#(some of you i hovered over that follow button for an silly amount of time before going fuck it and read/reread pages multiple times)

[godzexperiment]

[ tangerine ]  do you speak other languages? if yes, which?

[ mint ]  when did you start your blog? what made you start it?

[ amber ]  which is your favorite season? why?

🐝  *  ―  𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑭𝑼𝑳 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑾. ( send one or more of these to get to know the person behind the blog a little better. ) *still accepting*

[ tangerine ]  do you speak other languages? if yes, which?: not really, an word here or there depending/maybe an few asl signs but that's really the jest of it/what sticks to the dart board [ mint ]  when did you start your blog? what made you start it?:

this one just an few months ago. i was rewatching d.ominion, in an writing mood and finally had nix fully piece together out of nowhere. thought about old silly old rp antics as well... and it's fun just allowing myself to be so passionate about this idiot? to send people memes, to try encouraging just silly fun vibes and be like hi yes I for one genuinely want to hear even the most useless seeming little hcs you have about your muse(s). cuz!!! it's nice. it's fun to be like 'okay but our muses singing showtunes at 4am when sleep deprived'. plus stabbing at my social anxiety that's especially formed to tragic amounts more than was already... so that i could be more able to send memes, talk ooc on my other rp blogs as well and follow active rpers that seem neat when I see them,etc... just overall in the name of fun, growth and well nix occupies so much of my brain cuz he's very much the passion project so opened the door up. [ amber ]  which is your favorite season? why?:

i- dont have one? but fall is neat, has good temps generally/pretty scenery and halloween. the leaves changing color; atmosphere overall and hot chocolate, seasonal snacks but none of the winter ick.

[notnctu]

push & pull | kim doyoung

❀ slytherin!doyoung x hufflepuff!femreader ❀ genre - SLOW BURN, smut, fluff, a bit of humor (idk not rlly) ❀ details -  hogwarts!au, fwb to lovers?, y/n is a player lol, jealous doyoung, mutual pining, doyoung is a lil mean ❀ word count - 9.7k ❀ warnings - explicit language, possessiveness (a concept of marking), dom!doyoung, angry sex?, slight dirty talk, penetration, fingering, praise kink ❀ synopsis - in which a prideful slytherin and an oblivious hufflepuff play a clueless emotion game of tug of war.

❝I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?❞  

❝People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you pursue me?❞ ❀ a/n - i changed the plot a little bit as i was writing lol but hopefully it still fits everything! i said this in the teaser, but i want to preface and say that the magic/marking is not canon to harry potter, and that the only thing im using are the sectional houses/subjects. besides that, everything is made up LMAO also pls b lenient with me, i read hogwarts!au but writing it is very out of my comfort zone and am very bad at creating anything magical 

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Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, mindlessly and imperfectly steals glances your way across the dining tables and under several hundred floating lit candles. He sits huddled with his few posh friends that wear the same green and silver tie situated so tightly underneath their necks. And you, just looking as dazzling as ever, with your yellow and black tie hanging loose and a few buttons undone from your dress shirt.

He hates how easily you catch his attention and his ability to spot your figure in a dense crowd. You barely even look his way in public now, often distracted by a broad Gryffindor that tries to make flirtatious advantages at you. And when he thinks it can’t get any worse, it does… as you’re flashing your bright beautiful smile back at him and the shift in your body language.

“You’re staring again.” Yuta flickers between his friend and the subject of his focus.

Doyoung clears his throat, smooths his tie and physically turns his body away from the horrendous scene. “It’s very hard not to stare when she’s flirting with other men in front of me.”

“Does she do it on purpose?” The silver haired boy raises a questionable eyebrow and Doyoung reacts before he can speak.

He perks up and narrows his eyes at Yuta. “Purpose? Like to make me jealous?” Doyoung scoffs, laughs almost at the ridiculous thought. “The answer is no. We’re not exclusive, we’re nothing.”

“If you two are nothing, then why are you acting like you two are something? Get a grip, it’s practically sickening watching you fume over a ditzy Hufflepuff.” As Yuta prepares to bite into his delicious soft bread roll, it flies out of his grip, down the long table and onto another person’s plate.

Both boys are quick to stand to their feet and face each other chest to chest. Neither one of them is intimidated by the other, but their other friends around them are rather shocked by the sudden discrepancy.

Doyoung forcibly brushes off an imaginary dust off his good friend’s shoulders and draws a perfectly strained fake smile, knowing that others may be watching and he is a Prefect after all. But most importantly, you could be watching. “Call her that again, and your dinner won’t be the only thing that’s thrown across the table.” His threat is loud enough solely for Yuta to hear.

Yuta, with glaring eyes, picks up his dinner tray and walks off with his chin held high and a brisk in his stride. Doyoung clears his throat in the midst of the brief silence and out of habit, fixes his tie back in place. He takes a seat back down and the chatter at the table resumes, but he’s beyond embarrassed and disappointed at his loss of temper that everything drowns out.

Almost everything. He feels a light tap on his shoulder and out of annoyance, he spins around hastily and sharply snarls, “what?” But his eyes land on your fearful wide eyes and the slight cower in your stance, knowing that you caught onto his bad mood. And he’s half in disbelief that you’re approaching him right in the center of the Great Hall, that you’re standing so beautiful a foot away from him.

Instant regret and guilt fills his chest, his sharp eyes soften at your pout and the concerned furrow in between your brows. Nonetheless, he doesn’t have any words to say… he can’t get himself to apologize for his behavior.

“Do you want to walk to Herbology with me?” The quiver in your voice made you seem so small, so desperate for him, that he can hear the reactions of his friends. They’re laughing, at him, at you, at the whole scene that’s unfolding. He feels mocked, being a laughing stock isn’t something he’s very fond of.

His lips form a tight line, and in a snarky tone, “you don’t know your own way, Puff? Mind you ask your own Prefect to guide you.” Fuck. He tried to find the nicest way possible to brush you off, but his friends laugh a bit louder and intensely. And you didn’t like that one bit.

Your lips part slightly in a frown, an eyebrow raised and a hand on your hip. You look as if you’re ready to attack him, to jinx him, to probably pinch at his skin. But he knows you, and you’d do none of the above. Instead, you say the one threat that causes his heart to sink into the pit of his stomach, “don’t talk to me in class.” You’re slipping away from him as you pick up your pace, exiting all the commotion in the Great Hall.

He tries to hide the disappointment that stems from his chest, and his heart beats with an inexplicable dull pain. All he can think about is the twist of your expression and he’s gathering his things rather quickly to follow after you, without even a bid goodbye to his clique.

Without any knowledge of what you two do behind closed doors and the complex history that you two share, one may view your relationship as practically nonexistent; you two are strangers, barely passing acquaintances. 

Doyoung does not approach you in the halls, in anywhere that necessarily has many witnesses. You smile at him, maybe even a wave depending on your mood, but no one questions it … as you wave at almost everyone who passes by you.

Classmates might see interaction during the one class you two share, if they pay attention close enough. However, you and Doyoung are much more to each other than passing acquaintances. Although he’s starting to see himself as another name on your list of individuals you sleep with, you are much more to him than you could ever know.

He’ll never forget the first time you two met. He was patrolling the halls for anyone lurking past curfew with his nose dug deep in his heavy book on magical creatures, when you walked right into him and caused the both of you to fall to the granite.

He was beyond ready to dock off points for whoever the rule breaker may be, but you took his breath away when you hovered above him and clasped your palm over his mouth before he can scold anyone. You looked a bit frazzled as your hair was all over the place and he noticed your minimal amount of clothing in the middle of a cold winter night.

He saw the signature Hufflepuff badge on your thin sweater and the sound of your voice completely threw him off his tracks.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper at the stunned Prefect underneath you, whose body feels warm against your own. But your eyes remain frantically on the lookout for anyone else passing, despite the lack of light in the cobblestone hallway. You most definitely do not belong in this wing of the castle and knocking down a Prefect caused more of a problem in your escape route.

Quickly standing up, you lend your hand out for him to take. His long fingers accept your hold as he pulls himself up and dusts the dirt off his robe. His green emblem glows in the dim light and you’re internally screaming at the mess you just made for yourself. But you recognize his features: the sharpness in his eyes, the small curves of the corners of his lips, his neatly parted black hair.

“You’re in some deep---”

“---Kim Doyoung.” The boy freezes at the sound of his name and he blinks at you, curious as to where you know of him. Being a Prefect has its small perks of popularity, but he didn’t expect for it to go this far. “Y/N, we had brooms together.”

As he repeats your name and examines your pretty features, a light bulb goes off in his head. “The clumsy Hufflepuff that fell off her broom in the highest altitude?”

“If that’s how you remember me by.” You smile proudly, and he scoffs at how someone could possibly hold pride in something so silly. “It’s nice to see you around, you’re a Prefect! Wow! That’s incredible.”

“And you’re still as clumsy as you were a year ago. Falling all over the place.”

“Unfortunately, some things don’t change! But you certainly have.” Doyoung looks at you with hooded eyes and a cautious gaze, but you’re so outlandishly bold despite swaying with your hands behind your back. “Please, don’t take that the wrong way. I meant it as a compliment! I used to have a tiny crush on you, baseless, but you helped me catch my broomstick and I’ll never be able to forget that.”

Doyoung, unknowingly, lights up at your shameless confession and takes another good look at you. You're much more mature now, and if he stared into your alluring gaze any longer, he’d be completely mesmerized without the need of a love potion. “So you liked me over a meaningless chivalrous act?”

“I liked you because you were charming and yes, perhaps I am someone who finds attractiveness in men who are chivalrous. There’s nothing wrong with that.” You bat your sweet eyelashes at him so endearingly, and he’s a blushing mess all over the place.

Doyoung has had anonymous love letters passed on from his friends, but they were all Slytherins who yearned greedily to be associated with his status. So knowing that a Hufflepuff, with an innocent youthful approach to love, festered some form of infatuation with him does flatter him quite well. “I’ll let you go.”

You’re about to exhale an exasperated sigh of relief until Doyoung continues, “under one condition.”

“Okay, I’ll do anything.” Your gleaming eyes sparkle like stars paired with the night sky.

He rolls his eyes at you, “don’t be so quick to jump at conditions without hearing them first.” Doyoung groans and you passively brush off his comment.

“If it’s harmless, I’ll do it.”

And in the dead of the night, where only you two stand in the middle of an empty cobblestone hallway, Doyoung requests, “I want to see you again.”

Although that night marked the beginning of your friendship, public interactions were still scarce and this was mainly on the fault of Doyoung. The times you met were late nights past curfew where he was stationed at and he grew to enjoy your wondrous personality. This boy grew up in a Slytherin bubble his whole life, no one outside of his house ever dared approached him … at least, not with the warmest smile as yours.

You were everything he was not, but he liked it so much. You were a half that completed his whole, and there were growing pains he couldn’t confide in anyone else. Surprisingly, you knew his imperfections more than he did himself and yet, you still wanted to be around him to encourage him. Not to mention, you had a sudden growth in other parts of your body and formed into your features very beautifully.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed, as there were more male counterparts who smiled at you, talked about you, fawned over you. And he felt something heighten inside of him along with his existing romantic feelings, and that he began seeing you in a new light.

With you experiencing new things, like hand holding and being showered by love letters on Valentine’s Day, it was wrong of him to fester such envy over the ones who publicly adorned you. He was so blinded by his hot headed rage that he completely missed the fact that you never accepted anyone who confessed, maybe the hand holding, but everyone else was a complete rejection.

All this time, you had been waiting for him and when you two shared your first kiss together, you had an assumption that Doyoung was going to finally confess that he felt the same way. But he never did. You two did, however, further your relationship into something more intimate and taking each other’s virginities opened a whole pathway of possibilities --- none being one where you two end up officially together.

He was the first to sleep with someone else, that was his first of many mistakes that he was going to make in his relationship with you. It also became the drop of the needle for you to start seeing other people as well, to explore what Doyoung couldn’t offer, to rid yourself of the feelings you had for a boy that didn’t seem like he wanted anything more.

Chivalry was dead and Doyoung believed that the innocent youthful Hufflepuff love had disappeared from within you.

As his present day runs after you, you’re abruptly stopped by a Ravenclaw for a small chat. Damn you Hufflepuffs for being friendly and social. So, he rushes past the two of you and into the classroom to await for your arrival. The quick shade of green flashes by your side and you’re fuming incredibly at how Doyoung continues to play you like a harp.

When you slide into your assigned seat next to him, he goes off like a canon. Doyoung starts spewing backhanded excuses and endless shameless rambles about his behavior. “I told you. Don’t talk to me during class or I will jinx you. Won’t be able to talk with your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.”

“You’re not going to jinx me.” With a subtle flick of his wrist, your chair is pulled closer to his. “And if you were to do so, you wouldn’t do something so cynical.” Yelping at the abrupt usage of his magic, you’re irritably pressing your ink into your journal with a newfound annoyance.

“You’re right. I’d turn you into a duck, so at least, you’re still cute to look at.” The mindless scribbles on the paper make no sense in your head, as you’re primarily zoned in on the disrupted energy you have about your Slytherin companion. These ill feelings make you almost sick, wanting to shut out any bad replay of the moments before and forgetting about the attention you seek so much from Doyoung.

“For you to successfully cast a jinx on me, you must make eye contact first.” His finger lifts your chin and you’re eye to eye with his lustful dark stare. Doyoung licks his lips, a shine shimmers from his saliva, and he’s tempted to bring you into his chambers for an intimacy he’s been craving. “My, oh my. You’re looking very charmed today.” A grin curves up and taunts you, and you’re blinking away down at the table.

“Doyoung, we’re in class. Please, focus.” Your desperate whisper turns into a whine once his cold hand slyly smooths over your bare knee.

“Are you free later tonight?” Doyoung peers over at your side profile and your skin feels soft at his fingertips. He’s imagining your intoxicating scent mixing with his sheets, your light playful kisses along his neck, and gripping onto every naked part of you. For a whole minute, he’s forgotten that he’s in class with other no name individuals and a boring professor. He has tunnel vision whenever he’s with you.

“I have an arrangement.” The grip on your knee tightens at your quiet answer. An arrangement.

“The Gryffindor who had leafy greens in between his teeth?” Doyoung treads lightly, because you’re both well aware he’s made harsher insults than that. He retrieves his hand and picks up his pen as if he’s never touched you.

He sees your head shake out of the corner of his eye, you’re rolling your lips together sheepishly. There’s something odd about your stance and he’s growing a bit more curious…. A bit more spiteful at how closed off you are being. There’s something you’re hiding from him. “Then, who?”

“Is there something you’d like to discuss with the class, Mr. Kim? If not, I’d like for everyone to head over to the greenhouse.” As the class slightly snickers and the classroom empties, you and Doyoung are stopped by your professor.

Professor Sprout, wearing her worn out Dragon hide gloves and a thin lined smile, shoves a potted plant into Doyoung’s hands, “behave, you two. Your conversations are never very secret when spoken aloud.” She gives both of you a warning before proceeding out along with the rest of the class.

Doyoung scoffs at the absurd encounter and rolls his eyes. “Ah, you’re getting me in trouble with you now.”

“I’m sorry, Doyoung. It’s better that you don’t know.” You say this every time, when will you realize that keeping your hookups a secret only causes him more agony? He catches your wrist as you both exit the corridors, he barely ever has you alone now. And to say the least, he fucking misses you.

“Spare me some of your time after class.” He’s disgusted by himself, knowing that his eyes are begging for you to say yes. Him, a highly admired Slytherin, has settled for scraps and if anyone knew, they’d never let him live.

Your hand gently clasps over his and when you look up with your starry eyes, something inside him feels at peace. “Did you miss me?” He gulps at your question and blinks at you like a deer in headlights. If said by anyone else, he would not hesitate to snap his fingers into a malicious spell. But you ask the million dollar question so sweetly, there’s no taunt… there’s no mockery in your tone. It’s full of genuine curiosity.

So, he answers you with part of his heart that you know too well. “Unfortunately.” His body falls slightly in defeat, and suddenly the potted plant is alive in his hands. It’s wailing a dangerous and annoying loud cry, completely ruining the moment.

Doyoung quizzically ponders the monstrous green plant and its magical capabilities puzzle him, possibly reminding him to pay more attention to the actual curriculum than on your unbuttoned shirt.

Moreover, your giggle surprisingly calms him in this stressful situation and you lightly pat his hand that’s still gripping your wrist. “I’m all yours after class.” 

Taking the wretched plant, you hurry off toward the greenhouse to find someone to diffuse the crying creature. Doyoung laughs in disbelief at your comical animated figure running around with a pot over your head and shouting for any student to help you. So you’re not paying attention in class either?

Doyoung takes you to your favorite place, despite the rule that you’re not allowed access to it. The Prefect Bathroom remains spotlessly clean and fresh paired with an immediate scent of rosewater and wild honeysuckle. The white polished marble gleams prettily under the twinkling diamond chandeliers and you’re twirling enthusiastically in the center of the large undressing area.

He observes and smiles widely to himself at the sight of your happiness and cute giggles. It’s always a risk to have you use their bathroom, but he is always abusing his privilege to seek your enjoyment that he truly doesn’t care about anything else. Your morality has beaten him enough and he’s heard plenty about his wrongdoings, yet here you are… sweetly dancing in the one place that’s absolutely wrong. Perhaps, you two have rubbed off a little too much on one another.

“I can never get sick of this place.” As you plead to Doyoung to cast a bubble bath, you’re already stripping out of your skirt. He shields his eyes to give you some privacy and recites the charm to run hot dazzling water in the ginormous pool. A nice soothing bath is exactly what you two need after a stressful day playing in the dirt.

“This is your favorite place.” says Doyoung with a matter of fact edge to this tone.

“It’s my favorite place because I only get to come here with you.” You jump on his back and he hoists you up by your thighs. His heart skips a happy tune. “I refuse for you to tell me the password, even if you do wish for me to enjoy the simple pleasures of a bubble bath.”

“You and your right and wrongs.” With eager hands, you’re loosening his tie from around his neck. “You stripped so fast that you’re going to get a cold.”

“It’s going to get steamy really soon. Plus, I know you like me best without any clothes on.” Your hot breath tickles the shell of his ear and a blush scatters across Doyoung’s cheek. Button after button, his open shirt exposes his toned build. He sets you on the edge of the elevated step before the bath.

Doyoung smirks at your nakedness and your hot lustful expression. Leaning in until he’s practically breathing against your lips, he stares straight into your eyes. “My Puff knows me best.” And dives into you with all his soul. Fruitful drags of his lips along yours, his long tongue enters your mouth. His large hand carefully caresses your cheek to pull you further into the kiss, noses pressing into skin and with a desire to never part.

His heart swells lovingly, kissing you feels like the best thing in the world. There are no tricks, no spells, no recited charms, but you are more than magical. The same surge of energy runs through his veins, but unlike his impressive ability as a notable wizard, he can’t control it. You make him lose control. As meticulous and cautious as he is, you’re the first thing he doesn’t think through.

Your needy hands push off his dress shirt and he hurriedly unbuckles his belt. When you break the kiss, he automatically pouts and pulls you back in for one more lingering peck. “Are you going to scrub my back for me?” You smile, dragging him closer to the overflowing bathtub.

Large puffs of white bubbles spill from the rims and disappear with your every step. It reminds you of sea foam that washes upon the shore, with a floral fragrant that fills your lungs. “That’s quite an intimate gesture, but yes.”

After removing all his garments, he joins you in the large pool of glossy bubbles and the clouds of steam that rises from the water suffocates him warmly. He sits with his back against the wall and eyes unwavering on your alluring expression. 

The bubbles do a great job at covering your breasts, but his sneaky hands snake under the water to grip them. Doyoung grabs a full tit and thumbs over your erect nipple, all while he holds the most sensual gaze with you. Slowly, you naturally end up in his hold and your wet back relaxes against his chest.

The beating of his heart is too loud and surely, you can feel the way it jumps out of his chest. Doyoung attaches his lips on your skin and as you’re melting at his harsh suckling. However, you perk up and snap out of your dazed arousal at the realization of his purposeful licks. “You’re trying to mark me?”

His hand continues to rub and twist your aching nipples. The sensation stimulating the growth of pleasure to sprout below and your mind to wander. 

“Possibly.”

A lovers’ mark is the ultimate testament of mutual love. Engraving the skin with your beloved’s Patronus, wherever the giver chooses to mark. Love emblems are meant to be something sacred to the couple, a way to make someone completely untouchable to everyone else. Not only does the symbol glow with an iridescent shine whenever love is felt, it also numbs any romantic feelings for all others besides the partner.

Besides the use of possessiveness, it’s a beautiful way to discover one true love since the engraving of their Patronus shows up on the skin under the conditions that both individuals must be madly in love with one another. And if it doesn’t end up forming, the receiver is left with a bright, sparkling star hue in its place before fading away completely. If it does appear, it fades when both fall out of love.

“Doyoung--” His name falls from your lips as a moan and he’s running down to explore the beauty between your legs. “--can’t do that unless you actually want to commit to me.”

“I am committed to you.” The more your neck cranes off to the side and exposed to him, the more he wishes to etch the symbol of his love for everyone to see. A hand is hooked under your thigh to keep your legs spread open and you’re gasping at the slight pressure from the water.

“Romantically committed to me.” You remind him, but your train of thought is cut fairly short as Doyoung begins rubbing circles on your needy clit.

“You’re afraid of it showing up?” He’s lathering your breasts with bubbles and dragging his long finger along your slit. His greediness overtakes him and with wandering hands, he’s gripping every part of you that they can reach. Doyoung’s guilty pleasure is always going to any form of physical affection from you specifically. When he finally gets ahold of you, it’s hard for him to let go.

Your warm skin is delicate and smooth beneath the very tips of his fingers and every exploration of your terrain makes him feel inexplicable explosions of fondness. Perhaps, you’ve captivated him and although he believed it would take something as extreme as the Amortentia to have him falling for someone, you did it as easily as being yourself. His better half.

So, he’s impressed by your genuineness and how he’s willing to give up parts of his reputation to unapologetically be himself around you. No one else matters, nothing else matters, but why must it be so difficult to tell you that?

“I’m afraid of it not showing up.” You’re more than convinced that Doyoung has confused his strong sense of lust with love and there would be no possible way his Patronus would appear. It’s better to save the embarrassment for the both of you.

Spinning in his arms, the water twirls to the curves of your body and he’s admiring parts that expose above the surface. He’s matched with your beauty before him, resemblance to the stained glass window that situates above the large bathroom.

However, the doubt in your statement finally reaches his ears and he’s grabbing your ass as you settle over his thighs again. His furrowed eyebrows bring together a rather upset expression --- lip pout and all.

“Why wouldn’t it show up?” Doyoung puzzles, bringing your arms to wrap around his neck. Leaning into him, your pruney fingers trace his smooth chin and he notices your quick flicker between his eyes and his lips.

While your gentle kiss reassures him of your subtle endearment, your next words do the opposite. “You tell me.” All you do is push him away with your vague doubtfulness, like you’re constantly testing him and using his poor guessing skills to your own advantage. He can pull you close after any altercation he wants, but you push him away in any emotionally romantic sense.

“You’re rather mischievous and mysterious today,” Doyoung squeezes your ass and smacks it lightly, causing ripples in the water. “I liked it better when you told me everything you felt.”

Suddenly, his fingers poke at your entrance and his other hand drops in between your legs again. Your mouth opens in shock when his long fingers enter slowly and he enjoys the pleasurable contour of your reactions. “Like this, for example.” The pad of his fingers working rapid flicks against your sensitive bud. “How does this feel?” His whisper dances across your shoulder, landing a kiss at the end of his question.

Your moans echo in the lavish bathroom, bouncing off the marble walls and encouraging Doyoung to keep a steady pace. There’s no worry about how loud you may be, Doyoung charms every room before every lustful encounter. This allows you to let go, let free, let him know how he makes you feel.

He curves his fingers into you, pumping and dragging into your tightness until you’re practically screaming. He only has one thought, as his eyes trail down your intoxicated needy figure, how beautiful you are as a moaning mess under his control. Your head is thrown back, eyes are squeezed shut and opening them to see nothing but tiny yellow starlight.

Dainty kisses line your exposed neck line and his ego swells with so much pride. Doyoung has mastered every flick of his wrist to have you under his trance, spewing nonsensical words and forgetting anyone else that exists. He gives your erect nipples harsh licks and with a faint drag of teeth, the sensation pushes you to your end.

Sporadic pleasurable convulsions cause your legs to close around Doyoung’s hands, but the strength of his knee keeps them apart. “Doyoung… I’m going to free fall.”

Leave it up to you to beautifully announce your climax. He snickers, applying more pressure on your clit and a rubbing motion against your walls. “I’ll catch you.”

Moon crescents embed into his skin as you’re holding onto him with your whole life. As your scream hits every octave, the massive collection of bubbles that cover the surface of the bath fly and splatter every corner of the pristine room. 

White and wet bubbles drip down from the walls, falling from the diamond chandeliers, and coating every steamy mirror. Doyoung’s eyes light up from the chaos, making sure you’re riding out your high for as long as he can provide.

Your body trembles with euphoria, falling forward into Doyoung’s chest and squeezing around his lazily pumping fingers. For a brief second, your mind is wiped and nothing in the world feels better than being in this perfect moment with the one person who’s Patronus you hoped would etch your skin.

If one possesses feelings that are practically unbearable to contain, one should confess… right? For all your life, you’ve lived by this statement. Friends do not hear the end of it and most surely, one should follow their own advice… right?

So why do you yearn for Doyoung in your gaze as he stands across the Great Hall as if he doesn’t know of your existence? As if he wasn’t kissing you in the Prefect bathroom a few days prior?

It’s not an understatement to say that you catch the attention of almost every person in the room, but the one head that refuses to turn your way… the one who’s looks you wish to steal… is the one person who looks right through you.

