#not sure if i should contact support? it was only happening today

[leezuhh]

is anyone else's dash not working???

[sweetkpopmusings]

hongjoong coworker headcanons <3

a/n: a whole bunch of people got laid off at my company today, so it only seems right that i cope by escaping into thoughts of coworker!ateez <3 please enjoy the precious gem that is coworker!hongjoong :,-) pics not mine~

content: fluff, nonidol!au | wc: 1k | warnings: none really! one mention of food | pairing: coworker!hongjoong x gn!reader | requests: open

everyone, and i mean absolutely everyone, wants to be mentored by hongjoong

they don’t care if they aren’t even in the same department as hongjoong

they just KNOW that he is the best ally and support system to have in the office

everyone also says his face is a workplace perk most people are too scared to say thing within earshot of hongjoong lmao

hongjoong knows everything people say about him, but he doesn’t let on

instead, he simply does his job and minds his business

things change when you start working at the company

you were hired in not only the same department, but same team as hongjoong

so your supervisor assigned hongjoong as your mentor

hongjoong, ever the professional, happily accepts and promises to train you well, so you can succeed in your new role

this all happens before you have a chance to learn hongjoong’s lore at the office

so you are wildly confused by the shocked and jealous stares from your coworkers as hongjoong walks you to your desk

it also feels suspicious that seemingly everybody is walking by your desk while hongjoong gives you a brief introduction to workflows, programs, etc.

but you, like hongjoong, are just trying to mind your business and do your job

which is actually super easy because hongjoong knows every single hack, automation, etc that means you can get your work done without being slowed down by tedious tasks

he’s a genius but so casual about it that you’re just sitting there like :-0 ??? how does he know everything ???

he chuckles when he sees your face and assures you that it’s just because he’s been there for ages and that soon enough you’ll be exactly the same way

you doubt it but appreciate his confidence in you LOL

at the end of your first week, hongjoong offers to take you to lunch

he says your boss is paying for it because it is “team bonding” so you agree 

what you didn’t know was that this team bonding would include hongjoong spilling ALL the tea in the office

he wasn’t gossiping in a cruel way, but he felt it was his duty, as your mentor, to give context on all the looks you were receiving

hongjoong finds it hilarious and adorable when you look at him with an absolutely shocked face

he just sits back while it sinks in for you, and, based on your reaction, hongjoong knows for sure that he finally has a friend in the office

he can tell that you won’t treat him like he’s different, which is a massive relief for him

so, from that day on, he makes it his mission to be both an amazing mentor AND a good friend

he stops by your desk for little check-ins and spends his breaks with you, whether sipping on coffee or walking around outside

hongjoong remembers everything you tell him about your life like he’s an incredible listener

you joke that it’s creepy he pays SO much attention to every detail you share and he says his resume didn’t say “detailed-oriented” for nothing

that is the moment you realize he is a complete dork LOL

speaking of dorky hongjoong

whenever he offers you a “cheer up!” or “you’ve got this!” it feels so much like a proud parent cheering on their child

he complains when you say this because “at least i should be an older brother but a DAD?!?!”

hongjoong is sulky but that goes away as soon as you buy him his favorite drink

you also changed his contact to “dad” but he doesn’t need to know that <3

he isn’t beating the dad/older brother allegations any time soon because he nags you once he gets comfortable with you 

it’s always with a smile on his face and full of care

but he will nag you about keeping your desk clean, using better handwriting, making your presentations more stylistic, etc

like sorry when did he become a judge instead of a mentor ???

it’s okay though because he lets you return the favor by nagging him constantly <3

hongjoong pretends not to like it when you nag him, but it fills his heart because that means you’re comfortable with him too :,-)

it also adds to everyone’s jealousy because you two are CLEARLY close and hongjoong finds their envy ridiculous and hilarious 

he definitely brags about how close you two are like he thinks you’re incredible and that everyone should be jealous they don’t know you like he does

somehow dating rumors start of course and when asked about it, you and hongjoong always reply with “wouldn’t you like to know”

hongjoong made you promise to give that answer because he thinks it’s fun to mess with everyone LMAO

he has so much fun with you that, to show his appreciation, hongjoong gets you a gift for your one-year anniversary at the company, including a handwritten note

he makes you promise not to open it while he’s with you because he doesn’t want either of you to feel awkward

later, once you read the note, you understand exactly why he requested this

the note starts with him praising your work ethic and improvement because he’s a proud mentor :,-)

at the end, he confesses that, before you started working there, he felt pretty isolated

it was like he was on an island or in a fish bowl, being watched from afar by everyone else

after that first lunch, and the many, many conversations you shared afterward, hongjoong finally felt like he belonged there

you made hongjoong feel like he belonged

that was something he was immensely grateful for, so he promised to pay you back by supporting you as a coworker and person, so you never felt like you were alone or an outsider

hongjoong tries to play it off the next time he sees you, but the sparkle in his eye when you thank him for being such a good colleague and friend reveals just how much he cherishes you in the workplace and beyond <333

[hannieehaee]

DOES HE KNOW ? (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: after being friends with lee chan for a good portion of your life, the boy you considered nothing but your best friend suddenly starts acting different, making you slowly fall for him. problem is, you have a boyfriend.

content: friends2lovers!chan, reader has a bf, almost cheating but not actually, afab reader, smut, oral (f receiving), wet dream (this is actually a huge point in the plot lol), masturbation (f receiving), dry humping, more oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1k (teaser); 9.8k (full fic)

release date: april 17th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: rewrote this so many times but finally finished it!! i love writing channie so i hope u guys enjoy<3

masterlist

support me through a one time tip<3

Something was clearly wrong with you.

Was Lee Chan hot?

Nothing made sense anymore, and it had been the case for a while.

You could date it back to some months ago, at one of Soonyoung's usual gatherings. This had been where it all began, or more so, where it all ended.

For some reason unknown to man, that was the day in which Chan began courting you (his words, not yours).

After years of a solid friendship between the two of you, a not-so tipsy Chan cornered you at aforementioned party and began dancing with you. This was a common occurrence between the two of you. Despite having been taken for the past few months, you were still quite liberal about your touchy relationship with your best friend. However, what happened next what was truly out of the ordinary.

"Hey," he had whispered against your ear.

"Yeah?", you giggled, entertained by the boy.

"Wanna know a secret?"

"Sure."

"I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you," and with that, the dam had broken.

You froze against his arms, eyes widening. Though he could not see, as you were holding each other far too close to make eye contact.

Maybe he was drunk?

He interrupted you before you could respond. Chan pulled away from you to look into your eyes with a fully sober look in his face.

"I'm not drunk, and I know you have a boyfriend. And I know you only see me as a friend. But give me a few weeks, and I'll change both those things," was the last thing he said before giving you a peck on the cheek (yet another common thing in your relationship) and walking away with a confident sway in his step.

Ever since then, you had been bombarded by romantic gestures from your former best friend – former because you truly had no idea how you felt about him by this point.

Chan bought you flowers, – even when it was raining – had your favorite beverage at hand any time you so happened to see him, tied your shoelaces should they ever come undone, plucked loose eyelashes from your cheeks, tucked your hair behind your ear, placed his hand at the small of your back before crossing a street, walked you to and from home, looked at you with an indescribable sweetness in his eye, he ... He did everything any girl would need to be completely swooned (and then some).

You were beyond confused as to when this change had come about. As far as you knew, you were nothing more than best friends. When had Chan even begun liking you? What had changed?

"Oh. He's always had a thing for you," was what your mutual friend Soonyoung said when you first brought it up.

"What do you mean? We've been friends for years, he's never-"

"Yeah, duh. You never showed interest, what was he supposed to do? But yeah, he's crazy about you," added Seungkwan, sipping his drink nonchalantly.

You had decided to meet up with some of your mutual friends while Chan was at work. You needed at least five minutes with your other friends without Chan getting in the way with his flirting.

"It's kinda sick, actually," interjected Soonyoung once more.

You remained quiet for a while, thinking back to every interaction you'd ever had with Chan that may have revealed his feelings for you. Unfortunately, you kept drawing blanks all the while Soonyoung stole fries from your plate, disregarding your confusion at the situation.

"But why now?", you finally asked, slapping his meddling hand away from your food.

He shrugged, "Maybe he got fed up of watching you with that guy."

"He has a name, Soonyou-"

"None of us really care enough to learn it."

That much was true. None of your friends were fans of your current boyfriend. Or of any of them, to be quite frank. You had certain lack of skill at picking them, though this time around you felt confident about your current relationship. He was nice and respectful. Maybe a little bit of a square, but you liked to think you brought out the fun in him. This was also the longest relationship you'd ever had, giving you the grand total of three months in a exclusive relationship and a month and a half of a very prolonged talking stage that took place before he ever asked you out officially.

"Is this because I've been taken for longer than usual?", you tried to assert.

"Oh! That might be it, huh?", Soonyoung agreed.

"Well, I guess he didn't want you to break your streak of failed relationships," chuckled Kwan.

With a slap to his chest, you dropped the subject, deciding to ignore the slight acceleration of your heart any time you thought about Chan's crush for too long.

At first you found it to be a bit of a joke, but his affections quickly began to wear you down. It also didn't help how blatant he was about it, constantly flirting up a storm around your friends, not caring for their amused smiles at your flustered half-rejections of his advances. The only times in which he held back were the rare occasions in which your boyfriend would join your friend group in their outings. He could be reserved at times, not really clicking with your loud friends, so his presence was not a common thing.

Being honest, you felt kind of bad at the genuine excitement Chan's crush gave you. Though you weren't sure of your feelings for him at this point, his interest flustered you tremendously. You'd always known him as a pretty and charming guy, despite never really acknowledging such things. You understood why he got so much attention from girls, though you never thought too much of it. He was your best friend, you never had any motive to consider anything further than platonic feelings for him. But now that you were questioning your feelings, you felt as if you were kind of betraying your boyfriend.

Not to misunderstand, you had no desire of pursuing anything with anyone while you were in a committed relationship. You were just not that kind of person. But the mere thought of blushing at the words of a guy who wasn't yours (all while actually having a guy of your own) made you feel ashamed. Specially considering that you already had a very grand preexisting fondness for the guy in question.

God damn you, Lee Chan.

...

read today on ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one<3

[notjustjavierpena]

Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia: Chapter II

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: I'm so sorry for the very long wait. I ended up separating the chapter into two parts because it ended up being 13k. Hope you can forgive me!

Chapter Summary: In which you get married to the General. 

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Chapter warnings: +18, arranged marriage, historical sexism, probably historical inaccuracies, large age gap, religion in the form of Roman Gods, shitty parents, anxieties over wedding night

Word count: 5k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57443332/chapters/151335016#workskin

Chapter II: A wonderful day for a wedding

Due to the warm night, it doesn’t surprise you when dawn brings the most beautiful sunrise all year. The landscape outside is bathed in gold and when you gently guide a lost bee out of your bedroom window, you feel the warmth of the sunshine prickle your skin.

You have a great deal to do before the carriage ride to the Acacius estate, so you hurry through breakfast - bread and cheese with herbs - to make sure there are enough hours in the morning for your bath, your grooming, and your dress preparations. 

You gently wash off the sweat and sleep from last night by rubbing slow circles down your arms, legs, and chest with a piece of soaked cloth. The excitement pools in your belly as you focus on the dream wedding belonging to the little girl in your heart happening today. The fact that it is arranged by your parents doesn’t diminish the fact that your tunic is beautiful and the festivities will be worthy of the Gods. You have no tears and concerns for Cassius left, you say to yourself, or at least, you’re not allowing yourself to have any left. 

“A perfect day for a wedding,” your mother says as she brings you more water for your bath instead of the maids, pouring the freshly hot water into the tub by your feet. Afterward, she moves to sit on a chair behind you to wash your hair. 

“Mother,” you say while she tilts your head forward, pouring water over the back of your neck, “I want jasmine flowers in the wedding crown, can we please have a maid pick some from the garden? Marcus— I mean, General Acacius will be impressed if I remember our conversation from yesterday.” 

The warm water feels soothing as it cascades down your shoulders, even more soothing is your mother’s fingers detangling your hair with practiced care. You spot her in the full-body mirror along the wall, her face sporting an affectionate smile, “Jasmine is his favorite? The General told you this? He must like you, my daughter.” 

“Mother, we barely know each other,” you let out a little laugh and turn your head back to look up at her. She grins down at you, smoothing her palm over your wet hair to squeeze out some excess water.

“Yet you already care what he thinks,” she points out with a slight hint of teasing. You splash a few drops of water in her direction and she acts outraged in only the way a mother can. The both of you laugh, the bubbling feeling warm in your chest until you also feel melancholic. The feeling that you should have had last night comes creeping up on you now.

“I’m gonna miss you and father,” you say softly and she wraps her arms around you from behind, not caring about getting her clothes wet if it means squeezing you enough to make you feel how much she loves you.

“I’ve been through this two times already. You know we still see both of your sisters. I am not sending you off to another country,” she soothes, rocking you from side to side and pecking the top of your head. You reach up to hold her wrist. 

“I know this but I’m the last bird leaving the nest,” you reply with eye contact in the mirror, corners of your mouth turning downward. You sigh quietly. 

“And father and I will finally be able to have some peace around here,” she tries to make you laugh again. When it doesn’t happen, the tone of her voice changes into something more serious, “I know everything feels safe and familiar here but you will grow to love your new life. Change is good.”

“I still feel like a child,” you lean back into her and stare down at the water that is growing colder, “You should have seen me trying to have a conversation with him yesterday. He is much older and more experienced than I am. I made a fool of myself not just once.”

“Listen to me, dearest,” she releases you from the confines of her arms and lifts your head to find your gaze in the mirror again, “I know that this is not a matter of love. I understand, my dear. This union is a great responsibility, but it can also be an even greater source of joy and strength for you. Your father and I have always wanted what’s best for you, even in situations where it might seem like it is only to our own advantage. Yet think about the possibilities this match will bring you; you will be the wife of a general. You can do anything.”

You nod with an understanding that is still marked by sorrow for the life you will leave behind, the dream of true love delivered by Cupid himself that will not be fulfilled now, “Yes, Mother.”

“And I will say this with confidence,” she continues, now with a gleam of pride in her eyes, “You are not a child, in fact, you have grown into a remarkable young woman. One that you can be very proud of. I know I am.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth and eventually, you cannot hold back the breath of air that you have been holding. Your eyes are watery, your mouth grinning with teeth from being reassured so affectionately by your mother. You suppose that you can get through this day with those words playing on your mind, “You had that rehearsed, did you not?”

“Not at all, came straight from the heart,” she giggles and gets up from her seat. She walks to stand at your side, offering you her hand, “Now, let’s get you out of the tub and make you more beautiful than even Goddess Venus herself. Today is a celebration of everything you’ve become and everything you will achieve with your husband. However, remember that General Acacius is even more fortunate to have you and your heart by his side.”

“Thank you, Mother,” you say as she helps you to your feet, holding you steady as you step over the edge of the bathtub. 

She wraps a linen cloth around you, “I’ll send for the flowers right away. The tailor has already been with your tunic this morning, I’ve had the maids hang it in your room.” 

“Perfect,” you smile. You leave the bathroom while another ancilla - a maid - empties the tub, hangs the linen towel to dry, and mops excess water from the floor. 

As you make your way back to your bedroom, you notice your home is abuzz with servants doing all sorts of tasks to ensure a perfect day. They pass you with kind smiles and congratulations, carrying wine in jugs and baskets of fruit and vegetables, freshly baked bread, and flowers for decorating. 

You think back to Marcus’ beautiful garden, wondering how it is taking shape to be the venue for your union. The red roses are sure to compliment your red veil, the marble the golden embroidery on your tunic too. 

But then, as you enter your room, you think about Cassius’ words from last night. In less than a day, you will belong to one of the most powerful families in all of the empire and despite this, it sounded like it did not ensure you the safety that your father had foreseen with this match. Quite the contrary, it seems like you are getting into something that’ll wash the pink and fluffy clouds away. 

However, the concerned thoughts last only a moment as your gaze falls on the beautiful tunic hanging on the wall, just out of the sun’s rays. You smile and sigh, brushing the woven fabric delicately with your hand. It is long and white, embroidered with squared patterns along the shoulder seams and down the short sleeves. You know that Marcus’ own attire will have the same stitching and color, signaling that the two of you are weaved together from now on. 

The veil hangs beside it and is as red as the fires that you have seen built for sacrifices to the Gods. Your mother has taught you enough during wedding preparations for you to know exactly what it is supposed to symbolize; you will be given to General Acacius today and you will belong to him in the same manner as the many gifts that have been given to the many Roman deities, like the coin you tossed in the fountain for Fortuna. 

