#then suffered for way too long trying to upload them

[wonderlandsakura]

It's not mother's day, but I have a sequel!

Marcus and Alice wearing matching Mom and Dad shirts cos they're co-parenting their zoo :)

Sorry about the horrible drawing of a baby, I tried :/

Also no they're not together, they're just co-parenting and Alice pays for everything and also owns the house, so she's dad, deadbeat dad

Bonus under the cut :>

That's tea not coffee btw

A T-shirt I wish I had cause I pseudo/mentally adopt all the dumbass boys

Yes, Marcus also counts as an adopted child :3

Maternal figures come in all shapes and sizes...

Sometimes even genders!

[ganggangscenarios]

Diamond Heart

Part 2

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: You finally decide to utilise your gym membership. Personal trainer!Jungkook

Genre: Romance, comedy, smut, angst

Warnings: Body image. Negative language. Heavy smut scene at the end.

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This is the second time I've uploaded this story. The first time, I received some pretty mean comments and messages. SOOOOOO I have to say, if you don't like. my writing, that's fine, just exit my page lol. Do not leave mean comments please.

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New year, new you, right? Your new years resolution was to get your body right, eat healthily, drink less and most importantly; get in the gym. However, it had been months since the new year had begun and you still hadn’t utilised your gym membership. The fee was regularly from your bank account every month and you had yet to step foot into the establishment. You frowned every time you saw the transaction on your bank statement, but you did absolutely nothing about it. 

But the influence of  social media made you feel like you wanted to try and be a gym girlie. So you took your gym bag  to work, placed It under your desk so you didn’t have any excuse not to go. Plus, the gym was quite literally in your work building. 

You sigh change into untouched gym clothes that you had bought all the way back at the end of December, preparing for your new year’s resolution. Shame rushes over your body as you tear the tags from the tight fitting clothes and chuck them into the sanitary bin next to the toilet. Huffing and puffing you slide your socked feet into new exercise shoes. Stuffing your work clothes into the bag, you exit the bathroom stall and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You didn’t look too bad, you looked like someone who was ready to workout. If you looked the part, you could play the part. 

Lugging the bag over your shoulder, you head to the gym. 

It was pretty empty, you were surprised, as the majority of colleagues held a membership, considering all employees got a ten percent discount as your employers owned the building.

You guess that people don’t usually come straight from work, they most likely go home and come back. But not everyone suffers from severe procrastination like you do. 

Heading to the changing rooms, to put your bag away, you pass a very good looking man, you almost trip over as your eyes stick to him. He dressed in a baggy white shirt and shorts, his feet adorned in similar shoes to yours. His hair was cut in a cool way, it was kinda long, considering all the men at work and currently surrounding him, all sported cropped haircuts. His ears and his lips were embellished with piercings, you almost walked into a wall when you saw him playing with his lip piercings, the tip of his tongue, just grazing the shiny metal. Your gaze fleetingly drops to his arm, his tattooed arm. How was a man like this working here? He should be on the cover of vogue or something. 

Tearing your eyes away from him, you manage to make it into the changing room, unscathed. You quickly lock away your bag and head back out onto the main floor, phone and AirPods in hand, ready to tackle the gym. And then it hits you a ton of bricks. You have no idea what you’re doing. You didn’t know where to start, what equipment does what, what part of your body to focus on. 

You look around at people lifting weights, running on the treadmills, using the equipment like pros.

Your eyes focus in on the 'smoke show' of a man that ‘briefly’ caught your eye earlier.  He was now sitting behind the front desk and under a large poster for personal trainers. The poster read ‘In the body gym: PT sessions available; first 2 sessions are free’. And if a sign from the universe, it doesn’t fail to mention how the offer is time limited. You take it as a sign, plus you were most likely going to try the gym twice before never going again. Might as well get free personal training out of it.

With determination, you walk towards the front desk, before stopping in front of that man of a man.  And that’s when the words on your tongue freeze. 

Jungkook notices a presence looming over him and he puts the finishing touches on the next promotional poster. He looks up and smiles. He noticed you when you first came in, you were a new face, he knew all the regulars who attended the gym and he had never seen you before. He would definitely remember a face like yours. He stands up.

“Hello, how can I help you?” He rests his tattooed hand on the desk and he notice how your eyes grow larger at the sight.

Your words are still finding it hard to get out of your mouth. You probably look like such a weirdo, standing there and staring at him. You manage to lift your finger and gesture to the poster behind him.

He smiles and his smile is the brightest smile you’ve ever seen.

“You want to book a PT session?” 

You nod and swallow the lump that had been lodged in your throat since you walked up to the desk.

“Sorry, yes, I’d like to book five.” You fumble to pull out your credit card from the back of your phone.

“I can just add the fee to your account. You don’t need to pay directly. The fee won’t be noticeable until the third session, on the account of our offer.” He leans forward to adjust your account. 

You can see down his shirt from the angle. And by the sight you can tell that he works in a gym. Hell, he might even live in it. 

He clicks a few times and quickly straightens back up, you swiftly divert your gaze.

“You are free to start your first session today.” He comes out from behind the desk and he towers over you, your knees buckle. Maybe that’s something you need to work on. Do your knees have muscles? Can you make them stronger?

“Okay, should I wait here for the trainer?” You ask.

He goes behind the desk, ducks down and then comes back out.

He extends his hand and you stare at him in confusion.

He retracts his hand, and rubs the back of his neck.

“I don’t know why I did that…” He awkwardly chuckles, shaking his head.

It can’t be. There’s no way that he’s your P-

“I’m your trainer. I hope that’s okay, the other guys are fully booked and I had a cancellation today, so I thought it’d be a cute joke…” He trails off, taking note of the smile growing across your face.

You feel kinda at ease seeing him get a little awkward attempting to joke with you. He looked like he should be the cockiest motherfucker ever, but second by second he was proving that he was the complete opposite of that. It was endearing but there was no way he could be your personal trainer, not like you had a shot with him anyway, he probably had a really fit and hot girlfriend. You digress, you didn’t want him to see you all sweaty, breathing hard and struggling to complete simple moves. 

He looks at you, his eyes doubling in size. He can tell you’re slightly uncomfortable, he could almost visualise the Neurons firing off in your head. He was attracted to you, that’s for sure, he wasn’t trying to come off as creepy. Maybe he did, and now you don’t want to train with him, maybe you’ll cancel your membership too.

He rapidly looks around the gym, hoping to catch the eye of one of his colleagues, so he could offer to trade clients. He catches Namjoon’s eye, but before he could call him over, you speak;

“It was funny, I’m just a bit scared.”

His gaze meets your eyes again. He internally feels a huge rush of relief. Thank goodness he didn’t scare you away.

“Oh good.” He tucks his hair behind his ear.

Cute. You think.

“Why are you scared?” He quickly follows up.

Shifting your weight between your feet, you answer, your voice barely audible over the EDM base leaking through the speakers.

“I don’t want to embarrass myself. You’re a professional and I don’t want to make a fool of myself.” You play with your earbud case, avoiding eye contact.

You wouldn’t be his first client who had that same fear, it was completely natural to be scared of embarrassing yourself. He felt the same way when he started boxing, the first session was nerve-racking, scared of getting anything wrong. But all you need is a good and supportive trainer. And if says so himself, that’s what he thinks he is.

“Don’t be scared. I’m here to help you. We’ll start slow, okay?” He offers a warm smile and places his large hand on your shoulder.

You almost fall from the feeling of his hand on your bare shoulder. Yes, you were acting like a teenage girl who had never interacted with a man before. But look at him. You were a grown ass woman who had never interacted with a man that looked like him before.

He leads you over to a room separate from the rest of the gym, closed off with glass doors, allowing you to see the whole place. Inside the room were a few exercise balls, foam roller and weights. The floor was soft and covered in mats.

He takes you over to the furthest mat in the room.

“Just me and you here, so don’t be nervous. This section is pretty discreet.” He reassures you.

You smile and place your phone and earbuds down on the floor next to the two mats you were currently occupying.

“We are going to start with stretching, so please sit down. I might have to help you with some of the positions. I hope you don’t mind being stretched…” His voice quietens as he realises how it sounds.

His cheeks flush a pretty pink. A hot flash that runs through you, leaves a thin layer of sweat on your hairline.

And so it begins.

The next morning you wake up sore as fuck. All that extra stretching at the end of the session seemed useless now. Your legs feel like lead as you swing them out of bed and headed to the bathroom. As you sit on the toilet, your thighs scream at you, it was almost as if you could feel every fibre of your muscles tear. 

Your phone buzzes on the countertop. Finishing your business, you wash your hands and run the shower.

You tap the screen on your phone to see a message from Jungkook. He said it was important to have direct contact with each other, just incase he wanted to recommend some gym wear or if you had any questions. 

Jungkook (Gym): ’Hope yesterday didn’t tire you out too much. You did great 👏 ‘

Another comes in as you finish reading.

Jungkook (Gym): ‘I hope to see you at the gym (or outside) soon! Make sure to book another session! 😊’

You quickly pick up your phone, steam fills the room as the water continues to gush from the pipes.

It vibrates in your hand.

Jungkook (Gym): ‘Sorry if that was unwarranted.’

It vibrates again. You didn’t want to risk opening the messages just incase you were unsure of what to say. You really didn’t want to leave him on read unintentionally.

Jungkook (Gym): ‘Please ignore the last two messages 😣 .’ 

Jungkook (Gym): ‘Lets pretend that didn’t happen. Sorry for the spam 😔 

You click on the notification and unlock your phone. 

You: Its okay 😆  My body feels like its on fire every time I move, is that normal?

You fire off the text.

Jungkook (Gym): ‘Yes 😂  completely normal. You should buy a foam roller to massage your muscles~ But more stretching should help in the mean time. Here is a video to follow (its me btw 😳)’

He sends a link to a Youtube video. You’re intrigued. The gym seemingly had a YouTube channel. The link loads and then you see Jungkook on your screen. Holding the phone in one hand, you quickly turn off the shower and head to your bedroom. Careful not to walking into any walls, you sit on your bed. 

He greets the audience cheerfully, informing them that this was a tutorial for stretching to relieve muscle ache. He is wearing the gym’s merch, not like when you saw him the day before, it wasn’t a baggy t-shirt, no. This time it was a form fitting sleeveless, lycra shirt, with the gym’s logo nestled between his sculpted pecs. His vibrant tattoos more on show than they were in person. His legs were wrapped in shorts, that fell just above his knees. 

He encourages the viewers to get an exercise mat or find a soft surface. You follow his instruction. A loud groan escapes your lips as you struggle to sit down.

He sports the brightest smile as he guides the (most likely thirsty) watchers through the exercises.

You strain your muscles as you attempt to  toe touch. And then he says something that brings you back to the previous day, during your session.

“You might need a partner to stretch you, if you can’t get far enough. It’ll feel really good.”

You were being advised on how to stretch and then when it came to this specific stretch. You were laying on your back, hands clasped around your knee. You knew that you weren’t flexible, but  you didn’t know that you were this stiff. You tried your best to pull your leg into your chest, but you couldn’t anything.

“Its not working.” You say, letting your leg drop to the ground with a thud.

Jungkook chuckles and looks down at you, arms crossed, his biceps bulging. The strength it took to not stare was more than what you used to lift the weights.

“I think you need help.” He kneels down in front of you.

He pauses.

“I can help you, if you want.” 

You nod.

He mutters an ‘okay, great’, before asking you to resume the position. He moves forward, putting his body over yours, placing his hands on your calf and pushing your leg up and down.

You almost moan with how good the stretch felt. You try your damn hardest not to concentrate on the man who was currently on top of you. You tried not to take notice of his scent, or the small scar on his cheek, or the mole under his lip.

“Can you feel it now?” He smirks.

He knew you could feel it, he heard the noise you let slip. He tries not to think anything of it, but his mind runs wild. He had to be professional. Plus you hadn’t indicated that you were interested in him in the slightest.

You nod again. He sits back on his heels and lets go of your leg.

You’re pulled out of your reminiscent state by a notification and the sound of the phone vibrating against the floor.

Jungkook (Gym): Did it help? 😢 

You quickly reply with no thoughts. Empty headed.

You: Its not the same without you

He was gonna think you were like all those other woman in the gym who thirsted over him. You needed to fix it.

You quickly send another message.

You: *your help ☺️ 

Jungkook’s heart sank at your correction. Maybe you weren’t interested. You probably in a relationship and the last thing you wanted to deal with was a creepy PT harassing you. He doesn’t reply.

You spend your whole shower thinking about being left on read.

Your closest co-worker, Bethany, sits across from you during in lunch. She notices how you barely make conversation, or keep the conversation. You check your phone every 5 minutes.

“Who are we waiting for?” She asks, her fork digging around in her bowl.

“Huh?” 

She chuckles.

“You’re obviously waiting for someone to text. You keep on looking at phone like every two seconds. So, who are we waiting for?”

You didn’t know you were being that obvious. 

“Well… My personal trainer is a total twenty out of ten. And he messaged me this morning to give me some stretching tips, and I may have ended our last convo on a creepy note. And now I think that he’s ghosting me because I was a creep. He probably blocked me. I’m probably banned from the gym.” Words rush out of your sauce covered lips. Maybe spaghetti wasn’t the best meal to have in the middle of the day.

Bethany shoves a napkin in your face, which you accept gratefully. She request to see the messages. Embarrassed, you hand your phone over to her.

She remains silent as she scrolls down the screen.

“He has a crush on you.” She finally speaks, her eyes fixed on the screen, her thumb pressing down. She was doing more than looking at the messages.

“You better not be sending another message.” You warn her, hand reaching across the table.

She swiftly moves her chair back, so your phone is out of reach.

“If you don’t snatch him up, someone else will. Oh my God, he is…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, she turns the screen towards you. And you freeze. It is a picture of a rather muscular man’s bare back, the hair at the nape of his neck was wet with sweat. And the tattooed arm… You knew that arm. It was in your dreams last night.

“W-where did you find that?”

She smiles and her thumb resumes the swiping motion.

“It was in his previous profile pictures.” She leans back in her chair.

“His picture is a brown dog.” You sit back, the image burnt into your eyes.

How were suppose to act now that you’ve seen that?  All you can imagine is digging your nails into that back as-

See? You’ve been corrupted. No, you must be ovulating, that why the impure thoughts plague your mind. You’ve seen good looking men before, but you’ve never had such a primal reaction before. You also didn’t know him well enough to like anything besides his looks. His very, very, very good looks.

“He has a ton of pictures. He may be the first guy ever who’s good at taking pictures. Damn, look at this.” She turns the screen towards you once more. This time he was standing in a mirror, hair slicked back and in a black button down. 

“I can never go back to the gym. I guess my new years resolution is not going to be fulfilled.” You sigh, leaning forward to put your head in your arms.

Suddenly, Bethany gasps.

“He replied.” She smiles.

Your heart drops to your stomach. 

“I can’t look. You read it.” You close your eyes, not wanting to look at her face.

She clicks on the notification. It felt as if seconds were taking hours to pass.

“Aww~” 

Your head pops up, eyes shoot open.

“Aww?” 

She nods.

“He said ‘I’d be glad to help, I like you.”

You lunge forward and grab the device out of her hand.

It shakes in your hand

Jungkook (Gym): * your company 😜 

Your heartbeat quickens and a smile spreads across your face. He was nicely making fun of you, recalling back to your little save earlier.

“If you don’t go for it, I will.” Bethany jokes, her engagement ring, glistening under the lighting of the restaurant.

You sit back in your chair, clutching the phone, thinking of a reply. The phone buzzes again.

Jungkook (Gym): I hope I didn’t ruin my chances of asking you out for dinner after our training sessions. I hope it didn’t come off as creepy 🤢 

You didn’t dwell on a reply, you thumbs swiftly move across the screen as you type out a reply.

You: Why wait? 🫤 

Jungkook didn’t want to rush anything just incase the attraction was purely physical. You still had four sessions left. He didn’t want to put either of you in that uncomfortable position of feeling like you were stuck with someone you had a bad experience with. What if you found him boring, or strange, or creepy? Oh he was so stupid, luckily you seemed interested, but he didn’t even ask if you were single or not, he just pounced on you like some sort of predator.

Jungkook (Gym): I want you to keep on coming to the gym. I want it to go well.

Your heart melts.  It was endearing. That someone that looked like him could be nervous. 

You send a heart emoji and lock your phone, placing it screen down on the table. As you’re about to open your mouth to discuss your messages with Bethany, your phone rings. Flipping it up, you see the name on the screen; Jungkook.

You show Bethany. She snatches the device from you and answers it, shoving it to your ear.

“Hello?” You say.

“Hi. How are you?” His silky, yet raspy voice bleeds through the speakers.

Your eyes zero in on the left over food on your plate, your finger mindlessly tracing patterns into the table.

“I-I’m good. You?” 

You could hear the EDM music that played in the gym come through the phone. It must be at work.

“Same. Uh, do you want to come in today? I could help the soreness go away? Well, not completely, but feel better?” He suggests, shyly. You practically see his tattooed arm raise to go behind his neck to shake through the back of his hair.

You didn’t have any plans to go to the gym for another 2 days Your sweaty clothes were still stuffed in your gym bag next to your front door. You hadn’t even bothered to put them in the laundry.

“Uh… I don’t have my gym clothes today.” You lean back in your chair.

Jungkook was unsure of how he was going to come off but he had to try. He really wanted to see you, he felt pathetic having a crush like this. Pursuing a crush like this.

“We have gym apparel here.” He says.

You almost scoff. Not meaning to come off as condescending. You try to disguise the scoff as a cough.

“I’m not really a gym girlie. So I’m not into buying gym clothes like that… I’ll be come in on Friday tho-“

He cuts you off.

“I’m looking at the system now and your membership actually expires tomorrow. You signed up for a 6 month contract and well… its been 6 months.” 

He was telling the truth, but he was coming off as desperate.

“Oh. Um, Its my lunch break right now, I guess I could quickly come in to renew. I’ll be there soon.”

You both mutter a quick farewell before ending the phone call.

“Sounds like he really wants to see you.”

You walk into the gym, feeling slightly uneasy dressed in your work clothes, your heels sinking into the padded floor. You immediately spot Jungkook who was currently with a client at one of the machines, a young woman who looked like she didn’t really need to be in the gym, but thats probably what hard work and dedication gets you. Results. He was dressed casually as always, a t-shirt and baggy shorts. This time a beanie encased his raven locks. You rip your gaze away from the two of them and head to the front desk. A young man greets you, you read his name tag ‘Namjoon’. He was tall, buff and oh so handsome. Was that the requirement to work at this gym?

How can I help you today?” Namjoon asks.

“Hi, I need to renew my membership.” You start.

The man smile, his dimple becoming more prominent with every tooth that displays.

“Sure, what’s your name?” His fingers ready to enter your information into the computer.

You give him your name, placing your handbag on to the counter to find your ID just incase.

Namjoon’s eyebrows reach his hairline and his yells for Jungkook. You’re startled at the sudden outburst. You look up at him in confusion. He gives you a curt smile before backing away from the counter and jogging over to Jungkook. You follow him with your eyes as he approaches Jungkook. You’re unable to hear their conversation as a count of the the loud music and the distance. You see Jungkook turn to his client and she dismounts from the machine and takes a swig of water. The two men exchange a few words before Jungkook heads your way. He approaches you with a gleaming smile on his face. You return a shy grin.

He jogs behind the counter.

“Is there a problem? Couldn’t Namjoon, is that his name? Couldn’t he do it?” You tilt your head in wonder.

Jungkook felt a pang of jealousy in his chest, he didn’t enjoy the fact that you seemed to want Namjoon to assist you when he was right there.

You notice his eyes flicker and his smile falter.

“You looked busy, I didn’t want to bother you.” You reach your hand out in defence.

His smile returns at its luminescence.

“Its no bother. I was expecting you.” Types in your information into the system and prints out a new contract. He quickly turns around to grab the sheet of paper from the printer. You take the time to admire his back, the image of his shirtless back flashing through your mind. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when he puts the contract down on the counter and gestures to the pen perched in it’s stand. He tells you where to sign. You quickly sign and date on the dotted line before handing it back to him.

“Do you want to grab dinner tonight?” He asks.

You’re taken aback by the sudden invite. 

Before you could respond, Jungkook’s client saunters over to the two of you.

“Kookie, are we going to finish the session?” She leans on the counter, and you take the opportunity to take a glance at her body. She had the physique of a dancer, or a model. She was definitely on someone’s (your) vision board.

You weren’t an overly insecure person, but thats was mostly because you kept to yourself  and limited your use of social media. But in times like these, when you unintentionally comparing yourself to another woman who was just simply existing in the presence of a good looking man. You wrap your blazer around your waist trying to shield your shape as you feel her eyes dart up and down your body.

“Yeah give me one second.” He doesn’t turn away from you.

Jungkook was about to open his mouth, when the lady interrupts;

“He’s really good. He’ll get you into shape in no time! He also offers meal plans, if he hasn’t told you already.” She gives you the once over one more time. 

You feel yourself fold in. Your shoulder slump and chest caves in. You suddenly become aware of your body and how different it was in comparison to all the people in the gym. In comparison to Jungkook, who was seemingly trying to ask you out right now. You thought of his intentions. Was he trying to garner more business for the gym? Was he going to take you out and suggest that you sign up for more PT sessions? Or maybe he was simply doing his job? And he asked all his clients out to dinner so he could monitor their eating habits?

Or MAYBE it was worse; and he got a kick of leading innocent woman into thinking they had a chance with men like him. And all the people at the gym knew it?

“Clara, I’ll be over in 5 minutes. Namjoon is gonna take over for a while.” He gestures over to Namjoon, who was leaning against a machine, patiently waiting for her to return.

She scoffs before walking away, making a point to sway her hips as she walks away. Jungkook rolls his eyes and looks back at you, a smile resting on his visage.

“Are you free tonight?” He asks, his eyes grow with hope.

The hope soon dissipates when he watches your face distort with uncertainty.

“Look, I don’t want you to go above and beyond for me. I just want to get used to coming to the gym first. Um… I know I’m not a supermodel but-.” He stops you.

“What?” He brows furrow in confusion. He runs through the past few minutes in his head and wonders where he may have misled you. He knew he sometimes had the misfortune of mixing up his words and confusing people, but he honestly didn’t think he mixed up his words this time. He barely spoke.

“I appreciate your help, but please don’t feel obliged to go outside the boundaries of the gym t-.” He cuts you off again.

“Boundaries?” He questions.

You swallow the hard lump that had formed in your throat, you already felt small, but you felt yourself becoming smaller.

“Yeah. I know you offer ‘meal plans’. But we don’t have to go out for dinner in order for you to sell them to me.” You choke out.

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise and his mouth drops open.

“I-I. No.” Is all he can say.

“No?”

“No. I want to take you out because I like you. Well I like what I know of you. I want to get to know you. I think you’re gorgeous by the way.” The last part comes out under his breath.

You’re lost for words, you don’t know whether you should apologise or question his response.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wanted to wait until after our sessions were done so you didn’t get the wrong impression.” He looks down at his shoes.

You felt so bad, jumping to conclusions, you were the one who forced to ask you sooner. He was trying to make you comfortable, he never said anything about your appearance or made you feel any less than. You forced your insecurities on a really nice guy, who showed a little interest in you. 

“I’m sorry. Maybe I should get another trainer. And I’m-“ His gaze meets yours, eyes wide.

“No, no! I still want to be your trainer and take you out! I just hope I didn’t give you the wrong impression. I really like you.”

You shift in your spot, clutching your bag.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and taps the screens a few times. He shows you the screen.

“Look, if you don’t want to get dinner, which I understand. Lets go here. Its a painting cafe, its open til late night and they have drinks. Its really chill. You mentioned in our first session how you wanted yo do something creative, right?”

You smile,  he was seemingly trying so hard.

“Okay.” You say, coyly.

He beams.

“Okay?”

You nod.

“I’ll meet you outside at 6:30?” He locks his phone and slides it back into his pocket.

“Okay!” You smile before turning around and walking away.

This time, Jungkook watches you walk away, failing at containing the smile that had exploded on his face.

Jungkook knew his last client of the day felt rushed, he didn’t bother with the final stretches like he usually does, he didn’t even bother to jokingly flirt with the 75 year old woman like he usually did either. He aided her in putting the 2kg weights back on the rack before running into the men’s changing room, stripping and jumping into the shower. 

He scrubbed his body head to toe, making sure to get rid of the grime from the day.

Before he knew it, he was waiting outside of the building, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He catches a glimpse of his reflection and he immediately fixes his hair, one strand would not stay in its place, he knew he needed to use more hair gel. He should’ve asked Jimin if he could use a little more. 

Staring through the glass, he saw you coming, caught up in the crowd of people who were dying to get home. 

Finally, you come through the doors and walk up to him. You greet him brightly, hoping he can’t hear the nerves plaguing your voice.

He beams at you and asks about your day. He informs you that the place wasn’t too far away and was in walkable distance.

The start of the date was awkward, as expected, no more than a few words at a time being exchanged. He was ever the gentleman, before picking out a design for your canvases, he helped you  out with your apron. You fought to keep your knees from buckling as he came in close from behind to tie the back. You do the same for him, the height difference, between the two of you becoming ver present, as well as the broadness of his back.

The host lead you two a secluded room, as you both clutched your chosen designs in hand. The room was quite romantic, low lighting, except for the luminous light surging each easel. There was a table separating the two chairs, displaying the paint and the brushes. You glance at Jungkook and see the look of glee.

You both place the canvases on the easels and take your seats. The host, takes place in front of the two of you.

“You have 2 and a half hours, you are free to use all the material here. If you need anymore, please press the call button.” She gestures to the button, stuck to the end of the table, covered in the paint bottles.

