Aisling passes Conor the freshly opened bottle of beer, smiling politely at the pretty brown-haired girl seated to his right. According to Niall, Conor’s been bringing her along to their group pub outings for a few weeks now. Aisling promised to remember her name if she stuck around for another month. Conor had a bad habit of flying through girls, and it became harder with each new face to remember their names.

Aisling heads back into the kitchen to start preparing the cheeseboard, watching in her periphery as a long slender red-painted finger reaches out to snatch a stray cracker hanging off the side of the tray.

“Wait your turn like everybody else, Han,” Aisling scolds, ignoring the snicker her friend makes in between bites of the cracker.

“Sorry mum, you know how I get if I don’t eat something before drinking,” Hannah says, her Scouse accent already beginning to muddle together. Aisling does her best to keep her eye roll to herself.

“It’s too early for you to be slurring. Lay off the drink until we get to the pub, okay?” Aisling responds, reaching out to grab the half-finished vodka tonic in Hannah’s shaky hands. She tosses it aside, hopefully long forgotten by the time Hannah finishes eating something.

She watches Hannah nod her head agreeably, before sneaking another cracker off of the plate. This time, Aisling doesn’t scold her.

“I’m sorry you’re ringing in the New Year all by yourself,” Hannah says after Aisling has a sip of her drink. “Shite being alone, innit?”

There’s that word again. Alone. Aisling shrugs half-heartedly even though she doesn’t really agree with Hannah’s logic. Even if she tried to explain it to her, she knows she wouldn’t understand it. While Hannah’s been a great friend to Aisling over the years, she’s admittedly been quite selfish. Therefore, Aisling tries not to burden her with matters of the heart.

Niall overhears the conversation when he walks into the kitchen with Hannah’s boyfriend Rory, and immediately he starts to feel a bit guilty.

Aisling and Cormac would never have met if it weren’t for Niall. They both played together in Niall's men’s league for footie, and he thought that they would be a good match together. So when he gave Cormac his flatmate’s number one night after practice and a week later they went out to dinner, Niall really believed that he did Aisling a solid.

Now though, he feels a bit shitty.

“What’re you two gossiping about?” Rory asks, slinging an arm over Hannah’s pointy shoulders, unaware of the awkward tension left hanging in the kitchen from Hannah’s previous comment.

“Nothing, babe. Just sad that Aisling won’t have a New Year’s kiss,” Hannah says, the backhanded dig flying completely over her head. Aisling feels it though, and so does Niall, who immediately steps in.

“Keep drinkin’ like that Hannah and you might not make it to midnight for a kiss this year either.” The lightness of his tone makes it seem to Hannah and Rory that he’s just joking with them, but Aisling knows Niall, and she can hear the undercurrent of frustration laced between his words. So when she lifts her head up and looks at him and already finds that he’s staring right back at her, she smiles a bit, mouthing a quick thank you in his direction.

Sometimes, she’s really lucky to have a friend like Niall.

21:43

Niall slams down his second shot of whiskey since entering the pub nearly thirty minutes ago, and he’s finally starting to feel that type of drunkenness where everything seems a bit lighter and everybody seems a lot happier. They’ve chosen a pub in Parnell Square in favor over the crowded pubs in the Temple Bar area, and he’s happy with their choice considering the pub is filled with twenty-somethings instead of the usual younger, rowdier crowd.

After the incident in the kitchen, Niall finds himself keeping a closer watch on Aisling. While he knows the past few months have been quite hard on her, he didn’t realize how apathetic some of their mates were. He also didn’t notice how sad it made her.

He wonders if she’s always felt like this, and he’s always just been too wrapped up in his own sadness to notice her own.

Regretfully, he blames that second constant of his.

“Oi, Horan! Drink up!” Conor yells over from his left, another shot of whiskey waiting for him on the bartop. Niall tears his eyes away from Aisling, instead focusing on the overflowing shot glass in front of him. He gulps, already mentally preparing to slow down in order to keep his wits about him until midnight approaches.

Niall shoots the drink back, slamming the glass onto the sticky bartop and wiping the back of his hand over his lips. He can hear Conor cackling beside him, and he tries to ignore the elbow digging into his ribcage. He tries to find Aisling’s wavy auburn hair through the crowd, or even her sparkly long-sleeved dress, but it’s no use. She’s too far out of his view.

“Are you lookin’ to pull?” Conor asks smugly after noticing Niall’s gaze flittering over the other side of the pub.

“Nah mate. Not tonight,” Niall replies, the thought of pulling a random girl for the night sounding entirely unappealing.

Conor turns towards his friend, putting his back to his pretty date. “Niall, tonight’s the perfect night for a random lay. C’mon mate, it’s New Years! Every single bird here is looking for an easy shag. It’s been months anyways, what’re you waiting for? Sheri’s not comin’ back.”

Niall tries his hardest not to flinch at his friend’s words. He knows deep down that if he really wanted to sleep with a random girl for the night, he could. And earlier, he probably would have done just that to cure his loneliness. But now the thought of doing just that sort of makes his skin crawl a little.

Including the fact that he can’t stop trying to find his flatmate in the crowded pub. But he’s not quite sure what that means.

“Fuck off Conor. I know she’s not coming back.” Niall’s annoyed that his friend decided to bring Sheridan up. He just wishes everybody would stop fucking bringing her up.

Conor just shrugs. “Then why aren’t you lookin’ for an easy lay?”

Niall’s grip on his whiskey coke is so tight that his knuckles turn white. He grits his teeth before taking a long sip, before giving his stupid friend one last annoyed look. “Because sex isn’t the answer to everything.” And with that, Niall walks away.

“It sure helps though, prick!” Conor shouts from his place at the bar, and Niall just shakes his head, ignoring him.

On his way towards the rest of their friends in the booth by the back of the pub, Niall finally spots Aisling’s auburn hair and glittery dress standing near the wooden table. He’d be lying if he didn’t think she looked quite pretty. Niall’s always known Aisling to be pretty, in a way that he knows that thunder follows lightning during a storm and that the sun always shines the brightest in the summer. It was just a universal thing.

But tonight, he finds that he’s entirely hyperaware of Aisling’s prettiness.

He’s watching the way her head falls back when a loud laugh rips through her lungs, her long auburn hair falling past her shoulders, catching the dim pub lighting in a way that stops Niall dead in his tracks. The sparkles in her shift dress glitter with every bend of her knees or swivel of her hips, and Niall tries his hardest to keep his eyes off of Aisling’s lower half. Her eyes have that glow to them that only happens when she feels totally comfortable, and he’s wondering if it’s genuine or if the liquor is helping mask her unease surrounding tonight.

Before he’s caught, Niall pulls himself together and approaches the group.

“Niall!” Aisling squeals once he’s entered the small half-huddle the girls in the group have formed. She’s leaning in, a bit unsteady on her chunky heels, and Niall can feel the whiskey warmth of her breath fan over his cheeks. She’s definitely drunk, Niall thinks, securing an arm around her middle so Aisling doesn’t end up arse over tit on the dirty pub floor.

“Somebody’s havin’ fun,” Niall pushes through a grin, his arms tightening around her waist once Aisling presses two small hands on his shoulders to steady herself. She giggles and it sounds like the prettiest song he’s ever heard.

“Wasn’t it you who told me to drink away all the bullshit?” Aisling asks, finishing the rest of her drink, her head falling back on her neck dramatically as she swallows. Niall chuckles, grabbing the empty glass from her shaky fingers before it slips and cracks on the floor.

“Might’ve. But slow your roll, sweet Aisling. Still three hours left until midnight,” Niall tuts, smiling a bit when she huffs out in disappointment, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. He finds it incredibly adorable.

“Don’t leave me alone with these eejits then! They’re the ones forcing drinks down me throat!” Aisling calls out, pointing a skinny finger towards Cara and Robbie who look responsible. Her Western accent grows much stronger with each level of intoxication Aisling passes, and Niall knows that if she continues he’s going to start struggling piecing together what she’s trying to say.

So he laughs, removing his arm around her waist and throwing it around her shoulders instead, pulling her closer to his chest so that his chin rests above the crown of her head.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got ya,” Niall says, and Aisling smiles back, squeezing his hand that dangles in front of her chest tightly in thanks.

Niall squeezes back, thinking that if he had to spend the next three hours with her, he wouldn’t mind at all. He especially wouldn’t mind it if Aisling was still tucked under his arm once midnight struck.

23:38

Aisling has spent the last twenty minutes holding Cara’s curly hair back while she retches into the toilet. She stopped drinking about an hour ago once she noticed the pallor beneath Cara’s copper skin, knowing it was only a matter of time until she grew sick.

And just like clockwork, with an hour to go until midnight, Cara grabbed Aisling with shaky hands and dragged her to the toilet before vomiting into the porcelain basin below. Aisling rubs her friend’s back, wrapping her curly hair around her wrists to make sure the coiled tendrils stay vomit-free.

She wishes the night didn’t have to end like this.

