#you know what I got for Christmas? my next semester paid for by my parents thanks to my mom getting a job and some money my dad put aside

[forfuckssakejim]

So I’m watching Kelly and Mark rn right? And mark cuban is one of their guest and!!!!???? How and why the fuck is his daughter getting a college scholarship for fucking ROWING. Your dad is mark Cuban for fucks sake????

[doubleleoenergy]

i. Summer Bummer, Lolita Series

She just might become my lover for real. I might fuck with her all summer for real. They better not holla if I cuff her for real.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: bestfriendsdad!Andy Barber x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of erection, lewd thoughts, drinking

Words: 2168

Summary: Andy meets Jacob friends for the first time, including y/n.

“Dad, we’re here!” Jacob cried out, opening the front door to his familiar family home. 

Jacob Barber had just finished his Junior year at Columbia University and had just finished packing up his things in his apartment before driving back home. His parents had just finalized their divorce over the Christmas Break, and frankly, Jacob was relieved. His father, Andy Barber, seemed to be doing great, much happier without Laurie in his life. Maybe that was why he had agreed to let Jacob and his roommates from Columbia stay in their home for the entire summer leading up to their final year of undergrad.

“I’ll be right down, just changing a lightbulb in the bathroom.” Andy called out from upstairs, finishing his work quickly and disposing of the broken bulb in the bathroom trash can. He took his time down the stairs, smiling widely as he saw Jacob and his friends standing in the kitchen. “Good to have you home, son.” Andy announced, embracing Jacob in a warm embrace. He wasn’t lying at all, yes, he was fine after the divorce, but he did miss having his son at home playing video games or listening to his music too loud. Once Andy let go, he eyed the two other boys behind him, patting Jacob on his shoulder. 

“You boys must be Jacob’s roommates, right?” He questioned. 

“Yes, sorry dad, this is Rashad and Collin.” Jacob motioned to each of them, watching as his father shook each of their hands. “It’s nice to meet you all, and please, call me Andy. Only my clients call me Mr. Barber.” Andy took a step back, reaching into the fridge to grab a few Coors Light bottles, handing one to each of the boys before turning his attention back to Jacob.

“I thought you said there was another roommate coming, right? The one who you begged me to let intern at my office during the summer?” Andy asked, raising an eyebrow at his son.

Jacob took a swig off his beer bottle, nodding his head. “Yeah, y/n said she’d be here soon, she was just finishing up with a friend for brunch and then she was heading over.” Jacob, Rashad, Collin, and Y/N had been roommates this year in a quaint little apartment about five minutes from Columbia’s main campus. Andy had been to the apartment once to meet up with Jacob for dinner in the Fall during one of his many fights with Laurie, though Jacob’s roommates had all been out that day.

“Alright, well why don’t you boys make yourselves at home, take your pick of any of the guest rooms upstairs and let me know if you need anything. I was thinking of firing up the grill, it’s such a beautiful day out and the swimming pool contractors just finished with the new pool out back.” Andy opens the doors of the fridge again, pulling out the hamburger meat as the three men race up the stairs to look at the rooms they’d be occupying for the next few months. “Sure dad, thanks!” Jacob calls back, giving his father a short wave of his hand.

About an hour later the boys had all settled into the Barber’s backyard, speakers against the home blaring the hottest songs of the summer. Andy and the boys stood around the grill, exchanging stories of their latest semester and giving Andy a chance to get to know Rashad and Collin better. He was quite impressed with the type of people Jacob had chosen to associate himself with. Rashad was an engineering major like Jacob while Collin was studying chemistry.

After the boys finished laughing about Collin and Jacob’s double date gone terribly wrong, Jacob’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen with a smile. “Y/N’s pulling in, I’m going to go help her with her bags.” The other boys stayed next to Andy, watching as he flipped the last set of burgers on the grill.

“She’s gotta look heavenly in a bikini, right bro?” Rashad asks Collin, nudging him playfully in the side.

“You got a thing for y/n? Because I don’t think it’d be too appropriate to get with someone you are living the entire summer with, especially under my roof.” Andy objected, removing the burgers off the grill and onto the plate beside him.

Both Rashad and Collin burst out laughing, taking swigs from their beer bottles as they do. “Nah, Andy. Y/N’s a smoke show don’t get me wrong, but we can look but don’t touch. She’s not a relationship type of woman anyhow.” Rashad teased.

Just as the two boys finished their snickering, Jacob opens the screen door, the two immediately jogging up to give y/n a hug. 

“What, you boys miss me that much after being apart for only a day?” She teased, Collin finally releasing her from his death grip. Jacob pulls y/n out into the yard, stopping right in front of the grill where Andy was turning off the burners.

“Dad, this is y/n.” He gestures towards the woman beside him just as y/n sticks out a hand for Andy to shake.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Barber, I’ve heard so much about you.” Andy finally turns his head in the direction of her voice, his eyes locking on hers as his heart skips a beat in his chest.

“It’s nice to meet you too, and please, call me Andy.” He reaches forward to shake her hand, taking in the whole sight of her. Her hair hung in loosely tousled waves down her back, stopping just above her breasts that were jutting out of her black lace bodysuit, which clung tightly to her hourglass figure and was tucked into her jean shorts that barely seemed to cover her ass. Her lips were plump and juicy, the color of a glass of fruit punch, a dotting of light freckles across her cheeks. Her eyes were striking, she wore no mascara, yet her lashes were thick and long. She was breathtakingly beautiful, a ‘smoke show’ as Rashad had said, indeed. 

Y/N watched how Andy’s eyes engulfed her body, tilting her head to one side as she pretended not to notice. “Well Andy, thank you again for letting us all stay with you this summer, and thank you for the internship. I would rather work a paid internship than work with these boys anywhere.” She teased, ruffling Jacob’s hair.

“It’s no trouble at all, our office could use a good intern for the summer.” He agreed, eyes lingering a little too long on her perky breasts again.

“Maybe we can carpool to work, I’m all about environmentalism.” Her words are flirtatiously drifting off her tongue, a seductive smile spreading across her lips. Was Andy imagining this?

“R-right, yeah sounds good.” He moves to grab the plate of burgers by the grill, gesturing to the house. “Boys, please bring out the salad, condiments, and tableware from the counter and come set the table. Oh, and get y/n a beer.”

Andy moves to the patio table and sets down the plate of burgers, watching y/n as she slowly sinks into the chair next to him. He catches a whiff of her perfume, a heavenly mix of oranges, vanilla, and sandalwood wafting through his nostrils. It’s the perfect scent for her, he thought, moving to sit at the far end of the table.

The boys come back with all the supplies for dinner, including y/n’s beer, which she is already nursing happily from. Andy’s eyes focus on how her lips wrap around the top of the glass bottle, clearing his throat as if to rid himself of his dirty thoughts.

“So, y/n, what made you want to intern in my office?” He questioned, assembling a burger onto his plate. Y/N tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, carefully putting a helping of salad onto her own plate before assembling the rest of her meal.

“I’m completing my undergraduate degree and then hopefully getting admitted to law school to become an attorney. I figured interning in a real office would be a great first step.” She stuck her fork into the salad, opening her mouth to take in the bite.

“So, what are you getting your undergrad in?” 

“My major is human rights with a minor in economics.” Her eyes met Jacob’s, a smile spreading on her face. “That’s how I actually found out Jake-y here was looking for another roommate. We had microeconomics together. Then I got introduced to these two losers-“ She teased, motioning to the other two guys at the table who feigned hurt expressions. “-and the rest is history.” The boys next to her were all chowing down as usual as if they hadn’t been fed in days.

As they take the time to finish eating, y/n lets the boys do most of the talking. She’s not a huge sharer when she first meets people, and frankly she’s glad to have the guys around to keep her entertained all summer. The dinner is spent catching way-too-long glances from Andy, his eyes lingering on hers for a bit too long here and there. There’s something about him that intrigues her, maybe it’s because he’s not a boy but a man, or maybe it’s just her usual game of cat and mouse, men usually fell to putty at her feet and she assumed he’d be the same.

“That was great dad, thank you.” Jacob says, finishing his third burger of the night. “Anyone up for a late-night swim?” He asked, standing up from the table and picking up a few of the items from it to take them inside. Rashad and Collin follow suit, with y/n trailing behind.

“Sounds good.” Rashad replies, going over to set his plate in the sink before bounding up the stairs. Andy walks back in as the four head upstairs to change, turning on the sink and rinsing off the dishes before setting them in the drying rack on the counter.

Shortly after finishing washing his third plate, he hears the boys running down the stairs, pushing each other to see who can do a cannonball in the pool first. Andy can’t help but chuckle to himself at their energy, it truly was nice to have noise in the house again.

“Can I help you, Mr. Barber?” Andy turns his head to the soft voice behind him, his cock twitching in his jeans. She’s standing in front of him in the tiniest floral bikini he’s even seen on a woman, the bottoms barely covering her slit and leaving nothing to the imagination of her ass.

“It’s Andy.” He chokes out, licking his lips before turning his attention back to the sink. Y/N sashays over to his side, grabbing the clean towel off the counter and starting to dry the dishes as Andy sets them into the rack.

“Right, I’m sorry, Andy.” Her eyes trail over his figure as she speaks, he can feel her eyes on him, and he shifts his weight as he stands to make sure his cock couldn’t be seen through the fabric of his jeans. “Thank you again for letting us all stay here; I was hoping not to have to deal with another summer bummer.” Her thin fingers set each dry dish carefully atop the other, Andy’s eyes glancing over one last time before he turns off the water, drying his hands on a clean towel.

He clears his throat. “Of course, any friend of Jacob’s is a friend of mine.” Suddenly, as if his ears are burning, Jacob opens the screen door sopping wet.

“You coming y/n?” He asks, cocking an eyebrow at her. 

“Yeah, I was just helping your dad clean up.”

Andy shifts uncomfortably, trying to hide the erection in his pants. “Hey kiddo, I’m going to bed, you guys have fun tonight.” He turns to walk down the hallway of the first floor to his bedroom, hearing y/n’s soft voice echoing out to him.

“Goodnight Andy.” She purred, Jacob finally picking her up over his shoulder and carrying her out to the pool area, her cries of protest lingering as he shut the screen door behind them.

Once locked away in his room Andy let out a sigh, undoing his jeans and letting his cock spring free from his underwear. He couldn’t believe the way he was getting hard for his son’s best friend, he hadn’t even had a chance to think of another woman since the divorce, but y/n just had this sickeningly sweet seduction about her, he knew it matched a certain name.

“Lolita.” He murmured, and though she wasn’t a 12-year old girl from the novel, because ew, he did seem to have some sinful obsession with her after having just met. Is this love or lust or some game on repeat? Andy didn’t know, but one thing was for sure, he was definitely about to jerk off to sexual thoughts of her in that bikini.

Tagging those who may be interested. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list: @midnightf @my-divine-death @saamwilsonn @fierylibraa @fuckandfluff​ @rattlemyb0nes​ @rootcrop @goldenboysteve​  @turtoix​  @jeremyrennermakesmesmile​  @ccmarvelxx

[blxetsi]

Can I get some Reiner content pls? Hcs with the kids, cooking, date nights, embarrassing moments, pets, anything!

tysm for requesting !

reiner braun dating headcanons (modern au)

college!reiner braun x gn!reader

warnings: nothing i think, lol meations of his weird parents 

- reiner would be SO NERVOUS around you when he realized he liked you

- definitely started out as friends to lovers, you knew each other through a mutual friend bertholdt, but really became friends when you shared a class one semester

- when he realized he liked you it was in the most mundane situation ever,,, you, reiner, annie, porco, and bertholdt had gotten together for a movie night, and he was literally just about to put his hand on ur shoulder to ask if you wanted a drink (he was gonna get one for himself) and his hand stopped mid air when he realized he had butterflies LMAOOO

- this mf would become sooooo on edge around you,, like you knowing he had a crush was the end of the world 🙄

- annie and bertholdt would talk to him about it (and by that i mean annie would call him a big baby while bertholdt nods along) and then he'd become more relaxed with you once more

- when you two started dating he became nervous ALL OVER again

- insecurities and doubts came seeping into his mind and he wouldnt help but be overbearing at times

- he just wanted to be a good bf 🥺 he doesnt want you to leave him 😭🤚

- you two talk about it one night and it helps calm his doubts

- thats also the first night you two slept in the same bed 🤩

- he was so blushy the next morning, he couldnt look at you without his face and ears becoming red

- is a total tiny spoon idc idc

- sometimes he babysits his cousin gabi when he goes home, so when he took you with him for the first time (it was christmas break) you got to meet her !!

- shes a hyper little thing but so sweet, and she practically DEMANDS that reiner let her paint his nails for him 😭🤚

- you also meet her friends too !! but she tells you that the blond boy falco is her BEST best friend, as opposed to her regular best friends

- you can tell reiner is on edge during family dinners, especially the one you guys had on christmas day, and when you two get to campus you ask him whats wrong

- he tells you that his relationship with his family is a bit strained, primarily his parents

- he loves them of course !! but sometimes they just make him feel,,, not good

- but he reassures you that its okay, and that hes glad they didnt start anything when you were there

- you dont believe its okay but you dont push him

- he brushes the tip of his nose a lot, especially when hes nervous

- its not him like,, picking it or anything he'll just rub the tip with the knuckles of his index finger, he looks rlly cute doing it

- also tries to get you to go to the gym with him, bertie, and annie

- if its something youre into then great !! he keeps inviting you, but if you arent into it he gets a little sad :(

- but its okay ! you try to see him after his workouts with water and something for him to eat

- this is what makes him bring up living together

- i mean, annie practically lives with him and bertie now, whats one more person ?

- and its better because you wont have to come all the way from your apartment to his just to wait for him,,, you can be at HOME and do stuff until they come back from the gym

- it takes a little bit of swaying, but then he brings up being able to spoon him EVERY NIGHT and youre sold 😐👍

- you dont want to ogle at your bf so much,, but seeing him carry boxes from the foyer of the apartment to his bedroom where youre unpacking things is a,,, sight to see

- you asked him to just keep holding the box he had in the doorway of his room while your eyes roamed his arms and chest,, specifically his biceps and pecs

- YOU GOTTA BIG TITTY BF 🥰‼️

- he just stands there like 🙁 until he finally says "y/n please my arms are getting tired just tell me where to put it" lol No ❤️

- after you move in with him and bertie, things get a bit more cramped, specifically in reiners room

- its nothing you two cant handle, just with your things there sometimes its hard to find things, or youre bumping into dressers and tables and beds

- and lets be honest reiners room isnt even big enough for REINER

- so after a year of enduring it, you two decide to get a place of your own !!

- you got two bedrooms so one you could turn into a shared office and the other you could make your bedroom, and this makes things WAYYYYY easier

- by the time you move in youre already so close to your two year anniversary

- you dont think anniversaries are that important so you guys just went out to see a movie last year, but this year ?? reiner has something PLANNED

- and u know this bc you mightve accidentally found his laptop still open in the office,,, with "anniversary plans" written out in a google doc,,, and reiner was in the bathroom and you were nosy,,,

- so you snooped and read it all 😐🙄

- when reiner brings up youre anniversary youre distracted so you say "babe ill do what you got planned dw"

- he just looks at you like "how did you know i had something planned 😃⁉️"

- ANYWAYS LOL

- after that awko taco moment you play it off like "oh i just assumed lol" AND HE BUYS IT !! AHAHAHAHHAHA

- you two go out dressed to the NINES 🤩✨ and you had this weird night on the town 😭😭

- you guys did that food trend on tiktok where you do rock paper scissors and the winner gets to choose drinks, food, dessert etc..

- then you took everything and had a little picnic in the park, and you watched the sunset together 🤩🤚

- then he took you to a fireworks show they had near downtown, and watching the colours mix with the stars in the sky was so beautiful

- it started raining after tho 😭😭😭 and you two had to run back in the rain to the car like it was a MOVIE

- it was an unconventional kind of anniversary date but it was so fun, and reiner was so glad you enjoyed it

- then he brought up what you two would do after college

- "so,, graduation is in a couple of months, and ive already got a job set. and i dont know about you but, im staying in the city after we graduate. i just wanted to know if youll be moving out or, going somewhere else..."

- your heart BREAKS bc youre so sad hes just assuming that youll leave him after graduation, WHICH YOU WONT DO

- you have a paid internship at a facility in the city, so you tell him exactly that and that youll stay with him if its what he wants

- you can tell hes more than relieved, and get so blushy when you kiss his wet face all over

- "reiner i love you."

- HE SHORT CIRCUITS. SWERVES ON THE ROAD AND EVERYTHING !

- but he tells you the exact same thing

- "y/n i love you too."

- and he really does

ive just realized this and all of my other dating hcs arent actually headcanons so much as ideas that i put in point form 😐🤚 gotta work on that 😁👍

anyways requests open hope u enjoyed

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

For a prompt, maybe Bobby having a job in high school where he teaches guitar to kids and Emily and Mitch mistakenly sign Luke up for lessons? (Bobby just doesn't sound like a teenager on the phone) Belated congratulations on the 500 milestone, btw ✨

Here you go, friend! I hope you like it! My first jatp AU fic lol :)

Read on ao3 here:

--

Here’s the thing: Luke already knows how to play the guitar.

Has he ever taken a lesson? Officially? No, of course not, because he’s not a nerd. But he’s been learning from YouTube tutorials for almost six years now, been writing his own stuff for four, been the lead singer and guitarist of an epic, legendary rock band for two. He’d say he’s pretty well covered in the “knowing how to play the guitar” department, without some crusty old guy showing him the chords to songs no one’s listened to since the 60s in the grimy basement of a church two hours a week.

And yet, here he stands, on the sidewalk outside said church, guitar case in hand and a truly menacing grimace on his face, staring up at the hand-painted sign on the door detailing “Guitar lessons for kids! Room B38” in big block letters.

“Well?” Alex, who drove Luke here because Luke is currently not on speaking terms with his mother and father out of pure unadulterated spite, claps a hand on his shoulder, already stifling giggles. “You ready for your lesson, kiddo?”

“I will kick you out of the band,” Luke threatens.

“Then you can walk home.” Alex jingles his keys teasingly, then tugs Luke into a quick hug. “Come on, man, I think it was a nice gesture. Try to make the most of it, at least your parents are trying.”

Right, because the whole reason Luke’s here is because his mom thought the lessons would be a good reward for Luke passing all his classes this semester. Because she heard him complaining that Sunset Curve needed a rhythm guitarist to fill out their sound and decided that meant he needed to learn how to do it himself, even though Luke tried to explain to her that he couldn’t play rhythm guitar and face-melting solos at the same time.

Of course, she didn’t listen, and then his dad found a flyer for this guy Robert giving lessons out of the local church, and before Luke could say no, the first month’s worth were already paid for and he didn’t have a choice.

And he supposes Alex is sort of right. At least his parents know what a guitar is. At least they’re trying to be somewhat, relatively supportive of his music, instead of pushing him to apply to college or get a job over the summer like they did constantly until he ran away for six months after Christmas and almost died (he’s fine now, but that near-death experience really changed his parents’ tune).

At least they actually acknowledge that he’s in a band at all, unlike Alex’s folks, whose friends think Alex volunteers at homeless shelters in his free time, or Reggie’s, who just don’t care.

Luke knows he’s got it good, compared to his friends, compared to himself a year ago. But that doesn’t mean he’s gotta be happy about it.

“All right, I’ll pick you up in an hour,” Alex says, giving Luke’s shoulder another friendly squeeze. “Try not to pout so much, it’s unbecoming.”

Luke gives him the finger, and Alex’s laughter echoes behind him as he heads back toward his car.

And then Luke sighs, grips his guitar a little tighter, and heads inside. He’s already here, he might as well get it over with.

Room B38 is a tiny classroom deep in the bowels of the church, reserved for Sunday School or daycare or some other such activity. The door’s closed, so Luke knocks, and a voice from inside calls, “Come in!”

A voice that does not sound like it belongs to the crusty old man Luke had been picturing.

He frowns, wondering if maybe he’s in the wrong place, but tugs the door open anyway and maneuvers himself and his guitar inside.

There’s no crusty old man waiting for him. There is, however, a handsome (Luke can’t help noticing and then feels stupid for noticing), young man, no more than a year or two older than Luke at most, sitting in a comically small plastic chair and tuning an acoustic guitar.

“Hey,” Luke greets him, raising an awkward hand. “You’re… Robert?”

“Please—Bobby,” the guy corrects, laying his guitar down on the carpeted floor next to him so he can stand and shake Luke’s hand. There’s a gleam of confusion in his eyes, and he glances over Luke’s shoulder like he’s looking for something as he says, “You must be Luke’s… older brother?”

Oh, Luke is going to kill his parents. “Uh, no,” he says, clears his throat awkwardly. “No, um… I’m Luke.”

Bobby lets out an undignified snort, and then claps his hand over his mouth. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, still sort of giggling. “I shouldn’t laugh, it’s just—most of my students are in the four to twelve age range? I thought you’d be, like, eight.”

Luke rolls his eyes. “Well, I thought you’d be, like, sixty, so I guess we’re both disappointed.”

“Not disappointed,” Bobby corrects, and his smile makes Luke’s stomach flip in a way he’d really rather not analyze too closely right now. Bobby nods down at the guitar case in Luke’s hand. “Should we get started?”

Luke’s tongue feels dumb and thick in his mouth, but he manages to stammer something vaguely affirmative, and Bobby grins at him.

They settle into the kiddy chairs across from each other, and Bobby picks his guitar back up while Luke pulls his own out of its case.

He briefly considers pretending to actually need guitar lessons so that Bobby will have a chance to show off, because Bobby’s cute and funny and clearly cares about music, and Luke doesn’t know how to flirt.

But Luke also doesn’t know how to play guitar badly. So they only get about twenty minutes into the lesson before Bobby stops and says, “You don’t need me, do you?”

“I really don’t,” Luke apologizes. “I play lead guitar in a band, I’ve been teaching myself since I was twelve, my parents are just—” he starts to say stupid, then remembers Alex’s words and amends—“a little clueless about this kind of thing.”

Bobby puts his guitar aside and leans forward in his chair. “What, have they never heard you play before?”

Luke resists the urge to roll his eyes. “No, they have, they just. We’re looking for someone—my band and me—to play rhythm guitar for us? My parents asked why I couldn’t do it, and when I explained it to them, they thought ‘I can’t play lead and rhythm at the same time’ meant I couldn’t play rhythm at all. I don’t know.” He shrugs a little, busies himself with putting his guitar back in its case.

“I could.”

Luke looks up, frowning. “You could what?”

Bobby raises his eyebrows pointedly, nods at the guitar lying at his feet. “Play with you guys. If you’re still looking for someone, I mean.”

Luke’s heart skips a beat, and a warm smile spreads across his face without his permission. “Seriously, man? That’d be amazing! Here, let me give you my number and you can come over sometime and meet the band.”

They exchange information, and Luke spends a little too long staring stupidly at the contact in his phone that Bobby has named “Guitar Teacher <3”.

“Plus,” Bobby says, and Luke looks back up to see him smirking as he returns his own phone to his pocket. “Now I get an excuse to see you again. Since you obviously don’t need the lessons.”

“Yeah,” Luke agrees. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“But, uh, maybe don’t tell your parents that. Cause I can’t give them a refund.”

--

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @apples-bees @reggiescrookedteeth @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @shellydominique @julieandthequeers @joyandthephantoms @it-tastes-like-lizard

[inskz]

lucky charm - lee minho

pairing - lee minho x reader

genre - college!au, best friends to lovers, very cliche fluff (lucky girl starring lindsey lohan kinda vibes???)

words - 4k

note - this is just a cute little drabble i wrote while im still waiting for my covid test results to come back so that i can leave my room and see the sun again 🤪 pls be careful everybody take care of your health 💚 enjoy!!!

- - - - -

“You must be kidding me,” you sigh when you see Minho’s hand has turned into a fist, his rock crushing miserably your scissors. Once again, you lost at rock, paper, scissors. And once again, you’re the one that is going to wash your best friend’s dishes that have piled up in is tiny kitchen sink throughout the week.

“Fuck that. This is so unfair,” you grumble, throwing the dishtowel in Minho’s stupid yet perfectly chiseled face.

You make a beeline for his bed, which is actually only a few steps away from the kitchen. Being a broke college student definitely doesn’t allow him to rent a spacious studio, let alone a two-room apartment. You throw yourself headfirst onto his uncomfortable mattress, whose springs always poke your back at night.

“Life is so unfair,” your friend mocks you, dragging out every vowel of his sentence dramatically.

No doubt, you would be strangling him at that very moment if you weren’t so busy playing dead, hoping he would forget about your pitiful existence.

But there is no way mister Lee Minho would miss out on an opportunity to have his gross plates cleaned by someone else. Grabbing onto your ankle, he drags you out of bed until you plop down on the dirty carpeted floor (Minho has the unfortunate tendency to procrastinate vacuuming too). At this point, you are fake crying, throwing a literal tantrum, like a 6 years old child would.

“Life is unfair!” you yell, your feet kicking in the air in pure anger.

At least it is to you. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been lucky. The only instance you got remotely close to it was when you found a four-leaf clover last summer. Well, only if you disregard the fact you stepped into dog poop  on your way to picking it. Oh and that you were wearing brand new white Converse. 

On the other hand, it seems like the boy has the whole crew of the Olympus gods on his side. Not one day goes by without his guardian angel manifesting its presence. 

Minho has always been the lucky type. The type to get an extra nugget in his box of 10. To find 20 dollars bills on the ground. To win every single Instagram giveaway he participates to (and lord knows how much he likes participating to them). 

But how can you be mad at him when he always happily shares his food with you, invites you to the restaurant without you even asking, and gives you his prizes, pretending he doesn’t need them? You don’t believe him when he says he see no use in a panda onesie or a waterproof bluetooth speaker. Deep down, you know it’s his way to silently love you. 

But well, you can still blame him for occasionally taking advantage of your misfortune to make you do his dreaded house chores, just like right now. 

Everyone thinks you are a bizarre duo. Even you can’t fathom how in hell you two became best friends, considering how awfully your first encounter went three years ago. 

On orientation day, he asked you for the time, probably because his phone was dead (or maybe because he was dying to talk to you?)

Without hesitation, you lifted and rotated your wrist so that you could see your watch. Little did you remember; you never actually owned a watch and you were holding a fancy 7 dollars iced coffee, which, of course, did not have a lid on because plastic is bad for the environment (duh). 

Minho couldn’t help but burst out in hysterical laughter when the whole drink spilled on your jeans. For your defense, you didn’t sleep at all the night before  since you were terrified of being alone in your new dorm room the first few days (weird stuff happens all the time in dorms, okay?). If he had asked you for your name, you probably wouldn’t even have been able to tell him. 

