#I had the chance to see it in theaters last month and was stunned by its beauty

[elitadream]

A friend. 🌅

[hekateinhell]

For Dungeon Anon. ♥️ Inspired by some of the stuff that's been going in my ask box lately lmao.

Teenage delinquents Lestat and Armand are dating Louis together while navigating their own situationship, when Louis leaves them to their own devices for two weeks and certain permanent decisions are made.

Modern Human AU, Lestat/Armand/Louis (Louis is there in spirit and also to dom through FaceTime), 5k, rated E (oral sex, video stuff, Lestat's praise kink makes an appearance). X-posted to the ao3 because this is lot for me (RIP).

9:02 PM: I'm bored. Everyone else's gone, come hang out if you want?

9:12 PM: K.

K?

What did "K" even mean? "K, you're bored"? "K, I'm coming over"? "K, I got the text"?

Lestat rolled over, phone on his stomach, annoyed and out of sorts. Leave it to Armand to say everything and nothing at once.

Were his bedroom lights always this bright?

It was never easy when Louis wasn't around. Lestat knew who he was with Louis; he more or less knew what Louis was with Armand, and he knew what he and Armand were with Louis around. But like this, on their own for the first time when Mrs. de Pointe du Lac had inexplicably decided her kids could stand to miss two weeks of school to visit her family in New Orleans. Sick Grand-mère perhaps, Lestat couldn't remember.

–

"Try and spend some time together. Please. Get to know each other without me," Louis had whispered to them both as he pulled away from Lestat's embrace to kiss Armand outside his apartment building while his sister slammed the Taxi trunk shut. "Please? For me?" he squeezed one of their hands in each of his, smiling the demure smile that he knew made them both weak in the knees and tight in the pants.

"Of course, anything for you, my love," Armand, damn him, beat Lestat to the punch.

Disgustingly, cloyingly sweet.

"Yes, yes, of course," Lestat acquiesced, stealing a last kiss for himself as Armand rolled his eyes and not-so-subtly kicked at his ankle with a combat boot. The little gremlin.

Lestat was of the opinion he spent plenty of time with Armand – too much, in fact! Armand on the other side of Louis during class, at lunch, on the steps of their school! Even every Sunday in Louis's bedroom, a 'shared day' when time didn't lend itself to being split neatly down the middle.

An experiment, was what Lestat had told himself as a consolation.

A few months of this before it all came to a head. Armand had cornered him alone in the music room, veritably hissing about how Lestat was purposely trying to shove him aside and drive a wedge between him and Louis and that he, Armand, wasn't going to allow it. Almost comical it had been, what with Armand's head barely reaching Lestat's chest on a good day, and he'd still managed to back him into a wall like a rabid little raccoon.

At first, it had been funny, but then it was simply ventured on annoying. Lestat had had Louis first, after all! Yes, fine, they had technically been "on a break" when Louis met Armand. And yes, there was that little aggravating detail of Louis insisting that he would only give Lestat a second chance if he were still permitted to date Armand. Lestat had given his trademark jovial, "Oh, course, mon chèri!" So confident was he that Armand would be yesterday's news by the end of the week.

But that hadn't happened, and now he had 5'6, 125 lbs of cranky Eastern European theater kid on his ass.

He couldn't hit him, it wouldn't be a fair fight, and the brat would probably spin it to Louis to make himself look like the victim. Never one to back down, Lestat had done the second next-best thing. He'd grabbed Armand's jaw tight in his hand, stunning him into silence, and bent down to kiss him as violently and punishingly as he could - the way he never dared to nor desired to do to Louis. Not a single loving touch in it.

"There, finally shut you the fuck up," Lestat murmured as he caught his breath, delighting in how bruised and busted Armand's already plump lips looked now.

See him complain to Louis about this.

Armand blinked those dark eyes at him, processing the words he'd spoken but making no move to pull away. Something akin to hurt flickered across his face, at the same time he shifted from one leg to the other, and Lestat smiled when he realized exactly why.

The second kiss was a lot gentler, sweeter, wetter, almost as though Lestat were trying to repair the damage he'd done with the same instrument that had done it – his lips.

Armand's hand came up to tangle in Lestat's hair, grinding himself against his thigh as he moaned while his other came to rest over his crotch, squeezing Lestat's raging hard-on through his jeans. Kissing Armand was so different to kissing Louis... Each person always so unique. Armand's mouth was smaller yet more commanding, aggressive yet simultaneously yielding, the cool silver stud in his tongue bumping against Lestat's top teeth with every delicious back-and-forth push and pull.

Didn't realize what was happening until Armand suddenly shuddered and broke away to slump forward, pressing his head to Lestat's bicep as he finished trembling through his orgasm.

A bit of an awkward moment until Lestat's cock decided to remind them both of its rather prominent presence and twitch against Armand's hand.

"I didn't..." Lestat panted, "I haven't..."

Swore he felt Armand smile against his skin. "Give me a second," he squeezed again for emphasis, "I'll take care of it."

And so he had, rather spectacularly – no gag reflex that one – while smugly maintaining eye contact the entire time. He knew how good he was. Louis knew how good he was. And now Lestat did too.

–

Fuck.

The doorbell ringing snapped Lestat out of his reminiscences. "Shit," he mumbled, quickly adjusting himself to right the situation going on in his leather pants just now, thanks to the memory from two months ago.

Think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts... Don't think about what we've done together, with Louis, since then.

"Hi," Armand looked almost shy for a moment, backing up a few steps so he didn't have to tilt his chin up to look into Lestat's face.

Lestat's instinct was to kiss him, depravedly, right there in the doorway where the neighbors and God might see. But they weren't dating, nor were they even established fuck buddies. A handshake would be too formal, a slap on the shoulder too "bro." He wasn't used to seeing Armand without Louis as a buffer; he'd never actually had to greet Armand as his own person before.

Armand made the decision for him, leaning up to press a quick kiss to the short, day-old scruff along Lestat's jawline before dropping back down and stepping into the house as though it weren't his first time there.

"So... What do you want to do?"

There were several things Lestat wanted to do, to him, just then. But most, if not all, of them would defeat the purpose of "getting to know each other" the way they had promised Louis that they would.

"I still have some booze? We could hit that and throw on a movie?"

Armand gave him a funny look, one Lestat couldn't quite decipher. "You invite me to the afterparty but not the party?"

Oh.

"I wouldn't call it a party," Lestat ran his fingers through his hair, tugging on the ends the way he did when he was starting to get uncomfortable. "Just me and the guys from band, you know. I didn't think you'd vibe with them."

The truth was he hadn't thought about Armand at all. Lestat wasn't a fan of his worlds colliding.

"But Louis 'vibes' with them, yes?"

It's a trap; Lestat can feel it as he's walking right into it.

"Occasionally, maybe. He's very easygoing!"

Armand scoffed. "Louis, easygoing? Just how high are you right now?"

"What's the fucking point of this conversation anyway, Armand?" Lestat's patience quickly found its end. "I invite you over, and you're being bitchy because I didn't ask you to hang out with my friends that I know you'd hate?"

"I'm 'bitchy' because you always act like you're ashamed to be seen around me!"

Oh.

"That's not-! I'm not-!" Not sober enough to even be thinking of having this conversation is what Lestat was.

He's about to tell Armand to forget it and go home; he'll sleep this off and text him in the AM.

"Where's the booze? I want to get messed up."

Gabrielle wasn't home, and wouldn't be home until Monday. She didn't care. Who did?

"Down that way, cabinet on the right."

Armand's a lot sweeter when he's drunk, kissing at Lestat's face and collarbone in an overly excitable, almost childlike way as he bounced on the bed.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, staring into Lestat's eyes before bursting into a fit of giggles. "You should fuck me."

Lestat choked on the bottle. "Yeah, I don't think so." The look on Armand's face... "Not that I don't want to," Lestat hurried to correct his mistake, "I’d want you to remember it, you know? I've been told I am quite the experience." Couldn't resist punctuating that statement with a wink.

Armand snorted, his humor making a quick recovery. "Oh, I'm sure."

Lestat took another swig and passed the bottle. "Have you done it yet?"

"'It'? Really, Lestat? Am I a virgin? Have I fucked, banged, screwed, you mean?"

"Jesus. Yes, that's what I meant! I know we fool around, and I imagine you do the same kind of things with Louis when it's just the two of you."

Bitter, bitter thought.

"But are you a virgin?"

"Why do you want to know?" Armand seemed defensive all of a sudden, peering at him in that creepy, unblinking way that Lestat found vaguely threatening.

Something-something unpredictable and unsettling.

"No reason," he shook his head. "Just curious, that's all. And quit looking at me like that! It's very off-putting."

Rather than being insulted, Armand appeared to take it as a compliment. He smiled and leaned back against the headboard, satisfied. "Good, you should be put off."

"You literally just asked me to fuck you!" Lestat's booming laugh sounded more incredulous than anything else.

Armand stared down at his jeans, worrying at the seams of the dark gray denim.

"To answer your question: no, I'm not a virgin, but also, I have never..." He trailed off, his gaze darting around the room before settling on the helm of Lestat's maroon t-shirt as he lay propped up beside him.

Never what?

"Never what, Armand?"

"Forget it." He lifted the bottle to Lestat's mouth, tilting it back and holding it in place for him when he accepted. "Let's do something fun, yeah?"

Lestat nodded as he chugged the equivalent of three shots before pushing the bottle away, ran a hand down Armand's inner thigh, and reached over to kiss and suck at his throat.

Armand liked it, and Lestat liked doing it. "I do you and you do me?" he asked, having had yet to find his groove with Armand when Louis wasn't in bed with them, telling them what to do to each other.

Armand sighed as his hand curved over Lestat's shoulder, clearly finding the prospect attractive. Lestat already had a hand under the mesh top, grazing the soft hairs on Armand's lower abdomen, dipping two fingers below the waistband, ready to yank down his pants and slide into position when-

“Wait,” Armand smacked at his back and Lestat groaned in frustration, burying his face onto the giant paisley pattern on the duvet beside Armand’s hip, keeping his fingers right where they were until further notice.

"You're killing me, Armand. You're really killing me," he grumbled, humping the bed once for good measure – which predictably had the opposite of the intended effect and did nothing to alleviate the problem.

Armand shoved his shoulder this time, hard. “And you’re so melodramatic! Are you this whiny when it’s just you and Louis? Unbelievable.”

Lestat peered up at him through his hair, trying to force his body to cooperate with his brain and vice versa. “He likes it,” he countered back, feeling and sounding not unlike a chastised child. “Now, getting back to business,” he adjusted to nestle his forehead against Armand’s ribcage, “Was that ‘Wait, let’s pause,’ or ‘Wait, let’s stop’?”

A pause.

“It was a ‘Wait, let’s FaceTime Louis and let him watch.’”

Lestat scrambled up as though Armand had said, “The house is on fire.”

“You little minx… That’s fucking brilliant.”

Armand beamed at his approval, a tad too pleased with himself. "Here, call him," he shoved Lestat's own phone in his direction.

“Don’t boss me around,” Lestat quipped, as he did just what Armand had ordered, hitting the video call button and listening to it ring.

“Please. You like it,” Armand countered, ducking as Lestat made to grab his hair in response.

Declined.

“Ouch.”

“Oh, shut up, you little devil! I’m sure he hit the wrong button by mistake. Louis doesn’t decline my calls.”

Declined.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Smack!

“Did you just hit me?”

“No,” Lestat rolled his eyes, preparing to hit FaceTime again, “Technically, the pillow hit you. The force was all mine, though."

11:45 PM: I’m out at dinner with my family right now. Everything okay?? Love you.

“See,” Lestat crowed, “He’s not ignoring me!”

11:45 PM: Everything’s fine, beautiful! Armand’s here… We want to show you something ;)

Two minutes. Two minutes of Armand and Lestat staring at the little screen while the three little dots came and went several times.

“Too much?” Lestat’s insecurities began to flare up.

“No,” Armand snatched the phone out of his hand and opened the camera app. “Not enough… Now kiss me and make it dirty.”

Lestat didn’t have to be told twice. It was filthy, obscene, borderline pornographic-

“And… send!”

11:48 PM: look how much we miss you call us xx A

"He's not answering!" Lestat was aware of how juvenile he sounded then, and he couldn't care less.

“Give him a minute! And try to use the brain that I’ve heard you supposedly have… I’m sure he doesn’t want us to meet the rest of his family like this.”

Lestat took a minute to take Armand in – cheeks flushed from alcohol, eyes wild from excitement and arousal, hair mussed from rolling around Lestat’s pillows. He imagined he looked a lot like himself. “You’re right, mon petit,” he replied, unable to resist the endearment that he knew Armand would perceive as a slight to his height.

FaceTime Video.

“As always,” Armand remarked as he hit Accept Call, transforming the haughty, belligerent expression on his face into something downright innocent and wholesome. What an actor. “Hello, lover!”

Lestat leaned over Armand’s chest to ensure he was still in the frame, occupying most of it, in fact. “Bonjour, mon amour!"

Louis on the screen laughed, his green eyes exceptionally bright due to the lighting. “Bonjour to you too, my loves.”

“We miss you,” Armand complained with an exaggerated whine as Lestat interrupted, “But I miss you the most!”

Oh, how beautiful Louis was when he blushed – and it was ridiculously, delightfully easy to make him blush. “It’s not a competition,” he chided, “But I miss you both so much, of course. I can’t wait to be home.”

The rush from the alcohol was fading and Lestat cuddled to Armand’s side, dropping his head to his shoulder to settle his nerves. “I’m glad you picked up,” he whispered. Finally.

“Me too,” Armand nodded. “Where are you, sweetheart? I can’t quite tell.”

"Oh," Louis shrugged. "Hiding in the bathroom. I didn't know what to expect… after that photo." He blushed again and looked away.

Amazing that this was the same person that could have Lestat on one side and Armand on the other every weekend, a cock in each hand as he worked them to completion while murmuring sweet nonsense in a combination of English, French, and Creole.

The memory had Lestat subconsciously bucking his hips against Armand's leg and biting down on his lip to suppress a moan.

“That reminds me,” Armand shifted to sit up as he passed Lestat’s phone back to him. “We wanted to show you something.” Quickly freeing himself from his pants and underwear before snatching the phone right back, patting his inner thigh for Lestat’s benefit. “Go on then,” he told him.” He touched the screen and leaned back at an incline, “Camera’s on you, brat.”

Heard Louis gasp as he watched Lestat kiss his way down Armand’s navel, the tip of his cock grazing Lestat’s chin as he whimpered and squirmed in anticipation. “Don't drag it out,” he begged and when Lestat raised an eyebrow, he added, “We can't keep Louis in the bathroom all night.”

“Yes,” Louis sounded breathless, “Do it, Lestat.”

"Just where do the two of you get off, speaking to me this way?" He teased, drawing out the moment, knowing good and well the vision he presented to his captive audience. Hair escaping from the low ponytail to frame his face, the black eyeliner smudged around his eyes, making them appear massive and more mysterious, lips red and shiny and glistening from spit and precum.

Fluttered his long eyelashes shut and focused on taking Armand down to the hilt in one fluid movement, relaxing his throat and willing it to cooperate. Louis was watching, after all, and Lestat always performed better with a crowd.

“Good, so good, Lestat,” Louis cooed, and Lestat preened at the praise. “Isn't he good, Armand?”

"Uh huh," Armand moaned. "Really good. I'm not gonna hold out, baby. I'm sorry," he apologized to Louis, already linking his ankles over Lestat's back, using his free hand to tug on his hair.

You asked for quick, I'm giving you quick, Lestat wanted to say, but settled for smiling around the cock in his mouth, hyper-aware of both sets of eyes. Hollowed out his cheeks and hummed in the back of his throat, knowing he loved it when Armand did that to him.

"It's okay, love. Let go when you're ready." Fuck, that man's voice could hypnotize a lion.

Armand moaned again and shook his head at nothing in particular – the little obscene noises escaping his mouth and increasing in pitch with every merciless suck Lestat gave. “Oh yes, you will,” Louis soothed, “And Lestat will take it all, won't you, darling?”

He felt Armand’s thighs quivering on either side of his head and knew he wouldn't even need to answer Louis either way. He pulled back to grin at the camera, at Armand looking through it, mouth open and tongue lapping at the slit before closing his lips over the head once more as Armand groaned and went rigid, spine arching off the bed while Lestat's hands on his hips pinned him into place.

Lestat took it all, every drop Armand had to offer. Gave his softening cock one last suck for good measure, which earned him a cry from Armand and a "Good boy" from Louis before collapsing onto his side.

That was new. Interesting. Hot. He wouldn't mind an encore later.

“I'll do you now?” Armand's shaky voice cut through his thoughts.

"I don't think you have to," Lestat grimaced, noticing for the first time the mess he had made in his pants. He'd be so single-mindedly focused on putting on a good show, and hadn't realized he'd gotten himself off by grinding into the mattress.

Embarrassing.

"There," Lestat grabbed his phone back, holding it close so Louis would see just his face, see the proof of his labor. "I swallowed your boyfriend's load just like you told me to. Does that prove how much I love you or what?"

“How did this become about that? I know you love me, silly goose.”

“Not silly,” Lestat pouted while Armand narrowed his eyes at him, still too wrung out to move. “I wanted a chance to prove my love,” he grumbled as Lestat swatted at his hand.

“You're both so drunk! Sleep it off, my loves. I have to… clean up… and get back to the table before they start wondering where I am.”

Damn. "Alright," Lestat allowed, feeling the victor if nothing else. "I love you."

"I love you too," Armand's voice sounded small as he pulled himself up, using Lestat as leverage. "Call me later?"

"You'll be asleep! I hope. I love you both. I'll try to text you later." He blew them a kiss that they each pretended to catch, then the screen blinked and the call was over.

Lestat sighed and gently pushed Armand off in favor of getting up and stripping down, rummaging around the dresser for something clean to wear.

“You know what we should do?” Armand spoke loudly to the ceiling.

"What?" Lestat yelled from the adjoining bathroom, lowering his voice as he reentered, appreciating for a moment the fucked-out tableau Armand made.

At least Louis chose well based on aesthetics.

"What should we do?"

"Let's go into the city, it's Friday, and we have nothing better to do."

Not the worst idea Armand's ever had - the antics on the late-night trains in and out of Manhattan were worth the fare alone.

Midnight on Friday meant that most people were either on their way to the graveyard shift or just out and about and looking for a good time like Armand and Lestat. They ambled out of the bus at Port Authority and made their way to the subway at Broadway & W 41st. Lestat tried and failed to drunkenly serenade Armand around the Grand Central stop before bumping into a steel pole, much to the amusement of their fellow passengers.

“We,” Armand twirled around a pole and then dropped himself into Lestat’s lap, “Should get tattoos.”

Quelle surprise from the little imp. “Tattoos? Now? At midnight?”

“Yes.” Armand pursed his lips momentarily. “Tattoos to prove our love to Louis, as you so eloquently put it.”

“What, you’re feeling put out you didn't get to enthrall him tonight and you want to overcompensate?”

Mean, but Armand could handle it.

“I enthralled him plenty!” Armand snapped, arms crossed over his chest. “I just think it would be fun, you know?” tone softening, head to the side in a feigned gesture of submission. “C’mon, Lestat. It would make a great story." He sneered then, and the illusion dissipated, "Unless you're too chicken to do it."

"Chicken?! Who do you think you're talking to?" Lestat's left hand on his lower back kept him from losing his balance at a hard turn.

Intriguing, seeing as Lestat looked like he wanted to shove Armand onto the disgusting subway car floor himself. He settled for yanking him up to his feet by his wrist as though he were handling a toddler, heralding him to the nearest exit.

“If it’s a tattoo you want, we’re getting off here then,” Lestat announced, his voice dripping with irritation and perhaps a tad bit of excitement.

Armand gave him an icy look but made no move to separate his wrist from Lestat’s grasp, following him out of the subway and up the steps to Union Square. The January air cold and unforgiving, and he shivered in Lestat's leather jacket.

Hadn't been paying attention when they left the house – Lestat hadn't mentioned it, but Armand was sure he'd noticed and hoped he wasn't reading into it. Yet Armand was thankful for it now as it hit him at precisely mid-thigh and was infinitely warmer than his own unlined one would have been.

"It's a ten-minute walk to the place where I got mine done. They don't ask for ID if you pay upfront. Cool dude," Lestat seemed to be warming up the idea as they walked hurriedly.

“You have a tattoo? Where?” Armand demanded to know, evidently shocked, as he thought he had already seen every square inch of Lestat’s naked body.

“Guess.”

“I don’t know! Just tell me, for once!”

“You’re such a baby, Armand, I swear,” but there was no malice in it, and Lestat indulged him by pausing long enough to pull down his lower lip, revealing the BRAT tattooed on the inside. “Hurt like a fucking bitch too!”

Armand couldn't help it – he clapped his hands and laughed out loud. "Of course you would!"

“What did Louis think?”

"Told me I was a 'damned fool,' and I was lucky it was where nobody would see it or he would've dumped me for good right then and there."

“Hmm, such a shame it wasn’t on your forehead then.”

“Imp.”

“Idiot.”

Pretty Devil’s Ink was everything one might expect from a tattoo parlor that operated well past midnight and accepted minors as clients. Still, Armand felt a thrill of adrenaline as Lestat held the door open for him, waving him in dramatically.

“Hey, hey! The brat is back!” a big guy boomed in a decidedly Italian-American accent. “And he brought a little friend!”

Armand was about to open his mouth and challenge that statement when Lestat stepped around him to embrace the guy, clapping him on the back. “Hey, Nico! What’s up? Yeah, Armand here was ragging on my ass about wanting a tattoo, so here we are! He has the same problem I did, but you’ll hook him up, right?”

A dashing smile, a wink, an extra $20 on top of the cash Armand procured from his tattered old wallet, and they were going through Nico’s catalog.

More to the point, Armand was going through it while Lestat almost literally bounced from one end of the shop to the other and back – taking a swig from the half-full whiskey bottle he'd stashed under his coat earlier and touching stuff he probably had no business touching.

"So, what do you have in mind?" Nico asked. "And is it one of youse or the two of youse, because you only paid for one."

“I’m not sure yet… But it’s both, right, Lestat? We’re doing it together, right? For Louis?”

Perhaps it was the booze, perhaps it was how all of Armand’s confidence seemed to abruptly disappear at different points throughout the night, perhaps it was because Lestat never could say no to a grand gesture even when he very well should, but Lestat heard himself say, “Yes,” before he realized he’d done it.

Took a seat on the table next to Armand and picked at the black polish on his nails while Armand flipped to another page. “We should call Louis again,” he smirked, phone already out of his pocket. “Get his input.”

Declined.

“Oh, this is rich!”

“Maybe he’s still with his family, Lestat. And wouldn’t it be better as a surprise? As long as we don’t get on our faces… or somewhere equally ridiculous.”

“Whatever. Let’s leave him a voicemail.”

Declined.

“You’re breaking our hearts, mon chéri! …Armand, say something…."

“… going to prove our love to you!”

“… that’s right… prove our love to you!”

“… and then you’ll never leave us again!”

"… that's right! I must say, Armand, you have a dazzling way with words…."

"… both of youse are really drunk…  I don't know if I should be doing this…."

“… we’ll pay you double!”

“… yes, we’ll pay you double!”

“… Lestat, pay the man…."

–

Much more painless this time, given how much more cushioning that particular region of the body contained. Armand still had winced and reached for Lestat’s hand more than once – it was a different kind of pain compared to the ones he enjoyed, and he didn’t do well with the unfamiliar.

Lestat hadn't said much, having now reached the "quiet drunk" stage, but he lingered by Armand's head, allowed him pick of the music ('70s glam rock), and let him play with the tangle of bracelets on Lestat's wrists to distract himself.

Afterward, when Nico had proclaimed the job almost done ("just have to do the bandage"), Lestat took a selfie for Louis. His temple pressed to Armand's left butt cheek, next to the red half-heart – the kind that joins with another to form a whole on a friendship necklace – that had Louis written on it in cursive.

“And… send!”

“Same thing?” Nico asked when Armand stepped off the table and gingerly pulled up his pants. “Opposite heart piece, opposite side? And what goes in it again?”

“That is such a dumb idea, Lestat!”

"No, it's not! It makes perfect sense. Winner gets Louis's first name, loser gets last name! You just don't think you can win!"

“The odds are 50/50!”

“Exactly! So, heads or tails?”

“Fine… Heads.”

“Fuck!”

“I win!”

“Like hell you do, Armand… Last name is the married name anyway. It’s better.”

“That’s the booze rotting your brain, Lestat. Soon there’ll be nothing left.”

“Shut up.”

Armand appeared equal parts entertained and apologetic as Lestat struggled to answer. “It’s a long name, another ridiculous French name.”

"What about just 'DPDL'?" Armand volunteered helpfully. "He'll know what it stands for. So will you, and so will I. Who else is going to see, really?"

The unintended implication that no one besides Louis and Armand would ever see him that intimately again made Lestat's chest ache in a funny way, in a way he didn't want to acknowledge just yet.

“Yeah,” he nodded, climbing onto the table, hiding his face from Armand’s scrutiny. “Yeah, that works.”

–

"I'm going to pass out," Armand complained as they staggered back to the subway station. More so from exhaustion than anything else, the alcohol long gone and having since worn off.

He looked it too, and Lestat caught his elbow as he swayed in place. “You can sleep at my place if you’d like. Nobody’s home till Monday.”

"Thanks," Armand sighed as he linked his arm through Lestat's, both out of a desire to be closer and a need to stay upright. "My 'parents' don't even notice I'm gone. Or they don't care, you know? We're just government checks to them. Yay, foster care."

Lestat didn't know what to say, so he said nothing, but squeezed Armand's hand and hoped the sentiment came across.

“Hey, Lestat.”

They were outside the station now.

“Yeah?”

“I-”

“… You?”

