#their law firm just absolutely stomps him

[sp-growingpains]

My spicy South Park headcanon? My hot, mcnasty take?

Lawyer Kyle is out!

Legally blonde Bebe and her best friend Wendy Testaburger opening their own lawfirm is in!

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing x.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 8, 711

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

so here is the mini monster chap !! i know I said this was going to be a drabble series but I clearly got carried away LOL

anyways, no spoilers for this chap but I can say it's one of my favs that I've written and I think we see oc getting the comfort that she deserves (and needs!)

and also !! this is my first time updating a series on tumblr and it feels *exciting* hehe, I hope you enjoy this chapter c:

let me know your thoughts in my asks!! i'd love to hear what you think so far :3

all the love and I hope you're having a great

day/night/evening/afternoon wherever you are ❤️

“Open up!”

The only person that would opt to yell to get your attention than ring on your doorbell like a normal person would be Yena. And it helped that you immediately recognised her voice from the first syllable she uttered. That and you were currently moping in your living room with lactose-free ice cream, courtesy of Jimin that dropped it off a day ago when he heard that you were ‘sick’. Even if you hadn’t seen him face-to-face, you remember him softly hoping you’d get better.

You don’t know why she’s at your door, but you’re already on your feet to get her when you hear her begin to mutter curses directed at you behind the thin wood of your entrance.

“I can hear you!” You call.

“Well bitch then open the damn door!” She snaps.

You roll your eyes, and so far with the number of times you’ve hung out with her, it’s safe to say that the two of you were comfortable. You never knew how fun having a girl best friend was until you met Yena, and sure it’s only been a little under two weeks since you’ve gotten to know her through various messages and FaceTimes, but you feel like she’s your friend soulmate.

And when you expressed that to her over a FaceTime call a few nights back, you remember her gagging all while you flush and attempt to take it back. You know her candidly calling you bitch rather than your name was her saying she felt the same.

You pull the door open as she stands there with her eyes narrowed into slits, eyeing you up and down before she scrunches her nose.

“There’s a thing called a shower that you should look into. You look like a rundown version of long-haired Noah Beck.” She grimaces when she eyes you up and down.

You scowl. “You did not just compare me to him.”

She clicks her tongue before she shoves you aside by shoving a plastic bag of the takeout food into your arms and steps into your apartment.

Yena ignores the glare you shoot at the back of her neck when she looks around your living room, scrunching her nose like she was here to inspect your room than pay you a visit.

“Did someone die in here or was that just your will to live?”

You scoff. “Wow. Drag me.”

She waves you off before plopping onto your couch while you sigh, immediately heading to the kitchen to prep the food she brought over.

“For a moment I thought you were dead.” She confesses casually.

When you return with bowls and plates, with the cutlery to match—you give her a dry look before you’re taking your seat on the floor; attempting to hide your half-eaten tub of ice cream, which Yena immediately spots.

“So your first instinct was to yell at my door in hopes that I wasn’t actually dead?” You ask dryly.

She picks up your ice cream and grimaces at it, silently judging you for the flavour before she gives you a shrug.

“Yeah. I was hoping that your spirit would confer.”

You snort. “And the food?”

“A peace offering.” She tells you like it’s obvious.

You sigh, you loved Yena—you really did. She was all over the place and random, but it was a refreshing difference that you needed in your life from the usual law and order you often opted for.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your concern,” You tell her, pulling out a container to see your favourite lemon chicken as you eye her suspiciously. “But what brings you here? I told you I was sick.”

Yena scoffs. “And sick you are, bitch. What kind of sick person devours ice cream? Sure, you look the part but your diet says otherwise. Don’t think I didn’t see the empty packet of snickers in the trash.”

You scowl.

“I recovered yesterday.” You lie, taking a bite out of the chicken.

Yena rolls her eyes and you know she doesn’t believe you. She leans into your couch while she watches you eat, “Namjoon texted me that you may need some company.” At that, you choke.

Her eyes widen as you hit at your chest to get the food to go down, eyes still wide at her revelation.

“Why would he do that?” You cry.

“Girl, I know you’re not trying to deflect—you’re literally about to choke and die.”

You glare at her. “I’m fine.” You cough for good measure, then you’re levelling another serious gaze at her.

“I’m fine.” You reiterate with an emphasis on your state even though you were anything but. “I don’t know why the hell he thinks I need company.” You mutter under your breath.

At this, Yena’s face softens as she leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees while you avoid her gaze; idly poking at your food.

“I don’t know either, and you don’t need to tell me anything.” She says softly. “That’s all I’m here for. To be your company, whether you need it or not.”

You don’t know how much Namjoon told her over a text message, but you don’t think it’s much. Purely because he didn’t seem like a snitch and he was too respectful to ever let other people into the business that wasn’t his own. Even at the thought, you want to groan because you essentially lured him into thinking it was okay for him to kiss you while you were … you don’t even know what the fuck was happening anymore.

“I—” You say weakly, and all Yena does is offer you a comforting smile.

For some reason, the fact that she’s here right in front of you after you spent the day crying and feeling like your heart has been repeatedly stomped over with the addition of your rumination—it feels nice to have someone with you, even if it’s just their presence.

But the way she doesn’t look at you and expects something out of your conversation makes you feel even more overwhelmed, and that’s probably why the dam breaks.

Yena’s eyes widen as she immediately darts out to wrap her arms around you when you end up in violent sobs. You don’t know why you’re crying but you are, and you’re tired of hiding things, your feelings and your intent just to pretend like things were okay.

“It’s okay.” She strokes your hair and it feels warm, like a mother comforting a crying baby and you realise that this is what friends should feel like.

“N-no it’s n-not!” You cry into her shirt and it’s messy, but she doesn’t seem like she minds. Especially when she supports your pliable frame.

“You wanna talk about it?” She asks softly, giving you a kind smile.

You sniffle, staring forward as you feel your eyes swell with the escalation of your tears.

“I don’t know.” You whisper.

She hums, “It’s okay not to know. You don’t need to know everything.”

“I’m just so tired, Yena.” You tell her in a hushed breath.

“Life is difficult.” She admits. “It’s natural to be tired.”

You’re thankful to hear that she doesn’t comfort you with blind optimism. She’s real and she acknowledges how shitty things may be, and frankly, you didn’t need another wannabe altruist telling you that things will get better. You knew that, everyone did. But when you’re at rock bottom and all you see is darkness, you’re not looking for better. You’re looking for a reason to continue.

“Can I say something?” She asks. The way she looks at you is soft and open, and non-judgemental. You feel safe.

You nod your head, teary eyes staring up at her.

“You’re not responsible for anyone’s feelings except your own.” She looks at you so seriously that you nearly feel your breath escape. “There are things that you can and cannot control—and the latter usually falls under the people around you.”

You suck in a breath, and you wonder how she’s so spot on without ever touching on the true context.

“Namjoon texted me but I didn’t come here because he asked me to. It’s because you deserve to have someone be around you when you’re clearly not okay.”

“I’m—”

“You’re not.” She blinks, and you almost pout at her firm tone. “And that’s okay. I don’t need to know what happened to justify how you feel. You could’ve stubbed your toe and feel like absolute shit and I have absolutely no right to judge you on how or when you feel emotions.”

You wonder where she’s been your entire life and why she was only in your life now.

“But the thing is,” She sighs. “You don’t always have to choose between something or the other. Sometimes you need to choose yourself.”

You stare up at her in awe because Yena was cool in general, her laidback and unbending personality was mainly what drew you to her because you’d argue you were the opposite. Even if Jungkook’s words stung, you could take it at face value and accept that it was true.

You were uptight and you were a bit of a prude, and for the longest time, you always resented that aspect of you. But you realised with Yena, she had traits that were resented in a woman as well. And you realise that you’d never be perceived the way you want unless you perceive yourself in a positive light first.

So when she speaks to you so sternly, yet with a tone of care as she picks apart her words so carefully—you realise what you have to do.

“I think I like Jungkook.”

Yena pauses for a brief second, but you don’t see any judgement in her face. Just confusion, a warranted emotion you don’t blame her for having.

“I figured as much.”

Your eyes widened, “How—?”

It’s almost like a repeat of the first night at the football game when you befriended each other, but she only shoots you a gentle smile.

“Call it a woman’s intuition.”

You blink, fiddling with your fingers before you stare up at her, continuing your drawls.

“And we kissed.”

At this, Yena cocks an eyebrow up, “Was this recent?”

You fiddle with your thumbs before you sigh and push yourself up.

“Thing is …” You mumble, “I’m not like that.”

You don’t answer her question because you can’t think of a proper enough response to tell her that yeah—you did kiss him, amongst other things that you foolishly allowed yourself to indulge in. You knew Yena wasn’t judgemental but you also knew that you couldn’t retrieve your words the moment they left your mouth. It was your own judgement that stopped you from saying the things you really wanted and it sucked, royally. Because you could tell that Yena wasn’t out here to crucify you for being … liberated. She just wanted to be there for you.

Yena scrunches her eyebrows in confusion as she allows your words to settle, pondering a response.

She settles for a huff, “Care to elaborate?”

“I don’t … do things like that.” You say softly. “I’m shy and quiet. I’m not active in the social sphere and I only have three friends that I can reach out to if I wanna hang out. But even then, I don’t … I don’t like partying, or drinking, or loud spaces. I’m awkward and horrible at social interaction let alone being able to navigate my romantic feelings. And … I felt so bad about it.”

Yena’s eyes soften, but you can’t look at her just yet. Not when this is the first time you’ve ever laid yourself vulnerable, emotionally that is, to someone that wasn’t just the confines of your thoughts.

“I always wondered what it’d like to be confident, to be liked on campus and not just be known as the smart girl.” You whisper. “My entire personality was built around my achievements and I didn’t know what else to do. What if … what if I peak here and fail after?” Your eyes are wide in despair, and you feel your lips quiver when you speak.

“You’ll never know.” Yena reminds you gently. “You won’t know who likes you or what people say about you—but you’re going to be hearing your own thoughts 24/7 and that’s what kicks you down or drives you further.”

You sigh, nodding your head.

“It’s just … Jungkook and I were close. We grew up together even if he’s younger than me. But we just got along well and he … he saw me. He used to comfort me whenever I’d tell him how pressuring it got and—I feel so stupid because he probably says that to everyone and I fell for it.” You chuckle with no emotion, staring at the stray thread poking outside of your couch pillow.

“Have you spoken to him about your feelings?” She asks softly.

Immediately, you scoff and the sour emotion peaks through again.

“He’s made it clear what he wants to hear from me.” You mutter.

Yena purses her lips before resting her hands gently on your shoulder.

“You’re not answering my question, ______.” She chides gently.

You nibble on your bottom lip and shake your head. That earns a sigh from her as she wraps her arms around you once again, resting her chin on your shoulder as you allow yourself to feel the comfort of her warmth.

“He kissed me first and we did things together.” Your lips quiver when you recall the memories, “A-And he’s with Jennie. I just …” You flutter your eyes shut, “I don’t want to say that I’m the other girl but I feel a lot like a second option and it sucks.”

Yena doesn’t ask, and she doesn’t need to. She doesn’t need to justify why you felt the way you did, so she holds you tighter.

“Babe.” She gently turns you to look at her with both hands resting on your shoulders. “Did you talk to him? Properly? Do you really know if he’s with her?”

“I think them kissing proves enough to me.” You snap, and you don’t know why you’re being so hostile, especially to Yena.

She purses her lips, “You kissed him and you aren’t together.”

You wince and she shoots you an apologetic look. She sighs before reaching out to squeeze your hand, all while you stare at the ground to level out your emotions.

“I’m not saying that you can’t feel the way you do. But I’m offering objectivity here. Men are … they’re blunt creatures and that’s the biggest difference between men and women.” You furrow your eyebrows as she takes a deep breath before she continues. “And the idea that we’re equal? No, we’re not. I’m not talking about our systemic positions in society but on an emotional level. Men take things surface value and work with it, they don’t stop to think about the layers of feelings that go into interpersonal relationships with friends, family or lovers. Women? We go big or we go home. All we see is the big picture and sometimes the little details get lost in translation. This isn’t me justifying Jungkook playing home with you or Jennie at the same time, but offering you a perspective that may be hard for you to see because you aren’t him.”

It was true, and you hated yourself for being aware but not putting action based on your own thoughts. Yena only reaffirmed the idea that you overthought every single interaction and maybe that was why you were the one that was hurting.

That, or you and Jungkook had horrible communication problems that neither of you was ready to face just yet. But how could you? When the two of you were on two different wavelengths and you were trying to be just enough for him while he was jumping off pedestals to see you.

It didn’t feel nice, and it sucked because he was the same person that comforted you and broke you all at once.

“I’m scared.” You whisper.

She smiles at you gently, patting your head gently as you peer up at her with tears between your lashes.

“And that’s okay.” She reassures you with a soft voice, “The only thing scarier than being scared is not feeling at all.”

Before you go to where your heart tells you to—your mind is the only thing that keeps you rooted in some form of rationale. That’s probably why you’re outside of Namjoon’s dorm. You don’t think you’ve ever paid his place a visit despite him telling you his address on multiple occasions, usually opting to hang out in public yet serene places where you were able to get a breather.

Your feet feel heavy and your fist is raised, but it barely moves. Especially when you’re just eyeing his door like a deer caught in headlights. You’ve rehearsed the apology on your tongue a million times, even if you don’t really know what you’re apologising for. But you feel like you must, particularly because you’ve senselessly let him see all of the feelings that you were trying to suppress in hopes of retaining the same ones he had for you.

You take a deep breath and deliver the first knock, the vibrations making your arm feel weak.

But you’re tired of always surrendering to bigger and more frightening things that you could understand. So you purse your lips and play the waiting game.

It seems like a long twenty minutes that you wait, but in reality, it’s only two when the door swings open. You brace yourself to see Namjoon, apology already sitting on your tongue.

You should’ve dropped a text, you knew that. But you decided against it because you haven’t spoken to Namjoon since what happened a few days ago. Neither of you speaking about the kiss or the way your eyes glistened when you saw Jungkook and Jennie together.

“____?” He asks confusedly.

You give him a meek smile, “Hi. Can I come in?”

He blinks at you, and you notice he still has his glasses that he usually forgoes during the times you’ve hung out—and you feel a little guilty for catching him at a bad time.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Sure.”

Namjoon steps aside and you’re welcomed into the space of his living room. The first thing you notice is the interior, and how … Namjoon it was. It’s both cluttered and neat, the palette of his furniture matching the overall vibe he emanated. His furniture is mostly wood, light sandalwood that makes it feel all the homier.

And you tell him such, “You have a very homey place.”

Namjoon turns his head to look at you right before he plops himself back onto his couch where you see the bits and pieces of paper scrambled across the floor and the couch. Even then, he was able to look so welcoming even though you reckon he has a right to be hostile—for a reason you came here to apologise for.

“Thank you.” He flushes, patting a spot in front of him for you to take your seat.

When you settle, the atmosphere turns strained when you mull over your words so that you wouldn’t stumble over them. You practised, you did—about a hundred times before you came here and you thought you were ready to apologise and put things behind you but it’s proven difficult when all he does is look at you in earnest.

“Not that I—uh—mind,” He mumbles, “But is there a reason why you’re here?”

You blink at him as you ignore the quiver in your heart.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt.

“_____ why are you—”

“You didn’t deserve what happened the other day.” You interject, voice soft but unwavering when you force yourself to look at him as his eyes widen.

“I wasn’t the one that saw something I shouldn’t have.” He reminds you with a frown.

You swallow, “I kissed you. And you …” It wasn’t helping that he was looking at you so gently as he awaits your continuation. “You didn’t need to save me back then, Namjoon.” You end in a whisper.

Namjoon reaches out to grab your shoulder, touch gentle as he searches for your eyes.

“I didn’t save you …” He tells you tenderly.

“It’s not just that!” You exasperate while you throw your hands up in the air. “I-it’s everything … from the way you treat me and the way you look at me. You didn’t need to do any of that and you even—” You trail off, fluttering your eyes shut. “—what did you say to Jungkook right before we left?”

Namjoon’s eyes enlarge as his grip becomes tense against your shoulder. You can almost see the way his mind kicks into gear as he thinks of a response.

“That—I—does it matter?” He huffs.

Your eyes soften, “Namjoon.” You force yourself to look at him even if now he was the one that tries to avoid your gaze. “What did you say?”

Namjoon tightens his lips before he sighs deeply, head dropping forward before he looks at you.

“I told him to be honest.” He says softly.

You furrow your eyebrows, “To be honest …?”

“I know you have feelings for him.”

Your face blanches when Namjoon basically exposes you. It’s one thing for you to be self-aware of your complicated feelings towards the other boy. But when someone else points it out, especially when it’s Namjoon—the boy who’s been nothing but kind and patient with you while you’re too busy being caught up in your emotions—it’s like a slap across your face.

“I-I don’t—”

“You don’t need to lie to save my face, ______.” He chuckles dryly, eyes darting away as he tries to neutralise his expression. You wince at the spite he establishes, but you know deep down that Namjoon isn’t angry at you. No, he was far too understanding to be. Disappointed? Frustrated? Sure, but never angry,

The silence answers for you when you look away this time, eyebrows scrunched as you attempt to navigate the conversation. You came here to apologise, and to be honest.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“Don’t.” He takes a deep breath as you flinch. “Don’t … apologise.” He sighs.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on, Namjoon.” You murmur apologetically.

He shoots you a half-hearted chuckle, “You didn’t do anything. Really.”

“But I did, Namjoon. I kissed you back.” You frown.

“That doesn’t imply anything. I kissed you, and you reciprocated. We all kiss someone and not mean anything by it.”

You flinch, and you’re familiar with that more than anyone else. The reminder only stings because it makes you realise that you were not much different from Jungkook, the same person you’ve claimed to have messed with you and fucked you over.

“I’m—”

“Please don’t apologise anymore.” He says. “I already feel like shit.”

You smile sadly at him, “How do you manage to be so nice even when other’s do you wrong?”

Namjoon sighs, then he grabs both your hands in his. “You didn’t wrong me, _____. It’s not your fault you don’t feel the same way I do.”

“How did you …” You trail off.

“How did I know you had feelings for Jungkook?” He chuckles. “The same way he knew I had feelings for you.”

You purse your lips, eyes dropping to your lap. “It’s not that simple, Namjoon …” You say softly.

Namjoon smiles at you gently, “Is it?” He gently nudges your knee with his so that you’d look at him. “Life is simple. It’s not easy. But it’s simple.”

You scoff even if a small smile teases your lips, “You really are a philosophy major, aren’t you?”

The two of you grin in tandem before he purses his lips, possible mulling over something before he faces you.

“The two of you are close so … why beat around the bush?”

Your eyes flutter shut, shaking your head. “Like I said, it’s really not that simple.”

He rolls his eyes at you, but it’s not to mock or taunt you. Namjoon simply sees a naive, yet an intelligent girl who doesn’t see what’s right in front of her.

“Remember what I said? I’m a simple guy.” He reminds you, lips in a grin. “Try me.”

You snort, but you’re still nervous. You still remember that he has feelings for you, so you’re hesitant. And he immediately recognises the guilt-ridden expression that you mar.

Namjoon shoots you a stern glare, “Don’t overthink it.”

You sigh.

“Jungkook and I …” You start, fiddling with your thumbs. “We grew up together.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes and shoots you another one of his bland stares. “I know the history. I just want to know why?”

You furrow your brows, “Why?”

“Why the two of you insist on being so emotionally constipated.”

You gape at his audacity, and you’re glad the atmosphere isn’t as tense because Namjoon simply snickers at your reaction.

“I am not—!”

He waves you off, “Really?” He adds dryly.

You purse your lips and relent, even if you didn’t want to agree with him—you knew that he was … right. To a certain extent.

“We kissed.” You blurt.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, “That’s not surprising.”

You shoot him a dry look before he raises his hands in defence.

“He was my first kiss.”

At this, Namjoon’s widen.

“When you were in high school?” He pries.

You flush, embarrassed that you had to tell him otherwise.

“Two months ago.” You mutter.

Namjoon splutters, and you can’t help but glare at him when he quite literally chokes on his spit. You know you caught him off guard, but him rubbing salt in the wound that’s relatively fresh makes you scowl.

“Oh.” He clears his throat. Then he repeats, “Oh.”

You scoff, “Yeah. Oh.”

“Then … what happened?” You know he’s treading carefully with you when he asks you his question softly.

You purse your lips, and you recall every single moment you’ve shared with him. From giggles to hushed kisses, to intimate touches and sweat-stained sheets that have you gasping for air. You remember it all, and they meant … they meant the world to you, but just a speck in his memory.

“Things escalated and we … did stuff together.” You wince.

Namjoon nods in understanding, he gestures his hands around, “Like—”

“I’m a virgin.”

Namjoon blinks.

“And for the longest time, I felt embarrassed about it.”

“Oh.”

“I struggled to find my footing between being sexually liberated and being a woman because for the longest time I thought those two were mutually exclusive. For me, at least.” You say softly.

Namjoon only stares at you.

“And I always wanted validation from someone else to tell me that what I was doing was the right thing to do. Or the supposed thing to do. Never what I really wanted to do.”

“Not that I’m uncomfortable but … why are you letting me in on this?” Namjoon asks with a raised brow.

“Because I want to do something for myself for once.” You whisper.

“Okay …?”

“Why do you like me? Even if I’m … boring and not as sexy as other women?”

You sound pathetic, and the first person you find yourself comparing yourself to is Jennie—a beautiful, confident woman who looked so assured in herself.

“You’re not—”

You groan.

“Namjoon.”

“Okay.” He sighs. “If you’re asking me if I care that you’re a virgin, then no. I really don’t. Because frankly, that concept to me is false and problematic. Whether or not you’ve had sex or not isn’t any of my business.”

You duck your head.

“And I like you because you’re interesting. You’re funny and you’re assured in your own way. You don’t need to be a certain standard of pretty or sexy or whatever for me to like you. I like you because of the time we’ve spent together and that I’ve gotten to know you. The real you and not the person I admired from afar but the girl who throws in jokes out of nowhere but fits so well with the situation. The girl who’s willing to spend three extra hours of her time to help with content that wasn’t prescribed to her. I like you because I’d like to think I’ve grown to understand who you are.”

Namjoon says all of those things while staring at you straight in the face and you feel compelled to cry. Because no one has ever been so honest with you and you hate that your heart can’t reciprocate what should be an easy feeling that comes naturally.

“Fuck.”

His eyes widen.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He coos, a hand petting your hair gently as you sniffle.

“It’s not, Namjoon. Everything sucks because everything is so complicated. Why can’t I just have feelings for you instead?”

It’s selfish, and Namjoon winces. But you’re so overwhelmed that you miss it, and Namjoon is too nice to point his own feelings out.

“You don’t pick and choose your battles, _____.” He murmurs softly.

“That’s not what my mom told me.” You whimper.

He chuckles, “Yeah. Most people like to believe that because it makes them think that they have a choice over the bad things that happen in their lives. But in reality? They don’t. No one decides what happens to them. You pick and choose how you react to things. How you deal with situations and what you make out of those situations is what you can choose to do. You don’t like me, and that’s fine. You don’t have to just because I’m nice to you, _____. Being nice is the absolute bare minimum and something that everyone should feel and do.”

Your face crumbles, “Why are you so wise?”

Namjoon smiles, “I’m not. It’s called offering a different perspective. Just because I see things one way doesn’t make me any better than you who sees things in another. That’s why we meet different types of people throughout our lives. The good, the bad, the in-between. There’s always something people offer to us in the midst of chaos.”

You sigh.

“I’m sorry, Namjoon.”

He pats your head, “I said don’t apologise.”

“No, but I want to. You’ve been nothing but kind to me and you picked up a shitty situation to be in when Jungkook and Jennie were at the library. Even right after I kissed you. That was … a horrible thing to do. I shouldn’t have done that just because—just because I was confused … you don’t deserve that.”

He doesn’t look angry, and that’s even worst because you want him to react, to call you a bitch and say that you were a horrible person.

“I don’t.” He shrugs while you wince. “But a lot of the times we don’t deserve a lot of things that we get. And that’s okay. You did what you thought was justified then, and there’s nothing you can do to change it. But you’re hurting too, and you’re confused—that’s what drove you to do the things that you did, and even here. That’s why you’re apologising to me, right? Because you’re not as confused anymore?”

You shake your head.

“I am, I’m still so confused.” You whisper.

“Then let me offer you another perspective.”

You look up to him with big eyes as he smiles at you gently.

“You have feelings for Jungkook.” You immediately flinch, even if he didn’t hit you. But Namjoon continues. “You’re trying to keep the picture as simple as you can even if it hurts you in the process. But

“You don’t understand, Namjoon … we … did things … that I’m not proud off …”

“You don’t have to—”

“He was my first kiss. My first … sexual experience. Even if it was just … third base,” You cringe, but Namjoon isn’t judging you at all. “A-and that’s all I was to him. An experience.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Do I, Namjoon?” You say softly. “He said things to me that were so hurtful. And a stupid part of me forgives him but it still hurts every time I think about it and when I see him with Jennie.”

You whisper the words Jungkook’s said to you, and for the first time, you see Namjoon’s jaw harden. The most emotion that wasn’t rationale you’ve seen in Namjoon ever since you first arrived.

“I know it hurts.” He murmurs, holding you close. “And I really don’t want it to seem like I’m justifying his words … but would you want to hear me out?”

You purse your lips and nod nevertheless.

“Jungkook isn’t a bad person.” You blink, you never thought he was. “I know you don’t think he is but you want to. Because of the things he’s said to you because why would a good person say those kinds of things, right? But the world isn’t black and white like that. There’s a grey area where 99% of the population falls into because we operate on emotion and sometimes we say things that we may feel but not necessarily believe in.”

“Jungkook … he’s still young. And I know we’re in college and stuff but he’s still three years younger than I am and two years younger than you. He’s spoken to me about how hard it was to adjust to a high school life where you, Jimin and Tae weren’t a part of. And I don’t know about you but if the only friends I’ve ever known suddenly left because they had to … I wouldn’t know what to do either. He was at a point in his life where his environment played a huge part in the values and internalised beliefs he had.”

You look away as you reflect on his words, nibbling on your bottom lip.

“He mixed around with different groups of people, and I hate this saying but it’s still a common belief to many—especially people his age, almost out of high school. But the ‘boys will be boys’ mentality is more than just misogyny and sexism, but a culture where it feeds off complacency and peer pressure. Jungkook suddenly had to shift from three, good friends who were progressive and influential in an objectively good way to people he was obliged to like because they were his peers.”

You gape at him, purely because you knew that Namjoon was smart and wise but his introspection leaves you breathless and enlightened.

“But that doesn’t change the core of Jungkook,” Namjoon says. “He’s still Jungkook. He doesn’t know how to ask for things that he wants without feeling like he’s betraying his masculinity. And again, I’m not justifying his actions because he’s a grown man too. But he’s lost, and the only thing he knows to uphold this sense of masculinity is by being sexually liberated. Even if he conflates his own emotions with his endeavours.”

“I … I don’t even know what to say Namjoon.” You murmur, eyes looking up through your lashes.

“You don’t need to say anything. I just want you to be honest to yourself, not anyone else. But yourself.” He tells you, carding a gentle hand over your head.

You fiddle with your thumbs.

“What do you want?”

Despite you confiding two different people, you find yourself at a convenience store at 12AM, scarfing down ramen from a cup noodle because your mind was a funny place when it was muddled with a hundred different thoughts. You knew sleep wasn’t an option for you either, and you were hungry. But somehow you didn’t have anything back in your apartment that screamed ‘I’m in a crisis’ enough for you to eat.

Which is why you’re here, while the cashier keeps his eyeball to himself when he sees yet another college student who’s probably having their third mental breakdown of the day.

It is, but not for the right reasons, you think dryly.

You think you’re alone until the chime of the bell momentarily distracts you and you turn your head to acknowledge the next lone customer who may be going through their own set of issues, or had a fucked up sleeping schedule.

But you’re not expecting to make eye contact with Jennie, out of everyone or any stranger you could’ve come across.

She spots you, shoots you a weird look that has you nearly choking on a string of noodles before she moves on to what she came here to do and stops at the snack section, skimming through her options before she settles on a pack of shrimp chips. Your heart churns because they were Jungkook’s favourite. You don’t want to wonder why she picked them.

You turn to your noodles, scarf them down some more because you want to eat your thoughts away even if you’re half-considering to call Jungkook, tell him you wanted to talk. But you knew that if you spoke to him now when you were still sorting out your thoughts, you’d end up in a situation you won’t be ready to deal with.

So when you poke at your food and sigh to yourself, you almost miss the way the stool beside you scrapes against the floor as you cringe.

You turn to shoot a petty glare at the person, and you see Jennie; casually tearing open her chips and popping one into her mouth

You blink at her, and you’re left even more speechless when she juts her hand out as if to offer you a shrimp cracker. Like it was a weird symbol of a truce. Even if you weren’t really … enemies.

“Want some?”

You stare at her, and before you can think twice your lips are moving.

“The crackers or your company?” You say dryly.

Her eyes widen, and so does yours. You didn’t expect to say your exact thoughts and you don’t think she expected a quiet, timid girl like you to have said that—out loud at least. Like Yena said, everyone has a mean bone in them. Some longer and larger than others, but they were still there.

“Wow.” She huffs, but she doesn’t seem offended. “Rude, much?”

You wince and feel compelled to apologise. “Sorry.”

She waves you off and you feel odd to be sitting next to her. You always expected her to be more malicious, a lot more of a bitch. And you frown to yourself because you suppose it’s your own preconceived notions of her due to the association she has with Jungkook that had you thinking of her that way.

“What’s someone like you doing here on a weekday?” She asks off-handedly.

The term ‘someone like you’ doesn’t sit well with you, and you scowl.

“I’m eating. What does it look like?” You retort, and Jennie only raises an eyebrow at your response. Much like an angry kitten.

“Damn, I was just asking.” She mutters under her breath, “I’m hungry. Needed a snack.” She shakes the crackers in front of you, “You sure you don’t want one?”

You can’t believe her as you gape at her easy-going state when she thrusts the bag of crackers into your face yet again.

“No.” You furrow your brows, gently pushing it away as she shrugs her shoulders.

“It’s good.” She reasons, and you don’t know why she’s so adamant about having you take one.

The irrational part of you thinks she wants to poison you, to eliminate you for good so she won’t have to deal with your pathetic pining over a person that wasn’t even yours.

“I know.” You mutter. “I tried it before.”

Jennie nods her head slowly, observing the content of the packet on the back before she turns to face you, “Jungkook introduced this to me. Didn’t see the appeal but it’s addictive.”

You freeze, and your ramen soup is getting cold with the way you haven’t prodded at it for a while and in the air-conditioning in the convenience store. You feel your stomach drop, especially now that your initial suspicions were confirmed.

“That’s nice.” You grit. It really isn’t.

“Did he introduce it to you?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

Why you’re still talking to her, or why she was bothering to talk to you when she’s ignored you all this while—you aren’t sure. But you still answer her despite the spite that forms in your chest.

“I introduced it to him.” You inform.

She hums, unbothered. It only irritates you more.

“Is there a reason?” You huff. “Why you’re here?”

She raises an eyebrow, “I’m hungry?”

You scoff. “No.” You slam the table ever so slightly because even if you were annoyed and confused, you weren’t that brave and you didn’t want to cause a scene at a convenience store at midnight. “Why are you here. Talking to me.”

Jennie blinks at you, then stares at you for seconds too long that you flush under her unwavering stare before she ends up in a fit of giggles. You almost think she’s here to mock you, to call you out on your pathetic and humiliating pining for someone who doesn’t care about you the same way you do to him. But she pats you on the shoulder, and you want to think it’s condescending but it doesn’t seem that way at all.

“You’re an acquaintance. You looked like you needed the company.”

You frown, “I don’t.”

She rolls her eyes, munching on another chip.

“You do. Your posture looks depressing.”

“Excuse me?” You scowl.

“It’s true.” She shrugs. “You don’t seem the type to be here wallowing unless it’s really bad. You seem like you have your shit together.”

And because your mind is already muddled and confused, and filled with irrational thoughts. Her words set you off, and you seem to be underrating or overreacting more than usual. So you snap, you shove your cup aside that the soup nearly sloshes out and send her a glare so blazing that Jennie’s caught off guard.

“And you think you know me well enough to gauge whether or not I’m ‘like this’ or the type to have a perfect mental breakdown regimen because I’m smart?” You seethe. Jennie’s eyes widen. “I have mental breakdowns like every other student and I binge eat when I’m stressed and I fuck up from time to time. I curse, yes! I see your face. Oh does she not curse? Well, look at me, bitch. I can curse like a motherfucking sailor at sea when the fishes come because I’m human. I’m just like you. So fuck off with your ‘you seem like you have your shit together’ because I don’t and I’m so fucking annoyed with your stupid face whenever I see it because it only reminds me of Jungkook!”

The silence is defining, even the cashier stops counting his bills for the night because you don’t hear the rubbing of money together. You feel his stare on your back, and more pressingly, you feel Jennie’s shocked expression linger on your face, and now that you’ve come down from your rage. Your face heats up in embarrassment.

You don’t even recall what you said, except for the fact you’ve mentioned her and Jungkook in the same sentence. And your face pales.

“I …” She chokes.

You flush, before you’re turning away, snatching your belongings to leave and forget this convenience store and never return because you don’t think you can show your face here ever again.

But before you’re able to make a run for it, a hand grabs your elbow that stops you from moving any further.

“This is already as embarrassing—” You exasperate, trying to snatch your arm away.

“For a girl so smart, you’re really dumb, aren’t you?” She deadpans.

You gape, finding enough strength to retrieve your arm as you stare at her with a dumbfounded expression.

“Excuse me—?”

“Firstly, let’s unpack what you just said because there are a lot of things that need to be dissected here.” She says blankly.

You scowl, “Look I don’t—”

“One.” She blinks as if she was doing a presentation for a course and not talking to an alleged acquaintance. “I don’t think you should act a certain way just because you’re smart. You’re entitled to your own mechanisms and I’m not judging you for them. I was simply pointing out my own observations, and I’m sorry for being insensitive.”

You’re stunned to silence, because did Jennie just … apologise to you?

“Two.” She says. You listen silently. “I think you have things you need to talk to Jungkook about, and frankly—I would’ve stayed away if I knew that the two of you were a thing.”

“We’re not a thing!” You cry, face flushed.

She shoots you an unimpressed look, “Really. So that oddly targeted blow-up was because of your mental breakdown and not because you don’t have feelings for Jungkook?”

She’s the third person to call you out the same day, or within the first one in the next. And it’s even more embarrassing because it’s the girl you’ve compared yourself to countless times because of your own insecurities.

“Yes.” You snap childishly.

Jennie sighs, gesturing for you to sit on the stool. You want to defy her out of spite, but you’ve already gotten this far into the conversation and you feel like you’d miss out on something if you left now.

“Why are you mad at me?” She asks.

“I-I’m not mad—” You weakly protest.

“You are. There’s anger in you and if it’s not directed to Jungkook then it’s directed to me. Is it because I’m a woman?”

Your eyes widen, “What—?”

“Let me reword that,” She sighs. “Is it because I’m the woman with Jungkook?”

You flinch at her declaration, especially since she indirectly confessed to being with him, while you weren’t.

“I don’t …” You trail off in a whisper.

“I don’t blame you for being angry.” She says. “But I need you to understand that I would never have done anything with him if I knew that the two of you were together.”

“We’re not.” You blink, and her unimpressed look is still there that makes you speak a little louder. “We’re not together.”

She opens her mouth to say something, then shuts it. You see her furrow her eyebrows before she settles for a response that comes a few moments after.

“Okay, then if you’re not together then why the resentment?” She puts it so simply and now that you’re listening to her, you feel a lot stupider.

“I just …” You croak, fiddling with your fingers, “I don’t …”

She sighs, “Listen. We’re both women here. I know how it feels to be left in the dark when it comes to things like this but there’s no point in being angry at me when in reality it’s Jungkook you need to talk to. If you aren’t together then I don’t understand why you’re angry with me—or with him.”

You sit there in silence, nearly pouting like a scolded child.

“You’re his type.” You say softly.

Jennie pauses before she raises an eyebrow.

“And you believe that?”

You furrow your eyebrows, “I mean, of course?” You mumble, “You’re pretty, confident and sexy. Any guy would like you.”

For a moment, you think you’ve said too much. Looked to vulnerable. But Jennie doesn’t do the typical mean girl thing where she laughs in your face and threatens to expose you. Instead, her eyes soften, and her hand reaches out to hold yours.

