#there’s an itinerary and all but i still don’t know exactly what’s going to happen to me when and i don’t know my way around the place

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part thirty-one] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, smut (mdni)

word count: 2.3k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

additional smut warnings: edging, orgasm denial, spanking, protected sex

It was in fact, not the last time you would sleep with Minho. Despite saying so, you continued to sneak into his room every night after Jisung fell asleep. You’d fuck, sometimes twice, and then go back to the room you shared with your best friend like nothing happened. To say that the guilt was eating you alive would be an understatement. But for whatever reason, you didn’t stop. 

All it would take was a single look from Minho, a glimpse of him shirtless in the pool, a smirk directed at you, and you’d decide you needed him. You were so weak when it came to him. It was pathetic.

Minho always let you do the initiating when it came to sex. He never pushed, but he didn’t exactly try to deter you either. At first, you convinced yourself that it was just because he was like every other twenty-something-year-old guy: always horny. Never one to turn down getting laid when the opportunity presented itself. But every time you hooked up, you’d notice things that seemed to suggest otherwise. 

Like how he always put your pleasure first. That could simply be attributed to him being a good lover, but it felt different. It wasn’t like he was trying to get you to cum as fast as possible so that he wouldn’t have to worry about it when it was his turn. No, he took his time with it, wanted to make it last because he genuinely enjoyed making you feel good. It seemed like each time you had sex he was trying to make you cum more times than the last. And then afterward, when you were both still catching your breath, he’d hold your hand, play with your hair, coax you into staying five extra minutes, things that friends with benefits don’t do. 

You’d be a fool to fall for him. But it was far too late for that. You had wanted him before you ever slept together. Before he kissed you for the first time. And now that you’d had him, you didn’t want to go back. 

You can tell Minho feels guilty too. You see it in the way he looks at Jisung when his back is turned. He’s less vocal about it than you but you know it’s there. 

-

The second to last day in Bali is spent hiking. Your foot had mostly healed by then, but the news was still devastating to you. 

“Do you ever read the itinerary?” Jisung groaned upon hearing your complaints. 

“I like being surprised.”

“That’s a fucking lie,” he said, calling your bluff. “You’re just lazy.”

You gasped and held your hand to your heart, feigning offense. Jisung rolled his eyes at you. 

“Come on, get up, get dressed. It’s matching t-shirt day.”

“Nooo, I forgot about that.”

“You only have to do it one more time after this,” he reminded you. 

Only one more time. That’s right... there was only one more stop on the trip before you all flew back to Seoul and spent the last two weeks of summer there. You expected to feel relief but you were filled with anxiety instead. You couldn’t pinpoint the reason as to why but you suspected it had to do with the whole fucking your best friend’s brother behind his back thing. 

“You still with me?” Jisung asked. “Did you zone out?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“S’alright. We better start getting ready, though.”

You nodded absentmindedly and made your way over to your suitcase to grab a change of clothes. You were moving on autopilot, not even aware of what you were doing until suddenly you were fully dressed and ready, sitting between Felix and Minho at the kitchen bar as Jisung blended up a smoothie for the four of you. 

You couldn’t remember brushing your teeth or putting on sunscreen but your mouth tasted minty and your skin was sticky from the lotion. 

Minho nudged your elbow. “You okay?” he asked. 

“Fine.”

Jisung glanced at his older brother and then you, sliding your smoothies across the counter wordlessly. 

“Thank you,” you practically whispered as you accepted yours.

Did he know? No, if he knew he certainly wouldn’t be speaking to either of you. But did he suspect? It wasn’t like you and Minho were being that careful... he could have easily picked up on what was going on. 

You tried taking a sip of your smoothie but it wasn’t melted enough to go through the straw. 

“Here,” Jisung said, leaning over the bar to stick a spoon in your cup. 

“Thanks, babe.”

He winked at you. “No problem.”

Okay, so maybe he didn’t know and was just annoyed with Minho. That could also be an explanation. 

Jisung’s parents assured you that the hike was an easy one but you were still skeptical. Hiking in general was an activity you preferred not to partake in, regardless of the level of difficulty. 

You liked getting out and going places... that were inside.. with air conditioning. Hiking, kayaking, cycling, all on the list of no’s for you. You were simply not an outdoorsy person. You’d much rather go to a tasting at a local brewery or sit through a play in a language you didn’t understand. To be fair, the trip had a good balance of both, so you couldn’t complain too much. The Hans, on the other hand, were outdoorsy people so you should have seen it coming anyway.

Getting to Campuhan Ridge required a short bus ride over to the site for the walk. You sat on Jisung’s lap since it was so crowded, listening to him argue with Felix about fruit. 

“They are good for you!” Jisung cried in exasperation.

“All I’m saying is that that much sugar can’t be healthy.”

“It’s naturally made sugar- I’m the one in culinary school here! I know what I’m talking about!”

The hike turned out to be relatively easy, as Nikki and Dom had claimed it to be. It wasn’t too high up either. Views of rice terraces and forests stretched on for miles in each direction, greenery as far as the eye can see. 

The only downfall was how hot it was. You were sweating not even ten minutes in and the baseball cap you were wearing did nothing to block out the sun. 

You stopped somewhere in the middle of the walk to take some pictures. It had been Nikki’s idea since she’d brought her Nikon along with her, but Jisung also asked Minho to take a couple pictures of just the two of you while Felix did the same thing for their parents. 

You wrapped both of your arms around Jisung and smiled as wide as you could manage. Jisung smiled too, squeezing your hip. 

“Okay, now do something different,” Minho directed. “The smiling is boring.”

You shrugged and raised yourself on your tiptoes to kiss Jisung’s cheek. “O-okay that’s good too,” Minho muttered. 

Jisung chuckled quietly, his body vibrating beneath your lips. It made you lose your balance but your best friend caught you before you could stumble.

“Woah, you alright there, y/n?” Dom called as he, Nikki, and Felix rejoined the three of you. 

You clung to Jisung and laughed. “Yes, thanks to him!”

“It seems like I’m always catching her,” he sighed. “Where would you be without me?”

“Dead, probably.”

His mother smiled fondly at your little display and you patted yourself on the back internally. You still had a role to play, after all. 

The sun had drained everyone so you headed back to the resort early. Felix and Minho went to pick up some take-out food while the rest of you showered off the day and waited for them to return. 

After dinner, you ended up in Minho’s bed again. It was routine at this point. Pretend like you’re going to bed with everyone else, wait for Jisung to fall asleep, wait fifteen more minutes to make sure he’s really out, and then sneak off to Minho’s room. His room was all the way on the other side of the treehouse thing you were staying in which was both fortunate and unfortunate. It was fortunate because it wasn’t close to Jisung where you might accidentally wake him up, but it was unfortunate because it meant you had to walk through the entire place in the dark to get to it. 

“Took you long enough,” Minho had grumbled when you showed up. 

“Aw did you miss me that much?” you teased. 

Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood to take his time with you because in a matter of minutes he had you pressed face down on the mattress as he fucked you from behind, holding on to your hips so tightly you thought he might leave bruises in the shape of fingerprints. 

It was a position the two of you hadn’t tried together yet but you were already loving it. Minho could go faster and deeper than when he was fucking you in missionary and it had you on the edge in record time. Except he wasn’t letting you cum.  

For whatever reason, every time you warned him that you were close, he would slow down or come to a complete stop, waiting until the feeling had passed to start again. He even held you in place so that you couldn’t fuck yourself back on his cock and finish yourself off- he’d learned to do that after you’d tried to do it the first time he denied your orgasm. 

“You’re so mean!” you sobbed, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He’d stopped again, ironically rubbing your back soothingly as the pleasure ebbed away for the umpteenth time.  

Minho just laughed and pulled you up by your hair so that he could look at your face. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes you are! I need to cum and you won’t let me!”

“That’s your fault for telling me you like to be edged.”

God damn your big mouth. You didn’t even remember telling him that but you didn’t doubt that you had because it was true. You did like being edged but this was torture. 

“Don’t listen to past me! Listen to present me!” you begged. 

“Nice try.”

“Fuck!” 

He started moving again but slowly. It wasn’t enough to make you cum but it did make you even needier. You gripped the bed sheets as he thrust into you over and over again, trying in vain to get him to go faster.

“Always so fucking wet for me,” Minho hissed, slapping your ass lightly. You yelped in surprise. “Shh, baby.”

“I’m trying!” you whispered.

“Try. Harder. Then.”

You wanted to quip back but the words died on your lips as you felt the coil in your stomach tightening again. You didn’t tell Minho this time, hoping that he wouldn’t notice. He did, of course. Your pussy was fluttering like crazy around him and you weren’t able to control it. 

Minho stopped completely, this time snaking an arm under your body so that he could pull you up on his lap. You cursed under your breath at the change in angle. 

“You were about to cum without saying anything, weren’t you? Fucking brat.”

“I forgot?” you mumbled. 

He scoffed in disbelief. “You’re really testing my patience, you know that?”

“I guess it’s a good thing it turns you on then.”

Minho let out a sound of annoyance and brought his free hand down to your cunt so that he could rub your clit. The smirk fell from your face immediately. 

And then he started moving his hips, just enough so that your g-spot and your clit were being stimulated at the same time. 

You whimpered out that you were close when you felt your orgasm approaching again, which seemed to please Minho. But he wasn’t going to let you off that easy. 

“You want to cum? Beg for it.”

“Please, Minho! Please let me cum, I’ll be good, I promise!”

You didn’t hear what he said next because your ears were ringing from the intensity of your climax. You were vaguely aware of him cumming right after you but you didn’t register much aside from his body going tense underneath yours. You rode out your orgasm until the spots in your vision subsided and your legs stopped shaking, flopping onto the bed like a ragdoll. 

Minho was quick to lay down beside you, having recovered from his orgasm much faster than you had. 

“That wasn’t too much, was it?”

You shook your head. “It was perfect. I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard in my life. Not even by myself.”

You probably shouldn’t be feeding into his ego so much, but considering how good he was in bed it was at least a little deserved. 

He grinned proudly and rolled onto his side to kiss you. “I’m glad.”

-

You took another shower before going back to bed. That had become another part of your routine since you started sleeping with Minho regularly. You’d take a shower before dinner for the sake of appearances, and then you’d take a second shower after messing around with Minho. There was no way you could just hop back into bed with Jisung all sweaty and gross. It would be a dead giveaway, not to mention disgusting. 

The second shower always made you feel dirtier than it did clean. It felt like you were washing off the evidence not only literally, but figuratively too. You supposed that was to be expected, though. What wasn’t to be expected, however, was your best friend waiting outside of the bathroom for you when you got out of the shower. 

You jumped when you heard his voice, nearly knocking your head against the wall. Your eyes had yet to adjust so it was hard to see him but he was there, arms crossed over his chest defensively. You already knew what he was going to say before he said it but the question made your blood run cold nonetheless. 

“Is there something going on between you and Minho?”

sorry for skipping out on the taglist again- I'm babysitting tn so I'm posting from my laptop (lmk what you think though i always appreciate feedback!!)

add yourself to the taglist here!

#hm all black and white pictures #surely that means nothing #instead of you stray kids #instead of you skz #iou stray kids #iou skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x female reader #lee know x reader #lee know x female reader #lee know x bi!reader #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #minho smut #lee minho smut

[corinthianism]

last kiss | sam winchester (1)

pairing: sam winchester/f!reader additional tags: best friends to lovers (?), fluff, angst

summary: you and sam were inseparable; two like-minded souls brought together by a life of saving people and hunting monsters. when the world is about to come to an end, he's forced to make a choice, one that might just haunt you forever. - set in the season 5 finale

masterlist | next chapter | ao3

CHAPTER ONE: SAVIN' ALL MY LOVE

Trusting a demon, especially the king of crossroad demons, was not what you had in your itinerary for saving the world… but perhaps you should’ve known. After all, being a hunter wasn’t exactly a cut-and-dry profession, especially when you’re working with the Winchesters. Still, you were wondering if being left in an abandoned house with Sam, while Dean and Crowley, of all people, tracked down Pestilence’s demon assistant, or as Crowley liked to put it, “the horseman’s stable boy”. Leaving Sam out of such an important mission left a bad taste in your mouth, but you knew that your best friend wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy candidate to save the world right now.

Not after what happened with Ruby. 

You grimaced. Best not to think about that too much, unless you wanted to match Sam with a cranky, scrunched up face of your own.

“Keep an eye on him, would you?” Dean pulled you aside before he left with Crowley. “If I know anything, sweetheart, it’s that he sure as hell listens to you more than he listens to me.”

You let out a long breath through your teeth as you glanced at Sam, who was, unsurprisingly, drinking his feelings by the fireplace. There was only so much to keep you busy in a place like this, so you decided that you might as well join him.

“Got room for one more?” you asked gently, not wanting to irritate him further. He gave you a look, which you had affectionately called “Sam’s kicked puppy look”, and huffed before scooching over to let you sit on the worn-down couch next to him. “This reminds me of Cedar Falls.”

Sam laughed quietly, shaking his head, “This is nothing like Cedar Falls.”

“True, but it made you laugh,” you grinned victoriously at him. “Penny for your thoughts, Sammy?”

He took one big sip from his bottle of whiskey, and turned to face you, his eyes doing that thing where it got bigger and sadder and you couldn’t help but give him whatever he wanted. What an asshole. The corner of his lips turned upward into a tired smile, “You don’t really wanna know that.”

“Actually, yeah, I don’t,” you rolled your eyes. “But I did kinda grow up with you and I’m your only friend besides your brother and an angel, so I’m morally obligated to know.”

That earned you a scoff from him, but he spilled the beans anyway.

“It’s Dean. I mean, I know he’s not exactly wrong for not trusting me right now, but trusting Crowley?” he ranted, his voice growing tighter and louder in frustration. 

“He doesn’t trust Crowley,” you made your point as softly as you could, knowing he was thinking of a million possibilities right now. You didn’t want to add to that. “He just doesn’t have any other option at the moment.”

“He does have an option though, and it’s not working with a demon. Trust me, I know firsthand that it doesn’t end well.”

You probably made a face at the mention of his “firsthand experience”, because he chuckled again and took another swig of his drink. 

“Well, on the bright side, you got me. And that’s about as good as it can get, Winchester,” another small smile from him. “I think we need more drinks. For me, I mean,” you commented, happy with your small victory. You stood up once again to get the mini-cooler in the other room. He nodded in agreement, going back to spacing out as you left. Taking one last look at him, you couldn’t help but imagine the weight he must’ve been carrying. You knew him. You knew him deeply, and that made things suck even more. 

Of course, there was no other solution besides burying the emotional damage every world-ending problem left on you. There was no time for heart-to-hearts in the life of a hunter. For now, the only real help you could give Sam was to lend him an ear and to toss him a few more drinks.

A flash of blue in your peripheral told you that you found what you were looking for. Cold mist pleasantly greeted your skin as you opened the cooler up, finding it full of ice and an assortment of drinks. “Leave it to the Winchesters to save the world but also somehow always be fully stocked up on alcohol,” you smirked, pushing the lid back down and picking it up to bring it to the living room. 

Sam’s voice made you stop in your tracks. He was talking to someone. On the phone, you thought.

“What if you guys lead the devil to the edge… and I jump in?”

What?

You found yourself inching closer, just to see if he would say anything else.

“It’d be just like when you turned the knife around on yourself; just one action, just one leap,” he persisted, voice heavy with desperation.

Everything he said after that was a blur, but you figured he was talking to Bobby. And God, you hoped the old man talked some sense into him.

“Was that Bobby?” you finally walked in, setting the cooler down on the floor. Sam straightened up, shoving his phone back into his pocket as he heard the clipped tone in your voice, no matter how much you tried to sound casual.

“Uh, yeah,” he mumbled before furrowing his brows. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Just enough to call you an idiot,” you crossed your arms, unimpressed.

“You sound like him,” he rolled his eyes, facing away from you and sitting back down on the couch, as if he could avoid your incoming sermon if he wasn’t actively looking at you.

“I damn hope so, because he’s the only one here with any sort of sense! Do you even hear yourself, Sam? We just managed to convince Dean not to say yes to Michael, and now you wanna let the devil ride your meatsuit? What’s wrong with you?!” you yelled at him, setting the cooler down so you could focus all your energy into conveying to him that he was, in fact, an idiot. “No, Sammy. I won’t let you do it. I won’t… I can’t.”

He must’ve noticed the panic in your voice; how the anger melted away into fear. Sam was familiar with that tone. It was what he heard in Dean’s voice nearly every goddamn day for the past two years. He just hadn’t expected to hear it from you. Even when he was sneaking off to meet with Ruby, you stood by him, protecting him from the worst of Dean’s paranoia. When it all came to light and his brother’s fears came true, you still held his hand like he had knocked over a vase instead of starting the apocalypse. He knew he didn’t deserve your kindness, and yet you still gave it to him so freely.

Hearing that desperation from you, it squeezed his heart in a way that made him forget how to breathe. The alcohol was already tearing away at his system, forcing only his most basic instincts to push him forward. Those instincts told him to look at you, to not be a coward and not be the reason for your worry. He hated making you worry.

Something wet trickled down your cheek and as you brought a hand to wipe it away, Sam had already turned around and seen the second tear fall. You hated being seen like this. It was weak, it was juvenile. You kill demons and vampires and shifters, for fuck’s sake. There was no time for crying your heart out.

But the possibility of a world that didn’t have Sam Winchester in it was enough to stop even you, in your tracks.

“Hey,” Sam pulled you out of your thoughts. “Look at me.”

“I don’t want to, asshole.”

He only smiled. Damn him.

Setting down his bottle of whiskey on the floor, he grabbed your shoulders, “I’m not gonna do it, not unless we all agree. It’s like you said, we don’t have a lot of options, so we need to make our own.”

“Why is killing yourself an option?” you argued, struggling to look him in the eye as if he was already dead. Like he was just a figment of your imagination designed to haunt you and taunt you for words left unsaid. He was still here with you but your mind, treacherous as it was, was already imagining his hunter’s funeral. How the wood would burn and how you wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about him in hell. The chance of him dying, of losing him, had always been a real thing but now, more than ever, it felt real. 

“It’s me or 7 billion people,” he pointed out gently, swiping his thumb over your cheek to wipe a tear away. “I’m not that important of a person, but I can make an important decision. That has to count for something, right?”

“We’ll find something,” you promised. “I’ll find something.”

He smiled again at your determination, “That’s my girl.”

He pulled you in close. Underneath the smell of whiskey, you could smell the minty soap he always uses. You breathed it all in, trying to ignore the fact that learning his new plan felt like being splashed with ice cold water. He seemed to notice you tense up, because he spoke up again, “Do you wanna dance with me?”

“What?”

“It’ll be just like Cedar Falls,” he offered teasingly. “And besides, it’s just you and me here anyway.”

The corner of your lips twitched upward at the memory, “We have no music.”

A beat. 

He stood up, making a show of clearing his throat. Liquid courage was truly something else.

“A few stolen moments is all that we share,” he began, grinning stupidly at you. Though Dean was usually the singer between the two (as much as he tried to deny it, him belting out Toni Braxton in the shower told you all otherwise), Sam wasn’t bad at holding a tune. He gave you that look, telling you that what he was doing was just for you, and only you, as he guided your hands to rest on his shoulders, “You’ve got your family and they need you there.”

He started swaying, so you attempted to return the favor by continuing the song, “Though I’ve tried to resist, being last on your list… but no other man’s gonna dooo…”

“So I’m saving all my love for youuu…” you both sang in unison, wide grins on both of your faces at the sheer cheesiness of the situation. You took turns singing the lyrics, dancing slowly by the fireplace. For a moment, you could almost forget that the world was about to end, but you thought maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad if Sam’s face was the last thing you ever saw. Not bad at all.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

It was the year 2000. You were comfortably tucked under the cheap motel blanket, watching reruns of the Golden Girls. John had taken Dean out to do a salt and burn somewhere near the outskirts of town, leaving you alone to guard all your belongings as Sam went to his senior prom. Bobby owed him one, but sent you instead since the old man was busy helping other hunters. The room telephone rang a few times, and you had half a mind to answer it, before eventually deciding that it probably wasn’t the best idea to leave it hanging in case the Winchesters needed help. 

“Hello?” you rolled over to answer the phone.

“Hey,” came Sam’s voice, sounding smaller than you were used to.

“Sammy,” you sat upright, now holding the phone with both hands, as if you could reach through and pull him next to you. “Are you okay?”

He let out a deep sigh, “I, uh… yeah, I’m okay. I’m coming back to the motel though, I think.”

“What do you mean? I thought prom didn’t end until 10? It’s only 8:45, Sam.”

“So, my date kind of, um, ditched me, I guess?” he replied meekly, drawing breaths between each heavy word. “You know, it’s fine. I should’ve known.”

“No.”

“What?”

“You give me 20 minutes, Sammy. Just stay where you are.”

In less than a fraction of a second, you were up and scouring through your duffle bags in search of something that would resemble a prom dress. Hunting required you to own a small collection of various clothes and finally, you managed to pull out a dress that wasn’t marred in some way. It was deep blue satin, and it wasn’t until a year ago that you were able to grow into it. Feeling the smooth fabric in your hands, you thought of the one time you got to wear it, posing as a lawyer’s (played by John) spoiled daughter. Shockingly, Dean had thrifted it somewhere, somehow not opting to choose the most hideous frilly dress for you. He argued he liked the color, and he didn’t really want to think about what your bust size was, so it stayed unused for a fair while because it didn’t fit you well enough to be convincing.

You slid the dress carefully over your head, and decided that perhaps a little bit of color to your face was needed, lest Sam mistook you for a vengeful spirit. Once again, you dug through the endless pockets of your duffle bag to grab the old red lipstick you had quietly nicked from a witness’ house. It was old, probably expired, but you dabbed the rouge on your cheeks and lips anyway. Ultimately, you decided your hair was better off as it was. You slipped your feet into the uncomfortable and only pair of heels you owned. Even with the dull ache already forming in the balls of your feet, you smiled to yourself.  For once, you weren’t a dirty, bloody, beaten hunter. Tonight, you were just a girl. And even if you weren’t doing this for Sam, it felt wonderful to have a taste of normal.

The motel you stayed at was a short motorcycle ride from the Cedar Falls High School, so you opted to carry a silver dagger and a silver bullet-loaded gun with you for protection. Underneath the dress, of course. Without even stepping foot onto the school property itself, you could already see the familiar silhouette of Sam sitting by himself on the steps of the entrance. The stairs weren’t high at all, and it emphasized how tall he’d gotten in the last couple of months. He hugged himself, hunched over with his eyes closed as he inhaled and exhaled slowly.

Taking in a few breaths of anticipation yourself, you awkwardly walked over to him, steps wobbly and unsure. He looked up at the sound of heels meeting concrete, and you froze. He was wide-eyed, and looking at you. God knows you never thought he’d be able to look at you like that. For a moment, it was like time itself had stopped. The dust floating in the air stilled and butterflies stopped flapping their wings. Sam Winchester, in the suit that was much too big for him, in leather shoes beat up by hours of running around and chasing monsters, sat on the concrete stairs of his school and stared at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Hey,” you were the first to break the silence. 

“Hey,’’ a small smile appeared on his face. He pat the space next to him, taking your hand so you could sit down without falling over. “I like the dress. Isn’t this the one you wore last year? When we did that shifter case in Oklahoma?”

You chuckled, “Yeah. I’m surprised you remember.”

“Of course I’d remember.”

Heat blossomed in your cheeks at how casually he said it, and suddenly a random streetlight was the most interesting thing to stare at. Anything was more interesting to look at than his stupidly beautiful and kind eyes.

Sam spoke up again, “You didn’t have to come here, you know. I could’ve just gone back to the motel.”

“And waste this outfit?” you gestured to his ill-fitting suit, grinning wide. “I don’t think so.” 

He laughed, and somehow you think this was the first real laugh he’d let out in the past week. He was less tense now, more open. This was the Sammy you knew. This was the joy you wanted him to feel for as long as you were around. 

“Dance with me,” you stood up, offering your hand to him. “That’s what you’re supposed to do at prom, right?”

His eyes widened, his back slouching as if he was trying to hide from you, “Uh, no.”

“Come onnn, Sammy!”

“No!” he laughed, trying to scoot away from you. You tried to grab his wrist, but his sudden movement threw you off balance, causing you to nearly fall over... but Sam caught you. He held a firm grip on your arm, forcing you to notice just how much he’s grown up. His arms were strong; toned from years of John’s training in addition to hunting. Now standing, he was taller than both his father and brother, yet he felt uncomfortable in his body. Like he didn’t know what to do with all of it. Like he was still just awkward, nerdy Sam. But he wasn’t. Not anymore. You didn’t really know how to feel about that.

“Thanks,” you said breathlessly, trying to come back to reality. “Dance with me? I can hear your school’s speakers all the way from here. Let’s make the most of it, hm?”

“Okay,” he agreed, finally, looking a little awestruck by what just happened. Gently, he placed his hands, which were much larger than yours, on your waist as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. The muffled sound of Whitney Houston’s “Saving All My Love For You” echoed from inside the school. The two of you started swaying slowly to the music, just enjoying each other’s company. There were no monsters here tonight, and there was no hunting to be done.

Your eyes flickered upwards to look at Sam, his own eyes closed and his lips pressed into a peaceful smile. For once, he looked 17. For once, he was just a boy.

