#and he spent those miserable 3 years making sure no one dirtied her name | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

junghelioseok · 3 years

Text

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

#hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #jhope #jung hoseok #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #kpop scenarios #hoseok x you #strangers to lovers!au #strangers to lovers #lia writes #gonna change that stupid summary if i can think of anything better LOL #my brain went all mushy on me idk what's happening

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oftenderweapons · 3 years

Text

Apple of my pie (2) — Jin

A Small Town Swoons story

Chapter 2.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x reader (nicknamed Buttercup)

Wordcount: 3.0k

Genre: non-idol!AU, Baker/Café owner!Seokjin, University student!reader Flatmates!AU, Friends To Lovers, Fluff, slightest angst

Rating: suggested 18+ (there are brief apparitions of dirty thoughts, also future episodes will contain NSFW material);

A/N: Hello my sweet poppies! Welcome to the Small Town Swoon Universe! 🥰✨

In this episode: Jin goes on his first date with Grace, who is actually a sweet person. However, during the date, he casually meets a friend who is more than capable of making him open his eyes. Meanwhile, Buttercup remembers exactly why they’re friends. The following day, the young woman faces a challenging conversation with her classmate and friend, Lara — who is also Jin’s assistant at the bakery.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Sweet date; some angst between friends (Yoongi, the psychiatrist who always cuts too deep when he speaks his mind). Meet Yoongi and his sweet and horny girlfriend, Spice. Lots of swearing, especially from Lara and Buttercup towards the end. Dirty thoughts, mentions of wet dreams, playful bickering and name calling between Buttercup and Lara. There are a couple very painful references to Severus Snape and Lily Potter (lowkey Harry Potter spoilers, just in case).

Remember to vote for next prompt (check the link in my bio) and in case you need it, here’s my masterlist 💜

In case you need it, here is the music companion (Spotify only, sorry 😔)

Enjoy! ✨💜

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

Sitting at the pizza shack near the university campus, Seokjin realised that Grace wasn’t a plain human being.

She was actually cute and funny. He could see himself with someone like this.

Someone who didn’t make him feel dull and a bit of an understudy.

Grace liked puppies. She was at her last year of vet school, she was interning at the local animal clinic and she had spent all day visiting pregnant cows. She hoped she could assist to at least one birth, even though the first expected date of delivery was a couple days after her internship formally ended.

Jin grinned as he listened, genuinely warmed by her caring ways and her childlike laugh. Her name really did fit her. She had a gap between her front teeth and a very sweet dimple that made him grin each time it appeared. Small, a little soft in all the best ways — and best places, he had unwillingly noted — and terribly endearing.

The date wasn’t bad. At all.

And it was way more than decent. Almost too good for being a first date.

No misunderstandings, no embarrassment, no shyness whatsoever. The pizza was good — not as good as his, but it was an eight out of ten, solid — there had been no accidents of choking on drinks or on food, no talking while having mouths full, no uncomfortable flutters in his heart as he looked at her. It was warm. It all felt warm.

However, the more time went by, the more he realised that a few things were missing,

Like you, humming at how good the food was, making jokes about unsuspecting patrons sitting around you, people watching, building impossible scenarios and stories about specific clients, basing yourself on stolen snippets of their conversations.

The strident chord was the sudden appearance of a familiar face. Actually two of them, one slightly less familiar than the other.

“Seokjin?” The very familiar face called.

He turned. “Hello Yoongi!” He greeted with a smile and a small wave. “Hello Spice!” He said, turning to the woman at his side, his hand laced with hers.

“Where’s Buttercup?” Yoongi asked, before he turned and spotted a woman sitting before his friend.

That was not you. Yoongi turned to Seokjin and eyed him suspiciously, making sure that Jin’s table companion didn’t notice.

“Guys, this is Grace.” He introduced the girl.

Spice looked at Yoongi with a meaningful look before turning to the young woman.

“Nice to meet you, Grace.” She said warmly.

Grace blushed. “Nice to meet you too, guys,” she replied with a soft smile.

“We’ll leave you to your night, he seems to be enjoying your company, Grace.” Yoongi said politely, before turning to Seokjin. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

Seokjin’s ears blushed. He felt ashamed, “Sure. Have a good evening,” he said, bidding his friends goodbye.

“To you too,” Spice said it’s a tight smile.

The two left, moving like one, perfect as always.

Seokjin knew how that felt. That’s how he always moved with you.

“They seem good people.” Grace noted, genuinely kind, as she had been all dinner long.

“They are.” Seokjin agreed. “And they’re smart too.” He said, beginning to worry for himself.

You weren’t in the living room when Seokjin arrived at the apartment. He was glad. He was glad he could have a few minutes to rethink about how Grace had stretched to her tiptoes with her hands laced behind her back and had placed a playful peck on his cheek before wishing him goodnight and dashing upstairs.

He was glad he wouldn’t need to confront you. And from the sounds coming from your bedroom, you were very likely watching one of those dramas and films you loved so much. Once more, he was glad.

However, that small peace lasted little.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He exhaled and picked it up.

Is Pollyanna still around?

Yoongi wrote. Seokjin shook his head in hopelessness.

I’ve just arrived home.

Yoongi called immediately. Seokjin hid into his room. “So you decided to follow Namjoon’s way?”

“I have to save myself. I can’t stand there forever, hoping for her to notice. Or to care.”

“You decided to follow the advice of a miserable man abandoned by the highschool sweetheart rather than that of other four sane men who told you to talk to her?” Yoongi said, raising his voice.

“You never said your opinion.” Seokjin noted.

“You don’t need my opinion. You didn’t care about anyone’s opinion. You had already made up your mind even before the discourse started.”

Seokjin exhaled, exasperated.

“Can’t you just say it?”

“What?” Yoongi snorted. Hearing his frustration, Spice rubbed his back trying to calm him down. He nuzzled into her warmth.

“Just say what you think for once in your life.”

Spice frowned at Seokjin’s voice blasting from Yoongi’s phone. He patted her head.

Yoongi huffed. “Fine. I think Buttercup deserves to know and choose for herself. I think she does care, no matter what you think. Also, all that self convincing you’re trying to do is just you trying to keep yourself from losing something that makes you feel comfortable. Because after all you’re comfortable, aren’t you? You just drown yourself in her so much that you don’t even have to face yourself and what you want. And we both know Pollyanna is not what you want.”

Seokjin frowned and pouted. He already knew he was being childish.

“This silence is precisely why I don’t state my opinion.” Yoongi said, speaking softly when he noticed Spice had closed his eyes beside him, on the pillow next to his. He smiled and looked at how beautiful she is. He cupped her cheek, brushing her hair off her face.

“Yoongi. I can’t go on like this forever.” Seokjin said, his voice hopeless and tired.

“I know. All I’m saying is… you should tell Buttercup first.” Yoongi replied, his voice more comprehensive and gentle.

“I am such a coward.” Jin whispered, sitting on the bed, combing his hair with his free hand.

“Listen. I know Buttercup is to you what Spice is to me. I know it.” Yoongi said, his girlfriend scooting closer to him and pressing her face to his chest. “I know I would give her anything she asks and do anything to stay as close as she allows me.” He petted her hair while her warm fingertips danced on his spine.

Seokjin shut his eyes tight. “I’m just trying to get as much as I can before they take her from me.”

“No one will ever break your bond except your lack of communication. Someday a brilliant, smart man will come along and realise how damn precious she is and snatch her for himself. All you’ll have left will be possibilities and smoky dreams.” Yoongi took a pause. “You guys are amazing. You are borderline disgusting with the amount of private stuff you know about each other. Tell her.” Yoongi said, smiling and closing his eyes once Spice’s lips tickled his throat.

“I’ll try.” Seokjin replied. “Goodnight doctor.”

“Goodnight, lover boy. Try not to have wet dreams of your flatmate.”

“Don’t you have better things to do? I bet your girlfriend keeps a list.” Jin said, biting back.

Spice’s voice rose in the background. “Jin is almost right. However, why be doing things when you could be doing me?”

Jin blushed and snickered. “Goodnight, lover boy.” He quipped before shutting the call.

Yoongi placed down his phone, then shook his head and chuckled. “Doing you, uh?”

Spice licked her lips and closed the light before she bent to his neck. “You’d better provide, Min.” She warned before he pounced on her with an ecstatic grin.

Seokjin went to grab a glass of water sometime around one a.m., quite unusually. His routine is basic: he falls asleep at ten thirty and wakes up at four thirty, showers, dresses and runs to the shop. He starts the ovens and by six fifteen the first morning batch is ready.

But that night for some reason, he woke up. He stood up. He reached the kitchen.

Maybe it was because his sleep had been fitful. Maybe because all he had been thinking about was you. You and how it would have been like to be on a date with you, what you were like on a date, if you would have kissed him goodbye on his cheek, if you would have invited him up, had you been in Grace’s shoes, hadn’t the two of you been flatmates.

First he noticed that the fridge was open. Next he noticed you, in thick flannel pjs and a tank top. You were sniffling and drying your eyes, filling your mouth with the leftovers from breakfast.

“What happened?” He asked, spying on you.

You stood up straight, his face appearing in the dim, yellow glow of the fridge.

“His patronus was a doe.” You said, your lip wobbly, cheeks still wet with tears, filling your mouth with chocolate pudding.

He rose from his position slowly, raising his head from his arms, once crossed on top of the fridge door.

Why are his shoulders are always so damn big? What’s the use of all of that… wingspan — ? — when your kitchen is so tiny? And when he needs to move in the narrow lanes of the bakery? What is he so big for?

As you watched him turn on his side, trying no to hit the fridge or the counter as he stood behind you and hugged you close.

“After all that time.” You murmured.

Seokjin held you closer as you turned around. That’s why he was so big. All those good bear hugs.

“I know.” He replied, one arm snaked around your waist, the other wrapped around your shoulders and head while his hand patted your head. “I know,” he repeated as you hiccuped and sobbed. Of course he knew. He had been stuck there himself. Loving someone after all that time. Always.

“Who pissed in your latte?” Lara asked the following day after your nine a.m. bibliology lesson. “You look awful.”

“Thank you Lara.” You said, pushing your stuff into your bag. “Jin went on a date last night.”

Lara frowned, “What do you mean?”

“On a date. Pizza. With a girl.”

She laughed. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m serious.” You said, placing your bag on your shoulder and wrapping your scarf around your neck.

“Listen. You’ve been friends for years. Honestly, it was a matter of time before it happened.”

“He’s never had a girl, a boy, a… partner. In four years.” You said as you and Lara walked out of the room, stopping by the closest heater in the main corridor.

“Do you think he would be your loyal servant forever? Your knight in shining armour?” Lara took a small bag of caramelised almonds: she had negotiated that she would work for Seokjin for a monthly pay and a weekly amount of his grandmother’s almonds covered by raw crystallised sugar.

“I am not opposed to it, it’s just… I’m uncomfortable, okay? What if he moves out and leaves me paying full rent. I can’t do that!” You stated weakly with strong disappointment.

“He’s just dating the chick, not marrying her!” Lara replied, throwing another almond in her mouth.

The mere idea of him getting married made you even more petty. “I don’t want her to barge in and change our friendship.”

“Friendship...” Lara scoffed. “You weren’t screaming friendship at my birthday.”

“I was having a nightmare!” You snarled playfully.

“You were having a wet dream. How long has it been since you’ve—”

You pressed your hand to her mouth. “Shut the fuck up. Not talking about that.”

Lara licked your hand, making you yuck and pull it away, cleaning it against her jacket. “We should talk about that, though. Think about it, Buttercup; he’s not gonna be single forever and you definitely have a bone to pick with that Grace girl.”

“She can have him like… on weekdays.” You said, trying to be reasonable. “Except on free mornings. We have breakfast together on free mornings.”

Lara shook her head. “Don’t wanna burst your bubble, but you do realise that soon he’ll be out on dates on Saturday night and staying out until Sunday morning?”

You frowned, pouting. You opened your mouth, trying to object.

Lara snickered proudly. You couldn’t let her have that.

“Well, at least I’ll be able to get laid with him out of the house.”

“Don’t worry. He’ll be getting laid too, fucking finally. He needs it and deserves it.” Lara muttered as she thought about all those years he had spent looking at you with heart eyes. “And remember that Grace will be getting Saturday dinner. Filet mignon. All that meat...” Lara commented.

“The meat...” You said, dreamily. Juicy steaks and roasted chicken and ribs and… Meat.

Your brain short-circuited. He was tall. Handsome. Well-built. And you sort of knew he’s large. For fuck’s sake, that was your best friend you were talking about! Why would you suddenly think about his junk?

You shook your head.

Still, Lara went on, grinning as she saw you falter. “Grace will get all of that. Saturday evening. Sunday morning. Breakfast in bed. Milkshakes. Homemade gelato. Apple pies. Picnics with his granny. Trips to the lake. His granny’s roast-beef—”

“Don’t touch the roast-beef, bitch!” You hissed, pointing a finger against her chest. “Grace won’t have my roast-beef, my homemade gelato, my Sunday breakfast in bed, she won’t have my apple pies, my coffees, my picnics with granny and my Saturday dinners. And no, she will not have the meat either!” You snarled.

Lara cackled. “Nice. Then you should make a plan. ‘Cause I think she wants to take it all. Now that you’re having this sudden mystical revelation, can you also vaguely perceive that you are in L-O-V-E with your flatmate and he’s been pining for you for years and he’d love it if you accidentally fell tits-first on his cock, you big fucking dumb idiot?” Lara said, completely exasperated while a posh, preppy girl gave her the side eye, tutting in disappointment.

“Stop talking about love and all that jazz. We’re platonic. We’re fine. We’re great and we’ll always be, forever.” You said shrugging. “We’ve been friends for years. He’s had plenty of time to make a move, if he were interested.”

“He blushes when old ladies call him charming! God, you’re big dumb!” Lara said, kicking her foot against your toes.

“What?”

“He’s shy! You want him! You’re attracted to him!!! You were literally sobbing his name!” Lara punched your shoulder

You shook your head, making to walk away. “Night-fucking-mere!” You objected violently.

“Li-fucking-ar!” She mirrored as she tugged at your arm and followed you.

Yes. After all, you were a liar. And well, first and foremost, you liked lying to yourself.

“He’s my best friend. I am not attracted to him. And I know I’ll never be.”

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

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

#bangtanhq #thetruthuntoldnet #kim seokjin x reader #jin x reader #kim seokjin #Baker!seokjin #bts fanfiction #bts blog #seokjin flatmates!au #seokjin friends to lovers

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whumpster-fire · 3 years

Text

Athanasia Part 4: The Peddler

Mostly a character-building chapter this time.

Tansy’s refsheet

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

CONTENT WARNINGS: Animal Whump, monster whump, discussion of past animal cruelty, marginally competent caretaker, Idiot Customers trying to get discounts they don’t deserve

For the first time in many, many days, the creature does not awake to the cold and wind and rough bars of rusted iron beneath her. But she still awakes to pain and hunger and thirst.

The traveler who found her lying helpless beside the smashed open cage where the people of the village kept her has cleaned her wounds, and wrapped them tightly in fabric. But two of her legs are still broken. She cannot walk properly, or run or jump or climb, and even to crawl causes such horrible pain it is hard not to make a sound. She is still starving, but he has no food for her in the morning.

She still does not know if she trusts him. He saved her, he fed her, he helped her, he speaks kindly and did not hurt her when she bit him out of fear. But he hurt her when he cleaned her broken front leg. He pinned her to the ground and bound her limbs and jaws so she could not get away or bite or claw him, and cut and poked and scraped at the dying, rotting flesh. It feels a little better now than it did before, and he did not cut it off like he said he might have to, but the pain has still made her afraid to let him close to her again. She was ready for it to be cut off, and what he did to her was gentler than what the other people did many times before, but it is too similar.

Even though the night was cold even inside, and even though the window rattled and wind howled and thunder crashed all night, and some part of her she had forgotten for many, many years longed to be close to the warmth of another, she stayed huddled at the end of the bed all night, as far from him as she could get, and she hissed and growled when he woke her to check on her. She had to get up before the sun rose to avoid wetting the bed, and she knew she could not get down by herself without falling, but she still tried to ignore the discomfort and fall asleep again, and she only worked up the courage to wake him when it became painful.

Right now the empty, tearing feeling in her stomach is almost painful. She had almost forgotten the dull ache, but that little bit of food last night made her notice it again. It was all she could eat, but it was not enough, and the hunger has come back as strong as ever. She sniffs at his pack, and there are old smells of food, but when she looks inside there is nothing but tools and cloth and metal in various shapes.

“I’m sorry, girl. I don’t have anything else for you,” the man says with a sympathetic expression. The creature ignores him, and keeps checking the rest of the room. There are the scents of mice, but she knows she is not fast enough to catch one right now.

Footsteps approach the door. Even before the knock, the creature is alarmed. When the sharp sound rings through the room, she scrambles under the bed and hides there, trembling and fighting not to cry out from the pain moving that much has caused her. It is not the young man from before, it is a woman who brings water and a bowl of something hot and steaming. For a moment she thinks it might be food, and as soon as she leaves she comes out to check, but it only smells of grain and milk and a little bit of fruit. But at least there is water. She does not realize how desperately thirsty she is until she tastes it, but when she does she cannot stop lapping at the bowl until she is almost sick.

“Careful.” He reaches out, and she flinches, expecting to be struck, but he just slides the bowl away. “Don’t drink too much. I’ll get you some food soon, don’t want you spoiling your breakfast.”

But the creature does not feel like eating anymore. Hungry, starving, but her stomach feels like it will burst. She retreats next to the bed and huddles there, hunched over, her body aching and trembling. A chill rushes over her, piercing right through her fur. It has been a long time since it has been clean enough that she can stand to groom herself. She tries to fluff it up to hold in more warmth, but the room wavers and her head is spinning. Her hurt foreleg is throbbing with a terrible, stabbing pain, like many small knives being jabbed and twisted in bruised flesh. The wound is tightly wrapped in cloth, but even so, when she sniffs at it she barely keeps the water down.

The chills eventually pass, but she still feels weaker and shakier than she did before. She barely reacts when he picks her up and puts her in the bag he carries on his back. Even when he closes it and she is alone in the dark, in a small, cramped space with hard things moving around under the cloth and jostling her. Even with muffled voices around her. She just sprawls miserably on her side, hoping he will carry her away from the people soon, and hoping she will not be sick in here where there is nowhere to get away from the mess.

“Tinware! Get your tinwares here! I’ve got mugs, saucers, spoons, ladles, and other goods for coin or trade! If you want it but don’t have it, I sell it, if you have it but don’t want it I’ll buy it, if you have it and do want it I’ll mend it!”

Jonathan Markeley counted the meager couple of coins left in his purse one more time, just to be sure, and grimaced. The sooner he got out of this town, the better. Both for the creature he’d found starved and half-drowned in the rain and mud last night, and for his own sake. Whatever the reason they’d locked her in a tiny cage and hung her out on a post at the edge of town, he knew he’d be in danger if it was found out that he’d saved her and sheltered her, and perhaps even if it wasn’t. He had an uneasy feeling that if they’d done that to an animal the size of a cat that couldn’t be a real threat to them, a yellow-eyed stranger wouldn’t be too welcome either.