“I-”

An ambulance sped by, the red and blue lights reflecting off Armand’s anguished face.

Oh.

“You don’t have to say it.”

“Why? Because you wouldn’t say it back?”

"No," Lestat brushed Armand's hair back off his face, tucking the thick strands behind his ears, taking a moment to free a rogue curl away from a little earring. "I would. I love you, Armand."

A radiant smile, a sloppy kiss, a sharp nip at his earlobe.

"Prove it then."

[dooppooo]

mdni - characters are 18+, oral (m receiving), semi-public sex

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE!! I didn't plan for this to be a three part series but fuck it, I'm having fun and you guys love it.

pt.1 / pt.2

(those who commented on my last post and who were looking forward to part two: @sanzusmile @megumischubbycheeks @zoraspillow @yelyahennig )

-

When Yuta asked you to touch him again sometime - he fucking meant it.

Since going your separate ways that evening, Okkotsu hasn't been able to keep his mind off of you. Late at night he'd toss and turn, then eventually try to recreate the work you did on him, but it just wasn't the same.

With one hand he'd awkwardly try to milk his tip and with the other pump the rest of his length, but he was just too sensitive! He'd get so lost in the feel of it. His wrists would get too tired to keep up the high maintenance of his pleasure that he'd settle for a weaker orgasm.

You were so difficult for him to be around because all he could think about was him cumming all over your cute little hands again. While staring at your dainty fingers he'd get painfully hard and have to sit and stare at a corner until his erection subsided. Being in class with you was horrible, seeing you twirl your pencil between your fingers or tap your nails on the desk, if he could get one more moment with you, maybe this intense desire for you would subside - bury the hatchet if you will.

So each morning he'd grow more and more excited to cross of the days on his calendar because at the end of the month, Panda would be hosting his movie night! There he could slip in his chance to have you feel him again.

-

The weeks passed slowly, much slower than Yuta would've liked, but that only made movie night that much more thrilling when it did arrive. He was buzzing with excitement as he slipped on his sweatpants and old graphic tee, swooping up a new fuzzy blanket he bought for this very occasion and left his dorm with a grin.

He had been anticipating your company for much longer than he wanted to admit, just your energy was intoxicating and he wanted another sip of you. Tonight would be a night he'd surely never forget.

But some thing was off.

The smell of popcorn wasn't in the air, nor was there the sound of the TV and light chatter while everyone set up. When he rounded the corner to the lounge space and saw no board games or snacks, his heart dropped into his stomach. Where was everyone?

"Yuta? Did you not get our texts?" You asked from behind him.

He turned to reply, but his jaw hit the floor and his face began to burn - he was gawking at you! And he felt a downright idiot for it too.

On you a black sparkly dress hugged your skin, spaghetti straps and deep V across your shoulders and chest, fabric snuggly around your mid thigh, and a pair of velvety heels on your feet. To keep you warm you had a blazer dangling from your shoulders, which wouldn't offer anything more than a business casual look to the outfit. To top it off, your hair was as stunning as ever, ready for Okkotsu's fingers to delve into.

"So pretty..."

"Huh? Are you alright?"

A quick mental slap to the face had him regaining his composure, "Uh - y-yeah I'm fine. What's going on?"

You giggled, "We're going out instead of having movie night. I think Panda said dinner theater or something? Just dress nice, and quickly, Maki and him are already in the car."

With haste Yuta scrambled to toss on a white button up and some nice black dress pants, on his wrist was a watch and a simple suit jacket to top it off. While he changed, he thought it peculiar for Panda to change plans like this, and aim for something this expensive, he must've had to pull some strings. Either way, Yuta had to adjust his plan. Adapt and overcome. (overcum hahahah)

In the car Okkotsu greeted his classmates who wore a green gown and a white suit. Needless to say everyone was looking stunning and would be turning heads as they entered the the theater. However, Yuta would be spending most of his evening thinking of ways to get your hands on him than watching the play or dining. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and if he remembers correctly, you were on board with it too.

At the theater, everyone was formally seated and had their orders taken. Panda expressed to not spend too much since the one funding this fancy evening was Satoru, but that only encouraged everyone to order the fanciest dish they could find on the menu. Sure they'd be lectured for it, but the exquisite blast of flavors would be worth every finger wag and punishment Gojo had. Though, while everyone ate forkfuls of the finest dishes, Yuta was hunting for the nearest bathroom.

You see, it was a cheap plan, but one nonetheless. Maybe as it unfolded he'd polish the edges, but until then the idea was to get you both in a stall. He wouldn't take very long, not with your magical touch, only then could he truly appreciate the extent of the evening, but until then he only had you and a quiet place on the brain.

Unfortunately, Yuta wasn't very nonchalant in his search, for you quickly noticed the way he rubbed his thighs and surveyed the room.

You leaned over to his ear, "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

A lightbulb went off.

"Uh...I'm feeling a little ill. Can you come outside with me for a second?"

Genius.

You didn't hesitate, "Of course - here -" you reached for his arm after standing from your seat and relaying to your peers Yuta's 'illness.'

Okkotsu felt unusually cocky at his ability to adapt to the situation so quickly and use it to his advantage. Things were going smoother than expected, and if they could return before the end of the play, even better. He'd definitely have to repay you for your time.

Once outside, you gently guided Yuta to the car you borrowed for the evening. You both slipped inside the backseat and turned on the fan to allow some fresh air circulate in an attempt to ease the brown haired boy.

"Now," you sighed while settling in the seat next to him, "You want to tell me what's going on?"

"Well...I'm not sure, I just got sick to my stomach all the sudden."

It was cute, really, how hard he was trying to mask his grin and keep up with his lies.

"Right..." you nodded, "Does it have anything to do with the boner you've had all evening?"

"Huh!?" He didn't think it was noticeable secure under his belt against his naval.

You grinned mischievously, "Did you think I wouldn't notice you shifting it under your jacket? You really need to learn to be more sly."

All color from Okkotsu's face drained only to be filled with humiliation. Since he was a teen he thought he was pretty good at dealing with his manhood, but you seemed to crush that notion with just a few words.

"Let's get this taken care of so we can see the play."

Your teeth pinched your gloss covered lip between your teeth at the rush you got unbuckling his belt. The sound of the metal clicking open and his zipper coming undone was shamefully arousing, having you cross your legs to trap any wetness trying to escape from your core as to not dampen your lovely dress.

Just like Okkotsu, you had been thinking about this, only you wanted your tongue doing the work instead of your palms. Imagining him digging his fingers in your hair, whining and biting back moans, thighs trembling, ugh it was all you could think about. Truthfully, you had also been checking off the days with glee in hopes of grasping your chance at the next movie night, but this was even better.

"Y/n..." Okkotsu breathed, eyes locked onto your hands unveiling him.

"Mmm Yuta, you're just as pretty as I remember."

To achieve a better angle you nestled yourself between his thighs on the floor of the car. At that, he balled his slacks in his fists and let a low whine express his neediness. Almost immediately, that whine was replaced by quick breaths and tiny moans as you pumped his length in your hand.

"B-both hands, like you did before."

You tsked, "So demanding, why don't you let me deal with it? Just relax."

It took a few moments for Yuta to lay his trust in you and let his head rest against the leather seats, his eyes fluttering close to fully immerse himself in the bliss. A faint grin appeared on his lips.

That grin was dropped into a gasp once you wrapped your lips around his tip. Then a moan followed at the swirling of your tongue. You looked up at him through your lashes and Yuta swore he felt genuinely drunk, but hadn't sipped a single alcoholic beverage all night. The cherry on top was when you pulled away, a string of saliva connecting you and him, then spitting on his cock and pumping it to get it slick. He quickly stuck a hand out and held back your head to calm himself, or else he would've cum right then and there.

After a few moments, the feeling of your warm breath against his cock was more tantalizing than comforting. It was time for him to regain control, specifically by twisting your locks around his fingers and forcing you to take his dick into your mouth and down your throat. What were you going to do, complain? Not with his cock shoved in your pretty mouth.

"Mmm just like that." Okkotsu practically growled.

A few tears streamed down your cheeks as you did your best not to gag too hard on his length, but it was worth it to see Yuta this dominate. Usually, he was very reserved and kind, but something must've snapped in him to have him using your mouth as a cock sleeve, and you were oddly thankful for it. The change in dynamic was nothing less than hot and left a longing ache in your groin.

With no concern for you, Okkotsu thrusted his hips into your mouth and forced his cock further down your throat, to which you tried to keep up with the pace and pull sweet moans from him by working your tongue on the underside. This was a million times better than your hands, and you could tell by the way he twitched in your mouth. As much as you wanted to smirk and smile at the pleasure you brought him...it was a little challenging.

"Fuck...Y/n." He moaned out, and the sweetness in his voice had you moaning against him.

A guttural groan rumbled in Yuta's throat at the feel of you gagging and moaning against his cock, your spit and his precum mixing to make lewd wet sounds and amplifying the hotness in Yuta's lower stomach. If he could edge himself all night in your throat he certainly would, but a time had to come where that thigh-trembling orgasm had to rip through his spine.

Your throat was sore and bruised from his cock, but you didn't dare stop - not even the thought crossed your mind. The way he struggled to hold eye contact with you, his brows pressed together and face strained to express how hard he was trying not to cum, you only wanted to grind against your heels more. So what if you had a wet spot on your dress?

"I-I'm sorry."

You furrowed your brows at his comment, wondering what he had to apologize for, but it was more of a warning than an apology.

His nails dug into your scalp and he planted his feet onto the car floor firmly before mercilessly thrusting into your mouth. He grit his teeth and clenched his jaw as he focused on fucking your throat, falling in love with the way you gagged and gripped his thighs.

"Oh god-!"

Sweat had Okkotsu's baby hairs sticking to his forehead, the rest of his hair being thrown back with his head and his mouth releasing a shamelessly loud moan. His hips trembled as he thrusted into your mouth a few more times, letting his hot ropes of white shoot down your throat.

"I love you I love you I love you!"

You didn't realize what he was chanting at first, too occupied with swallowing every last drop of him and licking up the mess you both had made, tucking him back into his formal bottoms. He tasted as sweet as you thought he would.

Some drool dribbled from the corner of your lips and you wiped it with your finger as you slipped back onto the seat from your crouched position on the floor, and Okkotsu's eyes followed you the whole way. Rightfully, his eyes were wide and his pupils were unbelievably large, but there was a faint glint in his eyes, a softness. Tenderness and compassion.

His words hit you like a truck.

"Heh...you don't mean that." You awkwardly chuckled.

Yuta swallowed thickly, "No, I do mean it, I mean it with everything in me."

You rolled your eyes, "Yeah - you and every other guy I sucked off."

"I'm serious!"

Your gaze snapped his way.

"Yeah it was sort of the heat of the moment for me to say...but I do...love you."

Your mind went hazy and then blank. Were you to say I love you back? Did you love Yuta? No, you couldn't be here right now, you needed to be alone.

In your phone camera you fixed up your hair, put on a fresh layer of gloss, and reached for the door. However, you never made it out of the car, because Yuta had his arms wrapped around you and his lips pressed against yours. The cherry flavor of your gloss was smeared onto his own lips and soon his tongue in an attempt to bring you closer to him.

You pushed against his chest, "Yuta-"

"Please! Please Y/n just say it back. I know you love me too." He searched your face frantically, his eyes crossing paths with your lips more than once.

"I'm not sure-"

"No, no don't say that."

"I'm not sure what love is!" You blurted out, frustrated at the way he wouldn't let you finish your thoughts.

His desperate expression twisted into pity, and in an effort to comfort you he slipped his hands into yours. Squeezing your laced fingers in his, he raised your knuckles to brush over his lips and proposed, "Let me show you what love is."

The sudden shift in mood was making your head spin and heart race. You felt disoriented and nearly overwhelmed at it all. Once second you're swallowing Yuta's cum and the next he'd begging to show you what love is. How does one process that?

The more important question: what was there to lose? What would be so bad about letting Yuta love you and express to you how true love operated? If anything, you needed him in your life more than he already was, you needed him as your lover, not as your friend. It was worth a shot.

"Okay...we can try." You agreed cautiously.

He was careful with you, nodding softly before cupping the nape of your neck to bring you in for a gentle kiss.

Thump thump thump!

"Are you two done making out in there? You're going to miss the second half of the play." Maki questioned sarcastically, peaking into the car with her hands cupped around her eyes.

You wanted to say screw the play and softly kiss Okkotsu into the next morning, dust your fingers over his body and feel his silky hair between your fingers, but you can't have your cake and eat it too.

Faces aflame, you both slipped out of the backseat and walked back into the theater behind Maki, hand in hand.

[silkholland]

Summary: Running into your former best friend on your 25th birthday wasn’t in your celebration plans. What makes It even worse is that he doesn’t even seem to remember you or the reason you completely disappeared from his life. What is in your plans though, is to make him fall in love with you only to break him the way he broke you. There’s no way you could end up hurt again…right?

Pairings: Tom Holland x plus size! reader

Word Count: 1.3K

Chapter Warnings: cursing, slight angst, depression, low self-esteem, slow start

A/N: Here it is, the long awaited first chapter. I hope you guys like it and want to keep reading. Take a minute to reblog if you like it, it's really appreciated. If you'd like to be added to the taglist, just let me know. Enjoy.

Chapter 1: We’ll Be Ghosts

The first thing you noticed when your blurry eyes began to open was the harsh, rhythmic sound of your phone ringing. The second, and more enticing thing was the smell of freshly made eggs, accompanied by your roommate’s off-key voice.

“Happy Birthday, little lady!”

You groaned, slapping your hand on your phone to dull the ringing as you rolled over.

“Come on, before the food gets cold,” Kie grabbed at your blankets to pull you out of your bed but you refused to budge.

“As much as I love waking up to breakfast in bed….couldn’t you have waited a few more hours?” You grumbled as you finally relented, allowing her to pull the covers back as you sat up.

“There’s too much to do today, so get your ass up and let’s go!” Kie’s voice raised on her last words as she shoved the plate of eggs into your hand.

“I’m sorry, isn’t it my birthday? What are you in a rush for?,” your words were mumbled while you stuffed the surprisingly well cooked eggs into your mouth. Kiara never was much of a cook, in fact she spent most nights begging you to get take out even when you were just barely scraping by.

“Exactly, it’s your birthday and I wanna get the festivities started. So eat up, shower, and let’s get going. I need you to help me pick out an outfit for tonight. Lucia is meeting us there.” And with that your best friend leaves you to enjoy your eggs alone.

You grumble as you shovel another forkful into your mouth, pondering how you got stuck with such a bossy but caring best friend.

You met Kiara in your sophomore year of High School. You had moved midway through freshman year, but during that time you didn’t feel you could trust yourself to open up to anyone ever again. For that reason, you kept to yourself. You had planned to do the same in your sophomore year but Kiara had other plans.

“This seat taken?” You looked up to see one of most stunning, blinding smiles you had ever seen in your life beaming down at you. You were about to dismiss her, not wanting to begin any sort of friendship this soon, but she was much quicker than you.

“Good, I’m Kiara,” she spoke as she sat herself down right next to you. It took you a second to compose yourself before you peered back up at her nervously, “Y/N.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Y/N. You have math with Mr. Place, right?” She queried a she began to dig into her lunch - a plate of fries and a kiwi strawberry Snapple.

It would be easy to say from that moment you guys were inseparable, but that wouldn’t be the truth. Kiara worked hard to open you up from the shell you had created. After a month she introduced you to her other friend, Lucia. Lucia was a theater kid, which quickly explained why Kiara didn’t introduce you to her immediately. She knew she would have been way too much for you too soon. You expected both of them to look at you like you were a wounded puppy with how broken you felt, but they never did. They introduced you to the best places to go after school, the number one diner in the town, and invited you over for sleepovers every chance they could - it took you three months before you finally said yes to one. They slowly made you feel the way you did before you moved, before he broke you and your trust in others.

When you graduated, both you and Kiara decided to stay in town to attend community college. Lucia, the shining star that she was, went to NYU. Four years passed quickly and now here you were. Kiara and you decided to get an apartment right out of college, while Lucia decided to - with her family’s money- get a house nearby. You never spent more than two weeks apart and for that you were incredibly grateful. You finally allowed yourself to trust, to feel, to believe in humanity again. Yeah, that may seem dramatic, but it’s incredible the way just a few words can break you down so quickly.

You tilted your head slightly as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You spent the last few years building your confidence within yourself, but as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, doubt began to creep its way in. Dropping the towel to the floor, you turned your body slightly to get a different view, a deep frown set on your face. It took everything in you not to let the words fill your mind, ‘I’d never be caught dead at the pool with a whale’. You shook your head as if doing so would make the words and feelings tied along with them vanish. It’s your birthday, no time to dwell on the words of a stupid, teenage boy. Even if that boy was your best friend…and first love. Without a second thought given to him, you quickly got dressed.

Strutting out of your room with a new sense of confidence, you grabbed the keys to your car and leaned against the counter. “Ready?”

Kiara turned around to look at you from her place in the kitchen, immediately wolf-whistling. “Well look at you, birthday girl. Dressing up for lil ol’ me?”

You glanced down at your attire - a graphic tee tied at the waist and a pair of black, ripped skinny jeans - then glanced back up at her with your eyebrow quirked. “Are we looking at the same person?” With a roll of her eyes, Kiara was out the door with you right behind her.

“What about this?” The modelesque brunette queried while holding up an obnoxiously neon pink tube dress.

“Lu, I love you, but I didn’t realize I was meeting with a pimp tonight.” Your eyes shuffled through the clothes on the rack, hoping to find something bigger than a size large.

“Nah, not a pimp, just Kiara’s new boy toy.” Lucia giggled to herself, trying to hide herself behind a flimsy shirt while Kiara playfully swatted her arm.

“For your information, he’s not my ‘boy toy.’ Lucas and I are very much in love.”

“Yeah, we know, Kie, we’ve seen all of your love all over instagram,” you opened your mouth wide and stuck your finger in repeatedly to simulate gagging. It was now your turn to dodge Kiara’s slap happy hands.

“You know what, maybe you do need a pimp. Maybe you wouldn’t be so bitchy if you finally got laid.” Kiara quirked her eyebrow at you before she busied herself with another rack of clothes.

Whether it was the obnoxiously bright fluorescent lighting of the store you were currently perusing, the loud pop music blasting over the speakers, or the words you wish weren’t ringing true, your head suddenly felt like it might explode.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you dismissed her with a wave of your hand, your legs dragging you towards another disappointing rack.

“Wait wait wait!! I think I found a wiiiinner!” Lucia’s voice raised a few octaves, her cheery demeanor soothing the tension but doing nothing to help the lawnmower in your head.

Your gaze lifted to find a red halter dress in her grasp. The length would hit you about mid thigh, the sequins shining so bright under the fluorescent bulbs that you could only imagine what it’d look like in the club. The fit would be tight, perfect to show off your curves and assets, extra emphasis on ass, while the front was ruched and flowing slightly. It would hide any insecurities you might have before you got a few drinks in you.

“It’s perfect.”

Taglist: @blindingdutchy @wayfaring----stranger @rosyparkers

[leetotters]

can you write a Chris Evans x Ballerina! Reader?? (I am also cool with a big age gap if you are <3)

i love a good age gap fic/ headcanon, thank you for this request anon!

chris evans x ballerina!reader

you were a principal dancer at the american ballet theater. an outstanding and one of greatest dance companies in the world.

it took you years to reach where you were now. many years of being an apprentice to a corps de ballet contract then promoted to a soloist and your fulfilling dream, a principal dancer.

with your well known figure in the dance/ballet community, you were appointed many interviews with various host. who wanted to invite the art performed dance to their audience, and you, the elegant ballerina who was repertory countless of times with your company.

it was one faithful late night interview when you met a certain charming blue eyed man. who was practically swooning over you.

you had performed a simple solo you did for a past competition, it wasn't anything extravagant. well to you it wasn't

to the audience and the host, you were a stunning angel. your movements as graceful as a white swan and your facial expressions on point.

when you had finished performed your solo, the host allowed you exit the stage. you did your signature last move before going backstage. the sound of applause and screams erupting from the other side.

you were obviously expecting gratitude from the backstage workers. but what you didn't expect was to see chris- fucking-evans congratulating your sophisticated performance- that's what he called it.

from that night forward, you kept in contact with the actor. after weeks of a not so platonic friendship turned into a lovely, trusting relationship.

chris was so in love with you. he adored the fact that were a ballerina- a professional one at that.

chris idolized the way you looked dressed in your element; your hair in a tight bun, a leotard and tights adorning your body- sometimes a silk tutu and a creamy pink ballet shoes securely on your feet. a treasured sparkling gem.

chris didn't really know much about the artistic dance, so he was really appreciative of you when you taught him about it.

you showed him half of your choreography for swan lake. it took months until he got it right. it surprised you, it was one of your most challenging pieces.

you also dressed him in your ballerina attire.- and it's safe to say they were tight in the right places;) -.

as a principal dancer, you also had the opportunity to do pas de deux. this was a totally big dance duet for the dance/ballet community.

and you were honored when your company granted you to chance to perform with your masterly male friend you made during your past 19 years of dancing and prepping for this day.

chris obviously attends to see you perform. even bringing you a boutique of flowers with a card which had a pair of ballerina shoes and a 'you'll do great' message at the front.- a gentlemen as always-.

the performance is absolutely phenomenal. as he expected, his girlfriend was amazing.

but the day after, pictures surfaced the internet. hundreds of articles containing opinionated information on them with pictures of you and chris entering his car. his hand around your waist and his lips pressed to your glossed ones.

it was surprising to the fans/ media. chris dating a famous ballerina and all. but the main issue-for the nosy public- was the age difference between you both. a whole eighteen years.

chris nor you cared about the age gap. it was just another flawless speck that made your relationship even healthier. and besides, it worked both ways. yes, i do mean it in a sexual way!

forget about that, the press and media is stupid and a total waste of time. love those who respect your relationship and fuck those who don't.

and plus you couldn't really care what anyone thought about you. you were a professional principal dancer, a highly paid ballerina who performs at one of the best ballet companies in the world.

what more could you ask for-

oh yeah! and chris, your older, child- like boyfriend. who supported and encouraged you through your topping career.

[willowcrowned]

Okay but has anyone considered Obi-wan/Cody/Satien (is that how its spelled?) Regardless, hes got two hands for his two mandalorians, the au where this happend is gotta be top notch ridiculous ye?

Okay thank you so much for giving me a reason to think about this, because this AU contains three things I adore: polyamory, ships where everyone is frighteningly competent, and Obi-Wan

In this AU, Ventress is somehow even less well-adjusted (bear with me). What this means is that, instead of taking a gap year and finding herself after her family is brutally murdered, she decides she needs to get revenge even more now. What does this mean? In the short term, she still becomes a bounty hunter, but in the long run? She’s looking for a Sith lord team up so she can punch Dooku (with a lit lighstaber) in his stupid, elitist, backstabbing face.

So when Maul invades Mandalore, what happens? Ventress comes right along, ready to give her ‘I know we hate each other, but consider teaming up to kill someone we both hate even MORE’ space TED talk. And though Maul may be terribly annoying, a closet theater kid, always in a tits out kind of mood, and denying his gay awakening, he’s not stupid. He knows Sidious is coming for him, sooner rather than later, and he knows he needs more people on his side than his (impressively beefy) brother. He and Savage agree to the team-up.

Cue Obi-Wan showing up, ready to save his sort-of girlfriend, and finding Pre Vizsla, who got REAL sus the second ANOTHER lunatic with a red lightsaber showed up, occupied by capturing Maul, Savage, and Ventress. 

Obi-Wan saves Satie, who convinces him to call Cody for a quick evac, and they’re running away, flirting, and arguing over shooting things (as usual), when they spot Ventress, Maul, and Savage, about to be executed.

Oh, they both think, hell no. And then, because they have a stupid moral code that makes them do stupid moral things, they go save them.

A little background on Obi-Wan at this point: He has been fighting in a war for over two years. He is exhausted, close to a breakdown, and seriously questioning his place as a General. Next to him at all times, supporting him, helping him, and saving him, is Cody, who is clever, kinder than he has any right to be, and is, of course, devastatingly handsome when he does his special, unique-to-Cody half-smirk.

Obi-Wan, to put it mildly, is totally gone on him. Obi-Wan also, to put it less mildly, is his commanding officer in an army that Cody can’t leave on pain of death. To do anything— make any advance beyond the flirting that he engages in with most people— would put Cody in a very uncomfortable position, whether or not he returns Obi-Wan’s feelings. So Obi-Wan watches him from afar, hoping against hope that his affections are returned, and that one day, after the end of the war, there will be a future for both of them.

A little more background on Obi-Wan at this point: He has always respected Satine. Their correspondence fell apart just a few months after the end of his mission with Qui-Gon, but he’s been keeping up with her professional accomplishments for years. Over time, the love he bore for her faded, leaving him with good memories and an enduring appreciation for her courage, her cleverness, and her ability to deliver devastating blows to someone’s confidence with a few well-placed words.

Until he sees her again. And yes, alright, he might be angry that she’s choosing to stay out of the war— he knows what good she could do— but he understands her fears, understands the very real possibility that if Mandalore gets embroiled in yet another war, they may never recover. The thing is... well, she’s still very beautiful, especially when he’s yelling at him, and as slowly as his feelings had faded then, they come back in a rush now.

He has very much fallen in love with Cody, and he is very much still in love with Satine.

Cut back to the present— Obi-Wan and Satine rescue the three most annoying Sith in the galaxy and get the heck out of dodge. Cody, because he’s Cody, comes swooping in with a last-minute rescue.

At this point, two things are occurring.

The first: Obi-Wan is stuck in a room with four people he’s periodically flirted with over the past few years, two of whom he’s desperately in love with, one of whom he had a weird encounter with that he can never tell Anakin about when she and him got trapped in a middle school auditorium, and one of whom is definitely wearing no shirt and all that jewelry for a reason. It is Supremely awkward for him.