But Minho thought you were the funniest person on campus, and he really needed a clown like you to entertain him throughout his endless college semesters. That’s what he told you anyways. Not that he thought you were the cutest human being he had ever seen. 

Why would he when you are the literal definition of a mess: always having toothpaste stains on your sweater, bags under your eyes, messy hair, tripping and falling, missing buses, breaking things, losing stuff. 

Most of the time, you just forget your keys and Minho lets you crash at his place since he hasn’t got any roommate and he isn’t used to sleeping alone, especially without his cats. It surely isn’t because he loves waking up next to a very groggy but adorable you every single morning, no.  

Minho manages to bring you back to the countertop despite your reluctance. Positioned behind you, his arms trapping your body to make sure you can’t run away from your duties, he dips your hands into the soapy water, and you can’t help but squirm at the touch of an unknown substance sticking to a plate that has probably been soaking here for a week. You despise doing the dishes and your friend knows it.

You hear him giggle in your ear while he is playing with your arms like you are some type of marionette, making you to take the sponge and squeeze dish soap onto it. 

You’ve never been the kind to like proximity nor seemed to be Minho, but for some reason, you always end up glued to each other. You hate public displays of attention and pet names a little less when it comes from him. Or maybe you don’t hate it at all and actually crave it every single minute that goes by.

Before he has the time to come up with the Machiavellian idea to soak your pajamas in dirty water (because you know he would inevitably have at some point), you yank his hands off of you and start scrubbing angrily the dirty cups. 

Minho stays behind you anyways, observing your every move, his chin propped up on your shoulder like a curious little bird. To be honest, his presence is kind of getting overwhelming. But whatever, it’s not like his slightest touch makes your heart warm up in comfort or that he smells like fresh linen drying out on the porch of a cottage house on a sunny Sunday morning or anything. 

“You missed a spot. Here” he murmurs teasingly, his lips almost touching your earlobe, while he points at the handle of his hideous ‘world’s greatest dad’ mug Jisung gifted him last christmas. 

You know he has noticed the way you shivered violently at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin because he starts snickering loudly. 

“I swear to god if you don’t shut up and go seat on the couch, I’ll slap you so hard with this spatula you’ll regret you were even born,” you say, turning around suddenly to menace him with the plastic utensil. 

Of course, he isn’t afraid one bit. Right now, you really wish you could make the smug, but oh so attractive, look on his face disappear. 

“Alright, ma’am” he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll let you do your thing”. He lets himself fall onto his dingy couch. 

You can hear him humming one of his favorite songs above the sound of the water running. It would probably be getting on your nerves if his voice wasn’t so pretty.  

��Chan’s sick, so we’re not going to the gym tomorrow night. Do you wanna eat tacos? El Huero has even better deals than usual” he asks you, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. 

“Aren’t the deals supposed to be on Tuesdays?” You frown and scrub a little harder the frying pan Minho has burnt the night before while trying to make chocolate chips pancakes for diner, because why eat savory food when you can have dessert for every meal, right? It is one of the few advantages of living without your parents you both truly enjoy. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Tomorrow,” he yawns, probably exhausted after what you put him through last night. You forced him to catch up on the entire season of Love Island because you desperately needed someone to bitch with, and what better partner than Lee Minho.  

You take a quick glance at him and see him stretching himself across the cushions like a cat. You always thought there was something feline about his features. While you’re drying the mugs with the dishtowel, your mind wanders uncontrollably, thinking about his piercing eyes, his delicate nose, the corners of his lips that curl up a little… 

All of the sudden, your hands freeze. Minho is too immersed in TikToks to notice the stupor on your face. “Wait. Today is… Monday?” you stutter. 

Alarmed by the sound of your voice, his eyes finally leave his phone’s screen to look up at you. “Yeah��� he repeats slowly as if you are the dumbest person he has ever encountered. 

And you truly are. You are pretty sure your heart has stopped beating. Minho’s “world’s greatest dad” mug you’re holding slips between your fingers and comes crashing on the floor with a deafening sound. The pieces are now scattered all around you, making you unable to make out what’s written on it anymore. Not a big loss, if you ask. 

“Y/N, you know that’s my favorite mug!” he exclaims, leaping up from the couch. “I’m sure you did it on purpose,” he mutters while he’s trying to collect the small fragments, in vain. 

But you’re too shocked at this very moment to pay attention to the glare your friend is giving you. To be honest, Minho has only two moods: glaring at you or teasing you.  

“My interview,” you finally manage to say, and Minho’s eyes go wide as he realizes the critical situation you’re in. 

You check the time on the microwave: 10:45. In 30 minutes, you’re supposed to be on the other side of town, being interrogated by boring businessmen that are going to decide whether or not you’ll be accepted for a paid internship in one of the most reputable music label of the country. Basically, decide whether you’ll live a happy and fulfilling life, working in the sector you’ve always dreamed of or end up miserable with a boring office job and a massive college debt. 

“Holy shit,” Minho whispers. You can see a wave of panic washing across his face for a split second, but, as always, he manages to find his composure back immediately. 

He has never been the kind to lose his cool, except to scold you when you forget the names of his cats and their respective coats’ color (which you unfortunately often did forget). 

“What are you doing? Get dressed!” He tells you when he sees you’re still standing there dumbfounded in the kitchen, like the famous Robert Pattinson meme, wearing an oversize Kermit the frog shirt with a dozen holes in it and his favorite Adidas sweatpants you always stole from him.

“No, it’s too late. I can’t make it,” you mutter, your breath short. You’re paralyzed, as if there is a 20lbs rock sitting at the bottom of your stomach, pinning you to the ground. 

This isn’t bad luck, you think. This is karma. This is what you get for skipping classes to watch telereality shows in your bed with your best friend and not even realizing it isn’t the weekend anymore.

“Miss me with that bullshit.” He runs to his closet and rummages through his drawers, throwing every piece of clothing that’s on his way to find an appropriate outfit that would fit you. 

“You’re gonna go do this interview even if I have to drag you all the way there.” He pushes you into his bathroom since you still haven’t moved an inch. 

You manage to brush your teeth and your hair, fighting through the nauseous feeling that is building up in your tummy. 

When you come back to the living room, Minho has found dress pants and a sweater that might not look utterly ridiculous on you. He lets you change in a corner, while he runs around the room collecting all your essentials. 

“You’re coming?” you ask him when you see he is already wearing his puffer jacket.  

“You really think I’m gonna let you go all by yourself when you’re literally not even able to put your shoes on properly”. You are, indeed, struggling with your laces, as if your fingers are suddenly made out of butter. 

Minho ties them up for you and you literally feel like he’s your babysitter. You know you’re gonna hear about this for months – what are you saying- years! But all you can think about at the moment though, is the fact that sneakers are definitely not appropriate for an interview. 

He throws your warmest coat at you, grab his keys, and by some type of miracle, you’re both out to the door in less than 10 minutes. 

You try to call the elevator, but Minho grabs your arm and leads you to the staircase. His hand never leaving yours, he runs down the stairs and you have no choice but to follow him as fast as you can. 

You can’t count how many times you missed a step and fell at this particularly slippery spot, between the 5th and the 4th floor, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t happen today. 

When you finally reach the ground floor, you exit the complex and Minho hops on his old and rusty bike that he had attached to nearest tree the night before.

“There’s no way I’m riding behind you on this death machine,” you laugh nervously. The memory of that one time Minho convinced you to seat into his bicycle basket (as if you could even realistically fit in it) and you both fell seconds after he started to pedal is coming back to your mind.

Sure, it was after a long night of drinking, you were both tipsy and it was the only way to get you home since you had spent all your uber money at the bar, but still! You’re pretty sure the bruise on your butt hasn’t disappeared to this day.  

“Hurry up,” Minho groans, ignoring your complaint. You unwillingly seat on his flimsy pannier rack and wrap your arms around his torso. 

You haven’t even left, yet you’re already holding onto his puffer jacket for dear life. A giggle escapes your friend’s mouth (which you think is very inappropriate in such a desperate situation) before he lifts his feet off the ground and starts pedaling. 

You try to ignore the loud squeaking of the bicycle drive by shutting your eyes tighter and rehearsing your introduction you have prepared over and over in your head. No matter how hard you are trying, you can’t remember what you are supposed to say just after your age (which, as you can imagine, isn’t really far into your monologue). 

By the way the wind is lashing your face, you can tell Minho has picked up the speed. His breathing is getting louder, his heartbeat faster and you can’t help but think you’re probably way too heavy for him to bike you around like that. Maybe he shouldn’t skip his gym sessions with Chan so often. Or maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the leftover pancakes for breakfast after all.

You find the courage to open your eyelids and are pleased to see you’re already halfway there, probably because every single one of the traffic lights you encounter is green, and your friend is going surprisingly fast. Is luck finally starting to smile upon you? 

Your mad race comes to a halt when you reach the address of your interview. You hop off the bike and so does Minho who, by the way, is a panting mess. He’s barely able to catch his breath, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he’s beaming at you when he realizes you’re just on time. 

“Go” he gasps, pushing you in the direction of the building’s hall. 

You walk up to the glass door but as your hands are about to push it, you pull a 180. Your friend sighs loudly, already knowing what’s coming next. 

“Wait. No. I can’t do this. I’m not prepared” you tell him frantically. “I’m freaking out. I think I’m gonna pass out.” You are now walking in circles, mumbling incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Your heart is racing in your chest and your hands are getting clammy at the simple thought of failure. But guess what? You can’t fail if you don’t even try! One more good reason to just go back to bed and forget about your sad life for a good 8 hours, right? 

“Y/N, you’re the most talented person I know, you’re gonna do just fine” Minho catches you in his arm to stop your endless pacing. You would probably think this gesture is endearing if it wasn’t just meant to make sure you couldn’t run for your life.  

“No, I’m not. What if I throw up in front of everybody like that one time during the Romeo and Juliet musical?” You look up at him and his face is only inches away from yours. You’re sure you would be swooning at how beautiful he looks if you weren’t so terrified at this very moment.

“You were nine,” your best friend says, and you swear you have never heard him speak to you in such a sweet tone before. His voice is like honey and lavander but it doesn’t soothe you like it should. 

You manage to break free from his embrace to crouch down, in an attempt to slow down your breathing. If only you had data left, you could be watching those short relaxing videos on your phone. They always work. But no, you had to spent it all on online games, just one week into the month. You really are beyond help.  

“Y/N I know you’re scared, but if you miss out on this opportunity, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.” Minho is lowering himself so that you can hear him, even though you’re curled up in a ball. 

“And I’m warning you, I won’t want to hear you complain about it,” he adds, this whole situation obviously starting to get on his nerves. 

If you were him, you would have probably left a long time ago. But this isn’t your best friend’s way of behaving. You know he would never abandon you no matter how annoying you could be (and you could be very annoying sometimes). After all, he is always the one holding your hair while you puke in the toilets when you had a couple too many drinks.

It takes all your willpower to stand up but there is no other way, you have to do it. You can hear the time ticking dangerously in your mind, as if your brain had turned into a clock.

“You’re right. Slap me,” you say, looking at him straight in the eyes, dead serious. 

“Wha -“

“Slap some sense into me. They do that in movies when people are panicking. It’s like throwing a bucket of cold water in someone’s face. But clearly we don’t have a bucket and we don’t have cold wa- “ you start blabbering. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not gonna slap you!” Your friend isn’t usually that horrified at the thought of beating your ass. In fact, he has felt the desire to rip your head off more than once, especially when you’d steal all the duvet at night, but at this moment he is just scared you might have actually lost your mind.  

“Just fucking do it Minho!” you scream, your hands clenching the front of his grey hoodie he always looks so divine in. 

Minho has never obeyed you, and this is not the day he is going to start. 

He puts both of his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips onto yours. 

You would be lying if you said you have never imagined the day your best friend would kiss you. It happens pretty much every single time you look at his cute pout a little too long. But one thing is certain, it isn’t like you pictured it to be at all.

You were convinced your heart would go so wild it would burst out of your chest and your head would spin so furiously you’d lose your balance. You thought your stomach would fill with butterflies to the brim and your whole body would be on fire.

But none of that is happening. On the contrary, every single muscle in your body relaxes under his touch. The way his soft mouth presses gently against yours makes you calmer, almost at peace amongst all this turmoil. 

Minho is kissing all your tension and stress away and you catch yourself letting a sigh of relief escape your parted lips.

As if you have kissed him already hundreds of times in your past life, Minho feels like home. He’s a safe haven you can always take refuge in during troubled times. Ever since the day you met, he has never left your side.

When he breaks away from the kiss, you notice your breath isn’t so ragged and your mind isn’t so foggy anymore. You’re serene. His cold hands are still cupping your face, slightly squishing your cheeks, and you feel like an idiot sandwich for asking him to slap you seconds before.

“That can work too, I guess…” you mutter.  

“You’re okay?” he asks, staring at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You just nod, unable to say one more word, and sprint to the entrance, not wanting to make your interviewers wait any longer than they already have.

“Good luck!” You hear him yell just before the door closes behind you and you can’t help but grin from ear to ear.

- - - - - 

Thirty minutes later, you finally step out of the fancy lobby to find a very bored Minho leaning against a tree, patiently waiting for you.

“You’re still here?”

“Of course, I am,” he says, his mouth full of croissant. He gives you a large iced coffee he probably went buying to kill time. Your lips unconsciously curl up into a smile when you notice it comes from the same chain that the one you spilled on your lap on the day you first met him. 

“How did it go?” he asks you, sticking his buttery pastry into your mouth so that you can take a bite.

“Way better than I thought” you answer, right after you swallowed. You hate the way flakes would always get stuck between your teeth. But Minho is always there to warn you about it before anyone else notices, and even pick them for you if you can’t manage to, which, when you think about it, is kind of gross. 

There are two things the boy knows about you: you’re the greatest pessimist on earth and you’d rather die than admit you were wrong (especially if it meant he was right). So for you to even say it wasn’t that bad, means it went phenomenal. 

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but I told you so.” He smiles so wide you can barely see his eyes anymore. You have to look away, otherwise you know you might become instantly blinded by love.

“Maybe I could use some more of your luck” you mumble, staring at your shoes and kicking the red leaves that were surrounding your feet on this sunny autumn morning. 

“Really? And what makes you think I’ll share it with you,” he teases you, leaning forward to incite you to look at him in the eyes. 

“That.”

Your hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him in, in order to close the space that is still left between your mouths.

At first, Minho stiffens, taken aback by your bold move. But soon enough, he caves into your touch. He kisses you back fervently, like he means it. 

His fingers entagle in your hair, his arm wraps around your waist and his chest presses against your body. You’re melting in his embrace, submerged by a wave of bliss which he alone seems to know the recipe. 

It feels new, yet so familiar. Like it was supposed to happen, like it was written in the stars. 

He tastes like croissant and Americano. Like fortune and fate. 

And you can’t help but think you’re the luckiest person on earth.

Who cares about winning the lottery when Lee Minho is your lucky charm? 

[bamsywrites]

Mistakes Like These

Summary: Kakyoin never paid much attention to the younger Kujo. Who knew stockings and short skirt were all it would take change that

Rating: 18+, nsfw

Words: 4877

Warnings: cannabis mention, alcohol use

Tags: afab, fem pronouns, modern!au , doesn’t follow the canon like at all, very au, brother!jotaro x sister!reader, kakyoin x reader, soft dom kak, lots of pet names, plus size reader

Notes: I haven’t written any fanfiction in over five years so this might be rusty. I’m sorry for any mistakes made or if its not how the characters would act. I’m still new to the Jojos fandom but had this idea pop in my head and decided to get it out. I want to turn this in to a multi part story and have several parts already planned out, I just want to have feedback to see if people actually like it.

“Have a happy Holidays. Make sure to check in with your financial advisor about the spring semester.”

A sigh escaped your lips as you read the most recent email in your student inbox. Patience may be a virtue, but it was sure one you didn’t possess. At least not right now anyway. Tsking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, you moved the mouse over to the refresh button and clicked. Your eyes followed the downloading icon in circles, fingers tapping anxiously over the desk.

“Have a happy Holidays. Make sure to check in with your financial advisor about the spring semester.”

You exhaled angrily through your nose and leaned back in your chair. Your eyes fixed on the ceiling for a few moments before you looked over to your bed where your cat, Miso, had woken up from his nap.

“I know I should be more patient. But this grade is what determines if I move on to the next course which I need if I want to graduate soon and get out of this apartment.” You spoke as if your cat had scolded you for your impatience.

Your apartment was nice. Super nice. Your friends often described it as “apartment goals.” You could have never afforded it on your own. Hell, you couldn’t afford it even when you graduated and got a job. Two large bedrooms with a spacious living room, modern kitchen, and a balcony that overlooked the cities skyline. There were only two major downsides: there was only one bathroom which had to be shared with your roommate and your roommate happened to be your older brother, Jotaro.

Now, you didn’t exactly hate your brother. He was like any older brother, he thought you were extremely annoying and wanted nothing to do with you most of the time, though there were times growing up where he’d come home with scrapes and bruises after dealing with someone who picked on you at school. As you were both older, you found each other more bearable than you did when you were younger. That didn’t mean, however, you wanted to live with him. Especially while you were in college, which was supposed to be your time to let loose and have fun while still receiving an education, of course. Your grandfather, however, had other plans.

Joseph Joestar was a real estate mogul and had some serious money to his name. He loved to dote on his two grandchildren and was upset that for the most part your parents chose to give you a “normal” life without the extravagance that he offered. Birthdays and christmas he would buy you each a present, until Jotaro turned 15 and started asking for money instead. He made your mother an offer that he knew she couldn’t deny: he would pay for the entirety of your schooling, from associates degree to PhD if thats what you wanted, in order for the two of you to focus on your studies he’d also give you a weekly allowance so that you wouldn’t have to work, and he’d buy you each your own apartment and pay to furnish it how you liked. Holly couldn’t turn down the offer, what kind of mother would deny her children an opportunity like that? However, she did ask that her father only buy a single apartment for her children to share. Her hopes were that it would strengthen your relationship and it also meant she could see both her darling children whenever she desired.

You didn’t want to seem ungrateful at all for what Jiji had done for you. You knew you were extremely privileged to have the opportunities that he provided you but, fuck, sometimes you wished you had your own place. You wanted the independence, to know you earned something but also because sharing a bathroom with Jojo was infuriating. He always moved your stuff, never cleaned the shower, and he never had patience for you to get ready in the mornings. A wishful sigh left your lips as you thought of your future, with just you, Miso, and the ability to use the bathroom whenever you wanted.

Your eyes moved back to the computer screen, clicking refresh, and rolling your eyes when you read the same email from the dean again. Like you expected anything different, you just turned the term paper in yesterday. You brought your cup of tea up to your lips but furrowed your eyebrows when you realized there was none left.

Pushing yourself up out of your chair you formulated a plan for the rest of your evening. You would refill your cup of tea, hop back on your computer to play Overwatch with your friends until the early hours of the morning, and then cuddle up with Miso and look at TikToks until you fell asleep. It was foolproof. No way that you would even think about your term paper grade.

And if you did, you could always refresh your email in between matches.

-----------

Your finger tapped your lip as you looked over all the snack foods in the pantry. While waiting for your tea, you realized that the only thing that could make your plan better was a good snack. You had just gone shopping so it meant that all the poky, ramen, and chips you desired were on the shelves and it made the decision extra hard.

In the middle of your contemplation, you heard the front door turn and the sound of your brother and his friends entering the apartment.

“You know it's true, Jotaro. Your apartments bigger. Its nicer. It has that view that drives the ladies wild. Our apartment is cramped and it smells like weed.” Polnareff’s voice was the first you heard as the trio entered the house.

“Don’t forget the upstairs neighbors who are always playing loud polish music.” Kakyoin added, plopping down to sit on one of the chairs in the living room.

You heard your brother sigh and could feel his annoyance. You never understood how the trio became friends, it was a mystery to everyone including them but they had been together since their days in primary school and the bond they shared was one that intrigued you.

“Yes, yes. The polish,” Polnareff nodded. “Known around the world for their ability to ruin the mood with a hurdy-gurdy.”

There was silence, and you could tell your brother was not budging a bit. A party was not Jotaros thing. Kakyoin wasn’t a partier either, from what you gathered he’d much rather stay at home playing video games and smoking weed. Sucking your bottom lip in your mouth, you made your decision, grabbing a bag of chips and a box of strawberry pocky. You did your best to hold those in one hand and your cup of tea in the other.

“Feel that Christmas spirit, Jo. Help Pol in his never ending crusade to get laid. The poorman is gonna end this year with, what, a batting average of zero. He’ll be a disgrace to French men everywhere.” The teasing tone Kakyoins voice almost made you laugh.

“Hey! Batting average of 3. You know this,” Polnareff shot back, causing his roommate to throw his hands up in mock surrender.

“Jotaro,” The french man turned his attention back to your brother, who simply turned on the TV in what seemed to be an attempt to drown out the sound of his friend's voice, “C’mon. I’ll buy your cigarettes for a month…..Two months?” His voice was getting more desperate, his head turned toward you. A smile stretched across his features as he jumped off the couch and threw his arms around your shoulder.

God, you just wanted to go to your room.

“New deal,” Polernaff declared, squeezing you to the side of his body as you tried not to splash your tea all over the floor. Kakyoin looked away from the TV, eyebrow raised, Jotaros attention never faltered from the knock-off Viagra commercial. “If you agree to a Christmas Eve party I will buy you cigarettes for three months, I will never ask anything of you ever again, and I will stop flirting with your sister.”

Kakyoin snorted, shaking his head and turning his attention to Jotaro. Since you had moved in with Jotaro, the frenchman hadn’t stopped making comments about how beautiful he thought you were or just giving you flirty winks whenever you walked through the room. You found it annoying at first, but you quickly got over it when you realized he did the same thing with every girl, and boy, that he saw.

“Good grief,” Jotaro sighed. “Its a deal.”

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

“I can’t believe you agreed to this.” Kakyoin mumbled as he and Jotaro watched their friend place the final touches on the decorations and food for the party. Y/N had already put up Christmas decorations earlier that month, there was some snowmen set out on the dining table and a cute tree with some presents neatly wrapped under it. However, Polnareff had decided that wasn’t enough. He had hung up snowflakes to come down from the ceiling, there was garland hung on every wall, and so much fucking mistletoe.

Polnareff had even requested that his friends dress festive. Jotaro, of course, didn’t listen and wore what he always wore. Kakyoin decided to humor his friend and wore a Santa hat along with a dark green v-neck and dark wash jeans.

“You don’t need the money, right? Grandpa Joestar’s allowance has to be enough for cigarettes.” He continued, watching his roommate place a bowl of peppermints by the door.

“I just wanted to get him to shut up,” Jotaro said with a roll of his eyes.

“You think he’ll actually follow through on leaving Y/N alone?”

Jotaro shook his head, “Out of all the people in this city, you’d think he’d leave the only one of limits alone.”

Kakyoin simply nodded, taking a sip of his drink.

-----------

You smoothed your hands over your outfit, turning to the side to get it from a different angle. You couldn’t decide if you liked it or not. The sweater was cute, it was red with a deep green christmas tree that had colorful little puff balls as the ornaments. Your make-up and hair looked nice, too.  That wasn’t what concerned you. It was the white pleated skirt and tight red stockings that caused you pause. You grabbed at your love handles that spilled over the top of the skirt a bit and your eyes traveled to how your thighs looked in the stockings.

Polnareff had told you you could invite some friends over. Which, of course you could, this was your apartment and you didn’t need his permission. You had told him as such and invited over your three closest friends.

You turned around to your bed and looked at Miso, who was comfortably curled up. “How do I look?” You waited a moment before turning back to the mirror and smacking your lips together. You were tempted to take off the skirt and tights and throw a pair of jeans on but something changed your mind last minute. Instead of heading to your closet to change, you instead grabbed the reindeer antler hand band and slipped it on top of your hair before heading out of the safety of your bedroom.

You were so distracted with the new decorations that you didn’t notice the pair of eyes that were glued to your form.

------

Simply Having a Wonderful Christmastime was playing for what seemed like the fifth time. Kakyoin had never hated Paul McCartney more than he did now. He was just now starting to feel the buzz of all the drinks he had had but it didn’t make the party any more bearable.

“She,” Kakyoin pointed to a blonde girl in a Santa dress, “is gonna hook up with him,” He pointed to a dark haired main that had for some reason felt the need to take his shirt off.

Jotaro simply grunted before eyeing more of the members of the party. This was a game they’d been playing for the past hour and a half, making bets on who was gonna hook up with who and who was gonna get the most shit faced.

“He’s gonna end up passed out in my bathtub,” The dark haired man stated, pointing to the only person dancing to the playlist Polnareff had created.

Kakyoin broke a smile as he watched the clearly wasted man's horrible dance moves. His attention was brought away from the scene by the sound of Y/N’s laugh. For what had to be the millionth time that night, the red haired man eyed her up and down. That outfit looked so fucking good on her but the smile streched out across her lips looked even better.

I wonder what the lipstick would look like smeared on my cock.

The thought slipped into his head and he couldn’t stop from staring at the red painted on your lips.

Does she feel as soft as she looks?

He took a sip from his cup. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about his hands running over her thighs or his fingers digging into her hips. It was strange that he was having these thoughts. He’d never viewed Y/N as more than just Jotaro’s younger sister. He never thought she was ugly, in fact there were multiple times that he thought she was down right gorgeous but it had never turned sexual. Something about that outfit had sent him over that edge.

The sound of Last Christmas brought him out of his trance. Kakyoin almost immediately rolled his eyes. He almost missed the hurdy-gurdy.

“Good grief,” Jotaro mumbled and grabbed the pack of cigarettes off the coffee table. “I’m heading out for a smoke.”

Kakyoin watched as his best friend got up but instead of heading for the balcony, Jotaro went out the front door. The red haired man was tempted to follow but as soon as that thought popped into his mind he heard the drunk voice of his other best friend call to him.

“Kak, you gotta show these guys the cherry thing!”

---------

It was well past 3. The party had ended and most of the attendants took an Uber home. The only people in the apartment were you, Polnareff, and Kakyoin. Jotaro had still not returned from that smoke he said he was going to take hours ago. The buzz had long worn off and the reality sank in that you had to clean the disaster of an apartment that was left in the christmas party’s wake.

