#sounds like our house is being bombed

[ahmedbm]

📍🚨please don't skip that 🚨📍📢

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #275 )✅️

Hello dear friends and potential saviors. My name is Ahmed Totah, I am 21 years old, my father is 67, my mother is 55, and my sister is 19 and my brothers Mahmoud 26 and Abdallah 24 and My grandfather is crippled and can't do anythingWho is 91 years old . We now live in the northern Gaza Strip.

Since the beginning of October 7, 2023, and now we are more than 12 months into the war, my family and I have lived a life of relentless violence and suffering after being displaced from our home, more than 10 to 11 times. We have been displaced to schools and relatives, and we are currently living without shelter, and we suffer from food shortages that have forced us to eat animal and bird food due to high prices. Winter has come and we have no blankets or shoes to warm my family. I want you to help me provide for my family's needs and protect them from the bitter cold in winter, and the harsh mud that floods our lives under the rain.

And our suffering in transporting water for drinking, and when it is provided, it is not pure. Diseases, especially rashes, epidemics and pollution, are spreading, while we struggle to survive without proper food, water or medicine. There is no place for anyone, especially children, but

And when it is provided, flour is hardly available through aid (trucks - bershtat) and one day my foot was run over by a truck because of an attack by people and this is because of the lack of flour.

This is all we have. Before the war destroyed our lives, I had just moved to my home in northern Gaza. It was supposed to be a moment of joy, but our happiness was short-lived. On October 7, everything changed. The day started like any other, but soon the sky darkened with smoke, the ground trembled beneath our feet, and the air was filled with the sounds of terrifying explosions. The bombing was continuous, and my family gathered together, praying that we would survive. When the dust settled, nothing was the same. The bombs continued to fall. Every day, my family and I in Gaza wake up to a living nightmare, in a race against time as the war strips us of any sense of peace and normalcy.

My father and mother kept the key to their house in the hope that they would return to it. My father was shocked by the news of the bombing and explosion of our house that held our memories. Here, our dreams of home were displaced and everything was destroyed.

Our lives are in constant danger, and we are desperate to find a way out - a chance to protect my family and rebuild our future safely. But we cannot do it alone. We need your help to escape this nightmare and start over abroad. My profession before and after the war Before the war, I was proud of my work, I studied Hakim at Al-Aqsa University and built a future for myself and my family. I had a thriving career and a home that I worked hard to establish. But everything disappeared during the war. After the war now, everything has disappeared. My work, my tools, and everything I worked for turned into rubble. The war took everything from us, and now my family lives in a tent, and we struggle to survive. We live in fear, trapped in war, everything we had disappeared one day. Our home is destroyed, our community is in ruins, and the constant sounds of explosions remind us that there is no safe place.

My family and I are trapped in Gaza, living in fear and panic as the bombs fall closer and closer. Every night, the walls shake, and we wonder if we can make it until morning. We have lost everything, and we know that our only chance of survival is to escape this war-torn land. But we can’t do it without your help. Please help my family, my friend. The money raised will go directly to cover the costs of my evacuation and that of my family. This includes:

1. Travel expenses – fare, documents, transportation for me and my family.

2. Temporary shelter – a safe place where we can rest, recover, and begin to rebuild.

3. Basic necessities – food, clothing, and medical care upon arrival.

4. Support to rebuild our lives – access to education, healthcare, and job opportunities in a new country.

My family is made up of 7 people, and we know that we will need $10,000 per person to cover these critical expenses. Why your help matters Can your support make the difference between life and death for my family? Every donation brings us one step closer to leaving the devastation and fear behind, and starting over in a place where we can finally find peace. We cannot do this alone, but through your kindness, we can give our family a chance to live – a chance to rebuild, to dream, and to live without fear. From the bottom of our hearts, we thank you for being a part of our journey toward safety and hope. Please help my family escape death and the danger of life. Please help my family.

That's why I'm begging you to share my story and post the link to help my family survive.

#Free Palestine #Free Gaza #All eyes on Palestine #All eyes on Gaza #The war in Gaza @asexual-levia-tan @timetravellingkitty @deathlonging @briarhips @mazzikah @mahoushojoe @sar-soor @rhubarbspring @pcktknife @transmutationdice @sawasawako @appsa @anneemay @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria @mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @turtletoria @tortiefrancis @ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @communistchameleon @dykesbat @komsomolka @notallmensheviks @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @heritageposts @stuckinapril @lacecap @determinate-negation @deepspaceboytoy @paper-mario-wiki @kibumkim @neechees @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @rooh-afza @shesnake @emil @stuckinapril @side-sidecast @brokenbackmountain @paper-mario-wiki @turian @buttercuparry @littlegermanboy @imjustheretotrytohelp @90-ghost @heritageposts @gazavetters @neechees @butchniqabi @fluoresensitive @khanger @autisticmudkip @beserkerjewel @furiousfinnstan @xinakwans @batekush @appsa @nerdyqueerr @butchsunsetshimmer @biconicfinn @stopmotionguy @willgrahamscock @strangeauthor @bryoria @shesnake @legallybrunettedotcom @lautakwah @sovietunion @evillesbianvillain @antibioware @akajustmerry @dizzymoods @ree-duh @neptunerings @explosionshark @dlxxv-vetted-donations @vague-humanoid @buttercuparry @sayruq @malcriada @sar-soor @northgazaupdates2 @feluka @dirhwangdaseul @jdon @ibtisams @sawasawako @memingursa @schoolhater @toesuckingoctober @waskuyecaozu @a-shade-of-blue @c-u-c-koo-4-40k

[linagaza0]

‼️Please don’t skip taking a look 🍉🇵🇸

I am Lina from Gaza, 25 years old. I have been married for 4 years. I have a son named Saif, who is 2 years old, and a daughter named Sidra, who was born in the October War, who is 3 months old. They were born by caesarean section. Help me and my children evacuate Gaza. I need your help to evacuate my family from Gaza. I hope you and your loved ones find you safe and sound. I am coming to you with a very urgent and time-sensitive appeal. We face a constant and imminent threat of death, injury and disease, even during the so-called “truce”. My home has been bombed and destroyed beyond repair. My family’s home. We have been under occupation all our lives, and none of us have experienced anything like what is happening now. There is now an opportunity to get the entire family out of Gaza to Egypt via the Rafah crossing. We do not know how long this opportunity will last, which makes it imperative that we raise the necessary funds as soon as possible. The longer it takes, the more vulnerable they will be. No one knows how long the bombing of Gaza will continue. It will continue, regardless of the cost in human lives. For my family’s future, your help is essential. I am deeply concerned about my children.

The money you contribute will: Cover the enormous costs of safe passage to Egypt. The vast majority of the money will be used for this purpose.

Provide temporary housing for the family in Egypt while the best way forward is determined for them.

Cover some of their initial living expenses while they are in Egypt. We hope to provide them with at least two months’ worth of money. They need time and space to breathe after being gassed during this genocide.

Once all of this is done, additional funds will be used to help me move past my current situation so that I can provide more support to my family. I have taken on the responsibility of caring for them during this critical and uncertain time and into the future.

[save-mohamed-family]

In a moment that can never be erased from my memory, imagine how many lives were taken in this house in less than a minute. In a place like this, and in a similar incident, my father, mother, and siblings were killed. It happened in a single moment, but it left a wound deep inside me that will never heal.

From the intensity of the shelling, the sound of gunfire, and the explosions of bombs, the night turns into a bleak day. I took these pictures so you could feel, even just a little, what I am going through and suffering every day.

Don't my children deserve to live in peace? Why are they deprived of the most basic rights of life, even the simple act of sleeping safely has become a distant dream?

I have lost enough because of this war. Please help me with your donations and by sharing my story so that I can protect my children and my wife and get them out of Gaza before I lose them like I lost my father, mother, and siblings.

The Israeli army has issued a new evacuation order, and now evacuations are being enforced in additional areas. Once again, we must leave the place we are in, as if displacement has become our inevitable fate. Does anyone truly understand what we are going through? Imagine being forced to move from place to place every day, living in a constant state of uprooting, without stability, without safety. Each time, you leave a piece of yourself behind, as if losing something you can never reclaim, and the place that was once your home turns into yet another painful memory.

@90-ghost @soon-palestine @jezior0 @heba-20 @italofobia

@vakarian-shepard @tamarrud @space-is-the-place2 @bilal-salah0

@tamamita @kaapstadgirly @sillyfr3nchb1tch @vakarians-babe

@fairuzfakhira @pinkbeetroot @wlwaerith @ashwantsafreepalestine

@sayruq @humanvoreture @dimondlite @plomegranate @sar-soor

@fallahi @fairuzstuff @queerstudiesnatural @communistcheerleader @pollo-con-vodka @stuckinapril @1rakus @dried-deep-sea @2spirit-1spoon @radicalgraff @acehimbo

@palipunk @nabulsi @still-hoping-for-better-days @delicatedaisydreams @gothhabiba @heritageposts @thatdiabolicalfeminist @thottacelli @fading-event-608 @remindertoclick @no-thats-absurd @eldermoonbreezy @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness @websterml @socialjusticebard

@determinate-negation @discoverynews @ezrazone

[martian-astro10]

Solar return observations- Part 2

The year in which you have aquarius AC, you will focus more on yourself, if you've been hanging out with "friends" who don't make you feel happy, this is the year when you'll get the courage to leave them.

I have noticed that a lot of people in their last year of college have capricorn in 11th. This basically means that you prefer hanging out with people whose professional goals align with yours and who you think can help in advancing your career. (you may also feel very lonely)

Everyone knows that a stellium in 1st house indicates an increased self worth but I have seen that a 2nd house stellium also has the same effect. (we were going through some financial difficulties last year, and this year my mom has a 2nd house stellium and basically all our issues got resolved and she went to this meditation and yoga centre, she has been taking really good care of herself and she looks so happy 🥺, she's literally glowing)

I have Mars in 12th this year.... And God, it is so difficult to control your anger but with this you HAVE to suppress your anger. Even if you express your emotions, nobody's gonna listen to you. (it's like when you know that someone is a bad person but everybody else loves them so you have to pretend that you like them too)

If you are someone who keeps their feelings to themselves, the year when you have your moon in pisces can be a great year for you. You're gonna be a waterfall this year, and I don't think that it's a bad thing, sometimes, you just need to let it all out. (emotions occupy space in your body, so just cry and yell)

Last year, I had pluto in 2nd house and it was the year when I started earning money ALL ON MY OWN (and also the year when I realised that break up is not the most painful thing, it's the drdrdrdrdr sound that the atm makes when you take out money, THAT SHIT HURTS)

If you have neptune conjunct Venus in 7th in libra - that guy is not good, he's love bombing you, RUN AS FAST AS YOU CAN

On the other hand, The year when you have moon in capricorn in 7th, is the year when you'll realise that it's much more important to be with a guy who takes care of you when you're sick and does household chores and is clean and hygienic instead of being with a guy who wants to fuck you 24/7 (btw, it's possible to be with a guy who's both, it's just very rare)

When I was preparing for this post, I noticed that a lot of people had their first kiss when their asteroid kiss was conjuncting Mars/Venus. I guess it makes sense, but I'm not really sure. (take it as you like) kiss asteroid number = 8267

The year that my sister started her master's she had a virgo AC with a 9th house chiron and.... This girl was so exhausted that she did not even have the time to talk to me, we literally talked on her birthday, the next year 🙂. That's how busy she was. My advice to you is to eat as healthy as you can, the probability of you getting sick is high so take care of yourself. (especially if you have pluto in 6th house)

(all pictures are taken from Pinterest)

© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2024

[0kurakura0]

In case we ever lose our spark together w/ Cod Men (GN!Reader)

Gaz

the two of you are just relaxing in bed when all of a sudden you turn over to him and press your taser making a loud noise

"BLOODY HELL"

He says as he jumps out of bed you just look at him.

"It's just in case we lose our spark"

you say as you look at him innocently.

"ARE YOU MAD" "WERE IN HELL DID YOU EVEN GET THAT"

"ghost gave it to me"

After an hour of coxing the taser out of your hand, Gaz, as if you were holding a bomb, you finally hand it over, but both of you lay back in bed before going back to sleep. Well, for the most part, Gaz stays awake, fearing being tased at night.

Soap

Soap was just helping cook dinner for the night when he heard shuffling behind him, and before he could turn around he felt a sudden shock at his side.

"FUCK"

he shouts as he turns around to see you holding a taser as you simply say.

"just wanted to make sure we never lose our spark"

with a devilish smile, you tase him again.

Soap screams again as he jumps away a picks up a chair to guard himself from you.

"YER AFF YER HEID, STAY AWAY FROM ME!"

"O come on Soap fell my sparks of love"

you press the taser again, and it gives off a scary electric noise. The rest of the night just consisted of you chasing Soap around the house. Hopefully, the neighbors don't call the police from all the screams.

Ghost

"GHOST! GHOST! LOOK WHAT I FOUND!"

you run up to the soldier as you have a hand up, waving something above your head. Ghost turns around to look at you.

"Looks at this thing LT if we ever those our spark I can just use this on ya."

You say smiling before turning the military-level taser on in your hand as it gives off a loud and violent zapping sound.

Ghost just stares at you in both disapproval and annoyance before saying

"let me see that real quick"

you smile, giving it over to him.

"cool right Soap found it in the crate with the new equipme-"

before you can finish your sentence, Ghost chucks the taser out the window immediately as he has a hold of it.

"LT WHAT NOOOO!!! MY SPARKS OF LOVE GONE TOSED OUT LIKE NOTHING HOW COULD YOU!"

"shut your trap already"

Price

the both of you are just relaxing till you look over at John

"John you need to let me know if you ever feel like our spark is fading between us okay"

"what the hell are you yapping about you know that wouldn't happen"

"I know but just in case..."

you all of a sudden pull out a small taser and press the button on the side causing it to go off.

"BLOODY HELL, WHY DO YOU HAVE THAT"

"IN CASE WE EVER LOSE OUR SPARK"

John gets up and snatches the taser out of your hand.

"bloody hell, love, you're going to give me a heartache one of these days"

EXTRA (because I hate Graves)

"you know what you did there wasn't very cash money of you Graves, I think you need to feel my sparks of love"

"what in gods name are you talking abo-"

He is cut off by his own screams as you tase him with 50,000 volts of "love"

[girlsoutlate]

there is a light that never goes out

simon returns home from deployment and is safe with his girl, but fireworks in late november send him back for a brief moment. the hope of you never leaves but neither does the memories of war

light angst, flashbacks, potential PTSD, mention of battle, everything gets resolved, partially inaccurate portrayal of flashbacks?

simon could not be any more content than he was at this moment. his breathing was slow, watching the rise and fall of your head on his chest instead of whatever you were chuckling about on TV. you two weren't under the covers, since you insisted simon runs hot even as december approached. a dim glow was cast around the room from a pretty lamp you bought, while the growing cold was shut out by thick velvet curtains. two china plates rested on the bedside table with a few crumbs of whatever sweet treat simon picked out for you to share after the dinner you made.

thats one specific thing he missed while on his deployment: your cooking. MRE's tasted like school dinners at best or dog food at worst. eating became a necessity, a chore while he was gone. it physically pained him to think about your delectable cooking, even more so you eating it at a table set for one. when he walked through the front door three days ago and smelt simmering spices wafting through the air, he knew he was home.

he knew he was home with his pretty girl. a soft, patient thing; not being thrown off by the ghost persona that was reluctant to melt away this time. he hated it, never wanting you to see that part of his life. but you helped, nails dancing across his skin or soft lips lingering a second longer. you reminded him he was really here, with his love. until he wasn't.

the glowing bliss of your bedroom was shattered by a whizz and a bang from outside. it was too close- too close to you. his love, his darling- you were going to get hurt. the thick smoke of bombs clouded his vision. hot sand burned his throat. fiery sun beat down on his back, scalding his nerves. yet he was clammy all over. cries of death and injury rang around his head. a shrill scream of terror that sounded too much like you shot through his head. eyes stinging with tears and sweat he clawed his way towards that scream. another resounding bang clattered against his skull. pure fear curdled the blood in his veins, consuming his entire being. it was too close, he needed to save you.

it was only a split-second but it felt like a lifetime to simon. he sprang himself on to you, thick arms tightly cradling your head into his chest, bodies pressed together to the point of you struggling to breath. his eyes screwed shut, heart pounding with panic while you lay there in bewilderment and fear at the sudden movement.

in that moment simon died for you, and you both knew he would a thousand times over. he would do anything for his girl, even if it meant being apart forever.

quickly you understood what was happening. you knew simon had an especially difficult deployment as communication dwindled over the month, yet you never expected something like this. he kept what happened while he was gone to himself, and how he felt about it even more so. wrapping your arms around his tense torso you slowly ran your hand up and down his back. "simon, we are here and we are both safe. you have nothing to worry about i promise. we're here in our house that we bought together. its just some idiots letting off fireworks way past bonfire night." you felt him falter at this and decided to continue.

"we ate dinner that you helped me cook a while ago, do you remember? you kept eating the sauce and had to remake it about three times" you let out a small chuckle, hoping your casualness and recollection of your day together would get through to him. "on your way back from the shops earlier you picked up a sweet treat for us to share. i was so happy i almost ate it all, do you remember what it was?" simon slowly lowered his body on to yours, hazy head resting on your chest.

"brownies" he mumbled. you grazed your fingers through his loose curls as you two set in to a steady silence. the idiots had moved on to another far away street. all you could hear were the trees rustling in the wind, the drone of a lonesome car and the hum of the forgotten program on the tv. a few minutes passed like this until simon suddenly got out of the bed. "i'm sorry" he softly said, voice clipped from choked back emotion "you shouldnt ave to deal wiv tha', wiv me".

"oh simon" you raised slowly of the bed and carefully hugged him. simons thick arms with a litter of new bandages, scratches and bruises encircled you gently and rested his head on top of yours. you said, muffled by his chest "i'll deal with anything because i love you simon. nothing will stop me being there for you whether you like it or not, so please don't apologise".

a small smile grew on simons face while a sigh escaped his lips "you were neva' good at listenin were ya?". you let out a soft giggle and shook your head.

"i love ya too, doll" he replied.

thanks for reading!! likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated :)))

out of practice writing and i havent written something like this before so i hope at least someone enjoys it loll.

[thewritergx]

Math Problems Pope Hayward x F!Reader

Summary: Pope and y/n have been studying for a test. They decide to take a break in the library. Warnings: Pure Smut, PinV, fingering, oral (f!receiving), pet names (sweet girl, baby), Lots of L-bombs. 

Word Count: 2K

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Please feel free to like and repost. Click here if you’d like more stories from me

The library was one room with gray brick walls, and stone columns supporting the ceilings. Lining the room in straight rows were multiple shelves, packed to the brim with various books. Pope and I sat at a quiet table in the back, only a few other locals appeared to grab a book and then head back to their circle of friends. Sounds of low whispers and scratching pencils echo around the room. It was a bit cramped but comfy in a ‘grandma’s house’ type of way. Pope sat in front of me, his face bawled up to focus on the paper in front of him. He mumbled something about the math problem we were working on. I wish I understood but math was my biggest enemy. I was grateful Pope agreed to help me out, or else this GED was out the window. Pope wore a dark flannel, the first few buttons undone to expose his collarbone and a bit of his chest. I tried to focus on her homework, but the way Pope leaned in to whisper about the research was making my heart beat riot. Pope yawned, stretching his arms and neck. “What’s wrong, you seem tense?” Pope asked. “I just can't figure this problem out. I think I need a break.” I revised. Pope dropped his shoulder slightly at my words. He thought he had explained the problem well. Pope could tell I was distracted, but could not place what it was on. “We’ve only been here thirty minutes. Let me try to show you one more time. If that doesn't work, we’ll go.” He whispered, his voice thick and low. I nodded and gave him a small smile. One thing I loved about him was his patience. Pope grabbed his chair and moved it close to me, our legs grazing against each other delicately. As Pope explained the problem, he placed a hand on my thigh. It startled me but I tried to play it cool even if it sent my body into hyperdrive. Pope wrote on the paper explaining the problem in great detail. All I heard was “multiplication blah blah blah”. Every time he spoke a pulse of vibrations fluttered around my head. His breath was minty and hot. It was making me crazy. What made me even crazier is that Pope didn't seem to notice at all. We had been spending a lot of time together lately and it was starting to get to my head. I couldn't tell if he liked me the same way. Maybe he was too shy to tell me or maybe the thought of being with me disgusted him. Anxiety filled my thoughts, but I focused on pushing them way. I nodded my head, pretending to listen. “Okay, that helped a little”, I lied. Pope leaned back some in his chair, laughing teasingly. “You didn't get it all, did you?” Pope met my eyes, finally looking up from the stupid paper and rubbing small circles on my thigh with his thumbs. “What's got you so quiet today? Something wrong?” Pope leaned in closer, trying not to make the conversation loud enough for anyone else to hear. I felt heat rise in my cheeks. Was he doing this on purpose? I stuttered, trying to think of anything to say.

