#i want to protect sean

[honestly-oceanie]

Marked me like a bloodstain || the dangerous ones edition + some additionals

Synopsis: drawing something on them

Warnings: if you are in a relationship where you are scared of your own significant other, leave the relationship already before it becomes more difficult. A romantic relationship must have mutual respect, trust, comfort and security with one another, it is not always about the butterflies and blushing.

《Dion Agriche, Jeremy Agriche, Rezef Hill, Dylan Sean Blade, Eros Orna Vasilios + two additionals | gn!reader》

{Supposedly fluff♡ | ▪︎imagine/scenario▪︎}

The Way To Protect The Female Lead's Older Brother

Dion Agriche

🦋 You decided to do this for no apparent reason. Or you just wanted a reaction from him.

🦋 You asked Dion for him to hand you his arm, he stared at you first as if questioning you why... now you really started to regret asking as his sharp gaze was rather uncomfortable.

🦋 Before you could retract your request, Dion reach his hand out to you without a word, indicating that you may do as you please. It took you awhile to process his action but you chirpily did as you initially planned. Using the pen against his skin.

🦋 You proudly showed him your artwork and explained it to him knowing that he definitely does not understand it. He just nodded then ruffled your hair before leaving. Now you're left wondering if this was even worth it at all.

🦋 Meanwhile outside the door, Dion stares at the doodle you did on his palm. It felt weird having the pen's ink on his skin though it did no much harm on him except painting some part of his skin black, he certainly won't use a pen as a weapon as he deems it useless.

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The Way To Protect The Female Lead's Older Brother

Jeremy Agriche

🦋 "You will do anything for me, right?" You asked your boyfriend and he nodded vigorously.

🦋 You asked him to sit still and closed his eyes and Remy followed you obediently. He could feel something poking on his cheek that seems to have a liquid substance but he didn't dare peek as you haven't told him to open his eyes and he trust you with his life.

🦋 After you completed your drawing, you let him open his eyes and you pass him the hand mirror so he could see it. Jeremy's eyes widen as he sees what you have done, he takes a close inspection of it.

🦋 You're growing anxious and scared, had you crossed Remy's invisible line? You had always been free to do as you please with him as he allows you too that you forgot about boundaries. But before you knew it, he tackles you with a tight hug and started showering you with kisses, he tells you to do it again. After both of you are satisfied, you ruffled his hair as you professed your love for him, grateful that he still allows you to do things.

🦋 Remy won't mind whatever you want to do with him as long as you do it within the confines of his safe and private room.

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The Villainess Is A Marionette

Rezef Hill

"Prince of Eldyme Empire"

🦋 You've been so bored out of you mind these past few days, you can't talk to anyone unless you want them to be gone, your servant's changes almost everyday depending on their loyalty to their master, whom is your partner, Prince Rezef.

🦋 Kayena does visit you at times to keep your sanity intact but not for too long, for some reason Prince Rezef just knows when to interrupt.

🦋 Since you pretty much have no one but him then he should be your target right? He doesn't want you to rely on anyone but him then so be it.

🦋 You ordered your current personal attendant to call for him, after a few Rezef finally came and told the servant to leave you alone. He then sat down beside you and asks why you called for him, you told him that you wanted to spend some time with him and asked him to give you his hand and he didn't hesitate, glad with your willingness and obedience.

🦋 He was quite amused when you started drawing on his palm. He knew you like art so much, maybe he should give you an art room as a reward for reciprocating his love. After you finished, you gave him a kiss on the cheek and thank him for his cooperation, you tried to be as lovely as you could with him to avoid upsetting him and might get yourself killed

🦋 He gave you that prince charming smile again and told you: "Anything for my princess." As he kisses your cheek too.

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I Tamed A Tyrant And Ran Away/ The Taming Of The Tyrant

Dylan Sean Blade

"The 13th Prince"

🦋 Dylan had receive losses in his life, first his mother, next his master, and now he obviously won't allow the same with you.

🦋 As the ink of the quill pen that you are holding spread across his skin, it reminds him that you are still there. As your warm hand holds his arm to keep him steady, it assures him that you are a real existence and not just a fragment of hallucination of his fever dream.

🦋 Soon you completed your work, Dylan kissed your palm that once held the quill pen previously. He swore to you in his heart, anything you wish upon, just order him at your will and he is eternally at your service. That is if you reciprocate the same loyalty to him.

🦋 He'll do anything you say as long as you stay and don't run away.

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Your Throne/ I Want To Be You, Just For A Day

Eros Orna Vasilios

"Crown Prince of the Vasilios Empire"

🦋 As the assistant of the Crown Prince, it was customary that you will meet other people, yet however, the Crown Prince seem to disagree. For some odd reason he likes to keep you to himself, he normally doesn't allow you to meet other people, which you're actually glad about as you don't like to socialize anyways.

🦋 Today is unfortunately an exception, you are forced to be a part of a meeting. You know it's going to involve a lot of people but you didn't expect it to be this many. Your social anxiety is getting the best of you, you're really really trying your best to seem normal as possible. Still, you can't help it when you fidget.

🦋 You subconsciously started swinging the pen that is in between your thumb and index finger. You didn't notice that the point touches the Crown Prince skin as you swing it.

🦋 Eros suddenly grabbed your hand, forcing you to a stop. You flinch at the sudden contact (hopefully no one noticed), you turn to look at the Crown Prince beside you. He put the meeting to a halt and asked everyone to scram.

🦋 After all others had left, he turned to you, his hand still holding yours while his other hand held your jaw. His gaze on you was so sharp and intimidating you couldn't face him at all so instead you looked down and there you saw what you had done.

🦋 Your nervousness and shock was completely visible to Eros who laughed at the sight. It wasn't helpful at all, you know what kind of person your boss is and it made you feel scared of him, already overthinking of what may happen to you, yet Eros only calmly stood up from his seat and held your jaw stronger, making you look up at him.

🦋 He merely told you to calm yourself first before you return to his office. With that, he patted your head before leaving you alone with your thoughts.

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2 Additionals 《Callisto Regulus, Cale Henituse》

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Death Is The Only Ending For The Villainess/ Villains Are Destined To Die

Callisto Regulus

"Crown Prince of the Eorka Empire"

🦋 Since you had nothing to do, you decided to go annoy your partner. As you arrive in his office, you just slam open the door and there, revealed your peacefully sleeping partner resting on his table with his arms as his pillow.

🦋 But you weren't just gonna stop there just because he is sleeping. After closing the door, you approach the table Callisto is sleeping at. Your eyes comes across the pen that lays beside him.

🦋 Grinning evilly, you pick up the pen and started doodling on Callisto's face. After some time, you notice his brows furrowing, indicating that he was going to fully awake soon, so you place back the pen from where you found it to avoid suspicion and skedaddled before you get caught.

🦋 Callisto stretched his arms that he used as his pillow. Finally getting the motivation, he stood up from his seat and decided to walk around a bit, as he walked past a mirror he noticed something and stopped on his tracks, he walks back to the mirror and saw his face now covered with doodles.

🦋 There is only one person that he allows to enter in his office without needing permission nor knocking and that person is most certainly the culprit of this. But he needs to wash his face first.

🦋 Callisto finally found the culprit, reading a book at the library as if they hadn't done nothing at all. A dark shadow looms over you thus you couldn't read properly anymore, you were going to scold whoever it was yet it turned out to only be your partner, Callisto, who was smiling back at you.

🦋 I suggest you sleep with one eye open tonight, he warned, and you were obviously gonna take this advice as you know very well what was gonna happen on your beauty sleep.

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Trash Of The Count's Family/ Lout Of Count's Family

Original! Cale Henituse

🦋 You and Cale have known since you were just little kids, you two had grown with such a strong friendship, you both were unseparable and unbreakable.

🦋 Lately you've been noticing that things have been a little different between you and your great friend. You both had barely spend time with each other not even trying to check up on the other. You've been busy with your duties as the heir of your family, and Cale busy doing his own stuff. Even when you both happen to cross paths with each other, he acts as though he doesn't notice you at all. Today however, he couldn't turn around anymore.

🦋 You were sitting on the tree you and Cale had claimed as your own, accompanied with leaves dancing with the wind as you compose poems on your newly-bought notebook yet you feel so uninspired. Your heart couldn't help but feel restless as you began to comprehend the growing distance between you and Cale.

🦋 Had you done or said something insensitive to him without realizing? No that couldn't be possible, you're aware of topics that are deemed taboo to Cale. Is it because you haven't spend a spare time with him? But Cale is knows how you are busy with your duties and you did promised to him that if you had the chance, you'd take a day off with him. Is it because you hadn't checked up on him? You know how reckless he can be yet miraculously he can still stand on his own two feet. You trust him a lot to know that he'll be fine though you still feel worried about him everytime.

🦋 And speaking of the devil, there he is, standing beside you with wide eyes as he didn't expect to face you today. You grab his legs and forcedly plop him down beside before he could run off, you are on top of him with your hands on either side of his head to avoid him from escaping. While you are determined to bring back the bond you both once shared, Cale's face is almost of the same color of his hair, he is extremely flustered from the position you're both in, if anyone could see this they would surely misunderstand.

🦋 You confronted Cale and he explained to you that he just didn't want to bother you at all, you sighed in relief, you thought you had done something wrong to him. You moved back to the place you were originally sitting as Cale finally gets to sit down properly.

🦋 You fiddled with the pen you were holding, then suddenly you remembered a memory from your childhood with Cale. You indicate to Cale for him to give you his hand and he did, wondering what you were gonna do but didn't dare ask. You started doodling on his wrist, a stickman and a stickwoman both holding ice creams.

🦋 "Is this–hmm... is this suppose to be us?" Cale guessed, you nodded cheerfully then asked him if he still remembered that day, and he cracked in a fit of laughter remembering that time you both tasted ice cream for the very first time, your reaction was most amusing.

🦋 The sun had already set to let the moon shine for the night, yet none of you bothered as you and Cale were too busy remembering memories you both share since your childhood up until now.

🦋 Who would have thought that happiness can be cut short that easily. Those laughter that you should cherish fades into mere memories. It was only yesterday but today is a new day, and new day can come new beginnings.

🦋 You didn't expect that your friend who just came back to normal, is not him. Your friend you've had a strong bond with, is not him anymore. Your friend you grown to love, will never be him. But is it really over just like this?

🦋 Same bodies but different souls. Can you really not be happy with him anymore? Are you really gonna lose this friendship? Could there really be no bond that may form at all? Is it really impossible to fall in love with the new him as he is? Or will you still cling to the hope for him to return as he was?

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Honestly, Oceanie

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[gerrycoco]

Me to me: you know, we don't have to make gifs every time Shipwrecked Comedy uploads something new

Me: ...

Me: besides we have a lot to do today, we really don't have the time to be doing this right now

Me: ...

Me: okay fine... just one (for now)

I couldn't help my self I laughed so friggin hard

*also if anyone has a moment from the DnD videos they'd like gifed I'd be happy to do so just hit me up

[cherry-treelane]

his hand on her arm/back is the cutest thing ever and yes i will be taking this two second interaction and obsessing over it

[lanayrutower]

hm. something slightly uncomfortable about totk's hyrule origin story huh.

[emilybeemartin]

A whopping, like, 2.6 people have expressed interest in my recent adventures in watching Bean films, which is all the encouragement I need to present to you:

An Incomplete Guide to Sean Bean Roles (Investigation Ongoing)

Our guy has a vast filmography, and I'm not even close to being halfway through it, but I've watched a lot of his significant ones in the past few weeks thanks to a perfect storm of illness, injury, and lapses in client work. Crucially, I have created superlatives for a variety of them and present them here for your benefit. Disclaimer: many of these films are violent! Or have butts and/or tits! Some have dick! Some have dated bits that didn't age well! So, if you have triggers or are watching with young viewers, do your research first! Also, these are just the opinions of one solitary millennial! Nothing is objective! Nothing is real! I care not!

Okay, CYA done, let's begin. I'll get the two most obvious ones out of the way up front, otherwise they'll dominate half the categories:

ACT I

Greatest Bean: Fellowship of the Ring. I've said it before and I'll say it again, he achieved more pathos with Boromir than a lot of his other roles have allowed for, and every note he hits just sings. No debate.

Best Bean for Your Buck: Sharpe. For the best confluence of quantity, quality, physicality, emotion, humor, and action, you can't beat Richard Sharpe.

Favorite Dramatic Bean: Time; he earned that BAFTA fr

Softest Bean: The first date scene in Stormy Monday, where Brendan shyly gets to know Kate, slow dances with her, lends her a shirt and strokes her back after she asks if they can just go to sleep instead of have sex.

Most Dashing Bean: Vronsky in Anna Karenina, that uniform cuts, damn

Swooniest Bean: I know I'm supposed to say Chatterley, and he is undeniably sexy as Mellors, but there are parts where his character is actually kind of off-putting. I'll lay a good chunk of the blame on the weirdly ominous score, the very of-the-time depiction of dubious consent, and Joely Richardson's tendency to look like she's having the worst time of her life while shagging the hot gamekeeper. No, I'm giving this category to Stormy Monday again. He's just so gentle and genuine in this one, without some of the obligatory "heartthrob" overtones of his nineties stuff. He never raises his voice at Kate or manhandles her. He really does feel like some kid who just wants to be sweet to his girlfriend.

Laddiest Bean: When Saturday Comes, specifically the strip club and bathtub scenes.

Favorite Sad Bean: As a collective, he has some great grief scenes in World on Fire, but! The railroad track scene in When Saturday Comes?! That was RAW.

Favorite Mad Bean: Black Death; there are plenty of movies where he doesn't smile at all, but unlike some others, his grimness and anger felt proportionate to the story, rather than just rage because he's good at rage.

Favorite Bad Bean: There are so many great Bean villains (Goldeneye, obvs), but I think my favorite is Patriot Games. Bonus points for all the different hairstyles he has in this film (long locks-shag-shag ponytail!-buzz-wet spiky buzz). Also HUGH FRASER AAAA

Favorite Dad Bean: Wolfwalkers, where Bill Goodfellowe literally turns his own convictions and beliefs upside-down in order to protect and support his daughter.

INTERMISSION

A note on GoT: I haven't watched it. When season one was first coming out, it was during a time where I really couldn't handle watching any kind of sexual assault onscreen, and while I have a higher tolerance now, I just... don't want to. I like seeing gifs of Ned Stark and appreciate that it's one of his great roles, but I just can't make myself take the plunge.

ilysm you grizzled dead wolf man

ACT II

Favorite Costumed Bean: Odysseus in Troy: curls, leather, thighs.

Favorite Un-Costumed Bean: He strips in quite a lot of his films, so let's give it to Lady Chatterley for sheer screentime, exertion, and the bonus of being naked and wearing a flower crown. Honorable mention to When Saturday Comes for the totally not homoerotic amount of butts and also dick in the locker room bathtub scene.

Hurtin'est Bean: Bravo Two Zero. Oof, don't watch this one if you have an aversion to seeing pain, although---you're a Sean Bean fan, and we all know one of his MOs is being GREAT at pain. This one was directed by Tom Clegg, who directed Sharpe. Also lol at the sickle-shaped wound on his shoulder, which is covering his 100% Blade tattoo (he gets a lot of sickle-shaped wounds on his left shoulder).

Best Inside References: The Frankenstein Chronicles, where he plays a former Peninsular soldier, and every reference to his service is a reference to Sharpe, including shots of his greenjacket, pistol, sword, and flogging scars. Honorable mention to The Martian for the Council of Elrond line.

Most Unsettling Bean: Cleanskin for moral grayness, The Frankenstein Chronicles for body horror

Most Inefficient Use of Bean: Black Beauty. Despite getting high billing he's only onscreen for about two minutes and I'm convinced the long shots are a body double. Criminal.

Biggest Missed Opportunity: We were robbed of a Sean Bean Odyssey. R o b b e d

Funniest Bean: Deploying Bean for comedy is woefully underused, but he made full use of his ~15 seconds in The Vicar of Dibley ("Spring" episode). He's also hilarious in Wasted, though I haven't watched the show, only the clips he's in on YouTube, where he plays a mock version of himself serving as a spirit guide for a stoner. IMO, though, Sharpe gives him the most room for humor.

Favorite Character Quirk: In World on Fire, when Douglas is having WWI flashbacks and really coming apart, he kept putting his hand to his mouth. My modern brain first read this as talking into a phantom radio, but of course that wasn't right, and then I realized--he was reaching for a phantom gas mask. CHILLS. AMAZING. (Honorable mentions to the Mouth Rub and the Tongue Thing [pictured above]).

Most Nostalgic Bean: National Treasure. The concept may be utter silliness, but you have to admit, this is a fun movie to watch.

Best Dismount from a Horse: Henry VIII, he goes pshwing out of the saddle

Best Swordplay: You may think there's no possible answer to this, but there is---two moments, specifically: the preparatory sword-spin he does at Balin's tomb just before the goblin attack in Moria, and the four lunges he does at 1:26:22 of Sharpe's Battle. It's just facts.

Prettiest Bean Film: Wolfwalkers, hands downnnn

Favorite Bean Death: All right, you knew we had to eventually end here. It's Boromir, obviously--- nothing tops that. But if we're looking at other roles, I think Patriot Games is my favorite, followed by Goldeneye.

So! That concludes this installment of Bean films, though I'll be continuing the labor, and I hope you will, too. What are your favorites?

[navybrat817]

Resignation

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Andy Barber x Female Reader Summary: You get to know Andy a bit more and put in your notice, but your boss doesn't it take it well. Word Count: Almost 4.4k Warnings: Slow burn, getting to know each other, sugar daddy contraction, tension, flirting, slight insecurities, inner monologue, yelling (apologies to anyone named Sean), Andy Barber (he's a warning, okay?) Graphic talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics, Header - yours truly Previous Part: Sign the Dotted Line A/N: Welcome back to my Terms and Conditions AU! Hope you lovelies enjoy. Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. ❤️ Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The feeling of floating on cloud nine wasn't something you experienced much in your life. There were high points, of course, but nothing like the elation that filled you as Andy went to make a copy of the contract. It was almost dizzying to think that for the next three quarters of a year, everything was going to be okay. Better than okay.

All thanks to Andy.

Estelle shrieked as she pulled you to your feet. “You're a sugar baby! You're a sugar baby!” she sang, making you laugh as she did a little dance with it.

“I thought you said I was going to be his ‘companion’,” you teased.

She leveled you with a look. “It’s the same thing,” she said, grabbing her bag. “And since your new ‘companion’ is taking you to the diner, why don’t we celebrate tomorrow? You better give me all the details.”

You giggled again at the implication as she squeezed you in a tight hug. If you weren’t happy before, you would've been thanks to her infectious attitude. “You sure don’t need me to head down with you?”

“No, I’m good. You just enjoy the rest of the day,” she said, winking at you and pointing at Andy when he came back. “Have fun and be good to her or I’ll destroy you,” she told him as she walked by with every ounce of confidence you wished you had. “And nice meeting you!”

You half expected there to be an air of awkwardness once the two of you were left alone and were surprised not to feel it at all. It was hard to describe the atmosphere outside of that, but it was something both familiar and new. Maybe that was because Andy continued to put you at ease all while exciting you. The next chapter of your time would be unpredictable in ways that you were looking forward to encountering.

Did he feel the same way?

Andy chuckled after a moment, the sound bringing a smile back to your face as he held up the papers in his hand. “I realize this is probably a bit outdated since everything is done electronically, but I prefer it this way.”

“I don't think it’s outdated,” you assured him as he handed you the contract, his fingers brushing yours. Would you ever get used to the jolt of electricity you felt at his touch? “It’s less of a chance of it getting leaked.”

Though it was you he worried about, you still wanted to protect his reputation.

“Yes, it is,” he said, smiling to himself when you tucked the papers carefully in your folder. “Estelle is serious, isn’t she? She’ll destroy me if I hurt you?”

“Oh, yeah. She isn’t afraid of anyone,” you said as you shifted slightly on your feet. “But I wouldn't worry about her. I don't expect you to hurt me.”

He had to know that.

Andy took a step closer. “She’s a good person to have on your side,” he commented, butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the soft look in his eyes. “And I have no intention of hurting you.”

You carefully considered his words with furrowed brows. “Aren't you supposed to say you promise not to hurt me?”

A sad smile touched his lips. “People make promises and usually do so for the right reasons, but they don't always lead to the desired outcome,” he replied as if he peeled back a small layer of himself that still left you with questions. “Take the weeklong silence, for example. I inadvertently hurt you by not reaching out.”

