#sleepy baby that plots revenge

[only-one-brain-cell]

Derek I don’t know what your talking about Spencer is a sleepy baby over there. Don’t disturb him he needs his rest.

[schemmentigfs]

Hi! I have a request on mean!mommy Melissa x R? When Melissa caught r flirting with someone (on purpose) and she decided to take R home and punish the hell out of R and comfort her after?

Tempting Fiery Redhead Devil.

summary: Jacob reveals that Melissa once told him that she wasn’t a jealous person. Outrageous by the made-up lie, you decide to take revenge by flirting with one of the teachers at the book club reunion without knowing that it would lead to painful consequences later at your girlfriend’s place.

warnings: porn with plot, mommy/mistress kink, a little toxic melissa? strap-ons, blowjobs, degradation, squirting, praises, fingering, oral, mentions of voyeurism.

shout out to the person who said that mel eats pussy for breakfast, CUZ SHE DOES! and for lunch and dinner too. 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩btw, I managed to get some free days so send prompts for me to write! :)

Monday mornings at an elementary school as a teacher were always quiet and ordinary, being the beginning of the week they ever tended to be slower or considerably boring. Even discouraging at times, and today things weren’t very different, actually it seemed the same old thing. Everyone who worked at Abbott Elementary was still sleepy and in a bad mood, trying to gather strength to start the day after a quiet relaxing weekend away from the common chaotic environment which seemed to take over the entire building.

You weren’t much different from the rest. Struggling with the urge to not to close your eyes and sleep on the hallway benches, exhaustion taking over every inch of your body. Which was quite curious and comical since your weekend off from work had been, to say the least, like a visit to paradise. On Saturday and Sunday you stayed at Melissa’s place, enjoying your girlfriend’s company in the little bubble that both built in these nine months of an established relationship.

You didn’t understand why you looked so tired. Most of the time, on those two days you and the older woman cooked together and cuddled on the couch watching romcoms — Melissa’s secret favorite genre of movies. A great counterpoint to the tough and mysterious persona she was known for throughout South Philly. Until the memory hit your head. In the middle of a scene from 50 First Dates, the redhead began to place heated kisses and bites on your collarbone starting a makeout session that ended with you under the sheets moaning and screaming her name while she went down on you.

“You taste so divine, babygirl,” she said between tortuous and slow licks. Seeming genuinely enchanted by your flavor. “I could spend hours with your thighs suffocating my head.”

As she savored your entrance, her fingers traced teasing circles along your inner thighs, sending shivers through your body. Her breath, warm against your skin, whispered countless promises yet to come, mingling with the soft hum of approval as she continued to explore your depths with a hungry curiosity.

You bucked your hips, moaning loudly, massaging the well-defined red curls that were slightly messy. “Feels so nice. More, please mistress!”

She moaned into your pussy, reaching out one of her manicured hands to twist your perk nipples. The pain made you tighten your grip on her hair, arching your back off the bed. The woman pinned your hips down again, you let out a strangled cry. Letting yourself get lost at the feeling of Melissa taking care of you, the way she knew how.

“Aw, that was such a cute noise, baby. Do you like it when mommy takes charge and praises you?” she talked you through it. “I know you do, so good for me, letting mommy play with you like this.”

Melissa placed a kiss on your clit, replacing her tongue with two fingers, making you cum at an impressive speed with a pitched gasp. While you were coming down from your high — eyes closed, body trembling and breathing heavily, the woman followed a trail of kisses and licks through your body until she reached your face. Where she captured your lips in a hungry kiss, making you moan as you tasted yourself in her warm skillful mouth.

When you part for the air, you mapped shapes into the freckles on her back. Looking at your girlfriend with doe eyes and a weak smile, still recovering from the orgasm and trying to control your irregular breath.

“Mel, can you approach a little more?” you broke the silence wanting more contact with her body. She giggled hearing your request and moved even closer. Not wanting to spend a second away from you.

“You're so good to me, hon,” she returned the smile, pressing a gentle peck on your cheek. “So good. I'm so proud of you.”

The next morning and also the last day you stayed at her house, the woman didn't give you any time or chance to rest. While preparing breakfast, she bent you over the kitchen counter and fucked you senseless with one of the strap-ons which she kept in a secret box that contained various sex toys that she used with you in bed. Things like vibrators, handcuffs and whips stood out in this huge selection of objects.

“Mommy,” you mewled between violent thrusts and hearing her animalistic grunts accompanying the movements of her hips slamming into you. “I can’t hold it any longer, please let me come.”

“That’s it, be a good girl and cum for mommy,” she whined, finding her own release after hearing you scream her name. Melissa gently pumped her cock inside you for a while, before pulling out with a kiss down your spine to relax your body on the aftershock. She throwed the harness on the floor to worry about cleaning up later.

You made a dissatisfied noise, feeling empty. She noticed and started calming you.

“I gotcha baby. You’re okay, now let’s get ya cleaned up and fresh.” The redhead carried you in her arms bridal style to the upstairs bathroom and kept her promise, giving you a warm, relaxing bath that you enjoyed every second melting on her embrace and sighing passionately with each caresses and kisses given.

After your shared bath, Melissa made blueberry pancakes along with strawberries and apple juice — your favorites — and took you back to bed. But this time, she didn’t start another round and just spooned you from behind, whispering sweet nothings as you fell asleep with an adorable smile on your face.

“So beautiful and precious,” she told you. “Ti amo, dolcezza mia. Sono la donna più fortunata del mondo.”

“I love you,” you managed to say sleepily, turning around to face Melissa and snuggle into her soft and comfy chest. That at this point had become your favorite place to sleep in peace, the sound of the redhead's heartbeat always calmed you down. “More than anything, babe.”

The last thing you felt before drifting off was a tender kiss on your hair.

That Sunday, you slept like a baby. What a completely unforgettable weekend, those pleasurable moments with your girlfriend were always cherished. No matter how much energy it took from you, leaving Melissa in complete control was special and made you feel loved in her presence.

Stopping walking for a bit as your feet feel sore through your green all-stars, you complain once again.

“I just need a double dose of caffeine and a medicine to calm down,” you breathed out, practically dragging yourself with your heavy bag on your shoulder. “Dude, why do I pack so much stuff in this damn thing? There’s enough props that could fit in Ava’s bunker.”

Mr. Johnson, who was sweeping the floor with small headphones humming the Jacksons famous Blame on The Boogie tune, laughs at your complaints making you startle, placing a hand on your chest while meeting his gaze. “You look like Ms. Teagues waking up confused in the nurse’s office after taking out the entire power in school,” he commented casually. “Where is that willingness? Does Ms. Schemmenti have anything to do with this?”

The mockery makes your cheeks take on a red blush. Everyone was now aware of your serious relationship and every opportunity given they found a way to make fun of the dominance she had over you, in a respectful way, obviously. No one would dare to disrespect Melissa’s precious girlfriend that she protected with all her heart.

You didn’t mind all that teasing of course, it was hilarious and a bit harmless when someone did it. Perhaps, these jokes were so good that they made you laugh genuinely. But since you’re known through the entire building as one of the shyest and quietest teachers, that often led to extremely embarrassing situations.

Like one time on development day where in the middle of Ava's ridiculous presentation, sharing what she had done over the summer vacation instead of her plans for school in the new school year. At the back of the library, Melissa began tracing imaginary patterns on your soft thighs, each movement closer to your core without caring about the rest of the staff present. Self-conscious and afraid of being caught, you grabbed her hand, pulling it away in dismay. But the ambitious woman just gave a smug grin and continued her ministries, earning a deep, shaky sigh to fall from your lips.

The redheaded teacher was only testing the waters, shamelessly teasing you to see how far you would reach the limit. That meant, begging to be touched by her.

“Lissa, we are in the same place as our co-workers. That isn't a great idea!” you protested, unsuccessfully trying to maintain your professional demeanor in public.

“Don’t be a pussy, you can handle it, dollface.” She replied with her pupils blown with desire, waiting for you to give in.

“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti,” you tried with a firm tone but were interrupted with a slap on your left thigh. That would definitely leave a mark. “What are–”

“Sarai una brava ragazza per me, o ti comporterai come una stronza?” Melissa scoffs with a humorless laugh, knowing that when she said something extremely dirty in her native language, it quickly turned you on. “O vuoi un altro segno rosso sul sedere?”

“Uh?”

She jeered with false sympathetic eyes. “Poor baby, cat’s got your tongue?”

“No, but..”

Barb, who was there that morning — almost fast asleep, and inpatient, noticed the almost inappropriate act in public and ended up reprimanding you and her work wife with an incredulous look. “Ladies, we’re on school grounds. This is a learning space, please behave.”

“Please forgive us, Mrs. Howard, it won't happen again!” you spoke out, chastising for sounding like an horny teenager caught by your parents in the middle of an intimate moment. “We’re just fooling around to take our mind off the nonsense things Principal Coleman says about her spiritual retreat.”

“Mmm, I see.” She hums, falling back asleep tired from all the chatter.

You put your hands on your face, feeling embarrassed and shy. Jumping on your seat for a brief second when Melissa puts her own palms on top of yours, making you look directly at her.

“Do ya think you can get away that easily?” your girlfriend teased with a tilt of her head, leaning in to drop a comment in your ear. “Bambina cattiva. I suppose mommy has to teach you a lesson. Doesn’t she?”

She wasn't suggesting what you were imagining, was she?

“I dunno if we should have a quickie in here. It’s easier and safer to do this at home, there’s more privacy and I don’t want to get on any trouble—”

“Shut up and follow me outside,” Melissa interrupted, grabbing you by the arm with a certain possession. The touch makes you squeal in pain. “Do I have to discipline you to be more obedient when receiving orders?”

“It will not be necessary. I’ll behave, ma'am.”

“Good.” She replied, satisfied with your answer. “See, you can obey me. It’s easy.”

The disapproval warning given earlier by Barbara was a little in vain, as minutes later the redhead ended up pulling you to the parking lot and covering your mouth, roughly fingering you in her car as a punishment for not keeping quiet. Risky but also hot.

“Mommy’s little slutty girl,” Melissa groaned in the backseat with a sweet ridiculous voice compared to the almost aggressive way she inserted four fingers into your tight hole. “So fuckin’ pretty, all mine.” The words made your walls clench around her, obtaining another moan to escape from the redhead’s labia.

“Yeah, mommy. Only yours,” you whimpered, before cumming hard in the older woman's strong arms. Collapsing as Melissa holds you tightly against her. “Fuck!”

“Questa è la mia principessa,” she concluded that day, tracing your lower lip with her finger affectionately. “Why don’t we go home right away, hon? I guess someone deserves to be rewarded for the good job she just did for me.”

“Please,” you answered with some difficulty, nuzzling your face in the crock of her neck. Inhaling the sweet aroma of jasmine from her perfume. You weren't so naive as you seemed, the reward meant that Melissa was going to let you touch her. And you would never refuse an offer to pleasure that goddess sculpted by angels.

“Please? Such an obedient baby. How could I deny something from a sweet thing like ya?”

Melissa was always attracted to your innocence and purity. There was something charming about the way you acted with any unintentional sexual provocation she threw your way, giving a shy smile in response or a nervous laugh. Or how you blushed afterwards when you asked her to explore something new in bed together, or buried your face in her chest when she showered you with kisses and called you her good girl. That drove her instantly insane. Since after all, you were just her pretty angel that she loved corrupting and ruining.

“Mr J..” you gave a panicked smile coming back from the memory, about to think of an excuse so you can run and get out of there as quickly as possible. “I-”

The janitor rolled his eyes in amusement when he noticed how desperate you were.“I'm only joking kid, chill out. What happened to your sense of humor and improvised jokes?” he questions. “I think the ghost of bad mood got you, boo!”

You raised your eyebrows without expressing any reaction. “Ghost of bad mood? That sounds like something my fourth graders would say.”

“And something you would say if you were in a good mood!” The guardian retorts. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to finish cleaning the rest of the hallway and classrooms before the rascals arrive. And please, no pornographic acts in my closet again. You're lucky enough that the hidden cameras didn't capture anything or maybe could end up having consequences.”

Oh, another honorable mention of one of the ‘secret and public’ makeout sessions between you and Melissa on school grounds, which ended with you both getting caught after sex by Janine, it's safe to say that this experience was definitive for you two agreeing not to have quickies in any corner of Abbott anymore.

“Yep, understood, Mr. Johnson. No more activities in your closet,” you lowered your head, giving a small groan in irritation.

You continued to walk towards the break room, relieved it was twenty minutes left for the first bell to hit. Opening the door, you find Melissa who was keeping her leftovers from the weekend dinner in the fridge. You lean against the wall, watching her with a goofy smile. She truly was a vision. Seconds later, the woman beams when she notices your presence, she is always mesmerized everywhere you are. According to her, your beauty was breathtaking.

“Hey, babe,” you greeted, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, enchanted by the way her bright eyes roamed your figure with adoration and longingly.

“Buongiorno amore,” she tells you gently in her sleepy morning voice and gives you a sweet peck on the lips. Normally Melissa didn’t show affection in public for preferring to be reserved — she wasn't a big fan of pda, jesting that sounded annoying. But lately she's been making an effort and exception after hearing you mention that it was one of your favorite love languages. “Someone seems whacked, hm?”

The false pity in her tone, doesn't go missed by you.

“I think a certain second grade teacher had something to do with it,” you playfully swat her on the elbow. “Earlier, it was a challenge getting up to change. I had to sit on a chair to put on my clothes, my legs were wobbly like jello!”

She laughs and boops your nose. “It means I fucked you well that weekend, honey. In fact, I can't wait to have a moment for ourselves again. So I can bury my head in your dripping cunt until you beg for me to stop.” Melissa whispers with a sensual wink and lets you wordless, returning to the usual table she shares with Barb.

If there was one thing she was good at, it was being a complete pervert. Consider it to be one of her many specialities. “Uh, right. That sounds perfect,” you stuttered and composed your posture to avoid shameless questions from the other teachers and move towards your main goal; the coffee machine. The staff room remained in a comfortable and compressive silence but something caught your attention immediately.

“What’s so hilarious there?” You asked in doubt as you turned on the almost broken machine with some difficulty to prepare a fresh cappuccino so you could recharge your social batteries before your students arrived that morning and heard Jacob and Janine whispering to each other excitedly. The small discussion between them echoed through the lounge, drawing the attention of the other teachers and staff members present in the room, who decided to ignore them. Finding the dynamic duo's infectious energy considerably irritating.

Gregory, who was sitting near the vending machine, exchanges glances with you and just shrugs at the interaction between his girlfriend and best friend.

“I have no idea what is being said, although it sounds very productive.” The teacher finishes, returning to pay attention to class planning and also to suggestions for his garden.

“Can this assumption be considered valid?” Jacob ponders with his hand on his chin, thoughtful for two measly minutes. “I mean, it only mentions a small percentage! I shouldn’t worry about that, right?”

Janine puts her hand on his shoulder, giving a gentle but firm pat. Sometimes the history teacher got anxious easily even depending on how silly the subject was. “Don’t worry, it’s just a small result that says you are considerably calm.” Finally, she turns her head towards you. “Good morning, Y/n! We were just checking out a BuzzFeed test that looked fun.”

“BuzzFeed test?” you raise an eyebrow holding back a laugh as if that was a funny joke made up by the younger teachers. “Is Hill freaking out about a quiz? No way.” It was common knowledge that the topics discussed by the two tended to be genuinely meaningless most of the time. And that seemed like another one on the list.

He defends himself, sounding somewhat dramatic. “It's not a simple quiz, it's one to find out how jealous we are with our partners.”

So it wasn't just a meaningless or random conversation. Just a test to reveal your level of jealousy? That was kind of interesting, no matter how stupid it seemed. Curious about the subject, you pull up a chair to sit next to them. “And what was the result you two got? Is it that bad?”

The second grade teacher takes her phone out of her pocket and checks the result again. “Mine said I’m quite naive and don’t feel jealous most of the time.” She sighs, looking a little offended by the adjective given in the sentence.

“Acceptable, if you don't take it personally as you always do in any situation. And Jacob?”

“My result said basically the same thing. Just adding that my jealousy could just be a small signal of paranoia caused by some insecurities,” the man shrugs, clearly uncomfortable with the suggested issue. Making a mental note to discuss it with his boyfriend later. “Rude if you ask me.”

You switch your gaze between your friends, taking a sip of your cappuccino. “Well, no offense, but in my opinion that makes a lot of sense.” The words that slip off your lips make them cast an incredulous look your way. “What?”

“If you say so,” Janine comments and clears her throat to take the attention away from her. “While we’re on the subject, let me seize the opportunity. Do you get jealous easily?”

The question sounded so silly and naive that for a measly second the idea of ​​not answering immediately seemed completely valid. So valid that you even considered it but decided against it when you remembered that she might be on your case later, insisting to the point of making you lose your mind with the typical interrogation.

“No!” you said proudly with a grin, convincing them. “I am someone who is considerably controlled.” Your focus goes to Melissa, who had put down her word search game and had nudged Barbara to watch the morning program presented by Jim Garden. “But that one over there? It's worse than the devil himself when she gets jealous.” You pointed to the redhead discreetly with a playful smile. Silently thanking that she wasn't listening.

Jacob gives you a puzzled look and gestures with his hands for you to come closer and whispers. “Huh, it's curious you mentioned that, Mel Mel once said she wasn’t the jealous type.”

Was this the best he could do to try and get a genuine giggle out of you? What a complete idiot.

“Right, and I adore attending the book club meetings at the gym twice a week,” you say sarcastically. Hoping that he was only teasing and saying something out of pocket, but your expression changed into a frown after noticing the truth and sincerity in his words. “That's impossible! When did she say it?” You almost shouted but covered your mouth with your hands so as not to attract any attention.

Jacob inhaled deeply, looking for the right words to not make you freak out. “When we...” The pause makes you slam your hand on the table, urging him to continue.

“HILL.”

Your patience began to run out when the Italian woman’s voice manifested about to make a fuss.

“Could youse control that noise over there?” Melissa grumbles from the couch that occupied the break room. “I’m trying to focus on the news,” she points to the television that was playing Channel 6.

“Sorry, honey!” you apologize, closing your eyes and taking a minute to recover, repeating the prompt. “When was that, Jacob? Answer me.”

“It was when we were watching some episodes of The Real Housewives of New Jersey in my apartment last month. In one moment, Mel burst into laughter and said that she had never felt jealous on an extreme level. Not a single time.” He recalled.

Your breathing hitches. The realization hits you like a punch in the gut. That sounded like a stupid April Fools joke.

Melissa Schemmenti was a jealous woman by nature. No matter how much she denied it, she made clear in her actions. Whenever someone flirted with you, her infamous fight or fight instinct was activated. You've witnessed many times the way she clenched her fist, bit her lip impatiently and gave a death glare to anyone who dared to mess with you. The Sicilian woman made a point of showing that her girl belonged only to her and no one else.

And knowing that she preferred to be stubborn and lie to hide that she was vulnerable and maintain her reputation as a fearless woman with a heart of stone rather than actually tell the fucking truth made you extremely outrageous. Did Melissa have the slightest idea and notion of how much this could upset you? Apparently not.

It was truly childish behavior to act dramatically about something stupid like that but who cared, it was your right to be bothered by it.

“She said? Great, we’ll see about that,” you mutter in a venomous tone with arms crossed. “It’s time for someone to try her own medicine.”

Jacob widens his eyes, afraid that he has revealed more than he should and leaves the table to go towards Gregory to discuss something lighter and more restrained like Dungeons and Dragons.

“Do not under any circumstances tell her that I said anything!” he begs in fear. “Sometimes, that woman scares the hell out of me. Even though I consider her a maternal figure, she—”

“No need to shit your pants, squidward. You’ll be able to sleep peacefully with doors open and lights off, the tenebrous green-eyed monster will not appear under your bed and rip your feet off.” You mock him and he just bites his nails, still scared.

Ava who was listening to the conversation pipes in. “Bitch, don’t tell me we're about to witness some real sapphic drama between you and our favorite milf. Watching this will be more fun than all the heterosexual drama between Janine and Gregory since he started working here.” She winks with a smirk.

“AVA,” Janine begins with a sigh, her exasperation palpable. "Seriously?"

“Quiet, lowercase. We're about to witness a historic fight between Abbott's hottest couple,” Ava retorts, clearly entertained.

As the silly provocation between the two women escalated, you quietly slipped out of the staff room. A bittersweet expression crossed your face, your stomach aching with discomfort. The camera crew, who had been filming the entire scene, noticed your sudden change in demeanor and hurriedly pulled you into the hallway for an impromptu interview.

“Sometimes, Melissa can really surprise me. Some moments are pleasant, others... not so much,” you said softly, absently playing with the ring on your left hand. “It’s just challenging to navigate at times.”

The cameraman nodded, urging you to elaborate more.

“She has her own way of seeing things,” you continued, gathering your thoughts. “I guess we all do. But that doesn't justify her acting like a damn bitch.”

——

The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of chaos. From the moment the kids entered your classroom for the first period, they seemed determined to test every ounce of your energy, concentration, and patience. Your usually well-behaved students turned into mischievous imps whenever they caught a moment's respite from your watchful eye. Normally, you didn't mind their occasional antics; it was part of the joy of teaching. But today, dealing with their exuberance felt overwhelming, compounded by the weariness that weighed heavily on you.

Before heading to the cafeteria, your little eagles had transformed into small devils, finding mischief in every corner of the class. Pencils flew like missiles during quiet time, paper airplanes soared across the room during small breaks, and even the usually attentive ones seemed to have caught a case of the giggles that spread like wildfire.

You found yourself back in the classroom after a much-needed lunch break with Janine, Gregory, and Jacob at a quaint restaurant seven blocks from school. Spending time with the trio had been a welcome distraction from the confusion and hurt caused by Melissa’s unfounded lie about her jealousy. You were thankful that the topic hadn't resurfaced during lunch.

Initially hesitant when Gregory invited you to join them, fearing it might fuel gossip about that topic, you eventually relented at Janine and Jacob's insistence. They assured you they wouldn't bring up anything uncomfortable, and instead, the conversation flowed to lighter topics—celebrities, nerd conventions, upcoming seasons of TV shows, and plans for the next weekend’s parties.

Faced with a daunting stack of tests to grade by Thursday morning, you absentmindedly clicked the tip of the red pen. The harsh, flickering light strained your eyes uncomfortably. Thoughts swirled in your mind—was retaliating against Melissa fair? Or would it be wiser to simply ignore her falsehood? You trusted Jacob. He wouldn't lie about something like that, would he?

Maybe the best course of action was to confide in your girlfriend about the insecurity that the revelation had sparked. But the thought of admitting to Melissa that her words had shaken you, worried that it might seem like making a mountain out of a molehill, made you afraid. You didn't want to burden her with unnecessary drama.

“Ms. Y/l/n?” A voice from the back of the room interrupted your thoughts, causing you to hastily put your glasses back on and stand up to address the class.

“Yes, Jayden? How can I help you?” you responded, trying to maintain composure despite the unexpected question.

The boy looks at you with a neutral expression, before saying something unexpected. “I just wanted to know one thing. Are you pissed off at Ms. Schemmenti?”

You were taken aback in the heat of emotion. “Wait, what?”

A chorus of awed whispers erupted among the students, making you wish you could disappear into the floor. The speed at which gossip spread through the school was staggering, and controlling it seemed impossible. Your only hope was that Melissa wouldn’t hear about this.

“Class, let’s settle down,” you scolded, though your own nerves were evident. Fidgeting with the pearl necklace around your neck, your fingers trembling slightly, you replied, “What makes you think that, buddy?”

He gestured towards the framed photo on your desk—an adorable snapshot from one of your early dates with Melissa, a day she surprised you with a picnic in the park. You both had agreed to keep your relationship private initially, which made this moment all the more intimate and cherished.

“You haven’t been holding the picture and staring at it with puppy heart eyes today since the first class started. And you always do that, so somethin’ is clearly wrong here.” Jayden notes.

“And we didn't see you coming out into the hall to visit her when you dropped us at art class,” Skylar added with conviction.

Elijah, who was engrossed in his drawing, wisely pointed out. “And also, you didn't take out your phone to text her and laugh at her dad jokes,” he chuckled, grimacing.

Fucking hell. It was remarkable how observant these kids were, noticing every detail of your daily routine. They were right, but explaining the nuances of your relationship to them felt awkward and unnecessary.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you spoke. “Everything’s fine. I’m just a bit distracted today, that’s all. But everything between us is as it should be. Understood?”

“Got it,” the students chorused, finally leaving you in peace. It was both amusing and exasperating to have to justify the intricacies of your relationship to a bunch of curious children—a situation you never imagined facing in your years as an experienced teacher. One thing was certain: your therapist would hear some interesting stories next month.

“Why can't I ever have a normal morning in this place?" you muttered, rubbing your temple as the camera zoomed in on your face. "I swear, it's like Abbott is conspiring against me. On summer break I will vanish from Philadelphia.”

——

After dismissing your last student for the day, you locked the classroom door with a defeated expression. Gathering your things, you made your way to the gym where Ava’s book club meeting was set to begin in fourteen minutes. The prospect of discussing books didn’t seem quite as pleasant knowing Melissa would be there, oblivious to your seething anger.

Speaking of the older woman, in the last period you thought of a naive plan to get some much-deserved revenge. Your plan was initially short and objective, leaving Melissa jealous by deliberately flirting with another staff member to the point where she lost control completely. It seemed simple to think like that straight away, the real problem would be execution and you knew it would be complicated.

Furthermore, there were three stages for the older woman to enter possessive and dominant mode. First, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Second, she clenched her teeth and bit her lips, feeling the blood rush to her head at a frightening speed. And finally, threatened anyone with her greenish orbs, sometimes even opting for violence methods featuring the emotional support baseball bat who she affectionately nicknamed Edith Houghton.

To push her to these stages, your flirting would need to push boundaries. But could you really go through with it, right? You just needed a suitable target.

Lost in thought, you walked slowly towards the stage, pulling out the book from your bag and flipping through its highlighted pages of One Of The Good Guys. Distracted and not paying attention, you collided with someone, sending both of you and your belongings sprawling to the floor.

“Ouch,” you complain. “My things are all scattered! What a great way to finish my Monday.”

“Fuck! Sorry!” A male voice exclaims in ecstasy, clearly frightened. Reaching out his hand to help you up.

You looked up and recognized Benjamin Cooper, one of the newly hired teachers for seventh grade. He wasn't a frequent face in the break room, often seen at meetings and conferences, seeming introverted and anxious around the rest that worked there. As if the poor twenty-six year old was looking for validation from those more experienced. Fairly that made you feel a little sorry and wanted to help him fit in.

“No worries, Mr. Cooper,” you said, accepting his hand with a small smile. “I was equally distracted.”

Benjamin blushed. “I should have been paying more attention. I've been a bit lost in my own world.”

“Win-win, right?” you replied with a light laugh. “So are you here for the book club?”

His face lit up at the question. “Yeah, Janine recommended it as a good way to get to know everyone here better. She said it’s quite an adventure.”

Before you could respond, Ava appeared, clapping hands. “Come on bitches, let's get this over with. I have a party club to attend later.”

——

The conversation is lively, everyone spent the next forty minutes discussing the story of the book, seeming intrigued by how the plot unfolded. But you have a different goal today. You steal a glance at Melissa, sitting on the other side of the circle, before turning to Benjamin, who is next to you.

Then let the games begin.

With a charming smile, you lean slightly closer to Benjamin, enough so that your legs are almost touching. “You really captured all the nuances of that character,” you say, voice sweet and complimentary. “It’s rare to find someone who sees so deeply between the lines.”

He smiles, clearly flattered. “Thank you, Y/n. I always try to pay attention to the smallest details.”

As the conversation continues, you laugh at his jokes, lightly touch his arm as you speak, and ask questions that demonstrate a genuine interest in his opinions. Your eyes shined with excitement, but every now and then, you would cast a calculating glance toward Melissa, watching her reaction.

The second grade teacher, sitting a few feet away with her legs propped up on another free chair, tries to remain calm, but her fingers nervously tap the cover of the book. Her eyes squint whenever they land on both of you, and her jaw is tense, her lips forming a thin line. She sees how you are purposely trying to at the same time attract his attention and piss her and she feels a mixture of anger and jealousy rising inside her.

During a pause in the debate, you laugh again at something Benjamin said and touch his knee, leaving it there for a moment longer than necessary. The redhead, no longer able to contain herself, stood up abruptly, attracting the eyes of everyone in the room.

“I need some air,” she says, her speech controlled but carrying a cold tone. She leaves the room quickly, leaving an awkward silence behind.

You watch her leave, a victorious expression flickering across your face before turning her attention back to him. “Sorry about that,” you whispered, trying to play it off. “She must be tired. Mel had a busy morning. Mondays are kinda tough for her.”

Benjamin, a little confused, just nods, while the others exchange puzzled glances. Except Ava who just remained lying on the floor, playing on her phone and enjoying the spectacle in front of her.