After taking the tunic off the hook on the wall, you let the linen around your body fall to the floor and slip your wedding attire on. You sit down on the chair by your vanity and gaze at your reflection in the mirror, staring at the woman you have become in such a short time.

You adjust the neckline of the garment, smoothing out any crease that makes you seem less than perfect and then you grab your hairbrush to start detangling your hair. After having brushed your hair for a while and getting lost in the mindless task, a knock on your door distracts your thoughts. 

You quickly get up to hurriedly step behind the room divider in the corner, not wanting to reveal your look before it has gotten its final touches or in case the person seeking entry is your father. 

“Come in,” you say when you are hidden from view. 

However, it is your mother again who carries the wedding crown, which has now gotten beautiful jasmine flowers weaved into it. From the sound of the different footsteps, you deduce that she is followed by two servant girls who have come to help you with the remaining details of your outfit.

“I brought Lupa and Nidia to help you,” she chirps, hands the wedding crown to Lupa with the utmost care, and then gently sits down on the chair by the vanity. She waits as the girls join you behind the screen, “Quickly now, we have to be ready to go in half an hour.”

Nidia has gotten the veil from its spot on the wall, now draping it over the top of your head while Lupa secures it with the flower crown. You can smell the jasmine, feel the soft fabric of the red veil brush your bare arms, and suddenly, the weight of today begins to bear down on your shoulders. You swallow thickly as you look at yourself in the full-body mirror. This summer has changed you since you got the news of your arranged union, and suddenly, as you look at yourself at this moment, you are surprised to see that a bride stares back at you. 

“You look perfect,” Nidia says softly as if sensing your nervousness. She holds your gaze in the mirror and smiles a little when Lupa joins in with a happy, agreeing nod, the both of them adjusting the veil to cascade down your back gracefully. 

“Thank you,” you say gratefully and relax a bit more. At least how you look is going to be talked about the most but then again, will this enhance your future husband’s desire? What will happen when he gets you alone in his chambers? You shake the thought, not used to the idea of being perceived in such a fashion even if you tasted the idea yesterday, “Okay, I think I am ready.”

As you step out from behind the divider, your mother radiates maternal pride and clasps her hands together, “Oh, by Venus, you are radiant! I don’t know what your father was doing with all his worry.”

You try not to overthink that statement and act casual, very much aware that you have not seen him today. Instead, you ask, “Where is father?” 

“He has gone back and forth between our home and the General’s many times today. I suppose that he wants everything to be perfect for you and make you happy,” she keeps her voice high-pitched and cheerful but you can feel your gut telling you that she isn’t completely convinced either. She may have been making jest of you being the last of her daughters to marry but you know that your father sees you as more of a chess piece - the final move out of three - than his blood.

In your wedding attire, sparkling as Lupa gets the box of jewelry and Nadia adorns you in gold, you think again of the way your father had handled the negotiations of your marriage; how little concern he had shown for your thoughts on the matter, and, possibly without intending to, made it clear that this isn’t about love or even your happiness. It is about influence, power, and ascension to something right under the Gods.

“He’s always wanted things to be perfect for us,” you say with a forced smile, though your mother doesn’t seem to notice the strain on your face, “Ever since we were little, it was always about making sure we made the right connections, the right alliances.”

Your mother looks up at you, not quite as oblivious as she tries to convince you of. Her smile softens, “It’s just his way, my dear. He wants the best for you, for all of us, and you like the General! I can tell.”

The best for him, perhaps. You dare ask a question that can only exist between women who understand that you live in a world ruled by men. “Mother, do you think he would have arranged this if General Acacius had been… cruel?”

The silence that follows is thick, and in that moment, you realize that the answer may not be one you want to hear. You stare at her, brows furrowed as you wait for her to say something, but in the end, she avoids your gaze completely. 

“It is time to leave,” she says instead and turns to Lupa and Nidia who have gone completely quiet, “My daughter needs escorting to the carriage. We cannot keep my husband waiting so close to the time of the ceremony.”

You swallow thickly but do not protest, a heavy feeling in your stomach as you are led out of your home, taking in the details of the surroundings that you grew up in for what feels like the last time.

—

Upon arrival at Marcus' estate, you are greeted by who you assume will be your new maid. Ismene is her name, a woman not much older than yourself but with rougher hands, the kind that have known hard labor. She wears a plain tunic and her hair tied back in a braid, curtsying as you step out of the carriage. 

You hear your mother tell Lupa and Nidia to stay back in case it’ll insult Ismene that you have brought maids from your home but Ismene just smiles, her eyes flicking up at you as she bows to catch a glimpse of who she will be serving from now on. 

“My lady,” she greets after stretching to her full height again, a twinkle in her gaze and a gut feeling telling you that she has no ill will towards you, “Everything is ready for you. The General has requested that you go to the gardens immediately where the ceremony will take place shortly.” 

She leads you and your mother through the mansion that is as beautiful as you remember it from yesterday. Except this time, seemingly overnight, the home has been decorated to be fit for festivities later. Your mother walks beside you, her expression calm, but you know her enough by now to sense the tension beneath the surface. She glances around the estate with careful eyes, not having been here before since your father refused it, and is perhaps judging the wealth and power of the man you are about to marry. Maybe, she may even be worrying for you.

You must screen your face from the sun in the gardens, but you still cannot help but notice the red roses and the ivy snaking their way around the columns that surround the spot chosen for the ceremony. Their colors are striking and beautiful against the white marble, eliciting a gasp of awe from your mother. What you also cannot help but notice is the return of the flutter of excitement that stirs in your belly, one that feels out of place among your adult worries. Everything is even more gorgeous than you had imagined in your childhood daydreams. 

“It’s beautiful, truly. The Gods have indeed favored us,” your mother praises in a whisper just as the three of you come to a halt. Ismene has stopped in her tracks just out of sight from the guests who are here to witness the marriage, and she is deliberately quiet to give you and your mother this last brief moment of privacy before everything changes. 

Your mother reaches out to gently touch your arm. In response, you turn to her and are met with her warm and reassuring smile. She cups your face and kisses your forehead. 

“Remember that father and I raised you to be strong,” she tells you with tears welling up in her eyes. You can feel your heart beating harshly against your chest as you recognize both fear and excitement on her face, and you suppose that there’s grief in her following this; her last child leaving home will be the end of her being needed. 

“Te amo in aeternum, Mamma (I love you forever, Mom),” you only just manage to say as your throat feels tight and you can hear footsteps approaching. 

You know it is your father by the commanding pace of the steps, the way the feet strike the earth with determination. He rounds the corner with a small smile on his lips as he sees you. 

“My beautiful daughter,” he greets you and immediately holds his arm out for you to take. There’s urgency in his voice even if it is tender at the sight of you, “It is time.”

“Are you ready?” Your mother interrupts, earning a glance from her husband. His presence somehow looms larger after that question, as if he wants to scoff at the thought that you could ever say no. He shakes his arm with an impatient smile when you still have not taken his arm. Clearly, this is not a moment for lingering but a moment for you to fulfill your duty.

You swallow hard and then you turn to your father. With a nod, you place your arm through his, “I’m ready.”

“Then let us not keep the General waiting,” he smiles.

The wedding ceremony is swift and takes place underneath the blazing sun of Rome. Marcus Acacius stands at the altar, his tall and broad figure exuding strength and importance. You feel drawn to the way he looks as he watches you walk down the pathway between the guests, stoic and calm in an attire that matches yours. You feel reassured by him because of this strength, that if everything fails, he will catch you.

When you stop in front of him and your father nods in a way that feels transactional, you swear that you can see his eyes soften. The officiant drones on but you don’t hear a word, the thoughts of last night when you were alone in your bed flooding your mind and causing your heartbeat to drown out noise around you. You can still feel the warmth of your own touch between your legs and it’s so consuming of your attention that you suddenly hear someone clearing their throat. 

“We will now perform the joining of hands, dear,” the officiant repeats and you can see that Marcus is already holding out his palm for you to place your own in. Your face is hot, your cheeks prickling with embarrassment but you recover by not letting it faze you. Marcus smiles ever so gently when your hand takes his and a leather band is wrapped around them. You say your promise to him like you have practiced so many times in the mirror back in your room.

Where he is your Gaius, you will be Gaia. Mother nature. The first goddess. The one who made sense of chaos. 

“Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia.”

–

In the early evening, the festivities begin with a banquet that makes the ones your father has hosted in the past pale in comparison. There’s people and food and people eating the food everywhere. Goblets get continuously filled by servants and bread with oil, butter, and cheese gets restocked as soon as it might look like serving platters are emptying out. However, it is not envy that you see on your parents’ faces as they take in the long table that abounds in the season’s most beautiful flowers laid out in rich displays of colors, or the most expensive foods that are replenished before anyone can take notice of their shortages, but rather pride in your mother’s eyes and some sort of distasteful greed in your father’s.

It makes you think of Cassius again, the idea of his stomach growling as he makes his way home from laboring in the fields surrounding your village. He would hate this, you think to yourself, the sight of the uppermost elite of society stuffing their faces but not for nourishment.

You look down at your hands when you start to feel bad for thinking of another man while sitting right next to your new husband. Yet Marcus doesn’t seem to notice the way your shoulders slump. He smiles warmly at each congratulations that he receives while you sit at the end of the same long table and you’re surprised to see that it comes off as genuine each time. He graciously lifts his goblet of wine as thanks, nodding to the faces of men his own age who approach with offerings and gifts. You’ve seen them steal glances at you when they think others haven’t noticed. 

You wonder if Marcus has, if he feels triumphant or enraged by the lingering appreciative stares that you receive right before they go back to their wine. 

It is to be expected with how beautiful your mother has made you for this day, you say to yourself in your new state as an object of desire, but still, you are without much appetite from being stared at. It makes you think of your wedding night and the duty that lies within it. As a comfort, you reach for your goblet of wine frequently throughout the evening and completely ignore the delicious smell of roasted meats and the sight of shiny green grapes and berries that you have on your plate. Right now, they make you feel sick. 

Sensing your discomfort, Marcus holds his hand up to stop an approaching guest and turns his attention to you. His gaze follows the movement of your hand as you lift the goblet to your slightly-stained lips once more. Gently, he reaches out and covers your hand with his, taking the cup away from you.

“No more wine. I don’t want you to feel unwell on our night together,” he says simply and firmly but there’s affection in his command, a concern for your wellbeing. It’s the first time that you see a glimpse of the man you met yesterday. He makes you fold quickly, nod with embarrassment as you in return stare sheepishly at him while he sets down the goblet out of your reach. 

“Of course, my legatus,” you hurry to say, remembering how your mother had urged you to show respect by referring to his rank. You offer him a hesitant smile, “You’re right.”

“I know this is not easy for a maiden as young as you, and I must admit that it is all very overwhelming even for me,” he gives you a smile in return, allowing himself to show brief vulnerability to ease your mind, “But there’s no need to dull your senses, Carrissima.”

“It was not my intention to make you feel like I was unappreciative—“

“I did not think you were,” he interrupts before you can tear yourself down in an effort to humble yourself. He places a hand on yours underneath the table, “Are you pleased with the celebration? I never notice if others are enjoying the festivities. I admit I seek solitude more often than company in these situations.”

“It is beautiful, I’ve never seen anything like it,” you reply with a nod and realize that you find the conversation less terrifying now. You blame your ease on the amount of wine you have already consumed, “If you want reassurance, a woman can always tell if people are enjoying themselves.”

“And what is your verdict?” Marcus brushes his thumb over the back of your hand. You hide the shiver that goes up your spine, breathe deeply to steady your heart after it has skipped at least a few beats. He must know what his touch does to you after feeling it yesterday.

A burst of laughter from a table nearby catches both of your attention. A group of guests are engaged in lighthearted discussions, chatting cheerfully with each other and getting up when the musicians strike up a song made for dancing. 

You observe them for a moment before turning back to Marcus again, but before you can answer, a man approaches your table with what you assume is more congratulations. You make a mental note to be more present in this, to show your husband and his guests that you are in favor of the union. However, the man leans in close to Marcus, whispering something in his ear. 

You notice a subtle shift in Marcus’s demeanor; the previous warmth in his eyes momentarily replaces itself with a focused seriousness. He nods at the messenger, who quickly slips away into the crowd before you can even register what he looks like.

“Is everything all right?” You ask with curiosity and concern. 

“Yes, nothing to worry about. Just a small matter that needed my attention. I apologize for the interruption,” he assures you but hardly satisfies your curiosity. The seriousness vanishes completely in favor of softness as soon as he looks at you again, “Forgive me for forgetting but I must compliment the jasmine flowers in your wedding crown. They suit my bride perfectly.”

The sudden change in his tone makes your heart flutter, and you realize how intentional his words are, as if to draw you back into the moment with him. You reach up to feel the soft petals of the flowers with your fingertips. You smile genuinely at him, shy from the compliment, “It was already weaved this morning but I remembered you mentioning that jasmine is your favorite.”

He raises an eyebrow, “You remembered our conversation.”

“I wanted to show that I was attentive,” you reply, feeling a connection that wasn’t there just a moment before.

“You’ve certainly succeeded,” he replies with a pleased grin at being surprised by you.

The sunset has crept up on you while you have been in conversation with Marcus for a while, the plate in front of you suddenly having been emptied by you without much thought. You only register the darkness of the night when guests have started to get up from their seats to say goodbye and go home, and panic starts to rise in your throat when the crowd thins out enough for Marcus to send the rest home. 

You've known this night would come, and yet as you get up from your seat, standing right in the middle of all the many tables, it feels like it is brand new information that comes hurtling towards you and frightens you even further. 

With a lump in your throat, you watch the last few faces take their leave, observing how Marcus says goodbye to what you assume are the most important guests. 

When everything is quiet except for the servants’ footsteps, your parents approach you. Your mother is the first to talk, her eyes glistening with pride. 

“My dear, it’s been a wonderful celebration,” she says, gently squeezing you in an embrace. “We’re so happy for you.”

“Thank you, Mother. I’m so grateful you were here to share it with me,” you reply, accepting her embrace warmly and almost desperately due to your anxiety. You can feel her tense up when she realizes that you are hugging her to soothe yourself but she doesn’t say anything. 

Your father stands by quietly. He only nods approvingly when Marcus joins the three of you, “A splendid event. We’re confident our daughter is in good hands.”

Marcus bows his head respectfully, “You have my word that she is.”

Your father turns to you, his expression of importance softening just a bit, “Remember what we’ve taught you, my daughter. Honor and family are paramount.”

“I understand, Father,” you assure him, avoiding his eyes. The surprisingly cool interaction between father and daughter catches Marcus’ attention, and the step he takes closer to you is almost unnoticeable. You feel his arm accidentally brushing yours but you swear that there’s a sort of protectiveness in the featherlight touch even if it is unintentional. It makes exchanging farewells easier.

“Perhaps we should retire as well,” he suggests when your parents are out of sight, “Goddess Nox has already spread her veil across the sky for a while.”

"Yes, I suppose it is time,” you glance up at the stars above, feeling the cool night air against your skin. You wish he would ground you like before.

The both of you make your way to your shared chambers. The short walk feels longer than it should, the weight of the moment pressing down on you with each step. You glance at your husband as he walks beside you, his calm and steady demeanor sharply in contrast with the growing nervousness inside you. The walls of the corridor are lined with flickering torches, and they seem to stretch on endlessly. Though nothing lasts forever and eventually you come to a halt, the door in front of you leading you to your wedding night.

This is it.

.

.

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[idesofrevolution]

Father

Dad had been acting strange for quite some time. Honestly, it wasn't that noticeable in the beginning, which I suppose made it difficult to pinpoint when things started to change. I only started to notice maybe seven months or so ago after he turned down the daily Budweiser. Patrick O'Shaughnessy turning down his biggest vice? I knew something was off right then and there as he sat there, smiling at me from his armchair with the game on in the background: red flag number two, my stepfather had NEVER been a sports guy. Binging Fox News while fingering pudding cups, sure; but actually knowing what was happening in a football game?

I'd originally thought he'd perhaps found a side girl to cheat on my mom with. It was far from outside of his character to do something like that, if he'd ever be able to get his nasty ass out of the recliner for ten fucking minutes... He'd gotten too comfortable in his laziness. When my mom married him a year ago, he was already a piece of shit lardass who refused to do a single thing around the house, refused to work a normal job (he was waiting for a management position apparently), and above all refused to acknowledge me whatsoever. He was rude, crass, could never even so much as break a smile at me. And there, in that moment as his eyes made contact with mine and his lips curled into a smile, I knew something was wrong.

"What, no beer burps for me today?" I scowled at him, raising my eyebrow in a malicious curiosity.