But it seems to always happen whenever she’s around Cara. As much as Aisling loves her, she can’t help but wonder if this is how it’ll always be with her friend. She wonders when she’ll finally just grow up.

Once again, Aisling has to give up her night in order to make sure Cara’s isn’t ruined.

Cara moans under her and Aisling snaps out of her miserable state, asking her friend if she was okay and if she needed anything. Cara shakes her head, albeit still unsteady on her feet as she slowly hobbles over towards the sink. Aisling sighs for what feels like the hundredth time, wishing her friend would stop being so stubborn.

Before they leave the toilets, Aisling dampens some paper towels and blots it over Cara’s sticky forehead. Her friend swats at her wrists angrily, snatching the wet paper towels from Aisling’s hands and throwing it into the rubbish bin.

“‘M wearing foundation Aisling! Christ, yer gonna fuck it up!” Cara scolds, walking past her friend and fixing what’s left of her mangled curls into a topknot.

Aisling just frowns, wishing her friend would be a bit kinder to her considering she did just spend the better part of her evening holding her hair back and listening to her retch into a shitty public toilet.

“Sorry,” Aisling mumbles, because she knows she could never yell at her friend no matter how angry she makes her. Aisling would rather not rock the boat, so instead she just lets Cara take out her frustrations on her. She’s been doing it for the past seven years anyways, why stop now?

Cara says nothing. Instead, she irons out her black dress with her hands and leaves the toilets, heading towards their group of friends in the back of the pub. Aisling watches her go, taking a few seconds to herself to just breathe.

If Aisling were a different person, she probably would have told Cara off for acting like a Grade A Bitch. She would tell her to stop being so selfish, to stop making everything about her, to stop acting like such a fucking child.

But Aisling is not that person.

So instead she shakes those words from her head, focusing on regulating her breathing and making sure the redness in her cheeks goes away. She wishes she was the same level of drunkenness she happened to be a few hours ago, where everything seemed a bit more bearable and she wasn’t focusing on the shittier parts of her friendships.

When she emerges from the hallway, she spots Niall immediately. She’s found that he’s always standing a bit closer to her than normal, always making sure she’s okay and that she’s enjoying herself. She’s grateful for it, if she’s being honest, because out of everybody in this crowded pub, she’s happy that it’s Niall who’s standing by her side.

She watches as his brown hair flops over his forehead, hanging around his face in a messy boyish way. He looks handsome with his white button down shirt tucked into his navy blue houndstooth dress pants. When he turns a bit so he can laugh at whatever obscene joke Conor just made, she can see the way the shirtsleeves tighten around his flexed bicep, and the way his waist looks thinner when he swivels his hip, and the way his arse arches in his new pants.

Aisling is immediately transported back to a time when every movement Niall made would make her blush uncontrollably. When his hair was blonder and his laugh was louder and he wasn’t as muscley—when he would barge into her dorm room at all hours of the day and show up at Aisling’s library table and doodle notes and scribbles on her coursework. When she found herself crushing on her first ever real uni mate, when she tried her hardest to ignore it, until it ultimately faded as the years passed on.

But sometimes, in moments like this, the feelings would shoot straight into her chest like a lightning strike, and she finds herself struggling for air. It usually happened in fleeting moments—typically when he laughed so hard his blue eyes scrunched, or he held her really tightly whenever she had a bad day, and especially when he called her sweet Aisling.

And just like that, the moment is gone, leaving just as quickly as it came. As if noticing her absence (something that he’s been doing a lot of tonight), blue eyes meet hazel and he cocks his head in concern, the silent question of Are you okay? floating through the air until it stops right in Aisling’s path.

She nods her head and it’s entirely unconvincing. But before Niall could leave their friends and approach Aisling, she gestures towards the bar with a small smile, insinuating she was going to grab a new drink. Niall just nods, staring at her as she approaches the bartop.

As soon as she feels the heat of his gaze leave her back, Aisling orders a water. Suddenly, she doesn’t want to be here anymore, the dreaded feelings she had earlier in the day flooding her insides without warning. She doesn’t give a fuck about midnight anymore, doesn’t give a fuck about watching her mates cheers to the start of a new year.

She just wants to leave.

23:55

Niall turns away from his conversation with Conor, wondering why Aisling hasn’t returned to their spot in the back of the pub. He watched her head towards the bar almost ten minutes ago, and he’s not quite sure if there’s something wrong.

He’s reminded back to the lifeless look in her eyes when she left the toilets with Cara moments ago, and he instantly feels his stomach drop a little at the thought of something bad happening to her. Did they get into a fight? Did Cara say something to upset her? Where the fuck is she?

“Cara, where’s Aisling?” Niall asks, leaning into her ear to talk over the loud music. He cranes his neck towards the bar where he last saw her, and finds that her auburn hair is no longer in view.

Cara shrugs her shoulders, looking less than interested in this conversation. “Dunno, mate. Fucked off in the jacks ‘coupla minutes ago.” Niall scrunches his nose at the lingering smell of bile on her breath.

“What’d you do?” Niall knows that his tone is a bit accusatory, but he feels like an idiot for not realizing that Aisling was upset sooner. He’s instantly brought back to the kitchen when Hannah hurt her feelings, and Niall’s left wondering if he’s as much of a prick as their friends have been lately.

“Oh, fuck off Niall,” Cara starts, laughing even though it’s not funny. “Did nothin’! She probably just doesn’t wanna be ‘ere durin’ midnight ‘cos she’s single and all.”

Niall knows that isn’t true. He also knows that if Cara had asked Aisling herself, she would know that Aisling could give less of a shit about being single.

Niall’s suddenly left with the unwavering thought that maybe nobody has asked Aisling how she’s truly felt in a long time.

Before he can reply, he notices the countdown start to begin, and suddenly he doesn't want to be around his friends at all.

He wants to find Aisling.

23:59

Aisling can hear the ten second countdown from her spot outside the pub, leaning against the cold brick wall, cooling her down from the inside out. Her winter coat is still clenched in her right hand, the heat of her anger keeping her warm against the evening breeze.

Her eyes are closed tight and she’s trying her hardest not to cry. Aisling knows it’s stupid—crying over her friends who didn’t even spare her a second glance when she stormed out of the pub door. She doesn’t want to blame them, because even though they can be selfish and unaware of her sadness, Aisling has let it slide for far too long. She’s starting to think that her friends have grown accustomed to her knack of shrugging things off her shoulder, and she really only has herself to blame.

Aisling sighs as she hears the countdown end, the sounds of celebration reverberating through the thick brick. She’s ringing in this new year alone, as it seems, and she wonders if she’s part to blame for it.

She wonders why she’s never spoken up when her friends overlook her feelings and say hurtful things about her. Aisling knows that they aren’t intentional, and that her friends don’t truly mean to hurt her feelings, but part of her wishes they would just understand.

She wonders why she’s never been bold enough to go after the job she actually wanted. Why she stays working her shitty desk job day after day, losing interest in everything around her. Why she never acted on that job listing she received an email from in London, why she never even tried to move there in the first place.

She wonders why she’s wasted so much time trying to find love in boys who can never offer her what she truly needs. Why even though Cormac was a sound lad, she knew he wasn’t right for her, but the thought of leaving him was much more difficult than staying, so she chose the easier option.

Aisling wishes she was the type of person to speak up, to act on what she wants, to simply be better.

But she isn’t.

So she sinks down to the cool pavement below her, her neck stretched upwards as her head rests on the brick wall. Her eyes are still closed shut, and she thinks that if she keeps them closed, she can squeeze out the girl she so badly wants to get rid of.

She thinks that when she opens her eyes again, she’ll be a new person. The person she wants to be.

00:03

Niall finally finds Aisling outside, her head resting against the wall upturned towards the night sky. Her eyes are closed and Niall’s eyes are trained on her long ivory neck, and he wonders what would have happened if he came out here just as the clock struck midnight.

He shakes that thought from his head, because she looks so small. So unsure. So sad.

Aisling doesn’t look at Niall until he’s sitting near her with his warm hand resting on her bent knee. He’s looking at her as her eyes flutter open, hazel eyes glassy from the tears threatening to fall. He knows Aisling though—knows her so well that she won’t let them fall, no matter how badly she wants to.

She offers Niall a weak smile, and he’s sitting close enough that he can see her bottom lip wobble. It makes him angry.

“Ready to get out of here?” Niall asks softly, ignoring the millions of other questions he wants to ask her. He knows how fragile she is. How adamant she is about not explaining her feelings, so he takes the easy way out even though it kills him to do so.

Aisling smiles at him, a little stronger than before. “Please.”

Niall doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he stands up, grabbing her winter coat in one hand and her smaller hand in the other. Once she’s standing in front of him, close enough that he can feel her shaky breath on his neck, he holds open her coat and buttons her up.

“Let’s go.”