Pope refused to break eye contact. It was obvious now that he noticed how flustered I was. He paid close attention to the slight stutter in my voice and my flushed cheeks. They were all the proof Pope needed to know that his game was working. Pope became more confident, wanting to test the waters as much as I’d let him. Pope moved his head up my thigh further, grinning. I watched as his hand moved, my breathing picking up pace. I sunk into my chair, unable to move away from his touch. It was exhilarating. Pope watched the way I reacted. He searched for any hint of regret. He clearly found none. His hand reached a comfortable place, his fingers grazing against my core. I cursed but also weirdly praised myself for wearing a skirt today. Pope scooted his chair even further, practically leaning on me now. His body was warm and strong against me. “P-Pope…There are people around”. I fought to speak, my voice strained and quiet. Pope took a quick look around the room. He smiled, not a hint of nervousness in his face. “Don't worry, no one can even see us behind the shelves”. Pope dragged his fingers up and down creating a little motion against my slit. “I love this skirt by the way.” He looked down, watching his fingers move slowly. Pope dragged my panties to the side, fighting to keep them away from my core. His finger began to rub light circles on my clit. His motions were smooth, and I fought to stay quiet. Moans threatened to spill out with every second that passed. I placed my hand around his forearm, in an attempt to keep his movements at a manageable pace. I never expected Pope to be so confident. JJ or John B maybe, but Pope? He was so put together, so wholesome. I wondered why he chose now to act on anything when we had been alone with each other so many times these past few weeks. Pope moved his fingers a bit faster, my clit swelling under his touch. It wasn't enough to satisfy the urge he was building. Just enough to keep me wanting more and more. “You have been driving me crazy for days, you know,” Pope breathed against my neck. He placed a light kiss under my ear. His lips were soft and delicate. He stayed quiet. The motions of his fingers slowly down to a stop and move down further to my entrance. Pope looked me in my eyes, slowly dipping his index finger inside me. I sucked Ina big breath of air, my mouth falling open. I prayed and no one stumbled over and Pope dragged his finger back and forth. His fingers were, rhythmic strumming me like a guitar. Pope groaned a quiet ‘so tight’ under his breath. “Pope, please. I-” I was cut off my Pope, adding another finger inside me, curving them to hit my most sensitive spots. I felt my legs begin to shake and my grip on his forearm tighten. “Come on, sweety. I'll take you to that bathroom right after you cum on my fingers.” Pope mumbled against my neck. His words sent a shiver down my spine. I swear I was under his spell, willing to do whatever he asked at this moment. I shook my head, focusing on the pleasure of each stroke of his finger. I felt a band in me stretching, threatening to snap at any moment. 

“Need u-um a little f-faster,” I moaned. Pope was quick to give me what I wanted, quickening his pace. In the quiet of the library, I prayed other people couldn't hear the sticky sounds of his fingers against my wet pussy. It was getting harder and harder to stay quiet and I had to place a hand over my mouth. Pope laughed a bit, pulling my hand down and placing a kiss on my lips. He muffled my moans and I for the band finally broke. Sick hot wetness pooled at his fingers and I tried not to throw my head back. Pope stilled his motions, staying like a statue inside me as he deepened the kiss. 

After a few moments, he slowly pulled his fingers out, gleaming with my cum. Pope pulled my panties back to their original position and stood me up from the chair. We walked as normally as possible through the locals and into a small single-person bathroom. I locked the door quickly, watching as Pope stood up in front of me. His body was tense, eyes screaming for me. “I love you, sweet girl. Let me show you how much I love you” and tugged me into a passionate kiss. He tasted like a sunset, warm and sweet. His tongue dipped into me, moving with a direct mission. Pope pulled up my legs, wrapping him tight around his waist and placing my ass on the sink. He positioned me perfect, removing my skirt and panties quick. I watched as Pope leaned down, placing a light kiss on my clit and sucking a bit. He flicked his tongue against my button. It felt like heaven as I gripped onto his hair. He devoured me fora while, only stopping his actions to take a few breaths every once in a while. “Taste so good,” Pope groaned as he stood back up, gently unzipping his khaki pants and pulling down around his thighs. I couldn't pull my eyes from his bulge. He looked big even half hard and covered by his boxers. I watched as he pulled out his cock. Pope spit on his hand, dragging it up and down his shaft. With every stroke, he grew harder and bigger. “Gonna let me make love to you baby?” He asked, pulling me so my entrance lined up with the head of his cock. I nodded in response, watching as he rubbed the tip up and down my slit. He was gentle and so warm. “Please Pope, need you,” I moaned. He looked down where our bodies met and slowly pressed into my entrance. He grabbed my wit hard, letting out a low groan. I gripped the side of the sink hard, my knuckles turning white. “Oh shit, love you Pope. Love you much,” I moaned as he pushed inside further. His cock was making me drunk already. Pope pulled me into another kiss, his dick hitting the perfect spot. “Love you too sweet girl. Feel so good,” He groaned, finally bottoming out. He kept his thrust slow and steady, sending wave after wave of pleasure through me. I wrapped my legs tight around him, bringing him deeper inside me. His thrust picked up speed, hitting me with the perfect amount of force. “Gonna cum, Pope,” I struggled to get out. “Go ahead, baby. I’m right with you.” Pope moaned, his thrust sloppy and wet. I felt my legs shake and I let out a high-pitched moan. I threw my head back, pleasure rushing through me wave after wave. “That’s it, cum around me, baby. I love you so much. Gonna make you mine forever,” Pope moaned, riding my high out for as long as he could. He groaned a string of curses, quickening his hips. I felt a warm sensation fill me up. He finally slowed down, pulling out of me with a light hiss. He placed a kiss on my lips, pulling me off the sink and into a hug. I quickly dressed again, fixed my hair in the mirror, and walked back to our table. 

[sansaorgana]

Can you write a Buck x innocent reader? Not smutty but maybe Buck finds it endearing how innocent she is?

hiii, thank you both for the requests! this story is the longest one [almost 5k words xd] out of all those "short fics" 😂 because I decided to go somewhere else with the plot this time... 👀 the Reader finds Buck hiding in her barn after his plane was shot down but I don't specify what country it is exactly (one of the occupied ones) 💝 she is sweet and innocent and shy and she saves his life so, like, how can he not be crazy about her? 😁

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

The sound of the American and German planes above you was common these days but it terrified you each time. Living in the countryside had many privileges – like being away from the main bombing targets – but it also could get dangerous when the burning planes would fall down from the sky. Your father was standing outside and watching them carefully, making sure they weren’t coming too close because you’d have to evacuate quickly if they did.

You were standing inside by the window with your mother – both scared and hoping it would be over soon. Then, a sound of loud explosion made you startle as you squealed and hugged your mother closer.

“It’s over,” your father finally went back inside and held you both to help you calm down. “The American plane went down in the forest. I’ve seen the parachutes but it’s none of our business,” he reminded you both.

“If the Germans come, what should we tell them?” Your mother asked. You had never had a plane go down so close.

“We haven’t seen anyone,” he pursed his lips.

Your father hated the Nazis but he also wanted to survive more than anything else. He didn’t want to get involved in anything that would bring death to his family. However, he still hoped the Allies would win.

In the evening you went to the barn as usual to check on your cow and to close it for the night. You approached her and patted her neck to caress her gently. You usually preferred animals to humans. They were so quiet and calm and they didn’t start scary wars with bombing planes, tanks and rifles.

An odd noise made you look around, scared. You were easily startled at anything these days and usually it would just be mice so you tried not to panic.

However, you spotted a few mice nearby and they were not in the same direction the sound was coming from. And the sound was nothing any mouse would make. It was… breathing. Sharp, muffled breaths.

“H-hello?” You asked and you swallowed thickly as you approached the dark corner of the barn where most of the straw was stored.

Your steps were slow and careful and then you saw something moving slightly and you spotted a pair of eyes looking at you… a pair of human eyes without a doubt.

Your whole body froze as your heart skipped a beat and your hands got cold and shaky. There was a man in your barn and you were terrified, not knowing what to do. You wanted to scream for your father but you were scared of what that person would do. You could run away but what if he was faster and would catch you?

“Hello?” He answered in a weak, raspy voice. “Please, don’t be scared,” he added but you kept standing there, petrified. “Do you speak English?”

You swallowed thickly. He had to be an American, you thought. One of those that had been shot down earlier that day. You had heard stories of them showing up to people’s houses like that. The Nazis wanted everyone to contact them immediately when such things would occur.

“I… I do speak English, yes,” you whispered. “My dad’s an English teacher,” you explained and you finally gained the courage to approach the man.

He was sitting on the floor in the darkest corner of the barn and he was holding one of his arms as his face winced out of pain. He was quite young and you could see his golden hair under all the mud and straw.

“Are you alright, sir? You’re American?” You asked.

“American, yes. I’ll be fine, just… Water, please,” he pleaded and you bit on your lower lip, not knowing what to do.

You should tell your father, no doubt about it. But what if your father would call the Nazis? He didn’t like them but he didn’t like the prospect of being killed either.

“I’ll bring you something. You just wait here,” you told him and he nodded.

He was completely at your mercy now, you realised. He gave you his trust, because you could just run out of the barn and call for the Gestapo. He trusted that you wouldn’t do that. He had no other choice.

You sneaked inside the kitchen to make sure your mum would not see you and you grabbed a bottle of milk and some cheese. Then you took a bun out of the bread bin and you went back to the barn.

“Is milk okay?” You asked as you crouched down next to the man to hand him the food. “I also got you cheese and a bun. I’m sorry the bun is not really fresh.”

“It’s more than I asked for… Thank you,” he took the food from you and you watched him eat it like a starving man. You noticed him wincing once in a while and that his shirt was torn on his arm and lots of dry blood around it.

“What happened to your arm?” You asked, quietly.

“I fell down when I landed and I hurt it,” he explained.

“It doesn’t look good. It should be disinfected,” you pointed out.

“I don’t want to be a bother. I will sleep here… if you let me… and I will leave in the morning. I don’t want to be a problem for you and your family,” he promised.

You remained silent. You felt bad for that man. He shouldn’t be travelling in his state and he was an easy target for the Germans in his uniform, especially being slowed down by his injury.

“I have to go before my dad checks on me,” you told him and he nodded.

You closed the barn and went back home with a heart feeling heavy in your chest. You had to tell your father about it and if he’d want to call the Gestapo, you’d just beg him not to.

“Papa, there is something I have to tell you,” you started as he was sitting on the sofa and reading a book. He raised his eyes to look at you and so did your mother, crocheting on the rocking chair.

“What is it, love?”

“There’s an American in our barn,” you announced and your parents looked at each other, terrified. Your father closed the book loudly and put it away. “I gave him some food. He is hurt.”

“You talked to him?” Your father stood up and you took a step back, scared. You were afraid he would get angry at you.

“I’m sorry, he is hurt… And he was thirsty and hungry…”

“You gave him our food? We barely have any!” Your mother was not pleased.

“Just a bottle of milk, an old bun and some cheese!” You tried to explain yourself. “I can skip breakfast tomorrow morning for that,” you offered.

“Enough. No one’s skipping breakfast,” your father furrowed his brow as a deep wrinkle appeared on his forehead. “Let me speak to him.”

“Be careful!” Your mother stood up and followed you both to the front door as she watched you walk towards the barn. Your father was carrying a candle with him.

“I will go first and tell him about you,” you whispered. “He might get scared seeing you and I saw he had a gun.”

Your father nodded and you pushed the door leading to the barn carefully.

“Hello, it’s me again,” you started. “Please, don’t get angry.”

“I am not angry,” you heard a voice from the darkness.

“I brought my dad with me. I had to tell him, I’m sorry… But he won’t hurt you,” you promised. The man did not answer. “Can I bring him inside?”

“It’s his barn. You don’t have to ask me,” he told you and you waved at your dad to come inside.

The candle in his hands made the whole room a little brighter and now you both could see the American sitting by the wall better. 

“Who are you?” Your father approached him as he asked.

“Major Gale Cleven, sir. I was shot down earlier that day,” he explained. “Please, let me stay here for the night and I will leave tomorrow morning. I don’t want to be a problem.”

“You already are, son,” your father pointed out.

“Papa…!” You extended your hand towards him but he shushed you.

“If they find you in this barn, they will immediately know who you are. Come inside,” your father said and you widened your eyes. So did the American Major.

“A-are you sure, sir?”

“Yes, come,” your father handed you the candle and he helped Major Cleven to stand up and they slowly began walking towards the house. You closed the barn and followed them.

When they were inside, your mother was clearly unhappy but she didn’t say anything.

“Bring him some of my clothes. We have to get rid of this uniform and you have to take a look at his arm,” your father told her. “And you,” he pointed at you, “run him a bath.”

“I really don’t want to be a bother,” Major Cleven protested.

“That’s the least we can do to help any man fighting those monsters,” your father said and you sighed out of relief. For a moment you feared that he had lured the American inside only to tell you to call the Gestapo a few moments later.

You were proud to be his daughter.

You all went to sleep very late because of the hassle with Major Cleven. He was sleeping on a sofa, his arm was bandaged, he was washed and he had some of your father’s clothes on him. You woke up first and went downstairs to prepare breakfast for everyone but from the corner of your eye you watched the American asleep on the sofa in the living room which was connected to your small kitchen.

He was a handsome man and it was bringing heat to your cheeks. You had never expected to meet a real American pilot. Not here, not in this European village in the middle of nowhere. You thought of all the American things that you had known of – beautiful Hollywood actresses, pin up girls, Coca Cola, New York buildings… It all seemed more like a dream than a real place and this man sleeping on your couch was coming from it. It felt surreal.

You turned around to focus on preparing coffee and sandwiches with anything you could find in the fridge. You were so deep in your American daydream that you didn’t hear him waking up and walking inside the kitchen.

“Hello,” he greeted you and you jumped a little before turning your head around. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he smiled softly.

God, he was gorgeous. Like from a movie.

“It is fine. I am… How do you say it… tamid?” You stuttered out. You felt awkward not knowing how to say it.

“Timid,” he chuckled. 

“Timid, yes. I’m sorry,” you looked down.

“You don’t have to apologise to me. Your English is very good,” he assured you and your face lightened up at that compliment.

“How do you like your coffee, Major?” You asked.

“Call me Buck, please. That’s how friends call me,” he extended his hand.

“Buck? What does it mean?” You shook it.

“It’s just a nickname,” he explained. “And what’s your name, miss?”

“Oh, yeah, my name’s (Y/N). So, how do you take your coffee, Major?” You introduced yourself and quickly changed the subject.

“Black – no milk, no sugar,” he answered.

“Well, I’m glad because we don’t have sugar,” you chuckled softly. “We haven’t had it in a long while now,” you explained.

“Your family is very generous,” Buck took a cup of coffee from you and your fingers brushed for a brief moment. You felt butterflies in your stomach.

“My father is against the Nazis,” you told him. “He has friends in the local resistance, he will introduce you to them. But we have to wait for your arm to get better first.”

“Thankfully it looked worse than it truly was. Your mother is skilled with these things,” he gave you yet another dashing smile.

Was it an American thing to do to smile so much…? Either way, you didn’t mind.

“She is a nurse,” you told him.

“And you?” He raised his eyebrows and you looked down again.

What were you supposed to tell an American pilot? It felt embarrassing.

“I want to be a teacher like my father… But now I can’t study much, I have to help around the farm. We have our cow, some chickens and a small garden. We used to have a boy coming here to help us but he’s… Well, he’s been killed. It’s difficult,” you explained.

“I’m sorry to hear that… But hey, being a teacher sounds great,” Buck patted your shoulder and you looked up at him in disbelief. He still had that charming smile on his face as he sipped on his coffee. “It’s so good, thanks,” he winked at you, trying to cheer you up a little.

“Y-you’re welcome,” you felt your cheeks heating up and then you heard footsteps on the staircase so you went back to preparing sandwiches since your parents had already been awake.

Buck stayed at your place for a week to let his arm heal. In the meantime he had written a letter addressed to his British base that your father had handed to his friends from the resistance. Buck wanted his friends to know that he was alive and safe.

He was helping around the house and since both of your parents had their regular jobs in the town nearby, you would spend most of your days with him. He was helping you around the garden and with your cow and chickens. He was a funny and charming man and you couldn’t help yourself but to fall in love with him.

You were a shy girl from a small village, you were nothing like those stunning American girls you had seen in the magazines. Your English was not perfect and your stories were not even half as exciting as his. You knew very well that there was no chance that a man like Buck would ever even see you as a woman in a romantic sense. He was a gentleman and he always treated you with respect but nothing more than that.

One time when you were in the garden with him, you spotted a familiar German soldier approaching you and you panicked inside.

“Don’t talk to him,” you told Buck as you faked a smile at the soldier. “Hello, sir!” You greeted him.

“Hello, hello, I’ve been around, decided to check on you. I saw your parents in town and thought to myself you must be all alone here,” he leaned on the fence and squinted his eyes at Buck. “Who’s that?” He asked.

“My cousin,” you explained as your heart was pounding in your chest. You clasped your hands behind your back to hide your nervousness.

“Cousin, huh? Hey, cousin!” He called for Buck and he looked up but he didn’t say anything as you had told him. He couldn’t understand your conversation anyway. “What is he? Mute?”

“Actually, yes, he’s…” you lowered your voice, “...you know, not quite right. In the head, I mean. They sent him here to help around the house because his family is sick of him. His sister got married and she doesn’t want him around at that time, you get me…”

You felt awfully bad for this lie but it was the only way to explain why Buck wouldn’t speak a word. If he tried to speak your language, he would be immediately exposed as an American. He’d be taken to some captive camp and your family would be killed. Or he’d get killed, too. It depended on the German, really. And this one was known for being quite nasty.

The soldier looked you up and down and then he chuckled to himself.

“Sure, sweetheart. Well, have fun with your cousin then. See you around.”

“See you around, sir,” you waved at him nervously and you watched him walk away.

“What happened?” Buck asked quietly.

“Nothing. He wanted to know who you are,” you explained with a soft smile. “I told him we are cousins and that you can’t speak because you’re, well, slow,” you admitted with a shy giggle, afraid of his reaction.

Buck found it funny, though. He laughed and shook his head.

“And you came up with that lie on a spot?” He asked.

“Well, what else was I supposed to do? By the way, this German keeps coming around all the time and talking to me. I’m glad you’re here because every time he comes by when I’m alone, I get scared,” you admitted. “He’s like that with lots of girls ‘round here. He only talks but it’s still scary,” you gasped and Buck furrowed his brow. “I think he likes it when we’re scared of him. He asks questions and all that. He’s known for being a brute when things get serious.”

“Yeah, I don’t like it that you’re stayin’ here all alone,” he admitted with a nod and your cheeks heated up in an instant.

You were waiting for your father and Gale while sitting on the fence with your ankles wiggling in the air. You were worried about them because every time your father would visit his resistance friends, it could end badly. Especially now, when he was walking with an American by his side.

And as much as you wanted Buck to go back to his friends, you were also sad that it was time for you to say goodbye to him. You knew it was selfish, but you hoped he would stay for a longer time.

You saw them at the horizon and you sighed out of relief. You jumped back on the ground and ran up to them.

“And? And?” You asked, excitedly.

“We’ll talk inside,” your father gave you a scolding look. Buck smiled at you and you smiled at him.

In complete silence you walked back home and sat by the dining table together.

“Major Cleven leaves tomorrow morning,” your father told you and you faked a huge smile, although your heart broke. You really hoped you would get a few more days with him.

“I’m so happy for you, Buck,” you told him. “I wish you all the luck on the way.”

“Thank you,” he nodded.

“(Y/N),” your mother looked down at you while squinting her eyes. You had a feeling she had known about your crush on Major Cleven. “It’s time for you to check on the cow and lock the barn.”

“Yes, mama,” you sighed and left the table to go outside and straight to the barn.

