#i would need to beam the vibes straight into your brain

[raspberrylover28]

Titan will LITERALLY become "the middle earth".

Like, once the Sun becomes a red giant, Saturn will not only be the middle planet of the system, but his orbit will be in the new goldilocks zone. That means Titan's orbit will also be in said zone, which sounds GREAT until you think about it.

Because what if humanity is still around by that time? I severely doubt that after billions of years they still haven't tried colonizing Titan. Once the Sun becomes big enough, even terraformed Mars would be EXTREMELY close to the star and the heat would most likely force the earthlings to abandon Mars's surface entirely. Unless they came up with some insane, sci-fi technology, but let's assume that even if they do, the heat would be unbearable. Plus, by that point Mars could have already been polluted to hell and back, so the earthlings would have to look for a new home either way.

I don't think the earthlings would see Titan as their only option. Jupiter's orbit would also be in the goldilocks zone, even if it was on the warmer side, so Ganymede and Europa could also be good options. Other moons could also become habitable, who knows! But I feel like Titan would be THE earthling colony.

And I don't think Titan would like that.

He wouldn't push the earthlings away, of course not. They're in need of a shelter (AKA a celestial body) in order to survive and Titan is their best option. Plus, Titan might even have a bit of a soft spot for humanity at that point in time, since they're Earth's life and Earth isn't around anymore. Plus, it was an earthling astronaut that discovered life on Titan's surface, even if said astronaut was forced to do it. Titan has to lend them his surface, it's the right thing to do.

But Titan has life too, doesn't he? And a few billion years is more than enough time for it to evolve, become sentient, even! But Titan won't be able to see it grow and shape it's own identity. The earthlings will be there, and they will leave their mark deeply. Sure, maybe Titan's life will develop it's own languages, cultures, holidays, even religions. But in the end, the similarities with the earthling culture would be so obvious that Titan's natives might as well be an earthling country, and not a whole other species. He will become "the middle earth" even to the creatures that crawled out of his oceans. It would be hard not to feel bitter.

To celestial objects, he was Saturn's favorite moon. To the life forms, he's a replacement for Earth. He's always in someone's shadow, nothing is his.

And I feel like he wants something that is his. I think that's why he wanted to start the moon strike in the first place. He wanted to show that he's more than the people around him, that he is strong and kind and compassionate. So people think about him as the leader of the moon revolution, the president of the moon club, the first moon to develop life. So people look up to him.

He constatly acts like he's the morally superior one that does no wrong, it's why he villainizes Ganymede and Europa in the moon club arc. Now that people are looking at him and not his titles, he wants them to see him as his best self. He's not pretending to be a good person, either! He genuinly wants to help people because that's the right thing to do.

But maybe, when millions, if not billions of earthlings are crammed on his surface like sardines, drilling and exploiting and ripping him open, Titan would wonder if it was all worth it.

[destructivisms]

Thank you for letting me submit a ship request!!!! 🩷💗💕

My name is Enna and I'm a bi girl with blue/pink/purple hair, blue eyes, freckles, and im covered in tattoos!!! I love reading and writing (like so much lol), I bake, swim and listen to all genres of music (and sing along horribly!). I'm in school studying to be an English teacher and I'd love to be a writer on the side. I'm really shy and quiet, I try to be as kind as possible, though I come off sarcastic/use sarcasm as flirting. I try to be as optimistic as possible too. I adore horror movies and carry at least two books with me wherever I go. I love horror and dystopians the most, but any genre can catch my eye! My three favorite books are The Handmaid's Tale, A Little Life, and The Book Thief, but I could name every book on my shelf lol!!! I could go on forever about my favorites. The beach is my happy place and I hope to move closer to the ocean after I graduate!! I love studying languages and am trying to learn as many as possible (I speak three and im studying two more). I live for poetry tho I am awful as writing it. I love Russian poetry especially and try to read it in it's original language, but my Russian still needs work. I'm a Ravenclaw and my intelligence is really important to me :) I love learning so much, I have such a great passion for it!!!

Thank you, thank you, thank you!!! 🩷💗💕

thank you so much for sending this!! fellow language enthusiast here, you seem super cool and i hope you enjoy the ship :)

I ship you with...

HUGHIE CAMPBELL!

ok incredibly biased because of the url but. hear me out. you guys are the cutest

You meet in the subway, as cliché as it sounds — you're taking the train to spend a sunny day in Rockaway Beach, and it's a long ride, so of course you're immersed in a good old book. You don't even notice the guy sitting across from you... Or how he's been throwing glances at you since he got in and saw you there.

As people come and go — and both of you are still there, it's a fairly long ride —, he's debating whether or not he should say something. Would he be intruding? Would it be friendly? Would it be weird? You seem so chill and unbothered, and he'd hate to piss you off by interrupting your reading, but he's just entranced by your entire vibe. You're so cool. You're sooo cool. Incredibly cute. The sun coming through the window shines a beam of light on your hair and he thinks he's gonna die. There's an energy, a lot of life to you, and that really draws him in.

As the train gets emptier, he ultimately decides on saying something — who knows when you're getting off the train and he loses his chance forever? And as much as he kept running lines in his head thinking what he'd ask, his brain just short-circuits and in classic Hughie fashion he goes with the first thought in his head: "Hey, that's a really good book."

Important: he had never heard of that book in his entire life

Still, it's enough to get your attention and a smile — what's the harm in earnest conversation? Of course, it's the New York subway, but he seems like a nice guy, you're not in a rush nor feeling uncomfortable, and you like to talk about your interests (it really is a really good book). He does confess he hadn't read it before the lie goes too far (knowing his habitual cover-ups, it could have gotten disastrous), but you two are so deep in such a good conversation you actually find it funny and sweet.

He gets off the train before you and thus the conversation is cut short, but you give him your number. It's a meet cute straight out of a movie and you make his day — I imagine you meet around early season 2, when they're in the hideout, and daily life is rough for The Boys. That conversation with you was a beam of light.

He texts you the day after, polite and casual with a joke in there — something along the lines of "Hey, I'm Hughie, the guy in the subway — if you didn't think I'm a lying idiot, would you be interested in grabbing coffee?"

He absolutely read this one text out loud and rewrote it several times to find the optimal way to not sound weird while asking you out

And that's the start of a series of texts and dates between you two

You two have so many deep conversations over text, stay up chatting about yourselves and your interests, send cute pictures of things that remind you of each other.

Hughie is the type of guy to wait for a message and either reply to it almost immediately or mentally put it off to not seem like he replied immediately. That, of course, when he sees the message, and is preferably not too busy with not dying.

He finds the many heart emojis incredibly endearing 💜 Not a big emoji guy, but adds smiley faces to the end of sentences :) and if you use WhatsApp he'd use A LOT of stickers. Corny hearts, cute animals, funny expressions, typical millennial memes, he saves them all.

Your contact goes from "Enna :)" to "Enna ❤️" as the relationship progresses

You talk mostly over text, because of your studies and his weird schedule with the coup's plans — and you don't really know what he does at that point —, so all of your dates are planned meets. You plan to meet at a coffee shop, you plan to spend the day at the beach, you plan to go to a record store. Everything scheduled (even though he's not the most on-time person, your dates are the very opposite of spontaneous). Hughie's very much a "by the book" type of guy when it comes to dating, he wants to do everything right and neat.

And so, after a month or two of going out, he officially asks you to be his girlfriend by giving you a copy of your favorite book with his annotations (he read it!).

See, Hughie is the typical guy who lost the reading habit because life happens, but meeting you motivated him to get back to reading. In the first dates he'd casually get a recommendation like it was small talk, until he mentioned a couple days later he was actually reading it. Never failed to make you melt.

He did not finish A Little Life though, didn't get through the first chapters without bawling his eyes out and feeling like shit and realized maybe he should skip that one.

You two share so much media — movies, books, music! He absolutely doesn't mind your singing, in fact he loves singing along to stuff with you. Expect so many car sing-alongs and playing music in the kitchen while you're cooking.

And I hope you like Billy Joel, because he will play it so much you'll inevitably know the lyrics. He'll warm up to your music too, but he's usually quicker than you to put on his playlist and you're not really complaining.

You try to show him horror movies but he bails after the first scare. He's already too horrified by the stuff happening in his life, he doesn't want to be horrified by the screen too. If you really, really insist, just this once, as a gift, for you, come on, he'll watch it on edge and stressed for the entire thing. Will hold onto you for dear life and scream out loud. "We had fun, right?" gf X "I've never been more stressed my entire life" bf.

He loves your hair so much — if you change it often, it becomes a thing for him to guess the next color before you go and dye it. He always comments on it, and has a personal ranking of his favorite Enna hair eras (like, seriously elaborated, which he could make a slide presentation on if prompted).

I do remember you mentioning you're very short so that's a funny add-on — this man is a giraffe, and now your personal crane. Will grab things on the top shelf for you all the time, especially books you want.

He's definitely the big spoon, and loves cuddling and hugging. Only in private though, like at home, he's kind of awkward with PDA. But he will hug you from behind when you're baking, wrap his arms over your shoulders, and oh I'm sorry I guess you have to stop whatever you're doing to give attention to your Big Friendly Giant of a boyfriend. No the brownies aren't burning.

The breakfast table is yap central. He grew up silently eating with his dad, not much happening there, but now he actively makes the choice to always ask you about random topics over breakfast or lunch. You're creating new traditions — the table around a meal is lively and a place for conversation, in which you feel safe to ramble about whatever topics you're interested in to each other.

You do explain to him about all the languages you're learning — Hughie's not particularly a language guy, but he's a passion guy and a you guy, so he becomes fascinated by your studies. You start sporadically bringing a book in another language to breakfast to read something aloud. He loves to hear the sound of your voice in any language.

It's interesting how much of a rambler he is, while at the same time keeping his life really private. Like, you know everything about every movie he's ever seen; he explains every record he likes that you might come across in a store; he'll talk about his passions and dreams and insecurities, talk about his dad and his problems with his mom... But you still don't know what the hell he does for work. Or any of his friends.

He does try to keep The Boys' work a secret for as long as possible; he feels awful for lying to you sometimes, being evasive, or giving vague answers, but he wants to protect you. So much. He wouldn't want to risk losing someone else he cared about; losing you. Your passion, kindness, optimism have saved him in so many bad days, in so many ways you didn't even know, and are so rare to maintain in the world he's in.

This light and energy that drew him to you is, in some way, the same thing that drew him to Robin (and, in the canon, Annie).

Secrets aren't kept forever, eventually he does tell you about the real nature of his work and the crew he surrounds himself with.

You don't really get involved in the work, you're not a part of THE BOYS, but you're Hughie's girl and they all know you. They have heard oh so much about you. Let's be honest they're nosy bitches — they'd be dying to know anything and everything about you from the moment Hughie offhandedly mentioned he had a date.

You guys were barely official and Frenchie said he wanted to be invited to the wedding

Hughie is the No. 1 supporter of your baked goods, and he starts bringing them to the office. They're all immediately hooked.

They tease him pretty much all the time — it's awww when you have a cute couple moment, crude jokes from Butcher (in good spirit, you respond with sarcasm and he respects you that way), a cacophony of noises and some "TELL HER I SAID HI" in the background of most phone calls —, but at the end of the day they're incredibly happy for you two. It's a breath of fresh air in their chaotic lifestyle that someone has something sweet in their life and a sense of normality. You're a beam of light. :)

[messrmoonyy]

Can we have a snippet of the Helen fic pleasseeee messr

Just a short one 🫡 lotsss of deep diving into Helen’s head in this one shot fr. Like. It’s so fun thinking about her emotions and how she feels and thinks.

As I said when I first began discussing this, she may be a little ooc simply because this is a canonically straight woman, with a female reader. But we vibe.

Helen Norville, kisser of women 🙌🏻 also not proofread.

“ you don’t have to do anything “ you murmured, tone so unbelievably gentle that she didn’t quite know how to take it. Your fingers grazed along the lines of her face, across her eyebrow and along her cheekbone. Her lips and her jaw. You were like a sculptor mapping a marble statue “ let me take care of you”

Though she were no goddess carved in stone.

“ that doesn’t seem very fair “ you shrugged, leaning down to kiss her again. The soft, lingering kind. The kind where her lips were captured for what felt like an eternity. Not wanting to be let go.

“ I think you deserve a little care don’t you? “ your breath was warm against her lips but it still made her shiver slightly. Too many new emotions were battling inside her head. Too many things that she didn’t understand. Too many thoughts on why was she feeling this way? Why was she doing this?

But she figured now was not the time nor place to be figuring that out. That would come later. Tomorrow. That would come when she was alone again and left alone with her thoughts. Maybe it would be one of those nights where she would need to keep the television on until morning. Just to fill the silence. To fill the open opportunities for her brain to being its assault.

“ it’s been a long time since someone touched you like they actually cared hasn’t it? “ how could you tell? How had she known you such a short amount of time and yet you seemed to be able to read her like she were an open book in a library.

She pondered on the question. And maybe the fact that she did have to think about it was answer enough in itself. She wasn’t sure if Dale cared. If she were an open book Dale was a book under lock and key. She didn’t know what he felt. What was real and what was facade. She didn’t know if she ever would either.

And as for Charlie?

Charlie didn’t touch her like he cared. Because he didn’t. In fact Charlie had never even cared whether she finished or not. Once he was done it was over. Charlie touched her like a man using her for his own gain. And like a man who so clearly looked at her as a… trophy.

Some shiny thing to place on his shelf for all to see. For he had cracked the mighty Helen Norville.

You didn’t look at her like that. You were looking at her as if she were the most beautiful woman alive. As if she truly were that goddess carved in stone.

She found she didn’t know how to answer you. And it annoyed her at how tongue tied you seemed to make her. It was her skill, her job practically, to know what to say at all times. To improvise. To smile and carry on.

But she didn’t feel like that person there with you. Not the big haired beaming smiling woman in front of a camera. Not the Helen that Australia knew. She wasn’t Helen the reporter. The journalist. The fucking game show girl.

She was just… Helen.

And so instead of answering you with words that were evading her, she simply lifted her head a little. Brushed her nose to yours and kissed you again.

[sxdmoonchxld]

Operation: Pop The Cherry | JJK

Jungkook x Virgin!Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: rough bathroom sex, college au, unprotected sex, teasing, fingering, Jungkook has a virgin kink if you couldn’t tell by he title, lowkey sadistic JK, Gay BFF Jimin, mentions of alcohol and weed, brief mention of homophobia. bIG diCK Jungkook, more belly bulging, and I forgot what else

Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: Against you better judgement and thank to your best friend Jimin. You somehow agreed to let a stranger on campus known as the Cherry Popper, too well..pop your cherry.

Alternatively: You're a virgin. Jungkook has a fetish/kink for fucking virgins.

A/N: I guess i’ll keep putting this note until i stop reposting my old stories. I use to be lizardsocial, and this fic was previously called Game. You may still be able to find it somewhere on tumblr. I edited this fic heavily and it’s honestly a new story, but there are still some elements from the fic it used to be still in there. Unedited so please let me know of any mistakes or typos. Like, comment, reblog, let me know what you think. Enjoy!

_________________________________________

Bass boosted pop music seeped through the dense walls of the energetic room. Strobing bright colored beams danced to the rhythm of the music in mesmerizing synchrony. The musty odor of marijuana, booze, and sex-saturated air shrouded the room in a turbid veil, covering the sea of drunken undulating bodies packed in the cramped living room.  Empty beer cans and other various booze bottles mixed with burnt-out blunts accompanied the young adults. You groaned with irritation and disgust. You didn't want to be here, but to your chagrin, you had a promise to keep.

It wasn't a secret that the college nightlife was unquestionably not your type of 'scene.' You quite frequently elected to willingly engage most of your time in your freshman dorm, wrapped in your weighted burrito blanket. A nightstand stockpiled with all your favorite snacks, lights dimmed low, and lavender incense burning, filling your room with the aroma of relaxation. The perfect setting to binge-watch your favorite show for the umpteenth time, the shifting distorted brightness of your computer screen, projecting the scenes against your face. 

It's kind of funny how you got yourself into this mess in the first place. The one time you decide to take the chance and branch away from the alternate antisocial hermit, your personality had adopted as its own had come back to bite you in the ass. You admit, lately, you've been neglecting your best friend. Your reasonings generally varying from the classic 'oh I was sleep' to deliberately silencing your phone, not wanting to hear the constant shrill ringing of the default ringtone. You loved Jimin, you truly did, but you could only take so much of his eccentric mashup of bubblegum and rainbow sparkles that was his personality. Eventually, guilt began eating away at you piece by piece until you ultimately caved in and invited your friend over for an impromptu movie night in your dorm room. 

Not even 30 minutes into the movie, one that you had been dying to see, might you add, Jimin commenced his drunk and high chattering. He had already started 'pre-gaming' before he came over; Six shots of straight Vodka and 2 blunts. Every day you prayed for this man's liver and brain function; with how much he drank and smoke, you would think he needed it to function. 

"Oh! Oh! Bitttch. Did I tell you about that football player, I fucckked last week!" Jimin started slurring on certain words. You noticed his eyes were glossy and glazed over. 

"No, you didn't, Chim." You sighed, completely giving up trying to watch the movie. You would have to watch it on your alone time. 

"Reeaally?" Jimin slurred, a goofy grin uplifting his lips.

"Yes, really. You haven't told me." Amusement lightly coated your voice. 

"Welll, his name is T-tae, Tae-tae something. Hold on, it's coming to me." Jimin said, rubbing the sides of his temples, trying to remember the guys' name. 

"Taehyung! That's it!" Jimin shrieked, snapping his fingers in victory.

You looked at him startled. You remember Taehyung from high school. You didn't recall him being at this college, though. Well, it wasn't like you paid attention to many things outside your bubble anyway.

"Wasn't he homophobic as fuck in high school?" You asked, genuinely interested.

"Yeah, he was. Buttt I guess he was trying to cover up, that he was actually on the DL." Jimin smiled, whispering the last part.

"DL? What's that mean?" You inquired

Jimin looked at you with a look of betrayal. "It means he's on the down-low, meaning he didn't want anyone to know he's gay. Girrl, I'm too crossfaded to be explaining this to you."

You chuckled, " My bad, Chim. So was it good?"

"Fuck, no! Dick was straight trash. The only thing that saved him a little was that his dick was huge." Jimin said, wiping away a pretend tear from the corner of his eye. 

You laughed boisterously at that. If Jimin wasn't so adamant about becoming a professional dancer. He could seriously take up a career in comedy.

"Speaking of dick. When are you gonna get some?" Jimin asked, turning his body to face you completely. As you looked at him, you noticed his eyes seemed a bit clearer, and his face wasn't as red as earlier. Not only did Jimin drink like a fish and smoke like a chimney. He was somehow able to sober just as fast.

"Oh my god, Jimin. Please don't sta-"

"Mmm, no missy," Jimin said, wagging his finger in your face.

"Don't you hear it?" He said, cupping his hand around his ear as if he was straining to hear something.

"Hear what?" You replied, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms against your chest.

"The cobwebs and tumbleweed living in your cunt."

"Jimin!" You shrieked, slapping the arm closest to you.

"Don't Jimin me! You know it's true, I swear you're gonna be a 40-year-old virgin, and by the time you finally make the decision to have sex, it'll be too late!" Jimin yelled, stumbling to stand up from the couch.

"First off, ouch. I won't be a 40-year-old virgin. That's very insulting. Second, I do plan to lose it soon. I just haven't found the time or the right guy." You said, looking down at your feet shyly. You did want to lose your virginity, but with being an introvert with a mix of social anxiety and just a dash of seasonal depression for added flavor. It was hard even to get out of bed sometimes. Much less going out and trying to find someone to do the do with.

"Oh! Well, if that's all, then I got you covered, babe. Time? Next week Friday at Jihyo's dorm. As for the right guy, I know a dude. He has like a kink for that kind of thing." Jimin answered nonchalantly, now scrolling through his phone, probably on his social media page.

You looked at Jimin, head tilted to the side, confused. "What kind of thing?"

"Oh, you know fucking virgins and shit. Popping their cherries." He said, popping his "P's."

You sputtered, exasperated. What the fuck. You didn't kink shame, that was for losers, but he can't seriously expect you to do something like that.

"What the actual fuck. Jimin, are you serious?"  

"Deadly." He said, looking you square in your eyes. His tone of voice haven dropped an octave lower.

"Jimin no. I-i can't."

"Jimin, yes! Err, I mean _____ yes, you can! Come on, it's a once in a lifetime experience. Plus, it's not like he's a total stranger. I've known him since he was 8 years old. I use to babysit the little shit head." Jimin said, waving his hand in the air, trying to swat away a rogue fly.

"Wow, Chim. You know, now that you put it like it makes me feel a lot better about the situation." You said tone dripped in sarcasm

"Really?" Jimin squealed, a delighted twinkling in his eye.

"Of course not! Don't be stupid!" Offended, you gawked at Jimin. You swear sometimes he could be so dimwitted.

"Come on, please? At least meet him, and if the vibe is not right, then you can leave no harm done." Jimin pleaded, his attention back on you. Was it crazy that you were actually thinking about agreeing to this? Jimin did have a point. It was sort of a once in a lifetime opportunity. He did know the guy, and if you didn't like the vibe, then you could just bounce, right? Right?

Sighing in defeat, your hands dragged down your face and turned towards a pouting Jimin. Grabbing at his deflated shoulders, you shook her lightly, and with urgency in your voice, you spoke, "Alright goddammit! I'll do it, but you have to stay by my side the whole time, no running off, you understand!" 

You watched Jimin's face quirk into a sly smirk. You swore you could see the cogs in his brain churning. Damn, you were going to regret this. You had the tendency to make deals when pressured. Most of the time, those agreements ended up backfiring on you, confining you in the proverbial rock and a hard place. 

"Yay! Operation: Pop _____ Cherry has commenced. Okay, so will meet at the auditorium on the art campus. From there we will walk to Jihyo's dorm, it's only five minutes. Promise me you'll actually show up and won't flake on me." A complacent expression rested arrogantly on Jimin's features, a single pinky finger extended towards you. 

"Don't give this situation a not-so-secret code name. And I can't believe I'm saying this but, I promise." You agreed, interlocking pinky fingers, yours thumbs coming up to press against one another.

"So I'll meet you at the location Friday, don't be late, and wear something sexy. No granny clothes." he chirped, making his way to your front door.

"Wait! You're leaving already?" you frowned, looking at the clock on your wall. He's only been here for an hour, and 30 mins of it were spent persuading you to hurry up and lose your virginity. You didn't even get to finish the movie together.

"Sorry babe, but I have a dick appointment." he shrugged, putting his arms through the sleeves of his jacket.

