#that felt UNNECESSARILY reckless

[gildedraven-goldenwhisper]

Finally caught up on c3 to watch the finale live

Ngl, those last 15 minutes of the episode almost made me cry. Shit hurt bad

[levanterhaze]

GAMEBOY — BANGCHAN

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader this one is just pure angst and drama, no smut, just teasing each other like two idiots.

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[ 5.7k words ]♡― i had to continue this fic in a 2nd part, i felt necessary. maybe i'll continue it in a few more chapters (PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP ON ME) and thank you thank you thank you to everyone who has commented and appreciated this piece. it means a lot to a person who is non-native english wrt. without further ado, have a good read, loves!

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one]

you’re so indecisive of what I’m saying tryna catch the beat, make up your heart don't know if you're happy or complaining don't want for us to end, where do I start?

The pounding in your head was a testament to last night’s choices. Aspirin was non-negotiable. You could hear Eunji and Sohee's voices from the living room and were surprised that both of them were already awake after their all-nighter.

After leaving the room with Bangchan—because, of course, that happened—you ducked into the bathroom, shot off a text about vomiting and existential regret, and decided to make a graceful exit. Well, as graceful as one could manage after wild sex with the person you’d sworn to hate forever. Pride was nowhere in the equation, but who cared?

As soon as your eyes saw daylight, Eunji and Sohee looked at you judgmentally. You froze in your tracks, still wearing pink Hello Kitty jammies like a monument to your shame. Their judgment was immediate, sharp as a blade. Your heart sped up.

“You’re alive,” Sohee deadpanned, taking a bite of a cinnamon roll. “And looking like shit.”

“Appreciate it,” you shot back, throwing yourself into a chair. “Really warms the soul.”

Eunji’s smoothie slurp was unnecessarily loud, drilling straight into your skull. “We thought about waking you for breakfast but figured you’d need the recovery time.”

You dismissed the idea with a hand wave. "That's okay. Wouldn’t have gotten up anyway.”

"We can have lunch together, if you like. I really need a detox after last night." Sohee curled her lips into a grimace and you almost smiled. Detox advice from Sohee was peak irony.

But then Eunji, ever the chaos-bringer, dropped the bomb. “Oh my God, you guys, I heard the craziest thing last night! Jiwoon—my lit classmate—said he walked in on someone having super loud sex at the party. Guess who it was? Bangchan!”

Your heart plummeted straight into your stomach.

Silence remained and Sohee raised her eyebrows at Eunji.

“Apparently, the guy is a structural hazard,” Sohee chimed in, amused. “Minho said he once broke a floorboard. Who even does that?” Your red-haired friend says giggling.

Eunji giggled. “The girl’s lucky. If Bangchan wrecked me, I’d consider it an honor.”

You summoned your most convincing disdain, rolling your eyes with the energy of someone deeply unimpressed. “Honestly, can we not make him sound like some sort of deity?”

But guilt clung to you like a second skin, mingling with vivid flashes of last night—the furniture banging against the wall, Bangchan’s muscles taut as he tried to steady it. The memory burned, searing and humiliating, until Eunji’s voice yanked you back to reality.

The memory faded like mist when Eunji said it again. "Anyway, the girl’s lucky. I wish I was knocked down by Bangchan."

Lucky. That’s what they’d call you if they knew. Lucky—and a traitor to everything you’d loudly professed about hating him. They didn’t know it was you, and you intended to keep it that way.

From the tone of the chat, Jiwoon didn't see who was in the room with Bangchan, which means he didn't know you were the girl. Trying to ignore the talking and the sweat growing on your hands, you got up and declared that you were going to take a shower and maybe run some laps around the athletics track, because you really needed some fresh air.

The dorm felt claustrophobic. Eunji and Sohee were your best friends and you felt awful for not telling them the truth.

These were your best friends, but the truth felt like a grenade you couldn’t risk dropping. For months, you’d built your personality around despising Bangchan, and now? One night had unraveled it all.

Worst of all? You couldn’t stop replaying every second of it—and how much you’d loved it.

Sex had always been an exercise in mediocrity. Your exes? Predictably average, hitting the bare minimum on their way to their own finish line. As for finding the clitoris? Let’s just say they navigated like someone using a map upside down—an unsurprising disappointment every single time.

Now, though, Bangchan was something else entirely. A campus legend with a reputation as vast as it was unshakable. Everyone knew about his conquests—more women than you had fingers to count. Every rumor you’d rolled your eyes at turned out to be painfully, thrillingly true. He was better than anything you could have imagined.

Even after a long shower, his touch lingered, like phantom fingerprints etched into your skin. You could still feel him, every moment replaying in a maddening loop. No one had ever made you come twice in one night. No one. That fact alone made him unforgettable—and insufferably smug, no doubt.

Pulling on comfortable clothes, you grabbed a bag, stuffed in some essentials, and checked your phone. The group chat was overflowing with photos and messages from last night’s chaos, but you scrolled past all of it. There was only one person you needed right now.

You: Up for a morning run?

The reply came in under two minutes.

Hyunjin: It’s two in the afternoon. You: Morning for me. Hyunjin: Fine. Be there in five.

You tossed your phone into your bag and took a deep breath. A run was exactly what you needed—to burn off this restless energy and, hopefully, forget how guilty you felt.

You found Hyunjin on the running track near the outdoor field, surrounded by lush greenery and bursts of flowers the campus meticulously maintained. He looked effortlessly good, of course—baggy clothes hanging just right, dark hair falling over his face like it had been styled by the gods.

You started running side by side, silence settling between you. It was comfortable but heavy, like a bubble that needed popping. The kiss was the unspoken elephant on the track, but Hyunjin, ever observant, didn’t push. Not yet.

The day was crisp, the kind of weather that made you feel invincible. You poured your focus into your pace, and before you knew it, you’d pulled ahead. “Okay, okay—hold up,” Hyunjin called, his voice carrying just enough humor to make you smirk.

You stopped a few strides ahead, spinning on your heel to face him. He sauntered toward you, not even winded, like running was merely a mild inconvenience.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he said, his tone playful but probing.

“There’s nothing to tell,” you countered, already feeling your resolve falter.

“Uh-huh.” He stopped in front of you, his gaze narrowing. “Then why, exactly, did you ask me to kiss you last night?”

Well. There it was. No escaping now.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool as you grabbed the water bottle from your bag. “I was... needy, I guess.”

Hyunjin raised a brow, crossing his arms like he wasn’t buying it. “Needy, huh?”

“Look,” you said, exhaling sharply, “I’m sorry if it made things weird. You’re my best friend, and the last thing I want is for that to get messed up.”

“Relax,” he said, grinning as he ran a hand through his hair. “A kiss isn’t going to scare me off. You’re stuck with me.”

His easy laugh melted some of your tension, but before you could respond, he clapped his hands together with mock seriousness. “Tell you what—first one to the other side of campus owes the winner a banana milk.”

The sudden challenge caught you off guard, and you raised a brow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he said, already turning on his heel to start jogging backward. “Unless you’re too scared.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you bolted after him. “You’re so on.”

You lost the run, but of course, Hyunjin still paid for the drink. That summed him up as a friend.

After he dashed off to rehearse with Felix—because apparently, everyone else was rehearsing but you—a thought hit you like a lightbulb flickering to life. Rumors? Easy to spread. But if you wanted to get ahead of them, you had to go straight to the source.

With a mission in mind, you swaggered toward the gym where the basketball team was practicing. It wasn’t exactly classified info—every girl on campus could probably tell you when and where their training sessions were. You zipped your jacket up to your chin like it was some sort of emotional armor, grabbed your water bottle for moral support, and marched down the corridors. The door to the gym was already cracked open, and as you pushed it, everything seemed to slow down in the most dramatic way.

The guys were running drills, their shoes squeaking on the court like a broken record. The noise grated on your nerves, but you weren’t here for the sound; you were here for the spectacle. The stands were dotted with girls, some wrapped up in their player-boyfriend fantasies, while others... Well, who knows what they were thinking. You didn’t care. You had your eyes on the real prize today.

There he was, standing out like a sore thumb. His black and white uniform somehow looked too good on him. Focus, girl. You hid behind the staircase, crouched like a sneaky little spy, waiting for the game to wrap up.

It took nearly ten minutes, but eventually, the whistle blew. You adjusted your posture, trying to act casual, though you were definitely still paying attention to how the sweat trickled down Bangchan's forehead. It brought you war flashbacks. When the players scattered to grab towels and water, you took your cue to appear from behind the bleachers, giving a quick, awkward wave before ducking back again.

Bangchan's eyes scanned the area, and when they landed on you, his brows shot up in surprise.  In the meantime, he did the inevitable: he took off his shirt and used it to get dry. Great. Just great.

"Did you come to watch?" He smirked, that cocky grin of his. "Didn't know you were into basketball."

You rolled your eyes. His ability to flirt in every situation was almost impressive.

"Ha-ha. No." You sucked in a breath, desperately trying to obey your brain's commands. Don't look down. Don’t you dare look down. "Actually, I came to ask for a favor."

He leaned against the wall, eyebrow quirked, looking amused. "Okay...?"

“Right. I want what happened yesterday to stay a secret.”

Bangchan's eyebrow arched higher, an expression of entertained disbelief crossing his face. He crossed his arms, flexing those muscles in a way that made the mission of not looking at them impossible.

“'You think I'm going around saying we fucked?"

You roll your eyes, frustration building up, and clench your hand into a fist. Sure, say it louder, let the world know.

“Isn't that exactly what you do? Brag about your sexual life?”

The boy nodded, puffing out his chest, he shot back. "Ever heard me brag about it?"

“I don't need to hear it from you. The campus does it for you.” It was infuriating how this worked out. Everyone thought Bangchan was the type of guy, praising his victories and glorifying him every time he got between some girl's pants. 

Meanwhile, girls were severely censured for even kissing a guy at a party.

"Right. So you're just going off what people say about me?" His tone was challenging, like he couldn’t care less.

In a long drawn-out sigh, you fidgeted with your hands, intending to put the matter to one side. "Can you just keep this between us? I don't want anyone to know."

"Whatever, it's no big deal," he replied nonchalantly, shrugging. "If it's that important to you."

The words stung more than they should have. It wasn’t just the lack of care, it was the way he made it sound like it didn’t matter. No big deal. It hurt your pride, even if you didn’t mean it to. But that was Bangchan, wasn’t it? Haughty and self-righteous. Yeah, he was great in bed, but his attitude? Utterly shitty.

“Thanks.” You said it briefly, biting down your pride and leaving the scene as fast as you could. Speaking to him seemed like a fool's errand, but you couldn't risk it.

Behind you, Bangchan pursed his lips into a thin line, watching you go. To him, you were hopeless—always on guard, never letting your walls down. He knew he was right, even if it was a thin line. Sure, it was fun to rile you up, but it was maddening that you hated him for things he hadn’t even done.

Getting you to change your mind, though? That was the challenge. But if that’s what it took, he was more than willing to play the long game.

Early next week. Only Tuesday, and auditions loomed just a day away. You’d been agonizing over the perfect solo—one that wouldn’t just get you a role but the role. Monday was a blur of brainstorming with Hyunjin and Seungmin, your trusted theater comrades. Between swapping notes, debating song choices, and plenty of eye rolls, you managed to help each other refine your audition pieces. It was productive. Chaotic, but productive.

Your last hour of the day belonged to the theater, and it was sacred. The stage wasn’t just a place; it was a state of mind. The second the music hit, the world faded. Bills, homework, exes who ghosted you—it all melted away. Up there, you weren’t just alive; you were electric. It wasn’t just a hobby; it was instinct.

Your mom used to say you were born for the stage. She loved telling the story of how, as a kid, you’d belt out The Little Mermaid soundtrack so often the neighbors probably debated filing a noise complaint. Singing “Part of Your World” at the top of your lungs? A daily ritual. But the first time you sang for real—no plastic microphone, no stuffed animal audience—it clicked.

This was more than a passion. It was home.

Since high school, your hunger for the stage—and the spotlight—was insatiable. If there was a club, you wanted in. University was no different. People noticed you, not just for your knack for hitting sharp, glass-shattering high notes, but for your versatility. You could slip from sweet soprano to soulful belter faster than a drama major running late to class. On stage, you were magnetic.

Everyone gathered on stage, and Mrs. Baek appeared a few moments later with her round glasses and wavy hair around her face. Her figure was solid and powerful, as was her voice and knowledge.

But today, something was off. The crease on her forehead gave her away before she said a word. It was like a ripple of unease spread across the stage, and you didn’t miss a beat. You were already bracing for the bad news.

Then, a slim figure in a long skirt and boots strode into the center of the circle, sighing like she’d just carried the weight of the world—and maybe she had. “Okay, kids. Listen up.” Every pair of eyes locked onto her as if she were delivering the prophecy of doom. “We’re postponing the auditions. Indefinitely.”

Her announcement hit like a gut punch, and the stage erupted into chaos. Whispers turned to complaints, and complaints turned to full-blown outrage. Seungmin cast a skeptical glance at Mrs. Baek, then at you and Hyunjin, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

What the hell was going on?

“All right, settle down,” Mrs. Baek said, slipping her glasses off and pinching the bridge of her nose with that practiced mix of authority and exhaustion only she could pull off. “Jun-ho, our sound engineer, has officially dropped out of college. And to make matters worse, the university has decided to cut funding for the theater department in favor of... sports.”

“You're shitting me.” Nahee’s voice sliced through the commotion like a whip. She quickly caught herself, mumbling, “Sorry... but seriously—”

“That’s so unfair!” another voice chimed in from the back, frustration rippling through the group like a shockwave. “Basketball and soccer aren’t the only things this university has going for it.”

“I get it, kids. Believe me, I tried.” Mrs. Baek’s tone softened, but her words were anything but comforting. “I went to the administration, pleaded our case... But unless we can find enough volunteers and funding, I’m afraid auditions are canceled. Indefinitely.”

It felt like a cruel joke. The theater had always been your sanctuary, the one place where you could shed your armor and just be. And now? It was slipping through your fingers.

When Mrs. Baek dismissed the group, some students stormed out in anger, others lingered, trying to process what had just happened. For you, Hyunjin, and Seungmin, the next logical step was the canteen. Food couldn’t fix this, but it was something.

“This is absurd. Now we're all supposed to close our eyes and applaud this nonsense?” Seungmin boomed as the three of you walked to the canteen. It was packed every day, regardless of the time of the day.

At a table outside, you spotted Sohee and Minho. Eunji, Changbin, Felix and Bangchan.

Just when you thought your day couldn't get any worse...

“Tell me about it, I'm so pissed off!” Everyone looked at you, hearing loud and clear about your discontent. All three of you pulled up a chair and you sat down facing Changbin.

“Someone's jumpy.” Sohee leaned across the table. “What's wrong? You three look like shit.”

“It turns out the university cut the theater’s funding in favor of sports.” Your voice was sharp, and your glare shot directly at Bangchan, who was busy texting like the world wasn’t crumbling around him. He looked up, one eyebrow raised in confusion, as if you’d just accused him of single-handedly ruining the arts.

You looked away, rage bubbling in your veins.

“That sucks.” Felix shot back with a supportive smile. “I know how important the theater is to you guys.”

“Everyone’s been working so hard,” Seungmin muttered, sinking into his chair like the weight of the news had finally crushed him. “It’s just... unfair.”

A heavy silence settled over the table, broken only by the sound of Bangchan’s nails tapping on his phone screen. You glanced his way, the sight of him completely disengaged making your blood boil.

“Is there nothing we can do?” Eunji twisted her lips, hopeful.

“Car wash?” Changbin suggested with a mischievous grin. “Classic fundraiser, right?”

“Sure,” you shot back, deadpan, “let’s exploit women for the sake of art.” Your glare could’ve leveled him then and there. Changbin leaned back in his chair, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Okay, fine. What about food?” Sohee jumped in, glancing at Minho for support. “Muffins, cupcakes, something simple. People love that stuff.”

Hyunjin's face lights up like a light bulb. “Felix makes brownies. Amazing brownies.”

Felix smirked, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I don’t wanna brag, but they’re basically legendary.”

“Alright, then.” Changbin grinned, pointing a finger gun between Felix and you. “You two make the brownies. And we,” he motioned to himself and Bangchan, “sell them.”

You and Bangchan exchange glances for a millisecond.

“I’ve got the perfect idea,”  he says, a wicked smile slipping from his lips.

You raise an eyebrow, laughing. “What? Are you going to sell brownies naked around campus?”

The grin widened, and that’s when you knew you should’ve kept your mouth shut.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

Felix had assured you he could handle everything, but your stubbornness wouldn’t let you sit this one out. If it was for the theater, you were all in. He handed over his famous brownie recipe like it was a national secret.

So, on Thursday, you got hands-on. Literally.

Eunji had come through with the shopping, and soon your dorm looked like a war zone—chocolate smudges on the counters, flour dusting the floor, and batter splattered in places you couldn’t quite explain. You only had a cramped space and a big dream of pulling this off.

You were just pouring the batter into a pan when a sharp knock at the door startled you. Wiping your hands on your skirt, you swung it open, expecting maybe Eunji or Hyunjin. Instead, there stood Bangchan, leaning casually against the door frame like he had nowhere else to be.

“Uh… hello?” You blinked, your brow furrowing. “What are you doing here?”

Bangchan stood back for a second, observing how exceptionally good you looked.

“So… newsflash,” he started, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You might wanna double that recipe.”

Confusion flashed across your eyes. “What do you mean?”

He straightened up, clearly enjoying your puzzled reaction. “I may have the entire basketball team to help out with the sale.”

Your jaw dropped as his words sank in. “You what?”

His grin widened at your disbelief. “You heard me. More hands, more sales. I figured we could use the hype.”

It was insane. But it was also brilliant. A rush of excitement shot through you, lighting up your face. “That’s… that’s fantastic!” you blurted, beaming before instinctively biting your lip to rein in your enthusiasm.

Bangchan tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost genuine. “Thought you’d like that.”

“Oh, shit. I'll tell Felix, we're going to need an extra oven.” You walked over to the coffee table, where your phone was.

Before you could dial, Bangchan’s voice cut through your focus. “You shouldn’t go there.” He was still standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression surprisingly earnest. “It’s a mess. Like, biohazard-level chaos.” You lose heart, trying to think of another alternative. “You can use my dorm. If you want.” He quickly adds the last sentence.