Your cheeks flamed, almost wishing you hadn't mentioned it. “But we talked about that. You didn't mean anything by it.”

“Yes, we did talk about it and I'm glad you told me how you felt. I still caused doubt in your mind though,” he said, his tone gentle and understanding without breaking eye contact. “So while I do want to promise that I’ll never hurt you, I'd rather promise that I have no intention of ever hurting you. Because I don't.”

It took a moment to recall that Andy was married once years ago. While you weren't sure why things ended, did his divorce give him a new perspective on making and keeping promises? Or was it his time as a lawyer?

Whatever the reason you had to respect him for his outlook.

“I appreciate that and I will hold you to that,” you said, falling in step beside him as you headed for the door.

He raised an eyebrow as he held it open for you to go through, allowing you to catch the scent of his cologne again as you walked past. You almost asked what brand it was just so you could get a bottle and spritz your worn in sweatshirts. “Isn't this the part where you promise you have no intention of hurting me?” He questioned.

“I don't think I have the power to hurt you,” you replied, not looking behind you as you headed toward the elevator. You were positive you didn't have that kind of influence nor did you want to hurt him. “But I promise that I have no intention to do so.”

You froze when he leaned in close, his beard ticking your ear and it took all of your inner strength not to turn your head toward him. “Never underestimate how powerful you are, honey,” he whispered, your breath rushing out of your lungs as he stepped back and gestured to the open elevator doors. “Shall we?”

“Sure,” you replied, your voice more breathy than you intended as you stepped inside. You swore you caught him smiling before he joined you.

“I gave my driver the afternoon off, so you’re stuck with me,” he said, pressing the button for the lowest level before the doors slid shut. “I hope that’s okay.”

“I think I can handle you driving,” you teased, happy that the two of you would be alone for part of the evening.

He chuckled before he went quiet again. The silence was comfortable, the soft dings as you passed each floor the only sound in the space. It gave you a moment to admire the man beside you. With his perfect posture, chin held high, and pristine suit, you tried to picture how he looked when he simply relaxed. No eyes on him. No one expecting anything from him.

Maybe he can show me that side of himself sometime soon.

“You’re staring,” he stated.

You smiled, not at all embarrassed that he caught you without looking your way. “I guess it’s because I’m still trying to figure you out.”

That and he was still one of the most handsome men you had ever seen.

But who was Andy Barber beyond his money? Your hero and your second chance at a better life, but what else? What did he do for fun? What did he want out of life, years from now?

Andy swung his head toward you as the elevator came to a stop. “I guess that makes two of us then.”

You found yourself in his car a few minutes later. The Audi still had that “new car” smell to it, the passenger seat sleek and not at all broken in. There wasn’t a spec of dust on the leather interior. Either he didn’t drive it often or he made sure to keep it in next to perfect condition.

Your mind drifted back to Andy’s earlier statement. What exactly was he trying to figure out? If he meant that he was trying to figure you out, he didn’t have to look too deeply. And if he was still trying to figure himself out, that was normal. Searching for your true self was a lifelong journey. And with your newfound sense of freedom at your fingertips, you’d be able to explore your own passions and visualize your ideal self.

But part of you figuring Andy out was getting to know him.

“Why the diner?” You asked, glancing over at him as he concentrated on the road in front of him. “I mean, why go there for coffee or food when you can go anywhere else?”

Maybe upscale places weren’t his usual style. He took you to the Courthouse and looked at ease there, but maybe the diner was an escape. Something different.

“I didn’t grow up with much, but my mom made it work as best as she could,” he admitted, a wistful note in his voice. “We never went hungry and she got creative with some meals so I wouldn’t get tired of eating the same thing. Things like fast food were considered a treat and diners were fine dining.”

You shifted in your seat as you listened, touched by the unexpected vulnerability. “I’ll bet she looked forward to those moments,” you said.

“She did and so did I,” he smiled over at you. “On the rare nights when she was able to save up and take us to a diner, she got a large breakfast or dinner meal for us to split. Best way to stretch her dollar and make sure neither of us felt hungry after.”

You almost reached over to take his hand, but you didn’t want to overstep. He was giving you a piece of himself by revealing a part of his past. That was more than you could ask for.

“I went to diners in college, too, when I was struggling to make ends meet,” he continued, stroking his beard for a moment. “I guess they kind of stuck with me because they reminded me of happier times. They also serve as a reminder to be thankful for what I have. It’s important to remember who I was then and who I am now.”

You let out a breath and closed your eyes as he turned onto the next street, wishing you could thank his mother for raising such an amazing man. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

His hand covered yours unexpectedly when your eyes opened. “Thank you for asking.”

You turned your wrist so your palm met his, your stomach flipping as he held it a little tighter. Opening up was never easy, even if Andy made it sound effortless. You felt closer to him after hearing that important piece of his history. Even the crackle of electricity felt different this time. Instead of a jolt, it was like a steady hum.

Maybe that closeness was the reason you didn’t want to let go when he parked his car in front of the diner.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You swallowed as you glanced out the window, the flashing lights from the sign of the beckoning for you to go in. “I just can't believe I'm actually going to quit,” you said, clutching your bag with your other hand. “I mean, I do believe it. I have my resignation letter here and everything.”

“Even when you had that bit of doubt that the contract wouldn't go through, you had your letter ready,” he smiled.

You toyed with the strap of your bag as you tried to hide your smile. “I guess I did.”

Preparation never hurt anyone.

“But if you’d rather hold off until tomorrow, I understand. I can even drive you back here if you want to wait,” he offered.

For a moment, you questioned if you should wait. As you bit your lip to fight your smile more and squeezed Andy’s hand, you made your decision. You signed the contract. You were more than ready.

Most of all, you deserved to start your path to a better future.

“I’m ready,” you assured him, reluctantly releasing his hand before you unbuckled your seatbelt. “Are you going in or did you want to wait here?”

“I’ll grab a coffee while I wait,” he said, stopping you as you reached for your door handle. “Allow me.”

You smiled to yourself as he went around to let you out. “Are you always a gentleman?”

“Not always,” he said without missing a beat, winking as you joined him on the sidewalk.

You licked your lips and gazed into his bright blue eyes. Could he see the want in yours? What would it take to make him lose control?

“I’m looking forward to seeing that side of you, Mr. Barber,” you smiled, brushing past him as he inhaled.

But first things first.

The bell rang as you walked inside and you paused to take it all in. Taking Andy’s earlier story to heart, you wouldn’t allow yourself to forget that this diner was part of your story. It not only led him to you, but also kept you from becoming homeless. It was a blessing.

“Hey,” Casey, one of the veteran servers, nodded to you from behind the counter before she looked over your outfit. She seemed to forget all about you as Andy as he walked in behind you. You didn't blame her. “Hi there. Sit anywhere you’d like.”

Andy put his hand on your lower back before he leaned in, your breath hitching slightly. “Good luck, honey,” he whispered, releasing you as Casey gawked in your direction. “I’ll just have a coffee, please,” he said as he took a seat at the counter.

The usual warmth Andy exuded was down a notch. Still friendly, but different. Or maybe you were just telling yourself that in order to feel special. “Is Sean here?”

“Yep. In the office,” Casey answered, pouring Andy a fresh cup of coffee. “Just got here.”

“I’ll be right back,” you told Andy, feeling his eyes on you as you headed through the employee only doors.

Sean had his head buried in some paperwork as he grumbled to himself. With a deep breath, you knocked on the open door. He didn't speak to you much outside of your shifts and hardly praised you for a job well done, but he wasn't a bad boss. You felt bad disturbing him, but it was now or never.

“Hi. May I come in?” You asked as he looked up.

“Yeah. Don't shut the door though. Lock’s broken,” he said, nodding to the chair in front of his desk. “Didn’t expect to see you today. What are you all dressed up for?”

“Oh, I had a meeting,” you answered, which wasn’t a lie. You did meet with Andy. “That’s actually what I needed to talk to you about.”

“A meeting?” He repeated with a frown. “Don’t tell me you’re quitting.”

Your stomach began to twist in knots. The last thing you wanted to do was disappoint your boss, even if he wouldn’t be that for much longer. Being a waitress also wasn’t your dream job, but it helped you when you needed it.

Now you have to help yourself.

“Yes, I am. I’m putting in my two weeks notice,” you said quietly, taking the letter out of your bag and placing it on the desk when he stared impassively. “I found another opportunity and I’m going to take it, but I’m happy to take any shifts I can over the next two weeks to help.”

Sean didn’t speak for a moment as he drummed his fingers on the desk. “Two weeks? No, that's not gonna work. We’re short as it is,” he said, shoving the paper away before he leaned back in his chair. Was he serious? “You're gonna have to make it four weeks and then we'll revisit after that to see if we need you to stay on longer.”

“No. I'm giving you two weeks,” you reiterated, your tone unwavering. You wouldn’t let Sean bully you into staying longer, even as guilt crept up since the place was short-staffed. “That's standard and I can't do more than that. I'm sorry.”

“Oh, no. I'm still in charge and you'll give me four weeks. That’s final,” he argued, waving his hand dismissively as you shrank a bit in your chair. “Unless you have anything else to add, I’ll see you next shift.”

You clasped your hands in your lap to keep from shaking. You didn't expect him to react this way. “No, that’s not final. I can't give you four weeks,” you said as calmly as possible, even as you began to feel more uncomfortable. “I would if I could, but I can't. I’m sorry.”

“Can't or won't?” Sean asked, almost making you jump as he raised his voice. “Listen here, you've been a solid employee and I'm not going to lose you in two weeks or four weeks. Do you understand? And if you don't show up you can forget about ever getting a good recommendation from me. Might as well kiss that ‘opportunity’ of yours goodbye.”

Your eyes burned as your mind flashed back to when you were told you were laid off from your previous job, the compassionate tone of your old boss the opposite of the man in front of you. The situations were different, but both made you feel so small. Especially since Sean was essentially threatening your future endeavors. You refused to cry though.

He wouldn’t witness your tears.

You cleared your throat and maintained your resolve. “Two weeks, Sean. That’s it. I said I’m willing to work as many shifts as I can over the next two weeks, but I can't do more than that. I won’t,” you firmly spoke as his eyes widened. “I really don't want to end this on a bad note, please.”

He pushed himself to his feet as he thrust a finger toward your face as if it would somehow make him appear intimidating to tower over you. It wouldn’t sway you. “Listen here, you little-”

“Is everything okay?”

Andy’s voice made both of you jump as you spun in your chair. He stood in the doorway but didn’t look your way. He trained his gaze on your boss, his normally bright eyes narrow and cold.

Your boss must’ve felt malice in that stare since he sat down immediately. “Oh. Mr. Barber,” he said. Did he know him as a regular customer or merely recognize his status? “It’s just an issue with an employee. This doesn’t concern you.”

“There is no issue,” you corrected him.

“Actually, she’s with me, so it does concern me,” Andy spoke as he took a step into the office, staring your boss down with a clenched jaw. The space no longer felt like Sean’s. It was as if Andy owned it along with everything in it. “If you want to raise your voice at someone, I’m right here. You won’t speak to her that way though. Do you understand?”

The deep timbre almost knocked the air out of your lungs, your heart pounding from Andy defending you.

Sean coughed a bit as color filled his cheeks. He should be embarrassed. “I didn’t realize she was with you. I wouldn’t have…” he trailed off.

Your blood simmered. He wouldn’t have raised his voice at you if he knew you were with Andy. Was this a taste of what things were going to be like? How people were going to treat you moving forward?

“Who she’s with shouldn’t matter. Not to mention, your customers and employees could hear you since your door was open,” Andy added, disappointment thickly laced in his voice. “You said she was a solid employee. Why would you speak to her like that?”

Sean’s eyes flickered to you as you waited for an answer. “We’ve been short-staffed and I’ve been stressing over it. That’s no excuse. I'm sorry,” he said to Andy, making your blood go from simmering to boiling. A customer, a powerful man, got the apology, but not you. “Won’t happen again.”

“Maybe remind yourself to be kind to the people who work for you before you raise your voice again. They’re the ones who keep your business running,” Andy said.

With a hang of his head, your boss sighed. “Two weeks, huh?” He asked, the wind completely out of his sails as you nodded. “Okay. Two weeks it is.”

“Thanks,” you whispered before Andy walked over and held out his hand to help you to your feet. Luckily, you didn’t tremble as you took it and gave it a small squeeze. It was nice that he was on your side.

“And one more thing?” Andy added as Sean glanced up. “I’m not the one you should apologize to.”

You held up your other hand when Sean looked your way and opened his mouth. “No. The only reason you’re going to say you’re sorry is because he’s here,” you stated, looking at Andy momentarily. He responded with an encouraging smile. “And I don’t want an empty apology. You can keep it.”

It was nice that Andy wanted an apology on your behalf, but it wouldn't feel believable.

Sean’s face fell, but he didn’t argue. Up until today, he treated you decently. The pressures of running a business were tough, but he had no reason to take it out on you. At the same time, you felt bad for him.

“But thank you, Sean. You gave me a job when I needed one and I won’t forget that,” you added gently. “I’ll see you next shift.”

“Why don't I meet you outside? I just want one more quick word with your boss,” Andy said as Sean audibly swallowed.

Uh-oh.

“Sure,” you said, the knots in your gut unraveling as you left the two of them alone.

You exhaled as you walked back into the dining area, avoiding the gazes from a few of the customers. Your hand shook as you gave Casey a small wave. At least she didn’t look upset with you.

“Quitting, huh? Lucky duck,” she smiled sadly. “You okay? He had no right speaking to you like that.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you nodded, taking another breath. You didn't like anyone raising their voice at you, but you wouldn't allow yourself to dwell on it and didn’t need her to worry. All you could do was make the transition as smooth as possible over the next two weeks. “Didn't expect that kind of reaction. Didn’t expect anyone out here to hear it.”

“Sean’s voice carries and he’s probably just pissed that he’s losing another good one while he’s stuck here,” she guessed, glancing over her shoulder before she added in a whisper, “Oh, and that guy you’re with? He looked furious when he heard him.”

“He did?” You asked, an almost goofy smile appearing on your face.

“Yeah, he did. He had fire in his eyes. Put a bill down, got to his feet, and immediately walked back there. And I wasn’t about to stop him,” she said, her smile widening as she leaned on the counter. “I’d say he’s smitten.”

Your heart skipped a beat. First Estelle, now Casey. Though the latter had no clue about the arrangement. “He’s really something, isn't he?”

“Oh, yeah,” Casey said, straightening up when the employee door swung open.

Andy’s eyes landed on you as he walked through, his eyes soft again as he held out his hand. He also looked pleased with himself. “Ready?”

“Ready,” you said, taking it as you gave Casey a nod. “I’ll see you soon. Hope the rest of your shift is okay.”

“Me, too. See ya,” she said before she went back to assisting other customers.

“You okay?” Andy asked softly as he led you outside.

“I’m fine,” you promised, not wanting him to worry either or get upset. “But what did you say to Sean?”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” he answered, shaking his head. “Listen, I’m sorry if I overstepped by intervening. I just couldn’t let him talk to you like that.”

He easily deflected your question and you decided to let him have that victory for now.

You went in for a hug but kept space for him to breathe. He wrapped his arms tightly around you before you could pull away, your body melting into his. The bustling city around you faded as you focused on the warmth of his firm body. It made you forget all about Sean’s reaction.

“I’m glad you did,” you said, stepping back with a tiny smile. It meant the world that he defended you. “I tried to hold my own.”

“You did. You could've snapped back or walked out, but you didn't. That’s commendable and powerful,” he assured you, his gaze serious. “But I don't care if it’s your boss or a stranger or your best friend, I’m not about to let someone take their frustrations out on you.”

Warmth settled in your chest. You learned something else about Andy today: He truly wouldn't tolerate anyone disrespecting you. He continued to prove that he was a man of his word.

You also experienced firsthand how things worked in his world, how people would bend toward his will. If it was a test, you wouldn’t say you failed since you stood up for yourself. It wouldn’t always be that easy. Whether someone questioned your motives or place with Andy or not, you had to learn to grow a thick skin. Not just for your own benefit, but Andy’s, too.

He needed someone strong by his side.

“Thank you, Andy.”

“And, listen, if you don’t want to work those shifts or if he gives you a hard time-”

“I’ll be fine,” you promised. You doubted Sean would make it a hostile work environment, but you could handle it if there were any issues. “But I think I’d like to go home now.”

Andy blinked and gave you a single nod. “Sure. If that’s what you want.”

Is he disappointed at the thought of me ending the day right now?

You smiled as you tugged him in the direction of his car. “I’d also like you to see my place,” you said, his eyebrows shooting up. It surprised you that you offered, too. “It isn't much, but it’s comfortable. Maybe we can order takeout?”

It wasn’t exactly the ideal way to celebrate, but he shared a piece of himself on the drive over. The least you could do was let him see your apartment. And who knew where the evening would take you?

“Only if you’ll let me pay,” he smiled.

“You're not going to let me pay for anything, are you?” You smiled back.

“Not if I can help it,” he replied, opening the car door. “Let's get you home, honey.”

We all need a man like Andy. And what's going to happen at the apartment? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Andy Barber Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[nthspecialll]

The inequality of the gang

Dutch has a habit of putting himself above the others of the gang in indirect ways. His tent is more decorated and better quality, his clothing is more expensive, his girl does not have to work. But other than him, most of the gang seems to be on fairly even ground, however that is not completely true.

There is a big hiracy in the gang and it is created due to the box, the one we all know because Susan won't stop shouting at us to donate in it. That box goes towards food, medicine and ammo, but this box is also chairty. You do not have to put anything inside it if you do not want to, Sean has never put anything in it, he says so himself.

It is quite important to remember that this is not the savings. When you do a score, half of the money goes into the savings to get them to Tahiti, this money is not used at all. After half has been given, the remaining money is split and they can do with it whatever they want, though they are encouraged to put some in the box because it feeds the camp.

However now we reach the big problem, the box gives only food, medicine and ammo, any clothing, entertainment, weapons or anything alike you need to buy yourself. Highly actively criminal characters like Arthur, Javier, Dutch, Bill and so on can afford to feed themselves and live comfortably, even if they do not donate they will be fine. Tilly, Mary-Beth, Karen and Uncle, they make some money themselves, either through gigs or gambling, they can afford some unnessesarities and to treat themselves here and there, but not as much as the others, that puts them underneath the previously mentioned but also above someone else, those who cannot work.

Susan, Pearson and Abigail, those three are stuck in camp without being able to make more money than at the camp poker table. That places them at the end of the foodchain and you would think that it would be okay, they get food and medicine, but it isn't okay, there is a massive split.

In a camp interaction Dutch is sitting and he calls Abigail and John over to hear a paragraph from Evelyn Miller. He says the writing for the truest thing he ever heard, to which Abigail replies the truest thing she ever heard was Jack crying because he was hungry. They were getting food but not enough to for them to become full and she can't do anything about them because she isn't able to make money. She joined the gang, working in camp for them, probably with the promise of food and shelter and protection, and she isn't getting all that.

Another camp interaction with Abigail reveals that she is unable to clothe her son, she is struggling and all she needs is five dollars so she can buy him clothing. While she is thinking of if her child with go to bed hungry, Dutch is well fed, well clothed and comfortable enough to ponder and wonder about philosphy.

I am not saying they should all have the exact same amount of money, but a child shouldn't starve while a man smokes cigars and blasts opera.

For a man who fights for a free and equal America he can't even create an equal camp.

(Tags: @photo1030 @pinescent-and-gingerbread )

[11vr1]

Still Yours ⭒ Miles Morales

Part one: Been Away

Synopsis › You’re still his. You just need a little reminder.

Pairing › Earth-42! Miles Morales x Reader

Inspo › “Still Yours (feat. Big Sean)” - Bryson Tiller, Big Sean

Includes › ATSV SPOILERS, angst, fluff, swearing, Spanish, toxicity, going back to your ex, man has a staring problem, stalking, mentions of violence, manhandling i think?, kissing, terrible grammar, maybe some continuity errors (don’t think about it too hard)

P.S. › I had to write this part on my phone because my house has no wi-fi. Forgive me.

You were a vision as your head threw back in laughter at something your friend said. Absolute perfection in the way your uniform fits in all the right places and the gentle swoop of your edges framing your glowing skin in the harsh fluorescent lighting. It was aggravating. “When did she get that?” Miles’ rich eyes narrowed at you and your group of friends.