The second: Every single person in that room, each of which is (barring Savage) deeply attracted to Obi-Wan, is realizing that Obi-Wan is dressed in Mandalorian armor, and while Obi-Wan in three layers of tunics and a cloak is an absolute knockout, Obi-Wan in Mandalorian armor may very well kill them (and he won’t even have to touch his lightsaber to do it).

For one single moment, everything is absolutely still as they all stare at each other.

...And then Maul starts on the ‘I will rend your flesh from your bones, feel my wrath, Kenobarrgh’ spiel, and Satine stuns him. Oh, and Savage. Ventress agrees to watch the two of them if they don’t stun her, and Obi-Wan agrees.

Which then leaves him, Cody, and Satine in a room alone.

A word on Cody at this point: He has been bred from birth to be the perfect soldier— loyal, clever (but not too clever), and rigourously adherent to protocol. Yet, within three months of knowing Obi-Wan, he’s, well, calling him Obi-Wan in his head. Even just that is a gross breach of protocol, but he’s compromised in more ways than one. He talks to Obi-Wan, now, not just as a subordinate, or secondary advisor, but as a friend, as a councilor. Every time Obi-Wan touches him— never for longer than a brief second— his skin lights up under his armor. One time, Obi-Wan fell asleep on him for half an hour, and Cody’s was sure everyone would hear his heartbeat. 

What he’s doing— how he feels— he knows it’s putting Obi-Wan in danger, knows that if the Kaminoans had wanted to the clones to be equals to the Jedi, they would have told them so. And look, he knows what the natborns would call the way he’s feeling, but he can’t feel that way. He’s a clone— he’s expendable by definition. Even if, on some off-chance, he makes it out of this war alive, there’s nothing for him. Obi-Wan couldn’t care for him like that, couldn’t care for a man with the same face as millions of others, born and bred only for war. So it doesn’t matter how he feels.

A word on Satine at this point: Obi-Wan, when he left, was a gawkish, bumbling thing of red hair and freckles and the sweetest smile. Obi-Wan, when he came back, was graceful, eloquent, and very, very handsome. He is also infuriating. (This does not change how attracted she is to him in the least.)

She’s not a romantic, really, but she is a realist, and she knows she’s loved him in some form or another for over twenty years. She knows she can’t ask him to return it— knows that asking him to leave the order for her wouldn’t just be for her, it would be for Mandalore, and while the politician in her cries for her to claim him, the person in her who loves Obi-Wan could not abide tearing him away from his culture for her own purposes. She still loves him, deeply and irrevocably, and she knows he still loves her. (Maybe, she thinks, after the war... But she can’t afford to be sentimental).

What do Cody and Satine have in common? They’re both extremely competent, both instinctively ruthless, and they both love Obi-Wan. Oh, and they’re also both immediately jealous of their counterpart.

They know they shouldn’t be. They know it’s not fair, not when Obi-Wan isn’t theirs anyways, but it doesn’t change the surge of envy and dislike that happens when they see Obi-Wan use the soft voice he only uses for the people he likes best on the person across from them.

Cody knows he can never compare to the Duchess, who is beautiful and well-spoken and has held Obi-Wan’s heart since they were fifteen. Satine knows she can never compare to Cody, who has been at Obi-Wan’s side every second since the war’s beginning, who is so much closer in ideals to Obi-Wan than she is, however it might appear on the surface.

Fortunately, they don’t have to deal with it for long, because Ventress comes in with Maul and Savage and proposes a team up, at which point Maul reveals the identity of the Sith Master.

Obi-Wan swears a string of words that Cody and Satine are both very impressed by, and agrees to the team up. Cody and Satine, who are both going to Coruscant anyways, agree to it too.

What ensues is a good deal of scheming, during which Cody and Satine avoid each other like the plague, Obi-Wan is repeatedly told to get some sleep, and Ventress cuffs Maul to a door on multiple nonconsecutive occasions. When they get to Coruscant, Satine has already told Padmé, who has in turn told her group of anti-war (and anti-Palpatine) senators, Cody has given Rex a heads up, and Ventress, Maul, and Savage have been metaphorically sharpening their lightsabers for ages.

(It occurs to Obi-Wan, at one point, after he’s woken up from his enforced 25-hour nap, that Palpatine must have created the clone army for a reason— must have a failsafe in place— and he asks Ahsoka to pull all the data the Kaminoans have on the clones. They find out about the chips, and Ahsoka immediately immediately holds the Kaminoans at laser sword point until they reprogram every order into a command that dissolves the chip.)

The thing about organizing a coup together is that it makes it very hard to avoid each other. Cody and Satine are forced to work together, and, what do you know, it turns out that even with seething jealousy at work, they end up respecting each other. (Note: Obi-Wan comes into a room at one point to see them both bent over a commlink, heads together and hands nearly touching. He short circuits.)

In any case, coup, Palps dies, Republic fixed, whatever.

What’s important is that Obi-Wan gets really, really injured— so much so that he might die. Cody and Satine have dealt with him being dead before (Deception arc anyone?), but this? Watching him slowly fade, knowing there’s nothing they can do about it? That’s worse.

One night, when Anakin has fallen asleep, they have a long conversation in low voices about Obi-Wan, darting from fond to furious to devastated over and over again. If he wakes up— if, not when— they agree to say something to Obi-Wan, to let him know that they love him. It’s a meager consolation after all they’ve been through, but this is the end, in one way or another, and they deserve to be honest with him.

(Cody thinks, privately, that he will be— well, not tossed aside, because Obi-Wan isn’t the sort of person who does that, but there won’t be a place for him by Obi-Wan’s side anymore. Obi-Wan is a Jedi, a negotiator, a peacekeeper, and Cody is a soldier for a now-ended war. He is already steeling himself to accept Obi-Wan’s polite rejection with equanimity, to not cause more pain to the man. (It will be easy, he knows, to wish him every peace, every happiness. Cody has only ever wanted to see Obi-Wan happy. This does not mean it will not be painful.) Obi-Wan said once that he would have left the Order for Satine if she’d asked— she will ask, now, and Cody knows Obi-Wan will leave, can see the love written in his face, in his spine, in his hands, whenever he is around her. Satine will ask, and Obi-Wan will leave, and Cody will be left to look for a place in this new galaxy.)

(Satine thinks, privately, that Obi-Wan’s feelings for her must be long faded, replaced by his obvious ones for Cody. Obi-Wan is a warrior, a Knight, and Satine is a diplomat who foreswore violence long ago. She is already steeling herself to accept his rejection with grace. (It will be easy, she knows, to wish him well. She has only ever wanted good things for him. This does not mean it will not be painful.) He said once that he would have left the Order for her if she’d asked, and whatever he’d felt then for her pales to what he feels now for Cody. Cody will ask, and Obi-Wan will leave, and Satine will rule as she always has.)

And then Obi-Wan wakes up.

Cody and Satine let him have his long talk with Anakin first, partially because they know how important it is to him, partially because Anakin wouldn’t let them if they wanted to, and partially because they are dreading their own coming conversation. When Anakin has finished, and Obi-Wan is asleep again, they go in, hand-in-hand, and wait for him to wake up.

When he does wake up, he sees them holding hands and immediately comes to several wrong conclusions. Wrong Conclusion A: Cody and Satine are in love. Wrong Conclusion B: Cody and Satine are going to try to break the news that they’re in love to him gently. Wrong Conclusion C: This conversation is about to break his heart.

Then they speak.

At the end of it, Obi-Wan has some Thoughts. Thought One: alkdfjhskhsgjljlbhkgkjbjvnab,gkjvn;qlerghjsv?????!!!!fwbfwlkrehwogwhuwrijvhfdbhkf!!!! Thought Two: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Thought Three: Oh, we’re all idiots. Fantastic. 

He then passes out, because being on the edge of death for days and then having a shock to your system this big tends to do that to you.

When he wakes up, he is mildly more coherent. Then he sees that Satine and Cody are asleep on each other, and the coherence is lost, but he does manage to wake them up and get across three things:

Thing One: He is desperately in love with them both.

Thing Two: He’s leaving the Order for a multitude of reasons, but they are a Significant Bonus.

Thing Three: He would very much like if they both held his hand while he falls back asleep.

Cody takes Obi-Wan’s right hand, Satine takes Obi-Wan’s left hand, and the three of them stay like that, fingers intertwined, for a long, long, while.

[thehouseoflamentation]

NSFW ,scenario/fic for Lucifer with female MC. Could it be something like Lucifer is trying to contain himself but in the end he can’t, and so well you know ;)?If you could make it so that they’re already in a relationship that would be great. I LOVE everything you write and you’re amazing, I know making a scenario/fic can take too long ,so don’t rush yourself or if you don’t want don’t accept this ask 😘🥰👋👍🥰

Sorry its late ><

Day Off (Lucifer x Fem!MC) ~ NSFW / BREAD ~

It had been a few months since you had started dating Lucifer and you couldn’t be happier. Every day at RAD always felt a bit brighter with him by your side. However this was a school after all. Even though you always made time for each other, midterms were just around the corner and that meant you would see each other less and less until exam day passed. In all honesty it wouldn’t have been a bad idea to get Lucifer’s help when it came to studying but then again one thing always led to another and….well let’s just say it was more likely that you were getting done on the table instead of your homework. Needless to say you couldn’t take that chance with your midterm so you were on your own this time. After hours of cramming, exam day came and went a little easier than you had expected and now that it was over you finally had a full weekend to spend with your boyfriend and you were going to make the most of it.

You started the day off with brunch at Madam Devian’s. After placing your orders at the counter you took a seat by the window and chatted with Lucifer until the server came by with your food. It felt so relaxing spending some quality time together after all that studying and while it might have been a coincidence, perhaps it was that same bliss and excitement that made your fingers slip as you lifted your drink to your lips. Quick to clean up the spill, you grabbed a napkin and started wiping the fabric of your shirt unintentionally pulling it down to reveal a bit of your cleavage.

“Hrkk!! *cough* *cough*”

Before you could get all of the stains out of your shirt, the rattle of your utensils and the sound of your boyfriend having a coughing fit made you snap your head forward in an instant.

“Lucifer are you okay? You sound like you choked on something.”

Taking a moment to still his breathing Lucifer simply waved it off and regained his former composure.

“ Ahem… The coffee was just a bit hotter than I anticipated. I’m fine now so there’s nothing to worry about MC.”

You would have believed him if it weren’t for the slight blush painted across his face. It was rare to see Lucifer so relaxed let alone flustered. There’s no way coffee alone would have done that but you weren’t going to press over little details. It was your day off after all and you were going to enjoy every second of it.

Aside from the incident with your drink, the rest of the meal went on without a hitch. The food was delicious and having Lucifer with you made it all the more delightful. Who could have thought something so simple as sharing a meal together would be so enjoyable. You chatted for some time at the cafe, finally having a chance to really catch up since the exams had taken up so much of your time over the past few weeks. Once you wrapped up your meal and conversation you left Madam Devian’s hand in hand and headed for the next stop on your itinerary for the day.

It wasn’t often that you got the chance to stop by Majolish but now that you finally had some free time a little shopping didn’t sound like a bad idea. Combing through the rows of designer clothes, you picked some outfits for yourself and a couple you thought would look good on Lucifer. It wasn’t long before the two of you headed to the fitting rooms, a small pile of clothes tucked under your arms. As you stepped out of the fitting booth you spun in a small circle giving Lucifer a full view of your outfit. It was a simple sundress with a cut that ended just above your ankles.

“So...how do I look?”

“Stunning”

You couldn’t help but giggle in response. He might not have said much out loud but the way he was looking you up and down was more than enough to tell you what he was thinking. As you slipped back into the changing booth and into another outfit you couldn’t help but think of how fun it would be to see how far you could tease him. The sundress was just the beginning. He had no idea what you were planning and that made it all the more enjoyable. Outfit after outfit, you tried out each of them for Lucifer until you were down to the last item in your pile.

“How about this one~”

Looking up from his D.D.D. Lucifer nearly did a double take as he saw what you were wearing. To say it was revealing would have been an understatement. You had managed to sneak a set of lingerie into your pile of clothes earlier without Lucifer noticing and it was only natural to save the best for last so now here you were clad in form fitting black lace barely covering you as your boyfriend simply stared back, too dazed to say a word.

“You’ve got some nerve tempting me out in public MC.”

You merely bit your lip and smirked back at his remark. If only you were aware of the full impact of your actions, maybe then you’d realize what you’ve gotten yourself into. But since you didn’t, you went along with your little game, eager to find out what Lucifer would do next.

“As much as I would love to punish you right here...”,his tone grew lower as he took a step towards you, his arms folded across his chest,“...that would just be a reward to you now wouldn’t it?”

Cornering you back into the changing booth he handed you your original outfit and closed the door. You gave a quiet huff as you changed back, still slightly miffed that your plan had failed. Sure Lucifer wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of public sex but you thought you could at least get away with a quickie this time. Looking back at the lingerie set, you tucked it beneath some of the other clothes in your pile. Even if he didn’t give you the kind of attention you wanted at the moment there was no doubt in your mind he was going to give it to you later behind closed doors.

Meanwhile, Lucifer stood with his back turned to the door. His arms were still crossed but his fingers gripped onto his arms almost painfully tight as he steadied his breathing and took a moment to calm himself. He knew that you had been looking forward to this date and he wasn’t going to let his lack of control ruin it. Once he let himself indulge in you there was a good chance it would be hard to stop, especially given his current state. All he could do now was hold himself back until you returned home for the night. At least then he could have you to himself for as long as wanted but until then he just had to grin and bear it.

By the time you finished shopping and checked out all your items it was already well into the afternoon which meant you had one more spot to hit before your dinner reservation at Ristorante 6. Normally you would have been fine with having movie night back at the house of lamentation but it was always fun to try something different for a change and now you could be alone with Lucifer without the rest of his brothers causing a fuss. After picking out a movie and grabbing a few snacks at the concessions stand, you both took your seats and waited for the movie to start.

Once the lights dimmed you curled up against Lucifer’s arm and watched as the opening scene started playing. Such a pity that peaceful feeling wasn’t as easily reciprocated. In the dark silence of the theater it was next to impossible to focus on the movie when you were right there next to him. Your hand intertwined with his, your head resting against his should, your intoxicating scent; it was too much to bear for the next two hours and he knew it but he had already come this far and he wasn’t going to let some movie stop him fro-

“Ahhhhh~”

The sound of a woman moaning on screen pulled him out of his thoughts and back into reality. Of all the things the movie could have it just had to have a sex scene right in the middle of it. You didn’t seem to mind it aside from a small blush dusting your cheeks but Lucifer on the other hand had just about reached his breaking point. He had been with you the entire day, taking in your scent, and enjoying your touch without slipping up but there was no way he was going to sit through another minute of this film when he could be doing to you what was being done on screen. Without wasting another moment, Lucifer took his hand in yours and immediately started heading back to the house of lamentation. It was so sudden you barely had a chance to react until you were about halfway there.

“*huff* you wanna *huff* explain why we just ditched our movie?”

“You want a chance to wear that lingerie you bought earlier, correct? Well, I’m giving you that chance.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll explain everything later but all you need to know right now is that the sooner we get back the sooner we can have some fun.”

You didn’t know what caused Lucifer’s sudden change in behavior but you weren’t about to complain. Sensing the desire and neediness that was basically radiating off of him, you knew this was going to be far better than a movie. The trip home felt so much faster than you remember and before you realized it you were back in Lucifer’s bedroom, stripping down as you changed into your new lingerie set even though you knew it wouldn’t stay on for long.

“Like what you see?”

Lucifer’s gaze wandered a moment too long giving you the chance to catch him staring at you and how the fabric perfectly hugged and clung to your body. Without missing a beat Lucifer wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a kiss as he cradled the side of your face with his hand.

“I always do~”

His lips trailed down to the crook of your neck while his teeth dragged across your skin, teasing your senses before finally sinking into you. At the same time, his hands moved under your thighs lifting you off your feet and onto the softness of the bed. His body overlapped your frame as he pressed against you, burying his head in your hair and taking in the irresistible scent you’ve been tempting him with all day. It wasn’t long before he stripped down to his boxers eager to feel the heat of your skin against his.

His gentleness so far was a stark contrast to the feelings that burned within him, something that would soon come to light as his heat and desire for you grew more and more unbearable by the second. His touch was as soft as silk as he slid his hands under the thin cloth that covered your chest. Even as he played with your breasts he was far from satisfied. His lips went back to your neck before moving to suck and bite at the sensitive flesh around your collarbone. With each moan your fingers curled tighter around his hair while your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him even closer to you. You could feel his hardened length pressing against your inner thigh just inches away from your entrance. As he pulled away for a moment you felt his hands trace over your body and finally come to a stop around your hips. Giving you one last look of assurance you felt his finger slip inside of you, rubbing your walls before adding a second then a third digit inside. You gripped the sheets almost hard enough to tear them as you felt his tongue run across your clit and lap up the juices that started to leak down your thighs. At this point you were just as desperate as he was which made it all the more confusing for you when you reached to take off your panties only to have him stop you. Instead, he flipped you onto your stomach and pinned you down from behind before you even had the chance to question him. Moving your panties to the side he didn’t even bother to take them off before he pushed the tip of his dick inside you along with the rest of his length.

Despite how hard he tried to hold back for your sake the entire day, you had worn him down to his core and now that he finally got to be inside you he was going to let all of that tension out. His thrusts started out rough and grew faster and harder each time he crashed his hips into you. His nails dug into your hips almost hard enough to draw blood while his teeth sank into the back of your neck. You felt the bed shift and sink a bit beneath you. As you twisted your head to catch a glimpse of what was happening you felt something soft land on your cheek. A feather. You no longer needed any explanation for what was happening. Even though you’ve had sex with him in his demon form before there was no denying that this level of desperation and lust was due to him being in season. It all made sense now. The reason he was so awkward at breakfast, the reason he ran off during the movie, the reason he cut your date short. He was in heat the entire time and still tried to fight off all his urges just to give you the relaxing day off you wanted.

You had to admit it was rather sweet. Then again as endearing as that thought was you quickly snapped back into reality as one particularly deep thrust made you shudder and tighten around his cock only making him fuck you harder as he grew closer to cumming. As his movements became more and more erratic he loosened his grip from your hips only to squeeze one of your breasts in one hand and play with your clit with the other. The overstimulation pushed you past your limits and with one last deep thrust Lucifer came with you. As you came, your walls clenched around him milking him down to the last drop. With that Lucifer collapsed beside you, his arm curled around your shoulder as he rested his head against yours.

“Umm about today…. I… apologize. I should have told you I was in season from the beginning but I didn’t want to ruin our date. You worked so hard on your midterms and looked forward to it for so long I didn’t want this day to go to waste.”

You couldn’t help but smile in response, “Even though our date didn’t go quite as planned I must admit I couldn’t have asked for a better boyfriend or a better day off than this.”

[charincharge]

AN: Part 3 of that Rowaelin Actress AU you’ve all been asking for. Because y’all are masochists. I’m fully convinced. Anyway. If you missed the first two parts, they’re linked below.

Part 1, Part 2

Manon shot Aelin an exasperated look as her stylist struggled to fix her premiere dress.

The man shoved another pin between his teeth as he pinched up the loose fabric at Aelin’s waist. The once form-fitting red gown fell limply across her bony shoulders.

“How did you lose this much weight in a month, sweetie?” Dorian asked as he tugged the thin straps up, pinning them to show how much he’d need to cut. Aelin ignored the shared look of worry between her team members. She didn’t bother responding. Nothing that would make sense to him, anyway. As his fingers fumbled with the fabric, Aelin looked at herself in the mirror.

Despite her red carpet makeup, she still looked exhausted. And she felt it, too. Her hands shook with the faintest tremor, betraying her withdrawal. And though she’d wanted her hair down in loose waves, her glam squad was shocked to discover that bits of it were breaking off the back. Brittle from malnutrition, one had whispered.

She was trying to kick her drug habit. She really was. It’d been a full day since her last bump, since Arobynn had handed her that small precious baggie of white powder she’d come to treasure so much. But, she wanted to get away from the man who’d controlled every aspect of her life for the last year, and she couldn’t let him have this over her. She’d find another way. She couldn’t bear his steely gaze or his possessive touch on her skin anymore. She’d regretted it as soon as she’d flushed the baggie down the toilet, her hands twitching to reverse the motion and grabbing at it as it swirled down the plumbing. But she knew it was for the best. She could do this.

“Dor, can you make this work?” Manon asked as Dorian sighed loudly.

“Grab me those scissors.” He motioned behind her. Manon handed them over, and he quickly got to work, snipping the straps to help pull the dress up more as he pinned them to the inside of the dress. He took the excess fabric he’d snipped and wrapped it around Aelin’s too-thin stomach in a cinched belt.

“Eh?” he raised his eyebrow in Manon’s direction, who couldn’t resist kissing him on the cheek.

“You’re a miracle worker.”

Dorian’s cheeks flushed slightly as he waved the usually stoic publicist off. “If they ask who’s it is, just say custom couture.”

Manon nodded succinctly and pulled Aelin over to the chair to help her slide into her towering heels.

“Do you need anything before we go?” Manon asked pointedly.

“Nope,” Aelin said, shaking her head. She would not break.

Manon sighed loudly, and ushered her into the black car waiting downstairs. The ride to the premiere was tense and silent, the only sound Manon’s long nails click-clacking away on her phone screen as she replied to a barrage of texts and emails.

The car finally pulled up, and as Aelin was about to exit the vehicle, she felt Manon’s hand clasp gently onto her forearm.

“Hey,” Manon said in a soft voice Aelin had never heard her use before. “I’m proud of you.”

Aelin’s eyes swam with unshed tears at her publicist’s words of affirmation. The brash and cold woman rarely gave anyone any kind of praise, so the words meant more than Aelin could fully process, her heart clenching with an overflow of emotion. She nodded succinctly and exited the car with a wide smile and a big wave for the screaming fans, blinking the tears away as she made her way to the first interview down the long line of press.

Her rehearsed answers came naturally, and she could almost see the end in sight as she looked ahead to the last two press members ahead. She was so close to being able to sit down, so close to being finished with this project and putting it behind her, and sleeping for a month.

She felt Arobynn’s presence behind her before the interviewer acknowledged him. His hand hovered over the bare skin of her back, and she fought the instinct to shiver as the his clammy palm pressed against her.

“There’s my star,” he said with a wide grin, leaning in to kiss Aelin’s cheek lightly. She swallowed back her feeling of disgust, forcing a small smile onto her face as cameras flashed all around her.

“Arobynn! Arobynn!” the photographers cried from every angle. “Can we get a picture of you and Aelin?”

Manon attempted to keep Aelin with the interviewer, insisting they were in the middle, but Arobynn ignored her, pulling Aelin’s toward the step and repeat background for a photo op.

Aelin had planned to do it last, a short walk across the step-and-repeat for photos and then duck into the premiere, but it seemed that her plans had been foiled. Stuck with Arobynn’s hand around her waist, she plastered a smile across her red lips and placed her cocked arm on her bony hip.

Her head looked away from the bright lights of the flashing cameras, suddenly feeling light-headed and overwhelmed, and she caught sight of a head of silver hair and couldn’t help but feel better. She’d made the decision to tell Rowan what was going on with her. It was way overdue, she knew, but it was a conversation she’d wanted to have sober and in person. And today seemed like the perfect opportunity. She’d have the entire movie to gear herself up for it, and then she could find a private place to discuss with him at the afterparty.

“Rowan!” the photographers called out. “Rowan, look over here! Rowan, why don’t you pose with Arobynn and Aelin?”

Aelin held her breath as Arobynn’s fingers dug into her side, grasping at her skin with uncomfortable pressure, as Rowan appeared at Aelin’s other side. His arm ghosted around her shoulders, barely pressing against her as he donned a wide smile for the cameras.

Flashing cameras went wild at the new combination of people in front of them – the director, the star, and the writer – and Aelin attempted to relax her smile to look more natural as she moved her arm to wrap around his sturdy waist.

“Rowan! Who’s your date tonight? New girlfriend?” a loud photographer called, and Rowan just shook his head, smiling graciously. But sure enough, as Aelin looked ahead of them, waiting on the other side of the step and repeat was a stunning blonde woman, staring at Rowan like he was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen.

Aelin’s stomach knotted as a feeling of nausea swept across her chest.

She’d waited too long. She was too late.

If Rowan had brought a date to the premiere and walked the carpet with her, it wasn’t something casual; it was real. Aelin chanced a glance up at him, but as if he could feel her looking, he looked away, over her shoulder at the girl waiting for him. He flashed her a wide smile, his cheeks flushing and his eyes alight with joy.

Aelin hadn’t seen that look in so long. She hadn’t realized how much she’d miss it when it wasn’t directed at her. Her heart pounded, and her skin prickled with goosebumps as a soft sheen of sweat broke across her brow.

Aelin motioned to Manon with a four-fingered wave, their emergency signal to be removed from a situation. Manon’s golden eyes narrowed as she approached the trio, apologizing to the photographers behind her.

“Sorry, folks, I need Aelin!” she said, reaching for Aelin’s limp hand and placing it through her bent arm. Aelin held on for dear life as her publicist swept her down the remainder of the press line, apologizing for needing Aelin inside. Aelin waved with as much enthusiasm she could muster, but her head swam, the floor becoming uneven beneath her feet with each uneasy step.

Manon shoved her into the ladies’ room, ushering everyone else out and locking the door behind her.

“You look green, babe, are you okay?” Manon asked as she helped Aelin sit on the large settee in the bathroom.

“I think I might pass out,” Aelin said, gasping for air. Manon pulled something from her purse as Aelin leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, hoping her clammy skin wouldn’t stain the silk of the gown.

“Eat,” Manon ordered as she shoved a baggie of Teddy Grahams in front of Aelin’s face.