"Can you at least tell me the name of the guy who's supposed to fuck me?" you huffed, honestly you were done for tonight. As soon as Jimin left, you were heading straight for bed.

"Oh yeah, how could I forget." Jimin slaps the center of his forehead. "He's a real cutie. I would fuck him if he wasn't as straight as an arrow." Jimin looks off to a far wall, eyeing it with jealousy.

"Just tell me his name, please." You pleaded. Oh yeah, that's definitely a headache forming. You could feel it already. Jimin snaps out of his daydreaming and spins his body towards you.

"Jungkook."

Time skip to a week later, and precisely as you suspected, what a mistake that whole conversation was. Now here you were at this fucking dorm party with people you didn't know or care to get to know. Jimin had left you as soon as he saw his next piece of ass. Restlessly you hauled down the short black dress that insisted on riding up your ass, the soles of your feet protesting in the slim heeled shoes. Floundering your way into the packed building, you couldn't help but query where Jungkook was. Jimin was supposed to get around to send you a picture of the mystery man, but that never happened. Funny how now was the best time you decided to question why exactly Jimin was your best friend.

"Well damn, the pictures Jimin sent me doesn't do you justice at all. You're fucking hot." You recoiled from the closeness of the voice, the heated breath sending chills skittering down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck ramrod straight. Heat spurred to your face when you whisked around to meet an absolutely gorgeous guy. Like unfairly gorgeous guy. You stared wide-eyed, taking in his chiseled facial features, paired with wide doe eyes and bunny smile decorating his face. Somehow, someway he's mastered looked soft and sexy at the same damn time. And fuck was that a dangerous combination for your pussy. Your heart too, but more so your cunt.

"U-uh, thanks? Who are you exactly?" You watch as he recoils back from your with a look of apprehension on his face.

"A-are you not ____?" he stutters cutely. You think you can see the beginnings of a blush burning his cheeks. You nod your head once to confirm his question. He stared at you a minute longer before you see the recognition spark in his chocolate orbs.

"Jimin didn't send you my picture did he?" Shaking his head with his eyes close, you get the courage the scan his face a bit more. Yeah. He's definitely blushing.

"Sorry. I guess seeing you here, I thought Jimin would have...prepared you better." Shaking your head from side to side because your words refused to come out. You watched as he backed up a bit further from your personal space and thrust his right hand out to you. 

"The name's Jungkook, or J.K. Whatever suits your taste."

With clammy hands, you taking his outstretched hand marveled at how it almost covers your hand. Now that he's moved back from you, you now had to chance to see how tall he really was. Maybe about 6 to 7 inches taller. You look down at his feet and eye his combat boot, perhaps a little shorter but still taller. And big, yeah, definitely bigger. His oversized black jacket did little to hide the broadness of his shoulders and chest. You let your eyes travel down the length of his body. You bet he's hiding some killer abs under his shirt. And holy fuck, his thighs.

"You like what you see, baby girl?" Teasing, he's teasing but God, if his voice didn't make you pussy throbbing pathetically. Whimpering slightly, you let out a meek "Yes." God, you hope he didn't hear that.

Much to your dismay, he did, hear you. How he heard you with the music as loud as it was, was a mystery to you. But you watched his pupils dilate, and his nostrils flare slightly. Jungkook tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes rake up and down your scantily clad body. His heated stare scrutinized across your body, intrigue exerting over him, as he analyzed the way the snug-fitting dress molded to the curves of your shape. He could tell you didn't do this often. His dick twitched in his jeans with enthusiasm. 

It's the increase in pressure of your hand that makes you realize you're still holding his hand. You go to retract your hand from his. However, yelp shrilly as he tugs you closer to his body. Both hands now resting on his chest, and his wrapped around your waist. Fuck, you could feel the warmth and coarseness of his hands through your thin dress. A spontaneous tremor racked your body. The heat-transmitting from his frame mixed with the floral yet musky undertone of his cologne made you somewhat featherbrained.

"Fuck, you're so soft." You squeak as he squeezes your waistline, pulling you even closer against his body. You were now putty in his hands.

"Jimin told you my....preferences, right?" his voice caressed your ear. Just a slight movement or subtle twitch, and his lips would be on your skin.

"Y-yeah, he did." It should be an embarrassment how frail and breathless you sounded, but that didn't matter.

Jungkook hid his smile behind your ear. This was just too easy. Just how he liked it. He almost felt bad- almost. He was gonna ruin you utterly and completely, mold the shape of cock in the walls of your pussy. His name spilling from your lips, voice going hoarse by how loud he would make you scream. Fuck he couldn't wait. He's had virgin's before, a lot of them. That's his whole M.O. The cherry popper, virgin fucker, whatever. Jungkook's heard all the names in the book. But there's just something about you, you just had an air of genuine innocence, and he couldn't wait to defile it. 

Jungkook pulls his head back, enough to where his eyes can trail over the bared skin of your neck, and the sprinkling of perspiration sparkling off the bright strobing lights, no doubt from nervousness. His tongue traced over his thin upper lip, watching the droplets of sweat spiral down the curve of your neck. He wanted to taste you. 

"Alright, then." He jerks his body away from you. You're no longer touching his chest, but his hands are still on your waist. 

"Let's enjoy the party before the fun really begins. Every done body shots before?" Jungkook spoke casually, undeterred by the way you recoiled back or the look of stupor on your face.

"W-what? B-body shots, why?" you squeaked, failing to keep from stuttering over your words. Is this how it's supposed to go? Is this normal? You're bewildered, and just a bit perturbed. Were you just imagining that sexual tension that was going on just moments ago? For sure, you thought Jungkook was gonna throw you over his shoulders and haul you off to the nearest unoccupied bedroom or bathroom. At that instant, you didn't care. 

Jungkook regarded the war of emotions wage across your features, merriment and strobing lights twinkling in his eyes. Fuck, you were cute, so desperate staring up at him with a pout on your face a puppy dog eyes. He could honestly just take you back to the closest room and fuck the shit out of you. But he wanted to play with his prey, a bit more. The wait made it that much more satisfying.

"Don't pout too much, baby girl or I may not be able to contain myself. Follow me. The table is this way."

Jungkook didn't indulge in answering any of your questions you rambled off at him, delighted to see you trailing on his heels like a lost pup. Jungkook directed you further into the dorm, and like a dog on a leash, you followed. In the center of a sparse room sat a scraped up black table. You observed the area. It was devoid of many people. The several that were present made no recognition of your proximity in their intoxicated state.

"So who's first?" Jungkook asked, setting the bottle of tequila, rim salt, and limes down on the table.

"U-uh, I don't know. I guess it doesn't matter." You shrugged hesitantly. You were way out of your element here.

"Perfect then, you first." Jungkook should be ashamed by how excited he was at getting to sample your skin. It looked smooth, felt soft when he had you in his arms, and would no doubt probably taste as sweet as it seemed. You nodded in docility, wandering over to crawl on top of the table, being attentive to your dress. You lay flattened against the table, shiverings racking your body as he began pouring a trail of salt between your cleavage. 

He poured himself a shot in the depression of your throat and tore the lime in half with his bare hands. Smirking at how you flinched when he thumped the liquor bottle down beside your head. Jungkook pushed the other half of the unevenly split lime towards your lips, a silent gesture to take the lime in your mouth. Jungkook watched as your lips curled gently around the hull of the green citrus. A flare of lust stirred in his loins at the action. He couldn't wait to see your lips stretched around the head of his cock. He observed your eyes clamped closed as he began dropping his head forward to your chest. It was adorable and innocent. He noted the way your lips slackened around the citrus in your mouth, your chest heaving in speed, the closer his tongue trailed to your neck.

You tasted splendid, just as sweet as he thought. The salt on your skin did nothing to deter your natural flavor. If anything, it enhanced your sweetness, rendering your skin damn near mouth-watering. Jungkook's ears perked at the breathless moans slipping past the fruit perched against your lips, drawn out by the repeated pass of the wet, pink appendage lapping at the salt line between the valley of your breast. Committing your muffled moans to memory, he lapped persistently at the collection of salt and tequila in the hollow at the base of your neck.

You face flammed in embarrassment as panting moans effortlessly tumbled from your mouth. Who knew your chest and neck was such an erogenous spot. Despite your shame, you couldn't stop wriggling, shifting your thighs together for some form of friction to sate the rising arousal dampening your panties. You yelped at the sensation of blunt teeth nibbling at your skin before soft lips came to suck at the shallow indentations. Fluffy hair with an undercut came into your line of vision as Jungkook lifted his head up to your lips. Your heart stammered tortuously against your ribs, flirtatious eyes stared lidded with searing lust, his head advanced closer to your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips puckering against the bitter hull of the lime.

Jungkook closed the distance, slanting his mouth over the lime, blocking his contact with yours. He sucked against the sour fruit, acidity puckering his lips, residual tartness flowing to your cracked lips. Jungkook withdrew from your mouth, taking the drained lime hull with it. Your saccharine moans were heaven to his ears. It had awoken something inside him, fueled his fire in knowing that possibly no one had ever heard such a sweet sound. He wanted more, craved more. 

"Have you ever been kissed before, sweetheart?" Your eyes followed the movement of his tongue, poking out to moistening his lips. 

"Yeah, once in like 3rd grade." Who hasn't snuck behind a tree or hid underneath the dark coverings of playground equipment to lock lips with a childhood crush?

He grinned salaciously, body moving to rest between your spread legs. Oh, now he was really excited. Your lips were practically untouched. Just another part of your body to claim first. You jumped when palms pressed flat against the revealed skin of your thigh. Gently, Jungkook rubbed lazy circles on your skin, never lowering or furthering than the hem of your dress. He felt you wiggle beneath his hands, observed your eyes, glimpsing―darting about, should you concentrate on his face, or his hand, uncertainty was etched on your face.

"Amazing." He groaned, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, before grinning again. His face inched closer to yours, his lips but a breath apart, warmth flickered against your lips as he talked, level and smooth. " Well, how about I become your second?

And then his lips were on you, the soft muscle mangled itself to your lips, tentative and sluggish to give you a chance to register his mouth slanted upon yours. Jungkook chuckled against your lips at your unresponsiveness. He guesses you were a little shell shocked. It only takes a few more stagnant seconds before you're shyly reciprocating his kiss. Delicate, shaky movements highlighted your inexperience. Increasingly, Jungkook increased the pressure behind lips, his hands spreading to enclose around your waist, dragging you closer against him. One of Jungkook's hands removed from your waist to bury itself in your hair, gently his fingernails scratched against your scalp, an airy moan was his reward. 

Hands completely abandoning your midsection, one gripped the meat of your thigh, pulling you to the edge of the table, flush against the tent of his denim jean encased manhood, the other embedded in your strands pulled sharply on your roots, a loud gasp tearing from you. Jungkook took that opportunity to advance his tongue into your gaped mouth. His tongue wrapped itself around yours, briefly wrestling for dominance before easily pinning your tongue in submission. His hips ground against yours, the heat of your covered core teased him through his jeans. 

He thoroughly explored your mouth, swallowing the now copious cries leaving your mouth. Reluctantly, Jungkook tore himself from your kiss-swollen lips. The ravished looked suited you perfectly. You looked beautiful, thighs brazenly spread, eyes glazed over in lust, your sticky chest heaving from the length of the shared kiss. Even in the dim lights, he could make out the taunt pebbling of your nipples. 

Your mouth gaped wide, flapping about like a fish out of water, trying despairingly to draw air into your lungs. Your first kiss definitely didn't compare to this much. Your wide eyes flicked between Jungkook and the floor, your bottom lip tucked firmly between your teeth, feeling shy as he just stares at you. Releasing your teeth from your lips, you timidly touched your mouth, admiring how plump they've gotten from the intense liplock.

Wordlessly Jungkook hitched you over his shoulder, winded with a grunt as his defined shoulder blades dug into your stomach and what sounded like a growled vibrate up into you. You squirmed lightly in his hold, scared he was going to drop you, and secondly, your panty-clad ass on display for the party-goers, not that anyone was looking. 

You watched the continuous panels of hardwood floor move beneath you as Jungkook carried you to an unknown destination. You couldn't believe you were really doing this. Were you actually going to have sex with a complete stranger? Someone who was known for explicitly fucking virgins. Realistically, you should be ashamed, yet, you conceded full control to him without a second thought. What did that say about you? About your character? Would you now be labeled as 'easy' or a 'hoe' after all this was done? What was going to happen between you and Jungkook? 

The flick of a switch stirred from your thoughts. You shield your eyes with your hand at the bright lights pouring into the room, or rather a bathroom. Jungkook loved the confusion marring your features. He wouldn't fuck you in his bedroom just yet. That was a privilege you would have to earn, no matter how intrigued he had become with you. There's always humiliation to be had in the corruption of innocence, and fucking you in the bathroom was a good start. He planned on making you watch him as he destroyed your body, popping your cherry, stretching your tight virginal hole to accommodate his length, and claimed it as his own. Jungkook shuddered at the thought, his possessive nature taking a turn for the worst. 

Impatiently Jungkook sat you on top of the bathroom sink counter, his lips smashed against yours, the previous tenderness was gone, vanished into a puff of smoke. Teeth banged, and tongues flailed recklessly against each other in the heat of passion, with you struggling to keep up with the demands of his dominating kiss. Thick fingers trailed beneath the hem of your dress, tickling the expanse of your thighs. Jungkook wasted no time in shifting your slick soaked panties to the side, a warm digit gliding effortlessly through your damn folds.

"Fuck, you're already so wet. You're enjoying this a little too much, baby girl." Jungkook growled, panting against your lips. His finger breached your sex, you tensed deftly around the foreigner intrusion, stretching your weeping walls. 

"Ah, Jungkook." You cried listlessly, rocking your hips against his stilled finger. He felt so good inside you, and it was just his finger. Maybe this experience wouldn't be as bad as you heard. Now you couldn't wait to see what his cock felt like embedded deep within your pussy. Jungkook pumped slowly, eventually introducing a second finger to help loosen you up more. You were gonna be a tight fit, very tight, but that just made it even better. You hissed at the slight burn as he began scissoring his fingers apart with each withdrawal. Your hands wrapped around his neck as you buried your head against his broad chest, your mellifluous moans suppressed by the fabric of his shirt. 

"G-go faster, please." You begged, your body adjusting and quickly becoming frustrated by the snail's pace his fingers were pumping. You bucked your hips against his hands, hoping he would ease the growing discomfort boiling in your stomach. 

"Have you ever had an orgasm before, babe?" You nodded eagerly at his question, whining as you bucked against his hand again.

"Oh, really? Who gave it to you." Slow, he was going too slow you wanted, no you needed more friction, more stimulation from him.

"M-me. I-i did." Jungkook loved how you stuttered, it stroked his ego and filled him with arrogance to know it was him, and only that was capable of making you stumble over your words.

"Mmm, and how did you do it? Did you rub this little clit of yours raw?" You cried louder when his thumb flicked at your clit, the stimulation further drawing the appendage from its hood.

"Or did you fuck this tight hole, with these tiny fingers of yours?" At those words, a loud, choked moan, even muffled by your face in his chest, echoed throughout the white bathroom. Jungkook had gone deeper inside, almost to the third knuckle. Another moan left your lips as he twisted his fingers inside you, his palm now facing upwards.

"Though you and I bought know they couldn't possibly reach deep enough to touch the spot you really want." It's euphoric, no better yet orgasmic, the sheer shock of electric pleasure that zaps through your body when he finds the spongy bundle of nerves. Your body jerked heavily, legs go to snap close, only to be stopped by his broad body between your thighs.

He chuckles softly, stroking your thigh with his other hand. Jungkook shifts his head down, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. He exhales quietly, warm air tinged with tequila and lime caresses the light hairs on you around your ear. " I found it, huh?"

You whimper, rubbing your head up and down against his chest.

"You want me to speed up the pace, sweetheart?" Jungkook's voice is delicate now, so gentle. But you're confused, overwhelmed, and scared. It's never felt like this when you did it yourself. Your not sure if you could handle the feeling, so you don't provide an answer to Jungkook's question.

"Don't ignore me ____, that's not nice manners. I'll ask again." You clench around his fingers as Jungkook inches just a bit deeper. 

"Do you. Want me. To go faster?" With each pause, he arches his fingers in a 'come here' motion, pressing deeply against your bundle of nerves, the sensation of having to pee accompanied with each thrust.

 "Y-yes, faster, more. Pl-lease." Fuck, you sounded so pretty begging for him if he wasn't addicted before. You had him sprung now. Jungkook buried his face in the crook of your neck, the sharp smell of tequila and salt still lingering on your skin. He sucked at the junction where your shoulder and neck met. You bucked harder against his fingers, your juices now dripping to coat his palm is sticky cream.

"If you wanted more. Why didn't you just ask?" Jungkook said deviously. Confused, you felt withdraw his sticky digits, walls gripping to stop their departure. Without warning, Jungkook flipped you over onto the counter, your knees buckled at the sudden change in position. Your faced burning at your displayed state, droplets of your essence dribbled from your pussy, slicking up your inner thighs. You yelped as Jungkook grasped at the length of your hair, pulling back pointedly, your neck craned back to observe him addressing you in the mirror.

"You've been wondrous for me ____. Such a sweet girl." He expressed, his empty hand disappearing behind your perked ass to fiddle with the groin of his pants. 

"Truly, you have. Your response and reactions to my touch have really gotten me riled up. It's been a while since I've tittered on the edge of losing control." You wheezed, starting to panic as you felt the thick head of his cock slap teasingly against your slicked throbbing hole. Oh, God, he's huge. Jungkook's cock might just tear you apart. You shifted your hips forward, pressing against the cold marble of the bathroom counters door.

"I-i don't think, I can t-take it Jungkook, you're too b-big. It's my first-time, r-remember?” Your stuttering worse now, but you're scared.

Jungkook pulls your hips back with the hand the was grasping his length, the side of your hip now coated in his pre-cum. His hand lays flat in the crease of your back, forcing you into a perfect arch. 

"You can take it, all of it. And don't worry, of course, I remembered your fragility. I'll go slow, I promise." You plead silently with your eye contact through the mirror. 

"You ready?" You nod once an advert your eyes down to the sink.

Your mouth shakily falls agape as he slowly began pushing the head of his cock into you. It burns, but not as bad as you had anticipated. You take the chance to look back up into the mirror, adamant about giving Jungkook a thankful smile for his gentleness. That vision that greets looks like it jumped right off the page of your favorite erotic story. 

Jungkook's got his head thrown back, the edge of his t-shirt clenched tightly between his teeth, your eyes trail the drip of sweat that follows the curve of his jawline. You have a clear view of his abs all the way down to the v-cut of his hip, to the happy trail that leads to a neatly trimmed bush of pubic hair. You clench tightly around him, efficiently aroused by the view. You feel his cock throbbed heavily inside you, even getting bigger if possible.

"You like that, sweet girl? You like seeing me struggling to contain myself because you're so tightly around me. This little pussy trying to milk me for all I can give you." You love it. You feel powerful in a way. Do you really feel that good around him?

"Yes." Jungkook draws out the 'S.' 

"You feel amazing, so warm and wet. I wished you could see how coated in white you've got me, and I'm not even all the way in yet."

You scream soundless as he bucks into you, shoving in half of his length. It doesn't hurt anymore. You just feel stuffed full. Lifting a trembling hand, you take the chance a feel the lower part. You noticed swelling that wasn't there before, intrigued; you push down against it, moaning in shock you realize it's Jungkook's cock. 

"Yeah, baby girl, that's all me, well, most of me. You ready to take the rest?"

"Yes! Please!" That's the clearest you've been all night. You don't get an answer as Jungkook immediately picks up his pacing, thrusting into you faster. He wastes no time pumping deeply into your tight pussy, his tip smashing against the entrance to your cervix as you pant and grit your teeth in slight discomfort, overshadowed by pleasure. The burning sensation is back as he fucks in deeper with each brutal and swift stroke. But you don't care cause it still feels amazing. You can hear yourself, sloppy and soaking wet, echoing throughout the bathroom. You're drooling down his pistoning cock. You can feel it dripping down your inner thighs. Your head jerks violently against your shoulders, to weak support your head from his menacing thrust. 

Tightened vocal cords released strained shrieks of praise; from your mouth, drool dripping from your lips, into the sticky cleavage of your breast, and sweat coated your skin. The coil in your stomach was quickly tightening, never had you felt anything so deep inside you. If you ever had sex with anyone else, they would never compare to Jungkook.  You were fucked both figuratively and literally.

Jungkook pulled you further from off the sink, the new position allowing him even deeper. You clawed at the marble tops underneath your fingers, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. That sensation of having to pee is back again.

"J-K, I-m. I have to-," You don't get to finish as the band in your stomach snapped. Silently you announced your release; if it wasn't for the new wave of cum coating his cock, or the fluttering tightness of your walls, Jungkook might have missed your orgasm. He wasn't far behind you. The constant clenching of your ridged walls around his cock, had him reaching his limit sooner than he would like. Jungkook had half a mind to pull out but decided to gamble his odds. You're the first person he's fucked raw in a while, and with three deep thrusts later, he was shooting his hot seed right against your cervix. 

Breathing heavily, Jungkook lets you fall against the sink, observing as you crumpled against the sink countertop. Pride swelled his chest as he watched his seed bubble out of your well-used hole. He's never contemplated going farther with the virgins he fucked. He wouldn't make any hasty decisions now though there were still a lot of things he wanted to do with you. He would sleep on it and revisit the idea in the morning.

"So would you say, Operation: Pop Your Cherry was a success?"

You giggled, winded, still having difficulty catching your breath. You straighten up against the bathroom counter, the majority of your weight still resting on the object as you had yet to regain the feeling in your legs.

"Jimin and his stupid code names. I swear when I get a hold ass, he's dead." You warned already preparing your revenge on your best friend. You stare at Jungkook in the eyes through the mirror, smile a bit goofy, you say.

"Operation: Pop My Cherry. Mission complete."

[boytouya]

OKAY this might be vague and i’m so sorry if it is i’m a terrible explainer 🤚

but shinsou crushing on a male reader from his class that wears a face mask so he gets curious as to what he looks like and one day he just brainwashes him into taking it off

i don’t even know how to end it this was kind of random <//3

Between Boyfriends

NO BECAUSE THIS IS SO CUTE !!!

Warnings: None!

Class 1-C is full of nosy people. People who talk too much, ask too many questions, stand too close. Shinso is familiar with each and every one of them, and quite frankly, they bore him. He sits in the far back of his class, lucky enough to stay away from the people who annoy him. There’s one boy, however, that peaks his interest. Every time they lock eyes Shinso can feel heat flush his face. It’s embarrassing, acting like a schoolboy whose resolve jumps out the window at the sight of a pretty face. But it’s not as if he can exactly see the boys’ face. He just has a pretty vibe. There he goes again, losing his cool and thinking about ‘vibes’ like a hopeless romantic. Hitoshi bites his tongue and his face contorts as if he bit straight into a lemon at the thought of being hopelessly in love. Maybe he’s moving too fast.