00:52

Niall and Aisling have been sitting around the kitchen island, a half-finished bottle of whiskey on the countertop between them. Aisling’s heels are discarded somewhere near the front door, her feet resting on the unoccupied stool to Niall’s left. He’s rubbing her shins in between pulls of liquor, his navy blazer thrown over the couch, the top few buttons of his crisp white shirt opened to show his patch of chest hair.

They haven’t really said much in the fifteen minutes they’ve been home. Niall knows when to bite, and he knows that getting Aisling reacquainted with whiskey will make the conversation a lot easier.

So they sit. And he jokes. And she smiles.

It’s only after Niall says something stupid that makes Aisling snort—something that should be completely unattractive to most but Niall finds it incredible endearing—that her words make Niall’s heart stop.

“God, now I remember why I had such a crush on you in uni,” Aisling says after a pull of whiskey.

Niall stops his laughing, eyes immediately going wide. “Wait, what?”

“Oi, quit being an eejit,” she says with a roll of her hazel eyes. “Don’t act surprised, everybody knew.”

But Niall can’t help it. He is surprised.

Why hadn’t anybody told him? More so, why hadn’t she told him?

Was he really the only person who didn’t know?

“Aisling, why didn’t you tell me?” Niall asks, his voice void of teasing. He’s honest and when she looks deep into his ocean eyes, Aisling realizes that she probably shouldn’t have mentioned the crush she had on him in uni seven years ago.

“I genuinely thought you knew. Christ Niall, everybody knew,” she whispers, placing the whiskey bottle back on the table separating them.

“I just—I,” Niall’s confused. And overwhelmed. And slightly angry with himself. “Just wish I knew, is all.”

“Why? It wouldn’t have changed anything, Niall. It was years ago. And you were with Sheri. It really isn’t a big deal, I shouldn’t have said anything—”

“—Don’t do that,” Niall says abruptly, cutting her off.

Aisling’s eyes widen, mirroring Niall’s. “Do what?”

Niall huffs in response, running a frustrated hand through his messy hair. “Act like your feelings don’t matter. They do. And I just—fuck, I dunno, Aisling. I just wish I fucking knew.”

“Why, what would you have done?” Aisling asks, repeating herself, half out of annoyance and half out of sheer curiosity. She truly wishes she just kept her fucking mouth shut.

“Who knows,” Niall says, grabbing the whiskey bottle for himself and pouring it down his throat. “Probably would have spared myself the heartache of dating a girl who could give less of a shit about me. But hey, the past is in the past. New year and all that. New beginnings or summat.” He holds up the bottle in a false cheers, his eyes dull and harsh.

Aisling’s replaying what he said earlier over and over in her head, watching as her best mate continues to gulp back whiskey.

Act like your feelings don’t matter.

Has she been doing that for years now? Acting like her feelings are insignificant, like everybody else’s feelings are more important than hers? Like every thought she has is just her completely overthinking everything?

She reaches out and grabs the bottle from Niall’s lips, placing it on the countertop in front of them with a gentle thud.

“It’s not that I don’t think my feelings matter,” Aisling starts, her voice a small mumble. “It’s just—nobody bothers to ask. I’m always helping everybody else with their problems, and it’s not that I don't want to, because I’d do it for anybody. I’m just different, I suppose. I keep things in, because sometimes the things I try and say are just shit, if I’m being honest. So I don’t really say anything.”

Niall sighs sadly, reaching across the countertop for Aisling’s hand instead of the whiskey bottle.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Niall starts, a sad look on his face. “I’m sorry I never bother to ask sometimes. It’s just, fuck Aisling, you’re just hard to read sometimes. And it’s so frustrating ‘cos you’re my best mate, yeah? I care about you so much.” Niall’s thumbs are brushing against Aisling’s hands and she tries her hardest not to shudder. “Hate when you keep things in. Need you to tell me, yeah?”

Aisling nods and she prays that Niall keeps his hands in hers.

“‘M sorry too, Niall. Care about you, too. Quite a bit.” Aisling is wondering if she’s imagining Niall leaning closer towards her, or if she just wants it to happen so badly that she’s conjuring it up in her own head.

Sitting across from Aisling in their tiny kitchenette, Niall wonders if he’s ever truly thought about kissing her before tonight. Sure, Aisling’s always been beautiful. And sure, she’s been one of his closest mates ever since they first moved in together. But as he sits here, watching the way her skin glows from the overhead lights, watching the way she’s slowly leaning in towards him, he’s really thinking about it.

So he leans in, too.

And he kisses her.

01:14

When they break apart, Aisling feels as if she’s on fire. Her forearms are balancing her upper body on the countertop, and Niall’s longer arms are holding her elbows tightly. Blue eyes meet hazel and their faces are so close that Aisling’s eyelashes are tickling the apples of Niall’s cheeks.

They’re breathing each other in before Aisling’s hand wraps around the back of Niall’s neck and she’s bringing his lips against hers for another searing kiss.

He reacts almost instantly, bringing one hand away from her elbow and up to her cheek, slotting his bottom lip over her top lip and holding back a groan from the back of his throat.

They break apart again, the edge of the counter digging into Aisling’s chest in an uncomfortable way. She sits back against the chair on her knees, her breathing labored and eyes blown wide. Niall’s staring at her, taking in her rosy cheeks and her messy hair, her swollen lips and huffing chest.

He thinks she’s the prettiest thing he’s seen all night. (Even though he knew that to begin with, to be fair).

So he stands up, holding an outstretched hand towards her body, giving her a boyish grin to which she returns instantly. “C’mere.”

Aisling practically jumps into his arms then, leaning her entire torso onto his with her arms wrapped securely around his neck. She can feel Niall’s forearms against the small of her back, and she’s standing on the tips of her toes in order to press her lips fully against his.

Niall squeezes against her hips and Aisling gasps, her mouth opening against his allowing him to lap his tongue against her own. It’s everything and more, and the sound exploding from the back of his throat practically causes Aisling to melt against his chest.

His hand is knotted into her hair, pulling back slightly so that she can reach his mouth. Aisling slowly starts to back Niall up against the wall adjacent to the hallway, and with that support he can run his hands down her back and against her bum, squeezing the skin through her glittery dress. When he pulls away for a breath, Aisling starts to kiss down the hollow of his throat, sucking a lovebite against the juncture of his neck and shoulder, causing Niall to rock his hips against hers.

“Christ Aisling,” Niall says through a strained breath, his head falling back against the wall when she blows over the fresh mark on his skin.

She steps away cautiously, her eyes wide in anxiousness. Was she doing too much? Niall practically whines when the warmth of her body leaves his own far too quickly, and his arms stretch out to bring her back to him.

“Is it too much? We can stop and forget that it even—”

“—What? Christ, who’s being the eejit now? Don’t leave,” Niall rushes out frantically, pulling Aisling flush against his chest to continue what they were doing before she left.

Aisling giggles into his mouth and it’s probably the sweetest sound he’s ever heard (a close second to her groaning into his mouth earlier). Before she can retreat again, he begins walking them backwards until she’s pushed up against the wall separating their bedrooms.

He breaks away and looks at her with a cocked eyebrow, a smirk growing against his strawberry swollen lips. “Mine or yours, sweet Aisling?”

Aisling laughs a bit, her arms still locked around his neck. Her hands are playing with the hair against the back of his neck, and he’s practically purring at the feeling of it. Without really thinking much (because how could she with the way he was looking at her?) she grabs the closest doorknob to her (which so happens to be hers) and opens it swiftly, dragging Niall by his forearms into the room until the backs of her knees hit her mattress and she’s falling into it with a gentle thud.

It’s all tangled limbs and pulled hair and knocking teeth, and they both could never have imagined their night ending this way. Niall practically rips the hidden zipper of Aisling’s dress off (“Sorry babe, can’t stop thinkin’ about what you look like under it”), Aisling tears through the remaining buttons on his white dress shirt, running her fingers through the hair on his chest causing him to groan against her neck (“Do you like that, Niall?”), Niall flips them over and when he’s leaning over her staring at Aisling hungrily in her cute little matching underwear set, he’s practically drooling at the mouth (“Dear god Aisling, you’re beautiful”), and when they’re both stripped down to nothing but skin and Niall’s leaning on his forearms over her, pushing into her with one swift breath, Aisling can feel herself falling apart inside (“Christ Niall, you’re everything”).

And when it’s all over and done with and they’re both lying against each other, breathing in and out, Aisling suddenly has a realization.

Truth is, maybe her and Niall were alone. But, for one night at least, they could forget about that. Why be alone by yourself when you could be alone together?

So with that thought, she cuddles deeper into Niall’s chest, feeling his hand tread through her auburn hair softly. Before she drifts off, he presses a kiss to the crown of her head, mumbling a quiet Happy New Year, sweet Aisling into her hair.

And when she mutters it back to him, sealing it with a kiss to his collarbone, she actually believes it for once.

That it was, truly, a very happy New Year (in the end).