“____.” She calls your name gently, and you look away, embarrassed. “You’re pretty. You’re confident. You are sexy.”

You flush, “No. I’m not.”

She scoffs, “_____, there isn’t a set definition of what a pretty woman is like. Nor is there a one-dimensional understanding of a confident woman. There are confident women who strut in their walk and commands all the attention in the room. But there are also quiet, assured women who are intelligent and confident in their capabilities. Both of them are so different, but the one thing that they have in common?” She prompts as your eyebrows furrow. “They’re both women who are worthy of love.”

You blink up at her when her tone goes softer.

“I don’t think I’m Jungkook’s type.” She tells you.

But for some reason you need to deny it, again.

“I think you are.” You mumble, “You’re … you. And you’re probably … experienced.” You cringe at what you say, and you’re mortified if you need to explain yourself to her. But Jennie immediately picks up on it, and you don’t notice how she tenses for a split second but recovers immediately.

“We’ve done things together, yes.” You feel your heart shatter, “But you don’t have to do anything with him for him to like you.”

You sigh, “Maybe. But that's the only way he’s ever wanted me.” You say so softly that Jennie almost doesn’t catch it.

Jennie’s face softens much more, turning into a much gentler expression as she nudges your chin to look at her. And when you do, you feel wounded. You feel so much less assured than you were when you were raging at her. You hated it, how she treated you so kindly when she should’ve been cursing at you like you did to her.

“Do you want to know something?” She asks.

You nibble on your lips before you nod your head.

“If someone doesn’t want you. It’s not because you’re lacking. It’s because they’re lacking the sense to perceive you in a way that recognises your inherent worth to be loved.”

Your breath hitches and Jennie continues.

“I’ve had instances where men didn’t want to sleep with me because I was too confident, too sexually liberated for them. As if who I slept with mattered because it wasn’t them. It was never going to be them.”

“I didn’t sleep with Jungkook.” You tell her, voice soft as if you needed to clarify.

“And you don’t need to. You don’t need to sleep with anyone for them to want you. If Jungkook only wants you for your body then he doesn’t deserve you.” She points out.

You feel your heart clench, and the realisation coming from Jennie only hurts even more.

“But he’s important to me …” You whisper.

“What’s important is not always what’s good for you.” She informs you with a gentle smile. “Your sexuality is yours. And if you want to sleep or be sexual with someone, you do it because you want to. Not because someone coerced you into doing it.”

Your eyes widened, “N-No. Jungkook didn’t force me. I consented. To all of it.” You murmur, “I wanted to do it. B-But I just felt so … lacking? In comparison and … since then all he’s came to me for was just … that.”

Jennie nibbles on her bottom lip, “Jungkook’s not a bad person.” She says softly. And she’s the second person that tells you that. So you know it’s a true reflection of his character.

“I know.”

She smiles, “We both do.” She nods, “But he’s misguided. He’s never had the ability to be with someone he really cares for and I think when that happened—he dealt with it the only way he knows how to.”

You furrow your brows, “But he’s with you.”

She shakes her head with a small chuckle, “No. Not emotionally, at least.” She informs. “And he doesn’t care about me. I know. He’s always kept me at arms-length away, and I’m fine with that because I don’t like him like that either.”

You blink, and your ears turn red. “H-How do you—?”

“How do I separate lust from affection?” She laughs. “It’s because I can. Not everyone can do that, and Jungkook is one of them.”

“But you just said that he didn’t care about you.”

“I’m not talking about me,” She smiles sadly.

Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion until you realise what she was implying. And you don’t want to assume anything, never. Because hope was the one feeling that was worse than fear and you didn’t want to subject yourself to that just yet.

“Oh.” You mumble.

She nods, squeezing your hand.

“I think he misses you.”

You purse your lips.

You missed him, too.

[kindahoping4forever]

I Don’t Wanna Spend One More Christmas Without You // Poly!Cashton

@cal-puddies​​ and I want to thank everyone who read/liked/reblogged/left us feedback during our Hoe For The Hoe-lidays event. We keep saying we can’t believe we pulled this off: between our 10 solo fics and this co-write, we posted over 30k words this week! I’m proud of not only that impressive feat but also the work we produced, these have been some of my favorite pieces in recent memory.

We knew we wanted to close out with a Galaxybrain co-write but we weren’t sure which of our lanes to feed. We figured, hey it’s the season of giving: why not both? 😏 In true Cass & Crystal fashion, this started out with us just being thirsty (we wrote the smut first lmao) but ended up being super heartfelt and emotional? Please be sure and let us know what you think, we couldn’t be prouder of this one!

Warnings: Reader x Calum, Reader x Ashton, Calum x Ashton; a relatively new throuple trying to figure out how to express their feelings for one another, filth but make it fluffy, unprotected sex within a triad relationship, oral sex performed on both a male and a female, manual stimulation of both a male and a female, cum play 

Word Count: 9150

Cass & Crystal’s Masterlist  // Hoe For The Hoe-lidays Masterlist

Let  us  know  what  you  think!

“Food’s here,” a voice quietly announces with a rap on the door.

You turn to see Calum in your bedroom doorway, sheepishly mouthing ‘sorry’ when he realizes you’re on the phone. You step over to him and whisper, “I’m almost done, bub,” reassuring him with a quick peck on the lips.

A few minutes later, you follow the sounds of loud laughter and conversation to the living room; you smile when you see Ashton standing there, in the midst of an animated story while Cal sits on the couch, hanging on every word, laughing as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever witnessed. You honestly wonder if maybe it is.

You bounce over behind Ash, throwing your arms around him, nuzzling his back; his leather jacket feels cold against your face so you assume he hasn’t been here long. “I didn’t know we were seeing you tonight,” you chirp.

He chuckles, slinging an arm around you. “I was texting with Cal when he was ordering dinner and it sounded good so I invited myself,” he explains, kissing your forehead.

“Bullshit, I absolutely invited you!” Cal insists, smiling eyes betraying his words of protest. You giggle at their banter and untangle yourself from Ash to serve yourself some dinner. Cal continues his teasing, “The food sounded good, just admit you missed us and move on.”

Ashton sits down on the couch next to Cal and nudges his knee tentatively with his own. “Of course I missed you,” he says simply. The two men exchange sweet, almost shy smiles and you feel your entire being light up with affection as you watch them.

It’d been four months since you and Ash had asked Calum to be a part of your relationship and while the three of you were still individually and collectively deciding exactly what all that means, you were happy and that’s all that mattered to you.

In the year and a half you were with Ashton, it was as intense and meaningful a relationship as you’d ever had - but it was never quite right and you’d split up a handful of times. During one of your “breaks” last year, a friend of a friend suggested that Cal might be the answer to your search for a new roommate. You met for coffee one day and immediately hit it off; you’d be lying if you said you didn’t quickly develop feelings for him but more than anything at that point, you needed a friend and Cal was there for you when it really counted.

It came as no surprise that when Ash started hanging around again, he bonded with Cal as instantly as you did and the three of you became inseparable. You and Ashton reconciled once again and couldn’t help but notice how much more communicative and at peace with each other you were with Calum around. It’s like he had been the missing piece all along, he made everything feel right - and you eventually told him as much.

Which is why you’re struggling so much with the bad news you have to deliver to your boyfriends. You sit on your living room floor, picking at your dinner, going over the dilemma in your mind for the 100th time, trying to find a different solution.

“Darlin’?” Cal’s gentle but firm voice shakes you out of your thoughts and you look up blankly. “Ash asked if you wanted another soda.”

You blink a few times, as if that will reset your mind and bring clarity. “Oh. No thank you, love, I’m good!” You call out towards the kitchen.

“You feelin’ OK?” Cal asks, reaching across the coffee table to stroke your arm. “We’ve been talking about this food all day and you’ve barely touched it.”

You look into his dark eyes, full of care and concern and know you have to be honest with him. “I need to talk to you both about Christmas… it’s not great,” you admit.

Ashton searches your face as he sits back down. “Is your mom alright?” He gently asks, remembering a health scare your family was dealing with when he went home with you last winter.

You offer him a faint, loving smile. “Everyone’s fine… great, even. Uh… my sister is getting engaged,” you share, chewing your lip.

“Oh! ...Oh,” he responds, starting to understand the issue.

Calum looks between the two of you, baffled. “I don’t understand, why is that bad? I thought we liked her boyfriend?”

“We do,” you start, carefully. “It’s just… With this news in mind, I don’t know if it’s really the right time to tell everyone about our relationship now.” You can’t bring yourself to look in Cal’s eyes yet, not wanting to see if he’s as hurt as you fear he may be.

He sits back on the couch, trying to process. “I thought you said your parents would be super understanding and chill about us?”

Ash sees you struggling to find the words so he tries to help. “They would be. They will be,” he reassures Cal with a warm smile. “I think the concern is that an engagement might seem kind of mundane compared to an announcement like ours. What’s more exciting than a daughter bringing home one son in law? How about the other daughter bringing home two?”

“They’d spend the whole time doting on us, making sure we’re comfortable, Facebooking all the extended family who’s coming to visit to make sure no one says anything that might offend us… her moment would get totally overshadowed,” you explain. “And I’d hate that, this is a big deal, she deserves to be The Story.”

Calum listens intently, nodding. You finally catch his gaze and are relieved to see nothing but understanding and compassion on his face. “OK. Well, wouldn't it be better if I just didn’t go at all then?” He offers sincerely.

Your exclamation of “Bubba, no!” blends with Ashton’s soft sigh of “Cal…” and you all have to laugh at the outburst.

"That's not me trying to be dramatic or anything, I just don't want to cause any trouble," he shrugs.

You scoot around to come sit next to the couch. "I've really been looking forward to us spending our first Christmas together," you insist, squeezing Cal's knee. "If you're uncomfortable with coming under these circumstances, I understand but for what it's worth, I would like you there."

Ash places his hand on top of yours, reassuring Calum as well. "The family's already expecting you, just as a roommate," he points out. "Plus… trying to keep our secret could be kind of fun." He winks at Cal, who can't resist breaking into a wide grin.

Your “fun” holiday couldn’t be off to a worse start the next morning when Ashton arrives bright and early to pick you and Cal up only to find you still in your pajamas, rushing to finish getting your bags together. After a few minutes of Ash stomping around, huffing about getting a late start, Cal, peacemaker that he is, offers to help him pack the car while you finish up.

You meet them in the driveway a few minutes later, dragging your suitcase behind you. Ash promptly snatches it away from you without a word and you glare at him fiercely.

Calum appears at your side and holds you by the waist. “You can’t blame him for being irritated,” he says quietly, rubbing your arm. “You knew what time he was coming, you should have been packed.”

“Yeah… but,” you start.

Cal is already shaking his head. “No, darlin’, there’s no excuse. We had a plan, you should have been ready.”

“See!” Ashton says, coming up beside the two of you.

“Well, you don’t get to gloat, babe, you could have handled it better,” Cal chides.

“I don’t like it when you don’t pick sides,” Ash says, coming over to peck Cal’s cheek. He presses his lips to the top of your head. “I’m sorry I was a grouch.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t ready and delayed us 15 whole minutes,” you reply.

Cal pinches your hip. “Passive aggressive much?”

Ash shrugs at you. “It’s coming out of your breakfast time. It’s a 6 hour drive, love.”

“I’m aware, love,” you fire back, helping yourself into the back seat. He sighs as you pull the hood up on your sweatshirt and stuff your hands in the pocket.

Ash huffs as he shuts your door. Cal gently grabs his arm. “Give her a few minutes. We’ll make breakfast quick, coffee and bagels; smother hers in cream cheese, get some caffeine in her and she’ll forgive you,” he reassures.

His prediction is spot on and by the time you’re halfway through your cup of coffee, you’re leaning into the front seat to run your fingers through both of your boyfriends’ hair. “I’m so glad I get to take you both home with me,” you say warmly. “I’m sorry it can’t be exactly what we wanted, but I know it’ll still be special, because we’ll be together.”

The rest of the drive goes smoothly and when you arrive at your parents’ house, the family is waiting at the door for you; after introducing Calum, you’re immediately whisked away by your sister, gushing about the recent trip her boyfriend took her on for their anniversary. You listen quietly and hope your smile doesn’t give anything away, you love that she has no idea what’s coming in a few days.

Your dad loves Ashton and couldn’t be more thrilled that you brought him home again; he offers to help him unload the car and makes a big show of pointing out how similar their leather jackets are, going so far as to make a “like father, like son” joke.

You sneak a few apologetic glances over at Calum, who you hope isn’t feeling too left out in his role of “your roommate” as he makes small talk with your sister’s boyfriend. You feel endlessly grateful for your mother when you see her sit down and start showing Cal all the gourmet vegetarian recipes she’s bookmarked on her iPad, asking what he’d prefer for Christmas dinner; she’s clearly charmed by his shyly polite responses and you fight the urge to go over and kiss over his squishy, crinkly face as her attention continues to make him more smiley and flustered.

While your mom and sister set the table for dinner, your dad and Ash carry the luggage to your respective rooms for you to get settled; you take advantage of the opportunity to break away and check in with Cal, under the guise of showing him the trick to operating the shower in the guest bathroom.

You turn the overhead fan on to help drown out your conversation. “You doin’ OK, bub?” You ask, massaging his shoulders.

He squeezes your hip. “It was hard at first but your mom’s sweet,” he gives you a sad smile. “Guess I didn’t realize how weird it’d be to see you and Ash act like a couple again, since I’m used to seeing you be… whatever we are.”

“The best thing that’s ever happened to me, that’s what we are,” you easily respond, drawing him in for a quick, soft kiss.

He holds you by the hips, resting his forehead to yours. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “You better get out of here before people get suspicious.” He presses his lips to your forehead and you step out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

You spend the next few days trying to make sure Calum doesn’t feel left out. Your dad invites him to join some of the “future son in law” activities he’d planned but Cal is easily swayed to stay with your mom and help around the house. His height and muscle mass are highly desired for decorating or carrying in groceries and he’s so sweet and well-mannered, your mom is just tickled to have him around. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she had a crush on him.

The day before Christmas Eve, Cal agrees to join the men for lunch and last minute shopping; your mom encouraged him to go because she wanted to make a secret shopping trip with you so you could pick out a few gifts for the family to give him so he didn’t get left out.

From what Ashton tells you when they return, the outing seemed to go well; you chatted with Cal a little that evening and he seemed to be in good spirits, happy with how things had turned out. But you can still sense him needing the affection you haven’t been able to provide; aside from a stolen kiss here and there, you’d barely touched him since you arrived and he and Ash had been keeping their distance so as not to raise eyebrows. What weighs on you most is knowing Calum hadn’t slept alone since the three of you became the three of you and you can see it wearing on him.

Ashton climbs in bed next to you. “Love… who’re you texting?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“I just want to make sure he’s OK,” you say sheepishly.

“He’s fine, love,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, then letting his lips trail down to your neck. “You’ve said he’s had fun with you and your mom and I saw him have a great day today. He’s good… now, me on the other hand? I could use some attention.” His lips firmly attach to your jaw and he’s practically laid himself on top of you, hovering.

You giggle at his lack of subtlety. “When do you not want attention?” You tease, pulling him into a hungry kiss. “I’ve been missing you too, Ash. I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you much, I’ve just been worried about how Cal’s handling things and I love my family but being around them is kind of draining…”

He cuts you off with a sweet kiss. “I know, baby… ‘s why I thought we could use a little stress relief,” he flirts, leaning in to mouth at that spot behind your ear that makes you crazy.

You hum with interest and brush his hair off his forehead. “We’d have to be quiet, we can’t have another incident like last year,” you say with a smirk.

Ash pulls back to playfully glare at you. “We’ve gone over this, technically that noise I made was your fault. If you hadn’t done that thing with your tongue, I wouldn’t have cum so suddenly and the incident would’ve been avoided,” he argues, tickling your side.

You try fighting him off to no avail. “My sister did think it was pretty funny… after the initial horror wore off,” you giggle, batting at his hands, trying to get him to let up.

After another minute or so of play fighting, you “win” by wrapping your legs around Ashton’s body and using them to draw him back over you. He kisses you with a little more emotion behind it than last time, pulling away to whisper, “I’m very happy I get to be here with you.” Your stomach flips at his sincerity and you wrap your arms around his neck, letting your kisses tell him how much you appreciate him.

Things start to heat up and Ash’s hands slide up your sweatshirt and over your hips; his hands are slow to tease you the way they usually do and when you rock against him, you’re slightly surprised you don’t feel him straining against his sweatpants yet. Your fingers travel under his long sleeve tee and dance over his abs to meet his waistband. You’re just about to dip your hand in when he stops you.

“Does this feel weird to you? This feels weird to me,” he sighs, flopping over onto his back beside you. He runs his hand through his long, dark hair, distressed. “Why does this feel weird to me?”

You roll onto your side, curling up next to him. “Well… we haven’t been intimate together, just the two of us, since Cal happened,” you say gently, stroking softly at his chest. “Do you think maybe you miss him being with us?”

“Yeahhhhh, I think so…” He lets out a long exhale, playing with your hand on him. “I just… it’s silly, you and me had sex a million times before we met him and now… I pull away from you and expect to see his eyes smiling at me while he kisses your shoulders. Expect to feel your skin already warm from his touch… expect to feel him warm next to me. Want it, even.”

“Ash,” you pout, touched by how he’s opening up to you, how open he’s being with himself about his feelings for Calum. “It’s not silly, you care about him. It’s not that you and I are suddenly uncomfortable with each other, it’s just that we’re used to more than this now. Need it, even.”

You rest your head on his chest and lay together, quiet and understanding while you both evaluate your feelings. After a while, you decide to lighten the mood, lifting your head up to tease, “A million times, eh?”

Ashton laughs loudly, clamping his hand over his mouth to muffle the noise. A beat passes and he meets your eyes for the first time since this conversation started, giving you an almost shy smile. “Think we could slip him in here undetected?”

You grin at him as you reach for your phone. “I don’t think the three of us would be able to keep it down, so no funny business,” you warn, texting your boyfriend. “But at the very least, we’ll get some alone time, even for a few minutes.”

Ash gets up and cracks the door, waiting for Cal to make his way down the hall; when he appears in the doorway, you see Ashton’s shoulders instantly relax. He gently closes the door behind him and wraps Calum in a tight, warm embrace; you can’t tell what Ash murmurs in his ear but whatever it is, it casts a soft, lovestruck glow across Cal’s features when he hears it.

His eyes meet yours and you open your arms wide. “Come lay with us, bubba,” you invite him.

“But…” He motions to the door, looking unsure.

Ash shrugs, “We can say we’re watching a movie.” He rests his chin on Cal’s shoulder from behind. “What do you say, babe? We miss you.”

Calum relaxes, gently reaching up to scratch at Ash’s scruff. He moves toward the bed but clearly doesn’t know what to do.

“Lay next to me, bub!” You smile, patting the bed next to you.

Ash lets a soft smile cross his face. “Why don’t you get in the middle?” He suggests.

Cal lays next to you and you instantly snuggle into him, throwing your arm across his body while Ash settles in on his other side. Cal wraps his arm around you and kisses your forehead; you look up with a pout and he presses his lips to yours. He pulls away from you when he feels Ashton nuzzle his cheek; Ash looks at him lovingly and gently plants a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Thought we were cuddling, lovers,” Cal whispers against his mouth.

“We are… just wanted to give you affection too,” Ash murmurs.

The three of you lay quietly for a while, Ash’s head next to Cal’s on the pillow and you draped across Cal’s body. His arm is tight around your back while he and Ash shyly play with each other’s fingers.

Ash looks over at you and you watch as his eyes take you in. “Our girlfriend sure is beautiful, isn’t she, Cal?” He whispers, lips gently pressing to Cal’s jaw.

“Gorgeous,” he agrees, turning his eyes to you, sweeping your hair back. Ash leans in to you first for a kiss, with Cal wanting one right after. You sigh, scooting up so you can rest your head in the crook of Cal’s neck, and let yourself drift to sleep. Calum knows immediately, he’s felt your even breath on his neck many times.

“She sleeps so easy with you,” Ash comments, brushing his fingers against Cal’s for the umpteenth time. Cal finally laces his fingers with Ashton’s, looking over at him. They stare at each other for a few moments before Ash speaks again. “I’m so glad you decided to come with us after all… I know it’s not perfect and not what we talked about, but I don’t think either of us would enjoy this without you.”

“I’m really happy to be here,” Cal responds quietly, squeezing Ash’s hand and your sleeping body gently. “I was definitely missing all of this though... thanks for bringing me in tonight.”

“We needed you,” Ash confesses, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Weird when you're not here now.”

Calum turns his face toward Ashton’s, nuzzling in and enjoying the warmth of his boyfriend, his rough hand wrapped with his; he grins against Ash’s cheek and Ash responds with a kiss to his forehead.

Cal stays, wrapped in the both of you, for another 45 minutes before the men agree it’s time to call it a night. He tries his best not to wake you as he slips out of bed but he fails, leading to an extra 15 minutes of your soft whines and insistence that he stay. He finally leaves you with a passionate kiss and a kiss on the cheek for Ash.

The next day, Christmas Eve, goes by fast. Various family and friends are in and out of the house all day, stopping by to share their holiday greetings. Continuing your family’s tradition, the men head out in the afternoon to pick out and haul home a Christmas tree and after dinner, you all decorate it together.

Like you’ve done since you were kids, the lights in the living room get turned off for a dramatic “reveal” of the lit and decorated tree when you’re all finished. The multi-colored lights get plugged in and brighten up the room, illuminating your sister’s boyfriend down on one knee. You squeeze Ashton’s hand and subtly brush your pinky down the back of Calum’s hand. Her “moment” is perfect and you silently thank your boyfriends with your eyes for understanding why you wanted this for her.

After some dessert and celebratory cocktails, everyone is exhausted but happy to be together. Your dad gets a fire going and your sister puts on the old Rudolph special you loved as kids; you plop yourself in Ashton's lap on the couch, with Cal sitting close by, close enough for you to keep throwing him little glances undetected. You know it must’ve been hard for him to go back to bed alone after the time you spent together last night and even harder today, having to watch you and Ash continually couple up and be gushed over by your holiday visitors.

Halfway through the show, your dad starts snoring so Mom decides it’s time for them to head up to bed. Your sister and her fiancée make it through to the end of the show but when you suggest following it up with Frosty The Snowman, they decline and tell you and the guys goodnight.

After such a long day, filled with so much unspoken emotion, it's surprising how quiet the three of you are now that you're alone. Sitting with your men in a room lit only by the warm glow of the fire and the soft colored lights of the tree - this was the type of scene you imagined when you envisioned your first Christmas together. But the feeling's not quite right.

You peck Ashton on the cheek before sliding off his lap, moving to sit on the other side of Calum, putting him in the middle of you and Ash. You run a hand through his hair, tentatively at first, just in case everyone in the house isn't quite settled yet. "How are you, bub?" You ask softly.

He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch and you feel your heart both swell and break a little at how badly he was clearly needing your affection. "Good. Tired. Happy I can finally do this," he replies, leaning in to give you a short but needy kiss.

When he pulls back, he grabs your hand out of his hair and brings it up to his lips for a kiss; he waits a beat then reaches for Ash’s hand and kisses it as well. “Missed you too, bub,” you murmur with a smile.  

Ash looks at both of you, adoration in his eyes. You recognize that look on his face, the one that means he’s searching for the right words, trying to line up his emotions with his nervous tongue.  

You squeeze his other hand that’s resting on the back of the couch behind Cal, sensing he needs encouragement and he glances at you, grateful.

"We both missed you, Cal,” he starts, shaking his head as he decides to go all in. “I’ve missed you, is what I mean actually. Not being able to have you close the past few days has me realizing how much closer I would like you to be."

He cups Cal’s face, stroking gently with his thumb while he waits for his words to sink in and his nerves to settle. He inches forward and gently kisses him; it’s brief but Ash is purposeful in the way their lips slot together. When he gets bold and slips in his tongue, Cal visibly tenses and Ash pulls away gracefully, not wanting to push.

You stop yourself from obviously reacting but your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest. You've watched them both struggle to navigate their feelings for each other over the past four months and you couldn't be happier to see at least Ashton take a step towards clarity. You gently rest your palm on top of their intertwined hands and squeeze twice; a supportive one for Ash and a reassuring one for Cal.

Cal, dazed, turns to look at you briefly before his eyes briefly widen as if a light bulb has gone off. He grabs Ash’s neck to pull him in for another kiss, this one more desperate, with daring tongue and teeth.

You quietly pull your hand off theirs, not wanting to intrude on the intimacy of their moment. You can't deny that witnessing their hunger for each other has you feeling needy yourself but you know how important this exploration is for them, how important it is for the three of you, so you patiently sit and watch.

They eventually pull away from each other, panting. You see them exchange a look of some sort and then Calum is reaching for you; he kisses you feverishly while lifting you over his lap and fitting you in between him and Ash. His lips move down to your neck and suddenly Ashton's tongue is slowly tangling with yours; you can tell by his kiss he's still in his feelings and you do your best to match his energy, letting him know you're there for him.

You break apart, one of your hands in each of your boyfriends' hair. You all look back and forth between each other and quietly laugh, ecstatic to be alone together and ready to take advantage of this opportunity.

Ashton gives you another lingering kiss, massaging your breast over your sweater before pulling away and immediately drawing Calum in for a kiss; they sit up on their knees, making out over you and you watch how they lose themselves in it, yet keep their hands occupied in each other's hair, almost as if they're unsure if they should go further. They each let out a quiet groan and you note the tents forming in both of their pants; you decide to help them out and reach to palm their straining cocks while they kiss.

It surprises Ashton more than Cal; he stops their kiss to look down at you. He runs a hand over your face and smiles at you briefly before his mouth is back on Cal’s.

You turn toward Calum, gently lifting his shirt and kissing on his stomach. He lets out an appreciative moan for your touch and you take that cue to unzip his pants; he eagerly cooperates in helping you pull him out of his boxers.

“Oh god,” he moans against Ash’s mouth as you use yours to slick him up before stroking your hand over his now wet cock. You’ve missed him: his sounds, his taste, the way he feels against your skin, the way he appreciates you and the attention you give him. You press sloppy kisses to his length, grinning to yourself as precum beads at his tip, moving to kitten lick at it.

Ashton gently tugs on your hair, wanting attention for himself. You continue rubbing over his bulge, adding in a few squeezes, buying yourself a little more time with Calum. You finally pull off and look up at your boyfriends, still lost in each other, though Cal steals a glance down at you while Ash’s lips are pressed to his jaw. He gives you a little grin and pushes his hand under Ash’s shirt.

You notice Ash falter for a second in reaction to Cal touching him that way but he quickly recovers from his hesitation, moaning quietly and tucking a hand in your hair. You pull at the button on his pants, taking his cock out and slicking him up as well; you swirl your tongue around the head, enjoying the soft groans you hear coming from him, thrilled that you're not sure if they're being caused by you or Cal. You notice that his hand has left you and has begun unbuttoning Cal's shirt; Calum reaches down and yanks at the shoulder of your sweater, gesturing for you to take it off.

Ash quietly sighs at the loss of your mouth but is quickly distracted by kissing over Cal's now exposed chest; you pull your sweater over your head and tug your leggings down while you're at it, leaving you in your bra and panties. You give a small whimper of relief as you press your thighs together before reaching for the cocks on either side of you, shiny and red, begging for your attention. You stroke them both evenly and firmly, watching with pride as their expressions change in response to your actions.

Calum is the first to glance at you and notice your new state of undress. "Fuck, darlin', look at you," he rasps, leaning down to kiss you, sneaking his fingers inside your bra to play with a nipple. "Look so pretty under all these lights." Cal smiles against your lips as he feels Ash's hand stroke through his hair while he kisses you.

Ashton pulls his own shirt off and then his hand snakes between your legs, tracing over the front of the lacy, damp material. "Mmm, so wet for us, baby,” he teases lowly, dipping his fingers underneath your panties to tap lightly at your clit. “Think you’ll be able to keep quiet if we decide to do anything about it?” Cal groans as he sucks just below your earlobe; he loves how responsive you are when Ash taunts you like this.

Proving his point, you let out a whine before quickly biting your lip to fight back any other sounds that might come out. Ash chuckles, suddenly rubbing hard and fast at your clit just to see how much restraint you have. You screw your eyes shut, determined to remain silent. “You’re one to talk, most of the noises I’ve heard tonight have come from your mouth, love,” you point out once you catch your breath. You squeeze his cock and he breathes out a deep moan, proving your point.

Cal chuckles at the exchange and Ash shoots him a glare, pulling him back over to him. “Laugh it up,” he smirks, kissing his neck to distract from his hand traveling to thumb over Cal’s nipple; Cal loudly gasps, body rigidly jolting like he’s been struck by lightning. He grabs Ash’s face with both hands and muffles his moans with an intense kiss.

You turn your focus back to Ash’s cock, knowing Calum is already dealing with a lot of stimulation from the nipple play. You bob your mouth on him a couple times, just because you feel like it and then work on building a steady rhythm with your hand. You bite back another moan when Cal’s hand moves down to cover yours, essentially helping you jerk Ashton off.

Despite their obvious attraction, your boyfriends have never gone beyond the occasional kiss during sex with you so tonight had already been a big step for them. You look up and see Cal, Ash’s lips firmly attached to his neck, looking curious but confident as he watches his hand move with yours. Your eyes meet and you nod, understanding; you drop your hand from Ash’s cock, leaning back to watch Cal seamlessly take over, continuing with the rhythm you started.

Ashton immediately reacts to the difference in touch: the unknown grip, the new sensation of rough calluses running over his shaft, the unfamiliar feeling of a hand much larger than yours stroking him. “Cal,” he shakily breathes, pulling back to look at him.

“Is this alright?” Calum whispers, hoping the quietness of his voice will mask his nervousness.

Ash closes his eyes and leans his forehead against Cal’s, breathing deep, trying to ground himself, trying to process all the thoughts and emotions swirling in his brain right now.

“Don’t stop,” he states with certainty.

Cal’s hand swipes over the tip of Ashton’s cock, spreading around the precum he’s coaxed out, expertly keeping with the established rhythm. You watched Ash’s expression change from confusion to curiosity and now you see it switch to the confidence you’re used to seeing from him, especially in the bedroom; you see his hand fidgeting at his side moments before he clenches his jaw and reaches out to touch Calum’s cock. His strokes aren’t nearly as precise or measured as Cal’s are but his boyfriend doesn’t seem to mind; Cal lets out a throaty sigh of his name and you swear it’s the most erotic thing you’ve witnessed yet.

The men lock their mouths into another heated kiss while they continue to explore pleasuring each other; with them distracted, you slide yourself up and off the couch, moving down to the floor to give them some space and to give you some space to spread out and really enjoy the sight before you. You tug at your nipples like Cal would and slide your hand down your stomach and into your panties to swirl your clit like Ash would. You miss their touch but you’re more than happy to wait your turn for it this time.

Your eyes don’t leave them for a second as you make slow, careful work of pleasing yourself. You watch as Ash boldly tugs at Cal’s jeans, trying to pull them down more; he gets them just below his ass and his free hand grips it tightly. You let out a little moan and Ashton reaches his hand out for you, finally realizing you’re no longer between them.

They pull out of their own little world, searching for you. Calum spots you on the ground first. “What’re you doin’ down there, darlin’?” He teases, moving down next to you.

You press a quick kiss to his lips while he undoes your bra; he quickly moves his mouth down to your tits, lavishing your nipples with much needed attention. “Just enjoying the show,” you confess, looking directly at Ash.

Ash moves from the couch, grabbing a blanket to lay in front of the fireplace. He discards his jeans before beckoning the two of you over to join him. You both crawl over to the blanket and before you get settled, Ash helps your boyfriend out of the rest of his clothes. He wraps a hand around Calum’s cock; he pauses to look at you briefly and then back over to the beautiful man naked in front of him. His tongue darts out of his mouth and before any of you can process it, he’s licking the tip of Cal’s cock.

“Oh,” Cal moans, tucking his fingers into Ash’s hair. Ashton, feeling emboldened by that response, wraps his lips around the head, continuing to test the waters. “Yeah,” Cal mutters. “That… that’s good.”

Ash’s other hand pushes up your thigh and you interlace your fingers with his. You watch as he tests circling his tongue around the tip before pulling back to turn his attention to you. He pulls your panties down, kissing your thighs and up over your lips, letting his tongue spread them so he can tease your clit. He pulls up as Calum settles in next to him, wasting no time in getting his turn at flicking his tongue over your clit.

“Been so good for us, think it’s time we repay you,” Ash murmurs, kissing up to your hip. He watches you tangle your fingers in Cal’s hair and groans when you do the same to him. His hand travels down between your thighs and he pushes two fingers into you. “Cal’s tongue feel good for you?”

You bite your lip, trying to hold in a moan. “Yes, love.”

Cal continues working over your clit while his hand reaches up your body, giving attention to your nipples once again; Ashton’s fingers continue pumping inside you, mouth settled against your jaw, unceasingly affirming his and Cal’s affection for you.

“So patient tonight, love,” he whispers, mouthing along your neck, careful not to leave any marks. “Lettin’ me and Cal play while you’re over here so wet and needy.”

You take a deep breath, overwhelmed at all of the sudden attention. “Wanted it for you, could tell you both needed it,” you admit, digging your nails into Ash’s arm as Cal’s lips enclose your clit and start sucking. “Didn’t mind watching either.”

Ashton grins and plants a sloppy kiss on you; he pulls away to lean down and run his hand softly through Cal’s hair before pulling him up from between your legs to kiss him passionately. Both men groan at the realization that Ash can taste your arousal on Cal’s lips; Ashton takes it a step further and removes his hand from your pussy, sinking his drenched fingers into Calum’s mouth. Cal hollows his cheeks and sucks Ash’s fingers deep into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them, bobbing back and forth on them, wondering when he’ll get to give Ashton’s cock the same treatment.

For what feels like the hundredth time tonight, your jaw drops at the erotic sight before you and you reach out for one or both of your boyfriends to tend to you. Your head lolls back as you whine, “Please... babes… I need you so bad.”

Calum promptly pulls his mouth away with a lewd pop and lays on his side next to you. “Need you too, darlin’, you have no idea,” he murmurs as he grabs your hip, easily turning you to your side and slinging your leg over him. “Can’t remember the last time I went this long without having you.” He takes his cock in hand, running it up and down to coat it with your wetness before easing himself inside you, silencing your soft, relieved exhale with a kiss.

Cal softly rocks into you, sucking gently at your bottom lip, stroking your hair back with his hand; you feel Ashton lay down behind you and begin running his fingers down your back, quietly showing you his care while respecting the moment you and Cal are having, much like you respected their time together.

Your hand moves down to grab Cal’s ass, attempting to bring him even closer to you; you feel his muscles tensing and flexing under your hold as he pumps inside you and you bury your face in his chest to keep from crying out. You hear the slick sound of Ash’s hand working his cock as he watches you two together and you reach for him, wanting him near.

“I’m here, love,” he reassures you, nibbling at your ear, massaging over your breast. “You two look so fuckin’ good together, couldn’t help myself.” He extends his arm, reaching to squeeze Cal’s bicep.

Your hand searches behind you until it finds Ashton’s cock, throbbing against your ass; you give it a squeeze and he whimpers into your skin.

“Ash needin’ you too, baby?” Calum asks, voice scratchy with desire. “Know you’re gonna make him feel so good, just like you’re doin’ for me.” He gives you a couple more slow thrusts before he pulls out and helps you onto your other side where Ashton lays waiting.

You smile hazily at Ash as he lifts your leg over his hip and taps his cock against your clit. “So generous with your body, love,” he praises you, hissing as he slides into your wet heat. “Treatin’ us both so good tonight, thank you, baby.”

You caress his cheek as he starts slowly thrusting into you; you press your lips to his and you both lose yourselves in a slow, intimate kiss. Calum hangs back, watching you two communicate what you need to; when Ash breaks the kiss to moan into your mouth, Cal reaches over and begins to play with your breasts.

Ashton’s large hand grips your ass to pull you closer, getting a deeper angle that has you seeing stars. You twist your upper body toward Cal and he kisses you briefly before moving his lips back to your nipples. You push your hand down his body to find his cock, getting in a few strokes before he stops you. “Trust me, darlin’, I’m not needing any help right now.” His hand slips down your body to rub soft circles on your clit. “Let us focus on you.”

