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nvrswrld · 1 month ago

Note

hi there! can you please write akito with a reader that has a crush & its suuuuuuper obvious about it, so he can't help but tease reader and get them super flustered? thank you!

Rabbit Hole — Akito Shinonome

"Gonna be a smitten mitten till the day you die?"

— in which An gets you to confess to Akito.

akito shinonome x fem!reader

tags: fluff, characters might be a little ooc, probably shit lmao i wrote this at one in the morning, cut me some slack

note: i literally squealed when i read this request i love akito sm

You've been in school for nine years, yet you still struggle with paying attention in class. It wasn't just the teachers who had poor teaching tactics, which didn't help you activate your brain for the remainder of the day, but it was also the lack of sleep you got each night. You spent more time scrolling on social media than you did working on your homework. It was the poor attention span that troubled you. It was your fault, though. You knew you should've been responsible enough to better yourself in these situations. You were getting to that age, anyway. Soon, you would be independent and no longer under the wing of safety connected to your parents.

But until then, you would continue to feed off your friends.

It helped you get things done faster, so it couldn't have been that bad. You weren't entirely dependent on them, but only just a little. Both An and Mizuki were in the same class as you, so that gave you even more of a reason to slack off whenever they attended. They didn't really mind, either. It just gave you three another reason to hang out after school, therefore it was more of a blessing than a curse. Sitting in the corner booth of Weekend Garage, sipping on piping hot coffee, chowing down on sweet treats, and praying to whatever god up there that one of them had the answers to the homework. It was the highlight of your year.

This afternoon was the same as any other. You rested your chin against the table, tapping the end of your pen against your workbook and staring off into space while An yapped Mizuki's ear off about whatever the hell they were talking about. Another part of your guys' "study session" was that it always took at least thirty minutes for you all to actually get to work. It was a lengthy process, but you still somehow managed to get work done.

After yawning and raising your head from the table to lean back comfortably against the booth seat, An switched her attention from Mizuki to you. She smirked pridefully and played with a strand of her hair. "Y'know, y/n, me and Akito did some talking during practice yesterday, and—"

"What did you do?" You asked in horror, slowly sinking down the seat. An shook her head, a sign that your fear was unnecessary. "I didn't say anything, okay?" She took a large gulp of her coffee before continuing her explanation. "We just played a little game of 'what if'."

"By 'we played' do you mean you forced him to answer your questions while he tried to get work done?" Mizuki interjected, to which An rolled her eyes playfully. "Yes, but that's not the point. The point is..."

She paused, leaving you in suspense. Her mouth stayed open for a bit, before shutting—but there was still a smirk on her face. You raised an eyebrow. "The point is?"

She shrugged. "Actually, I'll let you find out on your own."

You couldn't help but get butterflies from that sentence alone. Whether they were good or bad was unknown, but it made you feel nervous, nonetheless. "C'mon An," you begged, "don't be evil..."

You turned to Mizuki, desperation written on your face. "Do you know anything?"

"No," she answered, "nothing for sure. But can I offer my two cents?" You nodded eagerly and waited for her to speak again. "He never snaps at you, but he sure does tease the hell out of you. Odd, don't you think?"

"Right?" An agreed. "He even snaps at Toya sometimes, and that's his best friend."

"What if I just get Ena to put you on?" Mizuki questioned, to which you immediately declined her offer. You chuckled humorlessly and played with the hem of your shirt. "Absolutely not! She would totally make fun of me until the end of time. Maybe even criticize my taste in guys, if she's feeling extra mean..."

Mizuki scoffed and mocked you. "As if she can't already tell you're crushing on him."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you can't act normal around him for the life of you," the bluenette answered for her. "He doesn't even have to be in the room. We could just be talking about him and you'll start giggling like a little girl."

"No, I don't! I didn't even giggle today!"

"Yeah, because you were too busy trying to not have a panic attack over whether I told Akito about your feelings for him or not," she countered, to which Mizuki agreed.

"Yeah, it's, like, painfully obvious how bad you have it for him. I wouldn't be surprised if he already knew. Maybe that's why he teases you so much."

If that was the case, you wouldn't know what to do. If he already knew, then why wouldn't he just tell you instead of making you wait so long for a fifty-fifty answer? The thought made you want to throw up. Not that it was bad, but it was nerve-wracking. It would be nice if he did know, but what if he didn't feel the same? What then? You placed your hand on your stomach and pouted subconsciously. "All this stress is making my stomach hurt."

"And all this pussying out is making my head hurt," Mizuki joked. Meanwhile, An was scrolling on her phone, barely paying attention to the conversation now. "C'mon, y/n! I'm sure if you tell him, he'll be nice about it."

"No, he won't," you whined. "Guys are never nice about this stuff. The last time I confessed to a guy, he told the entire class and they all made fun of me for a month."

"That was in primary school, y/n..."

"So what? It still happened!"

"Y'know what?" An spoke up as she tidied up her area, putting her books and pens back into her schoolbag. "What if we help you practice a confession?" You raised an eyebrow and asked what she meant. "Mizuki will cover your eyes, and I'll pretend to be Akito. Then, you work your magic and confess!"

"Why does Mizuki have to cover my eyes—?"

"Because it'll help you focus on envisioning his presence." It didn't take a genius to know that she completely pulled that claim out of her ass, but you chose to just let her get away with it. "C'mon, y/n! It's getting sad watching you drool over him without knowing if he feels the same or not."

You let out a defeated sigh and threw your head back. "Okay, okay. We can practice, or whatever."

Little did you know that agreeing to her idea would be the best and worst decision you've ever made.

As to why you were doing this outside was a mystery. Maybe it was to avoid getting weird looks from people inside the cafe, but it was equally as bad—and probably worse—to do outside the building. You stood in front of An, awkwardly rubbing at your arm to distract yourself from the pure embarrassment you felt every time someone walked past you three. Mizuki and An, however... You really needed their confidence, because they did not seem to give a shit about gaining people's attention.

"Alright," An said cheerfully, "close your eyes and just imagine that I'm Akito. Mizuki, you cover her eyes so she can't see for sure." Mizuki did as she was told, lightly cupping her hands over your eyes. With that, An cleared her throat and spoke up a second time. "Are you imagining him?"

"Uh," you muttered nervously, "sure, I guess." It took a while for her to speak up again, but you assumed that she had gotten distracted by her phone again. "Now say what you have to say. Don't think about it; just let it flow out."

"...An, this is stupid."

"Trust me! It'll help!"

You sighed and took your time to think. Let the words flow out, you thought. It couldn't be that hard. It was like you were talking to yourself. All you had to do was just forget about An and Mizuki, and you were good. You imagined a world where everything was perfect. A world where it was just you and Akito, for the time being. A world where no one could make fun of you for expressing yourself. A world where everything went your way. You clenched your hands into fists and swallowed hard, preparing to vocalize your thoughts and feelings.

"...since you're totally Akito," you began sarcastically, still finding the whole concept to be ridiculous, "I guess now's the time to finally tell you about how much I'm soooo in love with you, and how annoying it's been to have to deal with these feelings, knowing damn well that I was way too scared to actually tell you about them without my friends forcing me to. And I guess I have to talk about how irritating it is to have to deal with your teasing without knowing if it's platonic or not. And I guess I have to talk about how this is probably a huge waste of time because I know that I'll just pussy out when I actually want to try to confess to you."

You could hear Mizuki sigh behind you. "You're not taking it seriously, y/n!"

"What's the point? It's not like I'm gonna tell him anything anytime soon, so what's the—"

During your mini-rant, you pulled Mizuki's hands away from your eyes and opened them. Instead of An standing in front of you, she was beside Akito, who was now where she stood before. You felt your entire body freeze up at the sight of him. Not only that, but your heart fell all the way down to your ass. He was smirking at you, seemingly finding the situation to be amusing.

"—That's the point," Mizuki finished for you. Not that you were even listening. You were too busy trying to not start hyperventilating. "Why are you here?" You timidly questioned. He was supposed to be at work, so why the hell was he here now?

"I'm on my break and An told me to come here," he answered smugly, not once breaking eye contact other than to blink. "What was that about you being soooo in love with me?" Your jaw clenched and your head became light. Is this what dying felt like? Because, honestly, you were hoping that your next breath was your last.

"It was just a joke," you blurted out and internally cursed at how stupid that lie was. Akito sneered and let out an 'uh-huh'. You weren't getting out of this easily, so you might as well just give up. "Akito," you muttered, "don't do this to me."

"I already knew before this," he admitted nonchalantly. "I just wanted to see how long it would take for you to tell me."

"It would've taken longer if An didn't set me up..." Maybe your crush on him was obvious, as much as you didn't want to believe it. "Can you just, like, tell me what you think so I can rest easily tonight?" He nodded and laughed a bit with that same annoying grin on his face. "I think you're cute, or whatever."

An let out an excited squeal before you could even process what he said. "And I think that you should come clean about this beforehand so we could actually…y'know."

"I don't know," you replied, to which Mizuki quickly spoke up with a grin of her own. "He wants you!" Akito sent her a glare but didn't deny it.

"You're making this a lot less enjoyable for me," he advised the girls. "But I guess that's one way to put it." It felt like the entire world was crumbling beneath your feet but in a good way. You couldn't help but play with your fingers as a nervous tic, but despite your anxiety, you were smiling. Wide. Before you knew it, you walked up to him and pulled him into a tight hug. Akito was caught off guard, but only for a bit. He eventually wrapped his arms around you as well and applied a sweet kiss on the top of your head. It was like a dream.

"Thanks, An…" you mumbled against his chest. You totally owed her after this.

written by @nvrswrld

#akito shinonome x reader #akito shinonome #vbs akito #akito shinonome x y/n #vivid bad squad #project sekai x reader

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acourtofinkandpapyrus · 1 year ago

Text

My Little Shadow: Part ten (Azriel x Reader)

Warnings: OH THE ANGST- Body image issues, mentions of smut, and trauma.

Part nine Part eleven

Tag list: @mis-lil-red @bubybubsters @luvmoo @rorel1a

Y/N tells Feyre and Mor about her feelings for Azriel, and they convince her to confess, because he feels the same way... right?

“Well, You should tell him.” Morrigan said, grinning at me in Rita’s.

I hadn’t really wanted to come here, as it was a ‘girl’s night out’, they insisted I came with.

“What are you two up to?” Feyre asked as she found a seat in our booth, and cheeks heated a bit more.

“Y/N’s crush on Azzy.” Morrigan said, and I wondered if I was going to melt right then and there.

Feyre’s eyes went wide, sparling with glee as she grinned. “Are you going to tell him?”

This was the absolute worst.

“No!” I said, shooting the both of them a glare. “He probably doesn’t feel the same way anyway.”

Morrigan and Feyre looked at each other conspiratorially, and I suddenly had a bad feeling.

“What are you two planning?”

“Oh, nothing…” Feyre said with a smirk.

Morrigan scooted closer to me and spoke softly, “You know, I’m pretty sure Az feels the same way.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course you only say that after I said I wasn’t going to tell him.”

Mor grinned, and I knew then I wasn’t getting out of this for a while.

“What you need is to feel more confident in yourself.” She declared, getting out of the booth and looking at me with chaotic delight in her eyes. “We are taking you shopping.”

“No-” I started to protest but mor grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the booth.

Feyre chuckled, taking another small sip of her drink before following us out the door.

I was half dead on my feet from exhaustion as we made it to the dress shop. I had been so busy with training in the mornings, I never got to explore the city at night. It was somehow even more beautiful, glowing in the night.

We had already gone and gotten our hair and nails done, despite my protests, and now Mor claimed I needed the perfect dress.

I sat by the window with Feyre as we watched Morrigan look through the beautiful fabrics.

“Thank you.” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Feyre swung her head around, a small smile on her face. “Oh, don’t worry. We have plenty to spend on things like this. And anyway, you’re part of our little family now.”

I blushed at this, but quickly added, “Not just this. Everything.”

It was obvious she didn’t quite understand as she looked at me, and I clarified, “I mean for letting me stay here, for giving me a home.”

Her eyes softened in understanding and she wrapped a comforting arm around me. “You will always have a home here Y/N.”

I smile softly, about to say something else when a dress catches my eye.

I’m quick to stand, and even quicker to make my way over to it, feeling the shadowy fabric on the mannequin.

The cloth of the dress clings tight in the chest and torso, the fabric almost swirling as it falls into a skirt of dark blues, purples, and black. It also comes with a little caplet, adding to the elegance of the design.

I bite my lip nervously. The only problem is that it’s otherwise sleeveless, and would reveal my torn up arms.

“Ooh, that’s a nice dress! You should try it on!” Morrigan encouraged, rushing up to take it off the mannequin.

“No, I can’t.” I say, backing away a little bit.

I didn’t want them to see. I didn’t want anyone to see. My scars didn’t look like art, like Azz’s swirls that add so much character, they aren’t some badge from a fight I had won.

They were just… Scars. Deep, ugly, scars.

“Come on, pleaseee?” Morrigan begged, and I swallowed hard.

“Okay…” I said, not feeling comfortable even as she squealed in excitement.

I felt a warm hand grip mine, and I turned to see Feyre next to me, mouthing, “Are you alright?”

I nodded, forcing a little smile to my face.

Soon, I was in the dressing room, changing into the dress. I looked into the mirror, and almost gasped as I saw the way the dress hung on me. It almost looked better on me than it did on the mannequin.

It accentuated my curves and the top of my hips before flowing freely, there was a bit of cleavage, but not extreme.

But the part that made me nervous was the scars littered down my arms. I knew as soon as I went out they would see them, and I didn’t want to talk about what had happened to me under the mountain right now.

I take a deep breath though, knowing that I couldn’t avoid this forever.

If they ask, I don’t have to tell them. I really don’t.

So I opened up the door, stepping out so they could see me.

They both just stare for a moment, and I wait for them to be horrified, to usher me back in to change back-

“YOU LOOK STUNNING!” Morrigan shouted, loud enough to wake the whole goddamn city.

She rushed over, forcing me to spin around so she could get a better look. Feyre was smiling now, although it seemed a bit sad.

I was still reeling from their reactions when they dragged me out of the store, still wearing the dress because I think they knew if I got out of it, they may never get me to wear it again.

“Now you go talk to Azriel, tell him how you feel.” She said, grinning as Feyre winnowed us back to the river house.

They quickly rushed off, leaving me on my own to find Azriel.

I could have sent my shadows out, but I decided it was better if I looked myself. I can’t always hide behind them.

As I’m searching, I go through many rooms, but one thing they all had in common was that they had some sort of art from Feyre hanging in them.

I head into the library, and I’m surprised to find a red-haired female. She’s a bit short, and I wonder if she’s completely fae, but that never really mattered to me.

“Hello.” I say, and she drops her book in surprise. She looks tired, like she’s been through a lot.

This is easier than talking to Azriel, soI smile, walking over to her. “I’m Y/N. What's your name?”

She’s quiet for a moment before she says, “Bryce.”

Her accent is a little strange, but I didn’t mind. I looked at her discarded book. “Whatcha reading?”

She struggles as she speaks, “I- I’m still learning- to talk this language.”

My eyes go wide and I nod. “That’s alright. Hey, have you seen Azriel around?”

For a second I wonder if she understands me, but then she says, “Kitchen.”

I grin at her, giving her a thumbs up. “Thank you! And hey, if you ever need any help, come find me. I used to help the kids back home learn to read, so I might be able to help with some pronunciation.”

She looked a little confused, but nodded gratefully. As I headed to the kitchen, I hoped whatever she was going through ended soon. She seemed nice.

Nearing the kitchen, I could hear snippets of conversation. I paused, rethinking the whole thing.

I took a steading breath. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the night I had shared with Mor and Feyre, but I decided fuck it and turned the corner to the kitchen.

My shadows wrapped around me as soon as I went around the corner, sensing what was happening before I even did.

His hand was half up Elain’s skirt, and her head was tipped back as he planted kisses on her collarbone.

I stand there, reeling a bit.

I thought- Mor had said-

Elain’s eyes meet mine, and I suddenly realize that I’m watching a very private moment.

Azriel notices her stare, and turns to look, but I’m already sprinting for the door.

I hear Azriel call out my name, but I don’t stop, I don’t even register it fully.

Take me somewhere else, anywhere else, just away from here. I’m thinking to myself, but my shadows understand, and for the first time, they winnow me away.

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ioniansunsets · 1 year ago

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Okay so... your Heartsteel Boys and Their Love wrecked me, esp Ez and Phel. Is it okay to make requests? Could you write a Heartsteel!Aphellios scenario with a smol male reader who works at the studio? Requited "unrequited" crush; he thinks it could never work cuz this man is a music icon and clearly with Sett lol Like Settphel is probably a thing in-universe gossiped about by fans (but doesn't actually exist). Oh wow, that was long 😅 But yeah! You can take it from that prompt! Your work is awesome.

✖ Heartsteel!Aphelios x Male!Reader Confession ✖

✖ Word Count: 1.5k

✖ Tags: Mutual Pining, Confession

✖ A/N: Just know I have been thinking about this since you sent it in, for weeks I've wanted to write this and I got really carried away so I hope you enjoy it! It made my heart race in anticipation and I was the one writing it LMAO

Unrelated lyric wise but this was what I was listening to while writing this oops I'm old but the acoustic vibes and unrequited love felt right.

----

It was hard. Watching him from a distance this way. Holding yourself back knowing you were not part of the band nor part of their inner circle and truly have no chance. And that is already ignoring the fact that you don't even get to work with Aphelios alone much, he doesn't sing and you worked on that side of things so the only times you really see him at the studio is when he is working on stuff with you or for a photoshoot like now.

Wincing, you watch Sett pick your crush up. Aphelios' arms flailing in annoyance, gently resting on the taller man's chest as he visually shows how he demands to be let down. The giggles and chuckles of other staff and band members just made your heart ache all the more. You scoff, turning to walk away to spare yourself anymore of their cute interactions. You know, just looking at this scene, exactly why everyone thinks they're a couple. How could they not. Even you couldn't deny how cute the interaction was, how you wish you were the one holding Phel close.

The excited comments of " How cute!" and " I ship Settphel so hard." from other people working in the studio just rubbed salt into your wounds. The only solace in that, was at the very least, maybe it meant Phel swung that way and you'd have a chance. But against Sett? What could you do, if his type was big buff men, you were out of luck yet again. You let out a dry laugh as you leave the studio to take a break, not noticing Aphelios' gaze tracking you as you hurry out.

Get some air, yeah, you'll be fine if you grab a snack and pretend you saw and heard nothing. You'll be fine, this was what it was like loving Aphelios. This was alright.

So here you are, moping about it, a drink in one hand and your face in the other. Sitting depressingly with your elbows on the table in an booth far off in the corner of the building's café. If anything, at least it wasn't lunch rush so you could take some time alone. The soft instrumentals of the café's ambient music was somehow making you feel worse.

Thoughts and frustrations were plaguing you so hard you don't hear someone else enter the café, you don't hear them walk over and then sit by you.

It was only until they leaned in close and shoved an open note app on their phone screen under your hands into your line of sight that you jumped, shocked by your personal space getting intruded upon.

[Saw you leave suddenly, are you ok?]

Ah fuck fuck fuck, you know that phone you know that hand.

Looking up to see those god forsaken beautiful ruby red eyes sparkling with concern. You wanted his attention and care but not like this, not when you looked so pitiful, not when you're trying to push down your overwhelming feelings for him.

Offering Aphelios a pained smile you wave away his concern. Silence between you two was thick. It only made your heart sting more. You came here to escape the obvious one sided pinning but with Aphelios here it just made it so much worse.

[It's not really nothing if you're crying...]

Oh were you crying, oh this sucks this sucks. A soft shaky laugh leaves you as you wipe away your tears. Doing your best you try to divert the conversation away from bringing up your feelings.

" Why are you here anyway, you're mid shoot Aphelios. We're not even that close."

You ask him, leaning back into the booth chair. Hands now clasped together, trying your best to hold yourself together.

[I took a break. Wanted to check on you when I saw you run out. You're still my friend you know?]

He looks at you, eyebrows furrowed in concern. How you wish you could reach up and lightly caress that little cut in his brow and tell him its alright, it was just your personal problems regarding him. But you hold yourself back. You bite your tongue, thinking what to say to make all of this better. Recognizing your hesitant attitude he quickly types something else before holding his phone up to you again.

[ You always look out for me when I'm alone and frustrated in the studio, let me do the same for you.]

You pause again, shocked he even remembers all you've done for him.

" I am in love with someone I can't have."

You blurt it out, your own hand rising to cover your mouth. Ah, there was no going back now, this conversation was happening, you did this to yourself.

You see Aphelios freeze up, a flash of heartbreak across his features before it quickly returns to his cool default expression. The click of his neatly trimmed and manicured painted nails against his phone screen was all the more deafening. You should have told the truth.

[ An idol?]

Were you imagining this or was his hand shaky as he held up the phone again.

" An idol...but I think he already has someone so-"

[ He?]

Those damned sparkling ruby eyes looking up at you in hope set your heart off yet again. Why the hell did he have to look at you like that.

" He.

You."

Time froze as you whispered it out. The words leaving your mouth before your brain could catch up. The overwhelming feelings pushed you to admit it, to tell him after months of pinning. You were in love with him. You watched of course, the way shock crosses his features. Alright, you've done this before, the disgust would come next. You prepare yourself but it never happens. Instead he moves closer to you. What? He moved clos- You gulp hard, watching him.

Gently and so painfully slow, you watched his hand rise, slowly pulling down his mask. Ah, his lips, slightly pink, looking so soft, lip gloss still evident on the surface from the photoshoot earlier. The way it curls up gently into a smile as he leans in to you. He leans in to you?! He was barely hovering by your ear now. Your breath gets caught in your throat as Phel's soft breaths lightly ghost over your ears before, the softest, raspiest whispers grace your eardrums.

" I love you."

You froze. What else could you do. The shock gripping your heart, leaving you stunned for what felt like an eternity. It was only when Aphelios pulls away from you slowly. His damned, beautiful, ruby red eyes. They lock with yours. Eyebrows furrow just a smidge in concern, hoping he didn't overstep his boundaries, that your earlier comment allowed him the grace of talking directly into your ears. They had of course. You dreamt of this. His lips, once again, you watch, the way it slowly purses into a thin line, you should say something. Leaving him hanging in the same anxiety you have this way is horrible.

" I love you... Aphelios."

Ah it felt good. The way your chest now feels light. To say it out this way. To let your feelings finally escape into the world outside. To no longer stump it down in frustration. The trembling of your hands, the gasp and smile as Aphelios hears you speak.

And everything hits. All at once. Heart thrumming incessantly in your ears. The hustle and bustle of the world outside suddenly all too loud. The hand reaching up to hold your face and pull you close was all so fast. So fast. So soft. So gentle.

The way his eyes flutter close, the way his hands hold your face like you were something precious to him. The way his lips find yours. Just as soft and supple as you imagined all these weeks. His lips find yours. So gentle. So soft. So gentle. So soft. Your head spins as he kisses you. This was amazing, better than you could ever whip up in the private scenarios of your mind when you daydreamed about him from a distance. This was perfect. So perfect.

The two of you gasp as Aphelios pulls away. His lips slightly parted as he breathes slowly. The way it now shines a little from residual saliva from the kiss. Your heart races, you were so sure it has skipped more than a few beats. The whole scene burned into your memory for years to come.

He was oh so beautiful. Aphelios' face breaks into a warm smile. His eyes narrow from the grin, the pink tinge of a blush under his makeup, his hair falling softly around his cheeks. You can't help but smile too, all the endlessly frustrating one sided pinning that led to this was worth it. You sigh, content, pulling him into a hug. You don't hear it but feel the rise and fall of his chest as he laughs, hugging you back tightly as he leans his head on your shoulder. This was right. This was good. This was happiness. This was yours.

#This was really really good #As you can tell I think Aphelios is BEAUTIFUL #Tallskinnynerdyboy #I HOPE YOU LIKE IT #Heartsteel!Aphelios #MY FRIST SOLO APHE FIC!!! WOOOOOO LETS GO PHEL!!!!!!!1 #Aphelios #Aphelios x Reader #Heartsteel!Aphelios x Reader #Aphelios League of Legends #Male!Reader #Aphelios League #Aphelios LoL #SCENARIOS #League of Legends Scenarios

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onsunnyside · 3 years ago

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Happy Easter bestie🐣🐇

and Oo prompt idea

Imagine our inexperienced omega volunteering to supervise an Easter egg hunt at a local church near the Howard College, and somehow manages to rope Curtis to tag along😭😭 this can maybe be after they’re mated OR he only agreed to come with her after she agreed to let him introduce her to some more new ✨experiences✨

-💋

dear goodness… this did NOT have to be as filthy as it is.