His best friend looked up from his phone in your direction. He didn’t need to ask who she was. “Get what?” he sighed, already sensing where this conversation was headed.

“Her lipgloss.” He tilted his head. “It’s Fenty.”

Ganke couldn’t remember when Miles became a makeup enthusiast, but he knew he was a Y/n expert. “And how do you know that?” he asked in disbelief. Their lunch periods had turned into a sort of Y/n watching session since your mysterious separation. He was over it and tired of watching his friend not-so-subtly stare at his not-ex-girlfriend. It was sad and getting a little creepy.

“It’s her favorite brand, but the shade’s darker. She’s never worn it before.” Miles’ food was left untouched, too preoccupied with the sight of you. You must’ve been doing this on purpose, he thought. Sitting directly in his eye line with your annoying ass group of friends. And Drew Harris, Brooklyn Vision’s resident dickhead jock, sat a little too close to you.

Ganke shrugged, turning back to his game. “I don’t know, man. It looks like the one she always wears.”

Miles tore his gaze away to face Ganke. His eyes hardened to an icy glare. “Why do you know what color she usually wears?”

“Chill, dude,” he rolled his eyes. “This break up is actually making you go insane.”

“We didn’t break up,” he snapped, but who was he fooling? Ganke was spot on. Miles was increasingly on edge, waiting. He’d texted and called multiple times since last weekend when finally spoke to you for the first time in weeks. But you didn’t respond or pick up. At this rate you were going to block him…again. Just when he thought everything was piecing itself back together, you slipped away out of his reach.

Ganke stood up with his trash. He had better things to do than watch his best friend run himself to the ground over a girl who obviously wanted nothing to do with him. “Broken up or taking a break, either way you’re miserable. You need to figure your shit out or move on before you burn a hole in the side of her head.”

Miles waved him off, not showing his words struck a chord. Moving on wasn’t an option. You were on his mind twenty four hours a day, seven days a week without fail. The thought of you waiting for him safe and sound kept him alive while he committed every crime in the book. Everything he did was for you, to keep you protected in this twisted city. Nothing was going to ruin his forever, not even you.

⋆

“Why not Drew?” Ellie suddenly asked while they walked the halls away from the cafeteria. You could tell she was enjoying having you back with their friends. “He’s all over you. You guys would be perfect,” she gushed, practically skipping across the tile.

You gave her a stern look, “Ellie.” You hated to burst her bubble, but she was too eager for you to be single. “I’m not interested in Drew Harris.”

“Okay, picky,” she hummed in thought for a moment. “Erik Falls? He’s on the basketball team and I heard he thinks you’re gorgeous,” she tried again. You stopped at Ellie’s locker. You weren’t going to ask where she heard such a rumor or why it seemed she had a mental list of the single male population.

You shook your head. A new relationship was the last thing on your mind. Miles was it for you, the one who made your heart sing, the man who made you believe you could be loved like in the stories. No one could compare, especially not a couple of immature jocks who would eventually become mere blimps in the timeline of your life. If only there wasn't a plot twist. “Despite what you think, I am more than happy being single. A new man is not on my list of priorities.”

“If you say so. You’ve just been so down since…” Ellie’s wide eyes briefly glanced over your shoulder. “I thought you and Miles weren’t together anymore?” her voice lowered to a sharp whisper.

Your response stalled, caught off guard by the question. Did Ellie know you and Miles had spoken? You didn’t want to imagine what kind of hell would be unleashed if she found out. “Of course not,” you forced a laugh. “Why?”

“Don’t look, but he’s at your locker!” she scowled, tossing her books back into her locker. “Don’t worry, girl. I got this.” Ellie pulled the earrings from her lobes along with her stack of bracelets, mumbling something about the “little creep.” She never hid her distaste for Miles, the two bumping heads more than once the duration of your relationship.

Against your better judgment, you looked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. Miles Morales leaned against your locker like he owned it. With his shirt untucked and tie loosened, he never failed to make the butterflies in your stomach flutter.

You stopped her before she stalked off in a fury. “Hold on, let me talk to him. I’m sure it’s nothing.” You didn’t even sound convincing to yourself.

Ellie drummed her fingers, lips pursed as she looked between you and the boy over your shoulder, skepticism written all over her face. “Fine, go ahead, Y/n. But I swear if he tries anything, I’m coming for his ass,” she pointed, making sure to shoot him a steely glower.

“I’ll be alright,” you assured her, already walking away.

You finally approached Miles, rolling your eyes at the enigmatic smirk on his lips. “You ignoring me, ma?” He asked, his gaze never leaving your face as you fiddled with the combination on your locker. “I thought we was good.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you, Miles. I just…” you struggled to explain without sounding like you were in fact avoiding him. Did he really think cornering you in an alley would fix everything? “I still needed a bit of space.”

He was clearly unsatisfied, but held his tongue. Instead he nodded his head. “Let’s take a walk, princesa.”

“I can’t,” you stuttered out, unable to trust yourself around Miles. Ignoring his messages took everything in you, so used to spending hours of your day spamming him with the most trivial things when you weren’t together.

“Yes you can. You have a free period.” Of course he had your schedule memorized. Nothing could get past Miles. He entwined your fingers in his, enveloping you with the rough calluses of his palms and dragging you through the halls without care for the curious stares directed your way.

The usual commotion of the city hit your ears as Miles swung open the rooftop door. Fond memories of your favorite meet up spot came flooding back, the late nights Miles would help you study for a Spanish test or when he simply wanted to sit in silence and bask in your presence. You’d fallen in love here over and over again, the stars and city skyline your only witness.

Miles had yet to release you from his hold, savoring your touch after being starved for so long.

He wasn’t going to let you go, not when you were finally where you belonged. “We need to talk.”

“We’re talking now, aren’t we?” No one wanted to hear those dreaded four words.

Your attempt at humor was not appreciated. His grip squeezed your hands in a gentle, but firm warning. “I’m done playin’ your little games, mami. This back and forth shit ain’t gon’ work. I need you to be straight with me.”

The impending weight of the conversation began to settle on your shoulders. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Miles. That I’m totally fine with you being the Prowler and everything can go back to normal?” You avoided his gaze, choosing the cerulean sky knowing his gaze could pull whatever he wanted from you if you dared to stare too long. “You lied to me for the better part of our relationship. Where you go, what you’re doing, who you are and if you’re okay, like really okay. I can’t trust you!”

Too much had been broken for you to go back. And you tried! Lord knows you fucking tried. You hid your tears when Miles missed a date, coming up with some lame excuse. Or the days he’d return and couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. Your mind turned to the worst. Doubt festered where trust should have been. But you held on just as fast as Miles held onto you now.

Now you know the reality and it scared you more than any possibility you came up with.

Miles listened to the cracks in your pretty voice, seeing the damage he caused. He never hated himself more. Ripping out throats and cracking skulls he could stand, but the sight of those crystal tears nearly broke him. “Mi corazón...” A large pad tenderly wiped a droplet from the smoothness of your cheeks. “Lo siento.”

“Say what you have to say, Morales. You can’t keep wasting my time.” You forced yourselves apart to furiously rid the traitorous tears. He didn’t deserve them.

“‘A waste of time?’” he repeated incredulously. Miles grabbed your left wrist, tugging down the sleeves of your navy blazer to reveal the golden bracelet you wore and its various charms. The cursive “M” dangled in your face, mocking you and your devotion to him. “Is that what this is?” He fished the delicate chain from beneath his own uniform where he wore your name closest to his heart. “Are you done with me? Was all this pointless to you, Y/n?” he nearly shouted, doing his best to keep what little composure he had left.

The answer had never been more simple. “No, of course not,” you said. “I don’t regret loving you. I just can’t keep loving half of you when you already have all of me.”

Shock filled the silence between you. “You love me?”

“Yes, dumbass!” You pushed against his chest. He didn’t budge, too stunned to breathe properly. “I know you won’t say it back but I don’t care. You should already know.”

Miles cradled your head and leaned down, your noses touching, sharing the same air. “Say it again,” he ghosted your lips.

Your knees weakened, his heat creating a haze of solely him in your mind. You studied the gentle contours of his face, the fullness of his lips, the healed scar on the edge of his right brow, someone only as close as you could see. An inch was all you needed to think, but you were snatched back. “Miles,” you gasped in surprise, steadying yourself in his arms. Through layers of fabric, you felt the rapid rhythm of Miles' heart and you were positive he could feel yours.

“Dilo de nuevo,” he commanded, pressing your body against his in a vice and yet you were still too far. “Por favor, para mi.”

“I love you,” you began, but Miles cut you off as he eradicated the damned space between you. Your mouth parted, the taste of spice and uniquely him familiar, like loving Miles was a reflex you’d always succumb to.

You relented to your need to breathe, still cradling Miles’ face in your hands. “Te amo también, mi corazón.” You never thought he would return the words and you’ve never been happier to be wrong. “Let me do it right this time. Be mine again. No more secrets, no more lies. Prometo.”

One chance was all Miles needed to gain access to your heart. You should have kept his number blocked, called the police like you threatened to do, but his determination was endless. He wanted you and here you were in his embrace saying, “I’ll always be yours, Miles.” You reached on your toes to steal another kiss, consuming as much of him as you desired. The pink of his tongue peeked out as he licked the sticky glitter from his lips. You moved to wipe the remaining gloss about to apologize before he took your mouth again, his teeth teasing the delicate skin.

“It is new.”

[ateliersss]

Blooming Family Part 1 - He Will Come

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: You were caught three days after you and your son's arrival on earth by an organization called Project Stargazer. Now you both were treated like guinea pigs. No wonder, considering said son was a hybrid of human and Yautja. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 4,224 Masterlist

⇨ This is based on the scene in the lab where the sedated Yautja-human hybrid is being held captive (movie: "The Predator", 2018). The plot before and after this scene has nothing to do with the fanfic. Either way, I barely remember the movie. I just used the scene for my own scenario.

⇨ Want to join the tag list?

You had been stupid, so stupid. You should have listened to Mi'ytiar, should have listened to him when he told you to stay on the ship during your stay on earth while your son went hunting. You had insisted on coming with him, as you desperately wanted to see your home planet again.

Not that you missed it. You loved Mi'ytiar, loved to be his mate, loved your life with him and your son on Yautja Prime.

You had just wanted to leave the ship to get some fresh air and see the full moon, which you couldn't see in your new home, when you suddenly were surrounded by soldiers. You didn’t even think about defending yourself, not in your condition. You had let it happen when they grabbed you and put you roughly in one of the black SUVs.

So many questions swirled around in your mind — how did they find you? What about the ship? What did they want with you? Would they hurt you? And what about Akail? Was he hurt?

You hadn’t dared to ask the armed men who were in the car with you. They all had looked at you with different emotions on their faces — disgust, curiosity, anger. One of them wore a grin that made your skin crawl.

When they arrived at their base, you were dragged through many corridors and were examined by — and you thanked God for that — female doctors. They took your blood, forced you into a strange white suit, and put you into a sterile room.

Now you sat in a corner, huddled together. The door was in the middle of the wall on the other side of the room. A camera hung in the corner across from you from the ceiling and had an overview of the entire room. It reminded you of an interrogation room with windows to the left and right of the door, which looked like a mirror from the inside but allowed a glimpse into the room from the outside, and a table and two chairs standing in the middle.

You had pulled your legs to your chest as much as your swollen belly would allow and leaned your head sideways against the wall.

It’s gonna be okay, you thought to yourself, everything is going to be fine.

You didn't know if you were trying to calm yourself down or your pup, who could sense your agitation and responded to you with kicking. You sat up straight in a cross-legged position, wrapped your arms protectively around your belly, and caressed it soothingly.

Don’t worry, little one. We’ll be home soon. Your daddy will come and get us out of here. You have no idea how eager we are to meet you.

Not far from you, Sean Keyes greeted Casey Bracket.

“There you are!” He said as soon as Casey stepped out of the elevator. “Welcome, I–“

Before he could continue, Casey walked straight past him to look at the two metal helmets and something that looked like a gun, everything displayed behind thick glass. None of it was human.

“Alien technology.” She stated in disbelief. “Is that what you wanted me to see?” Casey's eyes wandered to the other showcases that displayed even more weapons and equipment. “Can I take a better look at it?”

“Ahh.” Sean laughed, “But you haven’t even seen the main attraction.”

Casey tore her gaze from an interesting-looking spear engraved with intriguing carvings and looked up at Sean. He had climbed the few steps that led to a glass wall overlooking a mix of operating room and laboratory, and gestured with his head for her to follow him.

Quickly joining him, they both looked down and into the room. It was occupied by many people who, from their appearance, were scientists. There were guards, eight in total, guarding all four doors. Screens hung on the walls and desks carried computers and strange gadgets.

The only thing that got Casey’s complete attention was the table in the middle of the room and especially what was on it.

“Doctor Bracket.”

Casey looked away from the creature and at the man who had spoken to her.

“Would you like to meet the Predator?”

Yes, that’s exactly what she wanted.

Still processing what she had just seen, she followed Sean Keyes into the decontamination chamber. She was given a suit that looked similar to the ones the scientists were wearing in the laboratory. The decontamination process didn't take long and she quickly slipped into the suit.

“Thanks for coming.” The dark-skinned man, Will Traeger, said to Casey as soon as the lab door opened and shook her hand. “I’m sure you have questions.”

“If I’m honest, only two.” Casey answered and followed the man down the stairs. “Why do you call it the Predator?”

They came to a halt in front of the table the creature was lying on.

“It’s a nickname. You know, the data suggests that it tracks its prey, exploits weakness. It seems to, well, enjoy it. It’s like a game.”

“That’s not a Predator. That’s a sports hunter.”

“Sorry?”

“A Predator kills its prey to survive. I mean, what you’re describing is more like a bass fisherman.” Casey simply answered, taking a step closer to the table.

“Well, we took a vote. Predator sounds cooler, right?” Will laughed and received approval from the surrounding scientists. “We found him and his ship. He’s heavily sedated.”

Casey had long stopped listening to him. She was completely absorbed by the creature, or Predator, taking in every inch of it. The physique indicated that it was a male. His height had to be over 2 meters. He had greenish skin that resembled reptilian-like scales. Its head was big and oval in shape. Instead of hair, what appeared to be dreadlocks grew out of it. His mandibles were the most eye-catching feature about him.

Could they be used for defense? And how did the food intake work?

She noticed that even unconscious, he was making a sound that closely resembled a cat's purring.

“You are one beautiful motherfucker.” She finally said.

“I’m gonna guess your second question is why you’re here.”

Casey looked up to Will and signaled him with a nod to continue.

“Our test results yielded something a little… odd.”

Sean, standing next to Casey, handed her a device. She looked back and forth between the two men before accepting it. The screen showed a more complex DNA structure than that of a human, without a doubt that of the Predator.

“Is this a joke?” She questioned in disbelief.

“We ran the genome sequence ten times. This specimen has–“

“–human DNA.” Casey finished stunned.

“Yeah.” Will nodded, “Look, we know about spontaneous speciation. Mostly plants and insects but–“

“But some mammals. The Red Wolf, for example, a hybrid of the coyote and the grey wolf.” Sean interrupted him this time.

“It’s possibly some form of recombinant technology.” Will added.

“I get it. You want to know if someone fucked an alien.” Casey summed it up, finally knowing her purpose here.

“Not necessarily.”

Casey looked questioningly at Will. "Meaning?"

“Meaning, we have a rough idea. We would just like to know the detailed procedure.”

Casey's eyes widened and she looked at him in bewilderment. “You don't seriously expect a woman to procreate with that thing. There's no way that–“

“Oh, there is no need for that.” Sean assured her, “Like I already mentioned earlier, we found his ship thanks to his equipment. But not only that.”

He turned to the largest screen in the room and nodded to a man who started typing on his computer and turned the screen on. It showed some kind of interrogation room. It wasn't long before Casey spotted a woman sitting cross-legged on the floor, slowly rocking back and forth.

“Who is that?” She asked and inched closer to the screen in curiosity.

“His mother.” Sean answered matter-of-factly, folding his hands behind his back.

Casey slowly looked from the screen over to the Predator, then back. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Not at all.” Will chuckled. “His DNA matches with hers. Although the father’s genetic heritage is more dominant than hers, you can still see differences between this one–” He nodded to the unconscious alien, “–and a homozygous Predator.”

“Wow.” Casey mumbled and returned her gaze to the screen.

The woman now walked in circles through the room, stroking — and the biologist had to do a double take — her growing stomach.

Holy hell, she was pregnant!

“Wow indeed. And not only that but her human DNA has been altered to resemble that of the Predator.”

“We believe it’s a kind of adaptation to the living conditions of his home planet.” Sean started, “According to the blood tests, and we did several because we didn't want to believe the results, this woman is over a hundred years old. We think she was born in the early 1900s, although she looks like she’s in her mid-twenties.”

Casey’s mouth fell open, her heart pounding against her rib cage. “I want to meet her.”

He nodded and smiled at her. “That was the plan. No one has spoken to her yet, not even the nurse who brought her food or was taking her to the bathroom.”

“While science can answer many questions and give us great insight into our being, there are still things that remain unanswered.” Will added, "We don't know when she left Earth or how it was possible for her to reproduce with an alien. We don't know how her DNA changed, and because of that, we don't even know who she really is.”

Casey nodded. “And you want me to get the answers to those questions from her?”

“Indeed.”

Casey was watching you through the one-way window. You were still pacing, one hand supporting your back and the other stroking your stomach in a circular motion. Even though you seemed nervous and scared, you also looked like a proud lioness ready to attack to protect her baby.

“Ready?” Sean asked.

Casey looked briefly at him and nodded.

“Great. We will wait here to watch and listen. In her condition, I doubt she will attempt anything for the sake of her child, but if she does it will only take a second, and security will rush the room.”

“Good to know.” She mumbled before heading to the door.

With a deep breath, she pushed down the door handle.

You caught that movement in the corner of your eye and turned to the intruder. “What have you done to him?!” You immediately demanded hysterically, growling at her like a wild animal. “Where did you take him? Where did you take my son?”

It was good that Casey was the first to speak to you. Probably no one out there had the slightest decency to treat you like a real person and would have strapped you to a table, too, careless of harm to you or your child.

“They took him to a lab and are holding him there. Nobody hurt him, I swear it.” Casey said, raising her hands to show you she meant no harm. “They just want to know more about him and his kind and why he is here, that’s all.”

You stared at her, softly caressing your belly as you pondered her words.

When there was no reply, Casey continued, “I just want to talk to you. We want to know how you… why you…”

“Why I got knocked up by an alien?” You suggested bluntly.

Casey nodded. “Yes. It’s practically unthinkable to come across an alien hybrid and its mother.”

“Where I went after his father took me from earth, it’s more of a rarity than unthinkable.”

Casey took a step forward and hastily asked, “Do you mean you're not the only one? Are there other humans who procreate with them? Are they also studying hybrids and their traits?”

You laughed at her eagerness and walked over to the chair closest to you, sitting down on it. You waved your hand at Casey to do the same, as if you were hinting you were going to cooperate to answer her questions. The biologist glanced back over her shoulder at the reflective window where Sean and Will were watching the conversation. She sat down in the chair opposite of you and looked at you expectantly.

“Before I say another word, I want to see that my son is okay.” You demanded, trying to suppress the tremor in your voice, the very first sign of weakness.

Casey turned back to the windows and waited for someone to come through the door. Instead, the reflective surfaces of the windows turned into screens showing one and the same image — the captured Predator, still tied to the table and asleep.

There was a whimper coming from behind her. When she turned back, she saw tears building up in your eyes and one hand pressed to your mouth. It was surreal to Casey for a human to have such an emotional reaction to an alien creature. On the other hand, this was his mother, unbelievable and absurd as it may seem.

You seemed to calm down, your eyes still fixed on the screen. You nodded to yourself before tearing your eyes away to look at Casey. The windows had returned to their normal state.

“We’re going to start with some easy questions, okay?”

You nodded again.

“Great. First I would like to know your name.”

“(Y/N) (L/N).” You answered.

“Would it be okay if I call you (Y/N)?”

“I would appreciate it.” You said, “It's a nice change from all the other names I've gotten so far.”

“What do you mean?” Casey inquired.

“Alien fucker. Alien whore. Desperate little bitch who thought a man’s dick isn’t enough for her. Nothing I didn't expect from men.” You shrugged, “It just proves once again that Yautja males treat their females with far more respect and honor than a human male could ever comprehend.”