But he’d spent most of what he had on a room for the night, and more on food. He’d given the creature the meager amount of meat in the stew the innkeeper’s son had brought him that night, but the porridge served for breakfast had none. Fortunately he’d gotten four eggs for a farthing, and less than half of that was a meal for a creature her size, but if she needed meat twice or more a day that could get expensive. And if he was going to splint the broken bones and dress her wounds better than the poor job he’d managed last night he’d need proper supplies. It seemed like the poor creature was sick, too. He didn’t know how to tell if she had a fever, or how to help her if she did. They’d always broken for him, even when it seemed a miracle, but she was in bad enough shape as it was. He wanted to just get out of this place, but he still needed to earn a living. For both of them now.

Roger Snelling eyed the peddler who’d spread his wares about at the side of the road with some suspicion. Roger made it his business to know who came and went from the town, and he was fairly certain he hadn’t seen this man before. Not recently, nor in previous years. He’d never felt the itinerant traders and craftsmen who frequented the town could be trusted – there had to be a reason for a man to always move on to the next village before anyone could get to know him – and it seemed a strange coincidence that this fellow would appear in the village the very same night that the gibbet post on the northern edge of the village had blown down. ~~

“Morning!” A middle-aged man with shoulder-length, graying dirty blond hair hailed Jonathan. He briefly glanced up, but his eyes quickly returned to the pitcher he was hammering a dent out of, and he kept them hidden under his wide-brimmed hat.

“Morning,” he grunted in reply.

“What’s your name?”

“John.”

The man sidled closer. He leaned against a hitching post, but didn’t come close enough to make it seem like he was ready to make a purchase. “I’m Roger. Haven’t seen you before, John. You just got in last night?”

“Aye.”

“Must’ve had a time of it in that storm.”

“Oh, I did, believe me. If it weren’t for my feet sinking to my ankles in the mud I’d probably have been blown clear off the road.”

“Where from?”

“Kenningsford.”

“From the South, then? So you’d have seen the gibbet post?”

Jonathan’s brow tensed. This man didn’t seem like he was part of the law in the village, just a busybody with too much time on his hands, but those could be plenty dangerous. He already felt like he was being interrogated, and he had a feeling he knew where this line of questioning was leading.

“What about it? Was there a sign up there I was supposed to read?” It seemed like a plausible thing to believe.

“It blew down in the storm last night. There was a cage hanging from it. Do you know anything about that?”

Jonathan ran his fingers through his beard in an attempt to look thoughtful. “I saw the post down in the road, aye. I didn’t notice a cage, but I was more concerned with getting out of the rain – and thanking the Lord the thing didn’t fall on me!”

Roger pursed his lips. “It was about this big… we found it smashed open this morning, I guess you might not have seen it in the mud -”

John decided the best approach was to pretend he had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. “What, that small? You can’t fit a man in a cage that small, can you?”

“No, but -”

“What would you even put in there, a man’s head?” he interrupted again. “Why’d that need a cage around it? Or a baby, but – well, I’d assumed you folk were more civilized. This ain’t France, eh?” John had a moment of panic as he tried to remember if the latest war had been against the French. It seemed like a safe bet.

“It wasn’t a head, it was an animal inside there!” Roger snapped. He was looking a little agitated. “Or something that looks like one anyway, we don’t know if it’s some sort of demon or something, but it’s not natural whatever it is. It’s been in there for a couple of months, and this morning the cage was empty!”

A couple of months. John’s grip on his hammer tightened. They’d left her in there for months… he hadn’t gotten a good look at the cage, but it looked almost too small to turn around in. But he couldn’t let on that he knew… and if this Roger wanted information out of him, he was going to get information back. “An animal?” he repeated skeptically.

“Aye. Was it there when you passed by?” Roger took a slow step closer, his eyes narrowed.

“Don’t know. Didn’t see one or hear one. Must’ve run off by then.”

“Run off?” Roger’s face lit up like a dog that had scented its quarry. “What makes you say that?”

John pulled his hat lower and glared at the saucer he was polishing. “You said the cage was empty, where else would it go?”

“It could’ve flown off. I never said it wasn’t a bird.”

John ground the polishing cloth into the metal. He’d slipped. Just a small mistake though, one he could cover easily. “You never said it was either. Look, if you’re accusing me of some crime or I’m not welcome in this town, just say so, but stop actin’ like I’m some common criminal.” He looked up, for once meeting Roger’s eyes directly. The older man’s probing expression quickly turned to intimidated discomfort, and he looked away. Older looking, at least. John knew that in truth he was far younger. “What, do you think I stopped in the middle of that bloody storm to chop the thing down?”

“No, no – my apologies, I wasn’t accusing you of nothing!” Roger quickly regained his composure. “You’ve got… unusual eyes.”

“Hmm. No one’s ever informed me before,” John replied with subtly, dry sarcasm.

“Sorry. Couldn’t help noticing. I was just wondering if you’d seen any… tracks in the mud the rain might have washed away by morning, any other signs...”

“Can’t say I did. I’ll keep my eye out, though. What sort of creature was it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s even really of this Earth. It was… near cat-sized, with black and white striped fur -”

“A badger?”

“No, smaller than a cat, not larger. It had this long bushy tail with black and white rings on it -”

“What, like a squirrel?”

“No, it was a beast of prey. Long, slender body, ears near as big as its head...”

“Ohh...” John let a look of recognition cross his face. “You mean a tabby cat? Aye, I’ve heard of those. Think I saw one on the church roof this morning.” He suppressed a grin at the consternation on Roger’s face. He was starting to enjoy this.

“Not a cat, no! A cat’s… closer, at least, but you’d know it from a cat if you saw it.” He scratched his thin goatee. “You know, old Tom Porter’s theory’s that a wildcat crossed paths with a vixen in heat and that thing was the result. I think it’s a bit more ferret-ish, but I’ve never seen anything else like it, and I don’t know anyone who has. It’s got eyes like a cat, though. Big yellow ones… a bit like yours, actually.”

“Are you suggesting it shapeshifts now?”

“Eh? No, don’t be ridiculous!” Roger laughed.

“So, why was it caged up out there? Going to show it off at the fair?”

“Oh, we have. A few times. But to tell you the truth, people’ve gotten tired of the thing. It stopped putting on as good a show after a while, so they just hung it up there to… make an example of it, I suppose. I don’t know if there’s more of ‘em out there to scare off, but even if it’s just punishin’ the damned thing, that’s fine by me.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Seems a bit… excessive.”

Roger leaned in close with an angry sneer. “Listen, the damn thing’s vermin, no different from a fox or stoat. Worse, even. Poor Farmer Brown lost a whole henhouse in one night, it just… ripped them all to pieces. Blood everywhere. I’ve seen foxes kill for sport, but not like that. It’s torn men’s hands to shreds – did this to me not long after we trapped it.” He rolled up his shirt sleeve, revealing a series of messy, badly healed scars.

“I wasn’t arguing against killing it,” John said. Good for her, he thought. He struggled to keep his voice level. “Just… why not just shoot it?”

“Oh, we tried, believe me. It just… came back.”

A thrill of exhilaration ran through John’s chest. He was right. She was like him, a creature of the same nature. “You’re sure it wasn’t just another creature of the same kind?”

“Aye, that’s what everyone thought at first, but wouldn’t it be a strange coincidence? No-one’d ever seen one before, but then three turn up, here, in just a few months? First I heard of it was Lord Hawkwood apparently caught a strange beast on a fox hunt. They said what was left of it after the dogs were through with it wasn’t worth bringing the pelt back, but it sounds like it was the right size and color and least. But not days later somethin’ starts raiding henhouses. Finally we’ve had enough, a few of us track it down, and Brown shot it. The thing was still moving after half its chest was blown open, thought it was going to limp away until he shot it again. So I thought, well, that’s the end of that, now all we’ve got to worry about’s if Charles – he’s the lord’s gamekeeper – will try to cheat Brown out of a bounty on account of no one ever seeing it before so there’s no price for whatever it is.” Roger was becoming more and more animated and excited as he talked. “Well that worked out fair, Charles strung it up, but a few days later the carcass just up and disappeared off the gibbet. And that was the very same night poor Jack Brown lost his chickens. Not any of the other farmers it was going after before, just the man that shot it.”

At this, John gave a forced, exaggerated laugh. “Ahh… Good one, you had me going for a while!”

“What do you mean? Do you think it’s funny? What’s funny about an honest man losing his livelihood?”

“Nothing, it’s just… come on, mate, I know you’re playing me for a fool. Do you tell that story to every stranger who comes this way? You’re saying it came back from the dead for revenge? Sounds more like something took the body and ate it, and either it or something else ate the chickens.”

“No, not for revenge, it just… comes back. Mrs. Brown saw the damn thing slinking away from the henhouse, eyes burning like torches. It took weeks before they caught the thing. I can’t recall if the pattern of stripes was the exact same as the one we shot before, but Charles slit its throat, shoved the body in a cage just to be sure it wouldn’t wander off again, and the very next day it was on its feet and angry. We’ve tried gutting it, cutting its head off… even burned the damn body to ashes once. I’m telling you, it ain’t one of God’s creatures, if you know what I mean. But even the Bishop didn’t know what it was or what to do with it. So, like I said, we started making a sport of it. Show it off at the fair, make a show of drowning it or setting dogs on it, something like that, then have the people come back the next day to see it… not usually good as new after just a day, but definitely not dead.”

John’s heart was breaking as the story went on. He stood up and hid his hands in his pockets to avoid making fists. God he wanted to knock that grin off Roger’s face. When he was a lad there’d been older boys who thought it was good sport to hold him down and beat him with sticks, because the bruises and even missing teeth would be gone in a few days. And he’d believed for the longest time that it was wrong for him to fight back, because even a broken nose might never be the same. These days it was more about caution, about not drawing attention to himself. But he’d always hated men who took pleasure from tormenting those they saw as below them. Their wives, their children, those of lower social standing, animals.

“It’d be more convincing if you actually had this animal,” he remarked through a strained veneer of casual indifference.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but I swear it’s real. You can ask anyone in the village and they’ll tell you the same. Not sure I’ll sleep easy knowing that thing’s loose, though.” He suddenly swooped forward like a hawk, picking up a finely shaped pewter teapot. “Ooh, the wife’d love this! Could you… hmm, could you make a set of matching teacups and saucers to go with it?”

“Sorry, no custom orders. I have to be on my way before tonight. If she enjoys the pot I might have her in mind the next time I come this way,” John lied, having no intention of returning to the village any time soon. Maybe not ever, or at least not until every current resident was dead and buried. “Or I have several cups and saucers to choose from.”

“Well yes, but I was hoping for the flower-patterned engravings.” Roger sighed. “I suppose just the pot then. How much for it?”

“A shilling.”

Roger scowled. “A shilling? What kind of fool do you take me for? He turned it over in his hands, but seemed more preoccupied with making a show of inspecting it than actually doing so. “I’ll give you fourpence.”

“I didn’t take you for a thief, but that’s what you’ll be if I let you take it for that.” John extended a hand. “I’ll be having it back if you can’t pay a fair price.”

“Four’s fair, especially with this scratch on the handle. I might be willing to pay six if that were fixed… or the full shilling with two cups and saucers.”

“Four’s barely what the metal’d be worth as scrap. If you’re going to insult my work you can clear off.” This was ridiculous. The teapot was one of the heavier items he had to sell, and he was eager to be rid of the weight and bulk, but not if he couldn’t at least cover the night’s stay. “I brought the price down from sixteen because of your story, but I can get at least that much in Sheffield.”

“Ehh… I’ll give you eight.”

“I won’t sell it for any less than ten. Take it or leave it.”

“Hmm...” Roger’s eyes darted around. “Nine and that sugar bowl? It’s plain, but -”

“Ninepence and you take the pot and the bowl as they are.”

Roger hesitated for a while. “I’ll take ‘em. You’re a hard bargainer and a fine craftsman.”

“As are you, sir. But you’ve got a good eye. It’s a pleasure doing business with you – and give your wife my regards.”

But as soon as Roger was safely out of earshot, Jonathan growled under his breath. “You’re a ball-less cur, and your wife’s a bitch if she married you and hasn’t poisoned you yet.” He almost wanted to use tweezers to count out the coins so he wouldn’t touch anything Roger had touched. But at least he’d told him what he needed to know about the creature. And he hadn’t gotten as much as he’d hoped for the teapot, but it was enough. It would get them to the next town. And if he could make another sale or two, perhaps buy some medicine. It probably wasn’t a good sign that she’d been hidden right there in his pack all this time and not made a fuss.

Roger Snelling turned the teapot over in his hands as he walked away, whistling a jaunty tune. The peddler was a surly fellow, and suspicious, but he had to admit it was good workmanship.

Good workmanship, but Roger wasn’t so sure it was his. He’d gotten a look at the man’s hands as coin and goods were exchanged, and they weren’t smooth, exactly, but they were… odd. Rough and calloused like a working man’s should have been, but not a scar on them. Not from a burn or carelessly touching hot metal or a slip with a knife or other sharp tool. It was strange. All the smiths he knew had at least a few marks, no matter how careful or lucky they were. He was half inclined to believe the man had stolen them, but then a thief’s hands wouldn’t be so pristine either. Probably just a trader who bought and resold things, that must have been why he was so reluctant to change or mend things, because he couldn’t. But the little scratch wasn’t really noticeable. Roger had only pointed it out to try to get a better price.

#whump #my writing #Tansy (OC)#Jonathan Markley (OC)#animal whump tw #monster whumpee #broken bones #fever #past animal cruelty discussion #immortal whumpee

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tetrakys · 4 years

Note

idk if someone send you that request but it obviously matches Armin: 43, 42 & 52

42. “Just let me finish this/this level and I swear I’ll go down on you until you cum at least three times.” & 43. “If I have to stop what I’m doing, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.” & 52. “I’m not jealous! It’s just…you’re mine!”

I’m sorry honey this took me only what… four/five months? 😅 hope it was worth the wait.

I needed something quick and dirty with UL Armin and I remembered this prompt request. I know there’s probably only 3 people here who may be interested in this, so @itsmymindspeaking and @fuckyalllifes this is for us 😂

I chugged my drink in one go, a little dizziness coming to my head. I had spent good part of the night drinking and I was feeling just a little tipsy. It wasn’t like I was bored, I was out with my friends after all, but I wasn’t having the time of my life either.

I looked at Alexy and Morgan kissing passionately without a care in the world, and then at Rosa and Leigh, looking at each other with a complicity that anyone would’ve envied.

Then I looked at the empty seat right next to me.

“Is everything all right, Candy?” Rosa asked, sensing my discomfort. “It’s about Armin, isn’t it? Where is he, anyway? It feels like I haven’t seen him in ages.”

“Where do you think?” I replied without managing to hide the annoyance from my voice. “In his dorm room of course. He’s been holed up in there since the beginning of spring break.”

“Wait… he’s not… no it can’t be… is he spending the holidays playing video games 24/7?”

“Of course he is!” Alexy replied before I’d time to say anything. He must’ve caught our conversation between one kiss and the next. “Yesterday morning I left him sitting in front of the tv playing that stupid co-op game he likes so much, and that’s exactly where I found him this evening before we came here. I’m not even surprised, I gave up on him years ago.” He turned back in his seat, looking at Morgan adoringly. “Luckily, I don’t have to suffer through the night because of his constant jabbering with his geek friends, I’ve found a more comfortable accommodation. If I’m kept up all night is for completely different and more pleasurable reasons.”

After those words he started kissing Morgan again, abandoning the rest of the conversation.

“Well,” Rosa went on, “this isn’t right. You can’t let him take you for granted, Candy. Do something!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… try to make him jealous.”

“Ha! You know that won’t work. He’s the least possessive person on the face of the Earth.” I replied a little defeated.

“Then remind him what he’s missing out on by spending the whole time in front of a screen instead of his girlfriend!”

“Meaning? You know that I won’t be able to tempt him with a date. The times we go out, he does it just to please me, if it were for him we would spend the whole day in his room playing games. And don’t get me wrong, I love playing with him, it’s just that sometimes I need more, like…” I hesitated, “I don’t know, I feel like a spoiled child just saying this but… sometimes I just want his undivided attention.”

“Then take it!”

“How?”

She looked at me like I was stupid.

“You’re a woman, it’s not that hard to figure out. Do I need to check your underwear like in high school?”

“There’s no need. But… are you suggesting using my body to beg him for attention? Isn’t it a little too desperate?” I asked biting my lip nervously.

“Aren’t you? Desperate?” she replied ironically. “Look, it’s not that big of deal, really. Even I… you know how Leigh can get sometimes,” she looked at him queuing at the bar to get us a refill. “He’s so passionate about his work. Sometimes I need to remind him to take a break,” she laughed.

“Mmm…” I replied evasively. Her words weren’t completely unreasonable. I was a strong, modern woman, if I wanted something, I just had to take it. I’m a woman hear me roar and all that…

Maybe… maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

—

“Be careful… On your right! No! Fuck! It’s a grenade!”

I was leaning against the doorframe as I stared at my boyfriend, willing him to take notice of me. He was sitting down on the floor, back against the bed, wearing only his boxer shorts and a t-shirt. Controller in his hands, his eyes fixed on the big screen in front of him. I could hear the muffled voices of his teammates coming from the headphones he was wearing.

I’d let myself in thanks to my spare keys ten minutes ago, and since then I’d been waiting for him to strike a conversation with me. A distracted “Hi babe,” was everything that I’d gotten so far.

I thought again about Rosa’s suggestion. Was I really going to do this? Yes, yes I was. It was time to send the message through.

I started from my shoes, removing one at the time, then it was my t-shirt’s turn. I thought it was going to take longer for him to take notice of what was going on, but he must’ve caught the garment dropping to the floor with the corner of his eye, because he sent me a quick glance, surprised, and asked, “what are you doing, babe?”

“Just making myself comfortable,” I replied, as my hands went to the zip of my jeans.

I continued undressing seemingly without a care in the world, and he kept playing, but I could tell he wasn’t as focused as he’d been before. He kept throwing quick glances my way whenever he had a chance.

Soon enough I was left in just my underwear, but I didn’t stop, and went for the clasp of my bra.

“Fuck!” he cried out, he’d clearly messed up something in the game the moment my bra had come off and he’d stared at my breasts one second too long. I could hear irate voices coming from his headphones. “Just let me finish this level and I swear I’ll go down on you until you cum at least three times,” he said in an almost pleading voice.

I simply shook my head as with slow, calculating movements, I slipped my fingers under the hem of my panties and let them fall to the floor.

A horse groan came directly from his throat. “If I have to stop what I’m doing, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.” He tried to sound authoritative, failing miserably. “Please…”

“Keep playing, Armin.” I said walking towards him.

Without giving him any time to realise what I was about to do, I kneeled on the floor and forced my way between his arms, straddling him.

“Candy,” he cried out a little panicked, his hands almost losing their grip on the controller, “what…”

“Shhh…” I whispered in his ear. “Keep playing, not a sound, otherwise your friends are going to figure out something is going on.”