She continues;

“This is an evening painting session, so we now serve wine at the bar. Selective dishes are also available to order. Coffee and snacks are still available. And… please refrain from any inappropriate behaviour, or you will be asked to leave and banned from the premise. We do have CCTV in each room.” She offers an awkward smile and swiftly leaves the room.

Jungkook hopes you don’t think that he brought you here for illicit reasons. Maybe you’d think he was one of those sleazy guys who take women to private rooms and try it on with them. Shit. You haven’t said anything. Shit. He hasn’t said anything. He’s been in his head for the past few seconds.

“I hope I’m not bad at this.” You say, breaking the silence, with a light laugh.

He turns to you and smiles, picking up a paintbrush and offering it to you. You take it and return the smile.

From then on, the date runs smoothly. You both decide to order a bottle of wine and share a plate of  pasta. One bottle turned into two, and the room was filled with laughter and stories. The misunderstandings of the afternoon long forgotten. Before you knew it, a voice came through a small speaker, you didn’t know was there, reminding you that you had 10 minutes left.

In a burst of tipsy laughter, the two of you hurriedly finish your paintings. 

Picking up your painting and Jungkook to the ‘drying station’, located, near the entrance. You both remove your paint covered aprons before attending to your paintings once again. You take a peek at his masterpiece before you flick on the hairdryer.

“How are you real?” You ask in disbelief.

He tilts his head in confusion.

“You look amazing, you’re nice, and you can paint. What can’t you do?” You giggle.

He laughs and shakes his head.

“No, no. I- You- I mean thank you. But I think the same about you.” He says quickly turning on his hairdryer, aiming it at his picture.

The hum of the machines fill the room, echoing your laughter that once filled your ears. Your ears, that were now flushed with flattery.

The hostess takes both paintings, wrapping them up carefully, and handing you both your respective bags. She taps on the register, reading off the total bill. You reach in your bag to find your card, yeah, it was a date, but you felt strange standing there as Jungkook paid for something that could’ve easily been a platonic date… Your thoughts are interrupted.

“Do you want the receipt?” 

“Huh?” The sound slipped out.

Jungkook looks at you before answering.

“No thank you. Thank you, have a nice evening.”  His free hand grabs yours and he guides you both outside.

So… not a platonic date then.

The street was much busier than it had been than when you had arrived. It was filled with people unwinding after a long day at work, ready for the weekend. It was also littered with loved up couples, holding hands, looking for places to eat, talking to each other about who knows what. If anyone were to look at the two of you, they would think you were one of those lovelorn couples. The way your hand fit in his, pace matching his, laughter mixing harmoniously with his.

“Thank you for tonight. I had so much fun.” You pull him to a stop, pulling him into a side road, away from the foot traffic.

Jungkook feels his heart swell, he was so happy. He felt like it went well, but to hear you say it? Made him feel like he was flying. To think that a few hours ago, it was all almost slipping away from him. He found himself drawn to you, he couldn’t explain it. He always believed that that’s how he’d find his ‘person’. It would just feel right. And it does.

“Me too. Thank you for giving me a chance.” He takes both your hand in his, eyes growing double in size.

You didn’t think it was possible for a man like him to look cute, but here he was, with his eyes shining, looking down at you. Looking as adorable as ever. You move closer, you were aware of your actions, but you also knew that the wine you drank was giving you the courage to do what you were about to do.

“I would like to k-“

“Yes.” A puff of air tickles your lips, as he closes his eyes.

He doesn’t feel anything.

He opens his eyes and steps back.

“Oh I’m sorry, I as-“

You pull him in and plant you lips on his. Its not perfect, you miss slightly, you feel his lips curl into smile. His hand leaves yours and meets your waist, bringing you in closer, he readjusts his lips on yours. His lip rings indenting into the plum flesh of your bottom lip. You have the sudden urge to feel it on your tongue. You swipe your tongue along his bottom lip, letting it tease the metal accessory for a few milliseconds before slipping it into his mouth. A low growl rumbles in his throat and he tangles is tongue with yours. Your hand finds its way to the back of his neck, fingers delving into the hair at the nape of his neck. His hand wonders from your waist to your lower back, fingers inching closer to your behind.

The sound of a throat clearing brings you to a halt.

You separate, the rustling of your bags, sounding like teens laughing at their peers being caught making out at a high school house party.

“We should uh… get going.” You say, using your fingers to wipe the saliva from your mouth. 

Jungkook licks his lips and nods. You were more than ready to go about being awkward and distant but that was never his plan, he grabs your hand and walks with you like he’d been kissing you like that.

He walks you back to the work building and calls you a taxi. You both bid each other a sweet goodnight, exchanging smiles and hugs before parting ways.

Jungkook makes sure to text you as soon as he watches your taxi drive down the road, telling you how much he enjoyed spending time and how he hopes he could do it sometime soon. 

Your heart jumps at the sound of your phone vibrating in your bag. It does backflips as your eyes take in his words. For the second time that evening you ask him;

You: How are you real? 😂 

He smiles to himself as he heads home, he snaps a quick picture of himself and sends it.

Jungkook 💕: Very real and all yours lol

He immediately regrets sending it. Fingers scrambling, he sends a second message.

Jungkook💕: If you’ll have me 🥴 

He must be playing a joke on you, right? What does this tall, handsome, funny, sweet PERSONAL TRAINER want with you? He’s seen you, right? He’s seen the other women who go to his gym, right? 

Jungkook looks at his message and sees the ‘1’ disappear. You read it. And you weren’t replying. He came on too strong. Great, he ruined the perfect evening.

Just as about he was about to type out an apology, your message pops up.

You: Do you have a fetish or something?

He furrows his eyebrows. Figuring texting is messing up true feelings, he presses the voice call button.

Your eyes widen when you see his name on your screen. You pick up.

“Hi.” 

“Hey. Fetish?” He gets right to it.

“Yeah. You know…” Your voice comes out as a whisper.

He stops walking, he sits on a bench.

“I don’t know. To be honest, I’m very confused.”

You felt so embarrassed. You let your insecurities get the best of you and sabotage this relationship before it had the chance to even start. 

“Jungkook. You’re you and…”

You pause. You feel your eyes water. 

“I’m me. I’m not in the best shape and I’m not skinny or have a perfect hourglass figure. I’m definitely  heavier than you.” You let out a dry laugh.

“I’m struggling to understand and believe that you like me. And that this isn’t some sort of sexual thing.” Your breath shakes.

Jungkook’s brows are now in permanent furrowed state, that never crossed his mind. Of course it didn’t because he didn’t think of you like that.

He says your name. It was different from the way you’ve heard it said by other guys before when you’ve brought up the same issue. He didn’t say with defeat or dipped in grease. It was usually followed by ‘you should take it as a compliment, I think big girls are sexy’. ‘I wanted to see what it was like’

Jungkook said nothing of the sort;

‘I’m me and you’re you. I like you. I like everything about you. Well, what I know so far, I want to know more. I want to go on more dates, I want to see where this goes. Hopefully it can go far. I’d really like that. And you may not understand why I like you, but you don’t have to right now, I’ll show you. I’m sorry if a guy has made you feel like you’re a plaything and not likeable. I wish I could punch him.”

You laugh.

“I like hearing you laugh. I want to be the reason for that. Thank you telling me how you feel and not just ghosting. I appreciate it. “ You could hear him smile through the phone.

He couldn’t be real. But you had to tell yourself he was or you’d fuck it up.

“Thank you for not being weirded out.” You sniffle.

He laughs.

“After kissing me like that? I’m locked in.”

2 months later

Jungkook was a very understanding and patient boyfriend. He must’ve gotten a lot of practice from his job as a personal trainer. He pushed you to try new things, go to new places, but he always made sure you were comfortable. He was a living manifestation of your dream man.

He had asked you to be his girlfriend during your 5th and final training session. You were stretching together, he had your leg stretched out and next to your head (definitely not gym approved), when he ‘popped the question’. You agreed very quickly and kissed him, only for the kiss to be interrupted by ‘Clara’, the client who was convinced that she was playing the long game with Jungkook.

She lets out a loud gasp before storming out of the room.

“I think I may have lost you a client. Sorry.” You giggle.

He pecks your lips and releases your leg.

“But I gained a girlfriend.

Jungkook invites you over for a movie night after work on a Friday night. He’s ever the gentleman, he waits outside the building, takes your bag and holds your hand the entire walk  to his house. You had been over to apartment on several occasions. But never for an overnight stay, for a moment or two before heading out. You head to the bathroom, taking your overnight bag, you wash off your makeup, change out of work clothes and into a oversize shirt and sleep shorts. Neatly folding your clothes back into your bag, you head back out into the living room.

He looks up at you as you place your bag under the breakfast bar.

“You look cute.” He smiles, cutting up strawberries into a bowl.

You walk up next to him, your brushing up his broad back and wrapping around his waist. You kiss his cheek.

“Thank you.” You kiss his jaw.

You were both quite wary when it came to physical intimacy, you’d cuddle, hold hands and occasionally kiss, but things were moving very slowly. You wondered if he was even attracted to you (you tried to push the bad thoughts to the back of your head) , as he rarely ever initiated contact. You were still trying to come across has chill and nonchalant, but the truth was… you were horny. You wanted to jump his bones every time you saw him, he was gorgeous. He had been bragging about a delicious dish that he learned to make, and how excited he was to show you. You were a bit reluctant about accepting the invite, you’d been to his apartment before, but for only a few minutes at a time.  You had never spent time with him in his house with access to a bed.

You help him cook, despite him telling you to sit down. You both sit down and enjoy the meal, sharing laughs and stories from the day. After eating, you wash up together, feeling very domestic.

Drying your hands, you shyly you ask;

“Should we watch a movie?” 

Jungkook dries the last bowl and smiles, that shy smile that you adored so much.

“Sure, the remote is on the couch. Pick whatever.”

You place the dish towel down ever so carefully, the silence lingering in air before you speak.

“I uh was thinking we could uh watch it in your bedroom. If you’re comfortable of course.” You pick the towel up once more, wringing it in your hands, palms turning red.

He notices your hesitation, places the bowl in the cabinet, gently pulls the towel out of your hands and wraps his arms around you. You immediately relax into the hug.

“Don’t be nervous to ask for things like that. I want to cuddle with you wherever. It’ll be nice.”

Before you knew it, you were under the sheets with Jungkook on top of you, lips locked, legs too, entangled in a heated position. One arm was around his neck and one was around his tiny waist, sneaking up his shirt. He moaned into the kiss, the deep guttural sound causing a pool arousal to soak your underwear. His large hand had naturally made its way on to your breasts, he has growled at the feeling of your braless tits in his hand. His other hand was above you, resting on the pillow. He let his body rest on you a little, increasing your temperature ever so slightly. You gasp into his mouth, feeling something firm pressed against your stomach. He kisses your lips once more before moving to your cheek, down to your jaw and then your neck, sucking your skin slightly. You weren’t a particularly vocal person in bed, but his actions were making hard for you to keep quiet, involuntary whines escaping your body.

“I-I’m h-hot.” You whimper.

He smirks.

“Yeah, you are.”

You snort.

“No~ I’m literally hot, can we take off the blanket?” 

“Oh.” He laughs and flips the blanket off, rolling to the side of you, leaning on his elbow.

He stares at you. Before you could ask a question, his lips are on yours again. His hand cups your jaw. You kiss him back fervently, your hand

He pulls away, lips a hairbreadth from yours. His hand travels down your body, caressing your breast, squeezing your waist. Which makes you tense up. Your waist and stomach were areas that you were self conscious about, it felt like he was squeezing your flaws. 

Think about something else. Thinking about something else.

He feels you go stiff.

“Are you okay?” He asks, lips pink and swollen.

You nod.

“Just touch me.” You grab his hand and place it on your waistband.

He bites his lips, without breaking eye contact, his fingers disappear into your shorts. He touches you over your panties first. He moans at the feeling of the soaked material.

“You’re so wet. All for me?” He smirks, eyebrows raised.

Your breath gets caught in your throat as he moves your panties to the side and his thumb meets your clit, fingers gliding over your folds. He takes his time before curling his long fingers into you, causing your to moan out in pleasure, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. He slowly fucks his fingers into you. The room is filled with the crude wet sound of your heat and the murmur of the voices of the long forgotten movie playing on TV.

You’ve never sounded like this before, unintelligible sounds tumbling from your lips as he pumps his digits in and out, hitting that place deep inside you.

“Y-your’e gonna make me c-“ You kiss him and place your hand on his bulge that had been growing.

He hisses, bucking into your hand. He takes his fingers out of you and hurriedly removes your shorts and underwear. You barely have time to think when his mouth meets your centre. His thick tongue licks you up, sucking on your pearl, like the best candy he’s ever tasted in his life. Your hands shoot out to grab his hair as you shake. You grunt out his name as you cum, eyes rolling to the back of your head, you try to catch your breath.

Jungkook rises to his knees and rips off his shirt, you catch a glimpse of his adonis like body before his kisses you. How were you in bed with someone who looks like that? Even though you had just felt like jelly, your brain tells your body to tense up. You kiss him back, trying your best to push the thoughts away, but as your hand feel up his toned, muscular physique, it was getting harder to fight them away.

Jungkook feels you tense under his touch. He pecks your lips before pulling away.

“Are you okay?”  He asks, brown eyes glistening.

You nod and try to push the intrusive thoughts to the back of your mind. He raises his eyebrows, non verbally questioning you. You nod once again and presses your lips against his. He moans and kisses you back passionately. His hands wonder again, gripping your waist and pulling you closer to him. Your muscles tense once again. He feels you go stiff, he pulls away again.

Your eyes remain closed, scared to look at him. You’ve really fucked up now, he probably thinks you’re weird, and he probably regrets giving a ‘fat’ girl a chance.

“You’re not okay. Tell me what’s wrong baby.” He moves closer to you and brushes hair out of your face, but then he quickly retracts.

“Do you not want me to touch you?” 

You open your eyes, not daring to look at him, your stare tasering in on every detail of his bedroom ceiling.

“I’m sorry if I m-“

“No! I just have- I’m just… All I keep thinking of is what you must think.”

He looks at you puzzled.

“What I think?”

You take a deep breath and sit up, pulling your legs into yourself.

“You must’ve been with girls who have insane bodies, and you work at a gym for god’s sake! And now you’ve got to tolerate me. I don’t wanna put you off by taking off my shirt.” You ramble.

Jungkook barely keeps up with your words, he wants to grab you and tell you that you’re beautiful, and that he is more than attracted to you. But he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, you were literally telling him how you were uncomfortable you were with him touching you. Well, you didn’t say that explicitly but he didn’t want to push you further.

Him just sitting there was making you more anxious, maybe he had been hiding his true feelings. He did find you repulsive, maybe he was being kind and didn’t know how to let you down gently. 

Without sparing a glance his way, you attempt to get off the bed. He stops you, hand gently landing one your thigh. You stare down at his tattooed fingers, slightly gripping, leaving dents in your skin.

“Don’t go. I think you’re gorgeous. L-like the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. That I’ve ever had the privilege to meet, to date, to kiss… To touch.”

You scoot back on the bed, eyes never leaving his.

“N-now I understand if you don’t wanna stay the night anymore, but.. I really want you to stay. And we don’t have to do anything, I won’t even touch you. I can sleep on the couch if that would make you more comfortable.”

He moves his hand towards your face, fingertips hovering over your cheek, scared to brush your hair out of your face.

“Even if you want to leave, please don’t leave thinking that I don’t want you or that I’m not attracted to you. You are perfect to me and it sucks that guys have made you feel like you aren’t the most beautiful woman in the world. “

You look into his eyes and you can feel his sincerity. You lean into his open hand, letting his palm warm your cheek. 

“I-i want you to touch me. I want you to want to touch me.”

Jungkook grabs your face and kisses you.

“I do want to touch you. I want to do more than that. But I want you to feel more than comfortable with that.”

You kiss him, deepening the kiss before he even has the chance to pull away. You wrap your arms around his neck and you fall back, pulling him on top of you.

He rolls you both onto your sides and places his hands firmly on your hips. He moans into your mouth, sending heart down between your legs. You clench around nothing and rub your legs together, in an attempt to relieve yourself.

Jungkook’s hand brushes your thigh, as if he was asking for an invitation inside. You spread to let him in, his fingertips once again dance along your folds, becoming slick with arousal. He toys with your hardening nub, making you twist and turn. His mouth detaches from yours and land on your neck. He licks and kisses a spot that makes it impossible to keep quiet. Your arms wrap around his body, nails digging into the taut skin of his back. His fingers tease your opening before plunging in deep. His fingers move smoothly and quickly, pulling egregious noises from your lips. He feels you tighten around his fingers.

“Are you gonna cum for me again? Soak my fingers?” He whispers in your ear.

You feel a burning flash run through your body as you let go and experience release. You come undone and as you do, he presses his lips against yours, licking into your mouth. He gently pulls his fingers out of you and brings his fingers to his lips, alternating between kissing you and tasting your release.

Breath heavy, you snake your hand down between your bodies, fingers brushing his hardness in his boxers. He shudders. It had been a while since he had had sex. People perceived him as a hardcore fuckboy but he was truly the opposite. He wanted to be in a relationship, truthfully, that’s the only way he could cum, knowing the person beneath him was ‘his’.

“I don’t think I’m gonna last. I-I’m sorry.” He breathes out.

You smirk before pushing him back onto the bed and kneeling next to him. You bend at the waist and place a kiss over his boxers. His breathing gets heavier, chest heaving, abs clenching.

You palm his length before pulling him out and taking him into your mouth. You both moan as you sink deeper and feel him it the back off your throat. You suck gently, pulling off to lick at his tip.

His hand lands on the back off your head, slowly coming around to stroke your cheek. You maintain eye contact as you bob up and down. His eyes roll to the back of his head and he throws his arm over his eyes, unable to control his body as the pleasure takes over. 

Suddenly, he gently pulls your hair, forcing you off of him.

“I’m gonna cum. I wanna feel you.” He confesses.

He sits up and reaches over to open his bedside table draw. You watch as he pulls out a foil packet. Expertly, he rips it open and slides the condom over his length. He turns back to you, encouraging you to lay back on the bed.

You lay back, and part your legs. He lines up with your core and gently pushes in. He hisses out a few curse words as he feels. You tighten around him. He almost collapses with how good it feels.

“So fucking tight.” He says through gritted teeth.

His grip on your hips tightens as he rocks back and forth. His tip hitting a spot in you that makes you scream in pleasure. He leans over you, encouraging you to hold on to him.

You both find a steady rhythm, moans reaching a crescendo as you explode. He follows shortly after, you feel the warm fill the condom. He rolls off you and next to you on the bed. 

“Y-you are so sexy. Fuck.” He breathes out, chest heaving.

You laugh and turn to look at him.

“Thank you. I think you are too.” You reach out and brush his slightly damp hair out of his face. The angles of his chiseled face glisten more with the assistance of the tin layer of sweat that had formed on his skin.

He scoots closer to you and pecks your lips before getting up to get rid of the soiled condom that has become baggy with the deflation of his length.

You watch his figure as he heads into the bathroom.

You sigh a sigh of happiness. You might never be completely happy with yourself but you hope you can be happy with him and learn to love yourself as much as he might.

Hope you enjoyed this! Once again, no mean message please :)

[emmylksblog]

H.FORT BF HEADCANONS!

based on this request

a/n: extra long to feed you girlies cuz i ain't uploading any soon, writing just takes my whole day and not gonna lie drains all my energy :(

hope it doesn’t disappoint! stay safe yall 🫶🏻

⚽︎ bf! hector doesn't have time for long skincare routines between games and practices. His own routine was a quick rinse with water and a bar of soap. But watching you spend at least an hour every night made him memorize the process without even noticing.

Whenever you come home after a long day, completely exhausted, I imagine hector insisting on doing your skincare for you.

⚽︎ bf! hector would always be the big spoon. He took great pride in being protective of you, and cuddling was just an extension of that role. But on nights when he would feel particularly vulnerable, like after a brutal loss on the field, Hector would flip around and let you hold him instead.

⚽︎ bf! hector would never leave for training without giving you a goodbye kiss. Even if you're still asleep, he'll pause next to the bed, gently smooth your hair from your face and brush his lips against your forehead. It's a small gesture, but he knows he won't be able to see you until much later in the day.

⚽︎ bf! hector would be the type to keep a hair tie on his wrist at all times. You were infamous for forgetting to bring one with you whenever you left the house, and once your hair became a tangled mess, it would annoy you endlessly. To prevent any potential tantrums, Hector took it upon himself to always have a hair tie at the ready whenever you two were together.

And yes, it also had the added benefit of signaling to all the other women in the room that he was taken. He liked that even better.

⚽︎ bf! hector would love to brush your teeth together. He enjoyed starting and ending the day with you in that quiet, intimate moment. Sometimes he would even sulk a little if you did it without him.

"You started without me?" he would complain, pouting a bit as he picked up his own toothbrush.

⚽︎ bf! hector who would adore to spend time with your family. He especially would enjoy playing football with your siblings, as it would allow him to show off a little and get them excited about the sport. Your siblings would usually end up worshipping him within minutes of starting a game, especially when he'd let them score on him occasionally. He'd always make a point to ruffle their hair or give them an encouraging high-five afterward.

hector had never had siblings of his own, but that didn't stop him from instantly bonding with yours.

⚽︎ bf! hector who seems unable to keep his hands off you when he's driving. He always has his arm around your shoulders or is holding your hand. Sometimes he even caresses your thighs while he's driving. He simply can't go for too long without touching you. It's like a need for him to feel your skin against his and know you're close.

⚽︎ bf! hector who pretends to be cool and collected when you attend his games, but deep down, he's absolutely thrilled to have your support. He puts on a poker face, trying to maintain his tough-guy image, but in reality, he loves it when you cheer him on.

His favorite part is when you wear his jersey. Seeing you in his colors, proudly showing everyone that you're his biggest supporter.

⚽︎ bf! hector who would always look out for you, especially when you're wearing high heels. Once your feet start screaming in pain, he'll immediately notice and sweep you into his strong arms.

"I can't have my girlfriend suffering on my watch,"

⚽︎ bf! hector would be your biggest supporter in your career endeavors. He would encourage you to go after whatever goals you had and would do his best to help support you in any way he could.

After long study sessions, he'd insist on giving you massages to work out the aches and knots that had formed in your back.

⚽︎ bf! hector who is a fiercely independent person, not one to rely on others for much. But with you, he would allow himself to be vulnerable.

He would love it when you pampered him, especially when it came to his hair and face. Only you had the privilege of touching his skin so intimately. Whenever you'd stroke his cheek or run your fingers through his hair, he'd lean into it, his eyes fluttering closed. He knew he could relax and let you take care of him.

⚽︎ bf! hector who is a disaster in the kitchen (pls that man can't cook to save his life, if you have seen the video of him and cubarsi you will agree with me). Even boiling water was a challenge for him. But when you got sick, he wanted to take care of you, even if he didn't know how.

He called his mom for help, determined to prepare something nourishing and healing for you. Unfortunately, his culinary skills proved to be woefully lacking, and his attempt at the dish was more "creative adaptation" than actual recipe. It didn't taste great, but the gesture was heartfelt, and you appreciated his effort.

⚽︎ bf! hector who has a weakness for your collarbone. Every time he kissed it, you'd let out a little giggle or squeak, and it was music to his ears. He relished the fact that he could make you laugh with just a simple action.

⚽︎ bf! hector who would have unwavering trust in you. He would value your opinion above anyone else's and take your advice to heart, believing that your wisdom was unmatched.

⚽︎ bf! hector who would make sure to hold your hand, as if afraid that you might slip away from him in the crowd.

Whether you were attending a fancy gala or grabbing coffee at a local café, it was always the same - his larger hand would instinctively reach out for yours, lacing your fingers together tightly. He took comfort in the warmth of your touch, and the knowledge that you were right there beside him.

⚽︎ bf! hector would gladly tag along when you hit the gym on his days off. His true motivator for agreeing to go was definitely to watch you work out, admiring the way your body moved and how you pushed yourself to your limits.

However, he would always throw in a few exercises for himself as well. After all, he couldn't let you have all the fun, could he? And who knows, the extra cardio might just come in handy later...

⚽︎ bf! hector who is a playful partner (i know he is and you can't tell me otherwise), and one of his favorite ways of messing with you was biting you to get your attention. He would nibble on your earlobe or your neck, just hard enough to get a reaction.

But oh, the tease didn't stop there. Once he had your attention, he'd act completely nonchalant, like he hadn't just been biting you for cuddles. He'd lean back with a smug grin on his face, feigning ignorance about what had just happened.

⚽︎ bf! hector who can't resist pampering you, especially when it comes to your nails. Every time you'd get a manicure, he'd insist on paying for it, claiming it was an investment in his own comfort.

He absolutely loved the feeling of your manicured nails scratching gently against his scalp, massaging his head and sending tingles down his spine.

⚽︎ bf! hector who is a waist boy through and through. Once he had his hands on your waist, he rarely let go.

⚽︎ bf! hector who adores your hair. He would love the way it looked, whether it was flowing freely down your back or pulled up in a neat bun.

He would often find excuses to reach out and touch it, running his fingers through the strands or absentmindedly twirling a lock around his finger. He would bury his face in your hair when he hugged you, inhaling your scent and letting the silky smoothness of your locks caress his skin.

⚽︎ bf! hector who would turn to his mother when he found himself in hot water with you. Whenever you two had a disagreement or you were upset with him, he would seek the counsel of his mom.

In the end, his mother would always encourage him to swallow his pride and apologize to you, no matter who had started the argument.