Your stomach dropped at the suggestion. The idea of stepping into Bangchan’s dorm felt like walking into enemy territory. Risky. Dangerous. Not worth the potential fallout. “It’s fine,” you said, waving him off. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it.”

But Bangchan leaned against the doorframe, his smirk resurfacing. “You sure? There are a lot of brownies to bake, and I don’t think you’ve got all night.”

As much as you hated to admit it, he wasn’t wrong. Time was slipping through your fingers like sand, and with the entire basketball team now involved, efficiency was critical. “Fine,” you muttered, hating the way the word tasted in your mouth. “But only if you help.”

“You don't have to ask twice.”

It turned out Bangchan’s “help” involved more than just offering his kitchen. He insisted on carrying every utensil, baking sheet, and ingredient across campus himself, as though showing off how capable he was. By the time you arrived at his so-called dorm, you’d pieced together another puzzle about him.

Rich, but not obnoxiously so. Still, his “dorm” was more like a chic little apartment, complete with a full kitchen, two bedrooms, and sleek decor that screamed privilege. The space was annoyingly Bangchan—polished, put together, and just distant enough to be intriguing.

“Cool place.” You muttered after he closed the door behind you. Scanning the room and trying not to sound impressed.

“Thanks.” he gave you a smile. “So, this is the kitchen.” He motioned to a modern setup that looked like it belonged in a Food Network show. Top class stuff. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” you replied, slipping your hands into your pockets. “Not just for the space but… you know, for helping.”

It was obvious that he was making this effort because the theater was important to his friends Seungmin and Hyunjin. Why else would he do all this? Still, you appreciated it.

His lips twitched into a grin. “Wow. Didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.” 

You rolled your eyes, biting back the retort bubbling at your tongue. Play nice. He’s helping. 

“Relax,” he added, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Just kidding. There’s booze in the fridge, by the way. Help yourself.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you said, sidestepping the offer.

“I’ve gotta sort something out with the coach,” he said, grabbing his phone. “I’ll be back in 20. Think you’ll survive here alone?”

Honestly, being in his apartment without him sounded like the best possible scenario. You gave a small nod. “Yeah, no worries.”

With that, he left, and the door clicked shut behind him. You exhaled, a long breath that carried the weight of the past few days. Now you were in enemy territory, surrounded by his world, and somehow, that felt far more personal than it should.

How had this become your life? Baking brownies in Bangchan’s kitchen? It was almost as absurd as sleeping with him—a mistake you’d promised yourself you’d never make. But here you were, crossing one forbidden line after another.

You weren’t exactly a disaster in the kitchen, but you weren’t a pro either. Somehow, though, in thirty minutes flat, four trays of brownies were baking away in Bangchan’s fancy oven. The rest of the kitchen, however, looked like a war zone. Eggshells piled in the sink. Flour scattered across the floor. Chocolate batter smeared on your shirt. Your skirt? A masterpiece of handprints from raw dough. But hey, it was all for the sake of art—and funding.

While you whisked and poured, you couldn’t resist turning on your favorite song, What Is This Feeling from Wicked. Singing along word for word, you hit every high note with a grin. That song had landed you the role of Glinda in high school, and the nostalgia hit you square in the chest. Those were good times. Simpler times.

The chorus was still ringing in your ears as you crouched to scrub a stubborn chocolate stain on the floor. That’s when the door swung open, and Bangchan walked in, freezing mid-step as he surveyed the chaos.

“Holy shit. Are you all right?” he asked, his tone somewhere between amusement and genuine concern.

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest as you scrambled to turn off the music. In your rush, your phone slipped from your flour-dusted hands and landed on the counter with a soft thud. You straightened, cheeks flushing. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, brushing your hands on your already-ruined skirt. “Sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up, I promise.”

He looked around, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. His eyes flicked from the chaotic kitchen to you, taking in the state of your clothes. “You’ve got something… there,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the chocolate smear on your shoulder.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze. “As soon as I’m done here, I’ll head back to the dorm and clean this up.”

Bangchan tilted his head, clearly unimpressed with your plan. “I can lend you a shirt. Might make you feel more comfortable.”

“No, no. I’m fine,” you said, waving him off. “But thanks.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. Then, without hesitation, he reached behind his neck and yanked off the black shirt he was wearing, leaving him in nothing but his jeans and a devilish grin. “Here,” he said, holding the shirt out to you like it was the most casual thing in the world.

You blinked, completely caught off guard. “You know you could’ve just grabbed another shirt, right? Like, one you’re not currently wearing?”

He leaned in slightly, the grin widening in a way that made your stomach flip. “And where’s the fun in that?”

For a moment, you just stood there, staring at him, equal parts annoyed and flustered. His shirt hung in the air between you, a silent dare. Finally, you snatched it from his hand, muttering, “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told,” he replied, unbothered, and strolled over to the counter like he hadn’t just walked into the kitchen half-dressed.

After a few minutes, you walked back into the kitchen, now wearing Bangchan’s shirt. It hung a little loose on you, the soft fabric brushing against your skin and carrying a mix of fresh laundry and whatever cologne he used. Not that you noticed. Much.

Bangchan was at the sink, scrubbing a mixing bowl. His back was to you at first, but when he turned around, his gaze lingered a second too long before he coughed and looked back down. “Did you know,” he started, shaking his head with a teasing grin, “that you’re officially the world’s clumsiest cook? There’s brownie batter... under the sink.”

You glanced at the cabinet beneath the counter, then back at him. “Hey, I said I’d clean up,” you defended, marching into the kitchen with your head held high. “And for the record, I never claimed to be a good cook. I’m just trying to help.”

Bangchan barked out a laugh, drying his hands on a towel. “Help? No fucking way. You’re a disaster, love.”

You froze, raising an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?” You crossed your arms, the oversized sleeves of his shirt only slightly undermining your indignation. “I didn’t see you stepping up to bake anything.. Let’s see you handle a whisk without breaking something.”

He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, clearly enjoying himself. “Trust me, I’d still be better than whatever chaos you’ve got going on here.”

Your lips quirked into a slow smirk, and you reached for the bag of flour on the counter. “Oh yeah? Well, let’s see you handle this.” Before he could react, you scooped a handful of flour and tossed it right at him, the fine powder exploding across his chest like a smoke bomb.

Bangchan froze for a second, blinking down at the mess. Then, his lips curved into a wicked grin that should have been your warning. “Oh, it’s on now.”

With your hands on your lip, you realized that you had fucked up. “I'm sorry, I...”

Too late. In the blink of an eye, Bangchan scooped up the sugar and poured it all over your hair. You stared, half-shocked, half-impressed by his audacity. You parted your lips to fire back, but before a word could escape, the sound of his laughter erupted from deep in his chest.

“Really? Is this how it’s gonna go?” You grabbed the cocoa powder with a grin. Oh, he wanted a war? You were so ready. “Bring it on,” you shot back, face lighting up with mischief. 

You were almost halfway to smearing him with chocolate when his hand shot out and stopped yours midair. The cocoa slipped through your fingers, and just like that, your plan hit the ground.

Then, you collided—chest to chest. Bangchan wasn’t laughing anymore, and you could feel the shift in the air, the heat between you two now undeniable. His lips curled into that damn smirk, the one that told you everything. Your heart was racing, but the thought of pulling away didn’t even cross your mind. The only question now was who was going to make the first move.

A silent battle passed between you two. His gaze locked onto yours, sensing the shift in your expression—less defiant, more... willing. And just like that, the tension morphed into something else, something undeniable.

Without hesitation, you leaned in, your lips brushing his. Bangchan’s breath hitched, a soft grunt escaping him at the sudden contact. Your hands, still coated with the remnants of your baking disaster, slid over his broad shoulders. You were a mess, sugar and flour everywhere, but somehow, it made everything feel a little more real. And Bangchan? He didn’t seem to mind one bit.

All he seemed to care about was having your lips on his. And fuck, you could feel how much he wanted it.

Bangchan grabbed your ass possessively, squeezing it and making a raspy moan escape your lips. You pushed him against the wall, without detaching your lips, savoring how the softness of his lips felt like cotton candy.

When you finally broke away, your chests heaving, your fingers still pressed into his skin, you met his gaze. His chest rose and fell beneath your touch, and you could feel the pull between you intensify again, magnetic.

“I should probably clean up this mess.” your voice broke the tension, but the realization hit harder than it should’ve. Bangchan was clearly fed up with your habit of diving in and then ghosting the consequences. 

“Don’t you dare.” his voice was low, the words like a command you weren’t about to ignore. His eyes locked with yours—intense. “You want this.” his lips brushed against yours, a tease that made your heart leap, while his words hung heavy in the air. “I know you do.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears, drowning out everything but him.

“Bangchan.” You whispered, barely able to breathe. The heat from his hardness spread like wildfire, and your body seemed to betray you. “We can’t.” you licked your lips—stupid, because he was already there, sealing your protest with a sloppy kiss, stealing that last ounce of restraint.

You were losing it. Why did he have to be so... goddamn good at this?

“Oh yeah?” he pulled away, just enough to make you regret the distance. “Tell me one good reason. Just one.”

You snorted, doing everything you could to hold it together, but the pull between you was undeniable. “Please.”

He tilted his head, lips twitching like he wanted to argue, but instead he closed his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath. “Fine,” he grumbled, walking away, but the air between you two still crackled.

The rest of the kitchen cleanup was like some strange form of punishment. You moved in sync, two people acting like they hadn’t just burned down every ounce of decorum in the room. The silence was deafening, the kind of awkward that made you wish you could pull the floor open and swallow you whole. But instead, you just scrubbed harder, hoping it’d drown out the thundering thoughts in your head.

He pulled away, no jokes, no teasing—just silence. It was like a switch had flipped, and the tension that had once sparked between you now lay dormant, suffocating. You didn't know if you hated the quiet or if you hated yourself more for letting things go as far as they had.

When everything was finally done, he still helped you carry your things to the dorm, his touch lingering just a little too long as he adjusted the bag over your shoulder. You were too busy battling the whirlwind of your own thoughts, replaying every moment, every look, and cursing both him and yourself for what you’d just crossed into.

You hated how easy it had been. How natural. And you hated even more that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to regret it—at least, not yet.

♡ taglist ― @kenia4 @chrizrizz @meerabmalik

[hoffmansgirl]

❛ 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 ❜ ⸝⸝⸝ nicholas alexander chavez cause good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught . 𓏲࣪ ּ  ֗ ⊹ 𓄹 ࣪

꙳⋆𓍯 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ nicholas chavez & goodgirl!reader

SUMMARY. boy next door nicholas sneaks through your window every night, when your parents go to sleep. this night, you want to give him all of you, for the first time. based on this request. ⟢

WARNINGS. +18 — minors dni! virginity loss ␥ softdom!nicholas ␥ oral (f!receiving) ␥ fingering ␥ grinding ␥ pussydrunk!nicholas ␥ handjob / male masturbation ␥ size difference ␥ fluffy fluff ♡ ┊ wc. 6197

"Honey", your mom's voice was warm and inviting as she peeped out from behind the door, her usual night robe loose on her shoulders. You lifted your gaze from the book you pretended to read, your legs swinging in the air — a small smile appearing on your face at the sight of her small form standing at the door. "I'm going to sleep. Don't stay up too late, okay? I love you", she blew you a kiss, not waiting for a response before disappearing behind the door.

"Sleep well! Love you!", you called after her, hearing her soft chuckle before she shut the door behind her. A soft sound of the creaking wood filled the air as she walked down the stairs, eventually fading away into the thin air.

You sighed with relief, throwing the long forgotten book onto the bed before rolling onto your back, finally deciding to sit up after a few seconds. You hurriedly got up, almost stumbling over your own feet as you reached for the light switch, turning off the big lights. Your room was now only illuminated by the fairy lights on the wall behind your bed, making the room cozy and warm — or at least, you hoped that's what Nicholas will think when he gets there.

You stood in the middle of your room, nervously chewing on your nails before lighting up one of your vanilla-scented candles. You made sure there was no worn out clothes anywhere on the floor, reaching for your phone immediately after.

You unplugged it from the charger, watching as the screen lit up with a new message. You sat down on the bed, crossing your legs, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you quickly clicked on the notification.

nic: green light?

You couldn't help but smile. It was his way of asking if your mother has already gone to sleep — without making it obvious and unnecessarily suspicious. Your mom never checked your phone, mostly because you never gave her reasons to, but you can never be too careful.

y/n (you): green light. i'm waiting :)

You quickly typed the response, catching yourself grinning like a fool. You straightened up the sheets, making sure everything was perfect, even though you knew Nicholas couldn't care less. Everything that mattered to him was spending time with you, even if it meant climbing a tree every night just to hang out for a couple of hours. Your heart was beating rapidly, and you felt as if it might just break free from your chest any second now. No matter how many times you saw Nick, it never got old — the butterflies, the flush of your cheeks, the wide smile on your face, the warmth in your chest.

You smoothed out the wrinkles on your little, black tank top, running your palms over your bare thighs — excitement starting to bloom in your lower stomach as you let your mind wander to Nicholas. You run a hand through your hair, tugging at the strands before nervously fixing it, smoothing it down with your palms.

Nicholas wasn't supposed to be anything more than your neighbour. He was the reckless type — always the life of the party, in the spotlight, attracting girls with a little to no effort. You, on the other hand, were reserved, always working hard so that you could meet your parents' expectations. You weren't innocent, no — but you never had a boyfriend. Not before Nicholas.

You knew your parents expected you to date a good boy from a good family, preferably a future doctor or a lawyer. Nicholas was the total opposite, though — he wanted to be an actor. During your, so called, "sleepovers", he'd often daydream about being on the big screens one day. And you knew he'd make it — and you also wanted to be there for him when he does.

His smile flashed in your mind, and you felt your cheeks grow warm at the thought itself. The way he made you laugh, the way he kissed you as if you were everything he ever wanted — how special he made you feel. You were always scared to take things further, to let him have all of you, mostly because you've never done it, and he seemed to have plenty of experience. But tonight, you were ready. You were ready to feel him, to feel all of him — to let you take control not only over your mind, but also body.

A loud shuffle of branches breaking, coming from just outside your window, caught you off guard. You were so deep in your thoughts the sound made you shudder, almost giving you a heart attack.

You stood up from the bed, pulling your little shorts further down your thighs, suddenly very nervous. You took a deep breath, hesitantly walking towards the window before opening it wide. The cool, night air flowed into your room, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your bare shoulders and legs. The smell of freshly mowed grass filled your nostrils, and you took a deep breath, savouring the quietness of the world outside. That was before Nicholas' huge form came into sight; his arms supporting his weight as he climbed up the tree right outside your window — and you couldn't help but notice the protruding veins adoring his forearms.

"Took you long enough", you teased, making sure to keep your voice quiet just in case your mom wasn't asleep yet. You heard a snarl coming from the man, as he, supported by the ledge, slipped into your room with a loud thump. He wiped his hands off on the back of his shorts, running them through his hair immediately after.

"Well, try climbing up that tree in total darkness — then we can talk", he playfully rolled his eyes, already reaching for your hand to press a soft, lingering kiss on the back. The sweet gesture sent a shiver down your spine, and you grinned like a fool, feeling your cheeks beginning to heat up. "I missed you. And God— you look beautiful".

His hands found place on your hips as he began to walk the two of you back towards your bed, and you giggled, falling against the soft pillows with a soft thump. Nicholas landed on top of you, supporting his weight on his forearms as he leaned down to press a soft kiss on your lips. You eagerly responded, tilting your head to grant him better access — your fingers already toying with the short hair on the nape of his neck as if you were starved to touch him; feel him.

In fact, you were.

You gently took his bottom lip between your teeth, playfully pulling at it, earning a soft hum from the man on top of you. Nicholas' knee found place between your legs, causing you to instinctively spread them, only to wrap them around his waist seconds later.

"How was your day?", he asked, pulling away from your lips to place soft, sweet pecks all over your face. You giggled, staring up at him with wide eyes — your gaze full of adoration that you couldn't hide, even if you tried.

"Good. Tiring, but good. Was pretty much studying the whole day", you shrugged, kissing his nose as he plopped down onto your soft sheets, making himself comfortable. Nicholas grinned, leaning forward towards you to put a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

"Hardworking little girl, aren't you?", he chuckled, studying your face as if trying to memorise every detail about it. You tried to ignore the tingling sensation between your thighs at his words — his praise going straight down to your core, causing your breath to hitch.

"And how was your day?", you cleared your throat, mindlessly toying with the ring on his forefinger. You didn't notice the way his gaze lingered on your — barely covered — thighs, only to focus on your full breasts seconds later. Then he looked down, watching your small fingers circle around his ring; the size difference between you two was ridiculous, now, that he started to think about it. "Good. Went out with Luke and Mike, y'know how it is. Drank a beer... or two", he laughed, and you rolled your eyes, rolling over onto your stomach to have a better look at him. You supported your head with your hands, studying his flawless face as if it was your first time seeing him.

His gorgeous, wide eyes were one of his best features. The way they light up as he spoke about something that excited him; how they darkened when he was feeling down or when he was angry. Now, they stared back at you with warmth that made your heart race and pulse quicken.

"How is it?", you questioned, putting your head on your palms. "How is what?", Nicholas furrowed his eyebrows in surprise, tilting his head.

"You know... getting drunk. Smoking. Partying", you looked down on your hands, toying with your fingers. You were suddenly growing shy, just now realising how dumb you sounded. "Sorry, that was really weird of me to ask".

"No, no! It's okay, sweetheart", he smiled sympathetically, reaching to take your hand in his, rubbing soothing circles on your knuckles. "It's... well, it can be fun. Not worrying about anything, the freedom. Just dancing the night away with your friends", he explained, and you nodded slowly, letting his words sink into the silence. You squeezed his hand, your gaze dropping towards the veins on his arms — his bicep stretching out the thin material of his white, tight shirt. Your mouth watered, and you felt the shift of atmosphere almost immediately; the air felt thicker with something unspoken lingering inside the room. Your eyelids felt heavy, and you knew he was looking at you — yet you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. Instead, you lifted your hand to trace the outline of his veins with your finger, your touch feather-like; imperceptible, as if you were scared to get ahead of yourself.

"Something on your pretty little mind?", Nicholas asked, and you noted his voice was lower than ever before. You gulped audibly, tearing your gaze away from his arms, instead focusing on his hand, still holding yours. His fingers were much longer and thicker than yours, and thick veins adored the back of it.

