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findingnemosworld · 8 months

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𝐧𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐚 𝐳𝐚𝐫𝐚 - 𝐱𝐚𝐛𝐢 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐨

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: just so you know, I am going to hell for this but YOLO baby!!!

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: xabi has been managing the bayer leverkusen squad for nearly seven months now, and within that time, he finds himself drawn to the club's photographer, camila mernes.

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐩, 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐱𝐚𝐛𝐢 𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐚 ( 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐢, 𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 )

Camila had grown accustomed to running away, at first it made sense; she'd spent her entire life in Spain, built a career there despite some still labeling her as a 'nepo baby' and still; she'd found herself entangled with someone she shouldn't have which ultimately lead her to choose Bavaria as her next residence.

Working as a photographer for Bayern Munich was nothing short of two things - a learning experience and an experience she wished she did not have to endure; the coaching staff were kind, the other employees were kind and most of all the players were kind; most especially, their goalkeeper and captain Manuel Neuer who had taken it upon himself to help Camila with everything she needed.

Yet he couldn't protect her from what is to come.

She'd found herself entangled in the same web, only this time; it was far worse, instead of getting involved with a single player, she'd gotten involved with a player who'd been cheating on his partner behind his back, tricking her for nearly a year until she discovered his truth through an online photo, suffice to say that was more than enough for the young photographer to uproot once again, for the third time in a row; this time choosing Leverkusen as her residence.

She received an offer from the sporting director of the club Bayer Leverkusen, and almost instantly slipped into her role rather easily, she was quiet; she kept to herself and rarely spoke unless it was absolutely necessary for her - only focusing on her work which had definitely impressed the management, so much so that she was given the opportunity of being on the sidelines to capture photos of the matches in action, and before she knew it - a year had passed of peace and serenity.

Or so she thought.

The club hired none other than the legendary fromer Liverpool, Real Madrid and Bayern player as well as World Cup winner Xabi Alonso to be their new manager after an unfortunate spell of looses which had hurt their campaign and nearly cost them their spot on the table, however with Xabi's arrival came a newfound sense of hope that had shone on a light in the club, the energy had shifted both on the pitch and during training, hell, it had even affected Camila in a positive way as she'd been debating on leaving photography once and for all, to return to Spain; yet his presence served as a motivator for her to stay.

You see, before Camila became a photographer; she'd been training in the Athletic Club's youth academy and had participated in several matches before an unfortunate injury on her twentieth birthday had killed her chance of becoming a football player - and thanks to therapy, she found herself again; this time as a photographer, the person had inspired her to play before was none other than Xabi, and while she never admitted it out loud, she'd always harbored a stupid schoolgirl kind of crush on him which made her even more recluse than she already is, she did not think anyone would notice; but boy was she mistaken.

Because he noticed her ...

Xabi had escaped the clutches of yet another failed relationship in Spain once he agreed to come here, it was the perfect stepping stone should he ever receive an offer from any of his former clubs as expected; it's just a coaching job, he's here to help the younger generation shine and uplift a team that had struggled for a while, and yet the minute his eyes landed on her, it was as if someone had stripped him of the air that he breathed.

He'd learned of her through Simon who told him what he knew, that she used to work for Bayern and that according to her, she came here to start fresh - that alone, had peaked his curiosity so much so that he spent one night searching her name online to see several articles hailing her photography skills, and one article detailing the nasty injury she had picked up which ended her career, and the more he dove deep into the old videos of her playing.

The more he developed an unexplainable fascination with her, that only seemed to grow as the weeks passed until it developed into an obsession.

Camila was never a suspicious person by default, especially since within the realm of her workspace; she'd maintained a well rounded distance from everyone there, only conversing if she absolutely needed to - and yet, the minute she walked in this morning, her gaze lands on the items neatly placed on her office; the items in question being, a cup of coffee, a box of what she assumed to be some sort of dessert, but the one thing that caught her attention was a small folded paper, she places her bag down and walks up to the table to grab the paper, she unfolds it to see a handwritten note.

𝙖 𝙩𝒓𝙚𝒂𝙩 𝙩𝒉𝙖𝒕 𝒎𝙖𝒕𝙘𝒉𝙚𝒔 𝙮𝒐𝙪𝒓 𝒔𝙬𝒆𝙚𝒕𝙣𝒆𝙨𝒔

She frowns in confusion, who could possibly send it? - she barely spoke to anyone outside of work; deciding not to dwell on it, she sits down to start working; and while she did so, she opened the dessert box and was stunned to see a neatly sliced piece of red velvet cake which was her favorite dessert, " This is weird " she murmurs to her self.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door which caused her to look up, her eyes locking with Simon who greets her with a broad smile. " Guten Morgen Camila "

" Guten Morgen " Camila smiles back.

" You're here early " Simon said.

" I had some left over photo sets that needed to be done " Camila states, " Erm Simon, did you put this here? " she gestures to the items.

Simon casts a look at what she was gesturing to then shakes his head. " No, why do you ask? "

Camila shakes her head, opting not to make a big deal out of what could just be a kind gesture from someone. " It's nothing, probably someone's attempt at befriending me "

" Well, training is in an hour so I'll see you out on the pitch " Simon said, before he stood up and left her office.

Camila was left with her thoughts, who could know such an intimate detail; it's not like she went about and shared it to everyone she met, her co-workers while kind and very friendly were respectful of her distance, she didn't even have them on her social media accounts, so who could it possibly be?

The thoughts were pushed back that day in favor of work, she'd gotten the job done - all while she was blissfully unaware of the fact that her reclusiveness, and lack of conversing were enough to capture the attention of the last person she could possibly expect.

That one minor incident became a recurring event, every morning she finds the same exact items with a different note written each single time.

𝙮𝒐𝙪 𝙙𝒆𝙨𝒆𝙧𝒗𝙚 𝙣𝒐𝙩𝒉𝙞𝒏𝙜 𝙗𝒖𝙩 𝙝𝒂𝙥𝒑𝙞𝒏𝙚𝒔𝙨

𝒚𝙤𝒖𝙧 𝙨𝒎𝙞𝒍𝙚 𝙡𝒊𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 𝒖𝙥 𝙢𝒚 𝙙𝒂𝙮

𝒅𝙤 𝙣𝒐𝙩 𝙡𝒆𝙩 𝙮𝒐𝙪𝒓 𝒑𝙖𝒔𝙩 𝙗𝒓𝙞𝒏𝙜 𝙮𝒐𝙪 𝙙𝒐𝙬𝒏, 𝙮𝒐𝙪'𝙧𝒆 𝒂 𝒓𝙖𝒚 𝒐𝙛 𝒔𝙪𝒏𝙨𝒉𝙞𝒏𝙚 𝙩𝒐 𝒔𝙤𝒎𝙚𝒐𝙣𝒆 𝒐𝙪𝒕 𝒕𝙝𝒆𝙧𝒆

It would get deeper each time, as if the person behind all of these notes were alluding to something - and she had yet to narrow down exactly who it was, up until one night; as she was working on editing the last set of photos to send to the social media team, she finally registered that the sky had darkened as she sent in the last set - she packs her items to head out.

Once she makes it out to the parking lot, she makes a beeline to her car; carefully looking around her surroundings until she finally got to her car, just as she entered her car; she pushes the key in and twists it, frowning when the engine wasn't working as she knew it would, she tried another time, and another and another until a groan of frustration escaped her lips. " This stupid piece of junk " she exclaimed, a bit too loud to no one in particular.

" Camila! "

The sudden smooth and accented voice calling her name caused her to squeal the jump before she turned around to come face to face with Xabi, she placed a hand on her chest to calm her wild heartbeat and mutters. " Mister Alonso, you scared me "

" I'm sorry about that " Xabi begins with an apologetic smile, " I was finishing up some work and I stepped out to head to my car; that's when I saw you "

Camila blinks then nods with a faint smile across her lips, " I see .. well as you can see " she gestures to her car and a dry chuckle escapes her lips, " I'm a sentimental person, I should get a new car but because it's a gift from a friend, I can't seem to find it in me to get rid of it, I'm attached "

Xabi nods, mirroring her smile. " We all have things we become attached to " he states, " or people " he adds silently.

" Pardon? " Camila asks.

" Nothing " Xabi shakes his head before gesturing to his car which was five cars down from hers, " If you'd like, I can drive you home "

Camila's mouth forms in the shape of an "O", the mere action had drawn his attention to her lips before he quickly looks back up in her eyes. " I don't want to trouble you, I was going to stop at a supermarket and pick up a few things for dinner "

" Well, we can shop together " Xabi shrugs nonchalantly, " or ... I can treat you for a traditional Basque meal "

Camila pressed her lips to hold back a smile, " Mister Alonso? " She asks with a confused smile, " Are you asking me out on a date? "

In that moment; Xabi couldn't have been more thankful for the fact that it was dark as he masked his embarrassment with a chuckle, " If it makes you feel uncomfortable, we don't have to, it doesn't even count as a date but rather an olive branch from one northern Spaniard to another "

" An olive branch " Camila repeats with a giggle.

Xabi made a mental note of how soft her giggle was, similar to a melodious tone. " Sí, an olive branch "

" Ok, but um ... I don't want to um " Camila felt rather small under his soft his gaze especially since he towered over her. " I don't want this to affect the professional relationship between us "

" It won't " Xabi assures her with the same charming smile, " we're two adults who are spending time together in a country far away from their home "

That seemed enough for her to be convinced, " Alright, I'll come with you, but ... " she paused with a smile, " the meal better be good "

" It's a very special meal " Xabi grins and walks up close to her, " Let me help you "

They walk up together in his car, Camila remained silent while Xabi was thankful that his plan worked; there was only one step left, to work his charm further and ensure that she's fully in his trap.

They walk into his spacious two story house, neatly decorated with art pieces and accolades from his career - Camila looks around while Xabi placed her items nearby before walking up to her while she was looking over photographs from his career, " Something peaked your interest? " He asks, albeit aware of her fascination with football and the interesting tid bit she mentioned about him during an interview once.

Camila's cheeks flamed at the realization that he was within close proximity to her, " I'm impressed actually " she admits with a smile.

" Did you play? " Xabi asks, pretending to be clueless.

That seemed to elicit yet another giggle which made him smile and say, " Did I say something funny? "

" No, it's just .. " Camila laughs, " I had such big dreams of becoming a football player "

Xabi nods, " and what happened? "

" A very nasty injury, a lifetime of therapy and here I am " Camila said.

" Interesting " Xabi nods before he gestures to the kitchen, " Would you like to change before joining me in the kitchen? "

" I don't have a spare change of clothes " Camila states with a confused expression.

" Oh I know, I'll lend you some of mine, to be more comfortable " Xabi said.

" Are you sure? " Camila asks him.

" Why wouldn't I be sure? " Xabi smiles warmly, " come on, I'll lead you to my bedroom where you can change while I get a head start in the kitchen "

Normally, when one person is in such a situation; it should raise a bit of concern; yet Camila was in close proximity with someone she once idolized growing up, someone whom never displayed anything that could be accounted for as an uneasy or an uncomfortable action, she willingly follows him to his bedroom which was just as spacious with a kingsized bed, a large window overlooking a gorgeous view and a very large closet.

She awkwardly stands in the middle of his bedroom until he brings a pair of shorts and one of his old jerseys, " I hope you don't mind " Xabi states with a smile.

" Erm " Camila glances at the clothes in his hand, before smiling. " I don't mind at all "

Xabi beams, " good to hear, then I'll leave you to change; then you can join me "

He steps out of his bedroom, his mind already clouded by the images of Camila naked; in his arms as he ravishes her with all his might, that one thought was enough to send blood shooting straight down to make his jeans rather uncomfortable - he shakes his head, in order to focus on the devised plan.

Fifteen minutes later, Xabi looks up at the sound of small footsteps and his heart nearly leapt at the sight of Camila's petite form dressed in his jersey and his shorts. " They seem to fit " he comments with a jocular tone.

" Yeah " Camila gently lifts the shorts which loosened and were barely visible. due to how large the jersey was, she chuckles, " they do "

Xabi pours her a glass of wine, he hands her the glass before pouring himself a glass. " How long have you been working for Leverkusen? "

" A year and a half! I actually moved here after working for Bayern Munich " Camila explains, " It's been going well for me so far "

" That's good " Xabi nods, " You don't miss Spain at all? "

Camila shakes her head, " As strange as it sounds, I don't! Germany became my second home, I like it here, it's more comfortable in a weird sense " she chuckles.

" That's interesting, usually people become home sick but I never heard people wanting to be away from their home " Xabi said.

" That's cause you never met me, thirty one with the heart of a child that loves to wander " Camila said then took a sip of her wine before asking, " What about you? "

" What about me? " Xabi repeats her question with a charming tone.

" Why would you, a legend accept a job here? " Camila asks with genuine curiosity.

" Because, this is just the start of my career in managing, I want to gain experience and what better way to do that then come back to the country I retired in, like you; Germany is like a second home to me, so it wasn't hard to refuse an offer " Xabi shrugs, " besides, it was a perfect opportunity to escape my heartbreak "

The look across her face had affirmed his initial doubt over why she moved to Leverkusen. Camila murmurs, " Wow "

" Yeah, but I’m better now " Xabi smiles, much better. he thinks to himself.

" Lucky you " Camila mutters under her breath.

Xabi looks at her for a moment, " I take it we have something in common "

Camila looks up briefly before looking away and chuckling in response, " that obvious? "

" You’re not that hard to read querida " Xabi states with a gentle, grinning when he noticed her cheeks growing pink.

" There goes my attempts of being quite mysterious " Camila giggles.

" I think it’s quite adorable " Xabi remarks before he was interrupted by the sound of the oven. " Dinner’s ready! "

______

After having dinner, they move to the living room nursing yet another glass of wine and chatting over everything and nothing.

" Mister Alonso " Camila said.

" Come on Camila, call me Xabi, please " Xabi pleads with her.

" Xabi " Camila repeats, and as she looked at the tv for a moment; she failed to notice how he clenched his fist then unclenched it. " I have to ask, why did you invite me over? "

" I told you, I wanted to extend an olive branch, you seem to prefer solitude during work hours which honestly peaked my interest " Xabi explains.

" So you felt pity over me? " Camila deduced.

" Oh no " Xabi shakes his head as he clarifies further, " Heavens no, I actually felt curious as to why you liked being alone so much "

" I just don’t like talking " Camila shrugs.

" Is that why you didn’t answer most of my questions? " Xabi asks with a smirk, " or was it something else? "

" Well ... " Camila said, " It's a combination of many things "

" Such as ... " Xabi prompts her to continue.

" Erm ... " Camila hesitates, before being encouraged by the wine she was drinking. " I get shy around people I like "

Xabi's brows shot up, and a smile adorned his lips. " Oh really? "

" You're going to think it's stupid " Camila laughs before waving it off, " It is really stupid "

" I promise you querida, nothing you can say now will ever be considered stupid especially seeing as your work in the moment has honestly bewitched me " Xabi admits.

" Oh gosh " Camila mutters then covers her face with the wine glass.

" Come on " Xabi prompts her, shuffling closer until there was only a minuscule glimmer of space left between them, " Tell me "

" Ok " Camila nods, " Do you promise not to look at me differently? "

" You have my word " Xabi nods, struggling to conceal the fact that he already looks at her differently.

" When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a football player as I told you " Camila began, " And I worked so hard to train for that, I wanted to be a midfielder, and you know who inspired me? "

" Who? " Xabi asks, hesitantly swiping her hair away from her face before he smiled at her.

" You " Camila admits, with reddened cheeks before adding, " I had the biggest, biggest crush on you "

Xabi's lips curve into a grin, " Is that so? "

" Please don't make fun of me, I was young and they asked me; who's the player that inspired you the most? I said you because well, I never lie about my emotions, well used to " Camila murmurs.

Xabi repeats the same motion, this time; he runs his digits through her hair. " How do you feel about me now? "

Camila registers to the fact that his body was close to her, she nervously takes a big gulp of her wine glass before responding with a chuckle. " I admire you "

Xabi laughs, " just that ... " he whispers, instinctively leaning his face closer to hers.

" Well, I mean ... " Camila murmurs, " For all I know, you could have a girlfriend or are seeing someone - besides, its unprofessional for sure to be thinking of a co-worker or a superior in such way that I ca- " her words were interrupted the second she felt his lips on top of hers.

Xabi couldn't withhold his desires anymore, cradling her face with his hands to properly kiss her, he felt her still for a moment which caused him to pull back. " Camila, I'm sorry " he admits, " I don't know what came over me, it's just ... ever since I saw you, I was quite -um- fascinated by you, and if you want we can just forget this and I - "

She'd definitely fallen into the trap as it was now Camila that pulled Xabi close to kiss him before muttering, " Let's just .. " she murmurs against his lips, " Let's not talk "

Xabi resisted the urge to smirk, she'd fallen right where he wants her to fall; " Before we continue, I want to say one thing " he said, digits stroking the apples of her cheeks.

" What? " Camila whispers.

Xabi grins, hoisting the petite woman into his lap; he cradles her face once again in his hands and kisses her more passionately this time, he swipes his tongue across her lower lip which granted him access to her mouth, his tongue immediately colliding with hers. " Your lips are so soft " he murmurs eliciting a whimper from her which in turn caused him to groan, " katutxoa ( kitten ) "

Camila pulls back to catch her breath, " I ... " she was immediately silenced by his thumb stroking her lower lip.

" Don't think about anything " Xabi murmurs, leaning in to press a trail of soft kisses from her jaw down to her neck and on her shoulder, " Let make you feel good "

He hoists her up in his arms, wrapping them securely around her waist as they go up to his bedroom, they walk in towards the bed then he gently drops her on the bed, grinning when she sat up to undress herself, once they were fully bare to one another - he climbs up on top of her, capturing her lips in the sweetest most tender kiss which quickly became heated when her clothed breasts brushed against his chest, he skillfully unhooks her bra with one finger then loosens it to discard it somewhere across the room.

He takes a minute to drink in the sight of her, her hair splayed across the pillow; chest heaving with deep breaths, nipples hardening from the cold air, " jainkozko ikuspegia zara, nire katu gozoa ( you are a divine vision, my sweet kitten ) " he murmurs, burying his face in her neck to plant a plethora of kisses, he then descends downwards to tend to her breasts, one hand toys with one while his lips wrap around the other one - the sound of her moans encouraged him to dive further and come face to face with her clothed pussy.

" Please " Camila whimpers.

Xabi's lips curve into a wicked grin, he carefully slips the panties down, a half moan- half groan escapes his lips at the sight of her glistening pussy. " You're so wet " he whispers in awe. " You've been thinking about this, haven't you? "

Camila nods wordlessly, eliciting a smile from him as he presses soft kisses to her inner thighs, drawing out soft moans from her lips which transformed into a cry when he felt his tongue swipe up and down her pussy.

" And you taste even better " Xabi hums in satisfaction, keeping the same pace, darting his tongue up and down rapidly. " So good " he murmurs before finally wrapping his lips entirely around her swollen nub.

Camila grabs the bedsheet with both hands, knuckles turning white at the sheer amount of pleasure he was making her feel, edging her closer towards her first orgasm, " Fuck " she cries out, arching her back off of the bed, her eyes blurry with the intense pleasure coursing through her veins.

Xabi climbs back up with a satisfied smile, " You " he pressed a kiss to her abdomen, " Are " he presses a kiss to the valley of her breasts then grinned as he pecks her lips to allow her to taste herself on his lips, " Incredible "

" So are you " Camila giggles, grabbing his face with her hands to kiss him while one hand dives low to wrap itself around his cock causing him to hiss in her mouth.

" So impatient katutxoa " Xabi groans before teasing her with the tip of his cock which was quickly enveloped by her walls the moment he thrusts deep inside of her. " Fuck " he heaves out a deep breath, stilling for a moment to allow her to adjust to his size. " You were made for me katutxoa "

Somehow it felt like an eternity until he started to thrust in and out of her, Camila wrapped both her arms around his back; nails digging deep into his back. " Oh fuck " she cries out, lids fluttered shut tightly. " Fuck ... don't stop "

Xabi pressed soft kisses to her cheek, " I'm not stopping katutxoa " he cooed with a soft voice in her ear, " not until you're shaking yet again, look at you " he praises, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder then just behind her ear. " you're taking my cock so well "

" You feel so good " Camila moans, just he rests his forehead on hers.

" Yeah " Xabi nods with a soft smile, " Tell me katutxoa, tell me who's making you feel good "

" You are " Camila whimpers, eyes brimming with tears. " All you "

" Katutxoa " Xabi murmurs in her ear, thrusting in and out at a rapid speed. " nirea zara, nirea hartu, musu, ukitzeko eta plazer egiteko ( you're mine, all mine to take, to kiss, to touch and to pleasure ) "

That seemed to be the switch to have Camila chasing yet another high, her hands clung onto his back and a cry of pleasure erupts from her lips which was swallowed by his heated kiss, soon enough he had chased his own high before pulling himself away from her to head to his bathroom and set up a bath for the two of them.

And once Camila was able to compose herself, it finally dawned on her what she had just done, and a plethora of emotions coursed through her; however they were pushed away when Xabi reappeared and picked her up in his arms to enter the bathroom, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to not think of life, even for one night.

Two weeks later,

It happened again, Camila finds the exact same items placed neatly on her table; except this time - the folded paper said nothing but two words.

𝙣𝒊𝙧𝒆𝙖 𝙯𝒂𝙧𝒂

And just then, she realized exactly who the secret admirer was; but before she could utter something, a hand snaked its way around her waist a pair of lips found their way to her neck. " It was the only way katutxoa, it was the only way I can get you "

Before she could respond, she turns around to find that he already left - and is now left with the choice of either running away or accepting the jumbled mess of emotions she felt.

#bayer leverkusen #football player one shot #xabi alonso #xabi alonso imagine

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sauroff · 2 years

Note

https://middle-earth-mythopoeia.tumblr.com/post/675644726371860480/please-do-not-support-amazons-lotr-tv-show-the (not mine btw it just has the right links)

Pls check this post out it's about amazon ROP and it's not just "I don't like the way Bezos makes it" it's actually useful (you can always find a way to pirate such a big series)

Hello Anon! I'm gonna give you a kinda long answer here, but I want to be very clear about this because I know lots of you won't be watching the series/don't like them. And that's totally ok, I respect that. I encourage people to read that link, even if you, as me, are planning to watch the series, because it's always good to know more about what you consume.

All that being said: I'm gonna watch it anyway. And I might produce fanart or post about if I feel like it. My reasons, besides "I just want to" can be found under the cut. But I think that the short answer should suffice to those of you who are boycotting or actively not supporting the series. I'll tag all the content about it as ROP, and you are free to black list it. Or unfollow me if any of this goes against your values or put you in a bad place. Take care of yourself however you need.

First of all: I just went to the premier and watched the first two episodes for free, with free popcorn and soda. So, If it makes you feel better, I kinda took money away from Amazon just now.

Second of all: I already have Amazon Prime, and it came for free as part of my internet pack. So I'm not paying for watching the series either.

And I will be watching it from Amazon because, as far as I have seen at least, I want to watch more of it.

"But Amazon is bad Bezos is the actual devil, you are being selfish". Probably. Amazon and Bezos are definitely disgusting. But I'm old, and I pick my fights. And this is not one of those. Firstly, because I don't believe that getting ROP canceled will make Amazon suddenly realize how bad they are and changing their politics. And I know that all the diversity in the show is just a way for them to distract people from their very real systematic racism. But I still wouldn't like to see the show fail and it's failure being pinned on its "wokeness". If I believed that the show getting canceled might somehow change how Amazon operates, then yes, let it go woke broke, I don't care. But I don't think it would change anything at all. Amazon will still be awful, will only loose some dollars (and guess how they would try to get those back? A hint: It won't be from the pockets of those in the higher spheres), and we won't have anymore ROP. That's all.

And my second reason is a lot more unpopular, but I need to get it out of my system: Amazon is, mostly, a first world problem. Yes, I know how this sounds. I know they predate on inmigrants too. But hear me out: we don't have Amazon where I live. We don't consume it or use its services besides Amazon Prime, and it isn't very popular either (ergo, the giving it for free for like a year when you get your internet plan and things like that). Amazon USA doesn't even ship here. I had friends that traveled to Europe, with no plan other than getting some low paid jobs to get some money to live there for a while. Amazon was the first place that gave one of them a job, and he quitted the very next day. One of the wonders of living in a mostly socialist country is that we might be poor, but we sure as hell aren't allowing our employers to explote us. So yeah, Amazon sucks. But I have other fights to pick, and I will pick the local ones. Mostly because I think that, in this case, the whole boycott won't change a thing. But also because me watching the show won't make me a big part of the problem either, really. Is not us who are constaly using the services this hell of a corporation provides by exploiting their employees. I know this will angry a lot of you, but I needed to say it.

I feel like I need to say this again, but thank you Anon for the info. I'm sharing it here for other people to read it and make an informed decision. I'm pretty sure there is plenty more info and resources out there about all the crimes Amazon commits too. I won't lie and pretend that I think that not watching the series can help at all. But I support you doing what you think it's the right thing. That's perfect. And I hope this helps giving at least a little extra visibility to your cause.

#anon #ara gets in trouble for not shutting her mouth about things #i mean #ara answers #ROP #rings of power

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noxexistant · 10 months

Note

Do you have any snippets of any wip that you’re writing atm?

oh anon, this is literally my favourite thing to be asked, i love getting to post writing without finishing it. anon, i am kissing you on the forehead.

here are some opening passages from some of my current wips <3 hopefully they will suffice

—

Oscar wakes up to quiet, ragged breathing.

“What?” he croaks, before any part of his brain has really caught up. Instinct, muscle memory. “Wha’s wrong, Mo? C’mere.”

Morris doesn’t, so Oscar forces himself somewhat upright, haphazardly kicking the too-thick hotel comforter off of him as he does, squinting through the darkness. He searches for Morris in the room - he’s not in his bed beside Oscar’s - and finds him huddled and pacing near the door to the bathroom. He’s got his arms wrapped around himself, rocking, and Oscar can see he’s maybe trying to do a breathing exercise. It’s clearly not working. He’s tapping out the rhythm against his arm, the count of four for box breathing, but he’s counting it fast and sloppy - more a restless, uneven taptaptaptap than a loose count of four seconds.

“What happened?” Oscar asks, as gently as he can when his voice sounds like sandpaper. “D’you have a bad dream? Mo, c’mere.”

—

Morris is fighting tonight.

Tommy Boy only knows because he’s heard whispers. Apparently, Morris and Oscar had had some big blow-up argument about it last night, which a few of the boys loitering outside the warehouse after all the fights had long ended had overheard. Oscar don’t like Morris fighting, usually don’t let him at all, so Tommy’d outright doubt Morris getting into the ring - if it weren’t for the fact he knows damn well that Morris can’t be talked down from nothing he’s set his mind to. And Oscar might be a stubborn bastard even worse than Morris, and overprotective as all hell, but he’s also a pushover for his little brother. It ain’t often that Morris kicks up a fuss for nothing, but, when he does, he gets his way; so, if he’s wanting to fight, he’ll be fighting.

—

Oscar’s got a job today.

He’d only told Morris yesterday, but had sworn when he’d said it that he’d only just found out - ‘cause he usually tells Morris about stuff like that as early as possible, to try and avoid Morris freaking out about it.

Uncle had just sprung it on him that morning, Oscar’d said, told him he had to go…somewhere, Morris can’t remember where, but it ain’t nowhere close. Nowhere outside of the city, but nowhere near Manhattan neither. There’s probably someone to soak, almost definitely some money to take for Uncle’s benefit, so Oscar’s getting sent over to do the dirty work - and Morris ain’t being sent with him because Uncle don’t much like the two of them together anymore. He’d told Morris that he was needed at the gates, had to keep things running ‘cause Oscar’d be missing, but Morris knows that ain’t true because Uncle always says he’s useless at the gates.

Honestly, Morris hadn’t really understood what the big deal was, why both Os and Uncle were being so weird, until Oscar’d looked worried and crouched closer and explained slow that going so far meant he’d be gone all day. From before morning sales to late at night, probably, so he’d miss afternoon sales too, and dinner, and bedtime, not just one sale like he does sometimes.

Uncle had threatened to throw his half-full coffee cup at Morris then, because he’d suddenly found himself unable to breathe and Uncle hates the sound of his choking sort of wheezing when he can’t get air into his lungs.

#answered #anonymous #my writing

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snackhobi · 4 years

Text

pairing: yoongi x reader // word count: 15.8k // genre: smut

summary: your idea of a good night certainly doesn't involve being stood up by yet another blind date and finding yourself alone in a fancy bar; fortunately for you, there's an attractive man playing the piano to keep you busy, instead.

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), cursing, minor consumption of alcohol, oral (m and f receiving), protected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, pet names, slight exhibitionism, slight praise kink, light dom/sub undertones if you squint ig (reader is kind of subby)

– –

Throughout the years of your life, you've learned a few things. Some of them are pretty obvious (buying suspiciously cheap sushi from a petrol station is like playing Russian Roulette with food poisoning and diarrhoea), some of them are less so (just because something is 'on sale' doesn't actually mean that it's cheaper if they'd increased the overall price beforehand), but one thing that you're only just starting to learn is that— for all that Jimin says otherwise— blind dates will always stand you up.

jiminnie is he there yet??

you to my entire lack of surprise, no. i'm starting to wonder if this 'hoseok-hyung' of yours even exists tbh i should have been suspicious from the second you called him a 'friend' bc that implies that you HAVE friends

jiminnie ok RUDE. we're friends??

you suddenly i can't read

The two of you had been outrageously drunk after a night out on the town, once, and Jungkook had come to collect his tipsy boyfriend, and you'd seen the fond way he'd watched Jimin despite his messy behaviour— how he'd given Jimin a piggyback even though it must have been hard with the way Jimin had been squirming and laughing and kicking his legs back and forth— and your heart had squeezed tight in your chest. (You'd been so drunk.)

It had honestly been a slip of the tongue when you'd revealed to Jimin that you were kind of maybe feeling somewhat lonely, a little bit, potentially. You'd had one night stands and short flings but it's been a long time since you've been in an actual relationship, a long time since you've really clicked with someone. Maybe part of you had been missing it, that connection with another person. Normally you're fine with being single, but Jungkook and Jimin are so in love that it spills out from them and you guess in the moment you'd wanted to feel that, too.

You blame the alcohol. You also blame your own loose lips. And Jimin, you blame him too, for persuading you to go clubbing in the first place. You don't even remember what you'd said, waking up with a headache the weight and size of a tectonic plate, groaning at the pain of the morning light stabbing into your eyes, but with no recollection of your admittance that maybe you were tired of being single. Your best friend, however— despite having drunk more than you— could recall the previous night with crystalline clarity, much to your horror and embarrassment. And, because Jimin is Jimin, he'd latched onto what you'd said with the tenacity of a dog with a bone.

Fast forward to where you're sitting now, on yet another arranged date that he's planned for you— and once again, you've been stood up.

you i'm starting to wonder if any of the people you've tried to set me up with are even real

jiminnie omg they ARE you had a nice time with lisa??

Okay, so you hadn't been stood up for every date. Lisa had been the only person who'd shown up, and she was cute and friendly and you got on like a house on fire, but you'd very quickly found out that she was actually head over heels for her best friend Jennie. You being you, your first date had rapidly turned into you giving your new friend a pep-talk and hyping her up— and suffice to say you've been having weekly girl's brunches with Lisa and her now-girlfriend Jennie ever since. So, yes, technically you haven't been stood up every time, but still.

you yes, my ideal first date involves telling the other person that their best friend is definitely in love with them too :))

jiminnie I'VE ALREADY SAID THAT I'M SORRY :(

you LMAO it's fine, it's always nice to make friends but seriously minnie, like,, if your friends are going to stand me up, could you at least have had the decency to organise the date somewhere less fancy? i spent ages getting ready and noah fence it kind of feels like i just wasted a bunch of my time,,

Jimin doesn't fuck around. From the outside the bar, Dionysus, exudes a quiet aura of exclusivity. Inside, however, it has a surprisingly understated atmosphere despite its namesake being the Grecian god of Getting Turnt, the sleek interior paired with soft lighting and stylish fixtures, elegant.

