#they call you a spoil sport and slap your arm back on | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nanaslutt · 6 months

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What do u think of Gojo begging you to give him a handjob and promising he wont cum during NNN but surprise surprise he fails so u ruin his orgasm 🤯

I think YES???? this was insanely fun to write, tysm for the ask nonnie<33

tell me why i forgot nnn was a thing LOLLL

contains: fem reader, crack, handjobs, whiney!satoru, established relationship, cumming handsfree, ruined orgasm, failed edging, begging, gojo calls you 'ma'am ' once as a joke, 'baby' and 'princess' used for reader

2k words :p

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

"Baby pleeeeease." gojo whines, laying his head on your knees from where he sits between your legs on the carpeted floor,

"Satoru, you were just begging me last month to not let you cum during November no matter what." you sighed, he does this every year, making you swear up and down that you'll hold him accountable and not let him lose NNN, hearing from geto that if you last the whole month, the orgasm on December first was mind-numbing

of course, he wouldn't know, becasue every year he came crawling to you about how stupid this challenge was, barely a week into the challenge, and he was dragging you to the nearest surface and fucking you against it, filling your guts with his cum,

but not this time, miraculously he had held out this long, only eight days before the challenge was over. he of course had you to thank for thank, deep down you knew he really did want to complete this challenge, and thats why he was so insistant every time the dreaded month came around.

but Satoru was a slut for pleasure, especially for the kind of pleasure he got from you. Whether it was your hands, mouth, cunt, he could get off using any part of your body and he would be the happiest man on earth

"I won't cum, swear, just miss your hands on me baby pleeeease," he practically cried, hugging onto your knees, turning his face into your skin whining and groaning like a spoiled child,

"Toru, you and I both know you do not have enough self-restraint to just edge yourself," knowing him better than himself

together, you guys have tried edging, Satoru never being able to make it past the first time you stopped right before he came, once again saying how stupid this was, quickly fucking his cock back into you and bringing himself to the brink of orgasm using your body, cumming with no restraint, even though he was once again the one who brought the idea to you,

"I'm starting to think you might have commitment issues," you mumble under your breath, his fake cries and obnoxious pouting pulling you out of your thoughts, phone dropping by your side, looking down at him with a huff,

"Please, all you gotta do is rub my cock a little, just for a second please," he drags out the please once more, lip sticking out in a pout as he looks up through his snowy lashes at you, "jus wanna feel you please, it's been so long, need it, baby, please."

shutting your eyes and sighing once again, unable to deny him any longer with him being so persistent, especially when he asks you so nicely, looking up at you with those beautiful eyes of his,

"oh my goddd Satoru, okay, fine." you shake your head, slapping your hand over your face, and he perks up, immediately abandoning his spoiled rich kid act, leaving fat kisses all over your knees, "yes yes yes thank you, baby, promise I won't let you down,"

he stands up and you peek through the cracks in your fingers, hand still on your face and your jaw practically drops at the sight, he is already sporting a huge tent in the crotch of his grey sweats, smile stretching from ear to ear while he looks down at you,

"you're already hard?" you exclaim, disbelief plastered on your face, "feelin' on ur legs made me hard," he says nonchalantly, the expression on your face not changing, "now up you go!" leaning down he scoops you up from under your arms and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, "woah! toru!" you exclaim, caught off guard as he takes long strides to your bedroom

strong hold on the underside of your knees as he hums, making his way through the hallway, finally reaching his destination and plopping you down in front of him on the hard floor, "how do ya want me your majesty?" he smirks, hands in his pockets waiting for your direction, "jus' go lay down on the bed you freak," pushing his solid chest back towards the king mattress,

putting on a show as he faux stumbles backward, flopping back on the bed, fluffy white hair on the pillows, putting one hand behind his head, the other coming down to rub himself over his sweats, "don't leave me waiting princess" biting his lip, lips corners of his lips curling up into a flirty smile,

"stop fucking touching yourself," you sigh, "gonna cum before I even get my hands on you." You're feeling undeniably aroused yourself, you and Gojo have a very active sex life, never going weeks without touching each other unless he is away on a mission. since he made quite the effort with the challenge this time around (largely thanks to you) you've been feeling pretty antsy, participation in the challenge yourself as a way of supporting him,

though there's no real pressure on you, if you wanted you could rub one out at any time. the only downside is that getting off on your own never felt as good as it did with Satoru,

he whistles, giving himself one last grope before his heavy hand joins the other behind his head, "yes ma'am" he says slightly teasing tone lacing his voice,

you crawled on top of him, resting your ass right above his knees, "remember Satoru, you're not going to cu-" he cuts you off, waving his hand in front of you, rolling his eyes, "yeah yeah, not gunna cum, I got it," he says snarkily, a little too snarky for someone who was quite literally on his knees begging you to touch his stupid cock, but you digress,

narrowing your eyes at him before sliding your slender fingers over his upper thighs, over his hips, teasing his lower stomach, barely grazing his twitching clothed cock on the way back down, repeating the process a couple of times, sometimes opting to skip over running your fingers over his cock altogether

his jaw is slightly slack, watching your hands intently, "cmon, don't be a tease baby," he sighs, pushing his hips off the bed towards you, "You're in no place to make demands right now," staring into his intimidating eyes challengingly,

he bites his lip, shutting his mouth, awaiting your move, pushing his shirt up, resting right under his pecs as you tease your fingers on the short white hairs of his happy trail, right above the hem of his pants,

smile now off his face, looking concentrated as he bites his lip harshly, eyes darting back between your fingers and pretty face, looking so concentrated on what you were doing,

your cunt was aching to feel him inside you, trying to push your own needs out of your brain, feeling nearly impossible as you exposed more and more of his happy trail the more you teased down his pelvis,

finally grabbing the fabric of his pants and sliding them down his incredibly toned thighs, he lifted his hips, aiding you in undressing him, his breathing started to pick up when you looked closely at his cock straining under his boxers

staring at a dark spot where his pre was leaking from his tip under his briefs, trying not to roll your eyes back when he made his cock jump. taking your index finger and rubbing it on the wet patch on the head of his dick, drawing little circles around it, his breath hitching, breathing picking up slightly watching you pull your finger back slowly, a string of cum connecting the two of you,

giving his boxers the same treatment, slipping your fingers underneath the hem and sliding them down, his hips raising again to make your job easier, and he's grinning so hard when your jaw drops open, watching his flushed cock slap back against his tummy, flexing the appendage again, putting on a show for you,

"your cock is so pretty Toru," you marvel, squeezing your thighs together so you can focus on the task at hand, "ur leaking so much," finger tapping his angry head a couple of times, proving your point as the cum makes little 'plap' 'plap' sounds when your finger comes in contact with him,

"There's so much it looks like you already came," you tease, finally wrapping your hand around his warm tip, hips leaving the bed once more to slide into your hand, "hips on the bed please Satoru," you correct, muscles in his thighs and abs flexing as you feel him connect his ankles together behind you,

starting to give him steady shallow pumps and his jaw is slack, eyes rolling back when you twist your wrist over the head of his neglected dick, "fuuuuck baby, just what I needed," he breathily laughs out a smile, "a little faster please," he requests, both hands leaving their place behind his head to grip the sheets by his sides,

"let me know when you feel close," you instruct, waiting to see him nod in acknowledgment before pumping your hand a little faster, sliding effortlessly up and down his cock with vulgar wet sounds thanks to his leaky cock,

"yesyesyes s-shit, squeeze harder," breaths entering and leaving his lungs rapidly as he tips his head back into the pillows, when you follow his instructions he lets out a long groan, abs clenching more frequently, your body jolting a bit every time he fidgeted his legs around the sheets behind you,

breathing heavily yourself, free hand coming down to press against the heat between your thighs, a temporary relief as you tried to memorize his every reaction he gives you,

"you close Satoru?" you question, noticing his breath come in shorter pants, warm cock twitching and straining against your hands, his thighs. tensing and unsensing more frequently, all telltale signs of his impending orgasm, "I asked you a question," you emphasized with a strong squeeze at the base of his lengthy cock, "n-no, not close yet, promise," he bites his lip, keeping his eyes screwed shut, sheets between his fingers practically ripping before you continue,

choosing to believe him you keep up the previous pace, squeezing your fingers tight around the tip of his cock on the downstroke and that's when you notice one of his hands abandoning his grip on the poor sheets to cover his mouth, his moans reaching a crescendo, and you know exactly whats happening

He's going to cum, and he lied to you about it

jerking your hand up his cock once more before you let go completely, anticipating his moves when he shoots his head up, hands reaching for his cock and you catch his wrists, pining them above his head, if he had half a mind he would break out of your grip with ease, but he was milliseconds from cumming, not having his usual strength coursing through his body,

"no! Nononono," he's protesting when his back arches, curling in on itself, legs thrashing under your weight as his cock dribbles out long spurts of cum, twitching and throbbing with every string, "Fuuuuck nooo, no, ughhh," he groans at you for ruining his orgasm, whole body twitching,

dick starting to soften in his own mess against his lower abs,

"you seriously thought you were gonna get away with that? you asked in an incredulous tone, hes pouting, letting out a long groan of your name before tipping his head forward and making eye contact with you,

"That was sooo mean" he pouts, "ive been saving that load..." he whines out, cock still twitching in the aftershocks,

"what was mean, is when I asked if you were gonna cum and you lied straight to my face," you spat, laughing in disbelief, swinging your legs off his torso while his eyes follow your figure, watching you wipe your hands using a tissue from the box you keep on the bedside table, he groans out your name again, "I'm sorryyyy, was feeling sooo good," he tries to justify

giving him a look that screams are you actually serious right now, as you start towards the door, "sounds like you need a pussyban to me," you deadpan, walking through the doorframe out into the hallway,

"WOAH!! woah, woahwoahwoah," practically teleporting his feet on the floor, hastily pulling up his pants as he chases you out of the room, hot on your trail, "baby! baby, haha, let's not do anything drastic now, kay?" he baffles in disbelief, worry laced in his voice.

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sincerlycas · 1 year

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handle that.

summary: plug eren takes his girl out to the mall after working overtime for the past days but gets into a run in and y/n gets the repercussions.

warning: plug eren, bad bitch y/n, black y/n, drugs, gun, toys, backseat sex, slight rough sex, full nelson, mature scenes, etc.

don’t forget to dm me for commissions <3

see one thing eren hated more than anything was being away from his girl for too long. it’s not like he wanted to be away from his favorite lady but he has a job and it’s a supply and demand thing. driving towards your apartment eren thought of what he should get you as an apology. not only was he not able to be with you but he was also ignoring your texts.

he was being bombarded with texts from clients and suppliers that he really couldn’t even sit for a second to send you a simple hey. but not today, today he was going to hang out and spoil his girl no matter what.

“hey mamas give me a kiss” leaning forward to give him a quick peck after seating in the passenger seat the turning your body away from him while fixing your skirt. “really y/n?” gripping your face eren turned you to look at him in the eyes. “mamas you know I’ve been working overtime there’s no need to act like this.” rolling your eyes you moved his hand off your face and looked out the window. “so busy you can’t even text a bitch ‘good morning’ ‘how are you’ ‘i love you’ or a simple ‘I won’t be able to text much I’m working overtime’ ?!” turning your head to look at him with a mean mug. you knew he was working so he could be able to spoil you like he always has but you still wanted his attention is that so hard?!

“y/n now you’re acting like a brat because you know damn well I didn’t have the time too so shut this shit down right now before you have sum coming for you. and put on the damn seatbelt imma take you shopping.” starting the car eren shook his head knowing you had every right to act how you acted but he wasn’t putting up with it today. biting your lip you grabbed the seatbelt and buckled up listening to him because quite frankly you loved when he spoke like that.

feeling a hand on your thigh you turn to look down at see eren rubbing between your thighs comfortably. rubbing his hands you look at the tattoos he had on them one specifically being a red inked tattoo of your birthdate located on his middle finger which was sporting your guys matching promise rings. “mamas you know id never deliberately ignore you.” stopping the car in the mall parking lot eren turned to rub the side of your face with his thumb while his hand rubbed the back of your neck.

“mhm” nodding your head you rubbed his arm as you leaned forward over the console and gave him the kiss he wanted. “atta girl” slapping your ass eren pulled back from the kiss and got out the car and helped you out and walked into the mall hand in hand with you.

“where to next ma?” holding bags from Chanel to Gucci eren carried them as he followed you mindlessly to each store you wanted to go to. “hmm how bout Sephora?” turning around to face him catching him staring at your ass you laughed. “nigga are you even listening to me?” looking up at you eren let out a hm? which told you your answer. “I said let’s go Sephora pa” hooking your arm with his you leaned your head on his shoulder as y’all continued walking with each other.

“y/n?! that you?!” turning around to see who called you and spot it was one of the guys you used to hang with but dropped him since he was acting weird. “oh hey jay” waving hi at him then turned on your heel to walk away but was interrupted by Jay stopping you and asking for a hug. you didn’t think nothing of it because you guys did used to hang with each other. giving him a hug as he asked but then you felt a large slap on your ass and two hands gripping it. “damn your ass still fat like I remembered”.

before you could let a word out eren punched the guy right in the face while you were still hugging him causing the guy to fall back while letting you tumble to the side. “eren- .” trying to stop eren by grabbing his shirt to which he moved you aside and grabbed ol boy and slammed him on the wall. “who tf you think you touchin like that huh?” landing another blow to his face eren gripped Jay by the collar not letting up. “m-my bad man I ain’t know” “you ain’t know? you didn’t see her holding onto me the whole time or what?” eren pressed the guy harder into the wall causing any bystanders to be blinded from what he was finna do.

pressing the cold gun against the guy’s abdomen eren looked at him straight in the eye “you gone apologize to her then you gone get tf on and speak nothin of this igh?” nodding frantically Jay moved aside and went to apologize to you then jogged off.

shocked you looked at eren who was grabbing your bags then went and grabbed your hand as well exiting the mall with you and making you guys hop back in the car.

starting the car eren stayed silent while you tried to process what happened. “eren wtf is your issue, I know what that guy did was wrong but you shouldn’t have caused a major scene like that if you were there for a second later you could’ve gotten arrested-“

“y/n does it look like I give a fuck about that shit right now?”

jerking your head back at his words you pushed the side of his head not giving a fuck if he was driving. “nigga remember who the fuck you talking to cuz I’m not the one remember that.” automatically after saying that eren swerved the car around and headed towards a empty parking lot nearby the house and parked. “get in the back y/n.” eren unbuckled his seatbelt and turned towards you waiting for you to talk back to him again, to which you did.

“ion even know why you’re acting like this bruh you’re trippin” rolling your eyes you sat down still. “y/n another man just slapped your ass but I’m supposed to be akeke ajaja? fuck no, let alone the fact you literally hugged his ass knowing why the hell you dropped him in the first place. you’re not fucking innocent so stop fucking playing with and get your ass in the fucking back !!”

staring at eren you saw how angry he seemed and decided to let him win this time because you knew If you kept trying him it would just get worse. “mmcht” sucking your teeth at him you took off your heels and moved into the back. while sitting down with your arms crossed, you stared at eren through the car mirror to which he looked back while lighting a blunt and began speaking while staying in his spot in the drivers seat. “mamas- I buy you shoes, dresses, jewelry, I pay for your nails and hair, I fuck you good, I cater you with everything and all I ask is for you to listen to me without running that spoiled ass mouth of yours and you can’t even do that” taking a inhale from the blunt while leaning his head back.

“that’s fine because that ends today imma teach yo ass a lil sum.”

that lil sum he was referring to was making you go through misery. “keep them legs spread or imma make hold your nut.” currently you were ridded from your skirt and your back leaning against the car door with your legs spread wide and cunt on display. “fuckkk~ eren please~” eren held a black bullet vibrator to your clit on the highest setting while scissoring your hole with two fingers. “please nothing shut that shit up” closing your thighs on his hand while closing your eyes and arching your back off the door shaking from cumming again. “y/n.. I know you didn’t cum without my permission, I’m seeing things right?” slamming your legs back open eren looked down to see you leaking.

“your spoiled slutty ass don’t listen for shit- now look you’re ruining my seats !” taking his fingers out your cunt and sliding them into his mouth while looking at you “you lucky you taste good.” whining you feel eren slide in slowly while putting one of your legs on his shoulder. “f-fuck~ pull some out renn~” pushing his stomach with your hand you teared up from how much pressure was being put on your g-spot and right after your orgasm. “move your hand move your mf hand.” slapping your hand from his stomach and dragging you to lay fully on the seat he wasted no time and thrusting into you harshly while holding onto one of your tits.

“e-erennn~!! give my pussy a breakk~” moaning loudly into his ear as he laid on top of you gripping the car door behind you pounding down into your hole with no chance of slowing down. “don’t act like you can’t take dick mamas, I’ve trained this pussy more than enough for you to be acting like you can’t , so you can stop acting up and take daddy’s dick?” biting your lip while wrapping your legs around him and nodding your head yes.

smiling down at you eren fixed your hair to move it away from you face and kissed you and sucked on your bottom lip “you’re so gorgeous mamas especially when you spread out for me like this.” kissing the side of your face eren leaned up off you and bringing both your legs to rest on one shoulder and started hitting deeper than before while pinching at your clit and occasionally adding the vibrator onto it.

“ohh shittt~!! eren n-no more~!! I can’t take it anymore~” pushing against his chest while squirting up onto his stomach and your thighs. laying there huffing and puffing eren watched as your eyes rolled in the back of your head while you squirted and smiled.

“alright I’ll give you a break ma, but when we get to that house you better be ready”.

fixing his clothes before he got out the car eren made it back to the driver seat but not before he shoved another vibrator into you and tied your hands together with his belt to prevent you from taking it out. the whole ride home all eren heard was muffles of his name and moans and those sounds were better than any song being played in the radio.

upon arriving to the house eren covered you with a blanket and took you out the car and carried you to the room. “t-t-take it out~” laying down on the bed naked and legs spread wide open with the vibrator still buzzing inside you. “why should I? I’m still not done punishing you because I know right after this is over you’re gonna still act like a spoiled bitch.” squeezing at your thighs eren leaned over you and took the belt off you hands and sucked at you nipples. “I p-promise I won’t, I’ll be good~”

chuckling at your words eren licked his lips and tugged at your nipple. “you’ll be good mamas?” “I’ll be good daddy” “that’s nice to hear ma but imma still fuck this pussy of yours up.”

biting your lip and tearing up knowing your pussy is going to be domestically abused.

today eren was feeling a little different so while putting the lit blunt back between his lips he put you in a full nelson and started fucking up into you with no mercy ! “o-o-omggg~!! why are you fucking me like thisss~!!” arching your back off him you squirted yet again while shaking on him. reaching his hand in front of you he quickly rubbed your clit in harsh circles to prolong your orgasm. “don’t act like you don’t know why- fuckkk~ I’m cumming~” gripping onto your neck and jackhammering up into your cunt eren cummed inside then calmed down after. taking the blunt of his mouth and blowing the smoke into your face eren spoke “you gone behave now?” nodding frantically not wanting to continue with your pussy being sore.

“that’s what I thought, try me again and imma handle that.”

commission for: @spaceforher

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nightmaretist · 8 months

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TIMING: August 20 PARTIES: Marcus @thenavysealkie & Inge @nightmaretist LOCATION: Short & Stout Brewery SUMMARY: Inge sits down across from Marcus. They end up staring at a piece of abstract art, and interpret it in their own, personal ways. They chat for a while after moments of introspection. CONTENT WARNINGS: Child death

The Short & Stout brewery had soon become a favored space of Inge, who liked a place where she could sip a fair few beers but didn’t like coming across her students while doing so. It was sweet, anyway, to come here after a walk in the woods. She’d collected a fair few bits and bobs, to file away in her collection of naturalistic bits and bobs — it would be of use in a future piece, one that only existed in her mind for now.

With a Pepper Up Stout in her hands, hiking boots still on her feet, she moved through the brewery before letting her gaze fall on a piece of art above a little nook. There was already someone sitting there, but Ingeborg had never let that stop her. She looked at the painting for a moment. Mixed media, that she liked. “That must be new,” she said, pointing at it with her glass. A small bit of beer fell on the table. “Oops! Sorry, let me get that —” Placing her glass down and sliding in the boot, her eyes trailed to the painting once more before she got a tissue to wipe the liquid up.

She balled the spoiled paper up and pushed it to the side of the table. “I just need a closer look to that piece of work, if that’s okay. If you mind the company, just say so.” Inge looked up again. “What do you think of it?”

Despite his more affluent upbringing, Marcus didn’t really know much about fine art. He and his father were much more focused on studying sports and war history, and didn’t take a lot of time to appreciate much else. Still his mother loved it, and he now found himself regretting not studying a subject that he could have connected with his mother on. As he leaned back in his chair and sipped on his drink, it was the same one he had been sipping on for the past 40 minutes, he studied the painting above where he sat and tried to understand where people found the deeper beauty.

It doesn’t even look like anything, it’s like somebody just slapped a bunch of colors on a canvas and called it a day. I could do that, Marcus thought to himself. His thoughts were soon interrupted, however, as he heard a woman’s voice behind him talking about the piece. He saw the woman spill a small amount of her drink on the table, some of it splashing onto his arm.

The woman then decided to sit down right next to him, which wasn’t unwelcome. He definitely appreciated the company. However, she soon asked him what his thoughts on the piece of art were, and she definitely seemed to appreciate it more than he did. Now, he could have had an honest conversation and tell her it just looked like random globs of paint, but didn’t think that would get him far. Besides, having an intellectual conversation about the piece might just teach him a thing or two.

Marcus swirled his drink thoughtfully before saying “I find their color choice and line work to be… pedestrian.” He did his best to emulate his mother and her rich friends when they went on their art tours. “How about you?”

It would be a source of shame for Inge, if her art ever came to hang in a place like this. Not that there was anything wrong with the bar itself, but there was something about your pieces being bought just to be looked at by people intending to get drunk. No, she preferred to sell to more fine dining places, if she had to. Besides, one of her pieces would look absolutely out of place here.

Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy some of the art that arrived in more mundane places. And this was a nice piece, truly. Abstract, but clever in a way. Even from where she sat she could see the different techniques, not just the acrylic paint but the other materials used. Was that some rotan? Her eyes narrowed. It had potential, Inge thought. Like a bored housewife had made it who could do so much more — but maybe she was just projecting now.

“Pedestrian?” Her gaze redirected to the stranger and she took a large sip of her drink, mulling over that assessment. “Gotta politely disagree with you there. It’s easy to glance at, sure, not the most complicated — but it’s hardly pedestrian. Accessible art is great, you know? This is abstract in a way where people can get into it. Plenty of ways to interpret, and, if you ask me, excellent use of color.”

Swing and a miss Marcus thought to himself. At least he gave it a try. Maybe he hadn’t made a complete ass of himself? Judging by her reaction it didn’t seem like a completely uninformed take, just one that she disagreed with. He figured it shouldn’t be hard to recover. Still, she definitely seemed to know what she was talking about.

“Oh of course. It’s very… colorful. I like how the brush strokes really cover the canvas. I suppose you’re right, accessibility is always a good thing, right?” Marcus looked more closely at the piece. The colors definitely seemed to represent something but what? Was there meant to be a clear answer? Was that the point, that there was no point? Or that there were multiple points?

Marcus didn’t really know how to interpret the piece. Not wanting to put his foot in his mouth again, he asked “and what’s your interpretation of it?”

The best thing about art was its subjectivity. There was no such thing as bad art (though there was such a thing as bad artists, Inge thought) at the end of the day, even if a person might dislike a piece greatly. Some of her work had been met with lukewarm reviews, but there had always been at least one person who had gotten enjoyment out of it. Disagreeing with a stranger on a piece of art in a bar was fun.

She gave a nod of the head, “Certainly. And that’s not to say that there is art out there that’s meant for more intermediary or expert art observers, but still! A Rothko here would be out of place.”

He asked for her opinion and her gaze moved from the canvas to him. “I see a mother and her daughter, perhaps faintly. It’s such an easy concept to interpret in a multitude of ways, you know? But there, the larger and then —” Her finger moved to another blob of paint, “The smaller. The rest could be whatever. I’m not sure yet.” Inge looked at him. She had no idea what the artist’s intention had been and didn’t care for now. “What about you?”

Marcus, predictably, had no idea what a Rothko was. An artist? Some sort of alien species? Then she gave her own interpretation. A mother and her child. While he could certainly kind of see what she was talking about after pointing out the different sized blots of paint, it seemed like a stretch. Still, the woman next to him certainly seemed to derive more meaning from the piece than he did. And he had to admit, seeing it from her perspective definitely allowed him to actually make some sense of the piece.

Figuring he couldn’t steal her answer, he decided to come up with an interpretation on the spot. He always considered himself a more literal person, so interpretation of abstract thought and design weren’t exactly his forte. He swore they should use these pieces to replace Rorschach tests, because of all of the different answers people could give you. He analyzed the piece very carefully, looking for something.

He suddenly remembered tagging along with his mother to art galas when he was a young boy, trying to distract himself as she talked to her snobbish friends about one technique or another. Still, he did remember what was discussed, and could use a thing or two from those discussions. It also helped that he took an art appreciation class in high school, which could give him a few more tools to interpret with. He got a C in that class, but still, good enough.

“The different sized blots of ink could also represent growth. One person, but at different points of their life. The interesting thing to try to figure out is, which way are they growing? Positively or negatively? The light colors towards the top of the canvas can represent happiness, but is the subject growing towards or away from the light?”

Once he started, he just sort of kept going. He had decided on an interpretation and his brain just sort of ran with it the rest of the way. And the best part was he didn’t pull any of it out of his ass, he was speaking genuinely about it. He was impressed with himself, and he turned to face the woman next to him hoping that he had impressed her as well.

Interpreting art was something Inge could do for an incredible amount of time. Sometimes she’d use the astral plane to her advantage, making her way to galleries in the larger cities of the continent to stare at the art and make them fit her own vision. There was no error to be had with interpretation. Sure, the academic world would say there was such a thing, but she found it all rather elitist. Art was for the viewer.

And even when people spoke complete bullshit, it was still somewhat thought through. That was why it nice that there was no plate next to this artwork: there was no title to go off, no artist’s name to Google for context. Here it was, this singular piece. Not the best she’d ever seen, but intriguing. Of course Inge saw a mother and a child, because she saw mothers with children everywhere except in the mirror. In the mirror was only the mother, childless.

Without the other knowing it or her, she’d given him a piece of her soul by offering his interpretation. So she could only hope the answer he’d give her was as truthful as hers had been. “Interesting, I like that. The lightness could apply on my interpretation too, if you don’t mind. Maybe the child is moving forward, further than the parent.”

Inge took a long sip of her drink after that statement. “Whether it’s growing towards it or not is all up to you,” she said. Art was also freedom. Maybe she’d paint again, when coming home. “Or maybe it’s teaching us that there is no use in putting value on growth. All growth can be good and bad? Hm. Makes you think.”

He almost couldn’t believe it. Here was Marcus having an intellectual conversation with a complete stranger over what certain flecks of paint on a canvas meant. Although he had to admit that he found himself to be very engaged in the conversation. Maybe he had an interest in this sort of thing after all. His interpretation really just sort of blurted out, he barely even thought of the words before he spoke them. Perhaps it was him projecting his own experiences and emotions onto what he saw on the canvas. He figured that probably lent credence to his suggestion of using modern art as Rorschach tests.

He thought of her interpretation of the child moving beyond the parent, and thought of his own mother and father. He was finally able to get in contact with them, assured by William that the brass presumed him to be dead and were no longer making efforts to find him. Not that Marcus trusted what he had to say, but figured he wouldn’t risk coming to Marcus and boldly making his presence known if he felt there was a risk he’d get caught up in some military manhunt. They were relieved to have the confirmation that he was alive and well, but never really had their doubts.

“My son drowning at sea?”, his mother said. “Honestly I had to fight to keep a sad expression on my face when they came to our door to say that.”

“What were you thinking?! I thought we told you not to be so careless, that pelt is your lifeline! And you let somebody steal it?” His father was not quite as warm about the situation.