There were red solo cups strewn about various surfaces and all over the floor, glitter seemed to have gotten everywhere, there were plates of food left half eaten, and there was a candy cane just stuck to the wall. Looking at the destruction, you almost wondered if the fun you had had was worth it. With your parents coming over tomorrow...or, well, today…..for Christmas, you had really no other option than to clean it, with that thought in your head you grabbed a garbage bag and started cleaning.

After a few minutes, you heard the familiar rustle of plastic as someone was opening a trash bag and you turned to see Kakyoin helping you with your task.

“Thanks,” You told him as you threw a plate of half eaten cake into the bag.

“No problem. Pol is passed out in the hallway and I gotta make sure Jo makes it home safe, so I’m kinda stuck here.”

You simply nodded in response and kept about your task in silence. A silence which seemingly bothered Kakyoin because a few minutes later he cleared his throat and broke the silence.

“So I, uh, noticed your man wasn’t here tonight.” He almost smacked himself for asking the question. You thought he was just making small talk, the thought of him having more devious reasons behind asking if you were single hadn’t crossed your mind.

“My….My man?” You quirked an eyebrow, looking back over your shoulder at him.

“Yeah, your man. I saw you with some guy a while back,” Kakyoin had put down the now full trash bag and was leaning against the counter top with his arms crossed as he spoke.

“Oh,” You suddenly realized who exactly he was talking about, “Yeah, um, we broke up six months ago,” You said with a laugh.

“Oh...Six months?” He titled his head to the side, “Are you sure? Hmm… Well, sorry I didn’t notice...I uh guess I should be more observant.

You shook your head, placing down your own bag and heading past him to the pantry to grab another. “Its alright, I’m not offended. I’m sure you find me as annoying as I find Jotaros friends.”

Kakyoin raised his eyebrows at your statement, “You find me annoying? I mean, Pol, I get. Yeah. He’s one of my closest friends and even I can’t handle him sometimes. But me? I never talk to you.”

You had busied yourself with cleaning the rest of the cups off the counter, “ I don’t know. You’re just…” You looked up and noticed his eyes quickly flick down to your lips before making eye contact with you again. “I mean, you did one time give me oregano and told me it was weed.”

“First,” Kakyoin started, his body shifted so it was turned toward you, “Thats not annoying. I would call that immature, maybe. But annoying? Nah. Second,” he threw up two fingers to emphasize his point, “ In my defense, you were 15 and I was worried about you finding our stash under Jo’s bed and I thought it would lessen that chance if I gave you your own stash.”

You laughed, setting the bag down and turning to look at him. You couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in that dark green shirt but you quickly willed that thought away.  “Kakyoin, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Hey, at the time it did.”

You tilted your head to the side, you had plenty of stories that you could use as proof that he was annoying, “ What about that time you and Jojo left me stranded at school because the new playstation came out?”

“Thats not fair,” He noticed the playful hint your voice was taking and it caused a small smile to tug at his lips.

“How about the time that you threw up in my make up bag?”

“Hey, that was all Frenchie. Not me.”

“Or…..” You were silenced by Kakyoin pressing a finger to your lips. You hadn’t noticed that the two of you had just kept moving closer and closer as you were talking. You could get a better look at him now, his eyes looked tired but there was a mischievous glint to them, proof to you that he found this just as amusing as you did.

“What about you, huh? You saying that you’ve never been annoying?” He cocked an eyebrow, giving you a knowing look that let you know he had as many stories about you that you had about him.

“Look, I never once implied that I wasn’t annoying. I’ll own up to it,” You shrugged, “I was a total brat.”

Kakyoin snorted, “Don’t act like you’re not still a brat.”

“How?!” You looked almost taken aback, “How am I still a brat? You hardly see me!”

Kakyoin loved banter and teasing with his friends, it was kind of his thing. It was how he showed affection. If he didn’t gently bully you how was he supposed to show that he cared? But this, this teasing between the two of you was different. It made the room seem hotter and his pants feel tighter. That coupled with how fucking cute you looked in that damn outfit, even if your make up had worn off a bit and the lipstick was smugged. He couldn't deny it was doing things to him.

“I see you now,” His voice was deep, his tongue sticking out to wet his bottom lip as his eyes trailed you up and down.

Your cheeks immediately turned a blushy pink and your skin was hot under his gaze. Your lips parted but no words came out. This was Jotaros best friend, there was no way he was flirting with you.

Kakyoin took a few steps forward so he was as close to you as he could be without touching you. “I see you now,” He repeated in the same low voice, this time keeping eye contact with you, “And I see a brat.”

He pushes a few strands of hair out of your face and behind your ear, a gasp hitching in your throat as his heated skin touched your check briefly, “Unless you’re gonna show me otherwise.”

“I…” You swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly weak at his gaze. “H-how?”

You look into his eyes and you can see it. You can see how much he wants you and how intense that want is. No one has ever looked at you that way before and it made your stomach erupt in butterflies. Quickly, you turn your head away not being able to handle the intensity of his stare. You feel his fingers on your chin guiding you to look back up at him, holding you there so he can take in all the features of your face. Its like he’s looking at you for the first time. His fingers move gently from your chin down to your neck, your breathing hitched in your throat when you felt the soft pad of his thumb move across your lips.

“If you want me to stop, tell me sweetheart,” He’s eyes had gotten a few shades darker and his voice seemed more strained than usual. Kakyoins free hand traveled under the sweater your were wearing, fingers lightly dancing along your side as his other hand stayed on you face, gently tracing the outline of your lips with his thumb. “Tell me right now and I’ll go back to pitching solo cups and scrubbing counters.”

In the pit of your stomach you knew you shouldn’t. You knew that if Jojo ever found out he’d flip, he’d always done his best to keep you and his friends separate. You always thought it was because you annoyed him and he didn’t want to have to be around you more than you already were, Kakyoin knew that it was because no matter how the man acted, he deeply cared for you and would do anything to protect you. These thoughts of Jotaro’s reaction filtered through your mind but your brother wasn’t here right now.

You acted on impulse, your tongue peaking out of your mouth to coax Kakyoins thumb between your lips. He watched with heavy lidded eyes as you gently sucked on the digit, swiping your tongue along the length of it. His breathing picked up for a moment before mumbling a quiet, “Fuck.”

Almost instantly you were hoisted on the counter with his lips against yours and wasting no time to swipe his tongue into your mouth. His hands quickly traveled up your thighs, pushing your skirt to pool at your hips and quickly ripping the stockings down the middle. Your legs hooked around his waist, pulling him as close to you as possible as your fingers worked at undoing his belt.

He pulls away from your lips for a moment to help you pull down his boxers and jeans. You licked your lips as you admired his cock, already hard and glistening with precum. You felt his fingers on your face again directing you to look at him.

“My cock needs to be inside you, sweetheart. Can I do that?” He was breathing heavy, he had never wanted someone so much in his life. All he wanted right now was to feel your pussy around his cock. Consequences be damned. “Can I fuck you, princess?”

You whine when you hear him speak, his voice is like nothing you ever heard before. Lust and want seemed to be dripping off every word. The whole situation leaves you speechless. At the nod of your head, Kakyoin pulls your panties to the side and slides inside you. His moan and your whimper are the only noises in the quiet apartment, his eyes watching your face intently for any sign of discomfort or desire to stop.

“Fuck me,” You breath out when your vocie finally comes to you. “Please, Kakyoin. Fuck me.”

He groans and happily obliges, rocking his cock in and out of you. Your small gasps and whimpers only egg him on more as he increases the speed of this thrust, your hands bracing yourself against the countertop. His eyes break from your face to watch his own cock slide in and out, the sight of his cock slick with your wetness makes him moan.

“Thats a perfect fucking pussy, sweetheart.” He breaths out so soft you almost can’t hear him over the slick sound of his skin on yours. His eyes find yours again, hand moving back to rest on your jawline and hold you in his gaze. He leans close and sucks your lip into his mouth, his teeth nipping at the soft flesh before soothing it with his tongue.

“You’re such a good girl,” Kakyoin tells you before pressing his lips against yours again. He picks up the pace because, goddammit, he wants to feel you cum on his cock. He pulls aways, resting his forehead against yours. Your moans are soft and the whimpers that follow cause him to smirk.

“Oh, fuck. That feels so good,” You whisper, looking into his eyes. He can see you getting closer and closer and its making it hard for him to keep composed.

“You take a cock so well, princess,” His lips brush against yours, he tilts your head to the side so that he can kiss down your neck, and then back up again. His lips find the lobe of your ear and gently suck on it. Your moans are getting more and more erratic, every now and then you’ll gasp out his name.

“You gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock,” Kakyoin whispers into your ear, his lips brushing against the shell of it. “Shit, sweetheart, I wanna feel that pretty fucking pusy come on my cock.”

It’s the sound of his voice whispering those dirty things in your ear that sends you over the edge.

“Thats it, princess. Fuck, sweetheart…I’m...shit. Can I….?” The red heads voice is ragged and incoherent but you knew what he was asking.

“Fuck, yes, please,” Its all you can do to get the words out. “Please, I wanna feel you come in me.”

You both come hard, his fingers digging roughly into the skin of your thighs and loud moans filling the space of the kitchen. The warmth of him spilling inside of you is enough to make you want a round two. After a few moments the two of you are left breathing heavy, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he tries to catch his breath.

You stay like that for a moment, trying to regain your composure and come to terms with everything that had just happened. This was a development in events that neither of you ever saw coming. Its you that make the move to separate, pushing against his chest and moving off the counter. You avoid eye contact with him, flating your skirt back down and picking up your, now ruined, stockings off the tiled floor. You could feel his cum drip out of you down to your thighs.

“That was….” Kakyoin broke the silence, buckling his belt and running a hand through his hair. You noticed he too was looking at anything but you.

“Yeah,” You nodded your head in response.

“You know we can’t uh…-”

“Yup.”

“Like, ever.”

“Trust me, I’m aware.”

“H-Happy...Happy Christmas.”

You just nod and quickly retreat to your room, throwing yourself on your bed and groaning into your pillows. After a moment, you crawled under the blankets and pulled your cat into your chest.

“Miso. I think I’m a slut….”

--------

Kakyoin watched as you retreated away down the hallway, his mind still wrapping around what had happened. The fact that he was the one that instigated it. He was the one that made all the moves and god, he shouldn’t have. But he had wanted to. He had wanted to get you in that position all night.

It was at that moment that Jotaro entered the apartment again, smelling of cigarettes and….perfume? Kakyoin was gonna have to ask him about that one later. “

“The prodigal son has returned,” The redhead teased his friend, doing his best to hide the guilt he had for what he had just done.

“Shut up,” Jotaro mumbled. He eyed his friend curiously, he was very observant and it was very naive of Kakyoin to think that he wouldn’t notice the change in his friend. “What’s wrong with you?”

I just busted a big one in your sister. And would probably do it again if the chance presented itself. No biggie.

“I’m, uh, I’m just tired.”

-----------

Thank you so much for reading this! I appreciate it very much. Let me know what you think of it and if I should continue the story. Merry Christmas!

[sabraeal]

And Spring Became the Summer

[Read on AO3]

The very last of my follower fics for the 700 Followers gifts! This one was the bonus for making it to 750 before December, and I’m so glad I’ve FINALLY gotten this done...so I can do it all over again this year 🤣

The last term paper Mitsuhide writes for his undergraduate career he slips into a glossy plastic portfolio-- double-spaced and double-sided, graphs printed in full color-- and turns in personally.

It’s a wide-eyed TA that takes it, seated behind a desk that’s far too big for her. Or well, she’s not wide-eyed at first; instead she’s bent over her work, only glancing up absently to make sure she has it in hand. But a second one turns absence to alarm, eyes fixing to where he grips the plastic, and suddenly he’s all-too aware how easily how just one of his hands could swallow both of hers.

So is she; her eyes pulse wide, and then she’s tracing the line of his arm up and up doggedly, like as long as she just keeps going, she might hit the end of him. When she finally does, he offers her a sheepish smile, shoulders hunched lessen the blow.

She shrinks back, a mousey brown head peeking above an oversized university sweatshirt. So much for that.

“You could have emailed this,” she squeaks, plucking the plastic sleeve from his grip. “I mean, not that you can’t hand it in. It’s just, er...”

“No one does,” another adds, rolling across the floor with a level of curiosity that he’s pretty sure an in-person paper doesn’t warrant. When she measures him with her gaze, she enjoys every inch. “Pretty old fashioned, if you ask me.”

He recognizes both of them; their names had been on the syllabus at the beginning of the semester. He’d found them both on the department website, Amanda wearing the same Clarines sweatshirt she had on today, and Holly’s clearly from some beach vacation, cropped from the shoulders up.

(“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a stalker,” Obi says, hanging upside down from the armchair.

“I’m-- I’m not!” Mitsuhide sputters, heat creeping up his neck. One day, Obi would slip up and say these things in front of someone who mattered, someone with a much more rigid sense of humor than Professor Gazelt, or didn’t know to take every word of his with an ocean of salt like Dean Haruka, and then it would be him that got seated in front of a disciplinary committee. The last thing he needed to do before even finishing law school applications was explain his brother’s poor taste in jokes on the record. “It’s just...”

“That you’re compelled to look at cute girls on the university website?” he offers, so casual. “I could think of hotter majors, if you wanted. Psych seems like it’s the sort of place real tens might hand out, right? Maybe, uh, Education? Kindergarten teachers always are cute--”

“It’s polite,” Mitsuhide grits out, shoulders hunched up by his ears. “You should know everyone on staff in your department, just the way you should know everyone you work with. It’s the proper way to network.”

Obi watches him with wide eyes, like he’s some kind of zoo animal or-- or one of those really bad cooks on TV, the kind who tries to pan fry a chicken whole. “God, you don’t actually do that, do you?”

“It’s the secret to good business.” At least, that’s what his parents always told him.

“You must be...” Obi savors the moment, looking positively euphoric as he says, “Really fucking creepy at the department Christmas party.”)

“No one did,” says the first-- Amanda, graduate summa cum laude from Columbia-- tone aimed to shush. “I’m, uh, happy to take that, though.”

He gives her his most gracious smile. “Thank you.”

“No,” Holly-- Penn State, no honors-- mutters, casting him a speculative glance from the corner of her eyes. Hers go up and up too, but seem to come to a much more amicable conclusion. “Thank you.”

“Stop.” Amanda’s hands flex on the thin plastic; she has soft hands, a callus only on the knuckle of her middle finger, where a pen might rest. Like Shirayuki, only without the thousand nicks and cuts that dot her fingers, battle wounds from wrangling recalcitrant plants.

Her chin pulls up, set in a determined line as she says, “Congratulations on graduating.”

“Ah...” It’s a kind thought, and meant well, but knowing he’s about to spend the next three years earning the degree that counts softens the blow. “Thank you. I hope you have a nice, um, summer?”

“Definitely will be nicer not to grade papers,” Holly offers, immune to Amanda’s shushing. “Do you have pl--?”

“We should get back to grading,” Amanda says, just to the left of too loud. “Have a nice summer.”

Never repeat yourself, Mama always told him, it weakens your position.

You can never be too polite. That’s what Papa would say, when he thanked the cashier for a third time.

Mitsuhide winces; he’s always hated this, being stuck between his parents. It’s clearly time to leave. “Right. Bon été, Amanda.”

“Was that French,” he hears hissed the moment he’s stepped out the door; the same moment another voice says, “Did I tell him my name?”

He should have just emailed it. Mitsuhide can make any number of excuses about the joys of collating and color printing, about face-time and networking, but at the end of the day, he has to call a spade a spade: this has all been an excuse. A thin one too, to keep him out of the house. To put off what he knows need doing.

Mitsuhide steps into the cool air of the foyer, shivering as it catches the sweat that beaded at his hairline on the walk. His courage peaks as he stands there, right next to the shoe mat, grand stair stretching up before him, still in his oxfords--

And immediately effervesces when he catches sight of smooth, bare legs on the coffee table, fuzzy slippers worth more than his phone perched up on the mahogany. This is it, the moment of truth, fight or flight, and he-- he doesn’t know which way to run.

So he doesn’t. He’s drawn there with inexorable motion, a magnet to a lodestone, the hard soles of his shoes clacking against the wood the only thing keeping him grounded. It takes only a few steps before long, tanned legs lead up to sleep shorts; not the clingy kind that curve and cup, but the ones that hang like boxers around the tops of her thighs, rucking up as she moves. After that it’s a hoodie, worn loose and baggy, like it’s supposed to fit someone twice her size, its hood drawn tight against her face. Nothing...sexy, not the way Obi might say, with far too much eyebrows involved. But still, his mouth runs dry, tongue heavy behind his teeth.

How on earth is he going to do this?

“Kiki.” He speaks before he thinks, sinking down on the table. It creaks beneath him, ominous. “I owe you a date.”

“Oh shit.” Obi flops over on the recliner, wide gold eyes peeking over the arm. “Check out the balls on this kid.”

This is a terrible idea. He should have known not to do this in a-- a common room, one where other brothers might be hiding.

“Sorry,” he creaks, levering himself up. “I didn’t realize-- you’re clearly busy--”

“No.” Kiki’s lays her feet right on his thighs, pushing him down with a thump. “You were saying something important.”

He darts a glance to the shadow squirming obnoxiously on soft leather. “But Obi--”

“Obi,” she informs him, as imperious as any C-suite member, “can leave.”

Obi doesn’t so much bark out a laugh as honks it. “Not unless I got time to make popcorn.”

Her head doesn’t move an inch from where she’s got it, chin tilted up to meet his own gaze. Her eyes though, those slide pointedly away, fixed at their corners, radiating malice. Kiki is slow to speak, deliberate when she does, but her eyes-- well, there’s a wealth of words in every look, and right now they’re reading Obi the riot act.

It would have worked better if Obi wasn’t already so used hearing it.

“Ignore him,” Kiki decides, attention snapping back to him. “He’s furniture.”

“Oh, Ms Kiki,” Obi drawls, barreling towards a mistake, “you could sit on me any--”

“You were saying?” she says, every word iron. Obi takes the hint, for once.

“I, uh...well, you paid for a date,” Mitsuhide manages lamely, darting a worried look to where Obi lounges on the chair. “I mean, you paid a lot for a date. And I understand that you may have just wanted to donate to the frat, but if you wanted to--”

“I told you,” Kiki says, dry, toes flexing firmly on his knee. “I expect you to make it worth my while.”

“Ah, y-yeah.” Her saying that while looking at him like she did-- well, his brain had that queued up every time he blinks his eyes. Sometimes it changed venues, and there were some, uh, costume changes at times, but if he shut his eyes right now it’d spool up with perfect fidelity. “I thought it might, um, d-distract you if we tried before finals, but since you’ve finished-- we’ve finished--”

“As of twenty minutes ago,” Obi adds, so helpful.

“--I thought it might be a fun way to relax.” He’s honestly never felt less relaxed in his life just sitting here, contemplating it. Half of it he can chalk up to Obi, curled over the recliner like a gremlin, waiting to wreak his version of chaos the second he can weasel his fingers in, but the other--

Well, it’s hard to ask someone on a date when you know they’ve already got someone in mind for the position. Even if it’s just-- this. As friends.

His heart’s in his throat. At least, that’s what he thinks until Kiki’s mouth curves; then he knows it’s never been in his possession at all, but always utterly hers. “Sounds like fun.”

Tension rushes out of him on a sigh. “Ah, great. I though we might, er, go to Boston? You know,” he hurries to spit out, before any words can fall from her parted lips, “since there’s not much out here we haven’t seen.”

She hesitates. Of course she does. Boston’s practically her hometown, and he’s sitting here, thinking it’ll impress her. Like she hasn’t seen everything that’s worth seeing there twice over and in private. That she hasn’t just told him no outright is a testament to how well Mr Seiran’s raise her, and--

“Let’s make a day of it.”

Mitsuhide startles, nearly tipping off the table’s edge before he glances up, right into her row of perfectly straight teeth. Her mom’s smile, she always told him, but he’s only ever seen it on her. “I-- yes. That’s..good.”

Her lips curl, hiding her teeth. “Let me handle the accommodations.”

“Ah, no.” His head sweeps through big, nervous back-and-forths. “I couldn’t possibly ask you to--”

“You’re not,” Kiki informs him. “I’m telling you. I’ll handle accommodations. You’re seeing to the rest of the weekend, correct?”

“Y-yes.” He tries to fold his arms across his lap, but with her feet right on his thighs, it ends up with his hands covering her ankles. He expects her to move them, but instead her legs still, tendons relaxing under his palms. “That’s the plan, but, really--”

“It’s the least I can do.” She shifts her macbook off the couch’s arm, fingers already flying across the keyboard. “One night?”

“I...” He should decline. He should tell her that if she can drop a whole K on a date with him, he can shell out for one night at a hotel with a higher rating than a Holiday Inn.

But this is Kiki Seiran, heir to Seiran International. She’s not just used to five stars but the penthouse suite. He could book four star cheap on Hotwire, but imagining her in one of those suites, the sheets starched and thread count insufficient--

“Yeah,” he grunts, “one night’s fine.”

“Perfect.” Her teeth snap around the word. “Leave it to me.”

“So,” Obi starts before Mitsuhide’s even hit the last step. “We have a bet going on.”

He grimaces, shifting the duffel over his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.”

‘Pretty sure’ turns to ‘certain’ once he catches Obi’s grin. “It’s about whether you’ll get your dick wet.”

“Sorry, not interested.” He heaves the bag beside the front door, brushing off his shorts. “Isn’t it too early for you to be up? I thought you didn’t know about the hours before ten.”

“I had motivation,” Obi assures him, slinking up beside him with a grin a mile wide. “You know, Shiira says that you won’t on the grounds that you’re a gentleman.”

More like the lady isn’t interested. “I already said I wasn’t--”

“Kai says you will,” he continues blithely, “and you’ll come back on time. Shuuka agrees, except that he thinks you’ll miss check out with all the boning down and won’t make it back until evening.”

“Isn’t this breaking the bylaws?” Mitsuhide grunts, slipping on his sneakers. “Don’t we have something about betting...?”

“For money,” Obi agrees. “Zen still wouldn’t put a bet down though.”

That’s assuring at least. “Of course n--”

“Shiira already took his.” Obi shakes his head. “And we wouldn’t allow him to say the same thing except that he thinks it’s because you’re and idiot.”

Well, that’s a little rich, coming from Zen. Mitsuhide was loath to remind anyone that besides Obi, he is the most experienced, but-- some people should be taking that into account. Even if nothing is going to happen.

“Don’t worry, Big Guy.” Obi claps him on the shoulder, smile somehow drifting towards kindly. “I gave you until Monday.”

“Obi--”

“And Kiki will walk in with a limp.”

“Obi, you know that’s not...” His breath hisses between his teeth. “That’s not what me and Kiki are like.”

“You keep thinking that, Big Guy, but--” he leans in, cupping a hand around his mouth-- “my original bet was gonna be Tuesday. Too bad Kiki had already taken it.”

Mitsuhide stares at him, slack-jawed. “W-what did you just--?”

“I should have known, you’re already here.”

His head jerks up, right to the top of the grand stair, the beginning of a quick glance-- but it’s no use. There’s no possible way he could make his eyes focus anywhere but on Kiki, not when she’s wearing-- when she’s--

“Ooh.” Obi’s mouth curls, matching Kiki’s knowing smirk. “Is that a skirt?”

It is. And not-- not her field hockey kit, mid-thigh with shorts beneath, but and actual skirt, one that floats just above her knees, gauzy and floral. A single flash of leg tells him there’s nothing else beneath. Ah, well, besides the obvious. Mitsuhide swallows hard, mouth dry.

She raises a brow, hand trailing sinuously down the banister beside her. “It is a date, isn’t it?”

Her heels clack when she takes the last step into the foyer, clack because it’s the cork of her wedges that hits the floor first, because-- nom de Dieu-- she’s wearing shoes that tilt her a few inches close to him. Close enough that he could just bend at the neck and--

“Ah,” he coughs, fingers clenching in his shirt. “You might be a little overdressed. At least for this first part.”

Both her brows raise now. “Am I?”

“God,” Obi mutters at his shoulder, head buried in his hands. “You could at least say she looks nice.”

Well, when he’s right, he’s right.

“You look, ah, great though,” Mitsuhide hurries to add. “Beautiful.”

Kiki, to his surprise, beams. “Well, I brought a few outfits. I’ll change at the hotel.”

“Ah, sure.” He scoops up his duffel, holding out a hand for her bag as she passes. “You’re ready to go?”

Her mouth quirks at a corner. “As I’ll ever be.”

He hums, uncertain, suddenly left-footed with her so close. They should leave, but that involves a number a movements he’s suddenly stymied by.

Thankfully, Obi opens the door, practically shoving him onto the porch. “All right kids, be safe now.”

“Obi...”

“Don’t worry,” Kiki drawls, sashaying over the threshold. “I packed plenty of condoms.”

The door cuts off Obi’s laugh, but Mitsuhide can’t escape the pounding of his heart.

“You know,” he sighs, trailing after her, “you’re only encouraging him when you say things like that.”

“Oh that’s too bad,” she hums, floating past. “I was trying to encourage you.”

[supernatural-jackles]

The Man on the Side of the Road - Part 14

Title: The Man on the Side of the Road - Part 14

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3,510

Warnings: Minor Angst, Mentions of Semi- Forced Prostitution, Manipulation,  Ketch is a HUGE douchebag, Anxiety, Sickness, FLUFF!

Summary: Driving down the road, going well over the speed limit. You come across a man walking in the opposite direction with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. His head cast down as he walked. Your gut instinct is telling you to check on this man, no matter what your parents told you growing up. Little did you know just how much this would change your life.

The Man on the Side of the Road - Masterlist

A/N: Are you ready to hate Ketch more? Happy Sunday!! As always, I love hearing your thoughts on this story!! Only two parts left after this!! Happy reading!! 

Finally!

You were free.

 You walked out of the building with your head held high. You had just finished your last final for the semester and you had a great feeling about it. Not only was it your easiest exam, but it was also your longest. It was a simple essay about the things you had learned in the class throughout the semester and how they are relevant to your life outside of the class. It was simple and you finished it in record time. Now you were free until next semester. You had all of Christmas break to relax and spend time with your boyfriend.

 It was your turn to pick up the groceries this week. Dean had wanted you to grab him some shampoo, and a stick of deodorant. That was all he needed. You on the other hand needed a bunch of things. You were out of tampons and running low on pain meds for the monthly visit from Mother Nature. The fridge was practically empty, and the freezer was no better.

 You grabbed a cart before entering the store. It was pretty empty for just after one in the afternoon. Everyone was at work, which was going to make shopping a little easier. You went about your usual routine. Starting with fruits and vegetables. You had certain things you needed in order to make dinner. Dean liked to have lettuce in the house at all times because of how useful it was. Tacos, burgers, salads. So many purposes. You picked up some carrots, onions  and celery too, knowing it was going to get cold. It was always good to have for soup.