The principal laughed shamelessly. “Things are heating up! Mr. Johnson, get the damn popcorn ready. Someone is going to drop dead here!”

Her casual remark caught Barb's attention. She pieced together the situation and gave you a skeptical look, silently questioning whether you were brave or reckless to challenge Melissa without fear of serious consequences.

“Y/n.” She responds quietly enough just for you to listen, making a cutting gesture across her throat. “Sweet baby Jesus and the grown up too, what on earth are you doing?”

In a bold move, you raised a finger to your lips, implying that it was a deserved payback. The words of reprimand almost escape the brunette's throat, but she stops herself. Too stunned to speak against.

Mr. Morton whistled, drawing everyone's focus back to the book discussion.

You could have sworn you heard the noise of the redhead in her classroom, punching some makeshift bag to gauge the tension. Your creative imagination could visualize the scene perfectly, Melissa would have her back to the closed door, her body tense and her fists flying towards the object, hanging in the corner of the room. Each blow precise and full of strength, sweat running down her forehead and the veins in her neck standing out, highlighting the gravity of her dangerous emotions.

She would also probably be mumbling disjointed words with a focused expression.

After a few minutes, Melissa returns, carrying a bottle of water, trying to maintain her composure. As she handed the object to you, your eyes met hers for a moment, filled with unspoken emotions. “You forgot it in your classroom, darling,” she says, more controlled, but her body language says much more.

You take the bottle, fingers brushing your girlfriend's, and give her a smile that's both apologetic and mischievous. “Oh, how forgetful I am! Thank you, gorgeous,” you reply, the word loaded with meaning.

The rest of the meeting continued with a palpable tension in the air, and although your plan had been completed successfully, the atmosphere changed when the man innocently asked if you would be interested in going out sometime so you could visit a bookstore downtown.

Melissa watched from afar, her jaw clenched as she saw the blonde place his hand on your shoulder, inviting you to join him. Jealousy boiled inside her until it erupted into an outburst she couldn't contain. With determined steps, she stormed towards you, eyes flashing with indignation.

“Oi, you piece of shit!” she shouted, her voice echoing through the room. “Aren't you ashamed to flirt with my girlfriend in front of me?”

Benjamin turned around, surprised by Melissa's outburst. His smile disappeared instantly, replaced by an expression of bewilderment.

“Ms. Schemmenti, I... I wasn't...”

“I don't want to hear your excuses!” Melissa interrupted, her voice still thick with fury. “I have a baseball bat hidden in the trunk of my car and I'm not afraid to stick it right up into your ass—”

The youngest, visibly shaken, quickly retreated from the room, leaving space for others to quietly exit in his wake.

Barb stood at the entrance, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she observed the tense scene unfolding before her. As the fight between you and Melissa began, the kindergarten teacher's shock and disapproval grew. She had always known you two to be level-headed professionals, and seeing you in such a state of conflict was unsettling.

After a few moments of observing, she shook her head in disbelief. She knew that intervening in such a heated exchange would likely only make matters worse. Instead, she turned on her heel and quietly left the gym, praying that it would end soon.

“You've got some nerve, Y/n,” Melissa spat, her voice sharp with anger. “Flirting with him like that, right in front of me?” She had been pacing back and forth, her frustration boiling over into shouts that echoed off the walls. You, on the other hand, sat calmly in one of the chairs again.

“Please Schemmenti,” you scoffed. “You're just upset because I caught you in a lie.”

Her eyes narrowed, jaw clenching in frustration. “Lie?! What the fuck are you talking about?” she demanded, her voice rising.

You leaned back on your seat, crossing your legs casually. “You said to Jacob last month that you weren't a jealous person, remember?" you taunted. “But it's clear as day that you are!”

Melissa's face flushed, her hands balling into fists at her sides. She had hoped to keep her jealousy hidden, but you had seen right through her facade. “That's not the point,” the green-eyed woman snapped, her voice tinged with bitterness. “You shouldn't have been flirting with him in the first place.”

“Maybe if ya were more honest about your feelings, we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

She advances towards you quickly, like a predator surrounding its prey without caring for the way your body shrank and trembles with dark green eyes studying you carefully. You are startled by the movement and lose your balance, falling from the folding chair. Making a thunderous noise, leaving your cheeks flushed in embarrassment

“Crap,” you hiss in pain. “I’m going to need a bucket full of ice to assess this fall. Uh?” The attempt to calm her down backfires when she only rolls her eyes in annoyance silently shutting your mouth with her infamous mortal glare.

Melissa leans on top of your body, biting and licking your earlobe before whispering a simple command that she expects you to follow without any questions or complaints. Her heavy breathing makes you suppress a small whimper. “I want you to meet me at the parking lot in four minutes. It looks like someone needs to remember how to behave like a good girl and not disobey mommy again.”

You just agree, too muzzy to speak. She gets off of you, picks up the purse that was on the side of the chair and takes one last look at you, before disappearing in her angry walk, the noise of her boots makes your head spin.

You were in trouble. And about to see the meanest side of your girlfriend while dealing with the terrible consequences of your acts.

——

The heavy silence of the house is broken by the abrupt sound of the front door slamming shut. Melissa enters, her face a mask of suppressed fury, her eyes burning with a jealousy she can no longer control. You, mesmerized by the intensity of the older woman's expression, take a step back, but there is no time to react.

With a quick movement, she approaches, her hands firm but gentle, holding her precious girl around the waist. Without a word, she lifts you onto her lap, her muscles tense with anger and neediness. Taken by surprise, you feel your heart racing, a mixture of fear and excitement taking over.

Melissa strides purposefully down the hallway upstairs, fury burning in every movement. Sucking and biting your neck, creating purple marks that she knew would be difficult to hide later. When you reach her large room, she pushes the door with her foot, entering a space that now seems small and suffocating. “You've been quite naughty,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. “I think you need a gentle reminder of who's in charge.”

The bedroom is shrouded in soft gloom, lit only by the diffused light from the lamp on the bedside table. The redhead takes in your figure, who is standing next to the bed, your eyes shining with anticipation and a hint of nervousness. Melissa looked deeply into your eyes, feeling the weight of desire and anticipation. Slowly, with a firm but tender touch, she began to undress you, piece by piece, letting each item of garment fall gently to the floor. Her slender fingers slid across the smooth skin.

She begins to unbutton her own blazer, revealing the pale, unblemished skin beneath. Each undone button is executed with calculated precision, his eyes never leaving yours. Melissa slides her blouse and bra off her shoulders, leaving them coughed next to the mirror.

Her hands go down, undoing her belt and black leather pants. The soft sound of the zipper coming down echoes through the silent room. She slides her pants down, revealing her sculpted legs, and kicks them to the side. After taking off her underwear. Melissa stands up again, completely naked, a perfect contrast between confidence and vulnerability.

The soft light from the lamp outlines every curve of her body, creating shadows that dance across her skin. With a nonchalant face, she walks to the drawer and opens it, taking out the harness and dildo. With dexterity, she attaches the accessory to her waist, adjusting it perfectly. The strap-on contrasts with her milky skin, looking like a natural extension of her body.

“Kneel.” Melissa commands, pointing to the center of the floor. There's a harsh, venomous tone to her hoarse voice and you get the feeling that you're going to be humiliated by the older woman for acting and behaving like a brat. Without hesitation, you obeyed, lowering yourself to the floor, knees meeting the cold wooden floor.

She sits on the edge of the bed and spreads her legs, with a maniacal smile and a demonic look in her green eyes — now dark with excitement. The sight looked quite pornographic, her red hair was now tied up in a beautiful ponytail, the way that her curves and magnificent body were on display for you.

“Suck it. Now.”

Your breath caught at Melissa’s words, a mix of anticipation and excitement flooding your senses. With a soft nod, you reached for her harness, your fingers clumsy tracing the contours. The smooth texture felt foreign yet strangely enticing in your hands.

She groaned at the sight of you wrapping your lips around her, the other end rubbing her clit causing a gasp. “That’s a good little girl, taking mommy's cock so well.” You moaned at her praise, running your tongue over the length, sucking and licking.

As you continue, she begins to move her hips slightly, pushing the silicone a little deeper into your mouth, establishing a slow but steady rhythm. “You like that, baby? Letting me take control of ya?” she asks. “Seeing you like this, so submissive and dedicated makes me so damn wet.”

She receives a muffled moan of confirmation, your palms resting on Melissa's thighs to plead more physical contact.

“Good pet.” The woman repeats. “Keep going, you’re making me so proud.”

You whined, feeling a wave of heat rise to your face. Looking away, trying to hide the blush that was certainly coloring your cheeks.

“Holy shit, baby. Mommy is so close. Make her come in your mouth with that magical tongue of yours.”

The answer is immediate. You increase the intensity, mouth working expertly as she continues to fuck your throat on agressive movements. The sound of panting breaths and whimpers fills the bedroom, creating a symphony of submission and pleasure. Every movement is meticulous, showing your dedication to pleasing. Melissa lets out a sigh, her fingers tangling in your long hair, guiding you gently as she reaches her orgasm.

“Fuck.”

She lay on her back, her auburn hair fanned out across the pillows. sinking into the softness of her king-sized bed, mind still buzzing with euphoria.

“Come here.” The tempting woman commands softly, reaching out her hand to you. Without hesitation, you position yourself over Melissa, straddling her. She holds you with a mischievous smile, helping you align yourself with the strap. “Ready for me?”

You yelp, cheeks flushed pink, holding onto her shoulders for balance. Slowly starting to lower yourself, feeling the toy enter your tight hole, a soft moan escaping your lips as the redhead fills you up deliciously.

“Such an obedient plaything,” Melissa whispers. She lets go of your waist and slides her hands up, firmly cupping your breasts. “Now ride me, sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” you whimper. “Of course, mommy—”

You begin to move, getting up and lowering yourself slowly at first, finding a comfortable rhythm. She watches in awe, fingers lightly squeezing your tits as she moves her hips up to meet yours. “Good girl. That’s it.” The Italian praises, encouraging.

As your motions progressed, bouncing with more intensity now back and forth, Melissa lets out low and hoarse moans. With a firm touch, she slaps your left breast, the skin turning slightly red from the impact. You arch your back, letting out a loud moan in response, intensifying the experience. The woman repeats the gesture, this time on the right breast, her hands caressing and squeezing right after the slap.

“Does that hurt? Oh baby.” She laughs. “Do you enjoy being my sweet little toy?”

“Yes!” you say between growls, more desperately. Each thrust sends waves through your body, the slaps to your breasts only intensifying. “I was made to be used by you.”

Melissa continues to encourage you, soft hands alternating between slaps and caresses. The bed starts creaking and you grab the headboard to have something to hold on, your knuckles turn white as you reach your climax, a groan of her name echoes in the residence, your body collapsing on top of her. The mattress sinks on impact, but you don't seem to worry about that.

You remain in that comfortable position for a while, the hands that were scratching your back now rest on your ass, caressing the soft flesh with a delicious lightness. Melissa's touch is intimate yet confident, each stroke a gentle exploration of familiar territory, as if following a recipe she knows by heart.

Rubbing your cheek against her shoulder, your mind melts and enters a state of relaxation. The feeling of her heathen and sweaty body pressed against yours and enveloping both of you in an intimate warmth makes you realize that there's no place else you'd rather be.

Outside, the night holds its breath, unaware of the intensity unfolding within the sanctuary of your shared passion.

“So fuckin’ good.” Melissa babbles, mostly to herself. “Dio, è così dannatamente bello. Posso sentirlo pulsare sul mio cazzo.”

She then delivered the first spank on your bottom, making you involuntarily jump in surprise. The bite you give in the valley of her big breasts awakens an primal animalistic desire on the woman underneath you.

In a blur of adrenaline and urgency, she placed more aggressive slaps on her ass, leaving it completely redden and sore, ignoring your cries. The action was enough for your juices to drip onto the sheets.

“Such a dirty whore, mommy needs to clean her before she makes more mess.”

Slowly, after at least ten swats on each buttock, Melissa removed you from above her, pulling your hair with all the strength she possessed. And pushing you to remain lying in bed, she grabs your wrists, pulling them above your head, trapping them firmly.

“Keep those hands to yourself or I will handcuff them.” Your heart misses a beat, you feel Melissa’s internal struggle, a deep desire.

The older woman lies on her stomach between your legs, leaning down to bite the inside of your thighs. Each kiss is teasing and intentional, leaving a trail of fire on your skin. You moan, your hips arching slightly in response to Melissa’s touch. “Babe…” you whisper, full of need.

“Shhh,” she whispered back, slapping your pussy and kissing your mound leaving a red mark of lipstick, claiming you as her property before spreading your folds apart. “I’ll take care of you, babygirl.”

Melissa gets closer, her tongue finally finding your puffy and throbbing clit. She starts with slow and circular movements, exploring each centimeter with experienced precision. You yearn, your fingers massaging your own breasts, trying to find some relief for the overwhelming wave that begins to take over.

“Lissa,” you exclaimed her nickname like a prayer. “Please.”

“You think you’re so smart. Flirting with that Stronzo on purpose just to get fucked by me later. I know you better than that, doll.” Purrs the redhead against the sensitive skin, her words sending vibrations of pleasure making the knot in your stomach slowly loosen with each degradation.

“I held back so much not to fuck you in that damn gym,” she continues raising her head. The pink lips shining with your wetness. “In front of that motherfucker to prove that you're just a brat desperate for mommy's attention. Isn't that true?"

“Yes, mommy. I'm a...brat who enjoys your attention.” you scream breaking under the intensity of the sensation.

Satisfied, Melissa buries her head between your pussy again, nibbling you with her sharp teeth. Tears begin to stream down your eyes, the feeling becoming too much. Your legs close around your girlfriend's head, keeping her trapped and slightly suffocated, your eyebrows twitch in concern. But she smiles widely, her own excitement borning. The Italian wouldn't mind if you suffocated her even more, finding the idea of ​​passing out while pushing you to the edge hot.

As your senses heightened, you noticed a peculiar sensation — a slight blurring of the edges of vision and a distant echo in your hearing. Melissa, sensing your arousal nearing its peak, intensified her efforts, her fingers and tongue working in sync to stimulate your most sensitive areas.

Suddenly, with a shuddering cry, your body convulsed in ecstasy, a rush of liquid escaping you as you experienced the intense release of squirting for the first time. Your cum splashed onto Melissa's mouth and chin. She moaned softly, savoring your taste as she continued to gently lap your folds drawing out every last bit of your pleasure.

You gazed at the ceiling, feeling simultaneously grounded and weightless. Drifting in a dreamlike state you struggled to anchor yourself back to reality, still overwhelmed and sore.

Melissa, noticing your distant gaze and subdued responses, felt a pang of concern. She gently traced your cheek, her touch seeking reassurance in their connection. Yet, as you remained unresponsive, the redhead’s worry deepened.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, her heart sinking with the realization that perhaps she had misread your intimacy. She cursed herself for possibly misinterpreting the intensity, fearing she had hurt you or worse.

The older woman propped herself up on one elbow. “Amore, breathe with me.” She said, her tone soothing guiding you through slow, deep breaths.

Gradually, the haze began to lift, the bedroom coming back into sharper focus. You felt a sense of clarity returning, though the confusion still lingered at the edges of your mind. You looked at Melissa, finding solace in your girlfriend's steady gaze.

Your eyes reflected a mix of exhaustion and gratitude. “I'm tired, Mel," you admitted quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “And a bit overwhelmed.”

She nodded understandingly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your sweaty forehead. “It’s okay, hon. I've got you.” She murmured, her words a comforting promise.

She gets up, trying not to make any noise, and goes to the bathroom. There, she wets a small towel with warm water, wringing it out before returning to the room. Melissa sits down next to you again and begins to gently clean your aching body, starting with your face and working your way down to your neck, shoulders and arms. Each touch is delicate, as she whispers sweet words of comfort and love.

After cleaning you up, Melissa grabs a bottle of soothing lotion from the bedside table and begins massaging your reddened skin, soothing any discomfort it may have caused. “I love you, baby.” she says, kissing your shoulder blades, while her hands continue their careful work.

You sigh, relaxing more with each touch. “I love you.”

She finishes the massage, tucks you with a soft blanket and lies down next to you, her presence comforting. And wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, and you can feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against your back. You intertwine your fingers with hers, your breathing syncing with the calm rise and fall of her chest. Together, you fall into a peaceful sleep.

——

The next morning, you walked into school, steps a little uneven, a flush of embarrassment coloring your cheeks. Melissa was right beside you, a wide grin plastered on her face as she stifled laughter. She kept a supportive hand on your lower back, guiding you down the hallway.

As you made your way, you passed Ava and Barbara, who were welcoming students. Ava raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. She made a scissor motion with her fingers, earning an exasperated sigh from the veteran teacher.

[searchingforplanes]

Lay, lady, lay

WC: 1.6k

Notes: Ancient fluffy-ish blurb from my google docs. Just a simple Sunday morning crumb.

TW: typos, curse words?, mention of pills?, me being repetitive and using song lyrics as endings and titles because I don't own one single ounce of creativity nor talent

‘Matty, can you grab my meds for me, please?’

You scrunch your nose at the sound of your groggy morning voice, cursing the pollen that’s been filling the newly warm spring air and, consequently, blocking your sinuses and keeping you awake all night. 

Fucking allergies. 

Your boyfriend just hums in response on the other side of the bed, eyes glued to his phone while he numbly scrolls away, barely registering that you’re talking to him. You turn your head to take a better look at him: sleepy eyes, messy ringlets, pouty lips, long sideburns and, dulcis in fundo, his slightly hairy chest peeking out from the duvet. 

If your relationship was happening in a fairytale, despite gender stereotypes, right now you would be the evil ogre and him the princess in distress kept captive in your tower, guarded by dragons and whatnot. You don’t even need a mirror to confirm your theory, sleeping beauty by your side looking like a proper snack at eight in the morning while you feel like a truck just ran you over. Prince charming, in this case, must be the sun: the same soft rays that are burning your retinas seem to only caress him in a shower of light, gently tracing the slope of his nose and making his glossy curls glimmer.

You grunt, turning to lay on your tummy and firmly planting your face on your pillow, praying for it to swallow you and keep you there, in the valley of soft feathers and comforters or wherever pillows come from.

The fact that you're thinking about fantasy worlds for the second time in a row since you’ve woken up it’s a clear indicator of how bad of a few hours of sleep you got and how you have a whole lot of creative dreaming to catch up on. You need meds.

Matty’s weak attention span has already faded when you try to gently nudge his leg with your feet, startling him. He turns to finally look at you, putting his phone on the nightstand.

‘Are you trying to suffocate yourself?’ The smirk he’s so obviously sporting makes you want to slap him right across the face. You raise your head just slightly to try and set him on fire with your glance, but the result is poor: Matty full on laugh at the sight of your tired eyes, failing at your attempt to appear threatening. You let your head fall back on the pillow in defeat, mumbling about how bad of a boyfriend he is. 

‘Aw baby, don’t be mad at me, it’s not my fault you’re just adorable with that red nose of yours. Did you escape from Santa Claus’ barn? ’

That was the ultimate dick move. Realising you’re not in the mood for jokes he tries to apologise, scooting towards your side of the bed to envelope you, but you keep your distance, sliding blindly to the edge of the mattress, as far away from him as possible. 

Until you feel nothing underneath you. 

You land on the floor with a thud almost as loud as to grant you a knock on the door from your angry neighbours, but the sound of your failure is soon replaced by the grunts of your boyfriend who’s apparently trying really hard to stop himself from laughing at you. 

Dickhead.

While you wait for him to come and rescue you, because of course he has to laugh in your face just for a moment longer, you start plotting your revenge. Maybe you should just grab one of his ankles and sweep him off his feet, but then again, who’s gonna pick you up with his dead weight upon you? The plan is unviable.

He crouches beside your limp body before you can even attempt to find a plan B, looking down at you with a faint smile until he decides that the time for pity has finally come. He circles your torso with his arms, raising you from the ground until you’re flush against him and your hands are gripping his neck. He then pats the sides of your thighs, inviting you to place them on his hips and you oblige, defeated, the pain in your back overpowering the need to ignore him. For now, at least. 

Comfortable in his arms, you decide to nuzzle against his neck, ignoring the destination of this little walk until the cold marble of the kitchen counter bites the naked skin of your legs. He has strategically placed you between the kettle and the fridge, you notice, the perfect spot to smooch you in between the steps of preparing breakfast. He does this often, especially when in trouble and desperate for your forgiveness. The bastard knows how to make you soft.

You accept the first sweet kiss to your nose with a grunt, involuntarily starting to warm up to him. He then starts the little routine of his, walking between the two appliances an unnecessary amount of times, purposefully avoiding multitasking to kiss you over and over.

He fills up the kettle, smooch. He takes the butter out of the fridge, smooch. He reaches for two mugs in the cupboard above the steaming appliance, smooch. He goes back to retrieve the milk, smooch.

And then his absolute favourite: toast. He grins like a kid walking back to you with the slices of bread in his hands and you roll his eyes, but you let him have his moment.

‘May I?’

You barely nod, his arms reaching behind your back to place the slices inside the toaster, which is conveniently located behind your back. His torso leans over you in the action, one hand, now empty, coming to your waist while the other turns the lever to the highest setting, just to make sure he has time to get his way with you before having to return to chef duty. 

He smirks before crushing his lips on yours, forceful and bold, his other hand coming around and gripping the thin material of your shirt over your ribcage. He tries to deepen the kiss, his tongue coming out to graze at your lower lip but you physically have to push him off you. Before Matty can even ask what’s wrong you break into a fit of coughs, and it’s like a lightbulb switches on over his head. He places his hands on the counter on either side of your legs and looks at you sweetly. 

‘You out of breath already? Did the allergies get to you?’ 

You mumble in affirmation, your throat too sore to try and speak and curse him out for his lack of attention before. The toaster goes off, triggering Matty to finish his little routine, buttering the toast and tossing the teabags before placing the meal on the kitchen island. 

‘Go eat, I’ll take your pills’ 

You oblige, watching your boyfriend’s boxer-cladded rear make his way to the master bedroom. You munch on breakfast while listening to the screeching sound of the bathroom drawers being opened and almost certainly getting messed up with Matty’s frantic research. 

He returns a couple minutes later with a triumphant look on his face, swinging the blister pack in the air like a trophy. 

‘Open up’

You stick your tongue out and he places the medicine on your tongue, letting it dissolve until the bitter taste fills up your mouth. You take the glass of water Matty slides over to you, raising the corners of your lips in an appreciative smile. He smiles right back and as best as he can, considering he’s stuffed his mouth like a squirrel to catch up with you on his toast. 

‘Can we go back to bed after this? I don’t think I can manage my eyelids being open for much more’  

He grins at this, swallowing hard and reaching for his tea to down it as fast as possible, the prospect of spending the cosy sunday morning under the duvet with you much more appealing than any other plan. So much so that he almost burns his tongue with the hot liquid, eager to answer you. 

‘I’m all yours, darling’

And he is. A perfect Adonis draped on the pillows, still half naked, with burning hot skin that smells like sandalwood, all yours, trapped under the weight of your head on his bare chest. Your ear is pressed against his ribcage, listening to the rhythm of his heart, a deep, constant beat that sounds like it was pulled out from one of his songs. 

‘I’m sorry for earlier, I was kind of a douche’ Matty whispers mere centimetres from your ear.

‘You were, but you can make up for it’ 

He wiggles a bit under the covers, impatient to hear your request.

‘Stay still and sing me to sleep, will you?’ You stifle a yawn right after and you flutter your eyelids close. Finally, your breathing evens out.

‘Sure thing, princess. Any requests?’’ 

‘Blue sunday’ You answer. It’s an unintelligible mumble, but he knows you too well to not expect it. 

So he begins to card his fingers in your hair, alternating scratching at your scalp with tracings of your neck. His voice breaks the silence in the sweetest melody: 

I found my own true love was 

On a blue Sunday

She looked at me and told me

I was the only 

One in the world

Now I have found my girl

My girl awaits for me in tender time

My girl is mine

She is the world

She is my girl

His arms tighten around you as the lyrics reach the end. Content floods your body, you can finally sleep peacefully.

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol 25

Hi Friends!!

It has been... a week. I didn't get a whole lot of reading done. But I did absolutely adore every single thing I read this week. I think, if I can count, I read 12 new fics this week. Also tried out yet another new format: Author summaries (or my quick one if there wasn't one) included with the rec.

As always you can find all of my previous fic recs here. Feel free to tag me in your fics and I'll add them to my TBR (please understand that my TBR is long as hell and it might take a while for me to get to it)

Fic recs below the (baby) Pedro!

Me and My Husband a Din series by @beskarandblasters

Summary: Din Djarin is doing what any typical Mandalorian would be doing after reclaiming Mandalore, finding a riduur and settling down. He’s still a member of the Guild on Nevarro, taking bounties here and there to support his new family. But when he meets you while you’re working the front desk at an inn on Naboo, he finds himself hooked, feeling like he’s found something new and exciting in his now mundane life. How long can he keep up appearances with his riduur? And how long can he keep his little secret with you?

This is the first married!Din series I’ve ever seen (not saying it doesn’t exist, but I haven’t seen it), so this is for my infidelity loving Din Girlies. I love how awkward and just plain bad at flirting Din is in this. And you’ll hear this a lot from me in my reblogs but POOR MAY!! I’m so excited for the rest of this series. 

Oh, Honey a Joel series by @lincolndjarin 

Summary: you’ve been given a gift. a fresh start in a brand new place, the sleepy little town of Honey, WV. a distant aunt has passed away and left you a little plot of land and her camper, the stars must be aligning for you because the local mortician is looking for an assistant and you’re desperate for the work experience. your new employer even offers to set you up with her brother-in-law! things are looking up, you’ve got a brand new home, a new town, a hot date, (and thanks to a series of bear attacks that started immediately after your arrival) you have more than enough work to keep you busy!

Oh look Gin is reading another monsterfucking fic…. Shocker. But anywayyyy, I love the buildup in this. It’s got such a good suspenseful plot. And I love that reader goes a lil off the rails and everyone is fuckin gaslighting her aghhhhhh. Oh also baby Ellie is in this and that is adorable. The lore and the worldbuilding in this are to die for, I feel like I’m reading a mystery novel. 

A Heart For Eating a Joel series by @motherofagony

Summary: a vicious raider attack robs you of human connection and lights a fire of destruction in your life in jackson. joel's fixated on you, and your lives tangle. revenge becomes a needful thing.

I love Joel’s characterization in this so much. He’s a grumpy bastard, but he’s got that wonderful protective caregiver thing going on. If you’re a fan of some mild love as consumption, injured men (and taking care of them (joel)), christ side wounds, and gorgeous storytelling this is the one. 

Go Ahead, I dare ya a Javi P two shot by @chronically-ghosted

Summary: 1. No sex. 2. No touching yourself. 3. No orgasms. 4. No murdering your annoying DEA partner. A Javier Peña-shaped riff on that iconic Star Wars fic.

The TENSION!!!! The BUILDUP!!!! This fic drove me crazy dude. It’s so will they won’t they the whole fucking time right up until they do. Javi is perfectly written and reader is a perfect match for his bullshit. 

Wet Work a Frankie one shot by @loversandantiheroes

Summary: Frankie accidentally discovers how to make you squirt

I???? It’s a fic where Frankie makes you squirt three times like what else do I even have to say? It’s on your kitchen table! And you call him a good boy! This fic is devastatingly hot. 

Frankie Breathplay Drabble a Frankie drabble by @ozarkthedog 

Summary: Frankie chokes you while you ride him

Got tagged in this lovely little drabble and ummmm oh my god? Breathplay is a little bit of an understatement for what this is. It borders on dark!frankie (in my personal opinion), which I adore. He’s choking you out while you ride him. Like that’s what’s happening. Asphyxiation but make it sexy. 

Real Gods Require Blood a Joel one shot by @proxima-writes

Summary: You think you’re as good as dead when a band of raiders find you. In what you think are your final moments, an angel appears. His name is Joel Miller, and he is here to deliver you from evil.

CULT JOEL! CULT JOEL!!! I love how fucking scary Joel is in this. It’s like if the stuff that happened to canon joel got all mixed up with some religious trauma and made him go a little crazy. I loved this so much. It was quietly terrifying, beautifully written. I love the ending so much too… not gonna spoil it but AHHHH

The Locksmith a The Thief series by @oonajaeadira 

Summary: A Thief you’ve known for years and have conflicting feelings for brings you a gift. The gift is a not only a puzzle in itself, but part of a larger mystery, one only you can crack.

I’m like 3 or 4 chapters into this series and I love it so much. The Thief with a locksmith reader is just such a good idea and I love how he ropes her into situations. He’s such a smooth talker ugh. The opera chapter? Pls. I gotta go finish this series now actually AH. 

The Haunting of Dieter Bravo a Dieter one shot by @idolatrybarbie

Summary: "ghosts aren't real, except when they are."