“Babes,” you sigh in the form of a soft moan, raspy as it leaves your lips. The sound is so sensual it causes Ash’s hips to lose rhythm and he lets go of your ass, giving a few shallow thrusts before pulling out.

“You gotta take Cal, baby, I need a minute,” he pants, clearly on the edge of losing it. He nuzzles his nose against yours, helping you turn back to your other boyfriend.

“Hey, darlin’,” Cal coos, grinning as he enters you again. You immediately pull him as close as possible.

“Want you both close,” you announce, looking over your shoulder at Ash. He scoots in against your back, kissing over your shoulders. You sigh, “Thank you.”

You give Ashton a short kiss before turning to press your face into Calum’s chest as he works his hips a little faster, harder. You feel a moan reverberating in Cal’s chest but it’s muffled when it spills from his lips; you look up to see him kissing Ash hungrily.

You moan, getting lost in your own world, letting Cal have your body, feeling his body on yours, Ashton’s body at your back, the strength in their frames as you lay between them.

Calum pulls out and turns you back towards Ash. Ashton is still breathing heavy and his kisses are needy, almost frantic, as he pushes into you. “I’m sorry, love, I’m s’close,” he chokes out. “Between you and Cal…”

You cut him off with a kiss. “Nothin’ to apologize for, love,” you murmur. “Want you to cum for me.”

His fingers dig in and hold on to your ass hard, pulling you tight against his body. “Cum for us, Ash,” Calum whispers as he slides his hand down to grip Ashton’s ass, causing Ash’s hips to stutter and jolt against you. You watch Ash pull on Cal’s neck so he can sink his teeth into Cal’s plump lower lip as he spills his cum into you, shuddering in your arms. You let out a loud moan and you all hold your breath waiting to see if it’s woken anyone up.

Once Ash comes down, he tenderly kisses you. “Love,” he murmurs. You give him a few more sweet kisses before you feel Calum’s eager fingers on your skin.

Ashton helps turn you around and his lips shower your shoulders and neck with affection as Cal sinks into you. He groans at the new sensation of Ash’s hot cum surrounding his cock, making you feel even more wet and warm to him.

Ash pushes his hand between your bodies and starts rubbing your clit in time with Cal’s thrusts. “It’s your turn, love, been so good and selfless tonight. Let Cal feel you cum,” he coaxes. “Look at you, look at Cal, look at how good you feel to our boyfriend.”

Cal’s eyes are screwed shut, his lip between his teeth as he tries to hold in any noises. “Calum,” you moan softly. His eyes open to find yours and you lean in for a feverish kiss, a kiss that becomes all tongue as you work your body against him.

Ashton mutters “Fuck” behind you and Cal lets out a guttural moan as you start to squeeze around his cock. You whine helplessly, “I’m cumming.”

“I feel that… let it go,” Cal encourages. You press your face into his chest to quiet yourself and without thinking you start biting and sucking his skin. Ash keeps rubbing your clit through your orgasm until you gently push his hand away, too sensitive to let him continue.

When Ash pulls his fingers up, it’s immediately noticeable they’re covered in both your arousal and his cum that leaked out of you. As soon as that registers to Calum, he grabs for Ash’s hand and takes his fingers into his mouth again, cleaning and sucking them like before. Once he’s done, Ashton takes the opportunity to explore a little more, pumping his fingers, treating Cal’s mouth like he does your pussy.

You shift yourself slightly back, leaning more into Ash so you can watch Calum come undone. You feel his hips continue to drive his cock into you as you watch the obscene way Ash fingers his mouth. You could almost cum again from the visual alone.

“Gonna cum for us, baby?” You breathe, out of your mind with desire. Cal glances at you with a question in his eyes but you answer it before he has a chance to ask. “It’s OK, I want you to.”

Ashton pulls his fingers from Cal’s mouth and pushes your bodies tighter together. He wraps his hand around the back of Cal’s neck, thumb caressing his cheek. “Need you to cum for us, handsome.” And that seems to do it for him. Cal’s hips falter and he clings to you, groaning deeply as he pumps you with cum. It’s the first time you’ve ever let him cum in you and it couldn’t feel more right. His body is tense for a few more moments and then he relaxes, first pressing his lips to yours and then to Ashton’s.

“You’re gonna make a mess,” he chuckles as he gently pulls out.

“We’ve got plenty we can clean her up with,” Ash shrugs.

Cal considers that point and sits up, lifting your thigh to watch in awe as his cum - at least he assumes it’s his - starts to leak out of you. “Incredible,” he murmurs, leaning in, pressing kisses along your thigh.

Ashton sits up to join him and his eyes ping pong back and forth between watching you drip and watching Cal’s reaction to it. He swirls his fingers in the cum that’s now pooling on your thigh. He pulls back a little, drawing your and Cal’s attention. You watch in shock as he pushes his fingers into his mouth, tasting all three of you together. He moans and repeats the action, only this time, pulling Calum in for a kiss, sharing the taste with him.

They break apart and the three of you smile at each other, basking in the intimacy of everything that’s just happened. Cal lays down next to you, stroking over your hair as Ash reaches for his shirt and cleans between your thighs. When he’s done, he curls up next to you and Cal kisses him and then you. “So lucky to have you both,” Cal murmurs.

“We’re the lucky ones,” Ash smiles, grabbing Cal’s hand, interlacing their fingers and letting them rest on your hip.

“I hate that you have to go to bed alone after this,” you pout, kissing on Calum’s jaw.

“I’ll be just fine, this was worth it. Thank you both,” he whispers sincerely. He squeezes Ash’s hand and kisses your forehead.

You’re practically asleep, warm and naked, feeling safe with your loves when they finally decide it’s time for bed. The guys quickly pull their clothes back on and help you into yours. Ash takes the blanket to the laundry room while you put out the fire and turn off the Christmas tree lights. You hold their hands as you navigate the dark house, pulling them up the stairs.

You stop at the guest room to say goodnight to Cal. “You should come to bed with us,” you whisper.

Calum smiles at you but shakes his head. “I think we’ve already pushed our luck quite a bit tonight, darlin’.” He looks to Ash for backup.

“Your sister got her perfect engagement, we pulled off the world’s quietest threesome… we should take the win,” Ashton chuckles quietly.

You pout but know they’re right. Cal pulls you into him by your hips and kisses you, slow but passionate. “Get to bed, darlin’.”

You walk to your room and stand in the doorway, waiting for Ashton. You smile as you watch your boyfriends flirt, easily the most comfortable they’ve ever been with each other. Ash actively reaches out to pull Cal into a kiss and you decide it’s a moment for them; you lay in bed and close your eyes, letting the memories of the evening wash over you, filling you with warmth and contentment.

Ashton quietly enters the room, unsure if you’re awake; you feel the bed shift as he climbs in and you turn over to gaze at him dreamily. “How you feelin’, love?” You ask, carefully, wanting to encourage him to share with you without seeming like you’re pressing.

He lays on his side and gives you a loving, appreciative look. “Happy. Excited. Very, very grateful to have someone like you by my side,” he reflects, gently tracing where your t-shirt has lifted to expose your hip. “I know it’s taken me a while to kind of figure out what I need from this relationship… even back when it was just us, honestly. You’ve just always been so patient and open with me and I hope I’ve made clear how much I appreciate that. And you.”

You scoot in closer, resting your head on his pillow, your face inches from his. “Even before Cal happened, I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy, Ash. With me, without me… with me with someone else…” You both giggle and you peck his lips sweetly. “I’m glad you’re finding your place in all this. And I’m happy to do whatever I can to help you find it.”

You know it takes a lot for Ashton to share with you like this and you savor it when it happens. You lay yourself on his chest and he strokes your hair as you quietly talk some more. You’re starting to drift off to sleep when you hear your phone buzz on the nightstand. You look up at Ash, concerned, before reaching for it.

“It’s Cal, asking if we’re awake?” You shrug, quickly responding that you are.

Seconds later, your bedroom door slowly opens and Calum carefully closes it behind him. Unlike the previous night, he doesn’t hesitate to help himself onto the bed and snuggle into your back, resting his hand on top of Ash’s on your hip.

“Couldn’t sleep. It just… I don’t know... didn’t feel right being without you both after that,” he explains, kissing your neck.

Light kisses and soft touches are exchanged between you all and then there’s a brief discussion about how long the cuddle session should be. You push to have Cal sleep in bed with you and Ash and though they’re reluctant at first, you eventually convince your boyfriends that the family will be none the wiser as long as you set an alarm to get him back to his room before everyone is up and around for Christmas morning.

Ashton untangles himself from you both to set both the alarm clock on the nightstand and the alarm on his phone, just to be safe. You turn towards Cal and peck his nose. “Feelin’ OK, bubba?”

He smiles, brushing your hair back. “Me? How are you? Tonight was kind of a lot. This week was kind of a lot, I feel like I haven’t checked in enough…”

“Bub, I’m so good,” you promise him, snuggling into his chest. “I’ve got you, I’ve got Ash… I get to wake up with you both on Christmas morning. It seems crazy to say but I actually think this all turned out perfectly.”

You feel Ash press himself tightly against your back, stretching his arms out to hug you both, sandwiching you between the two men. It’s sweet at first and then it quickly becomes silly and the three of you giggle quietly, giddy with exhaustion and affection.

“Plus, now everyone has an idea of what we're all like together so it won't come as too big of a shock when I post a picture of me kissing you both at midnight on New Year's Eve," you grin back and forth between the two.

Calum chuckles, "Oh is that the new plan?"

You wrap their arms tighter across you and contentedly say, "New year, new beginning. Let my sister have Christmas, New Year's will be ours."

Your words hang in the air as you all consider the weight of them. Ash breaks the silence by laughing to himself, causing both you and Cal to look at him with inquiry.

"Care to share?" You ask, using Cal's hand to playfully jab Ash's side, causing him to laugh more.

Ashton looks at you both and smirks, "I was just thinking… if tonight was Christmas sex at your family's house, the fuck are we gonna do to celebrate New Year's Eve at home?"

Calum snickers beside you, a naughty look on his face making you wonder what's running through his mind.

"Well," you start, playfully nipping under each of your boyfriends' jaws. "We've got a whole week to figure that out, now don't we?"

————-

Taglist issues again so my apologies if you get notif’d more than once (or not at all)

@mymindwide​​ @suchalonelysunflower​​​ @pxrxmoore​​ @loveroflrh​​ @ghostofmashton​​ @sexgodashton​​ @feliznavidaddycal​​  

@castaway-cashton​​ @ashtonlftv​​ @cashtonasfuck​​ @megz1985​​ @ashdork-irwin​​ @angelicfluffs​​ @findingliam-o​​ @youngbloodchild​​  @irwinsbetch​​ @everyscarisahealingplace​​

@wiildflower-xxx @metalandboybands  @realisticnotes  @makeamovehemmings @golden166​ @burstintocolor

@mfartzzz​​​ @babyoria​​​ @petunias-pet​ @youngblood199456​​​ @notinthesameguey​​​ @seanna313​​​  @zhangyixingxing1​​​ @stardust-galaxies​​​  @zackoid​​​

@lovelybonesetc​​​ @xsongxbirdx​​​ @justhereforcalum​​​   @ashtonangst​​

@laura66sos​​​ @calumrose​​​ @karajaynetoday​​​  @pilunb​​​ @jazzyangel242​​​ @babylon-corgis​​​  @heyheyhaleyd​​​ @calmsweetcreature​​​

@spicycal​​​ @talkfastromance4​​​  @holystxne​​​

@meetmedowntown​​​ @myloverboyash​​​

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@trix-arent-for-kids​ @uh-huhh-honey​ @tobefalling​ @aladyofalbion​ @likehuhdude​

@curlycalums​​​  @cxddlyash​​​  @reddesert-healourblues​​​

@fedorable-killjoys​​​  @iamcalumswhore​​​   @i-like-5sos​​​  

@aquarius-hood1996​  @babylonashton​  @letmeadoreyoucalumx

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@crazyforcal​​   @neso-k​​   @deliciouslydisturbed365​​  @blxndeprincess​​

[seventeensarmy]

(2) Stuck With You (OT7!Hybrid Au)

Pairing: OT7xReader, Jungkook x Reader, rest will come in the course of the story

Warnings: a tiny bit angst in like the flashbacks, but also combined with fluff, bad written smut , oral (m. receiving), dirty talk, unprotected sex (reader is on pill, but i didn´t write that. Also don´t do unprotected sex!), spanking, dom/sub dynamics, that i described idk.. maybe a bit to obvious.

Words: 3.670

Summary: Planning to train the whole day doesn´t sit well with Jungkook, especially if he gets easily distracted. (Not gonna lie, this is kind of a filler chapter, because I wanted to give a bit more detail to JK´s and readers realationship)

A/N: Next Chapter we´ll have the next member appear, share your guesses?!

Previous / Next 

Chapter two

“And do you know where I want you? On your knees”

Taglist: @imezz​ @anxietylovesme​ @holaaaf​ @ot7purple​ 

(Not my gif)

One year ago ( Jungkook 21 / Reader 20)

 "Stop cheating!", you exclaimed, looking giggling through the mirror, watching Jungkook trying to warm up with you.

This morning he had insisted to try to warm up with you, but he quickly realised, that a ballet warm up looks a lot different than a normal gym warm up.

You were standing and bending down trying to reach your toes.

 Jungkook, being the good boyfriend he is, said he had to watch you do it first, so he'd know how to do it. Naively, you believed him, continuing with your warm up, not noticing that Jungkook didn't participate until you looked up to change the exercise.

"I'm not cheating, I'm practising my patience", he smirked, "You don't know how much patience and will it takes me to not take you right here. Seeing you so nicely bend over for me"

You felt the blood rush into your face, standing up straight to look up to him.

"Don't distract me", you whined, shuddering as his hands roamed over your body, setting on your behind. "I didn't get to train yesterday either", you pouted, remembering the way he didn't even let you leave the bed yesterday.

His grip tightened around your waist, one hand left to bring down a harsh slap on your ass, making you whimper.

"But I'm pretty sure you still owe me two free days, seeing as you trained three weeks non-stop."

You looked away, not wanting to see his smirk, as you realised he was right.

The last years had been rough, but better because of Jungkook.

 After hearing about your parents’ death you didn't know what to do. You were underage with no family, you couldn't live alone.

The lawyer came the next day and had even brought his hybrid, claiming that maybe the hybrid would have a calming effect on you.

After smelling the hybrid Jungkook came stomping out of the room he was hiding in, saying if someone would calm you it was him.

The lawyer had asked you if Jungkook was your hybrid and you admitted that he wasn't. The both of you feared that Jungkook would now be taken to a shelter, but were surprised when the lawyer asked you if you wanted him to be.

You and Jungkook were speechless, Jungkook becoming your hybrid?! You nodded your head rapidly and you could swear Jungkooks eyes were becoming teary.

After that the lawyer asked if you had anyone who could be your guardian and you immediately thought of your nanny and cook.

Unsurprisingly both of the asked adults didn't even need to be convinced. But seeing as they both had their own families and didn't want to move into your house and you didn't want to intrude in their lives, you came to the decision that you would stay in the house on your own and the staff would just come to work like they used to.

Money was a bit trickier; till you were legal your guardians would be in control of the money your parent left you. It was a huge sum and you were grateful, that even though your parents seemed to be travelling a lot they still managed to save up just as much, if not more.

 You and Jungkook should never have trouble with money, even of the staff was paid and bought the food from the same sum.

Now you were 20, last year you got your first credit card.

Hybrid laws were also changed in the last years, allowing them access to education (though not in public school) and even own money, so you also got a card for Jungkook with access to your money.

He started to be home-schooled with you, though he had to start first on the basics like reading and writing. But since its Jungkook, everything he set in his mind he achieved.

 You were planning to stay in Busan till you finished your school, maybe then moving to Seoul. After talking about it with Jungkook a plan was easy made.

You'd finish school here and move to Seoul, you weren't sure though if you'd want to sell your home. Jungkook told you that, if you could afford to keep it, you should keep it.

 Living with Jungkook was one of the best things to ever happen to you, he helped you to get over your parents death in a way no one else could. It had been hard, you couldn't eat and sleep, barley functioning.

It had been Jungkook who fed you when none of the staff could talk you into eating.

He was staying with you in your room, holding you while you were crying and mourning. True, the relationship to your parents was rough, them never being around and pressuring you. But they were still your parents and now they were dead.

 "Kookie, please. Just an hour or so", you begged, it was true, you were training a lot, but you had a performance in a few days and saying you were nervous was an understatement. It was the first time you were dancing in a competition in the age class adult. The people you were competing against were probably a whole lot older than you. “I think you trained quiet a lot the last weeks. A few days rest would help you gain some more energy” Jungkook said frowning.

“I need the practice, I know you don´t like it, but they all have more experience than me. How am I supposed to keep up with them? I have enough energy, I just need to get the choreography right. There are still so many parts that aren´t perfect, did you see my last few turns? If I don´t work on them I don´t even need to show up to the competition. Also, why would you even let me warm up if you don´t want me to practice?”, you were starting to rant, but you couldn´t stop yourself now, hands wildly moving you started to realise how many flaws your dance still had.

Jungkooks hand came up to your face, holding your chin tightly, making you look up and stop your movement. His gaze made you freeze immediately.

Never had you thought that your poor bunny would be so dominant and you never thought you would be so submissive. Though Jungkook told you it was pretty clear from the beginning that even though you are the human, you weren't really in control. You didn't know if you should have been offended, but you couldn't find it in you. You had just scoffed, saying, that if you really wanted to be in charge you could, but saying it felt like lying and your boyfriend just laughed.

There was no other person that you trusted like him, so you didn't mind letting him take control, it kinda took away a lot of your anxiety and stress and you saw that Jungkook was enjoying it too. Finally being able to have some control after living on the streets for years and not being able to control his own destiny.

You were looking up to him, hoping he would at least give you an hour.

He chuckled at your try to convince him.

"You know I don't like you training too much. You're going to overwork yourself again", his tone was calm, but firm, you tried to avoid his gaze, but he still held your chin, not letting you look away.

"Just an hour, please Kookie. Just for my peace of mind. So I won't feel bad"

 You could see him thinking, he was avoiding your eyes, knowing he would give in as soon as he looked at you.

Jungkook groaned, "You get one hour of normal training. Don't even think about pushing more than usual or I'll make you sit on that couch for the rest of the week. And I'm watching."

Knowing it wouldn´t be smart to argue you nodded, hugging him tight. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." He rolled his eyes and sat down.      

You started training, the moves just so flowing out of you, you didn´t even need to think about it. Dancing was the only thing in your life that was constantly there, before you had Jungkook, you had dance. While your parents had always pressured you to do better and told you to take part in competitions, you had still kept your love for ballet. Now dancing felt like the most natural thing to you, that doesn´t mean there weren´t moments where you wanted to quit.

You remember first starting to dance on pointe and how your toes kept hurting even days after. You couldn´t imagine continuing dancing like that, where was the fun in doing it when it was hurting you while doing it. You remember your mother screaming at you when you told her; you didn’t want to dance anymore. She was telling you how ungrateful you were being, claiming that you shouldn´t stop the only thing you were good at/for just because you were weak.

But you also remember Jungkook comforting you when you were crying to him that day, you almost expected him to tell you to quit, because you were crying so much. You knew he didn´t like seeing you sad or hurt, so it would only make sense for him to tell you to stop, but he didn´t. Instead he told you, that dancing was your passion and you shouldn´t stop just because you hit a rough patch.

“It may be hurting now, but imagine how you´ll be feeling once you can dance absolutely free. You´ll be able to do anything you like. Don´t you think that pain will be worth it in the end?” Your first reaction to his speech was a snort, no eleven year old boy could talk like that, you were convinced he heard something along the lines before somewhere and decided to recite that to you. But then you saw the serious look on his face and understood that he knew what he said and he meant it. You went to bed that day thinking about his words, you couldn´t really imagine how it would feel to dance without pain again, you didn´t think that would be possible again. Then the words Jungkook spoke hit you, you wanted to know how it would feel, you wanted to dance.

Thinking back on it now, you realised how stupid you were for even thinking about stopping dancing, but that´s why you were also so thankful for the bunny. You didn´t know how you would have decided without him, maybe you would have continued for your mother and grew to hate it, maybe you would have stopped and suffered the wrath of your mother.

Arms snaked around your torso, stopping your movement; you felt a hand brush your cheek. “Why are you crying?” Jungkook asked softly. You didn´t realise you were crying, you held eye contact through the mirror, cupping his hand with your smaller one and leant back on him. The two of you were just swaying comfortably to the music in the background.

“I just thought about how thankful I´m for you” you said quietly, knowing your boyfriend will hear you anyway. “You are pretty amazing, you know?”

Jungkook grinned before firing tiny kisses to your cheek and jaw, “I know I´m great, but don´t forget that you made me this great.” You shook your head, “You did that by yourself, I just let you be.”

The song faded out, but the two of you stayed this close, still swaying with no real rhythm. “You know, I looked at some houses in Seoul. I think there are some you´d really like” Jungkook mumbled into your hair, before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You hummed before finally turning around to face him, “But Kookie, we still have to finish the school year here, before we can go and move out.”

You were a bit confused why he would already worry about your new place; you still had to finish your last year of home schooling. “I know, but I thought, that we could maybe start looking around a bit, also, your school year has like eight months left, which isn´t a year, if I´m correct”

Jungkook looked smug as he realised, you couldn´t really say anything against that, you shook your head and rolled your eyes, “Whatever” You tried to wiggle out of his grip, but the way to strong bunny didn´t let you move an inch.

Instead he gripped your chin tightly, “Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he asked in a low tone, sending shivers down your spine. When you first started dating Jungkook showed already, that he didn´t accept certain behaviours and he had no problem to put you in your place should you forget. After you helped him with his first rut he only got more demanding, but you didn´t mind.

You loved to see him so confident and sure of himself and he loved to see you trusting him so much to let him be. You knew he loved being in charge and having power and he knew you loved feeling small and being taken care of, in a way you could say, that your childhood made you what you are today.

“I´m sorry”, you whimper out, not wanting to meet his stern gaze, silently cursing yourself. You knew that there was a good chance he would punish you, he already punished you for less, and while you loved it and the pleasure it brought, you loved being good for him. You wanted to be praised, be his good girl, the way he would praise you and tell you how good you were being for him always managed to make your heart flutter.

“Look at me” the dominance in his voice alone would have made you crumble to your knees immediately, if it hadn´t been for his grip on your jaw. “Did we forget how to behave now?” he spoke in a condescending tone that made your thighs clench. “First you train too much, then you dare to talk back to me, wanting to train even more, overworking yourself again. And now you roll your eyes at me and can´t even look at me. What am I gonna do with you, you brat?”

“I´m sorry Kookie, I really am”, you whine, hands softly gripping onto his arm. Jungkooks eyes soften for a short bit, before turning hard again. “I believe you are, baby girl. I know how much you love to be good for me, but sorry isn´t going to cut it this time. I think you need to be reminded where your place is. Tell me little girl, do you know where your place is?”

You shuddered, finally looking up to him through your lashes, already knowing what he wanted to hear, Jungkook watched with hungry eyes as you spoke, “Wherever you want it to be, Kookie. My place is wherever you want me.” Your boyfriend hummed in agreement, “And do you know where I want you? On your knees”

Without having to be told twice you sank to your knees, hands already on the zipper of his pants and Jungkook didn´t stop you, as you pulled his hard member out.

“That´s right, my baby already knows what I want from her. Trained her so good, so obedient for me. Go on little dancer, take it in your mouth. If you do good maybe I´ll let you cum today”

With new motivation you took the head of his member in your mouth, before flattening your tounge against his the underside of his dick. You kitten licked him a few times, but started taking him all in after he growled at you not to tease him. You began to steady bob your head up and down and Jungkooks groaning from above you told you, you did everything right. A hand came down to your hair and he started to control the pace, making you gag as his dick hit the back of your throat.

“That´s right little dancer, taking me so well, looking so pretty while you choke on my dick.”  

Jungkook watched you with hooded eyes, your hands tightly gripped the back of his thighs, tears leaking your eyes and the only sound to be heard were Jungkooks quiet groans.  “Ah fuck baby girl, if we keep going like that I´m gonna cum” he moaned and you brought your hands to his balls, trying to make him cum, especially after tasting his pre cum on your tounge.

But Jungkook had other plans, he pulled you off his dick making you stand up. “That´s not where I´m cuming in baby girl. Up to the mirror, hands against it” Before he even finished talking you were already in motion. Bend over, hands pressed against the mirror. You felt Jungkook standing behind you, big hands roaming over your back till they came to rest on your hips.

“Always so responsive for me, good girl” he praised knowing it´s what you´ve been dying to hear. His feet kicked softly against your ankles, making you widen your stance, before he hooked his fingers under your shorts, pulling them down along with your panties.

You whimper as the cool air hit your core, you arched your back, hoping Jungkook would get the hint to finally fuck you. You felt finger tips brushing down your spine till they came to a stop at your core. Whining you tried to push back, wanting Jungkook to touch you where you needed him most, but as he picked up on your neediness he chuckled, his one hand on your hips limiting your movements. “If there´s something my little dancer wants, she should just speak up”

You looked at him through the mirror, hoping your pout would make him soften up and just give you what you want. He caught your pout and smirked, one finger stroking painfully slow over your clit, making your legs tremble. “Is there something you want me to do? You are so wet, I bet there´s something you want. Speak up baby girl, you were so good at talking back earlier”

You whined at the thought of having to voice your wishes, but your whine was quickly replaced by a groan, as you felt his finger leaving your clit. Gone was the only stimulation you had gotten so far.

“No no no, Kookie. I want you to fuck me” you exclaimed loudly. You looked at Jungkook through the mirror, his face darkening and you realised, you may have forgotten something. Before you could talk again, a harsh slap came down to your ass, followed by the next. You first yelled out, but quickly started to find the pleasure in the sting. “Did you lose your manners? Is that how you talk to me? I thought you were my good girl?” he asked, not stopping spanking you and you couldn´t control your cries anymore. You could feel how wet you were and you needed him, now.

“I´m sorry, Kookie. Please, please fuck me. I promise I´ll be good. But please I need you to fuck me”, you begged and almost let out a sob as you felt his thick member slowly pushing into you. “Yes, yes, please- fuck Kookie” you rambled as he completely entered you, not giving you much time to adjust and starting off in a fast pace. Jungkooks hands both found your waist, holding you as he fucked into you. The only sound to be heard was the sound of slapping skin and yours and Jungkooks moans. You threw you head back, letting Jungkook lean forward to leave his marks all over your neck. One of his hands snaked their way between your legs, finding your clit and helping the knot in your lower stomach build.

“Look at what a good girl you can be if you want. Begging like a good girl, letting me mark you up, so everyone knows you are mine- fuck such a good girl” Jungkook moaned making your head loll in bliss. You felt your orgasm approaching, your pussy clenching around Jungkooks length. “Fuck! Keep clenching like that. Are you close, you wanna cum on my dick? Letting me pump you full of my load, yeah?”

“F-fuck, please Kookie. I wanna cum, please, can I cum? Please I-I” you were babbling by know, the pleasure coming from Jungkook combined with his dominant aura was clouding your senses. He chuckled and moaned as he also felt his dick twitch, “Look at you being my good girl and asking. Cum for me.”

At his words you felt white pleasure run over you, you came moaning Jungkoooks name, head falling forwards. Your legs felt like they might give up if it wasn´t for Jungkook holding you. Jungkooks thrust’s starting becoming sloppy, letting you know, that he was also close as he continued to fuck you.

Your pussy clenched around him, causing Jungkook to also finally cum, his finger dung into the flesh of your hips, no doubt leaving more marks. He moaned out your name, along with a few cuss words, before stilling. The sound of your heavy breathing filled the room.

Slowly he pulled himself out and turned you around, so you were standing chest to chest, you both still fully clothed above your hips. Jungkook pulled you into a sweet kiss, “My good girl, you did so well for me. I love you” You melted at his words, but the sweet moment was ruined as you felt his warm cum running down your leg. Jungkook noticed and swept you up in his arms, “Let´s get you cleaned up. How about a bath and then a movie?”

You nodded and relaxed in his arms, you pressed a sweet kiss to his neck and murmured a quiet “I love you Kookie”, but by the tightening of his grip and the smile on his face you knew that he heard you just fine.

 Next

[ramp-it-up]

Fresh Squeeze, Ch. 5

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x OFC Linden Marshall

Set in 2023, post-pandemic

Warnings: Cursing, Angsty Angst, drug and alcohol use, surprise flights, Anthony Ramos. Lots of Plot.

Word Count: 3.5 K

Plot: Linden Marshall just finished law school at Columbia University in NYC. Daveed Diggs is still creating magic with his platonic life partner Rafael Casal in the form of their Blindspotting musical, Bay Boys. Linden’s boyfriend WAS Mark Monaco, star of the superhero movie series Invincible.  They were together for years, and her trauma and his addictions were toxic. She knows now that wasn’t love. 

A/N: Keep in mind that this the same AU as Arrivals, with Holly Woods, but is BEFORE Rafa and Holly get together. And don’t come for me about Anthony.

Read the Previous Chapter.

===================

NYC, May 2023

Jasmine was blowing up your phone as you were trying to get dressed.  You had to search for it under the pile of clothes on your bed.

You had procrastinated getting ready, trying to finish one of your applications for a summer internship at this law firm in Harlem that you were excited about.  

You wanted to finally relax after finishing Columbia law in the top 10% of your class. You just wanted to relax and enjoy this weekend.

Craig, your mom and your uncle were the only ones to attend your graduation.  They knew you didn’t want any fanfare, so your famous friends didn’t attend, and they had a show to do, but they’d sent you tons of well wishes.

We're coming up, get decent!

You chuckled and shook your head. Anthony usually raided the refrigerator when he came over. This time, you told him to bring his own snacks..

You slipped on what you were wearing for the night.  Craig was in his room getting ready and you had volunteered his place, so you were playing hostess. You were surprised that he was so chill about it, actually. 

“Pika Pika,” you said to yourself in the mirror then ran to answer the doorbell. It was almost 6 pm.

You opened the door for Cookie Monster and Big Bird.  You burst out laughing. But you stopped when you saw Anthony's face. He had like five bags from Whole Foods that he was juggling in his blue arms.

"Jazzy!!!! There's my girl.  Hey Ant! leave the food and your girl. We may run off together."

Anthony came in the door loaded down with bags and kissed you on the cheek.  

“I love you Lindy, but fuck you man.” You punched him on the shoulder. 

“Ow! Time to get this party started!”

Linden heard Jazzy’s Brooklyn accent turn into a London lilt as she started play fighting with Ant. They felt like family at this point.

=================

Ever since the launch party in January, Jasmine had pursued you as a friend persistently. You normally didn’t let anyone in because of the circumstances of your life, but Jas was oblivious to your awkwardness with normal human beings.

“Girl, you are fucking DOPE, and you are NOT gonna deny my love.  I know your life has been a trip, and you don’t have to tell me all of it, but I’m not gonna let you shrivel up and be a little retiring wallflower. Life is to be lived.” 

Jasmine telling you that during a Saturday brunch date in February was the key to your heart. She drew you out, and you didn’t see what value you added to her life.

But she loved you anyway. And you loved her, and of course, Anthony was part of the package.  

He was beautiful, loud, talented, and reckless, but he reminded you too fucking much of Dell to be annoyed with him very long.

Your circle had certainly widened from just Craig. That was one thing for which you could thank Mark. You were working on him being a distant memory.  He hadn’t lasted too long in Bay Boys, quitting soon after the musical opened in March.  

Daveed’s hands and feet had ‘slipped’ one too many times during the scene when he was stomping his ass on stage. Mark cited health reasons, and publicly spiraled a bit. He was currently in rehab. 

Again. 

You had not heard from him and that was absolutely fine with you.

Because Jasmine was in Bay Boys and that was her life, the cast and crew became yours as well. Rafael was the type of chaotic creative genius that fascinated you; you could listen to him talk for hours.  

Things with Daveed were more tricky. Ever since that awkwardness with him after the launch party, you’d kept your distance, but you hung out a lot, so you were trying to be friends.

When you and Jas and Ant and Rafa hung out and talked, Daveed was there, smiling shyly and sneaking glances at you, throwing in pearls of wisdom every so often. 

He was so dope and so talented and intelligent and so freaking hot, but you were trying to get yourself together.  You were convinced that night in January had been a mistake. 

You needed some space. And time.  Law school was no joke, and you were in therapy so entanglements was not what was up.

Daveed sensed your hesitancy and decided to stop pursuing you. But he couldn’t stop how he felt.

You were both a little wasted and keyed up the night of the launch party, and despite the way you were beautiful and intelligent and sexy as fucking hell, he was not going to press you. 

Daveed was sure that you two could be something special if you would give it a chance, but he didn’t want to chase you, but he was so gone for you, that if you just nodded your head at him, he would be at your feet.

The attraction was undeniable. There was a crazy little dance you two did that everyone recognized and respected.  This group seemed to know you were fragile, and that you didn’t need to be pushed too far.

But the more they persisted, the more you came out of your shell.  The more you trusted, the more the old Lindy came back. 

Craig noticed first soon after you started hanging with the crew when you were trying to find a place to live. He went to one showing with you and sat you down for a talk.

“Girl, I love the light in your eyes.  I haven’t seen this Lindy since…well in a long time. Stay with me for as long as you want. I know you need to get through this last semester of school, you don’t need one more thing to think about. I’m proud of the work that you’re doing on yourself, Linden.”

You were grateful to Craig.  His place on the Upper West Side was super convenient to Columbia, and not having to think about finding a place was so clutch.  Third year was kicking your ass.

“Besides, I wouldn’t have this place if it wasn’t for…”

“Hush,  I don’t want to hear that.  Dell would have wanted this. I love you cuzzo.” 

=================

Craig came out in a Sully onesie and immediately dragged Jasmine into a conversation about the Met Gala that had happened a few days ago. 

You approached the kitchen where Ant stood, food all around him on the counter. You were whispering. He smiled a secret smile at you.

“I’m so proud of you doing this for Jasmine.  It’s good for you all to get away. I’m glad that she got a little break. She deserves it all.”

Anthony had arranged for this little get together to be a surprise for Jasmine. This was going to be a kickback weekend.

The show was on a four day hiatus while the set was moved to a bigger theatre.  It was a hit and was destined for a long run.

Ant’s green eyes lit up as you kept talking about Jasmine.

“Yeah, she does. And the woman of the hour deserves all the happiness in the world.” He lifted his beer to you.

They way he said that was weird and you were about to ask him what was up with that when the doorbell started ringing, you went to answer it and were stuck there for a few minutes as people started coming in. 

The food and the drinks were flowing while all kinds of characters came in. 

Now they also had Jack Skellingtom, and a Care Bear in the house to add to Big bird, Cookie Monster, Pikachu and Sully. It was an odd cast of characters who were jamming to 90's rap, eating chicken wings and basically tripping like only friends could do.

Then there was Toni, some tag-along chick who showed up with Rafa.  She had on a plain gray onesie.  What a downer.  

You’d  pegged her for  a star fucker who only hung with Rafa because of who he and his friends were.  The girl was too much in everyone's business. 

"Sooooo. You and Mark ARE broken up for real for real. The tabloids say y��all are back together!  I told my friend Susie you weren’t, but she wouldn't believe me."

You  just smiled and didn't confirm or deny, treating Toni like the paparazzi. The girl was oblivious to your hate and just kept talking.

Daveed rescued you. 

"Hey, Toni, show these folks how you can blow. They're setting up the karaoke machine over there. Show us what you're working with. Someone might hook you up with a gig."

Toni perked up and hurried over to Anthony and Craig, who were setting up the lyrics on the big screen to match the karaoke music. Some Bad Boy joints were up.

Rafa was behind them screaming, "Dylan, Dylan, Dylan!" 

They were a scene.  You  breathed and relaxed a little.

"Don't stress. She's not coming with us  to the island."

You looked up at the tall, fine Grumpy Care Bear who was nursing some of your special 18-year-old Chivas Regal that you had gotten for graduation. His beautiful smile shined out of his brown face and beneath the curls tumbling out of his hood. 

“I’m not pressed. I’m chilling. You can do what you want. With who you want.”

“She’s not with me. Rafa brought her for the ride to the airport. And it’s not entirely true that I can do what I want. With who I want. Because what if who I want to do doesn’t want to do me?”

You knew what he meant. But you eyed his drink instead of looking at him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him. That was far from the truth. You didn’t want to get lost in him. And you could see that happening.

Daveed saw your wheels turning. You were over analyzing again.  He’d spent three months observing you every chance he got. He felt like he knew your anxieties.  So fucking smart, but here you were thinking too much.