Then again, he says that a lot to undermine his feelings. It’s not like you’re strangers, if anything, Hitoshi would like to believe you’re up to friend status. The two of you have hung out before, you’ve shared headphones and talked from sunrise to sunset, so maybe his feelings are reasonable. You’re the only one who accepts his blunt nature, the only one who has complimented his quirk, the only one who felt genuine. He remembers seeing you smile for the first time, and although your mouth was covered he could see it in your eyes. Thinking about it made his heart beat against his ribcage. He wanted to see your smile. Part of him wonders if it has to do with your quirk, maybe you need it as some form of life support? You took it off once, but politely asked him to turn away whilst doing so. Maybe you were insecure. But that wouldn’t make sense, right? How could someone so irrevocably handsome be insecure? Shinso sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case. He also hoped he’d stop rambling soon, because he was beginning to sound like Midoriya.

When the day ends, you and Shinso are the last ones out, and nerves reveal themselves in balled fists and wobbly legs. Every other Wednesday you walk home together, and Shinso grasps onto them in hopes that they’ll never disappear. But or course, all good things must come to an end. You’re walking ahead of him, talking about something that Shinso is half listening to, before you look back and see his purple eyes boring into your mask.

“What’s wrong?” Your head tilts to the right and Shinso’s brain short circuits at the display. Great, now he’s beginning to sound like Kaminari.

Holy shit. Now is his chance. It’s almost perfectly timed, with the orange and peach hued sunset beaming on your face and highlighting your features, Shinso feels like he’s staring at an angel. The sweetest, funniest, best person he has ever met. The closest to an angel he can get. Hitoshi takes a deep breath in and asks:

“Do you trust me?” You nod firmly.

“Of course, why-?”

That’s all the confirmation he needs. He walks up to you and cups your cheeks, covered by the mask that he’s cursed for so long. Gently, he takes your hand and guides them up to the mask. There’s a difference in size, and it makes his chest feel tight. One more second of suspense and Hitoshi might explode.

“Take off your mask,” He clears his throat and adds “Please.” with a strained voice.

His hand ghosts yours, hovering over them so he can truly feel that this is real, that this is truly happening. The mask rises above your head and to the side. Shinso doesn’t know whether to cry, punch the air, or do a flip because he’s never felt this feeling before. Underneath the mask lays your smile, warm and bright and perfect. So perfect it’s overwhelming. Hitoshi never held you up to a certain standard, never tried to find something to compare you to, and never doubted you. You’re more handsome than he could have ever imagined. How was it possible to be handsome and pretty? White haze lifts from your eyes and your shoulders relax. When you’ve fully gained control back, you realize how close the two of you are. You can feel his breath against your face, and you almost feel embarrassed with the idea of being so... exposed. Then again, it’s just Shinso. The boy who has a cat on his lockscreen. The boy you walk home with. The boy you have a crush on, and the boy you want to pull closer.

“You didn’t have to brainwash me to get me to do that.”

Fuck. He really, really wants to kiss you.

[laschatzi]

It’s Forever

After What His Captain Needs, here’s another little bit of Killian/Smee friendship, sparked and inspired by @thesschesthair. And of course be sure to check out her own Killian/Smee tale Who Is She?

summary:  Mr. Smee has more or less settled into his new life in Storybrooke and hasn't seen a lot of his Captain in some time, when one evening he approaches him and seems to have something on his mind.

rating: G

word count: ~1,6k

also on: ao3 and ff.net

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

“Here you go, William!” Granny puts a plate in front of him, loaded with an enormous burger and fried mozzarella sticks. Leaning a little forward, she tells him in a conspiratorial voice, “And I made that extra cheese super extra.” She has a soft spot for him since Marco has taken him under his wings, because she has a soft spot for Marco.

Smee’s eyes light up, and he beams. “Thank you! You’re too good to me!”

Granny waves him off grumpily, “I know, I know,” and leaves him to his dinner.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to have more than two healthy bites and one mozzarella stick, before he’s interrupted by a shadow falling on the table and a well-known voice. 

“Evening, Mr. Smee.”

He puts his burger down and raises his gaze, and like always, he has to look that second longer to make sure it’s him, because even after a few weeks – and he hasn’t seen that much of him lately – he just hasn’t gotten used to the Captain’s new, modern wardrobe yet. With uncharacteristic caution, he motions his hook to the bench opposite him.

“May I?”

If he’s being honest, Smee isn’t too happy about the interruption, but decades over decades of being the First Mate to his Captain are ingrained in his brain – far would it be from him to deny him any request; so he nods immediately.

“Of course, sir.”

The Captain slides into the booth and motions between them with his ringed hand – Smee notices that, in spite of his wardrobe change, he kept the rings and the necklace and is also wearing an earring, and he’s somehow relieved about that.

“It’s been too long,” the Captain says jovially and sounds weirdly guilty at the same time.

“Well, a lot has been going on,” Smee offers, “with that Snow Queen and the Dark One’s latest schemes.”

The Captain clenches his jaw. “Luckily, his wife fixed that. He won't bother anyone ever again.” He shakes his head once, as if he's trying to clear his mind. “Anyway, I wanted to speak to you sooner.”

“About what, Cap'n?”

But instead of an answer, he wants to know, “Did you get your memories back? Of what happened in the past year?”

Ah, that's what's on his mind. “Aye,” he responds in a neutral tone.

“Then you remember we found the Jolly Roger again?” the Captain asks in a – for him – unusually tentative way.

“You took her back from Blackbeard,” Smee nods and rubs his beard. “One day, we harbored in a port, and when the crew and I returned to the docks, the ship was gone.” After the tiniest break, he adds, “And so were you.” The Captain averts his eyes, but he barely notices, because suddenly, he remembers another detail. “It happened the same day that bird had landed aboard!”

“That bird,” the Captain replies, “carried a message from Baelfire.”

“Baelfire, sir?” Smee frowns. “The Dark One’s son?”

“The very same.” He tilts his head. “The message said a new curse was coming and endangering everyone, and that I needed to find the Savior.”

“Hm.” Smee nods and briefly gazes longingly at his remaining mozzarella sticks but then looks back at the Captain when he clears his throat, obviously feeling a little uncomfortable.

“Look, I didn’t like leaving everyone behind,” he admits, “but I didn’t want to put the crew’s lives at risk.” He tilts his head. “And, well… I thought I had a better shot if I went alone.”

Smee nods again, almost solemnly. “You’re a hell of a captain.”

“I did manage to outrun the curse,” the Captain agrees almost humbly and falls silent, as if he’s contemplating how to continue, which has the surprise of his First Mate increase. He has never seen his Captain at a loss for words, and he surely never has given off the vibe that he’s trying to apologize or even just explain himself. This encounter is getting stranger by the minute, even if the Captain’s uncharacteristic behavior isn’t unpleasant at all.

“So,” Smee prompts, “the Jolly Roger is in the Land Without Magic, the town where the Savior lived during the last year?”

The Captain raises his eyebrows. “Now now, Mr. Smee, you know the ship cannot travel between realms without a magic bean or some other sort of portal.” There’s a glimpse of his old gruffness, but it’s still overlaid by that unusual hint of self-consciousness.

“Of course, sir.”

“Alas,” he continues and tilts his head, “I didn’t have my resourceful First Mate with me to procure one, so I had to…” He pauses for a moment, licks his lips and then looks him straight in the eyes. “I had to trade the ship for a magic bean.”

So that’s what’s weighing on him. Suddenly, the Captain’s odd behavior during the past year in the Enchanted Forest – he seemed restless and driven, almost haunted, all the time, didn’t seem interested in women anymore – makes sense. She’s not just a ship. I haven’t been myself since we’ve returned. It’s because I don’t have her.

His mouth curves into a smile. “Can’t say that I’m surprised.” The Captain raises his eyebrows in question, and Smee explains, “All the time in the Enchanted Forest, you weren’t missing your ship, sir. You were missing your love.”

“And since when are you a mind reader, Mr. Smee?” he snarls, but with a remarkable lack of sharpness.

Smee shrugs. “Any First Mate worth his salt should be able to understand what's going on in his Captain's mind,” he replies calmly.

“You’ve always been worth yours, Mr. Smee,” the Captain admits and briefly rubs a spot behind his ear. “But I’m afraid I don’t know when – or even if – I’ll ever get the ship back.”

Smee snorts softly. “Would that even make a difference, sir?” The Captain doesn’t look like he wants to protest, and he adds, “We both know you won’t be going anywhere.”

Without even trying to contradict Smee’s statement, the Captain runs his hand over his mouth. “All those decades we spent chasing the Dark One, my revenge…” He shakes his head and falls silent.

Smee is amazed by the guilt in his eyes and feels the mighty urge to let him know that’s absolutely not necessary. “They were not wasted,” he reassures, “they were part of the journey.” The Captain doubtfully sways his head from side to side, and Smee says firmly, “After three hundred years, a man is allowed to settle down.” And find happiness, he adds in his mind, but doesn’t dare to say it.

The blue eyes he's often seen angry, severe, sarcastic study him searchingly. “Are you trying to?” the Captain inquires, honest concern in his voice.

“Sort of, I guess,” he replies with a shrug. “The local carpenter needed help, and I–”

“You were always adroit with wood,” the Captain acknowledges with a nod, and Smee smiles at the accolade.

“He also offered me a room above the carpentry,” he goes on, the Captain’s genuine interest warming his heart; but then, he’s always been taking care of his crew, so it really shouldn’t surprise him. “It’s a start.”

“It surely is.” He leans forward, and Smee registers that the floral patterns of his shirt seem to bear some resemblance to one of his favorite vests he remembers from the past – a bright red one that the ladies seemed to like in particular. “Mr. Smee, I never planned any of this,” he tells him and waves his hand around vaguely.

“A new adventure, then,” he suggests, and the Captain huffs a little laugh, making him think again that he somehow likes this new side of the man he’s known for three centuries now.

“An awfully big one,” the Captain agrees with a serious nod, “might be the biggest one yet.”

A little touch of self-doubt clings to his words, as if he isn’t really sure yet that he’s fit for this new life, trading three hundred years of rogueish restlessness for a patch of dirt and a prickly woman who comes with her very own burdens, if what he heard around the town is true, one of them being the Savior and a hero. But then again, he very obviously loves her, and the last weeks have proven that Captain Hook, the most cutthroat pirate Captain to ever sail the Seven Seas, is on the best way to become a hero himself, and Smee feels an absurd touch of pride about that.

He grins. “We’ll surely master it, Cap’n.” The Captain smiles briefly, as if he’s somehow relieved, and Smee adds, “I’ll just occasionally miss… hanging with the crew.” He doesn’t say what he really means.

The Captain raises his eyebrows. “But Mr. Smee,” he softly reprimands, “settling down and starting over doesn’t mean you have to cut off all the ties to your former life and burn your boats.”

“It does not?”

“Why, of course not!” he affirms and elaborates, “You can give up a pirate’s life anytime you want. But friendship?” He leans forward and tilts his head in his inimitable way. “It’s forever.”

He doesn’t say what he really means either, Smee suspects. But he knows, and that’s enough for him.

[deepdonutkid]

Buy me a drink and let me tell you why I need it

Authors note

Thank you very much for the request    @caelys​ I had fun writing it and actually I thought about modern!au John way too much. Like I made a model for his apartment and a playlist and I could possibly draw ten more fan arts of him.

It takes place in a modern setting, but it starts before John goes to the military. He and Tommy still work in the Garrison, besides some other shadier jobs. Arthur is a car mechanic or something like that. Ada still goes to school and Finn too. Polly and Michael are not mentioned here.

Female reader x bartender!John BIG PUNK VIBES HERE!

Actually, this was going to be a multi-chapter fic with intense slow-burn, but whatever there it is. Just say one thing and I’ll write a second part!

tagging  @bonniesgoldengirl​

 Warning: drinking, drug use, marijuana, swearing, infidelity mentioned, a little bittersweet

Word count: 2348

 The garrison was not a pub for everyone. It was full of gangsters and other low-life scum. A woman was a curiosity. Working there wasn’t pleasant, but John didn’t complain.

It was the only legal job he got after graduating. He worked at the Garrison twice a week, usually on Friday and Saturday.

The nice thing about this work was the free beer and he could make as many cigarette breaks as he liked.

Nevertheless, John was a little pissed that night, because he could see his friends drinking over there and he had to stand behind the counter. Tommy’s orders!

“Fuck off, Tommy”, he mumbled while cleaning bar. Of course, his brother didn’t hear that, he was busy making some phone calls. John didn’t want to know, who Tommy was calling or why. Probably their next job.

But while he was still on the first one, he didn’t want to think about more work. He already had enough. It was past ten and John hadn’t eaten for hours.

At first, he was to occupied from his work to notice you. You sat down at the bar and cleared your throat. It wasn’t on purpose or to get the bartenders attention. Actually, you just wanted your peace. You hated being trapped in your new apartment, while everything was still so empty. Since you moved, so much changed in your life, but you still felt lonely.

That’s why, you walked straight into the nearest pub, when you couldn’t bear the weight of your own thoughts. But now you realized you hadn’t a penny left. Or at least not enough for a beer. “Get me a glass of water please.”, you said to the bartender, who kept starring at you. First you thought he was a little weird and also a little intimidating, but then you understood what he expected from you. An order, of course.

“A glass of water?”, he asked with a grin on his face: “Really? You know, where you are, girl?”

Now you looked confused. Maybe there was an unspoken rule, to not order a soft drink in this place, but how you should know? After all, you’ve been pretty new to Small Heath. Three days ago you moved into your new place. It was small, but it was yours. Your private space and your sanctuary. “A pub… maybe?”, you joked: “So what about the water?”

“Ah, I get it… It’s the end of month.”, he responded.

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m always broke. Money is not my thing.”

“Not mine either.”

Now he got your attention. You took a closer look at the bartender. He was somehow handsome. A pretty face for a fucked-up place like this. Then you noticed the tattoos on his arms, that peaked out of the sleeves of his shirt. “Dead Kennedys. Nice”, you mumbled and smiled slightly, barely visible.

He put a filled glass in front of you and smirked. “No need to pay.”

Your eyes widened. That bartender really surprised you. He was nicer than he looked like. You took a sip from the glass and nodded. “Thanks… I guess.”

The water was okay, but everything you wished for was a beer or a whiskey. Something to stop your brain from thinking. However, you nipped the glass very patiently, because you didn’t want to leave this place too soon. You didn’t know the neighborhood and chances were high, you got lost on your way around town.

The bartender seemed to notice your tension. “Do you want to drink something else?”

“A beer would be nice.” You croaked

The handsome man behind the bar nodded and pulled out a pint. “A beer, it is.”

You didn’t know it yet, but you were the only thing tonight, that made his work bearable. Everything else was so boring and you were new in town. Every little thing about you was so exciting for him. Staring with the fact that you stumbled into the Garrison without knowing its reputation. Then your little comment about his shirt, yes, he heard that. And your overall appearance was just the cherry on top.

The leather jacket, the ripped jeans and your washed-out Kurt Cobain shirt said a lot about you and John was ready to listen. What else should he do in the next couple of hours until his shift ended?  

“I’m John.”, he said and served you a beer.

You noticed the twinkle with his eye and replied with a shy smile. “Just call me Y/n”

The two of you shook hands and exchanged a strange glance. Was he flirting with you? No, of course not, you brushed it off. It was part of his job, to be nice to his customers.

After a few sips of your beer, you calmed down a bit, but not enough. You fumbled in the inside pocket of your jacket for your package. You smoked Dunhill and probably started way to early in life. An end of your smoking addiction was not in sight. The package was already half empty, when you opened it.

“Fuck” you cursed and signed. How could you make it to your next pay check with just a few cigarettes left? Maybe skip dinner a few times.

“Cigarettes are empty too?” he asked “I would give you one of mine, but they are empty too.”

“No, I still have some left, but not enough until July. Maybe not even enough for the rest of this night.”, you explained.

You took two out of the package and put it back. “Want one? I don’t have money, but at least I still have something to smoke.”

“Whatcha smoking?” “Dunhill”, you answered.

A wide grin appeared on his face. “Me too.”

“I know, I shouldn’t… but I just can’t quit.” You shrugged and lit your cigarette.

John brushed it off. “Fuck em. I think, I’m never gonna quit too. This shit just stays with you forever.”

“True”, you signed and took a deep drag from your cigarette.

“So… why am I the only girl in this place? Is there something I should know?”

“Nah, not really. It’s just…”, he began to explain, but then paused to smoke. You liked how he leaned against the counter. Like there was no cooler person in this room. “I don’t know… most women don’t like it here. Too filthy or whatever.”

You nodded and looked around. Everything smelled like ashtray and whiskey. There was dirt lying around. Nobody seemed to bother, so you chose not to either.

“And you are new in Birmingham?”, he asked: “All the locals know to stay away from this place.”

Again, you nodded and hid your smile behind your hand. “I just grabbed my bass and some clothes and left.”

“Bass?” Now, John was hooked. Since he could walk and talk, he had a thing for music. Especially rock and punk and he blabber about his favorite bands all day. Of course, he never learned to play an instrument, because his family was too poor, but he stole every record he could lay hands on. “You play bass?”

“Yeah, I can also play guitar, but I sold mine to get here. I started playing in a band now and I really hope this is going to work out… somehow.”, you explained

“Maybe.”, he said: “I can ask Harry, if you can play here. Live music would be great.”

You beamed and jumped almost over the counter. “Really?”

“But I need to listen to a song first. Otherwise, I can’t do it with good conscience.”

“Yeah, sure thing! When I get the promo tape, I’ll come back here.” Finally, some good news for you. After all you went though you really needed that and right now you just couldn’t stop smiling.

Three beers later, you were already in an in-depth discussion about music and which bands paved the way for punk.

After six more beers, you danced to the song he put on. John watched you with the purest joy. Nobody has ever danced in the Garrison. Good for him, that Tommy left, because “something important” occurred.

On beer twelve you sang for all the man to watch. The Shelby just could take his eyes off you, even when you didn’t hit the right tone.

He even caught you, when you fell over the counter.

But in the end the bar had to close and you still had nowhere to go, so you waited for him to finish his work. It took twice as long, because John kept staring at you in awe.

After everything was done, he asked, if he should walk you home and you agreed. Actually, you didn’t say yes, you hugged him and rubbed your cheek against his. Then you made a purring sound and told him your address.

You even hold hands with him, but that was mainly, because you were to drunk to walk straight. But you had plenty of time to sober up along the way.

Finally arriving at the front door, you had to stop laughing and catch a breath to manage to say something. “Do you…”, you began and paused, because you didn’t know how to phrase it.

Without hesitation he answered: “Yes! Yes… I mean, it would be cool.”

And again, you started laughing. “I was about to ask, if you want to watch the stars on my rooftop, but I didn’t know you were going to be so excited about this.”

He scratched his neck and chuckled. “Yeah, we were talking about the same thing.”

“Oh honey, I’m taken”, you explained

That last three words crumbled his hopes, that have been build up since you walked into the Garrison.

But he was a gentleman and he shouldn’t expect anything from a woman. After all, you don’t owe him anything. Even though he thought you were flirting with him the entire night.

He just bit his lip and shrugged. “No problem here.”

Then he added: “But we might not see the stars though all the smog and light pollution.”

“Let’s give it a try.” you opened the door and smiled.

You took the steps up to your apartment, John followed you closely. When the two of you entered the small flat, everything was still dark. The alarm clock next to your mattress said four in the morning.

John was so curious, when he looked around. “You really didn’t lie, when you said, you just took you bass and nothing more.”

“Yup”, you mumbled and walked to a pile of clothes. “Do you want to smoke one with me?”

When you pulled out the joint, John grinned at you. His cheeks were still red. “Why not?”

Climbing out of your window and onto the roof sounded way easier than it turned out to be.

But the view was great, and that was enough.

You lit the joint and inhaled the white smoke, just to blow it out again.

“No stars in sight, babe”, he noted while looking up

He was right, but you were still glad, that he came up here with you. You feared the moment of being alone again. “Yes, but the view… is amazing.”

You didn’t notice, he was glaring at you when he said: “Yeah, it really is.”

Then you turned to him to pass him the joint.

John took one drag and coughed. “That shit’s strong.”

At first you tried not to laugh, but ended up giggling anyway.

“What?”, he asked with blunt curiosity.

When you calmed down, you had to tell him the joke that just crossed your mind: “I like my weed like my sex… keeps me paralyzed for a while.”

That was the last thing he thought he would hear from you. He would believe his ears, if he hadn’t starred at your lips the entire time. “Uhm, okay.”, he whispered and hit the joint one more time.

The longer you sat there with him, the more comfortable you two got. After talking the whole night about music and artists and stuff, you finally opened up.

You told him why you left your home town and moved to Birmingham.

And he told you in return something you would have expected either. “Just a few more months and I’ll be in the military.”

John didn’t look like a soldier or somebody who took pride in defending his country. You couldn’t understand, how a wonderful guy like him ended up serving the forces. It just didn’t seem to fit in. But then again, you knew him for a few hours now, so who are you to judge?

“I’m scared”, he whispered: “that nobody but my family will write me… and I’m going to be all alone in the middle of nowhere.”

That feeling was all too familiar for you. Your heart ached, when you glared at him. “I write you.”, you promised. “And phone you and what else.”

“You would?” His voice was full of doubt. “We don’t know each other really.”

It was true, but you always kept your promises. You moved closer to him, to hold his hand and look him in the eyes. “I would. I know this feeling too well.”

For one second you thought he was going to kiss you, and you were ready. The drumroll played, like it always did, when the first touch of two pairs of lips, unknown to each other, was close. But the drumroll was all you were going to get tonight. You kept staring at his beautiful mouth and how would it feel, when his lips meet yours. Infidelity has never been your thing and you would stay true to yourself, even when the chance was so tempting.

“Can you hold me?”, you asked, while avoiding his eyes. You felt pathetic for being so needy in front of a stranger, so you added: “Just for a while.”

John didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Instead, he just pulled you in arms and stroke your back.

The two of you felt all alone in this broken world, but right there you met and became friends. What a weird thing to happen.

[dat-town]

colour the world with you

Characters: Yeonjun & You

Genre: fluff

Setting: witch shop au

Summary: The crazy hair coloured guy working at the witch shop where your grandma has you run errands for her keeps getting on your nerves.

Words: 3.7k

Author’s note: title is from TXT’s Your Light

For @restlessmaknae​ to fill your holidays with colours, smiles and happiness.

