#I had nothing else better to do while listening to murder documentaries

[glitchybombs]

    I took one look at her hair and that was enough to make me draw her          Clare Cooper is a queen, one of my favorite TAWOG characters

[httpdabi]

Break up

Summary: After having a messed up break up, your best friend Dabi is there to comfort you, and give even more than you asked for.

Word count: 5,2k

Genre: romance, smut, no quirks haha

Warnings: 18+, creampie, public sex, spitting, choking..

,, I fucking hate him’’ you cried loudly, mouth full of ice cream as you talked to your cousin over the phone. At this point you didn’t care of how loud you were, and you didn’t care about the fact that your cousin had a hard time understanding you since you were a crying mess. Sobbing loudly, you ignored the words coming from the other line.

,, That bitch cheated on me with Toga, can you believe that?’’ you sobbed, tears rolling down your cheeks as you wrapped yourself with your favorite comfort blanket.

,, The girlie with weird hair ?’’ your cousin asked in shock.

,,YES, the fuck she thinking she’s the fifth element with that hairstyle?’’ you choked out, throwing the empty package across the room, as your cousin giggled because of your remark. She wished she was closer so she could pay you a visit, but sadly miles and miles were separating the two of you.

Sure, the first person you wanted to inform about your breakup was Touya, but you couldn’t force yourself to bother him, knowing he’s probably on work. You knew very well that he would drop everything and come over, saying how he doesn’t feel well or some other shit, and you didn’t want that.

After the call ended, you stood up, ignoring your reflection on the window, knowing very well that you look like shit right now with all the smudged mascara over your face. Tears started rolling down your cheeks even more when you saw that there’s no ice cram anymore. What did you do to deserve such a torture.

Wearing your hoodie, you made your way toward the nearest store, ignoring the people that were giving you weird stares because of your silly Sailor Moon pajama shorts. You couldn’t care less of what anyone thought in that moment.

You went to the store with the intention to buy ice cream, only to end up in the part of it with variant different choices of hairdye. So many ideas were going thru your mind, as you looked all over it. You almost ended up buying the pink dye and some bleach, until you saw scissors hanging beside the bleach.

Grabbing the scissors only, you hurried up to pay everything you chose, rolling your eyes shamelessly as you saw Rumi, the cashier of the fucking day. For some weird reason, you almost hated the muscular bitch. Maybe it was because she never had the exchange to give you back, giving you a pack of gums instead. Maybe it was because of her attitude, always giving you some smart comments, how your skirt is too short, how there are kids here, or even because she always rolled her eyes when she saw you coming in.

,, Looks like someone had a rough day’’ she commented sarcastically, as you gave your best to keep calm and ignore her. After the comment, she shut her mouth and did her job.

,, Sweetie, can you help?’’ she asked, suddenly with a cute tone, when her co-worker asked her to bring him few paper bags that were beside her.

,, No, you are doing great’’ you spat, grabbing all of the items as you hurried out of the store. The fuck would you help her? She’s getting paid for it, not you. Stupid bitch.

Placing the ice cream into the freezer, you immediately made your way to the toilet as you unpacked the scissors almost aggressively. Why would you dye and ruin your hair with bleach, when you could just cut off a bit of your hair, which meant the exact length of his dick.

Your hair was already long, and the fact that his dick wasn’t that big meant that you would only cut few inches. After short calculating, you grabbed the scissors, as you turned some silly tutorial on Youtube. Watching yourself in the mirror, you cried even harder, not because you regretted your decision. It was more because you looked like a lunatic.

After you finished, you immediately washed your face, cleaning all the ruined make up. Sure it didn’t look like a professional person did your hairstyle, but it didn’t look bad either, in fact, you liked it.

Since you weren’t in the mood to do your make up, you only put a bit of face cream over your face, and bit of mascara to make your eyes pop up a bit, before you took few selfies to post on instagram.

You were too lazy to do it, all you wanted to do in the moment was cry some more and eat ice cream you just bought, while watching something on Netflix. But you had to do it, you had to embarrass him as much he embarrassed you.

,, Not gonna miss those 5 inches, Kai.’’

You wrote, laughing ironically at the caption under your selfie. It wasn’t the best selfie you ever took, but at least you didn’t look like you were suffering because of the breakup, and the much shorter hair was visible on it.

[cyxnaf] Touya Todoroki

,, What happened?’’

It wasn’t even a minute since you posted your photo on the instagram, and your best friend already messaged you there.

Bitch cheated on me

You replied, sending him a crying selfie, with a spoon in your mouth.

[cyxnaf] Touya Todoroki

I’ll be there in 15 mins

A smile crept on your face, as you read his message. You loved him more than anyone or anything else on the whole word. If it was someone else coming over, you would probably force yourself and clean the apartment. But since it was Dabi, you didn’t give a shit.

The moment he arrived, you started bawling your eyes out. Having a face to face conversation with someone, talking about the break up made your feelings awake again. Dabi in other hand tried to make you feel better, bringing you your favorite snacks, and trying to put Kai down.

,, I’ve never had drama, unless it’s with my inner self’’ you cried loudly. ,, And all of sudden, I’m being cheated on.’’ Adding you grabbed the chips from the paper bag and opened it almost aggressively. Touya laughed you out, pointing every drama you’ve been connected to.

,, Stop it, you’re supposed to make me feel better’’ you slapped his arm lightly, as he talked about the drama that happened back in high school, when you got into a huge fight with a girl that called your dog a rat.

Once Touya realized that your mood was only getting worse, he turned some documentary on Netlfix that he started watching few days ago, explaining everything about it to you. You couldn’t help but smile, as you listened to him explaining every small thing, making sure you won’t be confused once he plays the episode.

,, You only watched few episodes of one murder documentary and you think you’re Mr. worldwide intellectual.’’ You laughed, as he tried to explain professionally.

,, The fuck you talking about ? The only documentary you watch is Keeping up with the Kardashians, so shut the fuck up’’ he spat, rolling his eyes playfully as he played the documentary.

The thing he played was about some murder, nothing you would watch on your own, but you didn’t mind. Seeing him talk about it so excitedly made your heart warm and in that moment you didn’t care if you won’t be able to sleep next few days.

You always loved spending your time with Touya, you simply loved how even when none of you had something to say, the silence was never uncomfortable. Even just sitting with him was making you feel safe.

,, You really choped your hair’’ he said, as he started to play with your hair. Being tired from all the crying and with his gentle movements, you were not capable of replying, simply nodding your head in response.

,, It looks good on you’’ Touya complimented you, placing a soft kiss on top of your head. He noticed that you were zooming out, so he just continued to caress your, helping you fall asleep.

All the horrible thoughts he had washed away, once he saw your sleeping face. He could only smile to himself as he noticed how puffy your face got from all the crying. Sure, it wasn’t that visible, but he simply noticed it and found it more then cute.

He tried to act calm and suppress his feelings, he tried to be there for you, but when you talked about what happened, all he wanted to do was find that piece of shit of your ex and simply kill him. He couldn’t understand how did you always manage to find some weird boyfriends that didn’t appreciate and treat you as you deserved.

If you only gave him a chance, he would always be there for you, he would simply give you anything you wished for. Touya never understood how could you be so blind, never once did you notice his feelings for you. Never once did you question his behavior.

Every time you called him over, he would ditch all his plans and run to you. Every time you needed something, you knew very well that only Touya will help you 100%.

You woke up in your bedroom, a little bit confused about what time it was and if your best friend was still there. Taking your phone to check what time it is, your eyes widened when you saw a Instagram notification from Kai. That piece of shit had balls to like your photo.

Throwing your phone away, you started crying again, wishing the day you met him never happened. You wished you listened to your best friend when he told you that Chisaki ain’t the one for you.

,, You ok?’’ you heard Touya’s voice under the loud TV noise. In just a second he was beside you, warming your body with his own and wrapping his arms around you, telling you how everything is ok and how he’s there for you.

,, Come on, stand up’’ Touya commanded suddenly, forcing your upper body up. ,, We are leaving’’ he added, forcing you out of the bed. You were too confused to even think at that very moment, but you found yourself following his lead. Wearing one of your very oversized shirt that covered more than enough, you hurried out of your bedroom to Toyua who was waiting for you already all ready.

You didn’t know what was happening, and the pack of eggs in his hand was confusing the shit out of you, yet you found yourself in the passenger seat, doing whatever Touya planned at that moment.

,, Where are we going ?’’ you asked, tears long gone.

,, We’re egging his car’’ he said, as your eyes widened in shock.

,, Is that even legal?’’ you asked again, already all excited about it.

,, Nope’’ Touya laughed out, focused on the road. You were sure that Kai would know it was you, definitely. But he also won’t have balls to call the police on you, since you knew about all his dirty deeds, you knew about all the drugs he’s taking and having hidden somewhere in his house.

Kai didn’t live far away from you, so in only few minutes of drive the two of you found yourself in front of his car. Lighting one cigarette, Dabi took the paper that was placed on the windshield.

,, Stop perking on my spot’’ Dabi read out loud, pointing out the word he wrote wrongly. You laughed loudly as you remembered about Kai telling you about some dude parking his Motorcycle in front of his car, making it hard to get out of the spot for him.

,, He can’t write, but he can do meth I guess’’ you laughed, as Touya puffed on his cigarette.

You stood there close to Kai’s car, as you waited for your best friend to finish his cigarette. It was a quiet night, with no people around at all. Maybe it was the adrenaline that was rushing in your blood, or the fact that you spent all day crying like a mad person, but in that very moment all you felt was anger as you thought about your ex.

,,Here’’ Touya gave you the package, still smoking that cigarette. You weren’t sure if he took his time with cigarette or if the time was simply passing so slow for you, since he was a pretty fast smoker.

To his surprise, you grabbed one egg and immediately threw it on his car, making him rise his eyebrows and laugh in shock. You never did something like that before, so you didn’t really understand why the alarm didn’t go on. Was your throw too weak?

A huge grin formed on your lips as you threw another egg, you couldn’t stop the evil laugh as you watched the egg yolk all over the window and in that moment you wished you had rotten eggs instead. Watching you happy like that, Touya couldn’t hide his smile. He was almost sure that everyone could read his emotions, he was sure that everyone could say how much in love he was with you.

You were on your fourth egg when Touya took one from the package and threw it. You weren’t sure if he threw it with much more force, or if he already did this before, but when the egg hit the car, loud alarm took over the peaceful night.

,, Shit, we have to hurry’’ Touya said under his breath as both of you threw one more egg. Sure, Kai won’t call the police, but if someone else saw you, they sure will.

You were laughing loudly, as you took your last egg, ready to throw it while Touya explained to you at what you should aim for.

,, HEY’’ you heard a familiar voice, coming from the building you used to spend so much time in. Not even turning around, you threw the egg and rushed to Toyua’s car, hopping fast into passenger seat. The moment Kai got out, everything happened too fast.

You wished you could take a photo of his upset face as he looked over your car. You were sure that you never saw him mad like that.

,, YOU FUCKING SUCK’’ he yelled once he turned the alarm off, while Dabi was ready to drive off, laughing loudly with you.

,, AND YOU SWALLOW BITCH’’ you yelled, popping your head thru the window. Touya gave you a bit time to flip him a bird, before he drove fast off, leaving your ex boyfriend pissed on the road. Laughing loudly, you leaned back into the seat, satisfied with the little event your best friend thought of.

,, You are seriously the best’’ you said, still smiling widely. Touya nodded his head, focused on the road. Every time he took a look of you, his heart would skip a beat. He was so fucking glad that you weren’t sad anymore, at least not for now.

You weren’t sure what had he planned next, since he wasn’t driving back home, but you didn’t care. You enjoyed his company, and you enjoyed the fact that you felt nothing else beside happiness in the moment. It was weird how fast emotions were taking over you. Just one hour ago you were a crying mess, and all of sudden you found yourself enjoying the night with your best friend.

You didn’t even realize how hungry you were, until Touya stopped by McDonalds to buy some food. Once he came back, placing the milkshakes and paper bag into your lap, you almost started drooling from the delicious smell.

He parked on the spot beside lake, where the two of you usually come to chill a bit. The music played on the low as the two of you ate slowly and talked about casual stuff. The moment a song from the famous tiktoker started playing in the background, you wished your hands weren’t so oily from the food. You wanted to change the song, but you didn’t want to make your phone oily, you weren’t even sure why you had that song in your playlist after all.

,, Does this song bother you?’’ he asked, taking a sip from his milkshake.

,, Yeah there’s a word that’s pissing me off’’ you rolled your eyes in annoyance.

,,Which one?’’ he asked confused.

,,When she says This ain’t build a bitch, you don’t get to pick or choose, what she should have said is nothing and just never release that stupid song’’ you hissed, wiping your hands as you changed the song that was pissing you off so much.

,, You are so cute’’ he complimented you, as both of you placed the rest of the food in the paper bag. Everything you did was cute to him, the was you sneeze is cute to him, the way you rise your brows when you are surprised, the way you laugh at your own jokes sometimes. Everything.

,,Did you know that Yumi got pregnant ?’’He asked you suddenly. Your eyes widened in shock, as you heard him ask, not because it was weird or anything like that, the two of you always gossip, but because you knew Yumi so well. You weren’t best friends with her, but the two of you would casually meet up.

,, Wasn’t she on the pills?’’ you asked, covering your mouth with your left hand. ,, Oh fuck no, I don’t claim this negative energy’’ you gasped shaking your head as Dabi laughed at your sudden reaction.

Talking about pregnancy and sex, you found yourself thinking about the last time you slept with your ex. You didn’t feel any sadness, all you felt was disappointment and anger. Just the thought that he was the last one inside you was making you mad, and the fact that only god knows when will you sleep with someone again was making you mad even more.

It’s not that you were a prude, or that you had something against one night stands. Sure, you could install Tinder and just find a quick fuck, knowing very well that the thought will bother you until the problem in your head is solved. But you weren’t the one to jump under the covers with a complete stranger.

,, What’s up?’’ Dabi asked once he saw you confused and lost in your thoughts. Hearing his voice, a sudden idea popped up in your head. You shook your head, trying to not think about it. He is your best friend for fucks sake, you can’t use him for something like that.

,, Nothing’’ you shook your head once again, trying to avoid his eyes.

,, Oh come on, tell me’’ he said stubbornly, as he placed his cigarette between his lips.

,, You know, the fact that Kai was the last person I had sex with, and the fact that I don’t know how long it will stay that way is bothering me’’ you confessed, skipping the part with the rest of your thoughts.

,, and you thought I could help you with it’’ Touya joked, as he puffed on his cigarette.

,, How did you know?’’ You asked way too fast, regretting it almost immediately once he almost choked onto the air and the smoke of his cigarette.

,, You can’t be serious’’ Touya said under his breath, closing his eyes as he spoke those words out. You weren’t sure why, but your heart sank a bit once you heard him say that.

,, Ah come on, it can be a quick fuck, it won’t change anything between us’’ he whined, turning your body to his direction. Once you said that, Touya grabbed you and forced you into his lap. You were more then shocked by his action, but you still positioned yourself comfortably in his lap, not sure if you should say anything or just wait..

,, You think I’ll be able to go back after it ?’’ he asked, one hand holding your waist firmly, and other holding his cigarette. ,, Doll, you should know better than anyone that I don’t do quick fucks’’ he added, as his grip got stronger. You weren’t sure if you should be embarrassed or not, but you felt uneasy at that moment, not sure where this all is leading.

,, If we do it now, there’s no going back doll, you’ll belong to me’’ he added again, as you sat in his lap confused. It was weird to hear him talk like that.

,, Touya, that can fuck up our friendship’’ you whispered. You were way too confused, not sure if he was talking about a relationship with you or just about you not sleeping with anyone else beside him.

,, And a quick fuck won’t do it?’’ he hissed, throwing the finished cigarette out of his window. He was right, both of it could fuck it up, and your idea was probably the worse option. The problem you had just few minutes ago was long gone, as new thoughts took over your mind. The fact that he was slowly placing soft kisses all over your neck didn’t help the situation, and the fact that you tiled your head to the side to give him more access to it didn’t help either.

You weren’t sure if you were simply too horny in the moment and if emotions took over you, but one part of you wanted to give it a try, yet another part of you was simply too scared of losing him. You did think about it before, how lucky can a girl be to call herself his girlfriend!? He’s not like other guys, at least not to you. He was always so caring, so gentle and so loving with you. He was the one who was always there for you, and in fact, you were more than sure that if you two start something, you won’t end up being hurt. But the fact that your friendship was under a question because of it was making you scared. Touya is the only person you never want to lose, and he knew that very well.

,, What do you say doll? Wanna try?’’ he asked, as he kissed your jaw softly. You weren’t sure how were you even capable of thinking at all in that moment.

,, Yes’’ you breathed out, closing your eyes shut as you enjoyed his soft kisses. Could you really lose him? If you had to worry about it so much, you should worry about the very exact moment. Why wouldn’t the current event ruin your friendship, now that you know that he doesn’t really see you as a friend as much as you thought. If you start some kind of a relationship with him, and if it doesn’t work, the two of you could talk it out.

The moment you said yes, Touya grabbed your yaw with his right hand, brushing his nose with your own before he connected his lips with yours. Once you placed your hands on his cheeks, trying to get closer to him, he couldn’t help but smile into the kiss.

What really drove him crazy was you rolling your hips on him. The fact that you had nothing else under your oversized shirt than your favorite panties almost made him cum in that very moment. Breaking the kiss, he leaned back into the seat, as you tried to catch your breath. Touya pulled your shirt up, exposing your naked chest. Not wasting any time, he placed his left on your right boob, pinching and twisting your already hard nipple, while sucking the other one.

Just the feeling of his hot breath made you throw your head back, enjoying the sucking and squeezing he was giving you. You placed your hands on his shoulders, finding support in it. Every roll you did with your hips, was met with his own one, making you feel his hard erection under his sweatpants. A quiet moan escaped your lips when you felt him bite on your nipple few times before he got back onto sucking it again.

Touya pulled your hips up a bit, giving you a sign to stay in that position as he pulled his sweatpants and boxers down, just enough for his dick to spring up. You knew that he had a dick piercing, in fact, you were in the waiting room when he decided to get it, but you still were shocked. It looked so good, so attractive.

You wanted to get out of his lap, you wanted to taste him, but his hands stopped you. Pushing you back onto his lap once again.

,, You have no idea how much I love you’’ he said, brushing his lips on your own, as he pushed your panties to the side and rubbed the tip of his dick around your hole.

,, I love you too, so much’’ you confessed, kissing him softly, as the pink head of his dick slowly entered you, hands on your hips slowly leading you down onto his length, until he was all in.

,, I know’’ Touya smirked into the kiss, enjoying the warmth of your walls hugging his dick. The hands on your hips slowly started to lead your hips up and down. The pace was so slow you could feel every inch of his dick rubbing against your velvety walls. Touya wasn’t one to enjoy the slow pace that much, but with you it was something else. He wanted to feel you as much as possible, and pushing his dick so slow into you gave him that possibility.

Just thinking about how it finally happened almost made him cream inside you. Closing his eyes, he let you move up and down his dick on your own. When you nuzzled your head into his neck he almost lost it, holding your hips down for few seconds just to calm his dick down. The small I love you that you whispered into his neck all over again didn’t help either, making it hard for him to control himself.

His hand found its way under your shirt, while his lips were all over your neck now, leaving sloppy marks all over it. You weren’t sure what did you enjoy more, his lips and hot breath over your neck, sucking and biting it, his hand squeezing your left breast or his dick deep inside you rubbing against your cervix.

Even tho you were moving your hips so slow, every time you were pushing your hips down, his would move upward, snapping against you with a little force and hitting your cervix perfectly. The both of you were breathing heavily, enjoying every second of the slow sex you had.

Wrapping his arms around you, he pulled your body closer to his, as he started moving just a little bit faster. You squeezed your eyes shut, as you realized that your climax was getting closer and closer with every move. Touya noticed your breathing getting faster, and your walls hugging his dick tighter then before, as he pulled your body up a bit, pushing you against the steering wheel and giving himself more access to move and fuck you a bit faster and stronger then before.

Moaning loudly, you wrapped your arms around him as you came all over his dick, almost shocked that you came without any clit stimulation. Dabi didn’t stop fucking you, helping you ride off the hard orgasm that just hit you.

Once he was sure you were done, he sat down. He lowered his seat, as he changed the position, locking you under him. Without giving you a chance to understand anything, he pushed his dick inside you.

,, I’m not done with you’’ he groaned, as he started moving his hips at much faster pace then before. Instead of saying anything, you wrapped your legs around him, placing your hands around his neck and just kissing him again. You couldn’t get enough of him, and luckily he felt the same. Accepting everything you had to offer, gladly.

The slow and steady pace was long forgotten, as he fucked you into the seat of his car with much more force and at one ungodly speed. You were pretty sure that the car was moving with every move he did, and you were sure if someone happened to be near, they would know what’s going on, but that was the last thing you cared of.

You were a moaning mess under him, and he was no better than you. You were surprised when you felt his hand around your throat, holding you in one place and playing with your breath. Open your mouth for me was all he said, before you felt thick saliva in your mouth. When it started, you thought it would be only some vanilla sex, the last thing you thought was that he would end up choking you and spitting in your mouth.

If it was someone else, you would probably freak out, but since it was him, you only obeyed, mouth open and tongue out, giving him approval for more.

,,That’s my good girl’’ he said, as he spat into your mouth one more time, while his grip around your neck only grew stronger. He was moving at rapidly speed, his skin slapping against your own was louder than the music that was playing in the background.

You closed your eyes as you started catching your breath once his hand moved away from your neck. Touya couldn’t control himself anymore, grabbing the edges of the seat, as he fucked into you. The pain mixed with pleasure was too intense for you, but you are his good girl, and you are doing so great for him, he made sure you understood that, as he repeated it all over again, while fucking into you.

The moment you felt his fingers rubbing your clit in circles, all you could do was squeeze your eyes shut, moaning loudly, as he told you to cum all over his dick, so you did as you were told and that was enough for him to reach his own high. Few harsh moves and he found himself cuming deep inside you. Even Toyua doesn’t know how did he find the energy to tell you how good you are milking his dick, but he did.

Collapsing on top of you, he fucked his seed inside of you, making sure not a single drop will get outside of your tight little out, making sure none of it will go to waste.

,, You’re mine’’ he said, placing soft kisses all over your face, and you were his. You were always his and he was always yours.

You weren’t sure how long would it take you to get over your stupid ex, but you were sure that Touya will be there for you and help you out in every way he can. Starting from the moment the two of you left your apartment, to the very moment the two of you cuddled inside of his car, after one steamy sex. All you could think of was your best friend and what would future bring you.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 17 - Mind Games [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, angst.

Word Count: 4700

Summary: Love demands sacrifices.

Not even once in your life had you ever imagined yourself in handcuffs, in an interrogation room on the wrong side of the table.

You weren’t even at the FBI headquarters though. The police had taken you to the station after the hospital, taking a blood sample and your fingerprints, then they had handcuffed you and left you there with a glass of water.

Of course they suspected you. Of course they thought you had murdered him.

Murder was your father’s legacy, after all.

You traced the handcuffs over your wrists, already feeling the bruises forming there. The shock still hadn’t worn off but you were starting to think it was a good thing. It felt as if you were watching all of this from behind some kind of glass window, perfectly aware of every single emotion but unable to actually feel them.

Spencer had said when you felt threatened, your body produced nervous energy, some sort of a fight or flight reaction but for once you weren’t trying to do any of that.

You just sat there, completely frozen.

“You look calm,” the police officer spoke, making you look up, trying to ignore the faint yelling coming from outside, possibly from the end of the hall.  

“I’m sorry?”

“Most people would be traumatized if this happened to them, they’d be crying, shaking…” he motioned at you, “But look at you. Still as a statue. You look pretty calm.”

“Would you rather if I were crying?”

“I’d rather if you were acting like a human being,” he said, “Why are you so calm?”

Why were you so calm?

Because your mother had taught you this much. Showing emotion when you were afraid meant weakness.

“My father was a serial killer,” you stated, looking him dead in the eye, “I’ve had a complicated childhood.”

“Yeah, I’d say…” he leaned in slightly, “You know, I’ve watched that documentary about your father. His interviews too.”

You raised your brows as he sniffled, trying to look like he was nonchalant about this whole situation.

“And I’ve spent sixteen years on this job,” he said, “After a while, you don’t even need anyone to speak for you to know what they’ve done. It’s all in their eyes and little girl,” he clicked his tongue, “There’s nothing behind your eyes but ice and death.”

You couldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry. Not in front of people, not even if they tried to kill you. No matter how much they tried to hurt you-

No emotions.

“Impressive,” you managed to say, “Very poetic. Have you ever considered changing your career?”

“You know what I think?”

“I’m sure you’re about to enlighten me.”

“I think you wanted to follow your father’s footsteps,” he said, “I think you killed Anthony, and all those other people. It’s not even your fault, is it? Some people are just born broken.”

That was more than enough to make your eyes snap up to his and you could feel the lump in your throat but you bit your tongue so hard that you swallowed blood, making sure to keep your expression still.

“Nothing to say?”

“You’ve already decided what to think of me,” you said, “And I already told you what happened. What more do you want to hear?”

“Right,” he scoffed, taking a look at the file in front of him, “You went to bed around 12, didn’t wake up whole night, when you woke up you found him like that. Lying in a pool of his own blood, in your kitchen.”

“You don’t look like a whiskey girl.” an unfamiliar voice made you turn your head and you lowered your glass, tilting your head. The guy smiled at you, and stole a look at the whiskey glass you had put on the bar.

“Yeah?” you asked, “What girl am I then? If you’re such an expert?”

He thought for a moment, “Hmm, wine?”

“Depends on the occasion.”

“What kind of an occasion does whiskey call for?”

“Apparently an occasion for meeting guys with bad pick-up lines.”

He let out a chuckle, “Yeah, I swear I’m normally smoother than this.”

“I would hope so,” you grinned, and offered your hand, “Y/N.”

“Anthony.”

“But you failed to mention the part you texted him to come to your apartment.”

“I didn’t text anyone.”

“We have your phone Y/N.”

“I didn’t text anyone,” you repeated, “Someone must’ve drugged me and taken my phone, the same person who killed him, the same person who obviously broke into my apartment.”

“How convenient.”

You clenched your jaw.

“I always wake up during night,” you said, your voice completely calm and controlled. “Always. I never woke up last night, there has to be a reason for that.”

“If you’ve been drugged, it will come up on the blood tests.”

“Good.”

“While we wait for that,” he said, “Why don’t we go over what you did last night?”

You took a deep breath, “I woke up,” you said “Went to work. I left work at 7 to go to my sister’s place. I left there around eleven, came home and went to bed.”

“Nothing else happened.”

“Nothing else happened,” you repeated and he sat up straighter.

“Okay. Well just so you know, Dr. Spencer Reid—” he started and your head shot up, your heart slamming against your chest, “He is giving us his professional opinion at the moment, about this case and what might have really happened this morning. Do you have anything you want to change in your story before he’s finished?”

You gawked at him, blinking a couple of times before you turned your head to look at the one-way mirror on the wall.

The BAU was there, behind the mirror.

“….They came back?”

“We’ve sent them the report, yes. They landed an hour ago.”

It was as if somebody was trying to claw your stomach out of your body as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, trying to ignore the burning behind your eyes before you turned to the officer.

“I don’t have anything to change,” you managed to keep your voice stable, “It was a terrible thing, it definitely was but I didn’t do it.”

Someone knocked on the mirror, making you and the officer look that way before he pushed his chair back and left the interrogation room. You closed your eyes for a moment, focusing on your breathing through the blinding headache but opened your eyes when the door opened again.

Luke.

He offered you a small smile and pulled himself a chair.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, sitting up with your back straight, your hands clasped.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you stole a look at the one-way mirror, “Is he there?”

“Reid?” Luke asked and shook his head, “I had to basically wrestle him out of the hall, he’s…he’s not allowed here. Conflict of interest. He’s giving his statement at the end of the hall as we speak.”

You nodded, digging your fingernails into your palms. “Okay.”

“He also called your sister on our way here. Couldn’t reach her, but left a message. Listen, he can’t request it on your behalf, but you need to ask for a lawyer.”

“I didn’t kill Anthony.”

“I didn’t ask if you killed him, I’m saying you need to ask for a lawyer.”

“Does he think I did it?” you asked and Luke shook his head again.

“No,” he said, “But it doesn’t matter what anyone else believes at this point, Y/N. Ask for a lawyer.”

You kept your back straight, rolling your shoulders. “If Spencer left a message to Mina, she’s coming.”

“Is she a defense lawyer?”

“No but she knows a lot of them.”

He took a deep breath and put the bottle of your pills on the desk, “The officers also found this.”

You tried your hardest to focus, moving your wrists to help with the soreness of the handcuffs. “They’re prescribed.”

“I can see that. The side effects say confusion?”

You arched a brow, “I’m sorry, do I sound confused to you right now?”

“No, you sound way too controlled right now, I may as well have been talking to a robot.”

You gritted your teeth, trying to control the panic bubbling at the pit of your stomach, sending anger through your veins.

“I’m not confused,” you stated, “Besides, I haven’t been taking them lately.”

He threw his head back, pressing his lips together, “God, Y/N, you can’t say that. A psychiatrist prescribed you something and you—“

“They’re just for nightmares, they don’t make you…” you took a deep breath, commanding yourself to stay calm, “I didn’t kill him. I found him like that. It was terrible, but I didn’t do it.”

Someone opened the door again and Emily Prentiss cleared her throat.

“Luke,” she murmured, “Spencer.”

You could feel your heart skip a beat upon hearing his name but kept completely still as Luke left the room and Emily and JJ walked into the room.

“You’re taking turns now?” you asked and Emily cleared her throat,

“Me and JJ are the only people in our team who haven’t spent as much time with you, so we figured it would be better if we interrogated you.”

“I didn’t do it.”

Emily pulled herself a chair as JJ crossed her arms, standing by the wall.

“Can you walk me through what happened this morning?”

You took a deep breath, “I woke up,” you said, “With a headache. I knew something was wrong, I felt it. My window was open, the front door was half open and my phone wasn’t where I left it. I stepped outside my room, saw the blood, went to the kitchen and saw—“ you gritted your teeth and clenched your fists, “Saw my ex-boyfriend there. Dead. Lying in a pool of his blood.”

“But you heard nothing.”

“I never sleep for the whole night,” you said slowly, “Check my blood test. Something happened last night.”

“We don’t have your blood test results yet, but there was no sign of any sexual—“

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” You cut her off, a shiver running down your spine, “That’s not it. Whoever it was, they didn’t touch me, they wanted…”

“What did they want?”

You shrugged slightly, “I don’t know. They wanted me to see it I think. My…my father’s crime scenes.”

JJ took a deep breath and pushed herself off the wall.

“And you don’t think it’s a little too convenient?”

You pulled your brows together, looking at her and she stepped closer to the table, her eyes fixed on you.

“Two victims so far,” she said, “The ones that we knew that were in the same place as you, they had some connection to you. That woman who was killed at the charity ball, you didn’t get along when you were kids, you turned her down as a client before she was killed, and now your ex-boyfriend ends up dead, in your apartment because you sent him a—“ she scoffed, “I’m sorry, someone sent him a late night text, inviting him to your apartment.”

“JJ,” Emily started but JJ held up a hand while you tried to wrap your head around it.

She had a point. Two victims so far had some connection to you and that was not a coincidence, it couldn’t have been.

“You think I did it,” you rasped out and she scoffed.

“I think you had something to do with all of this,” she said, “I think you’ve been trying to manipulate Spencer for something. The best case scenario, you were cheating, that’s why Anthony was there and something went bad, the worst case….” She shook her head, “You’re behind every single murder we’ve been looking into, and Spencer was just a tool for you. He’s my best friend, and if I find one single proof that you put him in harm’s way, I swear to God I will destroy you.”

Two people had ended up dead, and that was your fault. The copycat was going after people who had some kind of connection to you, and apparently no one except you and your family was safe.

The idea was way too painful to even exist inside your head, but it was clear as day. JJ was right, you were putting Spencer in harm’s way just by being with him, and if it were him, if you had seen him lying in a pool of his blood, his eyes wide open—

You dug your fingernails into your palms until it hurt before you managed to lift your head, that invisible wall which kept you safe from anyone and everyone who could possibly see anything you felt going up again.

“You…” you trailed off, your throat burning, “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“What does that mean?” Emily asked but before you could say anything, someone slammed the door open, making you and the agents turn.