"Hey Genuis Ass. Want some?" Daveed’s voice was softer as he grinned and offered you some of his drink.  “Or, I could go make you something?” For some reason he wanted you to get loose. 

"Nah, I'm good Diggs.”  For some reason you needed to stay in control.  You played it off by changing the subject. 

“I still can’t believe y’all call me that.” 

Daveed just smiled and nodded, chuckling a little. He craned his neck and looked at it, having to dodge a smack upside the head.

“That ass is genius, you know. That’s the one thing He Who Shall Not Be Named was right about. And you’re one of the smartest humans I know.”  

You had to look at him then. The flecks of gold in his eyes tho.  But you could tell from the slight redness that he was a little zooted.  He didn’t get that way around you a lot, but you knew for the stories that he partied occasionally. 

He and Rafa and that Toni chick must have pre-gamed.  You remembered the last time you two were  tipsy together.You cleared your throat and looked away.

“Why did you lie to that girl? She can’t sing.” You were shaking your head, scowling at Toni’s screeching from the karaoke machine.

He winked at you. D was well on his way to getting LIT.

"What? She can blow.”  Daveed sipped his drink and watched her. 

“She’ll suck your soul out and spit it back in your mouth." Daveed was loose. And so was his mouth. But he didn’t care.

Your mouth was hanging open at Daveed as you wondered what Daveed had done with Toni, what Daveed AND Rafa had done with Toni... 

Shit, you were just going to ask.

"How do you know that she..."

"AWWWW SHEEEIIIITTT! THAT'S MY JAM! REMEMBER THIS LINDY??"

“No, I was like, negative 5..”

You raised your voice as he traveled away from you, smiling. He was not slick.

“Well you missed out being tardy to the party…” 

He was backing toward the mic, knocking it out of Anthony’s hand and starting the rap. Rafa joined him, trading verses.

Now as the record spins around, you recognize this sound,

Well, it's the underground,

You know that we're down with wutchyalike

Yeah, with wutchyalike, yeah

And though we're usually on the serious tip, check it out:

Tonight we're gonna flip and trip and let it all hang out tonight,

We're gonna say what we like.

'Cause, yo, yo, we want to know how many people in the flow,

Would like to just let yourselves go

And doowutchyalike,

Yeah, well tonight's your night.

Just eat food, try not to be crude or rude,

Kill the attitude, chill the serious mood,

And doowutchyalike,

Yeah, and doowutchyalike,

Everybody doowutchyalike

Everyone was dancing and Daveed had effectively deflected your question. But you would never forget.

By 8 o’clock, Craig grabbed the mic and motioned for Jasmine to come with him. You had enjoyed some cocktails finally, and just figured they were going to duet Wind Beneath My Wings just like they always did. 

You were actually moving to the music and feeling good.

"Ok guys, whew.  I'm hot.  Is it hot in herrrre?" Craig was fanning himself.

“Whoooo! Nelly!”

You yelled and everyone laughed.

Craig took his hood off and started to unzip his onesie. Jasmine did the same.

You kept dancing nervously, not realizing it, looking around at the others who were also disrobing. You did a double take as D’s abs came into view.  What was going on?

Craig continued.

"Lindy, I just need a minute to talk, can you stop whatever it is you're doing?"  He grinned at you from across the room. "You're still moving Lindy."

You blushed and stopped fidgeting.

"Ummm, Craig, what the..."

One by one people dropped their onesies, all except Toni, who had no clue what was going on. Soon, everyone was standing in Craig’s condo in their swimsuits, looking fine as hell. 

You just looked around, then in your cup wondering if you were too drunk and hallucinating.

“Lindy, you’ve worked real hard, and this past few months have been crazy, so we wanted to do something special for you this weekend, for your graduation, and for your birthday, WHICH IS SUNDAY!!”

Everyone cheered as Jasmine took the mic. “You think this party is for me. Well the joke’s on you bitch, because you have been hosting your own party!”

You opened your mouth, squeaked a little, then spoke,

"But why?.. Everybody?  But what..."

Daveed moved close.

"Damn, you fine," you whispered. 

Your hand flew to your mouth when he smirked in response. Everyone was rolling because turns out, you didn’t whisper.

Daveed cleared his throat. "Thank you. You’re fine yaseif. Anyway, Anthony and Jasmine have a house there, and we’re flying out of JFK tonight.  In about two and a half hours in fact. So we gotta get going.”

You still had only a part of a clue of what was going on. But you couldn't resist all of this.

"Okay? But... I don't have any clothes. And I don’t have a ticket..."

Craig came from the storage room off the kitchen with one of your suitcases. Others started getting their bags as well

"Everybody's shit has been in my house for a week. And girl, you know I got your information. It ain’t nothing but a thang.  Your ticket is ready and waiting. Just sent it to your email.”

Your mouth dropped open and you stared at Craig as everyone pulled their onesies back up and got their bags together.

Your eyes filled with tears that you hurriedly brushed away. Craig came over and hugged you. Then every else joined in for a group hug.

"You deserve, Lindy. Let us celebrate you."

You looked like you didn't quite believe it, but you went along. You laughed, visibly deciding to go with the flow.

"I'm down!"

Toni was nearby. When the hug broke up, she started asking questions.  Your  patience was wearing thin.

"I don’t believe that all these people really roll like this. Y’all wild. Susie won that bet."

You just continued to look at this fool.

"But isn’t this dope?  All these famous, successful men being so fearless with their love and appreciation for Black women, of all people. Who woulda thunk they didn't want white women?"

Toni just kept saying the wrong thing. It was the "of all people" for you.

You stared daggers at your houseguest. Toni caught the look.

"Wait, are you mixed?"

You narrowed your eyes and said, "Black mixed with Black."

Toni clutched her pearls.

"Oh wow. Didn't mean to offend. I just mean everyone knows Jasmine is mixed, with her dad and all, as black as can be. But her white British mom saved her from his skin tone. I mean, she has braids in now, so you can see it, but all she has to do is blow her hair straight and she can pass..."

Toni jumped when Rafa spoke. She didn't know he was there.

"Toni. Not Jas. She's the homie." 

The look in his ice blue eyes could burn. 

"And you are a Black woman, so you know how dope they are. Why would anyone NOT worship at your feet?"

Lindy just sipped her drink as Craig entered the chat. "Amen!"

"Maybe it is time for you to get going, honey. I might call you when I get back."

Rafa  led Toni to the door as she protested.

"But I was going to take you to the air..."

"And I APPRECIATE you Black woman, but we'll get there.  See you later."

Then Rafa shut the door in her face. Linden discovered she loved him eternally at that moment. She was rolling.

No one mourned Toni’s departure as arrangements were made for cars to take everyone to the airport.

"You and Daveed can ride with us, Rafa." Ant to the rescue.

"Yeah, Jasmine loves to look at my profile." Jas pinched him so hard he jumped.

“Fuck!”

Ant  was screaming as he, Jasmine and Rafa went out the door. 

"Peace! See you at airport security.  If you get nabbed by TSA, you on your own!”

Daveed lingered. “I don’t know if all of us and our bags will fit in one car. Can I ride with you and Lindy, Craig?”

Craig smirked at Daveed, but didn’t say anything. “Of course...you good with that Lindy?”

You tried to keep it light. 

“Sure.. no biggie,” you cleared your throat and headed to the bathroom to make sure you had everything you needed.

=================

By the time you got to your Uber, the traffic was horrible. It took over an hour to get to the airport. You felt both anxious about missing the flight and keyed up about sitting next to Daveed in the car.

His thigh and side pressing into yours in the dark in the back of an Uber Black brought back memories of that reckless night. 

When he put his arm up on the seat behind you, “For more room,” he said, in that voice and flashing that megawatt smile, you were enveloped more into his scent and warmth. You had to control yourself not to melt into him.

Craig was sitting on his phone, sneaking glances at you and smirking the entire ride. He’d insisted that you be in the middle because you were so tiny.

The whole world was against you, you thought, as you and Daveed both stared straight ahead, both flashing back to that January night.

You were the last three people to run through the airline gate just at they were about to close it. All your friends in first class cheered when you took their seats, and Rafa popped a bottle of champagne.

"Talk about cutting it close," Ant commented as Rafa gave Daveed a high five.

Daveed looked at you. You shook your head at him. Somehow, you were sitting next to him. You just decided to let it be and have some time.

“Just make sure you don’t molest me under this blanket, Ms. Marshall,” Daveed intoned when you were settled and given amenities for the night.

The flight attendant had to tell y’all to keep quiet as the cat calls went up.

Welp, you thought. This will be the vibe the entire weekend. 

You weren’t mad at it. You loved these people. And you were safe. You just smiled, settled down, and looked out of the window to watch the lights of New York fade away.

=================

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[youreacowgirllikeme]

Objection

Note: I’m a sucker for AUs, so here is a Lawyer!Chris fic nobody asked for, the plot (or whatever) is veery loosely inspired by this book I’m reading atm (The Hating Game) and by the the fact that Chris talking about lawyer stuff is incredibly hot to me

Warning: swearing (a lot), smut, Chris bashing (for the story line, pls don’t take this seriously, I adore this man to death), NSFW, slight exhibitionism

Plus another warning, I am not a lawyer or trained in any other legal profession, so if there are inaccuracies in the way I used certain terms I am sorry

„Objection, your honor, this is hearsay!” you shouted, shooting a furious glance over to the defense table, and to the absolute menace standing in front of it.

Chris Cuomo. The most obnoxious, arrogant, loud-mouthed asshole you ever had the misfortune to meet in court. He was a senior partner at one of New York’s most prestigious law firms, specialized on getting their wealthy clients out of everything from tax fraud to outright corruption.

This man stood for everything that, in your opinion, was wrong with the justice system and this country in general. Everything about him screamed elitist, boarding school, frat boy, preppy rich guy that had everything handed to him on a silver platter. He flaunted his famous last name around whenever he had the chance and it got him right to the top of the business.

You, on the opposite, went to law school on a scholarship, worked your ass of and now practiced law working for the district attorney to prosecute and convict the very people Cuomo tried to kept out of jail to afford the ridiculous Upper East Side Penthouse he probably had. You tried to push the fact that he was one of the most brilliant lawyers you knew aside, because you just hated him. No respect, no admiration for his legal genius, he was the bane of your existence fair and square.

You clashed heads in court more than once, and by now he knew exactly how to rile you up, smug bastard. His current client was accused of tax and investment fraud of incredible extent, and there he was, trying to discredit your main witness in front of the jury with some ridiculous accusations about them having a personal vendetta against the defendant. You saw your case crumbling in front of you as the witness got tangled up in Cuomo’s relentless questioning, stumbling over their own words, their credibility shrinking with each minute.

He did what he did best, lulling in people with his charm and striking when they least expected it. And he always did it with his disgusting smile on his disgustingly handsome face. Yes, of course he had to be a hot, fit, well-built asshole, making your professional life miserable at every chance he got.

Sometimes, he even had the audacity to wink at you. In court. During a trial. You wanted to punch him in his perfect face more than anything else.

The judge disrupted your thoughts.

“Dismissed, Ms. Y/L/N, and mind your tone in my courtroom. And Mr. Cuomo, please keep your questions professional or this interrogation will be over.” The judge said, shooting the both of you a warning glance.

“No more questions anyway, your honor, I think the jury heard it all.” Cuomo said, and almost strutted back to the defense table. And with a look over to the jury, you knew he was probably right. They eyed your witness suspiciously, and you almost wanted to stomp down out of pure rage. The fucker just destroyed your chance for a swift conviction right in front of your eyes. You needed more time to gather new evidence, or this would be over.

“Your honor, the prosecution is asking the court for adjournment.” You said, trying your best to not let your frustration show.

“Granted, the trial will be continued tomorrow. Court is dismissed.”

You put the case files into your bag and practically stormed out of the court room, passing the defense table without as much as a sideward glance.

But he caught up with you in the parking deck of the building.

“You’re aware you can’t win this one, right, Y/L/N? It’s all circumstantial, even you should see that.” His smug voice suddenly said from behind you as you were just about to get into your car.

You whirled around, pulse hammering in your chest out of pure anger.

“This is unprofessional even by your standards, Cuomo, I’m not discussing this case with you in a parking lot. Now why don’t you get into this environmental nightmare you call a car and leave me the hell alone.” You hissed, pointing over to where his obnoxiously big SUV was standing.

“Don’t talk to me like that, Y/L/N, just because you can’t handle yourself in court.” He said, smirk still firmly in place. His hands were playing with the car keys, and you were mesmerized for a second by how large his hands were. They looked like shovels.

“Whatever you’re plotting in that weird little brain of yours, stop staring at me.” Cuomo said, actually sounding a bit unsettled. You snapped out of it and went right back into anger mode.

“Staring at you? God, you’re so fucking full of yourself, aren’t you, you condescending prick? Not everything revolves around you and your spoiled ass, Cuomo.”

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, girl?” he snapped, raising his voice now. You clearly got to him, and seeing a crack in his arrogant façade gave you a satisfying sense of triumph. You couldn’t stop now, even if his angry face was screaming danger.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, your highness, are you used to people worshipping the ground you walk on because you had the dumb luck to be born with the Cuomo name? Fun fact, nobody cares, you’re still an asshole, just with a fancy suit.” You really threw all caution away, and one look at Cuomo told you that you’ve definitely gone too far.

Because he was livid. There was a vein on his temple that was literally pulsating, his hands were balled to fists at his side and his blue eyes were so full of fury that you were scared to look directly at him.

He took two giant steps in your direction, backing you up against your car. You were caught, Cuomo’s giant frame in front of you with no way to escape his wrath.

You looked up at him, daring to meet his eyes directly. He looked at you like he was about to kill you. You tried to recall your fury from some seconds ago, but the heat radiating from his body and the way his huge arms had you trapped on both sides of your head were making it impossible for you to focus. Damn him for being so attractive. You wanted to fight him, but you also wanted to press yourself against his body and feel what was underneath that suit.

“You presumptuous little…” he spat, stopping himself before saying something truly insulting. He took a deep breath, and looked at you again. And then he saw it.

The way you were biting your lip, the way your pupils were dilated.

And he smiled, a cruel smirk that send shivers down your spine. He brought his face even closer to yours and dropped his voice.

“You know, I got really good at reading people, comes with the job, I guess. But you are making it so easy for me, Y/L/N, look at you?” His mouth was at your ear now, his hot breath tickling your neck.

“Do you really want me to leave you alone? Doesn’t seem like it to me.”

You could barely think straight anymore, you wanted to tell him to fuck off, but it just came out as an embarrassing, needy whimper.

He chuckled darkly, and goosebumps broke out all over your body. Why did this man, that you hated more than almost anyone else, reduce to a state of arousal you had never experienced before just by whispering in your ear? Your panties were already soaked, and he didn’t even touch you. With your last few functioning brain cells, you cursed your needy, weak body, before you tiled your head to the side, baring your neck to Chris mouth.

He breathed over your skin, teasing you without actually touching. You felt like you were going insane.

“Please.” You whispered.

“What? Use your words, darling.”

“Kiss my neck, touch me, anything, just do it, asshole.” You hissed, glad you were able to form a coherent sentence.

“So impolite.” He chuckled and pressed a kiss to the side of your neck before starting to suck lightly. You moaned softly and pressed your pelvis into his. You could feel his hardness through his slacks, his unaffected behavior was clearly an act, he was just as aroused as you were.

One of his hands went down to squeeze your ass hard, bringing another surge of wetness to your panties.

Seeing him getting into this gave you some of your courage back, and you started to grind against him, making him growl against your neck.

“Is that everything you got, Cuomo.” You asked, trying to rile him up a bit. You really enjoyed the way he was manhandling you, as much as it pained you to admit it. But his hands were wandering under your skirt now, so you might as well just go with it.

Your provocative behavior clearly had the desired effect on him, because he grabbed your waist in a bruising grip, spun you around and pinned you against your car, his erection pressing against your ass. He yanked up your skirt and tore off your panties, leaving your lower body completely bare.

By now, you were glad that you picked the parking spot on the top floor, because your two cars were the only ones left and no one would come up here at this hour to catch you, about to be railed against your vehicle by Chris Cuomo.

“My, my, Y/L/N, this really turns you on, doesn’t it?” You could hear his breathy voice from behind you, and then felt a thick finger slowly being pressed into your aching pussy, followed by a sharp intake of breath. “Fuck, you already are so wet for me.” Chris growled.

“Are you going to fuck me soon, or do I have to take care of it myself?” You asked, teasingly.

He swore under his breath and gave your ass a sharp slap, making you welp.

You heard the sound of his zipper, and the rustle of foil.

“You really brought a condom to court, Cuomo? Wow, you are even more shameless than I imagined.”

“Shut up.” He growled, and you did, because he lined up his cock and slowly started pressing into you. He was big, and you had to bury your face into your arm to muffle the obscene sounds coming out of your mouth at the feeling of being stretched like this. He bottomed out with a low moan, and immediately started a fast, hard pace, pushing you against your car with every move of his hips.

You turned your head around to look at him. His face was flushed, and his eyes were fixed on the sight of his cock sliding in and out of you.

The friction was delicious, and he was hitting a perfect spot deep inside you with every thrust. Your moans became louder and louder, and he pressed one of his large hands over your mouth.

“Be quiet, you don’t want someone to catch little Miss Righteous being screwed in the parking lot by big, bad Cuomo, don’t you?” he whispered in your ear between husky breaths, and you could only cry out against his palm as he was speeding up his thrusts. The idea of someone catching you here was as arousing as it was terrifying.

Suddenly, Chris other hand sneaked around you to press on your clit, hard, and you screamed into his hand as your orgasm hit you like a punch to the gut, your walls gripping his cock like a vice while he was still fucking you through your climax.

“That’s it, darling, come for me. Fuck.” He groaned, before suddenly going tense as he reached his peak as well, cock buried deep inside you.

You slumped against your car with a huff, and the brief glimpse you caught of your reflection in the window made you question what you just did even more. Not only did you have (amazing, mind-blowing) sex with the opposing lawyer, he also absolutely wrecked you, you looked like you just had the roughest night ever with your hair undone, your makeup smudged and your panties in shreds on the floor of the parking lot. You hastily pulled down your skit again and tried to fix your hair as much as possible to get a minimum of decorum back.

Chris was just disposing the condom into a nearby bin, already looking calm and composed again. You hated him for that, and for the broad, self-satisfied grin that was all over his face again. And still, your heart gave a little flip as he approached you.

“That was fun.” He smirked, “We should definitely do that again. But not today, I’m busy. See you in court.”

He started to make his way to his car, and there was definitely a spring in his step.

“In your dreams, Cuomo.” You mumbled after him but couldn’t suppress a smile. That was, until you looked into the side mirror of your car to check your makeup and saw the giant, purple bruise on the side of your neck.

“Cuomo!” you screamed. “Come back here right now, you imbecile, you gave me a fucking hickey!”

“Better wear a scarf then tomorrow!” he called, entering his car. “And don’t make plans for after the trial, I’m taking you to dinner to celebrate my victory. And I mean that.”

And with that, he drove off. And as much as you hated yourself to admit it, you were really looking forward to having dinner with this idiot. After you destroyed him in court, of course.

[spiltscribbles]

Oooh! Prompts! Remus and Sirius moving in together please! 💛

Notes: Thank you SO SO much gorgeous<3 I’m like kinda embarrassed that this is kinda shit, especially because you’re writing is so fucking gorgeous, so I’m sorry.

.-

A Reblog Is Worth A Thousand Stars  |  Send Me A Prompt 

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“YOU!”

With a start that almost makes him drop the vase in his hands, Sirius turns around to find his surly looking  boyfriend glaring daggers straight at him, lips pursed and nose wrinkled ever so fetchingly. “Me?”

“You!”

“ Is this a Muggle game of semantics or something Moons, because for the life of me I’m not following.”

Remus’s glower only deepens, radiating a distinct sort of disapproval that could only ever be  honed in by years of prefectness. “You thief!” He squawks, hands perched on his hips, and mouth twisted up mutinously.

“Is this the part where you say I stole your heart?” Sirius goads with a cocked brow, resuming their unpacking.  “Because love, that line gets old after the millionth recital, but I do appreciate the spirit.”

“Wha? Na—no that is not what I was going to say you egotistical prick!” Remus scoffs— just a bit flustered with a dusting of pink touching the tops of his sharp cheekbones. “You ate the last spring role!” He accuses emphatically, almost tripping over the over a dozen boxes that are strewn across their newly furnished living room. Sirius can’t help but be endeared by Remus and his everythingness. 

“Yes, yes I did Wise Guy,” He confirms distractedly. “I also dipped it into some spicy mustard and drank a bottle of water while I was at it… Your point being?”

“My point you utter berk is that it was mine! I called dibs!”

“I remember no such thing,” Sirius sniffs haughtily, moving to rearrange the photographs  on their mantel. (And yeah, it’s still fucking insane to him that he’s become so domestic that he’s got a mantel over the fireplace that the man he loves more than any other had insisted was absolutely crucial to have if they were to move in together—probably for really romantical love making sessions in front  of it’s flames with the bliss of  no worries of anyone barging in on them, or griping  if they were being to loud—Which by the way, James honestly  had no right in complaining about considering his track record with his and Lily’s on again, off again mating ritual.

“Liar!" Sirius honestly  wouldn’t be surprised if Remus started stomping his feet right about now, and pouting up a storm if the childishly  cross expression    on his pretty face is anything to go by. (And honestly how could one man be so adorable and sexy all at once.)  “You were finishing up the shrimp tempura— because you are a posh idiot without any tastebuds— , and I said that I’ll be right back to get some of the boxes in the spare room, and to save it for me! And then I come here, and I find this! This breach of all we’ve built together!”

Sirius barely conceals his snort. “Is that right? The foundations of our whole, entire bloody relationship? And right after this afternoon, when I made you—“

Two spots of color blotch high on Remus��s cheeks and he cuts him off before Sirius can completely recount the frankly remarkable romp they had just finished with before deciding they needed some nourishment before getting back to unpacking. “Don’t you try to change the subject you stealing stealer who steals!”

“That insult leaves something to be desired Moonbeam.”

“You’re a prick.”

“And you wound me!” Sirius mock sobs, slamming his fist against his chest and swinging back his arm against his forehead. “A plague on you, and your family! And another on your family’s cow.”

Remus’s face morphs into his painfully unimpressed expression, (Hint, it’s very, very flat). “I’ll take your intentional dodge as an admission,” He scoffs, arms crossed tight against his chest.

“I admit nothing!” Sirius shouts in an overdone accent that would better fit the set of Downton Abbey. “Nothing Lupin!”

Remus rolls his eyes at Sirius’s hyperbolic attitude, and okay. Yes. Perhaps Sirius remembers a similar conversation akin to what Remus had described  occurring only ten minutes prior. But to be quite honest, Sirius was hardly listening. Remus’s got on one of Sirius’s oversized t-shirts, a pair of boxer-briefs,  and nothing else. So yeah, he should definitely not be expected to be paying anything any mind while his beyond gorgeous boyfriend is sitting there, impossibly long legs put out for display, and one perfectly alabaster   shoulder bare where the shirt has slipped right off, effectively derailing  Sirius's thoughts to how he’d teasingly kissed across his collar bone just earlier that night, nibbling on the hinge of his jaw while Remus had been  writhing beneath him. so   Really and truly, he should’ve never been expected to remember anything— let alone something as trivial as dibs—  if his utterly perfect partner is right there for the taking, a determined dent between his brows, and intermittently rinsing his hand through his disheveled locks of hair like  spun gold, excited  over the prospect of fixing up this flat that is now their home.

Dear Merlin above   does Sirius love this bloke with every fiber of his being.

“Well,” he relents, swaggering up closer to Remus so that they’re standing only inches apart.  “Even if I did remember that such a discussion had taken place how you’ve described it—“

“It did, and you know it Black!” He harrumphs, using Sirius’s  surname just to get a rise out of him.

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now love, is There?.”

Sirius’s sure that he’s won the argument and they could just move on, until he catches the glint in Remus’s impossibly luminous eyes—a glint that always means trouble, a glint that’s never failed to make each one of Sirius’s nerve endings go ablaze.

“Is that right?”

“I reckon it is Moonbeam,” he leers, is momentarily distracted by the downright angelic smile Remus casts his way right then, but suddenly, an onslaught of fingers are piercing into his ribs, wiggling and tickling him into submission.

“Say you’re sorry!” Remus demands, an effortless grin of his own swept across his lovely face, brighter than the morning sun. And yeah, maybe Sirius should just admit that it was his bad, apologize a thousand times over in the form of lingering kisses and caressing hands.… But the thing is, Sirius’s  stubbornness  has always been too rigid for his own good, and he’s always loved prodding at Remus till He just went off like the world’s most darling firecrackers.

“Never you absolute wanker!”

“I won’t relent till you profess an apology to my satisfaction,” Remus scoffs— a playful giggle lilting his overly formal words.

“And I won’t surrender!” He parries with a leer. Sirius tickles back  harder, and Remus  shimmies around so much that He ends up jabbing him in the eye,  ramming straight into his chest, and  effectively sprawling them—all long limbs and crooked angles—onto the wooden floorboards.

“Just say you’re sorry!” He insists, strangled laughter starting to gargle his words while Sirius just gazes down at him, mercilessly besotted.

“”S not my fault you didn’t take it with you Lupin, i’ve committed no grievance.”

“Oh come off it pretty boy.”

“Oy! I’m ruggedly handsome you arse!”

“Testy, testy.”

 “You’re the pretty one.”

“Oh suck my cock.”

“Been there done that.”

Remus seems to be fighting down another laugh before he knees him lightly in the abdomen enough that Sirius tenses, giving Remus the chance to  switch their positions once again, so that  He’s back  on top. 

“My have the tables turned,” He taunts with one of his most dazzling smiles, dimples in full effect, and crinkles around his pretty sea glass eyes.

“I like how you think I’m at all opposed to this position,” Sirius says with a pixilated gleam, arching back enough so that their cotton clad dicks buck up against each other.

“Perv!” Remus scolds, smacking his chest playfully. “Now admit that I won!”

“Never!”

 Somehow, amidst all the thrashing bodies and choked peals of laughter, Sirius flips him over— slight body beneath his own, with Remus’s wrists pinned over his head and his legs wrapped around Sirius’s waste.

“Now, now Monsieur Moony, I reckon that spring has rolled into winter for you,” Sirius most definitely does not laugh raucously    at his own pun.

“That’s not even the direction that the seasons go in,” Remus frowns, nose wrinkled indelicately, a tell Sirius’s picked up on whenever He’s mad over an outcome.

“You still lost though,” Sirius barbs with no real bite, pecking a quick kiss to his lips in solace.

“You’re awful, and I’m breaking up with you,” Remus sniffs in turn—wiggling underneath him to try and get loose.

“Oh, you love me really.” Sirius preens like the cat who’s caught the canary— the world’s most beautiful and brilliant and ruffled canary that is.

“Lies and slander!” Remus waggles his tongue between his teeth, and Sirius dips down to bite it teasingly. 

“Hmm, now isn’t this cute,” the pair scramble away from each other, utterly stunned once spotting Lily of all people, gaze twinkling and lips set into a firm smirk, eyeing them while leisurely lounging against the door frame. 

“You two really can’t keep yr sodding hands off of each other, can you?”

Remus completely reddens, totally flustered, while Sirius only follies back a smug sort of grin at the force of nature  that is Lily Evans, his practical sister-in-law, remus’s best friend, and all around genius.

“How long have you been watching Red dearest,” Sirius asks wryly, making it so now Lily’s the one who’s flushing..

“I hate you Black.” She says shortly, and Sirius’s beam doesn’t falter. “Re, as your spiritual older sister—“

“You’re barely a month older Lils,” Remus interjects, but Lily just goes on as if he hadn’t.

 “I think it’s my job to remind you that he’s not the only bloke in London with a decent shoulder to waste ratio and nice hair. We can snag you someone with a bit of brains even.”

Sirius tosses her a V shaped salute, and Lily sticks her tongue out in retaliation,  but for his part, Remus only tries to cut through the tension with one of his friendlier grins, though it just comes out as an awkward grimace. “I forgot that you’re dropping off the boxes tonight.”

“Evidently Ace,” she snorts, strutting further into the apartment and setting down the box of photos Remus had asked her to bring over from their old place. “Far too busy snogging with the boy who single handedly received the most detentions in Hogwarts history, while also, somehow— by the grace of God— threatened our stances as top of the class.”

“Oy Evans, can’t take all the credit for myself. Jem was my better half, till he moved on to the likes of you.”

Lily ignores him, save for the way her pretty face gets a bit scrunched out of irritation. “Ace, I ask you, what would McGonagall say if she saw her favorite prefect gallivanting around with such a delinquent.

Remus lets out one of his rare and beautiful laughs, something that feels buoyant and is really more breath than sound, but is still so vibrant and splendid and it never fails to thrust Sirius back to the Hogwarts Express, where he and Remus had first met as a couple of wide eyed eleven year olds, and all the contradicting emotions Remus had provoked upon first sight. Wonder, and confusion. Intrigue, and diffidence. Wanting, and fear. It’s an attribute of Remus's that Sirius will never not be amazed by.

“Ah, Minnie my love, how I do miss her so, now where were we Moonbeam?”

“I’m still standing here Black,” Lily reproves with a scoff.

“I think it was about here,” Sirius continues, dipping down to kiss at Remus’s protruding  collar bones.

“Settle down mutt,” Remus rebukes with no real heat, a gentle hand carding through Sirius’s hair.

“God, you two are already an old married couple.”

“You really do know the best moments to interrupt sweetheart.” Sirius snipes with a playful roll to his eyes, his hand discretely resting over the small of Remus’s back.

“And you have no decency, corrupting   Remus the way that you do.”

“Okay first, I take fucking offense, you know better than me that Moony here was the mastermind behind most of our delightful pranks.”

“You mean your childish inconveniences you plagued on the unsuspecting public?”

“And secondly, we didn’t even get to the fun, currupting   part because of your oh so lovely interruption.” Sirius retorts moodily, though he soon suspects the joke was a wrong play to make  when Lily’s smile suddenly goes predatory and sHe flips back a lock of her wind blown curls, ready to pounce. 

“Well perhaps I just stopped by to make sure you weren’t further defiling   my dear Remus. But I guess that giant love bite on your neck proves that I’m too late.”

Sirius can’t help the chuckle that pours out of his lips at her needled observation, smacking a hand to conceal the hickey sHe’s taunting him about, knowing exactly where it is, it’s been a topic of teasing all morning long from a smug Sirius to a properly indignant Remus.

“He-he just marks easily,” Remus pipes out, cheeks completely infused red and worrying on his bottom lip. Sirius suspects that Lily just knew that the one chink in his armor is prodding at Remus’s less than poised acts. 

Lily rolls her eyes in a way that convinces Sirius that sHe doesn’t believe it for a second. “Whatever you say oh Saint Remus,” sHe smirks with no more argument. “but pray tell, are you guys about done swapping spit around me? Or is that going to forever be a regular occurrence in the Remus and Sirius show?”

“Now I’d reckon that’ll get a sold out crowd every night, don’t you?” Sirius asks, directing his question at the pair of  of them while taking Remus’s hand, and pushing him even closer— just always preferring to have some sort of contact with him.

“Oh put a sock in it,” Remus harrumphs, finally starting to return to his normal coloring in the midst of Lily’s unrestrained cackles.

“Aw, don’t be shy love, it’s only the truth.”

Remus presses the pads of his fingers to Sirius’s lips and glares at him for good measure, “Some things are better left for private.”

“Hah,” Lily scoffs, weight slung to her left hip. “As if I don’t get a front row seat every time  you two are within even in a ten foot radius of each other—OH hey, I know that look Ace! The one eyed squint, and the teeth. Well your “I’m about to kill my gorgeous best friend,” look has no place here, i’ll see my way out now. Just promise not to christen every room in this place, kay? We’d all like to visit without the residual specs haunting us! And I know how moody you get without your daily dose of my scintillating company.”

Sirius thinks that Remus’s trying to skewer a whole in the spot where Lily was just standing, if the terribly cross look on his face says anything. It’s precious, Sirius can’t help but snicker.

“Don’t laugh at me! I’m your boyfriend for Merlin’s sake! You’re s’pose to be on my side!”

“I wasn’t laughing at you Moons,” he kisses the fingers Remus has still got on his mouth, mock consolatory.  “Just incredibly turned on.”

That dent between Remus’s brows is back again for a moment, but then his beauteous features smoothen out and He just pecks a quick kiss to Sirius’s lips before rifling through the box Lily brought over, muttering a light,”Whatever,” as He does so.

There’s a quick wrapping to the window, and Sirius glances over to find his owl— Odysseus— with a bundle of letters attached to his left leg. By rote, Sirius feeds him some of the pellets they keep  there for convenience, and unwinds the bundle of parchments, beginning to shuffle through them.

There’s a copy of the Nightly prophet with the murder of another Muggle family splattered all over the front cover in a sickeningly gauche manner, a free trial subscription to the Quibbler with a reading for Scorpios in the month of October, a letter from Peter about his mum and sisters driving him up the rails, an invitation from Marlene for he and Remus to come out to dinner with them for Dorcas’s Birthday, and a ominous letter from James of all paper that simply says a gift for Moony.

Bewildered to why he hadn’t just sent it along with Lily, Sirius tares off the attached photograph only to find something truly, horrendously vile. a photograph of himself. One that was definitely taken fifth year— Sirius’s worst year where he absolutely could not stand being around his family for a moment longer, and James was getting more settled with his studies, an Remus was dating that prefect prick from Ravenclaw and was exceedingly elusive from Marauders nights out.  This was so obviously taken on one of those aforementioned nights out that it’s comical.  Sirius’s hair is as long as it’s ever been— touching the tops of his shoulders— and he’s chugging down a fruity, pink concoction— the type  that Rosmerta was always cooking up for them— hand over fist, and he’s got on puppy ears and a fake nose. In layman’s terms he looks like a complete and total pillock. Drunk off his ass so much so that you can see the stars in his eyes even through the clunky glasses he had stolen from James— convinced that he was sporting them for purely esthetic reasons and not because the knob is actually as blind as a bloody bat— and his finger is pointed and mouth is open in the way it always is when he’s ranting about something or the other.

It’s perhaps the only photograph in history where Sirius isn’t looking his typical, jaw dropping gorgeous self.

There’s about a thousand different retorts he wants to scribble on a spare parchment and  shoot right back to James— ranging from nasty to downright despicable— but then he catches the familiar peal of laughter coming from behind him. He’s not surprised when he sees Remus—beautiful, ingenuous, perfect Remus who’s physically incapable of taking a photograph less than effortlessly lovely, even while pissed— peering over his shoulder in utter amusement.

“Oh My God I need to ask James to send me one of the hundreds of copies he surely has.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Sirius retorts darkly.

“I’ll use an enlarging charm and hang it up above the mantel, for prosperity. The one time Sirius looks the way he acts,” he moves his hand over an invisible marquee and looks so damn smug that Sirius could kiss him, and in fact, that’s exactly what he does.

“I hate him,” is all he says afterwards, once he’s pulled away.

“I can’t believe that’s you!” Remus continues with eyes full of mirth.

“I want to banish him, no. No I want to banish all of them. All of our friends, we can make knew ones Moons. I mean look at us! We’re a catch!” He tosses the letters onto the newly acquired sofa as if they have personally affronted  him and all he stands for.

“ Oh brilliant idea love.”

“That sounds like your sarcastic voice Moons.”

“No, you’ve got my full support. this’s our castle Pads, we can banish whom ever we like,” Remus balances on his tiptoes,  and smacks an exasperated kiss onto his cheek. Sirius can barely contain the glee that’s dancing in his eyes at the thought of this being their own personal castle— a fortress just for the pair of them to escape within—  causing another swell of fondness to pound in his chest.

“Well maybe we can give’m another chance,” he relents, melting into how Remus’s locked his arms around his neck, and is smiling up at him with all the love in the world shining unadulteratedly in his lovely eyes. “I mean they did help us move all those boxes and all.”

Remus hums his agreement while he presses his forehead against his own, endlessly endeared.

“What a generous king,” He goads, words hugged with fondness. 

“Ooo, I like that, call me that in bed and I might bless you with my royal sector.”

Remus thumps his nose, “Your more tolerable when you don’t speak and just stand there being pretty.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty Moonykins?”

Remus shakes his head ruefully, the smile on his face one that Sirius knows well— one that means he’s reluctantly endeared. “Dork.”