You told yourself you weren't a believer. People talked about magic as if they had seen it happen but you were doubtful, even when your weak grandma asked you to get a potion for her. When doctors couldn't help, she always turned to alternative methods even though you thought just taking her pills could have helped her. But no, she insisted, put the money into your hands and told you to ask for Han halmeoni's usual. You gritted your teeth but despite not saying it, you were upset how people out there could take advantage of naive elders with their expensive fake herb drinks. Though, you knew better than anyone that arguing with your grandma wouldn't have led anywhere since she was just as stubborn as you. So you agreed with a smile and promised you would get the potion the next day.

Finding the shop called Magic Island – what an obnoxious name for real – was easier than you thought. Witchcraft wasn't hunted or looked down upon as it used to be but you really didn't expect to find it between a coffee shop and a bookstore. From outside it seemed like any other store with its glass windows though it was more colourful and lively than most due to the flowers by the door and the dreamcatcher on the door. You double checked the name and the address then tentatively pressed down on the handle.

As soon as you crossed the threshold, the smell of herbs and spices, burning candle scents and warmth hit you in waves. The whole place gave off a very soothing and welcoming vibe and while the interior was even more colourful than the outside, nothing stood out as much as the vivid blue hair of the guy behind the counter.

"Hello, how can I help you?" he inquired, voice mellow and smile kind. The thin, light blue sweater he wore showed a bit of one of his collarbones and the dangling earring he had in one ear had small blue stones in it. You felt like you had never seen anybody like him.

"I came to pick up something for my grandma, Han halmeoni's usual potion," you recited the rehearsed speech before you could have blurted out something rude. At the mention of your granny, the cashier boy's eyes lit up and he smiled wider.

"Ah, just a minute," he excused himself and leaned down, opening small cabinets full of folies and cans under the counter until he found the glass of the thick green liquid. "Is halmeoni alright though? Has her knee been acting up again?" he asked while he rang up the product and you shouldn't have been surprised that your grandma probably told him about all her life.

"It's her waist this time," you said curtly, wanting to get over the payment as soon as possible. But even after the machine beeped accepting your credit card, the boy with his crazy hair switched on his employee of the mouth smile and kept you there with his rambling:

"It seems like you're quite stressed and anxious recently. Wouldn't you like some chamomile-lavender tea? Or we have a peppermint-citrus cream for headaches, too or–"

"I'm fine," you cut him off not too nicely. Argh... you hated when cashiers were so noisy and he even acted like he knew you just because you weren't in a good mood today but that had nothing to do with your usual exam stress. He couldn't have known about that anyway. And as if some cream would have helped!

The next time you saw the boy he had yellow locks. The unnatural, bright yellow like the fermented radish you liked so much with your traditional Korean dishes. Of course, you didn't go to his shop out of boredom or happiness but for your grandmother's sake you didn't want her to travel across half the city just to get her favourite tea leaves for better digestion. It had been about two months since you had visited the colourful shop, so the changes shouldn't have taken you so aback – after all every shop was usually decorated according to the season – and yet, for a moment you just stood there in the bright warmth of the sunlit room full of buttercups and sunflowers. It almost seemed like the same cashier guy as last time had a hair colour to fit the enterieur but that sounded a bit too ridiculous. Who would have dyed their hair because of their workplace's new decoration? Though who worked at a witch shop in the first place?

"Hi! How can I help you today?" the boy, Yeonjun according to his name tag, flashed a beaming smile at you. He seemed really giddy all the time, maybe being surrounded by all these herbs all day long did something to his brain… or maybe got him high.

"I would like to have a packet of Island of Calm tea," you told him straight, wanting to make it a real quick in and out.

"Ah, for your grandma? I'm glad it helps her," the boy smiled at you sweetly and started humming an annoyingly cheerful song while preparing the packet neatly. He wrapped it up, put on a sticker with good wishes before he would have turned to the cashier machine.

You had already prepared with your wallet but instead of letting you know the price, this Yeonjun guy decided to play with your nerves.

"Sorry about the other day if I came off too strong. We have amulets too if you prefer…"

You slammed down the money on the counter, grabbed the tea and turned to walk out on him before he could have finished that. But...

"It will rain today. Take an umbrella," he shouted after you which only made you snicker.

Hah, who was this guy? He should have minded his own business! The weather forecast didn't say anything about rain anyways.

"I'm fine," you bit at him and walked out.

It didn't even take 10 minutes though for you to get soaking wet in a sudden summer downpour. Under your breath you kept cursing the guy from the magic shop although he had nothing to do with the rain. He just had a good guess.

You really didn't want to go back to the shop. It gave you the chills, like that uneasiness in the stomach that made you want to throw up. You didn't want to go back because you didn't want to hear that crazy hair coloured guy's unwanted preaching about your stress level. You might have been a bit on the edge these days but you were okay, you could handle it. Even if you wished your group partners to Hell sometimes because they couldn't even answer your questions about the schedule and the presentation in your KKT group chat, even if your teacher was a pain in the ass moving the classes as he pleased as if you had nothing better to do. Even if an upcoming family gathering was unnerving you because you didn't want to hear them comparing you to your relatives. It was just a bad time, it would pass, you told yourself, nothing to whine about.

So you took a deep breath, list in hand and you raised your chin before you stepped inside the so-called magic shop. You planned ahead: going to the counter, handing over the list, pretending to get a phone call and leave. Easy and interaction-free. But the moment you stepped inside, the sight this time took your breath away.  You really didn't understand how and why the store changed its interior so drastically and so frequently but this look was even more breathtaking than the ones before.

The whole place had a pink hue, it even smelled like cotton candy and everything had this rosy colour from afar. The ceiling looked like a pink sky with white cloud decorations made of cotton. The dreamcatchers and amulets hanging down all sparkled in the shade of blue hour and you forgot why you came for a moment.

"Pretty, isn't it?" A voice spoke up from beside you and only then you realised that the cashier boy wasn't behind the counter like usual but instead he was walking between the shelves in the book section, holding a few volumes in his arms. You jumped at his sudden closeness, blinking up at him surprised and it took you a moment too long to process what you had been seeing.

The guy had bright pink hair.

And it looked strangely good on him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned and only then you realised that you had been staring. At the way his locks looked against his tanned forehead. At the way he pulled his mouth into a gentle smile and suddenly you felt like the air was getting sucked out of your lungs. What the hell were you doing? Why did he suddenly have such an effect on you?

"Yeah, I'm fine," you muttered, clearing your throat, stepping away.

You walked up to the counter confidently and the boy didn't try to stop you. He didn't say anything, not even as he followed you and took your paper with the list your grandma suddenly needed after you complained to her about the nosy guy in the shop. He prepared the small box with different herbs, creams and lucky charms wordlessly which was a bit unsettling. You only met him twice before yet it seemed like it was out of character for him. But you tried not to think too much into it and just watched him work.

When Yeonjun read your total out loud for you and you handed your card to him there was something knowing in his eyes that you couldn't quite put a finger on.

"You know you should really stop saying you're fine when you aren't," he spoke up finally when he gave you back the plastic but instead of letting it go, he looked down on your hand intently. Not understanding the reason behind it you followed his gaze and saw that you managed to cut your finger earlier with the paper when you got startled. You didn't even feel it up until then even though it drew a bit of blood, a few drops drying on your index finger.

"Let me," the boy muttered as he let go and looked around on a shelf not far from the counter.

"It's nothing really," you protested but you felt bad because he shouldn't have been worried about you just because it was him who got you scared. You should have paid more attention.

"It could get infected," he reasoned as he got back with some lotion in a small capsule. He took your hand, gentle and you realised that his hands were soft despite the calluses on his fingertips. Not to mention, it was endearing how attentive he was, even sticking out his tongue a bit in concentration as he put a plaster over the oil-coated wound.

"Thanks," you breathed not really knowing what else you could say and you couldn't even anymore, not with the way he smiled at you, warm like the Sun and soothing like spring breezes.

As you were leaving you couldn't help but think that the way he said those words about you pretending to be okay was about more than just your scar. Maybe he had a great sense for such things.

It was not until you got home that you noticed the extra object in the packet you bought at the shop. You even double-checked with your grandma's list but a scent bag of herbs for better sleeping weren't on that and you didn't even pay for that, so how?

The answer was ridiculously easy: the cashier guy must have sneaked it into your bag, yet you didn't get his reason and why he always tried to have a say in your life but then you looked down on the cute pink plaster on your finger and decided to accept the gift. Even though you didn't believe in it, you put it under your pillow for the night like you were instructed. You almost forgot about it because by the time it was bedtime for you your head was full of unnecessary drama and thoughts that were driving you crazy. On nights like this it was hard to fall asleep because you had too many what ifs going on inside of your head. But this time, even before you could have realised it, you were already drifting off to sleep, tense shoulders relaxing, head empty. You didn't remember when you last slept so well.

So maybe it was confusion, gratitude or the mix of those two that led you back to the Magic Island only a few days later, this time without your grandma having to make you. This time you were expecting the change of interior, so the universe-like violet colours and planets flying around (must be some kind of trick) didn't take you that aback. Yeonjun was nowhere to be seen even though the bells rang prettily above the door when you arrived.

For once, you decided to take a look around, so tentatively you wandered deeper into the store, into parts you hadn't been before. You had seen tarot cards in one corner and Ouija boards in another, there were books about ghosts and other dimensions. There was a whole section about curses and a closed off one for potions. You were reading some of the ridiculously long tea names (and why does The night when the world has burned, we are… has chilli in it anyways?) when you heard someone clear their throat. You turned around to face them but your hello died on the tip of your tongue.

Now Yeonjun's hair was purple, that dark but warm kind, like nights on which the sky seemed to embrace you.

"Does halmeoni need something else?" he looked up at you with a genuine, kind smile.

"No, I... Actually I just wanted to thank you for the scent bag," you muttered under your nose, a bit embarrassed but determined to be a bigger person and not act petty over an act of kindness.

"Did it help?" Yeonjun's eyes lit up immediately, straight up happily when you nodded. The smile on his face widened. "Then you're welcome."

You just stood there, uncertain, not knowing what to say or do because apparently he was well aware that he gifted you that and it seemed like he didn't expect anything in return. Not to mention that he figured out that you barely had any sleep lately and cinnamon was one of your favourite scents. Was it just a coincidence? Or did the bags under your eyes betray you like that? Was cinnamon just a lucky guess?

"How did you know?" you blurted out eventually, not getting over your internal struggle. For a moment Yeonjun just looked at you, really looked as if he tried to figure you out and he was rather tentative when he spoke up:

"You don't believe in magic, do you?"

You raised an eyebrow as if asking: seriously? at which he let out a chuckle. His laughter made such a pleasant sound!

"Well, then you could say it was just a good hunch," he shrugged and his carefree attitude made you even more curious, throwing you more recklessly into the unknown.

"And if I said I believe in it?" you wondered out loud and the cashier guy looked back at you as if it was a challenge. Maybe it was since you were interested in how he would try to convince you about magic being real.

"It's your aura," he said simply, looking at you and at the same time around you and started explaining:  "It has a different energy based on your mood and well-being. It wasn't that hard to figure out based on that."

You hummed, trying to see whether your rational mind could take it as an answer but even auras and halos and such seemed too... intangible for you. Yeonjun must have sensed your hesitance because a moment later he straightened his back and tilted his head.

"It's easier to show you," he offered, waiting, patient. He must have learned that being pushy with you didn't work because the more he insisted, the more you resisted. But putting it this way: him offering a chance for you to see and believe but with no pressure, it made you halt. Because all your life you had liked certain things. You liked plans, schedules, believing in things you saw or experienced. Maybe that's why magic had always been obnoxious for you: you had met with too many liars and fakes.

You slowly, tentatively nodded.

"Close your eyes," Yeonjun smiled at you encouragingly and albeit not liking the idea of becoming vulnerable even this much, you obeyed.  About five seconds passed before the boy called your name. "You can open them."

Not expecting any big change, you were at a loss of words when Yeonjun stood in front of you with silver grey hair. And not just that! The shop's interior changed in a blink of a minute, too. It was no longer purple but rather monochrome, serious, angular.

"How?" you gasped in awe.

"Magic," Yeonjun smiled and laughed at you before explaining that his mother was a witch, so he's partly one too and that the shop is enchanted, changing based on his mood or will, similarly as his hair colour. It was still unbelievable but you couldn't deny the obvious, so instead of protesting against it anymore, you threw your dozen questions at the boy to which he answered very enthusiastically.

After that afternoon, you slowly started to become a regular at Magic Island. Not only when your grandma had an errand to run but you visited the shop even when you got tired of your scent bag's type or due to another excuse. It was easy to come up with those when you had so many questions. With Yeonjun by your side guiding you through a whole new world opened up in front of you. After your uni classes, you sometimes dropped by to read a book between the shelves about auras and the harmony with nature or potions that actually worked until Yeonjun found you there. Sometimes he called you out on never buying the books but it was only a friendly, teasing banter that ended up with him inviting you over for some herb tea matching your mood (a lot of sweet strawberry and rose mint lately). On other occasions, he joined you on the floor, leaning his back onto the bookshelf too, his arm almost brushing yours as he asked about what you were currently reading about.

He also told you a lot of fun stories and while chuckling over his jokes your stomach didn't ache only due to laughter. You hated to call this feeling as 'butterflies in your stomach' but you had no better word for it and being so good at reading your aura, Yeonjun must have known, too. Yet, he didn't say anything, so you decided to take matters into your hands.

When you opened the door of the magic store on that chilly December afternoon after finally finishing with your exams before winter break, the first thing that hit you was the cinnamon and plum scent. You inhaled deeply and smiled at the Christmassy atmosphere inside the store with the festive decoration. Yeonjun must have had the holiday spirit these days, you thought and it seemed like right because the boy walked out of the storage room in a cute snowman sweater and with faded lavender coloured hair.

"Heya, how was the exam?" he turned to you with a bright smile which you couldn't help but mimic as you walked up to the other side of the counter.

"Manageable," you shrugged, happy that you were finally done with it. Then before you could have chickened out during your conversation, you blurted out: "Do you perhaps have the opposite of love potions?"

"Like an antiserum? Did someone give you a love potion?" Yeonjun wiggled his eyebrows but his tone was kind of worried. Cute, you noted.

"No but I'd like this stupid crush gone," you sighed and even grimaced for impact, watching the boy's reaction closely but he seemed more curious and a bit confused than anything.

"Why?"

"I just..." You vaguely threw your hands up and pouted which Yeonjun must have found endearing because the mischievousness was back in his glittering dark eyes and the smirk was on his lips again as he leaned provocatively closer.

"And if I like you back?" he raised an eyebrow and the confidence in his voice made your jaw drop.

The audacity!

"I'm not talking about you!" you retorted right away but more out of pride and teasing than honesty. You couldn't hide that too well from the witch boy either as his grin only widened seeing your blushed cheeks.

"Too bad," he snickered playfully, his lower lip jutting out in a sulky pout. Then he pulled back in an instant, brushing his lavender hair out of his eyes with an overdramatic sigh. "And I was about to suggest a hot chocolate date..."

"A date you say?" you breathed with a hopeful smile and rested your palms on the counter while this time it was you who leaned closer. Not that it meant a lot because with Yeonjun's height, you just had to angle your neck even more sharply. At least until he decided to scrunch down to your level, dark orbs glimmering in the colourful lights of the shop.

"That I say," he nodded and briefly looked up prompting you to do the same only to see a white mistletoe slowly growing and hanging down above you.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, mister," you flicked his forehead but giggled anyway knowing all too well that your aura must have been just as pink as your cheeks. But you didn't mind one bit, not until it was Yeonjun who made your world so colourful.

[fific7]

Dangerous and Divine - Part 5

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon except for a few random points mentioned this time. It’s mainly fluff, lemon zest 🍋 and a bit of angst. There’s also some Billy POV in there. The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: Some drinking & swearing.

(My GIF)

A grin curved his lips upwards, “How d’you like your eggs in the mornin’, ma’am?”

“Over easy,” you grinned back. He tapped his shoulder a couple of times with the kitchen spoon, “Ummm.. how about scrambled? And then I’ll give you the “over easy” version afterwards.”

That damn smirk of his, you thought, it’s downright dangerous.

The two of you were sitting at your kitchen island, eating breakfast. The scrambled eggs were really tasty, you complimented him. He’d preened a little, “I’m quite a good cook, sweetheart,” he said, “learned how to look after myself quite early on in life.”

Suddenly he put his fork down, and looked over at you. His face was serious, and you saw some sadness in his eyes. “My mother abandoned me when I was a really young kid. She was a junkie, and couldn’t look after herself never mind me, so I suppose I should thank her. I’d probably be dead otherwise. Got put in a group home, stayed there until I aged out and went straight into the Marines. And got my degree on the government’s dime.”

Your hand moved to cover his, “Billy, you’ve done so well, and you’ve achieved it all on your own. I’m proud of you, and I hope you’re proud of yourself too.” He beamed at you, eyes crinkling at the corners, “Yeah... yeah, I am. Thanks, angel, I appreciate you sayin’ that. I wanted to tell you about it, wanted to be honest with you. In case when you saw the suits, the car, the penthouse and all, you thought I was some kind of privileged trust fund kid.”

He looked down, “There’s a stigma about growin’ up in the system, y’know? I wanted to get it out on the table so you know who I really am and where I came from.”

“I don’t care about that, Billy.” He nodded, thumb stroking your hand which was still on top of his. “I really hoped that you wouldn’t ... but I wanted to be sure, and I’m really glad you feel like that. Also I needed you to know that I’m bein’ honest with you.”

You thought you saw a closed-off look on his face for a moment, but then it was gone and he smiled over at you.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You had spent the rest of Sunday together, lazing around, watching various shows on Netflix before venturing out for a late lunch to a local diner. Billy had eventually headed home after another steamy session in the bedroom, regretful about not spending the night, sighing that he had a really early start in the morning, a ‘job’ he couldn’t tell you anything about.

He’d explained a bit more about his work earlier in the day while you were eating in the diner. How a lot of it was classified as it was military or political in nature, so he couldn’t go into detail. You’d nodded, and said you understood. But you’d asked some questions nevertheless; how many of the assignments did he go on himself, just how dangerous they were, had he or his men ever been injured.

You got the impression that, although he couldn’t tell you much about who was involved or why they needed protection details, he was pleased you were showing an interest in his work.

The two of you agreed that you’d meet up during the week, Billy saying he’d text you to confirm when and where as he wasn’t sure how long this job would last, maybe at least a couple of days.

He’d insisted on putting his numbers into your phone himself, so you’d unlocked it and handed it to him, wandering back to your bedroom to put some more clothes on. Shortly afterwards he’d kissed you long and hard and made his way downstairs to his car, and you’d watched from your balcony as he drove away. Then you’d laughed at yourself - you were acting like some medieval damsel watching her knight disappear off to war or something.

Sliding the glass door closed, you went to the fridge to pull out a bottle of wine. The apartment suddenly felt very empty without Billy in it. How quickly you’d got used to him being there.

You wandered across to the sofa with your newly-poured glass of wine, noticing your phone on the coffee table. Oh yeah, Billy had added his numbers. A sudden twinge of insecurity hit you. What if he hadn’t actually put his direct numbers in there, and just pretended to? You sat down, looking at it lying there. I mean, it wasn’t like you couldn’t track him down at Anvil, but you would no doubt have to go through a receptionist and you could be endlessly stone-walled.

You eventually picked up the phone and unlocked it. Scrolling to your contacts, you suddenly burst out laughing. Billy had put his numbers in there and had also taken a selfie, him smouldering into the camera. He’d attached it to the contact details with a description.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy drove away from her apartment, truly wishing he could’ve stayed over again.

But then he’d shaken his head slightly, laughing to himself; she’d definitely got one thing right - he was a big sap. Since when did he find himself almost playing house with a woman? Telling her she was his girlfriend - as she’d put it - after five minutes? He was a one-and-done kinda guy!

But then Billy Russo admitted to himself that something had hit him smack in the heart when he’d first seen her, sitting there looking stunning and somehow fragile with that creep trying to come onto her. Well turns out she wasn’t fragile in the least! However when those beautiful eyes had met his... well, he was a goner. Solid gone. And then he’d pursued her like a lovestruck idiot.

He hadn’t ever seriously thought about love. Or believed in it, for that matter. Certainly not when he’d been bedding all those women when he’d been on leave or since he’d left the Marines. All that shit just wasn’t for him. And now? Yeah, not so sure.

Billy almost felt like he was under some kind of spell, it had hit him so quickly. Yeah, like she’d enchanted him or something ridiculous, straight out of a Disney or Harry Potter movie. Was this love, then? His stomach clenched every time he saw her, he just couldn’t stop thinking about her, wanted to be with her all the time, hell he was even jealous of Jake though he wasn’t a threat. Was he? No, surely not. And what about Steve, the other one? Yeah, there he was doing it again - unreasonable jealousy.

And when they’d first slept together, he felt like he’d finally understood what making love meant.

Billy Russo, who until a few days ago had spent most of his leisure time in life actively fucking women - how he’d always described it to himself and others - was now a confirmed big sap. He chuckled to himself.

He suddenly remembered ripping the shit out of a young Marine in his squad who’d come back off leave totally besotted with some girl. The kid had confessed (stupid move) to all the guys that they’d made love, a distant and dreamy look in his eyes. At the time, Billy had scoffed at him and endlessly humiliated him about it. In an affectionate way of course, he told himself.

But he felt guilty about that. Who’s the one with the distant and dreamy gaze now, Russo?

In all truth, Billy felt like he was having some kind of out of body experience. As if Previous Billy Russo was looking down in horror at his new self, yelling at him to get his fucking head back on straight. But New Billy Russo wasn’t listening because, well because he realised he liked feeling this way.

And he thought that she felt the same. He knew she was fighting it and wouldn’t admit anything to him, but there were little tells that had given her away. He decided he’d stay on his best behaviour, just keep trying to win her over, and he felt in his bones that they would be together.

But he did feel a sting of guilt. He had been honest with her, but he’d also been selective with what he’d told her about Anvil, how it all started, and this ongoing shit he and Frank were still embroiled in. One day... one day, and hopefully soon, he could tell her absolutely everything.

His phone, clipped to the dash, vibrated.

He rolled his eyes when he saw the caller ID, hit the button and answered it.

“Dinah... what can I do for you?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You, meanwhile, had just finished your second glass of wine and were admitting to yourself that you were really missing Billy. Oh this is bad, your brain yelled at you, very bad. You’d only known this guy for a few days and you were falling for him. Or - okay - had already fallen for him. It scared you, quite honestly.

