#I understand she tries to mingle bc I think there’s a part of her that wants to have an S.O which I totally get! I wanna companion too!

[sapphirewolf100]

Let go me...

[shoutogepi]

Pull of the Moon

Kirishima Eijirou

word count : 7.8k

[ ✘ (nsfw!), werewolf!au ]  

themes : masturbation, licking/biting, dom!Kiri, rough sex, dirty talk, slight choking, friends to lovers, confession

bio : Eijirou makes sure he’s far away from you for when the heat cycle strikes, but just when he thinks your friendship is safe from his monstrous hormones, there you are at his doorstep.

author’s note : so this is a fic that i wrote years ago for my kpop blog, linked in my bio. i wanted to repost it here for bnha, just bc i like the way i wrote it and i think it’s pretty fitting character-wise for Kiri! plus im a slut for werewolf fics. and also i wanted to post something while work is keeping me from writing something 100% new rn :3 pls note this is NOT plagiarized as I am the original author of the original fic.

side note : if there are any places where it says Jae, Jaebum, etc. lemme know bc it was a quick job i did converting this to a Kiri fic lol like even the title is the same oops

also available on AO3 here

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

“🅂o you’re sure you have to leave for tonight, Y/N?” Kirishima inquires, tilting his head in his open palm to crane his bright gaze up toward your face.  

“Yeah, I don’t think I can get out of visiting my parents for dinner this time,” you reply, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as you cuddle your chin into the warmth of Kirishima’s oversized scarf. The soft fabric grazes under your nose, and your eyes close blissfully as you inhale Kirishima’s strong, spicy aroma mingled with his cologne.

Kirishima watches you through slitted eyes, secretly pleased at your actions. Not that he would ever tell you, because that would be weird. He shuts his eyes tightly, telling himself in his head not to overthink it. Of course you like how he smells, he’s your friend. Friends like how each other smell… right? His body shivers as your fingers naturally slide into his thick, red hair. His face slides down as his body turns to jello, leaning completely on top of the table in complete euphoria at the feeling of your touch. If there was a price to have your hands on him for every hour of the day, he would pay it a thousand times over. His lips part as his jaw instinctively unhinges at your undivided attention like a newborn puppy, chin angling when your fingers slide down to the side of his jaw you brush just underneath it before pulling away.  

“Eiji, I really do have to go,” you murmur, fingers retreating from his form as he lets out a low whine. One of his warm eyes opens, scowling at you playfully.

“Okay,” he sighs when you push out your chair and begin to gather your things. He places some money on the table before following you out of the coffee shop. “I’m jealous, please bring me some of your mom’s noodles. You know how much I like them, and her.“

“I will Eiji. But you’re lucky you’re not coming, because all they ever do is gush about what a cute couple we’d be and it always ends up being weird,” you trail off, nodding to yourself.

Kirishima nods too but his heart jumps at you thinking of him as an intimate partner.

“By the way, thanks for the latte. And tell Mina hello for me when you see her tonight,” you laugh with a suggestive wink.

Kirishima rolls his eyes. “You know I’m only spending the night with her to help her with her… issues."

You smack his arm and scoff. “As if that’s a burden to you! At least you’re spending the night having fun. I’m just gonna be answering the million questions my parents will be asking about you the whole time and falling asleep in my bed by myself."

“It’s not my fault I’m so lovable,” he banters, a cheeky grin splicing between his lips, trying to shake the image of you alone in bed out of his imaginative mind.

“Say that to you baku-squad,” you retort, the two of you now standing in front of the cafe as you linger before your journey to the bus station.

“Hey— wait, is that my scarf?” Kirishima asks, pretending to notice just now when he really did the moment you walked in two hours ago. But you looked so cute all bundled up in his scarf that he decided not to say anything, content to see you warm and happy in his own clothing.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” you unwrap it from your neck and Kirishima gazes at the newly-revealed skin there with longing, forgetting about the scarf. “Eiji?"

He snaps out of it. “What? Oh— the scarf.. Keep it, I was just teasing,” he mumbles as you hook the material around the back of his neck. He’s considerably tall, massive frame towering over you so much that you have to strain your arms to fling the material onto his shoulders.

“That’s okay Eiji... you look cute in it, so wear it for Mina,” you smile half-heartedly, tugging the fabric at the ends to coil around his throat snugly. “Don’t worry about me."

“I always worry about you, Y/N,” Kirishima gazes into your eyes with a passionate longing undetectable to you. Not Mina, he wants to add.

“Well, don’t, Red, I’ll be okay. I always am,” you trace his jaw slowly with a finger before your hands fall at your sides, brushing off your coat.  

Kirishima nods hesitantly, falling into a quiet, comfortable pace beside you.  

Your boots quickly become cold as the two of you trudge through the slush from leftover snow, the bitter winter breeze chilling your nose and ears. Sooner than either of you would like, you’ve reached the bus station. Kirishima shuffles from foot to foot, arguing with himself as to if he should ask you to stay and have dinner with him instead of going on the hour-long ride to your parents’.  

“Are you sure this is okay? You don’t want me to come with you? Or I can drive you. The roads aren’t that great tonight… Mina will understand. She doesn’t— We’re not dating, you know— me and her, I mean, I only… help her as a friend.. So I can cancel, and she won’t have any issues. She has lots of other guy friends,” Kirishima reasons.

“Eiji,” you chuckle, taking your duffel bag from his hand that he’d carried for the journey here, “Mina needs you.”

