#it needed more slow moments i think. the two scenes where the group all drinks together (minus one awful joke in the bar scene) are like

[irregularbillcipher]

watched the musical demon show (don't wanna name it so this post isn't in the tags) at the behest of an IRL friend and i can already tell this is going to be a piece of media where i absolutely cannot stop thinking about it, not because i really love the show as-is, but because it has so many individual components i really like and find incredibly fun or compelling, and i'm so frustrated that it doesn't come together for me

i think the main thing i can say about it as a show, setting aside some of the insensitive choices that were made that i really don't feel qualified to tackle or talk about, is that the entire thing sort of gives off this vibe of someone really excited to show you every single oc they made in high school and college and i very genuinely mean that in both the best and worst ways possible

there are some good hooks for season two though so i will absolutely give them that

[thebigbiwolf]

Starvin', Darlin' - Chapter 1

Pairing: Not quite friends to lovers Astarion x OC/F!Tav

Chapter Summary: Astarion knows his power is waning, and seducing their leader Evelyn has gone poorly at best. If he is to keep himself in the tiefling's good graces, he's left with no other options. He must drink from a thinking creature.

Everything goes according to plan... until it doesn't.

Fic Tags: Minor spoilers for Act 1, The Bite Scene, Emotional slow burn, Angst, Teasing, Frottage (god I'm sorry), Pining, This is my first ever fic so idk how to tag things appropriately but you get the gist.

Fic Warnings: Eventual Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubcon (I cannot stress this enough), Bloodlust/Loss of control, Mentions of blood, lmk if you need anything else tagged.

Word Count: 6.1k

Read on Ao3: Here

A/N: I started this as a way to get this fruity fuck out of my head but I think I just made the situation worse. If you know me, no you don't. If you've followed me for a long time, sorry in advance. I may make this a mini-series depending on time and reception, but we'll see! OC is a rogue who seduces men to gain their favor but we'll get to that in later chapters.

Astarion's trance did not come easily that night; his hunger manifesting as a throbbing headache that refused to subside. It had been hours of tossing and turning in his tent, willing his body to settle, forcing himself to ruminate on the past few weeks.

Before he joined this disgustingly merry little group of adventurers, hunting rabbits and the occasional boar had been enough to sustain him. In fact, dining on larger animals had been a significant upgrade from the meager flies and rats he’d become so accustomed to under his master’s rule, but that was before all of this incessant hard labor. 

He could feel his strength waning over the last several days. His senses were dulling, his reflexes numbed. Just this morning, he had failed to gain the upper hand with a particularly nasty kobold. He paid for it dearly when the damned thing all but pummeled him into the ground. 

Luckily, Lae’zel had been there, hammer at the ready to divorce its jaw from its head. Beautifully done, by the way, but his blunder did not go unnoticed. All this sneaking around for barely a nibble during his watch was beginning to take its toll.

Astarion knew he was on thin ice, considering his relationship with their fearless, incomparable leader began with him pulling a knife on her and grappling her to the ground -  in front of the damn wizard, no less. Some friction was to be expected.

But things hadn’t progressed much between the two of them since then. The pair rarely saw eye to eye on anything, and she seemed to have an innate passion for berating him over his unwillingness to stop for every single injured bird or helpless child as they traveled - as if playing the part of a hero was a favorable distraction from the literal time bomb in both their party and their heads. 

“The world is full of potential allies, Astarion,” she had told him, sprinkled with a hint of her usual irritation. “I’m simply expanding our network.” As if a group of starving refugees and mud-slinging tree huggers were going to find them a decent healer any sooner. At this point, he’d heavily considered taking his chances with the goblins. At least they knew how to have fun.

What made matters even more frustrating was that Evelyn was seemingly unaffected by his charms.

Just how exactly was he supposed to secure his place under her protection when the woman barely spared him a second glance? Surely he wasn’t losing his touch. He was a master of seduction. Thousands of others had thrown themselves at his feet for far less effort. He’s had centuries of practice. The mere notion would be ridiculous.

In fact, he couldn’t remember a single moment in the last two hundred years where his advances had been so callously brushed off. Every attempt to make her laugh with his (admittedly morbid) quips was met with her chastising him for being insensitive and making threats to send him back to camp. She dismissed every flirtation, even if her lovely little blush betrayed her. She seemed determined to make him play her little game. He just hasn’t quite figured out what the rules are, yet.

Astarion couldn’t afford to take any more chances. If sleeping his way into her good graces wasn't an option, he was left with little choice. He wanted to make himself indispensable, so he was going to have to take drastic measures to ensure that his strength and physical prowess would never come into question. At least, not again.

He would have to drink from a thinking creature.

The idea of it was as invigorating as it was terrifying. He had spent the last two centuries enduring unimaginable cruelty, starved in ways mortals couldn’t begin to imagine--for years--without any reprieve. 

No, starving doesn’t even scratch the surface. No words could ever describe the tortuous, gnawing, ravenous hunger that consumed his every waking moment under the heavy weight of Cazador’s boot.

Though, Cazador wasn’t here now, was he? 

Curious.

Astarion had spent some time ruminating on who to approach before settling on Evelyn, though his options were limited at best. The githyanki was entirely out of the question; gods forbid he get caught, she would make quick work of him without allowing him so much as a single word of explanation. Shadowheart was…tempting, but that mark on her hand frequently caused her pain, and who knows if that magic would have any affect on him or worse, her taste? And Gale, well, he would rather subsist on a diet of garlic sprinkled with holy water before he put his lips anywhere near that man.

So, Evelyn it was. The tiefling wasn't terrible to look at. She was a younger woman full of vitality, so surely she wouldn’t miss a bit of her blood. He would just have to mind the horns. 

He would be in and out. A quick nibble, then he'd be right as rain. One bite, he tells himself, barely enough to leave a mark. Then, he’ll pass it off and say that they had been attacked by bats during his watch and, not wanting to wake everyone, he quietly dispatched them and saved the day. Unfortunately, not before one of those wretched little beasts managed to puncture their illustrious hero. It was the perfect plan. Infallible. They'll eat it right up.

He continues passing through camp undetected, catlike in his silence, but when he reaches the canvas entrance of her tent ready to pounce, he freezes at the sight of her.

She looked…different while she slept. Softer, gentler, almost; surrounded by a nest of fur blankets, snoozing away instead of attacking his ego. Her hair was puddled beneath her head and horns like dark, red wine; rich and unrestrained by her usual loose bun. 

Another realization hits him: this is the first time Astarion has ever seen her in her sleep clothes, a simple basic black wrapping across her breasts. Practical. Of course.

Her skin is pale enough to rival his own, even with the warmth of the firelight. She’s lying on her side, her uncovered shoulder lightly dusted in freckles, much like her cheeks. Her lips are slightly parted, and in the silence of the night air, he can hear her light, even breaths.

Cute, he thinks to himself. He could almost forgive her for being so maddeningly aloof with a face like that. Almost. 

Astarion leans over to brush her hair away from her neck; the strands softer than he had anticipated. The thrum of her pulse underneath is magnetic. It pulls at his very being, beckoning him closer.

Settling on his knees beside her, his arms form a cage around her body.

He takes in the image of her form one last time and allows himself a moment to savor it. She is toned and lithe, much like himself, but smaller. Perfect. Delectable. 

He bends closer, feeling her gentle puffs of breath on his shoulder; the warmth of her body. His ears ring with anticipation; manicured nails clench the sheets by her head.

She’s going to be so-

Something brushes his leg, hidden beneath the furs.

Her tail. He forgot about her bloody tail.

Evelyn stirs, and fully awakens right as his teeth are at her throat, eyes meeting his. 

Shit.

“Shit.”

With incredible speed, she reflexively reaches for the dagger closest to her pillow, lunging at him. He just barely seizes her arm in time to save himself from being skewered.

“What in the hells are you-” he clasps his palm over her mouth to silence her.

The girl’s eyes are wild with panic, their golden hues burning a hole in his skull. He notices them flit down to where his body hovers over hers before she begins to struggle against him. “No, no, shh,” he whispers. “It’s not what it looks like, I swear.” 

Her expression shifts from panicked to confused. She ceases her squirming. Good. Well, not good, but better. He can work with this.

“When I take my hand away, you have to promise not to scream and wake the whole camp,” he continues, hushed, “unless you’d like for them to find us tangled up in your bedroll. You wouldn’t want to give them the wrong impression now, would you, darling?”

Her eyes widen. Her face flushes deep red, warming his palm against her skin.

There, he thinks, that should-

Her body turns, and suddenly he feels the hard edge of Evelyn’s knee make contact with the corner of his ribs. A direct hit. Pain shoots up his chest as he rolls off of her and onto his side, clutching himself and coughing, heaving air back into his lungs.

She hurriedly covers herself with her sheets, glaring at him as he struggles to collect his breath. He can see her fuming through the tears forming in the corner of his vision. If looks could kill, he’s sure she would have him skinned alive. Maybe use what's left of him to scare away the crows. 

She’s still holding the knife out toward him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? What do you think you’re doing in here?” 

A fair question, one he was not prepared to answer. Perfect. He’s just going to have to wing this. Possibly with two broken ribs. He can’t believe he expected this to go any smoother.

“I-I wasn’t going to hurt you.” He raises a hand and falls back on his thighs with a grunt, grimacing in pain. His other clutches his side, a bit of sweat forming at his brow. “I just…” 

Okay, this is it. He’s got this.

“I just needed, well,” 

Aaaaand,

“Blood.”

There. Excellent form, Astarion. Good show.

“I - You needed what?”

She blinks at him, whether in disbelief or shock, he cannot say.

It takes a moment before his words start to sink in. She takes that time to scan over his body, purposefully. 

He couldn’t quite tell if she was looking for something or if she was deciding whether or not to believe him, but then again, what other explanation could he give? 

He works over his options in his head, considering just how difficult it would be to pass this all off as a terrible joke, but just as he’s about to open his mouth to start on damage control, he hears Evelyn heave a deep sigh. She lowers her weapon, then tosses it to the side, massaging her eyes in frustration. 

Oh. Well, alright.

After some time, he watches her expression soften into understanding as a few notable things dawn on her. He’s never really eaten any meals with them, has he? Then there was the drained boar, which he so carelessly left out by the road.  The damned beast hadn’t even taken the edge off that night, and he was so desperate to quell the nagging ache in his stomach that it lay there forgotten until she found it the next morning. He admitted to her himself that it had been drained by a vampire, after all…

A bit of silence follows.

Astarion doesn’t say a word, doesn’t dare move a muscle. He just allows her the time to process whatever she’s feeling. What’s important is that he’s still alive, she hasn't run him out of camp, and she hasn’t screamed for help. 

He may be able to salvage this, yet.

She scratches the back of her head, carding her fingers through her hair to ease her irritation before finally meeting his gaze.

“Astarion.” The sound of his name leaving her lips pulls him from his thoughts. He can see the disappointment on her soft features just as plainly as he can feel it humming through their psionic link. 

He didn’t think himself capable of guilt, but there was an emotion akin to it brewing within his chest. Ugh. He breaks eye contact, searching for anything to pull his attention away from his discomfort. The miscellaneous bags of clothing and trinkets she had scattered about her tent were just oh so fascinating. And was that a new hairbrush? Hm. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He’s taken aback by her question. He expected a more offensive reaction. A few insults, maybe ones pertaining to his sharp teeth or bloodlust, but an olive branch?

After all the lies, the invasion of privacy, and the failed attempt at assault?

She really is just full of surprises.

“Well, we aren’t exactly close, you and I. Though, you must admit, I’ve made several attempts to…” He waves a hand between them for emphasis, “mend the gap, so to speak.”

“Well, have you ever considered maybe not being such an asshole?”

Ouch.

But in fairness, no.

“I…” He thinks carefully about what to say next. The buzzing behind his eye socket acts as a threat, reminding him of the very fragile barrier between their minds. Should she choose to dig her claws in and pry the information out of him, she may find more than he's comfortable sharing, so Astarion makes a decision that surprises even himself. 

He chooses to be genuine.

“At best, I was sure you’d say no. More likely, you’d ram a stake through my ribs.” He gestures towards the dagger at her side. “But believe me, I’m not some monster. I’ve never killed another person.”

Evelyn raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Well, not for food,” he quickly corrects. “I’ve been subsisting on animals. Boars—like the one you found the other day—deer, kobolds, whatever I can get my hands on.”

“And what exactly was the plan here? You were just going to kill me and expect the others not to notice?” 

He recoils at the accusation but fights to keep his expression neutral. “I had no intention of killing you. I would never do such a thing.” He leans in closer to her and lowers his voice, as if letting her in on a secret. “We need each other.” 

Evelyn shifts to lean her weight on her arm as she listens, dark hair falling to the side of her shoulder. With the new level of exposure, he can hear her pulse settling into a more comfortable rhythm. 

He swallows. Hard. His hunger is rearing its ugly head again, just at the sound of her.

Oh well, might as well lay all the cards out on the table while we’re at it.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and continues, “As it stands right now, I’m too slow. Too weak. If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better.” There is a question hidden in his words, a favor to be asked.

She seems pensive as she considers him, mulling over everything he’s said in her mind. She lifts a thumb to her mouth and starts nibbling on her nail, no longer looking at him. Nervous too, no doubt. How could she not be with what he’s asking of her, as if he had any right to ask in the first place? 

“I understand you detest me, but-”

Evelyn appears to snap to some conclusion, sitting up straighter and placing her arms to her sides before she responds.

“No, I should detest you, Astarion, but I don’t. You just don’t impress me.”

Wow.

It feels as though he’s been slapped. He barks out a laugh that’s a bit too loud for the intimate setting, trying to mitigate the damage to his ego. “Excuse me?”

She has the nerve to shrug at him. “I’ve seen every trick you’ve used to fill your little black book, probably a thousand items over. I’ve used them all myself. So, frankly, I'm uninspired.”

For the first time in his undead life, he’s totally speechless. His face contorts in indignation, disbelief. This devil.

There is something dangerous in her expression as she leans further forward, neck tilted, exposing herself to him. Her eyes are hooded, with long lashes casting shadows over her cheeks. Her shoulders relax as she lifts her chin to stare down her nose at him, sneering. 

He works his jaw, clenching the muscles unconsciously.

“Astarion, men are idiots. I’ve spent my entire adult life toying with them and robbing them blind. I’ve heard and seen it all. You really believed a few empty praises and mediocre jokes would have me jumping into bed with you? 

Wha- Mediocre?

He opens his mouth with every intention of retaliating, but Evelyn’s palm unexpectedly rests itself on his calf, and the action stuns him into silence. She begins leisurely dragging her nails up towards his thigh. 

His body responds involuntarily; eagerly, frustratingly, the delicate little motion leaving his skin prickling with excitement. 

She regards his chest, admiring the hard planes of muscle. Then, her attention slowly inches down the toned curve of his abs until, finally, they stop at where his cock hardens disobediently beneath his pants.

“Your pretty face doesn’t detract from the fact that you’re still just a man.”

It finally clicks.

She’s baiting him, attempting to get a rise out of him. 

Hm. Impressive.

Normally, at this point in her little game, he assumes most men would take her flirtations at face value. They would likely mistake this performance as an enthusiastic plea to bed her, but Astarion is not like most men. He sees her little game for what it is and recognizes it with ease because he has spent lifetimes playing it himself.

She leans back, satisfied with her little show, and smirks at him.

“So, you admit I have a pretty face?” He teases, his own smile twisting, becoming more mischievous.

She rolls her eyes, but this time she laughs. It’s a soft sound, genuine.

A pinkish hue crawls up her face and paints the tips of her pointed ears, but he can’t discern if that's supposed to be part of the act or, more likely, an unfortunate side-effect of the living experience. He’s finding it hard not to admire her dedication, regardless. 

Well, that’s quite enough of that. Back to business, then.

“It’s settled,” Astarion clasps his hands together, “I’ll just need to impress you with my more eclectic talents if I am to earn your favor. We can start by gracefully slaughtering a few goblins, depending on how the rest of tonight goes. Which is entirely up to you, of course.”

The tiefling squints at him. “Oh no, if you want something from me, darling, you’re going to have to ask politely. With manners. You have those, don’t you? Familiar with them, at least?”

Under normal circumstances, he would find this amusing; nothing like a little role reversal to spice up the evening. But this feels different, heavier, as if her feigning indifference will alleviate the weight of what he's asking of her.

Fine. He supposes relinquishing a little bit of his pride is a fair price to pay.

He takes a deep breath. "Please." 

"Please, what?" She lifts an eyebrow at him expectantly. "Come on, Astarion. Use your words. I know you’re quite fond of them."

He scoffs at her shamelessness, and for a moment, he honestly considers whether this is worth it, but he can't back out now. He'll make it through this, surely. He's been through worse. 

Through gritted teeth, he barely spits out, "Please, may I drink from you?" 

Gods. He's going to be sick.

"Good boy. That wasn't so hard, was it?" 

He’s going to fucking kill her.

There is an uncomfortable silence that follows. So many unspoken questions and a rising suspense that makes Evelyn adjust herself uncomfortably where she sits. Astarion is also musing to himself, still wondering how it's all come to this. Why did he choose her, again? Something about her not killing him right away? Death may have been preferable to this, actually, but he is pulled back to reality when she finally speaks up.

“So," she's picking lint off one of her pillows, avoiding his gaze as she asks, "how exactly should we do this?”

Well, it occurs to him that he doesn’t actually know. He understands the mechanics behind it, of course, but how exactly were they supposed to go about this?

Should he tell her that he’s never actually fed from a person before? Would it make her more or less comfortable to know that he’s just as clueless about this as she is? 

No. He decides against it. Astarion has always done best when he’s playing the role of the confident seductor. This should be no different. He’ll just treat this as if he’s bedding a virgin: guide her, take things slow, and she’ll no doubt be begging him for more soon enough. It’ll be easy. All she has to do is behave.

“Lie back and get comfortable.”

He moves himself closer to her, settling at her side as she does what she’s told. The flap of the tent remains open, letting in the faintest amount of warmth and illuminating Evelyn’s features. With such close proximity, he can see the gold flames within her irises flickering and dancing, a genetic trait attributed to some luckier members of her race, and a feature of her’s that Astarion would have never otherwise noticed. 

He can hear her pulse quickening as he closes the space between them, lifting himself a bit to settle above her, once again caging her between his arms. One of his knees parts her legs, and he can tell in the quietness of her tent that she’s struggling to hide her uneven breaths. Her stare is intense, but he can’t read the meaning behind it.

He decides to give her another out, just in case. Better safe than sorry. 

“We don't have to do this, you know,” his voice is composed, as if his body wasn't currently screaming with anticipation. “I appreciate the consideration, regardless.” 

“I’m fine.” Her response is clipped, dismissive. Her face remains stoic though her fingers fidget with the blankets at her sides. She had moved the furs to give him better access to her body. The darkness inside him preens at the concept.

Best get on with it, then.

He leans down and, unable to help himself, takes in the scent of her: woodsmoke and the faintest hint of vanilla, which he had watched her pick up from a merchant in the grove just the other day. “For Gale’s cooking,” she amended, when he gave her a questioning look.

He gives her one more moment to stop him.

She doesn’t.

A bit of pressure on the skin before it snaps and gives way, his fangs finally sinking into her. He can feel Evelyn’s body tense at the sudden intrusion. She hisses through gritted teeth, her arms involuntarily raising at her sides, reaching for him, but she stops herself before she touches him. He wants to tell her it's fine, expected, even, the need to ground herself, but all of his higher thoughts are plunged into complete chaos when he finally registers her taste. 

Every cell in his body awakens.

The iron flavor of her floods his throat and sets his nerves ablaze. Its heat fills, expands, and splits every crack in his self control into deep, cavernous fissures. 

A groan escapes Astarions throat before he has the chance to quell it. Of course it would be like this - drinking from a thinking creature. Drinking from her. He understands now why Cazador forbade this. Before, he had assumed it was a matter of keeping his spawn weak and compliant, but this was entirely different. This was far more than a method of control. The bastard had been withholding ecstasy greater than he’d ever known.

A feeling swells in him, crashing like waves through his veins. Warmth. It invades him and fills every fiber of his being. He wasn’t naive enough to believe his first time wouldn't have some sort of great, emotional impact, but this? 

This was everything. How was he ever supposed to come back from this?

"Agh - Astarion," he barely registers her pathetic little whine through the haze. She finally allows herself to grab onto him, the loose sleeve of his nightshirt tightening in her fist. For purchase, he tells himself with what little is left of his consciousness, practical. That is until he lowers himself fully onto her in an attempt to relieve the strain on his biceps.

With no space left between their bodies, he doesn’t anticipate the blazing heat of her core on his thigh, even through the several layers of clothing. She gasps at the sudden pressure,  fingers twitching, nails digging little crescent shapes into his skin. What surprises him most, though, is when the taste in his mouth melts into a flavor so much sweeter. 

Something primal within him recognizes it instantly; it twists in his gut and sits there heavily, as if the emotion were his own: arousal.

Oh.

She is burning for him.

Good.

After all of that teasing, the woman he’s spent weeks enduring endless lectures from actually does desire him, or at the very least desires his body. Which is just as favorable, in his opinion. It’s just nice to know all his hard work hasn’t gone to waste. 

If she lets him live, he's going to spend every waking moment tormenting her over this. His lips vibrate against her skin as he chuckles to himself, causing some of her blood to run down his chin in hot rivulets, blooming new stains onto her sheets. 

He knows he’s had enough. He means to let go, he truly does, lest he end up draining their groups' only hope of survival. Surely that wouldn't go over well with their companions. Pitchforks, and all that. 

But her whimpering, her heat, coupled with the ferocity of his hunger, all provoke a feeling that has been building beneath the surface which he’s unable to name; it's desperate and possessive, a predator guarding its kill from hungry scavengers. The monster in him casts a dark shadow over his mind as he feeds. His body no longer feels as though it is his own, betraying him; a slave to the demands of his appetite. 

He needs her, needs all of her, and he cannot will himself to stop, too lost in sensation and the sound of her mewling to bow to his higher thinking. 

He mindlessly rocks his weight into her and grunts—a slow, unintentional grind against her mound. The motion comes easy to him, like breathing - instinctual. The blunt edge of his clothed cock drags deliciously through her parted thighs. Evelyn’s breath hitches at the feeling, her squirming beneath him giving him the sickest form of satisfaction, but the animal within him demands her compliance.

His hand gathers her loose hair and pulls, growling, warning her to keep still. She whines at the force, back arching. The other grabs her arm, pinning it down, and tightens, thumb gently stroking against her wrist.

"Astarion,"

She’s no doubt making a mess in her smallclothes as she quivers beneath him, all flushed cheeks and furrowed brows. She may deny it later, but her taste tells him everything he needs to know.

Her body is burning against his cool skin, and her gasps are only spurring him on. He laps at the wound, dragging his tongue up the length of her throat, indulging himself in her. It's too much. 

He feels her pulse weakening, her rhythm slowing.

It isn't enough. 

He's about to latch on to her again, teeth at the ready and blinded by his eagerness, when he suddenly feels a piercing sensation behind his eye - the tadpole, he assumes, writhing in panic. Screeching at him to open himself to it. The discomfort is just enough to pull him back into his body. Then Evelyn's voice invades his mind. 

‘Astarion, enough!’

He disentangles his limbs from hers, practically jumping off of the poor woman. He’s gasping for breath as he comes to his senses, the mix of her blood and his saliva staining his lips pink. It dribbles down his chin. He wipes his face with the back of his knuckles and licks them clean.

But then, the cold realization of what he’s done is thrust upon him like a bucket of iced water, shocking him back to the present. He’s going to need to come up with one hell of an apology to get himself out of this one. Or maybe he should just run? Baldur’s Gate is really only a few weeks travel at most. 

“Shit,” he whispers, more to himself than to her. "Are you alright, dear?"

Evelyn's eyes meet his. Her pupils are blown, almost entirely overtaking the gold of her irises when she glances away from him to assess the damage.

"Gods damn it," she quietly groans and applies pressure to the wound, thankfully finding that it isn't too deep or particularly painful. She tends to it, wiping the thin sheen of sweat from her brow. She searches for a rag as she avoids his concerned stare

A deep purple bruise spreads across her pale skin. Small red droplets trickle down the length of her nape, dampening her black breast band before soaking into it and disappearing entirely. He collects himself, willing his mind to cease its incessant urge to lick the damned liquid from her neck. She is flushed and sweating, unbalanced, panting from exertion as much as her own embarrassment. Her dark hair is a tangled mess from his attention. She looks ravaged. 

It… suits her.

Astarion clears his throat, trying his best not to get caught admiring his handiwork.

She was right about one thing. He was, at least in some respects, just a man... 

“Here,” he insists, grabbing one of the smaller furs and holding it up to her. She takes it from him without acknowledgement.

“I -” He begins, but he’s at a loss for words. What does one say in this situation? ‘My sincerest apologies. I don’t know what came over me! I must have gotten swept up in the moment!’ as if that pitiful excuse would overshadow the fact that he manhandled and almost devoured her.

He wants to laugh, but the sound dies in his throat.

He begins to worry that she really may not forgive him. He fears she'll wake the whole camp, or maybe finally cast him out like the monster he is. He wouldn't blame her. She took a great leap of faith in trusting him with this, and he rutted against her like some horny bugbear. Or worse, a teenager, he sneers.

Evelyn pulls the rabbit skin away from her neck, examining it. The brown hairs are matted and crimson, but the bleeding has stopped. She runs her fingers over the puncture marks, feeling the skin dip slightly where his fangs pierced her. She sighs with resignation, surely thinking about how the others will approach her with a plethora of questions tomorrow morning, face reddening at the idea.

“You could have warned me, you know.” She rolls her eyes at him. “I didn’t realize I was agreeing to…all of that.” 

His heart sinks. 

Of course she thinks it was on purpose. I mean, look at him. He’s all but thrown himself at her since the moment they met. He’s spent this entire time playing the part of the rake. It's only natural she assumes the worst.

“Evelyn, darling,” speaking her name aloud brings her focus back onto him. 

The gravity of it is suffocating, condensing the already small space they shared. The tension pulls at something undefinable within him that he thought was long dead—a sincerity that betrays the character he’s been crafting for as long as he can remember. 

It sways him.

More truths to forgive more transgressions, then. A fair transaction.

“I’ve had this condition for over two centuries, but, truth be told,” he clears his throat again, because ugh this is awful. And why does she have to stare at him like that, with her earnest, wet eyes? “You were my first. I’ve only ever fed on beasts.” 

The implication is there: how could he have known?

His confession takes her by surprise. “You don’t…” she pauses, taking everything that transpired tonight into consideration. He must be giving her a look akin to pleading, because she takes mercy on him and disregards whatever question she was about to ask. 

“Please tell me you didn’t do that to the boar.”

Seriously, a joke?

He barks out a laugh before he can stifle it. Whether it's from the sheer ridiculousness of the question or the disbelief towards her acceptance of it all, he truly doesn’t know.

“No, my dear. Just you, and you were delectable.”

Her expression is difficult to read. She’s not looking at him; refuses to, when she replies, “So then, did it work?”

Astarion moves to stand, peering down at her form. He exhales in relief, feeling as though he is a century younger. His muscles are lax; all the stress has been drained from his body. A novel experience. “Yes, I would say so. I feel stronger. My mind is clear. I feel…happy.”

He adds the last word in an effort to appease her, but it does ring true. His main source of joy since he contracted this affliction has been causing others pain, ripping out throats and such. This feels distinctly different, less exhilarating, but pleasant all the same.

“Well, I look forward to seeing you fight.” 

He acknowledges her, then stretches his back out, extending his arms to the sky with his hands clasping behind his head. The motion pulls the rest of his nightshirt out of his trousers and tugs it upward, exposing the hard edges of his hips. He can’t confirm it, but he swears he sees her eyes flit quickly towards them before making an expeditious retreat.

“Shouldn’t take long. So many people need killing.” He lifts the flap of her tent to peek outside. No sign of anyone stirring, and the night is still young. Knowing the wildlife in this area, he may still have a chance to sate himself. With his newfound strength, he may even be able to wrangle up a bear. What a feast that would make.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, you’re invigorating, but I need something more filling.” He bows his head to her in thanks. 

He’s about to step outside, one foot exits the canvas before the rest of him, when it hits him that he feels…odd, uncomfortable leaving her like this. He can’t place his finger on why. He’s ridden atop many women and left without saying a word.

But, he supposes this is dissimilar.

Evelyn listened to him tonight, heard him out when anyone else would have carved him into pieces without second thought. She let him drink from her, forgave him for getting…carried away. 

The most shocking part of it all is that regardless of her dismissiveness, he now undeniably knows that she’s attracted to him. Yet, she didn’t capitalize on the opportunity when it arose to take advantage of his altered state; of his needs. With that, she’s shown him more kindness in the last hour than he’s experienced in his entire undead life. 

He likely owes her for this, of course, but there are worse fates he could endure.

The elf looks over his shoulder at her and catches her watching him intently, as if she wants to continue this conversation but can’t quite figure out what she wants to say. The intensity of her gaze almost forces him to turn back towards her, drawn to her by an unfamiliar ache; a thrill in his spine, the compulsion pulling at his chest like some sort of spell.

“This is a gift, you know.” The words escape him, hanging in the air between them with raw authenticity. He means to make himself sound more frivolous, but before he can edit them in his head, more truth spills from his lips, “I won’t forget it.”

His throat tightens. He considers her for a moment, wondering what he might find if he does turn to meet her eyes.

But, Astarion resists.

She must be exhausted. He shouldn’t take up any more of her time.

He leaves before she can respond. There wasn’t anything left for them to discuss, and he’s desperate to break free from the uneasy weight of her presence.

The second he steps fully outside, he feels as though he can breathe again, not that he needs to, being undead and all. 

What a strange feeling, that was. 

One he decides he’d rather forget. Best to not burden himself too much with it.

The taste of her lingers on his teeth. He finds himself savoring it for a moment too long before stalking towards the forest, confident. Ready to hunt. 

[sikkkko]

Blurred Lines. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Chapter 03 need another drink ( 🖊️ )

where : yizhuo yn and park sunghoon were not only a couple, but the bestest of friends, an inseparable pair; both deeply in love with each other. a love as intense as their personalities. despite their deep connection, they were young and ambitious, and the pressures of life pulled them apart. the couple mutually decided to break up, hoping to carve out their futures separately. ¿what happens when they inevitably end up in the same friend group again? ¿will they fight for the once strong bond or will they continue their lives separately?

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the low hum of music thrummed through the walls, growing louder as yn made her way up the stairs to the rooftop. the invitation had originally come from Jay, who was always trying to get yn and the girls out of the house, saying they needed to live a little. not knowing the guest list or caring much about it. a drink in hand, she stepped onto the rooftop, the warm summer breeze brushing against her skin.

it was crowded. familiar faces mingled with strangers, laughter and conversations blending with the music. yn scanned the scene, spotting jay in a corner with jake and heeseung. she smiled to herself, feeling a bit more at ease as she started making her way over to them.

that was when she saw him.

sunghoon.

he stood near the edge of the rooftop, leaning against the railing with a drink in his hand, eyes focused on something distant. he looked good—too good, with his tousled hair and sharp jawline illuminated by the city lights. yn's heart clenched involuntarily at the sight of him, a flood of memories rushing back in a wave she wasn’t prepared for.

sunghoon’s gaze shifted, and for a moment, their eyes locked across the rooftop. time seemed to slow as the noise around them faded into the background. his expression was unreadable, a mask of indifference that yn knew all too well, but his eyes—his eyes betrayed him. there was something there, something raw and unspoken.

she turned quickly, breaking the connection before it could dig any deeper. but it was too late; the damage was done. yn’s pulse quickened, and she felt the familiar sting of unresolved emotions bubbling to the surface.

jay noticed her hesitation as she approached so he met her in the middle. “you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

“yeah, i’m fine,” yn lied, forcing a smile. “i don’t know, i was expecting him, but i don’t think i’m ready yet”

jay’s eyes flicked over to where sunghoon was standing, and he sighed. “yeah… i should’ve warned you. he showed up with Yunjin.”

yn nodded, trying to push down the jealousy that flared up at the mention of yunjin. of course, she was here. the two of them had been hanging out a lot lately, even before she had come back to south korea. and while yn tried to convince herself that it didn’t bother her, it clearly did.

“hey, you don’t have to stay,” jake offered, noticing the tension. “we can bail, find something else to do.”

but yn shook her head. she wasn’t going to let him ruin her night. “i’m fine,” she insisted, though the tightness in her chest said otherwise. let’s just have fun, okay?”

the group exchanged uneasy glances but nodded, letting the subject drop. they spent the next hour catching up, laughing, and pretending everything was normal. yet yn couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. every time she glanced in Sunghoon’s direction, he was already looking at her, and each time, it sent her stomach into knots.

eventually, the tension became too much. needing a break, yn excused herself and made her way to a quieter corner of the rooftop, near a few potted plants. She leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

“You look like you could use another drink.”

TAGLIST @onlyhyunjin @iren3luvv @velvetkisscs @hoonatic @mitchii @do-you-remember-summer-127

[typical-simplelove]

Don't Blame Me (J. Seresin)

Summary: Based on Taylor Swift's Don't Blame Me, it's the story of yours and Jake's relationship, over the course of three years.

Author's Note: Is my writer's block finally gone? Maybe? Hopefully, but then again, maybe it's just the effect that Hangman has on me. Here are way too many words where I basically confess my love for Hangman. I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: explicit!female reader, alcohol, mentions of nudity, heartbreak, those infamous volleyball and football scenes

Word Count: 10k (including song lyrics)

Note: We’re assuming that Jake was at Top Gun after Penny bought the bar. This is roughly based on Penny and Maverick’s relationship, and I’m assuming that Coyote and Hangman went to Top Gun together. Italics are flashbacks.

*gif made by me*

Don't blame me, love made me crazy If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right Lord, save me, my drug is my baby I'll be usin' for the rest of my life

"Dude, your watch is flashing and ringing," Coyote points out. "From the looks of it, you need to slow your heart rate down." 

Hangman wasn't listening. No, Jake's thoughts were far from the alert his smartwatch was giving. His mind was far from his friend's words. His thoughts were far from the game of pool they were playing. His mind was wandering away from the beer bottle in his hands. No, Jake was astutely aware of the woman walking out from the back kitchen of the bar. He hasn't seen her since he graduated from Top Gun, and even then, his heart rate acted the same. 

"I'll be right back," Jake states and pushes away from the group. 

It's been years since he saw her, saw you, but Jake knows that whatever feelings you both proposed not to act on were still there. Who could blame him? For months and months, you were all Jake thought about. 

He thought you moved away, but it turns out, maybe you're back, too. 

"Can I get another round, please?" he asks Penny. He's hoping to use this unneeded round of drinks to inquire about you. 

"Do you want me to get the drinks or her?" Penny asks, flipping her head toward you knowingly. 

"Whoever's available," Jake responds, a gentlemanly smile on his face. However Jake responded, he knows without a doubt that Penny would ring the bell on him, and he wasn't ready for that to be the moment you first noticed him. 

"Did you not know she was back in town?" 

Jake shakes his head. "We lost touch a few months after I graduated and she moved for work." And moved on from me, Jake thinks to himself. 

Penny smirks. "There's no time like the present to catch up."

"Yeah," Jake murmurs, giving you another glance. He can still remember it like yesterday when he first met you. Well, more like, he can remember the first time he saw you and knew he loved you. He'd deny it, but both events happened at the same time. It was love at first sight for Jake, but then life got in the way. Was it possible the universe gave you two a second chance? 

I've been breakin' hearts a long time And toyin' with them older guys Just playthings for me to use Something happened for the first time In the darkest little paradise Shaking, pacin', I just need you

It was his second day at Top Gun, and he finally made it out to the Hard Deck. It was infamous to be the place where Naval pilots hung out but were also highly respected. It also helped that each Top Gun pilot knew they could get lucky at said bar with one smile and wink. 

That was most definitely the case for Lieutenant Jake Seresin. He knew how to work a room and wasn’t worried about finding an enjoyable date for the night. 

Jake was in his element up until the point his favorite song came on on the jukebox. He saw the antique in the corner, but he wasn’t aware that anyone could use it. He made a mental note to play around with it the next time he came in. What caught Jake’s attention, though, was the woman who was walking away from the jukebox who most definitely played the song. Everything from her confidence to her smile to her hair to her eyes. Within seconds, Jake was gone. 

“I’ll be right back,” Jake says to some of his fellow pilots before sashaying over to where you were walking towards the bar. He’s about to greet you when he watches you continue walking behind the bar. You work here; it appears. 

“What can I get for you, tonight?” you ask, a gratuitous smile on your face. The smile falters a bit, though, when your eyes land on Jake. It wasn’t a reaction that Jake was used to. Normally, when Jake catches the attention of other women, he tends to arouse flustered looks, not the look you were giving. He didn’t even know how to describe it. Your customer service smile turned into a genuine smile as if you and Jake were old friends, but your eyes were wide. He couldn’t tell if you were flustered or confused by him walking up to you. 

“I was going to ask for your name, but I didn’t want to give you the wrong pretext,” Jake answers, still confused. Jake was good at talking to women. It came as easy as flying, but talking to you and trying to figure you out was starting to feel like the Olympics. “I guess another beer, please.” 

“You guess? Did you want something else?” you ask, a cocky tone in your voice. That reeled Jake in, quick. He was hooked in seconds. 

“I would like to get to know you, but I’m not sure how comfortable you are with it.” Normally, Jake would just get right into his normal routine when talking to girls, but this time, it feels a bit different. He can’t just jump right into it. He didn’t want one night with you. He didn’t want two nights with you. He wanted every night that you’d be able to give him. He wanted every night with you for the rest of his life. He wanted every morning with you for the rest of his life. He wanted every afternoon with you for the rest of his life. And, he wanted every evening with you for the rest of his life. You were the one in a million that Jake’s mother always told him to be on the lookout for because the ones in a million don’t take nonsense, and sometimes, Jake gave that nonsense. You couldn’t mess that up with you. 

“Why don’t you give me your best pitch, and we’ll see if you get my name?” you ask, a confident smile on your face. “Of course, I need to have the liberty to help the patrons in this bar, too.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to neglect any of your duties,” Jake responds, his Southern tone coming out. 

“South Carolina?” 

“Texas.” 

“Ah, I see.”

“Lieutenant Jake Seresin.” 

“Call sign?”

“Hangman.” 

“Do you like to play the namesake game?” 

“Do you like to play the game?” 

“Yes, sometimes.” 

“Then, yes, I like the game, too,” Jake replies, a cocky grin on his face. 

You smile and playfully shake your head. “You’re good. Keep going.” 

With that, Jake slowly gave his life story and how he happened to end up in this bar talking to you. When he finishes, he asks, “Was that good enough?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Was it good enough to get your name? If not, I can just call you pretty girl.” 

You chuckle under your breath, and by the way you wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead, Jake knows he’s got you flustered. Jackpot! Slowly, you tell Jake your name and stare intently into his eyes. “Don’t make me regret this.” 

Jake bites back a cocky “no girl regrets talking to me,” because that’s the nonsense his mother warned him to hold back on when it came to the ones in a million like you. “What’s your story?” 

Slowly you give your life story and conclude with, “So, when I moved here for work, my aunt Penny, the lovely lady who bought this place a few months ago, asked if I could help her out, so I agreed. Besides, I could use the extra money and tips. Speaking of.” You tilt your head to the tips jar a few feet down with a smile on your face. “Let’s see if you pass this test.” 

Jake chuckles to himself. “Oh, you’re good.” He places forty dollars in the tip jar and retakes his seat. “Pass?” 

“You’re a smart man.” 

“Well, you can thank my mother for the way I turned out.” 

“Oh, a mama’s boy. Now, sometimes, those are good, and sometimes, those are bad. Which are you?” 

“The one who knows when his mother gets appropriate credit and the one who knows when his mother should stay out of the conversation.” 

“Where does that response fit in here?” 

“My mother raised me to be a gentleman, so she can get credit for that if you believe I’m being a gentleman. If you don’t, then you can blame me for not retaining anything my mother said. But, my mother gets no credit for how attracted I am to you right now. Well, she gets the credit for telling me what to look out for when I see someone who’s one in a million.” 

“And what did you look out for?” you ask, trying to hide how warm and flustered Jake is making you. 

“To put it simply, you,” Jake responds, a grin on his face as bites the inside of his cheek. Endearing. 

“You’re good at this, Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin; I’ll give you that,” you reply, a wide grin on your face. “I work Mondays, Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. Maybe I’ll see you around. Alas, I have to get back to work, but have a great rest of your evening.” 

As Jake watches you walk away, there’s only one thing he knows for sure. You could either be his biggest heartbreak or his greatest happiness because, ultimately, Jake was already head over heels for you. 

For you, I would cross the line I would waste my time I would lose my mind They say, "She's gone too far this time"

Following that first night when you and Jake first met, he always showed up on the nights you were working. It was a constant for the next few weeks. When you wouldn’t see him, you’d have to hide the disappointment on your face from Penny. She seemed to think that there’s something going on between you and Jake, but you’re just friends. It was a flirty relationship; that’s all. 

“Jake is incapable of having any conversation with anyone without it being just a bit flirty,” you say, defending your friendship. It was two hours before opening, and you offered to come early to help Penny with the inventory. 

“I don’t think he’s ever flirted with me,” Penny contradicts, knowing there’s more to the story, at least on Jake’s end. “And, I don’t think he’s flirted this much with anyone ever.” 

“He hasn’t flirted with you out of respect for your daughter and because he doesn’t want you ringing the bell which forces him to buy the entire bar a round of drinks,” you defend. 

“Speaking of the lover,” Penny mutters which has you rolling your eyes. “Hey! He just walked in.” 

Quickly, you whip your head to the door, and you pretend your heart doesn’t flutter when you see Jake walk in. 

“Hi,” he says, nervous. “I know I’m early, but I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh, yeah?” 

He nods. “We’re doing this volleyball tournament at the beach tomorrow, and I was wondering if you wanted to go? We can grab drinks or something after.” 

You smile. “I’d like that a lot.” 

And this now leads to Jake looking for you amongst the small crowd and hiding the sinking feeling in his chest when he doesn’t see you. You were coming, right? You’d be there, right? 

Just as Jake is about to step out onto the sand court, he spots your familiar head of hair sitting among the crowd on the makeshift bleachers. He stares for a few moments before you sense his staring and turn to look at him. You send him your signature smile, and Jake’s knees wobble. Would that smile ever cease to make Jake’s entire body warm and pliant? 

Quickly, though, Jake recovers and sends you a cocky grin before walking out onto the sandy court to start the game. He’s going to win. Not because Jake always wins but because you’re here. He needs to impress you and show you he’s the best. Sure, the need to impress you and prove he’s the best might be a bit primal, but whenever he’s around you, he can’t help but revert to those primal senses and insecurities. Jake can’t mess this up with you even if he’s not sure what it is. He keeps calling it a friendship, but was it truly a friendship when he knows he’d give you the world if you asked? Was it truly a friendship if Jake would drop everything if you called? Was it truly a friendship when Jake knows he’s in love with you even though he’s only known you for a few weeks? Whatever this relationship was, it was intoxicating, and Jake can’t get enough of you. 