“Yautja?” Casey asked, leaning forward, arms crossed on the tabletop.

“You call them Predator, but their kind is actually called Yautja.” You explained.

Casey nodded and started to play with her fingers, her next question burning on her tongue. “How did you get into this whole thing? How did you get in contact with them?”

You huffed. “It’s quite ironic, you know. On the contrary what you may have expected, he saved me.”

“Saved you from what?”

“Again, men. Four of them. They had followed me into an alley and tried to…” You had to pause for a second.

Almost 90 years ago, you had been afraid when Mi'ytiar had taken you from Earth to bring you to Yautja Prime. But looking back, that fear hadn't been as great as what you had felt at the thought of what those men would have done to you if he hadn't intervened.

“He protected me from those monsters… my own kind.” You let out a humorless laugh. “Yautja take their prey as a trophy after each successful hunt, you know. Not only did he rip their heads off and their spines out, but he also took me. I expected him to hurt me, to keep me as a slave, or… or to do what these men wanted to do to me that day in that alley. I found out later that I was really lucky that he, of all other Yautja, rescued me. It's incredibly rare that one of them takes an interest in a human being. Usually, they kill every last of them. Humans are too weak and too soft, but that’s exactly what he loves about me. That’s why he kept me alive.”

You let out a sigh, considering how much you should reveal about the Yautja culture.

“On the contrary to me, a Yautja female is rough and large, even larger than a male. After all, they are the ones who carry their offspring and ensure the survival of their kind. The males have to fight for dominance and if the male wins, the female deems him worthy enough for mating and submits.”

Casey shifted in her seat. “Did you… did he expect the same from you? Did he force you into submission to…?”

“Never.” You growled protectively, “He never forced himself onto me. Never. He was more patient and understanding than all the human males I ever met in my life. He treated me like I was the most precious thing he had ever seen. Never did he touch me without my permission.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Casey soothed you.

She had to be more careful and had to see this whole situation through your eyes — you were separated from your son and held at a facility that was examining you both while you had to worry about your unborn baby.

“Do you want to tell me about your relationship with him? Your, uhm…”

“He is my mate. My Life Mate.”

“Life Mate?”

“Female Yautja can mate with multiple males and give birth to their children, but some also choose a permanent mate. You could compare it to one-night stands and marriage, only you can't divorce. It's not called Life Mate for nothing. You are bonded to each other for the rest of your life and they live for hundreds of years.”

“Can I know the name of your Life Mate?”

You eyed Casey briefly, looked over her shoulder at the reflective windows then at the camera in the corner, and then back at her. “His name is Mi'ytiar. He is the leader of his clan.”

Casey sat up straight. “They live in clans? Like wolves in packs or horses in herds?”

You nodded. “With similar hierarchy dynamics, yes. There are many clans on their home planet, each living peacefully on their own. Sometimes clans visit each other, hunt together, celebrate together. That's how I found out that I'm not the only human on this planet.” You said, “But apparently I’m the only one who mated a clan leader. Most of them are expected to have a strong successor to take after them and Mi'ytiar, of all Yautja, ended up with a weak little human to bear his pups.”

Jackpot, Casey thought.

She finally got to the part that intrigued her the most — how was it humanly possible that you got pregnant, how was it possible for you to carry the child of an alien, and how did it not kill you?

“Since Mi'ytiar has fully committed himself to me, it was up to me to bear his offspring. The Yautja of his clan never dared to say anything. I’m the clan leader's mate, after all. But I noticed it in the way they treated me and looked at me. They knew it wasn’t possible for me to carry his children.”

You looked down at your baby bump and returned to caress it. It seemed to keep you calm.

“At that point, that fact made me really upset. I got to know their culture and learned everything there was to know about them. I even started learning their language. I fulfill any task assigned to a clan leader's mate. I make my mate happy and proud. But I couldn’t give him a child.”

You looked up and into Casey’s eyes.

“Mi'ytiar is very attentive and he soon noticed that something was upsetting me. Apparently, he was the only one who hadn't thought about his offspring at all.” You paused for a second to smile, remembering his reaction when he found out that you wanted to carry his pups. “The second he knew he wanted to keep me around when he took me away from Earth, he injected me with his blood. No matter how many times I've been called fragile and puny, the human immune system can sometimes work wonders. His blood had slowed down my aging and allowed me to survive on his planet. So we visited a healer to finalize my life as his Life Mate.”

Your cheeks flushed as you thought of how Mi'ytiar hadn't hesitated to drag you home and how you both had spent several days in your bed, or nest as he called it. There had been hardly a moment when he wasn't inside you. The image of his beautiful mate, his love, carrying his pup in her belly had made him feral.

It hadn't been long before his seed took. The other Yautja had a surprised but satisfied reaction when they saw that their leader was about to become a father. That’s when they finally started to treat you like a part of the clan. You had fully proved yourself, proved you could provide for the clan. You were finally one of them.

Akail's birth was hard. It felt like he was tearing you apart from the inside out. But thanks to the injections of Mi’ytiar’s blood and the additional help of the tribal healer, your body strengthened enough that you didn't die, even though it felt like it. You were crying and smiling with your mate at your side, holding your little bundle of joy in your arms.

He looked just like his father, no indication that his mother was human. However, his animalistic features were a little softer, difficult to recognize unless you were the mother. While you were being tended to, Mi'ytiar took his son in his arms to proudly introduce him to his clan.

Fondly, you thought back to one moment, a core memory — Mi'ytiar, lying on his side with you snuggled against him, both naked and partly covered in fur, and little Akail, just ten hours old, resting on your chest. At that point, you were so incredibly happy.

It sounded weird and absurd that this was your life and no human could ever understand, but you would never trade it for anything in the world.

“What’s the catch?” Casey asked after a while of watching you quietly stroking your belly.

“Huh?” You looked up.

“I don't think you're telling us all this without an ulterior motive. So what’s the catch?”

“I want to quench your thirst for scientific knowledge and in return, I hope you will release me and my son. There is no need to keep us here if you get all your answers from me.”

Casey started to shift back and forth in her chair. “I don’t think that will be possible. There are still things that we–“

“Listen, I have cooperated in the hope you will let me and my son go if you have what you want. You won’t like what will happen if we are not soon to be freed.”

Casey glanced over her shoulder for what felt like the hundredth time, unsure of what to do or what to say.

“I promised him to contact him every day, you know. My mate.” You said, pride permeating your body. “And do you know what it will tell him? The silence?” Your question was obviously rhetorical. “It will tell him that something happened to me and therefore also to his son because Akail would rather die fighting for his mother and his father knows that.”

Casey gulped. The threat was clear as the day.

“He will come and not alone. Do you really think you stand a chance against them?” You laughed, now more confident. “The human nature is arrogant, thinking they are superior to everyone. Eventually, that will be the reason for your extinction. Your haughty stupidity will be the death of you.”

“(Y/N)–” Casey tried, but she was interrupted.

“No, you will listen to me just like you've been doing for the last twenty minutes now. I have lived among them for decades, almost a century. I learned from them, I’m one of them. Stand between a Yautja and their Life Mate and it will end deadly for you. Stand between a Yautja and their Life Mate who’s pregnant and I promise you, you will beg for them to kill you.”

“(Y/N), there is nothing in my power to help you. I was simply summoned here as an expert to examine this Yautja, your son. I can’t–”

“You will. And I'm not just talking to you in this case.” Your eyes wandered from her face to the windows and nodded to the people you assumed to be standing behind the glass, watching you. “I’m talking to them, the ones who have the power. Set me and my son free and I promise you nothing will happen to any of you.”

Suddenly, a blaring alarm sounded, startling both Casey and you. Instinctively, you wrapped an arm around your stomach in a protective manner.

“Code Red. Subject Predator is on the loose.”

A shuddering sigh of relief left your lips as you slowly began to smile. You knew they couldn’t keep Akail immobilized for long.

One of the things he had in common with his father was that he was just as protective over you as he was. He would come to look for you.

Casey had already jumped out of her chair and was talking frantically to the people on the other side of the one-sided window.

You began to talk to your pup again, “Your mei'hswei is coming, sweetling. Soon the three of us will be back with daddy.”

continue with the second part He Is Here.

[cherryjamandtoast]

UPS TEAMSTERS-UNION WON !!!!!!!!!!!

From the article:

[(WASHINGTON) – Today, the Teamsters reached the most historic tentative agreement for workers in the history of UPS, protecting and rewarding more than 340,000 UPS Teamsters nationwide. The overwhelmingly lucrative contract raises wages for all workers, creates more full-time jobs, and includes dozens of workplace protections and improvements. The UPS Teamsters National Negotiating Committee unanimously endorsed the five-year tentative agreement.

“Rank-and-file UPS Teamsters sacrificed everything to get this country through a pandemic and enabled UPS to reap record-setting profits. Teamster labor moves America. The union went into this fight committed to winning for our members. We demanded the best contract in the history of UPS, and we got it,” said Teamsters General President Sean M. O’Brien. ... This contract sets a new standard in the labor movement and raises the bar for all workers.”

“UPS came dangerously close to putting itself on strike, but we kept firm on our demands. In my more than 40 years in Louisville representing members at Worldport — the largest UPS hub in the country — I have never seen a national contract that levels the playing field for workers so dramatically as this one....” said Teamsters General Secretary-Treasurer Fred Zuckerman. “We stayed focused on our members and fought like hell to get everything that full-time and part-time UPS Teamsters deserve.”

“Rank-and-file members served on the committee for the first time, ... “Our hard work has paid off — from those members and leaders negotiating for more at the table to my sisters and brothers building a credible strike threat around the country. Our union was organized and we were relentless. We’ve hit every goal that UPS Teamster members wanted and asked for with this agreement. It’s a ‘yes’ vote for the most historic contract we’ve ever had.”

Highlights of the tentative 2023-2028 UPS Teamsters National Master Agreement include:

Historic wage increases. Existing full- and part-time UPS Teamsters will get $2.75 more per hour in 2023, and $7.50 more per hour over the length of the contract.

Existing part-timers will be raised up to no less than $21 per hour immediately, and part-time seniority workers earning more under a market rate adjustment would still receive all new general wage increases.

Wage increases for full-timers will keep UPS Teamsters the highest paid delivery drivers in the nation, improving their average top rate to $49 per hour.

New part-time hires at UPS would start at $21 per hour and advance to $23 per hour.

All UPS Teamster drivers classified as 22.4s would be reclassified immediately to Regular Package Car Drivers and placed into seniority, ending the unfair two-tier wage system at UPS.

Safety and health protections, including vehicle air conditioning and cargo ventilation. UPS will equip in-cab A/C in all larger delivery vehicles, sprinter vans, and package cars purchased after Jan. 1, 2024. All cars get two fans and air induction vents in the cargo compartments.

All UPS Teamsters would receive Martin Luther King Day as a full holiday for the first time.

No more forced overtime on Teamster drivers’ days off. Drivers would keep one of two workweek schedules and could not be forced into overtime on scheduled off-days.

UPS Teamster part-timers will have priority to perform all seasonal support work using their own vehicles with a locked-in eight-hour guarantee. For the first time, seasonal work will be contained to five weeks only from November-December.

On July 31, representatives ... will meet to review and recommend the tentative agreement. All UPS rank-and-file members will receive a list of improvements in the contract. ... Member voting begins August 3 and concludes August 22.

The UPS Teamsters National Master Agreement is the single largest private-sector collective bargaining agreement in North America.]

Check the article for the full list; but ho ho holy shit.

This is huge. It shows the collective bargaining WORKS. The Teamsters sent a message to UPS and this win will send a message to Corporate America that unions can WIN for rank-and-file workers!!!

[ahqkas]

Can I request kissing headcanons for Charles Smith and Arthur Morgan with gn!s/o please?

THE KISS OF LIFE ; arthur morgan & charles smith

PAIRING! arthur morgan x gn!reader, charles smith x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS! how his kisses constantly bring out the joy of life

RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2 MASTERLIST!

ARTHUR MORGAN IS A ROUGH MAN. Everyone knows. From the people he considers family to the strangers he meets on the streets. His shell is strong to keep him intact but even the strongest breaks.

To you, he’s hopelessly devoted.

His kisses carry the scent of nature - fresh pine, flowers’ scent. They also carry the spicy side as well - the smoke of cigarettes, the faintest hint of gunpowder. The characters of his kisses are the same. They can be gentle and sweet and they can be rough and desperate.

He’s a man of a few words, but his kisses show exactly what he wants to say. A kiss can communicate thousands of words.

A protective edge seeps to his kisses when he returns from a particularly dangerous mission, where his wits and strength were tested to the maximum. He’s gripping at your waist, thighs, and jaw that night as if reassuring himself he’s really there and you won’t just vanish into the thin air.

Life with the Van der Linde gang means moments alone are rare, especially with the noisy members. Arthur often steals kisses in hidden places or when no one’s looking. He doesn’t need to have Sean hanging on his shoulders, chuckling about forbidden love. But those kisses turn into something else quicker than anything when the moon is high enough on the dark sky. His affection is no longer timid but rather bold, messy kisses placed anywhere the skin of your body shows up uncovered by clothing. He’s making up for the times he couldn’t kiss you openly and he sure does know the way to convince you.

CHARLES, KNOWN FOR HIS CALM DEMEANOR, APPROACHES EVERY KISS WITH THE SAME THOUGHTFUL INTENSITY. When he’s kissing you, it feels like he’s truly present in the moment, giving you all of his attention and care. His kisses are slow. Each one a vow of loyalty and love.

The man’s kisses are often followed by the essence of nature as he’s always spending the time outside in the wilderness. There’s a distinct freshness to them, a mix of earth and pine. When his lips meet yours, it’s like suddenly being surrounded by the tall trees and growing plants. He’s always warm and inviting for you, and there’s a sense of peace that comes with every kiss, as if he’s sharing a piece of his own inner calmness with you.

He cups your face every time he kisses you with a gentle hand, his thumbs softly tracing your cheeks as his lips brush against yours.

However, when passion takes over, Charles’ kisses become more intense, more needy. His usually composed behavior crumbles and even through the thought of it seems scary, he doesn’t mind when it’s with you. He pulls you closer, trying to show you things he can’t say.

Regardless of the situation, kisses with Charles always leave you feeling cherished and loved. He has a way of making you feel like you’re standing on top of the world. Whenever it’s a soft peck on the forehead to soothe your worries or a passionate kiss that sets your heart racing, Charles enjoys all of it.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified.

[cameronspecial]

Her Protector And His Hubris

Pairing: Bodyguard!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Being Stalked, SMUT, Mother's Death, Mentions of Attempted School Shooting, and Getting Shot.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 11.4K

Summary: Drew's job is to protect her, but he falls for the brilliance of his client and this turns into a whirlwind romance. What can go wrong?

A/N: Damn, this is so long. Also, this is inspired by the Twisted series by Ana Huang, specifically Twisted Games. I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

The sounds of glassware clinking and small talk fill Drew’s ears as he surveys the restaurant. The dim lighting makes him anxious because it impedes his ability to notice any threats. At least, it’s better than when she goes to those ridiculous house parties. Those were not only a safety risk, but irritating to the thirty-year-old man. Her laughter draws his eyes back to her. Ugh, she’s laughing at something he said. Drew doesn’t know what Y/N sees in Sean. This is her third date with him and Drew can easily see that they wouldn’t make it far in the relationship. Sean doesn’t give a tip when they go out to eat. Volunteering in any capacity would be beneath him. And she seemed oblivious to the way he would ogle at her breasts. Drew’s fist tightens as he observes Sean reach over and take Y/N’s hand. Sean brings it up to his lips, kissing up her wrist to her elbow. Drew wants to take Sean’s hands and crush his fingers for the way he touches Y/N. Sean’s touch is consensual with the girl, yet it isn’t welcomed by her bodyguard. Drew knows he shouldn’t be feeling this way about her as her protector. It’s not his place. 

Drew is supposed to be a professional. He’s a bodyguard for heaven's sake; one wrong move and she could be in danger. But what is it about the way her eyes sparkle when she eats those incredibly expensive macarons? What is it about the way her hips move in a teasing manner as she walks ahead of him? What is it about the way her nails glide across the table that makes him wish they are scratching down his back? What is it about her that drives him crazy? Y/N Y/L/N has been his client for a year now and it hasn’t been easy. Not because there are constant threats against her, but because she makes him want to throw away any sense of duty to the job and ravage her. At first, he thought it was just his primal sexual needs that attracted him to her. However, over the year of getting to know her, he realizes he genuinely loves and admires her. 

He began working for Magnus Y/L/N after one of Magnus’s competitors threatened the CEO’s daughter. Magnus didn’t waste any time in hiring Drew to protect Y/N. Drew thought that Y/N was going to be like all his other clients. Spoiled. Rude. Self-centred.  Greedy. She was none, but one of those things. Being spoiled by her father her whole life engraving the trait into the twenty-three-year-old woman. She was spoiled in the sense she could get whatever she wanted, not in the sense that she would demand the riches of the world. He was pleasantly surprised to find she would always use please and thank you with everyone, even those far below her social class. She would volunteer to read to children at the library purely because she enjoyed the company of the kids. She would not hesitate to help her friends out with money for rent if they needed it. So far, Magnus’s rival has yet to act on his threat; nevertheless, Drew would be there to protect her if he does. It is not only his career; it is his life purpose because he has fallen in love with the young socialite he is tasked to protect. He would lay down his life for her. 

The bubbles of jealousy in Drew’s stomach start to subside when he sees Y/N’s face fall at something Sean said. Irritation replaces her smile and Drew feels satisfied with this turn of events. He can see she just wants to get away from the man ahead of her and Drew wants nothing more but to take her back home. Y/N calls over the waiter asking for the bill. Drew knows she will pay for the cheque. She is all for taking turns with paying for dates. Sean never pays though and she is too nice to point it out. It’s not like Sean can’t afford it. He works at the most prestigious corporate law firm, which happens to be his father’s. Drew isn’t going to complain if it’s the reason why Y/N no longer wants to be around the man. 

As the waiter approaches the table with the chequebook, Drew heads over to the table, ready to escort Y/N out of the restaurant. She pays for the bill, standing up with a glare at Sean. “I wish I could’ve seen what a pig you were before I went on two more dates with you,” she snarls at him. Drew helps her put her coat on and hovers his hands over her lower back to guide her toward the front door. Sean scoffs, “Whatever. You wouldn’t have been that good of a lay anyways.” Y/N doesn’t so much as look over her shoulder at the childish man. She refuses to let him get to her. Drew’s hand turns into a fist and he leans closer to her. “Do you want me to take care of him?” She shakes her head, “No, it’s fine. He doesn’t deserve any more of my brain space. He’s a pig.” The only thing that could stew Drew’s anger is the need to comfort Y/N. They walk towards her car and Drew holds the passenger’s side door open for her. She whispers a thank you as she slips into the seat. “Home?” he asks once he gets behind the wheel. She nods, letting her attention be drawn out the window. His lip tightens at her upset look, “I’m sorry he was a jerk. He doesn’t deserve you.” She keeps the silence going, only returning with a hum in thanks. 

When they get back to Y/N’s penthouse, Drew opens the door for her and does a quick visual sweep of the living room to make sure nothing is amiss. He is satisfied with her safety and holds her hands as she takes off her heels. She walks to her bathroom to get rid of her makeup and change into more comfortable clothes, while Drew heads to the kitchen to take out the dulce de leche ice cream from the freezer. He finds her waiting on the couch in sweatpants, an old t-shirt and a claw clip in her hair. She holds out her hand for the ice cream and he hands it to her, joining her on the couch to view whatever show she chooses. 

He isn’t surprised to hear the familiar jingle of Bob’s Burgers’ theme song. She has been re-watching the show recently on Disney+. This tradition has been a part of their daily schedule since she made him crack nine months ago. During the first three months of his employment, he would listen to her beg him to join her nightly unwindings. Drew refused, stating it was unprofessional of him to do so. He gave in after three months when he saw she had a hard day and she needed some comfort from someone. She had been late for work because the car wouldn’t start. Her lunch, which she had packed and was looking forward to, was dropped on the floor after an idiot bumped into her. And to top it off, she got into an argument with her father about a charity she wanted to support. Drew knew she needed someone in her corner, so he didn’t even wait for her to ask to sit down beside her on the couch with a pint of ice cream he knew she loved. 

They spend the night in comfortable silence, laughing at the Belcher family’s hilarious hijinks. He can speak up and ask her what Sean had said, but he knows all she needs right now is something to get it off of her mind and Drew would give her that. He would do anything for her. 