They expressed sympathy for his situation and relief that he was, relatively speaking, okay. He missed home, and once again he saw himself projecting himself onto the canvas. The child grows beyond the parent. Here he was, brave new world. Uncharted waters. Still unsure, is this growth more good than it is bad? Or is it an even split?

He looked at the woman next to him again.

“I definitely know what you mean. Life isn’t a perfect black and white. It’s a collection of grays. Who’s to say the light is even a good thing?”

She kept thinking about the mother and child herself, thinking of little Vera in her then-mortal arms. Inge’s world had been so limited back then, in that house she shared with Hendrik — her center of the universe had been nothing but that bundle of joy. And she had loved her, deeply, and she had worried for her, deeply.

Vera had come from her (and Hendrik, but he mattered so little to her, that brutish and horrible man) and had made a life on this world that was her own. Inge knew she hadn’t been the best mother, that there had been a distance forced between herself and her daughter because of her own selfishness, because of her transformation into something more-than-human. Like the shapes, they stopped standing together at some point. Vera had left and Inge had not begged her to stay, and somehow it had made things better between them.

Because when Vera had gone her own way in the world, attending university and bursting with ambition. From a distance, her daughter had been so admirable and beautiful. From a distance, Inge could at least see that Vera would have a better time than she had in her twenties, even if she would one day outgrow her.

Perhaps that’s what the stranger was getting at. Maybe Inge was the smaller shape, infinitely young whereas her daughter’s body grew older than her own ever got to be. Sometimes, the child outgrew the mother.

She downed her drink, raised a hand to order another round, “You want one, too?” She didn’t often get filled with remorse or grief, but it hit her now. Inge reshifted her focus on the words the other had spoken, nodding. “We need both. That’s the truth in art as well as life. No use in things being good or light when there’s no bad or darkness.” She extended her hand, “I enjoyed this. My name is Inge.”

Marcus could see the woman in front of him was deep in thought. Maybe this was starting to take on a personal meaning for her too, just as it had for Marcus. Maybe she was thinking of her own parents, and her relationship with them. He hoped that that relationship wasn’t strained in any way.

“Yes please, I’d love another round.” Usually Marcus didn’t drink much when he went out, but tonight he decided to have a few more than usual.

He shook the woman’s hand, “Marcus” he replied back. “Very nice to meet you, I’m definitely enjoying this conversation too. It’s crazy what you can take away from just some shapes on a canvas. I think I might’ve misjudged it a little at first.”

He found himself curious about the woman next to him. He knew what his personal connection to the piece was, but what was hers?

“So, what’s your story, Inge?”

After ordering both of them another round, she returned her focus to the stranger in front of her. His face soon gained a name and she smiled. “Marcus. Nice to meet you.” Funny, that he admitted that he’d misjudged the painting. Inge was glad to have pushed his mind a little, and found herself attributing it all completely to herself.

Her fingers splayed on the table, awaiting another drink and nodding. “Exactly! People are so quick to disregard abstract art, and though there can certainly be pretty shit pieces out there, it does challenge you more to look further than a renaissance painting. Which are interesting to analyze too, but leave less room for personal interpretation, hm?”

He asked for her story and she wondered what he wished to know. Of course, there was no chance of her actually telling a stranger of her past – delving in the twisted youth in a post-war country, admitting that she was actually nearly eighty rather than a sprightly thirty-something – but still. “My story, hm? Tonight, I’m just here for a drink. Besides that … I teach art, I make art and I’m a bit of a traveler. What about you?”

Ah, so that would explain how she knew so much about art and interpretation. She was a teacher after all, she must have studied the subject extensively. Suddenly Marcus felt much less…uncultured.

“I’d love to see your work some time. I’m a bit of a traveler myself, kinda have to be when you’re in the Navy. I’ve been all over but never really got to enjoy many of the places I’ve stopped at. I’ll tell you the Persian Gulf is beautiful, and probably a lot nicer when people aren’t trying to drop bombs on top of you.” He chuckled a bit, trying to throw some humor into a confession he admitted was pretty dark.

He couldn’t help but notice that there was still a bit of mystery. For tonight, just here for a drink. I guess he could say the same for himself. He decided not to press his new acquaintance for any further details. He had learned that if somebody doesn’t talk about something readily, it’s for good reason.

“Nowadays, I do maintenance at the lighthouse, keep an eye out for any stranded ships or drowning swimmers. Figure I should put my good swimming ability to good use.”

“Who knows, maybe you will be able to soon. There’s always two pieces of mine on the campus, though,” she said, not saying out loud that she was in talks with MuertArte, as it would certainly count as jinxing it if she were to say she was in talks with them. Inge smiled, still, “I’m more of a sculptor myself, though. Less abstract, too.”

Ah, the navy. A little disappointing, she thought, and not just because the navy tended to work on the sea which Inge despised due to its high salt levels. “Ah, I tend to avoid locations where people drop bombs on me personally. Not joining the navy has been very useful in that goal thus far.” She chuckled.

When she was about to ask if he was in the navy now – and if so, why the hell he was in Wicked’s Rest – he revealed himself to work at the lighthouse. “Ah, so no more bombs, hm? Just all the other weird stuff this town has to offer.”

She took a long sip of her drink. “Are you not too high up to rescue any drowning swimmers, though? What happens when you’re up there and someone starts screaming for help? Do you run down all those stairs? Or … slide like a fireman?”

Marcus was pleased the woman next to him joked back with him. He always used humor to make light of his experiences at war, and some people found that to be in poor taste. It always felt like they were trying to be offended on his behalf even though he was the one who made the joke in the first place.

“Not joining in the first place is good advice, where were you 12 years ago?” Marcus said, gesturing towards Inge with his glass.

She had a point about his ability to rescue drowning swimmers. A normal person wouldn’t be able to dive from those heights and swim efficiently enough to rescue someone drowning. It would be far more likely that they’d end up drowning along with the victim.

“We had a pretty firm ‘no man left behind’ policy on my ship.” Except for when it came to his own overboard occurrence of course, although their lack of investigation was to his benefit. “If somebody went overboard, every man on that ship was trained to dive down from a great height safely and retrieve their comrade from the water. A lot of the coastline around Wicked’s Rest is much less forgiving than the smooth surface of a ship, but I make do. I actually went to the state finals in high school for high diving!” Surprisingly, he hadn’t won. He made it to the final round but his father encouraged him to tone things down a little so as not to appear too good. As a result, he took home second place, which he was still pleased with, but always had a hint of bitterness over not getting to enjoy his championship.

“Do you get many students?” he asked her, changing the subject

Where was she twelve years ago? Drowning her sorrows in other people’s nightmares. Sick with grief in Europe. Wishing she was human for the first time in decades just so she could sleep for a while, close her eyes and drift off. But that was hardly a suitable answer. To explain that she’d had an adult daughter who had died then — well, it was a little too much baring of the soul. Revealing, too. Inge didn’t look like someone who’d had a child in her thirties.

“Italy. I was an artist-in-residence in the north, it was quite lovely.” Not an entire lie. She’d been going by a different name then, her art had been ugly in its rage. Grief bended and collapsed time, sure, but so did immortality. Inge took a long sip from her drink. Fuck this question. “A lot colder than you might expect.”

She was glad he went on about diving from large heights, the distraction it offered from her own past (which was often romanticized and thought of highly, with some exception like now). “Ah, sure — but a lighthouse, is that not much higher than the largest diving board? I’m not sure, I haven’t gone swimming in quite some time.” She missed swimming in the sea. The few memories she had of the ocean as a mortal (going to the coast with Hendrik and Vera for a week during summer, getting sunburned and salty) were vague, and yet she longed. Shit, she was getting nostalgic. “That’s cool, though. What’s the highest you’ve ever dived from?”

Inge nodded. “A fair few. I don’t just teach sculpting, and a lot of them like to take an art class even if it’s not their major. Seems we all need some art, hm? What'd you go to college for?”

Marcus wasn’t really expecting her to answer where she was 12 years ago, he meant the question rhetorically. Still, traveling around northern Italy couldn’t have been easy, even with all of the charm that came along with it.

“Well, if you’re going to practice your artistic skills, I’m sure the home of the renaissance is the best place to be!” He had never toured over there personally, he never had a reason to. But he had been along the mediterranean once and could agree that the view was breathtaking.

“You can dive from surprisingly high with the right technique. You can see videos online of people jumping off of high rocky cliffs taller than the one the lighthouses sit on, you just have to land properly. Also, I do climb down a bit to the ground before jumping, that cuts down on height a lot. I’d say the highest would be from a cliff face back home, also one that was home to a lighthouse. That must have been 150 feet up. I ended up so deep underwater, I thought for sure I’d drown.” Marcus added, trying to come across as if he actually could drown.

“I started college going for my BA in History, but ended up with a DO instead. Meaning, I dropped out.” Marcus clarified awkwardly. It was a sore spot for him, as his parents wanted the college route to work for him. He could still feel the sting of their disappointment when he told them. They were afraid when he chose to join the navy instead, fearing for his life and the secrecy of his own identity as well as that of his family.

“Ah well,” Marcus said after a pause. “College isn’t for everybody, right? I still did okay for myself. It sounds like we both did.” And with that Marcus tilted his glass towards Inge’s, signaling an impromptu toast to both of their relative success.

Something, unbeknownst to her, had gotten lost in translation. Inge didn’t think herself prone to such things, however, and thus she didn’t think further than to consider the other’s question strange and forward. That it caused her to do some bitter reflection was on him, too, she found.

“Certainly, though I’m not fully sure if it’s the most inspiring place I’ve ever been,” she said, and it was said a little smugly. Being well-traveled was something Inge was glad for, even proud of. Italy had been where one of her favorite exhibitions had been, when her work had represented Switzerland. That had been twenty years ago, though, when life had been different. It was pre-Vera, rather than post, which was how all of life was separated. Everything was pre- or post a death. Her own, Sanne’s, Vera’s. They were the pillars of her existence.

She nodded at the explanation, “Sure, but isn’t there rocks under a lighthouse, right? Isn’t there a large chance you fall onto those rather than into the waves?” It would be thrilling to dive from such a high place, Inge thought. Maybe she should seek more exhilaration through human adrenaline-chasing ways. Not by jumping into the ocean, though. “ A hundred and fifty feet, holy Jesus!” She let out a laugh. “That’s impressive. Must’ve taken a while to come back up.”

He was right, of course: college wasn’t for everybody. Inge found the confines of academia stifling at times, even as a professor. She wasn’t intending to return to teaching when she’d inevitably ditch this town and find something else to do. “ It sure isn’t. We rely on those pieces of paper too much.” She had learned most of her skills through other means, anyway, even if going to university back in the day had been freeing. She lifted her glass, tilted it towards him, “It seems we did. Cheers to that.”

Marcus had grown to enjoy the conversation, but felt the night was getting late.

“I agree. Some papers with our names on them and some fancy titles or letters next to our name don’t define our worth.”

He found the statement a bit hypocritical of him to say. After all, isn’t a soldier’s value tied to badges and ranks? Was the hierarchy there any different than in the drudgery of academia? Maybe they had experience in more similar fronts than he had initially thought. The top brass of the military could share many similarities to a university’s administration or board.

Marcus raised his glass and met his new friend’s toast.

“Cheers. To happiness, success, and new friends. Interesting how a piece can get people talking and bring them together, isn’t it? I guess that’s part of the beauty.”

She nodded in agreement, “Exactly,” she said, placing her glass back on the table. “Art is a great equalizer, even if people want to act all high and mighty about it.” Inge thought about her current job and how annoyingly elitist academia could be. She’d trade it for something else soon enough.

She took a long sip from her drink, finishing the glass and letting the empty vessel rest against the wood of the table. “It was nice to meet you …” She waited to receive his name, and then extended her hand to make the introduction official. “I’m Inge.”

The hour was getting late, though — at least it was for the non-nocturnal humanoids, and with drinks finished, it seemed the meeting was coming to a natural close all the same. With names and even more personal things exchanged, though, Inge was genuine when she told the other, “Thank you for your company tonight. I’ll see you around.”

#threads.#art is subjective.#marcus.#this was SO FUN tyler tysm!!#i love how deep it got

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injestedsoap · 6 months

Text

Graves Likes Soap

Chapter four is up on ao3!

Swim

The river had a big sign that declared it was unsafe to swim in due to sewage run off and high pollutants. Soap had heard multiple Shadows call it Shit River. How on god’s green earth he got lucky enough to dive face first into it to avoid enemy fire he had no idea.

Soap threw himself off of the bridge and started swimming, foul warm water splashing into his eyes and nose and mouth. He dove under as bullets hailed around him and moved through the water as quick as his tact vest, gun, and heavy boots would allow. He pulled up under a hollow log and took a quick gulp of fetid air before diving back down and swimming to the RV point.

He dragged himself up out of the water to peals of laughter, “Have a good swim, Scottie?” one of the shadows asked. They all looked dry. He pushed himself up wet everything weighing him down as he steadied himself.

“Johnny,” He looked up, Ghost was cutting through the pack to get to him, “Alright, Johnny?”

Soap didn’t trust himself to open his mouth, his stomach was churning.

“Did you swallow shit water, Johnny?”

Soap punched him as hard as his shaking arm would allow, his stomach cramping violently.

“MacTavish!”

Not now, please god not now.

“You know what I always say,” Graves didn’t get close enough to him to slap his back which was a small mercy, “Nothing like a cold beer after a swim.” He held out a can of beer and for some reason that was all the prompting Soap’s body needed. He grabbed a hold of Ghost to steady himself and threw up all over Graves’ boots.

“Shit, man,” Graves laughed as Soap dug his fingers into Ghost’s arm, sweat dripping down his face as he heaved everything up in his body. “Yeah that’s probably a good idea, you wanna come back to the Shadow base, wash the shit off ya?”

“No!” Soap choked out, not even caring how that sounded as he took the moment’s reprieve to stagger over to a less crowded spot and continue emptying his stomach.

“Yeah , Johnny’s right,” he heard Ghost say, “He needs a change of clothes and all.”

“We can get him some Shadow fatigues, I’m sure we have some in his size lying around.”

“Johnny, do you want to wear Shadow fatigues? Throw up once for no.”

Soap gripped the side of the SUV he was leaning against and threw up so hard he started coughing.

“Right, see,”

Soap could hear the scowl in Graves voice, “You know, Ghost , MacTavish is a grown man and he doesn’t need you deciding where he goes and what he does.”

“I’m not,” Ghost’s voice was low in his throat, “Man said ‘no’, you just won’t fucking shove off.”

Soap throwing up so violently he choked and banged his head against the side of the vehicle seemed to break up the argument and Ghost strode over. “Swallow it, Johnny boy, let’s get you back.”

Soap nodded, blinking away tears and sweat, he was shaking, trying to avoid leaning against Ghost so as not to get him wet and dirty. Ghost just wrapped an arm around his waist, tugging him in to steady as they walked. Ghost did not take them back to the Jeep, instead steering them to a truck, dropping the bed, and gently pushing Soap toward it. “Go on, lay down, don’t want to get your seat in the Jeep wet.”

It was a good thing Soap was still at risk of throwing up because otherwise he’d be kissing Ghost right now.

“Don’t hit bumps.” He managed, collapsing into the truck bed.

“Spoil sport.” Ghost replied, closing the bed and hopping into the driver’s seat.

The moment they arrived back at their small base Soap stripped outside the officer’s quarters he shared with Ghost, leaving his clothes in a heap next to the door. He kicked off his underwear as well. Any other time he’d be very aware of the fact that he was naked in front of Ghost but right now he just wanted to get out of his vomit and sewage covered clothes. He staggered into the building, made a beeline for the bathroom, and shut the door, laying his cheek on the blessedly clean toilet seat. He had just a moment to take a steadying breath before his stomach rebelled again and he was throwing up whatever else he had inside of him which, at this point, was just pink bile.

After about a half hour he coughed, finally feeling empty, and pushed himself to his feet. He leaned heavily against the sink, looking at his tear streaked face in the mirror and wondered if he was deluded enough to convince himself that Ghost hadn’t heard everything.

Probably not.

Soap took a slow breath and brushed his teeth before slouching into the shower. He turned it as hot as it would go and let himself be scalded as he scrubbed himself near raw trying to get himself as clean as possible. He stood under the shower head, letting the hot water burn his already red skin as he breathed.

At last Soap slowly stepped out of the shower, reaching for the scratchy standard issue towel and drying himself in slow careful motions. He wrapped it around his waist and opened the door.

The whole building felt chilled.

Soap made for his bag, ready to dig through it for a change of clothes when he saw a small pile sitting in the middle of his bunk. There was a pack of black boot socks, a bottle of Calpol, a toothbrush and paste, a box of saltine crackers, and a set of white fuzzy socks with ducks on them. Soap picked up the duck socks and noticed a note; in small, cramped handwriting it said ‘sports drink and ginger ale in the fridge’

“You look like a newborn, did you scrub all your skin off?”

Soap looked up from the note at Ghost, “You got me socks.”

“‘Wet socks,’” Ghost said in an over the top Scottish accent, “‘Nothin’ I hate more than wet socks in boots, I’m gonna have bloody blisters’’.” Soap knew what he was talking about instantly, a time they had been made to tromp three miles through a marsh and he had, indeed, gotten angry red blisters from it.

“You think ducky socks will help?”

Soap was too tired, his smile too open and earnest, Ghost just heaved a loud sigh and began walking toward him. For one insane moment Soap thought Ghost was going to yank his towel away and ravish him. Instead Ghost walked past him, heading for the small kitchen area, “You want the Gatorade or the ginger ale?” Ghost asked, “Old lady at the store said that’s what you are supposed to get for upset stomachs, told her the Calpol should be enough, but she insisted.”

“Um,” Soap’s head was starting to swim a bit, from standing and blood flow distribution “Ginger ale,”

“Alright,” Ghost looked back at him through the doorway, “Well go get changed, I’m not giving you nothing if you’re going to stand around naked.”

Soap nodded and grabbed a change of clothes, he wavered for a moment before also grabbing the duck socks and heading back to the bathroom.

Ghost was sat on his bed waiting when Soap returned, warmer in his bed clothes and socks. Ghost was mostly dressed down, the blackout paint around his eyes as scrubbed off as it ever was, and the mask… Soap did his best not to smile or stare too much. It wasn’t often he saw Ghost without his typical skull hood and the balaclava he was wearing looked… well it looked right cozy, not that he’d ever say that.

“It’s rude to stare, come here and sit,”

Soap did as he was told, sitting on the bed while Ghost opened the bottle of ginger ale and handed it across to him. Soap was too charmed to complain, settling back into his pillow to sip the drink. Ghost waited for him to finish before offering him a cracker which Soap accepted. He did need to get something back on his stomach.

“Better?” Ghost asked, his hand resting on Soap’s ankle, thumb rubbing along the top of the fuzzy sock.

Soap looked at him, his cozy balaclava, his blue eyes, soft with a concern Soap knew no one but him saw. He took another sip of the ginger ale and wiggled his toes in the soft socks, “Better.”

#HEY SOAP THROWS UP IN THIS #NO BUT SERIOUSLY SOAP THROWS UP IN THIS IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THAT PLEASE BE WARNED #soap #ghost #cod fan fic #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghoap #ghoap fan fiction

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the-letter-horror-lover · 2 years

Text

Outlander: Noah's Ark

Vellamo1

Work Text:

Boring.......

I was sitting in the Phantomhive townhouse on an evening at the end of January, trying to teach Soma how to play Black Maia.

The Earl and Sebastian had gotten tickets from the Queen to a traveling circus called Noah's Ark, and instead of getting to enjoy the show with them, I spent my time trying to explain to the teenager that he couldn't deal me more cards than I had in my hand.

I felt unfairly treated, even though I realized I was being childish.

I loved the circus.

The highlight of the year had always been the moment in the summer when Circus Finlandia set up its tent on the sand of the local sports field, and the smell of popcorn and sawdust wafted into the surroundings.

For years, due to the law, animals were no longer allowed to be taken on tours, but watching acrobats, clowns, magicians and other performers sounded like an escapist experience, the power of which continued with the monthly trade in the grayness of everyday life.

No matter, even though I was an adult.

When the band started, and the lights dimmed, I was once again that kid who saw a tightrope walker for the first time.

The magic didn't fade, despite the years.

Soma, once again, swiped his cards across the table.

"I can't stand this, there's no excitement here," he would say.

"The game could be more exciting if you played by the rules and didn't cheat to win," I reminded and gathered the card into the deck.

The prince left in the direction of his room, his faithful Agni following behind him.

I sighed.

Despite the age difference, the Earl was considerably more mature than the spoiled prince.

I didn't have to think for a second about who I'd rather spend my time with.

I went to get a glass of wine from the kitchen, and started playing solitaire while blinking at the window.

The others should be here any minute.

I hope nothing happened.

I did not know the reason why the tickets had been given, but the Queen hardly did anything without a purpose.

The watchdog had been called back to work.

….......................

Later in the evening we sat at the table and talked.

I heard about the children's abductions, and how Sebastian had gotten himself and the Earl to join the circus.

And me, as it turned out.

"As a woman, you can talk to women better than we do, and you can also get to places that we can't," explained Sebastian.

"Furthermore, an extra pair of eyes might be decisive in solving the matter," Jaarli continued.

So I got to the circus after all.

Just to one side of the edge of the manes.

…......................

The next morning dawned cold and pale.

Me and Jaarli had taken off worn pairs of clothes, unlike Sebastian who was in his tailcoat, as usual.

But where he presented what he was, that is, the butler, the Earl, or Finnian, as he introduced himself, was a servant boy and I was a nestling.

We had gathered behind the tents by the goal board, and I watched, holding back a smile, as the Earl hit the board, with Sebastian's help, every time. Luckily everyone was staring at the board and the boy, because I had a poker face to keep.

When the daggers ran out, the Earl's trial was over. A knife thrower named Dagger immediately took her into his care, and my ordeal began.

The red-haired guide wrapped his arm around my shoulder and led me and the rest of the crowd inside the tent.

“Now it's your turn, miss. Just up there,” he said, pointing to the roof of the tent.

I looked up.

I had to bend my head back in order to distinguish the rope looming at a height of twenty meters.

"Oh my god, I'd rather get into bed with you than climb up there!" i started

I slapped my palm over my mouth as a deep silence settled around me.

Oh hell, when did I learn to think first and speak later....

I can walk in a dark forest, I'm not afraid of animals or murderers and I can stand anything, but not high places! Or, well, ships, but now there was no fear of seasickness...

Just looking up made a cold sweat run down my back and my hands shake.

I can't, I can't.....

Suddenly, the teacher, Jokeri, slapped my shoulder with his bony artificial hand and burst into a roar of laughter.

"I don't know if that was a compliment or an insult, but if high places cause such great emotions in you, we can probably find you a place on the border."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well, what are you good at?", the man continued.

I think.

"I'm a pretty good darts thrower, but I can hardly beat C... uh, Finnian."

"I guess there's something else?"

"I'm pretty good with animals," I said after thinking for a moment.

"Okay then, Beast, Come here," Jokeri whined.

The busty dark-blooded stepped closer.

"The newcomer will be your assistant."

"It won't work!", the animal tamer shouted.

I looked at him searchingly.

The woman's eyes showed anger and fear.

What was he really afraid of?

For his tiger?

I had heard about Betty and Sebastian's encounter the night before, so it seemed likely, but when I saw the way Beast looked at Joker, I realized it was something more personal.

My rash statement, and the order to take me as his assistant made Beast fear for his position.

Not as an animal tamer, but in Joker's eyes.

Ouch, one-sided love is boring, even if you are just a bystander.

I felt warm sympathy for the sad-eyed woman.

But knowledge is power, and how it is used can solve the problem of missing children.

All the weapons that can be found are used.

After watching the duel between the animal tamer and the tiger trainer, it was clear that my new pet wouldn't be near the tiger.

It didn't bother me, because even though I like cats, I was much more aware of my vulnerability than Sebastian, who had ended up bitten. Twice.

It was easy for him to be a demon, but I would be in pieces if a 300-kilogram kitty decided that I wasn't a nice guy.

“Snake, come here,” I heard Joker call.

From the side of the tent, from the shadows, a man stepped out with two snakes on his shoulders.

As the slender figure walked closer, I felt my eyes widen.

Some of the skin on the man's face had scales, like snakes on his shoulders!

I looked up into his eyes, and saw two golden-hued, narrow-pupiled eyes, whose sad expression pierced my heart.

Man, he must have had a terrible time.

People can be so cruel to someone different.

"Snake, here's your new assistant," Joker introduced.

“I hope you get along, all of you.”

I looked the man straight in the eyes and held out my hand.

"Hey."

The man looked at my hand, and then at me, confused.

Apparently, he wasn't used to someone wanting to touch him voluntarily.

I smiled, and raised my eyebrows questioningly.

Carefully, he raised his right hand towards me.

I took her hand in mine, and pressed both my palms on either side of her hand, warming it.

“Nice to meet you, Snake. Would you introduce your friend to me?”

The man gently pulled his hand out of my grasp.

"I'm Emily - says Emily," the man said in a soft voice.

A beautiful, red-black-white-striped snake raised its head and looked towards me.

“Hey, Emily. Nice to meet you. You are very beautiful,” I said, holding out my hand, palm side up, as I always do when facing animals.

The sneaky creature reached out for my hand and flicked its tongue in the air.

"You smell good - says Emily."

"You mean I smell like a rodent?", I replied with a grin.

"No, not for the food, just for the good," says Emily.

A black-brown, larger snake raised its front body and leaned towards me.

"You really smell good, and warm," says Wilde, the man said.

"Good to hear I don't smell like food," I smiled weakly.

If I didn't know snakes wrong, the larger, male snake was a mamba.

Okay, I'm not afraid of snakes in general, but I'm not so stupid that I'm not afraid of one of the most venomous creatures in the world.

Unnoticed, I leaned back as Wilde reached for me.

"Don't be afraid, we don't bite unless we're told to - says Wilde", the man reassured me as the snake hissed near his ear.

I wanted to believe that the little animal was laughing at my reaction.

"Good, that's clear then," said the director.

"Do you know anything else useful?"

I thought about it while Emily wrapped her arms around me.

"He's a good dancer," I heard from behind me.

Sebastian.

I turned to look.

"Party dances are hardly suitable for the circus," I said, wondering about his motivations.

"I didn't mean couple dances. You can dance more than that."

I watched in confusion as he began humming;

"You are silky, in my arms..."

I bent my head towards the ceiling and burst out laughing.

"So it was you, you bloody bastard. Damn voyeur!

The Joker looked at us confused for a moment, but then nodded.

"Okay, let's see. Dance for us.”

I stepped onto the carpeted part of the manes, dropped my coat in a pile on the ground and kicked off my shoes.

“Music, maestro,” I grinned at Sebastian, who began humming the swinging melody of a reggae song.

"If the success of the job depends on this, you will get all the money for it", I thought and let it burn.

…...............

When I finished, panting slightly and my abs tender, I saw my audience looking at me wide-eyed.

"Damn, how he moves!"

"Not bad, not bad at all!"

"When I'm good, I'm good, but when I'm bad, I'm even better," I grinned and blew a kiss to the knife thrower named Dagger.

If the men really only had enough blood for one place at a time, the guy should sit down as soon as possible.

There was no more blood in his head.

I chuckled to myself as I bent down to pick up my jacket.

I may not be able to talk to real snakes, but I can charm men's snakes.

A place in the circus was a sure thing, besides, men easily talk out of their mouths when trying to impress a woman.

Kill two birds with one stone.

Also, I had an almost inappropriate amount of fun.

As I walked over to Jarl and Sebastian, I felt Joker's gaze following me.

I glanced at the animal tamer, and felt cold shivers down my spine.

If looks could kill...

As we walked outside the tent with the group, I searched Sebastian's gaze with mine.

"The animal tamer is in love with the Joker, but there's no reciprocation," I thought as loudly as possible.

"Maybe there's a hole in it that you can drive a wedge into."