After these words, I started languidly kissing his neck. From the stiffness of his body, around which I was completely enveloped, I knew he was shocked and didn’t know exactly what to do. His shallow breaths were also an indication of his nervousness, and if the angry voices I could hear yelling at him from his headphones weren’t indication enough of the fact that he was pretty distracted, only half concentrating on the game, the hard length pressing against my core would’ve definitely been a telling hint.

“Fuck!” he groaned the moment I lowered the hem of his boxer briefs and took him in my hand. A couple of short, tentative strokes.

“MadHatter what the hell!” I heard someone yelling, and I knew Armin was finding more and more difficult to concentrate. Without wasting any more time, I lowered myself onto him, filling me to the hilt.

“Shhh…” I whispered again, as he started making a series of unintelligible sounds. “Don’t even think about muting the mic. Eyes on that screen and play, I know how important it is to you.”

I started riding him slowly, almost excruciatingly slow. I knew I was making him go completely crazy. My hands where at each side of his head, holding the bed frame. No other parts of our bodies were touching, except for our cores, and my nipples rubbing against his still clothed chest, every time I moved up and down.

“Candy… Fuck… I can’t… this is too hot…”

I knew he’d dropped the controller the moment I felt both of his hands on my ass, as he started guiding my movements faster and deeper. The irate protests of his teammates coming from the headphones signalled he’d just left out of the blue in the middle of the game. Everyone was probably getting slaughtered by the other team, but he didn’t seem to care. He took my lips with his and gave me a hungry, mind-blowing kiss.

Our movements got wilder, the pace almost brutal, punishing. I was throwing all my anger into it and, at the same time, he was taking everything and demanding even more, his fingers probably leaving ten small bruises on the skin of my ass cheeks. I was sure we would either pass out soon due to lack of oxygen or seriously hurt ourselves.

A few minutes later, when he took one of my nipples in his mouth and sucked it roughly, I came completely undone, crying out his name as he spent himself inside me.

“I don’t know what I did to make you so angry,” he said after a while, as we both caught our breaths, “but I should probably do it more often.”

“Or maybe you should just pay me some fucking attention,” I retorted. “Instead of playing with your online friends all the time. And then, maybe, you would get fucked senseless more often.”

He moved his head so that now he was looking at me in the eye with his signature jokester smile. “Are you jealous, babe?”

I grabbed his hair, pulling maybe a little more roughly than necessary. “I’m not jealous! It’s just…you’re mine!”

“That, I am.” Without losing his hold on me, he got up and threw me onto the bed.

“Armin what the…”

“I told you, didn’t I? If I had to stop playing, you wouldn’t be able to walk for a week.” He cheekily, replied as he took off his t-shirt and underwear and joined me on the bed.

He didn’t go back online until the end of spring break.

#my candy love #mclul #mcl armin #amour sucré #mcl #my writing #writeblr #writing prompts #lemon

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the-smartest-mallard · 4 years

Text

One Last Night || Huriel

SUMMARY: Huey & Ariel take Kimberly for one last prom, and meet a few people along the way NOTES/TWs: TW for death, but it’s not explicit rlly; kinda sad but also super sweet <3

@ariel-the-rebel

ARIEL/KIMBERLY:

Ariel was still a passenger in her own body. And it was miserable! She couldn’t believe this was happening. This ghost - Kimberly - had basically tricked her into drinking with her - ghost powers or whatever! All she could do now was watch and rage at the new driver.

Kimberly, for the record, wasn’t loving this either. Ariel lacked not only her long hair and legs from another life - but also her sense of style. She had to really try and pull a suitable look together for prom considering this closet barely had anything.

But, she tried. And she thinks she did okay - especially after raiding another sister or two’s room. Honestly, how big was this Ariel girl’s family?

And when the doorbell rang, she dashed down the stairs to answer it. Taking only a moment just before to adjust anything that might have moved out of place then carefully answered with a big smile. “Huey?”

HUEY:

Huey had rushed across town, the Holy Grail still wrapped in a blanket in his backpack, and he had gotten changed as quickly as he could. He hadn’t thought about prom that much because he hadn’t thought he was going, so all that was left to do was grab a black suit from the back of his wardrobe, tame his hair, and then contemplate what on Earth he was going to do with the Holy Grail.

He couldn’t leave it at home. What if someone had been after them and was watching him right now? Taking it to prom seemed like a horrible idea too, too much scope for someone to pick it up and grab it, but he would definitely feel better if it was within his eyeline at all times.

He was going to have to take it to prom.

He checked his watch; he needed to get going. There was time to pin a swan feather from his collection (of feathers in general, not just swan feathers— that would be weird), and nab another before he left, backpack and Holy Grail in tow.

He pressed the doorbell at Ariel’s and then stepped back, waiting for the door to open. He was not at all expecting the sight he was met with — the dress, the heels, the makeup. He blinked, and then he smiled, “Hey. You look nice. Very nice. Are any of those from Ariel’s wardrobe?” He was just teasing… mostly. “I brought you something, but— well. I don’t want to ruin your outfit.” He produced a black swan feather, twirling it between finger and thumb. “It’s Swan Lake theme, tonight.”

ARIEL/KIMBERLY:

“Thanks. I did what I could with...this,” Kimberly groaned, gesturing to herself. Well, Ariel. “I had to raid two other sisters’ closets for some of this - the dress though, you’ll be pleased to know, was in her’s. In the way back though like a dirty secret.”

She giggled at herself, stepping out of the house now and closing the door behind her before walking over to Huey. What she was expecting next was flowers. Or a corsage. Instead, a black feather. Which she made a face at first.

Oh. Yes. The theme. She hadn’t even thought of that.

“I wish you’d told me about the theme before I got ready,” She huffed, taking the feather and after a moment just tucking it into her hair. It’d have to do for now. She then looked him up and down. “You clean up very nice yourself, though.”

HUEY:

“Yeah — Sorry.” Huey cringed a little, but in his own defence, he had forgotten there was a theme at all until he had gotten home and remembered his brothers talking about their outfits and prom and themes, in particular. And he also had a lot on his mind right now — being on-theme for the prom was the least of his worries.

The blush that coloured his cheeks when she looked him up and down was not unexpected, but still a little strange. It felt almost wrong, in a way, because even though the girl in front of him was technically his girlfriend, she also definitely wasn’t. He gave a weak smile, tried for a slightly better one, and then said, “Um, thanks. Might��ve done better with a little more time, but…” he shrugged, and then gestured to the street behind him. “Shall we get going?”

They were going to have to walk, but it wasn’t like it was far. With all the one way roads and tourist traffic it would probably take longer in a car than on foot. “Did anyone see you inside the house?”

ARIEL/KIMBERLY:

“Uh, are we walking? Really?” Kimberly whined, looking between Huey and the road. But the look he gave her said they indeed were, so she huffed and followed him down the steps of the Triton home. Which was not the home she expected Ariel to come from. “Fine. Let’s just go already.”

She lifted up her dress, being careful to not ruin it. She didn’t think it looked expensive or anything, but she did not want to be caught dead in a ruined dress by the time she got to prom. Even if it wasn’t her. And she was dead.

The thought only made her angrier, and she reached out, forcefully looping her arm with his. “Of course not. I’m very sneaky.” She wasn’t, but no one was home, thankfully. It seemed they’d all already gone off to enjoy the festivities.

HUEY:

Huey simply arched his eyebrows in answer; he could’ve been sarcastic, or he could’ve given her a genuine answer, but he figured that that look was enough. It wasn’t like it was far away, though he did make a mental note to keep an eye on her dress - he didn’t want anything happening to it.

“The queen of sneaky, apparently. I’m impressed you got that dress with no one noticing.” He meant that, too; there were only 4 in his house and he could barely get away with anything. He couldn’t imagine having 8 knocking about the place.

He didn’t mind her arm looped with his. He would’ve offered, if he hadn’t been worried that she would take his head off for it. Kimberly was kinda scary. “So who was your date meant to be? Anyone nice?” He paused, and then cleared his throat. “Or I can stop asking, if you want. We don’t have to talk about it.”

ARIEL/KIMBERLY:

Kimberly’s - Ariel’s? This was so confusing - lips came together in a thin line at that. Part of her wanted to order him to stop talking. Just take her to prom so she can have a good time.

But another part…

“His name was David,” She started, careful. She wondered what had happened to him. Had he been upset? Angry, even, that she hadn’t shown up to prom? Did he wonder about what happened to her? “He was...very nice. A real gentleman. He went all out asking me to prom.” The thought made her smile.

HUEY:

Huey nodded as he listened, wondering who the mysterious David might have been. Was he still in Swynlake? Did he remember her? He must do. Huey would remember Ariel forever, he thought, if she went missing… yeah, no, he didn’t want to think about that at all actually.

“He sounds great.” He told her, offering Kimberly a gentle smile. He hadn’t even really asked Ariel to prom; at first he had just sort of assumed they were going, and then they weren’t going at all. The smile on her face was enough to make Huey feel a little pit of guilt deep in his stomach — he really needed to make more of an effort.

“Fair warning, tonight might be… something. I don’t know if it’s always been a thing, but secondary school prom tends to be… dramatic.”

ARIEL/KIMBERLY:

“He was,” Kimberly said, nodding a little. Her eyes slipped closed for just a moment...perhaps caught up in memories of David. Or just her life before...well, this.

Death. A cold reminder slipping up her back and sending chills.

A bit of a buzzkill, aren’t you…

If she could hiss at the voice in her - Ariel’s - head - which was Ariel… Still! She’d do it! Do you know how hard it is to get ready when someone is telling you to stop in your head? Like they were screaming bloody murder? If anything, Ariel should thank her! She looked absolutely cute - and that took some effort.

She snapped out of the small argument she felt coming on with Ariel, then looked to Huey. “Define dramatic? Because I feel like when you say dramatic, you mean more than just crying in the bathroom.”

HUEY:

“Well… a few years ago someone set the gym on fire. I think that’s the worst it’s ever been, to be honest, but still. I wasn’t even there and I have PTSD.”

It was most of the reason why Huey dreaded this time of year, honestly. He loved a party (he really loved planning parties too, but being on committee meant working with one or many Ashleys, and he wasn’t about to volunteer for that), and he would love prom if he could just go and hang out with his friends and dance a little awkwardly and then go home after a night well spent. Unfortunately though… it seemed it was never destined to be just a simple night.

(For the record: the other reason he didn’t get too excited for prom was the theme. Dressing to a theme was hard…)

“Hopefully tonight won’t be too bad, though?” He tried for a smile, but he knew it was a little lacklustre “it’ll be fun. We’ll make the best of it, I promise.”

ARIEL/KIMBERLY:

Kimberly jerked slightly, turning her whole body to look at him. “I’m sorry - what? What kind of animals is that school raising?” She hissed.

Wait until you meet the Ashleys.

“And what’s an Ashley?” She sneered. “Ariel did not sound happy about them.”

But then she stopped, and listened to Huey. She knows she’s normally bad at that. Her father even told her that a lot. Maybe if she listened more, she wouldn’t be in this situation. Dead and lost to time.

“...I’m sorry. You’re right. Let’s - yeah, let’s try to have a good time.”

HUEY:

Ashleys. Huey immediately grimaced, looking down at his shoes. “An Ashley is one of several Ashleys who are all mean for no reason, each in their own special way. The move in a pack and think they run the place.” He paused, looking at Kimberly and shrugging. “They shouldn’t bother us, though. I get the feeling they’re gonna have more on their plate at prom. They take prom queen very seriously.”

He would just make sure they steered clear of the Ashleys as best they could tonight; it should be easy enough, cause like he said - the Ashleys generally had more to worry about than the two of them. Although, with Ariel dressed like that…

They were coming up on the school now, and Huey gave her a smile, a proper one. A good time. They could manage that. “Okay — get ready for the most magical night of your life,” he led her inside the building, casting a glance at the decorations. “...or something.”

ARIEL/KIMBERLY

Kimberly nodded, understanding completely. So they were the ones in charge. Looking at Huey, she knew why’d they single him out. He was very nerdy, after all. She wanted to bring up how she had been somewhat like that with her friends. Before the Grail consumed her life. But her words died in her mouth.

Huey was nice. And she didn’t want to make this more awkward. Despite her attitude.

As they came upon the school, she had a sick sense of deja vu and her stomach turned. It had been so long...and it looked so much the same. Yet so different. But he spoke again, trying to be cheery and they entered the building.

She laughed a little, the decorations coming into view and some poppy song she’d never heard assaulted her eardrums. “Afterlife, maybe,” She joked, then looked around. “Whoa...what do you guys think fashion is nowadays?”

HUEY:

Afterlife, of course. Huey actually laughed, which kind of startled him; it felt almost bad to joke about it. It was a sad, sombre sort of thing. But if she was the one making the jokes, well… maybe he was allowed to laugh?

Huey wasn’t surprised by anything he saw as he looked around the room of assembled teenagers. Every event was like some kind of costume competition, with the objective of being the biggest, most glamorous, most outrageous person in the room, and tonight was absolutely no exception. Still. He dreaded to think what an 80s prom might look like.

“Well… I mean, we used to think that about you guys. No offense. But why was everything neon?” Questionable, and Huey didn’t even know anything about fashion. He took a breath, looking again at Kimberly. “So… what do you want to do first?”

ARIEL/KIMBERLY:

Kimberly looked to Huey, and smiled a little at the laugh. It really lifted her spirits to hear it. Maybe tonight would be good. Maybe this was the prom she was meant to go to. Sure, she’d love to have gone to her own. Be among her own peers, but…

“Excuse you!” She gasped, swatting at him playfully. “My original dress was AMAZING, I’ll have you know!” She giggled though, still holding onto his arm as he continued to speak. Then hummed as she looked around. “Gosh, there’s so much - Oh! Lets go get a picture taken!” She said this, shoving him towards the little picture area. “So we can never forget and - oof!”

“Uh! Triton, what the hell, you clumsy little - what are you wearing?” Ashlé started as they ran into her, ready to tear them apart before taking a small step back to look at them. “Did one of your sisters pick this out?”

Kimberly’s nose scrunched up. Oh, she knew girls like her. Already five seconds in, and she knew. “Do I know you?” She asked, going to flip her long blonde hair but remembering it wasn’t there. “You and your train are in the way.”

Ashlé’s face soured more. “Mallard, what drugs is your girlfriend on?”

“Why - I’d never!” Kimberly chirped up, looking to Huey now.

HUEY:

A picture sounded good, actually. He didn’t want to mention the fact that it would be he who held onto it, not her, because she seemed to picking up a bit, and he knew better than to ruin that mood. So instead he gave a laugh, tugging her by the arm over to the backdrop they had set up—

Straight into the path of an Ashley.

Or Ashlé, to be specific. Huey sighed, about to just apologise and skirt around her… but apparently, that wasn’t to be.

“Kim— Ariel.” He hissed, giving her a warning look before he looked to Ashlé. It was absolutely not like Huey to talk back to an Ashley, especially not after that run in with Ashley A a while back, but maybe it was the fact that his girlfriend was possessed and he had the Holy Grail in his backpack - he was feeling bold.

(And maybe, on some level, he was sort of, just a little, trying to impress Kimberly. Maybe. Which was exactly why he said:)

“Well, y’know, it’s hard to recognise you under all that dress, Ashlé. Plus, with the lackeys back there, we thought it might be someone important.” Instant regret. He was dead. Time to leave. “C’mon, Ariel,” He tried to tug her out of the way, back towards the other wall.

ARIEL/KIMBERLY:

Get her, Huey!

Ariel’s cheers ran through the head Kimberly found herself possessing, and she was in agreement. Even impressed, her eyes widening a little in surprise as she looked to Huey. Now she understood why the little spitfire seemed to like him so much. Maybe there was more to him than book smarts.

“Real mature, Mallard. Going after a girls’ looks,” Ashlé twisted, taking a step closer, lackeys moving with her. In her heels, she came eye to eye with him, unlike most girls. Her hand reached out to grip the back of his tux, keeping him in place. “Just because I’m graduating doesn’t mean you’ll escape my wrath.” Her nails dug into him. “Don’t think you’re safe.”

“Oh, come off it!” Kimberly erupted, causing a couple heads to turn and glance curiously their way. She stepped forward and yanked the clawed hand off her date. “I don’t have time for bitches ruining my night! I’ve waited too long for whoever you think you are to come and ruin it!”

“Triton, don’t forget who you’re talking to!”

“I don’t even know who I’m talking to!”

HUEY:

Huey had explained to enough people by now that it was not just fight or flight, but fight or flight or freeze, a hidden third option chosen by most rodents. Right now he felt like just that, a mouse caught in the paws of a sadistic cat. So that was just what did — he froze, but he couldn’t help but look right back at her, meeting her gaze so maybe it looked at least kind of like he wasn’t sure he was about to die?

When Kimberly swooped in to save the day, he was more than a little relieved. He looked over at her, not at all surprised that she was something of a spitfire. She would have to be, looking for the Grail on her own, holding onto it like she had…

“I think we would all be having a better night if we were on opposite sides of the room.” He concluded, stepping back to make sure he was out of Ashlé’s grasp and reaching for Ariel at the same time, taking her hand before it could be used to slap Ashlé. “I’m sure if you start walking your minions will follow.” He added, looking between the two who were still just holding onto her dress. Did they know how to do anything else?

“C’mon,” he urged Kimberly, tugging on her hand. “Photo time.”

ARIEL/KIMBERLY:

Kimberly was very much thinking of Ashlé. And Ariel’s screams of anarchy inside her skull were definitely all the encouragement she needed.

But then Huey grabbed her hand, and she remembered where they were. Who she was with. And who she was. This was all beneath her. Even though she wanted to tear out every feather in this girl’s dress, she let Huey hold her back before silently nodding in agreement with him and turning away.

All Ashlé got out before they walked off was a huff and a, “Typical.”

“And there are more of them?” Kimberly harshly whispered to him as they made their way to the photo area.

HUEY:

“Unfortunately.” He muttered, shooting a look at Ashlé out of the corner of his eye. No doubt she would regroup with the rest of her coven, though whether Huey and (not) Ariel were big enough news to be passed on to the rest of the group was debatable. “I’m pretty sure they multiply every other day.”

Enough of that, though. Hopefully they wouldn’t have any more run-ins with Ashleys for the rest of the night.

He led her over to the backdrop — he didn’t know who had painted it, but it was actually kind of good, with the lake in the background and the scenery and stuff. Not a half bad job. The last group was just vacating the photo area when they got there, so before anyone else could swoop in, Huey pulled Kimberly forward. “Okay — this is your perfect prom, you get to pick the pose. Whatever you want.”

ARIEL/KIMBERLY:

Uh, Kimberly wanted to tear out those dumb feathers from that stupid dress. But Huey guiding her away was able to calm her down enough for her attention to switch to something more improtant. Pictures!

“Oh! We have to go classic, of course!” She said, now grabbing him and yanking him in place. “You know, you behind me. Hands around my waist, my hands on your’s. You know!” As she spoke, she tried to pull him into the position, no matter how awkward his long limbs moved in comparison to her.

She wondered for a moment how someone so small as Ariel kissed him. Which got an angry rant from Ariel herself - which went ignored. She’d gotten quite good at ignoring her.