“Plonker.”

There lips meet for another kiss and it feels like all the resplendence in the galaxy being distilled between just the two of them.

[auswriteforyou]

Undeserving. (Ethan Choi, Chicago Med)

It was burned into her brain. Medically speaking, she knew that was impossible. She knew memories were less medical and more mental. Maybe she should schedule an appointment with Dr. Charles. Maybe he could get the memory of her husband having sex with April in an exam room on the 4th floor while she was doing life-saving surgery down the hall out of her head.

She understood the location choice. It was rarely used, the only time they made it up there was when no other bay was available. She had left the room feeling incredible. It was a difficult situation, one that required far too much attention and far too little preparation was given but it had come out with the best possible outcome. She wanted to find Ethan immediately, tell him what she’d accomplished and about the patient she’d grown close to in this process. She didn’t expect to find him in the exam room she heard a crash come from.

She had figured it was just a patient having wondered from their room but no. It was such a nightmare that she had no reaction to it at all. The scramble of them untangling, the sound of scrubs being pulled on and apologies falling on empty ears.

She filed the divorce papers the next day. She put in her transfer request that afternoon. He refused to sign them. Imagine that. He was unfaithful for months, treated her like a stranger for months, literally had sex with her best friend and now he won’t sign the damn paperwork. And here she was, almost a year later of talking only through an attorney from her very expensive law firm in New York because she didn’t even want to hear his voice.

But she was tired of wasting money and her efforts on getting someone as stubborn as him to do anything without getting what he wanted first. She pulled on her big girl pants this morning and decided that today was a good day for a whole lot of baggage. She boarded her plane, she landed, she came straight to the hospital and she was Pissed. The week long vacation she had been planning to Bermuda had been interrupted for this.

“No way.” Will Halstead greeted her at the door, eyes bright and smile shiny. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“Do I look that bad?” She smiled, knowing damn well she looked like a four course meal. She’d used this year to become someone she was proud to recognize, to grow the pain and assert herself in ways she never dreamed she would. She was a chairwoman on more boards than she could count. Lead cardiologist in the most sought after position in the most sought after hospital in the world. She knew who she was, she was sure of it.

“Honestly, you’re smoking hot.” He knew how to make a girl feel special. “Do I wanna know why you’re here? You looked like you were about to walk through the walls.”

She held up the file folder, a grimace on her face and he didn’t need any more context clues. They’d all heard the stories, how the papers got served to him in the middle of a surgery and the refusal to sign or send them back on his part. It was annoying honestly.

“Help a girl out, where might I find him?”

“Surgery Room 1.” Oh, good. He wouldn’t be able to run away.

The gallery was almost full, apparently a good surgery in their books. Thankfully, she’d timed it just right that they were beginning to close. She greeted her old coworkers, offering quick hellos and we’ll catch ups because she was always a business first kind of lady.

Ethan stepped more into view and that flutter she remembered from the first time they met flew into her chest. Had he managed to get more attractive? Her finger pressed the intercom. She cleared her throat.

“Ethan, if you don’t sign these papers you’re going to be the one who needs to be sewn up.” His head snapped at the speed of light to her in the gallery. She could tell it took him a minute to recognize her, or to make sure she was actually there. Could have been a mixture of both.

“Darling?” She rolled her eyes, waving the papers at him.

“Meet me at my car when you’re done. Bring a pen.”

He did not, in fact, bring a pen. He barely found her because he wasn’t expecting the Lamborghini rental car. He climbed into the passenger seat, eyes  never leaving her face. It was kind of creepy.

“How have you been?” She snorted.

“A year of putting me through the political ringer and that’s what you start with?” She tossed the papers in his lap, trying not to let him see the hurt she still had lingering in her eyes. “Sign these. Please.”

“Talk to me.” He was quick to rebuttal. “Please. Let’s just have one conversation. I’ve spoken to no one but your lawyer for months.”

“Exactly Ethan,” He cringed at the lack of nickname, “I didn’t think I had to spell it out how much I didn’t want to talk with you.”

“Please.” He knew he had no right to ask her for anything but she was here on a mission. She wasn’t leaving without a resolution. “How have you been?”

“I’m head of Cardiology in New York, I have a dog, I bought a new car and recently found out I am allergic to fish. How’s April?” That was a low blow. She knew it, he knew it but she traveled far too many miles to not get her little jabs in.

“She moved away, I don’t know where she is. I haven’t seen her since that day.” At least he was honest. She used to pride herself on being able to tell when he was lying but after all that, she didn’t know what she knew.

“Awesome, glad to know it was all for nothing. Now that we’re all caught up, sign them.”

“No.”

“Ethan, the next option is to have it annulled by the court in which they give me half of everything you have.”

“You were the only thing I had that ever mattered.” She felt her mouth drop open, felt like he had slapped her in the face.

“You’re kidding right? That’s how you treat the most important thing in your life then? I’d hate to be the things you hate. Honestly, fuck that.”

“I fucked up, I take full responsibility. I won’t gaslight, I won’t say you did anything wrong because you didn’t. I was weak, I was the one who sought out something new because I was afraid of my own insecurities as a man, as a husband. I thought I would never be good enough for you and I set out to prove it. It’s not that you made me feel that way or made me feel like I should be more, I just convinced myself I wasn’t.”

It was silent for a long moment, the damage between them beginning to sew itself back up because, for once, he was opening up to her.

“I fought tooth and nail for us, from dating to engagement to marriage. I fought for you when your brain fought against you. I fought for you when you couldn’t fight for yourself. And at the first sign of me healing myself, of me choosing myself for once, you ran off with my best friend because you both felt insecure about things out of anyone’s control.”

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right. That’s the worst part. It’s the worst part because I took all the respect, all the trust, love, compassion you gave me and stomped on it. I treated you with such disregard and disrespect that it makes me sick and darling,” She looked at him for the first time since they decided to open up, “I am truly sorry.”

She stared at him for a long moment, the anger from earlier finding a lighter lull in her chest as she searched for any sign of a lie. She’d reinvented herself, made herself stronger through becoming who she had always wanted to be. He had reinvented himself by realizing where his mistakes were and how to better himself to be who he wanted, needed to be. She wondered for a moment if he was coming to the same realization as her. They weren’t the same people they had been. They had grown, sprouted leaves and vines and built themselves up from the roots.

“I forgive you.” Out of all the things to come out of her mouth, neither of them expected that.

“What does that mean?” His voice was almost a whisper, his fingers that had saved many lives toying with the edges of the file folder.

“It means we talk,” She took the folder from him, tossing it into the backseat without care. “And we figure out what this means, we don’t lie to each other and we try. Both of us this time. I can’t float this relationship, whatever it is or is not, we have to be on the same page.”

He looked at her like she’d put the stars in the sky, sewn him up with the tidal waves and took them to the moon. She wondered if he’d keep looking at her like that. It didn’t scare her to think that he would. They didn’t kiss, they didn’t jump into each others arms and scream at the top of their lungs about love and happiness. They let their pinkies brush over the console, their hearts and minds race at the thought of whats to be built and allowed themselves to begin to grow, with each other.

--

it’s been a hot minute but my fingers started tapping and that was that! This was a request from an Anon that I was happy to fill. I hope you enjoy, I apologize for the wait. It’s also been a LOOOOOOng time since watching the show, I don’t have any plot lines. I don’t even know who is still on it, hopefully I was vague enough to not deviate too far off script. (also I didn’t get to proofread this, I'm sorry). Thank you for requesting and happy new year!

[tsuumu]

hq boys and their part time jobs.

yet another unseries headcanon post made by yours truly! unlike my last one which you can find here, i won’t be involving every single major hq character so that’s just a heads up!! i can’t always envision stuff fully with every single person...

kageyama tobio: this boy thought that applying to work part-time at a sports shop would be fitting ‘cause of his love for volleyball, completely unaware that this would involve way too much social interaction and tolerance???? like he thought he’d just have to look like someone who does sports and occasionally restock yoga mats but these loud ass kids are coming up to him asking for this that and the other for sports he’s never heard of. suddenly he regrets the entire thing. plus, he has no idea how to use the cash register and it’s his worse nightmare to ring up items without wanting to stomp a hole into it to get the customer’s change.

hinata shoyo: shoyo went straight for the pet shelter because he’s in love with playing with the little puppies. this boy will full on roll around with them, stuff them under his shirt so their heads poke out and just.. intergrate and become one of them... the doggies love him so much n always clamber to sit on his lap because hinata treats them with so much love and kindness!! customers looking for pets often joke about taking him home bc he’s just as excitable and friendly as the actual dogs. he’s also really good at convincing people on the fence to get a pet and explaining their individual personalities because he knows them so well :(

nishinoya yuu: he said: supermarket assistant so he could ride around on the carts, intimidates literally every customer with his ungodly enthusiasm but is determined to help EVERYONE, he’ll run around the store taking people where they need to go but only if he actually remembers where they’re situated. otherwise this boy is like “yeah they’re just... that way.” and bolts in the other direction. gets along with all his colleagues and tells them all about his tournaments with karasuno. he’s not the star employee but it wouldn’t be the same w out him.. often asks the manager if he can taste test the market’s pastry section to which he is rejected every single time.

tanaka ryuu: he’s convinced working in his local gym was him in his element, he wears that tag thing like a badge of honour and just walks around showing people he works there instead of actually doing his job??? he’s also overly enthusiastic and will sometimes cheer on the people working out as if he’s some kind of zealous personal trainer and everybody is like “literally how old is this guy??” he’s surprisingly awesome at reception duty because he’s always chatting to regulars about how they’re doing... the practical side like schedules and paperwork he leaves for someone else, everyone just puts up with him bc he’s a mood setter.

sugawara koushi: don’t get me started on this boy as a teacher’s assistant, like he helps little kids out with their work, tidies up the class during their break times and reads them stories?? he’s THAT senior boy who’s the biggest sweetheart and seeing him handle kids so well is like ... does he want some of his own ?? i’d like to offer my expertise he’s always got a smile on his face, gets along with all the staff much older than him, he’s like this perfect boy they all dote on and he gets super flustered saying he just really likes helping out the children and making them smile. often brings them little snacks too and they all call him big brother BYE.

tsukkishima kei: he does some low-key shit that’s kinda wholesome like working with the eldery or tutoring kids but prefers for literally nobody to know about it because anything he does outside of school is his business. he does it because it’s good pay, there’s not much else to it. if anybody found out he’d be super irritated tbh it’s just an invasion of privacy to him but eventually wouldn’t care because every kid is getting part-time jobs these days.

oikawa tooru: bye he’s THAT guy who got his job at a retail store because he’s pretty. like he has no real interest in clothes or anything but he takes the job as a place to validate himself when girls come up to him purposefully to flirt. he’s winking and laughing with them and also NOT actually doing his job but he brings in customers so at least he’s somewhat useful. doesn’t know how to fold clothes or hang stuff on hangers properly for shit and everyone lowkey wants to kick his ass but he’s actually very friendly and outgoing even if he has no clue what he’s doing. keeps asking if bra sizes come in small, medium and large and everyone just tells him to shut up.

iwaizumi hajime: when picking a job he was like “well what am i good at?” and went from there. he ended up as the local pool’s weekend lifeguard because he had the qualifications and time. again, everyone his age just tries to hit on him and he’s annoyed because it distracts him from the actual purpose of his job. he takes it seriously and impresses his colleagues with his swimming talent and knowledge on first aid. iwaizumi lowkey scares the little kids and they’re kind of afraid to ask him for help so he’s been working on looking a little more friendly.

kuroo tetsurou: kuroo as a tennis instructor assistant or just something sporty other than volleyball because he’s a multi-talented king?? like he’s not a professional by any means but he helps out the youth club and gets along with kids a few years younger than him. fills in for refs at tournaments, makes sure equipment is safe to use and is SUPER good at cheering club goers up when they lose or fail or can’t seem to do it correctly. he often refers to his experiences as nekoma’s captain to relate to them and they really admire his resilience and ask him to tell them more stories!!

kenma kozume: had to be dragged out to do a part-time job. was absolutely against the thought of it until hinata mentioned a friend of his who’d moved to the prefecture near kenma got a job at this new game shop. he was like fine and applied. he just kinda sat and people asked him questions about the games but he refused to do any further socialisation or actual grunt work like shelving, he quit pretty soon after, he just wanted the money to buy a game he ended up purchasing on his way out lmaoo

bokuto koutarou: he was dead set on having a volleyball related job, fukurodani have a club for junior players from all over the city to come and practice together. he was like?!? “and nobody told me??” he’s perfect for it as the captain and ends up as a secondary coach. he shows off A LOT and like kuroo, encourages the kids when they’re down. except kuroo is a more sit down, hand on shoulder, casual talk kind of guy. bokuto gets ridiculously sentimental and tells them dramatically about his lowest memories as captain when fukurodani lost and the kids are genuinely as emotional because of he way he tells it??? idk but they love him and he’s a ball of passion that keeps them going.

akaashi keiji: we are talking pretty waiter at a local gormet restaurant that gets tipped SO MUCH for his true professionalism. knows how to handle every situation with ease and is super calm, doesn’t care at all if someone from his school is there. he’s really just chasing that bag and he’s doing it well. bokuto often picks him up after his shifts so they can do stuff together but akaashi requests it be something calming since he’s tired after work... bokuto is like,, “so no to rock-climbing? alright i’ll reschedule..” the other waiters lowkey HATE the fact he gets tipped so well and they try and figure out his secrets. he has none. he’s just good at his job. i could see kiyoko working a similar job or somewhere lowkey like a flourist or bakery. she’s equally as professional and admired.

ushijima wakatoshi: ANY JOB. give this man any job and he’ll be able to carry it out like he’s been doing it since he popped out the womb. often mistaken for a grown adult so he gets jobs pretty easily? very very professional and aims to do everything perfectly. i think he’d also prefer a vb related job just like bokuto but something that could really get him somewhere big, smth to do with olympics like a paid internship for them .. can you even intern for the olympics lmao?? maybe something for the japanese team. it’s a lot of work to balance school & intern life but he’s very comitted and knows it’ll benefit him in the future. (kageyama was fuming when he found out he could have done that instead of his current gig).

tendou satori: has a job he’s very under-qualified for but somehow pulls off. he’s chilling at the hospital or law firm three times a week after classes or somewhere ridiculous but he’s doing just fine!! doesn’t actually do professional work n helps with small things but it impresses the hell out of everybody he tells, has no interest in persuing those careers but it’s fun for him, he gets paid VERY well for a boy his age and his personality creates a nice, talkative atmosphere in these seemingly tense environments.

miya atsumu / osamu: they both work at a café for novelty because they’re these handsome, athletic twins and it’s a thing that brings people in. they do a lot of fan service stuff and osamu is EXCELLENT like he was made for this job but atsumu is awful at keeping his cool. osamu will be chatting up customers, trying to persuade them to order more and atsumu is having a heated tustle with the coffee machine that’s broken down for the third time that day and it really ruins the magic osamu is trying to create. atsumu has probably sworn loudly. has probably almost been fired. he’s bad at playing along and flirting because he literally just wants them to leave so he can sit down lmao. osamu uses the pastries in the café as inspiration for his own at-home baking fiascos because it’s a stress-reliving hobby.

terushima yuji: he’s that boy in shoe shops that tries to sell you sneakers and he knows literally everything about them even when you really didn’t ask... looking to hit on girls that come in because shoe knowledge is obviously very sexy! alternatively you might catch him in a tattoo shop or sumn real appearance based and he definitely remembers all the regulars and greets them like they’re close friends, we’re talking inside jokes. always seems to know what tattoo people are looking to get purely based on their appearance and initial impression...

the list of unemployed:

yachi: too scared to do ANY job that requires interaction, she’s plagued by it.

hoshiumi: fired for picking too many fights with customers.

kyotani: EVEN WORSE THAN HOSHIUMI though he was strangely very efficient at paperwork.

suna: quit on the first day because it wasn’t what he expected and he doesn’t care about money that much.

lev: his family are like.... rich?? n nobody really expected it but he’s like yeah i really do not need one of those lmao.

yamaguchi: broke things, spilt things, smashed things. he really was trying his best..

aone: intimidated customers too much so they let him go (he was just STANDING THERE.. he deserved better).

sakusa: local venues are filthy, ushijima got the internship spot, no other job interests him enough to persue.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Educator sued for criticising "invigilation" tool

`9

High-stakes tests are garbage, pedagogically bankrupt assessment tools that act as a form of empirical facewash for "meritocracy."

They primarily serve as a way for wealthy parents to buy good grades for their kids, since expensive test-prep services can turn even the dimmest, inbred plute into a genius-on-paper.

All of this was true before the pandemic. Now it's worse. Most of us meet the plague and ask, "How can I help my neighbor?" But for sociopaths, the question is, how can I turn a buck in a way that only stomps on the faces of poor people who don't get to hit back?

Maybe you hear that and think of the absolute garbage people who ran out and bought as much hand-san and bleach and TP as they could in the hopes of selling it at a markup.

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/14/technology/coronavirus-purell-wipes-amazon-sellers.html

But those petty grifters quickly disappeared in our rear-view mirrors. The real scum were the ones with long cons that hit whole swathes of victims.

Think, in other words, of the "remote invigilation" industry, whose products spy on kids during useless high-stakes tests.

These are tools that allow teachers to get a 360' view of students' surroundings (a special hardship for poor kids in close quarters) while relying on racially biased facial recognition systems and modern phrenology like facial expression analysis.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/09/just-dont-have-a-face/#algorithmic-bias

These are effectively rootkits: spyware you are required to install on your computer that grants remote parties sweeping access to your files and processes - especially hard on kids who share computers with siblings or precariously employed parents.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/15/invigilation/#invigilation

Unsurprisingly, people who make these tools are unsavory, immoral bullies.

Take Mike Olsen, CEO of Proctorio, who dumped dox on a child who criticized his company in a Reddit forum:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/01/bossware/#moral-exemplar

(Proctorio told the Guardian they "take privacy very seriously")

Educators aren't any happier about Proctorio than their students are. Ian Linkletter is a Learning Technology Specialist at UBC's Faculty of Education.

He was so aghast at Proctorio's sweeping surveillance capabilities that he tweeted links to the company's Youtube videos documenting them. These videos were public, but unlisted.

In response, Proctorio SUED LINKLETTER, getting an injunction in an ex parte court proceeding that LInkletter was not informed of.

Proctorio claims that LINKING TO ITS PUBLIC VIDEOS constitutes a copyright infringement and a breach of confidentiality.

This is bullshit, but Linkletter is an employee at a public university while Proctorio is a ruthless profiteer that has raised millions in the capital markets to peddle surveillance tools:

https://pitchbook.com/profiles/company/91448-02#funding

Thankfully, British Columbia has strong SLAPP protections that allow people victimized by nuisance suits brought by deep-pocketed, thin-skinned jerks to get them expeditiously dismissed.

Linkletter's colleagues are standing behind him, and he's being represented by Joseph Arvay of Arvay Finlay LLP. Arvay's SLAPP motion to the BC Supreme Court is a thing of beauty:

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1OjxaRjRfe0BLh_A6rcyc9lCmdfZ5nEm-

Legal threats from wealthy, ruthless corporate bullies are incredibly stressful, even if you win. Trust me, I speak from experience (ohai, Bird, Magicjack, Playboy and Ralph Lauren!). And even with SLAPP laws and liability insurance, the out-of-pockets are severe.

That's why I'm contributing $100 to Linkletter's Gofundme for his legal fees, which have mounted to tens of thousands of dollars.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/stand-against-proctorio

Linkletter can't really talk about the case, thanks to Proctorio's sneakily obtained injunction. That means that it's incumbent on US, the people who care about justice for students and whistleblowers, to spread the word.

Please consider retweeting this and also investigating whether any of the educational institutions you or your children are involved with use Proctorio's products and point them at this lawsuit.

Any ed-tech firm that answers academic criticism with lawsuits has permanently disqualified itself from being entrusted with learners' educations. When someone tells you who they are, believe them.

Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[flannelpunkcalum]

Twinkle Twinkle Little Bat - Chapter 2

last chapter

i know absolutely nothing about the law except how to break it babyyyyyy so if this chapter is inaccurate you can’t blame me. I tried. As always, if you’ve got comments, questions, feedback, lmk! content warning for some PTSD-like elements. 

tdwk masterlist

ttlb masterlist (in progress)

* * *

Aspen would have really liked to drive with Calum to the DA’s office, but she was a logical person, she understood the value of taking separate cars. 

Pros: 

She could go straight home from the DA’s office

It looked less suspicious 

She could pick the music

Calum got driven everywhere by Alfred anyways so it really didn’t matter to him

Cons:

 There was no chance of stopping for car sex

Being such a reasonable and intelligent person, she didn’t complain when Calum said he would walk her to her car, then follow with Alfred and meet her again at the DA’s office. She just nodded, bundling her work into her bag and letting him lead her out without any shenanigans. They probably didn’t have time to get wound up before the meeting, and as much as she wanted him to push her up against a wall again she was willing to be patient. Since it wasn’t yet 5, the elevator was empty all the way down to the parking garage, and in the cube she leaned into Calum and rested her head on his shoulder. 

She had never met with a DA or anything - hell, she’d never stepped foot into a courtroom. Calum had told her when Carl Finch had first gotten in contact that he was probably going to ask her to testify in person at Liam’s trial, and possibly Falcone’s, too. Calum hadn’t explained that it could put a target on her back. He hadn’t needed to. Aspen was pretty sure it wouldn’t matter, anyways. She was a loose end for the mob, but she also had the protection of the Bat on her side. If she didn’t speak up, who would?

Calum forgot himself as they left the elevator, and kept his hand on the small of her back as he walked her towards her car. It took him almost twenty seconds to remember himself. That didn’t sound like much, but Aspen would take whatever she could from him. By the time her car was in sight, he had dropped his hand, but the backs of their knuckles brushed as they paused and he reached out to open the door for her. She was always counting touches.

“Wait for me at the front door, and I’ll be by a few minutes after you, alright?” Calum said as she settled into the driver’s seat.

“Sounds good. See you soon.” She nodded as professionally as possible. He closed the door, but he didn’t walk away until she had pulled out and rounded the corner, cutting him out of view.

She took a deep breath as she wound her way through the looming Gotham streets. Every so often she forgot that she had been attacked by Liam and put through - through that whole thing. But every so often she’d catch someone staring at her scar or she’d work late and get nervous dropping down into the parking garage and it would all come back. She couldn’t unbecome who she was now, she knew that, but forgetting was a gift every so often.

She put on some nice 80s pop to lift her spirits, which Calum didn’t like. The memory of the first time she’d jammed out to it in front of him made her smile, and that helped her get to the DA’s office without sinking into her head too much. She only wondered about the possibility of some hired gun waiting for her to flutter into his crosshairs as she entered the courthouse briefly, just while she was waiting for Calum to show, and she considered that a win. And she didn’t get shot, so it didn’t really matter in the end.

She had half-expected Calum to nod and smile to every cop and receptionist they passed by, but he was in entitled-millionaire mode as the front desk directed them to Finch’s office. It made sense when she thought about it; neither Calum Hood nor Batman would have been rubbing elbows with the paralegals down at the DA’s office. She remembered being on the receiving end of that behavior. It had made Calum so hateable back then. Now, she felt a little special that his softness was reserved for her. 

Once they reached Finch’s personal office, they had barely mentioned their names to the secretary before the DA was on his way out, straightening his tie and grinning warmly at Calum. Cal immediately eased up too; when they shook hands, he even patted Finch’s shoulder. “How’ve you been, Finch? Surprised I didn’t see you at the children’s fundraiser.”

Carl Finch shook his head almost sheepishly. He didn’t look ruthless, but Aspen tried not to think about him going toe to toe with Falcone. Maybe he could be formidible when he needed to be? She hoped so. She knew what that was like. As it was, though, he looked like he should be at the stands of some little league game, not wrapped up in... this. “Someone had to keep Gotham running while the commissioner was mingling. I didn’t expect you to come by.” He shrugged, waiting for Calum to laugh politely at his excuse before turning to Aspen. “Ms. McMichael, right? Pleasure to meet you face to face.”

It was Aspen’s turn to shake hands and make pleasantries. At least his handshake was firm. “Likewise. Don’t worry, I was at the gala, you didn’t miss much.” She said, smiling.

“Oh, were you? Well, I suppose - given what brings us here today, I should have figured.” Finch’s polite smile suddenly didn’t reach his eyes.

Oh no. She could feel how that had sucked the air out of the room all of a sudden. They all knew what had happened after. Should she try to acknowledge the elephant? Change the subject? She didn’t know how to recover from this. “Right, I guess you would know all the details, huh? I should have made that connection. But, uh, in case you were wondering the party really wasn’t that impressive anyways.” She tried to joke. It didn’t quite work.

“Glad to hear it. Well, shall we head into my office?” Finch said, looking at Calum.

“Oh, I’ve got some work to finish up at mine, I just thought I’d swing by and check in.” Calum said, and gave Aspen the tiniest of glances. Then, almost without a pause: “If you think there’s anything I should know, of course, I’d be happy to sit down with you two.”

That bastard! It took everything Aspen had in her to keep from glaring at Calum or stomping on his foot. He was going to try and get himself invited into her meeting so she couldn’t get mad at him for it. Well, if he thought he was being smart, he wasn’t. She wasn’t spineless, she could take care of this herself. She’d get him out of there if she had to fake a breakdown for it.

“That’s probably a good idea, Mr. Hood.” Finch was already walking towards his office, leading them both in. Calum was such a fucking dickhead. She didn’t look at him as they entered; she wouldn’t acknowledge his temporary win. “You’re both at least somewhat involved in this, so I think we should all, you know, be on the same page in this.”

“I couldn’t agree more. I think it’s only natural that I should want to be here.” Aspen could hear an almost playful edge in Calum’s voice, which she knew was meant for her, but she kept her eyes focused on Finch. She knew this was his delayed rebuttal to her argument earlier that morning - Liam and I are just unfortunate employees of yours. I think it might be a little suspicious - and she was only a little bit amused at his tactics.

If he wanted war, he’d get war.

Her mind was buzzing as she sat down at Finch’s desk. How could she get Calum out of this? Could she claim conflict of interest? Let herself cry and ask him if he could leave, she didn’t want her boss to see her this way? She was so busy trying to think up a way to subtly kick Calum out she almost forgot to be nervous.

“First things first, let me put you in contact with the case agent for the case against Liam Payne. His name is Raymond Flat, he grew up in Gotham but joined the national attorney's office rather than join his family firm, and he’s a great liason. He’ll be contacting you directly when you’re subpoenaed - well. Let me explain.”

Now the lawyer came out. Finch’s voice lost the boyish edge as he leaned in, elbows on his desk. “As it stands, Mr. Payne has been indicted by a grand jury trial for kidnapping, second degree assault, breaking and entering, and trespassing. However, his lawyers are seeking a plea bargain, and given the case the city is building against Falcone it… it would be in everyone’s best interest if he accepted it.”

“Given the danger he placed my employee in, that’s ridiculous.” Calum butted in. “How is Ms. McMichael supposed to believe that he won’t do it again?”

Finch didn’t look phased. “We believe that without the influence of Falcone, Mr. Payne never would have attacked your personal assistant. He’s not unstable, he doesn’t belong in Arkham, and after serving his time I personally believe he’ll be able to reintegrate into society quite well.”

“He was integrated into society when he attacked Aspen. He was holding down a good job at my company and doing regular things, and then he sedated my assistant, threw her in the trunk of his car, chained her to a chair, dangled her out a window, slapped her around, and stood by while she was tortured.” Calum was getting mad. The switch to her first name made Aspen nervous; Finch would probably notice that. She couldn’t even put a hand on him to calm him down without making the situation look worse, even though she could feel the anger radiating off him. She had been right to try to ban Calum from coming, but the confirmation didn’t feel satisfying right now.

...wait, he what? Aspen hadn’t known about the trunk of his car. She had never really thought too hard about how she got to the construction site, only - fuck. Her stomach twisted.

Finch was rolling with it well enough - he barely looked startled by the outburst. “In another world, you would have made a damn good prosecutor, Hood.” He said, shaking his head. “You make some excellent points, and I hope that you can pass them along to Raymond. Ultimately, since he’s being tried on felony charges, Liam Payne is being prosecuted on a national level and as a district attorney, I can only try to influence that. I can’t control it. I’m just trying to prepare you both for what’s to come in the next few weeks so you’re not surprised.”

She dared a glance over at Calum. His jaw was working, but his breathing was even. After a minute, he nodded. “Appreciate that.” He said, after another pause. “It’s just that it happened under my nose, at my company headquarters, targeting me. I want my employees to feel safe at work, sure, but beyond that I should have seen it coming. I should have fired Payne outright when he first started acting suspiciously. This shouldn’t have happened and I blame myself.”

“I don’t.” Aspen said. Both men turned to look at her. Fuck them both. Shaken or not, they had forgotten about her opinion in all this, and that pissed her off. “I don’t blame anyone but Liam and Falcone. Um, with that being said, I’d also be comfortable with Liam getting a plea bargain.”

“After what he did to you-”

“After what he did to me I’m in the best possible position to judge this situation, Mr. Hood.” Aspen repeated, not without force. “I…”

For a split second, she thought about the trunk. About Liam lifting her ragdoll body into it, tucking her gently into a fetal position before closing the door on her. His coworker, his friend, like a piece of luggage in the back of his car. Even the floor of the backseat would have been better. She looked up and realized she had paused just a second too long. “I - sorry - I think that if I had talked he wouldn’t have hurt me and he would have done everything in his power to keep me from getting killed. I think that Falcone is more dangerous and also, given how corrupt this city is, no offence, more likely to get off with a slap on the wrist. We’re lucky he hasn’t been released on bail. Maybe Liam won’t even take the plea because he doesn’t want to snitch, but I definitely support an offer.” She said, finishing strong. Thank god.

Calum didn’t look happy, but he settled back into his chair, relaxing slightly. Maybe he’d write off her little freeze up as a manipulative move. “...if you say so.”

Aspen almost physically bit her tongue to keep herself from firing back a response. She didn’t want to fight with Calum in front of Finch. She didn’t want to fight with him at all, really, but he had to get used to the fact that she had as strong a will as he did and she wasn’t going to let him dictate her life, no matter what he thought was best. She was gonna make the hard choices for herself. That was no one’s job but hers. And the quality of mercy was not strained, ok? Liam had tried to spare her, she was almost sure, and the least she could do was try to return the favour. Even if it was hard.

“Well, I’m glad we’ve had the chance to go over that.” Finch said, standing up. “Now, Hood, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go over testimony with Ms. McMichael for a minute. If you don’t mind stepping out - obviously, confidentiality and all -”

“Of course.” Calum said. His eyes tracked over to Aspen for just a second before he stood up. “I understand completely. Thanks for the chance to go over some of these details. I’ll let you know how it goes with Raymond.”

“Absolutely. I’ll walk you out of my office.” Finch said, giving Aspen a quick “wait here” look. “I meant to mention, I never see you at the club. How’s your short game coming along?” Calum laughed stiffly, and then he was gone and Aspen was left alone.

She had to settle herself. Talking about that night didn’t bother her so much anymore. She had told it so many times - to the cops, to her roommates, to her family - that it felt almost like something she could joke about. You think your deskmate stealing your pens is bad? She didn't know why that one detail was suddenly throwing her.

Her burner phone buzzed in her bag. Will u come to mine once ur done? x

Was she in trouble? Whatever. At least this way she could have dinner at the Manor and not have to go home before the night's watch started.

Finch was back. He noticed her leg bouncing anxiously at her side, she saw his gaze pause on it. "Thanks for waiting. I'm sure while you were working with Hood you got used to people vying for his attention."

"Yours was fairly dignified vying, Mr. Finch." Aspen smiled thinly.

He chuckled. “Thank you. You can just call me Carl, by the way.”

“Anytime, Carl. So, um, I just wanted to say that I’d be comfortable testifying in both cases. Falcone’s especially.”

Finch looked surprised. “Of - of course, and we’ll make all the necessary arrangements for your safety during that process. I hope you don’t feel pressured to do so, because - and if I can be honest, Aspen - it’s very possible that he will make attempts to keep you from testifying, one way or another. It’s not selfish to consider your own safety.” Parts of this speech seemed prepared; evidently, he had expected to need to convince her in this meeting. She had never given him permission to call her Aspen.

She bit her tongue. “Yeah, well, I’m already a loose end. The way I see it, he attacked me when I was of no consequence to him, so I don’t see why me not testifying would change much.” Not to mention that with Calum looking after her, she had the best bodyguard in the city. He saved her life once, he could do it again no sweat. She was tougher, now, too. If Falcone wanted her dead, he was really gonna have to work for it this time.

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re willing to help us out.” Carl said, and then paused in a way that made Aspen very nervous. “There was another thing I was meaning to ask you about, if that’s alright?”

The “can I ask you a question” question. Aspen hated when people did that. What was she supposed to do, say no? Knowing that she couldn’t deny a request to request, but also knowing the question’s content was gonna suck? She girded her loins. “Ask away.” 

“We’d like you to encourage Liam to take the plea deal.”

Aspen almost had to catch her breath. “What, like you want /me/ to try to convince him personally?” She said slowly, dread mounting.

“His testimony would help us build a really strong case against Falcone. He hasn’t said two words together to anyone so far, he’s refusing to cooperate with his council, and we think that given your personal history -”

“That’s not fair.” She interrupted, shaking her head. “You want me to - what, send him a letter begging him to do less time for what he did to me? I mean, I support the offer and all, I just - I can’t be the one to ask him that.” She rubbed her eye. There was too much nervous energy in her to keep still. Fuck, she was not getting enough sleep for this.

Finch waited for her to finish before he spoke back up. “Actually, we were hoping you’d talk to him in person.”

“...You can’t be serious.”

“Aspen -”

“Don’t call me that.” Aspen snapped, and she didn’t feel bad when Carl flinched. “I don’t care if this is special circumstances or whatever. The fact remains that - that he did what he did to me and I don’t want to go near him. Or hear his voice.” She realized her chest was heaving. Wow, this made her mad. In the stunned silence she could feel them both realize exactly how far she would go to avoid this.

Finch licked his lips, taking a moment for them both to collect themselves. “...Understood. I appreciate your candor in this. You know I had to ask.”

You didn’t. “I know.”

“As long as there’s no hard feelings -”

Aspen shrugged. She wanted this over with. “You’re just trying to do your job. You’re the DA, not my therapist. It is what it is.”

“I know this whole process has been hard for you, and I just want you to know that I appreciate your cooperation in all of these areas.”

Despite herself, she smiled. “You can give it a rest. I’m not gonna tattle on you to Hood, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I -” Finch stopped, and looked at her, and then he smiled a little too, like he felt like it was safe. “I won’t deny that’s a factor.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Aspen shook her head. She was just tired. “He’s been, uh, fun to have in my corner. I did not know he was going to be coming today, so that was fun.”

All she got in response was a confused look. “I know I didn’t invite him to the office.”

Shit. Was that suspicious? “Oh, yeah,yeah, I know, I mentioned it to him in passing when he was checking in on me at work. The man invites himself.” She said casually, waving her hand like it could hide her pounding heart. “Anyway. Is there anything else you wanted to go over, or…”

“No, that’s about all I had. Reach out to Raymond Flat - I’m sure he has your info but I think it’d be best for you to have a closer relationship with him. Liam’s case is obviously going to go to trial before Falcone’s, so when we meet next that’s what we’ll focus on.” Finch stood to show her out, reaching out to shake her hand across the desk. Aspen subtly wiped her hand on her thigh first. She didn’t want him to get an idea of how nervous this had made her.

“Sounds good. I’m glad I met with you today.” She said, and to her surprise she wasn’t really lying. It was good that this had happened. Even if it had dragged all that stuff up, they’d also moved forwards.

“Likewise, Ms. McMichael.”

Ha. He almost made it sound natural.

Aspen bit her tongue as he walked her out. Figuratively, of course. She made small talk, wished him a good evening, all that shit. Inside, though, she was bursting with things unsaid. She really didn’t mind him calling her by her first name, but she did mind him using it only when he was trying to manipulate her, and of course she wanted to tell him that so he didn’t think she was some kind of asshole, but that would involve acknowledging his ruse, and she was pretty sure that wasn’t polite? They both knew what he was trying to do, and she was pretty sure he knew that she knew, and - fuck. This was like Calum all over again. She had to stop playing these mind games with herself.