———

Drew hates it when Y/N goes to parties. They are loud, crowded and dark. It makes his job ten times harder. Add the fact that he has to deal with a drunk client and he dreads the times when she announces she is going out for a party. Y/N doesn’t normally get drunk. She rarely drinks more than two drinks at any event because she hates the creeping headache that happens even as she drinks her first one. However, tonight, Drew can see she just needs to let go of everything just for a night. He stays close behind her, towering over everyone in the party, which gives him an advantage in terms of her protection. His eyes are caught by a commotion in the room. It looks like a fight is breaking out in the other corner and Drew wants to get Y/N out of here before it can escalate to harm her. In the split second, he turns away from her, Y/N has managed to get up on the table behind him and is now dancing without her shirt on. 

The party people’s cheers draw Drew’s attention back to his charge. His eyes widen at her drunk dance and he tries to ignore the aching strain in his pants. The swell of her breasts is on full display thanks to her lack of a shirt; her skin pressing against the lacey bra that she wearing. He looks around the room to see the arousal of the other men in the room and all he wants to do is punch every single person eyeing her. He needs to get her down from there; if not for her safety, then because he doesn’t want to get in trouble for causing a scene at the party. How is he going to get her down from there safely? “Y/N, Precious. Please, come down from there,” he pleads, holding his hand out for her to take so she can get down. He can hear the boos of the drunk boys around them. He shakes off his annoyance at them and looks back toward her. Her arms cross, “No, I like it up here.” She turns her back to him, continuing her dance for the crowd. 

Drew sighs, knowing that was probably the answer he was going to get. If he pulls her down by the arm, he risks dislocating her shoulder or her falling and hitting her head. So he only has one choice. He hops up on the table and sweeps her off her feet. Now carrying her bridal style, Drew gets off of the table and walks toward the front door. The men in the room yell at him for stopping her show; he couldn't care less. He looks as she comes down from the excitement of the party and relaxes in his arms. His heart flutters when she lets out a soft breath, resting her head against his chest with her eyes falling closed. As he heads to the carl, Drew knows Y/N Y/L/N is going to spell out trouble for him. 

———

It’s been one week since her drunk performance and everything has been calm in her life. Y/N remembered what had happened the next morning, instantly mortified by her behaviour and thankful Drew was there to stop her from causing even more of a commotion. The party was filled with children of the country’s richest and most powerful people, so she doubted she would be in any scandal tabloids, yet just the thought that she had behaved like that embarrassed her. Y/N knows she shouldn’t look at her bodyguard the way she does. He is there to protect her and he always maintains his work composure, but she can’t help it. He understands her like the back of his hand and can provide her comfort like no one else by doing little things. His contract stipulates he is supposed to cook her breakfast in the morning and he goes one step further by making her favourites. Her father wanted her to have sustenance in the morning because he knew she was one to skip the first meal of her day, so Drew could’ve just made her eggs or microwaved oatmeal, but he didn’t. The breakfast she receives is picture-perfect and tastes just as good. 

She gets out of the car, thanking Drew for holding the door open for her. They head to the apartment building’s elevator and wait in silence as they reach her penthouse floor. The note taped to the door is Drew’s first indicator that something is amidst. His hand finds the gun at his side and this pulls Y/N away from her phone. “What’s wrong?” she questions, looking around the room for something she has missed. Her eyes spot the white paper standing out against the dark wood of the floor. He heads ahead of her, checking over his shoulder that there are no threats in the small hallway. No one should have access to this floor. It requires her fingerprint and keycard in the elevator to enter. All mail is vetted before passing on in her mail room and any building updates are left there as well. So there is no regular reason why the paper should be on there. 

As their feet reach in front of the door, she is finally able to read the words scattered across it. I saw your little dance, last week, doll. You really should be more careful with showing people what is mine. A picture of the scene in question is printed below. She lets out a terrified gasp, covering her mouth with her hand.

Violated. She feels violated by what she has just read. She may have been okay with the idea of feeling shirtless in front of everyone at the party in her own intoxicated state, but having someone speak about her in that way feels is a violation. Couple that with the fact the speaker had the guts to put the thought on her door and it is an invasion of her privacy. The picture is the cherry on top of the unsettling cake. The person, who dared threaten her, must be someone in her inner circle. Why else would they be at the party? How else could they have gotten into her heavily guarded apartment building? 

Drew can see the panic and fear in her eyes. He turns her away from the door, pulling out his phone to call for backup. She can hear him ordering the police to be called and his security company’s tech analysts come down to sweep the whole building. Her mind goes numb with what to do as more and more people arrive to assess the situation. She can only stand there and watch as everyone who comes tears her home apart, looking for anything out of place. When her bedroom needs to be searched, Drew takes the responsibility of looking through it with her cautious eye on him from the doorway. He makes sure to put everything back exactly how he finds it, taking especially care with the notebooks he knows are her journals. He finishes with her room and invites her to sit on her bed while they wait for the rest of the house to be checked. The all-clear is given around eight o’clock and everyone leaves the apartment in search of clues somewhere else, leaving behind a small army of extra security to guard her house. With a new active threat, Drew’s presence alone isn’t enough to keep her safe. 

Until they know more about the situation, Drew thought it would be safer to remain in her apartment, where he knew every inch of the building and the security measures in place already. There have been no indications the person, who made the threat, had made it into the actual apartment. Not sure if her cook is the one putting her at risk, Drew takes dinner into his own hands. He isn’t much of a cook, but he finds pasta and a jar of sauce in the pantry. He gets to work, making a note to search up how to make some of her favourite dinner meals like he did when he first got the job and had to make her breakfast. 

He finishes the meal and places it in front of Y/N, who sits waiting at the dining room table with a blank stare and her knees to her chest. He sits to her right and pushes the plate toward her to snap her out of her thoughts. “I know it’s scary to be here right now, but we’ve checked the whole house and there is no sign the intruder came into the house. It’s safe. I’m here and I promise I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you,” he whispers. The last part is mostly a silent vow to himself. Her eyes glance upward at him, “I’m not hungry.” The only thing she manages to get out. The unreasonable side of her is telling her the intruder had somehow touched her food. Drew sighs, “Precious, you have to eat something. You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast this morning. I let not eating lunch slide, but I really need you to eat dinner. Do you want me to make you something else?” The care in his voice causes her to pull the plate closer to her; she can feel his eyes on her as she brings the fork to her food and then her mouth. He gives her a smile before digging into his own food. 

She follows him into the kitchen after dinner and watches him do the dishes. He doesn’t let her help out, so she leans against the counter. Once he is done with the chore, she heads to her bedroom and listens as his footsteps stay close to hers. She starts going through her nighttime routine, getting her pyjamas and heading to the master bathroom to change. She can feel his eyes on her the whole time and she is comforted by the fact that he is still taking care of her. He should probably leave her alone. They’ve checked the whole apartment. No one is there and his room is down the hall, so an invader would have to go past his room first without his notice to get to her and that is impossible. He doesn’t want to leave though; he wants to make sure she is okay. 

The door to the bathroom creaks open and she walks out in light pink sweatpants and an old white t-shirt. He knows she is getting ready to go to sleep. He is about to leave the room when her voice calls out. “Can you stay please?” He turns back to her with knitted brows. She points to her bed, “Can you stay with me in my room?” “Y/N, I don’t think that’s wise,” he advises, leaning against her door frame. She steps closer to him, “Please, I’m scared to be alone. I don’t think I’ll get any sleep if I am.” This hits a nerve in him. Drew is always caring for her well-being. Telling her to eat. Reminding her to go to sleep. Little things like that. Drew lets out a loud breath, nodding his head. “Let me just go change my clothes and I’ll be back,” he notifies her. He leaves her room and she settles herself into her bed. For tonight, she has to stay in this house, but tomorrow, they’ll be able to get their barrings and maybe find somewhere else to stay. Her skin crawls at the idea someone thinks she is their property and they went through so much trouble to let her know. 

He returns in a Western Carolina University t-shirt and gray sweatpants. The sweatpants may be a little baggy on him, yet it doesn’t leave anything to her imagination and she feels her thighs clench together. She shouldn’t be imagining how good it would feel to be stretched out by him. He’s her bodyguard. He must have a partner of some kind. A girlfriend. A boyfriend. A spouse. He’s too good-looking and sweet not to. She may have been living with him for a year now, but she knows nothing about him. He doesn’t really talk about his personal life. She’s only been able to pick up a few things about him over the year. His favourite book is East of Eden; she’s seen him read it about three times since he moved in. When he misses home, he goes to the grocery store to buy the ingredients for his mom’s chicken casserole. And now, she knows him or someone he knows went to Western Carolina University.

He sees her on the bed and his footsteps bring him near her. She swears it’s like there are rocks in his feet because his steps are heavy and slow. He hesitates as he pulls the sheets back and causes the bed to dip as he lies down. The covers are pulled against his chest when Y/N turns to him to place her head on his chest. He doesn’t say anything. They can both feel they need this physical contact to be soothed. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he is a little shaken up by the whole ordeal like Y/N. What would have happened if they had been home? What would have happened if they got home earlier and had run into the intruder? It doesn’t sit right in him as he listens to her breaths fall shallow and sleep comes over her. Drew is not lucky enough to fall into the same state as her. His insomnia and need to protect her will keep him up for most of the night. 

———

Drew is surprised when he wakes up from a five-hour sleep. Normally, he sleeps no more than two hours a night and that is if he is lucky to get any sleep at all. Something about having her in his arms while he lies in bed must bring peace to his insomnia. He looks at her with a sleepy smile. His eyes fall on the clock and he should probably get up to make breakfast so they can get their day started. He needs to come up with a new protection plan and assess if she is still safe in her apartment. His limbs untangle from hers; he does his best to not wake her up as he gets out of bed. He’ll get hot while cooking, so he slips off his shirt and leaves it on his bed before going to the kitchen. He pulls the door closed but not completely, leaving a little sliver open for him to be able to come to check in on her. 

She wakes to an empty bed and she wishes it isn’t. Panic fills her, thinking something has happened to Drew. The sounds of pans hitting each other fill her in on where he is. Her heart swells at the thought that he is still making her breakfast after last night’s scare. She is about to leave the warmth of her bed when her eyes fall on something on her bed. The gray shirt once on Drew’s chest now rests on her blankets. He was so gracious to her last night and took care of her. He didn’t have to stay with her the whole night; he could’ve sneaked out of her room as soon as she fell asleep, but he didn’t. Solely the thought of him brews something between her legs that needs to be fixed before she goes down to eat. She should have enough time while he is cooking. 

Her hand reaches out for the shirt to bring it to her nose. The smell of his Versace cologne and the smoke from the cigarettes he sneaks fill her senses. He has been hiding that he smokes ever since he found out she isn’t a fan of the tobacco-filled sticks. She shouldn’t like the smell of the cigarettes, but she can’t help that it reminds her of him. The shirt falls to the side of her head; she uses her hands to pull down her pants and underwear, leaving her shirt on for some warmth. One hand goes up underneath her shirt and the other goes up to her mouth. She puts her fingers in her mouth before bringing it down to her weeping pussy. A wet finger plunges into her hole, causing her to cry out in pleasure. She had failed to see her bedroom door was not completely closed. 

Drew stops his movement as soon as he hears her scream. He shuts the stove off, moving the pan off of the hot burner. He runs upstairs to her room. He stops just short of the doorframe when he hears her pants. It is obvious what she is doing by how breathy they are. It’s wrong to keep listening, but he hopes he can get a hint as to who she fantasizes about while she satisfies herself. It takes every bit of self-restraint he has not to pull his penis out of his pants and jerk himself off to the sweet sounds coming out of her mouth. “Drew.” His name falls off of her lips; this has to be a dream. There is no way the woman he loves, his client, is masturbating to the thought of him. He peeks his head through the door and suddenly his dick starts pressing against the fabric of his pants. While her hands are placed on her vagina and breast, her face is to the side, burying itself into a gray piece of fabric. He recognizes it as the shirt he left here before he went downstairs to make their breakfast. What he is about to do is inappropriate; nevertheless, he needs to be the one drawing those sounds from her. 

“You made me think you were in danger, Precious. Instead, I find you touching what should be mine,” he snarls, taking a step into the room. The use of the word mine should cause turmoil in her stomach; however, she knows he isn’t using it in the same sense as the note. Drew uses mine to mean an exchange. Whereas, the note made her a possession of her writer and that doesn’t sit well with her. If Y/N gives Drew a piece of herself, then he will give her one right back. She would be an object to whoever wrote the note. He stalks closer to the bed, getting a better look at her soaked pussy. She feels the bed drop under the weight of his upper body; he stays kneeling at the foot of the bed. His hand wraps around her ankle and she yips as he pulls her closer to him. 

He takes a chance to glimpse up at her face, which is staring down at him with want. She gives him a minuscule nod and tries pushing his head toward her aching heat. His neck resists her force, chuckling at her actions. “Aren’t you eager, Precious?” he teases, smothering his head between her legs. He laps at her folds like a man who hasn’t drank water in years. Her hands grip the sheets beneath her, creating waves in them. Drew’s eyes narrow at her hands and he brings them to his hair. Her nails graze his scalp as she throws her head back with a moan. He pauses for a second, wanting to appreciate the look of bliss on her face and the symphony coming out of her mouth. His mouth continues to work against her, making her feel incredible in ways no man has before. “Drew, please. Keep going,” she begs. Her fingers bring his head closer to her, clenching around his tongue. He pulls back with a smirk, “You like this, huh? Do you like being eaten out by your bodyguard?” Her head bobs, wrapping her legs around his head. She grinds her hip into his face. 

His tongue darts into her vagina bringing her to her climax. “Hmmm. I love the sounds you are making for me, Precious. It’s my favourite sound in the world,” he mumbles, cleaning her up. He stands up and admires her body twisting to the side in contentment. She sits up, eyeing the way his pants aren’t hiding anything at all. She scoots to the edge of her bed and brings him in between her spread-opened legs. Her hands meet the skin of his bare chest. She points a finger against him, tracing down the middle line of his abs. She reaches his lower abdomen and slips her hand inside of his pants. “Now, it’s my turn to hear the pretty noises you can make,” she instructs in a sultry voice. 

Her hands shove him back a little, so she has enough space to sink to her knees. She grips his dick with her hand, rubbing up and down. It drags out the most amazing groan out of him. She can the wetness pool in between her thighs again. He spots the way her legs come together and it makes him even harder. “Precious, this feels so good,” he pants out. She needs something to loosen the friction, which means she opens her mouth and brings his length into it. She sucks at the tip. Her tongue swirls around the head of his dick, tasting his precum. “You taste amazing,” she praises before shoving herself further down his cock. He hits the back of her throat and she stays there for a second until she needs to pull back for air. She lets the air into her lungs before taking him into her mouth. Her head moves on his shaft and she continues to repeat the routine for a few minutes. He starts to feel a tug at the pit of his stomach, causing him to twitch in her mouth. His hips start to move back to meet her in the middle and unleash the tightening in his belly. She eagerly swallows everything he gives her. 

He pries her head off of him, gazing at the way a string of his cum connects his tip to her lips. “Get on the bed,” he orders. She climbs onto the bed and looks at him through her eyelashes. Her lustful stare hardens him again. She removes her shirt while he takes care of his pants. He dives into bed beside her and twists them both to their sides so her back is pressed against his chest. Mimicking the positions of her hands when he caught her, his fingers play with two of her buds. She can feel his hot breath on the back of her neck as he twirls her nipples to arouse her. He is satisfied by the dampness between her legs and grabs his dick instead to guide it into her pussy. 

His thrust brings her hand to his bicep over her shoulder and she digs her nails into the skin. The slight pain it brings is worth it if it tells him how well he is doing to make her feel good. “You are clinging to my cock so beautifully. I think I might cum right now, but lucky for you, I have better stamina than that,” he groans, continuing the bring his hips against her ass. His hand on her breast goes to her hip to help keep her in place. He finds her G-spot, making her curl in on herself a little. His back follows her shift forward and his lips find her neck. She feels his teeth squeeze her skin between them, throwing her head back to give him more access. The grip on her hip is so strong that she is sure there will be a bruise later on. Eventually, she starts needing more out of his pace, so she propels backward to meet him. With both of them now working together, a knot starts to build in her lower abdomen. “Drew, I’m about to come,” she cries out, tensing her hand around his bicep. As her walls start to clutch around him, her face falls forward and he can no longer see her face. He focuses on aiding her in her climax. 

The hold she has on his penis hinders his ability to drive forward, yet it doesn’t stop him from hitting the spot inside of her that helps uncoil the formed tangle. He works her through her high, yanking himself out once she is loose enough. She rotates onto her back and smiles at the sight of him. He shifts to be hovering over her on his elbows. His lips connect to hers, separating so they are barely touching, “That orgasm was for you, but do you think you can have another one? This one is for me. I want to see your face while I unravel you.” He places his stiff dick between her legs and looks at her for permission to continue. She feels a little sensitive, except she wants to give him another release like he just gave her. Her skull jerks up and down. 

He grins down at her, kissing her as he enters her again. Her slick from her recent orgasm helps him do it with ease. She lets out a whimper because of her delicate state; head dropping to the pillow. In this second round, he is much slower, wanting to take his time with her. There is no guarantee he will ever get to be in this position again, no matter how much he prays to be. He brings her into her arms and buries his head into her neck, leaving prints along it with his mouth. The feeling of her wrapped around him tugs a moan out of him. It encourages him to persist, wanting to be in her vice once more. Another petit mort constructs within him. He desires to hold off a little longer; this must last longer. He can think of one way to be in this intimate moment forever. “I love you,” he rushes out. She looks away with disbelief in her eyes, “You don’t have to say that just because we are having sex.” He freezes, pulling back to see her eyes. His hand cups her cheek; his thumb ghosts her lips. “I’m not saying it because we are having sex. I’m saying it during sex,” he clarifies, searching to see if she understands. Her shoulder shrugs, “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is it means I truly mean the words. I’ve felt it for a long time. There was never a right time to say it,” he spells out. “I love how you ask the cook to buy me uncrustables and leave them in the freezer. I love how you always bring water to your drunk friends on a night out. I love how the universe gave you everything and you still give everyone all you have.” Her heart must’ve beaten out of her chest and jumped into his mouth to his chest because he had her heart entirely. “I love you too,” she confesses, the truth in her eyes. The joy he feels at her words combined with the gripping of her vagina brings him to an early climax. Thick ropes of semen come out of him as he presses forward with his hips again to ride it out. 

She follows soon after, pressing his body against hers by wrapping a leg around his hip. Their heaves overcome the room, a reminder of the line they crossed and never want to reverse. He slips out of her, now soft after the exercise they just went through. His body collapses to her side, exhaustion taking over him. She nudges her skull upon his arm, letting him sling it around her shoulder. “Can you carry me to the bathroom, Drew? Please,” she inquiries. He looks down at her with a grin, “Of course, Precious.” His feet plant on the floor, rising to the side of the bed. She gazes at his naked glory ahead of her. He kisses her forehead and assists her in sitting up. Her arms and legs enclose around him, bringing them chest to chest. His hands support the bottom of her thighs as he walks to her adjoining bathroom. He flips the light on and opens the toilet lid to allow her to sit on it. Before removing her from the toilet, she hears water dripping from the shower head. Steam fills the room and he transports her to the shower. Since she doesn’t like baths, she went all with the design of her shower. A room-size stall. Waterfall showerhead. Side jets. A little alcove to sit on. The whole nine yards. 

He sets her down on the seat, going to get the shampoo. He returns and starts working the soap into her hair. “Did you really mean it?” she mutters, barely louder than the water. His arms wrap around her shoulders, “Every single word.” 

———

They didn’t have a label for what their relationship had blossomed into and they didn’t feel they needed one. She is his and he is hers; that’s what matters. It’s been a month since the stalker incident and there hasn’t been another. Y/N thought she would need a break every so often from seeing the man she loves every single second of the day, except it isn’t the case. It’s Drew’s monthly day off and she craves his company more than anything. He didn’t want to leave her side either, especially with the stalker at large, but it would’ve been suspicious if he had stayed. What they have between them is meant only for their knowledge. Throughout the day, they both found themselves peeking at the clock for a sense of how long until they could be together again. Y/N’s knees would bounce at her desk at work and Drew would wander the streets of New York City, buying anything that made him think of her. As he walks through the front door of her apartment, it’s a real struggle for him to hide his grin from James. James Notting works for the same security agency as Drew and replaces Drew on his days off. James spots his counterpart and his eyebrows connect. Drew is back earlier than normal.