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | dark!alpha Curtis Everett x innocent/sheltered!omega reader (cherry) [HCV verse]

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | dark!alpha Curtis, manipulation, toxic behaviour, possessive behaviour, set after they’ve mated, SMUT - minors DNI, daddy kink, size kink, unprotected sex (p in v), dirty talk, spit kink, Curtis is a warning, (pls forgive me but) chruch sex, indecency in a confessional booth, blasphemy, uh… ‘father’ kink/priest kink so confession kink, p*ssy slapping, anal (mentioned), degradation, dumbification, a sort of ‘don’t cum in me’ kink but all is consensual, breeding kink, squirting, creampie

𝗪/𝗖 | 1424

𝗔/𝗡 | hehe happy Easter bestie !! 🐣 it’s too early for porn like this

🐰 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Curtis leans against the wall, arms crossed over his firm chest as he watches you flutter around the room. The basement of the local church is slightly busy, other volunteers are busy sorting coloured eggs, Easter baskets for the kids, and other various sheets of paper and flyers.

But you, Curtis doesn’t have a clue what you’re doing.

“Omega,” he calls, deep voice floating above the radio, “c’mere.”

You set down the box of stuffed animals for the children and stride towards your alpha, slightly out of breath from running around all day. Perhaps you took on more than you can chew, and the truth is that you have been a little overwhelmed with everything—and the hunt was in a few hours and there was still so much to do!

You needed a breather, and of course, Curtis would notice that, he notices everything.

“You need to calm down.” He cups your cheeks, warm palms against your skin. “Take a breath for me, sweet girl.”

You obey, your eyes falling shut before opening again. You pucker your lips, “kiss me?”

He smirks, “right in front of everyone? I thought PDA made you shy.”

You lightly tug on his shirt then flatten your hand, you can feel his muscles beneath the material. “It does… but I want to kiss you.”

Curtis leans close and you think he’ll finally press your lips together, but he turns at the last second. His mouth just trails to your jaw and dangerously close to your gland. “You’ve been bad, cherry.”

“Hm?”

“Another man has been staring at you all day. It’s your dress, it’s short, and he can’t help but watch it kiss these pretty thighs.”

“Huh?” You pull away.

“It’s put a damper on my mood, sweetheart… You want him to look at you like a piece of meat?”

“No, I didn’t do it—on purpose.” You pout, heart cracking at the sight of Curtis’s frown. “I’m sorry…” You tug at the back of your dress, not daring to glance over your shoulder at the man, whoever he was.

“Are you? You’ve been ignoring me all day.”

“I’ve been busy… there’s a lot to do.”

Curtis runs a hand over his beard, “and it’s more important than me.”

“No! Of course not!” You cry out, desperate to make him happy, or at least feel better. You’ve only been mated a few weeks, and you’ve already made your alpha upset—you felt like a failure. “Can I make it up to you? I’ll do anything.”

Now, you’re on his lap in the confessional booth, Easter sundress hiked around your waist as Curtis bounces you up and down his cock.

“My little whore—letting daddy fuck you in the church. If that asshole could see you now.” Curtis grunts, fingertips bruising your hips as your skin slaps against each other. “Taking my cock in your tight cunt, you’re made for me, huh?”

“Uh-huh.” You manage between whines, nails digging into his shoulders as the tip of his length slams into your spot, if you were standing, your knees would have buckled. “Daddy, you’re so b-big…”

“Not daddy right now, call me father.” Curtis licks his lips before prying your mouth open, he spits on your tongue, then again and aims for your face. “Say, don’t cum in me, father.”

“W-Why?” You’re a mess, drool and his saliva dripping trailing down your chin, “Curtis, that’s not—”

“Say it or I’ll make you walk out there with my cum on your face.”

You tighten at that, the scary gleam in his eyes makes your juices pour out, coating his thick cock in your essence, all the way to his full balls. You moan a little too loud and cover your mouth, speaking between your fingers, “please don’t cum in me, father, I-uh!” You squeal when he roughly shoves you against the wall, the cramped space barely wide enough for his shoulders, much less the both of you in such a compromising position.

“Why not? If you didn’t want that, you wouldn’t look so damn pretty.” He continues moving you on his cock, like a personal fuck toy as wet noises fill the space, making your cheeks go even hotter. “This tight cunt is sucking me in. Confess to me, baby, tell father your sins.”

“I don’t, I can’t!” You gasp, all oxygen lost as Curtis spits down where you meet.

You’ll never be able to walk into this church again.

You also should have known better than to bring your boyfriend along.

“What have you done that’s made you shameful? Have you been bad? Fucked bare and knotted like a whore. Or, you let someone fuck your ass and fill you up? Have you done that, honey?”

“I have, father!” You weep, feeling your high quickly approaching, your stomach tightening with every rock of his hips. His cock stretches you wide, the burn of the girth is addictive and you’ve never felt more alive.

You remember your early lessons, and reach down to press your fingers to your clit. You tremble, rubbing your bundle with breathy moans.

“No, no, bad girls don’t do that—you need penance. Slap it, punish yourself for being so sinful.”

You meet his eyes, tears slipping from yours as you shake. You pull your hand back and lightly slap your tingling clit, your knees hooked over his elbows keeps you from shutting them but you try. God, and you feel like you’re fighting him.

“Harder. Father wants to see you cry because it hurts.”

You moan again, utterly taken by the pure filth of it all. His words, his actions, his presence, he’s ruined you for anyone else, no one will ever make you feel like this.

Curtis did this—he’s made you into what you are today, and you’re both immensely grateful and mortified of it. But you love him, you love him so damn much that none of the guilt or shame matters.

Years ago, you’d never see yourself like this. Getting railed in the confessional booth by your big, strong alpha, dabbling in fetishes you’ve never dreamt of.

He did this, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You going to cum for me? Give father your cream, and show me how messy you make my cock.” He continues spewing filth, “Cum for me so I can fill you up until you’re dripping. Knock you up, the pretty little omega everyone wants.”

You almost beg him to, but remember what he said earlier. “Please don’t.” You try to bounce down on him.

“You’re going to take my fucking cum. Take everything that father gives you because that’s what you’re made for, stupid girl. Just a little cumdump for me, huh? God made you for me, and I can choose whatever I do with you.” Curtis chuckles darkly, “and if I want you to have my kids—you will.”

Your walls pulsate and you cry out, slapping your clit to prolong your high as you squirt all over his cock. You topple over and your juices soak your hand, panties and his clothes. Wiggling in his grip, you’re caught between pushing him away and pulling him closer, all too overwhelmed. A few moments later, you’ve finally caught your breath.

Curtis coos softly, slowing to sink the thick base into you, he hasn’t cum yet but you were already so exhausted. “What a dumb baby, you got me all dirty.”

“S-Sorry, father.”

“Daddy now, sweet cherry.” He leans down, kissing your tear-stained cheeks and tasting the saltiness. “Daddy loves you. Did so good for me, my best girl.”

“Love you too, daddy.” Your eyes flutter as he starts grinding against you, his pelvis rubbing your sensitive bundle. “Wait—”

“Shh, just let me fill you up, okay?” He groans quietly, only then do you hear the voices on the other side of the wall. You can’t make out what they’re saying, but dread weighs heavy in your heart.

He fucks you while they talk, your mind so scattered that you don’t even realize you’re hitting that high again as he fills you up. His big cock pumping you full of his seed, your pussy convulses and squirts around his girth.

You’re so weak that you can only wrap your arms around his neck and weep, “D-Daddy…”

“Fucking take it—” His gutteral groans vibrate against you, his lips messily meeting yours before his head falls to the crook of your neck and he sucks on your gland as his knots locks you together, “take my cum, omega. Let your alpha knock you up.”

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merakiui · 2 years ago

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Lmao not Deuce and Riddle having hedgehog therapy. Riddle lowkey made a new new rule where you can’t disturb the queen on Tuesday’s and Saturday’s all because Ace walked in on him sobbing to the hedgehogs one time and promised him he wouldn’t collar him (that day) to keep him hush hush. Deuce found out and joins because they both drink that maidenless behaviour juice. The others join too , especially Azul, and it just turned into one of those therapy circles sessions. And tbh if Yuu/MC found out they would be proud that they are working on solving their issues, even thought they’re the wrong issues. Also the ones who do get bitches totally (do)n’t take advantage of this and completely wreck you during those times (yea…I got brain rot, damn. I get the vibe that Trey and Rook have definitely tag teamed you in the Heartslabyul kitchen a few times, and when questioned why he’s there (after a session) Rook holds up a little box of sweets saying that Vil asked him to pick it up from Trey. The same applies to the tweets, once Monstro lounge is closed they try to make new recipes for drinks, as per Azul’s wishes, except Jade makes you cockwarm him while he taste tests the drinks, Floyd makes, with you and won’t move or allow you to move until Floyd finally makes one, which is pretty bad when his mood changes and he doesn’t want to make drinks anymore)

I imagine the main question that arises during hedgehog group therapy is: how can we be less maidenless?

(nsfw, cucking, mention of sex tapes)

Trey and Rook absolutely tag team you and they probably make good use of the sweets Trey made beforehand! The risk of getting caught just makes it all the more enticing. Not only do you taste so sweet from the chocolate they spread on your lips like lipstick, you look absolutely ravishing sandwiched between them, with Trey behind and Rook in the front. Riddle and Epel are too busy with the hedgehog group talk to bother with what’s going on in the kitchen, but anyone else in the dorm runs the risk of seeing the explicit scene if they happen to come down looking for a snack. If Trey and Rook seem considerably happier after that and their dorm leaders question it, they just shrug and say something about how exercise really does improve one’s body, mind, and soul. :)

I like to think the twins cuck Azul on a daily basis. <3 They are always going at it with you whenever they have the chance. Meanwhile Azul’s stuck in his feelings because he just can’t work up the courage to confess. And that allows the twins to pull you into the storage closet during work hours for a quickie, slow after hours sex, even sex in Azul’s VIP room when he’s out. They probably record some of it, too, and they have no problems selling it to Azul for the right price. Temptation is a nasty devil and they know just how much Azul cherishes you. What’s worse is that Azul absolutely knows they’re fucking you. This man celebrates having his first naughty dream about you while Jade and Floyd have already fucked you in a dozen positions. He needs to catch up.

Aaaa but cockwarming Jade while he and Floyd come up with new drink concoctions is so good omg. Every time you squirm and insist that he just fuck you already, he’s tutting at you and telling you to be patient. Floyd gets annoyed with your little whines of desperation and he’ll flop back onto the booth cushion with his arms crossed. Now he doesn’t want to make drinks anymore; he’s tired. You’ll be shuddering whenever Jade’s thick cock so much as twitches inside you, but Jade has so much patience so he could do this for hours. Truthfully, he likes seeing you all desperate and teary-eyed as you beg him for release. But he’s also meant to be making drinks, so he’ll have to convince Floyd somehow (if he can even be persuaded out of his foul mood). Your mouth can be used for other things aside from sampling drinks.

Omg and Leona having you ride him in the botanical gardens while fully aware of Malleus’s interest in you. >:) he’ll erase any scent of Malleus and replace it with his own. After all, you’re Leona’s mate. You even agreed, albeit through incoherent ramblings, that you belong to Leona and that he’s the only one for you—that you love his dick and can’t get enough. Good. It looks like his herbivore has come to their senses.

#twisted chit chat #meraki thirsts #yandere twst #azul's busy penning love letters and love umbrellas in his notebook #meanwhile the twins are slipping you notes detailing what they want to do to you as soon as class ends #omg or riddle brainstorming date ideas (tea party croquet game playing with the hedgehogs etc)#while you're in trey's room helping him 'study'#aaaa it's even worse because riddle probably thinks you're pure and a virgin like him #so he's eager to share his first time with you #because that's how it usually goes in romance stories right?#aaaa he has no idea how to navigate love </3 poor riddle

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 2 years ago

Text

A STUDY IN YOU, chapter fifteen

table of contents | talk to me & join the tag list | the playlist

April 29th, 2019

The city was warm with anticipation of summer. Somehow May was around the corner--and despite the smile on Sophie’s face when your phone lit up on the table, your stomach did a flip when her eyes met yours.

It was a stand-off for a second, a dimple appeared on her cheek and she sipped her cocktail, waiting to see if you’d say anything.

“What?”

“...Are you avoiding him?”

You rolled your eyes. Max and Naomi were stuck at their internships late, and you should have known that a night alone with Sophie would include an interrogation complete with suspicious glances and nosy questions.

The setting? Your usual booth at O’Halloran’s.

“No, I’m not avoiding him.”

“That’s the second time he’s texted you and you won’t even open it.”

“I’m with you,” you brought your drink up and slurped it through the straw. “I’m being polite.”

“Fuck being polite--I want the details.”

“There’s no update, no new details” you confessed.

Her eyebrows arched, “none?”

You shrugged. “I think he’s taking a step back. Because of graduation.”

Now her eyebrows inverted, furrowed across her forehead when her nose crinkled in confusion. “Isn’t graduation the answer to all of your prayers? You can finally bone him without the guilt!”

“I don’t think that’s necessarily true,” you blinked a few times.

Sophie leaned back in the booth, apparently she didn’t agree with you and the look on her face made that clear. Instead of replying to your remark, she kept her eyes on you for a second.

“What’s the roadblock for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why won’t you just tell him you’re into him?”

You sighed, partially embarrassed that it was that obvious, but also relieved that it wasn’t a secret you had to protect…at least not with Sophie.

“Because that wasn’t supposed to happen--this was just supposed to be some fun and casual thing and I’m the one who fucked it up by catching feelings,” you rolled your eyes at yourself, groaned a little when Sophie smiled behind the rim of her drink.

“You didn’t fuck it up,” she assured. You forgot how good Sophie was at calming your nerves…sometimes. “And in the words of the hottest woman on the planet Selena Gomez, the heart wants what it wants.”

Right, and there was that charming sense of humor. She wiggled her eyebrows at you, obviously trying to get a laugh and help you fucking chill.

You smiled, let your shoulder slump a little when you took another sip. “Well, feelings only work if it’s reciprocal.”

“How do you know it’s not?”

“He’s my advisor, our professor--” you nodded at his titles, how on earth was she not understanding this?

“Who’s slept over your house, taken you out to eat…licked your pussy--”

“Okay,” you held a hand up quickly to cut her off, stifling a quick laugh at her vulgarity. “Doesn’t negate his actual role in my life.”

“So you’re just gonna let this pass you by?” Sophie’s eyes narrowed now, her tone more serious when you let your eyes fall back to your phone. A reminder buzzed--two iMessages!!

“I don’t know. I mean, when am I supposed to tell him? And what do I do if he says he doesn’t feel the same?”

She took the last sip of her drink. “Well, we’re literally about to go on a trip to Europe with him and that feels like a really romantic experience,” she said all of this like it was obvious, like you were an idiot for not realizing the way the universe was setting you up for a slam dunk.

“And if he isn’t on the same page,” she shrugged, “you come home and lick your wounds and you only have to see him at work.”

“Another reason I shouldn’t do this,” you pointed a finger at her.

“False,” she pointed her finger right back at you. “Another reason you need to be honest and mature and--” she cut herself off, surprised by her own depth and sincerity. “Jesus,” she made a face. “When did I turn into some lesbian Oprah?”

You laughed, she slid out of the booth and went to fetch another round. You picked up your phone when she was far enough away.

Jason Sudeikis (7:12pm): Found this in my laundry, assuming it’s yours?

A picture right below his message, the black bra you were sure had gotten lost at the wash and fold down the block. You felt your lips pull into a smile at his implication, whose else would it be?

You didn’t reply. Instead, you sat with the realization that Sophie was right.

But at least you didn’t have to tell her that.

Surprisingly, she left you alone the week leading up to the trip. You went with her to campus to pick up your caps and gowns, Naomi was an anxious mess as she prepared to showcase her work, and Max was just as panicked about packing as he’d been the year before.

But this time you all knew what to expect. The flights, the hotel, the coastal city and the charm of sipping fruity cocktails in the evening glow. Which is exactly what you did on your first night there.

“Okay,” Max said once he’d successfully captured the boomerang of your clinking glasses. He flipped his sunglasses back down and leaned back in his chair, a long sip when he looked around the circle. “We’re here, we actually did it.”

Cannes was bustling with people in town for the festival. The beaches were packed and the streets echoed with excitement and allure.

“Three long years later,” Sophie smiled. “Hard to believe, sort of.”

“Hard to believe Naomi’s going to be famous after this weekend,” you eyed her with a smile. She spent most of the plane ride over sleeping, claimed that any time she spent awake now was simply filled with anticipation and anxiety a healthy dose of holy fucking shit.

You could relate.

Naomi clutched a hand to her heart and grinned. “Thanks for coming, you guys. It means a lot, really.”

“Thanks for the excuse to come back! I’ll drink cocktails with you three anywhere, but this place rocks.” Max laughed.

“Okay,” Sophie’s glass floated in the air when she let her eyes scan the three of you. “What's our must do list this weekend?”

“Must do?” Naomi asked, you were glad you weren’t the only one confused.

Sophie straightened up to explain. “The stuff we absolutely have to do here before we leave. Obviously Friday night,” she shrugged, the night of the screening.

“Can we please do a bougie dinner on Saturday or Sunday?” Max pouted. “I didn’t eat enough when we were here last year.”

“Yes,” Sophie pointed at him in agreement. “For sure.”

“Let’s do Sunday, though.”

And just like that, three heads swiveled towards you. You sipped your drink and blinked behind your sunglasses. “What?”

Naomi smirked. “Do you have plans for Saturday night?”

“Potentially,” you shrugged. “I don’t know what, but—“

“You don’t know what?” Max’s face lit up. “It’s a surprise?!”

“Okay,” you tried to backtrack, voice automatically quiet. “Calm down. He texted me this morning and said keep Saturday night free if I can. So, here I am. Keeping Saturday free.”

You nodded slowly to make sure they understood. This wasn’t a big deal. You were just doing what you were told.

“And you don’t know why?” Max clarified.

“No.”

“Wow,” Sophie nodded. “A little romantic rendezvous in the South of France!”

“Or it’s just us having dinner or something—“

“Even you can’t be dumb enough to think that,” Max challenged, eyes narrowed when the corner of his lips twitched into a smirk.

You fought the smile on your face for three whole seconds, but when Naomi caught your eye you were done for.

“I don’t know, okay? I’m not sure what he wants or where things are heading and I am trying to not panic.”

They all nodded sympathetically.

“But this trip is not about my clandestine melodrama,” you reminded.

Sophie ignored this. “Are you going to talk to him?”

You let out a huff, slightly bothered that she brought it up in front of Max and Naomi, but also uncomfortable in the spotlight. “I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Maybe. Let’s see what happens on Saturday and I’ll consider it.”

Apparently that was good enough for her. She looked back at Max and Naomi and took other requests for weekend plans: drinks at a rooftop bar near the hotel, a morning at the beach and plenty of yummy glasses of rosé and whatever other alcohol tickled your fancy.

By midnight you were all jet-lagged enough to be face down in pillows, Sophie’s snoring was was enough to interrupt your slumber on a few occasions and sharing a bed with Max didn’t make for a restful night either. Oh well.

May 11th, 2019

Swanky music played in the hotel bar, you clinked a glass of champagne against Naomi’s when Sophie said a few words. The greatest of the great, nobody deserves it more.

You hadn’t seen him yet. You’d taken the elevator down and saw a few other students that milled about, ordered glasses of prosecco this time. Max was desperate for a change.

A dress much nicer than last year, one you could afford with your upcoming NBC paychecks. Marina approached after saying hi to some NYU kids you recognized from campus. She smiled when she hugged Max in greeting but when she saw you, she offered a look that was hard to read.

“Fancy seeing you all here!”

“We couldn’t miss Naomi’s big moment,” Sophie smiled, pushing her glass against Marina’s when she humble-bragged for your friend.

Marina grinned, “yes--I’ve heard, a huge accomplishment, Naomi, you should be very proud.”

“I’m definitely trying to soak it all in,” she nodded. “Trying to not throw up.”

“Completely understandable,” Marina reassured with an apologetic smile. “But I hope you do plenty of celebrating, this is an important week for you!”

“We’re forcing the celebration,” you informed. “Dragging her out if we need to.”

“Cheers to that,” Max pushed his glass into the circle once more before taking a playful swig.

You hadn’t seen Marina much this year, a few times on campus or in the Starbucks on Broadway. You’d catch up with her quickly, tell her about your amazing experiences at NBC or catch her up on your latest projects and scripts.

She was excited to hear about what the rest of your friends had been up to this year, interrupted eventually when Jason made his way over.

You hadn’t spotted him, caught off guard by the scent of his cologne: familiar and exciting all at once.

A chorus of greetings when his hand lingered for a moment too long on your lower back, you swiped him off and caught his eye for a second when he smirked.

He smiled at your friend. “Naomi--how are you holding up? Feelin’ alright?”

She looked at him quickly, you wondered how many times she’d be asked before she’d explode.

“Now that I’m starting to feel the alcohol I’m a little better,” she confessed, a smile when she looked at you.

It felt strange, now, to know they were in on the secret: the knowing look in Naomi’s eyes and smile, the way Sophie greeted him when he joined the group like an old pal.

The boundary between your group and his felt blurry after all these years. Like it melted somewhere along the lines and now there were times like these when there almost wasn’t separation at all.

And here, in France and on this trip with only nine days standing between you and a Master’s degree, the universe seemed to be tempting you.

So close and yet so far.

Will was only a few seconds behind, he laughed with Max about your return trip, hugged you when the room thinned out as people started heading towards the theater. You tucked your phone in your clutch, walked with them all along the glowing sidewalks, made your way inside the event space and took in the ambience: fancy perfumes and fancier people.

Another round of drinks before the lights dimmed. Somehow you ended up sitting beside him and Naomi squeezed Sophie’s hand the whole time.

Her film was met with a thunderous applause and a standing ovation by your row only--which probably embarrassed her a bit but you were too proud to care. You had another celebratory drink with her and mingled with the other audience members in your area.

The lights flashed again when you snuck by the drink line, heading for your seat when he caught your wrist by the bar.

“Hey, hey—hi, do you want a drink?”

You smiled up at him, “margarita—“

“On the rocks?”

You nodded, impressed he knew your order but also flattered he’d been paying attention. When he arrived a few minutes later with his hands full (and an old fashioned for himself), Max knocked his knee into yours.

“How thoughtful of him,” he let his brows dip in the cover of dimming lights.

You sipped your drink, fluttered your eyelashes at Max and watched on.

A few hours like that, and then you found a bar a few blocks over that had a corner booth in the back. A grumpy hostess handed over drink menus and Will cracked a joke about being terrible Americans. Naomi seemed to be a little less tightly wound, she slid in beside Marina and exhaled: thank fucking god that’s over.

Sophie chatted with other students--first and second years--when she sipped a glass of wine, Max was too busy asking Will about the best and worst production companies in Hollywood.

Which left you on the other side of Max, and on the other side of Max was Jason, who was boxed in by Marina and Naomi when he looked at you.

“Hey,” he nodded, a slight smirk when your eyes met. “I like the dress,” he quipped.

Poker face, you felt a slight twitch in your brow but didn’t let on. “Thanks.”

In front of everyone, casually. He knew what he was doing.

“Might look better on the floor,” Jason said quietly, a shrug of his shoulder and a sip of his drink as if to remind you he didn’t have any skin in the game.

Max peered over at him quickly, still engulfed in conversation with Will when Jason coughed a little and then cleared his throat. A quick mutter to Max--sorry--before he smirked in your direction again.

A close call, one that you washed down with another drink and more laughter. But you were surprised by the cool air outside the bar when your group spilled onto the street.

“It’s colder than I thought out here,” you commented, mostly to Sophie.

“It’s May in the South of France,” she rolled her eyes. “Means you didn’t drink enough,” she chided, heels clicking on the pavement when she turned around to make a silly face.

The city was bustling with groups like yours, patrons and Prada bags as you meandered down the skinny sidewalks and back towards the hotel.

“Do you want this?” Jason’s fingers tugged the lapel of his suit jacket--black and warm.

“No no,” you shook your head quickly, dismissing his kindness. “I’m fine, it’s a short walk.”

The breeze off the ocean and the long-gone sun had let a chill settle over the city streets. You listened to Will and Marina bicker about Scorcese films, shivered a little when another gust came through.

Jason took off his jacket in one movement, handed it over to you without a word. Will’s eyes followed the motion and didn’t seem to think much of it. You draped his coat over your shoulders but kept listening. They joked and teased and for a moment you wondered what would happen if you reached for his hand. It was almost that easy.

You stayed behind in the hotel lobby, lingered by the bar when Sophie requested a night cap. Jesse and Will did too, Jason met your eyes when he admitted: Tired, jet-lagged, heading up now.

Three minutes after the elevator doors closed behind him and after Sophie was sipping a sangria, you carried out your end of the bit.

“Wow--well, I’m pretty tired too.”

Max and Jesse didn’t hear you, Sophie smirked at the yawn you threw in for good measure, an arm around your neck when she whispered in your ear: go get laid.