 You turned down the aisle you needed the most, grabbing a box of tampons off the shelf, along with a box of pads, just in case. Your cart was getting pretty full with all of the stuff you threw in on your way to this aisle. You headed straight, knowing that Dean’s shampoo would be at the other end when you hit something.

 “Y/N,” the female voice breathed out. Your eyes darted up, not believing what you were seeing. The last person you wanted to see, well, one of the last people you wanted to see anyways. Hell, you were surprised she spoke. 

 “Jo,” you scoffed, taking your cart to move away from her.

 “Y/N, wait,” she called out.

 “What? What do you want Jo?” you rolled your eyes, throwing your hands up in defeat. Her stomach was huge. She had to be seven months along by now, at least. You had to admit to yourself, it was a little funny to see her in this situation.

 “To apologize,” she frowned. “Can - can I take you out to lunch, please. I promise, one lunch and I’ll leave you be.”

 “What’s the point?” you sighed.

 “We were best friends at one point,” she sniffled.

 “Were,” you pointed out.

 “Please. I just - I want to explain things,” she shrugged. “Please. You can hate me all you want after. But I’d really like to tell you everything.”

 “Okay,” you nodded. “One lunch.”

 “I’ll meet you at Benny’s in twenty?” she told you.

 “Yeah,” you agreed.

 You went about the rest of your groceries. Your mind was reeling over what just happened. What could she possibly have to say to you, especially after all this time? She had Ketch, and she had a baby on the way. She was wasting her time, and quite frankly, so were you. There was nothing more she could say to make amends for all she did. She had proven she didn’t care about you long ago. 

 You paid for your groceries and headed back out to your car. Thankfully, you didn’t buy anything frozen so you could afford to sit for a little while without things melting. You didn’t think this lunch was going to last long whatsoever. You had visions of you storming out on her. Or worse, seeing Ketch there with her. You really didn’t want to do this. Why did you have to be a good person? Why did you have to listen to that tiny voice in the back of your head that was telling you to hear her out. 

 You pulled into the parking lot at Benny’s, taking the first available spot around the side of the building. You swallowed hard, knowing full well you should have ditched and headed home. You held your head high, willing yourself to stay confident. You didn’t want her to see you were weak or hurt by this. You were over this now. You were over Ketch and you had moved on. Your life was going better than it had been for a long time. You weren’t about to resort back to how things were before. 

 Jo was sitting in one of the booths that the group of you used to sit in late at night when you were drunk. They served the best of everything in this diner. It was a shock that you and Dean hadn’t eaten here yet. He’d like everything here, you thought to yourself. She had her hands out in front of her, linked together. You could see she was nervous. She had every right to be after what she had done to you.

 “Hi,” you greeted her. Her head flicked up, her eyes meeting yours.

 “Hi,” she swallowed hard. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

 “I’m a woman of my word,” you said plainly, taking a seat in front of her. You kept your expression emotionless. 

 “Y/N, I’m so sorry, for everything,” she breathed out. “Words can’t even begin to describe how sorry I am for what I’ve done to you.”

 “You’re damn right,” you scoffed. “There is nothing you can say that is going to make up for two years of it, Jo. Nothing. I don’t know what your intentions were when you wanted to talk, but if you thought I was just going to forgive you and we’d be best friends again, then you are stupid.”

 “Y/N, I’m not expecting your forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. I just wanted you to know my side of it. I should have told you about it. I really should have, but I was in trouble,” she began. “I- I was running out of money about two years ago. My mom only left me a little bit of money, the rest had to go towards paying off her debts, and everything else. I needed a job, so I asked Ketch if he could get me a job somewhere. A waitress at the country club, anything! I was desperate. I had nothing. I was about to be kicked out of my apartment.  He told me he had a job for me and to show up at his place at nine. I thought I was helping with a party or something. Turns out he was offering me money to sleep with Mick. So I did. I made a couple of grand for a couple of nights. I thought that was it. I had enough to keep my apartment, and I got the job on campus like I told you.  Then he told me that he’d pay me more for a threesome. I figured the extra cash would help so I agreed.  I didn’t know it was him until after the fact. He’s been paying me to keep quiet about it and to keep sleeping with him. He didn’t want to screw things up with you. He does love you, I want you to know that that part wasn’t made up. He was pissed and heartbroken when you didn’t show up for the wedding. I found out I was pregnant a few days after the wedding-”

 “I’m sorry, but he didn’t love me if he was sleeping with you,” you shook your head. “I’m sorry that things turned out that way for you, I am. But I wish someone would have told me I was wasting my time on him. I could have been happy with someone else. I was going to marry him! Why didn’t you stop that? Why weren’t you my friend? Why was he more important than that?”

 “You’re right. I realize that now. I’m nearly eight months pregnant with his baby; a baby he doesn’t want. I screwed up my life. I know he’s not going to stick around when I have her,” she admitted. “But I want you to know that he’s not over you. He’s convinced that he’s going to win you back. He’s just giving you space.”

 “I’m with someone else now,” you shared. “Ketch is dead to me as far as I’m concerned.”

 “Good for you. I hope this one treats you much better than he did. You deserve so much better than Ketch was to you. He controlled you too much. You look happier than I’ve seen you in a long time. You haven’t messed your life up like I have.”

 “It’s not completely your fault,” you shrugged. “You didn’t exactly have a choice.”

 “I had choices, I just made the wrong ones until I couldn’t get out of them,” she swallowed hard. “I’m glad you’re okay after all of it. I’m glad nothing happened to you. You deserve a better life than what was given to you.”

 “It took me a long time to be okay,” you admitted. “I - I wish you the best with your life, and your baby. Congratulations on the girl, by the way. I hope for your sake, he sticks around to help you. For once, he should pay for his mistakes.”

 “Who knows with him,” she whispered. “His parents are being more than supportive. Makes up for him.”

 “Good. I’m glad,” you nodded.

 “I should let you go, get back to your boyfriend and your life. You’ve got groceries,” she reminded you. “Thank you for coming.”

 “Yeah,” you breathed out. “Good luck with everything.”

 “Can - can I call you after she’s born?” she questioned.

 “Sure,” you agreed. “Take care.”

 You hopped back in your car, peeling out of the parking lot to head home. There was a part of you that felt really bad for her. It all started because she needed money. All because her mom died suddenly and she couldn’t handle things on her own. She made bad choices after bad choices and ended up in an even worse situation with a monster. You understood where she was coming from. You were happy you sat down with her and learned what you did. Ketch was an asshole, but then again you already knew that. It just sucked it took her this long to come forward. It didn’t matter to you at this point. You were over it. 

 You pulled into the driveway, finding Dean’s car still sitting in it’s usual spot. Was he home from work early today? It was rare for him to be home early. You managed to take all the bags inside in one go. The front door was already unlocked for you, and quite frankly, you couldn’t wait to see your handsome boyfriend when you walked inside.

 “Dean, I’m home,” you called out as you shut the door. Pure silence. Not a single sound from the house. You shrugged it off as you kicked your shoes off, taking the grocery bags to the kitchen.

 You began unpacking them, putting everything on the counters before putting them in their respective places in the house. It looked like a lot more in the cart than it did when you had it on the kitchen counter.

 “Hi,” his deep voice called out. You smiled, turning around to face him. Your face dropped when you saw him. His nose was red, his eyes a little puffy. He looked exhausted standing there in a green henley and pyjama pants.

 “Hi handsome,” you cocked your head to the side. “No offense babe, but you look a little under the weather.”

 “I caught a damn cold,” he pouted. Your heart melted at how adorable his pout was. He could get you in a lot of trouble with a face like that.

 “Poor baby,” you frowned. “I can make you some soup if you want?”

 “Would you mind? I feel like shit - no I feel worse than shit,” he admitted. “My nose is stuffy, my head is pounding. My throat is killing me. The worst part is that I can’t even kiss my girlfriend when she gets home from finishing her last exam.”

 “Come kiss my cheek,” you smiled. “I’m not afraid of your germs.”

 He slowly stepped over to you, a smile creeping up on his lips. You reached your arm out, your heart rate picking up as he grew closer, slipping into your hold. His lips pressed against your cheek, lingering a little longer than you anticipated.

 “How did your final go?” he asked you, moving to sit on top of the counter.

 “Aced it,” you grinned. “As you can see I went grocery shopping. Any kind of soup you want?”

 “Can you make tomato rice?” he pleaded, giving you his puppy dog eyes.

 “Anything for that face,” you beamed. “I want you to go into my bathroom, the drawer on the left. There is some dayquil in there that should help you feel a bit better. I’ll give you the nyquil before bed tonight.”

 “Thank you,” he muttered. “I’ll take these with me.” He grabbed the two boxes of yours off the counter before heading to your room. You smiled as you watched him walk away.

 You managed to get the rest of the groceries away without a problem. You felt bad for Dean. Having a cold was the worst and he sounded like he was suffering. You could only hope that the dayquil helped him, along with the soup you were making. You didn’t like seeing him sick.

 “Y/N,” he called out, his voice coming out raspy.

 “Hmm?” you cocked your eyebrow, glancing over at him.

 “I would help but-”

 “Go lay down. I’ll bring your soup in for you in a little bit. I’ll hold you later, play with your hair the way you like it,” you assured him.

 “I’m so damn lucky to have you,” he muttered the best he could.

 “Nah, that’s me,” you winked.

 You pulled out the supplies you needed to make his tomato and rice soup. You couldn’t have been more thankful for the vegetables you picked up. You had everything you needed to make it. You just hoped it was good. You hoped it made him feel a million times better. You didn’t like seeing him sick like this. He looked miserable.

 It took about an hour to get the soup done. It looked and smelled delicious. You couldn’t wait to try it for the first time. You placed two bowls on a tray you had tucked away in a cupboard, along with two glasses of water and a sleeve of saltine crackers.

 You walked over to Dean, seeing him curled up on the couch with a blanket covering his body. He was exhausted. You just wanted to hold him until he felt better. He had what looked to be Snow Day, playing on the tv. Not that he was paying attention.

 “Babe, time for some soup,” you whispered, nudging him awake. He let out a groan, shifting from his lying position just a little.

 “Sorry,” he mumbled, “tired.”

 “I know,” you frowned. “I’ve got your soup, and some crackers. I hope this makes you feel a little better.”

 “Me too,” he let out a dry laugh. “Thank you for making me this.”

 “‘Course, boyfriend,” you giggled. “I hope you like it.”

 “I’m sure I will,” he nodded, taking the spoon off the tray. The steam coming off the soup was still pretty strong. You took a spoonful, blowing on it before taking your first bite. The flavours hit your taste buds instantly. It was delicious. One of the nicest soups you had ever made. Dean looked like he was enjoying it. “This is delicious, sweetheart.”

 “Thank you,” you beamed at him. “Fingers crossed this makes you feel better.”

 “Just seeing you makes me feel better,” he shared with you.

 “You’re such a sap,” you giggled. “I love that about you.”

 “I gotta make up for not being able to kiss you for the next couple of days,” he shrugged.

 “You’re cute,” you smiled softly. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

 “I’m the lucky one,” he shrugged. “How was your day anyways?”

 “Interesting,” you started. “I uh- I ran into Jo in the grocery store. She asked me to have lunch with her.”

 “Did you end up going?” he questioned, taking another bite of his soup.

 “Yeah, I did. We didn’t eat lunch or anything, but I heard what she had to say,” you began. “She told me about what happened between her and Ketch. How it all got started. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it at first. But I was kind of glad she told me. She was having money problems after her mom died, and Ketch offered her money to sleep with his friend. It ended up that he was paying her to sleep with him and to keep it quiet after that. She told me that he loves me and all that jazz. He’s apparently heartbroken that we’re over and he doesn’t want anything to do with her or their kid.”

 “That really doesn’t surprise me all that much,” he admitted. “Did she apologize to you?”

 “Yeah,” you nodded. “She did. But we’re never going to be friends like we were before. Or even acquaintances.”

 “Yeah, I wouldn’t be either. I’m glad she apologized to you though. She owned you that much. It's a little sad it took her this long to do it.”

 “Yeah,” you agreed. “I told her that part of my life was over and I had moved on with someone pretty great.” you nudged him. You looked over at him, seeing the smile appear across his cheeks. You liked seeing him smile like that. You knew you did a good job of making him feel wanted and that was something he needed.

 “I’m not that great,” he shrugged. “Better than Ketch in some ways-”

 “Dean Winchester, one, don’t you dare compare yourself to someone like Ketch, ever! And second, you are the best person I know,” you argued.

 “Y/N, I can’t give you what he surely could have. I’m not rich or have connections like he does-”

 “And I’m not asking you to,” you assured him, letting out a breath. You glanced over at him, seeing the sad look in his eyes. That same sad look he wore for a little while when he moved in all those months ago. He had the same look he had from time to time when he didn’t feel so great. “Dean, that’s not really the problem is it?”

 “I just- I’m having an off day, and I’m not sure I deserve you.”

 “C’mere,” you muttered. He placed his half eaten bowl of soup on the table in front of the couch, you doing the same. There was no way you were letting him feel like this. He shifted closer to you and you opened your arms up for him to move into. He rested his head on your shoulder, melting into your hold. You pressed your lips against his heated forehead before resting your cheek on his head.

 “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

 “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. You know that,” you stated. “Ketch isn’t half the man you are. He may have more money than he needs, and connections to a lot of people. That’s what my mom wants. Not me. I don’t care how much you make, or what kind of job you have. I care about you. I care about the person you are, and the relationship we have. Nothing materialistic matters to me. Not in the same way it does to everyone else I grew up with. As far as I’m concerned, this is exactly where I want to be. You’re exactly who I want to be with. My best friend.”

 “Me too,” he nodded.

 “Good,” you smiled softly. “I’ll always be here for you. Whether it’s when you’re dying from sickness, or your head’s not okay. I’ll always be here to make sure you’re okay, Dean.”

 “Goes the same the other way around,” he sniffled before clearing his raspy throat. “I love you, you know that?”

 You swore, your heart was going to leap out of your chest. Dean just muttered those three words to you. He said them first. He had a fever of one hundred and something, and you knew he was high on cold medication, but he still said them. Your lip curled upwards, tugging him closer to you before you placed another kiss to the top of his head.

 “I know,” you nodded. “I love you too.”

 “Really?” he asked, his voice going a little higher than normal.

 “Really,” you stated. “My poor sick boyfriend.”

 “Is it okay that I said it?” he mumbled. “It’s not too fast?”

 “Not too fast,” you whispered. “Thank you for saying them. Means a lot to me that you do.”

 “Means a lot that you do too,” he said lowly. “I’m pretty sure I took nyquil.”

  “I’m pretty sure you did too, babe,” you giggled. “Get some rest. I’ll be here.”

  “Mhhh good.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Did you like it? What was your favourite part? Share your thoughts with me via reblog, reply or send me an ask! Your responses and comments are what keep me sharing stories like this one! 

[lis-likes-fics]

English, Please

Part 1: Late to School... By a Lot

~~~

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you groaned, frustration only rising in your body as you assessed the situation. Your school had been released for Christmas and New Year’s break and you were visiting family and friends out of state. Your break was long and enjoyable and it had been time to finally go back home and back to school where you would started second semester.

Except you weren’t back at school for your second semester yet. On the trip back home, your car had broken down so you and your parents were waiting for a tow truck to come and pick you up from the gas station where your car had stopped working.

You dad knew the car had been acting up and said we would get it fixed before it was time to head back home, but everything moved so fast that he’d forgotten to. So you got on the road, halfway from your destination home and from where you’d just left.

You would’ve been fine missing the first couple of days back after the break, it’s not like you’d have a schedule change or like you would have a test for when you got back.

Except you did.

Before you left for your break, your French Professor gave you all a set of flashcards to look over for your break of the things you’d learned and told you all that you would have a beginning of semester exam to see what you remembered. The test would be the first grade of the semester and you couldn’t retake it.

So now you were stressed because you needed to take that test. That and you wanted to see your professor again. You knew it wasn’t exactly right to have feelings for your teacher, but you couldn’t help it if you found him highly attractive.

You weren’t the only one who thought so either. A lot of the female students in his class only take the class because of him. You had decided to because you like the French language and it was your last year of high school. Why switch languages?

Then three new, young members of the staff showed up, both named Professor Mikaelson. Professor Niklaus Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson, and Elijah Mikaelson were brothers who’d decided to start teaching.

While Niklaus was attractive, he also proved to be quite strict when it came to teaching his students, and sometimes his assignments weren’t the easiest and he made sure of it. But the students still loved him. You had him for your art class and he liked some of your work.

Kol was the theatre professor. Everyone in that class liked him, but if you didn’t know how he taught you would think he wasn’t supposed to be a teacher at the school. You were in his class, as you decided to take art and theatre, trusting that it would be fun to double in fine arts. He always admired your way of acting.

Then there was the undeniably attractive Professor Elijah Mikaelson. You were surprised to end up getting all three brothers and some call you lucky, as only a few ended up having the privilege.

He was kind but strict enough to make sure everyone did their work to the absolute best of their ability. You were one of his top students. You always showed up at least two minutes early for his class, you always but bonus work at the bottom of your assignments to show that he knew you paid attention in his classes, since you had to talk in French in his classes and anytime you speak to him, you made sure to put extra care in your word choice and pronunciation, and you turned in your assignments early with extra work.

You knew you were one of his top students, but you didn’t know you were his favorite.

~

You’d been able to get the car fixed and back to Virginia before the last day of the first week back. You got up extra early on Friday, put on your best clothes, grabbed everything you would need and made sure to read your flashcards going out of the door and into your own fully functioning car before heading off to school.

In the hall you ran into your best friend, Caroline. Oh, boy. “Where the hell have you been?!” She yelled, rushing over to you and inspecting you.

You sighed and spoke, “Sorry, Care. Dad’s car broke down when we were halfway through our trip and we got stuck in a city with very suckish connection and I couldn’t call. I would have, I swear.”

“Well, you missed Professor Mikaelson’s test! He said no retake.” Caroline told you.

You nodded, “I know, I know.” You sighed, “Look the bell is about to ring and I have Professor Niklaus first. I’ll catch you at lunch?”

She nodded, “You better. See you at lunch.”

You nodded and rushed to your class without being called by the others teachers to stop running. When you got to the class, Niklaus smirked and said, “Ah, Miss Y/N, you’re alive. I was beginning to worry that something happened to one of my good students.”

You gave him a nod, an apologetic smile, and told him, “Forgive me, Professor. I had car troubles and got stuck outside of Virginia. If there’s any work I need to get done, I will immediately.”

He nodded, “No worries. You’ve only missed an assignment that’s due tonight. Since you were not here, I’ll have you turn it in Monday morning. It shouldn’t be difficult for you.”

You nodded, “Of course, Professor. Thank you.” The bell rang and he announced for everyone to take their seats.

~

The first three classes ended and you were watching the clock as your English class moved so slowly. After the bell, you stood with your already gathered items and rushed down the halls to get to Professor Elijah’s class. If you got there quick enough, you’d have three minutes to tardy bell.

You got there, the first student to the classroom and sighed. Elijah was standing outside of his classroom door, seemingly pleased to see you but a little frustrated at the same time.

You bowed your head as you walked up to him. “Professeur Mikaelson. Pardonne-moi. Au retour de la pause, notre voiture est tombée en panne. Je viens de rentrer hier soir. (When we got back from the break, our car broke down. I just got back last night.)”

The professor furrowed his brows as he listened. You continued, carefully thinking over your words so you don’t mess something up.

“J'espérais pouvoir encore faire le test. Je pourrais venir après l'école. Je pourrais faire du travail supplémentaire. Tout ce que tu as besoin que je fasse, s'il vous plaît. (I hoped I could still do the test. I could come after school. I could do some extra work. Whatever you need me to do, please.)

Elijah closed his eyes and held up his hand. You pursed your lips as you waited for his response. "Tu es l’un de mes meilleurs. En raison des circonstances, je vous autoriserai à le prendre. Merci pour l'explication. Venez me voir pendant le déjeuner après avoir mangé. (You are one of my best. Due to the circumstances, I will allow you to take it. Thanks for the explanation. Come see me during lunch after eating.)

You smiled and spoke, "Merci beaucoup! (Thank you so much!)”

You walked into the class and took your seat, setting everything out and getting right to work as you waited for the bell.

After the class ended, you got to lunch and quickly grabbed your meal sitting with Caroline as you dug in quickly. “Woah, woah, woah! Slow down!”

“Can’t. I have to get to Professor Mikaelson’s classroom during lunch so I can take the test. He’s allowing me to do it because of what happened. I’ve got to get there quickly.” You told her.

She asked, “He’s letting you take it? That’s so weird, he was so insistent on no retakes.”

You shrugged, “I guess since I hadn’t taken it yet, it doesn’t count. I dunno. I just need to hurry.”

“Eat, don’t inhale.” She told you, giving a small look of slight disgust at how you were practically stuffing your face. She then raised a brow and gave a suggestive look, “Do you think you’ll be doing some under the table work?”

You almost choked on your food as you looked at her, coughing a little, “What? That’s ridiculous! He’s a professor, I’m a student! We can’t do that!”

She shrugged, “Well, we are seniors and you are a consenting adult. So…”

You shook your head, “You are unbelievable, Care.”

She shrugged again, “Hey, do you have a pen or pencil I could borrow? I lended mine to someone in my last class and forgot to get it back. I need to write something real quick.”

You nodded and dug in your bag, “I only have the one because I stupidly left my spares at home, so give it back.” She nodded and grabbed the pen, quickly getting to work with whatever she was writing.

You finished your food and stood, throwing your bag over your shoulder and saying, “See you next period in theatre.”

She nodded, “Okay, good luck.” She gave a suggestive movement and you rolled your eyes as heat rushed to your cheeks.

Professor Elijah Mikaelson was a very formal and professional teacher. He would never. Especially not with someone like you.

But that didn’t stop your mind from wandering.

You finally got to class and took a breath before knocking on the door.

“Entrez. (Come in.)” His voice came through the door, the French accent slipping off of his tongue so elegantly.

You took another breath and stepped in. “Je suis ici. (I am here.)

He looked up, raised an eyebrow, and smiled. "Ah. Mademoiselle Y/L/N. Viens t'asseoir. (Ah. Miss Y/L/N. Come and sit down.)” He motioned to the chair he moved in front of his desk.

You nodded and sat down in the chair, setting your things to your side. “Merci encore. (Thanks again.)”

He stood and went to retrieve your assignment. You dug in your bag for your pen and closed your eyes shut. “Merde. (Shit.)” You muttered.

“Excuse-moi? (Excuse me?)” Elijah asked, a hint of amusement in his voice at your use of profanity.

You pursed your lips and spoke, “Pardonne-moi. J'ai oublié mon stylo. (Forgive me. I forgot my pen.)”

He lifted one side of his suit jacket, reaching into an inside pocket and pulling out a sleek and fabulous black pen with a single strip of gold at the tip of it. “Utilisez le mien. (Use mine.)”

He handed the pen over to you and you admired it’s elegance. While you did so, he slid a couple of blank, lined pieces of paper over to you and a seperate stack of two papers covered in printed writing.

You looked over it and then up to him. He explained, “Je veux que vous traduisiez parfaitement cet extrait de The Great Gatsby. Vous n'aurez droit qu'à trois erreurs. Si vous ne terminez pas avant la fin du déjeuner, je vous laisserai rester tard et donnerai un mot à votre prochain professeur. Tu peux commencer. (I want you to translate this excerpt from The Great Gatsby perfectly. You will only be allowed three errors. If you don’t finish before lunch is over, I’ll let you stay late and give your next teacher a note. You can begin.)”

You stared at the paper blankly, surprised and nervous. You didn’t think this would be the assignment, it wasn’t what he described.

“Quelque chose ne va pas? (Something is wrong?)” He asked.

You shook out of your daze and muttered, “Non, juste confus. Je pensais que c'était un test de mémoire. (No, just confused. I thought it was a memory test.)

"C'était pour tout le monde. Je comprends votre situation, mais vous n'avez toujours pas passé le premier test. Vous avez donc un test plus difficile à faire. (It was for everyone. I understand your situation, but you still haven’t passed the first test. So you have a more difficult test to do.)

He motioned to the papers and for you to get started. You nodded and uncapped the pen, taking a breath in and bringing the papers to you and taking a breath.

He brought a stack of papers to his desk and put them in front of them as he went through to start grading. You bit your lip and began working, writing your student ID number and the date in the top right corner.

You took another breath in and began reading the first sentence. You translated it carefully as the tip of the pen wrote against the paper.

You admired how the pen complimented your handwriting. You’d been told once or twice that you had such great handwriting and people always admired it, but you never really paid much attention to it, not caring much for how you wrote but more about what you wrote.

Your neat and elegant cursive wrote onto the paper smoothly and quickly as you began working. After a few uncertain translations and read-thrus to make sure it was right, you sunk into it and began to right, your nerves sinking away.

Elijah looked over the papers he was grading and over to your progress. His breath hitched slightly and his eyes went wide. You looked up a little when you heard the small gasp.

"Monsieur? (Sir?)” You asked carefully. He shook his head and cleared his throat, “Pardonne-moi. Continuer. (Forgive me. Carry on.)

You nodded slowly and went back to your paper. After a while, the bell rang and you looked up as you but your lip. Elijah took in a deep breath and asked, ” Avez-vous besoin de plus de temps? (Do you need more time?)“

You nodded, "S'il vous plaît. (Please.)”

He nodded and motioned to your paper for you to finish. He grabbed a sticky note and began scribbling on it. You looked up through your eyelashes, subtly looking at what he wrote.

As he wrote out your name, you bit your lip and took in a small breath. Why was your name in his handwriting so sexy?

You shook your head and continued.

When you finally finished almost ten minutes before your next class ended, you nodded and slid your papers over. He looked over the paper and told you carefully, “Vous avez oublié de mettre le nom complet et le numéro de classe de votre professeur. (You forgot to put the full name and class number of your teacher.)

You looked up at him and the paper. You didn’t think you would have to since your paper would be different from everyone else’s. But you didn’t argue.

Instead, you added the class number and Elijah’s full name up at the top next to your student ID number.

"Merci. Tu peux partir. (Thank you. You can leave.)” He handed you your note and confiscated your papers, setting them to the side.

You nodded slowly and stood, getting to the door before saying a small, “Au revoir. (Goodbye.)” He nodded and you turned to leave, heading to your next class.

You opened the door slowly and walked in. The teacher looked up at you and smiled. “Ah, Miss Y/N. Good to see you weren’t intending on skipping the whole class.” Professor Mikaelson spoke, er, the other Professor Mikaelson.

You handed him the note, “My apologies.”

Kol read the note quickly and nodded, “No, the apologies are mine. It seems my brother was keeping you busy. Have a seat and write down these last things before class ends. Thank you.”

You nodded, “Thank you, Professor.”

You went to take your seat with Caroline who was giving you a large and unsettling smile. “So…how did it go?”

You rolled your eyes, “I got a more difficult test, that’s how it went. I had to translate a two-page excerpt from The Great Gatsby into French.” You held out your hand, “Pen, please.”

She nodded, “Oh, my bad.” She handed you your pen that she’d stuffed in her bag. “I assumed you wouldn’t need it.”

You rolled your eyes and got to work before the class ended.

~

You spent the day nervous about what you might have gotten on the test. You were in your last class of the day sitting next to Damon Salvatore who would give suggestive winks to you whenever the word “sexual” would pop up since you were in a science class talking about how some organisms sexually reproduce and how other asexually reproduce.

You looked down at your work when the door opened to the classroom. One of the office aids handed a note to the professor and you shrugged and looked back down at your work. Then she spoke, “Miss Y/N Y/L/N.”

You looked up and she handed out the note for you. You stood from your chair and retrieved the note. You returned to your seat and read it to yourself.

’Miss Y/N Y/L/N,

I have graded your paper and would like to discuss it with you after school, if you are free today. If not, come see me Monday morning before school starts.

Professor E. Mikaelson.’

You sighed and bit your lip, half wondering if you talk would be good or not and half admiring your name in his writing.

Damon nudged your shoulder, “Oo, someone’s in trouble.”

You laughed at your friend’s antics, “Shut up, Damon.”

He laughed and nudged you again, childishly pointing at his paper to the word ‘sex’. You rolled your eyes, “You and Caroline suck.”

~

You waved your goodbyes to your friends and headed to Elijah’s classroom, your nerves getting to you as you shakily raised your fist to the door. You took a breath and knocked.

“Entrez. (Come in.)” He said through the door. You sighed and opened the door once again.

“Je suis ici. (I am here.)” You told him. He turned to you smiled and spoke, “Miss Y/N.”

You stopped slightly as the words that came out of his mouth were English and not French.

You nodded slowly, “Oui. J'ai votre note. (Yes. I have your note.)”

He nodded, “Yes. Thank you for coming to see me.”

Your knees almost buckled just then. You were not expecting him to speak in English. In fact, you had never heard him speak English before. You were always supposed to speak to him in French and he, you. Those were his rules.

“Bien sûr. (Of course.)” You continued to speak French, even if you did stutter. You didn’t want to get in trouble for not doing it.

His voice was so amazing when he spoke in that lovely language, but it was even better to hear him speak in English. It was still so elegant in his voice. You expected his voice to have the same accent as his brothers, but it did not. His voice held a trace of it, but it had a certain uniqueness to it.

You loved it.

He motioned to his desk and had you sit back down in the chair he pulled up again in case you came. “Please, come and sit." He removed his suit jacket and laid it over his chair before taking a seat.

You sat down slowly and carefully, making sure your weak legs could support you. He pulled up your paper and looked at it, sighing as he handed it back to you. You took that as a bad sign and slumped slightly.

He spoke, "I read your paper and checked over it.”

You nodded, “Et? (And?)”

He smiled, “You passed with flying colors. The only error I saw was a simple and common mistake.”

You nodded, a smile on your lips. “Ç'est incroyable! (That’s/It’s incredible!)

He nodded, "It is. I have never had a student like you. And this handwriting is impeccable. I have been rooting for the person with this handwriting since the work they turned in was so amazing, but I could only identify it by the student ID. When I saw you write…I couldn’t handle myself.”

“Quoi? (What?)” You asked, surprised.

He nodded and stood, walking around his desk to you and taking seat at the edge of it next to you, “You are the best student I’ve ever had. And your handwriting is the best I’ve ever seen in my life. And, may I say, you are the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.”

You were speechless. You were dreaming, you had to be. There was no way. It just didn’t make sense.

“Je- er… Tu-… (I- er… You-…)” You couldn’t seem to find English or French words to use.

He asked, “Have I overstepped?” He got off of his desk and began to travel back behind it. You spoke instantly, “Non! (No!)”

He looked back at you, “So you won’t mind my saying that you are a talented and beautiful human being who I’m most fortunate to have in my class. I missed you while you were gone. I was worried when you didn’t show the first few days.”

You were at an extreme loss for words. Not only was he finally speaking English, he was telling you how beautiful and talented you were? This didn’t make sense. You had to be dreaming. Right?

“Monsieur…” You began, trying to figure out what to say.

He finally told you, “English, please.”

You don’t know what possessed you to say this in such a way, but you probably should have thanked it.

“But I thought you liked French.” You spoke, your brow raising as your words sounded like silk and your voice deepened very slightly.

His eyes seemed to light up. Like you had never heard him speak English until now, he had not heard you speak it. He sighed as he spoke, “Beautiful.”

He smirked, taking a couple of steps toward you, “Someone’s naughty.” He turned your chair over to face him.

Your face heated up as you realized what you had just said and what he was doing. “Oh my- Forgive me.”

He kneeled in front of you, looking up into your eyes as his darkened slightly. His hand landed softly on your knee as he looked at you. Your body heated up as you assessed the situation.

It was safe to say that you were thoroughly turned on and hot. Your breath heat up as you looked into those dark brown eyes.

“The pleasure of hearing your voice is so fulfilling. It’d be a wonder to find out how fulfilling you could be…” He spoke, seemingly thinking out loud.

Continue reading on Wattpad or Ao3...