⚽︎ bf! hector can't stand being on your bad side. He hated feeling disconnected from you, and the idea of you giving him the silent treatment was torturous.

He would do just about anything to get you speaking to him again, even if it meant being the one to cave and apologize first. He missed the sound of your voice, and he'd do anything to hear it again.

⚽︎ bf! hector who can't help but gush about you in front of his friends and teammates.

"Man, do you ever shut up about her?" Marc would tease him, pretending to be annoyed. "We get it, She's great."

But no matter how much he teased Hector, it wouldn't stop the smitten footballer from talking about you.

⚽︎ bf! hector who loves imitating you, often teasingly mimicking your mannerisms and expressions just to get a rise out of you.

You'd respond with a swift punch to his arm, trying to hide your embarrassment as he chuckled at your reaction. Despite the mock annoyance, deep down, you couldn't help but be endeared by his antics.

⚽︎ bf! hector who exudes a natural air of dominance, but is always willing to let you take the lead when the mood strikes you.

⚽︎ bf! hector who is a passionate fan of Anuel, and typically had no tolerance for those who weren't. But you were the exception.

He tried to convert you many times, but your music taste leaned more towards pop and r&b. Despite his best efforts, you just couldn't get into Anuel's music.

Hector might grumble and complain about your apparent lack of culture, but deep down, he forgave you for it. After all, he loved you more than his favorite artist.

(i think this is just a reflection of how i think, but as a spanish i don't like anuel lmao)

⚽︎ bf! hector who loves seeing your face whenever he pulls out his phone. He had a picture of you set as his wallpaper, and he also had your baby photo in his phonecase.

(idk if that’s weird but couples do it where i live)

⚽︎ bf! hector who loves seeing you in his hoodies. There was something about your petite frame engulfed in his oversized clothing that made him feel extra protective of you.

⚽︎ bf! hector who would consider you his life partner. He sees you as his other half, the person who completes him in every way. He trusts you implicitly and can't imagine facing the world without you by his side.

[anyarose011]

The Most "Wonderful" Time of the Year {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Despite a nice trip to the art gallery and ice skating rink, sometimes, Andy Williams just gets it wrong.

Part 8 of 10 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Swearing, description of nudity (on art), suggestive conversations, minor sexual harassment, a father has issues, fighting, Reader has a knife, and ANGST.

Heyyy guys (senior year, once again, has been kicking my ass and I also started a new mini-series that should be done soon). Again, I'm so sorry for how long it took me to upload and write this, and I know this chapter is short, but I swear it's got good shit in it. It's also fitting to have more chapters around Christmas time since, you know, this be a Christmas movie (yes, Alexander Payne, this can be a standalone movie, but you set it during Christmas so....) Anywho, I hope you like it (and that it breaks your heart :)

Word Count: 5.5k

You hated to admit it, but you actually like history museums. Even though your father always dragged you to them from childhood to adulthood, you didn’t really mind them. Your father’s additional commentary only added to the experience as you walked through the Greek section. It didn’t really for Angus.

“Are we almost done?” He asked.

“Quit whining.” You reprimanded him.

“I’m not.”

Your father chuckled. “What’s your hurry? I thought you liked Antiquity?”

He sighed. “In class, maybe. But I never think about it unless I need to.”

Humming, your father pointed to a casing of ceramics behind you. “Here, what do you see?”

You and Angus turned. Of course, he said. “A bunch of pottery.”

“Look at that one.” He pointed.

You certainly weren’t expecting to see a man diving his dick into a woman as she bent over to pick something up on an ancient Grecian artifact, but there you were in the Boston Fine Arts Museum, jaw on the floor.

“Amy look, a Candy Cane!” Angus teased.

“I hate you.” Was all that managed to leave your lips.

Your father chuckled, shaking his head. “Children, there’s nothing new in human experience. Each generation thinks it invented debauchery or suffering or rebellion, but man’s every appetite and impulse, from the disgusting to the sublime, is on display right here, all around you.” He gestured around the room filled with art. “So, before you dismiss something as boring or irrelevant, remember that if you truly want to understand the present, or yourself, you must begin in the past. History is not merely the past; it’s an explanation of the present.”

Angus nodded. “See, when you say it that way, and throw in some pornography, it’s a lot easier to understand.”

Mr. Hunham glanced over at you, surprised at your lack of outburst. “You’re not going to comment on that?”

“No,” you shrugged. “porn helping men understanding things checks out.”

Angus snorted, turning back to the teacher. “You should try talking more and yelling less in class. You know, most of the kids pretty much hate you. Teachers, too. You know that, right?”

“Hey.” You glared at him as if to say, ‘Lay off’.

Your father nodded, obviously trying not to show the hurt that was apparent on his face. “Well, I appreciate your frequent candidness, Mr. Tully.”

“Sure…” He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down.

It was then you realized another thing about Angus Tully that reminded you about yourself: You only noticed how horrible your words were as soon as you were done saying them.

The rest of your time at the art museum wasn’t as awkward as that entire scene, thankfully. The sun had completely set by the time you had exited, and the three of you made your way to the park. It almost made you laugh how quick Angus was to the booth to rent ice skates.

“Have you been ice skating before?” He asked as you both sat on the bench, tying up your skates.

“Once when I was eight, I think. You?”

“I played hockey until high school.” He finished tying his and stood. “And I go every chance I get when I’m in the city.”

“So, you should only fall if I push you, right?”

“Right.”

You smiled after double knotting your ice skates and approached the entrance to the rink. “My feet feel weird.”

“Yeah, you haven’t been skating for almost ten years.” He teased, walking past you and standing on the ice with ease.

Sighing, you took a step out and immediately started flailing. Still, the two of you laughed when you retreated back to solid ground. “Nope.”

Angus begged. “Come on.”

“Nuh uh, not going to do it.”

“Your dad paid a good two dollars for us to skate, and you’re going to waste it?” He joked.

“Two dollars doesn’t mean anything to my father if I’m dead!”

“You’re not going to die.”

“But-.”

He said your name with the right amount of sincerity and playfulness. “You can hold onto me. I’ll cushion you if you do fall.”

Grinning from ear to ear, you still held onto the side railing, but stepped out onto the ice. Taking a deep breath, you began walking.

“You don’t want to do that.” Angus skated by your side at your pace.

“I’m alright.” You struggled to say.

He scoffed, holding out his hand. “Yeah, I can tell. Come on.”

You stared down at it as if he had never touched you before. Still, you took it. You expected him to pull you out into the center and leave you there for dead (or try to figure out how to skate on your own), but instead, you stayed by the wall.

“Okay, you’re gonna want to lean forward, and just glide; don’t walk.” He explained, showing you.

“I’ll fall.”

“No, you won’t. Just trust me.”

Against what your nervous system was saying, you decided to. Leaning forward, you tried to copy him; and it worked for like a few seconds before you started tripping over your own feet. He caught you, of course.

“Hey, not bad!” He held you up so you could stand.

“I almost died.”

“You’re standing on your own though!” He backed away, and you still were. “That’s a good start.”

You wanted to fire a nasty retort at him, but you could only girlishly giggle. You don’t know how long you spent on that ice skating rink with him. Yes, there would be times when your feet would ache, or you’d be a mix of sweaty from the physical labor of skating and freezing from the cold, Massachusetts air. Yet, as you finally gathered your footing, you felt as if you could compete in the next Olympics.

You couldn’t, of course, but you sure had the confidence to do so.

And it was fun to laugh and talk with Angus. It always was, but it felt as if you were both on an actual date as you skated together. To everyone else on that ice rink, you were. When Angus had completely fallen onto the ice (you didn’t actually push him down, he fell on his own), pulling you down with him, you’d nearly forgotten that your father was chaperoning you two as you laughed.

After leaving the rink and taking your skates back, you walked up a set of stairs with your father and Angus, discussing where to go for dinner when-.

“Paul Hunham, is that you?!” A man and a woman approached the three of you with a gleeful look. “It’s Hugh. Hugh Cavanaugh.”

Your father’s face fell for just a moment before laughing. “Yes! Yes, of course. Wow, Hugh Cavanaugh. Oh, how are you, Hugh?”

“Oh God, what’s it been? Thirty years?” He turned to the woman beside him. “Oh, uh this is my wife, Karen. Honey, this is Paul Hunham; we went to Harvard together.”

She smiled, shaking his hand, then yours, then Angus’. “Hello.”

“Yes,” your dad nodded at Hugh’s comment. “yes we did. Uh, wow; what have you been up to, Hugh? Still in the area?”

“Oh, uh, yes-yes I’m still in Boston. Cambridge.”

“Harvard.” Karen said proudly. “He just got tenure, statistics. He won’t blow his own horn, I have to blow it for him.”

“Okay,” Hugh said to change the subject. “what about you, Paul?”

“Oh, still teaching, we have that in common.” He nodded. “History, ancient history.”

“That’s great, that’s great. Where?”

“Abroad mostly.” Your father lied through his teeth on each word. “On fellowships. Privately funded fellowships. Universities and private academies. Mostly fellowships, you know. I’m currently posted in Antwerp. Just back here for the holidays.”

“So, are these your kids?” He pointed to you and Angus.

“Well-.”

“-I’m his nephew, Laurie.” Angus cut in, then looked at you. “This is my cousin, Amy.”

Karen smiled. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

Hugh squinted his eyes as if to see you more clearly. Then, he chuckled. “Paul, do you know who she looks like?”

Your father hummed. “I would hope me.”

It was weird to hear your mother’s full name come out of a stranger’s mouth. He went on. “Do you see it? Same nose, same hair; you are the spitting image of beauty, young lady.”

Snickering, you didn’t even think of thanking him. “I’ve been told I have more of her temper than her looks. Although, our mouths are the same.”

“I have no doubt.” He laughed. “Paul, do you remember that one time freshman year?”

“Oh yes!” Your father pretended to. “When she-it was that one time during Roman history when Nolan-.”

“-Wouldn’t call on her when she was the only one to raise her hand,” Hugh looked back at you as if you didn’t know the story from the set up. “so she fed all the boys in the room the wrong answers for the rest of the class!”

“Yep,” Mr. Hunham nodded. “even I fell victim to it.”

Hugh was the only one who had relatively been amused by the fable. “Never put you and her together.”

“A lot of people didn’t.”

The group fell into a strange silence after that. Thank God for Angus Tully.

“He’s writing a book now.” He titled his head toward your father. “Tell them about your book, Uncle Paul.”

“My book.” Your father snickered, then immediately played it off. “It’s not a book, really. Just a monograph. Nothing special.”

You decided to jump in. “Don’t be so modest, dad. It’s about, uh, cameras, right? Ancient cameras?”

Hugh hummed, a quizzical look on his face.

“What she means, of course, is the camera obscura.” Your father explained. “You know, the optical and astronomical tool that dates back to, um, the time of Anaxagoras.

“Tell him the title, Uncle Paul.” Angus went back, and you masked your smile for one of curiosity and not at the misfortune of your father.

“He’s not interested, Laurie.”

Hugh smiled. “Sure, I am.”

Sighing, Paul Hunham said with the perfect amount of enthusiasm and disinterest. “Lights and Magic in the Ancient World.”

Hugh nodded before turning back to his wife, and then to your father, clasping his hand on his shoulder. “Well, Paul, I’m so glad you landed on your feet. You look swell.”

“You too. So, swell.”

“I’m sorry about your mother, Amy.” He said to you.

Thinning your lips in a tight smile, you said. “Thanks.”

Him and Karen walked away hand in hand, but he turned over his shoulder. “And we’ll keep an eye out for your book, Paul. Won’t we, honey?”

 She nodded. "Of course. Merry Christmas, Paul. Bye, Laurie and Amy.”

You all wished them ‘Merry Christmas’ as you three also left. Angus wasted no time turning to you.

“What the fuck just happened?!”

“You’re asking me?!” You matched him. “You sprung into ‘Tell them about your book, Uncle Paul!’, ‘What’s the title, Uncle Paul?’.”

“I had to think of something!”

Your father sighed. “I appreciated your efforts, but I would’ve been fine on my own.”

Rolling your eyes, you asked. “Can we get dinner now?”

“I need to pick something up from the liquor store first.”

Sighing overdramatically, you and Angus stumbled behind your father. That was when you looked at the boy beside you. “Also, Laurie and Amy? Really?”

“What? They’re like brother and sister. If I said you were Jo, then that would’ve been weird.”

Oh my god, he wasn’t even halfway through the book.

You wish you had a camera solely to capture the look on your father’s face as he turned over and stared at both of you. You wonder if that was when he found out about you and Angus.

Shaking your head, you didn’t know whether to laugh or scoff as you said. “Unbelievable.”

“What do you mean ‘unbelievable’?” Angus questioned. “Jo and Laurie get married in the end, right?”

“Unbelievable.” You repeated but smiled this time.

“Right?!”

Your father sighed as you finally made it to the store. “Look, the fact of the matter is, what happened, happened, and we should just pretend it didn’t.”

Angus furrowed his brow as you all walked in. “I thought Barton men don’t lie. Don’t get me wrong, that was fun, but you just lied through your teeth.”

He held up his hand, not having it. “What I say during a private conversation is none of your goddamn business. You’re not to judge me.”

“It wasn’t a private conversation; your daughter and I were there. Besides, he brought her into it.”

“I’m right here.” You announced yourself.

“Why’d he ask if you landed on your feet?”

Your father glanced up from searching through the shelves. “What is this, Nuremberg?”

“You’re the hardass constantly telling everybody not to lie and going on about the honor code!”

Looking up at both of you, Paul Hunham sighed. “There was an incident at Harvard with my roommate.”

You gave him a look. “I’ve never heard this story before.”

“He accused me of copying from his senior thesis. Plagiarizing.”

“Well, did you?” Angus asked.

“No! He stole from me.” Your father relented. “But that blue-blooded prick’s family had allies on the faculty. I mean, their last name is on a library, so he accused me in order to sanitize his treachery. And they threw me out.”

“Holy shit,” you breathed. “you got kicked out for cheating?”

“No, I got kicked out of Harvard for hitting him.”

Angus asked. “You hit him? Like punched him out?”

“No, I hit him with a car.”

“You got kicked out of Harvard for hitting a guy with a car?!”

“By accident,” he approached the counter, talking to the cashier. “Pint of Jim Beam, please.”

You piped up, still in astonishment. “Mom said you left because your grandma was dying.”

“She was, it was just perfect timing to go and help take care of her.” He shrugged. “But my roommate broke three ribs. Which was technically his fault, because he shouldn’t have been in the road.

“Two dollars, please.” The cashier said.

Your father took his wallet out, continuing his story. “Also, he shat himself; which was the greatest indignity.”

The cashier handed him the wrapped-up bottle. “Here you go, killer.”

You couldn’t help your laughter at the sudden statement. As the three of you left and walked down the darkened, cold roads, Angus said.

“So, Mr. Hunham never even graduated college? Holy shit, you didn’t even finish up somewhere else? Who else knows?”

“Did mom even know about you hitting the guy?” You asked.

Your father nodded. “Of course she knew! She gave me an earful on the phone the first time she called me after I left. It was only Dr. Greene who knew it after that. He’d always believed in me, so he gave me a job. Adjunct faculty: zero respect and even less pay, so nobody batted an eye, and I’ve been at the school ever since.”

“Are you ashamed at how things turned out?” Angus questioned.

“Not at all. I’m proud of my work, I love history, I married the smartest and kindest woman on the planet, I helped raise a spitfire of a girl, I love Barton. Barton is my life now. I don’t know what I’d do without it.”

“Then why did you lie to that guy?”

“Because I knew he’d relish the fact that I’m a washout and never left my own high school. And he’d probably repeat that story to everybody we used to know. So, I figured he’s not entitled to my story. I am. “

Angus nodded. “Yeah. Fuck that guy.”

“Exactly. Fuck that guy!”

“Fuck him, I hope his car slides on black ice and crashes into a lamp post.” You chimed in.

“Woah,” Angus gasped.

Your father said your name scoldingly.

“What?” You scoffed. “It was weird as hell when he talked to me about my mom like he knew me.”

“I’ll admit it was strange and unnecessary.” Your father tossed his arm around your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

He looked at both you and Angus. “But you’ll keep this quiet, right? No one is to know.”

“Entre nous, sir.” Angus nodded. “Entre nous.”

Your father nodded then chuckled, poking you. “‘Ancient cameras’. Where’d the hell you come up with that?”

“I tried my best!” You whined. After the men ceased in their laughter, you then said. “Can we please get dinner now?”

“Alright, alright.” Your father snorted. “Where would you like to go for your absolutely atrocious food concoction?”

“South Street.”

“I figured.”

And that is where the three of you went. It shouldn’t have surprised you it was packed the day after Christmas, which was also a Saturday. It had to have been a miracle you managed to get in line only when it was starting to go out the door; a few minutes after you arrived, the line had started to curve around to the nearest streetlight.

The diner was filled with life once you got in; families pushing tables together, friends absolutely drunk off their asses laughing, even half of the staff seemed to be enjoying the sheer joy from others. Of course, a few were understandably stressed and annoyed from the number of customers and their behavior.

The three of you were soon sitting at a booth. When Angus sat close to the window, instead of sliding into the seat across from him, you took the one beside him. Leaving your father alone on the other side. To ordinary people, it perhaps didn’t mean anything; but you still felt as if it was a signal.

“I can’t believe they’re still playing Christmas music.” Your father grumbled as The Ronettes sang about a sleigh ride and he slipped off his jacket.

You giggled, copying him. “It was just yesterday.”

“I know, but still.”

“I like this song, thank you very much.”

He held up his menu as if to hide his disgust. You and Angus chuckled.

"I feel like I’ve been here before.” Angus looked around.

“You don’t know if you have?” You asked.

“It feels familiar. Maybe when I was a kid?”

“We’d always come here when we’d visit Boston.” You looked at your father. “The owner gave me a free banana split when I turned twelve, he knew us so well, right?”

That managed to pull a laugh out of him. “That he did. If he’s here tonight maybe you could get a free dinner for us.”

You and Angus looked down at the menu before you, and soon enough, an exhausted waitress came by to take your drink orders and lay down silverware. Immediately, you asked for French fries and your favorite milkshake.

“There’s no way that’s going to be good.” Angus pointed out.

“Oh, ye of little faith.” You scoffed.

“That’s not faith, that’s fact.”

“What you’re speaking of is an opinion, not even a theory. If you ever want to make it in this world, I suggest you learn the different between those two before you can even begin to comprehend what an actual fact is.”

“And what is an actual fact?”

“You’re an idiot.”

He smirked despite the fact you insulted him. You also couldn’t hide your own smile. It was apparent from anyone in that room, it was not a smile of victory; it was one synonymous with the feeling inside of your chest as it felt like your own heart would burst forth like light.

Your father had felt this feeling before, so it was not lost on him.

“You seem awfully happy to have your entire statement dismantled, Mr. Tully.” He said to Angus.

The boy looked up, still with a smile but one not as euphoric. “I mean, I wasn’t that serious about it.”

“Oh, and I didn’t think you were. It just astounds me how close you two became in a matter of a few days.” He said. “Wasn’t it only yesterday you both were at each other’s throats?”

You stepped in. “No, that was the first few days, actually. I mean, we were the only kids at Barton after that, so it’s probably best we figured how to deal with each other. I guess we both liked some of the same things too, so that made it easier.”

“Yeah.” Angus nodded.

Your father straightened his gaze between the two of you, but then smiled, getting up from the booth. “I have to use the facilities; don’t go anywhere.”

“No papa,” you teased. “we’re going to go do a line of cocaine with the homeless man a few blocks away.”

“You know, I’m beginning to believe that you’re the bad influence on Mr. Tully and not the other way around.”

With that, he left the two of you by yourselves as he walked to the back of the diner. Once he was gone, you and Angus cackled to yourselves.

“Do you think he knows?” You asked, a hint of concern mixed in with delight.

“I don’t know, probably.” He shrugged, still chuckling. “Is that so bad?”

“I mean…I’ve never had a boyfriend before.” You admitted, smiling shyly.

Even though the rest of the diner was booming with Christmas music and leftover excitement from the holidays, it all fell silent between you two. The boy who was once radiated in the happiness you shared with him, now covered in a shroud of terror.

Well…in reality, he was alarmed, not terrified; yet, that is all you saw.

“Shit I-!” You realized what you had just said. “I didn’t mean-I mean, we don’t have to be together, I just meant that I’ve never had someone like me back when I’ve liked them, and even then, it didn’t happen very often-.”

“-Hey, hey.” He stopped you. “No, I’ve never had that happen either. I mean, I’ve been to all boys’ schools since I was fourteen. I think…yeah, I think I’d like to give it a try.”

“Really?” You felt the weight from your shoulders loosen as your face brightened.

He nodded, glowing with you. “Really.”

You glanced up at the bathroom door, and when there was no sight of your father, you took his face into your hands, pulling him into a kiss. It wasn’t as intense as your previous ones, but not as quick as the one you gave him outside the bookstore.

He pulled away first, and before you could say anything about it, you saw the waitress leave from the corner of your eye. She had brought the drinks, including your milkshake and fries. Turning back towards the table, you immediately picked up a fry and dipped it into the milkshake.

“Oh my god, you weren’t joking.” Angus said with no emotion behind it.

“I know I’m funny, but this I would not joke about.” You talked as you ate. “Try it.”

“No.”

“I’ll kiss you if you do.” You took another fry.

“You’ll kiss me anyway.”

“I’ll kiss you like how the French do.”

“You already do that.”

 “I’ll do something different.”

His eyes grew, and he huffed out a surprised laugh. “‘Something different’?”

“Yeah.” You dipped a third fry. “I don’t know what, but I’ll do it.”

 “Not that you have to, but fine I’ll try it.” Angus reached for a fry, then dipped it into your milkshake and ate it.

Angus’ face went through more arrays of emotions in a short time since you met him. You grinned from ear to ear. “Well?”

“Fuck off.” He tried to hide his smile as he took another fry.

“I’m sorry, what?” You taunted.

“It’s not the best-.”

“-I’m sorry, what?!” You repeated louder, and you both were talking over each other. “It sounds like-!”

“You don’t have to be so-!”

“It sounds like you actually like it!”

“You’re so loud.”

You finished with laughter, and then kissed his cheek. You returned to your milkshake and fries as Angus talked about something funny that happened back in the fall. You can’t remember what he said to this day, because a familiar voice entered your ears as it entered the diner.

Angus kept talking to you, but it was in one ear and out the other as you tried your best not to show your discomfort at the man who laughed a little louder than the rest of the people in the diner. When you thought Angus wasn’t paying attention, you glanced over your shoulder at the entrance.

There he stood; a man around the same age as your father with a woman perhaps ten or fifteen years younger than him, holding a baby on her hip, and clutching her seven-year-old daughter’s hand.

Despite what Andy Williams was singing from the jukebox, this was not the most wonderful time of the year.

Angus tapped your shoulder, and you drew your eyes away to look at him.

“Hey, I hate this song, I’m gonna go change it.” He said. You got out of the booth for him to stand, and once he did you sat back down. Only for him to then say. “Okay, scoot over.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Scoot over.”

“You didn’t even change the song.”

“I changed my mind, it’s not that bad.”

He was bullshitting you, but you scooted over anyway, and he sat beside you. “What’s going on?”

You scoffed. “You’re the one that got up and sat down again.”

“Is that guy Daniel?”

“Angus-.”

“-Tell me.”

“Is he bothering you?”

Both you and Angus looked and saw the man from the entrance stand before you with his hands in his pockets. You dropped your gaze.

“No, he’s not.”

You had no idea what you hated more that night: hearing a man you never met say your mother’s name, or hearing a man you knew too well say yours.

“If he is, just say the word and-.”

“-He’s not bothering me.” You hissed.

Angus slipped his hand into yours as you kept your eyes down, but he kept his trained on the man standing in front of him.

He sighed, shaking his head. “Look, I just didn’t expect you to actually show up.”

You didn’t say anything, so Angus did.

“Could you go? She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He ignored him, still angling on you. “Look, sweetie, you don’t have to, and I get it if you don’t want to, but I’d really like it if you came and meet them. They’re all right here now; Carol, Maria, and Frankie. He just turned one last week-.”

“-Can you just fuck off?” You finally looked at him.

He tilted his head and raised his brows before looking at Angus. “Young man, could you give her and I some privacy-?”

“-No.”

The man looked at you, scoffing. “Jesus Christ, what’d you do to make him so fucking head over heels for you? Was that the issue just now between you two? Under the table action?”

Angus stood. “Fuck you, what’s your problem?”

You pulled on his sleeve, hissing his name and kneeling on top of your seat to try and get him to sit back down. The man continued to taunt him.

“My problem is that you don’t know what’s going on boy, and you’re being a little prick about all of this.”

“Get the fuck out of here or I’ll…”

“‘You’ll-you’ll what?’” He looked over at you. “I can’t tell if you picked the bravest or the stupidest kid to fool around with, Eurydice.”

You were always a strange child growing up. Perhaps it was that there are times in your life you picture music whenever a certain emotion arose within you.

As you heard him say that name, a name that you heard last when your mother was dying in her bed, a name that was only for her to use and her alone…You heard Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saëns.

You don’t even remember grabbing the stupid butter knife from your silverware, just raising it up above you and believing it would cause any harm. As Angus held you back, the man reached over you to grab your hair.

Chaos ensued for a moment in the diner as you cried out when he pulled the ribbon out of your hair, and both him and Angus engaged in a battle of expletives. Most of the diners held back and watched in shock, while only two of them came up. A man stood between him and Angus, and the wife of the yelling man pulled him away.

“Daniel, what the hell is going on?!” She hissed.

“Yes, Daniel,” all eyes fell onto Paul Hunham, who was behind Daniel. “what is the meaning of this?”