On the drive to the manor, she tapped her thumb on the steering wheel at every red light. If she wasn’t driving, she would be bouncing her foot, too, trying to get the anxious energy out. She didn’t know why being unknowingly shoved into a car trunk - fuck - made her get this way. She couldn’t even remember it, so why - why did she feel like she had to pull the car over to retch?

She wanted to speed, but she kept herself in check. Driving like a maniac wasn’t gonna be a good coping mechanism, at least not in this traffic. Maybe Calum had a private race track under the manor she could borrow one day. There was room for one, anyways. Who knew. 

These days, who fucking knew.

[talkfastromance4]

For Your Eyes Only– bodyguard!ashton [Chapter Eight]

Summary: Ashton Irwin is the head of security for Princess Alouette who is a kind, gentle young woman. Secretly pining for one another, those feelings will soon come to light as an occurrence will change Alouette’s life forever, and Ashton’s.

Word count: 2338

Warnings: slight smut in the beginning, softness and a poor (unplanned) reference to the notebook near the end

Masterlist

Chap. 1 || Chap. 2 || Chap. 3 || Chap. 4 || Chap. 5 || Chap. 6 || Chap. 7

It’s been a week since Alouette came back home from the lake, she’s still having her advisors handle her duties but she’s a bit more involved than before she left. She still didn’t want to be seen in the public quite yet and Ashton senses the looming storm still within her. 

He hasn’t asked her what happened to her in that room again, for fear of her completely shutting down and away from him. That’s the last thing he wanted. Calum is still interim head of security with Ashton delegating here and there while also trying to find out who instigated her kidnapping.

It’s as if an unspoken law has been bound between Ashton and Alouette, because they’re always together. Whispers are spread throughout the castle of their tryst but with the amount of respect each worker has for their Princess, they never bring it to light. 

Sunday mornings are reserved only for Ashton and Alouette, with absolutely no interruptions. 

Her fingers are light as they dance up the center of his back while he’s breathing heavily above her. Their hips moving in slow, tantric pulls. Ashton nudges her nose with his then stretches his lips to hers for a passionate kiss. 

Alouette moans beautifully inside his mouth, and Ashton drags his fingers along the creamy skin of her thigh. His thrusts are precise, hitting her in the right spot each time. 

“Angel,” he whispers when he feels her clench around him. 

“Ash--”

“Alouette Jolene!”

Alouette’s door flies open banging the wall and causing Ashton and Alouette to break their kiss in startlement. He covers her out of instinct and respect because her staff know better than to come bursting in her room. Especially on a Sunday. 

He covers himself with the sheet quickly and Alouette does the same but peers over Ashton’s shoulder to see who the intruder was. She sighs disdainfully next to him and Ashton peers behind his shoulder to see a tall, narrow eyed brunette glaring at the two of them.

“Aurora, what are you doing here?” Alouette asks sitting up a little straighter.

Ashton’s ears perk at the familiar name. She’s a cousin to Alouette who married a Prince of her own from Norway, the only way she was granted a title. Ashton stares at her disdainfully, he’s heard stories about her from Alouette and Michael. Not only does she think she has control over Alouette but she’s ruined their perfect Sunday morning. 

“Coming to talk some sense into you! This is what you’ve been doing for the last five weeks? Sleeping with the help?” Her voice cuts like knives and her words are going in for the kill.

Ashton sets his jaw, his fist clenching the bed sheet between him and Alouette. Her fingers rub the backs of his knuckles. 

“Aurora, you have no business being here. For one thing, it’s rude to barge into someone’s room unannounced and for a second, you have no jurisdiction here. Not over Chadria and definitely not over me,” Alouette’s tone is firm and authoritative. 

Ashton stares at her in awe, he’s never heard her speak like this with anyone before. 

“Suitors are sending in requests from all over for your hand, you need to stop messing around and get back to your--”

“In case you hadn’t heard,” Ashton speaks over Aurora sitting up so he’s blocking Alouette, “the Princess was taken hostage a month ago and she’s still recovering.”

Ashton will always defend Alouette even if the situation is compromising such as this.

“You have no right to talk to me like that, guard,” Aurora scorns. “I’ll make sure you’re fired for forcing my poor, sweet cousin to fornicate with you.”

“Aurora, that’s enough!” Alouette shouts. She shuffles from under the covers and stands, her sheets covering her like a toga. Her hair is a bit messy but her eyes are a fierce blue. 

Ashton can’t look away.

“You may have married a Prince, but like I said, you have no jurisdiction here. This is my kingdom. I don’t know what made you think you had to come here but you can go back to Norway. Your presence isn’t welcome at this time. Now please, leave.”

It’s a stare down between both women. With one last disgusted look to Ashton, Aurora huffs and stomps out of the room slamming the door in her wake. 

“She seems lovely,” Ashton jokes trying to lighten the mood. 

Alouette sighs falling to the bed and Ashton scoots closer to her and kisses her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry about her.”

“You don’t need to apologize, angel,” he continues to skim his lips over her skin. 

Alouette turns quickly, the sheet falls from her chest as she links her arms behind Ashton’s broad shoulders. Her eyes are intense as she stares into his.

“You know you’re more than help or a guard to me, right? That you’ve been more than that for a long time?”

Ashton smiles softly tucking her curl behind her ear and admires her. Her cheeks are tinted pink from their intimate moment, her rose colored lips are parted slightly and her eyes, her beautiful eyes are filled with remorse but also hope. 

“I do know,” he nods cocking his head to the side, “because you’ve been more than just my Princess for the same amount of time.”

Alouette smiles joyously then presses her lips to his. Ashton falls back against her bed and they continue where they left off before they were so rudely interrupted. 

•••••

 Alouette and Ashton were sitting out on the swing bench by the lake, cups of tea in both of their hands as they gazed across the water. Ducks and swans were gliding lazily over the water, their feathers glistening in the sun when they’d bathe themselves. Her fish were reaching the surface now and then as well, bursts of oranges and yellows touching the water.

Alouette sighs taking a sip of her tea.

“Swans have always been my favorite kind of bird,” she says.

Ashton looks at her when she speaks but her eyes stay glued to the two swans floating underneath the willow tree. 

“Why’s that?” Ashton asks, setting his cup on the small table in front of them. He rests his arm on the back of the bench, his thumb touching her shoulder. 

“Because they’re graceful and beautiful but fierce when it comes to protecting their young. Did you know that swans have one mate for life? And if one of them dies, the other could die of heartbreak?”

“I didn’t know that, no,” Ashton murmurs watching her steadily. 

While she described the white feathered birds to him, he couldn’t help but compare the exquisite bird to Alouette.  She’s the epitome of beauty and grace and only recently with Aurora he’s seen how fierce she can be. 

“You’re my swan, Ashton,” she confesses tearing her eyes away from the two birds. Her eyes are full of love and sincerity from her proclamation. 

“You’re--”

“Ashton, Princess,” Calum says from behind them. They both turn to look at him.

“What is it, Cal?” Ashton sighs rubbing Alouette’s shoulder with his thumb.

“The Queen is here and she’s requesting you both,” Calum relays the information, there’s a slight falter when he says the word queen. 

Ashton’s heart plummets and Alouette sighs again.

“Thank you, Cal. We’ll be right up.”

•••••

 Ashton’s palms are sweaty as he follows Alouette to the Queen’s office when she visits Alouette. So many thoughts race through his head for what she could want to discuss with them both. 

Will Ashton get fired because of his lack of judgment back in Paris? He had to speak with Queen Helene first before he was placed as Alouette’s head guard and being the Queen she could easily strip him of that title, and his job in general. 

Peter, Queen Helene’s head bodyguard is standing outside the closed white oak doors, hands folded in front of him. He smiles warmly when he sees Alouette and opens his arms.

“Princess,” he greets and Alouette walks into his embrace.

“Hi Pete, it’s so good to see you.”

“It’s wonderful to see you. The Queen wanted to see you as soon as we heard of what happened but--”

“I understand, Pete, it’s okay. I’m glad she didn’t have to see me like that.”

Peter glances up at Ashton who is going paler by the second because of the thoughts running through his mind. 

“She’s waiting for you, Princess,” Peter continues then releases his hold on her. He eyes her appearance. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“You have Ashton and his team to thank for that,” Alouette smiles at Ashton. “I’ll be right back.”

Peter steps aside and opens the door letting Alouette walk inside. 

“Alouette!”

“Grandmére!” 

Peter closes the door then turns to stare at Ashton. Ashton gulps.

•••••

Queen Helene and Alouette hold each other for a long time until tears spring in Alouette’s eyes. Her grandmother’s lilac perfume brings her back to when she was younger and would spend the summer’s with her at the palace. 

“I’m so glad to see you mon chérie,” the Queen breathes petting her granddaughter’s soft hair. 

“I’m glad to see you, too,” Alouette whispers.

“Come. Sit with me, mon chérie,” the Queen takes her granddaughter’s hand leading her to the soft pink couch near the window. 

Alouette notices she can see the swing bench by the lake from the view of her window, her heart races. Did her grandmother see Alouette and Ashton?

“How are you faring?” Helene asks, eying her granddaughter’s face.

“Each day gets better,” Alouette nods. “Dr. Hunt has been wonderful. I know I’ve been neglecting my duties, I know how disappointed you must be--”

“Not at all, Alouette. I was terrified as soon as I heard the news of what happened and then to hear that Ashton found you? I’m so sorry it took me so long to see you until now.”

“You wouldn’t have wanted to see what I looked like before,” Alouette sighs. 

“I came here because I want to discuss a few things with you. First and foremost, as soon as you’re ready to fulfill your duties let me know. They are being taken care of so you have nothing to worry about and the people of Chadria are more than willing to wait for your return.”

“Thank you,” Alouette mutters, tears welling in her eyes yet again. 

“And I’ve already spoken to Aurora, she won’t be bothering you again,” Helene adds grimly. “But that does bring up the subject of you and Mr. Irwin.”

Alouette gulps then nods. She knew this would be coming. She braces herself for the command of not seeing him anymore, to let him go.

 “Do you love him?”

“I’m sor--what?” 

“Do you love him?”

“I . . . I do, yes,” Alouette swallows confused at the unexpected turn of this conversation. 

“Good. That makes me happy,” Helene grabs her granddaughters hands giving them a squeeze. “And he loves you, too?”

“He does, grandmére,” Alouette finally relaxes. “I’ve never loved anyone like I do Ashton. He’s been with me everyday since the kidnapping helping me through it. He’s wonderful.”

“That’s all I needed to hear. Can you bring him in? I’d like to speak with you both.”

“O-okay,” Alouette nods then rises from the couch. 

When she opens the door she’s beaming at Ashton who is still white as a ghost standing next to Pete. “Come with me,” she says holding out her hand. 

Ashton glances at Pete then hesitantly takes Alouette’s hand following her into the office. His heart is racing when he becomes face to face with the Queen. 

“Your Majesty,” he greets bowing slightly. 

“Hello Mr. Irwin,” Helene smiles motioning to the couch next to her. “Please, sit.”

He follows Alouette and sits rigidly on the couch. Alouette rubs his hand in hers.

“I’m aware of the relationship you have with my granddaughter, Mr. Irwin and I wanted to tell you both that you have my blessing. But I’d also like to know both of your intentions as this appears to be moving forward. As you know, when Alouette turns twenty-five she will become Queen.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ashton says swallowing audibly. His heart is still racing. 

“Would you like to stay on as her head bodyguard or down the road become her Prince Consort?”

Alouette and Ashton squeeze each other’s hand at the same time, inhaling deeply. 

“We haven’t really discussed that yet, grandmére,” Alouette licks her lips. 

“Ah,” Helene smiles serenely but she can sense the tension she inadvertently caused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. But as your birthday is approaching shortly, I’d like to know what you’ve both decided so we can move forward. January is your coronation, mon chérie.”

“Of course,” Alouette says. 

“Wonderful. Well, I’ll let you two continue on with your day and I will see you both for dinner,” Helene rises and so do Ashton and Alouette. She holds out her hand to Ashton who hesitantly takes it. “Thank you for all that you’ve done for my granddaughter and for the love I can clearly see you have for her.”

“Th-thank you, Your Majesty,” Ashton stammers but shakes her hand. 

Alouette pulls Ashton from the office and once they turn the corner down the hall from Pete, she sprints into the nearest room which is her small library. She launches herself into his arms and Ashton lets out a loud sigh.

“That was horrifying, I thought I was walking into my beheading,” he chuckles nervously into her hair. 

“I’m sorry she brought up the coronation and the whole Prince Consort thing,” Alouette shakes her head leaning back to look at him. “We don’t have to discuss--”

Ashton presses his lips to hers feverishly, his hand holding onto her neck. It took Alouette’s breath away. 

“We can discuss that, angel,” he breathes once he breaks the kiss staring into her eyes. “You’re my beautiful swan, I’ll follow you wherever you choose to fly.”

• • • •

Taglist: @galcalirwin @cashtonasff5sos @wokeupinjapanisabop @myloverboyash  @rotten-kandy @tea4sykes @jannimoeller3 @loveroflrh @iovehemmings

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Being Simon

Chapter 2: The Present

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word Count: 9856

Chapter 2/2 (All chapters)

Summary: Simon is back in his own time, but all he can think about is the man from his past.

Read on AO3

AN: Time for some pining!

———————————————

I wake up on Sunday feeling just as shitty as I did Friday night. No amount of comfort food, hitting my punching bag, or mindless TV have helped. And sleeping it off has done jack shit, because all I could dream was Ty’s soft looking black hair and pretty eyes.

I barely know who he is. I don’t even know his bloody last name. Yet I desperately want to see him again. How that’s going to happen is...well, that’s something I haven’t figured out yet. Every time I’ve opened a door, I’ve hoped I would walk into Dr. Margaret’s office. She can time travel and teleport, surely she’ll know something about one guy I talked to. Right? Right...

I throw off my blankets, sitting up and staring out at the London skyline, lit up in violet and gold by the rising sun. I wonder if he’s out there, looking at the same horizon I am. I wonder if he’s working at his mother’s law firm, or if he’s reading forever like he truly wants. I hope it’s the latter. I want him to be happy. Fuck, I can’t stop thinking about him. The urge to see him again is burning in my chest and gut and everywhere. I’ve never felt like this before; so intensely focused on one person. If only I had looked at his bloody number!

“God,” I groan, “I want waffles. At least I can have that.” I get up and stomp to my door. The second I walk through, I stumble onto a cold stone floor, bright lights flooding my vision.

“Nice pants,” Dr. Margaret says. I pull the hem of my shirt over my Monty Python boxers.

“Seriously, why do you always get me at literally the worst times?”

“Not my fault you never have a good time.”

“Oh, fuck off.” I sit heavily on her couch with my arms crossed. “So what happened? You usually do the post-regret session earlier than this.”

“Time is an illusion. Stop stalling. What did you learn?”

I sigh, sinking further into the cushions. “Well, I learned that Agatha and I didn’t just fall apart, I let it fall apart. I put myself and my own stuff before her time and time again. And I’ve done the same with everyone else after Agatha because I refused to see my part in our relationship ending, so I never tried to fix it. I need to actually be present in and put the work into my relationships. That’s the lesson, right?”

Dr. Margaret scoffs and laces her fingers together, elbows on her desk. “What the hell am I here for?”

I shrug with a little smirk. My ego feels way too inflated right now. “Dunno. You got something else to add?”

“Hm.” She leans forward and pins me with her intense eyes. She’s really good at that. “You’re too scared of being alone to end things when they’re not going well. Why you get dumped every time. See that?”

And pop goes my pride. My face heats up, most likely turning an impressive shade of scarlet. I sink into my seat. “Okay, yeah, you’ve got a point there...”

“Simon.” She moves even closer with a kind smile. “Don’t feel bad. Not a bad person. Were alone most of your childhood, don’t want to be alone again. But can’t keep making choices from fear. Have to make them for the right reasons.”

“What are the right reasons, then?”

“Happiness, growth, all that good shite on greeting cards.”

I let out a small laugh. “Okay, I’ll go pick some up at the corner store.”

“Get some ice cream too. Deserve it after such a long regret.” She leans back in her chair, strong arms crossed behind her head. “Maybe give Agatha a call on the way there. Might know something about a raven haired bloke.”

My pulse goes into double time. I lean forward with eyes wide. “Wait, you mean-”

“Have fun.” 

Dr. Margaret nods, and the world spins into a blur of colour around me. Then I'm stumbling through my bedroom door like I haven’t been anywhere at all. Fuck, I hate when she does that. I have to stay against the wall for a few seconds, just until I don’t feel like I’ve been on a bloody tea cup ride for a million years. Part of that might be caused by Dr. Margaret said. My heart is still beating like mad. It’s bruising my fucking rib cage, I swear. Holy shit. Holy shit.

I scramble to grab my phone, half charged on my bedside table. Fourth in my contacts is one Agatha Wellbelove. It’s relieving to see for so many reasons. The phone rings three times, each one making my anxiety ratchet up, until it finally cuts off.

“Hello?” Agatha answers.

“Aggie!” I say a bit too loudly.

“Simon? What are you doing? It’s four in the morning here.”

My stomach sinks. Right. Major events don’t usually change after a regret. “Oh my god, you’re in California. I completely forgot about the time difference, I’m so sorry. I’ll go-”

“It’s alright, I’m already awake now. What’s up?”

“Um...this is going to sound random, but do you remember Ty? Your friend from third year uni?”

“Wow,” she chuckles, “that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.”

Fuck, that’s not a good sign. “Have you, uh, seen him since uni?”

“A little, but not in awhile. We only had a couple more classes together before exams started. We had drinks a few times after, then I went to California right after graduation and he went to Oxford. Both of us were too busy to keep in touch, I guess.”

“Oh. Okay...” I lay down on my bed, Part of me just wants to curl up under my blankets forever. Another part wants to stuff my face with pastries. (Maybe both.) (Both is good.)

“What’s up with asking about Ty?”

“I dunno. I was just thinking about that time we talked. It just, uh, popped into my head” Because I literally just lived it a couple days ago while in time travel therapy, but I can’t say that. I learned a long time ago that no matter how rationally I explain it, no one will believe me.

“Right, you talked to him after our breakup.”

“Yeah. He helped me a lot. I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t still be friends without him. He was nice. In his own weird way.

She laughs quietly. “Yup, sounds like Ty. He acted all haughty but he was such a sweetheart. Wish I had kept more in touch with him more.”

“Me too.” I hug myself, and it helps a little. “Me too.”

“Oh, I think I might still be Facebook friends with him.”

Almost all my despair washes away in an instance and I bolt upright. “Really?!”

“Lemme check.” She makes little contemplative noises through the phone. “Okay, yeah, there he is, Ty Black.”

“Black? That’s his last name?”

“No, he told me he had a crush on Sirius Black and wanted to pretend they were married.”

“Oh...okay.” I start to deflate again. I feel like a leaking balloon. “Does it say anything?”

“Looks like he hasn’t used it in awhile. His last post was a couple of years ago. Says he made partner at a law firm.”

“Does it say which one?”

“No, just that it’s in London. Not surprised, he always wanted to be in the big city.”

I’m grinning ear to ear. He’s in London, my city. He’s here with me. I can find him. “Cool, cool, good to know. Um, anything else you can tell me, Ags? Like his full name?”

“No idea, Si. I actually didn’t know much about him. We spent most of our time gossiping about our classmates or getting shit faced. If I asked him something about his family or past, he’d always change the subject. So I just don’t know.”

I’m not sure how to feel about that. Ty told me things about his family, about his past. But was that because he trusted me instinctively, or because I was just some random bloke who probably wouldn’t remember? Was I convenient? Well, he gave me his number, so he must’ve seen...something in me. Not sure what though. I've never seen much in myself.

“Okay,” I sigh, “makes sense, yeah. Thanks, Agatha.”

“Welcome, and good luck. From what I remember, he was really cute.”

My face turns a bright shade of scarlet. Luckily Agatha can’t tell over the phone. (I think.) “Um, I’m not sure-”

“Please, give me more credit, Simon. I’ve known you for most of your life, I can absolutely tell when you're smitten. Not sure why you’re thinking about him over ten years later, but I support you. I hope it goes well.”

I smile, and I kind of hope she can hear that. “Thanks, Ags.”

“Welcome. Now I’m going to go back to bed. Love you.”

It’s impossible to describe the utter joy and relief I feel at those words. I’ve got Agatha back in my life. Hell, as far as she knows, we never lost touch to begin with. I’m so, so happy.

“Love you too, Ags. Night.”

“Night,” she yawns. The phone clicks off, but I keep grinning. Well, even if I can’t find Ty, this is absolutely a victory. But I’m going to damn well try.

My stomach growls louder than a lion. Waffles first, though. Definitely waffles.

———————————————

“You don’t remember anything about him?” I ask through my mouthful of sweet, delicious fried batter and syrup.

“No, Simon,” Penny sighs. “I don’t remember the guy you mentioned, like, once in the few weeks before our third year exams.”

I grumble. Stupid past me, not saying more. It’s not his fault though. Past versions of me only remember bits and pieces of a regret, just enough so they don’t seem like total weirdos who blacked out and can’t remember a big chunk of time. So it's more like stupid time travel shenanigans.

“Damn, okay. I’ll just keep looking.”

“Are you really going to scour all of London looking for one bloke you met over ten years ago?”

“When you say it like that it sounds stupid.”

“Yeah, it really does.”

“Bye, Penny, got more work to do.”

“Simon-”

I hang up before Penny can talk me out of this. She absolutely will, and I don’t want that right now. I want to find him, no matter how impossible it seems.

First stop is the alumni website, obviously. We went to the same uni, he has to be somewhere in the system. My fingers fly like lightning across the keyboard. No one in the political science or English departments that looks close to him, just a lot of uptight white dudes or hippie looking magazine writers who probably smoke too much weed. None of them have his gorgeous skin or dreamy grey eyes. (God, I want to see those eyes again.)

Next, I try the Oxford law school site. It’s even more impossible to navigate than most uni websites. There aren’t even any pictures of their alumni, just a list of stupidly posh names. Lewison, Pemberly, Grimm, Fairchild, Abbot, Harrington, none of which have a first name resembling Ty. That’s another issue. His name could be a nickname for so many other names. Tyler, Tyson, Tyrell, Tyrone are all possible. (Hope it’s not Tyrone, bloody hell.) Or maybe his name is just Ty, for some reason.

That’s why London 411 is absolutely no help. Apparently there are literally thousands of Ty's living in my city. I narrow it down to people my age, plus or minus a few years and there are still hundreds of Ty’s and Ty adjacents. I groan and rake my fingers through my hair, nails digging into my scalp. Why the fuck didn’t I get his last name? I want to scream at myself but all that would achieve is getting noise complaints from my neighbours.

Eventually, I resort to just straight up Googling. I try everything I can think of. “ty university of manchester,” “ty university of manchester english,” “ty university of manchester politics,” “ty university of manchester english politics,” “ty oxford law,” “ty london lawyer,” “ty london,” “ty sexy hot university of manchester student ashwerhuertjwerh.”

I faceplant my keyboard for longer than I would like to admit. “This is hopeless,” I groan into my table. I lift my head up to the ceiling. “What’s the point of this, Dr. Margaret? Is this some sort of test? Are you trying to give me a bloody ulcer?! Cause the last one is absolutely happening!”

Of course, there’s no answer. I’m not even sure where Dr. Margaret’s office exists relative to myself, or to our reality period. Trying to figure that out makes my brain hurt. I look at the clock, and it’s already seven. Christ, have I really been at this for that long? I should be grading homework like a good teacher. I need to stop. I’m a thirty three year old person, dammit, not a love struck teenager. (Okay maybe I’m both.) I slam my laptop shut and go on a hunt for food.

I heat up some frozen macaroni and take out my munchkins’ worksheets. Okay, these are easy. Math tests are universally understandable and simple most of the time, unlike stupid time travel therapy tests. I shovel bad pasta in my mouth as I fly through grading. 

“Good job, Matt,” I mumble through my shitty food. “Got the formula right.”

This is easy. I can do this. And I’m not thinking about Ty. Not at all. Maybe if I keep telling myself that, it will come true.

———————————————

“Nice job there, Roy,” I say. “You summarized the text wonderfully.”

“Thank you, Mr. Snow.” He beams at me with his gap toothed grin.

“You’re very welcome, bud.” I turn to Sufia, who seems to be stuck on the second question. I get down on her level, making my knees ache in the process. It’s worth it. “Need any help, Sufi?”

She holds up her worksheet to me a little too close. “What’s this word mean?”

I gently push the paper back so I can actually read it. (My vision isn't bad enough for that yet.) “‘Ascend,’ it means going up. For example you can ‘ascend the stairs.’”

Her eyebrows knit together. “Why doesn’t it just say go up then?”

“Well, that involves a longer discussion about poeticism that we’re going to have next week, alright?”

“Okay.” She goes back to the worksheet, sticking her tongue out in concentration. I chuckle under my breath. The strange and hilarious things kids do, gets to me every time.

I wander around the room, helping any kid who needs it and giving suggestions when asked. Teaching is less about telling and more about guiding children. It makes me wish a certain someone would guide me instead of leaving me to suffer for the last week.

I’ve still got nothing on Ty, no matter where and how I search. Everyday my hope gets whittled down bit by bit. I’m this close to giving up. There’s only so many hits one person can take, really.

“Yes, that’s a good point, Maeve, I like where you’re going with that,” I say. “How do you think that fits with our earlier readings?”

Maeve scratches her head with the top of her head with her pencil eraser. “Um...I don’t know...”

I crouch down near her. “Well, is there a way for you to remember? Do you have the books on you?”

“No, but I have something better!” She reaches into her absolutely massive backpack (I’m surprised she doesn’t tip over wearing that thing) and pulls out three notebooks. They’re all labeled with divider tabs. It’s insanely organized for a nine year old. “I keep a lot of notes.”

“Wow, I can see that. You like doing that?”

“Yeah! I keep all my notebooks, I like to read them.”

“Smart plan. Wish I kept-”

My mouth snaps shut. The gears are turning in my head. Creaking and slow, but still turning. I’m flung back to a vague memory of being 24, moving into my current flat from my old uni one, and Penny sorting through my random crap. She stood over a mess of all my uni papers next to my desk. Literal years of collected worksheets and notes that I never got around to throwing away.

“Why the hell do you have all these?” Penny asked.

“I wasn’t sure what I’d need for later classes,” I’d said, “then it all just piled up...”

She shook her head at me. “Well, you can’t keep all of it. Pick some stuff you want to keep and we’ll donate or throw out the rest.”

I nodded, then sat cross legged in front of the anxious student hoard. I tossed all the random papers profs handed out but I never read, along with most of my notebooks. But I remember one moment, a single instance that might change everything, when I decided to keep the notebooks that looked nice. Like the green one with vines on it I used in third year. I always kept it in my book bag. I liked the pocket just inside the front cover.

Holy shit.

“Mr. Snow?”  I’m snapped out of my weird memory trance back to my reality as a teacher who needs to, y’know, teach. I smile down at Maeve.

“Sorry, mate, spaced out a bit there. Anything else you need help with?”

Maeve points to a new question. “What does this mean?”

I explain the question to her as calmly as I can, not showing how I’m simultaneously panicking and ecstatic inside. Like a fireworks display in every lobe of my brain. Holy fucking shit.

———————————————

The second all the munchkins are out the door, so am I. Luckily I’ve been distracting myself from the Ty search by furiously doing all my lesson planning. I’m set for the next week. But all I’m really thinking about is where I put my bloody notebooks.

I slam my door shut, only vaguely wondering what my neighbours would think. My office (really a repurposed storage room) is a huge mess of textbooks and lesson ideas, like a tornado tore through a Michael’s and a college book store. I make it even worse by throwing object around, searching for one stupid thing. I have to have it, I need to have it. It’s my last chance, honestly. Please, universe, let this go right.

Under my Teaching Theory 5th Edition textbook is a pile of old notebooks, including a green one with vines on the cover. I scramble to open it. My heart skips a beat when I feel a piece of paper. Slowly, I pull it out, and gasp under my breath.

023-345-9876 Give me a call sometime, Snow - Ty

I’ve never typed a number so quickly in my life, though I have to keep hitting backspace because my fingers are shaking so much. And I’m even more nervous as I bring the phone to my ear. Fuck, this is so stupid, but I’m not turning back now. The phone rings three times before it finally gets picked up.

“Basilton Pitch,” a smooth, strong, most likely male voice replies. Well, that sort of sounds like him, but wrong name. My stomach sinks a little.

“H-Hi,” I squeak. I clear my throat so I don’t sound like I’m going through fucking puberty again. “Um...”

“Hello? May I help you?”

“Uh, possibly.” I rub the back of my sweaty neck. “I don’t know if you can help me, but I’m looking for someone who gave me this number a long time ago. Do you know a man named Ty?”

There’s a long, extremely awkward pause on the other side. My face gets more and more red each passing millisecond. I’ve really fucked up, haven’t I? I should just hang up-

“No one has called me that in ages,” he says. “Who are you?”

I gasp very audibly. Holy mother of all fuck. It’s him. I’ve found him! “It’s me!” I shout far too loudly. “I-It’s Simon. We met once in uni, after your friend Agatha broke up with me. I’m not sure if you remember-”

“You’re...you’re Simon Snow.”

“Yeah! That’s me! And you’re Ty, the really nice posh gay bloke who was getting his degree in politics and English then went to law school, right?” I’m grinning, I can’t stop grinning.

“Holy shit, it really is you.”

“Yeah, and you’re you!”

He chuckles, and his voice sounds even brighter than it did all those years ago. “Yes, I am. Though I’ll admit, I’m a bit...confused. Not that I’m ungrateful, but I gave you my number over ten years ago, and you’re only calling me now?”

“Um, yeah...” I scratch my blushing face, quickly concocting up a reasonable story that lacks time travel. “I got caught up in exams, then I, uh...kind of lost the notebook where I put your number. I was so pissed at myself for awhile but what could I do, y’know? Then I was, um, going through my old uni stuff today and take a wild guess at what I found.”

“A notebook with an ancient piece of scrap paper.”

“Still pretty smart, huh?”

“Well, it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out, but I’ll take the compliment.”

My cheeks are starting to ache from smiling. I don’t mind at all. “Happy to give it, and that you haven’t changed your number in over a decade.”

“Thank God for being loyal to a mobile carrier.”

I’m about to say something else, anything to keep talking to him. But then there’s commotion on the other end of the line, and Ty (Basilton?) moves away from the speaker.

“What?” he says. “Yes, I can take a look at your notes, Vadoma, give me a moment.” His voice becomes louder again. “I’m very sorry, I wish I could keep talking, but I have end of the week work to do.”

My shoulders slump. “Oh, okay.”

“From your area code, I’m guessing you’re in London too, so how about we have coffee tomorrow and catch up? Around noon good?”

“Yes!” My voice squeaks again, fuck. Calm down, Simon. “Yeah, that sounds great. Any suggestions?”

“I know a nice little place in Camden if that’s alright.”

“Yeah! I actually live in Camden.” 

“What a lovely coincidence. I’ll text you the address?”

“That would be amazing.”

“Great, I’ll see you then, Simon.”

“See you.”

The phone clicks off, but it stays by my ear for another long moment. My brain is still playing catch up.

I found him. I actually found him. My stomach is filled to the brim with a thousand butterflies. I’ve never been this excited about...anything, really. How is it that one guy can make me feel like this? I have no clue, but I don’t care. I’m just looking forward to tomorrow so much.

———————————————

My leg won’t stop bouncing. No matter how deeply I breathe or push down, it just keeps jerking around like a hyperactive toddler. I’m somewhere between excited and completely, utterly terrified. What if he doesn’t show up? Worse, what if he does show up and he doesn’t like me anymore? It’s been over ten years, I definitely don’t look like I did when I was 21 anymore. He could be horribly disappointed with 33 year old me, with my dark circles and crow’s feet and only marginally better fashion sense. I would be.

Fuck, he’s going to laugh in my face isn’t he? My leg bounces even more. I stuff the last of my scone in my mouth then wash it down with strong coffee. Unfortunately that does nothing for my anxiety. I’m stewing in so much worry and fear that I don’t notice a shadow over my table until it decides to speak.

“Hello,” the same smooth, strong voice from the phone and from ten years ago says. I look up, and my heart skips more than one beat.

He’s just as beautiful as he was back then, but in a very different way. Same reddish-gold skin, same deep sea grey eyes, same raven black hair. But instead of looking like some preppy statue, he looks, well, human. He’s dressed in a tucked in white button down with a soft floral pattern. His collar is open, the sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, and it’s even wrinkled in some places, but none of that seems to bother him. More astounding, he’s wearing distressed black denim that hugs his legs in all the right places, a thumb casually hooked in one pocket. Never would I have imagined the uptight bloke I met in jeans. His hair reaches all the way to his shoulders now, falling in a lazy wave that softens the sharp lines of his face. His kind smile absolutely helps too. 

This isn’t the same Ty from twelve years ago. This guy is a lot more grown up, and looks so much happier.

“Hello?” he says again. “You there, Snow?”

I shake off the second Ty induced pan-panic of my lifetime. “Uh, yeah. H-Hi, Ty. Oh, wait, you go by Basilton now, right? Or do you like something else?”

He chuckles as he takes his seat across from me. It’s a simple movement yet surprisingly graceful. “Just Baz is fine. It’s less of a mouthful than Basilton.”

“Okay. Hi, Baz.”

“Hello again, Simon. How have you been?”

“Good, good. How about you?”

“Alright. Honestly, I’m still in shock that I’m seeing you again.”

I chuckle and rub my neck nervously. “Yeah, me too. But, uh, you look good. Twelve years later and you’re still stupidly attractive.” My face immediately heats up. “Sorry, that’s weird-”

“I don’t mind. Not at all.” He leans back, arm casually slung over the back of his chair. “You’re still cute as ever, though I am glad your fashion sense has improved.

I must look so ridiculous right now, a thirty three year old man blushing like a smitten schoolboy. How can I help it when he talks like that? “T-Thanks. Your clothes have definitely changed too. What happened to the tweed jacket?”

Baz groans and hangs his head over the back of his chair. I like the way his hair falls. It’s pretty as hell. “Please don’t remind me. God, I don’t even know what I was trying to do back then.”

“Be some posh and professional prat while also being gay as hell?”

His head moves back up and he snaps his long finger and points at me. (I still want to know if he plays piano or not.) “Yes, that sounds right. Conformity and rebellion all at once. I had such insane cognitive dissonance back then, god.” He leans his cheek into his palm, pretty eyes fixed on me. “So what do you do now? Still attacking random men then stealing their cigarettes?”

I chuckle to try to hide my utter embarrassment. “No, but if I remember correctly, you offered me the cigarette.”

“Touche. You still haven’t answered though. What’s your life like?”

I shrug and sigh. “It’s pretty normal. I live in a tiny flat and I alternate between box food and take out, but I’ve got a pretty great job. I teach little kids.”

“So you did end up going into teaching like you wanted?”

“Eventually, yeah. I got sidetracked for...well, until a year ago. But I’ve finally been getting my life together lately. I do my laundry once a week now instead of once a month.”

He laughs, head bending back over the back. It’s so free and open, I’m amazed. “Yes, truly a sign of adulthood, I agree.” Baz sighs and runs his hand through his hair. I like how the black strands fall over his fingers. “I understand being derailed all too well. You should’ve seen me six months ago, I was a train wreck.”

“Really?” It’s hard to imagine Baz as a train wreck. He was so pristine in uni, and even now he still looks absolutely perfect.

“Oh absolutely. I’m humble enough nowadays to admit that you were right, Snow.”

“About what?” I don’t mind being right, but I’m not really used to it.

“About me.” He leans forward, arms crossed and elbows on the table, offering more but still a bit closed off. “All those years ago, you asked why I couldn’t just do what makes me happy. And I said that what I wanted didn’t matter. I had many reasons back then, but in the end they were all bollocks. I learned that the hard way. So, you were right.”

Is it strange that I’m both happy and sad that I was right? It’s absolutely a bittersweet taste on my tongue, like figuring out a lesson about myself from a therapy session. “Well, uh, thanks, I guess. But that sucks. Was the hard way, y’know...really hard? I hope it wasn’t.”

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair again. Honestly, he looks like some romantic hero when he does that. And I didn’t think he could get more attractive. “Well, it wasn’t fun, I can certainly say that. I did what I was supposed to do. Went to Oxford, became a lawyer at the family firm, fought all the cases the way I was supposed to. I kept waiting to not feel like shit every single day, but that never came. Nothing ever got better, and bit by bit small things piled up, completely crushing me. Then, well...” He winces, like someone has kicked them in the shins. “I did something pretty ridiculous.”