~~~

Suit and Staglist: @avala-moon​​ @xxwritemeastoryxx​​ @melodiclovesong​​ @thebrotherssalvatore321​​ @strangerliaa​​ @njeancastro316​​ @dumble-daddy​ @mrs-salvawhore​ @deviously-innocent​​

[al3x1ss]

Bring them to your home for the holidays {HCs}

Includes: Oikawa, Akaashi, Noya, Terushima, Kiyoko

THIS IS WRITTEN WITH A FEMALE READER! ALSO, ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP!

Author’s note: In my family, thanksgiving means the Christmas stuff is put up after breakfast, so I got this idea ab the holidays and I got v happy. Enjoy!

Warnings: None, fluffy holidays for y’all!

Oikawa

okay mans HATES the cold confirmed

like snow comes he’ll probably hiss

(HISSING AT SNOW ME HONESTLY LMAO)

(Not me seeing a few feet of snow with my sisters and going “wow look at all that cocaine”)

ANYWAY

so y’all met when both of you happened to be in Brazil and he thought you were cute

long story short you had a few dinner dates, even hung out with Hinata!!

you guys hit it off very well :)

so you guys have been together for about 2 years and you’re like ya know what

“Come to my house for the holidays :)”

not only is this man a simp but he loves the warmth so ofc he says yes!!

so while you’ve lived here all your life, only really moving out of Tampa to Miami, you did have to take this tourist him to a basic spot

but you did want to take him to some of your favorite places

after him seeing your family again, you took him to one of your favorite carnivals!

then classic gotta go to the beach I mean

why not go to the ocean!!

issue with December weather in Florida is it changes every second so today was a bit C H I L L E D

(You did have to force him to eat something other than rice tho)

Picky eater kawa confirmed

what better way to spend December 25th than Disney

I mean

Mans whole went “wow 😍” when you told him

Kiyoko

BEST WOMAN I LOVE WOMEN

ahem

you were an exchange student during her whole high school career, turning into best friends and deciding to go to college together

college came along, and with the help of a few friends, parties, and a little too much twister, you realized

you were actually lesbian.

which you know what, we support!

it’s not like you’ve never liked a boy, it just happened to be that women were more your type

oh yeah another thing

Kiyoko is the prettiest thing in your eyes.

OH ANOTHER ANOTHER THING

HAVE I MENTIONED YOU REALIZED THAT YOU’VE ACTUALLY LIKED HER SINCE YOUR 1ST YEAR IN COLLEGE

NO?

OKAY.

so what you DONT know is that Kiyoko has realized she actually feels the same

during your third year in college, she had broken up with her boyfriend of a year, Tanaka, but never told you why

Huh

i wONdEr whY

But, after living in Japan for 7 years, Christmas time is rolling around once again

And you are going home for the holidays!

usually you would go home during summer break, but this time you really wanted to spend Christmas since your older brother had your niece!

and since Kiyo didn’t have any plans you were like

“hey, do you want to come home with me?”

home girl choked on her water 😳

“H-home?”

“Yeah! I’m going back to New Orleans for the holidays.”

cue brain calming down and like sLIGHT disappointment

but

it’s you

and she loves you.

HANGING OUT WITH YOU SORRY

so you guys did presents and stuff

your niece LOVES Kiyoko btw

your dad was like “👀”

I SEE YOU YOU SEE ME MAn

been knew you were 💅AND HE SUPPORTS

so around 4 you’re like let’s go do something!!

and she says okay!!

so one movie Kiyoko really loved was “Princess and the Frog”

Funny enough there’s actually a bakery you’ve gone too growing up

so you get New Orleans’ best beignets!

Ahh, fun times

next, you’ll always hear some type of caroling anywhere you are in the city

which means?

SMALL PARTIES

DANCING

FUN TIMES

you see random groups of people smiling around 7pm, the sun already down

and you’re thinking to yourself

Hey

I want to ask her to dance.

and you do :)

YALL BUST D O W N LIKE YES MAAMS

continuing

Finally at around 10pm you take her to this one street where each place has a bunch of Christmas wonderlands lit up

hile it doesn’t really snow in New Orleans, people used fake snow!!

gotta get that spirit somehow 😗

when I say Kiyoko is a goddess I mean it

the lights bouncing off her face while she’s smiling?

*chefs kiss*

Terushima

ah yes the city that everyone thinks is a state

IM SORRY J

BUT IM NOT EHDJFJHH

So

Chicago!! ✨

Terushima HAS visited Illinois before

However, surprisingly has never been to Chicago

So you were like

I’m born here!! 🥰

Come come!!🥺

And he said

Si si!! 🤪

so y’all flew out on the 20th

while your parents don’t live here, some old friends do

and why not have them meet your amazing boyfriend!

literally all of them were shocked I mean

(Y/N) likes a boy with a tongue piercing?

wack

the amount of BONKERS

but yes you love him very much

and he loves you!!

honestly your friends already fell in love with you two being in love it’s canon

afterwards you guys went too ZooLights

HE HAD THE AUDACITY TO THROW A SNOWBALL AT YOU

“YUJI MY PANTS ARE WET”

“IM SORRY PRINCESS IT WAS JUST A GOOD TIMING-“

you threw one at his face

Not y’all fighting like little kids-

n e wayz

best way to end the 24th?

ice skating-

nope.

It’s actually buying late presents because you two actually forgot to get some people presents and Christmas is literally in like 4 hours!!

YOU COULDNT CATCH YUJI IF YOU TRIED😳

MANS WAS ZOOMIN THROUGH EVERY STORE

GRANDMA? GOT IT

UNCLE? SURE

NEPHEW? YOU DONT EVEN GOT A NEPHEW

It was mega fun tho

surprisingly y’all didn’t get kicked out

you almost did when Terushima thought it would be a good idea to ride a skateboard into the electronics section at target 🤡

but we will ignore that for tonight ❤️

Akaashi

A NOTE:

this one will be the longest one with the most detail for certain reasons! also, for akaashi’s you do have a given birthday because Dec 30th is actually my birthday and I wanted to sprinkle in some of that ❤️

alright

best for last :)

So you got to be in an exchange program during college

and that’s when you met akaashi since you guys were in the same classes!

he also showed you around and was very sweet

so you offered to get him coffee

and after a while he confessed by giving you a copy of a book you both really loved

but

you semester was ending

which means home for the holidays

luckily, you guys would only have one more semester away from eachother before you guys graduated

but you did want to spend the holidays together

so you offered for him to come to New York with you

boy got excited so fast my heart-

wOOSH FOR THIS MAN

But like Christmas in New York with your loving boyfriend of 4 years?

Sign me up

So you know that during winter it’s a hit or miss with snow

is it still freezing cold?

Yes.

But can we guarantee 3 feet of snow every December?

No.

But we can guarantee it in like March JEJHRTJ

so

one thing you told him immediately was that you guys will be watching the ball drop from the roof

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to get mugged, shoved, or vomit on my shoes, Keiji.”

Yes ma’am indeed

so you guys had a pretty (quiet?) Christmas

your family?

LOUD AS CAN BE

but

Regarding to going places

You guys chilled all day in pajamas

Like the most y’all did was go to dunkin for hot chocolate

but the days leading to New Years?

GOTTA GO GO GO

Classic tree photo yes ma’am

nut crackers AND THOSE GIANT CHRISTMAS LIGHTS AND ORNAMENTS ACROSS FROM JIMMY FALLONS STUDIO?

Y’ALL KNOW THE STREET I FORGET THE STREET LMAO

bro side note their kabobs in that one corner

best thing I’ve ever had I stg

I haven’t been to the city since last Christmas wow now I miss it

OKAY NVM SORRY

you wanted to show Keiji so many things

but

You were used to walking like 10 blocks in any shoes as fast as you can

Akaashi was not 😂

So y’all had to take breaks sometimes

get him warmed and fed ya know

give the man smoochies 🥺

id be giving him smoochies 24/7 if I could

so you better for me 😠

His favorite place was the big Macy’s no lie

the perfumes and cologne section on the 2nd floor looked SO WELL PUT TOGETHER

okay nvm scratch that

FAO Schwartz was his favorite place

he loved the trains

you bought him a train as a late present SHH NO ONE SAY NOTHIN

So the 29th you decided to take him to where you were born

Brooklyn!

it was super fun showing him where you lived before you went to college

and before your siblings moved to different parts of the city

It was lovely

But the final thing you wanted to do was December 30th

your birthday :)

and one thing you absolutely love to do is ice skating

now usually you go ice skating at the public rink like a few minutes away from Rockefeller rink

not only was it cheaper, but there was a Panera like 2 blocks away so quick food!

but

you also wanted to give Keiji the experience

so you sucked it up and paid

you guys went at around 8 and had a blast

one of the best birthdays with him honestly

but, you realized people were starting to exit the rink at around 10

“Doesn’t the rink close at midnight?”

“Huh, weird.”

but Keiji kind of starts looking around while you realize you two are the only ones on the ice

So you’re like

I guess we have to get off 😔

But this sly fox

Pulls you to the center of the rink

Now, you were never one for the cliché act

Especially since so many proposals have happened on this rink that you’ve seen

But when you saw Keiji get to one knee

It didn’t even matter that this happened to so many other people

It was happening to you.

And it’s ESPECIALLY CLICHE

THAT IT WAS ON YOUR BIRTHDAY

however

I guess you can just suck it up, cuz at least you have a ring on your finger :)

- Lex 🖤🤍

End note: Let me know if you guys would like a part 2! Also if you have any ideas for a certain character or place, put it in asks!

[kelyon]

Nephila 2: Unexpected

The long-awaited (and totally unplanned) next chapter of Nephila, aka The One Where Rumple is a Giant Spider

In this chapter, Belle talks to Ruby and figures out what she needs to do

Read on AO3

In a perfect world, Belle French would have never known that you can buy pregnancy tests at the dollar store.

Wandering through the aisles of the Dahllah Hahbah, Belle imagined what that perfect world would be like. In a perfect world, she wouldn’t be alone for this trip--unless she had a plan to surprise the co-parent of her child, but even then she would probably have brought Ruby along with her. In a perfect world, she and her significant other would have gotten the most precise pregnancy test available. It probably would have been expensive, the sort of thing you need a prescription to get. In a perfect world, this would have been an expected baby, a wanted baby. In a perfect world, Belle would have already been trying to conceive, with the help of a committed partner. She would have been charting her cycle and taking her basal temperature and regularly injecting her uterus with human sperm.

In a perfect world, she wouldn’t have to specify human.

  Without really thinking about what she was doing, Belle piled junk into the green plastic shopping cart. Halloween candy was half off, and the tiny packs of beef jerky were only a dollar. She had been especially hungry for meat lately. In the clearance section, orange and black spider decorations stared at her. Their googly eyes were equal parts friendly and ominous.

She backed away from the Halloween stuff, back into the comparative comfort of a Christmas display. She grabbed a box of candy canes and made her way to the check out lane. 

The middle-aged cashier in a green polo shirt wore the dead-eyed glaze of someone who isn’t getting paid enough to express emotions on the clock. She didn’t talk to Belle as she scanned her purchases over the blinking red light. If she noticed the pregnancy test amidst all the junk food and paper products, she didn’t mention it. 

And that was fine by Belle. She didn’t want people to mention it. She didn’t want it to be real. That was part of why she had gone to the next town over to make this surreptitious purchase. She didn’t want to run the risk of anyone recognizing her. Even if no one saw the test, even if they were supportive and encouraging, Belle didn’t want to think about what was happening at all. If not thinking about something could keep it from being real, then Belle would have no troubles in the world. 

There was a used book store in this town, with a wider variety of subjects than the university store’s collection of last semester’s textbooks. Belle parked her car on the street and walked in. Maybe the smell of books would help her calm down.

It was the best kind of used book store, with towering shelves and hidden nooks and endless rooms leading into each other. There was even a cat wandering around, pestering patrons to pet her. Belle breathed deeply, content even in the sections that had no appeal to her. She brushed past cookbooks and theology, lingered briefly over a shelf of “Personal Relationship/Self-Help,” and eventually found herself in the most daunting section of all. 

There were several copies of The Book. The book she didn’t want to admit she was looking for. After all The Book was the sort of thing the average woman only needed for nine months out of her life. Belle would probably donate her copy once all this was over with. However it would be over. However it could be over. There was so much that she didn’t know. It would be good, at least, to have a baseline of information, to know what was normal for a human woman carrying a human child. 

She held The Book in one arm, making a conscious effort not to cradle it. As at the Dahllah Hahbah, she tried to camouflage The Book by surrounding it with decoys. She picked up a romance paperback, a history of lobster fishing, and a handbook for learning American Sign Language. After a moment of hesitation, Belle also pulled out a hardcover copy of Arachnology Through the Ages. When the stack of books was heavier than she could hold, Belle decided she was safe to check out. 

Unlike the Dahllah Hahbah, this bookstore was staffed solely by the woman who owned the place--a retiree with her long hair in a loose bun and reading glasses on a chain around her neck. Midmorning on a Wednesday, she was obviously thrilled to chat up each and every customer who walked through the door.

“Looks like you got a good haul!” the woman said brightly.

Belle made herself smile and put the books on the counter. “It’s mostly gifts for people.”

“Early Christmas, that’s a smart move!” The owner began to ring up the books. “Oh, Texas Destiny is such a good read! Wait til you get to the part with the wild horses. Do you like horses?”

Her smile was still fixed in place. “A… little.” Belle didn’t give a shit about horses, but this was not the time to talk about it. Maybe if the shopkeeper was distracted by Texas Destiny, she wouldn’t notice--

“Oh!” The woman’s voice rose to a pitch that could only mean the worst thing in the world for Belle: She had seen The Book. 

Belle could only be grateful that there was no one else in the store when the woman held up the copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting. 

The shopkeeper looked Belle up and down, her smile even wider than before. “So can I say congratulations?” 

Belle bit her lip and looked down. “Maybe? I--I don’t really know yet.”

“Oh sweetie!” the woman said. “If you’re buying this book, then you know. And even if it’s not this time, it’ll be soon, I can tell. You look very fertile.”

Mortified, cheeks blazing red, Belle couldn’t say anything.

The woman just kept talking. “This is the gold standard for moms-to-be. And they say it’s easy to read, doesn’t make anything too science-y.”

At that, Belle found her voice. “I’m actually working on my PhD at the University of Maine. I’ve already completed my masters in Zoology. Science-y stuff doesn’t bother me.”

The shopkeeper took that in stride. “And your... husband? Boyfriend? Partner? What do they do?”

Lives in a cave and spins gold webs, Belle thought but couldn’t say. Instead she pulled out her wallet. “It’s kind of complicated. Where do I swipe my card?”

“Oh, we’re cash only, sweetie.”

“Sure,” Belle barely kept the annoyance out of her voice as she put away her debit card and pulled out the twenty she saved for emergencies. “Of course you are.” 

****

When she got back to her crappy apartment, Belle thoroughly read and re-read the instructions on the pregnancy test. She wanted to believe that this was a complicated, mysterious process. Maybe she had been wrong the whole time. Maybe she had misread the signs and miscalculated the dates since her last period. Maybe she would go to the bathroom and find her underwear stained with blood, wouldn’t that be great? Wouldn’t that be so much better than the alternative?

Overthinking was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, the longer Belle dithered and avoided the inevitable, the more worked-up she found herself getting. She would have less anxiety as soon as she had some idea of what was happening. 

On the other hand, every second she didn’t know if she was pregnant was another second when she could pretend she definitely wasn’t pregnant. It could be true. She could be just imagining things. But she wouldn’t know until she peed on the goddamned stick.

Before she began, she set the kettle on for a cup of tea. By the time the water boiled, it was done. Belle held her mug of Earl Grey close to her chest and looked down at the little blue plus sign. 

It had happened.

She was pregnant.

From a motherfucking spider! 

****

“I’m coming over and I’m bringing margarita mix!” 

Ruby’s voice was loud, even considering the amplification of being on speakerphone. She had to shout to be heard over the noise of the road and the static of her phone and the pounding of Belle’s blood in her ears. 

Belle had managed to keep her composure for five entire minutes before the reality of her situation had come crashing down over her head and left her a sobbing mess. In her distress, she’d called her best friend, and Ruby had answered with her usual love language: girl time and booze.

“But I can’t drink!” Belle wailed. “I’m fucking pregnant and tequila will fucking kill my baby!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll drink your tequila, and you can just have the lime juice. Vitamin C is good for zygotes, right?”

“I don’t know.” Trying to pull herself together, Belle wiped her eyes with the heel of her hands. There were all kinds of vitamins she needed to be taking now--or at least, there would be if she was having a human baby. What would a spider baby need? What kind of thing had taken up residence in her body? “I don’t know anything!” 

“Okay, okay,” Ruby tried to soothe her. “Don’t panic. Everything will be worse if you panic. I am so close to your apartment, Belle. Just hang on until I get there. How about you look at the table of contents for your new book?”

Normally, there was nothing that calmed Belle down more than reading the table of contents to a book. There was something so comforting about knowing the progression of a text, to have all the steps and developments laid out in a simple outline, to get little teases as to the meat of the book. It was like reading the menu before sitting down to a feast, anticipating all the good things to come. 

But if Belle looked at the table of contents to What to Expect When You’re Expecting, she would be peeking into the progression of the next nine months of her life, and that was not a timetable she could think about right now.  

“I’ll be okay,” she told Ruby through wobbling lips. “Are you bringing food, too?”

“What, you think I’m an amature? I’m gonna hang up now so you don’t hear me freak out about parallel parking, but I’ll be up soon, hun. Okay?”

“Okay.” Belle nodded, even though Ruby couldn’t see it. She hung up the phone and took a deep breath.

 Ruby’s breezy confidence was exactly what Belle needed right now. It made her feel normal, even in the middle of the most un-normal thing she’d ever heard of. Ruby had been an RA while they were undergrads, a faithful post-breakup bar companion, and the recipient of teary late-night calls from friends going back to her high school days.  She knew everything about how to deal with someone who was scared and alone and crying her eyes out. Belle wasn’t the first person to call Ruby up in tears, and she wouldn’t be the last. 

It helped to think that her problems were not unique. Every day, women all around the world discovered that they had an unplanned pregnancy. For every one of them, it was the end of one world and the beginning of another. And Belle was just the same. The unorthodox manner of conception didn’t change the fact that Belle was merely one of thousands or millions of women who had been put in this exact same situation since the dawn of time. And, like so many of her countless sisters, Belle found solace in reaching out to other women, to find help and comfort and solidarity.  

Laden with grocery bags, Ruby burst through the unlocked door like an inverse Santa Claus. Instead of a fat old man bearing gifts for the nice, Ruby was a skinny young woman offering solace to someone who had been decidedly naughty. Belle was more happy to see her friend than she had been on any Christmas morning of her life. 

“Hey,” she tried, with a watery smile.

“Baby!” Ruby dropped the bags on the ground and pulled Belle in for a hug. “Or--no. That was a bad choice of words, wasn’t it? How do you feel? Am I allowed to say the B-word?”

Belle laughed and cried at the same time. “It’s fine,” she shook her head. “Don’t worry about saying the word ‘baby.’ That’s what it is, kinda.”

Ruby let Belle go and started unpacking her bags. “I know,” she said. “But ‘baby’ is an emotionally charged word. We can say ‘embryo,’ if that makes things easier on you. We’re almost doctors, Belle. We can be scientific about this.”

Scientifically, the word we should use is ‘larva,’ Belle thought but didn’t say. Ruby was her best friend and the most supportive person in the world right now. But even she would balk if she knew what Belle had really been up to on her trip to Australia. 

Together, they cleared the clutter and books off the coffee table. Then Ruby made Belle sit on the couch and watch while she spread out her feast.

“Okay, so the tequila is just for me, but I did bring Sprite--it’s caffeine free and it’ll work with the margarita mix. Additionally, chips and gauc, cheese puffs, cheesecake bites, chocolate chip cookies--”

“Did you sort your shopping list alphabetically?”   

“And--” Ruby went on, “a whole goddamned rotisserie chicken. I figured we could just rip into it with our hands like old-timey kings, like we’re going to throw the bones on the floor for the dogs.”

Belle let out an incredulous giggle. “That’s ridiculous! And perfect. Thank you so much, Ruby.”

“Oh! I also got this fancy salt for our margaritas. It’s made with black ants! Can you believe that?”

“Ants?” Belle whispered as her hand drifted over her stomach. Suddenly nauseous, she leapt off the couch and ran to the bathroom.

When she finished throwing up, Belle stayed on the ground next to the toilet. Ruby had lingered in the doorway but didn’t come in until Belle was done. She offered her a glass of water and Belle took it gratefully. Ruby sat on the edge of the bathtub, her face full of concern.

“Has the morning sickness been bad?”

“I don’t know if this is bad, I’ve never had it before!” Belle took a sip of water and closed her eyes. “Isn’t it supposed to be bad? Isn’t pregnancy supposed to be divine punishment for promiscuity?”

“If it’s punishment for anything, it’s for poor planning. I thought you were on the pill?”