As a paranormal horror slut, it really felt like this fic was written for me… (f’me, if you will, Bea). Dieter being Dieter and reader being done with his shit and then they get HAUNTED. I love it. The suspense is so good. I was actually a lil freaked out. 

Everyone at this party's a vampire a Dieter one shot by @idolatrybarbie

Summary: "you look so pretty like this."

This is funny because Dieter is an idiot, but reader is so hot??? Anyway sexy vampire lady lures Dieter’s dumbass into getting murked and it’s wonderful.

Intimidation Tactics a Dave/Marcus P series by @whataperfectwasteoftime

Summary: You and your partner, Marcus Pike, are investigating a case that brings you far too close to something much more dangerous than your average art thief. 

I haven’t quite finished this yet (actually just got to the big action scene), but I am so in love with this fic. I already adore the way Penny writes Marcus, but then we get her Dave too. And Dave has all these elements of movie Dave – badass, sexy, a little scary – but we also get to see him be sweet and protective and playful and I love it so much. And then also I think everyone knows I’m a big ol slut for a MMF fic and the dynamic between Marcus and Dave is so fucking good. Little baby enemies to lovers plotline and GOD their chemistry is off the charts. 

Just Friends a Javi P two shot by @joelsgreys

Summary: You’re planning to have sex for the first time and you’re nervous—Javi offers to show you a thing or two, but just as friends of course.

I really love the way Vee writes Javi, man. He’s arrogant, annoying, rude, snarky… but also protective, sweet, and very ummmm giving. The banter is fuckin unmatched. And the mutual pining? PLEASE. I’m obsessed. 

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Apologies to anyone whose series I normally keep up with... I've been a lil scatterbrained.

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Happy Reading!

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜꜱ [5]

Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x Reader

series masterlist || series playlist || chapter song

Summary: Drowning in women and designer drugs, Bucky Barnes of Valkyrie’s Revenge is in a race to rock bottom. Fed up, his bandmates give him an ultimatum—straighten up, or fuck off. In a last, desperate bid to maintain his place, he agrees to return to the one place he swore he’d never set foot again—home.

Warnings: Angst, Drug Addiction, Depression, Suicidal ideation, Mental Health issues, Toxicity, Recreational Drug use, Hard drug use, PTSD, Dealing with trauma, Slow Burn, Fluff, MINORS DNI, [More to be added]

A/N: whew. this chapter… i tried to warn you guys, i really did. buckle up!! as always, i recommend you listen to the chapter song while reading, or alternatively, listen to the fic playlist! thank you so much for reading! divider by @firefly-graphics​

series playlist || chapter song

This work is entirely unbeta’d, and unedited. Though I don’t own any of Marvel’s characters, this work and the plot contained inside are entirely mine. I do not consent for this work to be posted anywhere else by anyone but me. Enjoy 😘

It’s Iris’ shaking that wakes you, her little hands jerking your shoulder back and forth as you blearily open your eyes to the almost total darkness. 

 “Mommy, mommy there’s somebody at the door,” she says, her voice nervous. You sit up, rubbing at your eyes. It takes you a moment to process what she’s said, and you listen for a few seconds, but hear only the quiet sounds of the house settling, dripping faucets, branches scratching against the plastic siding. 

 “Wha?” You shake your head. “No, baby, it’s bedtime, nobody comes around this late—” You’re interrupted by a fierce round of knocks—some of them so loud, you’re fairly certain the person responsible is kicking your door. It only takes a moment for you to go from sleepy to high-alert, your eyes flicking between your daughter and your bedroom door. 

 “See?” She whimpers, clamoring onto the bed and clutching at you. You detangle yourself from your anxious daughter, and reach under the bed for the baseball bat you keep there—just in case. Even though your heart is pounding, you know you can’t show her how scared you are—Iris is only as calm as you are. 

 “Kiddo, you’re going to stay right here in mommy’s room, okay? I’m going to go downstairs and see who’s at the door.” You softly close the door behind you, jumping as the doorbell rings just before the knocks resume. With sweaty hands, you grip the worn handle of your father’s bat, and edge down the stairs towards the door. You hear a loud crack, like wood splintering outside the door, and then—your name?

 “Open the do-hic-ooor,” Bucky moans, and through the thick frosted glass you see him rest his forehead against the little window at the top of the door. You fumble with the chain, the bat clattering as it hits the floor. You turn the handle, and Bucky practically falls inside. He stumbles over the threshold, and you scramble to catch him so that he doesn’t clip his head on the end table. He rests heavily on you, his head lolling. 

 “Bucky?!” You hiss his name. “What—what are you doing?” He attempts to stand up, straightening his jacket as he shoves his hands into his pockets. You resist the urge to slam the door as he shoulders past you—you don’t need Iris more riled up than she already is. “Are you fucking crazy?”

 He staggers against the wall. “I n-needed t’see you.” His watery smile is barely even that, a slight upturn at the corners of his trembling mouth before he drags the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead. “Wan’ to see you,” he repeats, slurring. 

 “Bucky it’s fucking two a.m.” You throw your hands up. “It’s fucking two a.m. and you are scaring my fucking kid!” You’re tempted to hit him, to slap some fucking sense into him because clearly he doesn’t have any right now. Your hand twitches at your side as you tamp the urge back down. 

 “My fucking kid,” he retorts, and you feel a portion of your righteous anger break off and crumble into guilt. “Isn’t s-she?” He shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it. He glares at you with lidded, red-rimmed eyes. You want to say no, you know you should, for the sake of your peace, your daughter’s peace, to uphold the promise you’d made to your parents, to yourself. 

 But you can’t. It won’t come. You’re floundering watching his face contort into some unnameable expression. You don’t know how he’s figured it out, how his addled brain has finally put the pieces together. 

 “I w-wanna see her.” He slurs, and tries to step around you. You block him, shoving him backwards. 

 “You’re high out of your fucking mind Bucky! I don’t even want you in my fucking house!” You shrill.  “Where’s Steve?” Bucky hunches his shoulders defensively. His glassy eyes roll as he tries to deny what you can plainly see. 

 “‘M’not high,” he mumbles. “I—” 

 “Bucky you can’t even speak!” You yell, and then wince, hoping Iris isn’t listening at the top of the stairs. “You show up here at the most ungodly fucking hour, demanding to see Iris— “ You cut yourself off, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Bucky you fucking terrified her, okay? You—I’m going to call Steve.”  Your exasperated words make him flinch. He tries to stop you as you reach for your phone, but his movements are heavy and slow. 

 “That lying piece of shit. Don’t—” He reaches for you, and you slap his hand away, your heart pounding. 

 “Don’t tell me what I can and cannot do in my house.” 

 “I’ll l-leave. If you call him.” He threatens, his voice hard. His pupils are dilated wide, his eyes wet, but you can tell he means it. You know you shouldn’t feel responsible for Bucky, not now, not ever again, but it doesn’t stop you from feeling it anyway. You scrub a frustrated hand over your face, tangling your fingers in your hair before you squeeze your eyes shut, regretting the decision before it even comes out of your mouth. 

 “Okay, fine,” you relent, holding your hands up. “No Steve. But you can’t see Iris like this.” Bucky looks rough. You know he’s been out partying, doing only God knows what—his eyes are red-rimmed and watery, his nose red and irritated. He looks like he’s going to argue with you, but after a moment snaps his mouth shut angrily.

 “Fine.”

 “You can sleep on the couch.” You say stiffly. “I’m going to go get you a blanket. Stay down here.” The words are curt, short as though you’ve bitten off their edges. He opens his mouth, and you’re not sure you want to hear what’s going to come out of it next, so you turn away, and march directly up the stairs. You wait at the top to hear the tell-tale creak of the first stair, but it doesn’t come. 

 For a few seconds, you pace on the landing, hands balled into fists and pressed against your closed eyes. Bucky is here. He knows. He knows. He knows. You can’t stop the endless refrain inside your own skull, panicked tears tightening your throat as you try to swallow against them. 

 Calm down. Iris can’t see you like this.

 You take slow, hiccoughing breaths, swallowing back the tears and anger until they’re gathered into a tight, hot ball in your chest. Forcing it down, you head for your bedroom. 

 Your door is cracked open, and Iris peers at you guiltily through the gap. You almost want to laugh as she jumps backwards, hopping nervously from foot to foot as you cross your arms. 

 “I thought you were supposed to be in bed,” you say, raising an eyebrow. Iris scuffs her foot guiltily against the floor. 

 “I, um, I heard Mr. Bucky,” she admits, and you have to stop yourself from smacking a frustrated palm against your forehead. “Why is he here, Mommy?” 

 You’ve never felt more like shit than in this moment—you can’t tell her. Not like this. 

 “He’s… he’s not feeling well, babes. He’s going to rest downstairs, on the couch.” 

 Iris looks at you excitedly. “So he’ll be here for breakfast?!”

 “No.” You say quickly, and her round eyes go glassy. “He has somewhere to be tomorrow morning, so he’ll be gone when we get up for school.” You’re not sure if you’re saying this for her benefit, or yours. “Into bed.” You say, patting the mattress. “You’re sleeping with me tonight.” 

 Bucky is standing in front of the fireplace in your living room. It doesn’t work, but the hearth serves as a display wall of sorts. Framed pictures of Iris, photos of you two together, your parents, your life. There’s a sort of sad bemusement on his face, like he can’t believe your life went on without him. That you had lived without him. You watch as he reaches forward to trace Iris’ face through the glass, and wonder if he’s looking for the parts of her that reflect him.

 You clear your throat and he turns, guiltily shoving his hands into his pockets. The silence is so heavy between you, you aren’t sure if you can carry it. Luckily for you, Bucky breaks it first. 

 “I dunno how I didn’t see it the first time,” he says with a sad, hoarse little laugh. “She looks just fuckin’ like me.” You’re not sure what you hate more. The fact that he said it, or the fact that it was true. “Kid’s wearing my goddamn face and it took me a month to notice it.” He turns like he’s going to grab a picture off of the shelf but misjudges the distance, and stumbles against the wall with a thud. 

 “Jesus, Buck!” You rush over to him to stop him falling. Grunting, you loop one of his arms over your shoulders. He goes with you easily, mumbling something you don’t understand as you half drag him towards the couch. “You need to lay the fuck down.” You growl, sloughing him onto the cushions. He lands with a soft “oof”, and begins kicking at his boots. 

 “Hold on—christ— I’ll help you.” You tug his boots off and toss them to the floor as he curls in on himself. 

 You’re not sure how a man his size can look so small, so fragile, but he does. The angry, bitter part of you wants to throw the blanket and pillow on the floor in a heap, but you don’t. You spread it out over his sleeping form and he mumbles, twitching. Carefully, you reach to tuck the pillow under his head, and pause as your fingers brush his cheek. You let them linger for a moment before pulling your hand back quickly, and cradling it against your chest. 

 You turn sharply and head back for the staircase. 

 “Goodnight. Jellybean.”

 His voice stops you in your tracks, the raspy word making your throat tight. 

 He won’t remember it in the morning.

 You go upstairs. 

 Iris is asleep in your bed when you open the door. Sleep finds her easily, and you’re glad for it. It means she feels safe, something you don’t want to jeopardize with the man sleeping it off on your couch downstairs. 

 You suppose you had been lucky, not having to see him like Steve did, strung out and barely coherent. If you can help it, Iris will be spared that sight forever. Fists clenched determinedly in the duvet, you stare at the ceiling, waiting for—you don’t know what you’re waiting for. The doorknob to jiggle, for sounds of destruction to arise from downstairs, the sound of his voice, for sleep—for anything. 

 And then, finally, you sleep. 

 🎤

This isn’t Steve’s house.

 Bucky stares up at the unfamiliar ceiling, counting the minutes until the memories begin to trickle back into his skull. He remembers scoring—easier now than it ever was, considering. Every bar-back knows a guy who knows a guy who can get him what he wants, all he has to do is ask. 

 And boy did he fucking ask.  

 He remembers the disembodied rolling bliss, remembers you, your disappointed face. Bucky groans, sitting up. The blanket falls to his lap, and he furrows his brows, picking up the edge. He knows what Kitty will say when he comes to meeting today. It’s a small town and word travels fast. Bucky knows he wasn’t exactly discreet. He’s used to it by now, the well of disgust and shame that begins to grow in his stomach the more he recalls. 

 It was inevitable, the demon whispers, and Bucky wonders fearfully if it’s right.

 I shouldn’t have come here, he thinks to himself as he looks around. His head is  still cottony with the pill-hangover, but he knows enough to know he’s an invader here. Why did he even come? The pitiful confrontation he’d forced had gone nowhere, ending with him passed out on your sofa. Bucky rubs his temples. 

 The whole house smells like caramel apple, your favorite candle. Bucky doesn’t know why he still knows that, but he does. It’s neat enough, but there are signs of life everywhere. Iris’ toys, your books. And in the corner, your guitar. It’s well taken care of, the used Sweetwater you’d managed to get your hands on. He remembered the day you’d found it, rescuing it from the attic of Kevin Harris’ grandmother’s place after she passed. 

 “Good, you’re up.” Your clipped voice sounds from the doorway. He looks up to see you, still in the oversized shirt you used for pajamas and leaned against the wall. You look tired, and Bucky knows it’s his fault. “How are you feeling?” 

 He laughs dryly. “Like an asshole.” He’s a wrecking ball. “Is, um. Is Iris…?”

 “She’s fine,” you say, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before you fold your arms across your chest. “She didn’t see you.” He’s thankful for that, at least. “I called Steve. He’s on his way.” 

 Bucky grimaces. He doesn’t want to see Steve, not after—

 “Why did you tell Steve and not me?” He blurts,. “Why did you tell him about Iris?”

 “He guessed,” you say defensively. “And even if I had, that’s my business. You made your choices very clear, Bucky.” You glare at him from across the room. He doesn’t know what to say to that—you’re right. 

 “She’s my daughter.” 

 “Bucky. I couldn’t—last night? I… How could I let you meet her like that?” 

 The shame burns in his throat and he swallows tightly against it. 

 “I know. But I—” The sound of someone at the door makes the both of you jump. 

 “I’ll be right back,” you say, and disappear down the hall. Bucky stands, folding the blanket you’d given him and placing it neatly on the couch cushions. He hears your footsteps recede, and then the sound of the door lock unlatching. Your voice floats down the hall, quiet but audible. 

 “Oh—Andy.”

 And then a distinctly male voice. “I wanted to stop by, maybe help with drop-off today? I figured we could get breakfast together after.” 

 “I, um. You know what, Andy? Now is just really not a good time—”

 “Is that your bat? Did something happen last night?” He sounds concerned. “Is everything okay?”

 “Yes, yes everything’s fine, no—wait, Andy I said it’s not a good time—”

 Bucky backs away from the archway just as Andy rounds the corner. His shocked face contorts with anger as he whips his head around. 

 “What the hell is he doing here?”

 Bucky feels hot anger flare in his chest as he crosses his arms. “Could ask the same of you.” Andy takes a step forward before you grab his arm.

 “Would the two of you just fucking stop? Andy I said it’s not a good goddamn time!” Bucky watches you run a frustrated hand through your hair, tugging on it before letting go. He shouldn’t feel so territorial—you aren’t his. That doesn’t stop the sneer from curling his lip as he watches the other man reluctantly stand down. 

 “What is he doing here?” Andy asks again, and you purse your lips. 

 “Andrew Barber this is my house. I do not have to explain myself to you.” Andy looks positively murderous at that, but says nothing, crossing his arms as he levels a hard look at Bucky. “He crashed on my couch last night. Happy?”

 “No.” Andy replies without taking his eyes off of Bucky. “You should have called me.” There’s a possessiveness in his tone that makes Bucky’s hackles rise. He’s the one with history, it’s Andy who’s the newcomer. What right does he have, to look at Bucky like the interloper? He doesn’t like the way Andy positions himself between you, a hand on the curve of your hip over the t-shirt. It’s familiar in a way that makes Bucky want to bare his teeth in warning. 

 You let her go, the demon reminds him. You threw her away like trash. He is pleased, though, to see you shove Andy’s hand away as you place your hands on your hips stubbornly. 

 “I’m an adult, Andy, and I handled it.” You say, your hard glare daring him to challenge you. He doesn’t. “Besides. Bucky was just leaving.” You say it pointedly around Andy’s broad shoulders. 

 Bucky doesn’t want to leave now, especially not now that Andy is here, but there’s little room for him to argue, not when he sees Steve pull up in the pickup through the living room window. 

 “Yeah.” He mutters. “Just leaving.” He shoves his hands into his pockets as he heads for the door. You walk him out onto the porch, your arms still crossed over your chest. He looks past you to Andy, who smiles at him smugly. 

 “Try not to miss your meeting,” he says, and you whip your head around to glare at him, before closing the door behind you. 

 “Look, ignore Andy. He’s just—”

 “An asshole?” Bucky scoffs. “I didn’t think that was your type.” You scowl at him. 

 “Well, if he’s an asshole then I’m two for two, so it’s definitely my type.” You retort sharply. “Bucky, look. Last night—”

 “I fucked up,” he says quickly. He doesn’t want to hear you say it. He doesn’t know why, but for some reason he knows that hearing you tell him he fucking relapsed again would make him hurt worse than the fucking DT’s. “I know I fucked up.” 

 “You did,” you say, and he winces. That stings, too. Maybe worse. “You had three weeks, Buck. Why’d you throw that away?” 

 His lip curls. “Finding out you have a kid six years into their life isn’t really awesome news.” He snaps back. “You, Steve, you both lied to me.” He can’t help the accusatory pitch his tone takes. He knows you take note of it too, your eyes narrowing to angry slits. 

 “Oh bull-fucking-shit, Bucky,” you say, tossing your hands up. “Call after call after call, none of my fucking letters answered.” You shake your head at him. “What was I supposed to do? You shut me out! I wasn’t going to fucking chase you forever!” 

 “What?” Bucky steps back, reeling. “What are you talking about? I never got one fucking call—”

 “I am not doing this with you.” You say, pinching the bridge of your nose as you turn back towards the front door. “I am not going to fucking stand here and argue with you about what I know I did. You don’t get to show up high at my fucking house and demand to be treated like you would have been father of the year if you’d known.” 

 “Maybe I fucking would have!” He spits, the old venom welling up temptingly under his tongue. He regrets the words before they’re even fully out of his mouth. “If you hadn’t tried to trap me—”

 The slap echoes in his ears before he feels the sting of it, raising his own hand to his face where you had hit him.

 “Get the fuck out of here.” You spit through gritted teeth. Your eyes are wet with unshed tears, and the angry shame in Bucky’s chest grows until angry tears are pricking at his eyes too. It isn’t for you, his anger. No, it’s for himself—because there’s no one Bucky hates more than the man he sees reflected in your glassy eyes. 

 “Don’t fucking come back until you’re sober, you understand me?” You shove a finger into his chest. “I would rather tell her you’re dead than let her see you like this.” 

 You don’t wait for him to answer, instead you yank open the door and shut it in his face, barricading him on the other side. He’s tempted to bang on the door, to kick and punch at it until you’re forced to come back out again because this isn’t fucking over, dammit—

 But he doesn’t. 

 Bucky searches for the half empty carton of cigarettes in his jacket pocket, sticking one between his lips as he gets unceremoniously into the passenger seat of Steve’s pickup. 

 “Rough night?” He asks as Bucky straps himself in, and grabs for the lighter in the cupholder. He doesn’t answer right away, lighting the cigarette and exhaling a few clouds of acrid smoke as Steve pulls out into traffic. 

 “Yeah,” he says, tapping the ash out of the open window. He watches the row of brick and mortar houses fade into the distance in the rearview mirror. “Rough.” 

 🎤

 “Iron Man at your service, this is Tony.” Tina had been rather reluctant to patch Bucky through to Tony’s personal line, but after a few choice words—some of them threats—she had done so. 

 “Tony.” 

 “Bucky! How are you? How’s it going in Milton?”

 “Meridian.”

 “Whatever.”

 “Fine,” he says, choosing purposefully not to mention his bender just the night before. “Listen, did you uh. Ever get any letters, phone calls, or anything from anybody back home in Meridian?”

 “Bucky you get so much fucking fan-mail we could fill an olympic swimming pool with it—not now, baby, I’m on the phone,” he hears Tony stage whisper to someone who giggles. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

 “When I first signed up. They’d be old.” 

 “Probably? I mean nothing of note. You know we sort through the mail and give you the important stuff. Anything from your personal contacts, you would have seen. Look is there a point to this? Because I’ve got to tell you, I’ve got some pressing business to attend to, if you catch my meaning.”

 Bucky rolls his eyes. Tony has never thought twice about sampling from the buffet of groupies that seemed to tail Valkyrie’s Revenge like lost puppies. 

 “I need to know if I got letters about a kid, Tony.”

 “What?”

 “A fucking kid Tony. I need to know if we were contacted—”

 “I told you,” he says quickly, his tone dismissive. “If they got sent, you’d have seen ‘em, kid. Why? Somebody springing a paternity suit on us?” He hears Tony hush more people, excusing himself quietly. The background noise coming through the receiver seems to fade until there’s only quiet breathing on the other end. 

 “No. I mean—I don’t know. I just…” He pauses. You’d seemed so certain, so sure of yourself when you claimed you’d tried to contact him. Call after call… all my letters unanswered. “I want to know.” 

 “Well I can’t help you, pal,” Tony replies. “We’d have told you if we got them.” 

 “Yeah. Sure.” Bucky swallows against the lump in his throat. 

 “Keep me posted. This is why we have lawyers.” 

 Bucky hangs up without another word, frustratedly tossing his phone to the bed. He’d refused to speak to Steve when he asked him where he went, why he’d been gone all night. It was easy enough to deflect with an argument, a skill Bucky had learned the very first time his bandmates had tried to take him to task for his behavior. No one wants a screaming match at ten in the morning. 

 He can’t deflect himself, though, can’t stop the thoughts going round and round in his skull like a carousel. Someone had lied to him, someone had kept Iris from him. 

 And if not you, then who?

 Steve’s quiet knock on his door makes Bucky’s head snap up, his eyes narrowing as his friend steps across the threshold. He’s still angry, and Steve knows it, holding his hands up placatingly. 

 “Look. I know you don’t want to talk to me right now. But I’m heading out, and I think you should come with me.”

 Bucky eyes him suspiciously. “If you’re trying to drop me off at a facility this is a shitty fucking way to start.” Steve shakes his head. 

 “Not a facility.” 

 “Then where?”

 “You’ll see.” Bucky watches his friend’s face for a tell—Steve always was a terrible liar. There doesn’t seem to be one though, not that Bucky can see. He gets up slowly, and follows Steve back down the stairs and out the front door. Steve gets into the driver’s seat, and waits patiently for Bucky to catch up before the truck engine roars to life. Bucky is glad that Steve doesn’t force conversation, doesn’t try to fill the silence with meaningless platitudes as he drives. 

 He doesn’t turn toward Meridian, instead taking the dirt road north of town, away from the meager downtown strip and up into the hills. It’s a gloomy day, overcast and gray, with the occasional drop of rain splattering against the windshield. The back-roads are both familiar and strange to him now, it’s been so long since he’s driven them. 

 Bucky remembers that—driving full speed around the treacherous corners with you standing up through the sunroof, your arms outstretched like you were trying to touch the sky. He’d believed you could then, in those moments, that your fingertips could touch the deep unending blue. 

 That blue is gone, though, as are the people you were—Bucky doesn’t know you anymore. 

 He’s surprised, when Steve pulls up to the old graveyard and doesn’t pass by, slowing to a stop outside the gates. 

 “What are you doing?” Bucky asks, panic gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. “Steve—”

 “How long’s it been, Buck? Five years? Six?” 

 “Fuck you,” Bucky snarls, lunging forward to try and grab the keys from Steve himself. “I don’t want—”

 “For once, Buck, I could not give a shit less about what you want.” Steve stuffs the keys into his pocket and gets out of the car. “Come on.” He doesn’t wait for Bucky, pulling open one of the wrought iron gates with both hands. It opens with a rough squeal. Bucky reluctantly unbuckles himself, sticking a nervous cigarette between his lips as he follows him down the muddy path. His hands are trembling and unsure as he lifts the lighter, but his feet know the way without his direction. 

 The graves are right next to each other, just like they are in Bucky’s nightmares. The grass is green over the top of them, different from the loose dirt that had been shoveled on top just before Bucky had lit out of Meridian. 

 Should have been me.

 “Why did you bring me here?” Bucky asks, his throat tight with tears he doesn’t want to shed. The cigarette burns at his lips, and he flicks the remains of it into the damp grass behind him. 

 “It’s the one place you’ve been avoiding. You promised you would come back.” 

 Bucky flinches. 

 It’s the first promise he ever broke, the one he’d made as he tossed in his handful of dirt like the preacher told him to. They’re in a better place, he’d said, patting Bucky sadly on the shoulder. A better place. Bucky was too old then to believe the lie—there was no better place. Just cold, wet earth and worms and nothing. He wonders if the demon was born that day, coming up out of the dirt while his mother and sister were lowered into it, because he’d known he was lying, even as he spoke the soft words to Becca’s tombstone—

 He would never come back. 

 But here you are, his self loathing whispers. Even a broken clock is right twice a day.

 “It should have been me,” he says softly, stepping forward to rest his palm against the cold stone. “We all know it should have been me.” 

 “I don’t think Becca would agree with you.”

 “Well it doesn’t matter what you think,” Bucky snarls over his shoulder. “She’s dead.” Steve runs a frustrated hand through his hair. 

 “Yeah, Buck. She’s dead. She’s dead because Fred Ackerson’s truck jumped the guardrail.” Bucky doesn’t know why hearing that from Steve enrages him, makes him want to pummel his best friend’s face into pulp right there in the dirt next to his sister. 

 “You don’t understand,” he says through gritted teeth, his hand a tight fist on the tombstone. “If I had—” Steve grabs his shoulders, shaking him. 

 “What? What would you have done? She died on impact.” There are tears in his eyes too. “How long are you going to punish yourself for this shit, Buck?”

 “I deserve—”

 “Iris is six.” Steve’s words cut through him like a blade. “Do you want to see her make it to seven? Eight? Or do you want to be down there in the dirt?” He asks, his voice hard. “Because you won’t. Fuck, Bucky, you keep this shit up, I don’t think you’re going to see Christmas.” 

 “Maybe I shouldn’t.”

 “Yeah, well, that’s up to you, isn’t it?” Steve says, releasing him. “It’s always been up to you.” He casts a forlorn look at Becca’s tombstone over Bucky’s shoulder, before he shakes his head. “Say… whatever you need to say. I’ll be waiting for you in the truck.” The silence closes in around him like fog, so loud that Bucky’s ears ring with it as he stares at the graves. He’d never said anything at the funerals, his tight lipped silence as loud as any of the moving eulogies given by those that had known them. 

 Bucky clears his throat. “Hey, Beccs.” He says in a hoarse, quiet voice. “B-been a while, huh?” The ground is muddy, but he sits down on it anyway, on the strip of grass between his mother and sister. “I, um. I don’t know what to say. That’s why I never said anything, it all seemed… stupid, I guess. Because you can’t hear me where you are, so… what does it matter, right?” 

 He’s tempted to give up and go back to the car, but Bucky swallows down the bitter urge, and keeps trying. 

 “But… if you could hear me, Beccs, I’m—I’m fuckin’ sorry.” His voice cracks. It feels like glass in his veins to say it, to finally admit it out loud to the air. “I am so fuckin’ sorry.” He hates to think about that night, about pulling mom and Beccs out of the twisted burning metal. The only way he can is with the pills, but there aren’t any this time; nothing to stop him from having to sit with his pain.

 And for the first time in a long time, Bucky does. He welcomes it back like an old friend—and for once, the demon is silent. 

 “I’m sorry I didn’t turn fast enough, didn’t see him coming,” he mumbles through steady tears. “I’d give anything for it to be me in there, not you.” The tears won’t stop now that they’ve started. “Y-you were going to be fucking—I dunno. A fucking astrophysicist, or something, Beccs. A goddamn force, and I, fuck. I don’t know what to be without you, sis. I… I don’t even want to be.” He admits the last part softly, to himself. He hasn’t thought it, really, not beyond wishing he could trade places with her. 

 If he was honest, Bucky wanted to die. That was the truth of it. That was why he didn’t bother to save money, why he did every drug he could until he was blacking out. He wanted oblivion—like mom. Like Becca. 

 That’s not what Beccs would want. The voice is softer, not acid like the one that usually follows every conscious thought. 

 She would want you to live.

 Bucky isn’t sure how long he sits there in the cold drizzle before he gets up, wiping at his face. His hair is slick from the rain, and he shakes the droplets off of his coat before he gets into the passenger seat of Steve’s truck. He’s waiting—just like he said he was. 

 He starts it wordlessly, and they’re halfway back to Meridian when he asks him. 