But I need you, Kirishima thinks as he bites his lip. “Okay… have a safe ride then. And text me when you get there.”  

“Yes, Dad,” you laugh. You slip into his arms easily, almost naturally, and press your face against his chest beneath his wool jacket.  

Kirishima’s arms encircle you immediately, instinctively pulling you to him as his chin falls atop the crown of your head. “I’ll miss you,” he breathes.

“Don’t be weird, Eiji,” you giggle, pulling away from him much too soon for his liking. “See you tomorrow.”  

Kirishima watches you walk into the bus terminal, duffel bag in your hand with his heart unknowingly tucked deep inside of it.

Kirishima paces back and forth between the couch and the dining table. His nerves are shaky and his body uncharacteristically twitchy. He’d been smelling female wolves around the city all day while he was out with you, but he managed to ward them off with icy glares and his steel-strong self-control. It also helped that you were there to distract him, seeing as when he wasn’t with you, you were the only thing on his mind. But now that he was alone— Mina had cancelled on him to spend the night with an “old friend” that had come back to town— and he was all by himself, he was feeling the full effects of the female wolf hormones he’d breathed in for the past twelve hours.

He closes his eyes as his mind wanders to the image of you wrapped up in his scarf in the cafe; the warm scent of coffee; the condensation on the windows; your light-filled eyes on him; the scent of your freshly-washed hair… He opens his eyes, tongue running over his front teeth as he feels the evident, sharp prod of his elongated cuspids as a result of his piqued interest. He groans, feeling his eyes dilate just the slightest of fractions. He sits on the floor, sliding down the wall with a frown on his plump lips.

Kirishima watches the hands of the clock tick on the wall in front of him for a moment before he shuts his eyes and smacks his head back against the drywall, a loud whine releasing from his throat. The apartment lacks of things that could possibly captivate his attention at the moment; all he can do is think about you— your pretty face, your gentle caress on his skin just hours before. There are no messages from you and his sensitive ears long to hear the chime notification that signifies your safe arrival.  

“Just friends,” he murmurs, “just friends, just friends, just friends."

He tries to breathe in deeply to relax himself, but success quickly slips through his grasp as the scent of you lingers on the scarf casually thrown over the back of the sofa. His jaw clenches as his teeth gnash, taking in your alluring aroma. He tries to think of something— anything else, but he eventually gives up, slamming his palms flat on the hardwood floor as he pushes himself up. He lunges toward the couch, throwing himself onto the open cushions as his hands immediately find the soft cotton. He brings the material to his nose, a low moan falling from his open mouth as the intense smell floods his senses.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, readjusting his hips as he feels his body reacting swiftly to the pull of your scent. He hisses lightly as he feels the blood rush to his pants, wiggling his hips around to feel the delicious friction against his hardening erection. He rubs the inside of his thigh gently with his palm, imagining your small hand instead of his on his jean-clad length. “God, this is so fucked,” he gasps, grip strengthening on himself through his jeans. Originally his plan for the evening consisted of fucking Mina senseless and imagining it was you, but seeing as she had cancelled, this was the next best option.  

Kirishima fumbles with his belt and shimmies out of his jeans, ripping his constrictive t-shirt over his head and whipping it elsewhere into the living room. He kicks the denim off from around his ankles next, one hand holding the soft fabric of the scarf close to his nose and the other trailing toward his throbbing hard-on from the bend of his knee; how he imagines your hand would do.

A feral grunt dislodges from the back of his throat as he pictures your hair falling around your perfectly cherubic face that leans down toward his own, one hand pressing his chest down against the couch cushion and the other hand on his thigh tracing the outline of his cock straining against his briefs. His hips jerk as his forefinger runs from tip to base, his thumb sliding backwards over the previous route to caress the head of his dick gently in circular swipes. He seals his lips together by sucking in the bottom one, his canines lengthened by arousal piercing the soft flesh of the lower lip so that a metal taste floods his mouth, but he only closes his eyes and continues his ministrations.

Kirishima continues to skim the pads of his fingertips over the prominent erection that pushes against his underwear in defiance, face pressed into the back of the sofa so the cushions catch his heavy moans instead of his neighbors. He halts for a moment so he can find a throw pillow to sink his fangs into, positioning the scarf above his lip and against the pillow so it presses right against his hypersensitive nose. A strangled moan tears from him, his hand immediately returning to his leaking hard-on. It dips underneath the band of his boxers before it wraps around his width, squeezing tight. His body shakes and he sucks in a breath, squirming to lay flat against the leather of the sofa. Slowly he moves his hand up to encompass the head, a heavy snarl being lost into the throw pillow. He strokes himself teasingly, thumb trailing behind to caress the aching tip. His hips push into the cushion as his body moves to a natural rhythm, thrusting them up slightly as his fist falls back down toward his abdomen. The thick precum dribbling from his tip lathers his palm so his cock slides into it easily. His eyelashes tickle his high cheekbones as his eyes shut tighter, fingertips tracing the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft.

The sofa wheezes as he shifts, impatiently pushing his briefs down in one tug to rest on his mid-thighs. He scoots off of the sofa and onto the hardwood floor, kneeling as he places his fist onto the tabletop, lining his hips delicately before sliding his length into his firm grasp. He whimpers into the pillow, now damp with his saliva, and hunches over the table, his free arm curled underneath his broad torso. The fabric of the scarf tickles his nose but he inhales deeper, hips pushing in and out of his fist quickly. He imagines you beneath him instead of the table and his fist, moaning with him as his canines sink into your neck to mark you as his and only his. His destitute wails are swallowed by the soft pillow and the scarf as he keeps thrusting steadily, imagination running so wildly he can almost feel your legs on either side of him, pushing him further inside of you.