Mina.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” she asked no one in particular and stepped aside so that 4 lawyers could walk inside before the police officer rushed to you to remove the handcuffs off your wrists.

“You’re not saying another word,” she snapped her fingers, “Come on, we’re leaving.”

“We’re going to need her to sign some papers,” the officer said as Mina grabbed your wrist to pull you out of the room, making you hiss in a breath and she froze, lowering her glances to check your sore wrists for any bruises.

“What did they do to you?”

You shook your head silently, and something in Mina’s gaze shifted. You had seen it only a couple of times, including that time you were getting stitches after some girls in your classroom had ambushed you in the bathroom, and more importantly, you had seen that look on her face when Lily had fever that one time and you all had to rush to the hospital and the doctors said she couldn’t see her.

It was fire, similar to yours, ready to burn everything in its path.

“Don’t say anything to anyone. You two,” she motioned at the two lawyers, “Read whatever she’s supposed to sign.”

The lawyers approached the desk by the door as Mina put her coat over your shoulders, rubbing at your arms as you swayed slightly on your feet, trying to focus.

“We’re leaving, okay sweetheart?”

“Miss—“

“No,” When Mina turned to the police officers and the BAU team, any trace of softness in her voice disappeared, “You don’t talk. If you don’t want to get into even more trouble, you’re going to listen to me right now.”

The officer that had been with you at the interrogation room just blinked a couple of times, obviously taken aback.

“Do you have any idea what you just did to yourself?” she asked, “What you did to this whole precinct? Because allow me to explain, my sister was a victim in this scenario, and you tried to pin this shit on her to make her a scapegoat,” she shook her head, “We will be suing you for defamation of character—“

“Mina, your sister—” JJ started but she snapped her fingers at her.

“I haven’t even started with you yet, wait for your turn.”

“Mina…” you murmured but she didn’t even look like she could hear you,

“Where was I? Defamation of character because press will be all over this, intentional infliction of emotional stress and wrongful arrest and hey, to make things fun we will also be requesting the security footage in the interrogation room and if I see one very small slip of anything that wasn’t supposed to be said and done in that room…” Mina tilted her head, “Well, let’s just say that by the time I’m done with you guys and this whole precinct, the only thing you will be able to afford is going to be a typewriter and a desk.”

One of the lawyers came to tell you the document was alright to sign and as soon as you approached the desk, a door by the hall opened and Spencer stepped out.

It was almost excruciating not to be able to run to him. He looked as shocked as he was and he took a step towards you but JJ stepped in front of him as you grabbed the pen, ignoring the way your name spilled from his lips in a whisper.

“Oh, hi genius.” Mina called out, “Were you getting a glass of water while your team was hounding my sister or something?”

Spencer looked almost confused only for a moment before he turned to look at JJ who deliberately averted her glances from him.

“Mina, this is not necessary,” you croaked out as you signed the papers and she shook her head.

“No, this is very necessary, trust me. You need to show these people what you’re capable of or they will try to fuck you up, case and point.” She turned to Emily, “You’re the one in charge, I suppose?”

“I am.”

“Good. Consider this your warning, because the next time anyone in your team, including the puppy dog eyes over there gets any closer to my sister, we will be getting a restraining order for each and every one of you.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, still swaying on your feet and you hugged the coat around you tighter.

Not that you could do anything other than watching this.

“Your sister is an active part of this investigation, your father specifically asked for—“

“My sister is a civilian,” Mina growled, “She has no responsibility for this case, you do. How about you surprise me and do your fucking jobs?”

You took a breath to say it wasn’t fair, that it wasn’t their fault but Mina turned to look at you.

“Get in the elevator, we’re leaving.”

You were way too tired to fight her, way too tired to even stand there so you followed the army of lawyers to the elevator, while Mina shot the officers and the BAU members a fake smile.

“Pleasure, let’s never do this again,” she said, and got in the elevator with you, and you tried to keep your expression still, Spencer staring at you until the doors slid close.

“4 lawyers?” you managed to say, “I don’t think even Bundy had four lawyers.”

“Tell that to mom,” she said, “She was on the phone with a congressman the last I checked.”

You couldn’t even smile at that, but Mina let out a breath before pulling you into a bone crushing hug, making the tears rush to your eyes as you wrapped your arms around her.

“Never do that to me again, you hear me?” her voice cracked for the first time and you nodded slowly.

“I won’t,” you said, “I promise.”

                                                   ***

It was as if someone had pulled all your energy out of your body. You were exhausted, you could barely understand what anyone was saying but you knew there was no way you could sleep anytime soon.

The blood test, as the lawyers had informed you, finally came back and just like you suspected, they had found traces of chloroform in your system. That and your team of lawyers combined were more than enough to get rid of any kind of accusations against you, so at least you had that.

On the other hand, the fear, the guilt, the sadness were still there inside of you, even if you felt way too numb to reach it.

You wondered if Spencer would have a scientific explanation for that.

Your mother had insisted you would never step a foot into your apartment again, she was already looking for a new apartment for you, one with multiple security systems and until that happened she had told you you would be staying at her house.

The damn thing was way too big anyway and you and Mina had grown up there so you figured it would serve as some sort of shelter.

If it even existed for you.

“Here you go sweetheart,” your mother pushed the tea cup towards you, “Drink it, it’ll make you feel better.”

“I’m fine.”

Kenzie heaved a sigh, “It’s okay if you’re not,” she said, “No one expects you to, anyone would be traumatized.”

“The real estate agent already sent me three apartments,” your mother said, “Huge windows, you love a bright apartment.”

“Mom,” Mina said silently and she heaved a sigh.

“It could help her distract herself,” her head shot up, “Y/N, you should go on a vacation! Somewhere far away from here.”

“Somewhere peaceful could be nice?” Kenzie added, “I think that’s a good idea.”

You and Mina exchanged glances.

“I heard Fiji is lovely this time of the year,” your mother said and you let out a breath.

“Mom, two people died because of me,” you croaked out, “I’m not going to Fiji for vacation.”

“Honey, you could use some peace,” she held your chin carefully and lifted it so that she could look at you better, “You look so…”

“I look like how I feel,” you said and turned your head when the doorbell rang, making Mina sit up straighter.

“Who’s that?” she asked when the maid walked in.

“Spencer Reid?”

“What?” you and Kenzie asked at the same time, your heartbeat getting faster and Mina jumped on her feet but you stopped her, shaking your head.

“It’s okay,” you sniffled, nodding to yourself, “It’s….it’s fine. There’s no point in dragging it out.”

“Dragging what out?” Mina asked you but you walked out of the living room and reached the front door, trying to ignore the warmth filling your system as soon as your eyes caught the sight of him. You stepped out of the house and he pulled you into a tight hug, burying his nose into your hair and inhaling deeply as if it helped him calm down while you just stood there, desperately trying to keep the tears at bay.

You had to do it. No matter how much it hurt you, no matter how much you didn’t want to.

No matter how badly it would rip your heart out.

“You okay?” he asked you, his fingers pushing your hair behind your ear, “I tried your apartment but I figured…”

“Yeah, I’m not going back there,” you shrugged your shoulders, “I’ll move out, it’s fine.”

“Do you want to stay at my place?” he asked quickly and you closed your eyes for a moment, every cell in your body begging you to change your mind.

You couldn’t though. You’d rather die than see him lying in a pool of his blood, all because of you.

“Don’t say that,” you whispered and opened your eyes again, “Please don’t say that.”

He looked almost confused, tilting his head to the side like a puppy before it dawned on him.

“Is this about the file on me?”

You shook your head and he took a deep breath.

“About today?”

“I didn’t send that message,” you said, “To Anthony, I mean. I wouldn’t…. I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“I know that.”

“And I didn’t kill him. I don’t know if you heard, but the blood tests came back positive for—”

“I never doubted that, not even for one second,” he insisted, “With or without blood test.”

“You might be the only one,” you murmured and he paused for a moment.

“What did JJ say to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Because we had an argument on the jet on our way back here and whatever she said…”

You shook your head again, trying to smile.

“I get it,” you murmured, “She’s your best friend, she’s protective of you. That’s normal.”

“Yeah but if she thinks that you’re capable of—”

“I want to break up.”

You could swear the words burned your mouth, some invisible hand clutching your heart tighter and tighter as you willed yourself to keep your eyes on the street, because you were sure that every wall you built to keep your emotions under control would crash down the moment you looked at him. Out of the corner of your eye you could see that he froze and he blinked a couple of times, as if he was lost.

“What?” he asked silently and you tried to swallow the lump growing bigger and bigger in your throat.

“Y/N, wait—no,” he said quickly, breathing hard, “Listen, whatever they said to you today during the interrogation, if that’s what this is about—”

“It has nothing to do with that,” you forced yourself to say, crossing your arms and he took a step closer to you.

“Whatever the problem is,” he rasped out, “We can solve it, okay? Don’t do this.”

That was when it dawned on you.

It wasn’t enough to push him away. You had to make sure to burn that bridge so that neither of you could ever find your way back to each other.

“It’s not one of your cases Spencer, you can’t solve this one,” you muttered and finally turned your head to look up at him, your stomach churning at the sight of betrayal on his face.

“I don’t understand.”

“You—it’s—“ you stammered, trying to find the words, “It’s going way too fast, alright? It’s going way too fast and it’s going to fucking crash, and I can’t—“ you cleared your throat when your voice cracked, “I’m not going to crash with this, I can’t.”

Your father had taught you this way too long ago, when you were too young to even question it.

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

Stab the prey.

“I mean come on Spencer, we’re not in love or anything,” you shrugged your shoulders, “Should be easy enough.”

He stared at you for a couple of seconds, his mouth slightly agape and his brows furrowed, shock written all over his face.

“We’re not in love?” he repeated, “You…you don’t love me?”

Twist the knife.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

His eyes searched your face, as if looking for any kind of clue that could tell him you were lying, or that it was a trick but for once, it was in vain.

You’d had spent years learning how to control your emotions and your expression when it came to heartbreak.

Pull it back.

“It’s not my fault if you’re in love,” you said, each word making you hate yourself more and more, “I can’t be held responsible for that.”

Stabbing yourself would’ve been less painful, you were sure of that but you knew you had to keep going. One last step, one last sentence and you would be done.

Watch them bleed.

“I never told you to love me.”

Then, silence.

You had to give it to him though, it took him faster than it would’ve taken you to pull yourself together if you were the one on the receiving end of this. He blinked back the tears, clenched his jaw and in a second, his gaze turned cold, exactly like yours.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, nodding, “You didn’t.”

But you had forgotten one small detail. 

Spencer knew how to withdraw that knife and stab back.

You cleared your throat and turned around to get inside the house but before you could step in, you heard his voice.

“I was wrong.”

You looked over your shoulder, clutching at the straws to keep it together, “I’m sorry?”

“I was wrong,” he stated, his voice was distant and held no trace of its usual warmth, “Before, I mean. In terms of behavior and psychology, you’re exactly your father’s daughter.”

With that, he walked away from the house, and you just stood there for a moment before stepping into the house and closing the door behind you, that comfortable haze of shock slowly withdrawing from your mind like mist. That hand squeezing your heart twisted it in your chest and you tried to breathe, pressing a hand on your chest.

“Sweetheart?” your mother called out as she stepped into the hallway, then slowly approached you, “You okay?”

It was impossible to stop the tears rushing to your eyes now and a gasp escaped from your lips as you shook your head.

“Mom,” you whimpered, “Please, my—my heart hurts...”

She rushed to you and shushed you gently, pulling you into a tight hug and caressing your hair as you slipped to the ground and you buried your face to her shoulder.

Then the sobs came.

Chapter 18

[prettyboy-asmo]

Spending time/showing affection to GN!MC (Brothers+Side)

I’ve had terrible writers block lately so I decided to just do some general HC about how the boys show affection/ spend time with MC to hopefully get back into the swing of things.

MC is gender neutral and most of the hcs are written with romance in mind.

pure fluff

Lucifer:

Lucifer is a busy Demon, so He’ll take any time with you he can get, Even if it’s just the both of you sitting in the same room, working on your own things. 

He cherishes the moments when you can both do nothing together- a moment to relax with you. When you get that rare moment with him, he likes to be close to you, sitting close enough your shoulders are brushing or his head in your lap or you on his lap- it doesn’t matter

He also likes taking you out on occasion- a nice dinner, maybe some sort of show, symphony, theatre, if you like it he’ll go. Getting to see you dress up more than usual and knowing his brothers won’t be there to barge in. 

He’s not overly touchy in public, but he’ll usually keep a hand resting on your back around others. 

He’s not as verbal about his affection around others either, but when it’s just you two he tends to be far more open with it. 

An absolute favorite of his, however, is when you get to fall asleep together. He’d never, never admit it to anyone else but getting to fall asleep cuddling you is the best thing for him. Especially when it’s you holding him, when he doesn’t have to worry about anything else besides feeling content in your arms. 

That’s also when the verbal affection becomes more open as well, soft whispers as you drift off to sleep.

Mammon:

When Mammon wants to spend time with you, he usually invites himself into your room and just throws himself on the bed. It doesn’t even really matter if you say anything or not, he’ll scroll his D.D.D. until you finish whatever you were doing and pay attention to him. 

If you take too long though he will start to complain.

If he wants your attention and he has something he needs to do like a modeling shoot, he’ll drag you along. 

No matter what it is though, Mammon is always touchy (Despite how much he denies it) things like a hand lingering on your shoulder, fingers interlaced, leaning on each other's shoulders- he likes to be touching you in some form. 

In public he’s just as clingy, his arm wrapped around your shoulders to hold you close to him, (you should want everyone to know you’re with the great Mammon, after all.)

Loves movie nights with just the two of you. It usually ends up with his head on your shoulder or lap, fingers running through his hair. 

He won’t outright say he wants headpats or your fingers in his hair, but he’ll take your hand and place it on his head without a word (he also won’t make eye contact when he does, poor boy is blushing so hard) 

He’s definitely not as verbal with affection. Though if he notices you’re stressed or having a bad day he doesn’t try as hard to deny his feelings and he’ll remind you how much he cares about you. 

Levi:

Obviously, Levi loves being able to marathon Anime or spend hours playing video games with you. 

At first, it’s you who has to initiate any sort of physical contact. It starts slow, sitting closer together, leaning against him, small things. The more you hangout and the closer you get however, the more used to the idea he gets. 

Eventually, anime nights are spent cuddling while watching whatever show was chosen, and more often than not you find yourself in his lap when you guys play video games While he can still end up a blushing mess sometimes, he’s more comfortable asking for physical contact. 

But it’s not just anime and video games. If you show any interest in cosplay he’ll jump at the chance to create costumes together. If you don’t know how to do something, he offers to teach you. 

As you grow closer, he also grows more vocal with his affection, tells you how happy he is to spend time with you or how glad he is that you actually like him and indulge in his hobbies as well.

If for some reason, you both end up going out in public together, he seems far less hesitant to give physical contact. Usually it’s just him holding your hand (sometimes he’ll absentmindedly swing your hands back and forth)

He also enjoys when you simply sit with him while he plays video games- whether you’re cheering him on, watching him progress through plot, or even doing your own thing on your D.D.D. the fact that you choose to spend time with him is enough to make him feel fluttery in the best ways. 

Satan:

Another one who enjoys the quiet moments with you. He likes to sit with you while reading, just sharing the same space as you is nice. 

He also likes reading to you, and while he’s not very touchy in general he likes to have you close in those moments- especially when it’s you in his lap, leaning back against him and your head on his shoulder or you lounging with your head in his lap. 

As cliche as it is- He’s a sucker for cafe and bookstore dates. He likes to see what kind of books you’ll take interest in, offer his own suggestions and ask you about your favorites, he gets to spend time with you and learn about you at the same time. 

Will find a cat cafe to visit with you or an animal shelter. Lucifer won’t let him get a cat but he can at least enjoy them this way- and since it’s time he also gets to spend with you it’s even better. 

He will absolutely tell you how much he cares for you. He ends up being far more verbal than physical when it comes to affection- he says his fair share of cheesy things (You gotta love it though.) 

Like Lucifer, around others his hand is usually sitting light on your back. 

He’d also love murder mystery dinner theaters and the like. That includes watching true crime documentaries/ unsolved mysteries with you. 

Asmo:

He loves to pamper you. Spa days with just the two of you- offering you new products to try for hair/skin/etc. 

If you let him do your nails he will be absolutely over the moon, even if it’s just a clear coat of polish. 

Asmo is naturally a very touchy person- it’s one of the main ways he shows affection. When you’re spending time together, he’s almost always touching you in some form. Draping an arm over your shoulders, holding your hand, resting his hand on your arm- whatever you’re comfortable with.

It’s not just touch however. He has no issues telling you how much he loves spending time with you, he’s very vocal about everything he likes about you, how much he cares about you.

As much as he likes to stay in for spa days, he also enjoys going out with you. 

Loves to drag you shopping. He loves picking out outfits for you, asking you what kind of style you want and going from there, it’s one of his favorite things to see your eyes light up when you try on his suggestions. 

Will also take you out to the Fall and to some parties. It’s true he thrives off the attention of his fans, but when he takes you with him he’s far more focused on you than his followers.  

He can get extra touchy in public. He wants everyone to know you’re with him. Even if he does interact with his fans, the conversation often swings back around to you and him- “Aren’t they just wonderful? I picked out their outfit myself, it really suits them, right? Don’t we look so cute together?” 

Beel:

Beel cherishes any time he gets to spend with you. No matter what it is he’s excited to be able to share his time with you. 

If you like to cook or bake though, he will absolutely be more than eager to offer his help or keep you company in the kitchen. 

If you accept his invites to the gym, whether you do your own workout routine or film him so he can see his own form later, He’s glad to know you're willing to spend that time with him even though he can’t turn his full focus on you. 

Also, while it’s not really spending time with him, if you come to his practices and games he will be so happy. He’s like an excited puppy and he’ll always thank you for supporting him after he’s done. 

Will 100% give you piggy back rides whenever you want. Sometimes he will insist on it, especially if you seem tired or you're somewhere crowded enough that others keep bumping into you. 

He does enjoy cuddling up with you, especially when you end up using him as a pillow or clinging to him- he got used to that stuff with Belphie and he’s glad that you feel comfortable enough to be that close to him. 

A demon of few words, but he does have little actions that show how much he adores you. The most common one when you’re relaxing together is when he lifts your hand in his own, sometimes laying his palm against yours, sometimes playing with your fingers, sometimes simply interlacing your fingers and giving a soft squeeze. 

Sometimes though, he’ll bust out an “I love you,”- usually the most random times, if you’re sitting with him while he raids the fridge, walking to classes, studying together, sometimes he just has to say it. 

Belphie:

Napping together is his favorite, hands down. He’ll take any chance he can get to snuggle and nap with you. 

He’s not one for high energy activities for obvious reasons, but he’ll never turn down a movie night or binge watching shows with you. 

Love it if you read to him. He finds your voice soothing and relaxing, so being able to close his eyes just listen to you is nice. 

Laying together in the planetarium is something he’d never even dream of turning down. 

He’s naturally very touchy. Leaning against you, wrapping his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder, he just likes to be as close as possible to you. 

 When it comes to verbal affection, it tends to come in the form of teasing comments. Though, when he’s just waking up expect sleepy whispers of affection. 

Around others he’s even more clingy than usual. Hanging around your shoulders, holding on to the fabric of your shirt, sometimes his tail will make an appearance and curl around your middle. 

Similar to Beel, he has little unconscious actions of affection. Tracing patterns along your arm/leg when you’re cuddling, nuzzling his head into your hand if you run your fingers through his hair, most often though is when his tail curls around you or drapes over you.

Barbatos:

Another busy demon, but he always makes sure he has extra time to spend with you. 

Outings to markets and joining him on shopping trips is pretty common, and it usually includes a meal at a cafe or nice restaurant. 

He will gladly let you keep him company while he’s baking or cooking- he’ll even teach you some recipes if you show interest. 

While not outwardly affectionate by nature, especially in public, he will keep a hand on your shoulder in crowded areas and he makes it clear that you’re with him. 

If you want to cuddle, he’ll oblige, but he usually won’t initiate it- It’s not that he doesn’t want to or that he doesn’t like it, He just likes it better knowing that’s exactly what you want. 

He does like to hold you when you lay together, both arms and tail around you- he will absolutely bury his face in your hair/ neck. 

You can also expect plenty of gifts-sweets he’s made, little things he sees that he knows you’d like, flowers, etc. 

Even though he’s pretty reserved, his gestures make sure you know he cares about you and is thinking about you. 

Diavolo:

Busy, busy, busy. There’s always something going on that he’s supposed to be doing, but Diavolo always has time for you. 

It doesn’t matter what it is- The fact that he gets time with you is enough for him. 

He does like to treat you to fancy dinners and such, though, in fact, he just likes to treat you in general. 

Diavolo also is very liberal with gifts, though it’s not just small things. Anything he sees that he thinks you’d like, things that remind him of you- anything is fair game. He doesn’t really have to worry about price, and honestly, he’d want to get you the best of what you enjoy anyways. 

Very big on both physical and verbal affection. 

He loves to be touching you in some way, holding hands, an arm around you, you leaning against him- he has absolutely no reservations or hesitations about pulling you into his lap or into his side at any time. 

He will melt if you run your fingers through his hair or lay your head on his shoulder/chest while you’re relaxing. 

He’s absolutely not shy about saying ‘I love you’ or any other sort of affectionate thing, public or otherwise. (He will blush though, especially if you return his words.) 

He doesn’t need to, but in crowded areas he will keep your hand in his or an arm around you.

Solomon:

If you’re willing to sit with him while he does research, that’d be great- if you're willing to help that’s even better. 

He also enjoys taking you to cafes or simply being able to talk a walk with you- the change of pace is nice and your presence is something he can bask in. 

He’s also the teasing type. Snarky comments and bold flirting- He likes to see what it takes to make you blush. He’d also get a kick out of it if you tried to make him blush. It’s not as hard as he thinks, though, some genuine words of affection and he’s blushing like mad. 

He will try to cook for you. Once. 

In public, he’ll let his arm drape over your shoulders, making sure to keep you pretty close to him. He’s got a protective streak to rival the brothers- he’s got plenty of experience with Demons, after all. 

If you show an interest in something, he will be willing to teach you about it. 

Man is a sucker for massages. Will melt into a puddle if you rub his shoulder/back. He also won’t hesitate to return the favor. (He’s surprisingly good at it- Won’t admit it’s because Asmo taught him.) 

Simeon:

His favorite is little tea dates or picnics with you. A nice calm atmosphere and pleasant conversation with you is just what he needs to relax. 

He also likes to tease and flirt, but the second you retaliate he’s a blushing mess. 

Will absolutely take you to plays/musicals/ performances. Being able to share his interests with you is wonderful. 

He will for sure write love letters. It doesn’t even matter if you write any back, it’s easiest to show his affection and how truly deeply he cares for you in writing. 

He’ll be overjoyed if you sit with him when he writes. Sometimes he’ll even bounce ideas off you or ask if something sounds okay. He values your input above all else. 

He’s most shy about touch. He’s honestly not as used to it and it flusters him pretty easily. That’s not to say he doesn’t love it anyways. 

In fact, having you simply tucked to his side leaves him smiling and feeling warm. 

He also likes to be held, especially if you’re sharing a bed. Feeling absolutely loved and cared for in your arms is the best feeling he’s ever had, and he won’t hesitate to tell you that. 

[the7thcrow]

indulgence | part three

~

pairing: felix x (fem) vampire!reader

summary: an indulgence grows to become dangerous as the society of hampden college takes note of y/n’s new blood bag.

series masterlist.

word count: 6.6 k

genre: forbidden love. this part is very angsty oh boy, suggestive.

warnings: blood and blood drinking (because they’re vampires lmao), character death, themes of guilt surrounding said character death, themes of lying and betrayal, murder, sex is discussed but not described, alcohol.

rating: 16+

taglist (open!) : @katya-moro​ @leximb1997​

a/n: hi everybody! here’s a new part of indulgence for you! definitely a bit of a darker tone to this part, as we take a bit of a turn in the storyline (but frankly, i’m very excited about it). if you enjoy this, please let me know (only if you want, of course)! i’m a sucker for feedback. and once again, thanks for reading! i appreciate it. <3

previous chapter.

...

..

.

“No, Felix Lee will be the one to pay this price. Kill him, and the damage you’ve caused will be forgiven.”

The words echo in your mind as you leave the councilroom, your ears ringing. This couldn’t be happening. You expected something terrible of course, but you at least figured it would happen to you.

Then again, wasn’t this punishment worse? To suffer with the fact that this was all your fault, that Felix Lee would die by your hand, while you lived on. No, this was no form of mercy. The Council was cruel, and this was no exception.

As you enter the main hallway, you feel a hand rest on your shoulder. “Y/N,” a familiar voice speaks softly, but it does anything but soothe you.

You whirl on Chan, smacking his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” you spit, staring daggers into him. While you expect him to be smug, or even amused, his eyes seem empty. Sad. He feels guilty.

Of course he does, because that’s who Chan is. He isn’t a monster, no matter how badly you try to make him out to be. No matter how much easier it would be to hate him. You know Chan, and he would never be giddy about something like this.

“I’m sorry,” he pleads as you turn away from him and stride down the hall. “I didn’t think that this would happen. I didn’t think that they would kill him.”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” You mock, refusing to slow down or look him in the eye. “Well, I guess it’s fine then.”

He chases after you. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Y/N. That’s not what I’m asking for. I want to help you.”

At this you turn around to face him, pulling him into a separate, less busy hallway that leads to the library. “What? You want to hand me the blade? Cock the gun?”

Chan opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. His eyes are wide, shocked by the venom of your words.

“No-no? That’s not what I mean-”

“Or do you just want to be in the room while I drink him dry? Try to lend some moral support, because God knows I’ll need it.”

“Y/N, if you’ll just let me talk-” he pleads, once again placing a hand on your shoulder. It’s all too familiar, and only makes your anger spark further.

“No!” You cut him off, your voice dangerously loud. “You sold me out, Chan. You fucked me over. And I don’t care why, I don’t care how you try to justify or fix it now. I don’t care. It’s over. I have to kill someone I care about, someone… someone I could have loved one day because of you. Because of your-”

“Hey, uh, are you guys okay?” A voice asks from over your shoulder. You turn your head to see Jeongin, eyes imploring the both of you with a nervous curiosity.

Chan plasters on a reassuring smile. “Yeah, we’re good, man. Don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” Jeongin asks carefully. “Because I heard yelling-”

“We’re okay,” you say, putting on your own fake smile. “We’ll meet you down at the front in a second, we just need a minute.”

“Ah, alright, if you say so,” he says, not sounding so sure. Slowly, he turns around, disappearing down the hall.

Once you hear the sound of his footsteps fade, Chan turns back to you, his voice low. “Turn him,” he states.

“What?” You ask, eyes narrowing.

“Look,” he sighs. “I messed up, I’m sorry. I thought they’d make you stop seeing him, not have you kill the guy. It was petty and stupid, and in some messed up way I thought that I would be protecting you. Clearly, I’ve managed to do the exact opposite. I’m sorry.”

You open your mouth to fire back, to tell him his apology is not accepted, but as his eyes meet yours, you can’t bring yourself to. His eyes are glassy, on the brink of tears. He swallows deeply, stabilizing himself before continuing.

“And I know if they kill him, you’ll never forgive me. Hell, you shouldn’t forgive me. But that’s the last thing I want, for us to be like this.”

He stops for a second, a breath of silence passing between the two of you. Your eyes begin to sting, overwhelmed by the emotion of it all. It could be your current situation. It could be that familiar look of painful affection swimming in Chan’s eyes. It could be a lot of things. Perhaps it is all of them.

“What do I do, Chan?” You whisper, your voice coming out hoarse. “Fuck, what do I do?”

He hesitates for a moment, before pulling you into a hug. That’s the final push that breaks you, tears fall from your eyes, sprinkling your cheeks. You would be embarrassed, if it weren’t only Chan there to see you. Despite all that has happened, there is still that comfortable acceptance that hangs in the air around the two of you. That involuntary form of care that doesn’t flare out, even after the love has dissipated.

“You turn him into one of us,” Chan says. “It’s the only option, maybe then The Council will cut him a break.”

“I can’t do that to him,” you whisper, shaking your head. “I can’t make him suffer like this.”

“Maybe,” Chan says, setting his chin on top of your head. “But is this really a fate worse than death?”

~~~~

That is the question you contemplate on the lonely walk back to your apartment. Chan had offered to walk you back, but you declined. Despite the moment of reconciling the two of you had shared, you still aren’t ready to be around him. He still hasn’t earned your forgiveness.

As you arrive home, your apartment feels haunted. Not by Chan’s ghost, as it once had been, but Felix’s. You can see him lying on the couch, television playing some history documentary you were both only half paying attention to. You can smell his cooking wafting in from the kitchen, a familiar sweet that had long since been devoured.

You can feel his touch against your skin, the phantom of his fingertips dancing along your back. Your neck. Your thighs.

You can’t kill him, that much you know. However, if you don’t, someone else will. No, you have to fix this, and as much as you don’t want to admit it, Chan is right. The only way Felix has a chance of survival is to turn him, but could you really do that? After knowing just how terrible this life really was?

If you had been given the option in being turned, there was no way in hell you would have accepted. You remember that dreadful night, roughly three years ago. You’d been new to Hampden, and eager to meet new people. You stumbled into him at a party. He was a little older, a little classy. You’d been interested in him right away, not yet having a clue about what he or The Society was. Vampires were nothing but a myth, a fairy-tale, a form of media-culture.

This would change later that month. For good.

The two of you began to see one another casually. It was fun, thrilling. You kept each other a secret, for reasons you didn’t understand the full extent of at the time. He was unlike anyone you’d ever met, for both better and for worse. With his charisma and passion, came a strange, devious obsessiveness. A terrifying need for control. You’d go as far as to say, a lack of humanity.

Then came the night you decided to end things. The last night of your life as you knew it. You told him you wanted to stop seeing each other, he refused to leave. He yelled. He broke things. In the end, he turned you.

When you awoke, your new and rejuvenated self, he was already gone. This wasn’t a desperate attempt at staying together, at making you need him. No, it was revenge. You would pay the price for rejecting him, for the rest of your life.

Which was to say, forever.

You stare at the telephone sitting on your coffee table. Could you really do that to Felix? Could you really take away his life as he knew it? Make him say goodbye to his roommates, his freedom? Everything would become controlled by The Society.

The answer is no. No, you can’t make him do that. But as always, this is not a matter of what you do and don’t want. It never has been. It never can be.

You keep this in mind as you dial Felix’s cell, your fingers pressing the familiar keys deeply lodged in your memory. You don’t have to think, you’ve dialed this number so many times before.

The phone rings three times before he picks up. “Y/N?” His voice echoes through the speaker. He sounds worried. Perhaps he should be. “You there?”

“Yeah,” you mumble quietly, clearing your throat. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Is everything okay?” He asks, his voice full of concern. “This is a lot earlier than you said you’d call. Did you talk to Chan?”

Felix doesn’t know you had a meeting with The Council today, you hadn’t mentioned it to him prior. He knows nothing. Nothing of his death sentence. Nothing of the weight of what you have done.

“Yeah, I talked to him.” You say quietly, before a moment of silence passes by, as Felix waits for you to continue. “Listen, could you come over?”

“Right now?” He asks. “It’s the middle of the day, are you sure?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you think. “There isn’t anything to hide from anymore.”

“I’m sure,” you say, controlling the waver in your voice. What are you going to say when he gets here? How do you tell someone that they’re on death row? How do you offer them immortality? How do you explain the price?

“Okay,” he replies, in that sweet, deep voice of his. “I’ll see you soon.”

~~~~

You don’t know what to expect will happen when you open the door for Felix. How will he react when you tell him? Will he scream? Cry in silence? Or will he just leave, not being able to stand looking at you any longer?

Your stomach knots. You don’t know how he will react, but you know at the very least, he won’t be thrilled.

The doorbell rings, rattling through your apartment, shaking you from your worried daze. You approach the door slowly, hand shakily finding itself clenched around the door knob. With only a breath to settle yourself, you twist the handle.

When Felix see’s you, he can already tell that something is wrong. Perhaps it’s the way your eyes are staring at him as if he’s going to disappear. Or maybe it’s how your hands are shaking, arms wrapped around you, as if you’re trying to make yourself smaller.

All he knows is that something didn’t go according to plan.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks, pulling you into a hug. The gesture is warm, comforting. You could so easily slip away, immerse yourself in the feeling. Forget about The Council. Forget about it all, for just a moment. For just a night.

But oh, how selfish that would be.