 “Did you say what you needed to say, Buck?”  Bucky follows the path of a particularly fat drop of rain down the window with his finger until it passes from view. 

 “Yeah. I think so.” 

next chapter

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

[coal15]

So for the tens and tens of people out there following my WIPs, I apologize that it's been ages since I posted another chapter. At first it was just a monster case of writer's block but then a potentially devastating health crisis came up--for now it looks like I'm at least not staring down the barrel of imminent doom, but it has been a teensy bit distracting. I'm trying to get the creative engines revving again, but it's slow going. I don't wanna force things and end up cranking out garbage chapters, but it's hard not to pressure myself. So to lift my spirits and maybe re-ignite some confidence, I've decided to post links to the works I'm most proud of.

**fandoms represented below the cut are Heartstopper, 9-1-1, Good Omens, Sleepy Hollow, and The Magicians. Comments welcome but certainly not required (she says whilst mewling in the general direction of her inbox)

Protected. The Magicians, Queliot. Explicit but also full of romance and cuddles. If I had to pick one project as my "crowning achievement," it would be this baby. It follows Queliot's entire life together. 11 chapters. **it even got mentioned in a list on syfy, I had no idea until someone pointed it out to me in the comments, and yes I did 100% squeal about it for days even though it was just a tiny blurb on the list

Inconvenient Mistletoe. Sleepy Hollow, Ichabbie. Porn With Plot. (lots of plot) This was the first fanfic I ever wrote. Had no intention of publishing, but in a sudden fit of daring I posted it to ff.net and it got such an enthusiastic response I kept going. Covers the whole Apocalypse and a few years beyond. Every fic I've written since then owes its existence to this one. 17 chapters.

Of Guilt and Victory. Heartstopper, Nick and Charlie. General Audiences. This one is strange in that the story is what it is because Nick can't bear the thought of finding out someone has un-alived themselves when he knew it might happen and did/said nothing to intervene. This is in regards to Ben but at NO POINT is he forgiven for what he did nor sh*tty behavior in general, but this idea just fell into my mind based on what a beautiful golden retriever of a human Nick Nelson is, and the story evolved from there. It's odd, but I'm proud of it. 7 chapters.

A Series of Odd Proposals. Heartstopper, Nick and Charlie. General Audiences. This is one of those WIPs I mentioned. 8 chapters so far. It follows them through adulthood. In the chapter I'm currently writing their daughter is sixteen.

*Discalimer re: my 911 fics* yes I've written for both buddie and bucktommy, if it offends you that I've done such a thing the solution is easy: don't read them.

All's Well That Ends Well. 911, Buddie. Teen and up audiences. The whole thing pretty much revolves around the evolution of their love story from present day into old age. 10 chapters.

Buck's Gonna Buck. 911, Bucktommy. Mostly GA, but there is a brief mention of sex toys to I tagged it teen and up. These three "chapters" are just short, ridiculous drabbles. 1) Buck's POV getting ready for a date. 2) Tommy's POV getting ready for the date. 3) The date. Just silly fun. We haven't had much time w/them yet but I'm hoping to write more for them in s8 when there's more material to work with.

All Roads Lead Back. Good Omens, Aziracrow. Teen and up. One of those obnoxious WIPs. Starts a few weeks after s2 ends. 11 chapters thus far and we're tits deep in a rebellion against The Metatron in Heaven and searching for the true Almighty. Also, Muriel is a badass.

The Long Way Home. The Magicians, Queliot. Teen and up. Eliot embarks on a desperate mission to bring Quentin back from the underworld. Angst, danger, adventure, longing, romance, humor. Even a musical episode ********Okay, so this one is unusual in that I was just about to start writing the LAST DAMN CHAPTER when the pandemic hit. And how had I planned to end it since the very beginning? Well our heroes would win the war of course, but as a last act of vicious revenge before defeat the Library was gonna . . . wait for it . . . unleash a deadly pandemic upon the world and kill millions. I came up with this ending long before the pandemic, but . . . yeah. Nope. But I couldn't think of a better idea either. So it just sat there without an ending and thanks to everything else going on in the world I totally forgot about it for like a year. And when I did remember I still couldn't come up with anything better than my original idea. Should I finish it and stick to the original plan even though it's SO on the nose? I am super open to alternative suggestions here, because if it had an ending I absolutely would have listed it right up there with Protected. Currently 12 chapters. Again, alternative ending suggestions super welcome!

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

So the 20 Qs for Fic Writers had me thinking that I should update y’all on my WIPs. So, I wrote down the file titles and typed the list up for you, my lovely followers.

Update

Want to know what I’ve been working on? See below the cut. ❤️💙💚💛

If you want to know about one or more of the WIPs fics below, please comment or reblog telling me the name(s)/title(s). I’m happy to answer. 😄 Excited to hear from you.

Legend

“ORIGINAL” means it isn’t a fandom fic. It’s my original piece of work.

“ ** ” means it’s published on ao3 and if you want more, you need to let me know in comments here or on ao3 and which one.

✍️ means it is an ask or equest so those are actively being worked on

Fic Titles:

(C) Don’t provoke Dean… (Pack Alpha!Hunter!Dean x Packless Omega!Hunter!Reader)

(C) Fledgling Cas**

#99 prompt (“You’re such a needy, good girl, aren’t you?” Female Sub Reader)

#99 v.2 prompt (“You’re such a needy, good pet, aren’t you?” Gender neutral Sub Reader)

09x03 I’m no angel Alt (just one scene)

09x03 I’m no angel Alt 2.0 (Episode rewrite)

2024-28-Feb Ask Beau x Reader ✍️

Alec M x Reader Crush (Alec McDowell x OFC Reader; Roommates to Lovers)

Alec x Reader 2

Alpha Dr Castiel Alpha Dean sinus

An Angel’s Unexpected Companion

Artsy summer exchange 2024 (Exchange SFW fic)

AU - BDSM Dom Cas switch/Dom Dean

Baby dragon vs the followers of the Thanatos Stone

Being a sex good isn’t all is cracked up to be (God!Dean x Angel!Castiel)

Bingo prompt Soldier Boy camboy

Blind Castiel A/B/O

By the flowers in his eyes (blind Gabriel)

Castiel’s Wings 2.0** (Angel Castiel x Hunter!F!Reader)

Dadstiel Plot 2.0 (Destiel+Kid)

Destiel date night

Domestic Destiel #? Glowy Angel seduction

Domestic Destiel #? Zorro meets Cowboy

Dragon Cas x Dean plot (Giant and Pet…)

Falling in love With an Angel ORIGINAL

Fell in love with a demon (Hell Knight Dean x Witch Reader; MoC Dean x Witch Reader)

Grindr meets long-term PLOT OUTLINE (Paramedic Dean x Doctor Castiel)

Guardian of Humanity A/B/O Plot

Guardian of Humanity A/B/O World and…

Guardian of Humanity Scene Drabble

Heat (Hunters!Destiel x Complex!Reader)

Imagine Dean comes home after having a bad day. (Hunter!Dean x Hunter!Reader)

Janus Coin - Winchester Brotherly Love (Body Swaping)

Post 15x19 DestielxOFC!Alex

Prize - Ketch/Gadreel/Dean+Kid✍️

Regarding Dean Rewrite 12 x 11 (Episode rewrite)

Romancing the Hunter** (Destiel x Reader)

Rough times with your mental illness…

Rough times with your mental illness…2.0

RPF First (Not) Date (Actor!Jensen Ackles x Actress!Female!Reader)

Sam x Psychic Reader (Reader thinks Sam has the most beautiful soul)

Sick Stubborn Reader x Angel Cas

Sinclair’s Daughter

Sleepy Angel Kisses (Destiel)

Soldier Boy x Reader (Solider Boy x Supe!F!Reader)

Spn 2.0 (Series rewrite)

Spn meets Fifth Element

Spn/Lilo & Stitch Fusion

Stereo love (Rock Star!Dean x Music Professor!Castiel)

Stone of Thanatos (death)

Surprise me contd** (Angel!Castiel x Hunter!F!Reader)

The Daughter of Death and Justice concept (Revenge fic, sort of; Destiel x Death Knight!OFC)

The monster under my bed (TFW Case Fic)

The Nephilim’s daughter (Revenge fic; Destiel x Death Knight!OFC)

The Omega (Alphas Destiel x Rescued Omega!Alex)

The Virus ORIGINAL (Origin story of A/B/O)

Two Men and the Virgin (AU - Modern; Husbands!Destiel x Single F!Henri (Neighbors to Lovers))

Vampire Dean (Currently, just smut)

Winchester A Life in the Hunter House (Tiny!Angel!Castiel x Tiny!Dean)

You want two Deans, Cas? (Angel Castiel x Current Dean x Season XX Dean; Slow burn; includes TFW 2.0)

[levelzeo]

Level Zeo's Brilliant Diamond Nuzlocke - Part 4

It’s Nuzlocke time again baby.  I took a break for a few days and had a great time with my loved ones, but now I’m back and better than ever!  If you are just joining me for my journey, where I talk about what happens in my Nuzlocke while also telling you about what personalities I think my Pokemon have, then you need to go catch up on the other parts.  You can read parts 1-3 HERE, HERE, and HERE.  It’s okay, I’ll wait for you to come back.  If you’re all caught up, then let’s get into things.

Current Team

Simmer the Monferno

Boof the Bibarel

Doc the Zubat

Petard the Geodude

Orion the Luxio

Puddle the Psyduck

Boxed Pokemon: 3

Deaths: 1

Badges: 1

When I last updated, I mentioned that I spread honey on a couple of trees.  Doing so means that it's time to get my encounters for Floaroma Meadow and Route 205.  Checking on the trees, I ended up with Dex the Aipom from Floaroma, and Silk the Wurmple from 205.

Dex has a Relaxed nature and is Somewhat Stubborn.  She’s a dextrous little monkey who doesn’t take anything seriously.  She sees battling as nothing more than a weird complicated game, even as others like Simmer or Puddle try to tell her otherwise.  It seems like putting her on the team at this moment wouldn’t be a good idea, so it is off to the box she goes.

Silk has a Quiet nature and Likes to Relax.  She’s a sleepy little Wurmple.  Unless something goes very wrong, or I desperately need her specific move coverage, she will probably stay in the box, which is perfectly okay with her.  While others in the box run around and play (Snek, Bonny, and Dex), she just takes naps.  Before I let her sleep though, I leave her on the team for a couple of wild encounters just to see what she will evolve into.  Orion keeps a watchful eye while Doc drains the life from some wild Buizel.  After gaining one level, Silk becomes a Silcoon.  And then she gets put in the box to nap.

Before I make my way further down Route 205, I decide to circle back to Jubilife.  I want to get more apps for my watch and stop at the TV center to do the lottery.  While there, I make the mistake of talking to a random clown, who pulls out a Mr Mime to attack me without mercy.  Orion sees the danger and stands between the team and the murderous mime.  He does what he can, but gets beaten down hard by the clown’s attacks.  Boof jumps in to take an attack that would have probably killed Orion, and hits Headbutt after Headbutt into the Mr Mime.  Eventually, both combatants are in the red.  Despite the fears of both myself and Simmer, the Monferno enters battle to hopefully end this before we lose anyone.  Luckily, the mime only uses Pound, and Simmer can land a Mach Punch on the next turn to win.

That was terrifying.  What is it with this city and clowns?  If I was even a little less lucky, Orion, Boof, or even Simmer could have died.  Somehow we survived though, and it will take a lot to make me come back to Jubilife.  I run all the way back to Route 205, and continue with my Pokemon journey.

The team fights the many trainers on Route 205.  Puddle is more and more becoming an excellent member of the team, easily destroying the rock and fighting types being thrown against us, proving her psychic abilities.  And if she can’t handle it, then Boof and Petard are always more than happy to get in there and fight together.

We eventually make it to Eterna Forest, where we both meet and agree to chaperone Cheryl.  Her ability to keep all of my pokemon healthy is highly valuable, and I make good use of it in order to train the team in preparation for the next Gym.

While we bumble about in the forest, I encounter a Murkrow who I name Corva.  She is Rash and Quick Tempered.  An ex-mob boss who was deposed by her former second-in-command, Corva is the kind of Pokemon who would plot someone’s death for even a perceived slight.  She is looking to form a new criminal empire and to use it to exact her revenge.  I send her to the box, hoping she doesn’t turn any of the other Pokemon in there to a life of crime.

Knowing that the next Gym is going to be grass type, I focus on training Doc and Simmer, probably my two Pokemon who would get along the least.  They are both very particular and like things being done in a certain way, so their wants and needs often clash.  Simmer finds Doc to be a dangerous, evil, selfish little bat.  On the other side, Doc sees Simmer as a cowardly fool, and still somewhat blames the Monferno for our Nuzlocke’s first death.  In fact, his desire to show up my starter causes Doc to train himself to evolution, evolving into a Golbat!

With our training done, we say goodbye to Cheryl and leave Eterna Forest.  Orion fights off some fishermen who try to bother us, and we enter Eterna City.  Apparently Team Galactic has been kidnapping Pokemon and bike salesmen, but we have no time to focus on that, we have a Gym to defeat!  The Gym trainers are easily defeated, so let’s skip right to the main event, the fight against Gardenia.  Second Gym battle, start!

Round 1 is against Cherubi.  Doc looms large about the grass type in his now evolved form, and he easily defeats them with a single Poison Fang.  Round 2 brings out a Turtwig, and Doc stays in, confident that his superior intellect and abilities will allow him to defeat this Gym by himself.

Unfortunately, Doc is a little too confident.  His Poison Fang is not enough to kill this time, and the Turtwig is able to set up a Reflect.  Doc knows that brute strength won’t be enough now, so as Turtwig gets healed with a potion, Doc is able to confuse it with Supersonic.  With his foe debilitated by confusion, Doc goes back on the offensive with Poison Fang, dealing a little less than half as Turtwig uses Work Up.  That Reflect will make this somewhat more difficult.  Fortunately for us, Doc’s attack also inflicts poison, dealing a little more damage.  Another attack from Doc puts the Turtwig into the red, but the grass type breaks out of its confusion and lands a Critical Razor Leaf before succumbing to poison damage.  Doc’s ego must take a blow here.  He is not stupid enough to risk himself against Gardenia’s ace after that Razor Leaf.  With a sigh and a sneer, he switches out for Simmer.

Final Round.  Simmer vs Roserade.  The grass type begins with a Stun Spore, an attack that could potentially cripple us and lose us this battle, but Simmer is able to dodge effortlessly and hit a Flame Wheel, leaving the Roserade with a nasty burn.  The opponent eats their berry, but the extra health will not be enough to save them, especially as the Reflect that had been set up finally runs out.  Grass Knot does about a quarter of Simmer’s health, while my Monferno hits with a Critical Flame Wheel, knocking out the Roserade for good, and winning us our Second Gym Badge!

Forest Badge Obtained!

Two Badges down, and no new losses!  The team is riding high despite Doc’s distaste at not being the one to bring down the final opponent.  We gain access to Cut, which will allow us to finally take care of this city’s pesky Galactic problem.  A problem I will take care of next time.  Also on my list of things to do next time is to enter the Grand Underground.  I think I will probably give myself one encounter for each Zone, giving me a total of six encounters from the underground.  Something to look forward to as the journey continues.

[pervysenpaix]

I have no idea what this is but, I needed to get it off my chest after listening to this song 😭

WARNING: FOUL LANGUAGE, IMPLIED SEXUAL CONTENT,

“Damn Katsuki, if looks could kill then you’d be an uzi or a shotgun. BANG! What’s up with that thang ? I wanna know, how does it hang ?” you leaned closer, smirking as the lord explosive blonde looked away in embarrassment.

“Get the fuck away from me, dumbass” he growled, pushing you off the desk; it would’ve been bad if Deku hadn’t caught you. “(Y/N) you’ve gotta stop teasing Kacchan” he says, face a bit flushed from being pressed against you.

“I can’t be blamed for this Izu, he’s sitting over there looking magically delicious like a box of lucky charms. Can you blame for wanted to lick him like a lollipop?” laughter erupted across the classroom, the only ones complaining were sleepy Aizawa, in his bean bag, Iida who was lecturing, and Brokechako who was internally outraged.

Katsuki sunk further in his sit, staring at his desk with a fierce blush covering his cheeks, probably plotting his revenge.

“(Y/N)-“ Izuku warned, “you know you shouldn’t tease Kacchan like that.” You smirked, turning to wrap your arms around the greenette’s neck. “You’re right, let me chill on him for a bit. I’ve been meaning to ask you for your mom’s number” Izuku looks confused, “why do you need her number ?”

“Cause I’d like to personally thank her for a butt like that. Can I get some fries with that shake, baby?” Izuku’s blush now rivaled Katsuki’s, “(Y/N) calm down, p-please.” You could see that he was to get riled up and you wanted to know how far you could push.

Might as well. I’m already gonna get wrecked, let’s do it plus ultra.

“But Mr. Lover, I can’t help myself you’re a sexy motherfu-

“(Y/N) PLEASE !” Izuku’s large hands covered your mouth and you couldn’t help yourself from laughing. Their responses were golden. Izuku glared at you, leaning down he whispered, “since you keep running that big mouth of yours, we’re gonna make sure that you don’t close it for a while”.

I’m in danger 😃

[softyoongiionly]

♡︎Hᴛᴛᴘ Eʀʀᴏʀ 400 [Uɴᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀɪᴢᴇᴅ] ♡︎

☹︎ sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Min Yoongi is the top hacker in the world. He has put away countless other cyber criminals all whilst evading detection by virtually everyone he has ever crossed paths with, including the government. The diabolical super hacker that came close to tracking him down is now serving a 10 year prison sentence, all thanks to Yoongi’s handiwork. So what happens when the sentence is shortened unexpectedly? What happens when the biggest threat to public safety is roaming the streets again, determined to get revenge on the man who put him away? What happens when the worlds most infamous hacker just so happens to manage your local Mikrokosmic Electronics? A terabyte of trouble.

☹︎ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: hacker! Yoongi x reader

☹︎Gᴇɴʀᴇs: action, hacker! Au, smut, humor, angst (18+ only plz)

☹︎ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8.7k

☹︎ Wᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: swearing, likely inaccurate depictions of computers and hacking, mutual pining and a little bit of clown behavior, mild angst, mentions of violence (future), verbal altercation (between Yoongi and unruly customer), explicit smut, oral (both), ass eating, filming during sex, (this story, like all of my others, is 18+ only) 

☹︎ Aᴜᴛʜᴏʀs ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Welcome to the party!!! This is the first part of a four part series and its 3am and I am SLEEPY so this authors note is going to be a whole circus. I really hope you enjoy! I will try to continue to get these parts out on time, but I would love to know what you think. Special shout out to @bulletproofbirdy aka MY BESTIE who literally helps me with everything I ever write, and she is a genius and I love her. Also, @gldnrecs​ for so many cool plot elements and character development bits that make the story 8000 times better, i love you lots and I can’t wait to keep screaming about fics with you. oki bye. love you. here’s hacker yoongi...

Mikrokosmic Electronics

One thousand dollars was no easy prize. You spent most of your time away from school, working double shifts at the bar and, shoving all of your tip money into a baby pink piggy bank that you kept under your bed. Aching joints and sore muscles were a constant in your life, as was this desperate sense of dread every time you thought of this being your reality forever.

Financial instability felt very much like a thick cloud that hung over your head ever since you understood what money actually was. Your family knew the minefields of paycheck-to-paycheck living far too well, especially after the tragedy that struck nearly eleven years ago. Gaining a full-ride scholarship to the best art school in the country sounded like a way out, but you were a useless student without a laptop.  

And falling behind was too expensive.

The scent of computer plastic and old air freshener immediately fills your nose as you push against the warm glass of the double doors. Mikrokosmic Electronics was the best rated store online for both discounts and customer service, and it was only a few miles from your apartment.

So opting to come here was a no brainer.

The lighting in the store is soft and neon, reflecting off of the merchandise in meaningful but subtle hues. Everything is organized in a rather aesthetic way as well; computer towers, monitors, laptops, old gaming systems, new gaming systems…

Each of them carefully slotted in their place and ready for purchase.

There are two men in front of you and then a woman up at the counter, but after a few seconds the men quickly realize that they want to keep browsing and surrender their place in line. You are puttering around on your phone at first, not really paying much attention to your surroundings until the lady in front of you starts raising her voice.

“Are you serious right now? It’s only a week passed the expiration date, I know you can override it in your system. Just take the stupid coupon!”

The sharp angles in her voice jolt you upright as your wide eyes assess the scene before you. A middle-aged woman is poised for verbal sparring with her hands on her hips and an iced caramel macchiato sweating on the countertop.

You can see the man behind the register now, and you note that his appearance seems to blend in with the cool neon tones around the interior of the store.

He’s taller than her, his black hair shaggy on top and tapering off into a vibrant pink as it frames either side of his neck. He’s dressed in a white t-shirt that’s tucked into a pair of lightwashed Levi’s, the whole outfit being accessorized with the most intense deadpan you’ve ever seen in your life.

“So the coupon is expired and stupid? I’m not really sure why you’re making such a scene then…”

His raspy voice floats aimlessly into the air, the twang of sarcasm sour and apparent.

“Oh is that the tone you’re going to take with me? Are you kidding right now? I’ve never met anyone like you in my life- this is absolutely despicable! I don’t think I’m making myself clear, either take my coupon or you’re going to have a really big problem on your hands!”

Her voice makes you cringe and despite you trying to shrug off the sound, it only seems to cling to the fabric of your clothes, causing you to feel uncomfortable.

The man doesn’t even blink, “Ma’am your expired coupon is not my problem, the system wouldn’t take it and I don’t feel like doing an override. If you want a discount that bad, just lift something off the shelf and run. I’ll even give you a head start…”

You can’t quite see her face just yet but her body language indicates that she’s disgusted, “Oh you are just a horrible person, aren’t you? You’re harassing me when all I’m trying to do is save a little bit of money! This isn’t a business you’re running, it’s a scam! And you bet your ass I will be reporting it to the police-“

“I’m sure you will.” He muses, entirely uninterested. His expression is amusing you beyond belief, you’ve never seen anyone deal with an unruly customer this way, “But please step to the side to do so, you’re holding up my line…”

The woman scoffs, “No, I will not be stepping to the side. I want the number for corporate and I want your manager’s number as well. You cannot treat a paying customer this way!”

The mans lips twitch, the beginning of a smirk playing on them as he stands up a little straighter, “The number for corporate is 800-382-5968.” He seems to be holding back a bit of laughter, as if he were apart of a joke that only he understood, “Also, I am the manager, and if you want my number sweetheart, you’re going to have to buy more than an extension cord; my sales are a little low today…”

She is visibly disgusted, her French-tip nails gripping the cold, sweaty exterior of her caramel macchiato as she rips it from the counter, “You are disgusting! I will be contacting your supervisors and informing them that they should shut down this location immediately. What is your name?!” She leans in and scans over the tattered name tag on his shirt, “Yoongi???? Is that it? Well Yoongi, you better start looking for a new job! I can’t imagine anyone would want to employ you after I tell them what happened here today.”

“Yeah yeah- tell them all about my awful behavior,” He encourages smugly, “The world deserves to hear your story. But I’m going to need you to step aside now. As fun as this conversation has been, Yoongi has other customers to satisfy so-“ He shoos her with a gesture of his hand causing her to finally storm off, huffing and puffing all the while.

As she does, you are able to get an even better look at him.

He’s hot, like really hot, and suddenly you’re distracted.

“Hi, how can I help you?” Yoongi reapplies the boredom to his voice as he mindlessly wipes the ring of condensation from the glass countertop.

“Well, I was going to ask you for laptop recommendations, but if we can just take anything from the shelf, I don’t think I need your help anymore…”

The tone in your voice intrigues him, his posture unraveling slightly as his cat-like gaze travel up the length of your body before finally clawing at your face. The smirk that was knocking at his lips earlier fully forms as he takes in the sight of you, “No no- you definitely need my help. I can’t offer the five-finger discount during business hours, but we can work something else out…” He responds smoothly before turning towards the stockroom, “Jimin-ah! Come out here and man the counter, I need to help out someone on the floor.”

A rush of disorganized blue hair comes striding out of the back, sporting an unamused pout on his pretty lips before grumbling,

“Make up your mind, Yoongi. I can’t keep abandoning my projects every time you want to help out a hot customer…”

You feel the back of your neck heat up at his co-workers honesty, a flash of excitement hitting the pit of your stomach.

Yoongi seems unbothered as he hops feet first over the counter, his clunky black boots thudding as they hit the carpet, “So do you have any specs in mind? Are you going to be using this for school, work, gaming…”

He jumps into his spiel immediately, not even bothering to respond to his co-worker as he leads you down the aisle full of laptops. They are set up amongst various props to mimic the illusion of them being used on a desk, the colors chosen complimenting the neon lighting above you.

“Well I’m a photography grad student at Blue Sky University- so something that can handle my editing software, something with good storage would be good too! Some of the bigger projects I do take up a lot of space…” You explain, strolling along beside him.

He nods for a moment before his brows raise at the mention of your university, “Blue Sky huh? Very nice…” He compliments, knowing full-well the kind of prestige your school holds. You bite your lip at his praise, never really knowing what to do when those kinds of comments are lofted your way, “Mac is usually the go-to for photo editors, but this Dell XPS 15 is pretty amazing too. Mac isn’t as compatible with other personal software, and it’s really overpriced.” He places a veiny hand on top of the screen of a black and rather sleek looking laptop, “It has an incredible 10 generation processor, and it will get you about 1TB of storage.”

You stand beside him, narrowing your eyes a bit as you take in the sight of the computer. Mindlessly you run your fingertips over the smooth tops of the black keys before responding, “This one is nice actually, a MacBook really isn’t in my budget, but all of my classmates swear by them…”

Yoongi jerks his chin towards you, “What kind of budget are you working with? The XPS is going to run you about 1,100 after tax- but I would argue that it’s worth the investment if you can do it. This computer is highly adaptable and comes with a lot of different specs and configuration options. Do you use photoshop?”

You’re nodding along with his explanation, trying to weigh out your options without wasting this man’s entire day, “I have a thousand set aside but I can be flexible, I just need something that’s going to work- oh! And something with good security…”

Yoongi smirks, “Why are you worried about getting hacked or something?”

Biting your lip, you shoot a wary look his way, “I meaaan, I kind of already did. I bought a used laptop off of reddit recently and it got a virus like- as soon as I started torrenting my software…”

Yoongi shakes his head and waves his hands out in front of him, “Whoa whoa whoa whoa. You bought a used laptop from where????”

His response makes you laugh, “Listen! I’m broke, ok? I did what I had to do…”

And now he’s laughing but he’s still shaking his head, wholeheartedly unimpressed, “Nahhh, I don’t give a shit if you’re broke. You’re better off printing out your pictures at Kinko’s or something and bringing them into class, like old school shit. Bugged laptops on Reddit are like one of the oldest scams in the book. Do you still have that computer?”

“Yeahhhh- why? Wait what do you mean? I thought they just sold me a shitty computer, I didn’t know it was part of a legitimate scam thingy.” You whine, looking rather helpless and rather adorable, according to Yoongi.

He chuckles, “Yeah it’s a huge data farming trend right now. The department of cyber security has been up Reddit’s ass for the last year trying to shut it down…how much did you pay?”

You cross your arms, feeling rather self-conscious all of the sudden, “It doesn’t matter- go back to telling me about the terabytes and specs or whatever…”

His chuckling turns sharply into cackling as he tilts his head at you, “Tell me. C’mon, I’ve fallen on hard times before and bought some questionable things from the internet, there’s no judgement here.”

Huffing you look up at him and try to ignore the way his eyes seem to sparkle in amusement, “I don’t know, like $300?”

Yoongi immediately purses his lips, trying to hold in his laughter for a moment before he fails miserably and starts it all up again, “You’re kidding, right? And you were surprised that you downloaded a virus? Things at Blue Sky must have really gone down hill…”

Rolling your eyes, you present a pout onto your lips as he continues to cackle at you, “Hey! You said there wouldn’t be any judgement…”

He shrugs, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “Well I was already in the middle of judging you so-“

“Okay you know what? I was desperate, and I did what needed to be done. Now that may have led me to owning a haunted computer, but I regret nothing…”

Yoongi is still snickering, entirely too tickled by your misfortune, “Haunted computer- you’re ridiculous.“ He repeats, shaking his head, “What kind of virus do you have, do you know? It’s probably some low-level amateur shit…”

The tone of his voice elicits a warmth in your belly that you haven’t felt in quite some time, and you’re trying not to get too excited about it, but the way his eyes keep lingering on your lips is making it difficult.

“It’s actually super weird, every time I open my browser it automatically takes me to some like luxury vacation website? That’s the only thing that will load on the computer now. I don’t know who they think I am, but if I’m buying a used computer from a Reddit forum like- obviously I don’t have vacation money…” You muse aloud, a laugh catching on the tail end of your sentence.

Yoongi’s brows furrow, “Do you remember what the site was called?”