“Okay, ready? Okay! Smile!”

HUEY:

“Right, right,” Huey nodded, his mind casting back to all those vintage photos of people at their proms. Did people even still do that? He wasn’t surprised to find that he didn’t care. It’d be a nice photo, something that would be funny in hindsight, and if it made Kimberly happy, he wasn’t going to complain. He just let her drag him into the right position, trying not to accidentally elbow her in the ribs or step on her toes or something as he wrapped his arms around her middle.

For a moment, he thought about how it was still so strange, looking at his girlfriend and seeing someone else. Because sure, her eyes were a different colour now, and she was wearing clothes that Ariel was probably really mad about, deep down in there, but it was more than just that. She seemed totally different, her expressions, her mannerisms — he didn’t know how no one else had noticed it.

The flash went off on the camera, momentarily blinding him, and Huey used the time spent blinking stars out of his eyes to stow that thought away. A few more hours and Kimberly could be at peace, and Ariel would be back. In the meantime, they just had to try and navigate prom.

“Let’s go look at it,” he urged her, pulling her towards the photographer as he showed off the photo he’d taken. “Well?” He looked at Kimberly. “Do I make a good enough model or do you want a redo?”

ARIEL/KIMBERLY:

Kimberly couldn't help but giggle at Huey’s reaction. “Good job,” She said, before letting him pull her away and over to the camera to take a look. And she had been right. “We look great!”

Well, him and Ariel. But still her, but - it wasn’t. It was weird to imagine if he or her would keep that photo after she had...whatever. Another thing that was weird to think about. This whole thing was. Ner in her wildest dreams would she think she’d be here. Even in Swynlake.

“You did really good. Come on! Lets hit the floor!” She said, bouncing a little with excitement as she pulled him off in another direction. “I don’t know this song, but I get the vibe it’s going for.”

HUEY:

He wasn’t sure why he was so uplifted by her approval, but he was. When he’d first picked her up from Ariel’s house, he’d wondered if the entire night would be him making the wrong move and her taking a swipe at him for it, which he could’ve put up with, but… well, neither of them would’ve enjoyed the night, would they? This was much better. Apparently all it took was some boppy pop music and a half-decent photo backdrop for them to warm up a bit.

Huey laughed as he was pulled towards the dance floor. Dancing was not in any way his strength, but he had the spirit. “It’s a good song.” He agreed, trying his best to move to the rhythm and not take someone’s eye out.

Before they had been there too long, though, someone bumped into him, and then stumbled past, just managing to stand on the back of Kimberly’s dress.

“Woah!” JJ cried, looking at the pair. “Sorry!”

ARIEL/KIMBERLY:

Kimberly yelped in surprise, causing a couple heads to turn, and she whipped around to face the culprit. Of course, she had no idea who this was. But she was already fired up from their earlier interaction and wouldn’t think twice about tearing into this new victim.

“Watch where you’re going next time!” She huffed, looking down to her dress with pity. Then back up at the teen again. Then back at Huey, as if catching herself just in time to ask if she was going too far.

And by his expression - and Ariel’s continued raging inside - she realized she had.

So, she pursed her lips, tensed up, then sighed and looked back to him. “I mean - sorry. It’s my sister’s...You know? Don’t want it ruined.”

You are terrible at this.

HUEY:

Huey could only blink, surprised, as apparently could Jack Jack, who looked at the would-be Ariel with wide eyes and increasingly red cheeks. Huey didn’t really know the youngest Parr that well, but that was probably a good thing — it probably meant he kept out of trouble, unlike his siblings.

Luckily for them, though, JJ wasn’t wasn’t totally unused to girls shouting at him — the perks of having a sister. If it could be called a perk. He recovered quickly, with a small shake of his head that tousled his curls and brought a small, kinda nervous smile back to his face.

“Right, yeah - lemme make it up to you! Uh…. there’s pizza?” JJ offered. “I will definitely fight the hordes of hungry teenagers to get you a slice. A good slice.”

ARIEL/KIMBERLY:

At that, Kimberly seemed to perk up. It had been so long since she’d had - well, any type of food. And just at the mention of it, Ariel’s tiny body seemed to growl in hunger as well. Perfect timing.

“Actually, that’d be perfect,” She said, smiling sweetly and grabbing his arm. “If you need a weapon, you can take this purse with you as well. I chose it because it seems good to smack people around with.”

Old habits did die hard, she supposed. Plus, she was gettign tired of carrying. Win - win for everyone.

HUEY:

The offer seemed to have gone down well, which was enough to make JJ stop sweating, but not enough for him to feel fully at ease. His impression of Ariel had always been that she was kinda chill, not… whatever was going on here. But hey, he didn’t know her, maybe she contained multitudes. He wasn’t gonna judge. He just took her purse, tucked it under her arm, gave a mock salute, and was on his way.

Huey, however, was absolutely judging, and he glanced around to make sure that most heads had turned back to whatever it was they were doing before her little outburst. He couldn’t blame Kimberly for reacting — that wasn’t her dress, and it was a nice dress, so someone stepping on it was definitely cause for concern — but still. Ariel wouldn’t have reacted like that. Ashlé suspecting was one thing (she had probably already forgotten about them both by now, seeing as to her they were ants, and she was a sadistic kid with a magnifying glass), but others might not. They needed to keep on the down low as much as possible.

And he had been so busy thinking, and worrying, he didn’t notice the other two had started moving through the crowd. “Hey, wait up!”

It was easy enough to follow them. JJ carved a path through the crowd with his free elbow and the purse, the two of which seemed like a pretty solid combination. Huey managed to get past just as people started mingling together again, trailing them all the way to the pizza table.

“Look out, coming through, hungry lady here, c’mon,” JJ battered his way to the front, earning a few disgruntled mutterings as he went, and gestured to the cardboard pizza boxes littering the table. “M’lady.”

ARIEL/KIMBERLY:

Kimberly found it hard not to giggle at this newcomier’s antics. Was he a little sloppy and clumsy? Yes, but at least he had good intentions. Unlike the girl. So, she held up the end of her dress and followed along, smiling all the while.

She threw that smile back at Huey before turning back to the pizza.”Thank you, good sir. I think we’re even now,” She said as she carefully grabbed her and Huey a slice on a paper plate.

“Uh, JJ?” A voice came, and Kimberly turned to see a small Chinese girl looking at them all curiously. Blinking, Su looked between them, but kept looking back at her suspiciously. “Hey...you guys in a rush or something?”

HUEY:

Jack Jack gave a miniature bow, making sure to nab a piece of pizza for himself before the crowds descended on them once again. Honestly, he thought he was gonna have to get himself a one of those purses, cause Ariel was right: it was very good for whacking people with. He’d never have to wait in line for anything ever again with one of those things.

To save from being jostled away from the table, Huey stepped up behind Kimberly, looking over her shoulder. He didn’t know why seeing a slice there for him too made him smile; it was just the polite thing to do. Although, Kimberly had proven if there was one thing she wasn’t, it was polite. So. Huey was gonna choose to take this one as another sign that she was warming up to him.

He was so distracted by that slice of pizza that he didn’t notice Su until he saw Kimberly’s head move. He only really knew Su as Mei’s sister, ot as her own person, which sure was a little weird, but he assumed, if she was anything like Mei, that she was nice. She certainly seemed it.

“For pizza,” JJ answered, and Huey reached around Kimberly, grabbing a box with a few slices left inside. He handed it to the younger boy, who held it out to Su. “Payback for standing on Ariel’s dress. I got her, and now you, the best pizza Swynlake Secondary has to offer.”

ARIEL/KIMBERLY:

Kimberly eyed the young girl back, then looked to Huey and JJ. “Yeah - he’s lucky I’m so merciful tonight,” She joked, laughing and waving off the odd air that came over them. “Anyway - JJ, you and Su can go dance or eat pizza. I think me and Huey are going to have some time alone, you know?”

She wrapped an arm around Huey’s thin waist, smiling sweetly at the two then up at her not but Ariel’s boyfriend. Still, Su stood there, hesitant for a moment, then looked back to JJ. “Okay...what kind do they have?”

And with that, Kimberly took the distraction to usher Huey away, giggling a little as she did so.

HUEY:

Huey wasn’t sure entirely why, but he blushed at that.

Maybe it was the arm around his waist, which was technically Ariel’s but also very much not Ariel’s right now, or maybe it was the little look Jack Jack gave them, the glance between the two of them and the small nod before he turned around to Su to play waiter (literally, he was doing a little mock bow again). But either way, Huey was glad it was kind of dark in there as he was pushed back towards the crowd, leaving the pizza table behind.

The night after that seemed to go in kind of a blur. People getting thrown into punch bowls, prom king and queen, and the drama that had followed (there was always some kind of drama; prom was just like that), all of which Huey was very glad to not be a part of. When the dancing had resumed after Nemo had… yeah. Huey wasn’t thinking about it. He had just been grateful to get back to what had otherwise been a pretty good night — Kimberly was definitely a better dancer than him, but he didn’t even care.

With the night wearing on, the music was starting to slow down a little. Huey didn’t even know what the song was, to be honest, but he put his hands on Kimberly’s waist and swayed along to it, just a little off beat.

“Y’know,” He paused, wondering if he should tell this story. It wasn’t like Ariel wasn’t there. But still. It was a nice story. “This is actually how me and Ariel got together. It was a wedding, not a prom. But we were dancing, and then the song went all slow, and it seemed kinda awkward to stop dancing… and then she kissed me.” He paused, and then added, his tone a little softer. “She’s a lot braver than me. Which is good, ‘cause you could’ve been in my body, and I don’t think that’d work for anyone.”

ARIEL/KIMBERLY:

Despite the circumstances, Kimberly was having a nice time. Especially once she settled into the festivities. She would dare say Ariel was also having a good time, deep down. Literally, wherever she was and how possession worked.

And Huey wasn’t a bad partner for the evening either. He was kind. And went out of the way to make sure she was okay. And comfortable. She appreciated that.

With her arms looped around his shoulders, swaying comfortably with the music, she smiled up at him at that. “That sounds about how I’d see it going,” She chuckled, patting at his chest. “Oh really? I was about your height, you know? But I would have definitely made you wear heels to this, whether you liked it or not.”

Another little laugh, shaking her head. This was - nice. On the verge of perfect. But the faces were all wrong. But she could pretend...if not just for a moment…

“This has been really nice...actually.”

HUEY:

Kimberly really hadn't been bad company either. He might’ve had a better time with Ariel, cause there wouldn’t have been that weird awkward period right at the start there, but it had been good. Nice. And he could do it all again with Ariel next year, if they wanted to.

“Ah, and you would’ve ruined my cool guy reputation.” His nose scrunched as his laughed, ‘cause the idea of him really was laughable. He could barely walk in a straight line as it was, he couldn’t imagine trying to walk in heels. Though that would have been her problem, not his.

He was glad that she was having a nice time, though. That she’d enjoyed it. Being trusted with someone’s prom, when they were… she only had the one night, is what he was saying, and he had worried about it being his responsibility. It was nice that he could give her that.

“I’ll try not to be offended by the actually.” He teased, before glancing around the room. “We could call it a night, if you want? Before anymore calamities.”

ARIEL/KIMBERLY:

“Pfft - whatever,” Kimberly chuckled.

At his suggestion, she looked around. After the crowing ceremony drama, about half of the attendees seemed to clear out, so there was so much more room for them on the dance floor. But, if that was only a taste of what Swynlake’s modern secondary could offer her for drama, getting out sounded like a good option while she still could. They’d managed to stay out of trouble so far, may as well not push it

“Yeah...it’s probably best that we go now before a second wave of drama comes,” She hums, pulling away for a moment then grabbing his hand and leading him out the gym doors and into the hall of lockers. “What now, lover boy?”

Though, she knew. It was time for her to go. Even though a part of her didn’t want to go. Was still in denial that she had long since passed. And this wasn’t her body.

“One more walk though, for old time sake?”

HUEY:

He didn’t really want to say it, but he saw the recognition flash in her eyes. He didn’t know how any of this worked, but… he knew it was time for her to go. Into the light, to the other side, whatever it actually was. Her soul had been tied to the Grail, and now to Ariel, when she had drank from it. Maybe if anyone else had found it, Kimberly really would have achieved eternal life. Or at least, she would’ve passed on to the next person, and the next person after that, hopping bodies for eternity.

But they’d given her what she wanted. One last night, one last prom. That would be enough for her to move on, wouldn’t it?

“Sure.” He nodded, giving her hand a squeeze. “I know a spot.”

Town was almost eerily quiet, what with most people either being at the secondary school or the adult prom, but it was nice. It made Huey feel a little better about hauling the Grail around with him; it was just the two of them.

Well. The three of them.

It was equally quiet by the lake. It might’ve been creepy on any other night, the full moon reflecting on the deep, dark water, but it felt sort of on theme for prom, actually.

“Well… was prom everything you expected it to be?”

ARIEL/KIMBERLY:

The lake was still as beautiful as she remembered. Almost like it hadn’t changed since her time alive and young and free. The full moon looming over them - it was perfect. It made tears sting at her eyes. Her town....she loved it.

In life, she wasn’t too big on Magicks. She’d thought them dangerous. Scary. David had taught her differently. And because of him, she wanted to do better. Which is how she got mixed up with the Grail - and here she was now.

“It...it was something else,” She admitted, but smiled sadly at him. “I had a great time, Huey.” Taking a breath though, putting back on a firm face, she nodded and wiped at her eyes. “Listen to me - you need to get that Grail somewhere safe. It can’t - this can’t happen to anyone again, alright?”

HUEY:

Huey nodded earnestly, knowing that they were going to do their best. Turning it in to Town Hall would be so simple, but what then? What if someone got their hands on it, someone who decided to use it for evil? He knew they were in danger by holding on to it, but he also knew that it was better that they did, that it was safe with them, for now. It needed to be taken back to the forest, to be buried deep down somewhere, somewhere where no one would ever find it again.

“We will.” He assured her, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. “Ariel and I, we’ll make sure that it gets into the right hands. We won’t let it go until we’re positive. And we’ll make sure, wherever it goes, it’s far away from anyone else.”

Huey could only imagine how the Grail could be used to hurt someone. To ensnare them like Kimberly had been, or to threaten, or… well, he could imagine a lot of things, and none of them pleasant. “I promise. We’ll take care of it.”

ARIEL/KIMBERLY:

Huey took her hand, and Kimberly felt a sudden calm come over her with the squeeze of her hand. She took a breath, sharp and deep then looked him in the eye and smiled. “I trust that you will. Good luck,” She said, her voice shaking a little. “And thank you.”

And with that, Ariel’s bright blues came back. A silence overtaken her and she blinked once. Twice. Then looked to Huey. “She’s...gone.” Her hand, now once fully her own again, squeezed his tightly and smiled just the slightest. “She’s okay though…”

HUEY:

Huey was sad to see Kimberly go, but he had to admit — he was glad to see Ariel return, brown melting away into blue again. He didn’t know what to say, at first. He didn’t know if she was upset at having someone else control her body, or angry, maybe. She really did have the right to be either of those, given the circumstances. All Huey did was wait for her to say something, smiling back at her when she smiled at him, even if it was barely there.

“And you?” He asked, browns furrowing a little. He was glad to know Kimberly was okay, wherever she was now, but Ariel had been a passenger for a while now. Who knew what that could do to a person? Would it have any side effects? “How do you feel?”

ARIEL:

Ariel laughed awkwardly at that. Honestly, she didn’t know. It was weird now having control. Suddenly the weight of life crashing down on her. Was it...weird to feel a little sad she was back in control? All the responsibilities of her life coming back to her?

Probably. And she really didn’t want to voice it. If anything, she was tired.

So she nodded, leaning forward until she was fully leaning against him, head resting on his shoulder and wrapping her arm that wasn’t holding his hand around him. “Yeah...I’m fine just...super tired. It’s been a long night.” She turned her head up to look at him though. “I missed you though…”

HUEY:

Huey wasn’t surprised that she was tired. He could imagine that being possessed was pretty stressful, even if the ghost you were possessed by was just a girl from the 80s who wanted to go to prom.

He leaned his head against Ariel’s, face smushed into her hair, and wrapped his free arm around her in turn. He didn’t know if Ariel was telling the truth about Kimberly being at peace, and he still had the Holy Grail in his backpack, and yet this moment was the most calm he’d felt all night. The quiet and the chill to the night air… it was calming. Comforting. And Ariel was back — that was a lot of it, too.

He straightened up when she tilted her head, dipping his chin so he could look at her. “I missed you too.” He told her, and he meant it, too. He wished they could’ve had prom, but there was always next year, he supposed. “I’m really glad you’re back.”

ARIEL:

Ariel smiled up at him. Why were her eyes all wet? Uh, she felt so dumb and sappy but also didn’t care. She slowly reached up, pulling her hand from his and set it on his cheek before leaning up just a little more to press a kiss to his lips.

“Sorry I...pulled an Ariel,” She tried to joke. “I don’t know what happened there…”

Aside from the odd pull of the Grail. She wondered if that’s what happened to Kimberly. She figured though she’d never know that. And with luck, they never would. Because while she wanted to just live in this soft, rose tinted moment against Huey, the weight of what just happened clung to her tired body as well.

“But we have to get rid of that thing...get it somewhere safe,” She said. “No one should have to go through what Kimberly did again…”

HUEY:

The kiss was soft, and sweet, and enough to distract him from the many, many reasons he had to worry right now. He kind of just wanted to stay like that, in the cloud of her perfume, with the warmth of her body against his, not worrying.

But she was right. They needed to do something.

“You’re right.” He agreed, pulling back just a little, enough to meet her eyes properly. “I’ll keep hold of it, tonight.” He assured her. It was still in his backpack, as it had been all night, and it would stay there. He’d take it home, and hide the bag somewhere safe for the time being. At least they were out in the farmlands, where it was quiet, where he or his Uncle or on of his brothers would notice the footfall of strangers.

“And I’ll think about who we can give it to. I’ll do some research.” That wouldn’t be difficult; he loved doing research. “There has to be someone who can take it back out to the forest and hide it.”

#( t; one last night )#huriel #i miss kimberly already #huey be like: i cant help but notice that i sTILL HAVE THIS GRAIL #anyhow #sad sweet teens

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cross-roads-blues · 5 years

Text

Leaving You Is Loving You

This is my late submission for @huntersociopathavenger‘s writing challenge and I’m so sorry this is late and I really hope you like it! <3 <3 <3

Prompt: “If you leave now, you lose everything!”

Warnings: Angst, Torture, Hurt

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Break Ups

Pairing: Dean/Castiel

Read on AO3 here.

[Read the whole thing under the cut!]

Castiel groaned as one of the angels flung him against the wall. He promptly sliced the attacker with his angel blade, not doing much harm, however and proceeded to punch the angel in the face, breaking free from his bond. Just as he was making his final break out of the tavern, which inadvertently became a battlefield between him and a faction of rogue angels with apparent orders to capture him, somebody hit him bluntly on the back of his head and somebody’s foreign grace encompassed his mind, sedating him. He blacked out, even before his body hit the floor.