Aelin made a face as she opened the bag with shaky hands. “Movie snack?” she tried to joke, but it fell flat. Manon rolled her eyes and stared harder until Aelin took one of the cookies and placed it in her mouth. She chewed slowly, the sugary sweetness feeling thick and cloying on her tongue.

“I have a toddler,” Manon said, shocking the hell out of Aelin. “I always have snacks in my purse.” Aelin paused her chewing. “Don’t look so surprised,” Manon said with a wry smirk. “Who do you think I’m always texting?”

“Clients?” Aelin croaked.

“Nanny.”

“Can I see a picture?” Aelin asked, and Manon bit her lip, warring with herself before finally showing Aelin a picture of a sweet toddler with honey eyes and Manon’s same white-blonde hair, wearing the cutest fluffiest dress Aelin had ever seen.

Before she could process anything, Aelin’s body heaved. She ran into the stall and heaved up the two cookies she’d consumed, her body expelling the sugary snack as soon as it hit her stomach.

Manon sighed. “What day of withdrawal are you on?”

“Two?” Aelin dabbed at her mouth with toilet paper, spitting the remnants of crumbs ungracefully into the bowl.

Manon helped her stand and sighed even louder. “I can’t believe I’m going to suggest this, but…. You need to make it through the end of the night, and you can’t be passing out or running to the bathroom to puke every ten minutes. Ask Arobynn for a bump.”

Aelin frowned. That was the last thing she wanted to do. She’d had all these plans. But she couldn’t help but agree with her publicist. Plus, it’s not like it mattered anymore. She had no need to explain anything to Rowan anymore, and she certainly didn’t plan on talking to him or his new girlfriend while she was tweaking.

But she wouldn’t resort to asking Arobynn. She couldn’t.

Still, she nodded at her publicist. She’d find some elsewhere.

As she made her way into the theater and took her seat next to Archer, she avoided looking at anyone, despite the heavy pressing feeling of eyes on her back.

Her costar smiled at her, content to excitedly chat about seeing the film for the first time. She noticed he was slightly twitchy, and Aelin nearly clapped for joy when she noticed him rub at his nose.

“Partying without me?” she whispered, and Archer shot her a dubious look.

“I didn’t think you partied with anyone but our director, Galathynius,” he said lowly.

“I’m branching out,” she said as she leaned forward. She placed her hand on his tux-clad arm and gave him the most seductive smile she could possibly feign with as little energy as she had. But it seemed to work. Archer’s eyes flashed, and he returned her expression with a roguish grin.

“Well, then,” he said, resting his hand on her silken thigh. “Find me at the party.” He winked at her, and she chuckled softly, squeezing his hand before placing it back in his own lap.

A harsh whisper made Aelin’s neck prickle behind her as she heard a hushed female voice say her name. She glanced over her shoulder and watched as Rowan nodded in response to the woman whispering in his ear. Their faces were so close, and Aelin could feel herself growing nauseous again.

Instead, she whipped her head back toward the screen and let herself zone out as the lights dimmed. She barely remembered the movie; it crossed her vision but never penetrated her consciousness. Memories of her and Rowan, tangled in his bed and running lines pervaded her senses.

When she arrived at the party, she knew she had to seek out Archer immediately. She was fading fast.

She’d just spotted him when Rowan crossed her path. His warm smile made her stomach flutter.

“Aelin.” Her name on his lips was everything she wanted, but her eyes pulled to the woman waiting beside him. “I was looking for you. I wanted to introduce you to—”

Aelin couldn’t bear to be introduced to Rowan’s girlfriend, though. Not yet. Not before she’d drowned herself in a white haze of drugs.

She spotted Archer out of the corner of her eye, and she smiled graciously, not wanting to be rude. “Sorry, I’ll come find you in a minute. I just have to…”

She pointed over his shoulder at Archer, who grinned lasciviously and winked at her, beckoning her with a curling finger.

Rowan’s expression changed to something she couldn’t quite parse out, but she didn’t have time to anyway. She was a woman on a mission as she followed Archer into the coat closet, cutting up half a baggie and snorting it quickly.

“Shit,” Archer laughed. “Some of that was for me! That was a big fucking bump.”

The white crystals worked quickly, creating a swirl of relaxation in her body, making her feel invincible. Instead of letting him take the last bump, Aelin leaned down and took it for herself.

“You snooze, you lose,” she laughed loudly, feeling loose and confident as she stumbled out of the coat closet.

Her heel snagged the bottom of her dress, and she launched forward into the arms of someone waiting just outside the closet. She fell into a hard chest with a loud oomph, and she couldn’t resist laughing again, feeling better and better as the drugs worked their way through her system.

She looked up to see the arms that had caught her and smiled guiltily at Rowan’s pained face. She blinked, hoping to change his expression, but with each slow blink, the image of Rowan faded away. She reached out, grasping for his face, pleading with him to stay, but before she could touch him, he disappeared. Her heart pounded too fast in her chest, and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to calm herself.

“Aelin?” a faraway voice called. “Aelin?”

She could just barely hear him over the rush of blood in her ears. It swirled and swooshed around her ears, deafeningly loud as the world faded to white.

~*~

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[amazingdriverfics]

Making up

Hey, I missed some Sackler and thought of this, surprise surprise, instead of sleeping. It’s currently 2 am where I live and here I am. Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

Word Count: 3.6k 

Warnings: lil bit of angst, language, smut, bisexual reader

Pairing: Adam Sackler x Reader

Summary: the last time you had seen him made you wish you would never do it again

Sitting in the chair next to the play director, you waited patiently as the actors one by one performed for their audition, it was boring, frustrating and you were almost throwing a chair at the stage. God, when did actors become so fucking terrible at their jobs? A deep voice took you from your thoughts back to what was happening right in front of you. 

“Uh, hello. I’m Adam Sackler and I’m here to try for the role of George”. No way, this was not happening, there was absolutely no way that after all these years you were going to have to deal with him again, not after how things ended. As soon as you gathered courage to look at the stage your fear was confirmed, your ex-best friend was standing right there, and just by seeing the start of his performance you knew he would be the one to star it next to you. Adam always was an excellent actor, he could make you feel every single emotion he wanted, his every movement, facial expression and voice tone in character. Even in college, Sackler was simply explendid in what he did and that was one of the things you used to admire more in him.

6 years ago 

In your room, already dressed, you hummed a pop melody you had been obsessed with while you finished your makeup. You intended to look the best you possibly could, that night was the night you had decided to finally talk to the girl you had been crushing hard for a couple of months. You met Angie in your part time job in the book shop in campus, she was a History major student who worked with you at mondays and thursdays, she always engaged in small talks with you and you did your absolute best not to gag while talking to the purple haired girl. One of the fraternities was throwing a party and you had invited her to come with you and your best friend slash roommate Adam Sackler. 

You had moved into his place as soon as you went to college, the rent was something you could definitely afford, you would live 5 minutes away from the campus and with another acting major. At first, you found Adam very strange, the 6’3” foot man would get out of his room shirtless to have a drink of milk in the middle of the night and usually acted like you were not there while doing it, he would also engage in very strange topics, he hated when you brought any of your friends home and had very loud sex. You started to like Sackler when he helped you studying for a test, that was the first time the two of you had a decent talk. Ever since, you were inseparable, every night you would sit on the couch and watch some sitcom while judging the script and acting skills of the actors, you always went to bed with your tummy hurting from how much you had laughed. At the time, you had even developed a crush in the man, but he never gave you any signs that he felt the same so you dropped it, happy to call him your best friend. 

“Are you ready? Your crush is here” Adam said bringing his head into your room and taking your mind off your thoughts about the man himself. “Oh my God, I’ll be there in a minute” you said applying one last coat of mascara. “Wait, Adam” you screamed making his head appear again. “What is it, kid?” his eyes met yours. “Do I look good?” you asked spinning around and showing all of you. “As usual, you are stunning. Now, let’s get going” the man stated leaving you again. 

Slowly, you made your way to the living room watching as your best friend talked to Angie, her mere presence already making you nervous. She was so so beautiful, her purple hair was in a messy bun, she was wearing a tight black dress which hugged her body perfectly and high heels to finish the look. “H-hi, Angie, you are very pretty to-tonight” you gagged, cursing yourself for making a fool of yourself. As an attempt to calm you down, Sackler brought his right hand to your lower back. “You look very good yourself, y/n” your crush replied making your face become instantly red. “T-thank you” you replied as the three of you made your way out of your home to the party, Adam leading the way. 

Getting to the party was easy, you three walked for about six minutes and you were already in the place, the sound blasting with dancy tunes, booze smell all around and a few couples making out in the grass in front of the house. The start was pretty fun, Sackler was the first to go solo - as usual - probably meeting some of his classmates or, more likely, already sucking someone’s lips out of their faces. You, on the other hand, was finally alone with Angie. After getting some drinks on the kitchen, the two of you made your way to the dancefloor, her body sensually touching yours as she danced against it, her head on your shoulder, it wasn’t long before your hands found her waist pressing her even more to you. The woman turned around and her black eyes met yours as she closed the distance between your faces sealing your lips with a deep hungry kiss. Unfortunately for you, after a while of heavy making out, Angie had to excuse herself to go to the bathroom. Her absence was starting to get too long making you nervous and worried that something might be happening.

It wasn’t long before you found her. 

Angie’s purple hair was what instantly made you recognize her, she was kissing someone else and it didn’t take you much to recognize that someone as well, his black hair, tall and broad figure dressed in white shirt and jeans were impossible to mistake, you just couldn’t believe that your best friend was kissing the girl you had been talking about ceaselessly in the past months, Adam Sackler was such a jerk. Before you could stop yourself, you poked his shoulder forcing his mouth to disconnect with Angie’s as his head turned around to face you. You didn’t give him a chance to say anything since as soon as his eyes met yours, your hand hit his face making a loud slap noise muffled by the song. Shortly after, you were out of the house making your way back home. 

That night ended even more terribly, the two of you had fought and said very mean things about each other, in the following day you were out there as you moved to a common dorm. Until this very moment you had never seen Sackler again. 

Fortunately, as soon as Adam finished the audition and the director said she would call him to tell if he got in, the man left the auditorium, causing you to, instantly, feel lighter knowing that you wouldn’t have to deal with him today. 

Oh boy, you were wrong. You only found out how wrong you were the minute you left the theatre when suddenly a hand pulled you from the direction you had been going. Your face stopped just a few inches before colliding with a defined chest that for you had just seen a couple of minutes ago. 

“What do you want, Sackler?” you asked, your tone showing your discomfort with the situation. “Hello for you too, kid. After all these years you are still mad at me?” the familiar voice you had listened to so much years ago filled your ears. “After all that bullshit you said to me? What do you think?” you gritted through your teeth getting angrier by the minute. “I was a dick to you, I know and believe it or not, I’m sorry. I have an explanation for what happened that night” he replied with a pout and giving you the same puppy eyes he used to give you when he wanted you to cook dinner. You laughed, “This is going to be good, but we are not doing this in the middle of the street, come” you said unable to resist his supplicating face. 

Stepping away from the man, you started to walk to your car parked just in front of the theater. Not hearing his heavy footsteps following, you turned to face him once again finding out that Sackler was still in the same damn spot you had left him in. “Are you coming?” you asked. As a reply you got an nervous nod from your ex-friend that quickly was getting in the car with you. The drive was filled with an awkward silence, neither of you knew what to say, things had ended badly and even though it had been a long time ago, losing your best friend because he couldn’t keep his tongue to himself still hurted a bit. Thankfully, the theater wasn’t far from your place, a three store building you had been living for two years, ever since you got the job in the acting company. There wasn’t a garage so you parked right outside not waiting for Adam as you made your way to the building’s front door, climbing its dark stairs while you looked for your keys in the mix of throwed things inside your purse. By the time you were finally able to open it, he was by your side switching his balance in between his legs. 

As soon as you entered your living room taking off your shoes and letting your purse by the dinning table, you turned to Sackler anxious for what he had to say. In the months which followed the big fight, you had wished to speak to him a lot, but your pride just wouldn’t allow it, you had missed him a lot too, but eventually you gave up and finally let yourself leave what had happened in the past, however, seeing him in front of you took you right back to those months where you foolishly hoped that he would come to beg you for forgiveness or that you would gather the courage to confront the man and solve things. 

“You can start whatever it is that you are planning to do” you said, doing your best to keep your emotions from showing in your face as you grabbed a cup of water trying to prepare yourself for what was coming your way. Adam swallowed dry before his voice met your ears. “Hm. Well, like I said before, I was a jerk to you and I know it and I also know that I probably should have looked for you earlier to say this” he started, his voice kinda shaky from the nervousness you could see in his body language. “You swear?” you mocked, a dry laugh following it. “I deserve this. See, kid, I read in a newspaper last week a review about your performance in the last play you theater company did and the minute your face showed up I was like ‘fuck this is the incredible girl I, yet again, pushed away being a total dick who can’t express his fucking feelings’. And I-i knew that I had to fix it, sure, maybe it is too late to, but I had to give it a try, I thought to myself.” he stopped looking into your eyes waiting for a reaction which caused you to nod interested in what Sackler had to say. “So I enrolled myself for the next male role they were auditioning for thinking of meeting you. I wasn’t expecting to see you at the try out, guess I was lucky” he shrugged “Here goes nothing. You see, kid, when you moved in, the first thing that went through my mind was ‘this woman is fucking hot’, but I was also really scared of  being too fucking weird and end up pushing you away, I’m a master at doing this kinda shit, ya’ know, so I stayed away. That was until I saw you dying to pass in that dick Jefferson’s test and decided to help you out. You were sweet, funny and kind.” you still remembered the day vividly, it held a special place in your heart and knowing that it did the same to him, made you softer causing your indiferent facade to melt away.

“And shit, ever since then you were so fucking present in my day, helping me out with my shit, watching those stupid fucking sitcoms and judging them with me. I fell for you and it scared the shit out of me so I didn’t do anything. Then you started to talk about that Angie girl, and I didn’t even want to kiss her, but you were so fucking into the woman that the only way I figured out for pushing you away from her was fucking her. I don’t even know what the hell I was thinking, you know I’m not a very smart guy with feelings. When you catched me with her I could see in your eyes how much I fucked up so, as I made my way home, I built up some walls around me trying to keep the situation from hurting me, which didn’t work. So when I found you at our place instead of apologizing like I should’ve done, I screamed and called you names. When you left the other day I was so fucking embarrassed and heartbroken that I never went looking for you to have this stupid conversation I’m having now, six years too late.” Adam finished making you even more angry than you were before.

“Unbelievable. You are so fucking stupid, Sackler. You have zero emotional intelligence, for fucks sake. I wanted to kiss you so bad when we started to hang out, but you didn’t give any fucking signal back. Think for a second of how much easier all of that would have been. God dammit, you need to talk to people. If you had told me any of your feelings I would have never have fallen for Angie, your gigantic idiot.” you throwed up the words, mad at the man for causing a huge problem that should have never even existed. “You liked me back?” he said, voice above a whisper. “You bet your sorry ass I did, jer-”, you were stopped when his lips met yours all out of the sudden. 

At first, you didn’t kiss him back still mad at him, but the part of you that never stopped missing Adam eventually won. You closed your eyes and allowed your hands to embrace his neck, your nails slowly scratching the part where his hair met the skin. As a reply, Sackler’s hand grabbed your ass tightly, squeezing it hard making you moan into his mouth and sending pleasure to your core. “Eager, are we?” he said mocking your red face and the little grunts that ended up escaping your mouth and dying in his. “Shut up, Sackler” you replied embarrassed at your own need. “Your wish is an order” he purred next to your ear before taking your earlobe into his mouth teasing it with his teeth, up next, his mouth started to make its way to your breasts leaving a tray of purple and red marks along the way. “Let’s take this thing off” he said as his hands held to the bottom of your shirt lifting it up as quickly as he possibly could. When the piece of clothing met the floor, his eyes met your exposed nipples since you weren’t wearing anything under the shirt.

“Such a fucking slut, walking out there without a bra, begging for these to be sucked” he said, his deep voice dripping with arousal as his fingers teased your hard nubs. “I guess I’ll be the one to teach you some fucking manners”. As soon as the words left his mouth, he let go of your right nipple replacing his fingers with his tongue and slapping your ass hard making you squirm under his ministrations. Shortly after, his tongue gave espace to his teeth as he carefully bit your nub. “M-more” you whispered, your cunt aching for his touch. 

“More what?” Sackler replied his eyes with a mischievous glam looking directly into your as he gave your other ass check a hard slap making you groan. “Answer me, slut” he demanded, his roughness and dirty talk making you wetter. “More. Puh-lease, sir” your voice echoed through the room foreign to you since it was shaky from all the need and pleasure you were simultaneously feeling. “That’s more how I like it” the man stated taking all of his clothing of. “Undress and get on the couch” was all he said before starting to pump his length slowly, teasing its tip and gathering the precum oozing from it for lubricate his movements. 

Your body reacted before your brain could form a coherent thought, in instants, your pants and panties were on the floor connecting the way from the door to the couch and you were on your hands and knees in its comfy surface, your breath loud and heavy as you watched Adam touching himself, your anticipation killing you slowly. As he closed the distance between the two of you, his hands never stopped touching his big and hard erection. It wasn’t long before he was behind you, his index finger from the free hand slowly going up and down your folds never touching your sore stiff clit. “You are such a filthy thing. We barely started and you are already dripping. Your sweet pussy begging for my big cock to tear it”, all you could do besides moaning a serie of ‘please’s was nod your head several times hoping that it would encourage him to end your pain. “You want me to make you cum? Beg for it, slut” he purred, none of his hands quitting their movements. “Please, please, sir, make me cum, make me feel so fucking good, like only you can” you begged desperate for it. 

The reply you gave seemed to please him enough since his finger finally touched your clit causing you to release a relieved noise and allow your head to fall between your arms. While circling it, he took his other hand inserting two fingers in your slickery hole, curling them and hitting your g spot over and over again, following the same rhythm his other finger circled your clit applying just the right amount of pressure on it. Soon, your release was getting closer, your eyes started to close as you focused on every sensation Sackler made you feel. When your orgasm hit, you were sent to another dimension, pleasure coursing through your every atom as you moaned his name. 

After you recovered from your intense climax, Sackler took his fingers away from your pussy, substituting them with his thick and long erection, stretching you open in ways you had never been before, every inch making your feel fuller. When he was finally done, his filthy words filled the air once again “Y-you are so fucking tight, you are strangling my damn cock”. His sheer length was making you squirm already, but every word that left his mouth make you unconsciously clench your cunt around him. As soon as you got accustomed to his size, you threw your hips back, a sign that he could start moving. Quickly, he was pounding in and out of you, in and out of you, in a merciless pace which made the sound of his pelvis meeting your ass echo loudly through the living room, your moans just as loud. Sackler’s hands were gripping your waist so tight that you knew it would bruise - not that you really cared -. 

“Ur so fucking good to me - jesusfuckingchrist - I wished I had fucked this pussy earlier”, you tried to sassy him since he was the one to blame, but he was fucking you so well that you couldn’t form a understandable phrase, all that left your mouth were whimpers as you felt his cock filling you perfectly and hitting your cervix in a unbelievable pace. “You can’t talk back, slut?” he gave a strangled laugh “Like you better l-liike that”. 

Taking one of his hands out of your waist, he took it to your clit rubbing it quickly and  pressuring it deliciously, taking you closer to the edge with every passing second. The fullness you were feeling and the electricity your nub filled with blood was sending to your brain making you tighter. It wasn’t long before you climaxed for the second time, losing the strength of your arms as your body shook, if it wasn’t for his grip you would have fell with your face directly on the couch. “Sweetfuck, you are milking my cock, shitshit”.

His pace became irregular and it wasn’t long before he took his erection out of you painting your ass and back with his release. Gently, Sackler laid you on the couch asking you where the bathroom was. When he returned with a towel to clean you up, you were watching a sitcom - you had put it on after using all you strength left to pick the remote - waiting for him. “After you clean your mess, let’s watch it like the old times” you said shaking your head towards the tv. 

“If you insist” he said with a smile on his beautiful face.

[god7072therescue]

Mysme Fluff Week 2020 Day 3/ Household Chores

Hello everyone!! I know its been a loooong while, but I am wanting to dip my toes back into writing and reviving this blog! I thought the perfect way to do this is to contribute to the amazing fluff of @mmfluffweek. We all need this right now, right? So here is one of my contributions to this hella cool project! 

The fic is about Zen cleaning his apartment when MC is about to move in. Hope You guys like it! 

You can find my master list here! 

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Zen wore a large grin on his face as he stared at the time on his cell phone. It was almost midnight, early in the evening for him. A picture of MC and himself holding one another in a playful embrace let out a bright light among the dark space around him. He watched a minute pass before he turned his phone off and leaned back into his chair with a content sigh. 

Tomorrow was finally the day MC would be moving into his apartment. Not just staying the night, nor staying for a weekend, but actually living with him. She would never have to pry herself away from his too tight hugs when she would have to return home again. The thought made Zen feel giddy, almost like he was back in high school reading through theater scripts for the first time. 

His eyes scanned over the apartment, trying to imagine the little touches she would add as she made herself at home. How many of her paintings would she hang on the walls? How much of his and her stuff would have to be put in storage so the two could live in a harmonious space? Whatever the answer was, he knew it would be the best because MC would finally be living with him. This would become their home. 

However, the longer Zen inspected the apartment, he began to notice some aspects that would need to change when MC arrived. Has his place always been this messy? There were empty beer cans laying on the ground along with sheet mask wrappers from the nights before. Were those crumbs on the carpet always there when MC stayed over? Dust was on almost every surface, especially on his dinosaur of a computer. Would he finally be able to get rid of his outdated computer? MC had jokingly mentioned that she would be bringing her PC with her to replace Zen’s relic of a computer. He pouted playfully at the time but was secretly relieved because damn the thing was terribly slow. 

A rising feeling of urgency began to rush through him. Did he expect his jagiya to come live in this? This environment was no place for MC! MC deserved to arrive to a spotless apartment to create her new home with him. He called her his princess on a daily basis, but this new palace is definitely not worthy of her. As he pondered the thought longer, he came to wonder how in the hell MC dealt with this constantly cluttered space. He could use his busy lifestyle as an excuse, but MC was just as busy as he was and still managed to keep her apartment decent at least. 

Zen sprung to his feet in a slight panic as he realized just how little time he had to clean the apartment before her early morning arrival. If he worked efficiently and effectively, he could manage to make the apartment bearable. This meant Zen could not afford to find items he thought were lost and stand around to reminisce about them. He threw his ivory hair into a ponytail as he began to make a mental list of what to focus on first.

Thus, began the long evening of Zen’s cleaning journey. His journey consisted of and is not limited to: 

Making a valiant effort to avoid nostalgia but failing miserably every time he would find a lost photo or ticket stub 

Wondering how one man could consume so much beer in a short amount of time

Quickly throwing out cigarette boxes found in mysterious places

Being amazed at how much of his and MC’s hair was found lying around 

Throwing out all of his sauces because they were expired

Hastily washing, drying, and folding laundry 

Putting the dinosaur computer out of its misery 

Creating a coin jar for all of the loose change he found

Cursing Yoosung for the amount of potato chip bags and crumbs under the cushion of the couch

Sweeping, mopping, and vacuuming in a near sprint

Tripping over the vacuum cord multiple times 

The bathroom

By the time Zen considered his cleaning activities dealt with, he collapsed into clean bedsheets at 5:00 AM. He was startled awake by a loud knock on his apartment door. The sudden, loud noise caused him to jolt out of bed with a loud curse. “Hyun? Are you awake?” The familiar voice soothed the panic in Zen’s chest. It was his MC at the door, waiting to be let in one last time before she had a key of her very own. Just the thought of it brought a lopsided smile to Zen’s face. “Give me a moment, jagiya!” He had his teeth brushed, deodorant on, and a baseball cap on his head in record time before he greeted his jagiya. He laughed lightly when he heard the light pings of a mobile rhythm game MC had played around him a good bit. When he opened the door, he reveled in the sight of her angelic face scrunched up in determination. “Now you give me a moment, “She muttered in sheer concentration, “I’m about to beat this level.” He leaned against the doorway as he watched her. She looked ready to put in some work based on the outfit she chose for the day. Her hair was thrown under a baseball cap, an old paint stained T-shirt he’d seen her take naps in, and a pair of his old grey sweatpants she took from him early in their relationship had never looked so beautiful on her. MC let out a soft “yes” in victory then quickly put her phone in her pocket. Her eyes looked joyous when she lifted her head to speak with him, but they quickly turned concerned when she saw the dark circles under Zen’s eyes. “Zenny, did you get any sleep last night?” She brought her hand up to softly cup his cheek, “You look exhausted.” Zen was caught up peering deeply into the depths of her warm eyes before giving MC a sheepish smile, “I was too excited to sleep.” That was not a lie. He just didn’t want to tell her he spent the entire night frantically cleaning. Her face was slightly flushed in worry, but all of the cleaning he had done the night before was all worth it. Her being happy and comfortable was what mattered most to him. Losing a few hours of sleep was a small price to pay.

His eyes roamed over her face to memorize exactly how she looked before him. This was an important milestone for the two of them, he wanted to make sure he captured the moment. Maybe they could take a picture as a memento if she was not too tired after this.

Over the course of their relationship, Zen wondered if she could get anymore beautiful with each passing day. Today was not an exception. Her face was bare, probably because she knew she would be sweating during the day. She had always been self-conscious without make up, but he could not understand why. She was stunning regardless. He had always told her he would find his jagiya gorgeous whether she wore makeup or not. She looked at him with a glowering expression before standing on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the lips. The feeling of her soft lips caused him to lose his train of thought for a moment, so much so, he missed the bill of her baseball cap forcing his own to fall off of his head. She giggled as she leaned back to see his bed head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.” The timbre of her voice was playful as she picked up his hat for him. She handed it back with a content sigh. The look on her face was one he recognized from their time together. This relaxed expression was what she wore when she was curled up on the couch reading her favorite book with a lit candle on the nightstand beside her. This expression meant she felt comfortable. At home. 