After a while, Buck joined you.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him with a sad smile, trying to hide that you had been crying silently.

“Well, it might be my last evening but I’m still here and I want to help,” he told you.

“I can handle that,” you shrugged your arms. “I can handle everything on my own. I had used to before you showed up,” you added.

Buck didn’t say anything to that. He looked down and blushed a little. You looked away and focused on caressing the cow to calm yourself down.

“I feel bad for leaving you here,” he admitted.

“But what does it change?” You asked and he looked up, furrowing his brows. “I mean, really. What does it matter at all? You’re from a completely different world and I’m… well, me,” you swallowed thickly, trying to fight the tears forming in your eyes and ignoring your throat squeezing tightly. “I am just a village girl in the middle of nowhere, from some place you cannot even pronounce properly. I have never tasted Coca-Cola, never seen a Hollywood movie, only seen pictures in the magazines. I’ve never had lipstick or rollers in my hair. I’m less than ordinary. But it’s fine. It’s how it is here. And you…” you hesitated for a while before taking a deep breath in. “You’re from a different world. You’re so confident and so charismatic and so brave and so… American,” you chuckled through the tears. “So what does it matter that you feel bad about it? You have to leave. This is not your world. You would leave sooner or later.”

You tried not to look at him but his silence forced you to lay your eyes on him. He looked like a beaten dog and it made you feel bad.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised but he approached you and held your shaking hand in his. You looked up and he leaned in closer to your face but he visibly hesitated as if he had no idea if he could do what he wanted to do. Your heart was pounding in your chest. You couldn’t believe that it was happening.

You weren’t confident enough to give him a proper kiss. You only pecked his cheek delicately and he smiled gently at you.

“You’re such a sweet girl,” he raised his free hand to caress your cheek, “and none of the things you said were true. You’re not less than ordinary. You’re very special but you don’t even know that.”

“Me? Special?” You sniffed your tears back as you shook your head in disbelief.

“You’re a girl one in a million, I mean it,” he brushed your chin with his fingers. “I will never forget you.”

“I will never forget you,” you told him sadly, knowing perfectly well that it would be you who would truly mean your words for the rest of your life.

A man like Major Cleven would move on easily. But you couldn’t blame him for that.

It was the autumn of 1945 and you landed your first job in the local school. Since you weren’t qualified to teach regularly yet, you were supposed to look after the younger children. Either way, you were glad for this job opportunity which would bring your family extra money and some job experience for you.

You often wondered what Buck was doing. Had he come back home? Had he been caught? Killed? You didn’t want to think of that possibility. Had he met someone…?

You didn’t have his picture; you hated how you almost forgot some details of his face already or the exact sound of his voice. You promised to never forget him and you were sure you wouldn’t ever forget a man named Buck. But you couldn’t help forgetting all those little things that were making a real person and not a vague concept of an American you had known a long time ago and loved… Like you were an old woman telling stories to her grandchildren.

The bell rang and all the kids packed their bags before running outside. You were slower with your things as you had no things to be in the hurry for. You walked outside and took a deep breath in, enjoying the fresh, crispy air and the cool breeze on your face.

“Miss (Y/L/N)! Who’s that man?” One of the boys tugged on your cardigan and you looked down at him.

“Hm? What man?” You asked.

“That man over there! He looks like those American pilots I’ve seen in the newspaper!” The boy widened his eyes and your heart skipped a beat as you looked in the direction he was showing.

It couldn’t be him, could it?

You spotted a man leaning on the school’s fence. His golden hair was slightly ruffled by the wind, he was wearing sunglasses and chewing gum nonchalantly. What made him look like an American pilot the most was his leather military jacket, though.

“B-Buck…?” You whispered to yourself as you ran up to the man.

“Need a ride home, doll?” He greeted you with a smile as he pointed at the car behind him with his thumb.

“Buck…!” You screamed as you opened your arms and hugged him tight. He picked you up and spun you around as you giggled. “What are you doing here?!” You asked when he finally put you back down.

“You thought you’d get rid of me so easily?” He teased and you burst out in happy tears. “Shh,” he cupped your face and lifted it gently to make you look at him. “Hey, hey,” he took his sunglasses off and looked deeply into your eyes, “hey, I’m back. I’m fine. Are you fine?” He asked, worryingly.

“Y-yes,” you nodded through the tears. “I’m just… I’m just happy,” you confessed. “There was not a day I did not think of you…”

Buck smiled at that and brought you closer to his chest. You breathed in his scent and sighed.

“Please, tell me it’s not a dream,” you sobbed again. “Because I’ve dreamt it a million times before already.”

“It’s not a dream, my sweet girl. I promised I wouldn’t forget about you.”

“But you didn’t promise to come back,” you pointed out.

“I didn’t want to make promises I was not sure if I am able to keep. I didn’t know if I’d get out of this whole mess alive,” he rubbed your back and moved away slightly to look down at your face again. “Hope you haven’t married anyone in the meantime?”

“Are you crazy?” You laughed at him through the tears.

“I mean it, doll, have you met someone?” He asked and you shook your head. “Good. Because I really, really, really, would like to take you out on a date,” he told you and you felt butterflies all over your body.

But… It might have not been a dream. Yet it still felt too good to be true.

“Why me?” You asked with a more serious expression on your face and he furrowed his brows. “I mean, why? Why did you come back for me? I’m sure there are dozens of beautiful and kind women that would love to go out on a date with you. And you didn’t have to cross an Ocean for them.”

“Why you?” He asked as if he couldn’t believe the question because the answer was obvious. It wasn’t obvious for you, though. “You saved me. Your kindness, your generosity, your big heart – they saved me on that night. You could have left me there in the barn or call the Gestapo on me. You were terrified of me, I could see that. But you were too good to let me die, you were so brave. You saved me. And I’ve never met a girl as sweet and kind and beautiful as you,” he caressed your cheek with his thumb to wipe some tears away. “And I know you don’t feel this way about yourself, doll. But I’m gonna change that. I’m gonna tell you this every day until you believe me.”

“This is all very sweet, Buck, but… What I said back then, it’s still true. We are from two different worlds. The war might be over now but it doesn’t change the fact I’m just some village girl from Europe and you’re an American hero,” you shook your head.

“I’m not a hero,” he laughed softly. “And America is not that different, my sweet one. It’s not like in the magazines you’re reading. Anyway, I could stay here, too.”

“You don’t even speak the language,” you laughed.

“I’m a quick learner,” he shrugged his arms. “And I wouldn’t mind working at the farm while you teach. I just want to be with you,” he admitted casually as if he hadn’t just devoted his whole life to you and you only.

Your eyes widened at him. He really did mean that.

You threw your arms around him and let him spin you around once again as you giggled.

“Miss!” A whiny voice made you both turn around and look at the annoyed little boy. “So is he an American pilot or not? How long do I have to wait?!”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[kayewrite]

WRONG IDEA RIGHT?!!

jeongin x reader!! prof jeongin x prof reader!! word count: 5k

genre: fluff, humor and..

summary: it started with a misunderstanding rumor, then a mess happened to professor yang's life.

an: I mean.. our maknae on top was always foine but seeing his instagram posts rn?? i cant help but to.. guys please read this!! this was too fun!!ps. im really sorry for being inactive! im not foine at all but im trying to be foine!!

Jeongin spotted a mosquito on your cheek as you were passionately explaining something. Without thinking, he raised his hand and—

“Pak!” The sound of the slap reverberated through the room as Jeongin’s palm connected with your face.

He blinked at his hand, confused. “Huh, it got away…” he muttered under his breath, completely ignoring the fact that you were now staring at him, clutching your stinging cheek in utter disbelief.

A thick, suffocating silence fell over the classroom. Every student had frozen mid-action, eyes wide, mouths open, not daring to breathe. Even Professor Yang, who had been explaining a diagram at the front, stood there with his pointer mid-air, looking as if someone had just dropped a bomb in the middle of his lecture.

You opened your mouth, then closed it, trying to piece together what just happened. Finally, through gritted teeth, you managed to stammer, "Why… did you slap me, Professor Y-Yang?"

A wave of shocked whispers exploded across the classroom.

“Oh my god, did Professor Yang just slap Professor (Y/N)?!”

“No way! That’s gonna be on the news for sure!”

“Do you think they’re secretly dating?!”

One girl gasped dramatically. “Did he dump her in front of everyone? OMG, is this a public breakup?”

Meanwhile, Jeongin stood there, his brain completely short-circuited. He had messed up. Badly.

Before he could open his mouth to explain, Principal Lee suddenly appeared, yanking Jeongin by the arm. "Professor Yang, we need to have a word. Now."

"W-Wait, I can explain—" Jeongin sputtered, but Principal Lee wasn’t having any of it and practically dragged him out of the room.

And just like that, you were left standing there, cheek still throbbing, while the rumor mill went into overdrive.

Later that evening, determined to clear the air, you stormed over to Jeongin’s house.

“JEONGIN!” you bellowed, bursting through his front door without even knocking. “Where are you?!”

A muffled, panicked voice came from somewhere in the house. “I-I’m not here!”

“You idiot, I can hear you!”

You found him crouched behind the sofa, wide-eyed and frantically searching for an escape. The moment he saw you, pure panic flashed across his face. Without missing a beat, he bolted for the window.

“OH NO YOU DON’T!” you screamed, lunging at him. Grabbing him by the back of his shirt, you yanked him down before he could launch himself out the window like some kind of fugitive.

The next thing you knew, you were both on the floor, with you straddling him and furiously punching his chest. “HOW DARE YOU SLAP ME IN PUBLIC?!”

Jeongin held up his hands defensively. “There was a MOSQUITO on your face!” he yelped.

“A mosquito?! You expect me to believe that garbage?!”

“Yes! I swear! I saw it!” Jeongin insisted, trying to shield his head from your onslaught of punches. “I was trying to save you from getting bitten!”

You paused, fists mid-air, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “And do you know what everyone’s saying now?!” you demanded.

Jeongin gulped, shaking his head.

“They think you dumped me in public and that I’m OBSESSED with you!”

Jeongin winced. “W-Wait… What? Obsessed?! How did that even—"

Before he could finish, you grabbed him by the collar and shook him. “You RUINED my reputation!”

“I swear it was just a mosquito!” Jeongin whimpered.

Then, in a last-ditch effort to stop you, Jeongin did the most unexpected thing—he cupped your cheeks and kissed you, right there, on the lips.

The world came to a screeching halt.

Your fists dropped to your sides as your eyes widened. You blinked at him in shock, feeling your face heat up. Slowly, your hand came up to touch your lips. “O-Okay…” you stammered. “I-I believe you… about the mosquito, I guess.”

Jeongin let out a breath of relief, his face redder than a tomato. "Y-Yeah! That’s what I was trying to tell you!”

But then, reality hit you both at the same time.

You squinted at him. “Wait. What about the kiss? What was that?”

Jeongin’s mind went into overdrive. “Uh… uh… it was, um… to make you stop hitting me?”

“Oh,” you said softly, your voice suddenly tender. “Well, I’ll also accept your confession.”

“Wait, what?” Jeongin froze. “C-Confession?!”

You smiled sweetly, batting your eyelashes. “You like me, don’t you?”

Jeongin’s soul left his body. “EH?!”

“Well, it’s about time! I like you too!” you announced triumphantly. “What took you so long to admit it, huh? You were probably hiding it because we’ve been friends for years, right?”

Jeongin’s jaw dropped. “Uh, I—”

You giggled, covering your face in embarrassment. “Don’t be shy, Jeongin! You can be my boyfriend now!”

Jeongin was in full panic mode. He didn’t like you like that! He had just kissed you out of desperation, not romance!

But now, standing in front of you, with your eyes sparkling and a grin on your face, he realized he was in way too deep to back out.

Well, guess I’m in this mess now, he thought miserably.

--

You couldn’t contain your excitement as you skipped down the halls of the university the next day, practically glowing. “Jeongin and I are dating!” you had blurted out to your colleagues the moment you walked in, unable to hold back the giddiness.

Word spread like wildfire. By lunchtime, practically every professor and student knew about your newfound “relationship” with Jeongin, and you were basking in all the attention. It wasn’t long before everyone started congratulating you—your students, your fellow professors, even Principal Lee.

Meanwhile, Jeongin? He was suffering.

“Congratulations, Professor Yang!” Professor Kim grinned, clapping Jeongin on the back so hard it almost knocked the air out of him. “It’s about time someone tied you down!”

“T-Thanks,” Jeongin managed to say, his smile so stiff you’d think it was glued on. His brain was doing mental gymnastics trying to figure out how to survive the day without letting his entire soul implode from embarrassment.

“Ohhh, Professor Yang, I had no idea you were such a romantic!” cooed Professor Park, winking as she passed by. “First the slap, then the kiss! Very bold of you!”

Jeongin’s smile faltered as he tried to laugh it off. “Y-Yeah, bold… that’s me…”

You popped up beside him, completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. “Jeongin! Can you believe it? Everyone’s so happy for us!”

Jeongin shot you a weak smile. “Yeah… ha… so happy.”

Principal Lee suddenly appeared out of nowhere, clapping Jeongin on the shoulder. “You sly dog! First you slap her in front of the whole class, and then this?! What a power move!”

Jeongin’s face was a shade of red not yet discovered by humans. “It’s not… I mean… well…”

You beamed at Principal Lee. “Right?! Isn’t he the sweetest? We’ve been neighbors for years, and I always knew there was something there!”

Jeongin felt his soul leave his body again as he gave Principal Lee yet another strained smile. “Yup… definitely… something…”

Principal Lee let out a hearty laugh. “You’ve made quite the impression, Professor Yang. Keep it up!”

As soon as the principal walked away, Jeongin turned to you, his face twisted in a mix of desperation and panic. “You… you told everyone?”

You nodded cheerfully. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I? This is the best thing that’s happened to me in ages!”

Jeongin wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. But before he could say anything, a group of students walked by, whispering loudly.

“Did you hear? Professor Yang kissed Professor (Y/N) after slapping her in front of the whole class!”

“Yeah, I heard! Talk about a whirlwind romance!”

“I bet they’ve been secretly dating for years!”

Jeongin clenched his fists, trying to maintain the fake smile plastered on his face. This was getting way out of hand. He hadn’t even processed what was happening himself, and now the whole university was acting like they’d been following his fake love life like it was the hottest new K-drama.

You, on the other hand, were in your element, waving at everyone and basking in the attention. “Come on, Jeongin!” you said, grabbing his arm and pulling him along. “Let’s go to lunch together. It’s our first official lunch date as a couple!”

Jeongin followed along helplessly, his heart sinking further with every passing second. “Lunch… date… great…”

As you both made your way to the cafeteria, you were all smiles and sunshine, happily chatting about how perfect everything was. Meanwhile, Jeongin stared blankly ahead, his mind going a million miles a minute.

How am I going to survive this? he thought miserably, his fake smile twitching as another professor gave him a teasing thumbs-up.

--

One week into this "relationship," Jeongin was still struggling to survive. The whole thing had snowballed out of control. The once small, laughable rumor had now solidified into a full-blown campus-wide "fact." Teachers, staff, and students alike were fully convinced that he and you were happily dating.

You, on the other hand, were living your best life. Your joy at the situation was contagious. Every time someone asked about the relationship, you gave them an enthusiastic update.

“Oh yeah, Jeongin and I went out for dinner the other night,” you casually mentioned in the teacher’s lounge one morning, and the other teachers lit up.

“Where did you go?” Professor Park asked, leaning in with interest.

“Just this little Italian place downtown. Jeongin insisted on treating me,” you said, smiling like a lovesick puppy. Of course, none of it actually happened, but it didn’t matter. Your storytelling skills had everyone hanging on your every word.

Meanwhile, Jeongin, sitting quietly at the corner of the lounge, pretended to sip his coffee while his life slowly unraveled before his eyes.

“Oh my god, Jeongin is such a gentleman!” someone whispered loudly, and the rest of the teachers nodded in agreement.

Jeongin internally screamed. Gentleman? Me? I just wanted to correct one misunderstanding, and now I’m the romantic lead in a drama I didn’t sign up for!

At school, things were no better. Jeongin couldn’t walk down the hallway without a student giving him an admiring look or a cheeky thumbs-up. Every day felt like a test of his endurance.

“Professor Yang, I heard you and Professor (Y/N) are like, relationship goals,” one student said as Jeongin walked into class. He froze, mid-step.

“Uh... thanks?” he managed to choke out.

Another student chimed in, “Yeah, my girlfriend and I look up to you guys. You’re the perfect example of true love!”

Jeongin felt his soul leave his body. True love? Are you kidding me? He forced a smile and shuffled to his desk, all while internally begging for some cosmic intervention to end his suffering.

--

After weeks of the messed up situation (for jeongin)..

Jeongin stood at the front of the class, his usual calm, professional demeanor in place. He was explaining the day’s lesson on statistics, but something was off. One of the students kept shifting in their seat, glancing nervously between him and their textbook. Finally, unable to hold it in any longer, they raised their hand.

“Professor Yang…” the student began, their voice wavering slightly.

Jeongin paused, turning his attention to the student. “Yes? Do you have a question about the lesson?”

The student fidgeted. “Not exactly. It’s just… um… I really like Professor (Y/N). Like, a lot.”

Jeongin blinked, completely thrown off. The class fell into a hush, eyes wide, as they eagerly awaited his reaction. He felt his heart race, but somehow managed to keep his expression neutral.

Clearing his throat, Jeongin forced a smile. “Well… if you want a girlfriend like Professor (Y/N), you should focus on your studies. Get good grades, graduate, and maybe one day, someone just as amazing will come into your life.”

The student’s face flushed as the class erupted into giggles, and Jeongin awkwardly scratched the back of his head. This day can’t get any weirder, he thought to himself.

Later that afternoon, Jeongin found himself sitting across from you in the faculty cafeteria, trying to shake off the awkwardness of that confession. You, as usual, were happily digging into your lunch, oblivious to the chaos he’d dealt with.

Just as Jeongin was about to take a bite of his sandwich, you suddenly said, “I think we should break up for a while.”

Jeongin froze mid-bite, his eyes widening as he looked at you in shock. “W-What?”

You sighed, setting down your fork. “It’s just that… I think our ‘relationship’ is causing more harm than good. A lot of my students are heartbroken, you know?”

Jeongin blinked, still not processing what you were saying. “Heartbroken?”

“Yeah,” you continued, shrugging casually. “They all have a crush on you. Some of them have even stopped coming to my classes. It’s kind of a problem.”

Jeongin was stunned, staring at you as if you’d just told him the sky was green. “Wait… you’re saying we should ‘break up’ because our students are heartbroken that we’re together?”

You nodded, completely serious. “Exactly. I’ll fix it, and once things settle down, we can get back together. Simple, right?”

For a moment, Jeongin didn’t know what to say. He just sat there, dumbfounded. But then, slowly, he felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. The absurdity of the situation was too much.

“Sure,” he said, trying to suppress the growing grin on his face. “I mean, yes. We should definitely, uh… fix our students first.”

You smiled back, completely missing the relief that was practically radiating off of Jeongin. “Great! Glad we’re on the same page.”

As you went back to eating your lunch, Jeongin sat there, still smiling to himself, feeling like he had just dodged the weirdest bullet of his life.

--

The news of your "breakup" spread faster than a wildfire during a heatwave. Within hours, whispers of your separation had reached every corner of the university. Students exchanged shocked glances, and staff members, who had once teased you both relentlessly, now approached with sympathetic smiles.

You sat in the faculty lounge, sipping on a cup of tea, when Professor Choi from the History department quietly slid into the seat next to you.

“I heard,” she said softly, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry to hear about you and Jeongin. Breakups are never easy, especially when you still have to see each other every day.”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from laughing at the absurdity of it all. "Yeah… it’s been rough," you muttered, trying to look appropriately heartbroken.

Meanwhile, Jeongin was getting his own dose of sympathy. He sat at his desk, furiously typing up notes, when Principal Lee casually strolled over and leaned against the doorway.

“Yang,” the principal said in a low, solemn voice, “I know it’s tough right now, but… if you need to take some time off to, you know, process everything, just say the word. We all understand.”

Jeongin looked up, his face blank. “Time off?”

Principal Lee nodded, crossing his arms. “After the breakup… it can’t be easy to work with someone you still have feelings for.”

Jeongin blinked, finally registering what was happening. Oh right, the breakup. They think I’m upset…

Realizing he had to play along, Jeongin sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah… it’s been hard.”