“Oh, Y/N,” he grunts, cuspids fully lengthened and sharpened now in desire, piercing the soft fabric of the pillow almost enough so his bottom and top teeth could touch through the plush object,” Y/N, I’m gonna—“

Knock knock knock.

Kirishima’s body stills as he opens his eyes, disappointment rushing through him at the sight of the coffee table underneath him. He wants to scream, but he just shuts his eyes, taking a breath in before sliding his hard cock out of his fist and tucking the slick inconvenience back into his boxers. His breath is labored and heavy, but he manages to find his jeans and slip them on anyway. “One sec,” he says loudly, fastening the button before hesitantly wiping his hand on the side of the denim. He can’t help but sulk as he walks over and picks his shirt up from the floor, breathing deeply and hoping his canines aren’t too obvious of an indicator as to what he was just doing… not to mention the angrily-pulsing dick resting against the inside of his thigh.  

He strides toward the door, opening it ready to tell Mina he thought she’d cancel when he’s greeted with your sweet face and the scent of Italian food. His jaw almost hits the floor as he gapes at you, dick pressing longingly against his jeans at your familiar smell, but in person it radiates off of you so strong he almost lunges at you. You’re looking up at him with those bright cheerful eyes he loves, a timid smile on your lips as you swing the takeout bag back and forth behind your back in anticipation.  

“Hi, Eiji,” you smile and set the bag on the ground next to the door before you turn around and take his tense body into your arms, throwing yourself onto him.  

A gasp rips from his throat but quickly turns into a cough, body trembling at your singeing touch. His jaw quivers as he conceals his pointed teeth, angling his thigh away from you strategically. “Y-Y/N, w-what are you doing here?” He manages to ask, lips sealing immediately once the words are pushed out.   His hands remain clenched at his sides; he’s scared that if he touches you now he won’t be able to stop.  

“There was a freak accident on the highway ahead of my bus… We had to turn back. My parents don’t mind though, they said we can reschedule. Maybe you won’t need to miss my mom’s noodles this time; you can come if you want. By the way, I brought Italian!” You smile as you pick up the bag and brush past him, leaving him standing there, looking at the door with a glare.

You move around the sofa and sit on one of the leather cushions, setting the bag onto the coffee table. “Ew Eiji,” he sits next to you stiffly, eyes widening as you reach over to the table and poke a finger into the slick trail of precum that had dribbled out of his fist just moments ago. “What is this? Do you ever clean this apartment?” You giggle, unfolding the paper bag the food had come in and wiping your finger on your skirt. “Anyway, I got food from your favorite place and made sure I got the breadsticks with the extra sauce ‘cause I know you lov—“

A quiet groan escapes Kirishima’s mouth as he puts his head in his hands— your scent, your alluring body, your heart-swelling gaze, just you, being here—it’s too much for his raging hormones.  

“Ei? Are you okay?” You ask, scooting closer and pressing the back of your hand to his forehead. He’s shaking and you don’t know why, so you bring his head to rest against your collar, just above your fluttering heart. “Eiji, you’re burning up…”  

He stays pressed against you, the desperation and torture he felt earlier suddenly fleeting and gone from his body as your own erases them completely. He swallows. It feels so good, but he knows it’s wrong. This is wrong when you’re just his friend and his dick is leaking into his underwear for you as you hold him like this.

“Get out,” Kirishima murmurs, eyes set on the paper bag.  

You still, slowly pulling him. “W-What Eiji?”  

“You need to leave,” he says through his teeth, jaw set tight.  

“Eijirou.. I don’t understand— is this how you treat someone when they bring you your favorite food?” You spit, hands curling into frustrated fists.

Kirishima ignores you, knowing he can apologize tomorrow when he’s in the right mindset but you being here with him at the moment could jeopardize your entire relationship.

“I… Is it… her? Is it Mina?” You murmur, and Kirishima’s gaze turns to you sharply at the drop in your tone. His lips part to say something to soothe your confidence as he sees it shatter. “I didn’t realize— I thought—” you breathe in sharply and shake your head, shooting up from your spot and rushing around the sofa.  

Kirishima beats you to the door, palm reaching over your shoulder to slam it just as you can get it open a sliver. He grabs your biceps, spinning you around and pressing you against the door with his hand as a cushion to break your impact.

“It’s never been Mina,” he snarls, knee splitting your legs and sliding up the gap between your thighs to press against your core; your panties and his jeans the only thing separating your center from his skin.

Your eyes widen and you gasp as his hands cup your face with care, scarlet eyes searing into your own with an intensity you’d never seen before. His pupils are dilating with every second, a black coal seemingly swallowed up by the burning fire of his irises.

“It’s you, Y/N,” he murmurs, eyes shutting into a long blink, and when they open again the red you’re used to is flooded with tendrils of electric amber and yellow. “It’s always been you, and it’ll always be you.”

You gape at him as he holds you there, against his front door, professing his love to you.

