#wish for a better company to spend this life w

[ylangelegy]

⋆.˚ don't ask "what are we?" ♡︎ skz.

── .✦ headcanons of how the members of stray kids would be like if you were in a 'situationship' with them, ala-i like it. the boys are a bit 🚩 in this one, to varying degrees— you have been warned.

CHAN.

Chan doesn't have the time to date properly. In between managing expectations as a leader and keeping all the boys in line, he hardly has a moment to think of being in a dedicated relationship. He thinks it would only be a distraction from his goal, from everything he has built so carefully over the years.

And so maybe he settles for the next best thing— being just a little too close with you, someone who's supposed to be just a friend. Chan treats you like he's your boyfriend.

He sends 'u up?' texts at 3 AM. He spends his days off at your apartment, just lounging around. He'll hug you at any chance that he gets and chalk it up to the fact that he's always been physically affectionate.

When it comes to blurred lines, it's the worst with him. He's perfectly polite and still plenty friendly, enough to have you justifying that he probably treats everyone this way. Right?

After the nth 'u up?', after the one where you've finally had enough and you respond with "Why do you keep doing this to me?", Chan is frankly just horrified. He had no idea that his affections could be misinterpreted— a product both of his culture, and his comfort with you.

Chan will apologize profusely, will say things about 'never wanting to get your hopes up' and 'being more careful in the future'. He'll probably try his darndest to fall back in to being friends with you, but it won't work. He doesn't know how to be just friends with you.

At the end of the day, the group and its image will always come first for Chan. He wouldn't risk it for anything. If there had been a part of him that had even considered being with you, it's kept under lock and key. He tells himself over and over again that it's for the better.

🎧 friends, ed sheeran | friends don't treat me like you do— and i know that there's a limit to everything, but my friends won't love me like you.

MINHO.

When Minho needs to not be Lee Know, when he just needs to be Minho from Gimpo, he knows that he can count on you. It's Minho's style, to mess around with someone who knew him before all of this— the idol lifestyle, the worldwide stardom.

Minho is aware that he's being a little cruel. You only ever hear from him when he's back home, after all. He gives you nothing of his life in Stray Kids; instead, he gives you the scraps of the boy he once was.

He visits on the rare holiday and the even rarer day-offs. He'll roll his eyes when you ask him to cook for you, but he'll already have all the ingredients to your favorite dishes. He'll complain about you sitting on the kitchen counter, but he'll still listen to your stories about work, about your day-to-day life.

You could convince yourself that you're just two friends who are catching up. But if you squint, you see the little things. How Minho's comments about your suitors are always a touch bitter and snide. How his gaze lingers as you eat the meal he prepared.

And when you ask him, one evening, "Why are you here, Minho?", you almost miss the look on his face. Almost. But it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced with something closer to boredom. "Because I want to be," he'll say. A part of you knows that he means it. Another part of you wishes that he meant it in a different way.

Minho keeps coming home to you, but he also keeps leaving the next day. He never looks back as he drives away.

🎧 'tis the damn season, taylor swift | we could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend... i'm stayin' at my parents' house, and the road not taken looks real good now.

CHANGBIN.

It should come as no surprise that Changbin finds romance in the gym. It's one of the few places he frequents outside of the company or the dorms, and it's rare for any of the boys to be with him as he goes.

Maybe you know who he is. Maybe you don't. Changbin can't really bring himself to care. The only thing he's concerned about is that your form is atrocious; he's concerned you're going to break your back if you keep it up. On the day he caves, he does it so casually— a cool offer of "Need a gym buddy?"

The two of you fall in to a ninety-minute routine every M-W-F. At first, it's strictly companionship. Over time, it becomes a little closer to friendship. And then— does Changbin's hand stay a beat too long at the small of your back? Is his hold on your bicep just a little on the possessive side? You're not entirely sure.

If nothing ever happens, it's not for the lack of trying. You've asked Chanbgin out to dinner, to drinks, but he always gives you a sheepish smile and some flimsy excuse. Prior plans. A strict diet.

Still, he's devastatingly funny, and always sincere when he compliments your progress. He touches you like you're fragile and his eyes follow you across the gym. It's torturous, the plausible deniability that you both attempt to maintain. Months in to this arrangement, you try to ask him out one last time. Like every other instance before, he looks like he's genuinely debating it.

But, like every other instance before, he shakes his head. You go your separate ways after the usual pleasantries— good night, see you next week, take care— and you learn that some things are just not meant to work out.

🎧 goodnight n go, ariana grande | it's bad enough we get along so well; just say 'good night' and go.

HYUNJIN.

Honestly, anything akin to a 'situationship' would kill a hopeless romantic like Hyunjin. A part of him thinks that he'd rather stay single than deal with the uncertainties of a casual relationship, than not give his all to just one person.

It gets lonely, though. A lot lonelier than he cares to admit. And so Hyunjin finds solace in you, in just how much he can get away with. Unlike Chan, Hyunjin is aware of what he's doing. You're an imitation of the real thing. A balm meant to soothe, but never meant to always have on.

He plays his role well. He gets sulky when you don't respond, but then he'll go days without saying a word to you. He lavishes you with words of affirmation, but it's never the words that matter the most.

It's like putting a band-aid over a bullet wound. Hyunjin knows that his little charade with you doesn't drive away the lonely, not completely. It can only keep it at bay. With the life he lives, he figures that it's the most that he can get.

Out of the eight, Hyunjin is the only one who will ask you to stay. When you try to break it off, when you attempt to call him out— he's not above begging. He knows it's a little pathetic, to be so desperate for the facsimile of the romance he wants. But it's all he can afford.

It's a vicious cycle. Hyunjin is hot; Hyunjin is cold. He leaves you with a love that's lukewarm.

🎧 tug of war, carly rae jepsen | you seem too good, too good to be true. i'm loving you longer— longer than i'm used to.

JISUNG.

Jisung enjoys the anonymity that the internet can give him. There's only so much places he can go without being recognized, only so many people he can meet who don't know him as HAN from Stray Kids.

On the internet, he doesn't have to be an idol. He's just some guy in his mid-twenties, looking for romance. His profile says he likes desserts and music. He's confident, here, because the people on the other side of the screen— like you— are just as nameless.

It gives him confidence. His usual sharp humor is still in place, but he's a smooth talker, too. He shamelessly tells you what he thinks, when he thinks it— everything from that outfit suits you to I like talking to you.

One time, Jisung even jokingly tells you, I'm just trying to find inspiration for my songs. That has always been his biggest flaw: He has yet to learn how to look at a person and not see a writing prompt.

Jisung is the one who makes the cleanest cut. If you dare to ask him more about himself, or if you question what lies underneath your mutual flirtations, he'll just... leave. The internet makes it so easy to ghost, to charge it all up to experience. And if you're the one who leaves— that works, too.

It doesn't matter who leaves. It always ends the same way: Track three on their recent comeback or a member's newest [SKZ PLAYER], with Han in the credits.

🎧 bad guy, hatchie | and you could be the bad guy, i could be the bad guy. any way you wanna try, it doesn't make it feel right.

FELIX.

Felix's situation is somehow one of the worse types, because his is clearly just a matter of circumstance. It's a waltz of 'will they, won't they?', where Felix just can't seem to make up his mind on how he wants you.

He cares for you. He knows that much. And it shows, too, in the ways that you interact, in the little things he does for you. He enjoys your company, whether it's playing video games with you or teaching you how to bake. He likes you. Sure, fine.

Enough to date you, though? To put you through the terrifying ordeal that is dating an idol?... Felix isn't sure about that. He dances around the truth, inadvertently stringing you along as he goes.

In a way, it feels like the two of you are in lockstep. Felix will just barely cross the line of friendship before reeling in, before taking it back. It can be draining; it can be thrilling. It's whatever you make it.

Felix never comes to a decision. There's too much on his plate, and he will ultimately put the boys— in extension, himself— first. The two of you have the best luck in staying in touch, in settling for something that resembles a proper friendship.

(But it's still there. Felix, at the end of the day, cannot completely close himself to you. Call it kindness. Call it cruelty. The door, still half-open; the lights, still on.)

🎧 light on, maggie rogers | if you're gone for good, then i'm okay with that. if you leave the light on, then i'll leave the light on.

SEUNGMIN.

Seungmin might not be the most tactile in the group, might not be the 'clingiest' in the traditional sense of word, but he has his moments. He craves attention, companionship, people. While he has his pick of the litter with the boys, there's also only so much that they can offer.

Enter you. Let it be made clear: Seungmin would never get in an arrangement like this if you weren't both on the same page. From the get go, he tells you his intentions. "Nothing serious," he warns, his eyes sharp and his jaw set. "None of that 'love' stuff."

And it's not because Seungmin doesn't want to fall in love. Of course he wants to! But at the price of his career? Never. He's willing to compromise, though. To treat all of this almost like it's a business transaction. To only ever have you in private, in secret.

He knows his boundaries. He never gives you everything, but he also never leaves you high and dry. In a way, you're both just filling the gaps in each other's lives— almost like it's a quota. You steal away on private dates. You both get your fill of physical affection. Neither of you call it a relationship.

There are one or two versions of this story where Seungmin is the one who falls first. It is inevitably you, and when he picks up on it, there is no screaming match. No 'break up' in a parking lot. It's a quiet sort of ending where you can tell that Seungmin is just a little bit disappointed to have to cut you loose.

🎧 lowkey, niki | i know we're a little fucked up to stay still, love. be as quite as you can 'cause if anyone sees they'll just blow shit up.

JEONGIN.

Being surrounded by seven other guys who constantly treat him like he's the youngest, it's a little difficult for Jeongin to not let it get to his head. He still sometimes acts his age— especially when it comes to dating.

He's never hasty enough to cause any real damage, though there are times where he comes dangerously close. If there's anything bound to get him in to trouble, it's his tendency to just leave when something no longer serves him.

Jeongin is acutely aware, after all, of the little power that he wields. He's a big believer that he can get anything he wants as long as he puts his mind to it. And so he dates you for a short time, in a way that can only really be described as love bombing.

He loves sneaking out to go on dates, loves late night phone calls and shameless flirting. He'll send you a dozen selcas; he'll ask you to help pick out his outfit. He's sweet in a way that only somebody reckless and young can be, and it's the reason why people fall so hard and so fast.

But the moment Jeongin catches any hint of that— the impending commitment conversation, the just-about-to-hit question of 'what are we?'— he's already blocking your number. He may seem devil-may-care, but he'd been careful from the very beginning.

You'll never be able to definitively say that he flirted with you, that you were together. He knows how to cover up his tracks. When Jeongin clears out, it's always in a way that leaves you wondering: Did it really ever happen at all?

🎧 good graces, sabrina carpenter | it's not that complicated; you should stay in my good graces or i'll switch it up like that, so fast!

[wardenparker]

New Year's Surprise

Jack Daniels x plus size female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 18.7k Warnings: Cursing, alcohol, internalized fatphobia, self esteem issues, pining, meddlesome friends, unwanted attention from a male coworker, light spanking, praise, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, Jack likes being scratched up, reader is described as having fingernails long enough to scratch (no specific length given), the love is requited they're just idiots. Summary: Ginger has a plan to get you and Jack to admit you have feelings for each other. She did not anticipate just how well it would work... Notes: Happy almost New Year everyone! Enjoy a little more winter seasonal smut and fluff from us to you 🥂🍾✨

"You're sure it's not too much, Ging?" Turning in front of the full-length mirror in Ginger's apartment, you inspect the glittering black cocktail dress that your friend helped you pick out at the mall during all those after-Christmas sales she promised you that you would find something at. She was right, like she always is, but now that the dress is on you, you're wondering if you haven't made a mistake. If it's not too revealing, or too short, or too tight.

Whoever in HR came up with this insane Cowboys and Flappers theme for the company New Year's Eve party deserved to have their head examined. You're not the femme fatale agent that gets sent out to seduce men and collect their secrets. Few men out there in the world are ever really seduced by the chubby girl in any given scenario, but it did tend to make you invisible. Invisible women can slip in and out of buildings in literally any kind of uniform and get through security without ever being harassed, and that works to your advantage on almost every case. Unfortunately, it also means that for the five years you've been a Statesman agent, you've also been fairly invisible to the man you've developed feelings for.

It’s perfect.” No matter how many times Ginger Ale tells you that you are sexy just the way you are, that insecurity gets the best of you. “I’m telling you, you will have every eye in the place.”

“I doubt it.” You sigh in the mirror and smooth your hands over the sequined dress one more time. “But that’s okay. I don’t want every set of eyes…”

“I know what set of eyes you want on you.” Your taste in men is your own, and Ginger won’t fault you for it, but she wonders why Jack. “It might do the man good to know that he’s got competition.” You don’t believe her when she says that it’s more telling that Jack doesn’t hit on you, but it’s the truth.

“He doesn’t, though.” Shrugging, you turn away from the mirror and decide to just go on with the night. Wishing won’t make it real and Jack Daniels barely looks at you. Even though you’ve partnered on cases, spend time together in and out of the office, and are arguably friends in every true sense? You’ve always wanted more with him. The only person who knows is Ginger, though, and you prefer to keep it that way since Jack will never return your affection. “And that’s…it is what it is. Even if you’re the only person I dance with tonight, it’ll still be fun.”

“Wearing that dress?” Ginger snorts as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’ll have the faith for both of us, how about that?” She knows that Jack won’t be able to resist you tonight, not when she’s lined up a few of the junior agents to dance with you already. It’s time that Jack settles down and finds some happiness, and what better time than the New Year?

******

While you easily could have had the party at Statesman considering the size of the grounds, Champ wouldn’t hear of it. He’s hosting the damn thing himself come hell or high water, in his favourite suit with his wife dressed to the 9’s in her flapper dress, and more caterers than you’ve ever seen in your life all making his early twentieth century coal baron’s mansion look as resplendent as the day it was built. The place is palatial, with a ballroom so big that the band he’s hired looks tiny in one corner despite being six-men strong. It’s music and liquor and appetizers passing by on trays when you and Ginger walk through the door, and you gasp at how nice it all looks.

“I know he does it every year,” you sigh to your best friend. “But the theme is always different and I swear somehow the house always looks better on new year’s.”

“Champ does know how to throw one hell of a party.” She agrees, snagging two glasses of champagne from a waiter as she walks by. Her own sleek flapper dress is a vivid purple, making her beautiful skin glow and for tonight, she’s wearing contacts. Her short hair is perfectly styled, a cap like illusion, highlighted with the crystal headband she’s picked. “To a New Year we will never forget.” She hands you one glass and adds, “or regret.”

“You’re certainly optimistic.” You flash her and grin and tap the rim of your glass against hers. “Finally going to talk to Alicia or is this just positive vibes?” It’s been two years since Ginger started crushing on the woman who supervises Statesman campus tours and visitor experience, but she hasn’t made a move yet. Being frozen in place with someone you care about is something the two of you have in common.

“Positive vibes.” She huffs, rolling her eyes and trying to change the subject. “Look! There’s Tequila!” She waves the younger agent over to where you are standing. “You made it! Didn’t think you were ever gonna get back from Brazil, or if you wanted to.” She adds with a grin.

“Those are two very different questions.” Tequila agrees with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. Did he have to come back? Sure. But did he want to leave the comfort and luxury of that beautiful woman’s bed? Not at all. “But I would not have missed dancing with you ladies for the world,” he adds with a wink. He’s very much in on Ginger’s plan, after all, and is looking forward to the fireworks it will bring.

You fluster slightly at his words, but Ginger knows that you don’t have your cap set on Tequila. You just don’t handle compliments well. “You’ll have to get in line.” Ginger warns him with a smirk. “As good as Rye looks tonight, every man in here is going to want a dance. After I dance with her first.”

“Well I reckon I’ll have to be second, then.” Tequila puts in a playful pout. “But only because I would never deny Miss Ginger Ale gettin to be first.” He smiles again and tips his hat, having opted to wear his best Stetson with an elegant Kingsman suit. “You don’t have to,” you insist, knowing Tequila always has more choices of dance and bedroom partners than he could ever feasibly make his way through. “I’m sure you have other people you want to dance with tonight.”

“No one important.” Tequila smirks as he drags his eyes up and down your outfit and whistles slowly. “And no one nearly as pretty.” He promises.

“Liar.” Though you roll your eyes at him, you don’t protest anymore than that. He’s your friend, after all. And if he wants to waste his time dancing with you, you’ll just enjoy it. Tequila’s a fantastic dancer, after all.

“Never lie to you, honey.” Tequila croons, taking your hand and lifting it to his lips. “Lie about what?” The voice comes from your left and all eyes swing that way.

“Jack!” Normally you know he’s coming. The smell of earthy, expensive cologne and the tap-click-shuffle of his boots on polished floors. The soft humming he gets up to when he’s pleased with himself, not quite melodic but endearing because it means he’s happy. But you sensed none of that just now, too caught up in the band playing and the fragrant flowers and the tickle of bubbly in your nose and throat. “Nothing. We were just talking about dancing…” He looks like a dream, and it makes you sick to your stomach and elated all at once. Another night of watching him fawn over every woman but you is what you’ve resigned yourself to putting up with, but it’s just rude of him to look so damn handsome in that black velvet double breasted suit and sleek black Stetson while he does it.

“Dancing, hum?” His eyes narrow slightly at the grip Tequila has on your hand and he wants to reach out and slap it away, but he just shoots everyone an easy grin. “Ready to cut a rug tonight, eh?”

"I guess so." The shyness that threatens to shoot straight through you is knocked off kilter by Ginger, who hoots in response. "She's got her dance card all filled up already, Whiskey. Should've gotten here earlier," she tells him with a smirk.

His mustache ticks, it’s the only change to his facial expression. “I’m sure Rye can squeeze me in.” His dark amber eyes slide over to you and swipe up and down your body. “Can’t you, sugar?”

"Of course." You'd throw over the whole goddamn list for him. Besides, you have no idea what Ginger could possibly mean by saying your 'card' is full. One dance with her and one with Tequila isn't a full anything. "Of course I can."

“Good. Then how about I refresh you ladies’ drinks?” Jack asks, slapping Tequila on the back a little rougher than necessary. “Come help me with that.”

"Sure." Tequila grunts, throwing you a confused expression like he can't figure out why the hell Jack needs help getting champagne when waiters with trays are everywhere, but he shoots Ginger a secret smirk before following Jack into the next room where the open bar is set up.

“Tonight will be perfect.” Ginger predicts with a smug grin as she watches the two men walk towards the open bar. .

“What the hell are you doin’, flirtin’ with Rye?” Jack’s easy grin falls away and his brows knit together as soon as his back is turned to you. “You know that girl ain’t your type.”

"I can't be nice to my friend?" Tequila asks, pretending to be positively aghast that Jack would suggest he's up to anything else. One hand ever goes to his chest with a dramatic gasp.

Jack’s eyes cut towards the other agent, a frown on his face. “It’s one goddamn thing to be nice, it’s another to flirt.”

"When did I flirt?" The younger agent counters, knowing full well that's what he was doing but not about to admit it because he wants to make Jack stew.

“You were flirtin’ the second you can outta your momma, but you gotta learn there’s certain girls you don’t do that shit with.” Jack growls, stopping in front of the bar and holding up two fingers. “Double 62 Triple Barreled.” He orders, wanting one of the rare whiskeys that Champ had broken out tonight. “And two champagnes.”

"Now, why is that, Jack?" Tequila hums, looking down at his friend. Jack isn't too much shorter than him, but just enough to annoy the older agent on occasion. "Why is Rye one of those girls?"

“Because…” that’s where his argument ends, because there’s not really a reason beyond his own feelings. “It’s…unprofessional.” He decides. “She’s an agent for Christ’s sake.”

Tequila snorts at this string of logic, accepting his drink from the pretty bartender with a wink and sliding a large bill into the tip glass on the bar top before looking back at Jack. "That's a load of horse shit and you know it, Daniels. You fucking know it."

He does know it, but he snatches his own drink up and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He hates that his stomach twists and he wonders if you had been flirting back. Looking over his shoulder at where you are standing, he clenches his jaw at the tassels that are swaying every time you move. “Don’t get her damn hopes up.” He takes a sip of his whiskey. “We both know you ain’t gonna fuck her.”

"Nor does she want me to." This is gonna be a hell of a lot easier than he and Ginger thought, if Jack is always so fuckin wound up over you and he only just arrived for the night. "I ain't the one she has her eye on and everybody with eyes knows it."

Jack ignores that, huffing to himself as he tries to hid the fucking jealousy that curls in his gut at whoever you do have your eye on. Lucky son of a bitch. “No fuckin’ talkin’ to you, hardheaded S.O.B.” The champagne glasses are in front of him and he downs the rest of the drink to slap the crystal glass down and snatch up the flutes. Turning around without another word and stalking across the room towards you and Ginger.

It's only one room he has to cross, but by the time he gets there, Agent Brandy has sidled up beside you and Ginger and has his fingers ever so subtly on your elbow while bends his head and puts all his focus directly on you.

Halfway across the room, Jack jerks to a halt and growls, shaking his head as he resumes the walk and forces a moderately friendly smile on his face. “Didn’t think you’d be back from Korea, Don.” He interrupts as he arrives back at your group.

"Two days ago." Brandy flashes a smile in Jack's general direction but keeps his focus on you. "Glad I made it back in time, too. Champ throws a hell of a party."

His eye twitches but Jack nods. “Yeah he does. Shoulda brought that little gal you were seein’. Brandy. Brenda right? Or was it Bambi?” He shrugs. “Maybe all of them at once, knowin’ you.”

"Now don't be unkind, Jack." Brandy's eyes cut over to the older agent and Brandy offers what could be considered a modestly dramatic pout. "Or Rye might think the worst of me and throw me over for that dance I just got promised."

Jack seethes beneath the smile on his face. “Would hate for that to happen.” He lies, handing Ginger one of the glasses and then offers the other to you.

The glass is offered with a smile and you thank Jack, savoring even the tiniest moment of contact between brushing fingers as he hands it over. It's probably bordering on pathetic, how long you've carried this torch for Jack, and it seems like Ginger is really trying to encourage you tonight to come out of your shell tonight but you just don't know. As nice as everyone is being, it doesn't feel right. The only thing that feels right is when you're around Jack. It's just a damn shame that he doesn't feel the same.

It’s almost painful how the simple, innocent touch affects him. Now visceral his reaction is. Only the training that Statesman has given him keeps him from showing anything. “Well,” he hates to tear himself away, but he can’t be around you for too long. “I better go talk to Champ about some cases he wants worked tomorrow.” He offers.

"It's a party," you remind him, smile flickering as he steps back. Obviously the small touch that you'll be savoring for the rest of the night has had the opposite effect on him. But there's no need to show that. Not when it's fully expected that he doesn't want to be around you when there are plenty of other people to talk to and women to dance with. "Don't work too hard, okay?"

“Never do,” he nods at everyone and turns around and skedaddles over to Champ like his pants are on fire.

"Come on," Ginger loops her arm through yours and lends Brandy a smirk that you don't notice — you're too busy trying not to look after Jack. "Let's go dance, honey. The night is young and we are looking far too good not to show off."

Champ eyes Jack as he stops by his side. “Figured you’d have a gal in your arms by now.” He huffs as he reaches out to shake Jack’s hand. “Losing your touch?” Jack snorts. “When have I ever lost my touch?” He asks, pointedly refusing to look back over towards you. “Just surveying my prospects.”

"And how is Agent Rye this evening?" Champ doesn't even have to look to know that that's where Jack has just come from. He blew into the room so quickly that it's the only explanation for the fire in his heels.

“Don’t you start with me.” Jack groans, shaking Champ’s hand and huffing. “Far as I know, she’s dandy.”

"Why should I not start?" Champ knows damn well why not, but he enjoys riling up his friend. "Somebody beat me to the punch?"

“Every-goddamn-body here tonight is actin’ like they’ve never seen the woman in a dress.” He snorts, complaining about it even though he has already memorized the way the damned sequined dress clings to your curves and enhances them in ways that should be criminal. “It’s damned ridiculous and borderline workplace harassment.”

Smirking, Champ pours two glasses of his preferred Statesman 1972 Select, savoring the smoked cherry notes from that particular year. He hands one cut crystal glass over to Jack with his tongue set firmly in his cheek. "You know you'd be a hell of a lot less mad if you just asked the lady to dance your damn self."