The principal clapped him on the shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Yang. Don’t hesitate to ask for support if you need it.”

As soon as Principal Lee left, Jeongin leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. This is getting ridiculous, he thought, but couldn’t help smiling. The sympathy and comfort he was receiving was nice, though it felt incredibly unnecessary.

During lunch, the two of you crossed paths in the hallway. You caught each other’s eye, and despite everything, Jeongin had to stifle a laugh. You both knew how ridiculous the situation had become, but there was no turning back now.

“Got a lot of support?” you asked with a grin.

Jeongin nodded, smirking. “More than I can handle. They think I’m a broken man.”

You laughed. “And yet here you are, looking completely unbothered.”

Jeongin shrugged, unable to hide the mischievous twinkle in his eye. “What can I say? I’m handling it really well.”

--

By the end of the week, the whole campus was buzzing with the “tragic” news of your breakup. You couldn’t walk down the hallway without someone giving you a sympathetic look or a pat on the shoulder, and Jeongin… well, he was practically swimming in support from all directions.

On Friday morning, as you arrived at your desk, you found a small gift bag with a note attached.

Stay strong, Professor (Y/N)! Heartbreak is tough, but you’re tougher! - Faculty Support Team

You shook your head, trying not to burst into laughter. Jeongin had just walked in, clearly trying to avoid eye contact with anyone for fear of being bombarded with more sympathetic words. But as fate would have it, Professor Lee from the Economics department appeared out of nowhere, placing a hand on Jeongin’s shoulder.

“Yang,” Professor Lee said in a voice heavy with emotion. “I just want to say… we’re all really proud of how strong you’ve been. You’ve handled this breakup with so much grace. It’s truly inspiring.”

Jeongin blinked, forcing a tight-lipped smile. “Uh… thanks?”

“If you ever want to talk about it,” Professor Lee continued, “my door is always open. Sometimes, it helps to let it all out.”

Jeongin could barely suppress an eye roll but managed to keep his expression neutral. “I appreciate that.”

As soon as Professor Lee left, Jeongin plopped down in the chair next to yours, groaning. “I can’t take much more of this. It’s like everyone thinks I’m seconds away from a meltdown.”

You snorted. “They’re just being considerate. You are going through a ‘devastating’ breakup, remember?”

Jeongin sighed dramatically. “Yeah, but do they have to constantly remind me? I’ve been offered counseling, time off, and even baked goods—like, six times this week.”

You grinned. “That sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me.”

Jeongin shot you a playful glare. “Easy for you to say. You’re over here getting gift bags.”

The two of you shared a laugh, and for a moment, the whole ridiculous situation didn’t seem so bad. But then, as if the universe had a personal vendetta against Jeongin, Principal Lee strolled into the lounge, spotting you both at once.

“Ah, Professors!” Principal Lee said, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “It’s good to see you two… managing things so well.”

Jeongin internally groaned. Here we go again.

“I just wanted to say,” Principal Lee continued, his tone taking on a deep, meaningful note, “you’ve both handled this transition with such professionalism and maturity. I’m proud of how you’ve put your students first during this difficult time.”

You and Jeongin exchanged a glance, you gave a solemn nod. “Thank you, sir. We’re just trying to focus on what’s best for everyone.”

Principal Lee gave a final nod of approval before walking away, leaving the two of you.

Jeongin sighed deeply. “Professionalism. Maturity.”

You giggled. “Hey, at least no one’s asking if we’re getting back together yet.”

Jeongin rolled his eyes with a smile. “Give them time.”

--

After the news of your "breakup" spread, the campus vibe completely shifted. Students who once looked heartbroken at the sight of you and Jeongin together were now noticeably more cheerful. Some even started paying extra attention during Jeongin’s lectures, no longer distracted by their imaginary heartbreaks. The campus seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief.

In particular, a few students had grown oddly enthusiastic about your newfound "single" status.

One day, during lunch break, you left the faculty room to grab a coffee.

Across the room, Jeongin was pretending to focus on his papers, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw an entire thing unfold. A tall student, clearly nervous but determined, had crept into the faculty room, glanced around cautiously, and then swiftly placed the milk on your desk before practically running out.

Jeongin raised an eyebrow. What the…?

As soon as the student was out of sight, curiosity got the better of him. He glanced around the room to make sure no one else was watching, then stood up and made his way over to your desk. He leaned down, inspecting the little pink carton like it was evidence in a crime scene.

Strawberry milk? Really?

Jeongin shook his head, slightly amused. He knew exactly what was happening—some student had a crush on you, and now that the breakup rumors were out there, they were shooting their shot.

Jeongin leaned against your desk, arms crossed, staring at the milk with an expression that could only be described as a mix of disbelief and mild irritation.

First they’re heartbroken, and now they’re trying to make a move? he thought, a small smirk playing on his lips. He wasn’t sure if he should be amused or… annoyed.

Just then, you walked back into the room, catching sight of Jeongin standing near your desk with a carton of strawberry milk in his hand.

“Uh… what are you doing?” you asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

Jeongin looked up, trying to act nonchalant as he pointed to the milk. “You’ve got an admirer, it seems.”

You blinked in surprise. “What?”

He handed you the milk, still smirking. “Found this on your desk. Some student dropped it off, probably hoping to win your heart with sweet drinks.”

You stared at the carton, then back at Jeongin, trying to process what he was saying. “A student… gave me strawberry milk?”

Jeongin nodded, leaning in slightly. “And not just any student. That tall one from your class—the one who always sits in the back and pretends he’s not staring at you the whole time.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “Well, at least it’s not another breakup sympathy gift.”

Jeongin chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Yeah, but now you’ve got students lining up to be your rebound.”

You playfully swatted his arm. “Oh, shut up.”

But as you sat down, opening the milk and taking a sip, Jeongin couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions. He didn’t like you romantically—that much he knew. But seeing other people making moves on you… it felt odd. Not bad exactly, just… odd.

Still, he shrugged it off, returning to his desk with a final glance at you sipping the strawberry milk.

Well, at least she seems to be enjoying it, he thought, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle.

Over the next few days, you noticed more of those small gestures—the occasional extra pen left on your desk, little notes with doodles, and once, someone even left a small bouquet of sunflower. The attention from your students, though sweet, was starting to get a bit overwhelming. Meanwhile, Jeongin was secretly keeping track of every “gift” like a personal tally, finding it both amusing and somewhat annoying.

But today, Jeongin found himself in a particularly bad mood. He wouldn’t admit it, but every time he saw one of your students sneaking something onto your desk, it grated at him more than usual. And the last straw came when you received yet another carton of strawberry milk.

This time, Jeongin was teaching in the adjacent classroom when he noticed the same tall student from before standing outside the faculty room, peeking in to make sure no one saw him. The moment the coast was clear, the student dashed inside and left another carton on your desk, sneaking away as fast as he came.

Jeongin frowned. Again with the strawberry milk? Is this guy serious?

Later, as you entered the room after class, Jeongin was already standing there, staring at the carton as if it had personally offended him.

“Uh… are you collecting these now?” you teased, walking toward your desk.

Jeongin held up the milk with a bemused expression. “Don’t you think it’s weird that this guy keeps giving you strawberry milk? I mean, come on, he’s got no creativity.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re jealous of a carton of milk now?”

Jeongin blinked. “W-What? No! I just think it’s… repetitive,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

You laughed and took the milk from his hand, giving him a light-hearted smile. “I think it’s kind of sweet. You know, harmless.”

Jeongin snorted, clearly unimpressed. “Sweet, huh? Well, maybe he should try actually talking to you instead of leaving mystery drinks on your desk.”

You were about to respond when suddenly, the tall student walked past the door, clearly not expecting to see Jeongin still standing there. He froze, eyes wide as he saw Jeongin holding the milk, his face turning beet red.

“Oh—uh, hi, Professor Yang!” the student stammered, nervously fidgeting.

Jeongin’s eyes narrowed slightly, but his smile remained in place—though it definitely didn’t reach his eyes. “Ah, it’s you again. What’s this, another gift for Professor (Y/N)? You know, if you want a girlfriend like her, you should focus on your studies first. Maybe graduate, too, before you start handing out milk.”

The student’s face turned even redder, and he gave a quick nod before practically running away.

You gave Jeongin a look. “Did you just… scare him off?”

Jeongin shrugged, feigning innocence. “I’m just encouraging academic focus. That’s my job.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, laughing softly as you sat down. “You’re impossible.”

--

One afternoon, as you stood outside the faculty room, you were approached by the father of one of your students. He looked a little troubled, so you smiled warmly and asked how you could help.

"Ah, Professor (Y/N), I just wanted to talk to you about my son's performance in class," the father started, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "He's been struggling lately, and I think it's because of some issues at home…"

You listened attentively, nodding as he explained the situation. Unbeknownst to you, Jeongin had just come out of his own classroom and saw you in conversation with the man. Out of habit, Jeongin walked over, stopping beside you. He crossed his arms and subtly observed the situation, his expression calm but his gaze sharp.

The conversation with the student's father went on for a few minutes, mostly focused on academics. But then, out of nowhere, the man smiled a little too warmly and said, "You know, Professor (Y/N), I really appreciate how much you care about the students. Maybe I could get your number so I can reach you if there’s anything else about my son I need to discuss?"

Before you could respond, Jeongin stepped forward. “Actually, I’m Professor Yang, her colleague,” he interjected smoothly, a polite but firm smile on his face. “You can contact me directly if there’s anything you need to discuss about your son’s progress. I’ll make sure the message reaches Professor (Y/N).”

The father looked a little taken aback by Jeongin’s sudden presence but nodded slowly, glancing between the two of you. “Oh, I see. Well, thank you, Professor Yang.” He accepted the number Jeongin offered, then awkwardly excused himself.

Once he was gone, you turned to Jeongin, your arms crossed, eyebrow raised. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

Jeongin rolled his eyes. “Trust me, I did.”

You chuckled, nudging him lightly. “What, were you jealous of a parent now? I mean, come on, he was just asking for my number.”

Jeongin’s jaw clenched slightly, and you could see the faintest flush on his cheeks. “Jealous? No. I’m just being cautious. That guy… something felt off.”

You chuckled, giving him a light nudge. “Sure, sure. You’re totally not jealous.”

Jeongin stayed silent for a moment before turning to face you fully. His expression was serious now, his usual playfulness gone. “Look, I’m kind of tired of this… seeing things like that happening.”

You blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

Jeongin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before blurting out, “You should just get back together with me already.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, completely caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

He looked at you, dead serious now. “Yeah. I’m tired of pretending. All this break-up stuff and guys sneaking around leaving you milk—it’s driving me crazy. So, let’s just stop playing games and get back together.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to process his sudden confession. Then, a teasing grin spread across your face. “Wow, Jeongin… I didn’t know you were this in love with me. You’re really losing it, huh?”

Jeongin rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re impossible.”

You laughed and leaned in closer. “Alright, fine. We’ll get back together… but,” you paused for effect, “let’s keep it a secret relationship. You know, for the thrill of it.”

Jeongin raised an eyebrow, clearly not amused by the suggestion. “No.”

You blinked. “No? Why not?”

He crossed his arms, standing firm. “If we’re getting back together, I’m letting everyone know. I’m not hiding it.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, feeling a mix of surprise and excitement. You raised an eyebrow. “Wow… you’re really serious.”

Jeongin nodded, his gaze steady. “Yeah. I am.”

News spread like wildfire—no, like how Lightning McQueen drives! In no time, whispers of “Professor Yang and (Y/N) are back together!” buzzed through the halls.

And this time, Jeongin wasn’t just accepting congratulations; he was practically beaming! With a newfound confidence, he grinned as faculty members and students approached him, slapping him on the back and congratulating him on “landing the best professor in the university.”

“You’re a lucky guy, Professor!” one student chirped during class, his eyes wide with admiration. “I hope I can get a girlfriend like her someday!”

Jeongin smirked, leaning back in his chair. “If you want someone like me, you better ace my quizzes!” He paused, his smile growing mischievous. “Alright, everyone, grab a piece of paper! Surprise quiz time!”

Later, while you were teaching your class, a girl shyly raised her hand. “What’s it like being Jeongin’s girlfriend?!” She squealed, and the rest of the class leaned in, practically vibrating with excitement.

You couldn’t help but laugh, loving the attention. “Well, let me tell you, it’s like having a baby dinosaur in your life!” You grinned as they squealed, hanging on your every word. “He’s really sweet, but also super clumsy. When we were kids, he once tripped over his shoelaces while trying to impress me with a magic trick. Spoiler: the magic trick failed, but it was pretty funny.”

The students were wide-eyed, hanging on to your every word, as you shared more stories about Jeongin and his antics growing up. Laughter filled the room as you recounted tales of his childhood mishaps, and you could see how much they adored the idea of their professors being so relatable and real.

"Now can someone answer my question, just like his magic trick.. why rubbing a plastic pen through your hair pick up little bits of paper in science?" you smirked

After all the chaos of rumors, misunderstandings, and awkward moments, it felt good to share those light-hearted memories with them. You glanced over at Jeongin, who was peeking into your classroom with a playful grin, and your heart swelled with happiness.

As the day wound down, you couldn’t help but think: After all the mess and everything, life is good. You had your friends, your job, and most importantly, you had Jeongin—your partner in crime and your forever accomplice in laughter.

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

an: thank you for reading. a heart, reblog, and comment is very much appreciated

(randomly mentioning some jeongin stans. thankyou)

masterlist

[apoptoses]

I’ve been thinking about vampires and cultural norms, and how culture shapes people and their expectations. And it got me thinking about the scene in queen of the damned when Daniel struggles with the burial of his first corpse -

And I've seen divided opinions on whether Armand is being an unkind maker here, or if this was the first warning that maybe Daniel wasn't cut out to handle vampirism well and that his madness was inevitable.

But I've never seen the facts concerning the treatment of the dead throughout history, and that Daniel, up until this point had probably never really seen a corpse.

For every other vampire we'd met in the VC up until this chapter, corpses were part of daily life. And not just in the fact that coming across a body in a medieval city or in a filthy backstreet of 18th century Paris was entirely possible, if not downright unavoidable in times of plague or during the Terror. But also because people of all cultures used to care for and sit with our own dead.

For centuries the loss of a loved one meant the family washing their body, laying it out in the home for relatives and friends to come visit. Death was a fact of life, caring for the corpse was part of the grieving process. Louis would have experienced it with his brother Paul, had the house not fallen into chaos Louis might have pushed Lestat to do the same with his father. Had mortal Armand lost a sibling, or a grandparent, he would have seen their body before burial.

And though embalming has existed for ages, it didn't involve the modern heavy wax makeup applied to the body to help it maintain the semblance of life. It was more about preventing decay during the wake period than distancing viewers from the fact that they're seeing a corpse. In fact when one 18th century mortician made a body look too life-like with his new techniques and displayed it to advertise his practice he received a great deal of criticism.

Plus we've all seen the photos of the victorians with their dead- to have the whole family pose with a body for one last photo was the norm, not the exception. There was nothing disgusting or morbid about it.

At the turn of the 20th century a couple things happened to change all of this in the United States specifically: one was the sudden leap in advances in medicine and germ theory, the other was WWI and WWII.

There was a great book that I read (and that I wish I could remember the name of, if this sounds familiar to anyone please tell me) which went into detail about how the mass casualties of the world wars combined with the new and previously unimaginable injuries wrought to the bodies by new weapons and bombs caused such great psychological trauma that death practices in the US were forever changed.

People no longer wanted to wash, display, and sit with their dead. And changing standards for hygiene and the medicalization of the body meant that the dying no longer remained in the home, that the body was swept up and taken from deathbed to morgue to funeral parlor at much greater speeds than in the past.

So by Daniel's time the American 'wake' had gone from a multi-day at home affair to something carried out in a funeral parlor, with a body embalmed and covered in wax makeup to the point it looks less like a corpse than a wax figure, and where viewers step up to the casket, have a quick glance, and then leave.

And outside of unusual and traumatic circumstances, people just no longer saw bodies. If he had a grandparent pass in the home the body could be collected by the coroner in a matter of a handful of hours. If they passed in a hospital then in all likelihood Daniel would have never seen the body at all up until the moment it was dressed up and put in makeup for the viewing.

(If they had a viewing, and not simply skipped the whole process and went straight to closed casket funeral and cremation)

And this doesn't even begin to go into what happens to the body after death that people of the past would have been aware of, but which is no longer common knowledge now, like the way the bowels go slack and empty themselves. And god knows what a body fully drained of its blood would look like.

So for Daniel to experience shock at handling the body of his first kill is hardly a surprise, given the cultural context he grew up in, or that he seemed to have avoided burying the remains later as we know it had to be impressed upon him to be careful with covering up his kills. And for Armand to assume seeing and handling a dead body should be a normal event that one could handle with some detachment isn't a surprise either- even as a mortal he would have had contact with the dead.

(Plus you add what's going on with Akasha and the burnings and you have a really high pressure situation for everyone involved)

It's a cultural issue in some ways. And one I wish Anne had gotten into with modern, newly made vampires more: the ways we handle guilt, grief, and death are deeply connected to whether we treat death as a part of life or sanitize death and distance ourselves from it.

[tiredfox64]

I had an idea, I don't know how good this sounds but in the beginning of the MK1 story when the Lin Kuei trio attack Madame Bo's restaurant as an act to text Raiden and Kung Lao skills, the reader happens to be there as a traveler who also has fighting skills and fights off Smoke and finds out it's a test by Liu Kang who accepts being one of earthrealm's champions but has a hard time trusting Smoke after what happen and Smoke does everything he can to gain her trust?

Trust Me

Prior notes: Halfway through writing this the Ninja Storm theme song played in my head nonstop. I got distracted for an hour just listening to almost all the Power Rangers theme songs Σ(￣。￣ﾉ)ﾉ

Pairing: Tomas x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: A few kicks and punches, we got those from our siblings.

You travel high and low, far and wide. The lands must be explored and experienced. Your current location? Fengjian Village in China. Quite a peaceful village actually with farmlands that stretch for many miles. You decided to rest for a moment at the tea house. Madame Bo was really nice to you, happy to have a lovely lady like you come in.

Little did you know that she was expecting you.

Lots of different people and personalities around here. You got a show as well. Two men fighting just to figure out who is paying tonight. It must have been serious because they were fighting for their lives. You can understand since the food was amazing.

The sun had set and the cool breeze blew through the tea house. You were finishing up your meal at the same time those two men were about to. In an instant the atmosphere became hostile. You looked up to see a man with silvery hair and gray attire harassing Madame Bo. You watched carefully, wary of this guy’s intentions. You jumped into action once you saw him attack Madame Bo and literally throw her over the balcony.

His eyes turned to you when he saw you running towards him. You were surprised by the smoke bomb he threw down. It made you cough which gave him the opportunity to attack you, causing you to hit the floor.

“You are brave, but against us? You are in over your head.�� He mocked you.

“I don’t care who you are or what your purpose is. You will not be a nuisance to Madame Bo.” You declared before fighting him.

You fought viciously, as anyone would suspect. This guy had a few tricks up his sleeve. Magic that you’ve never seen before. Yet you stood your ground. While you were dealing with him those other two guys were fighting off the other assassins. Oh great there are two more who got some sort of freaky magic. Well at least they are taking care of that.

An amazing spectacle of kicking, punching, and slashing was performed by you and your opponent. After all that you managed to defeat him, leaving him lying on the ground. You moved quickly to check on Madame Bo who was…fine. No, really, she was. Standing up straight and smoking a cigarette like it was a normal Tuesday night. A man with glowing eyes approached you and you finally got the answers you needed.

This was all a test from Lord Liu Kang. You, Raiden, and Kung Lao were chosen to join Earthrealm’s champions. Liu Kang was thankful that you chose to visit Fengjian now since it made things easier.

He explained that the people who attacked were the Lin Kuei and that you fought Tomas aka Smoke. They weren’t thugs but were actually a clan that helped protect Earthrealm. You were still in shock about the whole thing. You couldn’t let your guard down fully even if you now know it was a test.

Liu Kang told you all that the Wu Shi Acadamy will help train you and prepare for the Mortal Kombat tournament. Looks like you will be staying in China for longer than you expected.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Ever since Tomas fought you he has been dying to talk to you. He thought you did amazing. He really didn’t know what to expect since you were just a traveler. No one had a clue who trained you or even why you were so good at fighting. You must have been a quick thinker since you manage to figure out he was using smoke magic.