So you read his text when the overhead arrow lit up, stepped inside and felt your heart thump like it had been doing for a year.

Jason Sudeikis (12:02am): 849

It wasn’t hard to find, the same floor as last year and he opened the door and smiled.

“Wow,” you stepped inside, looked around the room at the open balcony, the king-sized bed and formal sitting area to the left. “Good to know NYU shells out for the professors.”

“Oh--well, I upgraded, actually,” he shrugged, hands in his pockets as he also took in the sight of it. “I didn’t know if you’d be…staying…with me, at all.”

You smirked at him over your shoulder, “is that an invitation?”

“I mean I’d hope that sleeping in bed with me is more appealing than sleeping in bed with Max.”

“It is,” you laughed. “For sure. And Sophie snores.”

“Oh right,” he nodded, a smile when he remembered that piece of information from last year.

Another few steps towards the balcony and out into the cool night air. The city was aglow with restaurant signs and street lamps, music floated up to his room and the yachts in the bay bounced over tiny waves.

You watched him over your shoulder, he kept his eyes on yours as he made his way over, slow and intentional when he stepped outside to join you.

“I hope your friends aren’t waiting up for you,” his lips curled.

“They’re not,” you rolled your eyes.

He laughed, brought his arm around your waist when he pressed his mouth to yours. Out in the open, you turned towards him instinctively and tilted your chin up to kiss him. Deep enough but comfortable, you smiled when he pulled away.

“What?”

You let out an apologetic laugh. “I was just thinking that they’re probably smoking weed downstairs and will soon be opening whatever bottles they find in the minifridge.”

His eyes widened a little at your confession. He nodded and smiled down at you. “That’s what was going through your head as I kissed you?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Hm,” he nodded. “That’s problematic.”

“Why’s that?”

He took your wrist and brought you back into the room, explaining over his shoulder with a playful smile: “I brought you back here because I’ve grown particularly fond of kissing you, and having sex with you--”

You let your eyebrows furrow, egging him on with a challenging smirk. “You have?”

“And I also enjoy when you’re so turned on by me that you can’t focus on anything else.”

“Feels a little narcissistic of you,” you commented.

Inside now, he turned to face you and smiled when you kept his gaze.

“No, actually, it’s quite selfless of me.”

You sat on the edge of his mattress, wondering how long you could do this before you tugged him down and top of you by the shirt collar.

“Selfless?”

“Selfless,” he nodded, a step forward.

Your hand reached out for his belt buckle, eager to progress towards skin and friction and heat. But he swatted you away and smirked.

He brought his hand to your jaw and leaned down to kiss you, his suit jacket still on the chair where you’d left it. Maybe it had been the sight of you in his clothes, the way you wanted to slip your fingers between his on the sidewalk and the way your friends acted like all of this was normal.

He liked the way you kissed him back, and eventually he nudged you onto your back and pulled your thighs down towards his face. You giggled when he tugged your panties to your ankles, felt your tummy tighten when he pressed kisses to the exposed skin.

His tongue lapped at your center after he couldn’t resist you, a choreographed number of flicks and fingers when you started to make more noise. Your fingers grabbed onto his hair, desperate to feel his tongue inside of you at the edge of the bed.

You pulled him up and worked at the buttons of his shirt, one by one until he tossed it to the floor and then stepped out of his pants. It was easier now, you noticed, to giggle and joke and tell him what you wanted and when.

He unzipped your dress and let his eyes sweep over your figure, he grew beneath the fabric of his boxers and even more when your mouth wrapped around him. He watched with hungry eyes but decided that wasn’t enough, he wanted all of you.

So you tugged him down like you knew you always would, let out a gasp when he pushed himself inside of you.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he sighed, a rhythm in his hips when you arched into him.

“I would love,” you breathed, “to be fucked…hard.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

May 12th, 2019

His arm was draped over your waist when you woke up, sun filtered in through the curtain and you reached for your phone to see the time. 8:54am. Texts from the night before:

Max Prescott (1:35am): This bed is nice without you do not come back

Sophie Mendez (1:54am): Say hi to the PROFESSOR YOU’RE BANGING

Naomi Halter (1:55am): we love you have fun ignore the two assholes you stranded me with

Keep readingYou giggled quietly to yourself, felt the sheets rustle beside you when he opened his eyes.

“Morning,” he stretched, smiled a little when you clicked your phone shut and turned to face him, wondering if this would ever get old.

“Hi,” you greeted him quietly.

“Don’t even think about asking me what we’re doing tonight,” he said with a sleepy laugh when he sat up in bed, a look in your direction that told you not to push it. He stretched and peered over his shoulder, like he knew you had a comeback.

“I’m supposed to just go somewhere blindly with you?” As you said this he tood and walked over to the balcony in his boxers, hair messy from sleep and sex.

He turned to see you over his shoulder again, shrugged playfully: “Maybe I should get a blindfold.”

“No, no,” you backed off, lips twisting into a smile when he turned around. “I’ll be good, I swear.”

“Good,” he smirked, you could see the wheels turning in his head when he delivered his punch line. A few steps towards you when he spoke: “you’ve always been a rule follower. Some might say…a teacher’s pet.”

“I don’t have to go anywhere with you,” you reminded, a challenging look when you tugged the sheet to cover more skin.

He laughed, came and leaned forward to press a kiss to your mouth. It felt good. Warm. Normal to wake up beside him and normal to shower in his hotel room.

So after meeting up with your friends in the lobby for breakfast you walked around town, hoping they wouldn’t dig too hard for details or corner you in a boutique when you looked at bracelets.

The questions didn’t come until the walk back, the cobblestone sidewalks were easier to navigate than their prying: is he taking you somewhere overnight? Has he said anything about graduation?

You tried to play it off and ignore the ever present buzzing of your own questions, pricking and prodding as the clock ticked.

They sat on the bed in your joint hotel room and watched you try on outfits, Sophie pinched your ass before you blew an air kiss on exit, promising to give a full update upon your return. You could hear Max through the door once you walked down the hall and towards the elevator: She’s not coming back tonight.

Probably true.

Three blocks away from the hotel and around a street corner he stood next to an old car. The shade from gothic buildings covered his side of the street, an evening glow hung over the city.

You let out a laugh when he twirled the keys around his finger but almost dropped them onto the pavement. “Ready?” He lifted his sunglasses.

“We need a car? Where are we going?”

“You have to get in first,” he shrugged, walking around to open the passenger side door for you to climb in. You took a few steps forward, eyed him suspiciously when he smiled. “Just trust me. It’s fine.”

“Sounds like what a kidnapper would say, but I’ll let it slide,” you teased.

“Oh relax,” he laughed, climbing in beside you after rounding the hood of the car. You couldn’t tell the make or the model, knew from the leather interior and the radio in the dash that it might have been as old as you were. “It’s supposed to be--” he cut himself off quickly, “cute, or something, I don’t know.”

You felt your eyebrows raise when he started the engine, watched the palm trees pass by when he made his way out of town. Cute? He wanted to do something cute for you?

You bit your lip when he turned the radio on, then told you about the first time he came here--back in his early thirties--as the scenery shifted from bustling port to quaint country.

You sang along and laughed when he butchered the words to an old Britney song and for a moment his hand found yours and stayed atop your lap, but a bump in the road or any sudden movement could shatter the moment around you.

He pulled up to another coastal village within the hour, promised that you’d enjoy the evening when he opened your door to another cobblestone sidewalk by the sea.

“Dinner, nothing crazy,” he relented once he led you down the street and pointed at the fancy awning and script letters: La Baumette. “But since we can never really go out in New York I figured a tiny town in the South of France might be a bit more…private.”

“It’s beautiful,” you looked around, more palm trees and yachts that speckled the blue sea. “Hold on,” you said, reaching out to smack his chest. “Photo op!”

He rolled his eyes dramatically, smiled when he outstretched his hand.

“Oh come on,” you teased, a few steps over towards the railing when you pulled your phone out of your purse. “Enlighten me.”

He came over, slipped an arm around your waist and took the phone right out of your hand. He pressed his face against yours and smiled. He took two, handed it back to you and inspected them over your shoulder.

“A decent photo,” he quipped, a smile down at you when you looked up at him.

The words almost crept up your throat and over your tongue, slipping out into the orange sky when a man in a suit appeared with menus and gestured for both of you to follow.

I could spend every day doing things like this with you.

So you followed him over to a restaurant with oceanside seating, sipped prosecco and hoped that eventually, your heart would stop pounding and you’d be able to muster up the courage to ask what stood on the other side of your degree.

You ordered chicken and he got a risotto dish, it was easy to laugh about Will’s close call getting to the airport for the flight over, easy to talk like everything was about this was normal.

He kissed you on the sidewalk and licked from your gelato cone without permission and you knew. You were running out of time.

But the thought of bringing it all up and asking for some kind of something from him threatened to burst the bubble of an otherwise perfect evening, perhaps the best night you’d had with him, ever.

One without secrecy and uncertainty and one that, you realized, you could have stayed in forever.

But when you got back to the hotel reality set in. Sophie had agreed to be your cover--a fancy dinner for two best gal pals in case you were caught in the lobby and got suspicious glances. But the other faculty were nowhere to be found, too early for a nightcap at the bar.

“Jason!”

You heard his name from over your shoulder, you both spun and his brows arched at the sight: three guys his age in suits and ties and one of them was Will. Your stomach dropped.

“Hey, hi!” Jason said, a look down at you before he took a few steps over. Surprised but he hugged them, you stood awkwardly off to the side and wondered how much Will knew when he offered a tight-lipped smile in your direction. “I had no idea you guys were gonna be here this year--how are you? Holy shit! How’s Chicago?”

Right. Friends from a former life or former job and you were reduced to the 20-something who was waiting for validation and reassurance from the older guy you were sleeping with. Fuck.

They fell into conversation and you felt Will’s eyes on you. No introduction, no gesture in your direction, my student, one of my writers, nothing. You offered a tiny smile and cut in.

“Sorry--uh--Jason, nice to bump into you on the sidewalk,” a wave to Will despite the tension that now hung in the lobby. “Have a good night.”

You turned and felt their eyes on you, anger in your chest when you realized that you’d probably be stuck on the sidelines, like that, forever. Eighteen steps to the elevator and you pressed the button to ascend with a clenched jaw.

“Hey, hey--what was that?” He was behind you now, his hand around your wrist when the doors opened.

“Nothing, I’m good,” you shook out of his hold and stepped inside, forced a smile that he didn’t believe. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Y/N,” he made a face, looked over his shoulder, and then stepped inside. “What’s happening right now?”

The doors slid shut, only the two of you inside when you selected his floor. You had no clue where your friends were—hadn’t even seen Sophie in the lobby—and whatever conversation was about to unfold didn’t seem like one they’d want to walk in on.

“Nothing, Jason--okay? You can go hang out with Will and those guys, I’ll just get my stuff from your room and go.”

“Those guys are grad school friends,” he informed, “and if I did something wrong I’m gonna need you to tell me because I have no idea how we went from having a great day to this.” He motioned around the elevator as it slowed to a stop, as if your emotions had spilled onto the floor and were a mess he needed to clean up.

You stepped out and turned down the hall towards his room. You talked over your shoulder, “that was awkward for me--I was just standing there. Will saw us come in, and I have no idea what he knows, you didn’t even introduce me to them at all.”

He kept up behind you, pulled his keycard from his wallet when you approached the door to his room. He swiped, pushed it open and let you in. “Okay--sorry, yeah, I was thrown off by seeing them--”

Your clothes were on the coffee table, your toothbrush in the bathroom. Maybe it was the impending giant change in your life or the three glasses of prosecco you had with dinner, but either way, the emotion pushed itself into your eyes.

“I know,” you turned around quickly. The door latched shut behind him, he stared at you with lips parted, like he could tell that this might be the breaking point. “But after the day we had today and sleeping with you for nearly a year and playing this fucking game--or whatever it is that we’re doing!--it sucks to not even be introduced at all.”

He was defensive now, forehead wrinkled when he stammered. “Well I’m sorry, we can go back down and I’ll tell them--”

“No!” You groaned, letting your hands slap against your side as you walked further into the room. Time to get your shit and go. “I can’t do the charade anymore, okay? I can’t sit around and pretend I’m not going home with you or that this isn’t--” a long pause when you sighed, “something.”

“What am I supposed to do, Y/N? Walk in and introduce you and say, hey everyone, this is my student I’ve been fucking for almost a year?”

The frustration in his voice was clear, like he couldn’t even fathom why this was so hard for you to understand. Sure--he couldn’t say that. He couldn’t expose you and your bad choices and he certainly couldn’t expose himself, but the same question tugged at your heart and your thoughts when you looked up at him. He sighed again, like he had to state the obvious to keep both of you in reality. “We’re not a couple.”

No shit. But it only made you more angry.

“Even though the other pillows on my bed smell like you? And the fact that you took care of me after my birthday and you keep those chips in your stupid kitchen because you know I like them?”

He was quiet now, the words you finally spit out landed at his feet with a thud. A shrug of his shoulders when he shook his head and looked around the room.

“We can’t, Y/N--it’s not--” he sighed, cutting himself off when he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I can’t fuck this core faculty thing up.”

You hated the way your eyes were watering, hated the knot in your stomach when his words made it clear: he was choosing his job over you.

But what hurt worse than the look on his face when he tried to let you down gently was the voice in your own head that started screaming: I told you so, I told you so, I told you so.

Of course he had to choose his job over you. You were just stupid enough to be hurt by it.

“Yeah, no--I get it,” you shrugged, a few steps towards the door when you put words in his mouth. “It’s just sex and it’s just fun--”

“That’s not what I said.”

“--and you can’t risk your job and it’s better we just end all of this now.”

He knew you were being flippant, knew that there was anger laced in every word you said as you walked over to the door. “So you’re leaving because I didn’t introduce you to those guys downstairs?”

“No,” you said with a shake of your head, disappointed that he thought this was more petty than it was. “I’m leaving because I don’t want to be your secret anymore.”

You didn’t give him a chance to reply. You tugged the handle and pushed the door open into the hallway, partially because you didn’t feel like crying in front of him but also because the air in his room felt stiff and hot and like it’d wrap around your throat and choke you any second.

You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t admit that you were stupid enough to fall for him and you certainly couldn’t admit it if he was going to look at you like that: like the kid he’d accidentally led on for almost 365 days.

Bitter and alone and even more emotional thanks to the prosecco. You wiped your eyes when the doors to the elevator parted on his floor, another cruel joke from the universe when Marina--who now looked concerned at the sight of you--blinked a few times.

“Hi,” you said shakily, wiped under your eyes to hide the evidence. “Sorry--I’m okay, just tired.”

“That feels…like a load of shit,” she laughed a little, stepped off and crossed her arms. The hallway was quiet, you were quiet, unsure what to say. When you didn’t speak, Marina shrugged. “Wanna go down to the bar and get a drink?”

So you followed her back into the elevator, laughed when she joked about being a tourist with a fanny pack. You hung your purse on a stool at the bar, climbed up and eyed the menu when she slid it over.

She scanned over the cocktail list and didn’t make eye contact, her offer was casual: “Wanna talk?”

“I just had a bad night,” you dismissed, hoping that in the morning those words would feel more true.

You wondered what he was doing upstairs. Sitting on his bed like he had been when you left? Head in his hands? Exasperated and confused just like you?

She looked over at you now, eyebrows arched on her forehead. “Because of a man?”

You nodded. That felt safe to admit.

“Professor Sudeikis?”

You looked up at her quickly, eyes wide and lips parted. “No--” you shook your head.

She smiled, looked back down at the drink list and shrugged. “Your secret’s safe with me--I mean, you know, if it is because of him.”

You were silent, stomach in a knot and desperately trying to figure out what to say. I would never, he would never, it’s not like that.

But the way she smiled when she looked at you again brought a wave of relief. It didn’t feel judgmental, didn’t feel like she was disapproving or ready to call Dean Vasquez and rat you out. Instead, she waited for a moment, curiosity in her eyes before the bartender materialized in front of you. You both ordered: a gin and tonic for her and more prosecco for you, so much for celebrating. A deep breath when you turned to face her.

“How do you know?”

“Well--I don’t,” she said honestly, a little bit of a laugh. “Instinct, gut feeling, I guess.”

“I know it’s wrong,” you nodded quickly, figuring it was best to get out in front of it. “Unethical and immoral and fucked up.”

She looked surprised at the last one. “Then why’s it happening?”

You swallowed, dropped her gaze and inspected the polish in your nails. A single shrug. “Because I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” she laughed. “I mean, sleeping with your professor might not be the greatest decision you’ve ever made but…it takes two to tango.”

You nodded, already wondering if you’d said too much. “Please don’t say anything, Marina--I know it’s fucked up and I know it’s wrong but it’s done now. It’s definitely finished.”

You hoped those were good enough reasons. All of that paired with the fact that you knew Marina liked you and you knew she thought you were a great filmmaker.

She thought on this for a second, nodded to herself as she thought it over. “You’re also graduating in, like, a week. After that you can sleep with whoever you want.”

“I don’t think he even wants to speak to me right now, so--”

“He’s an idiot,” she said suddenly, a roll of her eyes when she put her elbows on the bar.

“What do you mean?”

A pause before she answered, like she didn’t know how to say it. “I figured that there might be something between the two of you,” she lowered her voice. “I mean, you guys are ridiculously flirty and even I’ve seen it.”

You shrunk at this. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You knew it was a bad idea from the start.

“But I didn’t know it was actually happening. If he’s already slept with you and is ending it now two weeks before you graduate because of a fight or disagreement or something, he’s stupid.”

You laughed a little, thankful for her solidarity despite the messy situation.

“I think we let it go on too long,” you said honestly. “Once or twice might have been fun, but, I don’t know. Now it’s messy and the lines are blurred and--” you cut yourself off. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be venting to you.”

The corner of her mouth pulled up, the bartender appeared and placed your drinks on napkins. “Now it’s messy and the lines are blurred?”

Okay, so you actually could talk to her about it.

“I mean, maybe not now,” you laughed. “It’s been messy.”

“Well,” she lifted her drink and let it bump against yours. “If you’d like to share, what made tonight end in tears?”

You watched as she took a sip, thought about how to string the words together to make yourself sound less pathetic.

“I--uh--kind of casually implied that it might be nice…if it were more than just…casual.”

She nodded along.

“But that was not received well,” you admitted.

“Ah,” Marina nodded.

“And I get it,” you said now, apparently the flood gates had opened and you were ready to talk it through. “He’s got the whole core faculty thing next year and obviously it’s not a good look.”

“Not exactly,” she agreed. A beat when you let out a sigh and took another sip. She was hesitant, unsure if she should even ask: “Do you have, like, real feelings for him?”

You laughed a little, watched the bubbles rise in your glass when you put it back atop a square napkin. Marina nodded, knew without words that your reaction was a yes. Luckily she knew not to pour salt in a wound.

“Well, you didn’t ask, but…from one woman to another, you’re too smart and talented and you have too much ahead of you to let some asshole guy make you feel like you’re not good enough.”

You giggled a little, let your eyes glance in her direction. “I thought you and Jason were friends?”

“Oh we are,” she nodded emphatically. “But that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of being an asshole.”

Another sip, she clinked her glass against yours and eventually Sophie showed up to take over. Naomi and Max, too, and when you climbed into bed that night beside Max and heard Sophie’s snoring, you felt a tiny bit better.

At least you could always count on them.

May 16th, 2019

To: Y/N L/N

From: Jason Sudeikis

Subject: Final grade

May 16th, 2019 - 1:56pm

Hi Y/N,

Thanks for submitting your final paper early, it’s great. Final grade for Theory and Practice Seminar is an A.

Prof. Jason Sudeikis, PhD

Cinema Studies, NYU Tisch

Office hours M/W 10am-12pm or by appointment

To: Jason Sudeikis

From: Y/N L/N

Subject: RE: Final grade

May 16th, 2019 - 6:28pm

Sounds good, thanks

Best,

Y/N L/N

MFA Candidate

Cinema Studies, NYU Tisch

(212-555-8495)

You’d never been a fan of long flights. Luckily, the one home from France seven days prior was made more manageable thanks to the window seat that Max offered up and the half Xanax of Sophie’s that you took with a swig of apple juice at the airport.

Jason and the rest of the NYU crew were on the same flight, different rows, far away, and fortunately there were no bathroom run-ins.

New York had bloomed in the days you were gone, your apartment felt tinier upon return and you immediately scoured the internet for job postings over a glass of red blend.

Not that you planned on applying. You know, you were just covering your bases.

A week off from work thanks to your impending graduation ceremony, a giant vase of purple flowers arrived from all of them. Dan, Jennie, Javier, and Jason. You wondered what he said when one of them suggested it. It was probably Jennie.

Your friends were supportive. They requested your presence at every pre-graduation event: cap decorating at O’Halloran’s and some type of booze cruise on the Hudson. The good thing is that they didn’t give you shit when you flaked at the last second both times.

In fact, you managed to make it through the whole week without a lecture from any of them about rebounding. Until you were on the subway heading for Yankee Stadium.

Your purple cap and gown was itchy, you stood next to Sophie by one of the doors and watched as Max scrolled on Tinder.

“Have you swiped right on anyone, ever?” You smirked at him a little, he looked up at you quickly and was already unimpressed.

“I’m picky--which is a good thing.”

“True,” you nodded. “Wouldn’t want you to accidentally end up with a loser.”

He looked back down at his screen and kept swiping. “Have you even been on any of the apps in the last year?”

Sophie let out a sharp laugh. “I bet her last chat is from when she matched with Sudeikis.”

“So what if it is?” You asked her.

Max looked up at you with puppy-eyes. “Maybe you need a hot date to take your mind off of Professor Daddy?”

“I would rather wine and weed,” you said honestly.

“He’s onto something,” Sophie pointed at Max. “Sometimes a rebound fuck is fun.”

“No thanks.”

“You’re being miserable on purpose,” Max made a face.

“Okay,” Naomi held up a hand. “Today is a happy day, remember? We’re all happy.”

She was looking at you. So you offered a giant grin and made your eyes bug out of your head, followed them to the student meeting area and checked in with your NYU IDs. You avoided the area where the professors were, had no clue if he was over there in his own dumb cap and dumb gown as part of the tradition of the day, but you figured that if one of your friends saw him, you’d find out within a quick 60-seconds.

The seats in the stadium were cramped and sticky, and the May sun was unforgiving. Your family was somewhere in the giant crowd and the whole thing felt anti-climatic. A ninety-minute ceremony and suddenly, just like that, you had a degree and a damaged ego.

It was a happy day. No matter how the last year of your master’s program went, you were proud of the accomplishment and proud of your friends. At least that’s what you planned on telling your parents when you met up with them for lunch in Chelsea.

They wanted to freshen up first, according to a text from your mom. So when they went back to their hotel you took the long way home, got off a few stops early and walked through Union Square to trade in your regalia for celebration-appropriate street clothes.

Another three days before you’d have to face him, plenty of time to think up some kind of out and rehearse it endlessly in front of your mirror: no hard feelings, let’s pretend it never happened, strictly professional.

Your diploma would arrive by mail in a matter of weeks, but now the last three years felt too big to print on paper. Countless scripts and short films, late nights in the library had all culminated into student loans and incomprehensible confusion.

At least you had a job you liked. Too bad you’d already slept with the boss.

So you were sad overall. Angry, sure, about the way he let you walk out of his room that night and the way he hadn’t texted you in a week. He avoided you in the lobby the morning you left and he hadn’t called.

But more than anything you were scared to think about your life without him. Or, well, without him in it the way he had been. Who would you complain to about Jennie? Who was going to talk you off the ledge about script submissions and red ink? Somehow he’d left a decidedly Jason-shaped hole in your life that felt obvious and sharp and sore.

Showing up at 30 Rock on Monday would be weird. Maybe not as weird as that time you showed up after he fingered you in his office, but still.

And in your absent minded strolling you turned left onto your block, stared down at the picture of the two of you in France before you decided you’d been tortured enough today. You clicked it shut, dropped it into the tote bag on your shoulder, where you’d already shoved your cap and tassel once you’d gotten on the train. Keys, somewhere inside.

“Hi.”

Your head snapped up at the sound of his voice. He leaned against the iron railing, sat on the steps of your building like he’d been waiting for you all day.

You stopped, stood a safe distance away from him. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to talk.”

“Were you at graduation?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I figured I did a good enough job of ruining your last year--didn’t want to ruin that, too.”

A beat, a breeze through the leaves overhead and a distant honk from a taxi. You stared at him. “Well, what do you want to talk about?”

He laughed a little, apparently less nervous now that you hadn’t had an explosive outburst or tried to punch him. “About us.”

You narrowed your eyes, couldn’t help it. “I thought there was no ‘us.’”

He ignored your comment, stood and looked you up and down with a smirk on his face.

“I like your outfit.”

Silence.

“Can I come inside?”

You exhaled, but then paused. “How long have you been sitting here?”