“No,” you whisper into his chest, unable to look up and meet his gaze. “No, everything isn’t okay.”

“What’s wrong?” Felix asks, gently breaking away from you. He takes your hand, slowly leading you over to the couch. “Did they do something? Did they hurt you?” He asks, beckoning for you to take a seat.

You laugh, although it sounds far more like a sob. Of course, before all else, he’s worried about you. It is just so utterly Felix, to have all his concerns focused on you, and not an inkling of worry towards himself.

Maybe you should have been more like him. Maybe if you had focused on what danger your little arrangement could have put Felix in, rather than trying to save your own hide, you could have prevented this.

So many maybe’s. So many possibilities you’d never know the answer too.

“No, Felix. They didn’t hurt me.” You sigh, looking up to meet his eyes, which are wide and swimming with concern. He’s panicking, that much is obvious.

“Then what happened? Was it Chan? Did he say something?”

You sigh. Time to get this over with. Rip off the bandaid.

“No, Lix. It wasn’t Chan. It’s about you,” you say. He freezes, slowly pulling his hand away from its place on your thigh.

“About me?” He asks slowly, the look in his eyes shifting from a worried concern, to fear. “What about me?”

You stare at him for a moment, unsure of how to break the news. In the end, you decide to just be outright.

“They want me to kill you,” you state. You expect him to jump away from you. To run, or yell. Something, at least. Instead, he blinks.

“Are you going to?” Felix asks, his tone emotionless. As if he were asking what you were doing that day, rather than whether or not you planned to murder him.

“What do you think?” You look at him, trying to read the expression on his face, but draw blank. You can’t tell what he’s thinking.

He sighs. “Alright. So what are we going to do, then?” He’s awfully calm considering the circumstances. Almost too calm. An eerie chill passes through you.

“Well, that’s the tricky part,” you start, inching away from him slightly. Why is he so relaxed? Did he expect this to happen? How, if you certainly didn’t? “I talked to Chan, and we both agree there’s only one way to solve this.”

“Wait,” Felix looks at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “Chan? As in the same Chan who probably turned us into The Society in the first place? That Chan?”

“Yeah, that Chan,” you mumble, almost embarrassed. When he puts it like that, listening to Chan’s advice sounds foolish, but you know it’s more complicated than that. Chan had fucked up, there was no denying that, but you and Felix didn’t have many allies in this. It’s important to accept help where you can find it.

“Okay, and what did he recommend?” Felix asks, and you can hear the resentment in his tone.

“That I turn you,” you say. Frankly, you’d expected Felix to keep up this strange, cold exterior. Instead his jaw drops and he jumps to his feet.

“You-you want to what?” He stammers, taking a few steps back. His eyes are wide, full of nothing but pure terror.

“Woah, calm down! It’s okay,” you say, rising to your own feet, extending your hand out towards him. It reminds you of that first night you met, when he told you he knew what you were. About how his childhood neighbors were just like you. It is strange, looking back on how much has changed, yet also remained the same.

“You wouldn’t do that,” he states, refusing to take your hand. Instead, he wraps his arms around himself, shrinking backwards. He’s utterly terrified. “You want to make me into a monster?”

At that you frown. You know he’s frightened, that much is blatantly obvious, but a monster? That stung.

“A monster? Is that what you see me as?” You say, your tone sharp.

“Y/N, you know that’s not what I meant,” he huffs, rolling his eyes. Your anger spikes sharply.

“Really? Because that seems to be exactly what you meant.”

“You’re a vampire, Y/N. I think that’s quite literally an example of a monster. You? No, you aren’t one. But Chan? The Society? They are.”

“You don’t seem to find it so monstrous when I drink from you, do you? No, you actually like it. So don’t act like you know what you’re talking about, Felix. Because you don’t.”

“But, I do know!” He shouts back, closing the space between the two of you. You stare up at him, and suddenly you see it. The flicker of something behind his eyes. The flicker of something more.

“How?” You whisper, your breath hot against his lips. “How do you know?”

“Because,” he says, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. You hear it, pounding, the blood rushing through his veins.

“I’m a hunter.”

~~~~

7 weeks prior…

Felix hadn’t originally expected to like you. From what Changbin had told him, vampires were the embodiment of evil. Blood-thirsty murderers, who revelled in the pain and anguish of their victims. Frankly, there really didn’t seem to be anything to be fond of.

No, he had expected to despise you. Fear you. Take the greatest risk he’d ever gambled walking into the library that night. He wasn’t even sure if he’d walk out alive.

Especially after what happened to Hyunjin.

Hyunjin was one of Felix’s roommates. He, Changbin and Han lived together for over a year before Changbin invited Felix to move in a few months ago.

Felix had really liked Hyunjin from the start. The guy was funny, always ready to share a good story, or listen to one of Felix’s own. He was greatly accepting, treating Felix as if he had always lived there, right from the day he’d moved in. He was sweet, creative. A Dance major. Everything about the guy screamed likeable, and Felix couldn’t help but admire him.

Right up until the day he was murdered.

Hyunjin had started seeing someone. Although he wouldn’t admit it to any of his three roommates, the signs were undeniable. He’d disappear late into night, and always come home early in the morning. He’d cancel plans because he “had to study,” and when they came home he was nowhere to be found.

Changbin had confronted him about this, but Hyunjin had denied it. In that care-free, sweet nature of his that made Felix want to believe he was telling the truth.

But he couldn’t, because Felix had seen all the signs too.

Felix remembered one morning, when he woke up to find Hyunjin in the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee. The man hadn’t noticed him walking in, and Felix went to grab him by the shoulders. Just to make him jump a little, nothing too menacing.

But that’s when he saw them, peeking out from Hyunjin’s collared shirt. Two bites marks, clear as day.

When Hyunjin noticed him, he jumped back, quickly pulling the collar of his shirt higher. “Oh! Hey, Felix! You’re up early,” he’d said, laughing. However, Felix could see the falseness of his smile, the intense look in his eyes.

Hyunjin was hiding something, and whatever those bite marks were held the answer.

Now, Felix had never heard anything about vampires before. Therefore, when he saw the marks, he just assumed Hyunjin was into something… a little less than vanilla, to put it lightly. He shook it off. Tried to distance that day in the kitchen from his thoughts.

Yet, the marks stuck with him. They just looked so… real. They were not a human bite, nor any animal Felix could think of. They looked like something straight out of a horror film. The way the skin bruised around them, swollen. The holes themselves were dark. A hollow red.  

Felix should have been concerned. Worried. Instead, he was intrigued. He wanted to talk to Hyunjin about them, but it felt too personal. He’d only known the guy a few months, and the marks seemed to be something Hyunjin wished to hide. He couldn’t just come outright and ask him.

So Felix kept it to himself. A mistake. A huge mistake.

As roughly 3 weeks later, Felix would walk into their apartment to find Changbin curled on the floor, trembling. His cheeks were stained with tears, eyes unfocused as Han sat behind him, patting his back to grant the smallest inkling of comfort.

“What happened?” Felix asked, panicking as he rushed to his friend's side. He may have only moved in a few months ago, but he’d known Changbin almost all his life. They’d gone to the same elementary school, parents being childhood friends themselves. They were close, unbelievably close. And in all that time, Felix had never seen Changbin so upset. So disheveled. Broken.

When Changbin didn’t respond, Felix turned to Han, who was already staring at him with somber, empty eyes.

“Hyunjin’s dead,” Han said, so quietly Felix wasn’t sure if he heard him correctly.

“Dead?” Felix choked, eyes subconsciously trailing to Hyunjin’s bedroom door. “What do you mean? He- he can’t be dead?” There was no way. Hyunjin had to be in there, dancing to his favourite mixes or reading a webcomic, gushing about his favourite dramas. He couldn’t be dead.

“He is,” Changbin spoke suddenly, still not deterring his eyes from their place on the wall. “I saw it happen.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Felix wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t sure how to form words. Shock enveloped him in a fuzzy, mind-clouding fog.

The three of them sat there for what felt like hours, until eventually, Changbin spoke.

“Don’t you want to know what happened?” He asked.

“Okay,” Felix whispered. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know. If he could handle it. Yet, his curiosity got the better of him.

“I was asleep in my room, woke up to the sound of banging on the door,” Changbin spoke quietly. “Heard Hyunjin get up to grab it, assuming it was fine. When he opened the door, he sounded shocked. Afraid. He spoke like he knew why they were here. Like he was in danger.”

“I heard them come inside. Hyunjin started shouting, “get away from me!”, “don’t touch me!” I got up, rushing towards the living room. However, as I was coming, I heard Hyunjin suddenly get cut off. Confused, I carefully peeked around the corner. Can you guess what I saw?”

When Felix didn’t answer, Changbin turned to face him, his eyes finally meeting Felix’s own. Felix swallowed, his heart rising into his throat. Changbin’s eyes were dead, holding a darkness that made Felix shiver.

“They were drinking his blood, Felix. Like a fucking vampire. The guy had Hyunjin pinned to a wall, and didn’t let go of him until Hyunjin was gone. Until he drank every last drop in his body. Then they dragged him out of here. Left as if nothing had happened.”

“That… that’s impossible,” Felix shook his head. The story had to have been fake, Changbin’s way of dealing with the trauma. It couldn’t have been true.

“Is it?” Changbin asked. “Is it really? Because I think we’ve all seen those sickening, fucking bite marks Hyunjin has been carrying around these last couple months.”

Felix froze. That was true, but still, that couldn’t have meant vampires were real. No, that was ridiculous. They weren’t any more real than mermaids, or werewolves. It was simply impossible.

But… was it?

Suddenly, Changbin leaped to his feet, storming across the living room and whipping open the door to Hyunjin’s bedroom.

Han, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, chased after him. “Changbin, no! It’s too soon. Don’t do this to yourself. Not right now.”

“No!” Changbin yelled back, not looking back at Han. He began digging through Hyunjin’s drawers, throwing everything inside out onto the bed. “It’s my fault he’s dead, and you know that. I should have tried to stop it, something at least. But I froze! I didn’t do shit! And now Hyunjin is dead, Han.”

Changbin rushed over to Hyunjin’s nightstand, ripping out the bottom drawer. “The least I can do now is try to prove what happened to him. Try to show that it wasn’t just my bloody imagination, like Felix over here clearly thinks it is.”

Felix, unsure of what to say, remained quiet.

“He doesn’t think you imagined it, Changbin,” Han reassured, carefully putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. “But trashing Hyunjin’s room? That’s not going to solve anything.

Changbin shrugged off Han’s hand, scowling. “You don’t know what will help,” he spat, half-mindedly flipping through one of Hyunjin’s old notebooks. “There’s got to be something in here. Something that will prove that-” he began, but quickly stopped.

Changbin stood silently for a moment, staring at the words on the pages with an intensity that made Felix nervous.

“This is it,” Changbin said quietly, not looking up at them.

“It’s what?” Han said, quickly placing himself beside him, beginning to read whatever was on the pages. He quickly went quiet, his eyes growing wide as he scanned the paper.

Changbin looked up at Felix, an unreadable expression on his face.

“It’s our proof.”

         ~~~~

Hours passed and Felix finally found himself sitting at his desk, the dim light of his lamp cascading over what turned out to be Hyunjin’s journal.

Changbin had finally given it to him, spending hours obsessing over every word and detail. God knows where he was now, having left the apartment around midnight. A couple hours had passed, and he still hadn’t returned.

Han had gone to sleep a while ago, leaving Felix alone with nothing but the ghost of Hyunjin’s words that he left behind. A chill passed through him. This was all he had left of him, these entries discussing what would later become the reason for his death.

Felix paused on a certain entry, one dating back roughly a month ago, regarding the bite marks.

October 23rd.

She fed from me today. Finally. It hurt seeing her so starved, so weak and frail compared to when we first met. Everytime I’d look in her eyes, I’d see how glazed over they were, how blown out from hunger. It physically hurt, knowing how she was putting herself through this pain when I could help her, if she’d only let me.

I had to beg her to do it. She’s so worried about them. So paranoid they’re going to find out. I’m scared too, I guess, but I’m willing to risk it. For her.

As for the feeding itself, it’s difficult to explain. It hurt, undoubtedly, but at the same time it was wonderful. It felt wrong, wild. Raw. But I don’t think I’ve ever felt so connected with someone. It’s not the same as sex, somehow it felt more intimate? Like I said, it’s difficult to explain. Strange.

It’s weird, looking in the mirror now, seeing those marks. Yet, they make me smile. They remind me of her, as if I’m branded with the fact she trusted me enough to do this.

I think I’m starting to love her. Even if worse comes to worst, I don’t think I’d ever regret this. She’s shown me so much, I only hope our time doesn’t run out.

I’m seeing her again, tomorrow. I think Changbin is starting to get suspicious, he made a comment about me leaving late at night. I denied it, but I know he thinks something is up. Maybe Han and Felix do too, but they haven’t said anything.

I want to tell them, I really do. But I know I can’t. I promised her. Besides, roping them into this might make matters worse.

I hope I’m making the right choice.

~Hyunjin.

Felix felt like he was going to be sick. So Hyunjin knew. He knew what was coming, even a month ago. Yet he didn’t stop seeing this girl. Why? Hyunjin was a hopeless romantic, sure. But even so, this seemed ridiculous. Why would he keep doing this, knowing the consequences?

Felix’s mind wandered back to the marks on his neck. The deep gashes of where she’d drank from him. The feeding, as Hyunjin had called it. Was that what made him stay? This strange, monstrous intimacy?

Felix didn’t understand. He didn’t understand how this feeding could possibly be a good thing. And yet, to his own shame, he was curious. Curious of how it felt, how it led Hyunjin down this road to his death.

God, if Changbin could hear what he was thinking now.

  ~~~~

The following weeks passed by in a blur of grief and obsession. Changbin was rarely home. Sometimes he was at the library, doing as much research as he possibly could. Others, he was searching for more hunters, anything to find out more about what exactly Hyunjin had gotten himself into.

Today, the three roommates were sitting on the living room couch, discussing a rather important next step in Changbin’s mission of avenging Hyunjin.

“I found one,” Changbin stated, taking a sip of his gin and tonic.

Han frowned. “What do you mean you found one?”

“I mean one of those bloodsuckers is at the library every night the same time I am,” Changbin stated. Felix shifted nervously. He didn’t like the look on Changbin’s face.

“Okay,” Han continued, his frown deepening. “What do you want us to do about that? You’re not planning on shoving a stake through their heart or anything, are you?”

“No,” Changbin replied, although he didn’t seem to be as appalled by the idea as Han. “I plan on using them.”

“What do you mean?” Felix asked, an unsettling feeling passing through him.

“I mean, one of us has to get close to her. Close enough to figure out who this “they” Hyunjin keeps referencing is.”

“Then what?” Han asked, his arms crossed.

Changbin shrugged. “Then we make them pay for what they did to him. The only question now, is which one of us is it going to be?”

Now, Felix didn’t like vampires. Not at all. Not after what they’d done to Hyunjin. However, he couldn’t seem to find this deep-seeded hatred that Changbin had developed.

No, in fact he felt a level of sympathy for the girl who lived on Hyunjin’s pages. For the sweet and generous girl who would almost rather die than subject him to any danger. She wasn’t a monster, that much was obvious. No, the vampires that murdered Hyunjin, the vampires that she was so terrified of, they were the monsters.

But Changbin didn’t seem to see that. Felix didn’t blame him, he was blinded by both grief, as well as the overwhelming guilt that Hyunjin’s death was his fault. It wasn’t, of course.  Felix was sure that if Changbin had stepped in, they simply would have killed him too. But that wasn’t what Changbin wanted to hear.

So, before he could properly comprehend what he was doing, he spoke. “I’ll do it,” he said, causing the two men to raise their eyebrows.

“Really?” Han asked nervously, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Felix, you don’t have to. You could get yourself killed.”

Felix knew this. Hell, he knew this well. He also knew it was the right thing to do. This girl at the library… If Changbin attempted getting close to her in the state he was now, he’d end up getting one of them killed. Han, bless his soul, was far too paranoid to pull it off. Even now, he tried to distance himself from the entire topic of vampires. Maybe it was fear, maybe he didn’t like the spite in Changbin’s voice when he discussed them, but in any case, Felix knew he wouldn’t be able to do this.

Besides, he could handle it. You deserved to be given a chance. Perhaps you were an exception, like the girl in Hyunjin’s notebook.

“I’m sure,” Felix said. And so your mutual destruction began.

~~~~

Felix had met you in the library under Changbin’s instruction. Made some small talk, a little bit flirty but nothing too wild. He was surprised to find that you were rather pretty, a clean academic look and mysterious eyes. He was also surprised to find that you were witty, as well. Charming.

Based on the way Changbin had described you, well, you were supposed to be nothing short of a demon sent from hell.

You were both sitting in silence, Felix watching as you translated passages from The Iliad into Greek. Which he had to admit, was undoubtedly impressive.

It was then he noticed how glazed over your eyes were, pupils blown out in hunger, just as Hyunjin had described in his journal. Which meant he also knew that you were struggling, refraining from eating.

That’s when he felt it, that slightest pinch of sympathy. You weren’t eating, which meant you also weren’t sucking people dry in their apartments for their roommates to see. No, you were refraining yourself, and that wasn’t a monstrous thing to do.

The pieces fell like dominos after that. He kissed you. You invited him back to your apartment. You both went inside. You kissed some more.

Then he proceeded to scare the ever living hell out of you.

The look on your face when he told you he knew still haunts him. The sheer terror in your eyes, the unchained panic and fear. It was the kind’ve look someone had right before death. As if he were going to murder you.

He hadn’t expected it. He hadn’t realized that him knowing you were a vampire would be so catastrophic to you. It wasn’t like you told him, he already knew, but that didn’t seem to matter.

He quickly made up a story about his old neighbors being vampires, anything to calm you down. Then, to his own surprise, he offered to let you drink from him.

This wasn’t a part of the plan. If Changbin saw what he was doing now, he’d ring his neck for sure. Yet, Felix was curious, even more so then he was before. This intimacy, this incredible feeling that Hyunjin talked about, was it really true? He wanted to know.

There was also the fact of the matter that he genuinely wanted to help you. You were so scared, so petrified, and he was to blame. You were not a monster. You weren’t. You were just a scared girl who had clearly been starving herself, and if he could help with that, he should, shouldn’t he?

You were hesitant at first, but you agreed. Climbing on top of him, your breath hot against his neck. He braced himself for your fangs. Yet even so, nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of breaking through his skin.

It was painful, a throbbing ache erupting from his neck and flowing throughout the rest of his body. Felix could feel the blood pumping through his veins, escaping through his newly punctured wounds. He grabbed your arm for support, his mouth opening in a cry from the pain. Although, he doubted you could hear him, based on the way you lapped so lavishly at the blood, leaning into him.

Yet, with the pain came an undeniable sense of pleasure, pulsing through his body in waves. A dizzying, overwhelming sense of ecstasy, clouding his mind in a hazy fog of desire. It was overwhelming, how the feeling casted over him, draining him of anything but eachother. Here it was just you and him. There was nothing else. Nothing but the two of you.

He didn’t want anything else. Your name rang through his skull, shattering all other thoughts that existed outside this moment. His vision blurred, all his senses drifting from him. Yet, he didn’t want them. Didn’t need them. All he needed was you. You. You. He felt himself fall back, sinking into the floor, his limbs growing limp.

Then it stopped. You pulled away from him. He blinked, attempting to regain a proper sense of consciousness. He saw your face, your beautiful face, and smiled.

At that moment he understood. He understood it all. How Hyunjin followed down that path, how in the end he didn’t regret it.

He knew he’d come to make all the same mistakes.

~~~~

So your little arrangement continued, and slowly it began to develop into more. While enjoyable, it wasn’t just about the feeding. Not at all.

Felix thought you were incredible, to put it lightly. You were unlike anyone he’d ever met. Clever, kind, selfless. You held an unbelievable sense of passion in everything you did.

His favourite days were the ones spent at your place. The comfort of your bed became his safe place. Your kitchen became his creative outlet. His home whenever he was wrapped in your arms.

No, nothing made Felix more happy than the time he spent with you.

That’s what he thinks of now, walking back home from your apartment, after having told you everything. You were angry of course, feeling lied to, betrayed. He doesn’t blame you. He blames himself.

He blames himself for everything that has happened. He knew what would happen from the beginning, what his sentence would be, he’d seen it all before. Yet, he chose to ignore it. Some little voice inside of him said that he was different, that it was merely unlucky what happened to Hyunjin. That you two would beat the odds.

Felix knows that he had been lying to himself. He knows Hyunjin had been careful, just as much as the two of you had been. He brought this upon himself.

Why? Because he loves you. He can admit it to himself now, after everything that has happened. He isn’t sure if you feel the same, especially after the last couple hours. He doesn’t blame you, if you don’t.

He should have just told you the truth from the beginning, but he didn’t want to lose you by scaring you again. His roommates wouldn’t tell anyone, he’d made sure of it when he talked to Changbin and Han a couple days ago. Now that was a horrible conversation, Changbin still hasn’t spoken to him since. 

Felix had told both of them that things hadn’t worked out after the first night he spent with you. That way, he wouldn’t feel pressured in divulging anything you’d told him of The Society. As much as he hated them, so truly hated them, he’d promised you secrecy. He’d honoured that promise as much as he could, even if it ultimately put him in danger.

Yet, that’s not what he’s worried about right now. No, he is thinking of your face that first night you spent together, that look of pure terror. It was something he had never wanted to see again.

That hope was futile, however. As when he told you, he did have to see it again. Watch as your eyes widened, your mouth gaping open and eyebrows furrowed as he told you how his roommates knew. How he came to the library that night looking for you. The details of Hyunjin’s murder.

How a part of Felix knew that his fate could be the same.

You had walked into your kitchen, trying to get yourself away from him. Saying that you needed time to think this all through, and that he should do the same. After all, immortality and eternal bloodlust were two difficult things to be offered.

You told him to leave. He did. He’d said that he would call you within the next couple days, when he came to his decision. Then you’d turn him, if that’s what he decided, and that would be it. He didn’t know what this meant for the two of you afterwards, but there’d be time to figure that out later.

Oh, there would be so much time.

Because Felix already knows what his decision will be.

He hates Vampires. He hates The Society. The way they torment your life, just as they did to the girl in Hyunjin’s notebook. The way they killed Hyunjin. How Chan, someone you once trusted, turned the two of you in without a second thought.

But it doesn’t matter if he hates them. Not anymore.

As in this moment, Felix Lee has decided that he will become one himself.

~~

next chapter.

[9layerdevilfoodcake]

Some Of A Kind

Chapter 1: Virgin in the Chapel

(Michael Langdon x reader)

Summary: When you accompany your friend to a black mass at the Church of Satan. You pick the wrong time and place to let him in on the fact that you’re a virgin, garnering the attention of the ‘chosen one’ himself.

Warnings: murder, mentions of drug use, poorly represented Satanism

Word count: 3,666 (that’s right)

//

It was a typical Wednesday night when you got a text from your friend Tyler.

‘So what do you say? Is tonight the night?’

He had been bugging you for weeks to come see a sacrifice at the satanic church. And since the first time he asked, the conversation always went the same way.

/

“I’m telling you, just one slice and then you can have whatever you want”

“You mean I can have powers beyond compare?”

“Yes” he answered back, in a hopeful tone. Clearly he hadn’t picked up on the sarcasm in your voice.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the excitement in his voice.

“I’m sorry, you do whatever you want over there with your edgelords but I’m perfectly happy in my boring powerless existence”

“First of all we aren’t edgelords, we're satanists. We just see the world for what it is. A dreadful place full of selfish people.”

“Well I can’t say I argue with that”

“Exactly, so give in to being selfish, and start doing what you want. You work so hard, and for what a one bedroom apartment you can barely afford and bags under your eyes that are only getting bigger by the day?”

“Hey” you interrupt, slightly offended. Which only earns a laugh on his end.

“I’m just saying, you put in so much effort for no pay off, when you could do this one thing and have everything you deserve”

“What a cable package and a ‘skip the line’ pass at Disneyland?”

“I also get unlimited snacks!”

“Oh sorry how could I forget, well if one soul is all it takes to get a free waffle cone then what are we still doing here?!” You ask back, your tone full of mockery.

“Have you ever wondered why I can snort as much coke as I want and have never OD’d? Or why every girl I bring home is a certified 10?”

Actually you had, the two of you had met the year prior in a religious studies class when you were partnered to write a paper on whether morality was dependent on a god. He could barely get through a sentence without tripping over his words or looking away in embarrassment. It was sweet really, and by the end of the class you two had basically become best friends.

But about 2 months ago things started to change. There was almost always a girl leaving his house when you would come over.

You swore at least two of them you recognized from Victoria Secret runways.

One night you even saw a man leaving whose resemblance to Ryan Reynolds was suspiciously uncanny.

He got a new car without any explanation as to where he got the money, and he had so much coke in his living room you assumed he started dealing, before he told you it was just his stash for the weekend.

At first he was vague about everything, but eventually he told you the truth, or at least what you assumed was a version of it.

For his final project he wrote a research paper on the church of Satan.

You went with him to a couple of services when he was writing it, him being too nervous to go alone.

You both thought they seemed a little kooky, but relatively harmless.

Yet what you didn’t know was that he kept going back after the class ended and had gotten himself sworn in, and eventually given the honor of participating in a black mass.

Where he had sacrificed a school teacher in order to get these new “gifts”.

Now you weren’t naive enough to think he actually killed someone!

You were sure his new lifestyle was a part of some religious Ponzi scheme, and one day the debt collector would come calling.

You’ve watched enough documentaries to know better than to get involved with this.

But he is still your friend so you take it upon yourself to be supportive and let him have his moment, while simultaneously letting him know you’ll be here for him if the day comes that he gets excommunicated.

“I love you and I am so happy for all you’ve gotten, especially when you share it with me, but I’m good, really. I’ll let you know if I ever change my mind”

That dropped the subject for a while.

 

That is until a few days ago when you lost your job.

Well actually when your job was stolen from underneath you by your boss's son.

All it took was one night of bitching to your best friend for the talks of satanism to start up again.

//

So here you were bored on a Wednesday night actually considering his offer to watch a black mass.

‘Well…’

He texted back after a few minutes of no response on your part

‘Fine’

It’s not like he’s ever going to let up, you might as well go see what all the hubbub was about.

After he picked you up, you made your way to the church.

More precisely the back alley with a hidden door. Not at all unsettling.

And the rain pelting down on the robe he gave you just adds a nice ominese touch to what you're sure is going to be a long night.

Now inside you sit in a pew in the back. While the choir above you sings as the others file in.

They actually sound pretty good if you’re being honest. Maybe on your way out you’ll pick up the album you saw for sale in the lobby (for $6.66 no less).

You haven’t been sitting more than 10 minutes before the mass begins.

And in that time Tyler roughly explained what you were about to see.

You weren’t paying too much attention though. More enamored with the atmosphere.

It was a sea of red cloaks and black pentagrams. And the thunder outside appeared to clap along in sync with the crescendo or the choir.

This place seems vastly different from the shabby collection of misfits you encountered when you visited the first time. Who spent most of the service complaining and handed you a stale donut on your way out the door.

“...Y/n are your listening?!”

“Hmm Yea”

“Really?”

“Yea the guy’s gonna sacrifice some ‘innocent soul’ say a few hail satans and voilà he gets his hair back and starts getting laid again” you answer back, waving him off. You’re more interested in watching two Satanists in the front of the room give each other the “sign of the cross” gesture in reverse order.

“This is serious, the things you see might shock you but you can not react! If they think you’re some sort of threat to our secrets or even just afraid of them, it won’t end well. I’m kind of taking a risk by bringing you here”

That brings your attention back to your friend.

“So you hound me for weeks to come with you, but I’m not even allowed to be here?” You ask back, starting to wonder why you actually said yes to this.

“Well yea, I just really want you to see what I’ve seen, I want what’s best for you”

That was actually really sweet of him.

Now you felt a little bad for making fun of this so much.

That is until you see a man in the next row pull out a flask with “unholy water” written on it and rub it on his chest like Vick’s.

But before you get the chance to ask Tyler where he keeps his flask(which you're certain he has). The choir stops singing and the Priestess has the room's attention.

Everything goes as Tyler explains at first.

The “sacrifices” are brought in in their underwear. (They couldn’t even keep their clothes on, what does the devil give them a level up if the victims are humiliated before they die?) and tonight's chosen one, Phil, is about to take his position, before you hear a voice behind you.

“Wait!”

You turn your head to see an older woman rushing in, but it’s not her that steals your focus it’s who walks in behind her.

He is quite possibly the most attractive person you have ever seen. With cheekbones that could slice butter and soft blonde hair falling around icy blue eyes.

She says his name is Michael and this honor belongs to him.

You look over to Tyler to see what’s going on. He didn’t explain what part of the performance this was, was this some sort of second act surprise?

You were expecting this night to follow like a church service, watching Phil take his vows and minimal audience participation. Now you wonder if this is all rehearsed, or if the Satanist’s are partial to improv?

But Tyler pays you no mind, he can’t take his eyes off the blonde either.

It’s not until the Priestess mentions the “mark of the beast” and that he is the chosen one, that you get why Tyler is looking at him like he’s some sort of god.

Because to him he is, this guy is supposed to be the Antichrist.

Tyler says nothing only glances in your direction when he sees you’re the only one still standing, before he pulls you down to your knee like everyone else.

The rest of the performance is really top notch.

The flickering of the lights was a nice touch, but you can’t help but feel a little uneasy wondering how they keep getting the thunder to time up with everything they do.

Plus the bodies of the sacrifices fell to the ground almost too well.

How did they manage to get their bodies to look that lifeless, and why did those cuts look so deep?

But you try not to focus too much on it as you walk to the ceremonial Wednesday night potluck.

/

After the Antichrist has dismissed his followers from fawning all over him, you sit with Tyler at the end of the table and dig into your lasagna.

“So does the antichrist part happen at every sacrifice or is this one special? Is it some Satanic holiday I wasn’t aware of?” You ask, breaking Tyler out of whatever trance he appears to be stuck in.

“What?”

“I gotta say the dramatics were very entertaining, but if you really wanted to get me here all you had to do was tell me the guy who plays the Antichrist is really hot” you snicker under your breath.

“Play? Y/n your don’t understand he IS the Antichrist” he explains in a hushed voice before continuing

“That doesn’t happen every time, he really has come. This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for! Don’t you see?! I think it was fate you came here on this night!”

“Ha, why do you need a virgin to sacrifice or something?” You laugh and take another bite before you look over and see Tyler staring at you with wide eyes.

“What?”

“You’re not serious are you?”

“Well yea, what’s the big deal, I didn’t realize you were so caught up on a social construct”

“I’m not, but you can’t say things like that around here” he looks around the room nervously and you follow his path of vision until your eyes land on Michael, who’s own gaze is locked on you.

There’s no way he heard you, you were across the room and you were whispering.

Still he continues to stare with eyes that speak only of intensity. No smile, no nod, no hint emotion whatsoever.

It’s only after you raise your brows and mouth a “What?” That he looks back down at his plate with a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Oh Satan, I think he heard you. You should go” Tyler’s tone becoming more erratic by the second.

“What?” You’re sure he's joking, but when he looks at you there is nothing but worry in his eyes.

Now you’re starting to get nervous, this is too far.

He actually thinks these people are going to do something?

He’s practically shaking with fear, and because of the man in the turtleneck? Who barely knows how to hold a spoon?

Okay you’ll play along for tonight, but tomorrow you are having a serious talk, he might need professional help.

“Alright let's go then” you huff out as you start to grab your belongings.

“I can’t just leave, especially since our savior is here, but I’ll make sure everything is good and you’re not followed or anything”

“Okay, is there some sort of satanic shuttle bus that can take me home? Or should I call an Uber? Does this place have an address or should I just send them an inverted cross?”

Still unamused by your inability to grasp the gravity of the situation, he just shakes his head and hands you his keys.

“Here just take my car, I’ll get a ride later, in fact stay at my house incase you’re followed”

He’s basically pushing you out of your seat and nodding to the door.

“Okay...bye I guess”

And with that you take off down the hall.

You know you’re supposed to go straight to the car. You’ve never seen Tyler look so serious in his life.

But when you walk past the chapel you can’t help but stop. You can still see the bodies up at the altar.

Why are they still there? Was there a trap door you missed and these were just doubles?

Or were these people so committed to the role and as crazy as your friend that they had to stay in the character of “dead sacrifice” all night?

Curiosity got the better of you, the car could wait, you had to see for yourself.

Closer inspection did nothing to stifle your suspicions.