The glare Jack cuts Champ is withering and he turns his head as he takes a sip, refusing to rebuff the remark. It seems like everyone is taking the piss with him tonight as Eggsy would say. (edited)

"She's allowed to have fun, ya know." Champ goes on, humming the thought as though the glare Jack just shot him wouldn't have struck a lesser man dead in his tracks. "Damn shame she hasn't set her cap on anyone. Big family dreams, that gal has. Always has. It'll be a damn shame when she finally decides to hang up her pistols and have a family, but I won't let her get farther than the training ring. Too good of an agent to just let her retire."

“Is there a point to your ramblings?” Jack grumbles. “Or are you just spouting shit tonight?”

"Do what I want in my own house." The older man chuckles heartily and claps Jack on one shoulder. "Got a couple of jobs to start the new year with. Come see me tomorrow and we'll figure out which one's yours."

He’s being dismissed and since Champ is also giving him hell, Jack quickly nods and walks off. Trying to walk around the ostentatious ballroom without looking at you. “Hello handsome.” A perfectly manicured hand drapes itself over his shoulder and the scent of gardenias and sandalwood fills his nostrils. “Tiffany.”

Like a bloodhound on a trail, you spot it from across the ballroom without even trying to. Twirling around with Ginger, your eyes catch sight of the gorgeous, skinny, leggy blonde who has let herself drape over Jack's side and you sigh. Deflate is probably the right word, but you remind yourself it was never going to happen anyway and just hold on to Ginger as the song comes to an end.

“What’s a tall, dark, handsome drink of water like you doin’ all by your lonesome?” She purrs, making him hide the wince he had at the put on accent of hers. She’s as southern as tofu and yet she tries to make it sound like she’s grown up around here. Still, she’s a distraction and the best part about it is that there’s no emotional strings. “Looks like I should be buyin’ you a drink, darlin’.”

"I wish you would," she puts on a too-high giggle and bats eyelashes heavy with mascara and augmented with false hairs. Laying it on thick, she pushes in even closer and lets her body fit against his with nothing left to the imagination.

Jack doesn’t feel anything but he paints a cocky smirk on his face as he turns to her. “Then let me go get something for you, what do you want, darlin’?”

“Champagne, of course,” she simpers, never once considering the fact that she’s at a party for a whiskey distillery. Hell, she hadn’t even dressed for the theme.

Tiffany hangs out at the bar Statesman regularly hangs out at. A groupie because she knows everyone there makes good money. He’d bet his bottom dollar she conned Scotch into bringing her.

“Some party.” Is her attempt at conversation, putting more effort into showing off her cleavage than completing sentences. “You distillery boys sure know how to treat your gals.”

“Of course we do.” Jack’s smile is wicked, but it’s a part of the persona he adopts when he is working a target, it’s not real. “Any gal of mine deserves to be treated right.”

“Is that an invitation?” She knows who Jack is. Knows the civilian job title he’s been at Statesman Distillery. Even if she knew what it was all a front for, she likely wouldn’t care. She might just try harder if she knew the real wealth being flung around between a lot of these people.

“Now sweetheart, I’m good for a night or two.” Jack drawls. “But I’ve got a lot of leavin’ left to do.” He hums, quoting the country song.

The pout on Tiffany’s face is both dramatic and pronounced, but seeing that he’s immovable in that point — and knowing his reputation — she makes a small sound of frustrated disgust before flouncing away. Apparently annoyed at having wasted her time on a line cowboy.

The huff that Jack lets out is one of pure relief. Happy that he won’t have to deal with her again for at least half the night. She might make her way back around depending on successful she is. It’s shameful to say, but most of the agents here have dallied with her, including Jack. However, he had only taken her home to satisfy a physical need. He slowly makes his way back to the bar to order another drink, not champagne.

His line of sight is unfortunate as he saunters back toward the open bar. Looking back out to the dance floor, he can see Tequila twirling you around and the two of you laughing as the younger man holds you close and mock-sings along with the band.

Jack’s frown is deep, furrowing his brow as he cuts his eyes away in a jealous huff.

It goes round and round like that for most of the night. One dance partner after the next sweeps you across the dance floor but never the partner you want. One beautiful woman after another sidles up to Jack and bats their eyelashes but none are the woman he actually wants at his side. It’s a three-ring-circus. A whirlwind. But you never seem to get close enough to each other to see that neither of you is actually having any fun.

It’s easy to have an arm around a woman, easy to smile and flirt. His eyes continuously find you on the dance floor. Ginger had been right apparently, you had a damn dance card that was slap full. He hisses under his breath, wondering how many of those men knew you bit your thumb when you were working out a problem or that your eyes changed to a lighter shade when you were feeling slightly bashful.

There isn’t a single night of your life where you’ve gotten this much attention from this many different men — or this many different people period — and while it’s fun in a whirlwind sort of way, you do find yourself clock-watching. Wondering why your fellow agents all seem to be paying you so many compliments tonight and why you sort of feel like Cinderella at the ball without a hint of the real Prince Charming, the closer it gets to midnight the more you’re thinking of just going home. The last thing you want is to glance across the ballroom at midnight and see Jack tangled up in a midnight kiss with some petite redhead or statuesque model with perfect curls. You’ll be happier skipping out early and being in your pjs with a book at midnight than you will be witnessing that.

It’s fucking infuriating to have so many people come between him and you. Every dang time he untangles himself to break in on your dance with some partner, Ginger, Tequila or Champ waylay him. He’s never had such a hard time getting to chat with you and it’s making him slowly unravel his temper. “Ah Jack, there you are.” He sighs and paints on a smile when Champ claps his back and shoves a drink in his hand. “Forgot to mention somethin’….” His eyes slide away from you laughing as you are spun around, bitter to be stonewalled again.

“Well if it ain’t the gol’dern Belle of the Ball.” The voice you hear behind you is the one person you were hoping to avoid tonight, and as you’ve just finished dancing with one of the guys from the technology department who you didn’t even think knew your name, there’s no escaping. Agent Vodka is one of those older men who doesn’t realize that James Bond is just a character and that no one drags that persona into their everyday life. He routinely ‘flirts’ with you like he’s bestowing you a huge goddamn favor for even looking in your direction, and you were genuinely hoping to avoid him tonight.

Vodka is handsome in a classical sense, some would say a silver fox, if he had a better attitude. As it stands, there’s a confused tilt to his Stetson adorned head and he rakes his eyes up and down your body in a very calculated gaze. “You musta cleaned up for hours. Getting ready for a good night.”

“Sure. I guess so.” You nod, tone polite but dismissive. Vodka has a tendency to interpret friendly as begging for hands to be put on you, and the last thing you want to do is encourage him. “Happy new year, Vodka.”

“Seems like Whiskey and I have been the only ones not with you tonight.” He intones, smirking slightly. “Guess you was savin’ the best for last, huh? Since Jack’s hangin’ all over the ladies, I’ll step in and claim this dance.” He doesn’t ask for permission, just stepping up to you and grabbing your waist.

“That’s really okay.” Reeling backward, Vodka is strong but your self-defense training is a hell of a lot better, and you twist in his grip to make sure he can’t get a solid hold on you no matter how hard he tries. “Appreciate the offer,” you huff, trying to push him away. “But I was just heading home.”

“Oh don’t be that way.” Vodka huffs and manages to pull you close. “Believe me, dancin’ ‘s just a prelude to what we can do later.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t want to dance with you.” You push back against him again, leveraging your elbow against his side to loosen his grip with a sharp shot to his liver. This has gone too far and is hovering on ruining the night — which has been fairly fun despite its lack of your favorite cowboy and coworker.

“Jack-“ Ginger doesn’t bother apologizing as she taps his shoulder and points out to the dance floor. “Why don’t you go save Rye?” She huffs.

At this point it’s obvious that it’s a struggle. People are giving you extra space on the dance floor as they realize what’s happening but for whatever godforsaken reason, no one has stepped in yet. Probably because they’re too shocked that Vodka has finally crossed the line into being physically inappropriate instead of just saying uncomfortable things.

“Sugar, I’m sorry I’m late for our dance.” Jack slaps his hand down on Vodka’s shoulder and digs his fingers into the fleshy muscle. Getting satisfaction from the immediate change in the man’s stance. “Don’t mind if I interrupt, do ya?” His tone is friendly, but there’s a warning woven in the words. Dark eyes turn towards you as you quickly step back from the other man’s grasp.

“Wouldn’t have thought you’d keep a dame waitin’.” Vodka mumbles, all sheepishness and apology now that he realizes he’s infringed on another man’s territory.

Jack doesn’t rip into the man like he wants to, everyone else is starting to relax and resume the party. “You probably need to lay off the liquor.” He tells the other agent, not really caring for the man either.

“You forget who we work for, Daniels?” Vodka huffs, giving Jack the stink eye. “Not like you go easy, either.”

“Last time I checked, I took no for an answer, Robbins.” Jack turns his back after letting Vodka go and sweeps you into his arms, effectively dismissing him.

The room damn near erupts into applause, chattering all around you erupting out of uncomfortable silence, but you don’t hear it. You don’t even see Tonic and Champ escorting Vodka out of the ballroom with the utmost immediacy so the dressing-down can be vocal and private. All you see is Jack, and all you hear is Jack. Even as quiet as he is, the huff he gives as he scoops you up and twirls you away speaks volumes. “Jack, you—you didn’t have to—” Of course, if he hadn’t, you’re not sure you could’ve gotten away so cleanly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t think a thing of it, sugar.” Although he has a few harsh words rolling around for everyone who didn’t step in. It’s like they were waiting for something. Alcohol’s done made their brains addled. “Although my own apologies for manhandling you to get you outta that sticky situation.” Even though he’s apologizing, he starts to lead you in a dance.

“I really don’t mind.” And that is the understatement of the goddamn year, as you instinctively melt against Jack the second he starts to move.

“Still…..” There’s finally a bit of happiness to the evening and he smirks down at you. “Now you can say your dance card has been filled.”

“Could’ve left Vodka off it completely,” you grumble lightly, but you still end up smiling. When Jack looks at you in almost any way you just light up from the inside. It’s instinctual.

“Don’t know what got into him.” Jack huffs, even though he’s saved you from encounters like that before.

“His namesake, most likely.” He had smelled like it, at least. A fact which added no charm whatsoever to your encounter. “Really, Jack. Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Jack nods. “Sugar, you know that I know you are a capable agent. You coulda mopped the floor with him, but I’ll always give you whatever help you need.”

“I prefer not to bring hand-to-hand combat to Champ’s front door if I can help it.” If you let yourself really chew on the fancy, you could imagine Jack as rescuing you like a knight in armor. Like you were his to protect. “Not sure how much he’d appreciate that, regardless of how capable I am.”

“I think you’d find Champ more forgivin’ than you think.” He snorts, reminding himself of his own major fuck up just a few years prior. Champ had forgiven him and allowed him to regain the trust and confidence that he had destroyed through his own bling grief and rage.

“Maybe.” Jack certainly knows your boss better than you do even after several years with the agency, so you’ll differ from him. “But I’m glad to not have to find out. And…” The rest of the thought gets swallowed, and you cut your eyes away from him in embarrassment. There are some things better left unsaid and normally you’re so good at keeping your mouth shut.

“And?” Jack frowns slightly, not liking that you are holding back with him. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“It’s nothing,” you promise him, shaking your head and acting like it isn’t the biggest, most honest confession in the world from you that sets your cheeks on fire and makes you even more bashful around him. “I’m just…glad I got to dance with you. That’s all.”

“You didn’t think you were going to dance out the old year without ole Jack now, did ya?” He sounds pouty that you would even think that.

"Honestly?" Shrugging slightly even with one of his hands splayed across your back and the other holding yours tenderly against his chest, you wonder how ever you ever manage to keep a damn thing to yourself with him around when your mind just sort of seems to melt in his presence. "I was going to split and ring in the new year in my bed with the book I've been reading."

Jack frowns and shakes his head, not agreeing with your plans in the slightest. “Now that seems like a waste.” He draws. “Mighty fine night to spend readin’ a book. You should be doin’ other things.”

"Not a lot of other options to pick from," you mumble, trying to force your mind away from immediately conjuring the mental images and repeated daydreams of doing just about everything under the sun with — and to — him.

Jack wants to protest that, but the song starts to close out and you almost stop in your tracks. Obviously believing that he will end the dance now that Vodka is gone and the set is done. Instead of dropping your hands, he pulls you tighter against him. “Is that why you wore a dress like that, sugar? ‘Cause you didn’t have any options?”

"Ginger picked it out." Wrongly assuming it to be an indictment of the choice, you frown reflexively and wonder why he's still holding on to you. The trouble is over and the song is done. Shouldn't he be finding someone better to spend his time with? "I know it's...it's not right. Flapper dresses are designed for women who look the opposite of me. But she insisted on sticking to the theme."

“Opposite of you?” He makes a face of utter confusion. “What are you talkin’ ‘bout? Dress looks good, fits you.” Maybe you have a shit ton of pins in the dress? His sweet wife would always have to pin her dresses to get them to fit right. Nearly every night they went out, he was helping her pin it just so.

Skinny is what you meant, but instead of saying so you just chew your lip and shake your head. Voicing that out loud would really just cement the ruination of the night and you don't want to do that. "Never mind," you insist instead. "I'm glad you like it." Even if he's just saying it to be nice, which you're sure he is, it's still nice to hear.

There’s something bugging him about the way you continuously quit talking and get around what you mean. The next song starts to play and Jack moves to that slightly faster tempo. “No one’s breakin’ in yet, sugar. So I’m keepin’ you unless you need a break?”

"No." Not from him. You would never, ever ask for a break from him. "No, I'm good." In fact, you've been so distracted by the rescue that you haven't noticed midnight creeping ever-closer. "I don't want a break."

Jack smiles, not the cocky smirk he adopts or the charming playboy facade that he uses on women like Tiffany. This is a genuine smile, one that makes his dimple show with a flash of white teeth and the crow’s feet around his eyes appear. “Then let’s dance, sugar.”

Champ chuckles when he sidles up beside Ginger with a fresh glass of champagne for each of them and his wife on his other arm, all ready to lead the midnight countdown after this song is over. "Took all damn night," he laughs to his co-conspirator. "And ya had to pull out the big gun with Vodka. But look at 'em."

“Man huffed and puffed at being used.” Ginger rolls her eyes and curls her lip. “But I promised him the Antarctic assignment. It will seem like punishment to everyone else and apparently he’s romancing one of the scientists down there.” Personally, she doesn’t see why anyone would be romanced by Vodka, but to each their own.

"It's for a damn good cause." Champ stifles a guffaw and even his wife looks amused at the way everything went down. "Everybody deserves to be happy, don't they? Even Vodka." It earns another snort from the older man and he aims a smirk at Ginger. "So what's the plan from here, Ging?"

“If Jack will get off his ass, there should be a kiss at midnight.” Ginger grins. “And maybe, just maybe, the dumbass will realize that it’s okay to want her. She wants him too.”

"Of course she does." Everybody knows that. Everybody with eyes and sense in their head, anyway. "He's just been stuck in the whole of his own grief for far too damn long. It's about time he broke free. Which is exactly why I went along with this plan of yours."

“I’m glad you did. Jack’s felt so guilty about actually developing feelings for Rye that he’s convinced himself that it’s wrong to flirt with her.” She takes a sip of her champagne. “When he breaks, it’ll be entertaining.”

"Entertaining for all of us." Grinning, Champ holds his glass out to his partner in crime in salute. "I sure as hell hope it happens right here for all of us to see."

Unaware that he’s being plotted against, Jack continues to hold you in his arms, taking you around the dance floor and trying to keep from asking too many questions that would potentially ruin his easy relationship with you. “Have you had fun? Other than Vodka? Your feet have to be killin’ you, all the dances you’ve been movin’ to.”

“It’s alright, I’ll have a hot bath and soak them. Aside from the one little interruption, everything’s been so nice.” This is the best part, without a doubt. Attention from other people is a novelty, the compliments and laughter a kind change of pace. But any time spent with Jack will always out do any other experience.

“A nice hot soak and a drink is always good to unwind.” Jack hums. “If other activities aren’t available.” The comment is warm, almost suggestive as he twists you around and then pulls you close again, feeling your softness against him and enjoying it.

It’s the worst kind of gut punch, hearing a comment like that from Jack, and your eyes are downcast when you curl back into his arms. It’s too unkind to be deliberate, but at the same time it’s such a careless comment that you just want to scream. He would never be intentionally cruel to you but the flirtatious tone of the comment is too much. “Maybe I should’ve gone with Vodka, then.”

Jack stiffens, frowning immediately and his blood pressure rises in anger. “What the fuck?” He hisses, the moment making him grip you tighter, almost the point of hurting you. “Why- you?” He’s at a loss for words right now.

“Well it’s the only offer I’ve gotten in…a year? Maybe more?” You shrug dismissively but his grip on you doesn’t allow for it, making your tone turn even more bitter in the process. He doesn’t get to get mad about who offers when he has no interest in himself. “Definitely more than a year, now that I think about it.”

“That wasn’t a goddamn offer.” He snorts. “It was a cowboy playin’ grab ass when his partner wasn’t willing.” He reminds you, dark eyes flashing angrily. “Otherwise known as assault.”

“And yet it’s still the only time any man has looked at me twice in more than a calendar year,” you hit back, practically hissing under your breath as embarrassed tears sting at your eyes. “Nobody’s exactly lining up to spend time with the fat girl except tonight which is Ginger’s doing. I know it is.” (edited)

The two of you are hissing back and forth, so preoccupied with your emotions that neither one of you are aware of the fact that the countdown for midnight has begun. The crowd around you starts to chant down from ten but Jack's too busy growling at you in anger. "Why are you so fuckin' quick to insult every goddamn person who decided to dance with you?"

“Because I know I’m right.” The two of you have never once torn into each other like this and while it breaks you’re heart, you’re so angry that lashing out is happening by instinct. It hurts so much more to be doubted by him and you can’t even express why. It’s devastating. “Do you even know what assignments they give me, Jack?” You hiss back, not hearing the shouts around you. “The ones where they need someone to be invisible! If they need someone plain and ignorable, they come straight to me. Do you know how much that fucking hurts? Because I’m good at it and that’s even worse than them just assuming. I’m excellent at not being noticed. At not being desired. It’s my fucking superpower. So no, I don’t think for a second that any of these dances were genuine moments of interest or offers for literally anything else. Because why would they be?”

His heart breaks and he's simultaneously enraged that you view yourself that way. "Five! Four! Thr—" He reaches up and grabs the back of your neck to yank you forward so your nose is less than an inch from his own. "You want a goddamn offer?" He snarls, losing all sense of reason when it comes to you and ready to prove how wrong you are. "Here's your fuckin' offer." Without another word, he drags you forward to plaster his lips against yours in an angry kiss.

It should feel terrible. It should make you so angry you slap him. It should make you feel a hell of a lot of nasty things, but instead what you feel is the undeniable melting of your own self against him, finally getting the only thing you’ve wanted since the day this infuriating cowboy sauntered into your life. Jack is firm under your hands, burning hot and intoxicatingly inviting in the way he does not pull away. You must have gotten so mad you blacked out, because this is impossible.

When you don’t push him away, when you don’t slap him, Jack growls. Using the soft sigh that you give to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth with another groan as the cheers and sing of Auld Lang Syne happens all around the two of you.

Either you’ve burst a blood vessel from being so angry and ashamed or this is the best dream you’ve ever had. Jack wraps both of his arms tight around you and you cling to him, fists dig into the arm of his suit jacket and the hair on the nape of his neck as you silently beg this hallucination never to end. You can live and die in this moment and tell yourself that it was more than a dream. You can imagine this is exactly how fiercely Jack kisses when he really wants to. When he wants someone.

The kiss has turned from an angry mashing of his lips against yours to a passionate mingling of your breath and tongues. You whimper and his entire body tighten with need. Overriding the portion of his brain that is screaming that this is a bad idea, that he is bad for you and continuing to kiss you as everyone else has moved into dancing now.

Neither one of you has realized that his hat has been knocked off, or that he’s drawn you so close your back has bowed, or even that you’ve entirely given up on needing to breathe in order to never have to stop kissing him. Years of repressed desire and soul-crushingly unrequited love are just being poured into every second you spend drowning in this impossible fantasy.

“Well damn.” Champ chuckles from his position on the dance floor with his lovely wife. “Didn’t expect that long of a show. Boy don’t stop soon, he’s gonna devour her right there in the middle of the floor.”

“That’s what happens when you repress your feelings for six goddamn years,” Ginger snorts in amusement. “Should I go interrupt them?”

“No.” Champ decides with a shake of his silvery head. “Leave ‘em. Don’t want the boy to get spooked before he makes up his mind what’s gonna happen next.”

“And he will.” Ginger agrees with that completely. Jack spooks faster than a newborn foal.

“He would, where she’s concerned. Boy has his heart in it and he’s been fightin’ it.” Champ agrees as his wife chuckles. “He will figure it out.” She promises. “Rye won’t let him walk away from this with a smile and a handshake.”

“I think she’d rather die than let him go, at this rate.” The smile on Ginger’s face is soft. Glad that her friend is finally getting everything she — you — have ever wanted. It really is only oxygen that makes the two of you pull apart, panting for breath with fingers curled into each other’s flesh and clothes like you’re hanging on for dear life.

Jack’s eyes are dark and searching as he looks at you. Looking for the answer to a question and when he finds what he’s looking for, he grabs your hand and starts to drag you off the dance floor.

“Jack?” The realization that that really just happened ignites a small panic in your chest and a riot in your mind, and the fact that Jack hasn’t let go of you or run off in disgust is only confusing you more.

He doesn’t speak, he can’t speak right now. The people on the floor just seem to part, moving out of his way as he guides you off the floor. He does squeeze your hand though.

“Jack?” The longer he goes without saying anything the higher the panic rises, but you cling to his hand all the way to the front door of Champ’s house where the front room has been transformed into a coat closet.

Jack doesn’t answer and spins you around to press you up against the wall, kissing you again. “Get your fuckin’ coat.” He demands roughly.

It’s a much briefer kiss but it leaves you breathless all the same, and the determination in his eyes makes you shiver and rush to obey. If this is what you’re going to get with him — just a few demanding kisses before he decides it was a mistake and turns you away? Then you’ll take it.

His hat is missing, Jack realizes when he goes to readjust it and frowns. Patting his head and looking around to see if it fell off around here, but it’s nowhere in sight. It’s a small price to pay, but he runs his hand through his hair as you rush back to his side. “We’re leaving.”

He doesn’t seem angry, but for the life of you there is no version of tonight that goes any further. Not in your mind. A conversation about how you shouldn’t have kissed him — or at least kissed him back, since you have a dim memory of his hand pulling you to him right before your mind went blank — or at least about how it was a mistake is bound to follow.

The second your hand is in his again, Jack is dragging you through the doors and down the stairs of the house to his Bronco. He’s parked close, thank god and he can barely get the door open before he’s grabbing your waist and practically throwing you up into the seat.

It shouldn't be a thrill to be lifted up and tossed around as though you weigh next to nothing, but there is something in Jack's singular determination and focus that tells you not to question or fight it. If he wants to manhandle you a little before whatever uncomfortable confrontation is bound to happen? Well, it's not as though you haven't literally fantasized about that scenario. At least now you have a frame of reference.

He’s holding onto his control, barely. Racing around the front of the vehicle and jumping in beside you. He can’t even talk to you as he starts the engine. Thankful that his place isn’t too far away as he throws the Bronco into gear and slings gravel as he spins out.

The most surprising part might be that he reaches for your hand as he drives. His fingers curl through yours and hold onto you on top of the gear shift, not letting you do your usual thing of shifting away or curling in on yourself in uncertainty.

There’s only two miles left to go. He grunts as he slows down to make the turn and your hand moves the shifter with him, making sure that he doesn’t squeeze it too hard as he goes through the gears.

He's driving to his own house. You've done this route yourself more times than you can count for a thousand different reasons. The apartment that you rent with your ample Statesman salary is well on the other side of Louisville and Ginger lives closer to you than to Jack, so it's not like you have any doubt where he's headed. When he pulls the Bronco down his long and winding driveway toward the large farmhouse he's called home for a decade already, your hand tightens slightly in his, nervous and wondering what will come next.