Another tiny laugh, like he was embarrassed to admit it. “Thought I’d catch you before you left, but--”

“I went to Sophie’s this morning.”

He looked at his watch. “I showed up at like, 8:30?”

Your eyebrows rose, it was already almost noon and Sophie had mimosas waiting for you at 7:30. The ceremony started at 9am and he’d been here all this time?

“Oh.”

“Yeah--I could use some water.”

You rolled your eyes at his request, he tugged on the collar of his shirt and pretended to pant.

“Cool it,” you warned. “I just sat in the direct sun for two and a half hours.”

He watched as you stepped around him and keyed into the lobby, “touché.”

He followed you up the stairs in silence and stood awkwardly in your kitchen when you got him a glass of water. You handed it to him and watched him drink it without pausing.

“I’m meeting my parents for lunch in…less than an hour.”

“I can be quick,” he nodded, another laugh when he wiped his mouth and put the glass on your kitchen counter.

You waited, unblinking, as he took a breath. Why was he here? What did he want?

“I completely understand and respect that you’re uninterested in being a secret--my secret, because you shouldn’t have to be one in the first place. Anyone’s. Which--you know--me being a professor and you being a student kind of fucked that up from the start.”

You nodded. Sure. Fine. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. You both agreed to keep your mouths shut.

“But--”

“But?”

“But at the start it wasn’t…this.”

“You lost me,” You said, not following.

Another breath, more a huff, really, that you tried not to laugh at. He nodded to himself and you wondered how much rehearsing he’d done on your front step.

“You were right…in Cannes, that this is something. And I think I’ve known that, but I’ve been so hung up on the fact that it shouldn’t be something. But that doesn’t mean it’s not.” He made a face at his own vagueness, smirked a little when you met his eyes again.

“Am I making any sense?” He asked.

You shrugged, still unsure where he was going and still unsure if you’d give in that easily.

He tried again. “Just because having feelings for you is unethical doesn’t mean I don’t have them.”

Now you nodded again, repeated his words in your kitchen. “So, you have feelings for me?”

“Are you going to repeat any of this to Dean Vasquez?” He asked.

“No,” you rolled your eyes.

“Then yes,” he nodded confidently. “I like you, and not just because I like having sex with you.”

You smiled, figured you’d play it cool for old time’s sake. “Good to know.”

His jaw dropped a bit in jest, he watched you turn around and unclasp your necklace. “Good to know?! I wait outside on your front step all day and that’s all you have to say?”

“I have to go meet up with my parents! And it’s only been a few hours,” you warned, laughing when he rolled his eyes at that. You took off an earring but held his gaze. “Maybe we can finish this conversation on the other side of my lunch reservation?”

“Should I come? Show them what else you’ve been doing this year aside from getting a Masters degree?”

“No,” you laughed at his joke, a few steps over towards your dresser. “Definitely not.”

He came and unzipped your dress without being asked, sat on the edge of your bed when you stepped out of it and into a pair of jeans.

“Well,” he pushed his lips out in thought. “I cleared my calendar for this, so I’m ready to finish this conversation whenever you are.”

You peered at him over your shoulder, ran a brush through your hair and smiled a little. There’d always been something there, the reason you got into this mess in the first place was due to the same thread of tension between the two of you that existed today, right here, in your tiny apartment.

“You can stay here--if you want? While I’m gone? Or you could leave and come back later. Up to you.”

He smiled up at you, maybe that was enough of an answer for him.

“I’ll stay,” he said, a quick redirection when his brow furrowed. “Just to be clear, you’ll come back if I’m here, right? This isn’t your way of getting rid of me now that you’re not my student?”

“You’re still my boss,” you reminded. “Sort of.”

He nodded, “and that’s still hot.”

You turned around, now changed and ready to shoulder a bag before heading across town. A few steps over until you were right in front of him.

He kept your gaze for a second, reached a hand up for yours. “I’m sorry I ruined the only real date we’ve ever really been on.”

You let out a quick laugh, tugged your hand away and patted him on the shoulder when you shook your head. “Oh, we haven’t been on a date.”

His eyes got wide. “Renting an old car and taking you to a fancy restaurant isn’t a date?”

“Up until…” you checked a wristwatch that wasn’t there and smirked, “two hours ago, I was still your student. So no. You can’t take your student on a date. But you can take the 27-year-old woman you’ve been sleeping with for a while on one.”

He fought the smile on his face, nodded slowly but played along. “Got it. Okay.”

“Okay? I’ve gotta go. Do you need a snack?”

“I know where you keep everything,” he reassured.

You leaned down, let him kiss you on the mouth before you smiled. “You’re sure you’re okay to stay?”

He was. He did.

Maybe neither of you knew how to do this. Maybe crossing lines and bending rules wasn’t your forte and when he clinked a glass of wine against yours that night on your fire escape, it felt okay to not know.

After spending a year living in uncertainty it was nice to wake up beside him, knowing that whatever this was, it was the start of your new chapter: whatever comes next.

AN: There's an epilogue, don't say I didn't tell ya!

table of contents | talk to me & join the tag list | the playlist

tag list: @sheerangermany @clarebearr @tedlassostan @hart-kinsella @kahluamystery97 @airplanes924 @trulymadlykiki @thisismysecondrodeo @mypugsley @jng4kook @msolbesg @stankface @ljej95 @ivetastedbloodanditissweet @pascal-reyes @paola-carter @rubberduckingaro @golden-hoax @ccbb2222 @caplikeme @outofthecradlex @mackenzmeme @reann-shitposting @very-berry-harry @winter-soldier-007 @tinydeskwriter @femmel90 @shawnsblue @iwanttogoeverywhereplease @sillyeverydays @goodbyesaneworld @sillyeverydays

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#a study in you #jason sudeikis #asiy #jason sudeikis fan fiction #jason sudeikis fanfic #jason sudeikis fic #jason sudeikis blurb #jason sudeikis fan fic #jason sudeikis fiction #jason sudeikis writing #jason sudeikis fanfiction #jason sudeikis x reader #jason sudeikis x female reader #jason sudeikis reader insert #ted lasso fan fic #ted lasso

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majestyeverlasting · 3 years ago

Text

I Felt It in My Bones

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Being in the arms of your lover is good for the soul. Especially when paired with snowflakes falling from a darkening sky and reminiscing about moments that made you feel alive.

Word Count: ~900

A/N: This is a humble offering to all my lovely readers. I drove back to my hometown today, and this cozy, little storyline just flowed out of nowhere. If you cannot tell, my mind has skipped the remainder of fall, and jumped to winter and Christmas. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this. Rest assured that I'm still working on the requests I've received. You all are saints for being so patient.

Some nights were quieter than others. And they were oftentimes when Bucky craved your touch the most. Because if you were too far away, it seemed plausible that you would drift off to the place where all things beautiful resided—among the stars, perhaps. Yet there you were; with him on his firm, little couch. But no one could have paid you to mind. Not if it meant being tucked into his warmth with his arm draped over your shoulders as if that was where it always belonged. The first snow of the season was falling outside in wispy flakes. Below, the streets were coated in a thin, white blanket. Come morning, the plow trucks would surely be making their routes as children watched in dismay.

A few minutes had passed since any words were exchanged between you. The TV was on and turned to a channel hosting a Christmas movie marathon. It served as no more than background noise, however. The two of you were more in tune to each other than anything. You'd started scrolling through your camera roll, and Bucky watched along with small flames of reminiscence kindling in his chest. Mainly due to the fact that he was in so many of the photos. Quite a few of them were candid shots of him doing a small task or with something scenic in the background from past excursions.

You eventually came across one you’d taken back during the spring, a couple weeks after the two of you had confessed your romantic feelings for each other. It was late, and he’d coaxed you into tagging along with him to a gym session. In the picture, Bucky was halfway through a deadlift rep, quads bulging, with his gaze set on the mirror in front of him. There hadn’t been anything spectacular about the gym trip itself, but what came after had been the closest thing to magic you’d ever felt.

Somehow, the two of you had managed to find a deli that was still open and served decent food. You had settled into one of the booths to eat, and at some point within your conversation you had said something goofy that drew the most resonant belly laughter out of him. Even the man who prepared your food, spared a glance and shook his head with a little smirk. There were no words to describe the way it made pride swell within you. And though you hadn’t captured the moment on camera, it remained in a special place in your heart where it would live on forever.

“Do you remember this night?” You tapped the picture of him deadlifting so it would come up bigger.

Bucky hummed and pressed a kiss to your temple. “You made me look like an idiot in that deli,” he recounted. “God knows I needed that laugh, though. Swore I felt it in my bones.”

“Bet you felt the kiss we had afterwards in your bones too.” After leaving the deli, you remember settling back into his car and leaning across the console to steal a kiss before he started the engine.

“Felt that everywhere,” he mused. He then took your chin between the thumb and forefinger of his vibranium hand, and turned your head so that he could press his soft lips to yours. “Love you,” he murmured into the kiss.

You swallowed the profession as if it were a sweet honey, and wasted no time saying it right back. Your body felt light when you pulled away. And Bucky’s eyes looked somewhat dazed, though that could have been accredited to the tiredness that was beginning to establish itself. He ended up leaning in for one more sweet peck.

“Thank you,” he said. “For coming over and just… you know. Just being with me. I know you wanted to go see that light show, but I really don’t think I could’ve done crowds tonight.” There was no shame in his tone, only a profound degree of gratitude that washed over you like a moonlit tide.

“Anytime. I totally understand,” you assured. “The light show’s gonna be around for the rest of the month anyways. We can give next weekend a try.”

“For sure,” he said. “Definitely don’t wanna miss the opportunity to see you all excited like a little kid. And point a whole bunch of stuff out to me when I’m already looking.” The note of teasing to his tone held truth, and he playfully pinched at your side when he saw that you were trying not to laugh. You eventually caved, and buried your face into his shoulder as if you’d somehow become invisible.

“You’re being mean now,” you mumbled into his shirt.

“Can’t understand you, pretty girl.”

You lifted your head and looked into his eyes. They held a kind depth that you never minded getting lost within.

“Mean,” you repeated. “You’re being mean. You know the lights are cool. I swear a part of me never grew up, but I couldn’t care less.” Bucky had started smiling at you by that point and your lips were curved upwards as well.

The moment in itself was a manifestation of what it meant to be happy. And as he looked at you, he couldn’t help but be convinced that you were the light in his life that would always shine brighter than all the rest.

Thank you so much for reading!

More fluffy Bucky fics here.

To join my "taglist," follow @taleseverlasting

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky x fem reader #bucky x you #winter soilder

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writseo · 4 years ago

Text

Nathan Prescott | I Can’t Believe My Heart

Word Count: 1.3K

Tagging: @sacredwarrior88

Warnings: None

I’ve been taught, I’ve learned the hard way that life and love are never just.

“Are you okay?”

You were walking by the trail of lockers, right next to Stella. It had only been a few days since your ex had broken it off with you. You didn’t really like the relationship too much, but it still felt like home. It was filled with security, or at least you thought so. When he tore off the band-aid, confessed how his attraction had died down so drastically for you over the years, you swore to yourself to never go back. To never go back to such a vulnerable place only to let someone take a hit to beat you down. Last night, you had been crying yourself in your pillow for the third time that day. Now, you were numb. Afraid, but mainly numb and just wanted to isolate yourself in your dorm.

“Are you okay?” You looked towards Stella.

“Yeah, I just need a bit of time to gather myself.”

That was 8 months ago. Despite the fact that the wounds were just finally healing, the pain still lingered like a bruise. The wounds were okay when untouched but once it was pressed, it ached.

You were sitting in your desk, waiting for Jefferson to continue on with his lesson and tell you about the project that he had set up for all of you.

“You will be assigned a partner and an artist. I want you to both work together to try to replicate this historical figure’s work, through a pair of camera lenses, do you all understand?” Some groans and low “Yeah”s filled the room, “Okay, I have a list set up.”

As Jefferson walked over to his desk, you noticed some giggling from the side of the room. Looking over, you spotted a certain teen, speaking to the other students with a similar jacket to his. You didn’t really like him, in fact, you thought he was a bit annoying. Nathan had always been a constant distraction in the classroom. You couldn’t stand him though, you just wanted to pass the class and yet he would somehow make it harder, even though he never really spoke to you directly nor did he probably even know your name. Jefferson reached back to the center of the room, pushing Nathan out of the conversation he had with his friends.

“Victoria and Taylor, Joseph Nicéphore Niépce… Nathan and (Y/N), Alfred Steiglitz…” Your mind trailed off. You already worked with his people like him before. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he left the whole project for you to do. You looked over to Nathan, seeing him tilt his head. It wasn’t like he was familiar to your name. You were rarely called on, barely spoke to him either. You wished it was the same for you.

And if you trust, you're just one of the fools.

After several classes of trying your best to get the perfect shot, the one that would end up skyrocketing your grade, you and Nathan had seemed to get… closer. As you worked to get the different angles right, the two of you would make small chats. And when it became darker, so did the small conversations that took place. One minute, it went from living in Arcadia Bay to how his father expects so much from him. You didn’t expect it though. You had always been taught to believe that Nathan Prescott was just another… well, Prescott. You forgot how he was still a person though, with feelings, who suffered from rumours more than anyone else did. The annoyance in your head would soon change towards your stomach, then to butterflies. At first, you thought it was because of the sudden attention. No one listened or looked at you as much as he did, especially in such a tedious manner. You thought that maybe it was just nerves, until you started noticing his fluffy hair. And his blue, sparkling eyes. Or perhaps the way he would always be playing with his fingers in such a tense way.

“What are you looking at?” He snapped at you from the park’s bench. You were trying to capture a melancholic picture, though your camera was facing towards the streets and your eyes were in a different direction, eyeing a different picture. Even though you had grew a slight friendship with the boy, it never stopped him from giving you the sass that helped entertain you.

“Nothing, sorry,” You said, shyly. You then went back to your camera, and continued on with your efforts.

Pull it together, you thought, you already have enough shit going on. Don’t add onto it with this, again.

And now I can’t believe my heart, is saying I don’t resist him

Somehow, in his little sociopathic heart, he felt a bit of guilt. All the work was laid on you, Nathan had nothing to take part in it. The least he could do was take you to get some lunch, or even dinner.

“They have the best pancakes,” Nathan claimed, enthusiastically as he held open the door for you. Even though you felt irritated in a small sense, your heart still jumped when you felt his gaze on your back as you entered the restaurant.

“Where do you want to sit?”

“Anywhere.”

When you made your way to the booth that was all the way in the back, you felt his hand graze against your body. You didn’t want the shiver to pass through your spine. But you did, and you felt how intoxicating the boy was. For a moment, you almost paused. At least until the hand retreated back and you began to miss the sweet feeling.

Later that night, you would be on your bed, curled up into a little ball, crying your eyes out. You played this game too many times. You couldn’t play it again.

That I've been on my guard too long.

Even though you wanted nothing more than to be separated from him, that didn’t stop the small happiness from slipping through you when he would come closer. When the project ended and you both had already finished it up, you felt excited when you found him making his way towards you. Nathan didn’t really have a purpose, none that you know of. So it made you smile when you found that he liked you enough to hang out with you willingly.

Once the class had ended, you found the man making his way towards your table. You pretended to be busy, putting away books and rummaging through your bag so you wouldn’t have to make eye contact.

“(Y/N)?” you looked up, “Can we meet up at the lighthouse? I want to show you something.”

You nodded and mumbled a small “sure.” Giving you a quick small smile, he walked back off.

I can't believe my heart~

You walked up the hill, following the signs. It was almost night, stars were beginning to shine. The bench that usually laid empty was occupied by a familiar full head of hair. He then turned around and glanced at you. He stood up and walked himself towards you. With each stride, your heart began to pound louder and louder. You managed to take out a leg and made your way towards Nate.

“You are here,” he said. You nodded.

“In the flesh.”

“I want to ask you something,” he nipped at his lips and scratched his top of his head with his left hand.

“Is everything okay?” You were concerned, especially when he started fidgeting with his hands a bit.

“I was thinking that we should go out sometime, like as a date?” Nathan looked at you, waiting for your response as a light blush took over his cheeks.

~Surrendered when I kissed him.

“Sure, why not?”

#Life is strange #lis #nathan prescott x reader #nathan prescott #song drabble #requests are open!

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pastelwitchling · 3 years ago

Text

For Forever (1/2)

CHAPTER ONE. WORDS FAIL

“Michael fears he’s pushed Alex away for good.”

I’ve decided to start posting my chaptered fics here on tumblr, too. If you enjoyed reading this even a little bit, please comment and share/reblog, it always makes the world of a difference 💕

read on ao3

tags: malex, forlex, malex happy ending

***

Michael leaned against the wall, a fancy glass of whiskey in hand that he’d filled with acetone hours ago. About the time Isobel had started scolding him for ditching the suit she’d laid out for him for tonight and gone with his flannel and cowboy hat instead.

Isobel laughed with a group of chattering guests. Still smiling, and through grit teeth, she leaned in close to Michael and said, “At least pretend you want to be here.”

“Nah,” Michael said, and took another gulp of his drink. He could’ve argued that most of these women didn’t seem to mind Michael’s clothes, seeing as how he’d gotten a few side eyes and more than a few passing touches to his arm, his hand, his jaw. He kept his eyes focused straight ahead, unable and unwilling to offer more than a smirk.

He had other people on his mind tonight. Particularly, he had one person. One person who he had walked in on in the bunker and seen making out with his boyfriend, one person who’d stuck in his mind since. And he was walking through the front door now, his boyfriend at his side, Rosa on the other. Not that Michael could look at anyone else with the way Alex was dressed. He wore a dark brown suit and white button-down shirt underneath. His hair was a mess of perfect, windswept strands, his cheeks were rosy, and his lips looked like he’d been chewing on them nervously all night.

Or like someone else had been chewing on them.

Michael shook the thought from his head. Forrest was here, after all, and he was Alex’s boyfriend, and his boyfriend had every right to put an arm around Alex’s waist and pull him in against him if he wanted. To murmur against his ear and kiss his cheek and be the one to hear him laugh before anyone else, just as he was doing now.

It didn’t matter how badly Michael wanted to tear Forrest’s throat out, or rip his arm off Alex’s body, or crush his fingers and threaten him that Alex was his, that he wasn’t allowed to touch him ever again. What mattered was what Alex wanted, and Alex wanted Forrest’s touch, Forrest’s lips, Forrest’s attention. Michael finished his drink and grabbed another off a passing tray, already reaching into his pocket for the flask of nail polish remover.

“What is that, your fifth glass tonight?” Max murmured as Michael downed half the glass in one gulp.

“Sixth,” Michael corrected, hissing at the burn and glad for it.

Max glanced at Alex across the ballroom and said, “How long’s it been since you two talked?”

“Yesterday,” Michael shrugged a shoulder. “On the phone. Before I went to the bunker because I missed him and found him halfway out of his shirt.”

He knew he’d probably startled Max with his confession, but anger and misery and alcohol eased his sense of caution and made him vulnerable.

Max, however, seemed to have known that already because he only scoffed. “And let me guess,” he said. “You just bolted.”

Michael raised a brow. “What’d you want me to do, throw Long off with my mind?”

Max sighed, like he knew that was exactly what Michael had wanted and been very tempted to do, and barely managed to refrain.

“This is important to Isobel, okay?” was all Max ended up saying. “It’s her big event, whatever you’re going to do, just don’t do it inside.”

Alex looked over then and caught Michael’s gaze. He held it for just a moment, his smile turning tighter, and he looked away.

Michael sniffed, placing his empty glass in Max’s hands. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Without waiting for his brother’s response, Michael walked across the ballroom, the marble tiles glittering under the white light of the fake candles, swaying his hips. If Alex saw him coming, he was pretending to be preoccupied with another guest, a tall elderly woman in white that seemed to like raking his body with her eyes.

Forrest had disappeared, but Michael didn’t know or care where. All he cared about was Alex. When he came close enough, Alex glanced at him, his brows furrowing as if he hadn’t expected Michael to come up to him in the middle of a conversation.

Michael saw him plaster on a smile and heard him say the words, “Excuse me, please,” before he tried to turn towards the door. Michael couldn’t help but smile, an eager laugh escaping his lips as he hurried his pace and caught Alex around the waist with his arm. He pressed his chest to Alex’s back, his nose to the back of Alex’s head, deeply inhaling his vanilla and floral scent.

Alex gasped, startled, and Michael moaned, his eyes fluttering shut to the smell of Alex, his strength, his warmth.

“You look good,” he breathed.

“Guerin,” Alex warned quietly, “let me go.”

Michael chuckled under his breath, and swiped his tongue across the nape of Alex’s neck, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the airman.

“You and I both know you can break my arm before I say your name,” Michael drawled. “If I’m still touching you –” he brought his hand lower, to the hem of Alex’s shirt “—it’s because you want me to.”

Alex whipped around, and Michael brought both arms up to hold him close, pressing their foreheads together. Somewhere past his drunken haze, he could make out Alex’s frustration and anger. Somewhere, he knew this was a bad idea and would only hurt them both. Somehow he knew he was crossing some line by touching Alex at all.

On the surface level, however, Michael could only think of Alex’s hands holding Forrest’s face, pulling him in closer to kiss. He was jealous, he wanted Alex for himself, and he wanted him now.

Alex’s fists were on his chest, his eyes downcast as if trying with everything he had to resist him.

“Come on, baby,” Michael murmured with a lazy grin. “I’ve got my truck out back.”

“You’re drunk,” Alex said, shaking his head. “You can’t do this here, Guerin.”

“I can take you away,” Michael promised. “Just you and me. We could leave, right now.”

Something Michael said seemed to have woken Alex because he blinked and his brows furrowed.

“What?” Michael faltered, leaning in close, trying to keep Alex’s eyes, but Alex wouldn’t look at him anymore. “What’s wrong, baby –”

Michael cut off as Alex took his wrists, and gently but firmly brought his hands down. He didn’t let go for a long while. They were close enough that they could’ve whispered, and no one else would’ve heard.

“I wanted it to be just you and me, Guerin,” Alex said, “but you said no, remember?”

Michael frowned. His drunken haze sharpened a little to the present just as Alex let go of his hands, and he felt like he was drowning while his feet stayed on solid ground. Alex stepped back and looked to his right. He mustered a smile for Forrest who came holding two drinks.

“Hey, Guerin,” Forrest smiled, a laugh in his voice. “Drunk already, huh? I can’t blame you. This place isn’t really my scene either.”

Michael clenched his jaw. Kind Forrest. Understanding Forrest. How incredible was Alex’s boyfriend? They’d barely been together a month, but it felt like a year. Wasn’t Alex done with him yet?

Angry and too drunk to mask it now, Michael leaned in to Alex’s ear where his lips just brushed the shell, and he murmured, “Is he just to keep your bed warm? ‘Cause I can do it better.”

Alex put a hand on Michael’s chest and put distance between them. Before he said a word to Michael, he looked to Forrest. “Just a minute?”

Forrest looked confused, but nodded, and Alex touched his hand in thanks. Then he was leading Michael away, towards the door.

As soon as they stopped, Alex said, “I get it, okay? I didn’t plan on you walking in on us either, and I get you’re upset, but I’m an adult, Guerin. I get to make my own decisions, and I chose Forrest.”

Michael’s eye twitched. “Private –”

“I wanted you, and you wanted someone else,” Alex said, and Michael fell silent. “And it killed me to keep quiet, but I kept quiet. For you.”

“I’m not like you,” Michael growled. “I can’t pretend I don’t love you like you pretended.”

“Love?” Alex scoffed miserably. He didn’t look angry, just sad. So sad it made Michael’s heart ache and cleared his haze almost completely. “You betrayed me, Guerin. I can’t help but think that if she hadn’t broken things off, you wouldn’t even look at me.”

“I don’t look away, Alex,” Michael said fiercely, and Alex was shaking his head, as if unable to understand how Michael could miss the glaringly obvious.

“You did,” he whispered. “I don’t trust you, Guerin. What does love matter then?”

Michael opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. Alex’s shoulders fell, as if he’d wanted, more than anything, for Michael to give him a reason to believe in him again.

Alex sighed. “Look, I’ve got to go, Forrest is waiting.” He patted Michael’s arm as he passed, no differently than he would’ve done to Kyle or Max, and walked away.

Michael didn’t turn around. He didn’t want to see Alex pretend to smile, to see Forrest’s kindness bring out any real happiness in him. He didn’t want to see Forrest melt Alex’s heart, Forrest’s hand on Alex’s lower back, Forrest’s lips on Alex’s ear, his cheek, the corner of his lips, where Michael’s lips should’ve been.

Not caring what his siblings thought had happened, he turned into the night and left the party, and Alex and his boyfriend, behind.

It wasn’t until the next day when Michael was seated at a booth at the Crashdown when he saw Alex again. The airman slid into the seat opposite him, tossing a file onto the table between them.