The problem is that you were cold to him. You still didn’t trust him even after finding out it was all a test. He would visit the Wu Shi Academy just to get a chance to talk to you, only for you to move away from him whenever you saw a hint of his silvery hair.

Raiden and Kung Lao told you to not hold it over his head. Madame Bo is safe. Hell, she was even in the Lin Kuei once, she’s a tough woman. Nope, you’re still not budging.

“I don’t understand, Raiden. She still treats me like some thug.” Tomas expresses his frustration to Raiden who wants to help make peace between you two.

“It probably didn’t feel good to her to be tricked like that. It may be best to prove to her that she can trust you.” Raiden gave back the best advice he could give.

“But what can I do if I can’t even get close to her.”

Raiden had to think for a moment. The others such as Kung Lao, Johnny, and Kenshi all came around as well since they heard Tomas’ frustration. They didn’t want him feeling bad about what he did since he was instructed to cause a disturbance at the tea house. They also don’t want you holding a grudge against a sweet and cool guy like Tomas.

“I got it!” Kung Lao snapped his fingers, “How about you train with us for some time. She will see that you aren’t so bad after all especially when she sees how calm you are when fighting us. Maybe giving her a gift once in a while will help as well.”

Not a bad plan. It could work. Tomas was on board with this. He didn’t want you viewing him as some thug anymore. You need to see who he truly is and he will do anything to prove it. Operation make you trust Tomas is a go go!

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Tomas asked his brother if it was okay to train with the Shaolin for a bit. Bi-Han couldn’t give two fucks where Tomas would be at so he let him do that.

Now you really couldn’t avoid Tomas. Anytime you decided to train with the other champions he was always there. You grew annoyed by his presence. You couldn’t understand why no one else was upset by that trick of a test.

You also couldn’t understand why he was leaving you bunches of lavender and peace lilies. Okay well the peace lilies should have been a big sign but you weren’t the biggest expert on flowers or their meanings. He would leave them at your door, on your chair, he would even have the guys pass you the flowers just to make sure you would accept them.

And after some time you did. It would be a waste if you kept throwing them out. They were lovely and lavender is useful. You didn’t fully trust him yet but his efforts were chipping away at your stubborn heart.

You started watched as he trained with the others. All those fighting moves you saw before when you fought him. The aggression you felt before when seeing those moves slowly started to fade. You watched as he patiently taught the others some tricks on how to defend themselves. Not just that but he was open to being taught as well. The monks taught him new moves and involved him in meditation. Now would a violent person meditate? Nope, because Tomas is not the violent person you think he is.

You realized maybe you were being a bit too harsh when you heard him speak. His voice was less deeper than when you first heard it. It was just an impression anyways. And without his mask on there is no muffle to it. You listened to how disappointed he was, concerned that you still don’t trust him. He expressed that he is doing his best but he fears that you will always see him as the bad guy.

It broke your heart when you realized you misjudged him. He was putting in a lot of effort and you were turning a blind eye to it before. You don’t know how long he will be training with the Wu Shi and you don’t want to regret not saying anything to him. You want to make things right and the best way to do that was to talk to him.

One day you found him near the zen gardens. A place of relaxation and peace. A good atmosphere for something like this. He was meditating all by himself and you were unsure about disturbing him. He already heard your footsteps, you can’t sneak up on a sneaky person. He turned towards you expecting to see someone like Raiden or Johnny. But no, it was actually you. He was shocked and wasn’t sure what you were doing here. You gently waved towards him before speaking.

“Hi…do you mind if I join you?” You asked softly.

Tomas just stared for a good five seconds before breaking out of his trace. “O-oh yeah sure.”

You thanked him before walking closer. You surprised him even more when you described to sit next to him. Both your hearts were beating fast. Yours because you were unsure of what to say and his because of the same thing. You took a few deep breaths before speaking up.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been kind of cold to you. Maybe even been avoiding you. I just kept thinking back to that night at the tea house and I just thought you were the same guy I fought back then.”

You saying sorry was already the highlight of Tomas’ day. Before he can say anything to you, even to apologize for fighting you, you continued.

“You don’t have to apologize for what happened. I understand it was just a test and no one really got hurt. Well, maybe not physically but I did hurt you by being mean.”

You were picking at your fingers as you looked down at your lap. Now you wondered if he thought of you as the bad person. He doesn’t, he never did.

“We got off on the wrong foot and I want to make it right. Maybe you and I can train one of these days if you are willing to spend time with me.”

“Yes! Yes! Of course I would love to.” Tomas got too excited and covered his mouth, not wanting to disturb the tranquility of the garden anymore.

You looked at him all shocked before chuckling quietly. He really was desperate to show you that he is trustworthy. Seeing that it all paid off was too great for him that he had to express it. How could you ever imagine he was some cruel man who purposely beats up old ladies?

Your chuckle made him feel less embarrassed and happy to see you loosen up around him. You seem way chiller than he imagined. He’s excited to get to know you more now. You took his hand into yours and shook it.

“It’s nice to officially meet you, Smoke.”

He smiled at you. The mission was a success. All of this was worth it.

“The pleasure is all mine. But please, call me Tomas.”

After notes: It’s a bad time for me to find out that my favorite show is free on YouTube. Mhm I’m gonna be blasting that good shit on my tv. Anyways I hope you enjoy whoever requested it. I actually thought about this scenario a bit ago but never wrote it down and forgot about it. So looks like you read my mind. Trust me it sounded good to me :3. Adiós!

[kleefkruid]

@cea-tide Yeah we have the largest amount of cocaine and some other stuff of Europe running through our port so criminals from all over hang out here and they don't get along of course

It's all infighting so if you or your family aren't involved in it you don't really run any risk. They mainly attack each others buissinesses and residences with bombs made of fireworks explosives which is of course very noticable to the general public.

In my block personally there has been a shooting (rare bc of the lack of access to guns and also bc then you have evidence (the weapons) on you while the bomb you can just leave behind) and one of my neighbors got his door blown out by an explosive and that one I did hear, suprisingly distinct sound, I was lying in bed and immediately thought "oh that's a bomb for sure"

But it occurs so frequently that everyone has experienced at least one, whenever the news comes through I just look on the map to see who lives nearby and it really averages out. A while back there was one in my friends street and I texted him "hope your windows didn't get blown out by that bomb xoxo" and he texted back "what bomb how do you know this before me" bc he somehow slept through it lmao

But yeah it's just like, a regular part of life and the only risk to the average person is window damage as I mentioned and also your favorite pita place closing bc someone blew it up

Oh and rural folk who aren't caught up in the whole thing will ask you if you're afraid of your house being blow up and you have to be like Sandra I am not a highly positioned member in the cocaine trade we would not have come to this babtism in a shitty rental car if we were

[1arkspur-aconitum]

SOULS OF POETS (s.r.)

SOULS OF POETS DEAD AND GONE, WHAT ELYSIUM HAVE YOU KNOWN?

[PART ONE OF THREE]

IN WHICH: Spencer discovers more about Juniper’s previous work history, and it is not to his taste.

PAIRING: Season3!Spencer Reid/Fem!BAU!OC

CATEGORY: angst

CONTENT: strip-clubs, common BAU violence, the team being little shits, established secret relationship, Spencer being mean, not a happy ending (in this part at least)

WORD COUNT: 8k… (I got a bit carried away)

PUBLISHED: 16/10/24

TO SAY THIS ISN’T HOW I was expecting today to go would be an understatement.

Sure, we end up on some of the most bizarre cases in the FBI, but the chances of this happening are slim to none—I am not Dr. Reid, so I am unable to give you an exact statistic, but I reckon it would be in the 1:1 bajillion ballpark.

Normally the cases are bizarre because of M.O., or because the people we deal with are strange; I still remember that one interview Emily and I had with that frankly absurd woman with way too many garden gnomes inside her house. Or the time Derek and I found a dude in his bath, stark naked, the tub filled with what I have told myself was milk, and have refused to ponder any other possibilities since.

All that to say, we get weird shit at the BAU.

Yet when I walked in this morning and saw the photos, and read the case file, I was more nervous for this than I had been for any bomb or kidnapping case.

To the others, it looks perfectly average. Localised crime scene, moderately high-risk victims, a clear comfort zone. New York City isn’t far from D.C and we have a good relationship with the police working on the case already. Seems simple enough.

But even as I sit on the plane, knees up to my chest, I still feel as if I can’t take a proper breath. As I try to force myself to take one, I catch Emily’s concerned glance from across the aisle. She knows me too well.

I clear my throat and force myself to adjust. Dropping my knees underneath the table, I spread the photos across the table in front of me. Women’s bodies–hands and feet removed–shoved into the bins out the back of a strip of clubs ranging from gay bars, to strip joints, to your average night-out with the girls club.

Shoved into bins. Nothing better than rubbish.

To my left, Spencer is busy pouring over a map of the NYC suburbs. He’s armed with his favourite set of coloured pens, slender fingers idly tapping the lid on his chin as he thinks it over. Spencer, as always, looks adorable. Messy hair, loose tie, those cheekbones–the little furrow he gets between his eyebrows when he’s thinking. With his lips parted in focus, I can’t help but let my knee press against his under the table.

He smiles privately, not once looking up from his map. It’s the only concession to tenderness he’ll give me at work. The only one he can whilst we’re keeping our relationship hidden from the team.

‘So, when we land, I want us to hit the ground running,’ Hotch announces, drawing all of our attention to him. He looks at us gravely in turn. ‘We have to handle this one with tact, especially considering the subject matter–JJ and Rossi, I want you guys to head to the police station and help us get set up.’

‘That should be fun.’ Rossi says without a trace of humour in his tone. ‘The local police always get antsy about us treating these cases like they’re important–’

‘They are important.’ The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, sounding a lot harsher than I originally intended. Rossi stops mid sentence. All eyes turn to me. Flushing, I pick at my fingernails as Spencer jostles my knee gently. ‘I’m sorry. It just pisses me off that people treat them like they aren’t.’

‘I know that, but the local police don't always.’ Rossi reminds me gently, flashing me the palms of his hands. A classic sign of apology. I incline my head and don’t say anything else. Emily is still watching me from across the aisle with those perceptive eyes of hers. ‘So JJ and I will do our best to get them on board.’

‘The rest of us are going to head to the main club that’s been targeted,’ Hotch has an air of disapproval in his tone, sending me a quick glare to remind me that I am the source of his anger. I sink lower into my seat, biting my lips shut. I shouldn’t have said anything at all. ‘See what we can find out about the place, the locals.’

‘Are you okay?’ Spencer murmurs to me under his breath a few moments later. The rest of the team have devolved back into their previous conversations, so the sweetness in his voice isn’t as easily detected. He is looking at me with those annoyingly perceptive, wide brown eyes. It’s like he’s peering deep into my skin and I don’t like it.

‘What? Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?’ I close myself off, folding my arms and trying to work some of the tension out of my jaw. I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s not Spencer’s fault, and even genius Spencer Reid doesn’t have all of the pieces to finally puzzle this together.

‘I don’t know…is it because we’re going to New York City?’

‘What’s made you think I don’t like New York?’

‘Well…I know you lived there for a while after you dropped out of Cornell–’

‘I took a break from Cornell, I went back eventually.’ I scowl at him, brushing some loose strands of hair away from my face. Spencer quirks his eyebrows but I can tell he’s laughing internally at me. ‘I completed that degree, thank you very much. I just…’

‘You just what?’ He bumps his warm shoulder gently against mine.

‘This case…’ I pick up a picture of one of the bins–the woman inside has her legs spread, blood crusted around where her feet used to be, the short skirt she was wearing shoved up around her hips. She seems so painfully familiar. ‘There’s something…there’s something personal about it.’

The next time I look at Spencer, his lips are slightly pursed, eyes narrowed. If I were to lean in, I’m ninety percent sure that I could hear the cogs in his brain working. The idea of Spencer finding out concerns me more than I want it to. Rechecking my microexpressions, I plaster on a mildly bored smile. He doesn’t believe it. I can tell immediately. Yet he still can’t put a pin on why I’m lying.

‘I feel bad,’ I say, doing my best to pace the words to a steady, ordinary beat. ‘These women are as deserving of respect as anyone else, and yet somehow they always end up being the ones covered in rubbish.’

Spencer nods slowly, apparently satisfied with this, but the narrowness to his usually wide eyes doesn’t fully lift. I can tell that I have not heard the last of this. Spencer Reid is nothing if not persistent–at least he won’t have to wait long to find out, because I know that as soon as we get off the plane, I’m on a deadline. An hourglass with only a teaspoon of sand left.

I lean back into the seat and wait to meet my terrible fate.

Elysium is everything you would expect from a strip-club.

Bleak and unassuming exterior, with one door manned by a beefy looking security guard, and several cameras aimed at the entrance. Inside it’s dark and seedy, the walls painted black to better enhance the vibrant colours of the strobe lights. They pulse in time to the music; a classic pop song I recognise, pumped through massive speakers at an almost deafening volume. The beat is so nostalgic I resist the urge to tap my foot.

We step into the main room and my heart stammers. It’s still laid out the same–a big raised platform at the back of the room with three poles, two currently in use. The women curve around the silver poles, the low lights slicking off of their curves. There’s a catwalk down the centre with a few loose notes blanketing it like leaves. The door to the right with the big neon ‘PRIVATE’ sign above it sits resolutely locked. The extensive bar has several scantily dressed women lean against it, talking to the patrons. It’s so familiar that I am suddenly twenty one again, walking into this place for the first time.

‘Can I help you?’ A voice says and I drag my attention from the bar.

The lady talking to Hotch hasn’t changed either. She’s still got that impossibly divine smooth skin, but she’s swapped the belly button piercing since I last saw her. It’s now a golden teardrop embellished in green that swings as she moves. Long dreads hang down to her waist and she’s dressed in the little gold number she always saved for big payouts. She must be planning on scoring high tonight. Despite myself, I let my face split into a broad smile.

‘Yes, actually could–’ Hotch starts, pointedly looking at her face rather than the rest of her body. Spencer is trying not to look at her breasts and failing–and I don’t think Derek even makes the attempt to be discreet. He’s like a kid in a sweet shop. The woman lifts her hand to silence him, brown eyes settling onto mine.

‘No fucking way.’ Tia takes two steps towards me, vibrant eyes scouring my figure. The last time she saw me, I would have been caught dead in a pair of suit trousers and a button down, yet here I am. I flare my arms away from my body, as if to say ‘yes way’. ‘June–Junebug!’

‘Hi, Tia.’ I laugh as she throws herself at me. Her strong arms wrap around my shoulders and she presses her body tightly against mine. The team is openly ogling at me as the stripper gives me the biggest, friendliest hug ever. I don’t look at them, though, face buried in her neck. She smells like cigarette smoke and vetiver perfume. ‘I’m afraid this isn’t a friendly visit.’

‘Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.’ Tia grins, gesturing at the gun holstered at my hip before she grabs me again. When she speaks next, she shakes me to punctuate each word. ‘Ugh, I’m so glad to see you! You don’t visit us enough, and you said you would.’

‘I know, T, I’m sorry.’ I extricate myself from her arms, wincing awkwardly at my team. I feel very exposed. There will be time for explanations later, though, and right now I’m busy basking in the warmth of an old friend. She’s right. I haven’t visited nearly as often as I said I would. Regret seeps through my pores. ‘We’re here to ask some questions about the murders that have been going on?’

‘Oh, of course.’ Tia immediately loses the air of excitement, brow furrowing. She inspects the team as a whole again, noting the way they’re looking between us with a curious air. When she looks back at me, she raises a quizzical brow. I shake my head–explanations later. Tia, ever the saint, doesn’t push the issue. ‘Come on, do you want to head to the back office? I’ll get some of the girls together but Harold is already in there, waiting to talk to you.’

‘Harold still works here?’ I blink, surprised.

‘Yeah, he does–his hip is bothering him more now, but he’s still kickin’,’ Tia loops her arm through mine and starts to lead me through the strip club. I can hear the sounds of my team whispering behind me as they fall into line, but I pointedly ignore them. Nosy buggers. ‘You would know that if you came to visit.’

‘I already feel guilty about it,’ I knock her with my elbow. ‘No need to make me feel worse.’

‘I’m just glad you’re here now.’ Tia presses a sticky, lip gloss kiss to my cheek as we stop by another inconsequential door. It’s been painted black to match the walls, designed to be unobserved by the patrons. The amount of secret spaces in this place is unprecedented, rat runs sprawling through the bowls of Elysium. It took me months to learn where all the nooks and crannies were. I scowl petulantly. ‘You remember where you’re going?’

‘Of course, I mean, how could I forget?’ I flash her my cheekiest of grins.

I cross my arms as I wait for the team to catch up with us, leaning back against the wall.

Derek is currently casually flirting with one of the barmaids–someone I do not recognise–which doesn’t surprise me. Hotch is scouring the layout of the place, pointedly avoiding looking at the half-naked women gyrating around poles, or meandering around laps.

Emily has that shit-eating grin on her face, striding towards me and Tia, and Spencer is staring down at his hands as he follows in Emily’s wake.

Thinking about it, I wonder if Spencer has ever even stepped foot in a strip club before. It doesn’t seem like his kind of vibe, but you never know. Spencer is always full of surprises.

‘I’m gonna get Jas, she’ll die when she sees you.’ Tia grins as Emily arrives, bouncing off into the crowd. Tia has always been my favourite; she was the one who took me under her wing when I first arrived at Elysium, who gave me a place to stay when I didn’t have anywhere. The fact that she’s still here hurts my heart like a bruise. We always said we’d get out together.

‘You, ma’am, have a lot of explaining to do.’ Emily grins at me when she gets within earshot, grabbing my elbow. She loves this.

‘There isn’t much to explain,’ I try, but then Derek appears on my other side and I know I am done for. ‘Seriously.’

‘What, so you’re just casually friends with strippers?’

‘What’s wrong with being friends with strippers?’ I retort, turning pleading eyes to Spencer.

Spencer Reid looks as uncomfortable as possible–his shoulders are tense, hand to his lips, that slight frown between his eyebrows. He’s physically trying to make himself smaller by curving his shoulders inwards. Whenever someone nearly naked walks past him, he deliberately makes a lot of space. If his eyeline drifts for more than a few seconds, he’s instantly staring down at his feet again, cheeks blazing red hot. When he meets my gaze, though, he cannot hide the subtle hint of interest. It becomes clear that Spencer is not the person I should look to for help.

Balls.

‘Hey, you know I’m not complaining–’

‘Shut up, Derek, you’re just salty because she kissed me.’ I shove him in the chest, realising I’m not going to get any help from anyone involved. I’m on my own. Turning away from them, I rap on the door. ‘I can feel your stupid grin, Morgan–and yours too, Prentiss.’

‘Ooo, the last names, someone means business.’ Emily teases, but a voice from inside the room invites us in, and I take this as my saving grace.

I open the door to the small back office, holding it wide with my foot so the rest of my team can trickle in. The office is relatively small, lined with filing cabinets, and manned by a desk covered in papers and an overflowing ashtray. Someone has replaced the wooden chairs with two comfier looking arm chairs, though they still look slightly weathered in the dim light. The ceiling fan above is still laden with cobwebs and dust, perpetually unused. Yet another thing that hasn’t changed.

Once the door is shut behind us, I turn my attention to the man sitting behind the desk.

‘June?’ Harold spots me first, his Texan voice thickened by tar and smoke. He has more wrinkles around his eyes now, but the smile is as blinding as the last time I saw it. Harold’s beard is streaked with white, and when he pushes himself to his feet, the silver cane is new, too. ‘Junebug? Is that really you?’

‘Alive and in the flesh.’ I smile, reaching out to hug him as he hobbles towards me. Harold was the one who gave me that moniker barely two days after I started working here. There’s something about the way he says it that doesn’t make me feel like he’s being condescending–in fact, it just reminds me that someone loves me enough to say a nickname with such adoration. I wrap my arms around him and hold on tightly. I try not to focus on how he feels thinner underneath me.

‘So,’ Harold says, stepping away from me but not letting go of my waist–I don’t know if it’s for support or just for show. I don’t really mind either way. He inspects the rest of my team, who are standing awkwardly around. None of them can hide the thinly veiled amusement from their faces, nor the bright curiosity. ‘These your friends?’

‘Yup.’ I nod, not meeting any of their eyes. There’s too much going on right now. Shame is a powerful emotion and even though I know I shouldn’t feel it, I can’t exactly control my own brain. ‘Uh, SSA Hotchner, Prentiss, and Morgan–and that’s Dr. Reid looking uncomfortable in the corner. We’re with the FBI.’