It looked so real.

They weren’t breathing, so there was no way they were still the two actors, but you had never seen fake bodies look so real.

You're reminded of an anatomy class you took last semester.

Those cadavers looked suspiciously close to these.

Just colder and with less life left in their faces.

And there was so much blood, the iron was thick in the air.

But that couldn’t be true. Your friend wouldn’t kill someone would he?

He didn’t actually think they would kill you?

If you got a closer look, if you just swiped some of the “blood” with your pointer finger it would surely taste like corn syrup and not like…

“Are you afraid?”

You whip your head around, blood still staining your finger and beginning to drip onto the linoleum. To see Michael walking in the same way he had an hour earlier. Only this time without the cloak, but with some newly added confidence.

“They’re really dead aren’t they?” You know it’s true, but you still wait for his confirmation.

“Yes, that tends to happen when you slice someone’s throat” He acts as if this shouldn’t be a shock to you. It didn’t shock any of the other members of the congregation. Yet you know without him saying it, that he’s well aware you’re not like the others. That you don’t belong here.

“So you really sacrifice people, just to get stuff” you blurt out. Still trying to wrap your head around the fact that everything you witnessed tonight was real. Perhaps you shouldn’t have taken that last crescent roll you’d seen another satanist eyeing at dinner, you definitely have a curse coming your way. That is if you live through the night.

“Well not me” Michael says, pulling you out of your thoughts and back to the present.

“Oh of course, you’re the one they do it for”

“Well my father more specifically”

“Does that upset you?” You know you should be more careful about how you proceed with this conversation, but the words leave your mouth before your mind can stop them.

The question seems to catch him by surprise as he ruffles his brow, you’re not sure if it’s in anger or just shock at your brazenness. But he doesn’t answer. Just goes on to question you.

“Have you ever witnessed a murder before?”

“No”

“How did you feel watching it before your eyes?”

“Well I didn’t feel much, considering I thought it was all fake” That earns you a smile from him.

“And how do you feel now?”

“Curious”

“Really? Not scared?”

“No. Why should I be?” You’re really digging your own grave here. But your mouth seems to have a mind of its own.

“It seems your friend would say otherwise”

“Ah so you did hear.” You say, seeing his smile grow wider. “These aren't the days of the Old Testament, virginity doesn’t equally purity. Just ask sacrifice number one over there, with a body like that I doubt she was a virgin” you laugh, partially at your joke and partially out of sheer uncomfortableness. Michael doesn’t even spare the bodies a glance, eyes latched onto you, you go on to add

“I’m no saint. Despite my sexual history, or lack thereof”

“No, I’m sure you’re not” he emphasizes by swiping some of the liquid from your finger with his own, before taking it into his mouth. Making a show of it by closing his eyes as he releases it from his lips, slow as molasses. Smiling when he opens his eyes and sees you’re practically drooling.

Before his little show can go any further, you continue with your own questions.

“Have you killed people before?”

“Yes”

“How many?”

“You don’t have the time”

He’s looking at you waiting for your response. Waiting for the shock to subside and the shrieks of terror to take over.

Instead you just pause thinking everything over.

You should be scared, you know you should.

In one night you have watched two people die, found out your friend is a murderer, and that the Antichrist is not only NOT a myth, but is standing in front of you, conversing with you like he’s nothing more than your new neighbor.

Yet you search and search in your mind for any hint of fear and come up empty. All you feel is curiosity. You must be losing it too, you feel bad for judging Tyler so harshly. Maybe it’s his youthful face and the little outburst in the dining hall earlier, but Michael seems like more than simply the ‘incarnation of evil’. He seems so...human.

And more than anything he just seems confused and dare you say, lost.

“Do you like killing people? Or do you do it because it’s expected?”

“It depends”

“Would you like to kill me?”

Now it’s his turn to take pause, looking like he’s trying to decide if he’s “in the mood” to take your life.

“Not right now”

You can’t help but laugh at that (yea you’re definitely in shock). Soon enough he joins in too, and the mood feels lighter than it has all night. You might even say you feel comfortable.

That is until the laughter subsides and you meet his eyes. He’s now staring at you with the same intensity you’d met earlier at dinner.

It’s like he’s looking right through you, into your soul. You feel on display and more than anything afraid of what he might find.

“Stop that”

“Stop what?” He says with a playful tone and a tilt of his head.

“You’re..well..I don’t know what you’re doing but I don’t like it. You’re trying to get a read on me or something.”

He just smiles at that, because of course he does.

You know there is no avoiding playing into his hand. He wants to get a rise out of you, in one way or another.

“And what do yo-”

“Y/N!”

At the mention of your name you both turn to see Tyler standing in the doorway.

Antichrist or not, the look Michael gives him is enough to send a wave of fear up your spine.

He appears as though he’s about to snap his neck through just a look(and you're afraid to find out if he could).

Noticing his anger, Tyler stops and bows before Michael, apologizing incessantly for interrupting him.

You don’t miss the twitch of Michael’s lips. He’s clearly loving the effects he has on his followers.

You just roll your eyes at your friend.

“Calm down Tyler, get up”

He just let’s your words pass over him as if you hadn’t even spoken. If he hadn’t been the one to call your name a moment ago, you wouldn’t be sure he even knew you were in the room.

Every sense he had was aimed at Michael, and it was only when his precious dark lord gave him a nod that he got up and looked your way again.

“What are you doing? I thought you were going home?” He says through clenched teeth.

If he weren’t so worried about keeping you alive he would be pissed at you for not listening.

“I was. I am” you reassure him turning to Michael.

“It was a pleasure to meet you Michael, I’ll see myself out”

You are scurrying out of the room, grabbing a frozen Tyler and tugging him along with you, when Michael calls after you.

“No y/n, the pleasure was all mine.”

You’re at the end of the hall, and in the middle of Tyler’s scolding session, when you realize there is still blood on your finger.

It feels like it’s vibrating where Michael touched you, begging you to take notice.

Just wipe it on your jeans, you tell yourself.

Wait until you get to the car and find a napkin.

Do anything rational other than what you're thinking.

As you pass through the exit door, you cave and take a taste of the crimson on your finger.

Although you can’t see him, you know Michael is smiling. You can feel his smugness in the air around you and you're sure he knows what you just did.

This started out just as me wanting to make some jokes about Michael and the Satanists and has somehow turned into a multi-chapter fic. I still don’t really know where it’s going I’m just letting it take on a mind of it’s own. If it looks familiar it’s cuz it’s been on ao3 for a little bit now, so sorry it’s not a “new” new story! If you liked it that makes me very happy, and if not I hope it was at least entertaining! Either way thank you for reading!

(I wasn’t sure who wanted to be tagged just in my Xavier fic and who did in general so I didn’t add a tag list to this one)

[cblgblog]

Imagine Mildolyn, "Illicit Affair", Modern AU. Where Gwen's campaigning for Congress and all the meet and greets, showing up for charities for publicity, her 'cause'. At one for special needs children and their foundation she meets a very young CNA named Mildred and sort of falls head over heels in the dumbest of ways, both just love struck. Except she's campaigning to be in Congress, she's a politician, she cannot be queer and chasing after 19 year old ex-foster kids whos brothers are set to be the youngest executed on Death Row in California in decades for appalling crimes. But there she is, in hotel rooms her supporters pay for, with someone she shouldn't be with, trying to find ways to overturn cases that turned stomachs with their brutality, because a pretty girl smiled at her and called her 'ma'am' while showing her around the foundation/care home she worked at with children no one else had the time/patience to care for. Of course it goes terribly with 'dirty little secret' vibes, the breast cancer diagnosis announced on twitter before she tells Mildred in person, even if it's such a minor case ('so they say') and caught so early that it'll barely leave a scar, radiation won't be much of a deal at all. She doesn't get to tell Mildred that, she just gets to hear on Fox news about how the democrat's gonna die a horrible death and panic.

Mildred who has no patience for politicians and their fake concern, using patients as photo ops. It’s manipulative, it’s distracting to the staff, it’s awful, okay, she hates it. She is, in fact, a tad bit rude to Gwen when they meet. Gets her a death glare from Betsy Bucket, gets Gwen intrigued.

“Republican?” only half-joking.

“No.”

“Is it the suit? Should I have worn a different suit? I wanted to, but I’ve been told this one tested better.”

“The suit is fine.” It’s more than that, actually, but Mildred will not be saying that aloud, nope, uh-uh. “I don’t much care for politicians.”

“Ah, we have that in common then.”

“I doubt we have much of anything in common. Ma’am.”

And look, Gwen doesn’t usually go in for the chasing, the hard to get. She’s got enough trouble chasing votes. But this woman is so good with the kids on her ward, so patient. She’s got Disney scrubs on and as much as she’s got no time at all for Gwen, she seems to have infinite amounts for those kids. She stays with them individually, longer than any of the other staff Gwen sees, but she still manages to get a dozen things done in half as many minutes. And she’s also gorgeous, there’s that.

And Gwen has no good reason to ask her out for lunch. Honestly, none. Nothing good can come from this. Mildred asks if the citizens of California will be paying for this meal and Gwen swears that isn’t the case, no, absolutely not. Even still, Gwen doesn’t expect Mildred to say yes. She doesn’t think Mildred expected Mildred to say yes.

But she does. Tells herself it’s for Edmund, maybe this’ll be the one politician who listens, who’s willing to look past the surface facts, willing to help. Except she gets there and they don’t talk about Edmund. It’s not because Mildred doesn’t know how to bring it up, she’s made her case dozens of times. She just…they don’t talk about him, and that feels like a betrayal, but Gwen’s kind and funny and fascinating (much to Mildred’s annoyance), and she just…doesn’t feel like getting into it.

Meanwhile Trevor, Gwen’s campaign manager/law school buddy/best friend/lavender marriage soulmate, if they were in a different time, is like bitch, what’re you doing? Yes, everyone knows you’re gay as hell, but you can’t be chasing girls right now, you can’t afford to be distracted. You especially can’t afford to look distracted. And you can’t be robbing the cradle while looking distracted.

“She’s not that young.”

“Uh-huh. She wears Winnie the Pooh clothes.”

“Scrubs, those are scrubs. Scrubs aren’t clothes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She works in a children’s ward, Trevor.”

“Uh-huh. I really wish you wouldn’t do this, but since you care nothing about me and my mental state and all the hours and hours of hard work I’ve put in for you—”

“After badgering me into hiring you over someone more qualified.”

“Hey! More qualified. I resent that. Anyway, if you insist on ruining my day, at least wear that face cream I gave you. Should make you look less like you’re robbing the cradle.”

“Go to hell.”

“And don’t do the oyster thing. Not on a first date, in the middle of the campaign.”

“It’s not a date, it’s just lunch.”

“Uh-huh.”

Gwen doesn’t do the oyster thing. Not on the first date, which neither of them acknowledge as a date, for entirely different reasons. But then there’s a second and a third, and sex, lots of sex, and it’s harder to pass off as just friendly.

And yeah, the sneaking around that Gwen hates. That Mildred says she doesn’t mind, and she actually doesn’t seem to all that much, which Gwen finds slightly concerning. Mildred’s good with secrets though, she’s good with being kept a secret. Mostly. Which again, Gwen finds concerning.

There’s pillow talk and Mildred admitting more about herself than she has to anyone, ever. Which still isn’t nearly as much as what Gwen admits, but it’s a relative thing. And still, Mildred doesn’t talk about Edmund. Gwen finds that one out on her own, stumbles across some old photos, a scrapbook of Edmund’s crimes. Gwen’s briefly concerned that Mildred is one of those people who’re deeply attracted to serial killers, but the truth is…something else.

Mildred tells her things. Some of the deeper, darker stuff, but not much, not yet. Tells her how she’s written to everyone she can think of because he’s a boy, okay? He was in an impossible situation, they both were, no one ever helped them, so Edmund decided he had to die. No one helped them before, no one helps them now. There’s anger and tears and Gwen holding her and she can’t help asking why Mildred didn’t talk to her sooner, if she’s had no problem asking for help from strangers.

“Because you aren’t,” Mildred says in a way that makes it clear she’s figuring this stuff out as she says it. “A stranger, you aren’t. You never were and I couldn’t…I didn’t want to become one to you. I didn’t want you to look at me like that.”

“Oh Mildred…”

Mildred doesn’t actually ask her to help. She doesn’t want Gwen to think that’s what it’s all been about. It was supposed to be, but it isn’t. She doesn’t ask. Gwen digs into things herself, digs into this kid who was barely double-digits when he did these things. Made all the headlines at the time, but that was over a decade ago, he’s been locked up ever since. Most of Mildred’s money goes to him, one way or another.

Gwen hides it from Trevor—the murderer, not the sex, he knew about the sex before she ever said anything—for as log as she can. But he’s always been nosy, and now he has a paid excuse to be nosy, and he nearly has an aneurysm when he hears why it is that Gwen’s suddenly digging into this case instead of kissing the babies of gay couples, like she should be.

Gwen cannot do this. Nope, absolute no. She cannot be sneaking around with the younger sister of the kid they’ve made all the documentaries about. Doesn’t matter that she’s running on a platform of prison reform, especially as it pertains to juveniles, this is not the case to start with, especially when she hasn’t won yet.

And Gwen knows. She knows. She argues with Trevor about it until he decides they both need to stop because Gwen has a speaking engagement tomorrow and she can’t sound hoarse. There are many further arguments, arguments about principles over politics, but Gwen knows he’s right. She cannot, should not, be doing any of this, at least not yet. It’s dangerous, it’s selfish, Mildred deserves better than being someone’s secret again. Gwen should break it off, at least until the election. She’s not being fair to either of them like this. They should stop, at least for a few months.

Except it’s Mildred and she’s totally hijacked Gwen’s everything, and the thought of stopping makes her ill, and everything about this is terrifying, the most terrifying thing ever.

And then there’s the checkup and the routine mammogram. Gwen started those earlier than most because somebody’s aunt on somebody’s side of the family got sick, somebody’s cousin on the other side did too.

Scratch that, there’s a new winner for most terrifying thing ever.

It’s good, they say. She started early, they caught it early, this is good, they have treatments for this. Good, they say, while Gwen damn near passes out. She’s got a campaign to finish, she can see the Too Sick to Serve headlines already. A bald look would not test well, she’s sure it wouldn’t. She talks to Trevor about that, about the campaign, until he tells her to shut the fuck up, yanks her into a crushing hug. He cries, damn him, and that makes her cry.

She’s glad he’s there.

She wishes Mildred was.

She is also relieved as hell that Mildred isn’t, that they’re on opposite sides of the state right now. No point having Mildred see her like this, having her worry. She’s got enough to worry about, enough to hurt about.

Not that Gwen isn’t planning to tell her. She is. It’s only been a few whirlwind months, but Gwen knows enough to realize that a lie of omission would be a bad, bad, bad idea where Mildred’s concerned, regardless of intention. Gwen doesn’t think of hiding it anyway, not really. Mildred deserves better then that. When and how to tell the public…that’s a completely different clusterfuck of a situation, but Mildred, Gwen just wants to tell her in person. That way Mildred can see her face when she promises it’s no big deal (hopefully without seeing how terrified she actually is), and Gwen will have all the paperwork and things she knows Mildred will want to see, and they can hold each other, and it’s just, it’s not phone call news.

Except then it’s headline news, because somehow it’s leaked. Fox News is having a field day, certain corners of the Internet are already gleefully writing her obituary, and she’s missed literally hundreds of calls by the time she gets a look at her phone. At least half of those are from Mildred. Mildred who actually sounds hysterical for the first time since Gwen’s known her, that bastard on the news with the hair, he says you’re dying, why aren’t you answering, how long have you known, please, please pick up the phone, just pick up the phone god dammit.

She’s managed to keep Mildred a secret for months. This? This doesn’t last three days before it’s everywhere. Gwen does get an I love you for the first time ever, but seeing as Mildred’s sobbing over her voicemail when it happens, the joy is somewhat muted.

[croscupsroom]

True Happiness (T, pre Sam/Castiel, 1.5 k.) True happiness lies in the mundane (and it’s bedtime for Sam and Castiel). Set some time after 14.08. Read on AO3.

AN: if it looks familiar, i have posted this before but accidentally deleted that account. thought i'd reupload it since i put it on AO3.

AN: short mention of cas having skipped meals, towards the end.

In the evenings now, Castiel likes to go down to Sam’s room, and hangs out in it doing quiet activities or watching TV until Sam comes to bed. They’ve had this routine for a while, only skipping nights when the brothers are out of town. This time, it’s not exactly the evening — more like the middle of the night, not that long before it crisps into early morning.

Sam doesn’t have the healthiest of sleep schedules. He sleeps too little, at imprecise hours. That doesn’t bother Castiel. He doesn’t sleep at all, so Sam’s lack of habits doesn’t inconvenience him. What preoccupies him is Sam’s health. He listened to a podcast episode, once, that detailed how exactly lack of sleep could impact human bodies. Hearing that made him think of Sam, sluggish; of the cogs in his brain rickety from too few hours of rest. It made him worry about future outcomes.

“Alright, Dean,” Sam says from outside his bedroom door. This signals the end of a conversation Castiel wasn’t privy to. Like most of theirs, really.

Cas sits on the bed, legs extended in front of him. His shoes are on the floor, by the bottom of the bed. He’s wearing pajamas. Something tells him that the flannel feels pleasant, where it falls on the outside of his shell.

The last time they went to Goodwill together to shop for Jack, Sam pointed out the set on the rack. Maybe you’ll like this better than sitting in your clothes all night long , Sam said like the subject might bristle Cas.

Castiel is an angel. Clothes are all the same to him. What the remark told him, though, was that it must bother Sam for him not to change himself at bedtime. Why else would he suggest it at all, or so cautiously? Castiel wondered if it was that the trench coat’s noise bothered him, whenever some of the polyester canvas rubbed on itself in soft scratches that made him cringe. Maybe it was that Castiel disrespected some social convention without realizing it, and Sam was hinting at some way to fix it.

Looking at the flannel on the hanger, Castiel wondered if it was that Sam might want him to get undressed at night, and act as though they were going to bed together.

Of course , Castiel said then. I’d like that better.

You sure? Sam retreated, like he was worried that he had pushed Cas too far, and forced his answer.

I am, yes. I’m sure this sleepwear will be more comfortable. That was a lie, but one that he hoped would reassure his friend.

Sam, swelling up in relief, put the pajamas in the cart and waited for Castiel to follow him to the next rack.

Since then, Castiel changed into the pajamas in the evening before Sam turned in for the night. They developed their own little rituals, like maybe Sam was hoping to by suggesting the pajamas in the first place.

“What’re you watching?” Sam asks. The TV’s on, the volume barely above a whisper. He kicks off his shoes, his feet now bare on the concrete.

“I’ve been rewatching Arrested Development.”

“Oh, yeah? Again?”

They first watched it together years ago, when Castiel started spending his evenings in Sam’s room. He rewatches it sometimes on his own. Even after all these times, it still eludes him.

“The humor puzzles me.”

“Yeah. I can see it being hard to take in.” The remark could come off as condescending, but it doesn’t. Sam is trying to understand where Cas is coming from.

As Sam begins brushing his teeth at the sink, Castiel pauses the show. Sam has his back to Cas, and his eyes are focused on the porcelain below. He doesn’t own a pajama set — he always just puts on sweatpants and an old t-shirt for bed.

Sometimes, it seems like Sam is more weathered every time he comes into Castiel’s consciousness. He’s very different from the young man Castiel met not so long ago — a dull translucent rock, from what was once a sharp-edged fragment of a glass bottle.

Castiel hasn’t spent much time thinking about the effects of underground living on human morale. He imagines it can’t be too good, living in a bunker without windows like Sam and Dean do. Troglobites are hardly the most vibrant lifeforms. Human societies, if they can help it, do not choose this environment for themselves. If he tried, Castiel could surely find a podcast episode available about the subject — something about miners maybe, and their getting hopelessly stuck in a shaft somewhere. But that wouldn’t help. That’s nothing like Sam’s situation at all.

“Do you want to finish the, uh, documentary series?” he asks. They started that one a few nights ago. These past two, Sam shook his head no when Cas asked him, saying he was too tired. He’s about to do the same, but seems to think better of it.

“Yeah, sure.” They have three episodes left. They can get through at least one tonight.

Usually, Castiel lays on top of the bed, postured impeccably, while Sam slouches underneath the covers. This time, Sam holds up the sheets for longer than usual after he gets in, as an invitation. So. Castiel tucks his legs alongside Sam. The bed is a double — not exactly meant for two men’s size — so their physical closeness is pure happenstance. Sam’s head resting on his upper arm, as it is right now, is the most they ever touch.

“Play it,” Sam says. He gestures vaguely to the remote in Castiel’s hand.

The series exposes an unsolved string of murder, the botched investigation, and the cover-up around it. It’s quite harrowing. Castiel is always amazed at how Sam will relax by listening to the most gruesome stories. Often, he’ll fall asleep to episode collections of Forensic Files. Castiel will turn it off for him, once he’s out.

At the end of the episode, Sam is already almost asleep, his lids heavy .

“Sam, you should go to sleep,” Castiel tells him, prying him off his side.

Sam nods, yawns again. Castiel turns off the TV, then hands Sam the remote so he can put it on his side of the bed.

As he turns to lay back down, Sam stops for a moment, resting on his elbow, turned towards his friend. “Hey, Cas,” he murmurs. His eyes are quiet and waiting, in the dim light. “You know, uh. I really like it when you spend the night with me, you know that?”

Castiel doesn’t know that. Sam’s never said that, not in so many words. It’s just something they’ve been doing. It’s nice to have this time just for themselves, to do things that aren’t related to killing anyone.

“I like spending my nights here, too,” Castiel replies. He means it. “Do you want the light on or off?”

“On is fine, thanks. Night, Cas.”

“Alright.”

He usually says that, as a courtesy, if Castiel doesn’t keep watching TV after he’s gone to sleep. Cas can see just as well in the dark, after all  — he’s not constrained by the visible light spectrum.

Castiel picks up the book by his bedside. Sam lent it to him, after he said he was looking for a novel to read. It’s a quiet activity that passes the time at night, so he can stay beside Sam without bothering his sleep. Sam’s copy is the English version of the novel, translated from Kikuyu by the author himself. If he wanted to, Castiel could easily read the original. Human languages are all more or less one and the same, or so he’s observed for himself. He thinks about the myriad of dead languages Sam can decipher, and the countless living ones he’ll never understand. Maybe it’s about picking his battles. Kikuyu would come in handy less often than Latin or Aramaic in his line of work.

In any case. Castiel hasn’t considered seeking out the original in any serious way. He likes the idea of reading from Sam’s copy, dog-earing the pages along the same creases, seeing which passages he underlined.

Castiel leans back against the headboard. His foot rests somewhere along Sam’s shin.

This is a nice moment. He likes living it.

Almost unnoticeably, the world around Castiel dims.

A blip brings him back. He collects his presence. He checks on Sam sleeping beside him, and the weight of the room. It all feels odd — like he’s just an inch aside from himself.

Just now, Castiel felt as though he was falling backwards, although his body remained upright, solid. Like he was caught over the eyes by shadowy hands and yanked backwards, speeding through sludge, caving into the outline of himself. It reminded him of when he was human, and hadn’t eaten enough.

He’s not human, however. His body can’t get weak from skipping meals. He has no use for food.

To his right, Sam is already asleep. His pretty head is turned towards Castiel, his hair spread on the pillow. Castiel will have to be more careful. Every time, the dimness lasts longer, becomes darker.

Castiel stares at the pages in his hands. “Good night, Sam,” he says.

[ibijau]

chap 2 of the modern xisangyao, also on AO3

Against his better judgement, Meng Yao finds himself quite charmed by the too handsome researcher who wants to meet his employer

Mister Shanzi will be unhappy when he discovers that Meng Yao has agreed to meet with a researcher without first consulting him, but he is simply too curious. It is so odd for anyone to be so interested in that obscure painter, and so desperate to see more of his work. Of course, Mister Shanzi himself holds a clear interest in Nie Huaisang, one that he has unwillingly transmitted to Meng Yao… But mister Shanzi is an odd man, and ordinary people cannot be compared to him. 

For this reason, Meng Yao's first instinct upon being contacted by Lan Xichen had been suspicion. Mister Shanzi has his enemies, as Meng Yao knows well, and they try to act clever sometimes. 

His second instinct, after a quick internet search, had been amusement. Surely nobody expected him to believe that this man, handsome enough to play the lead in a drama, was a mere university teacher. 

A more thorough search had confirmed it though. Meng Yao knew enough about running a con to spot modified photos and fake credentials, and he had found none of that. Digging further, Lan Xichen appeared in the background of photos and was referenced here and there on relatives' social media, with no incoherence to the presentation he'd given in his email. 

So Meng Yao had found himself intrigued, and offered to meet and chat. 

A decision he half regrets now, because somehow, Lan Xichen is even more handsome in person. He is, in fact, the single most beautiful person that Meng Yao has seen in his life, easily outranking mister Shanzi who had reigned there supreme since the day Meng Yao met him during a con gone wrong. 

"I am so glad you offered to meet me," Lan Xichen says with a warm smile. "I am really sorry that I was so insistent, but it is so rare for several of Nie Huaisang’s works to be in a single place."

“I understand,” Meng Yao replies, trying to match the warmth of that smile when he can’t help being a little dazzled by that handsome stranger. “Though at the moment, my employer is a little wary of showing any of those paintings in his possession until he has inspected them all again. It is very embarrassing that several fakes fooled him, and mister Shanzi wants to restore his reputation. He is still getting used to modern technology, and how much it has changed the art market in recent decades.”

Mostly, mister Shanzi complains a lot on the matter, and keeps saying he’s going to have to change career soon. Apparently, back in the days, it was much easier to sell a decent fake as long as you also sold enough real things. But now with age testing of the paper and analysis of the ink, it’s nearly impossible to do a good enough job.

Of course mister Shanzi could quite easily make as much money only selling legitimate art, he has the connections, the collection, and impeccable taste. So Meng Yao suspects it’s not just about money, and more about the twisted joy of deceiving others. He can't fault him for that.

“Yes, that makes sense,” Lan Xichen sighs. “I was fooled as well, so I understand the feeling. It’s so disappointing, but not unexpected. Nie Huaisang attracts forgers like no other artists.”

Meng Yao nods sympathetically. He’s heard mister Shanzi boast that well over half of Nie Huaisang’s paintings in circulation are copies he made himself, and perfectly undetectable unless one runs those ‘damn new tests’ on them.

“If I may be so bold, why the interest in that particular painter?” Meng Yao asks. “Surely you could have found someone less complicated to study.”

Rather than to answer immediately, Lan Xichen considers the question. He takes a sip of tea with more elegance than this café deserves, and Meng Yao is struck once more with the idea that this man should be acting in drama, not writing essays nobody will ever read. It’s easy to imagine Lan Xichen playing the role of a noble prince, or even a god. 

“He’s just a fascinating character I suppose,” Lan Xichen says at last. “Outside of his art, we know so little about him. We don’t even know his real name.”

“What?”

Lan Xichen smiles, clearly very pleased to have gotten that reaction.

“He wasn’t born Nie Huaisang,” he explains. “That’s only his courtesy name. You see, he belonged to that… well, they called themselves a sect, though at the end of the day they were closer to nobility, with the same inheritance problems and power struggles. Still, Qinghe Nie held a number of beliefs, and one of them was that the birth name of its members had to be kept a complete secret… and Nie Huaisang is among those who succeeded at obeying that rule. So we don’t know his name, we don’t know his date of birth, and we don’t know how he died or when.”

“Is there anything that is known about him?” Meng Yao teases, more endeared and intrigued than he would care to admit.

Lan Xichen must notice, because he smiles again, as if delighted to have found someone willing to listen to his impromptu lecture.

“We know he was raised by his brother because their father died when they were young,” Lan Xichen says. “Well, half-brother. Nie Huaisang was the child of a concubine, or even of a servant. His father recognised him, but his legitimacy was called in question a few times. We know he survived a local insurrection nicknamed the Sunshot Campaign, though it’s unclear if he was old enough to have taken part in any fighting. His brother did though, with great success, but died without heirs a few years later and Nie Huaisang found himself in charge of a fief.”

He pauses there, his expression turning sadder, as if he were talking of a personal friend rather than a long dead man. Meng Yao finds it ridiculous and a little endearing.

“A few anecdotes from the lives of contemporaries tell us that he must have had a rough time at first,” Lan Xichen continues, “and he was suspected for a while of being implicated in the murder of the head of the Jin clan, but nothing ever came out of that. He’s just thirty at that point, still fairly young, and he lives on for another fifty, maybe sixty years… and we don’t know anything about what he does during that time. Nobody really talks about Qinghe Nie again until his successor rises to power and brings the clan back into the political sphere. Nie Huaisang’s life is a mystery. What little we think we know comes from the few poems he left, and whatever clues we can gather from his numerous paintings. Isn’t that fascinating?”

What’s fascinating, Meng Yao thinks, is the way Lan Xichen’s eyes light up when talking about something he’s passionate about. If it’s an act, then it’s an excellent one… but Meng Yao finds himself hoping that it’s sincere, that Lan Xichen really is just an odd man who is apparently half in love with a painter who died a millennium and a half ago.

There is no way that mister Shanzi would ever let anyone see his private collection. Even Meng Yao is barely allowed to go to his employer’s house, to avoid attracting attention to the place. Lan Xichen’s request is never going to be granted.

But it has been a long while since Meng Yao has been so intrigued by someone, not since first meeting mister Shanzi in fact. And mister Shanzi, in spite of the mutual attraction that Meng Yao knows to be there, has made it quite clear that he isn’t interested in anything but a professional relationship. Meng Yao has satisfied himself with that so far, because his life really is pretty good as it currently is, but Lan Xichen changes that. Surely there’s no harm in pretending that there’s a chance he might get to see the painting, at least until Meng Yao can decide if that too handsome man is trustworthy or not, dateworthy or not…

“It does sound interesting,” Meng Yao admits. “I’m sure mister Shanzi would…”

His phone starts vibrating, interrupting him. Meng Yao can’t help a slight frown, which turns to a deeper one when he sees the message he’s just received.

“Well, I have to go,” he sighs. “I’m really sorry. But… mister Lan, if I may be so bold, would you agree to exchanging numbers? That way we can continue talking about this more easily.”

“Yes, of course,” Lan Xichen replies. There is a trace of pink on his cheeks as he takes out his own phone, which Meng Yao finds both very fetching and rather encouraging.

He’ll have to be careful, this could be a trap, Lan Xichen might be an excellent actor, part of a team skilled enough to have fooled Meng Yao, but… but he might not be, too, and it would be a shame to miss this chance.

After having exchanged numbers and promised to be in touch soon, Meng Yao quickly heads home. He lives on the edges of the city, in a building that already looked ancient when he was a kid. Today’s a good day, because the lift is, in fact, actually working for once.

Upon getting to his floor, Meng Yao goes to knock on the door next to his. It opens nearly immediately.

“Meng Yao, you’re saving my life,” the young woman who lives there greets him. “I’m really sorry, I’ve tried everyone else, but I’ve been called in for an extra shift and I need the money so bad, I’ve had to buy her new shoes this month, and…”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind at all.”

His neighbour thanks him again, and rushes inside. She’s back quickly, her daughter in her arms. The child nearly throws herself at Meng Yao, and her mother runs off to work, leaving them alone.

“Well, Beastie, it’s just you and me,” Meng Yao says, walking to his door. “What are we going to do tonight?”

“Watch fighting movies! Eat candies!”

“And what will we tell mama we did?”

“Watch documentaries and eat greens and I went to bed and I was good!” The little girl roars.

Meng Yao laughs, and puts her down while he unlocks his door. Beastie runs inside to check the tv, while Meng Yao makes sure they actually have something to eat. He tries to keep his fridge full and his cabinet fuller, especially since Beastie has become a regular at his place. Her mother is a hard working girl who, like Meng Yao’s mother, got pregnant too young from a man who didn’t stick around. He used to babysit Beastie for extra cash before meeting mister Shanzi, and for some reason he never really stopped, even if he refuses to take money for it now. He just likes Beastie and her mom, and he remembers how much his own mother used to rely on neighbours too, whenever things became rough.

As Beastie and him settle down for the night, ready to watch one of those cheesy, over the top old kung-fu movies that they both love, Meng Yao gets a text from Lan Xichen, thanking him again for meeting him. After only the briefest of hesitations, Meng Yao quickly answers that he’s sorry he had to leave so fast, because he loved chatting with Lan Xichen. This prompts another text from the handsome teacher, to which Meng Yao replies as well.