When he cuts the engine, there’s a half a second before he opens the door. Almost speaking but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s climbing out to walk around the truck to open the door.

"I wish you would say something." Even if he's helping you out of the car and holding onto your hand, you can't figure out what's going on in his head. Not having any clue is making you a little panicky the longer it goes on.

Jack stops, two steps away from the path to the front door. “Do you want to come inside?” There’s a fear that you don’t want this. That you are not on the same page as he is.

He's not angry. Or upset anymore, that you can tell. But the determination in his gaze is still there for something that you can't quite put your finger on. "Yes," you decide, nodding as you step toward both him and the house. "I do." Whatever happens, you're hopeful it won't be bad.

You said yes. Your words spur him on again and he’s off like a shot, dragging you behind him. The biometric lock is a godsend. There’s no fumbling for a key at the door as he hustles you inside and slams it behind you both, pressing you against it as he attempts to devour your mouth once more.

This was not the reaction you expected. Not in any way. Not even when he had kissed you twice at Champ’s house before hauling you over to his place with the fires of hell scorching his toes. Anybody else might have read the signals, but not you. Not with the surprised squeal you let out or the soft moan that follows it — both completely outside of your control.

You’re alone now and this time, Jack doesn’t keep his hands on your waist. Both hands grab firm handfuls of your delightful round ass and squeezes as he presses into you. His painfully hard cock grinding into the soft pouches of your hips.

Because of the complete blanket of disbelief you're living under, it takes you longer than you're proud of or will ever admit to realize what is pressing against your hip. It's the first throbbing twitch from under his perfectly tailored suit that has your eyes flying open and both of your hands pressing firmly on his shoulders, breaking the kiss as you gasp in surprise.

“What- I thought-“ Jack’s frown is one of utter confusion as he drops his hands and steps back from you. Hating the feeling of rejection and suddenly wondering if he’s made a fucking fool of himself by getting twisted in knots by a woman who doesn’t actually want him. “‘m sorry.”

"Why?" The incredulous question is out of your mouth before you can stop it, and the confusion marring both of your faces makes you suck in a deep breath. "I—I just—I'm surprised," you admit, as damned foolish as that makes you sound. Fucking shocked is what you are, but you don't want to be labor the point and ruin whatever is happening.

He feels foolish and embarrassed, like he’s been caught with his hand in a candy jar. Reaching up and running his hand through his hair, he blows out a breath. “You said you wanted to come in.” He reasons. “I- what did you think would happen?”

"I—I don't know," you admit, feeling even more ridiculous than he does. Your back is still against his front door, crying out loud. "I ruled out you still being mad at me after you kissed me again but I didn't think..." Gesturing at him lamely, you blow out a breath and rub at the back of your neck. "I'm not saying I want to stop, I was just surprised." If this is the only chance you're going to get with him? You're going to take it and run with it as long as it lasts.

He frowns again, wondering how you could want him and yet be surprised when he wants to take you to bed. “So what do you want, sugar? Because I’m feeling like a penny at the bottom of a pan, rattled.”

The expression cracks the tension, at least for you, and an unexpectedly bright and beaming smile graces your lips as you reach for him boldly and find to your own delight and continued surprise that he doesn't draw away. "What I want is...a long shot." It's more than that, but you're downplaying your own fears to a rather extreme degree right now. Trying to be brave. "But...what are the odds you were thinkin' about taking me upstairs?"

“House odds.” Jack rasps out, knowing that the odds are always in the house’s favor when playing at a casino. “Pondered the idea of strippin’ you down right here and making you squeal against the door, but then tossin’ you over my shoulder and haulin’ you to my large, luxurious bed also has its merits.”

You genuinely have to shut your eyes to steady yourself, exhaling long and deep and praying you aren't actually moaning out loud like you are in your head. As it stands, both images he paints have your knees weak and your body shivering. "Eith—um—either one," you manage to stammer out, eyelashes parting so hesitantly that they flutter like wings. "Either one is good."

“Sexy as you look, sugar….” Now that he knows that you are on the same page as him, a little bit of the cocky swagger is back. “Thinkin’ it’d be a goddamn shame not to spread you out.” Despite your stature, Jack tucks his shoulder and scoops you up over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, bolting for the stairs.

"Holy hell, Jack!" A nervous shout and a squeak escape you when he picks you up, and you cling to his jacket as he carries you through the house you've visited innumerable times before.

Chuckling, Jack slaps your ass with his free hand as he ambles up the stairs easily. “Don’t be nervous, sugar, I won’t drop you.”

This time you definitely do moan out loud, too taken by surprise to stop the sound or swallow it before it can come out of your mouth and you know Jack heard.

He grins to himself, slapping your ass again and is rewarded with another moan. “Mmmmhm.” He chuckles. “Rye likes a little bit of light spanking. Noted.”

"Pretty sure I'll like anything you do," you admit ruefully, though you're quickly feeling the constraints of embarrassment fall away as he reaches his bedroom door. This is real. This is really happening.

"I'll keep that in mind when I hogtie you to the bed and lick whipped cream off your body." He teases, kicking open the slightly ajar door and striding into the room to toss you down on the bed like a character in a romance novel. Right now, he doesn't know if he's supposed to be the hero or the villain, feeling a bit like both as his rough handling of you as him immediately reaching for your ankles to pull off your shoes in his eagerness to see you naked in his bed.

“See?” You huff at him, heavy breathing coming from nothing but an undeniable surplus of desire. “That actually sounds sexy coming from you.” Everything does, but his quick fingers are divesting you of your shoes and that reminds you how your Spanx is part of this undressing process — which is the single least sexy thing in the world.

Jack rips off his tuxedo jacket and tosses it down on the floor. Climbing up onto the bed and over you to press against you fully, pinning you down to the bed with a groan. Quickly capturing your lips again in a frenzied kiss.

It makes no damn sense to you, but you’re not going to question it anymore. If Jack could have literally anyone in the world but for tonight he chooses you, then you’re just going to make sure he doesn’t regret it. That decision on your part sort of pulls you out of your nervous shock, and all at once your hands are pulling open his tie and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt with enthusiasm.

“There we go.” Jack groans when you stop acting shocked and start acting. Your hands on his body makes him shake and he can’t help but rock his hips forward. “Sugar.”

He could probably call you whatever he wanted and you would just go with it, but hearing him call you Sugar — that sickly sweet name he favors so much yet seems to bestow on you so rarely? It feels like you might melt so deeply into his plush mattress that you will never get up again.

Moving from your lips takes sheer willpower but he wants to explore more of you. One hand bracing on the bed and the other sliding up to squeeze your breast as he kisses down your chin and to the soft, vulnerable skin of your throat. “Driving me crazy, baby girl.” He coos, voice rough and lusty. “So goddamn pretty.”

No one who has ever met Jack would be surprised to learn how mouthy the cowboy is in bed. He’s mouthy in every other aspect of his life so frankly it would be pretty strange if this was the exception. Still, to hear those words said to you is beyond your wildest dreams. It’s surreal in the most sensational of ways. Even when you had dreamed of being with Jack, you had never dreamed of him praising you.

He groans when your fingernails bite into the skin on his chest as you hastily push the shirt opened. “Tigress, huh?” He growls, squeezing your tit again, a little harder this time and his hard cock pulses against your inner thigh. “Don’t worry, sugar. I’m just as goddamn eager as you. But ‘ole Jack likes a bit of wildness.” He bites down on your shoulder as he chuckles. “We’ll have ourselves one hell of a rodeo tonight.”

If you even knew where half this boldness came from, you might be a little embarrassed. But given the fact that you never thought this would happen, it mostly just feels like you're telling yourself not to waste the chance. Lightning never strikes the same place twice and this is your lightning strike, so you're going to lean into the whole thing if that's what he really wants. Your nails strike a path down his chest but get caught in his undershirt, a fact which makes you huff in frustration and search blindly for the hem to tear off that layer of clothing as well.

Jack groans and finally decides to give you what you want. Pulling back long enough to finish pulling his arms out of the shirt sleeves, he tears the undershirt off and throws it off the side of the bed to reveal his chest. Unable to resist pulling your dress down to pop your breast out and diving back down to wrap his mouth around a nipple.

"Oh fuck." It's a move you weren't expecting, but your back arches off the mattress instinctively to push your chest up and invite him to take and take and take — just as much as he wants to. If you were coherent enough to suggest it you would try to start wiggling out of your dress but as it is the only thing you can focus on is the heat of him surrounding you and the way every place he kisses you seems to catch on fire immediately at the press of his lips.

He suckles, bites and then licks the hard nub in his mouth like he’s gorging himself on you. Because he is. Hands searching for the zipper to your gorgeous dress. It’s beautiful, but it needs to be beautiful on his floor.

"If you want it off, you have to let me sit up," you manage to huff out, barely able to do more than pant at the way he's clearly trying to devour your tits first.

Groaning in protest, his lips are twisting in a pout as he pulls away. Panting breathlessly as he itches to launch himself at you again. “Hurry up, sugar.”

Your hands are shaking when you reach for the zipper, pulling it down and carefully undoing the clasp at the top before letting the heavily sequined cocktail dress slip off of your arms so you can maneuver it over your head. Half-naked in Jack's bed with panties so soaked you could probably wring them out is not how you expected to end this night, but here you are.

“Fuck.” Jack frowns at the tight shapewear he’s met with. “My present’s a little too wrapped for my liking, baby girl.” He hisses, curling his fingers under the layer to start stripping it off of you. “Want you naked.”

"It was the only way that dress was gonna look halfway decent," you mumble, shifting under him and definitely avoiding looking him in the face while he peels the Spanx off of you. It's a little bit too intimate even for the man you've wanted to be intimate with for years — to the point of making you feel completely naked even when you still have your bra and panties on.

He scoffs, nearly ready to whip his knife out and start slicing the material. “Bullshit.” He huffs, happy there’s just the bra and he uses two fingers to flick the four hooks open. “You don’t need nothin’.” Instead of explaining, he’s diving back into your tits while one hand dips into your panties.

“Fuck, Jack!” Instead of a tight reaction of shock, this time he’s rewarded with a moan and your legs falling open for him as the fingers of one hand dig through his thick hair to scratch along the base of his scalp. If he wants you to be bold, you’ll be bold. You’ll be whatever Jack wants as long as you just get to be in his bed for one night.

Jack moans against your tits, incredibly turned on by the pure moxy he’s always loved in you. Despite your utterly untrue view on yourself, you are sassy, sweet and sexy. That’s why he’s unable to resist now that he’s tasted you. Once he’s teased one breast enough, he switches to the other. “Gonna eat you up, sugar. Devour you whole.”

"All yours." It's sort of unintentional, the vow-like nature of the thing, but you're just being honest. You've really been Jack's since the day you met him. Even if it's taken so many damn years to get the two of you into this situation together, it's still the truth. "Whatever you want, handsome."

He groans, fingers sliding through the sweet slick that is covering your folds. “Want you.” He mumbles as he starts to slide his finger deeper, pressing against your entrance.

It's not even in your mind to ask why when he's splitting you open on two thick fingers like that, and you swear if that's how this night is starting you might actually ascend directly to some higher plain if you get to actual sex. "Ha—fuck— you have me."

“Mmmmmm.” He licks your nipple “Not yet.” He pouts, pulling his fingers back out of you to plunge them in again. “But I will, sugar. Cum for me and then I’ll have you like I’ve been dreamin’.”

The curse you groan out is nearly incoherent, more of an agreement than anything else but you'll be damned if you let this moment be anything less than memorable for both of you. Jack hovers over you and you wind your arms around him to encourage him to continue sucking on your tits while his fingers piston in and out of your pussy with determination. You know it won't take too much longer before your legs start to shake, and as if Jack knows it just as intuitively, he curls his fingers inside you and you gasp out a moan of his name.

His teeth nip at your sensitive flesh as he hisses. Feeling how tight your pussy squeezes his fingers and imagines his cock inside you. Tight and fucking scorching hot, just like he had imagined with his hand wrapped around his cock in the shower. “That’s it, pretty girl.” He coos before he sucks on your nipple again. Moaning when you arch up, writhing under him and making the prettiest, most desperate sounds he’s heard in a long time.

No one who has ever been in this bed has ever left it with any remaining doubts about Jack’s skills as a lover, and while you knew that before? Now you understand it oh-so-very deeply. His fingers pump into you mercilessly, curling at just the right angle to make you cry out in pleasure in every pass, and yet somehow he’s managed to keep the angle of that curl perfect while still holding them apart — stretching your eager pussy open and making sure you’re ready to take every inch of him. All of those intricacies combine with the dedication attention he is lavishing on your tits, and when the tense coil of restraint in your belly snaps it explodes into a thousand white-hot stars behind your eyes as you cum for him.

You’re gorgeous when you fall apart, just like he knew you would be. Keeping his fingers moving, he watches, enthralled with you as you cry out his name in a pitch that has his cock throbbing. The hot gush of your pleasure makes his fingers squelch inside you and he groans out your name while he starts to slow down the rhythm of his hand, letting you float down from your orgasm, drawing it out for you.

“Holy hell…” When your eyes open again you’re completely boneless beneath him, giggling softly at the light-as-air feeling in your body that never ever feels lighter than anything.

Dragging his wet fingers out of your cunt is his own personal kind of hell, but the urge to taste you is too great. Watching you with dark eyes as he slips his two fingers into his mouth with a lusty groan.

“Take your pants off.” The way you groan it is nearly an order but you definitely meant it to be begging, though at this point you don’t care. Especially when he arches an eyebrow at you and smirks. “Take your fucking pants off, Jack.”

Chuckling, he shuffles off the bed to oblige you. “Never let it be said I don’t follow orders, sugar.” He winks as he kicks off the tuxedo pants and hooks his fingers into his boxer briefs. “These too?”

“The fact that you even wear underwear is a shock,” you tease, motioning for him to continue stripping and trying — but probably not succeeding — to not stare.

He smirks. “Had to contain the beast for once.” He winks as he drags the tight material down. “Don’t wear ‘em normally.”

The Beast is probably as good a name as any, and you have to swallow a groan when he frees his throbbing cock — already damp with precum. It’s a wonder he can contain it, and you’re caught in between wanting to bend forward and taste him or just lying back for him to have his way with you. Curiosity and a curtain of lust win out on the short struggle, and you lean forward to take the purple head of his cock in your mouth just after he climbs back onto the bed.

“Fuck!” Jack moans out loudly and pushes your head away gently after a moment. “Baby, baby…” he pants. “You keep that up and this rodeo will be over before it starts.”

“Sorry…” Embarrassment burns your cheeks, and you shift back to get under his blankets. “I just had to know…”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Jack huffs. Kneeling on the bed and pulling the covers away as you hide your body away from his eyes. “Just don’t want to embarrass myself by blowing my load because of your pretty mouth before I can hear you scream my name.”

“I already have,” you remind him, a softness in your tone belied by the heat in both of your eyes. “Guess I might have to be a little louder this time.”

“Only if it’s right in my ear.” Jack wraps his hand around his cock and strokes it as he reaches for your thigh. “Buried deep inside that little cunt and feeling like I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

It goes without saying that you’re both clean. All Statesman agents are required to have clean bills of health in order to be on the roster for missions and you’re both active agents. “I—have an IUD.” Is what you tell him instead, shivering a little at the reality of what is about to happen.

Eyes lighting up in delight, Jack’s lips curl up. “Oh sugar, it’s not my birthday yet, why are you showerin’ me with presents?” He coos, sliding his hand up and down your ample thigh. “Pretty as a damn picture.”

The real answer is that you’re desperate to feel him, but you just smirk instead, not wanting to get your heart more involved than it already is. “Because I don’t have a condom and I’ll be damned if we stop now because of it.”

“If you want me to get one…” Jack motions back to his pants. “I have one in my wallet.”

“I don’t want the barrier,” you admit, biting your lip at the extremely vulnerable nature of that confession. “If it’s okay with you.”

His smirk turns into a wicked grin. “You read my mind, sugar. I want to feel all of you.”

You could make a joke about how much of you there is to feel, but just this once you stifle the urge. Opting instead to reach out and gently cup Jack's cheeks in both of your hands before pressing a soft, earnest kiss to his lips. "Then what are you waiting for, Cowboy?”

As you lean back, Jack follows you. Climbing up your body and groaning as he settles between your thighs. “You want to cum again, pretty girl?”

"Not without you this time." The reality of Jack is better than anything you thought so far. Since this miracle is surely once in a lifetime, you want it to be as amazing as possible.

Jack groans your name, pressing his lips to yours in another hot, wet kiss. Passionate and consuming as he pushes an arm underneath you. “I’m right here with you.”

As impossible as it seems, he really is. He is right there with you, taking you in his arms and making you feel delicate and desirable for the first real time in your entire adult life.

He doesn’t rush, although he wants to. Every kiss is slow and thorough. Reaching down between you to take hold of himself to notch at your entrance. “Hold on, sugar. See if we can ride for longer than eight seconds.”

“I’m not gonna buck you, Jack.” You can promise him that, because you know damn well you’re going to hold onto this moment for dear life and not question the gift that it is. This one little shining moment is just for the two of you and you’re never going to forget a single second of it.

His eyes are watching, burning into yours as he starts to slowly rock his hips forward. Breaking you open with the first inch of his cock and swooping in to kiss you again when you gasp.

The world slows down, motions stretching into time and blending together in ways that you can’t quite wrap your head around so all you know in this moment is Jack. Every time he thrusts forward again your moans get that much deeper, until on the final experimental rock of his hips, he is seated fully inside you and you feel so spellbound and grateful for the moment that you’re all but sure you could cry. Instead you pour yourself into kissing him, rocking your own hips slightly to take him more comfortably and adjust to the weighty feeling of having him inside you.

“Fuck, baby girl.” Jack inhales sharply, stealing your breath as he tries to rein himself in, throbbing violently inside you. If it weren’t for the fact that he had promised you a rodeo, he would be cumming, overwhelmed by how hot and tight you are. You’re perfect, just like he always imagined. “You be a good girl and take my cock, m’kay?”

Good girl is another one of those sticking points for you just like getting your ass slapped, and if Jack had no idea before, he certainly does now, from the way your cunt just spasmed around his length and you moaned like you were coming all over again.

“Ohhhhhh.” Jack’s eyes nearly cross and he gives a particularly sharp thrust when you clamp down around him. “You like that.” He pants out. “You’re my good girl?”

“S’not fair,” you huff, throwing him a playful pout that gets cut by another shaky moan. “You’re finding all the buttons I like pushed way too easily.”

“You haven’t - fuck - figured out my buttons yet, sugar?” Jack ducks his head down and slides the arm not underneath you down your hip and thigh to pull it up higher. Sinking deeper into you with a moan of your name.

“Liking to have your cock sucked doesn’t—fuck!— count,” you tell him, back arching as he hits a new angle inside you.

He chuckles and licks at your pulse before he nips at your skin with his teeth. Fingers digging into your pillowy flesh and groans when you clench around him again.

Finding a rhythm is as easy as breathing. Being with him is so much more natural and intuitive than you dreamt it would be. Your natural tendency to be a little rougher is equaled by his enthusiasm for making the bedroom a loud and raucous experience. There’s no hiding from each other or demurring, not once you get going. It’s like something inside you has finally been unlocked after a lifetime of waiting — waiting for Jack to come along with the key that would open you up.

If it surprises Jack that you are wild in bed, it’s probably the best goddamn surprise he’s ever gotten. His back burns from the raking of your nails when he hits deep. He fucking loves it. Your wildness makes him go absolutely feral over you.

It’s the opposite of who you are in everyday life. A version of you just for him. A version of you that leaves your worries outside the circle of your bodies and embraces sex as something carefree. Which, if you’re honest, isn’t really how you’ve felt about sex with anyone besides Jack. (edited)

His lips and teeth map every inch that he can reach as he pumps in and out of you frantically. Trying to keep the pace hard and fast because every time your cunt clenches, his hips stutter from how fucking tight you are. “Fuck, my good girl.” He growls. “So fucking tight.”

“So fucking big,” you give back, starting to pant heavier and more unevenly. There’s a whine forming in the back of your throat that you can’t hold back and you bite down on the juncture of Jack’s shoulder as your legs threaten to shake all over again. You’re so close to cumming but you don’t want this to end.

Jack changes the tempo, slowing down and grinding his pelvis against your clit. “You gonna cum for me, baby girl?” He rasps out. “Cum on Jack’s big ‘ole cock and soak me?”

"So—oh, fuck—close, baby." The way you feel right now, you might actually fall apart at the seams when you cum again, but it will be worth it. It will be worth just knowing first hand how gorgeous Jack looks when he follows you over the edge. "Don't stop. Don't fucking stop, Jack."

“Never.” Jack growls, smashing his teeth together and hissing at the way you claw and writhe under him. It’s like taming a feral cat in a pillowcase and he loves it. Your thighs are crushing his hips and all he can do is imagine them around his head. “Cum for me.”

A half dozen thrusts later, your cunt is clenching down on his cock and pulsing with a fierce orgasm that has your thighs tensing at his waist and your back bowing off the bed. Everything seems to be happening at the top of however it possibly could, and that includes the way you cry his name into the night before collapsing back into his sheets with your arms and legs still around him, willing him to follow you to bliss.

Jack moans your name, pants it again against your lips. His brow knitted in concentration as he tries to last. His body tightening and tensing as his pleasure builds to that almost painful precipice. His heart pounding, but not because of the physical exertion, but because of the almost loving look on your eyes. “Love you.” He moans, right as his lips crash against yours and he breathes it into your mouth again. “Love you.”

You freeze under him, but Jack is too caught in his bliss to tell. Like a bucket of water has been splashed over the bubble of this night and popped that shell keeping you separate from the world. Did he just...? There's no way. There's just absolutely no way at all. You must have imagined it. Wished for it so desperately that you hallucinated the words. Because otherwise you're not quite sure what you'll do — because Jack has never lied to you. But he's also never given you any reason to think your feelings might be requited.

Caught up in his orgasm, Jack rides wave after wave of complete bliss as he empties himself into you, metaphorically and physically. Giving you every bit of himself as he finally acknowledges the truth of why he has always kept you at arms length. His love for you terrifying him, but right now, he’s flying. Collapsing into your arms and panting out your name as he catches his breath.

There's nothing you can do with this shock except bury it, holding him and gently stroking his hair while he catches his breath with his head on your chest. You imagined it, you remind yourself silently, blinking back tears at how much you wish it was true.

The whiskey, the emotions and the exertion have Jack cuddly and sleepy as he comes down from his orgasm. “Fuck, baby girl.” He hums, kissing your neck as he slowly pulls out of you and shifts to your side to roll you over with him. “Wore me out.” He chuckles. “But gave a hell of a ride.”

He tucks you into his arms to be his little spoon, not letting you get away for even a second. Any other time? This would have been thrilling. "Get some sleep, baby." Returning the pet name seems innocent enough, and you reach back to run your fingers through his hair gently. "You earned it."

His eyes are closed when he shoots you a sleepy grin. “Talk when we wake up, sugar.” He promises, fingers stroking your skin softly.

That promise might be why you sleep so fitfully in the night to follow. Why you're so wound up that when your Statesman issued phone chirps from your purse on his floor around 6:30 in the morning, your eyes open immediately. Jack has turned over in the night, sleeping on his back now with one arm still around you but not so tightly that you can't extract yourself to answer the message. That phone is used only for missions and confidential communication, meaning you absolutely cannot ignore it. Incoming Message: Agent Rye report immediately for mission briefing. CODE BLACK. Code Black. You curse under your breath, careful not to wake Jack, and rub one hand down your face in dismay. That level of secrecy in a mission assignment means you can't even wake him up to say goodbye. You're supposed to speak to no one, just proceed immediately to the nearest Statesman branch for your mission briefing. With a sigh and another, more colorful curse, you shake your head and glance back at the bed where Jack is sleeping soundly. There's nothing to do but get dressed and Walk of Shame your ass into the office. You just wish you could wake him up to say goodbye.