Resting your head on his chest as the music swept you away into another world, there was one thought that lingered in your mind: this was how things should be.

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #team free will #dean winchester #jared padalecki

[tracksidequeen]

Toto to the Rescue

Summary: You don’t feel well at the race and Toto takes care of you.

Request: anon1 - how about reader doesn’t feel well and is in a lot of pain and Toto is doing everything he can to help you, you can’t work out what’s wrong you just know you’re hurting everywhere so he just gives you loads of soft kisses and cuddles and he’s saying really sweet things to you 🥺 uhhh it’s the phrases he’ll use like “come here my sweet girl” and “it’s okay, daddy’s got you” like just being so caring and also him not giving a shit about work because he just wants to concentrate on you 🥺, Anon2 -assistant!reader x toto (it’s all i live for at this point) maybe the reader is overwhelmed by the amount of work she had to do and toto helps calm her down??

Warnings: Toto x Assistant!Reader, some slight distress for reader, but ultra-soft Toto to the rescue

Words: 1K+

*****

These double-headers can get the best of you and as Toto’s assistant you’re always the first one on and the last one off. You knew what you signed up for, and you were always willing to go the extra mile. Which is exactly the reason Toto hired you, but this morning- this morning was just rough.

You stumble into Toto’s trackside office with his itinerary for the day and his coffee in hand; shaking, pale, and a sweaty forehead. 

“Goodmorning Boss,” you say with a low and shaky voice as he snaps out of his deep thought. His cheerful eyes scan your body language as you placed everything on the desk, but the moment you got closer his eyes filled with concern as he saw you more clearly.

“Ach je! Mädchen, what happened to you?” He stands up from behind his desk with extended arms to help you with the stack of papers that nearly slips out of your shaking hands. “Let me help you.”

“No, I’m fine, Toto, don’t worry,” you say semi-composed but your whole body just feels like shutting down, and a wave of dizziness pulls down the mask you were trying to put up. Toto watches in concern as you hold on to the desk trying not to fall over but your knees nearly gave up, and just in time Toto grabbed on to your trembling arm and walked you over to the sofa.

“Sweetie, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he says with concern as he rolled down his usually rolled up shirt sleeve to wipe the sweat off your pale forehead. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, please.”

You hold onto his shoulders as he is knelt between your legs with piercing worried eyes waiting for your response, but you nod your head. “No, I’m fine, it’ll pass by.” And you stand back up, but a sharp stabbing pain shoots through your abdomen making you fall back down on the sofa. “Fuck!”

“Stop saying that you’re fine,” he says agitated. “You are clearly not Schatz. Here.” He stands up and hands you a glass of water, but the weight of the glass alone seems to be too much and it nearly slips out of your hand. At the same time you hear Toto’s phone ring and ten messages pop-up on your phone, giving you a stabbing headache, but you had a job to do, and currently you were heavily failing at it.

“Shit, Toto you have a meeting now, I’m sorry I’m holding you up! Those documents have all the information you need. I alphabetically ordered them, so you’ll be able to figure it out.”

He looked at you expressionless, and then shakes his head displeased as he declined the call on his phone. 

“Toto, I’m sorry I made you miss the meeting, I know how important it is,” you ramble on apologetically as a sigh escapes his mouth. “It won’t happen again Toto, I’ll keep a better schedule, show up earlier-.”

“Honey- Schatz, just stop, okay. Stop apologising for nothing,” he says sternly but with a softness to it as he crouches down to your eye-level where you were still sat shaking with cold-sweats on the sofa. “I don’t care about the meeting. All I care about is you, and your well-being. And currently you’re clearly not doing well.” 

His hand slowly strokes a strand of hair that was sticking to your forehead behind your ear. You were trembling and sweating, and frantically you start shaking your head trying to understand the emotions that were rushing through your body and Toto tried to make sense of what was going on. It hit you all at once.

“It’s just so much. So much, Toto. And I try to keep up, I do, but everyone is pulling me from all directions, I missed my mothers birthday for this, I barely get any sleep-”

“Shhh, come here,” he whispers softly and he pulls you in for a hug. “Everything will be alright. Everything- I’ll make sure of it, I’m sorry you’re feeling this way.”

With your head leaning on his shoulder, you try to muster up some form of response, but none come out and you’re sat in Toto’s embrace as he was slowing tracing his fingertips along your spine to calm you back down. He pulled out of the hug so you could face him and places his hands around your cheeks. The concern was written all over his face and he slowly traces his thumb over your cheekbone. 

“Do you want to see a doctor- just in case?” he inquires but with slight guilt in his voice, although you don’t understand why. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Nuzzled in the crook of his neck you shake your head ‘no’ and mumble, “no I’ll be alright.”

“Ugh.. I should’ve realised- done something, I’m so sorry Schatz. You always work so hard for me and this is what you get in return. I’m so sorry, truly,” he says and plants a soft kiss on your forehead as an apology. “I should’ve never let it come to this.”

You grab his wrists and slide your hands up his arms, “Toto none of this is your fault, c’mon, you know that.”

“Aber meine Liebe, you do need to rest, let’s get you back to the hotel,” he says as he stands up and takes you hands in his. “Bitte, I’ll take you” 

“Toto, no but you’ll miss all your meetings-”

“Schatz, it wasn’t a question. I’m taking you back to the hotel and I’ll clear my schedule for the morning so I can be there by your side if you need anything.”

With your fingers tangled in his he lifts you up off the sofa and wraps his coat, that was hung over the chair, around your shoulders. You were his assistant, he was you boss, but your connection exceeded far beyond that; in that you had each other’s backs no matter what. You could always count on him. 

“Thank you Toto,” you say as he rubs you arms to comfort you and make your way to the door. He pauses his walk before opening the door and runs his hand through your hair. 

“Anything for you, my love.”

————

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#toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff drabble

[north-blue-hearts]

Family Practice

CisFem Reader x Trafalgar Law

CW: sex, language, violence

Summary: Modern Mafia-coded AU starts in last semester of College

Chapter 3: You Bet

“Yes, I’ll be there for the party,” you say, phone tucked between your ear and shoulder as you’re unpacking into your hotel room. “I promise Marco, I’ll even wear a dress. I just needed to get my friend off campus, and I’m trying to help him relax for the first time in his little emo life, so there’s no way I’m exposing him to Luffy and Ace and Thatch.”

“Alright, (y/n),” you can hear Marco’s lazy smile through the phone. “If anything happens, don’t hesitate to call. You know who all is going to be in town for the party, so don’t try to face anything down by yourself, yoi.”

“Aye, Aye.” You answer. “Love you Marco, give my regards to the boys, and warn them-.”

Marco laughed. “They won’t bother you unprompted, I promise. Love you too, (y/n), stay safe.”

You hang up in time for a knock on the door between your room and the one next door. You turn the handle and open the door, stepping back to what you were doing.

“I’m almost done.” You assure him. “Nothing embarrassing left to put away, so you can safely enter.”

“I can’t imagine you being embarrassed by anything.” He admits with a scoff, leaning against the door frame.

You laugh. “Okay, growing up around a bunch of rowdy boys, I will admit there’s not a whole lot that bothers me anymore. In truth, I was worried about your delicate sensibilities, Pre-Med.”

“You lifted my shirt without warning!” He barked, knowing exactly what you were picking him on for.

You grinned. “I still feel bad about that.”

“You look it.” He grumbled.

You can’t stop the laugh as you get the last of your things put away. “I can feel bad and be amused at the same time.”

“Tch. I’m here now, what’s the secret itinerary you wouldn’t show me before we got here?”

“Calling it an itinerary is maybe giving me more credit than I deserve.” You admit. “Dinner tonight at Sanji’s café, tomorrow I figured I’d give you a tour of the city, maybe swing through Binks’ Carnival. There’s a bonfire festival tomorrow night to end the day. After that I figured we could play it by ear. There’s tons of stuff in the city, so if something catches your interest while we’re out, just let me know.”

“… What’s a bonfire festival?”

“Stall food, big bon fire, music, dancing – stuff like that. Happens after the sun goes down.”

“I… don’t dance.”

You smile. “I won’t force you, but you don’t need to know how to dance to bounce around a bonfire. Even if you don’t let me drag you around a dangerously large fire to the sounds of music played by half-drunk musicians with nothing better to do, I’d still like for you experience it.”

“That’s acceptable.”

“If you don’t dance, what do you do to stay in shape?”

“Aside from dragging sixteen credit hours of books around campus?” He asks ruefully, before continuing to answer honestly. “Parkour, kendo, kick-boxing.”

“That explains your physique.” You muse, your eyebrows are raised. “I enjoy parkour – at least around the city, and I’m pretty decent at MMA. I mean, I haven’t had a need to do any fights for money since I enrolled, but I could.”

“You don’t look like a fighter.”

“And you look more like a gangster than a doctor,” you grin. “Ready?”

He grunts.

So far, the best part about dragging Law to the city during break was seeing him in off-campus mode. A lot of his classwork had become practical, so he was often dressed up more than most students, so that his appearance was appropriate for any off-campus of patient-facing work. But here, he was all jeans and t-shirts, hoodies and boots, and a fluffy white hat that suited him entire too well.

And one day you were going to successfully snag it. At least long enough to grab a quick picture or two with it on. All you knew for certain was that Bepo, Penguin and Sachi had pooled their money when the four of them were young and replaced a hat that Law had liked so much, he’d worn it to pieces. Which meant your careful planning needed to include no harm this new hat in any way.

You spend most of the walk to Sanji’s café explaining the city as you know it to Law. You point out the streets that would lead to other areas, including where the carnival was located. You told him stories about your brothers, dodging the additional detail of the whole criminal underground mafia thing.

“Are all your brothers adopted?”

“Yeah, if Pops has any biological kids, I’ve never heard of ‘em.” You admit. “It’s not impossible though, he’s up there in age, I’m sure he had plenty of living in him before he adopted Marco Polo.”

“… Is your brother’s name really-.”

“Ah, no, sorry. Marco Polo is what I call Marco and Thatch. They’re twins. I mean, they look nothing alike, but they were born at the same time.” You explain.

“Do you have nicknames for everyone?”

“Mm, most folks, I guess. Anyway, there’s Marco, Thatch, Ace, Sabo, and Luffy – from oldest to youngest.”

“And their nicknames?”

You laugh, “Sure, but careful if you ever use ‘em. You know the first two, Ace’s is Spade, Sabo is Cinnamon Roll, and Luffy’s is Mugiwara. It was ‘Rue-ffy,” you explain, over annunciating the changed syllable, “But then he made friends with Shanks, and then Shanks gave him a straw hat as a gift, and he’s been obsessed since.”

“And Shanks is?”

You flinch. “Kind of a shady guy,” you admit. “I mean, I’d trust him to have my back, since I haven’t done anything bad to him, but he’s kind of intense, and well, Luffy is Luffy, so they get along on this weird wave-length I don’t get. It’s like a mentor-mentee thing with a side of rivalry, or a rivalry with a side of mentor-mentee.”

You walked to the café door and held it open for Law, “And with impeccable timing, here we are.” You say with a flourish and a bow. “Beauty before age, or something.”

Law grunts as he walks by and into the café. You two were close in age, but he did have you beat by a bit. There aren’t a whole lot of people in the café, and you tense up when you see who’s helping Sanji today.

“Aw, crumbs.” You mutter under your breath, and only Law hears you.

“Ah, Miss (y/n)!” The blonde behind the counter waved at you once he recognized you.

You made a face, and a noise in response, but he didn’t catch either. He was currently in the midst of trying to wink and failing miserably.

“Stop trying to wink, Duval.” You said at the same time as another blonde man, who came out from the kitchen with a scowl on his face.

You put your arms up in an exaggerated motion. “Saaaaanji-Swan!”

The new blonde perked up and beamed at you. “(Y/N)-chawn!” He exclaimed in your same tone of voice. He came out from behind the counter and hugged you. “Welcome back, you’re on break, right?”

“Yeah, and this,” you say, stepping back from Sanji and pointing to Trafalgar Law, “Is my college friend, Mr. Trafalgar.”

“You can call me Law,” he said, extending his hand for a shake.

Sanji returns the gesture, “Welcome to my café, Law, let’s get your date started.” He says with a smile.

“Not a date, Sanji.” You say sternly. “I specifically said, not a date when I told you we were coming by.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I feel like I’m going to have this conversation a lot.”

“Sorry, sorry – seat yourself, Duval will get your order soon.”

“Why Duval?” You ask, realizing how terrible it sounds you clarify, walking over to a table that catches your fancy. “Why did you hire Duval, I mean.”

“You’re in college. I needed an extra set of hands for rush hours. Nami’s helping Robin, and that idiot’s getting his delivery service going. You hear that Eustass and Killer got the deed for the shop?”

“Really?! That’s great, I’ll have to find time to congratulate him before I go back.”

“I hear he’s going to be at the Christmas Party.” Sanji added.

“Mm, that’ll work out. You too?”

“Probably. Nami wanted to go this year. You should come too, Law.” Sanji said as Law sat down. “There’s so many people there, one more won’t hurt anything.”

“I’m trying to help him relax, Sanji.” You said, realizing this was another conversation you were going to have a lot while you were back home.

Sanji put his hands up in defeat. “Point made.”

“Do you know everyone?” Law questions as he picks up a menu, and his tone says he expects you to say yes.

“Hardly,” you start counting people off on your fingers. “Sanji, Zoro, Nami, Eustass and I were in school together from middle school to high school, along with Ace and Sabo. Luffy’s a couple years younger, and he has some friends from his grade that are mixed in there too. Killer’s a couple years older, but he’s been friends with Eustass since they were kids, and Killer became friends with Heat and Wire. Killer, Kid – er Eustass – Heat and Wire always wanted to open a mechanic shop.”

“And Duval?” Law asks, looking past you to the counter, and holding up his index finger.

“… First boyfriend.” You answer. Your face and your tone match, and you see a curious and bemused expression cross Law’s face briefly.

“I’d ask what happened, but it seems my attempt to stall was misinterpreted.” Law says, looking down to the menu as you hear Duval come up behind you.

“What can I get the cute couple today?”

“Could you ask Sanji if he can do an onigiri basket for us, instead of a sandwich basket?” You ask, looking up with the best smile you can manage to will onto your face.

“Sure!” Duval replied cheerfully and headed into the back.

You take in a breath and let it out. “I’ll tell you, only if you promise to be nice to Duval.”

“… Considering how much you’re struggling; I don’t know if I can agree to that.”

“I mean, he’s paid his debt, at least.”

“Is that why he looks like he’s having a stroke when he tries to wink?”

You scoff. “He could never wink. No, uh, he got his face rearranged so bad it took a couple surgeries to correct. Duval didn’t always look that way.” You pull out your phone and start scrolling. After a moment you get far back enough to find a picture of pre-operation Duval and show it to Law.

“He changed entirely.” Law looked legitimately impressed.

“Mm.” You agree, putting your phone back.

There was silence between you for a moment and Duval came back to say that Sanji could do as you had requested and was already started on it. You ordered some drinks to go along with it and went back to your silence until Law broke it.

“I promise to keep my cool, what happened?”

You look up for a moment before looking down at your hands. “Duval was a dumb teenager, and we were all dumb teenagers, and dumb teenagers don’t know when to back off. He didn’t do anything unforgivable, but things escalated slowly over about six weeks, and he was maybe about to do something unforgivable. Duval’s got me on reach, and I was cocky about my fighting abilities and at the end of the day, Sanji and Luffy walked in on things and sent Duval to the hospital.”

Anger and confusion flashed across Law’s face, and confusion won out. “Sanji hired him?”

“A couple years after that Duval ended up saving my life.” You say, pointedly avoiding eye contact. “So yeah, we’ve all forgiven him. I just… it’s awkward.”

“Understandably.” Law’s quiet for a moment. “I feel like we need a bet.”

You smile, “I imagine so.” You weren’t surprised, it was obvious that you weren’t getting into the details of having nearly died easily. Winning a bet would give Law the right to ask whatever he wanted. “What did you have in mind?”

“Something completely up to chance,” he said. “I bet something will happen that will require me to attend the Christmas Party. If nothing happens and I don’t go – as planned – then you win.”

“That’s an interesting situation,” you admit with a smile. “I wouldn’t mind you coming to the party, but then I’d lose the bet. You’d prefer to avoid attendance, but then you’d lose the bet.” You laugh. “Seriously, all our bets so far have been like this.”

“I think we’d both manage to find loopholes otherwise.” He admits a soft smile before he takes a drink.

“Alright, I’ll accept, but under one condition.”

He gives you an inquisitive look.

“Let me drag you around the bonfire tomorrow night.”

“Only if I can ask two questions if I win.”

“Sure,” You agree with a smile.

The rest of the evening went smoothly. You enjoyed a variety of onigiri from Sanji and left pleasantly full. You shook Duval’s hand when you left, but you didn’t correct him on his couple’s assumption, and neither did Law.

You pointed out a few more places on the way back to the hotel, but the pace was a little quicker since the sun had set. It wasn’t freezing cold out, it didn’t get that cold in the city, but it was significantly colder with the sundown. Law seemed mostly unbothered by it, but his longer legs meant he could still walk while you jogged beside him.

“How’re you – not even breathing – heavy,” you questioned, catching your breath as you reached the hotel.

“I have a few classes I need to run to get to on time.” He admits, and your relieved to at least see he’s breathing heavier than usual.

“Running with books,” you catch your breath. “I guess that’s a decent daily workout routine.”

“I’m impressed you kept up.”

“My jog turned into a run a couple of times, but I grew up bouncing off the alleys of this city, so I’m actually embarrassed I was breathing so hard earlier.” You admit, pulling out the key card for your room. “I think I’m going to enjoy the luxuries of the room and sleep an indecently long number of hours.”

Law smiles softly, “Sleep well, (y/n)-ya.” He says, unlocking his door, pushing it open with his back, and stepping backward into the room.

“Same to you, Pre-med.” You say, unlocking your door and walking into your hotel room.

The door closes behind you, and you stand in the little hallway for a moment. Law’s smile had reached his eyes and was stuck in your head. You shook the image away, dismissing it. College students with rooms next door to one another, it was just the setting getting to you.

He was good looking; you’d admitted as much to him as soon as you had met him. Getting to know him hadn’t diminished that, but the last time you let someone get close, you nearly died, and you had the scar and tattoo to remind you.

#Family Practice #trafalgar law #x reader #reader insert #mafia au

[pickalilywrites]

Marcel x Mina Valentines date.

saw this amazing rare pair pop up in my inbox and thought "anon, you know exactly what you're doing"

like-minded

serumina. high school au. 3359 words. read on ao3.

Mina stands in front of the mirror unhappily, turning this way and that to examine her outfit at all angles. She’s picked out several different outfits for this date a week ago and had enlisted Annie’s help last night to make the final selection, but she’s still worried that Marcel will think her outfit is childish which is ridiculous because Marcel would never think that. He’s too nice, and Mina is clearly overthinking things. She knows all this, and yet she can’t help but frown at her reflection — the pigtails she had tied and untied several dozen times before deciding to keep them, the knitted pastel pink sweater studded with pearls, the black knee-length skirt, the tights decorated with hearts, and the shiny Mary Jane heels. Although she knows she’s bothered Annie more than Annie deserves over these past few days, Mina picks up her phone and calls her best friend for the fifth time that morning.  

“What?” Annie asks. She’s forgone pleasantries after Mina called the second time. To others, Annie might sound disgruntled, but Mina knows this is Annie’s usual tone. In the background, Mina can hear a movie playing — probably Legally Blonde or 13 Going on 30 knowing Annie’s preference for watching romcoms in bed while clearing out a box of chocolates by herself on Valentine’s Day instead of going on a date. 

“I don’t know about this,” Mina says, and she hears Annie sigh on the other end. Mina bites her lip and paces back and forth in front of her mirror, trying hard not to glance at her reflection. With her other hand, she plays with the hem of her skirt. “What if Marcel hates it? What if he regrets going out with me? What if he never speaks to me again?” 

The sound of rustling can be heard on the other end as Annie adjusts herself on her bed to a sitting position. The movie stops playing and Mina feels a bit guilty about interrupting her friend’s movie marathon once more. 

“Mina, you should give yourself and Marcel more credit,” Annie says. Despite her rough exterior, she’s incredibly patient as she speaks to Mina. “He asked you out because he likes you, and you’re an amazing person. The only way to make him regret a date with you is to be the complete opposite of who you are, and I don’t see that happening. And it’s clear that Marcel took a lot of time and effort to prepare this date. Didn’t you tell me that he was asking you what your favorite places were and what your ideal date would be just so he could curate the perfect Valentine’s Day date?”  

Mina flushes at the reminder. It’s true that Marcel had asked her about her date preferences prior to Valentine’s Day. She had asked him earlier if she could take a glimpse of the itinerary but he had refused, telling her he wanted it to be a surprise. She trusts Marcel enough to know that she’ll love it, and she’s touched at how much care he had taken to ensure she’d have a good time. She really should stop letting herself be consumed with worry and just enjoy today.  

“Anyway, you should just have fun. Marcel should be there soon,” Annie says. 

Mina glances at the clock on her wall and realizes that it’s almost 11. She swears under her breath and mumbles a hasty goodbye to Annie. Sure enough, Mina finds a text from Marcel on her screen letting her know that he’s waiting for her outside.  

Mina grabs her heart-shaped pouch hanging from the back of her chair and is about to bolt out of her room and down the stairs to meet Marcel, but she hesitates when the couple’s keychains sitting on her dresser catch her eye. She had bought them the other day impulsively thinking they were cute, but she’s hesitant to give them to Marcel now. Do people give each other couple’s keychains anymore? It’s something that had been popular in middle school, but they’re in high school now and she’s afraid that Marcel will find it childish. The design is simple — matching plush bears  a little larger than her thumb except one has a pink heart stitched on its chest while the other has a blue heart. Mina picks them up and examines them, biting her lip as she debates on whether she should take them. In the end, she shoves them into her pouch, not wanting to keep Marcel waiting any longer.  

She nearly trips over her own foot as she flies down the stairs. Maybe she should have taken a little more time instead of running down to see Marcel as soon as possible, but the thought of keeping him waiting for one second longer than necessary would kill her. She’s breathless when she throws open the door and runs out to meet him. Her cheeks are probably flushed right now, most definitely a deeper shade of pink than her sweater, but Marcel doesn’t notice or is too polite to say anything about it.  

“You look amazing,” he says to Mina with a broad smile on his face.  

“Oh, this? Thank you. I just threw it together this morning,” Mina says, giving her outfit a casual glance. She’s trying to play it cool even as she’s catching her breath.  

“I’m a lucky guy,” Marcel laughs, and Mina can feel herself turn an even deeper shade of pink. He fiddles with something in his pocket for a bit. At first Mina thinks he’s going to fish something out, but his hands remain in his pockets and he gives Mina rueful grin. “Shall we get going? Our schedule is kind of packed today.”  

“Sure,” Mina says. She walks side-by-side with Marcel, their footsteps in tandem with Marcel only slightly ahead of her so that he can take the lead. She tries not to stare too wistfully at the hands Marcel still has stuffed in his pockets. She imagines his hands swinging freely at his sides and the backs of their hands brushing as they walked alongside each other. She’s so lost in her daydream that she almost doesn’t realize Marcel is speaking. 

“... take care of everything,” Marcel is saying. He glances at Mina and she quickly diverts her gaze to stare at her shoes. “If you happen to dislike it midway, just let me know. I planned alternatives just in case.”  

“Wow, you really prepared for this,” Mina says. 

“Of course,” Marcel laughs. Mina might be imagining it, but he seems to be blushing slightly. “I want you to enjoy it.”  

Mina knows she’ll love it, and she’s only more certain of it when Marcel leads her to Charming Confections, a cute baroque-themed café with flowers and sparkling chandeliers hanging from the ceilings, that she’s always meant to go to but had never gone because it was so crowded. She had mentioned wanting to visit months ago, but she had never thought Marcel would remember and take her here. He probably had to make a reservation weeks in advanced.  

She peers over the top of the menu to gaze at Marcel who’s busy deciding on what to order. She’s well aware of the stares he’s receiving from other girls, some of which are with their own boyfriends but are unable to tear their eyes away from the good-looking, dark-haired boy that’s accompanying her. Mina doesn’t blame them. Marcel is ridiculously handsome, but she’s the only one who knows how thoughtful and kind he is. The thought that he’s decided to go out with her on Valentine’s Day instead of anyone else fills her with warmth.  

Marcel’s eyes flit upward at Mina, surprising her. “Did you decide what you wanted to order yet?” he asks.  

Mina pretends to have been looking at the menu all along even though she’s memorized all the dishes and beverages after spending so much time imagining her perfect date here. She purses her lips. “The breakfast croissant looks good, but so does the salmon penne pasta.”  

“Oh, that’s great. I was looking at those two, too,” Marcel says. His eyes crinkle so adorably when he smiles. Mina wonders if he knows. “If you’re okay with it, we can order those and split it so we can both try it.”  

“I’d like that a lot,” Mina says.  

Despite the crowd, service is quick and they’re soon presented with the breakfast croissant and salmon penne pasta. The breakfast croissant is divine: a buttery, flaky croissant served with an egg cooked sunny side up, seasoned with salt and pepper and garnished with green onions that have been slightly scorched in the pan. On the side are pineapple sausages cut into slices and served along with a small salad drizzled with vinaigrette. The salmon penne pasta is plated in a stylish pan and covered in a creamy alfredo sauce, topped with fragrant thyme leaves as a garnish.  