“You can go now. I’m back on duty,” Drew informs, placing the shopping bags on the table. James shakes his head, “Are you sure? You still have two hours left.” “Yeah, I ran out of things to do,” he states.

“Cool. Thanks.”

“Where is she?”

“The kitchen.”

As if on queue, the sound of a pan dropping on the floor reverberates around the apartment. “I’m okay.” They hear her yell from the other room. Drew looks at James in confusion. They both know she can’t cook. “Don’t ask me. She’s been in the kitchen for about an hour and ordered me not to enter,” James explains, grabbing his stuff to leave. Drew locks the door after James exists and enters the kitchen to figure out what his precious is doing. “Precious, what are you up to?” he interrogates. Y/N jumps at the sound of his voice, hiding something behind her back. “What are you doing back home so early?” He chuckles and steps toward her, caging her against the counter and between his arms. Neither of them answers the other’s question. She grins up at him and kisses him quickly as a distraction. His tall stature makes her attempts futile. He glances over her shoulder to see slightly burnt roasted potatoes on a pan. The scent of herbed chicken hits his nose and he scans for the source, finding it on the counter beside them. “Are you trying to make dinner?” Her attention shies away from him, which he returns with a finger under her chin. He can feel the warmth growing on her cheeks.

“Yes, but it didn’t go as well as I thought it would. I thought it would be easier. You don’t have to eat it.”

“Non-sense. It looks delicious.”

Excitement blooms in her and she gets serving dishes out of the pantry. He helps her set the table in warm silence. Everything is in place and they seat themselves at the table. She happily serves him food, waiting for him to take a bite. The first thing he tastes as the potatoes make contact with his tongue is a bitter undertone that overpowers everything. He resists the urge to crumple his face like paper. Her eyes are trained on him, anticipating the review of her cooking. He can’t dim the hope in her eyes, so he has no choice but to lie. She put so much effort into this dinner for them. “This tastes wonderful, Precious. I didn’t know I was protecting such a good cook this whole time. You should help me make breakfast,” he applauds. “Here, let me serve you some so you can try.” He selects the unburnt potatoes and cuts her the chicken thigh before handing her back the plate. It’s not like the meal is horrible, the potatoes are just a little burnt and Drew wants to keep the secret to himself. 

She thanks him in a whisper. She digs into her meal and he can see she is enjoying it. He lets out a small satisfied sigh and gets back to eating. Y/N is a slow eater, so it’s not a surprise Drew finishes eating first. His head rests on his chin and he resorts to gawking at her. She can feel his stare on her. 

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“Because you are. And I would kill anyone who would dare to hurt you. Your heart belongs to me.” 

“And yours belongs to me,” she repeats, leaning over to give him a kiss. She doesn’t have to worry about being safe. As long as Drew is around, she has nothing to worry about. 

———

The weekend means they can spend all day in her apartment. Her work week was left behind for forty-eight heavenly hours of the two of them together. While cuddling on her couch with the TV on, he realized they hadn’t checked the mail since Friday, so he went down to get it. He listens to the whine of the metal door opening as he reaches in to take the mail out. He looks through the different envelopes and finds one with his name written across the front. The writing is vaguely familiar. His hand tears open the paper and pulls out the letter. You don’t deserve her. She is mine. Under the writing is a picture of his longing glances at her. It is clear to anyone the feelings held within him. He folds the paper and puts it into his pocket. He should probably send it to the lab for analysis, but it would bring suspicion to his relationship with Y/N. He doesn’t need anyone’s help. He could keep her safe by himself; nothing would happen to her with him by her side. Plus, this is more of a threat to him and he isn’t scared by some loser's threats. 

He enters the apartment to find the couch now empty. He can hear the shower running and his mouth turns into a curve. She has been putting off showering while he is around because it always ends up with them having sex. He decides to give her a break and rests on the couch. Something on the coffee table piques his interest.

It’s a thick rectangle wrapped in purple paper and pulled together by a red ribbon. There is no note that he can see. He rips open the gift and finds a special edition of East of Eden. It’s a stunning hardcover copy with golden sprayed edges. He thumbs through the pages and lands on the title page. She had written on it. I hope you like this special edition of the book. It’s just a little gift to show my appreciation for everything you do for me. I love you so much. -Y/N <3. His heart is touched by her actions and tears form in his eyes. The distant sound of water hitting the shower tiles is replaced by her footsteps approaching her living room. Her hair is being held up by a green towel and a white one is wrapped around her breasts to cover her. “You’re back! And you found my gift. Do you like it?” she inquires, joining him on the couch again. He brings her onto his lap; his hand resting on her bare thigh. “I did find it and I love it. Thank you, Precious.” His lips kiss her neck and his hand makes his way to the front of her body. “After I’m done thanking you for the gift, I’m also going to have to punish you for taking a shower without me,” he growls against her skin, plunging into her now-drenched hole. 

———

Drew sits across from her at the cocktail bar, enjoying the way she laughs at the stupid joke he made. It is inappropriate for him to be sitting with her in public. No one is around to object to it though. The patrons of the dive bar could care less about who the couple are to each other. This isn’t the type of establishment Y/N could often be found at, except she has a point to prove. 

They had been trying to figure out what to eat for dinner when Drew made a teasing remark. “What should we get for dinner? We can order Fortunas, Petite Coquette, or… Why are you looking at me like that?” she grumbled. He shrugged, “Everything you eat is so fancy. Have you ever eaten food that you don’t eat with a fork and knife?” She gently slaps his biceps. “I eat sushi,” she argued. His brows raised, “You use chopsticks for those. Let me reword my questions. Do you ever use your hands to eat something?” “Yes! I use my hands to eat oysters,” she pointed out, continuing to scroll through their food options. “You are still proving my point, Precious,” he teased. Y/N got up from the dining room table and headed to her room. “Where are you going?” “I’m going to get ready. You should too. I’m going to prove you wrong,” she told him.

This is how they find themselves in a dive bar in Brooklyn. The waitress arrives with their food and places it in between them. They both thank her as she walks off. Drew studies the wings on the plate and his eyes fall on her again. “Are you really going to eat those with your hands?” She flicks her head up and down, reaching over to grab a wing. He delights in the way the sauce smears across her fingers. She bites into the meat, humming at the taste. “See, I’m using my fingers,” she demonstrates. Her stained hands are held up to his face. He takes it into his hold and licks a little bit of sauce off of it, “Hmm, you did. You picked a good sauce. I like it.” He picks up his own wing to devour. “How are your siblings?” she asks. He gives her a surprised look, “You remember I have siblings?” “Of course, it’s one of the only things I know about you. I just realized we know so little about each other,” she notes, wiping her hands with a napkin. 

“My siblings are good. One of my sisters just had a baby girl. What else do you want to know?”

“Aww, I love babies. You’ll have to tell me more about the baby later. As for what else I want to know… hmmm… When we first had sex, you were wearing a Western North Carolina t-shirt. Did you go to school there?”

“I did. I double majored in English, and Screen and Television.”

“Really? I can see why you did English because you are always reading when we are home, but Screen and Television? If you majored in those, then why become a bodyguard?”

His shoulders shrug and his vision drops to the food. “Yes, screen and television. I’ve always wanted to be an actor, but once I graduated, I realized it wasn’t practical. So I enlisted right after I graduated and after six years in the service, I decided not to renew my contract. It got too much for me,” he recounts. She can see how his tone has mellowed out and she reaches across the table to hold his hand. “It must have been a hard few years. Thank you for protecting our country. In a way, we can technically say you were protecting me that whole time too. How did you get into the security business?” His thumb circles the skin on the back of her hand, “You’re welcome. And I guess you could say I was made to protect you. After I left the army, it just made sense to become a bodyguard. The skills I learnt in the army transferred over quite nicely.” “Makes sense. You are very good at your job. I always feel very secure when you are around. How long have you been a bodyguard?” she continues the conversation. “I’m coming up on two years on Sunday, actually. I did one year as protection detail for a bunch of different clients and the almost one year I have with you.” She takes this information in and files it away for when they get home. 

The waitress returns with another plate of wings and this time, there are carrots and celery on the side. Y/N’s face scrunches at the sight of the celery. “Yuck, you can eat all of the celery. I don’t like it,” she imitates like a child. She picks up a green stick and waves it at his mouth. He tilts his head to the side, “How can you not like celery? Have you tried it?” Her head shifts from side to side, “No, but my mom didn’t like it.” The conversation pauses at the mention of Katrina Y/L/N. Drew knows the story of Y/N’s mother. 

Katrina Y/L/N was a guidance counsellor for a public high school in an underdeveloped part of New York. She didn’t work for the money. She worked to truly make a difference in the lives of children who needed her. Unfortunately, it was what brought her life to an end. One of her students had been expelled and he had returned to the school for his revenge on everyone, who he blamed for his expulsion. Katrina had been able to stop him before anyone could get hurt, except when the police arrived, they didn’t know. One wrong misinterpretation resulted in Katrina falling to the floor and she was bleeding to death. Y/N’s father wanted to sue the police department for all it was worth and obliterate the officer, who had accidentally shot his wife. Y/N talked Magnus down from his vengeance. They had all the money they needed and nothing could bring Katrina back. Katrina had chosen to save the young boy from the bullet and twelve-year-old Y/N had a much better idea of how she could honour her mother. With her father’s help, she designed outfits for a fashion show. Tickets were charged to some of the biggest names in the business and all proceeds went to an organization that helped renovate public schools.

Drew had learnt all of this when he was doing research on Y/N after getting his job. He remembers going through the pictures of Y/N waiting outside of the school for her mom to come back. He remembers the pain on her face when the coroner wheeled her mother out on a gurney. He wished he could’ve been there to keep Katrina safe for Y/N, but nineteen-year-old him wouldn’t have had any idea what to do. 

“Well, you aren’t your mother. So you should try it,” he suggests, wanting to ease her discomfort from the thought of her mom. She considers his order and takes a bite out of the stringy vegetable. Her face shows her discomfort at the taste in her mouth. Drew chortles at her expression, taking the stalk out of her hand. “Okay, so maybe celery isn’t your thing. At least, you have me to eat all the mean celery,” he jokes and finishes the rest of the disliked marshland plant. Y/N’s lips don’t rise at his joke, “My mom always used to say I would make an amazing fashion designer one day. She would let me style her outfits for different events with my dad. Could you imagine? Eight-year-old me going through my mom’s closet and picking out whatever I wanted her to wear. I look back at some of her old event pictures and think she really must have loved me to have worn some of the things I chose.” He smiles at the imagery of the girl he loves playing dress up with her mom. “She did love you. You know that right?” he confirms. The corner of her mouth softly raises, “I know. She told me it every second she could. I just wish I could know if she is proud of me. She may have said I would be a good fashion designer, but I want to know if she is proud of my choice to actually pursue it. I’m not doing anything noble like her.” 

He can sense the comfort she needs from him and he gets up to head behind her chair. His arms wrap around her shoulder, pulling her into an embrace. His lips meet the skin of her cheek and then the shell of her ear. “She would be so proud of you. Precious, what you are doing is noble. You took what you love and you used it to give back to the community. That is noble,” he reassures. He can feel her breath hitch at such physical touch from him in public. They’ve never been this close to each other in proximity to other people and she is thanking the fact no one in this bar would care about the daughter of a big CEO. Her arms reach out behind her to bring him in closer, “Thank you. You made me feel better. Do you think I can talk to you more about my mom? My dad rarely likes to talk about her.” 

“I will always be here to talk about your mom if you want, Precious.”

———

All week Y/N would return home from work and immediately shut herself in her home office, ordering Drew to stay out of the room. He doesn’t know what she is up to. Maybe she just needs some space from him. He starts suspecting that isn’t the logic behind her motives once she demands Drew stay in his bedroom until she comes to get him. He hasn’t stayed more than ten minutes in what used to be his old room following them getting together. Her room has practically become his. He could cheat and look at the security cameras in her living room, but he doesn’t want to spoil whatever surprise she has for him. The sound of the front door opening causes nerves to grow in him, except he trusts she wouldn’t do anything to put herself in danger. He busies himself with reading the copy of The Son by Philipp Meyer Y/N bought him. 

About an hour later, a quiet knock on the door captures his attention. “You can come out now,” she announces and opens the door for him. The open door reveals her wearing the pink sundress he loves so much on her. She beckons him to follow with a massive grin. Their feet slap against the hardwood floor and as they round into the living room, he finds a space full of people. He examines the faces of everyone. He recognizes every single one. Her father. James and their co-workers. His friends. Some of his army buddies. And lastly, his family. Hung across the fireplace is a banner that says Happy Two Years As A Bodyguard, Drew! Everyone cheers at his arrival and he searches for Y/N for answers. She sees his face, “It’s a party to celebrate two years of being a bodyguard.” He wants to hug her, except it would be inappropriate in the opinion of the party guests. To them, Drew and Y/N are just a bodyguard and his clients. The only argument as to why Y/N throws a party for him is her personality. She loves commemorating other people’s accomplishments. 

“This is fantastic, Y/N. Thank you,” he acknowledges, wishing he could give her a kiss. She casts her sights downward and swings her arms behind her back, “It was nothing.  I had fun planning it and making the decorations. It kept me busy.” Drew starts to examine the decorations with a newfound appreciation upon learning she crafted them by hand. “You did all of these. Y/N, these are incredible,” he acclaims. He is impressed by her craftiness. 

He recognizes the smell of his mom’s chicken casserole and his stomach grumbles for a taste. The swarming of his loved ones to congratulate him stops him from being able to do it. Drew is catching up with an old army friend when Y/N presents him with a plate of his favourite foods. “Sorry to interrupt. Drew hasn’t eaten all day. I want to make sure he does at some point today,” she explicates in advance of her walking away to chat with Magnus. His world starts to spin on its own axis. One where she is the axis at the center of his earth. Her effort to concern herself with his well-being and to plan a party for him shows her adoration for him. He couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend and he thinks it is time to officially label who they are to each other. Not to the world. Merely for them to know what they mean to each other. 

———

The guests left a few hours ago after helping with the clean-up, leaving Y/N and Drew to relax on her couch. The words on the page aren’t being processed with Y/N’s head on his lap. She flips through the pages of her magazine. He perceives the way she halts between articles to write down some notes. His digits drag through her hair in admiration. This moment is perfect to legitimize their relationship. “So,” he begins to fixate her view of him. She drops the magazine to her chest. “I was thinking that maybe I could start calling you my girlfriend. Obviously, I won’t be telling other people, but I just think it could be something for us. To prove our devotion to each other.” She beams at him and sits up. Her lips smack on his. “I would be happy to be your girlfriend,” she confides to him. The pressure in his heart diminishes and beats at a steady pace. He feels like the world is in his hands because she quite literally is. 

———

Drew acknowledges it isn’t logical to keep Y/N from the outside world. She can’t stay in the comfort of their home forever. Besides, he treasures the way her hair is a wave in the wind and her eyes are stars in the sunlight. Freshly cut grass nauseates him and he fights through the feeling to keep doing his job. She wishes he could sit with her during her picnic, yet she comprehends his need to stay vigilant. The wine glass in her hand meets her lips and she gulps down the aromatic alcohol. She takes a bite of the brie from the charcuterie board. The breeze from the wind almost carries her magazine into the air. He has to hold in his enjoyment of her chasing after the booklet. She approaches him, finally catching it in front of him. She straightens up with a sense of accomplishment; however, her expression plunges alongside her widening eyes. 

He can’t ask her what is wrong. Her body shoots around him so their backs are facing each other and then he hears it. The one piercing crack that is so familiar to him. His certainty of what the sound was is confirmed when more booms don’t follow. It’s not fireworks. Her body stumbles into his as he wrenches in her direction. She collapses in his arms. 

It shocks her that she couldn’t really feel anything at first. The pressure on her shoulder reminds her of when she got her ears pierced. The bullet breaks through her skin like the puncture of a needle. The next thing she feels is nothing, probably because of the adrenaline going through her body. A crimson stain flowers on her shirt, resembling a rose. As it spreads, the numbness switches to a burn. She starts to think she is being felted into a small wool animal. The whip of another gunshot causes panic to grow in her. What if Drew was hurt? The voices around her start to blur together, becoming one big mush of noise to her. Her eyelids droop like an unsupported bridge, slinging between open and closed until she is kept in a state of unconsciousness. Is this how her mom felt that day, eleven years ago? Is this the day she gets to be reunited with her mother again?

———

Their environment should’ve been under constant scrutiny from him. He shouldn’t have let himself be distracted by her. If he hadn’t, she wouldn’t be in surgery right now. She wouldn’t have had to save him from that bullet. His hands and shirt are covered with her blood thanks to the disconnect of her right axillary artery. He doesn’t want to chance missing an update from the doctor if he gets cleaned up. The doctors are uncertain about her fate, but they are doing everything they can to help her. He wishes he could say the same about himself. 

Drew is aware of his appearance because of the hush that comes over the room. Hospitals are already quiet, but this is different. The silence has a hollowness to it. “Where is my daughter?” Magnus roars as he storms toward Drew. Drew's hunched posture adjusts at the entrance of his boss. He rises to his feet, trying to hide his tears. “She’s in surgery,” he manages to croak out. Magnus’ heart tumbles into his belly, “What do you mean she is in surgery? What happened?” “W- She was having a picnic, sir,” he stutters out. “She was standing in front of me and then all of a sudden she saw something that caused her to put herself behind me. She took the bullet for me.” Magnus’ eyes narrow and his eyebrows form a v, “You were supposed to be her protector. That’s what I hired you for. So how come I’m finding out that my daughter is in a life-or-death situation because of you?”

“It’s my fault, sir. I was distracted and my guard was down. This is all my fault.” 

“Of course, it is! I hope you know that you are fired immediately. You failed to keep my daughter safe. Now, tell me you at least caught the asshole, who hurt her.” 

“I understand your decision, sir. And I managed to fire a shot to incapacity the assailant. He is in police custody.”

Magnus nods in satisfaction, “At least, you can do that right. Do you know who he is? Do you think he was hired by Demitri to hurt her?” “I do know, who he is. No, I don’t think Demitri hired him. I think he is connected to the note Y/N received a few months ago. I’ve identified him as Sean Cox. Y/N and he went on a few dates. She ended it after the third date and he said crass things to her,” Drew relays to Magnus. Magnus snaps his fingers and his own bodyguard rushes to his side. “I want you to find out everything you can about this Sean Cox guy. Now!” he orders, returning his anger back to Drew. “I want you out of her apartment by the end of the week. You are dismissed.” 

———

The doctors were able to stabilize her in surgery and she’s been in a coma for a week. James has been updating Drew on her condition now that his co-worker is her full-time bodyguard. Per his contract with the company, he gets to take a full month off in between contracts that require him to live with the client and if the month is going to be anything like this week, Drew is going to fall apart. His insomnia keeps him awake to ruminate on the possible ways he could’ve saved her. And he keeps coming back to one conclusion. If he wasn’t smitten with her, then she would’ve been unharmed. Not only because he wouldn’t have been preoccupied by her vision, but because Sean wouldn’t have grown jealous enough to want to hurt Drew. His thoughts are interrupted by the ringing of his phone. 

James’ name flashes across the screen and Drew scrabbles to pick it up. “Is she okay?” he worries through the phone. James stops him before he can rant, “She’s fine. She is awake. She actually woke up from the coma two hours ago. I haven’t called yet because I figured you didn’t want to come while Magnus was here. She’s been asking for you.” “She’s awake? I’ll be there soon,” he states, hanging up his phone and getting out of bed. 

———

Drew greets James with his head as he walks through the doors of Y/N’s hospital room. He finds an exhausted-looking Y/N, lying in the bed. A smile paints across her face as soon as he sees her and he is pained by the notion as to why she is here. “Hi,” she rasps out. He joins her at her side, “Hey, how are you feeling?” “As good as you’d expect after being shot. The doctors say I should make a full recovery,” she retells. “I was thinking since my dad knows about us now, that once I’m discharged, we can go on a trip somewhere. Maybe Bali or Italy.” He wants nothing more than to agree. To tell her that he’ll go anywhere with her. Apart from the fact that he came here for another purpose. He doesn’t return her grin and she hunts for it. She yarns for him to return the excitement. “Drew, what’s wrong?” she interrogates, reaching out for a hand he can’t bring himself to give. He knows it will be too hard to let go of. 