Feelings have become a nuisance ever since the first time you confessed to him and it was worse than landing on cobblestone after falling off your broom. The reason why you’ve buried them deeper than any chamber is that you’re positive that the prized Slytherin would rather be with another, preferably one from his own house.

While you try to remain optimistic and playful for the time being, you’re simply replaceable to him. He can barely care to acknowledge you in public when Gryffindors boast about you in their arms like winning a trophy. You’ve kept good relations with every Ravenclaw you’ve slept with. You’ve kindly rejected every romantic gesture another Hufflepuff has offered.

But if there is one thing you’ve learned about him is that he’s lived in his Slytherin circle for as long as he lives. And it will stay that way. You’re his sweet Hufflepuff that he’ll push away at no cost, then pull you back in secrecy.

Now if one feels as if they’re wasting their time, one should leave… right? Wrong. Kim Doyoung has skewed with your morality… and your feelings remain loyal to him since the day he confessed to see you again.

“Lemon-drop, I’ve been looking all over for you.” An arm slings around your shoulders and the notable red and gold tie is the first thing you see. Jung Jaehyun, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, flashes his deep dimples at you. “Walk with me.”

He extends his palm out for you to take and your friends painfully elbow your sides to wake you from your hesitation. Taking his hand, you get up from the dining table and follow him out the Great Hall.

Doyoung sees the scene unfold before him and rolls his eyes at how Jaehyun’s dimples are all it takes to have you wandering off with him. Despite every wicked intent to follow you two, he heads out in the direction of the dormitories to fume in his room.

“It’s such a nice and sunny day today.” Jaehyun runs a hand through his luscious brown locks. You both exit into the front courtyard as other students are scattered on the lawns mingling with one another. When you peer up at the sky, the sun is barely seen past the layers of clouds.

“Jaehyun, is there something you needed to speak with me about?” His laughter roars, full of hefty song and amusement.

“Listen, lemon-drop. I like you and I have a feeling you feel the same way. I want to mark you if you’d let me.” Jaehyun smirks and just as he brings your hand up for a kiss, you gently let go. “Am I coming off too strong? We don’t have to do it today, I just wanted to see if it would show.”

“Jaehyun, you’re going to find an extravagant person one day. A person who is going to know all your favorite castle balconies to swing from and how you like to be kissed on the nose.” His ears grow a bright red and for once, his gaze drops to the ground. “I am, unfortunately, not that person for you so I must kindly reject your confession.”

As you turn on your toes, Jaehyun lightly holds your wrist to stop you. “But, you know all those things about me. Is there anything I can do to prove that we belong together?”

“I know them because I care enough to remember things you tell me, not because I loved you enough to observe these things about you. I give you my word that there is nothing you can do to prove me otherwise.” The corners of his lips dip downward and you’re running to the one person that will erase this sad rejection from your memory.

When you’re scanning the Great Hall for any sign of him, he’s not there and it leads you to his only hiding place. Doyoung loves to shut himself out from the rest of the school whenever he gets the chance. However, a lost Hufflepuff wandering outside the entrance of the Slytherin dormitories is rather an odd sight to see and you haven’t had the chance to form many connections from this house.

The sparse amount of Slytherins you know aren’t going to be passing by, unless with some stroke of luck, someone will be kind enough to open the door for you. Every person passes by you with questionable stares until a silver haired boy blinks at you with wide eyes.

“Who is it that you’re trying to see?” He asks abrasively, but softens his tone when he realizes that you mean no harm.

You bid him a small grin, “your Prefect.”

“And what for?”

“There is an urgent matter that involves him and he’s practically unreachable when he’s hiding away in his private room.” The boy narrows his eyes at you, but beckons you to follow him down to the Slytherin dungeon.

Excitedly, you hurry behind him and whisper over his shoulder, “what’s your name?”

“Nakamoto Yuta. No need to tell me yours, I’ll doubt he’d want me to know.” He spits and then, mutters the enchanted password to reveal the large green common room. “Come this way.” He leads up the boys’ dorms and walks briskly. Although you never mentioned a name, Yuta seems to already know who you’re here to see and it makes you wonder how he must know.

“Open up.” Yuta stops and knocks at the wooden door, Kim Doyoung written in a fancy penmanship on the center. “You have a guest.” He looks your way before rolling his eyes at Doyoung’s irritated tone through the other side.

“Tell them to leave.”

“He wants you to leave.” Yuta repeats, mostly to satisfy Doyoung’s nag.

“That’s fine. Thank you for bring---” The door swings open abruptly and Yuta almost loses his balance. Doyoung frantically turns his head side to side to comprehend what he is seeing. His ears felt deceived, hearing your voice through the door, he had to make sure it wasn’t you.

But you stand before him and Yuta. Here you are approaching him whenever he least expects it. “What are you doing here?”

“I came by to see you. I’ve been here plenty of times.”

“What are you doing bringing her in?” scolds Doyoung and the other boy shrugs carelessly.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her bat puppy eyes at several other Slytherins and have her telling everyone who passes her that she came here to see our Prefect? It was also getting cold out.” Yuta mumbles, but finds great entertainment at seeing how frazzled Doyoung has gotten by your presence.

“It was a bit chilly.” You admit and Doyoung groans, pulling you into his room and shutting the door on Yuta. “Thank you, Yuta.” You whisper through the crack between the door frame.

“It’s too risky for you to be searching for me around other Slytherins.” Doyoung paces the room and you notice his tie is loose and shirt is unbuttoned around his neck. “Why are you here?”

“A Gryffindor blew me off. I thought I’d come and see you with all the free time I can get.” Taking a seat at the end of his neatly made bed, your legs swing adorably and Doyoung almost doesn’t hear you.

“Jaehyun? Does he think he’s too good for you or something? That cocky dimple Gryffindor, with the draw of my wand---” Doyoung whips out his intricately customized Dragon Heartstring, and you’re on your feet to calm his temper down.

“Will you put that thing away? I’m here for you.” Your giggle warms his tight chest and puts out the fueling flame for anyone who dares to hurt you in any way. “It’s not a big deal and it’s not the first time it has happened.”

Doyoung uncomfortably clears his throat and withdraws his wand. Buttoning up his shirt, he fixes his tie back in place. To say the least, your words erupted his festering jealousy and this may have been a small tipping point.

Before you had entered, he was so frustrated with himself and you. You can just walk away with another man without a second thought, in front of him too. He remembered the soft feeling of your body and how he’s not the only one who’s needy hands ran their course over you. That may be the one pain he can never get rid of.

“I never understood why you give other men the time of your day when they just brush you off undeservingly.” He stings and you’re slightly surprised at his sudden attack. When you respond in silence, he continues.“I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?”

Crossing your arms, your weight is barred on your left leg and there is a shift in your overall mood. With an eyebrow raised, you sass him back, “People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you chase after me?”

Doyoung swallows hard and blinks at you speechless. A clammy hand runs through his black strands as he tries to find any possible explanation without confessing his feelings. If he had a plan to confess, it would never be in the middle of an inquisition with you.

“I guess you didn’t think before acting on your desires.” And how he hated how correct that statement is. He doesn’t ever think whenever he’s around you. All his actions are conducted with his emotions and the feelings that overtake him.

Doyoung scoffs, rolling his eyes at your rash comment. “Aren’t you supposed to have the strongest morality among all the houses?”

“Sleeping with multiple men isn’t morally wrong. There’s nothing wrong with it…” The slight hurt from his question is difficult to ignore, but you must remember one thing if you want to protect your heart on your sleeve. This is nothing serious to be bickering over. You two aren’t anything serious, so why feel the need to squabble over nonsense? “... it would only be wrong if someone liked me and wished to commit to me.”

Your eyes meet and Doyoung blinks at you with wide eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he gulps again, completely whiplashed at how the conversation has turned. “And if that’s the case and you like me, would that make you jealous, Doyoung? That’s why you’re trying to poorly attack my character?” He’s never heard such a strong taunt in your tone and he’s baffled by it, slightly aroused, but shocked.

“I don’t like you.” His voice is small and he pouts his lips at you. Doyoung crosses his arms and perhaps, his sad expression reveals a little more than it should have. Your heart softens at his ridiculously cute response, had you expected something much more angry and vindictive.

“Then this conversation is over, right? I’ll be on my way now. I have herbology.”

“We have the same class.” He grumbles, grabbing his robe from his desk chair.

You open the door to make your exit, “but since you don’t want to be seen with a Hufflepuff, I’ll go ahead first.” When you stumble out into the hallway, a recognizable face brightens at your appearance.

“Haechan! Hello, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You’re cheering and Doyoung chews the inside of his cheek. His pride is left at the door and along with all the things that hold him back from you, he doesn’t want to push you away anymore.

“My favorite Hufflepuff, are you just leaving?” Haechan walks up to open his arms, wishing to embrace you in the longest hug. However, Doyoung quickly takes you by your hand and rushes past him.

“She came to walk with me to class. Bye Haechan.” And Haechan is left standing in the middle of the hallway, confused and watching your backs as you’re both briskly walking out the common room.

Doyoung looks back at you, “you think I’m going to let you walk out of my room and have another Slytherin walk you to class? Don’t be so foolish.”

But you are foolish. Your heart beats foolishly and loudly for Kim Doyoung. And may you be foolish enough to wonder if his heart does the same for you.

And it does. Foolishly. Loudly. Lovingly.

You both wonder if this vicious cycle will ever meet its end. Doyoung pushes you away by ignoring your existing relationship, but pulls you back into his embrace as if it never happened. You push him away by running off with other men, but come back to him as if he’s the one person you’re loyal to.

But on this particular night, after mass circulation of rumors reaches the ears of the lovesick Slytherin, Doyoung is pulling you away from your huddled group of friends in the middle of the long corridor hallways. Without any greeting, any spoken words, he’s dragging you to his room right in front of everyone to see. His hand around yours like it was two days prior, but with an expression so grave on his sullen face.

The silence between you two brings no comfort, but you don’t dare say the first words. Doyoung, finally, approached you first in public and it is possibly for a greater reason. Perhaps you’ve done something horribly wrong, and the moment you two step into his room that you’ll hear a mouthful.

However when he closes the door to his room, your hand immediately drops from his embrace and he turns to face you. There is a darkness in his eyes, one that light cannot touch, and his lips are tight in a line.

There is an eerie silence that fills the dark room and the murky windows paint the area an ominous green. Doyoung focuses on your confused, yet adorable expression. “Why did you lie to me?”

The door catches your slight stumble and you’re blinking cluelessly at him. “About what?”

“Jaehyun.” He breathes the name in spite and aggressively loosens his tie. “He didn’t blow you off. You rejected him and he’s telling everyone it's because you’re in love with someone else.”

You scorn at such a ridiculous rumor and for the fact that it’s even made its way around to Doyoung. Another realization hits you. All it took for him to approach you in public is a meaningless rumor.

So in response, you laugh and it mocks him further. “This is not a laughing matter, y/n.”

“I’m sorry, but why are you so upset at that? Fine. I did lie to you, but I never told Jaehyun I was in love with anyone else.”

“Are you in love with someone else?” Doyoung says with balled fists at his side. There is a mixture of anger and sadness running through his veins and he’s so sick of feeling this way.

Your hesitation speaks for you, “It’s better that you don’t know.”

“You say this every time and it does nothing to ease my conscience.” Doyoung throws his hands in the air and stares at you with sharp eyes. “Is that why you were afraid that my emblem wouldn’t show up? Because your heart belongs to another. Yeah, I heard Jaehyun wanted to mark you too.”

Men and their constant want to prove something to themselves with their marks. Everyone has a twisted reality of markings now. There have been many others who have tried to mark you, feeling as if lust would be enough to suffice its appearance. As one's Patronus is special to their own protection, a beloved’s Patronus mark holds the same value.

You’re quite at a loss for words, “I was afraid that it wouldn’t show up, not because of myself, but because of you.”

Doyoung points at himself in disbelief. Him? He loves you more than anyone he’s ever encountered, even if you didn’t know it. “I wouldn’t have almost tried it if I wasn’t sure of myself.”

“You don’t love me, Doyoung. I don’t even know if I can even say you romantically like me.” Those words hurt the both of you and it lingers in the room for longer than you’d like.

“Do you think I fuck you meaninglessly like all those other losers you sleep with?” Doyoung steps forward, pulling you into his chest and admiring everything he’s fallen in love with. A pain spreads across his heart as he thinks of you with another person, of someone else kissing you, of someone else making you happy.

“You really don’t feel it in the way I kiss you?” He asks once more and your own stare drops to his shoulder, a bit ashamed to maintain eye contact with such pained eyes.

“And if I did? How would you explain that? That you are actually in love with me?” Your questions pelt him like rocks. As he pushes you on his bed, you pull him down with his tie.

Doyoung drinks you up like fresh water, a crisp and refreshing love that encourages him to reach heights. His hand cups your face and his feather touches reminds you of his gentleness. Your lips taste like sweet honey, dripping and coating him with a sticky sugar.

He’s happier with you and he’s the happiest kissing you. Perhaps, it’s hard for him to express with words, but he’d always hope his actions speak louder. So, his lips press against yours with a whirl of passion and every good feeling that grows in his chest.

The collar of his shirt is wrinkled in your fist and you’re holding him as if you’re afraid of him letting go. Doyoung runs a hand down your torso and lifts the end of your skirt up. A warm hand pushes your legs apart and a finger presses your clit through your cotton panties.

Your mouth opens into a moan and he takes this opportunity to shove his long tongue inside, lapping with your own. As a wet spot forms on your panties, he pulls them to the side and gathers the slick to gently rub your erect clit. His name is lost and muffled in the kiss, but you tap at his chest.

When he breaks away and halts all movement, he looks down over you with a fire burning in his dark orbs. And a confession falls from his swollen lips, “may I mark you?”

“And if it doesn’t show up?” Though, you’re wishing to the most powerful wizards that it does or else your heart would shatter into a million pieces beyond repair.

He bites his lip and every possible outcome scatters his thoughts. It’s too hard to concentrate, so he doesn’t at all. He focuses on your pretty lips and the way you look at him like he’s the only person that matters. “Then, we’ll deal with the consequences later.”

With your quick nod, Doyoung attaches his lips to your neck and harshly sucks at your skin. For the most part, it’s a pleasurable feeling and sends a shiver down your spine. So, he licks and nibbles until he can barely breathe. Your faint scent of patchouli and ginger intoxicates him, wraps him up in a fuzzy coziness that is unmatched.

Your hands unbutton his shirt and a final gentle bite seals his mark. If the love is reciprocated, the emblem would take a moment to form. Doyoung is rather hopeful and excited, as he’s never seen his Patronus before. “You look beautiful.”

“And you look dazed as if someone charmed you.” You giggle and kiss his red lips.

“You’re quite the powerful one, my Puff.” He smiles against your jaw before proceeding to your mess down below. He gives your aching clit a few licks, which cause your body to twist and turn at the sensitive sensation.

“Please, I haven’t felt you in so long.” Whining and tugging at his hair, Doyoung leaves a lasting kiss and gets up to remove his pants.

“Did you miss me?” Doyoung raises a suggestive eyebrow and cocks his head to the side in mockery, a smirk growing on his face.

You reply with a silly response that only he knows and causes him to chuckle, “unfortunately.” And he’s finding every way not to confess his endearments for you.

His dick stands tall and proud against his abdomen, giving it a few jerks as he watches you strip out of your own clothes. You turn around and sit on your knees, with a slight tilt forward and the arch in your back to accentuate your ass.

Doyoung rolls on the protection as quickly as he can. His hands lightly smack your cheeks and slowly enters your dripping hole. His hands grip your hips as he slides deeper into you, both being moaning messes at the delicious feeling.

“Have you always been this big?” You look back at him and to which he devilishly smiles at you.

“You know just the way to fuel my ego,” when his length is fully buried inside of your tight walls, he wraps an arm around your waist and a hand on your tit. “After all the times you’ve been fucked, your pussy is still as tight as ever.”

Doyoung slams hard into you, showing no mercy and causing you to jolt up. He takes every frustration, every feeling of anger, every ounce of jealousy into his thrusts. “But you take me so well, darling. I’ve never seen someone as pretty as you.”

His compliments cause your heart to soar, despite the soreness you’re beginning to feel in your pussy. He’s relentless, bottoming out until his tip is practically in your guts. “Just like that, baby. You’re the only one who fucks me this good.”

He blushes under the low light and leans forward to kiss the top of your head. “My Puff, you’re so sweet to me.” The loud squelch of your tight pussy gripping his dick fills the hot room, “and so wet.”

You’re shamelessly dripping on his green velvet blanket and Doyoung picks up his speed. Your knees give out as you fall face forward into the mattress, hands in fists from the incredible pleasure of every hit. Your ass now in his full view and every tingle of magic lights up in his veins.

Your throat is raw from screaming and moaning, Doyoung holds your hips steady to thrust into a new angle. Automatically, your body twitches as his tip hits your special spot and he’s well aware that you’re close to releasing.

And with his fast thrusts, he asks you an intimate question that is fueled by envy and rage. “If I fuck you the best, then why do you sleep with other men?”

There are no thoughts in your mind to even give him a white lie, to mask the truth of your actions. He’s fucking you into an oblivion that it’s hard to even focus on anything besides pleasure. The books on his shelf begin to tremble as you’re crying out, “I- I don’t know! Fuck, please… ! I’m tipping over.”

“Answer the question or I will stop.” He’s absolutely cynical and you have every reason to believe his threat. Doyoung lifts your limp body upright, against his torso and an arm secured around your middle as before. His hand snakes to your clit, rubbing feathering circles over the neglected bud.

Nonetheless, his single action paired with his tip grazing harshly against the particular spot causes your legs to tremble. “Do you want me to stop?” His threat rings in your ears when you still left him without an answer.

You’re so close, you’re starting to see white. So, you say what your heart tells you and the truth falls from your lips in a loud confession. “Because I wanted you to love me instead! I fucked them to forget about my love for you… fuck, I’m--”

“I’ve got you. Let go of yourself, baby.” Doyoung slows his hips when your walls squeeze around him sporadically. Every book flies out and hits the opposite wall, clattering the floor with heavy academia. However, he repeats your proclamation endlessly in his mind and his heart surges with the most intense romantic desires.

“I do love you, y/n.” He whispers, cumming into his rubber and simply holding you tightly. He lets go of every prideful arrogance in his body, tossing the lame reputation he always tried to hold onto. He didn’t need that if it meant losing you. Doyoung chuckles to himself for being an obvious cliché, announcing one’s love in the midst of a lustful act. He pulls out and gently tucks you into the covers.

Breathless, you’re finally realizing his confession. “You do? Are you sure?” Any subtle movements has your aching lower half in pain, so you settle with resting on his plush pillows and await for him to join you in bed.

All this time, from beginning to now, you’ve been oblivious to his yearning looks across the Great Hall. The intensity of his kisses had been lost upon you completely as you had convinced yourself that he was incompatibly of loving you back. Even now, as you lay in slight doubt, you’re wondering how you managed to have everything fly over your head. 

When he discards his used protection and with a quick flick of his wrist, every book finds its original place on the shelf again, he enters the warm covers. Your arms wrap around his neck and you’re admiring each other’s expressions in the low light. He spots the notable twinkle in your eyes and his thumb lightly rubs your cheek.

“If the symbol of my Patronus doesn’t show, I promise to love you harder until it does.” Doyoung leaves the softest, most loving kiss on your lips. He’s more than thankful for the lack of light as he’s bashfully red all over his cheeks.

“Usually, people just give up.” Your voice is harsh, possibly from the deafening screaming of pleasure prior.

Doyoung shakes his head. He’s made too many mistakes in this relationship with you. Sleeping with another. Ignoring your existence. Being too prideful to be seen with another house. All these incidents have made him feel nothing but ugliness and distraught, and pushed you away further than how much he is able to pull you back.

He loves you. He’s in love with you. He’s fallen for you recklessly as you did off your broom the first encounter. You’re everything he’s never been and never will be, yet you don’t care. You’re by his side, despite his spitefulness and you never miss a beat. That innocent youth approach to love, oh how he wishes it never faded, and though he thought it did, it didn’t. You remain true to your character when he fights with himself internally.

“That would be a mistake and I can’t afford to keep making them.” A glossy sheen over Doyoung’s regretful eyes, but you pull him closer and you refuse to let his eyes wander.

A tired harmless sigh escapes your lips and a dreamy haze overcomes you. Besides the reminder of needing to use the bathroom flashing in your mind, there is nothing else you want to dissect. Feelings are too complex to discuss at the moment and the resolve has already passed.

Regardless of the marks appearing, you’re content with the night and for the rest of your days. Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, loves you back and the power of that alone beats any spell in those dusty old textbooks.

“Why can’t we lay here forever?” Your heavy eyelids fall slowly and your voice grows small.

Doyoung kisses your shoulder, then your neck. “That’s impossible. I can’t give you forever.” He mumbles against your skin, sending vibrations across your throat.

“You are my forever.” Doyoung halts and is left speechless as a white glowing entity catches his eye. And the absolute perfect outline of his Patronus sits underneath your jaw, brightly shining with iridescent brilliance --- he makes out the outline: a White Swan, representing his love for you. Doyoung smiles to himself and hopes for it to never fade. Perhaps, he can give you forever.

some fun critical questions to think about hehe -

why do you think y/n lied to doyoung about jaehyun confessing? why do you think yuta helped y/n enter the Slytherin dormitories? what is the meaning behind the White Swan Patronus? Why do you think y/n continued to like doyoung after all this time?

there are no right or wrong answers, just something fun to have you thinking a little more about the fic haha if you want, you can send me an ask about it :) but overall, no pressure and thank you for reading! please leave me some feedback if you can! happy new year!

READ NEXT PART

[andromedasstarship]

in the stars - chapter 5

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader 

warnings - canon-typical criminal minds violence, stalking, unhealthy coping mechanisms, drinking, angst

summary -  “Please,” he said, staring you straight in the eyes. “Don’t go.” 

a/n - i really love this chapter! cant wait to hear what yall think :DD also for reference i aged jack down just a year so hes 3 when haley passes away, about to turn 5 when reader & aaron get together. i dont claim any dialogue straight from Emma as mine! (emma dialogue is in italics) 

masterlist / series masterlist / read it on ao3 

chapter 4 / chapter 6 

-----

You were hyper-aware of the new way the team was looking at you as you entered the conference room. You shot a very anxious glance up towards Aaron, grateful for the very brief- but soft- glance he gave you before the business side of him took over again. You could feel the ghost of his hand hovering over that protective spot on your back again as he led you up towards the table. 

It felt like your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, upon seeing the seemingly endless piles of photos in front of you. Your brain was struggling to process everything that was laid out in front of you and you felt your heart rate start to pick up; seeing it in person was worse than anything your mind had created in the drive here. 

“Y/N.” 

Your eyes shot up to meet the voice and you saw Spencer looking down at you with a look that was just on the edge of pity. “We tried to sort the pictures into piles of time relativity. Would you be able to go through them and help us create a firmer timeline?” 

You nodded at that, vaguely aware of Aaron pulling a chair out behind you. You gladly slid down into it. Seeing Emily start to pick up one pile and push them towards you made you nervously laugh, the stress of the moment and how uncomfortable you felt forcing it out. When the entire team gave you a weird look you said, “Sorry, it just reminded me of last time.” 

You gently picked up the stack of photos, trying to hold them as lightly as possible. The knowledge that the unsub had packaged these himself sent a shiver down your spine. You knew it was silly, but you somehow felt that by touching the photos you were somehow also touching the remnants of the unsub. 

The first stack you easily dated as around four years ago, just from your hair; you’d drastically changed it for a role. You thumbed through the photos and could feel the knots in your stomach growing even tighter. Most of the photos were blurry and relatively distant from you, as if the unsub was still getting comfortable with what he was doing. 

“This was four years ago, I had to change my hair for a role and I’ve never had it like that before or again.” You said quietly, pushing the pile back to Emily. 

She nodded, giving you a gracious smile before pushing the next pile towards you. Your face fell immediately; something the team equated to how much more personal these set of photos seemed to be. You fanned the stack out in front of you. There weren’t many, as if even the unsub could recognize the inappropriate- ha!- nature of capturing you like this. In all of them you looked worn down, as if a cloud was following you everywhere you went. 

“This was about two years ago.” You said flatly. It took a moment, but you could see everyone connect the dots in their head and suddenly the room felt very small. 

Thankfully, the next pile was rather average and you guessed that this was just an ‘extra’ pile of photos that didn’t really seem to fit into a cohesive timeframe. As you scanned over them, one caught your eye and you pulled it a bit closer to you. You pointed a finger at the sign behind you. 

“This is an exclusive club house, it’s difficult to get into. Security’s intense and everyone that enters has to sign in.” You informed the team. JJ reached out and grabbed the photo, putting it to the side for later.

You turned your attention back to the pile, making sure to give each photo a proper amount of attention, desperate to notice something useful. 

“This one,” you said, pulling a blurry photo of yourself out of the pile. You were moving too fast for the camera to properly capture you, but you recognized the outfit. “I was wearing this the day Officer Reynolds told me you all were coming, isn’t this the outside of the station?” You said quietly.

JJ moved that photo to the ‘save for later’ pile as well. You gently re-stacked the pile and passed it towards Emily, waiting for the next one. 

You watched as Emily seemed to be literally holding her tongue as she pushed the next pile towards you, a certain playful glint in her eyes. Once you were able to look at it, you couldn’t help but snort. You could feel Aaron tense up besides you, but you could find the humor in it. The ‘Aaron’ pile. 

You fanned the stack out like you had done with the others, giving special attention to the details behind you. These were much more difficult to place and a much smaller pile, considering how careful the two of you had been. 