He was charming, funny, handsome, sexy. An amazing lover. He’d been disarmingly honest with you about his past, but... but what? Why was there a ‘but’? Because there was something niggling at the back of your mind. Just a couple of expressions you’d seen on his face, quickly gone. An indication of more happening just underneath the surface than you knew about. Billy had a distinct air of danger about him, and you wondered what else was going on inside that dark head of his.

You’d fallen for him, yes... but you were also going to remain wary of him, until you were certain you knew everything you could about him.

Reaching over and pulling your laptop towards you across the coffee table, you typed Billy’s name into Google.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The next morning, Billy parked his car and walked into Anvil. His reception staff wished him a respectful Good Morning, he nodded to them and headed upstairs to his office. Frank was already there, reading a newspaper.

“Mornin’ Bill,” he said, looking up. “Frankie,” nodded Billy, “want a coffee?” and kept on walking towards the coffee machine in the corner. “Nah, just had one, thanks.”

He poured out an Americano for himself, then chuckled loudly. Frank quirked an eyebrow at him, and Billy shrugged back. “I met someone last week. She owns two cafés, and she’s a coffee snob. Gonna refine my palate, she said.”

Frank looked back down to his paper before commenting, “I’m impressed you know that much about her, Bill. Didn’t think you bothered cos you usually cut & run.” Billy smirked, knowing he couldn’t dispute what Frank had just said, but he was going to enjoy the next slice of the conversation. Even just to see the expression on Frank’s face.

“I....like her. A lot. I want something with her.” “Something?” Frank chortled, “...you mean, like a relationship, Bill?” He looked closely at Billy, saw the shit-eating grin he had on his face and his jaw dropped. “You do, don’t you?! Fuckin’ hell! Never thought I’d see the day, Russo.” Billy burst out laughing.

“Well, that makes two of us, Frankie. But...” he spread his hands out to either side of him, “...it is what it is. And I’ll fill you in on all the details later. Now, this thing with Madani and Homeland - let’s get it nailed down.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

That same morning, you sat at your desk and slowly twirled from side to side in your chair. You sipped your cappuccino, and thought about Billy.

Little cousin had done you a favour this time and earlier on had delved into her company’s database, digging out some further information on Billy and Anvil which Google couldn’t provide you with. All it had given you was the bare minimum of the company’s founding date and numerous photos of Billy looking hot in his designer suits.

She told you she’d heard of him, and had also seen him at several events similar to the one you’d attended. You’d admitted you were seeing him, and she’d firstly screeched down the phone at you, nearly bursting your eardrum, before saying, “Now see, if you hadn’t gone in my place you wouldn’t have met him!” “Yeah, yeah, alright. Tell me what you’ve got for me.”

In a more serious tone, she said, “Just be careful though, his company seems a little... well, shady let’s just say. I mean, in the security business,” her voice lowered, “there’s usually some dodgy dealings or other going on. But him and his colleagues seem to have got themselves in some deep water with two federal agencies. I’ll email this stuff to you now and you’ll see what I mean.” You thanked her and hung up before she could tell you that now you owed her another favour.

You’d read through the attachments she’d sent you, and your eyes had got wide as you read that Billy and Anvil had originally been funded by a shadowy CIA guy, who’d then been killed in a gun battle between un-named protagonists. You sussed out that Anvil must’ve been one of those involved, as Billy and his friend Frank had been arrested and interrogated by Homeland Security before being released without charge. That struck you as a bit odd, but there were no more details available.

Your phone had chosen that moment to buzz with a FaceTime call from the man himself. You’d hesitated then accepted the call, and Billy’s handsome face popped up in front of you, with a wide smile plastered on it. You could see he was in his car. “Mornin’, sweetheart,” he said in a low sexy voice, and you felt your stomach tighten with excitement. This guy... the effect he had on you....!

You’d smiled and replied, “Morning, Billy.” He tilted his head towards you, dark eyes drawing you in, “Missin’ me? Because I’m missing you.” Shaking your head, smirking, you said, “We only saw each other a few hours ago so no, I’m not.” A cheeky grin from him this time, “Don’t believe you, angel, I think you can’t wait to see me again.” “You’re such a cocky bastard, Billy,” you laughed, “Why are you calling, exactly?”

His smile was a genuine one as he said, “I just wanted to see you before I head off to this job. Not sure when I’ll be able to call next. Remember - I’ll let you know as soon as I can when we can meet up this week.” You nodded, “Yeah, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.” He blew you a kiss, saying “Bye, angel,” before he rang off.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

One of your friends had called shortly afterwards to ask if you wanted to meet up for lunch, as you hadn’t seen each other in quite a while. Deciding that you could do with some girl time, you arranged to meet her in a steak house near the Chrysler Building, and then decided you’d better get some work done before you headed out for your long lunch hour.

The two of you had met up just outside the restaurant and had gone in chatting away to each other. Being shown to your table, you sat down only to spot Billy Russo walking in behind a small dark-haired woman. Your mouth dropped open, and your eyes took in every detail of her. She was pretty, with big dark eyes, olive skin and wavy hair in a shoulder-length bob. Billy, you noted, had his hand on her lower back, guiding her to their table, just as he had with you when you went for your first drink with him.

You leant forward to your friend, “I’m so sorry about this but we’re gonna have to go somewhere else.” She looked concerned, “What’s wrong?” “Someone I need to avoid just came in,” you explained, “c’mon, I’ll tell them I’ve had an emergency at work or something.” You both stood up, and you fled from the restaurant before you repeated your actions at that house party, which had got you arrested. You didn’t want to end up in jail this time just because of that jerk and his little lady.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy looked up as two women who’d been sitting near him stood up and started rushing towards the door. Weird, he thought, they hadn’t even been served judging by the menus still laying on their place settings. He looked back at them, and one of them turned back briefly to her friend behind her as they exited the premises.

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. It was her. His angel. Oh fuck! Did she..? Yes, she must’ve seen him and... he glanced at Madani across the table from him, reading through the menu choices. She glanced up, smirking at Billy but it quickly dropped off her face, when she saw the expression on his.

“Billy?” she said, but he’d dumped his napkin onto his plate by now and was standing up.

“Sorry, Dinah... I gotta go.” An annoyed look on her face, she growled, “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not. I... there’s someone I gotta catch up with, and I just saw them leaving.” He walked away from their table, and towards the door of the restaurant. As he did so he heard Madani say in a harsh voice, “Is it a woman, Russo?” but ignored her.

He made it out onto the street, looking around him in all directions, heart sinking as he couldn’t see her anywhere.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Feral Fatality

(Part 1)

So this has been in my works for a week now. You see, it was a typical day for me scrolling through Tumblr and visiting some....tags, and then a short drabble inspired me to write about a feral reader totally not because I was craving violence and murder no, which reached more than 4k words on the first draft so here we are! Shitty title, I know. The proofread work went over 7k, and it's not even finished yet. Once I'm done posting this and my main orc fic, I will get into the requests so please be patient!

Pairing: Jason Voorhees x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Brief blood and violence at the end of the first part

Contains: Swearing, mentions of neglect and abuse (not graphic)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

-

Screams slit through the twilight as the frigid autumn wind blew harshly through the trees of Camp Crystal Lake. The rustling of bushes and cracking of twigs echoed as foolish teenagers attempted to escape, running for their lives when they were the ones who dared step foot in the place, tarnishing it with their sins.

Jason Voorhees, the innocent kid who died several years ago; pushed to the lake by his bullies and left to drown for being different and unsightly— all because the counselors were busy with their fucking business—, returned as an undead killing machine right after his mother murdered them and died. His sole purpose: to protect the land and purge the people who had no right to be here, sentencing them to a horrendous death.

One by one, they struck the ground, lifeless, either chopped into pieces, beheaded, or stabbed countless times by his trusty machete.

Limbs...ripped off with his bare hands.

-

The muffled snapping of branches reached your ears as the vehicle's wheels ran over them, stirring you from your nap. You rubbed your chilled skin under your clothes as you looked out of the window, thumping your forehead on the glass when you leaned forward the moment you saw the scenery. Trees, both ancient and young, their leaves varying in hues of green, orange and red, filled your line of sight. It was still early in autumn, your favorite time of the year, not hot but not too cold either. You watched in awe as the warm-colored leaves cascaded down from the branches and down to the ground, some carried by the wind farther from their origin.

The view did its best to distract you from a couple in session a seat before yours. They always seem to do that all the time, regardless of place or occasion.

This was a week-long getaway after graduation, they said.

Nothing but a white lie.

An excuse for the girls to hook up with their campus crushes, a week of fucking and smoking drugs.

You, however, just got invited —forced— by your "friend" Eloiza, the self-proclaimed hottest girl in the entire school, typical captain of the cheerleading squad; blonde and curvy. Her words were much too sugar-coated that even a deaf person could tell she had ulterior motives.

She only planned to use you as a tool to raise her fame. A stepping stone for her own gain.

That wasn't the only reason though.

Everyone knew who you were, but only by your name. News and rumors alike spread like wildfire through gossipy mouths. Your deeds were known throughout campus.

(Y/N)(L/N), top academic competitor and multiple-award winner, a straight-A student for five years in succession. Some believed you were a genius, the rest called you insane.

You wouldn't call yourself a genius though, you did not possess the obsessive need to acquire eternal knowledge and discover the secrets of the universe as most of them do, to effortlessly solve every problem that comes their way.

If that were the case, then you wouldn't be here in the first place.

You only love learning and indulging in the beauty of Mother Nature, plus a handful of hyper-fixations.

Fine, a buttload of hyper-fixations. And such came in handy in various situations.

You were unrivaled, not one of your peers could come close to your level of wit. Many people wished to have a brain like yours, and just as many hated you for even having one, praised you just as much as slandered your name and judged you.

Despite your reputation, the poor school didn't broadcast it, at least every time. The staff probably got tired of repeating the same phrase over and over again. Which caused more than half of the whole campus to never believe you to be the one behind all of that, laughing at your face when you said your name.

"You? The (Y/N) (L/N)? Ha! As if I'd fall for that! Everyone knows how she looks. You're the absolute opposite!"

"You got to be kidding me."

"You're a joker, aren't you? Is this a prank? If so please stop it, don't pretend like you're her."

Yep, and it goes on and on and on. They were right, you didn't look like someone who would win contests or excel in class.

You constantly wore clothes that hid your form, silent unless spoken to or asked to answer, distant and reserved, you preferred the company of books and nature to the rowdiness and prying hands of humans. A sociopath they deemed you. Quite an extreme word to use when you simply wanted to enjoy the only things that made you happy in this living hell.

You only know a handful of people who approached you first-hand and praised you genuinely, even asking for an autograph, which really surprised you.

Yet, they would never understand you even if you explained, because you can't, words evade you when it comes down to voice out what you feel. Even if you can, no one would care. And even if they did? You doubt it was real. Everyone wants to use you, and they seem to believe you'd let them. You didn't trust anyone. The last time you did only left you sobbing on the dirt.

You wanted to be left alone.

To connect with nature and get as far away as possible from your parents. Parents who kept shouting profanities at each other, the main cause for your depression and anxiety levels to skyrocket, the shaking turning into trembling, 7 hours of sleep to barely a blink.

That's why you agreed to go in the first place.

You hated your household—despised it— a mess of broken shards of bottles and ceramics littered your kitchen floor more often than not. You didn't bother cleaning it up anymore, your mother would just waste away her money on more things to break and throw them at your joke of a father when they fought anyway.

Not only that, you thought...No, you believed if you worked hard to be the best and win countless competitions, your parents would give you recognition and reconcile for your sake, but no, no, no. They didn't care one bit about you or your medals, it was as if you were never even included in their lives at all. Even birthday celebrations ceased to exist in everyone's books after your 13th.

So you gave up.

Down into the void, your wishful thinking went, that they'll become better people over time, that the attention and love you deserve will be given one day. Instead, you wallowed yourself in your studies, besting everyone in everything academic. Oh, but you weren't athletic. Far from it. Damn, you were getting thin and sleep-deprived from being neglected, dark circles under your eyes every time you looked at your reflection. People hating your existence wasn't helping, some teachers even suspected you of cheating.

There's no way in hell you'd let yourself get dragged down to end up like them! You were of legal age now, a fresh graduate from high school, you doubt your parents even knew that since they didn't fucking show up on your graduation day. You were moving out of that shithole of a town. Anywhere is better than where they breathed and spat their poison.

And so here you are. Standing in this breath-taking and mysterious place. Camp Crystal Lake, it is named, secluded, barely touched by modernization as it is hidden between mountains and trees as far as the eye could see. Not to mention its namesake, the lake, you imagined it would mirror the sky, be it day or night. You loved it, you adored the fresh, breathable air that went through you the moment you stepped out of the van.

You also knew about him.

Resolved to never go back to that goddamned house, you took everything you had and needed; the special little trinkets you've collected through the years shoved into a box, the few clothes you had, art materials, and your precious books carefully packed inside a big travel bag, along with your stocked up canned goods, convenience food, snacks, and toiletries.

And other, important things.

You hauled your baggage out of the van and got off, immediately moving to the side and away from everyone.

You got used to people ignoring you that you didn't care anymore.

Why waste your time with them when you can have all of it to yourself?

Eloiza led the group into the larger cabins, the others went straight into the lake for a swim. You even notice some teens disappear into the trees, most likely for a quickie.

In return, you stayed out of their way, fully satisfied being invisible and with your own company as you trudged to a cabin, the one you caught a glimpse of earlier in the van. It was a long way's separated from the rest, closest to the forest and hidden behind a few trees.

You were panting when you finally stopped in front of it, clearly not used to walking long distances and carrying stuff near as heavy as your weight.

Upon closer inspection, you found yourself gaping at its appearance. The wooden walls lost their color as they aged, white and brown mushrooms grew on the ground along with green moss sticking to the beams, and a few vines crawling their way up and on the roof. Despite all of that, the cabin looked sturdy still.

There's this "one with nature" vibe that drew you to it, like a string pulling you closer and inviting you. Ominous most would say, but you almost cried when the rich scent of earth and oxygen filled your lungs as you took one big inhale, sighing in content for once. It was a lot smaller compared to the others, but you didn't care. As long as you were left alone with your stuff you were a-okay.

Perfect.

You turned the knob and peeked inside, letting out a small gasp and opening the door wider to see the whole thing.

Old as it is, it was proper and neat, regardless of the tiny cobwebs on the upper corners. A small, square dining table sat in the middle of the first part of the place, two wooden stools placed underneath. There were cupboards on the wall and a simple sink with an empty space to the side. You went to the next room, doorless and separated with but a wall of thick plywood. It had a single bed in the corner, off-white cotton sheets sitting atop, not a wrinkle in sight. No pillow though. There's a decent-sized closet along with a small table on one side of the bed. One of the windows had a hole in the middle, a ray of sunlight streaming in through the cracks. It was too big for the size of a gunshot, so maybe a rock.

A bit hesitant, your fingers traced the wood, feeling the inconsistent texture. When you went through the back door, your smile reached your ears when trunks of trees and bushes greeted you...

Wait, is that what you think it is?

Stepping closer to the treeline, your jaw dropped when you spotted a thicket of fruit-bearing plants past them, gathered in a tiny clearing.

Blueberries.

Purple little cuties poked out of the green shrubs, sporting a vibrant hue that caught your eye. The sun shone overhead and providing the energy they needed. Blueberries managed to grow in the area despite the trees fencing them.

Tempted and suspicious, you crouched down, inspecting the shrub if it really was a blueberry plant and not a deadly doppelganger. Once you were sure it was, (it would be hilarious if you simply died from nighshade poisoning), you plucked one and brought it to your mouth. It was sweeter than you expected, with a slightly bitter aftertaste. You hummed in delight, wiping the juice with your thumb when it dribbled out, staining your finger and lips.

You didn't want to anger anybody. Hell, coming here was already trespassing, so you didn't push your luck and left it alone, hoping they'd forgive you for picking one. They surely didn't look wild with the way they lined up.

You scanned the rest of the area, eventually going back inside to unpack after your little evaluation.

-

The sun was a hand's away from setting when you finished. Pride swelled in your chest at the work you did, your things stocked and organized with care inside the cabinets and drawers. You won't have to worry about your food for now as cupboards were filled to the brim with them. You also had a decent amount of money left from your savings account that your parents weren't aware of. Prize money, allowance, and the salary you got from doing online jobs all went into it. The camp was a few miles off the road, and a couple more to the nearest gas station with a convenience store. Very far yes, but it's better than living with the people who made you do this in the first place.

You just hoped you wouldn't die walking.

Everything was worth it, anyways. You were free now, at least that's what you think.

You trudged to the bed, eyeing the cushions, wary and a little scared to touch the sheets that appeared to be cleaned just recently, you didn't even lay a finger on them ever since you got inside. Oh, but your tired muscles were screaming to just flump down and relax.

So you did.

You dumped yourself face first and inhaled. It wasn't smelly nor fragrant, just the simple freshness on the cotton fabric. You felt beat but ain't sleepy, yet, so you reached to the drawer beside the bed and pulled out a book to pass the time as you waited for the sun to go down and give way for the moon. Its spine and pages had creases, worn out and yellow-stained from age and use. It was a horror-mystery novel told through a first-person narrative, a story of a middle-aged detective and her Maine coon in their attempts to solve a murder case of a young European lady named Cassandra Chase.

You dozed off in the middle of chapter 21, the part where Dinnie, the cat, discovers a valuable clue to the crime, a rotten limb in the dried basement well.

—

—

Jason settled down on the stairs of his porch; shoulders relaxed and hunched as he leisurely sharpened his machete with a small whetstone. Lines of sunlight kissed him through the leaves of trees, the birds in the area chirped on their perches, and the grass swayed, gentle, as a cool wind passed by.

His day be so fine. No troublemakers to deal wi—

The alarm rang, announcing unwelcomed arrival. As if a switch flipped inside, he's already on his feet, making his way swiftly to their location.

A new batch of wretched youngsters, another day ruined. Hunting them down makes his blood thrum in his veins, yes, but they soured his mood, just when he was at peace. He's dead set on slaughtering them in the most gruesome ways possible, only then he could go back and enjoy the serenity the nature around him brings.

He surveyed the area, camouflaging with the wilderness, silent as he watched and counted the soon-to-be corpses, his mother's voice at the back of his mind, guiding him.

They decided to go either to the main cabins, or the lake...even into the trees.

All but one.

Jason already planned to cut down the couple later as they lose themselves in the forest, doing nasty, dirty things to his camp. The killer shifted his attention to you, curious as to why you didn't join the lot. Instead, you walked back down the road. He followed and saw you approach the small cabin, separated from the rest, your eyes widened...

Adoration?

You were quiet— except for the little gasps of awe you let out in between pants—as you looked around and over the place. The ones you came with were rowdy and destructive, a complete opposite. He hid as he observed you from afar, moving around to adjust his vision on you. You smiled every time you looked to the trees, he noticed.

Why were you smiling like that? Why did you pick this cabin? Were you planning on defiling it?

The last question in his mind made his blood boil. He'll kill you first if that was the case. That cabin you chose was special, it was where he and his mother used to stay. He occasionally visits that one to keep it clean and free of dust. If you even think of—

Jason, sweetie...look closer. She does not have such intentions.

His mother's words rang in his head. Even from where he stood, he could see what you did inside. You looked a little hesitant, touching and drawing back your hand before letting your fingers feel the wood as if it was something delicate. Despite the initial...shyness? You proceeded to make it your home, somewhat, dropping the large duffel bags you carried on your front and back, and a similarly large roller case on your left. It was as if you planned to stay for a long time.

Jason hears you take a long breath and sigh as you went out the backdoor. You grinned wider when you saw the nature around you. You stepped forward, straight in his direction...

For a moment he thought you saw him, seeing your jaw drop. You moved closer, and he just froze there, until you crouched down.

Oh, his plants.

He watched you as you gently picked a fruit, your gaze...soft. You brought it to your mouth, some of the juice spilling on the side and you wiped it with your thumb.

Cute.

You went back inside and continued to unpack your things, carefully maneuvering around the cabin.

Maybe he'll spare you if you continue to be good. You didn't do anything dirty, yet. It's only a matter of time before the camp is shrouded in darkness and his hunt will begin.

Let's see what you'll do before that happens.

-

Jason tracked down the three that went into the forest. He knew the place like the back of his hand, and it was easier to pinpoint them as he heard moans.

What he saw was utmost disgusting, two girls pleasuring a male with their mouths in broad daylight.

Kill them, my boy! Such foul beings need to die! Kill them, kill!

He circled them, steps soundless. Jason gripped his machete and brought it down the guy's neck, embedding the weapon into the bark, the head rolled down, oozing with blood, and fell against the women, drenching them in red. Not a single cry left from their mouths as he sliced both with one swing, blood pouring out of their throats and staining the ground. Jason dragged their bodies and tossed them into a pit he dug beforehand, making quick work in burying them.

A swift end. Now he waits.

[universallywriting]

Steven/Connie double date (other couple your choice)

two in one

tw: recreational legal drug use (alcohol)

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

Steven still had a knack for embarrassing himself, despite being twenty-five and, in theory, well beyond his awkward teenager years. But he both lacked a filter and a fear of trying new things, which turned out to be the perfect combination for humiliation. All too often he shared personal information too easily, he tried new food and drinks that led to incredibly, embarrassing suffering, and regularly attempted physical stunts that left him with bruises on more than just his ego.

On the other hand, Connie had long ago transcended her childhood awkward stage. Somehow, she was a constant presence of unflappable poise, beauty, and wit. That was the kind of thing that happened when someone was preparing for a career in public speaking, and it could be a little annoying to have a partner so poised.

Except for the fact that he knew it was all a lie, and it was all too easy to knock her off her feet in the right situation.

“You’re painting again?” she asked Daniel over a dinner double date. “That’s amazing! I wish I could get back into my hobbies again.”

And he, one margarita in, put his head against hers to lovingly quip, “I wouldn’t called fifty thousand words of Sonic Boom fanfiction abandoning your hobbies.”

Daniel and Patricia cracked up immediately, and he could see the flustered looked on Connie’s face turn into giggles. Of course she wasn’t going to say anything - if she said nothing, there was a chance it could be a joke, and not that he had just outed her very real, ever-growing trove of fanfiction.

When the waiter swung by, he decided to get a double shot mojito, and a dish that was marked as spicy. It was a fun night, after all, and it took a lot to get him drunk.

And, as for spice, well… he was used to making a fool of himself. But he was absolutely going to drag her down with him if it was the last thing he did. Conversation continued as he took his drink fast, enjoying the odd burn that slipped from his throat to his belly - the beginning of a sleepy fuzziness starting to creep across his brain.

“Connie’s always been a nerd,” he remarked, grinning, because it was hilarious that everyone seemed to forget that but him. “No one notices because she’s so cool now, but she’s a huge nerd.”