"Nick, I—", you bit your lip nervously, finally meeting his eyes. Nicholas nodded, squeezing your hand as if to reassure you — little did he know, his innocent touch sent even more shockwaves across your body, setting your nerves on fire. Your gaze lowered to his lips, and you found yourself licking your own, your body reacting on its own — you obliviously shifted closer towards him, your faces now inches apart. "I...".

Before you could finish, he leaned closer, his gaze travelling between your lips and eyes, as if he was asking for permission. You stared up at him, your eyes doe-like and oh so innocent — making Nicholas feel the unmistakable bulge starting to grow in his pants.

Almost in sync, you closed the remaining distance between the two of you, your lips meeting halfway in a bruising kiss. You didn't have much experience, so it was hard to keep up with the pace Nicholas set — his tongue sneaking in between your parted lips, meeting yours in a slow dance, leaving you breathless; and he barely even started.

Without breaking the kiss, you straddled his lap, towering over his thighs, your hair falling down onto the pillow behind Nicholas' head, making both of you giggle. Your hands found place on his cheeks, your thumbs caressing his soft skin, making him hum into the kiss. Nicholas' hands seemed to be everywhere at once, roaming over your back, the back of your thighs, then raking through your hair, pulling at the strands. You moaned, enjoying the little sting on your scalp, and immediately pulled away — embarrassed and afraid the sound might scare him off.

"I'm sorry, I don't know—", you stuttered, your hands shaking as you nervously put them on your lap, quite unsure what to do with them.

That was until you heard a low growl coming from Nicholas. Your eyes widened, and you let out a surprised squeal as pushed you back onto him, supporting you with his hands on your lower back.

"That was the hottest thing I've ever heard. You're gonna do it again f'me, okay?", you nodded, meeting his gaze with a hint of uncertainty — although a spark of excitement run down your spine at how desperate his voice suddenly sounded, as if he couldn't wait to hear the sound leaving your mouth again.

Then, his lips found place on your neck: sucking, kissing, biting the sensitive skin, his hands travelling up your back, brushing over your shoulder blades. You could feel him everywhere, but it still wasn't enough to make the pressure in your stomach snap.

"Nick, please— I need you so bad".

Your eyes were half lidded, pleasure clouding your vision as you instinctively bucked your hips against his. What you didn't expect was the feeling of his cock, hard and straining against his pants.

You gasped, and Nicholas groaned against your skin — the sound going straight to your core, your hips starting to move back and forth, the friction on your clit almost too intimidating. Nicholas stopped you with his hands on your hips, grounding you against him, his head falling back against the pillow as he struggled to keep his composure. His eyes fell open, meeting yours, a small, gentle smile playing on his lips. You could see he was holding back for the sake of your inexperience, a hint of doubt in his hard gaze.

"Are you... are you sure you want this? I don't want you to do something against yourself", he asked, his tone soft like butter, but an octave lower than usual. You let out a deep breath you didn't realise you were holding, and smiled softly. A light blush adorned your cheeks, your lips red and swollen from the instant kisses Nicholas gave you. He swore he could cum from the sight of you alone, especially when you looked down at him with those wide, innocent eyes.

He thought it was almost ironic, considering how greedily you kissed him back, how you practically humped his cock, needy and vulnerable.

"Nick, there's no one else I'd rather lose my virginity to," you assured, your gentle hands moving down his face to rest on his tense shoulders. The desperation in your voice was clear as day, and Nicholas let out a shaky breath, giving your hips a squeeze.

"Okay", he whispered, nodding, as if it was his first time, too. Truth is, he just wanted to make the moment perfect and the most enjoyable for you, even if it meant not getting a release himself. "Okay."

He lifted you up with no effort, gently pushing you to lay flat against the pillows, your hair spread out on the pillow, shining in the dim lightning. Nicholas spread your legs, watching your face in search of any sign of discomfort. When he found none, he leaned forward, kneeling in between your legs, his hands on both sides of your head. Your chest heaved with uneven breaths, the air heavy with anticipation, Nicholas' smell invading your senses. You bit your lip, your legs hooking around his waist to bring him closer. Your skin burned with desire when Nicholas' gentle hands sneaked in under the hem of your little top, lifting the fabric to rest just above your boobs.

"Fuck," he groaned, pulling his lip in between his teeth, his eyes locked on your boobs, petrified. Your cheeks burned, embarrassment starting to bloom in your chest, and you instinctively shifted to cover your tits with your arms. Before you could do so, though, Nicholas grabbed your arms, pinning them on both sides of your head — his touch sent shiver down your spine, his eyes leaving you no room to protest or get shy.

"No, no, baby", he cooed, squeezing your arms before letting them go, his hands moving down to linger on your chest instead. "You're fucking perfect. I wanna see all of you. Feel all of you. Let me."

His voice was rough, filled with urgency that left you whimpering and nodding frantically. You were left with no choice but to obey, gluing your arms to the mattress, looking up at Nicholas through your lashes. He looked so beautiful; hair messy, lips swollen and wet, arms flexing as he reached out to squeeze your breasts in between his long, thick fingers. Your nipples stood proudly in the air, reacting to his palm brushing against them as he palmed your breasts lovingly.

"Those fucking tits. You have no idea how long I've wanted this— how long I've wanted you."

As if to prove his words, he leaned down, pushing your boobs together, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples. You shuddered, a high-pitched moan leaving your mouth — his touch felt better than yours ever could. You were getting addicted, high on how he made you feel, and you never wanted to come down.

"I— I love your hands", you breathed out, your head tilting so that you could watch how his fingers worked on your flesh. The veins in his hands more prominent than ever, his big arms flexing, stretching the tight shirt he was wearing. Your mouth watered, your gaze lingering on his arms for way longer than it should, but how could you possibly stop staring?

"Yeah, you do", Nicholas chuckled lowly, his hot breath tickling your already sensitive nipples. That's when his lips enveloped your left bud, his tongue darting out to flick against it slowly, teasingly. You couldn't believe how good this felt, your hands instinctively tangling in his hair, pushing him impossibly closer. "You're always staring. You think I can't tell? What else do you love, baby?".

Your words died in your throat as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, moaning around it as if he enjoyed it more than you did. The sound sent vibrations down your body, your pussy clenching and leaking through your panties.

"I— Fuck, I love your veins. A-and your arms, and your chest— Shit." you groaned, clamping a hand on your mouth immediately after to muffle the sounds that oh so desperately threatened to leave your throat. Nicholas seemed satisfied with your answer, his mouth leaving your nipple with a pop. His breathing was heavy, jaw tight as he watched you with an unreadable expression.

"Good girl. Do you want my hands to make you feel good, baby?", he tilted his head, his hands rubbing soothingly against your hips, lingering just above the waistband of your little shorts.

His praise sent a jolt of electricity down your core, and you couldn't help but whimper, nodding frantically, your back arching in a quiet pleas.

"Words, baby. Need ya to say it, 'kay?", one of his hands travelled up your body, clamping down on your neck — not with enough pressure to choke you, but just enough to make your hips shake against him.

"Yes, Nicholas. Please, make me feel good— Need it so badly, baby", you breathed out, your small hand encircling his wrist, making sure he kept his own wrapped around your neck. Nicholas' eyes were dark, his gaze dropping to your hand enveloping his, and he gulped audibly at the sight. He quickly collected himself, his hand around your neck applying more pressure, making you moan out into the air. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolling back into your head, your hips rosing off the mattress to allow Nicholas to take your shorts off. It was a good thing you chose a nice pair of panties for tonight — the pink, slightly seen-through thong clung to your soaked pussy just right, catching his attention immediately. Nicholas cursed under his breath, throwing the unwanted fabric on the floor, his gaze not once leaving your form. You bit your lip, fluttering your lashes up at him, meeting his eyes, glistening with need. His hand left your throat and you wanted to protest, already missing the feeling — yet Nicholas' hand lingering just above your pussy immediately shut you up. Nicholas looked at you through his lashes as he positioned himself on his stomach, laying down between your legs, grasping your thighs, spreading them a little wider.

"You're already so wet, baby", he mused, petrified by the way your panties glistened with arousal, your barely-covered pussy staring right back at him. He licked his lips, his arms wrapping around your thighs as he placed a wet, open-mouthed kiss right on your clit.

Your eyes rolled back into your head, hips bucking into his mouth instinctively, yet his steady grasp on your thighs kept you still. Your breathing was heavy, uneven, your hand clasping down on your mouth to stop any sounds from escaping.

"Shit, you taste so good. Can't believe you've been hiding this pretty little pussy from me for so long", he groaned, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he licked a stripe up your covered pussy. You shuddered, unable to reply, your eyes shooting up to the ceiling as you moaned into your hand.

One of Nicholas' arms left your thigh, only to tug on your panties, his skilled fingers pulling the soaked fabric to the side, finally exposing your most intimate part to him. Your breath hitched in your throat, eyes pleading and wide as he kissed your inner thighs, his gaze following your every reaction.

"Nick, please— I need you s'bad", you whimpered, the tension in your stomach getting more unbearable the more time passed. Nicholas' teeth sank into your thigh, making you squeal and your back arch.

You've never thought you'd find so much pleasure in pain — God, you've never even thought you could be this turned on by someone. Nicholas was different, though, and he awakened a side of you you had no idea existed.

When his mouth finally enveloped your hot, leaking pussy, it was like nothing you've ever experienced. His lips closed around your clit, his tongue lapping your wetness as if he was starved. His groans were muffled by your flesh as he flicked his tongue, manoeuvring between long, precise licks and slow, composed swirls of his tongue. Nicholas forced your thighs even wider, his nails digging into the skin of your inner thighs, surely leaving bruises in the process. The thought of being so obviously marked by him made your pulse to quicken, your fingers raking through his hair to ground yourself as you moaned and wiggled against his tongue.

"S'good, fuck," you cried out, feeling the undeniable orgasm already beginning to build in your lower abdomen. Nicholas surely felt it too, by the way your thighs shook against his hands, your hands gripping his hair as if you never wanted him to stop. "Nick, I'm—".

You didn't finish the sentence; you couldn't — not when he sucked your nub into his mouth, flicking his tongue immediately after, obscene groans escaping his mouth the more he tasted you. He quickly got addicted to your sweet pussy; his nose brushing against your clit as his tongue dipped into your entrance, eager to taste as much of you as possible.

"Mmphm. Give it to me, baby", he mumbled lowly, his voice muffled as he once again focused on your clit. You were too high up to notice how Nicholas' hand left your thigh, sneaking in between your legs — his middle finger slowly pushing into you.

The intrusion made you gasp — not in pain, but in pleasure. A muffled moan followed soon after, your hips bucking into his hand, white erupting in front of your eyes as you came undone underneath his restless ministrations.

You weren't sure if you passed out, or maybe just stopped breathing for a moment — your pussy gushing into his mouth and onto his finger, your little hole clenching around the digit as he pushed it in deeper, the movements of his tongue slowing, guiding you through your orgasm. You tried to be as quiet as possible, but it wasn't easy when he made you feel this good.

Nicholas eagerly lapped on your pussy, swallowing everything you gave him, humming into your flesh; pulling away only when you let out a weak whine. His finger, now knuckle-deep inside you, curled upwards, and Nicholas felt his cock throb at how tight you were.

"Good girl, such a good girl f'me", Nicholas cooed softly, getting up to kneel between your legs, his finger gently moving inside of you as he leaned down to kiss you.

You were greedy, savouring the taste of yourself on his lips, your cheeks growing warm as his tongue rolled over yours, your uneven breaths mixing together. You felt his forefinger joining the one already inside you — you whined, gripping Nicholas' shoulder for balance, your walls gripping onto his digits like a vice. Unable to kiss him back anymore, you pulled back, your head falling against the pillow as your hips began to buck against his hand. You were growing hot, feeling as if you could faint from the overwhelming pleasure he gave you, his thumb brushing against your sensitive clit as his fingers fucked into you.

"Shit, you're so tight, baby," Nicholas groaned lowly, his lips pressing against your temple soothingly. "You think you're ready to take my cock, hmm?".

You nodded before he could finish the sentence, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks, pretty lips opening in another, appreciative moan.

"Need you to say it, sweetness," he urged, his hand brushing against your cheek in a loving manner. You felt your heart flutter as you met his gaze, dark and lustful, burning with intensity. Nicholas smiled down at you, and you returned the gesture through the haze of pleasure. "Yes, Nick. Just want you to fuck me", you begged, your hands already moving to the waistband of his pants, urging him to take them off.

Nicholas' fingers left you, and you whined at the loss, the sound dying in your throat as you watched him pull his shirt over his head, tugging his pants down along with his boxers right away.

His cock sprang free, hitting his stomach, and you gasped, audibly gasped at the size of him. It was way more than you had expected — sure, you knew he had to be big, but this? It... exceeded your expectations, to say the least.

Your mouth was agape, jaw slack and mouth involuntarily watering as you watched his cock bounce in the air, long and thick with a pretty, pink tip. You shifted closer, gawking up at Nicholas to see him already looking at you. His jaw was tight, eyes boring into yours with intensity that made your breath hitch. You wanted to reach out, wrap your hand around him — make him feel just as good as he did to you.

"Baby," Nicholas' voice was strangled, as if he was holding himself back, his hand reaching out to wrap around his cock. Your breath hitched as you watched him pump his leaking length — the veins in his arm popping out, his hand slowly gliding up and down, his eyes on you, as if you were the only thing that mattered. Before you knew it, you were reaching out for him, your hand resting on his thigh as you muttered: "Teach me."

Nicholas seemed taken aback by your words, but he quickly collected himself, the movements of his hand coming to a stop. "Fuck, you sure, baby?".

You nodded, brushing your thumb against his thigh in a soothing manner, feeling his muscles clench under your fingertips. Nicholas sent you a last, lingering look before his gaze hardened, his hand reaching out for your own.

"Shit. Okay— okay", he breathed out, instructing you to shift closer until you sat on the very edge of your bed. You looked up at him through your lashes, and Nicholas' breath hitched — the look of innocence and cluelessness on your face making his heart race.

"Wrap your hand around it," he instructed, and you did as he told you — you could barely do it, though, due to how thick he was. Nicholas' lashes fluttered, his cheeks growing warm at the feeling of your ridiculously small hand finally wrapping around him. His hand enveloped yours, guiding your own — your entwined hands sliding up and down his shaft, and Nicholas groaned, throwing his head back.

"Fuck, good girl. You're doing so good, baby", Nicholas breathed out, his hips bucking into your hand. You stared up at him, encouraged by the praise, deciding to take things a little further and slowly brush your thumb against his tip. Nicholas seemed surprise at your sudden boldness, his eyes boring into yours as his brows furrowed in pure bliss.

"Fuck, yes. You're not as innocent as everyone thinks, aren't you?", he groaned, forcing your hand to move faster, gliding along his shaft in a steady rhythm. Nicholas' breathless moans filled the room, his hips bucking into your hand with urgency, his chest glistening with a sheer layer of sweat. You bit your lip, your eyes following his reactions, pride filling your chest — you were the one making him feel this good. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!", he dragged out, jaw going slack as he neared his peak — faster than ever, he realised quickly.

Before he could cum, he yanked your hand off him, pushing you back against the mattress and slipping in between your legs, his breath heavy and uneven. You pouted, sending him a dirty look. "Hey, why would you stop? I wanted to make you feel good, too".

Nicholas lips curled upwards at your offended expression, a quiet chuckle leaving his mouth as he kissed the corner of your lips. "You did, baby. But now I wanna feel your little pussy wrapped around my cock, 'kay?". You nodded, maybe a little too enthusiastically for your own liking, yet your arousal was undeniable — you wanted this. You had no idea how he'd fit inside you, but you were sure he was going to make it work.

His hands were gentle as he spread your legs, his dark eyes staring up at you for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. When he found none, he smiled assuredly, wrapping his hand around his cock, giving it a few jerks.

Your breathing was heavy, eyes half-lidded as you watched him gently rub his aching tip against your clit. You hissed at the contact — he was hot, leaking and throbbing against you. Nicholas swiped his cock up and down your folds, gathering your wetness to cover his length, his chest heaving; it wasn't usual for him to be this gentle during sex, but with you, it was different. He has never felt so utterly connected to someone, and when he looked into your eyes, he felt a spark of warmth fill his stomach, flames licking his insides.

Nicholas kept your gaze as his tip pressed against your little hole for the first time. Your jaw dropped, eyes rolling back into your head at the stretch — and he had barely started. He was thick, barely able to move due to how tight you were, but he tested the waters by pushing further, until his tip was fully buried inside you. Tears brimmed in the corner of your eyes, and Nicholas leaned down to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, mumbling sweet nothings to calm you down.

"So tight, baby. Fuck, relax f'me, okay? You're squeezing", he muttered cutely, his breath heavy against your face, eyes squeezed shut to hold onto the last ounce of self control for your own sake. You nodded, your manicured fingers clawing at his shoulders for balance as you felt him push further.

You were sure your insides would be rearranged after he was done with you.

The pain was sharp but not unbearable, and you found yourself nodding, signalling that you were ready for more. Nicholas groaned lowly, gripping your leg for balance as he watched your pussy swallow the first half of his cock.

"You're— You're so fucking big", you cried out, and Nicholas whined, watching your teary eyes, mascara smudged on your hot cheeks, bottom lip quivering.

The words turned him on way more than they should.

"Fuck, baby— You can't say shit like that and expect me not to—", his words were interrupted by a loud cry coming deep from your throat as he pushed further in. You've never felt so full in your entire life; his length stretched you out like no one ever could. The feeling of the pulsating veins against adorning his pretty length against your velvety walls almost too much, your walls clamping down on him, as if to prevent him from leaving.

"Nick, shit— But you are. So fucking big, s-so, so good." you wailed when his hips smacked against yours, his cock now fully buried inside you. Your walls accommodated to his size, making room for him to finally fuck you the way he wanted. The way you both wanted.

"Shut up, just— No talking", he shuddered, clamping a hand down onto your mouth just as he began to thrust, slowly but deeply, making sure you could feel every vein, every throb of his length against your walls.

But you didn't have to speak. Nicholas could see it in your eyes — teary, wide eyes. Your lashes fluttered innocently, your expression almost making Nicholas cum inside you — it took everything for him to hold back, his thrusts gaining strength, his tip kissing your cervix every time he bottomed out.

If he was going to fill you up, he wanted to make sure you were tripping over the edge with him.