“I need you Y/N, I need you so bad it fucking hurts not being able to touch you,” he growls lowly. “If you can’t love me back, you have to leave, now. I don’t want your lust, I can smell it from here,” his honeyed eyes roll back as he takes in a whiff of the wanton-perfumed air around you, mouth parting and you watch his pink tongue slide over his elongated canines, feeling a tremor between your legs. His eyes open and they set straight on yours with a certain determination. 

“I can’t wake up next to you tomorrow and have tonight be just for friends with benefits. I love only you, Y/N,” Kirishima delivers, voice never quivering,“now tell me you feel the same, or go.”

There’s a slight fragility in his gaze that begs you not to break his heart. He peers into you at such a small distance that you can see every brilliant fleck of gold in his sinful eyes, warm ginger bursting around the outer ridges of his irises that focus solely on you. The dim lighting casts stretched shadows from his long, dark lashes; his bronzed skin glowing subtly to intensify his passionate gaze.

“Kirishima,” you place a hand on his clenched but trembling jaw, tilting your face to look him in the eye better. “You’ve been hurting all this time for no reason.”  

His scarlet gaze lights with hope and happiness. “Say it then,” he whispers, words soft and nearly begging, as if he fears if his voice is too loud he’ll wake from a dream.

“Kirishima Eijirou, I love you, too. God, I have beein in love with you for so long,” you reply, and he wastes no time as his mouth descends upon yours. He presses your lips to his passionately, hands resting on your hips and rubbing the smooth skin there underneath your blouse. You gasp as they guide your hips gently in circles against his kneecap, your mouth falling open at his forward actions. He takes advantage of your open mouth and darts his tongue in, tangling it with yours in a powerful embrace.  

His steady clutch on your waist drags your body up his clothed thigh, and a soft, unabashed moan falls from your lips at the action. The taut muscle of his leg between his jeans and your panties rubs graciously against your flustered center, making your head loll back to rest against the door.  

“Don’t do that,” Kirishima groans, a hand leaving your warm hip and tilting your head forward once again to look at him directly. His fingers trail against your smooth neck, feeling the rapid pulse beneath the tender skin. His palm curls softly around the back of your neck, pressing you closer to him as his other arm hooks underneath your bottom. You squeak in surprise and cling to him, legs wrapping around his midsection and core pressing upon his rigid erection.  

You look at him with wide eyes as he throws his head back, sucking in air harshly between his clenched jaw. “Fuck, yes,” he hisses, holding you tighter and stalking over to the sofa. He places you in between the two cushions, standing in front of you and looking down, breathing laboriously before he tilts his head back again, willing for some kind of miraculous strength to get him through the night without sealing you to him forever.

“How come you get to do that and I don’t?” You frown as he looks down at you before he crouches, his face dropping just below your own to gaze up at you.  

“Because you don’t have the urge to sink your three-centimeter canines into my throat,” his upper lip curls back as he shows you the result of his attraction to you.  

You look at him with unintentionally pouted lips, batting your eyelashes as you take in his words. Isn’t that how werewolves marry or something? You think. Kirishima had explained it all once before, one night when you were both wasted at three in the morning at some bar on the outskirts of the city.  

“God, can you look unattractive for one second while I try to pull myself together?” Kirishima groans, a hand running through his disheveled hair.

“Who said I want you to pull yourself together?” You inquire, scooting toward the lip of the cushion.  

Kirishima looks at you warily with an underlying, longing hunger before you place your hands on either side of his sharp jaw and bring his lips to yours. Your eyes close immediately and his blissfully, your hands gliding down his neck to his broad chest. You grapple onto his wide shoulders, one hand burying into the hair at the base of his neck to push him into the kiss even more.  

His throat vibrates gently with an almost-inaudible growl, and you part his tender lips with a swipe of your tongue, the pink muscle coasting in and gently feeling the warm, smooth hardness of his cuspids.

Kirishima untucks your blouse in one pull, fingers nimbly undoing each button before sliding the clothing off your shoulders and tossing it away. His hands lay strategically on your ribs, fingertips brushing the underwire of your bra just barely.  

He pulls you forward into his arms, hands splaying onto your back with delight, fingers undoing the fastening between your shoulder blades with glee. You lean into him as he flings the bra in the direction of the blouse, mouth instantly latching to your breast and tongue twirling around the swollen bud. You wail, pushing him closer as his teeth bump against your nipple and his lips grow taut with a warm smirk, depraved gaze intense as ever.

You want more than ever to throw your head back onto the top of the sofa, but you know you’re forbidden to do so. Instead, you slide your body further down onto the cushions, hips brushing against Kirishima’s torso as his mouth leaves your nipples, your face coming to a stop directly in front of his. Your hands cup his angular jaw again, coaxing his lips onto yours into an ardent kiss. His long eyelashes flutter against your blushed cheeks, his coarse hair drifting softly through your digits.  

His hands land on your rolling hips, scuttling closer on his knees so his crotch feels the steady rhythm. He hums, a primitive trembling in his throat that sounds more like a soft growl. Your hands fall to the hem of his snug t-shirt, which he gladly expels into the corner toward your blouse and bra. You lean back a bit and admire his toned form. His broad chest, pectorals curving dramatically to his wide shoulders seamlessly; the v shape tapering down to the top of his jeans; the faint trail of dark hair waning below the brass button to his jeans; the way his abdominal muscles flex with each heavy breath; the salient outline against his thigh that both he and you know aches for your attention.  