You shrunk back in the booth, Angus hugging you tightly against him as if to hide you from Daniel. Both of you stared at the scene before you.

“Paul…” Daniel nodded, standing taller and holding his wife’s hand.

Mr. Hunham nodded back. “Your Christmas went well I take it?”

“It was fine; yours?”

“Just peachy.” He gave a tight smile, looking around at everyone else. “Family matters everyone, I sincerely apologize.”

Hesitantly, the crowd went back to their own business; or they were at least good at pretending to as they eavesdropped. Mr. Hunham continued.

“Why’re you here exactly?”

“The same as you.” Daniel explained. “Dinner with my family.”

He hummed. “And you thought it wise to inform the child in the scenario but not me?”

“Now wait a minute-.”

“-I assume your wife also didn’t know about this or the letters and money you sent?”

At the mention of her, Daniel’s wife scowled. “Danny, what’s he talking about?”

He shook his head. “Hunham, you should just mind your own-.”

“-Well now you see, I can’t do that, because her mother trusted me to provide and care for her.”

It was only then did Angus Tully understand what exactly had been going on. As the adults fought, he looked down at you in his arms. It was as if it were the first time he had seen you, and it was the first time he noticed that he could not find a trace of Mr. Hunham.

The eyes he thought you had gotten from your mother stared up at him with dread, and when Angus looked back at the man seething with unspoken rage, he saw them there too.

“Look,” Paul sighed. “I don’t want to cause another scene, so let us handle this like men. You will not make contact with her again, and we can walk away.”

He took a heaving breath before responding. “Fine by me. Come on, Carrie.”

Daniel began to lead her away from your booth, but Paul stopped them. “I believe you have something of my daughter’s.”

His eyes trailed down to the ribbon in his hand. He let go of his wife to walk back to Paul who held his hand out. Instead of giving it to him, he turned to Angus, smiling. He handed it to him.

“Keep her on a short leash, boy. She’s got her mother’s mouth.”

With that, he and his wife and children left the South Street Diner. You only pulled away from Angus when he did from you. No tears had fallen onto your cheeks, but that didn’t mean they weren’t stinging your eyes as you tried to keep them at bay.

You took the ribbon from Angus only for it to hang loosely at your side. Paul softened his gaze as he began to put on his jacket.

“I think we should just settle on room service tonight.” He said gently. “I can get them to bag up the fries and let you take the milkshake glass?”

You could only nod, not wanting to look at either of the men with you. You all put on your coats in silence, and Angus, though not hugging you, hovered as Mr. Hunham spoke with the staff; both about not wanting to report the incident, and also on paying extra for you to take the glass.

It was so cold out, and everyone was so tired from not just the events of the night, but the entire day, that Paul splurged on a cab for the three of you back to the hotel.

Angus also didn’t feel shame in trying to hold you hand in front of your father; or…stepfather. You limply held his hand back, but you leaned against him as you sat in the cab, staring at the Boston Christmas lights as the city passed by you.

When the cab made it to the hotel, you led the way in a tired haze to the elevators. It wasn’t just the three of you in the elevator; there was a somewhat large family that piled in, all merry and jolly and reeking of chlorine from the pool they had just swum in.

It was as if God himself was rubbing salt into the wounds, tempting you to lick them.

When you made it onto your floor, you also led the way back to your connecting rooms. There was no ‘Goodnight’ or ‘Can we stay up just a little longer?’ to your companions; you simply opened your door and shut it in their faces.

Setting the milkshake down, you tossed off your jacket and pulled your shoes off. Collapsing on the bed, you looked down at the ribbon still in your hand…and you cried.

[honeydippedfiction]

hi lovie!! can i request anything from the established relationship list for tee higgins please 🤍 love all your writings!!!

1k & Birthday Bash nav | main navigation | reqs | table of contents

#15. Sighing and pouting loudly because you haven't paid them any attention. & #30. Falling asleep within minutes of you playing with their hair or scratching their back.

Tee Higgins x black!femreader

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

The television flickered quietly in the background, some rerun of a college game playing with the volume turned low. The living room was warm with early evening light, slanting in through the wide windows, casting soft golden bands across the hardwood floor. But none of it was enough to distract Tee Higgins from what he considered a grave injustice.

The sun had begun its slow descent behind the skyline, bleeding a soft, syrupy orange through the living room windows. It painted everything in a kind of sleepy glow—the oak coffee table, the framed photos on the wall, the curve of her collarbone as she sat with one leg folded underneath her. Her phone glowed in her hand, casting soft light on her face, the light brown undertones of her skin catching the sun in a way that Tee Higgins always thought looked like warm honey.

Tee watched her from the other end of the sectional, arms crossed over his chest like a scolded child, his long legs sprawled out, taking up way more space than necessary. The TV was on—ESPN muttering in the background—but it might as well have been on mute for all the attention either of them gave it. He sighed once.

Loud.

Then again. Louder.

He shifted, making a big show of adjusting the blanket, letting the leather couch groan under his weight. Nothing. No reaction. She just kept scrolling, eyebrows occasionally lifting at whatever she was reading, lips curving in the faintest smirk that wasn’t for him.

He waited.

Still nothing.

Across from him, nestled on the other end of the couch, his girlfriend remained unbothered, her attention fully claimed by whatever was on her phone. Her legs were tucked underneath her, one hand supporting her chin, the other casually scrolling. Her skin glowed in the amber light, rich and smooth like polished mahogany. Her natural curls were piled into a loose bun, a few strands hanging down the side of her cheek in a way that made Tee want to be mad at her for ignoring him and kiss her at the same time.

He sighed again—this time louder, more pitiful.

Still, not even a glance.

“Damn,” he muttered, shifting with the grace of a man twice his size who was trying very hard to make noise while pretending not to.

She blinked, maybe halfway aware of his antics, but didn’t look up. Not even a hum of acknowledgement.

Tee sighed again—this one dramatic enough that it almost echoed. He let his head fall back over the edge of the couch, arms hanging limply now in full surrender.

“I’m dying over here,” he mumbled.

“You’re not dying,” she replied, without glancing up.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

He sat up slightly, twisting toward her like she was the one being unreasonable. “You’re really gonna sit over there and ignore me like I’m not suffering in silence?”

There was a pause—just long enough to make him wonder if she was really about to ignore that too. Then she smirked without looking up.

She finally looked at him—just briefly—and then looked back down at her phone. “You weren’t silent, Tee. That was your third sigh in under two minutes.”

He scoffed. “That’s restraint. I could’ve been groaning since you picked up your phone.”

Now she rolled her eyes, lips twitching.

“You’re a grown man, Tee. You’ll survive ten minutes without being the center of attention.”

“But I’m suffering,” he groaned again, heavier this time, letting his head roll to the side like his neck had lost all strength. “You see me? I’m fading away right in front of you. I’m wasting away.”

She snorted. “You’re 6’4” and built like a truck. The only thing wasting is your self-control.”

He gave her a look—wide-eyed and hurt, like she’d just called him ugly on live TV.

“Wow. So cold,” he mumbled. “A man comes home after training camp, emotionally vulnerable, physically depleted—”

“You ran six routes and caught passes for 45 minutes,” she cut in, still not looking up.

“—and all he wants is his woman to love on him a little.”

“I do love on you. You just want constant praise. You’re like a golden retriever in cleats.”

“I’m a very handsome golden retriever, though.”

At that, she finally laughed, the sound light and rich, and it made Tee’s chest unclench just a bit. She shook her head and set her phone face down on the coffee table.

He pressed on. “You really gonna leave me like this? Lonely. Starving for affection.”

She set the phone down with a slow exhale, turning her full attention to him for the first time since she sat down. “You had two team trainers massaging you this morning. And a cold tub. And a nap. And protein pancakes.”

“None of that counts,” Tee shot back, folding his arms again. “That’s not the same as you scratching my back and telling me I’m your favorite human.”

“You are my favorite human,” she said, easing toward him now, amused despite herself. “But you’re also the most dramatic.”

“I learned it from you.”

“Boy, please.”

Tee grinned then, victorious in his small, petty battle. He watched as she slid closer, her warmth already sinking into the space between them. Her skin shimmered slightly in the last slants of sun, and her curls—loose and full and slightly wild—fell forward as she leaned in toward him.

She pushed the blanket aside and patted her lap. “Come on, you big baby.”

Tee didn’t hesitate. He curled toward her like a plant toward the sun, resting his head in her lap with a satisfied groan that made her laugh. “Finally,” he muttered. “Equilibrium restored.”

“Mmhm. You act like you didn’t get 112 receiving yards last week. You’re spoiled.”

“And sleepy,” he added, eyes already drooping. “I got hit like... three and a half times. That takes a toll.”

She chuckled, brushing his hair back gently from his forehead. He relaxed instantly, the tension in his shoulders easing under her touch. Her nails traced slow, looping paths down the center of his back, and she felt him exhale—deep and heavy, like his whole frame was deflating.

“Right there,” he murmured. “You know that spot.”

“I know all your spots,” she said, voice low, affectionate.

He smiled lazily but didn’t reply. The muscles in his face softened. She shifted a little to make him more comfortable, letting his full weight settle against her. One hand moved into his thick hair, her nails scratching gently along his scalp in slow, practiced rhythm. His body stilled completely.

Two minutes.

That was all it took.

She heard his breathing even out, slow and steady. The rise and fall of his chest was rhythmic now, peaceful. His mouth parted slightly, lips relaxed, and one large hand dangled limply off the edge of the couch like he’d melted entirely.

She tilted her head, watching him sleep. So much strength, all wrapped in softness now. Tee Higgins, who could bulldoze defenders and outrun nearly anyone in the league, was out cold in her lap because she scratched his scalp.

She ran her fingers through his curls once more, slower this time, her touch more tender than teasing now. There was something about watching him like this—unguarded, quiet, utterly at peace—that filled her chest in a way no words ever really could. It wasn’t just the attention he wanted. It was her. The presence. The closeness. The safety.

She leaned back against the cushions, letting the moment stretch. The TV played on, forgotten. Outside, the city began to dim, the sky bruising into deep indigo. But inside, the living room stayed golden and still, the kind of stillness that only came with love that was safe, rooted, and full of unspoken things.

Tee shifted once in his sleep, tucking his face slightly deeper into her thigh. She smiled.

“Big baby,” she whispered again, softer this time.

But she didn’t stop touching him. Didn’t stop running her fingers through his hair.

She wouldn’t.

Not for a while.

[hermuseros]

You wanna try it out? Caleb X You

Chapter Two

Tumblr: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 AO3: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Synopsis: Caleb is determined to be your first everything, and lucky for him you're not that hard to convince.

AN: Caleb being manipulative, only a little. First times, eventual smut. I'll link the next chapters on each post as I upload them.

You’re 20 the next time you and Caleb both manage to get a month off school at the same time. Excited, you call him on the phone and you both choose to spend your summer break together at Grans.

The slight butterflies you’ve been feeling ever since your phone call ease as soon you see him, doing a double take as he walks into Grans kitchen. He’s grown so much, both height and width, his aviation standard-issue shirt stretched tight across his chest and arms.

“Holy shit pipsqueak I don’t remember your legs having all that muscle?” he says, scooping you up into his strong arms.

“Speak for yourself, what are those, double D’s?”

“Too long have aviation pilots suffered. I will not be objectified, I demand respect.”

You fall into an easy routine because things have always been easy where you and Caleb are concerned. For the most part. You walk to the shops, prepare dinners together then spend your nights recommending films and shows to each other. Gradually, a tension you didn’t know you were carrying eases. Your heart feels full, he’s still Caleb, your Caleb. The unspoken kiss lays dormant between you, a secret just for the two of you.

Occasionally the memory of his lips hovers at the edge of your mind. You watch the line of throat moving as he drinks for a beat too long, or sometimes a particularly mischievous grin will make your mouth feel dry. You hold it there like a bouncer, heart heavy. You refuse to let teenage folly interfere with your adult relationship.

Caleb doesn’t seem to notice and hasn’t even inquired about your dating life. In this way three weeks of warm, comfortable domesticity pass, until your college, automated and pragmatic, diverts a package from your dorm to your current place of residence.

They’ll need to invent a new word for the kind of mortification you felt coming home to see Caleb flipping through “Learning to Love Myself: a Woman’s Guide to Anorgasmia.”

The word would describe the feeling of being dunked into ice that paradoxically set you on fire, that made you want to throw up and also throw yourself off the nearest building.

When Caleb’s sees you seeing him holding your book his whole body flinches, a ruddy blush going all the way to his ear tips. He snaps the book shut.

“Uh… we, uh,” he stammers.

You feel stripped bare, your heart freezing in your chest.

“We always used to… open each other’s mail…” he mutters.

“Uh!” Is all you manage to get out before striding across the room to swipe the book out of his limp hand. You turn to make a hasty retreat to your room before freezing in the hallway, turning back to retrieve the open packaging off the table.

A horrifying clunk echoes through the kitchen. You feel light headed.

Oh. That’s right. You’d also ordered a vibrator.

When you finally make it back to your room you throw yourself on your childhood bed, face hot, glaring at the large “DIVERTED” stamp on the envelope until Gran calls you down for dinner.

At the dinner table you can’t to meet Caleb’s eye. He's trying his best to engage you in friendly, normal conversation, but you’re still finding it hard to form coherent thought. His gentle smile does let you relax a little, he even offers you his share of dessert.

You take it, it’s the least he could do.

You excuse yourself to bed not long after dinner, feigning illness. About an hour later you hear a timid knock at your door.

“Come in, Gran.”

“It’s me.” Replies Caleb.

“Oh.” You say, chest suddenly tight.

He pushes in meekly, holding two cups of tea.

“Grans already racked out,” he says warmly, “she gets sleepy so early these days! Not nearly as spry as she used to be.”

The tightness in your chest eases a little, perhaps this wouldn't be a big deal after all. You know he didn’t really mean to invade your privacy or anything, he was probably just feeling a bit cheeky. You really did used to always open each other’s mail.

“She’s got a few good years left in her Caleb. Don’t worry.” You say, taking your tea.

His thoughtful eyes narrow, brows low. “It’s not Gran I’m worried about, pipsqueak.”

You choke as you take a sip.

“Oh my god, what wrong with it?!”

He snorts, drawing a small whiskey bottle from his pyjama pocket.

“Irish tea. Sorry, couldn’t help myself! Wanted to see the look on your face when you didn’t expect it.”

“Eugh, it’s foul!” you say, wincing.

“Give it a chance, it’ll grow on ya.”

His eyes are twinkling as you take another sip. The taste of it shoots straight up your nose, making your throat burn but it does leave a pleasantly warm sensation in its wake. You’ve not really tried hard spirits before, just sweet rice wine a classmate had snuck into the dorms. You elbow Caleb playfully as he takes a swig.

You sigh deeply into your cup. Growing up these moments with Caleb had always been always so precious to you. Like life was a secret adventure just for you two. He drains his cup, a clear challenge, and you follow suit but can’t help pulling a face. His warm laughter makes your heart soar.

“Sooo,” he says, pouring more into your cup, “we gunna chat about what happened?”

You feel a sudden lump in your throat, “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

Caleb's eyes pause to examine you over the rim of his cup.

“In fact,” you say, “I think I must have hit my head at some stage. Short term amnesia.”

He raises his brows in exaggerated shock. “Sounds serious.”

“A terrible tragedy, it’s also contagious,” you inform him grimly, “anyone in my proximity will also unfortunately entirely forget this afternoon.”

His breaks into a smile, laughing, but then furrows his brows again.

“I am sorry pipsqueak, really, but c’mon. We’re both adults now, yeah?”

“Eugh,” you say, flopping back onto your pillows, “really Caleb?”

“Well since the amnesia will surely erase all of my memories soon I’ll just say if there’s anything you wanna talk about,” and he catches your gaze, holds it “and I mean anything, there’s nothing you could say that would…”

“….would what.” You say, warning in your tone.

“Just… nothings off the table, yeah?”

Your palms feel sweaty so you grip your tea cup little harder and take another sip and it goes down a little easier this time. This means either the whisky must be either killing your taste buds or you’re finally becoming accustomed to it. You’re not sure why your heart is racing, it could be that Caleb knows your awful predicament but you do wonder if it could also be your deep, burning urge to talk about this with someone, anyone! There was nobody at college you felt close enough to for such a sensitive topic. In fact, the only person you’ve ever felt close enough to to be that vulnerable with was…

You abandon your empty cup and throw yourself back on the bed, shoving your pillow over your face.

“Caleb!”

He lays down on your bed, moving closer to you and propping himself up on some pillows in anticipation.

“What!”

“I just!” you sigh heavily, hugging your pillow and fixing your eyes on the ceiling.

“Can’t get off?”

You throw the pillow at him, and he spills whiskey on his pyjama pants.

“Shit! Hey! C’mon! We can be mature about this.” He wipes at the spill with your sheets, “you wanna read that book a bit together?”

“I really don’t. It’s been stressing me out so much!”

“Has it… always been like that?”

You groan, “I cannot have this conversation with you.”

“Why not?” He says, a little flat, “because you see me as your brother?”

His voice sounds tight and you know if you say yes, that’s literally the exact reason, that it’ll push him away and the conversation will be over. You realise that you desperately want the chance to talk about this with someone, even if its Caleb. Perhaps he’s right, you’re adults! This could just be a new chapter in your adult relationship. You flop back on your pillows again.

“It’s not so bad, Caleb. It’s just been…ugh…. difficult… since I moved out.”

“Are you with a guy?” he says, and you can feel his eyes on you.

You snort, as if you’ve had time to meet someone, your dreams of college romance have been quite thoroughly dashed on the cruel rocks of your insane workload.

“No. It’s just… difficult all of a sudden.”

Gives you a curt nod, brows furrowed, and you can practically hear the gears start turning in his head. This was a mistake, you hate it when he goes into ‘fix-it’ mode. He’s like a dog with a bone, especially when that bone is upsetting you.

Your chest feels suddenly tight so you sit back up, pulling your knees together.

“You got any more of that foul stuff?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

He holds your gaze as he takes a long pull from the bottle before passing it to you. His throat and collarbone are dramatically lit in your bedside lamplight. You take the bottle quickly, and his brows furrow.

He exhales sharply, “Maybe you’re just stressed about study?”

“I wondered that too, but it was never a big problem before.”

This was still Caleb, so despite the pleasant fuzzy warmth making its way up your spine you weren’t about to go into gory detail. You’d spent many frustrated evenings in your dorm room, wrist cramping trying to work out why you just couldn’t…

“Maybe you just need a hand.”

He sounds resolute, and you’re suddenly aware of your proximity. He’s lying on the end of your bed, propped up on a pillow, his forearm is touching your leg.

“Maybe, but good luck to me finding someone with all the free time I don’t have.”

“I see.”

“Well!” you say, shrugging half-heartedly, “Cheers to that I guess.”

You fumble for the bottle, perhaps the taste is growing on you, or perhaps you just need something to quell your heartbeat. Maybe this conversation isn’t helping after all.

“I guess I’ve got my book now so…”

“You…wanna try it out?”

His steady low voice hits you like a physical blow, like he remembers that moment in the car so long ago as vividly as you do. When you lower the bottle to tell him off you’re horrified to see he’s holding the petite vibrator. He was just teasing you!

“Jesus Christ. Caleb! How did you find that? Give it back!”

His eyes are alert and on you, he holds it just out of your reach.

“Why not? We’re adults who can work together at solving adult problems, aren’t we?”

He lets you snatch the vibrator out of his hands, and you feel cold sweat on the back of your neck.

“Caleb, for once it’s really not a problem you can help me with!” you stammer, tossing the offending object into your bedside drawer.

“Says who?” He retorts, as if you’re just being stubborn. Your breathing feels shallow and you feel suddenly lightheaded, but you can also feel a more worrying development, a pooling of warmth between your legs. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt yourself getting this turned on.

Your eyes glance over at the bottle of amber liquid. Surely he didn’t bring this here with ignoble intentions? A ludicrous thought, it’s Caleb! It’s just the stress of the topic you assure yourself, you’re just feeling overwhelmed.

He sits up, pushing his sleeves up. “Don’t overthink it.”

You study his face, his lips are pressed together into a thin line. His stupid, handsome face.

You shake your head, pointing an accusing finger at him, “What makes you think you’re so great that you could get me off when even I can’t get me off!” You’re astonished at the words coming out of your own mouth, you shouldn’t even be entertaining this line of thought.

He’s just teasing you anyway.

“I can.” He says, jaw set.

“And what if you can’t?” you say and you can’t seem to stop the quiver in your voice, you hate how it sounds.

“Oh, I can.” He says, leaning in, hand on one knee.

You think back to the kiss you shared and how it had actually helped you in a funny way. It was to build more confidence, you would say to yourself, to make you less nervous for your first actual kiss. You tilt your head, still trying to read his face.

The kiss didn’t really count with Caleb, did it? So why should something like this? There’s a dull, insistent throbbing between your legs now. It had been so long since you’d come that it had become something of a worrying fixation for you, thus the book, so just the fact that you could feel that was reassuring. That could be enough.

He leans in further, breaking your train of thought, “I notice haven’t asked me to leave yet.” He says.

His gaze is locked on yours and you realise suddenly that there’s not much room for two adults on your child sized bed. You used to be able to sleep in here together just fine.

“You’re just teasing me…”

“I’m not.” He says firmly.

You're too scared to look down to see if this conversation if affecting him as much as you. You shake your head again.

“You’re mad, Caleb! What are you even suggesting?!”

“Just lay back and relax, I’ll help.”

“Help,” you scoff, suddenly hyper aware of how close he is, “and just who have you been ‘helping’ these days, hmm? I thought you’d be too busy studying to chase girls.”

“I’m not with anyone.” He says, brows lowering.

You can feel just how wet you are against your panties. If you do this, he’ll see how much he’s affected you. If you do this, you might be able to come again. What are you even thinking!?

“No, Caleb, I can’t believe I have to say it! It would be too weird!”

“Wasn’t weird last time, was it?”

You both know what he means.

You bite your lip, trying to ground yourself. Your head feels a little fuzzy, but you’re not nearly tipsy enough to blame alcohol for what you’re about to do. All you’d have to do is say yes.

The silence stretches between you until he breaks it.

“Please.” he says, his low voice catching.

“...Alright.”

His mouth parts in shock, like he didn’t actually expect you to agree. Heart pounding, you stand up from the bed, switching the bedside lamp off so only the moonlight illuminates your room. Your mind is spiralling in on itself. It’s Caleb, it’s not right, we’re adults, it’s different, it’s not weird technically, it’s very weird actually.

You let out a sharp exhale, “You really want to do this?”

He nods mutely.

You step out of your sleep shorts and panties, steeling yourself like you do before going into battle. You can hear Caleb's breathing behind you, but he hasn’t moved. Despite your bravado this is your first time undressing like this in front of a guy, even if it is just Caleb. You sit back into the bed, knees pressed together. The atmosphere too tense, which is silly, since this is just… an adult problem that a good friend is helping you with.

You’re adults, this is fine!

You snort, “Y’know if you can’t do it I’ll never stop making fun of you.” You say.

That breaks whatever spell he was under, and he exhales a deep breath.

“You relax, I’ll fix you right up.”

He slides himself across your bed, down to where your legs are firmly closed. You haven’t actually discussed what his ‘help’ will entail and you’re wondering if perhaps you need to make some sort of plan when he parts your legs like a physician.

“I guess you’re always good at helping me solve problems,” you say, trying to keep the vibe casual. You’re not sure why, this isn’t romantic. It’s not like its sex or anything.

“Yeah,” he mutters, gazing between your thighs, eyes glassy and there’s no way he can’t see how wet you are, “always wanna take care of you.”

You can hear the slight tremble in his voice and you consider putting your pants back on and pretending this never happened.

“Hey now, don’t get nervous on me.” He says, and strokes up the inside of your calf slowly, like he’s calming a dog.

“Eugh! This is silly, sorry, I…”

He pushes your knees further apart.

“Don’t worry, I got you.” He says, lowering his eyes back to where he’s parted you open. A tingling sweeps up the back of your neck, prickling at your cheeks and ears.

Under his gaze you can feel yourself throbbing and you let out a sudden sigh of relief. It still works! Yes!

Caleb starts kissing up your thighs.

“Hey! I thought we were just gunna…”

He lets out a breathy laugh and you can feel it hot against your naked thigh, you're surprised at how good it feels.

“Well pipsqueak, if you’d actually read any of that book you’d know that proper preparation is important. Just try to relax.”

He goes back to kissing up your thighs, moving agonizingly slow. You try not to squirm under him, mortified at the childhood pet name. You’re feeling yourself rapidly losing control of the situation.

“Just..do it!” You say boldly, and part your legs further, you sit up on your elbows and gently push his head lower.

He lets you push him down, eyes round, then all to quickly you feel his mouth on you and you can’t stop your sharp intake of breath. There! Less talking! More fixing!

Any modicum of power you might have gained in that move is completely undone when his lips part around you, so soft and so gentle you have to force your hips not to buck up into him. You’ve never had anyone put their mouth on you before and the sensation short wires your brain.

He’s not doing much more than kissing you, but it already feels so good you’re suddenly breathless with the possibility that you might actually come to fast.

The room spins slightly, what if you still can’t… what if….

The contact of his warm tongue on your clit has you throwing your head back onto your pillows, covering your mouth to suppress the awful noises that threaten come spilling out of you. This was a terrible idea, it’s too much like sex, it’s…

You feel him break contact and he lets out a breathy laugh. The sensation leaves your nerves there tingling.

“Wow. Here I thought this might be a challenge.”

You want to quip back, retaliate, but you can’t seem to find anything to say. You’re trying to claw for some sort of response when you realise he’s sliding a finger into you. Your hips buck into the sensation.