“These must’ve been in DC?” You questioned, not really expecting an answer. You looked up towards Aaron, raising an eyebrow as if to give him the opportunity to share his thoughts. “Whenever he came to LA, I had an iron grip on our security but it was a whole different field in DC-” 

Your sentence fell flat as your eyes went wide, nearly surging out of your seat up towards Aaron. He gave you a worried look, unable to place the sudden anxiety that had taken over you. “What about Jack?” You asked worriedly, “if he knows about you he must’ve found out about Ja-”

Aaron stopped you, putting a very gentle hand on the top of your shoulder, “He’s okay, I promise.” He said, using his hand to lightly push you back into a seated position. You nodded at that, eyes still wide, but your body seemed to deflate, the tension slowly leaving you. 

The rest of the team was quiet, recognizing the personal nature of the interaction. But it was impossible for them not to notice the way your bodies reacted to each other. The way your body’s natural response to a stressor had been to move closer to him and the way he angled himself in a protective stance around you near simultaneously. 

Emily pushed the final pile in front of you and you couldn’t help the corners of your lips pull up in a soft smile. You fanned out the stack of photos, taking a good look at all of them. They all seemed to either be promo photos or film photos of your time filming Mamma Mia in Greece. 

“This is definitely from Greece. But some of these are definitely promo photos, it’s why I’m ‘posing’ in a few of them.” You said, pushing out one that visually made your point. 

“What about this one? It feels a lot more intimate than a promotional piece.” Emily asked, pulling one out from the stack. In it, you were standing on the dock, face close to the camera. You had a big smile on your face and your thumbs up. 

“On set, we had a handful of little disposable cameras that everyone could use.” 

“Do you have any memory of who owned the cameras?” 

“I…,” you paused, eyebrows scrunched tightly in thought, “I don’t know. The studio distributed all the photos after the movie came out. They’re pretty public at this point, it was five years ago.” You said weakly, feeling really disappointed in your lack of help. “I’m sorry.” You added. 

Morgan stepped up closer to the table. “Don’t be okay? Now we know that the unsub has connections in Hollywood and we know he must be wealthy enough to fly to DC on a whim if he thought you were there. That helps narrow things down.” He assured you. 

“Are there any specific photographers that you’ve noticed? Or any guy you feel like you’ve seen too many times and it’s no longer a coincidence?” Spencer asked. 

You shook your head quickly. “I’m really used to cameras flashing in my face.” You said impishly. “I can remember a lot of fans that I meet, but if it’s just someone behind a camera I don’t think I’d really notice it at all.” 

You felt Aaron move away from you and towards the computer at the end of the table. He clicked a few buttons and suddenly a woman's face popped up on the screen. You recognized her immediately from all the stories and photos you’d seen. Penelope. 

Aaron brought the computer closer to where you were and her mouth dropped open for the second time today. 

“Oh my god! Hi! Wow! I am, I am such a fan. I just-, you’re always so-” 

“Garcia.” Aaron interjected but you raised your hand at him, giving him a ‘shoo’ gesture. The rest of the team had to stifle their laughter. 

“Hi, Penelope right? I’ve heard so much about you.” You said sweetly, leaning a bit closer to the camera. 

“Wow! Okay, I can’t believe this is-” 

“Garcia, I need you to pull up visitor logs from a clubhouse that Y/N used to visit. I want you to cross reference it with other visitor logs of recent film sets she’s been on and her housing development. She’ll be able to give you a more comprehensive list.” Aaron interjected, and this time you let him. 

You turned back to the screen, giving Garcia another smile. “The clubhouse is called Royal Blue, the picture couldn’t have been more than…, I think three years ago? But I’m not sure.” 

“Alright…, okay the visitor logs seem to be locked tight, but never too tight for me. What are some of those movie sets?” 

“The earliest photo is what? Five years ago?” You asked, looking around at the agents for approval. “Yeah, five years. So Mamma Mia, to start, Little Women. I’m working on Emma right now.” You droned, listing various movie sets you’d worked on in the past five years. 

“Oh my god! I have so many questions about Mamma Mia. Like what was it-,” Garcia’s question trailed off as she caught sight of Hotch giving her a firm stare from behind you. “Right sorry, alright. I will break into the clubhouse and cross reference all of these lists to see if anyone comes up more than once. It was so nice meeting you, I hope we get to-. Alright, hanging up now!” Garcia said in a rushed voice. You watched her click a button on her end and the screen went black. 

You leaned back into your chair, staring up at the rest of the team . “So…,” you said, drawing out the word, “what now?” 

-----

“What are you doing?” Aaron’s asked, voice coming out from behind you. 

You comically froze, hand just short of picking your keys up from the table. You slowly turned to face him, straightening your tote bag over your shoulder. “Oh! There you are, I was just on my way to come find you.” You said lightly, trying to diffuse some of the tension in the room. Aaron didn’t say anything, waiting for you to go on. “Johnny and I have plans tonight.” You said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world  

On your part, you’d already forgotten about the whole ‘I’m on a date’ aspect on your earlier phone call with Aaron. In your mind, there wasn’t anything inherently suspicious about you going to spend time with him in the evening.

Aaron was viewing the entire situation in a very different light. When he had first come around the corner, he noticed how nice you looked. When the two of you had finally returned to your place you immediately went up to your room, disappearing for quite some time. He had originally thought maybe you were upset, the cognitive interview hadn’t revealed anything and even though he knew you didn’t really believe in their accuracy, he also knew how badly you wanted to be of ‘use’ for the case. 

In your time upstairs, you had changed your outfit and styled your hair just enough to give it that ‘unstyled-styled’ look. It’s not like you were glammed out or anything, the only reason you’d put on a nice outfit was on the off chance you were photographed- hopefully not by the unsub-, on your way into Johnny’s apartment. 

“And what is it that you’re supposed to be doing?” Aaron asked, trying to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible. 

“Um, nothing much,” You said with an awkward laugh, when he was still looking at you expectantly you tilted your head. “I’m supposed to go to his place and we’re gonna run lines for the scenes we’re filming this week.” You explained. 

“I can’t endorse you going out at night. Especially to someone’s home that we don’t have eyes on.” Aaron said firmly. 

You rolled your eyes at that, picking up your keys. “Johnny’s fine, he’s been in the same place as me when nearly all the bodies were discovered.” You argued, putting one hand on your hip. 

“With the recent development in the cases, I can’t let you do this.”

You started to walk towards him, intending to go around him. “Aaron-” 

His hand shot out and gently grabbed you by the arm, stopping you from getting past him. 

“Hey!-” 

“Please,” he said, staring you straight in the eyes. “Don’t go.” 

Your mouth fell open slightly in a mild form of shock. ‘We’re just running lines, I really need-” 

“I’ll do it with you.” Aaron interjected hurriedly. “We’ve done it before, I’m not too bad at it, huh?” He said teasingly. 

You pondered that for a minute. You and Aaron had run lines together plenty of times in the past, it was always something you got a kick out of, seeing Aaron try and morph into whatever character he was reading for. And while it wouldn’t be as productive as running them with your actual co-star, you reasoned it’d still be good enough. And as much as you hated to admit it, Aaron probably had a point about you not going out, especially in the evening.  

“Fine. I just need to go call Johnny and tell him something came up.” You huffed, pretending to be more annoyed than you were. 

“Here,” you said, reaching into your bag and pulling out your script, “I already have most of my lines memorized, I’ll just need you to fill in if I miss any. I have a pink sticky note denoting the scene we were going to start with. You’re reading as Knightely. I’ll meet you in the living room, alright?” You said, pushing the script into his hands as you walked around him towards the kitchen, pulling your phone out at the same time. 

----

“No, I’m just saying I think it’d be more believable or whatever if we did a few more like nonchalant meals before like, running errands together or something, ya know?” You said lazily into the phone, holding it between your ear and shoulder as you used your hands to mix up a drink for yourself. Out of the corner of your eye you caught sight of the Dalmore. You reached out with one hand and carefully pulled it down, still remembering exactly how Aaron liked to take a drink. 

“What meal really screams ‘we’re dating’? Dinner? That’s like the longest meal of the day, that’s gotta show some sort of commitment.” Johnny asked. 

“Hm…,” you droned, “well we just had a lunch. If we want to kick it into high gear, we should do breakfast. Perfect ‘just spent the night’ remedy.” You said with a snort. 

Aaron cleared his throat behind you and the sound made you jump. You pulled the phone away from your ear and saw you’d been blabbering for nearly half an hour. 

‘Oh. Sorry.’ You mouthed to Aaron, before pulling the phone back to your ear. “Hey Johnny gotta go, but we’ll figure it out later! Yeah…, for sure, bye!” You hung up and placed your phone on the counter. Then you grabbed the drink you had poured for him, holding it out. 

“It’s Dalmore.” You said plainly. 

“I’m working.” He responded. 

You rolled your eyes at that and held it out more aggressively. “Take it.” 

You watched happily as he begrudgingly took it out of your hand, though you knew it wasn’t too difficult for him. You picked up your own glass and tucked your phone into the waistband of your pants. “Ready? Sorry, got carried away.” 

While the two of you walked back into your living room, it was obvious something was bothering Aaron. You briefly wondered if something had developed in the case that he wasn’t telling you. 

‘What is it?” You asked. 

He looked down at you, confused. “What is what?” 

“Don’t play dumb, you have a tell.”  You explained, stopping to look up at him.  

“I do not have a tell.” Hotch replied annoyedly. 

“Yes you do.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“If you want to be a baby about it, fine you don’t have a tell. Tell me what’s wrong anyway.” 

“I’m trying to understand why you lied about not having a boyfriend nor seeing anyone recently. We’ll need to fully vet Johnny and look into his files, even if you don’t see it becoming serious.” Aaron near spat.

You snorted. “What do you mean lied?” 

“You very clearly told me you weren’t seeing anyone, yet today has proven those claims to be false.” 

“I know that sometimes, I like to be a huge pain but I’m serious, what are you talking about? I’m not seeing anyone.” 

“Your co-star, Johnny? You told me you were on a date with him today. I just heard you on the phone make plans to stay with him overnight. I saw the pictures of-” 

“Stop! Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually believed that.” You said, unable to hold back the laughter that bubbled out of you. 

“Believed it? You’re the only who told me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have assumed you read through the lines. Johnny and I have been going on publicity dates. We’re just friends.” 

“What were you supposed to be doing tonight then?” 

“We were legitimately going to run lines. Maybe get ice cream, we’re trying to determine the best ice cream in LA.” 

That’d explain the outfit, Aaron thought. 

“And the phone call I just heard?” 

“We were debating which meal screams ‘dating’. He thinks it’s dinner. I think it’s breakfast, ya know, cause it implies you spent the night.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me that, before.” 

“Don’t you remember when I had kinda the same thing with Timothee during Little Women? They made us hang out a bunch so the tabloids could just do their thing. I just assumed you’d fill in the blanks.” 

Aaron was staring at you as if you had two heads. It was almost like you could see the gears turning in that head of his. Internally, he was more than embarrassed for how upset he’d gotten over the idea of you with someone else. 

When it seemed that Aaron had nothing else to say, you started to walk again, not stopping until you were both back in your living room. You plopped down in ‘your spot’ on the couch, playfully patting the space a few cushions down that Aaron typically sat in. 

“Crack open that script, I hope you looked through it. If you’re making me stay home, you better be useful!” You said pleasantly, trying to change the atmosphere into something more playful. 

Aaron awkwardly sat himself down on the couch next to you, picking the script back up. As you watched him flip the script open and further acquaint himself with the lines you couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang in your chest. It was such an unavoidable reminder of the way the two of you used to run lines together when you were still dating. You had learned early on that Aaron best showed his affection through acts of service and he actually wasn’t that bad at delivering a line. Since the two of you were rarely together in person- it’s not like you’d let him waste a visit with you building a shelf or running an errand-, running lines with you was the easiest way for him to feel useful. 

-----

Four Years Ago

“Okay Jack, you ready?” You asked, smiling down at the young boy standing across from you. He was dressed up in his winter clothes, despite the blazing heat of the summer. You and Aaron had tried to talk him out of it, but he demanded it’d be the only way for him to fully get into character. And who were you two to deny him? The sweet boy nodded, barely being able to contain his excitement as he bounced up and down on his feet. 

“Alright, places everyone!” You yelled out, holding the diy paper clapperboard Jack had made for you. You held it out from your body and did a very exaggerated clapping motion. “Action!” You said, quickly throwing the clapperboard to the couch. 

“Carrots!” Jack said, his voice more than enthusiastic for the role. 

“Huh?” You said, heavily overselling your voice and reaction. Even with the one simple word, Jack was already in giggles, struggling to keep it together. 

He leaned in closer to you, standing up on his tiptoes. “Behind you!” 

“Oh! Right, excuse me.” You said, stepping to the side and gesturing to the ‘carrots’ behind you. 

You made your voice really low to play the next part. “Woh, a real howler in July, yea? Where ever could it be coming from?” You asked, placing your chin in between your thumb and pointer finger. 

Jack kept giggling at your ‘deep’ voice, he held his ‘script’ up to his face to read his next line. “The North Mountain.” 

You jokingly ran a hand in front of your face, signaling a character switch. “North Mountain.” You stage whispered. You ran your hand in front of your face again, going serious. “That’ll be forty.” You said, holding your hand out with a ‘gimme’ gesture. 

Jack smacked your hand gently to ‘give you’ the money. But after his face fell ever so slightly. “Can we skip to when Daddy gets to come in??” He asked, giving you those big eyes you couldn’t possibly say no to. 

You stood back, putting your weight on your back leg with one hand on your hip. “Hmm.., I think that could be arranged.” You reached over to grab the clapperboard. “Alright everyone! Back to places, but let’s start at ‘Hi everyone’, okay?” 

Jack nodded excitingly and turned back to where he knew Aaron was standing, partially hidden by the hallway. “Places daddy!” He urged, pointing to where he should come stand. 

Aaron came out from around the corner and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand, trying to hold in the laughter. Aaron had a big white hat on his head and had let Jack put a small orange dot on his nose. You and Jack had definitely double teamed poor Aaron, dragging him into your little ‘movie game’ as Jack liked to call it. The three of you had started doing this a few months ago, Jack loved ‘running lines’ with you and you were more than happy to oblige him. It had started when a sleepy Jack had stumbled into the living room one night when he couldn’t sleep and he saw you and Aaron running lines for one of your other movies. Jack had taken to it so much you ended up ‘hiring’ him to help you with your more child friendly roles. 

“Alright, alright. Quiet on set!” You said, making a big deal of you bringing your index finger up to your lips in a ‘shush’ motion. “Action!” 

“Hi everyone. I’m Olaf. And I like warm hugs.” Aaron recited robotically , very clear that he was reading directly from the paper. You smacked your hand back over your mouth, unable to control the giggles. Once you started laughing, Jack fell into his own fit of laughter; both of you fueled off the others amusement. 

Of course, when you finally pulled yourself back together, a quick look at the way Aaron was standing with fake annoyance across his face and his arms crossed tightly against his chest sent you back into fits of laughter. 

“Are you two done?” Aaron asked, no true malice in his voice. 

It was rare that the three of you all got to spend time together. He’d been wary of introducing you to Jack. It wasn’t really a ‘you’ thing, but it was more of how Jack would be able to deal with it. There were the typical worries, what if you and Jack didn’t get along? Or what if you two did get along really well but then you and Aaron broke up and it hurt him even further? While you never intended to try and replace his ‘mom’, you still worried that your chaotic schedule would somehow hurt him, skewing his perception of yet another ‘parental’ figure. Not to mention the issues with him being able to keep your identity and presence in his life a secret; he wouldn’t even be able to tell people like Uncle Rossi that his dad was seeing someone. 

But now, you’d been with Aaron for over two years. And Jack had known about you for about a year now. And everything had been going perfect. Jack was a stellar secret keeper, the unfortunate events of his childhood maturing him faster than any child deserved and he was able to fully understand the importance of the situation. The two of you had taken to each other quite quickly and every night the three of you would have a ‘bedtime’ call; even on the nights when Aaron was busy with a case you’d still call Jack on your own. You loved spoiling him with whatever hot new toy was popular among kids his age or getting him special early copies of movies before they came out. Aaron used to get on you about it, saying it wasn’t necessary, but you argued it was the most necessary thing in the world. 

And now here the three of you were. Nestled away in Aaron’s apartment in DC. You had just flown in after wrapping up a shoot abroad and were just in time for the start of summer. Even though your career was at a seemingly new high, you had managed to secure a relatively empty summer. After long consideration and planning you and Aaron decided it’d be a nice treat for Jack to go spend a month or so with you in LA. You’d consulted heavily with many of your friends who kept their children completely hidden from the spotlight and had hired an airtight security team to assist you the entire time. Aaron was supposed to come out when he could, but you were all aware of how turbulent his poor schedule could be. Schedule permitting, you all would spend the next three days at Aaron’s apartment before you and Jack took off. 

“Daddy! You sound like a robot.” Jack said, scolding Aaron. His voice brought you out of your thoughts and you looked down at him with a big smile. 

“Daddy’s just no good at this huh?” You asked, shaking your head. “He’s no match for our talent, Jack!” 

“This is really hot.” Jack said, holding up his arms. He must’ve been sweating his butt off in all those winter layers. 

“You’re kidding me! I wonder who could’ve seen that coming.” You said sarcastically, reaching over to pull off his big hat and zip down the first of multiple jackets he put on. “I’ve heard that ice cream cools you down…,” 

“Ice cream!’ Jack exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. He didn’t even look to his father for ‘permission’, knowing by now you had the most sway in the house. 

“Go put on some normal clothes okay? Wouldn’t be fun if you passed out in your ice cream bowl, huh?” You told him, ruffling his hair before he dipped under your arm, making a mad dash for his room. 

“He hasn’t even had lunch yet, you know that right?” Aaron asked, giving you a fake stern look as he walked over to where you were standing. 

You rolled your eyes at that, reaching up to snatch the white hat off his head, letting your arms fall loosely around his neck. “Does it upset you that I’m always the cool one?” You asked teasingly, reaching up on your tiptoes to press the gentlest kiss on his lips. 

He gave you one of his small smiles, reaching down to press a second kiss to your lips. “How was your flight in?” He asked, one of his hands wrapping protectively around your waist as the other one found its way by your hair, gently stroking down it the way you liked. 

You let your head relax against his touch and pretended to think for a moment. Instead of answering you reached up again, pressing your lips against his, pressing yourself closer to him. You both thought you could stay this way forever; it being the first time you saw each other, in person, in nearly two months. 

“Gross!” Jack’s voice seemingly cut through the two of you. Aaron was the one to pull away first, quietly laughing so only you could hear. 

“Later.” He promised in a whisper. 

You loosened your grip on him, turning to face Jack. “Oh Jack! Funny seeing you here, ice cream, right?” 

----- 

Present Day.

“Page 103, right?” He asked, skipping to the bright pink sticky note you had used as a place marker. 

You jolted out of your memories, feeling the heat rise up your neck as you prayed it wasn’t too obvious you had just completely zoned out. 

“Yep!” You squeaked out, “page 103, line 19, you start.” You said, waving your hands. 

“And I do envy him, Emma. In one respect he is the object of my enemy, you will not ask me why, you are, you are determined, I see, to have no curiosity but I cannot be wise-” He started, keeping his eyes near glued to the page. 

You frowned, shaking your head a bit. “Stand up.” You ordered, already getting to your feet. 

“Excuse me?” Aaron asked. 

“Stand up,” you repeated, motioning upwards with your palms. “This,” you said, motioning between the two of you, “doesn’t feel right if we’re seated, we’re supposed to move around in this scene, it’s supposed to be painful.” You explained. 

He slowly stood up, looking at you for permission to start again. 

“From where you left off, please.” 

“I must tell you, Emma, what you will not ask! Though I may wish it unsaid the next moment-” 

“So do not speak it.” You cut in. “If you wish to speak to me, as a friend or to ask my opinion as a friend I will hear whatever you like.”

“As a friend, Emma. That I fear is a word, tell me Emma. Have I no chance of ever succeeding?” He asked, looking up at you for further approval, you nodded and he continued. “My dearest Emma, my dearest, you will always be my dearest most beloved Emma, tell me at once. I cannot make speeches, if I, if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more-” 

“Let’s do a different part, yeah?” You interrupted, voice incredibly tight. You ducked from his gaze, reaching to bring your glass to your lips. 

“Isn’t this the scene you have to practice?” Aaron asked, raising his brow at you. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you replied, taking a long sip, “any practice as the character will be helpful.” 

“If this is the one that’s troubling you, we should go over it.” He pressed. 

“Page 56, start at line 9.” You ordered, throwing back the rest of your glass. “Read it over, I’ll be back.” 

Before you could fully turn to go and refill your glass, Aaron lunged forward and grabbed your arm, pulling you towards him. The sudden movement caused you to stumble, throwing your hands out to steady yourself against his chest. 

“You’ve been drinking a lot.” He stated, repositioning his grip on your arm. 

“Am I not allowed to have a drink or two in my own home?” You challenged. 

“What are you running away from?” Aaron asked, his voice so gentle it made your knees weak. 

“You.” You whispered, after a long pause. You looked up at him with sad eyes and only found confusion in his. “I can’t, I-, don’t you see how funny it is? Your character is desperate for mine to be with and my character is the one to deny yours.” 

Your confession pulled sharply on his heart. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, not sure there were any words to appropriately apologize for how he had treated you. 

“Why didn’t you ever call?” You asked, voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear you. 

“I, I-” He stuttered, unable to think of an answer fast enough. 

“I waited for weeks,” you said, looking up at him with a look that nearly brought him to his knees. “I waited so long and you never called.” 

He brushed the hair out of your face, letting his hand fall gently against your cheek. His thumb caught a stray tear that had started to fall, softly brushing it away. “I don’t know.” He responded, his voice as quiet as your. “I don’t know, you didn’t deserve that.” 

You pressed your face into his hand, closing your eyes as you felt more tears managing to sneak past you. He was finally admitting words you had dreamed of hearing for years, but yet you were unable to find any joy in them. 

“You didn’t deserve that.” He repeated, sliding his hand towards the back of your head, pulling you firmly against his chest, while his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist. You let your body relax into his, slowly bringing your own arms up loosely around his neck. 

You felt him gently press the faintest of kisses to the top of your head. “I’m so sorry angel.” He mumbled into your hair. 

You pulled your head out from under him, looking up at him with big eyes. The two of you were silent, basking in each other's presence. Your eyes flickered down to his lips multiple times; something he duly picked up on. Just as you began to push up on your toes, nearly pressing your lips to his, eyes half closed in anticipation, his phone rang out. 

You froze, falling back onto your heels with a small sigh. “Answer it, I’m getting a refill.” You said, pulling yourself out of his grasp. He gave you an uncertain look, as if he wanted to pull you back in and ignore the call completely. 

You wagged a finger in front of him, shaking your head. In on fluid movement, you grabbed your glass and nearly ran out of the room

-----

It took you ten minutes to calm yourself down and another five to hype yourself up to return to your living room. And that was after you had made yourself a new drink. 

When you entered the living room, Aaron’s back was to you; still locked on the phone. The tension was clear in his shoulders and your eyes drifted down to his free hand that you knew would be clenched in a fist. It was. 

“Thank you Garcia, tell the team we’ll be there soon.” He said, pulling the phone away from his ear and hanging up. 

“Aaron?” You asked. 

He rolled his shoulders back, trying to loosen some of the tension from his shoulders for your benefit. He slowly turned back towards you, his face pulled in frustration. 

“LAPD just reported another body.”

-------

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[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

The second and third obstacles! And Mei’s first big showing, because of course. 

[No. 25 - In Their Own Quirky Ways]

Ochako, Tsuyu, and Mina are all standing still, staring at the next obstacle as Present Mic announces it. He calls the first barrier ‘a piece of cake,’ the notes that for the second, you fall and you’re out, so you have to crawl across if you want to make it. The obstacle, oh, nothing big, just the fucking Grand Canyon with the bottom encased in the goddamn void:

Despite all reasonable reservations about crossing, Tsuyu takes the leap (metaphorically) and starts creeping along one of the ropes, calling it a giant tightrope. She giggles to herself, saying this is her chance to make a splash. (God, a girl after my heart, I love her sense of humor between this and the USJ.)

Next we are introduced to our resident spark - I mean support course student, Hatsume Mei (abet we don’t get her name yet here, but she’s emphasized enough that it’s obvious she’s gonna be important soon.) He’s cackling a bit maniacally, talking about how it’s time for her support items to get the spotlight, calling out to the national support companies to look at her wire arrow and hover soles - the items she just so happens to be wearing, along with a few other gadgets.

Ochako realizes Mei is in the support course, while Mina is shocked that she’s allowed to have her gear. Mei points out to them that the hero course students get practical battle training, right? So in the interest of fairness, as long as they developed the gear themselves, using equipment’s just fine! In fact, for the support course students, it’s the greatest opportunity to show off their inventiveness and craftmanship to the industry! 

Mei cackles some more as she shoots off her hookshot - I mean wire arrow, the end impacting and catching on one of the pillars with a klang. Mei leaps off of the side of the canyon, again calling out to all the corporations to check out her ‘adorable babies’ while clicking on a button on her devise that starts reeling her in, as well as activates the hover function of her boots. Ochako and Mina are fired up, Ochako rushing to chase after while Mina continues to complain about it being unfair. 

Shinsou, meanwhile, is being a little bit creepy, just watching on with a slight leer as he just says ‘cool.’ Wonder what he’s doing here… hmm…

Up in the announcers’ booth, Mic states how they have all types trying to make it big in the sports festival. Aizawa, meanwhile, is just annoyed ay why ‘those idiots’ (re: the students probably) stopped moving. We then shift over to Shouto just reaching the other end of the canyon, with Mic announcing as such to the crowds.

Of course, it’s not so easy as that. Even as SHouto starts building up more ice to start pushing ahead, Katsuki is blasting in from above. Katsuki calls out, refusing to stay behind any longer, while Shouto just thinks that with how fired up Katsuki is now, he must be a slow starter. Which, man, I don’t even know if that’s just an observation about the quirk or if that was intended as a savage shot, but either way, I’m cackling.