‘The FBI huh?’ Harold affixes me with that appraising stare before pushing away from me. I follow him, keeping my arm out for support. He plops himself down in his chair and leans back. Waggles his cane at me. ‘I never thought one of my best dancers would make it up into the big leagues like that. Good on you, Junebug.’

And there it is.

It takes Spencer about three seconds to process that information. About two times faster than it does for anyone else in the room. I can see the realisation burning red hot behind his brown eyes when he jerks them to me. I can’t hide my expression quickly enough–my blink is all he needs to confirm what Harold said. Spencer’s eyes cloud for a second, lips parted.

When he cocks his head curiously, I can tell exactly what he’s thinking. What he’s imagining in that brain of his. What a little shit. When his eyes focus again, he sees my look of disapproval and flushes. Then, his expression changes–closes off. Becomes unreadable. It’s an annoying talent he has and one of the most frustrating things about him.

‘Thanks, H.’ I clear my throat, ignoring the mercilessly gleeful grin on Emily’s face. ‘Guys, this is Harold, he’s the manager here–if something happened, Harold is the one who’s most likely to know about it.’

‘You were a stripper?’ Derek blurts out. Of course he would be the one to ask first. It just encourages Emily, though. Soon enough, both of them are peppering me with questions like they’re rubber bullets.

‘How long did you work here?’

‘Yeah–were you good?’

‘Why didn’t you tell us?’

‘Do you still dance?’

‘Was she good?’ Derek directs this last question to Harold, evidently not satisfied with my silence.

‘Jesus Christ, guys, it’s not exactly relevant, is it?’ I snap, feeling a familiar burn of anger and shame. Spencer has remained, thankfully, silent, but is watching me with that blank expression. It’s unsettling. ‘Can we focus? I’ll answer your questions later, we’re here about several murders, let’s not get distracted by the fact that I used to be a stripper.’

‘You ain’t told ‘em till just now?’ Harold says from his seat, voice tinged with amusement and something that strikes me too much as sorrow. When I look at him, he’s surprisingly sad. It hurts me right in the centre of my chest. ‘I can understand that. There ain’t any shame in it, though, Junebug. You loved it here. Sure, you were at rock-bottom, but e’ryone who comes here is. It’s an absolute joy to see you doin’ somethin’ fulfillin’.’

‘Stop it, Harold,’ I say, the words choked somewhere in the back of my throat. A tingling sensation behind my nose threatens to make me sob. His words carve away at something within me, a part of me I haven’t thought about since…well, since I left Elysium. Avoiding looking at the others, I step around to the withered old man. Rest my hand on his shoulder. The next words are a breath of sadness. ‘Thank you.’

He understands that that’s not just for his words today. It’s for everything.

Harold gives me that sad smile again and rests his own hand on top of mine. It’s a connection I haven’t had in a while–Harold always reminded me of my father. Seeing him again is like seeing the ghost of my dad. I can’t afford to break down in front of the others, not when we’re here for a job, so blink furiously at the silver lining around my eyes. I plaster a smile on.

‘Bishop,’ Hotch says, voice low and measured. His words are not unkind and he is the only one out of the entire team that does not look disturbed, surprised, or horrified. Realistically, Hotch probably already knew this about me. I imagine it’s on my file somewhere. ‘If you need to go to the police station, you can. We can handle the questions here.’

‘It’s alright,’ I say, taking a deep breath and schooling my features. I do my best to forget where I am, who I am with–I try to become Dr. Bishop, the FBI agent working on a case that she has no personal connection to. ‘I can do it. Besides, I think Tia might kill me if I leave before she can accost me again.’

‘Alright, then.’ Hotch nods briskly, and the questioning begins.

Hotch leads it, as usual, Derek and Emily still staring at me with those aghast expressions. I don’t care about them, though. Whilst Hotch and Harold discuss the recent murders (three of the girls had been new dancers at Elysium, some of them regulars) and if Harold saw anything suspicious (a few odd cars, but most people who come here are unusual or strange), I keep my eyes trained on Spencer. I want to see what his reaction is, to gauge if I should start thinking about damage control.

He’s busy scouring the room, taking at each of the pictures on the wall. They're all of the dancers Harold has employed. I’m up there somewhere. I wonder if that’s what Spencer is looking for. He stands with one arm across his lower stomach, the other brought up to his chest. Long fingers rub the sharpness of his jaw idly. His eyes work furiously across the walls, committing everything to memory.

Spencer has always been good at disguising his microexpressions, so I doubt that I can ever truly work out what he is thinking from just observing him. The blankness hasn’t gone from him.

I hope he’s relaxed, though, and not severely freaked out. I have no idea what I would do if he was severely freaked out.

‘Hey, Junebug!’ Tia’s melodic voice cuts through my panic crisis-prepping brain fog as she steps into the room, making Spencer jump. I turn to look and see that my gorgeous friend is dragging yet another gorgeous friend into the office. The other girl is tall, willowy, with ice-blonde hair that she’s been carefully maintaining since I knew her. She is wearing a pair of thigh-high blue boots and the tiniest lingerie set I have ever seen. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting, this one was a nightmare to find.’

‘It’s true!’ Jas squeaks, her eyes widening as she lays them on me. I barely have enough time to process her being there before she launches herself at me. Despite the fact that she is all bone, Jas is surprisingly strong, and squeezes her arms around my neck. ‘I can’t believe you’re here. It’s been so long, what the fuck, June, where have you been?!’

‘Whoa, there, Jas,’ Tia chuckles, gripping Jas by the shoulders and extricating her from me. Grateful, I rub the spot where Jas’s acrylic nails dug into my skin. ‘Give her some breathing space. She’s with the FBI, silly, didn’t you hear me say that?’

‘You’re such a bitch.’ Jas scowls at me as she shakes Tia off, and hits me hard in the upper arm. I yelp in pain, staring at her with an affronted look. She pats the spot where she hit me apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, I just missed you.’

‘No need to get violent.’ I remind her, turning her around to face the rest of my team. ‘We’re here to ask you some questions about the recent murders?’

‘FBI?’ Jas scans my team, her eyes widening as they sweep over each member. Her gaze lingers on Spencer, and I can see the familiar glint of interest sparking in her eyes. She lets out a long, low, appreciative whistle that seems to echo around the small office. I can tell immediately what’s going through her mind, and I brace myself for what is about to happen. Jas angles her head like a cat watching a bird. Her posture shifts. ‘Well, hello there. Aren’t you the most handsome man I’ve ever seen?’

Spencer’s reaction is immediate and intense. His face flushes a deep crimson, the blush spreading down underneath his collar when he realises that she is talking to him. His eyes, wide with surprise and discomfort, immediately lock desperately on me. The way he shifts his weight from foot to foot, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, is so endearingly awkward that I can’t help but find it utterly adorable.

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing as I watch Jas saunter seductively towards him, hips swaying with each step.

‘Jasmine,’ I interject, my voice is thick with warning, hoping that that hides the jealousy I’m feeling as she begins to circle Spencer like a shark. She trails a hand across the back of his shoulders and I have to resist the urge to physically remove it. Only I am allowed to touch Spencer like that. ‘Behave, please. That’s my colleague.’

What I really want to say is ‘that’s my boyfriend you’re pawing at’, but I can’t. Not when the team is standing right there, watching with varying degrees of amusement. The secret aspect of our relationship hasn’t bothered me as much as it does right now. I don’t know what to do.

‘Oh, come on, Junebug, you’ve never been a prude.’ Jas flashes me a familiar, mischievous grin as she casually straightens Spencer’s collar from behind, her nails scraping across his shirt. I know that expression–I’ve seen it on her several times before she scores a big payout, and Jas always scores big. Bitter jealousy twists in the base of my stomach. ‘If I remember correctly, you would have been all over this one a few years ago. Let me have my fun. What’s your name, handsome?’

‘I–I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.’ He stammers, bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he finds the ceiling very interesting. I can practically feel the heat radiating from him. Part of me wants to intervene, to yank her away from him and put an end to this little performance. But another part, a part I am decidedly not proud of, wants to see what Spencer will do. It’s a test of sorts, though I am not sure what I am testing or why.

‘Dr. Spencer Reid.’ Jas purrs, drawing out each syllable as if it’s fine wine. She completes her predatory circle to stand in front of Spencer, giving me an excellent view of her pert behind. It’s not exactly hidden in the thong she’s donned. She twists a stray strand of his hair around her finger. Spencer flinches away from her touch, and I can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy. I want to tell her to back off but Derek’s amused expression stops me. ‘A doctor–you’ve always loved a man with brains, Junebug. So, Spencer, what brings you to Elysium? Looking for some extracurricular studies?’

‘We–we’re here about the, the recent murders…’ Spencer chokes out, his voice strained and higher than usual. He’s still staring resolutely at the ceiling, as if trying to solve some complicated mathematical equation etched into the plaster.

‘Yes, we are.’ Hotch cuts in, his voice taking on a sharp and authoritative tone. He places a firm hand on Spencer’s shoulder, effectively creating a barrier between him and Jasmine. I feel a rush of gratitude towards my Unit Chief for doing what I could not. ‘We’re hoping you could help us by answering some questions, not by accosting a Federal Agent.’

‘I suppose.’ Jas pouts dramatically, but there is a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. She knows she’s pushed the boundaries a little bit too far. Her shoulders slump in defeat, but she turns back to Spencer. ‘I guess I can behave. But only if the good doctor here promises to buy me a drink. What do you say, gorgeous? Care to hear some stories about our Junebug’s wilder days?’

‘I will buy you that drink, Jasmine.’ I interject quickly, my words coming out harsher than intended. My hand shoots out, curling around her upper arm as I tug her a few steps away from Spencer. I fix her with a stern look, eyebrow raised in silent warning. ‘Leave Spencer alone.’

‘Fine, June, you absolute spoil sport.’ She hisses at me, but there’s no real venom in her tone. If anything, there’s a hint of amusement, as if she’s enjoying this power play. It wouldn’t surprise me. ‘Why don’t all of us go out for a drink, then, if I can’t have Spencer by himself?’

‘Can we focus, please?’ I sigh, not liking the way both Emily and Derek have perked up upon hearing the possibility of getting the juicy information about my ‘wilder days’ as Jasmine so kindly phrased it. ‘We are here on official business–we can gossip later, alright?’

‘Alright, alright, message received.’ Jas rolls her eyes but finally relents. She sits down on Harold’s desk, looking expectantly up at us. ‘Ask away.’

‘Don’t think you can escape, Juniper Bishop.’

Balls.

I turn around sheepishly, one hand on the door to my hotel room. I was so close. If I hadn’t stopped to stock up on snacks, I might have escaped, might have managed to prolong the inevitable until I felt ready to face it. That’s the unfortunate thing about the inevitable, though. It always comes around eventually.

There, standing at the end of the corridor, are Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, and JJ. I only need to take one look at the blonde to realise that they have already dobbed me in, and have caught her up to speed about what happened at Elysium. They stand there like hunters spotting prey and knowing it has nowhere else to run.

‘Seriously, guys? Now?’ I sigh, leaning against the doorframe and readjusting the snacks in my arms–the vending machine was limited, but it had Oreos, and that’s good enough for me. Hair falls into my face as I hang my head. ‘I was just gonna watch a film and go to sleep…’

‘Not happening.’ Emily announces, striding over to me and grabbing my upper arm. ‘We’re going to the bar.’

‘The bar?’ I say, dragging my feet but letting her lead me over to the others. I don’t like the way they are looking at me. I feel like a student being dragged to the headmaster’s office for a scolding. ‘We haven’t solved the case yet, surely it’s a bad idea to drink on the job?’

‘Then order a soda.’ JJ grips my other arm and they frog march me towards the top of the stairs.

‘Guys.’ I whine, trying to dig my heels into the plush carpet, and failing spectacularly. It’s no use. I am dragged rather roughly down the stairs and towards the hotel bar, my protests falling on deaf ears. ‘Come on, this is ridiculous–’

‘What’s going on?’

‘Spencer, save me!’ I call, looking over my shoulder to spot my handsome boyfriend by the lift, his head angled curiously as he witnesses what is essentially my death march. JJ and Emily take no prisoners, though, and continue to haul me towards the bar.

‘We’re just gonna ask her some questions, that’s all.’ Derek says, talking to Spencer as if he’s just found out that I am a suspect in a gruesome murder. Spencer blinks, confused, and starts to trail after us. ‘Care to join?’

When we reach the bar, I am deposited unceremoniously into a booth, being wedged in by Emily and opposed by JJ. Derek and Spencer don’t take long to join us, the former drifting off towards the bar with a firm warning not to start without him. The latter sits down beside JJ. I glare at them, arms folded across my chest, Oreos abandoned on the table.

‘You brought this upon yourself, you know.’ Emily says, all high and mighty. She rests her elbows on the bar and cocks her head at me. ‘I mean, I knew there was something…different about you, but this? This is not what I was expecting.’

‘Oh my God.’ I groan, staring down at the table rather than at their three pairs of inquisitorial eyes. Spencer’s gaze is the hardest one to avoid and the worst one to meet. He’s guarded his expression so I can’t fully read it, but judging from the way he has his arms crossed, he isn’t going to come to my rescue. Evidently he’s just as curious as the rest of them. ‘Was all this really necessary?’

‘You were the one trying to hole up in your room.’ JJ says with a casual shrug, glancing over to where Derek is paying for a selection of drinks. ‘Forgive us for trying to get to the bottom of this.’

‘There isn’t anything to get to the bottom of!’ I say, voice rising in volume and in pitch. ‘I think you guys are making this out to be worse than it actually is.’

‘Aw, come on, hotstuff, we’re just curious.’ Derek says, putting down a circular black tray in the middle of the table. He divvies off the drinks, placing what suspiciously looks like a G&T in front of me. Despite my earlier reluctance to imbibe, I’m kind of grateful. I might need alcohol to get through this. Once he’s done, he pulls up a stool and heads the table. ‘Can you blame us?’

‘Yes.’ I retort, slumping back in my seat and scowling. ‘Fine. Fine. Ask away.’

‘How come you never told us you used to be a stripper?!’ Emily cuts right to the chase, leaning forward even further. If her eyes could get any wider, they would. She resembles one of those weird marsupials with the long fingers that tap on trees to eat the bugs.

‘It…it never came up.’ I shrug, running my finger along the edge of my glass and glancing at Spencer. He’s still utterly unreadable, stirring the ice around his drink with a straw. He’s watching me carefully, probably looking for any microexpressions or tells–fucker knows me too well at this point. Unlike him, I’ve never been good at hiding things. ‘It’s not exactly something you just casually tell people, especially when you now work for the FBI. It’s…frowned upon.’

‘I suppose I can understand that.’ JJ concedes, taking a sip of her drink. ‘When were you working there?’

‘Oh, maybe, like, five, six years ago?’ I copy her movement, letting the gin blaze down my throat. It’s relaxing.

‘So…was this before or after your PhD?’

‘After. I was in the middle of completing another undergrad at Cornell when…well, when I started to dance.’

‘Another undergrad?’ Derek says, apparently more surprised at my academic achievements than the fact that I used to get naked and dance around for money.

‘Yes, Derek, another one.’ I laugh, sipping my drink again and let myself watch Spencer watching me. ‘I was bored after finishing my PhD and felt like doing another degree–it was psychology, which now that I think about it, is kind of ironic.’

‘So…were you dancing to pay off your debt?’ Emily asks, her curiosity piqued. Her bright brown eyes sparkle with intrigue. I’m apparently the most fascinating thing she has seen in quite some time. ‘I mean, degrees are expensive, were you having money problems?’

‘No, it wasn’t the money.’ I confirm, eyes flickering down to trace the pattern of the wood. I have to be careful here, and I have to choose my words with the utmost precision. God, sometimes talking to these guys feels a lot like sitting an exam. ‘It was…well, there were a lot of things going on, and I felt very out of control. I don’t know, I think dancing gave me the control…and the escape…that I needed.’

‘There are other ways to get control.’ Spencer finally speaks, and I almost flinch at the rawness of his words. When I look at him, he’s staring down into his drink. His tone is laced with disapproval. ‘Why…why would you do something like that?’

‘Don’t get me wrong, I have no shame in it.’ I say, somewhat harsher than intended. ‘I loved dancing. It was empowering and freeing, and brought me a lot of joy. But I started it for the wrong reasons, and unfortunately it facilitated habits I really should have been trying to break rather than…well, rather than indulging.’

‘And, according to Harold, you were good. In fact, I think he said you were one of the best.’ Derek grins cheekily at me, eyes roving over my body. I can see Spencer tense out of the corner of my eye at Derek’s words, his shoulders closing inwards. This is dangerous territory.

‘Stop picturing it, Morgan–never gonna happen.’ I flick an ice cube at him, but laugh to show him I am actually teasing.

‘Wait, really?’ Emily sounds genuinely upset, gaping at me. The concept that Emily Prentiss was actually considering asking me to dance for her blows my mind.

‘Oh, come off it, I’m not gonna strip for my coworkers!’

‘Even if I paid you?’ Derek flirts, leaning towards me and flashing me his characteristic wink.

‘Oh, Derek, sweetheart,’ I let the words roll around my tongue, let them drip seductively from my lips. I focus all of my attention onto him as if he were another patron eager for something from Elysium. My eyes trail slowly across his handsome face, lingering on the firm jaw, sticking to his slightly parted mouth. Derek swallows–hard. He leans in just a little bit more. ‘You wouldn’t be able to afford me.’

‘Damn…’ Derek blinks as if clearing his eyes off water. The others (minus Spencer) are laughing at us, and I join in. Derek, to his credit, moves past it with dignity. ‘Worth a shot, eh.’

‘You’re a pig, Morgan,’ JJ steps to my rescue, sneering at our coworker. ‘What would Garcia say if she could hear that?’

‘Hell, she’d probably ask me to split the cost with her.’ Derek winks at me again, but I don’t indulge him this time. I’m watching Spencer, and my heart is sinking.

He hasn’t touched his drink. It just sits in front of him, condensation forming a ring around the bottom. Spencer is staring down into it as if it’s the most interesting thing he has ever seen, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. I know that if I looked under the table, his hands are most likely either fiddling with the seam of his slacks, or balled in his lap.

He looks…angry. Hurt. Betrayed, almost. I don’t really blame him. It’s a lot to hear, and I should have told him when he asked me about it on the plane. Spencer doesn’t ask for much, but what he does ask for is transparency. Truth.

I don’t know why I didn’t tell him. I want to reach out and touch him, apologise for not mentioning it to him, and apologise for the fact that when I am telling him, it’s surrounded by our coworkers. I can’t reassure him in the way that I want.

What I want to do is hold him and kiss him and tell him that none of the past matters now that my future is his. I have never regretted keeping our relationship underwraps–it works for us, especially considering it’s so new, but…but right now, it sucks.

As I continue to watch him adamantly not looking at me, I wonder if I actually do know the reason why I didn’t tell him. Maybe I didn’t tell him because some small part of me didn’t want him looking at me like that. Like I am dirty, or impure, or whatever disgusting words people use for strippers.

‘So, let me get this straight.’ JJ is saying, seeing off the remainders of her drink. ‘You started dancing because you were in a rough patch. That’s fine. What made you stop?’

‘Hah, my mother.’ My laughter is dry, and I take another sip of my drink. ‘She’s very good at being disappointed. She basically sorted me out, sent me off to complete my undergrad. I haven’t danced since.’

‘Do you miss it?’

‘Sometimes, Em, sometimes.’ I smile at her, trying to squish down any thoughts of Spencer’s upset gaze. ‘I mean, not the sleazy pricks, or the teenagers who don’t know how to listen to boundaries, but I miss my friends–Tia, Jas, Harold–and I miss the freeness of it. If you guys haven’t had some kind of pole class or something, I seriously recommend it.’

‘You could teach us.’ JJ suggests.

I laugh dryly, swilling my drink. ‘You and Emily, sure, but Spencer and Derek on a pole? Could be questionable…’

‘Hey, I’ll have you know I would be a very good stripper!’

‘Whatever you say, Derek.’ I roll my eyes at him but I can’t stop the laughter. I finish off my drink and am very glad that I decided to accept it. Alcohol warms me from the inside. Makes this whole conversation so much easier. ‘So…are you guys satisfied? Can I go to bed–can I eat my Oreos?’