“Oh. Fuck.” He mumbles, taking a shaky breath before pushing back in. He's stroking you with his tongue, slowly increasing his pace and you're lost in a swirl of sensation, his finger slides easily in and out of you, a gentle but insistent. You’d never thought to try both sensations at once and it's simultaneously disorientating and so, so good. You can help pushing up into his mouth, desperate for more contact.

“That’s it,” he says as he sucks you back into his mouth hungrily. Hearing Caleb’s voice wet and undone with arousal, Caleb who’s audibly overwhelmed by you pushes you over an edge you didn’t even see coming.

You come, hard and deep, clamping around him, pulsating. You squeeze your eyes shut and see stars dancing behind your eyelids. After all that it was too fast, too easy. Your legs feel shivery and weak.

“Shit! Oh my god… fuck.” You say eloquently.

His finger are still inside you, moving gently as if he’s reluctant to break contact. He’s gazing up at you steadily, smiling like he always does when he’s pleased with himself.

“Dunno what the problem is here pips, or is this just like when you’re too lazy to open a jar so you make me do it?”

You tense, oh my god what just happened? You claw for your sleep shorts, limbs heavy. Caleb doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get off you.

“Hah! Wow, Okay… thanks!” You say, chest tight, and try to move your hips back.

A strong arm moves to your lower belly, pinning you to the mattress.

“Oh no, I want to make sure everything is in working order.” He says, eyes gleaming.

He pushes another finger inside you, slow and relentless, and the way he’s angling his fingers towards your pelvis is making you feel all shivery. He’s leaning his shoulder against your thigh, forcing them apart as he watches his own hand in fascination.

“You’re so reactive, look at you.” He says, almost to himself, “I want to see you come again.”

He increases his pace and you're so wet you can hear yourself being worked on his fingers. You cover your face with your arms as waves of pleasure start building again. You don’t want him to stop, so you finally let yourself relax into the moment. It feels good, so fucking good, the sensation of fingers other than your own inside you. Caleb's strong, confident hands are so much bigger, his fingers pushing deeper than you could manage on your own. You can help but keen quietly into your mouth.

As the shivery sensation builds you let yourself look down at his face. His eyes are glassy, tender, and his free hand is idly stroking circles on the skin of your thigh. You didn’t even know you could come just from penetration like this, and it hits you in a different way, a full body spasm that arcs up your spine to the tip of your head. A clumsy moan breaks free, and the sound of your voice like that, animal and needy, makes you cringe.

“More,” he says roughly, “let’s see how much you can take.”

He pushes both your legs up until they're pressed against your body, licking roughly up the length of your tender flesh.

His lips quickly find your swollen clit and he takes it into his mouth again, relentlessly pleasuring you because of course he does, determined in a way only Caleb can be when he gets fixated on a problem. To have all Caleb's energy focused between your legs is more than you can bare. When he starts sucking again you can’t hold back, and your third orgasm leaves you gasping.

Your limbs are loose in his grip as he slowly, slowly gets you off a final time, three fingers deep inside you, gently pressing your tender clit against his hot tongue. Your last orgasm is a gentle one, your legs twitching like you’ve just run a marathon.

You have no idea how to process the experience, you’ve never come that many times at once. You wonder if perhaps your body is catching up on all those missed orgasms. He sits up now to face you, wiping his face with the back of his hand and stretching his jaw, smiling contentedly.

You’re suddenly aware of how you must look, sweaty and blown out. You should say something but you’ve no idea what, you don’t think you can form a coherent sentence.

“Told you I could.” He says.

You finally sit up, wobbly, and look down between your legs to see the mess you’ve made on your bed sheets. Your face heats.

“Oh my god.” You say.

You fumble for your sleep shorts and Caleb, ever helpful, leans down to pass them to you. You use them to cover yourself for now, legs still reluctant to move.

“Thanks,” you finally say, “that really… helped.”

Caleb gives you a secretive grin, and its so familiar you feel your heart clench.

“Always like takin' care of you, pips.” He says casually, standing up to stretch.

“I’ll let you clean up some.”

He gives the excuse of needing to take the teacups to the kitchen, so thankfully you have a moment to breathe. You go to put your panties back on and realise you’ll need a fresh pair.

He was just helping, you think to yourself, as if that makes everything normal again. He was just being kind. Nothing has to change.

The next day the energy between you feels alien, new. Being alone with Caleb never felt like being alone with a guy before, there was never a need to navigate those feelings. Now it’s impossible not the be aware of the line you just crossed.

One late evening you’re watching a movie together. It’s the day before you leave and he had been promising to watch your favourite film with you. You’re trying to act casual, sharing the couch with him like normal but when the edge of his fingers brush against your thigh you start a little.

When you glance up at him he quickly averts his gaze.

“Sorry’ he says, shifting away from you.

“Oh, no! It’s okay!” You say, “just sucked into the movie I guess.”

The silence stretches between you.

“Y’know I love you, right pipsqueak?” He says, keeping his eyes fixed on the television.

Hi voice cracks slightly and you remember this is Caleb. Your Caleb.

“I love you too Caleb, so much.”

Chest tight you nuzzle into his side like you always do, and he puts and arm around you like he always has.

You were just trying it out, nothing more.

[arivsxq]

meddle about chapter 6

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Theme: strangers to lovers, angsty shit

Warnings: smut, hookup, fwb, maybe slow updates

Word count: 3,8k+

Songs: Meddle about - Chase Atlantic

Heartbeat - Childish Gambino

A/N: Hey guys, it's been over a week but I'm back. I have some struggles in my private life that might affect the uploads but I try my best to post regularly. This chapter is a bit short but don't worry I'm working on a longer one. Right now chapter 7 has 6k words. I might post it this week or next, we'll see but til then I hope you'll enjoy this one<3

A whole week had passed since we both agreed on the whole friends-with-benefits thing. And to be honest, the weirdness in the air faded really quickly, but we also didn't get intimate the whole time, so I couldn't quite tell how long the weirdness would be gone. At least I had the time to start all over with my art project and make it watchable this time.

At the weekend, everyone was busy studying for the upcoming exams, while I had to attend another soul-sucking event my parents wanted me to. This time, I kept my mouth shut and didn't speak unless I had to. This was the first night after a long time my parents didn't call me the biggest disappointment. It felt nice. Too nice for my liking. I wasn't used to them behaving this way, but I also wasn't used to me behaving like they wanted me to behave.

I kept my back straight and my smile polite as I stood among a crowd of well-dressed people who spoke in clipped, rehearsed tones. The event hall was grand, with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the scent of expensive perfume and champagne thick in the air. My parents were busy socializing, shaking hands with people I barely recognized, people who pretended to care about each other's achievements while secretly competing for who had the best success story to flaunt.

I hated these events. Always had.

But after hours of suffering, I was driven home by the driver of my parents, and for the first time, I felt like I wasn't a burden to them. Maybe it was my fault all along, and I was being childish and overdramatic. Maybe this was what I had to do the whole time, keep my mouth shut and do what they wanted me to for a few hours. I mean, that's the least I can do, right?

A few days later, I was sitting in the campus library, attempting to shove an entire semester's worth of knowledge into my already exhausted brain.

Spoiler alert: it wasn't working.

I stared blankly at my notes, the words blurring together into an indecipherable mess. Art history. Movements, techniques, dates. Normally, I found some level of interest in it, but today, everything felt dull and suffocating. Probably because my brain was still preoccupied with thoughts I didn't want to have.

Thoughts about that stupid event. About how easy it had been to be the daughter my parents always wanted. About how it had made me feel, lighter, in a way, but also... less. I hated that I was still thinking about it. It wasn't a big deal. I did what I had to do. That was life, right?

I sighed, rubbing my temples. Focus. I needed to focus. I had exams coming up. Real-life problems that needed my attention. The chair across from me scraped against the floor, and before I even looked up, I knew who it was.

Jungkook.

Because of course, the universe wasn't going to let me sit in peace and overthink my existence in solitude.

He plopped down, a lazy grin tugging at his lips as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "You look miserable for someone who is a bit overdressed."

I shot him a flat look. "That's because I am miserable."

He snorted, peeking at my notes. "Cramming last minute?"

"No, I just love spending my free time reading about 18th-century brush techniques."

Jungkook smirked. "Sexy."

I rolled my eyes. "Why are you here?"

He shrugged. "Felt like annoying you."

Of course he did.

I sighed, tapping my pen against my notebook. Jungkook had an annoying talent for making me forget whatever I was brooding about, and as much as I wanted to stay in my little bubble of self-pity, part of me was relieved he was here.

"Did you even study?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

He leaned back, stretching his arms over his head. "Nope. Just gonna wing it."

I groaned. "You can't just wing it. These exams are-"

"Relax, I'll be fine." He tilted his head, studying me for a second. "You, on the other hand, look like you might explode."

"That's because I might explode."

He chuckled, and then his gaze softened slightly. "Still thinking about the event?"

I hesitated. I hadn't told him much, just the basics. That it had been suffocating. That my parents had, for once, not looked at me like I was a letdown. I hadn't told him the part where I wasn't sure how I felt about it.

Jungkook sighed, leaning forward again. "Look, I know you want them to see you. Really see you. But don't lose yourself trying to be someone you're not."

I swallowed. "I'm not."

He raised an eyebrow.

I exhaled sharply. "I just... I don't know. Maybe I make things harder than they have to be."

Jungkook studied me, then reached over, plucking my pen from my hand. "Let's take a break."

I frowned. "I can't."

"Yes, you can." He smirked. "Come on, let's go get food. You're going to fail your exams and die of stress at this rate."

I stared at him, my mind warring between wanting to be responsible and knowing he was right.

Finally, I sighed. "Fine."

His grin widened. "Knew you'd see reason."

On our way out, we nearly crashed into Namjoon, who looked like he was one all-nighter away from complete collapse. His arms are stacked with books, thick ones, the kind that makes you reconsider your entire life's choices, and the dark bags under his eyes suggest he hasn't seen the sun in days. He doesn't even seem to notice us. Or anyone, really. Just a man and his books, locked in an academic death match.

"Dude," Jungkook says, stepping aside before Namjoon accidentally bulldozes through him. "Blink twice if you're alive."

Namjoon blinks exactly zero times.

I tilt my head, eyeing his precariously stacked tower of textbooks. "Do you need help?"

Namjoon finally registers our existence, blinking blearily like he's just now remembering the concept of human interaction. "No, no, I'm good," he mutters, adjusting the books in his grip. One slides dangerously close to the edge, and I instinctively reach out, steadying it before it topples.

"You sure?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

He sighs, clearly not sure, but Namjoon being Namjoon, he nods anyway. "Just... finals. You know how it is."

Jungkook smirks. "Can't relate."

I shoot him a look. "That's because you have the study habits of a cockroach."

Jungkook shrugs, entirely unbothered. "Hey, cockroaches survive everything."

Namjoon barely reacts, just exhales tiredly. "I should go. Still have three chapters to get through before my next class."

Jungkook looks as if he saw a dinosaur. "Is this some rich kid stuff?"

"Jungkook...that's called studying," I say with zero emotion.

He lifts his arms in a motion that makes me read his mind. "no need to get personal" would his exact words be.

After giving him a not-so-friendly look, he speaks again, "And when was the last time you slept?"

Namjoon pauses as if actually having to dig through his brain for the answer. That in itself is concerning.

I cross my arms. "Namjoon."

"Technically, I napped for twenty minutes on my desk," he says as if that's supposed to reassure me.

Jungkook grins. "Damn. That's worse than you, Y/N."

I ignore him. "Namjoon, you're going to pass out if you keep this up."

"I can't fail this class," he says, almost desperately. "If I don't-"

"Yeah, yeah, your entire academic career crumbles, and life as you know it ends," Jungkook deadpans. "We get it."

I shoot him another glare before turning back to Namjoon. "At least eat something," I insist. "We're getting food. Come with us."

Namjoon hesitates, glancing at his books like they might get up and walk away if he abandons them for too long.

Jungkook nudges him. "Come on, brainiac. You'll study better if you're actually conscious."

Namjoon sighs, rubbing a hand over his exhausted face. "Fine. But only for a little bit."

"See?" Jungkook grins, throwing an arm around Namjoon's shoulder as we walk out. "This is why we're friends. We save you from yourself."

Namjoon just groans. "I already regret this."

I laugh. "Too late."

***

Another few days had passed, making today a Friday. Normally, I would be happy, but I knew I would be studying the whole weekend without any break.

Or so I thought.

By the time the evening rolled around, my brain was already fried from staring at the same notes all day. My eyes felt like they were going to melt out of my skull, and the idea of spending another two days like this made me want to throw myself into oncoming traffic.

I sighed, stretching my arms over my head when my phone buzzed on my desk.

Jungkook: Get dressed. We're going out.

I frowned at the screen.

Me: No.

Jungkook: Yes.

Me: I have exams, and you too, idiot.

Jungkook: And you also have a life. Come on, just a few hours. You're going to fail if you burn out.

He wasn't wrong. Not that I was about to admit that.

Me: Where?

Jungkook: That's the spirit. I'll be outside in 10.

I groaned, rubbing my hands down my face. Was I really doing this? Was I really going to let Jungkook drag me out when I should be knee-deep in revision?

Apparently, yes.

With minimal effort, I threw on something decent, not bothering too much because, knowing Jungkook, we weren't going anywhere fancy.

When I stepped outside, he was already there, leaning against his bike like he had all the time in the world. He whistled when he saw me. "Hot."

I rolled my eyes. "This is a bad idea."

"Probably." He tossed me a helmet. "Come on."

I hesitated for exactly two seconds before sighing and climbing on behind him.

Jungkook didn't tell me where we were going, which should've been a red flag, but at this point, I was too tired to fight him. The city lights blurred past as we sped through the streets, the cool air against my skin waking me up more than caffeine ever could.

Eventually, we stopped in front of a small but crowded bar tucked between two buildings. The neon sign flickered slightly, and I could already hear the bass of whatever song was playing inside.

I raised an eyebrow. "Really? A bar? Again? This won't end up well."

Jungkook shrugged. "Thought you could use a drink."

I gave him an exhausted look. "Jungkook."

"It'll help, I promise."

I sighed. "Fine. One drink."

Inside, the place was packed with students who had also clearly given up on pretending to be responsible. The music wasn't deafening, but it was loud enough that conversations had to be spoken close. Jungkook led us to a booth in the corner, ordering drinks without even asking me what I wanted.

Minutes later, I was nursing a cold glass in my hands, already feeling some of the stress slipping away. Maybe Jungkook was onto something. Maybe I did need a break.

That's when I saw him.

Across the room, leaning against the bar, talking to some girl with an easy smirk. My ex. The ex who had fucked my so-called "friend" behind my back.

My stomach twisted. Because of course, of all places, of all nights, he had to be here too.

Jungkook followed my gaze, then leaned in slightly. "You okay?"

I swallowed, forcing a small smile. "Yeah. Totally."

Lies. Jungkook didn't look convinced. His eyes flickered between me and the scene unfolding across the bar, where my ex was now leaning in, whispering something in the girl's ear that made her giggle. My grip tightened around my glass.

"Want me to punch him?" Jungkook asked casually, taking a sip of his drink. He didn't know who this guy was, but he could tell that something had happened between us.

I snorted. "Tempting. But no."

He hummed, tilting his head. "I could just trip him on his way to the bathroom. Real subtle."

"Jungkook."

"What?" He shrugged. "Assholes deserve consequences."

I sighed, forcing myself to look away. I was over it. Or at least, I was supposed to be. It had been months since the breakup, and I had no business still feeling anything about it. But seeing him now, so unbothered, so fine, yeah, it stung.

Maybe it was less about him and more about the fact that I had spent so much time feeling like shit while he got to walk around acting like he never did anything wrong. Like I never even mattered.

"Hey," Jungkook said, nudging my knee with his. "You want to leave?"

I thought about it. I thought about bolting out the door, about locking myself in my room and pretending I never saw him. But then I imagined him seeing me do that. Imagined him thinking I still cared enough to let him ruin my night.

"No." I squared my shoulders. "I'm fine."

Jungkook watched me for a beat, then smirked. "Then let's make him uncomfortable."

I frowned. "What?"

But before I could fully process what was happening, Jungkook was moving closer, slinging an arm over the back of the booth behind me. His fingers brushed against my shoulder as he leaned in, his breath warm against my ear.

I tensed. "Jeon-"

He grinned. "Relax. Just making sure he sees you having a great time."

I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth twitched. "You're ridiculous."

"Maybe." His smirk widened. "But you're smiling now."

Damn it. He was right.

And, because the universe has a twisted sense of humor, when I finally let myself relax, when I finally let Jungkook distract me, that's when my ex noticed us. I felt it before I saw it. That shift in the air, the weight of an unwelcome gaze settling on me.

Slowly, I turned my head, meeting his eyes across the bar.

His smirk faltered. His jaw tightened.

And I, just to be petty, leaned into Jungkook's touch, tilting my head slightly as I laughed at something he whispered in my ear.

My ex's expression darkened.

"Alright," Jungkook murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. "Now this is fun."

I took a slow sip of my drink, my eyes still locked with my ex's. His date was saying something to him, but he wasn't listening anymore. His focus was on me.

Jungkook chuckled, a low and amused sound. "He looks like he just bit into a lemon."

"Good," I muttered.

Jungkook tilted his head. "Want to really piss him off?"

I turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

He smirked. "Come dance with me."

I hesitated. That was a dangerous idea. Jungkook was already dangerously attractive, and if we danced, really danced, there was no way my ex wouldn't take notice.

But wasn't that the whole point?

"Fine," I said, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the dance floor before I could overthink it.

The music pulsed around us, the bass vibrating through the floor. The crowd moved as one, bodies pressed close, the air thick with heat and energy. Jungkook pulled me into him, his hands settling low on my waist as he moved to the beat.

"You sure you can handle this, Kook?" I teased, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He grinned. "You have no idea."

And then he really started dancing. Smooth, fluid movements that had me pressed flush against him, his hands guiding my hips in sync with his own. It was effortless, natural, the kind of chemistry that made the whole room fade away.

I knew my ex was watching. I felt his stare burning into my skin. And then, because I was feeling bold, reckless, and petty, I tipped my chin up, brushing my lips against Jungkook's ear.

"Kiss me," I whispered.

Jungkook stilled for half a second. Just a half second. Then his hands tightened on my waist, and he pulled me in, crashing his lips onto mine.

It wasn't soft. It wasn't careful. It was heat and tension and something electric. His fingers dug into my hips, pulling me closer, and I let out a sound I swore was just for effect. But then he deepened the kiss, one hand sliding up my back, and suddenly I wasn't thinking about my ex anymore.

I was only thinking about him.

The crowd pressed around us, bodies moving, music pounding, but all I could feel was Jungkook, his touch, his breath, the way he kissed me like he meant it.

When we finally pulled away, I was breathless. Jungkook's eyes were dark, unreadable, his chest rising and falling.

"Well," he murmured, lips ghosting against mine. "That should do it."

I blinked, momentarily forgetting what it even was. But then I caught a glimpse of my ex storming toward the exit, and I smirked. Maybe this whole friends with benefits wasn't a bad thing after all. To be honest, this man can kiss, and holy shit, the things I would do to feel these lips again.

"Mission accomplished."

Jungkook laughed, shaking his head. "You're trouble."

I shrugged. "You knew that already."

He hummed, eyes dropping to my lips. "Yeah. But I think I like it."

Jungkook's eyes flickered to my lips again, his tongue darting out to wet his own like he was contemplating something. My heart was still hammering against my ribs, my skin buzzing in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol. And the worst part? I didn't want it to stop.

"Wanna get out of here?" Jungkook murmured, his voice low, intimate, just for me.

I should have said no. I should have laughed it off, pushed him away, made some joke to diffuse whatever the hell was happening between us.

But I didn't.

Instead, I nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

His smirk deepened, and before I could second-guess myself, he was grabbing my hand and leading me through the throng of people. I barely registered the bodies we brushed past, the music pounding in my ears. My focus was only on him, the warmth of his hand, the way his grip tightened slightly like he was making sure I wouldn't change my mind.

Outside, the cool night air hit me like a slap, sobering but not enough to shake off the way Jungkook was looking at me. Like I was something he wanted to devour.

"So..." he drawled, leaning against his bike, watching me with that lazy smirk. "What now?"

I swallowed. I should go home. I should get back to my notes, to my exams, to my sanity. But I wasn't thinking straight. I stepped closer, reaching for his jacket, fingers curling around the fabric. "Take me home." His smirk faltered for just a second, his dark eyes searching mine. And then—

"Yeah," he exhaled, voice rough. "Okay."

The ride back was a blur. I barely felt the wind against my skin, and barely noticed the city lights flashing past. All I could focus on was the warmth of Jungkook's body in front of me, the way my arms were wrapped around his torso, my fingers clutching at his shirt.

By the time we reached my place, I was already breathless. I slid off the bike, turning to face him. He didn't move, just sat there, watching me like he was waiting for me to say something.

"Come inside," I said before I could stop myself.

His eyes darkened. "You sure?"

I nodded.

He killed the engine, swung his leg over, and followed me inside without another word. The door had barely clicked shut before he was on me. His hands were everywhere, gripping my waist, sliding up my back, threading into my hair as his lips crashed onto mine again, hungrier this time. I gasped against his mouth, my fingers tugging at his jacket, and he groaned, deep and low, before shrugging it off.

"This is a bad idea. I have to study," I muttered against his lips.

Jungkook grinned. "Fuck it."

And then we weren't talking anymore. His lips were insistent, pressing against mine like he had something to prove like this was something inevitable. My back hit the door, his hands skimming down my sides, fingers gripping just tight enough to make my breath catch.

I should stop this.

But then he exhaled against my skin, his lips trailing along my jaw, and suddenly, stopping felt like the last thing I wanted to do.

"Let me take all your stress away," Jungkook murmured against my collarbone, his voice low, and rough, his hands slipping beneath my shirt's hem.

I grabbed fistfuls of his t-shirt, dragging him closer, pulling him into me until there was no space left between us. I felt his smirk before he kissed me again, deep and slow this time like he was savoring it. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

Somewhere in the mess of limbs and heat, we stumbled toward my couch. The backs of his knees hit the edge, and he let himself fall, pulling me down with him. I was sitting on his lap, and his dark eyes locked onto mine.

"Want to fuck you so bad," he murmured.

"Stop talking" I whispered back, my fingers tracing up his neck.

Jungkook's jaw tightened, his eyes flickering between mine before he kissed me again. I started feeling him growing harder underneath me, making me let out a soft moan. Without thinking any further, my hips started grinding against his slowly. Jungkook let out a muffled "fuck" against my lips before his tattooed hand trailed down to my ass.

Another moan escaped my mouth when I felt him gripping my ass.

"I'll come if you continue making these noises," his voice is husky, making me wetter than I was before.

I couldn't think straight as soon as his other hand started massaging my breasts. At that moment, I knew I was fucked. At that moment, I knew he had me wrapped around his finger, and holy shit, I hated it. I hated that he had this much power over me right now. That if he would stop, I'd beg him to continue.

"Fuck, Koo," my whines brought out a low groan out of him, and our movements became faster. 

His hand left my ass and went up to stroke my hair. My head fell on his shoulder while my breathing became more uneven.

"I'm so close baby" Jungkook brings out before he said, "Fuck you're so perfect".

A loud whine escaped my mouth and my fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt. And a few moments later, we both came. I should've said something. I should've broken the tension, made some jokes, and kept things light before my brain caught up with my body and started overthinking everything. 

Instead, Jungkook beat me to it.

"Shit," he muttered, "That was..."

"Yeah," I exhaled, turning my head to look at him. 

Silence stretched between us, not exactly uncomfortable, but definitely charged. His fingers traced lazy patterns against my skin, absentminded but deliberate.

"Are we going to pretend this didn't happen?" I asked finally, forcing some kind of normalcy into my voice.

Jungkook tilted his head toward me, his lips twitching into something almost amused. "Do you want to pretend it didn't happen?"

I opened my mouth, ready to say yes, ready to make this easy, but then he dragged his fingers up my side, his touch featherlight, and my body betrayed me with a shiver.

His smirk deepened. "That's what I thought."

I groaned, burying my face in the crook of his neck. "You're insufferable."

"And yet, you dry-humped me."

I moved my head to glare at him again. "This doesn't mean anything."

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. "Sure."

I huffed. "I'm serious. This was just... stress relief. A one-time thing."

"Right."

"Jungkook."

"Y/N."

I narrowed my eyes. He was enjoying this way too much.

"Whatever," I muttered, suddenly exhausted.

Jungkook chuckled. "If you say so."

Silence again, but this time, it felt heavier.  I should tell him to leave. I should establish some kind of boundary before this got messy.

But I didn't.

"Wanna stay?" I said instead, and the next thing I remember is him lying beside me in only sweatpants.