The smacking of skin filled your room, the air thick with tension, your cries and Nicholas' groans blending together, creating a song of its own. The feeling of his cock bullying its way inside you with every, precise thrust of his hips had you spiralling, and you knew you wouldn't last long.

Nicholas' hand on your mouth dropped next to your head, and he leaned down to envelop your lips in his. Your legs wrapped around his waist, causing him to reach even deeper inside you — he effortlessly swallowed your breathless moans, his own whines vibrating against your lips. You didn't have to speak — he felt you clench around him, and you felt him throbbing against your walls. Your hips rocked forward against him, his sculpted lower abdomen brushing against your clit with every, brutal stroke.

"Nick, I'm— I'm so close, baby", you wailed, raking your nails down his toned back, crying out as quietly as you could. "Cum with me, please, need it s'bad."

Nicholas could only nod, gripping your thighs tightly, his thrusts getting even more brutal, powerful and consuming, knocking the air out of your lungs.

"Want me to cum inside?", he groaned, not sure if he'd be able to pull out in time even if he tried. You nodded eagerly, chasing your lips with his, your orgasm hitting you, your vision going white, and he kissed you through it, his tongue exploring your mouth, addicted to your taste.

Your sweet juices covered his cock, creating a creamy ring around the base — Nicholas dropped his head, pushing as deep as he could go and finally let go, his seed spurting deep inside your greedy, fluttering pussy.

The feeling made you moan out, your whole body shaking, clit pulsating against his pelvis as he gave you a few weak thrusts, pushing his cum back inside you, already addicted to the way your pussy felt around him.

"Holy shit, baby", you dragged out, laughing slightly, your hands tangling in Nicholas' hair as he rested it against your neck. He could only chuckle weakly, shaking against you, gripping your thighs as if to ground himself.

"Are you okay, sweetheart? Wasn't it too much? Are you in pain?", he asked, lifting his head to study your face, concern clear in his expression. You grinned, your eyes half-lidded, chest tightening with affection.

"I'm fine, baby. Just wanna sleep. Will you stay with me?", you kissed his sweaty forehead, your arms securely wrapped around his shoulders, your voice shaking as he pulled out of you. You winced at the emptiness, and Nicholas chuckled softly, taking his shirt from the floor to wipe the cum — his own — oozing out of your fluttering hole.

"Of course, baby. Just lemme clean you up first". His hands were gentle as he did, smiling up at you, his eyes glistening with satisfaction and something else — something deeper.

"Thank you, baby. Just make sure to leave before my mum wakes up".

Nicholas could only chuckle at that.

❝ hoffmansgirl © 2025 | do not copy, translate, recreate or plagiarise my content. 𝗡𝗜𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗔𝗦 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗩𝗘𝗭 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ❞

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[waves-realm]

Sakusa Kiyoomi || Clean serve, messy heart

Sakusa Kiyoomi liked order. He liked routines, neatness, and knowing exactly what to expect. His world was made up of carefully folded towels, perfectly timed serves, and a comfortable distance from anything—or anyone—that could disrupt his sense of control.

Then you joined Itachiyama as the new team manager.

And suddenly, Sakusa’s world was an absolute mess.

It wasn’t dramatic, like in the romance movies Komori teased him about. There were no slow-motion moments or violins playing in the background. It was simple—too simple, really. You walked into the gym for the first time, clipboard in hand, offering a polite smile to the team, and Sakusa felt his heart do something completely unfamiliar.

A skip. A stumble. A full-on dive into chaos.

Of course, he’d never admit it.

Instead, he became strategic. If he liked you—and he wasn’t ready to use that word just yet—he’d be subtle. Calm. Rational.

But Sakusa’s version of "subtle" was… questionable at best.

He started standing a little closer during water breaks. Not too close—he wasn’t reckless—but definitely within earshot. He’d clear his throat unnecessarily when you were nearby, just to see if you’d glance at him. (You always did.)

When Komori caught him lingering near the supply closet where you were organizing equipment, Sakusa muttered, “Just needed a towel,” even though he was clearly holding one already.

But his real downfall? The small, thoughtful gestures he couldn’t help but do.

You’d casually mention being cold in the gym, and the next day, an extra hoodie mysteriously appeared on the bench—one that just happened to be his, freshly washed and folded. You’d struggle to reach a clipboard on the top shelf, and Sakusa would suddenly materialize beside you, silent but helpful, retrieving it without a word.

And every time, he’d walk away quickly, face slightly pink, pretending none of it meant anything.

One day after practice, you found him alone, wiping down volleyballs with mechanical precision. The gym was quiet except for the squeak of sneakers against the polished floor.

“Hey, Sakusa,” you called softly, stepping closer.

He stiffened, keeping his focus on the volleyball in his hands. “What?”

You smiled, unfazed by his usual curt tone. “Thanks for the hoodie the other day. It was really thoughtful.”

His hand froze mid-wipe. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “You’re always doing stuff like that, though.”

He finally glanced up, dark eyes meeting yours. His face was carefully neutral, but there was a flicker of something—panic?—beneath the surface.

“Well,” he muttered, looking back down, “someone has to be responsible around here.”

You laughed softly, stepping even closer now. “Is that what this is? Responsibility?”

He opened his mouth, probably to deflect again, but then he made the mistake of looking at you—really looking at you. The warm light of the gym reflected in your eyes, your smile soft and genuine, and suddenly all his carefully built walls felt paper-thin.

“…Maybe not just that,” he admitted quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

Your smile grew, your heart fluttering at the rare glimpse of honesty from him. “Good. Because I was hoping it wasn’t.”

For the first time since you’d met, Sakusa didn’t look away. Instead, he nodded slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips—subtle, quiet, but there.

Messy feelings, it turned out, weren’t so bad after all.

[pitchsidestories]

akward and desperate for love II Lena Oberdorf x Lioness!Reader

masterlist I word count: 1005

a/n: hi everyone, the oneshot is inspired by this request here, let us hear your thoughts on it. ❤️

You hated the initiation ceremonies at Bayern Munich.

It had nothing to do with the club. You loved it here. You adored the city, the familiarity of the club and of course your teammates.

But the initiation ceremony filled you with dread and nervousness on behalf of all the new players. Even now, two years after your own initiation, the thought of singing in front of your new teammates made your skin prickle with embarrassment.

At least as an established member of the team, you had the privilege to just sit back and watch. Which was easier said than done, considering that your girlfriend had just joined the team and would have to face the same fate as everyone else.

In contrast to you, she seemed very relaxed about it. Not relaxed, you suddenly realized. She was drunk.

You leaned over to Georgia who sat across from you at the table: “G, why is Lena tipsy? I thought the beers all had no alcohol.“

Your fellow England teammate made a face as if you had just asked her the worlds’ dumbest question before she finally answered: “You really thought they were okay with non-alcoholic?”

She nodded into the direction of your German teammates. Many of them enjoyed their occasional beer but in all your time here, you had never seemed to get into it.

“But they’re all labeled as… Wait, what mischief are you two up to again?”, you interrupted yourself, turning to Georgia and Lea who tried to hide a giggle behind her hand.

“Nothing.“, the only other lioness in the team grinned innocently.

“Lies. They refiled them with alcoholic beer.“, Sydney blurted out, clearly also a few drinks in.

“Shhh.“, Georgia tried to silence her.

Simultaneously, you felt Leas elbow knocking hard against yours. Excitedly she pointed towards the stage: “Y/n! It’s Obis’ turn to sing now!”

“Children, the lot of you!”, you playfully scolded your teammates before turning to Lea.

Your heart dropped for a moment and your eyebrows knitted together as you watched your girlfriend take the stage. You felt unnecessarily nervous for her.

“Oh god…“, you whispered.

She seemed completely unfazed, flashing her typical confident smile at the team.

Georgia yelled: “What are you going to sing?!”

“Before I start to sing, I want to say a few words first. The past weeks have been really hard because of my injury…“, she started, fully ignoring Georgia. You could tell from the redness of her cheeks that she wasn’t sober anymore and you silently prayed that no one would notice that she paused for way too long already.

“Yeah, tell us, Lena!”, Georgia once again shouted from her seat, prompting her to go on.

“And I couldn’t have done this without my wunderbaren Freundin and Lea. I might’ve lost against her in the Euros final, messed up the tackle, but won after sliding in her dms. Luckily, she agreed to meeting me privately afterwards. This song is dedicated to y/n.”, Lena continued grinning.  

With closed eyes you went back to the time two years ago. It has been the perfect weather for your home tournament in England.

The fan excitement grew over the weeks, your teammates and you have never experienced something huge like this before, your lives forever changed by that summer in 2022. Lena and you both were even younger than now, both hungry and felt like you got something to prove.

 In the final the playing style of the German annoyed you to no end, the midfielder was reckless on the pitch and her challenges against opponents was ruthless. You could never imagine falling for someone like Lena despite her big beautiful brown eyes and loud but very kissable looking mouth.

She turned out to be a different person off the pitch. The young player who was your age was funny, charming and kind. Even a bit shy because you were her first big romantic relationship which you couldn’t believe at first because Lena was so lovable once you got to know her.

“Glad I was mentioned too.”, Leas laugh brought you back to the present.

“Lea, you know that you’re her platonic soulmate, right?”, you replied warmly.

“I appreciate that, but she loves you way more.”, the blonde declared winking.

“I hope the song is over soon, everyone’s staring at us.”, your voice slightly muffled against the fabric of the striker’s sweater in which you hid your burning cheeks.

“Don’t worry, they’re actually staring at her.”, Lea tried to comfort you in a reassuring tone.

“I hope so.”, you muttered under your breath.

Later in the safety of your hotel room you glared accusingly at your girlfriend. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me. In front of the whole team!”

“Why? That was fun.”, Lena frowned.

“It was embarrassing.”, you sighed.

“Was it?”, she chuckled amusedly.

“Yes, for me, you know that I worked hard for the place I’ve in this team..”, you started.

“And?”, the German interrupted you smiling sheepishly.

“You don’t feel guilty at all, huh?”, you realized.

“Nope.”, Lena replied letting herself fall on to the bed arms wide open.

“You’re terrible.”, you shook her head before following her on to it.

“You think so?”, the brunette looked alarmed.

“No, not really, I’m just joking. Promise.”, you quickly added when you noticed her concerned face.

Sometimes you both got lost in translation her English wasn’t the best and your German basically non existing.

 “I do hope so.”, she answered sincerely.

“To be honest, I’ve never been this fiercely loved before.”, you admitted.

“You better get used to it.”, Lena said, kissing you, before pulling you into a hug.

“I’ll. Good night.”, you promised. A glance at the clock let you know that it was already past midnight, and you were having training early in the morning.

“What do you mean good night?”, the midfielder gasped.

“It’s late or isn’t it overdorf yet?”, you teased her.

“It’s never overdorf.”, Lena replied cheekily before showing you that the night wasn’t over it had only begun.

[strawberriesandhotmen]

Forbidden

a/n: Greetings, babygirls. I’ve been really into angst recently so I needed to indulge myself a little; I’m a sucker for this man in any and all scenarios, but fuck me if angst isn’t a topper on my list. 

pairing: rival!Punisher!Frank x fem!vigilante!reader

CW +18 smut: swearing, angst, hickeys (mention), fingering, begging, reader is a heartless little shit (but also horny so we love her)

word count: 3.5k

Forbidden.

You knew it was, you both did. And yet, somehow, neither of you seemed to give a damn.

It was only supposed to be one time; a one night stand, if you will, but you both knew that was bullshit the moment the agreement had been made.

Things had started off pretty casual; a quickie here, a blowjob there, nothing serious. Just fucking. You had intended to keep things that way; distant, far-removed (emotionally, that is). However, as most people are well aware, intentions often do not come to fruition. This situation would be no different.

You had first come into contact with the infamous Punisher on a mission of your own, attempting to extract some intel from the Russians that had recently made themselves known in the realm of ‘black market activity.’ Unfortunately for you both, Frank had had the same idea. You held your own, no doubt, feeling proud of yourself to even cut his lip in the slightest. But most people can’t take one punch from the Punisher, let alone five. Let’s just say, your jaw was very sore the next day.

You crossed paths one or two more times, each encounter holding more of the same, until a certain mission where the two of you were forced to work together. You couldn’t help that every time he cocked his gun your eyes snapped straight to his forearms. You couldn’t help the shiver that ran straight down your spine every time he uttered a word in that raspy voice of his. And, hell, who could be expected to help themselves with Frank Castle lying on top of them, shielding them from the barrage of bullets flying from the opposition? It was unbidden madness, but you found yourself welcoming it.

You could tell he felt the same, stealing side-long glances at you whenever you walked beside him, unnecessarily shielding you from incoming punches even though he could clearly see you handling it, his hand accidentally brushing against your hip at any available opportunity.

During that same mission, you began to realize the way your heart rate would pick up with each word that left his lips, and you started to understand what it is you were feeling. Well, you were feeling many things, truthfully; annoyance, exhilaration, hunger, but most of all…

Lust.

And that is how you ended up in your bed with Frank Castle. After all, you always got what you wanted, and it helped that he wanted it too. It didn’t end after the first time, with you ignoring the guilt you felt for compromising your morals in such a way. The reward, in your mind, far out won the risk. 

You couldn’t help but notice that nagging feeling, however, that you should put a stop to it, to all of it. It was dangerous, it was stupid, it was reckless. And yet, you found yourself once again falling asleep next to your antithesis, your paradox.

Frank woke up before you this time, a rare occurrence since he wasn’t really a morning person. The sunlight peeking through the blinds agitated his subconscious enough to awaken him, causing him to tiredly roll towards you. His eyelids slowly parted, his sleepy gaze landing on your angelic form.

Covered by only the thin white sheet, the silhouette of your body on full display to Frank, your hair creating a perfect halo around your head. You looked so peaceful, he thought, quite the contrast to your usual snarky attitude. 

Frank's gaze wandered down your body, taking in every single curve you had. His eyes continued to wander downward, pausing when his gaze landed on your hair. For some reason unbeknownst to him, seeing it spread out like that was extremely satisfying to him. Hell, even when it wasn’t spread out all over, it still looked good to him. His hand slowly reached out, gently grabbing a strand of your hair as he carded his fingers through. It was soft, full, and that was even after previous activities that had left you quite messy a few hours ago.

He moved a little closer to get a better look at your sleeping face. You looked really beautiful, he thought, when you weren't yelling at him or arguing about something. A small, uncharacteristic smile appeared on his lips before it slowly faded. They were supposed to be enemies…but why did you have to look so damn good?

You stirred softly in your sleep; not enough to wake, just to subtly turn your body towards him with a subconscious hum. Watching you turn towards him made something in his chest clench, but he pushed it away. He was supposed to be at war with you, not in your bed.

Despite his better judgement, he allowed his callused hand to continue running through your hair, slowly moving down to gently rest on your jawline as he quietly admired you. When he started to really feel like a creep, he decided it was time to wake you. He braced himself for you to lash out from exhausted frustration, gingerly shaking your shoulder. You must have already been on the precipice of consciousness, your eyes almost immediately fluttering open as your gazes connected. Looking down at you as your eyes opened, Frank couldn’t help but notice the way you looked at him. It was probably nothing, but he felt a tinge in his chest all the same. God, you had ruined him.

“Mornin’, princess.” he teased. You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the nickname, not appreciating it. You allowed your gaze to momentarily flit across his features, taking in the bruises and scars gleaned from his most recent mission.

“Morning.” You mumbled quietly, covering your mouth as a yawn overtook you. He chuckled softly at your tired response, watching as you yawned. You looked so cute and adorable like this, he thought, but he quickly shut himself down. Why was he getting so damn attached?

“You look a mess.” He teased again, his hand moving from your jaw to gently brush some of your locks away from your face.

“Well, I wasn’t the one who made the mess.” I shot back suggestively, sending him a look before averting my eyes to the ceiling. His face darkened slightly as a hint of a smirk appeared on his face, the memories of last night returning.

“And who was it begging for more, hm?” You rolled my eyes at his pompous reply, not dignifying his comment with a response. He chuckled, his hand trailing down and gently grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t even try it, princess. We both know you enjoyed it just as much as I did.” You uninterestedly mhm’d in response, continuing to shield yourself from experiencing any actual emotions. Letting go of your chin, he smirked again before leaning down to your neck, his lips gently brushing over a spot he’d left a mark on the night before.

“If I remember correctly, you seemed to enjoy it even more when I did this…” He paused for a moment before gently pressing his lips to the exposed skin of your neck, his hands running down your body before settling on your hips. He knew he shouldn’t be doing something like this, especially when he wasn’t supposed to be within ten feet of you, but the moment he was touching you again, all rational thoughts faded from his mind. He felt himself getting lost in you, just like he had hours ago. A small, yet all-too-influential part of him selfishly wanted more.

As your brain finally caught up to what was happening, your breath hitched at the intimacy before you pulled away, sitting up against the headboard with the sheet clutched protectively over your bare chest. He watched as you sat up, his mind still hazy with desire. He pushed it away, though, realizing that you were clearly not in the mood for anything. He rather presumptively assumed to himself that you were just tired from last night, that he must be just that good. Without a word, he sat up, his back leaning against the headboard to match you. It was silent for a few moments before he spoke again.

“You alright?” He knew you weren’t, but he knew he should ask all the same. You merely nodded in silence, not so convincingly. He studied you for a moment, noticing the way you held the sheet up, almost trying to hide yourself. Normally, he’d comment on it out of concern, but a rare voice of reason advised him to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he looked down at his lap, rubbing the back of his neck. The awkward silence nearly consumed the room before he spoke up again.

“Listen… about last night-“

“Don’t.” You rudely interrupted. You didn’t mean to be so harsh, but you had also assumed he was smart enough not to bring up the situation. You had agreed not to, after all. He paused for a moment, a bit surprised by the immediate cut-off.

“What, I’m not allowed to speak about it?” You sighed, looking straight ahead.

“It’s just better if we don’t. It was a mistake; we can recognize it like adults and move on.” Now that felt like a knife to his fucking heart. A mistake?

“...A mistake?” Frank felt a foreign sensation in his chest when you referred to it so dismissively. It wasn’t supposed to be a mistake; hell, it wasn’t supposed to be anything…so why did last night still feel so good to him?

“What, you don’t agree?” You finally looked over at him, your tone inconsiderate and rough. He was quiet for a moment before speaking again, seeming to consider his response.