His phone doesn’t stop buzzing all nigh, and Meng Yao doesn't stop smiling. 

-

In the days and weeks that follow, Meng Yao and Lan Xichen manage to meet in person a few more times, and text nearly constantly. At their second meeting they’re still pretending that this is only about Lan Xichen’s research, but by the third one they start openly chatting about other things.

Lan Xichen is very open about his life, and everything he says fits with what Meng Yao had found during his initial investigation. He has a little brother nearly fifteen years younger than him who lives with him, he enjoys teaching and researching equally, he has a pet rabbit called Liebing he dotes on, he can’t handle spice at all, he has, in fact, been asked more than once if he was interested in a modelling or acting career but always refused because academia is his calling.

Meng Yao is more careful with the information he shares. He admits to having worked for mister Shanzi for nearly five years, but doesn’t elaborate on how they meet because that's not a story for honest people. He confesses he didn’t have any particular interest in art until taking the job, though he has tried to educate himself on the subject since then (Lan Xichen offers to go to a museum together someday, and to his own surprise, Meng Yao agrees). He doesn’t have pets, but he does have Beastie and he’s pretty sure that counts.

The way Lan Xichen’s eyes go soft over that… it does things to Meng Yao’s poor heart.

As does almost everything Lan Xichen does or says, in fact.

Meng Yao is half appalled at himself for how fast he’s falling for Lan Xichen. He tries to resist it, tries to be reasonable, but Lan Xichen just has to smile the right way, and Meng Yao’s heart flutters in his chest. He feels like a teenager with a crush.

He starts thinking like one, too.

Ever since meeting mister Shanzi, Meng Yao has been loyal to his employer. There is something about the man that demands it, and though he has never made threats of any sorts, Meng Yao can feel that mister Shanzi is not a man who takes kindly to betrayal.

And yet, it would be so easy to arrange for Lan Xichen to come to mister Shanzi’s home without his knowledge. Meng Yao is in charge of his employer’s schedule, so he knows where he is at any given time. He also has the keys to that isolated house in the middle of nowhere. It would be so easy, and Meng Yao has never been too good at resisting temptation.

At this point, he knows that if he tells Lan Xichen he won't see the paintings, the other man will be disappointed but will ask if they can keep seeing each other anyway. This isn't about finding a way to keep his attention: Meng Yao knows he has it already. 

It's about Meng Yao guessing how happy Lan Xichen will be to see those paintings, and deciding surely that's worth the risk. 

That’s how Meng Yao and Lan Xichen find themselves in a car one day, heading out of the city together. Meng Yao feels his skin buzzing with nerves, though every time he takes his eyes from the road to glance at Lan Xichen and finds him glowing and as excited as a child, he knows it was the right choice. It takes them a few hours to get to the house, which they spend chatting about a number of things. About midway through the trip, when they take a break, Meng Yao announces that due to a last minute problem, mister Shanzi won’t be able to meet them at the house, but welcomes them to check the paintings without him. Lan Xichen is of course disappointed and offers to try again another time, but Meng Yao convinces him it’s more convenient to go that day.

The house, hidden in a bamboo forest, takes Lan Xichen’s breath away when he discovers it, just as it did for Meng Yao the first time. It’s not particularly big or extravagant, but there’s something about it that makes Meng Yao’s heart ache every time he sees it, as if he’s known it before. It’s ridiculous, of course. He’d never really left the city before starting to work for mister Shanzi.

“It looks like home,” Lan Xichen whispers as he exits the car.

“Does your family have a place like that?”

Lan Xichen frowns, and shakes his head. “No, not at all. But it still feels like home. I can’t explain why… Ah, don’t mind me. Let’s just go inside.”

Meng Yao hides a smile and goes to open the door. In truth, he’d like to get this over with as quickly as possible. Mister Shanzi has no reason to be back from his trip until tomorrow, but Meng Yao won’t feel safe until they’ve left. It really is stupid to have come here at all, and even Lan Xichen’s happiness is starting to not feel worth the risk.

The house is quiet when they go in, and a little cold, making them shiver. It’s always fresh in there, which Meng Yao assumes is why mister Shanzi has taken to calling his home the Hanshi. 

“It’s not a very welcoming name for a home,” Lan Xichen says as he looks around, sounding a little distracted.

“It’s not much of a home anyway. He doesn’t live here most of the time,” Meng Yao explains as they head for the kitchen. “It has his private collection, a few personal belongings, and that’s it. He prefers to stay with friends or at hotels if he can. Check the fridge and you’ll see how bad it is.”

While Meng Yao pours himself a glass of water, Lan Xichen does check the fridge, and finds it predictably empty except for some forgotten leftovers. Sometimes, Meng Yao suspects that mister Shanzi doesn’t eat at all unless he has company.

After taking a moment to rest from the long trip, Meng Yao takes Lan Xichen toward the workshop in the basement, where he knows his employer usually keeps the best parts of his collection, fake and authentic paintings carefully divided according to a system he taught to Meng Yao.

It really feels more and more like a betrayal to be doing this, but Lan Xichen is glowing, and mister Shanzi will never know.

Meng Yao starts opening the door.

His blood turns to ice when he realises that there’s light inside the room.

He thinks, for a second, to stop and run away while he can, but it’s too late already. Lan Xichen would ask questions, and he wouldn’t like the answers. It could save him from also dealing with mister Shanzi’s fury at least, but even that won’t be afforded to him. When Meng Yao peaks inside, mister Shanzi’s swivel chair is turning toward the door, with mister Shanzi sitting crossed leg in it and looking curiously at the intruders.

It is painfully obvious that mister Shanzi isn’t expecting visitors. Instead of the polished outfits he favours in public, he’s wearing a pair of novelty boxers with emoji on them, and a hoodie two sizes too big with ink stains on the sleeves. His long hair isn’t in a neat braid, but in a messy bun held in place by some cheap chopsticks. In short, mister Shanzi doesn’t look like the refined young man he endeavours to be when he has to show his face somewhere, and more like a college student who has forgotten the taste of any food except instant noodle and energy drinks.

That impression is only made worse by the headphones he’s now lowering, and the game console on his lap. They must have caught him taking a break.

“Meng Yao, why are you…” mister Shanzi starts asking, unfolding his legs so he can stand up, only to interrupt himself when his gaze falls on Lan Xichen.

His hands start shaking, badly enough that his console falls from his grip and onto the floor, its screen cracking upon impact.

“You!” mister Shanzi gasps, eyes wide with terror.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, serenelystrange!

For @serenelystrange. Hope this was the right balance for your prompt and that it had just the right amount of Christmas Fluff, Merry Christmas :)

Read On AO3

*****

Make you Mine this season

The flight to Melbourne was a long one and not for the first time Stiles was cursing the fact that Lydia had refused to use at least some of the cash from their Patreon to upgrade from cattle class to at least business class so he could try and sleep out the jet lag. He had heard of more than enough podcasters that would use their Patreon money for more non-essentials than that but since her email address was on the account it seemed to make her the boss where the finances were concerned.

Of course being on a non-stop Seventeen hour flight with a minor stop over in Sydney was something that he appreciated but he wasn’t sure that his back would thank him for the small seat he was in which was crushed up against the window as he had stupidly taken the window seat instead of the middle.

He cast a glance at Lydia whose nose was deep into a book on Australian serial killers which was part of her research for one of their three Australian based episodes while they were staying in the country. Usually he would be right there with her, trying to decide on which was the most gruesome and which had the most information to warrant an hour long episode but since their wake up call had been ridiculously early leaving him packing his books in his suitcase instead of his carry on he was instead trying to find a documentary of interest on the inflight entertainment system which was to do with true crime instead of the life and times of a retired sports star that he didn’t really care about.

Though against his will he did seem to find himself letting the documentary play, his gaze out the window instead of on the screen as the documentary played though his earphones, letting his thoughts wander to the person that he always seemed to find himself thinking of when stuck on a plane for hours on end with nothing else to do.

While his and Lydia’s podcast focused on all the ins and outs of true crime, from the historic to cults to everything in between, his best friend Derek’s was focused not just on the history of sports but the most up to date sports news. It was something that Stiles didn’t really get having not exactly been into sports since he had spent most of his time on the lacrosse team at high school on the bench no matter how hard he had tried. Though his oldest friend Scott had tried numerous times unsuccessfully to actually get him on the team there was no denying that it was a lost cause leaving him with a kind of hatred for sports which had seen his interests instead settle on the academic which had swiftly moved to True crime after going down a Youtube hole of True Crime documentaries on Ted Bundy late one night in his last year at school. It had been the beginning of an obsession that had concerned his father as though he was sure that would consume Stiles to practise what he learned which there was no likelihood of happening, despite him being the town sheriff who’d let Stiles read the files he brought home since he was in middle school.

Of course, that hatred of sports had faded when he first met Derek.

It had been his and Lydia’s first podcast festival in LA, and Stiles who had had an overwhelming case of stage fright before he even got on stage, had been sitting on the side as Lydia talked with their management about a Plan B in case Stiles did something embarrassing out of nerves. That was when Derek came and sat beside him.

Even at that moment Stiles had known Derek was handsome in a way that he had long since considered his type. Tall and muscular with a slender waist and his biceps making it obvious that at some point or another he had been a jock, yet it had been his face which had Stiles’ heart pounding his chest. The perfectly chiselled cheek bones, the alluring green eyes and stubble that seemed to enhance his lips and make Stiles unable to look away.

Derek seemed to feel Stiles staring at him from where he was looking over his notes for his panel and looked up with a frown.

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No….no sorry. I am just a little nervous. I’ve never done a panel before and I’m scared I’m going to do something wrong.” Stiles said offering him a weak smile that immediately had Derek’s frown melting into an understanding smile.

“I promise the first one is always the hardest but once it’s done, you’ll wonder what you were so worried about. Just think of it this way, everyone out there has paid to see you because they obviously like what your podcast is about and no matter what happens they won’t hold it against you. You just need to relax.” Derek assured him.

“You aren’t going to tell me to picture them naked are you?" Stiles asked, watching Derek laugh that seemed to make his face even more irresistible to Stiles’ fledgling crush in the making.

“God no. My first manager tried to tell me that with my first one and it only made it worse. No just pretend that a friend is stood at the very back and you are talking to only them. It helps you to focus on what you are saying instead of trying to be someone that you’re not for the sake of the panel.” Derek said, rolling up his notes between his hands.

“Ok, but I don’t really have any friends here and the only person I know is the one I’ll be at the panel with. It makes it kind of hard to focus on that.” Stiles said watching Derek tilt his head in understanding.

“Ok well how about this, I could stand at the back if you think it would help.” Derek suggested.

“Only if you tell me your name.” Stiles said, watching the other roll his eyes like Stiles had just used a bad chat up line on him.

“it’s Derek, Derek Hale. Yours?” Derek asked.

“Stiles, Stiles Stilinski. And before you say anything yes, I know how bad it is.” Stiles said, earning a grin from Derek.

“Good to meet you, Stiles….” Derek smiled, though he was interrupted by a tall blond woman who stood between the two so Derek would fixate only on her.

“Derek, honey you’re on next. They’ve managed to sort out the issue with the projector and the PA so I’ve given them the USB with the PowerPoint.” She smiled, her fingertips caressing Derek’s neck though from what Stiles could see Derek hadn’t exactly been happy at her interrupting them but before he could say a word a member of staff had appeared and was herding Derek on stage leaving Stiles staring after him even after he was gone and Lydia had come back.

“So, I’ve spoken to Aiden and he’s agreed to cut the panel short if you go off topic….” Lydia said, though she paused when she realised wasn’t paying her attention. “Hey, Stiles!”

“Yeah yeah sorry. I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” Stiles said, letting his attention move to the copy of the script Lydia had already prepared for them.

Once he got on the stage and spotted Derek standing at the back against the wall of the hall, his nerves had disappeared, and it had been as easy as breathing. Almost as though he and Lydia were back in their apartment just recording a regular episode.

Once the panel was over, he had looked for Derek in the crowd of other podcasters hanging around but not been able to catch sight of him.

It wasn’t until the afterparty that he spotted him, drunk off his face and making out with the blonde woman from before up against the wall outside of the toilets. It had made something in his stomach squirm with jealousy and left him returning to the bar himself hoping that if he drunk enough, he could erase the vision from his memory.

He had tried to tell himself that there was little if any chance of him and Derek being together anyway, that they were probably better off as acquaintances that saw each other once in a blue moon at cons and festivals. But that seemed to fade when the week after the festival their podcast Talk Murder to me social media accounts received requests from Derek’s podcast accounts called The final countdown with Derek.

It then seemed to grow with Derek himself following Stiles’ own accounts, leaving comments on pictures and retweeting tweets they released when a new episode was out. A fledgling kind of friendship grew there, and though Stiles tried not to obsessive over it when he saw more and more pictures of the blonde woman called Kate on Derek’s Instagram page, with the two of them doing all the couple pictures it had that feeling from before returning twice as much every time.

Stiles even made himself listen to Derek’s podcast just to hear the sound of the other’s voice, to hear him using laymen's terms instead of all the complicated technical terms that others not interested in the sport would not understand. To hear him laughing with the odd guest he brought on which all seemed to be related to Derek’s own sports past from baseball to basketball to football it was like Derek had done everything and made Stiles even more sure that the other would never feel the same way.

It wasn’t until the DCon a few months later that they met up again and it had been like they had never parted as they had drinks at the bar the first night. As Stiles asked Derek about the episodes he’d listened to of Derek’s podcast and Derek asked Stiles what had got him into True crime and why all the murderers they chose seemed to be well-known instead of the lesser known.

And with that their friendship just continued to grow, through Derek’s break up with Kate who had cheated on him with one of his guests and saw all pictures of her deleted from his Instagram in the space of a week after Stiles skyped him to check he was ok, to Stiles moving from California to Chicago on a scholarship leaving him meeting Derek in New York every weekend to show him all the best places as he got settled in.

It all just seemed so normal, but Stiles would be lying if he said his crush had not continue to grow on the other which always seemed worse after Skyping Derek when he had come back from the gym and was always shirtless revealing a body that Stiles daydreamed about constantly. Something he confided in Lydia about one night when Derek had dropped him off after a bar crawl through the western village. To her credit though Lydia wasn’t surprised in the slightest but had told him to be careful about getting in too deep when it was painfully clear how straight Derek was and that it would only ever end in heartbreak.

Stiles tried to keep that in mind, really, he did, especially when Derek started dating a cheerleader called Jennifer from the New York Jets. How yet again the jealousy would set in and leave him ghosting Derek online for a few days as he tried to work through the reality that him and Derek could never be anything more. Thankfully it was around the time his scholarship finished and he managed to leave town at the same time Derek took Jenifer to the Hamptons for a long weekend so he didn’t have to answer any awkward questions.

He moved in with Lydia and their new manager/her new boyfriend Jordan in LA, which was awkward too but he didn’t really want to move back to Beacon hills if he could get away with it. And since they lived together it made the production of their episodes all the smoother as they were able to plan things weeks in advance.

Of course, that all came to a head when they attended the Vancouver podcast festival before starting the long tour through Europe for live panels. Stiles had kept his distance from Derek this time, staying with the true crime crowd when at the venue as he finally met people he had only been speaking to online from other podcasts. It had been surprisingly easy to just forget that Derek was even there as the convention was the biggest one in Canada and everyone there just stuck with their own genre.

But then the after party came and Stiles had been drinking at the bar alone to give Jordan and Lydia the time alone that they needed. That was the downside to being the third wheel in both the business and the apartment. He tried not to let it get to him, as there was little if any chance of him seeing himself with anyone that wasn’t Derek. That night he was at least going to try with Theo the producer from a podcast on criminology, the other buying him just enough drinks to have him buzzed and kissing him up against the edge of the bar hard enough that Stiles could at least pretend for a moment that it was Derek.

As the other’s mouth detoured to kissing Stiles’ neck hard enough to leave very visible bruises and the alcohol making Stiles’ inhibitions so low that if Theo had asked he would have easily gone to a room or hell even a cubicle in the mens bathroom. But that illusion had been interrupted by the sound of Derek saying his name from the other end of the bar just as Theo’s fingers were unzipping his fly.

“Um, Derek?" Stiles murmured, his back still arching against the bar edge and the thrum of arousal flowing through his veins when Theo’s fingers curled around his cock through his boxers.

“Stiles, what are you doing?” Derek asked, appearing beside them looking furious as though he was sure Theo was taking advantage of him.

“Getting a hand job what does it look like?" Stiles sighed, Theo mouthing at his neck in an attempt to keep him fixated on what they were doing causing Stiles to curse and push one hand into Theo’s back pocket to pull him closer into his personal space.

“Come on Stiles, you’re drunk let’s get you up to your room so you can sleep it off.” Derek said, Stiles groaning as he felt the impending orgasm just on the brink of Theo jerking him off a few more times.

“Or…. you could come to my room Stiles. Just you, me, a bed, your clothes on the floor and a good thorough fucking. What do you say?” Theo crooned softly into Stiles’ ear, his pace around Stiles’ cock picking up.

“Oh god yeah…” Stiles groaned, curling his free hand in Theo’s hair, and pulling his lips from his neck to meet his own just as the orgasm crashed over him.

“Stiles, this is a bad idea.” Derek tried as Stiles’ mouth opened willingly to Theo’s tongue while the other tried to hold him up against the edge of the bar while zipping his fly.

“I think that’s up to Stiles, don’t you? Still keen Stiles?" Theo snarked at Derek, before turning his attention back to Stiles who was downing the last of his tequila shot to leave.

“Um, yeah but you’ll have to make sure I don’t fall on the way to the lift….” Stiles sighed, Theo’s arm curling around his waist and easing him from against the side of the bar before leading the way out the bar towards his room.

After that night Derek didn’t speak to him, which was just as well for Stiles as the less time they spoke the more he could focus on easing back on his crush. It helped a little that Theo was pulled along on their tour through Europe but it soon became clear to Theo that Stiles was hung up on someone else and just using him for the relief he couldn’t get otherwise. Once the European tour was over Theo returned to the states while they continued to the Japanese podcast festival in Tokyo, leaving Stiles the third wheel yet again and wishing more than anything that Derek would contact him.

It took a couple of months in the run up to the Webby Awards for them to start talking again, Derek having long since broken things off with Jennifer though when Stiles asked why Derek got an indiscernible look on his face and said something about how she was always touring with the players meaning little time for them to be together although to Stiles it didn’t seem complete true but he didn’t push as they still hadn’t completely rebuilt their bridges. That year they had both gotten nominated for Webbys and since the awards were in New York Derek seemed determined that they spent as much time together as possible. Something which Stiles knew was going to cause his crush to flare up again but there was nothing he could really do to stop it.

Everytime he and Derek went out with Lydia and Jordan his co-presenter would flash him that look that told him to be careful but that she felt sorry for him being in this position with Derek again. But Stiles tried not to think of that, to not focus on the fact his heart was probably going to break again when Derek started seeing someone else and instead on actually getting to spend time together with a friend he hasn’t seen in months.

Being at the award show together was something Stiles knew he would never forget as he watched Derek get the Webby award for best sports podcast while he and Lydia jointly received the Webby People’s voice award in comedic podcasts. It was a big night and yet when it came to the after-party Stiles found himself yet again sat alone at the bar watching all the other winners and participants mingling among themselves and celebrating. Lydia and Jordan had left early with the trophy to make up for lost time in their hotel room leaving Stiles wondering where Derek was as he reached for the tequila.

Derek finally appeared from a crowd of fashion vloggers that had taken a fancy to him at the ceremony not that Stiles could blame them, but instead he made his way to the bar and took a seat beside Stiles. It didn’t escape Stiles’ notice that they were back in the same situation they had been when they stopped talking before but at least this time there was no-one else making a move on the other though Stiles was sure at least one of the fashion vloggers would try again after a few more drinks.

“Big night huh?" Stiles smiled, toasting Derek with his glass at the other ordered beer from the bartender.

“Yeah, I guess it has been, though I never thought I would find myself getting a Webby for a podcast. It seems a bit surreal.” Derek said, setting his trophy on the bar and looking at it as though he was sure it would disappear if he didn’t.

“Same here, I mean for me and Lydia it was just a hobby to put out there to begin with and now we have thousands of fans willing to pay through Patreon to support us financially. Although to be fair now I can’t exactly imagine myself doing anything else.” Stiles said downing his shot and ordering another.

“Yeah, I mean it gives me a sense of achievement that I never managed to completely reach when I was a sports star, you’re always trying to reach for the next trophy or the next record you know? At least with this I know I’m doing something that people enjoy that was initially just for me. Though sometimes I do wonder…” Derek said, wistfully looking at Stiles he got his next shot.

“About what?” Stiles asked, squeezing the lime juice into the shot.

“There’s been a few podcasts that have gone on to create their own network to help other people with putting their podcasts out there. I think I’d like to do something like that…I just wouldn’t know where to start.” Derek said thoughtfully downing a mouthful of his beer.

“I suppose that would be amazing to do, but honestly me and Lydia struggle enough to so much as keep our own going now. Even with the odd producer on tap and Jordan as management I’m not sure we would be able to keep something like that a float. Still if that is something you think you would like to do you can always send feelers out to other podcasts in your genre and see if they would be interested in combining your resources to make something like that happen.” Stiles shrugged, toying with the empty lime.

“Yeah I’ll have to give it some more thought.” Derek agreed downing the rest of his beer and making like he was about to get up when Stiles rested a hand on his arm.

“Where are you going? The night’s still young and besides, we’re celebrating!” Stiles grinned causing Derek to sigh but sit back down and order them each some more shots as Stiles downed his second in one.

They spent most of the night into the early hours downing shots and coming up with ludicrous ideas for podcast network names as well coming up with new episode ideas for the other’s podcast. They were still there as the staff started coming around to clear up and herd the remaining occupants to the door which seemed to contain quite a few fashions vloggers stumbling in their high heels like they had been waiting for Derek to leave the bar before giving Derek a come on. But Derek seemed more fixated on Stiles coming to crash at his as it was closer to the venue and would mean he didn’t have to worry about getting an uber or waking Lydia.

In the back of Stiles’ mind alarm bells started ringing, but he still agreed letting Derek’s arm curl around his waist as they walked down the sidewalk to make sure he didn’t stumble and fall into the gutter. But that little touch had a spark reigniting the previously dormant crush deep in Stiles’ mind. He tried to silence it by listening to Derek rambling on about an idea for a podcast that was solely on different mythologies around the world and why they were so different.

Derek seemed to have planned at least the first ten episodes by the time they go to his apartment building, though he nearly dropped his webby when trying to find his keys leaving him to hand it to Stiles for safe keeping while he found it in his wallet. Stiles followed his lead into the building, using the webby in his hand to try and ground him before he did something he regretted though when they got in the lift it seemed like whatever restraint he had left disappeared when the doors closed behind them.

Derek was still rambling about an episode involving Polynesian mythology compared with the Caribbean when Stiles pushed himself away uneasily from the wall and approached where Derek was leaning in a corner to keep his balance, letting his fingertips graze Derek’s cleanshaven cheek when he crowded into his personal space.

“Stiles….” Derek sighed at the touch; his eyes flickering closed as though it had been so long since someone had so much as touched him that it broke Stiles’ heart.

Before he could stop himself, he was leaning in and kissing Derek deeply.

He froze once the kiss was finished expecting Derek to shove him off and ask him what the hell but instead Derek’s fingers curled in his hair while his other arm curled around Stiles’ neck to bring him closer when he kissed him back. It was a deeper kiss, tainted by the taste of tequila and lime but to Stiles it was perfect because it was Derek’s tongue in his mouth, Derek’s hand sliding down his back to palm at his ass and Derek’s hot body pressed up against his torso.

“Um god Der….” He murmured as the other deepened the kiss even more sliding his hand up the back of Stiles’ dress shirt to brush against his bare back, the touch feeling like an electric current flowing through his very veins.

At some point Derek took control, backing Stiles’ body up against the opposite wall so his back pushed against the emergency stop button. Derek’s lips detouring from Stiles’ lips to his neck once his collar buttons were ripped open despite the murmur of objection from Stiles’ lips at being deprived of Derek’s tongue in his mouth. He soon found all his shirt buttons open and Derek’s mouth moving to colour his bare chest with bruises that Stiles never wanted to disappear.

But soon Stiles’ legs were curled around Derek’s waist, his lower back pushing the emergency button again to restart the lift though neither of the couple were too interested until the doors opened on the right floor.

“Fuck Stiles…. I want you so bad….” Derek murmured into his neck as he curled his arms around Stiles’ body to keep him balanced as he carried Stiles out the lift into the corridor.

Through some miracle and after making out against the wall beside Derek’s front door for quite a while they had managed to get inside the apartment.

The rest had been a blur.

Swallowing heavily on the plane to Melbourne Stiles rubbed away the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes as he stared at the darkening sky while Michael Jordan rambled away about the highlights of his career in one ear as the inside of the plane powered down for the night. Lydia had put her book on the seat between them and was curled up with the thin inflight blanket over her and her sleeping mask on since she had flown with him enough times to know Stiles’ insomnia would probably keep him awake long enough that he would start reading.

The morning after that glorious night continued to haunt him horribly even months later. Of waking up in Derek’s bed to no sign of the object of his affections beside him let alone in any other part of the apartment. Of finding a note held up against the Webby trophy on his nightstand that made it clear that as far as he was concerned nothing had happened and they should just forget it. Of that sinking feeling in his chest as his heart slipped into his stomach and he had gathered all his clothes before leaving the apartment to return to his and Lydia’s hotel room.

How Jordan had made a crack at breakfast of him getting lucky only for Lydia to nudge her boyfriend and shake her head as though she knew exactly what had happened and that Stiles didn’t need the teasing. Stiles had spent the rest of their stay after breakfast holed up in their hotel room while Lydia and Jordan did all the touristy bits without him and without Derek.

Stiles did try and text Derek a few times, asking him to at least call so they could work this out. That it did not have to change anything unless he let it. But he got no reply and even when Lydia and Jordan came back the redhead hadn’t manged to get through to him either.

Stiles had even gone round to Derek’s the morning before he was due to fly back to LA, he managed to persuade a fellow resident to let him in and made it to the right floor. He’d knocked on Derek’s door until his knuckles were bruised but even though he could hear ESPN playing a basketball match Derek didn’t come to the door. He’d left a note pushed under the door as well as sent him one last text while the plane was taxiing but had heard nothing since.

That had been close to nine months ago and every Podcast Festival or Convention since he would look for Derek in the crowd just to see if he was there. But it seemed like he was only going to ones specific to sport leaving Stiles hopelessly texting and tweeting him over and over asking about the next one he would go to on the off-chance that they could bump into each. And though it was a constant torment he did keep following Derek’s social media, seeing pictures of the owner of his heart walking along beaches shirtless, of seeing him in studios with guests and having family picnics with his sisters when they were in town. The only thing he noted was that there were no pictures of a new woman in his life and each time a fan would comment and ask, Derek seemed to either delete the comment or just straight up ignore it.

That at least did seem to reassure Stiles that what had happened between them had meant something to Derek. He just wished he could at least talk to him so he could find out what.

That had all changed three months before the run up to OZPod, when Lydia was doing some final research on a killer cult in Japan for the last episode in that series they were going to record and called out to Stiles who was trying unsuccessfully to post the second part of the series on the music publishing site.

“What is it Lyds, I’m struggling to upload the most recent episode and would prefer to get it out before the end of the day.” Stiles sighed, refreshing their music page just to check and see if it had finally been uploaded by coming up with nothing that had him returning to their portal to try again.

“Derek has just posted something on Instagram I think you should see.” Lydia said, causing Stiles to frown as he opened a fresh tab to open Derek’s Instagram page which had been saved into his favourites months ago.

The most recent picture showed a bi-pride flag draped over his webby trophy that immediately had Stiles’ heart jumping as he clicked on the picture to see the description that read.

‘DerekHale: I suppose this has been a long time coming considering how I know some of you have noticed that I’m not dating as much as I was before. So here is the long and the short of it on what is probably the best possible day to say this, I’m bisexual. I’ve been trying to ignore this side of myself for a long time by just dating who I thought was the best for me professionally, but honestly, I’ve been kidding myself for a very long time.

There’s a person out there, they know who they are, that I have used, hurt, and put our friendship on the backburner for because of how they made me feel. They made me question myself from the moment we first met, sat backstage at #lapodfest four years ago assuring them that everything was fine was the beginning of something beautiful. And though we’ve had many more downs than ups they mean the world to me.

And while I’m not sure if they will forgive me, if they will let me explain and make up the past nine months of silence to them, I just want them to know how much I have never stopped thinking about and wanting them even if I know that there is a chance they are already taken by someone else.

As for my LGBT fans out there, please believe me when I say I see you, no matter your gender, your pronouns or who you love, you are valid and I love you more than words can ever express.

Derek x

#bivisibilityday #loveislove #bipride #bipositivity #lgbtq #mlm #tfcwdPFam’

“What….?” Stiles murmured, unable to stop himself from reading Derek’s words over and over again as though part of him was sure this was a damned joke.

“Did you never for a moment think that might be why he was distancing himself from you? I could just see it in his face everytime he was around you that he was questioning himself because of you Stiles. While you never felt the real need to come out to anyone except me, Jordan and your dad….it’s harder for some people to get their head around….especially after sleeping with another guy for the first time ever.” Lydia said, from her own computer where she seemed to have taken over trying to upload the episode to give Stiles time to process what he had just read.

“No I didn’t because he was always with women, and I find it so damned to believe that someone like me could turn Derek’s head long enough for him to make him question his sexuality.” Stiles said, scrolling down to read the comments which were filled with admiration and reassurance that whoever he was talking about was so lucky to have Derek in their life. “Although what does he mean by ‘there is a chance he maybe with someone else’?”

“He probably means me.” Lydia sighed causing Stiles to turn in his chair to look at her.

“Wait, what?”

“I don’t know how or who it was, but someone seems to have convinced Derek that you and me are together and have been in all the time that we’ve been doing this podcast together.” Lydia said, meeting Stiles’ gaze over the top of her own computer.

“Oh no….nonono that’s insane! I love you like a sister…. I had a crush on you in high school that went away when you started seeing Jackson. And I mean you’re with Jordan for god’s sake!” Stiles cursed raking his fingers through his hair.

“Well obviously Derek didn’t get the memo. Anyway, if you think about it, it does explain a lot….” Lydia shrugged, attention back on her computer as Stiles turned back to staring at Derek’s post while more comments appeared from fans of Derek’s podcast.

Stiles bit his lip as he let all thoughts of him and Derek together fill his mind, of how Derek would always be touchy feely in his own discreet way when it was the two of them but move away from Stiles when Lydia was with them, how he would always insist that Stiles and Lydia sat together when they went out to eat or how Derek seemed to want to spend time alone with Stiles much more than with Lydia. How Derek had tried to pull Stiles away from Theo since he was under the misconception that Stiles was cheating on Lydia and how even during the Webby’ s show before the after party Derek had sat on the opposite side of the table to the pair. It was all blindingly obvious, that he couldn’t believe that he had missed it.

“Damnit Derek….” Stiles grumbled under his breath, barely restraining the urge to book the first flight to New York to shake some sense into Derek…sense he was sure would end up with the pair of them together again minus a stitch of clothing to the alluring breathy sounds of him fucking Derek hard enough to assure him without a shadow of a doubt that everything Derek felt for him was returned tenfold.

“He’s just sent out a tweet saying he’s going to Melbourne around Christmas for a podfest, I can get Jordan to see if we could be squeezed in if you want the chance to see him in person.” Lydia said, interrupting Stiles from his thoughts.

“That might be the best idea you’ve ever had. Now if you can get that episode to upload all with be right with the world for the next week.” Stiles said, his gaze back on Derek’s post even though deep inside he wasn’t sure he would be able to wait the three months until they were in the same place.

And yet now there he was, wide awake in a powered down plane half way through the flight, staring blankly at the screen showing Michael Jordan’s shot scenes in Space Jam as though that demonstrated just how great of an athlete he actually was.

He had wanted to contact Derek but knew until they were in the same place that there would be only words that could fix this without any action and yet it was the action that he knew they both desperately needed after how it had been since they were together in the same bed. Every night since he discovered Derek’s post he had gone back to it to see more comments of encouragement, more people claiming that whoever that person was they were sure that they missed him and were counting down the days to be back with Derek as well as a couple of people calling Stiles out for not contacting Derek for getting on to twelve months as though it was his fault. To those people Derek had kindly but firmly reiterated that it was his fault, that he had been the one to push that person away and avoided all contact from them and that while he appreciated their support if they posted those comments again they would be blocked.