I saw Sebastian nod lightly.

He would make his move when the moment was right.

I would do the same.

…...........................

Outside the tent, Jokeri called the whole party together.

"Listen everyone! We have new friends joining us today!”

"Here's newcomer Black...."

“I'm Black. Nice to meet you."

"...beautiful Serpent...."

I did.

A fitting name.

And I wasn't afraid to be toxic when necessary.

"......and the little one is Smile!"

I laughed at the Earl's expression and realized I wasn't the only one.

"Ha-fun to meet..."

"Hey, smile now, Smile!"

….....................

We followed the Joker through the area.

"I will introduce you to a few places. Follow behind.”

"First of all, you sleep in these tents," the man said, pointing to a row of simple canvas tents.

"Assistants, backup performers and newcomers live here. Usually two people live in one tent."

We continued along the path between the tents.

"There is a dining tent and a food storage tent."

"You newcomers also cook the sapuskas, so do your best."

"There is a first aid tent at the far end, which Black already knows."

We stopped next to the area separated by the rope.

"And this is where the main performers' private tents begin."

"Privates?", the earl asked.

"Well, when you're successful, you get your own tent," Jokeri said.

"Oh yes", the man pointed to the big tent looming in front.

“That's Snake's tent. You men stay away from it, for your own good. And Serpent, you shouldn't go there without Snake either. There are a large number of venomous snakes on the loose. You will end up in the afterlife in one bite.”

"Snake and his sneaky friends are really shy. So let them be alone," the director continued.

"By the way, Smile, what happened to your right eye?"

"What?"

"Oh this... it was an accident..."

"It's sad that such a young person has suffered such a great loss," Jokeri said, caressing the young man's cheek with his skeletal hand.

"Well, everyone here has their own problems, so you fit in just fine."

"Up..."

"Does everyone join the troupe when the circus goes around, like we do?", I asked.

"Most, but all the main performers are from the same place. You could say that we are childhood friends", Jokeri explained while we walked back towards the screening tent.

"Childhood friends?", Sebastian repeated.

"Yes. But Snake is still a newcomer. He knows how to handle snakes brilliantly, and we didn't have a snake charmer, so he was made a member right away."

"If you get among the headliners, you don't have to prepare for the shows or fight over food. You also get your own tent. That's why everyone is doing their best to get to the top", Jokeri finished his explanation as we entered the tent through the doorway.

…......................

"Well, this is what you've been waiting for!", the Joker announced loudly.

"I will report to the newcomers' room. As a result of an unbiased draw, Smile is in tent 8. Here is your roommate,” Jokeri said, pointing to a young, freckled boy.

"And Black is in tent 9."

The announcement triggered a flurry of objections.

I understood the Jarl's sentiment very well. Separated from Sebastian, both were unable to move, as their roommates would see everything.

But crying in the market didn't help.

Sebastian ended up in the same tent with a sparkly-looking tightrope dancer called Suit. The man looked like he was born with a clothes hanger inside. The guy took the adjective "stiff" to completely new dimensions.

Good luck...

Then I.

"And Serpent.... Do you want to sleep in Snake's tent, or do you prefer to sleep elsewhere?"

"Preferably elsewhere. While I don't have anything against snakes, I don't want them in my bed, especially if I smell as good as Emily and Wilde said,” I announced.

Joker grinned at me and looked at the paper he was holding.

"There are no other living tents available, but there is a utility tent next to tent number nine that can accommodate a bed. You can use it yourself, even if you are a newcomer," the man announced.

Good. At least I had more freedom.

Men wouldn't be able to do it.

…............

The night was already dark when I finally got the bunk bed assembled and the bedding in place. I grabbed a couple of extra blankets from the supply store, because the air was cold in winter, and the tent was heated by nothing but my own body heat.

I sat outside the tent on top of a wooden box and smoked, while listening to the sound of the noise coming from tent number 9.

If I understood correctly, floor space was shared there.

I chuckled to myself.

The pleasure of injury is ugly, but delicious.

I think Sebastian deserved a bit of discomfort after revealing his spying and putting me in an embarrassing situation.

Although it ended in my favor in the end.

I turned my back to the newcomers' tents, and looked over the rope in the direction of the private tents.

People were returning to their tents and going to sleep.

A curvy dark figure turned towards me and I felt cold shivers down my spine.

Beast.

A familiar figure closer to me walked towards his tent with two thin figures on his shoulders.

I raised my hand in greeting, and saw Snake respond to my gesture with a nod.

Then he too disappeared into the furrows of his tent.

I sighed and looked up at the sky.

The winter sky was pitch black and the clouds covered almost all the stars from view.

The moon had not yet risen from behind the horizon, and outside the lanterns the air was dark as ink.

I heard the sand crunch as someone walked up to me.

I glanced over my shoulder and recognized the spiky-haired figure of the Joker.

Without saying a word, I offered my cigarette case and felt him take one.

The lantern clattered as he took the fire from the candle.

"Aren't you freezing out here?", I heard him ask.

"No worse than inside," I answered.

I didn't talk shit. The air was only a few degrees above zero, and there was no fireplace in the tent. Fortunately, it was tight after all, and the door flap was able to close properly.

Otherwise, I would definitely freeze before morning.

"Go get glowing coals from the hearth in the kitchen tent in a metal box. You can warm the bedding with it, and you can leave it on your feet overnight," Jokeri advised.

I smiled at him gratefully.

A warm man would have been a much nicer bedmate than a can of coal, but I wasn't picky.

Warm feet were higher on my list of requirements.

Sighing, I stubbed out my cigarette and headed for the kitchen tent.

I only got a couple of steps before I felt a grip on my arm.

The Joker turned my face towards him.

"Thanks for the cigarette," he said hoarsely, flicked my cheek with his prosthesis and turned to walk in the direction of the private tents.

I continued my journey in the opposite direction, smiling.

…..............

"Wake-up!!!"

I jumped to my seat and almost fell from my narrow butt.

After blinking for a while, I recognized a freckled face standing in the doorway.

“Get up and hurry to the kitchen tent. The newcomers do the cooking, remember. Give it a shot and you'll have time to get something in your stomach too!"

I muttered a few choice words and began to fan my suit.

I had slept in my woolen petticoat because of the cold, and thanks to the jar of kibble that Joker had recommended, my night had been quite pleasant. If strange sounds and narrow, loud punk didn't count.

But you can't have everything.

I jogged towards the kitchen tent while straightening my hair. People were on the move, I saw yawning faces and smelled the smoke as the fireplaces were lit.

In the kitchen, I immediately got an apron in front of me, and I was told to take care of the tea. Probably thirty litres. The container reminded me of a samovar and I decided on a crossbreeding, but luckily a young woman making bread dough next to me was shouting instructions as I rushed between the water barrel and the cupboards. This drink could not be called gourmet even with the best of intentions, but it was hot and with the sugar it sank into its half-asleep drinkers like carbon monoxide.

About forty people accompanied the circus, at least what could be deduced from the number of dishes. A constant stream of hungry people passed from the serving counter to the tables, and I was busy enough to keep the tea canister full and collect the dirty dishes. However, the good thing about working near the stove was that I could eat food in my mouth at the same time, and I didn't have to wait to finish my chores.

"Hey, did you hear what that new boy did?" I heard the baker ask.

"Who, Smile?" I answered.

"Yes, he managed to peel the potatoes to shreds, but the other new guy, the one in black, fried the shreds and the fish left over from yesterday. This is really good, taste it" said the woman, offering her plate.

Hmm, it also became clear how old the dish fish&chips is...

I gulped down a mouthful of greasy deliciousness, and smiled with my eyes closed.

This was really good.

"Good morning, ladies," came Joker's greeting.

I swallowed hard and wiped my mouth.

"Morning, I hope you slept well," I replied with a smile.

"Thank you, great. What about yourself, did the night go well?"

"Obviously. Thanks for the advice, I would have been in trouble otherwise,” I grinned.

"I am always ready to help a damsel in distress. Beautiful women should not be allowed to suffer from a cold bed", the man grinned back, and accepted the plate filled by my companion.

The baker looked at me askance, and I hastened to explain:

"She advised me to get bread rolls from the hearth in a metal jar, and warm the bed with it. I sleep in a utility tent, and it would have been terribly cold otherwise."

"The Joker has an eye for pretty girls. Take care that he doesn't get you into trouble," the woman warned.

Thanks for the advice.

If anyone was going to get someone in trouble, it would be me.

And it seemed like the Joker would be easy prey.

He may have been a ladies' man, but I knew how to be a man-eater.

…..................

“Bow down, I'll tie your laces,” a trapeze artist named Wendy instructed me.

"Why do I have to wear these clothes, I'm not even performing today," I moaned as the child-sized woman laced the back of my top.

The dark green lamé fabric barely covered my chest, and the skirt made of strips only reached the mouth of my fishnet stockings. I felt naked, which was not at all pleasant in the January weather.

Embarrassment is one thing.

Frostbite is another.

“You have to get used to these clothes as if they were your second skin. That's it, little by little," Wendy comforted.

Maybe I could find a clue somewhere.

Or even a scarf...

.............

I sat by the wall of the tent with Snake, Emily and Wilde and watched the others practice.

The earl and the freckled face tried to get the earl to balance on the ball taller than me, but the attempts invariably ended in sawdust.

On the other hand, Sebastian did well. His balancing act had gathered a small audience around him, who shared their appreciation freely.

Emily was wrapped around my arm and I was stroking along the brightly colored snake, smooth strokes as I watched the exercises.

"You danced beautifully yesterday - says Emily" I heard Snake whisper next to me.

"Thank you. Did you like the show?", I asked the man and the other snake together.

"You dance like us - says Wilde".

"Do you mind that?" I asked worriedly.

"I'm not as smooth in my movements as you are, I have too many protrusions to control."

"I would like to dance with you - says Wilde."

"And I would like to dance with you," I replied.

"Shall I try?"

I dropped the blanket from my shoulders and reached out for Mamba to squirm up my arm onto my shoulders.

"I need music, or at least rhythm. Would you clap?”, I asked Snake.

I clapped three slow and two fast claps as a model.

As Snake and the boy who passed by and watched settled the rhythm, I closed my eyes and stretched my arms out to my sides.

Wilde, who was almost three meters tall, stretched himself the length of my arms, from wrist to wrist.

With my eyes closed, I listened to the rhythm, let myself sink into it, and began to rotate my hips in a wide figure eight.

When I felt the rhythm pulsing in my veins, I raised my other arm up, and added sharp hip lifts to the figure of eight with quick strokes.

My arms made a wide, undulating motion as Wilde swayed along, and I began chest thrusts.

Now you had to focus on what you were doing.

Both my hips, chest and arms moved, all in a different way.

I felt Wilde descend lower, wrapped around my hips and waist, and felt the snake's head sway with mine.

I opened my eyes and looked straight at the snake.

I tensed my abs and bent my upper body back.

Like a shadow, Wilde bent with me.

I went back and bent forward.

The snake bent away in front of me, and as I bent down I felt a forked tongue brush my lips.

I smiled, and bent my upper body to the side, hips and hands continuing their non-stop movement.

Wilde and I swayed from side to side, eyes locked on each other, alternately sending, alternately receding from each other, in an unbroken stream.

It had become quiet around us, only the rhythm of Snake and the boy clapping echoed in the air.

Forward, backward.

Left, right, left again.

I brought my face closer to the snake, and got a touch of the tongue.

I bent back at the waist, and felt the smooth body bend with me.

I dance as if in a trance, not as a snake charmer, but enchanted by a snake.

Finally I realized that the clapping had stopped.

I blinked, and realized that the group that had been training earlier had gathered around us, a respectful distance away.

I felt Wilde wrap around my shoulders as I looked at the crowd.

I saw admiring, frightened, lustful looks.

Behind the crowd, Sebastian leaned against a post with his arms crossed over his chest, and gave me an appreciative grin.

I smiled back.

"Well, the show is over. Back to training, everyone!” I heard a voice shout from my side.

I turned to meet the Joker's approving gaze as he eyed my body and the suit that was designed to cover as little as possible.

And Wilde, much more cautiously.

I smiled back and licked my lips.

The booty was starting to heat up.

…............

"Ugh, I can't get this, it went wrong again!", the petite trapeze artist complained.

“Wait, let me help,” I said to Wendy, and picked up the makeup brush.

I wiped the failed line with a rag and turned the girl's face better into the light.

The frenzy before the show was at its most intense, and there was an eerie buzz in the back of the tent.

People were going back and forth, putting on make-up, mending costumes, looking for some things and carrying others, talking and bustling about.

On the other side of the tent fabric, you could hear how the first people began to gather in the stands, and the musicians tuned their instruments.

The little aerial acrobat got his eyeliner, and I immediately got the next customer, when the knife thrower's assistant sat in front of me on the edge of the table.

Eventually the area went quiet and I heard the show start.

I sighed, and closed the make-up box.

If it went well, I would have time to smoke a cigarette before I was needed.

The earl and Sebastian had disappeared on their way, and I suspected that they were exploring the tents now that all the headliners were in the marquee.

I straightened my back, turned around and got my mouth full of knot.

The Joker had been standing behind me unnoticed, and now burst into laughter.

I wiped my mouth irritated.

I don't like being approached unnoticed.

I like to keep the reins firmly in my own hands, and being caught off guard is annoying.

The man raised his hand to my cheek, still smiling, and stepped closer.

I stepped back, and felt the edge of the table bite into my thigh.

I looked up at Joker's face and sat on the edge of the table, my thighs open so he could step between them, close to me.

The air between us crackled with emotion.

I raised my hand to his knot, wrapped the band around my fingers and pulled his face closer to mine.

I felt his other, prosthetic hand slide down my thigh, nipping at the mouth of my long sock.

I raised my face, and reached towards his mouth.....

Just as our lips were about to touch, the curtain flew open.

"Joker, Wendy sprained her ankle!" shouted another trapeze artist, a little man named Peter.

We sped away from each other, and the Joker rushed to the other side of the curtain with Peter after him.

I stood up with a sigh.

It had been so close.

Being interrupted was frustrating.

But it was good to move on from this.

However, I couldn't have asked anything when the possibility of being surprised was so great.

There was still time here.

And the target was ripe for the picking.

Peter and the Joker, with Wendy on their backs, rushed into the back room.

“Serpent, find Black. She has to perform for Wendy. Peter, you get Suit. You can't support Black, they have to perform together."

I ran out the back door and called Sebastian at the top of my lungs.

“Sebastian, you are needed!”

After a while, I heard running footsteps, and I directed both men into the back room, where the Joker was examining Wendy's leg.

"Serpent, take Wendy to the Doctor," Joker asked.

I nodded in response, and lifted the little woman into my arms.

The men stayed to talk while I left the tent behind me and headed to the first aid tent with my burden.

….........

I was sitting in the first aid tent watching as the Doctor treated Wendy's ankle, when Sebastian rushed in with the Earl in his arms.

The pale, sweating boy was breathing hard, and smelled of pain sweat and vomit.

I jumped out of the chair and grabbed the bandage box from the bed so Sebastian could lay the shaking boy down.

I stood silently to the side, worried, while the Doctor examined the panting youth.

"It's asthma," the Doctor announced after finishing his examination.

"Or asthma..... I haven't seen him like this in the three years I've been with him," Sebastian said.

"It must have been healing if he hasn't had a seizure in three years..." The doctor replied.

"He's had the flu two or three times, but he's never been in that condition. This was definitely due to the combined effect of many different things," Sebastian continued.

I had never seen her so worried.

“I heard he bathed with our silly bundles of muscles outside. Of course you'll catch a cold," the Doctor said just as the Earl opened his eyes.

"Great, you worked out."

"Water..." came a small voice.

"Please," Sebastian offered the shot bottle.

“Smile, you probably had severe asthma when you were younger, didn't you? You can die from it, so you have to be careful even if you think you're cured. Stay in bed until the fever and cough get better, is it clear," the doctor instructed.

"The rest of you go to your own tents," the doctor continued and hurried us on our way.

…............

I sat on a stack of packing boxes with a blanket on my shoulders, and smoked one cigarette after another.

I was worried about the young Earl.

Asthma could kill you if you didn't get medicine for it, and there were no effective medicines available at that time.

Cortisone wouldn't be invented until the late 1940s, and even though medicinal plants that dilate the bronchi were already known in ancient China, I don't think they would be available here

So I could only hope that rest and peace would see the Earl recover.

…..........

I noticed people starting to leave the main tent. The show had ended, and the performers started moving towards their own sleeping tents.

I saw how the Joker and Beast came alone, talking heatedly.

I saw Beast wrap his arms around the man, agitated, crying.

“Don't go!” I heard him plead.

The Joker untied himself, and took off his scarf, wrapping it around the woman's neck.

Beast remained standing, looking after the man as he started walking towards me.

I watched until he turned his back and began to walk stiffly toward Betty's cage, and I focused my attention on the man who walked up to me.

"Aren't you asleep yet?"

"A lonely bed is not attractive," I replied and pulled the man closer.

"Would you like me to help with that?", he whispered as our lips touched.

"Whose tent is closer?"

"Yours, but I have a bigger bed..."

…....................

The echo of the lone candle rippled across our bodies as I placed my lips on his chest.

I could see nipples on my lips, until I felt the skin tightening and the nipple coming out hard.

I listened to intermittent panting, and followed the border of the pectoral muscle down with my tongue.

"Where do you have to go?"

"To the father..."

"Take me with you," I asked as I let my hand descend lower, to touch.

"I can't, the journey is too long..."

I wrapped my hands around the silky skin.

"How long have you been gone?", I whispered, moving my hand lightly.

"Three days...." came a faint moan.

I got on top of the man and started moving.

I felt him convulse beneath me and leaned down to brush my lips against his sweaty neck.

"Which way are you going? I could come and escort....” I breathed into his ear.

"E-ete-west..."

I felt strong hands on my hips, and felt myself being rolled onto my back.

The time for talking was over.

…......................

Someone patted my cheek.

I blinked and tried to figure out where I was.

The canvas ceiling above me reminded me of last night's events, and I turned to face my alarm clock.

In the dimness of the nearly burned out candle, I made out Sebastian's face.

"I found out the name," the man whispered to me.

"Good. He lives in the south, a day and a half riding away. This information is probably enough to find him", I whispered back.

My speech startled the Joker, who turned onto his side, wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my hair, mumbling sleepily.

I smiled at his calm expression, and turned my gaze to Sebastian.

"Are you going to leave with the Earl?" I asked aloud.

"Yes. It is no longer necessary for us to stay here.”

"All right. I'm a little... stuck now, but I'll come back to the townhouse if possible. The opportunity will probably open up when the others are at breakfast."

"Take care of yourself."

"Don't worry, I always land on my feet. Or at least on someone else's feet" I thought, and I turned into the sleeping man's arms to continue my sleep.

…...............

I woke up to restless hands.

Which were not mine.

I smiled sleepily as I felt lips nipping at my neck and hands caressing my hips.

I reached out for Joker and wrapped my legs around his hips.

There were much worse ways to wake up...

…......................

“Will you come to breakfast with me?” I heard Joker ask as he helped lace up the back of my suit.

"I have to go to my tent first," I replied.

"See you at the kitchen tent, I won't stay long".

I planted a kiss on my lover's lips and went out.

There weren't many people outside.

Everyone was either eating or starting the day's exercises.

Good.

I crawled into my tent, and quickly pulled on my original clothes over the performance suit.

Fortunately, my tent was the last before the private tents, which meant I didn't have to pass the entire line of tents to get outside the area.

It was enough for me to go around the back of the tent and head straight away, whereupon I ended up on busy streets where it was easy to get a driver.

The circus was set up in southwest London, on an oval-shaped field, and the drive to the townhouse in the West End took half an hour in morning traffic.

When I entered the main door, I was immediately attacked by a panicked Soma.

"You were all gone for two days and didn't tell me anything, and I was so worried, and Ciel is in so much pain, and why are you wearing those clothes?!?"

"Rewind to the beginning and at normal speed, please. I didn't take anything from that spill", I reassured the young man who was making rounds while I took off my shabby jacket.

"Agni, is there breakfast," I called over my shoulder as I led the prince by the hand into the breakfast room.

When Soma got a cup of tea in his shaking hands, and I had a full plate in front of me, I finally understood what he was talking about.

Apparently Jaarli and Sebastian had arrived at night, and planned to leave again immediately after changing clothes.

Soma and Agni had stopped them, as the Earl was clearly very ill, which did not surprise me.

Now the Earl was bedridden, and Sebastian took care of this as best he could.

However, neither of them had agreed to tell Soma anything, and the young man, indignant at being an outsider, now tried to ask me the reason for our absence.

"Soma, these are work matters related to the Earl's position and title. They are only discussed with those who are directly affected by the matter," I announced.

Then I reached across the table to grab the young man's hand.

"I know you're worried. Ciel is happier than he knows when he has a friend like you.”

Soma sighed and looked down.

“Just take care of Ciel. He needs it, and you,” I continued, standing up.

"I'm going to take a bath and take a nap now. Will you come and wake me up when the Earl feels better?”

….................

A couple of days later I received a letter at the town hall.

The owner of the circus, Baron Kelvin, and all the founding members of the troupe had died.

So were the children we were assigned to save.

I sighed deeply, and crumpled the letter into my fist.

I felt sorry for the children.

But there is a limit beyond which there is no going back.

The earl had been able to, with Sebastian's help.

These kids didn't have that chance.

Which one do you prefer?

A quick death, or a life that would be nothing but pain and anxiety inside your head, but not necessarily outside?

I knew which one I would choose.

On the inside of my closed eyes, I could see Joker's Orange hair, and his crooked smile.

I couldn't feel sorry for him.

Both lie down and cheat.

After all, I was left with memories.

I sighed and went downstairs.

It was time for me to prepare my return to the mansion.

0 notes

sukirichi · 3 years

Text

defeat (m.)

no thoughts, just sparring with naoya in his black tee and fucking him all sweaty

cw. sweaty sex, breeding kink, naoya and his wife are both ass people, doggy style, naoya is very touchy, lame fight scenes lol, creampie, unedited and just brainrot tbh

note. in honor of naoya being a canon ass man and overall just celebrating his sexiness (plus talking to my wife about naoya genuinely awakened my breeding kink) prompted by this ask!

# part of the trophy wife collection

“Let’s train. Gym, in five minutes,” your husband commands with a playful glare. Rolling your eyes at him, you lean back to make yourself more comfortable on your seat, arms crossed over the robes to show your defiance.

It’s not every day you tease him like this, but training in the middle of the day? You’re not in the mood of it.

One quirked brow from Naoya, though – merely a premise of what is to come if you don’t follow him to the training grounds – has you switching to your yoga pants and a fit shirt to match his outfit. The whole way there, you shamelessly stare at his backside that looks enticing and begging to be squeezed, especially in his light grey sweats that cling to his thighs deliciously.

“You done staring at my ass now?”

“Nope,” you chirp, popping the ‘p’ as he begins to stretch, rolling his eyes at you when you still very much openly stare at his ass. But it’s fine, since he’s doing the same and you’re prompting him to in the first place.

Out of your extensive wardrobe that your husband spoils you with, you had to choose a pair of dark yoga pants that are hugging the outlines of your legs, your shirt barely even keeping you modest as you extend your arms side to side. You and Naoya smirk at one another, cursed energy kept brimmed to the bare minimum as to not hurt each other. Despite always being cooped up in the Zen’in Estate per Naoya’s orders (and you don’t really feel like going out anyway), neither of you doubted your skills in sparring.

Long before he met you, he’s heard of your name spoken in high esteem, another special grade one sorcerer just like he was. This fact remains even as you’re married now, and Naoya closes the gap between your bodies, his gaze directed at your lips and hands trailing up to squeeze your neck, his eyes so hazy that it seems as if he’s not entirely aware of his actions.

“My love,” you purred, clasping the wrist connected by the hand where his thumb is rubbing circles over your vein. “Are we here to train or are you too distracted?”

“A sorcerer must never be distracted.”

“So keep your eyes wide open, sweetheart,” Ducking your head under his grasp, you ram yourself into his chest where he immediately falls on the ground, the wind knocked from his chest. Naoya’s reflexes are fast before he’s up to his feet again to mimic your stance, his arrogant grin showing that he’s not that irritated by how devious you could be, using your allure as his woman to take his attention away, if only for a little bit. “You look a little tired. Want me to go easy on you, babe?”

“Don’t you dare.”

Cheater, he’s a fucking cheater! Faster than you could comprehend, Naoya already has you pinned before him, your legs locked in place with how he’s shifting his weight onto your ankles. You hated it so much every time he used his technique against you, but then again, there weren’t any rules that stopped him from doing so.

“Well?” he prompts and leans down, hovering his lips right before your ear while you pant under him. “Aren’t you going to fight back? I didn’t invite you here to be boring with me.”

Stifling a laugh, you use your strength to push him off you, and you spar heartily with your husband who seems to be in a good mood, considering the rare influx of compliments leaving his otherwise harsh tongue. It’s no easy feat as he’s skilled even without using his techniques, and the both of you are breathless by the time you’ve delivered and handled the other’s blow by blows, your palms and muscles sore.

Your husband is in no better state.

He’s struggling to catch his breath, his legs bent and his arm drawn over his knee. Naoya chuckles under his breath when you drape your sweaty arms over his back, shameless and wanting as you tap his cheek to urge him in for a kiss.

Albeit grumbling he doesn’t really want to touch you when you’re covered in sweat, he kisses you anyway, smiling before he hitches you onto his lap that you’ve proudly claimed as your throne.

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“Sometimes you forget I’m just like you, Naoya,” you rub your nose with his, foreheads pressed while you rock yourself over his groin. His eyes darken in warning, large hands coming up to knead your ass that you know he worships so much, though he makes no move to stop you, and really, he never would. “Just because I’m your precious little wife who would gladly serve you tea, doesn’t mean I won’t hesitate to hand your ass back to you.”

“Oh, will you, now?” he chuckles, “I’d like to see you try.”

“I already did.”

“Only because I let you,” Naoya mumbles on your lips, his once curious kneading now turning more intentional, more heated. “You’re funny if you think I’m letting you win against me.”

“So then why did you?”

“Because if I do, you’ll let me do this.” This refers to tearing your shirt apart, exposing your sports bra to him that is now clinging to your skin from the sweat, droplets of perspiration dripping from the tips of your hair and down to your flushed chest. Gasping from the torn material, you try to slap your husband’s destructive hands away.

“Naoya, that’s my favorite shirt!”

“Because you like the brand or you know because I go crazy every time you wear it?”

“Both, of course,” you scoff, and Naoya silences your protests by capturing your lips for another feverish kiss. A cheater, a huge, immature cheater he was – he knows so well that you get so weak every time he’s like this, and it really isn’t beyond him to exploit other’s weaknesses for his own enjoyment. And as much as you enjoyed this too, you don’t really want to fuck in a room that smells like sweat.

“Naoya,” pulling away from his sweet lips (which is a shame, really, you could’ve made out with him a lot longer), you ignored the throbbing he’d caused deep within your core. “My love, if you want to fuck me, you should take me back to the room.”

“You’re ordering me around now?”

“You will take me to the room,” you repeated firmly, dragging him down by the collar to force him to look at you. “Be mean all you want, but at the end of the day we both know you want to be buried inside me.”

“You’re not any better, wife,” he remarked, and he squeezes your sensitive breasts as if to prove a point. “At the end of the day, we both know you want me deep inside your tight cunt.”

“So then let’s help each other out.”

Ordering him around was one thing, but compromise? Naoya is a man capable of it, he just doesn’t like to show it because he doesn’t want people questioning his power. Your husband who is mostly anger and greed, his mind clouded by the need to always be better than others, shifts a little just for you as he carries you in his arms, your legs wrapping around his slender waist like second nature.

Naoya must’ve been so eager that you’re back in your room in a flash, with your back bouncing on the mattress and him stripping above you.

“No!” you insist and stop him, “Keep the shirt on. Please?”

“What the fuck for? It’s sweaty and sticky.”

“Exactly, and you look sexy like that.”