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

taglist: @adoremp3​, @stylishmuser​, @ihearthemcallingforyou​, @verorax​, @unn--known​

[everybodyscupoftea]

the treat

frat jj x reader

a night in raleigh with your boyfriend

um this is way past overdue, i’m so sorry this took so long :/

(warnings: cursing, drinking, mostly proofread)

Between the whole appendicitis thing and the tramp stamp and just generally being there for you whenever you needed it, you thought JJ was past due you treating him to something. You weren’t entirely sure how you wanted to do it until one afternoon, you got a twitter notification about Canes single game tickets going on sale.

You knew that JJ had grown up pretty poor and despite having played hockey and been a fan, had never been to an NHL game. It seemed like the perfect plan, the one game that the Stars were in Carolina was even on a Friday night, so you saved up and bought the two of you really good seats, a few rows up from the glass.

Secret keeping wasn’t your forte, especially with JJ, everything you heard you pretty much told him, so it was extra hard trying to suppress your excitement about the game. You told your whole family and some of your friends to make up for it, the game was like two months away, you had to tell someone.

When the day came, you went to the frat house before JJ got home from class and grabbed his Stars jersey out of the closet. Drew, the other Canes fan, was sitting on the couch and he looked up when you walked in, “Oh what’s up?”

You gave him a fist bump, “Getting ready for the game.”

Drew nodded, “You want me to chip in for beer, might join you and JJ watching it down here.”

With a small smile you declined, “Actually I got us tickets for it. Four rows up.”

His eyebrows shot up, “Alright, that’s sick. JJ’s a lucky man.”

You laughed, “Remind him of that sometimes for me.”

JJ got home just as you were getting in your car to wait for him and walked over to you after parking. He looked confused, “Babe, did we have plans?”

“Not really, but I was thinking we could go get dinner in Raleigh tonight.”

He put his hands in his pockets and you could practically hear the wheels in his brain spinning as he tried to figure out if he’d missed an important date or something. He was staring at your outfit, a hoodie and jeans, trying to guess the vibe of where you were planning on going. Taking pity on him, you added, “It’s just something fun, you didn’t forget an anniversary.”

With a shrug, JJ said, “Sounds good to me, I’m going to change and then we’ll go?”

“Yeah, I’ll drive,” you added.

He really looked confused after that, you rarely drove for several reasons including your love hate relationship with Google Maps and parking. You waited in the car, scrolling aimlessly through Spotify, trying to calm yourself down, it wasn’t time to get excited yet.

JJ got in the passenger seat wearing jeans and a nice pullover that you’d gotten him for his last birthday. He leaned over the console, kissing you before pulling away to buckle in. You started backing out as he asked, “How was your day today?”

“Pretty good, didn’t do much because my class got cancelled. How about you?”

“My test went well I think, and I met with my advisor about scheduling next semester.”

You hummed in response and focused on merging onto the interstate, already a little nervous. The GPS was muted, so JJ wouldn’t hear where you were going, but that also meant you were having to drive and navigate at the same time.

By the time you got near the arena there was a line of cars and JJ was looking out the window in confusion. He looked over at you, “This restaurant is pretty poppin, huh? Hope you got a reservation.”

“I did,” you answered with a snort.

He leaned his head against the window as you turned off the main road onto the one that leads to the parking lot. When you pulled into a spot decently far from the arena he perked up, looking at the building curiously.

“Wait, where are we right now?”

You grinned, pulling his jersey out from the backseat, “I might have lied a little bit about where we’re going.”

“Holy fuck, you got us tickets?”

“I did.”

JJ whooped loudly, getting out of the car to tug his jersey on and run around to pull you out and into a hug. You laughed at his excitement, and he spun you around a few times. He pulled away enough for you to put your jersey on and then retake his hand.

“I wondered why we were going out on a night the Canes were playing.”

“Well, now you know.”

“I do,” he said, swinging your linked hands back and forth between the two of you. The tickets were on your phone luckily, and you were able to keep your seat location a secret. Doors had already opened, so the two of you were able to walk in, and you pulled him to a stop at the first bar.

JJ immediately started to pull out his wallet and you pushed his hand, “Nah, I got it all tonight.” He went to protest and you interrupted before he could start, “Babe, you have my initials tatted into your back and a belly button piercing for me. Please let me buy you a beer.”

He laughed loudly and put his wallet back, “Fair enough.”

You ordered two Bud Lights and handed him one before pulling him along behind you. It looked like he was about to go up the escalator to the upper section, but you grinned, “Nah, babe, we’re going down.”

“What?”

He was shocked when you finally stopped, four rows up from the glass, close to center ice. It was rare JJ, who always had something to say, was speechless, but he was. You grabbed the front of his jersey and pulled him into a kiss, and when the two of you broke apart, you asked, “So, what do you think?”

“What do I think? I think this is fucking awesome!”

“I knew you’d never been to an NHL game before and I thought it would be kind of fun.”

“Kind of? This is going to be a fucking blast!”

The whole night, the smile never left his face, even when you were chirping his team’s inability to score. After another whiffed shot, you looked over, “Y’all got Seguin, and for what? Less scoring?”

JJ put you in a gentle headlock and ruffled your hair, “Put some respect on his name, it’s one off night.”

“Nah, baby, tell that to your abysmal road record.”

“Damn,” he responded with a pout, “you don’t have to come for the Stars like that.”

“I do when they’re playing my team, bitch.”

“You better watch your mouth; I feel a comeback on the way.”

“Oh, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

JJ was wrong, but he still had a great time. Screaming along with the other Stars fan in your section when the Canes missed an empty net. Everyone was standing at the end when the Stars had a powerplay and you gripped on his jersey sleeve.

“Ah fuck,” he told you when the final buzzer went off.

You laughed, “Shoutout baby!”

JJ reached around and pulled your hood up over your head. You squealed and tried to shove him off. He laughed, “What do you have to say to me now?”

Finally pushing him away, you fixed your hood and glared at him, “Your team sucks.”

He staggered, hand coming up to his heart with a fake look of hurt, “Baby, your words cut deep.”

You grinned, “Since you’re the loser, you have to give me a piggy back ride all the way to the car.”

“You can’t walk?”

“I had five beers,” you told him, holding up four fingers.

“Okay, yeah, fair enough.”

JJ pulled the two of you off to the side, away from the flow of foot traffic, and let you climb on his back. You draped your arms over his shoulders and tugged at the strings on his jersey. He huffed, “God, you weren’t this drunk during the game.”

“I was sitting, now I am standing. Hits different.”

“Where are the keys?”

You reached around, pulling them out of your back pocket, and handed them to him. JJ let you down by the passenger seat and opened the door after unlocking the car. Climbing in, you pulled the seatbelt across while JJ closed the door and jogged over to the other side.

“Feel like eating?” he asked, starting the car up.

“Chick-fil-a,” you told him, already searching Google Maps for it.

JJ took your phone with a sigh when you got sidetracked and picked the closest location. By the time he pulled in, the parking lot was packed and you groaned, leaning dramatically against the window. His lips quirked up briefly before saying, “We’ll go drive-thru and pull off somewhere to eat in the car.”

“Oh my god, a genius.”

JJ laughed, “I’m glad you think so.”

He knew your order, and you lost track of time as he pulled through, only zoning back in when JJ shifted to dig the wallet out of his shorts. You slapped lightly at his hand, “No, my treat.”

With a sigh, he took your wallet. When he handed you the food, he held a finger up, “Last time tonight you’re paying for me ma’am.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you dismissed, giggling and slapping his hand away when he reached for the bag to dig out a fry.

“The betrayal,” he gasped, dramatically, and pulled into a parking space so the two of you could eat, “my very own girlfriend won’t allow me sustenance.”

“My money, my food,” you told him playfully, batting his hand away again.

“I will leave you in Raleigh,” he threatened.

“You won’t.”

“Bet.”

“Alright, bet,” you raised your eyebrows and crossed your arms, and after about a twenty second stare-off, he looked away in defeat. You cheered and handed him his sandwich, “That’s right, can’t ditch me.”

He shook his head, snorting quietly, “You know I never want to.”

“I-“ you started, “you’re such a sap.”

“Only for you, babe.”

“Good. You’re the only man I’d ever buy hockey tickets for.”

“Good.”

[welcometophu]

The Meaning of Home, Chapter 1

The Meaning of Home Chapter 1

Tags for all Welcome to PHU novels will be available at the PHU tag list on Pillowfort. This list is under construction as of Sept. 5, 2021.

[ First | Next ]

Even knowing that he’ll see him at the end of the trip, it’s strange for Pawel to be driving to his childhood home without Conor in the car. Usually his son would be requesting music changes, playing videos so loud that Pawel could hear them even with Conor’s headphones in place, or generally talking up a storm. Even after cranking the radio up to fill the silence, Pawel feels alone in a way he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

He can’t blame it entirely on Conor. Yes, as a single father he hasn’t had much, if any, time to himself in the last nine years. But this past academic year has been chaos to the point where it seems strange not to have one of his students in the car as they head off to save the world.

Students, yes, but he’s not that much older than most of them. Some of them are friends as well.

Rest. Take the summer and rest.