It’s been years since Jack has slept so well. Deep and dreamless, none of the nightmares that often plague his rest. The soft scent of you surrounding him and soothing him like nothing he’s had in a long time. When his eyes open, he’s feeling like he’s had the best sleep of his life. Frowning when he doesn’t feel you next to him. Calling out your name softly in case you were in the bathroom. “Rye? Sugar?”

There's no trace of you anywhere. He may as well have come home alone last night, except for the scent of you in the air and the scratches on his back. It's almost an insult when he sees a fallen sequin on the rug where your dress had been tossed.

“Fuck.” Jack’s slipped out of plenty of beds, ducked out and kept walking. The walk of shame was never shameful when there was a little bit of pep to his step, but right now, he’s pissed. Pissed you didn’t have the fucking balls to wake him before you slipped off like a thief in the night. Snatching up his pants, he digs into the pocket for his phone, dialing your number and ready to have it out with you.

"Hi! Sorry I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I'm able!" Your voicemail message is insultingly chipper when it picks up right away, almost taunting him. Like you aren't willing to talk, when nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Fuck!” Jack shouts, throwing the phone and scowling angrily. Pissed that you aren’t here, that you apparently don’t want to talk to him. “Fine, you regret it? Fuck you too.” He growls and stomps into the bathroom to shower. If you wanted nothing to do with him after he had let down his walls last night, he wants nothing to do with you either.

******

"What's got you all chewed up and spat out today?" Tequila raises an eyebrow at Jack when he comes huffing into the office, a little late and a lot pissed off. He had expected Jack to be in a stellar mood.

“Not a goddamn thing.” Even though his feathers are ruffled, Jack practically refuses to even think about you. To the point where he had thrown the sheets and the costly Tom Ford tuxedo away. “Whadda we got?” Desperate to concentrate on a mission, he jumps straight into business.

"Wingman prep." Tequila tells him, tapping the folder on his own desktop. "Somebody got tapped this morning and Champ wants us to comb some old mission files to prep for an extraction. Plan B sorta shit." And since all of the mission-ready agents on the Statesman payroll are top notch with years of experience under their belts, anyone potentially needing an extraction from a mission is a big fucking deal.

“Who got tapped?” Jack asks, grabbing a file and flipping it open with a frown on his face. “Scotch?”

"I thought you'd know already." Tequila's eyes snap back up to Jack in concern. "It was Rye."

Jack freezes and slowly lifts his eyes from the file to find Tequila frowning at him, confused by how he doesn’t know. “Why would I know that?” Jack asks after a moment. It explains why your phone was off, but you had still slipped out without saying a fucking word.

"Because...you went home with her last night?" Everybody knows that you and Jack left the party. Absolutely everyone. There was a whole extra celebration after you left. "Figured you woulda known by her getting up this morning and all."

There’s a split second where Jack wants to snap that you had left him to wake up alone, but he doesn’t. What comes out of his mouth instead, is to deny the whole thing. “Took her home.” Jack shrugs, lying easily as if he couldn’t care less. “She wanted to soak in a bath and read some book.”

The frown on Tequila's face deepens measurably, pure confusion marring his usually chipper face. "Bullshit," he huffs, leaning back in his desk chair. "I saw you kiss her. No way."

“Believe what you want.” Jack snaps flatly. “Where are we in planning the back up plans?” The hurt is soothed slightly by you being called away, but it doesn’t make it nonexistent. You hadn’t even left a goddamn message for him. He could have seen not waking him if you had left some sign that you didn’t regret the night even happened.

"Early stages." Knowing better than to poke the dragon when he's mad about something, Tequila defers to work like Jack clearly wants. "Tell me what you think, but I think me on the ground and you in the Silver Pony is the best bet." Whatever happened between you and Jack, the man is clearly hurt, and Tequila makes a note to go and talk to Ginger when he gets his next chance. If you had said anything to anyone, it would be to her.

“Whatever.” Jack practically rolls his eyes and shrugs. Usually he loves the opportunity to fly and show off in the Silver Pony, but he’s so worked up over you that he doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “Guess that’s the plan. If needed.”

“If needed.” All Tequila does is nod, but damn he really needs to talk to Ginger.

******

Jack holes up in his office, barely answering the phone and not leaving it all day, not even for lunch. Catching up on paperwork that is normally never done as he works through not being at home. Not remembering how you tasted and sounded last night. He’s even refused to pull up your camera footage, not wanting to see what you are doing. He’s miserable and is determined to stay that way.

“Thought I’d find you in here.” Champ’s gruff voice cuts through the silence long after everyone else has gone home for the night. He knew exactly where Jack would be. Especially after Tequila said the senior agent was out of sorts. “Come up to my office, Jack. We’re gonna have a drink.” It’s not a suggestion or a request. This is a direct order from this commander, and Champ turns around and heads back down the hall knowing Jack will follow.

Jack sighs and sets his pen down, ripping the reading glasses off his face and tossing them down on the folder. He had stayed cooped up in his office so he didn’t take his bad mood out on anyone so he doesn’t see why he needs to be called out onto the carpet. Still, he pushes back from his desk and follows the older man to the conference room Champ preferred over his official office. The bar cart in here was better stocked.

“Pick your poison.” Champ tells him, motioning for Jack to sit down at the conference table as he strolls over to the cart to grab a bottle and two glasses.

“Whatever your havin’.” Jack wonders what this is about, but he doesn’t ask. Just waits patiently for his boss to get to the reason in his own sweet time.

Champ grunts slightly, grabbing a bottle of ‘74 Reserve, and brings it to the table. He pours two fingers in each glass and slides one over to set in front of Jack before sitting down beside him and taking a sip from his own glass. “You’ve been hidin’ today,” he assesses after a moment of silence. “But I hear you damn near took Tequila’s head off this morning when you got in.”

“Can’t have a bad day?” Jack asks, picking up the whiskey and staring at it before taking a sip. “Woke up wrong, that’s all. I’ll apologize to the crybaby later.”

“He’s not a damn crybaby,” Champ huffs, covering his own amusement with a scowl. “I walked by your damn office, fool. And when he did come talk to me about it, it was because he was worried about you.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jack scowls and shakes his head. “I had a bad morning. I’m fine. Not gonna go off and try to kill all the drug users again.”

“Not saying you would.” Holding up his hands in a show of innocence, Champ leans back all the way and stares down his nose at Jack for a second longer before he shakes his head and shrugs. “But between you and me just these walls? Just thought you might wanna know that Rye got sent off Code Black, is all.” He isn’t supposed to say. Black is black. It’s too priority and top security. But you’d been so torn up this morning and Jack’s been so out of sorts in his own way that Champ has rightfully assumed that something fairly big must’ve happened after you left the party.

His jaw nearly drops. Champ never gives information away like that. He frowns, looking back down at his glass again and feeling relieved. If you had gotten a Code Black, you couldn’t wake him up. It would have been against protocol. He swallows and finally nods. “Good to know.”

“Just don’t want you stewing over it.” The older man says, watching carefully as he sips from his glass again. “You wanna be upset with anyone, it’s me. Not her.”

“Right.” Jack drains the rest of the whiskey and the crystal hits the table slightly harder than normal. “Anything else?”

“Nah. That’s it.” There’s nothing more that Champ can really say, and now Jack needs to process. That’s just how these things work. “See ya in the morning, Daniels.”

Jack stands. “‘Night, Champ.” He walks out of the room and back down the hall towards his office, looking down at his feet as he goes.

******

It’s two weeks before Tequila and Jack are given a stand-down order and told their rescue mission won’t be necessary. Mission success, they’re told with authority, even though it took longer than expected. They don’t get more than that, though, and Jack is walking past Ginger’s lab on his way out of the office late that night when he hears your voice again for the first time in weeks. It’s tired, and quiet, but unmistakable. “Can we just get this over with, Ging?” You ask your friend quietly, knowing that decontamination and a full physical are extremely necessary considering where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing. But you want to get the hell out of here and finally go talk to Jack.

He would never admit it, but he’s been living at Statesman. Barely going home to change and often refreshing the outfits that he keeps in his office for unexpected late nights. On call the entire time in case you needed him. Now you are here and Jack feels like running away. So much self doubt had built up over two weeks, he’s driven himself crazy over every little thing. Obsessing over the details of New Years.

“Once you have a clean bill of health, you go storm the ranch or whatever it is you’re going to do.” Ginger teases, full of warmth. “But I would try his office first.”

Jack frowns slightly and wonders what the hell Ginger is talking about, storming the ranch. He almost pushes the door open, but he doesn’t. Just wants to see what you will say if you know that he’s not listening.

“It’s been two weeks, Ging.” The pops and hums and beeps of her equipment punctuate your voice from inside the lab. “Every single second I haven’t been thinking about this mission I’ve been reliving that night. And I could kill Champ for sending me away Code fucking Black before I could even tell Jack how I feel about him.”

“I know it was bad timing.” He hears Ginger sigh. “But hopefully it gave you some time to think about what you’re going to say?”

Jack’s stomach twists and he feels nauseous. Wondering if you’ve decided that it was a mistake. He swallows harshly and whirls around, not wanting to hear how you plan on letting him down or friend zoning him.

“I’m going to tell him the truth,” he misses hearing you say. “That I’ve been in love with him for six years, and that I’m done being a coward about it.” This mission so easily could have killed you every single day that it became something of an eye opener. Getting back to Jack had become the most dominant and driving force in your mind at times.

Walking down to his office has Jack twisted in knots. He’s never been a coward before but he damn sure feels like running. Playing back that night in his head over and over had made him realize what he had said. More importantly, what you hadn’t said back. Walking over to his bar cart, he pours himself a heavy double and bolts it down. He’ll get wasted after you crush his hopes but that was needed so he doesn’t beg like a pathetic wretch. He needs to keep his pride somehow.

It’s twenty more minutes before he hears footsteps in the hall and hears your tentative voice calling his name. “Jack?” There’s nerves in it, anxiety hovering around you despite your triumphant mission. But you appear in his doorway looking worried and chewing your lip. “Hey…you’re still here.”

“Work’s never done.” Jack huffs, plastering on a friendly but not too friendly expression. “Haven’t seen you around in a few weeks. Mission go alright?” It’s painful to see you in that doorway, looking tired and beautiful. Reminding him of how you looked before he had fallen asleep and lost you.

“I’m home and in one piece.” It’s what you always say, but at least it’s true. He doesn’t exactly look happy to see you, though, and that makes you falter a little. Not enough to shake your resolve, but your optimism that he’ll respond with joy cracks right away. “Do you…can we talk a little?”

“Sure.” He takes off his reading glasses and stands. Moving over to the alcohol again. “Want a drink?” He asks, not looking over his shoulder at you. He sees the worry on your face and knows you are concerned about your working relationship. What he will do will be accept your wants, wish you well and promise that he will not let what happened affect your professional relationship. Then he will demand a transfer to the New York office, permanently. You nod and he pours out two drinks. “What’s on your mind, Rye?”

“Well…you are.” It seems like such an obvious answer that it almost feels silly saying it, but he won’t even look you in the eye so staring at the beginning seems like a good idea.

“Oh?” Turning around is hard, but he manages to look curious instead of sick to his stomach. “Now why would I be on your mind, sugar?” The endearment slips out and he nearly bites his tongue as he carries them over to the small sofa area.

The message is loud and clear: it really didn’t mean anything to him. Regardless, though, you have to power through. If he really didn’t mean what he said and has no interest in being with you, you’ll request a permanent transfer. Chicago, Dallas, Los Angeles — anywhere but here or New York. Swallowing a sigh, you accept the glass from him but just hold it in your hands while you gather your thoughts. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk before I had to leave,” you start, trying not to let the warmth and proximity of him get under your skin so easily. But you can’t really help it. “I did the best I could for a message to let you know what had happened, but it wasn’t much. And I’m sorry for that, too.”

His facade cracks, the scowl as quick to vanish as it appears and he scoffs. “Message received, Rye. A lone sequin on the floor. Practically like it was a dream, except for that.” He tosses back the whiskey. “Can you just get to the part where you tell me it was a mistake, you don’t want to ruin our friendship or work relationship? Or whatever bullshit excuse you’ve settled on to tell me you regret it?” His eyes are dark and pained when they finally land on you, barely resisting the urge to flee.

“On the floor?” Your brow furrowed instantly, a frown painting itself on your lips, and you set the glass in your hands aside to shift closer to him on the little couch. “Jack, I left a sequin on your nightstand.” The choice was even more horrible than you had worried it would be, apparently, because he looks so hurt he could actually cry. A fact which makes you instantly want to cry as well. “A black sequin was the best I could do for a signal. It—it must have…blown off. Stupid fucking flapper dress with all that fringe. It must have gone flying when I left the room.” There was no other breeze, no window open or fan blowing. Only you could have sabotaged yourself like that.

He doesn’t believe you and shakes his head. “Why would you leave a black-“ he trails off when it hits him. Black sequin - Code Black. Trying to tell him that you had wanted to leave a message but couldn’t. Champ had broken protocol by telling him about the Code Black and apparently you had tried to signal the same thing. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You shake your head in resignation, blowing out a shuddering breath. “I didn’t want to leave. Especially not after…” Another shaky breath leaves the rest of you shaking in turn, and you shove your hands under your legs on the couch. This is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever asked a person in your entire life. “Did you…mean it? What you said?”

Jack bites his lip, wanting to ask you what you’re talking about but he can’t do that. You look distraught that he had thought you had just disappeared. “Yeah.” Jack admits quietly. “Look, I know that it’s not something you were expectin’ ta hear, and you don’t feel the same.” He rolls on with the emotions that he needs to get out. “I won’t be mad, or take it out on you. But that night….fuck.” He blows out a breath. “I got to touch you. Just like I fuckin’ dreamed of. And I couldn’t just let you think it was a heat of the moment thing for me.”

“Why do you think I don’t feel the same?” With your heart beating wildly and your shakiness only increasing, there’s a sort of explosive quality in your mind and body that you can’t quite figure out how to control. Like all you want to do is launch yourself at him for a kiss but you know you need to talk first. To get it all out in the open. To be honest with each other. “I—I honestly had no idea you thought of me as anything but a friend. I was…well…shocked is a bit of an understatement.”

Jack snorts. “I know my reputation. Hell, I crafted it. But I couldn’t flirt with you. It’s too- shit- you had me from the first time we met. I was fucking hooked and it wouldn’t have been right. You were a junior agent and -“ he shakes his head. “I was running from the kind of commitment you were made for.”

“Your reputation was built by a man who had loved his wife so deeply that he couldn’t bear the thought of loving and losing again,” you remind him quietly. You sure you hadn’t known that right away, but when you had learned about his wife and son, you understood implicitly. “But it…it never stopped me from falling in love with you. Even when I thought I’d never be more to you than an acquaintance. I considered myself damn lucky to eventually become your friend. I just thought…I thought the fact that you never, ever flirted with me…meant that it was unrequited. So I made myself okay with it. Until two weeks ago.”

“I respect you, Rye.” Jack murmurs quietly. “I didn’t want to make it seem like you were everyone else, because you weren’t.” It’s backwards and twisted, but no one ever said that he had defeated all his demons. “When I broke- I gave you everything.”

“More than you know.” A soft huff of a laugh escapes you and you shake your head again, willing your nerves to calm down even a little. “Just…please understand, Jack. That I’ve been in love with you since the second I met you. And the only reason I didn’t say it back the night we slept together is because I was so shocked to hear it from you in the first place. I thought I’d hallucinated what I wanted to hear, and then before I knew it we were asleep…and then I woke up to a Code Black.”

“I was upset.” Jack admits quietly. “Really upset.” He flushes slightly. “May have been thinkin’ some not-so-polite things until Tequila told me it was you who was slated for the mission.” He won’t tell you that Champ had broken the rules. “Convinced myself that you had run off to go save the world so you wouldn’t have to tell me that you’d had too much alcohol and that’s why you let me take you home.”

“Not at all.” Taking a chance, you reach for his hand and practically sigh in relief when he slots his fingers through yours. “I pretty much thought I’d died and gone to heaven, if I’m honest. I just kept thinking…if this only happens once, I never want to forget a single thing.” You squeeze his hand gently, wishing you could have said all this two weeks ago. “I’m sorry my message didn’t work. That’s…you have every right to think nasty things about me. I’m so sorry.”

“No I don’t.” Jack protests. “Not if you meant to be here. Not if you wanted to be here the next morning. Then it’s just a bad misunderstanding and I’m sorry.”

“Then I guess we’re both sorry.” He’ll never know that you cried all the way to the office that morning at having to leave him, you decide right now. It would only make him feel even more guilty and he doesn’t deserve that. “But I’m not sorry about what happened between us.”

“You aren’t?” He tightens his grip on your hand, relaxing slowly as you talk and he understands that this was one giant cluster fuck. He’s used to those, he can handle those. “That’s good, sugar. Because New Years was probably the best night of my life.”

“God, I hope you mean that.” Your shakiness is for more than one reason, although you needed to have this conversation first. Whatever the two of you decide will happen next is a decision made by both of you, not just you alone. “Because…Ginger couldn’t clear me…after my physical. I can’t go back on the list.”

Jack frowns, brows pulling together. “Why can’t Ginger clear you? What’s wrong?” There’s a number of things that can be fixed by Statesman tech and he’s worried that it’s something bad.

Your stomach churns with worry, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. The unmistakable advances of Statesman tech can do things that most doctors absolutely cannot, thanks to Ginger Ale, and you’re not sure whether to thank her or curse her. “It’s not that something’s wrong, technically,” you admit, giving another worried squeeze to his hand. “But we probably ought to have used that condom…”

Jack’s eyes widen and they drop to your stomach, discerning the meaning of your comment. You aren’t a liar and Jack would believe you if you said you didn’t sleep with someone else, but he’s confused. “Sugar- how?” He chokes out. “I got snipped when I joined Statesman.”

“When was the last time you had your sperm count checked?” You had made Ginger do the test three times, but the result was always the same. Your birth control failed and Jack’s second kid is already growing, if very slowly. “The chances of a vasectomy failing are less than one percent, but it can still happen.”

Jack frowns and then rolls his eyes and groans. “The chamber.” He remembers. “When I got shot and then- uh, put back together.” He shakes his head. “Ging said I might need to get it checked but I dadgum forgot.” He bites his lip and tries not to freak out over the fact that you are pregnant after your one and only time together. “What do you want, sugar?” He asks.

“Not more than you’re willing to give freely.” The answer is that you want all of him. Every single bit. Love and a life and a family. But you know that even if Jack does love you, he’s never loved anyone the way he loved his wife. And losing Maria nearly destroyed him, so he may not be willing to take that chance again. “But I…unless you really object…I’m keeping the baby. Even if you don’t want a commitment or anything. I just…you’re right about me. I want a family and if this is my only chance I don’t want to give that up. Especially not if I get even the littlest piece of you with it.”

“You think I would-“ he shakes his head. “No, I would never force you, one way or the other.” He frowns. “I was asking if you wanted to have a baby. And if you think I’m gonna sit back and let you raise it by yourself, you must have hit your dadgum head.”

“I want this baby.” It had only taken about ten seconds after learning it existed to determine that, even if you’re still grappling with the reality of it. “And I want you.” You inch closer to him on the couch. “However you want to be together. That part is up to you.”

“It’s been a long damn time since I’ve thought about being a daddy, sugar.” There’s a slight smirk on his face but he doesn’t make the obvious crude joke. “But I’m pretty traditional when you break it down. I’m not gonna want to be apart from you and our baby.”

He might not have made the joke but you still laugh, having made the sugar daddy connection in your mind easily enough. “I know it’s a lot, Jack. And we didn’t plan it. But…” All you can do is shrug your shoulders slightly, looking up at him with such obvious hope and even more obvious water behind your eyes. “But, I love you.”

“I meant it, baby girl.” He promises you, reaching out to caress your cheek and then cup it. “I love you. I love you so much, sugar.” Licking his lips, his eyes drop down to yours. “Can I kiss you?”

"I wish you would." practically beaming at him, you lean in and let the moment wash over you. Jack's lips against yours. His hands on your skin. His baby - your baby - is already starting to grow.

Jack pulls you close, pressing his lips against yours and groaning softly. “Sugar, you’re gonna have my baby.” He whispers against your lips in awe. “Just the one time, one time between your thighs and you are carrying my baby.”

“One time is all it takes.” You can’t help the broad way you smile, giggling softly against his lips as you steal another kiss.

“I don’t regret it.” He promises. “I don’t regret you.” He smiles as he kisses you again. “We really did shake things up for New Years, didn’t we?”

“Just a little bit.” Another laugh escapes you, and you lean into his side only to be rewarded with Jack’s arms encircling you and holding you close. “I don’t regret any of it. Except maybe not making my message a whole lot clearer.”

“We’ll get better at communicatin’.” Jack promises with a smile. “We’re partners now.”

“Do you want to go get dinner, maybe?” The end of a mission can be crazy even when it’s successful, and you just want to try to relax tonight. Especially with everything changing in your personal life too, apparently. “My treat?”

Jack scoffs and shakes his head. “You ain’t paying, sugar.” He huffs. “Not while you’re with me. If you want dinner, we can go out, or I can take you home and throw some steaks on the grill.”

“I kind of want to celebrate,” you admit, feeling silly about it even though it’s the truth. “If that’s okay?”

“Then we’ll go out and celebrate.” Jack promises before he frowns at something you had said. “Why would you have thought I would never be interested in you?”

“Because…” It feels sillier than the celebration thing now that you know the truth. Silly and even a little pointless, but he asked so you’ll tell him. “Because you flirted with every woman in the world besides me. Which Ginger said is how she knew you were interested in me. But I didn’t believe her.”

“You know you’re wrong, don’t cha?” Jack asks you. “When you said that you get sent on assignments to be invisible? You’re sent on the assignments you are given because you get the job done. Champ knows that if he gives you a task, it will be done.”

“Whatever the reason is, he’ll have to do without me for about a year.” It isn’t worth having a debate over your lack of self esteem with him right now, and you especially don’t want to ruin the mood by crying anything other than happy tears, so you just redirect the conversation altogether. “This baby is my top priority.”

“Our top priority.” He corrects you. He’s nervous, terrified really, but there’s no one he’d rather have a happy accident with than you. “Our New Year’s baby.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

[chrollogy]

i. MYSTERY MAN IN PARIS

miya atsumu x f!reader

── next: ii. His name? Miya Atsumu | series masterlist

synopsis: Spending some quiet, alone time at a luxury bar in Paris, you didn’t expect to make conversation with the mystery man that’s been eyeing you from across the room, let alone take up on his brazen offer to be your distraction for the night.

chapter content warning: pop artist!reader, mentioned co-artist!semi eita, media gossip, alcohol use, intoxicated characters, explicit smut (mdni), unprotected s*x, brief cum eating, drunken one night stand, implied multiple orgasms, use of y/n for the article, not beta read.

word count: 3.6k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. weep woop first chapter !!! eeeep i’m so so excited to begin this series w u all <3

10 PM. Paris, France.

Surrounded by warm hues of the dimly lit luxury bar adorned with lavish furnishings in deep colours of reds, and browns, it exuded with utmost sophistication—a complete opposite of your inebriated state right now. Albeit, not completely wasted, you were surely on your way there; for now, your head seemed lighter, and you cheeks burned

The jazz music that spilled from its speakers had calmed your nerves a bit, and you were able to take your mind off things that bothered you—or so you convinced yourself. Sat atop a crimson plush barstool with an intoxicating beverage decorating the mahogany countertop, you let out a defeated sigh as your eyes scanned the latest entertainment news headline with your name tied with yet another gossip article about an alleged relationship.

A cool glow of blue casted over your features as you read over the contents of the article from your phone, each descent further into the paragraphs almost had you rolling eyes at how foolish it all sounded; you were surprised tabloids were able to pull out a full fledged article with such little evidence into your personal love life, let alone credibility but it surprised you even more at how the media consumed these gossip articles as though they don’t have a history of inaccuracy.

It made you dizzy—both the article, and your drink.

That’s right. The media had somewhat twisted the whole scenario into you, and Semi apparently dating just because tabloids had seen the two of you hanging out a couple of times like normal friends do.

Sure, those leaked photos were of you, and him hugging but claiming that you two were dating based on that evidence alone was a stretch. Clearly, these people didn’t have anything better to do than air out your ‘relationship’ for publicity.