As the game begins and continues, Jake settles into the primal urge to show off. He’s serving and hitting harder than this friendly game ought to have. He’s digging and sliding to get the ball much more than he needs to. Sure, his reputation at Top Gun is also at stake if he loses, but it’s losing your attention that he’s worried about. He doesn’t want you to get bored because he’s losing. Once he thinks that, though, Jake immediately feels guilty because he shouldn’t think you’ll get bored of him if he’s not the best. He wants to be the best because he knows he’s the best, but he also wants to be the best to prove to you he’s worth it. He wants to prove that he’s worth the effort despite his former womanizer tendencies. Despite it being primal, he also wants to prove to you that he’s the best Top Gun pilot for you. 

Jake unapologetically wants you, and he’ll do anything he can to show you that he’s worth the hassle. 

Unsurprisingly, Hangman and Coyote win. 

When they’re named victorious, the spectators and other pilots gather around the pair to congratulate them. Jake doesn’t want to be rude (and because he likes soaking in the glory), so he takes the hugs and handshakes, but he really, really, really wants to find you. He wants to see you and to ask you how entertained you were. He didn’t want you to have hated every second you were at the game, especially considering it was your day off from both working your day job and at the Hard Deck. 

Despite looking very hard for you, he can’t find you. He’s scanning the crowd, and when it dissipates and you’re not there, his heart begins to beat wildly in fear that you found someone else who’s better than him (you were the only person that makes Jake realize that there are people better than him). 

“She’s behind you,” Coyote says, nudging Jake and giving him a wink.

“Shut up,” Jake murmurs and turns to see you. “You made it!” 

“You know I made it,” you tease. “You saw me before the tournament started.” 

Jake’s face burns. “Did you like the game?” 

“Yes, it was very,” you say but don’t finish. Jake can tell you’re searching for the right word to encapsulate what you’re trying to say.

“Very?” Jake asks, a shit-eating grin and a raised eyebrow adorning his face.

“Entertaining,” you breathe out, eyeing up Jake. He’s got you flustered. 

Oh, right, he’s not wearing a shirt, and his shorts are fairly short, giving you a perfect look at Jake’s toned chest and muscular legs. 

“Entertaining, huh?” Jake flirts. “Did you want me to turn in a circle slowly so that you can get a full picture of the entertainment?” 

“That would be great, actually, thanks.” 

Jake laughs and turns. He stops when his back is to you so that you get a look at his back. He can hear heavy breaths coming from you. Jake knows exactly what he’s doing, and if he’s lucky, so do you, and maybe he’ll finally have the guts to make a move. 

Once Jake is facing you again, he says, “Besides this amazing entertainment, did you enjoy the game?” 

“Most definitely,” you reply. “You’re pretty good.” 

“I mean, with this body, it’s kind of hard not to be good at anything athletic,” Jake responds, his Texan voice coming in deep. 

“I’d congratulate you with a hug, but I’m all sweaty.” 

Jake shakes his head, hiding how much he’d love to hug you. “I’m probably more sweaty than you are.” 

“Fair enough.” You noticed all his sweat. It most definitely didn’t accentuate all the muscles across his chest. In a quick motion, you wrap your arms around Jake and congratulate Jake on his win. Whispering in his ear, you say, “You played really well, and I’m proud of you.” 

Jake can feel the vibrations of your voice deep in his stomach, and he has to stop himself from kissing you right there. His life depended on him kissing you right then and there, but it didn’t feel like the right moment. 

“Did you want to grab a drink later?” he asks, not pulling away. 

“Are you asking if I want to grab a drink at the place where I work?” you tease, also not moving to pull away despite the sweat on Jake’s body soaking through your shirt. 

“I was going to say we can go somewhere else. I can pick you up in a few hours?”

“A few hours?” You pull back slightly and glance at his face. 

“I’d like to head back to base to shower because, as you can tell, I’m all hot and sweaty.” 

“I, um, live five minutes from here,” you begin, nervous. “You can come over and shower at my place, and I can make us dinner, or we can order something. I probably have beer in my fridge.” 

“Are you okay with that?” Jake asks, not wanting to put you out. 

“Yeah, I’m okay with that,” you answer, your hands running to his hair at the base of his neck. You tug on it slightly as you feel Jake’s hands tighten around your waist. 

“Let me grab my stuff; I’ll be right back,” Jake all but growls. Primal instincts are strong in this one. 

“Okay,” you whisper, wishing that Jake didn’t let go of you. 

Once you and Jake are back at your small beachside house, you lead him to the bathroom. 

“I only have one bathroom with a shower in it, so you’re going to see all of my products lining the bathroom,” you awkwardly explain. You mentally face plant. That was way too much information. Why did you give him all that information? 

Jake can sense your nervousness, and it makes his heart beat faster. You’re just as nervous as he is right now, and it, somehow, made the whole situation more cozy and comfortable. 

“You can go ahead and get in the shower, and I’ll grab you some towels. Feel free to use whatever products you want.” 

“Thank you,” Jake tells you and watches you walk out of your bathroom and close the door behind you. He turns on the water and waits for it to get warm. Once it’s at the temperature he wants, Jake turns on the shower head and begins to undress. You must have thought that Jake was already in the shower because just as you open the door to place the towels on the bathroom counter, you see Jake step out of his boxers. 

He’s naked. 

His back is to you, but even his naked back is stupidly attractive. 

As if sensing your presence, Jake turns his head. His face grows warm 

“Sorry,” you apologize, before rushing out of the bathroom. 

“Don’t be,” Jake yells through the bathroom before chuckling and hopping into the shower. 

Jake Seresin was going to be the death of you if you couldn’t figure out how to handle yourself around him. 

Don't blame me, love made me crazy If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right Lord, save me, my drug is my baby I'll be usin' for the rest of my life Don't blame me, love made me crazy If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right Oh, Lord, save me, my drug is my baby I'll be usin' for the rest of my life 

Being the great bartender you were, you could sense someone approaching you for a drink despite your back to them. “Just one second, please,” you say, sorting and replacing some new glasses. 

“I can wait,” the person says. “I could wait forever if you needed me to.” 

Your head whips up, and a sly smile overcomes your face. “Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin.” 

Jake smiles as you say his name and turn around. He cockily says your name before throwing you a grin. 

“What brings you back to the area?” you ask, pouring Jake a glass of beer, still knowing exactly what his order is. 

“I could say the same to you.” 

“Work,” is your response as you slide the drink to Jake. “It’s on me.” 

“I’ll take it,” Jake says, grateful. Once he takes a sip, he continues. “So, when you say work, is it the Hard Deck, or is it your other job?” 

“Other job,” you respond. “I got transferred back to the office in the area, and my dear Aunt Penny asked if I could take over my old shifts because she needed the help, so here we are. Did Top Gun call and invalidate your graduation, and are they making you redo the program?” 

“You and I both know that I’m one hell of a pilot,” Jake says, cockily. 

“That didn’t answer my question, Hangman.” 

“We’ve reverted to my callsign, now? I’m hurt.”

“You keep deflecting, so I’m going to assume you’re here to redo the Top Gun program.” 

“The opposite, actually. I’m such an amazing pilot that they’ve asked me to come to fly a super important mission.” 

“A dangerous mission, I take?” you ask, nervousness and fear lacing your voice. Your worry is a slap across the face for Jake. Were you worried for Jake, or was it just the normal amount of worry you’d exude when you heard what Jake just told you? Did he want you to be worried? If you were worried, was it a sign of something else? Was it possible that you still loved Jake? 

No, he wouldn’t let himself go there. It would undo all the work Jake’s done over the past few years to forget about you and his love for you. He couldn’t undo all that progress. 

“Yeah, you worried?” 

“Believe it or not, I actually care about you.” 

“Do you now?” Jake asks, a small smile on his face. He couldn’t help it. He was elated to hear that you still cared about him. 

“I’m offended that you think I didn’t care about you.” 

“I’m going to circle back to this point at a later date because I’m not in the mood to ruin this great reunion.” Jake didn’t want to tell you that when you rejected him on his graduation night, it broke him into pieces. Looking back, he understood why you did it, but it didn’t feel like you cared at the time. It felt like someone took his heart, slaughtered it, and didn’t bother putting the broken pieces back in his body. For the longest time, Jake was numb. His life consisted of flying and sleeping. He couldn’t allow himself to have a single ounce of time to think or else he’d throw himself into a depressive episode. 

Jake wasn’t ready to delve into all that pain right now, and from what he could tell, it looked like you went through something similar and weren’t ready to delve into it either. 

“Are you seeing anyone?” Jake asks, not sure if he wants the answer. 

“I’m looking at you right now,” you say, knowing exactly what response Jake wants. 

He snorts. “Are you romantically seeing anyone right now? Like, dating?”

“I’m not an idiot, Jake; I know what you meant.” 

Jake’s heart gallops when he hears you call him by his name. He’s dreamt of it for years, and to hear you say it again seems too good to be true. 

“Say it again,” he whispers. 

“What?” you ask, confused. 

“My name. Say it again. Please.” 

“Jake.” 

Just like that, all the wounds were healed. Everything was right in the world. You called him by his name, and suddenly, everything in the world was right. Somehow, you were back in his life, and everything made sense. Even if he never got to have the life with you that he always imagined, it was okay because you said his name again. He got to hear his name fall from your lips. 

You were still his one in a million. 

And he still loved you. And that wouldn’t ever change. That love isn’t going anywhere. 

“I’m not seeing anyone, by the way,” you tell him. 

“Neither am I, by the way,” Jake replies, slightly victorious to hear that you’re single. Maybe there was still a chance? 

“I have to get back to work, but did you want to come over for dinner sometime?” you ask. 

“Are you at the same place as before?” 

“Yes, I am.”

Jake smiles. “I’ll be there.” 

There’s nowhere else he’d rather be than right there with you. 

My name is whatever you decide And I'm just gonna call you mine I'm insane, but I'm your baby (Your baby) Echoes (Echoes) of your name inside my mind Halo hiding my obsession I once was poison ivy, but now I'm your daisy

“I brought you a lemon tart,” Jake says when you open the door to your beachside house. The same one you were living in before you moved all those years ago. 

“Hello to you, too,” you say, stifling a laugh. 

“Hi,” Jake replies, embarrassed. You lead him into your house and take the lemon tart from him as he takes off his shoes. He quickly looks around and sees that it’s exactly the way it was when he was here the first time around. He points it out to you.

“Yeah, I actually didn’t sell this place when I moved,” you explain. “I couldn’t get a buyer to buy with a good price, so I just opted to rent it out, thinking I’ll eventually sell or move back.”

“And you moved back.” 

“Yes, I did.” 

“Was that always the plan? To move back?” Jake asks as you lead him into the kitchen. 

“It wasn’t always the explicit plan, but I’ve always thought about it, yeah.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were back in the area?” Jake asks. “I’ve been in the area for a while. I’m at the same place I was after I graduated from Top Gun.” 

“Did you want me to call you, Jake?” you ask. This wasn’t how you wanted tonight to go, but you guess Jake has a lot on his chest he wants to let out. It made sense considering how the conversation went the last time you and Jake spoke. Well, the time before the previous night. You basically broke his heart. If he did to you what you did to him, you wouldn’t have wanted Jake to call you if the roles were reversed. Well, that was a lie. If the roles were reversed, you would have realized that it was for the best. You would have wanted Jake to call you because, after all, you never stopped loving him. How could ever stop loving someone as amazing to you as Jake? He always was your only one. 

“I always wanted you to call,” Jake murmurs. “You just stopped calling me one day, and you have no idea how much that broke my heart.” 

After Jake’s admission, neither of you says anything. You look away from him, knowing that if you keep looking at his heartbroken face, you’d start to cry. Instead, you opt to just continue making dinner. Jake, too, it seems doesn’t want to talk to you at this moment, but he picks a counter-stool to sit on and rests there. You can feel his eyes on you as you dice the onions. 

It’s distracting. You want to know what he’s thinking. You want to know if he hates you for what you did (this was an absurd thought because you know he could never hate you and vice versa). You wanted to know how dangerous his mission was because after reconnecting, you know you never want to lose contact with him. You wanted to know if he was going to be in this area permanently. You wanted to know that even if he wasn’t in the area permanently if he’d be open to you going with him. You never wanted to lose Jake again, but it seemed like all you ever do when it comes to possibly have a relationship with Jake was ruin it. 

“Shit,” you mutter when you feel the knife slice into the skin of one of your fingers. Jake’s eyes instantly bolt up to look at you, and his eyes bore into you as you rush to the kitchen faucet to run the cold water. In seconds, he’s up and by your side. 

“What happened?” 

“I was distracted and cut myself. I’m fine,” you say. 

“You don’t look fine,” Jake points out. “Where are your bandaids?” 

“Medicine cabinet in the bathroom,” you direct, and Jake’s sprinting to the bathroom. You can hear him rifling through your medicine cabinet; you want to tell him not to mess up your neatly organized cabinet, but you know he’d yell at you for worrying about the organization when you were basically bleeding out (he was always one for dramatics when it came to you). 

“I can’t find them,” Jake yells. 

“I’ll come to help you,” you yell back and turn off the faucet. You think you can make it to the bathroom without any blood dripping, but you’re wrong. “Actually, I’ll just stay here.” 

Within seconds, Jake’s back by your side. “Do you have a dishcloth or something?” 

“They’re all in the dryer,” you mutter and internally curse yourself for wanting everything to be clean for Jake. 

In response, Jake rips off his shirt and hands it to you, and you go dizzy. You sway for a few seconds before Jakes wraps his arm around your waist to steady you. “Careful.” 

“Then, maybe you should put your shirt back on,” you mutter. Yeah, it wasn’t the loss of blood making you act like this. It was the half-naked Jake Seresin standing in your kitchen. 

“Shut up,” he mutters, embarrassed. He takes your hand away from the faucet and turns off the water. He wraps your finger in his shirt before ushering you to the bathroom. “Now, you can help me find your bandaids.” 

“You do know I have paper towels, right?” you tease. Jake chuckles, and just like that, everything goes back to normal. You know Jake isn’t mad at you for the decisions you made, and Jake knows you regret your actions. 

“I wasn’t thinking,” Jake defends. “I just thought you needed to have something to wrap your finger in, and my shirt was the first thing I could think of you.”

“You’ll do absolutely anything to get shirtless; won’t you?”

“Actually, you’ll do anything to get me shirtless,” Jake teases. “Not that I mind.” 

You roll your eyes. “Yes, because I planned to hurt myself. That makes so much sense.” 

Jake playfully shoves you and opens the medicine cabinet. 

“Jake.” 

“What?” 

“My bandaids are right there,” you say, deadpanned. 

“Oh,” he says, softly. “Again, I wasn’t really thinking. I was worried about you.” 

“Well, now you know how it feels,” you say as Jake takes a bandaid from the box.

“What do you mean?” Jake’s eyebrows are scrunched together as he opens the bandaid and begins to wrap your finger. 

“Every time you’re in the air, I worry. Somehow, even if you don’t tell me when you’re going to fly, I know and get worried. Before, when you used to tell me about when and how you flew that day, I’d know that the sudden burst of anxiety and worry I felt at the exact same time was about you.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jake murmurs, finishing up placing the bandaid on your finger.

“Don’t apologize. It’s your job. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry if what I said and did all those years ago hurt you. I didn’t mean to, and I just thought it was what was the best.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Jake echos. “At first, I didn’t see why you did it, but eventually, I realized you did the right thing in terms of us despite how much it hurt and how hard it was to get over you.” 

“Mhm, same,” you echo, knowing 100% that you never truly got over Jake. 

“And, now we’re friends, so it all worked out.” 

You nod and don’t meet Jake’s eye. Friends. You’d pretend you didn’t love Jake. It couldn’t be that hard considering you’ve been doing it for the past three years. 

“Now,” you say, feigning cheerfulness in hopes of changing the subject. “Should I do a load of laundry so that I can wash your shirt, or do you want to walk around half-naked for the rest of the evening?” 

“Half-naked,” Jake responds, his Texan drawl coming out, and you can’t help but burst into laughter. 

You’d figure out how to be friends with Jake and co-exist with how much you loved him because you weren’t letting Jake walk out of your life again. 

And baby, for you I would (I would) fall from grace Just to (Just to) touch your face If you (If you) walk away, I'd beg you on my knees to stay

“Congratulations on graduating, Lieutenant,” you say, a soft smile on your face. Turning around, Jake slowly breathes out your name. “You have no idea how proud I am of you.” 

“Thank you,” he whispers, a shy smile on his face. “Hey, um, I want to talk to you later tonight about something.” 

“Oh, yeah?” 

He nods, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He’s nervous. He’s never been nervous before. 

“Okay,” you tell him before pushing him towards his family. “Now, go celebrate, graduate.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he responds, his Texas features coming out. You can’t help the giddy smile that overcomes your face when he says that two-worded response. 

Later that night, the Top Gun graduates and their families and friends are piled into the Hard Deck, celebrating. You’re talking to someone’s fiance as they tell you about how very soon the pilots would be getting their assignments and would be dispersing across the country. 

“Do you plan on moving with your Navy partner?” she asks. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Will you be staying where you live or will you be with going with them? If you guys get married before they’re due to base, then you can live off base with them.” 

“I think you miss understood. I’m not with anyone here. I’m celebrating my friend’s graduation.” 

“Which pilot?” she asks, eyes crinkling with confusion. 

“Jake. Hangman.” 

“That’s what I thought! Are you sure you’re not dating?” 

“I think I’d know if I were dating someone.” 

“True, but think about the benefits—” she’s interrupted by someone wrapping their arms around your waist. 

“Is this a bad time?” Jake asks. You can hear his cocky grin as his mouth is low on your ear as he talks. 

“Not at all,” she responds, smiling and giving you a curt goodbye. 

In one swift movement, Jake turns you in his embrace and pulls you flush against his body. Your hands go to his chest, instinctively. His hands rest on your waist, and you feel his fingers comfortably rest against the curves of your waist. 

He leans his head down and whispers in your ear, “can we go outside and talk, now?” 

“Yeah.” 

Jake places his hand in yours before pulling you out towards the beach. When you’re both far from the loud atmosphere of the bar, you and Jake stop walking, but he makes no moves to take his hand out of yours. 

“So, I got my assignment, and I’m going to be staying pretty close by,” Jake tells you. “About a few hours drive.” 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jake responds, nervously. “Because of that, I was hoping, before I leave, I could take you on a date. Maybe we could test the waters? I’ve been crazy in lo—”

“I’m moving to Chicago,” you blurt out. 

“What?” 

“At work, I got transferred, and the opportunity is just too good to pass up; I leave in a month.” 

“I leave around the same time, so maybe we could—” Jake persists, but you shake your head. 

“No, Jake, we can’t.” 

“But, I lo—”

Your eyes begin to water. “Please don’t finish that sentence. It doesn’t matter how strongly we feel for each other; it’s not going to work. We’re going to be on opposite ends of the country, and who knows if this position for you is permanent. I can’t do that to our friendship.” 

“But, you can do this to our friendship? You can tear us apart and not let us try?” 

“I’m sorry, Jake. It’s what’s best for the both of us.”

“No, you’re doing this because it’s easy. Don’t tell me you actually want to do this.” 

“Good luck with this new assignment, and remember, I’m always proud of you. I’ll see you around, Jake,” you say, tearfully and walk away. In terms of logistics, it wouldn’t ever work. You couldn’t start something with Jake that you couldn’t ever finish. You wanted everything with Jake. You wanted the rest of your life with Jake, but in this situation, it just wouldn’t ever work. 

It only sucked that you had to break both your and Jake’s hearts in order to come to this conclusion.

Don't blame me, love made me crazy If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right Lord, save me, my drug is my baby I'll be usin' for the rest of my life (Yeah, ooh) Don't blame me, love made me crazy If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right (Doin' it right) Oh, Lord, save me, my drug is my baby I'll be usin' for the rest of my life

“You’re here pretty early, Lieutenant Seresin,” Penny says when she sees the pilot walk in. 

“Yeah, um, is—?”

“She’s in the back,” Penny answers, knowing exactly the reason why Jake was here. 

“Thanks, Penny,” Jake responds and walks to where Penny said you were. 

“Why, hello there,” you tease when you watch Jake walk in. 

“Penny said I could find you in here,” he responds, his usual smile overcoming his face. 

“So you’ve found me. What can I do for you?”

“Maverick wants us to do a football game thing tomorrow, and it’s going to be on the beach outside the bar, and I was wondering if you were going to be there?” 

“Do you want me there?” 

“I’d love for you to be there,” Jake responds, a teasing smile on his face. 

“Then I’ll be there,” you respond. 

This is how you found yourself sitting at one of the picnic tables outside of the Hard Deck with your computer open. The game happened to be while you were at your day job, so you opted to work remotely instead of going into the office. 

It was all silly, watching them play, but you understood the motive behind the game and why Maverick asked them to do it. 

As hard as you tried to watch all of the pilots, it was hard when Jake wasn’t wearing a shirt and his pants hung very low on his waist. The sun and sweat glistening on his body weren’t helping. Eventually, you closed your laptop, put on your sunglasses, and walked down to where the pilots were playing and sat on the sand and watched. Penny, at some point, joined you, too, but she seemed to be watching all the pilots whereas your eyes were completely on Jake. 

Just like volleyball game all those years ago, he excelled at this variation of football. It made me wonder what other athletic strengths Jake had. 

Once the game was over and everyone was chatting and drinking water, you and Penny made your way up to the picnic table. You haven’t had the chance to speak to Jake yet, but knowing him, he’ll find his way up to where you were. 

As if knowing you were thinking about him, Jake runs up to you. “Hey.”

“Hey, back,” you reply, a wide smile overcoming your face when you see Jake. 

“Did you have fun?” he asks.

“Eh, it was okay,” you say, feigning boredom. 

“Is that so?” Jake asks, a cocky smile covering his face as he thought about his next actions. 

“For pilots, I guess you guys were okay,” you say, committing to the charade. 

“Oh, you’re so full of shit,” Jake says and picks you up. 

“Jake Seresin, put me down right now!”

“I don’t think so,” Jake says as he begins to saunter down to the water as if he weren’t carrying another human being. 

“Jake,” you warn.

“Yes, sweetheart? Is there something I can do for you?”

“Yeah, put me down, babe.” 

“Not happening,” Jake says and throws you into the water. 

When you come up to the surface and catch your breath, you grab Jake’s arms and pull him into the water next to you. For the next few minutes, you and Jake are splashing around in the water. You can’t help the laughter and smiles that overcome your face. It was so easy being around and with Jake. It made you realize just how easy it could be to have him like this all the time. You could so easily tell Jake just how much you love him. It could just slip right out, and everything would just fall into place, you know it. 

“Okay, okay, I surrender,” Jake says when his stomach hurts from all the laughter and his pants are fully soaked. 

“I accept your surrender,” you say and take a step towards Jake. You’re about to push him into the water when Jake grabs both of your hands and holds them up in mid-air.

“Don’t you dare think about it,” Jake warns, a twinkling overcoming his green eyes. 

“I wasn’t!” you lie. 

“Mhm, I know you better than that.” Jake takes your hands that are still in his and rests your hands around his neck before he places his hands on your waist and pulls you against him. “I think I like this better.” 

“Me too,” you whisper, suddenly losing all ability to speak. Jake just has that effect on you.

You’re staring deep into his eyes, and it seems like he’s wrestling with something. What could he be thinking so intently about? Did he want to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss him? It would be so easy to just lean your head up and close the space and kiss him. It would be so easy to finally get your lips on his; all it took was just moving your mouth a few centimeters—that’s how close you were to him. 

You move your hand to brush the hair on Jake’s forehead to the side, and on instinct, your head moves closer to him. He was so close to you right now. It’s the closest you’ve ever been to Jake. You’re breathing in sync, and your eyes haven’t left each other. He’s right there, and if you nudge your head just a small centimeter closer, you could kiss him. 

You’re about to kiss Jake when someone interrupts you two, causing you and Jake to pull your heads back from each other and break the intense eye contact. 

“Hey, love birds, we’re heading back to base,” Rooster yells. 

“Fucking, Rooster,” you hear Jake mutter to himself before Jake yells, “We’ve got plans, but I’ll see you back at base later.” Jake turns his head back to you, praying that you both could get back to where you were just seconds ago. 

“Did you just invite yourself to my house?” 

“Your water pressure is better than the Navy’s,” Jake begins, a grin on his face. “Your towels are softer, and your soap smells so much better. Your house is so much nicer than the Navy barracks.” 

“So you’re friends with me for my household amenities?” 

“I guess the homeowner is pretty neat, too,” Jake says, sincere and full of love. “Even when she’s walking in on me while I’m naked.”

“That was one time!”

“If you want to see me naked so badly, you can just let me know, and we can find a time and place that work for the both of us,” Jake flirts, joking but also slightly serious. 

“Oh, shut up, playboy,” you say and lead Jake towards your car. 

Jake wouldn’t admit it, but he’d do anything to hold you and have you as close to him as he did just moments ago. 

I get so high, oh Every time you're, every time you're lovin' me You're lovin' me Trip of my life, oh Every time you're, every time you're touchin' me You're touchin' me Every time you're, every time you're lovin' me

“Are we all up for the Hard Deck, tonight?” Phoenix asks the group of pilots. 

A chorus of yeses and cheers erupt from the room, Hangman’s being one of them. 

“I’m surprised you want to go, Hangman, considering your girlfriend isn’t going to be working tonight,” Fanboy teases. 

“It’s Thursday,” Hangman says. “She always works Thursdays, and she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh, that’s right, you’re fiance,” Phoenix corrects and elicits a round of laughter. 

“She’s not working tonight,” Bob informs Hangman. “She told me it’s her job’s half-year, so she’s caught at the office trying to meet all her quotas and everything. She’s probably not working at the bar for the rest of the week.” 

“Oh,” Jake says, pretending to sound indifferent. How come you told Bob your plans and not him? How come he didn’t know? 

“Dude, you need to wife her up, like, now,” Rooster teases. 

“We’re just friends,” Hangman growls. He never liked being the butt of the jokes, especially when it came to how much he loves you. 

“Yeah, friends who’re in love with each other,” Phoenix adds on. “Dude, there’s literally no way in hell you two are ‘just friends.’ There’s definitely something else there between you two.”

“What?” Hangman asks, confused. As far as he was concerned, the love was one-sided, and you didn’t feel the same for him. 

“Oh, yeah, she’s madly in love with you, too.” 

“Mm, I don’t know.” 

“Mm, we definitely know,” Rooster says. “Tell her you love her and then go to the chapel and get married. It’s obvious that’s what you want to do.”

Sure, that’s what Hangman wants to do, but he knows that you wouldn’t want a chapel wedding. You’d want something bigger and have all your family there. When Rooster mentions chapel and marriage, Hangman’s mind immediately goes to what it would be like to watch you walk down the aisle in a wedding dress. That right there sounds like what dreams are made of.

He always knew he wanted to be with you forever, but he never thought about marrying you. It was just you and Hangman would be together. It would be like two puzzle pieces fitting together and never separating, but now that the idea of marrying was there, Jake wanted it all. He wanted to “court you” and propose to you with the ring of your dreams, and he wanted to plan the wedding of your guys’ dreams, and he wanted to write vows about how much he loved you, and he wanted to have that first dance at the reception with you, and he wanted to do that thing where the couple smashes cake on each other, and he wanted to have the honeymoon with you. He wanted to buy a bigger beachside house with you and make memories in it together. 

Jake wanted every single thing with you that it made his heart burst. 

What would happen if he never got any of that with you? 

Oh, Lord, save me, my drug is my baby I'll be usin' for the rest of my life (Usin' for the rest of my life, oh-woah-oh-oh)

“Put the blanket down over here,” you tell Jake. “I’m going to go inside and convince Penny to let me steal some beers.” 

“Don’t get her mad at me, though,” Jake asks, a smile on his face. “I don’t need Penny not letting me get any more drinks. We like the Hard Deck over at the Navy.”

“I wouldn’t worry.” You pat Jake’s shoulder, teasingly. “I’ll tell Penny to open a tab for you.” 

“Oh, come on!”  

“Relax, babe,” you tease. “Penny loves me, and you’re one of my greatest friends, so I’m sure you’ll always be in her good graces as long as you’re in my good graces.”

Jake’s going to dive into the “babe” pet name in a bit, but for now, he’s going to let his heart grow at your words. “Do you want to shake on it or something?” 

You kiss his cheek, gently. “I’ll be back in a few, so put out the beach blanket.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Jake answers, his signature Texas drawl coming out. You’d be lying if you said his Southern accent didn’t instill butterflies in your stomach. In fact, the truth is, those butterflies are just as strong as they were on day one. 

Playfully, you shake your head and walk towards the bar. When Penny watches you walk away from Jake with a wide smile on your face, she knows she’s going to have to interrogate you about it. 

“So, you and Jake are getting pretty serious,” she teases. 

“What?” you ask, confusion raking your body. You were still trying to get over the effects of having your lips on Jake’s cheek. Whenever you were around Jake, the haze he’d put over you was incomprehensible. Who gave this man the right for you to lose your sanity with just one smirk or two words? Right, your heart gave Jake the right to make you giddy. 

“You guys spend almost every single free second together,” Penny points out. “When you’re taking up shifts here, Jake takes up shop wherever you plan to work that night. If I give you the night off, then you’re either seated next to him, between his legs, or on his lap. He never takes his eyes off of you. Have you two rekindled what you had before you left for Chicago for work?” 

Your smile fades. You’ve still felt guilty about not trying a relationship with him. If these past few months have taught you anything, then it’s that you and Jake could have been so happy together. You and Jake could have so easily built a beautiful life together. You could have loved Jake and told him you loved him all this time instead of imagining what it would be like. 

“I don’t know,” you say, voice fading. “We’re just friends.” 

“Sure.” 

“All those years ago, I told Jake that we couldn’t be together.”

“But?” Penny asks, wanting to pull all the information out of you. 

“I love him,” you admit, forlornly. It’s a few moments before you say anything. “I thought I stopped and that I got over him, but seeing him at the bar a few months ago made me realize just how much I missed his stupid smirk, his stupid voice, his stupid, loving eyes, his warm hugs, his stupidly handsome face—”

“You missed him.” 

“And, I love him. I never stopped, and I don’t know what to do.”

“I think you should tell him.” 

You snort. “How about this? You tell Maverick you love him, and I’ll tell Jake I love him.” 

“So, four beers?” Penny sidetracks, a smile wide on her face. 

“Take it out of my paycheck, please,” you respond when Penny gives you the beers. 

Holding the beer, you walk back out to the beach where Jake is sitting on the blanket. 

“Does she hate me?” he asks as you sit. 

“With a pretty face like yours, no one could ever hate you,” you tease. 

“So you think I’m pretty?” Jake smirks. 

“Oh, shut up. You know you’re pretty.” 

Jake bursts out into laughter. He lifts his arm up, so you sit in the crook of his body where his shoulder and arm meet. He holds you close to him as you let yourself soak in his warmth. You’d never get tired of this. 

For the next few hours, you and Jake sit like that, drinking and eating and hanging out. At some point, though, you and Jake ended up laying down on the blanket. Your head was resting on his chest as Jake’s arm was wrapped around your mid-abdomen and making small patterns with his hand. 

“Well, anyway, yeah, when I was bored during spring break in middle school, I stared out the window for hours looking for woodchucks,” you explained, and Jake burst into laughter. “I even kept a log.” 

“You’re so cute; I can’t with you,” Jake says amidst more laughter. 

“Don’t laugh. I shared this in confidence; you’re not supposed to be laughing.” 

“Okay, I’ll stop,” Jake says, eyes still crinkling in laughter. He tries, but within seconds, he’s laughing again. “You’re adorable, just remember that.” 

Eventually, after your mortification dies down and Jake stops laughing, silence overtakes you and Jake. Your eyes are growing heavy, and as you listen to Jake’s heartbeat, you know you could easily fall asleep in Jake’s arms. You feel so safe in his arms that you know that as long as you’re in his arms, you’ll have the best sleep of your life. It’s so comfortable in his arms that you let your eyes close. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Jake murmurs. “If anything, it only makes me love you more, if possible.” 

Your eyes shoot open. “What?”

“You’re awake?” Jake asks, fear in his eyes. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” 

“Jake—” 

Quickly, he stands up, brushes off the sand on his clothes, and says, “I’m going to go.”

“No, Jake, wait!” 

He shakes his head. “I can’t take you breaking my heart again, so just spare me, please.”

With that, he walks away and back towards his car. 

“I love you, too,” you murmur, tears prickling your eyes. Maybe you should have taken Penny’s advice and told Jake you loved him. That way, maybe your heart wouldn’t be breaking and shattering into pieces.  

Don't blame me, love made me crazy If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right (Doin' it right, no) Lord, save me, my drug is my baby I'll be usin' for the rest of my life, oh-oh Don't blame me, love made me crazy (Oh-oh-oh) If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right (You ain't doin' it right) Oh, Lord, save me, my drug is my baby I'll be usin' for the rest of my life (I'll be usin', I'll be usin')

“Do you know if Jake’s coming tonight?” you ask Coyote when he comes up to you to grab a round of drinks. 

“No,” Coyote replies, wishing he wasn’t the go-between between you and Jake.

“May I ask why not?” 

“Because you’re working,” Coyote replies, bluntly. “Look, I don’t want to get in the middle of you two. I’m not sure what happened between you two, but if it’s anything like last time, then Jake’s absolutely devastated.”

“Yeah, and I’m not?” you say, incredulous. How dare he avoid the bar where you worked just because you were there? Then again, you’d probably have done the same thing if you were in his footsteps. 

“I didn’t know you could break your own heart.” 

“Okay, I’ll admit that the first time around, I ruined things, but this time, it’s on Jake.”

“What happened? Hangman won’t tell me anything.”

“He told me he loved me when he thought I was asleep,” you begin. “And when I was about to tell him I loved him, too, he walked away, thinking I was going to reject him.” 

“I’m going to tell him that you’re not working tonight to try to get him to come out,” Coyote proposes. “Maybe you can finally admit it to him.”

“You’re the best, thank you! This round is on me, okay? Thank you!” 

Coyote nods and takes the drinks back to his table before texting Jake. Within the half-hour, Jake’s at the Hard Deck and making his way towards his friends. When Coyote told you that Jake said he was going to come to the bar, you decided to hide away in the back so that he wouldn’t see you and leave immediately. Coyote gives you the go-ahead to come out and confront Jake. Nervously, you walk out from the back and over to where Jake and his friends were playing a game of pool. 

“Can we talk?” you ask when you’re standing behind Jake. He freezes in place when he hears your voice. 

“I thought you weren’t working tonight,” Jake spits out when he finally looks at you. The anger and pain directed at you make you falter. He deserves to be angry, but you’re only trying to fix what happened. 

“Please, Jake,” you plead. 

“I’m not in the mood for you to ruin my life again.” 

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” you mutter and grab Jake’s wrist and pull him towards the back door to the beach. You keep pulling him until you’re quite away from the bar. “What the actual fuck is your problem?” 

“What’s my problem? I’m not in the mood for you to tell me you don’t love me again!” 

“Again? When did I tell you I didn’t love you because as far as I can tell, I loved you from the moment I first met you!”

Jake takes a step back. “What?” 

“I love you, you idiot, and I never stopped loving you,” you admit, your voice low. 

“But what about three years ago? What was that?” 

“You were right. I was taking the easy way out because I didn’t think the long distance was going to work, and I’m sorry for that. If these past few months taught me anything, then it’s that I’m a complete idiot, and we could have been so happy if I let you tell me how you felt all those years ago.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you love a few nights ago?” 

“Because you basically ran away from me!” 

“Fair enough,” Jake admits. He takes a step closer to you. “So, if I love you, and you love me, does this mean I finally get to kiss you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper and close the space between you and Jake. You wrap your arms around him and pull him towards you. Your lips crash onto each other’s as you both finally show the other how much you mean to each other. His hands roam the expanse of your body as you tug on his hair and move closer and closer to him. 

Jake can’t get enough of you, and you can’t get enough of him. It’s going to take a comet falling from the sky to separate the two of you because, finally, after years of being absolutely in love with each other and many obstacles later, you and Jake finally figured it out. 

Thankfully, though, you and Jake have forever to figure it all out because Lord knows neither of you is ever letting the other go. 

I get so high, oh Every time you're, every time you're lovin' me You're lovin' me Oh, Lord, save me, my drug is my baby I'll be usin' for the rest of my life

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 || helmut zemo, bucky barnes and sam wilson x reader

(this is a sequel to 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭-𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞, I recommend reading that first although it’s not 100% necessary... it would make this make a lot more sense though)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : it was just a matter of time before he upped the ante, all four of you knew that, but taking you all on a vacation specifically for this was a bit over-the-top.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 7.9k (hoo boy)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧��𝐬 : smut (foursome/group sex + a scene that’s just zemo/reader, cockwarming, d/s dynamics, brief oral f receiving, a touch of dubcon/cnc but it’s very subtle and the reader is 100% consenting), established zemo x reader, sugar daddy relationship, ‘sir’ kink (with zemo), ‘daddy’ kink (with sam), orgasm control/denial, overstimulation, creampie, praise with light degradation, possessiveness (but also sharing, lol), exhibitionism/voyeurism, choking, brief anal mention, once again technically cuckolding but not in the typical sense, slight corruption kink?, too many robes, latin sokovian (or as I like to call it, serbukromanian), also assume that whenever the reader and zemo are alone they are speaking sokovian even though I write the convos in english for the sake of simplicity

thank you for being my beta @nsfwsebbie​ !!

                   When your Baron told you he wanted to take you on a vacation, you immediately assumed it would be to the mountains or some European city full of history and culture.  Instead, you were a bit surprised to hear he was interested in a beach resort, a private villa he had purchased in French Polynesia.

And then you found out he wanted to bring Sam and Bucky along too… and you were simultaneously more and less surprised.  More, because who brings tentative coworkers one barely gets along with on a romantic vacation?  Less, because of course he would do this.  Of course he had plans to dress you up in the tiniest bikinis he could find and show you off to the men who had already become pawns in his perverted game of social chess.

Not that you minded; you were the Queen of the board and it didn’t bother you if it was what the King wanted.

~

You spent the first night in the villa alone with him, which you appreciated.  It had been a while since you two had some real quality time together, and you were craving him more than ever, in every way.

After a beautiful day spent swimming in the crystal blue ocean and enjoying the sights your new temporary home had to offer, you took a shower and tried not to get too excited about how you might be spending the evening with him.  But, of course, you were only a few minutes into washing the saltwater off your body when you began to imagine his tongue on you, god that man could use his tongue to destroy you any way he wanted: with his words, with his kisses, or perhaps best of all with it tasting every inch of your cunt.  It was amazing how he could get on his knees for you and still have all the power.  He liked to make you keep eye contact with him while he did it, make you beg him to let you come, whatever it took to remind you that you were thoroughly and properly owned.

And you loved every second of it, you loved being helpless to him.  He made you feel so safe that being vulnerable with him by now felt like no risk at all.  You could remember early on when your fears and insecurities made you more hesitant to submit to him, and it was only with gentle patience that he coaxed you into it, never pressure or anger.  You weren’t a virgin when you met him but, sometimes it felt like you might as well have been since you were so inexperienced and undersexed then.  In fact, he was the first man, the first person other than yourself to make you come… and he made you come more ways than you had known possible.

Okay, so maybe the plan to not get your hopes up wasn’t going so well… you were already struggling to keep your hands from between your legs. Frankly, you would’ve already done it if you didn’t know that touching yourself was against the rules.

You’d gotten so used to taking care of yourself while he was in prison, at which point he obviously suspended that rule, and it was a hard habit to break at times.

You emerged from the bathroom in the fluffy robe you found on the door, smiling when you saw him lounging on the bed in a matching one, reading Анна Каренина (known by the West as Anna Karenina).  He looked contemplative, as always, and you always thought he looked especially sexy in his reading glasses.  You slipped into the bed beside him, resting your head on his chest as he found a position where he could read comfortably with his arm around your shoulders.

“You must’ve already read that book a thousand times, Helmut,” you sighed.

“And it gets better every time,” he mumbled back, turning the page.

You pouted slightly, nuzzling into his shoulder, and he chuckled.  “Is my little lutka in need of some attention?”

You nodded, and he kissed the top of your head softly.  

“Why don’t you keep me warm while I finish this chapter, hm?” he offered, and you involuntarily clenched your thighs together at his words.  He phrased it like a question, but it felt more like a gentle demand, and you were happy to agree either way.

“Yes, sir,” you hummed as you sat up and straddled his legs, undoing your robe and opening his to wrap your hand around his half-hard cock.

He reached his full potential with only a few slow strokes, and you found yourself absent-mindedly licking your lips as you saw the way your fingers just barely met with your thumb and imagined how your body would be pushed to its limits to take him.  Good thing you were already dripping wet even though you’d just been in the shower.

You indulged in rubbing your pussy over his shaft for a moment, enough to coat him in your wetness, before you lined up his tip to your entrance and sunk down onto him with a sigh, feeling like you could never tire of being stretched open by his thick cock.  

When your hips met his, and the tip of his cock brushed against the deepest parts of you, you had to bite your lip to suppress a whimper.  After so long apart, you were still readjusting to taking him and being on top didn’t make it much easier.

Honestly, you really weren’t trying to move; you just found your hips rocking slightly, seemingly of their own accord.  You moaned under your breath as your clit rubbed against his body, but you were pulled from your trance with a whine as he slapped your thigh.

“No moving, draga, I think I made myself clear,” he reminded you sternly.

“Yes, sir,” you breathed.

You were pretty sure that at some point, you were a patient person. But you couldn’t imagine that now, not when all you could think about was how amazing it would be to just ride him right there, memories running through your mind and making your inner walls ripple unintentionally.  He either couldn’t feel it or didn’t care, stoically continuing to read even as you were struggling to stay still.

Your plan was to be good for a while and then hope that you could convince him later… but you know what they say about best-laid plans, so you ended up cutting straight to the convincing pretty fast.

“Can I move yet, sir?”

“It’s hardly been a minute,” he frowned.

“Please,” you sighed, just barely moving your hips without even meaning to.

“Not yet,” he asserted, sounding a bit annoyed, but you needed this more than anything.

"Please let me move, please; I just wanna ride you so bad,” you begged.

He sighed, clearly irritated, and just when you thought you’d made a grave error, he finally put his book aside and looked up at you with a grin.  "If I had known you would be so whiny, I would have had you keep me warm with your mouth.”

You opened your mouth to respond but let out only whimpery moans when he ran his hands up your body, toying briefly with your nipples before wrapping a hand around your neck and pulling you down into a rough kiss.  Moaning into it, you couldn’t hold back any longer and started to rock your body atop his, savoring that perfect drag of his length along your walls that you’d missed so much.

Before you got a chance to really set your pace, he grabbed you tight and rolled the both of you over, pinning you under his weight as he fucked you in that way that was somehow rough and slow at the same time, moving his kiss to your neck and holding you down by your wrists.

“Fuck, th-thank you, sir,” you sighed, your cheeks warming when he chuckled against your skin.

“You really are too sweet, draga,” he whispered.

Your arms wrapped around his neck while your legs did the same to his hips, keeping him deep inside you while his lips and tongue teased your collarbones, his fingers interlacing with yours.