We see Tenya somewhere behind Katsuki, watching the explosions as he pushes on. He says it’s very likely his brother is also watching, so he musn’t show an unsightly performance… 

he says as he does a T-pose to skid across the ropes with his quirk. Mic calls it unsightly, which like, dude, rude. Also, how did he know what Tenya even said there? I guess it’s just a little thing for the sake of humor, like the ‘drawn differently’ jokes for All Might. 

The crowds watching on are impressed with the performance of Shouto, talkin about how he just can’t be stopped. How quirk is awesome, but it’s not just that - he’s also incredibly athletic and perceptive. Someone else agrees, then points out how he’s the son of the flame hero, Endeavor. The first person(?) says that makes sense, the kid’s got the blood of the number two hero out there, after All Might. The pros are gonna be scrambling to get him as their sidekick.

Can I just say this is a very interesting panel here. Like there’s no reason we immediately know about to have it divided in two like this, but any amount of retrospect with what we learn later this arc makes it obvious: this is representing the internal divide Shouto places on his two sides, separating his fire from his ice. I also like how the mention of Endeavor here also happens to be on the fire side, further drawing attention to it and, subsequently, the scar there.

The scar that, incidentally, can be considered Endeavor’s fault.

I’m sure there’s a whole lot more Shouto and Todoroki family meta that can be shoved in here when analysing this panel, but we have things to do, events to see, arcs to get through! 

Present Mic announces how the leads keep breaking ahead, while the rest of the pack is bunched up. Since the racers don’t know how many will get to move on, all they can do is aim for first place! And the leader has just reached the final barrier - that is to say… the minefield.

...wait a second, ‘a deadly Afghan carpet’? Uhm, is that a translation thing, or… what a strange reference to make here. While it’s hard to make out the locations of mines from this page (at least to me), Present Mic confirms in his announcements that a quick glance should be enough to reveal it to the students, so they need to keep both eyes open and watch their steps. By the way, the mines don’t pack a deadly punch, but they’re loud and flashy enough that the kids might need a change of underwear when it’s over. Aizawa adds on that it depends on the individual, of course.

Meanwhile, back on the ropes, we see Izuku crawling along almost like a chameleon, the armor plating strapped to his back with some of the loose wire. In the background we see Shouji gliding from one of the pillars with his arms out wide, and another student  Naruto running across the wire like a champ.

You go, Naruto runner guy. 

Back with the landmines, we see Shouto realize that the positioning of the landmines puts whoever is in the lead at a disadvantage, since none of the mines have gone off yet, ergo meaning the highest chance of setting one off and losing time to the distraction. It’s all a big show, which I mean, you’re only just realizing this? Meanwhile, in the background, we see another student get blown into the air from one of the mines, and yet another (I think Ojiro???) struggling to follow. 

Katsuki, of course, decides to show up then, finally blowing past Shouto while stating how ‘this crap’ can’t slow him down. Which I mean, makes sense when his whole thing is explosions, these landmines really can’t be all that impressive to him. Katsuki declares that Shouto’s declaration of war was to the wrong person.

Present Mic gleefully announces the new leader, telling the mass media to get excited, since they love this kind of turn-around. (Definitely not a subtle dig at them, no sir.) He then announces how the rest are catching up while Katsuki seems determined to fight Shouto right where they are - Tenya has blasted himself forward with one of the mines, looking very silly, while Ibara is using her vines to test the ground around her (I think?) to allow safe passage. 

Gotta go fast (do do do do do do do…)

While Present Mic wonders if the two grappling for first can hold onto their lead, we see Izuku standing at the start of the field, watching the other students rush ahead. Tokoyami is again launching himself into the air with his quirk, Kirishima is just carefully picking his way through, and I can’t tell enough about the other students to see if they’re 1a or not, so… 

Izuku worries about how wide the field is, while we get to see just how many people are ahead of him on the field. However, Izuku seems to have a plan, looking around him. As the others rush onwards, and as Shouto and Katsuki fight with each other, we see Izuku hard at work doing something he says is taking a page from Kacchan’s book. He thinks about how he can still catch up as he throws himself forward onto a bunch of unearthed landmines, the plate under him and between him and the inevitable explosion. 

Nice. 

Izuku is sent flying over everyone’s heads from the force of it, much to everyone’s shock. Shouto and Katsuki both look back to see what caused it, while Mic wonders what could have caused such a blast, and whether it was accidental or intentional. As Toshinori throws his arms up in the air (panic or excitement?), we get one last look at Izuku, wearing a very determined expression as Present Mic announces his riding the wave in hot pursuit.

And with that, chapter 25 is done! What a point to leave off at. Next time, we finish the race, get to see placements, and (I think) we get the announcement for the second event. See y’all then!

[aficwhore]

Times Square Significance

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, oral(female receiving), cockwarming, lovemaking?, language

Word Count: 1,986

Summary: After Aaron proposes in New York City, him and the reader head back to their hotel for a romantic night.

A/N: It has been super duper long since I’ve last written but this came to my head and I HAD to put it out into the internet. Let me know if you like it! Send in requests!!! I also didn’t spell check… oops.

Reader POV:

It was about time that Aaron and I took a small vacation. The BAU had started to get really stressful with the amount of cases popping up and people needing our help. Finally died down and we decided to get away, even if it was just for a few days. We drove all the way to New York City, just because Aaron knew how much I loved it.

Today is our second day here, I’ve been so excited that I woke up early to find Aaron curled up on my side with his head resting on my chest. His deep breaths fanning over my exposed skin, his floppy dark locks tickling my neck. I began to card my fingers through his hair, not wanting to wake him, but that failed when he started to stir a little bit.

Aaron muffled, “What time is it,” still groggy from his slumber.

“It’s 10 o’clock sleeping beauty,“ I quietly giggled. He slightly shook his head at the nickname, a light blush making its way to his cheeks. Without saying anything he got up and went to the bathroom, only for the shower to start seconds later. Taking this as a sign to get ready, I climbed out of bed and opened up my suitcase. I wasn’t sure what to wear, I had no idea what her plans were for today on the town. Just as I was thinking Aaron yelled from the bathroom, “Wear something nice! We might go see if we can snag tickets for a show!”

My heart fluttered, he knows how much I love Broadway. “Oh yeah? Which one are you thinking?“ I question as he walked out of the bathroom with a towel loosely wrapped around his waist.

“That I’m not actually sure of, what’s the one with the soundtrack you listen to? The ghost in the theater or something?“ He asked.

Giggling I reply, “Phantom of the opera, silly. But I will admit that was cute.“

He walked over to me, “I try.“ He quickly picked me on the lips in rummages through his suitcase for clothes.

I finally choose a red, flowy dress, with some wedges and curl my hair and throw a little makeup on. Aaron dressed in some nice dress pants and a cream colored button up, with the first but none done, which was unusual for Mr. boss man.

We walked to a cute little diner for something to eat, by the time I was finished getting ready it was already lunchtime. We ate and chatted about New York and what else we were going to do during our stay.

*tiny time skip*

We had just bought our tickets for the Phantom of the Opera, grabbed some drinks, and headed to our seats. The whole time I sat in complete awe, I was a total nerd for the show. Aaron kept staring at me, I could see from the corner of my eye. I whispered, “why do you keep looking at me?“

“I love you, and because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.“ He attempted to whisper back over the loud contents of the show in front of us.

“Shush! we are watching!“ Some random lady whisper-yelled at us, causing us to giggle and turn back to the performance. Aaron‘s hand made its way to my knee, slightly squeezing, earning a small smile from me. I leaned against the shoulder for the remainder. When it ended I cannot stop talking about how amazing life theater is, he would just check with my enthusiasm and let me continue on.

As we left the theater Aaron suggested we walk around Times Square and watch the lights. I agreed and we walked the block hand-in-hand. We arrive minutes later, the whole street not needing a single light, due to what seems like a 1000 billboards. We stood right in the middle, taking in the beauty around us. I got too caught up in the site that I turned away from Aaron. Basking in the smell of the city and the pictures that scattered the buildings. One billboard particularly caught my attention, for a second I thought my name popped up. Watching the same one to see if it happened again, a new message appeared reading, “Y/n Y/l/n, will you marry me?” confused, I turned around to see if Aaron was saying what I was seeing, but when I spun on my heel I was met with crowds of people surrounding us, filming us on their phones. I look down to see Aaron on one knee with a ring in between his fingers. “You have made me the happiest man on earth. You have made my life so amazing, from being a badass FBI agent, to a wonderful stepmom to Jack, and to being the most kind and selfless person I know. I can’t imagine my life without you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So, will you do me the honor of marrying me?“ He stuttered.

Tears began to fill my eyes and spill out onto my cheeks, my first instinct was to lunch at him, causing his post to fall to the pavement giggling, “yes! Yes of course, I love you Aaron Hotchner.“ I wept. Allowed to hear from the people surrounding us, broke out, we got up and he put The beautiful diamond ring on my finger and we embraced in a loving case. There was no doubt our proposal would be all over the Internet, the team will find out soon but that didn’t matter at this moment. Only we did.

We slowly made our way back to our hotel, Aaron holding my hand and spinning me in circles, showing how happy we both were. We didn’t say much in the elevator, our smiles did most of the talking. As soon as the door opened to our floor, I gave him a mischievous smirk and began running to our room. “Come catch me!“ I yelled.

“Oh just you wait!“ Aaron laughed and followed right behind.

Right as we reached our door he swooped me up and spun me around, us in a giggling fit. He carefully placed me down and tilted  my chin up for a kiss. Because it was innocent at first, but quickly turned needy. He pulled away, opening the door to reveal our room, dimly lit with candles scattered across the room. Rose petals let a small trail from the doorway to the bed. I guessed in all my heart swelling with love. I turn my fiancé, adoration in his eyes, healing down, taking my lips into a sweet kiss. His slightly chapped lips contrasted with my last ones. I wrapped my arms around his neck in an attempt to deep in the kiss. His hands slowly found their place at the small of my back, trailing down just a little bit to give my ass a squeeze.

His tongue swiped across my bottom lip, asking for insurance. Or tongue stance does the candles flickered across the room. I took in the moment, the roses, the candles, my man, and the way he tasted; like mint. I pulled back, glancing into his eyes, all while biting my lip.

He slowly let me backwards towards the bed, until my knees made contact and I fell back, him gently hovering over my small frame. One of his hands roamed up my thigh, to my hip, agonizingly slow between the valley of my breasts, and then gliding over my bottom lip. I think him down into a kiss, his hand found one of mine in and released our fingers as I opened my legs, welcoming him between them. I could feel his hard against my clothes core, bucking my hips up to him, I ground the sensation. He froze for a second instead up, still positioned between my thighs. He ended his button up throwing it somewhere in the dark corner. He ran his fingers along the hem of my dress, looking at me for permission, not going any further, “yes, take it off Aaron,“ need soaked in my voice.

He carefully lifted the red fabric up over my hips and head, discarding it into the blackness. As he started to kiss my neck, finding my sweet spot, I frantically reached for his belt and I’m doing the buckle and tugging his pants and underwear down. As I began to stroke him, he left marks across my chest and breast, a small groan from me. cool let me take care of my future wife,“ he whispered as he trail down my body kneeling at the edge of the bed. He peeled off my panties and one motion. He started to bite and suck on my inner thighs, causing me to whine. “I know baby, I can I’ll give you what you want,“ he smirked as he pulled me closer to him and put my legs over his broad shoulders. He placed a small kiss to my clit, leading to me putting my hands in his hair and slightly tugging. He moaned, sending vibrations to my whole body. He swiftly added two fingers in my wet cunt, pumping them and scissoring me open. He spit up a little, grazing my G spot, causing the coil in my stomach to tighten dangerously fast. I no longer held back my moans, nothing but my voice and what sounds filled the room. “Baby, I’m so close, I’m gonna c-“ I came crashing down with a loud cry. My leg started to shake as he rode me through my high.

Aaron came back up to meet my lips. I tried to flip him on his back so I could taste him, but he stopped me, “we have all the Time in the world for that my love. I want to be inside you.“ He said in his sultry voice. He situated himself between my legs once again, unclasping my bra and reconnecting our lips in a rough kiss. Our tongues fight for dominance.

I reached down and grabbed his cock, rubbing it against my wet slit, eliciting a moan from him. “Quit teasing Y/n”

I guided him to my entrance and he fully sheathed himself in my pussy. I have never felt as full as I do now. With only seconds to adjust, he started trusting, setting a slow bit rough pace. Each other’s names fell from our mouth, along with gas in months. As he thrusted harder, I rake my nails done his back, causing him to tense and speed up a little. I attacked his neck, sucking and biting along his jaw, allowing him to become more vocal, “I don’t think I’m going to last much longer sweetheart.”

“Me too,” I took out. His trust became erratic and fast, so I reached between us and toyed with my clit, chasing my orgasm. I came with a scream of his name, “Aaron!”

Seconds behind me, he released his load inside of me, struggling to catch his breath. He was about to pull out of me when I stopped him. “Can we just stay like this for a little while? I want to remember this, and today.”

He chucked, relaxing and laying his head against my chest. Not long after, we drifted to sleep. aim loving embrace of each other.

To think, soon i’d be “Mrs. Hotchner.”

[aithorin]

A Hero to the Rescue - All Might x Reader

Synopsis: After countless failed attempts at an arcade claw game, you had just about given up hope of ever winning the small, stuffed prize. That is, until a certain hero decides to come to your rescue.

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23256736

Come on....Just a little bit more….YES! Waiting with bated breath, your eyes eagerly watched as the claw wrapped around the plushie and began its slow ascent towards the drop box… only for the plushie to once more fall out of the claw’s grasp. As the claw released nothing but thin air, pitiful sounding music drifted through the air around you as the game proclaimed you a definitive loser. In the dim light of the arcade, a scowl made its way onto your face as you let out a groan of frustration.

“It’s not fair,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, the scowl on your face morphing into a small pout, “This machine is a complete scam.”

All around you, dozens of games tried to attract your attention with flashy lights that only seemed to shine brighter in the dull atmosphere. But you only had eyes for one of them. You fixed a heated glare upon the plushie lying in a deceivingly simple position. Anger coursed through you, distracting you from the fact that you had already spent an ungodly amount of yen trying to obtain the small toy. You were close to your breaking point. Too many times had you excitedly watched the claws of the crane wrap tightly around it only for it to lose its grip after barely lifting it up. But no matter, you had spent too much to just walk away now. You didn’t care how long or how much it took, you would be walking away with that plushie in tow.

“Never fear,” a voice boomed softly within your ear, “for I am here to win you this plushie!”

Caught up in your strange mix of emotions, you failed to notice the figure before he spoke in your ear. Unsurprisingly, you jumped from the sudden voice, but quickly relaxed as you recognized who it was.

Turning around, you caught a glimpse of a familiar mop of blonde hair, and a wide smile slowly spread across your face as you met his blue eyes.

Insufferably plushie momentarily forgotten, you leaped at the figure squealing in excitement, “Toshi! You’re finally here! For a second, I thought you weren’t going to come.”

Letting out a small chuckle, Toshinori caught you with surprising ease for his skinny stature and returned your embrace. After a few moments he let you down gently, his hand making its way to the back of his neck as he sheepishly said,  “I apologize for being late. I got held up by some students.”

Reaching down to grasp his hand, you looked back up at him with a soft smile. “It’s ok! I’m just happy you’re here now.”

At your words, a tint of pink spread across his face, and Toshinori quickly diverted his attention to the game you had spent so long at. Slipping his hand from your grasp, he stepped up to the console, the determined expression spreading across his face matching that of when he was about to face off against a great villain. Clapping his hands together, he declared, “Now then, let’s win you this plushie!”

Moving in beside him, a distinct clink rang through the air around you as Toshinori inserted another 100 yen coin. The game suddenly burst to life, the lights surrounding it beginning to blink furiously as the signature start-up music began to play.

Taking a quick glance at how the plushie was situated, Toshi’s face became the epitome of concentration as the timer started to count down. With his eyebrows furrowed and the tip of his tongue sticking out, Toshinori pressed down on the buttons to begin moving the claw. At his touch, the claw jerked to the left swinging precariously above the plushie.

Watching with anticipation, you followed the movements of the claw as Toshinori made miniscule changes in order to set the claw in the correct position. With one last glance at where it was stationed, Toshinori nodded in approval before pushing the button to drop the claw, seconds before time ran out.

The drop down music floated through the air as the crane inched its way down toward the plushie. As it hovered above the stuffed toy, the claw spread out and finally descended upon the prize. Flickers of excitement flared within you as you watched it once again clamp around the plushie and begin the arduous task of delivering it to the drop box.

Never once taking your eye off the toy, you watched as the claw slowly dragged the toy closer to the drop box. With every movement you allowed the hope to build within you; you were almost sure you would win it this time. Bouncing on your toes, elation spread throughout your body as you realized that FINALLY you would be able to hold the damn thing.

Distracted by your thoughts, you were jerked to attention by the sounds of a happy tune declaring you a winner, just in time to see the claw release it’s prize into the box. Seeing the prize drop, you stood there frozen in shock for a few moments. You had WON. Actually won. Who cares that you had spent an exorbitant amount of yen in order to obtain it because you had won! Well, technically Toshi had won, but it didn’t matter because you finally had that stupid plushie. Shaking your head, you pulled yourself out of your reverie, thoughts racing as you realized, Wait…Oh my God… you had won!

Leaping into action, you scrambled to claim your long awaited prize. Bending down to grab the toy, the panel made a loud smack as you quickly withdrew your hand, plushie in tow. Taking a moment to examine the plushie, you held it out in front of you. The small All Might plushie was definitely as cute as it had looked in the machine, all the way from the iconic red, white, and blue suit to the tell-tale blonde bunny ears sticking out from it’s hair. Pulling it close to your chest, you squeezed the toy tightly, making a silent vow to never let go.

Seeing your elated face at winning, Toshinori couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on his own, but it quickly dropped as unwarranted tendrils of insecurity started to spread through him. Although he felt it was quite silly, he couldn’t help feeling nervous specifically because you were so happy with the prize. Even though it was just a toy, it was a toy of him... in his hero form. The form he could no longer maintain. All he had was this weak, emaciated form that quite frankly wasn’t anything special. Part of Toshinori couldn’t help but wonder if he himself would be enough to make you that happy as well?

Shaking his head to force the depressing thoughts out of his head, he turned his attention back to you. Forcing a smile onto his face, he asked, “Do you like it?”

Furiously nodding your head with a beaming smile painted across your face, you exclaimed, “I love it! Thank you so much, Toshi!”

But as you moved to give him a hug, you paused at seeing the look in his eyes, smile slowly falling from your face. At your words, an almost imperceptible flinch passed over Toshi’s face. Although Toshi would never admit it, you could see that somehow his insecurities were threatening to consume him. You knew that he struggled to see the worth in this form, a struggle made infinitely harder with the loss of his hero form, but to you he had always been the same person. It didn’t matter what he looked like, because you saw him for who he was and it was something you strived to get him to see as well.

Looking back down at the plushie, you suddenly couldn’t remember why it was so important that you had it in the first place. Sure the toy was cute, but you had no need for it really. you had the real thing right in front of you. Holding the plushie by one arm, you let it drop to your side and turned your attention to the man next to you.

Wrapping your other arm around his neck, you brought him down close to you as you whispered, “But you know, I much prefer the real thing.”

Peering into his blue eyes, you slid your arm down to entwine his hand within your own as you leaned in to capture his lips with a kiss.

[insomniac-dot-ink]

We Deserve a Soft Landing, Love

Genre: wlw sci-fi

Words: 4.6k

Summary: An astronaut on the International Space Station gets a transmission from a girl on a dying ship.

They talk as the radiation increases.

Content Warning: death

2036

Astronauts really weren’t supposed to be alone. Not at the space station, it wasn’t made to run that way, three permanent residence were assigned at all times, and they were rarely alone.

But mistakes happen. A gash the size of her forearm down his side, perfectly round red droplets hanging in the air like ping-pong balls in suspended animation. A face as ashen as the grave and yelling. They never yelled.

Sarah Reyes was chosen for her composed personality, composed in theory, less so in practice. She watched her coworker burst open and heard NASA ringing in her ear: what do you even do with a dead body in space?

But he wasn’t gone yet.

They pressed a template they never had before: cрочный спуск, the Soyuz computer sprang to life, emergency.

NASA kept ringing in her ears. Some young women named Janet was talking to her now and she was talking back.

Rod wasn’t going to make the journey if he went back alone. His eyes were barely open and red blooming droplets still swam around the room like liquid party balloons, Sarah never liked the word helpless.

She looked to Nikolai and told him to ‘get the fuck down there,’ someone needed to take the CRV shuttle down with him. Nikolai’s heavy-lidded eyes studied her, he pursed his lips, and she said it once more in Russian and then again in English.

They secured Rod’s bandage a second time, his fever-warm face a distant star on the horizon. She grabbed onto his hand and told them ‘to get the fuck down there.’

They pressed cрочный спуск, the shuttle launched down with Kazakhstan readying down below, God, they had to be ready.

And she was alone.

Astronauts were not supposed to be alone.

The quiet was just as engulfing as the urgency had been before. Janet had apparently gone to take a break and they were on the sun side of the planet. Sarah started counting. It would take them 3.5 minutes to get back to earth. It would take three days for a shuttle to come back to the station. It would take three hours for the shuttle to be attached to the docking port.

It would take some undisclosed amount of time for them to sort out the politics down below. Astronaut’s don’t just burst open. And Sarah was alone.

She continued as normal, there was nothing else to do, she had at the very least three days to herself, and there was cleaning to do. Maintenance, communication. It turned into four days.

She was talking to a young man named Ted on the telecom now and she was sort of starting to hate young men named Ted. Politics were messier than space and no one was even set up to relieve her yet. NASA was in some sort of limbo and Russia wasn’t talking. Sarah was alone.

It was the sixth day when the shuttle finally launched, a crew of three, Sarah had already forgotten their names, but she would have months to memorize them anyway.

She had turned off the intercom for that day, but didn’t notice the static until later when it started echoing off the hallways like a ghost. Sarah didn’t believe in ghosts, though. No self-respecting scientist believed in ghosts.

They were on the planet side of the sun, dark, alone, dumping heat back into the square hallways through the vents.

Sarah heard the first hush of static in her sleep, strapped down and frowning deeply as she screwed her eyes shut. It felt like she was getting tinnitus. For a moment she refused to wake up, she had to keep to her schedule, or else what the fuck else was she going to have up there.

The static breathed again, and her thoughts broke off and on in starts. Finally, she sat up, after all, they don’t know what to do with dead bodies in space. She ripped her sleeping mask off and cocked her head to the side.

Ssshhhhhh

She squirmed out of her restraints and floated to the side of the room, “It’s probably just Yulia messing with the frequencies planet side,” She muttered to herself mostly just to hear the sound her own raw voice in the dark, “Just Yulia…”

She pulled herself up and out and floated over to the communication bay while passing the wide yawning emptiness of the station. It could technically suit ten people, the size of a five-person house, but apparently, earth was still arguing. Two more days.

Sssshhhhhhh

She sighed and followed the noise; she really wasn’t in the mood for any system malfunctions. She tapped on the screen of the newly installed video chat. It sprang to life with the headquarters of NASA asking who she would like to get a hold of today.

Sarah blinked. But no one had been hailing her.

Sssshhhhhh

She looked around and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. None of the devices in the room were lighting up or winking at her. None of them were making any sounds at all. She scratched the back of her hand and accepted the fact that the noise really wasn’t coming from the central communication room.

Sarah turned around in meaningless circles and then left a message to the NASA night crew that there was a possible technical issue on the ISS. Two days before any crew was set to land, Sarah groaned, and it was just her.

She took deep breaths and pushed herself off toward what she could only assume was the source.

Ssssshhhh

She cringed as she crossed the "unity" room into the Russian side of the station, empty as a ghost town and twice as unnerving. But Sarah didn’t believe in ghosts.

Ssssshh-he-sssshh–ll-ssh-o

“Ah!” She clutched at her heart as something, a voice something, echoed off the halls. She took a deep rasping breath and turned in every which direction.

Ssh, hello? It came again.

Sarah’s mouth hung open and she found herself outside of a room that had been used as an old communication hub. It was a relic from a time back when they had separate ones instead of a “bubble of trust” in the center of the station.

Sarah cocked her head to the side and stared. One of the old radios that was attached to the wall and ingrained in the system was making a soft but distinct buzz. It was grey and had a panel of buttons and a microphone attached to a round speaker. Most of the old pre-2025 devices had been removed or repurposed but this one was intact and felt like she was reaching backward in time itself.

She frowned at it and she knew she should go report this. Houston would want to know one of the 2000 models was acting up.

Shhh-h–ssss

Sarah reached forward and her finger hovered in midair over the panel and her eyes glued to the intercom. There was something, a voice-something, bubbling underneath the static.

And, of course, she did believe in aliens.

Sarah pressed down on a feedback button and wet her lips, she leaned down toward the speaker, “Is someone there?”

She held her breath and watched the blinking red light of the transmitter in the dark center of the room. It had been repurposed several years ago to be another storage room.

She blinked, waited a full minute, and suddenly felt a little silly-- she should really be sleeping right now. Or reporting it. She watched the flickering red light and counted.

60 seconds, 180 seconds, 3 minutes, Sarah was about to take her finger off the feedback button when something responded back with clear articulation.

“Oh, thank God,” Sarah’s mouth fell open. It was a woman. She quickly bent over to reply, but the voice kept going, “Can you hear me? Is someone there? I am Lotte De Vos of the Argus, Landing Mission One, ESA. Can you hear me?”

Sarah gasped, “Oh my god--”

Lotte kept speaking quickly, “We have been pushed out off route and…Can anyone hear me?”

“Yes!” Sarah returned as soon as she found her voice again, perhaps yelling into the speaker a little too loudly, “We thought, I, are you safe? We thought the Argus was lost, what’s your status?”