It didn’t help how both yours, and Semi’s agency solely relied on the official statements they had put out, and wished for the best because clearly that didn’t stop the media from brewing new stories every now, and then.

They thought the most sensible move was to lie low, and gradually let it fade on its own; it was wishful thinking considering how the media was. But it's too late now, some still think you’re dating Semi, and that was beyond your control. You had other matters to worry about.

You shook your head, placing your phone face down on the wooden countertop before taking a swig of your drink—you were spending some quiet alone time for two reasons: 1) To celebrate another completed world tour which successfully ended two days ago, and 2) To take your mind off those articles. Or maybe those weren’t even the reasons why you were here. 

Nonetheless, you appreciated the lack of company—being surrounded by a full staff didn’t always feel like the luxury people deemed it to be, and not to mention, the media’s watchful gaze, at least inside this luxury bar, you weren’t being watched. Or so you thought.

For thirty minutes now, you’ve noticed a foreign gaze so intense it could burn through the side of your face—that’s four rounds of drinks; from the very first drink you ordered all the way to the one that’s currently in your hand, a man has been not-so-subtly staring at you.

At first, paparazzi came to mind but you haven’t noticed him pull out a camera to take unsolicited pictures of you. Instead, he remained in his seat, casually taking swigs of his umber drink. Due to the dimly lit place, you couldn’t really make out most of his features, though, his golden strands stood out beneath the warm lighting of the bar, not to mention the casual shirt he wore with a few top buttons loose. Not that you cared or anything.

Maybe he was a fan? With all the alcohol fogging your mind, you couldn’t really think of any other plausible reasons as to why he’d be staring at you so intensely. Nonetheless, you just hoped the man left it at that, you’d rather have him stare than walk up to you and—

“What’s a pretty lady like ya doin’ here all alone?”

His dulcet voice as smooth as velvet cut through the faint jazz music, his sentence had a little drag to it—most likely from the alcohol—but purely coherent; you noticed the slight purr in his tone, sweet as honey yet equally dangerous, not to mention his accent. It wasn’t hard to pull off a polite smile, after all, you’ve been doing it since the start of your career but only on days where you felt you needed to mask your emotions a bit.

Swivelling your barstool to face the man, you were met with his gaze—caramel was the word to describe his eyes, saccharine, and sticky enough to rope you into the depths of it. You’ve never seen such alluring eyes before. Was that your heart talking or the alcohol? He looked to be around your age with a very notable physique, as though he was some kind of athlete.

“I’m sorry, I’m not really interested . .” Sure, the mystery man had piqued your interest but you were better than this, right? You were just hoping to spend a nice, quiet evening alone. The blonde let out a soft chuckle,

“‘M jus’ tryna make conversation. No hard feelings on that one.”

Though, despite your better judgement, you figured simply talking to a stranger wouldn’t stain your reputation easily. Plus, the thought of making conversation with a complete stranger—someone who didn’t know of your fame—felt oddly refreshing, as though you were just a normal person. Or you were just drunk, and every decision felt right.

“Make conversation, hm? Well, by all means, amuse me.” The blonde took that as an invite to sit at the vacant barstool next to you, his feet rested on the wooden floor beneath, putting you into perspective of how tall he actually was. “Well, we can't have one without proper introductions, can we? Atsumu.” Atsumu’s body faced you, his right elbow rested atop the mahogany countertop with a relaxed smile painted on his face.

You returned his greeting with your name which earned a cliché ‘pretty name for a pretty woman’ from the blonde—please, you’ve heard it all before, if Atsumu’s goal was to woo you, he’d have to try harder than textbook flirting.

“So, what’re ya doin’ here all alone?” “To take my mind off certain things—to distract myself.”

The corners of Atsumu’s lips curled up, smiling to himself as he swirled the umber-coloured liquid inside the crystalline glass. “If you want,” The blonde started before taking a sip of his drink, his eyes peered over the glass—a glint of mischief, and intoxication clouded his hooded gaze, “Take yer mind off things, huh? I can do that. Use me as a distraction.” You didn’t even notice that his full attention was on you until the sound of a distinct thud from the glass in his hands reeled you back to reality—it sat empty atop the wooden countertop.

Maybe it was the rush of excitement that washed over your body, igniting a rebellious spark within you; in the world of fame where many put you on a pedestal, it was always ‘don’t do this’ and ‘don’t do that’, voices from all around have always told you what you could, and couldn’t do for the sake of your image. You’ve always played by the book, followed every essential etiquette there was but you’d be lying if you didn’t at least fantasise what it’d feel like to act a little reckless.

Or maybe it was the way his honeyed gaze stared at you with such want; you instantly knew it was genuine because Atsumu recognised you for yourself only, not that faux interest everyone else had just so they could get a taste of one of Japan’s biggest artist, and the fame tied with your name.

Or maybe it was the alcohol finally taking full control of your senses—rational, and irrational thoughts became one, right, and wrong could no longer be deciphered. And every decision you could think of just seemed like there were no dire consequences to face after, only a pounding headache.

Sceptical of his tempting offer, you narrowed your eyes at him; surely, it was too good to be true, there had to be some kind of catch, “Really, now? And what do you get out of it?” Atsumu shrugged, keeping his eyes locked onto yours, “Same thing as ya—pleasure.” You blinked at him, the sober part of your mind screamed at you at how stupid this was but you couldn’t really bring yourself to listen.

The next few moments became a blur, you vaguely remembered paying for the last round of your drink, and bidding the doorman a good bye before hitting the streets of Paris in a haze—all with a person you just met hot behind your heels. The soles of your shoes echoed against cobblestone pavement beneath as you both drunkenly staggered along; shops were already closed, and the streets were illuminated by the warm glow of lamp posts.

At that moment, it had felt like you, and Atsumu were the only ones there—away from every form of attention you could think of, away from the cameras, away from the media.

The blonde had his arm loosely circled around your waist as you both fell into a drunken step, his face buried into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning over your skin as he whispered sweet nothings. You, on the other hand, found every single word that came out of his mouth hilarious despite not making jokes. From the outside, the two of you seemed like a sugary, lovesick couple basking in each other’s presence but in reality, you were strangers.

The walk back to Atsumu’s hotel felt oddly long considering your inebriated state; though, it didn’t help ease the blossoming desire pooled between your legs—the area grew uncomfortably warm with every minute passed, and just the thought of what’s to come next had you wishing you were already naked beneath Atsumu.

A small sigh of relief escaped your lips upon passing through the grand glass doors to Atsumu’s hotel; you debated between taking the stairs or the elevator but the blonde was already dragging you to the latter. As the two of you stepped inside the elevator, a deafening silence engulfed your ears, only both your heaving breathing was heard. It was only a matter of time before one decided to pounce on the other, the pressing weight of sexual tension pushing you both to your limits.

Atsumu’s fingers dug into the cool metal of the handrail behind his back, foot impatiently tapping against the marbled floor while he stared at the level indicator. He was on the tenth floor—it was currently on the fifth floor. God, could it go any slower? Sixth. Seventh. Eighth. Ninth. And Tenth.

The two of you were out of there before the doors could even fully open, eagerly squeezing through the narrow space just to save time. Atsumu had one arm looped around your waist while the other deftly dug into his pockets in search of his key card.

713—the golden numbers plastered on his door.

Standing in the middle of the hallway in front the door to his room, the blonde let out low, drunken giggles as your lips sinfully planted open-mouthed kisses up, up, up the column of his neck—each searing kiss on his sensitive skin had Atsumu pitching a tent beneath the fabric of his pants, “So—mhm! So eager, aren’t ya?” A drawled out moan escaped his lips as you nibbled at his ears, his fingers gripping your clothes a little tighter.

God, you were an absolute menace. The way your soft lips felt against Atsumu’s skin almost had his knees giving up right then, and there—not to mention the alcohol in his system which made him more susceptible to your distractions. Though, you weren’t any better, the smell of vanilla, and musk from Atsumu’s cologne practically had you intoxicated with lust. If not for the fear of getting caught in the act, Atsumu would’ve taken you right then, and there.

After a good minute of fumbling with the key card with you clung onto his side like a koala, the door finally chimed, and Atsumu wasted no time to drag both of you inside, the door slamming shut behind him.

His lips were on yours not even a minute after you stepped foot into his room—it was messy but full of desire.

The taste of expensive whiskey, and mint lingered on your tongue at the flavour of his eager lips; Atsumu’s mouth moved with such haste that you almost couldn’t keep up. The kiss felt absolutely sinful, a sloppy mix of tongue, and lips to knock yourselves breathless.

The two of you slowly stumbled back onto the king sized bed, lips not breaking contact until Atsumu’s clothed back hit the ivory sheets beneath. The blonde landed with a soft thump, elbows propped on the soft mattress as he looked up at you with hooded eyes—lips parted, and chest heaving from the lack of oxygen.

You took this opportunity to tease Atsumu a little, sensually peeling off articles of clothing until only your undergarments remained.

Atsumu cursed under his breath, head lolled to the side while biting down on his lip, he took in every dip, and curve of your body, golden eyes shamelessly raking your physique up, and down. Feeling left behind, he eagerly stripped off his clothes as well, leaving your eyes to wander anywhere, and everywhere.

If you were being honest, you didn’t know where to look—his chiselled torso? those sinful, beefy thighs that could probably crush you? the monstrosity between his legs that leaked like there’s no tomorrow? It felt like you were in The Louvre, and didn’t know which famed painting to focus on.

Atsumu looked absolutely divine; you wanted to wrap your fingers around his cock, and feel its hefty weight on your palm but you also wanted to lick a long stripe up his abs, letting your tongue glide over each muscle.

“Well? Didn’t I say ya can use me as a distraction? ‘S all yours.” Atsumu shifted up the mattress before lying on his back, sprawled out in all his naked glory. Two taps of his fingers on his upper thigh, and you were on top of the blonde like a feral animal—all thanks to the liquid courage; you didn’t even know you had this side of you until Atsumu brought it out.

As you straddled his thick thighs, the blonde’s hands immediately went to your bra, pulling down on the fabric to expose your breasts. You moaned as the night air hit your sensitive nipples, hands opting to rest on Atsumu’s shoulders for a sense of stability. With his deft fingers working on your chest by groping, and teasing your nipples, you threw your head back at the sensation, a small moan of his name lingered in the air.

“Ah—Atsumu!”

He couldn’t help himself, really, the view of your clothed chest just drove him up the wall. But Atsumu didn’t stop there, he was greedy; popping a nipple into his mouth, his tongue worked wonders on your sensitive nipple, hands travelling up from your bare waist to skilfully unhook your bra. He moaned against your skin, sending blissful vibrations throughout your feverish body. Oh, Atsumu’s lips felt heavenly, it was clear he knew how to pleasure but all you really wanted right now was his cock.

“Wait—wait, wait,” You peeled the blonde away from your chest, your breaths heavy as you stared down at him, “As much as I enjoy your mouth on my body, I need your cock, Atsumu.” He could only give a loose smile at your straightforwardness before giving you a look that said ‘go ahead, and put it in.’

Without wasting more time, the bed creaked beneath your weight as you moved around to remove the last article of clothing on you—your panties. Atsumu’s eyes were glued to your sopping entrance; the way it shamelessly soaked the fabric of your panties.

Fuck, he wondered what you’d taste like on his tongue. Maybe another time. Planting the soles of your bare feet on the soft mattress, you lowered your cunt on his dick, a unison of hisses filled your ears at the raw contact of one another.

Atsumu’s hands rested on the globes of your ass, squeezing, and groping at the fat while you slowly inched down his hard cock. “So tight . .” He moaned, his nails dug into your bare skin which were sure to leave crescent-shaped marks. Atsumu had to momentarily close his eyes at the feel of your velvety walls around him—god, he hasn’t had pussy this good since forever that it almost made him cry. You just hugged him so, so well as though your cunt was solely made for him.

As you bottomed out, you stayed still for a while to adjust to Atsumu’s cock—you may be extremely sought after but that didn’t mean your schedule had room for some dick.

The blonde’s hands roamed all over your naked body as you let out deep breaths; they travelled up, up, up until they cupped your jaw, and a chaste kiss was placed on your lips. Atsumu felt you clench around him as a response to the kiss, a sense of pride blossoming in his chest.

Starting off with a slow bounce of your hips, Atsumu threw his head back at the sudden rush of pleasure, strings of colourful curses tumbling past his rosy lips. Though, you weren’t any better, his cock was slightly curved so it immediately kissed your sweet, sweet spot repeatedly. It felt a bit embarrassing that tears were already forming in your eyes but oh you loved how Atsumu’s cock made you feel like you were beyond cloud nine.

“Please go faster—ngh!” The blonde was practically purring with desperation, his honeyed voice dripped with such want that it had you clenching around him. Who were you to deny yourselves of more pleasure?

Picking up the pace, sounds of loud skin slapping, and wet squelches reverberated through the walls of Atsumu’s hotel room—you just hoped they were thick enough to at least muffle your moans. He didn’t hesitate to guide you up, and down his cock as the need to cum grew more, and more. Soon enough, Atsumu’s hips eagerly met your own mid thrust, balls harshly slapping up against your ass. You moaned at the burn it left on your sticky skin, a cherry on top to pair the sexual stimulation.

Pleasure ate away at your sanity, sweat lined your forehead, and your leg muscles ached from the repeated movements but you couldn’t care less—all you needed right now was to cum around Atsumu’s cock.

“So—so close! Atsumu—aah!” “Y-yeah? Me too.”

One of his hands travelled to your front to rub tight, fast circles on your clit, it completely caught you off guard, and almost had you losing your balance if it wasn’t for Atsumu’s other hand holding you in place. An icy shiver kissed up your spine at the feel of his digit weighing heavy against your sensitive bud; you knew you weren’t going to last long, and Atsumu noticed that too with the way your cunt spasmed around his dick.

A loud curse slipped past your lips, eyes shut tight, and head hung low in complete bliss as Atsumu slapped your clit. Oh, he just loved to see you fall apart from his cock, and hands. With sweet nothings whispered dangerously close to your ear, it didn’t take long for you to come undone, vision turning as white as the walls of the hotel room.

Atsumu’s caramel eyes rolled to the back of his head at the feel of your tight grip around him, your warm cum sinfully coating his cock. He rode out your orgasm by slowly fucking your hips up, and down his cock, his digit now rubbing soothing circles on your swollen clit. As desperate as he was to blow his load, he needed to make sure you were satisfied—after all, Atsumu was the one who initiated to be your distraction for tonight.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! ‘M gonna cum!” Hastily pulling your hips off his cock—which earned a low hiss from you—Atsumu furiously fisted himself, his palm easily gliding up, and down the length of his cum-coated cock; your pearlescent essence glistened around it.

What a view. 

Arching your back, you angled your chest towards him—a wordless invitation to cum on your breasts; Atsumu immediately understood, and aimed his cock at you. Ropes, and ropes of hot, thick cum painted your bare chest as the blonde let out whimpers of your name, his hand still vigorously fucking his cock to empty out every last drop.

“Oh my god. Look at ya.” Atsumu panted, squeezing at the base of his cock before eyeing your cum-covered torso up, and down. He was no artist but fuck, he painted you so, so well.

Using two digits to scoop his cum off your skin, you brought it up to your lips, moaning around your fingers at the taste of Atsumu—safe to say, the lewd view before him had his cock shamelessly standing once again.

As the late night continued with basking in each other’s rawness, and pure pleasure, you completely failed to hear the continuous chimes of your phone inside your purse. Message after message, notification after notification—it all piled up on your lockscreen, and it was anything but good news.

Looks like sore legs, and a pounding headache wasn’t the only thing you were going to deal with in the morning.

—

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[fishermanshook]

LOVELANGUAGE.com (Suvivors! x gn!reader)

# day 6 w/ @philomena-propellente ‘s valentines event! , cut 4 length , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

You just started dating them, and now it’s your job to figure out just how they show their undying love for you.

꒰wc꒱ 1.4k

The Prospector 

Norton doesn’t have the money to buy or get you anything fancy. It hurts his heart a little because he would love to splurge a bit on you, but also being stuck in a dangerous manor game doesn’t help either of your situations. (Especially when you are low on clues to get food…)

Norton’s love language is Physical Touch. This man is (already) all over you from the beginning to the end of your relationship. He just loves the way you feel in his arms and it makes him feel a tone better.

You should also make sure to reciprocate these actions. Norton will probably feel even more loved by you knowing that you want to touch him as well.

Please hold this man gently in your hands as he rests his head on your lap.

The Journalist

Alice most likely has her time slots filled with random things she has to get done, so as her partner, she would like you to understand and accept the fact that she can’t spend a lot of time around or with you. What she can do, are Acts of Service.

What she lacks in time management she makes up for in getting things done for you. Too tired to grab your laundry? She’s on it. Need a snack but you're too lazy to go and get it? She’ll be right back babe. And as a last resort, she would take your place in a match for you. ONLY if something bad has come up and the two of you have discussed every possible route you can take. (and only if you promise to heal her up + kiss her bandages.)

Alice adores every part of you and she seems like one to not fall very easily. So be thankful and glad to have someone like her in your life, and don’t take her for granted.

Please be gentle with her cuts and bruises as you heal her back up again.

The Mercenary 

Naib loves his alone time as much as he loves you, and he loves you a lot. Like Alice, you have to understand that he sometimes needs to be on his own for the time being. You search for him if you’d like, but he’d rather only wish you do if it’s an emergency. He will seek you out when he wishes for you to see you. (and that’s often.)

Naib seems like he would also dabble in Acts of Service. He’d do a lot for you, free of charge. Well, as long as you’ll cuddle him later. (Maybe make him something sweet?) The Mercenary would go as far as to kill for you, but would only wish to resort to this if necessary.

Naib is a man of few words and has his walls up at all times. (Like someone else I know… *cough cough* GANJI *cough cough*) You’ve managed to worm into his heart and he doesn’t plan on letting go any time soon.

Please hold this man in your arms when he inevitably wakes up from his recurring nightmares.

Cheerleader

Lily can be easily described as a bundle of energy just waiting to be released. She’s a great company and fills any void of loneliness in your bones. She is bright, funny, and overall an amazing person.

Lily has been cheering on others her entire life. Encouraging her brother as she watched him climb the ranks is a fond memory of hers and is cherished deeply. For these and many other reasons, Lily’s love language is Words of Affirmation.

To think that Lily’s enthusiasm would lack or stop when it came to you is just silly. If anything, it grows even stronger. You become her motivation to take on the day and the challenges that come with it. To run for her life if it meant she gets to see you at the exit game waiting for her arrival.

Please cheer her on as well, she needs you just as much as you need her.

The Seer

Eli should have predicted this, should’ve known he would fall head over heels for someone in the manor. But at last, you can’t change the past, or the future. Eli’s learned that the hard way. So while you're here with him now, let him bask in the light you radiate.

Eli Clark is one for Words of Affirmation alongside Physical Touch. Your skin is warm against his and envelops him completely. The Seer has always kept you close to him. Whether it be his hand entangled in yours, an arm around your waist, or anything else, he enjoys keeping you close to him.

Eli knows how words can affect people, so he always tries to compliment you when he can. Your outfit, your match performance, anything, and everything gets a smile and a nice compliment from him.

Please let this man wrap his arms around your waist as he hums an unrecognizable song in your ears.

The Priestess

Fiona is a self-proclaimed devotee to her god, but nowadays, she finds her devotion slipping. Her faith, disintegrating into ashes the longer she’s stuck in here. It’s given her a lot of time to think, but it’s also given her more time to spend with you. To forget about the unknown wonders of the world and just embrace your presence in its entirety.

Fiona Gilman’s love language is undoubtedly Quality Time.  She enjoys nothing more than to spend time with you outside the games. She doesn’t mind what or who it’s with, just that you're there. She also seems like she’s a sucker for picnics. Just the two of you is best, but if you insist on having others then that’s fine as well.

The Priestess has spent most of her days devoting herself to her religion and belief, which you don’t shame her for. She knows that her beliefs may not align with others, but she appreciates that you don’t give her crap about it. If she ever does find her faith in her god restoring, she would love to show you some of her practices.

Please accompany her on walks long after your curfew with only the stars as your witnesses.

ADDED BONUS’! 

 Bloody Queen

Mary was born with wealth and nobility to her name, she knows the power money has over people and the influence it can make. So she more than understands the currency of this strange manor. Not that she’s complaining though, she has more than enough clues and fragments to last a lifetime.

Mary Kriegburg's love language is Gifting. She has the clues too, so why not splurge on a new outfit for her daring? It’s the best way for her to show you that no amount of money can compare to the love that floods her unbeating heart.

If you do end up gifting something back to her, handmade or bought, she will cherish it. It may seem that Mary doesn’t like the handmade doll you made of her, but she sleeps with it during the nights you can’t accompany her. Her bed does feel cooler without you.

Please cherish everything she gives you, as she will do the same for you.

 The Photographer

Joseph doesn't get to see you often, as the two of you have your respective matches you're forced to perform in. And for whom? You'll never know. When your games are done for the day, he'll choose to seek you out. While he does prefer his own alone time, he wishes to be with you.

Joseph Desaulniers's love language has to do with Quality Time. He spends his time wisely so that he can save more for when both of you are available. The Photographer enjoys afternoon tea parties with you. Talk about anything or keep your mouth shut, he won't mind either. Your presence warms his dead body and it's such a welcoming feeling for the man that he yearns for it.

Joseph has already lost his brother in an already tragic manner, the Photographer keeps you close to ensure you don't meet an unexpected demise while he's not there. No, he doesn't want you to go back to your dorm room yet. Just stay by him for a moment longer and let him know you're not going anywhere one last time.

Please soak up the sun with him as he takes another picture of you.

note: RAHHHHHH I LOVE THIS (don’t come at me if you thought different love languages for them okay 😭)

(2024)©️fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

700 Years - Part 2

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 2K WC

Thank you to all who requested a part 2! :)

Masterlist

Warnings: soft Astarion, depression, anxiety, misinterpretation of feelings, angst, reader reverting to old habits, drow twins (precious babies), slight mention of nudity, brief (and I mean BRIEF) steamy stuff, reassurance, fluff

Part 1

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

Astarion was right, adjusting to life outside of the hells was proving to be somewhat difficult. Everything had changed, advanced. You felt like a relic, lost in time. You clung to Astarion like a scared child for weeks. You proved to be an elite combatant, a force to truly be reckoned with. You felt your powers come back to you over time. You just wished your mind would catch up. Know that everything is ok. Know that you are your own. 

You often spend your nights at the lakeside. Throwing rocks into it every so often to watch the ripples glide over the water. You didn’t expect your feelings to come back so easily, and in full force. In hell, you just turned them off when you weren’t alone. Raphael broke you into complete submission. 

“Care for some company?” you heard Astarion say.

You shrugged wordlessly. Astarion noticed your mood declining since you got to camp. You were lost. He did his best to give you space and be there for you, knowing your road was tough, just as his was. You sat in silence for a while before he spoke again.

“I know you’re in great pain, little love, you need not hide it from me.” he scooted closer to you. 

You leaned against him, feeling exhausted. Defeated. “I never thought I was going to leave the hells. Now that I have… I’m trying but… I don’t know if I belong up here. Or down there. I’m not sure I belong anywhere.” your voice was full of sadness. 

Astarion’s arms engulfed you. You clung to him, holding his arms against your chest. “I’m completely alone in the world and I’m… frightened.” you cried into him. 

Astarion took your hands and stood you up, walking you into the shallows of the lake. “Do you ever watch the ripples in the water?” he asked.

You nodded watching as the water splashed around your legs causing the whole lake to ripple.

“See how they unsettle the whole lake, delving it into chaos that will go on until it is brought peace again.” he said, now standing completely still, the lake stilling with him.

“I don’t know if I can bring myself peace.” you looked at the moon's reflection as the water stilled.

Astarion “You can… in time…. Takes a lot of work. But… I’ve got you. I’ll be here for you, whenever you want me.” he said, carding his fingers through your hair causing you to let out a small sigh. 

You leaned back, giving him a small smile. You hesitated before softly kissing his cheek. He looked at you with slightly widened eyes. 

“You don’t have to do that…” Astarion said. He feared showing any intimate interest in you due to everything you had going on, and yet - his heart felt smothered in honey when he was with you. 