“Fucking filthy,” he scolds, but keeps the shirt on anyway and lets you roll it back to his waist. His pants, however, they need to be off. Your husband watches with unmasked interest as you push the band of his pants until you’re throwing it somewhere on the room. In return, you shimmy out of your yoga pants that are now uncomfortably pressed to your skin, discarding all forms of clothing that irritated you. Settling down on the bed, you spread your legs right beside his hips, but Naoya only smirks, groping your knee with a chuckle. “What, you think I wanna fuck you like this?”

“How else then?”

“Oh, come on,” he prompts, “You kept staring at my ass the whole time. I think it’s time I return the favor.”

Without another word, he flips you onto your stomach and grabs you by the waist, giving you no time to relax before your head is pushed back down on the pillows. Naoya’s warm cock is throbbing from your backside and he groans, delivering a harsh smack to the skin before it aches under his touch.

“Such a pretty fucking ass that’s begging to be fucked,” in time to his words, you wiggle your hips at him in a silent complaint to get moving already. Naoya simply grips down on your hips to keep you still, spanking you once more as a lesson. “Don’t fucking move.”

“Naoya, please, just fuck me already.”

“Needy little wife, begging to be ruined, huh?” Another smack.

Shutting your eyes tight, you fist the sheets under you as tears come to life. “Yes, ‘em so needy for you, Naoya, want your cock so bad, please-” Your pleading is cut off when he slides into you in one fluid motion, his deep groans resonating around the room once he’s seated comfortably. Mouth falling open at the pleasure of being stretched so open and shocked by the fact you’d already been so wet, you could barely register the pace he’s started.

Naoya keeps fucking deep into you, slapping your ass repeatedly and calling you his dirty little slut – mine and all mine only, he said. You’re left immobile and whining under him, all of your consciousness centered on the burning sensation between your legs.

Beneath you, Naoya’s hands travel to tug your bra downwards. The material remains stuck under your breasts and you moan around his rough, calloused hands that are expertly kneading your breasts. His pace quickens until his hips are roughly slapping against yours, grumbles and garbled moans mixing in with your little gasps of his name in a desperate plea to be brought to your orgasm.

You feel so raw, so dirty, so filthy like he said.

Sweat and arousal is coated on your skins and everything about this position feels so primal, even more so when he begins to rub at your clit just to push you over the edge. “Oh, fuck!” you grasped his bicep with one hand, the soreness of your muscles extreme.

“Yeah? You like that? You’re such a good fucking girl, taking my cock like a bitch in heat,” he spits in your ear with lust dripping from each word, and his words are enough to make you cum around him.

Walls clamping down on his cock, you hear Naoya grunt above you, his chest now pressed onto your back. You’re crying around him but he only goes faster, he’s so close and like the good wife you are, you help your husband by driving your body back to meet him thrust by thrust. Naoya’s chuckles are stuttered and half mixing in with moans when he runs a hand through his hair, those same hands following in gripping your cheeks to face him.

His kisses are sloppy and short-lived; you’re too busy moaning and he’s struggling to breathe with your pussy convulsing around him. “God, so fucking tight!”

“Hmm, come on, baby, come for me,” you encourage by rolling your hips around his cock, ignoring the fact the oversensitivity is making your legs turn to jelly and your arms are seconds away from giving out on you. But you hold strong, this is the duty of his wife, and you look past your shoulders as Naoya digs his nails into your hips to keep you still while he cums inside you.

“Oh, fuuuuckkk,” prolonged groans spill from his mouth the same way his own cum is released in spurts from your pussy lips.

Satisfied and extremely tired, you fall limp on the bed. Naoya dips two fingers to collect the mess you’ve made and you shudder, but then he lets go of you until your lower body is sliding back down on the bed, eyes droopy from that heated fucking. The minute sounds of sucking is enough to let you know your perverted husband is most likely feasting on your cum, but nothing prepares you for when he pushes them back inside your pussy.

“N-Naoya!” you exclaim and stare up at your husband, whose attention is zeroed in on your pussy lips hungrily encasing his fingers and cum. “What’re you doing?”

“You think that’s enough to get you pregnant?”

“What?”

“Don’t answer that,” he narrows his eyes and begins to pump his cock that is half hard again, the sight making anticipation and arousal throb all over you. You’ve seen that look on him before, and it’s the face he makes when he’s dead set on accomplishing something. “I’ll keep fucking you until I’m sure you can grant me an heir.”

In combat, you’ll most definitely spar with your husband without fear of losing, but having Naoya in bed when he’s determined on breeding you is a different thing.

This, without a doubt, is the one thing you can’t beat him on. And not that you wanted to, anyway, having him fuck a baby in you does sound nice.

Locking your eyes with your husband, you willingly spread your legs open for him again.

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whisker-biscuit · 3 years

Text

The Birds, The Bees, and The Bottles

Fandom: Psychonauts

Rating: T for mild language and discussions of underage drinking

Summary: Two teens are caught trying to sneak into a bar. Bob finally has a conversation he’s held off for far too long.

Because herbaphony is not the only thing that runs in the Zanotto family.

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

Bob’s phone rang at two in the morning. Judging by the jolly ringtone of Helmut singing Strawberry Fields Forever, it was his personal phone instead of his work one, and that was the real tip off to things being very, very wrong.

He woke up and groggily pulled out of his still-slumbering-husband’s arms to answer the little thing going off on his nightstand.

“H’lo?”

“Bob!” Truman’s voice came out far too loud for the time of night, and far too stressed. “Bob, I’m so sorry to wake you, but something happened with Lili. I need you to pick her up for me, please.”

The older man sat up, much more awake as worry and fear immediately rolled in his gut. Helmut finally began to stir beside him, sensing his partner’s agitation.

“Truman, what’s going on? Pick Lili up from where?”

“The city’s police precinct on Abbey Avenue. She – she called me, but I’m out of state and I wouldn’t get there for hours at least even if I left this instant. She’s not in danger!” He added hastily, hearing the concern before Bob could even voice it mentally. “She didn’t get hurt! She’s just…”

The way he tapered off, the way he hesitated, said more than words could.

“She just got herself into some trouble, and she needs someone to go get her.”

Helmut was sitting up now, and Bob felt the question cross their mental link.

What happened?

Truman needs me to pick Lili up from the police station.

“I’m up, I’m on my way right now,” He responded to his nephew verbally, heaving himself out of bed. His husband followed suit despite still looking extremely puzzled, bless him.

“Thank you so much, Bob. I’ll make it up to you as soon as I can, I promise.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The older man waved a dismissive hand even though Truman wasn’t there to see it. “Family is s’pposed to do that for each other anyway.”

“Did I hear that right? Our peppy petunia had a run-in with the law?” Helmut asked as soon as his partner hung up. He paused, and in a lower tone – “she didn’t kill anyone, did she?”

“I don’t think it’s that serious,” Bob said, pulling a coat on over his sleep shirt. “But something tells me we still have a few things to worry about. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Ohohoh, no, don’t even think about hoofin’ it without me. We both know I’m the better driver.”

“Neither of us are very good drivers, Helmut.”

“Exactly! That little bit makes all the difference!”

The herbophanist sighed, charmed despite himself and the situation. “Alright, alright. Let’s not keep her waiting.”

The police precinct was nearly dead at this time of night. While it would’ve felt eerie to anyone else, Bob was grateful for the lack of people, and not just because he was still an introvert of the highest degree.

Two teenagers awaited them in the lobby, sitting on a bench together. One was hunched over and burning a hole in the ground with his downcast eyes. The other sat straight up, defiant, holding a glaring contest with the officer standing over them. When Bob entered the room first and met his great-niece’s eyes, her self-assuredness wavered for a brief moment. She hid the slip-up behind a wall of indifference.

“Lili,” he said softly. Then, just as softly but with a gruff tinge of surprise; “Razputin.”

There was no accusation in his voice, but the former scowled harder and the latter looked like he wanted to employ his invisibility. Bob studied them both a moment before his husband appeared and broke the tension with his mere presence.

“We’re here to bust you out, kiddos!” He announced with spread arms, cheerfully ignoring the looks he received from every person in the room.

“Are you Truman Zanotto?” Asked the officer who finally broke his gaze away from Lili to give them a disapproving once-over.

“No, I’m uh, I’m Bob Zanotto, and this is Helmut,” came the awkward reply. “Truman called me to pick Lili up. She’s my great-niece.”

A few seconds of silence passed as the officer made no move to do anything with that information. Bob cleared his throat.

“We’re, uh, listed in her emergency contacts for school?”

“I see. If you can just fill out some paperwork first, we can release her into your custody.”

The herbophanist watched the way Raz seemed to sink further in his seat at the mention of family contacts. The Aquatos were also out of state right now too, if he remembered correctly. Perfect timing for two minors getting up to mischief.

Well, up until they were actually caught.

“And…Razputin, too?” He asked, catching the teen’s startled gaze and giving him the mental equivalent of a thumbs-up.

The officer raised a brow. “Is he related to you, too?”

“Well, uh –”

“Yep!” Helmut interrupted, strolling right up to Raz and giving him a merry clap on the back. The teen had a physique comparable to most adult Olympic athletes, but even he nearly toppled forward from the force of such a big man. “He’s my third cousin, twice removed. Big family. Very close. Holidays are an experience, lemme tell ya!”

“Fine,” the officer pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, okay, I’ll make sure he gets cleared for release too. I’ll be right back.”

He stalked off, muttering something about it ‘being too damn early for this’, and the older couple turned to face Raz and Lili. Helmut steepled his fingers together to rest against his mustache.

“So! Now that Officer Spoil-Sport is gone, are we allowed to know what heinous crime has been committed in the night by my favorite pair of mischief-makers?”

The two glanced at each other. Raz was the one to break their silence.

“We, uh…got caught sneaking into a bar.”

Cold heat rushed through Bob’s core. Helmut blinked once, twice, then let out a boisterous chuckle.

“That’s it? Jesus! From the way you two were acting I thought you’d robbed the First National Bank.”

“…Helmut.” His husband murmured. The psi-king lost his mirth as he caught Bob’s eye.

“Ah…w-well, y’know, while I’m certainly glad we won’t hear about a righteous homicide in the news tomorrow, forgery ain’t exactly a humble hobby either.”

“It was just two IDs,” Lili muttered under her breath. “Not a big deal.”

The ice in her great-uncle’s heart turned frigid, but before he or Helmut could say anything to that, the officer was back. He shoved a handful of forms under Bob’s nose and the herbophanist fumbled to grab them before they all tumbled to the floor.

“Uh, uh, thank you.”

“Alright, we’re putting the pause on this conversation to make you free citizens again, but don’t think that means we’re done with it.” The Psi-King gave the teens the sternest look he could manage. “As soon as we get in the car, you two will have a lot of explaining to do.”

“O-Okay.”

“Uh-huh.”

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

No one spoke a word as they got in the car and started the drive back.

Raz seemed content to continue his efforts to blend in with the background of his seat, still not meeting anyone’s eyes, and Lili stared out the window with her chin in her hand, leaning against the car’s backdoor and letting the lights of the city bathe her in neon sickness.

Helmut, bless his soul, dutifully kept the radio going while he drove, changing the station to something more mellow whenever a song started getting a little too upbeat for the collective mood of the vehicle. Bob sat in the passenger side with his arms folded awkwardly. His brain was buzzing, dreading the inevitable conversation he needed to have with his great-niece and trying to figure out how he was going to go about it.

It surprised them all when Raz spoke over the music.

“It was my idea.”

The two adults glanced at each other, then through the rearview mirror at the fidgeting teen.

“Your idea to go looking for a drink? Or to sneak into a bar to do it?” Helmut asked, turning off the radio.

“Both.”

He still wasn’t meeting their eyes. Bob sighed through his nose.

“I don’t believe you.”

Razputin’s head finally snapped up to stare at him in shock for the fast call on his bluff. “I’m telling the truth!”

“I think you’re only telling part of it, kid.”

“No! I’m telling all of it.”

“Razpu-”

“Oh, come off it, Raz,” Lili snapped a little too loud, making the whole car jump. “Quit trying to take the fall for me. It was my idea to try the stupid fake ID thing, okay? Happy now?”

“Wh – uh, who said anything about being happy about it?” Helmut asked, legitimately confused.

“Look. Neither of us had anything to do tonight, and we were bored, so Raz suggested getting a drink somewhere, but Adam and Lizzie are out of town so we couldn’t ask them.” She crossed her arms and spoke without any inflection. “So, we went out but no one would let us do anything cause we’re minors. I thought that was stupid, because we’re agents same as any of you, so I came up with the sneaking-in part. We only got caught cause one of the bartenders recognized Raz from a show.”

There were a lot of loaded things to parse through from that explanation, but Bob’s mind stalled on one particular detail.

“Adam and Lizzie give you two alcohol?”

“Not…often,” Raz admitted. “Just once or twice, when we asked.”

“Do you mean like, a literal once or twice, or a…an estimated once or twice?”

“Did Dad put you up to this?” Lili shot back. “It was just a few times, like he said. What’s with the inquisition?”

“…Lili –”

“Raz.”

“Okay!” Helmut proclaimed as he slapped his hand against the steering wheel in boisterous aggression. “Who wants some ice cream?”

Everyone stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Cause I’m really feeling some chocolate-vanilla swirl right now. Basic bitch style. Right? Who’s with me?”

Silence.

“Great! Look at that, open Dairy King right there, better take advantage of this opportunity before it slips through our fingers like the melting ice cream we’re all gonna have in about five minutes!”

The psi-king swung into the parking lot in a frenzy and herded the car crew inside before any of them could come out of their shock long enough to protest. It was only as Bob was staring up at fifteen flavors of oversaturated sugary goodness that he realized what had just happened.

He couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief over his husband’s diversion. The tension that had been boiling over was cooled significantly by the sudden non-sequitur, and while the teens were rather half-hearted about picking out their sweet treats, there was no longer a risk of an explosion happening.

Metaphorically and literally.

Helmut caught his spouse’s eye with a meaningful look at Lili the moment all of them had their orders in hand, then slung his arm around Razputin’s shoulders and steered him away. “C’mon my lad! Nothing like the cool night air of three in the morning to keep your Hurricane ™ properly chilled!”

The poor boy had no choice but to let himself be pulled outside, leaving the two Zanottos standing awkwardly in the dingy restaurant. Bob gave a nervous scratch at his chin under his beard.

“How about we, uh, find a seat somewhere?”

Lili couldn’t fully cross her arms while holding ice cream, but she did a good job of making it work anyway. “Sure.”

They sat in a booth in the farthest corner from the front counter. Both great-niece and great-uncle stared at their respective sweet treats as if they could teleport them out of this situation. Bob glanced out the window and saw Helmut and Raz standing outside of the car. The former was on one knee with his hand on the teen’s shoulder, speaking earnestly but inaudibly, and the latter was scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the asphalt.

“Are you going to lecture me?” Lili finally cut through the silence.

Bob turned back to her. “No. Not really.”

“No?” She broke her gaze away from her ice cream just a little bit, eyeing him with surprise. “Then why did Helmut take Raz and leave us alone?”

She was so perceptive, so smart. And yet, still so young.

“Well, I… I still want to talk to you about what happened. I’m just not very, good, at this kind of thing.” He took his spoon and absentmindedly began drawing a flower in his soft-serve. “You already know what you did wasn’t a good idea, right? So I don’t think a lecture would help things any on that front.”

She didn’t respond. He continued.

“It’s less about the fake ID and more…the reasons you made the fake ID. Does that make sense?”

“I guess so, but I know what I’m doing, Uncle Bob. I’m not going to drink irresponsibly.”

The herbophanist shook his head. “But you’ll do irresponsible things to be able to drink in the first place.”

“That’s not –” Lili didn’t have a good rebuttal. She folded her arms and grumpily started eating her cherry chocolate delight. “Whatever. It’s two different things, anyway.”

Against his better judgement, Bob began picking at his own food as he thought about how best to bring the subject back up without making the teen defensive again. Spoons clicking against teeth was the only sound between them for a solid minute.

Finally, an epiphany.

“Did Truman ever…tell you anything, about your great-grandma?”

The girl paused with a bite halfway up to her mouth. She frowned, confused. “Grandma Tia? Not much. Just that she died when he was a baby.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she did.” He ran a tired hand over his face. The ache in his heart might have long-since healed into a scar, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when pressed. “She passed away when I was nineteen. The doctors told me it was liver failure.”

He didn’t have to say anything else. Lili’s mouth thinned and she put her spoon down, uncomfortable.

“When I…found out the reason behind her death, I was horrified by it. It didn’t make sense to me why she would willingly do something that hurt her so badly, especially when I was right there to love her and help her. It felt like a betrayal that she never got help or made herself stop. I was…disgusted by the mere thought of doing anything like that.”

Bob took a moment to breathe and wipe his eyes. He wasn’t crying, but better safe than sorry.

“It sounds pretty hypocritical when I say it now, doesn’t it?”

His great-niece only gave him a hesitant look.

“Anyway, uh, where was I…” He worried his lip. “Oh, right. I told myself that I’d never touch the stuff after that. I was angry at what she’d done, and I was determined not to have the same ‘weakness’, so to speak. As you know, it, uh, it didn’t last long. I was at a college party barely a year later when I was invited by some friends to drink with them. I didn’t make human friends very easily back then – actually, I still don’t – so I was a little desperate to keep them. It turned out to be pretty hard whiskey, so I got hammered.”

The man leaned back in his seat, staring at the patterns in the booth table.

“Back then, no one really knew how alcoholism could run in a family. Everyone thought it was a personal choice to keep drinking. It wasn’t even classified as an addiction yet. So I didn’t know how susceptible I was, or how careful I had to be. I’d spend months not having a single drink, thinking I was fine and could handle myself, and then I’d get plastered for a week at parties and bars and God knows what else, and it would take me even longer to get myself to stop again. It was like that even when I was with Ford and his gang. It wasn’t until I started dating Helmut that I started trying to change those habits. I’d never met anyone who loved me so unconditionally that I wanted to be a better person for them, until him. And it worked for a while.

“Well, barring our wedding, of course. I got shitfaced at the reception. It was embarrassing afterwards, but Helmut told me it made our cake-eating ceremony a hell of a great time.”

Lili snorted, and it was accompanied by a tiny upturn of her lips. Then it dropped as her expression became solemn. “And then…everything with Maligula happened, right?”

“Yeah. I think you know the rest of that story.”

“Uh-huh.”

Great-niece and great-uncle sat together for a while, just thinking about it all.

“I know I have to be more careful drinking than a lot of people, Uncle Bob,” Lili finally said at length. “My dad warned me about it when I was old enough to ask.”

“Truman is a good dad,” he murmured in response.

“The best dad.”

“Definitely the best dad.”

More silence.

“I didn’t mean to worry you and him,” she continued. “Or scare you. I know it was dumb to do what we did tonight.”

Bob looked at her, and she gave a conceding sigh.

“Okay, it was dumb to do a lot of what we’ve been doing with this stuff. That doesn’t mean I’m not being careful.”

“Kid, it’s not always just a matter of being careful. I thought I was being careful. I thought that for years and years, and when I finally realized I wasn’t, I convinced myself I could stop any time I wanted to, and kept up the same patterns anyway. That’s what I’m trying to get you to understand. I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did. I’m just worried about you.”

Lili closed her eyes with a grimace. “I know. I’m sorry, Uncle Bob.”

“Hey, kiddo, look at me.” He waited until she did so. “I’m not mad at you. I’m not disappointed, either. That’s your dad’s job. I get it, is what I’m saying. It gives you a buzz, and it’s fun and exciting, and you just wanted to have a good time with your, uh…”

Bob leaned in a bit, and dropped his voice to a stage whisper.

“Is Raz still your boyfriend?”

“Wha –” her cheeks went red. “Yes, he is!”

“Alright, sorry, I’m just always out of the loop. No one ever tells me when these things change or not. Anyway,” he continued before she could get brighter than the cherries in her ice cream. “I’m just saying that you gotta be more than careful with this kind of thing. Everyone should be, really, but especially people like us. Plants aren’t the only thing that runs in the Zanotto family, unfortunately, so we just have to be aware of it and act accordingly.”

The teen turned this over in her mind. He could practically see the gears moving. When she looked at him again, it was with a slow, contemplative nod.

“No more late-night bar-hopping?” Her great-uncle asked.

“No more late-night bar-hopping.” She answered, sincere.

“Good.” He looked outside. Helmut and Raz were both lying on the front of the car, pointing out stars to each other. The sight made him smile. “Come on, we’ll work on that whole thing about Adam and Lizzie giving you alcohol another time, when it’s not three in the morning. For now, let’s rejoin our boys again and go get some rest, okay?”

“Okay.” Lili slid out of the booth and tentatively took her family member’s hand. His fingers squeezed hers in reassurance. “And...thanks, Uncle Bob.”

“Well, what can I say. Us weird Zanotto plant people hafta look out for each other, right?”

“Right.”

They walked out together, hand-in-hand.

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

A/N: I knew from promotional material that we'd be going into the mind of someone struggling with alcoholism, but Bob's Bottles punched me hard in the gut. It's probably my favorite mind in the game, both because it's visually gorgeous and because it hit a little close to home with some of the themes, like generational alcoholism and how the addiction can make someone a shell of themselves.

I wrote half of this three weeks ago and then found myself really struggling to finish it because it brought up a lot of old feelings I thought I'd sorted through a long time ago.

Psychonauts, man.

#psychonauts 2 #psychonauts 2 spoilers #Bob Zanottto #Helmut Fullbear #Lili Zanotto #Razputin Aquato #Bob Zanotto/Helmut Fullbear #psychonauts

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idy-ll-ique · 3 years

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Just Peachy.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: mentions of injuries and blood, overall very fluffy and cute

Requested: nope

Summary: in which Y/N gets hurt and Ransom is the perfect fiancé.

Author's Note: hiya peeps! ok im gonna say it,,, im a hoe for soft!ransom idc idc. enjoy!

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"If anything happens while I'm at work, if you get hurt, don't hesitate to call me, alright? I'll be home in 15 minutes. Just call." Wise words by Ransom Drysdale, her fiancé.

Was she going to do that? Nope! Y/N grumbled from her position on the ground; she was walking down the stairs when she had tripped and fallen, ending up in a heap on the floor with one ankle definitely broken and a cut on her temple. Slowly, as the pain got too much to bear, she started crawling to the best of her abilities towards the bathroom to get the first aid kit.

As she neared the bathroom her hopes went up, until she saw the cupboard above the sink on top of which the first aid kit was kept. "Who fucking keeps it so high up?" she cursed under her breath as she grabbed the sink, slowly standing up, praying the sink wouldn't break under her as she applied her full body weight on the poor thing. She was successful.

Now putting her entire weight on her good foot, she reached up and, severely underestimating the weight of the kit, yanked it up, causing the heavy box to come crashing down on her. "Damn it, fucking son of a—" she cursed loudly as the box knocked her off her already weak feet. She fell on her back with a grunt and the heavy box landed on her chest, forcing her to exhale a breath. "Fuck."

Y/N forgot to hear a painful crunch.

She started lifting her hands to push the kit away when a sharp pain shot through her left wrist, causing her to wince. "Oh, great, another broken limb? Just what I needed. Great. Fucking peachy," she muttered and shoved the box away with her right hand, moving to sit up. She tried to crawl out of the bathroom but this time, with only one hand to support her, the task was perilous.

Ransom tapped his fingers on his desk at work in the tune of his favorite song, frowning at the blank open document in front of him. He was working on his second book, but today, inspiration was nowhere to be found. No ideas were coming to his head on how to proceed with the next chapter. I wonder what Y/N is doing, he thought and smiled softly at the thought of his fiancée.

Ransom and Y/N met at a party thrown by a mutual friend. He was being his usual, bitter self in the gardens outside the lavish mansion (yes, a mansion) when Y/N had approached him first. "Hi there, I'm Y/N. I noticed you were being too quiet and you slipped out, and wondered if you wanted to talk to someone?"

He wanted to push her away for talking to him like that, especially since he left the house for a reason, but instead he just smiled at her. A genuine smile. "I'd like that a lot." And so, they talked. Ransom was proud to announce that he had first fallen for her nature, her personality and her demeanor instead of her looks, which was what made their relationship special.

At least for Ransom, given the type of man he used to be.

Y/N was extremely gorgeous in his eyes. That was simply an added bonus. By the end of the party, both of them had walked into the house again and Ransom had put on quite a show about asking her out to dinner, which she readily agreed to. She knew what kind of a man he was; spoiled, full of himself and had a big attitude problem but that one talk with him changed her perception of Ransom Drysdale.

He was truly nice to the people he cared about, one of them being her. They talked for a short while and he was nothing short of polite, sweet and funny at times. He flirted endlessly since that was part of his personality but she didn't mind, she liked it, even. Ever since that day, they were inseparable and now, 4 years later, engaged.

"Fuck shit, fuck shit, fuck shit…" Y/N chanted as she slowly crawled to the living room, the pain in her body increasing by the minute. Finally putting her pride aside, she grabbed her phone off the couch and called Ransom, falling to the floor with deep breaths. Ransom's eyes snapped away from his laptop and landed on his phone when it started ringing.

Grinning, he picked up the call when Y/N's smiling face came into view. The moment she spoke, though, his grin dropped. "Hugh…" Y/N choked out, eyes filling with tears when the pain finally caught up to her. "Y/N? Bubba, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly, immediately leaping to his feet. He shut the laptop, grabbed his coat and stormed out of his office, towards his car. Work be damned.

"It's— it's nothing. I'm sorry for calling, I know you're busy—" He nearly scoffed. "Babe, listen to me. You're more important. I'm coming home, I just left the office. Speak to me, bub, tell me," he insisted as he drove like a madman towards his house. "Just got hurt a little bit," Y/N mumbled and Ransom's heart broke. "Darling, I'll take care of it when I get home."

Thankfully, 15 minutes later, he reached home. Ransom hurriedly parked his car and threw open the front door, freezing when he saw his fiancée lying near the couch on the floor, the phone still in her hand as her eyes snapped away from the ceiling towards him. "Ransom," she stuttered and he walked towards her, kneeling next to her. His thumb swiped the blood on her temple.

God, did he want to punch her on her stupid, beautiful face for telling him she was just a little hurt. "Bub, what's this?" He picked her up and placed her on the couch, moving to take her hand but it fell limp… in a weird angle. His eyes widened. "Is your wrist broken?" he whispered and Y/N nodded, turning away from him. "And you had the fucking audacity to tell me it was nothing?!" he screamed.

She kept silent as he checked the rest of her body, finding out that her ankle was broken as well, the skin around it swollen black and blue. "You're a fucking dumbass, you know that?" he muttered as he called a doctor, sitting on the floor next to the couch. "I didn't want to disturb you." She was wheezing and he turned to her, only to see her clutching at her chest with a pained expression on her face.

"Baby?"

"Hurts." He sat up and ripped the t-shirt off her, eyes darkening when they landed on the bruise forming on her chest and between the valley of her breasts. "What the fuck happened when I was gone?" he hissed as he covered her up again. "I… I fell down the stairs first and broke my ankle," she began, fidgeting. "Well you should've called me then!" he insisted, exasperated.

"I didn't want to be a burden," she admitted in a small voice and Ransom's resolve broke. He teared up a bit and pressed his lips to hers, shaking his head. "You're not a burden, Y/N. I told you, if you're hurt at home, call me. I meant it. Even if it's a paper cut, call. Even if it's a skinned knee, call. I'm always here for you, and I always will be here." Y/N sniffled under him.

"Ransom…" He gently sat her up and sat next to her, only to pull her on his lap as he held her close. "Don't you dare think you're a burden ever again. I signed up for this. A burden is something you're not willing to carry. This? I'm willing to carry this to the end of the world," he whispered, squeezing her body as tightly as he could without crushing her. "I love you, Ran."

I love you, too.

"I know, sweetcheeks." And he grinned when her head shot up and she promptly slapped him on the cheek. "You're so full of yourself, Drysdale," she huffed. "You still love me," he hummed as she snuggled into his arms. "Fortunately for you, unfortunately for me, yeah, yes I do," she sighed.