Sarah did the math in her head, it would take four to five minutes for radio waves to transmit between Earth’s orbit and the Argus. The Jupiter moon’s mission.

“I can’t see our location, but I think I am stranded near the atmosphere of Jupiter, repeat I can see the troposphere…I don’t know where I am.”

“Argus,” Sarah rushed to speak, hoping they could balance out their conversation, “I am Sarah Reyes of the International Space Station, NASA, I can hear you loud and clear. What’s your status?”

She waited. Counting, 60 seconds, 2 minutes, 3 minutes, God, she needed to tell someone about this. But she heard the sharp intake of breath on the other end.

“ISS?” Sarah exhaled as the woman responded, “Thank God, okay, this is Lotte De Vos, reporting again from the Argus. The…the life support system is sustaining itself it looks like but none of the ram’s are responding, I think we’re disconnected from the rockets.”

“Miss De Vos,” Sarah hunched over, “What is the status of the crew? How much oxygen do you have left? What…what happened?” She remembered reading about the Argus a week ago. About the radio silence on the other end of one of the most ambitious human-manned missions into their solar system.

One minute. Two minutes. Three. Four.

“I,” She heard the other astronaut falter, “I have the full amount of oxygen left that we carried with us for the return journey.” She paused and a hitch of static filled the air, “The crew is incapacitated.” The voice said flatly and without inflection, “We were hit with an unexpected projectile and pulled into Jupiter’s orbit, we didn’t calculate the full effect of the mass of the planet on our ship it seems,” She chuckled and it was one of the most surprising sounds Sarah had ever heard, “I guess we are still making scientific discoveries.”

“Do you have your satellite? Where is your telecom? We can--”

The delay continued to confuse their conversation, “--it’s acting like a black hole, we tried to fix the rockets to propel us back to the base on Io but there wasn’t enough power, everyone else,” The young women took a deep shaking breath, “They tried to get back to it without the ship. Some of our jets were still working for the suits.”

“Oh my God,” Sarah whispered.

“It didn’t work.”

Sarah waited, making sure Lotte was finished and the full four to five minutes had passed so Lotte could get Sarah’s message.

She heard another laugh on the other side, “We really need a better system than this. How about we say ‘over’ when we’re done talking?” Sarah’s shoulder’s tensed. The woman sounded so young. “Anyway, to answer your question, our telecom was damaged when the projectile thrust us off course, I just recently jury-rigged this device in order to be picked up on low frequencies.” Sarah nodded and Lotte took an audible breath, “Over.”

Sarah pressed her forehead up against the cool metal of the side-paneling; she cleared her throat, “Lotte,” she said quietly, “Do you need me to contact anyone?” It had taken that crew six years to get to Jupiter’s moons. “Over.”

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut.

She heard the next notes like a deflating balloon, “So you’ve figured it out too?” She said with a controlled tremor to her voice, “Well… I have a few people I would like to message if you could write it down. Over."

Sarah floated to the side of the makeshift storage room and found a pen and paper. She wrote down the woman’s mother’s name, her college professor’s email, and her ex-lover’s phone number.

“Do you want me too,” Sarah cringed, “uh, write down messages for them? For me to say to them. Over.”

She waited, she heard a sigh when the four minutes passed, “Just tell my mom I love her. That sort of thing. Tell the professor I wouldn’t be here without her, I mean, not here, in space, in a bad way, shit, actually don’t tell her that. Tell her that her intro classes are still making freshman wet themselves and I love it.” Sarah laughed.

“And the last one?” Sarah asked as she waited for Lotte to come back to her.

Lotte gave a snort, “Flip her off for me. Maybe subtly infer she’s been skipping arm day and is looking a little noodly. That would make my night. Over.”

Sarah chuckled deeply and it was hard for her to take it all in, she should be writing more down. She should be writing it all down. “You know,” Thoughts ran through Sarah’s head like a speeding stop-and-go traffic jam, “Are the rockets really not working? Because a simple continued jury-rig of the thrusters back to the navigation might, hmm, help.”

The response took longer than usual, “Don’t do this me.” Came the hushed reply, “I’ve tried, Sarah, don’t you think I’ve tried? Whoever you are, from wherever. Don’t do it.”

“Sarah Reyes.” She repeated slowly, blinking into the dark. “I’m from Minneapolis.”

Lotte hummed, “Oh…I’m from Belgium. Ghent. Nice to meet you.”

Sarah’s insides felt like they were turning all over the place, “I’ve been to Belgium, it’s very beautiful.”

“Not underwater yet?” The other girl joked, slightly off time due to the time lapse.

“They’re trying their best,” Sarah said with a sniff, “And they never invented a statute called ‘the Twinkie Law,’ so they did better than my city.”

She heard a strange groan from the other end of the line which made Sarah sit up straight, “I would honestly give anything right now for a twinkie. Anything.”

Sarah ended up laughing, “Alright, top ten food goos and then worst goos, go.”

Lotte made a choking sound, “Nooo, Sarah Reyes, all I want right now is some ripe cherries, a medium rare steak, fuck it, a rare steak, and ten twinkie’s, one for every finger. No goo.”

Sarah was snickering, “Well I want a nice hamburger and maybe a salad with ranch dressing. Kleenexes. Running water.” She smiled to herself, “And a proper toilet.”

The silver sound of a laugh came back from the other end, “Wrong answer! The whole reason I went to space was for suction toilets.”

“Oh no, no, no, come. On.” She said emphatically.

“What we all really need is at least one beer each.” Sarah snorted and Lotte bemoaned, “A margarita, two loggers, some vodka, good vodka, the kind the Russians would give to their moms.” Lotte lamented and Sarah shook her head.

“Why did you go to space then?” She asked fondly to the other end, “It’s the last dry county in humanities jurisdiction Dutch girl.”

Lotte huffed another laugh on the other end, “We’re getting personal now? Well, you first, why are you in space hurtling above the earth developing poor bone mass?”

Sarah let herself float up a little higher and used the next minute to think about her answer, she leaned toward the speaker, “Height.”

The five minutes passed and all that came back was a confused, “What?”

“I gain two and a half inches every time I come up here. Eventually, I figure I’ll hit five feet.”

A loud guffaw came back, “Taller! Of course, but what is that in human measurements?”

Sarah rolled her eyes, “Old habits. 6.3 centimeters and 1.5 meters, happy?”

“Woof,” Lotte barked back cheerily, “They really do bring them in smaller each year. Over.”

Sarah exhaled dramatically, “Back to you then Miss Lotte. How tall are you? And, I don’t know, what’s your favorite, hmm, tea?”

Two minutes, three, four.

“Tea? Boring. Do you know how close Jupiter’s atmosphere is to me right now? Ask me about my childhood nightmares and favorite sex position.” Sarah opened her mouth to respond with a dismissive sniff, but Lotte added quietly at the end, “…it’s mint by the way. Peppermint.”

Sarah smiled and she squeezed her eyes shut for a full minute, “Well, my childhood nightmare was Santa having literal claws and strangling me.” Sarah said good-humoredly as she drummed her fingers on her leg and counted the seconds.

“Is that your favorite position as well?”

“Lotte,” She said with a warning tone and considered turning back around toward the communication hub. The next five minutes left her contemplating if it was a crank call-- Houston did have some annoying interns.

“Strangling is perfectly natural, no need to be ashamed. I did it to my barbie dolls and everything.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, “They really do send them up crazier each year.”

Lotte laughed and it was a strained sound with a tin undertone. Sarah pursed her lips together, “Sarah?” Lotte said, barely audible over the static this time.

“Yeah?” She waited.

“Can you see earth?”

Sarah’s shoulders slumped over and she nodded meaninglessly before taking her finger off the feedback button and floating back over to the observatory. Two hours had passed.

She looked out over a deep brown storm cloud over China, a few glowing tendrils of cities and roads, and the textured darkness of the earth side of the sun. She went back to the transmitter, “We’re over the Bahama’s. It’s blue right now, very, very blue.”

She heard the softest of sounds over the radio, “My haul is made of titanium.” Lotte said carefully, “But I’m not sure if the radio waves will be disturbed by the planet’s magnetic field.”

“Oh.” Sarah said back, squeezing her eyes shut, knowing Lotte was still talking.

“And then the radiation will begin anyway,” Lotte made something that was almost a laugh, “remember those numbers okay? Tell my mom. You know. Tell my teacher I wasn’t going to make it without her, but not in this way. And tell Karen to, you know, fuck off.”

“Wait,” Sarah said breathlessly.

“I’m about to be sucked into the atmosphere, wait a little for me, k? We can see if this mess of a radio might hold up. Just wait a little. Then go tell the world I went out fighting. Fighting aliens or a space octopus, tell them that there are definitely space octopuses and the Argus went down swinging.”

“Okay,” Sarah rasped, holding the button down until the tip of her finger bleached white. “Okay!” She racked her brain for what to say, what eulogy’s people ended with or final lasting sentiments that maybe meant something, “I’ll eat some twinkies for you. Ten. One for each finger.”

Sarah waited. Two minutes. Three minutes. Five. Sarah was shaking, this isn’t what she expected when she woke up that morning. The station orbited into the sun side of the planet. What was she even going to tell Houston? How do you start that report?

Sarah rubbed her stinging eyes, “I’ll put them on my fingers too. Eat them in some Dutch coffee shop and kick your ex in the shins.” She pushed her palms into her eye sockets, “Oh God, oh my God.”

Numbness ran up and down her legs and she floated away from the feedback button. She was still glad she didn’t believe in ghosts-- she really didn’t need this one.

She turned back to exit the room and float to somewhere far away and cold and curl up for a little bit.

Shhh–What’s up loser?!

Sarah jumped and turned around instantaneously, “Lotte?!” She jammed her finger on the transmission button.

“Can you hear me? I can’t see out my window right now, but the magnetism might not be messing with my radio as much as I thought. More discoveries for science, yay. Have them name a cockroach after me or something. Unless, of course, you can’t hear me and this is just, you know, the death chasm I’m speaking into--”

“I can hear you!” Sarah yelled as her finger cramped on the switch, the red light flared like a fog horn. “I can hear you, it’s still working!” She didn’t know why she was excited; this girl was entering into one of the most radioactive places in the solar system, Sarah kept her eyes on the speaker.

A tired exhale answered, “You waited after all.”

Sarah bit her lip, “Yeah. I waited.”

The four minutes felt excruciating, “I figure I have around forty-five minutes… Anyway, if you’re curious, it is incredibly hot. If I didn’t have any decency left I would be naked right now.”

Sarah sniffed, “No one can see you, you know. And I imagine it’s burning up.”

The next transmission was garbled, but she could still make it out, “Dying in the void of space is one thing, dying in the void of space butt-naked is another.”

Sarah couldn’t get herself to laugh this time, but she tried, “Well, I’ll tell everyone you were wearing a full suit of armor. Pearls. Evening gloves. The octopus didn’t stand a chance.”

Lotte made a soft sound, “That’s really all I ask, heels too, I miss heels. I felt tall, like one of those small dogs on top of tables? Or the fact you enjoy getting 5 centimeters taller in space?”

Sarah made an exasperated noise, “I don’t suppose you mock all the people you share last words with.”

Lotte gave a soft chuckle, “Just you darling.” A long pause followed and Sarah didn’t move to fill it; Lotte took her time with another slow hissing breath, “Tell me about something.”

Sarah blinked, “I have a collection of coins from the Ottoman empire.”

“Okay,” Lotte sounded faint, “Who was your first crush? Besides 16th century Sultans or something I mean. What was your first book? What's your favorite kiss? Come on,” Lotte snickered weakly, “I’m dying here.”

Sarah’s skin felt too tight, itching in the dark, “My crush was Martina Rodriquez. Fifth grade, she punched me in the face once after I told her that her that her nose was crooked. I learned to read when I was three so I don’t really remember the books, accelerated learning and all that. I learned to speak in full sentences when I was six. My first kiss was,” Sarah sighed, “Don’t laugh okay? In my college’s chemistry lab, age 23.” She said all of it quickly with pained breaths, time was measured in fours and fives.

A laugh came back from the other side of the universe anyway, “Chemistry lab? God, you’re the one giving astronauts a nerdy name.”

“Hey!”

“And it’s cute. You sound cute. I’m sure you’re very smart too, can probably name way too many numbers of pi.” She could, “I guess I was like that too…Why I’m up here.” Lotte trailed off.

“Why are you up here?” Seven minutes passed.

“I saw Cassiopeia one night… my grandpa told me they hung her upside down in the night sky to punish her. I fell in love,” Sarah clenched her jaw tight, “I guess you could say that’s how it happened. Love or whatever.”

“Lotte--” Sarah put her face next to the speaker.

“You know, I always thought this is what I wanted to do.” Lotte was faltering, “And it is.” She repeated with a slight hysteria and frantic-edge to her words, “I think it was always what I wanted to do. Always.” There came a pause and Sarah heard a strangled retching noise on the other side.

“Lotte!” She yelled into the intercom, “Lotte, are alright?”

It took a very long time before she got a response and then she was back to waiting, “Yeah,” A voice finally said hoarsely, “Just…puking. You know, when you get to see food goo all over again? That feeling.” Lotte sounded like she was trying to laugh, “Sarah?”

“Yeah?”

“Who was this first kiss?” Lotte asked quietly before sniffing, “Was she cuter than me? I hope not… And then, what’s, what’s your favorite tea?”

Sarah squeezed her free hand closed, balling it up into a painful fist and digging her nails in, “No. She was a PhD. student and thought that Potato Poots was a good pet name. She…” Sarah snorted, “Wasn’t cuter than you, promise. My, my, favorite tea is Black tea. I used to drink it with my aunts.”

Two minutes. Three minutes. Six.

“Potato Poots? Take that back, that is a wonderful pet name and now I’m going to date this girl that was your first kiss,” Sarah chuckled, “Black tea is a good choice. The closest one to coffee. My brother owns a coffee shop,” Lotte was talking quickly now, “Visit him too. Tell him…I’m sorry. I’m sorry we fought so much, God, for everything.”

“Yes, yes, I mean--”

“Tell all of them I loved them. Dammit, even Karen, tell her to get her shit together. None of this…none of anything else. Nothing else matters.”

Sarah sighed and her entire body was shaking, “I can do that, yes. Lotte, we won’t forget.”

“That I died naked in the void of space?” Lotte returned back after seven minutes, “Because that’s a thing now.”

“Naked, fighting an octopus, right?” Sarah said with her face straining into a smile.

“Yeah.” Lotte was panting on the other end now, but her voice came through. “Who was your first love, Sarah?”

Sarah felt her mouth go dry, she hadn’t drunk anything in hours. Houston would be furious. “I’ve never been in love.” She whispered back, “I just wanted to do…this.” She flinched at the wording.

Lotte took eight minutes to respond, “Yeah?” She said breathlessly, “Well. Do that for me, k? Being in love is nice. It’s like this, except no one is riding into the next layer of Jupiter’s helium.”

Sarah gave a weak smile, “It’s like this?”

“It’s like this.” Wheezing, “Go do that for me.”

“How’re you feeling?” Sarah tried to get her to keep talking and Lotte told her that she threw up again. Sarah could hear audible strained audible breathing through the speaker, she was gasping.

“We weren’t really over the Bahama’s, were we?”

Sarah frowned and she looked toward where the window would be, “It was dark out, yeah. But the cities were bright. Like stars, we always liked stars, right? People like us.”

“People like us collect Ottoman coins and cover their hands in Twinkies Sarah.”

She smiled, “Good. I hear that’s what being in love is like.”

Lotte coughed, a deep gurgling sound that filled the air, “Sounds dumb.”

“It is.”

Sarah could hear her fading out, “Lotte? Lotte how’re you--”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck--” A sob shook the speaker.

“Lotte.”

“FUCK, I don’t want to die.”

“Wait, wait, no, it’s going to be okay.”

“Quick, tell me something nice to say, something good, God, GOD, I wish I had been good. I wish had been better.”

“Wait! Wait, no.”

“Sarah,” She could hear the crying now, the sickly wet tremor in her voice, “Sarah I can’t see anything. It’s so hot, oh my god, I can’t do this, SARAH-”

Sarah screamed back into the mic, “I’m here! I’m here! Wait!”

No sound came back from the other side, Sarah’s eyes went wide, and she counted up to a thousand. She couldn’t feel her teeth.

“One thousand and four, one thousand and five, Lotte? Lotte De Vos, can you hear me?” Five minutes. Ten minutes.

Sarah curled up into herself and pulled on her hair, her other finger still on the transmission button and the room bathed in the one red light, “Lotte," She blared, "Lotte!” It was a wretched, animalistic scream, but it wasn’t for the radio, it wasn’t for her.

She wished she believed in ghosts.

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

Sarah Reyes went back to earth within the fortnight. She told them she wasn't feeling well. She told them about the Argus. They told her to take some time off, she told them she wasn't coming back.

Sarah went to Belgium, she gave a very nice older woman a hug, she got a lifetime’s promise of free coffee, and she looked at painting after painting done by people she realized were now dead. She smiled at the nice young woman across the street that sold flowers and she didn't say hi, but she did wave this time. It was a place to start. Lotte would have wanted something like that.

FIN

Hey! All my hours were cut at my job bc of coronavirus, if you enjoyed my writing please, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or becoming a patron I could really use the help!

[honeysuckle-writings]

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 1. I JUST REALLY WANTED TO GET THIS OFF MY CHEST BECAUSE I AM A FILTHY KINNIE

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

"Kokichi I said don't follow me."

"But Ran Ran please!"

Kokichi whined at the taller male in front of him. His hands were balled into fist in front of him and his face was squished into a pout. Rantaro sighed and frowned. He had told Kokichi over and over again that he wanted to go about things on his own for a little while and he certainly kept his plan a secret much to Kokichi's displeasure. One of his main reasons being he didn't want Kokichi to get hurt if something were to happen.

"But I can keep watch! Hell I could sneak into places because you're too tall! I can lock pick! You need my expertise." Kokichi stated matter of factly and m shoved his fist onto his hips.

Rantaro's green eyes locked on to the purple eyes in front of him, a soft smile replacing the frown. He could feel his chest tightening at having to keep Kokichi at a distance. He knew things like this would mess with his head and push any ounce of trust he had gained through their small amount of time together out of the window. Kokichi wouldn't get close to anyone so carelessly. The fact that Rantaro was able to dip his finger tips past the cracks in the walls Kokichi had up was both a blessing and a curse.

From day one, Kokochi seemed to latch on to Rantaro. Something about each other acted as a magnet to the other. Neither of them were quite sure what it was but they didn't find it pivotal to question. Kokichi didn't know what personal space was but Rantaro didn't mind. He would knock and come into Rantaro's room as soon as it was open the tinest bit and before Rantaro could properly invite him in.

He also noticed pretty early on that Rantaro had some information none of the others did. Kokichi hung around him and called it "keeping and eye on him" in case he was the mastermind since he was so suspicious. Rantaro knew that was not quite the truth the first time Kokichi let down a wall and fell asleep in his bed.

From then on Kokichi would make his way into Rantaro's bedroom each night. Sometimes he would leave in the middle of the night. Other times they were so caught up in laughing at each others antics that neither of them noticed when they would both doze off. Kokichi got to see the goofy side of Rantaro. Like when he would bump into something in his room and knock it over and respond with "Sorry. I've just got a fat ass." Or, "Who fucked the legend? Who fucked the legend Danny Devito?" After a random thought process. It was refreshing to know he was just as silly and could keep up with Kokichi's antics.

The two had become inseparable, but not to anyone around them. They kept their stuff private to not attract any unwanted attention or questions. It was safer for the both of them to work together in secrecy. Kokichi would still throw jokes at him across the table at breakfast or make flirty remarks but in a way that made everyone think he was completely faking it.

"I'll tell you what," Rantaro reached out and held Kokichi's shoulder gently. "If you let me go do this on my own and I get us out of here, I promise I will have you by my side when we escape. Okay? I won't just forget about you and move out when were out." He squeezed his grip only slightly to affirm his own statement.

Kokichi deadpanned and never took his eyes off of Rantaro's as he processed the words. He wanted to believe him. He really did, but something didn't seem right. "No." His voice was monotone.

"What do you mean no?" Rantaro raised an eyebrow.

Rantaro's confidence really was something to admire. Kokichi knew that Rantaro had something up those billowing sleeves of his. Something no one else here had.

"Just kidding!" Kokichi flashed a cheeky grin. "Fine. I'll let you do whatever you need to. Just please don't get yourself hurt okay? I don't wanna have to clean up your mess!" Kokichi poked Rantaro in the chest and stuck his tongue out.

A smile returned to Rantaro's face. He knew full well that Kokichi was just lying to keep his emotions about it safe.

"You need to stay out of the way and I'm serious. For your sake, just stay inside your room or something. I promise that I will be back okay?" He pulled Kokichi into a hug and held him there, an arm around his shoulders and the other hand behind Kokichi's head. It took a moment, but Kokichi finally wrapped his arms around Rantaro's waist and buried his face into his chest. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes to just be with each other, both of them uncertain of the outcome of Rantaro's plan.

Rantaro leaned down and kissed the top of Kokichi's fluffy hair before pulling back, a little reluctantly.

"I've gotta go now okay? Time is running out and I really need to this for everyone." The aura had changed back to a serious tone now and Kokichi knew that meant business.

"Okay. I love you Ran Ran." Kokichi pulled back and turned away, not wanting to watch Rantaro leave from his room.

There was no joke or lie at the end which was unusual for Kokichi.

"I love you too Kichi."

Time seemed to go by so slow as Kokichi tried to busy himself in his room. Sheets of paper surrounded him on the bed as he tried desperately to distract himself. He tried napping but no one could sleep at a time like this.

Suddenly the monitor turned on. Kokichi's heart leaped and he wondered if he would see Rantaro's face appear. Maybe he had defeated Monokuma in a cool ninja fight and had taken over the system.

The loud music that began blaring almost made him jump out of bed. He rushed over to the monitor and jumped up and down trying to even reach it, hoping there was a volume button but it was no use. He covered his ears and went for the door, reaching out for the handle but Rantaros voice from earlier stopped him. In one hour everything would be over. "Dont follow me

I promise I'll be back."

Kokichi's hand hovered over the knob, trembling slightly. His stomach churned as he struggled to decide whether he should trust him or not. He didn't realize tears had welled into his eyes until one began to drop down his cheek. The thought of dying scared him. If Rantaro failed and they all died, Kokichi would be here alone for it. His whole body shook and he let out a sob. So much for being strong through it all.

He jerked his hand back and groaned in frustration. The music surrounding him made it hard to think. As sudden as the music started, it shut off just as abruptly.

Kokichi looked up at the monitor with wide terror filled eyes. What was going to happen now? Would it be sudden or would they have to endure it slowly?

What he didn't expect was to be shaken out of his thoughts but the unwelcomed voice of Monokuma.

"A body has been discovered! Please, make your way to the library to begin investigation!"

Throwing all his previous thoughts out, Kokichi swung his door open and ran as fast as he legs would go, catching up with Iruma, Hoshi, Korekiyo, Kirumi, and Kiibo.

The sight before him once he reached the back of library made his vision begin to grow blurry. The sound of his heart strings snapping into loose strings in his chest blocked out the sounds of those around him.

There laid Rantaro, dead, in a puddle of his own blood.

No. No no no no no.

"This is a lie right?" Tears were falling down his cheeks as he spoke and his lip quivered as he tried to keep a sob in. "My dearest Rantaro is dea- I mean was killed?" His voice squeaked and he cried out.

"Oh shut up would you? It's not like you even cared." Tenko shot at him.

Kokichi immediately stopped, save for a few sniffles as he tried to collect himself. No one here would believe him anyway. They all thought he was a heartless monster and he knew it. The looks he was recieving told it all. "Nishishi! You caught me! Thank goodness this thing isn't boring anymore!" He threw his hands behind his head and grinned wide enough to make his eyes squint closed. His abdomen burned as he gulped and felt his emotions plummet to the bottom of his stomach.

It felt like a slap in the face when no one took the first blood perk. Why would someone do something like that to someone like Rantaro. He didn't even do anything wrong. Kokichi wanted to scream and lash out at everyone surrounding Monokuma when they were faced with actually having to have a trial.

While the others were fixated on arguing with Monokuma, Kokichi snuck over to Rantaro's body. One last look at the boy had actually began to rebuild his thoughts on humanity. He squatted down quietly and let his finger tips brush against Rantaro's still warm cheek on his way to his collar. He clasped his fingers around a chain and yanked it off with ease. He kept a good hold on it with his index finger as he let it droop down his forearm into his sleeve to hide it.

"Well if you'll excuse me!" He suddenly shouted. "I have to do some investigating by myself. I don't need anyone with me to figure this out. Good luck everyone!"

"Oh no you don't. You can't get out of this that easily." Kaito stormed towards him but Kaede stopped him.

"Let him go. We will catch up with him later." Kaede kept her arm out to keep him in place.

Kaito huffed and glared at Kokichi but Kokichi didn't care. He just walked slowly out of the library and made his way back to his room without taking another look behind.

As Kokichi walked, he took the necklace out of his sleeve and examined it. This was the only thing he had left of him. No one would take this away from him. He slipped the necklace up under his checkered scarf and clasped it behind his neck. It was perfectly hidden from everyone else but he would know it was there.

As soon as Kokichi walked into his dorm and shut the door, he hoped that either they were sound proof or the others were still down in the library. A scream pierced the room as Kokichi broke down.

He jumped on to the bed and began hitting his pillows as he sobbed, getting out everything he could.

"You promised! You promised!"

He repeated to himself over and over. He cried until he began gagging at how hard he was crying and how scratchy his throat was becoming. Nothing felt real anymore. Rantaro was gone and now he was alone. Kokichi wished it was him instead. What he wouldn't give to be in Rantaro's place now.

"You asshole!" His voice was giving out and he was beginning to feel nauseous.