“We’re all a little nerdy,” Patricia said. But he had vibes from that - the kind of vibes that said Patricia meant she watched sci-fi sometimes, or that she was very good at school.

“No,” he corrected. “I mean she’s a huge dork.”

Before he could see his wife’s face, the waiter slid by the table. Steven asked for another mojito and whatever look Connie had before is replaced with warning. “Should you?”

“Shouldn’t you?” he retorted, then beamed at the idea. “Can we get a long island iced tea?”

“Who’s going to drive?’ Connie said, and the waiter hovered by the table as he waited for them to settle it.

He waved his phone. “Rideshare.” He could tell that she was tempted. She rarely drank, but long island iced teas were her favorite. They were also very alcoholic, and she was very bad at alcohol. He said, with only the slightest bit of condescension in his tone, “Do you want wine? I know you’re a lightweight.”

She took it like a challenge, like he knew she would, and made up her mind straight away. She looked up at the waiter with her politician smile and said, “No, I want the tea. Thank you.”

She was a lightweight though, and he was quite happy with himself as he looked back at Patricia again. “I don’t mean that, like, Connie likes Star Voyage. I mean that Connie has an Eris account so she can fight about whether there’s a bias against interracial couples in fandom.”

“Well because there is,” she started, her temper went half-up just from the thought of it. But she took a breath and smiled and said, “But, you know politicians. We’re always politicizing everything.”

Boo! 

Boring. 

He tried not to pout, though he was pouting very hard in his mind as he ate his salad. Polished Connie was boring. Professional Connie was boring. Connie with her face on was amazing and wonderful and he loved the work she did but

he was already a little tipsy 

and she was boring. 

He was absolutely delighted when her tea came, and destroyed his mojito with a speed that made Patricia whistle. Connie was slower with her drink as she tried to maintain a normal conversation, but it was a heavy drink. It was her favorite drink.

It vanished, probably faster than she planned, and she ordered another because Daniel and Patricia were drinking too. Of course, he noted as he took a breather with an on-tap beer, the two of them could probably hold their liquor better than his love.

When his food came, he humiliated himself as he expected. His face went red. He felt sweat on his neck. He chugged water like he needed it to live. It was enough to get a giggle or two out of the other couple, and enough for his tipsy wife to regularly be overcome by them.

He was drunk but not drunk enough for walking to be a challenge. Perfect. He’d rather not look stupid if he wobbled on the way to the bathroom. In the meantime, Connie’s composure had plummeted down. Her voice was full of emphasis, exaggeration, excitement - the bubbly girl she kept under-wraps all too often.

Daniel was laughing. “Oh my god, are you serious? By the time you got to high school you were, like, full swan. We only knew you as sword girl.”

“And I worked very hard to cultivate that image,” she insisted, her words slightly blended together with delight and drink. “It’s a delicate balance. I leaned from Pearl. It’s about knowing what is and isn’t refined, and speaking only of the refined things.”

“Exactly,” Steven agreed, trying to sound properly Britishly posh. “We only speak of how compelling the draaaama was on Under the Knife, and never the fix fic you wrote because your favorite children’s book had too much kissing.”

There was laughter all around the table, Connie slipping down her chair as she giggled helplessly, shaking her head. “No! No that’s not why! You are taking-”

“Lisa says ‘you can’t fix an evil empire by kissing’, Connie! You made her say that!”

“This is bullshit! You are oversimplifying a complex situation to the point of no longer adding anything useful to the discussion!”

“That’s a meme!” Patricia cried. “That’s a seven year old copypasta!”

“Steven used to eat flour,” Connie said, a heavy swallow coming from her throat as she struggled to catch her breathe. “He still does sometime. I’ve seen him. I’ve seen him!” “Everyone eats flour. I can just appreciate it without other flavors.” He grinned, looking to the other couple with relish. “In Connie’s fix-it fic Archimicarus gains power whenever Lisa is in pain. So Lisa wears a-”

“Stop! Not the grimdark phase!” she gasped between peals of laughter. “Anything but my edgy phase, please!”

And that, Steven felt, was far more fun than composure.

[buckyodinson]

A Date in History (Frankie Morales x Reader)

Summary: you and Frankie go on a date to a museum, and softness ensues

Word count: 2k

Warnings: FLUFF, softness all round, Frankie being a complete nerd in the museum, like just complete sweetheart Frankie Morales

A/N: I’ve spent all week doing research for my dissertation (which is about the importance of museums for children’s learning), so I’ve been reading a lot of articles about how great museums are! I, myself, am a massive museum nerd, and I go all the time to all the different museums in London, and after all my reading, I had a thought about how cute a museum date with Frankie would be, and then this happened! This is pure self-indulgence, and I hope you enjoy! And this photo just gives me Frankie vibes too so here!

There was a chill in the air of your bedroom when you awoke. The sunlight seeping through the curtains was warm on the little sliver of exposed skin it touched, but otherwise, the bedroom was pretty cold. You wrapped yourself further into the sheets and as you turned over, you were met with an empty bed. You frowned as you realised Frankie must have opened a window somewhere and that’s why you were so cold. You laid eyes on the clock on Frankie’s bedside table and groaned at it’s mocking numbers, reading a bright 8:03AM.

Too early to be awake on a Sunday when you had nothing to do.

You were roused from your staring match with the numbers by a low humming out in the hallway. Frankie soon appeared in the doorway holding two mugs, smiling warmly at you. His hair was sticking out all over the place and you couldn’t help but mirror his expression. If you had to be up this early, at least it was with him.

“Morning sweetheart.” he murmured as he carefully climbed into bed, waiting for you to sit up before he handed you your mug. He planted a ghost of a kiss on your lips as you took the mug from his grip. You wrapped your hands around the mug, sighing at it’s warmth, and you heard a rumble of a laugh bubble in Frankie’s chest as he watched you.

“It’s a Sunday, why are we awake so early?” the end of your question trailed off into a yawn and you gave Frankie a pointed look as if to say ‘see - it is too early’.

“Because we have plans.”

“We do?” you wracked your brain, staring down at the drink in your mug as you tried to remember what past-you had stupidly agreed to do on a Sunday morning.

“Well, not exactly. But I was hoping to take you out on a date today?” his sheepish smile warmed your heart more than the drink currently in your hands.

“A date?” you squinted your eyes and smiled into your drink.

“Yeah, if you’re up for it?”

“I’d go anywhere with you, Frankie. Even if it is early on a Sunday.” you shuffled closer to him and dropped your head on his shoulder, feeling his own head rest softly atop yours a few seconds later.

“So where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise.” you swore you could hear the smirk on his face, and you couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach. You felt young again, like when you and Frankie first got together, and you’d take the other for surprise dates whenever you could.

You chatted aimlessly in bed for a little while longer until you both finished your drinks, before taking a shower together and getting ready.

“Do I need to dress up or is it a casual place?” you called out to Frankie in the bathroom, as you mulled over two outfits you’d laid out on the bed.

“Wear whatever you want, sweetheart!”

“That doesn’t help!”

He chucked as he came into the room shirtless, wrapping his arms around you and dropping his chin to your shoulder. He studies the two outfits for a moment before pointing at the more casual one, “That’ll do.” He presses a kiss to your cheek and walks back to the bathroom to carry on getting ready.

Once you’re out of the house, you walk down the street to the local cafe you both love. It’s a sweet little family-run business, and you’re both friendly with the owners, who are always happy to see the pair of you. You have a nice little breakfast, with you still trying to get Frankie to tell you where he’s taking you. He just smiles as he shoves another forkful of pancakes into his mouth, chuckling softly at the glare you give him.

Once you’re back out on the street and walking around again, you try to make sense of the nonsensical direction Frankie is walking you around in as you chat.

“Where are you taking me?” you pout your lips and give him puppy-dog eyes.

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t have anywhere in mind.” he gives you a boyish smile.

You give him a quizzical look and he carries on, “I just thought a day out would be fun. See where our feet take us. We can go back if you want to?”

“Of course not, Frankie. I’m very happy to carry on wandering around with you.” you lean up to press a kiss to his lips before you carry on walking the neighbourhood.

You stop quite often to take pictures of pretty things you notice, though you’re sure your camera roll is more selfies and candids of Frankie than the actual sights you saw. And if you looked at Frankie’s camera roll, you’d see a bunch of photos of you too.

Sometime in the early afternoon, you turn a corner into a much busier street than you’d experienced all day. When you followed the crowd, you came upon a museum. You gave each other a ‘why not?’ look before climbing the steps to the entrance.

And it turned out to be the best decision. Frankie had the biggest grin on his face as he took in all the fossils and skeletons that were on display as you walked through. He was more excited than the children who were running around the exhibits, and it brought the biggest smile to your face to see him so intrigued by everything. He’d read every little bit of information next to different objects, pointing at things he found particularly interesting.

You accumulated so many photos of him deep in thought as he looked over old fossils or with a beaming smile as he looked at some kind of reconstructed dinosaur skeleton. There were different interactive things in the exhibits - that you’re sure were aimed at children - that you took part in. You took selfies in some of the hats and period-accurate costumes there were to try on, giggling as you tried to keep straight faces to match the ones in the paintings.

You even sat and listened to a talk (again, mostly aimed at children) about how the excavation process works for digging up very fragile objects. The same wonder was still present on Frankie’s face, and it made your heart swell. He seemed so content to just stay in the museum all day, and you were more than happy to do the same, so long as you were with him.

As you explored more of the exhibits, holding Frankie’s hand tightly, all you could think about was how you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life with him. Yeah, getting dressed up for fancy dinners could be fun, but this was so much more you. Getting to walk around a museum and have fun all day perfectly encapsulated everything about you and Frankie. It’s the simple things in life.

Doing stuff like this for the rest of your life sounded perfect.

And evidently, the same thoughts were running through Frankie’s brain as you explored. As the evening approached, the crowds around the museum died down, and the exhibits got much quieter. Frankie grew a little quieter himself as you reached the space section of the museum, but you didn’t think too much of it, assuming he was starting to grow tired. There was a little planetarium room you assume is meant for small groups of school children to explore, and you and Frankie were the only people in there as you looked up at all the screens and projections. He let go of your hand briefly to point up at one of the constellations, and you laughed as he made a joke about it being inappropriately shaped.

But then you turned around to find Frankie down on one knee with a small box in his hands, and you gasped, tears already threatening to fall at the look of pure adoration on his face, which was only highlighted by the soft hues of the lights dancing in the room.

“I’ve known for the longest time that you were the one for me. The years I’ve spent with you have been the best of my life. Undoubtedly. I’ve done terrible things in the past, and I still don’t quite understand what you see in me,” he lets out a breathy chuckle, and you can hear the nerves in his voice as it falters slightly, “But I’m a better man because of you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and prove that I’m worthy of your love. So... Y/N, will you marry me and make me the happiest man in the world - or I guess universe is more fitting right now?” he gestures to all the projections still playing around you, biting his lip as he waits for your reply.

“Of course, Frankie.” you choke out a sob and nod your head frantically as he takes the beautifully dainty ring out of the box and slips it onto your finger. A perfect fit. He stands up and pulls you against him for the most bruising kiss you think you’ve ever shared. You pull away and berate him briefly for the ‘worthy’ comment in his proposal before pressing a kiss to his nose.

He pulls back, beaming, and lets out a deep breath, “Thank God.” he chuckles as he rests his forehead against yours. 

“Were you nervous?” you smiled warmly up at him as he wiped the tears from your cheeks, and the action makes you realise there are tears in his own eyes too.

“Are you kidding me?! Of course I was, sweetheart. I was worried you’d say no.”

“Never in a million years could I say no to this face, Mr. Morales.” you scratch at his scruff and laugh at the groan that rumbles in the back of his throat.

“Lucky me.” he pulls you in for another kiss, pulling your body impossibly close again.

“Mrs. Morales. I like the sound of that.” you smirk as you pull back.

“Me too...” he holds a hand out for you to take as you start to walk out of the planetarium, “... me too.”

You’re walking down the corridor towards the exit when you hear someone shouting from behind you “Wait!! Please! Excuse me?!”

You both turn to see a young girl in a shirt with the museum logo jogging towards you with an envelope in her hand. She catches her breath as she stops in front of you, sheepishly holding the envelope out for you to take.

“I hope this doesn’t come off as creepy, but the planetarium is rigged up with cameras so we can take pictures of the kids that they can take home. And I was getting ready to power them all down when I saw you two in there. Once I realised what was happening, I managed to grab some pictures of you.” she smiled nervously as you opened the envelope.

You were floored at the photos inside. There was one of Frankie on his knee before you’d turned around. Then one of you once you saw him, the shock evident on your face. Then closer up shots of your faces. And you kissing. And finally, you pressed against each other with your foreheads connected, looking into one another’s eyes. All of them were stunning, due to the projections and soft hues of blue and purple of the planetarium.

You felt a new set of tears threatening to fall as you looked over them, “Thank you so much. These are beautiful.” you didn’t miss the way the younger girl relaxed at your words. You chatted with her briefly and she took your email address so she could send you digital copies of the photos too. You definitely gave her a hug before you and Frankie left too.

By the time you walked back home, they were sat waiting in your inbox, and you stuck the physical copies up on the wall of your living room before retiring to bed for the night.

It’d been a long day, but you definitely weren’t mad at Frankie for making you get up early on a Sunday anymore.

Masterlist

Permanent taglist: @castieltrash1 @fioccodineveautunnale @mrsparknuts @fleurdemiel145 @hp-marvel-starwars-kotlc

While you’re not on a taglist as such, I hope you don’t mind me tagging you @softpedropascal because I know you love some soft Frankie!

(please message or ask if you want to be added to or removed from a taglist!)

[musicprincess1990]

Questions About Sherlolly

I was tagged, several days ago (sorry), by @mychakk, and... well, I had a bit too much fun with this. A few of them ran off and dragged me with them, so... yeah, these are more ficlets than headcanons.

Also, I want to tag @writingwife-83, @kietzemaze, @thisisartbylexie, @lilsherlockian1975, and @hobbitsdoitbetter. 😘

1. Coffee shop AU: Who is the barista, and who frequents the coffee shop?

This one always gives me Uni!lock vibes. Molly is the fresh-faced, ever cheerful barista, and Sherlock is the customer. He starts off barely paying attention to his surroundings as he gets his coffee. The first time she sees him, Molly notices the bloodshot eyes and the dark circles beneath them, and being the brilliant pre-med student that she is, recognizes the symptoms immediately. The next time she makes his coffee she writes a little note on his cup: Life is too short to waste. You could do something brilliant with yours.

Sherlock appears the next day, eyes scanning each barista, until he sees the mousy girl with brown hair and a look of recognition on her face. He seems angry, and he demands to know what her “little note” was about. Shyly, but still firmly, she says, “I think you know, or you wouldn’t be here. And I meant what I said. You could be brilliant.”

“I am brilliant.” And then he deduces her. Harshly.

She just stares at him, tears forming, but she doesn’t slap him or run off. Instead, she whispers. “You are brilliant… but think how much more you’d be able to see if you stopped clouding your brain.” This completely shakes him, and he leaves that day without coffee.

She doesn’t see him again for months, and when he comes back, he looks so much better. Dark circles gone, eyes bright and clear, and a healthy tinge of pink to his skin. He walks directly over to her and orders his coffee—“Black, two sugars, please”—and says nothing more. But Molly grins at the gratitude in his eyes, and in the use of the word please. She hands him his cup, with another little note: Told you so, with a smiley face. He meets her eyes, gives her the faintest smile, and says, “Thank you, Molly.”

He ends up coming in every day after that, and… well, you can guess the rest.

2. High school/College AU: Who is the straight-A student, and who’s the back row slacker?

Pfft, this one is obvious. Molly is the hardworking med student, Sherlock slacks off because school is too easy, and too dull, to bother with. But his parents refuse to give him any of the money they’ve set aside for him until he earns a degree, and finds something to do with his life. So he shows up to class, turns in the assignments, and gets the best grades in the class… until Molly shows up.

In advanced chemistry, she beats him by one point. But rather than being annoyed that she did better than him (because really, he wasn’t even trying), he’s intrigued. She doesn’t look like the kind of girl who would be suited for the sciences. She’s all smiles and colorful clothes and quirky habits. He starts watching her during class, her careful note-taking, her rapt interest in the subject matter. He deduces things about her – her father’s death, her mother’s disdain for her field of study, her older brother’s protectiveness, her love for animals, her tendency to trust people too easily – and his interest is piqued even more.

Soon he starts noticing other things about her. The faint hints of red in her hair when the sunlight catches them. The way she gnaws on her bottom lip when she’s thinking deeply. The absent twirling of a strand of hair when she’s bored. She chews gum on the days she hasn’t eaten breakfast, overly worried about her breath. Her hair is usually pulled into a hasty ponytail, but she leaves it down when she has a date. (He ignores the twisting in his gut when he makes that deduction.)

One day, she happens to look back at him, and oh, he tries not to catalogue the exact shade of pink her face turns as she blushes. And suddenly, he realizes he’s in over his head. He tries not to look at her, but she’s like a magnet. And now she keeps looking back at him, and he can see the curve of her small, pink mouth, the light dusting of freckles on her nose, the twinkle in those bottomless brown eyes.

He finally gives in and asks her out on the last day of term. She beams up at him and says, “It’s about bloody time!”

3. Rivals to lovers AU: Who takes their rivalry seriously, and who is half in it just to push the other’s buttons?

I guess I need to write more Uni!lock, because that's what comes to mind yet again! This time, when Molly gets better marks than Sherlock on an exam, he is OUTRAGED. He sulks and pointedly ignores her, until they get paired together for a project.

Molly is shy at first, and apologetic even when she hasn't done anything wrong. He finds it annoying, and tells her as much. She gets mad at him and calls him out for being so horrible to her when he's the one who didn't put in enough effort for the exam.

For reasons neither of them understand, he kisses her. And she slaps him. Then she kisses him back.

After that, she becomes much more confident. She challenges him more than any of his classmates, past or present. Also, she's absolutely adorable when she's cross with him. He begins to think this won't be such a bad arrangement after all.

4. Enemies to lovers AU: Which one switches sides?

Ooh, I'm thinking Revolutionary War. Molly is a nurse in the Colonies, Sherlock is a reluctant red-coat. He gets badly injured in a skirmish, and is one of only four survivors in his regiment. The other three ran before they could be captured, leaving him for dead. And who is the lucky nurse charged with his care? You guessed it!

Molly surprises him by being kind to him, even when he takes pains to belittle and insult her. He flat out asks her one day, why she's being so kind to him, when he's her enemy?

"I do not have any enemies," she replies calmly, tending to the dressings over his wound. "And as of yet, you have done nothing that would cause me to think of you as one."

"Perhaps I will," he counters, "once I am able to stand and find my musket."

She laughs at that. "I did not take you for the sort of man who would care about his own pain when confronting an enemy. If you truly wished us all dead, we would be." Her smiling eyes meet his. "And yet, here we are."

And HOLY SHIT I NEED TO KEEP WRITING THIS.

5. Soulmate AU: Who is eager to meet their soulmate? Who absolutely does not want to meet their soulmate?

Molly loves the idea of having a soulmate, and can’t wait to fall in love with whoever hers may be. She’s a little wary of the timing, however, because she wants to have a career, and worries her soulmate will want to get married immediately and start making babies. Sherlock, on the other hand, resents the little mark on his left shoulder, is determined to make his “soulmate” hate him the moment he meets her, so she won’t want him to marry her and start making babies.

Of course, things don’t go as planned. They meet on Molly’s first day at Bart’s, but they don’t figure out that they're soulmates until much later. When he fakes his death, and Molly has to do his autopsy, that’s when she sees the mark, identical to hers. She’s not surprised, because she’s already in love with him, but she knows his feelings on that subject, so she pretends it means nothing to her.

Then the phone call happens. Oh, the phone call! Sherlock turns up at her flat that night while she’s showering, and she doesn’t hear him pick her lock. He waits in her bedroom, and she comes in, wrapped only in a towel. She screams, only just hanging on to that towel, and then he sees it. He jumps up and turns her to get a better look at it. It'so mistaking it, that’s definitely the same mark. Which means… when she saw his, after he “died,” she knew… and didn’t say anything.

“Why?” he asks on a whisper.

“Because you don’t want it.”

He meets her eyes and says, “I didn’t. Not until you.”

....Fuck, I need to write this one, too.

6. Single parent AU: Which one is the single parent? (Alt. if they’re both single parents: Which one is open to starting a new relationship from the start? Which one is never planning on finding love again…Until they meet the other and are instantly smitten?)

Ooh, my favorite version of this has already been done, at least twice. Parent Trap AU!!! I recommend A Trap of Parental Proportions by 16magnolias, and also Brilliant Beyond Brilliant Idea by OccasionallyCreative. BOTH SO GOOD.

7. Doctor AU: Which one is the long-suffering doctor? Which one is the patient?

Um… this isn’t AU. This is canon. I totally believe Sherlock’s #2 reason for using Molly’s flat as a bolthole is because she patches him up. (#1 reason is because it's Molly, and she calms his mind. And he’ll never admit it, especially not to John, but he rather likes being the big spoon. 😉)

8. Bodyguard AU: Who is the bodyguard? Who are they protecting? Which one is secretly pining for the other?

Once again, this has been done already, masterfully so. I would like to direct you to The Queen’s Man, by @writingwife-83. It’s perfect. Also, MUTUAL PINING ALL THE WAY!!

9. Pirate AU: Who is the pirate? Who is the member of the royal family who did not sign up for this?

Again, obvious. Sherlock is the pirate. Molly is a royal, maybe a cousin of whichever historical monarch you think fits best (I say George III, because after #4, I'm digging the Revolutionary vibes). She gets kidnapped by the dastardly Captain Moriarty, who intends to kill her and frame his rival, Captain Holmes. Sherlock gets hired by his brother, who initially offers a great deal of money, which Sherlock declines. Then he offers freedom, for him to continue being a pirate without government interference. This, Sherlock accepts, and he sets off to rescue the royal damsel.

However, when he finds her, he discovers she is no damsel. She has won over Moriarty’s entire crew, and Moriarty has been marooned. He doubts his rival will stay on the little island they chose for very long. He tells her as much, and offers to help her bring him down, after which he will return her to London.

Of course, by the time they finish with Moriarty, they’ve fallen in love, and she has no desire to go back to her life of excess. Sherlock decides he much prefers the thrill of having to stay one step ahead of the government, and removing that challenge would spoil the fun.

Yep... gonna have to write this one, too.

10.   Childhood best friends AU: Which one was super obviously in love with the other the whole time? Who was oblivious until they were older?