He took the hat from her gently and placed it back on his head. A newfound energy was flowing through him as he looked down at her serene, beautiful face. He was ready to experience the scenarios he had imagined of her making a place in his home and it looked like she was too. “You ready to start our little adventure, jagiya?” He held out his hand to her as he pushed himself from the doorframe. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it lightly, almost in an unspoken promise. “I’ve been looking forward to this for months, Hyun.” 

Hearing his name from her lips filled his chest with pride as he began to lead them down the hallway. “Then let’s make it happen, jagiya.” 

With the combined determination of the couple, they were able to move all of her belongings into the apartment by late afternoon. Zen made a point to carry as many boxes as he could to show MC how strong her prince is. He also didn’t want her to overexert herself; his princess deserved to be taken care of. 

Now thoroughly exhausted, Zen sat on the couch as he watched MC unpack her belongings while humming to herself. Little trinkets she had collected over the years were piling up on Zen’s coffee table as she organized them by which room they would be in. She looked as if she was already at home. The domestic aura was enough for him to let his mind wander towards the future. Is this what having a family meant?

MC had always had this effect on him, no matter where they were or what they were doing. He didn’t feel the constant need to defend and fight for the right to be loved as he did when he lived with his parents. Since the beginning, MC had always supported Zen and made him feel valued. Hell, after one week she had made him feel more loved than he had ever felt in his life.

This milestone felt like a second chance at finding and building his own family with her. 

He was pulled from his thoughts when MC plopped on the couch beside him, pulled her legs underneath her, and leaned into his side. She rested her head on his shoulder as he immediately placed his arm around her. 

“Did you clean the apartment for me, Hyun?” Her voice was laced with appreciation as she lifted her head slightly so she could study his face. 

His cheeks flushed slightly in embarrassment as he pulled her closer to him. “Well of course, jagiya, my princess deserves the absolute best.” She kissed his cheek before nestling her head back on his shoulder. “It looks wonderful, Hyun. Thank you.” He felt her relax into his side as she looked around the apartment herself. There were still many boxes that needed to be unpacked and almost all of the rooms needed to be rearranged, but they both knew it would all be worth it in the end. 

She took his hand in hers and began to idly stroke the inside of his palm. The feeling of her fingers grazing against his skin brought him a sense of peace. He made a soft noise of approval and placed a small kiss on the top of her head. This was exactly what Zen imagined every day since the two had started dating. Just the two of them enjoying each other’s presence, not thinking of when one would have to leave the other. 

“Let’s have a relaxing night tonight, Hyun,” MC said in a tranquil voice, “The boxes will be here tomorrow.” Zen’s heart melted at her suggestion. “That sounds absolutely perfect, MC.” The evening consisted of face masks, take out, massages, and a movie marathon before the two dozed off in the each other’s arms on the couch. Just as Zen was dozing off, thoughts of MC feeling like home drifted through his mind.

[okk--maaan]

Hello :) it's the anon who requested the headcanons on how Charlie would take care of a partner who had experience with bad relationships. I absolutely LOVED how you wrote that/handled that and I was wondering if you could tell me how Charlie would be with a lover who is curvy and a bit insecure about that? -🦕

Hello my dear!! Oohh! If you’re gonna use the dino emoji can I call you Lil Foot (I can’t think of any other cute/clever nicknames lol)? I’m SO glad you liked the last thing I wrote for you - I was a lil worried about it for a minute!

Instead of HCs, I wrote you a whole lil (wow I say lil a lot) ficlet this time!  It definitely turned into smut - WHOOPS! When I started outlining it I literally wrote -- in my notebook with a pen -- ‘ok this gone get real nasty’. I hope that’s ok and I hope it gives what you were looking for! And let me say that I and any of the boys I will ever write for LOVE AND APPRECIATE AND ACCEPT ALL BODY TYPES!!! Thicc Thighs Save Lives is a longstanding motto here!!

Also I’m a bad writer so it takes me forever to write anything (and my ADHD and anxiety be like nah fam) and I did very little editing to this so sorry for all of those things.

Word Count: ~2k

CW: curvy/plus size RC, body insecurity, smuuttt, like one mention of spanking, slightly Dom!Charlie (?), alcohol consumption, fluffiness (’cause ‘course), lots of build up (what can I say? I like foreplay), bad grammar

“Charlie,” you whine standing in front of your open closet, still in your robe. You couldn’t believe what you were looking at. He really wanted you to wear this tonight? And he really wanted you to wear that underneath?

Hanging neatly on the inside of the closet door was a slinky red dress -- that you knew was going to be way too tight -- and a meticulously matched set of lacey lingerie. Silently judging you. ‘Nope’ you thought to yourself, ‘Not happening’.

Just as you start rummaging through your wardrobe for one of your other perfectly fine, perfectly comfortable dresses, Charlie steps into the bedroom. Sensing his presence, you turn to find him already fully dressed. He’s wearing a charcoal gray suit, tapered and tailored precisely to his body, and a slim navy blue tie. His black oxfords look freshly polished and his neatly parted hair is almost as shiny.

“Wow. You look nice,” you say with a bit of a bite as you pivot back to the task at hand. It wasn’t fair that he was able to look that sophisticated and handsome with such little effort.

Hearing your bitterness, he cautiously moves in closer, rests a large hand on your back. “What’s wrong honey? You don’t like what I picked out for you?” He nods his head towards the offending articles of fabric.

Without losing any heat in your voice, you shoot back, “Well Mr. Barber. I don’t think your lovely gifts here are going to exactly accentuate my figure!” Oohh maybe that was a little harsh. But Charlie never falters, takes you in stride, like he always does.

“Baby,” he says in that way that just makes your heart -- and every other part of your body -- melt. “I wouldn’t have picked these things for you if I didn’t think you were going to look absolutely stunning in them.” With that, he places a loving peck to your forehead and steps back to sit on the bed. “Please, honey, put them on. For me.”

And only because you have such a weakness for when he talks to you like that, do you undo the tie on your robe, place it in the closet, and begin timidly dressing yourself in his gifts.

Even with your back to him, you can feel Charlie’s gaze boring into. Studying. Studying the way your hips and thighs round out as you stand naked in front of him. The way your backside swells as you bend down to step into your panties. The way the soft curve of your breasts peeks out as you reach up to loop your arms through your bra.

Charlie can already feel himself stirring under his suit pants.

As soon as you pull the dress straps over your shoulders, he’s back to standing behind you, hand on your zipper. “Let me, sweet thing,” he whispers into your skin, right against that tender spot between your neck and shoulder. His lips never leave you as he closes you up. Once the zipper reaches the top, he shifts back to observe you fully. Admire.

Even technically fully clothed, you can’t help but feel self-conscious exposed with the way the fabric hugs your body. Instinctually, you go to wrap your arms around your middle, to try to hide. But apparently Charlie can read minds and he’ll have none of that. His long fingers wrap gently, knowingly around each of your wrists. He places another kiss to that spot on your neck and whispers, “beautiful.”

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

The theater is dark, aside from the few soft spotlights that glow over the actors on stage. It’s quiet enough that you can hear Charlie beside you, scribbling in his notebook.

But he’s not focusing on what he’s writing nearly as much as he should be. Instead of the words on the page, all he can see are images of you pulling on that dress. All he can think about is that memory of your supple skin, wanting to map out every inch. If he wasn’t trying so hard to get these damned notes down, his hands would be all over you.

Those thoughts alone are enough to get him growing in his pants again. 

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

With your second glass of wine in your hand, you are finally starting to relax a little. You lost Charlie to the hustle and bustle of the after party some time ago. But that’s ok. You understand there are certain duties he must fulfill as the director on opening night. When you find each other again, you can tell he’s already had several scotches by the flush in his cheeks and slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. And that’s also ok. He deserves to celebrate tonight after all those months of hard work.

When his eyes lock with yours, his pupils are blown black and wide and there’s something behind them other than just a few drinks. He doesn’t interrupt the conversation you’re having, just places a hot hand on your ass. And squeezes. It takes everything in you not to squeal outright in front of your friends and Charlie’s cast. He leans down to murmur into your ear, “let’s go home now.” His words are slurred just slightly but their meaning rings through you crystal clear. He composes himself enough to turn to the small crowd that’s gathered and excuse the two off you. And before you have a chance to say the rest of your goodbyes, he’s whisking you out the door.

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

The second the doorknob to Charlie’s apartment latches closed, his hands lips tongue are all over you. You have little time to catch your breath before his hot hot mouth is on yours, prying you open. You can taste the remnants of alcohol on his breath. With his hands on your waist he’s pulling pulling pulling you further through the foyer and into the living room. As you stumble around corners and furniture, he mumbles against you, “You looked so good tonight baby. So fucking sexy. Mmnhh I love you in this dress. I was getting so hard just looking at you.”

“Charlie,” you gasp as he suddenly breaks all contact, leaving you disoriented, and plops down on the couch. His legs are spread wide and his chest is heaving.

“Take this off baby,” he leans forward to pinch at your thigh, just above the hem of your dress.

“Uh-huh,” you bob your head up and down until it tips back and your eyes close and your hands reach behind you for your zipper. You tilt your chin down and open your eyes to him when the zipper reaches the bottom. Your arms fall to your sides knowing he’s in charge right now. He’ll tell you how he wants you next.

“Turn around sweet thing,” he instructs, more breath than words.

Somehow more heat rushes through your body, through your face, neck, fingers, thighs, toes. You’re already so hot too hot. You cross one heeled foot in front of the other and spin to face away from him. Behind you, you hear the clink clink of Charlie’s belt buckle followed by his own zipper sliding down. Then the sound of fabric rustling, bunching up. You know he’s stroking himself now. Watching you.

“Pull it down. Slowly.”

You do as you're told. Of course you do. You want this just as badly as he does. You push the straps down your arms and over your plump chest, breath ragged. You let the dress pool atop your full hips and wait for further direction.

Charlie huffs out a light life, reveling in how good you’re being for him. “Keep going baby.”

With one final shove, the crimson cloth slides down your thick thighs before falling around your ankles. Charlie groans, deep and guttural. Goosebumps spring up over your newly exposed flesh, assaulted by the cool air and Charlie’s sounds.

“Take your bra off.”

That one was easy. You unhook the clasp and let it hit the floor with your dress.

And you wait again. Wait. Wait. You listen to Charlie’s deep breathing and picture him slowly pulling up down up down on his length. Your pussy drips then clenches at the thought. You’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to stand.

“Bend over baby.”

Ever so slowly, you lower your torso, brace yourself on your shins.

You hear movement behind you again. Charlie moves off the couch to rest on his knees. Eye level with your ass. You feel his fingertips trace lightly up your thighs, exploring. More goosebumps. A moan escapes your throat. “Nnnnhh yes sweet thing,” he says. Then another squeeze. “Mmm so soft.” He relishes in the way your flesh gives for his fingers. Mesmerized by the way he can leave little dimples where he presses. He inches closer to graze his lips across each leg. “I love you so much baby. I love your body. You’re so perfect.” His words send a shock from the crown of your head to your needy core. You need him.

“Charlie please. Give me something. Anything,” why was he teasing you like this? You know you hadn’t drank nearly as much as him, but now it felt like you did.

Mischievously he responds, “Oh I’ll give you something.” With one swift movement, he rips down your panties -- probably ruining them -- and buries his face in your pussy. “Ahhh!” is the only answer you have. He lavishes scorching open mouth kisses over your slick lips, occasionally brushing your stiff clit with his tongue. “Mmmm you really are so sweet baby,” he groans against you. Losing yourself, all you can do is chant, “Yes yes yes.” With one final suck, he pulls off. He sticks two of his fingers in his mouth, getting them nice and wet and warm for you, then shoves them into you. While he pumps in and out of you, he kisses your thighs, nips at your ass and asks, “Are you ready for my cock sweet thing?” His hands fill you to the brim, but they’re never enough, never compare to his cock. “Yes Charlie ! Yes! Please!” After a few more thrust, he withdraws his digits, smacks one of your bare cheeks loving the way it shakes, and returns to the couch.

“Come here my beautiful flower,” he holds his full proud dick up for you. You more than happily lower yourself over him, hands on his knees, just enough for him to drag his swollen head through your folds. When he feels he’s slicked up enough, he grips your waist and pulls you all the way down. His big cock knocks the wind out of you. Always does. And your body is already so exhausted from the build up, you can’t help but slump against him, heavy head leaning on his broad shoulder. Your back sticks to his chest.

You roll your head so your tingling lips can find his neck. There you moan and whisper sweet nothings between kisses. One of your sweaty hands reaches up to tug at his ear and fist in his hair. You roll your hips on him one...two...three...four.

Charlie can’t take it anymore. “Fuck,” he grunts as he lifts you to give him space to really pound into you. And oh he does. Digging into your fleshy hips, he fucks hard into you, asks, “You like that sweet thing? Does that feel good?” “Aaarghh! Yes baby! Unngghhh! Please. Don’t. Stop!” You were already so close. And so was he.

Reading your thoughts again, he drops one hand to rub at your wanting clit. And you see stars. Moans, grunts, screams rip your throat raw. The hand still on your hip smooths its way up your soft belly and gropes at your tit, your stiff nipple. “Char-uh-lie! I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” He picks up the pace and pressure of the circles he’s drawing into your clit. And you tumble. Down down down a hole of pure pleasure. “Fuucckk!!” you shout as the tidal waves of your orgasm come crashing down on you. You can barely hear Charlie’s stangled words, “Yes yes sweet thing cum for me. Shit!” With the sensation of you squeezing clenching fluttering around him, he’s cumming. Cumming so deep inside you. Hot thick ropes.

“Hhhnngg,” his final moan rumbles through your bones as his hips stutter, slow, and eventually stop. Your bodies feel like jelly and mold into one another as you come down, trying to steady your breath.

Finally able to speak, Charlie nuzzles his nose behind your ear and places a tender kiss there. “I love you flower. And that dress fit you perfectly.”

[rialynne]

1917 Review

I’m feeling motivated to do another movie review again so here we go. In an attempt to stop myself from watching Little Women for a third time in theaters, I decided to go and watch another Oscar nominated film. Here is that review.

TLDR: It is rated R so fair warning but it is an extremely surreal and incredibly Human movie that includes probably the best editing and the best practical effects that I have seen in a long time. I highly recommend to see it in theaters.

Onward Spoilers:

With war films they often tend to go for ginormous and epic action sequences, the story lines tend to be quite similar in various forms in regards to violence, shock and horror. But never had I watched a war movie that was so intricately shot and so poignant to the human condition like 1917 has done. 

The technical achievements that this film displays are astounding. For all those who have somehow not gotten this tidbit from the movie, this film was shot and edited to appear to be that of a one take film. Therefore, the story of the film does feel as though it is happening in real time and that we are the third person in a two man mission. The film was edited in such a way that it can be hard to tell at first glance where the film was connected together. When Schofield and Blake are making their way through No Man’s Land, the way the camera follows them so smoothly even when they go into the holes at their level and how it makes sure to get the details of how dirty their uniforms have become, is absolutely stunning. The light flares that go off when Schofield is making his way through the bombed out French town, the floating bodies in the river that Schofield has to climb over to get himself out of the water, and the battle when the first wave of soldiers start to surge and Schofield takes off and runs along the outside of the trench. Absolutely beautiful shots and sequences that made it feel extremely real.     

They also created and mapped out the set locations and rehearsed the sequences months in advance. The set design is absolutely incredible the way the trenches were made between the British and the German ones highlighting subtle differences in terms of war strategies. The British trenches were more haphazard and built with an offensive mind set while the German Trenches were more well formed and organized and had even sleeping quarters to indicate a more defensive strategy. It’s also insane to me that we technically only saw a handful of German soldiers this entire film, but yet the tension and suspense was there the entire time. 

I think what pulls this movie off for me and something that I think not enough people are talking about is how the story is so simple yet tells so much about the Human condition in times of war. Everything in this story doesE’t stop, it just keeps on going forward. Blake and Schofield have a mission that while is life or death, is a minor mission in the grand scheme of things in war. They are both lower ranking soldiers that were sent out to deliver a message to call off an attack. Blake’s brother is a part of the forces ordered to call off the attack and he has a desire to want to save his older brother. Schofield is chosen to go along as well and ultimately is the only one to make it towards the end. In the short amount of time while we don’t go supper in depth with the characters we go deep enough to get a basic gist of their desires and wished and how they both essentially want the war to be over, Schofield especially with him even trading a medal for wine, indicating his disdain for war. In the midst of traversing through No Mans Land, we see Schofield injure his hand on barbed wire, and plunging that same hand in a decaying corpse that had a rat in it a few seconds prior, and getting covered in rubble when a rat activated a tripwire (That shit made me jump out of my seat). 

Blake’s death was so sad as he was just a few moments prior cracking jokes and talking about how in his childhood he used to help pick cherry trees with his brother, and then a German plane crashes and the guy they saved proceeds to stab him. Being a kind decent human being doesn’t save your life in war. You have to fight to be the last man standing. Which is exactly what Schofield does. He doesn’t even have time to grieve his dead friend, he has to complete the mission. He just wants to burst into tears on the caravan ride he gets, but doesn’t. It’s not until he escapes from the destroyed french town and gets out of the river does he get to break down briefly, until he finds the English soldier singing to the army group he was looking for. And then when he decides to run OUTSIDE of the trench as a short cut wow, so epic, and all for General Mackenzie to eventually accept the orders, lament about how ultimately the orders will change quickly again, and tells Schofield to fuck off. This really drives home that ultimately Schofield risked his life for a simple delivery of a message, that in the grand scheme of things may prove to be insignificant the next day. 

You really also see the parallels in this film more starkly towards the end. The story starts with a tree, and ends with a tree, but with only Schofield alive and still thinking of his wife and daughters. The french lady and the young baby she found also remind him of his own family that he left behind and tries to do some good and leave milk for the baby. Also the motif of the cherry blossoms from the farm house to the river where Schofield gets a second chance at life to survive, like damn. What really seals the deal for me is when Schofield finds Blake’s brother and when he gives him Blake’s belongings, you see his brother parallel the same grief Schofield had that he ultimately represses down, with a simple handshake being the most intimate one might have become in times of war. The simple message of that we really don’t have the time to grieve in though situations, we just have to keep on moving really hit me and humanized a lot of the people involved in the great war. 

With some of the most technological, practical achievements brought to the screen, 1917 is a war film that I highly recommend that you all experience in theaters. You may see it initially for the one shot take and other technological achievements it performs, but you will leave with a deeper understanding of war and how it affects everyday people who want nothing more than to be with their loved ones again.               

[authenticcadence18]

“The Start of Something New” Love Square Fluff Week Day 4: “Your Voice”/Day 6: “AU”

It’s AU Day for Fluff Week....WHICH MEANS IT’S TIME FOR A HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL AU, WOOO!!!

(this fic also counts as my contribution for Day 4, since it is all about singing...lol. Hope you enjoy!! And thanks to @lovesquarefluffweek for organizing this amazing event!!) 

AO3

-

“Any last minute sign ups?”

Ms. Bustier glanced around the auditorium over horn-rimmed glasses.

Marinette and Adrien both flinched from their position huddled at the door of the auditorium.

“....we should go…” Marinette whispered tersely, looking back at the boy behind her. His gaze remained fixed on the stage.

What had she been thinking, wanting to participate in Francois Dupont High’s winter musical as anything other than a costume designer?? Any lingering desires to do so had been squashed by Chloe Bourgeois’ RIVETING performance of the musical’s climactic emotional duet….by herself. Marinette definitely didn’t want to be witness to that every day for the next few months.

Even if it meant saying goodbye to Adrien as he drifted away to join the fencing team...right?

“No? Good? Done.”

Ms. Bustier flicked off her lamp and set about gathering her things.

As the light dimmed, Adrien’s desire to grace the stage and participate in theater swelled. Against his better judgement, he burst from the door frame and blurted out, “I’d like to audition, Ms. Bustier!!!”

Ms. Bustier whirled around and eyed Adrien incredulously before launching into a spiel about the importance of punctuality and being intentional in the theatre. Adrien’s face went red, and he cowered before her, the sharpness of her tone reminding him a little too much of his father.

Meanwhile, Marinette’s eyes practically bulged out of her head, her arms gesturing about wildly to convey thoughts she couldn’t articulate. What was Adrien THINKING??? Did he seriously want to audition for the musical NOW, after they’d spent the last half hour gathering their nerves to do so but chickening out at the last second??? She groaned, burying her head in her hands and hiding behind the door frame in an attempt to escape the awkwardness of it all...even though a tiny part of her wanted to join her new friend.

“The individual auditions are long long over, and there are simply no other pairs!!” Ms. Bustier finished.

Marinette peeked out at Adrien, who’d deflated at Ms. Bustier’s last words. Seeing such a sad expression on his face did something funny to her heart.

And suddenly, her heart was taking over for her brain.

“I’ll sing with him!!!” she called out before clasping her hands in front of her mouth.

HAD SHE REALLY JUST SAID THAT??!?!? Warning sirens went off in Marinette’s head, a precursor to the panic and shame that most certainly awaited her in Ms. Bustier’s response.

...but the way Adrien caught her eye and smiled at her as she timidly emerged from behind the door frame made it worth it.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng!!” Ms. Bustier articulated, eyebrow raised. “I thought you were just a costume designer. Did you bring something for me to look at?”

“No, like I said before, I’m here to….” Marinette hesitated before glancing at Adrien.

“...I’m here to sing with him.”

Ms. Bustier pursed her lips and shook her head. “Yes, well, as sweet as that is, we take shows VERY seriously here at Francois Dupont High. I called for the pairs’ audition, and you didn’t respond.”

“But--” Marinette protested as Ms. Bustier walked towards the door. “He has an amazing voice!!!”

“Perhaps the NEXT musicale,” Ms. Bustier snipped back before leaving the room.

Marinette chanced a glance at Adrien, almost afraid to witness the devastation he must be feeling.

But, to her surprise, he didn’t appear sad at all….in fact, he was looking at her, an awestruck twinkle in his eyes.

“...you think I have an amazing voice?” he whispered shyly.

Marinette flushed, memories of a certain New Year’s Eve party tumbling back into the forefront of her mind.

“Of course I do…” she replied softly. “It’s just a shame that no one else will ever get to hear it….”

Adrien smiled at her, and gently took her hand in his. “Well, for what it’s worth, knowing you like it is all the recognition I need. And...you have an amazing voice too.”

Marinette’s heart thundered in her chest. “...thanks…” she breathed.

A cough and pointed exclamation of, “Are we interrupting something?” snapped Adrien and Marinette out of their reverie. They both jumped and turned in the direction of the stage. One of the show’s writers--a girl with firey red hair and glasses--waved at them with a cheeky grin before gesturing for them to join her onstage. The show’s other writer--a boy wearing glasses and a red baseball cap--awkwardly waved as well.

Adrien and Marinette exchanged a glance before shrugging and walking towards the stage.

“I’m Alya, and this is my boyfriend Nino!!” the girl exclaimed cheerfully. “We wanted to introduce ourselves. It’s too bad Ms. Bustier didn’t let you guys audition...we were hoping more pairs would show up.”

“Oh well, It’s nice to meet you anyway!” Adrien replied. “You guys co-wrote the musical, right?”

“Yup!!!” Nino replied proudly, reaching out to shake Adrien’s hand. “Alya came up with the story, and I composed the music!!!”

“It was going to be so amazing….until CHLOE came along and ruined everything…” Alya grumbled, crossing her arms with a pout. “Our musical is SUPPOSED to be the dramatic story of two heroes whose love for each-other is the only obstacle separating them...but if Chloe has it her way, it’ll end up being about a stuck up superhero showing off for two hours.”

Marinette cocked an eyebrow, not quite understanding Alya’s description of the plot. “Can you tell us more about your story?”

“Of course!!!!” Alya replied, clearly eager to divulge the details of her script. “Our two main characters are Bridgette and Felix. In their everyday lives, they’re classmates. Bridgette loves Felix more than anything, but he never sees her as anything more than a friend because he’s already in love with his superhero partner...who just happens to be Bridgette!!!”

“Wait wait wait,” Adrien replied, brows furrowed. “I’m confused. So….Bridgette and Felix are also superheroes?”

“Yes, they’re secretly the dynamic duo of Ladybug and Chat Noir! One is gifted with the power of creation, the other destruction. Every night, they take to the streets of Paris to protect the world from villainy!! Chat Noir is helplessly in love with Ladybug, but she always refuses him because she’s already in love with another boy...but the other boy IS Chat Noir, she just doesn’t know it!!”

Both Marinette and Adrien blinked.

“So they love each other….but they also don’t? That’s….a bit convoluted….” Marinette pointed out.

“Oh, it totally is,” Nino agreed with a chuckle. “But that’s the beauty of it!!”

“The pining, the longing, the dramatic irony! It’s BRILLIANT!!!” Alya insisted, swooning over her boyfriend’s shoulder.

Marinette and Adrien shared a grin at her dramatics.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir were written to be equals and SOULMATES, but CHLOE doesn’t like that idea at all….she wants the show to be all about Ladybug and get rid of Chat Noir entirely…..and since no one else showed up to audition for the leads, she’s probably going to get her wish...

“Which is a shame, because the duet Nino wrote for them is stunning. It’s all about the conflicted love Bridgette and Felix feel for one another, both in and out of the masks.”

“I’d love to hear it…” Marinette said wistfully, already swept away in the possibilities of the love story that could emerge from such an interesting concept.

“Do you have sheet music?” Adrien asked, gesturing to the instrument on the right side of the stage. “I play piano.”

“WE DO!!!!” Alya replied animatedly, grabbing a folder and flipping through it before extracting a few pages of sheet music and practically throwing them at Adrien.