He spent the entire night somewhere between making love to you and fucking you within an inch of your life, making you come more times than you could count, only taking breaks from fucking you to eat you out like a starving man (and one time for a quick drink sometime around 3 a.m.).  It was no wonder, then, that you passed out just a few moments after he finally came inside you, sleeping soundly in his arms until well into the morning, nearly noon in fact, when the sun was streaming in through the massive window.

After a relaxed breakfast of champagne and fruit (the native pamplemousse was unlike anything you’d ever eaten before), Helmut encouraged you to shower again and meet him at the pool, which was a bit surprising since he normally liked to have you keep his come in you as long as possible.  “Our guests should be here this afternoon,” was his only explanation, and you had a few ideas about what that meant, all of which made your gut sink in an oddly pleasurable way as you were filled with anticipation.

“Wear that bathing suit I bought for you, the new one,” he added finally as he stepped out onto the back patio.

~

It might seem silly to have a pool on a property right by the beach, but on days like today, where the ocean water was just a bit too chilly, you were thankful to have the heated pool to take a dip in.  Honestly, you were a little surprised that Helmut didn’t make you swim in the ocean to see your nipples get hard through the tight black bikini, but then again, they were already getting there just from sharing a pool chair with him.

He was lying against the cushioned chair; your body sat between his spread legs as the back of your head rested on his chest.  And, this is entirely unrelated, but you really liked how he looked in the round sunglasses he had on.

You hummed contentedly as you reached up behind you to touch him, rubbing his shoulders and pecs.  You wiggled a bit, slowly, and imagined how it would feel if he got hard right against the small of your back.

"Mm, what's gotten into you, lutka?" he purred, rubbing your arms.

You rolled your eyes playfully.  "You know the effect you have on me, don't act surprised."

Just before anything exciting could happen, Sam and James entered through the fence, apparently already having changed into their swimsuits; you wished you had thought to wear sunglasses so they couldn’t catch you ogling their muscular bodies, but instead, you just tried to keep your cool as you waved hello.

“Welcome!” Helmut called out, both of you getting up to greet them properly.  “I hope your flight was alright…?”

“Yeah, it was great,” Sam nodded, “thanks.”

“You really own this whole place?” James added, glancing around.

“Yes, would you like to have a swim?  I hear it should be warm enough tomorrow for the ocean, but until then…” Helmut trailed off.

Sam went right ahead, diving in and smiling wide when he popped back up.  That man had such an infectious smile, you thought he should charge people to see it or something because you felt spoiled seeing it for free.

James jumped in behind him but seemed a little surprised when he returned to the surface to see you back in your chair with Helmut.  “Care to join us?” he asked you.

“Um, no, I already swam a bit this morning,” you remembered, suddenly shy, “I think I’ll stay by the pool a while longer.”

“Aw, I was looking forward to getting to know you better,” he pouted, and everyone else raised an eyebrow at that statement.  “Um, verbally, I mean,” he added, cheeks flushing slightly.

“What would you want to know?” you asked, sighing as you relaxed against Helmut’s chest.

“Well, what’s your story?” he shrugged, swimming up the edge of the pool to hang his arms over the edge.

“I… suppose it’s a rather short story,” you realized, “I was born in Sokovia, but my parents were immigrants.  I was a bit of an ugly duckling as a child, I think.”

“You look like quite the swan now,” James winked, and you hoped Helmut wouldn’t notice how much that affected you.  

“Oh, thank you,” you mumbled.

“Which reminds me, that’s a cute bikini you have on,” he complimented.

“Do you like it?” you hummed coyly.  “Helmut picked it out.”

“Why don’t you give them a better look, darling?” Helmut prompted, and Sam swam up to hang over the edge too as you stood up and fought the urge to cover yourself with your arms.  The Baron motioned his finger in a circle, silently instructing you to twirl so they could see the back, and you did though you felt a bit self-conscious about it.  Finally, once you were sure they’d had an eyeful, he let you sit back down in his lap.

“Cute, isn’t it?” he cooed as his fingers travelled slowly up your sides.  “It’s Chanel.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Sam dismissed, unlatching himself from the edge of the pool and falling into a backstroke.  “This is weird.  I just wanna swim.”

“You didn’t think this was seriously a free vacation, no strings attached, did you?” James shot back, getting up out of the pool and shaking some of the water off of himself before sitting down in the chair beside you two and letting his eyes wander over you.  “So, Chanel, huh?” he prompted, and you nodded.

“Helmut says I should only wear the nicest things,” you explained, sitting up slightly.

“Why does it matter?  You’d look beautiful in anything,” James cooed, and you felt a little dirty for how much you liked his attention.  Good thing you liked feeling dirty.

“And a rare wagyu steak would taste just as good served any way, but you wouldn’t put it on a paper plate, now would you?” Helmut countered.  “Well, maybe you would…”

James rolled his eyes but brushed off Helmut’s insult, returning his attention to you.  “I guess I’m just… hungry enough that it doesn’t make much of a difference.”

You reached up to trace your fingertip over the silver chain dangling off of his neck, biting your lip as you hooked your finger around it and pulled him closer.  “Are you hungry enough that you don’t mind that it’s another man’s meal?”

His blue eyes went wide for a moment before glancing down to your lips and back up to your unwavering gaze, your brow raised as if a challenge while his furrowed as if he were considering accepting it.

“If he’s willing to share…” James whispered back.

“Then kiss me,” you requested softly, pulling him closer by his dog tags one more time until your lips met.

The way James kissed you was… difficult to describe.  Gentle, but with this edge of intensity— like he was restraining himself, like there was so much more passion teeming beneath the surface.  You wanted to bring that out if you could; you wanted to see how far you could push him until he lost it.

As James carefully ventured his tongue into your mouth, only to pull back and nip your bottom lip with his teeth, Helmut kissed you too— on the back of your neck, that spot that always made you wet and desperate right away.  You moaned, and you couldn’t be sure exactly who it was for, but James sure decided to respond to it either way, tilting his head more to let his kiss explore you deeper.

Helmut’s teeth dug into your shoulder right as James nipped at your bottom lip like they had somehow explicitly coordinated to make you desperate; your right hand reached up to weave into James’ hair, your left squeezing Helmut’s wrist at your side.

The kiss ended just a moment too soon, and there was a delay before you blinked your eyes open to look back at James, who seemed quite proud of himself.

“Touch me,” you pleaded in a whimper.

“Where?” he asked, somewhat innocently.

“Y-you know where…” you mumbled.  

He grinned wide, all trance of innocence gone.  “I know, but I want you to say it.”

“My cunt,” you whispered, and he snarled just a bit at the word.  “Please?”

“Of course, which one do you want?” James prompted with a grin, showing you his hands as your eyes instantly gravitated to the metal one.

“I think you know which I’m going to choose,” you mumbled shyly, and he smirked as he reached forward with the vibranium arm to brush his fingertips over your stomach, moving down to the top hemline of your bikini bottom.

You just barely gasped when the metal digits swiped over your clit and began to rub gentle circles, almost too slow as if he wanted to tease you… which, of course, he did.

"Do you like the way he touches you, draga?" Helmut whispered.  His voice in your ear was like honey on your tongue, like honey everywhere.

"Yes, sir," you nodded, looking down at James' hand buried into your bikini.

"Hey, tell me you like it, too," James protested, "I'm the one doing it after all."

"I like it, James," you repeated, looking up at him.  "I… don't have a title for you.  Should I call you something when you touch me like this?"

"You can just call me Bucky from now on, okay?  I think we're well past close enough now for that."

"Okay, Bucky," you sighed, watching the way his jaw clenched when you called him by name, "please put your fingers inside me."

"Both?"

"Yes, please," you breathed.

"But my fingers are thick, they're hard metal, and you're so small and delicate…"

"I want them to stretch me out, just please—"

A loud moan of shock jumped out of your mouth when he pushed the fingers in all at once, and though it reawakened some of the soreness from when Helmut had fucked you the night before, it felt wonderful enough to make your back arch up from the strong body behind you, his erection now digging into your hip.

It was certainly loud enough to get Sam's attention, who suddenly appeared beside the chair while he towelled off his chiselled chest.

"Damn, what are y'all doing to her over here?" he wondered aloud as if he were concerned for your health.

"Just playing with Zemo's little doll," Bucky answered.  "She's really fucking tight, can barely fit two fingers."

"Wait, move over, let me see," Sam insisted, making Bucky pull his fingers out and Helmut holding you more firmly as Sam slipped his hand into your bikini as well, poking his fingers at your entrance before pushing them in.

His fingers were even thicker and longer than Bucky's, just by a slight margin yet enough to make you mewl and arch your back as your eyes fluttered shut.

"Fuck, yeah, you were right," Sam breathed, and you felt more hands running over your body but you couldn't even tell anymore whose they were; you knew one that reached to pull up your bikini top and expose your breasts was Helmut's, because only he would be so bold, but the fingers teasing your nipples, the rough palm running up your legs… they could've belonged to anyone, and that realization made your clit throb.

"Okay, okay, that's enough. I was here first," Bucky mumbled as you felt Sam's fingers slip out and the metal ones push back in— not to mention the thumb reaching up to circle your clit slowly.

He wasn't just exploring you this time; you could tell he had a mission.  The way he instantly curled into your spot, the way he moved quickly yet deliberately, all made your thighs begin to quiver.

Helmut kissed your ear, gently tilting your head to access your neck better where he began to suck hard enough to leave a mark, mumbling something in Sokovian about how good you were being for him and his guests.

You loved being good, and the praise made your hips lift a little so you could rock yourself onto Bucky's fingers; the three men chuckled proudly.

"Feels that good?" Bucky pressed, and you nodded quickly.

He fingered you even faster, harder, and you cried out.

"Ohhh fuck, Bucky!" you gasped.  "Bucky, I'm gonna come!"

"Oh no, you're not," Helmut groaned, giving you a quick spank on the inner thigh as you whined and jolted.  "James, take your fingers out."

"Do I have to?"

"You do if you want a chance to fill her with more than just your fingers…"

That worked right away, Bucky pulling back as you pouted at being empty again.

“Let’s take her inside, and we can continue this there,” Helmut suggested, and Bucky lifted you up into his arms as the Baron led the group back to the master suite.

The convenient thing about bathing suits is that it takes so little time to get naked, which is why the second the patio door was shut, Bucky and Sam were stripping as their hard cocks bobbed up against their stomachs.  As if that weren’t overwhelming enough, Helmut stepped away for a moment (which left you feeling more alone than usual) just as the men began to help you strip; Sam untied the back of your bikini while Bucky knelt and pulled down the bottoms, leaving you feeling exposed as you were totally bare before them.  Bucky smiled up at you and kissed along your thighs while Sam grabbed a handful of your ass and growled a bit under his breath.

When you looked over at Helmut, you saw he had actually dressed in his robe rather than stripping, nearly making you whine with disappointment.  But you couldn’t focus on that long as hands moved all over your skin, both of them still just slightly wet from the pool, and you shivered for both of those reasons.

You gasped when Bucky suddenly licked a thick stripe right over your folds, and if it weren’t for Sam’s arms holding you up, you might not have been able to stay standing.

Looking down at where Bucky was devouring you, he looked back up at you with a lot less dominating intensity in his eyes than you were used to seeing.  Not that you minded; after all, no one could do what Helmut did as well as he could, but maybe Bucky could do something different, and it would be just as enjoyable.  His tongue lapping at your clit was certainly wonderful so far.

Sam guided one of your hands back behind you to stroke his cock, your mouth falling slack, which he took advantage of by turning your face and capturing you in an open-mouthed kiss.  You heard your moans stifle against his tongue, felt his cock flex a bit as you smeared the precum you found at his tip.

“I think that’s enough for now,” Helmut interrupted, and everyone turned to look at him.  “Darling, come here,” he instructed with a curled finger that pointed to the bed, “hands and knees.”

You nodded and pushed the other men away, taking your place on the bed and looking up at him as he held your jaw gently.

"How long has it been since you had another man inside you, lutka?" he asked lowly.

"I can't even remember,” you admitted, “it's been so long…"

“Are you willing to try it?” he asked gently, no hint of domination or pressure in his tone, and you found yourself searching his eyes for the right answer.

“What do you want?” you asked him instead of answering.

“Draga, I’m asking what you want,” he reminded you, but you were afraid he would be hurt if you showed interest in the other men.  Sure, previous evidence indicated that wasn’t an issue for him, but your gut instinct was to deny your attraction.  So, you compromised. 

“All I want is you,” you answered first, “but…”

“But?”

“But is it awful if… if I want them to fuck me, too?”

He smiled, kissing your forehead.  “No, I don’t think so.  Only as awful as it is that I want to watch them fuck you.”

You looked up at him and smiled back, brimming with gratitude that he was so gentle with you.  It was fascinating how he wielded complete control over you and yet never used it against you.

“I have one rule, draga,” he added firmly, “you cannot come for them.  You only come for me.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And stay on your hands and knees, so I can always get a good look at you, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

He kissed you one more time before pulling away and sitting back in the chair in the corner with his ankle over his knee, looking at Sam and Bucky expectantly.  Every chair he sat in seemed to look like a throne as soon as he was in it.

“Well, get on with it, then,” he instructed, motioning to you.  The men looked at you and looked at each other before some kind of silent agreement took place and Bucky stepped up first.  Sam sat down to watch you as you felt Bucky stand near the bed behind you, flesh and metal fingers running over your back until you shivered.

Then he pressed his cock against you, coating himself in your wetness, and that made you shiver, too.

You braced yourself as he lined himself up, whimpering slightly as he pushed his cock into you as well as hearing him moan lowly.  The hand at your waist tightened as he hissed in a breath through his teeth.

"Fuck," he breathed, holding you still so he could fill you completely.  “S’tight…” he slurred.

“How does it feel for you?” Helmut asked you, raising an eyebrow as he examined your expression, your mouth fallen slack, yet your brow furrowed.

“It feels… different,” you stammered your answer.  You gasped loudly as Bucky started to move, and yes, this was very different.  His cock was curved differently and though it didn’t exactly reach any new parts of you (you were sure Helmut had already touched every part of you physically accessible), it did stroke them in new ways.  

He gained speed rather quickly, clearly too on edge himself to stay patient, and you didn’t blame him although it sent you moving faster toward the edge than you would’ve liked.  At first you wondered if it would even be a challenge to keep from coming like Helmut had demanded… you chided yourself internally for ever being so hubristic.

His legs pushed yours apart, spreading them wider, and he began to really fuck you in earnest, fast and needy and each slam of his hips against your ass harder than ever.  “O-oh fuck,” you choked, forcing your eyes shut and scrunching up your nose for a second when he slammed the tip of his cock right into the deepest spots inside you.  This position left you with nowhere to go, put your whole body on display for him along with giving you no escape from his onslaught of pleasure.  Worst of all was that you were pretty sure he wasn’t even trying that hard to make you feel good, and yet feeling used like that only turned you on more.

"Bucky, please, slow down," you whimpered.

"Absolutely do not do that," Helmut interjected sternly.  "Don't let her tell you what to do."

And, possibly just to spite you, he actually fucked you faster.  You sobbed and bit down on your lip, fighting everything building up inside you.

“You’d better not come,” Helmut warned through his teeth, “you’d better not fucking come.  You know how bad it would be for you if you came for another man.”

“Y-yes, sir,” you nodded.

But Bucky was slamming right into your spot, and he knew it, too. He knew how desperate you were becoming, and apparently, he didn’t mind at all that you’d be punished for it.  He leaned down to growl against your ear, “I know how close you are.  Don’t you think it’d feel so good to just let go and come on my cock?”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks as the force it took to hold back your orgasm became painful.  “No, it would only feel good to come for Helmut…”

“C’mon baby, just stop fighting it and come for me,” Bucky taunted, “squeeze me tight with that sweet little pussy; I know you need to so bad.”

He wasn’t wrong, but you blinked with teary eyes up at Helmut and wanted nothing more than to please him and make him proud of you.  “Please, m-make him stop,” you begged, “I won’t be able to hold back anymore…”

“He’s not going to stop until he comes, lutka, and you need to stay strong,” he explained, his voice soothing you slightly.  “You need to be my good girl.  Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

Bucky held your hips tight as he pulled your body back onto his cock, and you forced your eyes shut to try to focus on not coming.  No other man had made you come in your life but Helmut, and you had no intentions of breaking that streak.

“Think you can make me come before I make you come?” Bucky challenged.

“I have to,” you answered breathlessly.  “And I want you to come… I wanna make you come so bad, Bucky, please…”

“Mhmm?” he encouraged.

“Please, I want it, please come for me,” you whimpered.

“Fuck, I will,” he promised darkly, fucking you even harder.

Helmut interjected a brief instruction: “Pull out.” 

Bucky nodded a little, breathing heavily as you felt his cock throb slightly, especially at the base where each movement stretched you out even more.  It was so beautifully erotic and you were tensing every muscle inside you to try not to come, which helped speed him up quite a bit since you were gripping him so tight.

“Fuck,” Bucky grunted, “fuck!” 

He pulled out and instantly painted your back with a roar, sliding his cock over your ass as he pumped stream after stream of come onto you.  You sighed happily, satisfied that you had managed to stave off orgasm with perhaps only a few seconds to spare— you’d never been so happy to make someone come before because this time it brought relief that you had done well for your Baron.

Then again, you always felt that way when you made the man himself come, but this was different because you had been moments away from failing him.

Speaking of the Baron, he stared down at you proudly the whole time, kneeling down slightly to swipe his finger through the cooling spend on your back and bring it to your open lips.  “Mm, you really are my perfect little girl,” he mumbled as you sucked his finger diligently.  But he turned his attention away from you to call out across the room, “Sam!  It’s your turn.”

Your eyes went wide.  “W-wait, Helmut, I’ll come!”

“No, you won’t,” he hissed, eyes darkening again, “because I told you not to.”

And Sam was already behind you, taking Bucky’s place who had already cleaned himself up a bit and returned to his seat, letting the Baron pour him a drink which he gulped down in one go.

When Sam pushed into the end of you, your natural instinct was to arch your back up to try to keep him from going too deep, but he growled and pushed your back down again with a strong hand that made you feel so small for a moment.  “No, baby, no running away… you’re gonna take it all.”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathed, yelping a little when he roughly shoved in that last inch.

From then on, he went much harder on you than Bucky had, spanking you and gripping your ass while he fucked you, and the most embarrassing part was how much harder it made it to keep from coming.  It was clear that he realized making you come would give him power over everyone else in the room for different reasons, and he was determined to gain that power.

“Does he fuck you this good, huh?” he groaned.  

“He fucks me better,” you shot back right away, making Helmut chuckle slightly.

“If your plan is to make her switch allegiances, you’ll have to do better than that,” Helmut taunted, and Sam doubled his efforts as one hand pinched your clit and the other groped your breast.  You almost lost it right there but managed to pull yourself together, your whole body shaking with the effort to keep the pleasure at bay.

“Well, if he can fuck you better then why doesn’t he?” Sam continued his leading questions, even though you could barely keep up a conversation at this point.  “Why does he keep pimping you out to us if he’s fucking you right all on his own?”

“Don’t you understand?” you breathed, your head falling down onto the bed as you were almost able to look back enough to see his face.  “This is my punishment.  He knows I don’t want anyone else; that’s why you’re here.”

Sam smiled, perhaps in pity, and yet you honestly had to close your eyes because his smile was so lovely that it could’ve brought an end to your restraint.  “Poor thing, he’s really got you whipped.  I… still can’t believe I’m doing this, but you feel too good to stop now.”

He yanked your head back by your hair for emphasis, making you yelp as he fucked you brutally.  Your toes curled and your fingers dug into the sheets, and you had to close your eyes because the way Helmut was staring at you made this all much too difficult.  Maybe it was just that he didn’t seem jealous at all, or angry; but he didn’t seem like he was getting any excess pleasure out of this, either.  It was… almost neutral, but something burned behind his eyes brighter than maybe you’d ever seen it, his legs crossed and his fingers interlaced as he waited for you to either hold or break.

With the top half of your body fallen limply onto the bed, you reached out above your head and felt Helmut’s hand grab yours, squeezing slightly, and it helped keep you grounded as you held his fingers.

“Oh fuck, ‘m gonna come,” Sam groaned out his warning, “gonna cover this pretty ass in my come, you want that?”

“Yes, please,” you shuddered. 

“Keep begging for it,” he demanded, rushing his words as you felt his cock start to throb against your walls with his impending orgasm.  

“Please come, please come, please come on me, Sam, please,” you chanted, over and over, struggling not to come and hoping that if you could speed him up, then you could make it.

He grunted through his teeth as hot ropes of seed covered your ass; though your body was left wanting, dangling on the edge so close to your release, your mind was satisfied that you had managed to follow your Baron’s rules.

Sam stepped back to admire his work, finding another spare robe to cover himself with as he rejoined the other men across the room.

“Would you like a drink as well?” Helmut offered to Sam, unfortunately letting go of your hand in the process.  Sam was still catching his breath, running his hands over his short hair as if he was processing everything.

“No, but are those cigars up for grabs?” Sam replied, pointing to the ornate box propped open, and Helmut nodded.

“Of course; what’s mine is yours,” he answered, presenting the box and lighter to him.

“Yeah, you can say that again,” Sam added flatly, the three of them all looking at where you were sitting, covered in come and waiting patiently for your next command.

Just as you feared they’d all have their cigars and whiskey and ignore you completely, your Baron knelt down to look at you face-to-face, smiling proudly.

“You did so good for me, darling,” he cooed, and your insides clenched as if you could come just from hearing that.  “You don't think I'm horribly cruel, do you?"

"No, sir," you smiled weakly.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised with a kiss to the tip of your nose as he stepped away to the master bathroom.  

You glanced at the other men— Bucky with his crystal glass of whiskey, Sam puffing at the cigar stoically— and wondered what, if anything, you could possibly say.

“So, how’s your weekend been so far?” Sam asked you plainly, breaking the silence.

“It’s only Friday night,” you realized, sighing as you tried not to imagine how much debauchery the Baron had in store for you.  Right now you were so exhausted that it sounded like too much work; and you were so desperate only for Helmut that the idea of anybody else being involved intimidated you.

Helmut returned quickly with a washcloth, sitting beside you on the bed and placing it gently on your back.

“As pretty as you look covered in come, I’d rather not make too much of a mess,” Helmut explained as he wiped you down with the damp cloth, your skin tingling and your body crying out for more of his touch.

“Will you fuck me, sir?” you mumbled, somewhere between an honest question and a desperate plea.

“Yes, I will,” he answered, making you hum happily, “and I’m finally going to let you come.”

You bit down on your lip, trying not to moan just from hearing that.

“But I’m not going to let you stop.”

The lump in your throat was impossible to swallow, but you tried anyway as he tossed the rag away and circled the bed, standing behind where you were laying limply.  He grabbed you by your ankles and pulled you down to where he needed you, covering your body with his as he kissed the back of your neck slowly.

“I bet you’ll come the moment I’m inside you, draga,” he whispered.  You nodded in agreement, gasping a bit as you felt his cock teasing your swollen, sore pussy.  Just the tip bumping into your clit was enough to make you think you could come right there, you’d been on the edge so long.

But then he pushed into you in one stroke, not rough yet enough to reignite the soreness of being filled by two men already, and your walls started to pulse around him.  A million words swirled in your mind, words about how perfect he felt and how you’d missed him so much and how no one could fuck you like he could, but none of them made it to your mouth where you could only moan loudly.

He wrapped his arms around you, he kissed everywhere he could reach, and waves of pleasure washed over you until tears filled your eyes.  You lost count immediately, coming on his cock over and over as you became a limp, whimpering mess right away.

“You two really did miss out,” Helmut taunted the other men between his own moans, “it feels so fucking amazing to be inside her when she comes.  She gets tighter every time… blyat, so tight I can hardly control myself.”

It was already hot to hear him speak to you like that in these moments, but for him to speak to someone else, to keep you from forgetting that you weren’t alone and that these men had just fucked you and were watching you come right now?  You hadn’t even imagined before what that would be like.

“Please, please, sir, please,” you chanted, your voice breaking until you could barely whisper.

“What is it that you want, lutka?  Do you even know what you’re begging for anymore?”

“I want whatever you want, sir, please,” you cried.  He reached around your body to rub your throbbing clit, and you all but screamed.

“I know you do, beautiful, I know,” he breathed, kissing your back and shoulder tenderly to calm you.  “I love you so much, draga, you know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I love you too, Helmut,” you whispered, “more than anything.  I love being yours.”

“Aw,” you heard Bucky briefly sigh.

“Dude, shut up,” Sam corrected him harshly.

“It’s sweet!” Bucky defended.

“It’s weird; this is all so weird,” Sam frowned.

“You didn’t seem to mind before…” Bucky trailed off.

Two of Helmut’s fingers swiped over your open lips and you immediately sucked them into your mouth with a satisfied hum, the taste of his skin always comforting you.  When he rolled you onto your side, it was so much easier for him to touch you wherever he wanted and it only did more to keep you overwhelmed with pleasure until you worried you couldn’t take much more.  But you kept sucking his fingers, tears still falling which he occasionally kissed away, until he took his hand away to wrap around your neck instead.  You nodded a little to let him know it was okay to choke you, and your loud moans fell to sudden silence when he tightened his grip.  

It made your eyes roll back, it made your walls flutter and your toes start to go numb, it made you wonder if you were going to pass out whether or not he let you breathe again because your body was already ready to give in.

You sucked in a gasp when he let go, sobbing his name as a particularly deep thrust knocked you right into your peak again.  He kept one hand on your neck as the other reached between your legs to play with your abused pussy as he fucked it harder than ever.

“I can’t come anymore,” you assured, shaking your head and trying to push his hand away from your sore clit.  “I— I can’t…”

“Yes, you can, draga, I know you can. Just relax and let me keep making you feel good,” he instructed, somehow both gentle and demanding all at once.

“I… I can’t…” you breathed, nearly incomprehensible between thick sobs, but you were already coming again in spite of your words, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body from the inside out.  He choked you out into silence again, praising you all the way through it.

“There you go, shh, it’s all right,” he soothed, “you’re so beautiful, darling, so good for me, just keep going…”

You reached back to lace your fingers into his hair and tug, which did nothing to deter him from kissing your neck just beneath where his thumb gripped it, same as your hand wrapped tightly around his wrist didn’t stop him from quickly rubbing your clit.

Breath filled your lungs when he let go, and you were so desperate for relief that you felt like you weren’t even in control of your words anymore.

"Please come inside me," you begged mindlessly, "please, I need you so bad, please…"

“Is that what you need?” he groaned.  “You need to be full of my seed?”

“Yes, please, want it deep in me— fuck, Helmut, please!”

He growled and bit your ear lightly, mumbling his promise to fill you up in Sokovian— sometimes you thought he spoke Sokovian when he was about to come because he was so distracted that he forgot English, but you didn’t think that at the moment because you were currently too cockdrunk to think about anything.

His low moan echoed right through your body as you felt his cock flex and throb with each pump of come, just as deep as you’d wanted, and you sighed happily at the familiar feeling, finally relaxing into the mattress.

But perhaps you relaxed a little too soon because he made you come one more time after he’d filled you, whispering something about he wanted to use your pussy to milk every drop from his cock, but after that finally he pulled out, and you collapsed face-down onto the bed, ready to pass out even though the sun was only just beginning to set and you’d slept until noon earlier.

“Well, I think we sufficiently knocked her out,” Sam chuckled.

“‘We’?” Helmut repeated, sounding a bit offended yet bemused as he redressed.

“Okay fine, you did most of the heavy lifting, but only cause you wouldn’t let her come for us,” Sam relented with a frown.

“I swear, I was this close to getting her to break,” Bucky interjected, sighing before taking another slow sip of his (third) drink.

“Yeah, what would’ve happened if one of us made her come, anyway?” Sam wondered aloud.  “She seemed pretty worried about whatever punishment you had in store for her.”

“Nothing too terrible,” Helmut shrugged, “I just would’ve fucked her in the ass.”

Bucky choked on his whiskey as Sam tried and failed to suppress a smirk.

“She lets you do that?!” Bucky blurted out between fits of coughing.

“She lets me do whatever I want,” Helmut replied, “I’m surprised that hasn’t become abundantly clear to you by now.”

“I guess we’re still adjusting to it, that’s all,” Sam explained.  “I don’t know about you,” he looked at Bucky, “but this is new for me.”

“I was born in 1917; everything is new for me,” Bucky frowned.

“Well, this is new for us too,” Helmut assured, “especially her, she was so inexperienced when she met me…”

He paused for a moment to reminisce before glancing at you lying prone on the bed and looked totally fucked-out.

“But look at her now!” he finished.  “She takes it all in stride.”

“Yeah, she’s a trooper alright,” Sam agreed.  “Be careful with her, Zemo, ‘cause I think if you hurt her too bad, Bucky here is gonna be waiting in the wings to steal her.”

“I— what?!” Bucky snorted defensively.

“Don’t think we can’t see you giving her googly eyes, not that I blame you or anything… getting deepthroated for the first time will definitely make you catch feelings,” Sam smirked before taking a puff of the cigar again.

“It’s not like that, I’m just… listen, I guess I’m just a bit more conventional than you perverts,” he frowned.  “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful or anything, I just can’t imagine having a girl like that all to myself and letting anybody else lay a finger on her.”

“Not everyone is as insecure as you, James,” Helmut shrugged.  “Women can’t be stolen.  They can only go where they want to.  And she wants to be with me.”

He turned back to ask you if you agreed, but you were already fast asleep.  Smiling slightly, he grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed and unfolded it to drape over you; you instinctively cuddled up under it without waking up, letting out a quiet sigh.

“Goodnight, draga,” he whispered with a kiss to your forehead.  “Rest well, you’ll need it for the morning.”

[starshipsofstarlord]

Conference Room

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | Bucky gets a surprise when he realises that things that were looked down upon, and people were often disgusted by in his day and age, are wanted in this one.

Warnings | includes smut, blowjob, cum facial, Bucky being an insecure bb, swearing

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Everyone filed out of the meeting room, one by one disappearing into the maze of the compound. Bucky watched you with tender eyes, slowly following behind, as you headed for the door.

But instead of passing though the threshold, so that you could make your way on route to the kitchen, in order for you prepare yourself a well deserved drink after sitting through the small conference, you closed the door, and pushed down the latch.

The action itself made Bucky stop in his footsteps, and fix you with a confused expression. He wasn’t sure why you had locked the two of you in here. Only moments ago you had been on a group call with Fury, and now that he had signed off, all of you had been free to leave.

But that freedom that all the else had fled feebly towards, served a much different price to that for which you specifically had in mind for him. “Sergeant Barnes, I think the two of us need to have a little talk; our ears only.”

Bucky gulped, remaining upon the spot that he was stood in. He racked his mind for reasons that you would want to do this here, and not in one of your bedrooms. It would only make things more difficult for when he left the scene, heartbroken by you cutting him off, and finally pushing him away.

It was inevitable that it would happen somewhen; but it was too early. Things were finally running smoothly, he felt content and happy, and as though he were making a good difference to the world, which is all he ever wanted. However, it appeared that all of that was about to come tumbling down at his feet, in the same very moment.

The two of you hadn’t been dating too long, just short of three months. And during that time, the pair of you had never once gotten obscenely intimate. So in your case, as he viewed it, you really had nothing to lose. But he couldn’t pin point as to why you were dressed in a sly smile, and creeping ever so steadily towards him as though you had a surprise.

“Doll.” He spoke softly, thinking that it would be the last time he had the opportunity to describe you with that pet name. From the way that he addressed you, your expression quickly became more innocent and happy.

As you got closer to him, you wrapped your arms around his middle, leaning forwards and pressing a kiss upon his material covered chest. “Baby.” You greeted him, moving to his lips next, and pressing a fluid peck upon them.

“What are you doing?” He unsurely asked, his voice cracking in the meanwhile, and his face scrunching up into a confused frown. Your hands rubbed down his chest, and plucked the band of his trousers, over again in a repeated motion.

Sucking your lip into your mouth, you looked up into his sky blue eyes, reading them for any signs of him being affected by your actions. Rather than feeling aroused, it seemed to make him confused, which was not at all your intention.

“You seemed tense Buck.” Your hands raked their way back up to his shoulders, soothing any apparent tightness that were held within his muscles. “I thought maybe... I could help loosen you up.” Fluttering your eyelashes at him, Bucky lightly groaned, rubbing his lips together as he mulled over what the pair of you could possibly get up to in this room.

His hands went down to the button of your jeans, but lightly, you slapped his hands away, doing the same to him, and undoing them. As your fingers toyed with the zip that helped the denim be adjustable to his size, your other palmed him through the blue material. “This is about you James. I want to make you feel good.”

Again, he swallowed his own saliva, he paid the utmost attention to your every movement, completely compelled with how you tossed your hair to the side by simply moving your head. “You want me to suck your cock, I promise I’m good at it.” A giggle erupted from your mouth, and Bucky clasped your chin in the feather light grip of his vibranium hand.

He pulled your lips to his, warming them up before slipping his tongue inside. It had been a long time, though he hated to admit it, since he had done anything even slightly sexual, and a part of him was afraid that he wouldn’t last long.

But the other was excited, back in the forties , blowjobs weren’t often digressed. The idea had always appealed to hun, however no dame had ever wished to dirty their knees before him, and take his sufficient length down their throat. It pained him a little, knowing that like most people he had encountered through his life, that they would take from him, but never return it with an ounce of kindness.

He’d perceive it as a dream come true, the woman that owned his entire heart, independently wanting to pleasure him in such ways that were looked down upon in his day. “Are you sure?” He pulled away, desperate for some clarity on the matter.

“Yes, of course I am.” You smiled, drawing him in for another locked lip session. After a minute or two of tasting his tongue, you trailed your direction down, running down his chin, and then his neck, until you completely dropped to your knees, rutting your hand against his growing cock.

Right then, from that image alone, Bucky swore that he would die. That innocent expression that was entailed upon your face had him mentally cursing, and he couldn’t help but groan to himself in a relaxed manner as you pulled his jeans down to his ankles, leaving only his boxers as the final barrier.

Lightly, you pressed a kiss to where you guessed his tip to be through the cotton, gently running your tongue down the shaft, and lower down to where his balls were stationed. “Y/n, please stop teasing.”

“Tell me Bucky.” Your fingertips cascaded up and down his v line, warming him up to what was to come(pun intended). “Have you ever been sucked off before?” His heart rate picked up, as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“How did you- that punk!” He said in reference to Steve, realising that he must have let the detail slip to you. But he couldn’t be made really, if the captain hadn’t digressed his secret to you, then he may have waited longer to experience the enthralling and dirty, as it had been known to be, engagement.

Without any pressure, you pressed your teeth upon his cock, dragging his attention back towards you. “Now that is no way to talk about your dear friend, I’d say he did you a favour.” He was getting ready to grumble in his Bucky manner, but was hit with your gasp as you suddenly pulled his boxers down, his dick slapping upwards, having your entire focus.

Reaching forward with a hand, you wrapped it around the mid section of his shaft, your palm hardly fitting around his girth. “It’s so big.” You gaped at the sight, moving your hand up and down to gouge a reaction out of the super soldier above you. His head leant back, his eyes screwing shut as he realised just how sensitive he was. He felt like a virgin all over again.

An obscene and loud moan was pulled from his mouth as you ran your tongue up his shaft, humming at the taste of his intimate skin. With the encouragement of his lie noises, you directed his tip towards your lips, rubbing it upon the cushioned flesh, before sinking him halfway in your mouth.

“Holy fuck!” He exclaimed, reaching down and on instinct entangling his metal hand in your loose hair. As though you were doing nothing, you innocently looked up at him with wide doe eyes., although he could feel you hollowing your cheeks around him, as you began to bob your head.

Only then did he realise how experienced you must have been within this department, for he noticed how you didn’t struggle nor gag the slightest around him, and it appeared that you were enjoying it as much as he was.

One of your hands planted itself on the thickness of his thigh as your other found homage with fondling his balls. His chest rapidly moved as he felt every slither of your tongue around him, and as you pulled slightly back, you began dipping it in the line of his slit.

“Baby, slow down, or I’m going to cum.” With his words heard, you took him out of your mouth, wrapping your hand around his saliva soaked rod, and began pumping him rapidly. For a moment, he swore his head was going to explode as he saw you stick your tongue out, awaiting his load that was soon to be delicious.

“Cum Buck. Want you to cum for me.” It was impossible for him to hold back any longer, and thus, his seed flew over the expanse of your tongue, whilst the rest spurted over one side of your face. “Hmm.” You mumbled, swallowing that of it that you caught, and scooping a swipe into your mouth.

“I swear to god that I’m in love with you.” He spoke breathily as you stood up, both of your faces flushed from the activity. He pulled you in for a few pecks, to which you could do nothing more than stare into his oceanic pools.

“Well that’s encouraging.” You laughed, reaching down and tucking his softening cock back into his boxers and jeans, giving it a loving pat before pulling away. “I love you too Bucky Barnes; always.”

“The conference room though, really?” He asked with a bemused laugh, causing you to shrug. “You’ve got to walk out of here now.” He said, motioning to the mess on your face.

“That is something that I didn’t think of.” You responded, your eyes darting a around the room, until your eyes landed on the box of tissues that Tony had brought in at the start of the meeting. Thank Thor for his cold! “Grab me some paper towels from the corner would you babe?”

He sent you a pleased, and you’d say very satisfied smile, before stepping back, and heading in the direction of the desk, picking a few sheets out of the cube, and walking back to help you clean up. He felt like he at least owed you that much.

[solemnly-mischievous]

Could pls you write something where the marauders and you are taking about your safe word and boundaries?!

Thanks! <33

hell yeah! remember kids, if you're gonna engage in Practices of Dominant and Submissive Dynamics, these talks are always very important and essential and good. consent is sexy. stay safe. all that.

also, i'd never claim to be an expert on the topics they talk about - if i get anything off or word anything poorly, do tell me and i'll amend that.

anyway also the things they put on their hard limit list are not off the table for future fics, so keep that in mind :)

Contains: Fluff, discussion of bodily fluids & cnc, mentions of degradation and praise

Word count: 1.5K

------

It's about one AM in the Gryffindor common room, and all your housemates are asleep—the only sound you can hear is the crackling of the fireplace and the sound of pages turning as Remus flips through his book.

You're laying in Remus' lap, his fingers combing absentmindedly through your hair and massaging your scalp. It feels so good.

"Oi—watch the cakes—"

"You watch your stupid feet, Prongs, you're stepping on my cloak—"

"—I swear to god if you drop the pumpkin juice, I'll throw you and your bloody cloak into the fire—"

"Merlin, James, shut up, you're so loud—"

You hear Remus huff a soft laugh and you smile along: Your boyfriends are many things, but stealthy and discreet are not one of them. One would think the infamous pranksters of Hogwarts would be better at sneaking around in the dead of night—but then again, who needs to be light on their feet when there are charms and Invisibility Cloaks?

James and Sirius enter the common room as quietly as they can manage—which is to say, not that quiet at all—each bearing a large plate full of midnight snacks and drinks they've retrieved from the kitchen. (The house elves are always more than happy to see them.)

"Aw, look at them," Sirius murmurs to James, and he nods, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he looks at you and Remus. It's certainly a heartwarming scene, and you'd be content to stay there forever, but something's missing.

"C'mere," you whisper to the boys, holding your arms out and making grabby hands. "Cuddle."

They're more than happy to oblige, setting the plates on the table in front of the couches and piling on, Sirius leaning against Remus' shoulder and James sitting on the floor in front of you and Remus. You reach out and tug at his curls affectionately—he leans into the touch.

"We brought you your favorite chocolate cakes," James murmurs to you. "The elves made more just for you—even they know you love them. Oh, and Remus—there's pumpkin juice for you."

"Thank you," Remus says warmly, ruffling James' hair as he reaches by to grab a goblet. "Did you say hi to the elves for me?"

"Yeah," Sirius says, "they miss you and they're going to file for divorce if you don't visit them soon."

"Divorce? From all of them?" Remus' tone is laughing. "I don't think I could handle the legal fees."

"Who'd get custody?" you wonder.

"Besides, Moony knows he's married to us, if not legally but in spirit. When you think about it, Moony's a homewrecker," James jokes, and Sirius cackles in delight.

Your eyelids droop as Remus scratches along your scalp lightly, and Sirius catches you. "Hey, hey, wait, we're not sleeping yet. We have things to talk about."

"Talk about them faster," you mumble, and James laughs.

"Alright, alright," Remus says amiably. "We'll make it fast so you can get to sleep soon, alright? But you're gonna need to be coherent and awake right now, okay?"

"Fine," you whine, and you ease into a sitting position so you aren't tempted to fall asleep right there.

"Good girl," Sirius murmurs, and you shiver involuntarily.

"Okay, none of that right now—clear heads, all of us," Remus says. He looks at you and gives you a small smile. "There'll be plenty of time for that later."

"So how do we start?" Sirius asks. "Do we just... talk about what works, what doesn't?"

"I think we should start with the safeword." Remus hums thoughtfully. "You guys know the stoplight system?"

You and James shake your heads; Sirius nods.

"Green for go on, yellow for slow down, red for stop," Remus explains. "It's important to check in consistently, so we can be sure everything's alright."

"Wait, so yellow is..." You trail off.

"Yellow is, er, we don't need to stop, but I'm not one hundred percent comfortable or confident in what we're doing right now, so can we slow down and talk about it or change what we're doing?" Sirius explains, and you nod.

"Ah." You think about it. "Right, yeah, I think the stoplight system sounds fine."

"Same," James says, and Sirius voices his agreement.

In all your time at Hogwarts, the early years especially, never in a million years would you have thought you'd be here right now—in a polyamorous relationship with the troublemakers of the grade, discussing safewords and kink negotiations.

But what's life without a few surprises?

"We can all use the colors," Remus adds, "even if we're not the one subbing. Anyone can check in at anytime. Okay?"

Once that's been established, he pushes forward with, "Okay, so nitty-gritty: What are our boundaries? What do we not want to touch with a ten-foot pole?"

"No bodily fluids," James puts forth, "except for, well, you know. Just spit and come, I think. No blood or piss or anything like that."

You nod. "I don't wanna draw blood. Pain is okay, like bruises and bitemarks or the like, but I don't know about actual... wounds and stuff. For now, at least."

Remus nods. "Absolutely."

"Oh," Sirius says, looking vaguely bashful—which is a sight, because the Sirius Black, looking shy? "Um. I like to dom, right? Like usually, I do. But when I switch and sub, er, I don't like to be degraded. I love doing the degrading, but I don't know about being the degraded one."

Knowing Sirius' past, you understand completely. The rest of the Marauders nod as well, and James shifts towards Sirius, leaning against his leg in a comforting gesture. Sirius smiles at him, soft and affectionate.

"How about you, Moony?" you ask Remus.

"Hm." He thinks about it for a second. "I don't think I would want to do consensual non-consent."

"What's that?" James pokes at Remus' leg.

"Like, when you agree beforehand that a scene is going to be... Non-consensual. Usually, it's so the sub can pretend to struggle and protest and fight back and such. It's a fantasy, kinda like a coping mechanism, and I get it, and I respect people who do like it, but I don't think it's for me."

"So, all in all," Sirius summarizes, "No bodily fluids, no blood, no forced fantasies."