“Your dad fired me.”

“I know. I’m not dating you because you work for my dad. I’m dating you because I love you.”

“I was fired because I couldn’t protect you.”

“Drew, it wasn’t your fault. Sean was the one with the gun. He was the one who fired it.”

The chair scrapes against the floor and Drew rushes to the window. His hands slamming against the sill startles her. “You don’t get it,” he yells. “I can’t be with you. You almost died because of me!” Y/N wants to rush to his side, except the stabbing pain in her shoulder stops her. Drew hears her wince and hurries to her side. “What are you saying, Drew? Are you breaking up with me?” she cries, tears pooling in her eyes. He steps away from her, back facing her. He can’t do what he needs to do if she is looking at him. “Yes.” No more words can escape his mouth; he needs to keep his composure. 

“But my heart is yours,” she sobs, trying to hold his hand. Drew needs to get away from her, “Well, you can have it back. I don’t want it anymore.” He hates being cruel, yet it’s the only way this will go faster. “Drew, please. It’s not your fault. Please,” she argues. 

Drew doesn’t have anything left to say and he doesn’t want to force her to be in his presence anymore, so he leaves her behind even though it kills him. It kills him to listen to her weep and not do anything about it. He craves to bring her into his hold and kiss her tears away. She may not believe this is all his fault but it is. It was his flaw that sent her to the hospital. His fatal flaw was thinking he was the only protector she needed. It was his hubris. 

Taglist: @loves0phelia, @f4ll-for-you, @mellillasstuff, @jjsmarijuana

[tony-the-tigers-juicy-armpit]

I know it's not very "masc4masc" to talk about aesthetics but can we in the faggot community please shift away from the college football fraternity themes. I'm not saying they're bad! I'm just saying it's overdone. I'm bored. Talking about you, Brandt's Boys. The least you could do with those copypaste chippendale crackerjacks is give me a plot that isn't "this is what the jocks do in the dorms when nobody's around 😈" and the occasional incest (which barely anyone wants). And by the way, you can play with those camera angles all you like, we can all tell Brandt is short. Not a bad thing, but stop fucking around and let a tall beefy bottom swallow up his shortking dick for some juicy size difference content. And let me get back to themes, because at least some of you are too old to be in college. What are these closeted faggot jocks doing after graduation? Get me some young dads at the barbecue. Or even - an office scene - any college kid in 2023 who's closeted is trying to protect his family's reputation; He's probably getting nepo'd into a cushy adult daycare in Seattle. That's top tier bait for a blackmailing boss. And it's ACAB forever but we can get some 5-0 uniforms in this mothersucker. I'm just saying you could be the next Sean Cody but you wanna fuck around and pretend any of these steroid androids even somewhat recently identified as heterosexual for poppersipping goonpoints.

[moonselune]

Eyooo was wandering if u could do the ladies reacting to a gn Tav using their entire body to shield the women from a fireball blast? Like they hear the spellcaster going for it and they just engulf the ladies in what is essentially a bear hug that fully covers the ladies so they don't get affected by the blast please?

Icl all I thought about whilst writing this was the Sean Paul 'Fireball' song, hence why this came out less angsty lmao

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The battlefield was chaos, a cacophony of clashing steel and arcane energy. Amidst the fray, you spotted the enemy spellcaster, their hands already weaving the intricate patterns of a fireball spell. Your heart lurched as you realized the blast was aimed directly at Karlach, her back turned as she fought off a group of gnolls.

Without a second thought, you surged forward, throwing yourself between Karlach and the impending explosion. Wrapping her in a tight embrace, you used your entire body to shield her from the blast, feeling the heat and force of the fireball scorch your back. The pain was immediate and intense, but you held on, determined to protect her.

As the fireball dissipated, you slumped to the ground, your body charred and smoking. Karlach spun around, her eyes wide with horror and fury.

"Are you out of your mind?" she roared, her voice a mix of anger and concern. "I’m literally fire resistant, you idiot! I'm basically on fire 24/7. Why did you do that?"

You managed a weak smile, your voice barely a whisper. "Couldn't risk it… didn't want you to get hurt."

Karlach knelt beside you, her hands shaking as she tried to assess your injuries. "You're a damn fool," she muttered, her tone softening as she saw the extent of your burns. "But you're my damn fool."

Shadowheart arrived, her face set in a mask of concentration as she began to cast healing spells. Karlach stayed by your side, her anger giving way to a fierce protectiveness.

"You're not doing that again, you hear me?" Karlach said, her voice choked with emotion. "You can't keep risking yourself like this."

Despite the pain, you reached up to touch her cheek. "I'll always protect you, Karlach. Always."

Her eyes softened, and she leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "And I'll always protect you, too. So no more heroics, okay?"

You nodded weakly, comforted by her presence and the knowledge that, and despite your recklessness, Karlach would always be there for you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The din of battle was deafening, and amidst the chaos, you heard the ominous chanting of a fireball spell. Your heart raced as you saw it aimed straight at Minthara. Without hesitation, you sprinted towards her, your body moving on instinct.

"Get down!" you shouted, throwing yourself around her in a protective bear hug.

"What are you—" Minthara began, but her words were cut off as the fireball erupted against your back.

The intense heat seared your flesh, the pain nearly unbearable. You grit your teeth, holding Minthara tightly to shield her from the worst of the blast. The flames licked around you, but you refused to let go until the fire had passed.

When the magic finally dissipated, you crumpled to the ground, your body charred and smoking. Minthara immediately knelt beside you, her eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and worry.

"You fool!" she snapped, her voice trembling. "There was no need for this. I could have taken the hit."

You coughed weakly, managing a small, pained smile. "Couldn't risk it," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Had to protect you."

Minthara's expression softened ever so slightly, but she still looked furious. "You reckless idiot," she muttered, her hands moving to cast a healing spell over you. Divine energy flowed from her fingers, mending your burnt flesh and easing your pain.

As she worked, Minthara glanced over her shoulder and barked, "Shadowheart, tend to Gale. He's likely to get himself killed without supervision."

Shadowheart nodded and moved to attend to Gale, leaving Minthara to focus on you. She continued to channel healing energy, her touch surprisingly gentle.

"You should not have done that," Minthara said quietly, her anger giving way to a more vulnerable tone. "Your life is just as important as mine."

You reached up, your hand trembling, to touch her cheek. "I couldn't let anything happen to you," you murmured. "Not while I could still do something about it."

Minthara sighed, her eyes closing briefly as she leaned into your touch. "You are a stubborn one," she said softly. "But I suppose I cannot fault you for your loyalty."

She finished her healing spell, the light fading as she helped you sit up. "Just promise me you won't throw yourself into danger so recklessly again," she said, her eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of sternness and concern.

"I'll try," you said, knowing full well that it was a promise easier said than done. Minthara shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"You're impossible," she murmured, but there was a warmth in her gaze as she helped you to your feet.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

The battlefield was a chaotic clashing of weapons and arcane spells. Amidst it all, you fought alongside Lae'zel, your heart pounding with the rhythm of combat. Suddenly, a sinister voice rang out from the enemy ranks, casting a familiar and dreaded incantation. Ignis.

Your instincts took over. You saw the spellcaster hurling a bead of intense flame towards your group, its trajectory set to engulf Lae'zel. Without a second thought, you lunged towards her, wrapping your arms around her in a protective embrace. Your larger frame enveloped hers completely, creating a shield with your body.

The explosion was deafening. Heat seared through your clothes, burning your skin, but you held firm, refusing to let go. The pain was a distant sensation compared to your determination to protect Lae'zel. When the flames finally dissipated, you collapsed to the ground, smoke rising from your charred body.Lae'zel disentangled herself from your embrace, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and fury.

"Why did you do that, you fool?" she demanded, her voice trembling despite its harshness. "I am a warrior, stronger and more resilient than you. Sacrificing yourself was unnecessary!"

You managed a weak smile, your voice raspy from the pain. "Lae'zel, I love you… but you need to shut up and go get Shadowheart. Now."

For a moment, she seemed to struggle with her emotions, her grip tightening on her weapon. Then, with a frustrated growl, she nodded and sprinted towards the camp.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

The battle was fierce, with spells and steel clashing in a chaotic dance of death. You and Shadowheart were in the thick of it, fighting side by side against a band of ruthless mercenaries. The enemy, seeing the tide turning against them, began chanting the incantation for a fireball, the air around him crackling with arcane energy.

You heard the familiar and dreaded sound of the spell being prepared and saw the fiery orb forming in the enemy's hands. Your eyes darted to Shadowheart, who was focused on healing an injured companion, her back turned to the imminent danger.

Without a second thought, you launched yourself towards her, engulfing her in a protective embrace. Your arms wrapped around her tightly, and you spun around, placing your body between her and the incoming fireball. The moment seemed to stretch into an eternity as the world around you slowed down.

"What are you—" Shadowheart started to protest, but her words were cut off by the deafening roar of the explosion.

The fireball hit, and the searing heat and force of the blast tore through you. Pain unlike anything you had ever felt surged through your body, but you held on, using every ounce of your strength to shield Shadowheart from the brunt of the attack. The flames licked at your skin, burning and blistering, but you refused to let go. Your only thought was to keep her safe.

When the flames finally subsided, you collapsed to the ground, your body charred and smoking. Shadowheart, unharmed but wide-eyed with shock, immediately pushed herself up and turned to you.

“Y/N!” she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of anger and worry. “What were you thinking? That was so stupid, you idiot!”

You managed a pained smile, your voice weak but filled with determination. “There was no sense in the healer getting hurt,” you croaked. “We need you to keep everyone else alive.”

Shadowheart’s expression softened, though her eyes still blazed with a mix of emotions. She knelt beside you, her hands already glowing with the healing magic of Selûne. “You reckless fool,” she muttered, but there was a tenderness in her tone. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” you replied, wincing as the healing energy began to mend your burns. “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

Her hands moved over your wounds, the light of her healing magic soothing the pain and repairing the damage. She worked quickly and efficiently, but her touch was gentle, almost reverent. “Next time, let me handle the danger,” she scolded, though her voice was soft. “You’re too important to risk like that.”

“I’ll try,” you said with a faint smile, feeling the pain ebb away as her magic did its work. “But no promises. I’d do anything to protect you.”

Shadowheart sighed, a small, reluctant smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re impossible,” she murmured, finishing her healing spell. She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “But I suppose that’s one of the reasons I love you.”

“I love you too, Shadowheart,” you whispered. You reached up, your fingers lightly brushing her cheek, then with a final surge of healing energy, she restored your strength, the burns on your skin fading away.

“There,” she said, helping you to your feet. “Try not to get yourself killed, alright?”

“I’ll do my best,”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

The skirmish was intense, the air thick with the scent of ozone and blood. You fought side by side with Jaheira, her movements a graceful dance of deadly precision. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw an enemy mage chanting, his hands weaving an ominous pattern in the air. One you recognised as 'Fireball'.

Your heart lurched. You knew the spell well and its devastating potential. Without hesitation, you threw yourself towards Jaheira, wrapping her in a bear hug that used your body as a shield. The world exploded in a torrent of flame, pain scorching every nerve ending as you took the full brunt of the blast.

When the flames subsided, you fell to the ground, your body smoking and charred. Jaheira gently extricated herself from your grip, her eyes filled with concern and something deeper.

"Why?" she asked softly, kneeling beside you. "Why would you take such a risk?"

You managed a pained chuckle, wincing at the effort. "Because, Jaheira, your ancient bones are just too flammable."

A spark of amusement flickered in her eyes, though it was tempered by worry. "If you weren't already burnt to a crisp, I would hit you."

You smiled weakly. "Just get Shadowheart. I might not be able to take another one of those for your brittle bones,"

Jaheira squeezed your hand briefly, her expression softening with tenderness. "Stay strong, my dearest," she murmured, before hurrying off to find Shadowheart.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

What do we think about adding Jaheira to the main roster of BG3 ladies, pls lmk because I may start adding her - Seluney xox

[wolvieswhiskeyclaws]

"Savior" ||

Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader

Rating: None

Length: 2.1k

Asked by: @photo1030

Ooo! Random thought, maybe can link to my last request. Reader (or character, your choice) gets hurt and Arthur has to take care of them. Maybe shot in the leg and he has to carry them. They get to see a softer side to him, being all caretaker and protective.

Protective Arthur is just... *chef's kiss* I can't explain it but seeing him so good with a gun, being able to down someone within seconds then to turn around and be so gentle with you?? I need it, crave it, even. Thanks for the ask, hon!~

*

It was supposed to be a simple bank coach robbery, just a quick in-and-out sort of situation, and you insisted that you go along to assist Mary-Beth and Sean, but with Arthur being as worried as he always was, he felt it was best to tag along and make sure Sean didn’t pull you into any other mischief. The Irishman, of course, took offense to that, but he didn’t exactly mind that you two wanted to tag along. The more the merrier, even if the cut of the pay was less.

As much as Arthur tried to insist you remain back, you were headstrong and refused to let him tell you what you were capable of. You’d had a successful string of heists you were able to pull off with the other gang members, so why would this one be any different? Without much argument afterward, you rode off on your horse behind Sean and Mary-Beth, and a disgruntled Arthur followed you all from the rear. 

It was difficult to put into words how this made Arthur feel, but he knew that going along to assist would have eased his discomfort, and hearing Sean’s plan to distract the coach was more than entertainment in itself. But with Sean being inept with firearms, Arthur had ridden alongside your horse to listen in on the plan. 

Mary-Beth was more than excited to get out of the camp and put her talent to good use, and even more so when you had offered to tag along if they wouldn’t mind. “Oh, this is excitin’!” She exclaimed with a large smile on her face. “Easy enough to flag ‘em down, I think.”

Sean was proud of his idea and felt that he should have had more credit, but Arthur, being who he was, was unsure and unimpressed with Sean’s usefulness when it came to stressful situations. 

“I’m just keepin’ an eye on you, MacGuire, I know they’re solid,” he stated matter-of-factly as his horse trotted along to the speed of Ennis. 

“Alright, alright, you get knocked out on a mission one time-”

“More than once,” Arthur corrected. 

The Irishman just scoffed and shook his head. “Look, you can write about it in your journals, but let’s get back to my job, the one I brought y’all in on!” He huffed.

You couldn’t help but laugh at how much those two men were always at each other’s throats, no matter what the other was doing. “Let’s focus, gentleman, the lady and I will have this done lickety-split, it’ll be a cakewalk.” You looked over at Arthur with confidence shining in your eyes, and you thought you caught a glimpse of a smile from across his face, but it was gone before you could blink. 

Sean led the way until they came to a crossroads, then he told you all to keep the horses out of sight as he scoped out where they could hide for the time being. “Alright then, here we are, they’ll be comin’ from the North any minute, you both know what you’re doin’, right?”

Arthur just scoffed and shook his head. “Course they know what they’re doin’,” he replied gruffly.

You jumped down from your horse and patted its muzzle gently. “Mary-Beth is gonna run out and flag ‘em down, I’ll be off a ways to scope out the guards, and you two will be behind the log. Sean will ring off some shots, and Arthur will come in and clean up while I pick ‘em off from behind. Easy.”

Sean looked satisfied with that response and nodded. “Alright, perfect! Now, Morgan, let’s go and get behind this log, you-” he pointed in your direction, “-get over to those trees and don’t be spotted. Mary-Beth, get ready.”

The redhead felt proud of this plan, he was sure everything would work out, and he had the details down to a T. Everything went fine until it didn’t.

Instead of spooking the guards to throw them off, Sean took aim after hearing the way one of the men spoke to Mary-Beth and scoped him from his spot behind the log. Arthur immediately began to fire, albeit reluctantly since Sean was deviating from the initial plan. He hadn’t caught sight of you yet, but he figured you were doing alright for yourself. Then suddenly, a man lunged for Mary-Beth and held a gun to her head, his arm clenched around her throat.

“Let GO of me!” She snapped, trying her best to claw at his arm.

“Got your little lady friend here! Drop your guns!”

Arthur removed his rolling block rifle and watched the man hide himself behind the woman through the scope. “Dammit, he keeps movin’, don’t got a clear shot.”

“I got it!” You suddenly yelled out, and before you had a chance to line up the shot, the man had heard you and took aim. The shot rang out and the bullet penetrated your upper thigh. 

Your scream echoed out and Arthur finally had a clear shot to take the man down for good. “Sean, get Mary-Beth! I got them!” He said as he threw the gun over his shoulder and took off running where you’d fallen to the ground. “Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbled to himself as he finally caught up to you. 

You were trying your best to hold onto your leg the best you could to apply pressure, but it didn’t help much, you couldn’t stifle the scream you released when it hurt a little too much. “Shit, guess I messed that up badly…”

“Nah, you didn’t, lemme see,” Arthur said as he moved your hands, checking out where the wound was. “Ah, right through the meat of the leg but just missed your femoral artery. You’ll be alright, just gotta treat it when we get to camp. C’mon, it ain’t gonna feel pretty.” 

Arthur grabbed his bandana and tied it around your leg the best he could to keep pressure, then he scooped you into his arms and carried you back to his horse. 

Sean and Mary-Beth had cleaned out the coach and the dead men’s pockets as he took care of you, but Mary-Beth felt awful. “Are they gonna be alright?” She asked, her tone laced with worry. 

He just nodded and helped you as carefully as he could onto his horse, but the discomfort was a lot, yet you remained as strong as you could and held onto the horn of the saddle. “Call my horse, please…” You whimpered. “Can’t leave ‘em here…”

“You worry ‘bout yourself, your horse’ll be fine,” the gunslinger assured you as he hopped on behind you. “It’s gonna hurt with the ride but the faster we get back the better. Y’all go on, we’ll split the money when we meet back, don’t let anyone follow you.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Sean said with a meek smile, feeling awful you’d been hurt. “Take care of ‘em, will ya?” 

Arthur nodded in response, whistled for your horse to follow, and rode off as quickly as he could. The ride was definitely painful, but you managed to hold out long enough until you got back to camp, where Arthur had taken you to your tent, which thankfully had some privacy. He left you alone for all of two minutes when he came back with all the necessities he needed to fix you up proper. 

You lay there on your cot, and as you tried to look up at him to speak, all you could do was groan in pain until he placed his hand gently on the back of your neck, having you sit up slightly. “Here, take a shot of whiskey, it’ll help a bit. I gotta dig the bullet out and cauterize the wound.”

After hearing all that and swallowing the burning liquid, your consciousness was in and out, very hazy, until you saw black and just heard the sound of Arthur’s voice. 

Hours later, you awoke with a dry hoarseness in your throat, your eyes blinked rapidly to adjust to the low lamplight that had been inside your tent, and you looked up to see Arthur beside your cot. He already reached for the deerskin and placed it to your lips. You drank greedily at the water until you felt satisfied enough to pull away, coughing from the coldness. 

“There you are,” Arthur greeted softly, removing the deerskin from your grasp. “You’re gonna be fine, just gotta stay off the leg for a while,” he commented. “You feelin’ alright?” He leaned over and dunked a cloth into a bucket of water, then wring it out, and placed it gently over your forehead. 

You looked over at him and smiled softly. “Didn’t know you were so caring,” you joked softly, chuckling to yourself. 

Arthur waved his hand dismissively and scoffed. “Had my fair share of bullets is all, makin’ sure you don’t pull a stunt like that again, you hear?” 

You nodded and a small smile crept across your face, you couldn’t help but stare up at him and admire the man. He acted as if he didn’t care much about others, that he wasn’t any better than a stone-cold killer, but here he was worrying about you and taking care of you. Usually, it was left up to one of the women who were more well-versed in bedside manner, like Miss Grimshaw, but Arthur had insisted on your behalf. Naturally, he didn’t tell you this, it was Mary-Beth who informed you when she came in to visit while Arthur had gone to refill the bucket and grab some more medical supplies from Strauss’s wagon.

“Oh it’s been real sweet, he ain’t left unless he needed to get somethin’ for you,” Mary-Beth beamed. “Almost like somethin’ straight out of one of my books, he’s been real particular, too.”

“Of what?” You questioned.

“He hasn’t let anyone other than me and Tilly into your tent, even was on edge when Charles offered to help.” 

This information made your cheeks feel warm, he was practically babying you back to health, you’d never seen this side of him before. “Wow, I would have never expected Arthur Morgan to be at my bed-side,” you teased as you looked up at the young woman. 

She nodded, still all smiles. “Well, I hear him comin’ so that’s my cue, better leave you to it or else he’ll kick me out,” she joked and stood up from the chair. “You feel better, and holler if you need anythin’ from us.”