Adrien smiled and crossed the stage, sitting down and the piano and squinting at the song’s key signature. He played a few scales to warm up the key.

He looked over his shoulder at Marinette. “Shall we?” he asked with an invitational grin and a wink.

Marinette gulped.

Singing a generic karaoke song at a New Year’s Eve party with Adrien was one thing.

But singing an emotional duet? Told from the perspective of two characters who were supposedly soulmates? With Adrien?? Could she do that???

...her brain said no, but her heart screamed yes.

“...let’s do it.”

The first notes of a lilting melody echoed across the stage. Adrien’s fingers floated across the keys, a hint of the main tune emerging in the intro before being echoed in his voice….

“I see her standing at my side….she smiles at me once, then looks away….I think I understand her strange game.”

Marinette took a deep breath before repeating the melody back.

“I see him and then, I’m not myself…my face turns red, my voice goes soft…I can’t breathe but my heart’s beating fast…"

...and suddenly her heart WAS beating fast.

“Run away!!” Adrien sang out, a rawness escaping from his throat as the notes climbed higher. “That’s what I have to do! My heart’s upside down, and yet something pulls me away and beyond this wall between us!”

“But why?” Marinette sang back, gradually losing herself in the story. “Why can’t I talk to him now? …I wish he were mine, ‘cause his light and his smile bring me over this wall that exists between us……”

The song continued, Marinette and Adrien’s voices intertwining as the lyrics became more passionate.

From her position across the stage, Alya pressed “record” on her phone, grinning like crazy.

...

“I’ll wait for you for all my life…because it’s true, I love you madly... Our love will blossom infinitely…..”

Marinette and Adrien’s voices faded away. As the final chord of the song rang out, their eyes left the sheet music and met each other, blue meeting green amidst the notes as they faded away.

For a moment...they forgot about Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Or, for just a moment…maybe they were Ladybug and Chat Noir.

“....I think we’ve found what we’ve been looking for…” Alya excitedly whispered to Nino.

“DUPAIN-CHENG. AGRESTE.”

Ms. Bustier’s voice rang out.

“You have a callback!”

...

Thanks so much for reading!!! If you guys like this AU, maybe I’ll write more for it someday! (I have a few more ideas for it, lol!)

[jeanvaljean24601]

9 Straight-to-Streaming Blockbusters to Watch While You Wait for Tenet's Release

Once upon a time, movie fans had a lot to look forward to in the way of summer 2020 theatrical releases. The twenty-fifth James Bond flick No Time to Die was set to kick things off in April, and in May, Scarlett Johnasson's overdue MCU standalone film Black Widow and the next Fast and Furious flick F9 were scheduled to drop. Then, Patty Jenkins' Wonder Woman 1984 was scheduled to hit theaters in June, and the long-awaited Top Gun: Maverick was expected the same month. And of course Christopher Nolan's Tenet, seemingly the last hope for some semblance of a blockbuster this year, continues to get pushed back indefinitely. That's just a small sample of the major movies which were delayed as a result of the coronavirus pandemic.

The silver lining of social distancing was that there was already a bounty of streaming and video-on-demand options on the way — and  many which pivoted to streaming debuts amid the shutdowns — to provide us all more than enough great movie options to keep audiences entertained in our own  at-home theaters.

Stay home and stay safe with these cineplex-quality films that are streaming on popular streaming services right now.

Spike Lee's latest joint, Da 5 Bloods, hit Netflix smack dab in the middle of nationwide protests over the murder of George Floyd, and, as with most of his filmography, the movie offers a timely, scathing rebuke of the history of America's treatment of Black people — this time, through the lens of the "bloods," Black soldiers who fought on the front lines in Vietnam. The story's action is carried forward by the decades-later reunion of one platoon, as they journey back to recover their lost leader's remains and the pile of gold they found and stowed away on the battlefield. But the takeaway from the pic — apart from the fact that Delroy Lindo delivers a tour-de-force performance — is that it sheds light on another oft-unrecognized sacrifice and segment of our nation's history.x96 tv box

If not a Netflix Original by design, Sam Hargrave's Extraction, a  Chris Hemsworth-led action pic, would've easily made the marquee of the local cineplex in a normal year. Not since  The Haunting of Hill House have we seen such an impressive extended single-take shot, and Hemsworth's turn as a disillusioned mercenary who reluctantly accepts an assignment to rescue the kidnapped son of an imprisoned drug lord from a vicious rival is extremely watchable if you're looking to dig into a tub of popcorn and have a good time. Chances are, you'll be left wanting much more after the credits roll, and the good news is that Extraction 2 is already in the works.

Don't let the tight runtime fool you; Greyhound is still very much a war epic at just 1 hour and 31 minutes. The film — which Tom Hanks adapted from C.S. Forester's The Good Shepherd and which was directed by Aaron Schneider — features Hanks as the fictional commanding officer of a U.S. Navy vessel who must lead a convoy of Allied ships through the perilous Black Pit, a stretch of sea inaccessible to air support during the Battle of the Atlantic. For that three-day period, Hanks' Commander Ernest Krause is relentlessly tested and taunted by a "wolfpack" of U-boats, and it's on him to shepherd the ships across the Atlantic. There's little fluff to be found in this film, but the action is, to borrow an oft-used phrase in the film, "steady as you go."

For anyone who wasn't lucky enough to see the celebrated Broadway musical Hamilton live, especially when show creator  Lin-Manuel Miranda still led the original cast, director Thomas Kail captured a stunning 2016 performance of the show, with plans for the film to release wide in 2021. Once the coronavirus pandemic put all of Hollywood on hold, though, the pic — a musical biography of Alexander Hamilton told with a soundtrack of hip-hop, R&B, and soul — was redirected to a pre-Fourth of July release on Disney+ and gave audiences at home plenty of reasons to sing this Independence Day.

An anticipated romance movie smuggled inside of an action comedy, The Lovebirds was supposed to premiere at SXSW in March 2020 before everything shut down. That allowed Netflix to gobble it up, so nearly all the world could still see Kumail Nanjiani and Issa Rae play a couple on the rocks who learn to love each other again after accidentally becoming involved in a murder the same day they were going to break up. It's full of the kind of raucous humor that sees Nanjiani kicked in the face by a horse, all the while bringing Rae's and Nanjiani's characters closer together for a happy ending.

Gina Prince-Bythewood's action thriller The Old Guard is more than just your ordinary shoot-'em-up-bang-bang-style popcorn flick. The pic stars  Charlize Theron as Andy, the ancient leader of a race of semi-immortals who secretly work to save the world, one fight at a time, and take on a reluctant new member in KiKi Layne's Nile. Although The Old Guard does offer plenty of high-octane sequences, the characters also deliver some thoughtful commentary about the heroes' burden of watching the world continue to self-destruct no matter how many bad guys they vanquish, along with some sublime LGBTQ representation.

The less you know about Palm Springs going into it, the better, but it's probably no secret at this point that this delightful comedy features Andy Samberg and  Cristin Milioti as a pair of wedding goers who find themselves trapped in a time loop. Their performances are at once goofy and grounded, and there are plenty of surprises packed into every precious minute of this wild, incredibly fun rom-com with touches of sci-fi. x96 max plus

Mark Wahlberg and Peter Berg have teamed up for a lot of action dramas over the years (see also: Lone Survivor, Patriots Day, Deepwater Horizon, and Mile 22), but  Spenser Confidential marks their first film which even flirts with comedy — and it's all the better for it. The premise of the movie is simple enough; Wahlberg stars as an ex-cop who did his time for beating up his crooked boss and returns to find that his department is enmeshed a very sordid scandal that only he, his mentor Henry (Alan Arkin), his gentle giant roommate Hawk (Winston Duke), and his on-and-off-again girlfriend Cissy (Iliza Schlesinger) can untangle. But what might otherwise be a rote cop drama is immediately elevated by the movie's commitment to being a very Boston drama with a lot of sharp humor sprinkled in at just the right moments.

OK, maybe this one wouldn't have been a major blockbuster, but it's already destined to be an indie sci-fi classic talked about by elite cinephiles for years to come. The winner of Sundance's 2019 Best Narrative Feature Audience Award is set in 1950s New Mexico and follows a young woman and a man who investigate mysterious audio that appears to be coming from space, but skips special effects for mounting mood and incredible filmmaking. Andrew Patterson's directorial debut is a stunner, showing off his unique eye with what are sure to be his trademark one-take shots involving hundreds of extras, multiple locations, and a camera that never wants to turn off. There's a mesmerizing scene involving the young woman operating a switchboard that's already become one of my favorite scenes in film history, and I can't wait to see what Patterson comes at us with next.

[thehangeddemon]

All in a Weekend’s Work || Maximus & Xavier

Xavier: Four days gone from the incident with Aello, and Xavier Atlas had done little more than brood.

Telephones had been installed, record players ordered, television sets placed. Books and music en route. The house was becoming more beautiful and whole by the day and still, he barely emerged from the library.

This had gone on for most of the week, slowly lessening as it got closer to Saturday.

On Saturday, the day he and Maximus were set to go to the pictures, he woke positively chipper, making lively conversation during mealtimes and actively wandering the house. By dinner time one could even accuse him of being giddy.

Maximus: His behavior was nothing short of bizarre come Saturday. Over the past four days he'd grown accustomed to the quiet of the house. It was as though his master had been switched with another. How fitting, considering their chosen film.

Xavier Atlas was mostly speaking into an echo chamber. Though he had recovered from Tuesday's incident, his servant had yet to shake his embarrassment.

"I should keep a film in your schedule, m'lord, if it pleases you so."

Xavier: "Yes! Marvelous notion, Maximus." The grin was simply stuck to his face. There was no removing it or dampening his excitement. "We can make it a weekly event or perhaps a biweekly one."

Maximus: What was that expression. Unnerving is what it was.

"Very good, m'lord." His face didn't match his obedience.

Xavier: "Are you looking forward to tonight?"

Maximus: The correct answer was, "Yes, m'lord."

Xavier: "When was the last time you went to the pictures?"

Maximus: This required some thought. "During the war."

Xavier: "Too long. Which film was it?"

Maximus: "From Here to Eternity."

Xavier: Ah, during Korea then. "An excellent choice. Did you enjoy it?"

Maximus: "It was realistically depressing." There, a smile for his master.

Xavier: A smile that was treasured, appreciated, and returned. "Apt analysis. Deborah Kerr did fantastic work."

Maximus: "She only wanted an idea. She could never be with someone beneath her."

Xavier: "She reminded me of the woman who...kept me for several years."

Maximus: "Kept you, m'lord?"

Xavier: "She rented a flat for me in exchange for acts of a personal nature."

Maximus: "As a human?"

Xavier: Xavier nodded. "Indeed. I believe it amused her to have a docker for a lover."

Maximus: "I see." Why did that make him feel...defensive?

Xavier: "In any case, she made it obvious I would never be at her level. And here we are now. I in a manor, and she no doubt stewing in bitterness."

Maximus: "She's still alive? Have you seen her?"

Xavier: Another nod. "Spite can sustain a person for a long time, Maximus. I saw her in passing about a year ago when I went to London. Her husband looked....utterly exhausted."

Maximus: "Why did you stay if you spite her? She didn't employ you. You weren't in chains." A bold question from his servant no doubt.

Xavier: "The spite came about precisely because I didn't stay. I was young and proud and very offended when I discovered she was also keeping someone else. She didn't take my leaving well, even less so when the other man also left."

Maximus: "So you both spite each other. I suppose you're even."

Xavier: “I did for a time but why bother anymore? It’s been decades. I’m having a lovely immortal life. Her miserable husband can have her miserable company with my compliments.”

Maximus: Maximus simply nodded and watched the ground for a moment. "Are we driving into town, m'lord?"

Xavier: “We are indeed. Unless you’d rather we transport ourselves.”

Maximus: "It's been days since you've left the house. Today I shall drive."

Xavier: "Very well," Xavier said with a nod. "Is there anything you'd like to get while we're in town?"

Maximus: "I've already seen to groceries."

Xavier: "Anything else that's pressing?"

Maximus: "No, m'lord."

Xavier: He smiled. "In that case, we'll just have a lovely evening at the pictures. As always, dinner was lovely. The shrimp especially."

Maximus: Demon or not, for wanting shrimp all week, he was concerned for his master's health.

"I'll bring the car around."

Xavier: As Maximus was learning, when Xavier was in a mood for something specific, nothing else would do.

That also applied to excitement about things he'd been looking forward to, like this outing.

"Very good." Did he sound as giddy as he felt? "I'll get my coat and hat."

Maximus: He just wanted to say, 'Are you alright, m'lord?' but refrained. After what had happened Tuesday, he couldn't bring himself to step out of the line which he had created. He was just sociable enough to appease, but not so far as to feel vulnerable. He knew he would not be punished for allowing his master to dress himself, but couldn't bring himself to not present his coat.

Xavier: That was fine by him. He wouldn’t have minded dressing himself but he minded Maximus helping him even less. He’d grown quite accustomed to it over the past couple of months.

“Shall we?”

Maximus: "I won't be but a moment." Maximus slipped into his own black coat as he headed around towards the garage. He would much rather this than the reverse of days ago.

Xavier: While Maximus made his way to the garage, Xavier made his way out to the front step.

It really seemed like the sour mood of the past few days had finally dissipated. On the surface it would appear to be because of the film but really, most of the appeal lay in getting to spend a few uninterrupted hours enjoying Maximus' company.

Maximus: Had his servant known his train of thought, he might have coaxed one of his rare blushes.

The movie theater was packed. A queue lined around the block. They had come early, but not early enough to avoid the mess.

"I didn't expect so many faces," he said under his breath.

Xavier: The crowd didn’t surprise him. It was Saturday night, after all.

“Fortunately for us, you had the foresight to purchase tickets in advance. I’ll wager a good amount of these people won’t be able to get in.”

Maximus: The line began to part. A large man with a grim face shouted for people to separate between purchased and unpurchased. His servant dared smile at his master.

"Right you are, m'lord."

Xavier: Xavier returned the smile and led them to the correct line.

“Now we get to watch the humans forget how to form a queue,” he whispered to Maximus. “They always seem to forget at the most inconvenient times.”

Maximus: "Well, we'll be ahead of them in just a moment," he whispered back.

Xavier: Despite the lines, chaos still reigned. Xavier watched it all with great amusement until they were inside the theater.

“Would you like a refreshment? Popcorn or candy?”

Maximus: "I doubt they sell nicely wrapped praline."

Xavier: “Probably not. There is peanut brittle, however.”

Maximus: "Do you know the difference between the two, m'lord?" There was cheek in that tone.

Xavier: "As a matter of fact, I do." Xavier grinned at his butler. "Peanut brittle has hard caramel and praline typically has soft caramel made with butter and cream." A man couldn't spend as much time in patisseries as he did without picking up a few things.

Maximus: A small smile followed the little lesson. "Very good, m'lord."

Xavier: The modest praise brought a very self-satisfied look to Xavier's face.  "Why thank you. So what's the verdict? Do you dare sample the brittle?"

Maximus: "Why not? What do I have to lose, m'lord. What shall I get you?"

Xavier: "What indeed. You might find you rather like it." Xavier considered for a moment. "Just popcorn, I think."

Maximus: "Caramel or butter?" he asked over his shoulder.

Xavier: "Butter, please."

Maximus: As with the tickets, the refreshments were paid for with his allowance. Their best available seats were right of the crowd of boisterous teenagers, further in the back for privacy.

"Is this alright?"

Xavier: "It's perfect." Xavier got comfortable, relieved to be away from the crowd. "Shall I place a spell around us so we can converse?"

Maximus: That caught Maximus' attention. "I - If you'd like."

Xavier: Even if they didn't talk during the film, he still would. An added layer of privacy was always to be desired.

Only Maximus would notice the way the air around them seemed to shimmer with energy and appeared to blur for a moment. The humans around them would remain completely oblivious.

Maximus: "What do we look like on the other side?" he whispered, eyes on the screen at the beautiful woman.

Xavier: "Vaguely fuzzy," Xavier murmured back. "Like a television with bad reception."

Maximus: "Won't they be suspicious?" He already felt dread for the child. This felt like a circle of Hell he might have passed through.

Xavier: "They won't notice a thing. Normal humans aren't like the ones in films. Only humans in films can perceive the depth of the world around them. Like the boy there."

Maximus: "Children are susceptible. Some humans have the gift. It's beautiful, and pitiful."

Xavier: "Some, but not all. And that's for their protection I suppose." He hummed thoughtfully. "Stunning woman."

Maximus: Even I can see that. "Yes, she is." He took a breath.

Xavier: The doctor wasn't too bad either. But dare he say that aloud...

"The doctor holds himself well."

Maximus: Would he notice that subtle straightening of his spine? "Mm."

Xavier: He would, and it made him smile around a mouthful of popcorn.

"Humans in films are also all apparently immune to delirium."

Maximus: "Not all. The grandmother was oblivious."

Xavier: "Denial is one of their few lines of defense."

Maximus: "I don't know if it's defense."

Xavier: "The English would be appalled at such familiar behavior," he chuckled.

Maximus: "You're already prepared for this. I've given you plenty of practice."

Xavier: Xavier smiled. "I prefer the American way when it relates to these matters. So much more direct. Like the way Miles rushes to Becky's aid on a mere premonition."

Maximus: "I can't say one way or another, m'lord."

Xavier: "Oh dear. Poor Becky has been copied."

Maximus: "He has a chance to save her."

Xavier: "And is doing so gallantly."

Maximus: Is she sitting in the other woman's lap? He continued to watch quietly.

Xavier: "The true human condition. Rationalizing everything."

Maximus: "We once lived in that world."

Xavier: "Feels like a thousand years ago."

Maximus: "Did you ever know, m'lord? Before..."

Xavier: "About the true depth of the world, you mean? Demons and vampires and werebeasts? I don't believe so. I was always called a hellspawn but I didn't think they existed in a literal sense."

Maximus: He had known just enough, but he didn't think it appropriate to speak.

Xavier: Xavier made a face. "How repellant."

Maximus: "I would not be surprised if there is some truth to this."

Xavier: "I wouldn't either. Perhaps some sort of spell rather than extraterrestrial origins."

Maximus: "Or combination of."

Xavier: "Very possible."

Maximus: The bodies should be burned, he frowned. The hesitation only made for the story. Ah, there it was.

Xavier: Xavier shared the sentiment. "In the immortal words of my father, one should always go for the head."

Maximus: "Hope is such a strain on the system."

Xavier: "Hope is how film heroes are made. And actual heroes, I suspect. Without it this world would be very dismal indeed."

Maximus: If you say so, he thought. Of course he would be quiet.

Xavier: "Well. Hope and bravado."

Maximus: Oh. The corner of his mouth twitched. But the more the doctor spoke, the more...something dampened his expression.

Xavier: Xavier noticed. "Are you all right, Maximus?"

Maximus: "Yes, m'lord."

Xavier: He didn't believe him, but said nothing. He simply smiled and nodded.

"There's that hope and bravado again."

Maximus: It wouldn't be such a terrible world, he thought. No love, but no reason to torment, either.

Xavier: "Such a clever doctor. Courage isn't always rewarded but intelligence should be."

Maximus: They're going to fail. This is all failure. The beginning has given away the ending.

He finally began to unwrap his peanut brittle.

Xavier: Xavier thoughtfully ate his popcorn. There was something to be admired in Becky and the doctor, in their noble heroic efforts to save humanity from an emotionless existence.

But of course what he commented on was, "The desert is such a charmless landscape."

Maximus: "I lived there...for a time."

Xavier: "In your human life?" Or in this one?

Maximus: "One year. Richard Claire." Have you heard of him? Another crossroads demon.

Xavier: The name didn't sound familiar, but then Xavier tended to steer clear of crossroads demons.

"We approach the line where bravado becomes foolishness."

Maximus: "It's already too late."

Xavier: "And suddenly we're back in our world, where those who see are madmen."

Maximus: Maximus sighed through his nose.

Xavier: "Alas, poor Miles."

Maximus: "He's going to sleep."

Xavier: "You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become a villain."

Maximus: The ending surprised the demon, genuinely represented in his expression.

Xavier: Xavier smiled. "Bravado was rewarded."

Maximus: Everyone began to stand and file out of the many rows. The peanut brittle was tucked away in his coat.

"Shall we wait, or shall I remove us?"

Xavier: "Please, allow me. I've done very little with my gifts this week."

In all the chatter and movement and excitement, it was easy to disappear from human eyes without drawing notice.

Maximus: An instinctive hand almost reached for Xavier as they appeared by the car, just managing to refrain.

"Did you enjoy yourself, m'lord?"

Xavier: "I did," Xavier said cheerfully. "Very much so. Did you?"

Maximus: "Yes, m'lord." He headed towards the passenger side door to open.

Xavier: "Care to make it a regular thing?" he asked as he entered the car.

Maximus: "You've said you want weekly picture." The door was shut behind him. He quickly settled into the driver's seat.

Xavier: "I'd also like you to accompany me, if you're agreeable."

Maximus: "Yes, m'lord." It would be foolish to deny him.

Xavier: Xavier had a feeling Maximus was only agreeing because he felt he had to, but the hope that that would lessen with time had returned. Possibly inspired by Miles and his unending hope.

"I shall open an account at the theatre." He didn't want to take from Maximus' paycheck for what would become a household expense.

Maximus: "I don't mind paying, m'lord." As it was entertainment for him, it only seemed fair.

Xavier: "I won't hear of it. I make accounts for all household expenses and I consider this as such."

Maximus: A silent sigh. "Very good, m'lord." He turned towards the highway leading towards home.

Xavier: Xavier settled in. His giddiness had evened out but he was still in excellent spirits.

"Do you have any plans for your day off tomorrow?"

Maximus: Oh. The question filled him with dread. "To...garden."

Xavier: He nodded. "Well, enjoy. Feel free to take the car into town if you need any supplies."

Maximus: "Thank you...m'lord." That wasn't all he had planned, but the things he enjoyed were done during his master's sleep.

Xavier: For his part, he planned to spend the day examining the attic, particularly the secret room Eisley set up. Setting up the household had pushed it to the back of his mind but it needed to be dealt with.

And if not dealt with, at least understood.

"As soon as the house is closed up for the night you may retire."

Maximus: "Yes, m'lord. Is there anything you wish for me to do when we return?" A quick glance was given to his master.

Xavier: Xavier shook his head. "Nothing more for tonight. I'm going to spend some time in the attic before I go to bed."

Maximus: "Will you need me? Or a duplicate?"

Xavier: "Only for a few minutes."

Maximus: "Yes, m'lord."

Xavier: "I'll call for you when I'm ready to retire."

He smiled as the manor came into view. It was already leaps and bounds ahead of where it had been two months ago and he couldn't be happier.

"This is a fine home we're building."

Maximus: The "we" was generous, in his opinion, and still, despite everything he couldn't bring himself to trust it. Already his master had done so much more than those before him, but he knew...he just knew the final chapter of this story. He felt it from between his legs, his lungs, his chest...

"That it is, m'lord."

Xavier: "You should be enormously proud of the work you've done." Xavier certainly was, but like with so many things he kept it to himself. It wouldn't do to make such declarations after the week they'd had.

"Oh, I forgot to mention. I think a raccoon is trying to ransack our trash bins."

Maximus: "It'll be gone by morning." He wondered, quietly of course, if his master was relieved to have him back to normal.

Xavier: "Excellent, thank you." Xavier was glad that Maximus was no longer any spell, of course, but his butler wasn't quite back to normal yet. At least not the normal Xavier had become accustomed to, the one before Aello's spell.

"Very well then," he said once the car stopped. "I'll be in the library. I'll call you when I'm ready."

Maximus: Maximus would appear on the other side of the car to open his door. The car would then be brought around, and he would linger.

Only little chores this late in the evening. Busywork. He felt a sense of idle hands despite the books, his violin, the bone and ivory hidden in his briefcase, the unfinished garden, the clothes which needed sewing and the shoes in need of polishing. He was needlessly restless, and he had been since Aello's magic.

Xavier: Xavier nodded his thanks to Maximus and went up to the library. He really did intend to learn more about the secret room Eisley had in the attic, despite having brooded in here for most of the week.

He'd gone through all the books, but there were still a number of ledgers and documents that needed to be examined. He would dedicate an hour or two to the task tonight and in the process, glean a better understanding for how this manor had been run before he'd seized it.

Maximus: A lethargic lap had been made around the entire home and the surrounding shed and garden before heading inside. His mind was nowhere, which was not so unusual for late in the evening, but he was aware enough to understand he was behaving atypically.

He wandered as he had the evening of his ordeal. His feet led him back to the library.

Xavier: Maximus would find Xavier poring over a ledger with a furrowed brow.

The more he looked into this, the less sense it made. Nothing he'd found so far explained Eisley's paranoia or knowledge of demon traps.

Maximus: "Is there," he cleared his throat. "Is there anything I might be able to help with, m'lord?"

Xavier: "I'm not sure," he sighed, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. "Other than the demon trap, what's the strangest thing you've seen in this house?"

Maximus: Aside from myself? "The snakes."

Xavier: "Of course, the snakes." He fell into thoughtful silence for a few moments before getting to his feet. "Show me where you saw them."

Maximus: A quick nod. He led them back towards the attic, to the tiny door. The room was much cleaner now. The weeping statues placed in their forever home.

"Here." He pointed to the child-sized door and the wall between the door and the tiny window. "Along here and against the door." As though they were guarding it.

Xavier: "Snakes surrounding a small door beyond which lies a prison cell for a demon," Xavier mused, considering the area. Definitely not something found in the home of a recluse.

"How much dust was in the small room?"

Maximus: "A fair bit." He looked around, as though he might find something new. "There is a spell, m'lord, that we might try. It was one...I learned from another master."