“Uhhh-“ You try and wrack your brain, “I don’t know, something about fields of flowers or running through the flowers? Why?”

Thankfully, the name doesn’t ring a bell, but Yoongi is still uneasy by the answer.

It can’t be, he thinks, there’s no way.

Dollsen was locked away for another 3 years, and even if he was out, the government mandated that he would never be allowed to use technology unsupervised again.

“No reason, I was just trying to figure out if it was a malware I recognized…” He lies smoothly before patting the top of the laptop in front of him, “This will be a good option in terms of security, it comes with a year subscription to an anti-virus software, but I can write down some sites for you to download a better one. What are you thinking though, did you want to look at other models?”

Not really, I kinda want to keep talking to you all day if that’s cool…

“I’m thinking this is a good option.” You conclude, “I like the screen and the keys are pretty too- also it looks pretty sturdy so if someone were to hypothetically spill ranch in the keyboard, I feel like it could handle that…”

Yoongi chuckles, “I don’t fix ranch-related accidents, so you’d be shit out of luck if you tried to bring it back here…”

“I don’t know where you got the idea that it would be me spilling the ranch, I’ve definitely never done that before. Anyway!” You rush out before changing the subject, “I’ll take this one please. Thank you for your help.”

And he just kind of smirks at you, a mixture of annoyance and amusement written on his features before he flashes a pair of finger guns towards the storage room, “Alright, you got it. I’ll be right back with your new state of the art, ranch-proof, laptop. Meet me at the empty register on the left there…”

“Thank youuu,” You sing song as he makes his way towards their stock room. Navigating through the small crowd of people lingering at one of the displays, you do as Yoongi instructed and wait by the inactive register.

Yoong emerges with a white box in his arms moments later with a memory of a grin still on his heart shaped mouth. He seems to move very comfortably in the space he takes up, traversing around the store as if it’s the very empire he oversees. There is something about him that intrigues you, the oddity of him, the way he looks like he’s just stepped out of a graphic novel…

Maybe getting scammed on the internet isn’t so bad after all.

He huffs as he places the laptop on the counter, before his elegant fingers dance over the keypad on his register, the light from the screen illuminating his face.

“Okay so- we have the computer itself, it comes with a charging cable obviously and a few other accessories but if you need anything else, you know where to find them…” He explains, narrowing his eyes a bit as he looks over the price breakdown, “I wrote down some of those websites where you can get a better anti-virus software- oh! And…” He leans down and grabs a thin white plastic card with the Microsoft logo on it, “I’m throwing in a subscription to Microsoft Office too…”

“Wait isn’t that normally like $100? Aren’t you going to get in trouble for that?” You falter, looking at him expectantly.

He raises his brows playfully, “Are you gonna rat me out?”

“No,” You assure him, giggling as you feel your cheeks heating up once again, “I’m just making sure…”

“I give away free shit all the time…” He assures you with confidence, biting his lip when he hears you giggle, “Taking money from billionaires is my part-time job.”

“Amen to that,” You point at him, your eyes lingering on his teeth, “Well, thank you. I usually just torrent the software that I need, but I’m a little wary after what happened with Reddit.”

Yoongi clicks at his keyboard for awhile longer, lip still secured between his teeth whilst he shakes his head, “Torrenting is perfectly safe as long as you don’t get caught. The virus would have happened either way.”

Sighing, you lean against the counter and take a peek at your new computer, feeling a sense of accomplishment, “Well that makes me feel better- I should probably try to find a way to pay for the real thing though, the one I download always crashes on me…”

He doesn’t seem to be listening to you anymore, eyes still focused on his screen, his tone cool and detached as he asks, “What are you doing later?”

Excitement dances through you, “T-tonight? Uh I don’t think I have anyplanswhy?” Your tongue is tangled and Yoongi smirks as he hears the way your tone seems to falter.

“Come back at closing and I’ll hook you up.” He replies coolly, finally bringing his eyes back to yours.

Subconsciously, you stand up straighter, eyes sparkling with intrigue, “Really? How?”

He places his palms against the countertop and leans forward, still smirking, “I know my way around a computer…” He answers before chuckling, “Don’t worry about it, just come by and I’ll get you whatever you need.”

You cock your head, feigning suspicion, “You have ulterior motives…”

And this makes him cackle again, his hands moving from the counter and returning to the computer, “Nah, it’s nothing like that, I promise. I just would hate to see you spend so much money on this computer and then fuck it up with a shoddy download.”

With your lips twitching at the sound of his laughter, you finally allow the smile onto your mouth whilst you hand him your debit card, “What time should I come back?”

Yoongi’s grin broadens, “We close at 9:30, so anytime after that is good. I usually chill here for a while because the Wi-Fi at my apartment sucks.”

Your stomach churns in the face of his smile, the moisture from your mouth beginning to cease. The level of attraction you feel towards this man is insane…

But you pretend to mull it over once more, not wanting to seem too eager until finally you resign, “Alright fine- I’m not going to say no to free photoshop. Should I just come in through the front or?”

He nods, scanning over your receipt before handing it to you, “Yeah that works…” He replies, “…and it’s Y/N, right?”

You literally just saw him look at your receipt, but you still ask, “Wait how did you…”

Yoongi just raises his brows, a judgmental smirk on his lips.

“Right! Thanks Yoongi, I’llseeyouthen…” You rush out, forgoing anymore pleasantries (embarrassment) and rushing out the store.

The smirk remains on Yoongi’s lips long after you leave, and for the rest of the day, he glides through each task with the hopes that maybe he’ll get lucky tonight.

He doesn’t expect to, but he could tell you were feeling him, and he would be a liar if he said he didn’t think you were cute.

 Yoongi lets you back into Mikrokosmic Electronics at a quarter til 10, the neon lights still on and much more prominent than they were during the day.

Throughout the duration of the setup, he continues to flirt with you, his eyes continue to linger, and he continues to send butterflies to the pit of your stomach. He does something fancy with your laptop and then informs you that the download is likely to take about an hour and then he will be able to run another anti-viral test on it. The two of you resign to your phones rather quickly after the download begins, but every so often you can still feel his eyes on you. You have a feeling he isn’t going to put anything on the table, but after the stressful week of classes you had, you’re itching to distract yourself.

“What do you want to do until then?”

Yoongi’s lip twitch as he swivels to face you, his sly expression illuminated by the cerulean light, “We could make out…”

The damage to your heartbeat is immeasurable, the core of you immediately clenching around his suggestion as your sweaty palms grip the edge of the counter.

“Yeah- we could definitely do that…” You agree, your own mouth itching with excitement, “We should probably do that.”

Yoongi snickers at your correction, a bit of surprise in his gaze,  “Probably huh? Why is that?”

He’s playful but the way his eyes seem to brush up against every inch of your skin and the way the umber in them seems to burn before you, tells a different story.

You take a deep breath, “I mean you said you had an oral fixation right? That’s why you were chewing on the straw when I got here; Giving your mouth something to do might help the time pass- and it would like, you know, make you more comfortable.”

His chair squeaks as he stands, the cool and even length of him suddenly feeling much bigger. The slight smirk on his lips is permanent with only the small addition of his tongue caressing the bottom one.

“Do you lend your mouth to everyone that has an oral fixation or am I special?” His tone is shifting rapidly, oscillating between taunting and tentative.

Before you can even respond, Yoongi’s hips level with your kneecaps, his eyes still searching around for your answer.

Your cheeks are on fire as you feel the large expanse of his palms resting atop your thighs, his bitten nails brushing just below the hem of your skirt. You’re so distracted by your arousal that you don’t even realize you aren’t looking at him until you feel the gentle pressure on your limbs as he coaxes them apart.

Standing between your legs, the denim of Yoongi’s jeans scrapes against the inside of your knees, the sensation much more thrilling than it should be. And he smells incredible as well, like sandalwood and coffee, and you’re convinced he applied an aphrodisiac instead of cologne.

Finally, your eyes flicker back to his, only to find him smirking at you yet again.

As if he does anything else…

But you feel the need to be bold, desperately wanting to lean into your desires so you murmur, “No…you’re special.”

Yoongi takes that as his cue, his breath chasing after your own whilst he leans in to brush his lips against yours, chuckling darkly when he sees you shiver.

“You’re really fucking cute.” He rasps and then his lips tuck into yours.

Yoongi’s mouth is a contradiction, eagerly exploring the surface of your lips with his own, the blunt sting of his teeth pinching at you every so often all whilst his breathing seems to slow. His hands and head move at glacial speeds, head slowly pivoting on an axis to get a taste of all of you, as his hands brush up and down your bare thighs.

Your fingers find their own groove, sliding up either side of his slender neck, your fingertips playing with the hot pink tendrils of his hair, doing anything you can to elicit the same kind of obvious arousal you’ve already displayed.

But Yoongi doesn’t budge.

Instead, you feel him smirk against your lips when a soft whimper leaves your throat, the sound entirely caused by his decision to introduce his tongue into the mix.

His tongue is like candy, soft like cotton, and possessed by some dark spirit sent to destroy you.

He knows exactly how to taunt you, the tip of his muscle brushing against your own, but never allowing you to tangle with it for too long. Your eyes are closed but you can feel his hands searching for your waist. When they arrive at their destination, Yoongi uses his strength to urge you closer, your legs wrapping around his waist whilst he leans into you.

The black hair atop Yoongi’s head glides effortlessly through your fingers, the kiss growing messier and messier until you find your clothed pussy flush against the cool steel of his belt buckle.

You’re wet and desperately sensitive after making out with him, your lips disconnecting with a gasp.

Dark and delighted cackling leaves the confines of his seductive mouth, his eyes cast down for the moment before he looks up at you. And the urge to gasp again is hard to ignore as you see how much his gaze has changed.

He looks a bit haggard from the work you’ve done on his hair but more so than anything, he just looks hungry.

“Are you alright?” He inquires with a raise of his brows.

Through a deep breath, you nod, chewing on your bottom lip a bit as you try and hold his gaze.

“Yeah…sorry. I just-“

But the sensation of soft fingertips crawling up your inner thighs interrupts you along with Yoongi’s next question.

“Did I turn you on?”

Although the question is laced with some arrogance, Yoongi looks intrigued beyond belief, his head cocking to the side as he awaits your answer.

And what are you to say? No?

Are you going to look this man in the face and tell him that your panties aren’t sticking to your pussy right now? Glued to you by your own arousal?

“Mhm…” You hum, trying to relax as you lean in and kiss him again, summoning the bravery within you.

Yoongi feels his dick throb in his jeans at the sweet sound of your voice, and now he’s left wondering about all of the other sweet sounds you can make.

He lets you kiss him for the time being, but he withholds his tongue from you and merely pecks at your lips over and over again, soft laughter rumbling deep inside his chest as he feels you pout.

“Yoongi-“ You whine, your fingers pressing into the back of his neck.

And he merely hums, both lips attaching to your bottom one before using his teeth to pull it away from your mouth. He starts kissing down your chin as you speak next, his massive hands now sliding over your hips.

“What percentage is the download on?” He murmurs, still kissing and nibbling up the side of your neck.

You have difficulty focusing your vision with Yoongi’s lips dancing carelessly against your skin, but after a bit of effort, you’re able to make out the answer.

“67.” You answer, swallowing back a whimper when he bites down on the base of your neck.

You can feel him smile, fingertips teasing at the skin at the hem of your skirt once again, “67 huh? That’s a shame; I thought we had way more time.”

Like the punchline of a cruel joke, Yoongi pulls away from you, licking the taste of your skin from his lips before taking his hands from your thighs. Your skin is on fire in his absence, heated and agitated like a sunburn. Without any control, your lips part in disbelief when he tries to head back to your computer. Your hand is on his wrist then, your lips puckered all over again, and you can’t remember the last time you ever pouted for something in your adult life. 

“Wait-” You protest, with a wary look in your eye.

Like a cat in the face of his prey, the darkness in Yoongi’s eyes zeros in on your lips before feigning confusion, “Oh-” He mocks, “What are you pouting for?”

But you’re tired of feeling frozen beneath his attitude, so you act on your boldness quickly before it hides away again. 

“I thought we were going to-”

“What?” He cuts you off with a teasing grin, “Did you think I was going to fuck you?” 

Your heart jumps, “I don’t know- I just thought like, maybe you wanted to-

He grins at your stammering, eyes widening a bit to taunt you, “You did, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t- I dont know” You bite your lip, batting your eyes unintentionally, “I just didn’t want you to stop.” 

He hates to admit it, but your demeanor is affecting him, and it’s making the crotch of his jeans much tighter. 

“You didn’t want me to stop?” He practically coos, but the same level of mockery is still in his tone. His wrist is out of your hand now, his palms resting on your thighs once more as he slots himself between them. 

You shake your head, wrapping your legs around him, as the tips of your fingers find the pink strands of hair once again. “I like kissing you…”

Yoongi takes a deep breath through his nose, his lips still turned up at the corner before he chuckles, “Yeah?”  He lessens the gap between your mouths, leaning into you all over again, his eyes locking onto yours as his voice drops down to a whisper, “You want me to kiss you somewhere else?”  

Your panties are completely ruined at this point, and he hasn’t even touched you, but the sinful suggestion he makes only worsens the situation between your legs. 

Without an ounce of contemplation, you’re nodding in affirmation, your thighs parting subconsciously with your decision. The warmth and moisture coming from your core interacts abruptly with the cold air of the store, and the sensation makes you grit your teeth. 

You’re so sensitive. 

Yoongi wastes no time, his fingers finding their way underneath your skirt and under the band of your underwear. Slowly, and still making eye contact with you, he pulls them down your legs and allows them to drop to the floor. He eyes them for a moment, contemplating whether or not to clean them up before deciding to turn his attention back on you. With his index finger he lifts the bottom of your skirt up carefully, and you see the exact moment he makes eye contact with your pussy.

“Holy shit-” He chuckles, biting his bottom lip, “Messy messy girl...you got this wet just from kissing me?”

You nod immediately, opening up wider for him so that he can see all of you, “You’re a really good kisser.”

And fuck, it’s the way you giggle at the end of your sentence, the way your pussy literally glistens for him, the soft skin of your thighs, the breathy tone in your voice that is sending him into a frenzy.

But he keeps cool, wanting to set the pace, wanting to hear you whine some more. 

“You have no idea…” He warns you with a smirk, as he trails his fingers down your arm before gripping your hand, “ …I want you to touch yourself first though.”

Immediately, you tense up a bit, feeling nervous at the thought of pleasuring yourself in front of a complete stranger. Yoongi’s perceptive however, and catches on, kissing the back of your hand and then leading it to your aching pussy.

“It’s not a test.” He teases, “I just want to see what you like…” 

His comment makes you giggle, and you don’t even want to question why you feel so at ease with him, you just do. 

“I’d still like a grade afterwards though,” You insist with a grin, “I live for validation.”

Your hand is travelling every so shakily across the crease of your thigh as Yoongi’s eyes cling to the back of it like a hawk. With a quirk to his lips, he watches your fingertips move closer to your clit, his tongue brushing against his bottom lip subconsciously.

Wordlessly, he sinks to his knees before you, hands rested on your kneecaps as he aids them apart. Completely spread before him, you feel your heartrate wobble in your chest when he starts placing kisses up the length of your thigh.

Watching his warm lips sponge across your sensitive flesh whilst the cold metal from his jewelry follows in their path is enough to prompt your fingers to settle on your clit. Pleasure skyrockets up either side of your cunt, the pads of your digits working eagerly against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Yoongi’s eyes are still on your fingers, his lips working up one side of your thigh whilst his longer fingers tickle up the other. The cacophony of sensations is maddening, drawing you closer to an orgasm way too quickly.

A soft and breathy moan escapes your mouth, to which Yoongi responds by scoffing against your skin.

“You’re fucking hot.” He testifies, suddenly biting down on the meat of your leg, which only prompts another moan from you. Your throat is completely dry, but you try and swallow anyway as you increase the pressure on your clit. It’s sensitive, but it desires more, it’s hungry for a mouth it’s never even met yet.

But you’re watching him, watching the way his pink mouth puckers and sucks ever so slightly, watching the way his fingers tease and torment over your skin…

He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Back and forth?” He clarifies, flattening his tongue before licking right in the crease of your thigh, “Right on the top there?”

“Yes-“ You breathe, your fingers growing less and less capable the closer his lips get to your pussy.

“That’s how I should eat it?” He asks again through a knowing smirk, licking the crease on the other side.

“Yes.”

He snickers at the desperation in your voice, looking up at you through his lashes with his fingertips pressed against your inner thighs.

“Impatience will get you nowhere with me, sweetheart.” He drawls as his tongue suddenly finds its way to your entrance, he licks once, collecting a bit of your arousal before moving down further and licking right over the puckered ring of muscles.

Instantly you gasp, but you don’t even have time to process the new sensation because he’s drawing his wanton muscle from entrance to entrance, slurping salaciously as he does.

“Fuck…” You whisper, your toes curling painfully in your shoes as he repeats the same motion.

“I hate when dudes say that pussy tastes sweet…” He muses casually, despite his filthy actions, “Pussy tastes like pussy- that shit is one of a kind.”

His words do a number on you, but you are beginning to grow desperate at the thought of finishing yourself off before he has the chance to, so you stop for a moment and cup his face.

“Yoongi, I’m so-“

He interrupts you with a chuckle, “Yeah yeah I know- you want my tongue, just give me a second. I’m busy…”

His interruption infuriates you, but you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t drip at his tone of voice. And even if you wanted to lie, Yoongi already knows all about the way you’re dripping for him, as he’s licked up the length of you three more times.

“Just keep playing with that pretty clit of yours- I’ll be up in a moment.” He promises, and you know his tongue is going back down to your ass but you’re not expecting his fingers to start tickling down your thighs again.

He’s giving you goosebumps, your nipples aching in the cups of your bra, your vision grow hazier as the pleasure begins to interrupt your senses.

If regular communication isn’t piercing through Yoongi’s demeanor, then you figure you need to try a different angle.

“Oh fuck.” You’re whimpering again, “That feels so good.”

Yoongi’s eyes zero in on your face now, his dilated pupils peeking up at you through his fringe. You accept the challenge, staring down at him, admiring the way his nose is buried in the space just below your entrance, his tongue still lapping at your ass.

“I’ve never let anyone do this before…” The tone coming from your throat is sweet, feigning innocence but laced with very real pleasure, “You’re doing it so well- it’s making me so wet.”

For the first time, you hear him groan against you, his lips moving between your two holes and sucking gently at the flesh there.

“It’s so hard, Yoongi-“ You keen softly, pouting your lips, “None of those frat boys ever eat it right, it’s been so long since anyone has made me cum…”

And he’s had enough.

Practically growling the word, “Fuck.” The wet tip of his nose is nudging your hand away from your clit, replacing it with his soft tongue. Mewling, you immediately encase your neglected breasts in your palms, cursing the fabric that’s in the way. You jerk into his mouth, his capable tongue finding the spot you were rubbing at and applying the perfect amount of pressure. He’s puckering his lips, sucking gently at times, but keeping his tongue at the forefront of his motions.

“Ohmygod, fuck yes…”

Yoongi smirks at the sound of you moaning for him, his hands finding their way to the tops of your hips, securing them in place.

He’s riled you up so much, you know that you won’t last long, especially not with his expert mouth working you into a frenzy.

Yoongi plucks at your clit, sucking at it for a moment before pulling away slightly, “I bet your clit doesn’t throb for any of those frat boys, does it? They have no fucking clue how to get you there…”

Rapidly, you shake your head, the grip on your tits increasing as your hips begin rocking into his mouth.

“I’m really really close.” You’re pleading with him, and you have no idea why, “I’m so close, oh fuck I’msoclose…”

Yoongi grunts against your cunt, and you can’t even imagine the kind of mess you’ve made on the counter beneath you.

“Cum in my mouth then…” He orders with his tongue still on you, that same smug look in his eyes.

“Oh fuck – Oh fuck, oh fuck…fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…” You whimper, jerking away once before your hands tuck into Yoongi’s hair. Without thinking, you ride out your high against his mouth, grinding your clit up on his tongue, moaning wantonly all the while. Yoongi has to dig his nails into your hips to ground himself, the sounds leaving your lips travelling straight to his dick and presenting the very real possibility of him nutting in his pants.

“Yoongiiii-“ You shudder as he keeps licking at you whilst your high is subsiding.

But he can’t stop at the moment, his tongue slipping into every dripping fold you have, collecting all of the cum you gave him.

“I��m making you cum again…” He vows, biting the top of your pussy before going right back to your clit.

Despite the sensitivity you feel, you are fully willing to push through the overstimulation for another orgasm like the one you just had.

But your laptop has other plans…

“Download complete.” A monotone voice drones on the other end of the counter, startling you.

“Fuck-“ Yoongi groans as he pulls away from you, his mouth soaking wet.

“Just ignore it, we’ll get it in a second.”

Yoongi smirks proudly as he stands up, licking over his lips once before shaking his head, “No I have to enter a few codes to optimize it and its on a timer.”

His hair is a disheveled mess on his head, but he doesn’t bother fixing it as he strolls over to your laptop. Its then that you can notice the sizeable bulge in his jeans. The fabric is warped around his erection, the predicament looking almost painful, and suddenly your concern shifts rapidly.

For the time being, you just watch him as he sits down at his desk chair, you take a bit of pride in the way his fingers shake as they move over the keyboard, but the movements of his mouth do something else entirely.

Mindlessly and glowing from the light on your screen, Yoongi licks at his lips, sucking off all of your cum and humming to himself as he does. You can tell he is trying to ignore the painful throbbing of his cock by the way he shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

And not to add insult to injury but…

“Yoongi?” You call softly, your voice slurring a bit, still recovering from your orgasm.

“Hm?” He hums, still focusing on the task at hand.

“When you’re done, will you put your dick in my mouth?”

Instantly, you can hear the sound of his typing size, his fingers now hesitating on the keyboard as a devious grin crawls on his mouth.

“Come here…”

Moments later, his jeans and boxers are around his ankles, as your lips kiss up the throbbing length of him. His cock jumps with excitement as you near the tip, your tongue following suit to clean up the bit of precum that has collected. Yoongi’s chest is rising steadily and other than the way his dick is reacting to your motions, you’d have no other way of knowing that he was turned on. 

But you can feel his eyes on you, watching your every move, trying to anticipate the next one, and hoping that you’ll put on a good show for him. 

And you do not disappoint. 

You over exagger+ate slightly, hollowing your cheeks out as you suck up the length of him, allowing your tongue to tease at his weaping slit. Yoongi’s nostrils flare with the force of his breath then, his stomach caving in under the privacy of his t-shirt as you begin a rhythm on him. At the moment, his hands are hanging at his side, his silence penetrating the air as you suck on him like a woman starved. His lack of sounds is starting to unnerve you, so you allow your eyes to flit to him, only to be met with the same irresistible smirk he’s been wearing all day. 

“Jesus-” He grunts, chuckling a bit as you increase your pace on him, “You’ve got some fucking mouth on you.”

His praise fuels the fire deep in your belly as your hand comes up to assist your mouth, the two of them working together in tandem. Yoongi arches his hips, trying his best to stay in the heavenly confines of you. He doesn’t think he’s ever had head this good, and after eating you out, he’s beginning to dread how quickly he wants to cum. 

“Do you suck dick this good at the frat house?” He goads, his voice getting raspy, “Or do you just really like the way I taste?” 

You stroke him as you pull off for a moment, giggling at his comment and positioning your tongue at his tip, “Bold of you to assume I suck dick there at all.”

He huffs out a bit of laughter which dies rather quickly when you trace the edges of his frenulum with your tongue. He doesn’t respond to you and instead allows his hands to push up his t-shirt, exposing the creamy skin of his stomach. You slide your mouth right back on him, your pussy clenching at the site of Yoongi’s happy trail, wishing desperately that he had been less eager and allowed you to kiss and tease all over his body. 

His fingertips find his pert nipples, brushing over the tops of them and sending a shiver down his spine. His lips are parted in a type of awe as he stares down at you, the sensations on his dick coupled with him tugging at his nipples nearly too much to handle, and so starts the arousal-driven truth serum.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had my dick sucked this good…” He breathes out a shaky laugh, back arching a bit as he continues playing with the sensitive buds atop his chest. 

But you merely stare back at him, allowing the glint in your eye to form as you squeeze at his base and work your hand back up towards your lips.

Yoongi’s eyes don’t leave yours as he continues, shaking his head in disbelief, “You put on such a good show too- I’m up here like-“ Shaky laugh, pinch, eyes lulling, “reconsidering my premium porn subscriptions and shit. Who needs that when I can just watch your pretty fucking mouth on my dick?”

To drive his point home, you suck all the way up to the tip again, brushing your lips against it as you murmur, “You wanna film me?”

Yoongi’s eyes light up and seconds later, his shaky fingers are pressing record on his cell phone, doing his best to focus the camera on you.

You keep at it, staring wide eyed into his camera and whimpering softly around his cock, wanting to perform for him.

“Fuck- that’s it…there you go…” He grunts, his hips starting to rock up between your lips, “You like having a dick in your mouth don’t you?”

Nodding enthusiastically, you increase your pace even more, his lithe body now moving with the force of it. Yoongi’s eyes are on you through the lens of his phone, and he knows that this video is going to be a mess, but he doesn’t give a fuck.

He’s going to put it to good use anyway.

“Tell the camera how much you like it…” He rasps, the edges of his vision starting to go, his hips raising off of the chair.

You come up off of him again, drooling at the top him and grinning happily at his phone, “I like having your cock in my mouth-“ You correct, licking over his slit, “-you taste so good, I want more, I want you to cum.”

Yoongi moans softly, sitting up in the chair a bit so he has a better view of you, “Yeah? You want me to cum in your mouth?”

“Yes please…” You giggle, kissing the head of his cock before taking him down your throat again.

His whole body shudders when he gives you what you ask for, and Yoongi actually worries about the intensity of it. He’s had some good orgasms sure, but never one that’s fucked with his vision…

You suck off of him as he finishes, showing off his load to the camera before making a show of swallowing it all done.

“Holy shit, where the hell did you come from?” He laughs, his voice completely shot as he slumps against the chair.

You find your way up to his mouth to kiss him again, and he responds lazily, but you can feel him grinning towards the end of it.

Eventually, your soiled panties find their way underneath your skirt and Yoongi’s pants find their way up his legs. He finishes up what he’s doing on your computer, the two of you easily settling into small talk when Yoongi begins wrapping up.

He hands you your laptop box, “You should be good. I checked out the security system like I said earlier and everything is fairly airtight. But make sure you bring it back to me as soon as you see anything weird.”

Your balance and grip are not in the best shape after the events that have just transpired between the two of you, but you thank him and slip out of the door he holds open into the cool evening air. Yoongi’s keys clink against the door handle as he locks up, peeking inside momentarily to make sure the alarm light was set.

The two of you kinda linger as he turns back to you, his eyes holding that familiar glint, “So uh- this was fun.” His laugh is a little off, but you find it kind of cute as he shifts his weight from one side to the other.

“Very fun.” You agree, giggling.

Yoongi grins at the sound of your laughter, “Well, if you ever want to have some more fun, you know where to find me.”

You mirror his grin, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He chuckles before nodding in understanding, leaning to the side a bit before jerking his chin behind you, “Do you need a ride home or is that your car?”

“Oh! Yeah-“ You remember, pulling your keys out of your purse, “-that’s me. What about you? Where are you parked?”

He points to the black sedan parked across the street, “That’s me over there.” He kind of stands there for a bit longer before leaning in and pecking your lips, “Get home safe alright? I’ll see you around.” You feel a little woozy as he leaves your lips, unable to contain your own dazed smile as he heads over to his car.

“You too!” You call out to him when he’s put some distance between you and gives you a short wave in return.

The two of you go your separate ways, and each of you are left with lingering thoughts of one another. For you, this is perfectly reasonable.

You met a hot guy, you had insane chemistry, you gave each other amazing orgasms…voila, you think about said hot guy. The occupancy Yoongi has in your brain is comfortable, it makes you feel giddy and excited at the thought of getting to see him again. You don’t think you’re looking for anything serious, but you’re definitely looking for more of whatever that was. You smile like an idiot all the way home.

Yoongi, however, has an entirely different experience. Sure he’s used to smirking to himself after hooking up with a hot girl, he’s used to feel satisfied and confident, he’s used to filing away certain moments to jerk off to later but-

He is not used to whatever he’s feeling right now.

He’s thinking about you specifically. Your breathy moans, your body, the way you fell apart on his tongue, the way you sucked him off…

He’s thinking about your lips, your eyes, your face, your laugh…

And that’s never a good sign.

So he brushes it off.

He goes back to the filthy moments and reminds himself that he captured a pretty amazing video that he will be jacking off to for the foreseeable future.

You were pretty incredible, weren’t you?

Yoongi stumbles into his apartment, his combat boot catching on the door frame as he flicks the light switch one.