And yet deep inside Stiles knew he should have tried harder to get Derek to listen to him, instead of giving in when Derek effectively cut him off. He could have camped inside his apartment until he came back, he could have used every social media outlet that they shared to keep contacting him, but he did have to admit that he knew for all his stubbornness that Derek still would have found some way or another keep him at arm’s length until he could figure things out.

Giving in at last when the narrator’s voice started to grate on his nerves, Stiles turned the documentary off and changed the channel to an easy listening radio station before picking up the book from the seat between them and settling in to start the next chapter on Paula Denyer, avoiding moving Lydia’s bookmark in the process since nothing annoyed her more.

The rest of the flight seemed to pass a lot quicker once he fell asleep halfway through reading the chapter on Ivan Milat and woke up to Lydia nudging him as their breakfast was being served by the air hostess. He ended up taking whatever one Lydia didn’t want since it all seemed to taste the same in the air anyway and downed two cups of coffee as he put his own bookmark in the form of his boarding pass to save his page before handing the book back to Lydia.

By then they were only half an hour away from Sydney and a further hour and a half from getting into Melbourne itself and Stiles settled down to watch a couple of episodes of Friends he had seen multiple times before to distract him for the remainder.

They soon arrived in Sydney to blinding sunshine through the windows and the pilot giving the usual welcome to Sydney with the weather forecast and time giving Stiles enough time to push what little he had removed from his carry on back in while removing his passport and next boarding pass for their connecting flight which thankfully gave them long enough to grab a decent coffee in duty free once they passed through security before needing to go to their next gate. Thankfully, their seats were close enough to the main entrance that it made it easy for them disembark first.

They made it through security quickly once they were in the domestic terminal and then join the queue in Starbucks, Lydia pulling out a twenty Australian dollar note from her purse while Stiles let his gaze linger on the menu trying to decide what he felt like. He finally settled on a chocolate Frappuccino and left Lydia in the queue to order after taking their combined luggage to a table outside.

He spent a while checking his social media accounts, liking a few posts from a few fellow true crime podcasters that were also going to the festival and scrolling through Derek’s Instagram page until he reached the most viewed post the other had. Up until that point he hadn’t actually liked Derek’s coming out post because he wasn’t sure if it had been intended to be seen by him or not, but now when they were about to meet he felt he should at least acknowledge it since it meant so much to Derek finally coming out.

He pressed the like button on the post and then typed the three hearts in the colours of the bisexual flag into a comment and pressed post before he changed his mind. Immediately he got a reply from Derek like he had been waiting for Stiles to comment, a heart-eyed emoji followed by a winking blowing kiss emoji with a red heart at the end along with multiple users hearting Stiles’ comment now that Derek had pretty much told them who he had been waiting for.

“You finally reacted to Derek’s post?” Lydia asked as she set his Frappuccino down in front of him before sitting down in the chair beside the one practically creaking under the weight of their carry-on luggage.

“I couldn’t not when hopefully things will finally be sorted between us. I didn’t think Derek would reply…. let alone that every one of his followers would like my comment. My alerts are going to be crazy for the next week.” Stiles sighed, turning the data off on his phone, and setting it on the table so he could focus on his drink.

“Hmmm, well I highly doubt you’ll be spending much time online when you tell Derek the truth about you and me. I’ll be lucky to get you out the hotel for our panel.” Lydia smiled knowingly with a raise eyebrow as Stiles pushed his straw into the drink.

“I doubt we’ll be that bad…. besides maybe I want him to wine and dine me first considering last time was such a disaster.” Stiles shrugged, though knew by the grin on the other’s face she didn’t believe him for a second. She knew him so well.

They spent the rest of their time talking about which serial killers to use for their three Australian killer episodes and downing their drinks before starting the walk towards their gate and sitting with the other passengers waiting to board the rest of the half hour wait.

Yet all too soon they were back on a plane, Stiles back to staring out the window though this time with a knowing smile on his lips as they got settled for the next hour and a half. Lydia immediately began to draw up pros and cons of each of the three serial killers they had chosen and became engrossed in the book again, leaving Stiles to turn on his Wi-Fi once they were in the air and see a DM alert for Instagram waiting for him in his sea of notifications.

DerekHale: I was beginning to wonder if you’d blocked me since it took you so long to react….

Stiles rolled his eyes but shook his head as he replied.

StilesStilin: I couldn’t make myself even if I wanted to….no I was just trying to prevent the onslaught of likes from your fans….so much for that now.

DerekHale: Sorry. I was just so happy to see your comment…. we’ll have to meet up when I get back in the country.

StilesStilin: Or….we could meet up when I finally set foot in Melbourne in about…..oooo an hour….

DerekHale: Wait….you’re coming to OZPod? I didn’t see it mentioned in the schedule for guests….

Stilesstilin: Well it was a last-minute decision….one my manager somehow managed to swing in record timing I might add. Besides, I thought at least this way we could meet up and clear up a few things face to face…

DerekHale: Erm, that….that sounds pretty good actually. What hotel are you staying at? I can come pick you up once you’ve checked in…

StilesStilin: Hold on a sec….

“Lyds what’s the name of the hotel Jordan booked us into? Derek wants to know so he can pick me up when we’ve checked in.” Stiles asked, Lydia barely looking up from what she was doing as she handed him her travel wallet with all the details from her bag and turned back to the book as she left Stiles to sort through the thick pile of paperwork for the right thing.

StilesStilin: QT Melbourne, 133 Russell St. I’ll let you know when we’ve arrived

DerekHale: Sounds good, I’ll see you soon x

Stiles closed the app and turned off the Wi-Fi, letting his gaze rest on the map showing the progress of the flight on the screen in front of him and tried not to count down the minutes obsessively by trying to help Lydia with the final decision on the serial killers they wanted to delve deeper into.

All too soon they were landing in Melbourne and Stiles was barely paying attention to the pilot as he grabbed his bag and led Lydia off the plane as soon as the doors were open. They made it through security and immigration quickly and made their way to the baggage claim where they had to wait longer than normal since Lydia had been hellbent on bringing double her normal luggage and the second case was at the very end of the bundle for their flight. So though he was itching to say to hell with it and leave Lydia there, he settled for putting all the luggage they currently had on a trolley and waiting for the taxi Jordan had booked at the exit of the airport which thankfully didn’t come before Lydia did.

The drive to their hotel wasn’t that far though Stiles spent most of the ride taking pictures of the scenery out the window and itching for them to get there quicker so he could message Derek that he was ready.

Soon they stopped outside a rather posh looking building that had Lydia written all over it and he had a feeling that Jordan had been talked into booking it for that very reason. After paying the driver Lydia led the way inside with Stiles bringing up the rear, as the redhead checked them in.

Since the hotel was one of those with bellboys that reminded Stiles too much of Home Alone 2, one was called to take them to their rooms when Stiles would have preferred to be just given his key and figure out how to get to his room later. But before he could object Lydia was clearing her throat and jerking her head pointedly in the direction of the main entrance, revealing Derek stood there looking as handsome and perfect as the first time they set eyes on each other.

“How?” Stiles asked the redhead as he watched Derek’s face light up from the doorway.

“I texted him on the way from the airport…. I thought it would drive you crazy if you had to wait any longer. So, here’s your key, I’ll get this gentleman to take your luggage up to your room and all being well I’ll see you both at the venue for the convention tomorrow. If you get lost just text me, but whatever you do…. don’t leave him until this is sorted ok?” Lydia said, putting Stiles' key in his hand.

“Thanks Lyds, I owe you one.” Stiles beamed, pushing the card in his hoodie pocket and pecking a kiss to her cheek after putting his bags minus his wallet and phone on the trolley before turning to Derek.

“Aren’t you a sight for jet lagged eyes.” Derek said softly, closing the gap between them and grazing his hand against Stiles’ cheek softly.

“I was just going to say the same thing. Why don’t you show me the way to your hotel just in case and we can get over those few hurdles on the way hm?" Stiles asked, Derek’s hand leaving his face to entwine with his own before leading the way out the hotel.

They had walked a few steps down the street when Stiles began the conversation that they desperately needed to have.

“So, I guess first things first…. congrats on coming out. Though you didn’t really need to.... not for me or for anyone.” Stiles said gently watching Derek’s gaze move to the floor.

“It wasn’t for you at least not completely….it was for me more than anything. Everything I put in that post was true….I had been fighting with myself to ignore who I truly was for so long that it was just getting to the point of exhausting. I’d look at you everytime we were together and all I could feel was acceptance and affection. It was something I had wanted to give myself over to but I struggled so hard to be honest about who I wanted.” Derek said brushing his thumb against Stiles’ knuckles.

“I mean I’ll let you into a secret…. not everyone knows I’m bi. It’s not something I actively tell people about because for me it’s just who I am. I like guys and girls and there is nothing wrong with that…. I just struggle to go for who I want when I find them. I mean for you it was a four-year crush before I could so much as make myself kiss you. Sure, I was drunk which might not have helped…. but that was everything I wanted then and everything that I want now more than ever.” Stiles said softly.

“And I’d be lying if I said I could remember much aside from us making out in the lift that morning….but there was something so freeing about waking up beside you and knowing that what we had done was what I wanted. But it was complicated by my own feelings, the guilt of being so sure I took advantage of you like Theo did…” Derek said thickly, the realization that Derek was sure he had forced himself on Stiles made his eyes wide and his stomach roll.

God no wonder he had been so hell bent on leaving.

“But you didn’t. I remember more than enough to know that every single part of that I wanted and needed because it was you Derek.” Stiles soothed, even as Derek swallowed and shook his head.

“But Theo….” Derek began only for Stiles to sigh and shake his head

“No, you are not Theo. Theo was jumped up little upstart who wanted what he could get so it would help his career in the future. You, god Derek…you are nothing like him. Not to mention the whole time I was kissing Theo and letting him fuck me I was thinking of you. If I hadn’t had you on my mind I’m sure without a shadow of a doubt that I would not have let him so much as touch me.” Stiles said, earning a sad smile from Derek.

“What did Lydia say when she found out about you and Theo?" Derek asked causing Stiles shake his head and laugh.

“Another thing we need to clear up Derek, me and Lydia aren’t together together. She’s been one of my closest friends since high school who agreed to do me a solid with a podcast that ended up bonding us and while I had a crush on her it didn’t last long and meant nothing. Besides she’s taken to dating our manager for the past two years….so even if I was interested which I’m not I wouldn’t have a chance anyway. So, I don’t know who told you that but it isn’t true.” Stiles said watching Derek’s ears flush red.

“It was Kate, though looking back she might have done that on purpose to make sure my attention was on her. It definitely explains a lot and makes me wonder why I didn’t just ask you sooner…” Derek said thoughtfully.

“I suppose that does make sense; she really was a possessive little bitch. Still at least you know the truth now.” Stiles smiled, as they finally appeared outside a hotel that looked way more expensive than anything, he could afford even after ransacking their Patreon savings. “Damn Derek…”

“It’s quite something isn’t it? My assistant Braeden picked it at random when she was doing the bookings for this trip. Still the outside pales in comparison to the inside…” Derek smiled, leading Stiles through the foyer towards the lift.

“How about compared to your room…?” Stiles asked, watching a shy twinkle appear in the other’s eyes.

“My room is amazing in itself, but I’m sure without a shadow of a doubt that it would be all the better if you were sharing it with me.” Derek murmured, grazing Stiles’ cheek with his free hand before cupping the back of his neck and kissing Stiles deeply.

It wasn’t filled with the same drunken urgent hunger that their first one was, it was sweet and yet filled with a sense of adoration that had Stiles practically melting into it. Letting Derek take the lead and suck at his bottom lip gently enough to part them before deepening it just a little more with Derek’s tongue grazing against his own.

“Um….you know if you’re going to come up with smooth lines and kisses like those every damn time I get an invitation like that then I think I can easily agree….” Stiles murmured when they parted far enough for their foreheads to rest together.

“You sure….? I don’t want to rush things this time Stiles…. I don’t want it to be like it was before all wham bam thank you mam get the fuck out my bed. I want you to devour you sober, to know what you like and how your body reacts with each touch. So, if you aren’t ready….” Derek said huskily.

“Derek Derek Derek….it’s been twelve months since I last set eyes let alone tasted your gorgeous body so there is no doubt in my mind that I’m ready. But I think that this time…. after that morning after I think I deserve a turn don’t you?" Stiles purred, the doors opening and him tugging Derek inside so he could press the right button.

“Oh really? What do you have in mind?” Derek asked, pressing the ninth-floor button without looking, his whole attention fixated on Stiles.

“Oh, I don’t know, your whole gloriously naked hot body on display for my attention only and willing to give in to any whim that I want. After all…. you may have got to fuck me Derek…..but I haven’t had the complete joy of showing you how amazing it can feel on the receiving end just yet.” Stiles smiled flirtatiously, biting his bottom lip as he backed into a corner of the lift and curled his arms around Derek’s neck to pull him with him.

“I thought I was supposed to be making it up to you, that hardly seems fair…” Derek murmured, brushing his lips teasingly against Stiles’ as his hands rested on Stiles’ hips.

“Oh, but you will be. Trust me?” Stiles whispered, letting one hand move from Derek’s neck and tracing down the length of his back until his fingers grazed down between Derek’s denim clad ass cheeks causing the taller to groan in the back of his throat.

“I can’t imagine doing anything else….” Derek said hoarsely, letting Stiles’ lips capture his own as the youngers hand slid inside his jeans and boxers and dug his nails into the bare skin of his ass willingly just as the doors opened on the correct floor.

Stiles directed Derek out the lift their mouths still moving hungrily together, until Derek was pushed up against the wall opposite the lift so the doors could close. Their mouths parted as Derek arched his back against the wall at the tightening grip Stiles had on his ass and how Stiles’ mouth moved from his own despite his whimper of objection to sucking bruises into his neck.

“Which room is yours?" Stiles asked, as the tip of his index finger grazed against Derek’s taint causing him to curse and his hips to jerk against Stiles’ at the sensation.

“Erm….Fuck Stiles….” Derek cursed, Stiles taking pity on him enough to remove one hand to take the key card from Derek’s pocket.

“Room 903…. which is right here…..” Stiles crooned, catching Derek’s mouth again in a dirty kiss as he guided him across the corridor to the right door. “Um…. you gonna open the door for me Der? Sooner we get in there sooner I can make you feel even better.”

Derek cursed again as he panted hungrily against Stiles’ mouth reluctantly letting go of Stiles’ hip long enough to take the key from Stiles and swipe it as the younger ground his cock against his own teasingly. Once the door was opened Stiles smiled at him wickedly and captured Derek’s lips again with his own as he pushed away from the wall and let Derek back him into the room, slamming the door shut behind them.

The next morning the pair arrived at the convention a little later than initially planned, though that was in no small part due to Stiles getting distracted by Derek’s naked body in the shower at least twice and being unable to help himself from indulging in the body that he had worshipped that night before. It was more than obvious to everyone around them why they were late, if not due to the fact that Stiles was wearing some of Derek’s clothes that were ridiculously big on him or because of the bruises covering Derek’s neck and how his attention seemed fixated on Stiles then by the way they were holding hands as they wove their way through the crowd with Derek’s assistant Braeden who was no doubt going to give Derek a talking to for being late.

“Stiles there you are! I was beginning to think you weren’t coming or that was I was going to have to send Jordan to Derek’s hotel to get you.” Lydia huffed, appearing from the crowd with Jordan behind her.

“Sorry Lyds, we got a bit distracted or else we would have been here earlier.” Stiles smiled, the innuendo causing Derek’s ears to go read and Braeden to roll her eyes.

“Hm, I’m sure. Anyway, we’re up next, I’ve managed to get together enough information on Paula Deyer but we might need to do a bit of comparison with a few other well-knowns to stretch it out a little.” Lydia said, letting Stiles take the script she was holding in his free hand and give it a look through as Derek let go of his hand and curled his arms around his waist instead, letting his lips rest against the nape of Stiles’ neck as he looked the script over too.

“I think I might have a few more books on Australian serial killers I can loan you when we’re back in the states if that would help…” Derek said gently into Stiles’ skin causing a shiver down Stiles’ spine even as he looked over his shoulder at his other half.

“Really? I didn’t know that was something you were interested in Der…” Stiles asked, turning the page on the script.

“Not so much….but since I knew it was what you were going to be looking into next I asked a few old friends in the true crime genre who gave me some recommendations.” Derek shrugged, one hand sliding under the hemline of Stiles’ shirt only for Stiles catch it by lacing the fingers of his free hand with Derek’s to stop it venturing any further.

“We’d appreciate any help we can get…” Stiles said out loud, before raking his fingers through Derek’s hair and pulling his ear closer towards his mouth before murmuring. “Not now Der…but I swear as soon as this is over you can do whatever you want to me.”

“Um, I’m planning it right now as we speak.” Derek grinned into the side of his neck before letting Stiles go and watching him follow Lydia up on to the stage.

Stiles met his gaze before he disappeared through the curtains and winked at him knowingly before the sound of the Talk Murder to Me Theme song blared over the PA accompanied by the sound of fans screaming in welcome and closely followed by Stiles’ Melodious voice welcoming the crowd and doing the usual introduction that Derek had heard so many times before. Though never had it made his heart soar more than to know that the man on the other side of that curtain was and would always be his if he had anything to say about it.

Fin.

[nad-zeta]

Match up ｡◕‿◕｡

Hello, may I get a ikemen vampire match please! :D PHYSICAL FEATURES: 5'5", long straight black hair (past the shoulders, but not past the chest), light brown skin, beauty mark on my left cheek almost adjacent to nostril, "fiery" brown almond shaped eyes and a little bit of a thicker eyebrows, body figure: close to a pear shape or an hourglass (I really can't distinguish the difference between the two when it comes to my body).

PERSONALITY: I tend to be down to earth when I need to be, but to be honest my head is always in the clouds and I have a habit to look forward to the future rather than to focus on the present. People would tend to think I am strong and could be a good leader, but I think they hold this perception because I am confident in myself and strong willed. In actuality I hate to lead others, rather I like to help everyone else with their vision or goals. I am also someone who finds positivity in many situations, but sometimes pessimistic (or just pure procrastination) gets the better of me, but I have no worries when this happens because I becone my own motivator. Big dreamer and occasionally a romantic (when the mood is right). Also, I have had my shares of being shut out during conversationsor have noticed people wanting to be a part of a group or to be inclusive in some manner, due to these experiencesand observations I found myselfalways wanting to make sure everyonehas had their voice spoken and listened to. As a direct influence to my personality on how I want everyone to have a voice and to be listened to I became someonewho enjoyed being the listener and the observer in the group. I have recently taken the Bridge Myer Test and it said I am and INFP (which I believe describes me fairly well).

HOW WOULD I ACT IN A RELATIONSHIP: I love to listen to others and observe their reactions, understanding who they are on a deeper level, this only further my understanding of my love language: which is quality time. Just spending time with the person I love and listening to them while they interchangeably listen to me is my ultimate high. Even enjoying each others company and not saying a word sits well in my heart, as long as we are enjoying ourselves. I am not a level 10 PDA person, but to be honest I wouldn't mind having someone who is expressive in that area (as long as I am given space afterwards), to be honset I may even enjoy it. At the start of a relationship I tend to have rose colored glasses on max as I pursue someone I like, but as they admit their emotions they hold for me and the lovely valentine styled scene shatters and I begin to see everything more clearly. Instantly I tend to only want a relationship of friendship to grow between us, which becomes a better outcome as I can grow to love the confesser as the person they really are and actually develop genuine love and not just a crush or lust.

MORE INFO ABOUT ME: I am currently studying architecture and I love the arts. Hobbies of mine is to expand my herb garden, go jogging, go white water rafting, learn to roller skate (still a beginner), learn to paddle board (still a dream of mine to even start this hobbie), help my dad pick vegtables from the garden, and feed our sheep. I tend to take the beaten path when traveling, shopping, or finding a place to eat. Also for a little fun for this match-up, I'm minoring in Medevial Renaissance in hopes to use my degree to go to Europe or Japan and restore old castles or buildings. Speaking about traveling, I love areas that heavy on history, culture, and connected towards nature (some areas that come to mind is Scotland, New Orleans Louisiana, Savannah Georgia, Montana, Italy, Greece, ect.). Some of my other invests would be: enjoying horror, mystery, psychologically teasing movies and books, murder podcasts, history documentaries (especially history documentaries that involves the involvement of phantoms, occult, witchcraft, voodoo,.ect) paranormal YouTubevideos, I love to go antiquing, and enjoy exploringthe food world (while I also improvemy skill in cooking), and I enjoy indie pop music and recently found myself loving songs with a twist of blues.

Hi hi love! 🌻❤Thank you so much for the request and sorry for taking so long with it! I hope you have a super good day, sending lots of hugs! ❤☺Hope ya enjoy it! ❤☺ @100christy

 So I match you with.................. Comte

  The first time you met the legend, Saint Germain de Comte was during one of your classes minoring in the Medieval Renaissance. They had gotten in a very handsome man with gold, dusty coloured hair and timeless golden eyes, to guest speak during one of the lectures. He spoke with a sense of a knowing grace about alchemy, the traditions, cultures and history of that time. He had encaptivated all the students; all eyes were on him as everyone hung onto his every word. He elegantly walked about the lecture hall speaking as if he had, had a first account of the event being described and that is when his eyes locked with yours. His golden eyes were gleaming in the rays of the afternoon sun, piercing down into the depths of your soul, and that is when this mysterious man stole your heart. And little known to you, the second this man saw your fiery brown almond eyes, his breath caught in his throat and he found that for the first time in his immortal life, his heart had been stolen right from under his nose.

For the rest of his lecture, you were off in the clouds, far away from reality, in fact by the time you had come back down to earth the lesson was over and all the students were on their feet to leave. You caught a glance of the golden man’s coat that he had forgotten laying on the front desk. Suddenly you felt the urge to chase after him. You trailed behind the blond man, hoping to catch up to him to deliver him his coat back. You followed him all the way to some fancy museum when you lost sight of him as he disappeared through a large wooden door. There was a mystical air about the door and sounding area, and as a travel and mystery lover, you couldn’t help but follow after the man. The room around you changed from crips white museum walls, to an old victorian style room filled to the brim with the most fascinating antiques. You wished nothing more than to explore the house filled with the most curious nicknacks, but you pushed on to find the man to return him the coat.

You were suddenly startled when the very man that you were trying to track down, appeared behind you and tapped you on the shoulder, “Are you looking for me, Ma Cherie.” You got a freight but relaxed the second you caught sight of his gentle smile.

“Found you! You forgot your coat in class, so I thought I might return it to you.” He smiled down tenderly at you as he gently took the coat from your hands, “I hope you didn’t go through to much trouble to get this back to me my dear,” He then carefully took your hand and laid a chaste kiss on it, “would you like to join me in the garden from some tea, Ma Cherie. I would like to do at least something to thank you for going through all that trouble.” A sad smile crossed his face as he gently took your hand in his and led you to the garden signalling for the butler to bring the two of you some tea and snacks to the gazebo out in the lush, vibrant garden.

Comte couldn’t help but smile a fond smile down at you as you excitingly examined his herb garden. He crouched down beside you and gushed all about his little plants he had nursed from seedling, and you couldn’t help but smile up at the man. His timeless old face had tuned youthful as he raved all about the herbs and how his butler uses them in their meals. He even offered you a little patch to start your own, and before you could decline, he dropped the “you will be here for one-month” bomb. And that is how your relationship with the pureblood started.

In the weeks to follow you and Comte spent a significant amount of time together from travelling around the province to visit every antique shop insight to doing a bit of gardening together.

As it was, the two of you shared a common love language, and that would be quality time, and as such, every free moment the two of you got, was spent together. Comte is very much a busybody and has many different friends in different places, so its no surprise when he invites you along to travel with him. Once he is done with his business the two of your travel around the area going sightseeing, from looking at different castles to discovering all that is to be known about French architecture of the late 19th century. In fact, sometimes your travels expand even out of Paris to neighbouring provinces and areas.

When the two of you aren’t off travelling the world together, you are back at the mansion just enjoying each others company. Sometimes the two of you would simply be in the same room together each busy with their own task while enjoying the company of the other presence.

As time passes the two of you become relatively close friends, Comte knows you have to go back in a month, and he wouldn’t dare ask you to give up your life in the future for him. So he cherishes every moment spent in the past with you. He knows his heart will be broken in two when the day comes, but he is determined to do what it takes to make you happy. After all, you are the love of his life, whether you know it or not. This man fell in love with you the moment he first met you, and after spending countless days with you, that love has only grown.

He loves how strong-willed and confident you are, giving all the men and woman at the fancy banquets a run for their money. He loves how much you have helped the fellow residents subtly realize their visions and goals and have helped them to grow. He especially loves the way you include everyone in your conversations. You're a truly kind and caring soul, and he can't help but deeply cherish you. So he does the only thing he can do while you are still with him….. he spoils you. This man loves to buy gifts for you, and he WILL buy you anything and everything your heart desires.

And through your time spent the golden pureblood, you have come to realize that somewhere along the line you stopped seeing him as a friend and instead saw him as a potential partner. Your rose coloured glasses were shattered, as you had come upon that realization one night during one of the balls. You were dancing with Comte and couldn’t help but beam at the carefree smile he wore, and at that moment you realized you wanted to spend the rest of your life seeing that carefree smile. You realized that your feeling had gone beyond some measly crush or just lust, but that you truly loved him as a best friend, dare I say, soul mate. You were now determined to make your feelings know.

You confessed your feeling to Comte one sunny afternoon while the two of you went white water rafting. After making your way down the river, the two of you landed up in a still lake in the middle of the forest. The two of you had found this river a while back while you were hiking after you had insisted on taking the beaten path. On the waters of the crystal clear still water you looked up into Comte's golden eyes and confessed your love. To say this man was delighted would be an understatement. Gentlemanly as always he gently took hold of your hand and kissed it, while stating that he felt the exact same way.

The two fo you cuties were inseparable, always off together doing some or other fun activity. Comte loved that you had so many varies hobbies, and he truly enjoyed participating in each and every one of these hobbies. Be it jogging, or rollerskating he was always keen to try new things.

His favourite of your hobbies would have to be shopping and discovering new places to eat. If the two of you aren’t doing something active, you are out in the town buying everything in sight and trying variouse new restaurants. It has actually become a lunchtime tradition for Comte to seek you out and escort you into town where the two of you would have lunch together at a new café.

The two of you have a very open and honest relationship that has been built on the best foundation….. Friendship. Comte absolutely loves those quieter moments with you nestled against his chest as the two of you talk about anything and everything. He loves that you actually listen to and try and, understand who he is on a deeper level.

He is at his happiest when he is just spending time with you and listening to you as you interchangeably listen to him as well. Speaking of, you absolutely love picking this man’s brain about cultures and history, and he loves nothing more than to tell you story upon story of historical events that he has lived through and witnessed first hand. This man lives for that excited expression on your face whenever the two of you talk history, culture and how it is connected to nature. And oooh when comte found out you liked mysteries and stories about the paranormal (phantoms, occult, witchcraft, voodoo,etc), he was all too pleased to spill the tea and even do some research on the topics together with you.

All and all the two of you have a lot of fun together, whether its out exploring the world or spending a quiet night in simply nestled in each other's arms exchanging words of love. Comte will spend every day of your mortal life cherishing you. And every day of your immortal life together showering you with an endless amount of love and affection. After all, he is at his happiest when you are happy, his dearest soul mate

Other Potential matches………………… Dazai 

I hope you enjoyed this love and have the best day!❤☺🥰

[kasdeyathebitterwoman]

Running Mate - Part 4

Eek! Somehow we’re on part 4 and still going! I hope you all are enjoying this series as much as I am. I should have a few more updates for you soon with this series and with the Ninja Warrior Love Story series, so watch this space!

Idea: While running through the English countryside, Henry meets a fun documentarian and sparks fly.

CW: none

Word Count: 3,165 (sorry, the words got away from me on this one!)

taglist:

@maeleeme @andyrazzledazzle @fanfictionaddiction99 @henrycavillluv32 @blossom-a @jhenno2002​

The next morning, you wake up groggy from lack of sleep. The screening and after “party” for your documentary went on much later than you anticipated. So much so, you missed your alarm completely which means you missed running with Henry this morning. That was okay though, since you were seeing him later today. You walked out of the guest room where you were staying and into the kitchen where there was fresh coffee.

“Morning, sunshine,” James says and you grunt in response. James is sitting at the breakfast table reading through several of the feedback cards. You make yourself a cup of much-needed coffee then join James at the table. You pick up a few of the cards to read yourself.

“How did Fiona feel about the final product?” you ask. Fiona was your documentary’s main benefactor. She was a really kind woman with an eye for successful projects, so you were hoping that your efforts were worthy.

“She was seriously impressed,” James replied. “Everyone was, just read through the notes here,” he said, so you did. Almost everyone said the same thing, that the film was raw, real, and heartbreaking in a good way. You smiled as you read through the responses. There were some valuable critiques about editing, sound volume, and color correction and then there were some silly comments. You snorted reading a few and James nodded his head in agreement.

“Well, I think last night was a success,” you finally muse and James nods.

“A very successful night for you,” he replies and you squint at him over your mug.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask.

“Oh, nothing,” he sighs. “I just can’t think of anyone else that shows a fantastic documentary then snogs Superman himself in the same night,” James finishes. He isn’t looking at you, but at the notecards, so he can’t see the serious scowl that you are giving.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you reply, huffing a little.

“Mhmm,” James grunts and you huff a little more.

“Whatever,” you say, standing up from the table. “I’m going to equalize the audio from the second round of interviews,” you go to refill your mug before leaving.

“Alrighty, I’ll feed you Cheese-It’s if you get stuck in your room,” James says and you stop in your tracks.

“Oh my god, I’m going to murder Kyle for telling you that story,” you say and James laughs hysterically. You scowl the entire time walking to the room remembering when your old brother Jeremy caught you kissing a boy and accidentally locked you in your bedroom. Kyle, your older brother of five years, fed you Cheese-Its under the door while you waited for Jeremy to get the tools to fix it.

You got dressed in a large, chunky sweater, leggings, and big fuzzy socks. You took your hair and piled it into a bun on the top of your head. Then you shuffled into the workroom where James had a set up a computer bay for work. You grabbed a set of headphones and began equalizing the second round of interviews your director got.

Hours passed while you worked and you easily found yourself absorbed in the work. You were listening to a woman talk about her experience when something touched your shoulder. At the same time, there was a loud sound on the video.

“AHH!” you scream, jumping in your chair. You whip around to find James jumping back from you with his hands up in the air. Then he doubles over with laughter. “What do you want?” you demand, placing your hand over your heart. James is laughing and crying so hard he can barely talk. Finally, he calms down and composes himself.

“Henry Cavill is here,” he says, still chuckling and wiping away tears at the corners of his eyes.

“Who? Oh!” you yell, bouncing up from your chair and darting out of the room. Henry is standing in the living room looking at several pictures that James has up on the mantle. “Hey Henry,” you say as nonchalantly as possible. He turns around and smiles when he sees you.

“Hey,” he replies and your heart skips a beat. He’s wearing a simple blue shirt, jeans, brown leather shoes, and a newsboy hat. His smile is so genuine, even when it shows off those canines. “Are you ready to go?” he asks slowly taking in your current outfit. You look at him confused then you suddenly remember.

“Oh, no! I’m not ready!” you say quickly and turn to dart of to your room before turning back around. “I definitely did not forget that we were going out, I was just,” you pause trying to think of a better answer other than forgetfulness. Henry is smiling and trying to contain laughter.

“It’s okay,” he replies, the laughter clear in his voice. You sigh and smile at him.

“Give me about five minutes,” you say holding up your hand then darting off for your room. Quickly you throw on a pair of skinny jeans, replace the chunky sweater with a thinner gray sweater, and your ballet flats. You pull your hair out of the bun and run a brush through it quickly. You washed your face the night before so there were no traces of makeup and you didn’t have time to throw anything on now, so this would have to do. As you are leaving your room, you can hear Henry and James chatting about something.

“It’s a project we don’t have backing for just yet, so I’m trying to get as much together before we take it to our benefactors,” James says as you round the corner. You see Henry nodding with interest and then he sees you and smiles.

“Speaking of, James,” you start, waving a little at Henry. “There is a weird sound during Mrs. McClendon’s interview,” you say and James gives you a puzzled look. “Here, come listen. Henry, you can come along as well,” you say, turning and gesturing for the men to follow you. All three of you walk into the workroom and Henry whistles low.