“I think…” he paused, trying to figure out how to word what he wanted to say. “I think I enjoyed it way too much to call it a mistake.” You had to scoff at that, if for no other reason than to maintain your nonchalant facade.

“It's called sex, Frank, it's meant to be pleasurable.” You stated matter-of-factly, swallowing your desire to cover your naked body as you disappeared into your closet. He leaned forward, a part of him wanting to get up and stop you from walking away. At the same time, his eyes didn’t leave your body, taking in the view for a moment before you shut the door. He swallowed the lump in his throat before leaning back against the headboard, his eyes trained on the closet door as he spoke again.

“It’s not just that, and you know it.” You sighed heavily, having tried to avoid this very conversation for so long.

“Oh, do I?” Your tone was incredulous, haughty. You were desperately trying to push him away, not all that subconsciously. He was beginning to feel agitated. Why were you trying so hard to deny it? He thought you were past that point after last night, and now it was like you were trying to run away from him all over again.

“Yes, you do. and you’re trying to deny it because you don’t want to admit how much you enjoyed it.” He snapped back. His voice had wavered slightly at the end, almost not wanting to argue with you this time.

“The sex was great, Frank, but that’s all it was.” You thought you had him there, not picking up on the ‘just sex’ he had muttered bitterly under his breath. That sentence made him feel like he got punched in the chest. He knew he wasn’t supposed to feel like this, and yet the thought of it being just sex and nothing else made him feel… strange. He couldn’t tell if it was anger or sadness or disappointment or… all three. He didn’t respond for a few moments, his hands grasping the sheets tightly as he clenched his jaw.

“You’re full of shit, you know that?” He cursed himself, knowing he could’ve come up with something better if you weren’t such a damn mind-fuck. You chuckled darkly at that, finally emerging from the closet in panties and an oversized t-shirt that had been lying on the floor.

“Got me good there, Frank.” You patronized, not waiting for a response before walking into the kitchen. You didn’t have to tell Frank you were making breakfast; You always did, no matter if you argued or not. It was strangely domestic, but you chose to ignore the implications each time, and each time you kicked yourself for it. Frank grumbled under his breath at your attitude, making gibberish comments about your unnecessary stubbornness. He was one to fucking talk. 

After a moment or two of wallowing in his disdain of you, he decided to take a shower and clean himself off. He didn’t think himself very persuasive when smelling like fish. After drying himself off, he didn’t even bother putting on a shirt, only pulling on boxers and a pair of sweatpants he had left here a week or two ago. When he stepped out of the bathroom, the smell of bacon immediately found its way into his nose, improving his mood in the slightest. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, after all. 

He stepped out of the bedroom to find you at the stove, lightly swaying your hips from side to side while humming a tune he didn’t recognize. He thought you looked like a fucking goddess, messy hair and all. There was no way in which he preferred to see you more than right now, in just a t-shirt looking uncharacteristically domestic. He was fucking enthralled by you. Tearing himself from the doorframe, he padded up behind you and snaked his arms around your waist, his chin finding your shoulder. Your muscles tensed at the unexpected contact, but you forced yourself to relax as you heaved out a sigh.

“It’s almost done, you can sit.” You said without turning to look at him. He bit back a smirk, the smell of bacon and your obstinance filling him with a new determination. He was going to have you, and you were going to enjoy it.

“That’s alright, I’ll wait.” He declined, his breath fanning over your neck. You silently cursed your body for even registering the sensation, closing your eyes just long enough to regain complete control over yourself. Flipping a slice of bacon with tongs, you inhaled as you recognized one of Frank’s hands was beginning to move downward. The thought entered your mind to refuse him, but you were so painfully conflicted that you couldn’t bear to make the hard decision. You allowed his calloused and bruised hand to snake under your tattered shirt, smoothing down the skin of your stomach before pausing at the waistband of your panties. He wanted you, but not enough to forego consent. You turned off the burner, moving the bacon pan to the back and allowing your hands to grip the edge of the counter, silently giving him permission.

You heard him let out a sigh of, what was it, relief? And with that, his fingers edged under the lace, stretching dangerously close to your subtly pulsing clit. Damn him and his coercive tactics. He turned you on more than you cared to admit (at all times), but you had moved past being embarrassed about his affect on you, and he had moved past making childish comments about it. That is, he had moved past making childish comments about it. Emphasis is important.

“I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already so wet, princess.” You rolled your eyes, not appreciating his pridefulness (not that it wasn’t completely valid).

“Bullshit, you haven’t even touched my-” You cut yourself off with an involuntary gasped as Frank’s middle finger slipped in between your folds, your body immediately betraying your previous protest. Shit.

“Fuckin’ soaked.” He huffed, sounding almost shocked at the truth behind those words. Yeah, it was shameful. You were much too turned on to even consider uttering a word, apprehensive as to whether or not your body would force a moan out of you instead.

“Not much to say now, huh?” He chided as he brushed against your clit, causing your grip on the counter to tighten in both annoyance and arousal. “What’s wrong, princess?” His lips grazed over the shell of your ear, nipping lightly before that husky voice spoke again. “Cat got your tongue?” He was a fucking menace. He was pissing you off to no end, and yet all you wanted him to do at this very moment was fuck the actual life out of you.

“Shut up, F-Frank.” Pitiful. Anyone could see through that stuttered facade. At this point, you had accepted the fact that he knew how much your body wanted this, even if your mind was screaming fifty different ways to kick him out and never be in this situation again.

“Oh, so she speaks.” What a little shit. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was only doing it to give you a taste of your own, heartless medicine. He must’ve gotten bored, slipping his finger through your folds, because he was now teasing at your dripping entrance, clearly planning to invite himself in.

“She’s so ready for me, princess. Feel that?” He whispered huskily in your ear, not waiting for a response before shoving his finger inside you up to the knuckle. Your mouth dropped open and your breath caught in your throat as he immediately found that spongy heaven inside of you, your grip on the counter so tight you thought you might break it. Frank let out a groan of satisfaction, soon beginning to pump his finger in and out of you at a torturous pace. You could see what he was doing now. He wanted you to beg.

But you wouldn’t. No fucking way.

Frank pressed his chest against your back, his bulge poking into your thinly covered ass from behind. He knew what he was doing, increasing his pace just enough to make you want more…a lot more. It was growing difficult for you to swallow back moans, to hide the gasps that caught in the back of your throat with each pump of his long finger. And just when you had felt like you had reigned in your breathing once again, he shoved a second finger into your tight, dripping hole.

Okay, so maybe you would beg.

“Fuck, Frank.” You gasp out, your hands starting to cramp as you continue to hold onto the counter. You can practically hear the smirk that spreads across his lips at your exclamation, but you were far from bothered by it at that moment.

“What’s that, darling? Something you need?” You squeezed your eyes shut at his cocky taunt, involuntarily clenching around his fingers as they ravaged you.

“F-Frank-” The plea caught on your tongue like a stale taste, foreign on your lips. You didn’t want to beg, you were sure you didn’t, except the thought of doing so sparked a fire so deep inside you that you weren’t so sure at all.

“You can do it, sweetheart, let go.” The way his breath fanned over your ear sent tingles down your spine; you wanted to let go. With a deep breath and a whimper escaping your lips, you did.

“Frank, please.” You had expected a patronizing reply, more taunting even than before. However, the response you got boiled down to a deep groan rumbling from his chest, his lips latching onto your neck as if he were holding on for dear life. His pace increased to an inhuman speed, punching your g-spot with each thrust with expert ability. His palm smacked against your puffy clit, your thoughts clouded by pleasure alone, that impending high just within reach. Your moans echoed across the walls, coupled with Frank’s groans of satisfaction. When you finally came, you didn’t think you’d ever felt so good in your life. Maybe it was the suspense, maybe it was how taboo it all was…or maybe Frank was just that good. But you didn’t care, after this you knew all you wanted was him. You had denied yourself for so long, and you didn’t want to anymore. He was yours.

After you came down from your high, Frank gingerly turned you around and pulled you into his chest, breathing heavily himself. He allowed his lips to ghost over the skin of your neck, placing light kisses here and there.

“So beautiful, baby.” The words were tender, meant. You had never heard such sincerity from him, and you felt as though you wanted to hear it again and again.

“Frank?” You whispered, tilting your head upward to meet his gaze. He looked down at you, bringing your foreheads together.

“Yeah?” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you sighed.

“What is this?” You felt terribly stupid for even asking that question; it was childish, cliche, but in this situation, all too necessary. An unexpected smirk spread across his face, and he placed a chaste kiss on your lips before rasping out his reply.

“Forbidden.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Fluff with jiyan? The rest is up for you :3

Idk where this went as this feels more crack than fluff.

Long before he was a general he was a medic, and with that came a need to treat each and every one of your injuries, whether it be a paper cut or a burn jiyan felt the need and the duty to care for it and see it heal properly.

So that’s exactly what he did and it never failed to amuse you.

‘Must you always be reckless with yourself?’ Jiyan would find himself asking as he finishes up covering the cut on your upper forearm.

‘Must you always resort back to your medic days whenever I get hurt?’ You retorted, looking at his work and taking note of how the bandage didn’t feel neither loose nor too tight, it felt just as it should if it were done by the hands of a professional. It amazes you that the same calloused hands that meticulously covered your wound were the very same calloused hands that now leads an army into battle, it wasn’t something your mind couldn’t quite grasp yet despite how long you’ve been with him.

‘I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t go out and get hurt by a rouge Gulpuff.’ Jiyan replied as he crossed his arms over his chest while you smiled sheepishly at the mention of how you got where you were in the first place. You didn’t see that Gulpuff coming and that was your biggest mistake.

‘It came out of nowhere!’ You cried, waving your arms and immeditly regretting it when pain flared within your injured arm.

‘Even if you didn’t see it coming, you would’ve still been able to hear it coming.’ Jiyan explained but the moon upon your face told him all he needed to know as he added. ‘Unless you were listening to music unnecessarily loud, again. I’ve told you the danger that poses to your hearing.’

You pouted, not one for liking when Jiyan was disappointed in you. ‘Then they shouldn’t make music that makes me wanna rail loosing my hearing for.’ You muttered under your breath as Jiyan could only run a hand down his face. You were certainly something so he wasn’t quite certain why he was acting as this was anything new but getting ambushed by some Gulpuffs while listening to loud music was defiantly…something.

‘Then at least promise me that you’ll listen to music at a moderate rate, or at least have one earphone out while you’re out on your explorations, the last thing I want is you getting seriously hurt and I’m unable to help.’ He then asks as he holds your face in his hands, looking at you intently with his golden eyes.

‘I promise,’ you muttered as you melted into his hold, ‘I promise I’ll stop if it gives you peace of mind.’

Jiyan kisses your forehead before pressing his forehead against yours. ‘It very much would my dearest, it very much would.’

*a week later*

‘A Gulpuff attacked me.’ You told jiyan as you pointed to your forehead where your most recent injury was, teary eyed.

Jiyan only sighed as he got the first aid kit from the kitchen but while retrieving it he couldn’t help but smile to himself, you truly knew how to make life entertaining, even if it was your unspoken rivalry either some Gulpuffs.

[to-thelakes]

Luke confessing his love for reader during a screaming match/fight after confronting an unsub went wrong and reader being confused as to why he's telling them that now

faltered

pairing; luke alvez x fem!reader

summary; after you put yourself at risk, once again, luke finally snaps but the argument doesn't go in the way you expect.

warnings; fluff, angst, love-confession, happy ending, not proof-read

notes; is this proof-read? hell nah, is it good? honestly, anyone's guess, i am so so so so so bad at writing characters being angry because i just... honestly forgive people WAY too easy and i can't stay mad at people for long. i can probably count on one hand the amount of times i've actually been mad so this was a little experiment for me. and honestly, this little request/ask/whatever had me inspired and i wrote the dialogue last night and then finished it today so here is my little drabble/1.3k word one-shot about this scenario

“What the hell were you thinking!” Luke raged as he closed the hotel door behind him. You clenched your jaw, turning back to glare at him. You couldn’t believe this.

“I saved her life!” You snapped back as you looked up at him. He scoffed, throwing his hand up to gesture at your wound.

“Look at your face! You put yourself in the line of fire unnecessarily,” He argued back. You stared at him, in complete disbelief.

“I did what I thought was right,” You said, voice still loud but not quite shouting at him this time. You could feel the rage bubbling and you felt guilty enough that you didn’t need Luke shouting at you like your cheek hadn’t been slashed open.

“You knew that wasn’t the right call,” He responded, crossing his arms over his chest. You turned around briefly but his words stopped you in your step. You turned to face him.

“I had to do something!” You raged, anger jumping back to the surface within seconds.

“And letting the Unsub get you was the way of doing that, huh?” He questioned, venom lacing his tone. He couldn’t believe you had been so reckless and you didn’t understand why Luke cared so much.

“Yeah! I needed her to get away and if that meant I got hurt, oh well because she’s alive!” You argued, throwing your arm out as you spoke. Luke shook his head, disbelieving.

“No, we had a plan. You put that plan in jeopardy!” His voice raised at the last word, anger morphing his features. It would have bothered you if you weren’t equally as fired up, “If JJ hadn’t been there, you’d both be dead!”

“JJ was there, Luke. So, don’t give me this shit!” You shouted back before you turned around and grabbed your to-go bag. You wanted to get back to the team. You weren’t even sure why you let Luke come with you. Maybe you thought he’d be a comfort but he wasn’t. Of course, he wasn’t. You should have known.

“And what if she hadn’t been, huh?” He asked, voice levelling out as he stepped towards you. His arms still crossed over his chest.

“It doesn’t matter,” You retorted as you glanced over your shoulder. You were stuffing your clothes into the bag haphazardly, hoping that you could just leave this alone. But Luke wasn’t willing to give up it seemed.

“Yes, it does!” He practically shouted and you threw your last piece of clothing into the bag before you whirled on him.

“Why! Why does it matter so fucking much?” You were at your wit’s end with him. You were in pain, you were upset and you didn’t need this, “I’m alive, I’m here, I’m part of the team still! Prentiss isn’t mad at me so what gives you the right!” You were shouting again, rage bubbling over as you stepped towards him. You met his gaze defiantly.

“Because I love you!” He shouted back and you fell silent. Luke’s face suddenly morphed from anger to regret and he stepped back. You just stared, the silence permeating between the two of you. You didn’t know what to say. You were speechless and you just stared. 

“What?” You asked softly. All the anger had flooded out of you like the plug pulled out of sink and all that was left in its wake was confusion.

“You put yourself in the line of fire, again,” He tried to swerve away from his confession, ignore it. He tried to go back to what the argument had been about but you cut him off;

“Luke,” You tried to say something but you words seemed to falter. He looked at you for a moment and you opened your mouth before you frowned, “What do-?” You wrapped your arm around yourself, stepping back from him.

“You-” Luke faltered for a moment before he tried to inject the anger into his tone, “That is the second time you’ve put yourself in the line of fire. You can’t-” But the anger seemed to falter again. You were looking at him with an expression he couldn’t read and his words hung heavy on his tongue. Your mind was whirring with thoughts and you were trying to pick them apart, make sense of something.

“Why would you say that now?” You asked. He had never heard your tone so soft and guilt reared its ugly head in his chest. But also, that familiar sting of rejection began to creep in.

“What? What do you mean?” He replied, frowning down at you. You sighed raggedly.

“You can’t just throw around a confession like that,” You mumbled. Luke stepped back again, his face fell and you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. You didn’t know what to think. You had loved Luke for so long. That’s why you had trusted him to come with you to the room but this, this was unfair.

“I wasn’t trying to-” But you cut him off with a soft; “I know.” Realistically, you did know that he wasn’t trying to use it as a guilt trip but it still felt so cruel. Why couldn’t he have said it some other time? Why now?

“I don’t understand why you’re so reckless,” He said after a beat of silence. You scoffed.

“It’s not recklessness, it’s a calculated decision,” You responded, wanting to shut this argument down before it even started again. Your anger wasn’t clouding your thoughts anymore so you thought you might as well explain it to him, “I knew JJ was behind me. I knew she’d be able to catch him. We had the profile wrong and I realised that. I didn’t have a choice. He was about to kill her.” Your gut twisted as you held yourself tighter. The sting of the knife against your cheek was still so fresh to you. You were lucky.

“And you got hurt,” He responded. You shrugged.

“But we’re both alive and I’m not gonna apologise for doing what I thought was right.” You said simply. He nodded and he stepped towards you. It felt hard to swallow as you stared down at the floor, unable to meet his gaze.

“I don’t expect you to,” His words were a simple reassurance but it made you feel a little lighter. You sent him an awkward half-smile, mumbling;

“Good.” There was silence for a few beats before you took a deep breath. You just had to say it, “But for what it’s worth, I think I love you too.” It was Luke’s turn to be silent this time and he stepped towards you. There was quiet for a moment and you chanced a look up at him. The frown had been replaced with a cheeky smile and you rolled your eyes at him, turning to look away.

“Huh,” He let out, the smile turning into a smirk as he stepped towards you. He wrapped his arms around your waist tugging you closer and you let him. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you looked up at him. 

You knew what he intended to do and you were quick to put your finger against his lips, stopping him from leaning any further, “Don’t even think about it, Alvez. Take me on a date first,” You stated. A grin began to spread across your face and you wished you could stop it but you couldn’t.

“Then let’s go out tonight,” He suggested. You hummed in thought before you nodded and pulled him against you.

“Okay,” You said. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly, “As long as you kiss me goodnight,” You whispered against his skin. He chuckled and nodded his head against your hair.

“I can do that.”

<3

[foxesscramble]

Advent Calendar: Day Nine

Playing in the Snow - Only One Bed - Rivals AU || "Take me instead."

Jean x Jeremy

@allforthegamebingo

_____

Jeremy was absolutely exhausted. Their game had been reckless and violent in a way he hadn’t appreciated. He knew that his team was pretty far on the nicer side of the game but it always sucked playing unfair and unnecessarily brutal teams. 

All Jeremy wanted to do was collapse on his hotel bed and sleep for eight years. He was rooming with Jean back in California so sharing a hotel room for the night was nothing. He had been a little nervous, considering the relatively new and frankly massive crush he was sporting for his friend, but at this point, he was so tired he couldn’t even find it in himself to care. 

It had taken everything in him to stay awake for the ten minute bus ride from the stadium to the hotel. Laila allowed him to continuously drop his head to her shoulder before jolting back up. 