"Sums it up about right," James agrees. "And no degradation for when you're subbing."

"Yep."

"If at any time we think of something that we want to add to the hard-limit list," Remus says, "just say it. Even if it's the middle of a scene or anything, consider this a priority."

Sounds of agreement and understand come from the three of you.

"Also, just for a semi-reference," Sirius says, "I'm a switch, with a lean for being dominant. Remus is... I think, just dominant?"

Remus inclines his head. "I've never had the urge to sub, yet. Again, things might change."

Personally, you thought the idea of Remus on his knees, begging for the three of you, was very appealing, but that's up to Remus to decide.

"I'm also a switch, but I don't know if I have a lean," James pipes up. "I enjoy both equally, it just kind of depends on the moment."

Sirius nods, then looks at you. You're in the middle of leaning over James' head to nab a chocolate cake from the platter—the epitome of grace and dignity.

"I'm a switch," you say, chocolate cake in hand, "with a submissive lean. Like, I think... I think one day, I'd like to try to dom. Maybe. But usually I'm more than happy to sub."

"What a well-balanced group we are," James comments, and Remus snickers.

You yawn right on cue, and Sirius laughs. "Getting too tired, are we?"

"Yeah, but! I was absolutely clearheaded through all that. Fully concentrated. No distractions."

James eyes your chocolate cake.

"One distraction."

"I suppose we can talk about other things another night," Remus says, as your eyelids flutter again with tiredness.

"Other things?" James asks.

"Yeah. Specific kinks, stuff we'd like to try. Rules, corresponding punishments..." The werewolf winks at you. "Rewards."

"I like rewards," you murmur sleepily.

"For another night," Sirius agrees, yawning as well. He looks sadly at the two plates of goodies stacked on the table. "We got all that food for nothing."

"Nah, we can bring it back up to our dorm and charm it so it doesn't go bad," James says. "No worries."

"Right, right. Alright, you grab one plate, Remus grabs the other, I'll take her back up."

"Hey, why do you get to take her?"

"Because I said it first," Sirius maintains, like the dignified adult he is, and scoops you up before any of the other Marauders can protest.

You fall asleep that night on James' bed, in his warm embrace and surrounding by the calming sounds of your boyfriends' steady breathing. All in all, it hasn't been a bad night at all.

[stariwrites]

Part One

Red: An Underground Hero Deku x Crime lord fem! Reader

18+ Minors DNI or else I’ll revoke your kneecaps

Author’s Note: All characters are aged up and this fic is a monstrosity so I figured I’d split it up into two parts this is part one and I’ll link part 2 as well when I post it

Tw: fem dom, corruption kink, praise kink, biting/marking, club setting, dry humping, slight choking, alcohol is mentioned (Izuku doesn’t drink it) use of the pet name baby boy, semi public sex

Thank you to @chaos-night for beta reading, I appreciate it!!

For @yixxes I hope you like it!!

Do not repost or share

“None are known to be good, till they have an opportunity to be bad”-Benjamin Whichcote

Summary: From the day you laid your eyes on Izuku Midoriya you knew you were going to be drawn to him. 

From the day you laid your eyes on Izuku Midoriya you knew you were going to be drawn to him. There was something about the way the college student stood in front of you with his arms drawn into himself as if he shrank far enough he would disappear. You couldn’t help but smile softly at him. 

The man in front of you was impressive to say the least even though he didn’t look it. He was able to track your group for days without your people even knowing. He documented everything in notebooks he carried with him. You watched as his Adam's apple bobbed the more he stared at you. He was trembling slightly, but his eyes never wavered. They held a fire behind them, one that you couldn’t even begin to describe. 

“Midoriya, right?” you asked, folding your hands in front of yourself.

“What do you want with me.” 

It wasn’t a question. Part of you grinned at the challenge. You had to give him credit, his voice only shook a small amount. Anybody else wouldn’t have been able to have the courage to do so, much less to you. 

Standing up from your chair, you signaled to the guards on either side of the door to stand down when they tried to move closer, weapons raised. 

“Do you know who we are?” you asked peering down at the streets below you. All Might was battling a water quirk user. You scowled at the scene before you, it was only a matter of time before he beat them to a pulp. 

“I know,” he said slowly in an attempt to keep his voice level, “that you’re an organization dedicated to uprooting false heroes.” 

Without turning around you gestured for him to continue. You watched his reflection in the window, he took a deep breath almost willing himself to talk once more. 

“You took Endeavor down and made a deal with Stain.”

“Very good,” you clapped, turning back around to face him. He was focused entirely on you. ”Now do you know who I am?” 

He didn’t hesitate, “The Woman in Red, heroes and villains alike haven’t been able to catch you. Nobody knows what your quirk is or if you even have one.”

You nodded to yourself, he showed promise. If you could use it to your advantage there would be no way your plan would fail. With his help you could uproot the fakest hero of them all.

“Tell me, what do you think of us Midoriya?”

It took him a couple of seconds to register what you said judging by the way his green eyes were transfixed on the destroyed All Might poster off to the side of the room. 

“A reminder,” he jumped at the sound of your voice while his eyes fixed themselves onto you. “All Might isn’t the hero that everybody believes he is,” you watched his eyes widen at your words. Part you assumed it was from shock at the way you said them so carelessly, but there was something else there. It was swimming under the surface almost begging to be unleashed.

Before you could place it, he coughed and straightened his posture. He could’ve looked confident when he stood like that if he didn’t shrink into himself at the last moment. With the proper training he’d stand to his full size without feeling insecure.

“Why am I here?” his voice was softer than before, concealed. It made a vicious smirk cross onto your face. You couldn’t wait to help him unlock his true potential. The thought alone almost had you pouncing on him, but you refrained. You wouldn’t scare him away just yet.

You moved closer to him, allowing your nails to drift across the wood over your desk before using one of them to tilt Midoriya’s face closer to yours. He didn’t pull away.

“Because, Izuku Midoriya,” you refused to leave his gaze, “I want you to join Chimera.”

He gulped at the proximity, “And if I refuse?” 

You couldn’t help the breathless laugh that escaped your lips. He was too cute for his own good. You flicked your eyes to his before locking them on his lips. 

“Then, I guess I’ll just have to find a way to persuade you,” you emphasized the words by moving closer until your lips brushed against his. You watched as he unconsciously closed his eyes and leaned into it, but before your lips fully touched you turned towards the door. 

You didn’t miss the pout that crossed onto his face when you broke away, but he missed the sadistic smile you wore as you gestured for the guards to file out. All you received in return was a nod from them until they headed out the door. 

When it was your turn you held the door open, but before leaving you met his gaze one last time.

“I’ll give you two weeks to make a decision, until then I look forward to our next meeting,” you purred and leaned against the open door in a way that rivaled Jessica Rabbit, “Izuku Midoriya.”

After you spoke those final words you left with a laugh while he stood in the dark room wondering what just happened.

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

“She wants you to join, huh?” Aizawa said from where he was perched on the rooftop. His eyes were scanning below, from the lights of the buildings Midoriya could make out the bags under the man’s eyes. It had to be a late night that was for sure.

Part of Izuku felt guilty pulling the man away from much needed sleep, but being an underground hero he needed allies and the only one with enough experience was Aizawa.

“What should I do?” he asked, moving out of the darkness and closer to the man. He watched the capture scarf blow in the wind slightly while he shivered. It was becoming colder even in Spring, he’d have to get warmer gear. 

Out of the corner of his eye Aizawa seemed to notice because a soft smile slid onto his face, “I told you to bundle up problem child, but you never listen.” 

Before Midoriya could say anything a jacket was flung his way, he jumbled it until he was able to hold it steady. Peering down his eyes widened with disbelief.

“Are you just going to stand there or put it on?”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Stumbling out a yes, he wrapped the jacket around him and zipped it up. It was sleek, light fitting but also warm. Izuku couldn’t help but sink into the feeling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged, but wearing that coat he felt like he received the biggest embrace in the world.

A peaceful silence fell over the two of them while they stared out at the streets below. It was a quiet night, the only sounds were of the cars driving by and an occasional group of friends walking past. Their voices echoed off the buildings and were burned into Izuku’s ears. 

He wondered what that was like, having friends. He knew going down the path he was on would be dangerous. He couldn’t have time for them if he was going to save people, especially since there was a chance they could become targets.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if his life would’ve been different if he’d had them when he was younger.

“I think,” Aizawa began, causing Izuku to fix his eyes onto his mentor. “That you should do it. You can get into their organization and gain intel, be a double agent of sorts.”

Izuku’s heart stopped. “Me?” he sputtered, “Do you really think I could pull something like that off? Half of the pro heroes have tried to take Chimera down and they’ve come up empty handed everytime! And besides the only reason I followed them was to bring the information to you!

How do you know I won’t end up like the others?”

“I don’t,” came the response. Izuku expected that to be it and for Aizawa to leave, but instead he turned to Midoriya and placed his fist on his protege’s chest, “But if there’s one thing I know it’s that if anybody could take down Chimera it would be you.”

Izuku focused his gaze onto the ground until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Aizawa shot him a look of genuine faith. “She went out of her way to try and recruit you. I doubt she’ll want to hurt you, but keep your guard up.”

With a nod of understanding followed by an “I will”, the man took that as his cue and began to walk towards the edge of the building.

“You don’t have to of course, but if you do, don't try to do everything on your own kid. You’ve got me. And it’s about time you actually started working on the front lines rather than behind the scenes.”

 With that he was off, a sigh left Midoriya’s lips. He’d been told time and time again that he wasn’t cut out for field work. Not with college he was juggling as well as the fact that his lack of a quirk was always taken into account. He stared up at the sky, he couldn’t remember when he became like this. 

He thought back to the earlier times where he constantly believed he could be a hero. He still believed, but it was subdued. Sad even, but he’d try. If he could take them down it would mean helping more people. 

“I wish you were here, mom,” he said to the stars while tears began to slide down his face, “I’m a little lost right now.”

————————————————————————------------------------------

The two weeks seemed to crawl by. Izuku was getting restless. He knew his decision, but he couldn’t find Chimera anywhere. He checked every back alley, store, restaurant that the members usually went in and came up empty handed. Even when he did find the members and tried to follow them shouting wait or slow down it was like they’d disappear at the last second. 

After running around for nearly three hours he found a bench next to a nearby park and took a seat. He tossed his head back, attempting to get all of the air he lost back. His clothes stuck to him uncomfortably while his forehead was making his hair stick to it. 

They sure can run when they really want to, he thought in between puffs of air. He didn’t know how he’d make it through patrolling, especially now. He dreaded the thought, clutching his side at the reminder. He managed to take Muscular down but not without the villain getting a few hits in. It was worth it though, considering Koda’s smile once he was discharged from the hospital. 

Yeah, he thought looking up at the sky with a serene smile. It had been worth it. 

After catching his breath, he was about to get up from the bench until a person sat down next to him with a note. They didn’t look at Midoriya, instead they were focused straight ahead. The shades made it difficult to see their eyes, while their hoodie and jeans made them look like an ordinary person.

“An invitation,” the person grumbled out, “Don’t be late.” 

Izuku didn’t watch them go, flipping the envelope over he noticed neatly scrawled out cursive. The envelope itself was red with a wax gold stamp. A chimera was in the center while the cursive was in gold. He didn’t open it until he was safe in his apartment.

His breath hitched as he read the words over and over again to make sure he had them right. Once he realized he did, he texted Aizawa on the burner phone they used specifically for underground work and buried his head in his hands.

“What am I getting myself into?”

------------------------------------------------------———————-------------------

The neon lights bathed everybody into an ocean of colors. People were swarmed into the center of the room, dancing and grinding on anybody close to them. The bass caught in Midoryia’s chest as he navigated through the crowd. He glanced around, taking all the strobing lights in. The letter said to meet at The Tavern, but it never specified where.

After bumping into several people and almost being roped into dancing, he finally found the bar. He took a seat and checked his phone as he waited for his nerves to calm down. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to one of these. He thought back to freshman year when he first started out he’d gone to a local club to see what it was like only to realize he wasn’t really fond of it.

“Not exactly your scene is it?” a bartender asked, sliding him a drink. Midoriya looked up at the woman with a sheepish smile. She looked to be about his age, her short hair framing her face. Earphones were dangling  from ears. Must be her quirk, Izuku thought with excitement. Her pierced brow was raised as she stared at Midoriya.

“Is it that obvious?”

She hummed for a moment, studying him before she nodded, “Nobody wears a shirt that says ‘Club Shirt’ on it. It’s an interesting pick.”

He flushed slightly and rubbed the back of his neck. He knew he should’ve gone with something different. 

“Yeah,” he said trailing off until his eyes landed on the drink.

“I don’t—”

Before he continued the woman stopped him, “It’s on the house, you’re waiting for her aren’t you?” 

He was about to ask how she knew when you sat down next to him with a smile, “I see you’ve met Jirou, my most trusted friend.” 

Izuku watched as the woman, Jirou’s face turned bright red. He almost thought he heard a don’t mention it before she went off to serve more drinks, leaving him with you. 

He was nervous, that much was easy to tell with the way his eyes kept jumping from corner to corner. Poor thing you thought while his leg bounced up and down. Part of you cringed, he felt out of place.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” 

The sound of your voice over the music snapped his attention back to you. Taking his blank stare and furrowed eyebrows as a sign, you huffed out a laugh and repeated yourself. He joined in albeit nervously.

“It’s okay,” he said, stirring his drink with the straw, “You planned to meet here. I don’t want to cause any trouble,” he took a deep breath, “Boss.” 

You turned to him with wide eyes before waving him off as you leaned closer to the table, “You don’t have to call me boss you know,” you said nonchalantly, “Not even the guards call me that.” 

He couldn’t help but stare at you in awe. How you were able to be so calm in a place like this was beyond him, but it helped him relax. With furrowed brows he focused back on his straw. The ice clanked against the glass, but he couldn’t hear it over the song playing. 

“What should I call you then?”

Just like the first time you met, you used one of your fingers to tilt his head up, he could feel your breath mingle with his while his face turned a vibrant shade of red. He silently thanked the lights for making it almost impossible for you to see it. He watched as your eyes clouded over while a sinister smile fell onto your face. It made him feel small underneath it. 

Before he could say anything, you leaned in close to his ear. 

“I have a couple ideas,” your words sent goosebumps to ripple against his skin while his mouth felt dry. He wanted to know what they were, wanted to ask. What was going on with him?!

He didn’t have much time to dwell once he felt your breath ghost against his neck. It was warm and sent shivers down his spine. He briefly felt the touch of your lips against him, part of him hoped you wouldn’t pull away. 

“Please,” he rasped before he could stop himself. Your lips curled into a grin, one of your hands snaked from the table to bury itself in his green hair. 

“Let’s get out of here.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

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

The cool air of the outside clashed with the warmth from the club. Izuku barely processed your lips meeting only to find that in the next minute he was up against the brick wall behind the club. Your hands tangled themselves into his green curls causing him to whimper against your lips.

“Fuck,” you muttered, pussy clenching at the sound he made. You wanted to hear more, wanted him to scream. You placed your knee in between his legs, he instantly started to grind down on your thigh. He tried to pull away from you, but that only made you hold his curls tighter before letting him go. A string of saliva was all that left the connection until you wiped it away with the back of your sleeve. 

Izuku’s face was flushed as he tried to catch his breath. Everything about you was intoxicating, especially the way you looked him up and down like he was your prey. He was still grinding against you, his puffs of air were visible in the night. It wasn’t until you touched his side that he flinched.

You pulled your hand away in concern, but he was quick to shush you with the way his lips latched back onto yours. He could tell you about the wound later, you thought. His lips were soft against yours, when you met for another kiss you opened your mouth. Catching the hint, he opened his mouth enough for you to snake your tongue into his mouth. Judging from the way he was grinding faster against you with broken moans you could tell he was enjoying himself. 

You pushed him further into the wall, it was surely digging into his back by now, but he made no sound of pain. You made sure to avoid his waist, instead you grabbed a hold of his belt loops and yanked his lower body into an arch.

“Oh my god,” Midoriya groaned, tossing his head back against the wall. He needed more, you were everywhere, breathing into his neck, sucking and biting the skin there. Weakly he went to push you off.

“No marks-can’t ah-can’t ngh cover them.” 

A grin casted onto your face. He was so cute like this, all sprawled out under you just as you knew he’d be. You kissed the skin close to his pressure point before staring directly into Izuku’s eyes. Your lips brushed against each other. His eyelashes fluttered as he went to close the space, but you held his neck with one hand and pressed him back.

“I don’t think so baby,” you whispered. Your voice lower in pitch. You didn’t miss the way his pulse jumped under your fingers. Your eyes widened in shock until you gained back control. This was more interesting than you thought. “Does the little hero like this, hm? You like being helpless?” To emphasize your words, you guided his hips with one hand and ground him against your thigh once more. 

A high whine escaped his mouth before he could prevent it. He knew this was wrong, that he should stop this but the way your hand made him dizzy around him and the pressure against his cock caused his mind to become fuzzy. What Aizawa didn’t know didn’t hurt him anyway.

“Please,” he whimpered, meeting your leg. He wanted more--no he needed more. “I’ll do anything, I’ll do anything just please.”

“Such a needy little thing aren’t you?” With a huff you slowly stop moving. Tears sprang into the corners of Midoriya’s eyes as he thrashed in an attempt to bring some of the pleasure back, but you only moved your leg away. Broken no’s spilled from his lips and into the cracks of the brick wall. He’s a mess of babbles and pleas. You wait a second longer until you lick a tear from his face, starting at his chin and stopping just below his cheek bone.

He’s about to thank you when you send him a devilish smirk and drop to your knees in front of him. The sight alone causes him to reach his high. You let him calm down, rubbing his thighs through his jeans. You whisper soft encouragements that he can barely decipher. 

Looking up at him you can see that his pupils are still blown wide while his chest is heaving up and down. Under the neon red light he looks perfect. You want to devour him, but you hold back. Soon he’d learn how to get hard just by your words alone, but first you’d have to train him.

It isn’t until he comes down from his high that he realizes what he’s done. Mortification falls over him faster than you thought from the way his face flushes even further. You wished he wasn’t in so many clothes, you could almost bet that the same would be found on his neck leading to his chest.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to, I tried holding it in but-”

Slowly, you rose to your feet and before he could stumble over more excuses you kissed his cheek whispering “Good boy,” into his ear. If Midoriya hadn’t just cum he would’ve from those words alone. 

You laughed softly at his body’s reaction before breaking away from him fully. You don’t miss the pout that formed on his face when you stepped away. At first it was cute, but now seeing it after this made something snap. You quickly grabbed him by the jaw and traced your thumb over his bottom lip. 

“Such a sweet little mouth, making all those pretty sounds earlier, but I think I have more uses for it rather than just pouting,” you locked onto his wide eyes. “Wouldn’t you say, Midoriya?”

He could only nod against you, completely trapped under your gaze. You had him right where you wanted him. “Well then baby boy,” you said detaching yourself once more. “Get to work.”

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

Midoriya woke up in a cold sweat for the umpteenth time that week. He fell back into the pillow with a groan. It had been weeks since that encounter and he was desperate to do it again. He couldn’t escape the sound of your moans echoing in the night or the way your nails dug into his hair just right to send waves of pleasure zipping down his back. And the way you tasted, he craved feeling you against his tongue, drowning in you. 

However now that he was officially part of Chimera after being tested the night after he was able to taste you, it had been pretty standard. There was nothing out of the ordinary, the organization ran just like how any other underground facility would. Midoriya had his own jobs that he had to handle such as keeping track of shipments and making sure nobody was caught. He didn’t have much to report back to Aizawa which caused the older man to worry.

Izuku huffed at the sound of his phone vibrating on the nightstand. Speak of the devil. Why couldn’t the man just leave him alone? He knew what he was doing and what he went there to do. Even if his mind was preoccupied with you, he would still put Chimera down first and besides you weren’t serious about him either. 

Without looking at the contact he put the phone up to his ear. “Look Aizawa I’m fine I don’t need you checking up on me every second of every day so please just this once don’t contact me on my day off.”

Izuku expected to hear the gruff voice sigh into the other line and promptly begin telling Izuku why checking in is important because it could mean the difference between life and death which, being an underground hero, the lines tend to blur. 

Instead, there was a delayed pause followed by a low whistle, “And he lets you talk to him like that? I’m impressed.”

At the sound of your voice, he instantly shot up from the futon. “Boss, hey um why are you calling?” His blood froze for a second. “I didn’t miss anything, did I?!” He tossed the covers off of him and was about to head to his dresser to change when his foot got caught in the sheets causing him to crash to the ground.

You heard the loud bang on the other line causing you to snort. There was a heavy sound of stomping followed by another brief crash that caused you to look out into the city with a smile. You were reminded in that moment that he was still a college student, so full of life. 

“Nope, I was just calling to check in.”

Midoriya scowled on the other end of the phone. “You and Aizawa both. I’m fine if that’s what you’re wondering. I have all my body parts intact and none of them are broken,” he even wiggled his hands and sat back on the futon to swing his feet even though you couldn’t see him. “Thank you very much,” he said dryly. 

You hummed, mulling over his response. Ever since he joined he’s been more sure of himself, capable. It was an accepted change, after all he needed to be strong. Especially if your plan was going to work. After all, the stronger they are the more fun to break.

“He and I are alike then. You do realize that there’s a very fine line between life and death, right? People like us have to stick together.”

“How are you both the same person?”

That question alone had you laughing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Midoriya, but I do have something you can do for me.”

He perked up at that. “What is it?”

“I’ll pick you up, how does noon sound?”

“Yes-” he said all too fast before coughing. “I mean yeah sure, whatever works for you.”

“Good, be sure you’re ready early, I always come on time.” 

With that you hung up the phone and spun back to face your office desk. Phase one was complete, now you could move on to phase two. Leaning your head on the desk, you could feel rather than see Jirou’s eyes boring holes into your forehead.

“Why aren’t you worried about Midoriya?”

You cocked you head to the side. “Why would I need to be worried?”

“He’s working with Aizawa.” It wasn’t a question, but it didn’t need to be. You knew Izuku was working with the man for years before he even discovered your group, but that didn’t matter. You thought back to his confidence, how he was able to give orders and stand up for himself now, but still looked at you to make sure he wasn’t speaking out of turn. It caused a fire to burn in the pit of your stomach.

“Rest assured, Midoriya won’t be a problem. After all,” you said interlocking your hands on top of the desk. “I have him wrapped around my finger.”

tag list: @chaos-night​ @yixxes​ 

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[randomshyperson]

The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - Chapter 20 - Agatha's Memories (Part Two)

My official gif maker @abimess, thank you.

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies.

Series Masterlist ||  Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Chapter 20 - Part XX - Agatha's Memories (Part Two)

You don’t sleep for long, there is a sound of something breaking that makes you blink confusedly as you move on your bed.

Then you realize that it is the wood up your head that is moving, along with a red magic that you know very well.

You look forward, only to find Wanda with an impassive look on her face as she merges the bed into one.

“I’m sleeping with you from now on.” She says simply as she finishes, and you lay back on the mattress, not sure of what to say about that.

You hold your breath as you hear her taking off her shoes, changing to her pajamas next, staring on the roof of the tent as she does it.

She pulls the blanket to lie down, and then is mimicking your position.

"Would...would it be okay if I hugged you?" she asks after a moment, and you feel your heart race.

"I'd like that." You mumble clumsily, turning to the opposite side.

And it takes half a second for Wanda to wrap her arms around your waist, burying her face in your shoulders, inhaling your perfume and making you blush heavily.

Your legs entwine from underneath the comforter, and you feel more secure than you ever have before.

"I'm sorry." She murmurs against your skin. You think she is talking about what happened with the horcrux, and you just nod softly, but she repeats the apology against your ear, intertwining her hands in front of your belly, and you realize she is talking about everything.

"I love you." She confesses next, and you feel your eyes fill with tears.

The hug gets tighter, and you sink your face into the pillow, allowing yourself to cry.

And Wanda doesn't let go, even when you sob, and it takes a while, but you finally fall asleep. And when you do, she stays.

//-//-//-//

You woke up first. And you don’t wanna get up. Not when you have Wanda wrapped around you like this, your face buried her neck, as you both turned around during the night, and now your legs are completely entwined, and you are practically lying on top of her.

And all you do is sink even deeper against her body, sighing against her skin. She smells so good.

"-morning." She whispers hoarsely, still with her eyes closed, her hands around your body moving slowly against your back down and up, and you just murmur into her skin wishing you could stay in that moment forever.

"We should get up." Wanda says after a moment in silence, not seeming to really wish to do so.

"No, thank you." You retort and your voice comes out muffled against her neck, the vibration making her laugh.

"We need to darling, I think we have some lessons. "She says and you mumble softly, the curiosity to pursue the story Agatha was telling is enough to make you pull away.

But when you are about to let go of Wanda, she pulls on your forearm, and you look at her with confusion, but she moves forward and kisses you firmly.

It's slow, and soft. It makes you sigh, so you kiss her back, sinking right back onto the bed as her hands wrap around your hair to deepen the kiss.

When her tongue asks for passage, you see stars, melting under her touch. Wanda smiles against your lips, pulling you by the shoulders to lie on top of her.

But before you can do so, the sound of footsteps catches your attention, along with a soft hiss, and you grumble before pulling away.

Throwing your face back into the pillow, you try to calm your breathing and rapid heartbeat as Agatha strolls through the tent, until she comes to your room.

"Are the sleeping beauties going to get up, or should I bring coffee in bed?" She teases with her arms crossed as Wanda hides her smile as she notices your state. "You two know this isn't a honeymoon trip, right?"

"Stop being so bitter, Agatha." Wanda complains as she sits up. "We'll be right there."

"And a good day to us, ladies." The older witch retorts before leaving.

Wanda laughs softly, turning her attention back to you as you scramble up on the bed to sit down as well.

"How are you?" she asks, intertwining your hands on top of the mattress, and you let your gaze roam over her face, biting your lips against the urge to kiss her again.

"Fine." You murmur half hoarsely, from sleep or lust, Wanda will never know. "And you?"

"Better." She says with a nod, and you feel your heart race. Better with you here.

Wanda squeezes your hand before letting go, and she stands up, looking at you one last time before walking off toward the bathroom.

You sigh as you throw yourself back against the mattress, trying to push away the feeling of her tongue against yours and focus on the fact that you were even closer to completing your mission with one less horcrux to destroy.

//-//-//-//

“Where are we now?” You asked as you observed the surroundings. It’s the entrance of an old garage, in the corner of a city. But the real Agatha ignores your question as she guides you two inside, further into the memory.

Your dad, just a teen boy, maybe eighteen, is inside, working on a large machine, it seems that he was really a muggle mechanic, since there were cars all around, dismantled or not.

"Stark." It is Agatha from the memories who says, and startles your father slightly, who almost drops the screwdriver. But when he looks up, he smiles.

"Professor Harkness!" He says getting up, and wiping the grease on his apron quickly before greeting her. "You really did it!"

"I told you I would come." She says, and you are surprised at the affectionate way she looks at your father, "Look at you, Howard, you're so grown up."

Your father laughs, bowing his head softly. "Thank you, professor."

"I only say that because I've known you since you were a child." She humorously clarifies. "And now you are even growing a mustache. Tell me, do muggle girls like that sort of thing?"

Your father laughs with flushed cheeks, and Agatha follows him. Before they can say anything, there are voices and the sound of footsteps approaching, and soon, two people enter.

Wanda chokes softly next to you. "Mama."

You also recognized Magda, because you have seen pictures before. She had the same appearance as in the photos, and you were saddened by this, because she must have died not so long after this memory.

Erik stood beside her, wearing muggles like the woman next to him.

"Professor Harkness, you made it!" He greets politely, hurrying to shake the witch's hand as she smiles. "It's so good to see you again! This is Magda, my wife."

"It's a pleasure, dear."

The memory speeds up, you want to fight Agatha for cutting off Wanda's moment of seeing her mother properly, but the way Wanda strokes her thumb against your hand makes you give up saying anything.

The scene settles down in what you think is the apartment at the top of the garage where they were, all around a table, drinking beers.

"You guys know why I came all this way, don't you?" Agatha says, and seems to have just had a short pause in the conversation, as if everyone had been laughing before and suddenly got quiet. And the tension only increases with her comment.

Her father sighs, nodding. "There is no daily prophet here, but I have met some travelers. They are talking about a war, Agatha." He says worriedly. "But I want to hear it from you. Do you really think that could happen?"

Agatha gives a humorless laugh. "It's already happening." She says, placing her beer on the table, and straightening her posture. "The minister of magic waited too long. And now, this group, these so-called death walkers, or whatever ridiculous name they are thinking of trying, are everywhere. In the ministry, in the diagonal alley, in the Order."

Your father looks really upset, but you notice how uncomfortable Erik looks.

"And do you really think that's what they're after, Agatha?" He asks. "War. Do you think that's what the walkers are after?"

The teacher raises her eyebrow slightly. "What else could it be, besides chaos and complete destruction of our society, Erik?"

His former teacher is unaffected by the snickering, he just gives a half-hearted laugh. " Well, freedom of course." He says, clearing his throat softly. "See, that time we've been here. New York is fascinating. Things are bad for muggles it's true, but for the rest of us, damn. The wizards are doing just fine. They have so much magic here, so much freedom to study what they want. The ministry encourages the discovery of new areas, gives financial support to researchers!"

Agatha crosses her legs, listening to Erik's speech carefully.

When he realizes that he may be defending Mephisto's group too much, he pauses, straightening up. "I'm just trying to say that maybe a change in the British government is exactly what our society needs to evolve, Agatha."

"You know, when Fury told me he wanted to recruit you boys to the order, I told him that children don't fight wars." She declares and you see the boys widen their eyes. "You two know that Katherine is dead, right? That Nick took over leadership of the order in his mother's place, and the first names he wanted were yours."

Your father nods, as does Erik.

"Well, I didn't agree." She says. "I said I knew other wizards, more experienced, more trustworthy. Wizards who didn't flee their homeland to live the American dream."

"That's not-" Your father begins but the look in Agatha's eyes makes him shut up.

"Nick insisted that I come here." She continues. "He said that you have kept in touch by correspondence, and that you continue to have the same, what was the word, moral inclination. But now I wonder if he was really right about that."

"I didn't mean to say that the walkers are right!" Erik exclaims defensively, looking embarrassed, but Agatha just smiles.

"Don't worry, honey." She says as she leans in. "I think that kind of moral difference is exactly what makes this whole conflict interesting."

"That's sadistic of you, Agatha." Howard comments seriously. "We're talking about a war."

"Don't be hypocritical now, Howey." She retorts with a wicked smile. "You think I don't know who the travelers you've been talking to are? Say, the magical trafficking laws are simpler in America, aren't they?"

Your father locks his jaw, but keeps his face up.

"I did what I needed to do to survive here." He says simply, and Agatha laughs.

"Of course you did." She says. "So did we all. And now we have a potential battle ahead of us, something that could change the course of wizarding life for future generations. Tell me, do you intend to stand here fixing machines and pretending that your friends are not dying for your freedom? And I thought you were tired of this kind of attitude, golden boy."

Your father stands up, enraged. But he says nothing, and swallows his pride. He gives Erik one last look before leaving the room.

Agatha sighs softly, turning her attention back to Erik, who has his fists clenched in his lap.

"You know very well that the situation is not so simple." He says and Agatha smiles.

"And you know it's him don't you?" She retorts and Erik clenches his jaw.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you know very well, Erik." Agatha insists. "When I fired him, he didn't stay in England. He came to America with his favorite student."

"Keep your voice down." Erik quickly retorts, looking back a moment before leaning forward. "It's not what you think."

"But I don't think anything." She says. "I'm exactly giving you the chance to explain yourself, before I draw my own conclusions."

Erik takes a deep breath, and turns to Magda, squeezing her hands.

"Honey, can you give us a minute?" He asks, and Wanda's mother looks like she's going to say no, before nodding.

She walks off in the same direction as her father, and then Erik and Agatha are alone.

"Professor Faustus has asked me for support, Agatha." He says. "He was out of a job, and with his name tainted with rumors that no one has proven. And he never treated us badly, so I helped him."

"You kept this from Howard? I thought you were best friends." Agatha teases but Erik laughs humorlessly.

"Of course not." He says. "Who do you think paid for the tickets?"

"Interesting." She says. "Why tickets?"

"Because he was being investigated for the dark magic rumors." Erik says. "The ministry put a blocker on him. Any magic he tried to do would go straight to the minister's notes. And well, he needed Howey's help to remove the device from behind his neck."

"While he was hiding, I imagine he told you about his wonderful ideas."

"No, Agatha." He says. "Faustus just looked tired. And he felt betrayed, mostly by you. But in general, he complained, and studied. Howey and I would work all day, and he would stay in his room, among the magic books, unable to conjure anything, not even a light spell. I've never seen him so frustrated."

"I'd feel sorry for him, if that wasn't his fault." Agatha murmurs and Erik sighs in agreement.

"A few months after we arrived, Howey got it." Erik recounts. "Tivan gave him the materials he needed, and he freed Faustus from the blocking device in his skin. He thanked us, said he'd write, and then disappeared. We never heard from him again, but the letters from Fury started coming in the next months."

"Did Howard suspect?"

"No." Erik says squirming uncomfortably in his chair. "Howard trusted him, mostly because of the way he stood up for him in school. About supporting him to study mechanics, even if no one else would. But I knew I had to be smart after what happened with Raven."

"He tried to recruit you?"

Erik sighs. "No, Agatha. But he will."

"I know." She says. "That's why I came."

" I should have guessed that you don't make friendly visits, even to your best students."

Agatha laughs softly, leaning her arm on the carpet. "You think just because you can conjure a patronus you're my best student, Erik? I helped establish the order of merlin. You are not even remotely the most talented wizard I have taught."

"You are hurting my feelings." The man jokes, making the other woman smile.

"How will this work then, Erik?" She asks. "Are you going to accept Fury's offer? Or will you follow your heart?"

The man smiles, standing up. "That just concerns me, and my wife, don't you think?"

"Actually, no." Agatha retorts without sounding angry as Erik moves to collect the beer bottles and put them in the trash. "In fact, I think you even need to leave her."

Erik laughs in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"A muggle, Erik." She says as if it's obvious. "You're going to drag her into a war? That's cruel."

"Magda is stronger than you imagine."

"I'm sure she is." The witch says getting up as well. "But that is until she is hit by the first spell."

“Agatha, please.”

“Muggles can't handle magic like we can, Erik." She insists seriously. "You know that. A simple stupefy could kill her."

"I love her." He says turning away. "And I'm not going to England without her. If she decides to stay, then I will too."

"That's disappointing." Agatha comments, but Erik doesn't flinch, crossing his arms. The witch sighs. "Then do me a favor. Howard, at least he, needs to go. We can't afford to lose allies."

"I'll talk to him." Erik assures. "But you know that with all that his father has done, he doesn't want to go back to London anytime soon."

"This is so much bigger than a family feud." Agatha retorts. "Tell him that, and he'll feel guilty enough to accept it."

"Your mind games are wicked, professor." Erik says before nodding in agreement, leaving.

Agatha sighs, getting pensive.

Just then Magda walks back into the room.

"Miss Harkness?"

"Hello, dear."

"I just came to ask if you're going already? Erik looked upset, but I can walk you to the door. It's good manners."

The memory shakes until they are outside, and Magda leads her to the same place she should have appeared before.

"Please, before you go, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, sweetie."

Magda hesitates, but takes a deep breath and says. "If Erik stays, what are the chances of this war reaching us?"

Agatha looks at the woman for a moment. "I don't think there is a way to escape what is happening in England, Magda. And if we lose, it's not just the witches who will suffer the consequences."

Magda nods in understanding, then steps forward. "Tell me how I can help you."

"He wouldn't approve, but I can't watch everything fall apart around us. Tell me how I can help."

Agatha smiles, touching Magda's shoulder. You hold your breath, as does Wanda, who also notices the magic in the witch's fingertips, and the purple color in her eyes.

"Leave him, dear." She says. "But it needs to be natural, okay? As best as I can, he must not suspect it was my idea. Erik would never put you in danger, but he wouldn't leave you alone either. So you need to end it all."

Magda has tears in her eyes, but she just nods mechanically. And the memory becomes blurred.

Wanda is tense beside her, and you are silent.

"That doesn't make sense." You mutter. "Carol told me that Magda was in Sokovia, and that-"

"She's not my mother, is she?" Wanda cuts you off, looking at the floor. The real Agatha sighs, as you look at the two in confusion.

"How could you tell?" She asks.

"I don't have her eyes."

It was a funny detail about the few pictures of Magda that Erik had in the Maximoff house. All the pictures were old, because they were from muggles. And they were never sharp enough in detail, just good enough for you to be able to recognize the woman in the recollection.

Agatha laughs softly. "Is that all Erik told you about your mother? That you had her eyes?"

Wanda squeezes your hand, and with the other she wipes her cheek.

"Just show me the truth at once, Agatha."

"As you wish."

//-//-//

You stumble gently as you get used to the dirt floor that has stabilized at your feet.

"Are you okay?" You whisper to Wanda, but she just nods, smiling weakly before looking back at the memory forming in your eyes.

You were startled by the bright lights in the sky, recognizing them immediately as wandering spells.

Someone just fought here, and it was no small fight.

"Agatha!" Erik shouted, approaching quickly, coming from the corner as if he had been hiding until now, and the teacher had emerged.

Wanda also held her breath as she noticed the large cut on his forehead, the blood dripping down his face.

"T-They've surrounded us..." He says breathlessly, his wand in fists as he stumbles to get closer. "We narrowly won and-"

"Calm down boy." Agatha says as she holds his shoulders, working quickly to heal his wounds. "Where are the others?"

"Further away." Erik replied visuvelmettely exhausted. You could tell he was a little older than the last memory, but he was still young. "Back to the mansion.

"Good, they' ll be safe there." She says as she helps Erik stand properly. "Where's Natalya?"

And Erik chokes, sobbing. You frown in confusion, and Agatha makes a pitying face.

"Oh, Erik."

He cried, shrugging. "She was.... She tried to gain ground. She hit four of them at once. But... But she-"

And he sobbed, and Agatha didn't insist, hugging him.

"I'm sorry, Erik." She whispered.

And the memory trembled until they were back on the mansion's dirt path, almost at the iron driveway, the man visibly calmer, though quite shaken.

"Erik, what about the children?" Agatha asks as she stops walking in front at the gate.

The man looks on the verge of tears again, but only sighs.

"I have no idea, Agatha." He says. "No place is safe in the UK anymore. I can't leave the order to look after them, I don't know what to do."

And Agatha looks at him a moment, before nodding. "I will help you."

You see many flashbacks of memories, Agatha greeting injured order members, then going back to write letters, and checking the news. You think you see flashes of fights too, big duels, before everything stabilizes again.

It's Magda in front of you, and she looks more mature too.

"Years ago, you asked me how I could help you." Agatha spoke behind you, and you startled yourself by jumping to the side, and watching intently as the witch touched Magda's hands. "You saved yourself by leaving him. But you will save his life and the rest of the wizarding world if you accept what I am about to ask of you."

Magda's eyes widened, but she nodded after a moment. Agatha waved her hands, and a cart approached you.

"Run away, Magda." She says. "Their mother had a house, enchanted to protect from invaders on a hill in a small country in Europe." Agatha explains as Magda lets out a surprised exclamation at the babies in the stroller.

"They... are beautiful." She whispers excitedly, touching the children with her fingers, who fall asleep innocently. "What happened, Agatha? Where is Erik?"

"The fight just got bigger, hon." She explains. "Much bigger than we ever expected. Your people are suffering too, but they're saying it's natural disasters."

Magda is shocked, but she speaks again. "Agatha, I am not a witch. I can't protect them."

"That's exactly why you can." Agatha retorts, taking the other woman's hands again. "Go to Sokovia. There are no witch communities there. Hide yourself, hide them. You have no idea how important it is to keep them safe."

"Tell me, then."

Agatha swallows dryly, and looks away from the babies. "It's only a legend, but it could change the fate of this war. The girl, Magda, is a powerful witch. A special kind, like her mother was."

"My god, she's just a child, Agatha."

"That's exactly why she needs to be protected." The witch retorts. " She' s fragile, like a crystal to be stolen. She must not be found, promise me you will protect her."

"I promise." She says nodding, but Agatha sighs, and her eyes turn purple, her grip increases.

"No matter what happens, Magda." She says. "You will protect them, do you understand?"

"Yes."

The memory shakes again, and this time, your father is in front of you, and you hold your breath, shocked to see him so close so suddenly.

“You’re a snake!” He accused angrly, but without any movement, his eyes were serious with his arms crossed.

You turn to realize he was talking to Agatha, in a room that had no windows.

“I was keeping them safe, Howard.” The woman said. “I don’t expect you to understand the feeling of desperation, because you have an armored mansion at your will.”

“You used Erik’s grief to manipulate him into believing in you!” He shouted. “I’m not asking you again, where are his children?”

Agatha laughs softly, looking at your father indignantly.

"Are you listening to yourself, Howey?" she teases. "Erik switched sides, accept that."

"Nat died on our side." He retorts. "She was my friend, my ally. And she trusted us to protect the twins, you had no right to hide them!"

"They are safe!" Agatha retorts, and looks at the man with a warning expression. "And I suggest you stop making such a scandal about it, Howard! You don't want Mephisto to find out about the girl's true nature. We're close enough to defeat already."

"This isn't about that stupid legend-"

"Isn't it?" Agatha interrupts with irony. "Then why only now? It's been weeks since I took them. I know exactly what you want with the twins, Howard. You want to see if it's true, if they really can change the war." She says approaching. "I will clear that up for you then, since you clearly have no knowledge at all on the subject. A scarlet witch is worthless until she reaches maturity. If you try to take the magic from the baby, you'll just get a victim. And I won't allow that to happen."

"I wasn't going to steal the child's magic, Agatha. Who do you think I am?"

"I don't give a damn who you say you are now, Stark." She retorts."Not to you, nor to Erik, who can't make up his mind whose side he's on."

Agatha moves to leave, clearly ending the conversation. But before she leaves, your father calls out to her.

"Why are you so committed to protecting them, Agatha?" He asks.

"Natalya was my family before she was an Auror, Howard."

As Agatha leaves, the memory fades, but you and Wanda are wide-eyed, confused by the latest revision.

And the ground is shaking at your feet, and you are being pulled back into consciousness.

//-/-//-//-//

You awaken last, stretching confusedly away from the tree you had leaned against as you sat on the ground to begin viewing the memories watched with the other women.

Wanda is already getting up, to find Agatha standing peacefully looking at the mountainous landscape ahead.

"So, what are you?" she asks the older witch.

Agatha sighs softly, without looking at Wanda.

"Natalya Maximoff was born in Romania, during the witch revolution in the country." She begins nostalgically, a short smile at the corner of her lips. "I found her shaking like a leaf, less than twelve weeks old inside a box of potatoes."

You are shocked, as is Wanda, but you just listen.

"I think her mother tried to hide her. But she got caught in the middle of it. Romania was in chaos at the time, it was a real bloodbath. "She says. "I was there to fight. The English ministry provided special witches to take on a wizard, known as Kang the Conqueror."

Agatha gives a humorless laugh, sounding upset.