My head fills with a flurry of probably insane ideas. I only now realise that I’m leaning a lot closer, entranced and nervous for what Baz has to say. “How ridiculous are we talking?”

“Well,” he bites the corner of his lips (it looks way sexier than it should), “one morning over six months ago, I was looking over my case for the day. Checking notes and arguments, drinking too much coffee alone, smoothing out my suit, the usual. And for some reason, in that moment, a realization hit me; This was going to be the rest of my life. Reading cases, arguing for clients I hated, feeling completely numb all the time. I had been doing all this bollocks for almost ten years, and realistically I would be doing for decades to come. The thought sent me into a terrifying meltdown thanks to years of untreated mental health issues. I didn’t know what to do so I sort of ran away.”

“Ran away?” I chuckle. “In your thirties, I think they usually just call that a vacation.”

“It would have been, if I had told anyone I was leaving and hadn’t stopped answering my phone for weeks.”

My eyes go very, very wide. “Wait, what?!”

“Yeah...” It’s hard to tell in this lighting, but I think Baz’s cheeks turn red. Embarrassment looks cute on him. “After pacing around my flat for hours, I decided to simply leave. Packed a small bag, grabbed my car keys, and just started driving north with no destination in mind. Of course my colleagues started blowing up my mobile, then later my family and friends joined them. I couldn’t bear to answer because I didn’t even fully understand what was going on. I just needed to get far, far away from everything I knew and hated.”

“Where did you go then?”

“To a lot of places,” he sighs. “Mostly bad bars though. I basically drank and danced my way up the British Isle. I think. Honestly, I barely remember that time. It was an alcohol laden haze with brief moments of sober lucidity when I drove. And when I was lucid, I got depressed about my life again so I would drink more that night and pass out.”

“And you did that for how long?” My heart is beating a bit too fast. I know he’s fine, yeah, but still, the worry is eating away at me.

“Only a month,” he says, like that’s in any way a relief. “At the end of September, I stayed at a shitty inn in Scotland. I remember walking down the hall, and the next thing I knew I was in a hospital with my aunt by my side. She equal parts screamed at me and was relieved I was okay. Turned out I had fallen down the stairs while severely hungover like a bad Monty Python skit.”

He laughs, but there’s sadness behind it. Just like his smile over ten years ago. The more things change, the more they stay the same, I guess.

“Obviously I was fine.” He waves dismissively. “I spent two weeks recovering in the hospital. Which gave me a lot of time to think about myself and my future. By the end, I had decided to take an actual leave of absence from my work to focus on my mental health. And I did. Started therapy, stopped drinking, bought some clothes that weren’t bloody lawyer suits.” I can’t help but giggle. Baz’s smile has no sadness behind it this time.

“So I guess you’re not a lawyer anymore?”

He shakes his head. “Absolutely not. I quit a week after I got back to London, then started applying for book editor jobs.”

I grin wide. I can’t stop grinning. “Reading books forever.”

There’s a lovely glint in his eye. Like someone ripped Polaris from the heavens and put it in the deep sea grey of his eyes. (God the poetry unit is getting to me.) It’s a kind of playful happiness that I really, really like.

“You remember,” he says amused.

“Of course!” He smiles wider, eyebrows raising up. Now it’s my turn to blush like a teenager. I sheepishly rub the back of my neck, thinking of a reason that doesn’t include time travel. Or obsessing over our one conversation for a week. “Well, I-I’ve remembered some stuff. You just kind of, uh, y’know, stuck in my head.”

“Hence why you still called me ten years later.”

“Yeah.” I tilt my head down a bit, uselessly trying to hide how ridiculous I look. “I mean, I’m not really sure why. You were just...really different from anyone I’ve met. You were so, pretty and posh and smart, and at first I found it annoying. But the more we talked I realised you were nice, in your own strange way. And without your help I would have lost Agatha in my life forever. I dunno. You made an impression. You’ve come up in my head from time to time.”

Technically that’s not a lie. By time to time I just mean all the time for days. Though I have a vague feeling, a whisper of a half memory, that past me may have thought about Baz too. Some things always stick post-time travel no matter how much past me is supposed to forget. Usually it’s only the super important, impactful things. Looking at Baz’s incandescent smile, framed by wavy black hair, I think he might count.

“Honestly,” he says, his voice low in a very private way that I like, “you’ve come up in my head too. Especially during my crisis. I thought about how right you were back then, how I should have listened to you and maybe wouldn’t have wasted so much of my life if I had. But I was too stubborn and blind back then to” 

“Hey, stop that.” I somehow lean even closer. I’m this close to actually getting out of my chair. “Don’t beat yourself up so much. Remember that you had good reasons back then, and yeah it really sucked to go through all that, but you learned stuff right?”

“I suppose...”

“Then it wasn’t a waste.” Baz’s eyes narrow. A softer version of a glare, but he's still not totally happy. “Yeah, I know that’s easy to say, but I do kinda get it. Working in jobs I hated, never dating, never really doing anything for years, that all felt like a total waste. Sometimes it feels like my life is only just starting now at bloody 33. But I think struggling also gave me the drive to work harder now, live better. So did being a lawyer give you anything good?”

Baz looks really cute when he’s thinking. I like the way everything in his face pinches up, from the furrowed manicured brow to the slight pout of his bottom lip. (Don’t think about kissing that pout, do not think about it.) (Fuck I’m thinking about it.) Slowly, his expression softens.

“I learned,” he starts, “that I can’t force myself to love something. I thought if I was a lawyer long enough, I would at least learn to tolerate doing it, but I still hated every moment. I can’t keep living for other people’s expectations. At least that’s how my therapist puts it. Maybe I’ll fully listen to her one day.”

I let out a laughing snort and immediately cover my mouth in embarrassment. I hate when I do that. But Baz grins at me. The amused, affectionate glint in his eyes makes me want to blush even harder. My stomach feels like it’s full of rocks and butterflies all at once. It’s so overwhelming and wonderful.

“Took me a while to listen to my therapist too,” I say. “Actually fixing yourself is hard.”

“Tell me about it,” Baz groans, hanging his head for a moment, hair like a wavy curtain around his face. “It took ages for me to realise that I didn’t know everything that was wrong with me. Instead I had to actually listen to someone else’s assessment of me and not interject my own thoughts every time. Do you know how frustrating that is for a know it all like me?!”

“I can only imagine,” I giggle. My thoughts immediately go to Penny and the first time she got drunk. My ears rang for hours from all her yelling about not actually being drunk. She and Baz might get along. (Maybe a little too well. God, could I deal with two of them together?) (Hopefully, because I want Baz to stick around for awhile.)

“I live in absolute agony.” He puts the back of his hand against his forehead like a dramatic Victorian maiden. I’m about to call him that when my stomach decides to rumble louder than a bloody earthquake. The corner of Baz’s mouth quirks up. “You hungry there, Snow? I can get us something.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m always hungry. But I can buy it, don’t worry.”

“Nonsense. I was the one who asked you out and picked the place, I’ll happily pay.”

“Out like a date?” The words spill out before I have a chance to stop them. 

I’m pretty sure even the tips of my ears have turned bright pink at this point. Shit, why did I say that? Calm down, Simon. This is (technically) the first time we’ve seen each other in twelve years. No need to make this something it may not be. I expect Baz to be shocked, or confused, or annoyed at worst. But once again today, Baz surprises me. All he does is smile, looking at me with such kindness, far more open than I remember he was back at uni.

“Would you like this to be a date?” There's no pretense or implication in his words, he’s legitimately asking me. I don’t feel pressured, but luckily I already know.

“Yes, yeah, I-I would. I’d like that a lot.” I reach my hand forward across the table and just barely brush our fingers together. The tips of his are rough. Maybe he plays guitar or something, not piano. Doesn’t matter. I like the way he feels anyway.

Baz grins pointy ear to pointy ear. He flips his hand over, long callused fingers pressing into the much softer skin of my inner wrist. He can probably feel the way my pulse jumps. Luckily, I can feel the way his own is hammering. “Me too, Simon.”

We spend a bit too long just staring at each other before my stomach grumbles again. Baz chuckles and flags down the very nice waiter. I get another cherry scone and hot chocolate (yes I am 12 on the inside), and Baz gets something called a pumpkin mocha breve.

“What on Earth is that?” I ask when Baz gets his drink. It’s pale orange with a mountain of whipped cream on top.

“Try it.” He offers the cup to me and I take a sip. My tongue is immediately assaulted with more sugar that I’ve ever tasted at once. I blink rapidly from the shock.

“It tastes like a candy bar.”

“What can I say, I have a sweet tooth.” He licks the whipped cream off the top like a toddler with ice cream. A dollop gets on the tip of his nose.

“You’ve uh, got something right...” I flick the cream off with my thumb, “there.”

He laughs quietly. “Thank you. Allow me to return the favour.” Baz brushes some scone crumbs from my cheek. My skin feels like it’s on fire.

“T-Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome.”

We eat and drink and talk in between. Baz tells me about his work at the publishing house. It’s a small place that does mainly e-books and a few print ones, focusing on indie LGBT+ writers. He’s currently working on a book he describes as “gay polyamorous steampunk pirates,” which honestly gets me way too excited. I plan on pestering him for more details in the future. He looks animated the whole time, so passionate about what he’s doing. It makes him more beautiful.

He asks about my teaching. I tell him about my students, how incredible they are no matter how much they drive me crazy. I describe my lesson plans and all the new things I’m trying. Structured word inquiry, collaborative maths work, mixing subjects together to get kids engaged with stuff they don’t like. Luckily my principal is in favour of more out there ways of teaching too. Baz pays attention, asks questions and listens raptly. I can’t tell if he’s faking it. Most people do. I can’t blame them, it’s not very interesting. But as I go on and on, Baz never tries to change the subject or stares off into space. It’s not like he’s an angel for paying attention to me. It’s just nice that he’s making the effort. He’s really, really nice.

We eventually move off the topic of work. I tell him about my fencing class, something I haven’t done since I went to Watford. Baz calls me a bronze haired knight. I’m not too proud admit that made me blush. In turn, Baz tells me about getting back into playing the violin since he quit being a lawyer. (So that’s what the calluses are from).

“Cold I hear you play sometime?” I ask.

“My skills are still rusty,” he says over his near empty mug.

“Is that a no then?”

He sighs, but it’s with a small smile. “More like a ‘listen at your own risk.’”

“I can live with that.”

“Alright, another time then.”

I grin. Another time, I really like the sound of that.

Eventually, we somehow get onto the harder topics. I tell him about being in group homes, not having friends until Penny and Agatha, still feeling out of place and worthless sometimes. Baz talks about growing up without his mother, trying to live for her instead of himself until recently. Turns out we’ve both had a lot of hardship. We understand each other. We sort of match, I guess.

“I did like being with my younger siblings,” Baz sighs. “No matter how much I pretended I didn’t. Part of me felt like I was betraying my mother if I loved her husband’s children with another woman. But they were still my siblings and good kids, though I’m glad they’re all mostly tolerable ages now.”

I chuckle, leaning my cheek on my fist. “Mm, understandable. I always wanted siblings. Other kids to play with, y’know?”

“Group home kids didn’t play with you?”

“Nah, I was the weirdo who preferred punches over talking. No one liked being around me.”

Baz reaches out and brushes against my forearm. How can someone make me feel like I’m going to melt with just a touch? “If it’s any consolation, I certainly like being around you.”

I grin and touch his arm in turn. “I’ll certainly take that.”

We get away from all the dark shit, turning back to happier things. Baz describes the techniques and difficulties of the violin with dramatic gusto. I relay some of my worst customer service work experiences. I’ve never been good at talking, never liked it much. But I like it with Baz. He feels easy to talk to. I barely feel scared or awkward. We talk so much that we don’t even notice the sun setting on the horizon.

“Holy shit what time is it?” I say.

Baz looks down at his fancy leather watch. (A leftover from his prep days.) “Much later than I think either of us realised.”

I laugh and run a nervous hand through my hair. “Damn, sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize, Snow, unless you regret being here?”

“What?!” I gasp. “Of course not!”

He grins cheekily. I grumble and glare at him. Teasing bastard. Baz grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together. Any bad will immediately vanishes. “You said you lived in Camden. How close are we?”

“Uh, not that far. I walked here.”

“Wonderful. How about I pay then walk you home like a gentleman?”

I hope my face doesn’t look as hot as it feels. I squeeze his hand. “I’d like that a lot.”

He squeezes back. “Good.”

Baz does just as he says, and soon enough we’re strolling down the streets under the dimming London sky. We chat some more, but also occasionally just walk in comfortable silence. I don’t mind either, because Baz doesn’t let go of my hand the whole time. I’ve never felt so excited just from someone holding my hand. I don’t know why. I don’t care, really. I just want to bask in it forever.

Unfortunately though, we do reach my building. Never have I hated my own home more. I consider not telling Baz so we can keep walking, but then I remember all the homework I was supposed to grade yesterday while I was too excited about Baz to focus. I’ll need a good night’s sleep to survive. Life is too cruel sometimes.

“This is me,” I say.

“Nice place,” Baz replies.

“You don’t need to lie.”

“I’m not, I promise.” His head tilts to the side, a smirk on his lips. “Maybe I could see if your flat matches up sometime.”

I swear to god, my face is going to melt off from how much I’m blushing today. Baz laughs at my obviously flabbergasted expression. I playfully smack his shoulder. “Haha, very funny. Buy me dinner first, arsehole.”

He tugs me a bit closer by our joined hands. My nose is almost touching his. The smell of his post coffee peppermint gum hits me so hard I’m afraid I’ll stumble from the wonderful shock. “Are you free next Friday?”

I gulp, then nod slowly. I can’t look away from his mouth, fuck “Y-Yeah.”

“Good for you.” He takes a large step back, snapping me out of my daze. He’s got a cheeky little half smile on his lips. “I’m not, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy the free time.”

I gape at the absolute bastard. I shove his shoulder a bit harder this time. “Arsehole!”

Baz throws his head back laughing. It’s the most beautiful sound in the noisy London night. He takes my other hand and runs his thumb over the back of it. “Unfortunately, I am actually tied up for the next week, but I’m free the week after. Any ideas, Snow?”

I grin at him. “How about a scenic walk in Hyde Park?”

One of his eyebrows goes up in playful confusion. “Not dinner?”

“We’ll get to dinner eventually. I expect to be romanced a bit more first, Basilton.”

He smirks again and pulls me closer again “That doesn’t sound bad at all. Hyde Park will be lovely this time of year.”

“Agreed.”

Even though by all rational logic we should let go, our hands stay linked. Neither of us make a move to get away. I can smell the peppermint again, every time his hot breath brushes against my face. It’s somewhat shaky. But I imagine mine is about the same. I’m not sure. I’m too focused on his sharp cheekbones and blown pupils and pouty mouth. Mostly his mouth. Before I know it, we’re nose to nose. I’m getting whiffs of something other than his gum. Cedar, maybe, and bergamot. It’s perfect for Baz. He moves his face slightly, and our mouths almost touch. A spark still runs through my veins.

“Simon,” he sighs, and the sound of his voice hits me in so many places. Baz’s head moves again, brushing our noses together. I watch his eyes flutter like a pair of butterflies until they fully close. Mine follow suit. I’m overwhelmed by the smell of cedar and bergamot as I press my mouth to Baz’s.

He’s colder than I thought they would be, colder than anyone I’ve kissed before. Yet I like it so much more. Baz’s tepid mouth sends a calming wave through my constantly overheated body. He’s soft too, like how I imagine a cloud could feel if I was ever able to touch one. Our lips slot together so easily. His hands clutch mine tighter, nails even digging into my skin. Not good enough. Not close enough. I let go of Baz, but only so I can slide my arms up to hold his shoulders, pressing our bodies together. Baz immediately winds his arms around my waist, getting us even closer. He’s all lovely lean muscle pressed against me. And I fit into his arm so well. My lips fall open and Baz quickly follows. His tongue slowly over my back teeth, making stars explode behind my eyes and in my brain. I kiss him more fervently. Baz groans into my mouth. 

Part of me can’t believe that we’re doing this. Two thirty three year old men, snogging like stupid teenagers on the steps of my apartment building. Sounds so embarrassing. The other part of me really doesn’t care. I’ve never felt like this just from a kiss. Like I’ve left my body and entered another dimension where all there is happiness and pleasure and Baz. Is this how all kisses are supposed to feel? Or is it because of Baz? I don’t know, and I don’t care. I just weave my fingers through his silky smooth black hair and keep kissing this wonderful, wonderful man.

Baz pulls away, and I nearly whine. Luckily I still have a bit of dignity. (Just a bit.) He doesn’t let go of me, thank god. He keeps his lovely hands on my waist, eyes still half closed, bright red lips pulled into a grin.

“Do you always kiss on the first date, Snow?” he whispers playfully.

“No, you’re the first.” I twirl a bit of his wavy hair around my index finger. “Feel special?”

“Extremely.”

I lean forward and kiss him again for a moment. Just a quick, hard press against him. Baz leans forward slightly when I pull away. My heart flutters happily in my chest. “As much as I’d like to keep doing this, it’s late, and I’ve got grading to do.”

He makes an over dramatic groan, leaning against my hands. “How dare you be a responsible teacher who is truly committed to educating the next generation?”

God, he’s making me want to kiss him again. He does it so easily. “I know, terribly inconvenient. We’ll figure something out, yeah?”

“Yes, give me a call. And don’t wait twelve years this time.”

I sigh while Baz smirks at me. I’m about to retort when he leans down and kisses me. My head is spinning like a tumble dryer. I don’t want this day to ever end. Unfortunately, reality is a thing that exists. And because of it, Baz has to pull back, leaving me wanting more.

“I’ll text you when I get home,” he says, “alright?”

“Alright. Have a good night, Baz.”

“You too, Simon.”

He pecks my forehead, and I nearly melt into the pavement. We then slowly disentangle ourselves. My fingers trail on Baz’s as he lets go. He waves one more time. I smile back. And I keep smiling as I watch him walk down my street, only going for my keys when I lose sight of him as he turns the corner. I literally skip up my steps to my door. I’m so dazed with happiness that I barely notice that I walk into Dr. Margaret’s office instead of my dingy lobby.

“Snogging in public?” she says. “How very adolescent.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “That’s what you say after abandoning me for a week?”

She snorts, leaning back in her chair. “Didn’t abandon you. Just let you figure things out on your own. Point of therapy, remember?”

“Well, yeah, I know that. A little heads up would be nice though.”

“Not my style.”

It’s my turn to snort. I plant myself on her couch. “I know, you’re more of the ‘toss in the deep end and yell swim’ kind of therapist.”

“Mhm. And look how it turned out. Found your Baz.”

My eyes narrow even more. “How do you know his name?” Dr. Margaret just keeps smiling at me like a cat who’s caught a canary. The realisation slaps me in the face. My jaw drops open. “You knew exactly who and where he was the entire time, didn’t you?” No change, still smiling. “How?!”

“Though about him. Saw his whole life in my mind’s eye.”

My jaw falls further. Holy shit, how powerful is she? “Really?!”

“No.” She pulls a plastic card out of her pocket, holding it between her index and middle finger like a throwing star or something. “Swiped his uni ID and Googled him here. Much faster than powers.”

I can’t help but burst out laughing. Godlike abilities have nothing on a good search engine, it seems. “Of course you did.”

She shakes her head sarcastically. “Can’t believe you. Send you back in time, and you wonder how I know about one bloke?”

“Uh, yeah. Knowing everything is a bit different from time travel.” I lean forward with elbows on my knees. “Why didn’t you tell me about him then? Why make me suffer for a week?”

“Suffering now?”

“Well, no, now that I’ve found him-”

“And what made you want to find him?”

I rub the back of my neck, trying to coax the words out from my brain. “Uh, I dunno. I know we met only once, but he just stuck in my head. He was interesting, smart, funny and nice in his own way. And I wanted to talk to him again, learn more about him. It was overwhelming, really. How much I wanted to be around Baz again. I-I’ve never felt something like that so strongly before.”

“Exactly.” Dr. Margaret picks up a pen just to point it at me. “Felt strongly for the first time ever. Made you determined even to find him when it was hard. And never felt this strongly because you always settled for okay. Felt okay with Agatha, with Todd, with everyone. Need better than okay. Need to want someone more so you can build more. Make a relationship that’ll actually go somewhere.”

My eyebrows furrow. “I thought I needed to focus on the present more.”

“You do. In the present, desire Baz right?”

I think about Baz’s pretty eyes and his pretty laugh and the way he made my head do somersaults when he kissed me. My flushed face splits into a grin. “Yeah, I really do.”

“Good.” She leans back again with her hands linked behind her head. “Build from there. Put the effort in like you did searching for him. Will want to put the effort in, because you actually want him, not just because he’s nice and you should like him.”

The puzzle pieces start to slide into place finally. It was all one big, weird life lesson, of course, like everything Dr. Margaret gets me to do. Looking back, I cared about Agatha, and I did love her as a friend. But I never desired her. I never desired Todd or any of my other exes either. They just seemed like the kind of people you should date. They weren’t even bad, they just weren’t for me, weren’t who I wanted.

But dear lord, do I want Baz.

“You couldn’t just tell me I was dating people I wasn’t actually attracted to?” I ask. “That I was actually supposed to feel more but I was settling for nice people I didn’t really like instead?”

Dr. Margaret shakes her head. “Not how therapy works. Supposed to guide you to find the answers, not tell you outright. Where’s the fun in that?”

I cross my arms and smirk at her. “Since when is therapy fun?”

She glares at me hard. “Brat. Lucky that I like you.”

“Aw. I’m touched.” My voice is sarcastic, but my bright smile is genuine. I’m glad she likes me. I’m glad she’s here to help me finally live my life. I hate to think where I’d be without her help. From her returning grin, I think she knows that.

“Go do your grading. Be a responsible teacher. See you next time.”

“See you later, Dr. Margaret.”

She waves her hand, gold rings flashing in the light, and the world spins like a cyclone. I yelp as I fall flat on my arse on my apartment floor. Well, at least she didn’t put me back in the lobby so I had to climb all those stairs. Small blessings, take 'em where I can get ‘em. And Dr. Margaret herself is already a huge one.

After getting out of my day clothes and into trackies, I set about to my teacher's work. It’s not the most fun part of the job but it’s certainly the most important. I’m lost in a haze of spelling tests and math activities when I feel my phone buzz. There’s one text on the screen, and it makes me smile instantly.

Baz Hey, made it home safe. I had a lovely time today and can’t wait to see you again. Call me tomorrow at lunch?

Is it possible to die from such pure happiness and excitement? I hope not, because I’ve still got so much more of my life I want to live. And I want to see if Baz will be a big part of it.

Simon  me too. call you at noon <3

———————————————

AN: Mushy ending, as usual for me haha. I really hope you all liked that! Even if you don't know the original show, I hope it was good. I really liked the idea of Simon in time travel therapy, it would be good for him. Tbh I thought about making Ebb his therapist because she was such a mentor for him, but I wanted to try out Margaret and she ended up being a lot of fun. I may write more in this universe. There are other Being Erica plotlines that could be fun. And exploring Baz and Simon's relationship in this AU further could be great. We'll see. I'm taking writing day by day due to my health. Anywho, thanks for reading!

[cami-chats]

Married

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Pairings: Jon Snow/Tormund Giantsbane, very minor Ygritte/Arya Stark

Warnings: Perceived non-con but everything’s fine

Jon was seventy nine percent certain that Arya was going to kill him. 

"You're married?!" 

Make that eighty five percent certain. "Well, I mean-" no, he wasn't, he was doing Tormund a favor so he could save face in front of his ex who was now happily married and the only reason Jon had agreed was because no one there was going to recognise him until now "-you didn't tell me you like women," he blurted to try and take some of the heat off him. Then he wanted to face palm because that was one of four things he could've said to make this worse. 

"I know that coming out doesn't mean shit to you since you got caught having sex with Robb in front of our parents, but not all of us are like that." 

Tormund, momentarily forgotten by Jon in his panic of Arya being here, laughed. Because he was a fucking arse. "You got caught with your trousers down. Aw," he cooed obnoxiously, ruffling a hand through Jon's hair and making it a mess, "I'm so proud of you." 

Jon shoved at his arm in annoyance. "I just mean that you keep secrets too." 

"Secrets about who I'm fucking, not who I bloody married. What in seven hells, Jon? When did this even happen? It's not like you vanished for a year and then showed up with him." 

"No, Arya, it's- okay listen-" 

"Can I talk to you for a second?" Tormund interrupted, dragging Jon away without having to try very hard at all. 

"What?" Jon snapped, annoyed that his struggling had been ignored like it wasn't happening. 

"You can't tell her." 

"It's just Arya. She's not going to tell Brienne, she probably doesn't even know her that well and only came because Ygritte brought her." And wasn't that a fucking shock, to learn that Ygritte was dating Arya. He could see how they'd get along, but still. 

"Yeah, Ygritte brought her, and Ygritte's never been able to keep her mouth shut. Just tell her you'll explain later, and you can tell her the truth tomorrow." 

"By tomorrow she'll have told her entire family." 

"Please just-" Tormund stopped short. His eyes darted to the side, and then he was leaning in, kissing Jon almost as if he'd been wishing he could for years. 

Jon kissed back, at first automatically-- because that was what you did when someone kissed you, you kissed them back-- and then because it felt so fucking god. Is this why Tormund had been so insistent that Jon agree to his original plan? That seemed like a weirdly extravagant plan to ask Jon to date him, but Tormund had done worse in the past. 

Tormund eased away and instead of saying something romantic or stupid-- or stupidly romantic like he often did-- he whispered, "Sorry, Brienne's bloke was looking over." 

It felt like a bucket of water and been dumped over his head. "You're an arse," he muttered, "you know that?" 

Tormund frowned at his tone. 

Jon didn't really care. His stomach was sinking like a stone in water, and he felt so unbelievably stupid for thinking that this had been anything other than what it was at face value: a favour for a friend. "Whatever," he said, trying to walk away. 

Tormund didn't let him, keeping a firm hand on his arm so he couldn't escape. "I know I should've asked first, but I didn't think you'd care. We're pretending to be fucking married, of course we'll kiss sometimes." 

Jon just looked at him, his eyes hard. He really was the dumbest bastard he knew, and he couldn't even get made at Tormund for it. "Yeah," he said, voice gruff, "you're right. Sorry." 

"You okay?" 

"I'm fine." 

"Are you sure?" Cause you've got a moping face on." 

"I do not." 

"Mmhmm." 

"The fuck would I be moping about?" Jon asked, beyond aggravated at just about everything. 

"I don't know, that's why this is weird." 

Jon rolled his eyes. "You're an idiot." 

"Yeah but usually you're not so mean about it." 

Jon just walked away. He wasn't really surprised when Tormund followed him instead of letting him storm off, but it did serve to annoy him even more. Tormund did all these things, said all sorts of things to Jon that always got his hopes up only for it to come crashing down later. 

"Are you ever going to explain what you're in a strop about or do I have to start guessing?" 

"Let it go." 

"How about no, and you just tell me what's wrong." 

"Nothing's wrong.” 

"You're a pain in the arse, you know that?" 

"Then stop dragging me into your bullshit and I'll be a pain in somebody else's arse." 

"That wasn't the point," Tormund said. This was the problem with him and Jon: he knew how to keep him happy, but the instant he got upset, Tormund had no idea what to do. 

"Then what was the point?" 

"Tell me what's wrong!" He'd thought it was pretty damn obvious that that was the point. 

It would be too childish to say no and stomp away, but he was tempted. Gods, was he tempted-- and the only reason he didn’t was because Tormund had proved that he wasn’t going to let Jon storm off. He also refused to blurt out his feelings like they were trash. "Why do you care? Let me be pissed off, it's no skin off your back." 

"Why the fuck would I let you be pissed off? If it's reasonable fine, but this probably isn't something you need to get angry about so just tell me what it is." 

"You're an arse," Jon said. 

"Yeah, but-" 

"You're also," he gritted out, unable to help himself, "bloody perfect." Which just made it worse. 

Tormund blinked, completely thrown by the direction that had gone. "Er, I mean, thanks, that's kinda why I asked you to come with me. Look, if you're that upset about it, you can tell your sister." 

"I thought you were afraid of Brienne finding out?" 

"If your family thinking we're married has gotten you this worked up, then it doesn't matter." 

"They're not my-" Jon started to correct. 

"Your family," Tormund finished, waving him off. "They're basically your in laws without the marriage, but whatever. I thought this was gonna be something fun for us, go to a wedding and drink free booze instead of sitting by ourselves being bored. Me at this stupid wedding, and you at home. If I'd known it was going to fuck you up this bad, I wouldn't have asked." 

"Right, you could've asked Edd instead." 

"Fuck Edd, I wanted to come with you. You know what, fuck it, let's go to mine and watch shit telly for the rest of the night, it's not worth this." 

"What- but I- we don't-" Jon stuttered. 

"You look like you'd rather die than spend another minute here, so let's go." 

"But Arya," Jon said weakly. 

Tormund shrugged. "We'll say goodbye first. C'mon." Usually when Tormund wanted to drag him around, he put an arm around his shoulders. Right now, he put it around Jon's waist. It didn't seem like he noticed Jon's blush, which was probably a good thing, right? Right. Jon cleared his throat, trying to keep up with Tormund without leaving into him. With Tormund's arm around his waist like it was though, that wasn't an option. They were pretending to be married, so after a moment's hesitation he leaned into him, putting an arm around him in kind so it would stop being in his way. Tormund glanced down at him, then grinned and held him tighter. Jon didn't have the heart to correct him, figuring that he should appreciate the closeness while he could-- not that there was any lack of physical closeness where Tormund was concerned, he was always dragging Jon here or there like it didn't light a little fire in him at every touch. 

"We don't have to go anywhere," Jon said, but he didn't try to escape Tormund's hold again. He sighed when Tormund kept marching forward, determined. "Look, I know I freaked out, but seriously I'm fine. I know you wanted to put on a good face for Brienne, and I promised I'd help you. It's not helping you if we have to leave early because I got caught up in my head for stupid shit. Tormund, stop. I'm fine, I swear." 

"You're not fine." 

"Look at me, I'm good." 

Tormund did give him a cursory glance just to be nice, but it didn't effect his decision at all. "You look fine now, but you didn't a minute ago so we're not staying." 

"Would it kill you to listen to me? Just once or twice?" 

"It might, you never know." 

Jon couldn't really say what was going through his head when he did it. Maybe it was because he was emotionally exhausted, maybe it was because he wanted Tormund to stop arguing with him for once, and maybe it was because Tormund was standing there, looking fucking gorgeous and wild but concerned about him. He got on his tiptoes and yanked Tormund down for a kiss. It was hard and not at all pleasant, but at least it got Tormund to stop and listen to him for a second. "I'm fine. See? I can handle the rest of this, no problem." 

"If you're sure," Tormund said, looking at Jon like he didn't quite believe him but was willing to let it slide for the moment. 

*

Jon stopped himself from thinking. He didn't know he could do that, but he managed it, which kept him calm enough to make it through the rest of the night. Every time it seemed like he was going to freak out, he shifted closer to Tormund or leaned into him. He didn't think about it until the next morning-- hindsight’s twenty/twenty, after all-- but that definitely explained how he'd ended up in bed. With Tormund. Naked. He sat up automatically, blanket falling into his lap as if that would preserve whatever vestiges of dignity he might have left. 

He covered his face with his hands, thinking that he had just proven himself to be the absolute dumbest bastard on the face of the planet. He'd been so nervous last night, and he'd sort of pushed himself into Tormund's space. Every now and then he'd leaned in and kissed him. By the time the party broke up, he was feeling warm and just this side of tipsy to believe it was a good idea to keep kissing Tormund as they left. Tormund had tried to bring him home, but Jon got a hand on his cock and kissed his neck and begged to be brought back to Tormund's instead. Begged. 

Gods he was such a fucking embarrassment, he should live in the mountains with no one else around except wolves and goats. "You okay?" Tormund asked. 

Jon took several deep breaths that did nothing to soothe him, swallowed around the lump in his throat, and said, "Yeah, I'm good." Tormund didn't say anything back, and Jon started to blush, heated shame creeping up his face. He wanted to get the hell out of here, but he wasn't wearing anything. He cast about for his trousers, then spotted them laying a couple feet away. Too far to grab without flashing his arse, and he'd humiliated himself enough in the last day to last a lifetime. Still, he couldn't stay in this bed forever, so he wiggled to the side and contemplated how quickly he'd be able to put them on. If he tried it too fast, he'd probably fall flat on his face and make the whole thing worse. 

"I've seen you naked before," Tormund said drily. "It's nothing I haven't seen." 

"Right. Course," he muttered. This was getting worse by the second, he shouldn't bother trying to stick around in the hopes of making it slightly less bad. What had he been thinking? Of course Tormund had seen him naked before, and even if he hadn't, it's not like Jon was special or some shit. Still, he got up and immediately reached for his trousers, yanking them on. He found his boxers a second later and shoved them in the pocket. He had a shirt around here somewhere- aha! 

Tormund propped himself up on his elbows, impassively watching Jon scramble for clothes. 

"Erm, thanks for the uh- the wedding," Jon said, trying to rebutton the shirt in such a hurry that he had to stop and start over so it wouldn't be lopsided. "It was fun." 

"...yeah. Fun." 

"That bad huh?" Jon said with a self deprecating laugh, running a hand through his hair. 

"What?" 

"I mean, I'm- y'know-" Jon stopped himself there, shaking his head. Desperate. It wasn't really a surprise he was total shite in bed. He remembered moaning a lot, but that didn't mean Tormund had been having a good time. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't heard much of anything from Tormund the whole time. The more noise Jon had made, the harder Tormund had fucked him. Probably just to get it over with so he'd shut up. Gods willing, they'd never talk about this again and in a week, Jon would be able to pretend it had never happened. 

Okay, fuck buttons. Jon snatched his undershirt off the ground and headed for the living room. Thankfully, he'd left his shoes by the door, but his socks were going to be sacrificed for the greater good of getting him the fuck out of here. 

"Jon? Where are you going?" Unlike him, Tormund hadn't bothered to get dressed. 

"Home, where I should've gone last night." 

"I did offer." 

"I know." That just made it worse, because Jon had insisted on spending the night at Tormund's. 

"...right." 

"Don't look at me like that." 

"Like what?" 

"I know I made- made a complete arse of myself, okay?" He tugged his shoes on, wincing at how the inside felt without socks. "You don't have to be all judgmental about it. Although," he said, blowing out a breath, "I guess you can judge me as much as you want. It's not like I could stop you, and I'd deserve it." 

"What the hell are you talking about?" 

Jon paused and looked up at him. Unlike Jon, Tormund wasn't embarrassed in the slightest. Confused maybe, but not embarrassed, not like he was ashamed of what had happened. "Erm, last night. The- the sex." Didn't he remember? It was kind of impossible for him not to know what Jon was talking about. 

"Right. And why would I judge you for that?" 

He refused to say aloud 'because I was shit at it'. "Just forget it." Jon started to open the door, but then Tormund was there, pushing it closed again. 

"I'm gonna ask this once, and if you say yes, you can leave and we'll forget all about it." He waited for Jon to nod in agreement before asking, "Did we hook up because you were horny and I was the closest person?" 

Jon swallowed thickly. "No." 

"Then why the hell are you running away." 

Jon just stared at the doorknob. Tormund's free hand ghosted across his back to his hip, pulling him closer. 

"Gonna kiss me like you mean it? Like you did last night?" he asked, voice a low timber that made Jon shiver. He leaned closer, his mouth close to Jon's ear and his breath heating the skin on his neck. "C'mon Jon, I know you can." 

"You're such an arse," Jon muttered, but he turned and kissed him, yanking Tormund down further so he didn't have to lean up at all. 

Tormund grinned against his mouth, wrapping his arms around Jon and holding him close. "Finally." 

[prettylittlebrownskingyal]

hey sunshine! im sure you've got a ton of requests and truly no pressure at all take your time if you want to do this at all, BUT, could you write about the reader who's either part of the gotham pd or something, like shes' part of the law, and she keeps running into the play-by-his-own-rules-gun-slinging red hood and they don't like each other at all.... or so they says ;)

Note: I really tried for this one but somehow I couldn’t produce anything cohesive. So here are five scenes that I couldn’t weave together but really wanted to.

“Listen here detective— and this is an order— you will not get in his way. Do you understand me?”

Jim Gordon pushed his glasses back up the hooked slope of his nose and fixed you with a no-nonsense glare.