Jean walked closely behind him as the team entered the hotel, and Jeremy could tell it was more for his own benefit than Jean’s. Jeremy, in a half-asleep daze, let himself tip back and rest against Jean’s chest as Coach talked to the hotel receptionist. Jean tensed a little, and Jeremy tried to pull away weakly, but Jean just wrapped an arm around him to keep him against his chest. 

Coach was taking too long to get room keys and Jeremy, suddenly far too comfortable, found he no longer had it in him to keep his eyes open. It felt like seconds but suddenly everyone was talking at once and Jeremy’s eyes opened lazily. There was some sort of debate happening and he tilted his head up to look questioningly at Jean. 

“There was a mix-up with rooms and one of the two-bed rooms only has one bed,” Jean said quietly. Jeremy huffs and closes his eyes again. “We can take it. I just want to go to sleep.” Jean stayed quiet for a moment and alarms started ringing in his head. “Only if that’s okay with you obviously. Otherwise, I will valiantly fight for a two bed room.” Jeremy felt more than heard Jean laugh. “You’re dead on your feet, Captain. I think you’d probably be fine with the hotel floor.” Jeremy laughed tiredly and nodded because honestly, that’s probably true at this point. “Coach, we’ll take it.” Jean hadn’t raised his voice but their team went silent nonetheless. Coach glanced at both of them and held out the room key to them.

Coach looked at the team and squinted. “At least someone can step up on this fucking team.” A few of their teammates boo-ed and Jeremy felt a laugh bubble up. 

Jean pulled back and put a hand on the small of Jeremy’s back as he led them to the elevator. “We’re on the fifth floor tonight. Give me two minutes to get you to the room and then you can crash.” Jeremy could’ve cried at the thought of sleep he wanted it so badly right now. “Thank God.” He was especially grateful that he had chosen to shower at the stadium instead of waiting until he got back to the hotel.

Jeremy waited (im)patiently for Jean to unlock the door to their room before throwing his bags down by the table and flopping rather dramatically onto the bed. Jean placed his bag carefully on his side of the bed before going to the bathroom to change and brush his teeth. Jeremy debated the pros and cons of brushing his teeth before finally deciding that he would feel too gross not to. 

Stumbling slightly as he made his way to the bathroom he got ready for bed quickly. When he finally crawled into the bed, Jean was already lying down and scrolling through his phone. Jeremy let out a huff and rolled onto his stomach reaching his arms around his pillow and taking a deep breath. 

He turned his head towards Jean and studied his face for a moment. Jean was breathtaking on a bad day but at night in soft clothes and an even softer presence he was ethereal. Jean turned his head to meet Jeremy’s eyes. He smiled softly at him and watched as Jean placed his phone on the charger. 

“You doing okay?” Jean asked gently. “I’m fine,” Jeremy answered at an equally quiet volume. Jean turned away momentarily, a fond, faraway look crossing his face. Jeremy realized quite suddenly that he stared at Jean enough to know that that was his Neil face. He has a Kevin and Neil face which are similar but entirely different at the same time.

“We played well tonight. They were a vicious team but we played well. You were great.” Jeremy whispered with a sleepy smile. Jean laughed lightly and brought his hand up to pat Jeremy’s head. “D’accord, mon ami, time for bed.” Jeremy would be dreaming of Jean’s accent for sure. “Alright, alright. Just warning you now though I get cold at night and tend to seek the warmest thing which will be you. If I wake you up or get too close just shove me.” Jean laughed and ran his fingers through Jeremy’s hair. Jeremy’s eyes were impossibly heavy and he felt a sense of relief at finally getting to close them.

“Pas de problème, mon cœur.” 

If Jeremy rolled on top of Jean in the middle of the night and Jean wrapped an arm around him to pull him closer, that was for them to know and them alone.

[deadlyflames]

I have to say, I was absolutely obsessed with your Reverse Falls AU back in the day (still am tbh), and it was/is my favourite version of any Reverse Falls AU that had been done. I love that Gideon and Pacifica weren’t just given Dipper and Mabel’s personalities like a lot of other versions of that AU, and that they felt like the better version’s of themselves. I’m still wondering what the plot was gonna be concerning what Stan was up to and with Ford being trapped in the portal and such. Regardless, your writings still have a chokehold on me, so thank you <3

Thank you so much! I'm so happy to you enjoyed it. I love getting messages like this <3

I don't think I'll finished my own full version of the plot as I planned to, because it was kinda intense. But I'm very glad I made all those one shots and that they make people happy. I loved writing them and I still adore this AU.

TBH, I had a huge plan for the Stanford backstory and it was so unnecessarily complicated. Theres stuff I would keep but other stuff I would probably axe.

Short version is Stan and Ford moved to Gravity Falls when they were 12. They befriended a young Carla and Fiddleford and the four of them formed a little scooby gang that would solve the mysteries of Gravity Falls.

A young Ford stumbles upon the cave with the incantation to summon Bill and he translates it. So a young Pre teen Ford meets Bill much earlier than in canon and this influences him for the worst.

Stan doesn’t break his machine, Ford still gets rejected and this sends him on a dark spiral. He leaves town without a world.

Ford still builds the portal and falls into it, but this time it wasn't an accident and he was pushed in it on purpose. By Stan. 😬

The one who is actually trying to open the portal in this AU was Pacifica's mom. 😱

Here's a link to a more detailed timeline of these events - be warned - its hella messy.

Even tho I’ll probably never finish this story, it has a special place in my heart. ❤️ So I’ve included the draft for the first chapter of the official reverse falls au and my other chapter plans below the cut.

You didn't ask for it so ... here you go.

Play It In Reverse

While working for their Granny Carla, Pacifica and Gideon come across a nameless journal with mysterious content. They start to unravel the secrets of their home town, but they find some things are better left hidden when their path crosses with the Pines twins.

Ch 1 - Part Time Tourist, Full Time Trapped

Priscilla Northwest had not been happy when her daughter had brought up that she wanted to get a job for the summer break. Priscilla had stated that it was below a lady of her station to have a part time job and work for one of the lowbrow hicks that lived in the town. Besides, what was the point in getting a job when they were already rich.

But Pacifica had been persistent and Priscilla had seen the fiery rebellion in her violet eyes. She wouldn't easily back down from her position, not without constant tantrums and complaining. The child had always been annoyingly stubborn when she set her mind to something. Though Priscilla couldn't say she was much different when she was Pacifica's age.

She didn't really want to deal with an angry reckless teenager when she had a city to run. And she doubted Preston could keep Pacifica in line on his own. And it would be much easier to continue with her work if Pacifica wasn't wandering about the mansion on a constant basis.

The more Priscilla pondered on letting her daughter get a summer job, the better the idea seemed. The only problem was finding a place for her to work. She wouldn't let Pacifica be caught dead laboring in the greasy lumberjack diner. Priscilla would have to make sure that she had a respectable job with a trustworthy employer. An employer who wouldn't mind being saddled with a fourteen year old girl with no previous work experience and no knowledge of how to work for a living. It would be a difficult task, even for the mayor of the town. Priscilla was gifted in finding the right strings to pull to make sure things would work out to her design, and she didn't doubt her abilities. But not many respectable people would accept taking on a new employee for the entire of summer when the season had just started.

Acquaintances were unlikely to accept Pacifica, but family was another story.

Long and short term plans formed within her mind as she reached out to pick up her phone. Dialing a familiar but unused number on her phone, she took a deep breath as she brought the receiver to her ear.

An eccentric voice answered on the third ring. "You've reached the Mystery Shack, home of the legendary swamp beast foot. Just the left foot though, the rest of him is still buried in the swamp, plotting a way to find his missing limb. If you'd like to see it for yourself, come on down and enter-"

"Mother," Priscilla said to the woman on the other end, cutting off her sales pitch. "It's Priscilla."

The friendly tone in her mother's voice flipped on a dime. "Ah Priscilla, thought you might call," Carla stated with clipped sarcasm. "It's only been a year."

She cringed to herself in response to her mother's attempt at guilt tripping her. She hadn't called in order to get told off for not keeping in contact. Even though she was sure that her mother would love to focus on that subject.

"You know how busy I am, mother," Priscilla replied flippantly. The response left her lips before she could think better of it. Too late to take it back now. She examined a bit of paper work that had been pushed off to the side of her desk. Something to focus on other than the rant her mother was going to go on.

"Too busy to keep in touch with the family?" Carla snapped, temper showing in the sharpness of her voice. "Honestly Pris, I haven't seen you in years, and neither has Gideon. And seeing you on TV does not count. You haven't even called or written. We live in the same town, for god's sake. I've barely seen any trace of my granddaughter, who I also haven't seen in years, by the way."

Priscilla's ears perked up at that last sentence and her mind raced to engineer the perfect speech. Immediately, she adjusted her voice and spoke in an pleasant tone. "That's actually why I called you," she stated diplomatically. Lies spun out of her mouth like spiderwebs, laced with ulterior motives and secret plans. And like a spiderweb, they entrapped the woman on the other end. "Pacifica has been so consumed with her studies for the past few years, I thought it would be good if she had a break. I was hoping that you could let her work for you this summer, since you aren't particularly well staffed. It would be a great chance for you to bond."

There was a long pause on the other end, and Priscilla wondered if her mother was able to see through her. If anyone could, it was her. But even if her speech had rung false in her mother's ears, she doubted the woman would pass up the chance to spend time with her only granddaughter.

"So, you want me to take your teenaged daughter off your hands " her mother asked, a hint of amusement in her tone that Priscilla wasn't particularly fond of. "Alright, I'll let her work for me. On one condition."

The word condition alone was enough to tense her muscles and cause an uncomfortable flexion in her fingers. However, despite an initial discomfort, Priscilla kept her composure, because this was her mother and she rarely had an ulterior motive that extended beyond extra family time.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked with a neutral but polite tone that never betrayed her emotions.

"Pacifica stays here at the shack, it'll be like summer camp," her mother chirped, and Priscilla could tell she was smiling on the other end. "Plus I won't have to waste gas money, driving her back home."

The idea of Pacifica sleeping in the musty old shack Priscilla had despised in her childhood, made her cringe with disgust. However, it lined up with her motive to keep her daughter out of her way for the summer. Besides, it would be a good learning experience for her daughter, experiencing how the lower class lives. Perhaps she would finally understand the difference between the Northwests and everyone else in this town. Perhaps she would return home and actually be grateful for everything Priscilla had given her.

So, despite the revulsion that twisted her stomach when she thought of her daughters perfect blonde locks resting on the stained and unkempt beds of her childhood room, Priscilla kept a cheery tone. But not too cheery and with just the right amount of tension in her vocals. "That sounds wonderful."

She could practically see the triumph in her mother's eyes when she replied. As if taking in a teenager for the summer was some great victory. "Swell, you can drop her off this weekend." With that Carla hung up the phone, probably feeling very proud of herself.

There was a twitch at Priscilla's lips when she hung up the phone. In another life, if she had been burdened with a lack of ambition like other pretty girls, she probably could have become an actress.

Xxx

A small group of shuffling tourists pilled into a small, dark room. A young boy stood at the front of the group, leading them further into the darkness. Once the last person entered the room, the door slammed shut behind them, startling the tourists inside. Even in the darkness, people were able to see the little boy's light up shoes and the glimmering rhinestones adorning his cap. He was the only thing their eyes could follow as he came to stand on a platform.

"Now y'all gather in close," the boy stage whispered, his southern accent ringing clear as a bell. "And listen well as old Clarabelle tells you the darkest secret of Gravity Falls. I suggest those of you with feint hearts cover your ears."

The group was collectively pulled in closer by the softness of his voice. They were gathered tightly together now. Each person whispering of either conspiracies, skepticisms or wonder at what they were about to hear. No one saw the large smile on his face when he spoke again. "Now try not to scream, old Clarabelle's in a ... delicate situation."

There was a click and a single spotlight shined on the stage. The sudden light source assaulted everyone's retinas for a moment, when their eyes readjusted to the light the group let out a series of gasps. The white haired boy stood atop a stage that was made to look like a creepy living room, with ancient looking furniture and spiderwebs hanging off of everything. There was a single rocking chair in the centre of the stage, and sitting on it was an old woman who's appearance caused some of the audience to tremble. She was tightly bound in an old fashioned straight jacket, that would have been white if it weren't for the questionable dark crimson stains that streaked it. Her hair was long, stringy and a mess upon her head. But the real terrifying thing was her sunken in, erratically shifting violet eyes.

When she looked upon the people before her, a crooked and wild grin found its way to her lips. She tilted her head to the side to show off the sharpness of her teeth, causing people to notice that she had long fangs in place of her canines.

"Well, hello there, dears," she crooned to the crowd in a sickly sweet tone. "It's so nice to see such fine people visiting our little town. This sleepy little town, with wholesome citizens and lovely sights. At least, that was what the uninformed would assume. But I know differently. There are shadows in the forests, shifting when you get close enough. Strange phenomenons that cloud this town's history. Why even in this ver-"

She paused, crazed violet eyes snapping upwards towards the ceiling. Her breath hitched as she stared ahead, her gaze not really fixed on anything. Everyone waited in anticipation for her to finish her statement, or perhaps for her to snap into a violent rage.

She slowly craned her head towards the audience, a smile stretching at her lips but not affecting her dead eyes. "Sorry dearies, it seems you've come to visit old Clarabelle at a terrible time. You see-"

The old woman was cut off by a sudden rumble beneath the stage. She glared down at the floorboards as if they had offended her.

"You see, tonight is the new moon and-" the woman tried again, though her character was slipping. Her voice was a lot louder this time but her words were drowned out when the mechanical rumble bellow to stage turned into a full fledged roar.

A trapdoor in front of the old woman's rocking chair opened up with a slam. Puffs of smoke poured out from the opening, accompanied by the sound of distorted dog growls. The now confused and horrified audience watched as something large and fury emerged from the stage.

An animatronic werewolf jumped up from bellow the stage, only its hide was on fire. It's hinged jaw jerked rapidly and the rubber skin and synthetic fur melted away as it was licked by the flames. The thing's voice box was damaged by the heat, and the long howl it was programmed to make became distorted. The screech it made sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

The tourists screamed, some of them feeling the heat from the very real and dangerous flames. This little scene had clearly gotten out of control, and no one wanted to stick around to see the damage that would come of this malfunction. The group fled the room in fear, rushing passed the gift shop and back to their cars. As a collection of cars sped away on the dirt road, no one in the line had an inkling to ever go back to the Mystery Shack.

The boy, who had been guiding the customers, had fled the scene to fetch a nearby fire extinguisher. Luckily, due to prior experience with combustible machinery, he was able to douse the flames in a few moments.

As the large clouds of smoke rose up from the opening, the animatronic flopped over lifelessly and it's rubber skin sizzled. The old woman fluidly slipped from the confines of her straight jacket and tossed it to the side. Upon finding the room barren of tourists, she cursed loudly. The boy's hands automatically shot up to cover his ears as the woman cursed over and over.

"I thought you said it wasn't going to catch on fire this time, Melody," Carla McCorkle snapped, yanking the itchy wig from her head and throwing it to the ground in disgust. She spent all month preparing for this werewolf bit and now all these rehearsals went to waste. Not only that, but all the paying customers had booked it out of there without so much as a tip.

"I'm sorry," a feminine voice called out from under the stage. From the trap door, a young woman emerged. Her face and clothes were coated in soot and her hair was severely disheveled. "I really thought I fixed all the problems but when I went to turn it on, there was this pop and then a flame sparked and everything just got worse from there. I'm really sorry Miss McCorkle, I think it had something to do with the-"

"I don't care how it happened, just get it fixed," she said, brushing past the bewildered and frantic young woman. She yelled at the top of her lungs. "Robbie! Robbie, get over here!"

When there was no response, Carla stormed out of the room and into the gift shop, only to find her cashier missing.

Pacifica sat before the cash register, counting the money, or rather the lack of it. When her grandmother entered the room with the fury in her violet eyes, she straightened her posture to put up a facade of alertness.

“What happened?” the blonde asked, a sculpted brow arched in confusion. “I saw everyone run out of there and I thought someone died or something.”

“Those people are wimps,” her grandmother growled, glaring out the window where she could just make out the tail end of the retreating automobiles on the dirt road. She turned to her granddaughter with a frown. “Where the heck is Robbie?”

“He went AWOL after all those people ran out without even buying anything,” Pacifica answered with a shrug, though she turned her head to gaze wistfully out the window, the way she had seen the cashier go. “He said he would be hanging out with some friends.”

“Lousy teenagers,” Carla grumbled, crossing her arms and glaring out the window. “This is coming out of his pay check.”

The young boy came running in, out of breath and grinning like they hadn’t lost out on a whole lot of money.

“Good news,” he chirped, and Carla looked towards him with a skeptical gaze. “Melody got the fire out. Bad news is she’s going to need a week to fix the werewolf bot.”

Carla groaned dramatically, raking her fingers through her thick grey curls. While she mumbled a string of curses to herself, her grandchildren shared a look of acknowledgment and subtly nodded to one another.

“Weeeellll,” Pacifica said, dragging out the word as she stepped out from behind the counter. “Since today was a bit of a bust and Melody is working on fixing the werewolf, Gideon and I were gonna go out for a walk in the woods.”

Upon hearing this, Carla to her granddaughter with a suspicious glare. She inclined her head in interest, searching for any hidden intent in Pacifica’s facial features or posture.

xxx

Gravity Falls wasn't the kind of place you would expect people to travel to on purpose. It was a small town, built on the lumber industry, with not much in terms of attractions. There was a grand total of four restaurants, two motels, and one mall. The town held some weird traditions and fostered a bunch of creepy local legends, but other than that it was basically a pit stop for weary travellers taking a road trip in the pacific north west.

xxx

The tree was cool to the touch, and had the texture of steel. The realistic paint job mimicked the colour and shadows of bark and had fooled Pacifica and Gideon into believing it was real.

Out of curiosity, she carefully ran her hand along the tree side. She paused when her fingertips caught on a small grove in the metal, indicating that there was some kind of opening.

Xxxxx

These were my chapter plans for play it in reverse - some are more thought out than others lol

Part Time Tourist, Full Time Trapped: Gideon and Pacifica go out to get pictures of something spooky, they come across gnomes. The gnomes find the two truss passing on their lawn and try to force one or the other into marriage. When they escape, the cousins stumble upon the third journal. They use it to escape the gnomes by summoning the manatoar to scare them off.