Soon, the doctor arrived, patched her up and said the worst thing she had ever heard in her life.

"Bedrest for 2 weeks till the ankle heals."

And seeing Ransom's shit-eating grin had caused her to glare so viciously at him that even he had cowered. "Babe, doctor's orders, can't help it." After the doctor left, they were now laying side by side on their bed, staring at each other. "I can't just sit here with nothing to do!" she whined, snuggling closer to him. He put an arm around her, sighing.

"Well, face the reality, kitten. You're staying here and that's an order."

"Funny you think you can boss me around, sweetheart."

"I know I can't but this time, I will. I'll strap you down to the bed, mark my words," Ransom said with a roll of his eyes. "Kinky," Y/N snickered and Ransom kissed her nose with a smirk. "You are not getting up, Mrs Drysdale," he whispered and she pouted, jutting her lower lip out as far as she could along with giving him puppy eyes. "Please, Ran?" Ransom laughed.

"No." She groaned loudly. "Ugh, fine! I'll just get up when you go to work," she spoke smugly and Ransom turned to her, eyes wide. "Oh no you don't." He leaped up from the bed, making her whine. "Where are you going?! I need cuddles, Ran, I'm hurt!" she insisted and he got back into bed, taking out his phone. "I'm making calls to work. I'm gonna work from home now."

"You don't have to do that!" she insisted vehemently but Ransom refused to hear it. "I have to! To make sure your cute, dumb little ass stays in bed like the doctor said," he huffed. After one phone call, he sighed in relief and relaxed against the bed. "Pays to be a Thrombey, ya know," he chuckled, ruffling Y/N's hair as she snuggled into his side.

She was a mess. Her left hand was in cast, and so was her right ankle. After the doctor left she had taken off her t-shirt, leaving her in her sports bra, the wound on her chest a deep purple with flecks of red. There was also a bandaid on her temple for the small cut. "I figured." It was quiet for some time. "You never finished the story, babe. How did you get so hurt?"

"Well, first the stairs incident, I told you. After that, I was going to the bathroom to get the first aid kit but it was too heavy. I didn't know that so when I lifted it, it fell on me. I broke my wrist from hitting it on the floor too hard and the first aid kit fell on my chest," she huffed, "The pain was too much so I called you." Ransom frowned. "You should've called earlier."

"I know. Sorry."

"It's okay, baby, I'm here now," Ransom smiled, giving her a loving kiss on the top of her head. "I'm getting tired," she yawned as the adrenaline started wearing off. "Sleep." Ransom adjusted himself so he was now half-lying on the bed, back resting against the headrest as he gathered Y/N in his arms. She fell asleep a few minutes later.

---

"Ran…"

Y/N touched his side of the bed, only to be met with cold sheets instead of his warm body. She blinked the sleep away and sat up, rubbing her eyes and letting out a yawn. Running a hand through her messy hair, she stood up and limped towards the stairs. 2 weeks had passed and as the doctor said, her bedrest was over.

Her ankle had healed but not fully, while the wrist was still in a cast. The wound on her chest was also feeling loads better. She walked down the stairs and entered the kitchen area only to see Ransom cooking breakfast. "Ran," she whined and he turned around. "Y/N! Get your ass in bed, why are you here?"

"It got lonely." She wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing a soft kiss to his bare back. "Alright, fine." He spun around and grabbed her waist, lifting her and placing her on the kitchen counter. "Sit here." Y/N smiled lazily as she placed her head on his shoulder, watching him cook. He was making eggs. Omelettes.

"How did you sleep?" he questioned when the silence stretched on. "I slept well. The ankle doesn't hurt as much, nor the wound on my chest. But the wrist…" She sighed and Ransom looked at her with a sad smile, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "It'll get better, I promise. I'm not going to stop taking care of you."

"I'd like that very much," she replied shyly and he grinned. It was true, Ransom had truly taken care of her well. Breakfast, lunch and dinner in bed everyday for 2 weeks, he worked in their room and they had cuddled more in the two weeks than they had in their entire relationship. Y/N was super happy with their arrangement.

Of course, sometimes Ransom would be too busy, leaving her alone in the room while he worked downstairs or had a meeting with someone. But then he'd make it up to her by offering more snuggles and kisses. "My best girl," he murmured, placing the omelette he was making on a plate. He then carried the plate to the dining room, leaving her on the kitchen counter.

He returned just as fast, gathering her in his arms and pressing a kiss to her temple as he carried her to the dining table as well. "You're strong," she teased and he huffed. "I better be, or all that working out will be for nothing." She laughed and he placed her down on a chair. "Eat well, I'll be back." With another kiss dropped to her head, he went back to the kitchen area.

Y/N wondered how she became so lucky to have him as her fiancé. Yeah, sure, Ransom wasn't a very nice person in general but to her, he was the best. The man who once called his aunt unsavory things punched someone in the face when they had the audacity to call her the same things. "You better watch your fucking mouth or I'm gonna break all your teeth."

It hadn't affected her much anyway but seeing Ransom's reaction had sent a pleasant tingle down her spine. He was ready to do anything for her. And she had to admit, lately, he was being very soft. She had noticed the changes in him around a year ago; he'd become… domestic, almost. It was fun to see him like that.

His family, well, they were less than pleased when Ransom had first introduced her to them. They thought she wasn't good enough for him and had even tried to break them down. But that had only made them stronger. Ransom was in love with her and nothing his family said was going to change that. "Y/N?"

She snapped out of her thoughts and blinked at Ransom. "Yeah?" He laughed and sat in front of her with his own plate of food. "You were lost in thoughts; the food's getting cold, honey." She cursed softly and laughed along, finally finishing her food.

How had she gotten so lucky?

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Show some love, likes and reblogs will be appreciated <3

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maddiwrites · 3 years

Text

Secret Lives (Part 2)

Paring: JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: You and JJ never got along so your friends trap the two of you on a boat in the middle of the marsh to work it out. Only it doesn’t go as planned. (Part 2)

Note: I couldn’t be happier with the feedback I am getting from Part 1!! Thank you guys so much for helping me out and hanging on there with me as I figure all of this out! I’m so grateful for all the comments and messages and I am ready every single one! Now I saw a couple people asking to be a part of a tag list...so if someone could tell me how to set one of them up I would be more than happy to lol. I will tag the two people I’ve seen who asked to be tagged! But yeah, am I supposed to set something up for a tag list or do people just message me if they want to be tagged in my stuff? Someone let me know!!

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: Language, angst, small parts of child abuse.

Part 1

It’s been about two weeks since you’ve seen or talked to the Pogues. Everyday felt ten hours longer and the air felt thinner. You missed your friends. You missed surfing with John B, you missed debating about the accuracy of medical TV shows with Pope, you missed sleepovers with Kie, and yes, you even missed JJ.

As much as you hated yourself for it, you knew you did the right thing. Staying with the Pogues would have caused more harm than good. It was clear as day that you and JJ would never get along because he didn’t like you and you weren’t going to stand around and be insulted by a guy you still can’t help but think about every single day.

Every night, you pictured the hatred behind JJ’s blue eyes when he spoke about you being nothing but a spoiled brat who didn’t deserve his trust or your friendship with the other Pogues. Each word felt like an individual stab to the heart. You were use to people not liking you. The girls at your school hated you for not giving them the time of day, the boys threw hurtful remarks at you all the time after you rejected them. But they never hurt as much JJ’s. Because they didn’t come from the guy you loved.

It didn’t matter how much JJ hated you. You couldn’t help but fall for his sparkling blue eyes, tan skin, and fluffy blonde hair. You swooned every time JJ laughed and smiled because you loved seeing him happy. You were turned on every time JJ stood up for one of your friends, threatening to fight whoever it was that was bothering them, even if it was an uptight Kook. You were silently heartbroken every time JJ told you and his friends about his sexcapade from the previous night. You were concerned and personally infuriated when JJ would come to the Chateau with new sets of bruises without telling you where they came from because that little voice inside your head told you exactly where they were from.

You loved him, and you hated that you loved him.

But this was for the best. At least thats what you told yourself.

Kie didn’t agree though. She found you in your room the next day, ready to apologize for stranding you on a boat with JJ, but it just ended in another screaming match when you told her what happened.

“So just like that? You’re gonna leave?” She yelled.

“I can’t do it anymore, Kie! He doesn’t want me there, and I am so sick and tired of trying to get him to like me.”

“What about John B and Pope? What about me? You’re our friend too!”

“We can still hangout -”

“Without JJ? That’s so unfair!”

“He hates me, Kie! How would you like it if I forced you to hang out with Sarah Cameron, huh?”

“That’s not the same.”

“Its the exact fucking same, and you know it!”

Kie ended up storming out of your room, neither one of you feeling any sort of peace or satisfaction with your decision. You haven’t talked to her since, and you contemplated calling her every day.

But you never do.

The alarm you set on your phone blared in your ear from the pillow next to your head - a reminder that you needed to leave to pick up your father. You slapped the touch screen of your phone until the stupid alarm turned off. The last place you wanted to be was anywhere outside of your room. The thought of being with you father, the man you continued to blame for all your problems, filled you with self-hatred. You hated how easily he was able to manipulate you to help him, making you and your mother out to be the bad guys. He used Andrew’s wealth as a guilt trip for you, saying that since you didn’t do anything to deserve his money, the least you could do was help him out because you and your mother left him with absolutely nothing. And you fall for it. You fall for it every single time because he says you use to be daddy’s little girl - that he had big plans for the two of you when you were old enough to learn life’s pleasures. Little did you know his biggest life pleasures had always been drugs, alcohol, and gambling.

You tied your hair up in a messy bun and bounced down the stairs. Swiftly, grabbing the car keys to your new Mercedes Andrew bought you for your sixteenth birthday, you sped walked past your little sister who tried showing you a new trick that she taught your maltese puppy.

“Look, Y/N/N!”

“Not now, Gracie,” You huffed.

As you drove through the Cut, you couldn’t help but keep a lookout for your Pogues. You tried not to slam on the brakes every time you caught a glimpse of blonde hair or swerve when you saw a guy John B’s height carrying a surfboard.

You honked your horn twice when you pulled up to your dad’s shitty apartment. After no longer being able to pay his mortgage after your mom left him, he had no choice but to move into the cheapest apartment in OBX. He always tried telling you that was your fault too.

A few minutes later, he walked out, looking like he hasn’t showered in days or knows how to change his socks.

He slid into the passenger seat with a grunt, barely passing you a second glance. “You’re late.” He said.

You stayed quiet, knowing that anything you said would only piss him off even more since you weren’t in the mood to put up with his antics.

You drove him to his drug dealer’s house, parking outside of the one story home that looked like it was rotting from the inside out. Your dad made you take him here a couple times. Every time you stayed in the car. But today, your father had something different planned.

“Come on,” He said.

“What?” You looked at him with your brows pinched together in confusion.

“I need you inside.”

“No, no, no, no. That wasn’t the deal.”

“Well it is now, so let’s go.” His voice was stern through his clenched teeth, his eyes unblinking. You stared at him for a long second, debating whether fighting with him was worth it.

Without another word, you reluctantly opened your door and followed your dad into the house. It smelled like B.O and marijuanna, just like how you pictured a frat house would. Pots, pans, and plates were filled to the brim of the sink. A moldy meal that looked a couple days old sat at the round table tucked in the corner.

Your dad lead you into the living room where three other men were sitting. Well two men and one boy you recognized immediately. You swallowed your nerves as they all turned to look at your dad, then you.

“What’d you bring me, today, Jerry?” The guy with the long black hair tied in a low bun looked at you like you were fresh meat.

You took a small step closer to your dad, ironically looking at him for some kind of protection. You didn’t trust any of these men in this room. You didn’t care if they were your father’s friends. They were men who made poor life choices and you didn’t know how far they could take it.

You looked over at Rafe Cameron, who compared to these guys, looked like a lost kid in a carnival. He was sporting a black eye and jaw. He looked both shocked and scared to see you here, probably worried that you would torment his reputation by letting everyone know how he really spends his weekdays when he’s not partying on his daddy’s boat. Little did he know, he had just enough blackmail to use against you too.

“This is my daughter, Y/N,” Your dad introduced you. “Y/N, this is Barry.”

Barry looked you up and down and smirked. “You look like you a part of Country Club’s world.” By the way he was pointing his thumb back at the Kook, you figured that was his nickname for Rafe.

“She is,” Your father answered for you. “Remember when you said you didn’t trust me to come up with enough money to pay you back for my blow? This is proof that I got it. That I’ll always have it.”

Bile rose up your throat and your heart twisted in your chest. Is this how your dad thought of you? An open wallet?

Of course it is, you thought.

Barry nodded, impressed that someone like you came from a man like your father. “Well, take a seat. Can I offer you anything? Beer? Soda? Maybe a whiff?” He pointed to the white line on his clear coffee table.

“No. Thank you.” You said slowly before looking up at your father. “I didn’t bring any cash...”

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I paid out this time - used the check you sent me for my water bill. But now Barry knows he can trust me with his shit - that I wasn’t lying about you.”

“Maybe you can help Country Club pass my shit around. You’ll get a nice discount if you do...and maybe something else,” Barry looked at you suggestively.

“Don’t scare her off, dude, she just got here.” The other man said. He extended his arm out for you to shake his hand. “I’m Luke Maybank.”

In that moment, it felt like the whole world stopped turning. You stared at the man in front of you, drinking in all his features and matching them to JJ’s. Same blue eyes, sharp jaw line, and a perfect nose. You looked down at his hand as you hesitantly shook it. Dirty, dry, scuffed. You remembered the days and nights that JJ would limp into the Chateau. He would blame it on the Kooks but the details in his story never stuck, like he couldn’t remember them with each person he told.

“Maybank?” You repeated.

“Yeah,” He narrowed his eyes. “Do I know you?”

“I was friends with your son.” Just like that, you went from being nervous to being angry. You hated this man more than you’re own father. JJ didn’t deserve the beatings and the abuse from the man in front of you. He was nothing but a deadbeat dad who didn’t know how good his son really was to him.

“I would have remembered a pretty face like yours.”

“He never brought me around your house,” You looked at Luke Maybank from his shoes to his face. He was wearing jeans with dirt stains on them, a fitted white tank underneath a grey and blue flannel that was ripped by the cuffs around his wrists. The bags under his eyes were as dark as the bruise on Rafe’s face and his chin was in need of a shave. “Wonder why.” You couldn’t stop the sarcasm that dripped from your tongue.

You wished you could say more, or spit in his face, or kick him where it hurts. You weren’t afraid of what would happen to you, but how he would take it out on JJ if you did.

You looked up at your dad. “I’ll wait in the car.”

You quickly walked out of the house, immediately taking in a deep breath of fresh air. Before you could hide away in the front seat of your car, Rafe called out for you to stop.

You turned, only because you didn’t know what he wanted.

“What?” You said.

“Tell your boys this isn’t over. They’re not going to get away with -”

“I’m sorry. What are you talking about?”

“The Pogues. They sunk Topper’s 2020 Malibu, 24-MXC.”

At least now you have an idea as to where his bruises came from. “Is that suppose to mean something to me?”

Rafe smirked. “I forgot. You’re not a natural born Kook.”

“And yet you and I are standing in the same douchebag’s yard. What a coincidence.”

Rafe sneered at you. If this were a cartoon, steam would be coming out of his ears. “Just tell them.”

When Rafe turned to walk back into Barry’s home, you called out to him. “How do you know it was them?” Rafe turned around. “What’s your proof?” He didn’t answer immediately, and you watched him wrack his brain for some bullshit lie, which gave you all the answers you needed. “I’m guessing there isn’t any but you think it was them because you gave them a good reason to sink Topper’s 2020 Mailbu, 24-MXC. A boat I know is the finest wake setter and number one in luxury, quality, and performance.” The only reason you knew that was because JJ would say it every time Topper and Sarah would cruise by you on the HMS Pogue, and the look on Rafe’s face made it worth every second having to listen to JJ repeat that almost every week.

If Rafe wanted to respond, he couldn’t, because your dad was now walking towards you with a mean mug on his face.

Before you could say anything, the back of your dad’s hand whipped you across the face. His wedding ring, the one he refused to take off for eighteen years, caught on the corner of your mouth, splitting your bottom lip.

Rafe jumped back, startled, and you bit back a scream. Your thumb skimmed over your lip, blood coating your finger.

“Don’t embarrass me like that again. Got it?” You dad glared down at you.

“Sir...” Rafe’s voice shook with unease. If you weren’t silently shaking with shame, you would have been surprised that Rafe even said anything at all.

“Trust me, kid. You don’t wanna get in between a quarrel between a dad and their kid,” Luke Maybank smirked as he made his way to his own truck that was parked in front of yours.

You glared at the back window of the car, now shaking with both shame and anger. You knew there was nothing else you could do to change the way Luke treated his son. You knew you couldn’t stop him from hurting JJ.

But it shouldn’t matter. Because JJ wasn’t your problem anymore.

***************

The next morning your mom made you run her errands for her. A trip to the Cleaners to pick up Andrew’s suits, the pet store for dog food and treats, and lastly to Heyward's because, according to Gracie, he sells the best hot dogs she’s ever had.

You were trembling with nerves as you stalked through the aisles. You kept your head down, focusing on finding everything on your mother’s list as quickly as possible so you could get the hell out of there. When you went to check out, Mr. Heyward studied you but didn’t say anything. Lord knows what Pope told him. You wouldn’t be surprised if he charged you extra just to make a point.

“Thank you,” You said as he handed you the brown paper bag.

He nodded silently.

As you walked out of the store, you’re faced with three out of your four friends that you dreaded seeing. They were huddled together, whispering and bickering about something. When they heard the bell above the door chime, they all looked up at you. The four of you stood there like you had all just gone brain dead. Your mouth dried up and you forgot how to speak.

Pope looked surprised to see you, like a ghost he wasn’t expecting to see. Kie looked glum, and you remembered your last conversation. You didn’t know what you were now. You couldn’t read JJ’s expression. His eyes are casted down on your face. He was staring at your lips. Your beautiful soft pink lips he’s dreamt about kissing for years. Now they were tainted and he was dying to know how, so he could wrap his hands around that bastard’s neck and set him straight.

“Hi...” You said softly. You didn’t know what else to say.

No one else had a chance to speak because the piercing noise of a police siren cut through the awkward tension. Officer Shoupe got out of his car and started approaching Pope of all people.

"Morning Officer,” Pope said nervously.

Shoupe acted like he didn’t hear him. “I have an arrest warrant for felony of destruction of property.”

You instantly thought back to what Rafe said to you yesterday. Topper’s boat. How they’re not going to get away with it.

You watched Shoupe with wide eyes as he told Pope to put his hands up. “Hands where I can see them.” Kie tried blocking Shoupe from getting any closer to Pope. “Young lady, out of my way.”

Heyward walked out of his shop when he heard the commotion. “You arresting my boy?”

Shoupe didn’t answer and forcefully pulled Pope’s hands behind his back.

“Be careful!” Kie screamed at him.

Everyone started screaming at Shoupe, trying to get him away from the boy who didn’t deserve this. Pope had a future ahead of him. One that didn’t involve relying on his parents money to get. He was a hard worker, stayed out of trouble, and even had a scholarship interview in a couple weeks that will be his one way ticket off this island. He couldn’t go to jail. It would ruin him.

Your head started ringing as the people in front of you moved in slow motion. Rafe’s words repeated in your head - more importantly the words he didn’t say. He hesitated when you asked how they knew it was your friends. Because he didn’t know for sure.

“Stop!” You screamed louder than anyone else, causing everyone to pause in their movements. Your friends looked at you with wide eyes and Shoupe narrowed his in suspicion. “Pope didn’t do it.” You couldn’t stop yourself from doing what you were about to do, but you knew it was better than Pope getting pushed down to the station. “I did it.”

“Y/N...” JJ started to say softly, but you cut him off.

“You’re here for the Thornton’s sunken boat, right?” You continued, knowing that if you proved with some details that you were there, Shoupe would have no choice but to take you instead of Pope. “Pope didn’t do it. He wasn’t even with me when I did it.”

Shoupe shook his head. “Y/N, you don’t want to cover for -”

“I’m not covering. I was sick and tired of Topper and his friends always taking advantage of my friends, who do nothing but work their asses off to make sure families like mine can prop their perfectly painted toes up on some beach chairs and do nothing but lay in the sun all day. So I hit Topper where it hurt with something so replaceable as a boat because I know money is all that matters to that family.”

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing?” JJ said through clenched teeth.

You shrugged. “What? I’m just telling the truth.” You took a deep breath and glanced at JJ one last time before focusing back on Shoupe. “You know my dad, Shoupe. And you know I’m not talking about Andrew. I mean, my real dad.”

You tried to act like you didn’t just spill your biggest secret to really sell your story. You pretended like the eyes of all your friends weren’t burning holes in your head.

Shoupe used to be the officer that would frequently visit your home when you lived with your dad. Neighbors would call the cops on your family a lot because the screaming got to be too much. Without your mom pressing charges, there was nothing he could do.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know your dad,” Shoupe said softly, like he felt sorry for you that he knew exactly what you were talking about.

“I guess I inherited his temper.”

“What?” Kie’s voice broke and tears started cascading down her cheeks. You forced yourself not to look at her.

“I know you don’t have any proof that Pope did it. There’s no cameras posted around the Thornton’s dock.” You knew that because Sarah made you hang out with their friends a couple of times on that boat. “And there were no witnesses.” You were banking on Rafe’s reaction for this one. “So I’m guessing the Thornton’s, most likely the Mrs., paid you or something to make the arrest. But I don’t think the Sheriff would appreciate you taking someone who you have no evidence against in instead of someone confessing to the crime right to your face.”

You didn’t blink when you stared Officer Shoupe down, challenging him to go against you and fight his way to Pope. But both of you knew he couldn’t take Pope after this.

“Is this true?” Shoupe looked at Pope.

“Yes -”

“Not you! I’m asking Pope,” Shoupe snapped, glaring at you. You knew you just ruined his entire day.

Pope looked at you for some kind of answer. You tried subtly nodding your head, telling him it’s okay to agree. You wanted him to say it was true.

You didn’t know what was coming next for you, but you knew you could handle it. You didn’t know if Pope could.

“Yes, sir,” Pope said.

JJ felt like he was punched in the gut. He didn’t want Pope to go to jail, but he sure as hell didn’t want you going there either. He wanted to tell you he was sorry, that he was an idiot, that he tried not to love you but failed. He knew he treated you like shit and he pushed you away. Yet here you were, still taking bullets for each of them.

Shoupe nodded and began reading your Miranda Rights. You handed Heyward your groceries and said, “I’ll have someone pick these up.”

“Wait!” JJ tried calling out to you as Shoupe helped you into the back seat of his car. “Wait! No!”

You kept your head down as Shoupe drove away, only looking up when you knew you were at least a mile away from your friends.

As Shoupe closed the door to a room where you were to wait to be interrogated, you smiled to yourself. Your mom was going to be pissed, you were about to get in a shit load of trouble, and the Pogues still may never talk to you again, but you knew you just saved Pope’s entire future - the one he deserved more than anything.

And you were proud of yourself for that.

***************

Of course Mrs. Thornton didn’t want you to go to jail. She wanted about $30,000 of restitution money to make up for it. You rolled your eyes when you heard that. All that family cares about is money. You knew she probably didn’t even care about the boat in the first place.

Your mom screamed at you the entire ride back to your house. She took your phone and TV away and threatened to homeschool you for the next school year. Your mom was strict but her punishments never lasted long. She usually caved somewhere in the first week. You think its because she thinks your childhood was punishment enough and that behavior like this was to be expected because of it. You tried not to get that mentality stuck in your head, but sometimes you could get yourself into some trouble here and there.

Another part of your punishment was to do the yard work around the house. Andrew had already written you a list by the time your mom forced you to wake up at 6 a.m.

You couldn’t even be mad at the punishment. Mulching the yard was the least you could do. Andrew even planned on paying the Thornton’s back if you worked for him for free the rest of the summer.

It was about mid morning when a car pulled up your driveway. You felt like the wind was just knocked out of you when you noticed the junky Volkswagen van park.

JJ hopped out of the Twinkie and walked in your direction. You didn’t know what to do. Were you supposed to say hi and pretend like nothing ever happened between you two? Would you go back to bickering? You looked down at your body and was mortified at what you were wearing. Although it was only some black leggings and a white tank top, you were covered in dirt and sweat, and reeked of cow manure, which you knew was what mulch was made out of.

You tried pushing away the butterflies that swarmed your stomach when JJ stood next to you. You turned to look at him, unsure of what to say. You hated that he had this effect on you. Usually you were quick witted and were able force any kind of small talk. I mean, you were a Kook now after all. But this felt different. You didn’t want to have small talk with JJ. You wanted to really know him. His past, his now, his future. You didn’t want to be tongue tied.

“Hey,” He said softly.

“Hi,” You wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your gloved hand. You glanced back at the van, waiting for one of your other friends to appear. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren't answering your phone and I got worried,” JJ sheepishly tucked his hand in his pockets and had a hard time of meeting your eyes.

Ever since you mentioned a dad with a bad temper, JJ couldn’t stop thinking the worst for you. When you weren’t answering your phone, he wondered if he had done something to hurt you. The thought made him so sick with anxiety, he drove to your house to make sure you were all right.

“Yeah, my mom took my phone away. Turns out she doesn’t like it when her daughter gets arrested.” You tried to joke. “Why were you worried?”

JJ finally looked at you again. “What happened to your lip?”

You coughed from the unexpected question. You reactively bit your bottom lip and looked away. “I uh, fell on Sarah’s boat the other day.”

“Y/N...” JJ said softly and touched your elbow to make you look at him.

“What, JJ?” You snapped, turning to look at him with a glare. He probably put two and two together the second you mentioned your dad yesterday in front of him. Just like you did when you met Luke Maybank. You hated that you had this in common with the blonde Pogue, but you also knew he could be someone you could confide in, which is something you never had. “Why do you care? Just because you know about my dad now doesn’t make us friends.”

“I was wrong, okay? I was wrong about you, Y/N.”

You scoffed, “I have an asshole for a dad, JJ. Nothing else has changed.”

“I was the biggest dick to you. You tried every day to be my friend and I pushed you away. And I’m sorry. The truth is, I don’t like change and I don’t trust people because my dad -” JJ paused and looked away towards the road, unable to meet your eyes.

“Because your dad’s just like my dad,” You said, making his head snap back to you. “I met your dad the other. It turns out they have the same drug dealer.”

“You met my dad?” JJ’s eyes went wide.

“Yeah.”

“Did you...”

“I didn’t say anything other than how we use to be friends. But trust me, there was a hell of a lot more I wanted to say.”

JJ nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen, you were right. I didn’t take the chance to get to know you because I was afraid that I would like you a lot more than I wanted to, and then you would realize you were too good for us...for me. So I pushed you away. I tried hating you so you would hate me too. But truth is, I never hated you. I could never hate you. You’re smart, funny, kind, beautiful...” Your eyes flickered up to meet his and you noticed a pink hue running up his neck, which probably matched the one on your cheeks. “I’ve always thought that. And I don’t care about where you came from. You could have been born and raised a Kook or you could have been homeless your entire life. Nothing could ever change my opinion of you. I like you, Y/N. And I miss you. The Pogues miss you and they hate me and I hate me too because I drove you away. And I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t tell if this was a dream or not, but you weren’t going to mess this up, even if it was a dream. Because JJ was standing in front of you, telling you he missed you and that he wanted you back with him and his friends, and you’d be a fool not to take him up on that because you missed them too and you were miserable without them.

“I miss you too, JJ.”

JJ smile grew wide at your words and for a second, you thought he was going to jump up and down and cheer. “Really? You don’t hate me?”

You shook your head. “I never hated you, JJ. I never could.”

“You should.”

“No. I shouldn’t. I get why you didn’t want me around. I’m a Kook now and I was being shady when I tried hiding my dad from the rest of you. You were just protecting your friends.”