You can’t help yourself. You reach between his strong thighs, fingers skimming along the bulge mockingly. Kirishima’s head rolls full circle, hand clutching your wrist tightly as he stares into you, lips parting and hot pink tongue gliding along his white, sharp teeth. “That was very naughty of you,” he murmurs, honeyed eyes darkening to a burnt orange. Trepidation ignites in your heart, but also desire floods your senses as well as your panties.  

“Eijirou,” you breathe and his lip curls back into a snarl, a loud growl releasing from his throat. His nostrils flare and he swallows harshly.  

“Say it again,” he orders, leaning into your face.

“E-Eijirou,” it comes out as a whisper, but his sensitive ears hear the slight whine to your tone, and his cock jumps at the sound against your eager fingertips. “You like it when I say your name, Eiji?”  

His tongue runs swiftly over his lip, his eyeing your chest hips hungrily. His hand reached forward on its own accord, sliding effortlessly under the soft material of your skirt to press against your warmed, wet panties. His lips curve into a devious smirk, fangs poking out slightly as his dark, copper-tainted eyes set on yours. “Mmm, and you like it when I growl for you, baby girl?”  

“God, yes Eiji,” you answer and gulp at his overwhelming intensity. He trains his gaze to the movement of your fragile throat, tongue flicking around one canine subconsciously. A deep purr of sorts emanates from him in approval, making your legs tremble and press together around his intruding forearm.  

He smiles devilishly, white teeth glinting in the dim lighting. His other hand circles round your back, pushing your tailbone so your body slides forward on the couch, to the very edge of the cushion. His fingers nudge your thong aside, immediately met with your poignant arousal. The tips of his middle and ring finger separate your folds facilely, gliding over your entrance and clit making you bite your lip to hold in an impatient moan. “Oh baby, you’re so wet for me,” he chuckles. “If only we’d figured this out sooner.”

“Eiji, fuck,” you cry when he rubs your clit gently, your jaw trembling as you sag against his arm’s firm hold and the back of the sofa. You can’t throw your head back so you lean forward, elbows falling on Kirishima’s generous shoulders, the side of your face against his soft hair as his tongue guides a pebbled nipple into his mouth, caressing it slowly and pressing it against his teeth. You whimper pathetically, his thumb replacing his fingers as they slide down and glide half-way right into your awaiting entrance.  

He hooks the two fingers and presses repeatedly, making you shove his face closer to your breasts in pleasure. He slides them deeper, knuckles lapping against your slick entrance as his tongue works diligently on your nipple. You clench around him and moan loudly at the depth his fingers achieve, the feeling of total ecstasy near. It had been a long time since a man had touched you, and it was no where near as incredible as having Kirishima’s thick fingers rubbing inside you.

“Eijirou, that feels so—” you warn but he only picks up the pace. He leans down, tongue replacing his thumb smoothly and you almost scream. He strokes your clit fervently, tongue lapping persistently up and down as his long canines brush on either side, his fingers curling and straightening at the same pace. “Fuck Eiji— I’m seriously gonna cum,” you pant, falling back against the back of the sofa.  

He looks up at you mischievously, dark eyes alight with arousal and a touch of humor. You feel his full lips in a smirk as he wraps them around your clit, tongue lavishing it faster. One hand falls to his hair, gripping it tight as the other curls against your mouth, your eyes shutting tight as your orgasm smashes against you like a wave crashing down upon you. You moan, body quivering in Kirishima’s strong grip, wiggling pointlessly against the sofa cushions.  

Kirishima doesn’t cease until you’ve returned from your high, standing up and unfastening his jeans quickly, pushing them down and kicking them off when they reach his ankles. You sit up from your slumped position, hands landing on his thighs and traveling around to rub the backs of them in anticipation. Kirishima watches you hungrily, his thick cock longing for your attention. You lean forward, almost touching where he wants you most, before you look up at him and give him your most innocent doe eyes you can muster after having his sinful session on you just moments before. You bat your lashes and he growls loudly, fists clenching at his sides.  

“Y/N,” he advises, tone a little menacing. You tilt your head and press your lips against his erection through his briefs, a low groan sounding from above you. You kiss down toward the tip and back up to the base of his shaft before you reach up and untuck him, briefs sliding to the hardwood floor. You smirk as you look at what you’ve done to him. His dick is throbbing gently as you rest it against a palm, beads of translucent-white precum adorning the tip of the red, swollen tip. You repeat your kiss trail on his bare skin, his cock twitching at the action as you feel the vein underneath contract harshly. When you reach the base your tongue pokes out, tracing up and down the prominent vein on the underside.  

Kirishima watches you with a dark, maleficent gaze, throat tightening and a growl tumbling out when you take the head into your mouth, sucking teasingly as your tongue dances around the leaking tip. “Fuck yes, baby girl. Just like that."

You retreat with a loud pop, smiling up at him and his heart flutters in his chest at the pureness of it. With an open mouth you glide your tongue along the sides of him to slicken his entire length before your lips encompass the tip and suddenly his dick is touching the back of your throat and you don’t even seem to mind. Kirishima lets out a strangled moan of shock, watching your head bob energetically up and down his hot length. He watches you in awe for a few minutes, just dazed this is really happening and he’s not waking up abruptly like when he’d dreamt this scenario so many nights before.  

He snaps out of it suddenly, aware his cock is tensing the way it does when he’s about to cum. You’d noticed, too, at the feel of the harsh, bulging vein on the under-shaft, slowing down to a halt and leaning back to catch your breath.