Mina thought she wouldn’t be able to get any food down eating in front of Marcel, but he makes her so comfortable by leading the conversation that she forgets why she was nervous in the first place. They trade stories about their respective middle schools — Mina had gone to Shiganshina Middle School while Marcel had attended Liberio Middle School with Annie — and Mina laughs at all the shenanigans Marcel had gotten into with his brother and their friends as preteens. Every once and a while he’ll ask Mina how she’s enjoying the food and share a forkful of his pasta with her. Just as they’re about to finish their plates, a waitress comes out with a small chocolate cake. It’s one that Mina had always had her eye on because it looked so decadent and rich, but she could never justify the cost of buying a slice of cake for herself at a café when she could just go to the grocery store and buy a whole cake for the same price.  

Mina looks at Marcel with surprise.  

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. They just look so good,” Marcel laughs as he wipes his mouth with a napkin. He pushes the dessert plate towards Mina first. “I’ve always wanted to try one, and I thought now might be a good time since I could share it with you.”  

Mina bites back a smile and confesses, “I’ve always wanted to try this, too.”  

“It’s great that we came here together then,” Marcel says. He watches as Mina takes the first bite, but he waits for her to swallow before asking, “How is it?”  

Mina raises her hand to touch her cheek as she tries to recall the experience of eating the first bite. She can still taste the cake on her tongue, the rich, velvety cake and the decadent dark chocolate frosting with just the right amount of bittersweet. “Amazing,” she tells Marcel. 

Marcel grins and takes a bite of his own. He doesn’t even finish chewing when his mouth falls open and he has to cover his mouth with his hand in embarrassment. “Oh, wow, you weren’t kidding. This is incredible.”  

The two continue eating the chocolate cake, savoring every bit, and each agree that it’s the best cake that they’ve ever eaten. When they finally finish, Marcel tips the waitress generously and thanks her for the wonderful service. He leads Mina out the door of the café with an excited grin on his lips, but he doesn’t tell Mina where they’re going.  

“You’ll know when we get there,” he assures Mina. 

As they get closer and closer to the destination, Mina does find that the road is becoming more and more familiar. When she realizes where they are, she puts her hands over her mouth in surprise.  

“The arcade?” she asks. She had mentioned to Marcel once that she enjoyed going to the arcade in middle school but had fallen out of the habit once she went to high school because she needed more time to study. It’s been ages since she’s stepped foot here. “You really want to go?” 

“You made it sound so enticing, how could I not?” Marcel grins. He opens the door open for Mina and gestures for her to go in.  

With only one foot through the door, Mina is hit by a wave of nostalgia. The arcade pulses with brainless pop music that she knows she’ll forget as soon as she steps outside. She remembers the colorful carpet, the arcade games lining the aisles, and the claw machines that have taken far more of her money than she’s willing to admit. It takes her back to a simpler time and she can’t help but bounce on the heels of her toes in excitement. 

“You’re the expert, Carolina. Which one should we hit up first?” Marcel asks.  

“Oh, gosh, there are so many good ones,” Mina says and her eyes gaze over all the different arcade games they have. They don’t seem to have changed very much from when she had been there last although there are a lot more claw machines in the corner than she remembers.  

She ends up leading Marcel to a racing game she had probably wasted hours on as a middle schooler. He laughs when she shows him the high score she had gotten in the seventh grade that still hasn’t been beaten and jokingly tells her that he’ll get his name in the top ten. He doesn’t, but he put in a good effort and he claps when Mina manages to rank in the top five despite not playing in years.  

She shows him whack-a-mole next. It seems easy to those who haven’t played it before, but it’s much more difficult than one would think. Marcel gets frustrated after missing the first few and lets out an excited yell that makes Mina giggle. She advises him to relax a little bit, to just let his body react rather than acting first, and he soon begins to get the hang of it. He hits three in a row and lets out a victorious roar that causes Mina to bend over in a fit of giggles once more.  

They play DDR, which Marcel picks up quickly. Mina probably should have expected it from one of the school’s best athletes. They play all the trending pop songs and Marcel isn’t even breaking a sweat after the fifth round. Mina, however, is red-faced and breathless and begs for a break.  

“How come you haven’t taken me to the claw machines?” Marcel asks as he waits for Mina to catch her breath. He gestures towards the claw machines that are lining the side of the room. “Aren’t they popular with couples? I could win you something.”  

Mina shakes her head, although she’s delighted with Marcel referring to them as a couple. “Those things are money vacuums. They take all you have and give you nothing in return. I’m only keeping you away from your own good. I know how addicting they can be.” 

“Well, I won’t be addicted. I’ll win you something, and you’ll regret not having told me sooner,” Marcel says. Even as Mina rolls her eyes, Marcel struts confidently over to a claw machine. He picks one that has different Sanrio plushies and gives Mina a grin as he slides a dollar into the slot. “Just you wait, Mina. I’m going to get you a Pompompurin.” 

Mina doesn’t reply. She just watches as Marcel takes the stick and guides the claw towards the Pompompurin plush in the corner. She can feel his excitement as the claw grasps the plush dog and pulls it free from the mountain of Sanrio plushies. Just as the claw is making its journey back, the Pompompurin slips from its grip and falls back into the pile of plushies.  

Mina leans against the claw machine and gives Marcel an “I told you so” look.  

“I have more money,” Marcel says and immediately starts for his wallet until Mina grabs him by the wrist and stops him.  

“No, I’m cutting you off,” she giggles and Marcel gives her a grin. She notices that she’s holding his wrist and lets go, clasping her hands together. Flustered, she asks, “Should we try out a different game?”  

“Sure,” Marcel says and follows Mina as she leads him to the bowling area.  

Once they’re finished with the arcade, Marcel takes Mina to a bookstore that specializes in stationery. A big fan of bullet journaling, Mina marvels at all the different notebooks and pens that are available. She spends more time than she probably should perusing the shelves. Occasionally, she glances over at Marcel to make sure he isn’t bored, but he always gives her a reassuring smile and continues to inspect the stationery selection himself.  

Although Mina insists against it, Marcel purchases a notebook for her. It’s a lined notebook with a soft cover and embossed with a flower in the front. He must have noticed how her gaze had lingered on it longer than the other notebooks in the store. She’s so touched that he had taken so much notice that she vows to never write in it, which makes Marcel chuckle.  

“I had a really great time,” Mina says, cheeks flushing as they walk home together. “I’m really happy you planned everything. It was perfect.”  

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Marcel says. “I had a fun time, too.”  

This time, Marcel’s hands hang by his sides as they walk together. Mina tries not to make it obvious that she’s glancing down at his hands, but maybe she’s not as inconspicuous as she thinks she is because Marcel reaches down to hold her hand. He does it casually as if it isn’t a big deal, but it still makes Mina’s heart jump into her throat. Somehow, it reminds her of the keychains that she has in her pouch. 

Should she give it to him? Should she pretend she doesn’t have anything at all and just bid him goodbye? She’s worried that the keychain is childish, but Marcel hadn’t ridiculed any of her likes today. In fact, he had catered everything today to her preferences and he had even enjoyed many of the same things she did. She needs to give him a little more credit. She needs to be a little braver.  

“Wait,” Mina says, letting Marcel’s hand go so that she can dig through her pouch. After a bit, she pulls out the teddy keychains and holds them out to Marcel. She can’t quite decipher the look on his face — something akin to surprise although that’s not quite it — but it’s too late for her to take it back now. “I ... I got these for us. I thought it would be nice ... to have couple’s keychains.”  

She begins to falter when she sees Marcel’s expression. He doesn’t seem excited to see them, and he doesn’t reach out to take any of the keychains either.  

“Only if you want. I can return them, too, if you think it’s too silly,” Mina says quickly. 

“No, no, wait!” Marcel fumbles for something in his pocket and then pulls out two of the same keychains from his pocket. They two bears in his hand look identical to the ones in Mina’s hand. He looks sheepishly at Mina. “I saw these the other day and thought it would be nice if we had them. I just wasn’t sure if you’d like them.”  

Mina is speechless. She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “What are we going to do with two pairs?” she finally laughs.  

Marcel looks for a moment and then swaps his blue-hearted bear with hers. He grins as he looks down at her puzzled expression.  

“We can each have one of the other person’s. It might look strange to other people that we have a whole set, but we’ll know,” Marcel tells her. He tries to gauge her reaction, but he can’t quite read it. “What are you thinking?” 

Mina’s face breaks into a smile. “I’m thinking that I’m so lucky to have a guy that’s as kind and sweet as you,” she says before surprising him with a kiss on the cheek.  

#mina carolina #marcel galliard #serumina #snk #high school au #hs au #asks #answered #anon #anonymous #requests

[angy-mouse]

Chapter 6: One Boytoy, Two Boytoy

<Prev Next>

“Your Majesty, I- what the fuck are you doing?”

You blinked in surprise at Sean’s sudden appearance, smiling as if you weren’t wrestling Rosanna for a whisk to lick clean of frosting. “Nothing,” you chirped, still trying to reach around her as she tried to knock you away with devastating hip checks.

“... Never mind, we don’t have time. U.N.E. Here. Now.”

“Fuck,” you gasped, dashing out the door (but not without dipping a spoon into the frosting first). “Fuck, fuck, fuuuck, they aren’t supposed to be here for another hour!” You jammed the spoon into your mouth as you speed walked, Sean’s long legs easily keeping pace.

“You know those three- I’m sure Bad will apologize profusely for being late because he wanted to be three hours early.”

You grunted around your spoon. “It was great when I was a child and he’d let me ride on his shoulders for hours- now I know how my father must have felt. I still have to double-check the seating, discuss the itinerary with the musicians-”

“I’ll take care of the musicians,” he offered, undoing the knot of your apron as you walked. “Gentle playing during the signing, fast-paced directly after to celebrate, then soft during the meal, right?”

“Yes, but the seating-”

Sean pulled you to a stop in front of the door, plucking the spoon from your mouth and the apron from around your neck, making sure your gown was still pristine. “There’s plenty of time to finalize that, just focus on your guests for now so the contracts actually get signed.”

“Right as always,” you chuckled, feeling him lift a huge weight off your shoulders as you exchanged a hearty high-five.

“Wapush! Go get ‘em, lass- Your Majesty!”

“Your Irish almost came out there,” you teased as he walked off, flipping you off behind his back. You straightened out your gown one more time before nodding to the maid waiting for you. You walked in as casually as possible as she announced you. “Terribly sorry for the wait, I’m sure you understand how busy-” Suddenly the chandelier was grazing the top of your head.

“My precious little muffin! Look at you, all grown up! Oh, when did that happen, huh? I remember when you were just ankle high with your cute little pigtails-”

“Nice to see you, too, Bad,” you wheezed as he swung you around, legs dangling and lungs constricted under his tight grip.

“Uh, she has to breathe, you know.”

“Oh!” He hastily set you on your feet, holding your hands gently in his much larger ones to make sure you were steady as you tried to catch your breath as subtly as possible to not upset him- you were sure he’d never forgive himself if he thought he hurt you. “I’m sorry, dear, are you alright?”

“You practically strangled her in her first year on the throne-”

“I’m fine,” you assured, casting Skeppy a joking glare as you squeezed Bad’s hands in yours. “You shouldn’t antagonize him so much, you know how he worries.”

“Oh, you and Skeppy are so mean,” Bad huffed, but quickly got over it as he seemed to realize something. He let go of you and stepped aside to join his husband, revealing Prince Sapnap in all his socially awkward glory. In many ways he was exactly as you remembered- the unruly hair and the warm eyes that felt like a cozy evening by the fire when you looked into them- but, much as it pained you to admit it, he was clearly a much different boy- a different man than you’d last seen.

“Your Highness,” you greeted cordially, holding your hand out to be kissed.

“Your Majesty,” he greeted back, one hand coming from behind his back to hold yours as he pressed his lips firmly to the back before straightening up again, but he didn’t let you go. His hand was as warm as a bonfire, but it was a comforting heat, and you found it somehow complimented his slightly calloused fingers that clung to yours.

A wide grin broke through your facade of formality, gripping his hand and using it to pull him into your arms. It felt like hugging a wall, practically smothering your cheek between his pecs just to get your arms around him. “It’s been forever,” you laughed, faltering when your arm hit something hard and bulky behind his back. “Hmm? What’s that?”

“O-Oh, uh, well, I wasn’t sure what to bring for your gift-”

Ah, yes, the gift. It was custom for the concubine’s father to present the Emperor with a gift for taking in his daughter- typically land or horses or some other flaunt of wealth. But you had no interest in that sort of thing, you wrote when you sent out the acceptance letters. You asked for a gift from the men you were welcoming into your home for the foreseeable future- something with more meaning behind it.

“-I know you always wanted a pet, so I just thought… Well, anyway, uh, here,” he trailed off, face turning red as he took a step back, holding the carrier between you. “He’s from last season’s clutch, so he’s already got some basic training, but he’s still young, so you can name him and teach him new things and-”

You felt your heart flutter as a little flat head poked out of one of the holes in the carrier, forked tongue poking out as you studied each other. “Oh, Sapnap, he’s precious,” you cooed, rubbing the top of his head with your finger and watching him preen. “I can’t believe you remembered! He’s just the prettiest color, too,”

His nerves visibly lightened on his face, mouth curling into a smile as he watched you play with the baby dragon. “Of course I remembered, you only asked for one every birthday and Solstice.”

“You’re just too sweet,” you decided, cupping his cheek and leaning on your toes to kiss the other. You giggled as his face started burning red again, and he held the carrier up higher to block your view. 

“Well- uh- ahem- maybe I could help you take care of him sometime- since I’m going to be, uh, staying here-”

“Ahem,” you heard, making you jump before glancing over Sapnap’s shoulder to find your head of security at the door. “Announcing the arrival of King Taken and Prince Dream of Selgia,” Mark bellowed before stepping aside to let them in.

Sapnap whipped back around to face you, eyes wide and jaw dropped. “You accepted Dream?”

“Of course I did,” you muttered back, “I’ve planned for at least four years of reign before starting a war.” You politely excused yourself, Bad happily waving you off to take your place talking to his son as you approached the Selgia royals.

“It’s His Majesty Taken and His Highness Dream- do get it right next time, young man, or I’ll see to it your job goes to someone who knows respect-”

“King Taken,” you greeted, feeling your genuine smile from reuniting with your old friends fade away into a political one. “I do hope you aren’t trying to intimidate my staff. Mr. Iplier has dealt with far more frightening threats than any of us can imagine, and without a scratch to be seen. I wouldn’t dream of replacing him.” Mark smiled with his chest puffed in pride as the foreign king tried to regain his composure.

“Of course, Emperor, I merely- well, I only meant-”

“Do forgive my father,” Prince Dream interrupted, stepping forward and taking one of your hands in both of his. “I’m afraid being away from home always puts him in a sour mood. But if I may say, Your Majesty, your photos simply don’t do you justice- you are absolutely breathtaking.”

You hated him. His eyes were cold, his smile so clearly painted on, and every word out of his mouth was a politically smart lie. If Sapnap was a warm evening by the fire, Dream was a cold knife inches from your throat. 

“And you, charming,” you accepted as he laid a kiss on the back of your hand- you didn’t need to like him, you just needed to prevent another war. “I’m glad you both were able to come. It will be good to show the people that there is no ill will between us.”

“Speaking of,” Dream hummed, showing off a velvet black jewelry box. “For you, Your Majesty, as thanks for welcoming me into your home.” He opened it, presenting you with a pretty pale pink heart-shaped stone in a gold ivy setting on a matching chain. “An alma stone pendant, enchanted by our royal sorceress for luck and prosperity.”

It was a gorgeous stone and a beautiful necklace. It was a kind gesture. It was pathetically perfunctory. You supposed you should expect nothing more from someone you’ve never met, let alone someone who would have benefitted from your death mere months ago, but after Sapnap’s thoughtful gift… No, you criticized yourself, this whole thing was strictly business, and you wouldn’t allow yourself to forget that a second time.

“How lovely,” you mused politely. “Would you put it on for me?” With the chaos of arranging this event, you could use a little luck.

“It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty.”

With your hair put up neatly, you simply folded your hands, letting him circle around you to clasp the chain around your throat. Everything about Dream unnerved you, from his perfect posture to the practically clinical way he put the necklace on you. He was the handsome, obedient, smart, and charming son every ruler hoped for. The only problem was that son didn’t exist. Whether it was a sour personality, a penchant for women, or an addiction of some kind, Dream was lying about his true personality to please either you or his parents- and you despised liars.

“Thank you,” you said anyway as the cold metal settled around your throat.

“Of course,” he purred. His hands rested on your shoulders as he leaned down, breath fanning over your ear. His touch was as cold and unyielding as the stone on your clavicle. "Perhaps this evening-"

"Dame Minx of the Royal Guard!"

You looked past King Taken, red-faced as he prepared another tangent against the security officer, no doubt, and watched Minx glare at the shorter man.

"With all the screaming you do, I pity your girlfriend," she muttered disdainfully. You hid a snicker as he responded by lifting his small horn and giving a short toot right in her ear. She recovered quickly, though- she was always amazing at keeping a facade of professionalism. "Majesty, you're being asked for in the dining hall." 

"I'm sure it's nothing someone else can't take care of," the king interrupted sharply- you sure weren't looking forward to visiting Selgia any time soon if this is how he acted as a guest. "Can't you see Her Majesty is busy? Why, if-"

"It's quite alright," you rushed to soothe him. You offered both Selgia men your hands, which they accepted, tucking them into the crooks of their elbows as they let you guide them to join the others at the other end of the hall. "I prefer to do the final check on everything myself, so I told them to send for me." It was only partially a lie, but you were sure Minx had a good reason for fetching you- especially after she oh so cruelly abandoned you this morning to prepare with the rest of the guard. "Mark, will you call someone-"

"Right here, Your Majesty."

You jumped at the sudden appearance of the maid just a few feet away, trying to recover as Dream's chuckling made you realize you'd clung to him in shock. "Ah- yes, thank you, Lizzy," you managed as you released both men, turning to address all five foreign nobles. "Lizzy will take you to the study so you can relax after your long trip and prepare for the feast. Lizzy, please get them a contract copy to look over. After, please take…" you frowned as you blanked on a name. "I'll name him later, but please take that little cutie from Sapnap and bring him to my chambers."

"Please don't call a dragon 'cutie,'” Sapnap joked, barely above a mutter as he no doubt pushed through his social anxiety to try and be funny. "You'll emasculate him."

You let a grin stretch on your lips. "I'm going to name him something ridiculously cute like Mr. Sniffles, and you can't stop me." 

"How dastardly," 

You allowed yourself a short giggle as he let Lizzy take the carrier before painting back on your air of pleasant formality. "Well then, I look forward to seeing you all this evening," you dismissed, taking Minx's offered arm and letting her lead you into the hall. “So, what’s going wrong this time?”

“What if I told you I pulled you away just because I missed you?”

“You shouldn’t lie to your emperor, it’s unbecoming.”

“You wound me.” She sighed when you continued staring at her, waiting for an answer. “Captain scolded me for trying to help secure the perimeter instead of returning to you… and I really didn’t want to listen to old men and sleazy princes try to woo you.”

“Ooh, jealous much?”

“Don’t even.”

You laughed at that, letting go of her arm to get a few steps in front of her, turning around to face her as you walked backwards. “Awww, you know you’ll always be my favorite, Minx!”

“I hope you trip.”

“If I did, you would catch me because you looove me!”

“I don’t,”

“You do!”

“Lies and slander,”

You laughed again, a grin stretching across your lips as your mind raced to think of something to continue the banter, but it went away as you bumped into something. Your breath hitched as you started to fall, cursing your extremely fashionable but equally unstable shoes as you plummeted to the ground. What a tragic way to go, you mused.

“You’re such a klutz,” Minx huffed, snapping one arm around your waist as the other snatched the gaudy vase before it hit the ground.

“I knew you loved me,” you swooned, grinning as she pulled you into her chest. “You loooove me!”

“I should have let you drop,” she huffed. She let you cuddle into her chest piece as she put the vase back on its pedestal. “Should have let that drop, too, gods, that thing’s ugly.”

“Hideous,” you agreed. “But my mother loved it and daddy could never say no to her.”

“You got that from her at least.” You looked up at her with a hum, eyes fluttering shut to receive the soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re impossible to say no to.”

You laughed, bumping your nose to hers. “It’s because I’m so cute, isn’t it?”

“You’re pushing it, kid.”

#angymouse #squeakin #teah #dresqueaks #sapsqueaks

[interlagosed]

ok so you’ve dabbled recently about sewis babysitting the kids, can you elaborate? 🥺

Of course the kids love love love being with their grandparents. Any of them! And each kid has their favorite “uncle” to spend time with. Allegra loves spending time with Nando, because he takes them karting all the time. Charlie, of course, loves spending time with Uncle Sharlee because of all the amazing food. Landon has their favorite, Aurelia has her favorite.

But every single one them loves, loves, when Uncles Seb and Lewis babysit them. Even when the twins are older, they don’t try to get out of it - they always want to spend time with Seb and Lewis.

There’s always a set itinerary. They know exactly what the day is going to look like, and it’s constant entertainment and excitement. Lewis insists on buying special hang-out fits - and they don’t have to match either, because he’s a good uncle who cares about individuality. (This is the part they don’t tell their dads about, the shopping spree - because it always does turn into a shopping spree.)

Then, they go for brunch, and it’s always some lovely local restaurant that Seb treats like family, where no one disturbs them and the portions are as generous as the people. Charlie would never tell Charles this, but he actually prefers Seb’s picks over all the fancy restaurants Charles takes them to. The others definitely tell Charles this. There’s no restrictions on what the kids can eat, and Seb always “splits” dessert with them - but the kids end up eating it all anyway, like Seb intended.

Then they always, always go look at animals. Lewis always has Aurelia in his arms once she’s born, and he holds onto her like she’s something precious, small and delicate and wonderful. When she gets too big to hold- well, no she doesn’t. He insists on it, at least for a little while, until she wiggles away and he looks at her a little wistfully, but always full of pride. Inevitably, karting happens too (Allegra smokes them all and Lewis and Seb look at each other with barely-restrained excitement) and they go to amusement parks where Seb always ends up picking some litter off the ground and all four kids help while Lewis takes pictures and puts them on Instagram with the caption “♻️ with the best. #sewis #sainznorriskids #savetheearth.”

(“They’re having our kids do manual labor.”

“Ay, it builds character, querido.”

“I know! I just wanted to say manual labor.”)

They go to museums, where Landon lectures them all about the importance of repatriation. Lewis and Seb listen very seriously, and Lewis resolves to reach out to some friends to see what they can do in this space. Then Seb says it’s time for dinner, and they all promise to get ONE plant-based item to make Uncle Lew happy. They succeed: he is very happy. Charlie tries out some dessert and is so impressed that he decides to recreate it at home. Lewis is very happy.Aurelia draws bees on her little paper kiddie placemat and then gives it to Seb as a present. Seb cherishes it forever.

By the time the day ends and it’s time to get back to Seb and Lewis’ place, all of them are absolutely out of it. Even the twins, 16 at this point, can barely keep their eyes open. That’s how Seb and Lewis know they’ve done a good job. They make sure the kids are in bed and have everything they could possibly need - Aurelia stays in their bedroom with them, of course, since she’s still a toddler - and then text Carlos and Lando pictures from the day.

- they were good?

- they were the best.

#hibi answers #carlandads #sewis #carlando #carlando headcanons #sewis headcanons

[tppep]

Week 6

This week is all about interviews, which I was never really concerned with, I’ve always had some decent public speaking skills and can conduct myself professionally enough to give the interviewer a good impression. But that’s not to say that I didn’t experience difficulties in this section, because did I ever. One of the things I absolutely HATE doing is talking about my strengths and why I may be good at anything, so in response to that Holmesglen says “Hey, here’s a class where you need to talk about your strengths and what you may be good at”. I don’t know why I hate it so much, maybe because I don’t want to be seen as arrogant, or I don’t want to express something I think I’m good at whilst the people are wondering what I’m on about because they think I suck at it. So, what do I typically do? I sell myself short, I don’t dive deep into certain areas, instead opting to only scratch the surface of something that an interviewer might love to hear because I don’t want to sound conceited. However, I need to understand that highlighting a strength or discussing an incident of personal effectiveness isn’t arrogant, but rather a truthful assessment of my actions, which is backed up by Kelemen et al (2022) who declare that an important facet of humility is one’s ability to accurately assess their conduct and give an honest response to said conduct, whether that be positive or negative. Thus, I need to convince myself, that if I’ve done something well, if I’m proud of myself in any way, or if I have a particular aptitude for anything, I’m not pompous, if anything accurately evaluating my conduct would lend myself to being humbler.

So, how’d the interview go? Well, we start the day’s itinerary with mass panic as I was held up at work and had to send an e-mail to Simone before the mad dash to make the interview. However, I managed to make it to the room right as my interview was scheduled to begin and with thanks to some tunnel closures, Davin was late earlier in the day, so the interview times were shifted back slightly.