They were both madly in love, and it was obvious to everybody, except them. Neither of them knew how the other felt, and Molly only realized her own feelings when she was 12 or 13, somewhere around there. Sherlock took much longer, refusing to admit it until they were both adults. ALL THE MUTUAL PINING!!

Yep... these bear continued study and attention. I bet I can get a few one-shots out of them at least. 😊

[that-kids-storybook]

There goes my first ever post! :) Hope you like it!

It was the cold breeze of November the second that made my hair flutter as I rollarskated my way down the fully decorated hallway, my eyes analysing the beautiful golden chairs perfectly aligned together majestically around the large red angelic serving table in the middle that was set up with those admirable empty culinary.

I circled my way round this beautiful aspect and immediately met with the familiar auroma of my favourite cake that was currently being prepared in the kitchen by my mother.

I licked my lips at the remembrance of the little personal fact: after my first birthday, it became a tradition for her to prepare my cake. I chuckled at the thought of her quoting; "Made with love," to my friends.

Speaking of friends, I had made sure to invite everyone I loved, which apparently meant that this was going to be an amazing day filled with laughter and happiness.

"I can't wait!" I exclaimed with my eyes closed and arms sticking out.

"This is going to b-"

My glorious train of thoughts and ranting was rudely disturbed by the solid concrete wall that divided the kitchen from the hall.

The momentum made me stumble backwards, and I crashed into the floor.

Letting out a moan and rubbing my sore temple, I stood up and pounted straight at the wall, glaring at it as if it were an offender who had managed to arrogantly disrespect me, just by existing.

"You'll never change will ya?"

Came an oddly familiar voice, I did not even need to look back as I already knew who it belonged to.

"I'm the 'Birthday Girl', I've an absolute right to act egotistical," I muttered enough for her to hear but not enough for my precious mother to hear either. I was not going to risk my chances of getting lectured. No, not at all.

"Yeah, yeah, understandable, anyway what's up?" Noor casually mimicked taking a seat on one of the golden chairs.

"Hey! Don't you dare sit on my legendary Iron-man chair, you punk!" I bellowed beckoning my best friend to sit on the couch instead.

"Dude, c'mon what made you choose a pathetic Iron-man theme?" She indirectly obliged to move an inch.

"Welp, Tony Stark's death ain't goin' good on me ya know... Poor Mr. Stark," I said mocking her tone.

"Hahaha, so funny,"

"Shut up, sour patch!"

"Why should I? Alpaca,"

"At least alpacas are cute," I acknowledged as-a-matter-of-factly, smirking.

"Mr. Stark I don't feel so good, please I don't wanna g-," She was disrupted by me throwing a cushion directly at her face.

'No one, I mean no one, makes a joke about Peter Parker's despair in this household,' I thought to myself.

"You dare use my own spells against me, Potter?!" I cursed, as a cushion hit me in my perfect tooth.

In no time, we found ourselves having a 'cushion war', as if that was even a thing.

"You won," I cried out in defeat, gesturing for her to give me her hand to stand up.

"C'here," she signed giving me her hand and making me stand on my own two feet.

"Lessgo," I said lazyly putting the rollerskates back on, ironically I wondered when I even took them off.

Slamming myself on the bed, with a slight thud, I sighed deeply. The clock on my bedside table notificed me that it was 4 O'clock which if we put in perspective, clearly meant that the celebration of me inhaling my first atoms of oxygen, would start in roughly an hour.

"You wanna kill some time while we wait for the party to start? I got the new Spider-man movie here!" Noor squeaked, beaming at the movie's compact disk in her right hand. How could I refuse such great things in life? "Yep, let's make this go down!" I sassed taking the disk from her hand and putting it into the drive reader of my laptop.

[Time Skip]

Noor and I were perfectly done with our routine of wasting time, the humongous clock on the ceiling of the hall boomed throughout the house. Indicating the time as 5 o'clock.

'The guests should be arriving by now,' My brain broadcasted to me.

We looked at each other, grins reaching our eyes. Nodding, we took a jog down the entrance gate of the house.

"Now, we wait," I said, proudly puffing my chest high. Noor just giggled at my childish behaviour.

Just as the door bell rang, I enthusiastically swung the door open without even bothering to confirm if it was a phedophile or not. Luckily, it was not.

"Konichiwa," the three of my friends chirped like sparrows. Making Noor and me snicker in the process.

It was just like I imagined a perfect birthday to be. After the arrival of my good friends, gradually as the clock ticked, the hall started to fill with my classmates and relatives. It was strange as well, because I did not remember requesting my mom to invite this much people, but perhaps the phrase; "The more = the better," was quite correct.

"It's 7 o'clock already, Areeba, when're ya goin' to cut the goddamn cake?" Screamed - I do not know - Mishal? Yeah it was her.

Taking Mishal's request as a treat, I proceeded to make my way toward my obviously expected Iron-man cake, which portrayed Tony Stark vibing with his capri-sun. To make it more divine, the candle holder was just above the nano infinity gauntlet, I was about to lit up the candle as Rozhna was informing the guests about the main ceremony taking place.

"Stop!" Shahar's voice echoed through the fusion of chatter, which made me stutter, fortunately, Noor caught me from the back before I could fall face-to-face into the cake. Not to mention but I reluctantly knocked a couple cupcakes in the chaos.

"What?" I whimpered practically shooting daggers at her through my eyeballs. How can someone not expect me to get furious after they make me subconsciously murder two delicious cupcakes?

"Areeba, we gotta talk this through," my dad joined in. The confused look on my face probably took Noor off-guard but I did not care, this was honestly pretty bizzare.

"On everyone's 13th birthday after they blow the candles, one word appears on their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. We want you to know that after you blow this candle, your purpose, your destiny, will become apparent, it'll be engraved on your body, and you won't be able to get away with it, because that's what your chosen for," mom's little speech was appreciated by the crowd, as they were applauding and cheering, some were even whistling. Which only made me confuser.

"But how come I didn't know about this?" I whispered, hoping for some sort of savior to take my confusion away.

"It's because we're forbidden to let this bit of information wander through the ears of those who're younger than thirteen," Shahar, or in other words, my 'saviour' described causally. I looked through the crowd and realized that there were no children under the 'appropriate' age present. The little bulb inside my head lit up and I started laughing.

"Really? You sure this isn't a prank or somethin'?" I asked eyeing everyone in the room.

"Nope," Noor said softly, showing me her ankle, the word 'doctor,' inscribed there with a golden splint.

"Alright,"

The scene was overwhelming, literally everyone was curiously gathered around the table, pure astonishment in their eyes as I blew the candles. They were applauding which for some odd reason, made me feel sick to my stomach.

Just as the little fire left the candle top, everything went into slow motion, the party poppers that were shooted directly at me became numb, the second hand of the clock that hung high to the ceiling started to move moderately, the screams of joy disappeared, my heart was unusually beating faster, I could feel the aderline pumping through my veins as tears threatened to escape my eyes.

Pride, it was all I could feel.

After about what felt like an eternity, everything came back to as it always was.

Perhaps it was just me who felt that sensation?

"What is it?" A voice quizzed.

"Go to the bathroom and see!" Another voice ordered.

I have no idea what happened after that but when I did come to my senses, I found myself in the bathroom trying to find the word. Or if we put it bluntly, My Destiny.

I looked and looked but could not find it.

A thought made my heart swell.

What if all this was just a prank?

Before I could contemplate any further I started to sob hysterically while sitting crossed leg on the cold bathroom floor.

As my head jerked to the side, a glimpse of something red caught my attention.

I shakily closed my eyes and directed my head towards the back of my left foot.

Deep down, I wanted this 'prank' to not just be a prank. Pulling myself together, I opened my eyelids to find my destiny there, written in a colour as red as blood.

"Assassin,"

"Wow! That was lit!" Jax gasped, as he professionally shot the target in the most vulnerable spot, which instantly resulted in her dying.

"Yeah, mine is sort of the same!" Alexa declared, the smile visible even through the black cloth that she infamously described as her 'mask,'

I chuckled, "this is one of the best memories of my childhood," I mumbled dragging the body of our target toward the dumpster.

[jane-the-zombie]

Wedding Inferno || Harsh & Jane

TIMING: Present LOCATION: ???? PARTIES: @notsoharsh & @jane-the-zombie SUMMARY: Jane and Harsh show up to Jane’s wedding wearing the same dress. Obviously, one of them has to change.

Soft music guided careful steps down a long, carpeted aisle. Chairs on either side were full of smiling, unfamiliar faces. The dress was hard to walk in. Or maybe that was the shoes. Harsh couldn’t really tell, they were trapped underneath the voluminous skirt. Well, at least everyone was looking at him. They should be. It was his big day after all. Except… it wasn’t. Someone else was walking the aisle with him. He gave her a sideways glance, brow furrowing. What was she doing wearing white on his day? Or was it his? Whatever, that was so out of line. Everyone knows wearing white to a wedding is just in bad taste. “What’s with you?” he muttered before looking down the aisle. Just one groom there waiting. The guy was… decent looking. Yeah, Harsh could work with that. It was just the chick keeping pace with him who was a problem. “Seriously, shouldn’t you go sit down? You’re kind of getting in the way.”

Oh god, not this again. Jane scowled down at Dream Jason, beaming at her from the end of the elongated aisle. Everything was wrong. Her flowers were blood red roses instead of the pretty purple pansies and they were in a church with the two sides of the family separated, and she was pretty sure her heels were a size too small. And, Jane realized as she walked down the aisle, instead of her father escorting her to Jason, some asshole in the same dress as her was walking with her. Excuse me, absolutely not. “What’s with me?” she hissed back. “What’s with you! You’re the one interrupting my wedding! That’s my fiancee down there! And how the hell did you get that dress, this was custom made just for me!”

Harsh scoffed, one hand on his hip. “If it was made for you, then why does it look better on me?” None of the guests seemed particularly bothered by their little pause halfway down the aisle. Good. No one should be giving him crap, not today. He cast another look at the groom, head tipped to one side. “I don’t know, I’m pretty sure he’s giving me bedroom eyes right now. What do you want for him?” Maybe they could trade something. What was worth a fiance? Chauncey was probably just as good as a boring human husband. The music was still going, it seemed a little louder, a little more urgent. “I think they want us to get this show on the road. So one of us is going to have to sit this out. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of uh… what’s his name?”

“Trade him?!” r stared at him, aghast. Honestly, if this was real life and not a dream, she would absolutely trade Jason for less than half an m&m. But she was fairly certain this was a dream, considering her mother was actually here and not somewhere on the West Coast tanning. That had to mean Jason wasn’t a total bag of dicks. Jane scoffed. “You don’t even know his name. This is my wedding, my dress, my possessed ring-bearer step stool and that’s my family -” Jane pointed to where her family was sitting. “- so go sit your ass down.” She full on body blocked him, standing in front of him with hands on her hips. Who cared if it was embarrassing, it wasn’t real! And damn that music was getting loud, the groom’s side of the church starting to shuffle quietly. There was something she should be remembering, but she was too distracted by whoever the hell this guy was. Trying to interrupt her dream wedding, dickhead was lucky she didn’t shoot him right then and there. “I’ll save you a piece of cake.”

The groom’s side was starting to get ansty, moaning and groaning discordantly. Harsh spared them a brief look. Huh, apparently some of them didn’t want to wait for the reception to eat. Oh well, they weren’t his family. What’s his face at the end of the aisle didn’t seem to care much as his best man turned and started snacking on another groomsman. As long as the blood didn’t get on his dress, it didn’t seem to matter. “Listen, lady, I don’t know who you are, but you’re really killing my vibe here. You want me to sit down, how about you try to make me,” he said, shoving roughly at her shoulders. It was probably bad luck to start a fight on his wedding day, but if she wasn’t going to move, he would just have to make her.

There was something she was forgetting - something very important. Jane, with her back to the chaos behind her, was shoved backwards. By some miracle she didn’t fall on her ass in her one-size-too-small shoes. Grumbling under her breath, she looked at him. She wasn’t about to be bullied by some man on her wedding day. Absolutely not. “I’m Jane - Jane Wu. And this is my wedding!” It wasn’t like any of this mattered right? And honestly, it was a little fun to start fights. She could feel her heart pumping the adrenaline going as she wound up and decked the man straight in the face with her best punch. She didn’t fuck around. She killed a mime with her bare hands. Some half-rate dream man wasn’t going to do crap to her.

For a human, or someone who looked pretty human, Jane could throw a decent punch. Harsh staggered back, catching himself on a chair. His cheek stung. There was something weird about that. Whatever, he couldn’t go down that easy. Giving himself a shake, he straightened up, rolling his shoulder. “So that’s how it’s gonna be? Fine.” Charging forward, he threw a sharp punch right to her gut and then slammed his foot down onto hers. Wearing heels was suddenly a great call. Maybe he should get a pair to wear more often. Wait, no he had these. Didn’t he? He couldn’t think straight, his face hurt and that weird music just kept getting louder, almost like it was trying to drown out the growing growls around them. And, for a second, he was sure he smelled smoke.

She didn’t have time or really the ability to block the hit as it came, Jane swearing as his foot slammed down onto hers. Why did that hurt more than the damn punch to the gut? Jane gripped Harsh’s shoulders, pushed him back before using the momentum to flip them both down onto the ground. There was an outrageous tearing noise - someone’s dress had ripped and she didn’t give a shit whose it was. She wound up to bunch him in the face again, this time with her left hand so her diamond ring would cut his face - yikes, when had she gotten so violent? - when she heard her father scream. The mangled frantic Mandarin came to through to her - Janey, janey what are you doing, help - when her head snapped up to see Jason’s friend Dave ripping out his neck. “Dad?! Hold on! Hold on!!” I’m coming!” Jane cried back in Mandarin. “Zombies. Oh crap, I forgot about the zombies!” She pushed herself up off the man, forgetting about everything. “Dad - shit, I can’t move in this thing.”

Shit. The carpet didn’t do much to soften the blow as Harsh crashed down. That hurt, really hurt. Maybe she wasn’t human. Something was off. He threw up his hands to try to stop the blow, but it didn’t come. Oh, right people were getting eaten. “Hold on.” Forcing himself up, he took Jane’s arm, helping her to her feet. The chaos was spreading, the music was almost defeating now and he didn’t just smell smoke, he could see it. Dark tendrils of it crept out from under the few chairs that were still upright in one piece. The stupid dress was too long. Cursing under his breath, Harsh ripped at the skirt. He grabbed a few bits of a broken chair, handing one to Jane. “Here. It’s better than nothing,” he said before turning to try to brain a zombie with his makeshift club. “Where did these things come from? Did you invite a bunch of zombies?”

Jane watched in horror as her Dad was carried off away, the blood spraying everywhere. And suddenly, the man under her was helping her up to her feet. Well that was strange - Jane winced as she heard screaming that sounded like it was from her friend Anya. Oh god, Anya. Her maid of honor. Jane needed to call her, but Anya gave up on her way before she moved to - nope. Focus. She took the chair leg from Harsh looking down at it doubtfully. “We need a sword,” she said, solemnly. “I didn’t on purpose, I didn’t know - well, it’s a long story. It always ends like this. Take your shoes off, you’re doing to twist and ankle.” Jane kicked her heels off, slugging the first zombie in the face that tried to come for her. “Don’t let them bite you!” And then she noticed the smoke. Dark smoke filled her nostrils as she ran forward to try and save her nephew she saw the flames. “... The fire’s new though.” Jane said, nervously. Things were somehow scarier when she knew they weren’t real.

“Right, just let me pull a sword out of my ass,” Harsh said, rolling his eyes. Her advice wasn’t terrible though and he made quick work of his shoes, driving the heel of one through the eye of an advancing zombie. “No shit, my first plan wasn’t really to just let them chew my arm off. I don’t think it matters if they bite me. I’m already dead. Ish.” He was pretty sure he couldn’t get any deader. Jane probably didn’t need to know that, but… this wasn’t real. At least, it seemed pretty not real. Was it a dream? His dreams were usually more… oh. There was the fire. He winced. “I think that’s mine. It’s going to keep spreading until it’s everywhere. We’ve gotta get out of here.” He looked around, frantic. There had to be an exit, this stupid church had to have a door somewhere. The flames grew, ripping through the last of the chairs, climbing the walls. “How does this end for you?”

“Right.” And unaffected by zombie bites? Weird. He must be a zombie she conjured up with her mind. Dreams were fucking wild. Jane shook her head, before she reached out and grabbed Harsh’s arm, pulling him down the aisle. “This way, there’s always an exit down by the priests quarters. We can avoid the fleeing guests that way.” The smoke was getting worse though, scratching the back of her throat. They clambered over bodies in a wedding dress and she barely even paused to think. “When I get down to the end of the aisle to get married, I usually... “ Jane grimaced. “Get eaten.” But it looked like Jason had been ripping Lizzie’s throat out last she checked. Figures. Dream Jason went for her sister. This wasn’t real - Except she was really sore and in a lot of pain. Weren’t people supposed to not feel pain in dreams. “Come on,” Jane coughed. “Shit. I think the exit is blocked off.”

Stumbling over a few lost limbs, Harsh followed after her as fast as the dress would allow. He should have ripped it more. The smoke stung his eyes, but not having to breathe had its advantages sometimes. “Y’know, I was sort of hoping for a different answer. We need to get out of this.” His own ending was rarely better. Being burnt to a crisp was so far down on his to-do list. And there was something wrong with the fire. It felt hot, it felt real. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. This… this was a dream. Wasn’t it? The walls were engulfed now, the ceiling above them starting to creak. The screams and cries behind them were growing fainter, but there was still that damn music over everything. “We can’t stay here,” he said, eyes flicking about. There, one of the walls wasn’t the raging inferno the others were, but it had broken in places, bits of light peeking through. “That wall, we’ve gotta get through it.”

“Through the wall?” Jane looked at him like he had four heads. There was a raging inferno and it was starting to get way too hot for comfort. She was sweating, her carefully done up hair damp and falling down, and she was sure her makeup was running - that’s how she knew this was a nightmare. Who the hell wore non-waterproof mascara on their wedding day? “And how do you expect us to go through the wall - of course we can’t stay here. What if we try to get through one of those windows -” she pointed. They were a little high up, but with some small feat of acrobatics maybe they could manage it. It wasn’t like they would die or anything. The flames were starting to creep closer though, and Jane wished the fucking music wasn’t so loud. Here Comes the Bride was only fucking charming during a wedding that wasn’t shit show.

“The fuck are you talking about? Those windows are tiny. Just c’mere.” Harsh grabbed her arm, yanking her toward the wall. There were little spaces between the wood, faint hints of light. Wedging his fingers in, he found purchase and yanked. The fire was growing hotter and hotter, his dress already stained by the smoke. He ripped away chunk after chunk of wall, hands aching. The hole he made wasn’t huge, but it would have to do. Grabbing Jane around the waist, he pulled her close for a moment. “See you on the other side.” And then, with a rough shove, he forced her through before clawing his way out himself, into the light.

“What are you - hey! I don’t think this is a good idea! This is stupid, it’s all a dream anyway, I’m going to wake up just fine -” Jane said, but it wasn’t heard and she was gaping at Harsh as he ripped a hole through the wall. Things were getting worse by the second. Smoke burning her throat and eyes and things were far too hot, and Jane was pretty sure for the first time in a long time, she felt a healthy dose of fear. But that’s what nightmares were, right? It was fine. Except she didn’t have time to really process that before Harsh yanked her close to him. “Wait, don’t -” except she didn’t have time to object as she was forced through the small hole in the wall, cutting her arm in the process and -

Jane jerked upwards in bed, sweating, coughing. disheveled, and bleeding. Wait, bleeding?! Fumbling for her lamp, she knocked her alarm clock on the floor. “Crap -” Jane swore, before finally disentangling herself from her covers as she limped to the bathroom flipping on the light to look at herself in the mirror. Her arm had a jagged cut on it, blood dripping down onto the floor. She was still coughing, eyes burning with tears as if she had just been in a fire. Wait. A fire? THat’s what she wash ust dreaming about, right? Her stomach was killing her and so was her foot - what the hell? What the hell?! Aghast, Jane reached for her first-aid kit, and wondered how the hell she managed to kick her own ass in her sleep. Hadn’t it all been a dream?

Harsh jerked awake, nearly rolling off his couch. He sat up, patting at himself. His cheek still stung and his back ached. That… that was wrong. How did he still hurt from that stupid dream? Something was wrong. Maybe it was something he drank… or someone. And then there was that woman, Jane. She had seemed different than the rest of it. More real. It was something to do with her, it had to be.

[stormtrprinstilettos]

“Maybe I like spoiled brats.” - Roger x (fem) Reader (smut)

(Surprise! Early posting!)

Summary: It’s 1983 and Queen is recording their next album at the studio where you work, and things get a little heated between you and the drummer.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

In this “episode”: Reader is Roger’s date to some dinner with the band & label executives, and they have “a talk.”

Word Count: ~5.7k

Warnings: smut, age gap (21 vs. 35), smut, language. 18+ please & thank you

Tagging: @fixedonroger @a19103 @ginabaker1666 @thickthighsandbasicbrowneyes @culturefiendtrashqueen @imaginesandideas @rogertaylorscar @painkiller80

[A/N: Here’s the second place winner! The plot I had in my brain has been somewhat adjusted, given how everyone wants more fluff. But the smut is totally going to still be a thing. This one isn’t too smut heavy, because we need to have a discussion, alright?]

Things were quiet today at the studio. You knew they would be. The guys had some dinner with the label big wigs to go to later tonight, so they used that as their excuse to take the day off. And if they weren’t going to be there, then no one else had to be there, except for you. “Who else will answer the phone?” your boss asked when you asked him if you had to come in today. Sometimes you didn’t mind being the only female that worked here but other times it was annoying because it seemed like your sole purpose in being there was to be some kind of maternal presence, making sure the kids were fed and that all their problems were solved.

You kicked your legs up on the desk, chewing your gum and tapping your pen to the beat of the music playing on the radio, trying not to fall asleep. The phone rang one time in the 7 hours you’ve been here so far, and that was 20 minutes ago and no one was even on the line when you answered. You finished the book you brought with you an hour ago, and if you paced around the floor any more than you already had you’d wear it out. You leaned back in the chair to look at the clock on the wall, looking at it upside down, relieved that you only had to sit here for another 30 minutes. While you were in your awkward position, you hear the door fly open and quickly flip yourself back upright, making yourself lightheaded in the process. Roger is standing there, laughing heartedly as you try to keep your bearings straight. “You alright?” he asks, still laughing, rushing over to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.

“Why do you always do that?” you laugh. “You can never just make a normal entrance.”

“Because you’re cute when you get startled,” he chuckles. You roll your eyes at him as he takes a seat on your desk. “Busy day?” he asks with a great amount of sarcasm.