Either way, it's the kind of place that warrants you actually pulling out the stops with your outfit and makeup; you rarely have a reason to doll yourself up like this and it makes a nice change of pace, but it seems like you shouldn't have bothered. What's the point in putting on a cute dress and nice heels, or doing your hair and opening your expensive Too Faced eyeshadow palette for the first time, if you're just going to be sitting alone at a bar all night? At least you don't stick out, which is good, you guess.

You are the only person who's alone, though. It's midweek and everyone else is seated around one of the tables, couples and groups that are engaged in quiet discussion or watching the show— there's a small stage where there's a quartet performing live music— but you're perched on one of the barstools, tapping away at your phone, alone. If anyone were to pay any attention it would be obvious that you've been stood up, but they're all too busy having an enjoyable evening to spare a glance at the girl sitting by herself at the bar.

The only person who's paying attention to you is the bartender. He's clearly good at his job, keeping an eye on you and making you feel welcome without seeming like he's hovering; he doesn't act like you're being an inconvenience, but you give him a hefty tip each time you order a new drink anyway. Hoseok might not be turning up tonight but if you've gone to the effort of dressing this nicely and getting a taxi here then goddamn you're going to make the most of it.

It takes forty two minutes and three virgin cocktails before the handsome bartender speaks to you, saying something beyond the customary back and forth you've had so far as he hands you your next mocktail.

"Are your friends usually this late?"

You let out a little huff of laughter. "Something like that." Normally you'd be more hesitant to speak to a stranger like this, but the bartender's eyes are warm and his smile seems genuine and from what you can tell, he's just making that sure you're okay. "Seems like it'll just be me for tonight."

"You're welcome to stay and wait as long as you like," he says, and you can't help but quirk a grin at him.

"I bet you say that to all the paying customers."

He laughs and raises his hands in surrender. "You got me." And then: "If you want another drink, just give me a shout. I'm Seokjin, but everyone calls me Jin."

"As in, Jin and tonic?" You smile. "Sure. I'll be sure to remember that. I'm Y/n."

"Nice to meet you, Y/n." Jin gives you a grin before disappearing down the other side of the bar to make drinks for some other customers. Your own smile slowly fades, and then turns into a frown, eyes landing on the clock on the wall; Hoseok is forty five minutes late at this point. (You know he's not going to show.) It's been so long that the musicians on the stage have finished their set and are leaving, a different performer about to step on, and you sigh. You'll finish this last drink and then you'll go.

You use your straw to stir the mint leaves and ice cubes around, muddling the flavours in your glass. You haven't really been paying attention to the music before now; you couldn't name the songs that have been performed so far, but they're common enough that you'd recognised the sound of them, the sort of music that most people could hum along to but probably wouldn't know the origin of. Easy listening. Pleasant, but nothing new. It's clearly more about setting a nice backdrop to the bar rather than music for music's sake. A background noise, rather than acting as the focal point of the bar.

You assume this is going to be the case for the next musician, and so you barely pay any mind as the he takes to the stage alone; you're looking down at your glass as he sits at the piano and puts his feet on the pedals and places his hands on the keys, but then, he starts to play.

Your eyes snap up. A chord hangs in the air, extended, haunting; a crescendo into a light melody; the chords dip, waters dark and deep while he weaves the higher notes with infinite softness, ebbing notes that fade into each other, his fingers dancing across the keys with grace and ease. You notice with a throb in your chest that he has no sheet music. He's pulling this music from inside him, his mind, entirely from his own memory.

His eyes are cast down as he watches his hands, but you can see how they slip shut whenever he tilts his head back, fringe hanging over them. His hair is bleached blond but he clearly hasn't been maintaining the look, with dark roots starting to show through. His posture is horrible, his spine a little curved as he slouches forward, and he's not dressed as sharply as the other musicians had been— there's no tie around his neck and he has a multitude of earrings in, rings on his fingers, changing his outfit into something a little messy and different and entirely unique.

He's fucking breathtaking.

Without realising, you've swivelled away from the bar to watch him. Your drink is still clutched in your hand but you pay it no mind, condensation gathering on the cold glass and dripping down your fingers the longer you sit there, ice cubes melting as he finishes his first song and moves onto the next. Same as the first, you don't recognise it, the melody echoing deep in your chest, speaking of some feeling that you can't put a name to, each sliding arpeggio and chord reaching inside you and hanging there, little glowing droplets that shine out like moonlight.

Each of his pieces are entirely different and yet they all feel like him, somehow. Strong and soft and lovely and aching. The water from your glass has pitter-pattered onto your lap, darkening the fabric of your dress in some nameless constellation, but you don't notice. Your world has narrowed down to: the sound of his music, the motions of his hands, the way he bends into the notes, him.

Your eyes trace his profile, the cat-like eyes, the round of his nose, the pout of his lips, falling into the way he lifts his chin and tilts his head; thoughtless, gorgeous.

You don't realise that it's over until it's over. The final notes hang in the air, crystallising, and then they fade. He finishes with little fanfare, tilting a polite nod at the audience that claps for him, and then he slips off the stage and is gone just as quickly as he had come. You blink, coming back to yourself; you feel like you're rising out of deep water, motions slow and heavy, and you don't know how long you've been sitting there, entirely entranced. You'd been too distracted to clap. You'd just sat and watched in silence as he'd turned to leave, barely sparing the room a glance.

"Good, isn't he?"

Normally you would have startled at Jin's sudden appearance. Instead you just blink again, still trying to shake off the daze you've found yourself in. "Yeah." Your voice is hoarse. You clear your throat and suck in a breath and put your drink down, dripping wetness that leaves a ring on the smooth wood of the bar, and try to speak normally this time, willing your voice to be level. "Yes. He's very good."

"Yoongi is here at the same time every week," Jin supplies, tone conversational, like he's just having a regular chat. Yoongi. His name is Yoongi. You wonder if Jin can hear how your heart is pounding, the galloping hooves of a wild horse that tumble in your chest. You try to keep your expression stoic as you look at him, scared that he'll be able to read what's written across your face— but he's smiling at you in the same way as before. Just a barkeeper who's trying to get a return customer. (Although, you'd swear there was a glint in his eye for the briefest moment, but then it's gone.) "He changes the set each time, if you're interested in coming back to hear something new."

Your mouth feels dry and you swallow, trying to wet your lips. Dionysus is too fancy of a place to ask customers for tips for the musicians, but— "Can I buy him a drink?"

Jin cocks his head at you. "A drink? For Yoongi?"

"Yes," you say. You feel a little shy when you spot his expression, biting your lip. "I just really enjoyed the music, and I'd like to tip him somehow? Is that a normal thing that people do?"

Jin pauses, and then smiles. This smile is a little wider than the ones he's given you before, different, but he seems pleased. "Who cares about what's normal? I'll get a drink to him. What would you like?"

"Um, whatever he prefers," you say. You figure that Jin would have a better idea about what that is than you, which is proven true by his almost instantaneous reply.

"He likes red wine, or whisky, neat. I think tonight is a whisky kind of night." He's already going through the motions of putting the drink together, and you slide him money as he begins to pour. You know nothing about Yoongi but you can't help but feel like the drink suits him— simple, classic, masculine. "Do you want me to pass on a message for you?"

"Um, you can just say that it's from someone who enjoyed the music, I guess?" You giggle a little, feeling awkward and off balance. Jin is looking at you like he's expecting you to say something else, but you just want to express your enjoyment of Yoongi's music and nothing more. You don't— you don't want to be weird, you just like the sound of his piano playing.

Jin disappears into the back with the glass of whisky, and you finish the watery remnants of your drink before you leave, ice cubes completely melted in the— wow— forty minutes that Yoongi had been playing. It hadn't felt that long at all.

It's not until you're stepping through your front door that you realise you haven't looked at your phone since before the beginning of Yoongi's set. Jimin's messages have been changing from apologetic to concerned to downright frantic.

jiminnie Y/N BLINK TWICE IF YOU NEED HELP

you how many times should i blink if i don't need help?

jiminnie omg you're ALIVE where were you?? i was starting to get worried

you sorry i got distracted! but i'm fine, i'm at home hoseok never showed

jiminnie yeah i know :(( he messaged me saying he had an emergency and couldn't make it tonight but he's free this weekend??

you … remember when i said that this was the last blind date i was going to go on?

jiminnie it doesn't count as a date if hyung never turned up!!!

you that isn't true and you know it omg minnie… i appreciate what you're trying to do but pls bb. let it rest

jiminnie i just want you to be happy :((

you i don't have to be in a relationship to be happy

jiminnie you said you were lonely!

you omg i was DRUNK let it GO besides being stood up by multiple blind dates isn't going to help me feel less lonely lmao i get that you're happy in your relationship with kookie and you want to spread that happiness but you don't have to!! i'm fine!! yeah i get lonely sometimes but what single person doesn't?? i'm happy being by myself hhhhh

jiminnie fine :(( but if you change your mind, hobi-hyung would still love to meet you!

As you kick off your heels, humming a bar of Yoongi's music to yourself, you think that Hoseok probably shouldn't bother holding his breath.

(That night, when you sleep, you dream of dark eyes and the press of a sinfully perfect cupid's bow against your own lips, a pair of large hands drawing noises from you like a glissando, rings cool against your heated skin.)

–

Wednesday nights become a ritual of sorts. You get dressed, do your hair, match your makeup to your outfit and shoes, coordinating your look into something that doesn't look out of place in Dionysus before you hop into a taxi and make your way to the bar.

You're a firm regular by now. Your seat has become just that, your seat, the same one you'd been sitting in the first time you'd been there; it's towards the dimmer lights at the back and so you're sitting further away from the stage than you might like, but at least you can see the whole room from here. You turn up twenty minutes before Yoongi's set and Jin always greets you warmly when he sees you: you've quickly come to enjoy your chats. Jin is always unashamedly himself and the two of you joke and laugh as he works, but he always knows to leave you alone as soon as Yoongi steps onto the stage.

For the next forty minutes the rest of the world fades away as you drink Yoongi and his music in, listen to the lilting notes he coaxes out of the piano, watch how his fingers rest on each key before he slides into his next piece, reverent.

You never ever explicitly mention Yoongi in your conversations with Jin, though. The bartender seems to bring the musician up anyway; he does it smoothly, in a way that's utterly casual, and he seems to know a surprising amount about someone who is, by all accounts, a very private person. (You're not complaining about the fact that you now know that Yoongi wears Kumamon slippers because his feet get cold easily— "he's cold blooded, like a lizard," apparently— but you do wonder how Jin knows that.)

The Yoongi that Jin describes is just as beautiful as the man you see on stage, but less mysterious, less distant— and yet he still intimidates you.

Jin might be his friend but to you Yoongi is unapproachable. Untouchable. To him you're just a nameless face in the audience, nothing more. His eyes will slide across the room before he starts his performance, but he never seems to notice you; it's no surprise, sitting where you do, in an area of relative darkness in comparison to the rest of the bar, and once he sits down he only looks at the piano under his hands. He has no eyes for anything else. You're far enough away and his lashes are cast so low that even when his eyes are open it's hard for you to see where he's looking, and the shadow of his fringe hides how his pupils scan his hands as he plays, anyway.

Every week, when the set draws to a close, Jin is already pouring Yoongi's whisky or wine and you slide him the exact amount of change. Every week, Jin asks if you want to pass on a message, and every week, you say the same thing: that it's from someone who enjoyed the music. And that's that. Jin will disappear to give Yoongi his drink and you'll finish your own drink in quiet solitude before you slide off your barstool to go home.

(The only thing that's changed over the weeks is that the music Yoongi plays seems to be a little lighter and— dare you say— happier? He still looks down at the piano with the same intensity, still lays his hands on the keys with the same delicate pressing weight before he begins to play— but with some songs he seems to be teasing the music out, flirting with each note, eyelashes fluttering as he lifts his chin and moves his hands.

You're not a musician by any means, so you don't know how to describe it with any sort of accuracy or terminology, but to you it's like the deep waters of Yoongi's music have been cut through with light, beams of sun rippling through the dark blue. You don't know what's caused this change, the slow uplift in his mood throughout the weeks, but you hope he manages to keep hold of it, whatever it is.)

Between work and studying and volunteering and making time to see friends, you don't often have time entirely to yourself, and so Wednesday nights are a rare moment of peace during your otherwise busy week. That's why when Jimin says that he's had to rearrange your weekly film night to Wednesday— because he and Jungkook are going down to Busan to see each other's families this weekend— you decline.

Jimin is rendered speechless and demands to know why.

"I'm busy," is your answer. Jimin doesn't buy it.

"You're never too busy for movie night," he says. "Wednesday is the only night we're all free."

"Well, I'm not free, Minnie. Sorry," you say. His head is in your lap, your fingers gently stroking his hair, and you can easily see the way his face contorts with disbelief as he stares up at you.

"Do you hear that, babe? Y/n is too busy for our weekly tradition." Jimin sounds scandalised.

Jimin is stretched out between the two of you— while his head is in your lap, his feet are in Jungkook's, the younger man idly massaging his boyfriend's ankles and feet. "Yes, babe, I heard," Jungkook says, indulgent.

"What's more important than movie night?" Jimin lifts one of his legs and Jungkook turns his attention to that one, digging his fingers into the arch of Jimin's foot. Jimin sighs in relief, but then turns the full force of his stare back at you. "We were going to watch Spirited Away. You love Spirited Away."

"I'm just busy," you say, and that had been your mistake. You should have had some sort of credible reason but you hadn't been prepared, and while he hadn't made it obvious at the time, Jimin had latched onto your vague excuse, sniffing out weakness like a shark with blood in the water. If you'd been paying attention you'd have noticed, but you hadn't paid attention and so you hadn't noticed. (Whoops.)

And so, Wednesday night that week is the same as always; Yoongi plays his music, you fall a little bit more in love, and pass your compliments to him with Jin as the mouthpiece. You go home, wash your makeup off, and arch into the touch of your own hand while imagining it's someone else's fingers sliding across your skin. Routine. Normal. Uninterrupted. Peaceful.

The next week, however, it all goes to shit.

Okay. Maybe that's a little dramatic. It's not as bad as all that. The night starts as normal: you're on your stool, and you have your drink, and you have ten minutes until Yoongi is due to play, shifting to get comfortable, crossing your legs.

But then:

"Oh my God, you're wearing your come fuck me heels," comes Jimin's voice from behind you, and your blood turns to ice.

You turn on the barstool so fast you almost fall off it. You come face to face with Jimin who has an expression of what can only be described as sheer delight on his face. He's even dressed appropriately for the bar, a silk shirt tucked into his Very Tight jeans and a subtle smoky eye to top it off; Jungkook looks nice, too, but you have no doubt that he's only here under sufferance, if the infinitely apologetic look on his face is anything to go by.

"Jimin?" Your voice comes out as a hiss. If you were a cat your back would be up and your hackles would be raised and all your fur would be on end, your entire body going into fight mode. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see for myself what was more important than movie night," Jimin says simply, like it's obvious. "So here we are."

"Sorry, Y/n," Jungkook apologises from over his boyfriend's shoulder. Jimin ignores him.

You can feel how your face is starting to flush, your skin crawling with embarrassment. You change your outfit every week and your friends have managed to turn up on the one week where you've cycled into what could probably be considered your most promiscuous one, the hem of your dress high and the cut of it low, along with shoes that Jimin had rightfully named as your Come Fuck Me heels. It wasn't because you were trying to seduce anyone but you only have so many items in your wardrobe that are appropriate for Dionysus.

"How did you find me?"

"I have my ways," Jimin says mysteriously.

"He stalked your Bitmoji on Snapchat. Ow." Jungkook pouts as Jimin slaps his arm. "Sorry, again. I said we should leave you alone but Jimin said we should check in case you'd been kidnapped because you never willingly go into bars."

You're interrupted by Jin, who'd been busy serving someone when your idiot friends had turned up; he leans across the bar and touches your shoulder and fixes Jimin and Jungkook with the most intimidating look you've ever seen on his face. You know Jin as a light-hearted pun master, harmless and goofy and approachable, a great friend— but right now he looks like some sort of beautiful guardian angel, broad shouldered and narrow eyed and honestly, pretty menacing.

"Are you alright?" He keeps his eyes on the other two men as he speaks. "Are these guys bothering you?"

Jimin, rather than looking cowed, looks like he's reached a stage of absolute euphoria, eyes darting between Jin's hand on your shoulder to your face. Jungkook's face, meanwhile, is doing that thing it does whenever someone issues him some kind of challenge, his sweetness abruptly being swallowed by his competitive side and his stubborn refusal to lose anything. You're the only person who has the power to save this situation before it goes absolutely tits up, and you swallow down a resigned sigh.

"I'm fine, thank you, Jin," you say, looking at him with a smile as you pat the hand on your shoulder. "Unfortunately these guys are my friends, much to my infinite suffering. Well, Jungkook's alright. Jimin is the one who's the pain."

"Hey," Jimin whines. Jungkook looks quietly pleased, but pretends to scowl when Jimin looks at him, offended on his boyfriend's behalf.

Jin still seems unhappy but pulls his hand back. "Alright," he says, but then he pitches his voice low so that only you can hear: "If you need any help, just ask me for a rum and soda, okay?"

You always order mocktails whenever you're here, wanting to stay completely sober so that you can enjoy Yoongi's playing with all the attention it deserves. You've never asked for anything alcoholic, least of all a rum and soda. Although you really are okay, you can't help but be warmed by Jin's concern for you and how he's offering you this careful, considerate lifeline in case you need it. "I will do. Thanks, Jinnie."

He smiles at you and then gives Jungkook and Jimin one final frown before going to deal with a gaggle of customers who've gathered at the other end of the bar. While Jungkook remains standing, taking in the interior of the bar with wide eyes, Jimin slides onto the stool next to yours.

"He's fucking hot," Jimin says with no preamble, eyeing Jin without shame as the bartender starts to pour and mix different drinks. Jungkook makes a disgruntled noise but settles when Jimin pats him fondly on the butt. "I'm not surprised you're wearing those heels. I would too if I were you."

"Oh my God, Jimin." You hide your face in your hands. "Jin is just a friend, please don't make this weird."

"Come on, Y/n, it's okay," Jimin says reassuringly as he pats your shoulder, replacing Jin's touch with his own. "The blind dates might not have worked out, but you've met someone nice so that's good! I mean, you did meet him because I organised the date here in the first place, but I'll let that slide. Also I can't believe you missed movie night because of a boy and you didn't tell me, but I'll let that slide too because I love you."

Park Jimin is your best friend. Park Jimin meddles in your life despite your protestations and isn't beyond being passive aggressive to get his way, but Park Jimin is also one of the nicest people you know and everything he does is because he loves you and will do whatever he thinks is necessary to reach his end goal of making you happy. He's magnanimous and kind and caring, and he also has absolutely the wrong idea right now, clearly under the impression that you're attracted to Seokjin and have been flirting with him for however many weeks it's been since you were meant to meet Hoseok here.

"No, seriously, Jimin, it's not Jin." You look at Jimin through the gaps in your fingers. "He's cute, yeah, but I don't come here because of him."

Your friend looks genuinely baffled, hand stilling on your shoulder. "Then why are you here?"

And, with perfect timing— as if your life is some badly written film or romantic drama— the clock ticks over to 8pm and Yoongi steps onto the stage. His hair is dark, blond replaced with black a few weeks ago, though it's still long enough that it hangs in his eyes; he looks a little ragged around the edges, a little messy, a little tired, and altogether beautiful. You want to touch the coolness of your fingertips to the dark circles under his eyes, want to press kisses across each of his bony knuckles, want to let your tongue settle in the hollow of his neck that shows each time he leans back and tilts his head up just so.

You hadn't even meant to but you'd turned away from Jimin the second you'd heard piano notes begin to play, drawn in by the sound like a moth to a flame. Jimin's hand falls off your shoulder and you hear him breathe out a quiet oh of realisation. You tear your eyes away from the sight of Yoongi at the piano and turn on your stool to face the bar again, gripping your glass with both hands, shoulders hunched.

"I like to watch him play," you say, and your voice is near a whisper, so as not to detract from the music.

"It's beautiful," Jungkook says, speaking before Jimin can say anything. His voice is quiet, too, not wanting to break over the sound of the piano.

And so you hear with absolute clarity as Yoongi shifts mid-song into something different and it startles you. Yoongi always varies his music, always has something new, but you've been here often enough that you had recognised the opening song— it was one of your favourites— and you know that he's cut himself off before finishing, soft melody jumping into the opening bars of something different, sharper, a little angry, maybe sorrowful. Something that pulls at you and demands your attention.

Of course you give it to him. You swing your head away from your drink to watch him once more, watch how his motions have changed, the way he surges forward and presses his weight into his arms and down into his hands, his fingertips, the keys. You turn your entire body at this point, settling in your usual position for when you watch Yoongi; you see how his head tilts and he shifts from a minor into a major key, the same notes and chords transformed from something pensive into something joyful as he leans away from the heavier hands he'd been forcing the keys down with.

"How long does this go on for?" Jimin asks.

"About thirty or forty minutes," you answer. Though you turn your head back over your shoulder so that Jimin can hear you, you keep your eyes fixed on Yoongi. It's probably entirely coincidental, the sudden change in his music coinciding with when you turned away from him and when you looked back. He's not playing for you, he's playing for the whole bar, and besides, he's been looking down at the piano the whole time. He hasn't been looking at you.

And yet. The idea that Yoongi has noticed you and wants you to watch him has something hot settling low in your belly.

Jimin leans forward so that his chin is on your shoulder, talking directly into your ear as his hands wrap around your waist from behind. "This is the guy?"

Yoongi finishes the song and you watch in captivation as he swallows and runs a hand through his hair before he starts the next one. He's never done that before. Fuck. "Yes. Yoongi's the guy."

"Do you wait until he's finished so you can speak with him?" Jimin asks, ever curious.

You pause. "No," you admit. "No, I've never actually spoken to him."

Jimin doesn't ask why you've been coming back to see a guy you don't know and haven't talked to. He just hums gently. Jimin is pushy but he's also understanding and empathetic and knows what to say, when to press forward and when to hold back. It's one of the reasons you love him so much.

Jimin lapses into silence as Yoongi starts the next piece. It's one you haven't heard before and it's a little fiercer than most of Yoongi's recent songs. Rather than each note sliding into the next, he hammers them out separately, each note a statement that builds into something larger, a provocation. A storm gathering above Yoongi's waters, threatening to pull you in, pull you under.

Behind you, you hear Jungkook and Jimin briefly murmuring to each other, then Jimin's hands slide from off your waist and you hear the sound of him shifting so that Jungkook can sit down, Jimin using his boyfriend's lap as a chair instead. You have to wonder if the barstools can actually support that kind of weight, but Jin doesn't come over to tell them off, so you figure it must be okay.

On stage, Yoongi's hands pause, an uncharacteristic caesura that breaks the flow of the notes he'd been stringing together before he resumes playing as if this hiccup had never occurred. To anyone else, it would sound like that break was meant to be there, but you know better. You know Yoongi had faltered.

No way.

No way?

He's paying attention to you.

(Oh, shit.)

No way.

You're suddenly so overwhelmed that you actually feel nauseous. You've been consumed with thoughts of Yoongi for weeks, had images of him playing you just as easily as he does that piano, thoughts of him laying you out bare beneath him, but the idea that Yoongi actually knows who you are? Is aware of you on some level? Wants your eyes on him?

Fuck.

It's too much.

You're already off kilter from Jimin and Jungkook's arrival— as harmless as their appearance was meant to be— and this is the cherry on top. You don't know if you can keep your composure right now and you need to get away from Yoongi before you end up walking onto the stage and pulling him off that stupid piano stool to show him exactly how much you enjoy his music.

"Jimin? Jungkook? How about you say we go to a club and get absolutely shitfaced?"

You haven't looked away from Yoongi in the time that you've said this, but you can just feel the confusion emanating from the men behind you.

"But you—"

"I thought—"

"We're already dressed up, aren't we? Besides, I still owe you for film night, so drinks are on me."

There's little argument from them after that. For the first time since you've been coming here you leave before Yoongi's set is done, slipping out of the bar without noticing Jin's confused gaze on you.

It's not until much later, once you've drunkenly fallen onto Jimin and Jungkook's couch, that the sober part of your brain whispers to you: you didn't buy Yoongi his drink.

(That night you dream of stormy skies and tattered sails and a capsizing ship. Once you wake, the memory of the dream quickly leaves you, and the last thing you remember is the sight of someone reaching towards you, pulling you out of the water, skin pale and head ringed with blond hair, a halo— and then you forget that too, slipping through your fingers like quicksand.)

–

Of course you go back to Dionysus the next week. You make Jimin promise that he won't turn up without warning again, and then you make Jungkook promise that he'll at least send you a heads-up message if Jimin changes his mind. Despite both these promises, after the debacle last week with your outfit, you've actually bought new clothes, so at least today you don't feel as scandalous. (You still look hot, though.)

You're grateful when Jin doesn't press you for details or ask why you left early last week. He just greets you like he normally does and predicts your order with his usual aptitude, and as you stir your drink with your straw, you have to wonder at what happened. You're probably overreacting, overthinking things, grasping at nothing; there is not a chance in hell that Min Yoongi, reclusive piano savant, has noticed you. No way. Nuh-uh.

He's probably only aware of your existence because of the repeated drinks you've had Jin foist on him. If anything he's probably annoyed at you after not tipping him with last week— he's probably come to expect them by now and you'd forced him to miss out. Maybe you'll get Jin to give him two drinks this week? Ooh, then again, maybe not. Is two shots of whisky a lot? People drink doubles, don't they. How strong is the wine he likes, anyway?

Yoongi's appearance on stage pulls you out of your thoughts. He makes his way up the steps, towards the piano, scans the room— and then for the first time since you've been coming here to watch him, he stops.

He stops because he's looking at you.

It's only for the briefest moment, eyes resting on you for maybe five seconds, and then you breathlessly watch as his mouth twists into something that can only be described as a smirk, pleased at the sight of you.

Oh, God.

He looks away and sits at the piano like he normally does, but you would swear that his back is a little straighter— something in his posture that reads as cockiness, even. He launches into a song that starts light but then almost immediately dances into something flirtatious, seductive, and tonight whenever Yoongi glances at you, he makes sure that you know. He turns his head just so, looks at you through the curve of his lashes, each touch of those dark eyes against your own sending little shivers through you, punching the breath out of your lungs.

You've always been entranced by Yoongi and tonight is no different. The minutes slide by as easy as water, liquid, music gliding over you like the rising tide, kissing your skin like the ebb and flow of the waves. It feels like he's barely started when his set is over and he's finished, standing up with as little ostentation as always before he vanishes off the stage.

You already have the money counted out before Jin has made his way over. You slide it towards him as he pours the whisky, but rather than asking if you have a message to pass to Yoongi, a look of consternation passes over his face.

"The price has gone up," Jin says, and you blink.

"Oh, that's no problem. How much is it now?" You're reaching for your purse to get more money out when Jin puts the whisky on the bar in front of you.

"No, don't worry, I'll just go out back and get the right change for you," he says. He says it with such confidence that it takes you a beat too long to realise that what he's just said makes no sense— why is he getting you change if you haven't even given him enough money? Isn’t there change in the till?— but by this point he's already gone, the staff door swinging shut behind him.

You tilt your head, beyond confused.

Someone chuckles from behind you, the sound quiet and low. "Ah, cute."

You twist in your seat to see who's talking and then freeze. Yoongi is standing right there, looking at you with his dark, dark eyes; it's the first time you've been subjected to the full intensity of his gaze, from this close, and your pulse picks up. He looks a little softer without the lights of the small stage throwing him into sharp relief but his aura is just as intense; your eyes dart across each feature of his face as you drink him in— the mess of his fringe hanging into his sharp eyes, the faintest freckle on his nose, his surprisingly cute cheeks, his pink mouth.

The mouth that's curving into a sly little smile, now, your eyes flying back up to meet his own.

"I'm guessing this is for me?" He points at the whisky. He takes it before you can answer, and there's something unfairly erotic about how he drinks it: the way he holds the glass, swirling the whisky over the chilled rocks inside; the way his mouth falls open as the tumbler touches his lips; the way his head tilts back as he lets the liquor flow into his mouth, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

You shamelessly watch him the whole time. He lowers the glass from his lips, still a little parted as he takes a breath in, and then he's looking back at you. You have to bite back a noise that's risen up in your throat, unbidden. Does he know how much he affects you?

You adjust your position on the barstool, thoughtlessly uncrossing and recrossing your legs as you regain your balance. Yoongi's eyes fly down to watch the motion and you're close enough to him that you see how his pupils dilate at the movement. A breath escapes your mouth, a little pant of air that you desperately mask as a cough as you try to calm the racing of your heart, the flood of arousal that's pulsing through you.

"I'm glad you like the whisky," you say, your voice steady despite how your legs feel like they're about to give out. (Thank god you're sitting down.) "I'm sorry to have deprived you of it last week."

Yoongi's shifted so that he's leaning against the bar. He's standing while you're still sitting and you have to tilt your head back to look at him. "You did seem like you were in an awful hurry," he says, a teasing lilt to his tone, and yet his voice is still so low, deeper than you'd imagined.

Despite the levity in his words there's something heavy in his gaze. "Oh?" You can't help but react to it, helpless and unable to resist. "You noticed me leaving?"

Yoongi's eyes sharpen. Hooked. "Of course," he says. "You're the only thing I pay attention to when I'm here. You have been from the first night you walked in."

Your breath catches in your throat. You hadn't expected Yoongi to say something so forthright, to be so direct, more used to coy flirtation from the other people you've met in the past; it's like you've been dipped in cold water, a shock to the system, bracing and invigorating and refreshing.

"Oh," you say, at a loss with how to respond. Yoongi seems pleased to have gotten this reaction out of you, the corners of his lips curving upwards in a self satisfied smile.

"Besides," he adds, "I find it flattering that not only do you come here every week to watch me, you always make sure to make your appreciation known, too." He lifts the glass up and takes another drink, but this time he keeps his eyes locked on yours as he does, gaze unwavering as he finishes his drink. The rocks tumble over themselves as he sets the glass down on the bar, lower lip wet with a drop of whisky that lingers; his tongue sweeps across it and leaves a sheen, catching the light, shining. You can't tear your eyes away from the sight. "It would have been hard to ignore that even if I'd wanted to."

A shiver trickles down your spine. You'd really only ever meant it as a compliment, a quiet way to express your admiration about his craft, and you have to ask— "How long have you been playing the piano?"

This question seems to throw Yoongi off kilter. You see the way his lashes flutter as he blinks with surprise. "For as long as I can remember," he says, and then a small smile appears on his lips. "When I was young I had a toy piano that I constantly used to hammer at, so when I grew up a little, my parents bought the real thing so that I could learn how to play."

He sounds nostalgic and your heart squeezes in your chest. "You're self-taught, right?" You ask, remembering something Jin had told you before.

Yoongi looks briefly startled. "Yes, I am," he says, and then his eyes narrow. "Did Jin tell you that?"

"Um, yeah." You squirm a little on the barstool. "Sorry, should I not have said anything about it?"

"No, no, you're okay. It's just that Jin says a lot of things, and I'm just wondering what else he said to you." Yoongi's tone is weirdly pained.

The concern is obvious on his face, and you wonder if Jin is to Yoongi what Jimin is to you— well-meaning but maybe a little overwhelming in their approach.

"All good things, I promise. I love dogs, too." You smile up at Yoongi, who seems a little taken aback, and the smile starts to drop off your face. "Um. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." For all that Yoongi was smirking earlier, he seems a little unsure now. You feel confused, waiting as Yoongi clearly turns some thoughts over in his head, and then he says: "What exactly has Jin told you?"

You smile. You recognise that tone, the nonchalance that hides a little worry— it's exactly how you sound whenever you find out that Jimin has been speaking to someone about you, even if it's always positively. "Oh, just bits and pieces," you say. Feeling bold, you pat the barstool next to you, tilting your head invitingly. "Why don't you tell me about yourself instead so we can see if Jin was lying to me?"