The voice in his mind sounds suspiciously like Mac, and he hears Carolyn’s soft, aggravated huff not long after as she adds, Get normal amounts of sleep. Take a shower. Eat real food.

Spend time with your kid, imaginary Mac adds.

Great. He’s back to being that only child who used to have conversations with invisible friends, except now, as an adult, it’s advice about self-care from real people who aren’t even here.

The thing is, they’re not wrong. He knows he has a tendency to focus intently on the one most important thing at hand and tune out everything else. Since fall semester—for the first time in nine years—that wasn’t Conor, and he still feels guilty about that. He feels the kind of guilty that means there are two brand new games for Conor’s handheld system in a bag on the back seat, along with a cooler holding freshly butchered grass-fed bison steaks as a thank you for his father for helping him out.

Pawel exhales.

Maybe he’s having a little trouble letting go of the chaos. In a way, it felt good to be busy. To fix things.

They saved the world.

Nobody knows it, but it happened. And Pawel knows, so he should be satisfied with a job well-done.

The question is: what can he do now?

Rest.

For all that they’re imaginary, the voices of his students are right, and he knows this. It’s just hard to let it all go, to accept that the chaos has ended and he can do that. But he’s clean-shaven, and his hair is neatly trimmed, even if he didn’t go back to his buzz cut. He looks older in the mirror than he remembers being when the school year began. He might even look his age, which would go a long way to gaining respect from incoming freshmen in the fall.

He just needs something to do with himself while on vacation over the summer.

Maybe his old dojang would let him step into a taekwondo class or two while he’s visiting Dad. It’d be nice to be the student rather than the instructor for once.

You couldn’t let go of control that much.

“Shut up.” He says it as if imaginary Mac would even listen.

One song ends, and for a second, the silence in the car echoes before the next song begins.

This isn’t working.

He reaches out to touch the button on his radio dash for the phone, then presses Mac’s number from his contact list.

“Aren’t you with your family?” She starts speaking without bothering to greet him.

He adjusts the volume so that her voice isn’t quite so loud. “Hello to you, too. I’m almost there now. It’s quiet in the car. No Conor. Not even any grouchy almost adults grumbling about saving the world, or muttering about sparring.”

Mac snorts softly. “I’m only a few years younger than you, Pawel. And out of us all, Rory’s probably got the oldest soul. I take it you’re bored?”

“A little,” he admits. “Pels’s family moved into the house on Friday, then left for Burlington. As far as I know, everything’s gone well up there; they weren’t back before I left the house today. Anita’s got my number in case she needs anything for the house while they’re renting it out this summer. Traffic’s been decent, so I’m maybe fifteen minutes from my Dad’s house now, and the silence is killing me. How’s your summer break going?”

There’s a delay before Mac replies, and her voice sounds determinedly cheerful when she does. “It’s a break. I’m thinking about my research, and the fact that my advisor is in Italy until the end of June and told me I can’t work without him there. Which means Mom thought I should come home for a while, and right now things are… awkward… with me and Dad. So. There’s that.”

When Mac says it, Dad means Senator Delwin Palmer. Pawel knows what that meant to Mac as a part of a secret government training program for Talented children, before she came to PHU. He knows that everything they learned about the government involvement in the creation of the soul-destroying Shadows has only made her relationship with her stepfather more difficult.

He makes a small noise. “Are you going back to PHU soon?”

“Mid June, so I’ll be here about three weeks. I’m going to take my brother to the festival when Rory and Thorne are in DC in a couple of weeks, and I’m spending most of my time in the museums and libraries in DC until then.” She exhales. “I’ve thought about going to see my father, but I think that’ll be the weekend that I drive back up to PHU. I’ll just stop in to visit him in the city while he’s got some time off work.” Mac hesitates, her words more forceful when she asks, “How long are you planning on staying with your dad?”

Fine, Pawel will accept the change of topic, changing conversational directions at the same time as he takes the exit into town that will lead to his childhood home.

Sort of. It’s not the same house he grew up in, but it’s close to the same neighborhood.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I’m on leave for the summer. It’s not a sabbatical—they don’t do that for less than a year, and right now they won’t let me go for a whole year until the department has more experienced faculty. But it’s a paid leave and I’m supposedly researching my next book. The thing is, Dad doesn’t have a lot of space since he moved into the retirement community. I’m going to be crashing on his couch. Conor’s got the bed in the guest room.”

“Sounds great for your back.” Mac laughs. “You’ll probably still sleep better than you did for most of the spring.”

“Probably,” Pawel agrees. “I think—” He stops abruptly, because that makes it sound like he has a plan in place. “I’m going to play it by ear. Conor’s made friends there, although he’s clearly missing Alan and home, too. Everyone keeps telling me that I need to just stop trying to fix things and take a break. Including a voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like you.”

“Good to know my voice has infected your brain, like the way I hear yours saying ‘commit to the kick’ whenever I’m sparring and going for that head kick against a much taller opponent,” Mac says dryly.

“They’re all taller than you.” Pawel takes a series of turns, remembering to turn left instead of right at the critical intersection. He slows down; there’s no one else on the road behind him to annoy, and he’s not quite ready to arrive yet.

Mac sputters. “Rude.”

“True.”

“Fine. True,” she agrees. “Taekwondo is a sport for tall people. I’m just a good jumper, and before you say it, no, I’m not teleporting to get there. Most of the time.”

He rolls down the road towards a four-way stop. There’s a sign across the way proclaiming the entrance to Hart Acres. If he turned left, he could make his way to the police station where his dad works, and right would loop him back behind his old neighborhood.

Straight takes him into his dad’s new life in a retirement village where half the people who live there aren’t actually retired. His dad’s been living there for a year, and Pawel’s not sure when he’ll finally step down as Police Chief. He likes his work far too much to give it up.

Dad says it’s easier to keep working when he doesn’t have to worry about the little things like mowing the lawn. Hart Acres takes care of that for him.

Pawel’s pretty sure Dad’s going to work until he has both feet in the grave, and then he might just keep going.

“Hey.” Mac’s voice is low. “Did I lose you?”

Right. He was having a conversation.

“I’m just about there,” Pawel admits. “There’s an old lady walking her fluffy dog down the street. I guess I should hang up. Focus on finding the place and not hitting the two people that are in the middle of the road having a conversation.”

No exaggeration. Now that he’s pulled into Hart Acres and is following the first traffic circle he encounters around to the second exit, there are small knots of people gathered everywhere. Including two smack dab in the middle of one of the side streets.

They see him looking and lift their hands in cheerful synchronized waves.

“I am really not ready to see my dad as the kind of guy who needs to be surrounded by old people looking for a social life,” Pawel mutters. He makes a disgruntled noise when Mac snickers.

He’s in front of the house before he can say anything else.

“Go,” Mac says. “Hug Conor for me, and tell him to work hard. He’s still in school, right?”

“Another three weeks, yeah,” Pawel says. “I might take him out for a day on Friday to head up to Buffalo for Rory and Thorne’s tour, though. It’s a holiday weekend, so maybe the school has the day off—they do weird things with snow days sometimes. Although the weather was strange this winter and they might not have the extra days.”

“Nikki would apologize if you need her to,” Mac says. She’s quiet for a moment. “Hey. You really should take the time to rest. Let your dad be the parent for a little while. Enjoy being home, and with your family. You don’t have anything you need to save right now. The world isn’t ending. Just have fun for the summer.”

“Only if you promise me that you’ll rest, too,” he responds. He wants to say that he understands that it’s not that easy. He understands that talking to Delwin Palmer is going to be complicated, and that putting herself back in that environment only brings the PTSD out in full force. “You can always call me if you need someone to talk to.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m back in the area,” she says. “Maybe we can get together and spar. I’m taking a break from organized classes while I’m home.”

Her old dojang isn’t full of happy memories like Pawel’s is.

“Sure, we can do that.” He catches movement out of the corner of his eye; the door to his father’s unit nudges open. “Conor’s coming out. I need to go.”

“Bye, Pawel. Rest.”

“I will,” he promises.

The music blares for a moment after she hangs up; he turns the key and silences it. He manages to get out of the car as Conor races around it and slams into him, hugging him hard. Pawel wraps his arms around him, and exhales as he feels the familiar crackle of Conor’s magic around him.

“I missed you,” Pawel murmurs. His hand is between Conor’s shoulder-blades, and it feels higher than it used to rest in this same position. “Did you grow in the last two months?”

“An inch since he arrived.” Dad stands on the lawn next to a girl about Conor’s age that Pawel doesn’t recognize. Her mouth is pinched and her brows furrowed. She has her arms crossed tight across her chest as she leans forward, a myriad of braids falling forward across her shoulders and down her back. Dad puts a hand on her shoulder, and she straightens up, shoulders relaxing. “I started a growth door for him here. We’ll need to get a mark on it for you so he can see what he’s aiming for.”

There was a piece of trim in Pawel’s childhood house that had marks for every few months of his age, from toddlerhood to adulthood. He wonders if the new owners painted over the careful notes made in his mother’s hand, and the messier ones his father wrote after she passed away.