“Every report I can find on 1950’s captives,” he said casually as he waved down a waitress. “I know it’s not a lot to go off, but they’d just established Caulfield, so I think they were still working on their systems. A burger, fries, and milkshake, please,” he told the waitress who went off with a smile.

Michael raised his brow. He shouldn’t push his luck, he knew. Alex, after all, was being cordial. So everything should’ve been fine, right? Still, he couldn’t help his curiosity.

“You talking to me now, Private?”

Alex raised a brow. “I was never not talking to you, Guerin.”

“Really?” Michael smirked humorlessly. “Because I think you cut things off all clean and pretty at the event last night.”

Alex stared at Michael a moment, considering. Finally, he sighed and said, “You know, ever since I met Forrest – no. Ever since I found out you and Maria slept together, there’s been a battle going on in my head. I felt angry and jealous and hurt, and I knew I had no right to feel any of those things, not towards you. And then after I kissed Forrest, it was a whole new battle on top. I felt guilty for liking someone else, for wanting to – to try with someone else, and I couldn’t understand why.”

Alex wearily wiped a hand across his face. “I mean, I love you. I shouldn’t want to give up on being with you, I shouldn’t want to scream at the idea of you finally coming after me, even if it was only because your girlfriend ended things –”

“Alex –”

“I’m not finished,” Alex said, seemingly calm, though there was a chill in the way he looked at Michael. Like he was a stranger he didn’t like very much. “Last night it hit me that the reason I don’t want to be with you is because I don’t trust you. I don’t trust your feelings for me, I don’t trust that I’m not just some backup. I don’t trust that I’m allowed to be scared or – or miserable around you without you leaving me for something easier again.”

Alex huffed and gave their waitress a smile when she delivered his meal. “Thanks,” he said. “It’s a relief, honestly. No more battles, just the simple truth. Now, finally, I think we can move on past all of this. Don’t you?”

His smile was so polite, as if Michael was any acquaintance, that Michael felt his eyes burn and his fists clench. He wanted to scream about the unfairness of it all, about all of the times Alex had walked away. Except when he hadn’t. Except when he had come to the airstream again and again to fix things between them. Except when he’d told Michael that he loved him, that he wanted to start over, that he wanted to get to know him.

When things between them started to seem real, when it looked like they finally might be together, Michael had been the one to run. To someone else. No wonder Alex couldn’t trust his feelings.

When he spoke next, his words came out quiet and afraid to his own ears, “I don’t want to move on without you.”

For a moment, something fractured in Alex’s eyes, and Michael wondered whether or not all the battles in his head were really gone. Before he could think any of it, however, Alex shrugged and dipped a fry in his milkshake.

Without looking at Michael, his easy, resigned smile slotted into place, and he said, “You’ll get over it.”

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #forrest long #forlex #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis #christian antidormi

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ahtsumu · 4 years ago

Text

under the light of the fireflies

pairing: miya atsumu x f!reader

synopsis: every summer, you fall deeper in love with a forest spirit who never ages. inspired by hotarubi no mori e.

tag(s): fluff, angst, you might cry!, wrote this while stressed and nostalgic ; wc: 1.7k

you first meet miya atsumu when you are six and he is seventeen.

(he is actually one thousand and seventeen, but you don’t know that and you never will.)

you meet him at the edge of a clearing–– the only open space you’ve discovered in the miles of forest you’ve lost yourself in. it was right behind grandmother’s house and just beckoning for you to come take a look, so it’s not really your fault you lost your way. that’s what you told him.

the boy’s a little strange-looking. his hair is whitish-gold–– a shade you’ve never seen on any human–– and he wears a mask that makes him look like a fox. bluntly, you ask if he’s a ghost. even worse, you try to poke him to see if you’re right.

he laughs while dodging it and says no, but warns you that if you touch him he’ll disappear forever. and then he makes you grab the other end of a stick and leads you right out of the forest back to your grandmother’s house, letting out a noise of agreement every now and then as you tell him about yourself, that you’re here for the summer, that you’re currently in first grade at a school in tokyo, that you’re friends with a boy called shouyou, that you––

“wait, mister!” you call out just as his body starts to disappear back into the woods. “what’s your name?”

he pauses.

“atsumu,” he says over his shoulder. “don’t wear it out, kid.” and then he chuckles to himself–– a little sadly, since you were pretty entertaining to have around–– because he knows he won’t hear it from you ever again.

he’s proven wrong (and happily so, because he’s just a kid himself and it gets lonely in the forest) when you show up at the temple where he lives the very next afternoon.

and the next.

after that, you spend every summer running through the forest with a human-looking spirit boy and a stick between your hands.

and then you turn twelve and move to the states. the summers in the forest are pushed to the back of your mind.

(the boy isn’t.)

loneliness takes your place beside atsumu for four summers.

you meet again when you are sixteen and he is seventeen.

he can hardly believe it when he sees who you’ve become: a stunning young woman with a smile like the sun. it’s a welcome sight; he’s seen a few too many cloudy days.

“you’re back,” he blurts, eyes wide in surprise. quickly, he gets up from the patch of grass he’d been laying on and–– and... he thinks this is the appropriate moment humans hug. when their feelings are so strong that their bodies move for them. but miya atsumu is not human and he’ll die if he touches one. so he keeps his arms by his sides.

(they still twitch, though.)

you rest your hands on your hips and roll your eyes. “no, this is my apparition speaking to you.”

atsumu grins. that biting sense of humour you’d brought to him as a child had only grown sharper. you’re you, but better. he sits back down on the grass and pats the space beside him.

and like that, you fall back into pace. you tell him about what happened in the years you were gone, the friends you made at school, the things you learned. what america looks like.

you say you missed him.

yearning slowly washes over his amber eyes. for what, he isn’t sure.

“you’re lucky you get to leave,” he sighs, leaning back on his arms. he stares up at the patch of sky formed by the treetops. actually, you’re lucky in many other ways. atsumu’s gaze falls onto your hands.

frowning, you bring your knees up to your chest. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t worry about it.” he offers you a small smile. “guess you just gotta bring the world to me, then.”

when he walks you home that evening, you promise you’ll show him every part of the world, no matter how long it takes you.

(he hopes it takes you a long time. he hopes it takes you forever.)

atsumu is sleeping when you show up in the clearing the next day. he lies on grass with his hands folded over his stomach and the fox mask you’ve never seen him without tossed carelessly beside his head.

and he’s beautiful.

your breath hitches in your throat as you tiptoe closer, admiring his slightly upturned nose, pale pink lips, thick, curled lashes, honey tinted skin.

you want to touch him.

suddenly, one of his eyes cracks open.

“hello,” he drawls. the corner of his mouth curls up in a mischievous smile. yelping in surprise, you jump back with a hand to your chest.

“did you plan that?” you ask, eyes still wide from the shock.

he doesn’t reply but the laugh that leaves his lips is an answer enough. you look at the fox mask on the grass. a strange sort of curiosity seeps into your thoughts. it’s so much of who atsumu is. surely it contains some of his essence. the urge to hold it causes your fingers to twitch.

atsumu follows your gaze and picks up the mask. “wanna try it on?” he offers, gingerly holding it out in front of you.

it doesn’t fit on you the way it does for him. but something leaps in his chest when he sees you with it.

(his chest does it again when you hand it back and he sees the faintest trace of your lip gloss where the mouth should go.)

“so,” you say, clasping your hands together. “what’re we doing today, ‘tsumu?”

the blond tells you he found a little cave by the river down south. “it’s pretty cool,” he says, a goofy grin on his face.

when you hold up that same gnarled wooden stick from years ago with a “let’s go, then” dangling off your lips, his stomach churns. atsumu realises he doesn’t want to hold that.

he wants to hold your hand.

(your lip gloss tastes like citrus and mint.)

you meet for the last time when you are both seventeen.

“you said you’ve never tasted a cheesecake, right?” you call out, setting down the bag you hauled from tokyo on the grass. it’s noon and there are hardly any shadows around, but you can’t find atsumu in the clearing.

he’s here, though. you can feel it.

“well, hello to ya, too.” atsumu jumps down from the branch he’d been sitting on. he’s happy to see you, not that you can tell.

“take your mask off, i thought we were past that,” you tease with a smile.

“do it for me,” atsumu lilts, clasping his hands behind his back, leaning forward so that your faces are just inches apart.

a flood of blood rushes through your veins.

breathing shallowly, you pinch the porcelain nose and lift it up off atsumu’s face, revealing a boyish grin underneath.

beautiful.

“hi,” he breathes, eyes twinkling.

you gulp.

seeing your frazzled state, atsumu laughs. he opens up the bag and pulls out the slice of cheesecake.

“thank you,” he says over his shoulder.

(he makes you feed him the first bite.

and then he feeds you the second.)

on your last day, he tells you that there’s a spirit festival happening at night.

“is that your way of inviting me?” you ask, noticing how he’s dressed in a dark blue yukata instead of his usual shirt and shorts this time.

“no.” from behind his back, atsumu pulls out a dazzling set of red robes. “this is.”

that evening you stroll through the spirit festival with a red cloth wrapped around your hands. he wins you a little necklace that you wear immediately at one of the game booths; you order takoyaki to share at the food stalls; and you end the night watching a puppet show.

atsumu walks you home as fireworks bloom in the dark sky.

“thank you for the night,” you hum, swinging your arms lightly.

“thank you for being my date,” atsumu replies.

instantly, you whip your head around. with a wide grin, you ask, “did you say date?”

atsumu stops in the middle of the dirt road and smiles softly at you. the pale moonlight makes his skin glow. amber eyes shine as bright as his hair. this moment feels different than any other you’ve had in your life. “i did.”

“i don’t know what it is about you,” he admits, “but i want you around me all the time. i wanna hold you. and kiss you. do things like real people do.” he chuckles awkwardly and rubs the back of his neck. “is that weird?”

“not at all,” you breathe, frozen in waiting.

“can i?” he asks. “kiss you?”

you nod.

atsumu pulls out the porcelain mask from his robe pocket and places it over your face.

and softly, his lips touch your cheek.

a warmth spreads from your heart all through your body.

“a lot of things keep us apart, don’t they?” he laughs, resting his forehead against your masked one. “but i feel like we’ll find a way to stay together.”

you open your mouth to agree, to confess that you’ve been in love with him since he found you in that forest, that you spent every summer away thinking about him, that you spend every moment of the school year thinking about him, that––

but in that moment, two kids run past atsumu and one trips over his sandals. instinctively, atsumu grabs him by the arm and hoists him back up, smiling when the kid says thank you and continues running like nothing had even happened.

but something had happened.

a strange look comes over atsumu’s face.

“‘tsumu…” you say, staring at his hand. it’s dissolving, breaking into bright blue shards and floating up into the sky.

atsumu lifts the hand up and inspects it slowly. somehow, it’s not much of a surprise. he’s never been the lucky type.

(meeting you was an exception.)

“that was a human kid, wasn’t it?” he sighs.

panic–– a cold, cruel hand–– seizes your heart. a black hole opens in your chest when you realise what this means. “atsumu, i––” love you.

atsumu cuts you off and says your name as his other hand starts flaking away.

“c’mere,” he whispers, grinning with tears in his eyes. “i can finally touch you.”

#miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagines #miya atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu angst

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kaitycole · 4 years ago

Text

chapter 3: what are friends for?

Summary: Two little friends have always desired one thing: to end up as siblings. So when the chance presented itself after a finalized divorce, who were they to decline such an opportunity to finally bring their parents together?

Pairings: Bokuto Kōtarō x f!Reader

Word Count: 3344

Warnings: Angst. Fluff. Mentions of divorce, cheating, cussing

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters portrayed in this series. Part of the @babythotshq Dearest Daddy Collab

Tags: open (send me an ask to be added!)

April 2025

Bokuto is bouncing around as he waits in the lobby at the airport. For the twentieth time in three minutes, he pulls out his phone to check the time. Of course, he had gotten to the airport earlier than he needed to, but these last two months were the longest in his life. No amount of phone calls, video chats, or text messages could compare to having Seiko there with him. It was like his life felt empty without her, an emptiness that he hadn’t felt since the day he found out he was going to be a dad.

* * July 2019

She jumped on Bo’s back, laughter ringing in his ears as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He carried her back to his apartment after spending the afternoon down at Osaka Bay; visiting the Osaka Aquarium Kaiyukan and ending the day at the Tempozan Ferris Wheel. The day was spent with fingers interlocked, heads resting on other’s shoulders and enough laughter to brighten anyone’s day. Jess made them take pictures at every booth, saying they both needed copies to remember the day; they were stuffed in the back pocket of her jeans.

Moving to Japan was the first big decision Jess had ever made without backing out. Her parents tried to dissuade her from moving so far, telling her that just changing cities would suffice; she knew it wouldn’t. Mark seemed to find his way to wherever she was, but she knew she was safe at her current distance. Plus she had Bo now and she couldn’t imagine not having him in her life.

He tapped the sides of her thighs telling her to jump off his back so he could grab his keys. She hopped off, leaning against the wall by his door. It was still a shock to her that the two of you had become so close in just nine months. It had taken her longer than that to get close to Mark, but then again there were totally different reasons with that.

Jess followed him into his one-bedroom apartment, slipping off her shoes before sitting on the couch. He excused himself to his room to quickly change; he opted to wear jeans while went out but he hates jeans. He threw on some sweatpants and a MSBY t-shirt. He smiled when he saw Jess, slightly curled up on the couch with the blanket she bought him draped across her.

Bo loved how comfortable Jess was at his place and he at hers. She looked like a natural being by his side and maybe if things had been different, if he had somehow gotten closure with you, maybe he could’ve tried with Jess. Given her a fighting chance if anything more than platonic ever arose between them. Bokuto’s own hesitation came from not waiting to even try to compete with Mark and he could almost guarantee that Jess felt the same about you.

The thought left him with a sinking feeling in his stomach, how many great individuals would end up right in front of him for him to turn away because of you? You, the love of his life. The married love of his life. Sometimes it hurt to see those around him in great relationships, having families of their own while he still held on to imaginary hope that you might be his one day.

He talked to Akaashi about it, who asked him if being just your friend was worse than potentially losing you and of course Bo frantically told him he’d stay friends forever if it meant having you in his life. He knew the former setter was sincere, after all he had been around for most of Bo’s one-sided relationship and had even been the one to encourage him to at least try back in high school.

“Wh—no!” Jess let out a sound that mixed together a gasp and a sob. He watched her pull her knees up under her chin and her body start to shake. Bo practically ran over to her, banging his knee against the coffee table in the process.

“Jess! Jess!” He sat next to her wanting to pull her into him, but something about the way she looked told him not to. He watched her chest begin to rise and fall rapidly as she choked out sobs while trying to catch her breath.

Bokuto kneeled down in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders to try to stop her trembling. He felt helpless, what could he do? How could he help? Something was hurting her, someone he cared about more than himself and he was at a loss. What felt like forever passed and Jess finally looked up to him.

“Mar…married!” She let out another sob, turning her phone so Bo could see it; it was a picture of a tall blonde man in a suite with a woman who looked very similar to Jess next to him in a white dress.

He knew the feeling that Jess felt right now; that soul crushing agony. The massive weight being dropped on you, making you feel even more inadequate than you had been. At least you married someone who looked opposite of Bo, Mark practically married Jess’s twin. He remembered feeling empty when he got your wedding invitation; crashing at Akaashi’s because his empty apartment felt like it would swallow him whole if he was there alone.

“I’m so so sorry, Jess.” He climbed up on the couch beside her, pulled her into arms and after a few moments of resisting, she let herself relax in his arms. His thumb rubbed circles on her back and he gently rocked her back and forth. He wasn’t even sure this was helping, but he didn’t know what else to do.

A few minutes passed in silence before she looked up at him, her green eyes lined with tears and her face red and blotchy. Her expression was completely broken, like a porcelain doll that had been dropped and cracked from the impact. Bokuto used to think the day he watched you get married had truly broken his heart, the day that he knew he’d never have a chance to confess his feelings, but in this moment seeing someone as lovely and pure as Jess this way; today was the day his heart actually broke.

“He wasn’t ready for a relationship but he was ready to get married. Heh.” Jess let out a humorless laugh as she wiped the tears off her cheeks.

“You’re too good for him, Jess.” Bo placed his hands on her cheeks, looking into her eyes. “I mean it, that woman couldn’t hold a candle to you in any way.”

Jess felt her cheeks heating up underneath Bo’s touch and she offered him a small smile. Part of her wondered if he had felt this destroyed and fragile when you got engaged, got married and he had to watch. How selfish could people be? Jess wanted to believe that you were ignorant to Bo’s feelings, but she found that hard to believe with how straightforward he could be. Her eyesight was still blurry from her tears and her head was throbbing, but she wasn’t completely unaware of what her next move was.

In a blur, Jess’s lips crashed into Bo’s unsuspected lips. He was stunned at first, it wasn’t like he’d never kissed anyone before but certainly not Jess. When she pulled away, Bo thought his heart had stopped, she was looking at him, biting her bottom lip.

“Jess, you’re upset.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want…I’d hate for you to do something you’d regret or that would hurt you.”

“Bo.” She looked at him, her eyes pleading with him; begging him for a closeness only he could give her in this moment. Fresh tears filled her eyes, “Please.”

It took three heartbeats for him to react to her words. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her onto his lap, his lips pressing into hers. Her arms wrapped around his neck as his tongue slipped between her lips causing her to deepen the kiss.

The smell of sandalwood washed over her as peonies and vanilla filled Bo’s senses. He pulled away just long enough to place his lips on her jaw before kissing along her jawline, traveling down her neck. She stopped breathing, shuddering against his chest as a knot tightened in her lower stomach. She unwrapped her arms from his neck, intertwining her fingers in his hair and pulling it slightly.

He let out a hiss between his teeth, his breath danced across her shoulder. She trailed a hand down his chest, her fingers slipped under the bottom of his t-shirt. His skin heated up as her fingers ran across his firm abs, he pulled back from her. His eyes met hers and after she nodded, Bokuto swiftly stood up with her legs wrapped around him before carrying her down the hall; he kicked the bedroom door shut with his heel.

* * October 2019

Jess found herself having trouble lifting her hand to knock on the door. It’d been a year since she met Bokuto and he had become her best friend; maybe that’s why this was so hard. There’s an uneasy feeling in her stomach, a lump in her throat as she let out another deep breath. She could do this, she was an adult and adults face their problems head on. Suddenly though, Jess doesn’t want to be an adult and part of her wants to go back to being five years old when her biggest problem was which crayon to use.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Before the door opened, Jess chickened out and started walking back towards the staircase. She couldn’t do this, she’d come back and tell him another day.

“Jess?”

She squeezed her eyes shut breathing harshly out of her nose. When she turned around, she saw a confused Bo; her heart sank. How could she do this? She couldn’t and of course the one time she hoped he wouldn’t be home, he was.

She heard him call out for her again before she turned around. She walked slowly over to him then headed into his apartment. He immediately picked up on her demeanor, offering her various snacks and drinks; trying to make her comfortable.

She mumbled something causing Bo to kneel in front of her, asking her to repeat herself. Her green eyes met his golden ones and she knew this was it. That once she said it out loud, once he learned of her secret, everything would permanently change.

“I’m pregnant.” She bit her bottom lip, a wave of nausea hitting her and it wasn’t from the baby.

Bokuto, over time, had become slightly predictable to Jess. He was loud and tended to invade one’s personal space without warning and that’s the Bo Jess knew well. But this Bo, the one who was silent, who had scooted back from her and had a blank expression on his face was new to Jess.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” The huge smile that appeared on his face threw her for a loop. “This is the greatest news anyone’s ever told me.”

“You aren’t mad?”

“Mad? Why would I be mad?” He jumped to his feet, fingers running through his hair, with the same huge smile plastered on his face. “I’m gonna be a dad!”

Jess felt herself laugh, the anxiety, fear, dread all disappeared and left her wondering why she was even worried to begin with. This was Bo after all and if she could do this with anyone it would be Bo.

“You’re gonna be a dad, Bo.”

“And you, a mom.”

She gasped as Bo scooped her off the couch, spinning her around. He quickly sat her feet to the ground before she saw him drop to one knee. “Jess, marry me.”

“I’m sorry, what?” She grabbed his hands. “Stand up.”

“I mean it Jess. Marry me.” He shook his head, “I know this isn’t proper, but I love you and want to do what’s right for you and the baby.”

She smiled at her favorite person, squatting down to be eye level with him. “Bo, I love you and love that you’d offer, but we don’t love each other in that way.”

“But we could try.” A pout covered his face, hair slightly deflated.

She shook her head, “You know it doesn’t work that way. I don’t love you in the way I love Mark and you don’t love me like you love Y/N. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He pulled her into his chest, “I just don’t want to mess anything up, I don’t want to lose you either.”

“Lose me? Sir you are stuck with me forever now.” She felt him laugh against her shoulder. “We’ll figure things out as we go, I promise.”

“I’m gonna be a dad.” Tears fell down his face, a new type of happiness washed over him. “I have to call Akaashi.”

* * April 2025

The loud sound of the airport intercom brings Bokuto back to the present, looking up and his eyes land on Jess. He smiles when his eyes land on the little brunette who is proudly pulling her suitcase behind her. Bo squats down when the pair of them get closer to him, his face twists into confusion when Seiko stops walking.

She passes her suitcase handle to Jess before throwing her arms opening, “HEY! HEY! HEY!”

Bo’s face lights up as she rushes into his arms; he wraps his arms around her, picking her up, and spinning her around. He kisses her forehead, squeezing her tightly until she burst into a fit of giggles, trying to make up for the last two months. Jess smiles at the display, watching the two of them together was Jess’s favorite sight.

“Was that your idea?” Bo says to Jess, readjusting Seiko to rest on his left hip as his right-hand grabs Jess’ suitcase.

Jess just smirks as they walk out of the airport. Seiko’s arms wrapped tightly around his neck, unwilling to let go of her dad. Seiko loves her mom, she enjoyed spending time with her and her grandparents in California, but Seiko is a daddy’s girl.

** Seiko has all of her gifts on the coffee table, Bo looks at Jess who just holds her hands up in defense. Seiko is extremely hard to say no to, at least for Jess, Bo on the other hand claims to have invented the pouty look so he’s immune to Seiko’s antics.

“These are for Haruki! I got him a book about California, this tie-dye shirt and these gross jelly beans!”

“Gross jelly beans?” Bo looks directly at Jess who is laughing.

“They are odd flavored; booger, dog food, and others.”

“Anyways!” Seiko shouts, “I got Uncle ‘Kaashi this fancy pen and Misaki a matching tie-dye shirt to mine!”

“I’m sure they will love them!” Bo says excitedly, he leans back in his chair, welcoming the noise that fills his apartment; he’s missed it.

Seiko grabs a wrapped box she’s been hiding, handing it to Bo. “This is for you Daddy.”

Bo eagerly takes the box and unwraps it, Seiko is bouncing up and down as he starts to open it.

“Do you like your shirt, Daddy?” She beams at him, her eyes wide like a kid on Christmas morning.

Bo raises an eyebrow and Seiko immediately slaps her hand over her mouth. He smiles at her before removing the tissue paper and pulling out the shirt Seiko just told him about. He holds up a light blue shirt that has an owl with the words ‘papa owl’ underneath it.

“I love it!” He watches Seiko hold up her finger before running to her room.

“She’s really excited about this.” Jess says to him, sipping her tea.

Seiko comes rushing back into the living room, having changed her shirt to a matching one to Bo’s with the words ‘baby Owl’ on hers. “They match Daddy!”

“They sure do!”

“And this is yours too!” She hands him a small gift bag, but this time she acts shy about it. Bo pulls her into his lap and opens it. It’s a keychain with a picture of her on it, she holds up one of that has a picture of Jess on one side and him on the other. “For when you have a game away from home. So you don’t forget me.”

He wraps her into a hug, “I couldn’t forget about you even if I tried.”

* * October 2025

“Coming! Coming!” Bo shouts at the frantic knocking on his door, he looks at the clock on the wall: 10:15PM.

“I know it’s late. I should’ve called.” You start talking a mile a minute as soon as the door opens, your son leaning against your leg half asleep. “Can you watch Ruki?”

He blinks a few times, trying to wake up himself. “Yeah, sure, come in.”

You and Haruki enter into his apartment; Seiko comes around the corner, the noise having woke her up; tightly clinging to her favorite blanket. Seiko drags her feet towards Haruki, she takes his hand and they both walk over the couch. He rests his head on the arm of the couch as Seiko drapes her blanket over him.

“What’s going on?” Bo asks, still looking at you in confusion, reaching out to put a comforting hand on your arm.

You look around before stepping closer to Bo, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Youta came home late, drunk, and yelling. I’d just rather Haruki not be around for that.”

Bo’s jaw clenches, in all honesty he’s never thought Youta was good enough for you. Not because he has feelings for you, but if you had to be with someone else he’d at least want it to be someone who deserved you.