“Baby you did so good,” he praises, hands cupping your face and you beam at him proudly. “Now take off your skirt for me.”  

You comply eagerly, shimmying out of the cotton garment, your thong following close behind. Kirishima smugly watches the stings of your arousal snap as your panties are thrown onto the floor, fist stroking his length slowly to keep himself at bay.

“Turn,” he instructs, other hand guiding you to face away from him,” knees on the couch, now.”  

You do as told, looking back at him over your shoulder expectantly. He smiles and steps forward, and your back arches as you feel his length glide against your dripping entrance.  

“Be a good girl for me, okay? Do not let me get anywhere near your throat, got it? If I do, I’ll sink my teeth into you so fast you won’t know what’s happening. And then you’re stuck with me for life. So watch out for yourself, baby. This is your only warning,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear before a hand lands on your hip and suddenly he’s pushing into you, a gasp tearing from your throat as he stretches you to your capacity. When his hips bump against your ass your eyes have already rolled back in delirium, your lip falling open in shock.  

He pulls out half-way before sheathing back inside slowly, a whine releasing from your mouth. His hand remains on your hip while the other grabs a fistful of your hair, trailing out again before snapping in. The tip of his cock nestles so deep in you that tears dot along your bottom lashes; the feeling is so blissful and fulfilling that your emotions skyrocket.  

“Eijirou— oh, yes,” you whimper as he repeats the action, movements still paced and measured to help you adjust to his size.

“Feel good, baby? ‘Cuz this feels amazing for me— you feel amazing on me, Y/N,” he grunts, fingers gripping the skin of your hip tighter as he angles your face so he can see it with his other hand.  

“Yes, fuck yes, you feels so good,” you commend as the pace intensifies, making a moan spill out of you. He groans from behind you, letting go of your hair and placing his hand on your other hip to keep you steady. You clutch onto the top of the sofa tightly as he pounds into you, and you gasp as a hand leaves your hip for a moment and delivers a sharp smack to your ass, making your back arch into Kirishima’s grasp. You’re babbling now, your entire body thrumming with pleasure. “Oh god—ohgodohgodohgodohgod.”

Kirishima hisses as he watches the bright pink mark on your ass cheek tremble as his hips slam against yours, bottom lip tucked under his offending cuspids. He licks his lip to keep from drooling onto you, eyes trained on your perfect figure that he’s fucking into the sofa. Pleasure courses through his body, intensified at the sound and obvious proof of your own satisfaction as he thrusts into you quickly.  

“Again,” you lament softly, and if he hadn’t been a werewolf with keen hearing he wouldn’t have heard your request over the assaulting sound of your skin slapping against his. He delivers and slaps your other cheek sharply, a lustful mix between a gasp and a moan escaping you.  

“Fuck, you’re so sexy, baby,” Kirishima admires, smirking as you turn slightly to look at him. He grabs your shoulder and pulls your torso back, slamming it against his as his other hand wraps around your throat snugly to stop his innate temptation to leave his mark there. The other hand leaves your arm and instead bands around your waist, pressing you flush against him. His hips retreat and pound into you in the new position, and you rest your head back onto his shoulder since your neck is safe from his view with his large hand covering it.

You stare into each other as he continues, and you move your hips back as he moves his in, making each thrust more powerful. His lips find yours and they mould easily, your hand coming up to caress his jaw and press his face closer to yours.

“Eiji, your cock feels so good,” you pant between his kisses and potent strokes, “God, you’re so big.”

“Mmm, I love when you talk dirty to me,” Kirishima murmurs against your mouth, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face.  

It’s fucked up but his tight hold on your throat is only turning you on more, making your eyes close as each thrust feels better than the last.

“Fuck, Ei,” you groan, slouching back against his toned form as the pleasure is too great.  

“Here, baby,” he says, cock slipping out of you before picking you up, walking briskly out of the common space and into a hallway, then finally into his bedroom. He shuts the door with his foot, laying you gently onto his messy bedsheets and blankets. He rolls you over onto your stomach before he climbs on top of you, hovering above you before he slips back in with ease.  

You moan and tuck your face into the sheets that smell like him, his arms bracing on either side of your head as his forearms rest next to yours, elbows bent and fists clenched. His hips swing effortlessly into yours, making a loud, crude slapping sound echo around the room. You moan almost pathetically into the sheets, turning to lay your face to the side so Kirishima can hear your noises of pleasure. He kisses your cheek sweetly before moving to your jaw and nibbling there gently, his tempo still quick and lethal. His tip, nestled deep inside, assaults your g-spot and you purr in content at the sensation, a gasp escaping you as he plunges in a little more forcefully. His hand wraps around your throat again, lifting your head up as his lips meet yours tenderly. His tongue plays with yours gently, a stark contrast to your hips. The hold on your throat is firm but also soft, and his thumb brushes along your jawline as his fingertips push into your racing pulse.

His hand leaves you and suddenly you’re on your back, Kirishima dragging your body up the bed so your head lays on the pillows. He smiles widely before he swoops in and his lips take yours again. His cock glides right back in, and you moan loudly into the kiss as the tip brushes your g-spot at a different angle than before. Your pussy quivers around him as he picks up the pace again, one arm folding under and around your waist and the other holding your chin, elbow digging into the mattress to keep himself propped up. His kisses trail from your lips to your chin and jaw, tongue sliding out and lathering your skin gently. Your eyes open as it slides down your throat, and the slight point of his canines poke against your skin. You quickly take his head in your hands, guiding his lips back to yours.  