"It should have been me." The confession came out a whisper as fatigue came over his body. Everything began to settle into a numbness as he curled up on to the bed. With the last bit of energy he could muster, he reached up and held the pendant in the palm of his hand.

Kokichi wouldn't let Rantaro's death be for nothing. It was not fair for someone with his heart to be taken out of the world like that. No matter what it took, Kokichi would make sure they got out of there. That was Rantaro's plan, his wish, and Kokichi would follow through with it. Even if it meant they all saw him in a bad light until the end. He would learn to be alone again.

[sushiandstarlight]

Cookies: Chapter 16

This chapter includes yesterday’s prompt “evergreen” and today’s prompt “lights.”

Previous Story: Of All The Beds In All The Hotels In All The World

Chapter 1-3 / Chapter 4 / Chapters 5 & 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 

Read this chapter on AO3

Rated: G, light teen for suggestion, nothing explicit

It took some amount of time to get downstairs, what with the way Crowley pinned his angel to the bed. And then Aziraphale's wandering hands in the shower. And the way they wound up snogging each other senseless at the top of the stairs, almost winding up at the bottom by way of running afoul of gravity. By the time they made their entrance into the kitchen, hands linked, they were pink in the face and couldn't stop smiling at one another.

That was, until Aziraphale saw the pies lined up on the kitchen island: apple crumble, cherry lattice with sparkling sugar on top, and mince were all present but also accompanied by blackberry and peach. Aziraphale drew close and hovered over the pies, cooing about how beautiful they were. He reached out to touch one, but Edie smacked his hand with a spatula.

“Ow!” he yelped, yanking back his hand.

“They are for dinner tomorrow night,” Edie sounded deathly serious.

“Oh, alright, but they are beautiful,” Aziraphale sat on one of the barstools, continuing to admire them. Crowley recognized the rapt attention, remembering how Aziraphale had looked at him in the shower. He took a quick mental turn from that image before he was overwhelmed with the urge to grab the angel's wrist and drag him back to their bedroom.

“What have we got here, then?” Crowley sauntered to the counter, also admiring the pies. They were a thing of beauty. Gladys and Edie clearly had talent. Edie pointed out each type with the spatula and Crowley crowed, “you missed a couple, Angel. Off your game.”

“I was a bit distracted,” Aziraphale hmphed. Crowley approached his stool and spun it around to face him.

“You can only smell some pies over my mouth-watering aroma, then?”

“Or maybe you still smell like butter and sugar. It's distracting.”

“I've bathed!”

“I know, I helped!”

Crowley felt his face go crimson. He looked over at the ladies only to find them looking suddenly very busy facing the opposite counter.

“Maybe I'll be rubbing down with butter and sugar every day for you when we get home,” Crowley pressed his forehead to Aziraphale's and smirked at him.

“Oh, that would be a terrible mess on my sheets.”

“Tell me, in this vision are they tartan?”

“...yes.”

“No loss there.”

“Hey!”

“That's okay, Angel,” Crowley wagged his eyebrows at him, “they're tartan in my vision, too.”

Aziraphale smiled and wiggled happily on the stool.

“Alright, that's enough mushiness near the pies, you're going to melt the pastry,” Edie swatted Crowley with a tea towel.

“Fine, fine. We'll move it along,” Crowley made a motion towards the sun room and set off for it. Aziraphale lingered, smiling bashfully at Edie and Gladys.

“You don't really mind, do you?” Aziraphale stood to leave.

“Nah,” Gladys winked at him and handed him a tiny mince pie, “Run along, now.”

Aziraphale smiled broadly and left, catching up with Crowley.

“Pssh, really?” Crowley had spotted the pie.

“Told you she likes me,” Aziraphale's smile was smug now.

“I think you're the favorite.”

“Do you want a piece.”

“Nah, I would rather watch you eat it.”

“I still don't understand what you get out of watching me eat,” Aziraphale sat on the loveseat, peering up at him. Crowley hadn't actually meant to say that out loud.

“Well,” he shrugged, going for casual, “I like to watch you take pleasure in things. I like knowing you're enjoying yourself.” He sprawled on the other side of the loveseat, managing to take up most of the room while Aziraphale sat up properly. He rested his head on the back of the sofa and waited, watching Aziraphale with a lazy smile on his face.

“Could you...” Aziraphale trailed off, looking away.

“Naw, now don't do that,” Crowley nudged the angel's knee with his own, “Whatever you want.”

“Oh, that's a list,” he looked back at Crowley, “I wondered if you might tip your glasses down while you watch me. I like watching you, too. Your eyes... they're so expressive.”

“Didn't know you liked 'em,” Crowley pulled his shades down his nose part way and peered at Aziraphale.

“I do. I like that you take them off when we're alone.”

“I've got nothing to hide from you,” Crowley watched as he took a small bit of the pie and hummed happily, “Except for Christmas.”

“Yes, I suppose that makes two of us.”

“Tomorrow, no secrets then.”

“Yes, I will feel better not keeping it from you.”

Crowley grunted, watching him take another bite and let out another hum, wiggling on the part of the cushion that Crowley wasn't currently sprawled over. Crowley kept watching him even as he finished, patting the sides of his lips with a napkin and brushing invisible crumbs off his trousers.

“It was one thing,” Crowley cleared his throat, but it did nothing to get rid of the gravelly sound his voice had dipped into, “before I knew what you sounded like when you... you know. Those little sounds you make, Angel, they would keep me up at night after our dinner dates. But, now I know...” He shifted in his seat, glancing at the door and pushing up his glasses.

“Maybe a little dessert is in order.”

“Dessert,” Crowley blinked, confused, “But you just had pie.”

“It really does devil with your brains, doesn't it?”

“What?”

Aziraphale stood and made for the door, leaving the confused demon still on the sofa as he turned and went up the stairs.

“You dummy,” Edie poked her head around the door frame, from out of nowhere, “he wants you for dessert! You best get up there.”

He should have been mortified, but instead he just smiled at her and hoped he'd willed down the color that wanted to rush to his cheeks.

She high-fived him as he ran past her.

-

After supper it was decided that they would all go out and have a look at the lights that Aziraphale had been diligently hanging outside the inn. Crowley was happy enough to look at them, but still reluctant on account of the weather. The snow had continued to fall and it was ankle-deep now. He shivered as he peered out the the front door.

“You're not going out like that!” Gladys was behind him, shoving a long black coat into his hands, “You'll catch your death. I insist.” She watched him as he put it on and buttoned it and then wrapped a red and green scarf around his neck enough times that his chin was nearly lost inside it. And then she handed him mittens.

“Really? Where on this planet did you find men's sized mittens?”

“I made them.”

“What? Why?”

“For you! You always look cold. You make me cold just looking at you sometimes.”

He put on the green mittens, even though they made him feel silly. Pretty much instantly his hands felt warmer, but he wasn't about to tell her that. One look from her, told him she already knew, though.

“See, I thought you might take better care of yourself if doing so meant using a meaningful gift.”

Crowley clutched his hands to his chest and leaned in to her, whispering, “I'll treasure them, really.”

“Don't much care for treasuring, I'll be happy knowing you're using them.”

Aziraphale bustled by them in a cream-colored overcoat. He also had knitted mittens, but they were white with faux fur around the wrists. He pulled on a matching hat and stood by the door.

“Are we ready to go have a look?” Aziraphale craned to look past Gladys, “Where's Edie.”

“I'm coming, I'm coming!” Edie appeared from the kitchen with a tray of hot chocolates and passed them out. “No need to stand around out there freezing our buns off without something to keep us properly warm.”

“Finally, someone's speaking sense.”

“Oh, you poor dear,” she handed him his cocoa and patted his cheek- her hand was still warm from holding the cup- “if I'm the one speaking sense, we're in loads of trouble.”

Aziraphale opened the door and led them out into the parking lot. There wasn't a strong wind, but enough that it nipped sharply at Crowley's ears as he followed behind the others. He burrowed his face down into the scarf.

“Alright, turn back... now,” Aziraphale walked around and stood behind them as they turned back to the inn. They gasped and smiled and turned one at a time to congratulate him: The whole front of the inn was outlined in white lights, gently fading off and on at random. The walls were outlined in red and draped with net lights the same color. All the bushes were strewn with red and green lights.

Crowley was staring hard at the white lights, trying to discern a pattern to their tranquil flashing when he felt something warm and fuzzy slide over his ears. He jumped, reaching up to find earmuffs.

“Wha-”

“Consider it an early Christmas present,” Aziraphale hugged him from behind. There were too many layers to feel the angel's warmth and Crowley felt the pity of it. Still, his ears had stopped stinging.

“Thanks,” he leaned back and kissed the angel's chilly cheek and shivered dramatically, “The lights are beautiful.”

Gladys appeared in front of them and clutched both of their chins.

“You boys have made this Christmas so special, you know that right? We couldn't have done all of this without you.” She was looking at them very earnestly from beneath the low brim of her knit cap. It had a giant pompom on top that was wiggling with the light breeze.

“I think we're thoroughly enjoying our stay,” Aziraphale's voice sounded a little pinched.

“I think we'll all enjoy our stay more inside,” Crowley burrowed up to his sunglasses into the scarf around his neck, “Not that the lights aren't pretty.”

They went back inside, still sipping their cocoa.

“By the way,” Gladys said as she unbuttoned her coat and hung it on one of the hooks by the door, “I got a call from the group holding the bake sale. All the baskets sold.”

“Oh, what marvelous news!” Aziraphale clapped his hands together happily.

“Someone, one person, bought all of them.”

“Wow, that's a lot of cookies for one person...” Crowley grumbled.

“And then donated the cookies to the orphans...” Gladys was eyeing them suspiciously.

“Don't look at me! I've been here the whole time,” Crowley squawked.

“I do wish I had thought of it, but I confess that I didn't,” Aziraphale looked honestly contrite.

“Whoever did it, it was an unexpected kindness,” Edie was still eyeing Crowley who shrugged at her.

“Anyway,” Gladys threw up her hands, giving up on having an answer tonight, “We all better get to bed. Santa's coming tonight! But he won't visit until we're all in our beds. Goodnight, boys.”

“Goodnight, Gladys. Edie.” Aziraphale nodded to them and they watched the two wander off down the hall.

“You,” Aziraphale turned to Crowley, “You bought all the cookies, didn't you?”

“Yeah.”

“That was a wonderful thing to do.”

“Nah, it was alright.”

“The children will love them.”

“Come on now.”

“I think,” Crowley found himself being pressed against the nearest flat surface- the wall, thankfully next to the coat hooks,- and kissed sweetly, “You should be rewarded for your good deed.”

“Is it a good deed if there's a reward?”

“Sure, if the reward was unexpected,” Aziraphale practically dragged him up the stairs. As if he was going to protest.

Chapter 17 is now up!

[pandoraimperatrix]

Four Names for Love

Gotham | BatCat | BabyFic | Multi-chapter | Read on AO3

Summary: When Bruce parted ways with Gotham he was leaving behind more than he thought. Meanwhile Selina is trying to find a way to herself after being abandoned again and on top of that she finds out she was left with a lot more than a heartbreak.

Eros part I

The following sections of the story are missing moments from the 5th season.

(eros)

I love you against a wall, your teeth grazing my inner thigh my fingers wrapped in your hair. —           one, two, three, four - a.j. (via ibuzoo)

 ‘Whachadoin?’

‘Good lord! Selina! You scared me!’

She burst into a fit of giggles pleased with herself, Bruce couldn’t help but smile too, despite his racing heart, a while ago he thought he would never see her laughing like that again. Selina fell heavily next to him on the bed where he was sitting against the headboard, no regards for personal space at all.

‘Shouldn’t you be resting?’

She furrowed her brows, annoyed.

‘I’ve already told you. I’m done with resting. I went to the Sirens, couldn’t go around wearing that weird hospital gown forever. Got my whip back too, wanna see?’

They shared a look, his eyes drinking in each leather-covered part of her, almost in an indecent way, and further than a slight red glow on her smiling cheeks, she didn’t seem to be offend with his attentions at all, she actually looked even more pleased and mellow, leaning into his side just a little bit more.

‘No. This room is really small, and I’m sure I’ll have the opportunity to see you put it in action soon enough.’

‘Your loss, then.’ But she didn’t seem upset at that either. So much of Selina’s words didn’t match her actions. It used to drive Bruce crazy when they were younger, but now, it was one of the things that made her so appealing to him. Like she was a mystery for him to solve, and as much as frustrating it was always being dragged to square one when he thinks he finally has her figured out, it was also that what made he come back for more every time.

‘Hey, dance with me?’

She snorted and gave him that look in which he could see in her face the amounts of silly she found him to be. It was a lot. No offense taken, he actually liked when she patronized him, it was endearing.

‘There is no music, dumdum.’

He stood up from the bed, Selina got caught by surprise with his sudden move and almost slid down to a lying position without his body to support. Bruce walked around the bed and unstuck a pair of earbuds and an mp3 player from his pocket; he offered a bud to Selina.

‘Come.’

‘But you said there was no batteries anymore.’

‘I’ve found one working. Come.’ He offered again.

‘Okay…’ She said unsurely, but got up and pushed her curls away to put the earbud. He took her wrists and urged her to step in closer to him putting her arms around his neck, and then he pressed play.

Selina frowned when she listened some old timey piano, then she had to lower her head against his chest to laugh.

‘This is what you have on your super modern rich boy device? Some sad old man song? Why am I not surprised?’

‘Shh, pay attention to the lyrics.’

‘This is so stupid, and you are such a sap.’

His hands around her waist pressed her just a little firmer against him for that, but she didn’t protest when he slowly started moving their bodies together, instead, she rested her head on his shoulder and let her eyes fall shut. They stood like that for short moment until Bruce started to sing along off-key followed by her muffled giggles against his neck.

‘You can say that you're leading me on But it's just what I want you to do Don't you notice how hopelessly I'm lost That's why I'm following you’

‘You are so lucky you’re already filthy rich, kid, because if you had to sing for your supper you’d starve. No, scratch that, I’d personally end your misery by killing you if I had to share a street corner with you.’

With a smile on his face, and spinning them both around the tiny room despite the slow cadence of the music, Bruce followed the last part loudly ignoring Selina laughs and protests.

‘On my own Would I wander through this wonderland alone Never knowing my right foot from my left My hat from my glove I'm too misty and too much in love

Look at me’

She did. And instead of keep making fun of him, Selina slid her hands from to his neck to his face bringing him down for a kiss. The first was chaste, didn’t last much. Sighing, Bruce ended it, letting his forehead fall against hers.

‘I almost lost you.’

Her thumbs rubbed his cheekbones lovingly, his eyes were closed, but hers were open studying the shadows of is dark eyelashes on his fair skin.  She loved those moments in which she could just look at him without being seen, when there was no judgement, not even her own.

‘I’m here now.’ She whispered. ‘I’m here whenever you need me.’

He looked at her, she swallowed hard when faced with the intensity of the feelings in his eyes.

Selina carefully took the earbud from herself then from Bruce. She put the device safely away, then she slowly took off her gloves, then her jacket, well aware of his unbreakable gaze. She gave him a half smile before pulling him closer by his own jacket. She kissed his chin, then the corner of his lips.

‘Selina what are you doing?’

‘What does it looks like?’

‘But you are recovering.’

‘I’m fine, Bruce, really.’

‘But…’

‘If you don’t want to just say it, I’ll go.’ But by the way she said it, it was clear to both of them that she wasn’t going anywhere. She smiled coyly and helped him take off his own jacket, as her hands worked, Bruce dipped his head in the curve of her neck, taking in her smell hungrily. She smelled of antiseptic soap, old leather, and something salty and rich that he learned to associate with her and Gotham streets when it was dark but the moonlight hit the cobblestones just right. Selina and Gotham. There couldn’t be one without the other to Bruce, and in the last days he felt both of them slipping through his fingers. It was maddening. When he felt the last of the leather slip off from his arms hitting the floor, he led his hands to her waist, pushing the fabric of her shit up just a bit so he could touch skin, she shivered.

‘Are you cold?’ He whispered on her ear, a wave of pride hitting him south when she purred softly.

‘No.’

He pushed her hair away, kissing her from the ear to her eyes, her nose, then finally her lips. This time it was far from a chaste kiss. He felt her fisting the fabric covering his back when he tipped his tongue between the seam of her lips, and she let him in. It was a messy kiss that one. Teeth clicking awkwardly, and misplaced tongues until they fell in a more comfortable rhythm.    

Selina was panting when they broke up.

‘Take…’ She inhaled. ‘That that stupid thing off.’ She ordered tugging his jumper.

He chuckled but obeyed, his hair sticking up in odd places, ruining the dangerous look he tried to give in and denouncing how young he actually was. Then he focused on her own shirt, lifting it slowly and without breaking eye contact whit her, those huge green pools, so expressive, often filled with mirth or distrust, now darkened with lust.

‘Eyes up here, Bruce.’ She said after he threw her shirt on the bed and couldn’t help but admire the swell of her breasts held by the lacy black fabric.

He gave her a boyish smile, then became very serious.

‘Have you done this before?’

A hit of pain crossed her face and she looked away, he wanted to kick himself.

‘Not properly, but you have, haven’t you?’

He sighed and touched her tenderly, the back of his fingers on her neck and collarbone, he had no many freckles he wanted to connect them all and give their constellation names.

‘It’s different.’

She looked back at him, confused.

‘It’s you.’ He explained.

She felt like the breath was stolen from her lungs.

Selina kissed him again. ‘Just don’t hurt me.’ She said between kisses. ‘Never.’ He promised husky.

He pushed her to the bed, lying her down. The bed gave in a little to his weight when Bruce put one knee between Selina’s legs, one hand supporting him as he hovered over her, and the other caressing one side of her body accompanied for this lips on the other side. He took his time cupping her breast over the lace, rubbing the most sensitive part with his thumb, smiled at her nipple as it hardened under his kiss. But he kept downwards, kneading her waist, kissing her belly until he reached the waistband of her jeans. He looked up silently requesting permission.

‘Come here.’

He did. She grabbed the back of his head firmly, Bruce moaned with the ferocity of her kiss. Selina flipped them over, straddling him. She thrusted her hips against him and Bruce moaned one more time, so she it again, and again feeling him swell under her without stop kissing him once. His hands got caught in the tangle of her hair and they finally had break a little, giggling, to free him. His hands fell then to her hips and she rubbed her centre against him one more time feeling all the pleasure the delicious fiction brought to them both. Bruce’s hands slid upwards to her back and Selina arched a little to help him as he undid her bra. His gaze was meticulous as he followed the fabric sliding through her skin revealing one more piece of her that he had never explored before.

He held a hand to her face.

‘You are so beautiful.’

She rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t resist the smile curving her lips, hating herself a little for how those cliché words made her feel.

But her answer was to undo his crotch button.  

 Despite wanting to write about them dancing to Misty by Johnny Mathis since forever (I’m not an old man, I swear, I’m just a 26 years old woman with weird taste in music) Bruce singing badly to Selina is something inspired buy my currently favourite fic THE DANGERS OF KNITTING by deaddennis, go read it!

For the next post you will get a little more of sweet sweet romance until we go back to reality.

[pens-swords-stuff]

I feel like I should remind everyone that I actually write sometimes too — shocking, I know. So here’s a thing I wrote a long time ago, just to pretend that I’m a real Writeblr for a bit.

If there ever was a reason to be grateful, it was that Blake lives in a time where coffee and other sources of caffeine are readily available. Although it was just before 9 o'clock in the morning, she was already half-way through her second mug and a small tower of used creamers were stacked unevenly at the corner of her desk. Damn those early morning meetings; was it really necessary to gather everyone under the age of twenty-five early in the morning to discuss the implications of retweets? The Capital was full of old, decrepit people who would still use fax machines if they could. At this point, Blake was sure she was spending more time teaching her superiors how to use computers instead of her actual job.

And they said that the life of a journalist wasn't glamourous.

Her desk was full of unfinished drafts, photographs, and other piles of papers stacked haphazardly over every inch of the surface. With a sigh, Blake just piled the existing piles on top of each other to create a precarious mountain of paper to clear out some space. It was organized chaos at its finest — her desk may be a mess, but she knew where everything was... Or at least she hoped.

With a heavy sigh and tapping fingers fueled by coffee jitters, Blake impatiently waited for her computer to load web pages. Fingers automatically typed up ‘twitter.com’ into the address bar, but she thought better of it and quickly hit backspace. After lecturing a sixty-year old crusty, balding man on how to navigate the 'tweeter-sphere', she really wasn't in the mood to revisit the social media site and its apparently impossible-to-use interface.

When she logged into her email account, it was no surprise that hundreds of unread emails were blinking on the browser. 317 emails to be exact, the red bubble notification on her phone had been mocking her for days now. Wearily, Blake started clicking and manually sorting through useful emails and trash that didn't even need to be read. Passive-aggressive work memos from loud coworkers (shut up Patricia, no one cares about your lunch), junk mail (there's a sale going on in a nearby department store apparently), and death threats (only 12 emails, significantly less than yesterday) were among the ones immediately deleted without even opening.

Several rapid clicks later, her inbox was emptied of all unnecessary emails, and she could focus on what actually mattered — once she sorted through all of the false leads, that is. Days ago, Blake had published a request for the Other to contact her if they wanted their stories heard. It was a good idea in theory to gather information and first-hand accounts, but she really, really should've seen the amount of humans pretending to be the Other coming. Internet anonymity was a bitch, and a lot of trolls, people that were obsessed with the Other and bored humans who had way too much time on their hands were claiming to be special.

Somehow, Blake sincerely doubted that a real vampire or werewolf would throw in blatant Twilight or Vampire Diaries references into these emails. Just a hunch. On the off chance that they were truly what they said they were, it wasn't the type of person (could they still be called a person?) she wanted to write about. Now that article would immediately become the laughing stock of the internet. Blake's mouse hovered over the trash can icon for a long second as she fought the urge to delete the lot of them. Duty won out, just in case she was deleting important information. The things she would do for a story...

There was one email in particular however, that seemed more genuine for whatever reason. Call it journalist's intuition, or just a lack of modern (if slightly outdated) pop culture references.

Dear B. Preston, Apologies for the throwaway email address – I don’t like paper trails. I saw your call for stories from the Other in The Capital, and after serious deliberation, I have decided to express my own interest in the project. I am a vampire of not insignificant experience who would be willing to answer any questions you might have, from my condition in general to my personal history, so long as the result is anonymised. As this is uncharted territory for the both of us, and perhaps even both our kinds, I am an unsure as to whether the best medium would be in writing or an in-person interview. Whichever option you would feel more comfortable with. Obviously, dining with the stuff of nightmares isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Looking forward to your reply. Sincerely, Someone who would rather not sign his name in writing.

Blake leaned back into her office chair as she read and reread that email, thoughtfully chewing off the lipstick she had hastily smeared on so that she could claim that she cared about appearances. It was impossible to gleam whether this email rang true or not, but there was something different about this one that felt like it was worth following up on — at least the throwaway email wasn't something like totallyabloodsucker69 that she saw about three emails prior.

After quickly doing her carpal tunnel prevention hand stretches, Blake wrote out a long reply, then went back and deleted an entire unnecessary paragraph and several other snarky comments that had just slipped out. She was a professional, and should probably act as such. No need to scare off a potential vampire contact — as silly as that sounds.

Dear someone who would rather not sign their name in writing, Thank you for your response, your willingness to share your story to the public is greatly appreciated. I can promise it will be put to good use. An in-person interview probably would work best, if only to be able to say that I've confirmed that you're a vampire in person. It's far too easy for people to pretend to be something they're not online — there's simply not enough credibility over the internet. I conduct a lot of interviews over at The Daily Grind for the casual atmosphere, but I'm open to any alternatives you have in mind. I've attached my schedule to this email, let me know when you're available. And finally as a formality — and I honestly have no idea what I'm looking for — is there any way you can send me proof of your claim? As mentioned before, there are far too many people pretending to be anything other than human. Regards, Blake Preston.

Perhaps only a split-second after she hit send, a roar of "Preston, turn the radio on now!" was shouted at her from behind. Blake spun around in her chair in alarm, staring at Jones who just barged through the door with wild, panicked eyes.

"What are you——"

"Do it! Now!"

Jones didn't even give Blake another moment to respond as he flew forward to fiddle the radio to the right broadcast, not bothering to wait for the shocked journalist to catch up to his intensity. Precious few seconds were evidently lost as Jones' fumbling fingers finally managed to push the right set of buttons. Blake actually listened to On the Edge radio quite often, but an unfamiliar voice flowed through the speakers.

Think of the teenagers lost during Nick Bloodfang’s rampage: three young girls, on their way home from a party on the wrong night of the lunar cycle, left for dead. That is only the tip of the iceberg...

Though she didn't quite understand what was going on yet, Blake turned on the recording function of her phone after seeing Jones frantically gesticulated to her. Blake's brows were knit in confusion as she listened to the broadcast. Something wasn't right, something didn't feel right.

Blake's jaw dropped along with her stomach as the 'segment' ended with a human call for action. It was pathos at its finest, playing up on the fear that she knew swept throughout the humans when the Other first came to light a month or so ago. Even though the current position of most people was uncertain, tension and fear grated roughly on most humans that she knew. Jones and Blake shared a slack-jawed stare of disbelief.

This was hate speech, inciting people to violent acts because they painted the Other as mere criminals with no other purpose besides murdering innocent people.

By the time Louise's voice came back on the air, Blake snapped out of her stupor to open a brand new word document on her computer. Although the highjack had ended only seconds before, she was already replaying it on her phone as her fingers flew over the keyboard, transcribing it to the best of her ability. "I can't believe I missed the bloody beginning. Colin, did you get——"

Blake's fingers kept moving as she glanced over to her partner's desk, suspiciously empty and untouched since yesterday.

"Where the hell is Colin!?"

[paperficwriter]

Be Thou My Vision

Aziraphale and Crowley! In Paris! In 1899! And there are some homages to Moulin Rouge, which is one of my favorite films. Enjoy!