He woke up because of pain and because of a rough female voice calling out his name. The angel blinked and slowly opened his eyes adjusting to the light. After a quick look around the room the angel concluded that he was held in some sort of basement with grey featureless walls and floor and something looking suspiciously like a blood stain in one of the corners. In front of him was a metal door with scratched surface and on his right was a big, what he assumed to be window, which was now covered by dirty used-to-be-beige blinds. The angel himself was chained to a chair with iron chains with angel-binding sigils etched into them. Castiel sighed. Captured, yet again.

“Castiel!” Rough female voice returned and now Castiel was sure that it wasn’t a hallucination. Someone very real was standing behind him and calling out his name.

“That… that would be me,” coughed out angel.

“I damn well know it’s you.” Castiel heard high heels clacking on the floor behind him and soon a woman walked out from behind him. She was wearing a grey striped pant suit with slightly unbuttoned blue shirt and she appeared to be in her mid fifties.

“My name is Dina,” she said as she knelt beside him to be at eye level with him.

“Angel, I presume,” noted Castiel.

Dina nodded. “A pathetic one, I should say. Weakened, with no wings, stranded on Earth. And who’s fault is that?” With a hoarse laugh, Dina stared into Castiel’s eyes.

The angel furrowed his brows and exhaled irritatedly. “Is this about the Fall? That was a year ago and I think we established that I didn’t make the angels fall! And Heaven is open, by the way!”

Dina laughed again and her laugh sounded rotten. “What’s up there isn’t Heaven. It’s a miserable copy of what was before the Fall.”

“Before the Fall there was a dictatorship!” grunted Castiel, tugging at his restraints.

“And that's how it was meant to be!” through her teeth spit out Dina, every word fizzling with venom.

“Well, what do you want from me now?” yelled Castiel.

Dina narrowed her eyes. “I want the names of every angel and their vessel that is running things up there. I want to know my targets and I’m sure you know all of them. And I want to know where you base your operations on Earth.”

“And why would you think I will just give it to you?” hissed the angel, furrowing his brows.

Dima gave him a weird look and smiled slyly. “I have ways to make you comply.”

“What do you-“

With one quick movement Dina opened the blinds on the window, revealing a window behind it.

“Oh no…” gasped the angel as he perceived what was behind the window. Behind the window was Dean, tied to a chair, just as he was, but Dean was already covered in blood and bruises. He was tortured, with horror realised the angel. Castiel gagged.

“I presume you two know each other,” in a sweet song-alike tone murmured Dina just above his right ear.

“You…” Castiel found himself speechless. Everything inside him screamed. Dean was hurt because of him. For the first time in years he found it hard to breathe.

“He has nothing to do with this.” Castiel saw red.

Dina laughed. “Why of course he does. I need your precious boyfriend-” Dina raised her eyebrows, noticing Castiel’s confused face “-oh yes, everyone’s aware of your connection - to make you talk.”

Castiel squinted his eyes shut for a second. “Dina, don’t do this, we can work it out-”

He was interrupted by the sight of another angel entering the room with Dean and slicing his cheek with knife. The angel moved so fast that Castiel didn’t even have time to say anything. He didn’t hear Dean’s cry of pain, but he definitely saw Dean’s brows shoot up and hunter’s eys squinting shut, as Dean flinched. Castiel wondered whether the angels even told Dean why they were hurting him… or whether he will have to tell Dean later once all of this was over.

“And you know what, Castiel? He knows exactly that we’re cutting, stabbing and punching him because his boyfriend wouldn’t spill the tea,” off-handedly mentioned Dina from somewhere behind Castiel.

“Let him go. You have me,” grunted Castiel.

“I have the box, to which he-” Dina gestured towards the window, “-is the key. It is known that you will do anything for the Winchesters, especially for the older one. Such a cute couple you are. So what it’s gonna be, Castiel? We got a deal?”

Castiel was on the verge of spilling all information just for Dean to be let go. And he realised that it was incredibly egotistical and selfish of him, to sacrifice everything for one person, but he couldn’t have it any other way. It was Dean.

And then something almost magical happened. Just as Castiel opened his mouth to agree to Dina’s demands, he felt a small crack in the right handcuff. Acting in a split second, Castiel pulled his hand up and to his right, breaking free of the bond, taking Dina by surprise. He dodged her attack with a blade and flung her against the wall, and considered charging on her but then realised that the angels might kill Dean if he kills Dina so instead he leapt up, crashing through the window into the room Dean was kept in, slamming the angel guarding him into the door, stealing his blade and effectively killing him with it. He then rushed to barely conscious Dean, hurriedly untying his wrists before Dina regained her strength.

“Cas?” mumbled Dean, trying to get up.

“I’m so sorry, baby, “ muttered Castiel, scooping Dean up and rushing out of the room onto the staircase. An angel charged in on them, but Castiel quickly deflected his attack and stabbed him with an angel blade. Castiel ran as fast as he possibly could up the stairs, holding Dean’s unconscious body in his hands. Slamming on the metal door at the end of the staircase, Castiel found himself in the dark alley behind a towering building. Castiel glanced back and saw Dina two more angels rushing after him. Being careful not to accidentally hurt Dean, he cradled him closer and decided to make a run for it. Around the building there was an old pick-up truck, and Castiel, without much hesitation, rushed towards it. Castiel thanked all deities and cosmic beings that it wasn’t locked, put Dean into the backseat, taking off his trenchcoat in the process and stuffing it under Dean’s head and himself got into the driver’s seat. Putting what Dean had taught him to use, he hot wired the truck with shaking hands and slammed the gas pedal. The angel breathing became rapid and shallow as he tried to steady out his hands on the wheel. Making a sharp turn, he drove the truck out of the alley, as the wheels gave out a cringy screeching sound and the saloon filled with smell of burnt rubber. Castiel clenched his jaw and hit the gas pedal once more, as he drove the track through the crammed roads, fenced by askew buildings from both sides, towards the main road. He didn’t stop until he was at least 10 kilometres away. He pulled over, glancing back to make sure he wasn’t being followed and rushed outside and opened the backseat. Dean was still unconscious, so Castiel carefully placed a hand on his forehead, brushing outside unruly dirty blonde hair and commanded his grace to flow through and fix the damage done to the hunter. After a couple of seconds, Dean’s eyes flung open, as he inhaled deeply and woke up.

“Cas?” he said, grabbing onto the angel for support and sitting up.

“Yeah,” shortly said the angel, helping Dean to get into the passenger’s seat of the truck.

“Son of a bitch grabbed me from back entrance of the diner,” grumbled the hunter, as Castiel got into the driver’s seat. “Thanks for healing me up by the way.”

“Dean,” tiredly said Castiel, turning to face the hunter, “I’m so sorry. They did such horrible things to you and all because of me.”

The hunter gave Castiel an exhausted smile. “It’s fine. I’ve been through worse. Plus, you saved me. That’s what matters.”

Castiel lingered for a second, then pulled Dean closer and wrapped his arms around the hunter, leaning in for a kiss. Dean’s lips still tasted a bit metallic from blood, but Castiel didn’t care. He was just glad Dean was okay and that Dean was still even willing to be with him after all the torture he endured because of Castiel. And in that moment, it hit him. Castiel realised what exactly he had to do in order to keep his hunter safe.

“This was never going to work,” mused Castiel, sitting alone in a featureless 2004 Toyota Corolla. His Lincoln was very recognisable and Castiel decided that would like to go unnoticed for this. He stared at the nameless motel in front of him with nothing to distinguish it from other building other than a neon red sign. It’s been two days since Dean’s abduction and near death and the angel spent those two days in conflicted thoughts. He concluded that there was no other way and he had to do what he had to do. That’s why in that morning he was sitting in front of that motel, about to make perhaps the hardest choice in his life.

A door of the motel flung open, tearing angel out of his train of thought and he saw Sam leaving in his tracksuit for his usual 5 am jog. Rising sun was playing on the windows of the motel, as the younger Winchester made his way down to the street, not noticing Castiel. The brothers were on a case, so Sam shifted in his usual case-routine: after his jog, he would probably go the closest food joint, grab a salat for him and a sandwich for Dean, and surf the web for research on the case until Dean would show up at the diner. Which means Castiel had an hour at most alone with Dean.

Castiel waited for Sam to leave the parking of motel and got out of the car. He exhaled and on shaking legs walked towards the door of the motel. He hesitated at the door for a brief moment, but proceeded to knock twice. Better now than later.

“Who’s there?” hoarsely and rather angrily replied the older Winchester from behind the door.

“It’s me. Castiel,” replied the angel.

The door creaked as the hunter with a sleepy glare stuck his head outside. “What are you doing here, sugar? I thought you were still sorting it out in Heaven.”

“I uh- We need to talk.” Castiel made his way inside motel room, noting that the flannel the hunter threw on to open the door was still unbuttoned.

“Of course, Cas, what about?” Dean beckoned the angel in, wrapping his arms around him in the process and kissing the angel on the cheek. Castiel felt his heart plunge, because he knew what he had to do and that made every cell inside him ache.

“It’s about our relationship.”

Dean furrowed his brows, casting a concerned look at the angel, as he headed to the night table and grabbed a half finished bottle of beer from there. “What is it, buttercup?” he said, settling on the bed.

The angel inhaled deeply and decided that it was for the better good. “Dean… What was between us… That could never work. We could never work.”

Dean froze. “What do you mean? Is it- is it something I did?”

Castiel swallowed a traitorous lump in his throat. “No, Dean-”

“Then I wasn’t enough for you? Is that it, Cas? I wasn’t good enough?” The hunter stood up and started pacing in circles around the motel room.

Castiel caught him by his shoulders and pulled him close. “You were more than enough, but-”

“I’m not your type?” Dean shook his head in confusion, furrowing his brows. He exhaled slowly, collecting himself and closing his eyes for a second. “Where did I go wrong?”

Castiel bit his lip. Everything inside him hurt. Dean’s eyes were becoming wet and seeing the hunter cry over something that wasn’t his fault, but was Castiel’s made the angel want to disappear. “You didn’t,” said Castiel, finally managing to get the words back under control.

“Then why are you saying that you have to go?” Dean tried to wrap his arms around the angel, but the latter one pulled away.

“Because look where it got us!” Castiel abstractly waved his hand around the room.

“I don’t understand-”

“You were nearly killed because of me! Our- our relationship, our bond that we share, it’s a- it’s a, a…” The angel stuttered, looking for the right way to put it, but Dean was quicker than him to catch on to his train of thought.

“A liability.” The word sounded like a stone thrown at a glass wall, shuttering it in pieces. “I’m a liability.”

Castiel’s lips narrowed into a thin straight line. “They were using you as leverage.”

“And you’re scared that next time we won’t be so lucky and we wouldn’t break out and you would actually have to give them what they want in exchange for me?” It was Dean now who stepped back.

“No-” The hunter didn’t let Castiel finish.

“And you can’t have that, can you?”

“That’s not what I meant-” tried to intervene the angel, but Dean wasn’t listening, as he was back to pacing around the room.

“Hell, it makes sense,” he mumbled on his way, not stopping moving for a second, “You’re fighting a friggin’ civil war, and giving out info every time I get captured is- is- is bad strategy!”

“It’s not what I meant!” yelled angel to interrupt Dean, who stopped dead in his tracks and gave the angel a weird long look.

“Then what did you mean?” he asked in a contemplative, alienated way, that was so unusual for Castiel to hear.

“You could get killed,” quietly said the angel, sitting down on the bed.

“Because they would fail to get what they want from you and they would actually proceed to their threats?” Dean’s forehead covered with tiny droplets of sweat, as he ran his hand through his hair.

“You’re twisting my words again, Dean. They might kill you just to… prove a point to me, without even asking for anything in return.”

“Is that so?” Dean collapsed in the chair, opposite Castiel.

Castiel furrowed his brows with a tilt of his head. “Of course it is!” he said in a raised tone, standing up. “I would give everything-” he emphasized this word with a rise in his voice- “for you. There isn’t a thing that I wouldn’t do for you.”

Dean blinked slowly, processing angel’s words. Then, he slowly rose from the chair and stood next to Castiel, stood painfully close, stood as if preparing for the kiss, which wouldn’t happen now, thanks to Castiel.

“Then stay. Stay for me. Don’t go,” finally said the hunter, with tears in his eyes and Castiel felt his grace rushing painfully through every inch of his body, feeling his body ache with pain that was non-existent, but it didn’t make it feel any less real.

“I can’t do that, Dean,” softly said the angel, as he started walking towards the door. “They would never stop coming for you,” he said on his way out of the motel room.

The angel opened the door, letting a large current of wind flowing into the room, sending papers flying all around the room. He didn’t notice that the weather worsened during his talk with Dean, that it was raining outside. Growls of thunder filled the room, as Castiel’s trenchcoat flew behind him almost like a cape.

“If you leave now, you lose everything!” yelled Dean, trying to be louder than the thunder. “You hear me, Cas? Everything!”

The angiel tilted his head and looked back just for a second, trying to etch Dean’s face into his memory. “I’m sorry.”

The door shut behind the angel.

Outside was storming. Castiel spied Sam returning early from his jog and hurried to the car. Sam already noticed him, but the angel was faster. He started his car and drove by completely confused Sam, who shouted something at him, but Castiel ignored him.

He didn’t stop until he was 50 miles away from that motel. He nearly got into an accident at least twice during his voyage. Stopping his car in the middle of nowhere, Castiel got out of the vehicle and sat on the hood of the car, not paying any attention to heavy rain. And in that moment he discovered something new about his species, something he was unaware for at least billions of years. He didn’t know angels could cry.

Dean sighed, inhaled and stepped down from the porch of the bar he spent last hour in. Sam was in the motel, doing research on the case they’d been working for the last 2 days and Dean was intending to join him, maybe after going for a quick drive. It was raining, and even though Dean usually liked rain, it helped him think, he had grown to hate it as it was reminding him of that early morning 5 months ago. Dean cringed at the memory and headed towards the Impala, kicking up gravel on the ground. He was just reaching out for the key in his pocket, when somebody hit him with something heavy on the side of his head, effectively knocking him out.

Dean came to his senses in a grey featureless and familiar basement. If his head wasn’t pounding like a thousand devils had partied in there, he might have even rolled his eyes.

“You guys are dicks,” he shouted out to nobody in particular.

He was partially angry at himself, getting captured twice by the same captors felt embarrassing. And the other half of him that wasn’t screaming with frustration was screaming with fear, with anticipation of pain. Pain he didn’t deserve, pain he could do nothing to stop.

Abruptly he heard the squeaky sound of the door behind him opening. Slow clicking of heels on the stone floor did nothing to relieve Dean’s fear and aggravated his anger. He remembered too damn well who was the owner of the footsteps.

“Hey Dean,” said Dina in a soft voice as she appeared from his right and knelt beside him. In her hand she was holding an angel blade and in her other hand to Dean’s horror there was a small hammer. Behind her two angels in suits appeared, moving silently like snakes. Dean felt himself shiver.

“I don’t know if you got the memo, but I haven’t seen Cas for 5 months now,” said Dean, trying to make his voice sound the usual level of snarkiness and confidence, despite growing panic in his chest.

Dina smirked. “I haven’t seen him in 5 months either. But it’s not him that is the reason for this.”

She stood up and slowly started to circle around Dean, the sound of her high heels echoing around the room. “At this point I just wanna murder you for purely selfish reasons. I’m tired of chasing cold leads. Might as well get me some entertainment in between. Plus your death might attract our wayward angel,” she murmured as she slid her finger across the edge of the angel blade.

Dean felt everything inside him squirm. It wasn’t the first time Dean was threatened with death, but this time, the bad guy seemed done with monologuing way before someone could swoop in and fix the situation. Abruptly the floor beneath Dean’s fit trembled. Dean, torn out of his thoughts cast a concerned look at Dina. “Is this you or should we be worried?”

Dina furrowed her brows but didn’t reply, just motioned to two other angels to check it out. As they headed towards the door, a force threw them back into the walls, as the door flung open. Light bulbs burst into millions pieces, as the entire room went into darkness and shook one more time with a growl of thunder. Dean heard a slight clinking of metal, as a small ray of light reflected on Dina’s now bared angel blade. The room was deadly silent.

“Show yourself!” yelled Dina. “No need to fight in the dark like cowards!”

“Very well,” said a quiet hoarse voice, a voice that Dean would recognise from millions.

As the lightning lit up the room, a pair of magnificent - damaged, but magnificent - wings appeared on the wall, as Castiel emerged from the darkness. His eyes were glowing blue, so bright that it was almost blinding and his trenchcoat was flying behind him in the wind.

“Make a move and I’ll kill him,” hissed Dina, holding a blade to Dean’s throat. Dean felt the coldness of metal just below his chin as he tried to lean back away from the blade.

“No, you won’t,” calmly said Castiel.

Dean felt the blade clatter into his lap, as Dina lit up from inside out and a soft sound of a blade entering flesh was heard. As the corpse of the angel collapsed on the floor, Sam, who apparently was the one to kill Dina, rushed to Dean from behind and started untying his wrists. “God, Dean, are you okay?” Sam hurriedly freed Dean’ right wrist

“Yeah, she didn’t even have time to touch me, you guys came on time,” grunted Dean, as he with Sam’s assistance freed his left wrist.

“Phew, thank god.” Sam helped Dean up and they started to head towards the door, when Dean stopped dead in his tracks.

“Where is Cas? How did he leave so quickly?” muttered Dean, gazing around the room.

Sam hesitated with the answer. “When you didn’t show up at the motel til morning, I called him to help me get you back. He agreed, but said that he wouldn’t stick around afterwards.”

Dean rubbed the nape of his neck. “Gone with the wind,” muttered the older hunter.

Sam furrowed his brows and gave his brother a concerned look. “Dean-”

“Tsh! Don’t say it, I’m fine. Let’s just go,” sharply said Dean and opened the door, pushing aside the corpses of angels with burnt-out eyes.

Dean woke up in the middle of the night. No wonder, he slept terribly after he was the only one in the bed. It took him around an hour to fall asleep after he and Sam returned to the motel near which Dean was kidnapped. They had taken two separate rooms on that trip due to having some… disagreements on their way there, so there was nothing and nobody to distract him and that fueled his insomnia. Dean sighed and stared at the ceiling, when he noticed something with side-vision. A figure, a painfully familiar figure, was sitting on the bedside near him.

“Cas?” sleepily grunted the hunter, recognising the blue eyes that shone bright even in the dark. “You came back.” The angel flinched, taken by surprise by Dean’s awakening.

“I wasn’t- I was just-” Castiel hurriedly got up and headed outside of the door.

“Wait,” called out Dean behind him. “Don’t go just yet.”

Castiel stopped. His shoulders flinched, as he hesitantly turned around and slowly walked back, perching himself up on the very edge of the bed. “Yes?” asked the angel in a tired tone, with a slight voice break in the middle.

‘You were right, they did try to kill me,” said Dean, not knowing how to start the talk, but not willing to let the angel go just yet. He wasn’t angry at the Castiel, deep inside he knew exactly what the angel meant when he said that it was dangerous for them to be together. And the angel did turn out to be right after all.