"Nahh little man, I'm trying to cut down." Little man? He'd never gotten my name right let alone given me a nickname... We did not have that kind of relationship, at least one that would have an affectionate nickname for one another. "Say, I'm hittin' the gym in a couple minutes. Whaddya say you come along?"

"You're... you're going to the gym? Really?" I sat there slackjawed. Something was indeed off. What it was, I couldn't exactly tell. Nothing outside of his UberEats order would ever get Patrick out of the chair. He laughed at me, gripping his sizeable paunch beneath his stained tee shirt.

"You bet, bud. High time I set an example for my boy. How's he gonna respect a couch potato loser? You should come along. Nothin' like a father and son spending time together, especially in the gym. Get the boys lookin', right?" He stood up from his chair, grabbing his keys off the kitchen countertop as he headed toward his car. I, on the other hand, stood there with tunnel vision. Patrick was not the most supportive parent when it came to... well, anything. But the biggest bone of contention was me coming out to them last year. It was the biggest hullabaloo, Oscar worthy. Thrown glasses, flipped chairs, disownment, threats of eviction... the only thing that kept me in the house was my mother putting her foot down. It wasn't a big deal for her, but for him... I was the biggest embarrassment on the planet. What would Tucker Carlson think?

Yet as I stood there, staring at the cigarette-stained wall, my brain couldn't process what I'd just heard. 'Get the boys lookin' he said... As if he were trying to play wing man for me... What the fuck was happening? My heart fluttered the moment his words sank in, that was pride. It was something neither my father nor my stepdad ever had the courtesy of giving me. My walls were up, and I was beyond skeptical, so for my own peace of mind I had decided then and there to investigate.

From that day on, the moment I came home from school, I was spying. While most of my friends were trying to enjoy their senior year, going to parties or getting ready for college, I was at home peering behind corners at my stepfather. Over the first few months I watched with complete disbelief at the changes. Every single day, I'd come home, and he'd be on his way out to the gym. The normal scowl he'd gift me upon my entry was replaced with jovial smiles and hair ruffling as he schlepped his gym bag over his shoulder out the door. He'd be gone for two or three hours at least, and come home just before dinner dripping in buckets of sweat. I'd begun to avoid driving his car, as the stink of his sweat had completely inundated the fabric of the seats. He'd toss his bag on the floor by my book bag (gross), and plop down at the dinner table where he would ask genuinely about my day or sweetly flirt with my mom while winking at me. I still wasn't convinced. He kept asking me nearly every day if I'd come to the gym with him, if we could go shoot hoops at the park across the street, or if I'd play FIFA with him. Each time I'd shoot him down, he'd have a momentary break in that happy facade of his, as if it were hurting him I wasn't spending time with him.

Within five months or so, he was nearly unrecognizable. I guess protein shakes & a low carb diet really works on a guy: he'd lost nearly 70 pounds and gained about 20 in muscle alone. He'd struck up friendships with my school's wrestling coach and a couple of the neighbors, and we were finding ourselves invited to barbecues and block parties for the first time. I had to endure little hallway chats with Coach Weston about joining the wrestling team, as he was in talks with the school district about bringing my stepdad on as assistant coach. It was bizarre to me for many reasons, but one stood out above all: Patrick was never a wrestler. Not in college, not in high school, my mom even confirmed it one night at dinner. He'd brush it off as if it were something fun he were doing with 'Dane', which in and of itself was weird to hear the coach's first name used at all at home.

Sleep was getting difficult. My mind ran at a thousand miles an hour, but now he and mom had begun to fuck like rabbits. Loud, hard sex almost every other night with their bed slamming against my bedroom wall for hours. Mom of course was radiant at that point. The years of one piece of shit husband being a complete and total asshole, replaced by another piece of shit husband treating her like garbage melted away in the course of a couple of months of Patrick being a strangely brilliant partner. He'd started to cook us meals, he'd started to do the yardwork, he'd even fixed things around the house that had been broken for years. Sure, the sex seemed to help, but as she would say: "He's lessened my load so much, Jonas. I wish you'd give him a chance."

Sure, he was treating my mom well and that was a good enough reason for me to like him. Was it enough to trust him? No. I'd still turn down every single request to spend time alone with him. No gym. No basketball court. No gaming. Though, in one single concession for my mom's sake, I begrudgingly agreed to let him drive me to school in the morning. That one decision is what truly changed my life forever. I went to bed that night, putting on my earbuds to drown out their disgusting sex in the next room, less than eager for the fifteen minute drive the next day.

Thus, on that warm April day, my morning began as normal. Shower, dress, drink my morning smoothie, grab my bag, and walk out the door. It wasn't long before I was greeted by his chipper, dim witted voice shattering my peaceful morning.

"Ayy little man!" I sighed, turning toward the garage, where there he stood: shirtless and dripping sweat from his chiseled body. As a gay guy, I have to admit, it was hard not to stare. He had become quite a sight to behold. The other moms in the neighborhood certainly would sit and stare at him on his morning runs, even a couple of the dads as well, and now I sat there oogling the ripped, gleaming body he'd built.

"Hey, Patrick. Do you need to shower? I have to get going, but I can catch the bus if there's not enough time?" In my head, I was praying to God that he'd just hop in the shower he never seemed to take and I could go on my merry way. Though, no such luck.

"Nah, man! It's all good. I promised you I'd take you to school, so hop in the car!" I sighed, turning to his 1998 Mustang with a shiver cascading down my spine.

"Sure, Patrick." I dragged my feet headed toward his car. Opening the door, the humid, musky air within poured out of the car, punching me in the face with his scent. Imagine a noxious waft of butter, blue cheese, saltwater, and feet just drowning you. That was the stink that swamped his car, and him for that matter. I took one final breath of fresh air before I sat in the car and closed the door. He wasn't far behind, not even bothering to put a shirt on as he hopped in beside me.

"Alright! Let's get goin' bud!" He turned the key and the car roared to life. I sighed, thankful it was only fifteen minutes. As we pulled out of the driveway and onto the street, I turned on the radio, hoping to dissuade him from making some puerile small talk. We sat there in silence for a moment, before hitting the main road. "You know what, bud?" He turned to me, looking me up and down before rolling up the windows and turning off the radio. "Ahhh fuck it. We're playing hooky today."

"Wait, what?" I had no time to protest, before he turned onto the main road, but in the opposite direction from the school. "Patrick, I'm not playing hooky. I have to go to school." He laughed, ruffling my hair yet again.

"You gotta stop callin' me Patrick, Jonas. I don't have to be dad if you don't want, but Patrick is so... not me. Just call me Pat."

"Okay, PAT. I'm going to school." He turned to me, and his smile faded, letting out a solid sigh that would put mine to shame. He pulled over onto the shoulder, and put the car in park.

"Listen. I know you don't like me. I know you don't trust me, and I get it. I made a lot of changes to him very quickly, and it's hard to keep up." Him? Why did he say it like that? "I'd been watching you just suffer endlessly for years, man. All the time. I just wanted you to have a good role model for once. A man you could lean on, and not some shitty lard who talks bad to ya."

"What the fuck are you on about?" My patience had worn too thin for my calm veneer to bear. He turned the key, and the engine quickly died.

"C'mon bro. You know something's different about him, right? I know you've been watchin' me like a hawk. Think I haven't noticed you watchin' me from around the hall corner? You think I don't know you're creepin' while I beat one out huffin' my strap? I know, dude. I've always known. C'mon, man." Pat threw his hands in the air in frustration, the first time since his attitude adjustment that I'd seen anything like it. But, this was different. It wasn't rage, it was exasperation.

"Okay, Pat. So you saw me watching you. Can you please tell me what the fuck is going on now?" He slowly rested his sweaty head against the headrest, and sighed. Then, a chuckle. Then another, until he was full on laughing. "What!?"

"Ahhh, man. I never thought I'd see the day you'd man up and come to. Yeah, Jonas. I can tell you what the fuck is going on." I sat back, confounded- even more so than before. "My name was Matt Wilde. Way back in the day, I used to wrestle for Palm Heights High. Was pretty damn good at it too, but one day I got pinned just a little too hard and poof."

"Matt Laurent? What the fuck are you talking about, Pat? Are you high?" His dumb laugh threw him back in the seat.

"Nah, I finished that joint earlier, man. Stone sober now. But, safe to say for the past 50 years I've been just hoppin' body to body. Started with a couple of my teammates just so I could finish out the years, wrestle a bit more. Got bored, hung around the gym, in and out of some lug heads. Did a stint in some Libertines, that was fun as fuck. But man, I saw you sulkin' around the school for the past three years and thought, damn that kid looks sad. So, I may have eavesdropped a bit, maybe caught a bit about your dead beat, piece of shit dad; then right after he ditches, Mom lands this fuckin' winner." He slapped his chest, little droplets of his sweat landing on my bewildered face. "Oh shit, my bad." I sat there, slackjawed, completely disoriented as he dumbly wiped his sweat off my nose and cheek.

"You... you're dead?" He snapped his fingers, winking and smirking at me.

"Bingo, bud. Right on the money. I was like, I'm in a very unique situation here to fuckin' do something this. So, I slipped into this dumbass and just stuck around. Did the work. Tried, emphasis on TRIED, to be like the Dad I had and that you deserve, ya know? Haven't made it fuckin' easy, but... ahhh. That's parenthood, am I right?" I scoffed, he must have taken some damn good drugs. I was convinced. There was no way!

"Okay, then. MATT. So, if you're some dead jock bro possessing Pat, where the fuck is he?" He pondered for a moment in silence, shrugging his shoulders.

"I think he's gone, bro. I haven't stayed in a dude this long, I used to hear him bitchin' and moanin' all the time, but he went silent a couple of weeks ago." Fuck, I wish that were true. I had to admit, even if only in my mind, this Matt-Patrick was lightyears better than Patrick Patrick. Sure, he was dumb, he was every stereotype dudebro in the book, he smelled like he bathed in sweat baths... But, for the first time in my life, he wanted to be around me. He wanted to spend time with me. He made an effort. He... liked me. The mental gymnastics needed to make sense of the situation was growing too monumental to comprehend, but in that moment as he sat there with his dumb fucking grin on his face as if I was going to just completely buy it, I started to hope it was true.

"So, what now, Matt? Are you just gonna keep fucking my mom and prentending to be my Dad for the rest of your life? Or are you gonna hop out and ditch us?" He raised his eyebrow in genuine confusion.

"I mean, yeah that was the plan. One, your mom is fuckin' hot and she's better than any girl I've ever been with. Two, I kinda like our little family. Three, I ain't ditchin' ya, bro. You had enough of that shit for one lifetime. Besides, I gotta get you to chill the fuck out one way or another, so I was hoping we could give it a shot. Like I've been beggin' man." 'Matt' put his hands together as if praying, pleading to me. I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing. It's better than coming home every day to spy on him, and it's way better than being the sad wallflower all the fucking time. Besides, those dumb fucking puppy dog eyes...

"You know what? Sure, Matt. What did you have in mind?" I could barely finish my sentence before he'd twisted the key and slammed on the gas. The man drove like a bat out of hell through town, hooting and hollering in victory as if he'd won a match.

"Hell fuckin' yeah, man! Dude we're gonna be so tight, it's gonna be awesome. You're gonna be so fuckin' sexy, the dudes are gonna be on their knees by the time we're done! Slobberin' on that dick like SLURPEDY SLURP! WOO!" So fuckin' dumb. Dumb as a box of rocks. But I couldn't help but crack a smile as he swerved left and right, shouting at the top of his lungs. "Let's get you sweatin' man. We can get you pumpin' iron, playin' ball... I'm burning everything you got in your closet, bro. Nobody wants polos and button ups, man. Gettin' you some J's, some good jocks. Oh, how do you feel about chains?"

"Matt, dude. I'm not like you. That's all well and good for you, but I can't pull that shit off..." He slammed on the brakes and a cavalcade of horns from behind us rang out like a brass band. Matt whipped his gaze to me in shock.

"Don't say that, bro! You could be a bona fide stud! Look at you, man!" A couple of hard slaps against my bony chest and a harsh wheeze later, perhaps it sank in a bit. "Aight, well we have some work to do. I mean, if you're up for it." He smirked at me, lifting up those massive arms and flexing. His veins bulged from his massive bicep, the wet hairs in his ripe pits wafted that pungent scent I'd regrettably started to secretly love... Yeah, maybe I did want it.

"I don't know how, man. If I were like you, I bet I could." As if a cartoon lightbulb flickered to life above his head, I saw the spark of inspiration hit him like a sack of bricks. That stupid smirk grew into a wide, toothy grin.

"Aight, bro. Haven't tried this before, but I'll give it a go." He clapped his hands together, rubbing them gently. "I saw Jimmy Morales do this once when he needed a spotter. Gotta ask, though. You trust me, right?" I sat there and wondered if I did. I'd pretended up until this point that I believed every word that had come out of his mouth. This insane, psychotic story. It was nuts. It was crazy. But that little voice in the back of my head, deep down in the dark recesses of my brain decided to finally speak up.

"Yeah, Matt. I trust you."

"ALRIGHT! Fuck yeah, man. Oh shit, this is gonna be great! Okay, so don't freak out, just trust me and let it happen, okay? It doesn't hurt, the dudes usually bust a nut after it's all over." I heard a squelching rumble from in his stomach: wet, guttural, as if he were getting ready to vomit. Which became more and more likely as I saw a lump start to make it's way up his throat.

"Matt..." His body began to shudder and quake, his veins bulging and head thrashing from side to side. Then, from between his lips, a glowing blue vapor began to slip out. It was tiny at first, a little tail whipping about, before more and more of it started to bellow out of his mouth. Slick, bulbous, translucent. I had mere seconds of watching it slither out before it darted right into my own slack jaw. It squirmed as it wriggled from his body into mine, slurping deep into my bulging stomach. The feeling of fullness overtook me, watching more and more of the rubbery thing enter me, squeezing into every available inch within me, and he was right: it felt good. It felt like an eternity, but in reality it was just moments. The last of suctioned into me, and the world went black.

---

I woke the next morning in my bed. Shooting straight upright in a puddle of sweat. I rubbed my hands on my face, running my fingers through my drenched hair. What a fuckin' dream. I groaned as doubled over in pain. I felt like I was hit by a train. Everything hurt, a soreness unlike anything I'd ever experienced before radiated from every fiber of my being. Then, a soft caress of the nostril. Salty, buttery, funky... I raised my arm, finding the culprit immediately.

"Fuck!" I spat out, before taking a deep breath, another hit. "Fuuuuck..." Another inhale, a familiar stink, a comforting stink. What started as gentle whiffs quickly turned into full on huffing. I buried my nose in my pit, letting the wet jungle lather my face in my own sweat.

"Morning, bro. Good shit, ain't it?" The words echoed in my head, a soft, rippling little voice from within my brain. I should have been alarmed, terrified, even. But no, the words felt like gospel to me. "We really went to town yesterday, man. I had you liftin' like an Olympian. Take it easy. Here, I'll be right there, I got just the thing for it!" My hands started to drift southward, beneath the waistband of the teal sweats I didn't own... Were they... Pats? The door to my room burst open mid-huff, and in walked the hulking tower himself with a tray in hand.

"Goooood Morning, Kiddo! I made ya a protein shake, good recovery breakfast after a workout sesh like we had! Oh, your Mom made eggs!" He walked over to the side of my bed, kicking the Jordans I'd borrowed from him to the side. Wait, when did I do that? "Eat up, champ. Those 'ceps aren't gonna feed themselves!" Slamming the tray down onto my thighs, I let out a groan of pain.

"Pat? Dude, I had the weirdest dream." Dude? I never say dude. I cupped my hand, slick with sweat and pre over my mouth, aghast at the words coming out of my mouth. Pat smiled, grabbing the shake and handing it to me. "Drink up, my dude. For real, you're gonna be in a world of hurt otherwise." The voice boomed in my head, HIS voice. But his lips hadn't moved an inch. "Pat..." I ripped the sheets off of me, sure enough, I was sporting his nasty sweatpants & drenched socks. Cupping my manhood was most definitely his grimy jockstrap. "Hey, if we were gonna have the best workout, I had to be comfortable, bro! I knew you'd get it, though." I looked at him, a tight lipped smile, as if he were proving to me he weren't talking to me. "Feels good, right! I told ya! Just think, bro. With a half of me in there, you're gonna be unstoppable." I smiled. A genuine fuckin' smile, for the first time in as long as I could remember. I watched as my hand gripped the shake, bringing it to my lips of it's own accord. Downing the vanilla shake, our eyes met, and I understood completely. Matt winked at me, ruffling my hair, and sauntered back out of the door.

I leaned back in my bed, throwing my arm behind my head. The musk drifting from my pits and feet, identical to my dad's. Smirking, I let my fingers drift down to my growing meat in its slimy pouch, knowing fully well that I was in damn fine hands.