Your hand ghosted over where you kissed him, “I know.” you felt bashful. You loved being around Astarion but, as of late, your body grows warm when he is near. Your brain feels overloaded with the urge to kiss him, touch him, love him. Everything about him made you feel better. He made you wonder if you could ever love again, truly love. Everyday you grew more and more convinced. He taught you how to be on your own, not constantly needing him. But now, you just wanted him near always. His presence lighting up your world. 

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

The Blushing Mermaid was loud, far louder than you anticipated. It made you wince. Watching men stumble around boorishly and women fawn over each other. It made you smile despite all the noise. Seeing people look happy after so long in a place of unhappiness, it made your heart feel full. Knowing there is always light in the dark. 

Astarion had left you in the corner of the room, trying not to overwhelm you. He told you he would only be gone a moment so you sat down and waited for him. The more time ticked on the more anxious you got. Independent or not, you were anxious like this before the hells. You looked around the patrons, spotting the pale elf at the bar top. 

Your heart felt uneasy when you looked closer. A beautiful drow woman had draped herself across Astarion. He was indulging her in conversation, even going as far to laugh with her. You couldn’t understand why you were feeling the way you were. Astarion was not yours. He was beautiful and free, just like you. He can choose who he gives his attention to. You tried to reason with yourself. All your brain could seem to logically conclude is that he didn’t want you because you had not lay with him. He was healed and could use his body for himself, and here you were. 

You quietly made your way through the crowd, tears falling despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. 

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

Astarion wasn’t one to panic easily but right now, his resting heart rate would register as a panic attack. When he returned to your little corner, you were gone. You were without weapons and your armor was in your room when he checked for you back at the Elfsong. He wandered the busy streets of Baldur’s Gate for well over an hour now. He made his way to the Lower City. This area was dangerous before the Absolute and Steel Watchers. It was a cornucopia for crime of all breeds to run amuck.

Astarion sat on a barrel at the front of an alleyway. He ran his hands through his hair and over his face. He was frustrated but beyond that he was scared. You weren’t by any means fragile, but Astarion is the one who brought you out for the night, he felt a sense of responsibility for you and your safety in an unknown place. And now you were missing his worst fear. Astarion continued to wander the city deep into the night. He wandered in and out of taverns and shops trying to spot you. He made his way into Sharess’ Caress, following the twists and turns of the building. He used to hunt here… not for blood but for souls to bring Cazador. Astarion pushed the thought out of his head, refocusing his eyes and scanning the room. He saw a door cracked open in a dark hallway, a bit of light coating the opposite wall. Might as well check, he thought. Inside he found you curled up on a bed. Two similar looking drows sitting near you. The male drow draped a blanket over you; while the female drow gazed upon your face and gently traced your features. Astarion walked in slowly, the drows looking at him.

“So you’re him?” the woman said, a look of disgust gracing her devine features. 

“Pardon?” Astarion said, confused.

“The one they cry for.” spoke the male drow. 

“How did they get here?” Astarion asked, worried about the answer.

“They walked in, looked lost. We offered them our services but instead they broke down in tears. We thought it best to keep them some place safe lest someone try to take advantage. Baldur’s Gate is not as safe as it once was.” the woman answered.

The conversation was interrupted by you stirring in bed, eyes immediately meeting Astarion’s when they opened. You sat up quietly, the drows quickly excused themselves sensing the tension in the room.

Astarion sat next to you on the bed, “Why did you leave?” he asked, sounding slightly angrier than he meant to.

“I didn’t want to impede your evening.” you said sincerely, and yet a tinge of jealousy was there.

“What are you talking about?” Astarion asked with a huff.

“The drow at the tavern… you two looked… comfortable. I figured I would leave you to it and find my way back to Elfsong. Got a little lost but the twins were very kind to me.” you played with the edges of your sleeves, mumbling your response trying not to sound as pathetic as you felt. 

Astarion’s face relaxed with realization, “Darling… I knew that drow from when I was under his power. She would give me peace for a few hours in her room, leaving me to my books and whatever else I wanted to do away from Cazador. She was a good friend to me.”

You felt foolish. He’s not yours. It’s all you could hear. You held your hands over your ears trying to make it all stop. Century after century you felt so numb, and maybe you preferred it that way. This all felt… too much. 

You pulled Astarion to you, kissing him. This felt nice, you wanted this but you had to turn your brain off for what you had to do next. You wanted him to want you, so you took the only route you knew. You started trailing kisses down his jaw, his neck, over his chest. While you pulled your shirt off Astarion looked at your face. Your eyes were vacant, like a shark. Your movements looked practiced and forced. You reached a hand to the laces of Astartions pants, his hand grabbing your wrist. You looked up at him with a blank face. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Can’t” was all he said, standing up and pacing the bedroom a bit. He laughed lightly before looking at you, “I could… but I won't.”

You hugged your shirt to your chest, eyes looking down feeling incredibly exposed. “Why not?”

Astarion kneeled in front of you so he could look into your eyes, his heart cracked seeing tears in them. “Because I know that look. I know you don’t truly want to have sex.”

You closed your eyes, tears flowing over silently. You held your shirt tighter, “I’m sorry.” you whispered.

Astarion’s face was covered with confusion. “Little love, what ever could you be sorry for?”

“That I can’t please you… like that… the way you want.” you shifted to quickly slide your shirt back on. 

Astartion breathed out a sigh, he gingerly took your hand, kissing the knuckles. “Darling we could never touch again and I’d still adore you.” he smoothed his thumbs over your knuckles before looking into your eyes. He saw doubt, caution even. 

“You are not in the hells, you never have to reduce yourself like this again. You do what you want with your body when you want to. Sex should be mutually pleasurable, and consensual the entire time. Not something you do because you think you should…. Whatever you’re comfortable with is where I will meet you.” Astarion kissed the tear on your cheek. 

You instinctively smiled at his kind gesture, knowing no expectations were held behind it. “I’m sorry I left… I want you, Astarion.” you said looking into his eyes, “I want you and it terrifies me. I just had to get away. I know you’re not mine but seeing you with… another. It planted this bitter seed inside me.” An understanding smile fell upon his face, his eyes big and doe like. 

“If it’s any consolation… I want you too.” it was your turn to look shocked, you placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Feeling out how the sensation made you feel, truly feel. 

“Was that ok?” he asked, caressing your wrist. 

You nodded, blushing, “I quite like that.” 

Astarion wrapped you in a feather light hug, waiting for you to return it which you instantly did. You two breathed each other in for a moment before Astarion leaned back.

“We should get back to the tavern.” he pecked your forehead. 

You hummed in agreement, following him through the city. Fingers laced together. 

“Can I stay with you?… I sleep better with you near.” you asked quietly when Astarion walked you to your room. 

Astarion smiled, “I’d have it no other way my sweet.”

Hello! I hope this is a good part 2! My first ever request, ahhhhh I feel so special. Thank you all for supporting my writing, it brings me great joy and comfort. Thanks for all the likes, comments, reblogs, and requests! Ilysm, till next time darlings <3 xoxoxo!!

[brnesblogposts]

Sunday serenity

(repost of old fic)

pairing Matty Healy x Reader

warnings none!

a/n, listen to 'A Sunday Kind Of Love' by Etta James :)

-

Sundays were always your favourite because there were no expectations. This morning was no different, the sunlight peering through the blinds as you stretched and slowly opened your eyes. Your gaze as you turned over was met by his delicate features, gentle breaths escaping his slightly parted lips and eyelids closed where his lashes met his cheeks softly.

Laying there admiring him, all of him. The messy curls atop his head and his tattoos which you adored. It had been a few minutes of you watching him sleep knowing it was when he was most serene, with no worries or stresses weighing him down, you stroked his cheek softly, moving hair out of his eyes. You decided to go down to the kitchen for coffee, as you were sliding out of bed though, a hand caught your bicep and you turned to see him looking up at you, still half asleep "Stay," he begged softly, his voice raspy as it always was when he first woke. Smiling down at your boyfriend you obliged and slid back into bed, he pulled you impossibly close to him and let out a moan of satisfaction as he wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck.

You enjoyed his closeness for a while before piercing the silence that had fallen between you both "We can't stay in bed forever, love." At this point, you had turned to face him, "Yes we can," He spoke while looking into your eyes and caressing your cheek "Well, maybe you can but I myself am rather hungry." In a fake stern voice "Well that is quite the predicament, isn't it? Okay, we can get up for breakfast but then we're getting back into bed, sound good?" You smiled at his antics before agreeing, the both of you clambering out of bed and heading to the kitchen.

As the kettle came to boiling point you picked it up and went to pour water into the two awaiting mugs when two arms snaked around your waist and lips met your neck "Matty I am holding a pot of boiling water," You poured the coffee' "Well put it down then," he snarked and when he knew the kettle was back down he continued his antics, swaying side to side with you. Eventually, you built up the strength to free yourself from his arms and when you turned to face him were met with a pouty Matty "After I've had some coffee and breakfast we can go back to bed and you may cling to me as you wish." You patted his cheek and sat down at the table with your coffee and bowl of cereal, Matty followed with his bowl and mug and you enjoyed each other's company while eating. As soon as you had the last sip of coffee and your bowl was empty he was reaching for your hand "Time to cuddle again!" Earning him an eye roll "Don't act like you don't enjoy it, most of the time I am prying you off of me." He emphasised and you just smiled at him as he lead you back upstairs to bed, holding you in his arms once again "Mmm," He sighed in contentment as your head lay on his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck.

He played with your hair as you ran a hand up and down his chest "Darlin'?" He broke the silence "Hmm?"

"Do you-“ He paused, he seemed nervous. “What is it, baby?” You looked at him with concern and grabbed the side of his face “Talk to me,”

“Marry me.” He looked at you not blinking, staring right into your soul “W- what?” Gasping in shock as you sat up straight, “Are you serious? This isn’t funny if you’re joking, Matthew.” Your face serious. “I want to wake up with you everyday, I wanna to laze around in bed with you every Sunday and I most of all want to spend the rest of my life with you, you’re it for me, you make me a better man, there’s nothing I want more than the honour of being your husband” He breathed as he finished and you just looked at him for a second before crashing your lips onto his, straddling him as he held the sides of your face “Is that a yes?” He broke the kiss to ask and you just laughed “Yes, Matty. I will marry you” and your lips crashed together again.

You held your hand out in front of you “Can’t wait to put a ring on that, i’ll get you one this week! You can even choose if you want,” He kissed the side of your head “I want you to pick it, it seems more romantic and personal that way, knowing this was the ring you thought would suit me best” you turned looking at him. “Can’t believe you said yes,” He grinned “Y/n Healy has a nice ring to it.” He grinned from ear to ear.

“I love you” You whispered as you nuzzled into him and as you closed your eyes and took him in you heard a faint “I love you Mrs Healy” and you both giggled. You spent the rest of the day in bed, a perfect Sunday.

——-

thank you for reading! once again, reblogs are appreciated and i hope you liked it :)

[witchymadness]

ONE BED TROPE

(w/ Gwendoline Christie's Characters)

(A/N): literally wrote this for myself bcs I just can't with how hot and sweet this woman is, but I thought you guys might enjoy too! 🥹 literally Stan Gwen for a better life. Did not proof read, pls enjoy.

(also fls this image makes me just want to sin, mame)

Brienne of Tarth

-You're a princess and she's a knight.

-Classic trope.

-You were on a journey and your father, the king, sent his mightiest guard with you in your quest, whatever it may be.

-All that good shit.

-So, one day in your seemingly endless travels with Brienne, you were bound to encounter the following scenario:

-"I profusely apologize, m'lady, but there seems to be only one more room available in the inn. And it only has one bed."

-I mean, it wasn't like you had the hugest fucking crush on this gorgeous-ass fucking woman next to you--

-Right???

-FUCKING WRONG!

-So you arrive at the room and the bed was quite spacious, seemingly a bed for... Couples.

-But your internal screaming was ceased when your amazing (mountain) of a knight offered to sleep on the floor. And of course, you couldn't let her do that!

-NO.

-"Oh, it's absolutely fine, Brienne. I insist."

-"B-but m'lady--"

-'JUST CLIMB IN THE FUCKING BED ALREADY SO I CAN CLIMB YOU, DAMN IT!'

-"It's fine, Brienne. I could use the company."

-*insert internal dying pt. 2*

-You trying not to stare while she takes off her armor was a successful, yet gruesome process.

-Facing away from her in bed because you might just freeze to death if you accidentally met her icy-blue eyes.

-"(Y/N). I understand that you are not comfortable with our predicament. Cease the civilities and let me sleep on the floor, please."

- >:0

-'HOW DARE YOU IMPLY THAT I, FOR ONE SECOND IN MY LIFE, NEVER WANT TO BE NEXT TO YOU?!'

-"Brienne, I-- listen, it's not you that I am uncomfortable with. Well... It is you. But--"

-She let out a quiet sigh as she had started to stand, but you, frustrated and quite tired of the bullshit, grabbed her arm and caused you two to come face to face.

-This slightly took her a back, but she kept her usual composure, propping you up as you still held on tightly on to her arm.

-"Lady (L/N), what on earth are you doing?"

-"I'm not letting you leave. By god, you are as slow as you are gorgeous."

-"I don't understand, m'lady."

-"Brienne, I do wish for your company. Not just this evening, but the evenings ever since I've met you and the evenings in the many moons to come."

-*exe.brienne has stopped working*

-"I understand that I may have been a little too aggressive. But my offer still stands the same. You can have the bed. It's the least I could do for the bravest knight of Tarth."

-"(Y/N)... Are you true?"

-"With every word that I have given you. By the old gods and the new, Brienne. I mean it."

-You saw the spark in her eyes, a spark of hope and maybe... Love? So, you continued.

-"I meant every compliment I have given you, every thanks, every laugh and each of those chaste kisses on your cheek when I tend to your wounds that I wish could be longer. They're all true. I mean it when I say that my bed shall always be yours. And I'll mean it everytime that I tell you how much I love you, my Brienne."

-"I love you too, (Y/N). I always have. I'll always be by your side. I shall protect you and offer my life to you, my (Y/N). Know that in my dying breath, the memories of your smile shall put me into the deep slumber with joy."

-You cried because, whew! Did you guys just get married?

-"Let us sleep then. As I await every tomorrow that I'll spend with you."

-Move over, Will Shaxbeard!

-You woke up with Brienne holding you close and you the same. You knew instantly that that is how you wanted to spend the rest of your eternity.

Lucifer Morningstar

-Little less pure than Brienne.

-So, Lucifer abandoned their post, went down to earth and met you.

-You we're a psychic.

-Supposedly.

-Well, kind of.

-It didn't matter, because Lucifer seemed to think so, so they dragged you along to fulfill their great escape of their father's plan.

-You really did not believe them, but hey, they've got money.

-You we're visiting a demon in Las Vegas.

-Suffice to say that you've seen quite the shit that day and just wanted to get some rest. And probably a beer or two before travelling of to the dreaming.

-Lucifer didn't really like sleeping, and they usually just... Do things while you're asleep.

-They're a very busy person.

-In your slumber, you'd sometimes awaken to the Morningstar cursing under their breath, contemplating their life.

-It was a strange ass mid-life crisis.

-Besides being the Devil, you had to say that they were quite charming. Polite, infact.

-They never bothered you unless they needed to.

-No one ever saw them in their raw form of vulnerability, except you.

-Or atleast, no one ever survived to tell the tale.

-Well, that night in Vegas, you've drank MORE than a beer or two.

-Lucifer said that alcohol never really worked on them. It's a celestial being thing, you wouldn't get it.

-"Well why don't you just get some rest then, angel?"

-That nickname irritated them to no extent.

-"I told you (Y/N), I don't sleep."

-"Like... You can't? Or you just don't wanna?"

-"I--"

-*annoyed Lucy activated*

-Usually, you'd back off. But in this case, you had no control and you were face to face with the Devil, for Christ's sake. Of course you were curious.

-"You...?"

-They looked at you incredulously.

-"(Y/N), just go to bed, angel."

-They did not just say that.

-You burst out laughing. Does the devil have blood? No. Can you see clearly? Absolutely not. But are they absolutely blushing like a tomato? Yes.

-They marched to the side of your bed, demanding you to shut the fuck up but to no avail.

-Going as far as to straddle you and attempted to choke you, out of their childish frustration.

-Part of them knew they couldn't kill you as you were still an evident part of the prophecy.

-But, God they wanted you to shut up so bad.

-It's an itch that grew unbearably annoying to them, to listen to you laugh. And now, especially, that you were laughing at their misfortune.

-"(Y/N), SILENCE!"

-When you realized the position that the two of you were in, you suddenly quieted down.

-Samael was the most beautiful angel in the heavens, and still retained their features even after their fall from grace.

-As the dim yellow light shone a faux halo above them, it was bitter irony.

-Your angel.

-You pulled Lucifer down next to you, then almost successfully straddling them in the same manner they did.

-"You look so beautiful, my angel."

-You couldn't remember what happened next but when you woke up, you were on top of Lucifer, head resting on their chest.

-They were wearing their own silk pajamas and you found it adorable.

-"Good morning, my angel."

-They decided that they liked that nickname better.

Larrisa Weems

-You were a fellow teacher.

-Well, you liked thinking that you were.

-You were just an intern, or as most people like calling you, Ms. Weems' assistance.

-It didn't really bother you as much.

-It meant that you got to spend more time with the Head Mistress, who to be completely honest, you were absolutely smitten with.

-You slept in your own chambers, of course.

-But one day, something completely unfortunate happened.

-A fur just happened to burst into your room while they were morphed, through the windows.

-You were sleeping at the time, but luckily, you only had a few cuts from the window shards, thanks to your duvet.

-Larissa, being the headmaster, had to take care of the whole debacle.

-She dragged you inside her chambers and started patching up your arms and the few stray cuts littered across your face.

-Larissa did look sorta pissed, while doing so.

-"Ms. Weems, I understand that I'm intruding. I can stay with Mr. Ramirez tonight and I can patch myself up, if it's troubling you."

-You offered, as Mr. Ramirez, or Gary, as you knew him, was a friend of yours before getting into the academy. And before Principal Weems, it was him who you spent most of your time with.

-"Wouldn't Gary be fast asleep by now, (Y/N)? Although, it is you. I doubt he would refuse his own girlfriend, no?"

-Girlfriend?

-"Oh, am I imposing? Forgive me. I just see the both of you lovebirds hanging around, couldn't help but notice." she hummed.

-"Ms. Weems--"

-"Larissa, please, darling."

-Ignoring the butterflies dancing in your stomach, you responded.

-"Yes, Larissa. Gary and I are just friends."

-"Oh..."

-Her expression was unreadable, and so was her tone.

-"I suppose you haven't set your eyes on any of our staff, then?"

-"Actually, I have..."

-You let out a small wince as Larissa pressed the cotton ball a little too roughly on a wound.

-"Sorry, sorry."

-Soon after she was finished bandaging up your cuts, she offered to walk you to Gary's room.

-But then you heard loud snoring and after a few more countless attempts to call the man, you gave up.

-"(Y/N), this is getting a tad ridiculous. I wouldn't mind you spending a night in my chambers instead."

-Ignoring the underlying meaning that the statement had, and you wished she meant, you agreed.

-The walk back to her chambers was a quiet one.

-"Thank you, M-- Larissa. Goodnight."

-Without thinking, you placed a soft kiss to her cheek.

-Larissa was left dumbfounded, while sleepiness visited you as soon as your head found the pillow.

-"Goodnight then, (Y/N)."

-She reminded herself to ask you in the morning on who was the staff member you liked.

-Waking up was a surprise, as you found that Larissa's hand had snaked it's way to your waist, while you had your hand on top of hers, keeping in in place.

-That's how Enid pays her 'Thing' Massages.

[harryxmarvel]

Shatter my soul ~ Part - 2

Summary : Harry has been suffering from an addiction and y/n decides to take time for herself or based on this ask

Pairing: rockstarboyfried!Harry x reader!y/n

Warnings: Angst

My masterlist

Read part 1 here

I love you and I've loved you since the day I met you. I'm sorry i couldn't realise how to be better for you for us when you were here. You were the only one who struck by me through it all and now I'd do the same for you but there are some truths you need to know before. I swore to be honest and I wanna be that way with you because that's the least you deserve.

All those your friends tell you they hate me but they spend the nights you are out in my bed. I had no recollection of the first time it happened. After a particular hars session I was high and drunk i thought it was you but when she showed back two days later I didn't stop it. I should have I knew I should have but I didn't and I don't know why I didn't.

I don't even remember what happened the night before because I was that high. It think I needed osme kind of relief that the drugs couldn't give me or maybe i wanted to hurt you. I'm an arrogant son of a bitch and you shouldn't be with someone like me. You should be with someone who would treat you well and take care of you like you deserve to be. Everyone taught us to chase money for happiness but they have no idea what losing happiness is an that's what's I felt when you left me. The last ounce of happiness walking out of my life leaving me with nothing and I wanted it back because it was everything to be an di didn't even know it until I lost it.

But i was never that kind of happiness to you. You loved doing you job, you lived little things around you that brought you happiness but I wasn't one of them because all I ever did was hurt you.

I wish there will be a day when I get to the place to be someone you deserve. I'll come find you if I ever become worthy of loving you. Untill then if that ever happens I wish you all the happiness because that is all you deserve in this cruel world.

I will always love with my whole heart y/n.

Love, your H

*

I love sunsets, the beautiful hues of colours filling the cloudy sky. Driving out to the suburbs and watching the chemtrails with her little brother every weekend was y/n's favourite thing.

"Harry called me yesterday" he says as he munches his waffles they got on the way.

"He wished me for my birthday and asked about you" he says as he side eyes her trying to see her reaction.

Nate's birthday was ten days earlier but y/n did give harry credit that he had called.

It had been almost a year since she moved away from New York. All she had there were haunting memories she wished to forget. The sun sets as they sit on the back of the truck eating the food. After reading the letter y/n knew what she had to do. And that was to get away from there as soon as possible.

She couldn't believe she had trusted people who would do this behind her back. Y/n thought moving back home would help her mend her broken heart but after weeks of crying over the betrayal and hurt she was numb.

Harry was her home. She doesn't even remember her life before him. 11years through thick and thin all for nothing. She moved out on her own after three months and adopted a puppy to keep her company. She doesn't know she would ever get over him. Would people ever get over their first love. She didn't know but she knew it will be better. It's going to get better.

Harry had been clean since their breakup and she couldn't be more proud of him. They hadn't talked or seen each other in a year. All y/n knew was she was miserable without him. After reading the letter y/n had disappeared from all of her friends life and while they were worried and had spammed her phone like they care she never replied. How do you trust someone when every single person you had trusted had backstabbed you?

*

The city was beautiful after a rain. A chill in the air making harry hug his coat tighter as he walks around. He had been doing well. His next album was ready to be released in few weeks, he was clean for almost two years but the hole in his heart didn't seem to be mending. It only grew bigger every day he was away from her. He knew she wouldn't forgive him. He also knew she was it for him but now it has all gone the drain and he has to live the rest of his life without her.

He stops to get a coffee and his eyes spots a familiar face in the corner her beautiful laugh echoing through the cafe. He spots a blond guy sitting opposite to her and his heart sinks further. Right as he was about to leave y/n's eyes meets his and a smile grazes her features and Harry returns it as y/n turns her focus back to the guy she was talking. Harry is about to walk away when y/n gets up nodding at the guy before hurriedly walking out.

"Hi Harry" she starts and Harry engulfs her in a hug which y/n happily hugs back. God knows she missed his hugs. They just made her feel like she was finally home and safe

"god....I missed you so much, how have you been?" he asks a little hesitant.

"I'm all good, created a whole new life. think I needed the change..." She ends nothing wanting to sound like it was all his fault.

"I'm really really sorry y/n... you were the best thing that ever happened to me and I just can't believe-"

"h, it's okay. I've forgiven you a long time ago." y/n cuts in much to Harry's surprise to hear she had forgiven him. " so how have you been?"

"I have been good, pulled my life together. been sober for almost two years now."