“Oh yeah, real busy,” you reply, matching his sarcasm level. “I chewed through an entire pack of gum, read War and Peace, knitted a blanket, composed a symphony and answered the phone one time.”

“What’s your plan for tonight?” he asked, knowing damn good and well you had nothing planned. When you raised your eyebrow at him, he smirked. “Good, you can come with me to this ridiculous dinner.” You looked at him, puzzled, because this wasn’t just some seedy bar with a dark corner to sit in, or the Santa Monica Pier where you blended with the crowd. This was an actual thing, with people you both knew, and… “Oh, come on, it’ll be fun,” he nudged you. “If you don’t come I’ll be the only one without a date and I’ll look stupid.”

“Don’t you think people will…” you started to voice your concern, but he held his hand up to stop you.

“I don’t care what people will say or think,” he assured you. “I hear one of these execs has a wife younger than you anyway so…” He looks at you and sees your concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you whisper with a smile before clearing your throat. “What time do we leave?”

He starts beaming with joy. “Pick you up at 6.” He jumps up from the desk and looks down at you. “Got anymore gum?”

You shake your head no. “Last piece,” you say as your point to your mouth.

He leans down and gets close to your face. “Give me that one, then.” You giggle and push him back, but he still leans in and gives you a deep, tongued kiss, while the both of you are still laughing, still managing to get your gum. “Thanks,” he says, big grin on his face as he chews the gum loudly to annoy you.

“That’s disgusting, Roger,” you tell him, trying to act like your grossed out, but you’re still laughing. He winks at you and gives you a quick peck and walks out the door.

You’re sitting in your living room getting anxious. After deciding on wearing your black cocktail dress, dazzled up with a few quaint pieces of jewelry, you rushed to finish getting ready, only to be left alone with the million thoughts running rampant in your head for a good half an hour. It felt silly being so nervous – you knew every single inch of his body, and he yours, for God’s sake – but here you were, sitting in the quiet, shaking with nerves. So when the knock on your door came at exactly 5:57, you were startled, just like you always were when he’d show up. You wanted to rush to the door, but you didn’t want to seem too eager, so you calmed yourself down, grabbed your clutch and walked to the door.

There he was, standing in front of you, dressed in a blazer and tie, wearing those damn sunglasses, with a huge smile on his face, leaning on the door frame, looking absolutely gorgeous. “Hey there,” he greeted you. “I’m here for Y/N. Is she here?” he said before grabbing hold of your waist and pulling you close. “If she’s not, you’re pretty, so I guess you’ll do.”

“Shut up,” you giggled as you playfully hit his shoulder and walked out of the door, pushing him back as you closed the door. “Let’s go.” You turned to lock it, and his hands didn’t leave your hips. You slid his hands away as you turned back around. “None of this funny business,” you said jokingly. “I’m a respectable lady.”

“For now,” he said as he lowered his sunglasses and gave you a wink. “I happen to know you have no problem abandoning that respectability.” He holds out his arm for you and walks you outside where you’re greeted by a shiny black limo with the driver standing outside waiting to open the door. “Too much?” he laughed when he saw your face. “It is. But everyone’s waiting so let’s go get this over with so we can finish this night properly.”

“You clean up nicely,” Freddie tells you as you climb in and sit next to him. “Stunning,” he says with a smile and pat on your leg.

“This is Y/N,” Brian says to the lady sitting next to him before turning to you. “This is my wife.”

You shake hands and she smiles. “I’m not used to any of this mess either,” she says with a slight giggle.

The ride to the restaurant was pleasant, mostly spent listening to the guys cracking jokes about each other – especially John, who wasn’t there to defend himself – a completely different vibe than you ever got from them in the studio where they were more business than pleasure. It relaxed you, the lack of tension, and your nerves flew out the window, until the car arrived at the restaurant. Roger got out first, holding his hand out for you to grab as you followed. He could sense your nervousness, especially since you were fidgeting as you walked inside. “Calm down, numpty,” he whispered in your ear. “You’re fine.” You look up at him and he’s giving you a comforting smile, and you give him a thankful one in return.

Dinner was going smoothly, mainly because no one was trying to draw you into a table-wide conversation. Roger would talk to you, of course, and so would the wife of the label executive he told you about earlier in the day. She was a little older then you, not younger like he thought, so it was easy to find common ground.

When he wasn’t eating, Roger kept his hand on your lap, rubbing his thumb on your thigh to keep you relaxed. But when you were waiting for the dessert, he started to move his hand closer and closer to the area between your legs, taunting you and acting like nothing was going on. You were doing a great job keeping your composure, but you were starting to feel yourself shifting in your seat, trying to make him stop. Of course, he didn’t. He was enjoying making you squirm. His hand moved down to your knee before slowly making its way up your dress to your inner thigh, all while you were trying to talk to the exec’s wife sitting across the table from you and while he was talking to John who was sitting next to him. You squeeze your legs together, trapping his hand there, but he still wiggles one of his fingers free, making it graze against your box. You started to softly choke, as did he when he realized you weren’t wearing anything to cover yourself down there. You hurried and grabbed your glass of water to take a sip, smirking as you did, pleased with yourself that you finally startled him. “Excuse yourself,” he whispered in your ear, forcefully. “Now.”

You put your glass down and pat your mouth with your napkin. “Excuse me,” you told the wife as you scoot your chair back. You stand up and put a hand on Roger’s shoulder before walking away.

A few minutes later he joins you in the small hallway that leads to the restrooms with a sneaky grin on his face. “Anyone in there?” he asks as he points to the ladies room door. You shake your head no and bite your bottom lip as he grabs your arm and rushes inside, locking the door behind him. He immediately grabs you and starts savagely kissing you, picking you up and putting you on the counter. “Still a naughty little minx,” he growls as he unhooks his pants and taking his already rock-hard cock out through the opening. You kick your shoes off and rest your heels on the counter where you’re sitting and spread your legs, calling him close to you with your finger before reaching out and grabbing his tie, pulling him close to you. When he reaches you, he doesn’t waste any time getting started, pushing himself inside of you with a force you didn’t suspect. “Need you to be quiet,” he gruntingly whispered in your ear as he darted himself in and out of you rather quickly.

You wrapped one arm around his neck, still holding his tie in the other and nibbled on his ear. It always drove him crazy when you did that. “Need you to fuck me,” you whispered back. Right now, all you were worried about was pleasing him like he had done for you so many times before. Yes, this was amazing and yes, you were getting great pleasure from it, but you knew there was no time to waste making sure you were fully satisfied. He moved his head back to look into your eyes as he raged inside of you before you pulled his tie and drew him into a kiss. “You like feeling me wrapped around your cock, don’t you?” you asked in a raspy whisper as his face was close to yours. He was looking at you pleadingly, and you can tell he was already almost finished. “Cum for me, Roger,” you whispered in his ear. That’s all it took. “I love the way you feel inside me,” you whispered with a tug on his earlobe, talking him through his orgasm.

“You fucking own me, Y/N,” he quietly grunted after he finished. He gazes deep into your eyes as he starts to laugh, keeping it as quiet as he can. “You’re making me absolutely mad,” he whispers through his laugh as he leans in to kiss you. “And we’ve made a fucking mess.” He quickly reaches for some paper towels to wipe everything up.

“Oops,” you giggle when there’s a knock at the door. “Be out in a minute!” you yell before climbing off of the counter. “Now how are we gonna do this?” you whisper to Roger, still giggling.

As he finishes tucking his shirt in and making sure he looks presentable, he smiles a toothy grin and walks to the door. “Like this,” he says before holding the doorknob, much to your shock. He opens the door and sees an older lady standing there, who is absolutely horrified when she sees the two of you walking out holding hands. “Hello, ma’am,” he chirps as he passes her, acting completely oblivious to anything out of the ordinary. You giggle as the two of you walk back to the table as if nothing happened.

“Welcome back,” John smirks at the two of you when you sit down. “We were wondering if you got lost,” he chuckles before leaning to whisper something in Roger’s ear, causing him to blush a little bit.

When it came time to leave, everyone stood outside on the sidewalk saying their goodbyes and you piled back into the limo with everyone who rode there together. Roger took a minute getting in before the driver closed the door and pulled away. Brian and Chrissie were dropped off first, followed by Freddie, leaving you and Roger alone.

“Hope you didn’t think this night was over,” he told you as the door closed after dropping Freddie off. “I’m still not done with you,” he smirked as he pulled you in for a passionate kiss. You looked out of the window, not knowing where you were going. “I’m not bringing you home,” he told you. “Not tonight.” You gave him a smile – a big smile. “You’re all mine until tomorrow at least.” You couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. “I can’t wait to get out of this car,” he grunts in your ear as you’re straddled on his lap. “So many things I want to do to you right now.”

“Can he hear us?” You point back to the direction of the driver. Roger shrugs and smirks. “Does it matter?” He shakes his head no, still smirking.

He moves you off his lap and pushes you to lean against the side of the limo. “Open,” he commands, pointing down to your legs. “I’m hungry.” You spread your legs open, and he watches your eyes as he licks his lips and moves down between your legs. You giggle and bite on your thumb as you watch him move down.

He flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue then stops. You can hear him giggle too. “Stop being such a fucking tease,” you yell through your own giggles. “You don’t have much time!” He moved quickly, licking, sucking, kissing, taking as much of you in his mouth as he could. “Good boy,” you chuckled, grabbing a handful of his hair and rocking your hips.

You started to moan, making an effort to keep it quiet, but he wasn’t having it. He pulled his mouth away from you and quickly moved two fingers inside. “I know you can be louder than that,” he says.

“Then make me,” you groan as he rams his fingers in and out of you while sucking and licking all over your pussy. “Suck my clit, Roger,” you tell him through bated breath. “You always make me cum when you do that.” He happily obliged, doing exactly what you told him to do. “Fingers,” you mumble, unable to form a complete sentence. “Harder.” He again did as he was told. “That. Just like that. Don’t stop doing that.”

He moves his head back again so he can get a better look at you as you start to cum, smirking devilishly at what he’s doing. “Dirty girl,” he chuckles. “Such a dirty girl.” You grab his hand and push his fingers inside, holding his hand tightly and still as you start to come. “That’s right,” he growls, still chuckling. “Cum for me.”

“My God,” you sigh, your breathing short, still giggling. “That was good.” You reach your hands down and pull him up to you, both smiling uncontrollably, and draw him into a kiss.

He started to kiss and nibble on your neck, making you giggle and take deep but soft breaths. He pulled away quickly, looking out of the window. “Here we are,” he mumbled as the limo pulled into a long driveway. “Hope you don’t mind,” he tells you. “Thought we could use a change of scenery.”

When you walk inside, you take a look around at this “change of scenery,” a quaint house – not too big, not too small – taking in the surroundings as you nose around. “This place yours?” you ask as you look outside though the window.

“For now, yeah,” he says as he takes off his jacket and throws it on a chair at the kitchen table. “I might buy it. Haven’t decided.” He walks up behind you and puts his hands on your hips. “Nice pool, isn’t it?” He leaned down and gave you a sweet kiss on the top of your head.

You turn around to face him. “Yeah, it is,” you smile. “Too bad I didn’t know we were coming here. I could have brought my suit.” You move away and walk to the counter, leaning on it with one hand to you can take off your shoes. “I hate wearing heels. They always make my feet hurt,” you groan as you massage the bottom of your foot.

He walks over to you and grabs your arm, walking you over to the sofa and holding his hand out, inviting you to sit down. He sits next to you and waves his hands for you to rest your feet on his lap. “Don’t tell the guys I’m doing this,” he jokes. “It’ll ruin my reputation.” He starts to gently rub your feet, making them instantly feel worlds better.

“Your secret is safe with me,” you tell him as the two of you exchange soft smiles. “Wouldn’t want anyone thinking better of you.” You start to chuckle as he pretends to be offended. “What? I don’t want anyone knowing you’re actually a nice guy!” You make him somewhat perplexed with that statement – you can see it all over his face – so you attempt to do your best to explain. “I thought you’d turn out to be an asshole,” you giggle. “Color me surprised when you actually weren’t one,” you say with a shrug, but he still doesn’t understand what you mean. “I thought the day after that first time you’d treat me like garbage,” you say with your tone turning less humored and more serious.

He started to snigger. “And here I am, a month later, rubbing your feet.” You lean your elbow on the back of the sofa and rest your head in your hand. “Honestly, if you were terrible in bed I probably would have,” he laughed before moving to meet his face with yours. “But you’re not,” he said before giving you a peck on the lips, “and I happen to like you, so I’m going to keep you for as long as I can.” He gives you another quick peck and stands up, starting to take off his tie and unbutton his shirt. “Let’s go swimming,” he tells you with a grin.

You stay where you are on the sofa, watching him take off his shirt and tie, enjoying the show. He throws his shirt at you before walking to the back to get some towels. You hurry and take off your dress and bra and put his shirt on, leaving it unbuttoned. He walks back in, wrapped in a towel at his waist and carrying another, and he grins when he sees you standing there in his shirt. “Well?” you say. “Don’t just stand there,” you giggle as you turn and walk to the back door that leads to the pool. “Hope you don’t have nosy neighbors.” You walk out as he slowly follows, never taking his eyes off you, or letting the grin leave his face. You step down the first few steps into the pool and turn to see where he is. “Are you coming or not?” you ask as you take off the shirt.

“Not yet,” he snickers. “But I will be later.” He takes the towel off and follows you into the water, grabbing you from behind, pulling you close and turning you to face him.

“Excuse me, sir,” you say as you tap him on his mouth. “I came here to swim. Not be accosted.” You giggle as you duck yourself under the water and swim to the other side and poke your head out.

He goes under the water and swims to you, playfully pinching you when he gets close, before popping up. “Why do you toy with me so?” he chuckles as he gives you a kiss, holding your face in his palm.

“Because it’s fun,” you giggle. “And you deserve it.”

“Deserve it?” he asked, laughing. “Why do I deserve it?”

“For every single time you toyed with me.”

“Are you keeping a list or something?” he asked as he started to jokingly poke you.

“That time, I think it was a Wednesday, when you were in the studio licking your lips while staring at me behind the glass, smirking because you knew exactly what you were doing to me.” You hurried and moved away from him. “Or that time when you, John and I went to that bar for a few drinks? When you kept staring at me with those damn eyes, smirking because you knew exactly what you were doing to me.” He moved closer to you, pinning you against the side of the pool, looking down at you with that goddamn irresistible smile of his. “I’ll even go back to when I was…” You stopped and started giggling. “When I was 13.” You rest your elbows on the side of the pool, lifting yourself up slightly and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him close to you with your legs.

He rolled his eyes and pursed his lips into a tight smile. “How can you possibly blame me for something that happened in…?” He started to do the math in his head and once it dawned on him what year it was when you were 13, he started to shake his head and rub the back of his neck and chuckle. “Wow.” That’s all he could say.

“1975, my very first concert. My dad took me and somehow managed to get us on the front row.” You raise an eyebrow at him and smirked. “Do you have any idea how bad my hormones were raging? It was just cruel, Roger.”

He put his hands down on the side next to your elbows and playfully snarled. “I’m not sorry for any of it,” he growled, leaning down to nibble on your neck and collarbone, making you laugh loudly. “Is that why you didn’t wear panties tonight?” he asked. “To toy with me?”

“Did it work?” you titter. “I think it worked.” He licked his lips and smiled, shaking his head yes, and leaned in to give you a deep, long kiss before softly kissing his way from your lips to your neck.

“Mmm hmm,” he hummed, still kissing your neck, your legs still wrapped around him, gripping him tighter. He raises his head so his eyes can meet yours. “I like this,” he tells you with a soft grin. “Being here with you. Being anywhere with you.” He moves a hand to your hair. “Just being with you,” he whispers.

“Me too,” you whisper back, flashing a troubled smile, trying not to let your emotions get the best of you. “What happens next?” you ask, not sure if you want to know the answer. “After you’re done here. What happens?”

“Whatever we want,” he tells you with a smile. “We aren’t constrained…”

You move your legs that are wrapped around him and hastily swim away, climb out of the pool and wrap yourself in a towel. “Don’t tell me things you think I want to hear, Roger,” you snap. He follows you out of the pool, quickly, and grabs a towel before grabbing you. “Tell me the truth, not some lie to keep me from…”

He pulls you into a kiss, cutting you off from finishing your statement. “How many times do I have to tell you?” he quietly asks. “How many times do I have to tell you that you…”

“That I’m special? That I’m different from all the others? That I actually mean something?” you spew out as you roll your eyes. “I’m not stupid, Roger. I know how this goes.” He holds your arms as you try to push yourself away. “You tell me the things you think I want to hear, keep living this fantasy with me, but then things will happen and I’ll never see you again after you leave.”

“No, that’s not…”

“That’s exactly how it will happen. You may not want it to, but that’s what will happen.”

He starts to laugh and pulls you in for a hug that you don’t want to be in, but he forces you into it anyway. “If you think you already know what’s going to happen, why did you ask me?” He holds your head against his chest, cupping the side of your head in his palm. “If I were 10 years younger, then your words would be true, but I’m done being that person. I’ve done it enough.” His laughing fades away, but he still holds you close. “One day I’m going to make you realize that I’m not lying to you.” Your body relaxes, all tension evaporating, and you realize that you’re being ridiculous. “Come on,” he tells you, letting go of his hug and grabbing your hand and walking to the house. “I have rocky road ice cream in the freezer and that show on the telly you like will be coming on soon.”

And just like that, everything was okay. He remembered your favorite ice cream, he gives the best hugs, and that damn smile. “Roger?” you call, getting his attention, making him stop and turn to you. “When did I tell you that I like rocky road?”

He started to laugh. “You didn’t. I just noticed every time you have ice cream it’s rocky road.” He started walking again, still holding your hand.

“Roger?” you call him again. He stops walking, again, and sits on the chair, pulling you down to sit on his lap. “What really happens next?” Your tone is serious, and he takes the hint that it’s time to be straightforward.

After taking a deep breath, he exhales and wraps his arms around you. “Munich. I have to go to Munich to finish this album.” You nod your head, looking away. “And then the first single will be released, so there’s going to be promotional things to do.” You don’t turn your head back to him as he holds you tighter. “Some videos between all of that. Then a tour…” His voice starts to trail off. You look at him and force a smile, appreciative of the fact that he’s telling you the truth and not some glorified bullshit about how he won’t forget about you. “I’ll be busy, but I will always make time to…” He sees the look in your eyes and his heart starts to sink. “I will always make time for you.” You roll your eyes and start to make a snippy remark, but he hurries and kisses you before you can. “I told you before, I’m not giving you up any time soon, and I mean it.” You turn your head away again, but this time he forces your head to turn back. “Y/N, why is it so hard for you to accept the fact that I am crazy about you?” You open you mouth to speak, but he isn’t done. “I know you know your worth, so it’s not because you don’t think you’re good enough. And I know it’s not because…”

“Because what in the hell can I offer you? I’m just starting my life. I just finished high school three years ago. I don’t even know my own ass from a hole in the ground sometimes. I’m a whiny, spoiled brat most of the time. Before you showed up, the biggest issue I’ve ever had to deal with was learning how to not blow my entire paycheck on clothes so I could eat.” You’re getting annoyed because he’s looking at you with this amused look and you aren’t finding any of this funny, at all. “This isn’t funny, Roger!” you yell. “I can’t take care of myself half the time. I can’t pay my rent without mom and dad’s help. I don’t even know how to boil an egg.”

“Neither do I. We can learn how together,” he laughs. “And maybe I like spoiled brats.”

You’re still annoyed, and now you’re getting testy. “Maybe you just like spoiled brats who suck your dick good.”

“Well, I won’t lie to you, Y/N,” he chuckles, still amused. “You do suck my dick good.”

“Oh, fuck you, Roger,” you groan, trying to stand up so you can walk away dramatically, but he holds you down.

He can’t stop laughing. “You do that good, too.” He pulls you close, your back to his chest. “You’re cute when you get feisty.”

You keep trying to wiggle out of his grasp but he’s winning the battle. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation,” you fuss, trying not to let him know that you find all of this amusing as well. “Can you please be serious?”

He gives you a kiss on your shoulder, still chuckling, and you stop putting up your fight and accept defeat, so he loosens his hold on you. “Stop overthinking everything. Not everything needs a perfectly planned timeline.”

“I’m not asking for a timeline,” you groan. “You can afford to do things on a whim. I can’t.”

“If this is about money, I’ve got plenty of that,” he tells you, not bragging – he’s trying to calm your nerves. “I can help you…”

“No!” you yell, but quickly tone it down. “Not money, not that.” You turn your body on his lap and wrap an arm around his shoulders. “I’m trying to find my place in life. You know yours. I don’t know mine.”

He gives you a soft smile and an equally soft kiss. “Maybe your place is with me.”

“I don’t belong in your world, Roger,” you sigh. “Why don’t you understand that?” He doesn’t understand. He’s looking at you trying to understand why you think that, but he can’t figure it out. “You were meant for the life you have. I’m still trying to figure out what mine is supposed to be.”

“Maybe you’re supposed to be in mine,” he whispers.

You don’t know why, but you’re starting to get frustrated again because it feels like he’s not listening to what you’re saying. You know he’s hearing you, but you don’t think he’s really listening. “We’ve known each other for a month. How can you possibly know…”

He starts to chuckle. “Y/N, I knew almost immediately after meeting you that you were someone special.” You’re giving him a blank stare, and he knows you don’t believe him. He still doesn’t understand why you won’t believe anything he’s telling you. “Is it my profession that’s making this difficult or the age difference?”

“Both,” you whisper. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve met a ton of guys like you.” He raises an eyebrow and starts to smirk. “No, I didn’t have sex with them…” You start to giggle. “With all of them,” you correct yourself. “And one thing I learned right away was that you older guys turn stupid when a younger girl looks your way.”

“Oh, is that so?” he starts to laugh. “Like you young girls don’t get excited by us old guys.” He starts to tickle you and nibble on your neck, making you tear up with laughter. He stops, and looks into your eyes. “Do I treat you like those other old blokes?”

Your face turns serious and you hold a palm to his cheek. “No,” you whisper. “And that’s what scares me.”

“I told you last night I’m scared too,” he says. “And it’s because you don’t treat me like those other young girls.” You both started to laugh. “There’s only been a couple of them, by the way. This isn’t a habit of mine.” You roll your eyes, humored by his nervous need to explain himself and stand up, not saying a word and start to walk inside. He’s starts laughing again. “Oh, come on, Y/N. Where are you going?”

“Shower,” you tell him, yelling from over your shoulder. When you get to the door, turn around and look at him. You drop your towel, standing there naked. “If you’re not there in 3 minutes I’m locking the door and you can’t join me.” You smirk as you turn back and walk in, and he shakes his head as he jumps up to run after you.

[part 6>>]