“Of course, he can stay here. Maybe you should stay too.” He shrugs, “at least until tomorrow.”

You shake your head, biting your bottom lip. “I think it’s best if I handle this now. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way back.”

“He can stay the night. I’m sure Seiko would love it.”

The two of you glance over at the couch, Seiko and Haruki huddled together, barely covered by Seiko’s baby blanket. It had been a gift from Akaashi, a simple blanket with owls on it and even as she gets older, the blanket follows her; Bo has to take it and wash it while she sleeps.

You look at him, nervously looking at the clock. “Are you sure? I’ll come back first thing in the morning so he doesn’t mess up any plans.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “Take your time. He’s fine here. I promise.”

“Thank you.” You wrap your arms around him, giving him a hug before placing a quick kiss on his cheek. Smiling up at him, you feel thankful for him, for everything that he’s been doing for you since the locker mix up; he truly is your best friend.

“No worries. That’s what family does, right?”

You nod at him as you quickly rush over, placing a kiss on Haruki’s forehead before leaving. Bo lets out a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair before heading down the hall. He grabs the extra futon from the hall closet, setting it up in Seiko’s room. Going back to the living room, he scoops up Seiko first, tucking her into her bed, but when he heads back into the living room, Haruki is sitting up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.’

“Uncle Bo?”

“Yeah buddy?” He stretches his arms out for Haruki to climb into them so he could carry him. He rests his head on Bo’s shoulder, his voice lagging from the sleep setting back in.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, what’s up?” Haruki climbs onto the futon, Bo pulling the blanket up.

“What’s a divorce?”

Previous/ Masterlist /Next

#bokuto kotaro #bokuto x reader #bbthots collab #dearest daddy series

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enterprisetrampstamp · 3 years ago

Note

General #42 t'pura plssss <3

I have written so many "bustling marketplaces" lately. I think it's projection; deep in my subconscious my ideal self is at a weird little booth on King St in Charleston poking through sterling silver jewelry and touching the pavement every thirty seconds to make sure the dogs' paws are okay.

(AO3 Link)

***

The market was bustling and vibrant, a cacophony of sounds and sights and scents as vendors hawked their wares and the savvy populace argued back. The streets were wider and less claustrophobic than Nyota was used to, the sky above lit brightly by pale binary suns instead of the singular pulse of Sol, but it still put her in mind of the market her family had frequented when she was younger. For their everyday needs, her parents had shopped at the usual grocery stores and department stores and corner markets among the glittering skyscrapers and bustling streets of Nairobi, but once a month her mother would pack Nyota and her sisters into the car and take them down to the open air market that sprawled across several city blocks on the outskirts of the city, where fresher produce and more unique items could be found.

Besides, it was fun.

Nyota and her sisters would buy fruity popsicles and play tag; as they grew older, they might haggle over jewelry and scarves and that perfect trinket for their father's birthday or a sister's graduation. Her fascination with language could be traced back to those afternoons in the market as much as anything else, listening to hundreds of voices arguing in nearly as many dialects-- Swahili, English, and Standard, of course, but Dholuo and Kamba and Somali and the voices of all of Kenya's other indigenous peoples, too. Hundreds of voices, loud and unapologetic and alive as they pushed and shoved their way through life. Nyota had had her first date at that market, with a boy who lived down the hall-- and, later, she'd shared her first kiss there... with his older sister.

Oops.

Nyota grinned at the memory, hitching her bag higher into the crook of her elbow, and trailed her hand through a selection of beautifully intricate scarves hanging from a delicate display made of thin, curving pieces of brass. Janice's birthday was coming up, she noted thoughtfully. The bright purple one was very much the yeoman's speed, embroidered with silver thread in a dizzying geometric pattern. She pulled it from the rack, running it thoughtfully between her fingers as the sun-- the suns, she corrected herself with a snort-- beat down on the back of her neck.

"This one will better highlight the undertones of your skin," a woman said, her voice light and warm and catching on the soft Standard consonants.

It was the accent that caught Nyota's attention; that unmistakable curl of a native Vulcan speaker in the way she pronounced the thorn at the start of "this." She looked up as the woman draped a scarf-- silky and deep red, decorated in a delicate swirl of tiny golden beads-- about Nyota's neck and trailed one end back over her shoulder, her long, gloved fingers carefully avoiding the brush of bare skin.

(Somehow, that half-centimeter's implication of a touch was more sensual than if she'd truly trailed her fingertips along the line of Nyota's shoulder.)

"It's beautiful," Nyota agreed honestly, because it was. She raked her gaze over her new friend, resisting the urge to raise an eyebrow. The Vulcan woman was tall, dressed in a romper with loose, flowing pants that tapered back to her ankles to tuck into simple leather (faux, presumably) boots and a stiff vest that shimmered subtly beneath the sunlight, reaching high up her throat but leaving her lightly freckled shoulders bare. All of it, from head to toe and including her gloves, was rendered in a deep, eyecatching purple. Her hair was braided simply and fell heavily over her right shoulder, thick and so darkly black that the sunlight turned it faintly blue. The leather tie at its end was that same, vibrant purple.

(A cosmopolitan Vulcan woman, Nyota supposed. It was a far cry from the robes and elaborate hairstyles Nyota was used to seeing, but then she usually saw the diplomats and the Council members-- women dressed formally and in pointed representation of their culture.)

"But," Nyota added, placing a delicate emphasis on the word as she unwound the scarf and returned it to its place on the rack, "I'm not shopping for myself."

"Pity," the woman said, her dark eyes likewise sweeping over Nyota. (She, for the record, was dressed comparatively simply in a blue dress and ankle boots.) "It did look good on you."

Nyota leaned towards her as if confessing a secret, a smile pulling teasingly at one corner of her lips. "Everything looks good on me." One slanted eyebrow twitched high on the Vulcan's forehead, and Nyota laughed, straightening, and lifted her hand in the ta'al. "Dif-tor heh smusma, my new friend."

"Peace and long life," the woman returned in Standard, flashing her own-- purple gloved-- ta'al and lifting her other eyebrow to join the first. "Your accent is very good."

"Well, if it wasn't I'd probably be out of a job," Nyota replied easily. She watched the Vulcan in her periphery as she decided against the purple scarf for Janice-- the yeoman could be finicky about clothing and would probably rather Nyota pick her up some tourist-y magnet that would be wildly embarrassing to have to purchase-- and debated an emerald green for Christine instead. (Her birthday wasn't coming up, but it never hurt to be thinking ahead.)

"You are employed as a translator?" the Vulcan guessed, picking at the scarves herself. The motion seemed less like she was interested in them, and more as if it was an excuse to keep talking to Nyota.

"Sometimes." Chris would love it, she decided. She half-turned towards the vendor, lifting the scarf, and had started to ask "How much--?" when she caught a glimpse of the scarf that had been hidden underneath it. With a laugh, she traded the green scarf for the new one and turned back to the Vulcan, holding it up consideringly.

"It's your favorite color," she said, too many teeth in her grin.

"Having a preference for a particular color would be illogical," the Vulcan returned archly, but there was something in her voice, some teasing irreverence hiding beneath the lack of inflection, as she plucked the scarf from Nyota's hand and held it against her chest to compare the shades of purple.

"Too red," she said, her gaze flicking up to meet Nyota's as she raised an eyebrow.

Nyota scoffed. "Oh, please."

A tiny, almost imperceptible corner of the woman's mouth twitched in a smirk. "Your disbelief will not change the fact that the scarf is too red."

"Those Vulcan eyes of yours must be missing some rods and cones. It's a perfect match," Nyota insisted, reaching out to drape the scarf about the woman's shoulders-- the motion pulled them close, each of her hands wrapped loosely in silky fabric, and she smirked up at the Vulcan as she took another, deliberate step forward.

"Are you flirting with me?" the Vulcan asked, amusement smoldering in her dark eyes. They stood so near that, had they each taken a deep breath in, Nyota's hands would be trapped between them.

"You started it," Nyota pointed out, teasing, as she unwound her hands from the scarf. "And I'm feeling nostalgic this morning," she declared, fondness curving her lips into a smile, "for a different dark haired beauty I flirted with in a market not so different from this one, once upon a time."

"Vulcans do not flirt."

Nyota's grin spread wider. "Now that I know from experience is a lie."

"Vulcans do not lie either," the woman said, and there was that self-aware edge of irony once again-- Nyota didn't even feel like she was insulting her when she tipped her head back and laughed.

"Oh, sure," she said, flashing a few credits at the vendor and receiving a word of confirmation as she plucked the green scarf back off of the rack. "Vulcans don't lie, as a generality." She handed the credits to the vendor, glancing over her shoulder to add, tartly, "That doesn't mean they can't, or that Vulcans in the individual won't."

There was that little twitch of a smirk again.

"A wise woman," the Vulcan observed, falling into step next to her as she tucked Christine's present into her bag and walked away from the booth. "I hope, when you are not engaged as a translator, that you make use of your skills as a counselor-- or perhaps a bartender."

Nyota barked another laugh, shooting her a grin. "I do mix a mean martini," she agreed.

"Metaphors," the Vulcan sighed. She spread her hands in a shrug, the movement loose and fluid. "I have never understood what qualifies a drink as 'mean.'"

"Usually it's because it insulted your mother," Nyota told her, straight-faced, and was rewarded with a rise and fall of the Vulcan's chest that she chose to interpret as a silent sigh of exasperation.

"So what do you do?" Nyota asked, as she paused to peer at a display of sterling silver jewelry, bedazzled with a variety of inexpensive-- but beautiful-- gemstones, most of them imported from the other side of the galaxy. Spock probably could have told her exactly where with a single glance, and the thought made a smile tug at the corner of her lips. Her hair slipped over her shoulder, falling in a soft brown wave, and she reached up to brush it back as she looked.

The Vulcan spun a rack of earrings, sharp enough to make it rattle, and the artisan behind the booth barked out a remonstration in her own native tongue. Then, she repeated it under her breath in Vulcan-- pointedly, loud enough for both Nyota and the Vulcan to hear it-- as she returned to her soldering.

With a slow blink, like a cat reaching out to shove a mug off of a coffee table, the Vulcan spun the rack a second time. "I am employed as a record keeper aboard a small civilian spacecraft," she said, staring down the scowling artisan.

Nyota looked up, her interest piqued. "You mean you live out here in the black?" she asked, surprise sharpening her tone. So few Vulcans lived or even worked away from New Vulcan for any extensive period these days, in deference to their ongoing efforts of cultural revival.

She hadn't realized quite how open the woman's expression was-- for a Vulcan-- until it shuttered. "I do," she said, neither her tone nor her body language inviting further questions.

Nyota thought of the way Spock still, all these years later, could not think of New Vulcan as anything more than a pale imitation of a home he would never replace, and she gently eased off. It had been an intrusive line of questioning, anyway.

"What do you think?" she asked instead, pointing to a necklace with a delicate silver charm with a soft pink stone at its center.

The Vulcan leaned closer, her shoulder pressing against Nyota's, warm and solidly muscled. Her hair smelled faintly of orange blossoms and incense, and there was a hint of that prior teasing tone in her voice as she observed, "I have been told that everything looks good on you."

Nyota smiled, turning to look at her. "And how," she agreed. "But I told you, I'm not shopping for me."

"Of course." The Vulcan looked over as well, her dark eyes studying her with a heady intensity and the strong curve of her nose nearly brushing Nyota's. "May I?" she asked, and the slight tilt of her head, the imperceptible lean forward indicated the meaning of the question.

The artisan made an inarticulate noise of fury, but they both ignored her.

"I don't even know your name," Nyota teased, even as she closed the distance between them to press a featherlight kiss to the other woman's lips.

(Oh, don't look at her like that; like you wouldn't kiss the mysterious, clever stranger who's been flirting with you all morning. There was something a little fun and a little daring about it, and in a few hours she'd say goodbye and head back to the ship. Maybe they'd exchange comm frequencies; maybe not. They call them whirlwind romances for a reason, you know.)

"T'Pring," the Vulcan murmured, their lips still brushing.

"Nyota." She returned to the array of jewelry, a crooked grin turning up one corner of her lips. "Dated humans before, have you? That was no first kiss, darling."

"Well, there are just so many of you," T'Pring returned, with that remarkable Vulcan ability to both maintain perfect stoicism and also come across dryly sarcastic. "And you have dated a Vulcan before, have you not? Your ability to maintain a mental shield against touch telepathy is impressive for a human." A beat. "'Darling.'"

Nyota barked a laugh. "Yes, I have." She patted T'Pring's cheek, winking. "Don't worry; you're prettier than he is."

T'Pring raised one slanted eyebrow, conveying amusement without ostensibly altering her expression. "I find myself much assured."

Nyota caught her wrist-- careful to stay below the edge of her glove, avoiding skin-to-skin contact so she wouldn't need to maintain that mental shield-- to tug her back into motion. "Lunch," she suggested.

T'Pring allowed herself to be pulled along in Nyota's wake without complaint. "One of my crewmates tells me there is a bakery with excellent savory pastries on the next street over."

"Mm, I heard about that place, too." Her smile was pleased as she looked over her shoulder at T'Pring. One of Hikaru's husband's friends had raved about it; the whole bridge crew had been looking forward to it for weeks.

"A satisfactory choice, then?" T'Pring asked, with a raised eyebrow, and Nyota laughed.

"Most satisfactory," she agreed, tone teasing.

Once their pastries were in hand-- a spicy, aromatic beef filling in Nyota's, and a potato and vegetable one in T'Pring's-- they ignored the tables arranged outside of the bakery in favor of tucking themselves into a semi-private alcove. Nyota hopped up onto the low stone wall separating an earthy, plant-filled garden space from the rest of the market, and T'Pring propped her hip against it. She removed one of her gloves, tucking it into a pocket of her pants, and picked thoughtfully at the pastry with dark-eyed curiosity.

"Reminds me of an empanada," Nyota said, inhaling the fragrant steam rising off of her choice, and T'Pring huffed, ever so slightly.

"'The closest you will get to decent food in this corner of the galaxy,'" she said, pitching her voice to a deeper octave in a way which implied it was an impression. "My crewmate hails from Chile," she added, as an explanation. "As the pilot of our ship, I do not believe he intended to allow us to skip this planet once our path turned us in this direction, regardless of our captain's acquiescence."

Nyota laughed, tipping her head back. She didn't miss T'Pring's thoughtful, appreciative glance. "A man after my own heart," she declared. "Food is a unifying experience. There's nothing quite like it--" she gestured, a piece of pastry in hand, between herself and T'Pring. "It says, 'I care about you,' and it says, 'I want you to survive,' and it says, 'I want you to enjoy it, too. Share this with me.'"

"The exchange of fruit is an inherently romantic gesture within Vulcan culture," T'Pring agreed. "And the act of sharing a meal has proven an invaluable ritual in building a rapport with my human crewmates."

"Is that what we're doing?" Nyota asked. She set one hand on the stone between them, leaning towards T'Pring as she is watched by dark eyes that glitter with the barest hint of amusement. "'Building a rapport?'"

"How would you describe it?" T'Pring challenged in turn.

A smile spread, slowly, across Nyota's face. "A date," she said.

"And how would you describe what happens between two people on a date?" T'Pring raised an eyebrow.

"Which part of the date are we talking about?" Nyota asked, her smile impish, and T'Pring's other eyebrow raised in turn.

"That was an innuendo," she observed.

"And not a subtle one." Nyota patted her cheek, forgoing any attempt at mental shielding in favor of letting T'Pring feel the full brunt of her amusement. She sensed more than felt the moment that T'Pring tensed, attempting to subjugate whatever emotional response-- laughter, lust-- she was experiencing, and she backed off politely, both physically and conversationally.

They lapsed into a companionable silence as they finished their meal. The spices were certainly alien, unfamiliar and sharp but not at all unpleasant, and there was a buttery quality to the bread itself that was-- in a word-- heavenly. Nyota crumpled the waxy paper her pastry had been wrapped in, sighing with satisfaction, and accepted the napkin that T'Pring passed her to wipe off her fingers.

"Can I ask you a question?" she said, glancing up from the slick buttery feeling between her fingers, and promptly rolled her eyes at the tiny smirk T'Pring had turned in her direction. "Yes, I am aware I have just asked one. Spare me."

"As long as you are aware," T'Pring said.

"Spare me."

After a moment in which she somehow broadcast her amusement in just the slightest smirk and the tightness of the muscles at the corners of her eyes, T'Pring requested, "Make your inquiry, by all means." She pulled her glove back on, her own fingers wiped clean, and then turned to face Nyota more directly. Her expression was polite, inquisitive.

"Why did you approach me in the first place?" Nyota asked. She dropped her legs from their folded position, sliding down to stand beside T'Pring and brushing off the back of her skirt. This put her a head lower, once more, but she didn't mind the way she had to tip her head back to meet the Vulcan's heavy lidded eyes. "You don't need to tell me that it's unusual for one of your people to make such an overt overture."

T'Pring tipped her head lightly to the side in acknowledgement of the point. "I wanted to. You are beautiful," she said, and the simple, matter-of-fact manner of the statement was more flattering than any purple prose. Nyota ghosted her fingertips down the inside of T'Pring's forearm, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and T'Pring's dark eyes flicked, briefly down to her lips. "I saw no need to deprive myself of the opportunity to speak with you; it is not as if I seek a sustained liaison. My ship departs later this afternoon."

"Mine, too," Nyota agreed.

T'Pring blinked. She had probably assumed Nyota was employed on-planet, as few ships bothered to employ a living translator, when universal translation technology is so ubiquitous. Only diplomatic ships-- seeking to impress and flatter-- or Starfleet exploratory vessels-- likely to come across unknown species-- had enough need for a xenolinguist. But she evidently decided to file the information for later discussion, blinking again and then returning to their current topic.

"That I stayed to talk further is a factor of your intelligence and humor," she said. "You are... intriguing."

"Some have said, 'Fascinating,'" Nyota said, with no small hint of irony, and then she offered, "You are a distinctly interesting woman yourself, T'Pring of Vulcan."

T'Pring inclined her head in a nod. "High praise."

"For a deserving specimen," Nyota quipped, reaching out to tap her index finger against the tip of T'Pring's nose-- and promptly threw her head back, laughing, at the disgruntled expression of shock which the action earns her.

"Most illogical," T'Pring said, obviously fumbling for a response as she took a hasty step backwards, and Nyota gathered their trash to dump in a nearby wastebin as she hooked her bag up onto her shoulder.

"Well, I am a human, after all." She shot T'Pring a look over her shoulder, grinning. "Are you coming?"

"One moment--"

T'Pring caught her wrist, pulling her back into the relative privacy behind the corner of the building. When Nyota shifted to face her, T'Pring's fingertips-- the leather of her gloves supple and warm-- tipped her chin back and leaned down to kiss her again. This one was deeper, longer; Nyota hooked her elbow about T'Pring's neck for leverage and pushed herself onto her toes.

"Wow," she said, dazed, as T'Pring drew away.

"Mm." There was self-satisfied amusement in those dark eyes. One of T'Pring's hands had found its way to Nyota's hips, and it was warm and strong.

"You're a weird Vulcan," Nyota told her, still slightly breathless, and T'Pring shrugged. Somehow, that simple motion carried a great deal of the unspoken.

"I consider myself a singularly driven individual," she said, dry like desert sands.

"You see what you want; you go after it."

"It can be difficult not to gain a certain perspective." It wasn't a complete thought, though T'Pring voiced it as if it was.

Unfortunately, Nyota could fill in the rest. Trauma changed things; the trauma of losing nearly your entire people could change a lot of things. (Not to mention, she'd clearly spent much of the intervening years processing that trauma amongst humans.) She brushed a thumb over T'Pring's cheek, fighting down the sympathetic words that she could tell the Vulcan didn't want to hear, and settled down off of her toes. "Coming?" she asked, again.

T'Pring tucked her hands into her pockets, posture loose and casual as she fell into step next to her. "Where do you wish to go?"

"I-- Oh!" Nyota caught a glimpse of blonde through the crowd, taking a winding path towards the bakery, and quickly waved a hand. "Jim!" she called.

He spotted her, too, and his face broke out in a wide smile. He held up a finger, turning to smack the arm of a dark-haired man next to him, and Nyota may not have been able to hear Dr. McCoy's response, but she could guess at it by the scowl he turned towards their captain, gesturing to the stain of water down his jeans where Jim's attempt to get his attention had made him nearly drop his water bottle.

"Friends of mine," Nyota told T'Pring as she pushed through the crowd towards her crewmates and Jim led the way to meet her in the middle.

"Nyota!" Jim cried, throwing his arms wide.

"Oh," Leonard said, "finally, some sanity on this damn shore leave--"

"What, is Spock not enough for you?" Nyota demanded, as she let Jim sweep her up and spin her around in a hug-- thereby missing the way T'Pring snapped straight, her eyes widening.

"Spock?" she repeated, loudly, and the man in question looked up from a booth of antique astronomical devices which had previously held his attention.

"T'Pring," he said, with similar wide-eyed shock, nearly fumbling the astrolabe in his hands.

"You know each other?" Nyota asked, her eyebrows shooting high as she takes in the uncharacteristic uncertainty in Spock's movements, and she exchanges a look with Leonard.

The Vulcans both ignored her--or, perhaps more accurately, neither of them heard her.

T'Pring recovered first. "You look well," she said, somehow awkward with her impossibly straight posture.

"As do you," Spock said, something indefinable in his tone, "considering I was under the impression you were dead."

Leonard choked on an ill-timed sip of water, and Nyota had a sudden, horrible thought about the childhood friend turned betrothed who Spock had broken his Bond with just prior to absconding to Starfleet. "Oh, god," she said, covering her eyes with one hand.

T'Pring considered Spock's statement for a moment. "My apologies," she said, finally, and Spock's stoic expression broke in favor of something murderous.

He took several stiff-legged steps towards her, catching her elbow and drawing her off to the side so that they could engage in a hushed, incredibly blank-faced argument. Jim watched with bright, delighted eyes, and Leonard squinted over towards Nyota.

"You know who she is?" he asked, gesturing towards them with the hand holding his water bottle.

"I have a guess," Nyota hedged. She folded one arm over her chest, tucking one hand into her elbow as she pressed her mouth against the knuckles of the other. "He never mentioned her name, so it's difficult to say."

"Exes," Jim said. He tilted his head towards them, clearly trying to catch what they were saying beneath the din of the marketplace. "Gotta be exes."

Leonard was still giving her that side-eye. "Nyota," he said, slowly, studying the expression on her face as she watched Spock say something that made T'Pring close her eyes and reach up to rest her hand on his shoulder, squeezing. "Were you on a date with your ex-boyfriend's ex-girlfriend?"

She breathed in. She breathed out. "Worse," she told him, grimly. "I'm pretty sure I'm on a date with my ex-boyfriend's ex-wife."

"Spock was married?!" Jim yelped, as Leonard did an actual, literal spit take.

Spock and T'Pring both snapped up to look over at them; Spock looked pained and T'Pring simply raised her eyebrows. She looked back at Spock. "You did not tell them?"

"I told Nyota," he said, voice tight.

"A name would have been great, though," Nyota muttered, and T'Pring looked back and forth between them.

"I see," she said, clearly making a swift, accurate leap of logic. "Your taste in women remains impeccable."

Nyota burst into hysterical laughter, for lack of anything better to say. She buried her face into her hands and felt Jim's shoulders shaking with his own sublimated laughter as he slung his arm over her shoulders. "Now, his taste in men," he said, joking, and Leonard snorted.

"Speak for yourself," he declared. He laid the Southern charm on thick as he stepped towards T'Pring, extending his hand for her to shake. "Leonard McCoy, ma'am. It's a pleasure to meet an old friend of Spock's."

"Experience with humans tells me you're simply hoping for embarrassing stories from our youth," T'Pring observed, but she shook his hand with the slightest hint of a smile hiding in the corners of her eyes.

"Who wouldn't?" Leonard countered, grinning, as Spock looked at him, drawing an air of exasperation about himself with just a twitch of his mouth.

"Perhaps another time," T'Pring said, with impeccable grace. She glanced, briefly, towards Spock, but after a moment of hesitation she stepped away and turned her attention towards Jim. "And you are..."

"James Tiberius Kirk," he declared. He extended a hand, but when T'Pring reached out to shake it like she had Leonard's, he switched his grip and dipped into a bow to brush his lips against her gloved knuckles.

T'Pring looked at Spock, who shrugged.

"Ignore him," Leonard said, dryly.

"I intended to," T'Pring informed him, and Leonard barked a laugh as Jim staggered with faux insult.

"Why do Vulcans always dislike me when we first meet?" he complained, throwing himself against Spock's side and draping an arm over his eyes dramatically.

Spock clearly made the decision to let the theatrics break the tension of the moment the way Jim had calculated them to. "Your personality," he said, quite frankly.

"It's why most humans dislike you, too," Leonard added, and he caught both Jim and Spock by the elbow, jerking his head towards the bakery. "C'mon, morons; lunch. Let's let the ladies get on with things, shall we?" He winked at Nyota as he nudged his partners into motion.