Belle shook her head. “I kept it up for a few months after Will and Ana got back together for the fifth time, but when it looked like they were sticking I didn’t bother to refill my prescription. I don’t have sex with men often enough to justify taking a pill every day.”

“Except for when you do.”

“Yeah,” Belle took another drink. “Except for when I do.”

Ruby took a breath and rubbed her hands over her knees. “Listen, you know I’m here for you no matter what, right?”

Belle was still shaky, but she rested in that certainty. “Right.”

“And I’m not going to pressure you or make you do anything. You don’t even have to make any decisions today, okay?”

“Okay.”

“But I gotta ask: Belle, what do you want to do? Have you thought about your options? Do you want to keep it? Do you want to… not keep it?”  

Leaning her head back against the cool tile of her bathroom wall, Belle opened her eyes slowly. It had been such an ordeal to even confirm that she was pregnant, the thought of what came next had been too much to consider until now.

She took a deep breath, eight counts in, eight counts out. 

“I think ‘abortion’ is an even more emotionally charged word than ‘baby.’”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Ruby said. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal. I can drive you to Planned Parenthood, I’ll be with you every step of the way. If that’s what you want.”

“I know,” Belle said softly. Ruby’s support was unconditional. She would paint a nursery or hold Belle through a difficult procedure, both with equal willingness and sincerity. 

But Belle had an instinctive terror at the thought of going to a doctor’s office in her condition. What would a real urine test reveal about the nature of her child? What kind of image would show up on an ultrasound? Even if she wanted to get rid of this thing, would a regular abortion procedure work? Or would they have to go into her uterus with insecticide? 

“I don’t want to go to a doctor,” she said softly.

Ruby’s eyes widened. “But you have to go to an OB! Or even just talk to Victor. I mean, if you’re going to stay pregnant, you have to stay healthy and safe.”

“I know,” Belle closed her eyes again. What could she say? How could she explain any of this? “But… I… I don’t know what will happen.”

“What, like with insurance or something?”

Belle’s eyes shot open. That worked. “Yeah,” she lied. “I don’t want to deal with crazy medical bills.”

Ruby nodded thoughtfully. “Does Australia have universal health care?”

Now it was Belle’s turn to nod, slowly, saying words only slightly after the thoughts came into her head. “We… do. I should go back home… because of the healthcare.” 

“Yeah, no, you definitely should. Besides, your parents are there!”

At the mention of her parents, Belle’s tenuous hope crumpled. “Oh God!” she let out a wrenching cry. “My parents are gonna kill me!”

“Nooo,” Ruby crooned. She slid off the bathtub edge and joined Belle on the floor, pulling her into her arms and slowly rocking her back and forth. “I know it’s scary, but parents can be okay with things. My mom didn’t want to tell Granny about me until I was almost born, but it all turned out fine!” She gave Belle a chaste kiss on the temple. “Even if your mom and dad freak out at first, they’ll come around soon. Babies are cute. They’re easy to like.”

 Belle shook her head and let the tears fall silently. “Not this baby.”

“Don’t say that.” Ruby held Belle by the shoulders, twisting their bodies so they could look into each other’s eyes. “If you’re gonna keep this baby, Belle, you’ve got to own it. It will be a lovable baby because it will be your baby. You’ve got to fight for it! If you’re this thing’s mom, you have to be its biggest fan. Does that make sense?”

Still teary, Belle nodded. “It’s my baby, right or wrong.”

“Unless you want to go to Planned Parenthood. That is entirely up to you. But once you make that choice--” Ruby balled her hand into a fist and shook it in a display of fierce determination “--then it’s yours.”

“Mine,” Belle whispered. Her hand drifted down to her stomach. It was still flat and lifeless. There was nothing about her body that spoke of the life that grew inside her. Nothing that could tell her what manner of creature her child would become. But Ruby was right, it was hers. And not just hers. “I should tell the father too.”

“Yeah, you never mentioned what happened! Who was this guy? What was he like? How was the sex?”

“The sex was amazing,” Belle admitted with the candor of the overly distraught. “But it was just sort of a one-night stand. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.”

“Do you want to see him again? Do you think he’ll want to be involved?”

“He’ll have to be involved,” Belle said with a dawning sense of relief.

Of course the creature in the cave would be a part of their offspring’s life. If she was going to give birth to a spider, then it would have to be raised by a spider! And that thing… that thing was intelligent. It could care for its young. Maybe it could even take care of Belle.

She just had to see him again. 

Belle felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. As she stood up, she nearly floated off the bathroom floor. She offered her hand down to Ruby and helped her get up. 

“Tomorrow morning, I have to call Dean Mills to see if someone can teach my classes for the rest of the semester.”

Ruby cocked her head at Belle. “And why is that?”

“Because I’m going back to Queensland.” 

[rpf-bat]

Alright, you really wanna know?

(I warned you. The first half of this story is a sad one).

So.....I didn’t drop out of school by choice. I was two and a half years into a four year degree program. I was getting good grades, I was active in school clubs. I had matured out of my Punch Everyone phase, so I actually had a decent amount of friends lol. I even dated a couple people.

And then everything went straight to shit. My folks were....controlling. Like, they forced me to give them the password to my email account, and read every message in my Sent folder. They GPS tracked my phone and yelled at me for going to Taco Bell with my friends, when I “should have been in my dorm, studying”. They drained every cent out of my bank account to punish me for “talking back”, and I didn’t find out until my card declined on a tube of toothpaste at Walmart. (My roommate, J, bought my toothpaste for me. She’s going to be important later.)

Everything came to a head during Christmas break. I was supposed to be picked up to go home, at 8 am sharp. I asked my dad to meet me in the downstairs lobby of my dorm, so that I didn’t disturb my roommates, who would still be sleeping. For some reason, he insisted that he needed to meet me in my actual room.

Somehow, this escalated into a series of threatening texts from him. There’s one I remember verbatim: “I know how to wake that bitch up. Lesbians don’t scare me.”

J got really anxious, and said if he tried to barge into our room, after she told him not to, she was going to call the campus police.

I told J: “I wish I didn’t have to go home, and spend the next few weeks with him.”

J said: “So, don’t.”

She offered to let me spend Christmas with her family, in Atlanta. I accepted.

My father warned me, “If you don’t come home to Florida for Christmas, you will not be going to that school anymore.”

I thought he was bluffing. But then, one night, while sitting on J’s bedroom floor, I got a call from my school’s financial aid office. They informed me that spring semester would cost $15,000, that my father had informed them that he was not intending to pay it, and that I was therefore being evicted from the dorms.

I started a GoFundMe. It raised about $1,000. Not nearly enough. With no choice left, I packed up my things, hugged J goodbye, and moved out of my dorm in North Georgia, back into my parents’ house in South Florida.

My only friends were now 700 miles away.

My parents’ verbal/emotional abuse escalated. I was being called a b***h and a c**t. I had a hairbrush thrown at me. I was being pushed into anxiety attacks. I made the decision, that I needed to either get out of that house, or die.

(Ok, now here’s where it gets awesome.)

Could I really just get up and leave?? I wondered. Where would I go?? Where would I be left standing, in the aftermath?

And then, a phrase popped into my head, that I hadn’t heard in years: The aftermath is secondary.

I rewatched the Danger Days music videos, sitting there in my childhood bedroom, and, as silly as it sounds, it gave me the courage to go through with my plan.

I started calling relatives. Two aunts and a cousin, basically told me, Sorry, can’t help you. We don’t want to be involved in whatever fight y’all are having.

Growing increasingly desperate, I called my half-sibling....who I had only found out existed, a year prior. (That story could easily be it’s own post....but the short version? One of my parents had a child while still in school. Unable to care for the baby, they quietly arranged a closed adoption, and then kept the child’s existence a secret for the next thirty-five years. I was raised as an only child and only learned the truth when I was twenty years old. My brother, and his adoptive parents, had actually been living not far from us, the whole time....)

Even though he, truthfully, barely knew me, my half-brother answered my call. He began driving to my town, to come and get me.

I packed four shirts, four pairs of pants, a toothbrush, my CD player, and my CD collection, into an overnight bag. I understood that I was about to lose everything else that I owned. When I told my parents I was leaving, they grabbed and confiscated my laptop and my phone.

“We won’t let you leave with them! We paid for them, so they’re ours!”

I wasn’t scared. I had J’s phone number written in pen on my arm. I could call her from my brother’s phone later and tell her I was alive.

My folks tried other tactics to scare me into changing my mind:

“I’ll break your brother’s legs with a baseball bat if he steps on my property!”

“We’ll tell the hospital you’re having a psychotic break. Legally, they can hold you against your will for up to three days. So you won’t be able to leave town.”

I knew I wasn’t having an episode. I was calm. I knew what I was doing.

“We’ll call the police and have your brother arrested for trespassing.”

I called my brother, and told him about the last one.

“A lesson, little sister: he who calls the cops first, wins.”

Next thing I knew, a police officer was on my doorstep, to do a “wellness check”. The man was savvy, and asked me if I would like to speak to him on the porch - alone.

“Ma’am, do you want to be here?”

“No. My brother is going to pick me up. They’re going to tell you that he’s breaking in to the house but it’s not true. Please don’t arrest him.”

“Ma’am, I understand. I want you to know, you’re a legal adult, so if you don’t want to be here, and they use force to prevent you from leaving, that’s kidnapping.”

I contemplated these words, as I watched the cop car drive away. An hour later, I was sitting on the front porch with my suitcase, scanning the horizon for my brother’s car.

I lived in a gated community. In one last attempt to keep me from leaving, my parents had called the gatehouse, and told the security guard, not to let my brother into the subdivision.

My brother had already spoken to the cops a few times that day. So he called them again. After a tense, 45 minute discussion between Neighborhood Security and the Lee County PD, my brother was allowed through the gate.

A cop car followed my brother’s car to the city limits, to make sure that my parents didn’t try to pursue and drag me back.

I blasted “Bulletproof Heart” as I flipped off the “You Are Now Leaving [Town]” sign. I never saw that place again.

[sheikah]

Close Quarters

This is the first bit of a fic that I intended to be for @annabelleebythesea back in December (hence the winter and Christmas setting haha) but couldn’t finish in time. It’s still only halfway done, but I’ve decided to publish the first part so that it’ll hopefully motivate me to finish the rest later :) This is unbeta’d and just for fun. Enjoy! Read below or on AO3.

“Think of it as … professional development.” Olenna Tyrell smiled blithely as the room erupted with protests. It was one thing to ask faculty to attend an in-service meeting before the Christmas holiday, but quite another to force them up the mountains for a team-building retreat. Even Dany, ordinarily agreeable and understanding when it came to Olenna’s stringent policies, couldn’t help feeling a little mutinous at the idea.

“And just what professional qualities will we be developing while holed up in your time share, Principal Tyrell?” Cersei Lannister’s dislike for their principal was well-known, and as the drama teacher she was, expectedly, outspoken and a little theatrical.

For once, Dany found herself in agreement with Cersei, however impertinent her question. She couldn’t see the logic in a faculty ski trip.  

True, Dany was somewhat new to White Harbor and its flagship secondary school, Winterfell High. She was in her second year of employment teaching history and had yet to establish many lasting friendships among her fellow teachers. But that was alright. Friends and colleagues weren’t a part of her classroom, and she managed quite well in the instruction of her classes on her own. No snowy excursions or forced mingling with other faculty were going to improve her rapport with her students.

But unlike many of the outraged teachers in the room Dany lacked a valid excuse for avoiding a holiday getaway. She had no family waiting back home for a visit, no children of her own to look after. In all likelihood she would spend the entire holiday break at home with her three cats were it not for this trip. A lonely prospect, but not enough to stoke her interest in the retreat.

To her right, Tyrion Lannister, resident wine-sodden English teacher, shifted restlessly in his seat, a sardonic grin forming on his lips.

“I hear the luge is all the rage on the conference circuit this semester. Excellent way to build your CV.” There was a scatter of chuckles from among the gathered faculty, though Cersei, Tyrion’s elder sister, seemed less than amused.

Principal Tyrell merely stared at Tyrion without a flicker of warmth until the room fell silent again.

“If you ever bothered to attend a conference, instead of spending your weekends at the pub, you’d understand the importance of networking with others in your field, Mr. Lannister,” she returned coolly.

Tyrion sat up a little straighter at the jab, but offered no argument.

“That’s all very well,” Cersei pressed, forcing a strained smile. “But we’re not in one another’s fields, are we? Missandei is fluent in languages I’ve never heard of, but she can’t teach Mr. Snow’s students trigonometry. Neither of them can direct a full theatrical production. Our work is different. Each of us, every day, has a different approach to what we do. And sending us all into the mountains for some juvenile bonding ritual is no way to improve our test scores.”

“What do you care about test scores?” Sansa Stark demanded from the next row over. “You’re the theater teacher.”

“You’re one to talk. As if home ec is really setting our girls up for success on the SAT,” Cersei sneered.

“It’s not just about that. A trip like this, we might all get to know each other.” Sansa offered Olenna an angelic smile. If nothing else, she was better at faking it than the rest of them.

“Yes,” agreed Oberyn Martell, eyebrows wagging suggestively. “I think we could stand getting to know another better.”

Dany sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at them both. Sansa was the home economics teacher and a nice girl from what little Dany knew of her, if a bit of a brownnose. But her support of Olenna’s silly trip felt like treachery to the rest of them. And as for Oberyn, the always-inappropriate gym coach? He was just eager for an excuse to carouse with his colleagues

“It’s about communication,” Olenna insisted. “Look at you all! You’re riotous at the prospect of a paid holiday simply because it involves interaction with one another. You need each other. To discuss learning trends, problems across disciplines, classroom management styles, conflict resolution, conduct issues, ideas for student engagement. You’re almost as detached as our phone-obsessed teenagers! But we need to work together, to improve our learning environment, student completion, and, evidently, faculty morale.”

A scoff sounded behind her and Dany turned to find the aforementioned Mr. Snow glowering as usual. Jon was the resident math teacher. He was young, like Dany, and the students loved him. She couldn’t imagine why.

“Something to add, Mr. Snow?” Dany asked, turning in her seat to fix him with her lilac stare. There was a flash of surprise in his eyes when they found hers, but it was gone just as quickly.

“Of course not, Ms. Targaryen.” There was ice in his reply, a promise of more and unkinder words left unspoken. Typical.

Olenna passed a curious glance between the two of them before nodding with finality.

“Good. With that settled you’ll all receive the details of your itinerary through your faculty email. The only thing left to decide on is transportation arrangements.”

“Transportation?” Tyrion asked. “Won’t we all just pile merrily into one of those yellow deathtraps the students are lucky enough to ride in every day?”

Olenna’s glare was enough to make even Dany flinch.

“Our school busses are very safe, Mr. Lannister, I assure you. The incident last year had nothing to do with the integrity of the vehicle. Mr. Dondarrion didn’t see the oncoming vehicle in time on account of his … impaired sight.”

Tyrion only blinked at Olenna, his smile never wavering. It took all of Dany’s self-control not to erupt into laughter at his side.

“For the gods’ sake, can we end this meeting? What transportation are you providing, Principal Tyrell?” Cersei demanded, already standing to leave.

“None.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” Olenna answered calmly. “None. While our busses are more than safe for their intended purposes they aren’t rated for ascent to high elevations, especially in the winter months. No. You’ll need to take your own vehicles. We’ll pay for your mileage, of course, but we’re only budgeted for three reimbursements, so you’ll need to carpool.”

A synchronized groan rose all around the room, but Dany was silent, panic overtaking her at this latest development. She hadn’t considered the possibility that she might need to drive herself, much less any others. She wasn’t used to driving here, to the snow-laden roads and their treacherous slickness. Back home, she could count on one hand the number of times the roads had frozen over. Her city wasn’t prepared for it. Why bother? That far South, it simply wasn’t cold enough. So any time the conditions didn’t favor driving, businesses simply closed, the citizens bundled up safely in their homes until the streets were passable again.

Since the move to White Harbor Dany had used a rideshare service to get to work when the weather was poor, always telling herself that she’d learn how to drive in the snow eventually, when she was ready. Just not yet.

Apparently she’d have to teach herself over the next two days. That, or hope she was lucky enough not to be chosen to ferry the others up the mountain in her car.

“Cersei,” Olenna said, interrupting her reverie. She squinted down at a notebook that lay open on the podium before her. “You’ll drive up first, being that you’ve got no after-school engagements on Friday. Based on their schedules, it looks like you can take Sansa and Missandei with you.”

Cersei swore under her breath but nodded, Sansa looking more than a little disappointed behind her. In front of Dany, Missandei turned in her seat, a grimace of dismay on her pretty face.

“Fuck me,” she mouthed, shaking her head. No one in their right mind would want to ride up with Cersei. Dany couldn’t help sympathizing her with her friend. She indulged in a bit of pity for herself, too. She’d hoped that if nothing else, she and Missandei would at least ride together.

“Samwell,” Olenna continued, still eyeing the schedule carefully. “You’ll also leave Friday afternoon, with Oberyn, Tyrion, and my granddaughter.” This time Dany couldn’t suppress her snort of amusement. Of all the employees at Winterfell High, Samwell Tarly was the most tightly wound and by-the-book. He was a nervous man, always wary of disgruntled students and overbearing parents. How the timid librarian was going to survive a weekend away with the likes of Oberyn and Tyrion ribbing him was beyond her. At least Olenna’s lovely granddaughter, Margaery, would be there. She was kind but firm, the students’ best-loved counselor. With her around, the men wouldn’t be too hard on Sam.

Looking around the room, Dany realized with horror that this left only three people unassigned: herself, Davos Seaworth, the aging guidance counselor, and Jon Snow.

“Mr. Seaworth is out with the flu,” Olenna reported, finally looking up from her schedule. “So that leaves …  Ms. Targaryen, you have the honors’ society meeting Friday evening. And Mr. Snow, you’ve got fencing practice. That means the two of you will have to ride together, leaving Friday night.”

No.

Dany opened her mouth to protest but Olenna spoke first, her eyes suddenly glued to the ornate gold watch on her wrist.

“We’ll adjourn now. Much to do. Look for more information in your emails.” With that, the principal bustled out of the room in a sweep of her dark green skirt, leaving the rest of them grumbling in her wake.

“I can’t believe this,” Dany muttered, meeting Missandei’s pitying gaze. “I can’t ride up with Jon.”

She turned hesitantly to see if he was still behind her, wondering if she should approach him first to make a plan, explain that she couldn’t drive. But he was already gone, the desk he’d been sitting at vacant.

“What is it with the two of you anyway?” Tyrion asked, quirking a brow at her as they filed out of the room with the others.

“What do mean? Nothing.” Dany paused, staring down to fiddle at a hangnail on her thumb as she scrambled for the right words, determinedly avoiding Missandei’s knowing look. “I don’t like him is all. I’d think even you could understand that. He isn’t the friendly sort.”

The lie was easy, natural so that she almost believed it herself. The truth was less simple, and dodging it now only brought the memories back with staggering force.

It had been almost a year since the office Christmas party. Dany had only been teaching at Winterfell for three months back then, still learning the ropes, still getting to know its colorful cast of faculty and staff

She and Missandei had been fast friends. They were close in age, hired at the same time, and Dany’s interest in world history paired well with Missandei’s knowledge of various languages and cultures. They often planned joint projects in their classes together, had dinner on the weekends, and spent lazy evenings at one another’s apartments grading papers and splitting a bottle of wine.

Dany’s friendship with Tyrion was less conventional. He’d been dubbed her “new faculty mentor,” a job he approached with dry humor and no real advice. But the arrangement had paired them together at various work functions until she had developed a grudging affection for the sardonic older man.

Dany was grateful for her newfound friends, and for the most part she was happy with her colleagues at Winterfell; but even then, Jon Snow had found his way under her skin. He was quiet and withdrawn in the lounge, his nose always in a book, earbuds in place to block out any chance at the distraction of conversation. He taught math, she knew, but he was usually reading fiction instead of working through equations. Adventure thrillers and fantasy epics.

Every day he brought a healthy lunch from home, and he was almost always early through the door in the morning because he came to work straight from the gym. His dark-colored dress shirts fit well enough to show the sturdy build of his arms and shoulders. At least his hard work was paying off.

Outside his classroom he never talked to anyone save his best friend, Sam, and the occasional chat with Tyrion for a book recommendation. Even his cousin, Sansa, seemed to prefer Margaery to the company of the seemingly cold Jon. So Mr. Snow was a man of rigid discipline and few words, but Dany liked nothing more than a hopeless cause.

It didn’t help matters that she frequently looked up from her morning coffee in the lounge to find him watching her silently from his seat across the room. The moment she caught him looking he’d quickly drop his gaze back to the book in his lap. Ordinarily it would have annoyed her to be stared at, but Jon’s attention was a little flattering. He was handsome, with a fine, bearded jaw and big brown eyes framed by Warby Parker wayfarers. Yet despite his frequent glances her way, they’d never spoken past the obligatory introduction in her first week.

Jon’s withdrawn behavior would’ve been sufficient to catch her attention on its own. Dany had a history of involvement with inappropriate or unavailable men, after all. Her catastrophic breakup with Drogo would have been reason enough to move across the country, even without the job offer at Winterfell. So Dany had been ready to write Jon off as another case of her inconvenient attraction to, for lack of a better word, assholes.

But then she’d seen Jon teaching. She’d happened by his classroom on the way to the lounge during her free period, and the little rectangular window into his room framed a portrait of an entirely different man.

He was animated and energetic, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his elbows as he moved from one corner of the board to the next, scrawling out numbers and graphs and turning to his students with a smile so dazzling it stopped her in her tracks. Who got that excited about algebra?

Maybe he wasn’t the office grump after all, just a man who didn’t much care for idle small talk and forced pleasantries. Dany could respect that. She wasn’t exactly a social butterfly herself, and being the new girl in a small town like White Harbor was a lonely business. A part of her wanted to fix that.

So she’d gotten absurdly dolled up for the office Christmas party that year, barely zipping herself into a sequined red cocktail dress and using the occasion to break in a pair of her highest heels, shiny black patent leather.

The party was held off-campus so that they could all indulge in the booze they so desperately needed around the holidays. The school’s hospitality fund had gone toward an open tab at the sports bar off Main Street, Tyrion’s favorite weekend haunt.

The place had been spruced up for Christmas, string lights along the bar, red and green window paint near the entrance broadcasting season’s greetings to the passersby. The tables had been pushed back or removed to make space for a crude dance floor, and music was blasting through the sound system at a near-deafening volume.

Dany could feel the bass in her bones, a humming vibration that excited her. It’d been too long since she’d had any real fun or done anything for herself. She was always so focused—working toward her next career goal, learning new ways to approach her students. That night was supposed to be different.

Things started off well enough. She slid up on the barstool next to Tyrion, already a few beers in and chatting up the bartender.

“Targaryen!” he’d greeted her enthusiastically before sweeping his eyes over her dress. “You look like an HR violation waiting to happen.”

Dany snorted, shaking her head demurely. That was good. She hadn’t worn a skin-tight, sparkly dress to blend into the background. But it wasn’t Tyrion’s admiration she was after.

“Put her first drink on me,” he instructed the bartender, throwing a friendly nod Dany’s way.

“Thanks. Vodka soda, please. With a twist.”

Tyrion frowned at her drink order.

“And two shots of whiskey straight up,” he added, winking at Dany’s surprise.

“Tyrion, no,” she protested quickly. “That’s too much, I—”

“Not to worry,” he sang out with a grin. “It’s not for me. One for you, and one to quiet down this insufferable chatterbox to my left.”

“Who?” she wondered aloud. Tyrion just patted the bartop twice in parting and slipped easily from his seat and onto the floor. On the other side of his now-empty stool sat Jon Snow. His expression was one of confusion to match Dany’s own as Tyrion picked up his drink and backed away from them.“

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he warned, and with a wink, he disappeared into the crowd.

Dany scoffed before turning back to Jon. He looked smart in a slim cut black suit. He wore black a lot, she’d noticed. Black like his hair. He had nice hair.

“Hi,” she offered simply. The greeting came out in an awkward sort of yell to be heard over the music and the dead space of the empty seat between them.

“Uh, yeah. Hey,” Jon returned. She saw his gaze dip to take in her outfit, the plunge of her neckline. He swallowed with a bob of his Adam’s apple before dragging his eyes back to hers.

A clink of glass against the bar signaled the arrival of the shots and Dany eyed them apprehensively. She didn’t drink nearly often enough to be comfortable shooting whiskey. But she’d resolved to have fun tonight. To relax. And with this night marking the beginning of a week’s holiday break from work, she didn’t have any reason to be up early the next day.

“We don’t have to—I mean, you don’t have to take it. Tyrion is just—he’s pushy. But you don’t have to drink that,” Jon assured her, leaning across the stool to be heard over the noise of the bar.

That’s more words than you’ve ever said to me, Dany thought, a smile tugging at her red-lacquered lips.

“I know,” she said, taking the shots in hand. She held one out to Jon with a nod of encouragement. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Snow.”

Jon stared at her hand for a moment of indecision before accepting the proffered whiskey.

“Merry Christmas, Daenerys.”

“You can call me Dany,” she offered. “My friends call me Dany.”

They toasted with a clink of their glasses that sloshed some of the liquid onto Dany’s fingers before she brought it to her mouth and downed it one gulp. It was strong and bitter on her tongue, burning all the way down her throat, and Dany had to fight the urge to gag from the taste. She’d never been one for hard liquor.

Jon appeared totally unaffected, swallowing it without the merest wince of discomfort. He looked up just as Dany was sucking the spilled, sticky drops off her skin, eyes rivetted to the sight of her finger between her lips. He shifted in his seat before turning back to the bar.

Dany sighed, taking the vodka soda Tyrion had bought for her from the bartop and sipping it to dispel the lingering flavor of the whiskey. She could see Jon fidgeting out of the corner of her eye, nursing a pint of some draught. The empty seat between them felt like a canyon. She wanted him to scoot over and sit by her. Strike up conversation. Something.

But he didn’t. Instead he traced a fingertip idly through the frost of condensation on his beer glass, determinedly keeping his eyes straight ahead. Apparently, he was done talking.

Dany pressed her lips together in irritation, her stare boring into the side of his head. She wasn’t used to this, to having to be the pursuer. In any other circumstance she would be the one rebuffing a man’s advances.

She polished off her whole drink waiting for him to make a move. And then another. It was a lot for someone her size. Even more for someone who drank as seldom as she. But Jon’s silence was maddening enough to keep her going, anything for a distraction from the awkward tension that hung palpably between them.