“Baby, I’m gonna cum,” he murmurs against your lips, eyebrows scrunched in concentration, breath heavy as his exhausted hips keep up the erratic pace against yours. He whimpers as your walls constrict around him firmly.  

“I’m close, too, Eiji,” you mumble, legs folding around his waist, your arms tangling around his torso with your hands on each shoulder blade, fingernails gripping his slick skin. One of his hands is pressed into the sheets by your shoulder, propping him up, and the other is going white on your hip from his tight hold.  

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he snarls, voice low and resonating with a growl. You watch his abdomen accordion as he flexes in and out of you with apparent effort, drops of sweat gliding down his broad chest. He throws his head back and whines as your nails dig into his strong shoulder muscles, chasing his imminent ecstasy.  

Watching his body tremble and exert itself to bring you to your euphoria pushes you toward your own climax, and the feeling of his hand on your hip and the way his lip pinches between his teeth makes your eyes roll back and your body tense as you fall off the cliff, hurtling down into the thrashing waves of your orgasm. You call his name in a strangled cry, limbs clutching onto him for dear life as the pleasure shakes through you. His hips don’t stop; plunging further into you and pushing you harder under the tides of your climax. Your body shivers and you’re so out of it you don’t notice Kirishima’s thrusts becoming volatile, his arm that had once propped his torso above yours curling beneath your back to press your torso against his.  

A growl of victory splits from deep in his throat as he approaches his own high, muscles tense in anticipation for the long-awaited prize. He shudders and suddenly his cuspids are lodged deep in your throat, and it feels like he’s just been run over by an eighteen-wheeler of ecstasy. His jaw shakes as his eyes close, abdomen convulsing as he spills deep into you in long, relentless spurts. The combination of his orgasm and his marking you almost make him pass out in an exhaustive pleasure.

Just as you’d come to from your orgasm, searing pain splices through you as Kirishima’s fangs split your skin and neck tissue, your jaw opening but no sound releasing. And just as fast as the pain had arrived, it’s replaced and you’re submerged back into the tidal waves of a new climax, making you clench and flex around Kirishima’s throbbing member that pulses into you.  

His fingers clasp the skin of your hips so strongly the skin turns white, but your own nails lodge into his shoulders to grapple him to you; the both of you holding each other as if your lives depend on it. The sheets around you are twisted and damp from your sweat, but the two of you only seem to care about each other; drifting numbly and blissfully in your shared euphoria.

After a moment Kirishima’s body sags, sliding slightly to the side of yours as his muscles stop tensing and he stops physically releasing into you. His teeth still woven deep into your neck, he doesn’t dare move his face.  

As the tides form your orgasm slowly recede, your body hums in a warm satisfaction and a certain numbness. Your hands rove over Kirishima’s expansive back soothingly, and he exhales with a content but tired moan in response.  

Very timidly, Kirishima stretches his jaw to the maximum before he pulls away from your neck, leaving your head buzzing lightly. He licks the puncture wounds instantly, enzymes in his saliva helping to start the healing process while he cleans away the scarlet blood that beads there. He ghosts a kiss over your jaw before he pulls away, smiling warily as his eyes meet yours.  

The primal amber and yellow shades are gone, leaving behind the warm red you’d fallen in love with. They cast over your face in total adoration, with a hint of fear.  

He looks away as he slides out of you, his release immediately following and forming a wet puddle on his sheets. Your cheeks flush even though it isn’t your fault, but he just smiles and presses a kiss to one of them as if silencing your unnecessary embarrassment.  

Kirishima reclines next to you, pulling the blanket at the foot of the mattress up to rest on top of the two of you. He collects you into his arms, your body weak and unprotesting. His legs entwine with yours, pressing every piece of skin he can to yours. He makes sure to be careful with your neck, kissing it gently once more before settling his face next to yours. The kiss makes the skin tingle and heat, a fuzzy warmth flooding your body as you smile shyly.  

“I told you not to let me get near your neck,” Kirishima says softly as your eyes close, eyelashes brushing over his collarbone. “Do you know what this means, Y/N?” He tries again at your silence, thinking you don’t understand the severity of the situation. His fingertips run up and down your naked spine relaxingly.  

“It means you need to work on your self-control,” you murmur, giggling quietly into his chest.

“Y/N, this isn’t a joke,” he says lowly, “I don’t kno-“

You cut him off. “It isn’t a joke, I know, Eijirou. It means we’re tied together, forever— meaning we, this, us— we’re permanent. We’re wolf-married or whatever the term is now, I know. You can never love another person again, and neither can I,” your hand rests on his pectoral, a finger tracing along his nipple so you have something to look at instead of his face. “If you can’t deal with that, I’m sorry, but I can. I’m yours, Kirishima, always have been, always will be. If you don’t want that, then I’m sorry but you just sealed your fate with mine and there’s nothing I can do about that.”

“Oh,” Kirishima exhales, blinking. The only light in the room is from the window above the desk, moonlight casting the bed in a dim white light. He shuffles, pulling your body closer to his, smiling into your hair with a stupidly happy grin. “I just wanted to make sure that’s what you want. I.. uh, I feel the same,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear giddily.  

“Good,” you reply, eyes closing as you nuzzle your face closer to his warm heart.

It’s silent for a moment before Kirishima clears his throat gently. You peek one eye open, awaiting his words.