---

So that brings us to today, I guess! One year to the day. One full year since I finally let Dad in. 'Pat' sure did join the wrestling team as assistant coach, bringing his son in tow, eager to finish my senior year with at least a title. Thanks to him, I made varsity after the first fuckin' tryout. Can't say it was all me, all the time, but after a while it was. Honestly, it all started to blend together. Me at the wheel, him at the wheel, soon it sort of blurred and it was just me. That last semester was the best of my whole fucking life. Parties, bodybuilding, skating with the boys, fuckin' the boys... Shit, it was the time of my fuckin' life.

And after every day at school, or at least after every post-practice locker room blow job, I couldn't wait to get home and smash some Call of Duty with the old man. Mom would always come in, making comments on how we seemed as if I'd become a mini-Pat. Finishing eachother's sentences, drinking the same beer, wearing the same kind of clothes... she'd always put our sneaks outside the garage door, "they even stank the same." Little did she know just how much of the same person we really were.

I've decided to stick around the house for a year or so before maybe headed to college. I don't know, family is here, friends are here, Coach Weston should be retiring in a year or two... so there should be an opening for a new assistant coach on the wrestling team. Besides, I may have landed quite the catch in the boyfriend department, and I really want him to meet my dad, I have a feeling they'll get along just fine.

[kissohee]

idol!sungchan x idol!eunseok x fem!reader ☆ nsfw ; wc : 1.5k+ ☆ one-shot mdni! synopsis; car sex warnings; handjob, unprotected sex, breeding, sungchan and reader are in a relationship, shotaro and seunghan are in the car

It was very rare when staff allowed you to come along with Sungchan during schedules. And when you are, you and Sungchan are expected to be on your best behavior. Aka. In public you have to pretend to be staff and Sungchan has to pretend he doesn't care about you. Eventually, Sungchan got fed up with that and he begged the company for one of two things. You were allowed to be seen with him in public or he could bring you on any schedules he wants. The company was not on board for the whole open relationship idea, so they agreed to let you come along when wanted.

Only thing was that you would go in a different car and not the one Riize would go in. Not because the company didn't want you too, but because there was zero space. Unless they would split up the cars, then they'd allow you to be with him. You were watching Riize film something for some promotion thing you completely forgot the name of, only coming because Sungchan begged you prior to come along since he said it would take all day to do and that was supposed to be your day together. You had zero problem with it, you loved Riize. They were always so supportive and excited whenever you came along. And you enjoyed watching them shoot, mainly because Sungchan's arms were around you whenever he wasn't, but also because when he was, you get to stare at handsome Sungchan at work. "And that should be it!" The camera man turns the camera off, you watch as Sungchan makes his way towards you, placing a soft kiss on your lips before checking the time. "It's late, I'm gonna quickly get out of these clothes and we'll head home okay?" It wasn't that late, but the sooner you got out of there the better, you were starting to see the set every time you closed your eyes. Now for the unfun part, figuring out what the seating arrangement would be for the car ride back. After what felt like an extremely long discussion, you guys decided to split up. Anton, Sohee and Wonbin would go in one car while Shotaro, Seunghan, Eunseok, Sungchan and you would go in another. Sungchan made the point that someone in the other car should switch with him, so that you could also have a seat. But, the 3 were very stern about not switching, claiming they were really tired and wanted to stretch. Since no one was changing their mind, Sungchan accepted the fact that you would be sitting on his lap. Except he really didn't want that. Sungchan is very good at many things, but he is not good at self control, and today just happened to be a day where he really really needed you. It took everything in him to not drag you into a changing room and fuck you there while he was on break. So he opted to sitting in the back, so at least there could be slight privacy. What didn't cross his mind is that someone would have to be sitting in the back as well. After another, except this time, short discussion, they decided that Eunseok would sit in the back as well. The moment you sat on Sungchan, his hands held your thighs. Lightly squeezing them every few seconds. His breath hot on your neck. After a while, you were sure everyone else knocked out, tired from the past photoshoot. Sungchan however, was wide awake, having trouble resting his eyes due to how bumpy the ride was. Sungchan swears he was sent to hell with the way the route they were going had so many speed bumps. His clothed cock making contact with you with every jolt. He knew you felt it, there was no way you couldn't. "I need you."

You experimentally adjusted yourself on his lap, Sungchan lowly groaning in your eyes, stuffing his face in the back of your neck, "You can't wait like 20 minutes?" "They won't know." Technically, if you guys are discreet about it, you could probably get away with it. But it could also be incredibly risky. If someone catches you it could either result in their respect lowering for you, or you being banned from ever going to another schedule with Sungchan ever again. "Make it quick." "You don't have to worry about that," Sungchan wastes no time taking his cock out through the zipper of his pants, moving yours enough for access before pushing your panties to the side and stuffing himself in you. You hold onto the back of the seat in front of you, making sure not to disturb Shotaro sitting in it. He waited a second before thrusting up into you, forcing you to bite your lip to avoid making noises. You could never get used to how big Sungchan is, and normally you'd be a loud mess but this felt like a test from the devil himself. "I've been wanting to do this all day," Sungchan slams your hips down on his, "How I wished I was inside of you instead of doing that stupid photoshoot." "Sungchan.." You moan, loud enough for only him to hear you. His fingers dragging up your skin under your shirt, the warmth of his hands making you sweat. Despite Sungchan controlling your hips, you were unable to stop yourself from doing so as well. Bouncing on his cock soft enough to not make any noises, though is was pretty hard to cover the noise of how wet your pussy sounded every time he thrusted in. It wasn't until you swear you saw something move next to you, where you swear your heart stopped. "You guys are not discreet at all.." Sungchan stops, holding your hips tight, his cock deep inside you as you acknowledge the fact that the person right next to you, was in fact awake.

"Shit- Eunseok I'm sorry-" Sungchan he says quietly, just enough for the other male to hear. "It's fine." Eunseok manspreads slightly, "Just wished you could've let me know ahead of time." Sungchan keeps still, unsure to wether or not he should continue. On one hand, he really needs to cum, on the other, he doesn't want Eunseok to feel uncomfortable. "You guys can continue if you want, I'm not stopping you." The second Eunseok says that, Sungchan goes back to fucking up into you without saying a word back. You could feel eyes on you though, and that makes you let out a soft moan. You notice the way Eunseok warily palmed himself through his jeans, and it seemed you weren't the only one who noticed when you feel Sungchan tap you lightly. "Y/N help him." Eunseok stopped and moved his hand away, not seemingly too embarrassed that he got caught, "She doesn't have to if she doesn't wan- fuck.." You place your hand on top of his hard on, lightly massaging it the way he just was. You helped Eunseok unzip his pants, pulling his cock out from his boxers so your entire fist could work him. Eunseok and Sungchan were pretty close, but you never thought in your entire life of living that you would be in the back of a car getting penetrated by your boyfriend, while giving a handjob to another member of his group. Let alone the fact that Sungchan suggested it. Considering he was always pretty possessive, constantly saying he'd be pretty willing to knock a man out if they looked at you in any way. But maybe it's the fact that he knows you're his, and so he has nothing to worry about. You were too busy on the current circumstances to take realization in the way noises were made. A mix between Eunseok's pre cum and the movement of your hand made a wet sound that could be heard easily if you try really hard enough. One hand working his cock while the other focused mainly on his tip, Eunseok was seeing lights. You were all to aware of how close you were now, too determined on making Eunseok cum to even tell Sungchan. Although Sungchan didn't seem like he was in a communicative mood either, forcing your hips up and down his cock while he made low grunts. Your started to lose focus on your hands when you felt buildup in your lower stomach, "Sungchan please 'M gonna-" Sungchan knocks the words out of your mouth, forcing his cock to go as deep as it possibly could inside of you. The full feeling making your mind go numb as you orgasm all over Sungchan's cock. The sight alone sending Eunseok to his climax, his hips fucking up into you before twitching, cum shooting out onto your hand and the back of the seat in front of him, "Sh-shit.." You felt as Sungchan's cum filled you up, nails digging into the sides of your waist. He pulls out, fixing your panties so they hold his cum inside, finding the entire situation much hotter now that he returned to reality. Sungchan's arms wrapped around you when he felt you lose strength, resting on him behind you. He made circles with his fingers softly on the parts of your hips that he knew he held onto too harshly. "This was a one time thing," Sungchan looks at Eunseok, "It's never happening again, so if that thought's in your head, get it out." "Whatever you say man," Eunseok closes his eyes, hoping to find sleep in the small amount of ride there was left.

wrote this at 3am, night time is very dangerous for me - 🐠

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Libidinosa

Matthew de Clermont x Y/N - drabble - 583 WC NSFW 18+

Masterlist

Warnings: SMUT, female reader, sex pollen kinda fic, consent, romance, sweet Matthew

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

You writhed on the bed, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. You pulled at your clothes, feeling so hot you were sure you saw steam rising from your skin. 

“What is happening?” Matthew asked, demanding answers.

“It’s a curse… there’s no medical explanation for their symptoms otherwise…” Marcus stated, holding your wrist to feel your erratic pulse. 

Matthew couldn’t bear to watch you in pain, he placed a gentle hand on your chest, feeling your heart himself. You moaned at the contact, arching your back and shutting your eyes. You whimpered the second he pulled away, “No!” you spat before pulling his hand back to you. You felt his hand ghost over your chest and down your torso. Everything in you felt like it was on vibrate.

“I think… I think it's a lust curse…” Marcus said, slight confusion on his face as he watched how you reacted to Matthew.

“Libidinosa?” Matthe asked, “Nobody has used that curse in ages. Last I recall it was the witch trials. Used to lure men in so witches could harvest life power…” he said.

Marcus shrugged, “There is only one way to make it go away…” Marcus said, slowly walking backwards out of the room.

“You can’t be serious…” Matthew replied, looking to Marcus before you slid his hand between your thighs.

“As a heart attack. I’m gonna go take a walk…” Marcus said, shutting the bedroom door.

Matthew looked down at you with pity, “Unfortunately mon coeur he is right…” yet he didn’t move his hand, waiting for your consent.

“I… got myself… into this mess… help me out… please…” you begged him; you cursed yourself for trying a spell from a ripped page, not knowing it would lead to this. 

“Are you sure?” he said hesitantly.

“Yes!” you squealed, trying to rub yourself through your clothes. 

Matthew unbuttoned his shirt as he walked over to you, discarding it on the floor. As soon as he climbed on top of you he felt the heat radiating from you. Your skin was on fire as he touched you, your body lurching at the contact.

“Should I just get straight to it?” he asked, not entirely sure what you needed.

You ripped your underwear off, lifting your skirt up. “Now!” you whined. 

Matthew kissed right above your clit, teasing you before he dove in. He devoured you like a man starved, licking and sucking furiously. Your body shook as he held your hips down, your back arching off the bed. He slid his fingers into your greedy, dripping cunt. Pumping them in and out slowly before picking up speed. You could feel yourself starting to topple over; clutching his hair and pushing his face into you. Your eyes rolled back as you came hard on his face. He didn’t let a single drop of your essence go to waste, kissing over your inner thighs as you started to relax. You weakly reached out for him. 

“Thank you…” you said sleepily, feeling the spell fade away from you. 

Matthew pulled your skirt down, helping you adjust so you could sleep. “My pleasure,” he smiled cheekily. “You should sleep. It’ll help after all you’ve been through today.” 

You nodded, not putting up a fight. You did, however, pull him down with you. You snuggled into his chest appreciating his soft skin while you traced over his various scars. You both found it therapeutic. 

“Goodnight, mon coeur.” he said, kissing the top of your head. 

“Je t’aime.” you mumbled.

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

Naboo's Note:

Hello all! Super short fic, hope that's ok! Feeling pretty exhausted this week. Will try to write more fics next week. Thank you for all the support and patience, I recently hit 900 followers and it legit wanted to cry. 'm so thankful for everyone who reads my stuff. XOXOXOXOXOX!!!!!!!!!!

[grimreaperschild]

guitar practice

summary: wednesday always seems to put someone or something above you, luckily her roommate is always there to pick up the pieces

warnings: angst

a/n: i might make this into a series i’ve got some good ideas, thank you for all the support on my last post !

“wednesdays child is full of woe” you supposed that should be her mantra as you lock eyes over the top of your guitar, your not sure when your gothic girlfriend started pulling away but recently she’d been spending more and more time investigating with tyler galpin you haven’t spent time in your studio together in months her usually ditching your practice time in favour of gallivanting around the woods but not today.

today she sits dutifully at your side as you tune your beloved instrument, eyes never leaving the side of your face it’s starting to get difficult to hide the blush creeping up your neck so before you’ve even thought about what your doing you turn “do i have something on my face?” inwardly cringing as it comes out harsher than intended, she hums ignoring your last statement “would you accompany me to the weathervane after practice? i’d like to” she sucks air in through her teeth narrowing her eyes “i’d like to take you on, a date.” she nods her head seeming satisfied with herself.

you freeze a lopsided grin stretching across your face “id love to nes” she hums in response again stretching out her fingers to meet yours, still on the tuning pegs she ghosts her fingers up your arm and bumps your cheek with her knuckles affectionately “my investigation has hit a wall and i suppose it has been a while since we had some time together” you freeze again, but this time not in a good way heat and anger flush through you at the statement “ah so you only want to spend time with me when you’ve got nothing else to do?” she removes her hand quickly “y/n we have spoken about how important my investigation is, must you spend the time i give you acting like a spoilt child” you sit stunned at her words

anger.

betrayal?

hurt ?

they all blend together as you stand your guitar falling out of your lap and onto the floor with a painfully loud clatter, tears blur your vision as you look at her passive face unblinking, no, uncaring “really wednesday im a spoilt child for wanting you to spend time with your girlfriend? you think i enjoy you running off with tyler all the time? no. but i try to trust you no matter what my head tells me” your voice breaks and you take a sharp breath in refusing to let her see you break.

you take a step back not breaking eye contact with her

“must you be so dramatic y/n?”

you don’t dignify her with an answer taking another step, she still hasn’t moved you let out a dry chuckle “let me know when i move up your list of priorities” with that you turn on your heel and all but sprint from the room tears rolling down your cheeks.

your not sure where your legs are bringing you until your in front of a familiar dorm wednesday and enid’s room, enid. you knock quickly hearing the pop music pause the door swings open revealing the bubbly werwolf you watch her face brighten then fall at the sight of you, throwing yourself into her arms you choke out a sob her arms instantly coming around you rubbing soothing circles in your back “y/n what happened, talk to me comon let’s get you inside” walking backwards not breaking the hug she flings the door shut.

you rush though the explanation as she picks out one of her biggest hoodies for you to change into, your sat on her bed by the time she finally decides what clothes to give you “she doesn’t deserve you n/n” enid sighs as she pads over to you wiping at your tear stained cheeks with her thumbs “your staying with me tonight i don’t want you feeling like this alone get changed and get into bed” you comply happily and when you come out of the bathroom sporting the pink fluffy sweatshirt and pink mini shorts she cheers and opens her arms wide for you, you settle against her tucking your head under her chin and for a second you think maybe tyler can have wednesday if this is how it’s going to stay.

[carionto]

Hyperbrake Racing

Everything in Human ships has a manual override. They love automating all processes and reduce any workload to nothing, but also have this compulsive need to be able to take direct control if so desired.

They also have emergency off switches for everything. Yes, including life support. Don't ask, you'll just get a variant of:

"But What If!?"

Obviously, this applies to things you should never under any circumstances shut down preemptively, such as a Hyperspace Jump.

The earliest space-faring civilizations quickly discovered that if a Hyperdrive has a power interruption even for a nano-second your atoms will get dispersed across a few light months. This is why all Hyperdrives have an internal chargeable uninterruptible power supply unit.

Humanity, however, did not allow "Not having any reason whatsoever" to stop them from figuring out a way. Utilizing their ridiculous quantum computer speed and the ability of their fusion reactors to charge a Hyperdrive mid-jump, and with an injection of a disgusting few million lines of hack code that manipulate all related pieces of hardware in just the most nauseating sequences, they created the Hyperbrake.

Also, not a metaphor - braking literally causes Humans to feel nauseous, sometimes throw up, rarely even pass out. Not a single volunteer crew member aboard joint vessels from any of the other Coalition species has dared to "test" what happens to them.

As with nearly all things Humans come across or invent, they will find a use for it should one not occur normally.

_____________________

Near Neptune

Daniel, Samantha, and Nicholas Schreier were three siblings ages 17, 19, and 20, respectively. Today they had "borrowed" their dad's General FordStar mark 980-MZ HaulerHound, a civilian grade transport typically used by small business owners. Dad, however, was an enthusiast, and had modified the "Hound Dog", as he calls it, with a military grade reactor and computer core. He's always been that guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who can get the thing legally enough.