‘No way, Hops, we’re only just getting started.’ Emily grins naughtily at me and gestures for Derek to get another round. Before he can, though, Spencer is already standing and walking away from the table towards the bar without a word. Ouch. It’s clear he’s not very impressed. He hasn’t even finished his drink. ‘We still have so many questions.’

‘Like, did you have a stage name?’

‘What kind of dances did you do? Pole, group, private?’

‘Did you have a signature move?’

‘Do you still have a stripper playlist? If so, can I have it?’

‘Did you ever fall off the pole?’

‘What was the most money you made in one night?’

‘Did you have any regulars? Like, people who came in just to see you?’

‘Did any of them ever try to take you home?’

‘Did you let them?’

‘Oh my God, guys!’ I have to slam my hands on the table to get them to shut up, the words coming in a breathless laugh. I think Derek might have gotten me a double because the alcohol has loosened my tongue and I’m genuinely considering answering them. ‘One question at a time, please.’

It is then that Spencer returns, passing around the drinks quickly. He can’t even look me in the eye as he sits down and goes back to staring into his drink. My mind whirrs with ways to rectify this problem, but it’s not as if I can go back and change the past. Spencer has to come to terms with this on his own merit, and all I can do is wait.

‘Tell us everything.’ Emily gushes, taking a healthy swig of her fresh drink.

‘Everything? Do you think you can handle everything, Spencer?’ I don’t know why I call him out like that. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. I chase the icky feeling away with a swig of another double G&T.

Spencer finally looks up, his eyes meeting mine for the first time in what feels like hours. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze–hurt, maybe? Anger? Perhaps even a hint of arousal. I can’t fully tell, and that scares me. Spencer opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Derek interrupts.

‘Hey, Reid, don’t tell me you’re not curious.’ Derek nudges him playfully, but Spencer doesn’t react. He just continues to stare at me, expression unreadable. I have no idea what that look is trying to say. ‘Come on, man, we all wanna hear about Junebug’s wild past.’

‘Don’t call me that.’ I snap, shaking my head at Derek. I don’t know why, but hearing that old nickname on his tongue upsets me. Derek shows me the palms of his hands in apology and I’m pleased to see that my little outburst has shifted his focus away from Spencer.

‘Come on,’ JJ sighs, cutting Derek and Spencer a curious glare. ‘Tell us everything.’

I hesitate for a moment, taking another drink. How much to reveal? I realise that I am going to have to toe a careful line between what is suitable to tell them, and what I want to take to the grave. They are my friends first, though. Colleagues second. There’s not much point in hiding anymore, not if they still want to go out for drinks with Jas and Tia when we’ve finished the case. There’s no going back.

‘Alright.’ I take a deep breath and start to pull at my fingernails. ‘But don’t judge me, okay?’

‘We promise.’ Emily says, voice so sincere that it almost hurts. She raises her glass in a mock toast, and the others follow suit–even Spencer raises his glass, though his movements are more stilted, eyes clouded with that mixture of emotions I’m driving myself insane trying to decipher.

‘I did dance under a stage name–it was Cassandra, or Cass. I chose it because–’

‘Because of the priestess?’ Spencer’s words are a mere mumble, but I am so attuned into him that I hear him. He’s looking somewhere in the region of my collar, but at least he’s looking at me.

‘Yeah. Precisely. She was this Trojan priestess that was cursed to see the future, but for no one to believe her, but I chose it because of what the name means, etymologically.’

‘Bless you.’ Emily teases, and I roll my eyes. ‘Go on, what does it mean?’

‘The Greek spelling is with a K, so ‘kassos’ means to excel, and ‘andros’ means over men. So her name literally means ‘to excel over men’. I was quite proud of that one.’

‘Damn…and did you? Excel over men?’

‘Oh, yeah.’ I grin, taking a sip. ‘I did a variety of different types of dances–you kind of have to do all of them, really. No favourite moves, a couple of regulars that came in just to watch me, and yes, Emily, I do still have my playlist. To answer your question, Derek, a couple of them tried to take me home, and only one succeeded.’

‘What?’ Spencer’s word is perfectly formed, a bullet that pierces through the alcoholic armour I’d been establishing. I blink in surprise. He is staring at me with his mouth slightly parted, such a betrayed look on his face that I’m cut deep to the core. Spencer had seemed content to stay out of the conversation, but this is perhaps the first sign I get about how he’s actually feeling. ‘You slept with the people you danced for?’

‘Only one, and that was a long time ago–’ I say, wondering how only Spencer can get me feeling so defensive and so eager to alleviate his concerns.

‘It doesn’t matter when it was.’ Spencer’s voice is sharp, but he remains motionless, evidently not wanting to give away too much. The rest of the team are leaning back in their seats to get away from the tense energy now crackling between us. Emily is looking between us with a curious expression. ‘You slept with someone you barely knew, someone who saw you as nothing more than a–’

‘Than a what, Spencer? Go on, say ‘whore’, I know you want to.’ I snap back, slamming my glass down onto the table more violently than intended. Spencer flashes hurt eyes at me. ‘Jesus, Spencer, it’s my life–my old life–and I did what I wanted with it. I don’t need to explain it to you.’

‘No, no, don’t worry,’ Spencer scoffs, voice laced with bitterness. ‘I’ve worked it out. You used to sell your body for money, let men ogle you and touch you and degrade you, and you slept with one of them just because you thought, what, you thought it was fun? That doesn’t make you a stripper, June, that makes you a hooker.’

‘What the fuck, Reid?’ My words are soft, but the meaning is harsh. I’m hurt. I’ve heard those words a thousand times, from a thousand different people, but hearing it from Spencer–my Spencer–sucks the life right out of me. It’s as if it’s the first time I’m hearing it. All I want to do is run away and hide, but I can’t. ‘Don’t talk to me like that. You have no idea what it was like.’

‘Oh, but I do. I’ve seen the crime scenes.’ Spencer’s voice is cold. Clinical. Detached. It breaks my heart a little. ‘I’ve seen what those men do to women like you, I know how they treat you, how they view you. And you willingly put yourself in that position–it’s…it’s disgusting and, and–’

‘Stop it!’ I snap, slamming my hands onto the table. His words hit me like a physical blow, knocking all of the air out of my lungs. My eyes line with silver. I can’t believe he’s saying this to me, I can’t comprehend that he thinks that about me. I rise out of my seat, towering over the table. ‘Stop fucking talking, Reid. How dare you?’

‘Whoa, hey, easy now…’ Emily puts out a warning arm between us and I am suddenly reminded that the rest of the team are there. They have shifty looks on their faces. ‘Let’s all just calm down.’

‘No, actually–actually, I’m done.’ I sigh, seeing off my drink and gesturing for Emily to get out of the booth. ‘I’m leaving. Fuck this.’

I grab my snacks and my phone before pushing out past the rest of them and making a beeline for the door. I can hear their voices call out after me, but I don’t care. Even when I see Spencer rise too, as if making to follow me, I don’t change my trajectory. Thankfully Derek yanks Spencer back down into his seat. At least that’s one less thing to worry about. I stalk out of the bar as quickly as possible.

It’s only when I’m in the lift that I let the hot, salty tears start to fall.

THANK YOU FOR READING! PART TWO CAN BE FOUND HERE.

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfic - Godric’s Hollow

Words: 806

@wolfstarmicrofic

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

Sirius was under a blanket on the sofa when Remus got home from work. Never a good sign. He didn’t need to look at his face to know that he was pouting.

“What’s happened?” He perched on the arm of the sofa, looking at Sirius upside down.

“Lames have bought a house,” Sirius muttered from under the blanket. Remus waited for him to continue. “In Godric’s Hollow!”

Remus digested this information, “And you’re grumpy because…”

“That’s so far away!” Sirius wriggled beneath the blanket. “We’ve always all lived in London since we graduated.”

“Pads, you’re a wizard. You can Apparate or floo there in seconds. They could have bought a house in New Zealand and it would take you the same time to get there.” He chuckled.

“That’s not the point!” Right, he was at the point of being irrational. This called for desperate measures. Remus stood up, then eased himself on top of the blanket, wrapping his arms around Sirius. “Moons. The fuck?”

“You sounded like you needed a hug about it.” Remus said softly, “You worried that James is leaving you behind?”

“Shut up,” Sirius whispered. Remus rolled slightly to slide down the gap between Sirius and the back of the sofa.

“Can I come in?” Remus asked. Sirius huffed and lifted the blanket, allowing Remus to pull it over himself. Their legs tangled as they found themselves chest to chest. “Hi.”

“Alright, Moons?” Sirius tried to smile. “I know I’m being ridiculous.”

“Maybe you’re being a bit dramatic.” He paused, “But, it’s a big deal. They’re going to raise their kids in a house with a garden, where James can build them a treehouse and Lily can have a herb garden. I bet they’ll have a guest room for when you get too pissed to Apparate home, too. It’s going to be so good for them.”

“Well, now you just sound like them.” Sirius frowned. “Do you ever think about it? Buying a house with your wife, or husband, or whatever. In the future?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get to have that,” Remus said lightly. “I’m always going to be missing two crucial parts of the plan, money and someone who’ll stick around when they find out I’m a werewolf.”

“Huh,” Sirius said.

“What?” Remus narrowed his eyes.

“Well… you don’t have money to buy a house, I do. You think nobody will stick around after finding out about your furry little problem,” Remus rolled his eyes, “I did. It’s been over a decade, and I’m still here.”

“What’s your point?” Remus said slowly, a strange feeling unfolding in his chest.

“Maybe we should buy a house.” Sirius had a content smile on his face as if this was the obvious answer to his problems.

“Not that I don’t love living with you, because I do. But how would that work when you bring blokes home, or inevitably date, or one day want to get married?” Remus chewed on his lip. He could taste blood.

“The thing is,” Sirius wanted to pull Remus’ lip from between his teeth just so he’d stop attacking it. “I don’t think I want that with anyone else. I think… No, I know. I only want that with… you.”

He said the last word so quietly that Remus almost convinced himself that he misheard. He stared at Sirius. “Me?”

Sirius nodded, “James and Lily are getting married in the summer.”

“Yeah, I’m Lily’s best man or whatever she’s calling it. I’m aware. What does—”

“It’s just made me think about things. Then when they dropped the bomb about them moving, it put it into focus even more.” He actually did pull Remus’ lip from between his teeth that time. “Stop. You’re bleeding.” He grabbed his wand from his back pocket and cast a wordless Episkey. Remus’ eyes darkened. “When I think about getting married, having kids, or buying a house… it's always with you, Moons.”

“That’s probably just because we live together now.” Remus fought the urge to start gnawing on his lip again. “You’re just—”

“No. I’m not.” Sirius looked at him, “Look. If you aren’t interested, that’s fine. Nothing needs to change, I’m not going to be a dick about it. But if there’s even the tiniest part of you that is—”

He was interrupted by Remus surging forward and kissing him. Their mouths moved together as Sirius pulled Remus closer, grasping his hip. Remus pushed his shoulder slightly and rolled them both so he was straddling Sirius’ thighs. He threw the blanket off them and looked down at him.

“Is that a yes?” Sirius asked breathlessly.

“A yes to what?” Remus’ left eyebrow raised slightly.

“Any of it. All of it.” Sirius grabbed Remus’ collar and pulled him back down for a searing kiss.

“Yes.” Remus whispered against his lips, “To all of it.”

[kindersurprisebacterium]

Frigid (Ghost/Soap/Reader)

CW: Threesome, Anal, Vaginal, Oral (Giving/Recieving), Facials, Slight Breeding Kink, Alcohol

Gender Neutral AFAB Reader. They/Them Used

WC: 4.2k

The frigid air chapped my face. My eyelashes had frozen together in the blizzard-like conditions. Despite the layers of thermal clothing I had on under my snow gear, the chill went straight to my bones. I clenched my jaw tightly, hoping to dull the sound of my clattering teeth. 

Tucked up ahead between two rocky ridges was a plain looking concrete building. Through the blinding snow, it could’ve been easily mistaken for just another steep cliff face. I glanced back at the two men beside me. Captain McTavish’s brunette facial hair was now speckled with white. A blush had settled on his cheeks as the frost nipped his skin. Ghost was the furthest behind. While the balaclava on his face shielded him from the whipping wind, I didn’t doubt that he was miserable, trekking supplies through the deep snow. 

We approached the safe house. It looked like an abandoned bunker. Graffiti defaced the gray concrete exterior. Without a window, I couldn’t glance at the interior just yet. Johnny pulled out a set of keys from his pocket, the clanging just barely audible over the roaring storm. He inserted the key into the rusted knob and twisted, pushing weight onto the door with his shoulder. The door gave way and the three of us quickly rushed inside, slamming the door behind us. 

“Please tell me there’s a space heater or something,” I said as I brushed the snow off of my coat. 

“Think so. Dinnae see why there wouldn’t be,” Johnny huffed as he stepped into another room. The lights flicked on, and the low hum of electronics whirred to life. I glanced over my shoulder as one of the vents clattered, drawing my attention. I reached my gloved hand up to the vent. The faintest wave of heat washed over me. I grinned as I slipped my gloves off. 

“Central heating. They really spoiled us this time,” I said with a laugh. I undid the zipper of my overcoat next. I stepped into the next room, glancing across the arrangement of couches. It was decorated as if it was a home. A cow skin rug covered the floor. Atop it sat a wooden coffee table. 

“Are we sure this isn’t some kind of fancy bomb shelter?” I asked, dropping my coat on the floor. 

“Bloody looks like one,” Ghost muttered. I stepped out of my boots, leaving them by the door to dry. My fingers went to the buttons on my overalls, snapping them out of place. 

“Drinks!” Johnny shouted from another room. His boots clattered against the floor. With every step, the bottles in his arms clinked. I grinned at the Scotsman as I stepped out of the overalls. I felt much more comfortable in my sweats, without the suffocating feeling of gear on me. 

“Nice score, Johnny,” I said as I took a seat on the couch. 

Johnny was one of the first people I’d met on base. Being a computer expert, we often worked closely together. His personality was what struck me first. Others had said he acts like a puppy. I couldn’t help but agree. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do to see that beaming grin of his. 

It was on one of our nights off, at a bar near base, that we became friends. We spent the night talking over whiskey and swapping stories. He was affectionate, and touchy. With anyone else, I would’ve been put off, however it suited him perfectly. A simple touch of the shoulder could put you at ease instantly. 

Ghost was another story. The two of them were close, I knew that. Ghost was a prominent figure in the many stories he’d told me, and in the field the two almost always shared a tent. They’d been working for years together by this point. And yet, I couldn’t ever seem to break through his tough exterior. 

Any time we’d go out drinking, he sat silently, offering a small chuckle or a grunt occasionally. It was only after a few glasses that you’d really hear his voice, deep and gruff. And it was only after a bottle that I ever got to see his face. That night ended with the two of us dragging him back to base, nearly tripping over our feet to step over the trail of vomit he left. 

“Aye, they got bourbon. Tha’s fer you then.” He said, handing me a bottle. I popped the cap open with a grin and took a swig. The liquid hit my throat with a heat high enough to melt the snow off of my lashes. I pursed my lips as I swallowed, humming lightly. It was strong, much stronger than anything we had on base. I set the bottle between my thighs and watched as Johnny set the bottles on the table. I patted the space next to me with the palm of my hand. With his own drink in his grasp, he sat next to me. 

The couch cushions shifted under his weight. He threw his arm over my shoulder, now dressed down in a pair of thermal garments.

“To a job well done,” he said, lifting his bottle. I chuckled, clinking my drink against his. “You still need to show me how you rigged the detonator up to that computer.” He brought the bottle to his lips, eyes closing as he took down a few drinks. 

“Course,” I said, nudging him with my shoulder. “Ghost, what are you drinking tonight?” I asked the man. He picked up a bottle of what looked to be vodka. With Cyrillic letters, I couldn’t quite tell.

“Mystery Slav juice,” he grunted, taking a seat on the other couch. “Bloody hell my back is killing me.”

As the night went on, my limbs got warmer and warmer, and my bottle grew emptier and emptier. Mask discarded, the stuff man sitting across from me began to slowly open up. 

“You ever hook up with anyone on base?” Ghost asked with one of his legs crossed over the other. I laughed at the question, tightening the grip on my bottle. 

“Nah, never gotten that desperate,” I answered. He furrowed his brows, brown eyes flicking between me and Johnny. 

“I thought you two were going at it,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“Simon, I said I wanted to, not that I had,” soap sighed. “Damn blonde cannae listen can he?” He whispered next to my ear. I chuckled, feeling an intense heat rise in my cheeks. The admission didn’t surprise me, but saying the quiet part out loud did. 

“We got damn close that one night, course I was actually dolled up. Figured that might’ve done it for him,” I pushed my elbow into his ribs. Simon tapped his fingers against the arm of the couch, lips pressed tightly together. 

“C’mon don’t get jealous now, Ghosty.” Johnny whined, squeezing me tighter. His tone made me stop. I glanced up at the blonde sitting across from me, brows furrowed as I sifted through my thoughts. Jealous? Sure, it could’ve been a joke, but the looks ghost was giving me were just that, jealous. 

“Are you two…” I paused, looking at the two in hopes they’d cut me off. Johnny opened his mouth, as if he were going to speak, then closed it again. 

“Couple times,” Ghost spoke bluntly. 

“More’n a couple,” he corrected, “why, you getting jealous too?” The answer to his question was an undeniable yes. After that night of drunken, grabby hands, I couldn’t help but wish it had ended differently. 

I set my glass down on the table, refusing to answer his inquiry. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his jaw drop. The corners of his mouth turned up into a smirk as the realization struck him. I was. 

“Oh my god,” he gripped my jaw, turning my face to look at him. “You are!” I pushed away from him, trying to hide my flushed cheeks. With a soft plop I landed on my side on the couch. Johnny stood up with a grin, setting his bottle down and bringing his hands to my calves. He pulled me down the couch and onto my back, then quickly leaned down to pull my hands away from my face.

“I d’nt even think you wanted to go there,” he grinned, eyes scanning my face. 

“Johnny we almost-“

“You fell asleep!” He bursted out laughing. “They fell asleep on me!” He explained to Ghost. 

“I was drunk!” I retorted, wrestling against his grip on my wrist, “I didn’t want it to end like that,” I pouted.

“Well, how’d you want it to end?” Ghost asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. 

I couldn’t help the rush of heat that went between my legs. The way he looked at me with half-lidded eyes and dilated pupils- it drew my attention. Johnny gently placed his hand on my cheek. I brought my gaze back to him, brows furrowing as I opened my mouth to speak. 

“I wanted it to end with us fucking- I really did,” I confessed, glancing away from him. He pushed one of my legs up over his hip and leaned down, hips pressing flush against mine. From underneath the layers of wool, I could feel something stiff pressing against my thigh. My head spun as his face grew closer to mine. 

His lips were chapped, and his stubble scratched my cheeks, and yet I couldn’t pull away. The way his hands skimmed up and down my body had me holding my breath. Our lips moved against each other at a steady rhythm. I could taste the alcohol on his breath. It was bitter and smoky, just like his voice. 

His warm fingers slid underneath my sweatshirt. I twitched under his touch, whining against his lips as his fingers teased my ribs, toying with the band of my sports bra. With a muffled groan, his lips moved to my jaw, hot breath teasing my earlobe as he pressed messy kisses to my skin. 

“Simon,” I spoke up, looking over at the blonde. He simply grunted and stood up, not even sparing me a glance as he walked past the couch. I sat up, slipping out of Johnny's grip. I followed after the brit, my feet thumping as I hurried my pace. My fingers gripped his arm and roughly spun him around. With a firm grasp on the collar of his shirt, I pulled him down into a kiss. Without another word he gripped the back of my thighs, lifting me into the air. I crossed my ankles behind his back and smiled against his lips. 

Ghost’s lips were soft. He tasted of tobacco and sweat. His fingers gripped my hips tightly. His thumb stroked my thigh gently as he took a step forward. Maybe it was the booze, maybe the lips on my skin, but a heat struck me. It started in my face, toasting my cheeks. Traveling lower, a steady simmer settled in my stomach, dipping even lower. 

The couch creaked as he dropped me onto the cushions. A pair of warm hands went to my thigh. Johnny tugged my leg up onto his, spreading my knees apart. Simon took a seat at my other side, gently caressing my knee with his fingertips. Johnny reached out, grabbing the blonde's face and pulling him into a quick kiss. 