Leading into the interview, I knew that my ability to conduct myself naturally and confidently would get me through the interview but was apprehensive about my tendency to over-explain and talk myself into a corner…Which is exactly what happened. Cranford (2021) submits a 17-word editorial that states “Often, the best strategy to get your point across is to use as few words as possible” (pg. 1), which is essentially the feedback I received from my interviewers. I was told that my answers (while perfectly suitable) should be a little more refined and focussed on the points I’m trying to make and that I need to give the interviewer more credit and trust that they will understand the points I’m trying to make without over complicating it and costing myself. So, have I listened to their feedback? Well, considering I’m 510 words into a 400-word entry, I’d say there’s still quite a bit of work that needs to be done.

[passed-up-for-peace-of-mind]

12.28.23 9:28am

As far as I remember, the stages of a breakup were Being Really Sad, Getting Really Mad, and All the Stuff that Happens After You Decide You Don’t Want to be Mad Anymore. I never really did the sad stuff in the past because—pause, I’m headed to wikihow to see what they think the stages of a breakup are. I’ll let you know. Oh god eleven?? Shock, Denial, Bargaining, Pain, Anger, Disappointment, Withdrawal, Depression, Relapse, Acceptance, Forward Motion. I don’t love all of these, and frankly, I don’t think they all need to be part of my personal process. Not to cherry pick, but I absolutely am going to cherry pick. But first! I will judge where I am by their metric. Shock, denial, and bargaining are all out. I do not need those. I clearly already jumped to some version of pain when I woke up really nauseous an hour after falling asleep on Tuesday. Oh god, wikihow says pain is the longest stage and that it comes in waves! No! Oh well. Figures. Anger seems like the next step. I’m already disappointed and withdrawn, so maybe I can skip those too. And depression and relapse, those sound terrible. My itinerary is going to include: Pain, Anger, Acceptance, and Forward Motion. So, let’s get started with anger!

Dinky (my sibling) was the first to point out something that would make me mad: “You’re gonna hate this, but this is exactly what CS did to Sparrow.” Great point, I DID hate that. Clearly, I’m still in my [Ex] idolization zone. No matter, let’s get to work! [Ex] did break up with me so that he didn’t have to think about me or take care of me abroad because he doesn’t like it when I become any more convenient than necessary. He thinks that I don’t offer him anything when we’re long distance, so he feels like it’s worth it to just cut ties entirely. Maybe he thinks he can just come home, and we’ll get back together; or maybe he just believes that the peace of mind he’ll experience in [city ex is studying abroad in] is worth risking the end of our entire relationship. Maybe he didn’t like dating me! We simply don’t know, and I’m literally never going to ask, because who cares! I practiced enormous self restraint during our breakup; I made it very easy to break up with me, which I consider a pro move. Nothing you can say during a breakup will prevent you from being broken up with unless you are an abuser and the other person is afraid of what you’ll do if they don’t agree with you. That’s a simple fact to me. Plus, that’s unflattering behavior, and they’re more likely to consider getting back together with you if you seem 1) not desperate and 2) sane. Not that that’s something I’m worried about, whatever. Anyway, I was a very accepting breakupee, and I stopped myself from asking all the dumb questions. Instead I just said okay and asked the only question that seemed close to appropriate which was “are you sure?” and even that was riding the line. It gave me a clear insight into his process though, since his answer was “No, but I feel like I have to stick it out until I get back, which I know isn’t really an option.” So he DOES think we might get back together. Interesting. If he wants to get back together, I don’t want to deny him on the basis of spite, but it would be a cool plus if I moved on, and he wanted to get back together. He said he didn’t think he could ever be my roommate (which is a pretty tactful way to say “I don’t think I could ever live with you”), and he pointed out that he’s only ever had three girlfriends, and I’m the only girlfriend he’s had in his adult life. I think I pointed out that that’s on him, but there’s not really a difference we can make on that front right now. It simply IS his fault. I don’t think he’s ever been in real love either, me excluded. Chris (ex's most recent gf, whom he dated at age 15) was so long ago that even if he was, who knows if he remembers what it was like to be in love with someone other than me. Hold on a minute, I’m making a tumblr. 

I made my first tumblr post, it only took me forever!

Anyway, I don’t remember what I was talking about before. Wait, let me try. He wants to get out there and see if he can find someone better to date because he’s worried he’s committing too hard too early—there it is, we’re back in business, baby! Too bad I just said on tumblr that I was going to go make goat cheese toast… let’s just do this until we cross the meal thermocline into lunch (very soon, it’s almost 10:45, and many would argue that lunches can begin as early as 11:15). Anyway, he’s worried that there are less annoying versions of me out there to date or something, and fair, there probably are! But, it still hurts my feelings. Or, he’s just tired of being in a relationship all together, and he wants to live some of his adult life single, which I think might be more accurate. I also need to live some of my adult life single. I haven’t been properly single since 2020, and even then it wasn’t for more than a few months at a time, and even then, I usually have options. Last night, I had a sex dream about one of my current options, and well, it made me feel a lot better about my situation! Thank you, subconscious; keep up the good work! Anyway, I definitely need to commit to being single for a while simply because I need practice. What if my next boyfriend dies, and I need a proper mourning period instead of just pivoting to the next available stud? These are things we have to consider. The years of coping via company must end! Although, I would be remiss to point out that as someone who doesn’t drink, smoke, do drugs, use nicotine, drink a lot of caffeine, shop compulsively, gamble, or use the internet obsessively, I am not wrong for having one (1) unhealthy outlet, even if that outlet is other beautiful human beings who want me so bad. But just because it’s not wrong doesn’t mean I don’t need to work on it really bad (yes, Grammarly, I know it’s “badly.” Please stop trying to kill my personal voice). Actually wait, I forgot I was properly single during the month [Ex] and I broke up last time, but I am not sure that counts because I think I was more sure that we would get back together than I admitted. This time… it’s a little different. Four months on different continents is going to put a lot of growth between us, and even then it’s more like eight months apart because I immediately go home for the summer and then go to [country I am studying abroad in]. Yeah, it’s not looking good, gang. Well, it’s not looking good for people who want us to get back together, and I’m not sure who that is! It’s looking great for people who want me to experience personal growth (basically everyone). So actually, it’s looking great, gang! Huzzah!

I am not excited about this semester all that much, but I am going to take this time to broaden my horizons in various areas. Work on my portfolio, maybe get a little more social, continue to grind at the gym constantly. Maybe learn an instrument. My dad has a keyboard that we got him from christmas last year; do you think he would notice if I stole it? Can Daniel (friend from my major) and I form a two person band that’s just drums and keyboard? Maybe. Anyway, I’m going to edit my blog theme until it’s time for lunch. Maybe I will also shower. My throat kind of hurts; we’ll see where that goes.

#diary #personal story #breakup #moving on #thoughts

[nony-bear]

Matched (Part IV)

This blog and ALL posts are for people 18 + ONLY.

I do not give permission for my works to be re-uploaded or copied in any way or form including translations.

Photo Found Here // Banner Made By Me

Dividers Found Here & Here

Parings: Alpha Bucky Barnes X Omega Reader

Warnings: ABO dynamics, gross alpha male behavior (not by Bucky), insecurities, slight medical talk, angst maybe?

Word Count: 2384

Summary: This is part four of the series Matched. The reader and Bucky begin participate in new tests and both have their second phone call. 

A/N: Part IV is officially here! There is something super exciting at the end of this chapter so I hope you’re all ready because I definitely am! I’m so excited that this story has been doing so well and progressing the way I’ve been dreaming about for ages! A super special thanks to @dadplease​ for beta reading this for me! If you don’t know Eun please go check her out she’s an amazing writer, and just an incredible human being! If anyone else is interested in beta reading for this series just let me know! Any likes and reblog or sharing of any kind would be greatly appreciated but as always this blog and all of its content is for people ages 18 and up and never do I ever give permission for my works to be re-uploaded or copied in any way or form including translations.

Series Masterlist

Part V

You groan as the phone rings loudly through your room, the sound echoing off the walls and making it impossible even to try to ignore it and return to your blissful sleep.

Rolling over, you shove your head under the pillow, trying to block it out, wondering what would happen if you simply didn’t answer or participate in today’s agenda. After last night’s call, you aren’t feeling particularly motivated, and regardless of the current circumstances, you’ve always been more of a night owl anyway.

After a few more seconds, you realize the ringing isn’t going to stop. Groaning again, you reach for the button blindly, refusing to open your eyes. Somehow you find it, hitting it a tad aggressively.

“Hi, Y/n! This is Luke! It's 8 am, so this is your wake-up call, and I will also be taking your breakfast order!” the overly chipper man sings over the phone.

“Good morning,” you yawn, not even being able to pretend to be half as awake as he is.

You order your breakfast, which Luke tells you will arrive soon with your itinerary, before you begrudgingly pull yourself out of bed.

Deciding to shower and freshen up for the day, you put some clean and comfortable clothes to wear, unsure what the day will exactly hold. If it is anything like yesterday, I won’t have to worry about looking presentable for anyone, you think to yourself.

As you shower, you let the hot water run down your back to keep you relaxed. Yet, you still can’t help but let your mind dwell on last night. The shock still floats in your thoughts as you recall the way Ben spoke and acted. You didn’t think they would let people like that into the program, and it’s waivered your confidence. Not that you were all that confident to begin with, but you were at least hopeful. However, now you’re just grateful for that satisfaction money-back guarantee the program promised.

After finishing up in the shower and redressing, you are sitting in the chair in your room and scrolling through your phone when there is a knock at the door. You’re internally thankful for the food’s arrival but also unable to help your curiosity about today’s activities.

When you open the door there is a tray left on the floor with your food and an envelope labeled Saturday.

Shuffling the food around his plate with his fork Bucky sighs as he waits for Steve to answer the phone. The punk basically had a heart attack this morning when he realized Bucky never called to check in with him last night.

“Buck?!” Steve says loudly as soon as he answers.

“I’m alright, I’m alright,” Bucky sighs and rolls his eyes.

Steve audibly sighs in relief. “What the hell, you were supposed to call me last night?”

“Hey- language, Steve,” Bucky chuckles, not being able to stop himself from teasing his best friend.

“Oh, shut it, Buck. You’re lucky I’m not there to kick your ass.”

Scoffing, Bucky laughs louder. “Whatever, punk. Look, I’m calling you now. Are you happy or what?”

“Well, how are things going? Everything seems- you know… okay?” Steve asks warily.

Bucky shrugs before he realizes that Steve can’t see him. “Yeah… the room they’ve got me set up in is nice. Everything seems like it checks out, nothing to be worried about.”

“Have you met anyone yet?” Steve asks curiously.

“Only one, but I didn’t get to see her- we talked on the phone. She seemed nice enough but nothing more,” Bucky tells him truthfully. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just too far out of practice.”

“Nah, Buck, you’ll figure it out. I’m rooting for you.”

“Thanks, pal.” Bucky smiles, and he appreciates Steve’s confidence but is now worried about letting him down. Getting Steve all worked up just for Bucky to return empty-handed? Sure Steve would understand, but Bucky would be left with a pang of weird heavy guilt knowing he worried Steve for nothing.

Once Bucky is able to get the only other 100-year-old super soldier he knows off the phone, he searches for his itinerary, preparing himself for whatever today shall bring.

FRIDAY ITINERARY

10:00 am: Event #1 - Laboratory Scent Matching

Participants will be individually escorted down by a program assistant to a laboratory testing pod. Once in the pod, each participant will find ten scent samples. Some samples have been collected from other participants, and others are from past participants to establish a baseline of data. When the participant presses the red button by their door, a program assistant will escort them back to their room.

11:30 am: Survey

After opening and testing each sample, participants will rank each sample via the survey they will receive in the email that they provided on their application forms. This survey must be completed, or the participant will be removed from the program. This survey aims to gauge scent compatibility and potential matches. This is only one of the data points used in the final matching calculation.

12:00 pm: Lunch

3:30 pm: Event #2 - Attraction Testing & Survey

Participants will remain in their rooms. Each participant will be sent a survey to the email they provided on their application forms. In this survey, participants will find cropped images of various facial features. The photos used are not of participants but have been chosen based on similarities to participants. This survey must be completed, or the participant will be removed from the program. This survey aims to gauge the possible physical attraction levels between participants. This is only one of the data points used in the final matching calculation.

6:30 pm: Event #3 - Pairing Call #2

Participants will remain in their rooms. Once all participants are served dinner, the phones in their rooms will ring. Participants will be connected to another participant on the line. Pairings are made based on the data collected on intake forms regarding designation, designation of interest, personality, values, interests, and hobbies. Participants will not be able to see one another and may choose to reveal any information they would like. Consider this a true “blind” date over your provided dinner. Participants are welcome to remain on the line until 10:00 pm.

10:15 pm: Survey

After participants have finished their pairing calls, they will be sent a survey to the email they provided on their application forms. This survey must be completed, or the participant will be removed from the program. This survey aims to gauge the success of the call and whether the pairing is a potential match. This is only one of the data points used in the final matching calculation.

End Of Itinerary - Participants may enjoy free time in their rooms.

“Looks like it’s going to be a long day….” Bucky mutters to himself before sighing and heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Anxiously, you wait at your door. It’s precisely 10 am, and your curiosity and nerves have gotten the best of you already as you feel as though you have been waiting for a lifetime.

Finally, there is a knock at the door, and you swing it open without hesitation. Luke, your only form of consistency in this whole endeavor is waiting for you.

“Hi! Are you ready?” he asks, smiling when he sees you so excited and obviously having been waiting for him.

“Yes! Thank you!”

The two of you make small talk about how you’ve settled in, but you choose to leave out the details of your awful first call to save yourself from embarrassment.

Eventually, one set of stairs and a few hallways later, you enter the facility’s more medical and laboratory-looking area through two large clinical-looking doors.

“Don’t worry- I know it looks a little scary, but it’s just set up this way in case we’d have a scent leak or something,” Luke says as the omega to omega senses you both share tell him you’re nervous.

Finding the right pod, Luke tells you to head in and hit the red button once you’re done, assuring you he’ll be there as soon as you need him. Again, you thank him for being so kind and helpful before going inside.

The pod is a small room that is more akin to a closet. There is a small desk with a nice comfortable chair, and on the table lies some scrap paper, a pencil, and ten small pill bottle-sized containers filled with some sort of translucent liquid, the thickness of corn syrup, and just barely tinted blue, inside them.

You walk over and sit down in the chair, studying all the samples and looking for any noticeable differences besides the labels numbering each one. Then, picking one up, you bring it closer to your nose and realize you can’t smell anything, noting that the containers must have some form of odor protectant to prevent the scents from mixing too much.

One by one, you take your time opening each individual container and taking in the scent of the mystery liquid inside. Each scent is different from the others, some sweet, some musky, some smokey, and so on, some even having a pleasant mix of the bunch.

Knowing you will have to rank them shortly, you try to determine what order they will fall. You quickly determine which ones to put very first and very last. And after deciding on the remainder of your lineup, you pull out your phone to complete the survey.

Before you hit the red button at the bottom of the page, you look down at the container labeled with the number eight again and unashamedly reach for it. Opening it, you take one last smell of the alluring scent reminding you of something musky mixed with sandalwood and the occasional note of some sort of clean herbal scent you can’t quite put your finger on as well- It can’t be eucalyptus- maybe pine? No, it’s quite that strong, You think to yourself. But, whatever it may be, the scent stirs something familiar within your heart. Despite being unable to recall why or how you know this scent, all you know is that you’d be quite happy smelling it for the rest of your life, in your home and your nest, on your skin; you could settle into it quite nicely.

Attraction Testing. Bucky reads over the description curiously, nose still overwhelmed from the amount of scenting he did today. The concept seemed strange to him, unable to imagine any of the girls he had dated back in the 40s. He wonders if he had a “type” or a feature he was particularly drawn to.

“Think, Bucky, what do you like?” he mumbles to himself, trying to imagine his “ideal” partner. Too many features flash through his mind to determine which ones he prefers. They are all so different, and he finds himself loving the beauty in that alone.

As he thinks, his phone dings indicating the attraction testing and survey have arrived. He sighs wearily and picks up his phone to open the message.

Bucky reads over his answer several times before submitting it, the statement seeming dumb but the truth nevertheless. He honestly was at a loss of how to narrow down all the things he found attractive in one person. Since being rehabilitated and seeing the state of the world, he was astounded by the diversity of people he saw and the beauty behind it all. Bucky never said it out loud, knowing it would be the butt of the joke for months around the compound, but he truly felt like everyone was beautiful. So besides the hopes of some pretty eyes to stare into and soft skin to hold gently, he didn’t really care what his match looked like. But he did hope they liked him- scars and all, he shudders internally before deciding to leave that bridge to cross once he gets there.  

After hitting the submit button, Bucky begins to click through the slides of photographs, rating preference levels on a scale from 1 to 10. The whole thing makes him feel a little uneasy, but he completes the entire survey regardless.

Once he is done, he tosses his phone down onto the bed next to him with a large sigh. Laying on his back and looking up at the ceiling, he calculates that there are now less than three hours until his next call. With the data the programmers have collected from his last call, the scenting test, and this attraction test, he hopes this call will go better than the first. He hates to admit it, but without Steve, Sam, and the rest of the crew popping up randomly to bug him, staying in the suite has started to feel a little lonely.

You pace back and forth in your suite. This call has to go better, right? You ask yourself as you walk. I mean, it can’t get much worse… you try to reason.

After the scenting and attraction testing today, the hopelessness of your last call stopped weighing so heavily on your shoulders. Of course, you are still nervous, but you realize one stupid jerk isn’t worth throwing this opportunity away. You came here looking for a mate, a true mate, someone you would love unconditionally, someone who would love you unconditionally as well, someone you would be able to spend the rest of your life with. You hoped more than anything that that person was here.

The clock ticks continuously as you ignore your food for the phone and count down like the ticks. Any second now.

And then it rings.

You watch it for a moment, suddenly realizing that maybe you don’t want to know what’s waiting for you on the other side.

It rings again and again, and you know you need to pick it up before the line disconnects.

Reaching out, your hands shake as you slowly pick up the phone. Raising it to your ear, you take a deep breath. “Hello?”

“Uhm- hi… I’m Bucky.”

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[hansolmates]

remote learning (m)

summary; working remote sucks, and you would love a little relief. after buying a new toy to blow off some steam, you’re baffled when you can’t cum. however, jungkook thinks you’re doing it wrong, and shows you a thing or two. pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, slightly insecure mc, this is pure FILTH—use of a remote controlled vibrator, do not and i repeat DO NOT try foreplay during a zoom call in the event u get fired im not responsible, phone sex, jungkook’s a meanie in control, cum eating, doggy, and topping it off with some sweet missionary bc jk has purty eyes, unprotected (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 5.7k a/n; this fic manifested bc of work. and i!! am!! frustrated!! i think we all need a lil jk relief so here it goes! as always ty to @chillingtae​ / @eerieedits​ for this FANTASTIC fic banner, please go check vivi out if u have taste okok part 2: distance learning drabbles; 01

if u like this fic pls consider giving it a like and a share💕💕💕💕

“Tomorrow morning, same time at 9AM. Remember to have your reports alphabetized and itemized,” your supervisor says, but the only thing you can focus on is the abnormal amount of bonsai plants in his living room. 

“Alright now it’s time for the union to talk COVID protocol,” you frown when Mr. Kim moves ownership of the Zoom call to your union rep, who pulls up a Powerpoint. You feel your eyes burn at the sight: an itinerary containing over thirty-eight slides. 

“For fuck’s sake—” 

You so desperately want to turn off the camera and flop in your bed. Since working remotely you haven’t been operating in the most ideal of workspaces. You live in a one-room apartment with a communal kitchen downstairs, so you really only have four square meters to stretch your limbs around between breaks. You’ve pushed your bed aside and shoved an office chair between the bed and the wall, leaving you to squirm between ten centimeters of space. You have no desk because well, the little rectangle space is prioritized for your portable stove and meals. 

The meeting drones on for another hour, until your brain melts to liquid and your limbs feel like Jell-O. Furthering your anxiety as they talk about protocol that never ends up happening, delays that continue to pile up, and the anger that’s been bubbling between the higher ups and little goldfish employees like you. 

When you finally shut off the camera and fling your laptop under the bed, you still feel unsettled. Probably because your work life and home life have merged together, and it’s hard for you to separate work and pleasure. 

Speaking of pleasure. 

Your hand blindly reaches under your bed, looking for the pretty pink oval you purchased last week. Cleaned and ready to use, the little remote-controlled vibrator sits plainly in your palm. 

Needless to stay you’ve been in a bit of a dry spot these past few months. With a fear to go out and meet someone new, you’ve been left with yourself and your fantasies. That’s fine, but lately your old vibrator isn’t cutting it. It’s unfortunate, you think you’re messing up your libido by buying toy after toy, but you’re horny and lonely. 

Linking your phone’s app to the remote, you ignore the messages that have been beeping your feed since early morning. 

[11:21] Jeon: let’s do lunch! 

[11:23] Jeon: hehe i feel like i belong in mean girls. Do lunch💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️

[2:20] Jeon: u loozer. Come eat dinner with us upstairs @6

[2:24] Jeon: dropping off a snack for u 

Another element of feeling horny and lonely? Jeon Jungkook. 

You two shouldn’t have even met each other. You live off crumbs on the first floor while he and his roommates are livin’ it up on top in the penthouse. One day a few months ago he crashed into you while working out, having run up and down the whole flight of stairs at least three times before deciding to collapse on you between the second and first floor. 

Despite the black mask that hugged his sharp jawline, you had felt nothing but attractiveness ooze off of him. Under his hoodie was nothing but curved muscle. He smelled so soft and sweet despite the fact that he was damp with sweat. 

The rest is history. After that day he seemed to show up everywhere, jogging more prominently on your floor and doing exercises at your level’s gym. He says he likes you, likes your company. He’s wormed his way intermittently, whether he’s seeing you struggle with an armful of groceries or when he hears you screaming over an Among Us match (according to Jungkook, the walls are thinner on the bottom floors.) 

The idea of Jungkook doting on you doubly frustrates you. He seemingly appears as the perfect man, unaffected by the stresses of the world. Jungkook’s job lets him work from home anyway, and he definitely had enough room in the penthouse for his own office. He works out, probably has a girlfriend and enough friends for you to gradually phase out of this weird neighbor interest. 

So you ignore his seemingly harmless messages, focusing on getting the settings right on the vibrator. You feel your pussy jolt a little in excitement, watching the silver and pearl pink oval shake in your grasp. You smile a bit to yourself, immediately finding your iPad for your favorite videos and some pillows to support your back. 

Half an hour later however, that excitement soon goes sour. 

“Fuck,” you bite your lip, frustrated tears streaming down your face, “fuck fuck fuck!” 

This isn’t a set of explicatives out of pleasure, unfortunately. 

No matter what you do, you won’t cum. You can’t cum. Barely wet, hardly a drop glossing your folds. You don’t even want to bother getting out the lube at this point because you are so disappointed. 

The vibrator is going at the highest setting, one that your neighbors can probably hear if they were home at this time of the day. You cease to care at this point, because the job is undone because you haven’t come undone. 

You don’t know why this is happening. Maybe it’s because you’ve had the liberty to touch yourself in complete silence, now that your neighbors have been confined to their homes indefinitely. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since you’ve relied only on your touch, that your body is tired of the monotony and needs more.

You bang the heels of your feet against your flimsy mattress, feeling whiny and utterly dissatisfied. Pulling the vibrator from your clit, you glare at the infuriating toy.

“You’re supposed to be helping me out of my dry spell,” you chastise, throwing the toy across the bed, sliding onto the carpet, “I get you’re not Jeon’s dick, but you gotta help a sister out.” 

With a sigh, you fall into a bout of exhaustion. Not from a round of orgasms, but from the week’s stress and no way to let it out. 

You wake up bleary and disoriented, practically melding through the mattress. The sky is pink and blue, washed in a sea of corals and purples. It comes from the incessant banging. 

“Stop it,” you whine more to yourself than whoever dares to disturb your sleep, pulling up your panties and a pair of navy dolphin-trim shorts. “Whoever you are I’m comin’ so stop!” 

Swinging the door open in two strides you’re met with a chipper Jeon Jungkook; looking all cute and sweet in his big hoodie and smelling like a rosebud. 

“It’s 6:30,” he narrows his eyes playfully at you, “dinner’s in the oven.” 

“You left your oven on,” you deadpan, turning around to grimace at the mess that’s your one-room apartment. 

“Yes, so we have exactly ten minutes before my kitchen explodes in flames,” Jungkook chirps, closing the door behind you. 

You don’t even bother to tell him to excuse the mess, ignore the pile of bras hanging on your vanity and the unpacked groceries that sit at the edge of your mini-fridge. It’s far too late to salvage your dignity and Jungkook’s too damn polite to call you out on your state of slob. Although, as you pull out a bottle of wine tucked in the back of your fridge you blurt, “I can hear your fingers tingling to clean up my mess.” 

When you turn around Jungkook stuffs his hands in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, supposedly to stop himself from cleaning up. With a pout he says, “Can’t help it, Jimin says I’m currently manifesting a strong display of Virgo energy this month. Whatever that means.” 

Jabbing your feet in a pair of slides you follow Jungkook out the door. The hallways are quiet and barren, yet the silence isn’t suffocating as you two pile into the elevator. Jungkook opens the keypad underneath the regular boring buttons, revealing a sleek little set of light-up buttons that have the code to the penthouse. Faaaannnnccy. 