There is a nearby research station that the kids often visit due to their mom working there, but today she was not. Instead, what they are doing, is racing against each other to set the best record. Well, technically the opposite of racing - coming to a halt.

Using the Hyperbrake, they are competing to see who can stop the closest to the stations outer point-defense range without entering it or you automatically lose. After Samantha's turn, they were suddenly contacted by the station. It was Yakovskii, one of mom's colleagues and a frequent guest at dad's barbecues, so they were on sorta good terms. Not by the tone voice coming through the comms rights now though:

"What in the Hell are you thinking!? At first I thought you were just messing around and accidentally did that, but TWICE now!?! I checked the trajectory, if you had stopped a half-second later, you would've ended up mere meters from Neptune's upper atmosphere! Did you account for the possible sudden gravitational pull? Can you maneuver that lumbering ship fast enough to not get pulled down? Not to mention Hyperbraking severely impairs your cognitive abilities for a moment? A moment that you need to be clearheaded for or risk DEATH!?!"

The three siblings could only hang their heads in shame and mutter out some weak apologies. After a moment of silence and reflection, Yakovskii speaks in a warmer tone:

*sigh* "Look, I understand it's a fancy new toy and you want to see what you can do. I get it, I really do. Me and my brother used to play vertical hockey the first time we got our hands on a surplus gravity field generator. But we first figured out how to make sure we didn't break our bones in case it failed. Seriously, never forget to consider your own safety first before you try out new things in a peaceful environment. You're not being chased by pirates or trying to avoid the law or whatever.

Take your time, pick a starting position that's further away and keeps Neptune and any of its moons to the side of the station, then aim for an area of space that only has the outer range of the defenses and empty space ahead from your point of view. And please set the regular Hyperjump destination within Sol, don't just pick a random place. The Hyperbrake sometimes loops in on itself and never executes the brake and can only be reset once out of Hyperspace. You don't want to get stuck in a pointless jump for hours do you?"

After this admonishment, the siblings apologized more energetically and took his advice to heart. They spent the next hour competing until all three were down to single meter differences and kinda got bored, so they docked at the station and hung out with the off-duty staff, played some poker, but then dad barged in and dragged them all home. They were not invited to the barbecue gatherings for two weeks, but only because mom told him to. Personally he was excited about all the data his kids had unknowingly given him with all their jumping and braking, a real stress test for his beautiful Hound Dog.

[reading-hub]

Teachers Pet 🍎💋 [ part 9 ] Weekday Rescue!

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI // 18+ only

PHOTO 📷 CREDIT • ♥️ DIVIDER

⚠️ Caution Warning ⚠️ TEACHER X STUDENT - - TEACHER CRUSH - - AGE GAP - - LEWD FANTASIES - - SLOW BURN

We’re back in business, babes! ✨ we finally made it ! enjoy a long cute chapter <3

[part eight]

🔅 〰️ 🔅 〰️ 🔅 〰️ 🔅 〰️ 🔅 〰️ 🔅 〰️ 🔅 〰️ 🔅 〰️ 🔅 〰️ 🔅

Aizawa was currently fixated on exams and hero work. Even though he still had a hero mentor to check up on his progress out in the field, Aizawa was able to catch up with the big leagues.

Even his older peers were shocked by his maturity and professionalism.

With the help of his team, he was able to bind down a sketchy villain. He was easy to pin down, a low level goon for sure but he was quick on his feet and had super speed.

The team from his hero agency found themselves thanking the young third year for the help. Without his erasure quirk, they probably would’ve ran around in circles looking for the low tier villain till sunset.

Aizawa could only tug his scarf and muttered thanks. He still wasn’t use to receiving compliments.

“Truth be told, but I think you gotta give yourself more credit, Aizawa.” One of the masked heroes chuckled lightly.

Another one chipped in. “Yeah, I admit, I was afraid of your quirk being a danger to us but you’re a natural at using it against those villains.” They laughed nervously. “Glad you’re on our side.” A sidekick added after.

To Aizawa, it feels weird after finally receiving recognition. The last time he had this amount of support was from only one teacher…

But sadly, the semester was close to the end and his studies were more focused on hero work than ever before. That meant general education became sidelined or given not much time at all.

Aizawa got to see less and less of Miss (Y/n) as hero agencies contacted UA and scooped up promising third year students.

Yes, he knew this would happen when he applied at UA but that was before he knew he’d catch feelings for a certain teacher that was kind and caring to him for the first time.

You were the very few people that encouraged him and wanted to see him succeed. And it actually felt genuine when you said it.

It felt..nice to hear…

Maybe he’ll go visit her after field training..it is a weekday so she’ll definitely still be at UA teaching. He concluded to himself.

Patrolling around his assigned town, his mentor told him he should probably take a break.

Aizawa found himself hungry and walking to the closest convenience store nearby to grab a snack.

As he walked, two young kids approached Aizawa with a cute curiosity.

“Whoa! A hero in training!!” Aizawa had to admit, after receiving looks from adults who passed by him with some passive looks, it felt weird hearing a kid praise and gush about him.

“That costume is super cool! What’s the scarf made of?” the kid pointed directly at Aizawa's bandaged scarf. The teen was at a loss for words, he didn't expect so much attention this quick. He told Hizashi that this was the only part of being a hero he wasn't the biggest fan of. The attention and media stuff.

"It's actually a special bandage made especially for my powers." Aizawa let it slide since they were kids and were curious about a hero's costume.

"SOOO COOL!!!"

"When I become a hero, I'm getting a cool scarf!"

"Whaaaat?? No fair! I called dibs!"

"Since when?" "Since now!"

The kids soon ran off, still going back and forth about hero costumes, leaving Aizawa confused and by himself again.

He strolled into the convenience store and was greeted by a friendly clerk at the register. He could use a snack for today. He sighed as he walked around the small aisle of chips. All these looked pretty good. But alas, he was short on cash, only enough for a small bag and a subway back home.

Aizawa could take what he can get. Hopefully, there's some home-cooked food waiting for him.

A bell rang as the store's door opened, Aizawa could faintly hear small heels clanking against the store tile floor.

Aizawa didn't think much of it until he heard a voice.

"Got any scratchers today?" A woman's voice perked his ears a bit. His head peeked from the aisle, viewing the women standing in front of the register as the clerk looked behind him.

Aizawa walked towards her, chips he found in hand.

"Miss (L/n)?"

She let out a small gasp and turned her heels, facing her student. "Oh! Aizawa, what a nice surprise!" She warmly smiled at the third-year student. Aizawa admitted it, he was happy to see her again. Her smile was kind and sweet, and her figure was also something he missed too--damn it! Now is not the time...

"How are hero studies going?" she asked. "I've been told third-year students are working as heroes full time now." She added.

Gosh he missed hearing your voice so much! He felt his neck feel hotter by the second seeing your pretty smile.

Aizawa did his best to look cool and unbothered, unfortunately that left him stunted with his words. He tugged at his scarf a bit and replied, “Yeah, we’re getting a lot more involved with the police and crime is getting a lot more overwhelming to patrol around towns and cities.”

Aizawa may have over exaggerated with the work stuff in order to sound busy then he was. He didn’t wanna be cottled but at the same time, wanted Miss (L/n)’s praise on how hard he’s worked…just a bit of an ego stroke…please.

His English teacher only nodded and hummed at his reply, eyes winded in shock when he mentioned the overwhelming assignments.

“Well I must say Aizawa, you seem to be holding your own, despite the circumstances.” She smiled. “Keep this up and you might surpass all the pros and adults in the near future.” She winked, teasing but encouraging the young hero. Aizawa was taken aback but humbly thanked her afterward. Definitely reminding him why he still has a small crush on you…

“Five scratches for you, miss?” The clerk spoke up, waving the lottery cards behind her. She turned her heels and attention away from the third year, she smiled and perked up, “Oh yes! Thank you sir! These will do fine.”

Aizawa walked his way back to the corner aisle where all the chips were and went straight to the fridge doors to find a cold drink to wash down his chips with.

Aizawa knew that this fantasy crush wouldn’t make sense in reality. Miss (L/n) clearly saw him as just a kid, nothing more. Although the teasing was friendly and a nice ego boost, it was just that, friendly.

It could never be.

Another bell ring chimed the store. Aizawa heard but wasn’t in view of who it was. (Y/n) was leaning by the counter, scratching her lottery tickets with a coin, taking her time.

The soles of military boots stomped down against the thin tile. The clerk perked his head and smiled.

“Welcome sir! Just browsing through or—“ A gun clocked and silence came almost immediately.

A rough scuffed voice could be heard. “Give me everything in the register.” He warned. (Y/n) gasped immediately, dropping her penny that she was using to scratch her ticket. She and along the clerk raised their hands up slowly, fear and worry on their faces.

Aizawa sharply turned, panic ensued. He immediately laid low within the small aisle. Gulping as sweat beads followed. This was not good. At least he knew the robber didn’t know he was here.

The celebration didn’t last though as his anxiety shot through the roof when he peaked his eyes through the counters and saw Miss (L/n) shaking, her standing frozen solid in fear. Crap! She’s a hostage too!

“Anything else s-sir?” The clerk muttered lowly. The robber hummed to himself.

“Get me some smokes! Actually, on second thought, some cigars.” The robber chuckled.

He gritted his teeth and brows frowned. The lowlife of robber wasn’t gonna get away…not on his watch.

Although anxiety got the better of him as he came back to reality. He couldn’t call for backup! Any communication would make too much noise and draw attention to himself. Making three hostages in the process. If was gonna prevent this robbery with no one getting hurt, he had to make his moves count!

The clerk gave the man a small package of cigars, as he did the man turned his attention to (Y/n), darkly smirking as he looked at her figure up and down. The teacher blushed and a look of discomfort followed.

“I’m taking this sexy minx with me!”

(Y/n) tried to get away but was pulled by her collar and her back was against that scumbags chest who soon chuckled darkly after. He’s hand grabbed both her wrists together and the other held a gun to her head. She gritted her teeth and struggled at his grasp.

“Let me go you, dick! You got what you wanted!” She spat, hatred and spite lingered in her words as she cursed at him.

“Nah doll, with this cash and cigars, we’re gonna have some fun together.” She was absolutely disgusted. Such scum, so greedy and pathetic that he could’ve just walked away with the money. The robber meanwhile was smitten and full of life, even after receiving a death glare from her.

“Oh don’t give me that, doll!” He teased, tightening his grip on her. She winced in pain, still eyeing him up with hate and scorn.

“I don’t see any pros here..” he laughed. “So who’s gonna stop me?”

“Nothing can! That’s what!” He answered himself confidently.

Aizawa knew that was his cue, he wiped his scarfs as far as he could, taking him by surprise!

Just then, the robber slipped on the tile, landing on his side. Unbeknownst to him as he boasted his victory, Aizawa wrapped his scarf around the robber’s ankles, pulling it caused his legs to fused and fall on his face against the tile.

Miss (L/n) quickly followed suit and elbowed the scums’ stomach to keep him down, running away as Aizawa rushed in.

Aizawa took the liberty of pinning the robber down on the cold tile as he had him all tangled up to make sure he wasn’t gonna move a single inch!

Aizawa called the police and said they were on their way. Miss (L/n) approached the clerk and ask if he was alright. Clerk nodded his head, still pretty shaken up. The teacher gently took him outside the store for some fresh air and assured him. “It’s all over, sir. The police are on their way.” She looked back and saw Aizawa still restraining the guy, and noticed how knocked out cold he was. Thank goodness.

She was immensely proud of Aizawa tonight! He handled that scum robber like a pro (no pun intended) and did his best to immediately call for back up. He was improving fast and had the marks of a future pro hero, no denying that! She never doubted Aizawa in the slightest.

After the police and some local pros came to assist the aftermath, media reporters interviewing witnesses or as many people that could be asked questions about what went down.

You opted to only report to the pros, to be honest, it was mostly you praising young Eraserhead. Police questioned and asked you if you were hurt but you assured them nothing crazy happened. You mentioned that the robber was being kind of a creep but you decided to not press charges.

Aizawa was a lot more quieter than usual, seeing all these media reporters and onlookers at the scene wasn’t what he expected to be in the middle of. He originally came for some cheap chips for lunch and few hours later, he’s being bombarded with reporters asking who he is.

He just wanted lunch…

Although he’s glad you’re safe and sound. He didn’t expect to be your savior today. It genuinely annoyed him how that criminal was treating you like an object and asking you for ‘a good time’. Pathetic.

He didn’t realize how mad he got, that he must’ve pinned down the guy a little too aggressive that he accidentally knocked him out cold when the police carried him away.

Oops

Aizawa turned his head, Miss (L/n) smiled, ear to ear, approaching him.

“You did an amazing job today, Eraserhead…” she warmly praised, winking as she said his hero name. Aizawa’s heart skipped a beat.

“Not your scene huh?” She asked simply, noting his quiet demeanor at the cameras and loud bystanders. Aizawa only sighed and shook his head.

She gasped, an idea sprung from her head. Aizawa cocked his head in confusion.

“How about we get outta here, lunch will be on me.” She flashed a smile. Young Aizawa couldn’t agree more!

Maybe patrol wasn’t so bad after all…

((To Be Continued…))

🔆 〰️ 🔆 〰️ 🔆 〰️ 🔆 〰️ 🔆 〰️ 🔆 〰️ 🔆 〰️ 🔆 〰️ 🔆

THANK YOU ALL SO SO SO SO MUCH FOR BEING PATIENT AND READING MY STORY :DDDDDD

I know the last chapter was back in 2019 but thank you for sticking by my blog regardless 🥺 to show my appreciation, I made a tag list for those that wanna support and see new chapters for this series. Comment below if you wanna be apart of the taglist as well! You all give me inspiration and motivation to keep going with this series! Thank u ! <3 (see ya in 2027! haha jkjkjk)

@lhcartoonist

[thatacotargirl]

To the Ends of the Earth (2)

You asked for a part 2 to this, and part 2 you shall get!

Part 1 is here!

As always, inbox is open for requests for any ACOTAR characters.

Tagging @mybestfriendmademe for the kind request, thank you for your continued support angel 💖

Divider from the one and only @tsunami-of-tears! 💜

A Cassian x Reader Imagine

You wake with a groan. Your stomach was more settled and your head more calm, but a day full of agonising pain isn't the most conducive to a restful nights sleep. Rolling over, you are greeted by an empty bed.

It's hard not to feel a smidge of disappointment that Cassian didn't stay the night. You could have sworn that, last night, you'd heard him finally admit his feelings for you - the same feelings you'd harboured for countless years. Maybe your love wasn't as unrequited as you had once thought.

Dragging yourself up and out of bed, grateful to have not soiled your bedding once again, you head into the bathroom to freshen up and ready yourself for the day. The scent of Cassian still lingered on your clothes and it took everything in you to rip the shirt off your body and throw it in with the pile of dirty laundry.

Had Cassian really said that? Or had you dreamt it? Surely if Cassian really felt that way, he would have stayed? Or did he not realise you'd heard him? Did you hear him?!

You looked in the mirror and pouted at yourself. You were spiralling. Over a male, no less. Shaking off the thoughts, you got yourself washed and dressed, and headed to the dining room for breakfast.

-

Cassian and Azriel were already sat at the table, a bowl of porridge in front of them, chatting away. When you entered, both males fell silent.

"Good morning!" you called cheerily, setting yourself down at the table as the House placed a bowl of porridge in front of you.

"Morning, y/n. How are you feeling?", Azriel asked, shovelling another mouthful of porridge in mid-sentence.

"Better thanks, not 100% but better".

You glanced at Cassian, but he simply nodded into his porridge, avoiding eye contact with you. Huh?

"Thanks for you help, Cass", you offer him a smile - only to find it is met with indifference.

"Welcome", he replied, not even offering a glance up to you. You gaze over to Azriel, who simply shrugged, but you couldn't help noticing the small smirk he had on his face, and the sly nod he made in Cassian's direction. Cassian remained silent, finishing his breakfast faster than he has before, and left the table without Azriel, and without a goodbye.

"What was that about?!"

Azriel's smirk only grows bigger. He knows something, and I'd bet my right hand it has to do with Cassian taking care of me yesterday.

"Perhaps you should find out", Azriel offers, the smirk never leaving his lips.

Is that a challenge? I think it is. And if it's a challenge Cassian wants, it's a challenge he's going to get.

About an hour later, you find yourself heading up to the training ring atop the House of Wind. You have no intention of training today, still going through the throes of your cycle, but a little light stretching never hurt anyone. And, if you happen to be in the skimpiest pair of shorts you own, and the tightest sports bra barely holding you in, whilst Cassian is stood across the ring, that's just a coincidence - right?