“I’m usually right.” Castiel avoided eye contact with the hunter. Nothing was heard in the room for the next couple of seconds.

“And you came and saved me,” continued his sentence Dean. His mind became clearer and clearer, sleep fading away.

“Well, me and Sam came and saved you. It wasn’t just me-,” said Castiel, furrowing his brows and slightly narrowing his eyes.

“Not my point,” cut him off Dean. “Cas,-” Dean grabbed the angel’s hand, making the latter one focus his attention on him, “-this is exactly what I was talking about. Any connections in this line of the work are a risk and we are liabilities for each other and the bad guys know it, but we get over it every time. And Cas, I need you.” Dean’s green eyes became slightly wet. “I need you so frigging much. These last 5 months been hell without you. And I can’t live without you. And you know what, Cas? I’d die for you any day. Because I know you’d do the same. So if you want to go, go. But just know that, what I went through today? I’ll go through worse for you.”

Castiel exhaled loudly and sat on the bed near Dean. “Dean-”

“No, Cas, I don’t wanna hear it. I don’t wanna hear the “they’ll never stop coming for you” speech again. Because I damn well know they won’t. But I’ll choose life with you over anything. So if you decide to come back, I’ll welcome you.”

Castiel hesitatingly looked directly at Dean for the first time since the hunter woke up. “I just want you to be safe, Dean.”

“And I just want to be with you. And I am not going to let you walk away another time,” shortly said Dean and patted the bed near him. “Come here.”

Castiel’s eyes lit up. “Dean, I’m so sorry. This should’ve been your choice-”

“Shh,” stopped him Dean, “Don’t apologise. You did what you did for me. Now come here.”

Castiel lingered for a second but then with a smile took off his trench coat, pants and blazer, throwing them in the corner of the room and climbed under the sheets with Dean.

“Thank you,” murmured Castiel as he threw his arm over Dean, feeling familiar warmness beside him. Maybe their relationship was dangerous. Maybe they were liabilities for each other. Maybe they were constantly risking anything. But in that moment Castiel felt like he was the happiest angel to ever exist in any dimension. And he made a silent vow to himself to not throw it all away.

#hunters1stwritingchallenge #deancas #casdean #destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #deancas fic #casdean fic #deancas fanfic #casdean fanfic #crossroads content

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distressindisguise · 6 years

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Ranking My Jarchie Fanfiction

I’ve been in the Riverdale fandom for a long time so I’m going to start this off by stating that in the very beginning, the main ships were Beronica and Jarchie. Crazy right? Bughead wasn’t really a thing. Now, there are barely any Jarchie scenes in the show but I still write Jarchie fanfiction on wattpad here.

I love writing reviews and just writing period and after re-reading my fanfiction for the first time in months, I’ve decided to write a brutally honest review. So let’s begin.

5. Meadow Of Flowers

For some reason, this is one of my most popular fics. Though it always seems that way right? The things you write that you’re most proud of never get the recognition you think it deserves, but the things that have been slapped together hastily seem to do very well. A. K. A the fanfiction writer’s curse.

Here are the good things: the idea and the plot started off great. It’s a cute, clear concept. It’s not complex or hard to comprehend. The prep draws flowers on the goths notebook, the goth surprises the prep by drawing more flowers, and the prep tries to get to know him so he creates a tumblr and messages him anonymously. The text messages sent between the two are funny. It’s a good laugh, something to snicker at when you’re bored and have free time. The characters are really interesting. Archie has an infectious attitude and watching Jughead try to deal with it is equally as entertaining.

Here are the bad things. The plot loses itself somewhere in the middle. All of a sudden Jughead has an ex girlfriend that comes back in town and his father is the leader of the Mafia or some while crazy crap like that. There becomes too many irrelevant characters. None of the rest of book actually has to do with the main concept, the meadow of flowers drawn on a piece of paper that brought them together. I really don’t know how that concept got so lost. But even still, it garners up tons of reads. For what reason? Probably because of the text messages. Archie’s dirty pick up lines and Jughead’s insertion of memes are probably the only thing that keeps readers coming back.

The writing also extremely lacks. It’s a dialogue based book. There’s not much substance there. It’s literally all quotes. Definitely not my best work. I’d say it’s my worst. I cringe when people tell me they love it so much.

I haven’t updated the book in months and honestly I don’t think I’ve ever going to. If anything, I’ll delete all of the wild chapters and keep the text messages. This fic is the definition of the cringe side of Wattpad and I promise you my other fics are nothing like this trainwreck.

4. Treehouse

Treehouse is my only ongoing fanfiction. It’s probably going to be my last Jarchie fanfic. I’m not sure if it’s my last fanfic on Wattpad though. I’ll have to see. I’m kind of over the Riverdale fandom and the show if I’m being completely honest.

Jughead and Archie spend a summer in the latter’s treehouse getting to know each other, but once they get back to school the story gets twisted into a lot of dirty rumors. Jughead wants to forget what happened, but Archie wants to further their relationship.

Good things: Characterization. Jughead is fem! In this book. He’s bubbly, innocent, and an all around strong character. He’s an activist, a vegan and a super inspiring person. He’s extremely lovable. It’s easy to support and fall in love with his character. I wrote Jelly Bean, his sister, older in this book. She’s also a dynamic character. She has her own issues as well. The book doesn’t just focus on Jarchie, it focuses on Jelly Bean’s problems, Archie’s problems, Betty’s problems, and my OCs problems individually. Their lives all intertwine and that’s another aspect that makes the book great. The writing is good and the storylines are relatable.

Bad things: Because there are so many storylines, the book drags. I’m often left to wonder what the actual plot is. There’s no climax or end goal. It’s more like a look of the lives into each person, which isn’t a bad thing, but it causes the story to feel slow and sometimes meaningless. There are currently 19 chapters written and published, but it feels as if there’s much less because nothing has been accomplished and nothing has been destroyed yet.

Despite that, I do think it’s an entertaining read and in terms of writing, I think it’s easy to follow and easy to love.

3. Circumlocution

My readers like to call this book Hell.

I am usually a fluffy fic writer. My books do tend to have angst, problems that need to be solved that eventually work out, but this is not one of those books.

Jughead and Archie dated in high school until Archie left one day out of the blue. Jughead never got a call, never got an explanation, but was instead left to deal with his miserable life without one of the people who made it bearable. Archie comes back to Riverdale a year later, finds Jughead at a bar, and offers to take him home on a long, awkward, emotional car ride into the unknown.

Good things: the plot is amazing. There’s very few settings, the most used one being the car, so it’s easy to follow. It’s structured, the chapters flashback to a couple of years ago so the reader can piece together what happened to Jughead while Archie was gone and what happened to Archie after he left. The flashbacks give a glance to both sides of the story as the characters stay clueless to the whole truth until the very end. It’s my shortest, most consist fic, numbering in at 25 chapters and a heartfelt epilogue. The writing was done very well, every emotion is felt. The anxiousness, the tension, the hatred, and the hint of affection they both still had toward each other are displayed well. There are subtle clues dropped to allow the reader to guess what happened, and little details start to make sense at the very end.

Bad things: even with that “glowing review” there are some shortcomings I think. I’m also very picky about my own work by the way, so in reality these fics may not be as bad as I’m making them out to be.

Because there’s very few settings, I think sometimes the setting does get lost. I think the car could be described more. I think the mentions of the road could be used. Maybe I’m fussing, but there’s lots of times where there’s just conversation and the reader assumes that it’s in Archie’s truck because that’s where they last were. Still, I think there should be reminders instead of just still dialogue. For instance, how much moving around can you do in a car? The only other locations are pit stops to get food. The rest of the locations are in the flashbacks, which don’t really play a huge part to the story itself.

I also think that maybe the book is too dark at times. One thing that I hate about wattpad, is the number of dark fanfics written by 12 year olds who romanticize topics like depression and self harm. I didn’t romanticize the topics, but they’re there and I tried to be respectful and treat them with the seriousness that needed to be there. There’s physical abuse, substance abuse, self harm, it’s a lot. It’s why my readers call the book hell, because it’s a lot of emotions at once, especially when you grow so attached to two characters and grow to vouch for their relationship to work out in the end.

My favorite part of the fic is the epilogue because it shows someone reaching out, getting help, and trying to get better. Its the right approach.

My book is also called hell because of the ending... but I’m not going to spoil that for you.

I just think that the mood in the fic could be lighter in some aspects. There needs to be more breaks for happy flashbacks, or more light hearted conversation. Sometimes I feel as if the transitions are too quick. Jughead could go from yelling at Archie to slowly easing up when they reminisce about the past, but I think the shift should be more gradual. Still, in terms of plot/structure/and writing, it’s my best fic. Hands down. So why is it at number 3? Let’s see.

2. Nameless

Maybe this is where my bias steps in.

In reality, this would be tied with my number 1 choice because this is one of my favorites, though I don’t think it’s technically better than circumlocution in terms of plot. This is another book that drags on for longer than it’s supposed to.

Nameless didn’t have a name. He was 17 Years Old. He didn’t talk to anybody but his social worker. He didn’t show emotion. He spent his days reading and coming up with names until one felt right, for the boy had amnesia after a terrible accident that separated him from his parents and his old life. Archie comes around, and soon he learns to stop viewing with the world with indifference and hanging onto the past.

Good things: Characterization yet again. I’m very good at characterization. Although the Riverdale characters are not mine, I’m very good at giving them their own unique personalities to fit my plots and ideas. Nameless is obviously Jughead, but his character is so complex. My favorite thing is watching him grow as a person throughout the book. He seriously learns how to love, how to deal with people, and how to accept himself and what he has. Watching his relationship grow with his adoptive parents and his adoptive siblings is just as amazing as watching his relationship grow with Archie. I think that the writing is done well, though there is some things left unanswered in the end that I ended up explaining in my final author’s note. The plot is consistent as well.

Bad things: Like I mentioned earlier, I do think it drags on. Some scenes are definitely unnecessary and there’s some chapters that can be scraped out. There’s no reason for why there needed to be 60 chapters.

As a fanfic writer though, I think it’s safe to say that most of the time fics are filled with a lot of irrelevant chapters for fluff. They’re fillers, sure, but most people read for the fluffy scenes of a relationship. Chapters like that are also important for live updating a book. Sometimes it’s just easier to throw in a filler to give readers what they want in order to work on plot centered chapters. It’s something I’m conditioned to, but something that isn’t really a pro when writing a real book, which is something I want to do. Maybe I’m giving myself too much crap for this, but eh it’s definitely something that needs fixing.

Another thing that needs work would probably be my tendency to introduce characters and forget about them. One of my original characters, Jay, was a big part in the middle of the book, but then he slowly faded away and wasn’t brought up again until the epilogue.

1. Aberration

Here it is. My first Jarchie fanfic. My pride in joy. Look at the love this fic has been shown? My goodness. 116k. It’s probably my greatest accomplishment. This is my favorite fic and guess what?

It’s total bias.

But let me get into why this is good first. (Jughead being asexual is the best part)

This book is a coming of age story. It’s probably my only fanfic that takes place in the actual Riverdale Universe. All of my other fics are AU’s with the only connection to Riverdale being their names. It starts with Jughead and Archie at 4 years of age and goes up to age 27 with an epilogue at age 33. That being said, I can’t give you a specific plot summary because sooooo many problems arise and so many problems are solved throughout the years. It’s a glimpse of their life, and it’s beautiful.

Good things: sticking to canon. (In the beginning at least) Jughead is just as lost, confused, and edgy as he was in season one. (I say season one because Jughead in season 2 felt like a whole different character and I feel like the writers kind of ruined him. There’s such thing as character development but I think they went overboard. Anyways, that’s a different story.)

Their childhood is written as I envisioned it. There’s canon conversations, like Archie’s proposal to Betty when they were kids. It’s sweet.

Besides sticking to canon, I do a good job of sticking to parallels since there’s such a wide range of events and incidents going on. I think it shows continuity in the characters from when they were 10 to when they were 20.

Not only that, but the plot is just all around entertaining. There’s always something to aww at, something to get mad at, something to laugh at, something to cry at. It’s emotional, watching them grow up and go through all sorts of things. The problems that arise are real coming of age problems. People lose friends, make new ones, go through identity crisis, deal with loss, deal with stress, deal with home issues. It’s all there and very real. It’s raw. I love that. The character development is also amazing. Watching little kids turn into strong men and women is really interesting and fun to watch.

My favorite part is that Jughead is ASEXUAL.

I did so much research. When I found out that Jughead was supposed to be asexual in the show, I took my chance and ran with it. I did my best to represent the asexual community in this book. It’s what makes it so unique. It’s why this is my favorite. I get lots of dms about how this helped people figure out how they identify or get trough what they were feeling. I’ve put resources to the AVEN website, a safe community for asexuals. I did my best and I love the product. I love that I’ve helped people. This really is why this is my number one. Besides that representation, Kevin Keller is gay, Archie is bisexual, Liliana (my og character) is Hispanic, and my other og character, Aaron, is African American. Everyone loves my OCs in the book, especially Jackson. Representation to me is soooooo important. It’s one thing that I really nailed.

Another thing that I love about this book is that my development as a writer is so obvious. As the chapters go on, I get better and better. I start to fall into a style, and it’s so enjoyable to see that reading it again. The chapters get more descriptive, the grammar starts to improve, and the plot starts to get more complex.

However, in terms of technical aspects, it’s probably one of my worst written fics in the beginning. Still not as bad as Meadow of Flowers, but close.

Bad things: First of all, it’s written in present tense. That’s not totally against writing rules, but it’s unconventional and it’s more common for stories to be told in past tense. Again, I didn’t really know what I was doing. It was my first time writing in third person. It was my first time taking a crack at storytelling in years.

The grammar is awful. Because it’s in present tense, my tenses and verbs are sort of messed up at times. It feels awkward. And if it’s not that, it’s the fact that I for some reason can’t spell for my life. It makes for some very embarrassing typos like “he pressed a quick piss to his forehead.” I also didn’t know that whines and wines were two very different things.

...

I used wines as a verb for most of the book. If I was writing in past tense, I probably would’ve caught onto that mistake 100 chapters ago.

That’s another thing, the book is actually 100 chapters long. Despite that though, it doesn’t really drag like the other books do because there’s a new problem that comes along with every age. There’s not many dead spots, but some people do lose interest in it after the two graduate high school which is around chapter 60 I want to say? There’s a table of contents in the beginning that separates the chapters by what grade of school they’re in and by age. It’s convenient. You’ll need it if you don’t feel like sitting through elementary school Jarchie. Or maybe you don’t like college Jarchie and you want to skip to adult Jarchie. I’m telling you, it’s convenient.

But back to the grammar thing, I didn’t know that most quotes didn’t end with periods at the time, and that’s a huge problem that doesn’t get corrected until maybe my fourth book. All the dialogue had periods at the end instead of commas. For instance:

“But you said I could,” Jughead whined.

^That’s correct.

However, this is what I did:

“But you said I could.” Jughead wines.

^That basically sums up how bad the grammar is throughout.

Though technically imperfect, it’s definitely still a good read. The plot is amazing. 116k reads should tell you that it’s worth the read if you can get past those mistakes. Although I’m being hard on myself about it now, no one really noticed it. If they did, they never called me out on it. Honestly, writing on Wattpad has low expectations so just separating paragraphs correctly boosts your writing into the good category. Honestly that’s my biggest pet peeve. I used to do it too, but I can’t read a book that has huge paragraphs of dialogue without a separation between which character is saying what. It gives me headaches.

There’s tons of mistakes in this book, trust me. However, I think I’m going to leave the mistakes there. I want to look back on it, pisses instead of kisses on foreheads and all.

Anyways, I spent a good few hours writing this review and I doubt most people are going to read this but it’s going on my blog because it’s an honest evaluation.

Honorable Mention

That sixth book you see in the first image? The one with the flowers on the cover? It’s called Alphabet Jarchie and it’s my ongoing one shot book. I take a word from every letter of the alphabet and write a one shot about it. Obviously I can’t really rank it with my fics, but the one shots are helping me cut to the chase in my writing, and I think my ideas are pretty good. So if you don’t feel like sitting through my longggggg fanfics (though they are pretty enticing but this is me being harsh) you can check out my one shots.

This was fun.

DistressInDisguise x

Again, you can find my works here or under my username @DistressInDisguise on Wattpad.

#jarchie #jarchie fanfiction #jughead jones #archie andrews #riverdale fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #analysis #book review #distressindisguise #wattpad #riverdale #otp

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kellykadesperate · 7 years

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Nicole would you ever think about doing a little continuation of your Big Bang it doesn’t have to be a long fic or anything but just little snapshots into their life once they got together as I loved the whole world war theme and their story so much x

Do you have any headcanons for aaron & robert’s life together after they properly reunite in We’ll Meet Again? I could honestly read a whole angsty sequel about their life together, i’m so invested in this au version of their relationship lmao xx

so … i couldn’t resist. here’s about half of them, i have more i need to look over so enjoy these for now:

‘we’ll meet again’ headcanons (part one) :

1) Robert became an avid gardener. He dedicated a section for the garden to memories, it became a place filled with poppies like the First World War was dedicated to. It was filled with a sense of loss and tragedy and Robert hated watching them die. But Aaron would kiss his head, and tell him to wait until the flowers grew again in the spring and it wouldn’t feel so sad. They always grew, and Robert would always thank Aaron for making them grow again.

2) When Jacob was four, Robert received a letter from Eden’s mother wishing her grandson a happy birthday. It made Robert uncontrollably miserable until he was watching Aaron build stones up high in the garden with Jacob on his lap. He’d made a headstone for Eden, labelled ‘Mummy’ and it managed to make Robert smile for the first time in days. He was proud.

3) The first time they had sex after reuniting was not what either of them expected. They were passionate at first, ripping each other’s clothes off and falling into bed. But then Robert saw Aaron’s scars, more than he remembered, and he saw the bruises over his arms where needles had been prodded into, and he cried into Aaron’s chest. They were like that for what felt like hours, naked, exploring each other without anything sexual happening. It was all down to Aaron though, he initiated it and Robert readily accepted the sex, the way of communicating. It was slow and soft and then filled with need until they were collapsing down on the bed and falling to sleep. Content. For the first time in years it didn’t feel wrong for Aaron, he didn’t feel dirty, he just felt loved.

4) Annie’s mother, Martha, was beautiful, too beautiful to be working the streets at night because she was too proud to accept the help Aaron and Robert wanted to give her. It’s why she ended up the way she did, she’d contracted something from someone and she was dying before she could better herself for her daughter.

5) But before that, she’d been Aaron’s beard. She’d walk with him, her on his arm in front of crowds. Usually in the park where all the other women would gossip about them. She’d managed to keep the whispers about the two men in the quaint country house to a bare minimum and they were always grateful for that.

6) Robert built the cot Annie slept in after three attempts.

7) Aaron freaked out after Annie was in their care, thoughts about not being good enough for her or for Jacob was suddenly forced to the front of his mind and he was telling Robert to marry a woman who could be a mother to them both. But then Annie held his hand and all the insecurities fell quiet around him.