“Turned out they weren’t the ones who needed protecting,” JJ said softly.

You shook your head. “I don’t need protecting.”

“Why do you still see him if you live here now?”

“It’s complicated.”

JJ reluctantly nodded. He hated that this was a part of your life he couldn't exert himself into just yet. He had to earn that. He needed you to trust him first before you let him into such a vulnerable part of your life. But he understood that. He understood that more than anybody.

But he was going to make sure John B kept his eyes on you. JJ knew you two were close.

“I won’t push you to tell me. But you can talk to me about it. I won’t judge you.”

“Thanks, JJ,” You said graciously. People say that all the time. You can talk to me. For the most part you never believe them. You think its just something people say to make them sound sincere. But with JJ it was different. You believed every word.

“Just promise me if you see him again to take someone with you. Like John B or something.”

“Okay,” You said. You didn’t know if you meant it because all you could think about was that JJ cared enough about you to be worried.

“Okay...” JJ said awkwardly. “So we’re good? Friends?”

Your heart cracked at the ‘F’ word but you knew you were crazy to hope for anything else. You were lucky enough to even get called a friend. You bit down on your bottom lip as your grinned and nodded. “Friends.”

“Good,” JJ nodded. “So, I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay...” JJ clapped his hands in front of him nervously. “Good. Then I’m just gonna...”

“Yeah, I should probably get back to...” You pointed back to the mulch.

“Bye, Sassy.”

You turned back to the mulch in your wheelbarrow and bit back the urge to squeal in delight, at least until the van pulled out of your driveway again.

“Actually you know what?” JJ said, making you turn around. He was walking back over to you with a determined look on his face. “Screw friends.”

“What -”

Before you could process what was happening, JJ cupped your cheeks and smashed his lips against yours. You instantly kissed him back and pulled him closer to you by fisting your hands into his shirt. The butterflies in your body transformed into a stampeded and your heart was hammering against your rib cage.

You’ve kissed so many other guys before, but this one felt different. There was a passion behind this one - a meaning that felt so deep it could only be explained through actions. Kissing JJ felt right, like you had done this hundreds of times before.

JJ pulled away first and rested his forehead against yours, his eyes trained on your swollen lips. His breath hit your face and your legs went weak in the knees.

“I’ve wanted to do that for about two years.” He said.

“What took you so long?” You said, your eye lashes fluttered up to look at him.

“I didn’t know what I had until it was gone,” JJ said, looking up at you. He pulled away to look you in the eyes. “I love you, Y/N. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way but - “

You pulled him in for another kiss as fireworks exploded in your head. You didn’t want to let go of this moment. You couldn't believe that everything you wanted was happening.

“I love you too.”

JJ’s eyes lit up like lights on a Christmas tree as did his smile that widened with each second. He picked you up by your waist and spun you around. You giggled above him and beamed down at him. You’ve never felt this happy in your entire life.

When he set you down, he kissed you again. “Say it again.”

You pulled him in close enough for your faces to be nose to nose. “I. Love. You. JJ Maybank.”

JJ shook his head and chuckled. “Unbelievable.”

He kissed you again, and you didn’t care if you didn’t get the yard work done in time because you fulfilled your duty as a Kook. You officially have everything you could ever want.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tags: @allycat449-blog @zarahsloves

#jj #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj x y/n #jj x kook!reader #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #john b routledge #kiara carrera #pope heyward #jj fanfiction #jj fic #jj imagine

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honorguk · 3 years

Text

dating➔ park jinyoung

» navigation | REQUESTED

what it’s like to date jinyoung from GOT7 (based on my assumptions)

────✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ────

─ • OVERALL:

your typical korean boyfriend :3

will carry your purse, open doors, pull out chairs - a gentleman, as you’d expect

you’d definitely slap his butt every time you see it, and he’d definitely get his revenge

posting each other on your instagram pages, most likely a bad picture with a stupid caption

brings you cut up fruit when you’re studying too :3

and then he will stay in your room while you study and annoy you and you’ll remember why you never let him in your room while you study

move in together at around the 6-months mark

building ikea furniture together and dancing around the living room to christmas music way too early in the year is a MUST

both of you would point to weird and ugly-looking characters in cartoons and say “that’s you”

are you lovers? best friends? siblings? who knows!!

(well maybe not siblings…)

(you’re everything but siblings)

a very supportive dude ,, would visit any competition/game/showcase you are in, as well as a zoom call just to cheer you on

have those matching lockscreens and even probably matching profile pictures on instagram (but he’d only agree to it as a dare, or a penalty)

i can see you guys working out or doing some kind of sport together hmmmm

again, slap the butt please and thank you

wouldn’t often express his love for you verbally, but would definitely constantly buy you things, and write about you in songs, and that’s more than enough for you <3 (i mean, why wouldn’t it be hehe)

─ • DATES YOU GO ON:

(he looks so attractive in his gif oh my god oh my god)

he’d take you to the park for a picnic, and you’d convince him to stay there long enough to stargaze

it’s very equal between who chooses the dates - you’d pick a restaurant one week, he’d take you to a fair the other

but he always pays, no exceptions (didn’t i say gentleman?)

a lot of holding hands and showing you off & constantly taking pictures with each other (and the press love it, as well as the fans)

but both of you use the pictures to clown each other on social media because that’s how real couples operate

it’s all very domestic, and he loves to buy things for you, so not only are you heavily in love whenever you leave the house together, you’re also heavily spoiled (in the best ways ;) )

─ • PET NAMES:

because both you still slightly cringe at any cutesy names you give each other, it’s most ironic when you call him ‘babe’ and he says ‘honey’

but those are the ones you guys started using nonchalantly a few months into the relationship, mostly because it’s easier than saying your names at this point

and when you do say each other’s names, it feels like you’re being scolded and laugh it off, opting to go for the nicknames instead

and as much as he wants to be cool and effortless with his love towards you, his heart still melts whenever he receives a message from a contact he specifically labelled ‘princess’

─ • WHILE ON TOUR:

you talk with jackson more than jinyoung, but that’s because jackson steals his member’s phone whenever your boyfriend tries to contact you (as he usually does with the other members’ phones)

you’d give him enough space to work on his performances and practice and interact with fans, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t secretly wish for him to bombard you with updates

and he knows that what you want, so every moment he has something to say, you’re the first person he tells

sending back and forth a lot of pictures and videos and stupid voice messages

like you’d send a photo of a person or character, and underneath you’d send an audio mimicking their voice, and he’d do that back (and you could carry on for ages)

simply a lot of spams of heart emojis, really

and it makes you both blush insanely hard every time

─ • ARGUING/MAKING UP

it would be very rare, and whenever arguments did happen, they were sorted very quickly and apologies were exchanged within an hour

yet, it’s not always that vanilla(cross thru) simple

yelling matches would sometimes occur, yet only once or twice has it ended in a really ugly way, with both of you spending the night and even the next few days apart

he would be the first to apologize in times like those, and would risk his entire reputation and career just to be back with (he’d miss practice and work in general to be with you, to show you how much he needs you)

and then you’d cry and collapse into his arms and all that gushy stuff as he runs his hands through your hair and kisses your temple

if it’s not too big of a deal but both of you are still stressed and huffing, you’d make the first move to grab his collar and kiss him harshly, and he’ll happily return the gesture until you kiss out your anger (and perhaps it escalates to more..)

─ • NSFW:

primarily a dom, but you made him a switch 100%

lowkey kinda likes when you dom him (if you do) but will never admit it :/

soft dom, romantic most of the time

has a playlist prepared, or some unfunny series to play in the background (friends *cough cough*)

if you really really really ask him to be rough, he will be and go all out, and to be fair, he’ll lose himself a bit

that rough side includes choking, spanking, some degradation, marks…. But his head would be so clouded and he’ll be a bit shy and embarrassed about doing all of that in hindsight

but his baby enjoyed it so he did too (mostly..he still felt bad)

but usually, like i said, it’s very loving and soft </3 how cute

not too huge on aftercare, but enjoys baths and showers together afterwards

probably took a few pics of you in your lingerie for ‘personal use’ ;)

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damianosismyking · 3 years

Text

Roommate

READ IT ON AO3.

Damen and Laurent first met when Laurent was sixteen years old.

He arrived at Damen's apartment too late for it to be considered appropriate or polite on any day, but the fact it was Sunday made everything worse.

Damen had been announcing his vacant room for the best part of the past three months since Nikandros moved out to live with his girlfriend but the response he’s gotten so far was underwhelming, to say the least. It made sense to him: his apartment was too far away from the university for it to be comfortable or spark real interest among tired, overloaded, low-income students with huge debts and likely no car. He had thought, though, that it would spark some interest. It was a constant theme in the conversations he had with Nikandros these days – which always ended up with Nikandros telling him he should just learn how to live with himself anyway, and Damen telling him there was no way he’d do it.

Still, Damen was less than thrilled to be surprised after a long day of sitting in front of thousands of books and twice as many academic papers gathering the ‘solid foundation’ his thesis lacked – in Professor Haemon’s words – by an unsolicited visitor. Damen’s eyes burned, his head pounded, and he longed for nothing more than to open a beer and mindlessly watch the documentary about whales that was on. A call to his intercom had different plans.

It felt like his brain had melted down his ears for when the doorman informed him that his friend, Laurent, whom he never met, had come to talk to him about his rental room, Damen allowed said guy up without a thought to the risks it entailed until after the call was cut.

Damen was left to hope there wasn’t a gun involved and whoever the man was, Damen could take him on a hand-to-hand fight if it came to it.

A kid showed up. Pink across the face, the only uncovered part of him. A few strands of blond hair escaped his beany, moving along the puff of his breath. He strutted inside uninvited the second Damen saw to the door, with the highest nose Damen has ever seen and scorn that did not match his angelic features.

Lazily, the kid – Laurent, his name – said, “I saw you need a new roommate.”

“And you are?”

“Your new roommate.”

“I meant –” Laurent went ahead and took off his coat, as well as his beany, that he tossed over Damen’s diner table. His blond hair shoulder-length and seemingly soft directly under the light, framed his face in waves. It gave him an almost feminine quality, if not for the sharpness of his cheekbones and jaw. “I meant have we met before?”

“No. But we have now. I’m Laurent.” He held out his hand. Damen shook it. “And you are Damianos. I go to U.M., you go to U.M. You have a room to rent, I have interest in renting a room. See? We are practically best friends already.”

He sported a young prince demeanor with long, pale fingers laced in front of his body. It was fitting, like the thought of such person being raised in a castle surrounded by luxury and used to having his way his whole life simply made sense. As for his expression: there was none. Laurent’s eyes were a rich blue but carried no warmth in them, unyielding. His gaze never averted Damen’s. It felt like staring at a blank wall.

Damen crossed his arms over his chest, unsure what to do with his hands and everything that currently unfolded in front of him. The carelessness in Laurent’s composure, or maybe the sheer audacity of him, rubbed Damen the wrong way. Under the incisive glare, Damen resisted a shiver.

Damen said, “You notice it’s almost 11 P.M. on a Sunday, don’t you, best friend?”

Laurent leaned against the dining table as though it belonged to him. Would it be acceptable to bodily drag Laurent out of the apartment after being the one to give him the pass to come up in the first place? Laurent appeared painfully young too, so that might be aggravating.

“You put on your flyer you were open to visitation anytime,” Laurent retorted. It started to bother Damen how rarely he blinked. Blank wall.

“I also put on my flyer my contact info to prevent strangers from appearing unannounced at my doorstep,” Damen paused. “On a Sunday. At night.”

“And yet here I am. Your security is horrible by the way, you should probably complain about that to the apartment manager,” Laurent drawled. That alone disqualified him to the vacancy, let aside the fact he passed for a spoiled high schooler with no hint of courtesy.

“So? Aren’t you going to interview me? I make a terrific roommate. I know how to cook and keep a house clean; I stay out of everyone’s business and in change expect everyone out of mine. I’m the most pleasant company you can get around that campus, I guarantee.”

Laurent waited and as he did so, he grabbed one of the decorative glass balls from a bowl on the table and rolled it between his hands mindlessly. When Damen gave no response, he continued, “I’m a bit of a genius, so that might interest you in case you need help with schoolwork or anything else.”

Damen stared at him. It was impossible the kid wouldn’t take the hint. All he had to do was look around, at the scattered materials, Damen’s sleeping clothes, the beer sweating the couch’s fabric, the clock marking 11 p.m. Laurent made a show of standing spitefully where he wasn’t welcomed and it either didn’t bother him or he purposefully ignored it.

“I’m also a good fuck. In case that might interest you.”

It startled Damen out of his enraged disbelief. Not that he magically came up with something to say. “I’m – I – don’t… You’re missing the point.”

“And what is that?”

“I have no idea who the fuck you are, and honestly, you’re not causing a great impression so far.”

“That comes with time.” Laurent waved him off. He wandered around the living room, accessing the quality of his surroundings. Ran a hand over Damen’s TV stand, grabbed portraits to analyze from up close, shuffled through a stack of magazines, opened the window to take a look at the view, and finally settled on the couch where he bounced, testing. Grabbed the remote, shifted through channels. Damen let it unfold only partially out of astonishment – part of him also wondered how far Laurent would go.

“It’s your turn,” Laurent said eerily, like haunted wind coming through the window.

“My turn to what?”

“Introduce yourself, of course. How am I supposed to know you’re not a pervert?” he added, plainly. “Already have enough of those in my life.”

Damen was baffled. It took him a second to find his voice. “I am going to have to ask you to leave.”

Laurent turned to him, pale brows arched. “But you didn’t interview me yet.”

“I don’t intend to. Please leave. Now.” Damen marched to the door to hold it open.

“But –” Laurent stood. Damen could almost see the engines in his mind turning. “Look. I can offer you a blowjob to change your mind. Anything more than that only if you promise I can stay.”

“What are – I do not want to have sex with you,” Damen said, exasperated. Why was this happening to him? Was this what he got after working so hard?

“Why not?” Laurent spoke as if something was out of sorts. “Let me guess, you are straight. I promise you won’t note the difference, it’s like any girl’s mouth when it’s on your cock. I’m highly skilled.”

Damen opened the door wider and gestured. “Out.”

Laurent crossed his arms and made no motion to leave. Very deliberately he leaned against the armrest. “I don’t have a gag reflex, I can take you all the way in,” he spoke with an empty face, “and I swallow, don’t spit.” At the end, he smirked mildly.

Damen flinched. “I will call security.”

“No? Okay.” Laurent leaned on his hands, propping his shoulders up. “Money’s no issue. I can offer you two months of rent in advance.”

“I need you to get the hell out before I make you,” Damen spelled out.

“Fine. Three. But this is my final offer, you have to give me something to work with here.” For how playful Laurent’s words rang, he maintained his monotone. His face couldn’t be more uninterested, without the slightest semblant of shyness.

Damen didn’t respond. Again, he gestured the outside.

Laurent sighed, as if it was Damen tiring him, not the other way around. Perhaps the biggest absurd among all others. Damen might be virtually opposed to hitting kids, but Laurent just might be the exception.

Laurent did not pick up any of his belongings, as required. Rather, he walked to Damen confidently, if slightly bored. The sway of his hips seemed very deliberate as he tied his hair on a ponytail, eyes never dropping Damen’s. His eyes carried deeper richness to the blue of his irises from this close, but somehow were even colder. He stopped few inches away from Damen. If they were the same height, their noses would bump, but as Damen had at least one foot of advantage to him, Laurent’s breath tickled his collar bone.

And then suddenly, unexpectedly, Laurent dropped to his knees, reaching for the ties on Damen’s sweatpants.

“What the fuck.” Damen slapped Laurent’s hands away. Laurent swayed taken aback and retreated, confused. “Stand up,” Damen demanded, “Stand!” at the verge of yelling.

Damen’s stomach had sunk to his feet. Other than the cameras in the corridor, there were no witnesses to what happened. Laurent remained where he was, sitting back on his heels and giving Damen huge icy eyes, through obscenely long lashes as blond as his hair, blooming cheeks, and beautifully plump pink lips. “Please, get up and leave. I won’t ask again.”

Laurent felt the wall behind him to help himself up. “I want to stay.” His voice was no longer a drawl then. It had a hint of raw desperation that had not been there before.

Damen shook his head. “That’s too bad kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” he barked, words lacking the previous indifference. “Let me stay.”

“No.”

“Please.”

A beat passed. A long ‘hear-the-ticks-on-the-clock-slow-down’ kind of beat. Laurent’s stance remained mighty and unshakable, searching Damen’s face.

“How old are you?” Damen asked and again when Laurent refused to respond.

As Damen pressed further, he finally said, through gritted teeth, “Sixteen.” In spite of the aversion for the word, Laurent expression was challenging, daring Damen to say anything about it.

Damen did. “Sixteen. You can’t just get to a stranger’s house, impose on them, and expect to be welcomed,” he said, “that’s not how these things work. Kid.”

Laurent went paler a shade, previously rosy cheeks suddenly drawn out of color. His feet kicked the carpet, and his sole focus was on that. “Do you understand? You can’t walk into strangers’ houses, period. And if you wanted a real shot at getting the room you should have called me and scheduled a date to come and talk to me at a normal hour on a normal day like everyone else. And probably have your parents to call me too, considering. Now, please get out of my apartment.”

It took him a minute, but Laurent finally listened to reason and gathered his stuff. On his way out, though, as Damen already breathed relieved that this unnerving event was over (and began to formulate in mind the text he was going to send Nikandros), Laurent stopped again, white as a sheet, barely a foot away from the door Damen had been holding open for too long.

“Let me stay.”

Neither Laurent’s voice nor his posture were anything of what they had been. It was like watching him come undone. His shoulders tensed and his feet were dragging rather than pacing. “I have the money. You won’t even know I’m here. Please.” Damen shook his head sluggishly. Laurent looked out the door and then slowly cast his eyes back to Damen. “Tonight then. I can pay you for the stay and I’ll be gone in the morning before you know it.”

Damen’s resolve faltered, then cracked, then crumbled. It finally occurred to him, “Why did you come here?”

Laurent frowned. “Your flyer…”

“No.” Laurent knew what Damen really asked.

Laurent bit his bottom lip for a long time, then straightened up. “I have nowhere else to go.” His face, though he attempted to remain composed, betrayed him. His bottom lip trembled discreetly.

“You were kicked out?” No response. Damen ran a hand over his face. His grip on the door slacked. “Damn you. Don’t you have… friends? Any family you can run to? Come to a stranger’s apartment… do you have any idea what could happen to you? You’re sixteen.” Laurent stared at him, silent. For a moment, he seemed about to speak but words died on his lips. “How do I know you aren't here to rob me? Or jump me when I’m asleep? Are your cronies waiting for you sign downstairs?”

Laurent said nothing. He balled his fists and waited as if he knew that Damen already changed his mind. It was not like Damen could do anything else anyway. It’s not like he would be able to cast out a homeless kid. Even a kid like Laurent.

Damen scratched his head and slammed the door behind him, eyes closed with a long, heavy sigh. He cursed under his breath. “Just tonight,” Damen said, though he knew he was lying. “You will have to find someplace else tomorrow.”

“Right. Thank you,” Laurent said.

They stared at each other for a moment. Damen, awkward with arms crossed over his chest and Laurent twirling his beany in his hands. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Well then. The bathroom is at the end of the corridor, there are clean towels in the cabinet, and other stuff you might need.” Another awkward moment passed. “Let me show you to your room. The room. Not your room. Where you’ll stay tonight.”

Again, in a low voice, Laurent thanked him.

#My writing #Fic #damen of akielos #damen x laurent #Lamen #Laurent of Vere #Captive prince #Capri #fanfic #Modern AU #And they were roommates #mine #posting so i STOP editing this part

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buckyownsmylife · 4 years

Text

I write sins not tragedies - Andy Barber smut

The one where you’re Andy’s sugar baby and he loves seeing you in lingerie

Warnings: rough sex, daddy kink, sugar daddy relationship, infidelity (reader is the other woman), throatfucking, curses, some degrading name-calling in a very loving way

A/N: Day 5 of kinktober and I can’t believe I’m still keeping up with this! Prompts for today were daddy kink and lingerie!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I didn’t even notice him entering the apartment, that’s how focused on my study session I was. But then two strong arms wrapped themselves around my torso and before I could even consider tensing up from the surprise, his cologne calmed my brain down and I was automatically melting against him.

“Hi, daddy.” I turned my head to the side to meet his eyes, but no such luck. He had buried his face against the crook of my neck, and his delicious beard was tickling me, making me thrash around in his arms.

“Hi, princess. I thought you’d missed me,” he mumbled against my skin, making me giggle. For someone who was constantly accusing me of being dramatic, he could be so much worser than me sometimes. Especially when he had a hard day in the office or in his family life.

“You know I always do. Did you have a rough day?” At that, he finally released me, allowing me to turn around on the bed so I could look him in the eye, taking notice of the dark patches underneath them. “Oh, Andy. I wish you’d take better care of yourself.”

My words brought a little smile to his face, and his eyes shined with a particular light as he looked at me, his hands cradling my cheeks. “You’re the only one who can take care of me properly.”

I tried not to show how he made me feel warm inside with just that one sentence, because I was honestly very worried about him, so I simply rolled my eyes. “Then I guess you have to move in, so I can take care of you 24/7, huh?”

It was just a teasing remark, I honestly didn’t have any second intentions with my words. I knew what I was getting into when Andy approached me with the proposition to become his sugar baby. I knew he was married and had a kid not that much younger than me and I never deluded myself into believing he’d simply abandon everything for me.

But when things got bad and I couldn’t be there for him when he actually needed me, that was the only time I second-guessed this entire arrangement. Because the truth was, I had fallen for him, hard. And it was difficult to remember he wasn’t mine to take care of most of the time.

“Please, ignore what I said. I didn’t mean it like that. Come here,” I begged, wrapping my hands around his suit’s lapels and pulling his weight down on the bed, so he’d be on top of me. Even frozen from the shock provoked by my words, he still easily followed, allowing me to cradle his face and kiss him all over until he was comfortable enough to talk again.

“Y/N…” He suddenly started, trying to push himself away from me, his voice in such a serious tone that I immediately knew what he was going to say, but I didn’t need to hear it. So I followed his movements, sitting up on the bed too, before covering his mouth with one of my hands, climbing on his lap.

“Please, Andy, don’t. Really. All I meant was… It doesn’t matter, you just don’t need to worry about it. I love what we have. I’m not asking for more. Promise.” He didn’t look like he trusted me that much, but then again, it could also be a bit of his own guilt as he stared me down with those expressive brown eyes of his. But I wouldn’t let him get dragged into that useless whirlwind, at least that I could do for him.

“Here, let me take your mind off of it. Wanna see something nice?” He still looked wary as he watched me get out of bed until I was standing in front of him, but after a few minutes and a sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair and nodded.

“If it comes from you, always.” The tiny smile he gave me had my heart doing backflips in my chest, and I returned it with a much bigger one, hoping to show him that I really was fine. And then I started to push down my sweatpants, wiggling out of them before taking off my sweater too, until I was left with only my latest purchase.

The sound of Andy’s breath hitching was everything I needed to know I was in the right direction. The piece I was wearing was yellow with white little daisies that covered the places there were supposed to be lace or any sort of fabric. It was ridiculously expensive for something with so little, but the way Andy was looking at me made it seem worthy.

He always did have a thing for seeing me in lingerie. Well, I didn’t know if it was me, specifically, just that it was the first thing he started to gift me just as soon as he covered all the essentials I needed to live.

For a long time, they were all that I had except for his impromptu gifts that always consisted of new lingerie pieces and some other frivolous thing, like a designer bag or some jewels, and I always accepted it with gratitude but insisted that he didn’t have to bother. I liked him and all I needed was for his help with the bills, but still, he wouldn’t have it.

He’d say that spoiling me was the best part of his week and that me accepting what he got me was one of the things I needed to do for him in return, so really, what could I do? The problematic part was when he started to include in the allowance money that he gave me to buy groceries a few hundred dollars supposed to be destined for me to buy some new pieces myself.

He wanted to be surprised, he said. As much as he loved to pick out some pieces for me and imagine me in them before actually getting to see them against my skin, he also wanted to have me amaze him once in a while. And this was the first time I finally got the courage to do so.

“Babygirl, you look so…” Immediately jumping back into the mindset that I wanted him to be in, I silently congratulated myself not only on being able to distract him but also for my choice in underwear. “Delicious,” was the word he settled in, the hand that was holding mine as I twirled around for him to get a full-view suddenly disappearing as he stood upright in front of me, towering over my scantily-clad body with his full height while still wearing his suit.

The way he was looking at me had me shivering under his gaze, and he smirked when he noticed, just before dropping to his knees and grabbing one of my legs to put it over his shoulder. “In more ways than one…”

And then his tongue was right over my pussy, a single finger from the hand that wasn’t helping me stay up curled against my underwear to allow him to move freely. He hummed at my taste, making my knees instantly buckled. “How the fuck are you so delicious, huh, babygirl?”

Before I could even consider answering, he sucked on my clit, making me release a strangled gasp as I tried to keep myself up, a hand on his hair and the other on his shoulder. He knew how hard it was for me to do anything when his face was buried against me, knew how talented he was with that tongue, but still, he didn’t have any pity for me.

“Answer daddy,” he admonished, slapping the back of one of my thighs, almost making me fall to my knees. “C’mon, sweet girl. You know how much I hate when you leave me unanswered.”

Taking a deep breath to try to gather my thoughts, it was hard for me to even remember what it was that he’d asked me in the first place. Finally, after another slap, this one over my ass, which he took the opportunity to grab after, I managed to spill out an “I-I don’t know, daddy.”

It wasn’t the answer Andy wanted, that much I knew, so it didn’t surprise me too much when he detached myself from my pussy after one last lick, before getting up to his full height, his hands immediately going to his belt.

“You know that’s not good enough, baby. Get on your knees for me.” I bit on my lower lip to stop a smile from appearing on my face, for the sake of our game. This was supposed to be a punishment, I knew that. I couldn’t very well just show him how eager I was to have his taste on my tongue again.

But the smirk he sported as he slapped his cock against my cheek let me know he was well aware of the fact. The number of times I’d been called his cockslut, after all, couldn’t very well be forgotten by the very man who had trained me to take him like a pro.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking, sweetheart,” he warned, making me bite the inside of my cheek to stop the giggles that I could feel rising through my chest. “But if you let daddy fuck your throat the way he likes, he just might give you what you want. Open up,” he orders and I, ever dutifully and simply his, do exactly as he says, my tongue sticking out to welcome his weight on my mouth.

“Shit, baby, I always forget how incredible you feel,” he comments mindlessly, and despite knowing it was nothing less than a compliment, it hurts my chest for a moment the possibility of him going home and simply pretending that I don’t exist, ignoring how great I can make him feel.

Blinking away the tears that were already rising under my eyelids, I couldn’t really attribute them to the lack of oxygen yet, but I was hoping the excuse would fit if one managed to escape. So I blindly reached out for Andy’s ass and pulled him to me, effectively choking myself on his dick.

“Jesus fucking CHRIST, what has gotten into you today?” He asked as he pulled me back from his cock by my hair, and I coughed a bit as I gathered my breath, before shaking my head as well as I could while he kept his grip on me.

“Nothing, daddy. I just really want to pleasure you.” He looked suspicious again, but now wasn’t the time to inquire about it. Not when his cock was throbbing, the red tip leaking precum drops that you were too eager to lap up. “Fuck, okay. But stay put, alright, princess? Let daddy decide the pace.”

Your mouth-watering at the sight of him helped the blowjob immediately become sloppy, just like he liked. “Fuckkkk. Just like that, baby girl. Now, relax your throat, okay?” I did as he said, allowing him to dip my head back as I reminded myself to breathe through my nose before he immediately started to fuck his cock on my throat, provoking my gag reflex to act up and the tears to start again.

“Hold it, baby. We both know you can. Don’t you like it when daddy’s cock is nested inside your pretty throat? When you can’t breathe and it’s all because of me?” His hand gripped my neck, aiding the asphyxiation as he felt himself inside of me. “Oh, yeah. See? This is why daddy loves coming to see you. Only you can treat him so. fucking. well.”