“This looks very familiar to me,” he says and James smiles. You smile as you grab a set of headphones and hand them to James. He puts them on while you pull the audio back to the place of the sound. You can hear it even though the headphones are on his ears and watch as James jumps a little at how harsh the sound is.

“Jesus, that’s intense,” he says, taking the headphones off. “Just mark it and equalize like you normally would and we’ll decide later if we need this section of the interview,” he instructs and you nod. You grab a notepad by the keyboard and write everything down. James and Henry discuss his set up while you find and mark the audio. When you’re done, you turn to the two men.

“Okay, sorry about that Henry, I’m ready to go when you are,” you say and Henry nods. He shakes James’ hand and thanks him for letting him look around. As you leave with Henry, James calls out from the room. “Where are we going, by the way?” you ask, realizing you had no idea what the plan was.

“Well, there is a new exhibit at the Natural History Museum about Ancient Rome. I was thinking we could go take a look and then maybe grab something to eat,” he says and you can almost detect a hint of embarrassment in his voice. You smile wide at him.

“That sounds awesome!” you reply, genuinely excited. You haven’t been to the Natural History Museum here yet, though you’ve lived in London for over a year. You walk out to Henry’s car and he jogs to open the passenger door for you. “Such a gentleman,” you tease as you slide into the car. You can see Henry smiling to himself as he closes the door and jogs around to the drivers’ side. When you glance around the car, it doesn’t take long for you to realize this is a very fancy car and for a moment, you panic.

Henry climbs into the car, starts it, and you nervously arrange yourself in the seat. Henry doesn’t notice and drives off. The ride is silent for the most part until you decide to start asking Henry more about himself. You ask him about his home island, what it was like going to boarding school, and how he decided that acting was the direction he wanted to go in. Henry was a good sport and seemingly answers all of your questions honestly. You laugh with him through stories of growing up with four brothers and empathize with him as he talks about being the “weird” kid at school.

When you arrive at the museum, Henry easily finds parking. You attempt to let yourself out, but Henry stops you, jogging around to open the door for you. You give him a closed-lip smile and can’t refrain from saying something.

“You don’t have to keep doing that,” you say and Henry looks confused. “Never mind,” you say, chuckling and shaking your head. Henry realizes what you meant and blushes.

“Sorry, I’m a gentleman through and through,” he says sheepishly. You reach up and gently cup the side of his face.

“It’s okay, just be better,” you joke before giving him a gentle yet firm pat on the cheek. His expression is a mixture of shock, surprise, and awe and it casques you to laugh out loud. You turn to run but Henry grabs a hold of your hand and pulls you back to him. He embraces you in a firm, playful way, laughing the whole time. After a moment, he lets go and you walk hand in hand with him into the museum.

Because you’ve never been the center of attention, you are much more aware of the stares that Henry, and subsequently you, are getting. Henry doesn’t seem to be phased by it, so you try hard to do the same, but you can’t deny that it’s very strange and unnerving. At the ticket booth, Henry goes to pull out his card, but you bump him out of the way dramatically and offer some cash to the woman. She looked confused as her eyes flicked between Henry and you.

“It’s okay, we’re trying to break him of his horrible, horrible gentlemanly ways,” you say and the ticket girl bursts into laughter. Henry is shaking his head and smiling as you accept the tickets and you smile wide at him as you hand him is the ticket. When you walk up to the next booth to have your tickets scanned, Henry begins gently tickling and nipping at your sides. It causes you to jump around and laugh. The ticket scanner is watching you with a strange look on her face.

“It’s fine, I’m just learning to not be a gentleman,” Henry says sardonically as he takes another jab at you to which you respond with a muffled squeal and slap to his hand. Both he and the ticket scanner laugh before you notice a recognition flash through her eyes. Henry doesn’t see this but you do.

“Do you want to get a picture with him?” you ask her and she smiles as Henry’s eyes dart back and forth before he understands what’s going on. You take the girls phone after she pulls up her camera for you. Henry obliges and puts an arm around the girl while smiling at you as you take several pictures. “Sell those for a lot of money,” you say handing the phone back to the girl. Henry rolls his eyes and barks out a laugh, before grabbing your hand and dragging you off. Once again you smile wide at him. “What? That was sound advice,” you joke at Henry’s side-eye. “Okay, I’m sorry, that was kind of mean,” you say, realizing you may have actually crossed a line with Henry. He stops and turns to you, looking down with those intense blue eyes. Then he reaches down, cups the side of your face and says,

“It’s okay, just be better,” then gently taps the side of your face. Your jaw drops open, but no sound comes out. You watch him walk away, a smug smile plastered across his face. Your place your hand over your heart and call out,

“The grasshopper is learning!” you laugh and watch as Henry laughs along with you. You powerwalk up to him and take his hand with yours, smiling proudly up at him. The rest of the afternoon is spent walking around the Ancient Greece exhibit. Henry enjoys pointing things out to you almost as much as he enjoys listening to you tell him about various bits of information. Several times he is stopped for pictures and autographs and you smile every single time it happens. Henry seems very connected with his fans and genuinely doesn’t seem to mind when they politely ask for something from him. A few times you take the picture for fans so groups or duos can all be together with Henry. What you appreciate is regardless of how chill Henry seems with the interactions, he always checks back with you and asks to confirm you are okay. At one point, the director of the museum found out Henry Cavill was there and offered to give you both a free, private tour of the exhibit.

“So this is how the other half lives,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, but Henry hears you and smirks. He leans down to whisper in your ear.

“I wouldn’t know, I don’t take advantage of half the things I’m offered,” he whispers in your ear. You give him a sideways smirk and laugh at the silly face he makes. The director takes the two of you around the exhibit, explaining the reasoning behind the setup, placement and such. That aspect of the process is fascinating and you can’t help but grill him with questions. The director answers everything willingly and you openly ignore the smirk Henry has every time he looks at you.  

When you are done with the tour, you and Henry leave to go get something to eat as planned. He held your hand the entire time to the car and then reached across the console to hold your hand as he drove. Henry picked a nice restaurant not far from the museum. Not only did he open the doors for you, but he pulled your chair out as well. The waiter took your drink orders and left you to examine the menus. A few moments later, you gave your order and sipped the wine that was brought for you.

“I have to say,” Henry starts. “It was interesting to see you hound that museum director back there,” he says, smirking at you. Your jaw dropped and you scoffed.

“I did not hound him,” you claim and Henry snorts.

“You were relentless,” he replies and all you can do is scoff.

“I was interested in the process and I had questions,” you insist. Henry’s raised brow expression causes you to start giggling. Henry joins you and the two of you laugh like school children. You have to calm yourself because your waiter has brought out your food. After a few moments of eating, Henry speaks again.

“Tell me where the name Bulldog Westley comes from,” Henry asks as you finish a bite of your food. You smile, thinking about it.

“It’s a way to pay homage to James’ first love: his dog, Westley,” you say and Henry smiles. “He was the sweetest bulldog I ever met and absolutely the main reason James and I became friends in the first place,” you say, laughing. Henry laughs as well, a smile unmoving from his face.

“How did you and James meet?” he asks and again, you smile at the memory.

“We met at school. I went to The University of North Texas and James was an exchange student in the film program. We officially met while taking a Television Documentary course,” you say and Henry’s blue eyes twinkle. “We did try to date, but he’s honestly more like a fourth brother than a lover,” you say and make a face. Henry laughs, his smile making your heart flutter like crazy. Y’all finish your meal and Henry pays, making a point to look at you as he places his credit card in the book.

The drive back to James’ house is silent, but Henry holds your hand the entire time. His thumb occasionally grazes your knuckles. He pulls into the driveway and parks the car, looking over at you.

“Thank you for today,” you say and Henry offers a gentle smile.

“No, thank you,” Henry replies. “This was an amazing day,” you smile and feel your heart beating a million miles a minute. Henry pulls himself out of the car then jogs around to your door. He opens it and helps you out, then walks you up the short distance to the porch. You stand there, awkwardly wondering what Henry plans to do next. He makes himself clear when he closes the small gap between, gently placing his hands on either side of your face, and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s gentle at first but quickly turns passionate. His tongue teases yours and he moans as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. His hands slip down your shoulders and stop just above your butt on your hips.

Eventually, you break away from him, a smile permanently attached to your face. You look up at Henry through your eyelashes and see that he is smiling just as wide.

“You could come in for coffee or more wine or tea, if you want,” you say, hoping to god he’ll say yes so you can continue kissing those soft, delicious lips.

“I want to say yes, but,” Henry sighs and you groan.

“Oh, I know that ‘but’ well,” you murmur and Henry chuckles.

“I know, I’ve got work and meetings in the city,” he replies.

“You don’t have to explain it to me, baby,” you say and Henry smiles.

“Keep calling me that and I’ll never make it home,” Henry murmurs.

“Baby, baby, baby,” you purr, leaning in close to him. Henry sighs, pulling your body close to his. He leans down and kisses you deeply again. You snake your fingers through his hair, moaning into him. You kiss him passionately, feeling the warmth of his body even through his clothes. Finally, you break away from him, you both breathing heavily.

“I have to go,” Henry whispers, not letting go of you and not backing away.

“Then go,” you whisper back and Henry smiles painfully. He finally leaves and you watch as he drives away down the private road, running your thumb over your lips still feeling the tingle of Henry’s kiss.

[echo-inthevoid]

Season 2 q&a and overall reaction

Jonny stealing everyone's names XD 

Is martin going to be ok!? I also need to know! 

He said no;-; 

ok ya, no one's gonna be ok. 

Ya, he must do sooo much research. 

Ya, except for "fatigue" lol.

Eyyy the mechanisms!! 

What's the red string brigade? Ok, I guess a group of fans theorizing about stuff. 

Oh ok so someone else did martins poetry. Ooh, there's more martin poetry out there! *grabby hands*

Ok ya, Alex clarifying that Jon isn't stupid he just makes poor decisions. Probably if he'd paused and thought about it (like I did lol, I had to go do some stuff in the middle of that ep and thought about it a whole bunch lol) instead of immediately going out and buying an axe and further isolating himself and panicking immediately he probably would have figured it out. This is why it's bad to panic in a crisis guys. 

Eyyy! Jonny's parents voiced Gertrude and Leitner! That's so cool. 

XD Jonny grumbling about having to work with his parents. 

Hmm, I hadn't really thought of Gertrude being like a mother figure in the story? She just seems very cut-throat I guess from what Leitner said. Idk so far I've been very suspicious of her. Especially since that one statement where her photo burned a whole bunch of people or something. She just seems very shady... 

Alex chortling over Jonny's pain. XD

Side note, Every time there's a q&a I just can't stop noticing Jonny's voice going in and out of archivist range? Like most of the time I'm just listening along and then he'll say a sentence a bit grumblier and my brains immediately like "ARCHIVIST! That's THE ARCHIVIST!!" 

Martin would be the last one alive in Friday the 13th! It's official! 

(Is it bad that this gives me hope)

Jon likes Nonfiction, documentaries, and probably collects something just a little bit weird. *writes down for use in potential fics* 

also while im at it I remember jon saying he dislikes coffee at one point,  and so many people have him liking coffee in their fics! This has been your daily reminder of that fact because ever since then it keeps bugging me lol. (But also do whatever u want.)

Alex's spluttering sounds so much like Martin.

Yes!! I want to hear jon sing!! Yes! Musical Episode When!!?

Ah yes yes yes! All the characters are so unique!!? How does he do it!! 

Ya, it being in audio format sometimes makes it hard to understand what's happening in the live-action bits. (Live-action is the wrong word but u know what I mean.)

Oh ok ya, how he mentioned he got a pipe was quite clever I didn't realize that that's why he mentioned it at all. 

Ooh, there's a manga where there's something similar to Michael? I'll have to look that up later...

XD Alex and Jonny arguing about apples. 

Ok, so all the statements we're hearing ARE for reals. I kinda assumed but good to have it confirmed.

They used to hang out together!!? Work function curry nights!! ;-; 

Ya Ya! Who made the leitners!?

"You are assuming a book needs to be written" ...ok then. (but it has to have been created somehow??? Did they just spring fully formed from the powers? why? And why take the form of books?)

Alex's mischievous laugh about whether jon has friends *trembles in fear*

Yes!! Micheal is so good! I'm so happy they love him too! Yesyes! His laugh! 

Ah Yes!! Mary kaey was so creepy! 

XD yes yes yes fatigue was written on zero sleep, I knew it! 

Akskdjdkd I love them so much. Also, I've looked up Michaels voice actor luke booys and he does some other horrory type sketches n stuff and I kiiinda want to do a little animatic with some of those but it's Michael like annoying some poor soul lost in his halls... I think that'd be fun. I wonder if anyone's done that yet? If so someone send me the links I neeeed iiitt :3

Season 2 summary:

Uuuuu ya so this season was really good. I kinda listened to it in bursts of about ten episodes every couple weeks and then have been saving up the reactions to post later so these are usually going up about a week or so after I actually listened to the episode just FYI. 

I also do have a lot of spoilers cause I can't keep myself away from fanfic and people don't always tag for spoilers and I kiiinda wana know what's coming beforehand anyway? Idk it's hard man I get very stressed about what might happen and then also listening to too much at a time is too spooky for my poor little heart so I gotta read the less spooky fanfic to fulfill the hyperfixation you see. (If anyone has fanfic with spoilers only up to season 2 that'd be great btw) 

Anyway, I try not to take spoiler type stuff into account unless I'm just so sure of it I can't really not acknowledge that I know about it. 

Also, can I just talk about Michael for a minute?? Cause he's such a unique character? And I guess maybe there are other characters like him but I haven't ever seen one -tho to be fair tma is only like the third horror thing I've ever really got into (the other two are the SCP Foundation in its various forms and Little Nightmares. Hence why I keep making reference to SCP it's really the only thing I know similar to this.) But he's such a cool concept!!? Like someTHING that still has a personality? He's so not human? Like I get what he says but also I don't really? Idk im pretty sure he's an avatar right? Right?? Idk if that means he was a person at some point? But all this to say that he is probably the most inhuman character I've come across so far and I'm trying to figure out what it is about him that's so "other" to me? Like... I don't really know what Micheal's deal is? he seems to want to be sort of a neutral mischief-maker but also it seems like he keeps getting invested. But also I just love the way he talks about himself. Like he's a monster that has a personality and is fully intelligent but isn't just evil but isn't neutral either and certainly isn't benevolent. Like he's so complex and just,,,, the idea of a "thing" that's got a personality?? I love it? Kind of like dryads or spirits of things? Like the idea that after a long time things gain personality just by existing? Not that that's what Michael is necessarily? but that same sort of concept applies to him I think. Like the way he IS the maze and wants to help but wants to just watch but wants to kill them all. He's just so interestinggggggg. (And another vision of what jon could become?)

 also "es Mentiras" is a beautiful name 💕

So are him and not-Sasha avatars? Not-Sasha also seems completely inhuman and I was under the impression that avatars were (or used to be) human? Or are they like personifications of their power? Do all the powers have personifications of themselves. not-Sasha seems even less human than Michael? Like she seems to just really genuinely enjoy causing fear? Tho I guess we didn't really get to hear a lot of her. She just seemed kinda gleefully angry most of the time we heard from her. Was she... Human once!???

Anyway. Also, can I just talk about leitners line about jon belonging to the eye!!? Just..*chefs kiss* hnnnngg I need more jon grappling with that. I just need more everyone dealing with the fallout post all of the finallies ok? I still need more of jon angsting over his worms scars and stuff and now I also need jon freaking out about belonging to a fear god power thing. 

Also Martin! Is Martin ok? He sure did a lot of yelling which he doesn't usually? Look I love him and he actually thinks before he acts (unlike SOME people *looks at jon*) and he writes poetry and it is pretty good poetry ok!! And he cares about everyone and just wants a happy ending and aaaaa😭

Petition to get some statements from Martin's pov tho? I mean that's not gonna happen cause Jon's the archivist but I want more martin pov!! Maybe we can get some of his poem tapes??? Pls????? 

I feel so bad for Tim. It sounds like he's kinda fallen into despair.

Also Elias!!? Is showing his spooky side!!? He can control cameras and beat a man to death with a pipe!!? This is his "place of powerr"!!? I am afeared!!? At least jon knows he shouldn't trust him now. Oh jeez, I wonder if jon will listen back to the tape and know what happened. Thhhatsss rough. Oh dear, I hope he doesn't feel guilty cause Leitner did keep trying to hurry him and now everyone thinks it was him. Even martin thinks he did it? Wich like I kinda want to hear more of his thoughts on that? How much does he believe that jon did it? Tim certainly seems pretty certain but he's a bit biased and cynical right now so. 

And they were in the maze for DAYS? 

Now I need martin recovering from being stuck with Tim in Michaels maze for days being angry and worried and hungry etc... Dksjdksa knowing jon could be dying RIGHT NOW and there's nothing he can do. Please someone give me the fic links if this exists!! I've already written like 5 drabbles based entirely on spoilers/other fics (which I'll probably post (w/ links to their inspirations) once I'm caught up and can make sure I'm not just completely demolishing cannon lol. 

Leitner didn't even scream or yell or anything when he was murdered. Literally the chillest dude ever. F

Overall super great, Elias is terrifying, let's dive into the next season!!! I've got 2 seasons to finish in like, less than 2 or so weeks(?) if I wana be caught up by season 5 hhhh,,,

Better get started I guess. 

[swimmingnewsie]

Of Coffee and Cookies (Chapter 9)

Feelings are hard.

Link to AO3

---"Can I have my laptop back please? I need to review this article for Dr. Porter."

"It's Saturday and you're feverish. What do you think my answer is going to be?" 

"I don't have a fever anymore."

"You wanna test that theory?".

"You can't test a theory, you can only prove or disprove hypth-"

Before Elsa could finish her argument, Maren stuck the thermometer in her mouth. She heaved a sigh in discontent when the device beeped, playfully rolling her eyes. "100.9. Your hypothesis is incorrect. Now come on, just lay back and cuddle." She wrapped an arm around her girlfriend's shoulders, pulling her blankets tighter. "Drop to 99 and we'll talk about your laptop."

Elsa groaned, resting her head into Maren's shoulder. She was recovering remarkably fast for having three infections raising havoc, but Maren wasn't about to let her relapse due to stress. "99? Mare, I have things to do."

Maren laughed giving her a kiss on her warm forehead. "Then you better get some more rest because you aren't leaving this couch until you're better." Elsa stuck her tongue out at her- part playful, part irritated. "Stick your tongue out all you want. I'm just as stubborn as you, and I can go all day, snowflake."

Elsa sighed, giving into the plea. She was too tired to keep up the fight it seemed. Maren smiled as Elsa shut her eyes, content in listening to the nature documentary they were watching. "We still haven't talked about the other day."

Maren sighed. She knew it needed to be done, but didn't want to push. "Because you're still sick."

"I'm well enough to talk," Elsa retorted, glassy eyes looking up at her. "Anna said it was okay. You should know."

Anna? What did Anna have to do with any of this?

"I'm listening. But if it gets too much you're taking a break."

Elsa gave her a weak laugh. "Ever the chivalrous one, even in our fights." She gave a heavy cough into her blanket before beginning her tale. "You remember how I told you it's just been me and Anna for the longest while? Well, there was someone else..."

Elsa spoke for nearly an hour, sparing no detail. The way Hans and Anna met. Her distaste of the man. Their fast yet long engagement. The cheating. The bruises. The gun. And finally their current problem. Her voice was getting sore and raspy, sounding almost as bad as she had when Maren came by on Thursday. But Elsa refused to stop until everything was out in the open.

"They're having the trial in Denver soon. He appealed the order under the guise of not having a fair trial, that it was too harsh for a first offense. But the reality is, he had a fair trial. He wants his unfair trial. And when your parents are millionaires..."

"The law looks the other way," Maren said sadly. "That's awful. How is Anna doing?"

Elsa shook her head. "I don't think she's doing well. But she won't let me help right now. It's so frustrating," she said before being interrupted by a sneeze.

Maren handed her a tissue. "I bet. It's the worst when someone you love won't let you help them," she said looking at her girlfriend pointedly.

Elsa blushed, her cheeks turning red as her nose. "I'm sorry. I'm trying to work on it." 

Maren gave a small laugh, handing her another tissue as Elsa's nose scrunched up. She was cute, even in her misery. "I know you are. Bless you."

Elsa gave into her exhaustion, curling practically into Maren's lap. "I just wanna help but there's nothing we can do but wait."

Maren ran a hand through Elsa's messy bedhead. "Anna is tough, and so are you. You're gonna get through this. Even if that bastard gets off, he's never touching either of you ever again." It was a big promise to make, she knew. But it was one she intended to keep as long as she could.

Maren sighed, pressing a kiss to her head. "I understand why you didn't want to tell me before, but I want you to know I'm here. For both of you."

Elsa nodded. "I'm sorry I pushed you away. I was scared and didn't know what to do."

"I forgive you. And I'm sorry that I yelled at you and ran away. I let my temper get the better of me."

"Forgive you too," she responded, words slurred in exhaustion. 

Maren smiled at her girlfriend. They were okay. It was time to rest. "I think it's naptime, love." Elsa only responded by bringing the blankets closer to them, her breathing evening out. Maren let a sense of pure bliss overcome her. This was good.

Until it was ruined by the buzzing of her phone causing Elsa to stir.

It was Ryder.

"Hello?" she answered in a whisper.

"Mare? He- he left. I don't know what to do." 

She was going to murder Kristoff.

---

"Okay, okay, okay. Rewind here, mister." Anna was seated on the couch listening as Kristoff explained what happened at the Nattura's house. When she had come home from the store, she found Kristoff pacing back and forth in front of her doorway. "You walk into Ryder's house and hear him talking to his dog, worrying about how he thought you would hate him? You ask him what it is and he tells you he's aromantic? And you leave?"

"That's it in a nutshell." Kristoff ran a hand through his hair, stressed and upset.

"Kristoff, you're an absolute idiot.'

Anna rolled her eyes at her sister. "Thank you for the amazing insight, Elsa. You're being incredibly helpful."

"It's the truth," she murmured, eyes drifting shut. 

Kristoff sighed, continuing to pace. "She isn't wrong. I completely overreacted and ruined everything. But my boyfriend told me he was aromantic which means he doesn't love me and how could he not tell me sooner and- and-"

"And nothing. He just wanted to talk to you," Anna cut him off. "You don't even know what he was going to say. Aromantic does not mean he doesn't love you, dummy."

"Well he probably doesn't now considering my outburst," he said dejectedly.

"You need to talk to him. That's all he wanted to do. So give him that decency." 

Kristoff sighed. She was right. But how did he even go about it? "I doubt if he wants to talk to me now."

"Then let him cool down. Collect your thoughts and talk to him tomorrow. You messed up and now you fix it."

"But what if I can't fix it?"

"Then you did what you could do."

Kristoff sat down on the ground in front of them, staring blankly at the television. How could he have been so stupid? At least there was Anna. Anna who could set his head straight and keep him on track. Anna who was dealing with her own issues but still took the time to help him solve his problems. He didn't deserve her or her friendship.

"Thank you."

Anna waved a hand. "Don't mention it. Help me carry Elsa to bed and we'll call it even."

He smiled. "I can do that."

---

Ryder practically locked himself in the shed for days. Occasionally Maren would drop by with some food or company, but he wasn't much for talking. She would tell him about the kids in her class or about how Elsa had finally kicked her sickness or the drama circulating the teachers' lounge. It wasn't much, but he was thankful for her. 

Her coffee was even from Duckin Donutti's.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't avoiding Mermaids Siren. How could he bear to see the man who made him feel so terrible? He regretted even worrying about Kristoff's feelings considering the way he ran out of the house. It wasn't Kristoff's heart that was broken. It was Ryder's.

A week into his isolationist escapade, faith pushed his hand. He had finished a few of his orders ahead of schedule, and his boss had noticed. And now he was stuck with picking up the coffee orders from Mermaid's Siren. Ryder was not a spiritual man by a long shot, but he prayed to whatever deity was up there that Kristoff wasn't on duty when he arrived.

His disbelief in a deity was further strengthened to say the least. Kristoff was not only working, but working on the register. Damn it.

"Hi."

"Hello."

He needed to play this cool. He had to or else he would start blubbering in the middle of the cafe.

"Haven't seen you in a while."

"Yeah. It's been busy at the shop."

"Lots of orders for Valentine's Day?"

Valentine's Day. In the wake of all this he had forgotten. A day dedicated to the love he couldn't provide Kristoff. A reminder of how broken he felt, no matter what Maren told him.

He nodded and looked down at the list in his hand. "Can I get three grande lattes and one grande of whatever's on tap?"

He watched as the man entered the order in the computer quickly. "Anything else?"

He shook his head, proceeding to pay. "Thanks."

"Have a good rest of your day."

"Thanks."

And that was that, he thought. He had survived. No tears. No yelling. Just a barista and their customer like everyone else.

"Caramel Frappuucino with extra drizzle for Ryder!"

He looked around. There was no one else in the cafe at this time of day. "I didn't order this."

The barista shrugged. "If you don't want it I can toss it. Or you can keep it. Your choice."

Ryder reached out and noticed the note written on the side. 

I'm sorry. I messed up. I miss you. 

"Toss it."

[sparklyjojos]

THE SAIMON FAMILY CASE recaps [11/13]

In which Ajiro finally tells us what’s going on via a long Wordplay Hell, we learn many things about Tensui and the Saimon family, and the author won’t let you forget how much he loves Maijo Otaro. [tw: talk of anti-Korean violence]

--

On September 1st, the detectives are in the middle of their usual work in the Club (though Ajiro for some reason seems to be paying more attention to a TV documentary looking back on the Great Kanto Earthquake). They learn from a phone call that Hyousen’s wife, Shima, died of heart failure. It seems that she grew sick from exhaustion while helping his husband manage the entire Fujita-gumi after Kyuuzou’s passing. It’s worth repeating that her death did not happen on the 19th.

After the funeral, Ajiro heads alone to Hiroshima Prefecture where he was born. Kirigirisu learns from more knowledgeable Arito Tarou that Ajiro actually pays regular visits there, checking on a child that was orphaned during the Ajiro Family Murder Case. Arito doesn’t intend to share any more details.

--

“You know, Kirigirisu,” Ajiro says once he comes back on September 5th, “there’s a lot of people around me who have the kanji for “horse” (馬) in their names.”

Ajiro’s father, who died during that mysterious Murder Case, was called Souma (壮馬). Incidentally, the Tsukumo family member who took care of the hammer sharks was also called Souma (蒼馬), and he had brothers Tsushima (対馬) and Ranma (乱馬). That orphan that Ajiro regularly checks on also has some sort of a name ending in -ma (Kirigirisu isn’t told the exact name, as the Ajiro Family Murder Case is still a confidential L Crime). Even the building where Nihon Tantei Club is located is called Madano (馬多野).

Ajiro doesn’t say what he actually means by pointing this out. Instead he makes a phone call to the journalist Uyama Hideo. Uyama has been investigating the Shiroyasha Case closely and confirms that it’s still going on. He acknowledges with his usual sighing that (oh…) it might be dangerous for him to investigate any further, but (oh, oh…) he’s determined to get to the bottom of this.

After the call, Ajiro says that Uyama would make a fine detective, as his words hid an important hint.

“What word leaves the deepest impression when you listen to Uyama?” he asks Kirigirisu.

“Do you mean… all that oh he’s doing?”

“That’s right. That oh is the key to the case. Or rather, the fact that it’s a repeating oh, oh. Not only that, Uyama’s presence itself hints at the secret behind the case.” Ajiro makes sure they won’t be heard by others in the office before continuing.

First, he explains the Rising Flag Card, the illusion in which a spectator had to choose one of the flags. The truth is, the spectator assisting in the illusion was cooperating with Koyomi—but in a different way than one may expect. He wasn’t a planted assistant, but a so-called impromptu stooge. First, he was chosen from the audience using a quiz that would require a certain level of adult intelligence. The spectator would get on the stage, be asked to select a card, and choose the exact card Koyomi wanted once he saw the magic words written on the table.

The magic words were simply “Please choose the flag of Japan!” and a promise of getting a cool souvenir if he cooperated. Secrets really are that simple sometimes.

For his next explanation, Ajiro pulls out that 500 yen coin gimmick out of his pocket—but wait, why does he have it? Gensui made the coin disappear at the end of his last lecture!

“Kirigirisu, do you still not understand the method even after I’ve just explained it? I was the impromptu stooge in Gensui’s illusion.”

Ajiro performs Change The World: he puts the coin on top of his open left palm, moves his right hand above it, the coin disappears in an instant… and just a moment later falls on the table from above.

The method is once again simple. Ajiro first threw the coin up into his right hand using a sleight called the Muscle Pass. Then, when Kirigirisu was paying attention to the magically empty left hand, Ajiro simply threw the coin in the air.

When Gensui performed Change The World for them, he threw the coin to Ajiro, who hid it in his pocket. As we remember, Ajiro was also an impromptu stooge in the sponge ball multiplication illusion. The magician making someone their accomplice just by giving them a right look is a very fun aspect of magic.

It stops being fun when a similar technique is used by a murderer.

“When we were given the investigation request, in a sense we became assistants chosen from the audience to participate in the illusion. I can’t ignore the possibility that we unwittingly became impromptu stooges, helping the magician do exactly what he wanted.”

“Then… we, who represent the audience, were intentionally shown Yumeji’s murder, were shown that we could be together with the suspects all day and a case would still happen, all so their alibi would be demonstrated to the rest of the audience—the rest of the world…”

“The reason why I reveal the impromptu stooge secret to you today is because I finally decided to confront Gensui. He has to either be the culprit, or at least be involved with them in some way. Uyama’s words inspired me. You see, one time when he said his usual oh, oh, I heard it as houou.”

Houou… and what on earth does that mean? A phoenix? A pope? An emperor turned monk? Kirigirisu can’t guess.

Ajiro doesn’t explain it yet, but adds that Uyama used other hints as well. For example, one time when talking to Ajiro, he mentioned this “Maya” author that he wanted to help debut—not an actual person, rather his concept of an ideal writer. In fact, he dreamed of two writers like that and even already created pen names for them.

One writer’s name would be inspired by the name Uyama Hideo, an anagram of which was maya-o-dehiu, so basically Maya wo debiu— (“let’s have Maya debut”).

The other dream writer, the true personification of Uyama’s ideals and concepts, a writer-y ultimate weapon of sorts, would get Uyama’s oh put in front of the common first name Tarou. Uyama would want for that writer to evoke strong feelings about concepts he loves beyond anything else, ma (“evil influence” or “devil”, also "magic") and ijou (“strangeness”). It would be a bit difficult to make a coherent writer nickname out of all that, but Uyama still longs to find that Outarou of Mai and jou.

...but we’re getting off-topic here. As for this ideal “Maya” writer, Uyama once told Ajiro what seemed like drunken nonsense at the time:

“Oh… I’d like to meet that Maya soon. He’s like a prince for me. Oh... oh, Maya the prince...”

Ajiro still refuses to explain just what on earth could this mean. Instead, he talks about another illusion Gensui showed them, the one with the gimmick pen seemingly penetrating a bill. It seemed like it would work with any place on any normal bill, which leaves two questions. One, why was Gensui so against using a 1000 yen bill? Two, when he did perform the illusion with the 10,000 yen bill from Ajiro, was it just an accident that he aimed the pen between the portrait and the watermark, instead of just having it go through the portrait for a better effect?

As for that second question... maybe there’s a reason why Gensui wouldn’t be able to pierce the portrait. Ajiro shows Kirigirisu two bills, 5,000 yen and 10,000 yen. Both look normal, both with Prince Shoutoku on them as usual, nothing strange.

“I don’t know if Gensui was even aware of what he was doing,” Ajiro says, “but the reason why he couldn’t pierce through the portrait was because he would be stabbing an image of himself. The true identity of Soga Tensui is Shoutoku Taishi.”

Which sounds completely nuts.

But Ajiro seems completely serious, so Kirigirisu has to accept it for now.

“So when you jumped to the occasion to lend Gensui the bill, you were aiming to test this theory?”

“Precisely. The other bill also has its own meaning.” Ajiro points to the 1,000 yen bill that Gensui and his family didn’t want to use, the one with the politician Itou Hirobumi.

Kirigirisu once again has no idea what this means. However, he now realizes that those strange words Ajiro once said about “ambassadors” (taishi) and having “ambition” (also taishi) may have been him dropping clues.

Ajiro starts a lengthy explanation of his reasoning.

--

Shoutoku Taishi is famous for introducing Buddhism to Japan and thus becoming a religious leader of sorts—the word for such a religious leader would be houou.