8) Robert wrote love poems for Aaron, usually on his birthday. He’d wrap them up in neat bows and have Jacob deliver them to him with a soft smile on his face. Aaron would always read them in the garden, alone. Then he’d come back inside, just kiss at Robert’s head and the older man would always see the tears in Aaron’s eyes. Aaron would always blame the flowers and his ‘hayfever.’

9) Harry had three children with Molly, his childhood sweetheart, and they visited almost once a month. Molly always baked them biscuits and although she didn’t understand Aaron or Robert, or their love the way Harry did, she was always kind.

10) Chas visited with Liv when she could, before the drive because too long and her bones became too weak so she’d send cards.

11) Liv would always stay with them at Christmas, one time Robert was asked if she was his child by some local busy body and Aaron jumped at the chance to call her his own. It helped stopped the gossip even more.

12) Robert broke the bed twice during sex, his heavy movements were enough to make the whole thing fall apart and Jacob worry something bad had happened as they battled with the sheets to cover themselves up and not have full on laughing fits.

13) It was almost public knowledge around Emmerdale about the boys. Everyone seemed to know that they were together in some way or other and over the years it became known as almost a turn of phrase. ‘You wouldn’t run after me like Aaron ran after Robert would ya?’

14) Aaron made toast for him and Robert every single morning until the day Robert left for the care home. He made sure to tell Ellie that it’s the only way to get Robert up in the morning.

15) Little Jacob took to Aaron like a duck to water, it took only two weeks for him to call him daddy. Not dad, not father, nothing too formal, something soft. Daddy.

16) And Aaron nearly ran, would have if Robert hadn’t been standing behind him and nodding at his son, telling him that was right, “Aaron is your other daddy isn’t he?” And maybe it was too soon, but he knew Aaron wasn’t going anywhere ever so it was okay. It felt right.

17) Aaron did leave though, because he had to. It was nearly a year after Annie was born and a woman in the nearby village began gossiping about seeing Robert wear the same shirt she’d seen Aaron wear three days earlier. It made Aaron panic, made him leave Robert a note saying sorry. He came back two weeks later and found Robert in a heap on the floor, Jacob asleep, Annie in his arms. “You said you’d never leave again, you promised me.” And Aaron hated himself for days until Robert was letting him know he understood why, and that the whole world was mad. Aaron could agree to that.

18) ‘We’ll meet again’ became *their song naturally. They would dance, or Aaron would shuffle his feet, every year on their anniversary. An anniversary of when they first danced together in that village hall, when they first kissed.

19) Robert tried to grow a beard like Aaron’s for nearly three months. It didn’t work and little Annie clapped her hands together because only ‘daddy fluffy head’ could have one.

20) They had a dog called Benson who Aaron became besotted with. Once Annie and Jacob had left home, he’d spend hours out in the garden talking to him about what was going on in his head, especially when he didn’t want to upset Robert too much. They buried him in the back garden and Aaron wasn’t too proud to cry on Robert’s shoulder when it happened.

21) Aaron often woke up in the night petrified that Robert would leave him and marry a woman. His face would be wet, his chest rising and falling madly and he would cry into Robert’s chest and beg him not to do what he ‘ought to do’ before people began to wonder why he didn’t have a wife, or a new one considering Eden had died. Robert would always reassure him, always hold Aaron close and whisper how much he loved him. “You’re mine and I’m yours” he’d say and something would always settle in Aaron’s chest.

22) Robert spent his whole life trying to cope with his bisexuality, it took years before he heard someone describe it on the television in detail, with a light voice and no disgust in his tone, and it made something inside him break. Aaron squeezed his hand as they sat on the sofa together and heard a report about it all. It struck a cord and Robert tried to come to terms with the label.

23) Aaron bought Robert three books on bisexuality, smiled as he watched Robert read them before bed and relax a little more each time he put the book down as if it was helping him every night.

24) Robert became known for his war poetry after Jacob secretly entered his father’s poems into a competition. It was snapped up. It became published and he had three books to his name by his sixtieth birthday.

25) They fought like cats and dogs when they wanted to. It usually involved screaming and shouting and breaking plates and then falling in bed and telling each other that the other one was in the wrong in between moans and kisses as they tried to have make up sex.

26) Aaron and Robert told Jacob and Annie about the moon story one night when it was up so high and they were laying out on the grass. Jacob was in awe of the fact that the moon was the same wherever you were and Annie got all excited and attempted to touch it with her little hands. Robert couldn’t help but hum their old little song as he brushed his teeth that night and Aaron couldn’t help but almost cry.

27) Aaron was approached by the local newspaper about his time during the war and his treatment as a homosexual. They wanted him to write a few articles about it all and after months of battling with what to do about it, Aaron found the words.

28) Aaron became a spokesman for a charity which voiced the treatment of the lgbtq community during the war and was reunited with the two boys who had been with him during those seven days. All three of them were clearly damaged by what had happened but all three of them had a fella with them as they attended the charity ball and Aaron was so proud of that fact.

29) Robert was in the audience, holding back tears as he heard their children clap like mad at their father. He only managed to mouth an 'I love you’ as Aaron thanked him for all the years they’d spend together, all the patience.

30) Annie and Jacob grew up knowing exactly what they couldn’t say to other people about who lived at home. When Jacob started school they had to sit him down and tell him that he couldn’t tell anyone he had a daddy called Aaron too. And Jacob cried, like he knew why and hated the world for making it all so unfair. They had to tell Annie the same thing, and they watched it hurt their children, they also watched it make them love Aaron even more though and they’d run into his arms as soon as they were home.

#im out but i queued this #hope you like them so far lol #there's about twenty more i have to look through #let me know if you have a favourite one #i tried to keep them light but nonnies asked for their life and it wouldn't have been light and fluffy all the time #big bang fic #headcanons

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cathygeha · 4 years

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REVIEW:

This Earl of Mine by Kate Bateman

Bow Street Bachelors #1

Reading the book description I was taken back to reading a book my father shared with me – a book in which a woman in need of a husband also went to a prison to find a condemned man to marry. The two books diverged from there though neither husband actually bit the dust by the end of the book they starred in. Both men were definitely more than the bride expected and both were fallen in love with by their wives before the end of the stories.

In this book we have wealthy Georgiana “Georgie” Caversteed being hounded by despicable cousin Josiah. He wants her money and isn’t planning to take no for an answer. Thus, the reason for the marriage of convenience. Georgie has plenty of money but no desire to wed the men in the ton that she has met already. There was a frisson of interest when Georgie met Benedict “Ben” Wylde but she realized that it was NOT real since...he was a dirty prisoner...until she experienced the same feeling when she ran into Benedict at a ball the next time.

This book had the two falling for one another slowly while they also spent time trying to solve a case Benedict and his friends were working on for Bow Street. There is a side story of Georgie’s sister Juliet and Simeon and the lead into the idea that either Seb or Alex, Benedict’s friends, will get their stories in books to come. The book did not stand out to me as something new or different but it was an enjoyable way to spend the day.

Did I enjoy this book? Yes

Would I read more in the series? Yes

Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Paperbacks for the ARC – This is my honest review.

3-4 Stars

Book-buy link: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250305961

SUMMARY:

Introducing the Bow Street Bachelors—men who work undercover for London’s first official police force—and the women they serve to protect. . .and wed?

Shipping heiress Georgiana Caversteed is done with men who covet her purse more than her person. Even worse than the ton’s lecherous fortune hunters, however, is the cruel cousin determined to force Georgie into marriage. If only she could find a way to be . . . widowed? Georgie hatches a madcap scheme to wed a condemned criminal before he’s set to be executed. All she has to do is find an eligible bachelor in prison to marry her, and she’ll be free. What could possibly go wrong?

Benedict William Henry Wylde, scapegrace second son of the late Earl of Morcott and well-known rake, is in Newgate prison undercover, working for Bow Street. Georgie doesn’t realize who he is when she marries him—and she most certainly never expects to bump into her very-much-alive, and very handsome, husband of convenience at a society gathering weeks later. Soon Wylde finds himself courting his own wife, hoping to win her heart since he already has her hand. But how can this seductive rogue convince brazen, beautiful Georgie that he wants to be together…until actual death do they part?

EXCERPT:

Chapter 1.

London, March 1816.

There were worse places to find a husband than Newgate Prison.

Of course there were.

It was just that, at present, Georgie couldn’t think of any.

“Georgiana Caversteed, this is a terrible idea.” Georgie frowned at her burly companion, Pieter Smit,

as the nondescript carriage he’d summoned to convey them to London’s most notorious jail rocked to a halt on the cobbled street. The salt-weathered Dutchman always used her full name whenever he disapproved of some- thing she was doing. Which was often.

“Your father would turn in his watery grave if he knew what you were about.”

That was undoubtedly true. Until three days ago, en- listing a husband from amongst the ranks of London’s most dangerous criminals had not featured prominently on her list of life goals. But desperate times called for des- perate measures. Or, in this case, for a desperate felon about to be hanged. A felon she would marry before the night was through.

Georgie peered out into the rain-drizzled street, then up, up the near-windowless walls. They rose into the mist, five stories high, a vast expanse of brickwork, bleak and unpromising. A church bell tolled somewhere in the darkness, a forlorn clang like a death knell. Her stomach knotted with a grim sense of foreboding.

Was she really going to go through with this? It had seemed a good plan, in the safety of Grosvenor Square. The perfect way to thwart Cousin Josiah once and for all. She stepped from the carriage, ducked her head against the rain, and followed Pieter under a vast arched gate. Her heart hammered at the audacity of what she planned. They’d taken the same route as condemned prisoners on the way to Tyburn tree, only in reverse. West to east, from the rarefied social strata of Mayfair through gradu- ally rougher and bleaker neighborhoods, Holborn and St. Giles, to this miserable place where the dregs of humanity had been incarcerated. Georgie felt as if she were nearing her own execution.

She shook off the pervasive aura of doom and straight- ened her spine. This was her choice. However unpalat- able the next few minutes might be, the alternative was far worse. Better a temporary marriage to a murderous, unwashed criminal than a lifetime of misery with Josiah. They crossed the deserted outer courtyard, and Georgie cleared her throat, trying not to inhale the foul-smelling air that seeped from the very pores of the building. “You have it all arranged? They are expecting us?”

Pieter nodded. “Aye. I’ve greased the wheels with yer blunt, my girl. The proctor and the ordinary are both bent as copper shillings. Used to having their palms greased, those two, the greedy bastards.”

Her father’s right-hand man had never minced words

in front of her, and Georgie appreciated his bluntness. So few people in the ton ever said what they really meant. Pieter’s honesty was refreshing. He’d been her father’s man for twenty years before she’d even been born. A case of mumps had prevented him from accompanying Wil- liam Caversteed on his last, fateful voyage, and Georgie had often thought that if Pieter had been with her father, maybe he’d still be alive. Little things like squalls, ship- wrecks, and attacks from Barbary pirates would be mere inconveniences to a man like Pieter Smit.

In the five years since Papa’s death, Pieter’s steadfast loyalty had been dedicated to William’s daughters, and Georgie loved the gruff, hulking manservant like a second father. He would see her through this madcap scheme— even if he disapproved.

She tugged the hood of her cloak down to stave off the drizzle. This place was filled with murderers, highway- men, forgers, and thieves. Poor wretches slated to die, or those “lucky” few whose sentences had been commuted to transportation. Yet in her own way, she was equally desperate.

“You are sure that this man is to be hanged tomorrow?” Pieter nodded grimly as he rapped on a wooden door.

“I am. A low sort he is, by all accounts.”

She shouldn’t ask, didn’t want to know too much about the man whose name she was purchasing. A man whose death would spell her own freedom. She would be wed and widowed within twenty-four hours.

Author Bio:

Kate Bateman, (also writing as K. C. Bateman), is the #1 bestselling author of historical romances, including her RITA® nominated Renaissance romp, The Devil To Pay, and the novels in the Secrets & Spies series To Steal a Heart, A Raven’s Heart, and A Counterfeit Heart. When not writing novels that feature feisty, intelligent heroines and sexy, snarky heroes you want to both strangle and kiss, Kate works as a fine art appraiser and on-screen antiques expert for several popular TV shows in the UK. She splits her time between Illinois and her native England. Follow her on Twitter to learn more.

This Earl of Mine Blog Tour Q&A

Q: What inspired you to write This Earl of Mine?

A: Most of my books are inspired by real historical events, but for the adventure subplot in This Earl of Mine I was looking up something completely different, fell down a research rabbit hole, and stumbled upon an outlandish plot to rescue Napoleon from exile on Saint Helena using a submarine! I’d had no idea submersibles were even in use in the Regency, but a little digging soon revealed a tale far stranger than fiction—with plenty of smugglers, spies, and underhand skullduggery thrown in. Of course, then my writer brain couldn’t help but wonder WHAT IF . . .?

What if someone loyal to Napoleon stole the plans for the submarine from the Admiralty? And what if London’s fledgling police force, The Bow Street Runners, were tasked with finding the vessel and foiling the scheme?

The main plot, of course, is the romantic one between shipping heiress Georgie Caversteed and Bow Street Runner Benedict Wylde. They try to piece together the clues, while trying to ignore the inconvenient attraction that sparks between them. (Spoiler alert: they succeed at the former, and fail miserably at the latter!)

Q: Is there one thing you would like readers to take away from this story?

A: You mean apart from a new appreciation of early19th century submarine development?! Why, yes! I firmly believe in happy-ever-afters for everyone, and while none of my characters may be perfect, they’re certainly perfect for each other. A successful romance should be a true partnership between equals, with love, respect, humor, and kindness. I hope that’s what readers see develop between Georgie and Benedict.

Q: Where do you go or what resources do you use to make sure your novels are historically correct?

A: I have quite a bit of overall historical knowledge from my life as an antiques appraiser and auctioneer; I’ve handled plenty of Regency-era artifacts, like scent bottles, reticules, clothes, letters, furniture etc. And I’ve visited (and lived in) plenty of historic houses when I lived in England. So I have a pretty good idea what that world is like when I’m describing it. I do lots of random research online too, though. I suspect I’m on a secret CIA watchlist because of my weird internet browsing history, which currently includes such gems as: ‘does Prussic acid smell like almonds?’ ‘18th century jewel heists,’ and ‘chloroform, first use.’

Q: Did you learn anything surprising while researching for this novel?

A: Apart from the crazy submarine plot, I found out what the chapel of Newgate prison looked like in 1816, discovered more about the founding of London’s first true police force, the Bow Street Runners, and found a new book boyfriend in the wonderfully roguish Benedict Wylde!

Q: Describe the hero and heroine of This Earl of Mine in three words each.

A: Georgie is resourceful, determined, and curious. Benedict is amusing, loyal and scoundrelly!

Q: What was the hardest scene to write in This Earl of Mine? Your favorite?

A: My favorite scene was the sexy banter between Benedict and Georgie as they listen to the terrible poetry written by Juliet’s fiancé. Almost every sentence is a double entendre, and Benedict is shameless in trying to say something utterly inappropriate to make Georgie laugh, and I just giggle every time I think of it. I hope readers can feel the ridiculously flirtatious, slow-burn teasing in that scene. Yum!

The hardest was the sexy scene inside the tiny submarine. It’s a confined space, and I had to think about the technicalities of which body part was where, and whether they had enough space to do the scandalous things I wanted them to do. (Of course they did!)

Q: Why do you write historical romance?

A: Because it can be total escapism. A reader can travel back in time to a different world and encounter situations that just don’t happen today. As a writer I like the challenge presented by the historical parameters; lots of great conflicts arise because of social, cultural, or economic factors. Plus, there are so many real historical adventures out there just waiting to be discovered. . .

Q: Is there another particular author that inspires you or that you enjoy reading?

A: SO MANY AUTHORS! Laura Kinsale, Connie Brockway (As you Desire is a favorite), Loretta Chase, Judith McNaught, Anne Stuart, Joanna Bourne, Tessa Dare, Eloisa James, Suzan Elizabeth Philips, Julie Garwood, Galen Foley, Kerrigan Byrne, Julia Quinn, Beverly Jenkins, Alyssa Cole, Joanna Shupe, Johanna Lindsey, J.R Ward, Janet Evanovich, Georgette Heyer, Mary Renault, Jane Austen, E.M Forster, Leo Tolstoy, P.G. Wodehouse, Antoine de Saint Exupery, Jean M. Auel, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, . . . Ok. I’ll stop now. But there are plenty more.

Q: What’s next for the Bow Street Bachelors?

A: Two more books! Those bad boys Alex Harland and Sebastien Wolff each get their own adventure and I can’t wait for everyone to read them! Alex meets his match in half-French jewel thief Emmy Danvers –AKA The Nightjar– in To Catch an Earl, (Bow Street Bachelors #2). And Seb gets a sexy cat-and-mouse game of his own when he’s forced to protect the infuriating Anya Denisova – a feisty Russian Princess who’s faked her own death in The Princess and The Rogue, (Bow Street Bachelors #3).

Q: Is there anything else you’d like to add?

A: Only that if you haven’t already preordered This Earl Of Mine, the paperback is currently at a special preorder price of $6.79, so snap it up in time for the release day, October 29th! Happy reading everyone!

Book-buy link: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250305961

#Kate Bateman #Bow Street Bachelors 1 #Historical Romance #Marriage of Convenience #St. Martin's Paperbacks #NetGalley

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writtingmyowndeliverance · 7 years

Text

LET ME HELP YOU

Maria Reynolds x Reader

Time: Modern

Summary: Maria and reader are friends. Reader is in love with Maria, but she is in an abusive relationship

Word count: 2 476

Warnings: Mentions of domestic violence

A/N: Maria, people, Maria.

You looked at the clock. 10 pm. You sighed. She was late again. You were getting tired of waiting for her and the idea of leaving the coffee shop was tempting, but after thinking about it, you decided to stay. You would wait for her as long as it was still possible to be in the shop and even then, you would wait for her outside. You missed her. You would do anything to see her again. You met Maria 1 year ago when you were in your worst moment. You just had gotten out of a relationship with a guy, who did nothing but making you feel less than him. He was your boss and he made sure you’d never forget that. So, when you finally decided to make him respect you, he broke up with you and hit you. He didn’t stop until you started bleed, and even then, he grabbed you from the hair and threw you into the street. It was night, so nobody was there. You started to walk with all the strength you had left and decided to stop near an alley. You stayed there, unable to breathe properly from the nose, because it was full of blood, and from your mouth, because you felt your lungs on fire. You were so tired, so beaten. You wanted to sleep, but you didn’t have somewhere to go. That’s when Maria walk into your life.

“Oh my god, are you ok?” You heard a soft voice say. You shook your head slightly not being able to talk or even move. “What’s your name?”

“y/n” You managed to say. Your throat hurt and you started to felt dizzy. The person grab your arm trying to help you not to fall. You looked up and saw that was a woman. She had big brown eyes.

“I’m Maria. Come with me so I can help you” You didn’t move. It was a bit suspicious “I won’t hurt you. Please, let me help you.” You looked at her directly into her eyes and knew she wasn’t lying. She wouldn’t hurt you, so you let her took you to her house.