He’s exhausted and doesn’t even bother washing up before crashing into bed in just his boxers. He’s pulled his phone out of his pocket and plugged it in, setting it face up on the nightstand.

He turns on the TV and as his switching over to Netflix, a text message from the literal last person on Earth that he wants to hear from pops up on his screen.

Special Agent Kim: Ken is leaving the Dreamhouse

Special Agent Kim: We need to talk.

Fuck.

[guqin-and-flute]

[Modern 3zun Raising Jingyi Au] 

[fueled entirely by @little-smartass‘s 👀 on my first chicken post]

Squa-HAAWWWK! Squank! Squonk! Squonk! Squa-HAAAAAAWK!

“I’m going to have a fucking aneurysm,” Mingjue growled, grinding his thumb into his temple, leaning heavily on the handle of the shopping cart where A-Fu was beating the rubber chicken with the determination of someone completing a decades long plot of revenge. 

Every once in a while, he stopped to throttle it, producing a horrifically loud death wail. Squa-HAAAAAWK!

Xichen shot him a gently reproachful look from scanning the sugar content of the 2 cartoon-festooned cereal boxes in his hands. “Language.”

Squank!

“He’s one."

Squonk squonk!

“Some studies show that children can begin to understand what we say as young as six months,” Xichen warned, then sighed. “Should we get him the one with the marshmallows in it? He loved it when A-Yu babysat but it has so much sugar....”

SQUARNK--AHHHHH! 

A-Fu gave a hearty toddler chortle, kicking his feet up against A-Yao’s side where he stood right next to Mingjue and the din, seeming completely unaffected as he studied his phone. 

SQUAKSQUAKSQUAK--HAAAAAAWK! 

Mingjue stared at the horrible little face the chicken was made with. It looked shocked--like someone had jabbed it with a taser--and somehow, it’s stupid expression made the awful shrieks just that much worse. 

A-Yao looked up at the rabbit on the cereal box in front of him and asked in a faraway voice, “When did I become a suburban mother?” 

“Demonstrably, you are not,” Xichen said in a vague, placating tone, then continued under his breath. “27 grams....that’s practically obscene....”

“When did I start caring what BPA is and what has it?”

Squank! Squinky-squank!

“Technically this is a suburb,” Mingjue muttered, eyes following the trajectory of the chicken’s awful little head with his eyes as his son leaned over to beat it against the shelf. 

Squonk! Squonk! Squonk!

“I have a Target card and I own an ergonomic papoose whose instructions were originally in Swedish.” A-Yao had not moved, staring at the the rabbit mascot as if it had said something distasteful and perplexing. “How did this happen?”

SQU--

“I’m going to throw that thing,” Mingjue warned as A-Fu gleefully squeezed all the air out of its plastic gut, getting ready to let loose another wail of chicken-ish agony.

Abruptly, A-Yao turned and stuck his finger into the chicken’s open mouth with a wide, indulgent grin, muffling the scream to a whine. “Awww Fufu, chicky needs to go nigh-nigh. Nigh-nigh chicky! Oh, yes, there he goes, sleepy sleepy, under the blankets.” In an adept sleight of hand, the chicken went under the pile of shorts in the cart, over to his other hand, and around to the small of his back where Mingjue plucked it from his grip in passing, like an awful yellow football. 

The fussing was revving up behind him when he left the aisle to toss it onto an endcap, but had been miraculously stymied by A-Yao producing some sort of stretchy, antennaed ball in its absence. It was quiet, so that’s all Mingjue could ask for, honestly. His son squashed it and shook it and all that happened was brightly colored lights flashing inside. Silent. Heaven.

"Why did you give that to him in the first place? What were you thinking?”

“You didn’t just shove it somewhere, did you?” A-Yao scrunched his nose up at him, absently petting over A-Fu’s baby fluff.

“I’m not chauffeuring the goddamn chicken back home.”

A-Yao rolled his eyes and went back to his phone, leaning on the handlebar and cocking his hip out. “Never worked retail a day in your life,” he muttered, one eyebrow raised, lips pursed.

Xichen came up and tucked the sugary cereal next to the stack of teething biscuits, reaching out to squeeze both their shoulder’s. “Chicken crisis averted--produce next, please.”

“Thank god,” Mingjue huffed, wheeling the cart around. “So we’re getting the cereal after all? Teething biscuits seem redundant if we’re letting his teeth rot out of his head at the same rate he gets them,” Mingjue pointed, amused.

Xichen merely shook his head with great dignity. “It’s a treat. He’s allowed a treat. We are very careful when we brush our teeth.”

“Sure, sure. Working very hard to justify it,” he added with a grin.

“Don’t tease Er-ge, he’ll feel guilty,” A-Yao scolded absently, even as Xichen looked back down at the box.

En route, he convinced Xichen he was kidding and wrestled the ball away from A-Fu, smushing it against various parts of his face, making him laugh uproariously enough that a nice grandma cooed over his antics next to the squash. When they reached their destination, A-Fu wriggled and reached to be lifted, so A-Yao hefted him onto his hip and listened to him babble seriously about something none of them could yet understand with an indulgent smile. “Ah, I see... Oh, really? Mm, fascinating!”

“I’m culling the toy collection of squeakers,” Mingjue muttered darkly at Xichen under this cute patter, leaning down to put his chin on his shoulder. 

Xichen smiled, a little rueful. “Good luck. I don’t think even I know the extent of his toy collection, and I clean them up daily. I don’t even hear them anymore--they’re like background radiation.”

“Er-ge has been deafened to the particular squeaky toy frequency. It only took him hearing them 12 hours a day for a year, so it’s perfectly achievable. If you start now, you might even make it before he loses interest in them entirely,” A-Yao said dryly over his shoulder from where he and A-Fu were intently inspecting tomatoes.

“Ha. And what about you? You hate inane children’s toys. How are you not on my side?”

“Oh, I’m immune to this particular chicken.”

“How on earth does that work?”

He was given a knowing smirk. “Like I said; you’ve never worked retail a day in your life.” 

[jadelynlace]

Ink Drinker⎮Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader] Masterpost

synopsis: No strings attached is never what it seems. Ivar was only supposed to be a friend with benefits, but he caught feelings for his brother’s friend and co-worker: you.

pairing: Tattoo Artist Modern Ivar x Reader

content warning(s): This is basically porn with very little plot. Content warnings will be tagged for each chapter/piece specifically.

☞ Start Here │ Chapters: ☜ chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four / chapter five / chapter six / chapter seven / chapter eight / chapter nine / chapter ten / chapter eleven / chapter twelve / chapter thirteen / chapter fourteen /

More:

Their Instagrams

Visual Timeline

Extras:

Ivar’s Sexuality & Additional Information 

Ink Ivar’s Aesthetics Tag

moodboards for Ivar / text conversations / younger Ivar vs. present day Ivar / [incorrect] quotes: Ivar & Hvitserk / [incorrect] quotes: Ivar / ABC’s of Ivar NSFW & SFW / a thought / betting tattoos / their first language / when you two buy a house / random HC’s [SFW & NSFW] / more random HC’s [SFW & NSFW] / random comical conversations / Ivar & Pregnancy/Parenthood HC’s / additional Ivar HC’s / even more HC’s / holiday HC’s / Aiden HC’s / Ivar & His Baby / Helping You Put Lotion On / Ivar & Travel HC’s / Driving / 

Requests:

request #1: Early morning sex / request #2: Hvitserk’s first tattoo / request #3: Ivar drawing you / request #4: Ivar’s & his uniform kink / request #5: Sex in the dark / request: #6 Shut up, Hvitserk / request #7: Ivar and Children Part I / Ivar and Children Part II / request #8: Drunk Ivar & Reader / request #9: Ivar taking care of you when you’re not feeling your best & part two / request #10: Ivar designing your first tattoo / request #11: The first time part one / the first time part two / request #12: Surprises / request #13: Ivar seeing reader on the job / request #14: photo updates / request #15: pregnancy & birth / request #16: nightmares / request #17: stay still / request #18: higher libido during pregnancy / request #19: “she got him all wrong” / request #20: Ivar fighting your insecurities / request #21: 69-ing / request #22: sleepy morning sex / request #23: Ivar’s breeding kink /  request #24: “You’re in love with her” / “I just need to build up trust when it comes to love” / “I’m going to marry you one day” / “I know I fucked up” / “It’s 4am, how are you still horny?” / Taking a bath together / 

NSFW Prompts:

Ivar says please / Sending nudes to Ivar and how he responds / Wrestling turns to sex / Making you whimper / To skinny dip / Revenge on an ex with sex / Angry sex & sex to forget / Say my name / When you need to see Ivar again / Multiple orgasms / When Ivar’s been waiting all day / Ivar Seeing You Naked / Keeping Secrets / 

NSFW HC’s: shower sex / Hvitserk’s kitchen table / leather / butt play / french kissing / pegging / curvy body worship / 

NSFW / Smut Dialogue and Prompts:

“Are you holding back? Don’t.” / “You know I’m holding back from fucking you over this kitchen counter, don’t push your luck.” / “Suck on my fingers.” & “No one has ever touched me like that, fuck.” / “Show me how much you missed me,” / 

Peachyboneless’s 100 Follower Celebration:

Smut Prompts 

Deleted Scenes & Blurbs:

Ivar’s Sexuality / Ivar x Aiden [M/M] / Smut Blurb / When You and Ivar Start Trying For A Baby / The Time You and Ivar Were Almost Caught / When Ivar Visits the Station / When Ivar Needs Help / First Time Post Baby & Parenting Mishaps / When Ivar Finally Sees What You Saw / How You and Ivar Really Met / How Ivar and Aiden Met / A Chat / When Ivar Can’t Hold Back / When You Can’t Hold Back / The Rain / Sneaking Away [NSFW] / Payback / Night Out [NSFW] / Taking Ivar Home / Alternate Scene: New Year’s Eve / Your Uniform [NSFW] / Ivar Learning His Worth / NSFW Blurb / Don’t Bleed On Those Who Did Not Cut You / Powerlifting & Choking Ivar [NSFW] / Home Improvements / The Three Some: Ivar & Aiden (Preview) / When You and Ivar Have A Fight / Getting Your Ring Size / Seeing You With A Baby [NSFW] / Bar Bathroom [NSFW] / Handcuffing [NSFW] / Quick Chat / Ivar and Children Part Three / Small Thought / A Slice of Lime / Learning to Walk Again / Full Term / All the Time /

Ink Drinker “Talks”:

remembering a fact about Ivar / buying things that remind them of you / getting them out of an uncomfortable situation / 

Visual Shenanigans: Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven (Ivar’s Tattoos) / Valentine’s Day / Ivar’s Wedding Ring / 

Asked & Answered: First Date / When Ivar Knew He Caught Feelings / First BJ / Teasing Ivar / Floki’s First Impression / Ivar’s Past / Hvitserk’s Past / Ivar’s Thoughts On Family / Who Is Ivar? / Ivar’s Love Language / Some Hvitserk HCs / Hvitserk & Ivar As Twins / Ivar in the Hospital / Music & Dancing / Ivar’s First Time / Questions about Ivar / Floki’s Kid’s and Ivar After His Accident / What Floki Did After Hearing About the Crash / Brief Timeline Of Ivar’s Recovery / Role Play? / From Meeting to the First Time / Where Does Ink Drinker Take Place? / Pegging Ivar? / His ex, Freydis / Ivar and Math / Does Ivar Sing? / More About Freydis & Dancing & Odd Fears / Would He Cut His Hair? / Boob Man? Ass Man? / Ivar’s Insecurities / How Many Kids? / Ink Ivar, The DILF / Ivar Getting Jealous? / Naming His Kids / When His Son Draws On Himself / Ivar and Aiden and the Kids / Sensitive Ivar / Sarcastic Conversations (With Ragnar) / Ivar: Cut, or Uncut? / Ragnar / Cockwarming / Ivar’s Size / Waking You Up With Oral / Ivar & A Mistletoe / Calling Him Daddy / Celebrating the Holiday (Secretly) / When You Feel Under the Weather During the Holidays / Ivar Coming in Your Mouth / Ivar & Coming HC’s / Ink Ivar Comes A Lot / Ivar & Aftercare / First Kiss / Romantic Things Ivar Does / Ivar Making You Squirt / Chats with Aiden / Ivar’s Sleep Habits / Did You Have Doubts About Ivar Early On? / Did the Other Brothers Have A Chance? / A Playlist? / Ivar in Norway / Has Ivar Dyed His Hair? / Ivar and His Days Off / When Ivar Finds Out He’s The Only Guy Who Has Made You Come / Ivar & Powerlifting / Ivar’s Partners / Ivar & Dad Jokes / Tattoos & Lotion / Ivar’s Wedding Ring / Ivar & Animals / Summer Time Asks / Misc. / Baby Shower & Gifts / Skin Picking / Aiden’s Reaction to the Accident / Ivar Painting Your Nails / Ivar As Your Protector / Halloween / When You’re Sick / When You’re Anxious / 

Miscellaneous Content: one / two / three / four / five / 

More Moodboards: one / two / NSFW moodboard / three / four: Ivar’s day / 

Things From Mutuals: ( always ongoing ):

Moodboard by @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

Drawing by @prepare4trouble

Moodboards by @quantumlocked310​

Ivar’s Song by @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog​

Drawings by @still-functioning​

[nn1895]

AU August Fic 17

Annoying Neighbor

Warnings: grief, recovery from a severe injury, death of a loved one, ableism (?)

Prowl had concocted the perfect plan of revenge.  It had eleven steps and was guaranteed to succeed.  Then he’d logged onto Electronics Planet-Wide to purchase micro-motors and industrial adhesive and The Morally Correct Decision was on sale instead.

It had started six weeks ago when his new neighbor had moved in.

Prowl had caught sight of him from a window the day he’d moved in.  Being the vigilant, concerned Enforcer that he had been, he shifted his chair slightly to one side and watched him.

(It was not spying.)

He was easy to peg - flashy expensive paint, very trendy color changing visor, and smooth curves from helm to pede.  Beside him was a music case - which meant he was a Serious Musician and not a dabbler like Nightbeat.  Serious Musicians insisted on having their weapons - instruments with them at all times.  They babied the bits of string and metal like real sparklings and ordered everyone around them about.  It was all done in service to ‘The Music’ or ‘The Muse’ depending on how pretentious they were.

Prowl may have been asked to do protection detail for one too many ‘artists’ when he’d been a patrol bot.

As he’d watched  a trio of mismatched trucks had pulled up and more bots had hopped out and started unloading.  Obviously not a hired company.  Friends from the way they greeted his new neighbor.

Prowl had been deciding if he should start running the plates or not when something heavy slammed into his front door.

The fraggers!

Prowl rushed to the door, dragging himself along by the back of his couch and the edge of the table.

He slammed his fist on the panel and the door slid open to the sight of two femme with sparkly pink and green paint trying to manuver a box that was at least five inches too long to fit through the doorway from the hallway.

“What do you think you are doing?!” he yelled.  The two femmes jumped and dropped the box.  “If you’ve damaged anything -!”

Prowl heard running pedes and turned to see the musician jogging over.  He came to a stop and put a servo on the box.

“Sorry, sorry, mech,” the musician said.  He sounded tired.  Probably partying all night with beautiful bots on either arm.  “We’ll try to keep it -” The mech’s optics looked down and caught sight of Prowl’s-  Now he looked sympathetic and Prowl hated it.

“If you are so incompetent and stupid to try and fit that up here, I won’t count on it!” he growled.  There, now he looked angry.  Better.

“Whatever, mech,” the musician said, waving a servo and turning away.  He grabbed one end of the box and the femmes took the other.  Prowl watched them struggle with it for a few more minutes and then closed his door.

There.  His neighbor would have no reason to bother him.

Prowl limped over to a chair and slowly lowered himself down.  He looked around at this meticulously clean habsuite.  Everything matched.  Everything was in order.

It might be his prison, but it was still his.

0-0-0

That night the music started.  At first Prowl had written it off as the Great Musician trying to announce his presence.

The second night it happened again.  Then the third night. 

By the second week, Prowl was already plotting destruction.

It wasn’t even a song - not really.  He’d tried to find any pattern, but it was just an odd collection of notes, strummed at odd times, as if the musician was playing half in his processor and half in the real world.

(It gave him something to blame the insomnia on at least.)

It was nearly morning and The Musician still hadn’t stopped.  Prowl had given up on recharge hours ago and was trying to at least read a datapad.

He started to press himself deeper into his favorite chair - the way he had since he was a youngling - to feel the thick foam curl up around him and the tension in his legs and hips stretch sleepy cables and sensors.

His fake pedes slipped.  Without sensors or the instant control of his processor, he couldn’t get enough traction and he slipped out of the chair and onto the floor with a thump.  

He’d done some physical therapy and training just after the - just after.  They covered the basics of standing, walking, and getting up.  His medics had warned him that there would be some things he would never do.  They’d warned him that too much repeated strain on his healing stubs would cause damage and had advised him to break the habit.

Prowl crawled across the floor and into his berth.  The strange music notes tapped on their shared wall as he waited for the rage to stop shaking him.

0-0-0

“This is Knock-about, signing off for the night!”

Prowl itched to respond, to correct him, to tell him that was not the proper way to -

But he couldn’t.  As far as anyone was concerned, Prowl had left his enforcer’s comm chip once he was put on leave.  They had neglected to check if anyone else’s comm chip got ‘misplaced.’

He couldn’t risk plugging it into his frame and alerting them, so he’d hooked it up to a radio speaker.  With no transmitter, despite how much he was tempted, he couldn’t talk to them.

He wanted to tell Nightbeat to stop shilling his new mystery novel and investigate the west dock more thoroughly.  He wanted to tell Chase he was doing an amazing job with the Balljoint case.  He needed to tell Strongarm she was being an idiot about the report format.

Prowl looked out the window and down into the street.  If he had his times right then - there!

A fluorescent blue and yellow two wheeled altform was zipping down the road - Knock-about.  Prowl raised a servo even though the mech wouldn’t see him so high up.

Be safe, he thought, watching until he was gone from view.

“This is Unit 994, I need some backup for a -”

There was a knock at the door.  Prowl leaned forwards and flicked off the radio. He brought up the door camera on his HUD and -

Ugh.  His Building Manager.  Prowl pinged the door to slide open and there stood Alchemy, shinier than a racer, dumber than a senator.  More annoying than a medic.

“Good evening!  I hope I’m not interrupting?”  Prowl heard him add the ‘my dear’ in his processor.  He hadn’t done it out loud since Prowl had blown up on him that first week.  Progress at least.

“What do you want, Alchemy,” Prowl grunted and turned his chair away from him.  He wanted to watch Chase make it home at least and his shift should be ending any klik now.

“It’s going to be a lovely day tomorrow!  I’m going to walk down to the street market and pick up some sweets - do you want anything?”  Alchemy took a few steps into the room and put on a winning smile.

Prowl glared harder and didn’t answer.

“Maybe you’d like some fresh crystals to brighten the place up?” he offered, his smile stretching his face almost painfully.

“No.”

“A cup of warm candied energon?”

“No.”

“We could -”

“No.”

“Go away,” Prowl snarled.  Any minute now -

“No,” Alchemy said, crossing his arms.  He sat down defiantly on the couch.  “You can’t lock yourself up in here like this Prowl.”

Prowl turned slowly, his spark tight and huge in his chest.

(He wasn’t used to being scared.)

“Go.”

“I’m not leaving here until you agree to do something besides sit in that slagging chair and stare out the window.  It’s weird.  It’s not healthy.”

“Leave.  Now.”  Prowl could feel his voice trembling slightly.  He was - he was going to lose it.  The medic had called it a panic attack.  Prowl just hoped this one was one of the ones where he got violent.  He was going to wipe that smile away.

(He hated the panic attacks.)

“I’m not leaving and you can’t make me,” Alchemy said primly.

“No,” Prowl said quietly.  “I can’t.”

For a moment Alechemy looked pleased.  Then, Prowl watched the realization come over him like the shadow of a moon.  

“No - I mean.”  He stood quickly.  “I didn’t mean - I’ll go.  Sorry!  I’m sorry, Prowl, I’ll just -”

The door thudded closed.

He’d missed Chase driving home.  He hadn’t told him to be safe.

0-0-0

The true horror of the week was when the Musician Himself came to visit again.

Prowl was in the process of re-sanding his tabletop because the slate blue didn’t match the trim as well as he’d thought.  After a very heated conversation with the local paint store and one drone-delivered can later, he was finally re-doing it.

The knock was another annoying tune - up-up-down - and he didn’t bother getting up.  It came again.  

(Leave.)

“Hello?”

Scrap.  Slag it all to hell.  Prowl lifted himself into the chair and ping it to open. 

The musician still looked tired, but he was smiling.  Prowl glared back.  He stepped inside and the door closed behind him.

He was beautiful.  He was clearly built for performances - simple, bright paint and accents, strong hips and shoulders for stunts, delicate pedes and ankles for dancing -

Prowl didn’t think about his chipping paint (couldn’t get to the detailer’s) or his (don’t think about it).

“Hello,” the mech said, his voice surprisingly rough, “we’re neighbors and I’ve been wanting to introduce myself.  I’m Jazz.  Jus’ moved here from Polyhex.”  Yes, Prowl recognized the accent now.

“Do you need anything?” Prowl bit out, digits curling into the arms of his chair.  

“I jus’ think we got off on the wrong -” panic stole over the mech’s face as he changed his words.  “I think mebbe we started wrong, so I wanted ta introduce myself and find out a bit more about ya.”

Prowl said nothing, letting the silence stretch.  On the other side of the room, Jazz fidgeted.

“I’m a musician?  Do you like music?  I see ya got a radio -”

“No.”

(Don’t look!  That’s private.)

“No…ya don’t?  Ah, ‘kay.”  He looked down at the tarp and the sandpaper.  “Oh!  Are ya doin’ some renovatin’?  I did a bit wit’ my - my family when I was a bitlet.  I could -”

“I do not need help.”  That was sharper than he’d intended, but if it got him to leave -

The mech flinched.

(Sorry.  Sorry!)

“Well, even if ya don’ need help, if ya jus’ want somebot ta keep ya company.  Ya can always call, I’m not doin’ much these days… If - if ya need anything -”

Need anything from a healthy, whole-framed musician who was probably just getting home from a party or the racetrack or a lover’s house?  Ha.

“I won’t.  Good-bye.”

The door closed and Prowl was shaking.  He vented.  He wrapped a blanket around himself.  He counted ceiling tiles and sparkbeats and colors.

0-0-0

So Prowl planned out the Perfect Revenge.  He made sure it was untraceable, that no one would get hurt, and hoped it would be enough to drive the mech away.  There would be lights, confetti, and minor damage to the doorframe.

He logged onto the site to buy the last thing he needed when a pop-up ad filled the screen.

External Helmphones!  29.99!  Block out noise without mods!  Play your favorite tunes!

Prowl had gone to exit out of the pop-up when he’d hesitated.  Only bots like The Musician and constructionbots had internal control of their audials - increasing and decreasing their sensitivity.  If he could just block out the noise…

He wasn’t sure why the noise bothered him so much.

(That was a lie)

Maybe for many reasons.  

It kept him up.

(Lie.)

It was all nonsense sounds and that irritated his tactical computer.

(Lie.)

He needed the quiet to concentrate.

(Lie.)

It…was a reminder that there were people outside these walls.

(...)

He added them to cart, checked out, and closed out of the site entirely to remove temptation.  

He was going to be a ‘good person.’

Slaggit.

0-0-0

Prowl waffled for the next few days between being glad he’d decided to just order the helmphones and wishing he’d bought the industrial adhesive at least so he could glue the Musician to the ceiling.

He had realized after he’d repainted the table that it was not the exact match he’d intended and so he was now repainting the shelving to match.

Primus, he was tired of this.  Even the paint dealer had thought it was weird, getting mad about a .023 difference.  But once it was finished he could -

(Why was he doing this?)

He was making good progress on the shelves.  He’d probably be finished in time to listen to Chase and Knock-about use the comms for their lunch orders. He’d told them many times not too, but since it was a closed circuit between just his team…

The delivery company pinged him that his package was at his door.  Finally!

Prowl closed the paint can - he’d learned his lesson - and rolled onto his knees.  He shuffled to the chair.

(Thank goodness no one could see him.)

He heaved himself up and walked (stumbled) towards the door, gripping the edge of the furniture.

(He’d lined it up like this so he didn’t have to use -)

By the time he reached the front door he was panting.  He waited a moment for his venting to slow and the heat in his helm and thighs to dissipate.  Then he opened the door.

No package.

Prowl cycled his optics.  Where - ?

He looked right and there was his package, box loudly proclaiming it contain the planet’s the best helmphones, in front of the Musician’s door.

Prowl growled.  If he used the wall and went slow, he should be able to make it and pick up the box.  It would be tricky, but if he -

The door opened.  Prowl jerked back and slid his door mostly shut, leaving just enough room to watch.

The musician looked down.

“What?”  He knelt and lifted the box, turning it back and forth.  Fraggit, Prowl’s address would be on it and then the mech would come return it, make it awkward and ask questions and-

He was opening the box and lifting the helmphones out, turning them over.

Fraggit!  Now the mech was stealing his helmphones too!  Prowl seethed behind his door.

The musician held them in his serovs and then -

-pressed them to his spark with a sob?

“Thank you,” he whispered, looking around.  Prowl pulled back, closing the door until just a strand of the hallways was visible.  What the pit was going on?

He waited until he heard the door slide shut and lock before he closed his own.

That night he laid awake.  The silence was strangely uncomfortable.

0-0-0

The knock came the next evening, just as Prowl had dreaded.  He considered pretending he wasn’t home, but the mech had seen him - he knew Prowl wasn’t driving off anywhere.  Scrap.

He was in his chair already so he pinged the door open.

Jazz looked smaller today, his shoulders rounded and his servos clutched together in front of him.  He smiled, weakly.

“Ya got a minute ta talk?”

“Yes,” he answered stiffly.  Scrap, he was dreading this.  

Jazz shuffled forwards.  “Do ya mind if I sit?”  Prowl shook his helm and Jazz settled on the couch just like Alchemy had.

(It felt different though, from when Alchemy had done it.)

“I jus’ wanted ta say…thank ya for the helmphones.  An’ I’m sorry.  I was sitting here thinkin’ ya were - but I guess you’re not.  Didn’t think ya’d do somethin’ like that for me.  Thought ya hated me.”

Ah.  So he did think the helmphones were a present for him.  At least it solved his problem.

(Did it?)

“You do the radio ’m guessing,” Jazz continued, gesturing to it, to Prowl’s confusion.  “I thought about getting one after I saw your’s, but…  That would be too much like admitting it, if I bought it, ya know?  Not sure why.”

Now he was lost.

“For me, for me I keep hearing his voice, ya know?  Oh, sorry,” he said at Prowl’s probably obvious puzzlement.  “My twin, um, slag this is hard, and it’s been six months.”  He closed his optics and vented slowly.  Prowl realized it was the same venting his therapist had tried to teach him.  He opened his optics.

“My brother died of an overdose six months ago.”

“Oh.”

“It wasn’t really a surprise,” Jazz said, hurriedly.  “We’d known for a while that he wasn’t going ta his meetings an’ he wasn’t speaking wit’ his therapist.  Towards the end he was angry all the time.  He wanted us ta stop tryin’ ta help, wanted us ta stop pityin’ him, wanted the drugs more than anything else.  Got the call at night.”

“So you play at night,” Prowl found himself saying before he could stop himself.  “Because you can hear the comm ping if you don’t.”

(I hear them calling for backup.  I hear Strongarm trying to stop the energon.)

“Yep.  Can’t - can’t stand the silence anymore.  I can’t give myself too much room ta think most ‘a the time.  So…thank you.”

Oh.  Jazz played his music at night so he thought Prowl had given him the helmphones to help.

(Jazz played his music at night for the same reason Prowl couldn’t stop sanding and painting and listening to his radio.)

Prowl felt a stab of guilt, but pushed it away.  Besides, it all ended well.  Now Jazz could leave him alone and he would have the quiet again.

(He hated it.)

“I’m glad they helped,” he said, hoping to end the conversation.

(But what if they kept talking?  Maybe he wanted that.)

Jazz didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave.  He wrapped his arms around himself and leaned back against the couch cushions.

“Yeah.  I jus’ wanted ta say, too - it’s okay if ya need ta ya want ta play ya radio louder.  That is, if ya need ta take ya time wit’ it all.  My friends don’ really get it, ya know?  They think I need to move on.  I think it’s probably the same for you, isn’t it?  It’s a whole tangled thing - it’s him and it’s all the stuff we never got ta do together and it’s having to look normal when ya not.”

“I don’t - “ Prowl started to say.

(He did.)

“I mean, I know he wasn’t the best of bots,” Jazz said, his voice edging closer to a sob, rough and trembling.  “But he was my brother.  I - I miss him.”

“Of course,” Prowl said quietly, “he was your brother.”