Once in a Waxing Moon: Pacifica finds a poster for the Mystery Museum's new wax exhibit. Carla flips her lid and immediately calls up Fiddleford Mcgucket to assemble a new attraction to beat out Stan. Pacifica and Gideon help Melody and Fids with the creation of the Gobblewonker. They do the painting. Pacifica meets McGucket for the first time and learns how Melody started working for Carla and how she became a mechanic. Like a try hard, Carla shows of fat the wax exhibit unveiling and shows up Stan with her gobblewonker. After an enormous explosion takes out everything, Paz and Gideon decide to find out who caused the destruction. With a tip from Wendy, they find out that Stan was around when the thing blew up. But that's weird because Carla and Stan were fighting at the time. Something Is sketchy so they go snooping around the mystery museum late at night for clues. They find out that it was actually Stan's wax figure that blew up the robot and they nearly get killed by some wax figures. Pacifica meets dipper Stan and Carla get into a fight and Paz gets some free tickets to the tent of telepathy.

There's Something About Mabel: Paz and Gideon and Melody go to the tent of telepathy. Mabel is interested in Gideon and approaches him with the intent of owning him. He's excited to be hanging out with her but he gets severely scared of her and has to put up some boundaries. This makes Mabel even more determined to have him and she starts pressuring him to date her and smothers him and nearly threatens him. Paz, seeing the effect Mabel has on Gideon, confronts her and tells her to lay off a bit. Mabel doesn't take this well and traps her at a factory and promptly tries to kill her. Gideon receives the ransom note, and tries to appeal to her better nature. He lets her down easy but Mabel goes full out horror show on him. Paz tries to rescue him but Dipper shows up and stops her. Dipper convinces Mabel not to kill Paz or hurt Gideon and she begrugenly follows him, not without threatening Paz on the way out.

Season of the Hand Witch: Gideon and Paz start panicking about the mystically powered twins and consult the journal for answers. They can't find anything on the mystic amulets but they do find info on a psychic witch who may have the answers to how they can defend themselves. They go to the handwitch who tells them how to make hex bags to stop the pines twins from using their powers on them.

Mabel goes to meet them at the shack and act threatening but finds she can’t use her powers. Pacifica is a bit gloaty about it.

Mabel goes to tell Dipper about how they got had. Dipper is surprised that Pacifica found away around her powers, and he’s impressed but not too upset. Its just a couple of kids after all. Sucks for Mabel tho. Mabel is like yeah it is unfortunate. Especially since Pacifica has the other journal. Dipper just screeches "WHAT?!"

The Art of Failing at Seduction: the party at the mystery shack, a birthday party for Stan thrown by Carla because she thinks its funny and she makes a big deal about advertising how old he is. Pacifica and Dipper share a confrontation when she keeps catching him sneaking around while she fails to put the moves on Robbie. He gets his hands on her journal but he is dumbfounded when he sees that it’s journal number 3. Dippy thought she had journal number 1, he had no idea there even was a 3rd journal lol. She hits him with a chair and gets the book away from him. He demands to know why it’s the third journal and where the first is. She has no idea what he’s talking about.

Pioneer Day: Pacifica and Stan are both mortified at the discovery that its Pioneer Day. Carla sets up a pioneer station at the shack to get more customers and to piss of Stan. Pacifica has to do the Pioneer Day speech every year.

Trick or Treat or Die: Pacifica pisses off the summerween trickster and then they have to collect a whole lot of candy.

Splash: Gideon falls in love with a magical manatee.

Worst Date Ever: Dipper somehow convinces Pacifica to investigate a series of disappearances around a convenience store. They end up needing to be saved by

Where Have All The Good Men Gone: Dipper and Robbie fight or not.

Something Wicked This Way Comes: Bill Cipher

Pacifica Northwest Vs The World: Dipper and Mabel get access to the Mystery Shack

Nearly Almost Dead But Not Quite: zombie kareoke

It Must Be a Conspiracy: Pacifica and Dipper believe their relatives are up to something.

Experiment #210: Seuss melody date

Mind Swap:

What is Love?: love potion incident.

Witches Be Crazy: Lollipop, Taffy, bubblegum, candy

Ancient Sins: the haunting at Northwest manner forces Priscilla to hire Dipper and Mable to deal with it. Pacifica is pissed off when he shows up.

Order of the All Seeing Eye: the crew discovers a cult dedicated to cipher lead by blind Ivan and they all work to erase the memories of gravity falls so no one will stand in the way of cipher when he returns. They find out about how the portal will open soon, mcgucket finds out that the kids have his memory gun now.

My Soul to Take: Dipper gets his ass possessed. Bills like, well you’ve figured out too much already so we’re gonna destroy those journals of yours and kill all those that know about the impending portal.

No One You Can Trust: the crew tries to find out who could be trying to open the portal and it leads them to mcgucket stan and Carla.

The Thickness of Blood: the portal opens and Ford emerges. Mcgucket manages to contain the rift that had been created via the portal.

Last Ditch Effort: in an attempt to get the power away from the northwest’s, Stan runs for mayor.

Beginning of the End: Mable trades the rift for bill to no longer be able to possess her and her brother while allowing them to keep their amulets and magical abilities.

Weirdmagedon: The Final Temptation: Bill offers Dipper everything he could want so they can make another deal and so he will have dipper under his thrall.

Weirdmagedon: Into the Rift:

Weirdmagedon: The Way Is Shut: the blood is spilled in the circle

[alldoll3dup]

Hello! I just wanted to ask if you could write Velvet x overworked reader? I don't really have much else so I guess just do anything lmao😭 but thank you! Take your time!

▐ Hello anon of course yes I'll do my best (I really don't know how to write this sorry if its bad lol)

໑୧﹒★﹒Velvet x overworked!Reader - Headcanon's/one-shot ᰍ﹒∿

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - You were working a lot these days and you were completely exhausted so Velvet your girlfriend asks you for a day off so you can rest

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 - Trolls

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - FEM!Reader, fluff, crying

- Velvet would notice as soon as she saw you with dark circles under your eyes and sleeping anywhere without talking to her first

- Like it was a ritual that when you got home from work you would tell her everything

- So soon she became worried about you and of course angry with your recklessness for working so much (unnecessarily)

"Y/N sweetie? Are you okay? You look so tired I don't know why you still working I can give you everything you need" - you look at Velvet tired

"It's okay, love, I'm serious, I love my work " - you said, wrapping your arms around Velvet's waist, resting your head on her thighs, Velvet lets out a frustrated sigh as she strokes you hair

- So she had an idea to demand a day off for you, which she did without telling you and the next day she just said "You don't need to work today, rest, I got you a day off"

- You don't even argue with her, after all she was just taking care of you

- You would spend the whole day cuddling, talking, watching movies and of course you would have the best night's sleep of your life

- Velvet literally bought the best mattress she found just so you could sleep better

- She also bought your favorite foods and little things for you to pass the time

- Velvet would be much more affectionate because she knew you were tired, she would give you kisses, tell you how much she loved you (even though she didn't know how to do it right)

- She said how adorable when she sees you try so hard in something you like and that she admires that about you

- And if you needed anything you could ask her

- Literally your safe haven at that moment when you felt so overwelmed and even insufficient

- Until one moment while you were hugging her you started crying and she held your face worriedly looking straight into your eyes

"My dear, what happened why are you crying?"

"I'm sorry for working so much Vel... I still can't even give you a decent gift and now I have these dark circles under my eyes and I don't even know why you date me..." - Velvet would hug you so tight in that moment as if she were going to lose you forever

"Sweetie, don't ever say that again, okay? I love you just the way you are and I love every little gift from you, they are all special" - you literally cling to Velvet until you sleep together right there

- She would whisper little things in your ear as you calmed down to sleep

"You are the best girlfriend anyone could have, I'm lucky to be your girlfriend"

- When you two sleep she will be the big spoon and you will be the little (the cutest thing)

"Sweet dreams my love"

▐ Hello again, I hope you enjoy reading, I had to use my remaining creativity to write it

▐ Sorry if there are any grammatical errors love you guys ♡

★ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ★

[millersdjarin]

in these trying times

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: G (all audiences, but my blog is always 18+)

Word Count: 2.7k

Tags/Warnings: diabetes, hypoglycaemia, almost-fainting, protective!din, secrets, food

Masterlist & Request Info

Based on this request! ❤️

It’s reckless, and you know it. Din would be furious if he knew what you were keeping from him; you’d be furious with him if he kept something so important about his health from you. Something that, as his partner, you should definitely know.

But it’s for the best. It was hard enough for Din to open himself up to the possibility of having a partner, both romantically and in the field, and he doesn’t need a reason to worry about you, not after he’s finally gotten over his anxieties. You’ve had this for years, and it’s under control; it has been for a long time. There’s no need to worry him unnecessarily. It doesn’t get in the way or change how you work, how well you fight. 

Life has been busy. There are always people after Din; people who haven’t got the memo yet that the kid is no longer wanted by the Empire. And, on top of that, you’re working for the New Republic, and there are always jobs that need done. 

Meals get skipped. Snacks are the last thing on Din’s mind. Not on yours; you sneak ration bars to missions and munch them down whenever you get chance. 

Din catches you eating one when you’re rushing down an alleyway back towards the ship, Imperials on your heels. 

He looks at you and almost stops in his tracks, confusion evident in his body language even though you can’t see his face. “Where did you get that?” He asks. “Why are you eating it now?” 

You shove the last mouthful in your mouth and grimace at the feeling of your partially-full stomach jostling around as you run. It’s better than the feeling of a low blood sugar, but still, not exactly pleasant. A needs must, you suppose. “I’m hungry,” you say to him, like that should be enough of an excuse. 

It’s not. “We don’t have time to have a picnic right now,” Din protests gruffly. The two of you reach the end of the alleyway, and as you stop at the opening to the street, Din turns back, shoots the two Imps on your tail in two quick blasts, sending them to the floor. “We can eat later.” 

You’re five klicks from the ship. You won’t make it ’til later. He doesn’t need to know that. 

Shoving the wrapper into your pants pocket, you shoot him a confident grin. “It’s not like these Imps are making it difficult,” you say with a shrug of a shoulder, “they’re making it a picnic for us.” 

More footsteps approach from behind you. Three stormtroopers are rushing forwards, lifting their blasters. 

So, not so much of a picnic. 

But it’s fine. Din drops it; maybe because he’s too busy fighting off the enemies dropping down from the surrounding roofs to question why you felt the need for a little snack mid-fight. 

-

It happens again when you’re trying to lay low in a market town as you hunt for your target. Din is on a nearby roof, watching you through his rifle scope. You’re trying to sift through the crowd unnoticed, a piece of beige fabric covering your head, helping you blend in with the residents, when you notice your hands start to shake. 

It’s been a few hours since you last ate. There wasn’t time on the way here to stop and grab something. 

You don’t have to test your blood to know you’re getting low; you need some sugar right kriffing now or this is going to go South pretty fast. 

There are some credits in your pocket and a fruit stand across the street. Casually, you head over, reaching for the credits and handing them over as you approach the vendor. 

“What are you doing?” Din’s voice in your ear asks, doubly modulated through the comms. 

You don’t answer him; you can’t without blowing your cover. Instead you just select some produce—a handful of berries that you know are good for sudden lows, and a bottle of pure juice—and offer the vendor a friendly smile. You open the bottle straight away, take several gulps before starting on the berries, holding them out in the palm of your hand.

“Is this part of your cover?” Din asks. He knows you can’t answer him. “You’re supposed to be blending in.” 

Stop asking me fucking questions and maybe I will, you think to yourself as you drink up half the bottle of juice in ten seconds. 

“The target’s here for limited time,” Din reminds you, sounding impatient and confused as to your sudden interest in snacking in the midst of a hunt. “We have to move.” 

It’s fine, you want to tell him. I’m still headed in the right direction. 

You get the target just fine despite your close brush with a low. Din doesn’t ask you about it later. 

So, it’s never really got in the way.

Except, now it is.

Dank fucking farrik, now it is. 

Despite the fact that you’ve gotten pretty good at sneaking in extra shots or ration bars in the midst of battles, today, you haven’t had chance to stop for even a second. 

And now your vision is blurring, your head is spinning, and your legs are starting to give out beneath you. 

Right when a bunch of syndicate soldiers are closing in on both of you in the middle of a forest clearing. Right when Din needs you to be on your shit, to be there for him; right when he puts the most trust in you. 

The last thing you remember thinking before falling to your knees is that you’ve let him down. 

He calls your name from across the clearing, concern and confusion evident in his voice. There’s a mercenary headed straight for you; you can only just see through the black, blurry tunnel around your vision, can barely focus on anything other than the racing of your heart and the cold sweat beading on your forehead. Din is fighting off his own group of enemies and you can’t lift your arms, can’t reach for your blaster. You can barely hear anything, but you vaguely register the shot of a blaster headed your way, the bright shine of a Beskar-covered man diving in front of you, a blaster bolt hitting the metal with a loud clang. 

Din’s saying your name once all the bodies have dropped. There’s no more threat from enemies, but he sounds more worried than ever, breathing fast through his modulator as he pulls you into his lap. He’s asking what’s wrong, if you can hear him, if you’re hurt. 

You try to pull yourself up, but the weakness is too much. 

“Sugar,” you say breathily, feeling like your throat is shaking with your hands. “I need—food. It’s—blood sugar.” 

“What?” Din questions, sounding more confused. He presses something on his vambrace, then holds it up to scan your body. Something shines red on your vitals. “I don’t—we don’t have any rations. The ship is a few klicks away, can you walk—?” 

You shake your head. “I—I need it faster, if we walk back…”

Din’s concern is only growing as he nods with understanding. He puts his arm under your leg, the other around your back, and lifts you up. “Can you hold on?” 

“I’m—” Lifting your arms around his neck, you manage to grasp your hands together over his back, just barely hanging on with trembling fingers. “So weak, Din…” 

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. I’m gonna fly us back, just hold on as much as you can.” 

You’re too tired and breathless to respond. All you can do is hold on and close your weak eyes as Din’s jetpack activates and the two of you are lifting off the ground and into the sky. 

He gets you back to the ship in a minute. The weakness is going to your very core, down to your bones, and it’s been a long fucking time since you’ve had a low this bad. But, then again, it’s been a long time since you’ve gone without food for this long, too.

“Fast sugar,” Din says as he hands you a bar of chocolate and pours a packet of juice into a glass. You reach out for them, but your hands are shaking so much that it’s hard to hold the glass without the juice just spilling everywhere. “Here,” Din offers, lifting the glass up to your mouth and helping you take a sip. Once you’ve had a little, he puts it down and gets to work breaking the chocolate into little bite-sized pieces. 

“Under my bunk, I’ve got a blood sugar monitor,” you tell him after your fifth piece. “In my medpack.” The symptoms aren’t fading yet, but it’s not usually long until you start to feel the sugar kick in. 

Din hesitates, probably confused as to why you have that, but then he nods and heads off into your bunk, leaving you with the chocolate and juice. 

You manage to finish the rest of it alone. The shaking is subsiding slowly but surely, the sensation of chocolate in your mouth distracting you for a little while. 

He��s back in a few minutes carrying your medpack. It’s got your meds and your monitor; you fish them both out and prick your finger immediately. Sure enough, it’s dangerously low. There’s a timer on the side of it, so you set it for ten minutes, making sure you don’t forget to test it again. 

Din just stands there, watching. You tip your head back against the sofa but you can feel his eyes on you, even though his visor; can picture it in your mind, him just standing there with his hands hanging at his sides, studying you as if just staring will help him to understand what’s happening. 

He’s entirely silent for ten minutes. He checks your vitals with his vambrace a few more times, but doesn’t say a word. 

The timer goes off. When you test your blood again, it’s back to safe levels, and you breathe a sigh of relief. As always after a low, you feel fucking exhausted and washed-out, and definitely need a proper meal as soon as possible. But you don’t feel like you’re about to pass out any second anymore, so there’s that. 

The next sigh that you let out is one of nerves. You breathe in deep, bracing yourself to look back at Din and face the inevitable questions. 

When your eyes meet his visor, your stomach twists a little in guilt. “I can explain,” you say, not needing to see his face to know that he’s probably raising an expectant eyebrow at you. 

“How do you feel?” He asks instead of What the fuck?

You swallow heavily. “Better,” you say. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?”

“For…making you finish the mission alone. For being a useless partner.” 

“That’s what you’re sorry about?” 

You stare at him, wide-eyed, swallowing yet again in the hopes it will dampen some of the guilt rising up your throat. (It doesn’t). You put the mission in severe jeopardy; you put the both of you in danger. Din trusted you to be his partner, to get the mission done effectively, to not almost die in the middle of it. And you let him down. “Well…yeah,” you answer, like it should be obvious. “I let you down. I was a bad partner.” 

“Yes, you were.” 

“I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful next time, I’ll be more helpful—”

“You weren’t a bad partner because you almost passed out,” Din interrupts you. He doesn’t sound angry, which you make note of and let calm your nerves. “You were a bad partner because you didn’t tell me about…this,” he gestures to your med kit, your machines and your medicines. 

Oh. Right. 

Of course he’s upset you kept this from him. 

He sighs. Stepping closer, he sits beside you on the couch, leaving just inches between you. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice is softer than you’d expected; not a trace of accusation or anger. Just…concern. Disappointment.

You can’t look at him. “I didn’t want you to worry. Or…to think that I couldn’t do my job.” 

“I am always going to worry about you, Riduur,” he says. 

“Exactly. I didn’t want to give you another reason to worry.” 

“Is this why you’ve been stopping mid-mission to eat so often?” 

“Yeah,” you laugh nervously. “I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner.” 

“I just thought…” he fades off, then shrugs. “I don’t know what I thought. Maybe I should have asked.” He sounds thoughtful. You shake your head in response. Then, he turns to look at you, and asks, “How long have you…been sick?” 

“I got diagnosed with diabetes when I was nineteen. I’ve had it a long time now. And I’m usually much better at controlling it than this, but I…we’ve been so busy.” 

Din sighs softly and hangs his head. His hands clench into fists on his lap. “I’m sorry.” 

Your eyes snap up to look at him. “Why are you sorry?” 

“I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have let you neglect your health.” 

“You had no idea,” you assure him, putting a hand on the armour over his thigh. “I’m the one who kept this from you. How were you supposed to know?” 

“With or without diabetes, I should be taking better care of you.” 

“No, that’s not the lesson we’re taking away from this.” 