[1980slemasters]

inner demons

a/n: i’ve written this over the span of a few weeks bc my mental health has been down the drain recently and i needed an outlet. i wasn’t sure about uploading this, but here it is anyway

also used these pictures of ashton bc that’s how i imagine he’d look when listening to you rant about how you’re feeling

pairing: ashton x reader

summary: your mental health has been getting worse again and ashton is there to try and help you through it

warnings: depression, self harm, reference to suicide - and please, if you find any of these triggering, don’t read this fic

word count: 3k

✩ ✩ ✩

winter was one of the worst times of year for you. specifically, for your mental health. the dreary, rainy and cloudy weather, days becoming dark hours earlier than in the summer was always hard on you.

your mental health was bad already. you’d been suffering with depression for quite a long time now. it first started at school when you couldn’t deal with exams along with certain horrible people in your classes, that seemed to linger for a few years after you graduated.

just when you thought things were getting better, the pandemic hit, causing you to relapse and become worse than before. you didn’t know how to deal with all of the terrible thoughts that were constantly going around your head, including thoughts telling you to hurt yourself.

and you did, you turned to that to help you cope with feeling so exhausted. in the end, it didn’t really help. but you had nothing else to help you.

until you met ashton irwin. your now boyfriend.

you’d never met anyone as caring as him. he always listened to anything you had to say, he was there for you when you needed to rant; most of all, he didn’t leave after you told him about your struggles.

in fact, he empathised with you. telling you about his struggles and ways he tried to get through them. he promised then and there that he would always be there to support you and would never judge you for any of your thoughts or emotions.

you always appreciated ashton, but you found it hard to tell him when you were beginning to struggle more again. you felt pathetic not being able to cope on your own, you felt like a burden in his life every time you had to involve him in your problems.

this was one of those times.

it had been a long day, or at least it felt like it had been. it was raining all day, something you hated. you hadn’t been able to get out of bed, you hadn’t eaten, only had a drink of water which ashton brought to you before he left the house earlier in the day.

you’d been sitting in the bathroom for the past hour with the door locked. you’d told ashton you were going to have a shower, but, you never got that far. ashton would’ve noticed that the noise of the shower never started, but he’s always been respectful to leave you to whatever you need to do.

it was different this time though. it was too quiet. he was sat in the living room, planning on cooking you both a nice dinner. however, you’d been acting different today. you’d been quiet, not as cheerful as usual when he arrived home from being elsewhere.

you were sat on the closed toilet, leaning against the counter as tears fell down your face. deciding if you were going to do what your mind had been telling you to do. you didn’t want to hurt yourself again, but what choice did you have? nothing else helped. it was practically staring you in the face from where you’d placed the sharp object on the counter.

you looked down at your arms, marks from a couple of weeks ago that were starting to heal properly. marks you hadn’t told ashton about. ashton knew you struggled more at this time of year; he’d been busy recently with work, he hadn’t had time to notice things going even more downhill.

while you were contemplating your choices, ashton had been making his way upstairs. he decided that maybe you needed some company with showering. you told him previously that you find it comforting showering together, so that’s what he’d do.

he entered the bedroom, still hearing no movement. he tried to go into the bathroom, met with the door not budging. just the handle twisting. he couldn’t open the door. you’d locked it.

“sweetheart?” he called out, sudden worry washing over him. “you okay in there?”

you’d jumped at the sound of him trying to open the door, you don’t usually lock it, but it was necessary this time. you didn’t answer him, trying to muffle your cries.

“baby? please answer me,” you could hear the frustration and fear in his tone. “i’m here for you, i’m not going anywhere.”

“i’m fine, ash,” you sniffled. “just leave me alone.”

it came out harsher than you meant it to. your emotions playing a part. you never ask him to leave you alone. that only happened when you were in this kind of situation.

“i’m not leaving,” ashton replied. “talk to me, please, i’m here, whatever you need.”

you let out an accidental loud cry, placing your head in your hands as you couldn’t hold back your cries any longer. you were in so much pain it was hard to handle.

ashton’s heart broke hearing the way you were crying. why hadn’t he noticed you weren’t as happy as normal, why hadn’t he noticed your depression taking a toll again. he should’ve noticed.

“can you open the door, baby?” he asked, trying his luck before he’d have to figure something else out.

“no,” you said with a gasp, your crying almost uncontrollable as you moved to pick the object up from the counter.

your shaky hands weren’t helping, causing you to drop it, making a clanging noise as it hit the floor. you knew ashton would’ve heard it, he would’ve put two and two together. you couldn’t pick it up, crying even harder.

ashton was going through his nightstand already, trying to find the outside key for the bathroom door. he was panicking by now, frantically trying to find it, worried when he didn’t come upon it instantly. until, a light caught his eye on the dresser.

the light reflecting on the key, he quickly picked it up, going back to the bathroom door. he slid the key into the lock, twisting it two times until he heard it click.

he pushed it open, causing you to quickly try and turn away, rushing to pull the sleeves of your hoodie down before he could see anything. you wiped your eyes on your sleeves instead, only glancing over to him for a second.

ashton looked to you first, he couldn’t miss the way you pulled at your sleeves, he looked to the ground, seeing the razor there, but it was clean which gave him slight relief.

he moved it out of the way, walking to you slowly, crouching down beside you. he placed one hand on your knee, caressing his thumb back and fourth, the other on your waist.

“i’m here, baby, i’m here now,” he tried to reassure. “what do you need?”

you shook your head, you couldn’t even look at him. you felt pathetic, like a disgrace. you couldn’t look your own boyfriend in the eye because you were embarrassed about how badly you were handling things.

ashton saw the expression on your face, it was too familiar. the same a couple of years ago, when you were struggling, when you had been harming yourself. he knew what was going on now.

“it’s okay if you’re not doing okay, love,” he said, cupping your cheek in one of his hands, wiping away your tears.

“i’m fine,” you bluntly responded. “i’m always fine, everything is always just fine.”

your hurt started turning into slight anger. angry with yourself, angry with the way you kept going around in circles with your mental health. you got a little better, and then things always became worse. it’s the same thing over and over and over.

“baby—“

“just leave me alone,” you folded your arms, pushing his hands away from you. not thinking straight with the other thoughts clouding your mind.

“i don’t want you to be alone,” ashton softly replied, trying to keep calm in this situation. “you don’t have to go through this alone.”

“i’m handling it,” you tried to get a subtle look behind ashton, trying to find where the razor was. if you could just get him to leave—

“angel,” he got your attention. knowing that nickname would stop you from whatever else you’re thinking about. “you know it’s okay if you aren’t doing good, this isn’t something that will instantly go away, there are ups and downs and that’s okay. wherever you’re at now, i’m here to help you through it.”

you cried harder at that. everything was hurting. you were exhausted with life. you didn’t want to keep living like this.

“i’m sorry,” you cried, holding your hands over your face. “i’m so sorry.”

“hey, hey, it’s okay, why are you sorry?” ashton asked, standing himself up as he took your hands in his.

“i— i did it again,” you blubbered. taking a breath to try and control your crying. ashton didn’t know what you were talking about. “i know i said i’d talk to you if i felt that bad again, but i just— i couldn’t bring myself to tell you.”

then it clicked. he knew what you meant. locking yourself in the bathroom, the razor you’d dropped on the floor. you’d been self harming again.

“you don’t have to apologise for that, baby,” he sighed. “it’s not something easy to talk about, please don’t feel like you need to say sorry to me.”

you were quiet after he said that. trying not to keep crying the way you were while also trying to figure out what to say next. his hands were still in yours, not planning on letting go any time soon.

“i thought things were getting better,” you complained honestly. “i was happy travelling with you the last two months, and as soon as we got home everything started crashing down on me.”

“being on tour was a big distraction for you, a new city every night, seeing places you’ve never been before, you didn’t have time to think about anything else,” ashton reminded. “now we’re home, there’s days where we have nothing going on, it gives your mind time to overthink and for those bad thoughts to come back.”

you didn’t say anything after that, ashton could tell it wasn’t helping with you sitting in the bathroom, the razor behind him on the floor. he pulled at your hands softly, urging you to stand with him. thankfully you did, walking with him as he lead you through to the bedroom. he took you over to the bed, only letting go of your hands so he could sit back against the headboard.

“come here, love,” he held one arm out, waiting for you to get comfortable.

you sat down, shuffling over to him. your head resting against his shoulder, his arm around you to keep you close. he pressed a delicate kiss to your cheek, causing you to look up at him.

“i don’t know what to do,” you suddenly spoke. ashton allowing you to get your thoughts out. “this feels never ending, it feels like there’s no way out apart from—“

“baby,” he cut you off before you could finish your sentence. he knew what you were going to say, but he didn’t want to hear it come out of your mouth. “i know it’s hard, and i hate that you’re feeling like this again. you deserve so much happiness and i wish there was more i could do to take your pain away.”

“it hurts, ash,” you started to cry again, tears dropping down your cheeks continuously. “everything hurts so bad.”

he pulled you tighter against his chest, one hand on the back of your head, slowly running through your hair. he pressed soft kisses to your forehead every few moments, trying to let you know how much he loved you and that he was right there with you through this.

as your crying started to calm down, ashton took one of your hands in his, stretching out your arm slightly. you looked up at him, wondering what he was doing.

“can i see?” he asked.

you weren’t sure at first, but eventually nodded your head. he gently pulled up your sleeve, each mark, scar and any new cuts revealing themselves to him. you sighed seeing the upset look on his face.

“they’re horrible,” you sniffled. tugging your arm away from him. “i’m sorry.”

“they aren’t horrible, baby,” ashton held your hand. he ran his thumb over a couple of old scars, then he lifted your arm up, pressing kisses along the length of it. “they show strength. it shows you’ve been strong enough to fight to stay in this world.”

you didn’t know how he could see it like that. in your own head, it showed how weak you were, how bad you were at coping with life.

“you’re the strongest person i know,” ashton continued, pulling your sleeve back down as he kept your hand in his. “it takes strength to admit you aren’t doing good, so i’m proud of you for telling me.”

“i don’t know what to do, ash,” you slouched further into his grip, cheek pressed against his chest. “nothing’s getting better, i don’t know what to do to get better. this cycle is becoming too much to deal with.”

ashton could’ve cried hearing you say that. knowing the person he loved is feeling so defeated broke his heart. he would do anything it takes to make you feel better, to try and help you.

“i’m here for you, baby,” he stroked his hand softly through your hair. “anything you need me to do, just say the word, i promise i will always be here for you.”

“i don’t know what else will help,” you sniffled. “therapy didn’t work, the meds made me feel worse, there’s nothing else. i have nothing else.”

“you have me,” ashton cupped your cheek in his hand, lifting your head to look at him. “if you want me to listen, if you need advice, if you want me to distract you, or if you just want me to hold you while you cry, i'll be here. no matter what.”

he leaned down, kissing your forehead before pecking your lips a few times in a row. finally getting a small smile out of you. if he could see your smile every day, his life would be complete. that’s all he wanted. for you to be happy.

“i’m sorry for being like this again,” you sighed. not holding eye contact. “i don’t know how you put up with me.”

“i’m not putting up with this,” ashton shook his head. “i care about you, more than anything, i’ll do whatever it takes to make this a little easier for you to get through, because you can get through it.”

you shuffle down, your head resting on his stomach as you close your eyes. tired out from the chaos of your own mind.

“we could take a few trips,” ashton suggested. “you love travelling. i know you still have that list of places you want to visit.”

“i do, but…” you paused, opening your eyes as you squeezed ashton’s hand in yours. “what happens when we come home? i’ll just be like this again.”

“we’ll try and find other things for you to enjoy,” ashton was determined to stay positive in this situation. “you love to draw, you love to create art, and i’ve seen the way you watch me play the drums and guitar. i could teach you, give you something else to put your mind to.”

you thought for a moment, wiping your sleeves over your eyes one last time. you couldn’t believe ashton still wanted to bother with trying after how difficult and negative you always were in this situation.

“okay,” you mumbled. ashton was surprised to hear that you’ll do this. “i don’t know if it’ll help, but i’ll try.”

“that’s a start,” ashton smiled. “the best thing you can do is try. even if it takes time.”

you nodded. finally looking up at him. you shuffled yourself upwards, capturing his lips in a unexpected but loving kiss. placing your hand on his cheek softly as you pull away.

“how would you feel about getting a guitar?” he asked, hands on your waist pulling you to straddle him. “i know how much you love painting, we could buy some paint for it so you can make it your own.”

“i could paint little flowers on it,” you excitedly suggested. “and maybe some butterflies too, that would look pretty.”

ashton nodded in agreement, just happy that you were willing to do this to see if it’ll help having your mind preoccupied with something like learning how to play an instrument. he hoped this would help, hating seeing you hurting like this.

“well, the band has no plans on making new music just yet,” ashton tucked your hair behind your ears. “we could take a trip soon… italy maybe?”

“really? you want go to italy before going back to australia?” you asked, one of your bucket list places, knowing how much he wanted to head back to australia after tour ended.

“australia can wait, i want to make sure you’re okay first.”

you let out a long breath, leaning towards him to wrap your arms around his neck, his arms around your back as he hugged you as close to him as he could get you. he kissed your cheek, making sure you knew he would always be there for moments like this.

“i love you,” he said quietly. “remember i’ll always be here, for anything you need. you don’t have to go through this alone.”

“i don’t know what i’d do without you,” you held him tighter. “i love you, ash.”

a few more tears threatened to leave your eyes as you hugged. you truly didn’t think you’d be here anymore if ashton hadn’t come into your life when he did. and now he can be your anchor that grounds you and gives you a reason to try and live this life, no matter how tough it might be.

✩ ✩ ✩

taglist: @hexsdexs @conspiracy-ash @oliviah-25 @superbloomrry | if you would like to join my taglist, please comment here or see this post

[agentwriter]

So, I sort of got an Operation Blackout headcanon. Real angsty too to go with the whumptober vibe so be prepared-

I saw a couple days ago a post about how canonically Rookie was doing the laundry when Herbert nabbed him, and I went “damn, that’s anticlimatic” because I imagined things going a lot differently. Picture this scenario:

Rookie is taking a walk around, knowing damn well that he’s one of Herbert’s targets by being the EPF’s Comms lead, if G and Dot’s kidnappings mean anything. He’s been getting bad vibes all day, so he’s been trying to keep his nerves on check by not worrying too much, maybe it’s just the growing coldness getting to him? Or the lack of sunlight despite being day leaving him uneasy? Either way, he continues on, hopeful that Herbert hasn’t caught onto his location yet, even if he’s obviously the least careful around his secret identity of all agents with how much stuffed he has leaked to the media along the years.

He tries to chill out, and that goes fine until Rookie hears a couple of suspicious clicks ahead and spots a couple crabs looking at him, and in any other occasion Rookie would approach and greet them with open arms, however, these crabs aren’t supposed to be here. They should be underwater, burrowing in lumps of sand until the temperature gets warm enough for them to be cozy around the island…

Unless, these crabs are here for him.

He should’ve guessed Herbert’s crab army would be a part of this whole scheme, the agent blinks once and crustaceans are gone, even so, he can feel their little ways watching him from somewhere hidden now. How long have they been following him?! The EPF’s teleportation system’s been broken ever since Gary disappeared (and no one managed to fix it without him) and he couldn’t really run to one of the resistance’s hideouts and risk their existence- So he decides to run to his igloo that is a bit close and lock all the doors as fast as possible.

After doing that, he hears some bangs coming from outside and immediately figures he’s cornered. Rookie shoots an SOS message to other agents but he doubts he’ll be able to escape his fate, especially when Dot, someone known for being able to sneak past the most sticky situations, couldn’t. While Rookie realizes that Herbert is going to take him away from his friends and leak his agent info like he did with the others he captured, he decided to make one final message.

And here’s another headcanon inside another scenario but just hear me out- Rookie is a comntent creator. Even before he joined the PSA he did silly vlog videos and livestreams where he chatted and game’d a bit. Of course, he couldn’t really upload more of his wholesome content while dealing with Herbert’s dictatorship in Operation Blackout, and since the Club Penguin News was taken over too, Rookie, along with many other penguin content creators, became replacement sources of information for all of Club Penguin that wished to know where to find food, shelter, if the resistance is doing any progress and all that, so basically-

The day Rookie was kidnapped, he did one last livestream.

He barricades the door of his recording room and immediately starts the stream. The viewers can see something’s different just by the way the whole thing is setup, Rookie looks nervous, and decides since this is probably the first thing Herbert will leak when he’s captured, he figures it will eb better if he does it himself. So instead of the usual welcomes and smiles, he starts the transmission with “I’m Rookie. Officer of Public Relations and leader of the EPF’s Communication sector, and I have a small announcement for you all…”

The message is actually pretty short, 6-7 minutes at most, and Rookie is overall very serious despite being apparently nervous. He talks about the Blackout, and how everyone that has resisted Herbert has been suffering, and how the EPF is sparing no effort to bring things back to normal, and apologizes since he’s going to be offline for a while. He mentions other channels that could serve as good sources of information while he’s gone and then asks for everyone to maintain hope despite it all, that Club Penguin has faced a lot of disasters together, and that this one won’t be any different.

By this point, the way Rookie was glancing sideways together with the bangs coming from somewhere off-screen, the chat was begging him to escape.

But he didn’t, using his final minutes to do a personal goodbye. He talks about his friends at the EPF, how all of them are incredibly resourceful and fierce, and especially good at their jobs. Rookie asks them to be strong, just as he’ll try to be now. He’s scared but hopeful, and just then, a powerful blow breaks the door down.

The camera is knocked off into the ground and sounds of struggles along with clicks can be heard, the commotion doesn’t take long either, and when EPF’s tactical team finally arrive on the scene, it’s too late.

Rookie’s igloo is empty of it’s owner, and a couple of hours later, Herbert shares the news with glee along with more confidential stuff, as a treat.

And like that, Operation Blackout continues.

So ye, this is the headcanon. There’s more that could be discussed about it like the other agents reaction (jetkie angst yummy) and how Rookie gets an earful by the Director when everything is over. But that’s the main meat of it. I should probably translate this into proper fanfiction format later (idk if there’s a lot of club penguin fanfic readers out there tho), but it would be nest anyways.

Thanks for reading this ^^

[madhattervanessa]

Valerian Root

This is a blurb I have been writing on for a while - it might spin off into a longer fic but I’m not sure I’ll ever upload it... if I’ll ever do it, you’ll find it on ao3

-

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Deathless x f!Witch!Reader

Summary: As you suffer from another wave of migraines, an unexpected guest returns to your home to take care of you... in more ways than one.

Warnings: Migraines, consensual-ish drugging (It’s for the reader’s health) and sudden appearing in readers living spaces, nipple play, biting, scratching, grinding/dry humping, rough-ish p in v sex

Words: 4646

Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

“I seldomly see you return this often, little witch.”

Your eyes stray from the beautiful scenery and towards the edge of your dream, the fibrillation coming from the deep timbre catching your attention - because despite opium and valerian root making for potent sleep and pain aiding drugs, this was not one of the usual effects.

You find him wandering through the darkness at the edge of the clearing before he manages to come closer, through the soft grass and into the light.

His long coat swishes through the moss and ferns as he slowly approaches, like someone attempting to feed a stray cat. Centuries of experience make him know to be careful - your dreams had always been fragile bubbles of calm and you’d grown protective of them even as a child. Now, more than ever, he was reminded of your first few meetings.

He knows, even cats who have grown docile will bite if given reason.

You purse your lips and avert your eyes towards a pile of books off to the side. He lets his eyes trail over you, the long, lightweight gown that floats just shy off the ground as you sway back and forth on the padded swing you sprawled out on.

He stops just shy of the swing, his presence carefully pushing into your personal space, gently intruding, waiting for you to pounce, retreat… or stay.

His coat is shed as he takes another form, jumping up into the swing with you to rub a soft cheek against your bare leg, carefully nudging the thin fabric covering you.

You smile and set your eyes upon the large, black cat nuzzling into your skin. You reach out and carefully pet his chin, moving on to his cheek before it smashes against your skin again.

A low rumbling purr starts as you continue caressing the soft fur behind his jaw, your other hand reaching for a book to read.

You keep the illusion for a while but then the walls of it shudder again and a slither of pain runs down your spine as the connection to your body strengthens again, the dreaming barely holding on.

-

You groan as you wake, still trying to hold on to the comfort your dream had brought you but it’s too late: The sharp pain and thrumming behind your eyes has returned with viciousness. You forcefully try to relax the muscles in your face as you look over your sun filled apartment.

It’s of no use, though.

So you carefully detangle from your sheets and pad through your apartment towards the kitchen. 

There’s already some darkness creeping over the smooth tiles there. You sigh as the first step brings a cooling sensation underneath the soles of your feet, a short lived comfort.

You click the electric kettle on and grab a fresh thermos before filling it with your hand mixed tea as well as some honey.

As you wait for the water to boil, you hear the pearl curtain in your hallway clatter softly, despite it being absolutely windless in your apartment.

You’ve reached for a knife without much thinking. Your heartbeat immediately feels more prominent than your nausea as you peek around the fridge, down towards the hallway.

No one there.

You’re about to sign off of it being all in your imagination. But checking other rooms would not hurt. It had never been a bad idea in any century.

The kettle clicks and you hear as the water starts boiling.

But as you take a step backwards, the hair on the back of your neck stands and goosebumps litter your arms as you feel a presence stepping closer.

“Put the knife down, little witch.”

You jump, despite the soft murmur, and the knife clatters to the ground.

Two hands quickly envelop your shoulders and pull you back, the knife’s edge only just missing your bare feet.

You turn your head. “Morpheus”, you murmur, returning the fond look he has leveled at you, his hands slowly smoothing down your arms as he takes you in. “I- I have not called upon you-”

“I made time, after sensing your distress.”

He lets you go and carefully picks up the knife from the ground. Meanwhile you are still standing, quite starstruck, trying to make sense of this.

The last time you had seen him had been just months ago, a brief meeting after a hundred or more years of his disappearance. Nothing but a quick reassurance that he was back and would return to you once the rebuilding of the dreaming was done. Paired with a short request to look after a particular member of the Constantine family.

He strolls past you and into the kitchen. As you turn to follow him, another wave of nausea crashes against you and you hold on to the doorframe before deciding to sit down at the desk on the other side of the hallway.

The clinking and clattering from the kitchen grates against your sensitive nerves and you hesitantly open an eye to watch as he fills a teacup with boiling water before sprinkling some of your tea mixture into it.

The clattering stops and you close your eyes again, trying to focus on the distinct silence and the way the air seems filled with his presence.

A soft touch to your knee makes you open your eyes again to find Morpheus kneeling in front of you, the cup of tea in one hand and a small, white pill in the other.

You roll your eyes, contrary to your smile, despite the pain it causes.

“You know I don’t like painkillers-”

“Amuse me.”

You glare at him, your smile falling as you look back towards his offerings. As you reach for the teacup, purposefully ignoring the pill, he levels another soft and openly amused look at you.

“I’ll have the tea. Thank you”, you murmur and he sighs before tilting his head in silent acceptance.

You tentatively sip at your tea, finding at the perfect temperature. He watches closely as he gets up and you take another gulp. The pill is placed on the desk, well in sight of your weary eyes.

“Have it your way, then.”

“I always do. You know Hecate makes sure of it.”

The reference to the Moirai makes him straighten up for a second before he smiles - no doubt catching your remark as what it is. 

You had not just idled around, you had found out where he had been all this time, what exactly he had been up to.

As you sip your tea, he follows his own curiosity, doing what he hadn’t been able to do the last time; carefully cataloging your apartment, the changes, the new additions. One of them being a plush armchair, the blue hues of its padding close enough to his eyes to have reminded you of him, just like the dark wood had reminded you of his attire and hair.

The dull ache in your head goes on and you hardly listen to the sounds surrounding you, trying to focus on your heartbeat.

That is, until you hear the dull sounds of boots falling, one by one, harshly interrupting your meditation.

“What are you doing over there?”

You turn to find him carefully draping his coat over said armchair as a wave of drowsiness overcomes you, his boots already neatly stacked underneath.

His pants follow, leaving him in underwear and a shirt, just like you.

You look him up and down before meeting his eyes and your breath hitches, the urge to get up and join him increasing with every second of eye contact shared between the two of you. But then there’s another wave of drowsiness and the pounding pain in your skull dulls to a gentle knock.

“You put something in my tea-?”, you murmur, your tongue feeling sticky and heavy in your mouth.

You put the tea down and your head lolls to the side before a gentle hand caresses your cheek and your temple rests against the soft fabric of his shirt. The smell of moss and old books from your dream fills your nose, a clear testament to his visit in it just mere moments ago.

“I do have access to more elusive ingredients for potion mixing, aiodos.”

The endearment runs down your spine soothingly as you frown, even though the energy to do so is leaving you steadily.

“Though I admit your mix of opium and valerian root to be quite potent.”

You blink again and feel your old heart slow as if you were a bear about to enter hibernation, your lips tingling pleasantly as if you had sipped some spiced wine instead of tea.

You want to say what you think of his little betrayal, want to curse and spite him-

“Come now, let’s get you to bed.”

You find yourself in his arms, despite your pitiful whine, despite trying to push him away. Your head falls against his chest and suddenly you feel frail like glass.

He carries you through the short hallway with care, his lips at your temple as the fight in you returns for a second, the need to prove you can damn well take care of yourself but a shush and his lips pressed to your forehead makes the seed die before it can sprout.

You sigh and go limp in his arms, then, the numbness traveling from the toes of your feet and your fingertips, up your body with every breath you take.

“Rest now. There’s nothing you need to fear. I am watching over you.”

When you next wake, the moon is barely peeking through the curtains, bathing everything in a cool, glittering light.

The heaviness you feel in your bones makes you feel like you have slept for eons.

It takes you a moment to remember, to become aware of the warm nook of a shoulder you are pressed into, the arm wound around you, the soft breaths fanning over your head.

You glance up at him and find him resting. A rare sight, even in your living spaces, thoroughly secured by runes and protection circles.

You can’t help but smile as you turn and let the flat of your hand carefully roam over his chest. There is no shame in staving off the inevitable a little longer, not after all this time.

So you watch the moon slowly illuminate the altar off to the side of the room and wait, relishing in the calm. It is then that you notice the absence of your pain and exhaustion.

“I trust you are feeling better?” The low grumble underneath your ear almost makes you jump had there not been the steady climb of a second hand towards your thigh.