"that's really great to hear h, im so proud of you" y/n says and Harry nods with a smile. It's a little silent as they both decide how to go further from this. harry was in over his head about losing her again because that is what he deserves after everything so he was ready to bid goodbye and leave her life for good but y/n spoke up before him "You wanna grab a coffee?" she asks pointing towards the cafe.

harry was glad to hear y/n still wanted him in her life and vows to never break her trust again and to win back her trust no matter what and y/n on the other hand is ready to try to mend their broken relationship. it will be slow progress but as they sit there laughing as they share their life like they used to they both knew that they will be okay.

A/n : I know you guys wanted Harry to beg to take him back but I made this as them realising they were meant for each other. And the begging gave me another idea for a one shot so see you there. Thanks for the ask anon 🫶🏻

[luna-writes-stuff]

Jackie and Wilson, Pedro Pascal

Song link

Fanfic, gn! reader

Meet-cute, fluff

Word count: 3168

Tw: I hate this fic haha, but enjoy anyway. Also, you’re a bartender now so obvious mentions of alcohol. Paparazzi, slight anxiety, mutual pining. Making fun of paparazzi? That’s it?

Summary: You work in a local bar when the building is suddenly surrounded with paparazzi. You knew why they were there - you had already served him two drinks. However, instead of throwing him out, you got talking with him. And after a day of keeping up appearances and minding rules, you are an incredibly comfortable distraction to him.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“So tired trying to see from behind the red in my eyes. No better version of me I could pretend to be tonight. So deep in this swill with the most familiar of swine. For reasons wretched and divine.”

When a career finally takes off, it could offer one more than they bargained for. Take a wealthy lawyer, who bathes in money, but wallows in sunken dignity and dishonesty - or a proclaimed doctor, who performs surgeries and saves lives like no other, but returns home with dreadful stories of the day and baggage they wish they could have left at the hospital.

When an actor’s career begins to take off, they will gain fame. A fandom is built, money flows in, your name can be seen on billboards; it seems as if you are on the top of the world. But with that also comes the need to constantly watch what you say or what you do. Be professional during interviews, don’t spend too much time taking pictures with fans on a red carpet, don’t go out too much or the restaurant might have to close because it can’t handle its guests’ capacity.

It could bring stability, financial safety, a feeling of satisfaction - the ability to take care of those who you love and spoil them unconditionally. But regardless of how often stars will tell you that the famous life can be miserable, most fail to correctly grasp this concept.

You weren’t famous by any means. You worked in a local bar, serving local drunks and local students. So, when a crowd of people began to gather in front of your windows, taking pictures with obnoxious flashes with no apparent respect, you had been taken aback. After multiple warnings and questions for privacy, your boss had finally called the police to clear the situation. Then, after two hours, it was finally somewhat quiet again.

“She blows outta nowhere, roman candle of the wild. Laughing away through my feeble disguise. No other version of me I would rather be tonight. And, Lord, she found me just in time.”

However surprised, you were not stupid. You knew why they were here, or - more specifically- for who. You had served him two drinks at the bar before he retreated to the table in the far corner of the room, further away from the windows. He didn’t even have to say his name before you put the drinks on his tab. You didn’t hide the fact that you knew him, but he was a customer. You were not going to hinder his privacy or dignity if you could help it. Not during work hours, not after work hours. Which brought you back to the point that it was company policy that a customer on tap had to order at least one drink every thirty minutes, or they had to make room for new customers.

And thus, with the crowd finally cleared, you made your usual round of the room, taking orders and offering people their drinks. When you finally arrived at his table, you grabbed his empty glass, immediately drawing his attention to you. “Can I get you anything else?” A polite smile was shot from him as he nodded briefly, then turning back to his phone. As you grabbed a pen, you tried to strike up a casual conversation, not even thinking about your words until they were spoken: “If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you all the way here?”

Shocked at your own words, you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment, remembering his line of work and his reputation. “And if you do mind me asking, just tell me it’s work.” You quickly added, now grabbing the notepad as well. Pedro only chuckled at that, putting his phone on the table as he looked back at you: “I don’t mind you asking,” he answered. “But it is work.”

Raising your eyebrows, you nodded at him with a relieved smile. “Lucky guess.”

“'Cause with my mid-youth crisis all said and done. I need to be youthfully felt 'cause, God, I never felt young.”

Seemingly pondering his next words, he spoke before you could begin your next sentence, a gentle expression on his face. “The place I’m staying at had cameras on me at every angle. Figured I’d have a little more privacy in a downtown bar.” You pursed your lips at that, nodding sarcastically: “Ah yes, that worked great.”

Again, you squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head as you tried to correct yourself. “I’m sorry.” But instead of a stupid remark or an uncomfortable silence, you heard his laugh followed by a dismissive wave. “No, you’re fine.”

His eyes fell upon the pad before you, unseemingly changing the subject: “I’ll have another cola.” Observing his smiles and laughs made some part of confidence grow within you. All night he had ordered nothing but cola, and where you would usually tease your customers for it, you found yourself somewhat withdrawn with him.

You didn’t know if it was because of his entire reputation or simply the way he looked at you, but you were hesitant to speak your next words. But when he continued to gently smile at you, you couldn’t resist the light tease: “It comes with a lemon. You sure you can handle that?”

“She's gonna save me, call me "baby" Run her hands through my hair. She'll know me crazy, soothe me daily. Better yet, she wouldn't care.”

You didn’t know it then, but that simple remark had made him feel incredibly at ease. A day filled with formal greetings and the constant need to make himself look presentable faded the second you teased him over ordering another cola. He didn’t even have time to comment on your words, your figure already making its way back to the bar.

It was your coworker who later arrived at his table with his drink. When he couldn’t see you behind the bar, he stood up, grabbing his stuff as he made way to the long counter. He had sat down on one of the chairs, trying to subtle glance around the room trying to catch any glimpse of you.

You walked back into the building a handful of minutes later, announcing your break to be over. That had explained why he couldn’t see you. Your face lit up slightly as you noticed that he changed his seating, now in front of you as you would work. In a way, it didn’t seem distracting nor unwanted. If anything, part of it felt comfortable.

“We'll steal her Lexus, be detectives, Ride 'round picking up clues. We'll name our children, Jackie and Wilson. Raise 'em on rhythm and blues.”

“Corner got lonely?” You asked, hanging your jacket up behind you before turning around, facing him from the other side of the bar. “Music’s better here.” He countered, pointing to the box above the doorway. You followed his gaze, rolling your eyes jokingly as you spotted the equipment.

“Here I thought you were beginning to like me.” You quipped, grabbing a glass as you began to clean it. He watched you work, unsure if he should interrupt or not. “You lied,” he suddenly said, gaining your attention. His hand raised slightly, the cola clutched tight in his fingers. “It doesn’t come with a lemon.”

You grinned at him, reaching for a slice of lemon before handing it to him. “I did promise.” You agreed, returning to your work as he grabbed the slice from your hand. Once more, a silence fell over the two of you.

“Lord, it'd be great to find a place we could escape sometime. Me and my Isis growing black irises in the sunshine. Every version of me dead and buried in the yard outside. We'd sit back and watch the world go by.”

“You from around here?” He asked, trying to fill the silence. You shrugged at him, knowing it was no good idea to announce your address in a public space. But a vague idea could never hurt: “Ten minute drive,” you revealed. “Why?”

Toying with the straw in his drink as he pushed the lemon down, the man revealed: “I was wondering what there was to do around here. It’s gonna be at least two more days.”

You scoffed at that, finding pity in the fact that he of all people got stranded in a town not widely known for its publicity, media, or events. Yet, a world famous star was sitting in front of you, and you were about to announce that there was nothing to do here.

“Light shopping?” You tried to promote, referring to your local stores and perhaps three big brands. “Maybe the cinema plays a good film, but that’s about all you’ll find here.” Placing the glass back on its original place, you spun around with a dramatic gesture of your hand. “You’re stranded in the middle of nowhere, my good sir.” Humming lightly, you spoke the hooking cords of the infamous Eagles song: “Welcome to the Hotel California.”

“Happy to lie back watch it burn and rust. We tried the world, good God, it wasn't for us.”

Pedro shook his head in entertainment, earlier anxiety slowly settling down as the nerves left his system. Being around someone who was somewhat nonchalant about him made him feel relaxed in some sort of unusual manner. It wasn’t unwelcomed, though.

“Any good restaurants?” He continued, his interest growing as he tried to build up to next questions. You remained oblivious to his intentions though, and happily answered him: “Like a handful. There’s not much here.” When he failed to respond to that, you grabbed a post-it, already jotting down some names. “I could give you a small list of recommendations.”

He simply hummed in reassurance, peeking over the bar to look at what you were writing down. He could not help but feel slight disappointment as he found out you were indeed writing down names of places that sounded a lot like restaurants and cafes. So, maybe flirting hadn’t been his strong suit, but he was steadfast if he was anything. He just leaned back, leaving you to finish your writing.

“She's gonna save me, call me "baby", Run her hands through my hair. She'll know me crazy, soothe me daily. Better yet, she wouldn't care.”

When you handed him the note, he pretended to read the names, asking you a question while his eyes remained on the paper: “What’s your favourite place? One you can really recommend?”

Instead of a genuine answer, what he had expected, you laughed instead. When he looked at you, he noted the way your expression had also found slight humour in his earlier words. “Way out of my budget,” you chuckled. “Went there once for a birthday.” Then, you looked at him, shrugging as you remembered what he did in life. “Might be your alley, though. And otherwise, the local cafeteria serves amazing fries.” You put the emphasis on amazing, almost imagining the dish in front of you now. You could go for some good fries.

“Could you show me where?” His voice tore you from your thoughts, forcing you back to the bar, his eyes gentle. Instinctively, you reached for the paper, ready to start writing again: “I’ll write the address down.”

“We'll steal her Lexus, be detectives, Ride 'round picking up clues. We'll name our children, Jackie and Wilson. Raise 'em on rhythm and blues.”

You didn’t see the slight defeat in his eyes as you mindlessly grabbed your phone and started looking up addresses. If you had, you wouldn’t have even taken the card to begin with. You would have decided to tease him back on it. But you hadn’t seen it.

In his eyes, it felt like another let down. Either he was being too low-key, you were being too oblivious, or this was your way of letting him down easy. You did stand behind a bar all night. He wouldn’t be the first, nor would he be the last to try to make a move. You must have mastered turning down flirting attempts during that time.

When your eyes finally rose, you did see the way his eyebrows had furrowed slightly, or how that friendly smile had lightly faded. When he noticed you were looking at him, he gave you a questioning look. Not one of curiosity, but as if he was asking you if you had understood him or not.

“Oh.” You sighed, ultimately catching onto his meaning. Your heart skipped a beat when he didn’t try to defend himself. He had been genuine. You could almost curse yourself for not having paid more attention.

“Cut clean from the dream at night, let my mind reset. Looking up from a cigarette, and she's already left.”

“If you would be okay with that.” He added, his voice more hushed than before, almost as if you had already rejected him. At that, a feather light feeling entered your stomach, the ability to form words finally coming back to you: “The cafeteria or…” you trailed off, unsure of where he wanted to go.

At your words, that same smile climbed back, neither of you missing the slight and - unsuccessfully - suppressed sigh of relief. “Your favourite place.” He cleared up.

You nodded at him, handing him the post-it, now filled with tiny scribbles of street names. “Cafeteria it is.” You decided.

“You sure?” He asked, putting the note in his pocket, his full attention now on you. You hummed in affirmation, waving your hand off in the distance. “I can’t afford that restaurant.” You shared, but interrupted him as he went to speak. “And I am not going to let you pay for everything.”

Though he wanted to, he hadn’t argued with it that night. Nor did he the night after, or the night after that. It wasn’t until you officially started going out, that you allowed him to lay for your dinner every so often.

“I start digging up the yard for what's left of me and our little vignette. For whatever poor soul is coming next.”

And now, three years later, you were seated in that exact same cafeteria you had dined in back when you first met. When your boss had to call the cops in order to get the paparazzi to leave. It was insane to consider you had not become used to them, even if that was not a fond thing.

To him, you felt like a moment of pure nothingness; he didn’t have to pretend or hold up to any expectations. There was nothing he needed to say or needed to hear. As insane as it might have sounded to him, he simply felt like a normal person around you again. As if he had never become famous, and never played in award-nominated shows and films. And that was why he had initially fallen for you. It was because of your calming demeanour. And none of that had changed through the years.

“They’re not making it subtle, are they?” You joked, as you watched a man with his long lens camera with flash on sitting on a terrace on the opposite side of you. Fries were stuffed in your mouth as Pedro was munching away on some greasy burger. Opening your mouth in an undignified manner, you turned to the camera, flipping them off, before returning to your meal.

Pedro laughed at you, holding his hand in front of his eyes as he tried to hide himself. Grabbing the straw from your drink and the straw of his own drink, he fumbled with them for a while, before turning to look at the camera, the straws now dangling from his teeth like some sort of vampire with a new set of pearls. You snorted at the sight, banging your fist on the table as you held your hand in front of his face, pulling the straws from his mouth: “Now it has your gross bacteria all over it.” “Ew,” he returned in a high pitched voice, mocking your speech.

“She's gonna save me, call me "baby", Run her hands through my hair. She'll know me crazy, soothe me daily. Better yet, she wouldn't care.”

“This is how you get cooties,” you laughed, pointing the straw at his face in an accusing manner. “Disgusting,” Pedro agreed with a grin, pulling the straw from your fingers. Then, he stuck them in his drink, ignoring your betrayed looks. “Asshole,” you scolded with a chuckle

“You know, about three years ago, we sat right there?” His finger pointed to the bar at the end of the street where you used to work. Having now been together for more than two years, you quit your job soon after, noticing the publicity wasn’t working for your job. It wasn’t helping the bar and it wasn’t helping you. You remembered how guilty Pedro had felt when you told him, even after you had reassured him how you knew this going into the relationship. It was all the more reason for him to spoil you even more now.

“I think we caused the manager to grow grey hair prematurely,” you confessed, forcing another chuckle out of his throat. “That may have been my fault.” He added. “I walked into that bar to get a moment of peace. And that’s where I found you.”

“We'll steal her Lexus, be detectives, Ride 'round picking up clues.”

You smiled at him, fondly remembering that moment. “You could have had any model or superstar, and you choose someone who catered to local drunks.” “An important job,” Pedro added in a joking voice. You joined him: “I’m sure there are some who would agree with you on that.”

From over the table, his hand found yours, squeezing it fondly. “I don’t think I would want any model or superstar now that I know what I could have missed.” “Sap.” You interrupted, yet you returned his affectionate gesture all the same, silently letting him know you were appreciative of his words.

“I’m glad you walked in too,” you admitted. “Even though I had no idea what to say to you.” “You said the right thing,” he assured. “Besides, who else would I bully paparazzi with?” As he said that, he waved to the man with the camera with an unenthusiastic expression.

And moments like these were a perfect depiction to him why it was you and would always be you. Even with cameras on him and his privacy being scarce, you remained beside him, taking it upon yourself to mess the pictures, sometimes marking them unpublishable due to certain symbols being made on them. You were his distraction and his moment of solitude. Perhaps he would have found it in anyone else, but he had no desire to figure that out. You were with him now, and he would hold onto that for as long as he could.

“We'll name our children, Jackie and Wilson. Raise 'em on rhythm and blues.”

[stuckinapril]

how do i deal with social anxiety?

disclaimer that social anxiety is a spectrum, it comes in very different forms, and there’s no one size fits all for how to deal with it. this is just the perspective of a 21 year old girl who’s trying to get by as much as anyone else. it’s perfectly fine if my way doesn’t align with yours; the goal is to ultimately find ways that do align.

with that said!! it helped a lot to realize that most people genuinely don’t care. this is the spotlight effect—you think that everyone’s laser-focused on what you’re doing, when in reality no one’s keeping this elaborate tally of when you embarrass yourself, of when you fail at something, of how you carry yourself in general. life is hard and busy for most people, and even if they do find amusement in something you did, it’s the equivalent of looking at a funny tiktok and scrolling past it ten seconds later. just like you, most people are tangled in their own little cobweb of problems.

this is not to say that people who do obsess over other people don’t exist. they absolutely do. but their opinion should be virtually worthless to you, bc no well-rounded, emotionally intelligent person is going to be spending their free time voyeuristically hating on somebody else’s every move. if they do have that kind of time, they’re probably miserable people without much going for them, and misery loves company. the best way to respond to them is just to starve them of the attention they’re trying to evoke from you.

i really wish someone would’ve told me this in high school, bc for me high school was the peak of that kind of behavior. teenagers have not been alive for that long, so i think the concept that other people have emotions that are just as complex, just as valid, just as deserving of compassion as theirs are is pretty hard for most of them to grasp. and hell, some of them even age into adults who never outgrow the “my feelings inherently have more value than yours” “everyone else is an npc” “my impulses must be validated first and foremost” mentality. it’s like yes, you should prioritize yourself at the end of the day, but sometimes there’s more nuance to it than that & that shouldn’t just be disregarded in favor of instantaneous comfort.

also very important to note!! please don’t be hard on yourself on days where you backslide. the halcyon standard of never being afflicted w anxiety does not exist. i try to bounce back from things pretty quickly, but even i have days where i feel like shit, days where i’m anxious about what other people think, days where i’m not courageous enough to do something, days where i cry in the shower etc etc. the calmest person you know has had them. they also just tend to be the kind of person who doesn’t disclose them, so you get this larger than life aura from them that makes you think you’re defective in comparison. i promise that is not the case. you are human and it’s okay not to be perfect. the key is to hold yourself accountable and to try to do better next time.

whether you’re dealing with teenagers who’re yet to mature, adults who refuse to mature, or just anyone who’s being hostile towards you without a sane cause to be, just know it has everything to do w them and nothing to do w you. it may seem like it does, but it really doesn’t. behavior like this is without fail a manifestation of other people’s insecurities, as opposed to an actual statement about your worth as a person. as long as you’re rooted in who you are, it will never matter how other people perceive you.

[srbachchan]

DAY 5496

Jalsa, Mumbai                Mar 4/5,  2023               Sat/Sun 8:53 AM

🪔 .. March 05 .. birthday wishes to Ef Satish Kumar Paig from Kochi .. 

And the greetings of togetherness to Ef Suresh Jumani and his better half Tanya from Chennai for their 24th wedding anniversary .. 💍💕

..

the wishes do come and go from the family now known often as the Ef ..

And it needs to be told .. not be held .. 

In Hyderabad at the shoot for Project K, during an action shot, I have got injured .. rib cartilage popped broke and muscle tear to the right rib cage .. canceled shoot .. did Doctor consult and scan by CT at the AIG Hospital in Hyderabad and flown back home .. strapping has been done and rest been advocated .. yes painful .. on movement and breathing .. will take some weeks they say before some normalisation will occur .. some medication is on also for pain .. 

So all work that was to be done has been suspended and canceled dropped postponed for the moment until healing occurs ..

I rest at Jalsa and am mobile a bit for all the essential activities .. but yes in rest and generally lying around ..

It shall be difficult or let me say .. I shall be unable to meet, the well wishers at Jalsa Gate this evening .. so do not come .. and do inform as much as you can to those that intend coming ..

All else is well .. 

Getting time to spend time with Babuji and his genius, his mind his words and his immense creativity .. the essence of life resides in his writings .. and such a learning and amazed joy to be in his company ..

There is desire to share .. to share what ever little that I may interpret from his words and his memories of the times spent with him .. to lament the limited .. to be in awe of the vision and the intellect of such a being .. and wonder how ever did one think of all that was written spoken thought by him ..

HOW ..

... and a book of a collection of some of the letters he corresponded with certain individuals finds me leafing through them to meet the mind of Babuji and one such :

Apne vatavaran se koi nirapeksh nahin reh sakta  . Har pankaj mein pank ka kuch na kuch ansh rehta hai  - pankaj ko keechad lapetne ki zaroorat nahin . Kuch lapet te hain ye aur baat hai . Aap kehte hain videsh mantralay ka vatavaran ya dilli ka vatavaran aapki kavita mein nahin aaya . Itna asamprikt rehna kisi ke liye sambhav nahin . Vo kisis na kisi roop mein aaya hi hoga . aisi sadhana mujhmein aa gai hai ki kamalvatt keechad ke oopar rahoon to meri aplabhdhi  bahut choti nahin hai  .

You cannot be dispassionate or indifferent to your environment. In every lotus ( Pankaj – the one that blooms in sludge and slime viz. the lotus ) a bit of the sludge always remains – it is not essential for the lotus to wrap itself in sludge . Some do it, but that is a different matter . You say that ‘the atmosphere or the environment of the Foreign Affairs Ministry or that of Delhi has not been reflected in your poetry’ . To be so untouched for anyone is not possible . It does appear in some form or the other . I have now achieved such meditative accomplishment that remaining above the sludge and mud of the lotus is no small cognitive accomplishment for me .

.. you may wonder about the Foreign Ministry .. and Delhi in reference .. 

Babuji was the lecturer in the English Department of the prestigious Allahabad University .. he did his PhD in English literature from Cambridge in 1954 .. went in 1952 and within 2 years finished his PhD which normally takes 4 years .. his dissertation was ‘W B Yeats and Occultism’  ..

WB Yeats ..  the accomplished and famed Irish poet, who had a passion for the occult, particularly that which emanated from India ..

When Babuji returned after this achievement, a rare PhD, perhaps the very first Indian to have got a PhD from Cambridge in English Literature, he was not given the recognition he so deserved from the University. In fact they actually reduced his salary. This was very upsetting for Babuji and he resigned from Allahabad University, joined the AIR, the All India Radio as a Producer, until eventually he was called by Pt Jawaharlal Nehru, the first Prime Minister of Independent India to the Foreign Ministry, now known as the External Affairs Ministry, then headed by Panditji , to be the OSD, Officer on Special Duty in the Hindi Department, in New Delhi . 

Such learnings are indeed most rare .. and to have time now, as always, to be in the midst of all the incredible writings, is a god send .. I am blessed  .. and to be able to share some of this with all is a duty .. 

I feel your presence at the Jalsa gate .. but shall be unable to show the face ..