“I had Dziadziu put Emma on the door, too.” Conor slips from Pawel’s hold and grabs his hand, dragging him towards Dad and the girl who still watches warily. “This is Emma. She’s in my class, and she’s a Weather Witch, and she’s my friend. We’re both new here. She’s talked to Alan with me.”

“I know they’re married,” Emma says with a heavy sigh and an eyeroll. “Conor’s not my boyfriend. I don’t want a boyfriend.”

“You say that like people have been trying to tell you that you can’t be friends because you’re a boy and a girl.” Pawel stops in front of her and holds out his hand solemnly. “Hello, Emma. I’m Pawel. And don’t worry, I understand that most people are full of shit. Right now my best friend is a girl and I can assure you I have no romantic intentions towards her whatsoever. And if I did, she might kick me in the balls.”

Dad makes a strangled sound.

Emma tilts her head, brow still furrowed. “I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t say that people are full of shit.” She takes his hand and looks at their joined hands in some confusion, then drops it again. “But you’re right. They are. Come on, Conor.”

“I think you’d like Mac,” Conor says as he walks by Emma’s side and they disappear into the house. “She’s small but fierce. She used to be a gymnast and now she kicks ass.”

Pawel should say something, but he did just tell them that people are full of shit, so maybe he can cut him some slack for language this time.

“I did say that someday you’d be lucky enough to have a kid just like you,” Dad observes. “That said, Conor’s been a good kid while he’s been here. Getting good grades, getting his work done. He and Emma bonded straight off—her parents disappeared not long before you did, so they had something in common. Except, of course, you’re back and they’re not. She’s living with a foster family here.”

There are a dozen potential things wrong with everything Dad’s just said. Pawel rolls the thoughts around in his mind as he heads back to his car, opening the doors so that he and Dad can both take several things into the house. “Do they know she’s Talented?” he asks.

“You know where the guest room is.” Dad points through the living room and kitchenette to the small hall beyond. “Right at the end there. Just take Conor’s stuff down. We’ll put your things to the side in the living room for now.”

Conor pops his head out of his room just as Pawel arrives. “What do you mean for now? Aren’t we staying all summer? I thought we’d stay here all summer, Dad. Dziadziu said we could.”

There are times when Pawel wonders what their family looks like from the outside: three generations having three separate conversations in tangled instances, answering questions in random order. He can see where Emma sits on the bed, Conor’s tablet in her hands. She doesn’t seem concerned.

“I’m sleeping on the couch, Conor. We’ll stay in town, but we might need to get a hotel room. I’m going to need a bed eventually,” Pawel points out.

“I’ll move in with Emma. Her dads wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t think they’d even notice,” Emma says dryly. “I like Conor better than Matt.”

“She has four foster siblings,” Conor stage whispers.

Emma looks up, gaze pinning him. “They aren’t my siblings. I’m an only child. We’re all just fosters in the same house, except Nevaeh and Jennie. I think they’re almost as good as adopted. Jennie doesn’t even remember her parents.”

For once, Pawel is the one getting whiplash from the swift turns in conversation.

“Is everyone Talented?” It’s the same question, asked a different way, and this time he throws it out there for anyone to answer. He drops the bag of Conor’s summer clothes on the bed, next to where Emma sits.

“Her dads are both Talented!” Conor bounces up onto the bed, almost knocking the suitcase off. “One’s Clan and one’s—”

“They aren’t my dads,” Emma snaps. She drops Conor’s tablet on the bed and stands up, her body shivering so hard that her braids shake. “My mom and dad are coming back. They aren’t my dads at all. I’m just staying there until—”

“My dad can find them.”

Emma’s mouth is slightly open, her voice a small squeak. “What?”

“My dad is really good at everything about Talented people. He’s an expert.” Conor nods quickly. “He’s so much an expert that he teaches people not to be stupid—uninformed,” he corrects himself, “about what it means to be Talented. He knows everything.”

“Not everything,” Pawel tries to stay, but Conor steamrolls over him.

“He just saved the world, and he’s friends with Clan and with Mages, and we know this entire commune of Mages up in Burlington and if anyone can find your parents, he can,” Conor says firmly. “You’ll do it, Dad, right?”

“I think I’d need a little more information before I can promise that,” Pawel says slowly.

“Your father is supposed to be resting.” Dad stands behind him, and Pawel doesn’t need to turn to know the look Dad gives Conor. He was on the receiving end of that look himself many times as a child. Dad continues, “The last time your father got involved in something, he disappeared and you came here.”

Conor’s mouth snaps shut, lips pressed and his cheeks flushed. “He came back,” he mutters. “He always comes back.”

Emma pats the bed and when Conor sits, she puts her arms around him and holds on. “Maybe mine will come back, just like yours did. Then your dad won’t have to go find them.” Her whisper is too loud to be entirely secret. “I don’t want your dad to disappear again.”

“Me neither,” Conor admits.

“Emma.” 

“Dziadziu!” Conor interrupts him. “Did you ask Emma’s dads—”

“They’re not my dads.”

“—if she can stay over tonight?” The sadness is gone from Conor’s expression as he bounces on the bed. “She’s got stuff in a drawer from the last time she stayed. She can get on the bus with me in the morning, and we can play games with Alan online later.” His gaze skates to Pawel. “If you say it’s okay, of course.”

It’s only been a couple of months, and Conor has somehow built himself a routine here. Pawel isn’t entirely sure how he fits into it.

It’s strange thinking about Conor growing up and growing apart from Pawel when his son is only nine years old.

“I talked to them,” Dad assures them. “But that means sleep tonight. It’s a school night, and I’ll be checking. No magic after dark. No surprise storms. No more rain indoors.”

“That was once!” Conor protests.

“Lights out by half past eight, and I want you asleep by nine,” Dad says in a tone that brooks no argument. “You’ve got plenty of time before then; we haven’t even had dinner yet. You might even be sick of each other by then.”

“Never!” Conor and Emma chorus.

Pawel has to wait for Dad to move before they can both slip out of the room, leaving the door cracked. “I’m glad he’s made friends here,” Pawel says quietly. “He and Alan are—well, I’d almost call them codependent sometimes. I was worried. But they both seem to be doing well.”

“Conor’s fallen on his feet, that’s for sure. He’s a lot like another child I once knew: just starts talking until he finds his spot to fit in. Might even have a bit of a savior complex.”

Pawel gives his father a dark look. “I do not have a savior complex. If I did, I’d have followed you into law enforcement, rather than going into academia.”

Dad smiles. “You’re still saving people. You just go about it in a different way on a daily basis. But it seems to me like you didn’t even hesitate when you found out your students needed your help. You can’t resist a puzzle.”

“Apple didn’t fall far from the tree, I get it,” Pawel mutters. “Fine, fine. We’re all peas in a pod, and a hundred other trite descriptive phrases. The Szczek men have similar traits.”

“Mm.” Dad leads the way outside, so they can retrieve the last few things from Pawel’s car. “Some of us have learned how to ask for help,” he says quietly. “Conor’s made himself at home in Emma’s foster house. He’s spent more than a few nights there, and yes, before you ask, I trust her foster fathers completely. One of them works with me. But that’s something you might want to think about this summer, Pawel.”

Pawel shoulders the backpack with his computer in it, and closes the door to his car. “What’s that, Dad?”

“You don’t have to do everything on your own,” Dad reminds him. “For the summer, you’ve got me. Think about what to do when you get home. The fate of the world doesn’t need to rest on your shoulders alone.”

It seems like everyone’s got something to say about his bad habits. The thing is, Pawel’s got help at home. He’s a single father; he knows he needs assistance sometimes. He’s got Alan’s family next door. Emily’s always willing to help out with Conor. But he’s also got… a lot of responsibility. He’s a professor, and a dean, and he leads Coven and the taekwondo team. 

Who the hell else is he going to rely on? Pawel does the things no one else is available to do.

“Don’t worry, Dad,” he says, because he knows it’s what Dad needs to hear. “I’m not going to overwork myself again. I’ll make sure I’ve got help.”

[ First | Next ]

Want to support me? – Patreon | Ko-Fi | Reblog & Comment

[arch-venus25]

The Head and the Heart, Part 4

Hello everyone,

I submitted this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy.

This chapter is less action heavy, but just as important. Thanks for hanging in there and reading!

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 3812

Part Four: The Aftermath

           The weathered professor seemed very confused but stood her ground and insisted, “Miss King, take the summer off.”

           “I just need a week, that’s all—and then I’ll get the methodology section to you—Dr. Watts I just need another week, please!” Antha pushed back. Dr. Watts set her glasses on her desk and then waved her over to a deep-tufted-leather sofa.

           “Antha,” her voice lowered, “I’ve known you for what—five years? You don’t become a valedictorian because you don’t like to write. You have been moody these past few weeks, you barely passed the final exam, and you’ve pushed back the thesis methodology three times. Last class, you were so distracted I would have rather you skipped. I know you, talk to me, what’s going on?”