You sigh in response and rub your leg against his underneath the plush blankets. A low hum sounds in return and you know there’s a pleased smile on his face without turning. The hand on your thigh moves in calming back and forth motions like a pendulum.

You lose yourself in the gentle touch before your hand travels higher, up to his collarbones and you feel him tense for a moment as you trace the lines up to his neck, the links of his necklace. As your touch travels to his jaw, he relaxes again.

It’s quite telling, really, that he is still laying here, instead of leaving you, knocked out cold.

“I feel... exhausted. Thoroughly rested.” You take another deep breath and prop your head up as your fingertips dance over his chin and back down to his throat. There’s the slightest hint of stubble there, underneath your touch and you wonder if it’s to feed into your own desires or if it’s an unwanted symptom of him not resting before taking care of his kingdom.

“You worried me.”

You hum and keep appreciating his form, wetting your lips as your fingers trace the lines of his chest. Inside, the admission had made you freeze and almost catch your breath.

Your eyes flick to his but you find him looking anywhere else, your sleep mussed hair, your shoulder peeking out from underneath the blankets - anywhere so as to not meet your eyes. It is more telling than him looking back but you simply take it in stride.

“I do apologize if I distracted you from your duties, milord”, you murmur, a teasing smile on your face as he finally returns your gaze. He tugs you over himself by your thigh, fully covering himself in you. His fingertips tickle the back of your thigh and you bite your lip.

However, before either of you can start to banter, a distant flutter, followed by a quiet squawk distracts you.

You turn your head and catch a shadow moving outside, then another flutter and the distant sound of bird’s claws on the balcony just outside your living room and kitchen.

You level a glare at Dream from the corner of your eye before you shuffle out of his grip and out of bed.

A call of your name and another sigh follow your footsteps through to the other room. Still barefoot and only in a shirt and underwear. You fumble with your fingertips at the seam of it, only then realizing the black color, the soft fabric- it lifts your sour mood just slightly. The smell of petrichor and sandalwood envelops you, following you, just like Dream’s eyes do.

There.

You spot just the slightest hint of a beak through one of your windows before the small, black shadow flutters to the next.

You hasten your steps in turn and manage to pull the window open before they can hop any further.

They jump, visibly shocked as you face them with a grim smile.

“Hello there. May I help you with something?”

After a few inquisitive turns of their head, they clear their throat.

“I-I-” You take your time to muster the bird, thinking them to be the familiar of another witch but then there’s that smell, that energy surrounding the little spy.

“You’re quite handsome.” The nervous flutter of feathers makes you perk up and you look him up and down a bit more intently as you lean onto the window sill. “You’re Dream’s new raven, aren’t you?”

“Oh- uhm... yeah, I keep an eye out for him, he... he tends to... get into trouble.”

You smile sweetly at him and nod.

“He does. But he is safe here, you know. And I do appreciate my privacy.”

“I-I understand but he’s been-”

“Matthew.” 

The raven nearly jumps off of the sill at the low growl from behind you. 

Pretty name for a pretty bird.

You welcome the warmth pressing against you from behind as an arm winds around your waist. “I told you not to spy on me.”

“I know, Sir, but after yesterday-”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Morpheus reaching towards the window.

“Give Lucienne my regards, Matthew. And please do visit again, I feel like we have much to talk about”, you quickly manage, sensing the impending end of your conversation, and as soon as your last word leaves your lips, Dream slams the window shut right in front of Matthew’s beak.

“I’m sorry about him.”

You arch an eyebrow at that, the word sorry had seen few uses in Morpheus’ vocabulary over the centuries. His nose presses against your cheek, just shy of a kiss.

“Let’s head back to bed.”

You spot the point of a raven’s beak as you just outside the window as he presses you impossibly closer, his lips trailing over your cheek to your neck.

Another arm wraps around you and you watch his hand trail over your collarbone before a thumb briefly rubs against your nipple: cheeky, and yet not to be unexpected from your lover.

“Morpheus-”, you whisper, rendered breathless at the overflow of tender motions. You give into the distraction and avert your eyes from the window.

“Mhm?”

“I’m barely back on my feet.”

“So let’s return to your bed, lover”, he murmurs, already pulling you back, away from the window and out of your kitchen.

You chuckle and turn in his arms, meeting his eyes before you lean against his forehead with your own.

“You should not be so harsh on him, you know? Jessamy’s footsteps are big ones to fill.”

“He is too curious for his own good. He needs to learn.”

“Is that what this is, then? A lesson for your raven?”

“It does present itself as a welcome side effect. Though my visit was motivated by very selfish cravings.” The low murmur makes heat lick up your spine. A knuckle tilts your chin up to his and your lips are captured in a kiss, his nose nudging against yours as his lips delicately press against your own.

The kiss leaves you in something akin to a trance and you follow him through the apartment to your bed, his hands steadily wandering over your body as do yours.

You are tempted to push him against a wall instead but as if he were able to read your mind, then, he kisses you again and holds you tight against him, his hands sneaking underneath your shirt. It sends a thrill up his spine to hear you moan in response, to feel you fit into his hands once more.

He grunts as he walks backwards into your bed but you just chuckle and redirect him.

He sits back and you crawl into his lap, before pressing another kiss to the frown that had presented itself on his lips.

“You know this would be easier in my realm.”

“Mh- but I dislike the journey there too much and you know full well.”

He sits back against the headboard and you settle there together, your hands trailing over his chest as he grabs you by the nape of your neck to pull you into another kiss.

You hum and grab the hem of his shirt tightly as he opens your mouth with his own, your breaths mingling as you inhale each other’s presence.

His hands fit themselves into your waist, relishing in the bare skin underneath as he seems to swallow you whole. He could, potentially. Kidnap you and keep you, like Hades did with Persephone. But he knows better than to upset your matron goddesses.

“You know I struggle with the waking world just as much.”

“If you insist”, you whisper back, a faint smile on your lips before you peck his lips again. As you lean back to take your shirt off, however, he leans in to press more kisses to your jaw and down to your neck.

You sigh in content, melting in his grasp as you let your head fall back. However, when you shoot a quick glance towards your alarm clock, you find the space empty.

As teeth scrape over the thin skin covering your collarbone, you do another double take. But it’s gone.

“Dream-”, you mutter, still distracted, especially as he gentles the rasp of his teeth with his tongue. “Morpheus, where is my alarm clock?”

“Irrelevant.”

You frown and this time it’s you who grabs him by the chin to make him look at you. You lean back to look at him, even though you miss the proximity immediately.

“How long did you make me sleep for?” He purses his lips, the annoyance clear as day on his features. Oh, you could picture it perfectly well now, that glare towards the alarm while you were sound asleep on his chest. One time must have been more than enough, then, for him to make the poor thing disappear.

He sighs.

“Two days.” He trails off, his eyes caught on your lips for a moment before they flick back upwards. “I think.”

“You think?” You let go of his chin and shake your head at him. “Two days. I have a job, Morpheus.”

“That job is pointless. You’re a witch”, he grumbles, pressing another furious kiss to your neck. “Besides, you had fallen ill. No use in working when you can hardly stand.” He tugs you back to fully sit in his lap again, winding his arms around you as if you were a dream about to catch flight in the world. Your boiling anger simmers at the tender motion, if only for a moment.

“You’re not usually this disagreeable with me.”

The murmur is almost lost on you but the memory it procures definitely isn’t. Images of past meetings make your still weak head spin, make you bite your lip at the memory of hastily rucked up skirts and wanton moans that had left neighbors in many a century both flustered and angry.

You lean in to kiss him again, then, because that is usually all it takes, especially when he frustrates you: The memory of time you had spent together when you could.

“Next time you are in distress, call for me.” Teeth nip at your bottom lip, a silent reprimand and you let your fingertips trail over his neck, towards the nape where you can sneak into his hair.

“I have friends and other, less busy lovers for that, Dream. You don’t need to take care of me”, you mutter, tongue too quick and nudging against ancient disputes between the two of you.

The hands on your hips tighten at the mention of the others. While he tolerated your need for more than his sparse visits, he didn’t necessarily like it.

“I’m sorry, I-”

Instead of a wrathful reply, you receive a fierce kiss, one that makes your teeth click. You can taste a hint of blood from where teeth must have pierced your lip but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

His hands gently cup your face and he grunts as you cant your hips against his. He turns the two of you so you’re flat on your back. Your mouths never part, locked in a hot and messy tangle. A tongue nudges against yours and you lose your train of thought. The soft touches quickly escalate into something more desperate after that.

One of his hands grabs your ass to hold you steady as you squirm underneath him, the soft touches underneath your shirt turning into rough groping, his thumb steadily rubbing against your nipples.

You hold on to his shoulder, losing yourself in the kisses exchanged as you gasp for air. He lets you grind your pussy against his hard length, the damp fabric catching on your clit with every one of your combined movements.

It’s a stubborn game, the silence between the two of you. Every time one of you moves to kiss the other’s neck, their jaw, the other muffles their own sounds. When you bite down on his earlobe, a small gasp escapes him and you grin triumphantly as the thrust of his hips jolts you up the mattress with your own moan.

You let your lips trail over the shell of his ear. As you grind your pussy down against him, you moan into his ear and the groan he responds with makes you shudder. Out of the corner of your eye you see him furrowing his brows and both of his hands tug you down harder, his own hips searching for the friction.

Finally, he rips your underwear off of you - you scramble to get your shirt off but he is faster than you, pinning you down to line himself up with your pussy.

You’re abruptly shoved up the mattress and gasp as he presses into you with a rough shove.

“Morpheus”, you whisper and grab his chin to lead him into another kiss.

“What is it? Tell me.”

Your fingertips dig into the bone of his jaw. You would be drawing blood with any of your human lovers, you know that, but he is leaving imprints of his teeth in your skin and you can’t help yourself. You bare your teeth as he leans down to suck at your pulse.

“What do you want?”, he murmurs over the wet skin and you feel yourself growing wetter as you grind against him.

“You know exactly what I want, you just want me to say it. I shouldn’t give you the satisfaction”, you sigh and roll your hips against his a little harder, finding that perfect spot to rub your clit against, a perfect bit of friction that makes your cheeks heat up. “Undress me, Morpheus. I want to feel you. Please.”

He hums and slides his hands over your back, up, underneath the shirt. He pulls it off very carefully and your hands move on to his shirt before your own is even fully discarded. You’re less careful than he is and he seems to approve, visibly impatient as he shuffles you until your chest presses up against his before his lips find yours again.

He starts moving his hips again and you keen into his mouth at the friction. You pull at his shoulders, wanting more but unable to voice it.

You let your hand trail over his back, down until you can scratch your nails over his thigh. It makes him moan, his hips jutting forward until you can grasp it in one of your hands.

“Cunning”, he murmurs but he doesn’t resist your pull, doesn’t so much as blink an eye. Instead he pushes two of his slender fingers against your clit, the slick sound drowned out by your moan.

"Morpheus, more-"

"Be patient", he murmurs and you want to bite at him, your lips already searching for the skin of his neck.

You faintly hear your phone ring but Morpheus pushes his slick fingers between your lips.

You meet his eyes, fully entranced, your legs haphazardly nudged to the crooks of his elbows as he pushes closer, closer until you can feel him bottoming out.

You bite down on his fingers. It changes his sullen expression, his brows furrowing, his lips twitching as he presses his hard cock deeper until you keen and let go. 

Spit slick fingers trail down over your bottom lip before he leans in to kiss you again. The spit smears against your arm before he intertwines his fingers with yours. Your moans are muffled by the kiss, a harsh and passionate thing, aided by tongue and teeth as he thrusts into you.

The headboard creaks with great offense as you grab a hold of the wood and dig your nails into it.

He drags his palm over your arm before it settles next to yours on the bedframe, his nose dipping down to press against your cheek. His thrusts are almost punishing. Every single one is making the breath in your throat catch.

You lean your cheek against your knee that is pushed up next to your head. He follows the movement, his lips smearing against the tendons in your neck.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes, yes”, you gasp, mindless in the pursuit of your own pleasure.

He doesn’t let up until your orgasm burns through you and he has to muffle your sounds with another kiss before he follows with his own orgasm.

You pant heavily as he lifts his mouth from yours. You detangle carefully, your whole body aching. Meanwhile Morpheus is quick to get dressed again before he is off to your bathroom.

You awake to a warm feeling and crack one eyelid open to watch as Morpheus carefully cleans you with a wet, warm towel.

When he is finally done, he joins you in bed again, his hands dragging over your still naked body, his lips pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.

“How do you feel?”

You snort and scooch closer until you can put a leg over his hip.

“Godlike”, you finally sigh. It earns you an amused chuckle and another murmur that you don’t catch over your increasing drowsiness.

[thestraggletag]

Kin, Part 2 of 3

Prompt: Dragon, Transform, Capture, Marriage, Nest

Giftee: @minnl70

Summary: Chosen by the Blue Fairy to slay the last dragon, Belle defies her fate and strikes a deal with the beast, Rumplestiltskin. As they search for a way to break the enchantment, an unexpected bond begins to form, but magic is never without a price—and never quite straightforward.

Rating: M

A/N: Surprise, @minnl70, it's me, your Secret Santa! I'm away on holidays right now but I made sure to properly queue this up for you. If all goes well all chapters of this fic will be posted today, but I'll try to check to make sure they are (and, if possible, also upload the fic to AO3, which I know makes it easier to read). Enjoy and Happy Holidays!

He had arrived at the clearing a good deal before he had revealed himself. He had been half-convinced the summons was a trap, a newfound way the Blue Fairy had concocted to try and trap him. He wasn’t the last living dragon for nothing. He hadn’t outlived his kin by coincidence. While other dragons had hoarded riches he had accumulated power and knowledge, and had honed his understanding of magic and mastery of himself till he had become all but untouchable. No fairy could trespass on his territory, or surprise him. Their usual tricks and wiles did not work on him, and he had stamped down his weaknesses till there were none they could exploit. Until he could feel safe. And he was damned if he let that little slip of a girl threaten that.

She was like all the other ones, he reasoned, only with a little bit more sense, which worked in his favour. Enough to distrust the Blue Fairy, and make a choice to try and save herself, if only temporarily. He couldn’t kill her yet, but couldn’t risk her being used a second time against him. So he would find a way to dissolve whatever connection the Blue Fairy had concocted between them, which bound him to her mortality, and then he’d dispose of her. At least she would die knowing her people were safe, which is more than he could say for himself.

In the meantime, there was no reason why he couldn’t have a little fun watching her struggle, watching her try and survive in his castle, away from her servants and creature comforts. With that in mind he went early in the morning to check on his little maid, eager to see what a miserable night of sleeping in the damp, dusty floor had done to her posh look and gentle manners. Her brave facade was unlikely to have survived the night, surely.

The first thing he thought when he opened the creaky door to her cell was that it looked cleaner than he had imagined it. The strewn straw that had covered the floor before had been gathered into two piles, one of straw that was wet or mouldy and another of cleaner straw, where the chit had no doubt slept. The cobwebs had been cleared too, and the mouse holes covered with mud. The girl herself sat huddled in a corner, looking as prim as possible, though her hair was a mess and her face and arms were very dirty. Her eyes looked puffy, and her long lashes were still wet. Tear tracks were evident along her cheeks, which gave him a modicum of delight. It wasn’t quite the amount of suffering he’d envisioned, though, which displeased him.

He left her alone until she went out looking for him, and derived only a small amount of pleasure from pointing her towards the kitchen and its meager array of food, imagining the way the apples and the bread would turn her stomach, the way she would have to battle between her hunger and her disgust. He would have walked her to the kitchens himself, but he had other pressing matters. There were magical artifacts and ingredients to collect, and deals to make, after all, so he flew out just after his interaction with the little chit, content on imagining rather than seeing her unhappiness as she got to know her new home. There was no shortage of blood and gore around the castle, especially in the rooms dedicated to his studies. As a dragon he was, by nature, a hoarder. And though most of his kind tended to beautiful things- and it was in his nature too, to seek out what was pleasing to the eye- he had always focused on power. Power in the form of ancient magical items, rare ingredients and potions and knowledge and mastery of spells and incantations. 

His line of enquiry required him to cut open a lot of animals, from common vermin to oxes and the like, either in search of ingredients or to gauge the result of an experiment. Getting someone to clean up the aftermath had always been a chore, given the unpalatable nature of his work, so he never bothered, choosing only to keep clean those rooms that required it for his experiments. There were entire wings of his castle where the air was thick with the smell of rot and death. In time the little maid could, perhaps, get used to the smell. And the mould. He doubted she would ever get used to the maggots or the flies, though. 

The day proved fruitful enough, with the acquisition of two tricky ingredients he had been having trouble getting his hands on and two favours, no conditions attached, to be used at a later date of his choosing. It always amazed him how careless people were, how narrow-minded their view of a favour was, especially with no specifications. Inevitably when he came to collect and named his price someone would say something along the lines of “You can have anything but that!”, as if they had thought to put conditions to their promised favour when they carelessly gave it away.

He kept his visits to the denizens of the Enchanted Forest short but memorable, remaining unseen when it was convenient to him and growing in size and ferocity when he needed to make an impression. Too much exposure and he’d lose some of the reverential terror he had striven hard to cultivate. Not enough and people would grow complacent and forgetful of the monster in their midst. It was a fine balancing act to remain halfway between myth and reality, but he had perfected it over the years. 

When he arrived home he felt the change almost immediately. Though the little chit was nowhere in immediate sight he could feel her presence about, the definite knowledge that he wasn’t alone. It was a strange sensation, which made him twitchy. He went looking for her, finding her making use of an old bucket, a sliver of lye soap and a coarse brush, down on all fours cleaning the kitchen floor. He could see, even in the dim light provided by the few sputtering torches, that it was slow going, since he had sometimes used the kitchen to open up the animals he needed parts from, and over time a layer of crusted blood and dried entrails had accumulated on the floor, and in splatters on the walls. But now the room looked almost like nothing that violently died there, which was quite a feat.

She was looking the worse for it, though, her dress dirty, the robin’s egg blue looking more like murky grey, her hair beginning to lose its shine, hanging more limply around her shoulders. Her eyes, however, remained stubbornly luminous and defiant. 

“I thought you were a maiden, not a maid.”

He giggled at the way she jumped, clambering to her feet, eager to be in a less vulnerable position in front of a predator such as himself. He saw her glance him over- the novelty of his more human form, he was sure, which tended to be more unsettling for humans, in many ways, than his traditional dragon form- before taking a deep breath and attempting a semblance of a smile.

“I’m just making things a bit more pleasant, that’s all. No reason why my stay here cannot be productive and enjoyable.”

He snorted, plumes of smoke coming out of his nostrils and his mouth, and he watched as she followed the smoke around, fascinated.

“At this rate, dearie, you won’t get past the kitchens.”

And she’d be lucky too. He knew what his castle looked like. A noble lady was unlikely to have the stomach to tackle more than a room or two. And it would be to her benefit, since he was hardly the only danger the castle housed. Several of his treasured magical items were deeply cursed, with magic darker than even his own, and would leave his little maid with at least a missing hand, if not something worse. He told her so, cautioning to never enter a room the little wisp he had conjured for her would not dare go into, delighting in the little flickers of fear that swept through her eyes.

She was a silly little thing, that he unfortunately had to keep alive, but more tenacious than he had given her credit for, as he found out after several weeks of uneasy cohabitation. He almost never showed himself to her, but he spied on her when the mood struck him, mostly to make sure she was alive and in one piece, since he had yet to make any advances on how to break their mutual enchantment. She’d struggled with the food at first, until she’d learned to dip the stale bread in water to soften it, and to distinguish between a bruised fruit or vegetable and a rotten one. She made daily use of the well just outside the kitchens, carrying buckets of water, using an ancient wheelbarrow she had uncovered in the barn, every morning.  It was freezing cold, however, which made every bathing experience an excruciating one, he was sure. The kitchen hearth was clogged and there was not readily available wood to build a fire, so she made do with what she had.

He could have easily made things easier, but he didn’t. The complaints he so sought, however, never came. The girl cried sometimes, in the relative solitude of her room, and looked quietly miserable most of the time, but she never voiced an objection towards her treatment, or expressed any outward sign of displeasure. 

The little chit was resourceful, too. With only the barest of tools and surely the barest of knowledge she managed to find innovative ways of doing everything he set her mind to, from cleaning the castle windows inside out to removing impossible stains or even, one time, scraping congealed blood off the rafters of his laboratory, up in the tallest tower. That had been up there for decades, he had no idea how she had managed to wash it away. He barely remembered how it had gotten there in the first place.

She would not give up on a task until it was finished, pausing only to eat or when she retreated to her dungeon for the night. He found it all deeply… unsatisfying. He had wanted to feast in her misery, to delight in the sight of a human wretched by enduring even a little of the misery humans had foisted on his kind. He had thought it would be grand to see a plushy human suffer as they did, but things were not going according to plan. Blasted girl and her blasted iron pride. He understood, as the weeks dragged on and she remained respectful in her treatment of him whenever she saw him but quietly defiant, that his efforts were for naught. The girl suffered, but in silence, giving him no amount of satisfaction.

As time dragged on he found himself displeased with how his little human wilted. How her hands reddened and her hair grew matted, the cold water doing little to truly rid it of the filth and the sweat that she accumulated while cleaning. She had brought a couple of dresses with her, but both were looking worse for wear, and neither was particularly made for the cold temperatures of the castle, meaning that she spent very little time outside, which made her look pale and sickly. 

He frowned. As a dragon, he was naturally inclined towards beautiful things. Things that looked sparkling and valuable. His maid no longer looked like a treasure, and it bothered his creature sensibilities. Besides, he needed her healthy. There was no telling how her declining health would affect him, given their magical bond. So he instructed his little wisp to direct her to rooms in the castle where he knew there was clothing that would fit her. He had looted his fair share of castles over the century and had accumulated all manner of odds and ends. He had a predilection for fine fabrics, having been brought up by a couple of spinsters as a wee hatchling, so he had taken a fair share of gowns here and there, when a particular colour or texture caught his fancy, all of which he had stored in proper trunks, with all the care he had been taught as a child. There were a few things her size, including some that would be more practical for the wintry weather. 

He unearthed a big copper tub from one of the storage rooms, setting it in a corner of the kitchen beneath a pile of discarded linens, as if he had forgotten it there long ago, along with a pile of wood, properly cut and ready to be made into a fire. Then he cornered her just as she was mopping the entrance hall, instructing her to bathe herself properly, telling her the smell offended even his base sensibilities. She opened her mouth, as if to counteract his insult, but thought better of it and closed it instead.

Later that night he snuck into the kitchens, eager to see if the little chit had stumbled into his carefully-placed gifts and had followed his advice. It was immediately apparent to him that she had, since the kitchen was more luminous than usual, a healthy fire roaring in the hearth and the air damp and smelling of vanilla. He saw her curled up inside the copper tub, steam rising from the fragrant warm water- she had found the bar of vanilla-scented soap he had left deep inside one of the cleaning cupboards, along with a bottle of oil for her hair and a pot of cream for her roughened skin, her soapy hair looking almost red in the light of the low candles. Truly a beautiful human, even with dark circles under her eyes and dirt under her fingernails that would take more than a bath to remove. Fragile little thing too, naked and relaxed, not glaring daggers at him or holding her head up high in silent defiance. He made sure to make a lot of noise before retiring to bed, lest the damnable chit fall asleep in the bath and wake up pruned and chilled. 

He began to bring more food from his incursions outside the castle, sacks of flour and oats, fresh milk and butter that the castle’s larder would keep fresh, sugar and salt and spices. He opened up the castle’s orchards, enchanted into a state of eternal summer, so she could get fruits and vegetables and some much-needed sun and instructed the little wisp to guide her there. It was fascinating to him to see her growing healthy again just from a few small concessions, colour blooming in her cheeks and her demeanor brightened.

It was with a perhaps unusual bit of pride that he came to the conclusion that his little maid was a treasure indeed, beautiful in a way that few maidens stolen by dragons had been. He began to feel possessive of her, like he did of everything else he guarded in his castle. His castle reflected his newfound attachment, losing some of its gloominess in favour of letting in sunlight in the rooms she favoured and keeping dust away from places that the girl would usually spend hours cleaning. He let it happen, reminding himself that her presence in the castle was fleeting, and a few temporary disruptions to his routine were not much concern.

And it wasn’t like he was growing fond of humans in general. His frequent incursions into the outside world kept his dislike for them fresh. Greedy little things who thought the world belonged to them alone, who cut down magical forests and chased creatures away from their homes to raze the land to the ground. When he had been a wee hatchling he had been terrified of them, small and defenceless as he had been, with no kin to protect him or guide him. Over time, as he began to grow in power, he started to see humans as petty vermin beneath his notice, except when one was desperate enough to be manipulated into surrendering something he wanted.

But every now and then, very rarely, a human got the best of him. Surprised him in some way he had not been able to foresee. Very few things could even hurt him anymore, but someone had learned that squid ink was one of them, and had seen fit to catch him with a crossbow on his way back to his castle, having previously tipped the arrow in squid ink. Thankfully it hadn’t done any real damage to the wing, the membrane remaining mostly intact, but it burned like hell and rendered his magic useless till the effects wore off.

He managed to keep himself in the air long enough to make it home, shifting to his more human form with enough energy left to drag himself in front of the fireplace of his trophy room, one plume of smoke igniting it just as he yanked the arrow out, feeling chilled and sluggish as he curled up on the stone floor, feeling the squid ink spread inside him like ice-cold water pouring over him. 

He shrugged it off. It would pass. Squid ink did not last forever, particularly on someone as powerful as him. He’d recover in a few days, would get enough magic back under his control to knit the skin back together and move. He was safe in his home and if the girl chanced upon him he trusted she was smart enough to leave him be.