Apologies ..

love .. ❤️

Amitabh Bachchan

[nothums-from-tj]

I rarely see anyone talk about the relationship between the rrb I hc cuz of how abusive HIM was brick and butch were always on gard and always made sure to do their best on any missions and that made HIM always send them on missions together with out boomer cuz he thought boomer was weak and he would always blame boomer for anything wrong that happened and cuz they all were scared of HIM brick and butch didn't dare say that it was there fault and just let boomer take the blame and be punished and soon they started to always blame boomer for anything so that HIM would leave them alone and it made them be more closer and distance themselves from boomer and by the time they all were able to get away from HIM and get their life together boomer no longer saw him and his brothers as a team brick and butch were always together and when they were with HIM saw each other as the only person they had and always closed off boomer not trusting him as they were scared he would tell him anything they do wrong so boomer was alone and until they were 12(I hc they got away from HIM when they were 12) this was how the boys acted both brick and butch have been trying to rebuild their relationship with boomer but the way boomer survived HIM was being quite and not talk if not talked to and to just act like he doesn't exist he was always alone and he never knew a time were he wasn't alone

I think I know who you are so I wanna tag you so you can get the notif however you seem to want to be private to the public so I’ll keep you anonymous <3

Personally I like to think the three have a better relationship with Him rather than Mojo, since even though the two only saw these kids as weapons, Mojo is more human than Him will ever be and has a bit of an avoidant attachment style. Upon realizing the Ruffs are their own people with goals and aspirations outside of destroying the world/PPG, he shuts down, and as he realizes that he really cares about them, he tries to convince himself not to and he’d yell at/try to convince them to be on the same page he is. The Ruffs, never actually getting to know Mojo on a deeper level for that reason, end up shutting him out too, and eventually they lose contact and never really search for that relationship as much as Mojo misses having their company, and doesn’t reach out either

When realizing these kids are, in fact, people, I’d like to think that’s when Him experiences empathy for the first time. He won’t like it and he’ll be passive aggressive, and he’ll still do what he can to support any hobbies and parts of their identity. The opposite can still be applied to either or:

Mojo could also have a switch flip in him and he’d just hug them tight and swear up and down that he loves them no matter what, and/or Him could react horribly with trying to literally brainwash/blackmail/possess them (what an episode that would’ve been) to force them to pull through with his own wishes

Have you ever seen the 2003 Teen Titans cartoon?? There’s a 2-part episode as season 2’s finale, Aftershock, and the way Slade handled things at the end. Holy shit. Anyway basically how I see Him being able to control the Ruffs in the most terrifying, most dystopian way possible (will always highly recommend Teen Titans btw it’s so good, also my very first introduction to online fandoms)

Anyway it always breaks my heart to think of them separating as they get older—I get it, I do, there are just so many ways their dynamics can go. This is definitely projection on my end with my own and my sister’s relationship, however we did have a similar one growing up from what you described the Ruffs: Brick is definitely a bit parentified, and I’d like to think that he truly loves both brothers even if he struggles to show it, though he doesn’t really know/realize it until he gets older—maybe 12-13, and he either gets a little softer with them, like his teasing becoming more affectionate, and/or spending time w them more and getting to know them a little more than he did way back when

As the trio starts losing their relationships with their dads, Brick becomes their confidante of sorts—they’re still brothers, it’s not like they tell each other everything, just enough to still keep tabs on each other (“hanging w BC later” “k” // “headed to work” “don’t kill anyone” “I’ll try” type of things) and he always tries to make sure his brothers know what’s going on w him so they can find him if they need anything (they never do, it never stops him anyway)

In the case they do separate, though, I like to think their gfs accidentally help mend the relationship: so the girls are a really tight-knit group right, they bicker often and still practically inseparable emotionally—so when Professor asks the girls to invite their partners to dinner on the same night so he can get to know everyone and give his seal of approval, and each bring home a different Ruff, an argument breaks out almost immediately between the three and the girls can’t help but feel they’ve made a mistake and really like Professor won’t approve of any of them after that. It gets worse before it gets better, and Professor steps in and immediately takes role of mediator as he has for his own children millions of times. Somehow he manages to get them to talk and secretly got some of the inside scoop from his kids from what they’ve said the Ruffs told them in private and they’re able to tolerate each other again after he steps in (he approved of them all, Boomer was approved of the fastest since he’s the best influence among the three of them—especially for Buttercup). Especially as they keep dating the Puffs they’re able to see each other in lights they never had before and it shows each other how much they changed and matured and things may never be the same as they were, and that doesn’t mean that they can’t start over

Also that last part of ur ask gives me SO MUCH POTENTIAL augh the trauma responses and flashbacks and things like that. So many angst prompts running through my head now I’ll have to jot it down and try to get a chance to write it in between chapters of my current WIP

[littlest-world]

couldn't sleep and thus is the result

cw for swears and vulgar language

***

The small was a cute little fellow, but if he ever told him that he would never hear the end of it, as the small was as stubborn as a donkey and as prideful as a lion. Ironically enough those were two of the qualities contributing to said cuteness - the small's insistance on doing things on their own, and their unapologetic pride at managing great feats, with the context that for him those tasks were less than mundane, resulted in a weird combination of him being genuinely impressed while simultaniously finding the whole ordeal ridiculus or just deeply unserious.

Never the less, he did really appreciate the trust put in him by the small, and he found his company to be very much enjoyable - even if he tended to claim otherwise. He would never admit to it, but he worried about the small at times - when a storm caused a power outage he made it a point to spend the dark hours with him as he knew the small disliked such situations, and he could tell that the gesture was appreciated when the small agreed to let him hold him for a short while.

There was one incident that they had wordlessly agreed to never speak of, that may or may not have involved one or both of them ending up with a less than desirable amount of clothing near each other. Nothing had happened, of course, and even if he could never quite get the image of the smaller's jacked body - which he of course never saw - he would never do or say or think about it ever. After all, it's not like the small would ever be okay with it. Not that there was an it, of course, but in the hypothetical case where he was attracted to the small and revealed this fact to him, there was absolutely no chance that the small would take it well. So it was a good thing that he wasn't attracted to him, his life would be even more needlessly complicated than it was now if he was.

Bad thing that he got drunk and confessed his crush tho, and then ran away and slept outside in the pouring rain, and was taken to a hospital when someone found him, and managed to catch a chest infection in that time, and that he only got back after more than a week, and that in this time he forgot what initiated this chain of events. The small almost had a heart attack when he just showed up business as usual one day after disappearing for ten days right after confessing his love to him. He spent an abnormally long amount of time lecturing and cussing him out, and when he broke down eventually he had the audacity to ask whether something was wrong and if he was okay.

"NO I'M NOT OKAY YOU DIPSHIT!!!" he cussed with admirable vigor even while crying his soul out, "YOU FUCKING TELL ME HOW HOT I AM AND HOW YOU WISH TO FUCK ME AND THEN FUCKING DISAPPEAR FOR TEN DAYS WITHOUT A WARNING OR EXPLANATION OR CALLS OR ANYTHING!!!"

"I said wha-"

"I THOUGHT YOU DIED YOU FUCKING MORON!!!"

"Bit... I-"

"DON'T YOU FUCKING BIT ME AFTER ALL THIS!!!"

"Sorry..."

"YOU BETTER BE!"

"I... forgot I did that..."

"YOU FORGOT?! YOU HAVE TO BE FUC-"

It was at this point that the small's spirit broke, and he quickly devolved into a sobbing wet mess, leaving the very concerned man to mumble apologize and attempt to reassure him.

"Did you even mean it?" the smaller managed to ask through the tears as they began to subside.

"... yes, I did. I meant it."

"Do you still feel that way?"

"W-well, yes. I still think you're incredibly hot, and I would totally understand if you want to move somewhere else, and I can even help you if you want, or I could leave you alone if you want that, or anything else, I just don't want you to feel pressured into taking my help, or to rejecting it. I'd honestly do just about anything for you right now-" he continued to talk on and on nervously without at any point knowing what to say - just airing his thoughts in hopes that the small would somehow feel better as a result.

"Shut up," the smaller finally stopped his ramblings with a quiet voice, "you're an idiot. I love you too."

[stampy-offical]

More of hells little darling!

Alyx is of course the one who first comes to come to grips with their feelings.

She finds this out through a talk with rosie.

It went like 'hey..Rosie?' "Yes sugar?" 'I was talking to friends about what kind of men or women we like...' "yes?" 'Well I was thinking a tall string caraing man..maybe even one who's good with kids and is a big softie..like he's a large teddy bear." 'Stampy.' "W-what?" 'You just told me you fell in love with stampy.' "...oh my lucifer." 'Don't worry honey. Girls get time to understand who they like before they become women. I wish you the best of luck!'

Stampy meanwhile Was oblivious and both him and husk were just laughing.

Husk:so...Alyx?

Stampy:huh?

Husk:come on you get a doopy smile chuckle a lot and you even get all stary eyed watching her fight.

Stampy:aye! She's just a very good and elegant dame. I like her cause she's smart hard working and a gentler soul. Simple. You however like angel.

Husk:huh? No I don't. I pity him.

Stampy:you make him special drinks save him from loan sharks shoot at any Vee employee who looks at him funny and baby his pet pig.

Husk:...he's good company and I like Nuggets..

Stampy:sure....

*five hours of drinks later.*

Stampy:*drubk as shit*..she doseny like me like that....I'm an old sun of a bitch...I'm a geezerr...she's a young strong lady...

Husk:*also drubk* im just...*hic* just sayikg..vall..Val dosent deserve angel I..I do I treat him roght.. I make him happy and all kinds of glad...I make him feel lovesd...

*both then pass out after another hour of drinks and pretentious finds them and while talking to them.*

Pretentious:I felt that way with Cherry bomb. Just be honest and hope for the best..

Husk:*Strugling to stand* i-ii I can do that..

Stampy:*grumbling about Later with his face on the counter.*

It took MONTHS of alastor and Dawn trying to get them together before they asked Nifty for help.

Nifty cracked her neck and grabbed Al's mic and yelled into it. "JUST KISS" "AND YOU GAYS NEED TO CONFESS! GET GOING!"

Charile then found out and started doing everything in her power to help while Vaggie and Rosie set up date ideas.

Rosie got stampy and alyx on a romantic walk in the most flowery part of cannibal town.

Vaggie meanwhile shoved Husk and angel into a restaurant the hotel denizens frequent.

After the dates they got congratulations and gifts from friends.

Lucifer of course got them ducks.

Alastor gave Stampy the talk. Alo stampy did was laugh and say if anyone's killing him it'd be Alyx or Dove. Not Him.

Husk meanwhile sent a pic of a sleeping angel dust with a note 'He's mine forever. FUCK YOU! The casino master PS your staff are banned from my business'

The Vees still keep hearing the bitch fests Valentino has about it.

Vellette tried to harass Stampy about his engagement in a overlord meeting only for stampy to snap back.

Vel:come on you geezer isn't she a little young for you?

Stampy:isn't this position of power too much responsibility for you?

Vel:listen here you old fossil!

Stampy:and last I checked your love life wasn't better. Why are you here again? Oh right! Murdering your Ex! Which one was he? 1st? 2nd?

Vel:*ashamed* 4th...

Stampy:1st ex left her for her mother. 2nd left you for the neighbor. 3rd ran away with your dad. And then there's the men who used you to get to your cousins. Or your friends.

Vel:*turning red* SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Stampy:what was that old phrase? Always a bridesmaid never a bride? Well yours is worse. Always the matchmaker never the partner. I might have never dated in my living life. But at least I'm doing better then you.

Alastor:*who saw everything with the other overlords* This is a productive meeting!

Zesteail:*Laughing at Vellette*

That little dig resulted in 5 non stop weeks of vee attacks. All the while husk and stampy have the time of their lives mocking them.

Alastor meanwhile is with dove just enjoying the good married life and spending time watching their daughter enjoy her afterlife.

[krishgupt]

Ash Betrayed (Part - 6)

“I…………………………. I…………………………. I………………... I refuse to answer!” Misty said as she ran away.

“Oh Come!!!!!!!!” Dawn said as the three girls went behind Misty.

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

It was Midnight. Ash was walking around the Ketchum’s farm. He felt in peace here, with his Partner (Pikachu) by his side.

Suddenly, he heard the footsteps of someone walking towards him and he turned to see Lillie.

“Lillie, what are you doing so late at Night?” Ash asked with a smile as Pikachu jumped at Lillie’s shouldered and rubbed his cheek against her.

“//Lillie!!!!!//” Pikachu said as he rubbed his cheek against her.

“Hey Pikachu! Hey Ash” Lillie said as she patted Pikachu.

“Umm…………... Pikachu? Can you give me and Ash a minute?” Lillie said as Pikachu nodded and jumped from her shoulder. Lillie called out Snowy to give Pikachu company. Both of them went away, giving their masters privacy.

“Are you alright?” Ash asked.

“Ash………………. I-I-I” Lillie runs to him and hugs him.

“I-I am really thankful to you! I was so worried that I will never be able to go back to Alola again!” Lillie said, her eyes were a little teary.

“Hey Hey! Lillie! Trust me it was not a big deal, everything was just exaggerated if you ask me, I mean I do Pokemon battles because I love pokemon, not the titles and ranks, and if given one of these titles was enough for the wellbeing of one of my closest friends, I am ready to give it up a thousand times,” Ash said with a smile as Lillie wiped her tears and held Ash’s hands.

“Ash…………………. You are saying this right now but I know that the Title of Alolan Champion was important for you, your first league victory!” Lillie said.

“Yeah, it was a little, I will not say that I do feel not different without it, but it is negligible for the sake of your wellbeing………………………. Also, you did overhead the conversation between and Lance right?” Ash asked.

“Yeah, sorry about that, I didn’t wanted to interrupt,” Lillie said with a blush.

“So you know na that I thought about other people as well, so it is you alone?” Ash said with a smile.

“You still said that I was your first and primary priority during the issue,” Lillie said, blushing hard.

“And you were! Everytime some related to Alola happens in my life, you will be my first priority!” Ash said with a smile, sending Lillie into a dream like state.

“Ash……………………… I……………………….. I want to tell you that I-” Before Lillie could complete the sentence, her phone rings, bring her back to reality.

“E-Excuse me,” Lillie said as she left to attend the call.

“Huh? Wonder what she wanted to tell me? Ash wondered. Far away, Pikachu and Snowy witnessed the whole commotion and Pikachu facepalmed.

“//Son of @$^#^! Here goes another chance, //” Pikachu said facepalmed.

“//I thought you promised you will work on your cursing? //” Snowy asked.

“//It is better than Last time, anyways! When will Ash #%^@%^#%# understand what Lillie feels for him! Why is he so dense!//” Pikachu said.

“//Neither he nor you understand the feelings of a lady, //” Snowy said nodding her head in tiredness.

“//What does that mean?//” Pikachu asked.

“//Like I said//” Snowy said.

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

“Yeah Mom?” Lillie asked to her Mom who was the caller. Lillie stood a little far away from Ketchum’s residence.

“Lillie! I want you back immediately!” Lusamine said in a concerned and scared voice.

“W-What! Why?” Lillie asked in a shocked voice. She wanted to stay with Ash and the group longer.

“Dear, I know you like Ash and wish to spend more time with him, but please try to understand……………….…... We did not told you this before but……………… Soon after the Leaked audio, mine, your father’s and Gladion’s Passports were put under Govt’s Blacklist for no reason! Only after Ash transferred the Championship to Gladion the passports were………………………….. I-If the Passports would have been in blacklist……………….. W-W-We would have been able to leave Alola…………… T-T-T-They were planning to not let come to Alola and not let us leave Alola………….. W-W—W-W We wouldn’t have been able to S-S-S-see you Ahh!” Lusamine suddenly dropped the Phone.

“MOM!!!!!” Lillie shouted, after a few seconds, Lusamine answered.

“S-S-Sorry Lillie……………. I-I-am just………………………….…… Pl-Please come back, I know you want to be with Ash but for now please! If you want, bring Ash here but you, please come back! We don’t know what they will do next! I want the whole family in Alola! Please!!!!!!” Lusamine begged as tears came out of her eyes.

“I…………………………………… I am mom………………… I am coming tomorrow,” Lillie said as tears came from her eyes.

“Y-You will?” Lusamine asked.

“Yes Mom, I am tomorrow, I see you soon, bye!” Lillie said as she cut the phone.

“Arceus why!” Lillie said as she tried to hold back her tears.

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

“T-T-T-Thank you Arceus, M-My Daughter will be here soon,” Lusamine said as she tried to calm herself,

“MOM!!!!/Miss Lusamine/DEAR!!!!!” Gladion, Wicke and Mohn shouted as they entered with a Nurse Joy.

“I-I-I-I-I am fine guys!” Lusamine said but Nurse Joy immediately started recording her Blood Pressure.

“What exactly happened to her?” Nurse Joy asked.

“Her hands suddenly started shaking and she said she felt pain in her chest,” Gladion answered.

“Mam what happened to my wife! Please tell me!” Mohn asked in an extremely concerned voice.

“Blood Pressure is high, it is probably an anxiety attack, though carelessness can lead minor or even major heart attack,” Nurse Joy said as she wrote a few medicines on a piece of paper and gave to Gladion before leaving.

“I get the medicine,” Gladion said.

“Gladion, it is alright, I am feeling better,” Lusamine said, calming down a bit.

“Did you not heard the Doctor? YOU HAVE A CHANCE OF HAVING AN HEART ATTACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Gladion shouted.

“Calm down Son, and you, keep quiet and rest!” Mohn said as he patted Gladion’s back.

“I know, but now I have no reason to stress out! Lillie is coming back!!!!!!” Lusamine said in a happy voice, but Gladion and Mohn was not happy.

“You shouldn’t have done that, she and Ash haven’t been in contact for a long time, they should spend time together,” Mohn said.

“I know dear but…………………... I-I-I- We don’t know that the Govt is planning, I don’t want to take any risk I want the whole family in Alola!” Lusamine said as she started to stress again.

“Dear Calm down! Gladion get the medicines!” Mohn said as he tried to calm Lusamine as Gladion ran to get the medicines.

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Lillie walked to Ketchum’s Residence to find Serena and Dawn in Veranda, staring at the sky, looking upset.

“What happened guys?” Lillie asked, trying to hide her sadness.

“Oh, nothing………………………… it just……………………….. we both have to leave tomorrow,” Serena said with a sad tone.

“What? Why?” Lillie asked.

“My Mother is opening a Pokémon Contest School in Twinleaf and she want me to be there for the inaugurations,” Dawn said.

“And My Mom is taking part in the National Rhyhorn Racing, she wants me to be there for support,” Serena said with a sigh.

“Wasn’t she retired?” Lillie asked.

“She has been coming in and out of retirement for the last 5 years,” Serena said.

“Anyways, it seems you get to keep Ash for yourself for now, so jealous,” Dawn said in “Arceus Damn my life” tone.

“Yeah…………………… I also have to leave,” Lillie said as she told the two about what happened. The two immediately hugged her.

“Are you alright?” Serena asked.

“If there is anything we can do, please ask,” Dawn said as Lillie tries to hold back her tears.

“T-T-Thank you guys” Lillie said as she teared up a little.

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Serena, Dawn and Lillie announced the fact that they have to leave tomorrow morning. Ash was………………………….. not happy about it but after learning the circumstances, especially Lillie’s situation, he, along with Brock, Misty, Gary and Delia, took them to the airport with a happy smile. While he was sad from the inside, he understood the side of each of them and bid them farewell. While returning to Ketchum’s residence, both Brock and Misty received called from their families, requesting them to return urgently. Sadly they have to bid their farewell to Ash well, leaving Ash feeling really lonely. Ash, Delia, Pikachu, Gary and Professor Oak were there, but he still felt lonely, felt something was missing.

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Lillie arrived in Alola with desire to meet her family as soon as possible. When see got out of the Airport building, she saw her Mother, Father and brother. But before she could hug them, the Airport Authorities stopped her.

“What happened!!!!!!!!!!!!” Lusamine asked, being denied to hug her daughter after a few days of thinking she will never see her again.

“Pardon us mam but Miss Lillie needs to taken for questioning!” A female officer said as they tried to take Lillie away.

“F-F-For what?” Lillie questioned the stupidity of the Airport Authorities.

“We don’t know mam, we have received orders from the Department of Internal Security,” The officer said.

“What do you mean questioning!!! Is my daughter a terrorist or something!” Lusamine shouted as Gladion and Mohn tried to calm her down.

“Mam please! Otherwise, we have to arrest you,” The officers said. Lusamine and the rest of the family, as well as the people nearby protested but at the end, the authorities took Lillie away.

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Lillie was kept in a room for over 5 hours, without food or even water. No officer came to question her about anything. Soon even Lillie lost her cool.

“WHY AM I HERE!!!!! IT IS CLEAR YOU ALL HAVE NOTHING TO QUESTION ME ABOUT!!!!!! GET ME OUT!!!!!!!!!!” Lillie shouted but no one heard her. She would have been kept longer, if not for this.

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Lusamine was sick tired of waiting. She wanted to see her daughter.

“GIVE ME MY DAUGHTER DAMNIT!!!!!!!!!!!!” Lusamine shouted, like how she has been shouting for the last 4 hours, but this time, something else happened. Lusamine hands started shaking, her chest started to feel an intense pain, she wasn’t able to breath, her mind was going blank.

“M-Mo-M-Mohn?” Lusamine said in a weak tone as she turned to her husband.

“Lusamine?” Mohn said in a confused tone, not knowing what was happening.

“I-I-I-I-I-I-I- OH ARCEUS!!!!!!!!!!” Lusamine suddenly collapsed on the ground, unable to breath, feeling heavy pain in the chest, heart beat going off the rail, it was clear, it was a heart attack.

“MOM/ LUSAMINE!!!!!!!!!” Mohn and Gladion ran to Lusamine.

While this was definitely a tragic accident, it also forced the Internal Security department and Airport Authority to immediately released Lillie, who promptly told the Media about her detention. Finally, after two hours of Surgery, the daughter and Mother were finally allowed to meet and hugged each other.

“Mom……………. T-T-T-T-They told me y-you?” Lillie didn’t have the courage to complete sentence.

“I-I-It ok dear, I-I am fine now, just an open-heart surgery,” Lusamine said as she put on a brave smiled and hug her daughter. She also pulled Mohn and Gladion to have a family hug.

It will be wrong to not have the chapter end on the Aether’s family reunion.

Previous: Ash Betrayed (Part -5) – @krishgupt on Tumblr

Next: Ash Betrayed (Part - 7) – @krishgupt on Tumblr

[danganronpafan777]

Teruya Otori x Reader Comfort

A/n: Things haven’t been going great, and I had a pretty shitty day. Decided to write this since Teruya is my favorite character, and I wish I could help brighten someone else’s day. Idk, I hate how this turned out and might delete it later.

Welcome to part 4 of ideas that no one asked for; under the cut for depressing themes

"...Y/n?"

At the sound of your name, you approached the door. It was a tiring day. Every day just felt like an opportunity to prove your worth by being useful, and every day, you failed. A part of you yearned for company, while another just wanted to be left alone with your thoughts. 

They knocked at the door. You were snapped out of your thoughts and opened the door. 

You recognized the voice of course, he was your boyfriend after all. 

"Yeah, Teruya?"

Teruya held his hand behind his back and looked up at you with his green eyes that never failed to make you swoon. However, his mouth seemed to twitch, and his eyes seemed to scan you before he finally spoke,

"...Is everything okay?"

"...?"

Everything was fine. That's what you told yourself. That's how you got through every day. That's how you got through the tears and the stress. That's how you got past your sob story that no one would care to hear.

"I'm fine."

Teruya continued to stare at you. He blinked a few times before asking again,

"..A-Are ya sure? Ya seemed a lil'... off today." 

Huh... no one else seemed to have cared. So why did he? Why would someone as kind as him ever like you?

"I'm alright, what about you?"

"...I wanna talk 'bout you." 

"What about me?"

You were beginning to feel irritated. Why was he wasting his time with you? Teruya was the heir to a giant company, and loved his job just as much as he loved his friends. Why was he throwing it away for you?

Teruya was hesitant in his response, instead using his hand to open the door a bit more. Now the two of you were completely face to face. 

"..."

"..."

"Y/n, can I hold your hand?"

You were confused, but slowly held your hand out. Teruya took it, curling his fingers around your hand.

"What's wrong?"

"There's nothing wrong, Teruya."

"...You're not happy right now. And I want you to be happy Y/n."

"It's not that simple."

"I-I know...but... whenever I was sad, my pops would always stay with me and bring me som' candy, and it always made meh feel betta. So I wanna do the same fo' you!"

You couldn't help but chuckle at his expense as he brought out your favorite treats, placing them on a nearby table. He was sweet. It was only natural that he'd pity someone like you.

"I don' pity yah! I love you, Y/n!" He cried. Did you say that out loud? How stupid were-

Your thoughts were interrupted as your boyfriend threw his arms around you. Teruya nuzzled into your shoulder, the same way you would nuzzle his neck whenever you teased him. 

Was he crying too? You'd never forgive yourself if you made him cry.

"I love ya, Y/n... and I'm here for you. I jus' wan' ya to know dat..."

"....why?"

"Huh?"

"Why are you here for me? Don't you have better things to do?"

"...There's nothing more importan' than you, Y/n."

What isn't more important than you? What did he even see in you? Couldn't he see that..

"...I'm worthless." The words slipped out. You didn't even bother to stop them. It was like you wanted to say it but hated yourself for it after. Just like every other goddamn thing you did in your life.

"N-No! You're.. you're not worthless, Y/n... Why would you think that?? I- I love ya! S-So much! I think about ya every day and I don' kno' wha'd I'd do without ya!" Teruya cried, looking back up at you and holding you tighter. His words made you feel nothing but numb.

"..."

"...Y/n... have I evah told you how proud I am of ya? I'm thankful for every day I spend with ya, and our whole class wouldn't be happy without ya! W-We all love you, Y/n. I know it's hard righ' now, but I kno' you'll get through it! I'm here for you. Every step of the way." Teruya's fingers fiddled a bit with your own. He kept eye contact, even as his face was coated in a light blush.

Your eyes burned a bit with tears, but you just held him and didn't let go. The two of you sat like that for a while, and you began to tell him about your day. He stayed quiet through your rant, rubbing your back and giving your hand a small squeeze every few minutes.

Whether you knew it or not, you were everything to him. Even if you thought the world was against you, he was always by your side. Even if the world thought of you as one person, to him you were the world.

Art by @hydrabeebers on Pinterest