After a particularly hard thrust that left me coughing out my lungs, he pulled me to my feet by my hair before throwing me on the bed, face down. “And since you’ve been such a good little girl for daddy, he’ll give you what you want.”

I could feel my wetness dripping down my thighs as I heard him open the condom packet. Just the sound of the foil was enough to make me whimper. Behind me, I could hear Andy chuckle at my eagerness.

“Such a good little princess for me. So crazy for my cock, huh?” The blunt head of his length rubbing against my throbbing clit was exactly enough to get me even needier for him. I sucked in a breath as he teased me for a little while, rubbing himself over my opening but never actually pushing in.

Andy’s P.O.V.

“Y-yes, daddy. Only for your cock.” Fuck, she just knew exactly what to say to make me lose control. This was precisely why I needed her so much. Why I couldn’t even feel bad about what I was doing. Not when she was the only one with whom I could actually be myself.

Thrusting inside of her for the first time in a night was always the best feeling, probably akin only to walking through the gates of heaven, perhaps because that’s what she was to me: my own little piece of heaven, my angel on Earth.

“You okay, sweetheart?” I asked, my heart overflowing with emotions I couldn’t allow myself to feel as I carefully brushed the strands of her hair away from her face, so I could hold them all in my makeshift ponytail. When she hummed in agreement, that’s when I felt comfortable enough to start thrusting in and out of her, appreciating the wet sounds of her pussy trying to keep my cock inside of her.

“Daddy… please…” She begged, her hands reaching forward to hold onto the duvet of her bed while I abided by her desires and started to fuck into her harder. She really was my other half, the only one who understood and reciprocated my needs.

“Daddy got you, little one. Just hold on tight.” Her hands practically curled into fists, I started to fully pound her against the mattress, one of my hands coming around her to hug her back to me, while I played with her clit. “Such a perfect little girl for your daddy. Now daddy needs you to cum around him, can you do that, princess? Can you be a good girl for me?”

The dirty talk always got to her, and within seconds she was trembling in my arms, gasping in need of air as her pussy milked my cock until all of my cum was safely inside the condom.

I could still remember when we had that discussion. I obviously had wanted to fuck her raw, but that was one of the only limits she established right away. “You’re still gonna be fucking your wife, I need to be safe.”

The fact that I hadn’t felt anything when she pointed out that if I was cheating, Laurie could very well be doing the same, should have shown me just how screwed up I was. “Princess…” I started after cleaning us both with a wet towel from the bathroom. She looked up at me expectantly, obviously curious about what I had to say, but the seconds our eyes met, she already knew the subject I was going to approach.

“No, Andy. Let it go! We’ve been through this already.” Sighing, I couldn’t help but smile as I sat down by her side on the bed, as always fascinated by the fact that she could so easily read what was on my mind.

“As incredible as you are, baby girl, I don’t think you know precisely what I got to say, and the truth is, I need you to hear this.” She shut her mouth at that, but still pouted, showing me how skeptical she was.

Chuckling softly, I held her hands in mine before caressing her cheek, trying to show her through the intensity of my gaze that my words were 100% honest. “The reason I got so shocked by what you said was that I was overcome with the desire to do just that. To move in here, with you.”

For a few seconds, no one said anything. It was just her and me, her eyes twice their usual size as she blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what I had just said. “But, Andy…” Sighing, I already knew what she was going to say, so I just squeezed the hand I was still holding, signaling that she didn’t need to say anything yet.

“I know, baby. I know.” I wrapped an arm around her shoulder, hugging her to me and giving a kiss on her forehead, hoping that she could once again understand what I wanted to say, even if I couldn’t yet put it into words. “I just wanted you to know.”

#andy barber #andy barber smut #smut #my fics #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber fan fiction #andy barber one shot #andy barber reader #andy barber one-shot #andy barber x reader #andy barber imagine #andy barber imagine fanfiction

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Note

idk of you take dark stuff or even accept concepts/hc’s but i can’t stop thinking about dark steve and dark bucky & threatening 🥴🥴 like when ur bratty and one of them just grabs you by the neck and when you struggle he’s like “keep squirming and ill snap this little neck. you know it’ll be easy for me” 🥴🥴

yes and yes my friend, this is amazing omgggg pls hold while i write a casual ficlet nbd. watch out for noncon, knifeplay, creampie kink (unwanted creampie? it’s more likely than you think.), choking, spitroast, degradation... it’s filthy yall

you KNOW they have no patience for brattiness, period

and they’ve been watching you for a while now. they’re very interested in you for a few reasons: (1) you’re adorable, (2) you’ve got this innocent air about you, like girls used to be in their time, and (3) you’re clearly a spoiled brat and they can’t resist the urge to tame you

ever since you joined the team you had been clearly in need of some discipline

you weren’t much of a team player and you liked doing things your way, even if it meant disobeying orders from your captain and sergeant

occasionally you would run directly into harm’s way and it made them both angry because they were just trying to keep you safe but you refused their protection

why didn’t you understand that you needed them to take care of you?

“listen,” you let them know with crossed arms, “I appreciate everything you guys try to do for me--”

bucky winced at that.

“--but I don’t need your help, okay? I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

steve laughed incredulously.

“yeah right, you’ve got a bullet hole in your arm that says otherwise.”

“if it was in my chest, then we would be having a conversation about protection,” you frowned. “it’s in my arm because--"

“if it was in your chest, we wouldn’t be having a conversation at all,” bucky corrected.

you shrugged. “but it’s not, so it’s none of your business.”

you turned to leave but you were stopped by a metal arm grabbing your jaw and roughly turning you around. you yelped and tried to push him away but he was so much stronger than you.

“it’s my business because you’re my soldier,” bucky growled.

“I understand you’re not used to being part of a team,” steve chimed in, stepping closer to where you were helplessly pushing against bucky’s chest. “allow us to clarify a few things that you still don’t seem to understand.”

his hands started to undo your tactical vest, all while bucky watched with the darkest eyes you’d ever seen. normally he was stern, but kind. now both of them were like two entirely different people.

“w-what are you doing?” you asked nervously and bucky just smiled.

“you need to learn a lesson about consequences, bucky and I are in dire need of a morale boost,” steve informed you with a low voice right by your ear, “it’s two birds with one stone.”

once the vest was on the floor, bucky flipped you around and held you to his chest with the metal arm around your neck. as steve reached for the waistband of your pants, you kicked wildly and actually managed to land one in his side; he stepped back with rage building in his eyes.

“looks like we’re going to have to cut these clothes off. if you keep fighting it’s going to do you a lot more damage than me.”

bucky’s free hand reached down and grabbed the knife strapped to his thigh; he ran the blade lightly along your jaw and neck, laughing at your whimpers of fear.

“where’d that fire go, sweetheart? what happened to that reckless attitude that’s nearly gotten us all killed before?”

steve watched with crossed arms and a smug grin as bucky used the knife to slice down the front of your tank top. the stretchy fabric pulled to either side as soon as he was done cutting, and your sports bra was exposed. he delicately slid the knife right into your cleavage, and with one forceful movement up and outwards, it was cut in two.

you felt your face burning as steve shamelessly stared at your tits. bucky tossed the knife to steve who caught it without even looking away from you.

steve stepped right up to you and stared into your eyes as you tried to keep on a tough face, though everything in you was desperate to look away. all of a sudden, he knelt down and began cutting your leggings open.

bucky’s flesh hand groped one of your tits and it made you wish you had the strength to slam your elbow back into his ribs and get out of here. you knew you could get some hits in but you would never get very far; they were super soldiers and you were... just a soldier. their soldier, as they were so crudely reminding you at the moment. you couldn’t escape but at least if you obeyed, you could probably save yourself from further punishment.

the shreds that had once been your leggings fell to the floor and all that was left was your underwear. steve could’ve just pulled them down your legs but that wouldn’t have been as fun. instead, he looked up at you with an eager glimmer in his eye, slipping the knife delicately between the fabric and your skin, slicing them off and watching them fall to the floor.

your naked body rubbing up against the rough fabric of bucky’s tactical gear was uncomfortable, but not quite as uncomfortable as his hard-on pressing into your ass, or the way he leaned forward and bit your earlobe.

“you win, okay? you wanted to scare me, I’m scared as fuck, we can all go home now,” you rushed, trying to lighten the mood a little and give them what they wanted.

bucky laughed. “oh honey, we don’t wanna scare you. we wanna fuck you. now stay still...”

you started kicking again; you couldn’t help it. your body refused to just lay back and allow this to happen.

“stop fucking squirming,” bucky hissed right into your ear as steve started to undress, apparently already sure this was going to happen even as you were determined to make sure it didn’t. “I could snap this tiny little neck and it wouldn’t be any skin off my nose. do you know how easy it would be for me, to break your fucking neck?”

you ignored him, still fighting; his other arm reached around and held your hips against him.

“I asked you a fucking question,” he growled. “answer or I’ll hurt you.”

you weakly nodded.

“glad we’re on the same page. now go suck his cock,” he commanded, dropping you on the ground.

you sheepishly looked up to see steve naked and glaring at you with his cock in his hand. you tried to get up but he shook his head disapprovingly. “no baby, you need to crawl to me.”

you felt beyond humiliated but you crawled across the floor on your hands and knees to where steve was standing with a smile that blended pride with sadistic pleasure. you could just tell bucky was watching you as he started to undress as well.

you had barely opened your mouth before steve was shoving it into your mouth and down your throat. he used fistfuls of your hair to roughly pull you on and off of him until you didn’t even understand what you were supposed to be doing. you just stayed still and tried to breathe, letting him fuck your face and trying not to listen to the gurgling and choking noises you made.

steve suddenly pulled out and yanked your hair until you were looking up at him. you looked a right mess: hair tangled from his rough movements, eyes and nose red from choking, spit and pre-cum dribbling down your chin.

“aw baby, you’re such a slut for your captain aren’t you?”

“fuck you,” you managed to growl despite your throat burning through every word.

you felt bucky’s hands behind you running over your back and your hips, tracing shapes on your thighs...

“looks like this hole still doesn’t understand who it belongs to,” steve frowned as he stuck three fingers into your mouth, watching your cheeks stretch out from the inside.

“but this hole does,” bucky added as he shoved two fingers into your pussy. and he was right; you were wet, nearly dripping. you tried to protest but it was lost as steve wrapped a hand around your neck.

bucky rubbed his cock against your opening and you tensed up, but you had no shot of getting away as he held your hips against his, sliding his cock through your folds with a groan.

“when I take this hand off your throat, you’re going to beg your sergeant to fuck you. because if you don’t, the hand’s gonna stay on until you pass out, got it?”

you nodded, desperate for air. when he let go, you gasped and quickly sputtered: “please fuck me, sergeant!”

bucky grinned and pushed his cock into you, sighing at how tight you were.

you winced but tried to avoid showing any signs of weakness. it didn’t help much, though, because steve was shoving his cock back into your mouth and had somehow gotten even rougher, groaning as his cock hit your throat.

“when I come you’d better swallow it all,” steve hissed, “and thank me.”

it wasn’t much longer until he did, and you tried not to retch as his come coated the back of your throat. the texture made you want to gag even more than you already were.

he pulled out and you swallowed thickly, looking up at him. “t-thank you, captain.”

“for..?”

“thank you for coming in my throat,” you mumbled.

steve smiled approvingly, slapping you a few times lightly on the face in some weird form of congratulations.

“fuck, you’re so tight-- I’m already close,” bucky groaned after a few more minutes, his head falling back as he fucked into you faster and more erraticly.

“n-not inside,” you stammered through your haze.

“didn’t we already establish that this is my pussy? ‘m gonna do whatever the fuck I want to it.”

“bucky, I’m not on anything!” you protested, trying once again to get away.

steve slapped your face with a loud pop!

“you call him ‘sergeant,’ and it doesn’t matter what you’re on or not. he’s gonna do what he wants with you, understand?”

you whimpered but nodded, fearing what would happen if you gave any more dissent.

“fuck!” bucky groaned as he spilled inside you; you could feel his cock twitch against your walls, and with his size it felt like you were being pushed to impossible limits.

when he pulled out and let go of your hips, you fell to the floor in exhaustion.

“see? you can be a good girl, with just a little effort,” steve praised. you weren’t even paying attention, too distracted by bucky using two metal fingers to push his come back into you as it leaked out.

“keep up the good behavior and we won’t have to punish you again,” bucky explained sternly. “don’t you want to be good for us?”

you nodded and they both smiled.

bucky kissed your cheek and it was so sweet, so unfitting for the situation. “such a good girl, and all thanks to us. we should’ve trained you this way ages ago.”

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dragon-of-dreams · 3 years

Text

Puzzling

My Masterlist

Part 5 to Cracking a Code

1; 2; 3; 4

Pairing: dark!Steve Rogers x Reader (fem)

Warnings: Swearing, gaslighting, stalking, aftermath of noncon, noncon touching, caregiving, but like by Steve, so not really, self-harm references (previous chapter, not premeditated), discussion of eating

Summary: Steve takes you home to “take care” of you.

A/n: I’m not super happy with this chapter… and maybe I’ll redo it sometime in the future, but I just wanted to give you an update. Sorry, that everything takes so long!

Word count: 2,300

The rest of the drive passed in a blur. Steve’s hand hardly left your thigh and you let him. You were so exhausted, you didn’t have the energy to fight him off anymore. You felt yourself retreating into your body, away from the reality of being groped in the fancy sports car of America’s bravest hero.

Steve helped you up the steps to your apartment. You’re entire body was shaking, leaving you on unsteady feet. If you didn’t know better you’d say you were coming down with a fever. But the reason for the shivers coursing through you was so much larger. Not something a few pills could fix. Steve gently led you into your home, almost as if he owned the place, deposited you on the couch, and covered you in a blanket. As he tucked you in, his hands respectful and his touch kind you surfaced for a brief second out of the hole of despair his comment in the car had put you in.

“There you are, angel.” Steve smiled as he noticed how your eyes started to focus a bit. “I’ll make you something to eat. I’ll be right back.” With that, he leaned in and placed the gentlest kiss on your forehead, before retreating to your kitchen. You watched him rummage around in the tiny space adjoining your living room. He looked at ease, at home, and oh so loving. Did yesterday really happen? you wondered. There they were again. Those thoughts you had to brandish all day yesterday as well. You started to stare off into the middle distance; once more slipping away from reality and the physical pain left in your body. You heard Steve tut slightly, the fridge door opening and closing, then the same sound from a bunch of your cabinet doors. Just as you wanted to call out to him, to ask if he needed help, a robotic response drilled into you by your mother, Steve appeared before you almost as if out of thin air. His gait as silent as any other predator’s.

“Darling,” he sounded concerned, “did you eat yet?”

You looked up at him, doe-eyed. “I.. uh… I must have. I have some overnight oats in the fridge, so if there are only three glasses in there, then yeah.” To be honest you couldn’t remember, nothing made sense.

“There’s four, darling… You really gotta eat breakfast! It’s important to keep your strength up, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah… I usually do. I promise” Why do I not wanna make him sad? Why do I want him to be proud of me? You thought bewildered, as you looked into Steve’s worried eyes before all semblance of structured thought left you again to the tide of confusion washing over you and pulling you under.

“Ok, babe, I trust you. I’ll make some now, okay? You just sit tight.” All you could do was nod. It was like it was all happening to someone else. You weren’t really here. You were so far away and so present at the same time that it hurt.

As Steve left you your mind went to war with itself.

Steve wasn’t a good guy. He wasn’t the hero on those posters, was he? But he was making you breakfast, he tucked you in. He sent Bucky to check on you. No… No, he sent Bucky to make sure you didn’t go to the police. Right? Right.

You could feel your mind shut off, drawing you down with it. All that happened, Steve’s non-linear behavior pushing you over the edge. Nothing made sense.

You barely noticed as Steve fed you breakfast, bite by bite, all that registered somewhere deep within you was his calm, deep guiding voice: “One more bite, there you go, good girl” all his encouragement mushing together in your brain, a soothing sensation flowing through your pain-addled brain.

After breakfast, you could feel Steve manipulate your body, as he wrapped himself around you and put on your favorite movie. As you lay there engulfed in the arms of this giant man, accompanied by the sounds of the movie you had watched a million times, you slowly started to become aware of yourself again. The body heat was so soothing and Steve’s deep humming voice pushed the fear that had kept you paralyzed further and further away. Making way for a seething rage, fickle but growing. As you tensed and readjusted your limbs Steve leaned forwards and kissed your temple. “I knew you were still in there, angel. I made some tea. It should still be hot. I put it in a thermos. Let’s talk okay?” Steve carefully helped you sit, every touch his, stoking the anger burning through you. Then, oblivious to the shift in your mood, he got up to grab the tea and cups as you looked around as if you were seeing your place for the first time. It no longer held the feeling of safety that comes with any good home. All you could see was Steve controlling you, in the TV that was slightly turned, the smell of his cologne on your couch, the dirty pans in the sink.

When Steve came back, your head was much clearer and you carefully reached for your cup and made sure to keep your distance from Steve as subtly as you could. Whatever was to come, was going to be important.

“You know darling, you will have to be nicer to Bucky. He’s only trying to help when I can’t be there. New York is dangerous, always has been. No one knows that better than me and Buck. He texted me, saying you were really rude on the train this morning, and quite frankly, darling, I’m disappointed that I even have to say this, but you have to appreciate what we do for you, okay?” Steve’s voice is calm, collected, and rational. There is nothing but honest concern in it for a moment it disrupts the anger building within you. “It’s time to play nice with Bucky now, okay? Be nice to him, maybe even as nice as you have been for me, understand?”

It’s the last sentence that sets you off, Steve’s expectant gaze, belittling you, that makes you blow your lid.

“What? What are you talking about? Play nice? I wasn’t being nice to you! I don’t want your protection or your attention, or Bucky’s for that matter!” Your voice is rising, as you grip your cup of tea so tight its heat sears your palms. “Get out of my life!” you yell. Then like a bucket of cold water realization sets in. Every muscle in Steve’s body tightens, you see his body expand with the change, looming over you, blacking out the window. You expect Steve to yell, beat you up, but when you dare to look up at his face, it is almost passive, but there is danger burning beneath his façade.

“I understand this is difficult for you.” Steve’s voice turns harder with every word. You notice the missing pet name like a slap to your face. “But I am getting pretty tired of this conversation. You need to rain in that attitude of yours, okay? Because I won’t tolerate you being a spoiled brat who doesn’t see what’s best for them. I’m looking out for you here, taking care of you, something you apparently struggle with,” with that Steve gestures at the remnants of your breakfast, the one he had to make for you, “and all I expect in return is some gratitude, towards me and towards Bucky. This is not up for discussion. And if you can’t behave, you’ll have to deal with the consequences, young lady. Is that understood?” By the end of his speech, Steve has risen to his feet, towering over you, his voice booming to fill your apartment, while you cower into the sofa. Your breathing is shallow and you are petrified. It feels too much like last night. When you didn’t have a choice either. And everything he was saying was making sense. New York was dangerous. And you really were terrible at feeding yourself correctly… Those oat thingies were just the newest thing you were trying in your never-ending quest to live more healthily… Usually, your job took preference over clean living. And Bucky hadn’t done anything to you either. He’d just been there to watch out for you… Steve, well… Steve really had done that, but he also held you today, when your brain shut down and made you food. He could have just left you at work, where you surely would’ve gotten nothing done or even caused trouble if you fucked up your work…

Shakily you nod and watch some of the tension leave Steve’s body and he crouches down in front of you. “Good, I knew you were smart like that. Now we can either go have a bath and soothe your body or you can freak out again and then I swear I’ll make you bear the consequences of your behavior for real this time. So what’s it gonna be, princess?”

You stare at him for a second. How is he so rational? Why does this all make sense? Authority has always been your weakness, and so you just nod because what the Captain says goes, and you learned that the hard way, and let Steve lead you to the bathroom. Maybe you will get to lay in his arms again and hear him praise you. It felt so good when he held you on the couch. You were safe in his arms. All you want is to be back in his embrace. Where the harsh reality can’t hurt you. So you allow Steve to strip you down, as hot water pours into your tub.

Suddenly Steve’s grip on your hip tightens painfully, as yanks your jeans off of you. You look down, scared, and find him staring at the bruises you must have caused yourself in the shower this morning when you were trying to wash the night away. “What is this? Explain, now!” he seethes and turns his scorching gaze towards you.

“I, when I showered, I, I just wanted to get clean…” you stammer.

“Clean? Clean! You hurt yourself! Jeez! How dare you do something like that to yourself? I really can’t let you out of my sight for one second, can I? Gotta watch you like a little kid!”

You feel a pang in your heart. You weren’t trying to be bad! You want to tell Steve, but he just turns off the water, grabs your upper arm, and drags you from the bathroom into your bedroom. As you stumble after him, you try to figure out what is happening.

“Steve?” you plead as he sits down on the bed and puts you over his lap.

“No, darling, not anymore. I have been way too kind to you so far, but apparently, the nice approach doesn’t work with you. So discipline is what you get.” He thunders, and then his hand is hitting your bum with enough force to make you scream. It happened so fast that your head is spinning.

As you lie across his lap everything felt like it’s wrapped in cotton. So much skin-to-skin contact fries your over-worked and touch-starved brain into submission as Steve’s hand is raining down on your ass, painting it crimson. You burst into tears without any control over yourself. “Steve,” you sob, “Steve please, I didn’t mean to, I swear, Steve!” and just as those words leave your mouth, he stops, picks you up, and hugs you close. Your nerve endings sing at the close contact and you sag into him, all tension leaving your body. His hands draw soothing circles on your back as he holds you tight.

“I got you baby.” Steve whispers as he settles you on the bed, “I know that hurt, but I needed you to see, you know?”

You cry and nod, burrowing into his hulking form hovering over you.

“I’ll make it better baby, I’ll make it all good, now,” Steve murmurs, as he leans in to kiss your forehead, while his right hand comes down and starts to play with your clit. “Oh darling, look at you! You’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” Only then do you register the slick coating your thighs, embarrassed you want to turn from him, but Steve cages you in. “It’s okay babe, no reason to be shy about it. There is nothing wrong with wanting your man. Really, it just shows that you understand my discipline with you. I’m real proud of you, angel, real proud.” He mutters as he spreads your lips and slips two fingers in. You can’t help but moan and arch into him.

Steve is nothing but kind and soft with you as he readjusts both of your bodies until he sinks into your heat, and you both moan in unison. “There we go, darling. See how good I can be for you? There we go.” As he starts moving, slow and deep within you peace settles over you. “I’ll make you forget all that pain, babe, it’ll all be gone in just a minute now.” His fingers are rubbing circles around your clit while he keeps murmuring sweet encouragements into your ears as you climb and climb towards an orgasm that is so deep that it leaves you boneless in Steve’s arms until he finishes with a broken grunt deep inside of you. As Steve settles you in his arms after you can’t remember the last time you felt this sated, as you drift into a deep sleep with Steve’s spend slowly trickling out of you. For a split second, before you fall asleep the horror of what is happening to you is clear in your mind, but then, thankfully, once more your exhaustion pulls you under.

#marvel #dark!fic #dark fic #fic #fan fic #captain america #modern!au #Steve Rogers #dark!Steve Rogers #dark Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers x reader #dark Steve Rogers x reader

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morkleemelon · 3 years

Text

off the ice || chapter 3: steady now

previous || m.list || playlist || next

pairing: college hockey player! mark x college figure skater! reader

genre: fluff, humor, college au, sports au

word count: 6.9k

warnings: swearing, party with drugs and alcohol, scene of borderline harassment (nothing actually happens), financial struggle, insecurity, social anxiety, mention of injury

a/n: huge thank you to my beta readers @writing-frog and @skiimmiilk for helping me edit this! now I won’t have to tweak it a hundred times after posting XD also (not spoiling) I’m sorry I did you like this, sungchan :(

I’m not sure if I’m awake, dead, or dreaming, but somebody please take me out of this misery.

Your neck struggled to support your head as you fought to stay conscious on the locker room bench. It was early Saturday morning and team practice was far from over. Unwillingly, you had to stay up the previous night, studying deep into the AM because a certain boy kept distracting you in your head.

Over and over again, through your shift at the diner to the ride home to right here as you clung onto Yuna’s arm for support, Mark’s cute smile and Lisa’s daring accusations spun through your tired mind. It’s really not fair- a guy talks to you once and you’re already imagining things…

You quickly shake the thoughts from your head.

“Alright girls, thanks for coming in so early today,” your head skating coach, Tanya, smiled warmly, “captains, get everyone warmed up and I’ll go over some exciting announcements at the end of practice”.

“Thank you, Tanya,” the fatigued girls chorused half-heartedly as the captains ushered everyone out of the locker room and into the hallway for stretching.

Reaching down to touch her toes, Yuna looks over to you. “Y/n, are you okay? You look worse than usual”.

The exhausted expression on your face said it all as you bent down to do the same. “I’ve got a lot on my mind. Econ test is coming up too”. You yawned into your words.

“I know you’re gonna say no, but if you wanna let loose a little, there’s a party tonight,” Yuna peers at you upside-down from in between her legs.

“You know I’m not a party person,” you decline, blacking out slightly as you stand back up. You blink to clear your vision.

As much as you admired your popular best friend for putting herself out there and being able to have fun at a party, it couldn’t be you. The drinking, the smoking, the groping, ogling men- not to mention the anxiety of existing in a frat house full of judgmental people, was all too much for you. As tempting as letting loose a little on a Saturday night sounded, you’d much rather do it in a way that involves your cozy pj’s and watching your favorite skating compilations on YouTube. Alone.

“I know, I know,” Yuna holds her hands up innocently, “but it could be fun. I know Mark is gonna be there”.

You whip your head around so fast that your ponytail nearly slaps her in the face. Flustered, you smooth down the nonexistent wrinkles on the front of your skating jacket. “Oh, that’s nice. What’s that got to do with me?”.

“Just letting you know,” Yuna shrugged in a ‘matter of fact’ manner.

The captains led the team out to the rink to do laps. You weighed Yuna’s words for a minute as you skated across the ice. Naturally, being here where you were the most comfortable with yourself made you more susceptible to her convincing ploy. If you looked at the last few days in review, you had already made four new friends from just letting Yuna take the reins for one afternoon. That’s about one friend for every dollar in your bank account!

But the nagging reality was that Yuna had a massive amount of friends, cool friends, who were probably going to be at that very party while you had nobody but her and a guy you just met. This didn’t sit well with your anxieties. You’ll just end up awkward if Yuna wants to talk to someone else, or desperate if you cling to Mark, who would probably be weirded out.

As expected, it’s best to stay in.

The practice ran smoothly. As always, the hour and a half of spinning, falling, and getting back up resulted in soreness and loss of breath. Nonetheless, it recharged you and the cloud of tiredness in your head finally dissipated. You felt so free on the ice because you knew that you did it well. It isn’t about the money or your popularity or if you have to work part time just to afford the skates that you wear. If you put in the hard work and effort, you are rewarded with success; that’s a big part of what you liked about it.

“Excellent job today, ladies. I’d like everyone to give a special round of applause to y/n today,” Coach Tanya suddenly singled you out as the team gathered around to hear her ending announcements. Tanya gave you a warm smile and gestured towards you as you bow to your clapping teammates. “For mastering the triple lutz. I can tell you’ve been practicing extra hours, both from the log sheet and from your performance today. At this rate, we may send you to nationals in the spring”.

Gasps echo across the cold, near-empty stadium. Your jaw hung open at Tanya’s ambitious plan and Yuna grabbed onto your arm excitedly, giving you a nudge of congratulations. It was extremely rare for a sophomore to be sent to the national competitions. Even some seniors never make it past the pre-auditions at Seoul University alone. You weren’t even dreaming of going within the next year despite all of your extra night-time practices. Looking at Tanya’s face, it didn’t seem like she was joking either.

“Thank you, Coach Tanya. I will work even harder”.