“Tryna look?” he jokes, cupping his hands to block your vision. 

You scoff, “I’m sure it’s something easy like 0000.” 

“You’re wrong. It’s 1234,” he replies cheekily. 

The door dings open and you’re met with yet another door. Jungkook presses his thumb to the biometric scanner, and a pleasant ringer tings in response. 

The penthouse smells like a mix of tonight’s dinner, savory, combined with a cinnamon apple candle. Jungkook is a fan of scented candles, ever since he got a whiff of your lavender vanilla burner. 

“Where’s Taehyung?” you ask, more out of your own anxiousness than anything. Taehyung’s  your buffer, the hyper roommate being someone to distract you from Jungkook’s incessant aura. 

“Dunno,” he shrugs, flicking on the oven light to peer inside. You see the telltale signs of a mean lasagna, the shredded cheese on top crisping to a delicious-looking golden brown, “anyway, you’re my friend first.” 

As grotesque as it sounds, Jungkook always finds his way to worm his way under your skin and find homage there. “Possessive much?” you quirk a brow, folding your arms over your chest even though there’s nothing to hide. 

“What can I say,” Jungkook’s legs stretch out as he squats down to your level, “I really fell for you.” 

“Gross,” you try to convince yourself, ignoring the thudding in your chest, “you technically fell on me, weirdo.” 

Dinner is a quick affair. He cuts slices of lasagna and brings it to the couch, where you’re pouring glasses of wine in crystal glasses. They’re so clean and shiny you can see your reflection in the gold liquid. You grimace at the bottle, normally this would be poured in a mug or your sippy cup, tonight your liquid’s getting a high-end pour. 

You two pull up an old anime to fill up the room, but most of it is spent in playful banter. Jungkook prattles on about his day, showing you all the cool updates he’s achieved during work. An app developer. A very on-brand, lucrative job for him. You love your job but it isn’t nearly as exciting as Jungkook’s, so you just let yourself be supportive and ask questions when needed. 

When the subject of you comes up, you shake your head and stuff your face with another cut of al dente pasta.

“Not interestin’ Jeon,” you mumble, groaning at how delicious his cooking is. What can’t he do? “Is this oregano? Is the secret ingredient toasted oregano—” 

“You’re deflecting.” 

Your shoulders slump, “I’m not very interesting, I tell you everything I do during the week and nothing has changed since March.” 

“Oh, not everything,” Jungkook mutters under his breath. You furrow your brows as his hands stuff themselves in his hoodie pocket. Is he upset you won’t tell him about your work stress? “And you’re very interesting, I’ll have you know.” 

“Yeah?” a small smile tugs on your lips. You sink further into his cottonball of a couch, feeling utterly soft and meldable at his words.

“Very,” Jungkook gets up from the couch, looking down at you, “want something sweet?” 

The prospect of dessert has you excited. Jungkook really is the perfect man, so kind and knows exactly when you’re craving something for your sweet tooth. You move to get up, only for you to sink further between the two large cushions of the loveseat. “Help me, ’m stuck,” you pout.

Jungkook giggles, and holds out his palm, “Hand,” he says simply.

You immediately reach for his larger palm, and you gasp when you feel something cold and soft touch your palm. As if you’ve been burned, you tug your hand back. But Jungkook’s hand is massive, the large ink-painted palm curling around your own, and it’s almost painful the way he clutches your hand so fiercely. 

When he’s sure you’re not going to drop it, he releases your hand. 

Nestled in your palm, is the new vibrator you left on the carpet this afternoon.

“Jeon,” you laugh tonelessly, hating the way Jungkook’s neutral expression mocks you, “you found my USB? Thanks, I know—” 

“Know that you’re having a hard time coming?” Carefully extracting your plate from your lap, he places it on the coffee table before Jungkook cages you between the couch. You shrink further into the plush seat, “I tried being a good neighbor, but you didn’t answer my texts. I heard you when I tried dropping off some snacks before dinner. Didn’t know you were into toys.” 

“Oh, c’mon Jeon. It’s 2020 and we’re confined,” well, in this scenario you’re confined, “everyone has a sex toy.” 

“Hm, I don’t have one,” Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, pretending to be deep in thought, “so, can you be my toy?” 

Fuck. 

It’s then that you feel the tell-tale signs of arousal. Your eyes widen, innocently surprised at the fact that Jeon Jungkook contained so much power in so few words. You snap your legs shut immediately, sealing any possibility of you dripping down your panties. 

“I heard how disappointed you were, doll,” his arms have no problems as he bends down so he’s eye-level with your crotch, “it was pathetic, really. You couldn’t even cum on your own? You need someone to help you?” 

“N-no,” you cross your arms defensively, frowning, “you–you’re being mean, Jeon.”

“And what, you’re gonna cry about it?” Jungkook smirks, now sitting on his knees. His hands run over the velvety fabric of the couch, making a beeline for your thighs. Gooseflesh rises to the surface, and he immediately presses down to iron out the little bumps that travel across your skin, “I do wanna make you cry, but not because you can’t cum. You’ll cry because of how good I’m gonna make you feel.” 

You gape, clutching the vibrator in your hand. 

A little bit of your sweet, cute Jungkook resurfaces, softening when he notices your lack of response, “If you’ll let me, of course.” 

You finally drag the words from your throat, “I-it’s been a long time since I’ve… been with someone.” 

He tilts his head, “Same here. I just figured we could break that spell together.” 

What are you going to say? No? A dishonor to your sexuality, that would be. Jungkook’s offering himself up on a silver platter, and even though you do wish it was a little more you’ll take the sex. 

You nod, forgetting to speak again. Jungkook chuckles. 

“I want to hear you say it, doll.” 

Doll. Like you’re his little fucktoy, malleable and bendable to all his whims. Fuck, why is that so hot to you? “Yes, I want to have sex with you,” you declare, your voice sounding more breathy than confident, “a-and, you can be mean. If you want.” 

His thumbs press little light indents in your skin, over and over as if fascinated by the way your skin is so soft and gummy in his grip. “Okay,” Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to pull out his phone, jabbing a few things that you don’t see, “let’s do a little test drive, then.” 

In seconds, the little egg vibrates in your touch. He puts it on the lowest setting, a soft buzz echoing in the large living room, then at a bruising pace that forces you to curl your fingers around it otherwise it’d fall. Your eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s, who’s focusing entirely on the way the pink and silver egg moves, dilated in interest. 

“Fuck, and you thought this thing was broken?” he asks, taking it out of your palm and turning off the app. 

“Maybe I’m the broken one,” you admit softly, wringing your shirt. 

Silence seeps. Jungkook looks at you, brows furrowed as if he’s annoyed. “Don’t ever say that,” when you don’t respond, he grabs your chin, and you gasp when he forces you to look at him, “you’re not broken, doll. Everyone’s body is different, and we’re going to discover yours together. Got it?” 

“Y-yes,” you reply immediately, mesmerized by his seriousness. 

“Good,” he slaps the vibrator back in your palm, “and in case you’re wondering, this goes inside.” 

“I know how it works,” you scowl, “but won’t you show me, just in case?” 

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Jungkook gets up for good, piling the dishes in his arms and walking to the sink. You immediately miss his warmth, “but I think patience is a virtue. I have a developer meeting with some clients in America a little bit, actually. So just wait for my call, yeah?” 

You frown, looking down at the vibrator in your hands. How much longer would you have to wait? 

It happens at exactly three in the afternoon the next day, at the start of your staff meeting. You’re so tired of the same information being thrown back and forth, coupled with Brian and Jae having to fight over some mundane subject in the itinerary that no one cares about. For goodness sake, it’s Friday! What else would you possibly need to be meeting about? 

You’re wearing a button-down dress shirt on top, no pants on the bottom. Your bare feet slap against the hardwood floor, antsy. It’s been a long day at work and your back hurts, you’re half tempted to dip out of this meeting and hope no one notices. 

Your phone buzzes on your bed, and you blanch. 

[3:01] Jeon: thanks for waiting, doll. It’s time 

[3:01] Jeon: put it in

Shamelessly, your vibrator sits next to your phone, cleaned and ready to go. 

[3:02] Jeon: need help? Answer my call

Making sure that your Zoom call is muted, you quickly answer the incoming phone call. Jungkook and you say nothing at first, waiting. The phone just ticks with the amount of time passing, one minute, two minutes, and so on. 

Mr. Kim drones unknowingly, “So when we do return to live instruction, expect a strict process when returning. PPE must be enforced so our response team will—” 

“How wet were you last night when you went home?” Jungkook asks languidly, speaking over your boss’ voice. 

Your eyes widen, flickering back and forth between the phone and the camera displaying Mr. Kim’s boring speech. 

“Doll, are you hard of hearing?” 

“N-no,” your lips barely move, eyes glued to the camera and plastering an expressionless face, “I heard you.” 

“Then give me an answer,” he says patiently, “how wet were you?” 

“Very wet.”

“Little more detail.” 

“Soaking wet,” you flush, thankful that your work laptop can only stream in 360p. “I haven’t gotten that wet in such—such a long time. My pussy was practically clinging to my underwear when I washed up that night.” 

A heady, heavy groan resonates through your phone. You feel that voice straight into your panties, jolting the nerves awake. 

“Fuck, you have a way with words, don’t you?” Jungkook chuckles breathlessly, “c’mon, touch yourself for me. Swirl your fingers around your clit, slowly.” 

It takes a second for you to position yourself, spreading your legs in a way that your coworkers don’t question why you’re moving so much. A quick scan over all the tired faces says that you’re okay. Shyly, you press your fingers against your clit, doing as he says. 

“Oh,” you say more to yourself than him, feeling the wetness already coating your fingers. This is earlier than usual. 

“What?” 

“I’m already wet,” you say, amazed, “I haven’t gotten wet this quickly in a long time.” 

He scoffs, “If you’re so wet now, shove it in.” 

You frown. You did tell him to be mean. But the idea of him telling you what to do, giving you all the porn-worthy experiences to accomplish has you relenting. Discreetly grabbing the egg from the bed, you bring it down to your panties. Swirling the cold metal around your clit, you coat it in your juices. 

It’s still a little too early to be putting anything in, but you can take it. Slowly relaxing, you slip the little egg in your pussy, wiggling it a little to make sure it’s secure. It’s a strange sort of pressure, and it pokes against your clit from the inside, but you enjoy the stretch. 

“It’s in,” you reply softly. 

“Good.” 

You wait. You listen to Jae make yet another speech about the importance of masks and gloves, and then Brian has to interject and say that gloves are literally useless because they spread germs around no matter what. Even though everyone else is muted, you can practically feel the misery seeping through the screen. For a second you almost forget about Jungkook on the line. Why isn’t Mr. Kim stopping them? This is the thin line stopping you from the weekend, unbelievable! 

“Eep!” you jolt in your cheap seat, the egg buzzing in your pussy. Your hands fly out, gripping the edges of your computer. 

It hits different when Jungkook is in control. Knowing that with a flick of his thumb he can have you careening, whining for more or less depending on how hard he wants you go. Your folds hug the egg, nestling it a fleshy grip as it brushes against your clit the more you squirm. 

“You look so pretty, trying so hard to hold in your moans,” Jungkook says wondrously from the other line. 

“W-what?” you frown, “you can see me?” 

And immediately, you go to your trackpad to fish between the hundred-and-one employees also in this call. At the very end, you see a very simple name with no mic or camera: Jeon JK. He’s here. 

“Worked in IT, doll. Know a thing or two,” he says, “now, tell me. What are you thinking about right now?” 

“Y-you,” you mumble shyly. 

“So,” Mr. Kim finally ends that part of the meeting, thank goodness, “what’s everyone’s plans this weekend? I’m going apple picking with a couple of my friends from college. Hoseok is a bright bean who loves to take long walks—”

What the hell. You squirm uncomfortably in your seat, hyperaware that Jungkook’s watching your every move. You make glossy, stubborn eyes at the camera, trying not to move when he jacks up the vibrator to a higher setting. 

Jae’s of course the next employee to unmute his microphone, “Well, me and the bae are going house hunting…” 

“Fuck!” you cry, moving the computer to the left so you can pretend you’re picking up something. But in fact you're leaning your head against your mattress, frustrated. “I don’t fucking care about your weekend plans, Jae! Shut the fuck up! You wanna know my weekend plans?” Jungkook’s laughing at you from the other line, but it only spurs you on, “my plans are fucking my super hot neighbor! He’s a hundred times more interesting than you and he’s going to make me come a hundred times this weekend—oh fuck!” 

Your fingers latch onto your panties, drawing random squiggles and letters between the fabric. You’re damp, soaked to the core. You need some sort of friction, a reprieve from this hellish week.

“You flatter me, doll,” Jungkook is definitely grinning through the phone, you can practically hear his shit-eating grin, “I think you deserve a reward. As soon as you put the camera back on your pretty face.” 

Quickly, you sit up to put the camera on you again. Once again, the employees are in a daze, listening to whatever the next person gabs about their weekend. Even though you can’t really see it, you’re sure Jungkook has a 1080p camera upstairs that shows off your blotchy face. You moan a little bit, lips closed as the egg buzzes against your pussy lips. 

“You’re so cute, doll,” Jungkook praises, “you look so professional, holding it in. What could I do to make you unravel? Hm, what if you imagined the taste of my cock on your lips? Fuck, I’d love to slap your cute little face with my cock, baby doll–”

“y/n?” Mr. Kim calls your name, and you freeze, “what about you? Any plans this weekend?” 

Jungkook doesn’t sound angry that your boss has inadvertently cut him off. “Answer him, doll. Be a good little employee.” 

Like a zombie, you move towards the unmute button. “I–I uh,” you shake your head, trying to formulate a coherent response, “I’m going on a date this weekend.” 

Jungkook jacks up the vibrator to high, and your legs are shaking. 

“Awh, a date!” Mr. Park unmutes himself, practically shoving the camera in his face, “how much do you like the lucky lad or lady?” 

“I like him uh—ah—” you pretend to think, covering a hand over your mouth to hide the fact that you feel your orgasm fast approaching, “I like him a lot!” you finally blurt, “I’m, uh, really excited to see him.” 

“Best of luck to you,” Mr. Kim says brightly, “so Jimin, any news on those investors you had dinner with this weekend? I heard a lot of positive things…”

You immediately mute your mic, and pretend to lag as you fumble around with the camera. Shoving the laptop to the side once more you groan into your sheets, “Fuck—fuck yes—” you moan, shaking your head as you dip your fingers into your panties. The vibrator still continues at its bruising pace, spurring you to a high you haven’t peaked to in months.

“Good job,” Jungkook says simply, “could barely notice that you have a little helper fiddling around your dripping pussy.”

“J-Jeon,” you cry, “I’m, ’m gonna cum.” 

“Yeah?” Jungkook eggs you on, “you’re gonna cum around that cute little vibrator? Gonna soak it in your juices?” 

“W-wish it was your cock I was soaking,” you whisper truthfully, letting your orgasm take you at the thought. Your folds flutter around the vibrator, bringing you to a level of sensitivity you’ve only dreamt of, “Ah, yes, Jeon. It feels s-so good!” 

“Yes baby,” Jungkook groans through the line, “feels good, huh?” 

Mr. Kim interrupts for the last time, “And with that, I think our meeting is adjourned. Have a wonderful weekend! Stay safe and—” 

You slam the laptop shut, grabbing your phone and keys. “I’m going up,” you mutter impatiently, already jabbing your feet in a pair of slippers and locking the door to your apartment behind you. 

“I’m waiting,” he replies, eagerness trimming his voice. 

“Password?” you ask quickly, jabbing the elevator door shut once you step inside. Thank goodness you’re alone, you think as you pull your dress shirt further down your ass. 

“Did you forget already?” he teases, “I told you, it’s 1234.” 

Thankfully, the doors zip you up straight to the penthouse. The connection is always a little spotty in elevators, and you sigh longingly when you feel the buzz jolt and leave it’s momentum, quickly losing its rhythm between your dripping folds. Once you get to the top and the elevator doors open the second door immediately swings open, revealing a soft but aroused-looking Jungkook. He looks fresh from the shower, absolutely radiant and delicious looking. 

You don’t hesitate to run up to him, and Jungkook immediately cups his face in your hands, pressing his lips to yours. 

You’re practically on your tippy-toes, and you squeak against his lips when he hooks his arms around your shoulders, immediately lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his trim waist, not wanting to stop kissing him. He’s like the sweetest ambrosia, a taste you can’t get enough of. 

The connection to your vibrator has resumed, and you can’t help but grind helplessly under Jungkook’s clothed abs as he carries the both of you to his bedroom.

“N-need you to fuck me,” you bury your head in the crook of his neck, pressing quick kisses to his jawline, “I want you s-so badly.” 

“Hello to you too,” he husks, shutting the bedroom door with his foot. 

Jungkook drops you unceremoniously, and your limbs splay out on the fresh bedsheets of his feather-soft mattress.

“You look gorgeous like this, doll.” he sighs longingly, a hand going under your buttondown to press against your soaked panties. His hand lingers on the way your pussy moves in tandem with the vibrator. 

“J-Jeon please I can’t take it—” 

“Stop calling me that,” he snaps, hands leaving your skin.

You whine at the loss of contact, “Jeon, no. Jungkook. Kook, my Kook. Please, I need you.” 

That gets him going. His pretty chocolate brown eyes zero in on you, and he immediately shucks off his shirt and sweatpants, “How much do you need me?” he asks, pulling out his phone and pressing some buttons, “how much do you need your Kook?” 

The vibrator stops. You cry out in frustration, unsure if it’s because it’s off or because Jungkook’s taking too damn long. “I need you so much, Kook,” you warble with a pout, moving to undo the top buttons of your dress shirt to reveal your cleavage, “honey, you can have me all you want later today. I want you to slap my face with your dick, edge me until I cry, anything. I’m all yours, I’m your little doll. But please for now, I need to feel you inside me.” 

“Say no more,” his lips latch onto your neck, and you sigh at the skin-to-skin contact. His hand fiddles under your shirt, clutching a breast and slapping it so hard it bounces back and forth, “fuck, you’re so pretty.” 

His hand moves to your plain cotton panties, immediately shucking them off, “doll, you really are dripping,” he’s impressed, surprised when he has to untack the fabric from your glossy legs. He hangs the panties on his wooden headboard, a little ornament for him to jack off to later. 

His fingers brush over your folds, wasting no time to slip the vibrator out. He holds it between your faces, forcing you to stare at the pearly substance that coats the entirety of the egg. “Mm, tasty tasty,” he cooes, pink tongue darting out to lick a long strip across the oval. 

You tug him closer, pressing his lips to yours. He tastes a mixture of his own saliva and your arousal, and you grind helplessly against him. You feel how big his cock is, rock-hard and trying very diligently not to bust. He must have a crazy amount of control, and it drives you nuts. 

“Kook,” you frown, bumping your crotch with his.

“Impatient, good thing I am too,” he shucks off his boxers while you unbutton the rest of your shirt, “knees and hands, doll.” 

You don’t care how or what way he’ll take you. Fuck, he could bend you into an Auntie Anne’s pretzel and you’d comply. 

Arching your back so your ass is in the air, you wiggle around, hoping he’ll take the bait. That’s when you sigh, feeling the tip of his dick brush against your wetness.

“Soaking my cock already, baby,” he says, “you’re so good to me.” 

And finally, finally, he slips in. You don’t even care that it stretches you a little too far and too long, it’s been too damn long since you’ve had decent dick and Jungkooks far more than decent. 

He goes at a quick pace, finally showing how impatient he’s been all this time. Your moans and groans fill the room, a symphony of pleasure and pain as he stretches your walls to the brim. You hold a pillow to your chest, feeling woozy at the way his fat cock stretches you out. 

“F-fuck yeah,” the pace is hard, you practically feel it in your belly, and you love it. “You feel so fucking tight, baby,” he’s all up in your ear, kissing the lobe briefly, “I love the way you suck my cock back in.” 

“Kook,” you press your ass back, “harder, please. I’m your little doll, right? Y-you can fuck me however you want, as hard as you want! Please, ah—! Use me!” 

You cry out when he slips from your folds, immediately flipping you on your back. He wastes no time to wet his dick, lifting one leg over his shoulder to have you deeper. This position is far more intimate, and your noses are practically touching as he thrusts into you. 

You can’t believe you’re in bed with Jeon Jungkook. This must be a dream, a really great, really long wet dream. You crumble in his grip, and you lift a shaky hand to run through his thick black strands. 

“Why’d you make me wait so long?” you cry, staring right into his glittering eyes, “why couldn’t you come for me after your call last night?” 

“Why’d I make you wait?” he grits, crushing the flesh between your hip bones so he can have more leverage to pound into you, “why did you make me wait? Since March, I’ve wanted you. I told you I liked you, told you I fell for you.” 

“T-thought it was a joke,” you warble pathetically, breasts bouncing at his relentless rhythm.

“You think th-this is a joke?” for further emphasis, he glides slower, making you feel just how large and thick he is against your folds, “I want you, doll. Y-yeah, fu-fuck. Want to feed you every day, feed you lasagna, feed you with my cum, make you happy.” 

“I—I want that too, Kook,” you’re a pile of pink mush, and you feel your eyes prick from the overwhelming emotions that have washed over both of you. “Sh-shit, Kook. I think, I think I’m gon’ cum again.” 

“Good, you first,” his hand plays figure 8s with your precious pearl, seeping with arousal and coating his cock in delicious lubrication. 

It doesn’t take long for you to cum. You’re holding him as tight as you can, nails digging into his shoulders as you clench around his cock. Jungkook cums shortly after, and you keen at the sensitivity when his hot cum coats your walls. “Baby doll,” he exhales, thrusting lazily. The both of you feel your combined arousal drip between the two of you, onto your skin and onto his sheets, “y-you’re amazing.” 

His softened cock slips out of you, and his hands immediately reach over to swirl around the heady cream over your engorged pussy. You moan when he brings his fingers to your lips, “Open, doll.” 

It tastes salty yet sweet, and you suckle around his finger with a cute little pop. Jungkook grins brightly, feeling like he won the lottery. 

“Are my walls that thin?” you pout, pressing closer to him when he pulls the blankets to your chest. 

“Very,” Jungkook nods with a chuckle, tucking the two of you in, “now get some rest, doll. You presented a lot of offers to me earlier, and I intend to go through with them.” 

You smile into his chest, melty and feeling utterly sated. 

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #goldenclosetnet #bts smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook humor #bts fic #jungkook fic

[eideticmemory]

TWO GHOSTS IV | MATTHEW GUBLER

It’s been 15 years. 15 years has to be long enough . . . right? Read PART 3.

Set 15 years after the end of Ever Since New York, so give that a read first!

Word Count: 3.9k.

Warning: Usual angst, porn, and poor communication amongst characters.

SOUNDTRACK:

Love Affair - UMI

Debt - Eliza McLamb

Sometimes Sunshine - Seasalt

A nonstop flight, from New York City to Los Angeles, is three hours long. On a good day. And May 16 was supposed to be a good day. A great day. The best day of Matthew’s life. He tries not to think about it, not to reminisce too often. About the way he walked through the airport with a little jog, a little pep in his step. And the way he smiled through security, and constantly checked behind him as if you would magically appear. The roses he bought for you in a gift shop near the terminal.

See, a nonstop flight from New York City to Los Angeles is three hours long. On a good day. But Matthew wasn’t looking for three hours. He wasn’t asking you for a few hours of your time, or even a good day. He was asking you for a lifetime.

And that day, he had booked you two a connecting flight that totaled over six hours, with a two hour layover in Colorado. There was a little ice cream shop in the Denver airport, and they served blueberry ice cream. Matthew remembered it was your favorite, and saved just enough money to get your tickets and an entire pint. He couldn’t shake the thought of flying across the country with you, seeing a few small parts of it at a time. A few small parts at a time, until someday, you two had seen the whole world together.

He bought a blanket for you and, while waiting at the terminal, he sat it in the seat beside him, keeping it warm for when you would arrive. He had a little itinerary written in his notes app, and so far everything was going to plan. He had a bouquet of roses in his lap, and he killed time by looking up engagement rings online.

He didn’t start to worry until maybe, an hour, an hour and a half before the plane was set to depart. He called you, just to check in, and it went straight to voicemail. But he was still hopeful. There was very little that could destroy his peace that day. His hope. His happiness.

He tries not to think about it. The way the seconds inched by like a caterpillar moving across the limb of a tree. Slowly, painfully. The way his hope dwindled, and dwindled, and the insane amount of times he heard,

Hey, it’s [y/n]! Leave a message!

He can’t think about it anymore. The way he spents those six hours alone. Bawling his way through flight after flight, and eating a pint of blueberry ice cream by himself. He spent hours on his own. And weeks, months, hell, he spent years thinking that maybe, just maybe, you would find your way back to him.That the universe would magically correct itself.

And you’d come home.

Fifteen.

It took him fifteen years to find you again. It took fifteen years for the universe to bring you back together, and Matthew spent the first five thinking it was all some really shitty nightmare. It took him fifteen years to get close to you, to hear you say his name again, to get inside of you again.

And he managed to fuck it all up in a matter of twenty-four hours.

His body is paralyzed. His mind is moving a mile a minute, and he can’t take his eyes off the ceiling. His chest feels tight, like he can’t breathe properly. He knows he should not feel sorry for himself. That he, alone, is responsible for this wreck. But he can’t seem to shake it. He can’t seem to move.