           “My sister and I had a Friday night out with some friends and something happened.” Antha murmured, staring down at her feet.

           “Friday nights aren’t what they used be; did you hear about the fight that broke out at that dive bar off of—oh, what’s it called? You know the place—well, it was all over the news,” she paused gravely, “you weren’t there were you?”

           The twin nodded slowly. She felt overwhelmed in front of her advisor. She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut before replying. “Tessa’s date got into a fight with an old flame, it was a whole thing. But after…” She couldn’t continue. The advisor took her hand gently.

           “Did someone hurt you?”

           Antha’s eyes welled and all she could do was stare. As if she said the words out loud, it would become more true than it already was. The doctor’s forehead wrinkled as her brows gathered together. Having lived through the revolutions of the sixties and the proceeding struggle for equality, Dr. Watts knew the dangers women faced. She didn’t need an answer; she just wanted to offer shelter to a young woman. She knew just from looking at her student that whatever happened, it was beyond words.

           “You’re taking the summer and fall semester off—or at the very least take the summer off and go to a student counselor; its free, it comes with your tuition, so please use it. If you need anything you know you and your sister can come to me.” She wrote down her personal number and one for the counselors’ office. Antha held the little shred of stationary. She promised she would do just that.

        Shortly after, she left her advisor’s office and floated through the campus green and then waited by the bus stop. Her feet told her she was going home, yet her attention was somewhere far away. What can I say to a counselor? Who would understand what we saw at Hollow House? Without realizing, she had retrieved something from her pocket; she stared dumfounded at the pewter-colored iris that gleamed back.

        Antha couldn’t get rid of it. But in a moment of frustration, she chucked the marble-like eye into a nearby drain. She returned to her spot and tried to focus on scheduling a counselor. Moving forward, that’s what I need, she figured.

        A familiar wheezing crawled up the street. The sluggishness of a muffler that had seen better days filled her ears as she dazed at the phone number-laden scrap paper.  “—Antha!” Someone yelled. To her surprise she peered up to see Doug hanging out of his rusty Buick, looking just as timid as ever. He seemed anxious, for what reason she didn’t know. “I’ve been calling your name. You’ve gone deaf ol’ girl—you want a ride?” He asked with forced humor in his voice. She watched him blankly as his expression fell. “You alright?”

        Antha thought about it and suddenly felt stupid. All of her gusto about moving forward had evaporated; she lamely shook her head like a weary child. She felt like a little girl in a world that was too big for her. It all just seemed too much.

        The July swelter didn’t let up even with the windows down. The two didn’t speak as they made their way to their favorite pizza joint. Thrilled to be out of the unairconditioned Buick’s steel embrace, they collapsed into the far back booth of the pizzeria. All the servers knew it was Doug and Antha’s spot; they habitually kept it clean and empty, knowing they would eventually roll in. They made it to the “golden hour”. The sacred three hours between the lunch and dinner rush. It was their favorite time.

        “Whatchas want?” The straggly blue-haired waitress chewed her bubblegum like a goat.

        “The usual—uh hold on—when did you eat last?” Doug asked. Antha shrugged and realized she didn’t know. She couldn’t even think that far back. “Can we get a double order of the usual? But make two of them to-go?” The waitress didn’t even answer as she went to get drinks. “You want to talk about it?”

           “Nope. I said everything already.” Antha wasn’t mad at him, she was just tired. She was more annoyed that he would ask about the matter and then dispute the realism of what she explained. Doug grumbled when the waitress slopped the pitcher and straws down, vanilla coke-a-cola splashing everywhere.

           “—Hey, don’t we get like a punch-card or something? You know, for every hundred pizzas we buy, we get the next one free?” He politely suggested, his way of being confrontational. He was growing exasperated with the women in his life; he didn’t mind taking it from his close friends, Zoey and the twins, but he was having none of this waitress. She paused, chewed her gum, and left again.

           “Whoa, cool off killer,” Antha snarked, her spirits lifting with each sip of her fountain soda. She looked him over and thought on their friendship for a moment as he griped about that one particular server.

        Doug was a shy, lanky, ginger-bearded young man. He was passionate about things and supportive of the people he loved, but didn’t reserve much attention for the people outside of that parameter. He lived in vintage band t-shirts, had friendly light eyes, and a funny smile. No one could resist his unkempt wolfish hair or his corny sense of humor; he had a way of growing on a person. But he always showed up, his guitar in tow. That’s why Antha didn’t fight him when he asked about that night; she knew he actually cared and was trying his best to understand. He couldn’t help her though. No one could help.

        “How about we hang out this weekend, do a barbeque? Nobody grills a burger like you—and Tessa can make her sangria, huh, what do you think?” He tried to turn the conversation to open her up.

        “Uhh… I don’t know. I can’t plan that far ahead, I’m real busy.” She declined. The sausage pizzas arrived faster than expected and Doug dropped slices on their plates.

        “Busy yeah? Mmm-hmmm,” he bit into his slice, cheese tangling in his five o’clock shadow, “busy not writing your thesis, not eating, and not sleeping? Ant, the last time I saw you eat was a few days ago when I brought pizza over. You gonna talk to me?”

        Antha sighed loudly and glared at him. She was worn-through with the people in her life too. I’m too tired for this shit, she thought. She pushed her plate forward and abandoned her half-eaten slice. He saw her mild protest and his cheeks tinged pink. They silently stared each other down, him chewing as loud as he could manage while she obnoxiously slurped her soda in reply.

        Before they could hash out their issues a patron burst through the front entrance. “Hey—hic—you seen Ant? Where she at? The back?” Tessa was hiccupping and talking all sorts of loud, like she was in a club on a Saturday night. “Oh hey girls!” She pointed at the staff and sashayed herself to the booth; her bedazzled sandals slapping the linoleum like a jackhammer in the quiet place. The front door jingled again and in rushed Zoey.

        “I’m sorry,” she apologized to the front of the house and then chased after Tessa. “I picked her up because she was texting me weird messages—I thought I could calm her down with something to eat.” She explained to the table as she took a seat next to Doug.

        “I already ate today.” Tessa insisted, sliding in next to her sister and almost toppling over a pizza.

        “Oh yeah, what did you have for lunch?” Doug asked, his patience wearing thin.

        “GIN and uh—” she had to think about it but excitedly rebounded, “and uh water ice. Breakfast of champions!” Tessa thought she was quite funny, regardless how everyone else disagreed.

        “How about we have a little slice of pi—” Doug pandered but she wasn’t going to hear any of it.

        “Now who would put sausage on a pizza? Oh, no. I have enough meat in my life—you know what I’m sayin’ Zo—you feel me?” She howled.

        “That’s cute.” Doug’s patience officially went on vacation as of that second. He tore the sausage off some of the pie and then thrust the mangled slice in front of the drunk twin. “There ya’ go, just cheese—And you eat your damn slice too! This has gone on long enough—we’re going to have a barbeque and chill like we always do! It’s Fourth of July this weekend, did you know that?” He directed at the other twin.

        “This white boy’s hollering at you, oh lord…” Tessa cackled; her cheese dripped down the side of the table as she reached for some ice chips from an empty cup. Zoey was mortified and motioned to Antha for help, her friend was out of control.

        “Yeah—well this boy’s about tired of this foolishness! I don’t know all of what’s happened that night, but neither one of you will talk to me about it! Ant you’ve been practically dead, a walking zombie for three weeks—and Tessa, it’s three o’clock in the afternoon, what the hell has gotten into you?”

        “Gin.” She giggled.

        “Hey Katy? Can we get all this to go, with some two liters?” He yelled across the full length of the restaurant.

        Zoey handled the food transport as Doug buckled the twins into his car. He mumbled to himself, “…goddamn vampires my ass…” as he cleared his fogging glasses. Tessa began to mildly complain about the heat when the car stopped at a red light. They all noticed a young man struggling to get into a car at the gas station across the way.

        “Is that José?” She whispered. They witnessed his mother trying to steady him, juggling his crutches and searching for a spot on him that wasn’t bandaged. Adorned in a neck brace, shoulder sling, full posterior elbow splint, and full left leg cast. Poor José appeared like he faced-off with a combine. Doug glared at the girls in his rear-view mirror. The light turned green and not another word was said.

        He parked the Buick under the tree closest to the house and got the girls inside. Zoey did the same and brought the provisions to the shaded porch. It was too hot to do anything other than sit around by the fan or stay in the AC. Tessa went to her room when they got in; she felt awful about what she had seen at the gas station.

        They worked together to set up the tall pedestal fan on the porch, because the porch fan just couldn’t combat Mother Nature alone. They were in the midst of dawdling about when Antha accidentally fell asleep on the porch swing while Doug played the guitar. Zoey elicited his help inside to leave Antha to nap. The two were shocked with the state of things.