"If you think Faustus is bad, it's because you've never met him." She counters. "He was a master nocramanter. He created an army of the living dead, the inferi. It was the worst fight I've ever been in. But we won, and he was killed. For real this time."

Agatha looked away from the landscape to look at Wanda.

"I bonded with the child, Miss Maximoff." She says. "I could have left her in that box, and gone on my way. But I took her in my arms, and only let her go when she was mature enough for that."

"And then?" Wanda asked with emotion in her voice, looking at Agatha with tears in her eyes.

"I found out that she was a scarlet sorceress, but unlike you, she never completed her forging." The witch says sadly. "She died at the age of 20, a year before she was going to do the spell."

Wanda looks down at her feet, crossing her arms as she absorbs the whole story. Agatha thinks this is a good opportunity to keep talking.

"The war was already over when I found Natalya." She says. "The village where I believe she was born had been destroyed in a shambles. And they put her in the box, while the British aurors were doing the stakeouts. I took her with me, I didn't tell anyone." She recounts. "When she turned eleven, I found out what she was. I taught her everything I could, but I didn't let her go to Hogwarts. I kept her at home, where she wouldn't put the students or herself in danger."

You bite the inside of your cheek, surprised that Agatha was able to hide a daughter. But honestly, it wasn't that shocking.

"When she turned 16, she started rebelling, you know how teenagers are." She says. "She left because she didn't agree with the way I saw the world. And I said I would be waiting for her to come back when she realized that only I could help her."

"But she didn't come back." Wanda completed and Agatha sighed, nodding.

"No, of course not," she says. "She moved to a muggle province, and built a house. And ran away from her fate until her power got too overwhelming."

"Did you look for her?" You ask, and Agatha nods in agreement, turning her gaze to the landscape.

"With the war, I wanted allies." She says. "And I really thought I could get to the house of the daughter I hadn't spoken to in years to ask her to fight for me."

"But she accepted, didn't she?" Wanda says and Agatha sighs.

"On her terms, yes." Answered the woman. "Your mother was a smart girl, Wanda. She made me swear under the best intentions."

And it takes a moment for Wanda to understand what was really being said.

"How?"

Agatha sighs, turning to you again. "I took a perpetual vow to do what was right. What would save lives, what she considered right." She explains. "But contract magic is so encompassing. Especially when you say ambiguous phrases like do the right thing, or stuff like that. That's why I was able to get around the spell so many times. That's why it shaped itself with her death."

"That's why you can't hurt Wanda." You conclude in a sigh.

Agatha nods. "The power of the Scarlet Sorceress has always been tempting. But I would never steal it from Natalya, she was my daughter." She says. "But you were just a student. And I wouldn't mind taking that responsibility out of your hands."

"Not even if I was her daughter?" Wanda asks in a mixture of disgust and indignation, but Agatha only gives a humorless laugh.

"Don't judge me so much." She retorts. "If I didn't care, you wouldn't even be alive. Least of all your girlfriend."

But Wanda steps away, putting herself in front of you.

"You didn't do this because you care." She accuses. "You did it because of the vow. Because you will die if you don't keep your words to her."

"Maybe." She says,shrugging. "But what matters is my actions, not motivations. Actions are all that matter in the end."

"I'm sick of this, Agatha." Wanda retorts indignantly. "You think you can say some philosophical shit and get rid of the things you've done? You manipulated my entire family, and you played with my destiny. I'd rather be alone than around you."

Wanda walks off at a brisk pace, and you follow her, not knowing exactly what to do.

Agatha clenches her jaw, refusing to turn around and apologize.

Wanda begins to pack up very quickly, and you stare wide-eyed as she puts Godric's sword into her purse.

And soon you are outside.

"I told you I wouldn't forgive you if you crossed another line with me." She says. "But I realized that there's nothing more you can do besides all the bad things you've already done."

"If you expect me to apologize for keeping you alive so far, you are deluding yourself." Agatha retorts stubbornly, her arms crossed.

Wanda gives a humorless laugh, her hand interlacing hers. "I don't expect anything from you, Agatha. Even if you think it's the right thing to do, stay away from me. And especially from her."

"As you wish, Miss Maximoff."

You notice the tears in the older witch's eyes before she looks the other way. Wanda turns her face to you next.

“Think of a safe place.” She asks in a whisper, and you nod. It takes a second before everything spins around.

//-//-//-//-//

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[bump1nthen1ght]

I’m Still Hurting (F!Reader/M!Orc)

Pairings: Fem!Reader/Male!Orc

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Angst

Warnings: (Almost) Infidelity

Word Count: 3376 words

Summary: Your boyfriend does something he’d never thought he’d do, and you’re left to try and pick up the pieces.

Request: can I make a request? About an angst story between an m!orc and f!human. I like the idea of like maybe the orc sorta misses being with other orc women or like she can't fulfill his needs and she hears this. I like the idea of almost infidelity

A/N: Surprise bitches! I’m alive! And back with some delicious angst for y’all!! I really loved doing this request, as I don’t often write full on angst. I am also working on a fluffy request  at the moment, if some of you would like some nice comfort after this haha. Hope y’all enjoy!

Honey ❤️: Babe

Honey ❤️: Babe please answer the phone I need to talk to you

Honey ❤️: I know you’re angry, you should be angry, but please talk to me

Honey ❤️: Baby please

“____? Is that my phone?” Brynn yells from the kitchen, already mixing another cocktail for you to down. Her bright red horns peek over the living room divider, bouncing back as she grabs the alcohol from the fridge. Still looking at your bright screen, you don’t even have the energy to respond.

“____?” You throw your phone away as she peaks her head over, giving her a shameful look. Brynn furrows her brow, pulling away from the kitchen island and putting one hand on her hip. “Was that him?” With your eyes darting back and forth from the pillow you shoved your phone under and Brynn’s face, you nod.

“Y-yeah, it was him.”

Brynn sighs, fiddling with her hands.

“Listen, I don’t want to tell you what to do, especially not tonight, but I just think-”

“No, no, it’s alright. You’re right, you’re right.” A jolt hits you as your phone vibrates, the vibrations rumbling through the fabric and stabbing right into your stomach. You force yourself to look away, fiddling with your fingers. Brynn shoots you a pitiful look, you’re sure of it, even as your efuse to meet her gaze. “I shouldn’t talk to him tonight. Not right now, not when I’m like….this.” A slow, tired breath escapes you. “I’ll make him wait, just like he did.”

The coach cushion bends as Brynn sits next to you, rubbing your shoulder as she leans in for a side each. You accept it, your body like a deadweight as you let yourself go slack in her arms.

“Do you want anything? Chocolate, maybe a movie? I’ve got some leftover cheesecake?”

“A movie sounds nice.” You murmur, nodding against her chest. Brynn hums, her tail coming up and massaging your lower back as she kisses you on the forward.

“Of course, your choice. Do you want me to get your drink?”

You nod once more, letting Brynn untangle herself from the hug and laying back on the couch, grabbing the comfiest blanket and the remote. You quickly flick through you and Brynn’s ‘most watched’ section on Netflix. You need something new tonight, something to get your mind off.

All your regular comfort movies are romances, after all.

By the time Brynn comes back, a rum and coke and a carton of ice cream in hand, you’re already snuggled into a blanket burrito. She hands you a spoon and the glass, which you wordlessly accept. She sits down and throws a hand over your shoulder, trying her best to massage the left over tension in your neck. You sink into the feeling, pressing on your movie of choice.

“Mad Max: Fury Road, huh? I’ve heard this movie’s great.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, “It is.”

And chocked full of shitty men getting what they deserve.

As the opening title plays, the deep voice of Tom Hardy kicking the movie off, you snuggle into Brynn’s side. Your phone buzzes again, but it’s drowned out by screaming men and loud engines. Just how you like it.

Honey ❤️: Could you call me in the morning?

Honey ❤️: I’ll leave you alone for the night, I’m sorry

Honey ❤️: I love you

--------

Waruck sighs, his fingers shaking as another small ‘message delivered’ shows up on his screen. No response, just like the last 15 texts. He finds himself typing out another anyway.

I love you so fucking much

It reads, but is quickly deleted. Waruck clicks off his phone, but it stays in his hand, taunting him. The black mirror shows a sad, pathetic boyfriend, getting the silent treatment.

He falls back onto his bed, exhausted from a day of doing nothing. Nothing but worrying and feeling guilty, with the occasional flicking through TV channels and texting his girlfriend.

It’s getting late, his bedside clock cutting through the dark of his room to remind him he’s been up for almost 16 hours now. Waruck slides a hand through his hair and gets up. He’s going to have to camp out in front of the TV, because he knows he won’t be able to sleep tonight.

Not after what he did.

--------

He had gone out with friends. Friends from highschool who he still occasionally chatted with, friends he didn’t even really like anymore. But the past two weeks had him feeling oddly...nostalgic, like something was out of place. So when his buddy Simon had invited him to the bar, he had eagerly accepted.

He remembers grabbing his coat, you sending him a text to have fun, and him not replying. He didn’t know why he didn’t respond, he still doesn’t. The two of you had been going strong for almost 8 months now, with only the occasional hiccup that most couples have. So why didn’t he respond? What made him casually throw your sweet remark to the side like that?

Waruck shakes his head, trying to focus on the movie in front of him. Now isn’t the time to get existential over tiny shit like that, not with how the rest of the night went.

When he met up with the group, Waruck immediately knew that tonight was going to be different. His current group of friends are quite different, less rowdy, than his old posse. At only 10 PM, three of the guys we’re already halfway drunk, saving a spot in line from him outside the noisy bar. The electronic music that thrummed through the concrete and out onto the street reminded him of how much time has passed, how different his usual party-scene is now, and he revels in that feeling of former good-times.

Simon greets him with a hug, the guys shouting his name as he joins them. From the corner of his eye, he sees a gaggle of girls giggling.

And that's where it started.

An orc woman, dressed in a beautiful black dress, winks as she passes him at the bar. Simon nudges his side as Waruck takes a drink.

“Dude, that chick is totally sending you the look”

Waruck furrows his brow, stirring his drink.

“What’s ‘the look’?” He says, taking another sip of his scotch.

Simon rolls his eyes. “The ‘come hit on me’ look dude! That’s the sign you need to go for it!”

“I have a girlfriend, Simon.”

Simon scoffs, throwing his hand out dramatically. “What, that human chick?”

Waruck has half of mind to set down his drink and ask Simon what he means with that sarcastic tone of voice. It pisses him off, but he says nothing, just rolls his eyes.

“No offense, bro, she looks cute and all. But is she really worth missing out on some great ass?”

Waruck grimaces and shoots Simon a dirty look. “Jesus, Simon, are you serious?”

“I’m serious! When was the last time you had fun, y’know? Everyone knows an orc chick can throw down, wild-style.” Simon nudges him in his side, playfully, but it only serves to make Waruck more annoyed. “C’mon, you seriously don’t miss it?”

Waruck should tell him a firm ‘No’, finish his drink, and leave. He should call a cab and go home, call you and rant about his gross misogynistic friend from high school.

But he doesn’t.

The part of him, the part of him that feels slightly off, wonders if this is it. It had been a long time since he had been with another orc. You were a great girlfriend, but so different from in so many ways. Is that it?

Maybe relieving the old days will satisfy whatever longing he has, and then it will leave forever. Would that be so bad, to let loose for one night?

Waruck feels a tap on his shoulder, and turns to see the orc girl from earlier; The one who sent him ‘the look’.

“Hey handsome, can I buy you a drink?”

Between the boosted bass of the music and the orc woman pressing up against him, Waruck doesn’t notice Simon slip away, giving him a pat on the back.

Leave, say no, tell her she’s got the wrong guy, you fucking idiot. His consciousness yells.

“U-uh, sure.” He stutters.

She introduces herself as Naz and says she noticed him the minute he walked in.

“Hard not to notice the best-dressed guy in the room.” She flirts, pressing herself closer and up against him.

He has a thousand little moments like that, to say something; To pull back and apologize, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he slips into a corner booth with her, purposely ignoring the texts you send to check up on him. You had remembered that he wasn’t sure how much fun this night would be, and routinely checked in if he needed a convenient excuse to leave early. You’re sweet like that.

Naz is sweet too. She's a great conversationalist, with a good head on her shoulders and an interesting career in zoology. Waruck could see the two of you being good friends.

Is that why she seems so alluring? Because she’s so similar to you? Waruck’s mind does mental gymnastics to try and justify his hesitance, his compliance in believing that maybe she has something different after all, even though he knows that isn’t true.

The two of them talk for a solid hour and a half, Naz slowly inching herself closer and putting a hand on his knee. His body screams in resistance, his stomach tying up into knots, but he doesn’t push her away.

“So, I’ve got a room not too far from here. What do you say we go make ourselves a bit more comfortable?”

This is his final chance to find an excuse and say goodnight. To run back home and forget this ever happened. But the words are caught in his throat and he’s further silenced by the nearby whooping of his asshole friends.

“Yeah, Waruck! Get some!”

Naz chuckles and mistakenly reads his seething anger at himself with embarrassment for his friends. She leans in, grabbing his jaw, and whispers.

“Let's give them a show, huh?” Then, she kisses him.

The noises of the bar, his friends, and Naz all drown away as her lips mold into his. Waruck’s body goes rigid, terrified as time seems to freeze as he kisses someone who is not his girlfriend.

But all of that stops when your ringtone begins to blast in his pocket. It should be near silent when compared to the pounding bar music, but that familiar jingle seems to cut deep into his skin and skewer his heart. Waruck pulls away with a quick jerk, Naz almost falling over as he pushes himself into his seat and away from her body-heat. Every nerve is a light with tension as he quickly pulls out his phone.

There on the screen is a picture of you, your contact name, “Sweetie❤️”, shining through the dimmed light of that bar. Waruck breathes heavily, feeling like he’s just run an emotional marathon, stuck in his own head until Naz slides away from him.

“Wait, hold on, do you have a girlfriend?”

Waruck looks at her, then looks at his still-ringing phone, then back to Naz. He nods.

Naz's face curls up into obvious disgust, quickly directing her body to be as far away from him as possible. “Fucking hell, dude. What the fuck?” She grabs her handbag and stomps out of the booth, not before throwing her drink in his face and telling him to go to hell.

He almost watches her move across the bar, most likely to go complain to her friends about the asshole she just wasted the last 2 hours chatting up, but all he can focus on is your picture on his phone.

--------

Waruck practically runs out of the bar, his whole body covered in sweat and his mind racing a mile a minute.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He felt like a 15 year old, goaded into another shitty prank just because he wanted to look cool in front of his friends, buying into their weird bullshit about humans. Was he seriously going to throw away your wonderful relationship over one night, over one urge?

Naz had been strikingly beautiful, in all the ways he was taught an orc like himself should look for. She could probably get any guy in that club tonight, but she wasn’t you. You’re different, but in so many cool, inconsequential, uniquely-you ways.

Waruck doesn’t know how long he walks before he sits down outside a cafe, trying to collect his racing emotions. He feels gross, sticky with the kind of sweat you only get after too much alcohol and too many people. The screen of his phone seems to reflect every smudge and finger-print as he swipes it to unlock it, finally getting the courage to read your text messages.

They start off normal, spread out over several hours. The occasional “How are the guys?” and “Hope you are having fun! Just let me know when you get home safe.” before dropping off into nothing. Right up until 20 minutes ago, where you send a short and curt text that has his heart dropping to his stomach.

Sweetie❤️: Can you call me right now?

Sweetie❤️: Waruck, I need to talk to you

Sweetie❤️: Are you still at the bar?

After that is a notification of your missed call from earlier and Waruck can’t help but feel  guilt stir in his gut.

It could be nothing, something unrelated to what he almost did tonight. But the notification he gets from his Instagram says otherwise. It says a mutual of his tagged him in a photo 30 minutes ago.

Waruck feels like vomiting when he opens up Simon’s story and sees a shaky picture of Naz, draped over him in the corner booth, with him looking all too happy to have her there. The caption reads

“At least someone’s getting lucky tonight 🤣🤣 #BoysNight20XX”

But what comes next is even worse; An even blurrier photo of Naz kissing him, both of their eyes closed as she almost sits in his lap.

Waruck can’t even look at the caption, quickly exiting out of the app and calling you.

He needs to explain himself.

But what will he say?

The phone rings, rings, rings….

Waruck waits with bated breath, thinking you’re going to let it go to voicemail, but you answer. There is no cheerful “Hi Babe” or even a tired and drawn-out “Hey.” Instead all Waruck hears is a shaky sigh, waiting for an explanation.

The words stay caught in Warucks throat, trying to find a way to maneuver and swing around to a solid excuse, a lie he hopes you won’t catch.

But he can’t, he can’t. Not to you.

So you make it easy for him, like you always do, and start the conversation off instead.

“Were you flirting with that girl?”

Waruck’s mind doesn’t give him a choice, the truth already spilling out like a tidal wave.

“Yes.”

Waruck hears you suck in a breath, before you shakily ask once more,

“Did you kiss her? Did you kiss her back?”

“Yes.”

There's 15 seconds of brutal silence as Waruck sits with his confession. In the moment, Waruck feels like he can hear your pounding heartbeat through the receiver.

You hang up.

---------

You hate the weather outside for two reasons.

One: You had far too much rum last night to enjoy any amount of sunlight. And,

Two: On a terrible morning like this one, it feels unfair that there aren't any dramatic thunder storms.

The bell rings on the cafe door as you walk in, causing you to wince as you pull down your sunglasses.

Thank god for the low lighting of these cafes.

You rub your brow, eyes scanning the menu above the bar. Some caffeine should do you good, at least with your headache.

But when you spot him, tucked away at a table, tapping his foot, all that aching pain seems to fall to your subconscious. Before you can meet eyes, you look away, forcing yourself to re-read the menu and blink away your tears.

You face the inevitable when you put in your order, turning to walk towards Waruck. He’s locked his gaze into the wood grain of the table, his large body hunched up and small, like he wants to sink into the shadows. He looks like shit, with large bags under his eyes and a nervous tension in his face.

He startles when you pull out a chair, sitting down across from him, but quickly curls back into his ball of shame. He looks so guilty, a small part of you wants to comfort him and tell him it’ll be alright.

You punch away that part of you with a baseball bat.

“Why did you flirt with her?”

Waruck says nothing. He looks at you with his tired eyes, big and racked with guilt.

I don’t know. They whisper.

Your fingers dig into your jeans, anger boiling up and through your nerves.

That’s not a good enough answer.

“Were you,” You suck in a breath, trying to control your volume, “Were you going to sleep with her? If I hadn’t called you, would you have-”

“No!” Waruck nearly shouts, shaking the table as his knees bang against the bottom, but he recoils once he sees the way you flinch. “No, I wasn’t going to.”

Those pesky tears press against your eyelids once more. You can feel your nails digging indents into your thighs.

“I don’t know if  I can believe that.” You whisper, failing to catch the crack in your voice.

Waruck’s brow furrows as he nervously chews his bottom lip. He tries to meet your gaze, but you seem to look right through him.

“I know.” Waruck sighs, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

There's a tenuous silence; Waruck tries to find the words to fix things  while you focus on the details of the cafe walls, examining every nook and cranny as you try not to sob.

“I-I understand if you don’t trust me. I understand if you hate me, or you want to break up. But please, please know that I love you, and that I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I’ve been kicking myself over flirting with that girl because I love you so fucking much. I-”

You hold up your hand, stopping Waruck in his tracks. He realizes how loud he’s been talking and that people are beginning to stare. He huddles back into his corner, tucking his hands into his lap. You let out a long breath. Waruck takes the risk and looks up.

When his eyes finally meet yours, he realizes just how sad you look. A treacherous tear has begun falling down your cheek, sending a lightning bolt of remorse into Waruck’s chest.

You take in another deep breath, wiping away the tear with the back of your hand. You look at Waruck, exhausted.

“I don’t,”  You falter, but catch yourself, “I don’t want to break up with you. I just don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you yet.”

Waruck nods, fiddling with his fingers.

“Of course, I get it-”

“I’m not done.” Waruck quickly shuts his mouth. “You hurt me, Waruck. Hurt me in a way I don’t think I’ll ever forget. So I need time. Time before I can even see you again without thinking,” You hiccup, but this time you let the wave of emotion hit you, full force.  “Without thinking about that night.”

A lady calls out your order, but neither of you makes a move. You sit in each other's presence, trying to wrap yourselves around the mess of emotions, trying to read the others mind without seeming too obvious.

You both sit here, in the presence of something that's been broken, damaged in a way that’s cut the heart of your chest and slams them on the table. There’s a crack that runs down between you two, inching open more and more with each breath.

But somehow, somehow, you both think you have a chance of fixing it.

[saturnsummer]

worthy.

When Sol gets a GPA of 2.02, the study group (and Joon Hwi) comes together to cheer her up. 

notes: another prompt by @thenerdywriter ! i wasn't sure if you meant it like this, but i hope you are satisfied! thank you for your prompt and your trust! i do apologise for the wait!

not much fluff or cliche romantic scenes, but just simple things that i hope when you read, remember your worth and never be defeated. you are worthy, loved and deserving to be appreciated. :) inbox always open!

for anyone who have sent prompts and asks, i thank you for your ideas! i have read through all your asks and am so excited to begin writing, but please understand if i can’t reply you as fast as i hoped! so sorry for this, i’ll try to address my inbox faster!! any mistakes or incorrect information will be taken responsible by me. enjoy!

edit: everyone, please don’t cry on this omg I’ve made 5 people comment their tears now and im terribly sorry for the tears.. I meant for this to be a light hearted story but looks like everyone is crying,, I’ll try not to make people cry now..

original prompt: where joon hwi and the rest of the gang shake some sense into her (sol a) about her self-esteem. 

words: 2787 words

Sol is downstairs at the lounge, holding a clear bottle of soju. She takes another swig from the plastic bottle, hoping that the alcohol can numb her heart like it does to her head. It burns, and she’s turning woozy, but she grumbles and takes another swig. 

2.02. She’s passed, at least. But she can’t help but feel upset. She wasn’t upset that she couldn’t score as well as Yeseul or BokGi, but upset that she’s satisfied with these low results. No one is going to hire her, even less offer an internship while looking at her track records. 

Sol worked her ass off for this exam. She nearly died, if it wasn’t for Yeseul’s reminders to eat. Even her cold stoned face roommate bothered to place bottles of water on her desk. Yet, after all this... 

“Why are you still up?” She hears Joon Hwi ask as he takes a seat next to her. She stays silent with a grim expression and turns away. Joon Hwi was the last person she wanted to see, especially when she’s in such a bad mod. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks as he catches her arm just as she’s about to chug her soju. 

“Everything.” She slurs. “You know I’m not even upset with my GPA? I’m upset of being happy with my shitty grades.” Joon Hwi sighs, attempting to grab her bottle away.

“I should have never came to study. I should have never tried to prove myself to be Dan!” She scolds louder. Sol knows she’s drunk in front of her best friend, but she can’t control herself. She doesn’t care. 

“Kang Sol...” Joon Hwi stands up, grabbing her bottle away from her. “You’re drunk. Go back.” 

“I don’t belong here, anyway.” Her slurs catch Joon Hwi in his steps. 

“I never once belonged with any of you. Being with all of you just drags you all further. I should just stop burdening you all with my questions and rot in a corner. Besides, no one would care.” She softly says, her voice filled with regret and guilt. 

Sol has always felt this way. Ever since she was young, Dan was always the star child. She got top grades while Sol got through in the middle rankings. Dan was always more popular, prettier, smarter. Sol learnt at a young age that no matter what, she would always be overshadowed by Dan. 

Thus, she learnt to be quiet. Only ask questions when she really needs to. Stick to familiar people. Only be loud when told to, and blend in in every situation. She learnt to depreciate herself, because no one appreciated her in the first place. 

Joon Hwi wants to shake her. He wants to write an entire dissertation on why Sol belongs to Hankuk. He wants to show her what he sees: a smart, caring, passionate lawyer-to-be. He wants to show her what he sees when she testified for Professor Yang in court. A confident, woman knowing her morals and rights.

“Kang Sol.” Joon Hwi says, pulling her up by her wrist. Sol pushes him away, but her touches are sloppy and weak. Sighing, Joon Hwi knows that it is useless to argue about her grades and her worth when she’s not even half conscious of what she’s doing. 

He grabs her coat lying on the couch, finding her phone and plans on calling Yeseul. But it’s past 1am, but he doesn’t want to trouble Yeseul. Sighing, he contemplates calling her roomie but reality smacks when he realises she’s home. Noticing how Sol is slowly nodding off, giving in to the fatigue, it leaves Joon Hwi not much of an option to carry her back.

Fishing the room key out from her coat, he takes special care in carrying her, sweeping his arm under her knee and lifting her slowly as to not disrupt her from falling asleep. The key card is in between his fingers as he slowly and quietly makes his way up to her dorm. He thanks the deities above that no one caught him or interrupted him. 

Tapping the key card, a standard ‘beep’, he pushes the door with his back, and takes care to get him and her into the dark room. He can barely see anything, especially since he has no hands to on the lights, but he makes out his way in the small room using the moonlight and what he can tell. 

Joon Hwi knows which side Sol sleeps, knowing from her stories that include her rolling from the bed up to the desk. By now, Sol was sleeping soundly, a slight snore escaping her. Gently, he sets her down on her bed and reaches to take her shoes off for her. Hanging up her coat that he placed on top of her whilst he was carrying her, he finally pulled the thick blanket over her.

But he didn’t leave just yet.

“I never once belonged with any of you.”

Sol’s words echoed in his head more than he thought it would. He stopped and bent down silently by her bed side, taking a few moments to wonder to himself just how and why does she feel so unworthy.

He grabs her bottle of water from her bag, before putting it next to her phone, which is on the table. Knelt on the floor, he observes the slow rise of her chest and the way her eyes flutter and nose twitch when Sol sleeps. Just how can someone like Sol think she’s any less than what he sees?

“You belong here in Hankuk. I’ll show you just why.” His whisper barely audible, as he brushes away a stray hair on her face. With that, he takes his leave and sneaks back to his dorm. (Without getting caught)

-----

The next day, after two painkillers and a big bowl of hangover soup (left mysteriously by someone at their pantry), Sol is headed to study group. She is running a few minutes early than their scheduled timing, but she’s surprised to find the group huddled in hushed whispers. 

“What are you all looking at?” Sol asks, as she sets her book at her usual corner opposite Joon Hwi. BokGi lets out a startled yelp and Yebeom clamps his mouth shut. Sol isn’t surprised to see Jiho crowded there, but is even more shocked to see Sol B crowded with them too. If it was anything, Sol B wouldn’t crowd around and discuss things, unless it concerned herself, or benefitted her grades.

“What...” Sol leans over and raises her eyebrows. Yeseul’s eyes dart nervously and she breaks into a smile. The rest of the group just shuffles back to their seats murmuring under their breath.

“Nothing, unnie! They were just discussing on what to order for lunch.” Yeseul says as she walks over to Sol and takes her bag and books from her, before setting it on the table. “Unnie, shall we get coffees?” Yeseul escorts her out of the room before Sol could react. Sol assumes that it’s due to her hangover that Yeseul is suggesting coffee, thus just following and getting a cold brew and assorted drinks for the others. 

When she returns, they distribute the drinks and start discussing on what to study. 

“Noona, do you have anything?” BokGi asks, a little too enthusiastically. Sol is taken aback and lost for words. She usually just follows whatever the rest want, since answering her questions will take hours. Joon Hwi gives a sympathetic smile. 

“How about you share with us about a recent case? Remember the one that Professor Kim liked in particular?” Joon Hwi suggests. Sol grows quiet. Her? The worst student? Sol let’s out an uncertain laugh.

“Ah, me? I rather my roomie shares. She did better than me.” Sol says, then prepares a fresh document for note taking on her laptop.

“I didn’t do well.” Sol B says quietly, her eyes emotionless as usual, leaning back into the chair. “You did the best. Go on.” Sol is stunned and just nods uncertainly. Taking out her case notes and her reports that she submitted, she nervously discusses the topic on hand. She sneaks Joon Hwi a couple of questioning stares but he only pretends to not catch her eyes.

Everyone is enthusiastic, asking questions and when Sol is stumped, they jump in to help her. They suggest ideas and Sol has never felt so energised by their energy before. She find it fishy how Joon Hwi just sits back and she can feel him smiling whenever she makes a point right or figures out a missing link.

An hour later, when they are done expanding on Sol’s case and discussing, they break for a late lunch together.  Yebeom enters the room with bags of food, as usual over ordering. As they pass out containers of jjampong and jjajamyeon, Sol’s eyes light up when she saw the only thing that mattered in the whole order: her beloved pickles, in doubled servings. 

What Sol doesn’t expect is for JiHo to dump his packet of pickles on her container of noodles. 

“JiHo-ah, why...” Sol is dumbfounded for a moment as JiHo opens his pack of noodles to stir. JiHo only pushes up his glasses. 

“You can have them, noona.” Sol is even more dumbfounded. This was the first time JiHo has called her noona. She didn’t care for the honourifics, and JiHo could call her by her full name for all she cared. But hearing those words from Seo JiHo’s mouth, just made her think everyone was utterly suspicious today.

“Okay, everyone is being weird. What is this?” Sol announces, hoping her tone came out fun, with no hints of anger. 

“Nothing! We just know you’ve been feeling stressed, so JiHo decided to give you his share of pickles, right?” BokGi quips up, as he dives into taking the sauce to pour over the tangsuyuk, before Yebeom and him argue over pouring or dipping. 

Sol, still feeling suspicious, breaks her chopsticks just as Joon Hwi picks up a pickle from her plastic saucer to put on her noodles. Her eyes dart from his chopstick to his face, but he just nods at her pickles, expressions hard to read.

Sol crunches on her pickles, but it does nothing to soothe the feeling that everyone was aware of something, but her. 

-----

The rest of the week was a puzzle piece that Sol could not fix together.

She woke up everyday to a new message by Joon Hwi, sometimes sending her funny videos, or a simple “let’s get through this together”. She woke up once to her roomie handing her breakfast and coffee. It just didn’t click in Sol’s head to see the cold Sol B hand her a sandwich and coffee.

Their group chat was undoubtedly noisy, but even more so now. Something in common was how the more chatty ones would ask Sol for advice or chat and strike noisy conversations. She was used to the chaos, but she definitely didn’t feel used to having the attention on her.

As the group had earned different internships from small and large firms, Sol was going to be left in school alone, still applying and hoping for one to come her way. Her study group knew about it, and instead continued to encourage her about it. They avoided talk on their internships, and actively tried to help Sol. While Sol was grateful, she couldn’t help but wish that they would just act normal and not worry about her.

She chose to meet them for breakfast on the day of their internships. The meal was noisy as usual as they ate their sandwiches and gimbaps. They were dressed smartly in their suits with their briefcases. Sol made a fuss over everyone looking smart on their first day.

“Hurry up and eat, you’re going to be late for your internship!” Sol scolded BokGi as he and Yebeom threw comments back and forth. Everyone was off for theirs and ready with their jackets and bags. Walking with them to the door, she couldn’t help but feel like a mom to her kids, sending them to school.

“Noona! Check your table later in the libra-” Yebeom gleefully mused before BokGi clamped his mouth shut and JiHo (with much irritation) smacked his head silently.

“What?” Sol asks, turning to Joon Hwi, who was turning redder by the second. Joon Hwi closes his eyes, the same way he does when he’s embarrassed and looks away from her.

“Listen to Yebeom and check the table.” He says, finally looking at her. “We’ll see you for dinner then.” Waving a quick goodbye, the group walked away from her towards the carpark where they separated to the bus stops or in the direction of the train station.

“O-Okay…” she mutters, still confused as she carries her books and bag to her usual table at the library. She would have went to sulk at Professor Kim’s office for a while, but she instead chose to head straight to study. Professor Kim had enough on her plate and she wasn’t ready just yet to face Professor Kim with her mood.

There, at her table, lies her stack of books.

Normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Huffing out, she slumps her bag on her table, gathering the post its on the bar above the table. Most of them were just plain comments, like how she had to stop slamming her pen into her hand (it distracted students) or move out of the library cause there aren't enough seats. Opening her book on civil code, she was ready to start drilling her head before meeting Professor Kim. 

Then she spots an envelope, hidden between the pages of the book.

Carefully, she picks it out and looks on the cream white paper, the only ink on it her name, written in neat handwriting. She could recognise Joon Hwi’s handwriting anywhere. A slight scoff escapes her lips and several students turn in annoyance. Realising that this was probably not the best place to be in, she grabs her books and bags (and the post its) and leaves the library. She heads to the empty study room, where she knows she’s be comfortable at.

Opening the flap, she slips out numerous slips of paper, varying degrees of length and sizes. Some words were neat, some were a little messy.

-----

To: Unnie <3

Sol-unnie, you know you’re smart, right? Your grades may not show that you are the best, but I know you are! Whenever I hear you discuss a case with the study group, I know you’re trying your best to memorise and improve. Don’t give up, unnie! I will support you till the end!

- Yeseul 

To: Sol-A noona

Yah, noona! You have to stop injuring yourself, okay? You gave us a really big scare the last time when you started nose bleeding in the midst of study group. Noona, don’t look at your grades anymore! If a man like me can get through law school so far pretty well, you can too! Fighting, noona! 

Noona~ you’re really talented. The fact that you scored so well during the criminal law test and managed to spot the comma just shows for amazing you are! Noona, don’t be discouraged... seeing you discouraged makes us sad too. Your favourite dongsaeng is here to help you! 

- BokGi and Yebeom 

To: Kang Sol-A

You can do it. Review your cases before classes. Get your internship.

-JiHo

To: Sol-A

Live up to your name, will you? And sleep on a regular schedule. 

- Roommate

To: Sol

Sunbae, remember me? Stop doubting yourself and trust yourself. You’re smarter than you know and fit for court. I will support you from wherever you are. I’m grateful for you, for supporting me all this time. I think Dan would be proud of you, and so will the cookie Byeol. 

Sol, you are worthy in my eyes. So stop undermining yourself. You belong in Hankuk next to me. You can’t give up now.

-Joon Hwi

-----

Sol lets a smile creep on her face as she lets a small blush rise to her face. Holding her letters to her heart, she closes her eyes, reminding herself of the past week and her friend’s efforts to cheer her on. She knew no doubt it had to be Joon Hwi who convinced everyone there to write for her despite their busy schedule. For even Sol B to help out and bother about her, it warmed her heart to have her support.

Picking her book, she pinned her hair up as she started drill into her book with a new found confidence, fuelled by her friends supporting her. But most importantly, she felt worthy. She felt loved. She felt confident. She was hopeful.

(Everyone thinks she’s worthy in their eyes, but one just thinks she’s perfect.)

[xiaomoxu]

Lucien - Leisure Light Date

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

A date from CN server which hasn’t been released on EN server yet.

It turned out I have some time for translating this date before I have a date with some works later~ please enjoy a sweet moment on their leisure time ^^

Translations under the cuts~

In the middle of the autumn, the sun willingly spilled into the living room, and the fragrance of sweet-scented osmanthus was lingering on the tip of my nose. I took a deep breath and opened the long-awaited book.

MC: Where did I read it last time..."The psychological effects that should be avoided in business management" seems to be here.

Before I read a few lines, the news of the company group suddenly jumped out, I was a little confused and opened it.

Kiki: Guys! I found the most unbeatable challenge on the entire network!

Kiki: It's the actor who worked with us last time! We sincerely invite everyone to try it!

Kiki said and sent a link to the video, with the title saying "no temptation challenge, 100% failure."

MC: 100% failure is too exaggerated...

I was about to open it when Lucien sat beside me at some point and put two glasses of juice with lemon slices on the coffee table.

Lucien: Looking at what?

MC: Kiki posted a video just now, it's very popular recently, called "no temptation challenge."

I put the phone between us and Lucien glanced at the screen, showing a thoughtful expression.

Lucien: Several young interns in the Institute also watch this type of video recently.

MC: Hahaha I didn't expect this craze has spread to the group of scientific researchers.

Thinking that the interns in the institute are all boys, I blinked, took Lucien's arm, and looked at him meaningfully.

MC: Did Professor Lucien also watch it? Don’t you wanna share it with me?

Lucien was amused by my look, his eyes curled up, and there was a hint of cunning in his eyes.

Lucien: Would you be angry if I said I had seen it?

MC: Not to that extent, it's just a little bit concerned.

Lucien: Really? Then why your mouth is pouting.

MC: It isn't.

Hearing this, I pursed my mouth deliberately, but saw the smile on Lucien's face wider.

Lucien: Your "a little bit of concerned" makes me very happy.

Lucien: But what I just said is just a hypothesis. The actual situation is...I haven't seen it.

MC: I guess so, after all, a busy person like Professor Lucien would not kill time in this way like me.

Lucien: Oh? It seems that MC have seen it a lot?

Lucien: I am a little curious, from the perspective of a big producer, what would it look like.

MC: In fact, I watched it mostly when I was looking for inspiration for new programs with my colleagues, and now I don’t see much impression.

Now that I think about it, I have never faced this "no temptation challenge" with the mentality of an audience.

Seeing the lemon stuck in the mouth of the juice glass, an idea came to my mind.

MC: Since we have never played, how about playing together once?

Lucien: With you, of course.

Lucien: However, I didn't know much about the specific rules.

Lucien: Is it literally? As long as there is no temptation in the moment of the challenge, it is considered successful?

MC: That's right.

MC: As for the punishment if we failed, let use these two lemons.

Lucien: So how can we judge whether a person is being tempted?

MC: Mostly in this situation, people's temptation will show on their faces.

As soon as the voice fell, I found Lucien's gaze was looking at me, as if he was thinking about some episodes of the past.

It was confirmed that something was normal, and his eyes were stained with a smile.

Lucien: Well, this statement can indeed be proved by you.

My cheeks were a little hot unconsciously, and as expected, before this person, my mind had never been able to hide.

MC: Suddenly I feel that this challenge is too easy for you. After all, Professor Lucien is very good at hiding his mind...

Lucien reached out and squeezed my palm.

Lucien: Isn't the "no temptation challenge" that is the easiest way for me to fail, right in front of my eyes?

Looking at Lucien's serious face, I blinked.

MC: Really, let me demonstrate the reaction of Professor Lucien's heart this time!

Lucien: This classmate seems very certain that I will fail, have you forgotten...You need to work hard for your challenge first?

MC: Humph, my challenge is just watching the video. I must be expressionless all the time.

Lucien: Then I will study by the side, your excellent demonstration.

MC: I must take the lead~

I responded to his ridicule with a smile, moved closer to him, picked up the phone and clicked on the link.

Unlike ordinary challenge materials, many roles that the actor has played are edited in this video.

There are gentle scholars in white shirts, chic and dusty knights, mysterious and mad assassins, cute and considerate neighbor....

There are many types, and it seems that no matter what the audience’s aesthetic orientation is, they can always find something that suits their minds in this video.

Although I knew the technique very well, my mood was gradually aroused by the slow jazz music and the right lens flare.

The finale was a cold-faced agent wearing a dark trench coat and holding a black technological cane.

Seeing the back of the character walking calmly in the smoke of gunpowder and hunting wind, another person suddenly appeared in my mind.

Dangerous, mysterious, and people want to follow and approach.

He must be very suitable for this appearance...

Thinking of this, I couldn't help but look up at Lucien, but I was falling into his gaze.

I was reflected in his eyes, and the corners of his mouth were curled up unconsciously because of my own cranky thoughts.

MC: You, don't look at me first!

I rubbed my face eagerly, trying to drive away the clearer image in my mind.

Under the slowly stirring music, the video has been replayed a second time, and my sight was blocked by a glass of juice.

Lucien: It turns out that our well-informed big producers will also be defeated by this challenge.

I was speechless for a while, and turned my face up to Lucien, blinking and pursing my cheeks to quibble.

MC: This challenge video is really cunning, the character is different from the real person, and there is a lot of room for people to associate...

Lucien's gaze fell on me faintly, which made me unconsciously think of the other side of him again.

With a guilty conscience, I averted my eyes and squeezed the lemon slice in front of me.

MC: Well, I am willing to accept punishment!

The sour lemon scent exploded in my mouth. I frowned and covered my mouth, curling up my toes.

MC: It's... sour!

Lucien looked at my sour expression so that I couldn't speak clearly, and smiled for a while before putting the glass in my hand.

Lucien: Drink slowly, don't choke.

The taste of orange and mango dilutes the sourness. I put down the bottomed glass and took a long breath.

MC: I shouldn't be curious about Kiki's stuff...

Lucien: But a certain classmate was very happy just now, and she didn't blinked her eyes.

Lucien: Speaking of which, since it is the actor you have worked with, then I am very curious.....

Lucien: At the scene, are you taking that seriously too?

The implications of this question are self-evident.

I held Lucien's arm and leaned in front of him, looking into his eyes

MC: At the scene, I have to coordinate the shooting and control the progress. How can I look at someone so seriously?

MC: For Professor Lucien who is a program consultant, isn't it very clear?

MC: In fact, when I was watching the video, I smiled because I thought of you.

I talked more softly as I speak, while watching his expression.

Lucien: Well, I guessed it, because at the end of the broadcast, you looked up at me.

Guessed it? Thinking of Lucien's words and deeds just now, I blinked in a daze.

MC: That… but you still....

The person before me seemed to finally couldn't help but smile, and the corners of his lips pulled out a beautiful arc.

Lucien: I am just like you, only "a little bit concerned".

Lucien: Of course, I also want to see how you concerned about me.

Lucien's coquettish tone inadvertently made me want to coax him again.

MC: I always concerned about you.

With that said, I looked at him pretentiously.

MC: Hmm...I found that our Professor Lucien still looks the best, without any make up and filters!

Seeing my eyes brightly pleased, Lucien raised his index finger and tapped my forehead with his knuckles, looking helpless.

Lucien: Judging from the range of people you have contact with, such an evaluation seems too exaggerated.

MC: This is the truth.

Lucien: You....

MC: After all, "the beauty is in the eyes of the lover".

Lucien: For this point, I can feel the same.

He spoke bluntly and sincerely, as if he didn't feel embarrassing what he said at all.

I looked away unnaturally, trying to hide my blushing cheeks, and inadvertently saw the book on the table that I was holding upside down.

MC: Puff—it’s also a coincidence that I just read the phrase "beautiful in the eyes of a lover" in a book.

Lucien moved his gaze to the book in my hand and raised his eyebrows.

Lucien: "Business Management and Psychology"? This is mentioned in this book, which is a bit surprising.

Seeing that he was interested, I simply picked up the book and shared it with Lucien.

MC: Well, when I read about the "halo effect", a short example in the book mentioned "beauty in the eyes of a lover".

MC: In fact, people are not only easy to perceive the heart from the outside, but also generalize from the inner character traits to the appearance evaluation.

MC: Therefore, what we often say "beauty in the eyes of lovers" is also a manifestation of the halo effect.

Lucien: Using this example to explain the "halo effect" is indeed small and easy to understand.

Lucien: However, it is placed in the whole module of "The psychological effects that should be avoided in business management", which seems to be too rational.

MC: I don't know if I, with the blessing of "halo effect", can I let Professor Lucien challenge and fail?

Lucien smiled and picked up the glass and took a sip of juice.

Lucien: Do MC want to see how I eat lemons?