Jazz nodded and gripped his arms hard, servos denting the metal.

“I thought maybe if I moved outta Polyhex, away from where we’d always been together, I could at least not see his ghost ‘round every corner.  Guess I didn’t realize ya bring ya ghosts wit’ ya.”

Prowl knew that feeling - wanting to get away from the tragedy - drive until he could outrun it.

“And, well -” Jazz’s laugh turned into a sob.  “I didn’t realize how much work grief was.”

Prowl remembered the therapist’s words, right after they realized his injury couldn’t be fixed.

“It will take time.  Grief is work.”

He flinched away from the memory.

“I just wanted it to be over.  I jus’ wanna stop bein’ sad all a’ the time.”

“I don’t.”  Oh.  That was him.  Blurry optics looked up and Prowl felt something twist in his spark again.  “I’m so angry I can barely think in the mornings.  I don’t want to be over it - I don’t want this to be my new normal.  I want my life back.”  A sob escaped the lockbox of his spark - slag, he hadn't cried about this.  He wasn't going to cry about this.

(He wanted to.)

“I’m not going to get it back.”  

There he’d said it.  His therapist would be pleased.  It changed nothing.

(He felt different.)

“I wanna go back ta when me n’ Rico were bitlets.  I want it to all be easy again.”

Prowl (understood) - he understood.

(His spark hurt but it was a new hurt)

A new hurt.  It felt like having a gash welded.  Like 

(Like healing?)  Like healing.

Prowl stood up.  It was shaky and inelegant and it was nothing like how he used to be able to spring to his pedes.  He still did it.

He took two steps and fell onto the couch next to Jazz.  What was he doing?  He held out his servo - he held open his arms - and Jazz turned to him.

At least they could grieve together.

0-0-0

Time passed.  They spent it together.

0-0-0

“I promise.”

“Unless you are in possession of mind control powers I am unaware of, you cannot make that promise.”

“Okay, I promise if it gets awkward and people start starin’ at ya, I will announce that I am engaged ta a Vosian Prince an’ we’re adoptin’ a Quintesson ta complete our family.”

Prowl snorted and readjusted the stabilizing extensions that looped from his wrists down to the ground, ending in rubber tips.  He didn’t want to use them, but if he was going to walk down to the outdoor market with Jazz he would need to.

The market itself was a shock.  It had been so long since he’d left his habsuite for more than a medical appointment.  Seeing so many bots moving around had been a welcome sensory explosion.  They were loud - he could hear half a dozen accents and everyone was talking - about the food, about the art, about the nice weather.  He had to move carefully as the flow of bots from stall to stall changed - sparklings darting out and bots calling their friends over.

The canes…helped.  He was surprised how much more steady he felt with them.  The only time he’d used them was in the physical therapist’s small office.

He didn’t realize how much faster he would be with them either.

“Prowl, slow down!”  He looked back and saw Jazz chasing after him with a cream bun in each servo.

“Captain Prowl?” He spun around, his spark twisting.

“Hello Strongarm, Chase, Knock-about.”

It felt like stepping back into his life.  He was Captain Prowl, whether or not he could walk or transform.  He was their Captain.

Strongarm was shifting back and forth.  She’d been his second, his strong right servo.  She was probably up for promotion to his position.  He was so slagging proud of her.

“Sir?  Are you alright?”

“I am, Strongarm.  I’m glad to see you.”  He smiled.  How long had it been since he’d smiled?

Knock-about, true to his designation, took that as permission to thump! into him and try to squeeze the spark out of him like a tube of grease.

“Knocky!”  Strongarm was trying to scold him, but Chase was right behind him, thudding into Prowl’s other side.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” he wailed, face buried in Prowl’s shoulder.

That had been exactly what he’d said after Prowl had woken up.

“Chase!  You’ll knock him over!”  Strongarm was there suddenly and all Prowl could do was smile at her.  He looked down and laid a servo on Chase’s bent helm and said the words he hadn't been able to then.

“I’m going to be okay, Chase, Knock-about.  It’ll be alright.”

He looked up and caught Jazz’s optic.

“Come meet my new neighbor.  He’s a musician.” 

[somerpmemes]

The Owl House Starters

Change as needed

“No! My only weakness! Dying!”

“That doesn’t count, right?”

“Do you have any friends? Real ones?”

“Tiny trash thief!”

“Oops, that happens sometimes.”

“I’m a squirmy little fella.”

“I like food, I like love, just let me write about it!”

“Oh, he gets so cute when he’s thirsty for power.”

“I’ve never actually broken any of your stupid laws… in front of you.”

“I hate everything you’re saying right now.”

“We’d be the strongest power couple ever.”

“Self-doubt is a prison you can never escape from.”

“Anyways, let’s bounce before any more monsters fall in love with me.”

“I am not your cutie pie!”

“No one wants an un-oiled snake.”

“Remember, never befriend a man in sandals and always measure twice, cut once.”

“Be back by nightfall or risk mortal peril!”

“I know I’ve had enough delight for one day.”

“Sorry to break it to you, ___, but no one here is that well-dressed.”

“This has been a rough day.”

“Big houses always belong to big whack jobs.”

“Today just got good.”

“Wizards are just old people with glitter in their pockets.”

“Anyways, your food is gone and we are too.”

“Never trust a man in casual drapery.”

“All that mean-spirited laughter made me sleepy.”

“I don’t like this. I really don’t like this.”

“All your food was so tiny and cute.”

“If you can think of a better plan I’d love to hear it.”

“Betrayed by my own cool accessories.”

“I didn’t have to be part of this!”

“I… don’t like this.”

“I think I’ll head home and look at pictures of animals that are still… alive.”

“Wow, you’re so unnoticeable I almost rolled into you.”

“It’s okay, the thorns only went through a few layers of skin.”

“Alright, into the darkness you go.”

“Oh my god, I haven’t eaten real food in so long please give me some.”

“You can’t just cut open a human, can you?”

“Keeping junk in my pocket saved my life!”

“Ahh, baby’s first wanted poster.”

“Even demons have inner demons.”

“This is my paying attention face.”

“Look, now we’re boo boo buddies.”

“It’s like a rainbow, but looking at it turns you inside out.”

“I respect your cunning but I also hate you for it.”

“Oh, gross. Can I keep that?”

“This is terrifying, so why do you look so happy?”

“Oh no, a twist!”

“I’m kind of over that nickname, but okay.”

“Oh, what lovely thing do we have here? It’s just so dang shiny, oh my.”

“And look, I drew flip book.”

“I will literally do anything to stop this.”

“If I’m seen, I could go to jail… again.”

“Alright, let’s see this mess.”

“That’s probably fine.”

“Time to prepare for bloodshed.”

“Welcome down to my level!”

“I know I should be repulsed but that look is fierce.”

“I’m gonna steal everything that’s not nailed down!”

“I was up all night poison tasting and, for some reason, I don’t feel great.”

“I need an extra pair of eyes looking out for pickpockets. And an extra pair of hands in case I want to pickpocket.”

“I got leaves in my pants. And I like it.”

“I was a strange child.”

“You think this can stop me? I can still bite your ankles.”

“If you’re gonna eat me, just do it now!”

“___, you’re getting all swoony again.”

“Rivals are meant to be annihilated, not befriended.”

“Witches eating babies is so 1693.”

“Ugh, you.”

“I thought we were as cool as cucumbers but we’re as sour as pickles.”

“Whoa, I almost passed out.”

“It’s been hours, how can it keep screaming!?”

“Say that again and I steal your tongue.”

“Keep going, this is fun to watch.”

“Isn’t that taking it a bit too far?”

“Just go away before things somehow get worse!”

“This never happened.”

“And who doesn’t like their name in lights?”

“That’s the incorrect reaction!”

“I smell an easy mark.”

“Well, I hate her.”

“It’s like demonic possession with the ones you love.”

“This is just like my favorite early 2000’s movie!”

“I’m so old… and pointy.”

“I’ve got some very confusing emotions right now.”

“My life’s not a joke! But yours is!”

“Novelty costumes are where I draw the line.”

“I am not above disrespecting my elders.”

“This vacation just took an alarming, back-alley turn.”

“Geez, I thought I’d like being babied. But I feel small and helpless, like some sort of baby.”

“Hey, take this, society!”

“I didn’t like her telling me what to do before, but now I love it!”

“Let’s go let out some teen angst!”

“This is how the cool kids ride. Super backwards, on purpose.”

“Your life is pretty terrible. But, hey, it’ll probably be over soon.”

“This is some of my best work, really captures the shame.”

“That’s sweet, kid. Now let’s never speak of this again.”

“Show, don’t tell, man.”

“Oh, look what you did. I’m gonna go rub it in.”

“That seems like a potential problem to me.”

“You being the razzle, I’ll bring the dazzle.”

“Do you always have confetti on you or—?”

“You’re just gonna be unhelpful, huh?”

“Okay, time to run for no particular reason!”

“Oof, I’ve had this nightmare before.”

“Like I’d actually apologize.”

“I want power, and I want drama.”

“Are you ready to give up?”

“I was afraid, I acted stupid.”

“I just wish you told me the truth.”

“You know, it didn’t taste as bad as I thought I would.”

“Impressive, still alive.”

“This is a throne worthy of a tyrant!”

“No, no, keep those sticky hands away.”

“No one wants to see that.”

“Since when are you into sports?”

“Gross, sympathy.”

“Don’t spend all night plotting revenge.”

“Oh, this is an interesting development.”

“I’ll take that weird grumble as a yes.”

“I’m feeling confident about this plan.”

“Trust must be earned.”

“If you run, you’ll just make it harder for yourself!”

“Your pride has destroyed you.”

“So tiny, so angry.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be clean again.”

“If you ever want to search for the truth, I’ll help you.”

“Aww, that’s a horrible lie.”

“Partake of my free snack samples!”

“Why isn’t anyone paying attention to me?”

“A, eww. B, I’m bored. C, I feel like pickpocketing some dork while they browse.”

“I know my good angle.”

“Ugh, what are the basement dwellers doing out in natural sunlight?’

“Hey, there’s more to life than shipping.”

“___, I know you’re trying to help, but I think you’re crossing a line.”

“Ooh, I love punching.”

“You’re ominous, and I like it.”

“And of course you would be here just to be a nuisance.”

“I wanted to compare sunglasses.”

“Fame can really box you in, you know?”

“Besides, if anyone’s putting you down it’s gonna be me.”

“If it’s disappointing in any way I’ll spend the rest of my life trashing it.”

“He scammed us. Can you believe he scammed us?”

“Good entrance. But that outfit? Hah!”

“I’ve got a new crush and her name is education!”

“Ahh, fresh garbage.”

“I have never seen such an extravagant earring.”

“Wow, a surprisingly peaceful domestic moment. When will it be ruined?”

“Weaponizing my pride, well played.”

“Sorry, whoever’s over there!”

“Well, go on. Eat the snow.”

“Huh, it’s no fun if they don’t tremble.”

“Oh, okay, alright. Yup, an idea’s happening.”

“Shh! I don’t need your validation!”

“Get back here before that thing bites you!”

“No, we’re gonna die.”

“Cool. I didn’t actually think you could do it.”

“It’s not a secret.”

“Alright, your adorable banter is literally making me sick.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve seen worse.”

“Aww. I won’t be doing that, but thanks.”

“Quitting: it’s like trying, but easier.”

“You humans are filled with liquids, right?”

“I guess I have always liked pouring things into other things.”

“Time to scrounge through the trash.”

“I ain’t no desk jockey.”

“You don’t know diddly dang about squiddly squat!”

“I love secret rooms!”

“You have an aura of lies.”

“Also, you can eat trash.”

“Do the right thing, you dingus!”

“It just goes on like this for an hour.”

“Carnivals bring crowds and crowds bring suckers.”

“We’ve got scams to run.”

“I know poison when I see it.”

“You can’t scam a scammer.”

“You should really put a lock on your closet.”

“I love crimes!”

“Now this is my kind of weird.”

“That’s way safer than becoming blood brothers.”

“Beat up the man and steal his things for me.”

“This mama is ready for trauma.”

“All right. Approval!”

“Curse these stubby legs!”

“Sketchy carnival rides are not to blame this time.”

“___, you’re lucky I can’t be mad at your adorable antics.”

“Just when I thought I couldn’t respect the law any less…”

“Aww, what a supportive sign.”

“Yep, I just counted to one million.”

“Looks like we ruined his life for a second time.”

“I’ve always wanted to own a jagged piece of cheap metal.”

“Yes! Bread puns, bread puns forever!”

“Now I know what friendship tastes like.”

“I think today is a talons day.”

“It’s fun because it’s stupid.”

“I’ll admit, I was adorable.”

“Be careful with my brain.”

“Wouldn’t you rather talk about it?”

“That’s my motto after all, ���Out of sight, out of mind.’”

“No schemes, no plots, no ruses. None.”

“I can’t believe I made him cry.”

“Are you solving a crime or about to commit one?”

“Sadly this is one problem crime can’t solve.”

“I’m supposed to choose someone interesting, accomplished, and noteworthy. People aren’t meant to be all those things!”

“Yup, her brain’s burned up real good.”

“Be still my fantasy-loving heart.”

“I’m pretty good at getting stuck inside people’s heads.”

“Hey, I found something magical.”

“I’ma put my face in it.”

“It’s like a little doghouse for angels.”

“If you’re handing out attention, I deserve it.”

“Eww, I mean, aww.”

“I really messed things up.”

“It’s eggs, it’s full of eggs.”

“No one turns down an interview with someone this pretty.”

“Me? Avoid? What? No. But let’s skip it.”

“There’s levels to me, kid. Levels I say!”

“Oh, right, I put people in there.”

“I’m gonna hug you so hard you’ll never forget me again!”

“I regret teaching you about the internet.”

“Ah, a severed hand. Perfect response.”

“Hmm, the demon at my shoulder makes a good point.”

“Always trust a shoulder demon.”

“The more I look at him, the more uncomfortable I get.”

“Man, you’ve got some quick grabbers.”

“I can’t wait to get overdressed, take awkward photos, push all the buttons!”

“We’re gonna turn this bloodbath into a fun bath.”

“Do you think I could pull off red eyeshadow?”

“Girl, you could pull off anything.”

“We’re style geniuses!”

“Ominous footsteps, creepy woods, this is no problem.”

“Dang, I look great.”

“___, you always go overboard and I end up bailing you out.”

“Now, what’s the fun in watching a kid get eaten by a monster if it’s my kid?”

“___, I don’t think you’re ready but we’re literally out of time.”

“Why so twitchy, witchy?”

“Teenagers are brutal. They’ll boo anyone and that kind of public humiliation will stick with you for life.”

“You look nice. Strange, but nice.”

“Honestly, I’m kind of amazed with how fearless you are.”

“You’ve done things I could never do.”

“Thing is, you’re sitting in my personal chitchat zone, which means you gotta talk.”

“I am a little weirdo.”

“You gotta pander.”

“Cheating a isn’t anything to brag about.”

“Well, can’t reason with crazy!”

“I’ve been talking for too long.”

“Feeling sentimental?”

“I love water.”

“I don’t know much about sports but I do know about sports movies.”

“What happens in the montage stays in the montage.”

“Not everything can be solved with a good attitude and a dope movie soundtrack.”

“Sorry, I just really love backstories.”

“You just destroyed your social life.”

“That’s such a stupid rule!”

“You’re not gonna show this to anyone, right?”

“I haven’t forgotten what you promised me.”

“Ahh, you’re a thorn in my side but you always dig your way into my heart.”

“Jeez, you’re morbid.”

“Ahh, it’s a fate much worse than death if you think about it.”

“Please don’t make me regret taking you here.”

“Love me a properly ventilated castle.”

“I spy with my little eye something coming this way!”

“I’m going away and I don’t know if I can come back this time.”

“And  ___, thank you, for being in my life.”

“I want her back as much as you do.”

“Don’t look at me like that, this is for your own good.”

“Ah farts, I got caught.”

“You understand, don’t you?”

“Please tell me that’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“To be great, you have to make sacrifices.”

“Ahh, ___, you chose the wrong side.”

“I like your spirit, but try that again and things won’t end well for you.”

“Go on, then. Go be a hero.”

“I may have lost but so have you.”

“I can teach you what I know, and what we don’t know we can learn together.”

[jiminrings]

LINCHBOX LOVERS FIRST KISS IM BEGGING

cold senior!y/n x stem major koo masterlist :D

jungkook’s never really had his first kiss and he might faint in nervousness

there’s something really important that jungkook’s nEVER said to you

he kinda thinks it’s a life or death scenario <3

the two of you are together now after all!! you know things about each other, that’s just how it is

you know that his oddly specific fear is having a spider crawl on him while he’s asleep and that he can’t read sheet music or a single note for the life of him!!! lol that’s why he’s in stem

jungkook knows that you like cracking your knuckles on your hand using the same hand, and that you’re actually SCARED if you even try to crack them with your opposite hand

one time jin caught you off-guard and cracked your knuckles all at the same time and you hate that too so you ended up crying to yoongi

the two of you will eventually know almost everything about each other in due time!!

but jungkook really really wants you to know right now

right now IS due time

yoongi’s out to pick up jin because he’s in another state that’s seven hours away!! it’s wholesome friendship but more or less begging with the promise of kim “mr. student affairs” seokjin

“i will coerce your physics teacher bc i’m buddies with him to give you an A+ this semester if you pick me up rn :-)”

.... hehe.......... along those lines.,.....,..,..

you tagged out when yoongi asked you to come with him because you wanted to spend some time with jungkook, and then yoongs flat-out pretended not to hear what you just said and then left

once again, tae does nOT know if he’s helping but!!! he tagged along with yoongi :D

atleast everyone now knows that yoongi’s safe because he definitely will not be sleepy with all of tae’s chattering

this is the first time you’ve invited jungkook over with absolutely no one else in the dorm

no seokjin who’s hovering and keeps teasing for the two of you to sit two rulers apart

no yoongi who insists on keeping all the lights turned on so there would be no funny business

in fact, there’s no funny business that’s happening

and that’s what jungkook wants to talk about!! that’s where he’s getting at!!

he knows you’re just respecting his space and his decisions!! that’s how considerate you are

even if jungkook hasn’t explicitly said anything about his experiences and lack thereof, jimin once told him that everything about him screams ahhckkk vIRGINNNNN!!!!!! so that’s perfectly embedded into his mind

after some thinking though, kook finally had the handle on himself to know that he’s ready — one first time at a time :-)

it’s the whole reason why jungkook didn’t think twice of coming over when you asked him to

and he’s using this time now to tell you what he hadn’t before

right now when the two of you are watching a movie and his head’s resting on the crook of your shoulder with your hand on his knee, to tell you that —

“i haven’t had my first kiss.”

jungkook blurts out and it’s not only him that’s a little taken-aback with the suddenness, feeling your head tilt to come look at him

“really?” your nose scrunches but there’s no judgement to your eyes to which jungkook is extremely thankful for, being extra observant of your reaction

he nods almost eagerly now that the weight’s gone from his chest, making you smile slightly

“that’s okay.”

you only hum in reply and guide jungkook’s head back to your shoulder, resuming on watching the movie with no worries in mind

there’s no worries but there are definitely a LOT of thoughts in ur mind,,,,

you’ve kinda expected it from the start but there’s nothing wrong about it!!!

the other entire reason you knew that jungkook’s never done anything was because jimin kept squawking ahckkckk VIRGINNNNNN!!!!

you can’t forget that time when jimin also needed to interview an athlete for his paper and he needed you specifically

the two of you were talking and jungkook’s approaching you with a skip in his step and your lunchbox and jimin just wanted to fuck with him a lil so he squawked it out loud

...... jungkook really insisted that it wasn’t true but he kNEW no one was buying it so that’s when he started plotting his revenge on jimin ://

just when he’s gonna get a little too deep into his thoughts on why you’re so nonchalant, you’re the one who catches him off-guard this time

“do you want to kiss me?”

he goes rigid and sits upright completely, head eagerly nodding

“o-of course.”

:-)

“oh. okay.”

..... what

........ he’s lost

jungkook’s a little confused because that’s it??? no additional remark?????

you’re just sitting on the couch like you have been for the past hour and that’s it!!! you’re back to watching your movie AS IF you haven’t asked him if he wants to kiss you!!!

what now

your eyes are just glued on the screen and he’s starting to think that love & other drugs is more interesting than him

jungkook visibly scowls and you can see him from your peripheral vision, resisting the urge to chuckle at his displeased face

“this is the part where you’re supposed to kiss me.”

his deadpanning is what breaks you, making your eyes tear away from the screen that’s rapidly losing your attention at this point

jungkook smiles meekly at your giggle, seeing you tilt your head to playfully taunt him

“oh so i’m kissing you? you’re not kissing me?”

hee-hee

“that’s my plan,” he says surely, putting his hand on top of yours before scooching much closer to you than he did before

“mhmm. sure.”

jungkook smiles in victory when you agree, drumming his fingers on your knee in anticipation

..... nothing’s happening

........ THERE YOU ARE AGAIN

your eyes are back on the tv but it’s obvious that you aren’t focused on the movie that’s playing, a playful glint more than evident

jungkook’s not annoyed but he’s definitely on his toes, jostling you by your arms to get your attention

“just kiss me! are you gonna make me beg at this point??” he frowns in waiting, quickly getting antsy with all your harmless teasing

“can you beg, jungkook?”

you ask dryly with the same playful air in your tone, the sudden return of the question to his court making him double-take

his eyes have considerably widened with what you just playfully and harmlessly asked him, cheeks pink with the teasing

“you’re so impatient. i was gonna kiss you anyway, y’know?”

jungkook shies away from your trained gaze on him but meets it intensely when he feels a weight on his lap

you’ve transferred seats from the couch to his lap, your bum placed on his thighs instead of his crotch so you would be able to give him some leeway with all of this being his first

if jungkook was flustered before then he’s probably burning now, eyes only focused on you that’s meant for him

he’s not quite sure what to do with his hands so he follows his split-second decision of putting them on your thighs since the rest of your legs are placed behind his back, seeing to it that he was already slouching on the couch in the first place

you smile in appreciation when he does, his once-awkward hands in your thighs now becoming natural with the reassurance

jungkook looks so gentle

he’s so delicate even when you’re all clothed in pajamas and you’re the one who’s sitting on his lap, so careful to the point that he doesn’t want to move to preserve the moment

you tangle your hand on his hair to card through it more smoothly, making him tense as he takes it as signal

“i-i close my eyes, right?”

he asks nervously to which you nod to understandingly, carding through his hair more to get him to relax a little bit

wait actually the mental image of jungkook being O_O when you kiss him almost makes you cackle out loud which is why you hide your face on his neck

oblivious to you trying to contain your laughter, jungkook’s gotten even mORE tense because your face is buried on his neck

-_-

^ that instead of of o_O !!! yeah much better

IT’S OKAY IT’S OKAY YOU’RE NOT LAUGHING NOW!!!

jungkook’s waiting for you to make the first move and he looks both flushed and pale at the same time, feeling apologetic for having made him that way

“let me kiss you first. you’ll have a feel for it once i do, okay?” you speak as soothingly as possible, making him nod in understanding so you’d know

“relax, baby. you just complement me,” your hands rub up and down his arms that are exposed since he’s wearing a shirt instead of a hoodie this time, trying to get him loose

“y-you’re really perfect and i love you.”

jungkook trips over his words but he means them nonetheless, mouth contorting both in confusion and amusement when you grin at him

god, jungkook’s so endearing :(((

“i meant complement the way i kiss and not compliment me, kook,” you chuckle and he sheepishly reddens at his misunderstanding, his mind being taken away from it when you kiss his cheek. “but that’s okay. i love you too.”

“it’s just me. relax.”

you scratch that special spot behind his ear that gets him to calm down and all pliable, having noticed it first when you hugged him for the first time and buried your head on his neck, rendering him mush in your arms right away

jungkook’s relaxed enough that he doesn’t feel like fainting when your face is this close to his, going a little cross-eyed with how lovestruck he is for you

and then you lean in.

jungkook almost pANICS but the way you hold him gets him to be soft instantly, the unnecessary worry in his mind melting away immediately

he practically croons in satisfaction when the taste of you hits his tongue and engulfs him fully, eyelids closing in pure ease with the delight he feels

you taste so sweet and perfect that jungkook finds himself chasing after your kiss, unconscious to the fact he’s really kissing you now

his head angles when you tilt yours and the taste of your lips hits him harder this time that he grunts before he moans inaudibly, melting even deeper when you tug his hair softly

jungkook’s looking for more that he scowlS (!!) when you pull away with an amused look on your face,

“you’re supposed to breathe, jungkook.”

“you’re kissing me and i don’t know how to breathe!!!! i literally don’t know if i can!!!”

he’s only noticing nOW that he wasn’t breathing before because of the way his chest rises and falls heavily, cheeks all hot and his neck flushing

“don’t they teach breathing and shit in stem?” you ask playfully that earns you a soft yet amused glare, a pout being sent your way. “try breathing, baby.”

you lean once more and this time it’s easier, taking it slow to get jungkook used to kissing AND breathing simultaneously

he’s easily overwhelmed with the taste of your lips and not to mention the fact that you’re seated on his lap!!!!!

the rhythmic caresses of your thumb on his cheek guides him to breathe, the fact that jungkook’s a quick learner now dawning on you

“good job, baby.”

jungkook’s grinning at the praise you give him, feeling as if those words aren’t the last that you’re gonna tell him

“now try kissing me.”

...

..... oh god there it is

jungkook looks nervous and calculating even, the overwhelment present in his gaze and he’s looking at your neck instead of your face

you’re just about to tell him it’s okay and climb off his lap when jungkook takes you off-guard and tugs you down, lips meeting yours wholly in eagerness that you lowly moan before you even know it

you’re tugging softly on his hair and it spurs him on to try and taste you even deeper, pulling on the front of your shirt to get you closer

this time, you feel like yOU’RE not breathing rip

“your lips are getting puffy.”

you point out to jungkook who has some sweat sticking to his forehead even if your dorm’s fully airconditioned

a frown goes in place of the same red and puffy lips that you’ve just pointed out, the sheer eagerness of jungkook shooting straight both to your ego and your heart

“they’re not puffy enough.”

jungkook looks blissfully fucked out and you’ve only kissed him now.

tonight’s only for his first time kissing and jungkook deems it insufficient that he’s only had the heart to kiss you tonight, soft and slow kisses on your jaw that render you surprised, kissing you by the line until you look at him fully

“kiss me more.”

.

.

.

.

it’s their first miscellaneous drabble!! as always, lmk what you think :D what do you want to see from the lunchbox lovers next? send them here <3

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Seven: How Sweet It Is

a/n: Welcome back friends! Thank you again for tuning in for another chapter of YBMH. It has been so much fun to talk to you lovelies and hear your thoughts, so keep them coming! I have to give a very special thank you to the wonderful @duckyficrecs​ for all of the love and amazing commentary so far, I really appreciate you!! Happy reading! Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: unrealistic standards of men (sorry) 

Word Count: 6.8k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, and six

Alani’s eyes peel open and she squints at the clock on the bedside table that reads 8:53 a.m. The sun creeps in gently behind the thin curtains, casting the room in a soft, warm glow that pales in comparison to the light inside her chest. As she inhales deeply, the arm strapped across her midsection rises, but it doesn’t budge. Alani turns over carefully to face Harry still sound asleep with a light snore escaping from his parted lips. She fondly observes every detail of his serene features, from the tiny freckles atop his cheekbones to the curl of his eyelashes. As her finger glides along the slope of his nose and the indentation of his cupid’s bow, Harry stirs lightly and his arm tightens around her waist with a contented sigh. Alani drapes her leg over his hip and presses a feathery kiss to the middle of his brow that causes the edges of his sleepy mouth to twitch. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” she coos and Harry’s eyes flutter open slowly. 

“Mornin’ beautiful,” he replies with a deep rasp in his voice. 

She massages his scalp gently and he hums, planting a sweet kiss to the spot just over her heart. 

“Y’hungry?” Harry murmurs against her skin. 

Alani’s stomach growls in response and they both giggle. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,”

“Need a shower first,” she decides, sitting up. 

Harry groans at the loss of contact, but he manages to secure a hand around her wrist. “Ten more minutes,”

“Nice try,”

“Five?”

Alani grins before burrowing under the covers again with her cheek fit snugly against Harry’s chest. His knuckles skim over her arm as he fights the drowsiness weighing on his eyelids. 

“Did y’dream anything?” he mumbles. 

“I did,” she admits apprehensively. “But I don’t know if you’re gonna like it,”

“Why not?”

“Well, I sorta dreamt that I was married to James Marsden—the guy from The Notebook,”

Harry laughs gently. “Lucky bastard,”

“What about you?” Alani deflects, peering up at him with curious eyes. “Any dreams?”

“Not really. But I did wake up a few times in the middle of the night ‘cos you were hogging all the blankets,”

“I get cold!”

“Uh-huh.”