T'Pring watched them, quiet with her hands folded tightly behind her back, and Nyota drifted back towards her. "I can give you the necessary information to contact him later," she offered softly. "I'm sure you didn't cover everything in just a couple of minutes."

"That would be..." T'Pring breathed out. "Appreciated."

"Sure," Nyota said. She cleared her throat, glancing aside. "I could also give you the necessary information to contact me."

T'Pring looked at her, her eyes dark and thoughtful. "That would also be appreciated," she said.

"Yeah?" Nyota asked, a smirk curving her lips as she tipped her chin back to meet those heavy-lidded eyes. "Intriguing enough to speak with again, am I?"

"Perhaps I am just hoping for more recent embarrassing stories of Spock."

Nyota laughed, ducking her head. "Well, I certainly have plenty of those," she said, dryly, and caught T'Pring's wrist once more. "Want to keep developing our rapport?" she asked, with a twitch of her lips.

T'Pring hummed. "I believe there is a booth nearby selling citrus fruit," she said thoughtfully.

"The inherent romanticism of sharing an orange," Nyota agreed, letting herself be drawn into motion, and T'Pring smirked but did not disagree.

#a tramp stamp original #nyota uhura #t'pring #t'pura #femslash #I wrote this #and less importantly:#spock #jim kirk #leonard mccoy #this is like. an au meeting for them from a longfic I'm working on #but I think I've done enough to make it accessible and explain my thoughts about AOS t'pring regardless #and I have. a lot of thoughts about t'pring in general and aos t'pring in specific.#I really really like the idea of her and spock having also been friends as kids #anyway she gets back to her ship and her captain is just like ''what trouble did you get into this time :/''#''made out with my ex-husband's ex-girlfriend.''#''..........well at least nobody almost died for once''#yes I couldn't resist throwing in some background mcspirk

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1kook · 5 years ago

Text

skirt chasers

jjk x (f) reader

summary “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.” tags f2l, triple texting king kook, ncampus crush kook who is also the weird gamer boy, the skirt aspect is forgotten towards the end tbh, dumbassery is a disease and we are all affected by it, confessions SO CORNY it could be a 2005 teen romcom warnings smut in the form of: unprotected sex, use of mirrors, mostly heavy petting as foreplay I’m sorry, mentions of Jk’s furry ways as a gag kinda, like an unnecessary amount of swearing wc 7.8k

to make a long story short, i saw this nsfw gif and wrote this entire fic between 2 am and 6 am anyway i actually really like how this turned out!! lmk when u think

Part of the ideology behind the pleated skirt was in hopes that buying a new wardrobe would somehow help you rebrand your image around campus. Truthfully, it was kinda too late for that now; you’d been here going on three years, your friends and anyone with eyes could see that the style of clothing you leaned towards favored comfort over fashion. However, someone—it might’ve been Taehyung—had gone on a drunken spiel the other night concerning the importance of presenting oneself via fashion. It wasn’t aimed at you, but it certainly left you wondering.

Which is how you find yourself shivering to the bone now, lingering around the west quad as you wait for Jungkook to come out of an anatomy lab. He’s at that point in the semester where grades mean nothing and everything to him at the same time, so Namjoon’s commissioned you and your other pals to take turns babysitting him once a week to make sure he gets at least some assignments done.

You don’t know where any of you would be without Kim Namjoon.

Anyway, your legs are fucking cold and if this is what it takes to be known as the fashionably cute girl around campus, you’d rather choke. The imaginary sound of your bones rattling is cut off when Jungkook throws the door nearest you open, his big dopey smile engulfing his face the moment he sees you. He barely acknowledges the gaggle of students that follow after him, all calling out a chorus of goodbyes to him, because unlike you Jungkook was the cute, campus boy crush with his suave looks and comfortable fashion. God, if only you could pull off sweats and mustard-stained Venom shirts like him.

“Lets go,” you yawn, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of your long cardigan. Jungkook jogs over, slinging an arm around your shoulders and nearly knocking you into the emergency telephone you’d been brooding by. “You smell sterile again.”Jungkook grins.

“That’s because I was touching dead people again,” he informs you, too giddy for someone who’d probably fingered the fuck out of a gallbladder twenty minutes ago.

“Ew,” you whine, the sudden urge to shove Jungkook and his dead people germs away from you. He cackles in your face, and you wonder again how he single handedly enthralls half the campus population with a laugh like a seagull.

You’ve barely moved ten feet when Jungkook finally notices your vibrating body, and it’s only because you’re nearly convulsing with shivers at this point. “Woah, what are those,” he exclaims, eyes pointedly eyeing your legs.

You know your bare legs are a rare sight when Jungkook has to resolve to overused memes to refer to them.

“They’re my legs, and they’re fucking freezing,” you calmly reply.

Jungkook seems shocked for only a moment longer, and you almost think he’s gotten over it when he suddenly snorts and scares the shit out of you in the middle of the crosswalk. “Why the fuck are you wearing a skirt in this weather, you dinglehead?”

You shove him, and he stumbles over the curb, but you get the feeling he’d do that without you pushing him. Jungkook was clumsier than Namjoon on his bad days. “I’m trying to be fashionable, you hater,” you huff, not even bothering to say thank you when he pulls open the coffee shop door for you. “I shouldn’t have to explain myself to someone who doesn’t even wear the right size shirt.”

Like always, he’s one step ahead of you and hands the cashier his card before you can even reach for your wallet. Next time. “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.”

“For your information I bought this from H&M,” you retort, though you can’t hide the flush that warms your cheeks at his comment. “Also, what's the point of working out your hotbod if you’re just gonna hide it under shirts long enough to be a mini-dress, huh? Riddle me that, Jeon.”

You flinch when your bare thigh touches the cold seat of the booth, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Your skirt is mad short,” he points out, and you kick his shins.

You’ve already got a Google Doc open on your laptop from last night when you and Jimin had been going ham on a psych essay, but you also have a Fashion Nova cart on another window that’s just begging for you to check out.

“Short skirts are just a concept made by men with lingering eyes to demean and belittle women who don’t submit to their every want and need.”

“Oh my god,” he groans, and you watch him muffle a laugh into his palm as he gets his own work out. “Do you think I’m gonna pull the meninist card out on you and call you a slut or something?”

You fake gasp, eyes wide and shocked as you give him your best disappointed face. “Jeon, how could you? I expected better from you.”

This time he does laugh, a dorky sound unlike his witch cackle from earlier, and you finally let a smile slip. Jungkook was funny, too sweet and kind hearted for his own good. A little dumb, but most cute guys were. He’s one of those guys who thinks girls are nice to him out of their own free will, and not because they’re trying to bag the campus hottie.

“Seriously,” he says once he’s pulled his fat anatomical reference book out, stuffed to the brim with worn scientific essays he’d printed out, and pictures he’d taken at every single one of his visits to the cadaver lab. His voice is earnest and genuine when he speaks again. “You can wear whatever you want, I was just curious about the skirt ‘cause you normally wear things past the knee and elbow.”

When he puts it like that you kinda sound surprisingly conservative.

You shrug, tapping away at your computer as if the sight of you in anything other than what he said isn’t really weird. “Just thought I’d try something new. Why, does it look too weird?” Your voice suddenly feels meek, and you’re not sure if your cheeks are warm from the chill outside or from something else.

Jungkook shakes his head, coconut hair bouncing from side to side. “Nah, you look cute,” he says, and then, as if an afterthought, adds, “weirdly sexy, too. Like you belong in a Brazzers video?”

“What the fuck, Jungkook,” you groan, sinking your head into your palms.

“What! You asked for my opinion and I gave you it,” he defends, too casual for someone spewing their unwarranted porn knowledge at you. You urge him to do his homework, drink his coffee, anything besides embarrass you further.

He does, but you don’t miss the goofy way he glances under the table one more time.

The pleated skirt makes it’s return three weeks later, this time accompanied by her best friend, the sheer pantyhose.

“Oh, who’s this sexy schoolgirl?” Taehyung exclaims the moment you step into the diner. Your cheeks flush red when the family beside you send you and your friends a disapproving look.

“That’s what I said!” Jungkook says as he gets up to let you slide into the booth. He has this incessant need to be sitting at the end of the booth just in case nature calls in the middle of dinner and he can’t usher the rest of you out fast enough.

(It almost happened once, and the sight of Jungkook shoving Hoseok flat on his ass had been too funny to forget.)

“Wait a minute, is that why you stopped using EOS and started using the Dove shaving cream?” Chaeyoung interrogates from across you. “So you could show off your sexy model legs?”

“No, Dove is just cheaper,” you reply, trying to sound as aloof as possible but if anyone at this table knew you like the back of their hand, it was definitely Chaeyoung. “Why can’t you guys let me live my best life?”

Taehyung scoffs. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Who the fuck are you?” You snap back, but your level of sass can never seem to match his.

“We all know your ‘best life’ would be spent in those fuzzy Cookie Monster pajama pants and one of Kook’s big ass shirts,” he points out, and you hide behind your menu much to everyone’s amusement.

You whine, “why can’t you all just be supportive besties and tell me I look cute?”

“You look gorgeous, babe,” Chaeyoung assures you, gesturing for you to pass her the sugar for her coffee. “It’s just weird seeing your legs out. Almost weirder than if you randomly pulled your tits out right now.”

Behind her, you can see the same mom from the family glaring at you guys. You lower your head in shame.

“For the record, I’m team skirt, but I wouldn’t be opposed to the other,” Jungkook adds after being silent for so long. Taehyung fist bumps him as you slap your hand over your eyes. At this rate you’d rather just put a paper bag over your head.

“We’re sitting on the same side of the table, so you’re supposed to be on my side!” You groan, and Jungkook shrugs mid-milkshake sip.

“I am!” He splutters once he’s gulped down the thick substance. “I just said I was team skirt, did I not?” His scandalized pout twists into the same sneaky little smile he has whenever Taehyung has convinced him and Jimin to do something stupid. “But I’m also a man, and therefore, a skirt chaser,” he winks.

From the other side of the table Taehyung’s eyes twinkle. “Bro, your mind,” he says in awe. He reaches over to shake Jungkook’s hand as if he’s just presented the table with some riveting discovery in the medical field, and the fucker has the nerve to look smug about it too.

“You guys are so stupid,” Chaeyoung whispers right before the server sets her pancakes down.

“Hey, have you seen Joon’s book? He said he might’ve left it—oh, Jesus, fuck sorry,” Jungkook says before whirling around to face the wall.

You turn from your bent over position by your bed where you’d been rummaging around for a book you coulda sworn you stuffed there last week. Jungkook’s blazing cheeks don’t register with you until you realize your favorite skirt is draping over your rear, giving him a clear view of your dorky star-printed panties.

“Kook,” you stammer, quickly jumping to your feet and brushing your hands over your skirt. “H-How’d you get in?” You ask for lack of greeting.

“Um, uh,” Jungkook stutters, eyes laser focused on some point on your wall. “Chaeyoung let me in.”

“Oh,” you say, and then silence falls over the two of you.

Holy shit this was awkward.

Despite being friends for going on three years, you don’t ever remember there being any stale moments between you and Jungkook. You were the type of friends that just clicked, never having gone through that awkward phase before. But you’d also never seen each other in any state less than presentable. (Being drunk at parties did NOT count, and even then, you’ve always been pretty collected.)

To know that he’s seen your ass, covered or not, tilted your Golden Friendship with Jungkook scale extremely off center. Your fingers twiddle at your sides, not really sure if you should mention what just happened or… what?

He coughs, and you snap back to reality. “Um,” he drawls, still not looking at you but at the socks you’d thrown off the second you got home. “Sorry about that,” he apologizes, voice soft and earnest in that Jungkook™ way that made all the girls swoon. “I should’ve knocked before coming in all rude.” He finally gathers the balls to look you in the eye, and the dude looks like a kicked puppy.

“No,” you wave him off, hands fluttering in front of you because standing like some Macy’s holiday mannequin certainly isn’t making this situation any easier. “It’s okay, the skirt—y’know this wouldn’t happen if I just wore pants,” you say, tacking on a self-deprecating laugh. It’s your turn to look away in shame.

Jungkook jumps at your words. “The skirt’s cute!” He basically shouts and you flinch at the sudden increase in his tone. Then you’re both left looking at each other wide-eyed again as he scrambles to assure you it isn’t your fault. “I like it, and it makes your legs look really nice, so don’t-“ he stutters, as if realizing the meaning in his words, “don’t stop wearing it...” he trails off, cheeks rosy. Your mind goes blank.

“R-Really?” You stutter, surprised at his compliment. It’s not like Jungkook never complimented you—dude couldn’t go fifteen minutes without telling his friends how much he loved them—but for some reason it feels different now.

“Yeah,” he assures you. “Makes you look nice, and um. Pretty.”

“Jeon Jungkook telling me I look pretty? Someone call TigerBeat magazine,” you joke, trying to ease the tension somehow. Your chuckle sounds awfully robotic to your ears, but it makes Jungkook crack a smile and that’s all that matters.

“Shut up. You know I’m not friends with ugly people.”

“Wooow,” you laugh, real this time. “How noble of you,” you retort, and he gives you his best snobby expression possible.

“Ya, you’re welcome,” he teases, and then suddenly remembers what he came for in the first place. “Give me Joon’s planner, I know you’re holding it hostage.”

You roll your eyes, and point over to the notebook on your desk that’s absolutely overflowing with sticky notes and bookmarks. “As if I’d want his nerd diary ruining the good vibes in here.”

“These good vibes smell a lot like Bath and Body Works perfumes, you cheapskate,” Jungkook says as he snatches the book off the surface. He’s at the door again, narrowing you with another faux uppity look when he adds, “this is a Victoria’s Secret Bombshell household.”

“Bombshe—you don’t even live here!” You huff in laughter, ushering him down the hall to the front door. He’s half a foot out the door when he suddenly whirls around, making you take a step back in surprise.

“The stars are cute, but I prefer hearts.”

He slams the door shut behind him so fast, that you almost don’t catch the smirk tacked on at the end.

You were many things, but a liar was not one of them. You couldn’t lie to your parents when you were younger and wanted to sneak out, to your teacher when she asked where your homework was, or to your friends when they asked you who you liked. You couldn’t even lie to yourself.

You’ll admit it, there was a time your eyes had lingered a little longer on Jungkook. When you would spend moments tracing the slope of his jawline, and memorizing the twinkle in his eyes. He was devastatingly handsome, and you would be blind not to see it.

But that was before you became close friends—before game nights at Hoseok’s became a regular staple in your schedule, before your little makeshift picnics in the quad, before you all became Park Jimin’s dedicated fan club (it’s a rotating unit consisting of whoever’s able to go to Jimin’s showcases).

Those fantasies of kissing Jungkook and going on dates were stuffed to the back as you became pals. As you’ve mentioned a million times now, Jungkook was the campus dream boy. He was hardly the skirt chaser he made himself out to be, too sweet and romantic for his own good. Besides, there was no need to be when the skirts flocked to him.

He’d had flings, and even girlfriends, in the time you’ve known him, but he rarely mentioned them to his friends. And even though you pushed that teensy crush aside, you still wondered how Jungkook acted with girls he was interested in, if it was the same he treated you and Chaeyoung, or special on an intimate level a platonic friendship could never be.

It’s the middle of the night when you first get a glimpse.

[1:21 am] jk wyd

[1:21 am] you sleeping , u?

[1:22 am] jk same anyway I finally beat world 8 in super Mario bros

[1:25 am] you omg the 1 w dry bowser?? [1:26 am] you wait u said u wouldn’t play w/o me :/

[1:27 am] jk u suck at Luigi and u know it

[1:30 am] you fuck u [1:31 am] you ok but seriously what do u want I have a test tmrw morning and am pretending to be asleep

[1:32 am] jk damn ok can’t I just talk to my friend about my successes [1:33 am] jk but if u must know

[1:33 am] you I must

There’s a lull in messages for a while, and you decide you should finally actually go to sleep, dabbing some spot ointment onto your skin before hopping in bed. You turned off the overhead light long ago, so the only light illuminating you now is the lamp by your bedside. You tap your phone once again right as Jungkook sends another message.

[1:40 am] jk you looked really pretty today

Oh. Your entire body pauses for a moment to process the sudden message, cheeks slowly heating up. You roll your lips in to stop the squeal that threatens to rip itself out of your throat, scrambling for something to type. But it’s the first time he’s randomly thrown something like this on you, and your brain feels like that episode of Spongebob when everything’s on fire.

Before you can send the jumbled letters you’d convinced yourself was acceptable, your phone vibrates with another alert.

[1:42 am] jk I know its weird to say that but I gotta make sure someone told u at least once today

Your heart flutters at the explanation, and you have to slap a hand over your face to get rid of the goody smile that overtakes your features. This time, you’re a little less thrown off and quickly tap out a reply before he can say anything else.

[13:43 am] you thanks kook :) was it the red skirt lol

You’d been experimenting with different skirts lately, quickly growing bored of the black pleated skirt you’d originally worn. Your latest trip to the mall had you coming home with a variety of colors and styles, like the dark red denim one you’d worn today.

[1:45 am] jk no!!!! [1:45 am] jk maybe… [1:46 am] jk ok yes you looked gorgeous

The tiny letters blink back at you, and you set your phone down for a second to smile stupidly at your dark ceiling. You only let yourself wildly kick your legs around for five seconds because Chaeyoung was asleep next door.

[1:47 am] you haha well I’ll make sure to wear it again for u :)

It’s only after you’ve sent the message that the last two words have you stuffing your face into your pillow to hide your embarrassment. Girl, what the fuck!!!

Oh my god, he could’ve just been friendly and polite this whole time. Jimin had said the skirt looked cute on you as well, and you hadn’t responded like this. All it took was a few compliments from Jungkook to have you dopily acting like a clown for his affections.

Before you can scold yourself anymore, your phone vibrates and you have to sit up to retrieve it from where you’d tossed it across the bed.

[1:50 am] jk for me? I’m honored :) [1:51 am] jk anyway get some rest before ur exam!!! [1:51 am] jk night cutie

You squeal, and Chaeyoung kicks your shared wall.

You liked to clown Seokjin for being the president of his fraternity. He was already a stereotypical frat boy, so it wasn’t that hard anyway; he came from money, was ridiculously gorgeous, and played on your school’s soccer team. However, behind that facade he liked to put up, he, too, was infected by the dumbass disease.

“Wait, are those your legs?” He says the moment you step into his frat party. Normally, he wasn’t prone to the same stupid questions that regularly plagued Taehyung and Jungkook (sometimes Namjoon, but everyone had their weak moments), so you deduce that he probably had some alcohol in his system to openly be asking you such a question.

“Yes, now give me whatever’s in that cup,” you brush off, not bothering to stick around to watch him not-so-subtly grope Chaeyoung as she enters behind you. You trust him enough to hand you a drink that hasn’t been roofied, but you’re also aware that Jin drinks like he’s trying to die three times over. One sip has your face scrunching up at the sour bitterness of it all.

There’s a loud cackle of a laugh that you’d recognize anywhere, and you turn to find Jungkook leaning against the staircase banister looking like a wet dream. “Someone lost on their way to Weenie Hut Jr?” he sneers, cheeks a nice rosy color. You flick his forehead.

You don’t bother gracing him with a reply, instead shuffling over so you’re stood side by side observing the party before you. Yoongi’s here, which is an even weirder sight than your legs being out, so you wonder why no one is talking about that. But then you see the way he’s trailing after Seokjin’s cat, Jalapeño, and realize he’s only here to make sure no one hurts her (she’s more important than anyone else here). You honor his service with another sip of Jin’s whatever the fuck mix.

“Wow, getting braver every day, huh?” Jungkook teases after giving you a very intense once over. He’s referring to the skirt you’re wearing, a little black circle skirt that flows around you like the first one you’d worn a couple months ago. Call it a tribute to the one that started it all. You’ve definitely experimented with lengths a little more, the one you’re wearing now brushing just barely below your ass. Appropriate for the frat party, but definitely not for your theology elective.

You hum, stepping aside as a couple makes their way up the stairs. You’re tempted to go tattle on them to Seokjin, but decide against it when you feel Jungkook’s fingers brush against your thigh.

He grins at the surprised little gasp you let out. “Pretty,” he chuckles, deep and seductive in a way you’ve never seen before. You were used to giggly Jungkook, and Jungkook who laughs like the stepmom from Cinderella, but you’d never seen this one before, the Jungkook who looked and laughed like he was straight out of a Calvin Klein campaign.

You giggle like a teenager at his compliment, unsure of what else to do so you settle on chugging Jin’s death drink. You only get a good three gulps in before Jungkook’s tugging the plastic cup away from you and setting it down on the nearest flat surface. “Don’t get all drunk on me now,” he jokes, eyes the teensiest bit glassy. He doesn’t look drunk, and he’s certainly not acting drunk. He might be a little tipsy, you think, because a completely sober Jungkook would never have the balls to tug you closer by the waist like this one does.

Your hands fall flat on his chest, warm beneath the material of his shirt. Not one of his super baggy ones today, but still a bit loose where it could hug his build. “What happened to the little red one? You said you’d wear it for me…” he questions, lips playfully pushing out into a pout.

You struggle to meet his gaze, focusing on the mole beneath his lip instead. “I, um, haven’t got around to washing it,” you stutter, absentmindedly shifting your weight from side to side.

“Really?” Jungkook presses, sounding like he doesn’t believe you at all. After a moment in which he ducks down to catch your gaze, he seems to accept. “That’s fine. This one’s cuter anyway.”

His words are emphasized by his fingers, tracing along the edge of your skirt while purposefully making sure to graze your skin. You shiver, unconsciously arching your chest into him. It’s only afterwards that you realize when Jungkook smirks in triumph. “Easy access too,” he murmurs, and your heart leaps in your chest.

“Jeon,” you whisper, hyper aware of all the people in this house right now. You’re standing at a point where everyone walks by, and the idea of Jungkook groping you in front of these people, some of which are friends, seems horrifying. “People can see.”

Jungkook’s Cheshire smile grows even wider, and you muffle a yelp when his hand slips beneath your skirt to grope your ass. “Since when were you shy?” He says, voice soft and lilting over the hum of whatever music is playing now. “Weren’t shy when you had your ass in the air that one day in your room.”

Your cheeks burn at the memory, but your core surges with a newfound heat at his wandering hands and teasing words. “Remember?”

You nod, tucking your head against his neck in a last ditch effort to hide your embarrassment. From here, your senses are bombarded with Jungkook and only Jungkook.

You feel him let out a long sigh. “Been thinking about you since,” he admits. “Nah, even before that. When you wore my shirt that one day after our balloon fight in the west quad.”

Your heart thunders at his sudden confession. The balloon fight in question had been a little over a year ago, a rallying effort from your friend group to cheer Taehyung up after an exam. After soaking each other to the bone with water guns and balloons, Jungkook had let you wear one of his stupidly big shirts home. So you’d ditched your usual jeans and shirt, wearing his shirt like a dress all the way home.

The fact Jungkook’s been thinking about you since then makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter.

“Every time you wear these little skirts, I think of that day. You, in my clothes, looking so soft and warm. Fuck, baby, you don’t know what you do to me.”

You glance around, and your soul almost leaves your body when you make direct eye contact with Yoongi holding Jalapeño across the room. He gives you that Yoongi look, the whatever you’re doing is weird but I won’t say anything because I don’t care look, and that’s your signal to stumble your way upstairs before Seokjin can see you two and scold you.

You’re not sure who’s room you end up, just that it has one and a half bunk beds in it, so you don’t hesitate to push Jungkook down onto the half. He plops down like a little cherub, all sweet smiles until you see the way his pants strain at the crotch. Of fuck, this is happening, you think as you climb onto his lap.

His lips envelope yours the second you’re in his arms. You’re not usually one to give into those John Green cliches, but everything about being in Jungkook’s embrace feels so right. Like you belong there, or whatever.

He’s a good ass kisser, but you shouldn’t be surprised. Jungkook was good at everything he did—such was a known fact. But he still kisses you like he’s trying to prove something, like he wants you to melt into him, and he succeeds. His mouth moves against yours, tongue sneaking it’s way past your lips until it’s inside yours, and you’re swapping spit. His breath hot, but you imagine yours is as well because just making out with Jungkook has your body temperature hotter than the inside of a sauna.

“Jungkook,” you groan when he pulls away, desperate to feel his mouth on yours again. He smiles, lips slick and cherried as he drops his hands to your waist.

“‘M right here,” he assures you, pressing a few pecks to your mouth before trailing his lips down your neck, deliciously licking and kissing every inch. You let out a choked moan, and you can feel his smile press against your skin. “Cute,” he croons.

“More,” you beg, fingers curling themselves into his hair. It’s gonna way longer these last few months, the front pieces almost brushing the tip of his nose. He looks sexy as fuck.