I looked at the piece of lemon on the mouth of his glass that had lost some moisture, and shook my head.

MC: No need, this slice of lemon is a bit dry.

MC: How about changing the penalty for failure to... before the end of the fall, how about taking time to accompany me on an autumn outing in the suburbs?

Lucien: Well, we really haven't been to the suburbs for a long time.

I turned around and hugged him with joy.

Lucien encircled me and stroked my hair which hanging behind my shoulders with his warm palms.

MC: What to do, this failure punishment is very tempting to me.

Lucien gave a low laugh, pressed against my chest and shook lightly.

Lucien: It's not difficult to make my heart beat faster. Perhaps, this challenger and referee can work hard.

MC: Hm...

The steady and powerful heartbeat hit my auricle, and I suddenly had an inspiration.

By the way.. Accelerated heartbeat is also a way of judging your heartbeat, right?

I lifted my head from his arms and blinked.

MC: I have a way to record the moments of Professor Lucien's heartbeat!

I took off the smart watch in my hand and pulled Lucien's hand.

The internal test of the watch strap also carried the body temperature, and it was tied to his well-defined wrist.

Lucien squinted his eyes, his lips lifted up with a helpless smile.

Lucien: I remember you said that you bought it to supervise your health management. Unexpectedly, entertainment functions could also be developed.

MC: Make the best use of it!

I entered the data on the app and nodded with satisfaction.

MC: I set up a function that sounds when the heart rate is exceeded.

MC: Now even if Professor Lucien controls his expression well, his heartbeat will be exposed.

Lucien: Miss referee is so strict, it seems I have to be careful.

MC: Of course, I have to be strict with a smart person like Professor Lucien. It’s not that easy to make your heart beat.

Lucien: Yes?

Lucien: But you obviously can do it all the time.

Lucien spoke naturally and even took a leisurely sip of juice.

His unsuspecting state seems to be suitable for "raid".

I moved inwardly, pretending to lean towards him inadvertently, and slowly stretched out my hand to touch the corner of his lips.

MC: There seems to be some juice here.

Lucien smiled and cooperated with me and lowered his head, letting my thumb slowly rub his clean lips.

Lucien: It seems to be stained a lot.

The warm breath brushed my fingertips, making a sultry itchy.

My heart was beating like a drum, and I raised my head and moved closer--

Suddenly the cell phone ringing abruptly, breaking the atmosphere at this moment.

I hurried not to show a hot face, grabbed the phone and handed it to him

MC: You, you answer the phone first!

Lucien chuckled and touched my hair naturally after answering the phone.

Lucien: Lectures... My schedule may affect other people's work arrangements, so I need to checked it again.

I turned my head and looked at Lucien's profile quietly. He responded to the phone as usual, with no trace of heartbeat.

Probably my eyes were too straightforward. When the phone was turned off, he looked at me, pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows.

Lucien: Isn't the juice cleaned yet?

I straightened the hair around my cheeks, trying to hide my red cheeks.

MC: No, I want to tell you... the challenge is success.

Seeing that he didn't say anything, I hurriedly changed the subject and asked him about the lecture.

MC: Is the time for new lecture invitations out of schedule?

Lucien: Well, the time of the lecture has collided with the shooting schedule of next weekend. I am about to ask for your suggestions.

I reviewed the shooting arrangements in my mind and got an idea.

MC: How about postponing that part of your shooting until next weekend? So you can go to the lecture!

Lucien: That...Thank you for the "black box operation" of the big producer. Please say my apologies to our colleagues in the program team.

MC: Okay, don't worry about this.

We tacitly stopped the topic of work and continued to enjoy the long time of the holiday.

Lucien leaned back on the sofa in a relaxed manner, the light golden spot flickering under his eyes, and he closed his eyes.

MC: You got up a bit early to make a breakfast, are you sleepy?

Lucien smiled and held my hand, and hooked his fingers like a baby.

Lucien: Maybe because it’s autumn, can you take a nap with me here?

I nodded lightly and leaned against his shoulder.

-

I don't know how long it took, but in a trance, I heard the rustle of leaves blowing in the wind.

I opened my eyes, and the shadow of the tree on the floor danced slightly, and there was nothing beside me, with only a blanket still covering my body.

The breeze blew the white gauze curtains, and there was still the breath of laziness after a nap in the air.

I stretched my waist and heard a small noise from the study, so I got up and walked towards it.

The door of the study was closed. When I opened the door, Lucien was sitting at the table, shrugging his shoulders and listening his mobile phone casually.

His hair is a little messy, and his legs are covered with a blanket. It looks like he just woke up.

But his eyes were serious about looking at the shorthand notebook in his hand, and he had clearly entered the working state.

The cap of the pen was bit between his teeth, and the rustle of writing sounded intermittently, making the room more quiet.

He recorded something enthusiastically, occasionally answering the person on the other end of the receiver briefly.

Lucien: Mm-hm.

Maybe a new proposition is brewing at the tip of his pen, maybe he is calculating one of the thousands of possibilities.

The bright sunshine poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows and enveloped him in warmth.

Lucien looked up and saw me, took the pen cap in his mouth and the phone on his shoulder, and gently covered the microphone with his wrist.

Lucien: It will be over soon.

I walked over lightly, and got into his arms in his somewhat surprised eyes.

The surprise in his eyes was replaced by a gradually widening smile, and he held a shorthand notebook around me.

I rested on Lucien's shoulders, his collarbone was exposed and he looked extremely white in the sun.

As if bewitched by some sort, I lowered my head and dropped a kiss on the delicate skin.

Suddenly, the smart watch beeps twice.

My cheeks warmed a little, and I wanted to get up helplessly, but the shackles on my waist didn't mean to loosen the slightest.

The person on the other end of the phone finished the report and was saying goodbye to Lucien.

Lucien: Let's do this first, thanks for your hard work.

Lucien hung up the phone, put the shorthand notebook full of calculations aside, and took off his watch by the way.

MC: Am I interrupting your work?

I looked up and saw a warm light and a particularly soft smile in his eyes.

Lucien: I think strictly speaking, work interrupts us.

I glanced at many places on the shorthand notebook with question marks and blinked at him.

MC: There are many remaining issues, no need to deal with it?

Lucien: It doesn't matter, it's too late to wait until the working day. Now I have more important things to deal with.

MC: Is there anything more important than research?

Lucien: Of course there is.

Lucien: I just thought that usually challenge games should have rewards as opposed to punishments, right?

MC: Um... we did not discuss the rewards

Lucien: But when you hugged me just now, I thought of what kind of reward I wanted.

The pupils of Lucien's eyes glowed brightly when he looked at me, and soft ripples fainted under his eyes.

Lucien: Next weekend, I don’t want to miss the time I spent with you like today.

Lucien: So... can I be greedy and let you accompany me on business trips?

Lucien: As compensation, maybe we can realize your autumn outing plan together in a farther place.

--

[lemonhobgoblin]

A Casual Night

Mothman x human reader (gender-neutral)

Word Count: 7k

(I remember saying I would have a fic done the same week I posted my other fic. Well, that was a lie. After dealing with work, creating new wips, and editing what started as a 2k fic became this long-ass post. I tried to keep this gender-neutral, but if there are any parts thats not gender-neutral, or if something doesn't make sense give me a message and I'll fix it. Anyway hope you enjoy!)

The faint sound of your car running and the sound of the wind whipping against the surface was muddled out by old tunes playing from a random radio station filling the lonely ride home. Your eyes trained on the dark empty road ahead, your headlights on full beam, lighting your way. The subtle notes of a box of cooling pizza wafting in your direction every so often.

You were driving from a city over from where you lived, coming back from a friend’s home who was having a small get-together. It was a great time, unwinding from the stresses of work and life in general, with games, movies, playful banter, and sharing a couple of drinks. As the night progressed, things began to slow down, one of your friends passed out on the couch while everyone else turned to some lighthearted conversation. Leading the host to pipe up if they were willing to spend the night given how late it has gotten and mostly due to how much some people drank.

While everyone was willing to stay the night and continue their night of merriment. You on the other hand as well as one other person had to leave for the night due to work obligations you both had tomorrow morning.

Regretfully, you made your exit not without being offered leftovers for the ride back. But halfway home, you received an email detailing how you were not needed for work tomorrow as you were getting gas.

With this newfound information, you had the choice of making a U-turn back or continue straight home.

Rather than driving back to your friend's home, you were just going to continue your way home. You already said goodnight to them, and you were almost home even though it was still quite a ways to go. Nevertheless, they probably turned in for the night by now, and there was always next time to make it up to them.

So driving down an empty two-way road, with no lights fixture to light the road. With no other cars passing through, keeping you company. Only the trees crowding around the road giving you some sort of haunting looming audience. This was a normally busy road; however, by how late in the night it was, it was understandably dead.

Fortunately, enough, you saw your first signs of life up ahead. It seemed to be a herd of deer passing by. You honked your horn to scare them away from the oncoming danger that was your car.

Except instead of dispersing, they stayed in place, it didn’t seem out of the ordinary why else did they have the saying 'a deer in headlights.'

But what was odd, was the closer you approached the herd of deer they seemed to be floating off the pavement, apparently, they were one entity and not a group and had a pair of red glowing eyes. It stirred an unpleasant feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Promptly, an undiscernible screech erupted all around, jolting you in your seat, feeling a pang of sudden fear washing over you. Convincing yourself it was only the radio going off the fritz, peeling your eyes away from the road you scrambled to shut off the device. During your haste to bring an end to the blaring otherworldly sound, you didn’t realize how fast you were driving.

"What the fuck?!" Seeing a flash of a large dark mass smashing against your windshield - shards of glass flying around and onto you.

Swerving your car over to the side of the road, feeling the right side slope down, the bumps of the grass making you rattle and jostle in your seat. Putting your car to a complete stop.

Frantically, you scrambled to free yourself from your seatbelts, ripping yourself from your constraints, you busted out your car. Not giving a single care to the state of your car or your frazzled state. Only concerned about what or who you hit.

Jogging down, you saw a crumpled figure on the ground, he was a good distance away from where you parked. "Oh my god," You exclaimed.

“I didn’t see you coming, I’m so sorry," you yelled, hurrying to aid the individual. You didn’t get a response or see any movement - he did hit your car pretty hard.

Scared for their wellbeing you slowed down and fished for your phone in your back pocket to call for help. But before you could dial for help, you saw something that put halt to your actions. You starred in disbelief as your phone locked out.

From the figure, a wing stretched out toward the sky before folding back in itself.

What the hell did you hit?!

Cautiously, you crept forward to get a better look, you could see he was wearing a fur jacket. No. He was furry everywhere, dull in color but with an interesting print on what you believed was the wings, the pattern was similar to a moth's wing. A costume perhaps? His legs were a digitigrade structure and his feet are similar to a bird's foot arrangement. The talons of which were scraping against the road like an animal in pain.

"A moth?" Perplexed at what exactly you were looking at, it still seemed human, but it was too large in stature given it curled up on the ground. This had to be some large person in a very convincing costume. Assuming it was someone dressed up, as what you could only think of as Mothman. A random tall person dressed head to toe in an extremely convincing Mothman in the middle of an isolated road, for reasons you couldn't conjure but there had to be a rational reason as to why.

The closer you approached, the more of your rationality began to slip. Carefully you squat down, putting your hands on its back, it felt real. Too real.

The wings felt warm, stroking your hand down, you felt the ridges, bumps, and what felt like a pulse, in the wings. You noticed it had a plush ruff around its neck that could’ve been mistaken for a scarf. And there were antennas on its head, it was featherlike and twitched every few seconds. You had no desire to investigate further, yet you had a gnawing sense of curiosity that compelled you.

Besides what if was someone who was severely injured and needed immediate help. And what kind of person would you be if you just drove off without a second thought, leaving them to die. You couldn't live with yourself if that was the case.

This is too unreal. But all the signs suggested otherwise.

Bracing yourself, you gently turned him over to face you, the moment you caught a glimpse of his face, you felt instant regret surge through your veins. You stumbled backward, landing on your back, trying to push yourself away from the massive creature with your legs.

"MOTHMAN!!" You screamed.

This in turn alarmed the cryptid, flapping his wings erratically in response to your sudden outcry. It was emitting these indiscernible sounds that you had heard earlier in the car, it provoked that familiar immense fear within you.

Except, this was louder than when you were in your car, the sound reverberated through you, chills traveling up your spine. You could feel your heart palpitating within your chest, your trembling limbs growing numb. You felt your senses heightened at an alarming rate it was nauseating that you felt your mind blur. If these disquieting sounds alone could trigger your flight or fight response, without the presence of the monster. It was nothing in comparison to the full show that was in front of you, it was overwhelming in all the senses, inciting you to get far as possible.

"Holy shit!" Pulling yourself from your state of shock, you turned over onto your hands and knees, pushing yourself up and away, making a straight beeline to your car without delay.

The screeching stopped behind you. Glancing back toward the monster curious if it was making a move towards you. But all you saw was a poor incapacitated being, pitifully attempting to lift itself away. One of its wings was flapping while the other was barely moving at all. When it tried to move its stiff wing, it wouldn't fully extend before retracting it back, making what sounded like a pained low screech.

In all honesty, even in your fear-driven state, it pained you to witness this distressing scene. Pondering back and forth between taking the car and leaving, or taking your chances with the monster.

Inching toward the car, all without removing your eyes from the scene. Then you heard a more distressing shrill, stopping you dead in your tracks. You couldn't leave him.

He still needs help.

Inhaling a deep breath, you shakily walked back, each step was challenging you felt so weak in the knees and you felt lighter than usual. Your mouth desiccated of any moisture but persisted in swallowing nothing. It felt as if you were walking down to your execution and it might as well be. You couldn't predict what it would do or what it was capable of doing if you got any closer. Regardless, you tried to push your fears aside and help him, even if it killed you.

"Hold on, I'm not gonna hurt you. Just don’t hurt me please." Easing yourself onto your knees, mindful of not doing any sudden movements to provoke it any further for both of your sakes.

Bringing a hand back to where you had it before, you delicately brushed your hand up and down in small strokes on its wing. Focusing on his state and not his appearance, you saw cuts and scrapes littering its wings and body.

You grazed over an open wound, causing the creature to flinch, silently apologizing to him in a hushed tone before continuing to pet him while avoiding any more wounds.

Its breathing began to slow, quelling its jitters. You took this as an indicator of the creature growing at ease at your presence. “See I just wanna help." You whispered as the Moth creature peered up, gazing into your eyes in a sort of mutual understanding. Ensuring a feeling of reprieve within you and within him, or so you thought. It was soon to be proven wrong. The moment was short-lived when the cryptid began to thrash around again, this time trying to keep you away from him.

"Wait I thought we had an understanding there." Pulling yourself into a ball to avoid the cryptid's violent flapping wing and arms recklessly whipping around. "The eye contact we had! The eye contact!" you screamed after being betrayed by this false sense of amicable trust you thought you both had shared at that moment. But this ineffectively did nothing to fix the dilemma, merely adding more to the chaos.

"Please I want to help you." Reaching your hand out to calm him once more, without the screaming and flailing this time. "This was my fault, I wanna help and then you can go on your Mothman way, okay?" You tried to coax. Once more the monster began to quiet down, its quick shallow breathing slowed. Weary of his soothed behavior, you waited a bit before wrapping his arm over your neck.

"Okay, I'm gonna pick you up or at least try to." You said, guiding him upward into a standing position.

"Christ, you’re heavy!" Bending under the weight, propping him against your frame, so you could get a proper footing and grip on him. You struggled to the car, trudging over, but not without one of your legs giving out from under the weight occasionally. What caught your eye was how his head lulled forward or side to side, he might be disoriented from the blow. Not wanting to move his head much, you trudged much slower than you already were and stopped every few seconds.

Arriving at you your vehicle, you rested against your car, before opening the car door and easing him inside into the backseat. Tucking in any stray limbs and wings fully inside the car. Shutting the door you looked at the heavily cracked windshield. It was damaged pretty well, you summarized that you had to slowly drive all the way home. Wait home.

"Wait, I can't just bring you to my house." You said, bringing a hand to your mouth, realizing a new issue. "Someone's gonna see you." Remembering you lived on a busy street near pubs and shops, and it was Friday night you could only assume there were still people out and about enjoying the nightlife. Peering inside your car, your eyes locked on your jacket in the front seat.

"Maybe I can disguise you, and it is Friday night maybe people would be too drunk to notice."

"As long as we don't draw too much attention." You said, getting into your seat and starting up the engine. But something about saying those words aloud, felt like it was going to bite you in the ass but what’s the worst that can happen, you had him handled.

….

Here you were driving back home with the low-volume melody playing like before. However, this was different, before you were alone and you welcomed the tranquil ambiance you had riding home. But now you were riding back with an elusive creature. Creating an unsettling silence within the vehicle. What was maddening was that you were unsure what he was thinking, making you unsure of what to do besides drive. Maybe you were overthinking this but you felt you had to do something to break this disorienting atmosphere because this was too hard to fathom as reality.

"D-Do you want gum? L-Leftover pizza?" Your voice cracked, quickly clearing your throat asking again in a stronger confident voice.

No response. You tapped your fingers on the steering wheel, sucking in your cheek prompting you to purse your lips in your endeavor of finding what else to say. Flitting your eyes back and forth from the road to looking around your car on what else to offer.

"My coat?"

No response again.

Looking at your rearview mirror to get a glimpse of the cryptid only to be met with its red eyes staring directly back at you. Hastily looking back to the road and sinking into your seat, alarmed. How long was he staring at you? Why was he staring? At least he seemed less disoriented now, but you didn’t need that right now, maybe you could draw his attention onto something else other than you.

"How about some air?" you asked, hoping he would stare out the window or put his head out, anything but him staring at you all the way home. Gliding your left hand over to the window control panel on the side of your door, you pushed down a button making his window rolled down. This captured his attention, redirecting his gaze towards the open window, watching the trees and road signs passing by. O thank god. but just as he turned his head to the outside, he took this as an invitation to spread his wings to catch some air.

"That doesn't mean you can start flapping, put your wings down." Whipping your head back and forth from the creature to the road, drawing a hand at him, swinging it around to get him to fold his wings down. "PUT YOUR WINGS DOWN! PUT YOUR WINGS DOWN!" Veering your car off to the side of the road.

.....

Back on the road, after sorting out the matter. "Okay, no rolled down windows." You remarked. Mothman looking like a perfect angel in the back tapping at the rolled-up window while you were in the front with your hair messed up and arms lightly scratched. You weren't a mother, but you now had a vague idea of what it would be like and further respect and admiration for them.

Needless to say, you rode the entire way back in silence without a single word being uttered.

…..

Steering your car on the side of the street in front of an apartment complex, you placed your car in park. You turned off the engine. Street lamps and other building lights were illuminating the street. The neon signs from the local business started to shut off, looked like some of them are turning in for the night.

You snatched your jacket from the passenger seat before slipping out and making your way to open Mothman’s car door.

"We need to move, quickly." Throwing your coat over him to conceal him in the event of someone walking by. Mothman pawed at the coat and clutching it closer to get a better look and smell of the material. After gathering your phone and keys, you whirled back toward Mothman. Fussing at him to not move the jacket, readjusting it over his head. You surveyed the streets for anyone coming down or seem like they are heading out in your direction.

Once more putting his arm around you, you strode as quickly as you possibly could to the complex without either of you falling over. Mercifully, you got to the door with no problem at all or bumping into anyone.

Until you heard something you’ve been dreading on the way home, something that made your heart sank down into the deep trenches of your stomach

"Holy shit! Is that Mothman!?!" A male voice exclaimed.

You whirled your head toward the stranger who was slowly approaching you two. Fuck!

Where did he come from and what made him so confident that he’s looking at Mothman. You glanced back over to Mothman noticing that the jacket that was covering his face, was now draped over his shoulders. Drastically you scoured your brain for an excuse or some sort of explanation to counter how this wasn't a cryptid. But he beat you to the punch before you had a chance to find a solid response.

"Dude sick costume!" He said excitedly.

O fuck. Relieved that it wasn't the worse, but you were surprised he didn't question any further especially how close he was to you both. Even you would've questioned, the details and just the overall realism of said 'costume'. It didn't take long for the answer to hit you square in the nose. When a waft of alcohol invaded your nostrils, the man was drunk, and you never were more grateful.

"Thanks." You nervously laughed.

"That’s crazy good man, you did this all yourself?” He asked enthusiastically towards Mothman, beholding every bit of intricacy on the creature.

"He can’t talk right now; he drank too much to function." You interjected. “We just got back from a party.”

"I gotcha, but is it okay if I get a photo though?"

FUCK! you blurted internally, but externally with faux delight, you said "Sure!"

" 'Chad' you cool with that?" you sheepishly asked your moth friend with the first name you could think of for him. And why were you asking him? As if he could make a cohesive verbal response. But you were hoping at this moment he could magically talk, alas all he did was blankly stare.

"I'm not hearing a no." You heard the man say and you woefully agreed.

"Gimme a sec." The man pulled out his phone and tapping it unlocked.

"Okay," your heart was racing in your chest and you could feel a layer of sweat beginning to form and pool in places. But by some sweet grace of some higher being, a miracle happened right before your eyes. You heard a melodious chime sweetly ring through the crisp early fall air.

"O dang getting a call, hold on" the man answered the call, turning his back towards you.

Maybe there was a god, after all, a fucking sadist with a sick sense of humor. Either way, you were not about to pass up this chance for a free getaway.

You took this God-given opportunity to jam your key into the lock swiftly to get the both of you inside. Twisting to unlock the entrance, you could overhear the man to what sounded like him wrapping up his conservation. Turning the knob, you ushered Mothman and yourself inside the apartment complex, but not without throwing a quick apology to the stranger. Slamming your back against the door shutting it closed, a wave of relief washed over you.

"Aw man, that was too close." leaning your head against the door, desperate for a quick breath from your ordeal. You hadn't felt this much adrenaline since, since. You were so winded you couldn't even recall a memory.

Peeling yourself off from the door, feeling ready to make the final steps home. Deceptively though your body wasn’t as ready to move just yet.

"Nope wait." still trying to catch your breath. Doubling over, leaning forward, and resting your hands on your knees. Mothman all the while just tilted his head at you, confused. While you were over there feeling like you were going to be sick. The wave of nausea quickly fading away allowing you to straighten yourself out.

"Okay, we're good." You said as you grabbed his hand leading him up the stairs. Unbeknownst to you, the large creature was zoning in at the unfamiliar contact.

During his entire time with you, he was just as wary of you as you were with him. He wasn’t one to present himself to people, only as a forewarning of what was to come or an indication that Mothman will be the very last thing they would see. He trailed and stalked others like you in your car but was never hit, that was a first for him. Albeit though, him getting hit with your car, leaving him cut up and bruised did give him another reason to be extremely defensive and antsy around you.

Yet, you were gentle, loud but gentle with him when he wasn’t. Risking your safety in an effort for him to get mended. Lightly ghosting his thumb over the soft skin of your hand, tightening his hold on you. But you didn't notice, you were too preoccupied with climbing higher up the stairs, vigilant for any neighbors.

"Come on we're almost to my place." Giving a reassuring hand squeeze.

"Try to stay quiet a little longer." Peering back at the cryptid flashing him a quick warm smile, before looking back straight ahead. The creature looked directly at you, then to stairs, and back to you again. He came up with a grand idea to help with your effort. But first, he had to gain your attention and for this to work, he had to disregard everything you told him not to do earlier. The cryptid started to emit his screech directly at you to get your attention. And to you, he was making a ruckus, that was echoing through the entire stairwell and halls.

"What part of stay quiet do you not understand?" Grimacing at the noise. You stopped your movement, aiming to cover his mouth with your free hand, you felt his mandibles tickling underneath your palm.

The creature pulled your hand away and into his own, clutching both of his hands close to himself, bringing you into him. This gesture was unexpected and left you feeling warm in the face by how close he was pressing you into him. But it didn't last long when he began to bend his knee and flap his wing readying himself to fly up.

"Wait don't" Pushing yourself away from him, you freed yourself from his grasp to stop his actions. He was still injured this would only cause more harm to him and to you if he tried doing what you thought he was about to do. In your effort to stop him, Mothman tried to reach out for you again, only for his wing to smack into you causing you to land on the hard edge of the concrete stairs; headfirst. “Shit."

Groaning, "Well, I deserved that." you brought your hand to your head, you winced at the touch. As you yanked your hand away you caught a glimpse of red in your peripherals. Bringing the hand in your line of vision you saw blood smeared on the tips of your fingers.

Mothman immediately brought his actions to a halt when he saw what he had done to you. His antennas drooped down, he came close, giving you a hand up. Gladly accepting the gesture, he brought you up to an upright position, he felt bad for what he had done to you. Tentatively, he brought a hand up, lightly swiping his claws over your forehead making a low pained screech.

“It’s okay, you just wanted help didn’t you.” He nodded in response, you pressed a hand to the wound preventing the blood from dripping down. You couldn’t be mad at him he didn’t know better, and you did hurt him first, it only felt fair. Disrupting this tender moment, you heard yelling and heavy footsteps approaching one of the doors on the floor you were on.

"Let’s go!" you rushed up the stairs, luckily for you both it was the final flight of stairs. Reaching the top of steps in record time when you heard the front swing door open.

"What's with all that commotion!?" A neighbor yelled upward toward the sound of your feet stomping up. Coming to an abrupt halt at your door, you whispered for Mothman to stay where he was, while you dealt with the matter below. But he decided to follow behind instead, not wanting to leave your side.

"Sorry I was just goofing" You admitted, showing your face over the rail, outing yourself to your neighbor.

"Sorry my ass, I got work early tomorrow, you expect me to sleep with this fucking racket outside, and now this." They argued back, and rightly so, who wouldn’t complain about an unearthly ear-piercing screech penetrating through the halls along with banging sounds hitting all around the walls. But you couldn’t help but feel annoyed

"I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, promise." You leaned forward resting against the rail while one leg was kicked up behind you, preventing Mothman from coming toward the railing. You exchanged a few more words with your neighbor to avoid the landlord getting involved. Finishing up, you pulled yourself away calling it wraps on the conversation as the individual below continued spewing profanities at you and about the building.

You unlocked and opened your door “In! In! In!" You shoved the imposing cryptid inside, already getting peeved by the neighbor's continuous rambling. It wasn’t anything new they hated everyone in the building, but it wasn’t something you grew used to though.

"Jesus Christ finally." you sighed, kicking the door behind shut.

Slipping off your shoes, leaving them by the entrance, your feet ached in relief from its constructing confines. Dragging yourself through the small hall leading the way to the main part of your home, it was small but cozy.

"Here we are home sweet home." you chimed, leading Mothman further into the living room, grabbing the jacket from him and tossing it to the couch. As well as turning on a lamp to properly illuminate the room. It didn't take long for Mothman to be drawn to the light fixture like the moth he was. He grabbed the lamp hugging it towards him, looking directly at the bulb. Chuckling at the sight, you could’ve given him a flashlight on the way home if he was going to be this mesmerized. You proceeded to make your way to the kitchen for your first aid kit.

"You can make yourself comfortable, but don’t wreck anything please," you shouted from the room over, but Mothman was unbothered, he was solely transfixed on the soft light, eyes wide and grabbing at the lampshade. "I'm gonna go find my first aid kit to fix you and my cut." You really hoped nothing else gets broken, there was already enough screaming and thrashing for the night.

Shuffling through the kitchen, trying to remember where you last placed the kit. You rested and slid a hand over the cool smooth linoleum counter, looking between cabinets for any sign of a small box. Coming to the last cabinet, you rummaged through before finally pulling out your first aid kit.

But you couldn’t help but stop and think about tonight’s events. It started as a fun night, then filled with pure dread, mothering, and now what felt like taking care of a drunk long-time friend. Except, what really dominated your mind was this odd feeling you started to feel, you recounted back in the hall the way he held you close. It made you feel bashful, to say the least. Up to now, you saw him as a friendly harmless dare you say, an unexpected friend. But that didn’t accurately describe what you were feeling. Shaking your heading, you had other pressing matters to attend to.

"Got it, let's see." And not to your surprise you saw the tall cryptid sitting on the couch, clutching the lamp close to him as if it was his lifeline. You contemplated whether you should take the lamp away. But he looked to be enjoying the light source, hearing faint happy chirps emitting from him. Sadly, you decided to ruin his fun, seeing as there were wounds you needed to tend to on his chest and you needed the light to properly see them.

You attempted to pull the lamp away so you could have better access to examine his injuries. In response, he chittered in objection to his lamp being taken, and nothing was going to separate him from his precious lamp. He was going to soon learn that the lamp was barely holding onto the outlet. Hugging it closer to himself, the plug came out, extinguishing the light. Perplexed as to where his light disappeared to, he presented the lamp towards you hoping you would bring the light back.

“I’ll bring it back, but only until I get a look at you.” He nodded vigorously as you grabbed the lamp and setting back on the mini table, blindingly trying to find the plug and inserting back into the outlet turning on the lamp again. You sat on the couch next to him, motioning for him to come closer so you could get to work.

......

"I don’t see any major cuts or anything broken." Scouting out the state of the injuries, they were honestly not that bad, you guessed it was probably due to the now dried flaky blood around his cuts gave the appearance that they worse than what they were. He got pretty lucky but it was probably due to his build that he was capable of taking on more than a couple of hits.

"Only just a sprain and a couple of cuts, that’s a relief" Thinking to yourself glad it wasn't any worse, you couldn't imagine the stress of trying to keep him at your apartment while he heals, and away from your neighbors’ eyes. The fear of him getting caught and taken away and dissected. Being bombarded by officials and Mothman lovers. And getting questioned or probed, maybe even both. You didn’t know if they would, but you knew deep in your heart they would probe you for answers. Stopping your paranoid-filled train of thought from delving any further. You finished tying up a couple of loose ends and sticking on on salve on minor areas.

"See all better. Don’t move too much, it'll heal quickly that way" Gathering any trash to throw away. Everything is fine now; you don’t have plans tomorrow so you could probably sneak him back out the next night.

Huh.

Letting him go. The idea of it should have given you some relief and yet you couldn’t help but feel conflicted. Would he come to visit again? No that would be reckless. Or you could convince him to stay longer to heal, no that would be irresponsible and selfish of you. He deserves to go back, and you're going to help him get back on his feet and let him be on his way. You walked back to the room.

“Feel much better?” you inquired to Mothman who busy was playing with the bandages on him.

He looked directly at you and nodded in response.

"That’s good, the sooner you get better the sooner you can leave," you told him, seating yourself back next to Mothman who hasn’t kept his eyes off of you. You peered up to catch a glimpse of what he was doing, only to capture him looking directly at you with his head tilted.

Not this again. you thought.

He’s certainly not making this any easier. You looked away trying to focus on anything else in the room before you resorted to looking at the floor.

"You know it’s still kinda crazy, that this is even real. Like I feel like I’m going insane," you jokingly confessed to Mothman, laughing to yourself. But you thought about it more, maybe you were, "O my God is this what a psychological break is?" You looked back at him, having an unfazed look on him.

"Can I?" you asked reaching a hand forward. He stared at your hand for a bit, until he leaned forward giving you permission to proceed.

"So soft" allowing yourself to fully feel him, combing your hand through his dark fur and traveling up his ruff. It was surprisingly plush for how it looked, it felt you were touching a cloud but with some tiny debris within it. You gathered more courage to let your hand wander up to his face, giving a couple of brushes before stopping your motion, cupping the side face. His eyes were a brilliant red color comparable to a lustrous gem.

"You really are real." You muttered, stroking a thumb over his cheek.

Mothman brought a clawed hand to your face in a likewise manner, curious of your own features. Where for him he found them peculiar and to other individuals such as yourself they found it normal. The universe was messed up, making it much harder for you to separate yourself from him when the time comes for him to leave, but you allowed this, forgetting your initial plan.

Feeling a sharp claw gliding up against your skin, perfectly capable of nicking you or doing so much worse to you than you could imagine. But he had no intention to do so, merely entranced by you.

His hand wandered up to your forehead, where your gash was, flaky and dried the blood was chipping at the edges. His antennas lowered and chirped in response, for what he did to you back at the stairwell, he didn't mean to. Even if you said it was alright, it still didn’t make him better, bringing a hand to skim the wound, you flinched at the sharp pain of your forgotten injury, knocking you out of your trance-like state.

Mothman drawing back in his seat, alert and worried thinking he hurt you again.

“It’s okay, you did nothing wrong.”

You reached a hand out to calm him, you aimed for his arm but managed to miss and land your hand on his thigh. Wow, that’s great! you internally cringed feeling a blush rush over you, instead of pulling back you still tried to alleviate him by patting his leg, telling him it was the injury that was hurting you not him.

Instead of defusing his concerned mindset, he only tried to push away from you to avoid causing you any further harm. Hand still anchored on his thigh, you launched yourself trying to stop him from hurting himself more.

Fortunately, with your luck, you ended up top of him, Mothman laying on the couch while you hovered over him, with both of your legs planted on either side of his thigh. Your left knee was alarming close to his crotch if you moved an inch closer you would be bumping your knee right into it. Your hands rested squarely on his chest, finger splayed out as you looked down at him with a similar wide-eyed expression.

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

Maintaining your effort of trying to console Mothman, you coughed to clear your throat and your mind of any dirty thoughts from springing up. “Hey, I know you didn’t mean to, and if you did, I would tell you and- and I’m sorry that I gave you the impression that you hurt me and I’m sorry for hitting you with my car, I feel like saying it doesn’t do justice for what I did.” You panted after your long-winded speech.

“Also, I’m sorry for tackling you down that wasn’t my intention. So, you good? I didn’t hurt you?”

He slowly shook his head, as a response that you didn’t hurt him. Startled yes. Hurt no. Bobbing your head in understanding, you carefully crawled off him.

"Well, I guess I should go get the blood washed off, I'll be right back." You informed the still cryptid who made no effort of getting up, just continued to lay on the couch staring straight ahead in shock.

Walking off to clean off the blood and to regain your composure. You were just going through too many emotions than you should for the night. On your way to take care of your problem, you could’ve sworn you heard something akin to a cat purring where Mothman was. But you blew it off and justified it as hearing the blood rushing and the beat of your heart pounding in your ears.

Striding down a hall and into the bathroom you turned the faucet on allowing the water to flow into the sink and onto your hands. Water pooled in your cupped hands before splashing the cold water onto your face, the water, and dried blood dripping together down around the curves and grooves of your face into the porcelain bowl below. It was a satisfying contrast to your heated face, splashing another round of water at your face but an intrusive memory replayed the moment that happened a few seconds ago. Leaving your face buried in your hands, groaning from sheer embarrassment. Fucking hell why am I like this?!

Unwillingly you slid your hands off and look at yourself in the mirror you looked like the accurate personification of a hot mess. You weren’t going to think too much into this, you are going to pretend what happened didn’t happen, you were going to disinfect and stick a bandage on your cut and not dwell on your emotions around the situation at hand. Allowing him to leave as soon as he is better and not have any other affiliations with him again.

Opening the medicine cabinet for an alcohol wipe and unwrapping the wipe from its small packaging.

"Now for the worst part." Quietly hissing at the contact with the antiseptic. Finishing up on cleaning the wound, you foraged through the cabinet looking for a bandaid. Noting there wasn’t one to be found, you sighed.

Guess I need to go find one.

Turning toward the door to walk out, you looked up and saw Mothman standing at the doorway, watching.

How long was he standing? And how the hell is he so silent for such a big guy and why wasn't he like this before? You were about to question him what he was doing here or if needed something when you noticed he was fiddling with a band-aid in hand. Slowly he brought it up, placing it over your cut.

"Thanks." Laying a hand over the band-aid, feeling not just your cheeks warming up but now a butterfly feeling in your stomach, solidifying your emotions for him.

So much for my plan.

Weaseling past him, before enthusiastically asking him, "Well, we got time to pass, so what do you want to do?"

…..

The sun rays bled through the curtains lightening up your home, the light seeping past your eyelashes and into your eyelids forcing you to wake up. Blinded by the light, you groaned in discomfort, pushing yourself up hearing a couple pops in your back. Rubbing a hand up and down your face trying to wipe away the sleep.

What the hell happened here? Why was there glass everywhere? Looking up you saw your window smashed in with only a few jagged pieces in place around the sides. Turning your attention away you looked around the room, wasn’t there someone else here. O yeah.

But the question was, how did you end up falling asleep on the floor, and where was the large cryptid. Wait a minute.

…

"No, you can't go out, you're still hurt." Trying to hold him back from going through the window. Everything was fine, you both were sitting on the couch, watching whatever, and snacking on fruit, and next, you found yourself asleep but woke up to a ruckus, the tv still on, and seeing Mothman trying to rip the curtain off the window nearby. Jumping to action to stop him, he successfully pulled off the curtains along with the rack, you assumed he was trying to leave even though he wasn’t better or so you thought.

And here you were struggling to hold him back, you thought he was difficult before but now that he fully adjusted and patched, you fully experienced that he was pure indomitable power.

"At least wait till the street is clear." You insisted, noticing some people walking or jogging down the street in the dark early morning. But he didn't listen he was adamant in making his exit. So, you made the decision to let him go.

"Okay, okay at least let me get the window, I don’t want glass on the floor." Racing in front of him to slide the window open. A quick gust of wind whipped against your face, causing you to squint your eyes in response.

"There! AH-!" the last thing you saw was Mothman coming at you and the last thing you felt was his frame bulldozing you down by fast approaching torso.

…

"O right." That explains how you ended up on the floor and the glass strewn all over the floor. More incredibly, even when you opened the window, the creature still managed to break the window in its haste to leave. Your head was pounding, he really is a force to be reckoned with. Bringing a hand to your head, you winced at the contact to your forehead but noticed something else. Delicately raising a hand back to your forehead and skimming along the surface. There was the band-aid from the stairwell and on the other side was another. You didn’t remember adding when did you?

Oh.

……

"My window," you muttered groggily, your vision fading out not before the moth creature gave his assistance to you for the last time and a thanks to you by sticking a band-aid on your sure-to-be bruised noggin as you lulled into an unconscious state.

……

At least bug boy was nice enough to get you another band-aid when he put you out cold, before making his exit. Slowly standing up to get started on assessing the mess and knowing full well that you needed to inform your landlord of the window. You peered out the window, curious of any indication of Mothman to spot, unfortunately, all there was to see the was hustle and bustle of the city around and below.

Turning your attention back to the mess, maybe you could make a fib of some large man drunk man pretending to be Mothman breaking into your home believing it was his. Sighing, you went to grab a broom to clean up the mess, at least you were able to encounter a real living and breathing legend. Made you wonder if other cryptids exist, but you’re pretty sure handling one creature was enough for now after last night.

Finishing up, you gathered all the shards and brought them to the trash. You didn’t have work for today, which gave you the opportunity to get a breather and get things done. Making your way to your room and getting ready for the day.

As you were getting clothes on and getting a good look at yourself in the mirror. There square above your eyes and your right eye was a bruise evident from last night's escapades. Shaking your head, laughing to yourself you weren’t going to be able to cover up the contusion. Bringing a hand to your head, you couldn’t help but smile at the cryptids' cute gesture. Walking out of the restroom deciding to let the shiner shine, ready to do some damage control.

Grabbing your keys, and heading out the door, and yet you couldn't stop thinking of that little moth guy. What are the chances of seeing him again? Probably unlikely, a mere once in a lifetime chance but you were grateful to encounter a sweet bug boy like him.

[fundy-simp]

Fundy/GN!Reader - Two Days [11,010 words]

Fluff! For this anon! You were lucky enough to join your European friends on their trip to England and in the process you got to meet your wonderful boyfriend Fundy. Oh, you also got to get the wrath of TommyInnit witnessing his friends in a relationship. (/lh I love Tommy) I have so much fluff for this idea guys, I’m going to write some really cheesy bits for this and I’m going to love it >:] Also there’s a very intimate scene in this, not spicy or heated but idk I felt like I should mention it just incase. Ignore the botched plane stuff, lines that are off from the vlog, and the slightly rushed ending, I was getting a little frustrated with how long this was taking <//3 I promise tho I still love the request and I’m very happy I could fill it in a way that I’m at least mostly happy with. Anyways as always please feel free to scroll past if anything about this makes you uncomfortable :)

Your fingers tapped on the arm rest, leg bouncing as you grumbled, how long does it take a plane to land? Immediately you laugh at yourself, it takes a while. You need to calm down, it’s not like your one plane landing away from your closest friends and the man you quite honestly see as the love of your life! Of course not. It’s just a normal first ever trip to England. This is absolutely fine.

...

You’re entirely lying to yourself, your heart feels like it's going to explode as it beats in your ears. Fundy’s going to be there, the man who’s brought you endless hours of joy and smiles. The man who’s pulled you out of countless panic attacks. The man who you’ve had to lovingly bully into making sure he eats and drinks enough. The man who you’ve fallen asleep in call with countless times. The man who all you’ve ever wanted to do to is yank into a kiss and never let go.

Fidgeting with your seatbelt for a second, you groan and you pull your hands up to your face, resting the heel of your palms on your eyes. You all have known each other for months and logically you know it’ll go fine. But your brain isn’t known for listening to logic, or you for the matter, so when anxiety starts to boil in your stomach you’re not surprised. So many things could go wrong you couldn’t even begin to list them.

It took the plane actually touching the ground to land for you to pull your hands off your face and realize you didn’t hear a single thing the pilot just said. Quietly you waited for them to say your good to go as you readjusted your mask. Good god, your fidgeting is starting to annoy you, what are all of your friends going to think? You sigh as you feel the plane finally stop, waiting till you see other people standing up before standing up yourself.

Slowly the passengers started to leave the plane and carefully you followed behind, trying not to get too close per social distancing and all. Nervously you pat your hands on your thighs, waiting patiently while the flight attendant checked your temperature. Once you got the okay you shuffled off the plane, your eyes scanned over everyone in the airport, looking for any of your friends.

After a few scans you finally spotted Wilbur, how it took multiple tries to spot a man who towered over everyone is beyond you, but aside the point. As you started to jog towards him you see Tommy pop up next to him, "Ayyyee y/n!!" he basically yelled and Niki shushed him, whispering something to Tommy before you see him huff. The scene made you smile, he was definitely just as loud as you expected him to be.

“Hey Tommy!” you replied, you’re still anxious but actually seeing your friends in its own way has calmed you down. Once you get over there Niki pulls you into a quick but tight hug before Wilbur flung an arm around your shoulder.

You couldn’t see his smile, thanks to his mask, but you could recognize the way his eyes were crinkled. “Hey, y/n! How was the flight?” he asked as he started walking, pulling you along with him.

“Oh it wasn’t-” You looked around for Fundy, frowning slightly when you didn't find him, “It was okay. Where- Where’s Fundy?” You asked, unconsciously rubbing your knuckles together, you know he wouldn’t lie to you but a lot of previous relationships made an uncomfortable pit grow in your stomach.

Tommy from the other side of Wilbur let out a bark of a laugh, “That dumbass overslept and missed his flight!” he shrugged, “Don’t know why he still bothered getting another flight but he should be here soon.”

“Yeah, he’ll be here. We’re gonna go get your luggage then we’re heading to his terminal.” Will said as he gave your shoulder a couple of pats, “Don’t worry your lover boy will be here soon!” he couldn’t help but laugh at his own lighthearted teasing while you turned red.