Yoongi looks genuinely startled, his eyes widening imperceptibly before the expression wipes off his face as if nothing had happened. "Why not," he says, as if in equal parts to himself and to you, before he takes a seat.

Here's what you learn about Yoongi: he's intense, yes, and soft spoken, but as you continue to talk, he begins to loosen up, bit by bit. When he laughs he smiles so wide that his eyes squeeze shut and you can see his gums and you're so fucking endeared at the sight. He's sharp and smart and witty and just so, so intriguing.

You prop your elbow on the bar and rest your cheek in your hand as he talks, wanting to take everything in, and you rapidly realise that Min Yoongi is less of an enigma than you'd thought, but just as complex as you'd expected— and you want to unravel that complexity. If he'll let you.

You've been talking for so long that the bar has started to empty out, patrons trickling away, the two of you so engrossed with each other that you barely notice. You find out that Jin and Yoongi are actually roommates, best friends, and that Jin is as chaotic as you'd expect and is also very good at drawing Yoongi into his shenanigans; you throw your head back to laugh at one of his stories, and when you catch your breath you find Yoongi looking at you, watching you with an expression on his face that makes you pause. He's been watching you intently all night, listening quietly whenever you talk, but this expression, this is new. He swallows.

"Can I ask something?"

You blink. "Sure, go ahead."

"Why did you keep coming back?" Yoongi asks, and that's not a question you'd been expecting at all.

"Uh," you say eloquently. "Well. Honestly? I couldn't stay away, I guess. I'm not really a musician, and I don't know a lot about the piano, but there's something in your music and the way you play— every song makes me feel something different and new, or reminds me of something I haven't felt, places I haven't been to, but I feel like I know somehow. Like I'm nostalgic for something that I haven't experienced, that doesn't exist. It's almost like you're taking my hand and showing me around some hidden part of the world that only you can see— like you've made it into music because that's the only way you can communicate it. How could I not come back after that?" You pause. "Um. Does that make sense? I feel like it didn't. Sorry?"

Yoongi's been watching you as you've been talking, silent, and by the time you've finished his mouth has fallen open a little. He stares at you for a few moments longer, and then he says: "Holy shit." And then he says: "Oh my God." And then he says: "What the fuck."

"… I guess it didn't make sense, then?" Despite the ease of your earlier conversation you suddenly feel awkward, laughing a little as your legs uncross so that you can shuffle to the edge of your barstool. Ready to hop up and make a quick get away if you need to. Run away from the embarrassment. "Um."

"Y/n," Yoongi says, and you realise with a start that you haven't introduced yourself to him throughout your whole conversation— Jin must have told him your name— but then he keeps talking. "I thought you just— I don't know, that you just kept coming back because of me. Not the music. Then Jin kept talking about you and—"

He makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat and runs a hand through his hair; you stare at his bared forehead, and it says about how attracted you are to him that the sight of his forehead is enough to set your heart racing. "I thought that maybe if I let this happen just one time that it would be enough, but now I don't think it will."

"Yoongi." You're confused, unsure if you've correctly understood what he's just said. "Let what happen one time? What are you talking about?"

"Touching you," Yoongi says. "Fucking you." His voice is a rasp and the sound of it, the sound of his words, shoots straight through you and into your core. "I thought the drinks were— I don't know, an invitation. But they weren't, were they? You really meant it. You really like my music. And me."

Yoongi's voice is hoarse and you come to the realisation that he feels tense. Like he can accept that you want to have sex with him, but he's bowled over by the idea that you're attracted to the other parts, too, as few of those as you know. That you genuinely enjoy what he plays. That you think it's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

"Yoongi," you say, tone deceptively gentle. "I really, really like your music, and I think you're an incredibly talented musician, and I've been memorising everything Jin's been telling me about you because I think you're one of the most interesting people I've ever come across and I'd really like to get to know more about you. So I'm really glad to have had the opportunity to talk to you like this." You gesture between the two of you, sitting as you are, facing towards each other on your barstools. And then you brace yourself to take the leap, to throw yourself into uncharted waters. "However, I am also insanely attracted to you and I've spent the past I-don't-know-how-many weeks picturing you bending me over that piano and fucking me so hard that I can't walk straight."

Yoongi freezes in the middle of rubbing the back of his neck, a clearly nervous habit. Though your voice has kept steady while you've been talking, your heart has been thrumming in your chest the whole time, feeling as nervous as Yoongi looks. Something flickers across his face, and his hand drops away from his neck as he straightens, pushing himself off from where he's been leaning against the bar.

"Oh?" He leans towards you. Your legs unthinkingly part as he moves, the material of your dress hitching up as you spread your knees so that he can get closer. "So you do want me to fuck you?"

His nervousness seems to be entirely gone, emboldened by your words. One of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head, fingers sliding into your hair as he holds you in place, at his mercy. He's barely touched you but the feeling of contact makes you bite back a whimper. Even though it's darker here and you're away from the tables, away from the few remaining patrons of the bar, the two of you are in plain sight even under the dimmed lights; you're not doing anything illicit or inappropriate but a little thrill trickles down your spine at the idea.

"Yoongi," you breathe.

"What is it, babygirl?" He tips his head down as he moves closer, his nose brushing yours, each of his words a warm curl across your lips. "Tell me."

The pet name sends a shiver through you. Your hands rise from your lap, sliding over his chest to touch lightly at his neck, a little shy, a little bold. "I want you to kiss me."

"Oh?" Yoongi's mouth is so close to yours, and when you tilt forward to kiss him, he stays just out of your reach, leaving you wanting. "You think you deserve a kiss, do you?"

You can't help but make a little noise, a petulant whine at the back of your throat. He has you entirely at his mercy and he knows it. "Please," you say. "Please, Yoongi, wanna kiss you so bad."

The smile he gives you in reply is wicked. "How can I say no when you've asked so politely?"

Yoongi finally, finally dips his head down and then he's kissing you with such intensity it steals the breath out of you. It's open-mouthed and wet and dirty, his tongue sliding into your mouth in between taking your top and bottom lips between his own, alternating, sucking on them and lapping at them with his tongue. You chase after his mouth with your own, roll your tongues together, hands sliding over the smooth skin of his throat as they circle behind his neck, but then Yoongi pulls away; you bite that needy whine back again, kiss cut short far sooner than you would have liked.

Yoongi is taking the sight of you in, eyes lingering on your shining lips, and then he's rising to stand. You're shaken out of your kiss-induced haze when he does, a little confused, but he takes your hand in his and you let him lift up, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to the back of your knuckles.

"Do you want to get out of here?" His voice is pitched low, deep with a promise of pleasure to come, and you shiver.

"God, I thought you'd never ask," you say in a rush, and he just laughs quietly at your obvious desperation.

"Come on, then." He helps you off the barstool, your hand still in his— god, his hands are so big and his touch is so warm. His eyes are dark as he watches the way you reach to rearrange the hem of your dress with your free hand, but he beats you to it, palm flattening the material against your legs; his fingers dance just under the edge as he straightens it, hand sliding over the skin of your inner thigh and lingering before he pulls away.

"You're shameless," you say, a little breathless, and Yoongi just smirks at you. Tease.

Your fingers remain tangled with his as he leads you behind the bar and through the staff door. Jin's out back, scrolling through something on his phone, but as soon as you walk in he abandons whatever he's doing and raises his eyebrows. He looks surprisingly severe. "Customers aren't allowed back here."

Your eyes widen, but then Jin's serious expression cracks and he starts to laugh. Although he's joking and clearly doesn't care, you feel a little guilty at breaking the rules and duck behind Yoongi, shy. Yoongi snorts and holds a middle finger up at the bartender.

Jin gasps theatrically, clutching his chest while looking askance. "I raise you from birth and this is the thanks I get?"

"You're one year older than me, hyung."

"I carry you in my womb for nine months and birth you into this world and you— oh, okay, you technically shouldn't be doing that either," Jin says, stopping mid-sentence as Yoongi decides his hyung has been talking for too long and turns away from him to start kissing you again, shameless as he tugs you close to him and licks into your mouth; you immediately fall back into him, unable to resist. "Jesus Christ, Yoongi."

Once you part, you bury your head into Yoongi's chest as his arms come around you, hiding your embarrassment in Yoongi's dress shirt. "Sorry, Jinnie," you say, muffled.

"You are absolutely not to blame here, Y/n, you are an angel and a sweetheart." Jin's tone is soothing. "Yoongi, however, is a tiny evil gremlin who needs to learn how to control himself. Though I can't blame him, you are very cute."

"Hyung, I need the apartment tonight," Yoongi says without preamble. You wriggle in the circle of his arms. You're not normally this timid but Yoongi is just so direct and blasé with Jin that you can't help but feel a little shy, as hot and bothered as you are.

"I'll crash at Joon's," the bartender says. He’s obviously not surprised. You lift your head from Yoongi's chest to look at Jin and find that he's smiling at you. "If Yoongi starts to bother you, just whap him on the nose. I find a rolled up newspaper works best if you have one to hand."

"I'll kill you, Kim Seokjin," Yoongi says.

Jin just laughs as he waves the two of you off and you take the initiative to start pulling Yoongi towards the back door. He comes easily, but once the door has swung shut behind you he takes the lead again and guides you towards his car. He lets go of your hand so that he can unlock it, swinging the passenger door open for you, and he's unabashed in how he watches you step in and eyes the way your dress hitches up again as you slide into your seat; he leans against the car and just stares at you.

There's honestly nothing sexier when someone clearly wants you as much as you want them. It makes you feel bold, drunk on the way he looks at you.

You glance up at him through your lashes. "The sooner we get to yours, the sooner you can have me," you say.

Yoongi curses under his breath. "You're going to be the death of me."

Surprisingly enough, though, he keeps his hands to himself when he gets behind the wheel. You can't help but feel a little surprised; you don't know how close Yoongi's home is to the bar, but you very rapidly tire of waiting to feel his hands on you again and so you lean over the centre console and press a fleeting kiss just behind his ear.

Yoongi doesn't outwardly react, continuing to stare at the road, so you take this as a challenge. You slide one of your hands onto his thigh— for balance, of course— and kiss behind his ear again, tug his lobe with your teeth, mindful of his piercings, and then proceed to trail little kisses down his neck and the little slither of his collarbone that you can reach without his shirt getting in the way. You finally get to lick your tongue in the hollow of his neck that you've been thinking about for weeks.

Yoongi's hands tighten on the steering wheel. Jackpot.

"Y/n," he says, voice low, and you're so close to his throat that you can hear the rumble behind his words. You love it. "You should stop now, or we're not going to make it to my apartment."

You go still. Yoongi continues to look at the road but his knuckles are white with how hard he's gripping the wheel, and when you glance down you can see how much you've affected him, cock hardening in his slacks. It would be so easy to slide your hand up his thigh and finally touch him, have him pull over and wreck you, but you want something more than a quick fumble in the seat of a car.

So you just press your lips lightly against the line of his jaw one last time. You let yourself breathe in the dark scent of his cologne— pinewood and pepper and something deeper— before you pull back, folding your hands in your lap demurely, trying to force yourself to be content with waiting.

"Good girl," Yoongi says. You can't help but preen; you don't normally respond to praise like this, but something about Yoongi just makes you want to please him, hear him compliment you again. Yoongi glances at you, a little flicker of realisation as he sees how you've just reacted to his words, and his eyes darken. "You like that, baby? Like being a good girl for me?"

Fuck. "Yes." Your pulse is rising. You've been craving Yoongi for weeks, but god, if he asked you to go home right now, sent you home without touching you, you'd go, just to hear him call you a good girl again. But you don't want him to leave you untouched, you don't want that at all. "I want you to touch me, Yoongi," you say. "I'll be a good girl, please just touch me."

"Fuck." Yoongi's foot presses down on the accelerator. He's never wanted to live closer to the bar before, but the sight of you staring at him from his passenger seat and rubbing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to give yourself some relief is making him rethink his housing location. "I will, baby. We'll be there soon."

Soon turns out to be less than five minutes, scarcely any time at all, though each second is torturous in how long it feels. Yoongi's careless in how he parks the car, wonky within the lines of his spot, but neither of you notice or care. You fumble with the buckle of your belt, climbing out of the car as quickly as you can and slamming the door shut with more power than you probably need to, noise loud in the quiet of the night.

Before you can react, however, Yoongi is rounding the car and grabbing you, pressing you against the metal and glass of the door. One of his hands slips under your thigh, lifting your leg and shoving the hem of your dress out of the way so that he can grind against you; you gasp at the feeling of his growing hardness against the dampness of your underwear, and Yoongi leans forward to swallow the sound into his mouth.

The kiss is rushed and desperate, but you love the messiness of it. Yoongi pulls away to press his lips against the side of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, mouthing at the jumping pulse he finds there. You start to make small ah-ah noises when he laves his tongue over it, one of your hands tangling in his hair as you tilt your head back, each of his touches fizzing like electricity on your skin.

"P-people could see," you stutter, struggling to catch your breath with how good his mouth feels on you.

Yoongi smirks against your skin. "I thought you wanted me to touch you," he says, but immediately relents, pulling away from you so he can lead you into the building. You miss the heat of his body against yours but he keeps hold of your hand as you follow him; it's late and the building seems quiet, so you're mindful of just how loud your high heels sound as they clack on the floor, though Yoongi doesn't seem to care.

When you step into the apartment you reach down for the straps on your shoes so you can kick them off but Yoongi stops you with a hand to your shoulder. It's a light touch but you stop immediately, glancing up from your feet to his face.

"Let me," he says, and a hot trickle of arousal runs down your spine at the tone of his voice.

You straighten up and watch as Yoongi gets down on one knee, hands circling around your ankle and lifting your foot. You rest the toe of your shoe lightly on Yoongi's knee, watching as he undoes the strap around your ankle and slides the shoe off, setting it to one side, before he presses his lips to the inside of your knee. You shiver at the light touch and Yoongi smirks, letting your ankle go so you can move and he can take your other shoe off, too.

He barely takes his eyes off your face the whole time, only glancing down when he has to. His motions are slow and unhurried despite his earlier rush, carefully setting the second shoe next to the first, and you can't help but feel like he's teasing you— drawing out your reactions just because he can. Before you can say anything about it, though, his hands trail up from your calves to your thigh before he hitches your leg over his shoulder, one hand staying on your thigh as the other grips at your hip.

You bite back a gasp. From his angle Yoongi can see everything and he's looking up with hooded eyes, staring at the dark patch on your underwear, wet for him; his gaze trails across the lace of the lingerie you're wearing, the small colourful flowers blooming across the dark material. It was something you'd put on to complete your outfit, the matching panties and bra making you feel expensive and pretty— even if you hadn't expected anyone to see it.

"Look at you," he says, hand lowering from your hip to trace lightly across your slit; it's a barely-there touch, sensation dulled by the material in the way, but you still jolt at the feeling of it. "Did you wear this for me?"

"Of course," you confess. You've wanted his eyes on you for so long. "Always dress up pretty for you."

"Fuck." He sounds reverent. "You've always been such a good girl for me, haven't you?"

A needy noise rises unbidden at the back of your throat when Yoongi spreads your leg wider and leans forward to mouth at you through the lace of your panties. Your knees go weak and you have to lean back against the wall for balance, grateful at how close you are to it when Yoongi draws his tongue upwards, wetting the fabric, your toes curling.

"Yoongi." One of your hands is resting in his hair and you can't stop your grip from tightening. "Yoongi, please."

He gives you what you want, fingers hooking into your underwear and pulling it down; he lets your leg drop so that you can step out of them, but as soon as you've finished he throws the panties to one side, one hand splaying across your stomach as the other lifts your leg again so that you’re spread open for him, immediately pressing his mouth to your clit.

"Oh!" You gasp. Yoongi seems to have tired of his teasing and is eating you out like a man starved, the slick sound of his tongue and lips filling the apartment as he laves attention on your dripping pussy, staring up at you as he drinks your reactions in. He dips his tongue into you and your hips try to buck forwards but the hand on your stomach holds you in place, firm, and you let out an embarrassingly loud keen at how good it feels to be this powerless.

You slap your free hand across your mouth and try to swallow the noise down. Yoongi frowns and stops, leaning his head back as he looks at you; his mouth is shining with evidence of your arousal, opalescent. "I want to hear you."

You bite your lip, forcing your hand away from your mouth; you don't want to be too loud, too noisy, but you want to be a good girl for Yoongi. He wants to hear you so you'll give him what he wants.

"O-okay," you breathe, and Yoongi smirks up at you; it's filthy, how he's looking at you like that while his lips are wet with you. You tilt your hips towards him, desperate to have his mouth on you again, and he immediately complies.

He's lapping at your clit when the hand on your stomach moves and slides down. You watch as he takes his tongue off you so that he can curl it around his fingers instead, before running those fingers across your lower lips to gather the slick there, wetting them even further. You roll your hips into the sensation, loving the press of his slightly rough fingers against your silken folds, wanting more, eyes wide as you watch how Yoongi's hand trails between your legs.

He puts his mouth back on your clit at the same time as he presses one of those spit slick fingers into you. You're so turned on that the initial slide in is easy, but he still takes his time; he's distracting you with the way he's sucking at your small bundle of nerves but you still feel when he presses his second finger in, longer than yours, the sensation of it even better than you'd dreamed.

He crooks his fingers and you throw your head back against the wall, dull thud barely registering over the sensation of Yoongi inside you. He sees how you react and continues to move his fingers in the same way, thrusting his fingers in and curling them as he pulls out, watching as you writhe; the pleasure inside you has been growing, the feeling building, and if Yoongi keeps doing that then you're going to cum. "I'm close," you gasp.

Yoongi responds to this by pushing a third finger inside you, rubbing his fingertips directly over your sweet spot. The stretch burns, just a little, but God, you love it. He purses his lips over your clit and flicks his tongue over it at the same time as he curls his fingers again and it undoes you; your spine arches away from the wall as you cum, ripples of pleasure sparking through your body as you tighten around Yoongi's fingers, sobbing almost deliriously at how good it feels.

Yoongi watches you the whole time, keeps his mouth on you as you ride out your high. He only moves away when you start to jolt from oversensitivity, pulling his fingers out carefully as he does. You feel empty without them inside you and you can't wait for him to fill you up with something better instead.

Yoongi holds you steady, his grip firm as you slip your leg from his shoulder and shakily push yourself off the wall. Once you've gotten your balance he stands up— his knees must hurt but he doesn't complain, too busy watching you lift his fingers to your lips, sucking them into your mouth so you can lick the taste of yourself off him.

"Jesus Christ." Yoongi stares at the way you flick your tongue across his skin, glancing at him coquettishly through your lashes. You reach out for him, hands moving towards his belt, but he shakes his head. "Bedroom," he says.

Of course you follow him. At any other time you'd be taking in the details of the apartment, the glimpses you get into the other rooms, but you're too busy looking at Yoongi to have a mind for anything else. He's been hard for so long by now that it must be driving him crazy and you want to give him what he wants. What he needs.

He swings a door open and flicks a light on. Yoongi's room is what you'd expected: neat and organised, with dark furnishings, the only mess being a few scrunched up balls of paper that have overflowed the trash-bin by his desk, which has a pile of notepads next to his laptop and a set up of musical equipment that looks far too complex for you to make heads or tails of.

You forget about this instantly, however, when Yoongi captures your lips in another kiss, a hand splaying across your jaw so that he can control the pace, crowding you towards the bed until the back of your knees make contact with it and you fall onto the mattress. Yoongi cages you in with his arms and keeps kissing you, though when you palm him through his slacks he hisses through his teeth.

"Want you, Yoongi." You use your hand to stroke over the hardness of him as you nip at his lower lip. "Please."

"Fuck, of course, babygirl." Yoongi leans back and you move with him, sitting up as he stands straight. He unbuttons his shirt and you help him slide it off his shoulders, using it as an excuse to run your hands over the pale skin he reveals to you, sliding your palms down his chest and over his stomach; you dip your head to kiss where your hands have traced, letting your tongue flick across his skin. You lick shamelessly at one of his nipples and feel drunk on the way he lets out a surprised little breath, turning your head to do the same to his other nipple as your hands finally reach their goal: his belt.

You deftly unbuckle it, fast enough that the leather makes a snapping noise when you pull it, and Yoongi bites back a laugh— under normal circumstances you might be embarrassed by how obvious you're being, but you're desperate to finally touch him, especially after he'd made you cum as hard as he had. You look up at him as you reach for his zipper but falter when you notice that he's staring at you with something akin to awe, lifting your lips off his skin.

"What?" You ask, suddenly feeling shy.

Yoongi doesn't respond verbally. Instead, he quirks a little grin at you before he cups your face with both hands and bends down to kiss you again, deeper and slower than he has before. You match his pace, the two of you tilting your heads to get a little closer, but when you continue to pull Yoongi's zip down he laughs against your lips and you smile. He gets the hint, stepping back so he has room to kick his trousers and underwear off; he's not trying to be sensual about it, moving fast so he can get close to you again, but you're enraptured nonetheless.

You swallow at the sight of his cock when it’s finally freed. It's flushed red from neglect, fully hardened, curving up towards his stomach, and you can see how the head glistens with precum, slick and wet. Saliva floods your mouth. Yoongi looks briefly startled when you put your hands against his hips and lightly push him backwards, but then you slide off the bed and onto your knees in front of him and the shock immediately disappears from his face, tangling a hand in your hair as you settle in place.

He's so hard that you don't feel like teasing him. Instead, you take the precum that's gathered at the tip of his cock and rub it down his length, hand wrapping around and twisting as you dip forwards and take the flushed head into your mouth. You can't swallow him all the way down, thanks to your gag reflex, but you give it a damn good go— you relax your throat as much as you can as you lower your head, using your hand to touch the parts of his cock that aren't in your mouth. You tongue at the vein on the underside as you lift back up, using your free hand to cup his balls, and Yoongi curses, his hand tightening in your hair as he pulls you off.

You blink up at him in surprise, mouth still open after he's slid out of your mouth— you feel like you'd barely started— and you can see how his cock twitches as he drinks the sight of you in.

"That mouth of yours is downright sinful," he says, running his thumb over your lower lip. You go lax under his touch, which seems to please him. "As much as I'd like to cum down your throat, I think you want something else instead, don't you, babygirl?"

Your breath shudders out of you and you nod. You want Yoongi's cock inside you, itching for him to finally fuck you stupid, the way you've been yearning for so long. "God, yes, please."

Yoongi's lips twitch at your shameless desperation. "Stand up then, baby," he says, and you comply. "Turn around."

You turn towards the bed to show Yoongi your back, and he slowly unzips your dress; it slides off your shoulders easily, slipping down your body and pooling on the floor as Yoongi drags his hands over the revealed skin. You tremble under his touch, sensitive to each of his motions as he unclasps your bra, and finally you're entirely unclothed, lingerie carelessly tossed to one side before Yoongi pulls you close.

Your back is pressed to his chest, and you can feel the heat and hardness of his cock pressing against you, but you forget about that when his hands move to cup your breasts, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. You tilt your head back against his shoulder and he takes the opportunity to kiss down your neck, using his tongue to lick down the bared length of it, and your breath hitches in your throat as he pinches one of your nipples between his fingers, the perfect mix of careful roughness.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Yoongi breathes into the crook of your neck. You whimper and grind back against him, feeling the wetness of his cock as it slips against your skin, and he bites back a groan.

"Yoongi, I need you," you say, so close to finally getting what you've been craving for so long. "Please," you add, voice high with desperation.

You feel how Yoongi bares his teeth against your skin in a silent snarl before he's turning you around in his arms, and you squeal in surprise as he hitches you upwards onto the bed, your head falling onto the pillows. It wasn't a rough motion, Yoongi still careful even when he's clearly as hungry for you as you are for him, but you find yourself whimpering at how he's manhandled you, loving it. Seems like he's helping you discover things about yourself that you hadn't realised before now.

Yoongi settles between your legs, staring down at you, bare and helpless underneath him. You reach out your hand to touch his chest, sweeping your fingers down the line of his stomach and over the trail of dark hair that leads down to his weeping cock, still shining with your spit. He curses, leaning over you to paw at his nightstand drawer; he fumbles with the lube and condom when you wrap your fingers around his length again, stroking him hard and slow.

"Yoongi, please," you say again, practically begging, wanting him inside you as quickly as possible. He curses under his breath again but then wraps his fingers around yours, pulling your hand off his cock. You pout at him. "I've been a good girl, haven't I?"

"Good girls are patient." Yoongi leans back on his heels and you make a small whining noise, but you quieten when you watch him rip open the condom packet; you reach forward again to help him roll it down his cock, wanting to keep the feeling of his hardness and heat under your touch, but he fixes you with a stern gaze. "Hands."

You pause, wondering exactly what he means. You settle on pulling your hands away and stretch up to let them rest on the pillow above you. You must have done the right thing because Yoongi smiles, and you give a squirm of delight. He shifts closer and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, turning his head to kiss your inner ankle.

"So perfect," he says, and you squirm again, pleased. He reaches for the bottle of lube and uncaps it with a quiet click, drizzling it directly onto his cock and biting back a noise at the coldness of it— but then he squirts more into his hands, warming it between his fingers. You make a small questioning sound, and Yoongi smiles before kissing your ankle again. "This is for you, baby."

Your eyebrows raise in quiet surprise. You're already so wet, dripping with a mix of your own cum and Yoongi's lingering spit, but he's still being this careful and considerate. He dips his slick fingers between your flushed lips and draws them upwards, making you arch your back as he grazes over your pearl of nerves, pleasure shooting directly into your core.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp. "God, please, Yoongi, please."

"I've got you, babygirl," he murmurs, and you marvel at his self control, his restraint even now. He grips your leg with one hand and uses the other to guide himself into you. Finally. You moan as he sinks in, stretching you, slowly pushing in inch by inch; you can feel the way your walls stretch, parting for him, until he's bottomed out, and you feel so full.

"Holy shit, Yoongi." You've moved your hands and you're digging your nails into his back, trying to pull him closer even though it's not possible, Yoongi's cock so long that you can feel it filling you completely. "Oh, God."

Yoongi's fringe is hanging in his eyes but you can see how his pupils have almost swallowed the dark of his irises, the way he's drinking in the sight of you beneath him— your pupils are blown too, hair a messy halo against the pillows, nipples hard from arousal, chest heaving as you hiccup in air. He pulls out, just as slowly as he'd pushed in, the drag of his cock against your inner walls sending electricity shooting through your nerves; he stops before he's completely out, only the head of him still inside you, and you bite your lip in anticipation, waiting for the next slow thrust in.

You're completely blindsided when Yoongi snaps his hips forward suddenly, fucking sharply into you, and you choke on a surprised breath. He sets a brutal pace, the sound of his skin slapping against yours almost drowned out by the way you wail. Your hands fall away from his back and to the sheets, fingers gripping at them, twisting under your hands. His brows are drawn together with focus, but when you raise a hand up to touch his face he goes easily, letting your leg slip off his shoulder so he can kiss you.

His motions slow somewhat as you kiss each other, but he keeps the roll of his hips just as deep, and you end up all but panting against his mouth instead of kissing him; he swipes his tongue across your lips and you let them fall open so he can lick into your mouth, sloppy and wet. You can feel an orgasm building again, surprisingly fast— especially as he's not even touching your clit— and you clench around him, wanting to hit that peak again.

Yoongi stops kissing you to rest his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes as he slows his thrusts, grinding into you each time he pushes all the way in, hips flush with yours. "Such a good girl." His voice is a low rasp, dark and heavy. "So pretty for me."

Yes, yes, yes. "Wanna be your good girl," you breathe. "Make you feel as good as you make me feel."

Yoongi actually growls, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you up. You grab his shoulders for support, legs spreading so that your knees hit the mattress, his cock still inside you as you look down at him, both of you kneeling now. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, stomachs flush, and Yoongi grinds up into you. His hands slide from your waist, to your ass, fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you up; the change of angle has the curve of his cock dragging right across your sweet spot and you gasp. "Oh, yes, there, just like that."

You press down as Yoongi's hips snap up, and you can feel how his motions are starting to get a little jerkier, staccato, the way he speeds up. With the drag of your nipples against his chest, and the way he's hitting your g-spot dead on each time, you're close to hitting your peak, pleasure riding up into a crescendo— and then Yoongi slides one of his hands between the two of you to rub at your clit and you're gone again, gasping and shaking as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, all the air escaping your lungs in a drawn out, shuddering wail.

"Fuck, baby." Yoongi's motions grow a little more hurried and sloppy, thrusting up into you as your walls pulsate around him. You try to match his pace, drinking down the way his face twists as he chases his own release— and then his grip on you grows tight enough to bruise and he cums with a surprisingly quiet moan. He grinds upwards, his cock twitching inside you as he empties himself into the condom; you shiver at the sensation, squeezing your legs around his hips in an instinctive attempt to draw him as deeply into you as possible, as futile as that is.

Your legs are shaking. You remain tangled around each other, sweaty and panting, but then Yoongi is grasping your chin and tilting your head down so that he can kiss you. It's soft, and gentle, and you melt into it, going lax and boneless in his hold as you tighten your hands in his hair.

You feel how he smiles tiredly against your lips, and when you pull back, he looks thoroughly fucked out; his hair is a mess from how you've been running your hands through it and lips are kiss swollen, parted so that he can suck air in and try to catch his breath. You must look similarly wrecked. You feel hazy, though Yoongi feels solid beneath you, grounding you as you slowly come back to yourself.

"I'm going to lean you back, beautiful," he says, and you entwine your fingers together behind his neck so that he can tilt you onto the mattress, careful and reverent. He slips his softening cock out of you and you let out a small sigh at the sudden feeling of emptiness, though as soon as he's done tying the condom off and throwing it in the bin he comes back to you, lightly kissing you as he draws a hand gently between the valley of your breasts. Despite the tenderness behind the motion you're suddenly struck with wondering if he's about to ask you to leave, but then he asks: "Do you want to come wash up?"

You pause. "Oh, God, my makeup," you say with sudden realisation as your fingers come up to touch under your eyes. Your eyeshadow and mascara must be a mess by now. You splay your hand across your face, as if trying to hide it— which you know is stupid, especially considering the fact the rest of your body is naked under Yoongi's gaze. He huffs out a laugh and takes your hands with his own, pulling them away. "Nooo," you whine. "Don't look at me."

One of Yoongi's eyebrows rises. "Why would I ever want to look away from you?"

You wriggle. "Yoongi," you whine again, equal parts pleased and embarrassed, but you let your hands go limp and Yoongi pulls you to your feet. "You're shameless."

"And you're gorgeous," he says, simply. "Come on, you'll get cold."

Yoongi lets you clean up first. It's weird how comfortable you are as you navigate your way around Yoongi and Jin's bathroom— you pilfer one of Jin's makeup wipes to clean your face— and how natural it feels to accept the shirt Yoongi gives you, an oversized, stretched-out old thing that's gone soft from years of wear. You're perched on the bathroom counter as you slide it on, glancing down at the design on the front, and you instantly perk up when you see what it is.

"You do love Kumamon," you say with delight.

Yoongi stops in the middle of brushing his teeth, looking a little ridiculous with the minty froth around his lips but still just as kissable. He rinses his mouth and spits, wiping his lips with a towel before he makes a face at you.

"Jin told you about that, too?"

"I want to see your slippers," you say in reply and Yoongi groans. You can't help but giggle, feeling sleepy and soft and affectionate, and you touch your fingers under Yoongi's chin so that you can press a quick kiss to his lips. "I think it's cute."

By the time you've both finished your ablutions and you slide off the counter, you feel tired, what little energy you had after being fucked by Yoongi completely gone from you; you slide onto Yoongi's bed gratefully, glad to be off your feet. You hold your hands up and beckon for him to join you, but then let out a sharp laugh of surprise when he tugs his rumpled blanket off the bed from underneath you and lets it drop to the floor. "Yoongi!"

"I'll be right back," he says. While you wait, you decide to stretch, eyes slipping shut as you extend your limbs. You know you'll feel the ache between your legs tomorrow, a little thrill skating through you at the knowledge that Yoongi's touch has left a physical reminder, something only you can feel and no one else can see.