It was tempting to abandon him altogether and join the crowd on the dancefloor. Dany had already spied Missandei in a sleek black cocktail dress, dancing close with her boyfriend Grey. They looked happy. And she knew that somewhere out there Tyrion was several whiskies deep and engaged in some drunken philosophical discourse with an unwilling participant. Most likely Samwell Tarly. That’d be something to watch.

But she was too curious about Jon to leave things as they were. This was the closest they’d gotten to a real conversation. She’d seen him all those times in the lounge at work, even in faculty meetings. He stared at her. That meant he was attracted to her, didn’t it? So what was he waiting for?

Missandei bellied up to the bar next to her, giggling helplessly, Grey in tow.

“Dany!” she greeted her, patting her a little too hard on the back before ordering another glass of wine.

“Why aren’t you dancing?”

“Wrong shoes for it,” she fibbed, shrugging. “Enjoying the party?”

“Very much,” Missandei confirmed. Grey only smiled. He didn’t speak much English, which was just as well since Missandei was an expert in his native Valyrian tongue.

When her wine was delivered Missandei raised it to Dany, who toasted her with a clink of her own glass.

“Merry Christmas, Dany.”

“Merry Christmas,” she returned brightly. Missandei’s jovial spirit was infectious, even as she peered over Dany’s shoulder, no-doubt eyeing her sulking neighbor. She raised a brown questioningly at Dany before taking another sip of her wine.

“See you out there then?”

“Maybe later,” Dany replied, hoping it was true. She had to admit that it looked like a lot more fun than her current occupation.

When the couple had gone, she turned back to Jon with a sigh loud enough to be heard even over the boom of the music.

“So,” she began, scooting toward him and onto the empty barstool at last. “What’s your problem?”

His face hardened instantly, posture going rigid.

“Excuse me?”

She was being rude. She knew that much, but the heady combination of liquid courage coursing through her veins and the weeks of compounded curiosity about this man spurred her on anyway.

“Why did you come here if you’re only going to sit there pouting?”

“I’m not pouting. I’m having a pint at a bar. What else would you have me do?”

“I don’t know, dance.”

He scoffed, shaking his head.

“I don’t dance.”

Dany rolled her eyes, sucking at her straw as it rattled loudly in her empty glass.

“Another one, please,” she called, raising her drink in the air to call the bartender over their way.

“You might want to slow down,” Jon cautioned. “You’ve been putting those away pretty fast all night.”

“So you’ve been watching me ‘all night,’ but couldn’t bother saying a word?” Jon shrunk back, clearly uncomfortable. Good, Dany thought. At least he can feel something.

When her drink arrived she took it at once, defiantly holding Jon’s gaze as she brought the straw to her lips and took a deep drink. The nerve of him, really, telling her she ought to slow down. He made no further protests, though, and Dany could feel his eyes on her mouth as she drank.

“So you don’t dance,” she noted. “And you don’t talk.”

“I never said I didn’t talk,” he fired back.

“But you haven’t.”

“Well, neither have you!”

Fair enough. She swallowed, trying to find a suitable response. He was right, of course. But she’d left the door open for conversation, hadn’t she? She’d told him her nickname, she’d taken the gods-damned shot of whiskey. The ball had been in his court, then, and he’d let it roll right past him. For an hour.

“Fine,” she relented finally. “We’re talking now. So, um. Why did you come here tonight, anyway? This doesn’t really seem like your scene.”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing myself,” he answered, swishing his drink idly in his hand. “This isn’t exactly going how I’d thought it would.”

Interesting.

“How did you think it would go?”

His hand stilled around his glass, his eyes finding hers. There was something in them that sucked the air right out of her, something serious and suggestive. Maybe she was right, after all. Maybe he did want her.

“I, ah.” Jon cleared his throat. “I don’t know. I thought for sure Tyrion would’ve been kicked out by now.”

She giggled at his unexpected humor, nearly toppling from her precarious seat on the stool. “Maybe he has,” she pointed out, shrugging. “Haven’t seen him in awhile, have we?”

Jon smiled at that—a handsome, disarming smile. It put her at ease to see it, to be reminded that under his coarse exterior was the kind man she’d seen in the classroom before.

“So when you aren’t sitting at bars avoiding dancing and talking,” she teased. “What do you do for fun?”

He shrugged. “I like training, exercise. I run and hike with my dog. I do a bit of reading. And I’m a fencing instructor.”

Dany snorted, inhaling a burning swig of her vodka soda and coughing to clear it. Her eyes teared from the choking sensation, but even through the blur she could see Jon’s scowl.

“Fencing?” she asked, gasping for breath. “Fencing?”

“Aye, fencing,” he answered, bristling. “What of it?”

“You’re—you’re a nerd, Jon Snow,” she announced, his obvious grumpiness only adding to her amusement. She tried to imagine it, Jon in one of those little white practice suits she’d seen in the movies, face hidden behind a mesh mask, curls stuffed under a helmet, sword-fighting like they were in some period drama. Being a history nerd herself she could appreciate the hobby, but it didn’t make the idea of the surly Jon prancing his way through fencing footwork any less hilarious.

“A ‘nerd?’ Gods, what are you, ten?” he demanded, crossing his arms.

“You’re a fencing math teacher. Face it.”

“Fencing is a noble craft, an art-form dating back centuries. You ought to know, history expert and all.”

“Still a nerd,” she grinned.

“I’m not,” he insisted, but she could see the beginnings of a smile on his lips.

“Alright, if you’re not a nerd, then prove it. A nerd wouldn’t dance with me,” she challenged playfully. “Come on, prove me wrong.”

He blinked at her, slowly uncrossing his arms.

“Fine,” he agreed, shrugging out of his jacket. He stood up and held out a hand, refusing to meet her eyes. “One song.”

Dany’s lips curled upward in a sultry grin, excitement thrumming through her. She wanted him. More than she’d thought she would, and the prospect of dancing with him had her body bursting with anxious energy. She took a final sip of her drink before setting it on the bartop next to her clutch and accepting Jon’s hand.

It was warm, warm and rough and big. He laced his fingers through hers and then turned away leading her through the press of bar patrons and out to the dancefloor.

The crowd had somewhat thinned from earlier that night, though Missandei and Grey were still going; Margaery and Sansa, too, laughing breathlessly and stumbling about. Dany didn’t really see anyone else she recognized among the dancers, though it was hard to tell in the semi-darkness.

The music was even louder here, the tall speakers abutting the crude wooden dancefloor. It was typical club fare, lots of bass, energetic beat. Ordinarily it wasn’t Dany’s type of music, but tonight she couldn’t have chosen anything better. When Jon turned to face her she saw uncertainty and nervousness etched into his features, but when she guided his hands to her hips they felt natural enough, and soon they were swaying and stepping in time with the song.

It didn’t take long for them to slip into an easy rhythm. The music pounded out louder than her own pulse in her ears, the dark of the bar casting everything in a haze of smoke and laughter. Dany was just drunk enough to be fearless and free. She didn’t even notice when she stepped out of turn, or the pain in her feet from her ill-advised stilettos. Everything blurred together into sensation and instinct.

It had been awhile, but Dany had loved dancing and clubbing with her friends back home. Even so, dancing with a man was different. She’d always seen it as a test of chemistry, rhythm and compatibility made physical. If that was true, Jon was passing the test with flying colors, holding her temptingly close one moment and spinning her out with an effortless flow in the next. Dany found herself returning the flash of his smile peeping out at her in the dark. He was good.

“I thought you couldn’t dance!”

“I never said I couldn’t,” he shouted back over the music, lifting her abruptly out of a dip, her hair whipping in the air. “I said I didn’t.”

For a heated moment they stood, breathing heavily from the dance, her face inches from his.

“I’m glad you changed your mind.”

The song ended on an instant of silence, their panting breaths suddenly deafening in her ears. Dany tried to hide her disappointment. It was over too quickly. Jon’s closeness, the grip of his hands and the dizzy excitement of moving with him on the dancefloor had only served to make her want him more. A tease. But despite his earlier “one song” declaration, when the next song filled the room with sound, he didn’t let her go.

Instead, he twirled her around in his arms, plastering her body to his and splaying his palms over her hips to hold her against him. She gasped, covering his hands with her own and relaxing into his hold. The song was slower than the first, and she writhed against Jon in time with the beat, her ass pressing at his hips.

She fell into something like a trance. All their prior hesitance melted away into a delicious euphoria as she danced shamelessly in Jon’s arms, breathing in the spice of his cologne, relishing in the heat of his palms through her dress, his breath at her ear and on her neck as they moved together. The second song blended into a third, and then a fourth, and soon Dany stopped counting. She felt wild and desirable, sweating from exertion, hair a mess and skin flushed. Jon was everywhere, all lingering touches and breathy exhales, his body moving sinuously with hers.

It felt filthy to dance with him this way, especially at a work function of all things. But Dany found it hard to care about prying eyes with Jon’s hands sliding up from her waist, the pronounced feel of what she knew to be his erection throbbing at her backside.

For months she’d done nothing more than steal a glance across the staff lounge, pass in the hall close enough to brush his shoulder. Every moment had made her ache with some unsatisfied need. To be so close now, finally, was enough to make her wet with anticipation. The palpable attraction between them, the reciprocal, fluid sync of their movement went beyond anything she’d ever expected.

Jon’s quiet reserve had intrigued her before, but she’d never dreamt it was masking this—that underneath his careful exterior he was so passionate and uninhibited. It was like her touch had flipped a switch, lit a fire, burning his mask away to reveal a wolf in a man’s clothing. Yes—a wolf, and she wanted nothing so much as to be devoured.

Dany could feel her dress riding up almost to her hips as she danced, grinding back on Jon with his leg shoved up between hers. Every touch was like a promise of what could be if only they weren’t in public, if only they were alone.

She lifted her hands to feel for him behind her, grabbing blindly for his face, her fingers raking through his short beard. His palm was hot on her throat, guiding her head back until it rested at his shoulder, angling her face to his.

All at once the music crescendoed and Dany crushed their mouths together, grateful then for the towering heels that gave her height enough to match him. The kiss was rough and frantic, charged with all the building fervor from their dance. His lips were soft but unyielding, his beard scraping roughly at her mouth as he opened his lips to kiss her deeply. She met the hot slick of his tongue with her own, tasting the faint tang of his beer, the cool of some minty gum.

Jon dropped a hand from her jaw down lower to traverse the décolletage over her dress, then lower still, scandalously low. She moaned into his open mouth as he all but groped her through the fabric. She hadn’t worn a bra with the strapless dress, leaving nothing but the thin, sequined fabric between the flesh of his palm and the aching sensitivity of her nipple.

It was getting to be too much, too intimate, and even her booze-drenched awareness knew how wildly inappropriate it was, how mortified she’d be if their colleagues noticed what was happening. But it was only when Jon pulled back, gasping, that she had the clarity of mind to act.

She turned around in Jon’s arms to face him properly, still breathless from the kiss. She stood, drinking in the sight of him. His eyes were lidded and dazed, lips wet and kiss-swollen. Her lipstick was smeared all over his face. It only made her want him more, like she’d marked him, like he was hers—no longer that untouchable-hot-guy from work but the very-fuckable-hot-guy who’d all but dry humped her on the dancefloor.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” she breathed, leaning in to speak at the shell of his ear.

“Okay.”

Dany took his hand and marched him off the dancefloor, navigating through the throng of people and back to their former places at the bar. In a daze she collected her purse and settled up her bar tab, staring at her reflection in the huge mirror that spread across the wall behind the bar. She looked strange and unfamiliar, her eyes ringed in dark, smudging makeup, hair sticking to her damp skin, cheeks flaming.

This was completely mad. She was a schoolteacher. A sensible and responsible woman. She didn’t go out to clubs picking up men, especially not men she’d have to confront in the staff lounge at work after the fact.

She was wrenched from her thoughts when Jon came up behind her. He was back in his suit jacket, looking at least a little more put-together than she did. She noted with some satisfaction that there were still faint splotches of pink coloring his face from her lipstick. His arms wound around her waist and he pressed a kiss to her shoulder before meeting her gaze in the mirror. “Ready to go, gorgeous?”

Dany’s heart thumped double-time at the possessive wrap of his embrace, the hint of mischief in his voice. How could she say no?

At her eager nod of assent Jon helped her into her coat and then guided her through the throng and out the door. When the brisk chill of the night air hit them on the sidewalk he pulled her in close, enveloping her in warmth. Dany let out a breath, nestling against his chest

“I didn’t drive here,” she murmured.

“Me neither.” Jon fished in his pocket for his phone, still shielding her between his arms as his thumbs tapped the screen rapidly, calling an Uber.

“My place or yours?” she whispered, stifling a giggle at the cliché. She could hardly believe it even now. She wasn’t one for one-night stands or going home with a guy on the first date. But she couldn’t stomach facing the silent loneliness of her cold apartment. Not tonight. And while Dany wanted to blame it on the vodka sodas, it was more than lust or loneliness that drew her to Jon. She liked him. She’d never been good at any of this, but he made it easy, natural.

“Uh—what’s your address?”

Dany spun in his arms, wriggling his phone out of his grip to type in her address. It took a few attempts, her fingers clumsy and unwieldy from the booze.

“Let me—” Jon began, noting her difficulty.

“I’ve got it,” she insisted, shrugging him off. After two more tries she finally spelled her street name correctly, confirming their ride. “Hope you like cats, Jon Snow,” she said with a grin, returning his phone to his pocket.

He smiled, nodding, but there was something off in his eyes. He looked distracted. Different. Dany opened her mouth to ask what was wrong but thought better of it when their ride arrived. The driver shot them an impatient glare and Jon dropped his arms from her sides, moving to get the door.

At Jon’s invitation Dany got in first, sliding across the back seat to make room for him beside her. When he didn’t follow she leaned over to peer up at him where he stood framed in the car doorway, a hand on the hood. He was looking down at her with an inscrutable expression that made her stomach drop.

“Be safe tonight, okay?”

“What? What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” Jon mumbled, his dark eyes shifting away.

“What do you mean? Jon, get in,” she said, hating the pleading tone that entered her voice. “Don’t do this.”

“Good night, Dany.”

He pushed away from the car, shutting the door hard and stepping back off the curb. Dany gaped at him, scooting hurriedly toward the window and fumbling with the controls to lower it, but the car pulled away before she could.

Pressing her face to the cold glass she could just make out Jon’s shrinking form. He remained on the sidewalk, watching the retreating vehicle until they were out of sight. Even then, she couldn’t help noting how handsome he looked—hair tousled in the breeze, hands jammed in the pockets of his well-tailored slacks.

Asshole, she thought bitterly.

That night the alcohol was enough to soothe her to sleep in spite of her wounded pride and infuriating lust. But the rest of her week’s holiday from classes gave her ample time to nurse a healthy rage at and loathing for Jon. It was cruel of him, teasing her that way, touching her that way, kissing her that way, only to send her home without so much as an explanation. In her darker moments she blamed herself. She should have known better, really. He couldn’t have truly wanted her. If he had, he wouldn’t have been so cold and silent at work. In her experience, if a man was interested he made it known. Loudly and often. Why should Jon be any different?

He was different, though. Jon Snow was a snob, she’d decided. A snob and a tease. She tried to console herself with the notion that she’d dodged a bullet—clearly sleeping with him would have been a mistake of epic proportions. He’d done her a favor, really. If they’d gone through with it she’d be left with nothing but regret. Right?

When classes resumed the following week Dany did her best to act as though nothing had happened. Jon must have returned to the bar after their ill-fated encounter, because no one—not even Missandei—mentioned their leaving together. All conversation in the faculty lounge focused on Oberyn’s salacious dancing and Tyrion’s over-indulgence that led to him falling asleep on one of the newly-felted pool tables at the bar.

Dany was grateful for the gossip. She wanted nothing so much as to forget that night and the tumultuous emotions that had followed it. The alcohol had helped some. As it was, she could only remember the party in pieces, flashes.

The problem was that the images in her memory, jumbled as they were, were hot. Every time she thought of dancing close with Jon, the shameless snap of her hips, the moist heat of his breath on her neck, she had to squeeze her thighs together against the tingle of recognition, of desire. Despite her lingering anger her treacherous body wanted him still, which only made it more difficult when she saw him again.

He cornered her at the coffee pot, stepping in near enough that only she could hear.

“Dany,” he began, his voice a hurried whisper. “About last week. I—”

“Save it,” she cut him off, stepping away from his closeness, from the disorienting scent of his cologne, potent with memories. “And my name is Daenerys.”

There was a blink of pain in his eyes before his expression shuttered again. He left the break room in a huff.

If Dany was honest, she was desperate to hear his explanation. The unanswered questions and wondering what she’d done wrong were enough to keep her up at night. But her pride wouldn’t allow her to show it.

Thankfully, that morning was the only time Jon attempted to broach the subject, and from that day on he’d treated Dany with nothing but the same chilly civility she’d noted in him before the party.

Eventually she’d broken down and told Missandei what had happened, and her friend had been supportive and encouraging, repeating the oft-used “he doesn’t deserve you” refrain. Dany wanted to believe it, but Jon had been the one to reject her, and while there were no outward signs of what happened between them, a peculiar tension remained—a heat that made the air between them simmer with something vacillating between hatred and hunger.

So now, a year later, all those months of confusion about that night and her growing frustration at his stony demeanor coalesced into a bone-deep dread at the prospect of a weekend away in close quarters with Jon.

He’d left in such a hurry after Principal Tyrell’s meeting that they hadn’t had the opportunity to plan, which meant that sooner or later, one of them would have to initiate contact. The thought made Dany’s stomach turn.

Three days later it had become clear that Jon was leaving it up to her. Dany had been expecting him to approach her at work, drop by her classroom, find her at lunch. Anything. Instead he seemed to be avoiding her with more than his usual determination, so that by Thursday evening she still hadn’t seen him at all.

Dany was sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine, Drogon spread out on her lap, a stack of ungraded papers guilting her from the coffee table. All her bags for the were trip packed and ready to go for the following day. She couldn’t put it off any longer. She’d have to be the one to reach out to Jon.

She clicked open her phone, her thumb hovering over her contacts with mounting anxiety, when the ding of her text tone sounded out, startling a hiss from Drogon.

She snorted with laughter as the notification lit up her screen: “New message from Pompous Dickhead.” The entire faculty directory was synced into all their contacts through the school’s email app, so Dany had always had Jon’s number in her phone. But Missandei had taken the liberty of changing his record from ‘Mr. Snow’ to the delightfully crude new moniker after Dany shared the story of their unfortunate Christmas party rendezvous. She’d never had occasion to contact him before or change it back. Maybe she never would.

After all, Missandei was a language expert. Who was Dany to question such an apt description of Jon’s character?

She opened the message with a smirk, her eyes scanning quickly over the brief text:

Pompous Dickhead: “Meet outside the back entrance tomorrow at 6. Be ready to get on the road. We’ll take your car.”

Dany shook her head, setting her glass down and thinking over how to reply. She couldn’t be the one to drive them up into the mountains. She wouldn’t. But she wasn’t about to admit fear or weakness to Jon.

“No. Let’s take yours. See you at 6.”

She sent the message with a shaky hand, dreading his response. She’d prefer not to lie, but if Jon pressed, she’d just say her car was in the shop. Anything was preferable to making herself vulnerable after the way he’d already hurt her pride.

The ellipses that signified Jon typing a response flickered into view, then disappeared. A moment’s pause and he was typing again. Dany bit her lip, anxiety prickling at her scalp. Maybe it’d be easier to just agree, to take her chances behind the wheel. At least if they wrecked she wouldn’t have to go on the stupid retreat.

But then his reply finally came.

Pompous Dickhead: “Fine.”

Rude, but at least he was consistent. Dany sighed. This was going to be a long weekend.

[quillreflections]

Title: Electric Blue

Chapter: 9

Series: Yugioh GX

Pairing: Chazz/reader

disclaimer: written for Christmas, I’m just posting here late

Are you hiding, somewhere behind those eyes?

With the exception of a few unlucky students and staff, the island was empty. Chazz Princeton was one of those exceptions.

He stood in front of the quiet duel building, glaring up at the cloud-covered sky as he buried his chapped hands deep in his uniform coat's pockets. "Too damn cold," he muttered to himself, watching his breath curl out of his mouth and crystallize in the air, "but it's better'n Hell." He shuddered at the thought of spending the holidays with his family. An empty campus was much better.

He pulled his hands from his pockets only long enough to tighten his scarf before taking off at a trot. Not even the Blue cafeteria was open over the winter break- he was going to spend all December eating Slifer food.

Was going home really that bad-?

Chazz's gait slowed as he approached the cliffside buildings; partially because he really didn't want to be there, but also because someone else caught his eye.

Completely underdressed for the weather, you'd only pulled a thin long-sleeve shirt on under your normal, warm-weather uniform; your teeth were chattering so hard as you went for dinner, Chazz could hear them from yards away.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He bit out, his long legs easily falling into step alongside your quick strides. You didn't even flinch at his sudden appearance.

"H-heya, Chazz! I didn't think an island would get so cold, y'know?" You forced a laugh; it drifted from your mouth like steam, and Chazz frowned down at you. He grabbed at your arm, pulling you to a stop with him.

"You're such a fool," he fake-snarls, tugging his coat collar out from underneath his scarf, shrugging his uniform coat off entirely. "You're lucky I'm here, [Name]." He tried to look frustrated, but couldn't keep the note of warmth from creeping into his voice as he handed you his coat.

You stared at it for a moment. "Chazz, I can't just take your-"

"Take it or I'm leaving you here to freeze." He looked away from you, his face tinged slightly red. You giggled a bit before taking his coat and pulling it on; since he'd been wearing it for so long, it was already gorgeously warm, and you let out a long sigh as your chilled self began to thaw. When you inhaled, Chazz's cologne drifted over your senses, engraving itself into your memory.

Chazz snickered at your pleased face, deftly reaching out to button the coat up as you buried yourself further in it. Before he could pull away, you wrapped your arm around his, pressing yourself up against his side. You both began walking again.

"I didn't think you'd be this warm, Chazz."

"Y'know, hot-blooded. I'm just that incredible."

You laughed again. It wasn't much longer before you reached the Slifer Red cafeteria; Chazz pulled his arm from your grasp so he could hold the door open for you, and you caught him making a face at the dinner selection.

There were only a handful of people in the room; students of all colors, and the few lunch ladies that were being paid overtime to feed the kids. Chazz motioned you off to a table and went up to the counter on his own.

You settled in one of the rickety chairs, fiddling with the hem of Chazz's coat, occasionally burying your face in the tall collar and taking another deep breath. His cologne is tangy, and brings citrus to mind; you almost wish you could be enveloped even further in it.

When Chazz glances around the room to find where you'd sat, he can't help the heat rushing to his face at the sight of you in his clothing. He tries his best to stamp down his grin as he brings two trays over to the table.

"They said it's creamed beef, but. . ." his voice trails off as he sets a tray down in front of you and takes his own seat. Whatever's in your dish is certainly. . . interesting. Grimacing, you pile it onto your fork and take a brave bite. Chazz watches intently as you taste it- although his gaze wanders over you quite a bit- and eventually you smile grimly.

"It's edible, but we may wanna stop by the vending machines again." You shrug and take another bite. Chazz just glares into his bowl of gunk.

You eat quietly for awhile. The small, cramped mess hall is filled with the low murmurings of the other occupants; students who will be on campus until the next semester begins. Chazz's gaze flickers up from his dinner and over to you. He swallows nervously.

"So, you're not going home for the break?" He frowns at how his voice wavers.

You finish your bite and set your silverware down. "No- I'm happier here. You?"

He shakes his head. "My family's awful with the holidays. Ugh, my parents love to attend and throw these fake, uppity parties, and everyone drags me along; I have never been as uncomfortable as when they get me in a tux." He leans his chin in his hand, drumming his fork against the table with his other hand.

You snicker. "You have the figure for a tux, though!"

"Of course I do, have you seen the men in my family?" Chazz smirks. "This school's lucky it has uniforms, because if I could wear my regular clothes, I'd have women throwing themselves at me." Not that I want anyone else; he shakes the abrupt thought from his mind as his face heats up again.

Having finished your excuse of a meal, the two of you clean up quickly and delve back out into the cold, making your way across campus and to the vending machines like you'd suggested. The walk is a quiet one; Chazz keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his vision as you stride along next to him.

The frosted grass crunches underfoot; Chazz's coat is so big on you, the hem trails the ground, leaving a path behind you. At one point, his hand brushes against yours- you assume it was an accident, but he blushes and mumbles an apology anyways as he looks away.

You let out a sigh as you both step into the vending pavillion. It's shielded from the wind, and the machines are warm.

"So, waddaya want?" Chazz digs into his jean pockets for his wallet and steps up to his favorite machine. You watch him slide in the change and press the button for taiyaki; noting your gaze, he smiles and buys a second one, pulling them both from the drawer and handing one out to you.

"Thanks," you mutter around a hot bite of the pastry; he just grunts back at you, exhaling as his own food scalds his tongue.

In turn, you pay for a few of those good burgers, piling the boxes on one of the metal tables as you and Chazz both dig in. This is much better than whatever the cafeteria had called food.

"What does your family do for Christmas?" Your voice shatters the comfortable silence. Chazz looks up from among the foil and cardboard, chewing thoughtfully as he watches you.

"Well," he starts quietly, "my family may be kinda shitty, but they sure know how to celebrate." He takes another contemplative bite. "My mom used to make cookies. She'd always do it herself instead of handing it off to any hired help- that's what made 'em special. And when we were really little, my dad would read Christmas stories to us."

Chazz looked up from his food and off into the distance. His sharp face softened in the dying light. "My brothers and I would spend half the year making something for our parents; since they could buy anything, we wanted to give them something they'd never seen before. And we'd always decorate the tree together- we each got a new ornament every year." He suddenly bit into his burger again, chewing aggressively. "We haven't spent a Christmas together in years."

"Sorry, I-"

"Hey, what about your family?" He interrupts your attempted apology. You shrug.

"My family's tradition was always opening one gift on Christmas Eve." You smiled at the memory. "My extended family- us, aunts, uncles, cousins- would all take turns hosting a big dinner a few days beforehand, too. It's always been really nice; everyone brings unique foods, and gifts turned into such a mess-" Your smile falters a bit, though, and you nervously begin folding some spare foil. "But things have been tense for the last few years, even outside of my immediate family."

You delve back into your mountain of a meal, and the pair of you have polished off the pile of food in just a few more minutes. A quick clean up and you're back off in the direction of the dorms.