You could hear Tommy gasp as Will said the second part, oh god. You guys never told Tommy you were dating, you both managed to keep it under wraps for an upwards of five months. “You and Fundy are dating?!?!” He yelled, earning himself another glare from Niki that he ignored, too lost in his own laugher, “Oh my god, this is gonna be so great! I’m going to make this so awkward.”

Groaning at the sound of Tommy’s ‘I’m definitely causing mayhem and you can’t stop me’ voice, you sigh and pull Wilbur off of you before looping around to Tommy. He was definitely taller than you but that didn’t stop you from hooking your arm around his neck and pulling him down to your level “Tommy. My main man. My good friend. My best bud, if you will... I swear if you ruin anything within the first thirty minutes, I will personally assure we leave you in an alley after 9 pm.” You gave him a stern squint as he just stared at you. After a few seconds and Niki and Wilbur giggling, you give him a noogie before letting him go, “I’m joking, I’m joking! But, seriously, at least thirty minutes.”

Tommy huffed as he ran his hand through his hair a few times, “Bro what the fuck?” He stopped for a moment, seemingly remembering you asked something of him “... Fine. But you owe me one!” He insisted, you just rolled your eyes and agreed.

By now you had all made it to the baggage claim and you carefully looked for your backpack to make sure you didn’t grab someone else’s by mistake. Once you spotted it you quickly ran to grab it before returning to the group who had moved and sat on one of the rows of benches in the middle of the room. You could see Niki mumble something to Wilbur before he nodded, “You guys whispering gossip without me?? God, my own best friends would really hurt me like this huh?” you say dramatically as you pulled your backpack on.

The two immediately shook their heads, “No, no! Of course not, how could we live with ourselves if we did?” Niki replied, her voice sounding just as dramatic as yours. You both cracked into giggles, them falling into her words as she spoke “But anyway, Fundy might be a little longer so we’re just gonna wait here.” she patted the seat next to her and you happily plopped down.

The next ten minutes were filled with Tommy talking about basically anything he could get away with, future video ideas, Dream SMP plot, at one point you're pretty sure he started talking about SMP Earth, but you couldn’t be sure. It was a nice filler conversation, sometimes one of the others would jump in and say something but you just stayed quiet for the most part, stuck in between the weird middle ground of anxious and very, very tired from your trip.

When you accidently started to doze off you felt someone carefully wrap their arms around your shoulders. “Oh, Fundy...” You say quietly, leaning into the touch for a second before almost jumping out of your skin, “Holy shit, hey Fundy.” You said pulling yourself out of his arms before jumping over the bench to tackle him in a hug. “You’re actually here. Oh my god.” you are trying your damnedest not to cry as you finally learn just how comfortable his hugs really are.

Fundy holds onto you a little tighter when he hears little hics come from you, changing his stance just enough to be sure you both don’t fall, “I'm here, y/n. I really, really am.” he said quietly, burying his face in your hair. “I love you so much.” he pulled you away from him, pulled down his mask so he could place down light kisses everywhere on the exposed skin of your face, making you giggle.

“I love you too, dork.” You reply before pulling your own down and tugging him into a kiss, it was a slow one, full of unfamiliarity and so much love. It made your heart flutter more than he already did and you honestly didn’t think that was possible.

When you both pulled apart you were forcibly reminded by Tommy making very exaggerated gagging noises that you two were, in fact, not alone. “My eyes! Wilbur my eyes!! It’s so gross it's blinding me!” The teen jokes, still fake gagging. You and Fundy just rolled your eyes while you pulled your masks back up, neither you expected anything different from him.

Wilbur just sighed and lightly shoved Tommy, “Great job, you lasted almost five minutes, that’s a record I’d say.” Tommy just replied by flipping Wilbur off which sent the whole group into hysterics. He tried to defend himself but all his sentences just devolved into laughs so he gave up. All you can think about is how this is home, laughing so hard with your friends that you cry while you lean on your boyfriend.

Once everyone calmed down Fundy made sure his backpack was on fully before stepping over the bench. Niki let out a laugh as she jokingly scolded him, "The bench really isn’t that long, you could have just walked around, you know?"

Fundy just shrugged, "I mean, y/n just did it! I'm just following their lead!" he said, a shit eating grin on his face that made Niki sigh.

You chuckled as you walked around and the rest of the group got up, "Well, who's hungry? I know y/n hasn't eaten in at least five hours so why don't we go get pizza or something?" Wilbur suggested, fishing his keys outta his pocket.

“Fuck yeah, pizza!!!” Tommy yelled excitedly, quickly stealing Wilbur's keys and sprinting away.

Will stuttered for a second before running off after Tommy, "Motherfucker, not again! Get back here, you aren't even old enough to drive!!"

You, Fundy, and Niki followed after the two, laughing at their antics. Fundy softly entangled your guy's fingers, placing his forehead on the top of your head for a second in place of a kiss. "Oh my God, you guys are already attached at the hip-" Niki said, laughing more, you know it's lighthearted teasing but it still makes you blush.

"Aw, come on Niki! I thought you'd be the one to not tease us!" you said in a joke whiny tone, hiding your face in Fundy's shoulder.

Niki started to laugh harder, "Oh- Oh hell no, this is just the beginning!" she said, you couldn't see her face but you could absolutely hear the devilish grin. You lightly bonk your head on Fundy's shoulder a few times out of embarrassment which caused him to giggle. Oh. That's so much cuter in person, holy shit.

Sighing, you hear Tommy scream making you snap your head in his direction, Wilbur had him by the wrist, wiggling his keys out of his fingers. Tommy let out a loud laugh as he basically sprinted away from Wilbur to the doors of the airport. “Oh, we got outta here faster than I expected....” you mumbled mostly to yourself, watching Tommy fling the door open at full force and quickly close behind him.

“It was probably longer than you think, you were just too distracted by a certain Dutch to realize it.” Wilbur said while he pushed the door open with his shoulder, lingering long enough for the rest of you to walk though.

"Shut your dirty crime mouth, Soot." you say through a groan, you weren't actually mad, of course, but if they were going to be like this this entire trip your pretty sure your just going to stop existing.

Fundy let out a quiet laugh at your behavior before responding to Wilbur, "I don't know, I feel like this is a win for me! I get all of y/n's attention and you called me 'a certain Dutch' instead of other things." he smirked, still laughing a little.

Wilbur snapped his fingers, "Oh yeah! Of course my bad, a certain furry was distracting you y/n!" he said happily, as he directed the group towards his car and Tommy who was basically already there.

"Noooooo!!!" Fundy grumbled as he brought his free hand up to his face.

Tommy stood at the car now, trying to open the front seat door “Shut up furry boy, I want pizza!” he shouted, trying the door again.

A mischievous grin crossed your face as you lifted his hand up near your face, "It's okay babe, I love you even though you're a furry!" you teased him, which made him groan.

"No no no no no! Stop it!!" he pulled his hand out of yours, causing you to frown, before he crossed his arms and stopped in the middle of the parking lot "I'm not a furry and you know it y/n!! My own partner for fucks sake." You could tell from his high pitched voice that he was joking but you still felt a twinge of guilt in your stomach

Carefully you grabbed his wrists and tried to pull his hands from his face but he pulled against you, “Noooo, sweetheart I’m sorry.” You say in a soft voice, now trying to pull his hands away with a good portion of your body weight. “Baaaaabe, please...” you pleaded, you could feel him tense and shuffle his feet to better support your weight, his hands still not moving. “Oh, this is just unfair now!” you say exasperated.

Fundy tried to keep his pouting bit up but quickly broke into a laugh, it was the fox esque laugh he normally did, it still makes your heart flutter “Unfair!? You’re the one supporting, like, all your body weight on me!” You giggle as you start to lean down towards the ground more, making him wobble for a second before steadying out.

“Holy SHIT, I was supposed to make it awkward but you guys are doing a fine job on your own! What the fuck guys?!” Tommy complained. You turned his way to see him grumpily crawling into the back seat of Wilbur’s car, “Now stop being in love, it’s gross and I want pizza!” He shouted as he slammed his door.

You immediately let go of Fundy, almost stumbling to the ground out of embarrassment, “Listen! In my defense this is the first time I’m meeting my boyfriend! I feel like this is warranted.” you said as you got up and made your way over to the car.

“Y/n you’re gonna have to sit in the middle seat, I’m pretty sure the other two tall bastards would die if they sat there.” Wilbur said as he checked everything up at the front.

You shuffled into the middle seat, trying your best to not get into Tommy's bubble too much as Fundy sat down next to you. The drive was relatively short, only about ten minutes, and he felt even shorter when you absentmindedly cuddled into Fundy. He happily wrapped an arm around you as he rested his head on yours.

Tommy tried to complain about being stuck in the back with you two but Wilbur derailed him and got him to go on about their trip to an arcade yesterday. If you’re honest you weren’t paying attention at all but he seemed very excited about his vlog guns and you were glad he was having fun. Sighing, you lean into Fundy just a little more and he hummed quietly, if the car ride was any longer you’re pretty sure you both would have fallen asleep like that.

When Wilbur pulled the car to a stop you both begrudgingly leaned up from each other and everyone filed out of the car. Quickly you guys made your way into the restaurant, you and Fundy ordered your pizza first, just a simple medium where it was half his favorite and half yours. After they handed you your table marker you went and sat down, you and Fundy had your own both while Niki and Wilbur had one near and Tommy sat at a table by himself.

Fundy looked at the table marker in disbelief, “OH- Y/n, y/n. Holy shit, look at what table number we have.” he looks at you, quite literally making the pog face at you, which makes you giggle.

“What is it?” you ask, trying to push your giggles down as he showed you the table marker, it was bright yellow and had 69 written on it, “YOOOOOOOOO!” you said much louder than you meant to, making him break out laughing.

“Guys- Guys, you need to see this.” Fundy insisted as he turned towards the rest of the group, presenting the 69 table marker. Everyone fell into a heavy giggle fit, laughing more at another’s laugh causing a laughing feedback loop.

You bang a fist on the table a few times, struggling to breath, why were you laughing so hard? You had no idea, but man, the serotonin it gave you was wonderful. Eventually you all calmed down, the other three going back to their conversation while you and Fundy finally calm down. Silence grew between you two, it was comfortable but you’d be lying if you didn’t want an excuse to hear your boyfriend’s voice. You dig into your mind, looking for a conversation topic for a few moments before finally finding one. "So how was the plane?" you ask him, absentmindedly putting your hand on the table to tap some random tune.

His eyes flicked to your hand, smiling a little as he recognized the tune, one of Wilbur's songs, "Terrible if I'm honest, I'm unbelievably exhausted but it's okay. I'm here with you so it doesn't bother me at all." he said softly, his eyes full of love.

Blush creeped onto your face, something about him prioritizing you always made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Before you could reply Tommy spoke up from his table, "That is the worst and cheesiest shit you could have said, you fuckin’ Simp." he was deadpanned for about two seconds before he cracked up in his bark of a laugh.

"And what about it Child Innit? You couldn't talk to someone you were interested in if you tried." Fundy retorted but his words lacked any bite to them, still it made you giggle as you heard Tommy sputter. Your friends bickering has always been the funniest and oddly coziest things.

You stop tapping the table and lean over it to lightly smack his shoulder, "Come on that was just uncalled for!" you say though a laugh, which makes him laugh.

Finally your food gets there and you both dig in, it wasn't until you took the first bite that you realized just how hungry you were. Thanks to that, the pizza didn't last long and soon the space was filled with your friend talking again. Wilbur was asking what to do next, since he really didn't have a plan, Niki suggested they go walk around town to find something to do while Tommy suggested that you all go to Wilbur's and watch Hamilton since he hadn't seen it yet.

A little to your surprise, Wilbur agreed with Tommy, mentioning how Fundy looked like he was ready to drop like a bag of cinder blocks and you had to agree with him. So once you all were fully done, Fundy paid for your pizza, Niki insisted on covering all of them but he wouldn't let her. As you all packed up to get back into the car you watched Fundy slip the table marker into his pocket, putting a finger to his lips while you both giggled. Finally, you all piled back into the car and headed to Wilbur's, which was a much shorter drive than you expected, you were much too used to America's commute times for this.

Once you were they're you all followed Wilbur up to his apartment, carefully you pulled your shoes and mask off before flopping down on his couch and getting comfortable. Fundy followed after you like a lost puppy, a little tell tale of when he got tired is that he got clingy, it was undeniably really cute. Once you sat down he sat down next to you and cuddled into you, wrapping an arm around your waist and craning his neck slightly to rest on your shoulder.

You pulled an arm up to ruffle his hair before turning and placing a soft kiss on the top of his head. He just hummed, stifling a yawn. Pulling your arm down, you turn to Niki who sat on the other end of the couch, "So how have you been Niki?" you ask, it's been a while since your last one on one conversation with her.

"Oh I've been okay!" she said happily, her eyes vaguely watching Tommy and Wilbur fight over the TV remote, "Been thinking about getting into art again, I'm not really sure yet though." she continued, trying not to laugh when she saw Wilbur basically sitting on top of Tommy, remote in hand.

A smile spread across your lips as you also tired not to laugh, mostly not to disturb your almost sleeping lover, "Oh really? That's great to hear!" you say as Tommy curses Wilbur out, insisting that he should have just let him pull Hamilton up, "I think you should go for it, especially if it makes you happy! I bet your fans, especially fanartist, would love it." you encourage her, you didn't interact with the Minecraft Youtuber fan community often, but a hunch told you that you were right.

"Maybe, maybe..." she nodded, it was hard to explain but you could tell she seemed at least a little more sure of herself now. By now Wilbur had let Tommy off of the ground as he pressed play on Hamilton. You've never seen the actual musical but you've heard all the songs enough to know them by heart, whether that was a good thing or not you couldn't tell.

Once the musical started playing the Wilbur and Tommy scrambled to the two recliners on either side of Wilbur's couch, getting comfortable for the long show. You frankly didn't watch it all that much, mostly just listening as you closed your eyes and rested your head on Fundy's. All your movements were deliberate, you were being very careful and highly aware just to make sure you didn't jolt him awake. Not that you were sure he was asleep, but you'd rather be safe than sorry.

You basically spoke it into existence because within the next five minutes you notice his breathing even out and the hand on your hip becomes loose, limp even. You silently curse to yourself as you realize just how badly this is going to hurt his neck. After debating with yourself for what you would call way to long you decide to catch Niki's attention, "Psst, Niki, Nikiiiiii," you say quietly, dragging out the second 'i' till she looks over at you, "would you mind if Fundy rested his feet, well legs- he’s fuckin’ tall- his feet would be more on the arm rest- on you? I don't want him to hurt his neck." you say gesturing to him.

She gives you a quick nod and you lightly shake Fundy's shoulder, "Hey baby, lay your head down in my lap, I don't want you hurting your neck." you whisper, he grumbles some but listens to you. Once his head is in your lap he pulls his legs to his chest and seemingly falls back asleep. Noticing this you look up at Niki and shrug, she shrugs back with a soft smile before turning back to the musical.

Carefully you run your hands through his hair and he unconsciously leans into the touch making you smile. He's a lot more fox-like than he'll ever admit but that's okay, he doesn't need to admit it for it to be cute. With your boyfriend much more comfortable you happily turn your attention to the screen, absentmindedly messing with his hair as you sing along to the songs under your breath.

When the musical ended Tommy let out a loud cheer, which caught everyone off guard and definitely made you jump which in turn made Fundy jump awake. “Oh shit- What happening?” he asked as he sat up and straightened his legs while rubbing his face.

“You passed out during one of the best musicals ever, dickhead.” Tommy replied deadpan and all Fundy replied with was a very confused and tired face. Tommy scoffed and looked away, making you laugh, how and why that boy was always so dramatic you don’t know but it was undoubtedly entertaining.

Shrugging, Fundy leaned over and placed a soft kiss on your cheek, “Hey, babe.” he said, lingering just long enough for you to place a kiss on his cheek back before leaning away again. “So what’s the plan now?” he asked, yawning.

“Well, Niki did suggest we walk around and just look for stuff to do, so why don’t we do that?” Wilbur asked, “Especially since now Fundy’s had a nap and all.” he stood up and stretched, groaning quietly.

Fundy followed after him, much to your surprise, and as he stood up he looped his arm in yours and pulled you up with him. You halfheartedly groan but don't stop him, "I'll be honest I've barely seen the ocean, let alone literally any other country." you mostly mumble, processing just how embarrassing that is to say to a bunch of Europeans.

Tommy shot up from his seat, "You've never seen the ocean??" he basically screams, getting a lighthearted smack from Wilbur, "Guys. Guys. We gotta go to the boardwalk, y/n would love it, it's considered-" he faked gagged, "-romantic."

You roll your eyes but don't argue, slightly leaning on Fundy for a few seconds before you lean up and gently place a kiss on his lips. There was a slight second of surprise on his face before it melted into a lovestruck look as he looked down at you. Your heartbeat was in your throat, that is a look you'll never get used to, a look that says you're the only person in his world, or at least the only one right now.

Before you could kiss him again Niki lightly shoulder checked you, oh shit, when did she get up? "Get your shoes on lovebirds." she said, you looked around to see the other three were basically already to go and scramble away from Fundy, your face going bright red.

You quickly make your way to your shoes, pull them on and put your mask on, and open the door for the others. The other three filed out, Wilbur waiting by the door frame and once you shut the door he locked it. “Aye, y/n, do you mind if I vlog? I’m a vlogger now!” Tommy asked as you all made your way to the street, he dramatically dragged out how he said ‘vlogger’ making you laugh a little harder than you meant to.

“Go for it big man, I don’t care if Fundy doesn’t.” You reply, threading your fingers in Fundy’s while the group starts walking, Tommy and Wilbur leading the group.

Fundy shrugged, “Since y/n’s okay with it, go crazy.” he agreed, Tommy let out a cheer and shoulder checked Wilbur just to mess with him. You can’t help but chuckle, “What’s so funny?” Fundy asks.

Waving your free hand you laugh a little more, “Oh, just seeing Will and Tommy in person reminded me how I thought they were actually brothers before we all got close.”

He looked at the two in question, squinting his eyes for a couple of seconds before he nodded, “Yeah! I see it, they definitely act like it.” he said as they burst out into a Hamilton song, Niki laughing as she joined in. Before you knew it Tommy had pulled out his phone, recording their shenanigans with a bright smile on his face.

It was all really loud and energetic so you and Fundy just quietly watched as the chaos unfolded. Tommy picked random times to start vlogging, catching half conversations and shots of the town. It all felt familiar even though you were the only one who didn’t really stream or do youtube, but it reminds you of when you just chill in their streams, mostly in the background to vibe. After a bit of wandering around you all ended up at a little food stand, getting a small snack before you went onto the boardwalk.

Once you all finished your snacks, Tommy started recording again, “I never know what I should record with these things.” he said, turning to look at Wilbur who just shrugged.

“The trick to making a good vlog is to just record everything, like just go up to people and ask ‘Hey, can I vlog?’“ Wilbur said, talking slightly with his hands.

Tommy groaned, “But then I look like a dickhead-!”

“Not if you ask!” Wilbur insisted, interrupting the teen. “Record your feet as you walk and go up to people and ask them random questions.” he continued, you watched the look on Tommy’s face turn mischievous as he turned the camera to Fundy and you.

“Hey! Fundy! What do you think of women?” Tommy asked, the phone all too close to Fundy. He stumbled for a slight second before pulling up the 69 table marker, barely holding a straight face as he tried to not laugh. “Oh- Oh my god! That is so incredibly offensive. Is that- Is that all women are to you Fundy?” Tommy asked while he cackled, causing everyone else to laugh with him. “Sexist Fundy!! Sexist Fundy and his sexist by association partner!” He joked.

That made you lose your mind, something about being sexist by association was the funniest goddamn thing you’d heard all day. You leaned onto Fundy as you struggled to breathe, instinctively you repeated the joke under your breath as you laughed which somehow sent the group into another laughing fit as Tommy tired to move on with the bit.

Eventually you all dropped the bit and happily spent the next two hours just wandering around the boardwalk and talking about whatever came to mind. Around the hour mark NIki had to leave, giving you all light hugs before she left on her own. The other hour was basically Tommy’s podcast, not that you were complaining, it was nice to listen too as the topics naturally jumped between each other and you did make sure to add your input when you felt like it was needed. It wasn’t until Tommy had gone on a long ramble about the youtube algorithm that you actually started to tune out. You swung your hand that held Fundy’s with a little bit of force, a smile in your eyes as you looked out at the ocean. “Really pretty, huh?” Fundy asked, knocking you out of your thoughts.

“Oh yeah, I’m so used to fields I never thought oceans would look this pretty...” You say quietly before you turn to Fundy and squeeze his hand in yours, “But I’d say you're still the prettiest thing I’ve seen by a long shot!” You whisper to him, your voice soft with adoration as you watch his face go red under his mask.

He quickly looked away from you, ducking his head a little, “Then you should really start investing in mirrors if you think I’m the prettiest thing.” he replied just as quietly, his voice a little unsteady. It was cute to watch him flirt, how he tended to tiptoe the line of stuttering, rarely looking you in the eyes when he said it.

Your face heats up as you tilt your head, “Oh, really?” You ask, “I feel like I nee-” you go to continue before Tommy screams, making you jump and everyone to stop in their tracks. Your head snaps in his direction as his phone starts to ring, which true to his brand his ringtone was able sisters.

The rest of you stayed mostly quiet, absentmindedly you teetered from leg to leg while you tried your best to not eavesdrop on Tommy's conversation. Which was a much harder task than you’d expect, whether Tommy had his call volume all the way up or his dad is where he gets his loud persona from and you could hear his dad say he’d be at Wilbur’s to pick him up in a little under an hour. Tommy said okay and quickly hung up, probably to avoid his dad saying anything that embarrassed him which made you chuckle. He swiped at his phone a few times before holding his phone up near his face, “Okay, we gotta finish this vlog up! Wilbur, it was nice hanging out with you and-” He turned the camera to Fundy, laughing at his annoyed look, “-and sad Fundy.” He turned to the sky in front of you guys.

Quickly, Tommy and Wilbur devolved into banter as they ended the vlog and Fundy drags you to a bench on the side of the boardwalk. “Tommy was right though,” he says quietly and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you to rest on his shoulder. “the boardwalk is pretty romantic.”

You giggle as you lean into him more, “And you’re pretty cheesy.”

“Oh, so you get to call me the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, but I don’t get to say that walking on a boardwalk with the love of my life is romantic?” Fundy grumbles but there’s no bite to it.

“Well yeah! That- Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait.” You interrupted yourself, finally processing the words he just said, you bring your hands up to his face and cup it lightly, “Fundy- Fundy did you just call me the,” you swallow thickly, it’s not a problem if did, it’s just. You weren’t expecting him to care as much as you did already, multiple past relationships had taught you that you fall too hard and too fast for others to keep up, even if they wanted to. “The love of your life?” your voice drops to a whisper, like you hadn’t been dating for five months already and he could reject you right here, right now.

Fundy couldn’t help the light chuckle that left him and he brought his free hand to rest on one you had on his face, “Of course,” his eyes soften as he watches shock and blush spread across your face, “I had fallen in love with you the first time I heard your voice and I only fall more everyday.” He rubbed his thumb on your hand, you thought you’d pass out with how your heart soared at the lovestruck look he gave you, “Hell, y/n I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen in love with you more every second of this trip.” he moved to kiss the top of your head before remembering the masks and just resting his face in your hair.

Any and all words had completely dropped out of your head, “I… I don’t know how to respond to that…'' You mumbled, moving your hands from his face to wrap your arms around his waist as you bury your face into his body.

He hummed quietly, rubbing your shoulder, “And that’s fine, I already know you love me, don’t worry.” he yawned at the end of his sentence, snuggling into you more as he closed his eyes.

“How are you still tired?” You ask in a mumbe, surprised.

Shrugging, Fundy holds in another yawn, “Maybe you should just stop feeling as comfortable as home does, then maybe I won't be so tired.” He replies, while his words held weight his voice was soft.

Lazily, your gaze fell to the horizon, then to an arguing Wilbur and Tommy, you couldn’t hear them but you could assume they were arguing over something trivial. “Never,” you reply quietly, “if feeling like home to you means I get to hold you in my arms, then I never want to change that. I can deal with a clingy sleepy Funs for the rest of my life, frankly I think it’s cute.” you can feel him tense from embarrassment under you.

He quickly relaxes and grumbles and hides his face in your hair more, “I’m going to never be tired again out of spite now.” he said, mumbled by your hair.

You can help but laugh, your entire body bouncing with it as you replied, “Yeah, sure love. Whatever you say.” As hard as he tried he can’t keep a straight face and he quickly falls into giggling with you. After a bit you both calm down, simply enjoying each other's company while you don’t have any of your friends to, albeit lovingly, bully you. Neither of you are really sure how long you sat there, but before you knew it Wilbur was shaking your shoulder.

“Get up lovebirds or the offer to my guest bedroom is void.” He said in a dead tone, if you couldn’t see him you possibly would have believed him but his eyes said the opposite.

Sighing, you wiggled your way out of Fundy’s arms and tugged him up with you, intertwining your fingers. “Oh nooo! Whatever should we do! Fundy, my love, he’s going to make us sleep outside on this cold Brighton night!” You dramatically lean on him, bringing your hand to your forehead, suppressing a smile as you watched him try not to laugh.

Wilbur smirked as he puffed out his chest and touched it with just his finger tips, “It is all going to plan! Thy shall perish by sunrise!” his voice sounded like a rich british person making it impossible for any of you to keep a straight face, Fundy was the first to double over in laughter, you and Wilbur followed close behind.

Slowly the wheezing calmed down and you all came back to your senses, wide smiles plastered onto your faces, “Wait, did Tommy leave?” You ask, frowning some.

Stretching his arms above his head, Wilbur nodded, “Yeah, his dad picked him up while you and Fundy were having your moment on the bench. He didn’t wanna interrupt you guys.” he shrugs.

You can’t help but grumble, “Damn, I at least wanted to say goodbye to him!”

Reaching over, Wilbur lightly pats your shoulder, “Ey, don’t take it personally. You know he’s a busy guy, plus you know he cares for you.”

Nodding, you lean into Fundy again as you all silently come to the decision to start walking home. It was nice to listen to Fundy and Wilbur ramble on about things together, going from DreamSMP lore, to Wilbur's new album, to Fundy's new plugins, before looping back to music as Wilbur opened his front door. You didn’t really pay attention to what they were saying, just enjoying the noise of their voices.

As you all step in you pull off your shoes and masks, moving into the living room, “You can play my keyboard if you want Fundy.” You hear Wilbur say, visibly perking up at the idea, which Wilbur noticed, snickering as moved further into his house, “Seems like y/n very interested in the idea of you serenading them with your piano skills.”

Now they’re both laughing and you’re pretty sure this is where you sign your will and accept your fate. Quietly grumbling, you bury your face in your free hand, “Both of you shut your ups, I swear to god, I’ll go sleep in the airport.” you threaten, even though you’re all aware that’s an empty threat.

Fundy just laughs, letting go of your hand to wrap an arm around you “All you had to do is ask, you know.” you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke which only made you blush more. Stupid cute boyfriend and his cute laugh and smiles and kind touches and- You pull your other hand up to your face and drag them down before pull them back up and through your hair.

You looked at Fundy with a loving but exhausted face, “You’re going to be the end of me, you know that right?” You say, only a little exasperated, you can still feel the heat on your face.

He smiled at you, it's warn, genuine, as he replied, “That’s okay, you’ll be the end to me too” he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. Smiling, you snaked your arms around him and pulled him into a kiss as he moved so that his hands so that they rested on your hips. Before you pulled apart you both could hear Wilbur yell something from his bedroom, office? Broffice. Chuckling as you finally did pull apart, Fundy pulled you to the broffice, Wilbur sat in front of his keyboard before noticing you guys and getting up.

He dragged you over with him and sat down, patting the seat for you to sit with him and you did, leaning on him lightly as he played a few short things to get used to the keyboard. It was nice to listen to, the small mistakes made you smile as you watched his hands, “Will, you should tell me where you got this, my keyboard is all wobbly. Makes playing certain songs hell.” he said, starting to play C418 Sweden.

Sighing, you close your eyes, sinking into the music and the warmth of Fundy pressed against you. Fundy switched through songs he knew carefully playing to be sure not to jostle you too much, you’re not sure when it happened but at some point you could hear Wilbur’s guitar. Quietly you hummed along while the two played, in the back of your mind all you could think about was doing this more often. Weekly would be nice, just a bunch of your friends get together and you listen to your boyfriend and best friends play.

Before you knew it Fundy was lightly shaking you awake, “Babe, come on, come with me to our room.” He says quietly. You let out a hum, letting him pull you up and along to your shared room. You hear some shuffling and zipping of bags as you halfheartedly try to rub the sleep out of your eyes. “Here, go change out of your jeans, sleeping in those isn’t exactly comfortable.” he said softly, shoving a pair of sweats and a t-shirt into your arms. You move over to the bed and set them down before stripping to change, which immediately makes Fundy squeak, “WOAH- Woah- I- Hold on!” Fundy stuttered out as he turned around.

You can’t help but giggle as you pull off your shirt, “Why are you so embarrassed? You’re my boyfriend, you know?” you tease him as you slide on the shirt he gave you, the first thing you notice is how big it is, had to be one of his shirts.

You watch him bring his hands to his face, you could see how red his ears were from here, “Well, I mean, yeah but I’m being polite.” He mumbled, ducking his head as he moved his hands to the back of his head.

Pulling off the jeans quickly before slipping on the sweats, you walk over to Fundy and loop your arms around his waist, resting your face on his back. “Okay, Mr. I’m Very Polite and Nice, I’m all changed. It’s time for bed.” You say, tugging him slightly towards the bed. He nodded and pulled himself out of your grasp, headed to the bed as he dragged you along. He flopped down and you soon followed, quickly he shuffled the blanket over you both and pulled you into his chest.

The two of you sat there quietly, relishing in each other's touch as you listened to the other’s heartbeat. It was almost overwhelming how much Fundy felt like home, how his touches brought a sense of calm you didn’t you could get to. It was weird, new, exciting even, in its own way.

Then the fact you were leaving tomorrow hit you like a ton of bricks. Your brain starts to spiral, unconsciously your grip tightens on the front of Fundy’s shirt. You feel like you can’t breathe. Your eyes blur as you feel Fundy grab your hand, steadying it- wait when did you start shaking? He rubbed soft circles on it, his other hand felt grounding on your back as you curled into him just ever so slightly more. Two days wasn't enough. One night wasn't enough. You don't know how you're going to breathe now that you've learned what it feels like to actually have him by your side. "It's not fair." you quietly grumble, the words barely comprehensible.

His grip on your shirt tightens as he places a kiss on the top of your head, "I know, I know babe..." his voice was soft as he spoke, "Let's just enjoy it while we have it."

All you can do is nod, your brain too busy trying to memorize what it felt like to have your head tucked under his chin and your arms around his waist. After a couple of cozy silent minutes Fundy started to hum a tune, you couldn't recognize it but you know he's sung it to you before. You could feel the hums in his chest, the scene felt surreal, like every other part of this day. You didn’t bother stopping the tears that pricked your eyes.

You fell asleep like that, him humming quietly and rubbing calming circles on your back. Trying your best you committed every touch to memory as you slowly faded into sleep, just barely catching Fundy whispering "I love you, y/n." as you feel into one of the most comfortable rests of your life.

When you woke up your arms and legs were entangled with Fundy’s gangly ones, his face softly tucked into the crook of your neck. You didn’t want to move and unless someone had a real good reason you weren’t going to. You’re pretty sure this is what heaven feels like, holding the love of your life close as the sun poked through the half drawn curtains making the whole situation feel all the more unreal. That moment was cut short as Fundy started to wake up, instinctively pulling away from you as he did so. You whine quietly and weakly try to pull him back, after a few seconds he listens and reburies his face in your neck.

The two of you laid there like that for a while, probably around an hour, before you begrudgingly tell him you both should get up. Fundy let out a loud groan as you slipped out of his grasp, you sat up and stretched your arms over your head, looking over at him who now laid with his arms stretched out from his body.

Wait. When did he take his shirt off? Of course you've seen him shirtless before but something about seeing it in person is fundamentally different. It felt so much more, intimate, than before. You hadn't even realized you were staring till Fundy spoke up, a laugh in his words "If your gonna stare might as well touch." his voice was low, still laced with sleep.

"Wh- I- Uh. Well. I mean-" you stutter out, looking away making him laugh more. After a few seconds you look back at him, he didn't move at all, which didn't surprise you. Silently you turn towards him, you glance up at him holding his sleepy gaze as your hand hovered over his waist. He gave you a small encouraging nod and you lightly touched him, his muscles involuntarily tense at your touch, shit your hands were cold weren’t they? You internally cringe at yourself but just as quickly as he tensed, he relaxed, letting out a quiet hum as your hand started to warm.

You felt so dumb, looking at Fundy like you were a child seeing fireworks for the first time holding the same hesitation, even as if you could burn yourself or worse, you could hurt him. Of course, you knew you wouldn’t hurt him but unfamiliarity and anxiety boiled in your stomach no matter how many times you tried to tell yourself it was okay. Looking up at Fundy you can see his face soften, a smile on his lips as he leaves you to your own devices, not wanting to interrupt whatever process you were creating.

Silently grumbling at the lack of direction and you go to place your other hand on him, only to realize just how weirdly you were positioned. You pulled away from him, earning yourself an eyebrow raise from your boyfriend which you just wave your hand at. Carefully you straddle his hips, earning a soft grunt from him but he doesn't stop you, somehow you manage to just completely blank just how close you are as you continue to run your hands over his chest.

Despite how inherently not innocent the scene looked out of context, in context it was the exact opposite. Your movements were filled with both boundless curiosity as you tried to commit the feeling of his soft, pale skin under your hands and endless hesitation as you tried not to do something wrong. "You know, you are really, really handsome..." you say quietly, it's still hard to believe you're actually able to touch him if you're honest.

Softly you cup his face, leaning down and placing soft kisses all over it, making him quietly giggle. Pecking softly at his lips before you moved on to his jaw, then his neck. It was odd, to get to this point of intimacy without there being some sort of sexual motive threw you off, but it was a much welcomed change of pace. Something about leaving light kisses on the neck and collarbone felt different when it was just reassurances of love.

As you sit up away from him he hums quietly, finally awake enough to really process what's happening. After another minute or so he sat up quickly, knocking you off balance and sending you back towards his legs. Before you hit his legs he grabbed your waist, pulling you close, the situation happened so fast that by the time you realized he was fully awake you were already in his arms, both of you giggling messes. Fundy rested his nose in the crook of your neck, you could feel the smile he wore pressed against your skin.

It was a calm and serene scene, one you hope to have again and again and again when you guys can be together more. While you were lost in thought he smirked as he blew a raspberry on your neck, making you let out a loud laugh, "WH- Wait- Hold on! I! Fu-Fundy, what the f-uck??" you struggled to ask through your laughter as he continued to assault your neck with raspberries, moving in between each one.

You pushed against him, trying and failing to get away from his attack. After multiple failed sentences, giggles, and barks of laughter he finally let you go, his face plastered in a smug but still genuinely happy grin. You wanted to ask him what that was all about but air was not being your friend so you just rested your head in his shoulder, struggling to catch your breath.

"I'm sorry, but after I let you pamper me while I was half asleep I thought I'd just keep the train rolling." he said as if he read your mind, his hands resting comfortably on your hips as he placed a kiss on your cheek. "I couldn't resist your laughter, I love it too much!" he said happily.

You let out a quiet defeated sigh, moving so now your cheek rested on his shoulder, your nose nestled in the crook of his neck. "Did Wilbur have plans for us today?" you ask quietly, part of you wished he did but another part of you is completely okay with laying in bed with Fundy till you needed to go to the airport.

Fundy thought for a moment, fingers tapping lightly on your hips, "No idea, honestly." he finally said, shrugging ever so slightly. "I should probably text him." he pulled one of his hands off of you and leaned to grab his phone off the bedside table. He moved his hand to your lower back and he leaned over you to see his phone. Melting into his touch you let out a quiet hum as you placed a hand over his heart, feeling his heartbeat through your fingertips as he typed away on his phone. You two sat like that for a few minutes before he spoke up, “Wilbur said he was gonna go get drinks with Niki, Phil, and Tristin later today, around four pm. We’re free to join but he also understands if you don’t wanna drink before your flight.”

Silently you thought, tapping your fingers lightly on his chest. On one hand it would be nice to chill out with Phil, especially since neither you or Fundy had met with him in person yet. On the other you know you, and if you were hanging around a bunch of people who were drinking you’re going to end up drinking as well. “As much as I hate to say it, I really don’t wanna drink before my flight.” You say sighing, Fundy just nods as he shoots a message back to Wilbur.

“Well since we’re gonna lay in bed all day…” Fundy started as he turned his body and flopped you both down onto your sides, both of you giggling messes. Carefully you moved your hands from his chest to his face, cupping his cheeks softly. “... You know you’re really, really pretty?” he whispered, grabbing one of your hands and placing a soft kiss on your palm.

You sputter and duck your head, trying to hide the blush on your face. “You may have told me one or two times…” You say quietly, mostly as a joke.

His head perks up, “Only once or twice?” He asked, you chuckle and continue the bit nodding. He gasped as he softly makes you look at him, he holds your face as he gives you a serious look, “You’re pretty, you are so goddamn pretty, y/n. I every fucking day think about how you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen. Any time my mind wonders it finds its way to you because- because, you just- y/n you feel like home. Whenever I’m with you, whether that’s in person or in some form of call, I feel like I should pinch myself and remind myself that I’m actually awake.” He stops for a second, taking a few breaths as your face gets redder making him chuckle slightly. “God- I am so in love with you. I- To quote you from last night: You’re going to be the end of me, you know that right?” he finishes his spiel.

You’re on cloud nine. Point blank. “Damn it, how the hell do you always know what to say?” you mumble before you snaked your arms around his neck and connect your lips. It wasn’t heated but it was passionate, full of emotions that didn’t have proper words but still needed to be communicated. Pulling apart you both were panting, only a few microseconds before you started laughing, “We are so cheesy, oh my god.” you say quietly through laughter, he joined you with a large smile on his face.

“Maybe we are cheesy, but we’re cheesy together so who cares.” he replied, placing a soft kiss on your nose.

You laughed harder, fingers messing with his hair by the nape of his neck, “You’re proving my point you fuckin’ nerd!” You basically cackled out, when you looked up the in love look in his eyes almost knocked the breath out of you. You tucked yourself under his chin, hiding your face as a hand still carded through his hair.

You two sat in bed for a few hours, scrolling through different platforms and showing each other funny or cute things. It was nice, cozy even as you fell into a simple routine, every once and a while you’d switch positions and continue with your scrolling. All too soon five pm rolled around and Fundy reluctantly brought it to your attention, “Hey love, your flight’s at eight right?” he asked quietly, you two were spooning, you as the little spoon as his chin was tucked over your shoulder.

Groaning, you nodded, “Yeah it is.” you say quietly, sinking into his touch more.

It was quiet for a few seconds before he continued, “We need to get up..” he slowly pulled away from you, making you whine but inevitably listen. Groggily, you make your way to your bag, pulling out a simple t-shirt and jeans. You stripped and Fundy did the same thing as last night, making you chuckle but you don’t say anything this time.

Once changed you walk over to him and lean up to give him a kiss on the cheek, “How mad do you think Wilbur would be if I made us some breakfast? Well, ‘breakfast’.” You asked, making air quotes around the second breakfast.

He hummed, thinking for a second before shrugging, “Probably not at all, but if he does it was my idea.” he said as he turned around and placed a kiss on your forehead, “I’m gonna shower real fast so just come knock on the door when it’s done.”

You nodded and peeled yourself off of him, making your way to the kitchen. You make some simple eggs and toast, not wanting to use too much food from your friends kitchen and when you finished fifteen minutes later Fundy was walking into the kitchen, “Aw man, you put a shirt on.” you say in faux disappointment.

He sputtered for a second before shaking his head, “We are literally about to leave and go out in public.” he said, grabbing one of the plates from the counter as he looked through the drawers for a fork.

Rolling your eyes, you lightly bump his hip with yours when he finally finds the forks, dropping the subject in favor of some comfortable silence while you both ate. Or at least partially comfortable, the fact of the plane ride still hung in the air, uncommented on but there. Fundy finished before you, placing his plate in the sink and giving you a kiss on the top of your head before heading into the guest bedroom. A few minutes later you finished your own food and you washed the dishes that you guys used, eyes falling to the stove clock: 6:30 pm. Sighing, you placed the dishes into the strainer and made your way to the guest room, “Fuuuns,” you whine more than really say, “we probably should go soon, since I wanna still say bye to Wilbur.”

He jumps at the sound of your voice, zipping up the bag in his hands on instinct, “Oh- Hey y/n!” he said quickly.

You walk over and lean on him as you look at your bag in his hands, “Whatcha up to, big man?” you asked, grabbing the bag from him.

“Oh I just, I wanted to give you something but I thought it’d be better for you to find it when you got home…” he said as you opened your bag up, smiling as you see one of his hoodies folded on the top, “I was just gonna give you one of my hoodies but it didn’t feel special enough, sooo…” he dragged out his words as you pulled out his iconic hoodie, “I gave you the hoodie.” he finished with a large smile.

Your face goes bright red as you pull it on, it smelled like him, like home, you’re too lost in the gesture to notice when Fundy pulled you close and kissed the top of your head. “You’re… You’re.” You didn’t know what words you were trying to find, you knew he loved this hoodie, he wore it all the time even, it felt weird, both very wrong and very right for you to take it, “Are you sure?” you asked quietly.

“Of course,” He hummed, “what better thing to remind you that I love you and that I’m here for you than my favorite hoodie?” you just stuttered in response and nodded, “Plus you look very cute in my clothes.” he said as he leaned away from you before he pulled you into a kiss, it took you a few seconds to kiss him back, the cogs in your brain fighting between stopping entirely and going twice the speed.

When he pulled away from you, you were breathless, “Man. I’m going to die without your kisses, what the hell…” You mumbled as you buried your face into his chest.

“Nooo, don’t die,” he replied dramatically, “if you die then how am I gonna kiss you when you come back?” he jokingly held you tightly, but a small part of you knew it wasn’t a joke, that he fully processed just how much he’s going to miss holding you.

You let out a sigh muffled by his chest, “Well, guess I’ll just live forever.” you said quietly, which made him chuckle slightly. You know it’s a joke but if you could find a way, you would. Just for Fundy. After a few seconds you reluctantly pulled yourself out of his grasp, zipping up the large hoodie before putting the backpack on.

Fundy let out a sigh as he patted his pockets, “Wilbur’s letting me drive you to the airport using his car.” He said as he pulled out Wilbur’s keys, showing them to you.

You nodded before you cupped his face and placed a soft kiss on his lips, “I love you so, so, so goddamn much, Fundy.” you whispered, placing your forehead on his.

“I love you too, y/n. And the distance between us doesn’t change that in the slightest.” he whispered back, his voice slightly shook as he spoke which made your heart hurt. Slowly he pulled away from you, grabbing your hand with his as he dragged you to the door, you both slipped on your shoes and masks before heading out to the car.