When your eyes flutter open again, you see Yoongi standing at the bottom of the bed, a different blanket gathered in his arms. He's staring at you, and you realise that the material of his shirt has moved as you've stretched, hitching up over your hips. Even though you're both tired, Yoongi's eyes still darken when you shift your legs, and you bask under his attention.

"A different blanket?" You ask, curious, and Yoongi's eyes slide away from your still-bare core back up to your face.

"It's Jin's," he says. "I wasn't about to let you sleep on sweaty sex sheets."

"I don't mind," you say, honestly, but Yoongi proceeds to lay Jin's blanket across the bed anyway. "Jin's not going to be happy about this," you add, but you say it with a laugh, instantly curling up into Yoongi when he lays down beside you.

"He'll live." Yoongi's arm comes around you, fingers trailing over your shoulder; you lapse into silence and let your eyes shut, focusing on Yoongi's movements. It feels like he’s pressing piano keys down and playing a silent song against your skin. You can't help but smile, starting to drift off, when Yoongi speaks again. "Let me take you out for breakfast."

"Hm?" Your eyes open and you blink away your sleepiness to look up at Yoongi, who's still watching you. "Breakfast?"

"Yes." Yoongi's fingers still on your shoulder, and then he slides his hand down to tangle your fingers with his. "Or lunch. Or dinner. Whichever you prefer." He pauses. "Unless you don't want to," he says, and though his voice stays steady, you see a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. He's worried that you've gotten what you want and now you'll be done with him.

"You're so silly," you say softly, and you can see how Yoongi's face twists with confusion, unsure about how to react to being called silly— you can't imagine many people have said that to him, as outwardly intimidating as he can be. You squeeze his hand. "Of course I want to. But how about we plan it tomorrow? I don't know how long it's going to take me to be comfortable with walking in a straight line, so breakfast might be off the cards for now."

After a moment, Yoongi's face takes on a satisfied expression. "That's what you said you wanted," he says, and you huff out an amused breath.

"I technically said I wanted you to bend me over a piano, actually," you point out, letting your head settle in the crook of his neck again, and Yoongi brushes his lips against your forehead.

"There's a piano in the living room," he states casually, and you can't help the shiver that runs through you, even as your eyes start to fall shut again.

"I'll keep that in mind."

–

jiminnie y/n!! tae said you called in sick for work? are you okay??

you i'm good! just a lil busy

jiminnie with what?

you [image attached]

jiminnie … why have you sent me a photo of a piano?

you yoongi's gonna fuck me on it omg on that note i've gtg BYE LOVE YOU MINNIE xoxoxo

jiminnie WHAT??? OMG??? GET THAT DICK QUEEN!!!

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts x reader #bts smut #suga x reader #joy.masterlist

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maraudererasmut · 3 years

Text

Life Update and All That

Hey all!

It’s T here!

I know it’s been a very long while since I’ve been around, and I figured I’m finally at the point where I can pop by and give a bit of an update, in case anyone was curious.

I left Tumblr and Discord for a bit to get my bearings and re-evaluate things. I needed some time to myself to sort through my mental health, figure some stuff out, and get to the point where I was finally at a better place to be able to come back.

A few things have happened since I’ve left that are actually kind of neat!

I published a book and wrote another manuscript!

I’m not going to share too much information about my book here, because I still do want to keep my smut-writing-pseudonym separate from my professional life, but suffice it to say that I published a novella, which got me started on the strange journey that is publishing!

I’m currently in the process of querying my first full-length manuscript, with the intention of getting an agent and publishing it. Hopefully that will be able to go somewhere, but if not, at least I have learned a lot while on my journey!

I realized that I am trans!

To the shock and surprise of absolutely nobody, the person who wrote gay romance and focused on a storyline that predominantly featured a transmasc character is actually, in fact, gay and trans. Shocking, I know!

It took a bit of thinking and talking and self analyzing that mostly occured during the many, many hours of alone time provided by a global pandemic for me to realize that wanting to be a boy does, in fact, make you probably a boy. Who would have guessed.

Anyway, I’m going by he/they pronouns these days. And uh... I guess my descriptions of dysphoria in all of my fics were a bit closer to home than I was ever willing to admit. Funny how these things work.

I bought a house!

I finally did something that I never thought would be possible in my entire life: I actually purchased a house in my city, which is notoriously expensive. It’s the perfect home for me: a large backyard; my very own shop space, which will soon be filled with tools; a sunroom with tons of windows for writing; a roof that I can climb up to and sit on... It’s really such a great home, and I am so excited to start this new chapter of my life here.

One door closed and another opened!

When I first left, there was a job opportunity that was a bit up in the air that would’ve involved me uprooting my life. While it didn’t end up panning out, I was ended up stumbling upon a different job in my field. I almost forgot how much I love what I do, and I am so glad to be back into the thick of it!

I figured that I should probably also try to pre-emptively answer any questions that you may have while I’m here and typing this all out. So... here goes!

Will you be continuing *insert fanfiction*?

I’m honestly not sure. The best answer that I can give right now is: Maybe?

I definitely want to try to continue some of my storylines, tie up some loose ends, and actually put together those plots that I had swirling around my mind.

That being said, I also have other projects that are currently on the go that might take precidence. Most importantly, I have several original stories that I plan to eventually query (or even publish, if I can!).

If I find that I am inspired to go back and write more Wolfstar, rest assured, I absolutely WILL. These boys will always hold a special place in my heart, and I honestly don’t know if I will ever be truly rid of them, even if I tried.

Will you still be making art for the fandom?

Again, I’m not sure.

I’ve been doing a LOT of fanart, on a different account, just to keep up my skills while I was away. There are quite a few fandoms that I have been making art for, and I don’t know yet if I want to merge these two accounts.

That’s a decision for the future. :P

But you can always try to pop into my ask box and send a request, and if I can get to it, I will try my absolute best.

You and I have unfinished business!! Will you be getting to that?!

Ah, yes. I remember now. I left the fandom while I was in a very BAD place, and most things fell by the wayside while I worked on my mental health. I’m sorry.

If we do have any kind of unfinished business at all that you need to talk to me about, please do! I want to try to resolve things and make sure that everyone is satisfied with whatever solution we can come to. Feel free to reach out, and I will try my absolute best to respond and rectify.

Rest assured, if we have had any kind of negative interraction in the past, I have absolutely spent the past year and a half allowing that to eat away at me. I’ve been feeling guilt up the wazoo, a ball of anxiety so tight, you could probably play baseball with it.

I’m trying not to let these kinds of things bother me anymore. I’m trying to learn to let things go, and focus on the present and the future. I am truly sorry for things that I have done in the past, but I am finally at the point where I am ready to put my effort into making things better instead of dwelling on what was.

Will you be active on this blog now? Are you back for good?

I think you already know the answer to that question...

I don’t know.

I haven’t made any decisions yet about whether or not I’m here to lurk and like and reblog or if I’m going to be actually producing content again. I have no idea yet how active I will be here. That really depends on how I’m feeling, how I’m doing mentally, and what the reception to this post looks like.

So... Maybe?

DID YOU MISS ME WHEN YOU WERE GONE?

Yes. Yes, I did.

If you are actually asking me this question, chances are that I did miss you. Yes, you specifically. Yes, I thought about you a lot. Yes, I wished that I had the courage to go back and just say “HI, I MISSED YOU, PLEASE CAN WE BE FRIENDS AGAIN!”

I am not great at reaching out, though. I’m not great at handling my emotions period. Hopefully, if you’re wondering if I missed you, you’d be interested in reconnecting, knowing that I did, in fact, miss you a lot.

Are you okay now?

I will be.

Even when I’m not okay these days, I at least have the wherewithall to be able to say “while I might not be doing great right now, I know that I will be okay.”

And isn’t that what we all want? :P

Anyway, if you made it this far, thanks for reading. I hope this was interesting and/or informative.

And... I’m glad that I wrote this. It helped.

With love,

#maraudererasmut #writing my thoughts out #T Talks

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

Note

This is the medic berth sharing anon, and I forgot to add, what if when talking to a bot(not necessarily a medic), the conversation some how drifted to where the human just casually mentions that professional cuddling is A Thing, and what would the reactions be?

I've got a lot here as a follow up because once again, your ideas inspire me anon! Prepare for a wall of text!

Rodimus

·He's not necessarily surprised, because your species is so incredibly soft, why not have humans who specialize in using that talent? But he's still never considered it before, and is curious as to how one becomes a "proffesional" at something so basic, and what kind of training it could possibly entail.

·Hearing that it's more for humans who have endured trauma, or humans who come from cultures or backgrounds where such contact is frowned upon, makes him a little sad. He's an affectionate bot and can't imagine not having access to something so simple, but then realizes their own species could perhaps do with some physical affection based therapy, not that he feels qualified to suggest such a thing...

Drift

·After a brief request for more information he's delighted by the sound of the practice, even if he doesn't have all the details. Creating harmony through positive energy and healing through affection is a personal ideal of his, and to hear another species practicing it is quite uplifting!

·It's unfortunate it isn't widely practiced, but the mere fact it exists is enough to give him some inspiration, so he asks for as many facts as you can give. With a bit of planning he absolutely intends to pursue this for Cybertronians, even if by just bringing it up as a proposal, and hopefully Ratchet will be willing to give it a chance!

Ultra Magnus/Minimus Ambus

·Initially he needs you to repeat yourself and explain in more depth, because he's certain he heard you wrong. How can one do something so common "professionally"? It takes a fair amount of conversation and a lot of context for him to understand the therapeutic aspect, which he begins to see once you also lay out what a social species humans are and how damaging solitude can be.

·The idea of healing through affectionate contact is something he can grasp, at least. Cybertronians aren't so different, though many such needs have long been neglected, and he is doubtful it could catch on until a significant amount of restoration is done. He'd be interested in seeing it happen, and can see how it would benefit a war ravaged population, provided there is proper licencing for those who wish to pursue it.

Ratchet

·He's immediately intrigued, but not at all surprised, and discusses the similarities such a practice reveals between humans and Cybertronians. As imposing as bots may be, they're still a social species, and a lack of physical affection can do great harm. Also like humans, bots tend to be unaware of the depth of the need until they're suffering.

·Talking about it really gets him thinking. They've neglected a lot to win the war, and now that they're here, needs like this should come back into focus. It would certainly be worth it to encourage such things where he can, even if bots don't understand or believe in the benefits. They may not have proffesional cuddlers, but this ship is undoubtedly bursting with lonely bots who'd be willing to give it a try.

Rung

·As a kind of therapy, it's entirely new to him, but the benefits are exceptionally clear even before you elaborate. Bots are a caring and tender species under all that armor, despite the image the war has created, so he can see that humans would find solace in such a thing due to their similarities. Being a proponent of slow and measured healing also makes the idea quite agreeable.

·He discusses the possible changes one would have to make for Cybertronians, which would probably be somewhat significant due to their differences in size, anatomy, and cultural practices. The basic idea could still stay though, especially for the many traumatized not just by battle, but by the shortage of tender intimacy the war created in its stead. He'll absolutely write a paper on this, and he actually feels it's worth publishing! Should you suggest he'd be a natural at providing such care he will blush for a multitude of reasons.

Swerve

·He keeps it to himself, but his first emotion is one of absolute longing. Someone to just hold you, and comfort you, with the skill of a therapist but the gentle embrace of a friend? He plays it off like he sees it as another quirky human thing, but he subtly prods for more information under the veneer of casual conversation, and starts wishing his own kind had an equivalent.

·As much as he'd prefer having someone who just wants to be with him like that as a friend, the idea of a proffesional is still tempting beyond belief, and he wonders if the increased interaction between your species might make some bots pick up the trade. Just enjoying the simple, uninterrupted company of another for a bit would be heavenly, but he's absolutely not willing to say that out loud.

Skids

·Knowing that slow and steady therapy works, he can definitely see that being helpful, even if he doubts he'd ever get anything out of something like that. He likes to move and have fun when he socializes, and sitting still with someone would probably just end in a nap for him, not that he minds the idea of that too much...

·One thing he is curious about is the statistics of the occupation, as baffling as they may be. Why are the proffesionals mostly female and the clients mostly male? Don't humans, like bots, long for affection no matter their physical makeup? An explanation of stereotypes and gender roles and everything involved on that front just makes him think he needs a drink.

Whirl

·Of course he cracks a few jokes about tiny squishy humans needing to be mushed, but it's in good humor, because he actually gets it pretty much right away. The whole idea is a sappy one, but all of therapy is sappy, and you can thank brains for being so darn easy to trick up with feelings for that little design flaw.

·He explains that the biggest part of you to hurt when someone screws you over is your sense of trust, so something that makes you be super vulnerable is obviously the way to fix it, at least for some. After emphasizing how he'd never benefit from such a thing, he posits that cuddling is potentially the most dangerous thing you can do, making folks willing to try it on thr regular with strangers pretty damn brave. His logic on the ease of stabbing while snuggling is not one you can argue.

Chromedome

·Fully aware of the chaos life can bring, he immediately gets why someone would want a little time to relax with someone calm, even if it's more of a clinical session than a platonic bonding. Admittedly the lack of concrete guidelines does worry him a little once he hears the qualifications are rather loose, but is anything perfect?

·Being a bot who fully gets how desperate a suffering individual will go, he can't help but consider what a benefit such simple pain relief could be, but also mourns for those who don't have access to something so... basic. Suffice to say he gets ample cuddling, and knows full well how precious every moment is.

Rewind

·Being so focused on memory has taught him the emotional impact even a little encounter can have, so he isn't at all surprised some species would have learned to utilize this, only that his own hasn't. Being such a varied and armored species can make any intimacy difficult, but that hardly means they're strangers to snuggling after all.

·The thought of such loneliness can't help but make him a little sad, especially when he learns many of the humans seeking out this service are in relationships. Not a day goes by for him without hand holding or hugs or nuzzles... He hopes your species makes this more common as therapy for their own sake.

Cyclonus

·Initially he's a bit bewildered, though many aspects of earth culture bewilder him, and further discussion does little to help him grasp the concept or its benefits. It seems silly and, at least internally, he can't help but perceive it as inappropriate. It isn't until you elaborate on why humans seek this service out that he begins to get some clarity.

·Hearing about how many human cultures frown on caring contact in virtually any situation, even between partners, is a little alarming. He knows the struggle of expressing emotions after even allowing yourself to feel them, but to be so caged by tradition that one needs secret contact with a proffesional for a taste of warmth or companionship... well, that's unfortunate.

Tailgate

·Immediately you see him perk up, as if the mere mention of cuddling catches his attention. He asks lots of questions, some on the proffesion and others on the ways humans express care, and while saddened that the job is needed he's happy that help is there for those who need it.

·You're then given an enthusiastic but confidential talk on how he's finally getting all the hugs he needs with Cyclonus, who will never admit it but he's certain is benefiting from the cuddling as much as he is. While not aware of the six million years he was out, it's felt as if his body is, and thus he's been eagerly catching up with loving snuggles whenever possible. Speaking of which, want a hug?

Velocity

·She's not at all caught off guard by the idea, as it makes a lot of sense for the sake of mental health, especially to a doctor of a species that could use the practice. While Caminus has been spared the war between factions, it's unfortunately not a haven for emotional wellbeing either. The need to stand out and meet cultural requirements of frugality forces many to be just as reserved with their needs as the humans seeking out help that you describe.

·She wonders if it'd be possible to introduce something like that to her own people, if not on Cybertron. But there's a lot of cultural resistance, just as she's sure you've seen on earth, to taking care of oneself even for such a basic need. She expresses respect for humans on actually taking the steps to improve.

Nautica

·As with all new things, she's immediately interested in learning the full depth of the subject, both inside and out. If you don't know it all that's okay! She can just plough through a few books and then she'll feel like she's got it down! This means she wants to know about human therapy, affection, cultural hindrances, the neurochemtistry of physical contact... Anything you know to start on these subjects would be helpful.

·Before and after her quick study break, her biggest takeaway is the huge taboo humans have placed on touching, something she can barely wrap her head around. Sure, bots have unnecessary hangups as well, but casual taction just... happens? Why would any culture have issues with that? Even as someone who occasionally trips up and crosses physical boundaries, she knows that space is important, but it's not meant to be a barrier. You'll let her know if you need a break from what sounds like an exhausting mindset, won't you? She's always here for a quick hug or even just a shoulder pat!

Megatron

·All talk of human culture once made him cringe, not out of disgust, but out of an admittedly deserved guilt. With you he's at least opening up to conversation on the topic, and this is one of the things he needs a bit of elaboration on, as his bafflement is so great you can see it on his face. His experience with physical affection being nonexistent doesn't make it any easier for him to follow.

·When you mention the concept of being "touch starved" he finally gets it, but has a less than thrilling realization himself. He's never heard a word describe his deeply buried longing so effectively, and your talk of earth culture occasionally stifling people to the point of needing these services strikes a nerve he hadn't known was so tender. As with every other vulnerability in his life, he buries it down and secures the weakness firmly away, keeping his expression neutral as he pretends the topic is just another curiosity.

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pyrefell · 3 years

Note

Headcanons for some of the boys? Namely horrorfell, underswap and underfell?

you let me off my child leash and i honestly wasn’t even really sure where to even start here, so you get some pretty general headcanons. i have a lot to say about underfell and horrorfell,,,

UNDERSWAP:

IN ALL HONESTY, Underswap is currently one of my least developed AU interpretations. I'm still just really indecisive. BUT! I do have some stuff that I'm fairly set on.

Papyrus:

Never really grew out of the shyness he had as a babybones, he’s always had a much more outgoing brother to hide behind.

He's the one that designed the puzzles in Snowdin! Puzzles are still one of his special interests in this AU. (Sans gets really excited to tell anyone that asks that his Very Cool little brother designed them.)

He's fairly low to mid (but consistent) energy. He tries (and usually succeeds) to act all chill but he gets really excited about some things and can reach True Papyrus levels of loud.

He and Undyne are still friends in this AU! He doesn't go to see her super often because. Hotland. But when they are together, it's pretty chaotic. They like to design things a la Mickey's Dick Smasher.

Man, he's sure been feeling a lot of deja vu lately. Huh, wonder what that's all about. :)

Sans:

He’s still the Judge! And he's still the one that has to deal with the ever shifting and resetting timeline. It's...really starting to take a toll on him, but what's the point in telling anyone? They won't remember and besides, who's going to believe him anyways?

He was always fairly outgoing and bubbly but he took on an even more bubbly persona kind of unconsciously to overcompensate for and hide how Tired he is now.

Sans is just about the opposite of his brother energywise. He's full of energy for short bursts and then he sleeps for hours. He's started sleeping more since everything with the timeline started. It's not the best sleep but he’s just...so tired nowadays.

Still completely willing to eat condiments for a joke (or a """joke"""). He eats mayonnaise by the handful. Does it mostly to embarrass (and disgust) Papyrus.

Genuinely enraged by people who think he's young. Sure, he may be only a few inches over 5', but he's a Wide Boy. And not a naïve child, he's the older brother, thank you very much. Haven't you heard his voice? What kid has a voice that deep?

UNDERFELL:

One general headcanon I have is that they both have DT in their systems. Gaster gave them injections when they were still very young babybones in the sterile lab and they’d started mysteriously falling down. He’s not really a bad guy there, he wanted to save them. Of course, it’s probably got it’s side effects, right? After all the Bromalgamate and Comic Papyrus exist. :)

Their relationship is...strained. They definitely still love each other and would fight to the death for the other but they don't really talk. They both blame each other for how the other turned out, how they act.

Papyrus:

He’s blind in his scarred socket! He first got the wound when he was still pretty little and because he and Sans were still living out on the streets, he wasn’t able to get any real kind of medical care. It’s still pretty fragile but there’s really not a whole lot that can be done anymore.

He can cook! Like, really well, actually. Grillby taught him when he was younger. He’s particularly good at cooking with whatever’s already in the house.

I think he still wants to believe everyone can change and be good if they try. Though, whether he actually believes that anymore is kind of debatable. And I think that he doesn’t really enjoy all the fighting. He doesn’t take any real pride or joy in what he's become. He really wanted (and still wants) to actually protect monsters.

There's a square of fabric on his scarf that's from a well-loved blanket he'd had as a babybones. It still brings him some semblance of comfort when he needs it.

He's well aware of timelines. Well okay, 'well aware' isn't exactly the right way to put it. He can't put a name to what's happening, why he can remember things that haven't happened yet or have happened at all. He at one point attempted to keep a journal about it all but it was gone the next reset. He'd like to talk to Sans about it, but given how their relationship is...

Sans:

He’s got 3 golden teeth, he got hit pretty good almost directly on those teeth around the same time Papyrus got his scar. They were really loose after that but didn’t actually come out until later.

Most still see him as free EXP. He doesn't get attacked as much anymore but the times he has, he's been able to suffice on just dodging until Papyrus shows up. He could just as easily fight back, but he's decided there could be some benefit to hiding what he can do for just a bit longer. Besides, he'd rather not place any more targets on their backs.

He knows how to sew! He learned completely out of necessity when they were both young. They only had so many pieces of clothes, after all. He's the one who sewed the little square of Papyrus's blanket into his scarf.

King of eavesdropping. Despite his stature (and who his brother is for that matter), he's surprisingly good at going unnoticed. He tends to play like he's completely shitfaced and passed out at Grillby's, just in case someone lets something slip.

They both blame themselves for how the other turned out but Sans has it bad. He's supposed to be the older brother, right? He was supposed to keep Papyrus safe and stars, did he do a shit job at it, even if there were some things he just couldn't do anything about.

HORRORFELL:

OKAY SO, my Horrorfell doesn't start the same way the normal Horrortale AU starts. The short version is that Frisk doesn't fall until YEARS after they normally would have and they fall with Aliza. The Famine devastated the Underground. Frisk's left to try and figure out why they didn't fall when they should have and why they can't remember anything that happened during those years between. They have to balance keeping themselves and Aliza alive and trying to get through to at least Sans, who, while his memory is terrible he knows he's supposed to be pissed at them. They left the Underground to rot. I think that's all y'all really need lmao. I'm definitely going to write about Horrorfell, in fact I've already started something about it

ANYWAYS! On to the headcanons for the Boys. These two are so ride or die now it’s almost unreal. They’ve had a lot of time to air out their grievances and have the years worth of fights with each other. They work together so much better now and it comes in handy for both protecting each other and hunting. They're the most efficient and successful hunters in the Underground.

Papyrus:

He’s effectively completely blind at this point. He needs coke bottle lenses to see. He ends up completely depending on his hearing and sense of smell when he's hunting. Despite his failing eyesight, he remains the best chef in Snowdin after Grillby's disappearance. He's always sure to use as much as he possibly can.

His new stature has made it incredibly difficult to get into most buildings. He often ends up walking on all fours and his magic's started to adjust his body for that. He doesn’t recognize himself so much anymore.

While Sans was comatose, Papyrus spent his time trying to ration out food, attempting to keep the peace for the denizens of Snowdin and caring for Sans. He'd continued to cut his own rations not only for the rest of Snowdin but for Sans too when he hopefully wakes up.

He'd managed his way out to the rest of the Underground with his own brand of 'shortcut' earlier on despite the lockdown in Snowdin. Some say they'd seen him but no one's really sure if that's true and if it is, how did he get out? Can he do it again and maybe talk some sense into the Empress? They used to be friends, right?

His memory is also not very good. He and Sans keep a big whiteboard in the kitchen with pertinent information and there's a calendar in every room with all the past dates marked off, just in case someone forgets.

Sans:

The reason why the hole in his skull is so big and leads into his nasal cavity is because of preexisting cracks. Undyne really didn't mean to hit him! Really, she didn't...

The selfish part of him almost wishes the DT in him hadn't kept him around, but he can't bring himself to really want that. He can't leave Papyrus alone, especially not now.

His relationship with Frisk is...tense to say the least. When he first saw them, he didn't fully process who they were but he felt nothing but rage. He doesn't really believe what Frisk's saying when they claim they can't remember anything. Their relationship could absolutely mend, there's just so many roadblocks at the start.

Seeing as he can't reliably use his shortcuts anymore, he's not as efficient a hunter as he could be. But that doesn't mean he isn't extremely deadly. The brothers are revered for the effectiveness, after all.

He's developed some pretty nasty coping habits, most of which involve some kind of self harm either intentional or not. Papyrus tries his best to limit it, but he's not the best either.

#underswap #underfell #horrorfell #sans #papyrus #undertale headcanons #anonymous #long post #HATED reformatting this post lol #sorry for this absence. this post took WAY longer than i thought it would #i didnt proofread this post bc i didnt want to so if theres any errors. lol sorry

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doorsclosingslowly · 3 years

Text

If This Changed Your Life Did You Have One Before

Kaz is dismayed to learn that for an entire year, the key to a three million kruge pay-out from the Ravkan crown has been hiding right under his nose. Even worse: he’s making excuses not to turn Jesper in, Sun Summoner or not.

4k | Sun Summoner Jesper AU | Jesper Fahey & Kaz Brekker | warning for on-screen torture

The Smirnov home was as easy a target as Kaz predicted. The entire family is out at some gala or other, the staff having used the reprieve to go out dancing, leaving only two guards patrolling in front of the villa. Really, he needn’t have brought in three other Dregs to make copies of the scheduled arrivals of the cargo vessels they have coming over from West Ravka in the next two months. Kaz could have easily done this alone, but his new spider Inej needs all the practice she can get, Anika’s been complaining about getting propositioned in a gambling hall, and Jesper—well, Jesper’s obnoxious when he’s bored.

He’s obnoxious anyway. Kaz has been back with Anika at her watcher’s spot for ten minutes now, Inej materializing out of thin air right after him, and Jesper’s still missing. Probably got distracted, the utter flake, and Kaz has half a mind to go back to the Slat without him. He’ll show up eventually. He always does.

It’s time to discern which lesson Inej needs to learn more at this moment. Should Kaz impress upon her the need for single-minded focus on the job at hand, lest she displease him? Make an example of Jesper that she will not forget? Or should he build her loyalty by implying—not promising—that the Dregs do not leave one of their own behind?

Inej does Kaz’ bidding without question. Only one of these lessons is useful for his new dutiful, terrified spider to learn.

“We could have called it a day early this time,” Kaz rasps, “but unfortunately Jesper has not yet learned the value of punctuality. Let’s hope he hasn’t found another kitchen boy, or we’ll be here all night.”

He hands the copied schedules over to Anika and instructs her and Inej to wait inconspicuously while he retrieves the errant sharpshooter.

The second entry’s just as easy as the first, and this time, he doesn’t take the stairs to the first floor where the office was but explores the ground floor that he ordered Jesper to case out. Useless as Jesper is, surely not even he would dare to diverge from Kaz’ plans that early.

The hallway is dark and empty, and so is the dining room, dark and empty except for—the crack under the door to the kitchen, casting out bright light, light that glints on the pearl-handle of a revolver on the floor. Kaz is almost relieved to see it. The second one, someone’s kicked under a chair, and he quickly picks them up. Guns might come in useful, anyway: Jesper wouldn’t just leave them, ever, he plays loose with money and orders but is far too attached to his weapons, so he must be in danger. He didn’t needlessly complicate Kaz’ plans by being stupid and distractible, after all. To lose a fight is far more excusable than flakiness, and Jesper’s usually a good thief and fighter and a loyal Dreg, so Kaz would hate to have to cut him loose just for his intrinsic character flaws.

It’s not only light that spills out from under the kitchen door. Voices, too, two loud and male and obviously drunk—one Kaz places as mercher Smirnov, who must’ve begged off from the gala, and the other has a similar West Ravkan accent—and then there is someone else, desperately breathless and sobbing and begging, and since Kaz has never heard him sound anything like this before, even though he already knew from the context, it takes him an entire second to recognize the voice as Jesper.

“Please,” Jesper slurs, “I’m sorry,” and then the dull impact of fist against flesh.

“I didn’t tell you to speak you piece of shit crook,” Smirnov hisses, “sorry won’t bring my brother back,” and then Jesper moans in pain again.

Kaz creeps closer, foregoing the use of his cane to avoid any noise despite the discomfort. The mercher sounds much angrier than the situation warrants. This is Ketterdam: the occasional breaking and entering is an occupational hazard for any wealthy person here, and teenage Jesper on his own is hardly a scary sight, unless he’s using his face to make the most hideous shirt look haute couture or he’s landing impossible hits in a shootout, and from the clean smell in the dining room and the fact that Kaz, who must have been a single floor up when Jesper was grabbed, didn’t hear anything, it’s most likely Jesper was taken by surprise before he could fire a single shot. A simple call to the staadwatch would have sufficed. This job was not supposed to involve the risk of torture.

It makes no sense for it to be personal. Kaz has never before targeted Smirnov or his business, and Haskell didn’t recognize the name when Kaz came to him to argue for his plan. Haskell’s not the most talented Barrel boss, to say it lightly, but he does have a good memory for past marks, so it’s most likely the Dregs have never crossed paths with Smirnov in any way. Kaz has never known him to have any siblings, either, and he did observe him for a while before this heist. Jesper, of course, gets into enough scrapes during his off-time, but they’re nearly all about gambling or money he owes from gambling, and if Smirnov was a gambler, Kaz would know. It’s his job to keep track of which merchers are easy targets.

It’s possible, of course, Kaz muses while he silently and gently lowers the handle of the kitchen door—in case this display is an ambush for him—and opens it to a small crack as quickly as he can—he’d prefer to keep his sharpshooter in working condition—it’s definitely possible that Jesper just annoyed the shit out of his captors. Kaz can empathise. He’s also annoyed that Jesper got himself caught by a random sadist on the easiest of jobs.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have enough time to heal up pretty before you get to the Little Palace.”

Or—

The kitchen is bright.

It’s a standard narrow kitchen, very orderly and clean, with a bottle of liquor and two glasses on the work surface. There are three people inside, and it’s ridiculously bright.

Brighter than any room with a single lit candle has any right to be. Brighter than daylight.

And it’s all coming from Jesper.

Jesper, who’s held in the arms of the non-Smirnov drunk, a man who has one big hand pressed to Jesper’s neck and is squeezing so hard that Kaz would probably see Jesper’s face turning blue if he could actually look, squeezing, and then letting go, squeezing again. His other arm is wrapped around Jesper’s waist, pressing both his arms against his body. Jesper’s feet are on the floor, knees bent even; he’s not being held aloft but he’s far too busy sobbing and shuddering to kick his feet against the man holding him captive.

Kaz has always thought Jesper unreasonably tall and lanky—only occasionally with vicious envy—but he looks weirdly small next to his captor, not because he’s shorter because he probably isn’t, just definitely not as broad-shouldered and muscular… Not because the other man is impressive. He’s got a red nose and desperate shallow scratches all over his face (so Jesper’s tried to escape. Kaz makes a mental note to force him to practice grappling and other forms of unarmed combat henceforth. Rotty’s a decent instructor, but he’s still hampered by the ethics taught in childhood boxing practice. Kaz will have to teach a few lessons himself, if he wants his sharpshooter to excel the next time he’s outmanoeuvred and alone). Jesper doesn’t look small for any of those reasons, but because he’s panicking and brutalized and miserably helpless in this mercher’s grasp, and that’s so hard to square with the presence of the flirty, boastful, loud boy he should be.

He lights up every room he enters.

Well, he’s lighting up the room now, just not like that.

All of Jesper’s skin is glowing brightly, every inch that isn’t covered by his hideous outfit (though the glare washes out the vivid contrasts of his chosen colours, rendering the coat slightly less of an eyesore), and the deep bloody slashes down his chest, the cut on his bruised cheek, the gash on his head where someone must have surprise-bashed him—they’re blinding, as if Kaz was looking straight at the sun.

Because that iswhat he’s looking at.

Jesper’s Grisha.

Jesper’s Grisha, and he’s far craftier than Kaz thought he was, because he’s been hiding his secret for a year now, Jesper who can’t keep his fucking mouth shut even when he isn’t drunk, Jesper who pretends to be an open happy book. He’s been hurt before, too, though not often enough for Kaz to give thought to his unarmed defence… so maybe something about the kitchen knife that Smirnov’s using to carve holes into his chest forced him to start burning, or maybe it’s the dazed hopeless terror that permeates every single one of his pleas, his laboured breathing…

“If you’d just gone and destroyed the Fold, instead of stealing from respectable men, this needn’t have happened,” Smirnov says with lethal friendliness, and then he punches Jesper in the face again. The ring he’s wearing tears another gash into Jesper’s cheek: another eruption of sunlight, another sob. “Sun Summoner.”