        Momma’s house was a frightful mess. They never saw it in its condition before: Dishes with dust, articles of clothing haphazardly dropped, laundry either half started or half done, it was difficult to tell. “Momma would roll over, I swear…” Zoey whispered. They agreed to tidy up while the twins rested, lest Momma rise up and haunt them. That woman was meticulous and was not above coming back from the grave to tell everyone what’s-what.

        As if life had been frozen in time from the month prior. The twin’s incident hit like a meteor and their friends now saw the wreckage. While they hadn’t admitted it out loud, they had stopped living too; obsessed with what happened that night at Hollow House. Grasping for a truth that they couldn’t reach.

        The overloaded dishwasher whined as it cycled and it reminded Doug of seeing José, busted up and struggling. That’s what really happens after a bar-brawl. There’s always a winner and always a loser. He half-heartedly swept the floor and thought to himself: these are the parts they edit from movies. The aftermath. The guns, the glory, the blood all made the cut; but the estranged motions we go through to try and find the thread leading back to our lives doesn’t. These are the quiet moments without answers, like loose ends dangling.

        Zoey crept into the kitchen and signaled for him to follow her to the porch. She had just hung the last load of laundry on the line for the afternoon. They were both beat and sweat through from cleaning. They shimmied the big metal ice bucket to the front, fearing they’d disturb Antha. She was so far gone that an earthquake couldn’t wake her. They popped two well-earned beers and exchanged the bits and pieces of what they learned from the twins over the past few weeks.

        “…that’s crazy, right? Like there’s no way what Tessa told me could be real, right? Did someone roofie their drinks?” Zoey asked him as she tied his wavy hair into a top-knot.

        “I’m just worried that something happened they won’t say, like they’re traumatized—I mean, Zo, I was driving to the bar and I seen them covered in blood on the side of the road. Tessa was screaming in the ER that a vampire attacked her sister—and then Antha all of a sudden, calms her down and explains to the doctors that they were lost in the woods, came upon the bed and breakfast for help, and that a strange man assaulted them there. Said they used a fireplace poker in defense, bloodied him up real good, and they escaped to the main road.” Doug took a swig of beer to recuperate.

        He was getting worked up just relaying the story, “But the cops, they investigated that place and found six bodies—slaughtered—in the basement, two of them the owners. The bodies had been sitting there for days before the twins got to ‘em. I’m scared that maniac’s out there. I mean—I’m scared in my own damn apartment when I think about it. What if they were found in that basement? What if we couldn’t find them?” He shook his head.

        “What can we do for them? Are there groups for people like this, who think they’ve seen something supernatural?” Zoey mused aloud as she pinned her jet-black pixie cut hair out of her face. The two pulled fresh beers out of the ice bucket and vowed to do some research after the weekend. They agreed their first goal was to get the twins fed and cared for.

        They watched the sun set into folds of purple, pink, and orange over the high grass. The heat of the day receded with the light, but the humidity persisted only to remind them that it was an intermission; the threat remained that the summer’s full force would return at tomorrow’s dawn.

        The grasshoppers were summoned as Doug strummed his guitar, not truly playing anything particular. Zoey brought out cards to shuffle, waiting on Tessa to play. The evening began to set in peacefully until a rumble cut through the twilight.

        A huge pickup truck barreled down the long drive and parked in front of the house. Out jumped the infamous Flake. His blond hair contrasted against the lavender sky, budding starlight glinting off his aviator sunglasses, and a tooth pick in the corner of his mouth completed his redneck-chic visage. He swaggered up to the porch and was met with a startled Antha; she had jumped up like a viper at the sound of his wheels. He donned a large patch like bandage over half an eye and his hands were wrapped too.

        “Tessa around?” Franco didn’t even offer small talk which had Antha go straight from just waking up to furious.

        “Not for you.”

“Well, I wanted to check in on her—haven’t been able to call on account of that scuffle at the bar. Them boys got my tires and my phone.”

        “Looks like they got your eye too.” She scoffed.

        “Yep,” he laughed and pulled his sunglasses down to reveal those piercing big blues, “you should see the other guy.”

        “We did.” Her disdain seemed to suck the air out of the whole yard. Franco leaned on the porch banister and pulled a smoke from behind his ear. Her eyes burned so hot on him she could have lit his cigarette.

        “I can see you’re not much for visitors, so I’ll just leave this. If you could give it to Tessa, I’d be mighty grateful.” He handed her a number, but she walked away not even considering it. Zoey jumped up and took the note. “Night ya’ll.” Franco flicked his butt into the yard and made his way back to his truck.

        Long after he left and the noise of his truck faded Antha sat, her arms crossed, on the porch swing. Her friends idled by, every so often glancing in her direction waiting for her to speak her mind. The disgruntled twin couldn’t connect the pieces of her dislike for Franco. It wasn’t as simple as his jeans were too torn, his truck too loud, or his gaze too heavy; it was the fact that she knew nothing about him. No one did. Where did he come from—and where was he going? It didn’t add up to Antha that he was the first hillbilly she ever met without a tan. What working man doesn’t have a farmer’s tan? Finally, after a good twenty-five minutes of contemplation Antha announced, “I need a drink.” With a flutter of Zoey’s sundress, she presented a liter of honey whiskey, lemon wedges, and shot glasses.

        A few shots and some pizza in her stomach, Antha started to feel somewhat whole. The four-hour nap revived her a bit, or least lessened the haze she had been wading through. She could finally take in her surroundings: she was lucky to have her friends. When the mosquitos really started to bite they brought their party inside and relished the cool—and now clean—house. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two, I’m sorry I can’t,” she paused, “I just can’t right now.” Before Antha could work out her sentiment the queen bee descended from her room.

        “That’s it! I have decided!” Tessa announced, thumping down the stairs like a sentinel charge. “I’m going to visit José tomorrow—even though it’s not my fault he got his ass beat, I still think it’s only fair to show love.” She waited, her hands on her hips, for their unyielding approval or preferably a round of applause.

        “Look at you growing a conscious,” was the general consensus of the other three. Tessa saucily tossed her braids as she dusted her shoulders. They all scooted into the kitchen table and fed her dinner. Just like a heart, she had a way of pulsing life into a room. Before they knew it, they were swapping stories like always.

        Tessa was laughing and teasing Doug when she took a shot. She threw her empty glass down on the table as was customary, but when the glass met the table it then clinked as if something had been dropped into it. They all sat forward to see a silvery-gray eye in the bottom.

        “Did you just spit that in there?” Doug’s eyes were wide.

        The twins beheld each other knowingly.

        In the beginning, they initially freaked out over the eyes returning. Now it became a sickening fascination of what they could do to them. The eyes always returned. They burned them, they drowned them, and they threw them away; every time the eyes returned to the twins.

        “I tried to tell you, but you’re not listening,” Antha began, “these eyes are following us. Ever since we killed that thing at Hollow House, we’ve had them.” Doug and Zoey’s faces were pained in disbelief.

        “Here.” Tessa got up roughly and held the eye over the sink. She turned on the garbage disposal and dropped it in; it made a grotesque metal sound and then after a few rotations, crunched like glass. Antha showed the eye that was always in her back pocket and explained she threw it away in a drain across town earlier that day. She threw hers in too, directly into the disposal.

        “Well, how long does it take for them to come back?” Zoey asked.

        “They’re not coming back—this is a trick!” Doug looked like an angry leprechaun with his reddened face and stubble. The twins’ faces didn’t even shift with the accusation.

        “Sometimes its seconds, sometimes hours, or a day. It doesn’t matter, they’ll be back.” Antha confirmed and the twins took their seats at the table. The room became solemn as Tessa popped another round of beers and poured a flight of shots for them all, knowing the liquid courage was needed. Doug jumped up from his seat and began checking under cushions, searching cupboards, and drawers. The girls sat back and waited as he processed.

        He huffed, “…you got back-ups, or hiding ‘em somewhere—I don’t know why you’re playing with me right now…it’s not funny…” But then a loud plop sounded on the kitchen table, like a golf ball dropped from the ceiling. He turned to watch a second oversized marble drop seemingly out of thin air. He returned to the table and gawked at the two eyes sitting in front of the twins. “You got to tell us what happened at Hollow House.” Doug’s voice was hushed as he shakily accepted the whiskey shot from Tessa. In unison they saluted and threw back the shots with beer chasers.

        While the four friends went over the sordid events, in gruesome detail, a mysterious figure watched from the unlit porch window. The uninvited guest crept off through the yard, down the dirt-path driveway, and made a phone call:

        “They got them eyes,” it reported, “I reckon there’ll be a war.”

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you!  I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken​ @just-the-hiddles​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @nildespirandum​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @latent-thoughts​ @emeraldrosequartz​ @villainousshakespeare​ @hopelessromanticspoonie​ @caffiend-queen​ @poetic-fiasco​ @lokimostly​ @dianamolloy​ @marvelgirlonamarvelworld​ @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0​ @cateyes315​ @mooncat163​ @nuggsmum​ @myraiswack​​​ @wolfpawn​​ @plastic-heart​​ @confusednerd09​