Alani presses her chilly toes against Harry’s shins and he grimaces, peeling himself out of the bed to escape her icy touch. With a self-satisfied chuckle, she swings her legs over the edge of the mattress and slips away to the ensuite bathroom, chin held high as Harry trails close behind. 

********

Harry digs out a faded t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from his closet for Alani to borrow, and although it’s a small gesture, the sight of her in his own clothing fills his entire body with euphoria. He holds out a white t-shirt with the Volkswagen logo on it and a pair of grey sweatpants that she accepts gratefully. While she slips into his clothes, Harry puts on a pair of running shorts and a black hoodie with the image of Earth and the words “Spice World” on the front. Next, he digs through his drawers and produces a red bandana that is used to keep the damp hair out of his face, but Alani has already braided her wavy locks before he can find a similar garment for her. Harry extends a hand and Alani interlocks her fingers with his as they set out for breakfast. 

“Why don’t you go pick out some tunes?” He suggests when they reach the kitchen. “There’s a record player in the living room,”

Alani wiggles her brows and gives him a quick peck before venturing out ito the other room. Her eyes immediately land on a wall full of vinyls, and she excitedly browses them with delicate fingers. The Zombies, Bill Withers, and Sam Cooke are among the first in the collection, but her eyes widen when she spots a familiar blue cover. Joni, she gasps, pulling the record out of its sleeve. Alani quickly switches the player on and navigates the needle over the first track on the disk, turning the volume up and filling the room with the sound of a folk guitar. Harry’s ears perk up in the other room and the music brings a wide grin to his face. A few moments later, Alani reemerges in the kitchen, her hips swaying; she reaches out for Harry’s hands, which are occupied with the switches on the stovetop and a carton of eggs. He puts it down and gives Alani a twirl, which elicits a playful giggle that tugs on his heartstrings. His hands settle around her waist while her arms weave around his neck. They sway for a moment, hips flush with one another, before another soft kiss is exchanged. 

“Looks like I don’t need a ‘kiss the cook’ apron after all,” Harry jokes lightly, their noses still touching. 

Alani rolls her eyes with a scoff. “You haven’t made anything yet,”

“That’s because a certain dancing queen keeps distracting me,”

“Fine,” she starts to pull away but Harry immediately ropes her back in. 

“Not yet,” he smirks, lifting her with a quick spin. Alani shrieks and her arms tighten around his neck. 

“I see the lovebirds are up,” Mitch grumbles, the heel of his hand rubbing his tired eyes. 

The pair conceal their laughter and put a bit of space between each other, though Harry instantly misses Alani’s touch. 

“Morning, Mitch,” she says sweetly. 

The guitarist forces a smile on his face and reaches inside the fridge for a bottle of water. “Morning,” he returns, padding back to the hallway. “And keep it down, you crazy kids. Some of us are hungover and not in the lovesick way.”

Alani’s cheeks flush. “Sorry, mom.”

Harry snickers and he returns to the stove with a gentle shake of his head. 

They scarf their breakfasts down with legs woven together under the table and fingers interlaced. While their meals are identical, they take turns feeding off of each other’s plates and stealing sips of the other person’s drink. Harry feigns annoyance over the spilt orange juice on the t-shirt that he lent to Alani, though a part of him hopes it will leave a stain as a subtle reminder of this moment. It amazes the both of them just how quickly they had fallen into a shared rhythm, as if breakfast was a sacred ritual engraved into their muscle memory. But despite the natural ease that comes with each other’s presence, there is an impending sense of dread looming over Alani and Harry’s heads about the inevitable end to their domestic bliss. 

“I should probably get back soon,” she sighs, thinking of her younger sister waiting alone at the house. 

His stomach turns. “Do you have to?”

“Afraid so. Need to check on Pua and Freddie,”

Harry nods with a small sigh and collects both of their plates. “‘Kay,”

Alani follows him into the kitchen and her arms delicately wrap around his torso from behind when they reach the sink. “Are you upset?” she asks timidly. 

Harry’s heart cracks, racked with guilt over his petty behavior. It wasn’t her fault that she had to leave eventually, and it wasn’t right to take his disappointment out on her. He turns his back to their dishes and presses a light kiss to the tip of her nose. 

“No,” Harry assures her with a soft, dimpled smile. “Could never be upset with my sweet girl. Just gonna miss you.”

Alani’s chest stirs at his words and she slots her needy lips between his. Now that they had tasted a little less than twenty-four uninterrupted hours together, being apart for more than one moment seemed near impossible. Harry’s fingers slip inside the back of her shirt, and his nails gently graze the outline of her spine with a sly grin. 

“I don’t think I’ll have what she’s having,” Jeff teases, sifting through a bowl of fruit on the counter. Harry grits his teeth and makes a mental note to plot revenge on all of his friends later. 

“Good morning,” Alani offers shyly, pulling away from his warm touch. 

Jeff smiles and waves with a banana in hand. “Buenos días. Always good to see you, Alani.”

“You too,”

He whistles a cheerful tune and roams into the living room, leaving the pair alone again. 

“I think we better go before we get caught.” Alani jokes weakly.  

********

The Range Rover pulls up slowly in front of Alani’s house and Harry’s grip on her hand tightens as he puts the car into park. 

“Where’re your parents?” he wonders aloud, reaching in the backseat for a spare bag that Alani can use to carry her clothes in. 

“Mom had a big surgery this weekend, so she stayed at the hospital to keep an eye on her patient. Dad is in California on this chef’s weekend trip with, like, Guy Fieri or something. Just me and Pua until tomorrow night,”

Harry hums, watching her stuff her belongings into the bag. “You working?”

“Yeah, I close tonight,”

Damn, he swears to himself. There go his plans. “What’re you doing until then?”

Alani shrugs with her hand already on the door handle. “Chores, I guess. You?”

“Probably nothing,” Harry sighs. “Missing you.”

She grins and presses an affectionate peck to his cheek. “Ditto, sunshine. I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“I won’t miss it.” The new pet name makes his stomach twist, but the butterflies quickly turn to stones when she slips out of the car. 

Alani begrudgingly treks down the stone pathway when she hears loud music coming from the car behind her. Turning quickly, she spots Harry peeking over the roof of the SUV with the song “Baby Don’t Go” by The Supremes blaring from his speakers. She shakes her head playfully and blows him a kiss before retreating back to her house; He catches it in his palm and presses his palm to his lips. The song is still playing softly when Alani closes the door and she momentarily considers throwing all caution to the wind by inviting him inside. 

“I’d ask how your night went, but I think half the block knows that answer now,” Pua smirks with arms crossed as she descends the stairs. 

Alani offers a sheepish smile and clutches Harry’s bag to her chest. “Morning,”

“Are those his clothes?” her sister questions. 

“Yeah,”

“Okay that’s really sweet, actually,”

Alani shuffles through the house to make sure that everything is still in one piece and Pua follows close behind, anxious for all of the details about her older sister’s date. “So I wanna hear everything, but you can spare me the making out parts,” she insists. 

“What? Harry didn’t give you the rundown already?” Alani pokes. “I’m assuming you’re the one who told him about Angelo’s,”

“It may have come up once—casually, of course,” Pua admits. 

Alani rolls her eyes playfully, but the confirmation that Harry had conspired with her sister melts her heart. “Well then, I guess I owe you some thanks for a perfect night,”

“It was all his idea,” Pua maintains with her hands raised in surrender. “But it was? I mean, really perfect?”

“Straight out of a movie,”

“He has that way about him, doesn’t he?”

Alani’s mouth curls gently. She couldn’t describe Harry’s allure better if she tried. “He really does,”

“I can’t believe it,” Pua muses with a starry look in her round eyes. “My sister is dating the Harry Styles. I can practically hear the millions of hearts shattering over the news,”

Out of all the thoughts running through Alani’s mind these days, the public’s response to her blossoming relationship with Harry was apparently last on that list. Fame hardly seemed to be the focal point of his life given how little he had to say on the subject, thus it was easy to forget that he was, in fact, a celebrity, especially when they were alone. But despite his reluctance to open up about stardom, it’s a conversation that Alani figures she should prepare for. 

“Speaking of,” she begins, making her way upstairs. “What are his fans like? You know, what should I expect?”

Pua considers it for a moment, searching for the right words. “Passionate I guess. Loyal,”

“And they’re all in love with him?”

“Can you blame them?”

Alani chuckles lightly and her chest swells as she reflects on her growing feelings for Harry. While she had initially wanted to believe that he was no different from any other guy, it was becoming increasingly difficult to stand by that judgement. His immense thoughtfulness was evident long before he had whisked her away for the evening of her dreams. Afterall, what famous person willingly agrees to help a stranger with their homework? And then there was Harry’s boyish charm and tenderness that no leading man in any romantic comedy seemed to rival in Alani’s opinion. Could never be upset with my sweet girl, his words echo. 

“No,” Alani exhales, her throat tightening with a sudden sense of longing. “I really can’t,”

Pua squeals and envelops her sister in a warm embrace. “God, I’m really so happy for you both. My favorite singer and my favorite sister,”

Alani hugs her sister tight and it temporarily quells the ache left by Harry’s absence. “Me too.”

“But if he hurts you, I will kill him.”

********

“Hey Harry, what do you think about Maui?” Jeff proposes, typing into his phone. “The resort’s got a private pool for every room,”

Harry blinks with a faint smile still on his lips. “For what?”

“Next weekend, maybe. Glenne and Jenny are thinking of meeting us there,”

The thought of going an entire weekend away from Alani makes Harry’s brows furrow. He was going on just five hours now and it was complete torture.

“Can’t,” he says quickly. “I’ve got—”

“You can bring Alani,” Jeff reassures him with a knowing smirk. “But you two gotta promise you’ll socialize,”

Harry blushes and his chest aches at the sound of her name. “I’ll ask,”

“Don’t make me say it,” Mitch threatens from the sound booth. Harry’s head tilts, challenging his friend to continue. The drummer clears his throat and coughs into his closed fist. “Whipped,” 

“You’re just jealous that your girlfriend couldn’t make the trip ‘cos  she’s too busy being a badass rockstar,” Harry shoots back coolly. 

“So we’re dropping the g-word, huh?” 

The singer casts his eyes down at the guitar in his lap and fiddles with the strings to occupy his hands. “Dunno,”

“He’s got it bad,” Tom teases, turning to Jeff Bhasker with a dramatic outstretched hand. “Alani, my dearest, how could I ever live without you?” 

“Oh, Harry.” Jeff raises his voice a pitch. 

Tom drops to his knee, clutching Jeff’s hand to his chest, and the group erupts into laughter. “Say you’ll be mine at once!”  

Harry relinquishes a shy smile and a dry laugh at his friends’ antics in an effort to be a good sport. “Very funny. Oscars for you both.”

 His idle fingers continue strumming the guitar gently as everyone else dissolves into their own conversations. The  phone balanced on his thigh pings, and though the notification has nothing to do with Alani, Harry decides to check in. 

Harry: How’s the weather?

He can’t think of anything particularly witty to say, but the mere action of sending her a message keeps him from dissolving into a puddle on the floor. 

Alani: Google is free, you know

Harry: Ouch. Trying to tell you that I miss you here :(

Alani giggles at Harry’s clingy show of affection. Truth be told, she also misses him deeply and resents the fact that she has to work instead of staying snuggled into his side all day. The smell of his shampoo lingers in her hair and it twists the knife deeper. She decides to snap a silly photo of herself, eyes crossed, and sends it off to him. 

Alani: Missing you too, my little pocket of sunshine ☀️

Harry’s heart nearly bursts from his chest when he opens the attachment, and his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. He quickly saves the photo to his phone before setting it as his lock screen. 

Harry: My god you’re going to be the death of me

Alani: The feeling is mutual 

It takes less than five minutes of admiring the photo for Harry to decide that he can’t go any longer without the real thing. 

Harry: What time does your shift start?

Alani: 5 minutes 

Swiping his wallet and keys, Harry slips out of the studio without another word. 

********

Alani ties her hair up and adjusts her apron as she heads out into the busy restaurant. She quickly falls into a rhythm of taking orders, clearing tables, and filling drinks while the minutes in her eight hour shift tick by. Before she knows it, an hour has already passed and her mind is completely occupied with her guests, but a familiar voice sticks out among the buzz of it all. 

“Excuse me, miss?” Harry pipes up from the counter, a bouquet of sunflowers emerging from behind his back. “Think these are for you,”

Alani fights back a smile, but it’s no use. She accepts the flowers gratefully and raises them to her nose.

“Why, thank you. They’re beautiful,”

“They’ve got nothing on you,” he suggests, leaning in closer over the counter. His eyes dart to her lips in silent prayer, but Alani clears her throat and scans the busy scene around them. 

“Can I get you something?”  

Harry peruses the menu with a serious dent between his brows. “Hmm sure, I think I’ll have the Chef’s Salad—dressing on the side—a lemonade, and a kiss,”

Alani smirks, accepting the menu from his hand. “The kiss is extra,”

“Make it two, then,” he offers expectantly, but she shakes her head in disapproval. 

“Kissing the waitresses isn’t allowed,”

“Well what if I don’t wanna kiss a waitress?” Harry counters. “What if I wanna kiss my…” 

He intentionally trails off to read Alani’s reaction, but she suddenly feels flustered by the implications of his statement and turns on her heel to put in his order. “I’ll go get your lemonade.”

“Alaniii.” he complains, watching her back away. She shoots him a wink over her shoulder and darts into the kitchen to avoid his further protests. 

The afternoon rush gradually subsides after another hour of Alani racing around the restaurant. Eventually, as she heads back to the counter to refill two iced teas, Harry catches her attention again and holds up his own glass. “I think something was missing in my lemonade,”

She frowns. “What was it?”

“Some sugar,” he replies with a mischievous grin. “Have any to spare?”

Alani rolls her eyes playfully, but before she can quip back with something clever, one of her co-workers calls her to the kitchen. Harry slumps in his seat and picks at an olive on his plate. 

Two more hours go by and he silently watches Alani dart from table to table, hunched over a journal splayed in front of him. Alani’s eyes repeatedly linger in his direction as the night winds down and she knows without a shadow of doubt that more of his antics await, but she can’t resist wandering over to indulge his advances and her own curiosity. 

“Whatcha working on?” she questions with a quick glance at the page in front of him.

Harry beams, shutting the book and leaning against the counter on his elbows. “More pick-up lines,” 

“I admire your tenacity,” Alani chuckles lightly. “How long are you gonna stick around here?”

“How long you got left?”

“Three hours,”

“Then I’ll have another lemonade.” he says with a flash of his infectious smile. 

Alani swipes his nearly empty cup, but before she retreats to fill it again, her head lowers to his level and she plants a chaste kiss to his eager lips. “Didn’t wanna forget your sugar this time.”

Families come and go and tables are cleared as the sun disappears into the horizon. By the last hour of Alani’s shift, the restaurant is practically dead save for Harry, who eventually migrated from his perch at the counter to a more comfortable booth in the corner. The sight of Alani rolling out her shoulders across the room steals his attention away from his scribbles, so he stands and makes his way over. When his warm fingertips meet her tense muscles, she immediately sinks into the touch. 

“That better?” Harry murmurs, feeling her gradually relax as he works the knots at the base of her neck and shoulders. 

“Yeah,” Alani hums. The relief is instant just like it always is when he’s around. After a moment, she reaches up to where his fingers are pressed against her skin and she spins so they’re standing chest to chest, hands clasped. 

“Hi,” she greets softly. 

“Hiya,”

“I can’t believe you stayed here all day,”

Harry shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s better than being at the house missing you. Besides, I got some work done, too, so I’d say it was a success overall,”

The edges of Alani’s mouth turn up and she pulls away slightly with their hands still attached. “Oh yeah? So are you finished with that book of pick-up lines, then?”

“Almost,” Harry laughs airily. “Think it might even be a New York Times Best Seller,”

“Maybe ditch the ‘have any spare sugar?’ one. It’s a bit saccharine, don’t you think?”

“Dunno, that one worked pretty well, if my lips remember correctly.” 

The corners of Alani’s mouth curl and she pulls away with their hands still attached. “Want some pie?”

“What kind?”

“Cherry,” she says, making her way over to the dessert bar. 

“The best kind,” Harry replies, taking his seat. 

Alani cuts out a generous portion and serves it to him. “I’m more of an apple pie girl,”

“A la mode?”

“Definitely,”

“You know,” Harry starts, cutting out a slice with his fork. “I used to work in a bakery,”

“Is that so?” she indulges him, taking a seat on the opposite side of the counter. 

 “Oh yeah. I’m a natural baker, it’s what they all used to say,”

“You’re gonna have to prove it one of these days,”

“Maybe I will,”

Alani rests her chin in her hand and watches Harry finish the rest of his pie, a content glimmer in his eyes. It’s ten minutes to closing time, so she wipes down the counter and starts the routine that she knows all too well. Harry sneaks off to the jukebox and sifts through the selections available, his tongue peeking through the corner of his lips when his eyes land on the perfect song. A gentle piano wafts through the restaurant followed by Diana Ross’ vocals singing a cover of “Bring it On Home to Me.” Alani hums the familiar tune and continues cleaning up before she feels an arm slink around her waist. She stops her work and turns around to face Harry who is singing the lyrics softly. 

“Bring it to me, bring your sweet lovin’, bring it on home to me,”

Alani turns slowly to face him and she watches his strawberry lips carefully, realizing that this is the first time she’s ever heard him sing in person. His voice is low and smooth with just the right amount of grit behind it. She savors the sound, wondering what he would sound like performing his own lyrics before her memory recalls the image of him stooped over his notebook, scribbling something secret. The pair begin to sway gently, Harry still singing as he pulls Alani closer. He slips one hand to hers and lifts it so they’re in the starting position of a waltz. She slips an arm around his neck and her head meets his shoulder, feeling the vibration of his voice against her temple. For the remainder of the song, everything ceases to exist but the two of them: two hearts beating against each other—beating for each other. Harry dips Alani gingerly as the melody begins to fade out and she cranes her neck just enough to grant him another tender kiss. Her lips feel like the first sip of water after a long journey through the desert, and he knows that he will never get enough as he pours every ounce of adoration and longing that he can possibly muster into the kiss. Slowly, he brings her back to standing with their lips still attached before pulling away to catch his breath. 

“I’ve never heard you sing.” Alani murmurs with her heart still racing. “Not like that,”

“I’ve never sung like that before,” he confesses, referring to the emotion behind the lyrics. “Guess I never really had a reason to.”

Alani’s breath hitches. Once again, she finds herself toeing the line between reality and fantasy. It often felt like he was too good to be true and this moment is no exception, but the delicate brush of his fingertips against her arm coaxes her back to the present—and very real— moment. Alani hugs him to her chest to feel the fierce beating of her heart and the drum of her own love song. 

********

“Did that sound weird?”

“Sounded fine to me,”

Harry chews on his lower lip, eyes pinched shut as he locates the correct pitch in his head. “No, it sounded weird. Let’s go again,”

“You got it,” Tom says over the sound system that floods into the recording booth. “Take two of Harry’s untitled thing, rolling,”

“That’s not what we’re calling it on the tape, is it?” 

“We are until you title it,”

Harry releases an amused breath. “Fair enough. Let’s just call it…” he hums and a faint smile creeps across his lips. “Let’s call it Clair de Lune for now.”

Tom scoffs. “Okay Debussy. Take two on Clair de Lune.”

“What does that mean?” Jeff asks, adjusting the levels on the soundboard. 

“It’s French for ‘moonlight,’” Mitch declares. “According to Google Translate.”

Alani peeks inside the back entrance of the dimly lit studio and immediately hears a faint chorus of laughter. She cautiously steps inside and follows the sound down a narrow corridor, treading lightly to go unnoticed. The familiar gaggle of voices grows louder as she reaches the end of the hall and up to the door of the sound booth left slightly ajar. Her head pops in first, index finger raised to her lips, and Jeff silently beckons her inside while Harry and Tom go back and forth over the sound system. 

“It’s fine—”

“—It’s not fine, it’s missing something.”

“So go again, but maybe try head voice instead of falsetto this time.”

Alani observes the scene with her back pressed firmly against the door to remain out of Harry’s sight. His presence at the café earlier in the week had been such a pleasant part of her day that she decided it was her turn to surprise him and show support for his work, which would undoubtedly be more interesting than watching her serve food for hours on end. The impromptu day off cost her a week of doing Pua’s laundry, but it was worth the chance of becoming a fly on the wall in the studio before eventually stealing Harry away for a few hours.

“I think I wanna do a harmony for this bit,” he says finally after a minute of playful bickering with Tom. “Can you send Mitchell in?”

The guitarist flashes two thumbs up through the window and stands, but he makes his way over to Alani, instead, and prompts her to go in his place with a conspiratorial wink. She slips inside the recording booth and Harry casually glances up from his notes, doing a double take and grinning wide when he realizes that it’s her. 

“Sweets,” he beams, hanging up his headphones to scoop her into a tight embrace. 

Alani’s feet hover a few inches from the floor and she giggles into the crook of his neck. “Hi, sunshine,”

“Whatcha doing here?”

“Just wanted to see you,” she admits, pulling away to relish in his dimples and bright eyes. “Well alright, maybe I also planned to kidnap you at some point, too, if that’s okay,”

Harry laughs and plants a kiss to her cheek. “Course it’s okay. Was just about to take a break and head your way, but you beat me to it,”

“Perfect,” Alani smirks. “So I’ll just wait for you to finish up here and then we can head out,”

The singer shakes his head before taking her hand and stepping over to the microphone.

“That’s a wrap for the day. Great work everyone,”

“You don’t have to do that,” she insists. “I can wait—”

“—Well I can’t. I’m dying to see where you’re whisking me off to.” Harry quips back, already escorting her out of the booth with a jaunty spring in his step. 

********

“You can open your eyes now,” Alani bids after putting Stevie into park. 

“Finally,” Harry huffs teasingly. “Missed your face,”

They share a lighthearted kiss before Alani nods to the passenger side window. “Aren’t you curious to know where I dragged you to?”

Harry’s head turns, a cheshire grin spreading across his lips as he catches a glimpse of the sign that reads ‘Akaka Falls State Park. “Hey! Déjà vu,”

“My reason for bringing you here is twofold,” Alani explains, reaching into the backseat for the supplies she had brought along. “I know you’ve been in kind of a writer's rut lately, so I figured some proximity to the falls might help. But I also thought that maybe you could flex your painting skills, too,”

A tote bag full of fresh paint, canvas, and brushes materializes onto the middle console between them and Harry’s eyes light up. He gleefully sifts through the materials before looking back at Alani with a tender expression. “Alani, this is amazing,”

“I want you to draw me like one of your french girls,” she jokes with batted lashes. “Sorry, I’ve been sitting on that one since yesterday,”

Harry’s eyes crinkle with unbridled laughter. “You’re the best,”

“You get me,”

“Well what are we waiting for?” he questions, stepping out of the car and into the fresh air. “We’ve got some masterpieces to create,”

Alani meets him at the hood, and her arm slings across his back as his rests around her shoulders. “Full disclosure: I’m terrible at arts and crafts. I think I was the only ten year old who flunked art class,”

“Nah, I don’t believe it,”

“It’s true!”

“But you’re good at everything,” Harry reasons. “Maybe you’re just one of those artists who weren’t appreciated in their own time.”

Alani scoffs, her gaze occupied with the way their steps fall into sync. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

They venture down the same route as their very first trip to the falls, though this time joined at the hip. The cerulean sky overhead and high summer sun provides the ideal subject for landscape paintings, and though dozens of tourists have also gathered to enjoy the perfect day, Alani and Harry are oblivious to everyone else. His cheeks flush with self-consciousness when she casually mentions the song that she had overheard him working on earlier, and he simply rubs the back of his neck and feigns ignorance when she asks what it’s about. It had always wracked his nerves to let other people hear his music before it was completely finished, but the fact that his current work-in-progress was heavily inspired by Alani only makes him that much more reluctant to share. While her curiosity begs to her to keep prying, she shrugs it off and refocuses on the lush scene before them as they reach Harry’s favorite lookout spot. 

“What’re you gonna paint?” he asks, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he picks out his supplies. 

“I don’t know,” Alani ponders. “What about you?”

“Something good—hopefully,”

“Have you ever painted before?”

Harry’s eyes lift to the sky, as if searching the clouds for his answer. “Sure. Loved art class when I was in school. It’s a good way to de-stress,”

“Have any favorite artists?”

“Keith Haring’s pretty great, saw some of his stuff in New York City last time I was there,”

“Oh yeah, he’s incredible,” Alani agrees, mixing some paint on her platter. “Hey, have you ever been to the Louvre?”

Harry nods and the tip of his tongue peeks through the corner of his lip in concentration. “Yes actually, once,”

“Lucky. Paris is definitely on my bucket list,”

“Good to know,” her comment is stored in the back of Harry’s mind for future reference. “Hey sweets, you’ve got something on your face,”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, riiiiight,” Harry leans in, silently dipping his pinky in a dollop of pink paint before pulling back and smearing it across the bridge of her nose. “There,”

“Hey!” she cries. 

Harry throws his head back and laughs. “I don’t know how you didn’t see that one coming,”

“You are such a child,”

“It’s fun, you should try it,”

Alani’s lower lip pouts. “Don’t wanna,”

“Sure you do,” Harry insists, holding out his plate of colors to her. “Go ahead,”

She releases a sharp breath and turns her back to him, strategically dipping her fingers in her own palette out of his sight.

“Sweets,” Harry coos. “Alani, hey, I’m sorry. That was a stupid—” 

Her fingertips meet the side of his face and slide down to his chin, leaving a trail of yellow, orange, and blue. “Oh, sorry. What were you about to say?”

Harry’s mouth hangs agape and he blinks slowly. “You know what, I’ll let that one slide,”

“No you won’t.”

“No I won’t.” 

Alani springs up from the bench and turns to bolt, but Harry’s arms snake around her waist and lift her in the air with one swift move. She shrieks, but she doesn’t fight his grasp and turns to face him instead, offering her puckered lips in surrender. Harry slots their mouths together with a satisfied smirk, but the spirited kiss quickly dissolves into laughter when their teeth collide.  

********

Alani flips her bedroom light on and ushers Harry inside. “Sorry about the mess,”

He steps inside and absorbs every detail, taking note of all the photos and trinkets on display. The walls are a shade of blush, which doesn’t surprise him, and the bed is tucked neatly in the corner under a skylight. String lights dangle along one wall above a desk piled high with books and magazines. A hanging plant in another corner catches his attention, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the presence of her own record player and collection of vinyls. A red, heart shaped rug in the middle of the room ties it all together, and Harry doesn’t think that it could possibly be more Alani. She plops onto the bed with her completed artwork and motions for him to do the same. When he makes himself comfortable, she turns the canvas over with a wiggle of her brows.

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s amazing,” Harry applauds, admiring the blobs of colorful shapes that somehow coalesce into a perfectly admirable—yet unidentifiable—piece of art. “What is it?”

“It’s you!”

“Me?”

“Mhmm,” she begins, sitting up straighter to explain. “I really tried to go for the Keith Haring thing, but I added a little bit of my own touch to it. And there’s me too, see? The pink one in the back. And that’s supposed to be a palm tree but it looks kinda like a dude with green hair,”

Harry’s heart soars. “You made us into a Keith Haring?”

“I know it’s not as cool as what he would’ve done, but—”

“—It’s perfect,” he asserts. “I love it,”

Alani beams and she sits back on her heels, setting the painting against her nightstand. “Your turn,”

“Alright, well,” Harry clears his throat. “I also tried to emulate your favorite artist, so hopefully you’ll like it,”

He turns the painting over and a light gasp escapes Alani’s lips. She immediately recognizes the waterfall—the same one from ‘Akaka Falls that they had visited together twice now. Alani had had the slightest inkling that Harry was being modest about his artistic abilities, but she hadn’t quite anticipated this level of skill. 

“Harry,” she starts, breathless. “I don’t even know what to say. This is incredible,”

“It’s no Georgia O'Keeffe, but I did my best,” he offers sheepishly. 

Alani shakes her head with a small laugh. “I kind of hate you for saying that. It’s gorgeous. Blows my stupid kiddie craft out of the water,”

“Hey,” Harry tuts. “I love your painting, it’s so creative,”

“Yeah, well, yours is infinitely better and I love everything about it,” Alani states matter-of-factly, admiring each brushstroke and use of color. “So would it be okay if I—I mean… can I keep it?”

“Course you can, made it for you,”

“You did?”

“Yeah,” Harry admits shyly. “It’s kinda like our spot, you know?”

A wide grin splits across Alani’s lips and she slinks her arms around his neck to bring him closer. “Yeah, I guess it is,”

“And the lookout where we saw that rainbow and had our first kiss,”

“Right,”

“Maybe even the café,”

“The whole island,” Alani hums. “And the sun, and the moon, and the stars,”

Harry smiles softly. “The sun and the moon, eh Mahealani?”

“Funny how life works out like that, isn’t it sunshine?”

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