“Just please—” If Kaz could look at Jesper’s face for more than an instant, he could probably see him flickering through what he might offer—money, information, sexual services, appeals to this man’s mercy or veneration for a mythic Saint or reminders that the Ravkan bounty for the Sun Summoner is alive only. He doesn’t say anything but another “Please,” because it’s plainly useless: these two men have decided he can be hurt just shy of his death, and then he’ll be sold to the Darkling. And if no-one’s come to find him yet, no-one will. It’s over. Jesper knows. Those men know.

Kaz knows, and so he has to figure out a way to get the other West Ravkan to let go of Jesper. Right now, this is intimidation, punishment, and another minute or two while Kaz plots won’t make much of a difference; but once he transforms the nature of this situation by his own attack, Jesper’s safety is far less assured.

No matter how much money the Sun Summoner will fetch (and Kaz knows it’s millions) once they figure out that he means to kill them, and that he came here for Jesper, they’ll use his life to bargain and Kaz is not interested in bartering anything for an excitable fool who’s been lying to Kaz for the entire time they’ve been working together. So he could—

But while he plots, Smirnov walks up to Jesper, a cast iron pan in his hand, and bashes him over the head. The other guy must have known he would, because he lets go, and so Jesper just crumples to the ground, bleeding from yet another burst bruise in his forehead and unconscious and still glowing brightly.

Whatever their plan may have been, they’ve released Jesper. It’s the opening that Kaz was searching for.

He dispatches the other Ravkan with a cane-blow to his face, and then he disarms Smirnov and uses his kitchen knife to slit his throat. Beats the other Ravkan again and again, strategically, so he’ll slowly die from his injuries: killing a mercher is terrible form, especially on a heist he could barely get permission for, but this way, the Staadwatch might believe Smirnov got into a drunken fight with his companion that ended tragically. For good measure (and because Jesper’s still glowing, and he can’t very well bring him back to the Slat this way without attracting attention), Kaz trashes the kitchen as well.

Then, he collects Jesper’s hat from the dining room, and gently places it on his sharpshooter’s head. Jesper’s barely glowing now, and in just a few seconds—

He’s back to normal. Kaz nudges his shoulder with his boot.

“Kaz.” Despite the pain he’s in, Jesper’s face is bright with joy as soon as he realizes it’s Kaz beside him. None of the weird Grisha light—as he turns his head to meet Kaz’ eyes, his skin’s almost gone back to its normal warm brown, although it’s slightly ashen from shock and blood loss and it’s starting to bruise badly, too—but he’s glowing in his own idiot Jesper way, with a happiness no-one sane would feel upon looking at Dirtyhands, not even a Dreg whose life he just saved.

Jesper, though—even when Kaz has called him into his office to chew him out for some indiscretion or other, there’s this fraction of a second where he just looks happy to see him.

“Get up, Jesper. Inej and Anika are waiting.”

“What did you…” And just like during those reprimands in his office, Jesper’s light is dimming as he tries to work out how much trouble he’s in. He probably wants to know whether Kaz knows he’s Grisha, and given the work he put in to conceal it for a year and how brutal Smirnov turned after he found out, it’s a distinct possibility he’ll run away from Ketterdam if he thinks he got made. And deprive Kaz of his reward. That he’ll definitely cash in. In a couple of days, because unlike Smirnov and his friend, he’s not going to assume that the Darkling wants his prize looking a few punches shy of becoming a corpse. Even if he wants to despoil his mythic Grisha, he probably wants to start from something pristine. They all do.

“I found your guns in the dining room,” Kaz rasps. “So I assumed those sadists carried you off into the kitchen to have their fun. You were passed out when I arrived; they were taking a break from inflicting torture, and I need a sharpshooter more than I need to skim from West Ravkan shipments, so I took them out. Who knew these lovely expensive walls conceal such depravity? They’re worse than we are.”

“They didn’t say anything?”

“About why they hurt you? I didn’t give them time. Personally, I think it was your crimes against fashion.”

Jesper attempts a relieved snort, but just groans in pain. Hopefully his ribs are bruised, not broken.

“It’s time to leave now. Get up. I didn’t spend my time constructing the scene of a tragic drunken brawl just for Smirnov’s family to come back early from their gala and catch us in their kitchen.”

Kaz doesn’t offer a hand to help Jesper up, but then, he doesn’t need to. They left his legs and arms alone, apparently, focusing their attacks on his torso and his face for reasons now unknown to all living beings, which means Jesper looks horrifying, ruined, half-dead, but he can still walk unaided. That makes it easier: if there was no choice Kaz could hold him up, but Jesper’s dangerously over-familiar with him as it is, and doesn’t need the encouragement. He keeps Jesper slightly in front, since he’s shaking wildly and his balance is shot from being bashed to unconsciousness twice, but he makes it without incident to the shadowed spot where Inej and Anika wait.

“Jesper kindly volunteered himself to distract the men who stayed inside the mansion,” Kaz tells them, and the look that Jesper shoots him is weirdly—grateful? But then, Kaz just saved his life. “Anika, get a medik to the Slat. No Grisha, no Ravkans, just in case. I know Smirnov was involved in his community, and we should not arouse any unnecessary suspicion.”

“Yes, boss,” Anika says, glaring at him before jogging off.

Inej, too, looks deeply unhappy while they walk back. Almost like… almost like they’re assuming Kazbeat Jesper up in response to his tardiness. Well. That may even be of use to his public image, so he shan’t make a move to dispel the idea, but—

“Thanks, Kaz,” Jesper mumbles the second they meet up with Anika and a young freckled medik at the Slat, “They’d never have stopped if you hadn’t saved me.” Obnoxious, obstinate Jesper, who’s definitely seen the same worried glances. And took it upon himself to wreck any of Kaz’ attempts at reputation management.

Kaz collects the now worthless copied schedules from Anika. He’ll have to grovel before Haskell for this failure. He ignores the eyes burning holes into his back.

Jesper doesn’t stay inside his room for even a day. His face makes him look like he lost several boxing matches in a row, and Kaz assumes the medik sewed shut the cuts on his chest and belly but Jesper’s still wincing, as soon as he thinks he’s unobserved, whenever anyone hugs or touches him during breakfast. His neck is ringed with bruising so severe it looks almost black, and his damaged throat makes him sound, for the moment, uncannily like Kaz himself does. Jesper, being an asshole, of course exploits that fact to recount the sad tale of what happened to him: again and again, then in some flowery monologue he's pretending is from Kaz' perspective, changing details, changing everything, until there's nothing left of the terrified boy who knew the only way out of getting punched and cut because of his imagined crimes against a sadist was the sale to a more mysterious sadist. Until Jesper's story is so funny even Kaz, who was there, can't help but laugh.

Kaz would have preferred him to sleep, rest, or failing that, clean his guns or whatever, since Jesper’s left eye is swollen completely shut and he needs to heal up before he’s anything approaching useful again—that’s why Kaz ordered Jesper to stay in bed for three days—but then, this is Jesper. Jesper does not do bedrest. After that first breakfast, Kaz is careful not to cross Jesper’s path for those three days, so he does not technically know that Jesper’s being stupid and insubordinate. So he doesn’t have to endure, again, Jesper pointing out, with stubborn adoration, that Kaz saved his life. He’s approached Rotty for lessons in unarmed combat, and prepared exercises of his own, but these can wait. As long as Jesper stays inside the Slat, and that, at least, seems likely.

Inej, whenever she’s not working, stops by Jesper’s bed or his table or wherever Jesper is now, listening to Jesper recount his usual Jesper bullshit. Anika comes by, and Roeder and Rotty and Pim and Specht and Big Bol and Luig and whoever else does, too, sometimes enough to gamble Jesper out of yet more kruge and sometimes pretending to feel pity for the current invalid. Kaz can hear their laughter when he limps down from his office to talk to Haskell, and when he returns from the Crow Club to climb up again. He can hear their laughter, far more often than necessary, because he’s passing by far more often than necessary. Taking trips he doesn’t need to, and his leg protests, but it’s simple precaution to watch his future asset.

As long as Jesper’s happy with the Dregs, he’s not running; and as long as he’s not running Kaz can still claim his reward.

It’s a year after Kaz found out that Jesper Fahey’s the mythical Sun Summoner with a three million kruge bounty on his head. A year in which he’s failed to make use of his knowledge. Presently, Kaz is attempting to puke out the last dregs of harbour water (successfully) and also to tune out Jesper’s prattling on about the expensive gorgeous, by which he means mindbendingly ugly coat he just ruined and the hours of maintenance his babies will need before they’re back to peak condition (no success yet, sadly. Jesper’s hard to ignore).

Although Jesper’s pretending to be unhappy, the second Kaz’ lame leg caught on a raised stone when he tried to evade the new sharpshooter the Razorgulls hired, and he tipped over right into the water—the second Kaz fell in, Jesper dove after him, and wrestled him back onto the pier despite Kaz’ mindless panic and despite whatever damage his precious outfit might have sustained. And now, Jesper’s nattering on and on about fripperies while he waits for Kaz to come back from his terror. His left eye’s swelling shut, and Kaz must have been the cause of it with his mindless desperation, but since Jesper doesn’t acknowledge it, neither does he. Whether he was angry at first or not, he probably forgave all when he noticed Kaz’ panic. Jesper’s always been prepared to cover for Kaz’ weaknesses. He’s an integral part of the Dregs’ operations (of Kaz’ life) and his absence will wreck them.

The three million kruge for the Sun Summoner would pay off Inej’s indenture easily, but Inej loves Jesper, and if she ever found out where the money came from she’d never speak to Kaz again. Even if she didn’t find out it was Kaz: she would insist on rescuing Jesper, worse, Sankt Jesper she would call him, and then go off on her own. He’ll lose his sharpshooter and his spider.

Three million kruge will get Kaz much further in his plan to take down Pekka Rollins, but he does need loyal people in order to succeed.

Three million kruge is a lot of money, but Jesper’s so charismatic that all the Dregs adore him: when Kaz claims his bounty with the Little Palace, he’ll have to be as secretive as possible, because it’s hard enough wrangling his recruits now, let alone when they’re all devastated by the loss of Ketterdam’s most flirtatious gambler, and painting Kaz as the villain. Kaz doesn’t mind villainy—he is who he is—but there are reputations that aid his work and those that don’t, and if nothing else this reward would involve taking a genuine risk.

And drenched, swollen-eyed, inimitable secretive Sun Summoner Jesper is still stealing glances at Kaz, like he thinks Kaz won’t notice—and he probably didn’t notice, when he was drowning in corpses just a few seconds ago, before he managed to turn his mind to rewards and their downsides—he’s still looking at Kaz and then carrying on with his minuscule complaints. He’s making no move to get up. He’s looking away again, communicating something silent to Rotty while still talking at Kaz, and then he must see something in Kaz that makes him go, “I smell awful! Let’s get back to the Slat, I need a change of clothes. ‘Gulls are gone now anyway, boss.”

Kaz does not particularly enjoy being cared for, but if needs must then this style of pretend-apathetic easily denied help is certainly his preference, and Jesper his most frequent provider.

So then, if Kaz is going to leave the reward for the Sun Summoner as a back-up plan for when he is dearly in need of money… Kaz isn’t going to make of his knowledge any time soon, since he’s found excuse after excuse not to for the entire last year. Jesper is both an incredible shot and loyal. He does whatever Kaz asks, and even when he gets distracted half-way through, he still tends to deliver whatever Kaz wants. If Kaz is going to keep the Sun Summoner with the Dregs simply for his other uses, it’s time to start planning for a different set of eventualities. He doesn’t need to know exactly who to contact and how to drug Jesper and where to deliver him, anymore.

Jesper, though he’s managed so far, is not the most discreet of people. He’ll mess up at some point, and it’s Kaz’ task to ensure that no-one believes even the plainest, most obvious evidence of the Sun Summoner's presence. Whatever happens—Kaz doesn’t need the worry that someone else might discover Jesper and thereby ruin any heist that Kaz has sent his sharpshooter on.

If Kaz won’t give the Sun Summoner to the Darkling, he will make sure that no-one else can, either.

#jesper fahey #kaz brekker #sun summoner jesper au #dimtraces makes things #a lot of Kaz just starting to figure Jesper out early in their working relationship tbh #shadow & bone #six of crows #shadow and bone

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snarkwrites · 3 years

Text

09 | gangsta; sweetpea

Notes:

SO.. I uhh... Got super into writing this recently. I just really liked where it was heading after part 7. Yes. Yes, I realize that literally no one asked for more of this but.. I wrote it. Might as well share it.

I warn in advance. There as a graphic and detailed fight in this chapter. Also. There is a LOT going on in this chapter. A LOT.

This is the second of four parts I have already written and waiting to go. I know, I know.. Literally no one asked for this. But you’re getting it anyway.

Warnings:

loosely canon compliant - this is the biggest warning, so if you’re into things that follow exact canon plot you are… definitely not going to like this. angst & slow burn, heavy sexual tensionstarting now, actually - this is just so everyone who started reading this thinking the smut would transpire in a hurry knows that apparently, it is not. violence / swearing & fighting, possible underage drinking and other shenanigans- look.. it’s high school. shit happens. also apparently, my ofc Alyssa uses the word fuck like all the time?…eventual sexual content / a virgin original character- this one is self explanatory. yes, i plan to write a smutty chapter in this at some point. when? i don’t rightly know. it’s got a while before we get there.

Pairing:

Andrews!Sibling OFC, Alyssa x Sweet Pea

Other Parts:

[ one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - soundtrack ]

Other Stuff:

[ faq - tag list doc ]

Tagging:

@brithedemonspawn is the only person on my Riverdale tag list. If you’d like to be tagged for this story by all means.. Please let me know. Please, I beg. It’d make me super duper happy!!!

NINE.

“What do you mean Hiram asked you to go cut their chains? Archie, this is not your place. They’re trying to fight back against this bullshit. Because that’s what this is, in case you’re wondering.”

“You need to make other friends. Literally anyone but them, Al.” Archie answered calmly. I glared at my brother from across the dining table. My father surprised me when he spoke up.

“You’re still friends with Jughead, right? How is that any different than your sister, being friends with Toni? Or that Fogarty kid? Or the other one, the moody one.. What’s his name?” my dad asked.

“Sweet Pea?” I questioned, taking a few more bites of my cereal. Grumbling about Hiram Lodge as I did so.

“He’s trying to help this town.” Archie muttered.

“What he’s doing is making people homeless. I bet you wouldn’t say that crap if he were trying to run anybody on this side of town out, Archie.” I snapped, pushing my chair away from the table, standing abruptly.

“Okay you two.” my father warned, glancing from me to my brother. Adding quietly, “Your sister has a point. That’s exactly why I’m going to talk to Hermione today about terminating the contract to build the housing.”

“Dad, you needed that contract.” I protested. Going quiet.

“I don’t need it bad enough to watch people gettin run out of their homes, tiny. I can find other jobs.”

“Dad..” I started, but he shook his head. Judging by the way his jaw was set, he’d made his mind up on this. I sighed, going quiet. Assuming that it was probably my fault he even made the decision that might just cost him the construction company in the first place. I think he could tell I was worried, because he caught me on my way out the door for school after Archie had stormed out, bolt cutters in hand to go and do Hiram’s bidding.

“I chose to do this on my own, okay? I just want to make sure you know that, Al.” my dad searched my face, waiting on me to give confirmation that I understood. I wasn’t entirely sure it was true, because for the past twelve hours, the fight had been ongoing between my brother and I.

“Actually, it was your mom who kind of reminded me what getting mixed up with the Lodges might bring on me. Has nothing to do with you and your brother fighting. But I wish you two would sit down and talk.”

I nodded, sighing. “I wish I knew he’d listen. But he’s changed so much since he started taking up with Hiram…” I shook my head. For the first time ever, I was actually kind of disappointed with my big brother.

If he weren’t under Hiram’s thumb right now, I have no doubt in my mind he’d either be helping Jughead with their protest, or he’d be doing everything he could to call attention to the issue.

“I know. Happens sometimes, tiny. All we can do is hope this whole thing is a phase and it doesn’t backfire on him. Be there for him when it does backfire.” my dad advised, pulling me into a hug.

As I went to step out, my dad tossed a brown bag towards me and I caught it. He smiled and shrugged. “Pretty sure when your friends get to school today, they’re gonna be starving. FP said they hadn’t eaten since 8 last night. This was some kinda hunger strike. Tell Fangs to share the bacon. I know he’s a growing guy, but shit.”

I laughed and smiled, doubling back to hug my dad. Really giving him a good squeeze.

“I love you too, kid. Now you need to get going.” my dad laughed when the hug broke, walking to the door and leaning in it, watching me til I got to the end of the street.

I spotted Cheryl waiting at our usual spot as of late and I made my way over. Opening the bag and letting her take out a biscuit. “Dad sent food for the others. That is, if Hiram doesn’t insist that my brother, idiot he is, escort them all straight to the police station.”

“Has your mother gotten back to you at all on the legality of what Ms.McCoy did before she stepped down as mayor?” Cheryl asked. I shook my head. Watching the sidewalk from the direction that Toni, Fangs and Sweet Pea normally came from intently.

“Where are they?”

“Toni texted me a few minutes ago. They’ll be here.”

“So Hiram didn’t make my brother and the other guys on the wrestling team take them to the station? Because if he thinks for a second I won’t dig into my college fund to post bail, my brother’s a bigger idiot than I ever imagined. Because I will.”

Cheryl was smiling at me. Giving a soft laugh as she bit into the biscuit she’d taken from the bag in my hands. “ Take deep breaths, lioness.”

I took a deep breath, deadpanning at Cheryl, “Happy?”

“It will suffice.” Cheryl’s grin broadened when she caught sight of Toni.

I let out a ragged breath when I saw our friends heading our way, fuming in anger. Sweet Pea seemed to be the angriest, arguing loudly with Jughead and Fangs about how they should’ve just let him go and not held him back or tried to stop some fight.

Toni, Fangs and Sweet Pea came to a stop in front of Cheryl and I. I held out the bag to Toni and she grabbed it, not wasting a single second. Grabbing a biscuit and groaning as she practically inhaled it. Then grabbing a few strips of bacon. “Oh my god, I love your dad too.”

“There’s enough in there for everyone. Fangs, he said you had to share the bacon, man.” I laughed at the way this made Fangs pout a little.

I stopped in front of Sweet Pea who was still angry, almost shaking at this point. I grimaced at the bruise forming on his jaw. Stepping a little closer. “Are you going to eat, Hulk, or nah?” I teased, shaking the bag at him.

“I’m too fuckin pissed right now, Cherry.” Sweet Pea answered, a harsh tone. His jaw setting.

“Oh.” I muttered. I realized just how close I was standing to Sweet Pea and suddenly aware of that, I stepped away a little and let Fangs take the bag because I was tired of holding it. As we started to walk to school, I found myself walking right next to Sweet Pea all over again when Kevin Keller caught up to us and chose to walk next to Fangs, putting me in between Sweet Pea and Fangs by the time we’d all sort of formed a line.

“Kevin, don’t you own a car?” I teased gently, giving him a knowing smirk. I’d kind of picked up on the fact that he might or might not have himself a little crush on Fangs.

“It’s broken right now.” Kevin answered my question, nodding towards Sweet Pea covertly as he smirked at me. I bit my lip, glancing over at Sweet Pea as I shook my head. Because I knew what Kevin was about to assume and I knew that at best, Sweet Pea only tolerates me because of Fangs and Toni.

“Dad’s supposed to take me out to let me try getting used to driving his truck this weekend.”

“I’ll be sure to let my dad know so he’s on standby.” Kevin taunted, making me stick out my tongue at him. “I’m not that bad.”

“I’d like to agree, but I have Snapchat, so I know about your driving. I saw the go-kart thing. I had no idea you could make a go kart drift, if we’re being honest. You drive like a lunatic, woman.” Kevin taunted. I pouted at him, folding my arms. “I do not! I just wanted to win.” I pretended to be annoyed, holding my hand up at him.

Sweet Pea’s hand brushed against my other hand and I glanced down. Curling my pinkie around his. Giving it a squeeze. I didn’t dare to look up at him as I did this, of course. When he didn’t pull away, I didn’t either.

He was upset. I considered him a friend. I tried to tell myself that my hopes in doing what I was doing were to calm him down. Nothing more.

But deep down, I was starting to realize that this might not exactly be the case. That maybe I felt things…

Things I knew he’d never feel in return.

Things I knew I needed to get over.

XXX

He bit his lip when he felt her finger curl around his. A glance over at her revealed that she wasn’t even looking at him, instead, she was buried in something Kevin was showing her on his phone. He’d almost swear that she didn’t even realize she’d grabbed hold of his finger again, but then, she gave it a little squeeze a few seconds after she glanced up from Kevin’s phone.

She still hadn’t looked at him. Or let go of his finger.

Every part of him knew he should let go but he didn’t want to. And he kept telling himself that more than likely, it wasn’t anything more than just her, trying to be a friend because he was madder than hell and it was obvious.

Oh but he wanted it to be so much more than that.

Their sides brushed again and his breath caught in his throat a little.

Fangs had a good point the night before when they’d been talking. It was getting harder and harder to hide the way he felt.

The fight he’d gotten into with Alyssa’s brother came back to him and he used Archie’s words as a reminder as to why he needed to forget the way he felt.

Because Archie did have a fair point when he pointed out that Sweet Pea wasn’t good enough for her and sooner or later, Alyssa spending so much time around them was going to get her in serious trouble or worse yet, hurt somehow.

But then what Fangs and Jughead both insisted the night before came back to him too and their advice made him want to fight. To act on the way he felt. To prove her brother wrong. To be with her. Be the guy who made her laugh. The guy she cuddled up with on a rainy Saturday to watch her horror movies. The one she came to when she was hurt or scared or just needed him.

They were making their way across the parking lot and she still hadn’t let go of his finger. To be fair, he hadn’t let go of hers yet, either. The connection was keeping him calm. Giving him other things to think about beyond the way he wanted to lose his entire mind over the fact that he was losing everything and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He felt powerless. He hated the feeling.

But the way she linked her finger through his and left it there gave him something else to focus on for a change.

And now, thanks to it, all he could think about was just how hard it was getting to keep his feelings himself.

“Alyssa?”

“Yeah, Kev?”

“Are you going out for the play? Come on, you have to.” Kevin pleaded.

Alyssa mulled it over, shrugging. About to shake her head before Kevin frowned. “You have to.”

“I’m not good at the whole getting up in front of people crap. We’re lucky I can manage cheering at the games without freaking out, Kev. Or have you forgotten the fairy debacle from Kindergarten?”

“It wasn’t that bad!” Kevin was giving her the pleading face.

“Kevin. I left the stage and ran to my dad. In front of the entire school.” she shook her head, laughing. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Besides, me singing? The sound of cats dying. I am not going to put people through that.”

“Oh come on.”

“Nope. Not happening, man.” she shook her head, smiling.

“Toni and I are thinking about it.” Cheryl spoke up.

Toni raised a brow, laughing as she nodded. “Thinking is the key word here, babe.”

Sweet Pea took a deep breath. Willing himself to either let go of her finger first or push things a little further. Maybe grab hold of her hand. Or brush his hand against her hand. He grumbled in frustration when he couldn’t make himself do either thing.

After a second or two, he managed to find a way to graze his hand against her hand and make it seem as if it were an accident. To his surprise, before he could pull his hand away, she’d linked her fingers between his.

She glanced up at him for a second or two, licking her lips. Giving his hand a little squeeze. They were almost to the doors of Riverdale High by this point. He figured she’d let go of his hand, but she hadn’t yet.

Everyone else split off, going to their own classrooms. He let go of her hand to push open the door, letting her step into the room as he held it open, letting it close behind him. As they took their assigned seats, she sank down in her chair, digging around in the pocket of her jeans.

Holding out a pack of chewing gum to him. Sweet Pea took a stick of the gum, unwrapping it. Popping it into his mouth.

After opening the text books, their teacher spoke up, addressing the class.

“We’ll be doing a bit of a different assignment. We’ve been studying genetics and I feel that it would be interesting to give this a try. You’ll be given dice.”

Sweet Pea chuckled when one of the other Serpents in class with them muttered an audible, “Finally, somethin I fuckin know about.”

Mr. Keaton glared at the other Serpent, silencing him. And then Mr. Keaton continued. “You will then roll these dice to determine what physical traits that offspring between yourself and your lab partner would inherit. You will chart the results and write a detailed summary. If you choose, for extra credit, you may draw this offspring.”

Sweet Pea coughed, shifting around in his seat awkwardly. Because all this entire project brought to mind for him was a mental replay of a particularly dirty dream he’d had about Alyssa not too long ago. The silent acknowledgement that he felt this magnetic pull to her and the harder he fought it lately, the more it refused to stay buried. The way it felt when her finger curled around his or the way it felt when he’d taken hold of her hand on their walk to school.

Every single touch, accidental or otherwise as of late.

Alyssa fidgeted a little herself, he noticed. He found himself wondering if she was fidgeting because she was suddenly regretting being paired with him for the term, or if she was fidgeting for the same reason he’d been fidgeting.

,, There’s absolutely no way she’s into me.” his mind taunted.

Mr. Keaton passed out dice and once they’d gotten their dice and the list of physical traits that Mr. Keaton compiled they’d be rolling for, Sweet Pea cleared his throat.

“Wishing you’d made a fuss about now, hm? Gotten switched to work with no brains over there?” he said it only half jokingly.

“Why? Are you?” Alyssa asked, gazing over at him, a brow raised. Laughing softly. “It’s just an assignment, Sweet Pea. And you’re not like.. You’re not a leper or something. I mean, I could do a lot worse.”

“If you’re fine with it, what the hell.” Sweet Pea shrugged, chuckling to himself quietly. Trying to fight back the sliver of hope that chose that exact moment to rise to the surface. The fact that she wasn’t switching, while surprising, didn’t necessarily mean anything. He had to keep reminding himself of that.

From the back of the classroom, Reggie spoke up. “Mr. Keaton, I’ve been thinkin… Maybe I should switch partners with Sweet Pea.”

Sweet Pea tensed.

When he knew Alyssa wasn’t looking, he shot Reggie an angry glare.

Reggie smirked at him, daring him to say something.

Mr. Keaton looked from pair to pair, rubbing his chin. “Amanda? Alyssa? Would either of you want to switch?”

Mandy was just about to speak up. He felt Alyssa tense up beside him and heard her mumble to herself, “Not today, Satan..” as she turned in her seat, giving Mandy an angry glare.

Mandy glared right back at Alyssa before giving their teacher the sweetest smile she could muster. “I’d love that, Mr. Keaton. Reggie’s an idiot. I’m sure even that Serpent is so much smarter.”

“The Serpent has a name, bimbo. You wouldn’t like it if I only called you bimbo, right?” Alyssa whirled around in her seat to snap at Mandy before she could stop herself. “Anyway, Reggie’s no stupider than you. Kind of a perfect fit if I do say so myself.”

Sweet Pea rolled his eyes at Mandy, but he cleared his throat, tapping Alyssa’s shoulder so she’d turn around before she got into trouble. He found himself super focused on the way she got heated just now because Mandy hadn’t bothered saying his name.

“If he makes me switch, I swear to god, I’m unleashing my wrath.” Alyssa grumbled to herself. Making Sweet Pea take a shaky breath or two.

Why did this matter so much?

Sweet Pea found himself a little surprised. He honestly thought she’d be jumping at the chance. He assumed she’d be happy to get away from him.

“Alyssa? Your thoughts on the matter?” Mr. Keaton questioned.

“ Nope. I refuse to have that absolute pig be the father of my non-existent children, sir. I’m fine where I am.” Alyssa answered, turning to shrug at Reggie as she said it.

Reggie pouted a little.

Sweet Pea smirked, shrugging at Reggie when their eyes met. Reggie glared at him, finally turning around when Mandy cleared her throat.

“You could’ve switched, Cherry.”

“ I realize this. But I didn’t want to.” Alyssa answered, finally meeting his gaze. Biting her lip. “Unless you wanted me to switch?”

“No, no. Fuck no.” Sweet Pea’s answer tumbled out in a rush. Alyssa laughed softly, managing a little smile. “In that case, we should probably get started. This is a pretty long list. Oh, while I’m thinking about it.. We’re trying to avoid my shitty eyesight, red hair and skin that burns at even a hint of sunlight.” she muttered, glancing over at him.

Sweet Pea caught himself doing it again, getting caught up in her eyes. Staring like an idiot. He nodded. “Okay, since we’re going there, Cherry. We’re trying to roll with the hopes that this kid doesn’t knock their fucking heads off every time they walk through a door.”

“I mean, it’s better than climbing shelves and counters to reach things your idiot brother puts out of your reach deliberately, but hey.. Go off I guess.” she teased gently, smiling at him. Holding out the dice.

“You roll first. I am.. Not good at dice.” Alyssa pleaded. Sweet Pea chuckled and shook his head. “Oh no. No, you first.” he smirked at her, he couldn’t resist it.

Alyssa pouted but took the dice and rolled.

“Okay, so.. Doubles..” Alyssa announced when both the dice settled on the side with one dot.

“Twins.” Sweet Pea consulted the list. “We were rolling for a number of offspring just then, right?” he asked.

“They better have given me good drugs.” Alyssa joked, filling in the chart. “I’ll roll for one, you can roll for the other?” she asked. Sweet Pea nodded. Silently hoping to god she hadn’t noticed him staring yet again. He answered in a daze, “Yeah.” as he took the dice to roll again. This time they were rolling for hair color.

“You better roll again, sir. Remember? We’re trying to avoid red hair.” Alyssa nodded to the dice settled on the top of the desk between them.

“Actually, no. I’m not. You are, but I’m not.” Sweet Pea smirked, the smirk growing when he saw her pout a little about it. “Deal with it, Cherry.”

“Well, we’re off to a great start. Can’t even agree on hair color.” Alyssa teased, noting that they’d gotten the red hair trait from her.

She took the dice back. “Come on dark brown and functional brown eyes..” she muttered, smiling when she rolled for Sweet Pea’s eye color, but scowling a little when she managed to roll that yes, they’d have vision trouble. “Poor kids.” she shook her head, laughing. Holding out the dice to him.

Sweet Pea had been in a daze yet again. Luckily, he managed to pull himself out of said daze when she placed the dice in his hand. He rolled. Grumbling when he got himself for the height gene.

The bell rang a few seconds later. Alyssa gathered her books and started for the door. Sweet Pea caught up to her. “Wasn’t so bad.” he mused. Carefully.

Alyssa smiled, shaking her head. “No, it wasn’t.” hiding a laugh as Reggie and Mandy made their way past in a very heated and angry argument. She nudged Sweet Pea, nodding towards them. “Some people should never be allowed to procreate.”

“They really shouldn’t.” Sweet Pea answered, swallowing down a lump as it formed in his throat. Letting his gaze linger for a few seconds. “Hey, if you want.. We can finish this tonight at the Wyrm.”

“You’d be okay with me showing up at the Wyrm.” Alyssa eyed him carefully.

He shrugged. “It’s not any different than all the times you came with Toni.”

“I’ll be there, then. Oh and Pea?” Alyssa turned back to look at him. He chuckled. “What?”

“Your name is coming off the top of the Mortal Kombat leaderboard. Tonight. Better bring your A game, sir.”

He bit back a groan at what she said. There was just something about the look in her eyes just now.. Teasing and playful… that combined with her calling him Sir definitely gave him a reason to need the walk to his next class.

Because he needed to pull himself together. He needed to get his head around everything and more importantly, he needed to really stop and think if he wanted to keep fighting whatever was starting to happen between them.

Because he’d been fighting it since he’d seen her around town for the first time. And he just couldn’t anymore.

Fangs caught up to him. “Didn’t you hear me yellin at you, man?”

“I was thinkin.”

“About?”