She helped you until you were better and took care of you for one month. You became friends in that time and the idea of a life without her seemed distant. So, you decided to become roommates. She lived in a small apartment, but it was comfortable. For the next three months you did everything together, you were best friends. But, suddenly, you started to have feelings for her. She was beautiful and hot, but those weren’t the only reasons. She was always smiling and making jokes with you. Her smile was so big and beautiful you were quite sure you could stare at her all day long. The same with her eyes. Therefore, for the next month, you spend all day drooling over her. You knew it wasn’t a good idea getting this attached to someone, but if you were going to be in love with someone, you were grateful it was for Maria, so nice and caring even if she didn’t look like it on the outside with that particular red lipstick and a glance that could kill you.

But, as always, good things ends. And it this case it was all James’ fault.

When she first introduced him to you as a friend. You knew he was going to caused you problems. And you weren’t wrong. A month after that, he and she were together and, suddenly, you came in a second place. You assumed that you were just jealous and that she wasn’t in fact pulling you off, but then after 3 months, you realised you were no longer part of her life. Yes, you were still in her apartment, you were roommates after all, but besides of that you no longer spent time together. Every time you get home, she left. Every time you crossed paths, she looked away. You were heartbroken. You could felt your heart been ripped in half. You spent 1 month feeling miserable in your room, scared of crying in front of her if she acted like that one more time with you, before deciding to confront her. You weren’t sure of what to say Hey, I loved you before you were such an ass with me? or maybe I appreciate everything you had done for me, but I can’t stand being this broke in the inside because of your sudden indifference?. You gathered all the courage you had and started to get emotionally prepared to whatever that was supposed to going to happen. You opened your room door and stepped out. You walked to the tiny living room and saw Maria sitting in silence. You approached to her and coughed.

“Maria?” She stayed still for a second and then grabbed her purse on the table and got up. She moved towards the door, but you ran to cut her off. She stood there, looking away.

“I want to talk to you, Maria” She was still looking away “Please” She didn’t say anything “I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to live here anymore, Maria. Why are you acting like this? We were best friends!” She stayed in silence for a second then opened her mouth.

“Then go. I am not forcing you to stay here” What?. You were not prepared for this. “I’m not doing anything, but if you can’t stand me, you can go”

“I don’t want to go because I can’t stand you. I want to go because I’m in love with you!” The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. You freezed and Maria finally turned to look at you. You gasped. She had a black eye. “What ha-”

“I don’t love you back, y/n. I don’t feel the same way I’d ne-” You didn’t listen to anything she said. You were focus in her eye. Someone hurt her.

“What happened to your eye, Maria?”

“I did it myself when-” You knew she was lying.

“Don’t lie. It was James? That bastard did that, right? I’m going to kill him” You turned to open the door, but she grab your arm.

“It wasn’t James!”

“Yes, he was! Let me help you!”

“NO HE WASN’T” She shouted. You stared at her “HE DIDN’T DO THIS TO ME, OK? NOW LEAVE HIM AND ME ALONE” You felt your body shrink at every word she said. “YOU SAID YOU WANTED TO GO, THEN GO. I DON’T LOVE YOU, Y/N. NOW GET OUT OF MY HOUSE IF THAT’S WHAT YOU WANT”

You felt tears streaming down your face, you let go of her grip and run to your room. You gathered all your things and in half an hour, you were outside her apartment. You didn’t say goodbye to her. You couldn’t. You were so dejected. You called your all friend from work, and she told you that you could stay with her all the time you wanted. So for the next month you went to work, then came back to your friend house. You felt sad. A part of you wanted to call Maria just to hear her voice, but the other part told you not to. She hurt you. You kept wondering if James hurt her or she actually did it to herself. It seemed impossible, but even if you wanted to help her, she wouldn’t let you. She was clear. She wanted you to life her and James alone. Yet, you wanted to see her. You could take any opportunity just to see her if she was okay.

That opportunity came when she called you in the afternoon asking you to meet her in the coffee shop you always went together at 8pm. It was 5pm, you were still at work, but you didn’t hesitate and accept. You told your friend you were going to meet an old friend and you could be late at her home. She said it was okay and you left, not wanting to be late. Now, it was 10:30 and you still had hope she would come. She told you she would. You tried to remember her voice and zoned out.

You came back to reality when the coffee shop door opened. You turned to look and your heart started to beat faster. She was there. She came. Wait, something was off. Maria was standing in the door frame, shrink and trembling. Her red dress was dirty and even from the distance you could see a few bruises in her arms. You got up from your sit and run towards her. She looked at you while you run. Her eyes were red and swollen. How could someone hurt her? You stand in front of her and hugged her. She stood there for a second, before wrapping her arms in your waist and let out a sigh.

“What happened to you, Maria? Who did this to you? Please don’t lie to me”

She started to cry in your shoulder and you took her hand and lead her to the table. You moved your chair and sat next to her.

“Maria, please tell me. Let me help you”

“It was…” She started to sob and shook her head “I can’t... I’m sorry” She started to get up, but you grab her arm and slipped your hand until you held hers. You both locked eyes and stared for a minute. You could hear her sobbing.

“Please, Maria, I won’t judge you. You are my friend, after all. All I want to do is help you” She took a deep breath before answering.

“It was James. He hit me. It all started two months since we started dating, nothing serious.” With every word she said you felt anger boiled through your veins. You were right. That bastard hurt her. What kind of animal he was? “But, after you left the apartment, one month ago, it all got worse. He didn’t have to care about not leaving marks so he got more violent”

“My god, Maria, It’s my entire fault…” You said. Your heart sinked at the bottom of your stomach and you were overcome by guilt.

“No. It’s mine, y/n. I should let you help me when you asked me about the bruise in my eye” You squeezed her hand. It wasn’t her fault, but why she didn’t tell you?

“It’s not your fault. Don’t you dare saying it’s your fault, but why you didn’t tell me, Maria?”

She looked down before answering “Because I cared about you, y/n. I still do, but I didn’t knew you felt the same way. So I started to date James to kept me from thinking about you. It was a horrible decision.” You were concentrated in listening every word she said. She felt the same way? “He started to hit me and I didn’t pay attention to it. I told myself he did it because I did something wrong, but I was scared he would hurt you too, so I started to avoid you. I’m so sorry…”

Her eyes started to gleam with tears and you hugged her. You stayed silent. She was so innocent, so pure. She had always put everyone before her. She calmed herself and continue, “It worked, you stayed in your room and when James came, if he did something to me, you wouldn’t see it and you wouldn’t get yourself hurt. And I didn’t broke up with him, because I was scared he wanted to retaliate.” You took a moment to admire her. She thought about every possibility of James hurting you and decided to not to do anything to escape. You were amazed, but worried. She shouldn’t had done that. “I know you may think, I still could do something, but I was scared, y/n. And then you came and told me you loved me. I was so happy, but I couldn’t do anything. I needed you to stay safe, so I told you all those mean things so you could go. It broke my heart watching you leave, but it was necessary. After that, I stayed alone in the apartment and when James came all he did was hitting me. Today he told me to go to dinner with him, I declined and he shouted at me. I put this dress, so he would stop, but when I came out…. He….” She stopped and cried even more. You looked around to see if anybody was watching her. The shop was almost empty and no one was paying attention to you. You looked back at her and whisper in her ear.

“You can tell me, Maria. I need you to tell me. You can do this” She sobbed a bit more and took a deep breath.

“He told me I looked like a slut. He told me all I was worth was having sex, and then he hit me. He stopped after a while, took a beer, and got out. I called you when I was changing to go to the dinner, I figured I could escape, but then that happened. I came here late. I’m so sorry…”

“You don’t have to apologize for a thing, Maria. It’s okay. You are safe now with me. You know what you have to do, you have to tell the police. He has to go to jail. You have to let me help you. It’s my turn to help you.” She looked at you and nodded. You hugged her and stayed like that for a while. Then you took her hand and take her to the police station. It couldn’t wait. They all seemed efficient and willing to help her. They took James and put him on jail. It was all fine.

Six months after that, you and Maria were together. You lived in a bigger apartment, thanks to each of your promotions in your work. You were happy. All seemed to be perfect, and nothing could make it better, but you were wrong. Now, you were waiting for Maria to come to the living room. She appeared and you felt your heart fluttered.

“You look amazing, Maria”

“You look amazing, y/n”

You both laughed and approached to hold hands.

“Are you ready to leave?” You asked her

“I don’t know. It seems kind of rush” You looked at her a bit worried and then relax when you saw her laughing.

“I’m kidding, y/n! I’m sorry! I’m just a bit nervous, because of the wedding. I really love you and this is a big step.”

“Yes it is, but I love you too. And I’m sure I want to spend the rest of my life with you”

“Me too, y/n. But I’m still nervous…”

“Yeah, well, let me help you with that” You said before kissing her deeply.

#hamilton #hamilton an american musical #hamiton x reader #hamilton imagine #hamiltrash #maria reynolds #maria reynolds imagine #maria reynolds x reader #jasmine cephas jones #jasmine cephas jones x reader #maria x reader #margarita schuyler #maria reynolds protection squad #i love maria #well #i love jasmine #modern au #hamilton fanfic #alexander hamilton

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doctor-who-hears-a-horton · 5 years

Text

To Live A Better Life

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter: 8/?

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Summary: Rose Tyler has been the secretary to the CEO of Gallifrey Inc. for nine years, and she’s ready to move on with her life. But when Mr. Smith proposes something less than practical in lieu of her resignation, what will she say?

Read it on AO3 here!

NOTES: Thank you all for being patient with my sporadic updates. I really, REALLY appreciate you sticking around

It was a long day. Her hands and legs were bound, but she was so tired. She wished she could lay down and go to sleep. The boy next to her was really stiff, like he was scared.

The house they were in was dark, a little house on the edge of the street that had been abandoned. She had never been in it before, but now that this lady was claiming to be her mother, was this going to be her new home? She didn’t want to live here. She looked up at the boy with worry, feeling her face crumpling.

“I want to go home,” She said.

The boy looked down at her, wild hair all around. He was at least a couple years older than her, and had a very sad face. He reached into his pocket with his bound hands and pulled out a little caramel candy. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Don’t cry, have this.”

She couldn’t help but smile at the prospect of something sweet. “Thanks,” She said softly, and unwrapped the candy before putting it in her mouth.

“Is it good?”

She nodded, smiling up at him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she would be with this nice boy the whole time.

Rose woke up at ten am, which was the latest she had gotten up in a very long time. She lay in bed and grinned up at the ceiling, enjoying the calm of not having to sit up in a blind panic and get ready to leave. She was truly free to do whatever she wanted for a whole day. She’d start by laying around for another hour.

At about noon Rose was finally up and about, hair and makeup done and plans to go to a nice cafe with her mother. She was finished with her makeup when she heard a knock at the door. Frowning, she went to answer it, and was completely shocked to see Mr. Smith standing there, grinning at her.

“Sir, this is my day off,” she blurted out.

“Ah. Yes, it is. Well, I was thinking you might want to do something exciting, so I thought I’d come and spend the day with you.” It was oddly nice. Too nice. Rose hated that she was so suspicious of him. “Sorry, Mr. Smith, I have plans to meet my mum.”

“Oh, well, that’s alright, perhaps I could come along?”

Rose winced. “No offense, Mr. Smith but I need the day off. Completely. Not to say I don’t like you, cause I do. But if you come with me, I’ll feel like I have to.... Do my job all day.”

“I don’t want that,” he waved his hand dismissively. “It won’t be an inconvenience to you. I should like for us to be friends, seeing as how my offer still stands.”

She knew what offer he meant, and she had to refrain from rolling her eyes at him. He really was beating a dead horse. “Mr. Smith, I believe I’ve told you my opinion on that particular matter.”

He frowned. “I thought you’d be a bit more excited to see me, Miss Tyler.”

She clenched her fists at her side briefly. “It’s my day off,” she said lamely.

“Yes, and it would be a grand time if we spent it together, don’t you think? The office can go without me for one day, I should think.”

Rose frowned. “I’m not sure about that one, Mr. Smith. You’re very much needed at the office, at all times really. You can barely take days off.” She knew she was just trying to convince him to go away, and she felt a little bad about it, but she really didn’t want him to come with her. Mr. Smith had a tendency to make everything about him, and she wasn’t under any illusion that ‘her’ day off was going to be any different.

He pursed his lips, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Well, I think it would still be nice.”

“I’m meeting my mum,” She repeated.

“Then let me take you to dinner tonight,” He said, relenting a bit. “To say… To say that I’m sorry for everything that’s happened.”

Rose blinked. “Did you just say you’re sorry to me?”

He blushed. “Don’t make me say it again.”

“Have you been talking to Jack?”

“Why, did he say something?”

She bit her lip to keep from laughing, having received her answer just through that. He blushed even darker and shot her a dirty look. She crossed her arms over her chest, wanting to tease him a little more, but also knowing that it wouldn’t really benefit her to do so. Besides, a nice fancy dinner wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

“Alright, I’ll allow you to take me to dinner then,” She relented. “You can pick, but don’t order for me.”

He nodded, looking far happier than she thought he had ever looked. “Brilliant. Alright, I will. I’ll come by around seven. Be ready.”

And just like that he was back to his normal self. He nodded curtly to her and disappeared from her front porch, heading back down to her car. Rose stood in her doorway for a few more moments, not sure what to make of this. Was he really trying to apologize? Or was this another elaborate way to try and get her to marry him?

Blowing out her cheeks, she closed the door and went back to finish getting ready to meet her mum.

*****

“I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re getting away from that miserable man,” Jackie said as the two of them looked at their menus. The little cafe Rose had taken them to was not really anything special, but Rose was a big fan of it.

“Well, he’s not all the way miserable,” she said softly. “He’s been… Decent, recently. I think he’s trying to make it right before I leave.”

“He hasn’t tried to make it right with you for nine years,” Jackie pointed out, then took a long, hard look at her daughter. “You haven’t been sleeping.”

“I have,” Rose protested.

“No, you haven’t. And it’s no use lying to me, I’m your mum.”

Rose bit her lip and looked back down to her menu. “Well, I’m still having the nightmares.”

“Oh, Rose.”

“No, it’s alright,” Rose said, “It really is. I’ve just been thinking about it a lot, and I really want to find the boy that was trapped with me in there. He has to be out there.”

“Just because he said he’d come see you after it all happened doesn’t mean he could’ve actually come, Rose. You were both just kids. And besides, that theme park was built over the apartment site. You remember.”

“Yeah,” Rose acknowledged. “I don’t know, I just thought maybe… It’s just a stupid dream.”

Jackie smiled softly. “It’s not stupid. I just want you to be realistic.”

“I think I am. But to have someone around who had the same experience I did might help. Maybe I’d stop having the nightmares.” She said the last quietly, as though she was just slightly embarrassed by the whole thing.

Jackie reached over and squeezed her daughter’s hand. “Oh, sweetheart. Then, if it’ll make you happy, then keep looking.

***********

Rose was back at her flat hours later when she heard a knock at her door. She knew it was Mr. Smith, but she wasn’t sure if she was actually ready to spend an evening with him. She’d agreed for the idea of free dinner, and was afraid he’d try to turn it into something more.

When she opened the door and he stood there with a bouquet of purple roses, she knew she was right.

“What’s all this?” She asked.

“An apology. I’m told I’m not good at those.”

“I’d assume Jack mentioned that to you?”

Mr. Smith wrinkled his nose. “Well, that’s hardly the point, I should think.”

He was right. She was honestly being a little too hard on him. Blowing out her cheeks, she took the flowers. “Thank you,” She said, smiling at him. “You can come in while I put them in water, if you want.”

He nodded and awkwardly followed her into her flat, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking around quite nervously. She let the silence hang over them, not feeling uncomfortable in the slightest, even though she could tell that he was.

“They’re lovely,” She said, “How did you know I like roses?”

“I thought people might not give them too often because of your name,” he said, “I wanted to be different.”

Rose nodded, realizing she would’ve been foolish to expect a different answer. “Well, thanks,” she said, laughing a little.

He nodded, not saying anything, and it settled over her that he might see this as a date. Despite her stoic exterior towards the man itself, she felt her heart trip over itself. He was being kind, after all, kinder than usual. The optimism in her wanted to believe that he might be a better person before she actually left the company. Besides, he was quite good looking. It wouldn’t be a horrible night.

“I’ve got us reservations at a restaurant downtown,” he said finally, looking at her with piercing eyes.

“Where?” She asked cautiously.

“Bad Wolf,” he said, daring her to question his choice.

She had to stop herself from physically gasping. Bad Wolf was incredibly expensive, she hadn’t been there in her entire life. “Oh, I’ve… I can’t say I’ve ever been there,” she said, forcing a professional smile.

“Well, you’d never talked about going there, so I assumed that was the case,” Mr. Smith replied, “I wanted to give you a different experience.”

It would certainly be different. One hundred pounds different, really. Rose immediately found herself panicking. She would have to try to pick the cheapest thing on the menu, and then she’d have to act like she belonged at such a place. She was good at faking it, being Mr. Smith’s secretary often meant that she had to pretend to fit in in places that she didn’t necessarily belong.

“The car’s waiting,” he said blandly after a few moments, and she realized that she’d been staring off into space, or rather, into the flowers she’d set in water.

“Alright,” She said hesitantly. She followed him from her flat and to the car that was parked outside her building, engine already running. She’d ridden in his chauffered car before, but she realized when they approached the vehicle that that wasn’t going to be the case. He’d simply left his engine running outside her flat.

“Mr. Smith, that’s not very safe,” She tutted at him, heading towards the driver’s side. He stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.

“I’ll drive,” he said softly, almost nervously. Rose peered up at him, shock evident in her eyes. He lifted a shoulder. “It’s your day off.”

So it was.

He was a good driver, but Rose had to admit that if she didn’t have to, she probably wouldn’t either. He looked very focused, hands at ten and two, eyes fixed on the road. She wondered when was the last time he’d really laughed. She couldn’t remember, and she’d been around him for nine long years. She cocked her head a little, regarding him carefully.

“You don’t have to do this just for me,” she said softly, “You can have fun too.” “Who said I wasn’t having fun?”

“Nobody had to say. You look very… Stoic.”

He huffed and looked to her and then back to the road. “I simply tend not to wear my emotions so obviously, Miss Tyler. It’s a sign of weakness.” Rose lifted her eyebrows. “You should know by now, Mr. Smith, that I don’t think of you as weak, and you cracking a smile every once in a while wouldn’t make me think you as such.” She didn’t know why she was so determined for him to have a good time, but she had a feeling he’d continue to be miserable unless somebody pointed it out to him. Not that Jack hadn’t tried, because she knew he probably had, but maybe hearing it from more than one person would do it. Well, she could hope, at least.

“Oh, well… That’s always nice to hear, Miss Tyler. I will miss your words of encouragement.”

She jolted a bit. It was the first time he’d brought up her leaving without making it a game, without asking her to stay or suggesting he marry her. It was resignation. He was doing this, today, because he wanted to. She wished she could suss out what that meant, but she wasn’t sure she ever could.

“You know, Mr. Smith, I think I might miss giving them.”

#to live a better life #ray lu writes fic #raylu ten x rose #raylu writes fic #doctor who #rose tyler #ten x rose #tenxrose #tenrose #tenth doctor #tenpetals #doctor who fic #tenrose fic

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