Laying out your mat, you start some yoga poses, careful not to make eye contact with the Illyrian brothers sparring opposite you. Even without making eye contact, you can feel Cassian's gaze burning into your soul. You hear a sudden thump, and raise an eye to see Cassian sprawled on the mat, Azriel victorious on top of him.

"Distracted, brother?", Azriel asks mischievously. You have to hold back a giggle, carrying out another pose that you know makes everything stick out in all the right places. You hear Cassian huff, and watch discreetly as they start their sparring match again.

You stay for an hour, stretching out your muscles and working on some core balance, before rolling up your mat.

"Later boys", you call, throwing a wink in their direction. Azriel laughs, waving you off, but Cassian remains frozen solid - not daring to glance in your direction. It doesn't change the heady scent of arousal that wafts in your direction as you spin on your heels though, which takes on a distinct sandalwood tone, the same that had clung to your shirt last night.

Feeling pretty confident, based on Azriel's behaviour today and Cassian's response at the training ring, you decide to kick it up a notch.

You run yourself a bubble bath - which is realistically more bubbles than it is water - and settle yourself in. Cleaning off the sweat from your hour long yoga session, you wait patiently, listening for the distinctive heavy footsteps of the Illyrian General.

When you hear them walking down the hallway, you make your move.

"Is someone out there?", you call. You hear Cassian's footsteps stop outside your door.

"Y/n? All ok?", he calls back cautiously.

Carefully situating yourself so you are completely covered by the bubbles from the neck down, you smirk to yourself.

"Not really - I've got myself in a bit of a pickle and I can't reach it!".

You hear Cassian open your bedroom door and stifle your laugh when he pauses, clearly confused as to where you are.

"Can't reach what?"

"The shampoo, Cass. Give a girl a hand?"

You can almost hear his breathing from how deep it is in the adjoining room.

"Why can't you get it?"

"Why, because I'm all wet silly! Rhys won't be happy if I damage his floor by getting it soaked". You knew it was a bold-faced lie, the House would dry the floor instantly for you. He could correct you, he could tell you that the House would dry the floor, or that the House would even get the bottle for you if you asked it to. Or, he could walk in and give it to you. The choice was his.

You waited, almost giving up, before you saw the doorknob to the bathroom turning. Cassian walked into the room, hands over his eyes, as he reached out blindly to your shelves.

"This one?" he asks, holding up a body lotion.

"Nope"

"This one?" he asked, holding up a bottle of perfume.

"Cass, please just pass me my shampoo".

Cassian turns his back to you, making sure he can't see, before locating the shampoo and passing it to you without looking. You can see how hard his body is moving from his deep breathing.

"Thanks Cass".

"Yep, ok, good, welcome, is, um, is that all?"

He's flustered.

"Yes, thank you".

Then he ran, so fast he almost tripped on the carpet, out of the bathroom - your laughter following in his wake.

As evening approached, you began to get frustrated. You had spent the entire day taunting him, trying to get him to react, and the most you had got out of him was a blush.

You knew you weren't wrong - Cassian had some sort of feelings for you - and you wanted to know what they were. But, if he was going to play this hard to get, it was more than just a challenge you'd taken on - it was a damn suicide mission. You had to hit it in the one place he wouldn't be able to handle. You'd have to fight fire with fire.

As the Inner Circle gathered around the dinner table that night, exchanging stories of their day, your eyes fell to Azriel. He looked at you, confusion marring his face, until he saw your eyes glance over to Cassian, then back to him. His shadows, whirling around his face, filled him in on the rest of your plan; and Azriel smirked, leaning back in his chair.

Dinner was swiftly finished and everyone descended to the sofas in the main living room of the House, glasses of wine and whiskey in hand. You waited until Cassian was seated opposite Azriel, settled with his glass, before you made your move.

Sauntering up to Azriel, you gave him a smile, and sat down on his lap before taking a small sip of your wine. His legs moved, accommodating you, so you could lean against his chest. You didn't dare look up at Cassian, but you could feel the stares from the rest of your family, who were absolutely baffled about the scene unfolding in front of them.

"How about a drinking game?", you suggested, your voice cheeky and mischievous.

"Heck yeah!" Mor replied, "how about truth or dare? If you don't answer the truth or do the dare, you drink".

"Sounds great! Mor, you go first".

A few rounds went by and soon you were all in fits of laughter. Cassian had flown around the House of Wind entirely naked, Feyre had taken a shot of whiskey off of Rhysand's body, and Elain had admitted her crush on Lucien - much to everyone's whooping and excitement, and Elain's sheer mortification. Soon, it was Azriel's turn to ask you a question, and you saw the wicked gleam in his eye before he even opened his mouth.

"Y/n. I dare you to kiss me".

You gape at him, still seated in his lap. You can feel Cassian's gaze blaring at the back of your head as you turn to face Azriel. He winks at you knowingly, and you feel your confidence rising.

"Very well, I'm not one to turn down a dare".

You begin to slowly lean in to Azriel, eyes closed, before you are suddenly hoisted into the air. You open sharply, and realise you are staring down over Cassian's shoulder. You look up and see Azriel laughing on the sofa, Feyre in stitches on the floor, and Rhysand with a beaming smile on his face.

You stay silent as you let Cassian carry you up to his bedroom. He places you on the floor, his face red with fury.

"What the fuck was that about? Do you have feelings for Az?"

It was so comical, you couldn't help but laugh. Cassian stared at you absolutely bewildered.

"What's so funny?"

"He was doing it to wind you up, Cass; we were both in on it, I've been doing it all day".

"But why?"

You felt your own face flood red then, eyes on the floor as you fiddled with you hands.

"I heard you. Last night".

Cassian froze.

Several minutes went by in silence.

"Did ... did you mean it?"

Several more minutes went by before you dared to look up, your eyes meeting Cassian's. You saw the guarded look in them, his eyes searching yours. Clearly, they found what they were looking for, because his entire body softened.

"I meant every word of it".

You lunged at him, wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck as he hoisted you up and into his chest. You both stayed like that, holding each other for some time. When you lifted your head from his shoulder, you noticed he was smiling, his eyes swimming with love and adoration. You felt a warmth in your heart that you'd never felt before, and clung to him tighter, resting your head back on his shoulder with a sigh.

"I'd go to the ends of the Earth for you too, Cass".

[vannies]

malewife..? ft. HSR MEN

synopsis: what if the roles were reversed? you’re hard at work and these men take care of you when you’re home? <3

characters: jing yuan + blade + gepard ☆ gender-neutral reader

warnings: fluffy fluff fluff! | use of pet names ; ex. darling, my love, my everything, dear | possibly ooc but like.. you’re the worker here!

note: idk if anyone has done this yet.. might do this again with hsr powerful women but idk ^_^

w/c: 800+

✧ JING YUAN

the dozing general.

that’s what you were always remembered as. but you couldn’t help it, you just got so bored and tired of all the papers piling up in your office, who wouldn’t fall asleep? the only reason why you always finish your work in the end was so you could go back home to your sweet husband, jing yuan.

today was a particularly difficult day. you were stressed from all the staff begging you to do something about the missing papers for a new project.. but you simply told them it was too annoying! and went straight back home.

“i’m home, my love.”

jing yuan frantically appeared at the doorway, pulling you into a tight hug. he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, telling you how badly he missed you today and about how he cooked dinner for the both of you. wow..? him..? cooking dinner? must’ve been a miracle.

he put his hands on your shoulders, “how has your day been, dear?” all you could do was sigh and told him how annoyed you were, wishing it was possible to step down from your position.

he listened to every little word you had to say as you ranted and ranted. and as time passed, you slowly started to gather at the table with him. jing yuan sets up the food, bringing in some lovely dishes you didn’t know he could even create with those hands of his. you took your first bite into a promising looking steak. surprisingly, it was so good!

“wow, jing yuan! where did you get this recipe? this just made my day!”

he chuckles, smiling widely as he sees you genuinely enjoy it. giving you a cute kiss on the forehead, he tells you his answer.

“where’d i get it? i got it from youtube, my love.. yanqing showed me the video, telling me i should make it for you.”

✧ BLADE

oh wow. surely, you didn’t expect an outcome like this. a stellaron hunter being caught for two days? how embarrassing. thankfully kafka rescued you in time! but there was just one problem..

your husband, blade, hasn’t gotten a word from you ever since your capture. you worry for him, since kafka told you that she didn’t contact him throughout these 42 agonizing hours. instead of filing your report to your boss like always after a mission is complete, you immediately rush home.

running into your house and screaming from the living room, “blade! blade? i’m so sorry- i didn’t mean to get caught like that.. i-“

you could feel it. your lover’s hands slowly sliding to your waist, pulling you into a hug. his hands always fit perfectly. blade buried his head into the crook of your neck, and you can feel his breath.. slow and steady, as if he wasn’t at all affected by your short departure.

“i know.. i’ve known that this would’ve happened. just be careful next time, i’m just happy you’re okay.” he sighs, somehow pulling you deeper into his body as his lips catch onto yours.

all that you could manage out was a small whisper of his name, tears threatening to swell at your eyes. it’s only been such a short amount of time, but you truly couldn’t live without this man.

he picks you up bridal style and carries you to the couch, “rest, darling. i can bake a few sweets for you.”

✧ GEPARD

ah.. being captain of the silvermane guards was not an easy task. maintaining peace throughout the entire city everyday..? sign me out.. thankfully gepard landau has always been here to support you, motivating you to continue your work for him. you’re glad, glad to protect this city. but, you are even more glad to protect this precious being.

gepard wipes off the sweat from his forehead, a heavy exhale follows. he turns around and jumps at the sight of you home so early.

“ah! you’re home early.. you still have 2 hours left of your shift!” you tell him it’s alright, and that you just really wanted to see him. “ah.. is that so?” he says, “then you can see the surprise that i’ve prepared today!”

slowly walking to the table, gepard suddenly whips out a book in front of you. “tada!” he exclaims, “it’s full of all of our memories together!”

excitedly, you flip through the pages. ah! it’s when he proposed to you! and oh god, its a lovely family photo of the both of you with serval and lynx.. how sweet. was this all for you?

“i hope you like it..” gepard blushes, and inches his hands near yours. you notice, and grab him, pulling his hands up to cup his own cheeks.

“i love it, you’re my everything. i’m so lucky to come home to you everyday. i promise to work hard!” and with that, you seal that vow with a kiss.

[alcestas-sloboda]

I see so many reflections today from different people: someone woke up from the explosions, some from a phone call, some woke up and saw hundreds of notifications from different telegram channels. It is still so unimaginably bizarre. I have no ability to put into words the feeling of your world falling apart and we didn’t even understand half of the danger that was surrounding us. We were so damn close to disaster with half of Europe believing that nothing good will come out of it.

Ukrainians didn’t care what Europeans thought though, I personally saw news pieces about "Russia will take control of Kyiv" a lot later, somewhere in May, when Ukrainian military took control over the north of the country. And I’m so eternally grateful to every Ukrainian who made sure that all this "experts" sat in those flashy studios red from guilt. I’m grateful for my life, I’m grateful for our Ukraine. She persist. She is still the love of our lives. She’s hurt and devastated but she lives despite all the attempts to destroy her. Same as us. Somehow still here.

Yet I feel more detached from the western world than ever and I’m so fucking jealous of you all. It’s not even about the rockets or shakheds - somewhere along the lines you accept the fact that you may die in any moment - it’s about normal things like your Twitter feed that doesn’t look like a necrology, military terms that don’t make any sense to you, your city that doesn’t stop everyday to mourn the dead, you don’t feel guilty for trying to live a normal life while your classmate, who wanted to be a director, posts stories from the trenches. All of that and more. I’m not even entitled to my emotions because there always will be someone who says that my country is not suffering enough. I no longer react to comments like this as emotionally as I’ve done before but it is still so bizarre to see stuff like that from people whose countries have always been the one to inflict suffering on others.

I may sound mean or sarcastic or whatever but there is so much negativity inside of us that was put there by people like I’ve mentioned above that it is going to be released from time to time. "Your country shouldn’t exist", "Only 9 thousand killed", "You all are nazis/racist/zionists/any of the -ist terms" - yet you should always react in a constructive way because the moment you let your emotions go, you are the worst person on the planet. But who am I kidding, some people here do believe that we are. There is a thousand bad people with sketchy patches in a 40-million country and suddenly "That’s why I no longer support Ukraine". Well, honey, that means you never did. Because Syrian flags were quickly replaced with Ukrainian ones and just as quickly with Palestinian. It’s not about the "Support the oppressed", it’s "Anything to not feel guilty" because then you’ll find the reason to hate Palestinians, just as you did with us. If only you cared about the problematic shit happening in you country as much as you care about our political and social life.

But there are people who still are there for us. Countries that are still here. We may not say it as often but we are thankful. So very thankful for everything you’ve done and are doing for us. Thank you for hearing us and uplifting our voices.

Recently one of the most beautiful people here have lost her life defending me and you. She was always in my notes, always making sure that we didn’t feel uncomfortable even if she of all the people had all the right to be upfront about her thoughts and feelings. I don’t think I will ever get rid of the feeling of guilt. She was there while I wasn’t. She said to mourn her through anger. Anger towards the oppressor. Anger that should be directed into something useful: donations, sharing info, contacting your MPs and so on.

The soldier‘s death is not something out of ordinary during the war, it’s not considered a war crime but what if half of the army are civilians? Volunteers who left their homes to protect them. What if the soldier was a teacher, a poet, an actor, an IT-specialist, a scientist, what then? Isn’t it a tragedy? My country is loosing yet another generation of beautiful talented people and it makes my view of the future even darker.

But what can I say? I’m still here. My country still stands. Ukrainian air defence is doing everything possible and impossible to protect the lives of the civilians. Ukrainian military is still the only thing keeping us all alive. Heroes, titans, gods. Glory to them. Eternal glory to those who lost their lives defending Ukraine.

To Ukrainians: якось буде, прорвемся.

[heygerald]

Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 12

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. In the aftermath of Tom's simple but complicated favor, Parker is forced to finally face reality, and decide once and for all what she wants.

Read the story here: prev / ...

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Melissa's voice echoed across the empty store, each syllable raspy and drawn out, tinged with the same sort of disbelief that has been simmering in Parker's chest all day. "But holy fuck."

The disbelief spirals and explodes, and Parker can't the help the laugh that is startled out of her from the unexpected curse.

"Excuse me," she drawled, aiming for levity, but falling somewhere in the realm of pure shock. "But since when do you curse?"

"Since about eleven am this morning," Melissa chirped back. She's slouched in the reading chair, hair piled on the top of her head in a janky bun, mascara smeared all along her cheeks, and if Parker hadn't been so thrown off by her sudden use of French, she might have taken a moment to reflect on the fact that this is the most out of sorts she has ever seen the girl look. "It just seemed like a good time to start. And, honestly? I kind of get it now. There really is no other way to express yourself properly, is there? Because—I mean seriously, Park—what the fuck?"

Parker knew that she should be scolding the young girl for her language. The last thing she needed was to garner the wrath of a disgruntled mom on top of everything else that she's dealing with. More importantly, she really didn't want teaching the youth curse words to be on her yearly karma bingo card. But... honestly, Parker couldn't help but agree.

There really was no better way to put it.

"Touché."

"Did you know that he was going to post that?"

Parker arched her brow at Melissa. "Do you think I would have left you to cover the shift alone if I knew that this was going to happen? I don't even follow his Instagram. Although, guess I have to after this, don't I?"

Melissa rolled her eyes, head lolling to the side as she stretched out her arms, back, and neck. "Only you would get an exclusive shout-out from the Tom Ryder and you aren't even following his Insta. Totally unfair, by the way."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is my sudden luck raining on your plans somehow?"

"It's not luck."

Parker slumped on her elbows, a pen stuck sideways in her mouth as she tried to work through her to-do list for closing down the shop. It was hard to concentrate with Melissa's jabbering, though, and it was even harder to find the energy to sweep the shop when she'd much rather just collapse onto her bed. "What else would it be?"

Melissa blinked at her with a tart expression. "Um, hello? You're dating Tom Ryder. That might have something to do with it."

So surprised by the comment, Parker scratched a line across her notepad, and subsequently decided that her to-do list could wait till later. "We're not—I'm not dating Tom."

"Sure," the girl snorted. "He just hangs around your shop all the time, invites you over for parties, gets dinner with you, and—oh yeah—posts you on his Instagram."

"He didn't post me—"

"But, whatever," she continued, already moving on to the next topic. Parker watched as she bent forward and, with a grimace, tried to rub some feeling into her ankles. "I lost feeling in my toes, like, three hours ago. Is that bad? I mean, I'm not gonna have to get an amputation or anything, will I? Because I'm not missing out on Stacy Jordan's sweet sixteen because of you. Her parents rented out this huge dance hall, and they even hired a DJ."