He looks at you again. The black T of his visor is emotionless, but you can imagine the quirk of his eyebrow. “It’s not?” 

“No,” you almost laugh, because how is he suddenly making this his fault? 

“Then what is?”

“That I should’ve told you. That I put us in danger by not letting you know something that could’ve affected the mission. Something that could’ve…hurt us.” 

He stares at you. Unmoving, unreadable. 

“Did you make me say the lesson out loud on purpose by pretending you feel guilty?” You ask him.

“No,” he replies, deadpan, “I’d never.” 

“You would.” 

“I didn’t,” he says, this time with a slight smile in his voice. He reaches out, takes your hand. “I meant it when I said I should have noticed.” 

“I was actively hiding it,” you say. “I don’t blame you. It’s my fault.” 

“You should have told me,” he agrees, albeit reluctantly. “But now that I know, we can make sure this never happens again.” 

“I’ll just be more careful, and always bring a snack, even if I think we’re not going to be out for long.” 

He squeezes your hand, still looking at you through the visor. “Will you tell me about it?” He asks earnestly. 

“What do you want to know?” 

“What you need, what to look out for,” he answers. “How you manage it. I want to make sure you’re safe. That at least one of us can be taking proper care of you.” 

Your heart swells with a sudden bloom of warmth. This isn’t how you expected this to go down: you thought he’d be angry with you for not telling him, and even more angry for almost ruining the mission. 

But, in hindsight, you should’ve known better. Better than to keep this from him, and better than to expect that kind of reaction. 

This is Din. All he’s ever wanted is for you to be safe. Any secret that you’ve told him has always been met with kindness, understanding. Even when you’ve kept it from him for a while. 

“What?” Din asks into the silence that you hadn’t even realised you’d created. You’re just staring at him, warmth in your chest and adoration in your eyes. 

You shake your head. “Nothing,” you say, finding your voice a little choked with tears in your throat, “just. I love you.” 

He softens. Leans in, presses the beskar over his forehead to yours. “I love you too, Cyar’ika.” 

You close your eyes. “I’m sorry I kept it from you.” 

“I know. It’s alright. But please tell me how we can make sure it doesn’t happen again.” 

“I will,” you promise, pushing your nose into his helmet for a second before pulling away, giving him a sheepish smile. “But first, I need a proper meal.” 

notes: finally getting to one of yall's requests! i've been so busy but thank you for your patience, and thank you to this anon for this request. as a fellow diabetic, i can relate, and i would want din there for a low if i had to have one, lmao.

hope you enjoyed! reblogs & comments so so appreciated if you can ❤️

din taglist: @brokenghostgirl1 @astronymity

[xxv2axx]

Preview of my latest Merlin WIP! I'm not quite sure what I'll call it yet, but it should be a 5 + 1 fic! (I've always wanted to do one of these, so I'm really excited abt it!! ^^)

Here's the idea of the fic: Merlin is aware before the start of the show that he's immortal and is therefore a little more reckless during random daily activities than he probably should be. It's from Arthur's perspective as he continually FREAKS OUT over Merlin carelessly endangering himself without a single thought about it. (It's a 5 + 1 fic because it will be five times Arthur catches Merlin, who he doesn't realize is immortal, doing something unbelievably dangerous for apparently no reason (or just being genuinely oblivious about the situation and why what he's doing is giving Arthur heart problems) and the one time Merlin actually gets hurt (+ the consequential magic reveal when Merlin doesn't die from what appears to be a fatal injury.))

Anyways! That's the general idea of the fic! Here's the little preview for anyone who's interested!

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Arthur's new manservant was certainly...entertaining. Yes, that was probably the right word for it. The boy left quite a lasting impression on Arthur the first time he had met him, and he wouldn't be surprised if the mouth on him hadn't gotten him into trouble before.

The only problem was when Merlin wasn't bantering with Arthur, or being a general nuisance, he was incredibly stupid; and most of the time he wasn't even referring to the few occasions when Merlin simply forgot to do one of the chores Arthur had assigned to him. No, Merlin was incredibly stupid in the fact that he was completely oblivious to his surroundings most of the time, putting himself in unnecessarily dangerous situations that could have been prevented during everyday activities, and giving Arthur a partial heart attack every time it happened.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡1. ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+

It had only been a couple of weeks since Uther had hired Merlin on as his manservant when he began to notice his rather...risky tendencies.

Arthur was out in the lower town with a small group of knights, wandering around on patrol the first time it had happened. It was a slow morning; not a lot happening and therefore not a lot to keep Arthur from complete boredom.

By the time it was time for their group to head back to the citadel, the sun was beating down in hot waves from overhead and it was beginning to get more crowded. Arthur felt only a little put out that the second he had to head back was when everything became busy and so much more interesting.

And yet, perhaps all hopes for something interesting to happen were not completely lost.

Just then Arthur spotted a familiar head of black hair and a scrappy neckerchief pass by on the other side of the crowd a small ways ahead of him.

Merlin seemed to be running errands for Gaius as he stopped at a few different stalls to grab different herbs for the court physician's different tinctures and medicines. Arthur also knew that anything Merlin couldn't find in the market of the lower town, he would have to scavenge for himself outside of Camelot.

As Arthur drew nearer to Merlin he watched as he paid for his items before beginning to cross the street... Right as Arthur began to hear the sound of a fast-approaching horse.

He felt his neck twitch uncomfortably as he jerked his head in the direction of the noise and noticed a large horse and carriage barrelling their way down the path; the crowd parting before them so as not to get run over. All except Merlin who stood directly in front of the rapidly approaching horse as he crossed the street while apparently remaining completely oblivious to the fact he was about to be run over.

Arthur felt his heart leap into his throat and before he knew what he was doing he was rushing away from the knights and toward Merlin. He quickly grabbed onto Merlin's arm, the man in question letting out a surprised noise, and pulled him out of the way right before he could get run over.

Arthur stood in silence for a few moments as he registered the sound of the horse clopping away; the noise of its hooves on the stone pathway getting further and further away. He felt it as his sudden rush of adrenaline began to slow, and tried to catch his breath after the sudden panic and mad dash to save Merlin's life.

"Uh..." Merlin sounded uncertain and Arthur looked at the idiot he had just saved from getting run over. "You could probably let go of my arm now."

Arthur looked down at his hand and took notice of the fact that he had yet to remove it from where he had latched onto Merlin to pull him out of the way. He felt his face begin to heat up and was quick to remove it; obviously, he needed to get to somewhere more shady with more haste than he had originally thought if he was so hot all of a sudden.

"Watch where you're going next time idiot."

Merlin simply smiled and nodded his head, seemingly, and quite confusingly to Arthur, unbothered by the whole situation. "Alright."

Arthur wasn't going to return the smile but he would admit silently to himself that he was grateful Merlin had seemed to agree with him for once without the usual bickering. It wasn't exactly something Arthur wanted to deal with again after all.

It was too bad that this wouldn't be the last time Merlin risked his life in his pure obliviousness.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

That's all for now, though I'll probably make slight changes to it as I self beta it some more later. I'll repost with the AO3 Link later when I finish it in case anyone here finds it interesting!

Thanks for sticking around and taking the time to read my writing. I appreciate it and I hope you enjoyed <3

[cariantha]

A Solid Strategy

Book: Open Heart, Book 2 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Warning: None Category: Rewrite; Angsty Fluff Word count: 1.1K Summary: Ethan loses his temper after Sawyer makes an impulsive decision.

“Sawyer!”

Ethan’s deep booming cry reverberated off the walls of the expansive atrium.  

She grabbed Lamar’s wrist just before he jumped off the narrow ledge. The confused man dangled precariously over the atrium as patients and staff watched in horror below.

Just as Sawyer’s feet lifted from the floor, Ethan slammed his body against hers, pinning her against the railing.

A strong arm wrapped around her waist, holding on for dear life, while another reached over the railing to grab Lamar’s flailing free hand. 

“I’m okay,” she promised with her feet once again planted firmly to the ground. “I’ve got this side. Let’s pull him up.” 

Together, they hauled their patient to safety and gently restrained him until additional help arrived. 

The scene was under control not long after. Lamar had been escorted back to his room by a couple of interns and hospital security. 

“Are you hurt?” Ethan asked, scanning Sawyer up and down.

She rubbed her abdomen where she had been crushed between him and the railing. “I’ll probably have some bruises tomorrow, but otherwise, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. 

“Then arrange the test and check in with Mrs. Stevenson to see if she has any questions about the procedure.”

He had already spun on his heel and started walking away before she could even say "Okay."

<><><><><><><><><><>

A while later, Sawyer tracked her boss down to his private office. With the door ajar, she peered inside.

Ethan sat at his desk, seemingly in deep thought as he stared at a picture of his late friend Dolores. The framed photograph that Sawyer gifted him last Christmas.

“There you are,” she greeted. “Anesthesiology is short-staffed today, so we won’t be able to do Lamar’s spinal tap until tomorr-”

Sawyer jumped in surprise when Ethan stood and slammed his hands on the desk, cutting her off.

“Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again. Do I make myself clear, Dr. Brooks?” he admonished.

The adrenaline rush had worn off. His neck turned crimson with fury as the feelings that had been suppressed by his body’s natural fight-or-flight response now bubbled to the surface. 

“W-What? I…,” she stammered, caught off guard by his severe tone and the use of her last name. “I-I’m sorry. I…I didn’t think. I just reacted.” 

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t think at all. A man that size could have easily pulled you over that railing with him. He nearly did!” 

“Ethan, I-”

He motioned for her to stop talking. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. You’re lucky I don’t write you up for demonstrating reckless behavior and poor judgment.”

“He would have died! I had to do something,” she argued, cheeks burning hot with indignation.

“Your job is to save lives with medicine. You were not hired to be a goddamn superhero.”

“He wasn’t in his right mind, Ethan. I wasn’t going to let him hurt himself. And I wasn’t going to let that poor woman watch the man she loves fall to his death.”

Her words only enraged him further. “But you would let me watch you,” he thought to himself. 

Ethan hung his head low and took a couple deep breaths to control his temper before speaking again. 

“It would have been a terrible and unfortunate circumstance if Mr. Stevenson had hurt himself, but it would have been much worse if I…,” he cleared his throat, correcting his course, “...if we had unnecessarily lost two lives.”

Sawyer silently processed his words, having caught his slip. 

The way she looked at him, it felt as though she was daring him to say what he really meant. And it infuriated him. 

Too proud to admit his feelings and determined to keep their relationship professional, he hid behind his condemnation.

“You’re done for the day. Go home. I’ll find someone to take over your cases,” he barked.

Fighting back tears of frustration, Sawyer nodded and walked away.

She was only halfway down the hall when she stopped in her tracks. Looking back toward the now closed office door, she replayed their interaction in her mind. Though his words were cutting, and his temperament harsh, Sawyer suddenly felt bad for him. She had seen this side of Ethan before. This was the lashing out of a man who was afraid of losing someone he cared about.

A moment later, the door to his office opened and closed. 

Ethan stood with his back to the door, staring out the window. 

“I thought I told you to go home,” he growled, seeing her reflection in the glass.

Sawyer approached him cautiously but confidently, refusing to be cowed by his anger.

He turned to face her, prepared for the impending clash. An accusation of insubordination readied on the tip of his tongue.

She stopped within arms reach. With soft eyes she met his scrutinizing ones, and she waited until he discerned there was no fight to be had. Then lunging forward, Sawyer wrapped her arms around his torso.

He remained rigid, arms hanging at his sides.

Resting her chin on his shoulder, she apologized softly in his ear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. If the roles were reversed, I’d feel the same way about you.” 

After a few seconds, she swatted him between the shoulder blades. “Stop being a jerk and hug me back.”

Ethan finally surrendered. He folded his arms around her and rested his head against the side of hers. 

Exhaling a deep, shaky breath, he released his remaining tension. 

“I owe you an apology,” he began, still holding her tight. “Though I stand by the sentiment, I am sorry for losing my temper.”

Sawyer placed a tender kiss on his jacketed shoulder. “Thank you.”

After a long, indulgent embrace, he pulled back and sighed.

“Christ, Rookie. How do you always seem to find trouble? How can I ever let you out of my sight?”

“Uh-oh. You’re on to me,” she winked. 

“I am somewhat serious. Have you forgotten when I found you turning blue behind the nurses’ station? Or your ethics trial?”

“Pft,” she waved him off. 

“Have you already forgotten when you nearly broke your neck at the Stevenson’s yesterday? And now we get to add being dragged over the balcony to that heart-stopping list.”

“Well…,” she shrugged her shoulders, “I did end up in your arms each of those times. So my evil plan must be working.”

With an endearing smile, she squeezed his hand and turned for the door. 

“Where are you going?”

“You ordered me to go home. If I leave now I might still catch the 3:30 train. And don’t worry, I’ll try not to get mugged or pushed onto the tracks,” she teased.

“Don’t even joke about that,” he warned with a shake of his head. “Give me a minute,” he instructed, pocketing his wallet and keys. “I’ll drive you home.” 

“See? It's a solid strategy.”

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[klanceogies]

hi i have klance f1 au brainrot

i can't stop thinking about little story details and backstories like. keith's dad was in f1 before. i feel like he didn't die in an f1 crash. maybe a regular car crash. the irony of this guy who races in incredibly fast speeds to be killed by something so ordinary, in a car, but not an f1 one. and it wasn't even his fault. some drunk driver or something. he didn't die on an f1 car because speed isn't what kills you, it's suddenly stopping that does.

also still talking about keith's background, keith coming from an f1 family background makes so much sense in my mind. him being an orphan would make it basically impossible to sustain himself in such an expensive sport as a kid like that. but since he was already in the scene, and people respected his dad, he had connections and sponsors (not to mention he had always shown that he was a prodigy in the sport so people were willing to bet on him and support him and his career). he met shiro through that environment too.

he also skipped f2 like a lot of really skilled rookies, but he popped into f1 seemingly "out of nowhere" years after a controversy in his f3 days. it goes like this: james, little asshole james coming close second in that season, is a shit person. he is just fucking mean. and keith has been having a shit year. and idk if you're gonna agree with this but hear me out. shiro crashes. like badly. like career-ending crash. he loses his arm and he is in the hospital, and of course he eventually makes a great recovery, but right now no one knows it yet. they just know that at the very least shiro is never going to race again. they don't know how his recovery is gonna go, IF he is going to recover.

keith is alone. since the death of his dad, he is completely alone. so yeah keith starts to lose it a little bit. and this season has been proving harder than expected, james closing the point gap for first place. the media can't stop making up stories about him, shiro was in the hospital, he had a lot issues with his team manageament, which made his season unnecessarily harder. with all of that, keith becomes more reckless. he has nothing to lose--only the championship.

so, a race happens. bad choices are made. of course james provoked him, coming too close, crashing into him races before but not being too penalized for it. saying some very unkind things about keith and his brother, who was still on the hospital. being a little shit overall. so keith closes in on james, a similar situation as hamilton and verstappen in silverstone back in 2021 (as a max girlie this makes me pissed off but oh well). james runs into the wall. thankfully james's injuries weren't very serious, but he got a broken hand which was enough to make him unable to drive until the end of the championship.

now keith was the champion, right? without james on the next races there is no competition anymore. but keith isn't very happy. his impusiveness damaged his car, and at the very least he will get a grid penalty for provoking that accident. well, it is worse. he is black flagged (idk a lot about black flags but like. provoking a crash like that SHOULD prompt a black flag tbh). his engineer tells him he might be suspended for a few races and he LOSES IT. he really needs more mental health help cause he disobeys the black flag and is even more severely penalized. he really is suspended for the next few races, and basically, it screws everything. he finally lost everything he ever had. and maybe, in some twisted way, he felt like he deserved every single part of it. self sabotage and all of that. well, the media goes crazy because everyone thought he would be the next schumacher when he got older. he dips out of the face of the planet. no one thinks this kid will ever race again. "too unstable" some say. "he is just crazy" others mutter. with no one to help him and sponsors dropping him he is now helpless.

that year, lance won the f3 championship. which pretty much sucked. with keith and james out of picture he was the obvious third place. it helps him get promoted to f2. he was doing great already, but he still felt so undeserving. he didn't beat james nor keith. he was just put on that first place podium. he didn't work for it.

after that year lance and keith didn't talk for a while. keith is benched. put out of the spotlights for a while. he does other races, but out of the classic formula path. just because his team hasn't given up on his world champion potential just yet. so they keep him at arm's length, but further from the media than if he was an actual competitor. to the average fan he just disappeared (well, the average fan doesn't even watch f2, much less f3). in the end, his return is even more impactful, memorable.

about 3 years later keith comes back. he first starts as an f1 reserve driver. substituting another driver that year make people actually see him again. how much he has changed. and how much he is still is hungry for speed. hungry for victory.

[gretahayes]

AITA for being mean to a kid?

I (m40s) am having a dilemma. I recently had to bargain with the loss of my second son (early teens) in a terrible incident that I should have prevented. I should have saved him. I bear full responsibility for it and will never forgive myself for not being there for him, even if it was to hold him in his dying moments. He died alone.

After his death, I...became a different man, almost. Drew into myself and became more reckless, violent, in my job. I was trying to kill myself indirectly, and now I see that.

This caused a boy to intervene. The boy (13) who I’ll call...Jack. Jack is a big fan of me and my family's work, has been a fan since a chance encounter with me and my (not yet my ward) older son (20) (I’ll call him John) a decade ago. Due to a tragedy he witnessed and we took part in (not as the perpetrators but John as one of the victims), he was deeply attached to us both, without our knowledge. When he saw me...going off the rails, he felt the need to intervene. Stop me. Help me.

I initially refused, as it would only put him in danger and the role he was asking for in my life was the same one that got my younger son killed and I didn’t want that for him, but he proved he was needed and had what it took, so I agreed. To be ready for the role, he needs extensive training. I don’t want another boy to die due to my negligence, and wanted him extensively prepared to minimize that risk.

I sent him back off to school come Monday (he goes to boarding school and only found the time to intervene because his school had a vacation week, wherein he stayed with me) and when he reminded me I agreed to let him take on the role, I (somewhat sharply, unnecessarily so, something I regret) said he needed training before I let him out on the field, which someone dear to me will oversee before I train him.

Jack has the makings of a good partner, but what do I need a partner for really? My son died and I’m not sure it's the best thing for Jack to be involved, as it seems I only mess everything up.

AITA for being a bit harsh? He only wanted to help.