“That being said, I have some exciting news pertaining to all of you ladies: this year, Seoul University is sponsoring our team to hold a friendly competition for the winter festival as a sort of main event. Don’t be alarmed because it is optional. It’s September now, so if you are interested in participating, you will have just under four months to prepare a pair skate for the festival in December. Untraditionally, the audience will be voting to choose a winner instead of a panel. Furthermore, the theme, costumes, and music will all be up to you, so have fun with it! Oh and not to mention, the winning pair will be rewarded a monetary prize of $5,000 each”.

Shocked looks were exchanged between teammates. Your brain was still processing to make sure you heard Tanya right as she reiterated.

“Yes,” Tanya laughed, “you heard me right, girls, $5,000 each. It’s a tremendous opportunity and if not for the money, for a chance to practice performing in front of a crowd”.

Murmurs of excitement hush across the near-empty stadium.

“Yuna,” you look up to the taller girl and grip her arm with both hands, “Yuna please we gotta do this”. You shake her slightly with your pleading, “be my partner?”.

The blonde giggled, “duh, of course! Lisa and Hope will probably do it together since they’re both on JV so it’s perfect. Let’s get that ten grand for you!”.

“Wait no, but-”

“Y/n. You know I’m not about to argue with you about this,” Yuna sighed, looking up to the fluorescent ceiling lights to avoid your indignant stare. You relaxed your grip on her arm, knowing that you wouldn’t win this fight no matter how guilty you felt. “You’re better than me by a long shot. If anyone could bet on a winner, they’d put their money on you without a doubt. And if we win it’ll be because of you, so think of it as a fair split based on contribution. I’ll take a $20 cut to buy us dinner,” Yuna encouraged.

You close your eyes and rest the side of your head on her shoulder.

That’s my best friend. I don’t deserve her.

You felt bad, but you knew that you needed this money more than anything right now. Your parents didn’t earn much and they were already burdened by this semester’s tuition, even with the scholarships. Picking up extra shifts at Frankie’s did little more than cover skating fees and rent. The heavy, looming fear of next semester being the one when you’d have to drop out often kept you up at night. It’s nobody’s fault, but that’s how it is.

Yet like a miracle angel sent from Heaven, this competition could cover an entire semester’s worth of tuition if you win. You needed the prize money desperately. You were going to have to win it no matter what.

“Bye!”. You waved to your teammates as they exited the locker room, probably to go out and be social on a Saturday afternoon. Unfortunately for you, your only plans were to sit alone at the library, studying.

“You seriously don’t wanna join us for lunch today?”. Yuna slung her skating bag over her shoulder. Her wet hair from just showering stuck to her face, but even like this she looked like she could be on the cover of a teen magazine.

“I’ll pass. I can grab a salad from the convenience store before I head to the library. Midterms are coming up and I gotta do a lot of review,” you explain, brushing a wide comb through your tangled mess of hair. Yuna moved to pull her hair back into a ponytail. You watched as her perfectly sculpted reflection made an action so simple into a reason for envy. The stained locker room mirror, however, did your bare face no favors. Your best friend remained oblivious as you picked yourself apart again. Your cheeks were a little too round, nose a little too wide, eyebrows a little too uneven. You shove the brush in your bag and turn around before you could fall deeper in insecurity. “Let’s go”.

As always, you chose to disregard your insecure thoughts and pretend like they never existed. Talking about it seemed weird, so you just chose not to do it. And you didn’t like bothering other people with your problems either. It was best to just keep it to yourself.

“Y/n!,” a familiar voice called out from behind you. You stopped walking down the stadium corridor, turning around to see who could’ve known your name. Usually it’s Yuna getting stopped by one of her many friends.

Ashy blonde hair came into view as the boy jogged to catch up with you. Your legs were doing just fine after over an hour and a half of training, but they trembled at the sight of a certain dreamy junior boy.

“Hey, fancy seeing you here,” Mark smiled down at you, the dim hallway lights catching on his cheekbones and jawline, accentuating his beautifully sculpted features.

“I’ll see you later,” Yuna winked, patting you on the back and making a break for the exit before you could protest.

“I-uh, hey, Mark,” you stutter. Was it just you or did he get even more good-looking since the last time you saw him?

“Did you guys just get out of practice?”. You could hardly pay attention to his simple question as you checked him out. Mark sported a simple outfit consisting of a plain black hoodie with matching black joggers and sneakers. His red hockey bag which was slung across his back was supported by one of his thumbs. With the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up to his elbows, you watch as the lines of his forearm muscles shift and strain with each fine movement from the weight of the duffel.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah! We did,” you answer after an awkward pause. Oh, God, please let that not have been weird. “Are you here for your practice?”. You mentally slap yourself for your stupid question; he’s wearing gym clothes and has his hockey gear, what else was he going to do at the rink?

“Yeah, I am,” Mark laughed good-naturedly, leaning slightly on the wall next to you, “I came here a bit early, actually. I was hoping to catch you”.

Catch...me?

Your face flushed at his heart-fluttering remark. Contesting with the urge to spontaneously burst into flames, you try your best to give a steady reply, “Oh! What for?”.

“I-uh,” Mark diverted his gaze down to his shoes, “I know I got your number from the group chat, but I wanted to ask you in person. There’s a party tonight at the sheep’s house- my friend’s house- and I was wondering if I was gonna see you there”.

You simultaneously wanted to sink into the floor to disappear forever and jump into the air to celebrate. You did neither.

Was he asking you out? Not really. But then again, he wants to see you there at the party. And he came here early to specially ask you in person.

You replay the debate you had with Yuna earlier. Past-you had made some valid points about not going, but how could you say no when he put it like this?… oh, fuck it.

“For sure. I’ll be there”. You offer a wry smile to try to cover your nervousness.

“Awesome,” Mark’s eyes twinkled as he smiled, “can’t wait to see you tonight, then”.

“Can’t wait,” you echoed. You couldn’t help but notice how he was a few inches taller and you had to tilt your head back to meet his soft, brown eyes.

“I should probably get down to the rink to set up for practice”

“Oh okay! Don’t let me keep you”

“Not at all”. His fingers shifted to adjust the strap of his hockey bag and your eyes brushed over the ripple of his forearm. He was doing the bare-minimum and your knees were ready to buckle in the middle of the hallway.

“I’ll get going then!,” you excuse yourself with a curt wave. Turning around, you head briskly for the exit before you could embarrass yourself further and agree to more irrational proposals.

Before your hand could even touch the exit door to let yourself out, reality hit.

Oh no. I have to go to the party.

Yuna squealed and pounced you onto your bed as you told her the news. “I can’t believe it! You’re really gonna go?”.

You run a stressed hand through your wavy locks, “I guess? He didn’t leave me much of a choice”. Rolling around on your bed, your best friend clapped and cheered despite your wanting to travel back in time and tell Mark you couldn’t make it. But how were you supposed to say no to that face? Thanks to this, your library study session was far from focused or helpful.

“We gotta get you looking hot, y/n. I mean, you’re already hot,” Yuna corrected, “but even more hot for your first college party”.

Hopping off your now messed-up covers, you go to observe yourself in the full-body mirror in all your said ‘hotness’. You were currently enveloped in a grouchy oversized tee shirt that you got from a choir field trip in high school paired with plain gym shorts hidden underneath. Your hair was especially frizzy from being air-dried after your shower.

“The only hot I am is a hot mess,” you groaned. Did you look like this when Mark saw you earlier? Shit.

“Nonsense, silly,” Yuna hugged you from behind, “you’re adorable and you’d be surprised how much hair, makeup, and a good fit can change someone”. She looked into your eyes eagerly through the mirror as if asking for permission. You were too nervous about the party to deny her so you gave your roommate a reluctant nod. It was better that she helped you get ready so you could fit in and thus blend into the background.

Squealing again, Yuna gave you a squeeze and scurried to flit through her closet for something you could wear.

“Go straighten your hair, y/n!”

“Yes ma’am”. This much you could do. “How’s this?”. Yuna held up a skimpy bralette top, its white lace barely covering any surface area at all.

“That’s a top?!”

“Ok nevermind”. Tossing the tiny piece aside, your roommate continued sifting earnestly through her collection of expensive clothes.

You ran the straightener through your partitioned hair carefully.

“What about this one?”. Yuna held up a simple red crop top. A small notch ran an inch down the neckline which gave it a little edge, but it seemed like it would be in your comfort zone.

“That’s perfect,” you smile.

Hair now pin straight and finally smooth, you change into the red top and ripped black denim shorts Yuna picked out for you. Your best friend was much better at makeup than you were, so you let her take the lead once again. The only times you wear full makeup are for performances and you would look like a complete clown if you showed up with the two inch eyeliner you knew how to do.

Applying a small amount of base makeup to your face, Yuna went for a more natural look, knowing that you weren’t comfortable with standing out too much. Subtle brown eyeshadow and lengthening mascara made your eyes pop just the right amount and a cherry lip balm tinted your lips a translucent, shiny red. Even you had to admit your confidence was boosted from the new look you weren’t used to seeing in the mirror.

That’s me. I’m… kind of pretty

“Aw, honey, you look so beautiful,” Yuna cooed, wrapping up your makeover with a clap. She did her own makeup effortlessly and put on the discarded bralette from earlier. However ridiculous it looked on the hanger, she made it look like a million bucks and it suited her perfectly.

You moved to sit on your bed and lace up your trusty white sneakers. Yuna wore a bigger shoe size than you which came as a relief because you weren’t sure if you could handle wearing any of the daring stiletto pumps in her collection.

“You know, I’m so happy you’re going to come this time. I was always really sad when you stayed home studying every weekend instead of going out and having fun”.

“I would’ve gone if I knew how to talk to people,” you reason, picking at the dirty aglet of your shoelace, “and I’m honestly really nervous right now. You better not leave me, okay?”.

“You’re so sweet and thoughtful, anyone would be lucky to talk to you! I know it’s easier said than done, but you’d be surprised what a little confidence will do. And of course, I won’t leave you”. Yuna gave you a bright, reassuring smile before pulling you off the bed.

You take one last look at your reflection in the mirror.

That’s right, confidence. I’m confident.

“Let’s go”

The walk down to the party was much shorter than you expected. Turns out, the ‘Sheep’ lived in that sketchy house just off of campus which you made a point to avoid during your nighttime jogs. The tables were turning as you approached the rickety front porch on purpose. You clung to Yuna as an array of neon lights shines through the window blinds and the open door. The bass of a generic pop song jolted through your bones.

Walking into the home, your grip on Yuna’s arm tightened as unfamiliar faces surrounded you. The crowded room stank of sweaty bodies and weed. A countertop stocked full of red solo cups and different types of alcohol was visible from where you stood. Heads turned to stare at Yuna while the two of you entered.

What am I doing here?

“Hey, you made it!,” an unfamiliar voice shouted from over the ruckus. Your eyes fell nervously on the voice’s owner. He had dark brown hair and sharp, defined features. His accent was strange, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Hey!”. Yuna brought the stranger in for a loose hug. “Yangyang, this my roommate and best friend, y/n. Y/n this is Yangyang also known as ‘the sheep’. He’s from Germany”.

Ah, Germany.

You offer him a small wave, surprised when he pulls you unexpectedly into a hug.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. Mark’s told me all about you,” Yangyang smirked, “please help yourself to drinks, girls. The guys are in the basement playing pong”.

“Woo! Let’s get wasted!” Yuna yelled while pulling you towards the drinks.

You stood awkwardly at her side as she poured both of you drinks- a half a solo cup of strawberry vodka for her and a sprite zero for you. You wish you could be in bed, curled up alone with a good movie. Or even at the library studying-

“Hey,” a deep voice right next to your ear wrecked your train of thought. Alarmed, your eyes were met with the middle of a chest as you turned around to see who it was. Craning your head back, an unfamiliar, tall boy with stiffly-gelled brown hair looked down at you. You winced at the acrid smell of axe body spray now flooding your nostrils. He looked young, maybe even younger than you, but he was clearly very drunk. “Where have you been all my life?”.

“Excuse me?,” you exclaim over the booming music. The boy placed his hands on the counter on either side of you, trapping you in between his arms. Looking over to find Yuna, she had already shifted deeper into the crowd and was busy talking with other people.

“I’m Sungchan,” the boy unwelcomingly introduced, “what’s your name, beautiful?”.

“I-uh I’m y/n,” you stuttered. Sungchan’s face was way too close for comfort and his breath stank of cheap alcohol. You felt his humid exhalation brush over the top of your head like a toxic cloud and you fought to not gag.

“Y/n. You come here with anyone?”. You pressed your back as far into the counter as you could to get away from him, but there was little room to go. Fear began to set in as you realized you were trapped. What should I say? What do I do?

“I-I…”

“She came here with me”. A firm hand gripped Sungchan’s left arm and yanked it forcefully away from the counter. Your saving grace put a gentle hand on your shoulder, tugging you slightly away from the drunk perpetrator. Struggling to comprehend what was happening, you looked up to see it was Mark, staring the intoxicated boy down.

“C-captain”

“What’s a freshman doing with my girl?” Mark pressed. His expression was unamused.

Your heart trembled at his unanticipated lie. His girl? Mark brushed a reassuring thumb over your shoulder, clueing to you that he would handle this.

“I didn’t know, I-”

“Sungchan, right? You still trying to make varsity next year?,” Mark interrupted, eyebrows raised in annoyance at the freshman. Sungchan’s eyes went wide as he held both hands up innocently.

“Y-yes I-”

“Misconduct can get you kicked off the team, you know. Not to mention I’ll be senior captain next year so I’ll have a say in who makes it into varsity”.

“I’m sorry, captain, I really didn’t-”

“Fuck off”. Mark gestured his free hand towards the open front door. Sungchan looked around, as if unsure what to do. The surrounding party-goers danced and drank on, unaware of the altercation and more interested in who they were going home with tonight. Finally, the lanky boy’s head cleared enough to make a decision. Sungchan bowed slightly in apology and stumbled towards the exit. The untouched solo cup of sprite fizzed in your shaking hands.

“Are you okay?”. Mark faced you with a concerned look.

You clenched your grip tighter around your drink as you fought back tears, the shock wearing off and the gravity of the situation hitting you full-on. You set the cup down and shake your head no.

“Do you want to get out of here?”.

You nod your head vigorously and tears began streaming down your cheeks. What a waste, all of Yuna’s hard work down the drain. Mark nudged you forward and guided you towards a back door. Weaving your way through the crowd, Mark greeted his friends with a “hey” or a simple nod. You felt a few girls eye you discontentedly at the sight of Mark’s hand ghosting over the small of your back while others were too high or drunk to notice. The cool night air welcomed you as Mark urged you outside and you rushed to escape the cramped house. He shut the door behind him, muffling the heavy bass so you could finally hear yourself think.

Dabbing away at your tears so he wouldn’t see, you breathe deeply to regain your composure.

“Thanks for that”. You managed to let out after a few minutes of sniffling and silence. Your voice was slightly hoarse and you couldn’t meet his eyes, but he waited patiently by your side.

So much for coming to this party, he probably thinks I’m a mess. This whole thing was a huge mistake.

“I think I’ll go. Sorry I can’t stay”. You turn to walk down the wooden porch steps.

“Wait-”. Mark’s voice halts your departure. “Would you like to go on a walk with me? Or I can at least take you home. I don’t want you going out alone after what just happened…”.

Looking up at him, the dim porch light glowed behind him, giving him a soft golden halo. His brown eyes which were usually smiling now shone with worry as he scanned over your tear-stricken face. Your heart which was beating rapidly from fear earlier began to settle down in his reassuring presence. Being alone right now might not be the best idea. But more importantly, being with him sounded like what you really needed. You nod.

The sound of crickets chirping and sneakers scuffing took over as the two of you walked farther away from the booming music of the party. You weren’t sure where you were headed, but you also didn’t know if there was anywhere you wanted to go. Wandering down the deserted streets in comfortable silence, Mark followed you patiently as he waited for you to be ready to talk. Before you knew it, your feet brought you to the lake and you stood watching the water ripple under the night breeze. The moon, almost full, illuminated silver each ebb and flow.

“I’m sorry you’re missing the party”. You quietly broke the silence. You felt bad for making him leave. All of his friends were there and he probably really looked forward to it.

“Don’t be. I only went so I could talk to you, anyways”

You look at him in surprise. Mark’s eyes remained glued to the lake, sparkling from the reflected moonlight.

“How many girls have you told that to?,” you scoff. Internally, you screamed.

“Couldn’t name another one”

You pause before resolving to stroll further down the lakeside. The sound of footsteps behind you confirmed that he was following. Stopping as you reach the familiar creaky wood, you take a seat on the worn-out dock, him on your right. You dangle your feet over the dark, sloshing waves. It was cool, despite the summer season. A breeze rolled by, making you shudder. However cute the crop top was, it didn’t do much to keep you warm. Not that you could have planned on running away from the party and needing a sweatshirt beforehand.

“Here, take this”. Mark unzipped his jacket to give to you.

“Oh it's ok-”. You couldn’t finish your protest before the warm fabric was draped across your shoulders. Your face grew pink once more. If you didn’t know better, you could be admitted to the hospital for how much you’ve been blushing recently. “Thanks,” you mutter, looking down at your hands with a small smile.

“Is that Frankie’s?”. Mark’s voice cut through the silence.

“What?”

“Is that Frankie’s?,” Mark repeated, nodding at the small restaurant bordering the lake some distance away. It looked as if it had just closed, yellow fluorescent lights still on while a tired waitress scrubbed away at a table. Only one car, probably her’s, remained in the parking lot.

“Oh, yeah. That’s where I work part time,” you confirmed. “I come here to the dock to sit sometimes. You know, just to think”.

“I feel that. Sometimes everything is way too much to handle and you need to take time to breathe. I have a place like this too”

Mark’s sincere confession came as a surprise to you and unintentionally, it showed on your face.

“What, you don’t believe me?” Mark feigned hurt, putting a hand on his chest. “Do you think hockey guys can’t have feelings too? I have a fan club for heaven’s sake!”.

You laugh at his exaggerated outcry.

“And that’s a bad thing? Don’t you guys like the attention? Attention from lots and lots of pretty girls”. You raised an eyebrow, teasing him.

“As if,” Mark ran a stressed hand through his hair, “they’re all crazy as hell. Honestly, none of the guys really like the attention”.

You nod in understanding. Seeing how the Lovelees acted the few times you were around them, you’d hate being the subject of their affections too.

“But how about you,” Mark continued, “I haven’t seen you much at parties”.

You let out a sarcastic laugh, “if you couldn’t tell from tonight, I’m not much of a party girl. Today was my first and probably last party”. You had gotten so comfortable walking and talking with Mark that you had almost forgotten about the horrible incident that occurred earlier. Pulling the soft jacket over yourself more, your face falls as you remember Sungchan’s intoxicated face.

“Hey” Mark’s hand grazes over your slumped shoulders, bringing you back to focus on him. “I’ll never let him bother you again”.

While you were unsure of how your makeup was holding up due to all the crying, his delicate features were all the more beautiful under the pale moonlight. You notice how close you’re sitting, knees almost brushing against each other’s and his face was but inches from yours. And even though you were wearing his jacket so he was left with only a tee shirt, you were sure you weren’t imagining the heat radiating from his body. Slowly, your eyes flutter down to his parted lips.

There it is once more, the hot flush in your cheeks and the strain in your chest.

Meeting Mark has been a rollercoaster of emotions, but you felt undeniably comfortable sitting next to someone who would’ve been a stranger just a few days ago. Something about him felt familiar to you now and you trusted in his words. He was someone... safe.

“Really?,” you whisper, not taking your eyes off of his soft, pink lips.

“Really”. His confirmation was too gentle to be heard above the sound of the rushing water below, but you read his lips as they shaped around the word.

Before you know it, you were leaning in, just enough so you knew you weren’t imagining it. A mellow breeze plays with your hair, causing a few strands to fall astray. Cautiously with his hand, Mark slowly tucks the fallen pieces back behind your ear. He hesitates there. The feeling of his warm fingertips sends tingles down your spine. Carefully scanning your expression to make sure you were okay, his hand inches down to gently cup your cheek. “Can I kiss you?”.

You could feel the warmth of his breath fan across your lips, his own not centimeters away. Your heart pounded rapidly as you gave an affirming nod. Closing your eyes, you wait.

This is happening.

A jolting vibration from your pocket caused your eyes to shoot right back open and Mark let go of you in surprise. Your phone kept buzzing, the harsh sound amplified by the wooden dock. Sighing in frustration, you struggle to remove it from your back pocket as Mark looks away, coughing awkwardly. Your face burned red from embarrassment.

Why does this always happen to me?

“Hello?”. Your tone was laced with annoyance.

“Y/n! Where aare youu?,” Yuna slurred. Trap music blared in the background confirming that she was still at the party. You could hear Ten asking if Mark was with you over the ruckus.

“I left. And yeah, Mark is here”. You put the phone on speaker and held it up towards the boy you were about to kiss moments ago.

“Hey guys,” Mark said sheepishly. Yuna squealed in delight.

“That’s my boy!”. Ten’s booming voice took over the call.

“Stop it man,” Mark warned, increasingly agitated at the couple for ruining the moment.

“Okayy kids! Have fun, but not tooooo much fun”. Yuna giggled into the microphone.

“I’m hanging up,” you said quickly before pushing the red button to end the call. Any longer and you weren’t sure you could resist throwing your phone (and perhaps yourself) into the lake. A brief moment of silence ensued, both parties unsure of what to do next. Was there anything you could do to save the moment after that?

“I uh…,” you start.

“Yeah umm…,” Mark agreed. Silence ensued.

“Uhh…”. Your steady tone wavered as you started to giggle. The awkwardness dissipated because before you knew it, both of you were laughing wholeheartedly at the unfortunate situation.

“Yuna tends to have great timing,” you explain.

“Mm. Ten does too,” Mark related, stroking his chin and nodding as if thinking deeply.

“She said she wouldn’t leave me at the party but lo and behold”. You gesture to your surroundings, exasperated.

“That sucks,” Mark agreed, “you should have come found me. I was waiting for you, actually”.

“I was going to,” you picked at the zipper of his jacket, “but we had just gotten there when... you know”.

“Yeah. You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready. I don’t want to pressure you at all, but I’m always willing to listen”

“You’re,” you look for the right words, “you’re so amazing”.

“Yeah?”

You keep your gaze in your lap, “Yeah. And you know, I wish we’d met earlier, Mark. Because it’s really nice talking to you and you’re a really great guy”. You check for his reaction.

“Yeah, I wish we met sooner too”. His expression was that of… adoration.

Being with Mark was so easy. Conversation came to you two easier than anything else in life did. And just like that, feet swinging in sync above the water, you talked for hours. He told you about his alien conspiracy theories and his aspirations to be a professional hockey player and then retire into sports medicine. You told him about your parents and how you missed them dearly because they worked way out of the city to support you and your dream. You did everything you could to be able to pay them back, even majoring in economics which was more profitable than environmental studies or professional skating. Mark listened thoughtfully and admitted that he related in a lot of ways with his parents being all the way in Canada.

The night rushed by and the two of you talked until the golden peaks of sunrise painted the water from its usual blue. You had shifted so you were sitting facing each other on the dock. The early sunlight cast a warm glow over Mark’s face. He looked like a painting- a Monet. Or a Renoir.

“Um so, I guess it’s Sunday now”. Mark rested his chin into the crook of his elbow. You could hear the tired in his voice, but you mutually understood that neither of you wanted to leave.

“Do you have to go?”. You picked at a piece of fuzz on the sleeve of his sweatshirt which you were still wearing. The disappointment was evident in your question. Even though you had spent the whole night getting to know each other, it felt like you had just barely scratched the surface. There was still so much more you wanted to talk about.

Checking his watch, Mark contemplated for a bit.

“It’s 6:12 a.m. right now. I actually have to get somewhere by 6:30,” Mark explained.

“So early?”

“Yeah it’s… you could come with me if you want?”. His sleepy eyes twinge with hope.

You look to the lake, the sparkling ripples tinted gold with the rising sun. Sunday was usually a rest day for you and you didn’t have anything planned. As fatigued as you felt, everything in you wanted to accept his invitation. You cracked a small smile, getting up to stretch your legs. You hold out a hand to help him up.

“Lead the way”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you home? This might not be fun for you…”

Mark’s expression was worried as the two of you stood at the entrance of the local church, the doors open and you could see rows of tables and food set up as if ready for people at any minute. The streets were starting to bustle as the world began to wake up. A volunteer from inside the church spotted you, walking out to give his greetings.

“Mark!,” the man called out as he pulled Mark in for a warm hug, “good morning!”.

His eyes turned towards you and Mark moved to introduce you.

“Daniel, this is y/n. Y/n, this is Daniel. We volunteer together here at the church to serve breakfast to the homeless,” Mark disclosed.

“Nice to meet you, Daniel”. You shake his hand with a smile. Gosh, I probably look like a mess right now. I didn’t even get to change or take off the makeup from the party yesterday. You self-consciously zip up Mark’s oversized jacket to hide your exposed midriff.

“Nice to meet you, y/n! This is the first time Mark has brought a… friend here”. Daniel’s eyes darted between you and Mark with an assuming smile.

“Yeah,” Mark coughed, turning to you, “do you want me to take you home? This probably isn’t what you expected I don’t know why I-”

“No,” you interrupted, “I’d like to stay and volunteer”. Offering him a reassuring smile, you rest your hand on his arm to show him that you were okay. There was truth to his worries when Mark said this wasn’t what you were expecting. You never would have thought that a popular guy like him woke up early on the weekends to help the needy. Evidently, he did it out of the kindness of his own heart, not for attention. You always imagined it was all parties and messing around, but you were pleasantly proven wrong.

“Great! Mark can show you around and get you started,” the older man clapped before heading inside.

“You’re kind of awesome, you know that?”. Mark’s question caught you off guard. He slipped his hand into yours to lead you into the building, the simple action sending your heart into a frenzy.

“Awesome how?”

“Just… awesome,” Mark clarified cryptically, holding the door open for you to enter the storage room. He tosses you a green volunteer shirt.

“Alright, I’ll take the compliment,” you laugh, taking off his jacket and handing it to him. To your surprise, he pushes it back to you.

“You keep it. I like it a lot better on you”

Mark Lee if you keep saying things like this, I’m going to catch on fire.

You fight to put out the flames spreading across your cheeks and give a single nod, setting the sweatshirt down on a nearby box. Not willing to strip in front of him in the church storage room, you pull the volunteer shirt over on top of the shirt you were already wearing.

“So anyways,” Mark continued as if he didn’t just say the most romantic thing you’ve heard in your life, “the people will start coming in about 20 minutes. Our job is to portion out the food and once everyone is served, we can go eat and talk with them”.

“Got it”

“Here, let me get this for you”. His hand guided your waist to spin around as he pulled an apron over your head. Tying the back of the garment together, your breath hitches in your throat as you feel his fingers brush under the fabric of your shirt. You turn your face to the side and you can see his soft expression in your peripheral vision. The heat from his body behind yours feels so welcoming.

I wish he’d kiss me right now.

And he wants to. He tries to. He’s leaning in and everything is perfect. Your heart is beating fast as you tilt your head back, but like clockwork, a jolting buzz from his pants makes you jump apart. No, not like that.

“I swear to God, I’m throwing away my phone”. Mark ran a frustrated hand through his hair, picking up the kiss-blocking call. “Hello?”. You sighed.

You watch as the annoyed expression on his face fades into shock as the speaker on the other side panicked through the phone. Your own frustration transforms into concern as Mark looks at you and you catch the words “car” and “hospital”. Mark paces back and forth.

“Alright, I got it. Yeah, she’s with me. I’ll tell her. We’ll come right now. Don’t worry, Ten, she’s going to be fine”

“What is it?,” you ask as soon as he hangs up the call, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and worry.

“It’s Yuna…,” Mark trailed off, shocked by the news. Your heart dropped down to your feet.

“What about Yuna?” Your voice shook with panic.

“She-she was in a car accident. She’s at the hospital right now”

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