“Thanks, Mary-Beth.”

She nodded her head and left the tent, then was quickly replaced by Arthur, who set the bucket down beside his chair and had a bowl of stew in the other hand. “You think you can eat yet?”

You hummed in response and wet your dry lips with your tongue. “I can try if it’ll make you feel better.”

“It would, now here,” he offered as he slowly placed his hand beneath your shoulders, giving you a little push to help you sit up.

“Heard you’ve been fussin’ over me since we got back, that true?”

Arthur sighed, knowing damn well Mary-Beth was going to say something to you at some point. “It ain’t a big deal, no big drama,” he waved it off. “Just makin’ sure you’re gonna be okay, which you are, by the way.” He held the bowl until you were ready to take it and try to feed yourself, but still leaned forward in case he needed to grab it from you. “Just rest up and you’ll be right as rain soon enough.” You grabbed the bowl and smiled over at Arthur, the adoration in your eyes quite apparent. “Arthur… thank you, I know you’re gonna think it’s no big deal, but it is to me. Couldn’t have made it without you,” you remarked. “I owe you-”

“You don’t owe me nothin’, well, except maybe one thing.”

Your head perked up and you offered him a smile. “Anything.”

With that, his mouth curled into a wide smile, thoughts running through his head as if he could have said so many things, but those thoughts would be shared later. For now, he figured he should settle on the obvious. “Promise me next time you ain’t gonna go runnin’ with MacGuire, you need a job done, you ask me.” He sat back in the chair and offered a lopsided grin. 

Thankfully you didn’t bring the spoon up to your mouth; you’d laughed and almost dropped the bowl. “Sure thing, Arthur, anything for you.” Your eyes locked with his and you couldn’t help but feel like you owed him more than that, but for now, you owed him to get better and listen for once. You’d show him how grateful you were when you could use your leg again. 

“Hey, Arthur?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks again,” you said softly. 

The man just chuckled and lit up a cigarette after getting your permission. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXIII)

Chapter 23 : ‘Even the dearest that I loved the best are strange – nay, rather, stranger than the rest’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! One of my favs, to be honest, it’s one of the first chapters I wrote for this fic, so it had a special place in my heart.

Also, Saoirse and Sean are back! I’m also making a reference to a documentary in this chapter, I was thinking about Brainwashed directed by Nina Menkes, you can check it out if you’d like!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3694

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

I am

I am—yet what I am none cares or knows; My friends forsake me like a memory lost: I am the self-consumer of my woes— They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes And yet I am, and live—like vapours tossed

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life or joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems; Even the dearest that I loved the best Are strange—nay, rather, stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where man hath never trod A place where woman never smiled or wept There to abide with my Creator, God, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept, Untroubling and untroubled where I lie The grass below—above the vaulted sky.

John Clare

Andrew was fucking panicking.

Bloody panicking.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and it had to be useful at one point to have an older brother… right?

Andrew would never admit that he needed reassurance, that he needed guidance, a protective figure to pat him on the back and tell him what to do next, and that it was the reason why he had driven to his brother’s on that Monday night. Of course not. Jon was his brother after all. Andrew would never admit any of that out loud, even if it were true.

The hike had happened the day before, that moment he had realised he was falling in love with you. That he was in love with you.

Bloody hell…

“So, let me get this clear…” Jon spoke with his elbows resting on his knees, bent over and leaning towards Andrew, struggling to gather his thoughts. “You thought you were still in love with Sam. Who left you for your colleague’s ex. And you thought ‘hey, what dumb idea could I bring to the table today’ and it led you to try to get back with the woman who cheated on you…”

“She didn’t cheat on me, she left me before she got with Frank.”

“How do you know that? Did you ask her?”

“Frank told Y/N he broke up with her before anything happened with Sam.”

“And she dumped you two weeks after he dumped her. You don’t know what happened.”

Andrew felt a lump creeping up his throat again, and he averted his gaze, rubbing roughly at his collarbone.

“Anyway, let’s move on…” Jon brushed the argument away with a quick gesture of the hand. “You tried to get back with Sam and to help Y/N get back with Frank… and then you fell in love with Y/N. Your colleague. Whom you share an office with.”

“I mean… yeah, kind of… I guess…”

Jon buried his face in his hands.

“I swear to God, Andy… it looks like you purposefully want to ruin your own life.”

“I can’t control the way I feel, Jon!”

“This is madness! She’s in love with her ex!”

“I know!”

Andrew’s voice was shaking more than he wanted it to. Jon looked up at him, reading him like an open book, and Andrew hated it.

“I know, okay?!” Andrew went on, voice still shaking while his throat tightened. “I know! I know I’ve fucked up everything with Sam! I know she got better than me! I know I’ve never stood a chance at getting her back! And I know Y/N is too good for me! I know we’re colleagues and that would complicate everything! And I know, I fuck… fucking know that she’s in love with someone else! I know! I know but I don’t know how to fix this! So can you, for once, be useful and tell me what to do now? Cause… I… I don’t know… Jon, I don’t know…”

God, Andrew hated himself for breaking in front of his brother, for letting the tears escape, but he couldn’t help it. This was too much. He simply couldn’t handle this…

Before he could add anything, Jon had stood up from his armchair and was sitting next to his brother on his couch. He didn’t say a word as he pulled him into a hug.

“Come on, Andy… it’s gonna be fine. You’ll be just fine.”

“Christ… I’m so fucking lost… I don’t know what to do Jon…”

“Do you truly love her? Y/N? Or is she just a rebound.”

“I don’t know…”

He was lying. Of course, Andrew was lying, because he couldn’t say it out loud, how could he? He couldn’t say it to himself… he couldn’t feel like that again…

“Say it. Say it out loud.”

Jon would get it out of him, and Andrew knew that he needed to let it out, to embrace the feeling, but it was so painful… pulling on a knife stuck in a bleeding wound…

“Andy… say it. Answer me.”

Andrew closed his eyes, resting his cheek on his brother’s shoulder, looking across the room. There were posters in black and white of old movies on each wall, and across from Andrew, James Dean was staring at him, a cigarette in his mouth. And Andrew stared at those eyes in black and white, and they stared back. Unwavering. Immortalised on paper and ink. Young, free, rebellious, without a cause…

“I love her,” Andrew whispered. “I love her, Jon. I’m falling more and more every time I see her.”

“Is it serious? Or just a crush?”

Andrew shrugged.

“I’m in love. I feel… like I could love her more than I’ve ever loved Sam… How can I feel like that? I thought Sam was the one! I thought we would stay together, I… I thought about marrying her at one point!”

“She wasn’t good for you, Andy.”

“You sound like mom. And dad.”

“When were they ever wrong? About anything?”

Andrew sniffed, knowing damn well the answer, refusing to admit it.

“She was nice enough,” Jon conceded. “She was smart, beautiful, successful… but she didn’t care enough, Andy. She didn’t care enough about you. She was selfish, in her way of loving you. You deserve better than that.”

Andrew pondered these words, wanted to believe them, couldn’t…

“What do I do now? It’s a mess…”

“Yeah, it’s messy… But you’ll be fine. You need to do whatever makes you happy.”

“What a shitty answer. Did you find it in a bloody fortune cookie or something?”

“Do you still want to be with Sam?”

Andrew took a moment to think.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so… I don’t know…”

“Do you want to be with Y/N?”

“She doesn’t want that…”

“That was not my question.”

Andrew struggled to swallow, but nodded.

“Yeah… yeah, I want her.”

“Then, love her. Maybe, with a bit of time, she’ll love you too.”

“What do I do to make her love me?”

But Jon chuckled.

“I’m single, remember? How am I supposed to know that?”

Valid point. But Andrew reckoned that he could at least try. He could find the things you didn’t like, he could change… maybe… be better for you…

There was silence for a moment, Andrew sniffed, looking at James Dean still. It was raining outside, as per usual. On the windowpane close to the poster, raindrops formed lines that turned the world into a blur. Dublin was but rough shapes and patches of brown, grey and white.

“How did you realise?”

“What?” Andrew croaked.

“That you love Y/N.”

“I won’t tell you. You’re gonna laugh at me.”

“I won’t laugh. You’re crying.”

“Like that has ever stopped you before!”

“Come on, I know you’re truly upset, I won’t take the piss. Tell me.”

Andrew heaved a sigh.

“We went hiking yesterday. And the day was so great, she was so funny… and then we took a break and she had brought snacks, and… she had all my favourites. Like… it was so fucking sweet…”

Jon started chuckling.

“She brought you snacks, and you fell for her?”

“You don’t understand.”

Andrew broke their hold, got up in a jolt. He was rubbing at his collarbone again.

“She… she did that for me. And she… she knows me… like… she knew what I liked. That’s… I don’t know how to explain it. I felt so… understood… like… Like I wasn’t on my own for a moment, you know? Like there was actually someone who cared enough about me to go through all the trouble of learning what I like and showing it… just to make me happy. Like…”

Andrew heaved a sigh.

“Anyway… I knew you’d laugh at me.”

“If I give you a cracker, will you declare your undying love for me?”

“Fuck off!”

Before he could tell his brother another insult, Jon was throwing a cushion at his head, making Andrew huff as he lost his balance for a second.

He was laughing again as he picked up the cushion and threw it back.

But that didn’t answer his question.

What would Andrew do now?

When he eventually got home, he wasn’t sleepy at all. Instead of going to bed, he scrolled aimlessly on his phone, wasting his time on social media. Once he had enough of it, he decided to organise his photos on his phone. He put them into files, kept some messily saved without any home.

And then he reached the pictures he had taken the previous day, of your hike. Landscape, trees, clouds, and you… you standing on top of that hill, while the world laid at you feet. Your red scarf, Elwood sitting by your feet. Your beanie, your warm coat. You were a silhouette on this picture, and yet he loved it, loved that feeling that you were towering over the world. His world.

He pressed his thumb on his screen a few times, and then admired his work. When he unlocked his phone again, instead of seeing Sam’s smiling face, he was seeing your frame among the Wicklow Hills.

He heaved a sigh.

What would Andrew do now?

Saoirse was fucking panicking.

Bloody panicking.

Essays were piling up and it was a bloody nightmare. A FUCKING NIGHTMARE.

She was going to fail. She was going to fail all of her exams, and especially the one about 20th century literature, because… who the fuck was mad enough to make a class about the fucking modernist avant-garde, huh?

Professor Hozier-Byrne was, of course. Of bloody course. It had to be the nicest of them too, and the hottest, and the one who actually gave two fucks about his students… which meant that she couldn’t even be mad at him and curse at him for the suffering she was enduring as she struggled with this James Joyce novel… For Christ’s sake…

She heaved a painful sigh, hitting repeatedly her head against her table. Sean merely laughed at her.

“Come on, it’s not that bad.”

“It is that bad. It is worse. It is DEATH! I don’t understand a bloody thing about that fucking novel.”

“It could be worse, we could be studying Ulysses, it’s only The portrait.”

“Yes, and I could catch the plague and meet my certain death, but I can still die if I catch pneumonia.”

“You’re exaggerating. Wait until we switch to Beckett. And apparently we’re gonna study The Third Policeman as well…”

She let out a long moan, faking a sob, her forehead pressed to the table, where her notes and books were scattered. She looked up at her computer screen.

“As if Woolfe was not enough already… Please… kill me… death will be a sweeter fate than this torture…”

She didn’t notice the way Sean smiled, with something tender tugging at his lips. But he did. He did, because warmth was spreading across his chest at her antiques, and he thought about how adorable she looked like this, being silly while studying and being ten times smarter than him.

“I’ll help you with that essay if you give me a hand with Y/L/N’s… Oscar Wilde is kicking my arse.”

“Ha! That I understand!” she sat up, happy again, and speaking a little too loudly in the busy but quiet library.

She mouthed a silent sorry as a couple of students glared at her.

“Y/L/N’s class is so much easier to me,” she went on. “I can’t with this bloody… stream of consciousness and whatnot.”

Sean was about to answer when he noticed that Saoirse wasn’t listening anymore, looking over his shoulder.

“What…?” he made a movement to turn around, but the girl stopped him with a hiss, reaching across the table to grab his forearm, and the contact dazzled him too much to allow him to move again.

“H-B and Y/L/N are right behind you.”

“And?”

“And… I want to listen on their conversation, obviously. Don’t you want to know the tea?”

He rolled his eyes, but focused to catch their words too anyway.

“Mr. Darcy? The Jane Austen character? Really?” Andrew said in a whisper, clearly unimpressed. “You’re saying that the perfect man, the fictional character that sets unreachable standards… is a guy from the 19th century? That’s not very modern of you…”

You turned around, eyeing him up and down in a judgemental way.

He was following you across the library, the book he wanted to borrow tucked under his arm. He didn’t need to go through the 19th century section, he wasn’t working on that. But you did. So, Andrew followed you around, just to keep you close for a moment, just to keep talking to you for a little longer than your impromptu encounter in the hall of the library about fifteen minutes ago, when you entered and he was about to reach the counter to borrow his book. You didn’t know that though. He had pretended that he had another book to look for but had asked for help. You had believed him, of course, why wouldn’t you?

And now you were giving him a lecture on the female gaze in literature, apparently…

“Mr. Darcy is the perfect example of the use of the female gaze, as opposed to the male gaze.”

“I mean… he’s kind of a jerk at the beginning. He fixes his mistakes, but he started as a gobshite.”

But you shook your head, scanning the shelf while you kept on talking.

“But that’s the point. He fixes his mistakes thinking it will change nothing. He doesn’t improve and changes because he thinks it’s going to lead to Elizabeth loving him. He changes because she makes him see how much of a jerk he can be, how he acted from only his point of view, without taking her into account. And her rejection makes him reevaluate his decisions. He fixes things because he realises he hurt her and those she loved, but his intention is not bound to have what he wants, only to stop her suffering. Female gaze, versus male gaze. And that is, obviously, without mentioning the treatment of female characters in Austen’s novels. Characters with minds, and feelings, and wants, and wills… who make mistakes, and take decisions. Instead of a passive vessel under a male gaze, either to project a want, a longing, lust, love, fear, morals… ”

You were expecting Andrew to argue, because men always did. No matter your degree, and your expertise on the female gaze, on this very question, they always did.

Female gaze versus male gaze. Bloody misogyny…

But Andrew merely stared at you, and you could see in his slight frown that his brain was working at full speed. And when he spoke, it was to ask a new question, not contradict you.

“So… the fact that Darcy acts in a self-sacrificing way is what defines the female take on a character of his type?”

There was no judgement in his question, you were surprised by it.

“You can put it like that. It’s more… the fact that after being rejected for good, he steps back. Yes, you can see it as something like sacrifice, or genuine altruism or compassion. He still loves her, but he understands that she doesn’t, and instead of showing off and trying to make her change her mind, he steps back, accepts it, and reassesses his choices accordingly, without the occasion of winning her heart by doing so. He fixes his mistakes and keeps on protecting her because he loves her, not because he can get her back that way.”

Slowly, Andrew nodded.

“I think I get it. And that’s… unreachable for any real man for you?”

His tone was less serious again, drawing the conversation towards something less theoretical. You scoffed.

“Well, I haven’t found a counter-example yet.”

Andrew seemed to hesitate before speaking again, but he couldn’t hold back his question.

“Do you think Frank would have failed that test? That he would have disappointed you in that situation?”

You scoffed again.

“Like he hasn’t already disappointed me…”

You heaved a sigh, picking up a book and checking the summary on the back.

“Anyway, it’s alright. That’s why Mr. Darcy is fictional.”

Andrew gave you a smile, nodding and deciding to stir the conversation away from Frank again. It was making his heart ache a little too much…

“I saw yesterday that there is a documentary on TV on Sunday afternoon, about the male gaze in cinema. It seems very interesting. Would you like to watch it with me? I could cook us lunch too.”

You looked at him, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah, I… I saw that but… you want to watch that?”

He frowned a little, tilting his head, puzzled by your surprise.

“Yeah, totally. It seems to be very interesting. And… I mean… you’re literally an expert on the subject, even if you’re specialised in literature rather than cinema… So, it would be nice to have your input on that.”

You blinked, still surprised.

“I… yeah… yeah, that would be great.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Andrew chuckled to hide his burning cheeks. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No! That’s… surprising, that’s all.”

“How so?”

“You… never mind.”

“No, tell me. How is it surprising? I think your research is very interesting, and very much needed. I… I genuinely want to hear your take on this.”

“That’s…” you heaved a sigh, but gave him an earnest answer. “It’s just that… coming from a man, it’s pretty surprising.”

His face fell.

“Oh… I see.”

“Misogyny in the academic world is more common than feminism…”

“Yeah… yeah, I understand. I get it.”

“It’s just… usually men try to pretend that they are the expert on the subject I study for a living. So… that was impressive enough to hear you recognise that I’m the expert here. But then you’re even curious about women’s point of view… yeah, surprising, to say the least. I shouldn’t react like that though. I know you’re a feminist, I’m sorry. It’s just… a biased reflex.”

“I’m sorry you have to go through that. What a band of fucking pricks…”

You raised a surprised eyebrow again.

“Wow… he can curse like an actual sailor!”

Andrew rolled his eyes at your teasing, an amused smile on his lips still forming.

“Right… so, are you coming over on Sunday? Or am I making you work extra-hours and you’d rather just sleep and eat your weight in ice-cream?”

“I’ll come. And if you’re nice to me, I’ll even bring dessert.”

“Deal. Can’t wait.”

You opened your mouth to speak again, your eyes glimmering happily, but Andrew shut you down.

“No, you can’t buy a new toy for Elwood! My dog will end up loving you more than he loves me.”

“That has been my devilish plan from the beginning.”

You tucked the book you had been looking at under your arm.

“Okay, I’m all set.”

But Andrew had one more question, another one that he hesitated to ask, but he took the risk anyway, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck as he spoke again.

“Y/N?”

You turned to him again, silently inviting him to continue.

“If you were Elizabeth, and Frank was Mr. Darcy, what would you ask him to change for you?”

You blinked, surprised at his question, and you pondered on his words for a moment. But your answer was still earnest.

“Not breaking my heart.”

“Fair enough,” he smiled.

“And just… I don’t know… to…”

You hesitated, but answered anyway.

“To ask me about my day. I would have really liked it if he had asked about my days when we were together.”

You exchanged a sad smile. And Andrew spoke his next question the final one, the most important one too, the one that made him truly scared of your answer.

“And if you were Elizabeth, and I was Mr. Darcy… what would I need to change?”

You frowned at his question, and opened your mouth to answer, before closing it again.

“I… I don’t know. Honestly, I… I don’t know. I can’t really think about anything. I mean… you were never a jerk to begin with, so…” you added with a warm smile.

And at first, he smiled back, but then you turned around and he clenched his jaw. He tightened his hold on his book as you moved along the shelf. He couldn’t help the longing in his eyes.

Despite that answer, despite having nothing to change in him at first sight… you still wanted Frank, instead of him… God, he wished you could have told him what was wrong with him. What had made him unworthy of Samantha, but most importantly… what made him unworthy of you.

Andrew heaved a sigh, followed you with his head and shoulders bent, and he tried to hide his feelings when you turned around again, stirring up a new topic of conversation while you exited the room.

Meanwhile, Saoirse and Sean had listened to the conversation. When she focused on him again, Saoirse grabbed both of his arms and energetically shook him, shouting in a whisper.

“OH. MY. GOD!” she whispered, her voice made raspy by the cry she was refraining. “DID YOU HEAR THAT?! DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

“Huh… yeah, they… were… talking…”

“Talking? TALKING?! Sean! THEY ARE IN FUCKING LOVE! H-B is at least. HEAD OVER HEELS! Did you not see that longing in his eyes when she answered? AND THAT FUCKING QUESTION?! WHO ASKS QUESTIONS LIKE THAT?! WHO IS READY TO CHANGE FOR THE WOMAN HE IS FUCKING PINNING OVER?!”

“God’s sake, stop shaking me!”

She let go of him, out of breath.

“Oh my God, they are so CUTE! Do you think they will end up together? I hope so, they seem so cute! They would be so cute! And they’re both so nice, they totally would make each other happy! I hope he’ll make her change her mind, cause the girl seems fucking oblivious…”

“Don’t you think that you’re… overreacting? Overreading into this?”

She rolled her eyes, slapping her palm against her forehead.

“Men are so fucking stupid,” she complained.

Truer words were rarely spoken…