Xavier: A fair bit. Attics were more prone to dust than other parts of a house but even so, he would estimate that the room had been prepared some time ago. Perhaps even before Xavier had started watching Eisley.

All the more reason to find out why.

"What does this spell do?"

12:39 AM] Maximus: "It...is a spell to rewind time. As a viewer. The price is...one I will make. We can see when the space was made, how many knew, what he was doing, all of it safely without interacting."

Xavier: The spell sounded very convenient and useful but he couldn't ignore the caveat.

"What is the price?"

Maximus: "It ages the body the spellcaster inhabits," he said coolly.

Xavier: “Absolutely not. We’ll do this the old fashioned way on Monday.”

Maximus: "M'lord?"

Xavier: “We will pry intensively into Damien Eisley’s life and if no answers present themselves, we shall consider some sort of artifact or other type of magic.”

Maximus: "I've cast the spell before, m'lord," he said quietly. "This is your home. You deserve answers. If you so desire, we can hire someone to cast for us."

Xavier: "And I shall get them. at no cost to either of us." He wouldn't have Maximus subjected to detrimental magic. There were many ways to get answers.

"I'll continue to dig on Monday and see what I can find. Incidentally, how difficult was it to get rid of the snakes?"

Maximus: He was beginning to wonder if Aello had left some of his magick behind. This was nothing. Xavier didn't want an old man tending to his whims.

"Not difficult at all. They didn't seem to mind."

Xavier: "If you had to wager a guess, would you say it was a spell that required...finesse? Experience?"

Maximus: His servant stared for a moment before catching himself. "I think they were just...allured by the ward."

Xavier: "Ah, I see. The snakes themselves weren't magical, they were ordinary snakes drawn here by whatever protected the door."

Maximus: "Yes, m'lord."

Xavier: Xavier nodded. That made more sense. "Interesting that it happened to be snakes that were lured here," he mused. "And very appropriate. It does make one wonder just what type of magic created the ward."

Maximus: "I can't imagine a frail hermit standing on a ladder making what we saw."

Xavier: "Determination can move mountains, but no. I can't either. Eisley had no magic, of that I'm certain. He had to have hired someone who did or at the very least consulted with someone who did."

Maximus: "M'lord, I can make that spell work. We don't know how far back we must go. It could be nothing."

Xavier: "I appreciate you offer and your willingness to pay the price the spell demands, but if we find we must use it, that price will be paid by someone else. Cannon fodder can always be found."

Maximus: "Yes, m'lord." He didn't realize he was staring at his master's hands again. He looked up to catch his gaze and sighed. "Never a dull moment."

Xavier: "Indeed. Let us hope tomorrow brings a few."

Xavier checked his watch. He should probably go to bed. It wasn't terribly terribly late but he didn't feel like poring over more ledgers or documents. He'd leave it for the morning.

"Come. Let us retire."

Maximus: The ritual he'd come to look forward to, quietly as everything else. The simplicity and silence was almost a meditation. Always first his coat, and then his master's cufflinks. He took special lingering care in the act. As though the bits of gold and silver were more precious than their physical price.

Xavier: It was something Xavier looked forward to as well. No matter how busy they were throughout the day or what had happened or what state their relationship was in that day, this ritual guaranteed a few moments of closeness. Formal perhaps, but it still brought them together.

Maximus: "Will that be everything?" he would always ask once reaching his belt. Some nights he expected the command...the one given by those before him. Some, as opposed to each night.

Xavier: "Yes, thank you, Maximus." And of course, the command wouldn't come. Xavier would put on his dressing gown and finish disrobing once Maximus had left.

Since Maximus didn't sleep, he said, "Enjoy your night."

Maximus: "Thank you, m'lord," was followed by a soft smile. And for his next routine, keeping as silent as a church mouse while Xavier settled. He would walk the grounds and make a list of everything which needed to be done during the daylight hours.

Xavier: There would be very little settling this night.

Rather than carry him into dream land, Xavier's thoughts kept drifting to the small room upstairs. A demonic prison cell in the home of a professor of Russian literature. It made no sense.

It would make sense if Eisley was aware that Xavier had been watching him but there was little evidence of that. All they had to go on was that room, the snakes, and whatever information was yet to be uncovered in the library.

Maximus: Maximus had finally retreated to his modest bedroom. A book was unearthed from his briefcase, where most of his possessions remained. He'd long ago given up making a room his own. Few masters had threatened to burn it should he not reveal its contents. Most didn't care enough to inquire. It was just easier, both mentally and physically when traveling between ownership.

He would not check his watch again until midnight. Only to be checked once more at 1 in the morning.

The book was placed on his pillow. Slowly, carefully, the violin case was removed from the depths of his briefcase.

Xavier: By the time midnight came and went Xavier had given up on sleeping. His eyes simply wouldn't stay closed every time he tried; his mind was far too busy.

So he got up and slipped into his dressing gown. Perhaps he would go to the library to look at the blueprints again. The house was large, there had to be somewhere they hadn't yet explored.

He'd find out either way.

Maximus: The house was eerily quiet, as it had been for hours. As it was almost every night. With one exception, which was made every night at this time. Xavier Atlas' servant crossing the span of the house towards the front door with his case clutched in a gloved hand.

Xavier: Maximus wasn't the only one crossing the span of the house.

Xavier reached the landing separating the two wings of the house just in time to catch sight of his butler emerging into the foyer.

He quickly--and silently--took half a step back, concealing himself behind the wall as he watched Maximus. He was carrying something. Was that...a violin case?

Why was Maximus taking a violin case outside?

Maximus: Not just outside. He was taking it well away from Xavier Atlas' ears. Teleportation ran the risk of his master's awareness, which went against the very point.

He had a walk ahead of him. The same walk he'd made almost every night for the past month.

Xavier: Well this was far more intriguing than the mess with the attic.

Xavier waited until the door had closed to sneak downstairs. Maximus was going out the front so he would go out the back and plot a course from there.

Unless his butler planned to take the car somewhere, there were only two places he could go; the garden or the woods. Either way Xavier would carefully and silently follow.

Maximus: His path led into the woods heading opposite of the town. He had taken many a night in those woods in search for the perfect private patch. The trees muffled much, but he'd been more cautious than to trust only nature. A mile into his hike, a small abandoned cottage on its last legs appeared from behind a mass of old sleeping trees. A tiny gravestone beside a tree with a broken swing. Gentle fingers greeted the top as he passed. The weathered heavy door opened with a groan and was shut behind him.

Xavier: Xavier couldn't help but notice that Maximus was walking with purpose. Direction. Whatever this was, it wasn't a one-off thing; his butler had done this before. Perhaps multiple times.

He followed quite a few yards behind, grateful for the cover of the trees and the magic that muffled his movements to near silence so long as he moved slowly.

He was beginning to wonder how long they were going to walk when the cottage came into view. He hadn't ventured into this part of the woods when he had hunted Eisley so the small, dilapidated building came as a complete surprise. How long had it taken Maximus to find it? And what exactly did he plan to do once he was inside?

Maximus: Minutes within with only a gentle clack of the violin case and a soft tuning. His master would catch a word of regard to the gravestone.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Emily."

The gentle melodious tune of Vivaldi, Concerto in A Minor RV 356 barely escaped the broken windows.

Xavier: Xavier had never been more grateful for his supernatural hearing than he was this night.

Without it he never would’ve properly heard what Maximus began to play, would’ve never known the talent and passion put into every last note, would’ve never known the poignant beauty of Maximus coming out here and playing to the moon and the trees and a grave.

Concealed, he closed his eyes and listened.

Maximus: After finishing his first piece, the violin and bow were placed on a nearby table. His coat removed and tie loosened. The first two buttons of his shirt were undone as well, allowing the cool night air to kiss his chest.

The instrument was brought back to position. What to play next? He thought of Xavier and their thieving night.

He began to play La Campanella, a smile on his face.

Xavier: Xavier used the brief interlude to make himself comfortable. He concealed himself behind an obliging group of shrubbery, casting a spell over himself to ensure complete obstruction.

The first few notes of the next piece had a smile curving his lips. A very difficult choice, one he’d seen many pianists get frustrated over but which Maximus played with ease.

Maximus: The night would continue with little pause from his servant. Pendulating between three Italian composures. Some Paganini, then Vivaldi, and a finish of Bazzini. It was Bazzini where he would softly curse under his breath. La Ronde des Lutins was played multiple times until satisfied. A sensation which he would not achieve until his hair had come loose from its perfect part, a growl of frustration, and a slow, deep exhale.

Xavier: And all of it would be enjoyed by Xavier. The perfect pieces and the sad pieces and particularly the piece that was giving Maximus so much trouble.

At one point he'd found himself unable to resist the temptation of getting a peek at what his butler's frustration looked like and he was not disappointed.

Maximus looked every bit the accomplished violinist, beautiful with his disheveled hair and open shirt and overcome with passion for the sake of his art. The toy soldier Xavier had come to know was nowhere to be found in this moment and he was utterly enchanted.

Maximus: He would see Maximus check his watch, glance out one of the nearer windows, gauging where the sun might be in the next two hours. He should get back; he'd indulged by being gone for so long. The frustrations of the attic, his silent lust, his lingering embarrassment. This was his only sure method of catharsis.

He faced the door. Just one more, he told himself. He started back on La Follia, only reaching a minute in before dropping his bow to his side. Eyes closed, head tilted back to the ceiling. There he stood, statuesque. The silence much louder than his violin.

Xavier: Xavier hadn’t given a single thought to the approaching dawn. As it was Maximus’ day off, his butler wouldn’t be dressing him and thus would not know that Xavier was not in his bed. There was no rush at all to get back to his bedroom.

Or so he thought, until Maximus went still and caused Xavier to do the same. He was completely hidden from view, had scarcely moved at all. Surely his presence hadn’t been detected.

Maximus: Freedom or not, he'd had no intention of being caught so far away from the house. He would usually be found in the gardens or tucked away in his room. It was how he liked to play his time off. Something safe and reasonable to a new owner.

But he just couldn't will himself to move. He lived in the presence of silence, the random chatter of wildlife and the whisper of breeze against dead and dying leaves.

He took another breath through his nose, taking in the scent of the house, its dust and wood and decay; the old abandoned clothes and forgotten dried herbs left hanging in the hallway.

"His name is," another breath, whispered, "Xavier."

Xavier: Not a single breath was taken as Xavier waited to see if he'd been discovered. After Maximus' playing the woods seemed eerily silent and still, riding the line between unsettling and peaceful.

Just when he thought that perhaps he should be getting back, his own name fell from Maximus lips, soft as anything.

His name. Xavier's name. Spoken in his quiet, private moment by this beautiful violinist.

Maximus: "What am I supposed to do, Emily?" continued in whisper. The bow weighed far too much to be returned to the violin. He'd carried with him the weight of responsibility, of etiquette, of memories and lust on his shoulders. So tired he was to take a seat on a dust covered chair, violin and bow on the floor, head in his hands. He wanted so much to cry, but what frightened him more was how dry he felt inside.

Xavier: He's speaking to the grave, Xavier realized. Seeking comfort and counsel from a woman long ago passed to the afterlife.

About him.

Something about him, or perhaps about their relationship, was causing Maximus distress. Had Xavier done something wrong? Made a misstep he hadn't noticed or thought nothing of? Had he hurt Maximus?

He must have. His butler was sitting in a dilapidated shack trying not to cry.

Maximus: Her death was one he could relate to in some measure. Though she had not died as shamefully as he, it had been her choice. Having lived a life so fragile, every day a bleed, a cough, a fight for breath, arguing each day with Death had become a chore. Yet she had tolerated her wretched body for thirty-six years.

Her soul was long gone. There was no wraith to greet him. He'd learned everything he could about her from touch spells throughout the house. No one there, and yet he'd grown accustomed to talking to air. She was his friend.

"Please, take it out of me."

Xavier: Take what out of you, Maximus? What have I done to leave you in this state? Tell me so I might fix it.

Safe inside the protection of his spell, Xavier heaved a long sigh. A beautiful night was turning into a tumultuous morning.

He knew he should probably be getting back but he couldn't find the will. He didn't want to leave Maximus like this, despite the fact that his butler had no idea he was here.

He wanted to heal what was hurt, to offer comfort. But how could he, when he was the source of whatever needed to be soothed? How could he do anything at all if he didn't know what was wrong?

Maximus: Maximus abruptly got to his feet, gathering his bow and violin for the case. He'd wasted too much time for himself here. Regardless of his time off, he wanted to have breakfast ready under a cloche before his master's wake.

He began putting himself back together. Straightening, buttoning, smoothing himself into an image worthy of pride.

Xavier: And just like that, the toy soldier was back. Prim and proper, all present and correct.

For the first time since knowing Maximus, Xavier mourned that fact.

With another sigh, he started his journey back to the house. He'd come around the back just as before, taking advantage of his head start to quickly sneak back upstairs and into his bedroom before he could be discovered.

It was just as well he planned to spend the day ensconced in the library and the attic. It gave him ample opportunity to brood.

Maximus: Through the front door not long after his master. To the servant's quarters to do away with his case, his jacket, gloves, and a cursory glance in his mirror. After a quick wash, he retreated to the kitchen. An English breakfast for his English master.

Xavier: His English master had gotten started on his brooding by taking a bath.

He only wished he had a glass of wine with him to make the hot water that much more effective.

His mind was in both quiet, haunted chaos and near delirious joy. Last night had made him privy to such a beautiful part of Maximus, and yet he couldn't enjoy it. Xavier felt guilty for causing his butler such trouble and upset that he hadn't been able to finish playing, more so because he had no idea what he'd done.

And to top it all off, it being Maximus' day off meant there would be no lovely dressing ritual.

Maximus: What there would be, is a tray waiting for him in the library. Beans, tomatoes, two poached eggs, sausage, mushrooms, and toast. Half of the house was filled with various smells which would linger until noon. No wine. Only tea.

No sign of his servant, either.

Xavier: Xavier dressed himself and made his way to the library with a sour expression, one that fell away the moment he spotted the covered tray on the table.

Despite the night’s upset, Maximus had taken time from his day off to make him breakfast.

“Lucifer, give me strength,” he sighed as he sat to eat.

Maximus: He would not find his servant for the rest of the day. Not unless he looked outside. There he would find him in brown trousers and a shirt one size too large with rolled up sleeves and sleeve garters. His hair was less than perfect, but the various plants were not judgmental.

Xavier: Oh, he would look outside, but not from the library window. That would've been too obvious, and put him at risk for discovery.

No, Maximus would be watched from the kitchen window when Xavier went downstairs to do his breakfast dishes.

He was glad that Maximus felt relaxed enough not to be quite so polished while he gardened. He liked the tousled, windswept appearance of him, the concentration as he worked, all of it. Xavier liked all of Maximus very much.

Now he just had to figure out what the bloody hell to do about it.

Maximus: From behind, Xavier would hear the gentle approaching footsteps of another. The explanation was fastened to Maximus' wrist. His same hand with three irregular scrapes.  The one which, if carefully observed, carried with it a long thin scar, curved at the inward tip.

A respectable version of Maximus appeared in the doorway, watching the watcher.

Xavier: Xavier heard the approach of one of Maximus' shadows too late to hide the fact that he was staring out the window at the original Maximus, but rather than turn quickly to save face he stayed staring a few moments longer.

After all, his butler had complete access to his shadows' memories and Xavier found himself wondering how Maximus would react to the knowledge that he was watching him.

Perhaps it could serve as a guide for what followed.

When he finally turned he said, "I did intend for all of you to have the day off but since you're here, you can help me rifle through Eisley's personal documents in the library."

Maximus: The taciturn shadow's mouth twitched. Not quite hidden, not quite obvious. He bowed, gestured towards the hallway leading out of the kitchen. Maximus would have no knowledge of Xavier's observations until collecting his duplicates. For now, he was innocent.

Xavier: Xavier nodded and took them up to the library. The work table and desk were positively strewn with documents and ledgers and even a few journals. It was an unholy mess.

"All right then. We're looking for anything that might explain why Eisley had a demon cell. Letters from an enemy, paranoid ramblings, delusional ramblings, things of that nature. Anything magical. Oh, and if you feel a sinister energy coming off of something, don't open it. Hand it directly to me."

Maximus: Once in a while, seemingly from nowhere, his servant demonstrated a sense of humor. His shadows were no exception. The room was given an upside-down cross, a demonic blessing of good will, and a mirthful smile.

Xavier: He laughed. Regardless of the frequency or the reason, humor from Maximus was always a joy to see.

"May your blessing help us, my dear. You take the desk, I'll take the table."

Maximus: The creature, the shadow, the twin, whatever title given, he was not Maximus. He could not sense things as wholly as his true self. He did not blush and turn away to the pet name. Instead ignoring for his appointed task. A stack of books was placed to the side and felt, leafed through, and piled anew.

Xavier: Many of the documents dealt with the household finances and the construction of the house. There were several years of bills of sale, a preliminary set of plans, correspondence between Eisley and the architect who designed it and the foreman of the team who had built it.

There was the occasional letter from a friend or a colleague, the odd train ticket from trips all over the state. And surprisingly...

"More things from Russia," Xavier said thoughtfully, looking over a bill from a hotel in St. Petersburg. "He actually traveled there, more than once from the look of things. Have you found anything Russia related?"

Maximus: His second Maximus looked up for his master's attention. It could have been nothing at all, but that was not for him to decide. He crossed the room to the table and placed a ticket stub on top of Xavier's open book. It was Russian, and written in haste ink in the corner: Книга No 9.

Xavier: "Ah, thank you, darling." The lack of blush or protest was making him very liberal with the endearments, not that he noticed or did it on purpose. It felt extremely natural.

Xavier squinted at the note. "I just saw that somewhere...." He looked around for the bills of sale he'd just been rifling through and rifled through it again. "There was one here from a book shop that had that same thing written on the bottom...here it is! It and several other titles were purchased, although this one has no author listed and no price."

Maximus: He made the universal gesture to open. Should you? He held his hand out. I'll do it.

Xavier: Xavier understood perfectly. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. For all we know this volume, whatever it is, may not even be here. When we cleaned the library out I didn't come across any mysterious, author-less tomes. If it's in the house, it's not in here. We'll have to find it."

Maximus: The duplicate thought for a moment. His intelligence was the same as the man outside in the garden. Words were unfortunately, not his strong suit.

He pointed up. The attic, of course.

Xavier: He nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, seems like the logical place to begin. Come on, then.”

Interesting how this all came back to Eisley’s obsession with Russia, Xavier thought as he led them upstairs. It made him wonder how it all began. Something had to have sparked it, a person didn’t develop life-consuming obsessions out of nowhere.

Once the attic, he sighed and looked around for a few moments. “Do you....sense anything?”

Maximus: This little game of charades was going to humor the original before evening set. The mimic pointed to the floor. He pried an invisible something. Do you see? He pointed to the walls and hammered. If something was in this room, which was for the most part blank, then by his logic it was underneath, or behind.

Xavier: “No....surely he wouldn’t—well...” This was the same man who’d created a demonic prison cell in his attic; it wouldn’t be completely implausible for him to take a page out of the Tell-Tale Heart and hide something in the floorboards.

“....We’re going to need a crowbar.”

Maximus: A single finger, and then pointed to himself. He headed for the door.

Xavier: “Very well.”

While Maximus’ shadow fetched what they needed, Xavier began to slowly walk around the room, concentrating on anything that felt off or amiss. If he could pick up on something then maybe they could avoid tearing into the floor and the walls at random.

He really didn’t want to have to refinish the attic, no matter how much he wanted answers.

“Where the hell did you put it, you old hermit...”

Maximus: A few minutes passed before footsteps ascended towards the mysterious attic. Replaced by the well-groomed mute was the original. A smudge of dirt on his forehead. Sleeves still rolled with his garters, a crowbar and hammer in hand. Perhaps also of note would be the soft flush on his cheeks.

"M'lord..."

Xavier: Xavier blinked in surprise, not having expected to see actual Maximus until tomorrow.

Lucifer in Hell, he looked beautiful.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing.”

Maximus: "Never while you're working. I wish...you had told me." When you were watching me.

Xavier: “I didn’t want to disturb you. I almost told your shadow to go relax with you.”

Maximus: "It - That - " He just shook his head. "Where would you like to start?"

Xavier: Was Xavier staring? He felt like he was staring. He was so unused to seeing Maximus like this. He felt like he needed to look as much as he could in case he never got another opportunity.

“Right, yes. Well.” He cleared his throat. “I can’t seem to feel anything out of the ordinary, although that could be because the book itself isn’t extraordinary. Truthfully, I’m trying to avoid destroying the room.”

Maximus: He had to remain focused on their task at hand or else he'd lose his thoughts. It had been his choice to come up here, knowing what he'd seen, what his master had seen, what he had said. What he had hoped by doing so he couldn't say. It was impulse. He felt Aello's spell had never truly abandoned him.

"If we had a piece of the book, I could find it easily," he managed in a clear and present voice.

Xavier: “No chance of that, I’m afraid,” he sighed, willing himself to remember what they were doing up here. “All I have is the name. I’m not even sure it’s the real name. The bill of sale just said book number 9.”

Maximus: "Would he try to be clever about it? Nine steps...nine planks...nine somethings? Was he that type of man?"

Xavier: “I didn’t think he was, but apparently he’s full of surprises.” Xavier looked around again. “Should we try walking nine steps from the small door and looking under the floor there?” It might lead to nothing but they had to start somewhere and this was the most logical place to start.

Maximus: Another one of those smiles, something not quite there, but obviously something of note. Hidden as he stared at the floor and took to position. "Something between our steps. You have bigger feet." It seemed his days off were the prime opportunities for jokes.

Xavier: Only partially hidden. Xavier noted and saw it perfectly well, quietly thrilled to be the cause for it. Maximus' smiles were so rare; each one was something to be treasured.

"Very well," he chuckled. "You take nine steps and I'll take nine steps and we'll split the difference."

Maximus: So, nine steps brought them near the center of the room. Eyes up to the sigil.

"Could it really be that?" he mumbled to himself.

Xavier: ".....Perhaps," he said after a few moments' consideration. "This is the only place it would make sense to keep a mysterious Russian book other than the library. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to check."

Maximus: "This malnourished hermit thought a demon was going to appear out of a book?" It made the most sense. The room, the sigil, the lonely chair and table. This was someone's potential prison cell.

Xavier: "Stranger things have happened. It could be that that's why the snakes were drawn here, partly at least. It's a terrible cliche but thanks to our lord and savior they are drawn to us."

Maximus: "Hmm." Our Lord and savior, he said. He didn't feel that Lucifer really attached to either of them. He felt, even at the worst of times, only incidentally demonic.

"I'm not...terribly inclined to have our kin in the house."

Xavier: "I can't say I am either." Xavier thought for a moment. "Should we draw in the gap in the demon trap first? We can always pry up the floorboards telepathically."

Maximus: "Is that a specialty of yours, m'lord?"

Xavier: “Telepathy? Somewhat. I’ve had lots of practice over the years.”

Maximus: "And...everyone's demanded more hands of me, so..." Which gave him an idea. "One of my replicas can search."

Xavier: "Won't they get trapped?"

Maximus: "I can take off the watch."

Xavier: "Would you taking off the watch protect your shadow?"

Maximus: "They always return."

Xavier: "But you feel what they feel, correct? So if whatever is potentially under the floor hurts your shadow, they hurt you."

Maximus: You're worrying about me again. And now Maximus was staring. "To a degree, m'lord," said softly.

Xavier: Xavier's answering gaze was steady, soft, and unwavering. "I won't put them or you in harm's way," he said gently. "The floor can be torn open with our powers and we can observe from a safe distance."

Maximus: "I'm not very good with telepathy, m'lord. It's why I suggest my men." His confession was given with square shoulders and sheepish eyes.

Xavier: "That's no trouble at all. I was already planning to tear up the floor. The method of doing so is the least our worries. What we should do is find some more white paint for the demon trap."

Maximus: "I'll go purchase some. The old cans found on my arrival were dry." A quick bow, he headed for the attic door.

Xavier: "Thank you. And Maximus?"

Maximus: "Yes, m'lord?" He turned to face him completely.

Xavier: I appreciate you sending one of your shadows to help me, and for taking time out of your day off to help me. You didn't have to but I'm grateful for your assistance. Thank you very much."

Maximus: "M'lord, there is no such thing as a day off." But he didn't want his master to feel upset. Which made no sense why it should matter outside of self-preservation, but still he said, "I want to help."

Xavier: Xavier smiled softly at Maximus. He wondered if his butler had any idea how unique that made him.

"Thank you for that, too."

Maximus: "Please, m'lord, don't look for the book until I'm back? For your...safety." Was that too strong?

Xavier: The smile remained in place as Xavier nodded. “You have my word.”

Maximus: Then he would hold him to it. Another bow, much slower this time, and turning once more. Again, just as slowly, as though reluctant to leave.

After quick grooming, his servant disappeared into town. A small can of white paint was purchased. A handkerchief dabbed to his nose as he thanked the cashier. Around the corner of the store, and he would disappear again. Another piece of cloth ruined for the sake of being discreet.

Xavier: While Maximus went to get what they needed, Xavier returned to the library, hoping to find more information about this mysterious book now that he knew what they were looking for.

Eisley had studied every other book he owned; surely he’d studied this one. Why get it otherwise?

Maximus: His servant could be seen from the entranceway. Just his shoulders and some of his head. Trying to wipe the last bit of blood from his nose. Without a mirror, he was simply guessing.

Xavier: Sensing the presence, Xavier looked out the window. Ah, Maximus was back.

He tapped on the window to get his butler’s attention. “Maximus,” he said at a normal volume. “Library.”

Maximus: Of course he heard. He nodded and gestured. Coming, m'lord.

His coat was shrugged away before making his appearance. "Have you found anything?" A pause. "M'lord?"