“What the hell did I do?”

A knock at your door wakes you up. You don’t remember falling asleep, you don’t know how you were able to. But now, it’s all you want to do. You want to stay in the bed, in a state of unconsciousness and dreariness where you can’t remember your mistakes. But someone is knocking. Incessantly, loudly. And they won’t stop.

You roll out of bed, and drag your body across the floor. Zombie like, your shoulders are slouched, your eyes are hooded. Your feet shuffle along the floor like they’re weighted to the hardwood. Your footsteps are slow, hesitant. You don’t know what you’ll do if Matthew is on the other side of that door. You just . . . you don’t know. The very thought of it is making your stomach churn, and you suddenly feel very, very nauseous. The banging continues, and it’s as someone is using all their force. Like they’d break the door down if they could.

“[y/n]!”

You instantly relax at the sound of her voice. You speed up, hurry to the door, “[y/n] [y/l/n]! I know you can hear me! Open up!”

The door swings open and you catch her with her fist in the air, ready to strike the door once again. She’s pissed, doesn’t try to hide it, couldn’t hide it even if she tried.

“Good morning,” you rasp.

“It’s one in the afternoon,” she corrects you, pushing her way into your home.

“Please,” you say, shutting the door behind her. “Come on in.”

“Y’know,” Everest starts, clasping her hands in front of her as a wild look graces her face. “You’ve always been one of the good ones . . . hell, you’ve been . . . great, if that’s the word. You’re better than the others. The ones that really write my checks. But, um, you’re testing me, [y/n].”

You don’t even have to ask.

“Now, if there’s is some magical relationship blooming, or a monumental disaster about to strike, then you need to tell me now, so I can fix it. I’m a fixer, you know, that’s what I do. So, why are you making this so hard for me?”

“If it . . .” you clear your throat, cross your arms as you stare at her feet. “If it makes you feel any better, um, this is hard for me, too.” You attempt to joke. But you just sound sad.

“Yeah?” she raises her eyebrows. “So hard that you come out of his hotel in tears? And what the hell were you doing over there anyway? Was there a plan? Did he call you to come over?”

“I don’t see how any of this matters.”

“It matters because I woke up at seven in the morning — on a saturday — to all sorts of choas and speculation, and picture evidence of you doing exactly what I told you not to do!”

“Yeah, well, I’m a idiot. Don’t worry, that’s been established.”

“The internet is undefeated. Okay? People are . . . great at making up stories, making assumptions. And as your publicist, I need to know the whole story, the real story, before it gets twisted even further.”

You sigh, and walk over to the couch. As you sit down, you pull a pillow into your lap for just a little bit of comfort. “What do you mean the whole story?”

“Wrong choice of words,” Everest says. “The important parts of the whole story. Like are you dating him? Are you fucking him? If so, how long has this been going on?”

You can’t make eye contact as you speak, “I . . . fucked . . . him . . . a few times, a long time ago . . .”

She nods. She motions at you to continue, “. . . And?”

“And . . .” you breathe out. “I fucked him, again. Recently.”

“Last night? At the hotel?”

“Last night . . . not at the hotel.”

“Sooo, when? — Oh, my God,” she lowers her eyebrows at you, purses her lips. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did,” you nod. It’s a shameful nod. “You know they say there’s no sex like sex in a dressing room.”

“They also say polka dots are making a comeback, you believe everything you hear?”

“Sorry.”

“So you fuck him in the dressing room, and?”

“And . . . we go our seperate ways . . . again. And, then I realize that’s a lot easier said then done, so I . . . I go for him. I go for him . . .” Everest can hear the way your voice is cracking, the way the weight on your shoulder is slowly pushing the air out of your lungs. “And, uh,” you clear your throat. “Yeah. Yeah, it didn’t work out. Hence the . . . photos of me crying, I guess.”

“Mm,” she nods, crosses her arms. “And the other girl?”

You freeze, cut your head up at her. “What other girl?”

“What do you mean? The girls that came out right behind you. Same sad face? Kinda got a Natalie Portman look to her?”

“I . . .” you shake your head. “I didn’t know she came out after me, I must have left by then.”

“Who is she?”

You give her a shrug, “I don’t know.”

“His girlfriend?”

You huff, “Guess so.”

“Ah, so, some people online actually got it right. Huh, look at that.”

“Look, if the point of all of this is to keep me away from him, you can stop now. I don’t plan on seeing him ever again.”

The doorbell rings, as if on queue, and Everest instantly gives you a look. “What?” you ask. “I don’t know who it is. Your guess is as good as mine.”

She scoffs at you, and turns around, marching towards the door with a certain determination. She pulls it open, and immediately puts her hand on her hip. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Oh,” Matthew gasps. “Uh, oh . . . fuck . . . sorry, I must — I must have the wrong house.”

“You sure do, Romeo.”

You stand from the couch, your face laced with shock and anger and confusion, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Don’t engage, [y/n], what the hell?” Everest interjects.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “How the hell did you find my house?” you direct at Matthew.

“Oh, what?” he scoffs. “Like you’re the only one around here who can play stalker?”

“Go home, Matthew.”

“Five minutes. I’m asking you for five minutes. You can time me if you want.”

“Go back to California, Matthew.”

“Look, I know I fucked up. I know, but —“

“Do you?” you snap. You take slow, calculated steps towards the front door, and your voice is lowering to a rumble. “Do you know that you fucked up? Because, if you did, if you truly knew just how badly you fucked up, then you would leave. You would get on a fucking plane and leave, and you would never come back!”

The way Matthew is looking at you right now.Like he can’t fathom what’s happening. Like he is trying his very best not to feel defeated. “Can I . . . can I just —“

“No.” Everest says. “You heard her. Fuck off, string bean.”

You walk away, retiring to your kitchen. You try to keep yourself busy, but you’re trembling like mad and you can barely breathe.

Matthew leaves. You know because you hear the door close. Everest comes into the kitchen, and you feel stuck. Frozen to the spot and position you’re in. Your back is to her, and you can’t begin to imagine or guess what look is on her face right now.

She’s quiet for a moment, eyeing you with her arms crossed at her chest. She leans against the entryway and sighs, “Tell me more.”

Ramona walks up your driveway, and it isn’t until she looks up from her phone that she sees Matthew. She notices him, and he notices her, and Ramona tries to act like it didn’t happen, But when Matthew opens his mouth to speak, she blows past him, “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

“I know,” he says instantly. He is well aware, but it doesn’t stop him from running in front of her, blocking her from your front door. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, but . . . please, can you give this [y/n]?”

Matthew holds out an envelope. It’s bright red, your name is printed on the front of it in his handwriting.

Ramona glances at it, but she quickly glances back up, “Do I look like a mailman to you?”

“She won’t take it from me. She won’t talk to me. She might take it from you.”

“Yeah, or she might fire me for even taking it from you in the first place.”

“[y/n] wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s usually pretty amazing, except for when you’re around, or when you’re brought up, or when you’re fucking with her head. You make her a different person, dude. I want no part of it.”

He nods, looks down, “Fair enough . . . I’ll put it in her mailbox.”

“Yeah, why don’t you do that?” She shrugs, and she continues on by him.

“Damn . . .” Everest says. “You ghosted the guy at the airport?”

“Basically,” you shrug.

“Well, fuck,” she scoffs. “That is some serious great gatsby shit.”

“Yeah, we’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.”

The doorbell rings, and you both turn your heads sharply towards the entrance. “You don’t think he would come back, do you?” Everest asks as she walks to the door.

“Well, he never listens much to anything I say, but he’s probably a little scared of you.”

She laughs, and when she opens the door, she tells you it’s only Ramona, who walks in quickly, looking for you. She gives you a soft smile, and joins you in the kitchen as Everest follows close behind.

“So,” Ramona pips. “What’s the game plan?”

“You and [y/n] come to my office in the city and we’ll figure it out. Hey, did you pass him on your way out?” Everest asks her.

“Uh, who?”

“Matthew,” you tell her. “He was just here, you didn’t see him?”

“He was here?” Ramona questions, putting on a look of bewilderment. “When?”

“Just now. He left right before you got here.” Everest explains.

“Holy shit,” Ramona says. “What’d he want?”

“[y/n].”

“So,” you interrupt. “Your office? Now? We can go ahead and get going.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Everest stops you in your tracks, throwing her hands up. “Not so fast, you . . . you need to shower first.”

You look down at your outfit. You’re still dressed in Claire’s clothes and they’re completely disheveled. You haven’t showered or brushed your teeth since the last time you had sex, and the very thought makes you feel dirty. You look exactly how you feel. You sigh, “Fair enough.”

“We’ll wait in the car,” Everest nods, and motions to Ramona to follow her.

“What are we gonna do with her?” she says to Ramona as soon as they’re out of the house and walking down the driveway.

“I don’t know, she’s my boss . . . I can only help so much.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve known [y/n] for a long time now, and she’s never needed saving. But, something tells me we’re going to have to keep her away from this one.”

“From Matthew?” Ramona stops in her tracks.

“Well,” Everest stops, turns around to look at her. “She’s a grown woman. She’ll do what she wants. But, that zombie in there,” she motions to the house. “Who walks around the city in her pajamas for a man, is not [y/n]. Atleast, not the world’s [y/n]. People love her. She’s one of the few celebrities that’s kind and passionate and isn’t problematic. I’m just being proactive here.”

“Proactive?”

“She says she’s done with him. She told him she’s done with him. Now, we will just keep her on that path. Few months later, she and the rest of the world forget this ever happened and everything is back to normal.”

“You sound very sure of all of this.”

“Yeah, well, I like my schedules and I happen to like [y/n] so I better be sure. Come on, our ride’s further down the driveway,” Everest continues walking. While Ramona is stuck in place.

“Hey! Uh,” Ramona stutters, suddenly, loudly, causing Everest to turn around once again. “I think I left my water bottle in the house. I’ll meet you in the car?”

“Okay,” Everest eyes her. “It’s just around the corner. And tell [y/n] to hurry up.”

“I will!”

Ramona waits for Everest to continue down the driveway, and when she’s just far enough, Ramona turns around and acts as if she’s walking back up to your front door. When she’s positive Everest has made it to the car, she runs over to your mailbox. She opens it slowly, so it doesn’t creak as loud. The bright red envelope is the only thing in there, and she takes it out quickly. She looks at it for a moment, asks herself what the hell she’s doing. But she doesn’t have time to think right now, you could walk out at any moment. She closes your mailbox, shoves the envelope in her bag, and walks down the driveway.

Matthew Gubler, himself, is a disruption in the space-time continuum.

When you start tallying up the days, it just doesn’t make sense. Some days, every second feels like it’s crawling by. You’ll be in class, at the head of the class, and you’re surprised when your lesson plan ends atleast ten minutes early. And some days, time moves too fast. You find yourself running late for things, events, important people or things, which isn’t like you.

You call it Matthew Brain, and you keep that term to yourself. It happened fifteen years ago. And it’s happening now. It’s a slow, steady descent back to earth, back to reality. Time isn’t real with him, and you think that’s the reason you can’t remember much of your senior year. It’s a rush, a high to even be near him, and it’s the ultimate collapse when he’s gone. Really gone. Out of the life, for the second time.

Time has reset.

And what feels like one month with Matthew Gubler, only turns out to be four days.

You’re on a journey back to earth, and you haven’t even reached the bottom yet. It’s coming, but not now, you thought. You have time to prepare. And this time you’ll be ready. Ready to hit rock bottom, and spend another fifteen years digging yourself out. You have time, you’re sure of it.

Then Ramona comes into your office. She notices you crying, and you have to twirl around in your chair while you wipe the tears away. “Shit, Ro,” you try to laugh. “What’s up?”

“Uh, your afternoon class?” she reminds you. “With the girls at the community center? . . . What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

A lot. Not anything that you can really talk to Ramona about. And each day is something different. Like today, you’re feeling like a fucking idiot. You feel unbelievably stupid and lost and question why anyone in their right mind would choose to learn anything from you. You feel defeated, and you can’t get the look on that girl’s face out of your head.

You turn to Ramona with a soft smile, “I’m fine. I forgot about the class, thank you for reminding me. I just have to grab a few things before I go.”

“Well,” she sets her bag down in one of the chairs on the opposite side of your desk. She takes a seat in the other, “You’ve got some time, I haven’t even called the ride yet.”

You eye her, suspicious furrowing your eyebrows, “Oh, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” she seems genuinely confused.

“Sit there and feel sorry for me. I don’t need pity. I’m alright.”

“I’ve never seen you cry before . . . I’m just worried.”

“And I appreciate that, kid, I really do. But you don’t have to be, alright?”

“. . . okay.” she shrugs.

“Anyways,” you change the subject. “How much time do I have until I’ve gotta be out of here?”

“Um, I can call you a ride now, it should be here in about, ten minutes?” Ramona pulls her phone from her pocket, and holds it up as she dials the number.

“Sounds good,” you nod.

She leaves the room to make the call, and when she closes the door, you release a big sigh. As if you’d been holding it in the whole time she was here. You get up from your chair, and walk around the desk. Not paying attention, you stub your toe into the adjacent chair, so hard that the chair falls to the ground.

“Ow! Son of a b—“ your yelp is cut off by a painful groan, and your reach down to hold your foot. You look out in front of you, and Ramona’s entire bag has spilled out across the floor. “Fuck,” you mumble and instantly begin to clean it up.

It’s bright red. And it sticks out like a sore thumb. You reach over to grab it, but only because you recognized his hand writing. You run your fingers over your name, and your head is starting to hurt from the amount of pure confusion.

The door swings open, “Okay, they’ll be here in fifteen, but you have some wiggle room —“ Ramona stops when she sees the item in your hand.

You stand up straight, look her in the eye. She’s shaking. She’s trembling, and there are already tears in her eyes.

“I . . . can explain,” she says.

“Then explain.”

“Matthew . . . wanted me to — to give that to you.”

“When?”

“When, um, when he was at your house on Saturday.”

“You said you didn’t see him. You acted like you didn’t even know he had been there. You took this from him?” your voice goes up at slight octave. Not by much, but it stills cuts Ramona like a knife.

“No! No, I didn’t take it from him. I told him to put it in the mailbox. Which he did, but then I . . .”

“You? You what? Went into my mailbox and took it? Are you kidding?”

“It was crazy! I know! It was absolutely insane of me! But—But Everest was saying all these things about protecting your image, and being proactive, I just wanted to help. I thought —“

“Everest? Everest knew about this?”

“No. No. I took it when she wasn’t looking, and I just, I thought maybe if you didn’t know about the letter, you would be able to move on, y’know? Heal.”

“That was not your decision to make.”

“I know. [y/n], I’m so sorry. I can’t — I can’t even begin —“

“You’re right,” you interrupt her. “You can’t.”

You look down at the envelope in your hands, and shake your head. “God, Ro, I can barely look at you right now.”

“I’m sorry . . .”

You nod.

“I’ll . . . go wait for the car,” she nods, sadly and apologetically exiting the room.

You close the door behind her, and press your back against it. You slide to the floor, and bring the evelope close to your face. The day is not over, and you may need all night to take this in. You are not mentally prepared for whatever is in your hands, but, you rip it open anyway.

There’s a thin piece of paper inside. You pick it up, and it feels so frail that you worry it might rip. You set it on top of the envelope, and examine it. Your eyes dot over the page, until you realize, it’s not a letter at all.

American Airlines

[y/n] [y/l/n]

Seat: 14A

May Sixteenth, 2002

It’s a plane ticket. From fifteen years ago.

One you’ve never seen.

One you’ve never touched.

And now that it’s in your hands, you wish you never knew it existed.

#mgg #esny #tg #mine

[talkfastromance4]

A NYE Wedding// Luke&Lily oneshot

a/n: thank you so much for your patience! I've had a bit of writer's block the last couple months.

word count: 4k

warnings: mentions of pregnancy throughout

Luke&Lily Masterlist

Masterlist

Feedback is always welcome. Enjoy! :)

***

The days following Christmas were still jam packed due to Cory and Ella’s wedding coming up on New Year’s Eve. Lily and Posy were enjoying the toys they were given and you were making space in Oli’s room for another crib for Violetta since she’ll be spending a few nights at your place when the wedding is over. Cory and Ella will be staying at a fancy hotel until the fifth as a sort of mini honeymoon. Their real one would be a year from now when Violetta is older so they’ll feel more comfortable leaving her behind (probably with you and Luke.)

While you were moving furniture you were going over the itinerary the day of the wedding which included taking the girls to the salon so you can all get styled with Ella. Her sister Maddie is the maid of honor and you’re the second bridesmaid standing alongside Luke. Cory’s long term friend Dylan is his best man. Ella’s always wanted an intimate wedding and the guest count is about ninety people.

Luke built the second crib across from Oliver and you just finished fitting the dusty pink sheet on the mattress when Lily comes running into the room with Posy hot on her heels.

“Mama, Auntie Crystal is on your phone,” Lily holds your phone in the air and you hear it ringing. Crystal’s face and yours stare back at you. “It’s ringing a lot.”

“Thanks sweetie,” you take your phone from Lily and she runs off with Posy down the hall. Luke’s outside tearing down present boxes so you can have a fire on the patio later after dinner. “Hey Crys, what’s–”

“I don’t know where else to go, can I come by you? I’ve been driving around for an hour in a circle in our subdivision but I can’t go back there, not yet. I’m so upset and he knows that so how could he say those things? I needed to get away but now I don’t know where to go. Can I come over?”

You tried to follow along to her words but she was speaking so fast and through tears it took you a second to gather what her words meant.

“Of course you can come over, you never have to ask that. What exactly is going on?” you flop the mattress into the crib and toss a blanket in there; you’ll situate it later. The way Crystal is sounding has you worried.

“I’ll explain…I just really need to get to your house before I change my mind again,” she sobs.

“Okay, that’s fine, um…stay on the phone with me until you’re here. You don’t have to talk but just so I can hear you’re all right.”

Thankfully, hers and Michael’s house is only fifteen minutes away but with the hysteria in Crystal’s voice anything could happen. You’re standing in the driveway waiting for her car to pull around the bend all the while you hear her sniffling in your ear. She doesn’t even have the radio on.

“I’m turning the corner.”

Her voice sounds so meek and small and your stomach clenches. She’s never acted this way before and you’re trying to anticipate what’s about to happen. Her car pulls around the corner and you step off to the side watching as she pulls into your driveway, she parks in the far left and you end the call.

You appear on her side just as she opens the door. You let out a gasp thinking she’s falling out but she just moved so fast to get into your arms for a hug. Well, as best she can because of her stomach.

“Oh! It’s okay, you’re all right,” you hug her tightly and let her cry into your shoulder until you hear her breathing shallowly. “Let’s go inside so you can sit down and tell me what happened.”

“Can you grab my bags for me?”

Bags?!

“Of course, go on inside. Luke and the kids are out back so they won’t bother you for a bit,” you rub at her back and she pulls away from your hold. You frown when you see how bloodshot and sullen her eyes are. It looks like she hasn’t been sleeping and her cheeks are rosy from her crying.

“Thank you,” she hiccups wiping at her eyes. She wipes at her eyes, places one hand on her lower back and the other cradling her belly before she shuffles carefully around the car towards your door.

You open the backseat door and see three bags and a pillow.

“This isn’t good,” you mumble to yourself reaching for the bags. Two of them are on your shoulders, the other hooked in your elbow and the pillow pressed against your chest.

***

You bring over a large mug of lavender tea to Crystal sitting on the couch after you placed her things in the guest bedroom. She’s staring absently at the blank TV screen moving her hands in circles over her pregnant belly.

“Here, this will help calm you down,” you sit next to her and she takes the mug with a soft ‘thank you.’ You stare at her as she takes a drink. “What happened?”

“We’ve been having the same fight since we found out about the babies and now they’re almost here and we still haven’t figured it out.”

“Fight about what?”

“With the due date getting closer my doctor is thinking I’ll go into labor early even though everything has been going fine. Early birth is common with twins. And when that happens…” she shakes her head and closes her eyes but the tears still roll down her cheeks, “he’s not going to be here.”

She swipes at her tears with her fingers but it doesn’t help because they keep on coming. Your heart breaks seeing her like this and you hadn’t even realized the guys would be touring around her due date. You wrap your arms around her and hug her close.

“And he won’t be around for the first four months of their life and I’ll be all by myself with two babies when I’ve never even had one!”

She’s full-on crying now and you do your best to try to soothe her. You don’t want her to go into an even earlier birth due to stress.

“I’m so sorry, Crystal…what has Michael said about it all?”

“He gets mad because he can’t cancel the tour again no matter how badly he–he wants to,” she hiccups. “Then he thinks I want him to quit music which I don’t and that makes me even mo-more angry with him.”

“Is there any way he can skip a few shows?”

“I don’t know, I doubt it,” she sniffles. “Even if it was a month, that's almost twenty shows and that’s…not ideal.”

You sigh heavily, there has to be a solution to this.

“Why don’t you go lay down and try to take a nap,” you suggest rubbing at her back. “You look exhausted and when you wake up we’ll have dinner ready.”

“Okay.”

You help her stand up and carry the mug as you follow her down the hall to the guest room. She sighs in comfort and pulls her pillow close, you lay a blanket over her in case she gets cold. She grabs your hand and squeezes.

“Thank you for letting me stay.”

“Always,” you smile.

“If Michael calls…I’m not ready to talk to him yet.”

“Okay,” you nod, then close the blinds a little so the room is darker. “Try and rest.”

You hear her sigh heavily before you close the door and you check your phone. Nothing from Michael so you decide to head outside and discuss what’s going on with Luke. When you’re outside, the girls are drawing on the patio with their chalk and Oliver is in his playpen under the umbrella to protect him from the sun. You check on him first and he’s snoozing comfortably with his little octopus Michael got for him.

“Hey lovie,” Luke greets piling strips of cardboard on top of each other.

“Hey.”

“Have you heard from Crystal at all? Michael’s been blowing up my phone and the group chat asking if any of us have heard from her.” He rips some more cardboard.

“Um, yeah, she’s actually in the guest room right now.”

His movements still, he turns around slowly facing you. “What?”

You glance at the girls and they aren’t paying attention, they’re chatting away about their drawings but you pull Luke closer to Oliver anyway just in case.

“She and Michael have been fighting and this was a big one. With the babies coming, and probably earlier than expected, he probably won’t be here for the birth and the first four months of their life because of the tour.”

“Oh,” he heaves a big sigh running his fingers through his hair before placing them on his hips. “Is she all right?”

“She’s very upset and exhausted and crying a lot. I gave her some tea and I hope she’s able to get a few hours’ nap in before we eat dinner.”

“Have you called Michael?”

“No, she doesn’t want to talk to him yet.”

Luke’s eyes bug out.

“He’s a nervous wreck that his pregnant wife just up and left, Y/N. He needs to know where she is,” he pulls out his phone.

You cover the screen with your hand, his blue eyes flick up to yours. “I know that, Luke. I wanted you to know what was going on. Tell him where she is but that she needs some space right now.”

“Kind of opposite of what she wants though in the scheme of things,” he mutters and you stare at him in shock.

“Did you seriously just say that?” You remove your hand from his phone as if the device burned you but it was really his words and lack of compassion.

“It’s just a little ironic, don’t you think?” he asks, typing away on his phone.

“A few days is a hell of a lot different from four months. I’m taking Oliver inside to finish his nap,” you roll your eyes moving to your baby boy. His eyes open partially when he feels your presence but he remains asleep resting his head on your shoulder. “Let’s go inside, honey.”

You kiss his head then shoot a glare at Luke who’s staring at you with a blank expression. It isn’t until you settle Oliver in his crib that you realize something; Luke won’t be home for Oliver’s first birthday.

***

The girls are ecstatic to see Crystal when she emerges from her nap for dinner. Her eyes are still puffy but she doesn’t look as exhausted as before. She hugs them and presses their small hands to her belly when one of the twins starts to kick.

You’re making chicken parmesan for dinner and Luke touches your shoulder but you’re quick to move from his grasp to the sink. He sighs sidling up next to you.

“Can we talk?” he asks quietly.

“Later,” you say tersely, then glance at the timer on the oven. “Lily, can you take your sister to the bathroom and wash your hands? Dinner is almost ready.”

“Come on, Po,” Lily takes her sister’s hand and they head down the hall.

“You should wash up, too,” you tell Luke, still avoiding his eyes.

Dinner is quiet amongst the adults but Posy keeps Crystal’s attention, Luke keeps giving you furtive glances.

“We’re gonna have s’mores for dessert!” Lily tells Crystal.

“Those are my favorite!” Crystal smiles. “Can you help me with mine?”

You’re about to gather the plates but Luke beats you to it. When he takes yours from your place he bends down to kiss your temple.

“I love you,” he murmurs and kisses you again.

You turn to him, staring into his eyes, “I love you, too.”

He smiles and gives you a quick kiss on your lips then heads to the sink to rinse off the plates. You sigh and meet Crystal’s gaze, she smiles at you sadly.

After s’mores and a Disney movie, Crystal turned in early, you and Luke were doing the nightly routines with the kids. Lily and Posy brush their teeth together as Luke changed Oliver’s diaper and into his pajamas. Lily can change herself so you’re helping Posy into hers and then she’s getting her stuffed animals together while you move into Oliver’s room.

Luke is placing Oliver’s glasses on his dresser when you approach his crib.