“Maybe you were right. About what we were talking about last night?”

Fangs smirked. “You’re gonna go for it?”

“I want to. Doesn’t mean I will. But I can’t keep saying I don’t.. Ya know.. When I do. Because it’s driving me fucking insane, man.”

“Want her?” Fangs filled in the blank, snickering when Sweet Pea gave him a dirty look but nodded. As they made their way into class and took their usual seats in the back, Fangs leaned across the aisle. “For what it’s worth… I think she’s into you, man.”

“Yeah. I doubt that.” Sweet Pea looked at his best friend as if Fangs were losing his mind. He wished that were true. He wanted it to be true. But he doubted that it was.

“You’re blind.” Fangs chuckled, turning his attention to the note Kevin had slipped into his locker. Chuckling and rubbing his chin in thought as he debated on what his response was going to be.

XXX

Practice had just ended. I made my way over to my locker in the girls locker room and I opened the door, thinking I’d grab the clothes I bought to change into after practice. Clothes that were nowhere to be found.

I grumbled to myself, annoyed. A quick glance around the locker room put me onto the fact that Mandy and her little army of skanks were circled up, looking at me. Whispering and laughing. Mandy was bold enough to call out, “Missing something, are we?” as she held up my clothes, laughing… Slinking over to the door that lead into the hallway.

Tossing my clothes right out in the middle.

I turned and glared at her. “You bitch.”

“Aw, are you upset right now? What are you gonna do, Alyssa? Go cry to big brother? Go sic your Serpent trash loverboy on me? I’m so so so scared.” she nudged her friend Kaylie. “I bet she doesn’t do anything. I bet she just sits there and fumes like usual. I’m surprised she had the nerve to call me a bimbo earlier in class if we’re being honest.” Mandy smirked as she said it, glancing at me. Nodding towards the door.

“If you want your clothes, sweetie, they’re right there! All you have to do is go get them…. Unless you’re afraid? Don’t flatter yourself, Alyssa. Nobody wants to see you in your underwear. Absolutely no one.”

I clenched my fists and took a deep breath or two. Mandy and her friends were all staring at me, waiting. Gazing from the hallway, where my clothes were piled up, back to me. Smirking and laughing because they were starting to think Mandy was right. That I wasn’t going to do anything. That I’d just turn and ignore Mandy’s attempts to goad me into a confrontation and shove down all my anger like I usually did.

,, she wants you to turn the other cheek like you’ve been doing until lately. If you do that, you’re basically telling her she can get away with this crap.” the thought came and rather than shove it out in favor of being the bigger person, I leaned into it.

Because today was not the day and I was not the one.

I stood and walked out into the hallway. Right as the bell to dismiss final class for the day rang and the hallway was starting to flood with students. One of them being Sweet Pea. We locked eyes as I walked past, calmly going to the Riverdale crest on the floor that she’d tossed my jeans in the center of. Bending to pick up my jeans. Sweet Pea’s arm shot out.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, out here like that, Cherry? Have you lost your mind entirely?”

“Nope. I’m getting my fucking clothes. Since Mandy the thundercunt scattered them all over the hallway.”

Sweet Pea growled quietly, his fists clenching and unclenching. He took off his Riverdale polo, holding it out to me, but I shook my head, biting my lip and smirking as I did so. “Oh no. No.. see, if I don’t do something major now, she’s never going to fuck off. So thanks but no. Now put your shirt back on before you get in trouble.”

Sweet Pea eyed me. Shaking his head. I tapped my foot impatiently, holding his gaze. “Sweet Pea… Put the goddamn shirt back on. I know what I’m doing, okay? This is to prove a point.”

“What good is that gonna do when you’re caught by a teacher and you wind up in detention, huh? Take the fucking shirt, Cherry. Take it now.” Sweet Pea used his firmest tone, but I was too angry. It didn’t do anything to me.

“Put the shirt back on, Sweet Pea. Now.” I muttered firmly. A hand on my hip. “Do it. I’m willing to stand here until a teacher spots me if that’s what it’ll take to keep you from doing something that we know might get you expelled.”

“Goddamn it.” Sweet Pea gave up arguing, finally realizing I wasn’t going to budge one way or the other. Not until I’d done what I came out to do. And the less he argued with me, the quicker I could get it done and get back in the locker room.

I spotted my favorite Motley Crue crop tee near the girls bathroom. And totally zoned out, so angry that I was actually shaking a little, I paid not one single bit of attention to the fact that a few people were staring.

I was too pissed to be embarrassed and that is probably a good thing. Because if I wasn’t so pissed, I’d have wanted the floor to open and swallow me whole.

I spotted the red and black plaid shirt I’d been wearing over my tee shirt hanging over the rim of a garbage can and I calmly walked over, plucking it out. With my clothing gathered, I went to step back in the locker room, ignoring the one or two whistles and the Ghoulie who felt the need to comment something so gross that I debated heavily on walking over and twisting his dick in my hand until it twisted off.

I flung the door of the locker room open wide and when I did, it connected with Mandy’s face because she’d been standing there. Probably recording the whole thing to post on her socials later.

Because that’s totally something girls like her do for funsies.

She stumbled back, holding her nose as blood began to slowly pool between her fingers. And before she had a chance to react, I was slamming her against the lockers immediately to the right of the door. My forearm against her throat to hold her there.

“You’re going to erase whatever video you just recorded. Don’t fucking test me, you diseased thundercunt. Erase the video. I know you recorded the whole thing.”

“You little bitch, you broke my nose!” Mandy slammed her head into mine, causing me to drop my forearm from her throat and grab for my own nose. Once she was free, she threw a punch. I ducked it and came up swinging. Connecting with her jaw. And before she could even recover from the punch, I was grabbing her by the hair and shoving her head at the locker door.

She charged at me, knocking me on the ground. I grabbed hold of her face, trying to go for her eyes and once she was trying to block that, I flipped it and reversed it so that I was straddling her hips now. The first thing I did was grab hold of her phone and throw it on the floor a few feet away as hard as I could. When she tried to reach up and choke me, I choked her back and she rolled us so that she was on top this time. Fists were flying again. The benches that ran the middle of the locker room were being moved out of place. Lockers were being hit as we made full use of the floor in the girls locker room.

Her friends tried to rush over to help but Veronica and Cheryl stopped them from getting close as Cheryl called out to me, “Get her! It’s about time!” and she told Veronica firmly, “Lock the doors. Nobody gets in or out. Amanda has had this coming for a while now.”

Veronica nodded, locking the door to the locker room. Betty held off Mandy’s friends with Veronica and Cheryl’s help. Determined to let the fight keep going. At least until one of us or the other calmed down.

I stood up, pulling Mandy off the floor. Pulling her towards the showers.

Turning on the water full blast and as cold as I could get it. Shoving her into it and as soon as I had her cornered, I leaned down to her level. Grabbing hold of her white and yellow Riverdale Vixens ringer that now had blood spattered on the front of it.

“You better hope that video got erased, Mandy, or this is just a preview of what your life’s gonna be like, honey.” I said it quietly and calmly. “And if you think for even a second about messing with me again… Remember this.”

“You’re actually insane.. You crazy little bitch. Just wait. I’ll get back at you. This isn’t over, Alyssa.”

“Oh, I’m counting on that, you diseased mega skank.” I shrugged as I walked away from her, facing her. My middle finger up in the air. “You might want to clean yourself up, Amanda. We can’t have anybody thinking we were up to no good in here, now can we?” I challenged.

A teacher was pounding on the door and it started to click into place what I’d just done. I sank down on the nearest bench, panting to catch my breath. Trying to calm down. Letting the anger and everything subside.

Cheryl made her way over, Veronica and Betty in tow. Stopping to unlock the door as they went. Whatever Cheryl told the teacher had the teacher satisfied that nobody was up to anything bad in the locker room and leaving and once they had, Cheryl shut the door quickly. Leaning against it with her hand over her heart. “Whew. That was so close.”

Veronica sank down on the bench in front of me, the first aid kit we kept in the locker room open and across her lap.

“This is going to hurt, Al. I’m sorry in advance.” Veronica winced as she started to apply hydrogen peroxide to the few scratches on the side of my face and cheek.

All I could do was nod. Because I was still coming down from the adrenaline.

“If she messes with you again after this, she’s clearly an idiot.” Veronica spoke up after a few seconds. I shrugged. “Oh, she’s not done with me yet. But it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t stop it before all hell broke loose.” Cheryl spoke up, wincing as I looked up at her and laughed it off, shaking my head. Trying to flinch away from Veronica as she came at my face with a cold and damp washcloth to clean the blood away from underneath my nose.

“Cheryl, trust me. I’m fine. I can handle myself. You guys were trying to count the votes, it’s not a big deal. Besides. I needed to stand up for myself.”

“I know, but if I’d been in here, I could’ve stopped her.” Cheryl butted in, gently but firmly.

“I should’ve stood up to her way before now, if I’m being honest. Take the high road, they said. It’s better in the long run, they said. That’s a load.” I grumbled.

“Ouch fuck ouch hey.. Can you wipe less painfully?” I pleaded with Veronica.

She grimaced and muttered an apology.

“I can’t wait to hear about this crap later. Or try explaining it to my dad and Archie. Archie’s going to take the chance to spin this so that somehow, it’s anybody’s fault but mine.” I grumbled, shaking my head, disgusted at the thought.

“He’s just being a protective brother.”

“I wish sometimes he’d not do that.. So much. Did you know that he just stood back and let Reggie and Sweet Pea fight earlier when the team went to cut everyone loose?”

“I’m still angry with my father about that.” Veronica muttered, adding a second later, “But, that’s typical of him, though. He’s not happy until he owns everything and everyone.” Veronica fumed, shaking her head with a disgusted look on her face.

I bit my lip, nodding. Keeping my own opinions on the subject to myself. Because it’s not like she can control what her parents choose to do. And she tries to be better, she tries to make it so that there’s a very clear and obvious difference between herself and her parents, but with parents like hers, you wind up having to get your hands dirty sooner or later.

I’d just finished getting dressed and stepped into the hallway, finding Sweet Pea leaning against the wall.

“What the fuck was going on in there?”

I shrugged.

Mandy walked past with her friends and Sweet Pea looked from Mandy back at me. Grimacing as he caught sight of my face. Stepping closer.

“Did she do that?” he eyed me in concern. Tensing up a little. The soft edge to his voice had my heart fluttering a little, but as fast as that started, I was quick to shove it down. Reminding myself that Sweet Pea only tolerated me because we happened to share two friends in common. His hand raised, gingerly touching at a bruise forming along my jaw. Hissing as he shook his head. I tensed a little because now that the adrenaline was completely gone and the shock I’d been in or whatever for the duration of my fight was wearing off too and now everything just plain hurt.

“Mhm.” I answered quietly, swallowing down a lump as it formed in my throat. Gazing up at him. I blinked when my body brushed up against his, not aware that I’d stepped closer to him.

“Did you do.. All that?” he nodded to where she stood at her locker in the hallway, glaring daggers in my direction, her friends flocking her.

“I hope you’re prepared to pay for Amanda’s broken nose, you crazy witch.” Kaylie called out calmly. “Her mother is going to make sure you pay for the fight.”

Mandy smirked at me. “I can’t wait to tell my mother everything. I’m almost as excited to talk to her about the way you’ve been bullying me as I am to post the video of you wandering the hallway of our high school in underwear.”

I tensed, taking a step away from Sweet Pea and forward in the hallway. Sweet Pea reached out quickly, grabbing me up and away by my hips. Putting me behind him as he eyed Mandy calmly. “You really don’t value your life at all, do ya?”

Mandy eyed him, gulping.

“It’s a simple question, Mandy.” Sweet Pea shrugged, smirking a little.

“What are you gonna do, Serpent? I can make one call and have you arrested.”

I growled from behind Sweet Pea. “Try it you fucking gremlin. Try it.” I threatened.

“Enough.” Sweet Pea’s tone was calm and firm as he looked from Mandy to me, folding his arms over his chest. I went quiet and Mandy’s lip quivered a little as she gazed up at him.

“What you’re gonna do, Mandy… Erase whatever you recorded. If you don’t, you’re really not going to like what happens.” Sweet Pea stepped closer to her, giving a menacing scowl as he towered over her.

Just the way he said it had a slow and lazy heat settling in the pit of my stomach. Had my breath catching in my throat because of just the tone he took… You’d think he was my actual boyfriend. He was acting more like one than any of my past boyfriends, Reggie included.

If I were more hopeful, I’d almost want to say he meant every word of the threat he made to Mandy.

Mandy hurried off and Sweet Pea turned, settling his gaze on me. Eyeing my nose critically and grimacing. “It’s not broken. What the hell happened?”

“She was practically leaning against the damn door so when I threw it open, it hit her in the nose. She went to swing at me, I threw her against a locker… Then it kind of spiralled out of control from there?” I shuffled my feet, going fidgety under his intent and concerned gaze.

“Who locked the door?” Sweet Pea asked, admitting a few seconds later, “I tried the handle when I saw Mrs. Ellis heading for the locker room. I heard all the yelling and every time somebody hit a locker or the wall, so I figured something was going on in there… I was gonna warn you...”

“Oh, that was Cheryl. She wasn’t going to risk anybody going to get a teacher to come in and break it up.” I gave a soft laugh, shaking my head. I nodded towards the doors at the end of the empty hallway.

“We should probably get going. The last place I want to be locked in overnight is here.”

“Yeah, I was waiting on Fangs, but apparently, he ditched me.” Sweet Pea shrugged. I raised a brow, because that wasn’t like Fangs. Usually if he said he’d be somewhere, he was there.

“I haven’t seen him since lunch, come to think of it.” I spoke up after a few seconds.

“He probably bailed. He’s probably already at the Wyrm.” Sweet Pea shrugged. I nodded, agreeing.

“So.. ready?” I asked. Trying my best not to get my hopes up. Preparing myself for Sweet Pea to suggest going to my dad’s or to Pops instead of going to the Wyrm. Shocked more than a little bit when Sweet Pea smirked and nodded.

“Yeah. Just so you know, Cherry… If you think for one second you’re wiping me off the leaderboard, not gonna happen.” he chuckled as we walked down the hall and he paused to push the door open for me.

About halfway to the Wyrm, my hand brushed against his. I glanced down, biting my lip. Debating heavily on just grabbing hold of his hand.

Because friends held hands, right?

I mean.. I held hands with Cheryl and Toni all the time.

Except deep down, I knew that was not even remotely the real motive behind holding Sweet Pea’s hand. The simplest truth was that I just… Couldn’t stop myself from doing something. Anything.

I took a deep breath and carefully, I slipped my hand into his. Gazing down for a second or two after I’d done it. Shocked I’d actually had the damn nerve to go through with it. Even more shocked when Sweet Pea didn’t immediately scowl, tense up or let go.

Instead, his fingers laced with mine.

And like this morning, neither of us really mentioned it. But that tension that seemed to hang around us like a heavy cloud recently?

It got so very much thicker.

He pushed open the door to the Wyrm and I stepped under his arm, into the building. He stepped in behind me, nodding to a table with two chairs towards the back. Where it was a little quieter.

“We should be able to get everything finished back there, Cherry.”

I nodded. My eyes darted around. Finding it odd that the same people staring at me currently never even gave me a second look when I wandered in with Toni and Fangs.

I shoved the thought out of my head.

We were just two classmates.. Two friends.. Meeting to finish an assignment for school.

We made our way to the back of the bar, taking a seat at the table. At one point, while we were deep in rolling and making notes for the chart we’d been given and for our report we’d have to write later, FP wandered past.

“That’s good kid. Nice to see you actually takin school seriously. Don’t give Alyssa a hard time, buddy.” he flashed Sweet Pea a smirk and Sweet Pea nodded. Smirking right back at FP.

“People are looking at us like you’re doing something wrong.” I leaned in and whispered when I just couldn’t take the way people were watching like a hawk anymore and it had me curious.

Sweet Pea glanced up and around, shrugging. “ Most of the older guys think it’s impossible to be friends with a girl and won’t bring one around unless they’re involved with her. Is it bothering you?” he gazed at me, that concerned look in his eyes again.

I shook my head profusely. Taking a sip of the wild cherry pepsi that FP had brought over to us to drink earlier and wanting to kick myself for even mentioning it, because I had a feeling I’d probably just made things awkward.

And that was the very thing I was trying to avoid.

We finally finished rolling for genetic traits and I finished up the sketch I’d been doing.

“Okay. If you laugh I swear to God.” I gazed at Sweet Pea nervously as I shoved the sketch pad across the table to him.

“Did you just do this?” he asked, staring at the sketch.

“Yeah. I’m not the best.”

I reached for the sketch pad. But not before it flipped a few pages and settled on a drawing I’d done of Sweet Pea when he hadn’t been paying attention one day while we were all hanging out in here, playing the Mortal Kombat arcade game.

Lucky for me, he saw that I’d done sketches of Toni and Cheryl sharing a Twizzler at lunch one day and Fangs working on his motorcycle in the parking lot before school one morning. When he got to the sketch I’d done of Reggie, he scowled a little.

“I wanted to burn that too but Cheryl convinced me if I ever decided to actually get off my ass and apply to art school after I’m done with Riverdale High, it’d be good for my portfolio. She literally tried to throw herself on the fire to stop me from burning all the sketches I did of Reggie.” I laughed quietly, wincing as I shook my head.

Every time I caught myself thinking about the fact that I’d been taken in by a charming smirk and flirtatious mannerisms and the charisma of one Reggie Mantle, it only reminded me how gullible I was. How soft-hearted.

You’d think that getting involved with a guy who all but stalked me and tried to spread nasty rumors and suggestive pictures of me that I never should’ve sent in the first place when I finally got smart enough to break it off with him before leaving Chicago would be enough to teach me.

Apparently, it wasn’t. Because I came here and what’d I do? I got involved with Reggie Mantle. And now, that was over and I was starting to feel things for Sweet Pea, a guy who probably only tolerated me because we shared friends in common.

That was another huge reason I was not keen on opening myself up too quickly all over again. I might not always make the best choices, but even I had the common sense to know that I needed time… I needed to bounce back. Figure things out on my own.

And all of that was another huge reason I was determined to keep whatever I was starting to feel for Sweet Pea close to the vest. The more I could keep whatever I felt at bay, the better off I’d be. Because realistically, I just didn’t dare hope.

I was starting to realize I just couldn’t trust my own judgement when it came to emotional things. Until I got to a place where I could, I was doing the best thing I could for me.

Something tells me this is going to be so much harder than I could ever imagine though.

The door to the bar flew open and Toni barged in. Over to the table Sweet Pea and I were sitting at.

“Have you talked to Cheryl at all this afternoon?” Toni asked in a rush.

“I tried to call her earlier but it kept going to voicemail. And we were just saying earlier that Fangs is MIA too…” I rubbed my temples. I had the sneaking suspicion that I knew exactly what might have happened to Cheryl, because not so long ago, her mother had kind of caught wind of her relationship with Toni. And her mother was not thrilled.

I grumbled, digging in my jeans pocket for my phone.

It clicked for Toni that Sweet Pea and I had come to the Wyrm. Alone. Without her or Fangs present to act as a buffer.

“You’re here together, fuck. I’m sorry. I’m just.. I’m freaking out right now.” Toni glanced from me to Sweet Pea and then back again. “Are you two finally going to stop being snipey assholes and get along though?”

Sweet Pea shrugged, giving me a teasing smirk. “Maybe she’s not so bad… For a princess.”

“Maybe you’re not so bad either. For a giant grumpy asshole.” I teased right back. Feeling my cheeks burn hot just a little at the look in his eyes and the way he put emphasis on the word princess.

Because no, that did not help my current ongoing mental dilemma at all.

“You’re staying with me until we figure out this situation with Cheryl, right?” I asked Toni. Toni nodded, stealing a sip of my Pepsi. “I swear to God, if her mother’s hurt her…”

“If her mother’s done anything to her, she’s going to answer to both of us. I’ve got your back, Topaz.” I spoke up, giving Toni a reassuring look. I tried to call Cheryl again on my phone, but it went straight to voicemail too. I frowned at it, putting my phone away.

Toni eyed me and then glanced in Sweet Pea’s direction as if she were indicating that she wanted details later tonight when we were back at my dad’s place. Mouthing to me, “Well?”

I shook my head, shrugging. “We were just finishing that thing for Biology.” I mouthed. Glancing at my cell phone. I was not getting a good feeling at all. And the more Cheryl’s phone rang and went to voicemail, the more that bad feeling grew.

“It’s going to voice. He’s normally here already if he ditches.” Sweet Pea swore to himself and shook his head.

“Wait.. he got called to the office right after lunch.” Toni spoke up. Swearing when she tried to call Cheryl yet again and the call went to Cheryl’s voicemail as it had just done for me. She shoved her phone into her pocket and took a few deep breaths. “Maybe she just went to sit with her Nana. They haven’t let her out of the hospital yet, I don’t think.. That has to be it.”

The door flew open again and this time, my brother and Jughead were rushing in. Stopping to talk to a few of the other Serpents we went to school with who were present. Whatever Jughead told them had them rushing out the door in a hurry. I eyed them but quickly turned my attention back to the situation at hand involving our two missing friends. Trying to retrack the events of the day. I remembered it then, Fangs had been called to the office during lunch and after that, I hadn’t seen him again.

We had the second to last class of the day together. He hadn’t been there.

“You guys have to get out of here. Get everyone out of here and out of this side of town now. They’re about to raid the Wyrm.” Jughead and my brother rushed over to us. My brother let out a ragged breath when he caught sight of me. “Thank god. There you are. I was worried when I couldn’t find you. What the hell happened to your face, pixie?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll explain later.. You guys. Explain. What the fuck do you mean we have to get out of here? Archie, what’s going on? What have you let that jackass talk you into this time?”

“Nothing! It’s something I overheard, okay, look. I know you’re still pissed at me. But you guys need to get everyone together and get the hell off of this side of town, okay? Just trust me. Do it. I told Dad what was going on and he said that we could put people up until FP figured something out.”

Sweet Pea eyed my brother with a wary look. I eyed him too, wondering briefly if this were some kind of a trick that Hiram put him up to. Wondering how the hell he managed to get Jughead in on it if it were.

“What the hell is going on tonight?” I wondered aloud after a few seconds.Not even ten seconds later, one of the older bikers wandered in, getting a hold of FP, taking him to the back to talk.

“Are you makin this up, Andrews? Is this a trap? Because to me, that’s what it feels like.” Sweet Pea tensed. His fists clenched at his side and my brother shook his head. “No. This is me. Trying to make up for all of the other stuff, okay? Look. Hiram set the whole thing up this afternoon after he got done arranging to have Fangs arrested earlier.”

“He’s not lying. I just went down the the station, man. Fangs is there. They’re holding him for questioning and they won’t say a fucking word about why he’s even there. And while I was there, I heard some of the guys in the break room joking about how fun it was going to be, cracking some Serpent skulls tonight. If we leave now, they have nothing. They don’t get any evidence, they can’t make any arrests.” Jughead explained impatiently. “We have to go. We needed to be gone ten minutes ago, if you want the honest fucking truth, Pea.”

“Dad really said he’d let them hide in our house. You’re not lying.” I questioned my brother, gazing up at him. Standing taller. “Because I swear to God, Archie, if this is a trap.. If any more of my friends get arrested because you have a burning desire to be Hiram Lodge’s long lost son or whatever the fuck it is you want to accomplish.”

My brother cut me off. “I’ve been working undercover. I wasn’t supposed to tell you anything. I wasn’t supposed to say anything to anyone, actually. Getting close to Hiram is… for the greater good.”

“Uh huh.You mean like the actual greater good or the oh look, pops bought me a ferrari for christmas because I’m a good little fucking stooge greater good?” I questioned, a brow raised and my hand on my hip.

“Al, we can finish this argument once your friends have their shit and they’re heading back to our side of town. I’ll gladly finish this discussion then. Dad sent me and Jugs to get everyone away from here.”

“I don’t know..”

Sweet Pea cleared his throat. “I’m not saying I trust you, Andrews. But I’m willing to take what Jugs says with a grain of salt. He is one of us now.”

Toni and I exchanged a surprised look, but then everyone started to rush around and gather their things as quick as they could. And as soon as we were all out in the alley behind the Wyrm, the first of at least six police cars came flying by, blue lights flashing and sirens blazing.

I let out a ragged breath and glanced up at Sweet Pea. When I caught on to the fact that he was both angry and silently freaking out, I reached down, gently grabbing hold of his pinkie finger with mine. Giving him a weak smile when I glanced up at him.

He didn’t smile back, but as we rounded the corner and promptly had to find another alley to go down to hide because another cop car rushed past, I felt him squeeze my pinkie finger with his more than a time or two.

Almost the second we crossed over into the North Side, I realized just how eerie and quiet it was.

Too quiet.

Nobody was saying anything. We were all too tired from running. Hiding.

At one point, Toni reached down and grabbed the hand of mine closest to her, giving it a squeeze as she muttered into my ear quietly, “I hope Cheryl is okay.”

“We’ll get up to my room and figure something out, okay?” I promised in a whisper.

And on the other side of me, I felt Sweet Pea’s hand lazily close on mine. A squeeze so light that I honestly didn’t think he even realized he’d done it.

It took a few seconds, but I dared to glance down. Eyes fixing on the way his hand engulfed mine. His fingers laced between my fingers. Before I could stop myself, I dragged my thumb knuckle lazily over his palm. Gave his hand a similar light squeeze as I glanced up at Toni to pretend I wasn’t aware I’d done it.

Once we were all in my dad’s house, FP showed up. Explaining that he was currently trying to figure out somewhere everyone could go. Letting people who’d gotten separated from family during the whole scramble to leave whether their people made it and were incoming or at another place that FP had taken the other half of South Side to keep the cops from finding everyone at once or whether they’d been caught and were going to need bail.

My dad and Archie took over the kitchen with the help of FP and Jughead, making food for everyone. Once everyone else was set up and occupied and there wasn’t anything else I could do to help my dad and my brother, I went to go find Toni and we slipped out of the chaos downstairs, retreating up to my room.

The second the door was closed behind me, Toni spoke up.

“You don’t think Penelope killed her.”

“Toni, no. But I do think that she’s keeping her somewhere. Remember Cheryl telling us that she needed to tell us something important? I think that whatever she was going to tell us is the reason we can’t find her right now. Her mother makes Joan Crawford look like a fucking saint.” I fell back across my bed and stared at the ceiling. Sitting up a few minutes later.

“Hey, that girl in my English class… her mom’s a nurse. I can ask if Cheryl’s been there to sit with her nana.”

I dug my phone out and texted the girl in question. Frowning when the girl answered that she’d been there earlier, but she’d left to go home.

“She’s not there. Okay, I do not like the way this feels.”

“Me either.”

We sat in silence on my bed for a few minutes, trying to figure out a way to find out what happened to Cheryl. As I tried to think of places she might have gone or hidden at, I texted my mom about Fangs being kept at the station.

She texted me back, asking if I knew why they were holding him and I texted her back that we were trying to figure out why and we were hoping she’d call and scare someone into giving some form of an answer.

I frowned when she called a few minutes later and explained that she hadn’t been able to get anything. She asked what the hell was going on in town tonight, telling me that while she’d been talking to the secretary at the station, she’d heard a lot of yelling and angry chanting from outside. And a lot of whispering and hushed laughing.

I told her about the raid and I told her about Midge’s body being found during the school play. I told her that people had been starting rumors for whatever reason that Fangs might have done it, because Midge and Fangs had something going on.

“You’re staying out of trouble though, right? With your brother going through whatever it is he’s going through, sweetie…”

“About that.. I kind of got into a fight. But none of the teachers know. Nobody saw it.”

My mom sighed and I frowned, tensing up a little at a possible lecture incoming. When it started, I sat there with the phone away from my ear, letting her go on for a few minutes before I explained calmly, “I’m not going to stand back and be a doormat either, mom. And since Archie is doing all this and showing his entire ass, I need to take care of my own problems. Mandy was a problem, I solved it. End of discussion.”

“First of all, don’t take that tone with me. Second of all.. Does your father know? Did you tell him any of what you just told me?”

“No. I only told you what I just did to get you off my back. Mom.. I’m.. I love you and I’m sorry. I can’t be perfect and I can’t be something I’m not.”

“I’m not asking you to be perfect. I’m asking you to stay out of trouble.”

“It doesn’t feel like that though.”

We exchanged tense goodnights and goodbyes and I ended the call, tossing my phone at the top of my vanity as I flopped back against my bed.

“Ever feel like the black sheep?” I wondered aloud. Feeling bad about it after I said it, because I realized that Toni literally only had the Serpents, Cheryl and her grandfather and me. I palmed my face and shook my head, ashamed. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I get it. My grandpa and I argue a lot.” Toni gave me a sympathetic nod.

I shook my head at myself. “I swear, my mom and I are constantly butting heads. It’s part of the reason I never understood why she insisted I was the one to go to Chicago with her and that Archie stay here in Riverdale with Dad.”

“Probably because trust me. There are some things that men are not equipped to deal with.”

“I mean, true, but…”

Toni laughed quietly. Stretching a little. “Maybe Cheryl just wanted some space. I haven’t found anything out from anyone else.”

“All I know is what she told me before she left practice. She was going to see her Nana Rose again.”

“Yeah, she told me that too. But she’s been jumpy all day. Like she’s scared.”

“I noticed too.” I agreed, nodding. “Maybe she’ll be at school tomorrow. If she’s not, we’ll ditch and try to find answers or something.”

“Yeah. I’m too wiped to think anymore right now and if I do, I’m going to drive myself insane. And if I do that, we both know I’m going to go off and do something fucking dumb.” Toni admitted as she pulled back the cover on the other side of my bed.

“You’re cool with sharing a bed? I mean, all things considered.”

“Please,I know you have a very specific type of red-head and it ain’t me... Besides. You’re my friend. I’m not making you sleep on the floor.” I answered, gathering my things because I figured that everyone who was planning to shower tonight had probably done so already.

I made my way down the hall, reaching for the handle to the bathroom door right as Sweet Pea pulled it open from the other side. With a towel wrapped around his waist. I spun around, immediately going red in the face. “Shit, fuck. I’m sorry, I.. I thought everyone had already gotten a shower and gone to sleep?” I called out without daring to turn around and face him.

He cleared his throat. “Nah. I told Archie to go before me. I’m the one staying in your house. Didn’t want to intrude.” he tapped my shoulder when he’d pulled on his jeans and I turned around. He took a step forward to come out the door at the same time that I took a step forward to go in the door. We wound up body to body in the hallway. I gazed up at him, licking my lips.

He grimaced as his eyes settled on the bruise on my jaw from the fight earlier in the afternoon. “Did you show your dad? That looks a lot worse now.” His voice took on a concerned tone.

I shook my head. “Nope. I already had more than enough lecturing about it from my mom earlier when I called to get her to see if she could find out anything about why Fangs was arrested and being held.”

Sweet Pea raised a hand, dragging it through damp hair. A droplet of water trickled down his forehead. Then dropped onto his nose, rolling down it’s slope. When it dripped down and rolled down his lips, my eyes were glued to it’s movement. He cleared his throat, repeating the question that he’d asked me I apparently hadn’t heard. “Did she find out anything?”

“Just that they’re holding him until they have to let him go. If I had to guess though, it’s because people were saying crap about him and Midge having a thing going..” I muttered quietly. Shuffling my feet against worn wooden floorboards.

“At least you tried.” he muttered quietly, gazing down at me. His eyes darted to my bruises and scrapes from my fight with Mandy earlier and he cleared his throat. “You should go tell your dad what happened. Just in case she is dumb enough to upload anything she might have recorded and we can’t coerce her into taking it down on our own.”

“If she does, she does. Won’t be the first time something like that happened.” I blurted it out, going quiet as soon as I realized I had. Tensing a little because I really hoped that he didn’t pay it any attention. Or that he didn’t push to know what I meant.I wasn’t even sure why it slipped out. I fidgeted a little, nervous. He eyed me, but luckily, he didn’t ask for further details.

The last thing I wanted right now was for him to know exactly how stupid and pathetic I was and still am. If he knew I’d been dumb enough to sext Dave and Dave had turned and used the photos against me or any of the other shit that I got into in Chicago… I pushed the intrusive thought out of my head.