“At least let me stretch you out first,” he teases, face too cute for someone about to fuck your brains out. You huff in annoyance, snatching his hand away from its path to your panties.

“No,” you whine, and then shuffle forward to grind your center onto him. Jungkook groans, jaw tight as he watches you. “Just fuck me, Jungkook.”

His eyes roll back at a particular roll of your hips. “I-It’ll hurt, though,” he tries to reason, but his hands are already hiking up the back of your skirt.

“Make it hurt,” you mumble, so caught up in the moment that your eyes bulge out when he suddenly lifts you to your feet. “What’s wrong?” You huff in dismay, lower lip trembling at the thought of him changing his mind. He lets out an airy chuckle.

“Turn around for me, doll,” he softly demands, and not a single inch of you feels the need to go against him.

You’re met with the sight of your own expression, staring back at you from the closet’s mirrored sliding doors. It’s a little dark in the room, most of the light coming from a desk lamp on the other side of the room that had been on when you first broke in with Jungkook.

“So pretty,” Jungkook praises from behind you, and you watch in the glass as two firm hands snake around your waist, slowly easing you back into his lap. In the seconds you were distracted by yourself, he’d unbuckled the front of his jeans, the cotton fabric of his boxers brushing against your ass. “Gonna fuck yourself on my cock, baby?”

You nod, unsure of what to do with your hands. You needn’t worry any longer, your body naturally guiding you through the motions, until one hand grabs his thigh and the other grapples for the bedside drawer next to you. His fingers trace around your waist, hiking your skirt up to—only to reveal a pair of white undies with red hearts. Jungkook’s chuckle against your ear makes you clench your legs together. “Fuck, it’s like you knew this would happen,” he murmurs, and you can’t take your eyes off the mirror as you watch his fingers trace over your covered mound. “Did you?” He asks, breath fanning over your ear.

“N-no,” you gasp, hips jumping when he presses a lone finger to where your clit would be had your girly panties not obstructed the way. You’re embarrassingly wet just from kissing Jungkook, and his playful fingers only worsen your state. “Please hurry, Kook,” you plead, grinding back against his engorged cock.

“You sure?” He checks, and your bobble head nods have him muffling more laughter into your shoulder. “If you say so, baby.”

He lifts you up just the slightest bit to tug his cock out of its confines, and this is the only instance where you wish you weren’t looking at the mirror. His fingers dance along your skin again, tugging your panties to the side.

Screw it, just do it, you say to yourself before sinking down on his cock in one go. “Oh fuck,” you cry, head lolling back to rest against his shoulder at the sudden intrusion.

“Holy shit,” he sighs into your hair, one hand circling to the front of your waist, while the other creeps upwards to rub at where he knows your nipple is. If he were to pull your shirt and bra away, he’d see how rock hard your nipples were right now. “Relax for me, doll, I promise it’ll feel better if you relax.”

You nod, eyes squeezed shut as your body slowly assimilated to the feeling of being stuffed full. God, he felt good inside you. Fit every crevice of you pussy like he was made for you. “Jungkook,” you moan, and he hums in response. “You feel so f-fuckin good,” you babble, swiveling your hips much to both your pleasures. “Can feel you everywhere.”

He presses a kiss to your scalp. “Can you move for me, baby?” He questions, dropping his hands to your waist before slowly pushing you up so you’re not flopped against him like a rag doll. “Wanna see you bounce on my cock. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

You nod eagerly, desperate to show Jungkook how good you ride dick. You muster up the strength to sit up, one hand right around his thigh again, but this time the other one clamps down over his hand on your waist. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, giving your hips a tight squeeze.

It’s like you thrive off Jungkook’s compliments, because soon enough you’re riding him like your life depends on it.

It’s a rhythm of pushing yourself over and over, thighs tense from the effort it takes to pull yourself away from his cock until only his tip breaches you, before dropping back down. You can’t entirely take the credit, because Jungkook’s arms are there, lifting you up before pushing you back down. Truthfully, he’s probably still doing most of the work in fucking you with the way you see his arms flexing in the mirror.

“Lemme hear you, doll,” Jungkook huffs, and you don’t hesitate to moan for him. It feels overwhelmingly good, his hands tight on your waist as they move you up and down, the material of your skirt bunched up between his fingers. What you’d give to feel them inside you some day, a day in which you’re not dying to feel his cock inside of you. “That’s it,” he grunts, and doesn’t even complain when your legs begin slowing down.

He picks up the slack for you, thrusting his hips up into you like you’re just some toy for him to use and discard. But the soft praises slipping past his lips assure you you are anything but. “F-fuck,” you whine, forcing yourself above and beyond as you begin to feel that familiar coil of heat grow tighter in your abdomen. “Your cock’s s-so f-fucking big!” You cry, and one look at the mirror let’s you know you look as stupid and fucked-out as you sound.

“Really?” Jungkook smirks, drilling into you like his life depends on it. There’s an embarrassingly growing stain on the front of your panties that you catch sight of in the mirror, and part of you wants to clench your legs shut so he doesn’t see. But it seems to do it for Jungkook, and he starts rambling about that next. “Look at you. Fuck. You’re ruining your cute little panties. Absolutely fucking soaking them with hot wet you are. I get you that wet, doll?”

You squeal at a particular thrust of his hips, feeling his cock so deep in you that your eyes momentarily go cross eyed. “Yes, yes!” You agree, bouncing yourself with a renewed vigor.

The answers please Jungkook, and he rolls forward until he’s pressing his tip faintly against your cervix, and your body damn near leaves your soul. “O-oh fuck!” You scream, body turning into jelly as your orgasm has you spurting hot cum into your panties and over his cock.

“Pretty even when you come,” Jungkook huffs, hips rocking up into yours for a few more minutes until he eventually comes when you roll your hips backwards. “Holy fucking shit,” he moans, finally releasing your skirt from the death grip he had on it.

You watch it flutter back into place around you, and you almost look like two platonic friends sitting together, but then Jungkook shifts inside you and your body convulses from the oversensitivity.

“Wait, you and Jeon finally fucked?!” Chaeyoung exclaims halfway through breakfast, which she had so lovingly prepared at three in the afternoon. “When? Is that why you made us get waxed last week?”

“No!” You flush, shoving another forkful of burnt scrambled eggs into your mouth. “We waxed our coochies before that, but I didn’t know we were gonna fuck.”

Chaeyoung blinks. She’s stupid pretty even with avacado spread on her cheek. “So do you have like a seventh sense on when to get your kitty trimmed?”

“What? No,” You scoff. “Seventh? What’s my sixth?”

“Knowing the exact moment Taehyung’s gonna throw up at a party.”

You accept. “Anyway, we just… I don’t know. It was at Seokjin’s third birthday bash last weekend.” She nods like she remembers anything besides sucking face with him all night. “We were talking and then suddenly we were upstairs and...” you trail off, glancing at your fake collection of succulents lining the kitchen window.

“Was he good?” She interrogates.

You flop back onto your chair dramatically. “Chae. He was so good,” you whine, and she slaps your arm in enthusiasm. “He made me ride him facing a mirror,” you spill.

Chaeyoung squeals. “Bitch!! Here I was thinking Jeon Jungkook was the poster boy of vanilla sex,” she pauses. “I mean, still pretty vanilla compared to the time Seokjin stuck it in my—“

You gag and she rolls her eyes. “Have you been talking since?”

This is the part where things get awkward, and Chaeyoung immediately senses as much. “Oh, honey,” she frowns, eyes furrowed in worry.

“He walked me home,” you mumble, toying with the tablecloth ends. “Kissed me on the doorstep and all, but besides a few texts, I haven’t seen him around,” you lamely finish. It’s been a week.

“Ugh, men are trash,” she spits, turning in her seat to play with your hair. “I swear if I see him on campus I’ll rock his shit. My older brother used to practice WWE moves on me, I could easily smash him through a table.”

“WWE wrestling is staged, Chae,” you point out. Chaeyoung was about ten thousand times more experienced when it came to men and their behaviors. She’s been played but also has played, so her reaction to you telling her about Jungkook is all you need to hear.

In all the scenarios you’ve ever had about Jungkook, him randomly ghosting you had never even been a possibility. The Jungkook from your imaginary universes either just dumped you, or awkwardly friendzoned you. But completely disappearing on you? Now that was some John Greene shit.

You’ve gone long periods of time without seeing him, like your freshman year you saw him one time in March. But even then he’d made sure to keep in contact with you, randomly blowing up your phone with Cup Pong and 8Ball requests.

He sent you two texts this whole week, and both of them had been to cancel your homework sessions.

You almost couldn’t believe you were living this life. The men are trash, love isn’t real, heartbreak can possibly cause death life. Forget John Green, your life had taken an unexpected Shakespearean turn.

“Oh,” you say the moment you step into Taehyung and Jungkook’s apartment, surprised at the fact Jungkook is there despite the fact he, y’know, lives there. In retrospect, you should have seen this coming when Tae had asked you over to help him decorate a poster for Jin’s next game. He’s never been to a single soccer match in his life. “Is Tae here?” You ask, looking every part the stupid bitch.

Jungkook’s cheeks had flushed the moment he opened the door. “No…” he answers, glances at the shoe rack behind the door as if to make sure. “Were you supposed to meet him?” Well no shit.

“Uhh, yeah,” you say, and it’s even more awkward than the time he saw your star undies. Granted, now he’s become very familiar with your underwear and what’s hidden beneath it. You would think such an encounter would bring you two closer. “I’ll just come back another time.”

“Do you wanna come in?” He blurts out before you can even turn away. You flinch at the sudden intensity of his voice, and then both of you are left staring at each other like cringey high schoolers. “I cut some cucumber slices with lime and that one spice you like.”

“Taíjn?” You confirm, and he nods. “I mean...sure, if it’s not a bother.”

Usually when you and Jungkook hung out at his place, you’d throw your bag across the room and flop onto the ugly armchair the moment you stepped in. Now, you’re awkwardly hovering by the armrest of the sofa, like this is your first time here.

Jungkook disappears into the kitchen to, you assume, get the cucumber slices. He comes back empty handed, and with a heavy heart. “I lied. There’s no Tajín,” he confesses, and you rush to tell him it’s okay but he beats you to it. “There’s no cucumber slices either. I just needed to get you inside to talk to you.”

“You act like I needed to be lured in, Jungkook,” you say, forcing a tight smile on your face. Jungkook visibly deflates at your tone.

“No, this isn’t right,” he huffs, dramatically throwing himself onto the couch. You jump at the loud groan he releases from his position, which is face stuffed into the cushion.

“You...okay?” You tentatively ask, clutching your bag even closer to your side. Jungkook shakes his head no against the couch. “Should I call Namjoon over?”

He sits up so fast you worry he’ll get whiplash. “I have a confession to make,” he informs you, doe eyes wide and serious.

Your brain processes for a minute before slowly responding. “Okay…”

At your response he jumps to his feet. “This may come as a shock, but I’m not a womanizer.”

You blink.

“When have you ever been a womanizer, Jeon?!” You nearly exclaim when you mull over his absurd proclamation. “Are there people who actually think that?”

“I think that people think that,” he stresses to you, running a hand through his hair. “Look. I don’t mean to brag, but I’m really nice and cool, and sometimes people think that means I’m flirting with them.” Valid point. “But I’m not, because frankly I’m terrible at shooting my shot.”

The fact he’s actually admitted it out loud leaves him devastated, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Finally, something Jeon Jungkook isn’t good at.

“What lead you to that conclusion?” You carefully press on.

“Because,” he sighs, dropping back down onto the couch, except this time he’s sitting like a normal person. You sit beside him, close enough to the edge that you can just spring yourself out the door if need be.

“There’s this girl I like,” your heart pangs, even though the logical side of you can more or less guess where this is going. You’re stupid, but not that stupid. “She’s amazing, like everything about her makes me like her. God, she’s so cool, like everyone wants to be her friend, even though she sucks at Super Smash Bros., and burns her ear on a straightener at least once a month. But she’s funny and sweet, and makes me wanna join a clown troupe just to hear her laugh. And she looks gorgeous in skirts, and the way she rides dic—“

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” you interrupt, glancing at the coffee table decorated with Jungkook’s anatomy books, because you don’t want to look at the big dopey grin on his face as he talks about you and your dick riding abilities.

Jungkook grins, this much you can tell from your peripheral, before it drops into a frown. “Whole point is, she’s cool as fuck. And I… I think I might love her,” he admits, and you whip around to face him. His cheeks are as red as Taehyung’s current hair dye, which is to say they’re as red as a fire truck. You get th feeling you're mirroring his expression.

The silence following his confession seems to drag on an eternity, but truthfully, you and Jungkook both have the patience of a soccer mom of three, so he jumps to fill the spaces between you. “And like, I just wanna kiss her and hold her and watch her eat and cuddle her to sleep and hold her hand and buy her gifts, and I think I would die for her?—”

“Okay chill, Romeo,” you scramble to cut off that train of thought. Jungkook’s looking at you like you were the creative director behind Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker and the trailer released two minutes ago. It’s a weird reference but coming from Jungkook, it means a lot.

You don’t know what to say, but Jungkook beats you to it anyway. “There’s this girl I like,” he repeats, and your heart does nearly implode on itself when he reaches over to clutch your hand in his. Your hands are sweaty and fidgety from his confession, but so are Jungkook’s. “How do I tell her I like her?”

You gulp, before reaching over to smack at his bicep much to both your surprise. “Jeon Jungkook! How’re you gonna give me the best fucking of my life and then ghost me for a week, because you’re too much of a pussy to tell me you like me!” You almost want to cry, and you almost do when he wraps you in his arms with a delighted, warm laugh rumbling through his whole body. “You suck,” you huff, and sniffle once, and only once.

“Thank fuck,” he sighs in relief. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you friendzoned me.”

“The friendzone—“

“—is a made up concept created by men who feel like they’re entitled to women and their feelings, I know,” he huffs and you laugh. You push yourself away from his chest to meet his gaze, stretching up to capture his lips in a sweet kiss that quickly turns naughty when you feel the flex of muscles beneath your hands.

“Ugh, you beefcake.”

“I wish,” he snorts, tugging you back into his chest as he flops down onto the couch. You snuggle into him, the position all too comfortable in your skirt. The only reason you’re reminded of it is because Jungkook traces his fingers along the edge of the material. “You asked me why I workout out but hide in big clothes, and the truth is its so I can beat up any meninist douchebag that tries to slander my girl in her thot skirts.”

You sputter. “My thot skirts—you asshole! All my skirts are of appropriate length,” you defend, pinching his side and winning a giggle for your efforts. “That doesn’t even explain the baggy clothes part either.”

“Shh, your thot skirt is tempting me.”

“He made you dress up as a what now?!” Chaeyoung exclaims, fork clattering loudly against her plate as everyone in the diner turns to look at you two. You try desperately to quiet her, but the damage is done and even the server whose long since become familiar with your antics looks disgusted.

“Oh my god,” Chaeyoung sighs, her concern on everything but this public humiliation. “I knew it. I told you he got along too well with Jalapeño, remember?”

[ NOW WITH A DRABBLE WOW!!! ]

#kpopwonderlandtag #thekpopnetwork #jjk♡#jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jeon jeongguk #mine

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ladylamrian · 3 years ago

Text

Nightbound - Christmas Special (Chapter 1: Heartwarming Holidays)

Fem. Main Character: Alexis Clarissa Fontaine

Word counting: 1.9K

Rating: General

Summary of this chapter: Christmas is coming closer and so is Winter Solstice. Alex talks with her friends about the true meaning of the celebrations.

Warnings: none

Sorry for my bad English, because it’s not my first or second language. Also this is the first time I’m writing such a big story. Also my keypad automatically changes a few words by mistake.

Tagging: @nbappreciationweek (Day 5: Main Character) ; @kinda-iconic ; @bloodboundismylife ; ... [whoever wants to join, please let me know] @choicesficwriterscreations

The streets of New Orleans darkened under a starry sky, a winter breeze spread around the people and Christmas was only a few days away. Alex Fontaine was on her way to the Graveyard Shift to meet her friends, her eyes fell on a happy family walking down the street. They were carrying Christmas presents in their hands, wrapped in glittering paper and little boy started gushing about how he couldn't wait for Christmas to come.

"Mom, Dad, I can't wait for Christmas! Do you think Santa will bring me lot's of presents this year?", the boy asked his parents.

"Only if you were a good boy, then your father... I... I mean, Santa will give you lot's of toys", his mother answered, almost spilling out that her husband is the child's Secret Santa.

When the young family passed by, Alex mouth formed into tiny smile as she thought about her Christmas celebrations with her college friend, Kristin Jones. For Kristin, the spirit of Christmas was enlivened by free booze, no working, clothes sales and flirting with hot strangers at a bar. But for Alex, it's a time to reunite with friends and families and bring joy and laughter. She remembered how the two of them always traded Christmas presents in college before heading home for the holidays.

"Hey Alex, how's it going?", a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned around and saw Cal and Vera appearing.

"Hey guys, it's good to see you. I was just thinking about Kristin.", she confessed and hugged both of her friends.

"Are you missing Cookie?", Vera asked and Alex noded.

The three of them entered the Graveyard Shift to meet the rest of the friends. They already received a warm welcome as they entered and made their ways towards Ivy and Krom who were already seated in their favorite booth. Garrus arrived at the table and served the drinks.

"Sorry, we got late. There was a ghost problem in a mansion we had to deal with.", a female voice said.

"Katherine! Nik! You're here!!", Alex cheered. She rushed towards the two nighthunters and pulled them into a tight hug. After a little while she pulled away.

"Nice to see ya too, rook. Been quite a long time.", Nik said.

"Yeah, I missed all of you! I was so busy in Lamrian learning fae magic and royalty stuff, but I'm glad I managed it somehow, so I get to meet you all here.", Alex replied.

"I'm glad you managed to squeeze an appointment with your common friends from New Orleans in your busy schedule, your highness.", Ivy teased her and made space for the nighthunters to join.

"Since when do the two of you go together on hunts?", Cal asked them while sipping his beer.

"It was only this one hunt, Lowell. Ryder needed my help.", Katherine replied.

"Not true, Katy! You just tagged along with me.", Nik said.

"I was bored, okay?! And I swear this will be the last time, because your dumb hunting technique isn't my style. I would have caught the ghost faster, but you just had to take the lead and...", Katherine argued, but got interrupted by Alex.

"Wooah, woah, woah... No arguing, especially not when Christmas is appearing", Alex warned the two hunters and Vera agreed to her.

"I don't celebrate Christmas, means I can argue with Katy whenever I want", Nik teased before Katherine told him to shut his mouth. Nik's answer made Alex wonder.

"You don't celebrate? Christmas is such a beautiful celebration where friends and families reunite to spread joy and laughter. I understand if some people don't celebrate Christmas, they have other celebrations, but they all have one meaning. To reunite with their loved ones.", she explained her friends with a shy smile on her face.

"That's easy for you two say, Alex. You live a normal and happy life", Katherine said. "I don't celebrate either, I live alone."

"I know, I know, but you must have celebrated once or before... or... umm... had a beautiful moment. Right?", Alex asked.

"Speaking of celebration... Shouldn't you be in Lamrian making preparations for Winter Solstice, darling?", Garrus, the handsome fae bartender asked her while he refilled his friend's drinks. A few members of the gang made a confused look after he mentioned the Winter Solstice.

"What's that?", Cal was the first who asked.

"You'll see it tomorrow night. I'm inviting you all, so wear your formal clothes and be there.", Alex answered and winked.

"I don't know, there must be a lot of faes present at the festival and they're gonna look at us the whole time", Cal gave an unsure answer.

"I wish I could be there, ma chérie. But I have something else already planned for me", a voice said.

"Luc?? When did you came??!! Oh my god, you scared me!!!", Alex replied and laughed after she and everyone else got startled about his sudden apperance.

"Oh, so you didn't planned to invite me along, ma chérie?", he asked.

"Luc, we talked about this ma chérie thing. Don't call Alex like that.", Nik wispered to him in a huffed tone, hoping that nobody listened. Then, the hunter stood up and went upstairs to his apartment.

"I think I'm heading home too.", Katherine replied with a sad expression.

"Don't worry Alex, I will make sure tomorrow night Nik, Cal, Katherine and I will be there in Lamrian wearing our finest clothes", Vera reassured her and squeezed her arm with her gloved hand. Alex had no idea about what's happening, but all she knew is that by mentioning the celebrations and their true meaning, to reunite with friends and families... It might have upsetten some of her friends.

One by one, everyone headed home, leaving her alone with Luc, Garrus, Krom and Ivy.

"Did I said something wrong?", she asked them.

"What? Of course not, they all just had hard times.", Krom carefully answered to make sure Alex doesn't get upset.

"Look guys, I know the four of them hadn't an easy life. I just wanted to invite them to Lamrian and celebrate with them too like I always did with Kristin. Believe me, I had no bad intention and my life wasn't actually great as you all think it was. Kristin is the one who taught me how to enjoy and live a happy life when I first met her in college, before that I was a shy teenage girl who mostly spent the time alone. My mother, Jacqueline had never time for me. That's why I understand what's going through everyone's mind right now. But can't we all forget the past, come together and enjoy this magical time?", Alex asked them.

Garrus served Luc his drink, while trying to keep a neutral expression. Luc, Krom and Ivy stayed quiet for a while too. A second later Garrus, the fae bartender interrupted the quiet moment. "How did you celebrated your holidays at home, Alex? How was your past?", he asked.

"Before even meeting Kristin, I celebrated Christmas with my mother and my adoptive father. We were so happy together like an ordinary family until I grew up a little. When I joined school and my mother got her dream job, a distance grew between us and we barely had time for eachother. I know that's nothing dramatic, but she and my adoptive father became successful in their business career, so they stayed focused and somehow... somehow they forgot I even existed. My adoptive father is great, but my mom and I had a lot of fights when I became a teenager. Alex, you can't do this, you can't do that, you're not making our name proud and everything has to be perfect if you want to step into our footsteps. Uggh, I don't know. I didn't celebrated Christmas, Halloween, New Year's Eve or anything anymore until I joined college and met Kristin, my party girl.", Alex told them and quickly drifted into thoughts.

Ivy, everyone's favorite zombie girl snapped her fingers infront of Alex and pulled her back into reality.

"Oh sorry, I didn't intended to... I just hope Nik, Cal, Katherine and Vera will come, because I'm excited, but also super dooper nervous. I'm going to hold a speech infront of the whole duchy next to Thalissa and I'm still nervous about it. Umm, how... how do you spend your holidays?", she asked with interest while sipping her magical fae drink. Of course, Luc was the first one who began his story.

"My mother is a powerful witch and supernatural beeings don't celebrate holidays made by humans. Witches, for example don't celebrate holidays which are heartwarming, they're mostly about magical rituals and witchcraft. I mostly like Mardi Gras, because that's what most of the people like and makes New Orleans and my souvenir shop so special.", Luc explained until he got interrupted by Ivy.

"Yeah, but Halloween is waaay cooler especially when we spook around and don't have to use the glamour spell to hide our true identity. We can be who we are and don't forget the candy or the fun to scare people", Ivy added. "When I was a mortal, I really enjoyed Christmas especially the part of getting presents. But my favorite festival is still Halloween!".

"Oh my, I don't like Halloween. It is nice to remove the glamour spell for once a while, but I don't like the way humans dress up into spooky costumes. It scares me sometimes and I don't like how they dress up like hairy trolls. I swear those puffy-haired dolls did more to demage our reputation than six-centuries of Norwegian troll-hunters.", Krom admitted to everyone. "Trolls don't celebrate holidays made by humans, but I like Christmas. It's a beautiful celebration, everything is decorated beautifully. Just like Valentine's Day which is one of my favorite days."

"L'amour est beau.", Luc said in a soft voice as Krom tried to steal a peek at Garrus who's busy with cleaning the bar counter. That shy stone troll who secretly has a crush on the handsome fae bartender, Garrus.

"I'm so excited for tomorrow night when we all celebrate with Thalissa and the faes.", Alex excitedly squeaked and commanded the rest to join too. Luc had already plans made, Ivy will be sorting out some ancient books and scrolls with the help of the strong stone-troll, Krom. When she asked Garrus, he paused for a moment and then his sad eyes met her's.

"I would really love to, but I can't. The faes there wouldn't like that, afterall I'm not welcomed there. I really miss my home and the Fae holidays.", Garrus explained her.

"I'm so sorry about that Garrus, but if I as the daughter of the duke of Lamrian can invite you..."

"No dear, it's alright. I enjoyed beeing surrounded by all the faes to celebrate and help everyone, but I rather stay here with my dearest friends.", he said and wrapped his arms around Krom and Ivy. The stone-troll shyly smiled while Ivy rolled her bright red eyes. "Have a good time there tomorrow and you should definitely taste the dustplums, pixies harvest them every winter and they taste excellent."

"Thank you Garrus, and the rest of you for supporting me. Let's hope everything goes well tomorrow."

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