Uyama’s words about “Oh, oh, Maya the prince” were a hint about “Oh, U-maya-do prince”. Prince Shoutoku’s actual name was Prince Umayado (or Umayato)—Umayado no Ouji or Umayado no Miko (lit. “the Stable Door Prince”).

As for Ajiro’s claim that Uyama’s existence in itself pointed to the solution, the name Uyama Hideo is an anagram of umaya (w)o hide, “came from the stable”. Legend has it that Prince Shoutoku was born in front of a stable, which is where his name Umayado no Ouji came from.

Also, Uyama had that other nickname, Hideomi (日出臣), the kanji possibly referring to “the (land of) rising sun” (日出処) and “minister, subject” (臣). Prince Shoutoku famously wrote in a letter to the Emperor of China: From the sovereign of the land of the rising sun to the sovereign of the land of the setting sun.

Okay, but all those wordplays just link Prince Shoutoku to Uyama. Where's the relation between Shoutoku and Soga Tensui?

First of all, that shrine in which Tensui loves to hide is called Shouryouin (聖霊院). That’s suspiciously similar to Shouryoue (聖霊会), a ceremony held on the anniversary of Prince Shoutoku’s death in Shitennou-ji, a temple built on Shoutoku’s own request.

Oh, and another temple connected to him, Houryuu-ji, has a part actually called Shouryouin—a hall dedicated to Prince Shoutoku’s soul. Another part of Houryuu-ji is Yumedono, the Hall of Dreams that looks highly similar to Tensui’s Shouyrouin and is associated with—you guessed it—Prince Shoutoku.

Shitennou-ji and Houryuu-ji have one Sword of Seven Stars each in their collections, both weapons allegedly having belonged to Prince Shoutoku centuries ago. Shiroyasha’s sword looks awfully similar to them.

As for that entire spiel about names that have a “horse” in them—it also fits the name of Shoutoku’s associate Soga no Umako (蘇我馬子). The historic Soga clan was probably where the name Soga Tensui came from (although it uses different kanji). Considering that Prince Shoutoku had some blood connections to the historic Soga family, he would be a Soga himself.

Kirigirisu can’t help but notice the entire theory is flimsy. What next, are we going to claim that the Club’s own four Young Shitennou are a hint about Shitennou-ji?

Ajiro seems to think that is the case. In fact, if we look at those four, we have two whose names resemble temple names (Raiou-ji and Yakushi-ji), Mikuruma whose first name is read Noritaka, but spelt just like Houryuu(-ji) (法隆), and then Gotou, whose real name is Gojuunotou, “five-storied pagoda”, just like one of the buildings of Horyuu-ji.

“Kirigirisu, meaningful coincidences—messages from God, you could call them—are scattered all throughout this world. It's an undeniable fact that Uyama and our detectives all really exist and are named the way they are. Obviously it's not because some writer came and gave all characters of his novel convenient names. Yes, I know that my grandfather’s reasoning method, mushindenshin, is defined by being able to access “godly knowledge” by freeing oneself from obstructive thoughts, but the phrase doesn’t refer to any actual god. Just to detecting those coincidences—those godsend messages.”

[Mushin can mean both the Buddhist concept of becoming free of obstructive thoughts, as well as simply innocence; I feel like the first definition fits Soujin better, but the second one may fit the book more, considering how much we talked about the relation of childhood innocence and magic.]

Ajiro agrees that even though all the coincidences point to there being a connection between Prince Shoutoku and Soga Tensui, it’s a weak proof. However—

“Kirigirisu, all of this doesn't mean that Soga Tensui actually is Prince Shoutoku. I myself don’t believe that’s the case. What matters is whether or not Soga Tensui himself believes it.”

If Soga Tensui really is convinced he’s Shoutoku, then surely it's not just a coincidence that the Sword of Seven Stars was used as a murder weapon.

When Ajiro talked with Ryuuguu Jounosuke, the boy didn’t want to answer the questions about whether the name Shakuya was related to the Big Dipper, and whether the word shaku had another important meaning. His silence proved that it was indeed a part of yossha no ojisan’s secret. Ajiro explains that aside from a dipper, the word shaku can also mean a ritual baton often seen in portraits of noblemen… for example, held by Prince Shoutoku in his portrait on the bill.

Another hint is that when they met all the children that one day in the winter, Tousen Matoki was pretending to be Prince Shoutoku, as if he got that idea from somewhere. Ajiro thinks it highly possible that Soga Tensui, for whatever reason, told only the children about his “real” identity being Prince Shoutoku. It’s likely that adult members of the family like Taishi have no idea about his belief.

Speaking of whom, Taishi’s first name is of course yet another coincidence leading to Shoutoku Taishi.

But back to what Jounosuke told them, the phrase yossha no ojisan was also a clue: ojisan is similar to ouji-san, “prince”. The young wordician could definitely mix those two meanings together as a form of wordplay.

Then what does the yossha part mean? Ajiro thinks that it was the result of young Jounosuke substituting a better known word for an unusual name: Yoshua…. also known as Jesus.

“Oh my god!” Kirigirisu shouts when he realizes just what that means.

“God indeed,” Ajiro gives him a wry smile. “Jesus Christ himself. Soga Tensui believes himself to be not only Prince Shoutoku, but also Jesus.”

What kind of a ridiculous sect thing did they stumble into?! Prince Shoutoku and Jesus at once…

Ajiro explains that the concept of Shoutoku and Jesus possibly being connected isn’t that new. There’s even a fringe hypothesis that they were one and the same person. After all, there is no definite proof of Shoutoku even being a real historical figure, so maybe all those legends about him were created later. As for Jesus, there’s so many theories about him that some Japanese people insist that he avoided crucifixion by switching places with his younger brother, escaped to Japan, and was buried in the quiet village Shingo. Soga Tensui no doubt made use of that vagueness of history to prop up his belief.

And here’s where another part of their conversation with Jounosuke comes into play. Ajiro asked him about the word juuku, then about Golgo 13. Both these names actually mean the same thing. Golgo 13 references Golgotha, the place of Jesus’s crucifixion. With juuku, you have to imagine both its kanji written vertically, 十 on top of 九... which, if you squint, may look like a cross on top of a hill—Golgotha.

What’s more, nineteen (十九) refers to when all the deaths of the Case happen: the 19th day of every month.

The Saimons live in Shimane Prefecture, the location of the legendary Izumo known as the Land of Gods. According to legends, it's the place where gods would gather (though they were much different gods than Jesus). Their exact gathering place is said to be the shrine Izumo-taisha, more specifically a part of it called Juukusha (十九社)—yet another juuku.

Ajiro at first thought Juukusha could be the only inspiration behind Saimon Juku’s name, but the Golgotha hypothesis was more likely. After all, the phrase juujika no kyuu (“the hill of the Cross”) could be shortened to juu-kyuu, which can be written down as 十九.

There's still one other hidden meaning that Ajiro discovered in words.

The “Land of Gods” (神の国) that Fujita Daisen so passionately spoke about might mean something other than Izumo. When using alternate readings for the kanji of that phrase, kan for “god” (神) and koku for “land” (国), together it would make kan(no)koku = kankoku. The land Daisen wanted to see before his death was kankoku, South Korea (or maybe Korea in general).

“But why would Daisen want to see Korea so much?” Kirigirisu asks.

“Because Korea is where his family is from.”

“Do you mean that Fujita-gumi had a lot of Koreans in it and Daisen’s father Kyuuzou married one of them?”

“No. The Fujitas aren’t of Korean descent. I meant that many people from the other side of Daisen’s family, the Saimons and their relatives, are Zainichi Korean.”

Kirigirisu is utterly baffled by this statement. Didn’t Ajiro himself tell him about how the Saimons had been living in Tsuwano for seven centuries?

Well, Ajiro himself didn’t know the entire truth back then, and what he told Kirigirisu wasn’t technically a lie: the Saimon lineage does reach that far.

However, all three Tamakos are Korean.

As Kirigirisu forgot a lot of basic history due to his amnesia, Ajiro gives him a much needed lecture. [This is told in the same way Ajiro tells it; possible biases are on him and the author.]

--

First, we have to take a look at how the relations between Korea and Japan looked like over the last hundred years. After the incident of 1875 when Japanese soldiers attacked Korean Ganghwa Island, Japan pressed Korea to sign the unequal Japan-Korea Treaty of 1876.

Near the end of the 19th century, a lot of Koreans moved to work in Japan. Among them were namsadang, groups of travelling entertainers performing various circus acts. The three Tamakos were a part of one such group. They did a lot of shows in Japan’s coal mine towns, and it happened that two owners of these mines—a Tsukumo and a Tousen—along with their Saimon friend set their eyes on the three Tamakos, and then essentially bought them for marriage. The love-struck men used their riches to establish the Soga Tenju Troupe for their wives.

Soon, things started getting worse for Korea, until finally Japan annexed it with the Japan-Korea Treaty of 1910.

Korean people faced many human rights violations at that time. Japanese police killed thousands of Korean protesters during the March 1st Movement in 1919. Thousands more were massacred in the aftermath of the Great Kanto Earthquake in 1923, when false rumors claimed that Korean residents would poison wells or commit arson.

During World War II, huge numbers of Koreans were forcibly relocated to Japan to serve as laborers and soldiers, and at least a hundred thousand Korean women were brought into sex slavery as “comfort women”. The policy called soushi-kaimei came into effect, pushing Korean citizens to change their names to Japanese ones in order to facilitate assimilation. Teaching the Korean language and history in schools was eventually prohibited, and visits to Shinto shrines were compulsory no matter the faith.

After the War, Soviet Union occupied the north of Korea, while USA occupied the south. In 1950, North Korea invaded South Korea attempting to unify the country under its rule. The Korean War reached a stalemate in 1953, leaving the two Koreas still separate. 

(The narration, which unlike our detectives knows the future, adds that this armistice is still in effect in the early 2000s, but efforts are being made to officially end the Korean War, for example with the 2000 Inter-Korean Summit.)

[And we, the readers from 2020, may add that even more efforts to resolve the conflict are being made lately, many summits between the leaders of both Koreas and US going on since 2018.]

--

“Then… boss, could the motive behind the Saimon Family Case have something to do with the past events between Japan and Korea?” Kirigirisu asks, moved to tears by all the bloody history he just heard about for the first time (or at least for the first time since his amnesia).

“I can’t say for sure, but the possibility is high.”

Then… If we assume Soga Tensui really is the culprit, what exactly is the motive? It's true that both Gensui and Tensui are Japanese by descent [as in, none of the Tamakos and presumably no other Korean person can be found among their close ancestors, see the family tree]. Then again, Tensui’s closest ones are descended from one of the Tamakos; his wife Miku could count as being third generation Zainichi, and his son Juku as fourth generation. [I'm not sure if the term Zainichi would actually apply here, but this is how Ajiro uses it. Note that by his definition, Nemu and Yomiko are also fourth generation.]

Out of the twelve victims of the Case so far, nine were of Korean descent (the remaining three being Daisen, Daisetsu and Kyuuzou).

The question is once again: who is targeting who?

In Kirigirisu's mind, it looks more and more like Soga Tensui isn’t actually the culprit, but one of the targets. Someone from outside may be trying to destroy the entire giant family.

However, Ajiro still seems certain that Soga Tensui is involved in the Case.

Ajiro continues his explanations. Everyone from the family except for the three Tamakos is by law considered Japanese in the family register, and the entries for each Tamako were apparently lost after the war. Basically, there is no easy way for an outsider to learn about their roots. As a part of a marginalized and often persecuted group, the Saimons prefer to keep their identity a secret from everyone, even from close friends like Ajiro.

Ajiro only learned about the family’s roots after Shiranui's detective friend dug out the information, but he had already suspected it based on multiple clues.

For example, the reason why the Circus received a warm welcome touring between coal mine towns could be in part because a lot of mine workers were Korean.

All those posters in the local bar portrayed celebrities of Korean descent, and the bar owner was Zainichi himself—in fact, all of the members of the hiking club except Daisen were. The word for that hiking club, sengakukai (山岳会), could even be a pun on “Korean mountain association” (鮮岳会).

Nagasaki-kai, the group that was once friendly towards Fujita-gumi, had a lot of Koreans in their midst, and their name could also be either a pun or a coincidence. “Nagasaki” wasn't written the same way as the city, but used another spelling (長先) that could also be read as chousen, “Korea”. As Ajiro explains, many Koreans in Japan enter yakuza because of their life circumstances. Many work in places such as pachinko parlors or yakiniku restaurants, and it’s very possible that it was the good relations with Nagasaki-kai that allowed non-Koreans Hyousen and Daisen to be granted supervision of respectively the parlors and the restaurants.

Another clue is related to the Saimon family’s two dogs, Koma and Ria. The name Koma comes  from komainu, the stone guardian lion-dogs at Shinto shrines. While the spelling changed over time, the term komainu originally translated to just “Korean dog”. The wordplay behind the name Ria is harder to guess: one word for a dog is wanko, and this particular wanko is named Ria. It’s therefore wanko Ria, or should we say: “One Korea”, something precious that was lost to time.

Other, maybe less probable details about the family also come to mind. For example, Ajiro thinks their unusual beauty could have been inherited from Korean ancestors, and Miku’s unusually tasting dishes were not the product of her inability to cook, but of her having a different palate than most Japanese people.

Even the magic show provided clues about the family's past: the Rising Flag Card changing from the Korean one to the Japanese one wasn’t a random choice.

The reason why the Saimons never use the 1,000 yen bill is because it portrays the first Resident-General of Korea, Itou Hirobumi, who approved the Korean annexation in 1909.

--

And so we have arrived at the following conclusions: the three Tamakos are Korean, many of the Saimons and their relatives are Korean-Japanese… and oh, right, Soga Tensui is convinced that he’s Prince Shoutoku and Jesus at the same time.

The question is, what on earth does all that mean for the Case?

--

[>>>NEXT PART>>>]

[lokis-lady-death]

Bake-tastic One

Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Lady Death: I tagged anyone I thought might be interested! Just a simple two part story about a girl meeting a man and baking some cupcakes.  I did this by request for a super awesome mutual’s birthday! @kcd15 I hope you enjoy it, I’m so sorry it’s late but you get two parts for being so patient <3 Hope you enjoy!

Bake-tastic

Step One: Introductions

“Don't Stop Believin’  by Journey,” you recognized immediately. “Good choice.” There was no hiding the delight on your face as you laid back in your chair, slipped on your sunglasses, and sang along to the tune.

You couldn't help but think this is how everyone should spend a day off, lounging on a balcony in California, dazing in and out of a mid-day nap to the sound of soulful tunes on the perfect playlist.

It was such a cliche spring morning, really. The sky was that bright shade of blue with sparse clouds, the breeze blew just enough that it kept the air at the right temperature. The city was even more peaceful than usual, with birds chirping, kids playing and hardly any cars passing by your condominium. The only real sound you heard was the music emanating from your neighbor's place above your head.

The main reason you enjoyed these days? Frankly, you needed the distraction. You were a full time barista at a local big bakery that catered to the cupcake-addicted southern L.A. day walkers and all you wanted was to unwind. Bake-tastic, despite its horrifically punny name, was actually an up and coming hangout spot that was making a name for itself among the baked goods industry.

The only problem?

You weren't baking.

Growing up in the south, you had loved everything about baking since you were a little girl in your grandmother’s kitchen, playing in her aprons and sneaking off with her cookbooks, but it wasn't until when you sister asked you to move to move to Cali  that you decided to act on your passion.

But, as it turned out, if you want to bake here, you needed experience. Experience no one was willing to give you. All you had managed to do was make coffee and take orders for cakes and other treats you weren’t allowed to actually create.

That honor was left to the owner of the bakery, a man whom, in your months of working there, had never once come in during the day shift. You never met the mysterious baker, but couldn’t deny his talents the first time you tried his mixed berry tarte. Everything he created was a miniature masterpiece all their own. You wanted desperately tk meet him, or even more, bake with him, but that was a quickly squashed dream. He kept to himself, prefering to come after closing to bake everything throughout the night. The next morning, when you and your coworkers would arrive, all you would need to do was set out the new baked goods and make coffee. The others were fine with the remedial tasks, but you were not.

It wasn’t necessarily living the dream, but the music had a nice way of dulling out the disappointment.

If your sister had been out there she would be complaining about it, but truthfully you enjoyed your little free concerts. It required no work on your part and in today's world, you could use some mindless way to unwind. It wasn't long before you recognized a pattern in when the music played: usually in the afternoons of week days, stopping promptly at seven, Saturday morning and most of Sunday. Not particularly meaning to, you began to plan breaks outside around when the neighbor would have their music on. It had become a sort of ritual: weekdays when you got off work you would shower, throw on your bathrobe, and come lounge until seven. On weekends, you spent your mornings sipping coffee in your pajamas.

This Saturday was no different. Right at six in the morning, the neighbor's sliding door opened, releasing a symphony of classic rock music out into the world. Here you were, ready to soak it up as you sang out the stress of your week through lyrics of musical geniuses with a cup of coffee in one hand and a freshly made strawberry Danish in the other.

It was around thirty minutes later, as you were going along to Matchbox Twenty’s 3am that your tone began to carry. By the second verse you had gotten a bit carried away, singing along and dancing in your chair as the words you had known by heart for nearly two decades came pouring out. You had become some enamored by the words that you didn't even notice the music had been turned down.

When the next song began, you took in one last deep breath of spring air, stretching your arms up above your head until you heard that satisfying pop of your shoulders. You had been rejuvenated and were ready for whatever the rest of your Saturday brought.

But just when you turned to walk back into the apartment, you heard someone ask, “Oh, are you going in already?”

There was no stopping the loud curse word from escaping your lips as you tried to pull yourself back into your skin. Whipping around, you expected to see a man to go along with that sharp comment.

Yet you were alone, left only with the sound of a haughty laugh.

“I'm terribly sorry, I certainly didn't mean to frighten you.” You distinctly noticed the smart British accent as he went on, “It's just that I had been listening to you sing so I thought I ought to say something….”

Your face felt it had caught fire by embarrassment of someone, a stranger- a possibly handsome British stranger- had heard you singing. A hand slapped over your mouth to stifle a gasp.

You were so mortified you could scream, but there was also a part of you curious how much he had heard.

When you still didn't respond, the englishman went on, “She's gone and I'm here talking to myself, aren't I?”

“No,” you couldn't help but laugh nervously, “I'm still here.”

“Good. I'd look rather mad out here going on to an invisible woman, wouldn't I?”

The two of you shared a laugh, followed by an unfortunate silence before he added, “It seems we have a similar taste in music. You know just about every song I ever play.”

Again your cheeks went ablaze.

“I mean, it's not like I just come out here and listen to you, that would be absurd. It's just, you come out here nearly every time I turn on my ipod, surely you noticed?”

You realized it was the same neighbor who played the music every day. Biting down on your lip, you stopped from admitting you planned your free time at home around when he turned his tunes on. The two of you were starting to sound like either a cheap romance movie from Hallmark channel or a murder documentary off Investigative Discovery .

When you still hadn't spoken up, he rambled on. “That possibly came across a bit awkward, I didn't mean it as though I'm just out here listening to you…” he corrected. “I only meant I enjoyed what I've heard.”

At that you had to smile.  His tone was sincere enough, even a tad cute as he tripped over himself, but with that accent alone he sent a flutter through your stomach.

‘Is that what I'm reduced to?’ you wondered, ‘Pining after men because of accents?’

“I haven't heard you leave, does that mean I didn't completely ruin this first impression?”

At that, you couldn't keep quiet. “Your first impression was actually Bruno Mars That's What I Like,” you teased, almost annoyed with how airy your voice came out.

Maybe it was because he wasn't in front of you or maybe it was because his voice just oosed with charm, but there was something else that just pulled at you.

“Well, was it a good impression?”

Your smile widened. “It's improved.”

He let out a roar of a laugh, even clapping his hands at the retort. “That's good," he paused," I don't suppose you'll be back out today?"

The question struck you, making you bite down on the inside of your cheek.

“We'll see,” you said finally. “It'll depend on what you play.”

“I suppose I'll have to make the playlist extra special then, won't I?” he returned, a touch of smugness etching into his tone.

You smiled again, opening the door to step back into your apartment as you tried to answer as nonchalantly as possible, “I suppose you will.”

As soon as you closed the door, you bolted to your sister's room to wake her up.

You threw her door open as you called out, “Steph? Hey, Steph, do you know the guy that lives in the upstairs apartment? Steph, wake up!”

She rubbed her eyes, letting out a deep yawn just before stretching out her back like a cat. “What guy? The loud one?”

Your eyes rolled back while you grunted, “Yes! Do you know what his name is?”

Her shoulders shrugged, her eyes lulled in a half sleep, half hungover state. “He is simply known as Loud British Jerk.”

Your brow creased, “How do you not know his name but you know he's British?”

“Because he talks, like, super loud and always has his doors open.”

Reasonable answer, but your sister was also one of the single most nosey women you had ever known. You leaned in, pressing on, “What else do you know about him?”

“Nothing? Jeeze, y/n, I don't eavesdrop on people anymore. What's gotten into you, did he play a song that got your panties all ruffled? You wanna go bake him granny's old apple turnover and tell him you like his butt? ”

“First off that's not even the phrase you think it is, second I think a simple yes or no would suffice.”

Going to stand up, sure that it was a waste of time to expect her help, Steph took your hand.

“Geeze, sorry, didn't realize you were so worked up. Come on, sit.” You sat down on the side of her bed while she scooted up on her pillow to better reach her cellphone. “Look, I'll text Lexi, she works down at the pool, she knows all the hot guys who live here.”

You couldn't help but scoff, “Thanks, I guess?”

“So you know what that means? If she doesn't know his name, he's not hot.”

She offered you her cheesiest, exaggerated wink she could muster, earning a short snort out of you before you shook your head. “I need to go take a shower, I guess let me know if she says anything.”

“Alright, and I'll see if I can pull him up on social media.”

You walked out to the pleasant sound of Steph texting her friend, knowing soon you might have a name to go with that voice you couldn't get out of your head.

*****

Tom had been outside listening to you for over thirty minutes before he had mustered up enough courage to actually say something to you.

It wasn't something he had particularly planned, though he had meant to speak to you sooner. The thing was, he wasn't from around there and there were certain normalities he didn't quite understand.

Certain ones were less socially involved, such as driving on the wrong side of the road, the use of American made cars verses the German models he bad grown up with.

But it was earlier that week when Chris, his Australian work friend, came by to go over a project they were collaborating on that he noticed his social cues might need some help.

They had just been discussing an upcoming book deal they were working on together when Tom suddenly quieted his friend before reaching for his Ipod to turn the music down.

“What are you-”

“Shhh,” Tom instructed with a finger pressed to his confused friend's lips. “Listen.” He held a hand to his ear, cut his eyes towards the open balcony doors and smiled. “Don't you hear it?”

Chris furrowed his brow but did what he was told, just a bit less enthusiastically. After a minute he finally answered, “Singing?”

“Yes, but more than that. What else?”

“Well she clearly doesn't know the words to Smells Like Teen Spirit.”

“No!” Tom corrected sharply. “Can't you hear it? You can practically feel her soul coming out in these words. It's just so real, so… Refreshing.” His back turned and he began filling his mother's old kettle with water, going on, “She does it every day, just goes outside and sings along to my music. It's the most peculiar thing.”

“I sing along to the radio all the time, you never say nice things to me about it?”

“Yes, but this is different. She's coming outside to sing to MY music.”

“And?”

“And? And?!” Tom three his hands into the air, going on, “And, he says.” There was a silence between the two of them as the song cut off and the singing stopped. Tom set the kettle on the stove and turned back to face the still creased-browsed Chris. “I don't know, it's just nice to me, I suppose.”

It was now time for Chris to speak and he really just didn't know where to begin. “So you interrupted me telling you how much money we are about to make on this cookbook deal because you were listening to your neighbor sing to herself?”

“When you say it like that it sounds ridiculous.”

“That's exactly what it is!”

“Oh no, it's not like that. She does it all the time, it's kind of like our thing.”

Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and Inhaled sharply. “Your thing, eh? And who is this lucky young lady that you eavesdrop on a daily basis?”

“Eavesdrop?” he laughed but wasn't smiling. “I'm, no, I'm not eavesdropping, I'm just simply appreciating someone else's ability to let go. It's no different than listening at a karaoke bar. ” His confidence lessened when he quietly remarked, “Also, I don't know her name.”

“Have you even spoken to her?”

“No, we haven't the chance…”

“You know she's outside every single day, what do you mean there wasn't a chance?”

Tom's mouth opened to oppose but no words ever materialized. Slowly he closed his mouth and swallowed a lump in his throat. “I should talk to her then?”

“In the very least introduce yourself, what harm would it do? You never talk to the hot girls I hire for you at the bakery, the least you can do is talk to one that for whatever reason you started stalking her. Talk about music.”

Fast forward to the day he actually managed to speak to you. Now, after making a complete arse of himself, he didn't know if you would ever come outside again and what was worse he didn't even remember to tell you his name.

"Perhaps that's for the best," he reasoned, "I could still mend this first impression."

After he knew you had left, he bolted inside to find his phone. He texted Chris what happened and waited impatiently for him to respond with:

~Actually, about that neighbor girl, I got a REALLY interesting call from Lexi you may wanna know about~

Tom’s brow furrowed at the comment, curiously asking what he heard.

He called him and  nearly fell out of his chair at the news.

*****

The steam of your shower had filled up your room by the time you came sashaying out. With a towel around your waist, you planted yourself down at your desk and opened up your laptop. Just as you opened the web browser, Steph can barging in.

“Y/N!”

Your hands went up instinctively to cover your chest, cursing out, “What the hell!”

“I got it!” she exclaimed, “And you are just gonna DIE!”

“His name, you got his name?” Your grin stretched from ear to ear as you pressed further, “Well? What is it?!”

“I can do one better,” she teased, holding her Tiffany blue phone out for you to see. “I found him on Facebook, and Look!”

You had to lean back for the up close image to fully resonate with your retinas, but when you got a good glimpse, you took the phone from her hand and stared.

It was his profile picture, a face to go along with that voice. The image only showed him from the waist up, dressed in jeans and a white button up, but to you it showed enough. His eyes stood out immediately, a striking seafoam blue that sparkled along with the toothy grin he offered the camera. His hair was a strawberry blonde that was neatly trimmed but still long enough to curl. High cheekbones, sun-kissed skin, along with the more than sunny backdrop of his photo painted a portrait of an outdoorsy, fun loving sort of guy. Looking at him while imaging that velvety English accent sent a shiver down your toes that you couldn't hide.

“A total babe, right?” your sister beamed. “And judging by his profile, he's single!”

You swallowed hard. “That, yeah, that's awesome.” It felt like he was staring back at you through the photo, and finally you made yourself scroll over to see his name. “Tom,” you said out loud with a smile.

Steph reached over and took her phone from you, offering you, “I haven't even told you the best BEST part. My friend is dating his friend and guess what?”

You stared at her, blank faced. “What?”

“He’s the guy who owns Bake-tastic! This is the guy you’ve been pining over since you moved here!”

You looked over at your laptop, thinking about how many times you wondered what the mysterious baker must look like, googling and yet failing to ever find any remnants of him. Judging by his way with sweets, you honestly expected a thicker, maybe older gentleman, not someone worthy of being a model.

But that’s not what you saw.

Looking him over, taking it all in, realizing it was his playlist you had been listening to all this time, his pastries you had been idolizing, you wondered if maybe this was a sign.

“You know what you gotta do right?” your sister asked with a playful grin.

“What?”

She scoffed as if the answer was obvious. “You gotta go bake with him!”

At that, you made a sour face, shaking your head at the very notion. “No, he doesn’t like teaching and he certainly wouldn’t want a novice messing up a days’ worth of work. No, I’m not doing that-”

“Oooo, that’s too bad,” Steph ached, her face not reflecting the sympathy her voice tried to persuade. “Because I definitely told my friend to ask about you helping out in the bakery.”

“You WHAT?”  

As it turned out, Steph’s friend Lexi was dating Chris Hemsworth, a well known heir of the Hemsworth Lodging hotels. His image was the only one you could ever come across in your searches for Bake-tastic's ownership. He made donations to various organizations and raised money for charities, but what wasn't oublically as well known was his investments he made in his friends.

Tom just happened to be one of those friends, a baker in need of a bakery. So, Chris forked up the money and Tom got straight to work, building a name for himself in L.A. while Chris managed the business side of it. The only issue for Tom was he felt very out of place in such a large city, even as diverse at it was. Nothing about it ever quite felt like home, so rather than branch out into the world, he worked late hours and insisted on solitude.

It felt bizzare hearing the story from Steph, but it made you feel better when she assured you Chris and Tom didn’t know all the details about you.

“I just said my friend’s sister is an aspiring baker and would love to, like, shadow Mr. Hiddleston or whatever. I gave them your name, but only because you work at the bakery,” Lexi assured when you called to ask exactly what happened. “Chris was more than happy to ask Tom if he was willing to show you around his kitchen and he said for you to come tonight.”

“Tonight?” you exploded, realizing you hadn’t the mental preparation needed to meet the British bombshell of a baker  after that awkward balcony encounter. “What if he knows it’s me?”

“He’s never met you, just listened to you sing a few lame songs. How would he know it’s you?”

*****

“Oh, it’s definitely her,” Chris repeated over the speaker phone to Tom. “See, here, I’ll forward you her info.”

Tom stared blankly at the Facebook page, gazing into your eyes as he matched it with the voice he had heard earlier that day. His phone dinged as he received a forwarded email from Chris containing your original job application to Bake-tastic as well as a copy of your driver's license.

“That is just too much of a coincidence, surely you’re pulling my leg?” Tom snipped, shaking his head. But looking down at your image, he hoped it wasn’t foolish to want it to be true. “And she wants to bake with me?”

“Lexi made it clear, she came to California to be a baker and she loves everything you make in the shop. And the best news? She already has a serious crush on you! I’m telling you, if you want to make a better first impression on this woman, you need to let her work with you tonight.” When he didn't immediately agree, Chris added, "I already told her to be there at six, all you have to do is show up and be charming."

Tom inhaled sharply, staring at the image a bit longer before finally conceding.

*****

You had gone through numerous outfits while you tried to figure out what you were going to wear. Jeans, skirts and leggings were all thrown around your room, shirts crumbled up on the floor, shoes spilled out of your closet as you tossed pair after pair aside.

Your sister had finally come and picked out something for you: a loose fitting blue t-shirt dress with gray closed toe wedges. "Not too dressed up to work in a kitchen, but nice enough to hopefully get a callback from your impromptu date," Stroh said, stepping back to admire her creation. "AND IT HAS POCKETS!"

"It's not a date, it's a baking lesson if anything," you corrected, though after you put your hands in the pockets and did a twirl, you had to admit your heart was fluttering at the idea of an all night cooking session with Tom.

However, when it was finally time for you to leave, you started choking up. "I can't," you started spatting off over and over." I can't, this is a bad idea, what if I mess up one of his recipes? What if I embarrass myself? What if I use salt instead of sugar?" your eyes widened, "What if he doesn't like me?"

"You'll be fine, just do what you always do!" When you still looked unsure, she went on, "You're great, y/n, and he'd be an idiot not to see it. A beautiful, British idiot. " Steph offered you a sincere smile, enough to spur you on. "And for the love of everything decent, please flirt!"

You swallowed hard, did one last look over in the mirror, then grabbed your purse and made the fifteen minute walk down the block to the bakery.

When you arrived, the main store front had the lights off, but from the kitchen door you could see a faint illumination.

Tom was just beyond that light.

Repeating, "I can do this," to yourself, you walked through the front door, setting off the gentle ding of the bell that alerted staff of a customer arriving.

“Hello?” you called out, unsure if you had the right time. Looking down at your phone, you were only a couple of minutes early so rather than wait in the doorway, you went on in. Your mind began urging, begging, pleading for you to turn back. It’s not too late, it said, go ahead, high tail it out of here.

‘No. I have to do this,’ you pushed on. ‘I have to know what’s beyond that door.’

Mustering up the courage, feeling something in the pit of your soul tell you this was right, you called out again, “Hello? Mr. Hiddleston? I'm here to, uh, help for tomorrow's set up?"

A loud, disembodied voice came from the kitchen, “Yes, come into the back! And lock that door, won’t you? Don’t need anyone walking in off the street.”

You swallowed, feeling your heart begin to pound as you set the lock. Slipping your phone in the pocket of your dress, you tucked your purse under the cash register before walking back towards the kitchen.

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