Paris, 1899, in the neighborhood of Monmartre, a steady snow fell and covered the rooftops, the cold wind carrying the sound of can-can music from the nearby red windmill. Crowley had dragged Aziraphale to the Moulin Rouge to mingle with the bohemians, but when someone passed him a bottle of absinthe, some sugar and a metal spoon, he had lost track of him.

Now, though, it was almost midnight, and on New Years, it was utterly inappropriate for Crowley to not be with his best friend (note: it was still easier to call it that - a friendship - than to label it as something different, or something that might get them too much attention from both the mortal and immortal worlds both. It seemed the popular thing to do among humans of similar presentation too, though Crowley had a feeling that would lead to some confusion later on…), especially since he was in the same city for once.

He took the steps of the apartment structure that had been built over a cafe two at a time, long legs demonically enhanced and leaving small sparks with each footfall on the landings, like struck flint. 

When he got to the loft, Aziraphale was staring out the window, a book against his chest, his chin in his hand. Crowley followed his gaze out over the city towards the Eiffel Tower, barely visible in the snow as it thickened. Although he reclined on the purple chaise lounge that Crowley had acquired for him (because he insisted that he hated sleeping, that it was unnecessary, that he would much rather stay up and read), there was a tension to his shoulders, and he pulled a thick, velvet coat around himself.

Compared to Crowley, who was bare but for suspenders and cotton slacks, he was quite overdressed.

“What’s with the coat, angel?” Crowley asked. By his internal clock, there was still about five minutes. Plenty of time.

“It’s quite stylish, I’ll have you know!” Crowley jerked back like a dog that had been admonished. Aziraphale rarely snapped at him (not counting when he deserved it), and he must have realized it too, because he quickly said, “I’m sorry, dear boy. Really, it’s not you I’m irritated with.”

“Right.” Crowley sat down beside him, plucking the book away and putting it down on the shelf next to them. “So. You’re irritated with---”

“Your friends!” Aziraphale raised his hand with a flourish and then brought it down on his knee. “Those bohemian boys of yours! I walked in just behind you and they cut me off and said I…” He trailed off, pouting into his collar. Aziraphale trailed off, pouting into his collar. Crowley had a love-hate relationship with that pout; it was so utterly adorable and yet he would sink ships and burn bridges both when someone made his angel upset.“They said I looked like some bourgeois pig, with my fancy clothes and corpulence, as they put it.”

“Your French accent really is terrible.” Crowley tugged at his sleeve.

“I know! Do you think that helped?!” Aziraphale crossed his arms over his chest, and the pout intensified to near-explosive lengths (Crowley would be the one doing the exploding). “I’m not an idiot,” he finally said. “I know I could change this form. I know that I could be less...of what I am, but I like this body, Crowley. And I don’t like when people make me feel like I should be ashamed of it.”

In the distance, Crowley could hear the sounds of people counting backwards in French. Champagne was being shaken, lips puckering, the cold bellringer at Notre Dame (who actually had a very fine back, but a shit liver) grabbing the rope and beginning to pull…

And Crowley threw his hands up to Hea-- well, he threw them up. And everything stopped.

Everything except Aziraphale, whose eyes focused on the snowflakes now hovering motionless in the air like stars. “Crowley, you know you are not supposed to do that! You’ll be reprimanded for sure--”

“Pah,” Crowley remarked, slouching onto the bed beside him. “If I can’t have New Years with you happy, then no one can have it.”

“That’s...a little dramatic, dear boy.” 

“It’s the turn of the century, angel! Let them wait on their little bohemian revolution.”

Aziraphale clicked his tongue at him, but didn’t actually make any further remarks on the situation. The world truly was so still when everyone wasn’t making such loud to-do’s about everything. 

“I’m not going to let it start like this, with you not appreciating how beautiful you are.”

He could see the little jump in Aziraphale’s shoulders, and heard the sharp intake of breath. His round cheeks went a little rosy, and his warm hand found Crowley’s chilly one. “Crowley…” he whispered. 

It wasn’t their first kiss. But given that about forty years before, when Crowley didn’t think there would be any more kisses ever (foolish, thinking a fight would end anything -- it never did, but it always felt that way at the time), now he would take it. He would delight in it, as he always did. Soft lips. A warm nose pressed into his narrow cheekbone. The smell of books and candlelight.

“We shouldn’t,” Aziraphale murmured, fingers hopelessly tangled in red hair and a suspender strap.

“That’s never stopped us before, angel.” It took two hands to get at the topcoat’s buttons. “You don’t have to cover up in all this.”

“What if someone is watching?” Aziraphale glanced both up and down, as if it needed to be clarified that he didn’t mean some passing Parisian pervert. 

He managed it, starting on the next set, talking as he went in that rapid-fire sinister sensuality that was so very, very much his style. “No one’s watching, and I’ll file it as a divine temptation. There I was, in Paris, promoting terrible imbibing of hallucinogenic drinks, when what to my wandering serpent eyes should appear, but an angel in doubt.”

“I’m not in doubt! Don’t even joke, Crowley!” The demon kissed the center of his furrowed brows, nuzzled there with his face until he relaxed. “There’s no holy oath against a little insecurity now and then.”

“I still won’t have it, angel.” There. The last of the damnable buttons undone. Who had been in charge of the last change in fashion? His side, or Upstairs? He wasn’t sure, but something needed to be done about the next trend to come. Burying his face against Aziraphale’s chest and soft stomach, he squeezed, hissing, overcome very suddenly by how much he loved this body, loved all of his constant companion. Which was so much not like what a demon should do, and that made him all the gladder to express it.

Aziraphale squeezed his head and held him just as near in turn. “You’re being positively ridiculous. You make it sound like you found me drowning in tears like the lead in some...Sarah Bernhardt play.”

“You really think that after so many thousands of years…” Crowley gazed up at him with his golden eyes, and he wondered for a second what they looked like, the two of them, in this affectionate embrace that was only intimate when you really peered at it. What kind of painting might they resemble? Caravaggio? Lomi? Rubens? “You really think I need to see you crying to know when you’re hurt?”

Aziraphale didn’t say anything, averting his eyes to his dress shirt and tutting. “I’m ruining your good time being so…”

“Vain?” he couldn’t help joke. 

“Don’t!” This time Aziraphale smiled, and he gently slapped his cheek. It didn’t even make a sound. “Do you, though?” he asked in a whisper. “Do you really think--”

Another kiss, a kiss for ‘yes.’ A kiss for ‘of course, silly clever thing.’ A kiss for ‘forever, from the start of Day One until the End.’ That was true. He was glad to be kissing him instead of saying it, how there was always fondness back when Heaven resembled sunken gardens and nebulas and sun-warmed clouds and not Versailles. And how when he first slithered his way back after All That Unfortunate Nonsense, he saw him standing there at the Eastern Gate and thought, ‘maybe’...right up until She gave him that sword and he smiled like the sun and Crowley - Crawly - fled the scene to talk to that lady about the apple.

Could he really blame him for going doe-eyed when he said that he had just given it away?

“Show me.” Damn the angel’s endearing eyes and his pitiful smile. 

“What do you think I’m doing exactly?”

“Show me more. Please. However will I be a true believer, and how will you be a true tempter?”

Crowley smirked. He had already lost. No amount of fussing over it would change that. Not that he wanted to. But he also couldn’t just give Aziraphale the satisfaction. With the wave of his hand, the shirt, the pants, everything but his sock garters and silky, knee-length drawers remained. They were open in the back, he could tell. Such was in the style. That was his lot’s doing. “Animal!” Aziraphale scolded, but he was smiling and blushing.

“How can I appreciate you when you have to layer a hundred garments over the good parts?” Crowley slid down to his knees, chin tucked but eyes up. He lovingly kissed the softest part of his thigh. “Let us pray…”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale studied each press of lips, caress of fingers, slip of tongue, and he seemed to melt on the lounge until he was picked up in the demon’s strong arms. He leaned up to rest his forehead against Crowley’s, and it tingled a little, like lightning in the air at the top of a tower just as the stormcloud rolled in. It was where his halo would be. Where it perhaps still was.

He missed his wings, but he wouldn’t tell him that tonight. Because he would manifest them immediately and someone would notice that time had stopped, because he would have his hands in them all night. 

The bed creaked under their bodies, Aziraphale on his back and Crowley sitting between his legs. He snapped his fingers and what remained of his own clothing was tucked away. All of it would be in the dresser by the door in the morning.. “I think it’s like...when people walk out into the sun,” Crowley said, coming up to touch around his knee, to appreciate their dimples before moving back up, sliding on his belly like the serpent that he was, that he still was even after all this time. “They hate how it gets in their eyes...makes them ssssweat...turn red...but who could ever actually hate the sun? How it always glows…”

He gave a peck to each side of his chest, the dip of his neck. When his hand slipped into the folds of Aziraphale’s undergarments, he was pulled down into that body that was as giving as goose feathers. He pecked at his neck. “You’re soft, angel.”

“I know,” he said, and it might have come out dejected if not for the moan of pleasure as he found warm, hard flesh to put his hand on. 

“Don’t ever think poorly of that. Not when it’s something I love about you. One of many things. Things I could very well die for.”

“Let’s...not talk about things like that now, dearest.” Aziraphale guided him into another kiss, and when he waved a hand downward, everything was gone, leaving them both blissfully as naked as they had come into the world (though perhaps looking a bit less humanish). 

“Aw. I like the garters.”

“Really? I can bring them back.”

“No, no.” Crowley squirmed out of his arms and knelt, gazing down at his whole visage there. Without the world turning, the scrutiny of his eyes was a slow drag of a bow across a cello. “This is perfect.”

Aziraphale messily hugged the pillow beside him against his face. Now, he truly did remind him of a cherub. “I’m ready for you, love.”

He returned to lying on top of him, the kiss coming with his sharp teeth for just a second, only enough to make Aziraphale gasp in a way that amused him as much as it aroused. “One day, I’ll have you start to finish. With all the preparations that they like to do with fingers and oil and...other things, maybe…”

“And one day,” Aziraphale echoed, stroking his cheeks, “may I be granted the patience to handle the wait.”

Crowley entered the sanctity of him.

Blissful wet, and tight. Always tight. But didn’t they all love their ideology around virgins, about every touch being like the first touch? Not that Crowley was complaining. Aziraphale’s body always responded like this was a gift, like this was a union. It was never just fucking with Aziraphale. At least not now. Not yet. Maybe that would be a ‘one day’ too, when these moments weren’t years apart. Sometimes centuries.

When momentary indiscretions could be something as commonplace as tea time and duck ponds.

“Crowley...oh, my darling...my...Crowley…”

“Aziraphale…”

They could end it at any time, but they never did. They always left this part of themselves so very mortal at the end, so the natural progression could take over, so they could feel the other unraveling and know it wasn’t because of some magic trick.

Aziraphale was always ruined first. Pretty little thing, like he was starved for it, like it was a sweet treat that he had never had and might never have again. And, admittedly, then he might go back for seconds, as it were, but Crowley never pointed it out. All was the better for him.

When he spilled, it was like rising. And it only lasted a second, only ever a second, even when there were no seconds actually passing, like it was now. When he Fell, it was eternity. When he Rose, it was bobbing for just a moment and then settling back again.

But Aziraphale was always there, ready to hold him, to keep him from grieving.

“Go on,” the angel said now, his hair a mess across the pillows, curling up under the sheets like a cat. “I’m ready.”

“Oh, of course, if his Majesty is ready.” Crowley kissed his nose, closed his eyes, and the snow fell again. The music swelled, and bells began to ring out. Everyone kissed, and they did too, and just like this, so still, Crowley could swear he could actually feel the world turn. 

[asaseya]

Something Between Us: Chapter One

This fic takes place directly after Something about us. Kal and Roy settle into their new relationship. Kal retakes his place in the superhero community. Roy starts his own business. Jade, as always, is full of surprizes. Waning for smut.

Read on Ao3 

Chapter One

Kaldur fell asleep fifteen minutes after joining Roy on the sofa. Between the ticking of the clock on his wall, the sound of Roy’s steady breathing, and relief at being finally,blissfully, alone Kaldur didn’t really stand a chance. Although this was not how his evening was supposed to go his only regret was how the sofa’s armrest pressed into his back. Kaldur never really considered his sofa’s size and comfort level until this week. He made a mental note to find a replacement.

At some point after he nodded off Roy must have rearranged them. Kaldur lay on his back with Roy stretched out on top of him, half of the archers limbs dangled off the sofa’s edge.  With the exception of their shoes and belts they still had their clothes on. And the top two buttons on Kaldur’s shirt had been undone. How Roy managed all that without waking Kaldur was a puzzle for another time. For now Kaldur’s back would very much appreciate moving all this to his bed.

Kaldur ran his fingers through Roy’s hair, studying the swirl pattern. He hated to wake Roy up but figured he’d have a pretty good shot at replicating this position in a more comfortable space. Ducking his head he managed to kiss the top of Roy’s head. “Surely I am not that comfortable to lay on?” Kaldur asked, his voice fond.

Roy murmured something intelligible as he woke. He turned his head until he could rest his chin on Kaldur’s chest. With a sleepy grin he leaned forward and kissed Kaldur’s collarbone. “You underestimate yourself.”

Kaldur didn’t have the presence of mind to suppress his shiver. “Come on,” Kaldur ran his fingers along Roy’s cheek and Roy leaned into the touch. “Let’s get to an actual bed.”

Roy seemed to wake fully at the word bed.

And Kaldur...Kaldur was taken aback by the heat in Roy’s gaze. He was then ready to smack himself when Roy’s look turned into one of concern. Because what in Poseidon's name was his problem now? “It is silly,” Kaldur explained weakly.  “I just. I panicked?”

“Panicked?”

“Old insecurities.” Kaldur averted his eyes. After a breath he looked back down at Roy.  “ You don’t suppose that this is a sign of progress? At the very least I did not claim that nothing was wrong.”

“We just keep going in circles.” Roy shifted forward to kiss Kaldur lightly on the lips, and the slow drag of Roy’s body against his pulled a moan from Kaldur. The fire was back in Roy’s eyes. He sprung off the sofa and grabbed Jade’s gift bag off the coffee table.  ”Come on,” He said before offering Kaldur his other hand. “Time to rip the bandaid off.”

Kaldur glared at the bag. “Are you certain that is not bugged?” Kaldur’s glare hardened as Roy laughed at him. “I am serious.”

“Don’t be so suspicious.” Roy leaned down to grab Kaldur’s hand and tugged at it.

Kaldur let Roy hoist him up and off the sofa and then drag him to the bedroom. Once inside the room Roy tossed the gift bag onto the bed. Kaldur pulled Roy closer. “Do not laugh.”

“Laugh?”

Kaldur nodded. “At what I am going to say, but you know we do not have-”

Roy rolled his eyes and let go of Kaldur’s hand “I’m not letting you back out of this,” He said before tugging off his shirt.

“It is not that-” Shirtless Roy was a distraction. “It is not that I don’t want to. It is just that we have had a long day, surely we can do this later.”

“I don’t know about you but I just had a very refreshing nap.” Roy explained as he pulled his pants down. “I’m wide awake! Now strip.” Kaldur took a beat too long to follow Roy’s order causing Roy to scowl. He placed his hands on his hips and Kaldur’s eyes locked on to that location. To the cut of Roy’s abs and the trail of hair that disappeared into Roy’s boxers. Kaldur could feel his throat going dry as his mouth popped open.

“What did I say?” Roy was moving forward now, the suddenness of his movements freezing Kaldur in place. Roy grabbed Kaldur’s collar in his fist, tugging at him as if he were holding him steady for a punch. “Now you listen to me,” he started, his voice a low growl. “I have suffered these last few days because of your stupidly pretty eyes and perfect arms. I have waited patiently for us to be alone. And guess what? We’re alone!  Now I’m not sayin that you owe me this, but you owe me this.” He let go of Kaldur and stepped back enough to pull off his boxers. “So strip.”

“Your arms are nicer than mine,” Kaldur responded dumbly.

“I swear to god!”

“I am not wrong.” Kaldur said as he started to unbutton his shirt. Because he did want this, but he still had problems going after his wants. Or even admitting that he had wants. “Objectively speaking your arms are nicer.”

“Uh huh.” Roy made his way to Kaldur’s bed. He pulled the covers back before sitting down, leaving his legs spread open. They hadn’t really touched each other yet and he was already semi hard.

Kaldur bit back a whimper and averted his eyes. “And talking about suffering. Do you think it would kill you to wear more than a towel when you leave the shower? Hm?” he pulled his undershirt over his head. His eyes flicked over to Roy. Roy who was currently watching him with interest. Kaldur looked away again as Roy absently licked his lips. For what might be the millionth time in the past few days he was glad he didn’t blush easily. “And what is with the staring?”

“Something wrong with me enjoying the view? Your pants are still on.”

Roy said it just as Kaldur had unzipped his pants. The look he gave Roy earned him a cocky grin in return. Kaldur pulled his pants down and kicked them off.

Roy hummed appreciatively. “I like those on you.” He pointed to Kaldur’s boxer briefs. “You should get red ones.”

“Red? Should they have cartoon characters on them as well”

“Ha ha, get over here.” He reached out to Kaldur and Kaldur complied. Roy grabbed Kaldur’s hips once he was close enough. He rubbed his thumbs along Kaldur’s apollo’s belt and then hooked them into the elastic band of Kaldur’s underwear before pulling them down. The archer chuckled.

“That’s comforting,” Kaldur said dryly as he stepped out of his underwear.

Roy grinned up at him. “You grew a little.”

Kaldur scoffed and rolled his eyes. Other parts of him were more honest.

Roy’s smile widened. “Yeah you did. Though I guess it’s not fair to compare you to the you back then.”

“You certainly know how to put me in the mood.”

Roy let Kaldur go and scooted backwards on the bed to make room. “What? Me telling you how big your dick is isn’t turning you on?”

Kaldur laughed lightly then followed Roy onto the bed, hovering over him. “You are ridiculous. Why do I love you?”

Roy’s face softened as he reached up to cup Kaldur’s cheek. As Kaldur leaned down to kiss him Roy wrapped his arms around Kaldur’s neck to tug Kaldur on top of him. They kissed for a bit, pressing into each other as if it were possible to fuse together.

Roy pulled away first, speaking before Kaldur could object. “You love me?”

Kaldur pushed up on his elbows to look down at him. “Have I never said so?” Had he ever said so? It seemed so obvious, of course it was to Kaldur. Because for a long time these feelings were the background noise of his life. But Roy’s eyes were full of questions and even without the promise of romance Kaldur realized that he should have at least made it known to Roy that he would always be someone he treasured.

Roy shook his head. “Never directly.” his face scrunched up as he thought. “But then I’ve never said it either.” He rubbed Kaldur’s arm absently. “But I do love you. God...I should have said this before.” He gestured vaguely to himself.

Kaldur’s face lit up. “I have no complaints. If we moved at my pace I’d be trying desperately not to touch myself in the shower right now.”

“Can I say something kinda scandalous?”

“You ask as if you won’t say it anyway.”

“I totally jerked off to you the second morning here.”

A few moments passed and the silliness of it all bubbled up causing Kaldur to laugh. Roy laughed as well tears forming at the edges of his eyes. Kaldur buried his face into Roy’s neck, smiling into Roy’s skin. “That explains the laundry.”

“Damn, I thought I was pretty stealthy with that.”

Kaldur hummed a response and began kissing Roy’s neck. Roy shivered appreciatively as the kisses moved up his neck to his chin and then back to his mouth. The slow pace of their kissing did little to calm the heat rising within him. He tugged at Kaldur, maneuvering the Atlantean until he fit neatly on top of him and between his legs. He rolled his hips upwards causing Kaldur to break their kiss.

Kaldur pressed his forehead against Roy’s.“What do you want?” He whispered the question but his eyes betrayed his urgency.

Roy could feel Kal’s hardness against his stomach, the possibilities made him ache. “Way more than what we’re prepared for.” he answered honestly.

Kaldur’s eyes softened. “If we had waited-”

“Nuh uh.” Roy squeezed his legs, pressing his knees into Kaldur’s hips. He chucked at Kal’s sharp intake of breath. “I have other plans.” He grabbed the gift bag and rummaged through it, pulling out the bottle of lube. “Don’t give it that look, you’ll appreciate it in a moment.”

“Yes...your ex wife’s contribution to our sex life, Such a thoughtful gesture.”

“You know it actually was?” Roy poured a decent amount on to his hand. “I mean unless you were gonna go to the corner store and buy some? Wonder what rumors the neighborhood could generate with that?”

“Point taken. But don’t expect me to send a thank you note.”

Roy slipped his hand in between them, taking Kaldur in his firm grip. Kaldur’s eyes fluttered shut.

“What about?”

Roy shushed him. “Later.” He moved his hand slowly, dragging at the tip.

Kaldur took a shuddering breath, trying to control his responses.

“Stop that. Just let go.”

Roy sounded annoyed, Kal thought dimly, why was Roy annoyed? “Stop wh-”

Roy kissed him and it was not smooth or slow or perfect, but bruising. Needy. And when he pulled Kaldur’s lower lip between his teeth Kaldur lost it a little. Roy increased his pace and Kaldur would bury himself alive if he were aware enough to hear how wrecked his voice sounded because a hand job was not supposed to be this revolutionary. But it was. Especially when its been far too long since anyone had touched him this way and more specifically because it was Roy touching him this way.

Roy murmured encouragement. Roy called him beautiful. Kaldur disagreed with Roy’s praise, because even now a deep part of him couldn’t believe it. Roy tightened his grip, apparently as punishment because, “The fuck you mean you aren’t?” And maybe now would have been a good time for more lube because Roy’s hand, roughened by his craft, was digging into the more sensitive skin of his cock. It would hurt a man built differently, but it was just the right amount of roughness to truly permeate the dense skin Neptune blessed him with.   

Kaldur had to get away. He had to get away because he wanted to savor this. He wanted to last at least long enough share this first toppling over of pleasure alongside Roy. But when he leaned backwards Roy followed.  Roy’s other hand was kneading his ass. Roy’s mouth was on his neck and then his chest and when Roy bit down lightning flowed through him and all Kaldur could see was white.

“Thanks for the light show.”

Roy’s voice, deeper and rougher than usual, brought Kaldur back to life.

“Light?” Kaldur was still floating but he noticed, noticed the faint glow as the markings on his arms pulsed. “Sorry, I...um.”

“Sorry? No, that was, fuck Kal.” Roy closed the distance between the two of them, arranging them so that he was sitting on Kaldur’s lap. “Fuck.” He wrapped his arms around Kaldur’s neck. “The sounds you make.” He pressed in closer smearing Kaldur’s cum between them, he began to thrust involuntarily, rubbing himself against Kaldur’s stomach.

Kaldur’s head cleared enough to register his dissatisfaction. So long as Roy hadn’t cum he wouldn’t feel fully sated. He supported Roy’s lower back as he laid him back on the bed.

“What are you…”

“Returning the favor.” Kaldur said as he slid downward, fitting himself between Roy’s legs. He lifted Roy’s right leg and slung it over his shoulder. Roy bucked his hips as he watched and Kaldur didn’t resist the urge to tease him. He smiled before flattening his tongue against the base of Roy’s cock then slowly dragged his tongue along its length. Roy’s head fell back as he closed his eyes. His eyes snapped open as Kaldur swallowed him whole, hollowing out his cheeks to increase the suction.

Roy pushed at Kaldur’s head. “How...how are you so…”

Kaldur settled for a slow rhythm pulling back so that only the tip was in in mouth before pushing back down to the base. Roy grabbed at his head in vain, as he rambled a chorus of assorted swear words. When he could tell that Roy was close he pulled away, the release of suction making a deafening pop.

“You need to grow your hair out! Fuck I can’t ...No!”

Kaldur didn’t listen to Roy’s protests, instead he tugged Roy’s hips closer before going in again,  increasing his speed.

“I said….” Roy couldn’t get the words out because he could feel the back of Kaldur’s throat. He knew now that this was how he’d die. That if it were possible to suck someone’s soul from their body this was how it would be done. Roy remembered why he rarely asked/wanted for blow jobs in the years he and Kaldur weren’t together. Kaldur ruined them. He ruined them with his steady gaze and soft lips. With his lack of gag reflex and high lung capacity. He was sure Kaldur should be out of practice but no, apparently the fucker’s mouth was made for fellatio. Furthermore Kal was moaning around his cock and that...Fuck. Roy risked another glance. Gathered what strength he had to prop himself up on his elbows just to see that Kaldur’s eyes were still on him. That Kaldur’s other hand was busy stroking himself. When the hell did Kal get hard again? He wondered as he flopped back down on the bed and fell into oblivion.

Kaldur kept Roy in his mouth, swallowing down Roy’s orgsam as his second rocked through him.

“Fine, you win.” Roy croaked, his voice would even sound worse in the morning. He slung his arm over his eyes and tried to concentrate on his breathing instead of how Kaldur continued to lazily lap at him.

“I wasn’t aware that this was a contest?” Kaldur responded, a smile in his tone.

Roy moved his arm so that he could glare at Kaldur and Kaldur smiled broadly in response.

“This was your idea.” Kaldur remind him. Roy scoffed. Of course it was his idea, because he had damn good ideas! “Round two after I take a nap.”

[totallydarknerd]

Make It Count: Chapter 1- Travelers Fanfiction

I originally posted this to ao3. If you’d rather read this there, here’s the link, enjoy :) This fic was also originally called Moving On, but I just changed it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17140643/chapters/40309691

Make It Count: Chapter 1

Everything was failing. The world was falling apart around them and there was nothing they could do about it. The Director had abandoned them. David’s last words, words that weren’t even his own, were fucking “Protocol Omega”.

Protocol was that they would go on to live their lives. Protocol 5 for the rest of their lives.That was Protocol Omega.