The cold rooftop was chilled under the frigid night wind of Gotham yet you’re whole body burned with obdurate anger. An insane and infantile like voice at the back of your mind urged you to stomp and pout for not getting your way.

You would comply to it if it weren’t for the fact that you’d already been complacent several times during the week and Gordon had elected to ignore each instance. Now though, he had no choice but to put his foot down and somehow that made you want to bend the rules even more.

“But what about—”

“Batman trusts him and I trust Batman.”

This statement was a question of loyalty, neatly packaged in the Commissioner’s stern drawl. He trusted the caped crusader and his bat-lings with the safety of the city, to doubt that trust was almost as bad as outrightly questioning his authority.

That was something you never, ever wished to do. But the ‘him’ in question— the ‘him’ that had been parading around the city in a hood the colour of blood, the ‘him’ that crawled under your skin and irritated every atom in your body— that ‘him’ almost made you beg to differ.

“I don’t trust him.”

Gordon sighed. He shook his head and softened his gaze as he met your eyes. “He hasn’t messed up yet. Why not give him a chance?”

“I—”

“Oh,” came a heavy, almost robotic voice from behind you. “Are you guys talking about me?”

The Red Hood was propped casually against the side of the bat-signal, helmeted head cocked to the side and gloved fingers sliding over the safety of one of his guns.

“Detective, we’ll finish this discussion later. Go home.”

Your gall deflated, with a pursed lip and defiant eye roll you stalked by the negligent idiot that had— in the space of seven days— become the biggest thorn in your side.

In the absence of Batman, Nightwing and Robin, the city’s safety fell under the jurisdiction of the Red Hood and his guns. While he was adamant that he’d turned a new leaf, something about him made your skin prickle with the likelihood of peril.

Every passing day, the hooded vigilante had staked claim on every crime scene you were assigned to. He was quick and defiant and he had every no-good low life already tied down and ready for arrest by the time you showed up. No matter how fast you sped towards the scene, he was always there first. It was irritating beyond measure and no matter what you did, you couldn’t shake the image of him out of your head.

Though you’d never admit it, a needling little part of you was jealous. It was a putrid, green stain that ran over your skin like spilt ink and soured your demeanour towards him.

****

“Nice garters,” you snipped. Here he was again, wiping a blood stain off his knuckles with a dirty scrap of fabric, two hogtied thugs sitting unconscious behind him.

“Always knew you had a thing for my thighs, doll.”

“Call me that again and I’ll castrate you.”

He dropped his voice an octave, “Kinky, I like it.”

“I hate you.”

“Really? We haven’t even dated yet.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and counted to ten. When you cracked an eye open and found the urge to punch him still lingering in your stomach, you took a deep breath a counted to twenty.

“Just tell me what you found and then get out of my sight.”

“Maroni’s boys, drugs and money” he listed each thing off on long fingers. “Their boss clearly has plans for something because this is the third time this week we’ve busted them.”

“You think these are just miniature- trojan horses?”

“Sure, we can call it that.” You could hear the smile in the voice as he answered. “I’ll find out what they're up to and take care of it.”

“No. Absolutely not,” you protested.

“Look rookie, I get it. You want to serve justice and all that, but you’ve only been on this force for— what? a year— you can’t just waltz in here and expect to take down the mob.”

“Watch me.”

“No, absolutely not,” he parroted. Through the modulator he used, it sounded more like a warning. “Now, unless you want to be violently murdered. Stay out of this. I promise you that I’ll get the job done.”

****

The call on a hostage situation came near the break of dawn, and of course with your luck, the only available person to save the helpless citizens is the last asshole you wanted to lay eyes on.

“I know what I’m doing,” he said, shrugging off the careful instructions you’d been offering to him.

“And I’m not disputing that. I’m simply making a suggestion.”

He spat a laugh snidely. “Do you know who I am?”

You’ve got your hands on your hips, head cocked to the side and mouth pulled over bared teeth; you’re ready to chew him up and spit him out for being difficult.

“Look here bird boy.” You stepped forward again, and he took a step back, waist hitting concrete. “I don’t care who you are, but if you’re not careful tonight, a lot of people could die. Gordon— for some reason—  trusts you, and I trust him. So don’t screw up.”

With that, you whipped around and left him standing alone on the slick pavement.

“Thanks for the tip rookie!”

If you flipped him the bird and ran away, no one needed to know.

*****

Your campaign into Maroni and his agenda landed you into a few sticky situations. You wiggled your way out of them just fine, taking down as many of his men as you could each time. But just like the Hood had said, each attempt to solve the case placed a big target on your back and made it more and more dangerous for you to do your job. You could almost hear his dumb robot voice chiming “I told you so,” as you stared death in the face.

You frowned as he untied the ropes binding your wrists together, anxiously awaiting his unbearable ribbing.

“What the hell did I say, rookie?” is what you got instead. The genuine concern in his tone threw you off guard.

“I don’t recall. The auto-tune thingy really makes it hard for me to take you seriously.”

He slid to the side to give you room to stand, heavy boots thudding against the rickety floors as he stepped over the piles of passed out bodies around him.

“You could have died.”

“Yeah but I didn’t”

He heaved a breathy sigh that made a grating sound through the hood. “You’re never going to listen to me are you?”

*****

“Normal people don’t take bullets for other people!” You swung a balled fist at his face, rage a boiling, furious pit in your stomach that threatened to overflow as your hand met one of his gloved ones.

“Normal people are usually thankful when they're saved from being shot,” he countered. “And are you insane? You’ll break your wrist.”

“What do you know about normal, masked man?” you spat. “Lose the hood and take a punch like a normal man.”

“Fine.”

He clicked a button and the front of the helmet opened with a hiss to reveal a picture of tawny skin, a mess of dark hair and a pink mouth pulled into a smirk. A domino mask shielded his eyes, but there was no doubt in your mind that if you pulled it away, you’d find amusement there at the sharp catch in your breath.

“Well,” you started, trying to cover up the sound of your own pounding heart. “You’re uglier than I’d thought you’d be.”

The smirk morphed into a smile the displayed pearly white bunny teeth and a dimple. Suddenly your irritation with the Red Hood grew as the threat of infatuation dangled right there on his stupid face.

“Is that the reason for the uptick in your pulse, rookie?”

With the hand he had wrapped around your wrist, he gives a firm squeeze down onto your veins with his forefingers. There, the rapid pump of blood under your skin was a dead give away.

“You really piss me off, you know.”

“I know.” He laughed and with the slight shake of his head, a little white curl of hair feel down across his forehead and sparked the urge to play with his hair beneath your fingers. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Shut up.”

Being this close to him felt like playing with fire. But the more you inhaled his cologne, the more you focused on the hand on your skin or the tiny scar on his lip-- the more you were willing to burn.

Slowly, surely deliberately, he uttered the words; “Make. Me.”

You kissed him before he could kiss you, straining as you went up on your toes and wrapped your arms around his neck. As he slid the hand on your wrist up to your arm and then to your neck to pull you closer, you threaded your fingers through that endearing little curl of white hair and tugged.

“I win.”

[jimlingss]

Jungle Park [2]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

➜ Words: 6.4k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Light Humour (?), Slice of Life, Workplace Romance!AU

➜ Summary: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

➜ Warnings: swearing

The stack of applications sits on the edge of his desk untouched.   Hoseok’s been up to his neck in work, dealing with files that have accumulated and clients that come in screaming about the latest crazy thing their soon-to-be-ex spouse did. In all honesty, he completely forgot about hiring an HR person and he let himself forget since frankly, he couldn’t care less about the entire ordeal. That is...until his partner comes stomping into his office.   “You haven’t hired anyone yet?!”   “What?” Hoseok looks up from his computer. “Hire who?”   “Oh my god. You one brain celled man!” Jimin laments dramatically before flopping down in the seat across from Hoseok’s own chair. He lugs his stack of paper onto his desk, dropping his briefcase and sighing tiredly. “I told you to hire someone for HR, remember?”   “Oh, right, that,” he mutters from the corner of his mouth, closing the document he was working on and hopping to another.   “Yes, that.” Jimin takes the stack of applications that are piled on top of the other folders and he flips through them. “You’re supposed to pick someone, remember? You even interviewed them.”   “Uh-huh.” Hoseok turns several pages, eyes burning at the tiny black text and slivers of white between them. “Haven’t had the time to think about it. It’s not a priority.”   “Well it should be.” Jimin purses his lips and skims the résumé from the top. “How about this person? Kwon Suwoong? Graduated in 2013 with a masters in psychology and he’s worked in an HR position before.”   “I don’t like his personality,” Hoseok says from the corner of his mouth. “Seems flaky to me.”   “Okay. What about this person? Park Jihyo. Straight out of university and looks like she has a ton of volunteer experiences.” The younger man nods with a hum. “She went abroad for a year building schools and houses.”   “She’s too idealistic,” Hoseok notes. “Too energetic, too many ideas, gives me a headache.”   Jimin sighs and files through the stack of applications, ignoring some as well. It seems like his partner has a complaint about every single person and it’s only until he lands on a specific one that seems to warrant no protests. “How about Y/N?”   Hoseok looks up from his papers, away from his computer. Jimin’s lips are pouted as he reads your paper. “Solid education, a lot of odd previous jobs…..” His pupils flicker to the male across from him when he hears no whining. “What do you think?”   “She’s….weird.”   His brow lifts in curiosity. “What do you mean?”   “I don’t know.” Hoseok doesn’t try to explain himself. “I feel like she’ll give me a headache too.”   The corner of Jimin’s lips tug and he puts the stack down before settling into the seat. “Is there anyone who won’t give you a headache? If you can’t pick anyone, then I choose this person. Give her a call and let her know she got the job, alright?”   “Ugh.” He leans back in his swivel chair, staring at the ceiling. “Can’t you call instead?”   “Nope.” Jimin pops the last syllable with a massive grin, getting up and before he slips out the room, his head still pokes through the doorway. “You call. And also, make sure to train her, show her around and introduce her to everyone. We want to make our new HR manager feel welcome, don’t we?”   The lawyer behind the desk pinches the bridge of his nose, already feeling the thumps at his temples, the onset sign of a new headache coming to welcome his day.

An entire week passed.   You accepted reality — you just weren’t going to get the job. And you even went to the public library to print another stack of résumés to continue your job hunt. But when you get the phone call, the very same one you had been dreaming of, while you were walking to the sad strip mall, you quite literally screamed.   Hoseok scowled, peeling the phone away from his ear, and you apologized profusely.   The very next day, you went back to the firm with freshly ironed clothes.   “Welcome to the team.” The handsome dark-haired male greets you at the front with a slight smile and nod. Your hands are shaking, but instead of nervousness, this time it’s from sheer excitement. He exhales and glances at his watch. “I’ll show you around and help you get settled.”   “That would be great, thank you.” Immediately, he begins without a breath to spare. You try your best to keep up with his wide strides, quickening your steps as you trail after his shadow, heels already beginning to pinch your toes.   “As you know we’re a divorce law firm that’s been running for four years,” he tells you as he makes his way down the hall and you nod, having done your research beforehand. “Jimin and I are partners. I am the primary litigator and I take care of running the logistics of the firm while Jimin is in charge of mediation which we get more cases for. So, you’ll probably see me go to court more often. The rest of this office is split between supporting either me or Jimin.”   “O-okay.” You’re not used to such a fast pace and your mind is already swirling with information.   Hoseok approaches the first set of cubicles on the floor. “This is our legal assistants which is the same thing as a paralegal, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Kang Seulgi, and….where’s Sebin?”   A blonde man pushes his seat back so his face is seen past the high cubicle wall. He’s strikingly handsome, full cheeks and rounded eyes. “She went to go mail something for Jimin.” His pupils flicker up and down to you, a smile pulling on his pink plump lips. “And who is this?”   “This is your new HR representative,” Hoseok introduces with an impassive tone.   “Hello.” You bow your head and shake hands with the brunette male closer to you. He pushes his rounded spectacles up, dimples pressed cutely on both sides of his cheeks. “My name is Y/N. Nice to meet you.”   The girl sitting across from him, hidden behind a giant stack of boxes moves until you see her. “Jin, can you not be greasy towards the new girl? It’s kind of really disgusting.” She turns towards you with her arm extended. Her monolid eyes are cat-like, but they crinkle cutely when you shake her hand. “I’m Seulgi, nice to meet you. Trust me, you’ll want to steer clear of all the men here.”   “Hey! What did I ever do?!” The blonde whines in a higher pitch tone. “I literally just said hi!”   “Yeah, but you were all like ‘who is this’?” She mimics his tone, dropping a pitch, extending the syllables and sounding purposely sleazy. You have to hold back a laugh, put more at ease when they’re bickering back and forth like this.   “I did not sound like that!” Jin defends himself.   Namjoon sighs and puts down his glasses. “Can we not start this? It’s not even ten o’clock yet.”   But your nervousness isn’t completely dispelled, not when Hoseok is already beginning to nudge you in a different direction. “Alright, alright. Get back to work before we fire you. You can do more in-depth meet and greet later. Namjoon, the draft to opposing counsel should be on my desk in the next half-hour.”   You can barely bid goodbye before you’re led to the next cubicle, weaving between high stacks of boxes of files and papers. Hoseok gestures towards three different people. “This is our accountants, Hyuk and Inyoung. And Jungkook here is our articling student. He’s a lawyer in training and should officially join the team in a few months.”   They’re a more shy bunch than the legal assistants. The dark-haired boy seems the youngest of the entire group, giving you a slight nod and smile. His doe eyes are big, almost reminding you of a deer in headlights. On the other hand, the woman sitting across from him in the cubicle set tucks her light hair behind her ear, greeting you happily and the man beside her seems to stare at you for an extra long time, his eyes flickering up and down your frame that makes you feel slightly uncomfortable.   Hoseok doesn’t pay any attention to the little introductions and then he continues to parade you around, pointing to the kitchen and the bathroom and a few of the offices. He walks down the hall and then lets out a loud ‘ahem’ when he notices the crowd at the water cooler.   He crosses his arms and makes himself known. “Is there not any work to do?”   “Oh come on, Hoseok.” An older lady turns around, wrinkles around her face creased when she grins at him. She brushes a loose curl from her updo away from her face, blazer hugging her curves, red-stained lips curling at the sight of you. “We’re just curious about the new hire. And this must be her?”   “I’m Y/N.” You smile at the four of them. “Nice to meet you.”   “Thank god, you’re here.” A younger girl approaches you, abandoning her cup of water on top of the cooler, and she grasps your hands while her eyes glimmer. “We need you here so badly.”   “Let her breathe, Sunyi.” A short man with black hair narrows his eyes onto you before they soften in curiosity. His cheeks puff out, lips naturally pouted. “You’re too goddamn suffocating.”   “Okay, fuck you, Yoongi.” She spins around on her heel, cussing him out.   “Hey!” The man standing next to Yoongi with caramel hair takes a few steps closer to you. “That’s no way to speak in front of such a gorgeous lady. You’re so uncultured.” His boxy grin appears as he suavely shakes your hand, making you lose your breath. “I’m Kim Taehyung, it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you.”   “Ew.” Sunyi shoves him out of the way, bumping shoulders with the man. “You’re worse than Jin is. I’m Lee Sunyi, slave of Hoseok and Jimin. Also known as one of the lawyers here.”   “You’re so dramatic.” The person lingering behind her rolls her eyes. “I’m Min Yoongi. Lawyer. We’re all lawyers here. Nice to meet you.”   The other woman introduces herself as Kye Naul. The group seems to take interest in you, about to ask where you’re from or what you’ll be doing here, but Hoseok takes a glance at his watch, sighs, and pushes them out of the way. “Okay, get back to work. We have business to attend to. You can ask what you want later.”   “You should loosen up,” Taehyung notes before dashing off.   “I’ll loosen up when we get work done,” he grumbles back to the other. Naul saunters off, Taehyung tosses a wink and Sunyi a sweet smile. Hoseok continues to walk down the hall and your mind is dizzy with names and introductions, not sure you can remember it all. It’s overwhelming to say the least and doesn’t help when your boss continues—   “Including Jimin and I, there are fifteen people here in total. Two receptionists, four legal assistants, five lawyers counting Jungkook, and two accountants. Jimin’s out right now but you can meet him later. He’ll probably swing by.”   Hoseok pushes open the last door in the corner of where the two halls meet and you’re met with a tiny room. There’s one small window at the back covered by broken blinds, one cramped desk and one metal drawer unit. The door itself is slim and the walls are gray, space minuscule, making it seem like a…   “This was originally a storage closet,” the lawyer states. “We emptied it out for you. It’s your office now.”   “Oh..okay…” You nod, taking it all in even when there’s not much to take in. It’s a bit disheartening to know you’ll be operating in a place that used to be a closet, but the more you look at it, the more you consider it’s not too terrible. You’ve worked in worse conditions.   Hoseok glances at his watch. “I should go now.”   “Um-” You quickly turn around, catching his attention. When he stares at you intensely, you feel yourself grow small, muttering out the words, “Is there something you’d like me to do?”   “Something to do?” He frowns and his lips part as if searching for an answer. “Get yourself settled in first.”   “Alright.” You nod, mouth pulling into a smile. “Thank y—”   “No problem,” Hoseok says before you can interrupt and he’s off like he has better places to be. You’re left standing in the small space, staring at his backside until it gets smaller. Then you turn towards your closet office, exhaling tiredly and wondering where to even begin.   //   When left to your own devices, the first thing you do is clean. You manage to find a few rags under the kitchen sink and you go to town. Every surface is scrubbed with cleaning solution or water. You get rid of the grime in all the closet corners, cleaning the cobwebs that accumulate near the ceiling, bidding farewell to dust bunnies. With the strength you’ve accumulated from going to the gym once every year, you pull the wooden desk and all its wires to the corner so it faces the open door. You also tug the cabinet beside it, creating an open space for others to enter.   Once you sit down in the swivel chair, turning on the computer you were given, you realize there’s nothing for you to do. You lean back, deciding to rest a bit, pondering how your clothes became this wrinkly and how you’re going to salvage your sweaty face. But then you realize how awfully plain this room is.   There are grey walls.   And it’s empty.   You’re not sure if you’re just free to leave or if you’ll get deducted pay. Taking a peek around, you find Jimin’s office empty and Hoseok’s door is shut tight, a visible sign that he shouldn’t be disturbed. Debating if you need to ask for permission, you end up deciding to just fuck it.   During lunch, you slip out of the office, walking down the street to a few shopping centers.   By the end of the day, you have a new teal rug, light yellow curtains on the windows, a high school poster of encouragement stuck on the wall along with a vibrant calendar, picture frames on your desk that are yet to be filled, and a cute plant on the corner of your desk. More importantly, you place a welcome sign on the door and under it lays a welcome mat.   Your pocket hurts, but one look around tells you it’s all worth it.   This will become your second home after all.   //   The atmosphere of the office is tense. By the time everyone’s arrived, the sound of working fills the area — photocopier whirring, coffee machine running nonstop, phones ringing, the sound of keys typing echoing off the walls, papers being flipped, one or two murmurs spoken before it’s silenced down. No one seems to notice your presence at all. You could slip out all day if you wanted to, like yesterday, but you have a job to do.   And you’re going to make sure you do it goddamn well.   “Is that….cookies?” Seokjin stops in his tracks and pops his head through your door, his nose sniffing the air. His eyes immediately land on the two plates on your desk and how they’re still steaming.   “Yeah, I woke up early this morning and had some time, so I did some baking…”   Jin nods and clears his throat. “Uh, is it okay if I, um, have one?’”   “Yes! Of course!” You gesture towards your bait. “Feel free! I made them for people to enjoy!”   Exactly according to plan, he nods with a smile and enters your office to take a cookie. He bites and then his eyes light up. “Wow, this is really, really good. Can I have one more?”   “Sure.” You smile. “I wouldn’t know what to do with the leftovers anyways. Feel free to sit down.” The blonde man innocently plops down in the seat across from you and he swallows a mouthful as you watch him attentively, hands folded underneath your chin. “Is everything going okay?”   “Yeah, not bad,” he says.   “It is always this busy?” You casually ask with a smile, still amazed with the amount of productivity around here, despite the tense atmosphere.   “Yeah.” Jin laughs. “We can be swamped up to our chins in work. Sometimes, I even forget to have lunch, it gets so bad.”   Your brows raise and there’s a note of surprise in your voice. “Really?”   He pauses from taking another bite. “Wait. I’m not going to get in trouble, right?”   “What do you mean?”   Jin leans closer to you from across the desk, dropping down to a whisper as his pupils flicker outside for a moment. “I mean, I think you’re really nice, Y/N. I also think it’s awesome that you’re here and a part of our team. But there are...some people who don’t like gossip or anyone talking badly about the office.”   Your expression washes over until it’s indignant. “You mean Hoseok?”   That would also explain why everyone around here seems to be wary of you. The receptionists were whispering in the kitchen when you went to get coffee and you hadn’t gotten any visitors yesterday or this morning until you pulled out the cookies. You wonder if people are afraid of Hoseok or just respect him too much….probably a mix of both.   Seokjin puts his palms up and gives a small, squeaky giggle. “You said it, not me.”   “You won’t get into any trouble,” you reassure him with the utmost confidence. “Everything you say to me is confidential….unless you have plans to do something illegal.”   “I don't.” He grins at your smile and then adds, “not yet.”   “Good.” You laugh, easing the person across from you. “My door is always open and you can talk to me about anything you’d like, any problem you might have with the office or anyone in it. Any issue you have, I’ll make sure it becomes addressed. It’s what I’m being paid for after all.”   Jin quirks his head to one side, hand slipping on top of your desk towards another chocolate chip cookie as if you wouldn’t notice his sly movements. “Thanks, Y/N. I really appreciate that. It’s nice to know someone has our backs.”   “You’re welcome.”   It’s taking a bit of time for you to become adjusted to your job and truly understand the dynamics of this place. But it’s not long before you receive another knock and there’s someone else at your doorway.   “Hey…” Another legal assistant makes her way inside your office with a bit of hesitancy. You remember her from her unique and pretty eyes, Seulgi. She’s fairly cute as well, her skirt and blouse ensemble matching, and her brunette hair slightly waved. “I heard your door was open?”   “It is.” You switch off the monitor of your computer to give your full attention to your new guest. “Welcome!”   “Oh my god, I love what you did with the place.” She notices a snow globe on top of the cabinet that you had taken from home. The girl ogles at the posters and calendars, observing the difference in curtains as well and how it lets in a lot more sunlight. “It’s cute, looks a lot better than how it used to. Doesn’t even look like a storage closet anymore.”   “Thanks. Had to spend a fortune, but I think it was worth it. I also nabbed a lot of things on sale, like I replenished my washi tape supply.” You tug open your drawer, dumping it a handful on your desk. Seulgi gasps and falls into the seat across from you.   “These are so adorable!” She holds up a pink lace washi tape and you mentally cheer for noticing her cute stationary when you were introduced to her yesterday. “I can never find cheap good ones like these. Where did you get them?”   “The store down the avenue.” You smile at her enthusiasm. “You want to have them?”   “What? Are you sure?” Seulgi stares at you with giant eyes and you tell her to go ahead since it’s not like you have much use for them. She murmurs something about only taking five of them and begins to go through the pile, abandoning a stack of files on the other chair as she chooses.   “Is there anything that you’d like me to do for you?” you ask her as she’s preoccupied. “Any way you’d like me to improve the office?”   The female hums and sits straight, her thin lips pressing together. She seems to consider if she should open up to you or not, but then she looks at your earnest expression and the washi tape, and decides why not. “Well, sometimes Hoseok can be…..I don’t know. He’s a great boss and all and good at his job, but there are times he makes us stay late and doesn’t tell us until an hour beforehand.”   “Oh, I see…”   “And there are times he calls us on the weekend and I get that it’s a tough job and he needs help, but it’s the weekend.” She rolls her eyes and doesn’t even bother to keep quiet as her blood begins to boil. “He just tells us we should get there in an hour! So I have to drop everything and go and he doesn’t even say ‘thank you’ when it’s done! My god!”   It’s progress. If no one will give you work, you’ll find work.   More people come through your office, sitting down, chatting, getting to know you and you getting to know who they are. Lots of people are apprehensive, not sure if they can trust you. But you ease them and have a fun time learning who they are.   And then there are some people who don’t require any coaxings at all.   “Y/N?” Another woman you recognize as Sunyi knocks on your door. She’s in her coat, handbag slung on her shoulder and other arm holding onto a thick file folder. “Do you have a second?”   “Yes, of course,” you give a warm welcome to your new visitor.   The lawyer sighs and heaves her folder on your desk, falling into the chair across from yours lifelessly. “I thought I’d stop by before going to lunch. Oh, cookies, nice!” She grabs one and chews thoughtfully before sending an approving look.   Little do people know, you just used premade cookie batter.   Your hands fold on top of the smooth surface of your desk. “What can I do for you?”   “A lot,” she laughs genuinely. “I don’t even know where to begin. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time. This is probably the best decision Jung and Park have ever made.”   You laugh as well, nodding. “Well, feel free. I have a lot of time on my hands right now.”   “Where to start, where to start,” she mutters underneath her breath before sighing, putting down the rest of her cookie and dusting off her hands. “Okay, if it’s possible, I’d like to file an official complaint about Min Yoongi. He’s a prick. He chews really loudly when others are trying to work. Like, he brings in carrots with dip and potato chips into meetings and it’s highly distracting. Also, there are problems with his hygiene. The man doesn’t shower and thinks axe body spray is enough to cover his stench! News flash — this isn’t high school! He smells like a bag of rotten eggs left in the sun.”   You don’t have any complaint forms yet, so you grab sticky notes, frantically writing down her complaints which are endless. She grieves on and on about Yoongi’s working habits, eating habits, breathing habits. And as amused as you become listening to her stories, you find she is more relaxed as she continues her rant.   “Oh and Hoseok.” Sunyi slumps over your desk, groaning into her palms. “Can he please stop calling me one minute before five o’clock? It’s time for me to leave, but he always drags me in for another long ass meeting and I don’t get to leave until six. He’s so goddamn uptight.”   “I know right,” you agree with a laugh. “I think he makes everyone anxious around here.”   “Right?!” She snaps her fingers, lighting up when the words come out of your mouth. “Finally, someone understands me!”   Even if Hoseok doesn’t give you the warmest welcome, everyone else does. By the time lunchtime is over, there are people entering your office, requesting your help with their problems. You don’t even get a chance to sit down or breathe. But you really wouldn’t have it any other way. You thrive on face-to-face interaction with others, of hearing their stories and listening to what they have to say. It’s not only interesting, but you like to help and feel needed.   “It’s not even the second day yet.” There’s a grumble from a tall dark-haired male. He sips on his coffee, eyes pierced past the white rim and glaring into your office from down the hall. From where he stands, in front of his own office, he can catch the corner of your room, mainly where your desk and computer is. “People are already wasting their time gossiping.”   “Lighten up, Hope.” Jimin pats his friend’s back, utilizing the old nickname with a squeaky giggle and cheeky smile, eyes crinkled into half moons. “Why so serious? Where did the hyper ball of sunshine go?”   “This is a professional setting,” Hoseok reminds his partner. “I’m just trying to do my job and the others should too.”   “It’s not like you’re getting any work done either.” The shorter man slips away, shooting a tiny wink. “Maybe you should go over there and talk to her instead of staring all day.”   If possible, Hoseok’s frown becomes deeper.   Right as you get a chance to collect yourself and organize all the sticky notes you have, there’s yet another knock on your door. You whip your head up, but it’s one of the last people you were expecting. Immediately, you rise to your feet, chair shifting back, hands gripping the hem of your blazer. “Good afternoon, Mr. Park.”   “Oh please, sit.” He gestures and takes a seat across from you as well, throwing one leg over the other. Though you’ve yet to officially meet your other boss, in passing and through pictures, he always seems to be the kinder one of the two. Even now, the man had a warm smile and cute eyes directed towards you, running a hand through the brown mess of hair. “And call me Jimin. It sounds too formal to call me by my last name. Same thing with Hoseok. Mr. Jung is his dad, not him. If he tells you to call him that, then tattle to me and I’ll make sure to punch him.”   “Okay.” You nod, feeling calm from his soft-spoken words and returning his smile.   “How are you settling down?” His hands are clasped and Jimin takes one sweep of your office with his eyes. “I love what you did with the place. It’s cozy. Nothing’s been too hard, right?”   “No.” You shake your head. “Honestly, everything’s been great. I like everyone here, just getting used to things a bit more.”   The lawyer hums and then takes a peek outside, finding that his partner has disappeared. “Did Hoseok help you with introductions and orientation?”   “Yeah, well...umm..” You twiddle with your fingers. “He did, but I was wondering if there was something specific that you’d like me to do? If...there are official conflict forms you’d like me to fill out or if there are any binders I should have on office safety.”   His brows raise. “Did he give you none of that?”   “No, not really.” You give a sheepish smile, momentarily looking at your stack of sticky notes that have a bunch of scribbles on them. All Hoseok did was briefly pass names around and then he threw you in this closet with an old computer.   “Well, ask him again.” Jimin nods. “Hoseok acts as our office manager as well, so if there are forms you need, he’ll have them or can find some and help you print it out. It’s actually great that you’re here since you can help him out. Aside from that, I know you’ll be doing a lot of conflict resolution — it’s one of the main reasons why we hired you, since there’s so much conflict in this office. Any other specifics about your job, ask Hoseok.”   “Alright.”   “To be frank.” Jimin leans in closer with a mischievous smile. “You’re my white knight.”   The corner of your mouth tugs. “What do you mean?”   “You’re saving me,” your supposed boss tells you and in this moment, he feels more like a friend sharing a secret than anything. “You’re doing the job I don’t want to do. I got tired of handling problems around here, so I made Hoseok hire someone.”   “Well I’m glad to save the day then.” You laugh before hesitating on the next thing you want to admit as well. “But….”   “What?”   You lean in closer, exchanging your own whispers. “Hoseok doesn’t like me, right?”   The man across from you leans back in his chair in giggles, laughing and covering his mouth with the palm of his hand. “Why would you think that?”   “I can just tell.” Your shoulders shrug. “He keeps glaring at me.”   Jimin grins. “He’ll warm up to you.”   You smile sheepishly. “Probably.”   //   With what Jimin said in mind, you scrape up enough courage to finally stand up and knock on the door down the hall. It’s nerve wracking and simply rapping your knuckles on the wooden surface has all cells in your body screaming. It would be best if you were to stay far, far away from Hoseok. He not only intimidates the hell out of you, but makes you nervous beyond belief.   Still, you grow some balls and go for it.   “Who is it?”   You crack open the door, pushing your nose and one eye through the sliver. Hoseok is at his desk, a swamp of boxes and papers and files surrounding him. He’s tapping on the keys of his computer and scribbling something on a notepad at the same time. Never once does he look at you.   “Um, is now a good time?”   “It’s never a good time,” he says with a sigh. “What do you need?”   “I just..uh...wanted to ask a few things.” You slide into the room quietly, watching how he’s hard at work. His hair is in a disarray, tie loosened, black blazer abandoned at the back of his chair, white dress shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. You feel pride blooming in your chest, for someone you once knew who became so successful. Oddly enough, you feel proud of him.   “What is it?” Hoseok breaks you out of your trance and you clear your throat.   “Um, I think I’m missing a few forms and a few binders…? Also, I was wondering if I could get my nameplate. It’s obviously not important, but I thought I’d just ask.” Your voice trails off until it becomes quiet and you cringe at how you always lose your composure in front of him. “And I wanted to know if you have any specific tasks for me.”   “Ask the legal assistants and they can help you find whatever forms you want. There aren’t any binders since we’ve never had an HR department before, but there might be something from when this place opened up. Check the cabinet drawers at accounting. Tell reception to order a nameplate for you and…”   Hoseok finally lifts his chin and he frowns, thinking hard. “Why don’t you write a staff handbook?”   It’s as if you’re a child and he’s making up things for you to do, so you can just leave him alone.   “A staff handbook?”   “Yes,” he says and it’s like he’s talking to himself. Hoseok nods a few times. “We don’t have anything for our employees and new ones like you. It would be nice to have something that states our firm’s policies, mission statements, our culture and procedures.”   “Uh…” You wonder how you’re going to write something like that when you have no idea what this firm stands for. But you decide to not say anything in case you upset him. All you manage is an— “okay…”   “Alright. Sounds good.” He returns back to his work, expecting you to waltz out here, satisfied.   Except, you linger.   He feels his headache worsen, but pretends not to see you. Maybe if he concentrates hard enough, you’ll just vanish into thin air and leave him in peace. But of course, that would be irrational.   “Uh…” You take a step closer to his desk, hesitating, but never once backing down. “One more thing.”   “What.”   “I would like to conduct a survey.” There’s a pause and you decide to spit the rest out while you have a chance. “I just would really like to know what everyone’s thoughts are. It would be a simple survey, asking how they feel about their safety and their comfort levels and the environment. I could see what improvements or adjustments to make. It would just help and could benefit all parties involved. It would only take five minutes tops. It’s really quick…..…..please?”   If looks could kill, Jung Hoseok would have you buried six feet under by five o’clock today.   //   Everyone is actually delighted. Instead of getting started on work that’ll last for the next eight hours, the first thing they get to do this morning is join you in the conference room. It’s your first real meeting, thirteen people gathered around the table and staring at you. But you reassure yourself and begin handing out the surveys and the pencils, letting everyone know to take their time and that every submission will be confidential.   They’re pretty happy to sip on their morning brew and write smack about each other, on the firm, and on Hoseok for you to read.   “We’re losing control,” said man mutters from the corner of his mouth towards his partner. His arms are crossed and eyes are narrowed past the glass of the conference room, glaring at each person who has a smile on their face.   “You’re too dramatic.” Jimin laughs and takes a drink of his coffee. “We’re not losing control. You’re just learning to micromanage less. Plus, doesn’t this shake things up a bit? It’s fun and different. Maybe I should fill a survey out too.”   “You’re the boss of this place too, idiot.” The corner of Hoseok’s lips tug, unable to help his tiny smile that breaks the serious exterior.   The shorter man only smacks his lips several times, savouring the bitter taste on his tongue and feeling more awake as time ticks by. “Well, I obviously don’t wear the pants of this place.”   “These pants are being set on fire...” Hoseok nudges his chin over to where you’re standing in front of the room, helping Namjoon who’s probably clarifying one of the questions. “...by that HR girl.”   “Her name is Y/N,” Jimin chides with a mischievous smile.   Hoseok sighs.   //   When you see the results of the survey, you sigh as well….several times...enough for your lungs to probably burst.   “What’s going on?” If the productivity of the firm was measured, this would’ve hit an all time low. Everybody was currently gathered outside of Hoseok’s office, unable to take a peek in when the blinds are drawn. There seems to be bickering and yelling seeping from the crack of the door and even Jimin is standing next to Yoongi, an amused smile on his face while the rest are either snickering, shocked or entertained.   The sound of work ceases to exist.   “Y/N is arguing with Hoseok,” Naul tells Seulgi with a few cackles of her own. “That girl got steel balls on her.”   “Oh my god.” Seulgi presses her ear to the wall. “No way…”   Inside, you’re absolutely exasperated and Hoseok is ready to hurl you out the window.   “These are terrible results!” You can’t believe it and the absurdness of it all is making you hysterical. “Where are the safety requirements of this office? Does it even exist? And you know you can’t overwork these people! There are no vacation times and their pay is low!”   “Low?!” He scoffs and knocks back his head. “If you think it’s low then what I make is low too! If someone has a problem with their pay, then they should directly come talk to me and we’ll deal with it!”   “Obviously everyone feels too threatened to come and talk to you!”   “We run a business, not a charity.” He gets up, hands on his hips and he turns towards the city view windows before spinning back on his heel to face you. It’s not like him to lose composure like this and he’s not sure how you can get under his skin so easily. “I knew this was a bad idea. I knew it. They’re using this as leverage to complain and whine and not do any work.”   “These are legitimate concerns.” You slap the results of the survey on his desk, refusing to waver or become intimidated. “If you care about these people, then you’d care about this too. I’m just trying to do my job.”   “And I’m trying to do mine!”   “But you listen to no one but yourself.”   “I can’t do this anymore.” Hoseok shakes his head and shouts for his partner’s help— “Jimin!”   “Fine.” You throw your hands up. “If you want to be this way, let’s talk with someone who’s more rational. Jimin!”

The screams of Jimin’s name and oncoming steps makes said man run in the opposite direction. Jimin sprints down the hall, darting past cubicles and offices, sliding right through the elevators doors that were beginning to close. Gone.