“Cherry?” Sweet Pea muttered quietly. His eyes fixing on mine. Hints of a smirk playing at his lips. As quickly as the thought came ,, he has literally no idea just how devastatingly handsome he really is, I swear to God.” I hurried to shove it out. Bury it way down deep. Try to ignore the way I felt the slightest flutter of my heart. Or the way my throat seemed to close up when I realized that we were migrating closer to each other and that his hand was brushing against my hip just barely.

“Yeah, Pea?” I finally managed to pull myself together enough to get out the words. Gazing right back up at him, falling in right over my head and virtually powerless to stop it from happening.

“Night.” he yawned as he stepped out of the doorway, making his way back downstairs. From the sound of it, my brother had dragged out one of his old gaming systems. And apparently, he and a few other Serpents were sitting up, playing some long forgotten game. I made my way away from where I’d been peering down the stairs just to make sure that things weren’t tense between everyone and I turned, slipping into the bathroom.

Turning on the hot water and leaning against the wall, letting it cascade down onto my body from above. Just… trying to process the entire craziness of the day so far.

By the time I slipped into my side of the bed, Toni was already asleep, wearing my black velvet eye mask over her eyes. I found one of my other ones and slipped it down over my eyes.

And it seemed like in literally no time, I was out like a light. Exhausted from everything that had gone down in one day.

#sweetpea fanfiction #sweetpea imagine #sweetpea fanfic #sweetpea imagines #sweetpea fic #my writing ; sweetpea #my fanfiction ; sweetpea #my fics ; sweetpea

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blxxdyvalentine19xx · 3 years

Text

I lost my dick 🍆

Mod Sun x Fenix (ftm character)

Warnings: light smut, swearing, mentions of ice dick.

**I almost named myself Fenix when I came out as ftm in high school, I found it cool that Fenix is the name of a character in Downfalls High**

Fenix was frantically searching across every possible space in his boyfriend's house that he could have possibly left his packer. Being neuro divergent and a trans male made for interesting times and weird phrases. "For fucks sake! Where the hell did I leave it this time?" He half growled; looking up when he felt Derek's hands on his shoulders. "What?"

"Take a breath and chill out for a second" Derek ran his hands over Fenix's shoulders lightly and brought his boyfriend into a hug. "What did you loose this time?" He asked softly; carding a hand through his boyfriend's hair.

Swallowing his pride; Fenix shook his head, hiding it in Derek's hoodie. "I lost my dick" he mumbled quietly; slipping his arms around the taller man's neck.

The fact that his boyfriend is transgender excaped his mind, so the sentence caught him of guard "how...what...huh?" His brows furrowed in thought as he tipped Fenix's head up. "How in the hell..." Derek hesitated; "are you high?"

Fenix punched Derek's shoulder lightly; rolling his eyes and grinning. "Not high just trans" he teased; kissing his boyfriend's cheek. "I really don't know where I left it this time" Fenix rarely broke composure enough to ask Derek; asking his boyfriend was a last ditch effort.

"Oh right, you're not cis" Derek smiled as Fenix punched at his shoulder. "Of course you don't" he kissed the man's forehead and thought for a moment. "Did you look in the freezer? You've found it there before." Derek's hand grazed over the small of Fenix's back.

Hanging his head; Fenix sighed and shook his head. "Don't remind me; I still don't know how that happened." He blushed before slipping out of Derek's arms. "But yes, I did check the freezer" even then there was a good chance he probably looked right at it and missed it.

Colson was over at Mod's working on a few songs with his friend when he made a bee line to the freezer after a popsicle. "For God's sake" he said when he looked up; met with a very realistic but silicone looking dick. "Fenix, think I found your dick, buddie" Colson ruffled a hand through his own unruly bleach blonde hair.

Looking up from the piece he was working on; Fenix blinked a few times, his tongue in his cheek as he let go of a defeated groan. "You probably did, I kind of lost it." He mumbled, looking at the rapper. "At least I know where it is now"

Hearing what Colson said; Derek chuckled and smiled. "That seems to be a regular thing now, isn't the first time." He texted out a message to Fenix reading 'leave it, might be of use later 💦'

"Somehow I believe you Mod" Colson shrugged and got himself a blue raspberry popsicle and Mod a green one, he needed a sugar fix and this would have to suffice.

Reading the text his boyfriend sent him; Fenix's eyes drew up towards his boyfriend. Raising an eyebrow; he shook his head flipping Derek the bird. "Maybe, depending on time that is" Fenix grinned as he jumped from the stool he was sat on and went over to Derek. "You dirty little fucker" he mumbled into the man's ear as he ran his hands into Derek's hair.

"Trust when I say I'll make time" Derek hummed; slipping a hand into the back pocket of Fenix's jeans. "Not my fault it feels good taking it up the ass." He mumbled into a kiss and squeezed his boyfriend's ass. "May as well take advantage of the unconventional idea"

Coming back In after a successful day in the studio; Derek smiled as he found Fenix on the couch focused on an episode of 'Shameless'. "Hey" he mumbled; slipping his arms around Fenix's neck from behind.

"Hey Der" he nuzzled close to Derek's arm. "What's up?" Fenix kissed Derek's wrist and looked up at his boyfriend. Pausing the show in the process.

"Mm a little horny" Derek's hand wrapped around his boyfriend's throat as he kissed Fenix. "Mind taking the top tonight?" He asked; nipping at the man's lip.

Mumbling something under his breath; Fenix hummed as Derek's grip tighted a little. "Not at all, baby" he kissed back and cupped the back of Derek's head. "Bedroom" Fenix caught a breath once Derek let go and bit his lip.

He nodded and let go of a breath as Fenix looked at him; the man's blue eyes dark in contrast to usual. Derek had found himself being more comfortable lately with not being as in control and reveled in how Fenix was able to make him love being submissive.

Letting the cold metal ball of his tongue ring dip into Derek's belly button; Fenix grinned as Derek was already writhing under him from being teased. "Barely touched you and you're a sweet mess already, baby"

"C'mere" Derek half whined; kissing Fenix lightly and humming into it as the man looked at him. "Do us both the favour and please fuck me" he mumbled into another kiss and squeezed at Fenix's shoulders as his (Derek's) boyfriend eased into him gently.

Biting back a blush; Fenix had the instinct to hide in his boyfriend's neck as Derek let out a sound between a moan and a hiss.

"No, no, you're not hiding" Derek spoke between a moan and a shiver. "Look at me, right here" he pulled his boyfriend's head back up and grinned as Fenix's cheeks were pink with a blush. "I don't care, you know it's of no difference to me, I love you and can't get enough of how you make me feel"

Feeling Derek's hand return to his neck; fenix nodded and kissed his boyfriend. "I know that" he mumbled and ended up somewhat laughing when Derek effortlessly rocked his hips and pulled him (Fenix) forward. Taking it as a cue to move; Fenix rolled his hips slowly.

Arching his hips; Derek bit his lip letting himself relax and focus on both the cold and the gentle rocking of Fenix's hips. "Fucking hell, yes" his breath shook as Fenix kissed him softly.

Hiding his face in the pillow; Fenix ended up throwing it at Derek as the latter peppered him in kisses and grinned basically praising him. "Not bad for me not being a top" he mumbled and trapped his boyfriend in a cuddle.

"You do alright for being a bottom" Derek kissed Fenix and ran his hand up the his boyfriend's back. "You get in your head too much about not thinking you're enough" he whispered; looking at Fenix who gave him a warning look.

"Force of habit" Fenix whispered back hearing Derek's words. "I always worry about not being enough" he raked his fingers along his boyfriend's chest and sighed. "You're so damned chill about it and I don't know how not to be worried about all the things I know won't happen" Fenix nuzzled close to Derek and smiled as he was pulled upwards so he was laying on top of his boyfriend.

Derek pulled Fenix on top of him and shifted so he was comfortable. "You're more than all that, baby" his hands ghosted the tonic Fenix's thighs. "You make me realize who my own insecurities are small compared to what you go through every day" Derek's finger ghosted the tattoo of what he now realized was the beach they went to on their first official date.

Fenix watched as Derek thumbed the tattoo on his (Fenix's) leg. "Got it after we called it a night, kells did it for me." He smiled and covered his eyes as Derek kissed it. "That's why it has your logo in the middle" Fenix relaxed when Derek looked up at him.

"I recognize my boy's work, he did a good job of it" Derek smiled up at Fenix and slipped a hand under his head. "I like it, you seemed like you felt free that day" he let his messy hair cover his eyes as Fenix's fingers ran through it. "He sees you like a little brother" Derek spoke and stuck his tongue out at his boyfriend. "He threatened to beat my ass if I fucked it up that night"

"He's done a few of mine actually" Fenix said; whilst playing with his boyfriend's hair. "Kells did this one the day I started T" he took Derek's hand and ran one of his boyfriend's finger along his (Fenix's) waist. "He said it's supposed to remind me what it took for me to get that far."

Definitions:

Packer: (silicone penis used by some frm transgender individuals, simillar to a dildo and can be used sexually if so desired)

Neurodivergent: an atypical neurological configuration, for example a person who has a developmental disorder and/or a mental illness.

Cis: cisgendered - someone who is assigned male\female and identifies with their assigned gender.

#mod sun #derek ryan smith #ftm transgender #trans character #mod sun fanfiction #mod sun smut

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ganymedesclock · 4 years

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Ghirahim and gendered expectations of sensuality

So, as people who’ve seen my previous Zelda posts might gather, I have a mixed relationship with Skyward Sword. On the one hand, I think many of its characters have tremendous potential. On the other, I feel like the game largely did not live up to that potential, and in some areas, it feels rather deliberate. But suffice to say, elements of Skyward Sword have meant that certain characters- Batreaux, Groose, Fi, and Ghirahim are not far from my mind.

A brief primer, for those who might be unfamiliar: Ghirahim is the main antagonist of Skyward Sword, and a bit of an aberration in the common Zelda formula, which tends to introduce a ‘decoy’ or “lieutenant” antagonist who dominates for most of the game and then bows out towards the end as the prelude to the true final boss- usually Ganondorf, in Skyward Sword’s case, it’s the demon god and a figure we are clearly supposed to scan as Ganondorf’s divine progenitor, Demise.

Ghirahim is quite openly a harbinger of, and servant to, Demise- where he breaks script is by being extremely proactive. We run into Ghirahim in most dungeons in the game, where he is not waiting idly for us, but doing actions that veteran Zelda players might recognize as comparable to Link’s: he breaks into dungeons either chasing Zelda, or chasing information that will allow him to proceed. We also have not one but three different fights with him, personally, and several other times he concedes that he doesn’t have time to play with Link and instead sics a boss monster on him.

The other thing about Ghirahim is, I will outright say it: He is written as a caricature of a predatory queer man.

He’s shown to be literally bloodthirsty, and presented by the narrative ostensibly as someone who has a sinister, perverse interest in both Link and Zelda, a contrast to their saintly, chaste union (which is supposed to read as a union; pursue a romantic sideplot with Peatrice, another girl in the game, and Fi will pretty much openly admonish you for cheating on Zelda, saying that Zelda wouldn’t be happy to know Link’s seeing someone and that Link should know that)

This is, really, a bit jarring, when Ghirahim’s actual dialogue suggests that he has very little interest in Link and views him much like a butler tending the master’s house while the latter is away might view a feral golden retriever that’s running loose in the place and getting mud on everything. His emotional range runs from warmly patronizing to exasperated to a truly dangerous degree (since, in this metaphor, the butler has also been tending the master’s house in near-total isolation for something like several centuries not having real conversations with the other servants and nobody’s at their psychological best in those situations even if they weren’t implicitly born and raised to murder).

Basically: that Ghirahim has no real interest in Link- not his body or appearance or anything. In his own dialogue, he seems confused by the idea that he’s at all interested, is apologetic that he’s wasting his time or dawdling and in his final scene, offers a genuinely flummoxed “you... who are you?” He offers colorful, violent threats, but when Link obstinately faces him again, he’s shown to be almost embarrassed and disgusted by them, and tries something else that almost no Zelda antagonist does: on multiple occasions, he tells Link to just walk away from the situation with what appears to be every intent of letting him go.

Ghirahim does not want Link for himself. He seems to, begrudgingly, against his own intentions, value Link as someone to fight against, but this connection does not actualize within the story- they are not really rivals. He isn’t even that deeply fond of the idea of Link’s blood, though he’s a proponent of blood as a vague concept.

Now, I like Ghirahim. I don’t think that even the read of Ghirahim as a queer man is a terrible one. But it definitely is interesting the lens in which Ghirahim’s implicit sensuality is cast. Basically, he is depicted as creeping on Link, without any real sense that he wants Link. Because it isn’t about what he wants- it’s about that implicitly he has a sexuality, and the idea of a man who might be attracted to other men is threatening, evil, and scary. Ghirahim wasn’t made queer-coded for representation’s sake. He was queer-coded to suggest he was depraved and motivated by a sinister lust. And the cruelty of this depiction is I think made immediately clear by- Ghirahim’s actual interests, passion, or preferences do not factor in here. That Scene Where Ghirahim Does The Tongue Thing is about how it is expected to make the player feel, and how implicitly Link feels.

What is Ghirahim’s type? Does he consider Demise beautiful? He makes it pretty clear he considers Link a brat. These are questions that aren’t asked, because it’s wrong that Ghirahim seems to have any sexuality at all- and, since Link is our lens and our guidepost for how we’re supposed to feel about characters, if Ghirahim behaves in a sensual manner it happens to Link, and to Zelda, invasively. Even though it is shown he feels no desire for any of these people, so that sensuality basically comes across like the game is firmly expecting us to find the idea of even an e-rated sensual male antagonist repulsive.

This led me down a very odd sort of rabbit trail.

Because Ghirahim- a bit indirectly- is inspired off a figure skater.

Specifically, Fi’s design was stated to evoke a figure skater, and we even see her ‘skating’ in several of the cutscenes. Ghirahim’s design matches Fi’s quite strongly; they were designed to be two of a kind.

I am not, myself, a figure skating buff, but a while ago, I happened across youtube videos of a skater named Johnny Weir.

Quickly, you can see the sword spirits’ inspirations; the close-fitting leotards, the lithe, acrobatic capabilities.

But here’s the thing about Johnny Weir: this is a guy putting on a sensual performance that is not a gross-out, a joke, or a threat. It’s basically impossible to find nothing suggestive in his choice of backup movement or the movements he makes running his hands along his body- his costume even asserts these more with the mirrored details on his gloves. This is a dude, acting in a way you could say is objectively sensual even if it may or may not stir every viewer given the individual nature of preference.

But there’s a world of difference to Weir’s performance. Not just that this is a voluntary choice made by a real person, while Ghirahim’s choices, even if they have in-game logic, are largely about Link and about the player- but Johnny Weir is having fun. He has a charming energy to him and is performing to a song he loves.

Watching Johnny Weir, it occurred to me, that regardless of Weir’s own orientation- that I do not know and will not speculate on- there’s a preconception around “being sexy”. Women are seen as supposed to be sexy (but, in many circles, not too sexy. Can’t insinuate they know what they’re doing, or have opinions and tastes...), or, more, “sexy is seen as a job that women do for men specifically.”

So, to homophobic audiences... a man deliberately enacting a sensual performance- a sense of what sensual looks like from a dude- is seen as weird, wild, and out there. If you’re not shocked by the implications that Ghirahim may be attracted to men, may be into Link, may be into the idea of torturing Link- then a certain amount of his writing kind of falls apart.

And comparing the way Ghirahim is animated and shot to Johnny Weir’s performance, it’s kind of... weak? Like, at one point in Weir’s routine, he lifts one leg and slides his fingertips down it in a smooth stroke from knee to thigh. It’s a steamy looking move, and this coming from someone who is so prodigiously ace I thought sexual attraction was made up for the first seventeen years of my life.

Ghirahim does not do that. He’s got thigh cutouts in his very close-fitting outfit, and has lines in his second fight about his body and how beautiful it is, but he does not make these movements that deliberately catch and draw the eye along the planes of him.

To me, I feel like besides this being a general affront against real queer people- the Zelda games have a concerning habit of depicting “eccentric, effeminate” men as either neutral characters or open villains and virtually always with this air of being the brunt of a joke (it’s very hard to imagine ALBW’s Yuga was designed by someone who earnestly loved this character)- it is also a bit rude to the character of Ghirahim himself.

Because Ghirahim, at the end of the day, is someone who ends the story heartbroken literally and figuratively. The entire game, he is driven by loyalty to Demise. He does not care who he hurts or threatens- and this comes back to the seeming implication that he is somewhat bloodthirsty, but vastly plays up his appetite for torture. When he thinks his goal is out of reach, he continues slogging away at it anyway, but listlessly. Everything he does, is for Demise. He is devoted enough to, late in the game, throw himself on Link’s sword for the third boss fight purely to stall for time until Demise revives.

Demise does not speak to Ghirahim, or acknowledge him, or even seemingly notice or care that by the time he comes back, Ghirahim’s metal heart has been torn open by being repeatedly stabbed by Link. (third boss fight is not kind.) Instead, he rips Ghirahim’s sword form out of his chest.

Ghirahim is a danger to Link, Impa, and Zelda, because he attacks them, and his own subordinates, because he threatens them. But to his master, he’s just a disposable pawn. This is a character driven by passion such that many of his poses and scenes show him nearly breaking into an actor’s soliloquy as he explains something to Link- and this is one way he does seem to like having Link around: he craves an audience.

And his passion is, in two ways, depicted as completely futile. First, in the dubious amount of oo scary gay man, watch out Link, he’s doing something weird with his tongue- and second and far more seriously, that everything he works for leaves him with nothing because his life never mattered for a second in the eyes of the person he lives and dies for.

Ghirahim is made a sensual character, but in a manner that feels bad faith- that feels like it has not thought about male sensuality in any direction besides “that’s wrong and icky, so we’ll attach it to our villain, who we want to be wrong and icky, and absolutely not suggest there’s anything particularly sad about what happens to him. His fault for being wrong and icky.”

#Legend of Zelda #Ghirahim #homophobia discussion #readmore

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akirameta84 · 3 years

Text

a scene written in the discord monarchy au, with me and @littleundertaletrash (Trash) as characters. it is not proofread because I wrote it late at night and just wanted to finish before bed. and even now its 2am so im just copying and pasting it onto tumblr. enjoy.

mentioned: @saikikslut (Moth), and @incorrect-saiki (my wife)

Honestly, what did they take her for? Swinging her legs back and forth, Akira was starting to get a little bit fed up. Time was of essence to her, and frankly no matter the payment, waiting over an hour to meet someone was a bit ridiculous. They had asked to meet her, not the other way around. What the hell has them held up? Having people schedule meetings to hire her was not uncommon, but usually they had the decency to show up. With her skill level as an assassin, she tended to be in high demand, so keeping her waiting was just asking for someone else to snap her up with a higher price.

Well, apparently just leaving was considered "rude" and "reputation ruining", and her wife promised her dessert if she stayed the whole time, so Akira wouldn't be ditching quite yet. Although another hour and she'd be at her wits end. Finally, thank god, it seemed Miss Has Better Things To Do had arrived, or the so called "Trash". She couldn't say anything about the name, (even though personally she thought it was, pfft, trash), nearly everyone had an alias. Only the truly close exchanged real names, like her and her wife.

Akira snorted when Trash walked into the room. The mask was hilarious, and it looked like she was trying to be cool to overcompensate for something else. Maybe her horrible sense of time? Not that she was still stewing over the wait time.

"Wow, I'm impressed you actually showed up! I was starting to think you'd ditched me," Never mind, definitely still stewing over that.

Trash just hummed noncommittally and gestured for her to follow, likely to a meeting room. Definitely playing at being overly edgy. People like this usually pissed her off, and it still did, but Trash was a faction leader, and likely very, very rich. Another reason not to loose her temper or ditch. This was also the first job she hadn't brought her wife to. They'd both agreed that a leader could be playing a trap, considering they had at some point definitely killed people on her side. If Akira died here today, her wife would be swift in making sure Trash's rule was tarnished. Permanently.

They reached the meeting room and she had to say, she was impressed. A large glass table sat in the middle, emitting a faintly blue glow. The walls were a deeper blue, while the floor a nice cream. At least Trash had some taste. It was still taking all of her will to not rip that mask off of her face, though. Sitting down, Akira stared into the emotionless face across the table. Jeez, she really was one of those types. Her charms rarely worked on the near emotionless, so she'd likely have to be on her best behavior instead. Tsk.

"Calm yourself. We'll get to that. I first want to know your success rate, and the weapons you use," Trash wasn't looking directly at her, almost like she was being dismissed. Okay, Akira would admit that she'd have to switch to "best behavior" mode. What an annoyance.

"Soooo, obviously you want to hire me. That's cool 'n all. I just want to know what you're paying," She started off, yawning. Okay, that was maybe a little, tiny bit rude, but dammit Trash had wasted her time first.

"Sorry, sorry. I stick to bladed weapons mainly. I've been known to have an 80% success rate," Akira kept her sentences short and choppy, otherwise she'd likely let something snarky slip. She had also fibbed a little bit on her success rate, but it'd be awhile until it was deemed safe enough to bring her wife. When working together, that rate was nearly a hundred.

"If you wish to work for me, sign this. I'll give you a bit to read it. Please don't take too long, I have other affairs to attend too," Akira resisted the urge to roll her eyes at that last statement. Did this meeting not count as an important affair? She gave a nod before turning down to the papers before her.

Trash hummed and reached behind them, pulling out a few papers. Where on earth did they get them from? Akira didn't recall a pouch or pocket. Whatever, it wasn't her business. The papers were slid across to her. A contract. She raised an eyebrow and looked at the leader. This early into the meeting? It reeked of suspicion. Trash must've seen her skeptical look, because she elaborated.

It was very detailed, she'd give her that. It layed out what exactly would be expected of her by working for the monarch, and all the other basics on seemingly every contract. She agreed with it, luckily. Of course before moving on to the section she wanted to see, Akira made sure to do a close inspection for hidden clauses or small texts. Trash didn't seem like the type of leader to play around, that was more Moth's cup of tea, but it never hurt to double check. Finally, she reached the payment section. And damn, was it a nice figure. Trash likely knew she worked for whoever payed the most, and was determined to have her. Mmm, she could likely double that figure if she brought her wife, but those were thoughts for the future.

As she looked up, there was a pen not so subtly placed next to her. Giving the paper one last glance over, she took a deep breath and grabbed the pen. Such a powerful person giving her this much freedom in the job, with a hefty pay? It would be a dream. Hesitating for a moment, Akira took another breath before signing her alias on the contract, and setting down the pen. Trash grabbed the papers and slowly slid them back over to herself, nodding. And if she looked hard enough, Akira would admit to seeing a small smirk on her face.

"So, you're with me then," Trash spoke up, breaking the lengthy silence. No expression sat on her face as they made eye contact.

"Well, unless someone pays me more..that'd be a yes," Akira snarked back, letting a grin cover her own face. Trash stood up, and gathered the contract papers in her hand, straightening them.

As the monarch walked towards the room's exit, she uttered something near Akira's ear, "Then each payment will get higher. I'm sure that will suffice," Something glowed in her hands, and was tossed back towards the assassin. Crystals? "You'll need these crystals, they are communicators of a sort. Do not loose them."

"Don't disappoint me," Ha, as if.

#discord monarchy #Akira scribbles #i woke up randomly at 2am and decided to post this oneshot I wrote right before bed

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gingerwritess · 5 years

Note

i dunno if anyones asked for this since you’ve said you have a bunch of requests but!! how about the moment loki realizes he wants to marry reader? like that Aha moment of “shes the one” sorta thing

no one has but i am SO GLAD that you did!

btw i never thank you all enough for commenting, reblogging, dropping asks, etc. it really keeps me going and i am forever and eternally grateful for all the support i just love you all so much ughhhhh thank yoU

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It’s three in the morning and something shatters. A window, on the second floor of the Avengers compound, completely and utterly obliterated—oops.

At the crash Loki flies from the bed, yanking himself out of the peaceful sleep he had just been enjoying. He’s already gripping a knife in his hand and he inches his way to the window, the shattered glass crunching under his footsteps, and he glances cautiously out the window to find—you?

Yes, you, the mortal fool he can’t help but proudly call his, are standing on the lawn below his window, not moving and staring back up at him with both hands clapped over your mouth in shock.

“What…what have you done?” Loki whisper yells down to you, a breath of relief leaving his lungs at seeing it’s just you. “Good gods, mortal, the sun hasn’t even risen!”

You just open your mouth in a silent scream, moving your hands up to grip your head—that wasn’t supposed to happen! Your arm isn’t even that good, definitely not enough power (or so you thought) to shatter Loki’s window like that.

“I was, uh, throwing rocks at your window! You know, Dicaprio’s Romeo and Juliet style?”

Even from your spot down on the grass, you can see Loki’s face scrunch up in confusion. “Oh my—are you ill? Intoxicated?? Who told you that was a good idea?”

“I thought you of all people would appreciate it.” You shrug and flash him a sheepish grin, shuffling your feet on the grass below his window. “I dunno, I was just trying to be romantic?”

“Romantic?! Darling, you shattered a window!” He hisses down to you, running a tired hand over his face. “It’s too early for this…meet me at the front door, I’ll be right down.”

For the record, it would have been perfectly romantic if the glass hadn’t broken, but since when has your relationship with Loki ever gone the way you expected? So you just grin up at him and bounce excitedly on the balls of your feet as he shakes his head at you, then you bolt to the door.

He’s there waiting for you when you round the corner, leaning his head against the doorway and squinting for you through the darkness of the early morning. “Now that you’re finished destroying this property, care to tell me why you’re here?” He halfheartedly returns your hug when you barrel into him and give him a good squeeze around the waist. “Oof. One of these days you’re going to crack a rib.”

“You awake yet?” You mumble and grin into his chest, not letting go until he sighs and melts into your embrace, relaxing his tense muscles and letting himself just be hugged.

“Hardly. Why in all the nine realms are you here at this ungodly hour?”

“I’ve got an idea,” you sing and lean back to look up at him with a grin. “Go get dressed. Or don’t, those sweatpants make your butt look cute.”

“Norns, love, find an ounce of dignity, would you?”

He really should say no. He should politely turn down whatever crazy plan you’ve concocted and return to his bed, wake up at his usual hour, and continue on with the coming day as he had previously expected.

But you’re standing here with your arms around him, after shattering his window in an disgustingly cliché attempt to woo him, in what appears to be your sleep wear: it’s not often he gets to see you in such personal clothes as these.

It almost feels a little too…intimate.

They’re hardly dignified, unlike his layers of loose tunics with their embroidered arms and cotton pants, no, yours appear to be old. Battered, used, much too large for your body, unlike anything he nor any deity would be seen in for the life of them—yet as he looks at you, taking in your purely natural and comforting state of apparent dress, he can only dream of holding you.

Holding you and hugging you to his chest and just being warm, comfortable, untroubled and secure in your promising embrace for the rest of eternity.

…the rest of eternity?

“Something tells me I have no say in this matter,” he sighs and leans forward to kiss you; that smile on your face and little spark in your eye have his chest in knots.

And oh, how you wind your arms around his neck when he kisses you, curling your gentle fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck just to make sure he stays on your lips as long as you need him to, his mind goes fuzzy and he can’t help but pull you closer.

“Sorry ‘bout the window,” you whisper and he chuckles, his lips brushing yours with every movement.

“Replaceable…” he can’t finish his thought, because now you’ve parted your lips ever so slightly and dear gods, there’s something minty on your tongue and it’s addicting.

Toothpaste, he eventually pieces together, but somehow only heightening the trance your lips have put him under. You must’ve woken up and come straight over—Loki allows himself to wonder for a split second if he was the first thing on your mind when you woke up.

Of course he was.

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” you gasp and pull away from him with a loud smack. “We’ve got stuff to do. You comin’ or not?”

“Naturally. Though I have to admit I’m terrified.” He reaches behind him and closes the door, taking your hand and letting you lead him to the car parked at the curb. “First you break my window, now you’re abducting me for some early morning escapade…tell me, where do you plan on taking me?”

“In bed, obviously,” you hum without missing a beat and open the door, shoving him into the passenger seat. Loki’s jaw drops—having a less than appropriate sense of humor is his job—and he thinks he feels his face flush when you wink at him.

“I—goodness. Is that where we’re off to?” He stuttering behind his grin, evidently enjoying and a little impressed by your comment.

“Don’t get too excited.” You turn the car on and a soft melody fills the car, something acoustic and darkly smooth and pining over an almost-lost lover. It’s calming, really, and you drive away into the morning’s darkness with one hand on the wheel, the other draped over the centre consol inching subtly towards Loki’s hand resting on his knee—okay, not very subtly.

He notices, of course, and takes your hand before you reach his, twining his fingers between yours and bringing it to his lips. “If you want to hold my hand,” he chuckles and presses his lips repeatedly over the back of your hand, “you don’t need to ask. You know these hands are only for you.”

“Damn right.” Your heart skips a beat and you grin over at him. The roads are empty around you, little markings glowing on the street flying past the windows into the darkness. It’s perfectly peaceful, even with how early it is, just to be driving into nothingness with your hands intertwined, Loki’s lips on the back of yours—wait a minute.

That’s a pretty midgardian “boyfriend” thing to do.

“Loki, did someone tell you to do that with my hand?”

Loki freezes with his lips on your hand like a deer in caught headlights. “No, of course not. What, am I not allowed to kiss your hand?”

You shrug—that was weird. It’s probably best not to push it, so you just give his hand a reassuring squeeze and turn your gaze back to the road. Nothing but the soft music playing fills the car until Loki pipes up again a couple troubled minutes later, not looking at you.

“I can’t lie to you,” he sighs. “I…might have done some research.”

“What?”

“I wanted…I wanted to make sure I’m fulfilling my duties as your ‘boyfriend,’ so I did some research to make sure I’m meeting the criteria.”

Oh my god, my heart.

“You did?” You glance over at him with a smile tugging at your lips, heart swelling.

He nods. “Google and…I believe it was Pinterest were most helpful. They said I should hold and kiss your hand while driving, and seeing how you refuse to let me drive—”

“You’ve almost killed us like, four times.”

“—that’s beside the point. Since you won’t let me drive, this will have to suffice.”

You can’t help but start laughing, and he quickly drops your hand and pushes it back towards you. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have trusted that article,” he starts rambling, and you can tell he’s red in the face. “It just—it said that’s how to ‘keep your lover happy,’ and I assumed since it was written by midgardians, you must want that from me as well, and—”

“Loki!” You laugh and grab his hand again, holding it tightly. “Do you think I’m not happy?”

He casts his gaze down to his lap and tries to tug his hand away from you. “I…I don’t know.”

“Oh my—Loki, sunshine, I’m more than happy,” you promise and this time bring his hand to your lips, one hand on the wheel and the other keeping his hand still so you can kiss it with grinning lips. “How could I be anything less than happy with you in my life? You’re the best boyfriend anyone could ever ask for.”

“Oh.” He’s quiet for a moment, searching for words worthy of your affections. “That’s…wonderful to hear.”

Silence settles over the car again, save the music, but you can tell there’s something more on the tip of Loki’s tongue that he’s holding back. “You alright, sunshine?”

His gaze darts to you for a split second and he flashes you a tight-lipped smile. “Never better. Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise!”

“How wonderful.”

“Don’t worry,” you laugh, reaching over to pat his knee. “We’re almost there, you’ll see. I think you’re gonna like it.”

“I certainly hope so,” he jokingly sighs. “You ruined a perfectly enjoyable night of sleep for this.”

“Just trust me.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Trusting you is new to Loki...but never once has it let him down.

You’ve brought Loki up winding paths and steep dirt roads to a tiny, empty dirt lot on the top of a hill, a little cliff overlooking the entire city sleeping below.

Not bad for Midgard.

It’s still dark out and Loki follows your lead, keeping quiet when you turn off the car and pop the back, beckoning him to come join you.

“Come sit with me.” You pat the space next to you, on a cozy-looking blanket in the back of the car. “Hurry up and get comfy, it’s only gonna be a couple more minutes!”