Parker sighed.

Melissa's train of thought was something that she would never be able to keep up with, and today in particular she did not have the stamina to even try. Sourly, she said, "I told you that those shoes weren't very supportive—"

A book is lobbed in her direction, and Parker ducked behind the register before it can make contact.

The loud fwap of it hitting the ground echoes between the two.

"That better not have been a new edition."

"Oh, fuck off," Melissa said.

Parker returned from her hiding spot—back aching when she sits up, neck hurting when she props herself atop an elbow, eyes burning as she squints at the largest stack of receipts she's ever had before—and clucked her tongue. "You know I think I like this new you. You should curse more often."

"Pf. You just want to get rid of the swear jar."

"Well," she hedged, eyes darting to said jar, "it would save me some money. Unless you feel like paying up anytime soon. That's, what, three f-words? I'm not going to turn my nose up at fifteen bucks anytime soon."

Melissa gave an unbothered snort. "You wish."

"So, it's just a punishment for me, then?"

"You won't even need that thing after this week," she pressed on, sinking deeper into the worn out plush of the reading chair as her gaze slowly drifted across the bookstore. The shelves are the emptiest they've ever been, and the decorations they worked meticulously hard to find are in disarray from the constant throng of customers today. It's not a problem they've had before, having to reset the store after closing, but Parker supposes that's a good problem to have. "My feet hurt because of how busy we were, not because of my shoes—which, by the way, I had to wait in line for two hours to get—they will be supportive if I want them to be. Does this mean you'll finally hire Emily?"

"Emily?"

"My best friend. I've introduced you, like, ten times."

Parker conjured up a blurry image of a blonde girl, identical to Melissa in every way except for their different colored hair and eyes, with matching braces to boot. She thought she was nice, but, honestly, she can't really recall. Whatever. "Why would I hire Emily?"

Melissa scowled. "Well, that's rude. Just because she's my best friend doesn't mean that we're going to goof off or anything. She's just as hard of a worker as I am. You'd practically be getting two employees for the price of one if you hired her. Plus, it would drive Maddy H crazy if Emily got to work at Tom Ryder's bookstore and she didn't."

"It's not—" Parker started, before shaking the thought away. Bigger things to focus on, she reminded herself. "I thought we talked about this. I can give you a raise, but I can't afford to hire someone else."

"Uh, correction, you couldn't afford to hire someone else."

Parker puts the stack of receipts away, mind slowly but surely drifting to the next task as she attempts to lock the register down. She would definitely have to stop at the bank tomorrow to deposit their cash from the day—not a problem she had ever had before—and she mentally adds that to the list of musts. "Did I win the lottery without knowing it or something?"

Her question hangs flat in the air, and in response, Melissa curls a disbelieving look in her direction. "You're kidding, right? Did you see how busy we were today?"

"Right, listen," Parker started, but by how intense Melissa's eyeroll was, it was obvious that the teenager would not, in fact, be listening. "One good day of sales doesn't override an entire quarter of awful sales. This was just—just a fluke. I can't just hire Emily on a whim because we had one nice day. Ever heard of a rainy day fund?"

Melissa, hand in the air as she inspects the damage to her manicure, scoffed. "Yeah, but it's not just one good day."

"Are you secretly working at a different bookstore in your free time or something?"

"Oh my god," Melissa moaned, before dropping her boots to the ground with a heavy thud. "Right, you listen."

"Oh, here we go—"

"Park, I know you're big on self decrepitation and whatever—something I'm guessing you learned from your total has been of a brother—"

"Wow. You know, you two have got to figure out whatever this beef is about," Parker interrupted, only to be promptly ignored as Melissa stood.

"But this isn't just going to die down," she said, the stack of bangles on her wrists jangling as she made air quotes to emphasize her point. "Tom Ryder gave you a personal shout-out on his Instagram. That, like, never happens. The only things he posts are selfies, and paid promotions. In February, he posted a three second video about his Erewhon smoothie, and they're still selling out on the daily."

Parker frowned. "Smoothie?"

"So not the point," Melissa grumbled with another jingle of her bracelets. "The point is that this—" she gestured around them, to the bookshelves and the roof and the chair beneath her with one long sweeping motion, "just hit the jackpot. Kay? This is going to go viral, and when it does, you're going to have crowds like today every day."

That doesn't sound right. Parker knows that Tom is famous, that he has millions of followers on all of his social media, and that there are fangirls out there of his even more obsessed with what he does than the one scowling across the room from her. But just because he posted her store doesn't mean that she's going to have throngs of fans outside, day after day.

That sort of thing just... didn't happen.

Not to people like her.

Right?

"Okay, well, I mean," she started, struggling to put her thoughts into words after all of her braincells effectively went on vacation for the weekend. The cash register snapped shut with a metallic clang, and she dangled the key between her hands mindlessly. "Even if we go viral, we'll be popular for a bit, but not for, like, ever. A month, maybe."

Melissa blinked at her in that sort of way that means she's judging her, and when she hefts herself to a stand, Parker can feel the lecture about to come. "Look, I know you're a millennial and you aren't really active online, so I'll break it down for you."

"How gracious," she snarked, rolling her eyes.

"It's going to be like this—like it was today—for weeks. Until something new or something better comes along, but even then you're going to have Influencers coming in for pictures, wanting to stake a claim on this place just like Tom did. Okay? Which means more pictures, more shout-outs, and more people seeing this place on their FYPs."

"FY—?"

"So, yeah, maybe this place isn't going to stay viral forever, but that just means it's all the more important to capitalize on the attention while you can. If people are flocking here just to get stuck in long lines because there's only one employee during the day, then they're going to lose interest faster."

"I know how business work," Parker interjected, offended on her own behalf, but Melissa didn't seem to care one way or the other about her feelings.

"So you know that you need to dress to impress."

Parker narrowed her eyes at the girl shrewdly. She was staring to get that familiar feeling in her gut that Melissa was winding up for some big scheme, and previous experience had proven that when Melissa really wanted something, Parker was helpless but to give in. "Is this just some big production so I'll hire a bunch of your little cheerleading friends?"

The face she made was lethal. "First off, Emily doesn't cheer, she does dance, and that sort of tone is both condescending and so not cool. Secondly, it's an excuse to hire someone else so I don't get stuck like I did today when my boss decides to go gallivanting around town without her phone!"

"I wasn't gallivanting," she defended. "It was, just, an unfortunate—"

"Parker," Melissa said, leaning on her elbows until they were inches apart. "Hire some more people, or you're going to have to work every shift of this store forever because I don't ever want to experience that rush alone again."

Ugh.

The girl had a serious point—about everything, it seemed—but Parker was in no mood to think about any of that. "I already said I'd give you a raise."

"Well, that is a given," she chirped, gathering her purse and jacket from behind the counter. Parker might have been more put off by her attitude if she didn't think the girl deserved a hearty raise. Afterall, she was a little mastermind in her own right, as terrifying as that could be. "But I'd also like to have extra help, and it's no one's business if that extra help is a couple of my friends from school. I take this job seriously, you know. I wouldn't recommend her if she wouldn't be a good employee."

"You're a menace, you know that, right?"

Melissa smiled, and for the first time all day, it seemed more conniving than tired. "I'll send you her resume."

"No, no, no, that's not what I just—"

"And, anyways, she's just as big of a fan of you and Tom as I am. I mean, obviously, she's never met him, but I tell her everything. She totally ships you two. Probably not as much as I do, obviously," she trailed on, finally getting around to swipe the mascara off her cheeks as she bent even closer into Parker's space, "but she's invested. I think it's totally time you post him on your story."

"My what?"

"I mean, he already posted you. Or, you know, your store," she corrected herself, waving a hand around flippantly as if those were the same thing. And, maybe, in the mind of a teenage fangirl, they were. "Relationships are never official until it's on the page."

"We're not—"

"Have you thought about a ship name, yet?" she barreled on, completely ignoring the fact that every extra word she said was only compounded the migraine growing between Parker's temples. "Because I think Ryvers is so, totally cute, but Emily likes Parom better. Although, that sounds a little—"

"Okay, alright, that's it," Parker stood from her stool, and in the matter of seconds had shooed the teenager outside with as much decorum as she could muster. It was ruined, of course, by the bright red blush sprawling across her face like wild fire. "Goodnight, Melissa. Thank you for your help today, I will see you next week."

"But—"

"Goodbye!"

She shut the door with the jingle of the overhead bell and promptly slumped against it. A few beats passed before Melissa's boots clomped off in the direction of the bus stop, and when it fell silent outside, she glanced around. The store at night, with the main lights switched off and the crackled radio drifting from the corner, felt eerily empty after the busy day they had. And while the trash absolutely needed to be taken out, and the shelves needed to be catalogued for what she would have to put in her upcoming order, for the first time ever, Parker decided that there were some things that could wait until tomorrow.

After all, she had a boy to talk to.

---

"Are we dating?"

Tom, dressed down in some Nike sweats and a simple black tee with sleep marks red on the side of his face, blinked at Parker like she was on drugs. And, honestly, she supposed that was a fair assumption to make. After all, it was nearing midnight by the time she pulled into his driveway, unannounced, her hair mussed like a bird's nest from driving the entire way into the Hills with the windows down, and the anxious energy from the day's chaos had yet to make itself useful other than by adding a shakiness to her hands.

And while she had spent the entire drive over contemplating all the things that she wanted to ask him, the first thing that had come out of her mouth when he opened the door was that.

"What?"

Parker winced, anxiously wringing her hands together, before she pressed inside. She supposed having a mansion in the Hills meant that even the closest neighbors were too far away to hear anything, but the idea that there might be someone witnessing what likely could be considered a mental breakdown was not a comforting thought.

"I didn't mean..." she started, shaking her head, before she stooped to untie her shoes. That proved to be an impossible task with how shaky her hands, were, however, and in the end she just kicked them off with a grunt. "That wasn't what I—well, Melissa seems convinced that we are."

Parker could feel his eyes burrowing into her back, and Parker pointedly avoided eye contact as her cheeks flamed a hot red.

"Melissa," he echoed dully.

Cool, she thought to herself. Just be cool.

But the Seavers siblings were not known for their ability to play it cool, and while he drifted after her, Parker miserably tried to think of a way to explain her squirrel-brained thoughts without sounding like a lunatic.

"Well, you know, you posted me on Instagram."

"I didn't post you on my Instagram," he corrected.

And—shit. Wasn't that exactly what she had argued?

Parker was happy that her back was to him as her face flushed an even more indelicate red. It didn't help that there were lamps on all throughout the living room, orange and yellow hues of lighting casting shadows across her already warm face.

"I know, I know, and I told her exactly that, but she has it in her head that posting, well, my shop is the same thing as posting me and then she wouldn't shut up about it today. And now she wants me to hire her friend who is also convinced that we're, you know, dating, and I told her that she's—that that's not—you know..."

The knit of his brows made it painstakingly obvious that Tom didn't know, and honestly how would he? She didn't even know what she was trying to say.

"I... think I need a drink," she muttered, scurrying to the fridge where she withdrew two ice cold bottles of beer. IPAs were not her favorite by a long shot, but there were far more important things to handle, and without hesitating, Parker popped one open. A long swallow followed before she awkwardly slid the second bottle towards Tom. "Maybe I should start again."

His brows disappeared into his hairline, but the moment she met his eye Parker just knew that he was relishing in this particular conversation.

She planted her elbows on the counter, and caught her head in her hands with a whine. "I really wish that you had given me a heads-up about the post."

Whatever was smug withered and died. "A heads-up?"

"Just so I could have been more prepared, you know," she hedged, fingers nervously plucking at the wet label on her beer bottle. "Between the crowds today and my system freezing and Melissa pestering at me about our—you know—whatever, I feel like I've been running around like a headless chicken. It's been a lot to handle."

He was silent for a long moment, and by the time that she dared to glance at him he had managed to shake off any remaining sleepiness. Now, he scowled at her long and hard. "Right, well, next time I'll make sure to get your approval ahead of time. Should I have changed the picture too? Written a longer post about how much I fucking adore your shitty little store?"

Parker reared back. "Hey, it's not shitty."

"Right," he scoffed, shaking his head at her. "You know, most people would at least hold off on their complaints until after they've said thank you. Common deceny, and all that."

Parker deflated against the counter as Tom looped around the other side of the couch to sit down. There were pillows sprawled across it, a blanket pooling on the ground, and a Tom shaped indent in one of the cushions from where he had been sleeping before she showed up. When he flicked the tv off mute, Parker became increasingly aware of how poorly this conversation was going.

She took a deep breath and a long dreg of her beer before carefully seating herself on the table smack dab in his line of view. When he refused to give in, however, she took the remote out of his hand and flicked the tv off with a huff.

"Tom—"

But he wasn't having any of it, and he rolled his eyes at her so intensely that it must have hurt. "Oh, fuck. Look, if you're going to make this into some big lecture or whatever you can save us both the time and effort. I already spent the day dealing with this bullshit from Gail. I don't need it from you too."

As almost every mention of his producer did, that caught her off guard. "Gail?"

"Yeah, imagine that," he scoffed. "I try to do something nice, for once, and the first thing she does is yell at me because of it. And now you're here doing the same thing, and I don't even know what I expected, but it sure as shit isn't—"

"Why would she yell at you?" she interrupted.

He finished half of his beer in a swallow. "Why do you think?"

She wasn't sure. That was half the reason she asked the question, but when he tensed—as if preparing for that exact sort of answer—Parker's mouth snapped shut just as quickly as it had opened.

Why would Gail be upset?

Sure, she was his producer, and likely was miffed about missing out on her fee, but it wasn't like a percentage of twenty grand would have had any real impact on her salary. After all, Tom hadn't minced his words earlier when talking about how much of his yearly income went to the movie mogul. And Parker had seen her house; the woman wasn't going to be pinching pennies any time soon unless she was robbed at gunpoint. And even then she would probably benefit from her high profile connections.

Which meant if it wasn't the money that she cared about, it must have been...

Realization was a painful thing, and Parker rounded towards Tom with wide eyes. "She's upset because you did this without asking her?"

Another swallow of his beer. "I told you that I don't do stuff without asking her."

"But you did this time."

"Because she would have fucking said no," he ground out, distaste over even having to admit it obvious from his tone. "Which is fucking—I mean, it's my fucking life. I can do what I want. Should be able to, anyway. I'm the one making her money, but I do this one thing and she's all pissed off about it. You know how small that makes me feel? That she would even expect me to get permission from her?"

"Tom," she said, only to have him steamroll on.

"It's bullshit. Total bullshit."

"Tom," she tried again when he didn't seem to hear her.

But whatever floodgate he had opened wasn't closing anytime soon, and Parker felt her chest constrict. "Everything I do is because she tells me to do it. I don't even chose who I sponsor. But I do one post without her permission and get shit for it. And apparently, not just from her. Because you're here too, pissed that I didn't tell you ahead of time, and it's like no matter what I do it's—"

Not knowing what else to do, but knowing that she had to do something, Parker lurched forward to sling her arms around his neck. He went stiff beneath her touch, freezing as she attempted to pull him to her, before his hands slowly bracketed around her waist.

"What are you—?"

"I'm sorry," she muttered. Then, when that wasn't enough—because how could that ever be enough—she tightened her hold on him hoping that it might convey what she didn't know how to say. Parker shook her head into the crook of his neck, swallowing. "Fuck, Tom, I'm sorry. I didn't come over here to yell at you. I swear I didn't. I'm not even mad, I don't know why I said that thing about the heads-up, I just... I just was so overwhelmed today that I didn't know what to say or how to bring it up or thank you that I just—I just word vomited. Okay? I'm sorry. I am. I'm sorry."

"Hey," he said, arms tightening around her. "It's okay."

But it wasn't okay, and he had to know that. "But it's not, Tom. You just—you just changed my life, you know? What you did... I've never had that many people in my store before, and they were lined up, and the line didn't dissipate all day! I think I sold, like, half my inventory because of you, and if that continues even for a month then I'll be able to actually finance my store and I won't have to close and... I'll never be able to thank you enough for that."

She leaned back to find Tom frowning at her. "It was just a post."

"To you, and to Gail," she said, finally being able to express what she had been stewing on all day. "But to me... it's everything. I don't know how I'll ever be able to pay you back."

"Pay me back?"

"I mean, I could give you some of the profit, but it probably won't be much. Especially since I still have loans to pay off, and I need to get insurance, and fix the AC, and maybe even hire some new staff, but I'm sure I could give you percentage. Like, a little over time, and it definitely won't be much, but—"

She didn't realize she was rambling until Tom shook her. "I don't want you to pay me back, Park."