“Sweet dreams my sweet boy,” you smile down at him caressing his cheek. He kicks his legs and mumbles ‘mama’ sleepily. You lean over the crib to give him a kiss.

You pass Luke as he takes his turn to say goodnight then you move into Lily’s room. She’s already settled in her bed with her bunny and blanket.

“Is Auntie Crystal going to stay for a while?” she asks as you sit down and make sure she’s tucked in.

“For a few days,” you nod. “Won’t that be fun?”

“Yeah. Is she okay?”

“She’s all right,” you nod again, brushing her hair from her forehead. “Now, it’s time for you to get some sleep. Goodnight, I love you.”

“Night mama, I love you, too.”

You bend down and hug her, you each give a kiss on the cheek giggling. Again, like a revolving door, you and Luke pass by each other as he comes to say goodnight to Lily.

“Are you and mama fighting?” you overhear Lily ask him and you sigh. She’s becoming so observant of things you don’t want her to be observant of.

Posy’s eyes are already closed when you enter her room. Being outside all day makes it a lot easier for her to go to sleep at night which you’re thankful for.

“Night, Posy girl,” you whisper and kiss her cheek.

You and Luke pass by again but your last stop is into your bedroom. Being in the space of your own comfort brings on the weight of the day. Ever since Crystal showed up it has you thinking of what your version of the tour is going to be like. It was different when it was only Lily, she was so young and didn’t understand it all too well.

But now you have three children who adore their father and he’s going to be gone for four months.

You do your own night routine; skincare, brushing your teeth, changing into pajamas and then applying a night lotion to your face. You hear the door close behind you but you don’t turn around.

“Can we talk now?” Luke asks.

“Yeah,” you sigh, placing the lotion back on top of your dresser. You cross your arms when you turn around and Luke is already shaking his head.

“No, no, no, don’t have your arms crossed in defense.” He strides over to you uncrossing your arms and holds your hands in his. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier about Crystal, I know how it sounded but it’s not how I meant it.”

“I know, talking with her made me think of what it’s going to be like for us when you’re gone on tour as well. You’re going to miss Oliver’s first birthday and I wanted it to be so special since we’ve been through so much with him ever since he was born…” you shake your head as you feel the tears sting your eyes. Not wanting Luke to see you cry, you drop your head to his chest and his arms wrap around you.

“Hey, hey, no crying,” he hushes, “we’re just talking. C’mere.”

He transitions the both of you to the bed. He dries your tears.

“I already have Oli’s birthday worked out. After our show on the fifteenth we have three days until the next one so I’ll be on a flight as soon as the show is finished so we can celebrate.”

“Really? Oh, Luke, that’s so great,” you launch yourself at him in a fierce hug, more tears falling.

“I think the guys will try to come with me, but I haven’t heard the final word from them yet,” he says and you pull out of the hug. “I’ve thought about this and there’s a short break between May and June where I’ll come home. I won’t be home for Po’s birthday.”

“We can celebrate her birthday again when you’re home, she’ll love that,” you laugh and cup his cheek. “I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. It’s been a long time since you were last on tour and it was only Lily at the time.”

“I know. I promise you I always think of our family first and the team knows that.”

“I suppose there isn't wiggle room where Michael can miss the first month so he can be at home with Crystal and the babies?”

Luke sighs. “It would be challenging without him, but if he decides that I won’t stop him. I wouldn’t want to miss out on the first month of our new baby. But that’s up to Michael if he wants to do that or not.”

“Maybe you could suggest it?”

“I’ll try,” he smiles. “So…are we good?”

“We’re so good, baby.” You give him a big kiss to prove it.

***

Crystal ended up staying with you for three days with Michael texting you and Luke asking how she’s doing nearly every hour. Luke was getting sick of it so he called him and mentioned your idea of him taking the first month off so he can be with Crystal. Michael said he hadn’t even thought of that and wondered if Calum and Ashton would be all right with it. They were called up and the four of them decided to have a meeting after Cory and Ella’s wedding because that’s coming up in a few short days.

After that call, Michael stopped by and knocked on your guest room door asking Crystal if he could come in. Twice, you had to pull Posy away from the door because she wanted to visit with her uncle. They were in there for a good hour and a half before they came out smiling.

“All good?” Luke asks, sipping from his coffee.

“We’re all good,” Michael smiles then kisses Crystal’s cheek. “When we have breaks I’ll fly home with you but…I do want to spend the first month with her and the babies. I don’t want them to be scared of me when I come home and they’re four months old.”

“That’s so great you guys,” you smile.

***

On New Year’s Eve, you, Posy and Lily woke up early to head to the salon to get your hair and makeup done with Ella and Maddie. Luke made a quick breakfast and promised to be at the hotel on time with Oliver. He kissed you all goodbye and were on your way.

Posy and Lily went first with their hair which consisted of braids and curls and a light blue flower crown. Ella is cool as a cucumber drinking her mimosa while Maddie is holding Violetta. The morning goes by quickly and you’re at the hotel waiting until it was time to get dressed. Posy took a little nap with Violetta on the bed and you were on the phone with Luke.

“Oli didn’t sleep so long for his nap so hopefully he’ll be fine during the ceremony,” he tells you.

“It won’t be that long so I can hold him. Are you on your way to the hotel?”

“Just about. Oh, Cal finally decided to ask Rayna to come to the reception…Cory says it’s fine but can you ask Ella just to make sure?”

“Sure,” you snicker and shift the phone from your mouth to talk to Ella. “Hey, Ella, is it okay if Rayna comes to the reception?”

“Of course! We’ll have plenty of food and I reserved the spot next to Calum just in case,” she laughs.

“She’s all good to come,” you laugh informing Luke.

Calum was debating on asking Rayna to the wedding because it hasn’t even been a month that they’ve been seeing each other. You and Luke reminded him it’s not that big of a deal. Everyone knows her and it’s going to be low key so it’ll feel like a big party more than a wedding.

When it was time to get dressed, you helped Posy into her dress that she continuously spun in with her small flower bouquet. Lily sat perfectly still on the couch flattening the creases in her own dress then kept Violetta occupied while you and Maddied helped Ella in her own dress.

Shortly after, the six of you went downstairs and waited to walk down the aisle. Lily would be pulling Oliver and Violetta in a little wagon down the aisle.

“Wow, you all look beautiful,” Luke smiles when he appears with Oli. He gives Ella a congratulatory hug and kiss on the cheek then watches Posy and Lily spin in their dresses. “You two are princesses! And look at my Queen.”

“Oh stop,” you roll your eyes but accept the compliment with butterflies in your stomach. “You look very handsome. Won’t be able to take my eyes off you.”

“Likewise, lovie,” he grins and gives you a sweet kiss.

The kids walk down the aisle without a hitch, you give Cory a kiss and whisper to him how beautiful Ella looks. He cries as Ella walks down the aisle and Luke gives you a wink from behind him.

The ceremony is short and sweet and then it’s picture time. Posy has a minor meltdown because she wanted to be with Violetta who was in Cory’s arms. Ella told her she could be after the first couple pictures and that appeased her a bit, especially when Ashton made funny faces at her from his chair.

Dinner was set to be ready for five o’clock and you were surprised at how well the timetable was going. Rayna showed up in a beautiful black and gold dress with her hair straightened and falling down her back. Calum lit up as soon as he saw her. Lily sat in between you and Luke at the head table while Oli was with Michael and Crystal, he was very comfortable in Michael’s lap and Posy sat with Ashton and KayKay.

Cory and Ella’s first dance song was Perfect by Ed Sheeran and then they danced with Violetta. It was a sweet moment to watch. After their dance, Stuck in Gravity came on, yours and Luke’s wedding song.

“Your turn,” Ella smiles at you. “I wanted you two to have a moment as thanks for welcoming you into your family.”

“You didn’t have to do that!” You say giving her a big hug.

“And for watching Vi while we have our small honeymoon,” Cory adds.

“That’s practice for us,” Luke laughs then holds his hand out to you.

“Why do you keep saying that?” You laugh and he shrugs.

You take his hand and are welcomed by applause, hoots and whistles as he spins you on the floor before bringing you against his chest. You haven’t danced like this with Luke in–

“The last time we danced like this was at Michael and Crystal’s wedding,” Luke finishes your thought out loud.

“We should dance like this more often,” you smile, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Anytime, anywhere, lovie,” he smiles, resting his forehead against yours. “I fall in love with you more and more everyday.”

“I do, too,” you smile.

The rest of the evening is spent dancing and having fun. When it nears midnight, Posy and Lily are wide awake with their sparklers waiting for Cory and Ella to walk down the aisle of a sparkler arch. Luke is holding Oliver and you have Violetta in your arms who are both sound asleep despite the loud commotion. Cory and Ella run down the flashing light archway of all your sparklers and do a big kiss with a dip at the end.

Luke brings you in for a kiss and you’re so ready for this new year that ended and started with love surrounded by your friends and family.

Taglist: @calumance @in-superbloom @calpalirwin @karajaynetoday @wiiildflowerrr @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie @suchalonelysunflower @hoodhoran @fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sunshineeashton @ashtonsunflower @mymindwide @itjustkindahappenedreally @seanna313 @fivesecondsofonedirection @mulletcal @pandaxnienke @prentisswrites @princesslrh

#luke&lily #luke&lily oneshot #luke&lily fluff #dad!luke #dad!sos #luke hemmings fluff #luke hemmings writinf #l&l

[yournameoneverypage]

Moon Over Miami

Anon request; Shawn Mendes x (y/n).

~3.1k

Warnings: Language.

~ * ~

You scowled at your overflowing carry on. You really didn’t want to bring something bigger, because that would mean baggage check and waiting at luggage carousels and that was just a headache waiting to happen.

Shawn was stretched across your bed on his back, tossing a tennis ball in the air and catching it again. “(Y/n), it’s Miami and we’re only going to be there for four days,” he chuckled. “You do not need to pack so many clothes.”

“Yes, I do. You’re a boy; you don’t understand.”

“First off, I am not a boy. I am a man, and a very attractive one at that.”

You rolled your eyes. Even if you wholeheartedly agreed, you were not going to stroke his ego.

“At the very least, lose most of the makeup. You’ll just sweat it off anyway. And you know I like you better without all that gunk on your face.”

“It doesn’t matter what you do or don’t like, now does it?” you snarked.

He sat up and leaned back against the pillows at the headboard. “I just meant that you’re already so pretty, naturally.”

Shawn was always finding little ways to compliment you and, secretly, you loved it, even if it made you blush, even if it was hard to believe some days.

“Fine.” You threw your hands up in the air in frustration. “You pack for me then.”

“Fine. I will.” He stood from the bed and poked your side. “So dramatic,” he teased, dancing his fingertips from ribcage to hip.

You gave him a small shove, and quickly moved out of tickling range (he knew where your most sensitive spots were). You stuck your tongue out at him.

“Don’t stick it out unless you intend to use it,” he smirked.

“Ha! You wish,” you giggled.

~ * ~

You and Shawn.

It was...confusing.

You had first met him five months ago and had become a regular fixture in his life over the past three. You were friends, good friends. Good friends who spent a ridiculous amount of time together. Good friends who flirted. A lot.

There were feelings, definitely on your side, growing stronger every day you spent together, and you were starting to believe there were deeper feelings on his side as well.

Other than outright pressing your lips to his, and you had never really been that forward with anyone, you weren’t sure what to do to tip the scales from friendship and flirtation to more.

You could simply tell him you were falling for him and that you wanted to take your relationship to the next level, but that scared you even more than the thought of kissing him.

~ * ~

Fifteen minutes later, Shawn stood smugly beside you. Your bag was packed neatly, and you were happy with everything he chose (not that you would admit that to him), which showed you he knew you better than you thought he did. There was even enough room left over for accessories.

It shouldn’t have surprised you; he was pretty adept at packing, having been on tour so often.

“Shut up,” you mumbled.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“But you want to.”

Shawn laughed.

You only added two things, just to prove a point.

~ * ~

You may as well have been in Florida with only Brian and Connor for as often as Shawn had been around the first two days.

The trip had started out incredibly.

You took a redeye from LA to Miami. Shawn held your hand during takeoff and landing. It was your first time flying first class; you didn’t care that you slept through most of it.

Shawn had rented a 3-bedroom beachfront bungalow for the long weekend and had ordered a breakfast basket to be waiting for you when you got there. Everyone ate their fill of croissants and muffins and fresh fruit while you sipped your tea and coffee. Afterward you all agreed that a morning nap poolside sounded ideal.

Shawn claimed the double lounger for the two of you. You curled up beside him and he threw a light blanket over both his and your legs. You laid your head on his shoulder and were asleep within minutes.

When you opened your eyes again, after the best nap you may have ever had in your life thus far, Shawn was no longer beside you. You could see him just inside the back door, talking on his phone.

“Hey,” he announced, returning to the patio, after seeing that you, Brian, and Connor had all awoken. “I’m going to catch up with Camila. I’ll text you after lunch; see where you are.”

~ * ~

You didn’t see Shawn again that first day until you were making plans to spend the evening in South Beach for sunset drinks, dinner, and then a pub crawl for even more drinking.

The boys teased you for being such a lightweight. You were blissfully buzzed, which made it easier for you to let your inhibitions go. Shawn was more intoxicated than you were, which made it a lot easier for you to tug him onto the dance floor.

Flush against him while you moved together to the music, fingertips grazing bare skin, it was too easy to forget that you had been upset with him at all.

Spending all afternoon at the Bayside Market in the hot Miami sun, followed by a night of drinking and dancing into the very early hours of the morning had finally caught up with you. By the time you made it back to the bungalow, you were piggyback on Shawn, your sandals dangling from his fingers by the straps.

~ * ~

Day 2 began with three boys nursing hangovers much worse than yours. You did little things to annoy them, on purpose, which was, admittedly, not very nice of you. You knew they’d had enough when they decided to throw you in the pool. When Shawn reached out, laughing, to help you out, you pulled him in instead.

He chased you into one of the corners of the deep end, trapping you between the pool wall and his hard, wet chest, his arms on either side of you. You had to hold onto his biceps to keep yourself afloat, which, from the look in his eyes, was exactly how and where he wanted you.

Your heart was telling you to use this position to your advantage, finally tip those scales, and you might have if it had been the night before when you were a little drunk. Regretfully, you were sober and when you were sober you tended to overthink things. Now that you were sober, he was too close.

You ducked underwater, under his arm, and quickly pulled yourself out of the pool.

~ * ~

Once you were dry and dressed, you dragged Shawn, Connor, and Brian to Wynwood to go on a golf cart tour of the Walls. They had all been to Miami before, more than once, so they had put you in charge of the itinerary.

From Wynwood you made your way to Little Havana.

After a string of late afternoon texts from Camila, Shawn asked if she could join the four of you for dinner. He wanted you to meet her.

They tried their best to be inclusive throughout dinner, and Camila was certainly nice enough, but still you felt like the fifth wheel, the spare, most of the time.

After dinner, Shawn and Camila wandered off together. When it became clear that Shawn wouldn’t be returning to the house with the rest of you, your heart sank. You stewed in your hurt until it became anger.

You understood that Camila was one of Shawn’s best friends, and he hadn’t seen her for a while. You could forgive him for the day before, but this was supposed to be your trip. You, Brian, Connor, and Shawn. D'Artagnan and the Three Musketeers. If all Shawn had wanted to do was hang out with Camila, why had he bothered to invite you at all? You held no grudge against or felt any ill will toward Camila. It wasn’t her fault that Shawn was being a clueless dick.

~ * ~

You were laying on your side, looking out the window of which you forgot to close the blinds. The moon reflected off the still water of the pool that you could see from your room.

You heard the quietest clearing of someone’s throat. You rolled over to see Shawn leaning against the frame of the doorway, bare chested, in soft gray pajama bottoms.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked softly. You couldn’t sleep either, even though you were exhausted.

You really didn’t want to spend the remainder of your time in Miami being angry with him. There were still two days left. You patted the mattress on the empty side of your bed. That was all the invitation he needed.

Shawn crawled into bed beside you, tugged on the open collar of the other half of his pajamas, and chuckled, “Thief.”

“It’s so soft, and it smells like you,” you whispered.

Shawn laid his head on your stomach and you instinctively started to run your fingers through his hair, tugging gently on his curls. You heard him sigh deeply, contentedly, and the next thing you remembered was waking up to the bright morning sun.

~ * ~

You smiled and stretched languidly. Shawn must have made his way back to his own room during the night sometime. You didn’t hear anyone else up and about yet. You decided to surprise the boys by making breakfast.

Brian and Connor stumbled into the kitchen, following the smell of sizzling bacon and strong coffee.

“Is Shawn still sleeping?” you asked.

Connor and Brian exchanged a look. Connor cleared his throat and said, “Shawn isn’t here.”

You didn’t even have to ask where he had gone. Returning to your room you retrieved your phone on the nightstand. You hadn’t bothered to check it when you woke up.

There was a group text from Shawn that read:

Grabbing a workout and then a quick breakfast with Camila. Be back soon.

Brian and Connor were nearly finished eating when Shawn returned, oblivious to what he was walking into. He grabbed a few slices of bacon and sat down to join them at the kitchen island.

“Where’s (y/n)?”

Brian and Connor shook their heads at him. “You can be such a prick sometimes,” Brian said. Both he and Connor then stood and left the room.

Confused, Shawn glanced around and suddenly it all made sense. “Shit,” he said to himself, under his breath.

~ * ~

Shawn stood in your bedroom doorway like he had the night before.

“I’m sorry, (y/n).”

You refused to acknowledge him.

“I didn’t know you were going to make breakfast or I would have been back sooner.”

You wanted to bite at him that he shouldn’t have been gone at all.

You had just pulled on your swimsuit cover up when you turned to him. His eyes snapped from your ass to your eyes. You slipped on your sunglasses, grabbed your beach bag, and said, “Brian, Connor, and I will be on the beach, if you decide you want to join us.” You pushed past him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he replied.

~ * ~

You purposely chose to wear the smallest, sexiest bikini you had with you. It wasn’t one you yourself would have packed but since Shawn had been the one to pack your carry on he must have wanted to see you in it. The day you bought it was a day when you were feeling particularly confident in your body.

By the time Shawn made it down to the beach, he found you in conversation with two young men who weren’t Brian or Connor. You had removed your cover up and stood before them in your tiny white string bikini.

You were laughing at something one of them was saying. Shawn saw you reach out and briefly place your hand on his forearm.

Shawn was unprepared for the surge of violent irritation that nearly overtook him.

He saw you notice him. He bristled when you leaned in and said something in the other man's ear. He watched as you slid the temple tip of your sunglasses between your teeth. He saw you put your hand on your waist and slightly arch your back. He watched as you touched the small pendant of the necklace you were wearing and drew it away from the skin between your breasts.

Shawn hated the way the two men were looking at you. His stomach churned; his muscles tensed; his heart felt too tight in his chest. He couldn't take anymore.

Sidling up beside you, he wrapped his large hand around the nape of your neck, gently yet possessively.

“Oh, hi Shawn,” you said casually, shrugging out of his grip. “Meet my new friends, Chase and Evan.” You smiled at them, fluttering your eyelashes and biting softly on your lower lip.

“Boyfriend?” Chase asked.

“Oh no, Shawn and I are just friends.” You eased closer to Evan and reached out, meaning to touch the bracelet he was wearing, but before you could, Shawn grabbed your wrist.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he gritted through a fake smile, pulling you away.

“Let go of me,” you snapped. He did, immediately. He never had nor would he ever do anything to physically hurt you.

Brian and Connor, having seen more than enough, hurried toward you. They made you and Shawn take a step back.

“What the hell is going on?” Connor exclaimed.

“(Y/n) is being childish,” Shawn growled.

Maybe you were, but you were upset, goddamn it. “Me?! Look who’s talking! You’re acting like a jealous boyfriend! You have no claim on me!”

“You’re both being childish!” bit Brian. “And you’re starting to cause a scene. Get over yourselves and fucking talk like adults. If you can’t, walk away,” he admonished.

Shawn ran a hand through his hair and tugged frustratingly on his curls before storming off.

Brian gestured for Connor to stay with you and he followed after Shawn.

“Why did you have to antagonize him?” Connor questioned.

You glared at him. “This is not my fault. Of course you’re on his side.”

“I am on no one’s side. You’re both at fault, and you fucking know it. Yeah, he’s kind of been an asshole, but you didn’t have to flirt with those guys so brazenly right in front of him.” Connor’s voice softened. “You know how he feels about you, (y/n). You should apologize.”

You were thoroughly abashed but still feeling stubborn. You turned on Connor and said, “I will when he does.”

You put your cover up back on, slipped into your sandals, and grabbed your clutch which held your wallet, your eReader, and your phone. You trusted Connor to bring everything else back to the bungalow for you.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“For a walk. I need to be alone.”

~ * ~

The sun was going down when you returned to the house.

When you walked in the door, Shawn, who had been sitting on the edge of the ottoman, stood, and approached you cautiously. He rubbed the back of his neck. “You were starting to worry us,” he said softly.

“I’m sorry. I needed some time to cool off and to think.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe.” His relief was palpable. He stepped even closer to you. “I’m sorry. For how I acted and what I said on the beach. It’s inexcusable.”

“I am, too. I should never have purposely tried to upset you.” You unconsciously reached out and ran your fingertips along the V of Shawn’s t-shirt. “That was the first time we’ve ever fought... I didn’t like it.”

He covered your hand with his, flattening your palm against his heart, which you could feel was beating quite quickly. “Come and have dinner. It’s time to stop thinking and start talking.”

He smirked and began walking backward, hand still over yours.

It was that smirk that set your heart thumping. You followed, curiously, anxiously.

On the back patio was a romantic table set for two, surrounded by tea lights and lit candles.

“Shawn? What’s going on?” you asked, breathlessly.

He crossed to the table and pulled one of the chairs out for you. “Sit, Love. Eat.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“What?” He felt as if his heart might break.

“Too many butterflies.” You softly bit your bottom lip.

“Oh,” he breathed.

“Can we talk first?”

“Of course.”

You walked over to and sat down on the outdoor sectional.

Shawn dropped down beside you with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, (y/n). I’ve been, well, an asshole seems to be the overall consensus. I shouldn’t have ditched you to spend so much time with Camila.”

“I know you’re close,” you said, “and I know it had been awhile since you’d seen her. I tried to be understanding.”

“No,” he interrupted, “this is on me. This was supposed to be our trip. You, Brian, Connor, and me.”

“D'Artagnan and the Three Musketeers,” you said in unison and you both laughed.

Shawn leaned closer you. “Do you want to know the truth?” he asked, as if it was the greatest secret he held, which, to him, it was. “She was talking me through my feelings for you.” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “She made it very clear to me that I was ‘estúpido’ for spending time with her instead of the person I should be, for talking through my feelings with her instead of with the one I really needed to talk with.”

“You have feelings for me?” you breathed, feeling your entire body flush, not just your cheeks.

Shawn laughed softly and took your hands in his, intertwining your fingers. “It’s not obvious? I was jealous of those other guys because I want to be the boyfriend. I want the right to call you mine... I’m falling in love with you, (y/n). Which is insane since we haven’t even kissed yet. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to; every time I see you I want to kiss you.”

Without warning, you pressed your lips to his. It took him not even a moment to respond, pulling you onto his lap and cupping your face. Kissing Shawn was even better than you had ever imagined it would be.

When finally you eased away from him, breathless, you confessed, “I’m falling in love with you too, Shawn. I want you to be mine. I want to be only yours.”

“Does that mean I can kiss you whenever I want to?” he whispered, grinning happily.

“Over and over and over again,” you breathed.

His lips once more met yours. Your hands encircled the nape of his neck. Tender and unhurried turned deep and delicious.

Your lips left his with an audible ‘aʘa’ and you giggled. “Can we eat now? I’m starving.”

Shawn’s answering laugh, rich and lightsome, was everything.

~ * ~

@mendesblurb @benito-mi-vida

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes x you

[penny-anna]

If you're still doing Geraskier, number 8 for the prompt game?

this one got a bit out of hand!!

better judgement

“I told you to stay down,” Geralt said. “Why didn’t you stay down?”

“I don’t know,” said Jaskier. “I panicked. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You didn’t have to do that. Why did you do that?”

He said, “it might have killed you.”

“Oh, gods,” said Jaskier. “It was my fault. Wasn’t it?”

Jaskier goes with Geralt on a hunt and makes a near-fatal mistake.

(on ao3!)

He was lying on his belly in the mud, the bushes screening him from view; his ears primed for any sound, his eyes trained upon the water of the marsh, watching for even the slightest ripple. He didn’t move a muscle. He breathed slowly. He could do this for days, if he had to.

A nudge against his ribs. “Hey. How long is this going to take?”

He cursed mentally. “I told you to be quiet.”

“I know,” Jaskier whispered. “That’s why I’m whispering.”

Geralt didn’t dignify him with a response.

Jaskier elbowed him again. “Geralt. How long is this going to take? Cause my legs are cramping.”

“You wanted to come,” Geralt said.

“It’s just, and I stand by that decision – it’s just that I’d appreciate a more specific itinerary –”

Something splashed out in the marsh and Geralt clapped his hand over Jaskier’s mouth, silencing him.

“Mmf!”

“Shht!”

The marsh had gone quiet. It was only a diving bird. Slowly, reluctantly, he released Jaskier’s mouth.

“You got mud on my face!” the bard hissed, scandalised.