Xavier: "Absolutely nothing," Xavier sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I don't understand it. This was a man who took extensive notes on and analyzed nearly every piece of literature in his collection, especially if it was Russian. Why not study what was probably the most arcane and interesting text he owned?"

Maximus: "Safety, perhaps? He didn't want others to know about it? One of the most dangerous things a man can do is put words to paper."

Xavier: He nodded thoughtfully. "Very plausible. But if that's the case, how did he discover its existence? And why that particular volume? We know from the title that there are at least nine in total, so why that one?"

Xavier heaved a long sigh. "We have too many questions and too few answers."

Maximus: "May I speak freely, m'lord?"

Xavier: "Please."

Maximus: Maximus gently raked his teeth over the corner of his bottom lip. "From what you've described to me, perhaps this is not as deep as we assume. He could have just happened on the book."

Xavier: "You think there could be a chance this was all...well, chance?" It would make sense. If Eisley was interested in the supernatural, there would be more to show for it.

Maximus: "For him not to have anything else in the house, m'lord, it feels more likely the more we learn."

Xavier: Xavier nodded thoughtfully. "I rather think you might be right. For all we know, it was an impulse purchase that went very, very wrong."

Maximus: A single nod. "I shall repair the roof. I will come to you when I've finished." He bowed once and turned away.

Xavier: "Not so fast, I'm coming with you. I'm trusting that attic less and less by the moment."

Maximus: His command stuttered his pace to a sudden halt, looking back towards his master with a face of mixed emotions. Most of which were swallowed down to a single expression of patience.

Xavier: Xavier offered him a smile. "If it turns out to be nothing, you have full permission to accuse me of being paranoid. Until then, I'm protecting you from the attic."

Maximus: "Protection which will be rewarded with your favorite meal when this is put to rest, m'lord." He managed a smile of his own more professional than what he was feeling.

Xavier: "Reward is not necessary but is very appreciated." He would also be giving Maximus hazard pay but there was no need to bring that up at the moment.

Xavier led the way back up to the attic, half expecting something to be up there waiting for them.

"If we don't have one of those long paintbrushes, I propose we tie the paintbrush to the end of the poker to avoid accidentally getting stuck."

Maximus: "I'm going to bring a ladder. I want this trap sealed properly. I'll work from the inside out, of course." Another one of those pauses. "If, that is, your lordship is comfortable with my plan."

Xavier: "Yes, of course. As long as you place the ladder well outside the trap and tie the brush to the poker."

Maximus: Well, then. Would his master catch the deep expansion of his chest and the slow exhale via nostrils?

Xavier: He would, and while normally he wouldn't make this much of a fuss, this situation was very much an exception.

"I ask only that you indulge your employer's paranoia, my dear."

Maximus: Now he would see what the duplicates could not react to. The stutter of his breath, the warmth of his cheeks, the way he could no longer maintain his gaze.

Xavier: Xavier smiled softly to himself, suddenly filled with a sort of calm, quiet confidence he hadn't had this morning in the kitchen.

But he would think about that later on. They had pressing business.

"I'll tie the brush to the poker. You fetch the ladder."

Maximus: He wanted to say, 'yes, m'lord' as so often the custom, but he could not open his mouth. Instead bowing and retreating from the room to rub his face with both hands.

Take it out of me.

He would return with the ladder, rolled sleeves, and a black apron accentuating his figure. He knew the sigil by heart, and knew which symbols needed the most repair. So long as the circle remained incomplete, he was safe. He would insist if his master said otherwise.

Xavier: Xavier entered the small room not long after Maximus, brow furrowed slightly as he tightened the knot securing the brush and poker together before handing it to his butler.

He kept a close eye on the repainting process, making sure Maximus didn't accidentally paint himself inside.

When there was just a small gap left, he reached for the poker-brush. "Down you get, Maximus."

Maximus: He would have argued if not for the indisputable pull to obey. Down as he was instructed. The brush clenched in his right hand. A few little white dots littered his forearms. A single drop on his left cheek, amongst his many freckles.

"I can finish on this side, m'lord. It's not going to take my hand."

Xavier: And here it was. A more perfect opportunity could not have been asked for, and to waste it would not only be criminal, but incredibly stupid.

"It might," he said softly, lifting his hand ever so carefully to Maximus' face to wipe away the paint on his cheek. "Better safe than sorry."

Maximus: Two months ago, his toy soldier would have said and done nothing. A perfectly stone face, eyes forward. He'd grown unfortunately accustomed to monsters and their insatiable needs. One month ago, he might have flinched and apologized. Not accustomed to this particular monster.

Maximus was frozen. Eyes locked on his master and chest aching. One, two, three quick and heavy breaths before he realized his body's reaction. Xavier was so warm, gentle...

"I-" Don't be stupid. Eyes forward. An attempt was made for composure. "I understand," he managed to pluck from thin air.

Xavier: Xavier watched Maximus intently, waiting for him to recoil or turn away or something. But none of that happened. Maximus simply froze, his breathing quickened. His heart probably raced.

"Good." His hand lingered meaningfully a few moments longer, thumb gently brushing Maximus' cheek again under the pretext of more paint. It felt like an eternity before Xavier finally lowered it.

Maximus: His servant swallowed thickly. He wanted to look down at that hand. This moment had been contemplated for days, weeks. At first, it had been shameful fantasy out of desperation. So the inevitable would be less scarring. But Xavier had yet to change course. He could be wrong; he'd been wrong before. A particularly cruel master pursuing a lengthy torture spurred by false hope. That's what Master Atlas was going to be.

But his intuition whispered doubt. Xavier maintained his humanity. Time and again he protected, refused to sell, refused to take advantage of his power.

Take this emotion out of me.

"M'lord..." his mouth was impossibly dry. His tongue was of no help to his lips. "We should...I must see to the sigil."

Xavier: It took a bit for Maximus' words to penetrate. Xavier was too focused on his expressions and reactions and breathing, on the way his tongue darted out to try to moisten his lips.

Had they gone dry? Was his touch the cause? What was running through that mind of his?

The sigil....oh! "Right, yes. Of course."

Xavier wouldn't dash away like a child caught misbehaving; he just took a step to the side to allow Maximus access. His gaze never left his butler's face.

Maximus: It was now Maximus' turn to hesitate. His cheek suddenly felt frozen without Xavier there.

But there was work to be done. Whatever that moment was, his master was finished. He had to force himself to return to task.

The last of the sigil was completed. The room felt much colder and less inviting, as often the energy with such wards. He took a step back to admire his work, back nearly hitting the wall.

Xavier: Xavier felt the change in energy immediately. He had been fortunate enough to only be in a trap two or three times, but the things still filled him with a deep foreboding.

He took a deep breath. "Right then." He moved toward the doorway and motioned for Maximus to do the same. They needed to get a comfortable amount of distance away while still keeping the whole room in sight.

"Stand behind me."

Maximus: At this point, the little attic room was nothing more than a distraction. One which he would gladly take if only to save face. He positioned himself as commanded, quietly, and occupied himself by closing the paint.

Xavier: Placing himself firmly between Maximus and the spot he'd be tearing up, Xavier took another deep breath and focused.

After a moment or two, they'd both be able to feel the floor beneath their feet tremble ever so slightly. There would be a creak, a groan, and the first of several planks would come loose with a loud crack.

Maximus: Maximus watched from around his master's shoulder. Anticipation for something of value underneath the floorboards. Yet the sight of a thick, leather-bound book layered in dirt still came as a mild surprise. His theory had been valid. He felt of greater value.

"Very good, m'lord."

Xavier: Xavier couldn't quite tell if he was relieved or not, but he was smiling nonetheless. "I should be saying that to you. Excellent work, Maximus. You were right. And now..."

It took some maneuvering, but Xavier managed to lift the book out of its hiding place and keep it in the air while he replaced all the floorboards.

"Now the question is, do we open it?"

Maximus: "I...would rather not, but this is not my house. I would sooner burn it."

Xavier: "That's not a bad idea. If it was bad enough to hide, it's bad enough to keep closed."

He glanced over his shoulder. "Is there a barrel or bin we can use to burn it in?"

Maximus: "One - There's one in the woods, I think. I'll fetch it. I should think we need salt for good measure."

Xavier: Xavier nodded. "Yes, we probably should. While you're getting the bin, I'll get the salt." The book would be fine in the demon trap. Technically, it hadn't ever left the demon trap, only changed levels slightly.

Maximus: He wanted to look back at the book one last time. He wanted to feel the texture with his fingertips, but of course neither of them would be handling it. It was better this way, surely. The barrel was found by foot, half a mile from the house, and returned on his shoulder. These were work clothes, and he would not mourn the loss of them should they scuff.

Xavier: It was indeed better this way. Xavier was growing exceedingly fond of his home and the things within it; he didn't want to see any of it harmed or destroyed by whatever was in that book.

After making a stop in his bedroom to grab his gloves, he went to the kitchen to get the salt. Every single precaution had to be taken.

Maximus: Maximus awaited in the driveway. His go-to for burning, as no flora would be harmed in doing so. Was this everything they needed? Would this be enough to destroy whatever the book contained? And then there would be no mystery left within the house. Save for the one between himself and his master.

Xavier: Gloves on and salt in hand, Xavier returned to the attic to free the book. Moments later the front door would open and said book would float out, followed a few feet later by Xavier.

"Should we put salt in the barrel as well as the perimeter outside it?"

Maximus: "I think so, m'lord. Do we have enough salt for both?"

Xavier: "Perhaps. Let's do the perimeter first and if we have any left, we'll put it in the barrel."

Maximus: He didn't think he would need gloves for this. All he intended to handle was the barrel and the kindle. Lighter fluid intended to saturate the book. "M'lord, are you... There is nothing else we'll need? We're certain?"

Xavier: "Well...." He considered the scene before him. He trusted the salt to keep anything malicious contained, but there had to be a reason Eisley had taken so many precautions.

"Do you think we should paint another trap?"

Maximus: "We have enough paint."

Xavier: Xavier nodded. "Let's paint another trap. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure." He was just full of proverbs today.

Maximus: Of which would cause a twitch to Maximus' mouth. "Wise you are, m'lord. A few more minutes and this will be over." He excused himself for the paint. This would need to be removed from the driveway before anymore grocery runs, but as his master had stated, the effort was worth the reward.

Xavier: "Thank you, Maximus," he said with a smile, keeping his gaze trained on his butler until he'd disappeared inside.

Xavier sighed as he turned back to the book. What a strange day this was turning out to be. This was the absolute last thing he expected when he'd been observing the reclusive Eisley.

Maximus: The sigil ended up being the width of the path to accommodate detail. This would only work if each symbol was easily defined. The last of the circle was painted in. More grime collected on his knees in the process. He was going to need a bath and new clothes before dinner.

"This should do it." Paint and brush were set aside. The barrel was brought towards the circle. Xavier would have to finish.

Atlas. Master Atlas. His Lordship. Stop it.

Xavier: Xavier carefully floated the barrel into the middle of the trap and once it was in place, gently guided the salt circle into place. Pouring it would've been easier but moving it telekinetically was far safer.

Once everything properly in place, nothing demonic had any chance of escape.

"Right then. Let's get this over with and finally have done with all this Russian nonsense. How good are you with pyrokinesis?"

Maximus: "Amen," his servant whispered. "I know a spell. I could also throw a box of lit matches into the barrel. Which would you rather?"

Xavier: "Matches would probably be faster."

Maximus: "Practical wins out," he smiled. He felt in his pocket next to his cigarettes. One lit and pressed to the others, igniting the entirety. And without ceremony, tossed into the barrel.

Xavier: "We'll do something extravagant later to make up for it," Xavier said with a chuckle.

Relief flooded him as the contents of the barrel caught and went up in flames. At long last, no more mysteries, no remnants of odd obsessions, nothing. The manor was finally completely his.

But of course, as soon as he settled into his contentment, something tore through it.

In this particular case, it was a guttural tortured scream coming from the barrel that had him instinctively leaping back several feet and taking Maximus with him.

Maximus: Though Maximus was yanked back, his (learned) instinct was to shield his master by pushing him behind. The sound which accompanied the scream, like that of a shotgun inside the barrel, reverberated through his entire being. A single hand covered his ear. Pitch black eyes returned to the flames, on guard for something worse.

Xavier: It seemed they both had that instinct. While Maximus tried to shield Xavier, Xavier tried to do the very same thing to him, resulting in him practically hugging Maximus to his body in an effort to protect him.

The flames had turned a dark and almost sickly green. Screams continued to emanate from the barrel, soon accompanied by an arm desperately reaching up and outside the barrel. Its flesh was shriveled and slowly melting off the bone, causing even more screams to echo off the walls of the barrel and the brick surface of the house.

When the flesh was gone, the screams slowly faded to silence, and the flames returned to their normal orange and red.

Maximus: There was no other word to describe what he saw other than grotesque. His only determination was towards Xavier's safety. The salt circle would hold. The trap would not break. He wanted a closer look.

"We both knew," he whispered. "No one must ever discover what we've done." He'd yet to realize he'd been clutching to his master's wrist.

Xavier: Grotesque was the perfect word, if Xavier's disgusted expression was anything to go by.

Neither the salt circle nor the trap would break; whatever had burned to death in the barrel never stood a chance. Xavier was glad of it.

"So did Eisley apparently," he said, making a face at the charred bone hand. "How vile. I'm rather glad we never had to speak to it."

Maximus: "That could have been either of us, m'lord." He released Xavier's hand, mindful not to mention how he'd inappropriately held to his superior, and approached the sizzling barrel.

Xavier: "I'm not so sure. I've never seen anyone like us that looked like that."

He missed Maximus' touch the second he lost it. "Careful, darling, I don't trust whatever remnants might still be in there."

Maximus: This time, the pet name caused a visible hesitation in his steps. A quick glance over his shoulder.

"I'm not going to break the trap." He just wanted a closer look.

Xavier: Maximus would be met with a soft, fond smile. This time, the endearment hadn't been a slip. It was used very deliberately; his own gentle way of telling Maximus that everything was fine, that nothing he'd done had upset his employer.

"I know, I'm just being paranoid again."

Maximus: He would choose to ignore what was becoming obvious. Denial was the last left of defense he had.

"I want it to burn until dawn. I won't be comfortable leaving it unattended."

Xavier: Xavier would let Maximus hold to his denial, but only for a while. Even though he had absolutely no intention of being forceful, there was no chance of him relenting after today.

"We'll let it burn until there's nothing left then throw the ashes into a volcano."

Maximus: Maximus didn't want to know what Xavier was thinking. He would be too afraid of finding another Shore or Mays.

"Are you being serious, m'lord?"

Xavier: He nodded. "Completely. I've done it before with particularly nasty artifacts. Nothing can survive being melted by the earth."

Maximus: "I have lived a small lifetime as I am and I have to say that's a first."

Xavier: "I'm nothing if not inventive," he chuckled. "But until we can get to the volcano, the salt and trap will do."

Maximus: "Very well, then." He felt at his hand, the marks still present. He would have to return to his spell. He didn't feel comfortable leaving this alone.

"I'll make you something to eat in the meantime."

Xavier: "Thank you, Maximus." One day he would make sure his butler had a proper day off. "I'm going to do some more poking around in the attic, just to make sure there's nothing else up there."

Maximus: "Bring one of me with you." Oh. "I - I mean, if it suits you, m'lord."

Xavier: "Of course. One of your shadows led me to the very bit of knowledge that allowed us to rid ourselves of the book. They're tremendous assets."

Maximus: It's just me, he thought. He'd felt so forward with this demon since his first week in service. He was tired of adding more wood to that fire.

Three fresh wounds and two fresh creations in his image. One headed to the kitchen. The other remained at Xavier's side.

Xavier: It wasn't just him, and one way or another, Xavier intended to prove it.

"Come along, my dear," giving Maximus a parting smile before leading the shadow up to the attic. "Let's hope we don't find more of whatever is currently in the barrel."

Maximus: He would watch the back of his master until out of sight. The salt and trap were circled clockwise, searching for any out of place mark which would render their efforts useless. He tried to close his senses to the foul stench of burning flesh to little avail. The hand which hung from the barrel, barely attached to wrist by tendon, jarred his memories of damnation.

Xavier: Perhaps it was just his imagination, but the house felt different. Lighter. The air felt fresher, the light seemed brighter, the colors warmer. Could that be the result of the book demon burning?

Either way, "Something tells me we just did this house a great service. More so when we get rid of that small room. Not really a use for it anymore."

Maximus: The duplicate looked towards master with a rough brow and a wry smile. He shook his finger and rubbed his mouth. Charades was too simple for what the collective of Maximus wanted to say.

Xavier: "I always forget that you can't speak," he chuckled. "I should start carrying a pen and paper for you to use when you're with me. Would you like that?"

Maximus: Would you want me to speak to often? Could hardly be conveyed with just eyes, but they were humorous and curious just the same. There was a practical solution for this, was there not? Some elaborate form of charades?

The smallest shrug, a bow with palm-up hand. Whatever master wants, master gets.

Xavier: "We'll keep it under consideration. Our pantomiming is serving us well for now, as today has proven. Now, let's go explore our attic."

[rckfllrs-blog]

☁ * ⋆ : aw, look at this photo! it’s ORION ROCKEFELLER with their family! they’re an ARCHITECT, right? this photo must have been before HIS SON WAS BORN, but after HE RENOVATED ROCKEFELLER MANOR. i heard that when they were younger, they used to DRAW/PAINT – i can’t imagine them doing that now! man… i wonder if their family knows they ARE SUFFERING FROM UNDIAGNOSED PTSD. ( c, 18, pst. )

hellllooo everybody! i’m c ( the shawn mendes mascot on the main ) and this is my dorito of a muse, orion rockefeller. i’ve been working him up in my mind ever since we started working on goldstone and i am so freakin’ hyped to be able to finally write him with u all <3 so pls, keep reading for some info about him! ( and buckle up, bc it’s kind of a wild ride! )

tw: death, mentions of ptsd.

orion was born on february 14th, 1979 which makes him an aquarius, and also a valentine’s day baby

he's a GIANT goofball. ever since college, he's always been sort of a social butterfly and a people pleaser

genuinely one of the most caring people on the planet??? as a kid he'd get into fights with bullies who were picking on the smaller kids

has the DEEPEST divide between his private and public life. even his own son is mostly unaware of his childhood/background

he's an architect, and designs buildings/infrastructures for communities and stuff like that. he's won tons of awards for his work and travels a lot for conferences and things like that

his mother passed away during childbirth, so he never got to meet her, but her name was emily rockefeller ( originally adams ) and from what his father told him about her, she was a lovely, kind, but passionate woman and she would’ve loved him fiercely. ( his father also often told orion when he was being particularly stubborn that orion reminded him of emily, and that he has her eyes. )

his father was james “jimmy” rockefeller, a decorated US airforce pilot. he was also a descendant of the rockefeller family ( if you’re not from america/not too versed in american history, the rockefellers are considered the richest family in american history — john d. rockefeller was a stupid wealthy man! )

growing up without a mother was difficult, but he and his father were extremely close, and james made sure that he was close with his mother’s family, especially her sister and her parents. as for his paternal family, he didn’t know much about them growing up, besides the fact that he’s distantly related to america’s first millionaire. he was also pretty close with a lot of his father���s friends from the military and their children as well.

orion had a relatively normal childhood, save for the slight melancholy around mother’s day every year. his father did his best to deter him from any sort of toxic masculinity, and made sure he was getting the best education possible. when his father was away on assignment, he was usually in the care of his mother’s sister. he rarely got into trouble at school except for the occasional fight when he’d stick up for the smaller kids who were getting picked on.

his father was rarely away on assignment, maybe only once or twice, and when he was he usually returned within a few months. in the summer of 1990, he was deployed to iraq to serve in the gulf war, and he promised orion it would be his last deployment.

in february 1991, when orion was about to turn twelve, his aunt picked him up early from school one day, and said they were going to see one of his father’s military friends. orion thought it was odd, but he wasn’t going to complain — what kid doesn’t want to leave school early? when he got there, the home was full of people he didn’t recognize, all with solemn looks on their faces. his aunt had to turn away as they bore the news.

that afternoon, one week before he turned twelve, orion learned that his father had passed away. he was spared the details, but learned later in life that the plane he’d been piloting had been shot down in a freak ambush.

orion doesn’t remember much of the next few years of his life. they were a blur of a young boy learning how to mourn all over again, and trying to grow up at the same time. at first, he was placed with his mother’s sister, but as a traveling artist, she was deemed unfit to care for him. he was then sent to a distant uncle on his father’s side somewhere in rural Iowa who treated him like he wasn’t even there. orion attempted to run away twice, and succeeded on his third try when he made it all the way to chicago. he survived there, somehow, for a few weeks before he was found by a few federal agents — lo and behold, his uncle ( who probably wasn’t even his uncle, but orion doesn’t remember ) refused to take him back. so, orion, at the age of fourteen, was put in the foster care system.

on paper, nobody would’ve wanted him. riddled with the deaths of his parents and a habit of running away, coupled with the fact that he missed the “desirable adoption age” by about thirteen and a half years, most people didn’t even want to try. the ones that did, decided he would be too difficult to handle after they met him and saw the cold isolation in his eyes, and the stubborn set to his jaw.

he was moved from foster family to foster family over the next four years, all over california, and had been re-placed five times by his eighteenth birthday. but all the while, he managed to get through school and save as much money as he could, selling five-minute portraits in downtown LA and getting small gig jobs here and there. by the time he turned eighteen, he was determined to have enough to go to college — or at least move out on his own and finally do something on his own volition for once.

little did he know, someone would come knocking on his foster home’s door asking for him a few days after he turned eighteen. they represented the rockefeller estate, and they wanted to have a chat with him about his father.

james had left him his entire estate. all of it. every penny, everything he’d ever owned, all of his mother’s belongings — and on top of it all, the massive manor passed down through the rockefeller family located just at the edge of goldstone, california. his hometown.

he used some ( a relatively small portion ) of the money to accept his offer at university of california, san diego as an architecture major, and was at the top of his class there all the way up until he graduated as part of the class of 2001.

in his junior year of college, like any other guy, he slept around a bit, and thought nothing of it — up until a girl he’d slept with months ago approached him in the middle of his senior year and told him she was pregnant. she didn’t want to keep it, but it was also too late to terminate the pregnancy, so she was thinking of putting the baby up for adoption. immediately, memories of his entire adolescence flooded back to him, and he begged her not to — instantly, he offered to take full custody of the child, and she could visit whenever she wanted, if she wanted to at all. she agreed, and lo and behold, branwen rockefeller was born. ( he named him branwen after somebody his father had told him about when he was a kid — he doesn’t remember the story, or if he was related to him, but he remembered the name. )

he then went on to pursue a masters in architecture, and his main project was actually renovating the rockefeller manor — obviously, after 22 years of being owned by a bank, and many years before that of no upkeep, it needed some renovation. orion spent his entire MA studies renovating it and actually presented the whole process to receive his masters degree, which he did.

he spent the next few years traveling — with branwen by his side, they’d stay in goldstone for most of the school year, but every chance they’d get to take a vacation, orion would take them somewhere he’d always wanted to go as a kid.

finally, in 2014, when branwen was starting high school, orion figured it would be a good time to completely settle down in goldstone, stop travelling so much and pour his attention into the one thing he’d left unfinished — the manor. it wasn’t unfinished from a construction perspective — it was stunning actually, fully furnished with a gym, a home theater, countless bedrooms, and fully ready to be lived in — but for orion, there was one thing he’d always wanted to do when the timing was right: give kids who felt lost a place to call home. give kids who were like him, back in the day, a place to call home.

so that’s what he did. he spent months gathering the proper licensing and credentials to finally open rockefeller manor to the public. he’s a licensed social worker now, and rockefeller manor offers a place to stay to anybody between the ages of fourteen and twenty one, so long as they display a significant need for help. ( orion often ends up taking the “tougher cases” — the ones with nowhere else to go. and sometimes, kids just show up on their own, nobody to represent them — and who is he to turn them down? )

now, he divides his time between architectural projects for work ( he’s designed countless buildings all over southern california, and is incredibly busy designing new projects all the time ) and taking care of the manor, whether that be the kids that live in it or the building itself.

( as for his secret, he’s experienced symptoms of ptsd ever since his dad passed, but never really knew what it was. it worsened when he began moving around, unable to ever really call one place home, and now that he’s completely boxed away the memories of his adolescence, he’s completely compartmentalized it and honestly made it worse whenever he does get around to thinking about what he’s been through. he’s also never told anybody about his background -- the furthest he’ll go is that his father was an air force pilot, and he grew up in goldstone. he’s always just tried to push through it and ignore it, but when he’s under significant stress or there’s a lot on his plate, he’ll tend to shut down or even spiral into a panic attack. he keeps himself so busy because he can’t be by himself for too long, as his past has drilled into him an innate fear of being alone. during these episodes, he’ll often shut himself in his office with the door locked until it passes, terrified that one of the kids will see him like this — too stubborn to let any of them, especially the ones who look up to him, see him as weak. )

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

obvs, the kids from the rockefeller manor !! he's definitely a parental/paternal figure to them and runs a pretty tight ship to keep everybody in line, but he also knows when it's time to just let them be.

childhood friends?? he lived in goldstone until he was twelve and then disappeared after his father passed until he was in his thirties, essentially. so it would be interesting if there was somebody who knew him as a kid and can see the huge difference in him now (he used to be really irreverent and rambunctious and is now a Certified Gentleman)

his personal assistant !! this one is on the wc page on the main, but he has an assistant that helps him organize his work as an architect. they're probably the closest person to him other than his own son, so maybe they've caught glimpses of his ptsd episodes??

friends!!! he def has a lot of friends around town, he's a pretty familiar face throughout goldstone

perhaps??? a past love interest??? he swore himself off from dating after he had branwen, at least for a while, bc he wanted to focus on being a dad and taking care of the manor, but uh .... love doesn't work like that buddy pal ! hehe

literally anything else i am a heaux for plots