The car ride to the pub Wilbur was at with Phil and Kristin was quiet, not a bad quiet but quiet nonetheless. The radio played soft classical music as Fundy carefully drove the car through the town, you can’t tell if you’re surprised by that being Wilbur’s default station or not. Once you guys got there you quickly got out of the car, telling Fundy you’ll be back soon as you ran in and told Wilbur goodbye. It wasn’t all that much, you gave him a hug and promised to text him once your plane landed to let him know you were safe. You quickly said hi to Phil and Kristin, apologizing that you couldn’t stay longer, which they brushed off, saying that there’ll always be another time.

By the time you and Fundy were finally on your way to the airport it was a quarter past seven, the drive there was viscerally different than the drive to say bye to Wilbur. He drove with one hand, his free one resting carefully in your’s as he rubbed the back of it with his thumb. The silence was almost oppressive as you sat there but neither of you knew what to say, so you both stayed quiet. The silence stretched on into the airport, it was odd but somehow fitting. It was the first time neither of you could really bring yourself to break the silence.

Fundy eventually did, though. After you had made it through security, you two sat down on the benches waiting for them to call your flight number. It started with a laugh, a sad one, followed by a quiet apology, “I’m sorry I haven’t said anything y/n…” He basically said to himself, you’re pretty sure if you had even an ounce less of self control you’d start crying right then.

Carefully, you cupped his face, a sad smile in your eyes, “Don’t worry love. Trust me, I understand.” you replied as you rubbed your thumbs over his cheek bones. He silently nodded, wrapping his arms around your torso as he pulled you close. You moved your hands from his face and wrapped your arms around his neck, “It’ll be fine, just like Phil said to me in the pub today, ‘there’ll always be another time.’ I’ll visit again when this is all over, next time for longer.” You promise him, voice hushed so that only you two can hear it.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course, next time.” he said, it was so soft, as if he said it too loud something would curse against it. The two of you sat like that for a few minutes, enjoying the last time you’d hold each other for at least a long while. All too soon they called for your plane and reluctantly you pulled away from him. Quickly he pulled down his mask, looking at you for a long second before you do the same, softly he connected your lips, it was a slow and desperate kiss. One that knew you had to leave but so strongly wish you didn’t that you could have mistaken it for tangible.

When you pull apart, you smile at him, pressing a light kiss on his cheek before standing up, “I’ll see you soon, yeah?” you ask, fixing your mask.

He nodded, probably much more aggressively than he meant to, “Yeah, definitely.”

[nvrrmiind]

Wildflower ; Calum Hood

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: smut & swearing

Summary: The one where Calum meets a girl at a club and can't get enough of her. (Loosely based on Wildflower, iykyk)

(Read more of my work here)

***

Wildflower.

That’s what he had called you from the beginning.

His little wildflower.

You weren’t sure how to feel about it -- when he had first introduced the pet name to you -- but you grew to love the way it fell from his lips. You were his free-spirited, resilient, and beautiful wildflower.

You were both completely infatuated with one another, from the slight brushing of your lips on one another's to the passionate kisses that were shared during your intimate moments. The infatuation could be seen in every aspect of your daily lives, from his soft touches in the morning when he’d brush your hair away from your face to his strong grip on your hips when he’d have you bent over the dining room table. But most importantly, he couldn’t get enough of you.

He couldn’t get enough of the way your lips would part with gasps and how moans would slip off your tongue. He couldn’t get enough of your thighs clenching around his head when his tongue was lapping away at you and how he’d have to hold your hips down when you’d start to get close.

There was something special about you. He could feel it in every bone of his body. An undeniable connection between the two of you that he hadn’t felt with anyone else. It started from the moment he met you and only grew stronger with each interaction from there on out. From each touch, kiss, and moan of his name.

The connection started off physically. He loved exploring every inch of your body and doing things to you that no one else had done before. Of course, he was also selfish, and couldn’t deny the things you did to his body -- the way you made him feel -- doing things to him that he hadn’t achieved in a while. Because every time you fucked, you made him come, which was a feat that no other person had overcome.

It all started almost a year ago, at some shitty nightclub, with one too many sweaty people cramming their way onto the dance floor. It was opening night and he was somehow conned into coming by a group of his friends. He’d pleaded and begged them not to drag him out -- they’d just gotten off of tour and the caffeine from the afternoon was wearing off -- but there he was, with a drink in his hand. It was his third of the night but he’d barely touched it because someone had caught his eye. That someone was you, in a tight fitting dress that barely touched mid-thigh and bright red lipstick that made you stand out from the rest of the crowd.

He’d sat there watching you for the past five minutes. Watching how your hips swayed to the beat of a song he couldn’t be bothered to name. Whether it was the alcohol in his system or the slight state of delirium he was in from the lack of sleep he’d had the past two months, he decided to approach you. His drink was abandoned at a random table and he sauntered toward you, his confidence oozing with every step he took.

He hadn’t done this in a while -- approach someone else -- since he was always the one that was rejecting other’s advances. But, here he was nonetheless, with a sly smirk on his face and a haze of lust clouding his judgment. Generally, he tended to be more of a reserved guy -- the kind that observed what others did and learning from their mistakes -- so he’d face less embarrassment.

“Did you come here alone?” At this point he was behind you with his breath fanning the side of your face.

“If by alone, you mean single, then yes.” You glanced over your shoulder, taking in the parts you could see of him.

A few songs and some dirty dancing later, you were confidently leading the mystery man to the closest bathroom you could find, deciding that at this point of the night, if someone caught you fucking in the bathroom, they’d be too drunk to care. Plus, it was opening night, and there was nothing better to do than to break in the bathroom for any of the following drunk and horny pair that would fuck in there.

You watched as he locked the door, the sly smirk staying on his lips, as he took confident strides towards you. From the beginning, his overconfidence made you wet. It all started downstairs when you had first noticed him -- looking like he owned the entire space he was in. Although he paraded around with a mask of nonchalance, you could just tell that he could dominate anything he wanted -- you could tell by the way he sat and strutted around and by the bourbon he was sipping on.

“Turn around.” He demanded, coming up behind you, his hands resting on either side of you.

“I want you to be able to see what I’m about to do to you.” He continued, his left hand trailing to your neck while his right hand hiked up your dress.

“Please… fuck.” You exhaled, waiting for his fingers to dip into the place you needed him most. But he was toying with you, fingers dancing across the fabric of your panties, feeling the wet spot growing.

And when he did put his fingers inside of you, you let out a long sigh of pleasure, head rolling back onto his shoulder. You hadn’t had this kind of pleasure in awhile and had been wanting it -- needing it -- for the longest time. Your back arched when he started rubbing circles against your clit, your eyes shutting in pleasure.

“Hey, baby, the whole point of the mirror is to look at yourself, yeah?” He grabbed your chin, holding your head, your eyes meeting his in the mirror.

You felt pathetic, with your body writhing under the mere act of his fingers pumping in and out of you. But you hadn’t been touched in ages, not like this. Not by a random, hot stranger, you’d just met a club and decided to fuck in the upstairs bathroom.

“Fuck me, please.” You moaned, biting your lip.

“You want my cock inside of you that badly, huh?” You could feel his chest shake with a short laugh.

He didn’t bother to get a response from you, instead he pushed your body down onto the counter and pinned your hands behind your back. You could hear him fumble with his belt, then the sharp sound of his zipper, and god, were you ready for him. He pushed inside of you with ease, a long sigh leaving his lips.

Your cheek pressed against the cool countertop, while your nails dug into your palms, as he rocked his hips into you. He was going hard and fast and it was everything you wanted at the moment. His grip on your wrists was almost painful and you knew he’d leave a nice purple bruise on them, but you didn’t care, and it didn’t matter.

You let out a breathy moan when he stilled inside of you, completely bottoming out. Your walls were tightening around him, hips trying to create some movement that he wouldn’t allow.

“Why’d you stop?” You cried out, desperate for him.

“Beg for it.” He demanded, a smug smile adorning his perfect lips.

“Please.”

“I think you can do better than that. Tell me how much you want me.” His cool fingers found your clit, rubbing slow circles, as you squirmed below him.

“More,” You let out another moan, eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, don’t stop… God, harder, please.” You rambled. “Your cock -- I want your cock -- please. Don’t tease me like this.”

That’s all he wanted to hear, for you to sound like you needed his cock. That what he was doing to you was more than just a want, it was a need, a necessity. His hips met yours with force, moans leaving both of your lips, as you both began to reach your highs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You felt him shudder from behind you, his thrusts halting. “I’m gonna come.”

You were quick to get him off of you, and drop down to your knees, opening your mouth like the obedient girl you could be. And he came all over your tongue, just like you’d wanted. You watched as the man in front of you pulled up his pants, situating himself as best as he could, before he was helping you to your feet.

What you thought would be an awkward conversation about how to exit the bathroom and who should go first, was answered when he walked towards the door, not bothering to fix his half tucked in shirt or look back at you.

“Wait!” You called, watching as he paused in the doorway. “I never got your name.”

“Calum.”

***

It’d been a couple of weeks since your risqué clubbing experience with your mystery man, Calum. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking about it; because you had, constantly. You’d think about him in the morning while you were getting ready for work, wondering what he was eating for breakfast. You’d think about him at work, feeling your thighs clench together instinctively just from the thought of what he’d done to you. You’d think about him at night while taking a shower, letting your fingers trail to your heat, where you’d play with yourself while thinking about him.

It’d become an obsession for you — thinking about him and the things he’d done to you and could do to you in the future. You wanted to get on your knees and beg for him to let you suck him off. Desperation is what your friend would call it and you couldn’t agree more. But the way he made you feel in a quick and sloppy fuck at a random club was so much more pleasurable than anything your ex had done in the past.

However, no matter how much you’d been obsessing over him during the last two weeks, you had no way of contacting him. You had his first name and his physical description, but that wouldn’t get you far in a big city. Fate; that’s what you left it up to. If you were supposed to see him again, you would, and if not — well, you’d fantasize about his hands around your throat for another couple of weeks before returning to the dating scene.

“I’ve got a large cold brew with almond milk for cafe.” The barista set the drink onto the counter and you gave them a quick smile before going to grab your drink.

Before you had the chance to take it, somebody snatched it from the counter and started walking away. Normally you’d let it slide and awkwardly explain to the barista that someone took the wrong drink, but you were up late last night working on a project for work and desperately needed your caffeine.

“Excuse me -- sir!” You called out, hoping he’d stop so you wouldn’t have to chase him down. The man kept walking, and you let out a sigh.

“Dude, seriously. You just took my drink.” You walked toward him, getting ready to tap on his shoulder before he turned around to face you.

Mid eyeroll, you realized who was standing in front of you. The exact man you had been obsessing over, holding your drink, which you still wanted to snatch out of his hands.

“Hey — it’s you.” He let a small laugh, licking his lips.

“It’s me.” You repeated, fiddling with your fingers. “And you’ve got my drink.”

You both looked at each other, your eyes trailing between his beautifully sculpted face and his hands that were gently grasping your cold brew. Although it sounded a bit dramatic you felt like you could melt under his gaze right at that moment. He looked so good and you couldn’t pinpoint why. He was dressed in jeans and a green empathy hoodie, a simple outfit that could have you bending over the counter in the middle of the coffee shop if he were to ask you to.

“A cold brew with almond milk?” He questioned, raising the cup slightly.

“Yes.” You nodded, looking at him with a quirked brow. “That’s what I ordered.”

“That’s what I ordered.” He shook his head at you, lips turning into a slight frown.

“Well that’s good for you, I’m sure your drink is coming up shortly. But, I really need to get out of here; I have frozens in my car. So, if you would kindly give me my drink, that would be greatly appreciated.”

He stared at you for a few seconds longer, his eyes taking all of you in, inch by inch. Until finally he extended the drink towards you. “I’m only giving you my drink if you have me over for dinner tonight.”

Needless to say you had him over for dinner that night. However, dinner was long forgotten as soon as you’d stepped into your apartment. You barely had time to put away your groceries before he was backing you up against the counter and pinning you against it with his hips. There was nowhere else you’d rather be in the world at the moment, especially when you felt his hands start to creep under your shirt, rubbing soft circles into your skin. Your lips had crashed together in fiery passion, hungry to have each other.

“I want you,” you panted between breaths. “I want you to take me right here.”

Your hands were quick to work at the button on his jeans, impatient with how slow you felt things were progressing. You’d waited weeks for this, to see him again, to be able to kiss him, to have him inside of you, and his hands roaming all around your body. Slipping one of your hands into his boxers had him letting out a breathy moan as you ran your hand up and down his length. If you were being completely honest with yourself you’d be okay with finishing him off with a handjob as long as you’d be able to continue making him feel good.

Swiping your finger across his tip had him taking a sharp breath in and fingers digging into your skin. Watching your mystery man -- Calum -- slowly fall apart in front of you was a delightful sight to see; and maybe if you were lucky enough you’d be able to see it over and over. But, if you were only given a second time and not a third or fourth, you’d make do.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hips bucking into your hand. “Gonna come soon.” He continued, lips meeting yours for another heated kiss.

Without a second thought you had dropped to your knees in front of him, working his jeans and boxers to his knees. You licked a stripe up his length before taking his head in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around him. One of his hands roughly gripped your hair, tugging at your scalp, resulting in a short moan coming from your throat. You took him further in your mouth, relaxing your throat to fit all of him into you before your nose was brushing against him.

“Love when you look like this,” he started, fingers massaging at your scalp. “Love seeing my cock in your mouth, it’s been the highlight of my day.”

You stared at him expectantly, trying to swallow around him, which resulted in a twitch of his cock.

“I wanna fuck your mouth until I come. Is that okay?” He asked politely, hand cupping your cheek.

As soon as you nodded, his hand returned to your hair and his hips were quick to snap forward, bottoming out completely into your throat. He thrusted in and out of your mouth easily, getting closer with each one. His moans were soft and quiet at first, but turned into grunts the closer he came to his release. His thrusts became sloppy and you felt him twitching in your mouth. Then finally your name came out in a breathy moan as he came down your throat.

Your eyes were glassy as you looked up at him, his softening length still sitting heavy on your tongue, until you pulled away from him, a string of saliva connecting you to him. You looked so innocent as you stared up at him, big round eyes silently begging for more. Then there were your lips, which were soft and puffy, his release lingering on your tongue.

***

This happened for months -- your hookups -- and they happened in all different places and positions. You’d nearly fucked in every single square inch of both of your apartments. It was dirty, steamy, and everything you’d ever wished for. Some days it was hard and fast and you’d have bruises on your hips from his tight grip for days. But other days, you’d lazily ride him on his couch while a random sitcom was on in the background.

While the months flew by, you’d begun to see him more and more often. It started to become less about the sex and more about getting to know one another. Calum would have you over for dinner on Friday and you two would talk until the sun came up the next morning. You’d sneak in a quickie or two in there, but you’d spent most of the night getting to know one another. Filling each other in on your deepest darkest secrets. You’d delve into your family problems and he’d talk about how he felt like he was losing his passion.

But one night, while you two were rinsing off in the shower, he tugged you close and started kissing on your neck. He nipped at your earlobe and ran his fingers down your sides.

“You wanna know something?” He kissed just under your jaw.

“Hmm?” You inquired, basking in the feeling of his touch and the warm water running down your back.

“You’re the only person that’s made me come every time we’ve fucked.”

“Wait,” you furrowed your brows. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly.” Droplets of water were falling off of his eyelashes and onto his cheeks while one of his hands cupped your cheek and the other loosely gripped your throat.

“Well, hopefully I can keep my streak.” You bit back a smile before going in for a long and passionate kiss.

[thinkingoutlouddblog]

butterfly effect: one

His mouth is slightly ajar, surely shocked to be seeing the girl of his past so far from where he had left her. I myself try to compute what I am seeing, but my brain is running so fast from the adrenaline, the gravity of what is occurring hardly registers.

It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.

Word Count: 6k+

Includes: mob!h, mentions of blood, scary dudes late at night, and the set up for my favourite story I’ve ever written!

A/N: guys I am so excited about this story! I swear writing this is the only thing holding me together (so don’t let it flop lmao). It is 2AM pray for me.

My inbox is open for anyone who wants to chat about this series! I love to gab, and constructive criticism is very much appreciated. I want this to be as good as possible!!

butterfly effect masterlist // my masterlist

now

It is not until it is already too late that I realise I should have just ordered an uber.

Alex was very insistent that I order one home from my late shift at the pub. He had even offered to split the cost, knowing without needing to ask this was the cause of my hesitation. It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford it. Strictly speaking, I could. I was just keenly aware of the amount of material I could buy with the amount a late night uber in London would cost me. I would never take him up on his offer. He needed the money just as much as I did.

“It’s okay, I’m good for it,” I gave him a little smile. He was sitting in front of his mirror in his room, midway through getting ready for work. I had simply come to say goodbye before I left for my shift when he had grabbed me by the hand and demanded I ordered an uber home.

“Babe, you have to promise me.”

“I promise!” I stared exaggeratedly into his eyes as I spoke, emphasising my honesty.

In that moment, I made peace with the money I would be losing from my fabric budget. I calculated this budget, of course, by subtracting living expenses from my weekly income. My best friend wanted to make sure I got home safe, wanted the peace of mind while he was working that I would be fine. Who was I to say no to that?

“Make sure you text me when you get into the uber and once you make it up to the apartment.” My chest flooded with warmth at the love and care in his voice. It was moments like these I really sat back and thanked my lucky stars that Alex was in my life.

So, of course I was just going to bite the bullet and order the uber. Of course.

Except, well.

I couldn’t help but think how quickly I got from our place to work. We had picked the apartment just one short month ago, heavily considering the advantage of its walking distance to my work. The King’s Arms was just one block up and down the road. It was barely a fifteen-minute walk. Shorter than that if I took the shortcut down the alleyway back to our block, saving me from walking further down the road and looping back around. It would probably take me longer to get home via uber, once you account for the time spent waiting for it to arrive.

A ten-minute walk home wouldn’t kill me, surely.

The contemplation was pushed from my mind for the duration of my busy Saturday night shift. It was my least favourite shift of the week, as I spent each week chasing after middle aged men getting rowdy in the excitement of watching whatever sport was on TV. The King’s Arm was small, but it was a local favourite known for its homey pub meals, reasonably priced pints and good atmosphere. Much to my contempt they didn’t keep a large staff pool, preferring a smaller, well-trained, reliable bunch. Which was great in theory until it left me to run around like my hair is on fire on a night as busy as tonight.

I was capable of serving everyone well and in a timely manner, but it wasn’t exactly a stroll in the park. More like a seven-hour long sprint, with a half hour break in the middle.

As the final game for the night ended, the crowd slowly but surely thinned until just a couple of small groups remained.

“Hey y/n, are you okay to lock up by yourself if I head home in five?” my manager, Rachel asked me half an hour before close. “I have some time I need to take back,” she added in explanation.

“Of course, you go get out of here.” I knew she wasn’t lying when she said she had some time to take back, putting in all sorts of extra hours to keep the place in tip top shape. I liked Nicola, and I had certainly been working there long enough to handle a couple of customers and lock up by myself. Even if I didn’t like Rachel and thought she was slacking off, I couldn’t exactly argue. She was both my boss and the owner’s daughter, probably not far off becoming the owner herself.

“Are you sure?” She asked, eyeing the few men still seated, probably triple checking she didn’t think they were any kind of threat.

“Yes,” I laughed, “now scram, before I change my mind.”

“Alright if you insist,” she said, already making her way towards her bag.

“Ring me if you need anything! Good night!” She called over her shoulder as she exited through the kitchen door. The cook had gone home ten minutes earlier, the pub serving only drinks the hour before close at midnight.

“Night!” I called back.

I made quick work of what little cleaning there was left to do, and gently reminded the remaining patrons we closed in half an hour. To my surprise they were agreeable and friendly, one of them instantly assuring me, “Don’t worry love we’ll be out of your hair soon, won’t make you stay back late.”

Usually the kind of people that were in the pub this late had no care for closing time, believing that pertained simply to whenever they decided they wanted to leave.

True to his word, everyone was out with ten minutes to spare and I was able to clean their dishes and tables with the remaining time they had granted me. I locked the door to The King’s Arms at 12 o’clock on the dot and riding the high of such an easy close, took not a moment in deciding I was in fact going to walk home.

To Alex: Just ordered an uber!

I felt guilty lying, but I would rather lie than have Alex worrying over nothing. I would be home in a flash, keys secured firmly in between my knuckles the whole way. I felt far safer on the move than waiting out the front of work for an uber anyway.

I kept a fast pace, left only to debate whether I took my shortcut or stuck to the street. I checked over my shoulder, and seeing absolutely no one around, made a quick right turn into the alleyway between two buildings.

I grabbed my phone from my back pocket as I heard the ding of a text notification. I glance down at my screen, reading as I walk.

From Alex: Amazing! I should be home in a couple hours, text me when you get home safe. Love you x

I don’t register the hushed growling tones as I continue making my way down the alley, still looking down at my phone as I type a simple ‘love you’ in reply. It isn’t uncommon to hear the conversations of tenants on the lower levels of these apartment buildings as you walk down the street. Walls are thin and many windows generally left open. It is easy to consign this particular conversation among the other non-threatening city sounds until I eventually look back up from my phone.

I am immediately faced with a most unfavourable scene, under the single light that illuminates this alley, are the two men who I now recognise to be the source of the argument I had barely registered. The first man is tall, dressed in all black, thick muscles protruding through his t-shirt. He towered over the second man who contrasted him starkly in his bright red adidas tracksuit. The tall man’s presence would be dominating the space, even if he didn’t have his dark forearm pressed firmly against the smaller man’s throat.

I clamp a hand over my mouth, stopping myself from yelping stupidly and drawing attention to myself. They haven’t noticed my presence. A witness to whatever it was that was occurring here.

“See all I’m hearing is excuses, bruv,” the tall man’s accent is distinctly that of someone from South London. His tone is aggressive, but even. He knows he has the upper hand and it is clearly not his first rodeo threatening people. This is exactly the kind of person I could’ve avoided encountering by simply ordering an uber.

I snap out of my shocked daze and start to turn to make a swift and stealthy departure. I’m no fool. I know there is a definitive gang presence around here. I also know, if you leave them alone, they too shall (hopefully)leave you. All hopes of making such an exit are of course foiled as soon as my foot connects with an empty beer bottle on my first step.

The two men’s heads snap towards me instantly. I expect the shorter man to ask for help, to say something, but his mouth remains clamped shut. Gang business. He is in a bigger mess than someone like me can ever save him from. The taller man’s eyes narrow. After the briefest moments of standing there frozen, caught, I spin on my heel and run as fast as my feet can carry me.

I run back to the route I should have taken, cursing myself all the way for being naïve enough to believe that nothing bad could happen to me on something as simple as a walk home from work. That women who were raped, kidnapped and murdered from off the street were somehow removed from me. That was something only on the news in my world. Not something that was possibly about to occur.

My heart hammers in my chest as I make the split-second decision, I am safer running all the way home than running as far as I can from the scene of the crime. I’m going to run all the way up the stairs to my fifth-floor apartment, and I am going to lock the door behind me. I turn the corner back up to my block, not slowing down for a second.

I am so quick in fact, that as I come flying around the next corner towards my apartment, I nearly barrel straight into someone. He was clearly walking with some pace too, because he narrowly prevents us crashing into each other head on, but he is a second too slow in his reaction time because I trip straight over his feet. I hardly even see him, even as I am falling straight over him. All I see is brown hair and a dark suit before I’m staring straight at the pavement flying towards my face. I barely manage to throw my forearms out to break my fall as I hit the pavement at speed.

“Jesus,” the man mutters, but the only thing I can hear is my heavy breathing and my own blood pounding in my ears.

I’m on the ground now, I register for a second before my flight response kicks back in.

I don’t even feel the sting of the scrapes with the adrenaline coursing through me, already attempting to scramble up and get as far away as possible from this stranger. “I’m so sorry!” I manage to call as I pick myself and my keys up, gearing up to get moving once more.

“Honey?”

No. It absolutely could not possibly be. There was only one person on this planet who had ever called me by that name.

I stop dead in my tracks. That voice. It’s deeper than I remember but undoubtedly familiar. Familiar seems too simple a word. That voice had echoed around the halls of my brain for years. Even now, six years later, it was not gone but buried, waiting for a simple trigger to spark my memory and bring that beautiful sound back to the forefront my mind. Some days I swear I remembered it like I had just heard it moments ago.

Except now, I really had heard him.

Slowly, I turned to face him.

His mouth is slightly ajar, surely shocked to be seeing the girl of his past so far from where he had left her. I myself try to compute what I am seeing, but my brain is running so fast from the adrenaline, the gravity of what is occurring hardly registers.

It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.

Before he can verbalise any of the questions on the tip of his tongue, I grab his hand in my own, and yank him forward as I continue running home.

Realistically, I know that we now outnumber whoever it was that may be coming after me and I know even six years since I’ve last seen him, I am always safe with Harry. He proved that in many ways, and more than once, while I knew him. I was not, however, willing to risk the tall man pulling a knife on Harry. I didn’t even want to put him in a situation where it was a battle of fists. Though I did know from experience he could more than hold his own.

“What’s going on?” he yells as we run down the street, rapidly approaching the exit of the alleyway I had fled.

I gradually reduce our pace until we are speed-walking past the alleyway. Tempted as I am to see if they are still there, I keep my eyes trained forward, praying they aren’t there watching us as we pass by.

As soon as we have cleared it, I’m straight back to my running pace, forcing Harry to accelerate speed once more.

“I’ll explain inside,” I call over my shoulder in answer to his earlier question.

Now that I felt a degree safer with Harry’s presence, I had the capacity to feel thankful I had opted for a boiler suit and converse for tonight to accommodate for the Saturday night rush. This run would have been hell if I had worn a skirt and a heeled boot instead.

“Inside where?” He’s laughing as he speaks and as the fear loosens its grip on me, the déjà vu begins to battle for dominance. That laugh had brightened my every day for long enough to leave a mark on my soul. Fleeting as it was, that single sound reignited the shine it had once left.

His question was answered when we came to a screeching halt in front of my apartment. It took me two tries to input my security code correctly, my brain and hands both moving quickly, but not quite matching up. Eventually, the door clicked, and I was able to swing it open, tugging Harry in after me.

I didn’t stop dragging him along behind me until we had taken all five flights of stairs up to my apartment two at a time.

“y/n…” he attempted to grab my attention when we first entered the building, but I was not to be deterred until we had reached the absolute safety of my apartment. I shushed him, not wanting to receive a noise complaint from my new neighbours. I supposed having such a thought was a good sign, my consciousness beginning to register it was not in any imminent danger.

I huffed and puffed as we landed at the doorstep of apartment 5B, the place I loved to call home. Harry, I noticed, was barely short of breath. He had always been a runner when we were in high school. I wondered if he kept up the habit even now.

My hands shook as I located the correct key on my chain, body still shaking from the excitement of the events of the past five minutes. I struggled to align the key with the lock with my left hand, unthinking of the fact my right was still firmly in Harry’s hold.

“Let me,” he murmured, already moving his right hand to take the key. I said nothing, simply surrendering it over to him.

His hands were steady as anything as he turned the key, granting us entrance into my home. I released a breath I didn’t realise I had been holding. I finally stopped just past the door, my back to Harry as he shut it behind him. I took a few deep breaths, trying so desperately to ground myself.

Was any of this even real? The sketchy characters I could believe in a heartbeat, Harry Styles’ presence, however, was harder to grasp.

But there his hand was, in my own, even if I couldn’t see him.

Harry stood back and let me take this moment to myself, keenly aware of how much I needed it. He knew I needed to take pause and re-centre myself otherwise I would only shut down. He was also aware of my injured state though, even if I wasn’t.

“y/n, you’re bleeding.”

“Oh,” my head snapped back to look at my arm. In the rush to get home, the blood from the scrapes on my arm had run down my arm and dripped into our connected hands. I quickly released my grasp on him. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”

“A little bit of blood never hurt anyone,” he quickly dismissed. “Unless you’re the one that’s bleeding, in which case you better get cleaned up as soon as possible.

“Luckily you have me here to play nurse. Just lead the way to the nearest bathroom,” he gave me a little cheeky grin, clearly trying to lift your spirits. The subtle playfulness is not as natural as it once was, but it is certainly reminiscent of our old dynamic. The surrealism of this whole thing goes straight to my head, clouding my ability to form full, coherent thoughts.

Somehow, I manage to come out with, “I think you mean our only bathroom,” in response.

He grunts a laugh, but he hasn’t missed the use of the word our.

I walk like a zombie, leading him through the hallway past the living room and the kitchen to the bathroom. I hold my forearms up in an attempt to redirect the flow of the blood and prevent it from dripping from my fingertips onto the floor. As I slowly came out of survival mode, my awareness of the stinging of my forearms became increasingly prominent. I was sure my hip and knees were going to be bruised pretty badly too. I really hadn’t managed to slow down at all before all my momentum came crashing into the cement.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” He asks upon our arrival to the bathroom.

“Under the sink.”

My eyes trail over the mess Alex and I had left in our rush to get ready.

I tend to procrastinate getting ready for as long as possible, busying myself with just about anything else. Generally, it will be tidying up the mess I’ve made during the day, only for me to create a whole new one in my hurry to get ready for my shift on time. Alex on the other hand, always leaves plenty of time to perfect his look before leaving for the night. Despite having the time to do so, he never cleans as he goes. Leaving his many products and deliberated outfits spread far and wide. Luckily most of his mess was confined to his bedroom, the only trace of him in the bathroom skincare and hair products (though there wasn’t a limited amount of those, either).

“I’m sorry for the mess,” I speak quietly watching Harry get his bearings, standing helplessly as I bled, hands still raised.

“Nonsense,” he doesn’t look at me as he speaks, jumping into action.

Harry turns the faucet on in the sink before opening the cupboard door and grabbing the first aid kid out. It was actually sort of a miracle Alex and I had one. It had been on a list of “Things You Need for a New Apartment” I had googled, scared we were missing important things. At the time, I had deliberated longer than necessary over whether to get one. I couldn’t remember the last time I had required anything more than a band aid for any given ailment. The deciding factor had been the memory of Alex getting into a couple of scrapes while out over the years. It had never been anything major, the worst injury he ever sustained being a bruised jaw, but it was better to be safe than sorry, I decided.

Turns out, that decision was for the best.

He gently touches his fingertips to my right arm, which had copped the brunt of it. With the softest touch, he delicately guided my arm under the stream of water. As I stepped forward to lean over the sink and wash away the dirt of the footpath, he stepped backwards, giving me my space.

I winced at the initial contact of the water as it ran red. I risked a glance at my reflection. Sweaty brow, the light lazy work makeup I had applied half off my face. I quickly diverted my gaze back to my injured arm. This was not exactly how I pictured our reunion. I had hardly ever even pictured it, I was so sure that I would never see Harry again.

I wondered if this silence was as heavy as I thought it was. Everything about him felt so familiar, yet so different. Up until this moment it felt like being in the presence of a friend, but now I realised, he was closer to a stranger.

I knew the person he once was, a sweet but fucked up kid who had been forced to become a man too early. Someone who had his walls a mile high around almost everyone. Almost. The boy who painted his nails on lunch breaks and was friends with everyone but somehow also no one. Until he was friends with me. Then he was the boy who always sat to my left from the first bell of the school day to the last. Back then, I knew him from the inside out, just as he knew me.

He was my greatest joy of those years. Then he was my greatest heartbreak. Now, he was just some guy I used to know who I had plucked straight up off the street, looking very out of place in what was clearly a designer suit in my tiny apartment.

He looked through the first aid kit as I ensured the entirety of the scrape was rinsed. It extended most of the way from my elbow to my wrist, but more pressingly in my mind, it now stung like a bitch. Once the water rain clear as it ran off my arm, I moved onto the much smaller and shallower scrape on my left elbow, working quickly to get it clean.

Most of the bleeding had stopped, only a few spots on my right arm still dotting with blood. I leaned over the sink to prevent the water from dripping onto the floor.

I cleared my throat, nervous to break the silence.

“Can you please grab me that towel?” I nodded my head towards the black hand towel hung behind Harry.

His eyes snapped upwards from the first aid kit he had been busying himself with. I was sure he had been surveying it more thoroughly than strictly necessary, trying to detract from the awkward energy which had crept up on us. We made brief eye contact through the mirror. My breath caught in my throat. The moment was over as soon as it began as he turned wordlessly to grab the towel.

He holds it in his hand, hesitating before handing it over, “Did you want me to…?” he trails off, growing awkward in his offer. He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. She barely knows you, back off, he tells himself.

“No that’s okay,” I speak gently, and he quickly passes the towel to me. I get to work patting my arms down delicately.

“Thank you though,” I add, hating the unsure look on his face. I meet his eye, giving him a smile I hope is reassuring.

“Okay, let’s get you sitting down so I can fix you up,” he returns your smile with a slight upturn of the right side of his mouth.

I relocate to the little dining table Alex and I had bought at Ikea just a week prior. Harry isn’t far behind, washing his hands before joining me to tend to my wounds. He lays out everything he is going to need from the first aid kit before holding his hand out. Like an idiot, I stare at his hand without moving for a beat too long before jerkily offering my right arm up.

He laughs silently as he turns my arm over, analysing it carefully.

“So, do you often go for runs at midnight?” He asks as he unscrews the lid on the Vaseline.

“Yeah all the time. I just don’t normally take people from the street with me.”

“Is that all I am? A person on the street?” He tries to keep his tone light, but I can tell he was hurt by my choice of words.

I expect to feel guilty, but a burst of anger I thought I had long gotten over flares in my chest. It isn’t as red hot and overwhelming as it had been years before – I’d definitely had my fair share of time to cool off – but I’m still surprised by the sting of it.

He was the one that made himself a stranger to me, and now he’s upset when I’m stating the fact that he made a reality.

Despite myself, I tried not to come across too harshly in my response. I was never one for confrontation.

“I mean, I haven’t heard from you in six years.”

He is very careful not to lift his eyes from my injuries as he carefully applies the petroleum jelly. I stare down at him, desperate to catch his eye.

There’s a pause as I wait for him to offer some kind of explanation. Some perfectly good reason why my best friend and first love left town without telling me why, or where he was going, and then never contacted me again.

When he doesn’t fill the silence, I sigh as quietly as I can manage. You don’t really know him, I remind myself. I practically kidnapped him, I can’t just go asking him to rehash history. It was so clear that he was what he had wanted me to be. History.

“I just mean, I don’t really know you anymore. I’m sorry I grabbed you like that, I just,” I hissed at the sting of his first aid, “I was walking home from work and I saw these really sketchy looking guys.”

“Sketchy looking?” He finally looked up at me, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Well I guess they didn’t really look sketchy in their appearance particularly, it was more the fact that one of them was practically choking the other. They were arguing over something. I think it was something to do with some of the gangs around here,” I attempted a nonchalant tone, not wanting to worry him. The less phased I seemed, the better. I had caused him enough trouble. The only thing that was probably stopping him from running for the hills and never looking back (again) was guilt.

I go on to explain how I’d kicked that stupid beer bottle and taken off running, “which is when I ran into you. I’m really sorry about that, by the way. I’m so glad I didn’t take you down with me I think I would’ve died of a mix of guilt and embarrassment right then and there.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Ho-“he cut himself before his mouth could form that name he had so affectionately given you. “I’m the one who feels guilty, if not for my big, slow feet you wouldn’t have bit the dust.” I laugh at his turn of phrase.

His face suddenly grows serious. “Your head is okay, right?”

Instinctively, my left hand shoots up to the back of my head, ghosting over the slight bump hidden under my hair. The scar tissue was ever so minimally raised, only perceptible to a knowing touch. I retract my hand bashfully, slightly embarrassed by my knee jerk reaction.

“It’s fine,” I match his serious tone, before lightening it up, “as you can see, I managed to break most of my fall,” I gesture to my right arm he has paused work on.

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, discerning whether he thinks I am downplaying anything. He picks up the dressing, moving onto the next phase of his treatment plan.

“And they don’t feel broken? You can move your wrists okay without too much pain?”

My heart swells at his concern. I stamp out the small joy as soon as it flared up. It’s guilt that’s fuelling him. Nothing else.

I shake my head no. He looks up once more, having missed the gesture in his concentration. “Sorry! No. All bumps and bruises. I’m fine honestly, I probably majorly overexaggerated the whole thing and freaked out for nothing. I’m really sorry about all this, its so late at night.”

“Don’t apologise,” he says firmly. “It’s not your fault and you did exactly the right thing by making a break fo’ it. You never know what could’ve happened. Ya’ know. Out late. By yourself. In the dark.”

My face burned red with shame, but also defiance. I knew what I did was stupid and extremely risky, but I also didn’t think I needed a lecture about it in this moment. The fear still coursing through me and my scraped-up arms were surely lesson enough.

“I could say the same thing to you,” I countered.

We both knew my argument didn’t hold up very well. He was a man out alone at night. There was obviously a risk there, but it wasn’t the same.

We also both knew, I wasn’t really trying to start a debate. Just signalling to him I didn’t want to get into it and wanted to move on.

“I was walking to the tube from a mate’s place,” he explained simply, letting me off the hook.

He had begun to tape the dressing down to my skin, securing it safely. He worked expertly. Even if I didn’t already know, I would have said this was one of many times he had done some at home first aid.

“In a designer suit?” I questioned. There were two things I was asking, but also not saying. Was this the kind of ‘mate’ you wine and dine before going home with them? And what happened to that poor kid from Holmes Chapel I once knew?

“I came straight from work.”

Jesus he wasn’t giving me a lot to work with in the way of details.

“Oh,” I say lamely, not wanting to pry. As much as I could tell myself (and him) that I didn’t really know him anymore and he was basically a stranger, it still hurt to be treated like one. We used to be so open with one another. The one thing I ever kept from him was how I truly felt about him.

“I work in finance,” he offers up after a beat of silence. “It uh- I’m pretty lucky to have the job I do,” he alludes to his financial standing, obviously wanting to acknowledge the contrast comparative to how I knew him. A boy not even of eighteen, fending for himself while trying to complete his high school education.

My face practically split in two with the size of the smile on my face at his words. “I’m so happy for you, Harry,” I say, hoping he can see how genuinely I mean it.

“Thank you.”

“Are you happy, H?” The question slips out before I can stop it. Internally, I kick myself. Externally, I try to keep my face neutral, yet interested. That’s a perfectly normal question to ask. Totally.

“Um,” he switches to my left elbow, making quicker work of the smaller wound. “I think so. In my experience you never realise how happy you are until you aren’t. But still, I think I am.”

“Good,” I say firmly. “I’m glad.”

“What about you?” He turns the questioning back on you. “What’s your story?”

“Oh, you know. The sad story of the girl chasing a dream,” I nodded my head towards the sewing machine stationed at the other end of the table.

“Don’t say that!” His tone jests, but he is serious as he speaks. “I think it would be far sadder if I discovered that your talent was going to waste. I’m really glad to hear that actually,” he half says the last sentence to himself, concentrating on fixing his dressing properly on the more difficult angle of my elbow.

“There you go,” he gleams as he admires his handy work. “Good as new.”

“Thank you so much, Harry. I’m so sorry for all this-“

“Not your fault,” he quickly dismisses.

“Even so, I’m sorry for all the trouble. I’ll pay for an uber home for you or something,” I try to come up with something to offer him that can even begin to repay him for his help.

“Are you going to be okay by yourself?” His brow creases in concern.

“Oh, Alex should be-“ I smack a hand over my mouth, realising I never texted him to let him know I had gotten home okay.

“Oh fuck,” I remove my hand from my mouth. I gingerly fish my phone out of my back pocket, muscles beginning to protest, the impact of that fall settling in.

Four missed calls and a flurry of text messages. My phone had automatically turned onto ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode as scheduled at 12:30. I hadn’t been notified of any of it and he had definitely assumed the worst.

“Is everything okay?”

“I forgot to text him and let him know I made it home okay,” I don’t look up as I speak, opening our text chat.

From Alex: I’m coming home

Received ten minutes ago.

“Your boyfriend?” He questioned, keeping his face impassive. That had my head shooting up.

“Uh-“ I began, but cut myself off as the unmistakeable sound of heeled feet running up the stairs to our apartment ran out loud and clear.

Shit.

Before I could even think what to say next, Alex’s key was in the lock. The door swung open, smacking the wall with the force of it.

Both Harry and Alex’s brows hit their bloody hairline I swear. Or more accurately, Lexie’s.

There my best friend and roommate stood, in full drag, light catching the sequins of the pink mini-dress I had sewn myself. If I weren’t standing there with the guiltiest expression of my life, I would be thinking about how stunning she looked.

Harry looked between the two of you, as Lexie did the same. Both trying to catch their brains up to what they were seeing. I myself was at a loss for words. I probably should have started with, “Lex, I am so sorry,” but Harry broke the silence first.

“Wow, you look amazing,” he breathed, transfixed by the look Lexie had created. Drag was an art form, and she was quite the artist. He was not the first to become enchanted upon first look, and he certainly would not be the last.

Lexie narrowed her eyes at Harry, jaw falling slightly open at the audacity of the acknowledgement in this moment. She had little patience for besotted strangers in moments like this. Her narrowed eyes moved to mine, face filling with rage.

“Lex-“ I begin, but am cut off for what seems to be the millionth time tonight with the simple raise of her hand. The close of my mouth is instant. I was not about to make this any worse.

“Bitch, if you do not have a very good explanation for this,” she breathes deeply, trying to gain her composure, “I am going to fucking kill you.”

                                   ********

As soon as he is out of your apartment and onto the street, his phone is in his hand. Fingers not able to press to type the message fast enough for his liking.

From Harry: We need to talk. I saw her.

As soon as the message was delivered, he was returning the calls he had silenced in y/n’s presence. The moment she had turned her back and left him to wash his hands, he had turned his phone to airplane mode.

“Jesus Christ bruv, I thought you were dead,” Michael joked as soon as he picked up.

The two of them had parted ways for what should’ve been five or ten minutes. Harry hadn’t seen it happen, just heard the clatter of the beer bottle as it skated along the ground and the screeching halt in the argument. He had been waiting patiently for Michael to finish working in the shadowy doorway to the side. He hadn’t seen a thing, and he was sure from his concealed position, whoever had seen Mike hadn’t seen him. So, he obligingly offered to take a walk, ensure she hadn’t gone calling the police.

He had just been bored. Ready to go home and have a drink with Michael so he could have a bitch and a moan about work. It always left him feeling better when he returned on Monday. He was killing time, that was all. He hadn’t expected to stumble over the girl who had changed everything.

Harry didn’t take time to explain his extended absence, moving straight along to what he had called for. Just like Mike, he preferred to skip the pleasantries.

“I need you to subtly divert as much traffic from this block as possible,” he didn’t ask. He never asked. It was always an instruction with him. In this business, asking nicely didn’t exactly lend itself to going far.

“What’s this about?” Harry gritted his teeth. He did not enjoy having his authority questioned. The only reason Michael would get away with it was because of their pre-existing friendship. Even then. Harry was not exactly in a forgiving mood. Made all the worse when Mike added, “This isn’t about that girl from the alley is it?”

Michael had his answer when Harry said only, “Get it done or I’ll have your fookin’ head.”

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