“You said you’d do as you were told.”

If you want to come you’ll do exactly as I tell you, he’d said. Jaskier had smiled sunnily and said of course – of course – I shall defer to your expertise. He should have known better than to trust him.

“I am!” Jaskier persisted.

“No you aren’t.”

“Are we going to lie here all day?”

Against his better judgement, he tore his eyes away from the water. “What did you expect?”

Jaskier shrugged. “More action than this?”

“I told you I was going to wait for it to come out of hiding.”

“Well, I didn’t expect it to take quite this long.”

“It’s been less than an hour,” said Geralt. “Will you just shut your damned mouth?”

“So can I take it this is going to be an all-day affair?”

The water rippled. Geralt grabbed his arm.

“Because – ow,” said Jaskier. “Sooner or later I am going to have to p–”

Shoving him further back into the bushes, Geralt said, “say down.”

“Hey –”

The beast rose out of the water, serpentine, slate-green. He strode out of the bushes to face it, his sword raised. It was bigger than he’d expected and it was quick in the water. He’d need to draw it up onto land –

A sound behind him and the creature’s broad snout snapped around, its attention caught by something else – by an easier meal.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath and turning he cried, “Jaskier!”

He had left the cover of the bushes, stumbling backwards across the rough ground. His eyes were big and round and trained upon the beast and what he thought he was doing Geralt couldn’t imagine. Stepping forward he put himself between Jaskier and the marsh beast, reaching behind himself to touch the bard’s chest, steadying him.

“Behind me,” he said – but before the words were even out of his mouth the beast reared up and he saw what was about to happen.

He had only a moment to react, and he reacted on pure instinct. He didn’t need to think about it. Turning he grabbed Jaskier, pulling him close, curling around him, shielding him with his body. A hand on the back of his head he forced Jaskier’s face into his armoured chest and braced himself for the inevitable.

The beast’s venom burned across his back, a strip of fire as wide as his arm, dissolving clean through his armour, eating into his skin and flesh. He could hear sizzling on either side of him as the vegetation burned away. The air stang his nostrils. White-hot liquid was running down his back, scorching every part of him that it touched, and he willed himself to breathe. In a moment it would be over.

A splash behind him as it sank back below the water of the marsh and through the pain a detached part of his mind registered that they were safe. The bard was shivering in his arms, alive, uninjured.

He sank to his knees in the mud, taking Jaskier down heavily with him. He’d had worse. But it would take some time to heal. The pain was blinding. It would be hard to talk and it was a long way back to the village. It would be difficult to keep the burns clean, out in the mud and grime of the marsh. It would be difficult to avoid infection. He could feel his armour sticking to his ruined flesh and he gritted his teeth at the sensation, at the new layer of pain. He was nauseated. His heart was thrumming – his head swimming –

“Oh gods,” Jaskier said against his chest. “Oh gods – Geralt – what –”

He was aware abruptly that he was still holding Jaskier tight against his body, squeezing him harder than he ought to. The bard was shifting in his arms, struggling, trying to pull away. “Geralt,” he said. “Geralt, are you alright?”

Slowly, with some difficulty, he relaxed his grip. Jaskier was shaking, his eyes big, his pupils frightened pin-pricks. Holding him by the shoulders, Geralt checked he wasn’t burnt. He was fine. The venom had missed him. It was a comfort. “Are you alright?” he said, to be sure.

Jaskier’s eyes went to his shoulder. “Fuck me,” he said, reaching out to touch his ruined armour.

Geralt caught his hand and flinched, grunting in pain, as the movement pulled at his back.

“Did it –”

“Don’t.” Geralt pushed his hands away.

“Let me see.”

He grabbed at Geralt’s arm and Geralt let him look. He didn’t have it in him to fight.

At the sight of the burns Jaskier paled. “Ohh no,” he said. “Oh, fuck no.”

“It looks worse than it is.” His vision was blurring. He made an attempt to get up. His legs wobbled. “Shit.”

“What do you need?” said Jaskier.

“My pack.”

Jaskier nodded shakily, and went. When he came back a moment later Geralt said, “water.” Jaskier fetched his flask and went to put it to his lips, but Geralt shook his head. “No. On the burns.”

“Do you –”

“Need to wash them.”

“I don’t know –”

“Just pour it over.”

The water was cold, and it stang. He groaned aloud at the pain, his breath leaving him.

Jaskier took him by the arm, trying to steady him. “Are you okay?”

“Bandages,” Geralt managed. He could worry about the pain when his back was clean and dressed. It was lessening now anyway, now that the venom was washed away.

Jaskier was glancing anxiously at the marsh. “Is it going to come –”

“Not yet,” said Geralt. “It takes – a few hours for its venom to –”

“Alright – alright, hush.”

He helped him off with his armour and shirt. His hands were shaking, as he began to wrap the bandages around his chest.

“Is that it?” he said as he tied them off.

“Yeah,” said Geralt.

“Good,” Jaskier said, and turning he crawled away on his hands and knees and retched into the mud.

“I told you to stay down,” Geralt said. “Why didn’t you stay down?”

“I don’t know,” said Jaskier. He wiped his mouth. “I panicked. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Raising his head he said, “you didn’t have to do that. Why did you do that?”

Alone, he would have dodged it. There’d been no time to warn Jaskier, or get him to safety. He’d known the bard wouldn’t have the knowledge or the reflexes to save himself. If Jaskier had taken the venom to his face or chest it would have killed him, messily and painfully. Taking the brunt of it had been the only logical thing to do.

He said, “it might have killed you.”

“Oh, gods,” said Jaskier. “It was my fault. Wasn’t it? I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Geralt shrugged the remains of his shirt back on. It pulled at the burns and he swayed on the spot. With the adrenaline of the fight fading it was getting harder to think around the pain. He could feel his mind turning glassy. This was bad. He’d had worse. But it was bad.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s hands cupped his face. “Geralt? Are you going to be okay? Please say you’ll be okay.”

Geralt grunted.

“I don’t know what to do,” Jaskier pleaded. “I need you to – Geralt, hey.” He lifted Geralt’s sinking head, looking him in the eye. “I need you to tell me what to do.”

He wanted to lie down in the mud and sleep. He might have done, if he was alone.

He gripped Jaskier’s arm. “Help me up.”

Jaskier levered him to his feet. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, you’re okay. Oof,” he said as Geralt leaned on him. “Oh, you’re heavy.”

One foot in front of the other, he walked. He just needed to get back to his horse, he told himself – and then to the village – and then he could rest.

*

Later, his back properly bandaged, a potion in him to take the edge off the pain, he sat upon his bed. He was looking over his ruined armour to see what could be salvaged. There wasn’t much that was undamaged.

“You’re quiet,” he remarked.

“Mm?” Jaskier was across the room, fidgeting in his chair, toying with his notebook but not really writing. “I – I really am sorry.”

“You don’t need to keep saying it,” said Geralt. “You panicked. It happens.”

“I shouldn’t have been there in the first place,” said Jaskier. “You told me as much.”

Geralt thought, I shouldn’t have let you come.

“It happened,” he said. “I’ve had worse. Don’t dwell on it.”

“I can’t help dwelling on it,” said Jaskier. “And, I think I shall be seeing what it did to your back in my dreams.” He closed his notebook. “Are you going to go back out there again?”

“In a couple of days.”

“Is there anything I can to do help?”

“No,” said Geralt. He put aside his armour and reached for the water jug upon the table.

The simple motion pulled at the still open burns on his back and he winced, hissing. “Let me,” said Jaskier, half falling out of his chair in his haste to cross the room.

He filled a cup, and sat tentatively upon the edge of the bed, sitting by Geralt while he drank. “Is it,” he said, “is it going to scar?”

“Yeah,” said Geralt.

“Badly?”

“Probably.”

“Gods,” said Jaskier. “I’m sorry.”

Geralt grunted.

“You didn’t need to let it burn you,” Jaskier said. “It was my fault.”

“I’d do it again.”

“Really?”

Geralt shrugged.

“Why?”

“It’s what I do,” said Geralt. He toyed with his cup. “You did good out there.”

“I really don’t think that I did,” said Jaskier.

“You did what I needed you to when it counted,” said Geralt. “Thanks.”

Jaskier breathed in, and out. “Thank you for not letting it melt my face off.”

Geralt said, “any time.”

#the witcher

[alfredosauce50]

From a past life [Yandere vampire! Romania x reader]

Synopsis: For centuries, he waited for your return--your rebirth. So when he finally learns of your whereabouts just outside of Wallachia, he rushes to meet you in hopes of becoming what you both used to be. But he runs into a predicament when he learns you're in a relationship with a man, a pesky human mortal by the name of Daniel. He'll do anything to get rid of him, even if he has to play dirty. He made a promise to you that he would find you for the rest of your lifetimes, so God forbid that he breaks it. Wordcount: 3, 813 The reader is referred to as she/her.

A trip to Romania had always been on your bucket list. Your boyfriend was just as excited to go, but he wouldn’t have been if it turned out to be the last trip you'd ever go on with him.

Today was when you would visit the highlight of your itinerary. On the Transylvania side of the border with Wallachia, and nestled in miles of rolling hills, was Bran castle. The awe-inspiring fortress told one of the most famous tales of old as Count Dracula's abode. Or at least, it was rumored to be as it fit the description of it.

Needless to say, you were dragging him around the estate to admire anything and everything that piqued your interest or served as a potential photo spot. “Oh, hurry up, Daniel! This is where he slept!” Scrambling closer to the grand bed, which was certainly framed with more wood than needed, you leaned in behind the red rope that fenced off the artifact. Then, you flashed him a wide grin.

He returned the gesture with a tender smile of his own. “I'm as old as this castle, kicsim. Let me take things in slowly.”

“You're only three years older than me. I don't think you have the right to call me little or yourself old.” Flattening your lips at that, your frown melted away as quickly as it appeared.

“But look! Dracula's sheets and mattress. Though it would make more sense to say it was Vlad's... The guy he was based on. Hmm, but that wouldn't make sense either.”

The man rubbed the nape of his neck with a soft laugh. It was no doubt he shared your enthusiasm, but your unapologetic passion always made him fall harder than he already had. “Yep. I believe he was imprisoned here. I don't think he'd be getting the master bedroom.” He appeared from behind and rested himself on your head as you placed a pistol grip on your chin.

“Even then, I can't imagine him sleeping so soundly after sticking so many sticks up people's--” Two strong arms squeezed around your waist to make you gasp.

“Ah-!”

“Okay! What do you say we go down to the gardens for a walk, hm?”

And that was exactly what the two of you did. Skipping out in front of him, you held onto his hands and swung his arms. “I'm gonna go down to the pond, okay? You can enjoy this place nice and slowly like the old person you are.”

This was the greenest garden you ever had the pleasure to stroll through, even the tea house blended in with its moss-covered roof. It only emphasized how ancient this castle really was, and something about it delighted you in ways you couldn't articulate.

“Alright, kicsim. I'll see what nice flowers I'll add to my hair.” Daniel scooped the pink blossom from his hazel brown bangs and placed it behind your ear. “When I do, I'll come get you. Don't let any vampires find you before I do.” Shooting you a wink at that, you pecked him on the nose before running off.

Who would have thought those words would ring truer than he intended? Several miles away, slept a man who was as old as Bran castle. His name too was Vlad, though he never earned such a fearsome reputation by impaling his enemies. Instead, he kept a low profile and dedicated his long, neverending life to finding someone.

Every restless night, she was what he dreamed of since her passing.

When I go, promise me you'll find me again.

Promise me.

Fluttering his eyes awake, they glowed a blood-red in the darkness of his bedroom. They drooped with a tiredness that never seemed to go away no matter how much he rested.

Sliding off the mattress, he folded the flaps of his robes tightly around his body before making his way into the halls. Every corner of this humble countryside cottage he called his home was enshrouded with shadows, and not to mention the thick coating of dust caking the top of every shelf, couch, and tabletop.

He hadn't cleaned this house for centuries. His will to try withered away through the years in his lonesome, but he was patient. Peeking through the gap between the curtains of his overgrown hair, his irises shrunk as the blinding daylight poured into them through the drapes of his living room window. He could feel it in his dead still heart.

Something had changed.

Out there in the world scorched by the sun, was something even warmer. And it was so familiar, so tender, he could not mistake it for anything else, or anybody else for that matter.

She was nearby, and the thought filled him to the brim with a joy so potent, tears of relief welled in his wide eyes. He had waited hundreds of years for this moment. For her return. Her rebirth that would usher in his own.

The prospect was so invigorating, he felt as if his heart began to beat again. He never felt so alive. Scurrying back to his bedroom, he sat in front of his vanity to access his appearance. He had to look presentable before meeting her, hadn't he? A bedhead like this and nightwear would simply not do.

Especially when he hadn't cut his hair for at least twenty years.

Giving his long locks of strawberry-blonde a thorough comb, he let it fall straight down to his lower back. With a few quick snips, he shortened his bangs by a few inches to give the impression he had some sort of control over an otherwise uncontrollable mane of hair.

As he shed himself of his robes in exchange for day clothes, a white dress shirt paired with dark plaid pants, one singular thought repeated in his head like a broken record. As morbid as it sounded, it was more of a Godsend than anything.

Death was never the end. Not for her, and not for him. Or rather, a new beginning.

But it didn't start the way he imagined. Following her sweet scent to the gardens of the famed Bran castle, he found the smell growing more and more pungent, albeit confused. It was mixed with another's, tainted by the stench of a human male. His irises thinned to slits, and he tensed up all over. How could this be?

Hiding behind a tree, he peered over the side to confirm his suspicion.

There she was, her beauty as pristine and untouched as the last time he loved her. For just one second, he was over the moon. But his euphoria was short-lived when he saw that she was with a man. Kissing him, even. Even though it was just on the nose, any further down her face would have caused him to start an apocalypse.

That insignificant, trifling, and scheming little creature. He was about to reap what he sowed. How dare he take his place? It was him she was meant to with, not that pesky mortal!

Whipping his head to the front, his eyes went round with disbelief and his breathing grew ragged. An unfathomable ache spread in his chest as he dug his nails into the bark. How could he have let this happen? It took every shred of his willpower to keep the waterworks at bay.

His throbbing heart was also weighed down with a pang of heavy guilt. To allow another soul to be this close to her was a grave disservice to the promise he made. But that didn't mean he couldn't undo this.

In just a few seconds, he formulated an intricate plan to carry out well-deserved revenge. To have her in his arms again, and him, out of the picture where he belonged. In the blink of an eye, he appeared behind the man and tapped him on the shoulder. When he spun around, he grabbed him by the neck and caught him in a trance with his hypnotizing, inhuman gaze.

“You will give these flowers to the nearest young woman you see. Put them in her hair and kiss her on the lips.” Opening his own palm, he materialized three peonies before placing them in the other's.

Unable to escape the powerful snare cast by a vampire such as himself, Daniel did so as told. “I will give these flowers to the nearest young woman I see. I will put them in her hair and kiss her on the lips.” He reiterated monotonously with his eyes glazed over.

Watching the helpless man saunter off, he smirked devilishly as he exchanged glances with his long-lost lover. This would hurt her a great deal, but she would only be devastated if he never did it.

You had been watching the pond, completely ignorant to the scene that was about to unfold. Little did you know, it was purposely orchestrated. Using a stick to prod at your reflection, you lingered on the ripples distorting it before glancing up. In the distance was none other than your boyfriend, and judging from the pink in his hands, he found his flowers.

So you stood up. You would have snuck up on him as a surprise, but your feet remained firmly planted on the ground when you witnessed him give it away, then flirt with another woman. It couldn't be mistaken for anything else. He was kissing her!

Frankly, you couldn't believe it. One year was all it took for him to lose interest? Blood flushed your face as bile rose in your throat. How could he? And during a vacation at that, too! Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes, but you blinked them away when you heard the light treading of feet nearby.

This had to be a misunderstanding. Right?

Spinning to the source, you found yourself staring at the most peculiar man you had ever seen. He carried a delicate parasol to shade him from the sunlight. Combined with his pasty white skin, it was almost as if he was one of the very mythological creatures the country was renowned for.

He smiled gently, almost understandingly.

“Are you alright, domnișoară? I have a spare handkerchief if you'd like.” His alluring voice was as bewitching as a siren, but his mere presence brought you unspeakable comfort. And yet, he was nothing but a stranger, an odd one at that, so you were at a loss to realize that all it took for you to gravitate towards him was for your eyes to meet.

“I'm okay, thank you. But I couldn't possibly accept something like that. I mean, I don't know you...” Waving your hands at the man apologetically, you took the opportunity to scan him up and down.

As if he walked right out of a fairytale, he oozed prince-like charm. His clothes were traditional and refined, but that long, silky hair of his was certainly a rare sight--rare but breathtakingly beautiful. It gave his character untold notions of grandeur, mystery, and an inexplicable impression he was ancient.

But that couldn't be, not when he didn't look a day over twenty.

“What do you mean, you won't take it? It's yours.” He pulled out a small piece of fabric from his sleeve. Placing the finely embroidered cloth into your palm, he never gave you the chance to object. “It would be rude to regift something, so you'll have to keep it forever.” Mischief curled at his lips, and you couldn't help but laugh a little.

“Alright, alright, you got me there.”

You dabbed away the moisture before breathing out a sigh.

“I'm sure you're a very nice person, but I can't bother you more than I already have. Thank you, again, Mr. Vampire.” If it weren't for how heartbroken you were, you would have been mortified. Being pitied by a Romanian local was never part of your plan.

Just when you were betrayed by Daniel, he appeared like a knight in shining armor. If only you could forget what happened between you and your boyfriend. Otherwise, you would be bragging about meeting a vampire in Romania for as long as you could talk.

“Mr. Vampire?” He lifted his head before revealing a pair of sharp fangs in a grin. Now that caught you off guard. “You don't see me calling you miss human--and I have a name, thank you very much.” As he placed his gloved hand on his chest to playfully feign offense, he bit back another smile at the sound of your amused giggling.

Despite what happened a few minutes ago, talking to this actor was making you feel better already.

“And let me guess, is it Alucard?” You shook your head. “Or is it Vlad? You can't possibly call yourself Dracula looking like that.”

He blinked incredulously, then curved an arm over his face as if to cover himself with his non-existent cloak. “How did you know?”

“That your name is Alucard?”

“No, Vlad.”

“Okay, close enough. It was nice meeting you, Vlad, but I have a stupid boyfriend to scream at.” At the mention of that, you looked like you were on the verge of tears again. “All I'm hoping is that he's still my boyfriend after this. If only he were as much of a gentleman as you.”

He reflected your distress in a frown, and you would have been surprised by how much this apparently bothered him. But you already walked off. So he offered one last niceity before you strayed too far. “Good luck with your boyfriend.”

“No promises.”

He let those two words affect him more than he intended. Needless to say, he moved on quickly to watch you run to the unsuspecting brunette. Soon, his anguish was staved off by the sight of you shoving him back a few steps.

What looked like a one-sided argument broke out, and all the poor, confused man could do was just that--be confused. Shortly after, you stormed off, and he jogged behind, desperately calling your name.

A sinister smile cracked at Vlad's lips, and his irises glowed red. That little thing had no idea what was yet to happen to him.

That night, Daniel took you to the Brașov city hall for dinner. The beautiful buildings surrounding a fountain were as traditional as they were clean. Too bad your zeal was burned away by your anger. In the few hours in the hotel before, he barely managed to soothe it by explaining himself. A given, considering his explanation made no sense whatsoever.

He couldn't remember flirting with a woman.

“I think we could share a pizza. Are you okay with that?” Lifting his gaze to meet yours, you only turned away to stare out the window into the endless night. Your spaciness was deserved on his part, but little did he know, it only had so much to do with his wrongdoings.

The eccentric local never left your mind. After all, he gave you something to smile about with his whimsical kindness.

Vlad must have been an entertainer, a virtuoso at that, but his actions never came off as ingenuine. To be frank, you were drawn to his sincerity, and even looking for him subconsciously, wishing that he could magically appear because you willed it.

If only Daniel could be just as sincere.

“I must be okay with a lot of things.” His face fell. The same sorrow from when he was at the hotel room returned, but you couldn't care to give it any attention. “Like you pretending you didn't kiss someone right in front of me because you don't remember. I'm not stupid. Who else would have long hair tied back and flowers in their fringe?”

Daniel knitted his brows so tightly together, creases formed between them. “... I know it sounds like I'm lying, but I swear to you I didn't do it. You know me, (F/N).” At this point, he hadn't the foggiest what to say to appease you because he simply didn't do it. “I promise. All I'm asking is for you to trust me.”

“You promise?” You fumed.

There was only one thing you hated more than a liar.

“I trusted you, Daniel, I really did. But how could you ask me to trust you after I talked to that girl? She remembered it, so why can't you? Did you think I was that crazily into you I could let anything slide?” The biting truth silenced him, but it was the sound of you choking back tears that broke his heart.

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom to think this over.”

He had no way to argue with you, let alone the heart to when it was just broken and crushed to a thin slab of flesh. What if he really did kiss someone, and miraculously forgot?

“When I come back, I better not see you kissing anybody again.”

Standing up at that, he watched you leave with a defeated expression. Then, he folded his arms across the table and buried his face into it. There was no way he could fail that, could he?

What were the odds of kissing someone again when he had absolutely no intention to? The chances were dwindling at zero as he kept his head down. Unless supernatural forces were at work, nothing could get him to budge from sitting at this table.

But even he couldn't count on the world of the mundane to save him.

Sitting a few tables away was the exact opposite of mundane. When the front door slammed shut, he stood up and walked to the customer with their head down. While all the men in the establishment wore their hair short, his was long and flowing like time itself. There was something other-worldly about him. Something ghostly in the way he walked.

With every step he took, his feet never seemed to touch the ground as if he was floating. And his pale complexion was just as macabre as how he carried himself.

Not a minute passed, and Daniel found himself standing outside by the fountain. With absolutely no recollection, he somehow left the restaurant and wound up here in the festive courtyard. As shock paralyzed him from head to toe, the only thought that occurred to him was this. What in the hell was going on?

Rather than sitting head down in the warm restaurant, he was out here, chilled by the biting European cold. Couldn't he have at least remembered the transition?

In front of him was the same woman he supposedly flirted with in the gardens. And judging from the blush on her cheeks, he just threw away all his chances at making up with you.

“Listen, I... I don't know you. Forget me. Forget this ever happened.” Daniel trembled, feeling a chill run down his spine as he staggered back a few steps. It was like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. There was just no sound explanation for this when this situation wasn't sound at all. Whatever it was, this was clearly a case of sabotage.

And like hell he was giving in to whoever that masterminded it.

He ran back inside with a fearful kind of urgency. Rushing back to the table he unwillingly abandoned, he froze when he saw you marching towards him down the aisle with murder on your mind. But death was too lenient a punishment. It would grant him a clean slate, a new beginning from a past life of unfaithfulness.

So he was splashed with a glass of red wine instead.

As the crimson liquid soaked his hair, it spread over his shirt like blood. After you saw what he did, the last shred of hope you didn't know you had died, squelched out there on his clothes for the world to see. A chorus of gasps was heard from every corner of the restaurant. Unbeknownst to the patrons who murmured amongst themselves, it wasn't just any lover's quarrel they were watching.

Daniel's breath hitched as he struggled to process his mortification. Behind you stood the very gentleman that tapped him awake, but he never made the connection between him and his misfortunes.

And perhaps, it was better that way.

After leaving your boyfriend for good, Vlad offered to walk with you around the city. Once again, he had swooped in to save you, only this time around, he was staying.

“So... What are you gonna do now?” He asked, casting a tender gaze your way. Before you could wrap your arms around yourself, he beat you to it and flung his cloak around your body. When you gawked at him, he only grinned toothily with his fangs.

Your cheeks reddened and you turned away. Why he was still in his vampire getup was beyond you. But seeing his enthusiasm only reminded you that you lost yours. “... Book another hotel room. Spend the rest of this holiday crying. Maybe never think of this country ever again.”

“And I'm not letting you do any of those things.” He hummed, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Why do you think I'm walking with you right now, hm? I'm gonna take you around to the best spots in Transylvania. The most haunted ones, I mean. So you can forget about going back to the hotel.”

You sighed but managed a small smile. “That's great and all, but I'm not made of money. And my stuff is all there.”

He squinted. “... Oh yeah. But after we get your stuff, we can go elsewhere, can't we?”

A few laughs fell from your lips. His generosity really knew no bounds. “Your house, then? You do realize I only met you today, right?”

Vlad closed his eyes. He could beg to differ.

“But you're still walking with me alone. In the dark.”

“Only because you saw me cry twice today. I wouldn't be mad if you killed me so I don't have to be so embarrassed.” He frowned at the sound of that, so you added this. “I was just kidding. Something about you just makes me feel... Strangely comfortable. Like I've met you before. Isn't that weird?”

“... Not really.” Reaching the top of a hill, he stared at an old castle in the distance, sitting high up in the mountains. “There's a legend about this city. Hundreds of years ago, a vampire and a human woman fell in love. She died, of course. But people say he's still around, waiting for her to reincarnate so they can be together again.”

The way he spoke was so sad, it was almost as if he was that very vampire himself. But what did that have to do with you?

“... Okay. Then do you think he'll ever find her?”

Vlad turned to you with an unreadable expression, but there was an untold fondness in how he looked at you.

“He already has.”

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