“You in, L.T.?” Johnny asked with a smirk. Wordlessly, Ghost nodded. “What about you, huh? Think y’can take us both?”

I leaned in, pressing my lips to the Scotsman. He smirked into the kiss and began hastily undoing the drawstring of my sweats. He kneeled between my legs, tugging roughly at my sweats. My body jolted as he yanked them down my hips, along with my underwear. He gripped my thighs and pulled me further down the couch until my ass was hanging off the cushions. He threw my legs over his shoulder and leaned in, licking a thick stripe up my cunt. I threw my head back against the couch and choked out a moan. With one hand I gripped Simon's thigh tightly, with the other, I tugged on Johnny's Mohawk.

Simon gripped my chin tightly and tilted my head to the side. He roughly began sucking and biting at my neck, leaving purple splotches behind. My breathing grew shallow and fast. The attention Johnny focused on my clit clouded any thoughts in my head. He traced tight circles around my clit with the tip of his tongue. My hips twitched, bucking away from his mouth. With a bruising grip, he held my hips in place, forcing me to endure the pleasure. 

“He’s good isn’t he,” Simon whispered next to my ear. His belt clattered as he undid the buckle. He pushed his pants down his hips, just enough for his cock to spring free. I let out a moan when I saw it. 

I didn’t doubt he would be big. Being over six feet tall, it’s guaranteed. What I didn’t expect were the two barbells at the bottom of his shaft. The silver complimented his pale skin, now flushed red with arousal. 

Johnny wrapped his lips around my clit and began roughly sucking. My thighs quaked and gently squeeze his head. My stomach tensed, drawing tighter with every flick of his tongue. Bringing my attention back to Simon, I held his cock and began slowly stroking him with a gentle twist. 

“Use your fingers, Johnny,” Simon grunted as he leaned in for a chaste kiss. 

My jaw fell slack as I felt the intrusion of two fingers. The sound it made as he began to slowly thrust the digits inside me was pornographic. Simon took advantage of my arousal, slipping his tongue past my parted lips, moaning into my mouth as I stroked him faster. At the end of every stroke, I teased his tip with the palm of my hand before slipping my hand back down his length. 

Johnny added a third finger. Every thrust shot straight up my spine, sending shoelaces across my body. My vision blurred. I could no longer focus on the blonde beside me, and my strokes grew erratic. And then it happened. 

He moaned. Directly into my cunt. It wasn’t a deep, growling moan, but a desperate whine. The vibrations pushed me over the edge. Both of my hands gripped tightly onto his hair, holding him steady as my climax wracked my body. My legs squeezed tightly around his head, and my back arched up off of the couch. The noises that fell from my lips were obscene and loud, completely unfiltered. 

My chest heaved, sweat running down my sternum as I slowly came back to reality. As my vision cleared, I could see both men staring down at me with blown out pupils. Johnny's face was soaked. Droplets stuck to his beard, just barely visible in the dim light. Johnny cupped my cheek, gently brushing away the tears that had fallen from my eyes. 

“There you are,” Johnny said with a smile. Simon pressed a gentle kiss to my temple, his fingers stroking my sore thighs. 

“Are you okay? You stopped responding for a bit,” Simon asked as he put his arm around my shoulder. 

“M’fine,” I slurred, placing my hand over Johnny’s. 

“D’ye want to keep goin’?” Johnny asked. I nodded, pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “Let’s make up fer tha’ one night then, yeah?” He smirked. As he stood up, my eyes went straight to his cock. His thermal pants were already halfway down his hips. A string of pre-cum leaked from the tip of his cock. He glanced over at Simon, then nodded his head toward me. Simon circled around the back of the couch and gripped my biceps tightly. He pulled me toward the end of the couch until my head brushed against the arm. His thumb gently stroked my bottom lip, and then his lips were one mine. It was brief and teasing. I pouted as I watched him circle the couch again. 

Johnny settled between my legs, hands stroking my knees as he gently parted my legs. His pants had been discarded among the pile of messy clothes by the coffee table. With his thumb he guided his cock into my entrance. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he inched forward. 

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” he grunted, hips twitching as he bottomed out. Our bodies rocked in sync as he started up a steady pace, thrusting in and out of me. My toes were already curling. The way he filled me up was delectable, addicting even. He knew how to move, angling up to hit all the right places. 

Simon placed his hand on Johnny's shoulder, nudging him to lean down. The brunette placed his hands on either side of my head. He stilled inside of me, squeezing his eyes shut. 

I watched as his face contorted. He moaned out Simon’s name and began moving again. It was shallower than before, that was noticeable. But the look on his face more than made up for it. 

“Keep moving, sergeant. Don’t want to disappoint, now do we,” Simon said from behind Johnny. I felt a blush creep across my cheeks as I realized what was happening. Simon was knuckle deep in Johnny, pushing his hips forward, and into me. 

Johnny sped up, little noises escaping his mouth with every thrust. He grabbed my shirt, pushing it up over my chest. He pinched my nipples, toying with the sensitive skin. I whined and grabbed his wrist. My back arched up off of the couch as the pain drew me further into bliss. I reached up, holding his face with my hand. The stubble of his beard tickled my palm. I tugged him into a heated kiss. His spit soaked lips parted. I whimpered as he bit down on my lower lip. 

And then his eyes screwed shut. He parted his lips and shuddered. Simon gripped Johnny’s hips tightly, pushing him forward until he bottomed out inside me. 

“Let’s see who breaks first then,” Simon chuckled. 

The couch creaked as the both of them began moving. With every thrust from Simon, it sent Johnny forwards, hitting deeper and deeper. Johnny now braced both of his hands on the arm of the couch, using the leverage to drill into me fast and hard. 

“Fuck- y’feel so good!” Johnny moaned. 

Simon reached forwards, gripping Johnny’s throat tight. I watched as his blue eyes glazed over, and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. 

“Like getting it from both ends, Johnny?” Simon growled, rutting forward roughly. 

“I-I can’t- “he stuttered, eyes going cross. 

“Yes, you can. Now c’mon, play with their clit.”

The vulgar display in front of me was already pushing me closer to my climax. The minute Johnny began circling his thumb around my clit, I twitched, clenching tight around his cock. Johnny shuddered, head hanging low. His blue eyes locked onto me, my scrunched-up face, and my quivering thighs. 

“Ooh, you’re squeezing me, Johnny. You close?” Simon teased, moving his hand from Johnny’s throat, down his chest to toy with his nipple.

“Fuck yes!” Johnny cried out as his eyelids fluttered shut. I reached up and gripped his chin, pulling him close to me. I pressed a kiss along his jawline before pulling back. 

“Johnny I want you to cum in me,” I spoke softly next to his ear. 

His eyes shot open and his gaze met mine, as if asking if I was serious. I smirked, watching as he reached his orgasm. His pace grew erratic and arrhythmic. Obscenities flew out of his mouth as he came, flooding my insides with warmth. 

“GonnaFUCKin’breedye. Soo good” he slurred, punctuating his words with a groan. 

And then he stilled. His lips were parted as he painted, catching his breath. Sweat beaded down his forehead and chest. Simon pulled out, letting his hands drop to the Scotsman’s waist. Johnny whimpered and stood up on shaky legs. With a thud he threw his body down onto the other couch. 

“Now I wanna see what’s got him all worked up,” Simon said, pulling a condom off of his cock. A condom which I couldn’t recall him putting on. He grabbed my hips roughly and flipped me onto my stomach. 

“Nice and wet, aren’t you,” He smacked my cunt with the palm of his hand. I could feel the cum leaking out of me, running down my thighs. He pushed inside me all at once, knocking the breath from my lungs. I buried my face into the cushion, muffling the moan that came out of me as I felt him stretch my insides. 

“Tight too,” he grunted. “Wish you hadn’t kept this nice pussy a secret.”

“Simon!” I cried out as he pistoned his hips in and out of me. He was faster, rougher than Johnny was, and yet hit all the same spots. The barbells at the base of his cock made me shudder as I felt them pressing against me. 

With every thrust, his balls smacked against my clit. My stomach tensed as he continued his assault on my insides. 

“Next time, Johnny and I oughta fill both your holes,” Simon spat, gripping tightly on my hair. I couldn’t help the heat that rose in my stomach, or that I clenched around his cock. 

“Oooh you like that don’t you. Dirty slag,” he landed a harsh smack on my ass. I jolted, crying out his name. “Hear that Johnny? Looks like we’ve got some DP on our list.” 

I glanced up at the couch. Johnny was sitting up, watching the two of us. His hand stroked his cock which was already hard again. I licked my lips, eyes flicking from his cock to his flushed face. 

“Come here,” I said, biting my lower lip. He obliged, rising, and making his way toward me. I held my mouth open for him, reaching out to grab his cock with my hand. Simon grabbed both of my hands and roughly tugged them behind my back. I winced at the tugging pain in my shoulder, then returned my attention to Johnny. He slid his cock into my mouth, gently placing his hand on the back of my head. He pushed more of his length into my mouth. 

Simon pulled out before sinking back in, roughly thrusting against my cervix. I moaned around Johnny's cock, earning a grunt from him. I could feel Simon's cock twitch inside me. I could feel that he was close with the way he sped up, somehow hitting even deeper inside me. 

“Gonna fuck another load into you,” Simon groaned, gripping my hips tightly. Between the dirty talk and the soft moans coming from Johnny as I swirled my tongue, I felt myself drowning in lust. My extremities were burning, muscles tensing as I approached my climax. My vision grew hazy as my eyes unfocused, and the pang of arousal in my stomach grew deeper. I pulled off of Johnny’s cock, contorting as I came. A string of obscenities slid off of my tongue in a sputtering, incoherent mess. Simon stilled inside of me with a grunt, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into my heated skin. With a tug of my hair, Johnny tilted my head. I watched as he jerked his cock by my face, brows furrowing as he reached his second orgasm. His cock twitched, then spurted pearly strings of cum over my face. I squeezed my eyes shut and parted my lips, sticking out my tongue. 

Once he finished, he loosened the grip on my hair. I was left feeling utterly spent. I could feel the cum oozing out of me, making a mess of my legs. The strings of cum landed in my eyelashes, weighing them down. 

“Is there a bathtub here? Something like that?” Simon asked from behind me. 

“Down the hall. I’ll start the water.”

And then I was being lifted, pulled into a sweaty chest. With a swipe of his thumb, Simon wiped my eyes clean. I opened my eyes, only to be met with a brown gaze. I hooked my arms around the back of his neck, resting my head on his collarbone as he walked towards the bathroom. 

Steam rose from the half-full tub. Johnny held out his arms for me. The tile floor was cold against my feet. Simon gently set me down, holding onto my hip in case I fell. I stepped forward and into Johnny's arms. Glancing back over my shoulder, I watched as the blonde turned away. 

“You’re not joining us?” I asked.

“We’re not fitting in that tub. I’ll use the shower.” He mumbled. 

I reached out, grabbing his arm. With a small tug he inched closer. I propped myself up on my toes and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips. When I pulled back he was smiling, the first time I’d seen it. It was subtle, just a curl of his lips, but it was definitely a smile. 

Johnny helped me step into the tub. The hot water soothed my aching muscles. He slipped in behind me, pulling me into his lap. My back pressed against his chest, and he settled his hands in my lap, fingers gently skimming my thighs. 

“So we’re doin’ this again, right?”

Masterlist

[dbnightingale24]

The Dog House Isn’t The Best, But It Can Still Be Our Home

Final installment to 'Pavlov's Dog'

~~

Part 3

~~

I told you guys I'd post it at some point 🥴 I'm honestly so sorry this took so long to post, but last year got really dark for me and everything just kind of took a backseat. Thank you so much for your patience, and thank you to all of you who checked up on me. It means more than I'll ever be able to express. Thank you @fuckingbye for being an amazing friend, and for also making this amazing moodboard. You are a saint and I love to the ends of the earth. Without further ado, here's the final chapter!

Word Count: 71,942 (yes, you read that correctly)

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY), Public Sex, Semi Public Sex, Drinking, Smoking, Swearing, Daddy Kink, Angst, Heartbreak, Mild Violence, FLUFF, Lying, Betrayal...I think that's it?

Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter: Will You Take Me Back In The Morning If I Promise To Never Act This Way Again?

I do not give consent/permission for my works/stories to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

~~

“You can’t keep going on like this, babe,” Daisy sighs sympathetically as she takes a seat next to the bathtub.

“It doesn’t matter,” you shrug as you take a drag of your cigarette, “none of it fucking matters.”

“Babe, it’s been two weeks. You do the same thing every day. You get up, eat the smallest bit of food, you sit out on your back deck and smoke until you decide to start drinking, then you draw yourself a bath and drink and smoke in it until you decide it’s too cold, or I come and get you. You can’t keep doing this.”

“I don’t even have a reason to be mad at him, do I?” you scoff incredulously before taking a drag from your cigarette, “it’s not like he lied. He didn’t even know, so I have no reason to be this upset, do I?”

“He was a complete and total asshole,” she states firmly, “and you have every reason to be upset with his actions. Yeah, it was a shit show, but he definitely could’ve handled it better.”

“The shit he said right in front of that child, even if it isn’t his, were so fucking cruel! No child deserves to be spoken to like that, and he of all people should know that!”

“Babe-”

“After everything we talked about on that trip...it’s like it didn’t even matter to him. He didn’t even care.”

“I’m sure he was just shocked-”

“That’s not an excuse, Dais.”

“I never said it was, but c’mon: it’s Ransom. You really think he was thinking clearly? Linda and Marta were there and I’m more than sure he was afraid of losing you, then Marta drops a fucking bomb on him, and it sounds like she did it on purpose, if I’m honest. Just to fuck him over.”

“Daisy, I just-”

“BABY, PLEASE ANSWER THE DOOR AND TALK TO ME!” Ransom calls desperately as he bangs on your front door.

Like clockwork.

“Why can’t he understand that I need time? I don’t owe him shit,” you start to sniffle as your tears fall, and you grab the bottle of tequila that lives by the bathtub now, and take a long drink from it.

“I’ll get rid of him, just please...please get up and do something,” Daisy begs desperately.

“Ya know, you’re wrong,” you say as she reaches the doorway, finally looking at her, “I put on makeup today,” you smile weakly.

She lets out a humorless laugh before disappearing and you hear her footsteps quickly making their way downstairs.

Since everything that took place on his doorstep, you haven’t spoken to or seen him. You don’t know what to say or how to handle the situation. He’s been calling and texting non-stop since it all happened, and every two days he comes by to visit, and Daisy tells him to leave you alone every time.

But you can’t keep avoiding him.

No, you don’t know what the right thing to do is, but you know that avoiding him is the wrong thing, and you can’t keep letting Daisy handle these issues for you. You have to at least speak to him, but say what? Do what? It’s not like you have any real right to be mad at him. It’s not like he cheated on Marta with you, he didn’t cheat on you with her, he clearly didn’t know he had a child so he didn’t keep it from you, and he did defend you to Linda. However, that doesn’t change the things he said to that child.

Possibly his child.

“He’s not my son and this isn’t fucking funny!”

“We can take a test if you want, but he is your son!”

“Well, I don’t want him! You wait...however many years to tell me about him, and you sure as shit don’t need any money, so why now?!”

“He deserves to know who his Father is, Ransom! He’s a Drysdale and-”

“Watch it,” Ransom warns with a foreboding tone.”

God, how could he be so cruel to a child, after all of the talks you two have had? He’s always cruel though, isn’t he? To you, to Marta, his own son (the resemblance is too strong for that boy to not to be his child), and fuck it, even Jack. He can’t ever seem to control his temper and, if he can’t do that, what chance do you two have together?

Still, he owns your heart and you don’t know how to get it back at this point. You don’t know and you don’t wanna know.

“Ransom, you have to stop coming around!” you hear Daisy yell, and you sigh before taking another drink from the bottle.

“You can’t stop me from me seeing her, Daisy! She’s my girlfriend!” 

“Bullshit! You two never made it official-”

“Daisy, stay out of it! Let me see her!”

“No! She’s not ready to see you and you can’t force-”

“I’m not forcing anything-”

“What do you think this is?! Showing up because she won’t answer your calls or texts, and demanding to see her?! Leave her alone!”

“You can’t stop me-”

“Let him in!” you call, lighting a cigarette as you use your tip toes to turn the water back on, and heat up your water just a bit.

Who the hell knows how this is gonna go?

You hear the both of them speedily stomping up the steps, but Daisy get there first and says, “are you sure? You don’t have to-”

“I can’t keep letting you fight my battles,” you smile weakly at her as you turn the water off.

“Babe-”

“I have to deal with this at some point. I can do this,” you all but mumble not believing yourself as you take a drag of your cigarette.

“I’ll be in the room over,” she sighs softly before turning, “fuck you Drysdale!”

“Fuck you!”

You hear her slap him and shake your head. Nothing can ever be simple, can it?

“Sweet Thing, please-” he starts as soon as he makes his way into your bathroom.

“Ransom...don’t,” you quickly interrupt. “This isn’t just some small disagreement.”

“I didn’t even know I had a child!”

“I could’ve dealt with that, Ransom! It would’ve taken some time, but I honestly could’ve dealt with that! It’s the way you spoke about him in front of him!”

“I don’t want him!”

“You didn’t have to say it in front of him! Jesus, it’s not his fault that you’re a selfish bastard! He didn’t ask to be born, and Marta-”

“She did this out of spite! Not because she wants me to be apart the child’s-”

“Be that as it may, he didn’t do anything! Basically telling her that she has no right calling him a Drysdale, when he is in fact a Drysdale! Ransom, I know you’re rough around the edges, but for fucks sake! All the talks we’ve had about our own fucked up childhoods and you do this?! You just...I don't fucking get it with you, Ransom!”

“What is there to get?! We fucking talked about this, Y/N! I’m not-”

“That’s no excuse for this! You took it too far and I...Ransom, I can’t-”

“Don’t you fucking say it,” he warns as his eyes start welling up with tears. “Don’t you fucking say that to me!”

“Ransom...I love you, but I can’t be the only good thing in your life. The only person you like,” you sob, sitting up and ashing your cigarette in the ash tray resting on the little table near by.

“WHY NOT?!”

“It’s too much fucking pressure! It’s too much pressure, and I can’t keep watching you be terrible to people because you had a rough childhood! You having a rough go of it doesn’t mean you get to walk all over people for the rest of your life!”

“Listen, give it a few days and you’ll see-”

“No, Ransom. This is done. I can’t do this with you anymore. You have to grow up at some point, and I refuse to mother you.”

“Y/N...you’ll see...you don’t mean it. You always say you’re done and you come back-”

“I can’t anymore. All of this just hurts too much. You keep finding new ways to hurt me, even when you don’t mean to, and I just...you’re cruel, Ransom. You’re cruel, you’re a bully, and you will hurt anyone by doing anything. I know there’s good in you, because you’ve let me see it time and time again, but you refuse to let others in, even in the slightest and I just...please don’t call me anymore,” you sob pathetically. “Don’t call, don’t text, don’t come by...we’re done.”

“You don’t mean this-”

“Don’t make it harder than it has to be, please. Just let me go,” you beg softly as you wipe your eyes.

“You’ll see. In a week or so, you’ll see and I’ll be waiting. I’ll wait and everything will be as it should, again,” he smiles weakly, wiping his own eyes.

“Ransom-”

“I’ll call you in a few weeks, okay, Sweet Thing,” he promises, making his way over to the bathtub. “I love you and I’ll talk to you.”

He cups your face and kisses you passionately and you’re so tempted to pull him into the tub with you, but you know you’ve got to stop. You left one toxic relationship just to jump into a different type of toxic relationship.

“Ransom,” you breathe once you two break apart, “please-”

“I’ll talk to you in a few weeks,” he promises with a sniffle before standing up and walking out.

“Ransom-”

“I’ll see you in a few weeks,” he repeats, his voice cracking as he continues on his way out.

Daisy is back inside and by your side instantly, climbing into the tub and holding you close as you cry uncontrollably, as you try to come to terms with the choice you’ve just made. Yeah, he’s right in saying that you always come back, but that’s not the case this time.

You need to stay away from him for good.

The fact that he has it in his head that all of this will be sorted out in a few weeks, lets you know that this is only the calm before the storm. As both you and Daisy lean back into the tub, and she holds you close while you cry into her shoulder, there’s only one question going through your head:

How the hell are you supposed to quit the love of your life?

**

4 Years Later...

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You can read the rest of the story here

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