"But—"

"Nah," he said, shaking his head at her. One of his hands twisted into the cotton of her sweater, and for the first time that night, as he ducked his head to avoid her gaze Parker realized that maybe he was just as anxious about this entire thing as she was. "I owe you, okay. Not the other way around."

Parker couldn't think of anything more ridiculous than that, and her brows furrowed a divot into her forehead. "What are you talking about?"

He released a chuckle of disbelief, the sound low and raspy in his throat. "I know I'm an asshole. What you said when we first met, that day on the set, it pissed me off so much because... you were right, and no one else had ever bothered to tell me. I'm an asshole to staff and to the crew and to your fucking brother, but do you seriously think I'm blind to all the things that you've done for me?"

Floundering for words—and thoughts—all she could do was blink at him.

Tom glanced away, fingers wrapping themselves into her shirt, skating a burning line over her skin. "You—you're..." he started, before drifting off. Clearly, she wasn't the only person struggling to put their thoughts into words tonight, but Parker was too dumbfounded by the fact that Tom Ryder was admitting to be an asshole above all else, that she couldn't find the energy to interrupt him. "No one has ever... held me accountable before."

Even more bewildered then before, she stared at him. "And that's... a good thing? Because I thought that drove you crazy? I mean—"

"God, of course it drives me crazy," he cut her off with another chuckle. "But you do it because—because you see something in me that no one else does, you know? You see... me. Not the rich, famous me that everyone else sees and takes advantage of, but the asshole on the inside that no one else likes. Do you know how many people have found me in the bathroom like you did? Do you know how none of them have ever cared before?"

Parker's hands skated around his neck, desperate for something to hold onto, to feel, as she gently flattened them out on his chest. "You don't owe me anything for that," she said, shaking her head. "You didn't have to do this just to make up for that. I like being in your life, being your friend, your... I think more people care about you than you think, Tom."

He swallowed, and her eyes tracked the movement of his throat. "And you're the only person in my life that would say shit like that and mean it."

"Of course I mean it. I wouldn't lie to you."

"I know," he said, hands drifting further up her back, a connection that she didn't dare break as they settled into the groove of her spine. "And that's why I did it. So I don't want anything from you, alright? I just... want to give you this. Fuck Gail, fuck my social media manager, fuck all of them. Just this once I want to do something for someone else. Well, no, even that's a lie. Not for someone else, but for you."

Parker bit her lip, feeling her heart thump against her chest, and she was certain that he must have felt it too as she leaned against him. "Really?"

"Yeah," he said. "You're—just... you're not like other girls, you know that?"

Despite the tension growing between them, the softness of the moment and the tender way he was holding her, Parker couldn't keep back a startled laugh. And when she did laugh, Tom's hands paused in their movements, brows knitting a second time as he watched her with something wary struck across his features.

"Sorry, sorry," she said almost immediately, biting her lip, only for another giggle to escape. He looked truly put off then, and she carefully skated her hands back around his neck. "I just... sorry, I'm not laughing at you. That just so sounded like a line."

The wariness vanished, replaced by irritable fondness, and his hands pressed her closer. "Yeah, well," he said, that oh-so familiar smugness of his curling his mouth upwards. "What if it was?"

"Oh?"

He shrugged, pressing on. "Lots of girls would kill to hear that kind of line from Tom Ryder, you know? You should consider yourself lucky."

"I thought I wasn't like other girls."

"You're not. No other girl has ever driven me fucking crazy like you do."

"Flattering," she snarked. But the skate of his hands was starting to ignite a nervous fluttering in her stomach, and as her nails dug into his shirt, Parker could barely maintain a sense of decorum as she smirked at him. "Well? Go on then."

"With?"

"You've given me a line. I'm interested in seeing what other sorts of moves the famous Tom Ryder has to woo the ladies. You want to show me your wine cellar? Art collection? Is there a disco ball that comes down from your ceiling if I clap?"

His entire torso shook as he laughed. "See what I mean? You're drive me fucking crazy."

"Ah, maybe, but that wasn't a no—"

Parker swore that a single kiss from Tom Ryder had the ability to set her entire body alight. Sometimes, she wondered if he felt it too; the way the pads of his thumbs would trail a burning line along her skin or how her hands got shaky as she trailed them up into his hair. His hands certainly didn't shake; not when they pulled her sweater over her head or drifted along the length of her legs, fingers dipping into the ticklish spot behind her knees, tugging her impossibly closer before moving up, up, up...

This time, there was no party to return to, no busybodies to avoid or assistants needing Tom's attention in between fittings on set, and most importantly no phone to chirp at them or brother to distract.

There was just her and him, Parker and Tom.

And when the tension between them—once ugly and mean and festering and awful, now golden and beautiful and, maybe even destined—finally broke, she realized that it wasn't so bad to have someone to drive crazy; perhaps, even, it was the spark that she had been missing.

[bullet-prooflove]

From Slowdancing in the park lot prompt list

22. I gave your name as my emergency phone call

I get this would be a huge step for Sean Archer & Roxie

I you're feeling it

Sending hugs

Tagging: @soultrysworld @Mysticcandymiracle @kmc1989 @emilyjr @toasted-stiletto 

You don’t you realise you have a problem, not until you have to resubmit your paperwork to renew your contract. Your pen lingers over the emergency contact box and that’s when you realise…

You don’t have one.

In the past you’ve put your parents details but the last time you’d ended up in hospital they hadn’t bothered to show up. You’d been able to hear Boden’s voice echoing down the corridor as he lost his temper with your mother’s excuse about the gala.

“Your daughter almost died today and you can’t be bothered to show up.” He had bellowed into the phone before she’d hung up on him. You could tell he was still enraged about the whole thing when he’d stepped into your room a few moments later to tell you weren’t coming as you breathed in the oxygen through the mask attached to your features.

“You are not alone.” He had told you fiercely as he held your hand in his. “You have 51 and we will not abandon you.”

You hadn’t been able to speak so you’d squeezed his hand in understanding. After that there had always been a member of 51 attending your appointments with you, supporting you through rehab. The one you do end up attending alone because of a call out is the time you run into Sean in the café at Med. You probably wouldn’t have met if it weren’t for that incident.

A few months later you receive a medal for your bravery in the field and it’s another event your parents don’t turn up to. Sean does though, he’s on his feet applauding with the rest of 51 because he’s proud of his girl, of the challenges she overcame to make it back to them all.

Your pen hovers again over the vacant box, It’s only been six months but you have never loved a man the way you love Sean, you’ve never met someone so genuine, so caring.

“Roxie, I’m gonna need that form.” Connie says, lingering at the other side of the table and you hastily scribble Sean’s details into the box before you hand it to her.

It’s later that night that you finally broach the topic with him. He’s sitting in his arm chair with your curled up in his lap, your head resting in the crook of his neck as he flicks through the tv to find that show you like, the one about lunatics who marry each other at first sight. He still can’t believe that’s a real thing, it’s highly entertaining and completely maddening at the same time.

“What’s up baby?” He whispers into your hairline, his fingers combing lightly through your hair. “You’ve been quiet all night.”

“I did something today. I should have asked but I didn’t…” You say trail off as he tilts his head towards you, his eyebrows etching into a frown. “I just realised I didn’t have anyone else and you show up when I need you, you always show up.”

“Roxie.” He says soothingly as his thumb traces over your cheekbone. “I’m sure whatever you did is fine.”

“I put you down as my emergency contact.” You say finally, meeting his gaze. “It means if something happens to me on the job, you’re the first person they’ll call.”

You register the surprise on his features and your eyes sting just a little because you realise you’ve fucked up.

“Roxie.” He says softly as he draws you even closer into the shelter of his body, cradling you close. “You know I’ll always show up for you. I’m happy to be your emergency contact.”

You can’t vocalise the sense of relief you feel when you hear those words, you know he sees it too as he tips your chin up, his lips ghosting over yours.

“You’re not alone anymore baby.” He promises you. “You’ve got me to take care of you now.”

Love Sean? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[fluffysucker]

2. Everything is blue

A/N: Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female.

Angst train still going. I promise there is a plot and you will get more Bucky. In the meantime, please share your thoughts and how do you think it's gonna play out.

Likes, comments, reblogs are very highly appreciated

Feel free to correct me if you find any mistakes

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

It was rough. That's all you could think about. However, when anybody asked you, you never said it out loud. You didn't know why. You felt that maybe if you said it was a mutual decision, then things would be easier. It would make a bit of sense. But a part of you knew everybody saw right through your lies. How could it ever be easy?

Some time has passed since you signed the paper, making you officially divorced. Since there wasn't any big fallout between you and Bucky, you were able to settle everything without going to court. Bucky was already offering everything. He would be the one to move out, so you and the kids would stay in the house. And he was paying more than enough child support. The kids would spend the weekends with him as well. As said, there were no conflicts or arguments in the divorce except for your crushed feelings.

The arrangement was working. On weekdays, you had the kids. Bucky would call them daily. Then came the weekends when Bucky would have them. You were still adjusting. You never thought you would be a single parent. It's taking a lot from you to come to terms with your life now. You didn't have the luxury of time. You were a full-time mother along with your job. Your two children counted on you. They needed their mom to be focused and present. And you knew if you let yourself be, you wouldn't even leave the bed. So you bottled it up, kept it all in, acted as if you weren't dying every single day, and kept going on.

But seeing the man who broke your heart weekly wasn't making it any easier. You expected that it would only last for a while, and then Bucky would forget about the three of you. You were preparing for this. However, it never happened. He remained very present in the kids' lives. He kept in touch and knew everything about Lily and Theo. He even put so much effort into reminding the kids of his unceasing love for them.

He was still the best father you could have ever asked for your kids to have. He just couldn't be your husband anymore.

You were cutting the fruits into star shapes, just like they liked it. Then, add them to the bowl next to the crackers and the cheese. Lily and Theo were always hungry when they got back from school. You were expecting them any second now. Bucky volunteered to pick them up today. Both of you had to stay in very close contact for the sake of your young kids. Even if it was so painful to see him, you were willing to go the extra mile. Because your kids were your top priority.

You heard the door opening and your children's voices speaking thousands of words a second. You already knew they would be so happy that Bucky was the one to pick them up. With him away five days a week, the kids were always missing him.

It's a mutual decision to let Bucky keep his key to the house. All decisions regarding the kids were mutual. Other than that, you weren't sure.

"How was your day, sweeties?" You asked aloud as both of them ran to you and hugged your waist.

"It was great. Miss Sally really liked my project." Lily couldn't hide her happiness. She had been putting her heart and soul into this project for sometimes now.

"I knew she would. I'm so proud of you, baby." You pressed a big kiss to her hair. Then you turned to your son to ask about his day.

"It was good. But Karl's mom wouldn't leave us to come home when she saw Daddy." Theo told you as you gave him a kiss on the cheek as well.

You should have expected that. Everyone knew about you and Bucky's divorce by now. By no competition, Bucky was every woman's crush. All the mothers and teachers never even tried to hide their crush on the man. And nobody could blame them. Along with his attractive looks and killer body, Bucky was incredible with Lily and Theo, a true hands-on father. He was also very successful at his job. He was the whole package. But he was yours. And you used to make it clear that you didn't take well to flirting with your husband.

Now, he's not your husband anymore. So you should know that women would be throwing themselves at him. Especially those who already liked him, like Karl's mother. You hadn't thought of this yet. The fact that Bucky is single now He could go out with any woman he desired. He could touch, kiss, sleep with, and even love any woman. Any woman but you.

You shook the idea out of your head quickly. You were in enough pain. You didn't need an addition. You sent the kids upstairs to change, and then they can have their snacks. You turned to look at Bucky, who was standing by the kitchen door in all his glory. It was clear he left to get the kids straight away from work. You always used to tell him how formal attire fitted him and brought out his best features. You frowned when you saw the look on his face. What was it?

"I have bad news." You tried to control your breathing. You weren't ready for any more blows to your face.

"Tony and Pepper are in town, and they want to meet up." You groaned in annoyance. It was better than you thought, but still bad.

Tony Stark and his then assistant, now wife, Pepper, were friends of yours. Not as close as others, but still friends. Tony was one of Bucky's most important business partners. You really liked them. They were good people. However, They were the most extravagant couple you had ever met. Not only were they inseparable, they always had a story to tell. An overtop story for sure. And if they wanted to meet, you would have to meet.

Which was exactly what led you to your current situation.

Sitting in the café, which was clearly Bucky's choice, and you were thankful for that. But you weren't thankful for anything else. Tony and Pepper had been talking nonstop; you couldn't remember for how long. There were so many stories about their work, their new big house, their dates, their trips, and the new intern, whom they clearly were adopting. The list didn't end.

You tried to pay attention; you really did. But you couldn't when you had only one thing in mind. The way Tony had been holding Pepper's hand ever since they got her, drawing circles on it Along with the glimpse you got from their stories, you couldn't help yourself.

Tony held the same reputation that Bucky once did. A ladies man A playboy. A man nobody thought would settle down. However, when Tony did settle down, no one questioned him, and no one warned Pepper about him. Nobody doubted them. You couldn't say the same for yourselves.

"So what about you, guys?" Pepper's voice broke your train of thought. You looked at her with a fake smile.

"Anything interesting?. An amazing trip? Maybe another baby?" You could feel the tears forming in your eyes and the pain rushing through your body at Pepper's question. You quickly got a grip on yourself and managed to look normal again.

"Actually." You turned to Bucky, hoping he would be the one to tell them.

"We got divorced." And he did.

In any other situation, Pepper's loud gasp and Tony spitting his drink on you would be very funny, but not when you were on the receiving end of it.

Bucky moved quickly to hand you tissues as Tony apologised profoundly, which you reassured him was okay.

"When did this happen?" Pepper asked as the shock wore off.

"About a month ago." You let Bucky do all the taking, not trusting your voice to speak.

Another loud gasp escaped the couple. Their reaction had to be the funniest of all the people to whom you told the news.

"We thought it wasn't going to happen." Pepper's quiet voice didn't miss you, giving her a questioning look.

"I mean, we all thought it would happen eventually, but after Theo, we thought that was it. You guys were in for life."

"Yeah. It was kind of really expected early on, but not anymore."

"We used to place bets on whether you were even going to get married or not. We all lost them when he proposed."

You were putting all your efforts into controlling your breathing and stopping the panic from taking over. And Bucky's lack of answer wasn't helping. Did he always have this in mind? To leave you?

You were thankful that Pepper changed the subject. It's better to hear about their overbearing stories than how everybody doubted your relationship from the start. How was it doomed from the beginning?

Did Bucky have answers to all of these questions? You couldn't tell. You weren't able to read the man sitting next to you anymore.

With all this on your mind, before you knew it, you were leaving with a promise to meet again. You and Bucky got in his car together. You kept a little conversation going between the two of you. However, you avoided Tony and Pepper's comments like the plague. And you didn't know if you liked it or not. Would it be better if you knew more?

You've reached your house. You thanked Bucky for the ride and got into the house. You found the house better than expected. Uncle Steve and Aunt Sharon kept things in order. You went to your babies and kissed their cheeks as they were all watching TV.

"Get ready, sweeties. Daddy wants to take you out." Of course, that is why Bucky dropped you off. He wanted to see the kids.

Your kids' very excited squeals were the only source of peace you had lately. They put on their shoes and left right away for Daddy, who was waiting outside.

"How were Tony and Pepper?" Sharon came to help you as you started tidying the living room.

"Great. Did you know Tony got Pepper a huge bunny for Christmas?" You laughed as you recalled one of the many bizarre stories they shared.

"As a matter of fact, I did." Sharon replied as she finished putting the toys in their box.

"We all did." Steve joined the two of you.

"Then you must have known that mine and Bucky's divorce was coming. Apparently, you all did." You didn't mean for it to be bitter. You didn't mean for it to come out at all. It just slipped. Your act cracking a bit.

Steve and Sharon shared a look. They didn't know what they could say. What could they tell you? That they all expected it. But not now. Not anymore. That the timing was the surprise, but not the split. However,was it worth making you feel like a fool who believed in the love of her life? It wasn't.

You quickly recovered and changed the subject. Anything they would say wouldn't make it better. And you weren't looking for answers from them. They stayed, and you chatted for a bit. Nothing too serious. Just filling time instead of being alone.

However, after saying your goodbye as they were about to leave, Steve called your name.

Would it ever stop hurting? Was this really the end to yours and Bucky's story?

"Whatever happened. I want you to know that you saved Bucky's life. You gave him a purpose."

You had to bite your lip to stop the breakdown. You couldn't decide whether Steve's words were enough condolences or if they were only fuel for your fire. All you could do was give him a small smile.

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