Trevor always knew this would be his last life. Even if the Early Onset Temporal Aphasia hadn’t started to kick in, he knew this was it. He had been very much determined to enjoy it.

Protocol 5 was fine when he knew he had missions to go on. It was fine because he had other people around him, his team- his family. But Trevor had moved out of his parents’ house. He was staying at Ops. But Ops wouldn’t really be a thing anymore. They were done.

The group was spread out around Ops., resting after the horrific events of the day. Marcy and Carly took Philip’s bed and everyone else was lounging on couches or benches or sleeping uncomfortably propped up in chairs.

Trevor wondered what Philip would do no that they were following Protocol Omega. Philip’s entire life revolved around the team. Unlike Philip, the rest of the team had other places to go. Trevor could stay with Philip, like he had been doing, but he supposed he should probably try to move into that house that his parents thought he already lived in. That would be his Protocol Omega. And Trevor vaguely thought that maybe Philip could go with him.

Two people to cover rent was better than Trevor trying to cover it all by himself. He didn’t have a job, so he would need to get one. Philip would need one too. But if he got to keep living with Philip, even if they had to go the rest of their lives pretending they weren’t from the future, then that would be okay. Philip had been a constant in his life since day one. Out of the entire team, Philip was probably who he was closest with.

And, if Trevor thought about it, this was his first life where he didn’t have his wife by his side. She was his constant companion and coming to the 21st without her, was one of the most terrifying things Trevor ever had to do in his crazy long life.

But then he got here, and there was Philip. Philip dealing with a heroin addiction. Philip who seemed to know too much about everyone and everything. Philip who bore the weight of the world on his shoulders yet was one of the kindest people Trevor ever had the pleasure of knowing in his entire existence. So if Trevor wanted to continue living with Philip once they got everything shut down, who could blame him? Maybe it was selfish, but Trevor wasn’t sure if he could go on without him.

Trevor pulled out his phone to text Philip. He knew it was silly but people did that all the time in the 21st, texting people who were within talking range. But it was the middle of the night, and Trevor didn’t want to risk waking anybody up. He wasn’t even sure if Philip was awake.

Philip, are you awake? Was the text he sent and he heard Philip’s phone buzz from somewhere far away from the other side of Ops.

Trevor just wanted to talk to him. This was his first time in his many lifetimes that he was scared of living. He had a vague idea of what to expect now that they were following Protocol Omega, but it was a scary thought that he’d have to go through life alone. There was no reason for the team to contact each other once they leave tomorrow. They could keep in touch, sure, but they wouldn’t see each other as much as they were used to. The thought of being away from Philip for an indefinite amount of time scared Trevor. So he made a decision.

Trevor was gonna go through with it- asking Philip to move in with him, that is. He needed to. He couldn’t live in the 21st alone with little to no contact with anyone who knew who he truly was. Because tomorrow, they all had to go back to their Protocol 5.

Trevor really did need to buy that house that Gary thought he’d moved into. Mac would go to the FBI and be a damn good agent. Marcy would work at the hospital and Philip, well Trevor still had no idea what Philip was supposed to be doing so hopefully he’d agree to move in with Trevor. Grace would go back to only being a guidance counselor, Trevor supposed he could also see her from time to time. And Jeff and Boyd would be cops and Carly had her own thing going on having moved into that nice apartment. And it seemed like, from what Trevor picked up on, she was really starting to like the traveler that was in Jeff’s body. Maybe Carly and Jeff would date. Who knew?

Trevor was about to give up on Philip answering when his phone buzzed, startling him out of his thoughts.

Sure am, old man. What’s up? Trevor smiled at the used of the old nickname. At least that would never change.

How are you doing? Trevor figured it was best to start a normal conversation before jumping into what he wanted to talk about. He didn’t have to wait even a minute before another reply came through.

To be honest, I could really use a hit right now. I won’t have one, I wanna be done with that shit and I’ve been doing pretty good except for that one relapse.

Trevor’s phone buzzed with another message. I just want this all to be over.

Trevor sighed. That’s something he was worried about. Without the team around to help Philip stay clean, would he be able to stay clean? If he and Philip lived together, then he could keep an eye on him. He could distract him when he was having really bad days and show his support and how proud he was of Philip each time he passed a milestone in his sobriety. He wanted to be there for him.

Me too. Trevor sighed. He might as well get it over with. I was thinking, maybe after all of this is over, we could move in together? My parents already think I’m living in that house, I guess I’d actually have to figure out a way to move in there now. But- Trevor’s thumbs hovered over the screen. Did he really want to confess what he had been thinking about?

No. But also yes.

But I’ve gotten used to living with you. And honestly, I don’t think I could live in the 21st without you.

Trevor pressed send before he could overthink things. His heart was racing and his palms were getting sweaty. Trevor sat up straight on the couch he was supposed to be sleeping on and flung his phone away from him. He watched as it bounced on the couch cushion threatening to bounce its way onto the floor. He held his breath waiting for Philip to respond.

What if he didn’t respond? What if Trevor overstepped some sort of boundary? What if he was too forward?

Trevor hated that he was thinking this way. He had lived three full life times. He once had a wife and he’s had many many kids. His palms shouldn’t be getting sweaty over sending something as meaningless to life as a text message.

Except, Trevor reasoned, it wasn’t meaningless. Philip’s reply would seal his fate. It would determine how Trevor lived out the rest of his life in the 21st. And not only that, he just really didn’t want Philip to say no. They were friends and they relied on each other. Philip had always been such a constant presence, always there when he needed him. His companionship was something Trevor had always valued. It had been a long long time since he had someone as close to him as Philip. The last person who knew Trevor, truly knew him, had been his wife. But she had died and now Trevor was dying... and now Trevor felt guilty for asking Philip to move in.

Philip would have to go through what Trevor went through when his wife died. While the implant slowed things down, eventually he won’t come out of being locked in. If Philip said yes, he’d have to watch Trevor slowly die.

Once again Trevor’s phone buzzing broke him out of his thoughts. He slowly picked up his phone and debated whether he should look at the text message or not. Philip had taken a few minutes to respond. Trevor wasn’t sure what he wanted the answer to be.

Trevor pressed the home button on his phone and was greeted by Philip’s answer.

I’d love to move in with you. Trevor let go of the breathe he didn’t even know he was holding. He tried to look around Ops to see if he could find where Philip was resting, but everything was deathly still and silent. Trevor looked back his phone to read the rest of the message.

I’ve gotten used to living with you too. It’d be weird if I didn’t see you all the time. I couldn’t live in the 21st without you either.

Trevor leaned back on the couch and allowed himself to process the text. Philip said yes. They were going to move in together. Trevor smiled.

I can’t wait. Trevor couldn’t get past the giddiness he felt.

Me neither. Now get to sleep, old man. You old folk shouldn’t be up this late. It’s bad for your health ;)

Trevor laughed a loud, sudden, and intrusive laugh. He was immediately shushed by who he thought was Mac. But he couldn’t help it. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that the Director had abandoned this timeline. Sure, they didn’t know if it was because they had succeeded or failed in saving the future, but now they could live normal lives.

They never had the chance to do that before. In the future they had gone through training for years to be a crucial part of the traveler program. All their lives revolved around it. Now they just had the opportunity to live. And even if they failed the future, Trevor wanted to enjoy his life. It was his last one and he was going to make it count.

[lxveille]

trust fall

hoshi x reader

word count: ~ 2600 paranormal disaster/societal collapse!AU (???) a/n: somewhere in listening to “bring it” and my winter playlist and thinking about all those soulmate AUs where names are so important, this premise occurred to me and I decided to try to actually write it despite having drafts for, like, four other stories in the works atm. not 100% sure what to call this AU but things are Not Good™ and, uh, tldr?:

You put yourself in Hoshi’s hands.

You dig your fingers harder against your palms inside your pockets and wriggle your toes in your boots. Both are small attempts to keep your appendages from going numb in the cold. Snowflakes dot your hair and keep you from lifting your head even though you really ought to be on the lookout. Supposedly it was safer out here than in the cabin Hoshi had disappeared into some time ago. Which was enough information to know that you probably weren’t anywhere you should even think of closing your eyes for a second. But the wind and snow sting too much for you to look anywhere but at your own shoes.

In this too-quiet moment, with your mind struggling to think of anything but how goddamn cold you are, you find yourself trying to retrace your steps. How did you get here? The simple answer was just Hoshi. The better one requires too many steps back for you to get through as a strong gust makes you shiver in place and hunch your shoulders further in some effort to maintain body heat.

How long had you known him? Time was difficult to keep track of now. How long ago had it been that you’d snuck onto a cargo train in a foolish, last-ditch attempt to get away from a burning city? Because while Hoshi hadn’t been the one to find you hiding between two crates of artillery, he had been the one to get you out of a situation where you would still almost certainly be out of your depth. Exactly what he’d given up of his own to save you remains mostly unknown to you.

There’s a puff of condensation in the air from his breath before you hear or see him. Then his voice comes, airy and just a little judgemental, saying “You’ll die of exposure before anything else gets to you, you know?”

You look up to him, eyes squinting from the strain. “You told me to wait here.”

“Yeah, to wait here, not to go and try to get frostbite.” Hoshi reaches back and pulls the hood of your coat up over your head. You hate it. This coat already smells like some death you hadn’t witnessed, and it engulfs you whenever the hood is up. You reach your hands up to undo exactly what he’s just done. Before you can, he gives a firm tug on the front of the hood to keep you from putting it down. “Come on, Daydream. We’ve got somewhere to be.”

He stills calls you that. It’s solely because ‘daydream‘ had been the word printed in bold, capitalized letters on the slouchy cotton shirt you’d been wearing the day you met. You’d never picked an alias after the tenth plague struck, so he took one look over you and decided the word on your clothes would work. It didn’t matter that the shirt had long been torn and tossed as soon as the opportunity to throw on something else had come along.   

Hoshi has never asked you for your real name himself. You’ve returned the courtesy thus far. But there’s a curiosity in you that has grown over the weeks spent by his side. Curious for what sort of name would suit him, curious to know if he ever imagined possible names for you the same way you did him.

That’s exactly what you’re doing as you trudge after him through the snow. Listing off names inside your head and mulling over whether each one would somehow make sense on an ID card of his. Not that anyone carried forms of identification anymore. Nearly everyone had burned them all as soon as they realized what weight names carry now.

It still felt like something out of some strange, fantastical book to you. Truly, you hadn’t fully believed it until a friend of yours had looked you straight in the eyes, called you by name, and ordered you to slap your own face. You have yet to forget the odd and panic-inducing feeling of your muscles moving faster than you could process, your body compelled to obey before your mind could even finish having the thought I’d never do something like that. Your friend apologized after and had put her own cool fingers to your reddened cheek as she murmured how this wasn’t the kind of thing anyone could afford to deny.

“We’re here,” Hoshi tells you sooner than you’re expecting. You look around at the trees before giving him a questioning look.

“We’re still in the middle of nowhere?” you prompt him for some kind of explanation.

He smiles at you through another small cloud of cold breath. It’s amused, like you’ve told some kind of inside joke. If only you were in on it. But it’s moments like this when you wonder what sort of person Hoshi was before the world began to crumble. He holds one finger up, asking you to wait just a minute as he kicks away at on the ground. You dig your hands as far into your pockets as they can possibly go as you watch him with furrowed brows.

It takes a few minutes of his foot swiping back and forth before he uncovered what he’s looking for. He takes something small from his pocket and leans down to unlock the metal bulkhead door. “What is this place?” you try asking once again, going for something a little more explicit this time.

“A safehouse,” Hoshi answers plainly.

“For who?” An important detail in your opinion. You weren’t eager to cross paths with anyone Hoshi had been running with when you’d first met.

“For now, us,” he assures as he stands up. You eye the dark stairs unfavorably and tilt your head to one side as you return your gaze to his. The smile has already faded, but his expression is softer than the one he’d worn all day. Tired, perhaps, if not some kind of relief.

So you follow his lead down. The safehouse is no more than one room with dwindling supplies that suggest you're not the first to take shelter here. But the site of a fully-made bed and a space heater makes you perk up almost immediately.

Hoshi practically winces when he goes to turn on the heater, bracing himself for the very real possibility that he may have been lied to. The generator promised to power this might not exist or might have been depleted already.

When the heater clicks to life, power button flickering on, he lets loose a victorious bark of a laugh. And then he’s waving you over to sit beside him. You drag blankets from the bed before you do.

Both of you shrug off your damp coats before wrapping a blanket around your shoulders each as you settle in front of the slowly warming machine.

“Seriously?” Hoshi catches you off guard a few moments later when he reaches out for your hands. Your fingers are red with cold. “Really, you’re gonna lose a limb or something if you don’t watch yourself.” He sounds annoyed by the ordeal. His actions suggest something different as he cups your hands in his own and brings them up to his mouth. He breathes warmth out onto your shaky hands and rubs his fingers back and forth over the backs of them to create some heating friction.

You watch him care for you with parted lips. It isn’t the first time it’s dawned on you that it must be so. That he must, for some reason, care about you in order to have abandoned his cause in favor of trying to find some kind of safety with you. Nevertheless, each time the thought occurs to you it feels just as foreign and inexplicable as the first time. He’s never done more than hold you, and even then it there’s always been a logical, survival reason for him to do so. Yet here he is, when he could be god knows where instead.

“Hosh,” you utter in vain, as he doesn’t lift his eyes from his careful work warming up your hands. All the while you're certain your cheeks are plenty warm at this point. It’s silly. You’re being silly. At this point, he may only be protecting you just to prevent being alone. With the bridges he’s burned, you might be the only option he sees left. Because for all the moments where he seems this tender and mindful of your needs, you can also make a list of times he’s bristled, held you at a distance or refused to make eye contact with you. “Hoshi,” you say it a little louder. He hums an acknowledgment, and you give a half-hearted tug of your hands in his hold. “Can you let go?”

He complies without protest or hesitation. As the tangle of hands falls away from his face, you see a strange sort of frown on his lips. Almost like Hoshi feels he’s being deprived of something. But the space heater is finally giving off some tangible amount of warmth, and it feels much better to hover your hands in front of it instead. It helps steady your heart rate.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him now. If you do, those pesky gears in your head will only start churning to try to decode whatever look he’s giving you. And he is giving you one; you can feel his eyes on you.

Hoshi has never asked for your name. So why does it occur to you right now that you could simply turn and tell him it? It feels like ages since you’ve said it out loud. A part of you imagines you might stutter over its pronunciation. You shut your eyes. This must be the call of the void, this impulse to do something dangerous and self-destructive based solely on the fact that all you’d need to accomplish it is right there.

You’ve had dreams where he already knows your name. While he’s been cruel in a handful of them, in most he’s whispering it like a holy prayer or panting it against your skin. Really, your mind must be your greatest traitor. You lean forward, beginning to curl in on yourself as you try to push these thoughts to the back of your head.

“Are you alright there, Daydream?” The nickname makes you sigh. He could have just asked if you were okay. But no, of course, he tacks on the moniker just as you're in the midst of contemplating just what might be possible if you shed yourself of it altogether.

“It’s just cold,” you lie. For added effect, you pull the blanket a little tighter around yourself. Silence sinks in once more. You still can’t manage to check on Hoshi’s expression, though at least now you can guess he’s scrutinizing your response.

“You look exhausted,” he reasons after a beat. His hands find your shoulders and upper arms before he guides you towards the bed. Normally he’s better about this; he’s led you plenty of places, but rarely by physical force. While it feels far from forceful in this instance, it bothers some sense of vulnerability rooted deep inside you all the same.

But you are exhausted, and your head is swimming in a thick, confusing stew of thoughts about the man currently shifting blankets around to tuck you into the first proper bed you’ll sleep on in a long time. He’s just about to pull away, to suggest you should just sleep. You can sense it, and suddenly out of all your hazy thoughts one question bubbles to the surface. “Have you ever used someone’s name against them?”

Regret immediately fills you twice over. Once for how taken aback Hoshi looks by the question. Secondly, because his surprise has drawn him to a standstill, half-hovering over you. He’s so close. Too close, you determine as you feel his breath fan out over your face.

“Have you?” he asks in return, dark eyes scanning your features too obviously. You nod weakly and mouth the word once. “Ah,” Hoshi voices at a whisper, “Well, you know what I came from.” Barely, you want to protest. But it does answer your question, however vaguely it may be. “Why are you thinking about that now?”

Your voice feels impossible to summon. He’s still far too close, only inches away from something more intimate and something which would have to be a mistake. When you finally manage to speak, it sounds a thousand miles away to your own ear. “I think I’d tell you if you asked for it.”

Something you can’t pin down colors Hoshi’s face. The very corners of his lips twitch upwards, sending a small worry through you that he knows exactly why you’d say such a thing. His eyes, however, bore into yours with a concern that has your throat drying up. You’re fully dressed and covered in bedding, yet this must be the most exposed you’ve ever felt before him.

“I won’t ask,” he promises. You press your front teeth into the soft flesh of the inside of your lower lip. It sounds too convenient. Everything has gone to hell. It’s simply too good to believe you’ve managed to stumble your way into the company of someone truly didn’t want even the possibility of that power over you. Your disbelief must be evident on your face.

“Hey, I won’t,” repeats Hoshi. There’s a ghost of a laugh on the tail end of his words, good-natured and hopeful that somehow saying the same thing twice will work. It’s the laughter that your mind clings to first, taking it as proof of the sort of person he was before this. Of the sort of person he still is when the world is kind enough to give you some reprieve.

It feels like you’ve pulled off some trick, having managed both to take your risk and keep safe all at once. You release the small gasp of air you’d been holding and feel your shoulders loosen and sink into the mattress beneath you. You press your fingertips into the palms of your hands and find no chill runs through you at the contact. Warm, you think to yourself like you’ve only just remembered the name of this sensation.

Hoshi catches you off guard when he reaches a hand out to your temple. His fingers thread into and push some small section of hair away from your face. Close, still, but your heart does a somersault and now you wish he’d move even closer.

“Will you get some rest now?” he asks you, no longer holding back his small simper as he glances over you.

“You have to, too,” you remind gently. Hoshi blinks at you, appearing surprised once more as he stands up straight, letting distance break the tense need for barely-there volumes. He looks pleasantly surprised by your lack of an answer. Perhaps, you dare yourself to think, it’s because he’s as fascinated by your expressions of care for him as you are by his towards you.

“I know.” Hoshi turns ninety degrees away from you, needing the space just as much as you. He hopes that maybe he’s still flush from the snow anyway, that there’s no way you’ll notice the color rising in him.

It was slow to set in, but it means too much for you to say you’d give him your name. If he’s not careful, if he doesn’t take a few breaths and steps away from your side, he’s afraid he’ll take you up on the offer. If only because even he can recognize how silly it would sound to say I’m falling for you, Daydream.    

[rmtranslations-blog]

How To Thank You For Saving Me Ch.1

Title

How To Thank You For Saving Me 救命之恩无以为报

Author

Retrospect

Publisher

CP/长佩文学

Translator

ECirce

Editor

Chen Ai

Chapter 1

Warning: !!!This chapter contains adult & NSFW content. Please make sure you are above the age of 18 before proceeding!!!

Yan Zhuo was completely hammered.

When he woke up, he was laying on the couch of the club, pants dangling on his knees, barely on. And some guy had been touching his private parts over and over. The busy hand was quite thin and fair with some bulging veins, might be because he’s been at it for a while.  

There was no response.

The guy was starting to think that Mr. Yan just can’t “do it”, but he still didn’t give up. Carefully, he lowered his head and stuck his tongue out, anxiously wanting to lick the tip, he was pushed away.

He quickly glanced at Yan Zhuo, a bit taken aback by Yan’s vague smile, didn’t know what he was supposed to do next.

Zhuo licked his molars, trying to taste last night’s craziness, not at all in a hurray to pull his pants up. Then, he grabbed the guy’s collar and pulled him down, closer to him. As he was slightly tilting his head onto the left hand, which was setting on the couch’s armrest, his right hand hooked behind the guy’s chin, tilting the guy’s face to the left, then right, as if examining some goods.

Huh, looks like two or three years younger than him.

There was always rumours about his taste in younger people, that he didn’t like older guys, so when people are trying to get into his pants, they tend to look younger. But they keep coming, after a while, it’s exhausting.

Just like this time.

He got back to the country only yesterday, and today, somebody’s licking his junk. Though he might want to praise this person’s social skill, what a speed in getting this info. Yan Zhuo chuckled a bit, then pressed a button on the wall, pulled up his pants, made himself look decent.

Not long after, the waiter from this bar came up, dragged the sobbing guy away, as if he’d done this a million times.

Now that Yan Zhuo had got out of that mess, he still felt swimming. He picked up the coat and went upstairs only to find out, upon entering the room, that he had not even turned off the television. He entangled his fingers into his hair, as if venting to his hair all the annoyance caused by that silly man. Ruffling it into a complete mess, Yan Zhuo sneered in frustration. After going into the bathroom to get rid of the alcoholic stench, he stepped out barefoot, casually rubbing his hair with a dry towel, with occasional glances at the screen.

They were broadcasting an award’s night. Yan Zhuo suddenly spotted a familiar face as the camera turned. Shen Ji’s shirt was properly done up to the top button, as tightly postured as his complexion, lips hard pressed into a thin line without the slightest hint of a smile. He looked so sharp and smart, yet so thoroughly, enticingly stoic. Yan Zhuo’s glance closely followed Shen Ji, not daring to look away even for a blink, yet the camera swept past him and settled on a celebrity who had recently been the public’s favourite.

Yan Zhuo waited for more than half an hour, but the camera did not go back there until the end of the live. He stirred, realizing that all this waiting was kind of pointless, yet just as he reached out to turn it off, the frame shifted. The host was on interview with a few invited guests, the first of them being Shen Ji, Chief Executive Officer of Zhao Xi Entertainment Ltd.

Yan Zhuo pressed his sapped lips. Shen Ji’s voice in there was neither hesitating nor rushed, but enticingly husky. Shen Ji was scanty of words, but every sentence he directed at you was cold enough to make the distance clear. Suddenly Yan Zhuo felt like all the sparks of that burning lust he suppressed deep down was pouring out from all over his body, setting it on fire even though it had just emerged out of water.

He spreaded his legs apart, exposing fair thighs from under that dressing gown, which now only covered the parts below the belly. He couldn’t care less about his current posture, being under the cover of that white dressing gown; he only kept his eyes on Shen Ji on that screen, fully dressed in black tie. So damn stern, yet so damn seductive. Yan Zhuo put his right hand under the gown. Only the watery substance off his finger tips and interrupted sighs occasionally leak out a sound or two. Yan Zhuo had only one word in his mind, and it was Shen Ji.

As his motion intensified, the interview on screen came to an end. Now on that screen was a complexion strange to Yan Zhuo. Delicate, fair, of the same gender, and younger, yet the blood boiled up by Shen Ji now went straight down to the sole. He cursed under his breath, but he was not feeling much down there.

So you are being picky. Mumbled Yan Zhuo. Yet he was already sweeping the lockscreen aside and dialed his emergency contact. After two buzzes followed ‘the user was busy, please dial later.’ Yan Zhuo bit his lip. He should have expected Shen Ji to hang up on him. He fished out a voice recording in his phone and started looping.

The deep and melodious voice belonging to Shen Ji was within touch. He put his legs on the footstool, his bottom on the edge of the bed, completely exposing everything, and his underwear dropped to the floor. Still fumbling, he reached for his phone and pressed Shen Ji’s WeChat. He hovered over the video call option as he mindlessly rubbed his finger on the sensitive skin. His breathes were disrupted, wondering if he was being a bit too slutty, so he resorted only to “press to speak”.

The WeChat icon of Shen Ji was a white blank picture, but even from there Yan Zhuo could spy all that he fancies, and his breathes intensified just for that. Shen Ji would be able to hear him. The idea rushed the blood in his brains all the way down to the bottom. He bit his lips as sighs developed into continuous moaning under his breath.

‘Nnh…’ His toes curled up in satisfaction, as the pleasure hovered for another fleeing moment. And then he spoke, voice still hoarse but smug, “Even if you hang up on me.”

Putting aside that boiling impulse, Yan Zhuo enjoyed an undisturbed sleep as he comfortably spread on the bed. After the bombardment of messages was completely ignored by Yan Zhuo, said person resorts to a bombardment of calls. Yan Zhuo did not even bother to stir his eyelids but pulled his phone under the blanket, presses listen, and spoke in a muffled voice, “Fxxk off if you’ve got nothing better to do this early in the morning. You’re driving me insane.”

Ning Yao smirked on the other side, “I am doing exactly that. I have told you long ago, don’t mess with Shen Ji, or who else do you think will have to clean up your mess?”

Yan Zhuo still found it funny at first before his mind was set in motion and recollected everything left out earlier in that sleep. Shen Ji?! He sit up in a snap. He sent him a voice message last night.

Ning Yao was still chattering non-stop. Yan Zhuo palmed his forehead, hanged up, and opened the chat with Shen Ji. The 14-second voice message he sent last night at 11.34 was successfully sent. He swallowed, pressed that message in an attempt to recall it. After seeing the notification, he threw his phone onto the bedsheet and wrapped himself under it. He really did mess up this time.

A tiny line of notification written in grey was right under that voice message.

‘Shen Ji’s account is private. You are not his (her) friend yet. Please send a friend request. You can only start conversation after your request is accepted.

Translator's Note Words:

All NSFW chapters are posted on Tumblr.

It's my first attempt of translation, so there might still be a massive amount of errors. I as translator will keep trying my best to work with editors (and the editor for this chapter is amazing), but if there's any language problem about this translation that you absolutely cannot stand then please point it out in the comment.

Conventional surname-followed-by-first-name translation of names. Mostly transliteration based on PinYin.

Although the first chapter is NSFW, the novel as a whole (just about short of 30 chapters) may not be as smutty as you'd thought (surprise!). There's going to be more focus on character interactions and revealing of background stories in chapters to follow.

I hope you enjoy the read!

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