“Until what?” Pushing aside his pride, he sighs and hoists himself into the back of the car, crawling over to sit next to you. You immediately lift his arm up and nestle into his side—damn you.

That awful, addicting warmth spreads through his frozen chest.

He’s almost used to it by now.

“You’ll see,” you grin and pull a blanket up to your chin; he’s still a bit of a cold cuddle-buddy, but hey, you’ll deal with it.

Not two seconds of being under his arm, his thumb starts tracing figure-eights on your shoulder and immediately your eyes start to droop, the early morning breeze brushing softly at your face and ruffling Loki’s unusually curly hair. Something sweet is in the air—peaches, you guess, there must be a grove nearby.

Light begins to peek through your closed eyelids, and you quickly open them and sit up straighter against Loki’s chest, tapping his leg to make sure he’s awake.

“See?” You spread your arms proudly in front of you, the blanket and your giant t-shirt slipping off one shoulder as you do. “Told ya it’d be worth it.”

Words don’t seem to be working all that well for the silver-tongued god right now.

It’s a sunrise, clearly, and certainly not the first one Loki’s ever seen. Maybe the first on Midgard, but really, he hadn’t expected much.

This, however, is the hand of the gods at work, it has to be.

The sky is filled with the most beautiful, precise brushstrokes, a masterpiece of sky blues and golden hues crashing into one another, interrupted by coils of cotton clouds that he finds himself wanting to touch, good gods, what is wrong with him?

And you, ever the surpriser, look over your shoulder with a grin and drop your arms back to your sides, slipping once again under the blanket and nestling into him.

“Gotcha.”

Speechless, you mean. It doesn’t happen very often.

His head dips to press his lips to your head, eyes drifting shut and just letting the new sunlight wash over him.

“It’s warm,” he mumbles a moment later, and you crack an eye open.

You didn’t think about that.

“I’m sorry, Loki, do you want to go back now?” You attempt to sit back up but Loki’s arm holds true.

“It’s warm and it’s wonderful,” he continues, rubbing a reassuring hand over your arm. “I haven’t...I’m speechless, love. I have no words to describe this.”

You look up from his shoulder with a small smile, catching the way the sunlight glints off his pale complexion the same way that the sun reflects off freshly fallen snow. His eyes have a warmth to them that you’ve honestly never seen before…right now, he looks different.

He looks soft, for the first time in his life.

The angles and planes and sharpness of his features have softened to careful waves that you reach up to caress without thinking, and he blinks into the early morning sunlight.

“You’re gonna hurts your eyes if you keep staring at the sun,” you chuckle, tilting his face towards you to sneak a kiss to his lips.

“It will be worth it, this is…” he trails off, half-heartedly kissing you back when you do. “This...you’ll have to forgive me for speaking so candidly, but...I—th-this is the first time Midgard has ever felt like home.”

You pause and pull away from him slowly, a hand still resting on his cheek. Hopefully the surprise doesn’t show too clearly on your face; that was a lot, coming from Loki, and full of raw emotion and stuttering and the poor guy is terrified, you can see it in his stinging eyes.

“That’s the great thing about homes,” you smile, kissing him softly once more before wiggling to lay your head in his lap, clutching onto his thigh in a perfectly odd, oddly perfect little hug. “They’re relative. And I want you to always feel at home, ‘kay?”

“You are my home.”

You glance up at him, winking in the sunlight. “You’re such a sap, Loki.”

The god smiles weakly, cheeks a beautiful rosy gold as the sunrise bounces off his blush. He touches his fingertips to his lips before bringing them down to rest on your cheek, lightly brushing his fingers over your warm skin as your eyes drift shut.

You’re glowing, golden light illuminating your figure right on his lap.

There it is again, that sick warmth spreading through his chest as he gazes down at you—he wants to hold you again.

Gods, he’s never been one for hugs, but right now...nothing could possibly be better than being engulfed in your embrace, your hands clutching his back and your face buried in his neck, chest to chest and—

His heart twists. You’re so cozy, hugging his thigh and perfectly content with falling asleep on his lap, so peacefully in this position that he resolves to just run his hands over your hair and brush his thumb along your jaw.

You look like home. Feel like home.

Home that he can’t lose, a home he needs to hold dear for the rest of eternity. Whether that be his eternity or yours, the god doesn’t care; he will love you for all eternities.

“I am going to marry you,” he whispers to himself, tracing his finger impossibly light along your lips. “I will marry you.”

You shift on his lap to look up to him, a smile on your lips, eyes closed and adorably groggy.

“You better,” you mumble, grabbing his hand and pulling it over to press a warm kiss to his knuckles. “Marry the hell outta me, Loki.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettrosella @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01@lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @vast-ish @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000

#loki x reader #loki reader insert #loki imagine #loki x reader fluff #loki requests #boyfriend!loki #loki fanfiction #loki drabbles #loki laufeyson #loki fluff

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 3 years

Text

The Royal Snow Day

Day 1 of 2020′s 31 Days of Ficmas. Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for the list!

Prompt: Snowed in

Rating: M (nsfw)

Pairing: 12xRose AU; part of the Queen of Hearts universe

Summary: Rose’s first snowfall in Gallifrey exceeds her wildest dreams, as her royal fairytale continues. The ensuing snow day leads to an unexpected, melancholy conversation.

2020 31 Days of Ficmas masterlist | Queen of Hearts masterlist

AO3

---

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Oh, c’mon,” Rose whined, reaching out blindly to swat at the alarm. “Fuckoff.”

Ian’s answering snicker said he was already awake, the sheets rustling as he spooned up behind her. “Good morning.”

“Too early.” Still, she snuggled back into his arms, reveling in his warmth. “Mhmm.”

“Has it snowed, since you’ve been here?” The kisses he pressed against her neck were thoroughly distracting, so much so she almost missed the question.

“No, why?”

Her husband merely chuckled, the arm around her waist squeezing her. “Open your eyes.”

It took her a long moment to overpower the urge to curl into him and drift back to sleep, but when she finally did as he said, she was so glad she did.

“Oh!”

When they’d gone to bed the night before the sky had been clear, with trees as far as the eye could see, the Alps rising majestically in the distance. When the leaves had started falling a month before, Rose had understood for the first time how drastically the elevation could change in her new home; for quite a ways into the distance the trees were bare, their leaves having changed and fallen, but behind them were evergreens, sloping up the side of the Alps until they stopped abruptly; past that point was nothing but whiteness climbing towards the sky.

Now, though- now, the sky was full of clouds, and the grounds looked like a winter wonderland. Everything was covered in snow, bright and cheerful despite the grey sky, and even as she watched, the flakes continued to fall.

It was spectacular, almost out of a movie, and she was surprised at the tears pricking her eyes. “You live like this?” she breathed in awe. “Is this normal?”

The breath of Ian’s laugh was hot against her neck. “Sometimes. More so in years past… Definitely when I was a kid. Used to be able to ice skate on the lake, even. But d’you know what the best part of this is?”

“Oooh, snowball fight? Please say snowball fight!”

“No- I mean, sure, we can do that- but actually, until it stops and they’ve had time to start the cleanup, we’re stuck here.”

That was enough to tear Rose’s gaze from the window, and she twisted around to face him. “We’re snowed in?”

He nodded, pushing some loose hair out of her face. “For the time being. No engagements with our public today, I’m afraid. And since that was our whole schedule…” One of his knees nudged at her own, and she obligingly lifted her top leg to let his slide between. “Our day is wide open. How would you like to spend it?”

“Honestly?” When he nodded, she glanced back over her shoulder. “I’ve never seen so much snow in one place at one time. I’d love to just… go out and play in it. Snow angels, snowball fights… You know, like you see in films. Bet Sophia and Sebastian would like that- they’re still young enough I think.”

“That sounds like fun,” he agreed, smiling. “When, now?”

Rose rolled onto her back, looking first towards the window and the picture-perfect snow, then to her husband, warm and naked beside her. “Depends,” she said coyly. “Is it better to sort of pre-warm up before we go out, or to wait until we come back in?”

“Hmmm…” Ian settled himself above her, so close they were almost touching, but far enough away to mostly be a tease. “Well, in my professional opinion as a doctor-” he paused to suck at her pulse point, “I would recommend both. Some pre-activity to… get the blood flowing as it were, then once you’re back inside, a hot shower, maybe a soak in a steaming tub…”

“Is that so?” she drawled, letting her legs fall apart before tugging on his hips, encouraging him to lay flush against her. “And would you recommend these as solo activities?”

The corners of his mouth turned up, but he hid it by kissing his way across her decolletage to the other side of her neck. “Oh, no. It’s very important to always have a buddy with you,” he said earnestly. “Someone to keep an eye on you… check for hypothermia, that sort of thing.”

Rose nodded, scraping her nails lightly along his spine, smirking when his hips jumped. “Whatever you say, Doctor.”

He dipped his head, kissing her deeply, and she arched up against him in response. Even after six months together she still got the same giddy feeling in her stomach, heart soaring at the merest taste of him, her very universe narrowing down to where they touched, the rest of the world be damned. It didn’t hurt knowing that he was equally affected by her, the evidence hot and throbbing against her thigh.

Yet the picture-perfect scene playing out on the other side of the glass called to her too, and though she tried to hide it, her husband knew her well enough at this point to sense her distraction. To his credit, though, he was chuckling as he pulled back.

“Do you want to stop to watch the window?”

Biting her lip, Rose gave him a sheepish smile. “No, I want you…” She ran her hands down his back to his arse, squeezing for emphasis. “But, maybe a change of position? D’you mind?”

“Of course not.” He backed away, sitting on his heels. “And we don’t have to- I promise I’m just as happy holding you and watching the snow fall.”

Sitting up herself, she took a moment to look around before nodding decisively. “Right.” Nudging him out of the way, she positioned herself on her hands and knees in front of the window, before glancing back at him over her shoulder. “Does this work?”

Ian was already slotting himself between her knees, one hand rubbing at her hip and thigh as the other brushed against her slit. “Uh huh.” He met her eye as one long finger probed her opening. “You’re supposed to be watching the snow.”

“Git.” Facing forward again, she marveled at how the storm seemed to be picking up. “I’m going to remember this.”

By the time they collapsed in a sweaty, sated pile, the view was a whiteout and second to the heat between them.

“This is absurd.”

Hands on his hips, Ian stared out the ballroom doors to the patio incredulously – or attempted to, given that their view consisted solely of snow. Heavy, packed snow that covered the doors so thoroughly he wasn’t sure anything truly existed past them.

“It seems to be a snow drift, Your Majesties,” Jabe shrugged. The manager of the grounds, it would be her team’s job to clear the snow, and he made a mental note to ensure they all got fat bonuses in their next check. “It’s not nearly so bad along the sides of the Palace, or necessarily the front, but it may take several days to clear the lakefront side or the drive. In these conditions, we cannot even begin until it stops, and though it has slowed, we do not want to be caught out in it if it increases again. As it is, we will need to dig our way from the sides.”

“We’re really snowed in,” Rose breathed. “I mean, this is… Wow.”

Their hands tangled together, and even as Ian worried for his subjects, her childlike wonder warmed his heart more than he could say. “The Queen would like to go out in it for a bit. How do you recommend we do so?”

“Over my dead body, to start.”

He turned to see his aunt striding towards them, bundled in a thick jumper, eyes narrowed in their direction.

“I’m afraid she’s correct,” Jabe said, apologetic. “At least, in her implication – it’s simply too dangerous at this time. Several of my braver groundskeepers attempted to go out the front, and suffice it to say it did not go well. The worst injury was a sprained wrist, and several bruised prides, but it was enough. We cannot risk Your Majesties’ health or safety.”

“What about- and maybe this is stupid, I don’t have much experience with heavy snow- but like… climbing out a first-floor window? It wouldn’t be too far down…” Rose trailed off as they stared at her. “Never mind, just a thought.”

Ian smiled kindly at his wife. “Perhaps if we were twenty, but I think we- or at least I- am too old for that. And there’s no way of knowing how far you might sink into the drift. I don’t want to have to call your mother and explain you drowned in snow.”

“Fair enough,” she agreed easily, squeezing his hand. “Though, personally, I’d be more afraid of Donna.”

He shivered dramatically at the idea, making her giggle. “Ooh, don’t make me think about it. Very well, we surrender to our house arrest. Is there any support we can offer to Arcadia, or the rest of the country?”

“No, not now.” Sarah shook her head. “When I saw the storm start last night I reached out to the Roadworks Department, but they were on top of the situation. We’ll likely need to cut them a check for overtime as they certainly hadn’t budgeted for all this, expecially not as a one-time dumping at the start of the season, but that was all the support they need- at least for now. The worst of it is here, along the lake- once you get a kilometer or so inland it’s not nearly so heavy.”

“That’s good,” Ian and Rose said in unison, before grinning at each other.

“Have you spoken to Donna?” he continued. “I suppose this means they’ll need to extend their trip.”

Sarah nodded. “She’s heartbroken at the delay of course,” she said dryly, “but will soldier through. The children are thrilled to have another few days with their grandparents.”

Rose tensed next to him, but other than shooting her a curious look, he ignored it for the moment. “All right, I’ll give her a call in a bit. Thanks for the update. We’ll be up in our suite. A hearty soup or stew is sufficient for dinner tonight, I think- something simple. I don’t see a need for anything non-essential to be done today, but I’ll leave it to your discretion.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The women curtseyed as Ian turned to leave, tugging Rose along with him.

They walked in silence until they reached their bedroom, where he helped her out of her warm outerwear they’d optimistically put on.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Rose sank onto their couch, curling up in the corner and staring blankly at the fireplace. “I’m fine.”

Biting back a sigh, he settled next to her, careful not to touch her. “Rose.”

“I just… realized something I hadn’t thought about before. It’s no biggie.”

“If you’re sure.” He didn’t believe her, but didn’t want to push, knowing she would come to him when she was ready. “Want another log on the fire?”

She didn’t answer but he did it anyway, enjoying the burst of sparks as the new log caught and started to burn. She didn’t say anything when he draped the throw from the back of the couch over their laps, and she still didn’t speak as they watched the fire crackle and occasionally leap.

“My mum’s the only grandparent our children will know.”

He started at the sound of her voice, having been nearly hypnotized by the silence and the flames, and turned to look at her. “Yes, she is,” he agreed cautiously. “And I have no intention of trying to keep her from them, if that’s where this is going.”

“No, I know that, it’s just… I guess, I always thought I’d marry something with parents- someone who could give my kids a grandfather, someone who could… could almost be a father to me. I say always, but it’s only really in the last decade or so once I got off the estate, but still.”

“I had a similar epiphany when my father died,” he shared tentatively. “In amongst all the things I’d officially lost- never really had, I suppose- like my career and my freedom, I realized that… because I’d been concerned with my own wants, I missed out on the opportunity for my future wife and children to know my parents, and for them to know, well, you. And our children. To make them proud. They were proud of my career, that I was helping people even if it wasn’t in the way they wanted- they thought I should have spent time learning how to rule at my father’s side- but… they wanted me to settle down, have a family. I’m sorry they didn’t get the chance to see that, though I suppose if they had it wouldn’t have been with you, and that I cannot regret. My point being- I know how you feel.”

Rose shifted on the couch, moving curl into his side. “The real problem with all of this,” she sighed as she rested her head against his shoulder, “is that she’ll feel the need to make up for being the only one, and spoil our kids absolutely rotten. I mean, at least your parents had Donna and knew the twins, but I’m all Mum’s got, so our family will be the sole focus of her grandmotherly love.”

He couldn’t help but smile stupidly at the idea. “That’s all right, I suppose. We’ll just have to have many children, to spread out the attention.”

Rose took his hand, lacing their fingers together. “Depending on your definition of ‘many’, I agree. But for now…”

“Yes?” He watched her stand, taking a moment to admire her; the glow of the fire behind her made her seem ethereal, like some sort of goddess too good for the world blessing him with her presence.

She tugged on their joined hands, smiling coyly. “I could use some warming up. And this doctor I know says that body heat transmitted bare skin to bare skin is the most efficient way.”

“Well, if you insist…”

#bbatcfic #doctorroseprompts #31 Days of Ficmas #31 Days of Ficmas 2020 #ficandchips #Doctor Who #12xRose #12th Doctor #Rose Tyler #The Royal Snow Day #AU #Queen of Hearts #royalty AU

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thecassadilla · 4 years

Text

Written in the Stars - Chapter 1

Word Count: 3,328/AO3

Pairing: Kristanna

Love During Lockdown Series: Serendipity (Prologue)

Summary: Figuring out how to go on an in-person date during a time of social distancing would be a challenge for anyone. Luckily, it comes easy to Anna and Kristoff, who find a creative way to spend some time with each other amidst a pandemic.

Author’s Note: Well, I’m back again. If you remember, a few weeks back, I wrote a one-shot about Anna and Kristoff meeting during the pandemic because their deliveries got sent to each other’s addresses by mistake. I added that it had the possibility of being expanded, and ta-da! I’ve linked that fic above. I highly recommend reading that fic before this one, but you do you. I can’t believe I followed through, for the first time ever. This was interesting to write because, well, I had to imagine what an appropriate, in-person date would be like right now. This is going to be three or so chapters, but again, has the possibility of being expanded upon! I hope you enjoy it!

In the days immediately following their initial conversation, Anna found herself carrying her phone everywhere with her. She didn’t want to miss out on a single text from Kristoff. They hadn’t had much contact in the week since their chat - from what she had gathered about him, he definitely seemed to be on the shyer side; despite this, and the pandemic that was practically prohibiting them from meeting in person, she was hopeful that everything would work out and they would have a real opportunity to talk. There was just something about him and their interaction that was different, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.

Suffice to say, when he called her out of the blue on Saturday afternoon, just over a week since they’d met for the first time, her heart nearly leapt out of her chest.

“Hello?” She answered, breathlessly.

“Hey,” he responded, and she could tell from the tone of his voice that he was smiling. “How are you?”

“I’m great, how are you?”

“I’m doing alright, thanks for asking. Uh, so I know this is going to sound kind of weird, but I haven’t started my car in almost a month and I’m kind of worried that the battery is going to die,” he explained. “I was wondering if you wanted to go for a car ride in a little while? I know it’s short notice and it would be bad social distancing, but -”

“Absolutely,” she cut him off, sounding a little too eager. “I can wear a mask if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No - I mean, you can bring it. I’m going to bring one, too, but you said you haven’t left your apartment in a while, right?”

“I haven’t left in almost two months,” she answered.

“Same here, so I think it would be safe? As long as we’re in the car, and you’re okay with it?”

“I’m totally fine with that,” she said, again fearing that she was going to come off as desperate.

“And...if you want, we can get take-out or stop by a drive-through or something? I know it’s kind of inappropriate, and ideally we’d be going to a sit-down restaurant, but...you know.”

“That would be wonderful,” she assured him. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was worried about not impressing her, because it sure sounded like he was asking her on a first date. The situation they were in was certainly not his fault, though, and the fact that he was still trying regardless of that made her weak in the knees. “What time were you thinking?”

“Um, an hour or so? Or we can meet up later if that’s too soon?”

“No, that’s perfect. I’m dying to get out of this apartment and see a person other than my sister,” she giggled.

“Oh!” He said, sounding a little surprised. “Me too, except with my roommate.”

“I can’t wait,” she said, smiling. “Where should we meet?”

“By the entrance to the building?”

“Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll see you in an hour!”

“See you then,” he said, before hanging up the phone.

She was so excited that she wanted to scream. She immediately jumped off the bed and began to tear her room to shreds - she wanted to wear something that was cute but appropriate. She also didn’t want to have to explain why she was wearing a fancy dress to Elsa. After way too much time deliberating, she finally settled on a light blue romper with spaghetti straps and a pair of sandals. She didn't have enough time for a full face of makeup, so she settled on mascara and lipstick, hoping that he wouldn’t notice. Her hair hung down in loose waves cascading down her back, and she mentally applauded herself for taking a shower that morning. When the hour was about to draw to a close, she placed the mask over her face, grabbed her purse and cell phone, and excitedly bounded out of her bedroom.

She paused in front of Elsa’s door, knocking a few times with no answer. She peeked inside, and was thrilled to see that her sister was taking a nap and could not protest her departure. She decided that a text message would be appropriate, and gently closed the door to her room before practically skipping out of the apartment. As soon as she opened the door, a blast of hot air hit her in the face and she was immensely grateful that they were going to be sitting in an air conditioned car instead of going on a walk. Before she walked downstairs, she sent the text message to Elsa and shoved her phone into her purse - if she could help it, she wanted to keep it there the entire time they were together.

When she finally reached the entrance to their building, she could hardly contain her excitement. So much so that when Kristoff emerged from inside, she found herself approaching him with her arms wide open before she realized what she was doing.

“Oops, sorry,” she said, lowering her arms. “I always hug people after when I haven’t seen them for a while, but I guess we don’t live in that world anymore. Hi, by the way.”

Although she couldn’t see his mouth, she could tell from his eyes that he was smiling. She couldn’t help but notice how good he looked; he was dressed casually like her, wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt, but it suited him so well that she nearly found herself drooling.

“Hi,” he said back, his eyes still sparkling. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been doing as well as I can,” she answered. “I feel like I’m starting to lose my mind, though.”

“I feel the same way,” he chuckled, slowly starting to walk toward the parking lot. “I’m glad to be getting out for a little while. You look great, though; quarantine must be treating you well.”

“Thank you!” She exclaimed, walking alongside him. “You look great, too. And I feel the same way; my sister is starting to drive me up a wall.”

“It’s just you and her up there?”

“So it’s a little complicated, actually. She doesn’t actually live here,” she explained. “I had two roommates.”

“What happened with that?”

“One of them broke his lease, because his internship ended abruptly due to the pandemic, so he had to go back to live with his parents. And my other roommate has been quarantining with her boyfriend, but she took almost all of her stuff with her and she’s not answering my messages, so I actually don’t know if she’s coming back.”

“I don’t mean to cut you off, but this is me,” he said, motioning to a grey SUV. He unlocked it, and they each went to their respective sides. It was blazingly hot inside, as expected, and he put his keys in the ignition. “I’m honestly relieved that it started and I’m really sorry that it’s so hot in here, but it should cool off in a few minutes. You were saying?”

She pulled off her mask and he followed shortly after. “Yeah, so, my sister came to visit, like, a week before everything shut down and then she just refused to leave. It worked out since my other roommate moved out, but she’s driving me crazy.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking over at her.

She slid the seatbelt over her shoulder and buckled it in. Cool air started seeping out of the vents, offering relief from the suffocating heat. “It’s not the worst thing in the world, but her anxiety is basically out of control. She’s a touch agoraphobic in general, and this is just making it worse.”

“That has to be really rough,” he responded, shifting the car into drive and slowly pulling out of the spot. “I mean, my roommate just sits around and plays video games all day, so I kind of lucked out in that regard.”

“I would do literally anything for her, but I definitely miss having a little freedom; she doesn’t even want me to go on walks, or anything,” she said, shaking her head. “Luckily, she hates Florida, so I think she’ll try to go home as soon as it’s safe.”

“Are you from Florida?”

She glanced out the window, admiring the clear blue sky and the palm trees. She had almost forgotten what the outside world looked like. “No, I’m actually from upstate New York.”

“Get out of here, so am I,” he said, excitedly. “What part are you from?”

Her face lit up. “Arendelle, it’s a small town near Saratoga Springs.”

“I grew up, like, half an hour from there. Near Broadalbin, in Fulton County.”

“No way! It’s such a small world,” she laughed. “What brought you here?”

“I’ve lived in Florida for a few years now,” he explained, focusing on the road. “I came down here for school. I’m becoming an architect, and I needed an internship, and that led me to this part of the state a couple of months ago. Unfortunately, it kind of got put on hold due to the pandemic.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she frowned. “I don’t know much about architecture, but it seems really cool.”

“It is,” he grinned. “But it’s a lot to talk about and I don’t want to bore you. What about you?”

“I doubt you would bore me, but to answer your question, I needed a change. I came out here for school, too, and loved it so much that I dreaded going home during breaks. So I got a job and found an apartment, and now I live here.”

“What did you major in?”

“I’m still working on my Bachelor’s, but elementary education. One semester to go.”

“You must love kids,” he assumed.

She nodded. “I do, I really do. I had a lot of amazing teachers, and I hope that one day I can leave an impact on someone in the same way my teachers left one on me.”

“Wow, that’s really thoughtful of you.”

“Thank you,” she blushed. “I’m really looking forward to having my own classroom, someday.”

He found himself smiling at the sincerity of her response, but before he could say anything, she had already moved onto the next topic.

“What do you do for work?”

“Well, the internship was my job, for the time being. I quit my job as a waiter for the internship, so I’m currently unemployed.”

She nodded fervently. “Same here - I had a part-time front desk job, and the office had to close, so I got laid off.”

“This whole situation is just awful,” he responded, shaking his head. “To get back onto a happier subject - what do you love most about living here?”

“The weather,” she cooed. “I love the warmth and the sunshine. No snow or shoveling to worry about in this state.”

“That’s the one thing that I dislike about living here,” he remarked. “I kind of miss having four seasons. Oh, and I never want to be referred to as ‘Florida Man.’”

She burst out laughing, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. “Oh my god, stop.”

“I’m serious! There are so many negative connotations,” he laughed.

“Yeah, but you’d have to do something dumb, like, stick your foot in a gator’s mouth to earn that title.”

“I don’t know, I feel like they’re handing it out willy nilly these days; any man who lives in Florida is officially a Florida Man,” he smiled, shaking his head. “In all seriousness, though, I do hope to move back to New York, someday.”

“I think I do, too. The distance has helped my sister and I grow as individuals, but I’d like to live closer to her. Not anytime soon, though.”

“I get that,” he nodded.

“So, what’ve you been doing to pass the time?”

He sighed. “I’ve been doing school stuff, mostly, but now that the semester is over, I’ve been watching stuff on Netflix.”

“Ooh, what have you been watching?” She asked, turning her body so she was facing him.

“Whatever gets recommended to me, honestly. I watched Tiger King -”

“Oh my god, me too! What a train wreck!” She exclaimed, before bringing both of her hands up to cover her mouth. “I’m so sorry, I totally cut you off just then.”

“It’s fine,” he said, glancing over at her. “I kept expecting it to get better, but it just kept getting worse and worse. Other than that, I’ve been watching a mixed bag of stuff. The Office, Parks and Rec, et cetera.”

“Literally, same,” she laughed. “I’ve been watching a lot of YouTube, too, because it’s interesting to see what other people are doing during quarantine.”

“Good point,” he agreed. “I haven’t even thought about how other people have been coping.”

“Almost everyone I watch has been doing the same stuff I see everyone on social media doing. Baking bread, renovating their houses, watching television. I appreciate people who are putting out unique content.”

“I’ll have to get on YouTube one of these days,” he stated. “What are you looking forward to most when all of this is over?”

“Gosh, I don’t even know,” she gushed. “Everything - I want to eat in a restaurant, again. And go back to Disney World, and to the beach.”

“You know, I’ve never been to Disney World.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope,” he smirked.

“No way! We’ll have to go when it opens!” She declared, and then quickly backtracked a step, worrying that she was too forward. “Only if you want to, though.”

“I’m not opposed to going,” he chuckled. “It was just never high enough on my priorities list. I was actually supposed to go back in March, but then they closed. I’d love to go with you when they reopen.”

“Stop, I’m literally so excited now,” she said, unable to control her smile. “I’m not in a crazy rush to run there as soon as they reopen, but I literally cannot wait now.”

His lips curved upwards as well. “Me too.”

“How about you? What are you looking forward to?”

“Well, aside from going to Disney World, probably just things going back to normal. I miss simple things like going to the grocery store.”

“Do you like cooking?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I do. That’s another thing that I’ve been doing - practicing my cooking skills. You?”

“God, no. I love eating but I’m an awful cook,” she laughed. “I know how to make some really basic stuff, but I have a knack for burning everything. I’d say that I’m a better baker, but I don't think boxed mixes count.”

“At least you try. I’m pretty sure my roommate would live on microwaveable food and take-out if I didn’t live with him.”

She playfully rolled her eyes. “My sister is no better, but we get by.”

“I’ll have to send some food up to you sometime; can’t have you two starving,” he winked.

“Stop, you’re too sweet,” she gushed. “I would love that, though. My sister on the other hand…”

He glanced over at her. “I notice that you talk about her a lot. Is it just the two of you?”

She paused for a moment before answering. “Yeah, it’s just me and her. Our parents passed away a few years ago, and we don’t have any other family.”

“Oh man, I’m sorry to hear that,” he frowned. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, it’s okay; I’m actually kind of glad you asked,” she said quietly, twirling a piece of hair between her fingers. “My sister and I don’t talk about them, really.”

He raised his eyebrows. “How come? If you don’t mind me asking.”

She shook her head. “Well, my sister had a lot of anxiety issues as a kid, and she became very closed off. They were concerned, but they didn’t really do anything to address it and we both suffered as a result. They got into the accident when I was fifteen, and she was eighteen so she became my guardian, but it was like I was living with a stranger at first. We got better, eventually, but she was a little overbearing and I needed my own space and that was when I moved down here for school. We just don’t bring them up, now. They weren’t bad people or anything, it’s just hard to talk about.”

He nodded along with her as she spoke, acknowledging what she was saying. “I get that. I’m really sorry that that happened, but I have to say - you’re incredibly brave.”

“Thank you,” she looked up at him and gave him a sad smile. “What about your family?”

“I was a foster kid who got bounced around, so I don’t really have a family. I’m still in touch with the family I was with the longest, but it took two other families to get to them.”

She gasped. “I’m sorry, that must’ve been so hard.”

“Well, a lot of good came out of it. It made me want to work harder, for one, but it also made me realize what type of person I want to be and what type of life I want to live.”

“And what is that, exactly?”

“Well, I want to have a family of my own someday. I just...want to be present for the people in my life.”

“That’s really amazing. You’re also incredibly brave,” she remarked, repeating what he’d just said to her.

“I guess we have a lot in common, then.”

She nodded, suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch his arm. She hesitated, though. “You can say that again. But it’s a good thing, I think. Not to wax poetic, but we wouldn’t be here right now if all of those horrible things didn’t happen to us.”

“Very true,” he agreed. He pulled into a gas station, stopping the car at one of the pumps and turning off the engine. “Sorry, I just want to fill up my tank so we don’t break down somewhere.”

“No need to apologize,” she insisted, as he climbed out of the car and started fiddling with the pump. She was completely overwhelmed, but in the best way possible. This was easily the best date she’d ever been on, and she was hopeful that he felt the same way and that there would be many more dates in the future. Though it was a bit of an annoyance at the time, she was eternally grateful for the delivery drivers who’d messed up their deliveries.

“Alright, we’re good,” he announced, as he climbed back in and started the ignition again.

“Do you want money for gas?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he insisted. “Where to next?”

She shrugged. “You’re the driver.”

“Are you hungry? We could stop somewhere and eat,” he offered.

“Yeah, that would be great.”

“What’re you in the mood for? I know there aren’t too many practical options for eating in a car.”

“We could stop at that McDonald’s that was just down the street.”

“Alright,” he said, pulling away from the gas station. “I have nothing against McDonald’s, but if the circumstances were different, I would’ve preferred to take you somewhere much nicer.”

“I know,” she smiled. “But I’m not, like, disappointed or anything. I’m honestly having a great time.”

“Me too,” he responded softly. “I’ve really been enjoying talking to you.”

“I’m really glad that we’re on the same page. Also, I haven’t had McDonald’s in at least a year, so I’m super excited about that.”

“Is that why you suggested it?”

“Maybe,” she smirked. “But also because it’s close by and we don’t have to get out of the car.”

“If that's what you want, then I’m happy to take you there, but don’t worry about the distance. I don’t mind going somewhere else if -”

She interjected before he could finish his thought. “Nope, McDonald’s is great.”

“Alright,” he laughed. “Then to McDonald’s we go.”

#kristanna #kristanna fanfic #anna #kristoff bjorgman #frozen #frozen fic #my first multi chapter fic in years #this quarantine is doing something to me #my writing

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