He woke up what felt like days later, and took a moment to take stock of his condition. He felt as lethargic and sluggish as he had anticipated, his magic responding slowly and weakly to his call, but there was no pain, and no discomfort. The overwhelming cold that had taken over him right before he had passed out was gone, and he could feel something soft and heavy draped over him, keeping him toasty warm.

The next thing he noticed was that someone was bathing his face, a soft cloth with warm water passing across his forehead, over his eyelids and down his neck, soothing the slight ache he could feel there, the remains of a fever recently broken. There was a pleasant smell too, like burnt caramel and vanilla, that seemed to engulf him. He turned his head to the side, his nose chasing after the scent, and realised his head was pillowed on something soft. Something that moved.

“Shh, try not to move.”

The cloth was removed, but before he could protest there was a hand carding through his matted hair, nails scraping just so against his scalp, soothing and not at the same time. 

“What can I do to help, Rumplestiltskin?”

“L-little maid?”

He struggled to get out from under the fog he seemed to be trapped in, feeling weak and vulnerable, exposed. 

“Yes, it’s me. I found you like this a day ago. You had a fever, but it’s finally broken. Is there anything else I can do for you? You’re still bleeding, and I can’t make it stop.”

“Get the wisp.”

A dragon’s flame had sentience of its own if a dragon saw fit to grant it, so his little wisp existed independently of his magic, unaffected by the squid ink, so with a flick of his wrist he set it out to guide the maid into his main laboratory, where he stored, in a small, murky bottle, antidote for the ink. He had told her often, during their few encounters around the castle, to stay out of his laboratories. Had gone into details about all the horrible things that could happen to her if she ventured in there. So he expected her to make a valiant attempt at following the wisp only to cower at the last minute, when common sense prevailed over her sickly-sweet disposition. Didn’t matter, though, the squid ink would fade on its own, it would just take a little longer. 

He closed his eyes, intending to rest them for a minute, but when he opened them up again he knew immediately a long time had passed. The next thing he noticed was that there was a complete absence of pain, even the faint headache he had had before was gone, and when he pulled at his magic it answered back readily. He knew before he moved his shoulder that the arrow wound was gone, his muscle and skin having knit themselves together while he slept. He turned towards the fire, noticing a small amber vial next to him, its contents long gone. He recognised it immediately as the bottle where he kept his squid ink counter potion.

So focused was he on that little amber bottle that he almost jumped off the floor when his little maid came into his field of vision, holding one of her ever-present books with one hand and a glass of water with the other.

“Oh, good, you’re awake. I brought you some water.”

“Go away.”

He burrowed deeper into the quilt she had draped around him, trying not to dislodge the pillow she had placed under his head. He thought about teleporting himself to his nest, but he knew his magic was unreliable at best at the moment and it would be foolish to spend himself so when he was just recovering. 

“This is the only fire roaring in the entire castle, and I’m too tired to light the hearth in the kitchen.”

“The wisp can light it for you.”

He knew he was sounding petulant and ungrateful but he didn’t much care. Whatever it would take to get rid of the little chit so he could have some peace and quiet.

“Flicker has done more than enough. He deserves some rest.”

“You named it?!”

He watched as the little wisp came running, as if called, and danced around the maid’s fingers, as if enjoying a caress.

“Some more sleep would do you good, I think. And maybe some food, when you’re up for it.”

He continued to go in and out of sleep, still too weak to feel comfortable using magic but not enough to complacently acquiesce to his little maid’s coddling. Eager for some solitude he tried to scare her away with his temper, conjuring up even a few plumes of fire and more than a bit of smoke, once managing to singe a bit of the hemline of her dress and the spine of one of her precious books. The latter seemed to be the only thing that truly bothered her, causing her to disappear from his side for an entire afternoon. He told himself he was happy about that, but he couldn’t deny the little twinge of relief when she finally came back, carrying a plate with shredded meat and some more water.

“Maybe you’ll be nicer after eating a bit.”

She was fearless, more so than he had previously given her credit for, refusing to shy away no matter what he did to try and spook her. She was, indeed, a most prized treasure, unique amongst humans, which would explain why the Blue Fairy had failed so spectacularly at making her a dragon’s last sacrifice. 

Too good to kill, he decided as he devoured the meat. Once he figured out how to undo what that little gnat had done to them, he would give her some of his gold and let her walk away and explore the world to her heart’s content.

[sokumotanaka]

I've seen endless takes on the "Who should be possessed by Ozma?" Discussion but personally if I'm being honest, besides kinda pointing them in the right directions what does he offer the story besides more character bloat? I've already made the argument that Jaune/Ren/Nora+ Maria aren't needed past volume 6 (Maria barely even teaches her anything besides 'life is precious') which she learned after seeing Pyrrha evaporated.

Personally I think the easiest way to deal with the Ozma compass that exist to tell them to take the relics and gather them all in one place is two ways on just him possessing a brown kid. Oh I'm sorry "reincarnating"

Actual reincarnation with a cavity

Archive Ozpin

Hear me out on these.

Number 1 is long and detailed so we're gonna get 2 out of the way and move on to imo the more interesting one.

Number 2. Is that when Ozpin is about to die maybe say he has a device in his office he presses while Cinder's about to stab him in the chest, Cinder would ask him what he did, thinking it's a bomb or a way to contact someone but what Ozpin did as upload a whole archive of plans, directions and information on Salem from decades of his life- (You could even make it an AI ozpin that would just do things without the input of the cast, making him seem like more of a shady ass.)

Onto the nearest scroll aligned with his school, in a better world this would also be a better written Pyrrha that we would care about so when she dies in the fight, we see Ozpin's archive loaded into her scroll. Ozpin would smile and die, the rest of the buck as been passed down to the 'invincible girl' While Ozpin would reincarnate into a child somewhere that would be useless to the story so this is fine. Fast forwards to Ruby, she looses her scroll in the fall, maybe while dangling from that airship. And when Qrow finds her assumes Pyrrha's scroll is hers, AI oz would unlock it for her as well.

Now here's a double whammy of pain because we can also get tons of messages, recordings, video diaries from Pyrrha that can talk about team RWBY and her team and family etc. Adding on a layer of heartbreak for the characters- and a layer of mistrust as AI Oz might even had fabricated some of those messages to force the cast on, to spur them on. And no matter if they ditch the scroll, he hacks his way onto the whole crew's a "necessary evil" he'd call it. Then not of value is lost in this rendition. Bonus points if he finds a body in Atlas and starts throwing things into motion himself, things that are kinda shitty- AI oz isn't exactly Oz himself but also understands the danger of Salem and will do whatever it takes to stop her.

That I believe is better than making Oscar Ozpin and WAY better than making someone like Jaune possessed by him, like the side character needs more importance.

Now back to number 1. Ozpin can reincarnate but with a special god related caveat- part of me see why Miles despite not knowing what the hell reincarnation actually is, why they went with possession and called it that....because they're stupid. But also, babies...take a while to age, and bringing one on a journey would probably rightfully not fly well with many people.

So my solution would be that we'd...get an Ozpin special, Ozpin would be reborn in a kid named Oscar, a family of faunus farmers (I'm passionate about this considering the last time M/K made him a dark skinned POC, a real black person, he was an alcoholic! Fuck off, then later in life we'd learn they ran out their only black employee too, these racist assholes should never write again!) Anyway; Ozpin has never had a say on faunus racism and has been alive longer than the faunus existed- and frankly has ignored the suffering they've went through. So putting him in the faunus's shoes could help him see this perspective and close alot of doors they'll have to think around.

I love the idea of Ozpin trying to access his wealth, status, etc that could solve problems instantly and having to now plan around his privileged because it's now out of reach and unavailable to him. But yeah back to it- My Caveat also adds to Ozpin's person-hood and the world itself: Ozpin would be born as this farm boy possum faunus, that would as soon as he's born, have all this knowledge, muscle memory and so on from his past life, and we'd see this family watching him grow, they had him a week and he's flipping and catching falling things like a ninja, two weeks and he's 10 already and is training in the yard, and finally he stops at a young 26- the gods made it so that he'd age to peek condition within a month.

And while the mother is confused, she still loves her son, the father on the other hand thinks he's a demon, something must be wrong with him, wants him gone. And Ozpin agrees, he thanks them and leaves, and the mother is saddened by the loss- secretly so is the father- he just is trying to protect his wife. He still looks as Ozpin ans sees his wife's smile, her eyes, the little mannerisms, he still helped raise young Oscar. But he's confused and scared; And the wife misses her son, the person she loves with all her heart her family. "You'll always have a home here! Please, I don't know why you have to leave but come back soon!"

Ozpin realizes this at this moment: Despite being constantly reborn, that these people care about this body, even his body is fighting back tears, he doesn't know why. And as the volumes would go on; we'd see Ozpin write them as he stays in one or another location- and now you care about Ozpin/Oscar because someone else cares as well. And yes he'd help unlock Jaune's stupid power, and teach Ruby some minor abilities with sliver eyes and point her towards Maria (Maria will not just pop up out of nowhere like in canon where she looked back at ruby like she knew but didn't and just....was the only passenger to follow and stay at the back of the train...) She's an active member of the plot that Ozpin knows.

But that's what I'd do if I had to change the Ozpin/Oscar bs. If you got through the whole thing, thanks for reading this BS, and lemme know your thought in the comment below.

[natsuki208]

I Wanted to be Beside You…

Before the Battle of Heaven and Earth commended, Marco and Jean have a bittersweet conversation while tending to their wounds.

(This is a re-upload of a fic I did on ao3 a year ago, to celebrate my 1000th post 🎉)

——————————————————————————

The sky is full of smoke and ashes, the sun is not shining as brightly as before all of this, and the only sound that can be heard is the distant footsteps of the rumbling titans. Thank god that the remaining members of the Scout Legion and the Marleyan warriors manage to set sail with the Flying Boat and make their way towards Eren Jaeger's destination; but at the price of suffering through yet another gruesome battle.

Everyone aboard are still cooling off from the said battle: Armin is still in bed regenerating from the gunshot he received from Samuel, with Mikasa and Sasha checking up on him, Reiner, Annie and Pieck are also resting from fighting in their titan forms for a while, and Hange aiding Onyankopon with preperations as of keeping and eye on an injured Levi. As well as most of them mourning over recently losing the Marleyan general.

Meanwhile, at the rear of the ship, Jean Kirstein has been dealing with some long bandages. He's been helping to aid the wounds of his long time friend, Marco. He took a pretty big blow to his leg by one of the Yaegerists, but got extremely lucky that it is still mobile and he's able to walk. Jean is being as careful as he can be to wrap it up nicely.

Marco hisses a little at the pain in his shin.

"Stay still. It'll only get worse if you move." The tone in Jean's voice is both stern yet concern; clearly he's trying his best not to hurt Marco.

Jean manages to wrap the bandage just right. Once that was settled, Marco rests his head back on the bars of the ship. The freckled man was already torn up on losing an eye and arm four years prior, so it's a relief to him that he's able to keep his leg. Jean starts cleaning up the things he emptied out of the first-aid kit, then he quickly looks over to his friend tending to his wound.

He looks very distress - and it's probably not just from the agonizing pain in his leg. His expression shows he is drifting off into his own world, curling up his legs towards his chest, and the saddening frown that he's had for a long while can make anyone sad along with him. Jean remembers this impression, it's similar to how he behaved when they had that campfire in the forest with the Marleyan warriors, so he can instantly tell what's on his mind.

After packing away the kit, he stands up over Marco and looks down on his disheartened friend.

"Can I sit here along with you?"

Marco catches ear of the question, but simply nods without looking up. Jean sits down a few inches away from him.

Neither of them say anything at first, just to have a minute to themselves as the ocean breeze flows through their hair. If only the situation they are in were different so it would allow them to enjoy the limited peace. On that thought alone, Marco finally speaks.

"T-Thank you for doing this for me."

Jean turns his head around to face Marco. "Of course, we're comrades. Well... base on that fact anyone could've helped, but you're glad that I did, right?"

"Y-Yeah."

The silence returns again. Only breaking with a sigh from Marco's breath.

"You really have changed a lot, haven't you?"

"Hmm? What do you mean?" Jean asks, glancing over and feeling disappointed to not see him smiling.

"Years ago, you mentioned time and time again... that someone like you could never be strong enough to act selflessly in battle.

Just as Jean expected; although a little surprising. This isn't like anything he would ever bring up before, further evidence that there's something bothering him. Then again, he's still right. Jean gives a smile while continuing to look upon his friend; maybe even shifting a bit closer to him.

"I seem to recall a way-too responsible guy once telling me that I can be a great leader but not because I'm strong, but that I understand the weak. Because I'm like everyone else, scared out of my mind, it makes me trustworthy among my comrades. It took me so damn long to realize that, and I owe that guy a lot."

Marco freezes. To hear those exact words he said to him repeated by Jean himself, like they are printed at the front of his mind, he doesn't know what to feel. It reflects back to what such a naïve and desperate boy he used to be - God, how could he have been like this?

Jean rubs the back of his neck while still smiling. "What I'm trying to say is... you're really the most selfless guy I've ever known. So we should all be thankful to you, especially me."

That's the last straw. Marco pulls in his legs further, slightly lowering his head to bury it in them. But he stops himself, takes a big breath which Jean catches on. What could possibly be bothering him now?

"Jean..." Marco starts, letting go of his legs with his one hand. "Do you remember when I first joined the Scouts? And that I told you, Reiner and Armin that I'm doing this 'cause it's better to fight, to protect my comrades and do what's right for humanity?"

"Yes. Of course I do." Jean nods positively.

Marco pauses before continuing. "Well... the truth is... that wasn't my main reason to."

The tone in his voice is quavering, sounding like he could burst into tears any minute.

"The reason why I joined them... it's b-because I wanted to be beside you!"

Jean's expression shows complete shock. He can see the tears in Marco's eye and blush spreading right across his face; he knows that he's telling the truth. They stare at each other for a second before Marco turns away and looks down onto the floor - presumably to hide his ashamed face. Jean can feel himself getting all achy inside, not from the fact that Marco 'lied' to him, but that every selfless move that he did for him ever since they met make SO much more sense now.

Surely Marco was nice to every one of his friends, but he seemed always confused of why him out of all of them, and why he always seemed hesitant whenever he talked or helped out Mikasa. Even after all of that, why is Marco getting so upset about it? Does he regret choosing him over some old dream? No, that can't be it, and Jean has to figure out why.

"I-I'm so sorry, Jean." Marco sobs between sentences. "All this time... *sniff* you think that I'm the most thoughtful person in our world. But all I ever did were ways just to get closer to you 'cause of these stupid feelings."

Jean starts to get infuriated the more Marco spouts out nonsense words and untrue statements.

"You probably only see me as your comrade... or best friend... but I had to let you know. *sniff* After lying to you, almost killing Reiner myself, and allowing myself to fall in for Floch's so called justice... I don't deserve to be seen in the good light. Or even your friend."

"YES YOU DO!!"

Before he knew it, Jean is suddenly right in front of him, grabbing onto his shoulders with such anger in his eyes. Marco hasn't seen Jean like this in a long time with just between the two of them, leaving him scared of what can possibly be said.

"Why the hell would you think such a stupid thing?! You're nowhere near the slightest of a shitty person and you know it!"

There is a pause.

"B-But... I'd..."

"You said it yourself, doing it for me was only part of the reason you're a scout now. How about when you aided Armin with most of his plans? You worrying about Eren when he was in Liberio? You even showed compassion for Gabi and Falco this morning before we left! How can you be so blind to your own actions?!"

Another pause occurs. Giving Jean time to calm his voice.

"You may not think it, but you're still the same Marco that we all came to admire. Surely your world view has changed, but hell, so have all of ours ever since we came here. We still got a great battle ahead of us, and we'll all be needing each other to finish it. We need to bring peace back into this world... and all of us need you to help us... I need you."

Marco doesn't say anything yet, just allowing another tear to fall down his cheek. Jean lets go of his grip on Marco and almost stands up to give Marco his space. But he quickly notices a light giggle come out of his mouth, he turns his head up and sees Marco gleefully staring right back at him, his eye full of serenity.

"Th-Thank you, Jean. I needed to hear that." He says dryly - his throat is still raspy from his crying.

"Yeah." Jean replies with a smile back.

It fades once he starts thinking again. He may never get a chance like this with Marco again 'if' they fail their mission, so why leave things the way they are now? The least he can do is give Marco once last bit of hope. He looks straight at Marco and this time, gently places one hand on his shoulder.

"Marco..."

He hesitates. Leaving Marco mentally preparing himself when he admits that he only sees him as a close friend and comrade.

"I... I gave up on Mikasa years ago."

One line that sets Marco stunned. More so than Jean's reaction when he confessed. Jean's face blushing pure red, even looking away in embarrassment. Marco is both deep down happy and surprised, surprised to realize that Jean has been basically doing the same thing as him, hiding away his true feelings. But he is really relieved and happy that they both manage to say what they want to say, especially right before what could be their last fight against their enemy.

Both men glance at each other for a moment longer, but before one of them can speak, another voice calls for them from the distance. Commander Hange is waving up from an open window in the ship, sounding like they've been calling out to them throughout their entire conversation.

"HEY! I DON'T MEAN TO INTERRUPT, BUT WE NEED YOU TO GET OUR GEAR RUNNING! WE'RE APPROACHING OUR DESTINATION ANY MINUTE, GOT THAT?!"

"Yes Commander! We're on it!" Jean yells back at them.

Marco stands up carefully, using his one arm and Jean walks over to their equipment just beside them then both slowly make their way across the deck. Marco doesn't take his eyes off of Jean. He doesn't notice, but he gives him a small yet gentle smile at him, one that he hopes to give him over and over again once the war is finally over.

[alabasterwasps]

with the tugging of the mask out of the mouth would that mean that Alex just wakes up to a really fucked up jaw and possibly a few teeth out of place; but also in turn when his hand is broken would there be another alter that comes forward? Kind of like Masky was to Tim before it repressed itself, would there be another alter like that for Alex who would take care and try to act like Alex during the few months in between trying to hide from Tim and Brian but also stalking their movements since they don't post anything (if to go by vaguely from the upload timeline for the OG series) for months at a time. And then there would be very few times that Alex would actually wake up in either random places or just in his bed but there would probably be sticky notes or something from his alter giving him a vague list of things that he needs to grab or buy????

I don't know I just remember that there was a story of a woman who has DID and so when she was younger she would write in a journal to communicate to her other alters as a way to get to know them and fit the pieces together. From what I inferred from the little explanation Alex is semi aware of the fact that he has more than one alter in his body and just doesn't know the purpose or what they serve for the body and just knows that a lot of his trauma probably a chunk of it coming from the Operator itself.

Anyways thanks for making more of this AU I adore it to pieces and I also love the art that you've made for it, you're really talented! Also, I'm so sorry that this is such a long ask I just had a few things that I needed to get out of my brain.

Its okay lol! I don't mind long asks.

For Alex, just like Tim & Masky, he sufferers memory blockages between himself and Messie.

He is marginally more aware of Messie's existence because of Jay. He and Jay were childhood friends so he has some vague idea of a him that's not really him that appears sometimes, but frankly as much as it scares him he really tries to ignore it. It's a product of the time he lives in, and that he has way too much else on his plate. I think he's also in general just, scared, which is why he doesn't mention a thing to Brian. Don't get me wrong, he genuinely doesn't remember anything that Messie experiences, but he also isn't blissfully unaware of their existence either.

When Alex wakes up, he does wake up with this fucked up jaw and hand. Messie managed to get them out of the shack and the woods, and he woke up somewhere where he could go get help. Usually, Messie is the alter who takes over for Alex when he's unable to do things for himself (work, self care, etc). Though, much like how Masky limps long after Tim is healed, it.. takes Messie awhile to mentally recover. This is fine though, because at this point Alex is sure concerned about how he got into that much trouble, but he isn't involved with Operator search, for him its just work as normal except he has to experience his depressive episodes.

Messie and Alex will eventually have a way to communicate! That is through notes, and through Birdie (Jay), eventually Brian, but there's a long road of Alex kinda accepting that Messie fully exists. It wasn't until Brian contacted him that he even thought the Operator was real. He thought it was nightterrors he'd had since he was a kid.

[pallas-perspective]

Well, at the time of writing this my posts STILL aren't back. If they really are gone forever I guess I'll have to give a full rundown of everything I do again. For now though, I'll just cover a few basics as I explain today's client, Primrose the Delcatty!

(I was gonna upload a video but those seem to be screwed rn too. UGH.)

Delcatty (for those who don't know) are feline pokemon known for their wonderfully stylish fur. They typically have positive temperaments and will avoid fighting if possible, unless otherwise trained (in which case, their ability to normalize can set up a good paralysis on ground types, which most don't see coming, but that's a tangent). They're crepuscular and normally very good at grooming themselves.

Many people believe that there's no reason for feline pokemon to be groomed at all. Those people are wrong. First of all, it can be a wonderful experience for the 'mon, a great way to relax and feel refreshed. Secondly, there are many occasions where it may become medically necessary for one to be groomed. In such cases, it helps to get them used to things like brushes and water when they are young, so that they aren't suddenly exposed to a bunch of new experiences when they're in a state of distress.

NOW. I've worked with Primrose before and she's very used to the grooming process, so I won't need to speak much on dealing with difficult felines. (Their temperament usually means you have to be much more careful then with most 'mons, especially with how much distress you could cause them.)

Primrose was in for a regular comfort grooming and also to deal with some matting in her bells. Trying to smooth out the fur there can often result in a lot of tugging... which results in most Delcatty wanting to leave. In those cases, shaving out the matts is often necessary. Here though, I was able to brush most of them out by switching between brushes and plying her with treats (yay food motivation!).

It's important to try and get as much of the tangles done in the initial brush as it makes washing and especially drying a whole lot easier. There's not much to say about the washing process here, except for the fact that Primrose loves laying down during it and it means I had to halfway lift her up to get at her stomach (Oscar if you're reading this I had to carry a whole wet pokemon because you weren't here. I'm suffering babe.)

Next up was a towel dry and then the drier. Primrose is used to myself and the whole process, but the noise still stresses her out. That's why I put a fabric band around her head that compresses and swaddles her, keeping her calm and her ears away from any high-pressure air.

Finally I shaved out the long fur around her her paw pads, that way she doesn't track dirt and it gives her better traction... and done!

Her owner does like to battle with her, so I won't be doing anything vis a vis her nails.

Primrose has sensitive skin and thus most poke-safe makeup isn't good for her, but over the last year we've tested out a few bottles of perfume to find one that she is comfortable with AND happy with.

After that, she's off prancing around the room like a Deerling!

If things clear up with this damn website I'll try and get a photo or two of her uploaded but for now...

Thanks for seeing through Pallas' perspective! I'll see you next time!

[charleslelurk]

The thought just occurred to me earlier: oh maybe she's already uploaded the new chapter, lets check. And bang, there it was, uploaded 9 minutes ago!

And it was mega again! You can feel how much they want each other and it was soooo hot. But I feel so sorry for Lando. From the high of emotions to the low in minutes.

Did your omorashi prompts give you the idea or had you already thought of the bathroom scene beforehand?

It was definitely a great fit. Absolutely typical stupid frat boy idea that got out of hand. 😂

Loved it ❤️

You felt the change in the force and knew I'd uploaded asdfjgerlhlrst

Spoilers for the new chapter below the cut, extremely long winded because I want to YAP

So I entered this chapter only knowing they were going to sleep together for the first time, and what Carlos would say after (I have had that planned since I started the fic because I have a non detailed outline of the whole thing) but didn't know how they would end up in bed. I was just playing with the party and happened to have Daniel mention Max drinking a forty and then I was like "ah yes, that's how you play Edward Forty Hands" and remembered one of my friends who was in a frat was hazed that way (and never remembered me showing up to his bid night party because of it) so I was rolling with that. But I knew I needed to get them into a situation™️ of utmost insanity for things to divulge into actual sex, like it took them being insanely crossfaded for Lando to blow him, so like how do we amp things up even more from there? Insane drinking game. That's how.

So I actually consulted a few people about this chapter because I was worried that from writing the omorashi fics for the kink prompts I had ruined my brain a little. I was like... I am no longer a good barometer of what is too much, so I need second opinions. The piss scene went through a few edits to make sure it wasn't too close to omo and instead was just another situation they find themselves in. It felt like a very fine line, which is why I put the disclaimer at the beginning of this chapter. I distinctively was trying to keep it away from omo territory though.

It took my four days and three different stints of writing to finish the events from Lando agreeing to play Edward Forty Hands to the end of the chapter. This was a doozy.

"Absolutely typical stupid frat boy idea that got out of hand" Honestly, I think making people suffer both from how much they have to drink for the game but also for the fact that they can't go pee is like... a major party of Edward Forty Hands (although I've never done it myself, just showed up to my friend's bid night and he was finishing up the game and blackout). It didn't get out of hand so much as Carlos made sure it didn't come to it's usual end, and got laid in the process lmao. But like it's largely used as hazing, so the frat wants to embarrass the pledges, and like... that's why what happened to Charles happened to him. The goal of it is you drink so much you blackout/throw up/do something embarrassing they can wage against you for all of time. And the insinuation is that Carlos let that happen to Charles (who we have seen he is quite close with), but he saves Lando from that same fate, even when Carlos is doing the game too (which Carlos drinks enough in general that he knows he is going to be okay, that's why he is also drinking so much faster than Lando, like he's not scared that he will blackout and embarrass himself or something cause he's such a heavy weight).

I digress, but frat culture and the psych of it is so.... insane. And there aren't a ton of parts where I really address that in this fic, and in fact probably grossly romanticize it for the most part, but this is once of the few scenes that touches more deeply on hazing/frat culture in a negative way.