At your side, Chazz lets out a huff and rubs his arms; even in his thick shirt, he felt the cold eventually. He cupped his hands around his mouth and breathed on them, trying to get some heat back into his tingling fingers; when he went to shove his hands in his pockets, you didn't let yourself stop to think. You grabbed his one hand and intertwined your fingers before shoving your clasped hands into the pocket of his borrowed coat. Chazz looked at you, wide-eyed and red-faced, but you kept your gaze fixed straight ahead and kept marching. He squeezed your hand tightly.

It was quiet until you reached the point where your paths split. You slowly pulled your hands from your pockets, and Chazz had to catch himself before he whined at the loss of your hand in his. You shrugged his coat off and handed it to him with a smile.

"Thanks, Chazz! I'll see you later!" With that, you took off at a jog, trying to get to the girl's dorm before your blood iced over in your veins.

Chazz stood there alone in the dark.

☆☆☆

At the loss of another digital dueling round, your weary eyes wandered to the corner of the screen.

December 24th, 7 p.m.

You sighed heavily before looking out your dorm room window, although the sight of the snow didn't quite register; you hadn't heard from your family, but that wasn't much of a surprise. This was going to be your first Christmas alone.

You stood and stretched- you'd been playing your video games all day, so your body was getting tense from not moving much.

Someone knocked on your door. You paused in your quick exercises and moved to answer, briefly wondering who'd be here now.

"[Name]! A bit early, but merry Christmas!" Jaden grinned at you, practically bouncing on his toes, snow dusted over his shoulders and hair.

You smile back, although it's tinged in confusion. "Merry Christmas, Jaden! Um, how did you get into the girls dorm-"

"We don't have the time for that, [Name]; I was supposed to get you half an hour ago." Jaden grabs you by the hand and starts tugging you down the hallway, barely giving you time to shut and lock your door. "Hey, don't ask any questions, okay? You'll see in a moment."

Jaden has always been sweet despite his oddities, so you just let him propel you into the snowy night. The two of you break into a run across the freezing campus, Jaden leading you past the other dorms, the cafeterias, and all the way to one of the main lecture halls. He pulls you around to the side entrance of the building; when he raps on the cold steel side door, it swings open, and Syrus peeks out.

"It's about time, Jaden!" The smaller boy pouts as Jaden shoves you inside.

"Hey man, at least she's here now-"

"Syrus, Jay won't tell me anyth-"

"Come on, before Chazz throws a fit!"

Syrus grabs you by the other hand, and both boys lead you past all of the empty classrooms and offices. Before you know it, you've been hauled into an elevator, on your way to the top floor.

☆☆☆

Chazz lets out a shakey breath, running his hand down his face and looking around the room. Atticus stands proudly next to him.

Chazz nervously eyes the room. ". . . you're sure it's okay?" His voice is raspy and unsteady.

Atticus nods enthusiastically and pats Chazz on the shoulder. "She'll totally be happy! Don't worry, as long as you follow my advice, you'll win her hea-"

"Shut your mouth!" Chazz leans out of Atticus' reach, flailing and trying to hide his growing blush. "I'm just- just tryna cheer her up! There's nothing more to it!"

Alexis sighed as her brother continued teasing Chazz. She fluttered around the food table, rearranging the decorative plates. Across from her, Miss Dorothy was placing a new batch of cookies down; the older woman glanced at the bickering boys and smiled. Alexis caught her gaze and smiled back.

"Chazz is so obvious," she giggled.

"It's so cute," Dorothy nodded, "and I'm rooting for him." She watched Chazz fondly as he floundered.

At the sound of footsteps in the hallway, Chazz froze; his breath quickened, his heart slamming against his ribcage as the door slammed open.

Jaden shoved you into the room, laughing and grinning. "I got 'er, Chazz!" Syrus stumbled into the room after you, panting.

It was almost too much to comprehend at once; the room was typically a staff room, but had clearly been commandeered. A plastic Christmas tree had been set up in front of the large glass windows and decorated hastily; Alexis and Miss Dorothy stood in front of an adorable display of snacks, waving and smiling at you like they knew something you didn't; Atticus, with his arm tightly around Chazz's shoulders, waved at you as Jaden and Syrus rushed past to pester Zane, seated on the couch. Faint music echoed through the decorated room.

Chazz was pushed forward, stumbling to a stop in front of you, his face red even in the dim, atmospheric light. Suddenly and conveniently, all your friends have turned away and begun chattering, clinking plates and glasses, making as much noise as possible.

Chazz shoves his hands in his pockets and hesitantly looks at you. "Uh, merry Christmas, [Name]. You seemed kinda sad the other day, so I-" his voice faltered. When he finally met your eyes, he was mildly alarmed to see them brimming with tears despite your smile.

"You're the sweetest man I've ever met, Chazz." You wipe at your eyes and take a quick step forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist; Chazz stiffens under your touch, his calloused hands hovering over your smaller form as if he was afraid he'd break you.

Over your shoulder, your friends are waving frantically, making all sorts of faces, trying their damndest to get Chazz to respond in kind to you. Eventually Chazz's large, warm hands land on your back, and he pulls you up against his chest, burying his face in your neck. His breath is warm across your skin and you have to fight to suppress your shudder.

Eventually Chazz practically rockets out of your grip, his face almost glowing, it's such a bright red. Your friends- who had definitely stopped to stare- aggressively turned back to their distractions, giving Chazz more time with you. He awkwardly motions to the tree.

Perched among the plastic bristles is an envelope. Your name is scribbled across it in Chazz's sharp handwriting; he won't meet your eyes when you look back at him, so all you can do is pluck the envelope from the tree and open it carefully.

Inside sits a pair of tickets, laying on top of a printed sheet of paper. You glance back up at Chazz again. He shuffles awkwardly.

"I know it's kinda presumptuous, but I reserved some seats for us for dinner and a show over summer break." He shrugs. "I hope you'll still wanna-"

"Chazz," you break in, "of course I'll still want to see you over the summer! God, this is," you glance around the room again, your smile brightening even further. "This is so sweet of you. I really appreciate it. I wish I'd known, so I could do something for you too-"

Chazz shakes his head at you, his hand cautiously straying out to grab yours, intertwining your fingers and playing with them absently. "I like being able to do things like this for," his voice drops to a whisper and he steps so much closer, "someone so important to me."

He leans down slowly, eyes searching your face; you hold his gaze, stretching up on your toes to get closer.

Maybe it's the fact that you're not alone together, maybe it's his insecurities, but at the last moment he just wraps his arms around you and pulls you in for another hug.

You just bury your face in his chest, listening to his heartbeat as the snow falls outside.

[jnlnyaface]

Those Magic Changes

This is the first of 4 connected fics. They are in the same universe and here are the rules: Macy, Mel and Maggie all have the same father and they grew up together They don't find out about their powers until after the first part Pretty much, it's an AU that follows closer to the original series as far as timeline is concerned *** This is for @charmedsecretsanta My person was: @xoheatherkw This is for the Hacy AU Meet Cute

You can also find it here *** Merry Christmas! I hope you like it!

Summery: All Macy Vera-Vaughn wanted for Christmas was to not think about how this was she and her sisters first one without their mother and father. Ice skating should take their minds off that. Right? If that doesn't, meeting a cute new guy just might.   

              Winter was always Macy Vera-Vaughn’s favorite time of year. She loved the cold and the snow and the fact that it got dark earlier in the day. She knew she was weird but, at 29 years old, it was too late to fix now. What she loved most, though, was the time she got to spend with her family. As corny as she knew it sounded, it was the truth. When her father died 3 years ago she and her sisters, Maggie and Mel drifted apart for a while. It took some time but they’re mother brought them together by reminding them that their sisterhood was their strength. She showed them that, the best way to get through the hurt was by leaning on each other. Now, 10 months after their mother died, they are trying to remember that lesson so they don’t lose each other again.

               At this point, as they approached their first Christmas without her, it mostly meant everyone taking turns coming up with activities for them to do together to keep them distracted from the reality of their situation. Maggie had them decorate the whole house. Inside and out. Mel had them make hot chocolate and watch classic Christmas movies all night. Today it was Macy’s turn. Her main goal was to get everyone out of the house. But she didn’t know what to do.

               She tried to think back to Christmases of years past. She tried to think about the things that brought her the most joy. Most of her Christmas memories included her parents doing everything they could to make sure everything was perfect. She wanted to do that for her sisters but she was at a loss. It wasn’t until she was walking up the path towards the house after work and she almost slipped on a patch of ice that she got an idea.  

               Their local ice rink was the scene for so many of her favorite childhood memories. Macy remembered all the times they would go as a family and all the fun they would have together. That’s how she and her sisters found their way there this afternoon.

               “It’s been way too long since I’ve been on any type of skates,” Mel said as the three sisters sat on one of the benches that lined the rink lacing up their rental skates. Macy forgot how hopeless Mel was on skates but there was no turning back now. “I’m not even sure I know how to anymore.”

               “It’s just like riding a bike Mel,” Maggie chirped standing up ready to go.

               “Yeah if a bike had one inch wide metal wheels and you only rode it on cold hard ice.” Mel wobbled as she stood and began to limp toward Maggie.

               “You can always get one of those walker things,” Macy attempted kindly. “I’m sure they have adult ones too.” Macy knew Mel’s pride wouldn’t let her get the ice walker but she wouldn’t be her if she didn’t at least try.

               “No thank you. I refuse to look like an idiot out there with a walker like I’m some toddler on the ice for the first time or worse an old lady.” Mel stubbornly made her way to the rink’s opening. Knowing her insistence would do no good against her hard-headed sister; Macy shook her head and followed behind her. If she couldn’t get Mel to get the walker, she could at least stay by her to make sure she didn’t hurt herself.

***

               Being back on the ice was like being a kid again. Macy forgot how much she loved the feeling of gliding. The cold breeze against her face. The slightly numb feeling in the tips of her fingers. When she was younger she wanted to be a figure skater. In the basement she would watch the Olympics and pretend like the floor was competition ice. She would mimic the skaters’ routines down to the hand movements and facial expressions. No one could’ve told her she wasn’t going to be a gold medalist. Her dad paid for lessons when she was 6. But after a year she realized skating wasn’t something she was ready to commit to full time. In other words, she turned 7 and found something new to be obsessed with.

               As she and her sisters started on their first lap around the rink silence settled heavily around them. There was an unspoken agreement among them that they wouldn’t speak about their mother or their father or what this holiday season meant for them. That they were orphans all alone in the world, but for each other. The problem was: they running out of things to do and say. In tiptoeing around the subject they were drifting dangerously close to an epic emotional breakdown. Macy wasn’t sure she was quite ready for that yet.

               “Remember, that one year we came here, and dad broke his arm trying to impress mom?” This may have not been the best way to break the tension but it was her idea to come here so she had to try something. “He tried to do that backflip?”                “We were in the ER for 6 hours on Christmas Eve!” Mel laughed.

               “She made him take us to iHop for pancakes once they finally let him out,” Maggie cackled. Macy was surprised Maggie remembered that, she was only 5 at the time. “She let us get whatever we wanted and when we got home she took a nap and made him take care of us by himself.”

               “…with one arm!” Mel finished, laughing so hard she almost loses her balance.

               “It was a little cruel of her to hop us up on sugar and leave him alone with us,” Macy lamented.

               “He deserved it,” Mel proclaimed. “He knew he shouldn’t have been doing flips, let alone on ice.”

               “At least she kept us out of the house the rest of the day to let him rest. She was always so considerate. Even when she was mad.” Maggie’s face fell as she added the thought. It was the exact face Macy was trying to avoid. The three sisters slipped back into silence. More melancholy than the one before. Macy took a breath, something upbeat to shift the mood back to lightheartedness dies on her tongue as Maggie speaks again, “I think I’m going to get a hot chocolate.” Maggie was halfway across the ice before either of her sisters could say anything.

               Macy and Mel looked at one another then after their sister shaking their heads in tandem. They started their path around the rink again enjoying the ice in silence. Well, Macy enjoyed the ice, Mel focused on not falling.

               “I have a meeting with the new women’s studies chair on Friday.” Macy welcomed Mel’s effort to make conversation. “I already registered for next semester. Now I just have to prove to him that I’m ready to teach again,” Mel groused. “Have I mentioned how much I hate the idea of a cis white male taking over mom’s position?”

               “Yes, Mel, you have,” about a billion times Macy kept the last part to herself. After their mother died, Mel had what can only be classified as a slight mental breakdown. She became a woman obsessed. She was convinced someone killed her. After 2 months in a downward spiral she decided to take the rest of the semester off, the summer and fall semester too. Now she was going back for spring semester. Macy wasn’t sure Mel was actually ready or if she knew the right things to say. She figured though maybe if her sister faked being happy long enough she would accidently become happy. Macy would continue to keep a close eye on her regardless.

               “Well it’s insane and I am not here for it!” Mel exclaimed. “I’m going to meet with this guy and as soon as he clears me to teach again I’m going to give him a peace of my mind.”

               “Please don’t.” Mel was always quick to jump headfirst into a conflict. Macy was always the voice of reason trying to hold her back. It was not an easy job.

***

               “Can we take a break? I’m starting to get tired.” They made it to the opposite end on the rink and Mel started to slow down and grabbed hold of the wall to keep herself upright. “You can keep going. I’m just going to hang out here for a minute.”

               “N…no I…I can’t leave you,” Macy stammered. “I would never forgive myself if I left you behind and you got hurt.”

               “You can be more dramatic than Maggie sometimes, I swear.” Mel rolled her eyes and attempted to push Macy away from the wall while simultaneously gripping it for dear life. “I will stay right here.”

               “No, I’ll wait. I don’t want to leave you here by yourself.” Macy was trying to be more assertive. She was the eldest sister but Mel was always the one who took the lead. She was fearless and headstrong and defiant. Macy envied that about her. Macy had always been told that as the oldest she was supposed to protect her sisters. But that directly conflicted with her shy and reserved nature. In fact, if it wasn’t for Mel protecting her, people would walk all over her. It had been that way for as long as Macy could remember. Now that their mother was gone Macy was technically the matriarch of the family. Hers were big shoes to fill. Mel was the natural choice for leader. Her overconfidence would often get her and Macy into and out of all kinds of trouble as children. But Macy wanted to take care and help ease some of the burden. Especially considering recent circumstances. Maybe they could do it together. Maybe there didn’t have to be one leader. Maybe the three of them could just take care of each other.

“Macy I know how much you love ice skating,” Mel started knowingly. “I insist you take a lap or two or three. I’ll just stand here and chill. Get it chill?”

Macy stared straight faced at Mel not cracking even the slightest hint of a smile at her joke. Mel always tried to make them laugh with puns and it never worked. Well it kind of worked but Macy didn’t want Mel to get a big head so she never gave anything away.

Just as Macy went to reply a young girl zipped past them. She had a look of peace on her face as she enjoyed the ice. Macy couldn’t hide the look of longing that passed across her features. She wished she could skate faster. But she couldn’t leave Mel when she was one stiff wind away from cracking her tailbone on the smooth ice below. Macy tried to quickly school her features but her ever perceptive sister saw before she could.

“I’m serious Mace, Go,” Mel insisted.

“You know what? I think I will.” It wouldn’t hurt. She figured a lap would help clear her head. She hoped it would make her numb to the feelings that were trying to break free from her heart. “I’ll do one lap and be right back.”

“Take you time and enjoy yourself,” Mel gave a faux serious look.

“No wonder why people think you’re the oldest. You’re so bossy.” Macy took off with one last backwards glance in Mel’s direction, just to make sure she was steady.

***

Gliding around the rink was just as wonderful and freeing as Macy remembered. While on the ice it was like all the world’s problems didn’t exist. Only her and the blistering cold. Which, wasn’t all that blistering despite what the weather reports and thermometer would have you believe.

As she made it to the far end of the rink she looked up to see Mel waving at her from her spot on the wall. Maybe one more lap wouldn’t hurt. Mel will be fine. She was the one to suggest Macy take a couple of laps in the first place. Maybe she’ll even do a couple spins in the middle of the rink while she’s at it. Then she’ll be right back at Mel’s side, helping her struggle back to the exit.

Once in the middle of the rink she looked over to quickly check on Mel. What she expected to see was her sister holding the wall for dear life. What she saw was a man in a red coat with his arms wrapped around her. What she also saw was a furious Mel swatting at the arm around her waist.

Macy took off like a shot towards her sister and the stranger who may or may not have been manhandling her. As she got closer she could hear more and more of the lecture she knew Mel was in the process of giving.

“…didn’t ask for your help, first of all!” Macy could hear the righteous fury in Mel’s voice. “You shouldn’t be touching women you don’t know. Second of all…”

“Get away from her!” Macy screamed as she slid to a stop behind the pair. “Get your hands off of her right now!”

“I got this Macy,” Mel assured she blindly waved her hand over her shoulder in Macy’s general direction to reinforce her point. “Get your hands off of me.”

“I am so sorry!” The red coated stranger, with a surprising British accent, started as he turned to face Macy, Mel still in his arms. “I was just skating by and I saw her losing her balance and…” the stranger’s voice trailed off as he and Macy locked eyes. She’s instantly struck by how beautiful his are.

Macy was frozen in her spot and it wasn’t because of the cold. This man was handsome and Macy would be the first to admit that she was not the best when it came to speaking to handsome men. Maggie still won’t let her live down the ‘Galvin Incident’ from 2 years ago. That was when Macy first move back home, she just finished her doctoral program at Oxford and got a sweet position at Hilltowne University’s lab. Galvin worked in the lab with her; she met him on her first day. She was so awkward and uncomfortable around him she scared him off. He ran right into the arms of Summer and never left. Macy, Galvin and Summer were actually the best of friends now. She was even set to be a bridesmaid in their wedding next Spring, but that was beside the point. The point was she wasn’t good with hot guys so in this moment she wasn’t sure what to say. Words might be a good place to start.

“Uh…hi…hey…hello…hi…” Macy stammered her cheeks heating up with a flush. “Hi.”

“Hi,” the stranger responded a smile growing on his awestruck face. They stayed gazing at each other for way longer than appropriate. The stranger extended his hand toward Macy letting go of Mel while he did. “Hi…”

As Macy’s hand met his and she mentally prepared herself to stumble through another unintelligible sentence the trance is broken by a thump, a loud groan and Mel’s voice coming from the ground, “Uh…some help here guys…?” She must’ve lost her balance again when the stranger let her go to shake Macy’s hand.

“Oh my God Mel!” Macy and the stranger dived to help her sister back to her feet. “Are you okay?”

“I am so sorry once again,” He said wiping the ice off her coat. Mel once again swatted his hands away but clung to Macy to stay upright. “Maybe you should get one of those walker things.” The glare Mel threw his way could melt steel. He made the wise choice and raised his hands in defeat before the fight even started. It was like he knew he would never be able to win.  “Or maybe I’ll just go…”

“No!” Macy startled herself with how loud she was. She and the hazel eyed stranger locked eyes once again. And once again she fell into their beauty. Scanning his face she landed on the small smile on his lips and moved to the light stubble on his chin. His whole face was beautiful. Faintly she could hear Mel getting revved up for another lecture. Macy cut her off. “What I mean is, you don’t have to go, we will.” She gestured to herself and Mel. “I should probably get her back on solid ground anyway.”

“No way!” Maggie seemed to materialize at Mel’s other side. “I will take Senorita Stubborn Ass to get a walker while you two take a couple laps around the rink.”

Before Macy could even process Maggie’s words she had Mel’s arm around her shoulder and they were halfway to the entrance leaving her alone with the stranger.

“Well…that wasn’t awkward at all.” Of all the things to say. Seriously? Macy was more than a little mortified.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want…” His voice trailed off obviously meaning the give her an out. After some more intense staring Macy’s brain finally came back to life with an answer.

“I would like to…would you?” She figured skating with a handsome stranger was the best distraction she could ask for.  

“Yes!” He enthusiastically replied before he cleared his throat and more calmly stated, “Yes I would love to.” He extended his elbow toward her and Macy took it locking their arms together. She didn’t have to wonder if she imagined the spark she felt. She could see in his eyes that he felt it too.

“I’m Macy, by the way…” She realized that while they had been speaking for the last 20 minutes she didn’t know his name.

“Nice to meet you Macy,” He smiled softly at her. “I’m Harry.”

***

I hope you guys enjoyed it. Like I said this is the first part of 4 connected fics. I haven't finished parts 2-4 yet but I plan to have them finished soon. I wanted to get this out during the posting period. If there are any errors I apologize in advance. Thank you so much for reading Happy Holidays and Happy New Year!

@charmedsecretsanta  @xoheatherkw

[purplesurveys]

601

Who was the last person to hold your hand? Gabie and my dad are the only ones who can hold my hand. I feel uncomfortable when others do it, even if in a platonic sense. What was the last thing you paid for? I needed a quick lunch to get me by before my exam, so I had instant noodles and kwek-kwek. Has anyone ever told you that you were their best friend? Yes. What's your favorite thing you own? I like my phone because I can use it for almost everything. Can you recite all the lyrics to your favorite song? I don’t have an all-time favorite song but I do memorize the lyrics to a lot of songs that I like.

Who made you laugh the hardest today? I didn’t really laugh today other than towards Gab sending me a meme. Would you sing in front of a large crowd? No. Have you ever jumped out of a moving car? No but I’ve thought about it, lol. Do you prefer chocolate ice cream? I’d have it if it was the only flavor around, but it’s not really my first choice. Can you speak any other languages? Filed under: questions on *almost* every survey. Yes, I learned Filipino before mastering English. Have you ever heard of the band The Cliques? Yes, keywords here being heard of. I haven’t heard any of their material. How many hours of sleep did you get last night? I had a crucial exam this morning that I only got to study for yesterday, so I really had to go all out. I only had five hours of sleep last night. Have you done your homework yet? I’m done with all my homework because I just finished my last requirement (a final exam) for this semester :) Time to be depressed this Christmas and disappear in my survey hole for the next two weeks. Did you get hurt today? Yes, my toothache has struck once again and it’s hurting like a bitch tonight. Thankfully this survey is distracting me from how painful it actually is being right now. What's a song no one would think you'd like, but you actually love? I’m not sure about ‘no one would think you’d like’ because I don’t pay attention to what people think of my music taste lmao but I’m surprised I ended up liking everything i wanted by Billie Eilish, considering her whispering annoys me most days. Have you ever snuck out? No. My mom always goes up and down the house and occasionally checks up my room, so she’d know if I left without permission. How old were you when you got your first boyfriend/girlfriend? 16. Are you talking to anyone? If so, who? I sent a text to Gab just now but we’re not in the middle of a conversation; I was just checking in on her. Have you ever been to Florida? Nope. What is the closest thing to you that's green? Fake plant decors on our dining table. When was the last time you wore a hat? A month ago when I decided to wear a cap to school. Are you broke right now? Far from it, thankfully hahaha. I’ve gathered a lot of savings for Christmas gifts but that’s gonna disappear next week when I finally go shopping. Has anyone given you a piggyback ride today? No. I’m not one to jump on someone’s back for a ride either. When was the last time you felt absolutely happy? Maybe last Monday when I paid my girlfriend a visit. She had a rough weekend and was not talking to absolutely anybody, myself and her family included. I felt happy to improve her mood just by simply showing up. When was the last time you felt upset? Yesterday, I got unbelievably pissed at myself because I stayed at home thinking I didn’t have to go to school (because I was done with almost all requirements) – I HAD A REPORT SLATED FOR YESTERDAY that I completely forgot about. I have never missed a single goddamn report in my whole time in college until then. Thankfully it’s a very chill class and it’s a group report, so my groupmates covered for me; but I definitely made sure I PM’d them individually and apologized profusely. How did you react when your first pet died? I wasn’t too attached to my first goldfish, so I was sad about it when he died but I wasn’t too distraught either. Have you ever drawn anime? No. If you had to give up everything for someone, would you? Probably not. What do you hear right now? I’m listening to a lo-fi playlist on Spotify. Do you feel alone right now? Nope. I just feel SHITTY because of this TOOTHACHE Have you ever told someone that you loved that you hated them? Never. Hate is a strong word. I don’t want to inflict something temporary onto someone important to me, because I’ll regret it immediately after and for the rest of my life. What are you looking forward to? This toothache going away, and for the rest of my Christmas break. I’ve never been more happy about a semester ending – this last one shook up my mental health so bad lmfao. When does your school let out for summer break? It’s either the third or the last week of May. Have you ever played Bingo? Yes. I remember one of my grand-aunts hosting A LOT of bingo parties at her place, and my 8 year old self would join her and her amigas not knowing it was already a form of gambling. I just joined because it won me some money haha. Can you use a pogo stick? No. I’ve always wanted to try it, but I’ve never even seen a real-life one. When's the next time you'll see the person that you like? I have no clue. Saturday seems slim cos we both have our respective Christmas parties, so I may just opt to see her next week when we go gift shopping. Do you currently want something? If so, what? If the theme for this survey still isn’t reiterated enough, it’s for this toothache to go away. Have you ever skinny dipped? No. Not really the sort of thing I’d do. What are you looking forward to most this summer? Graduating and getting whatever graduation gift I get, if any. And finally coming out to my parents. Can you draw well? Nope. Do you like bathing/showering? Only if it gets very hot/humid or when I feel dirty. Otherwise I get lazy. How do you feel about today? it was uneventful. I just went to school this morning to take my final exam for two hours, drove back home, slept all afternoon, and now I’m taking this survey. Maybe I’ll watch Friends after. What would you change about yourself? My confidence, and my lack thereof. What was the last thing you had to drink? Chocolate con nueces from our local bakery.

Who's closest to you, where you are? My sister and her boyfriend are chilling in the living room where he’s playing the PS4. Have you ever stolen something from a department store? No. Have you ever jumped off your roof? No, but [trigger warning: suicide] I’ve looked down at the ground from our rooftop thinking if I’d survive the jump. When was the last time you wanted to scream? Earlier this morning dealing with stupid drivers. Are you honest? I try to be. When was the last time you cried? If I remember it correctly, Friday or Saturday evening. I missed Nacho so I decided to talk to him. Can you play the violin? Haha, no and the few times I tried it I was atrocious. It’s a beautiful instrument. Have you ever considered entering a race? No. I don’t have the stamina and endurance for it. Are you listening to music right now? Yep. What's the nicest thing someone said to you today? My classmate said she was happy she met me in our class. Who said it? Gia, from my Contemporary Philippines class. If someone asked you to get them a soda right now, would you? If it was Gab, then yes I’d drive all the way there to get her a can of soda because I miss her hahahaha. I probably wouldn’t do it for anyone else. Have you ever broken a bone? I have not. Do you have a middle name? Yes. When was the last time you went on vacation? August. Do you truly love anyone? I truly love a lot of people.