“Um… I love you, Y/N… a lot,” he says rather nervously, gulping softly as he pauses for a response.

“I love you too, Eiji,” you kiss his chest gently, sighing contently.

“And, uh, Y/N?”  

“What, Eiji?”

“I’m glad it’s you who I’m wolf-married to.”

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

.

.

when he go from wolf to puppy 🥺 thank you for reading babies <3 & pls don’t be shy to let me know if you enjoyed!! 

➥ masterlist 

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[straykidsreactions]

Reaction To: NCT Dream Flirting With Their S/O

STRAY KIDS REACTION TO : You, their significant other, being hit on backstage by a member of NCT Dream.

A/N: This was a popular request! Sorry for the delay, hopefully this makes up for it, (I added gifs for skz and dream bc yall deserve it) also I had to use 1 dream member twice so I picked Jeno bc that’s who was mentioned in the request      (+ he’s my dream bias oops)

Genre: jealous/possessive!skz ( I wouldn't call it angst, it's cute I promise )

Chan:

When you'd agreed to accompany Chan to the award show and watch his performance live from backstage he'd been so excited and filled with pride.Taking you anywhere, especially when he'd be performing, gave him a huge boost of confidence- so knowing that you'd be right there by his side cheering him on from backstage made the whole evening more enjoyable for him. He had to admit there was also a small part of him that felt pretty cool introducing you to other idol friends of his after the show- since your relationship wasn't public amongst the fans and idol industry it always took people by surprise to see the two of you together and so comfortable with one another.While generally liked that your relationship was private and low-key,there were definitely times when the unspoken status of your dating life would drive him absolutely insane.That, when other guys tried to flirt with you. 

In a way he could understand it, you had an infectious personality and you certainly were stunning, especially all dressed up for the award show you looked like you belonged on a runway, but that didn't change the fact that Chan's blood would begin to boil whenever he noticed someone being a little too friendly towards you.

When Chan originally noticed you in the hallway outside Stray Kid's designated backstage room having a casual conversation with a few idols he'd felt an immense sense of pride, not wanting to interrupt your conversation he'd leave you to make new friends on your own .It wouldn't be until a handful of minutes later, just before they were getting ready to take the stage, that he noticed the other idols surrounding you had now disappeared- and you were alone with none other than Mark Lee.Mark was a generally sweet and personable guy and, though Chan wasn't particularly close with the younger man, he'd heard only positive things about him.

At a glance the conversation seemed simple enough, but just as Chan was about to call you over he noticed Mark's arm press against the wall behind him,leaning over you slightly as he laughed and adjusted his mic set- clearly having just finished his stage performance with the rest of NCT. Chan's jaw would tighten; on one hand as the eldest and the leader he has a responsibility to be diplomatic and polite to other people in the industry, but on the other hand Mark's body was hovering a little too close to yours and your demeanor had quickly shifted into one of slight discomfort.Before could overthink his decision, Chan had calmly walked up beside the two of you, placing a firm hand on Mark's shoulder and easily pulling him away to create distance between him and you .Sliding his hand around your waist, he'd give Mark a small smile that let him know he was anything but pleased to see him.

“Ahh, it's Mark, right? I'm Chan, I don't think we've formally met before.” 

*extending his free hand for mark to shake, which he reluctantly did- looking between the two of you in slight confusion*

“Uhh, y-yeah it's nice to meet you too, man.”

“Hyung.”

*Chan retorted coolly, correcting the younger idol who was already slightly flustered that he'd clearly misread the situation*

“Uh, oh sorry- Hyung. Uhm, sorry...are the two of you-?”

*Chan's gaze never wavering from Mark's as he nodded, looking over at you and flashing you a cheeky smile that let you know he had everything under control*

“Oh, my bad mate, I didn't properly introduce you- this is my ( girlfriend/ boyfriend ), Y/N. ( She/He ) was just going though, isn't that right love? Our performance is about to start, you wouldn't wanna miss it, hmm?”

Bonus gif, Mark:

Minho:

When you'd agreed to go with him and the other members to the award show, he'd honestly hadn't even thought twice about the possibility of other idols coming up to you.It wasn't that he'd never seen someone hit on you before, but it had never happened with a fellow idol and Minho had assumed that because you'd arrived together everyone would've known that you were clearly together.His thoughts were clearly mistaken, however, when he saw Renjun approach you backstage. 

Out of all the members, Minho is easily one of the most confrontational and because of this there was very little doubt in his mind when it came to handling situations like this in an upfront manner.He becomes possessive over you quickly, even between his other members there are times when he'd feel the need to pull you away and keep you to himself (though he was usually able to restrain himself on those occasions because he fully trusted his members not to step out of line).When it came to other guys outside of his close group of friends, however, there was absolutely no way that Minho would hold back.So when he saw Renjun talking to you alone, smiling at you sweetly as he asked you for help touching up his makeup, Minho's entire body would grow tense. 

*walking over to wear you were standing, reluctantly adding a facial jewel to the stranger's cheek as he tried to make conversation*

“Baby, that's enough. Why don't you head back to our dressing room- I'll be there in a few minutes.”

His voice was stern and unwavering as you quickly stood, giving him a look that warned him not to go overboard on the man who had clearly been trying his luck with you.Minho patted your head reassuringly before gesturing for you to leave, to which you obliged.Once you were out of sight, he turned his attention back to the man in front of him, who's expression was nothing short of utter confusion.

“Hyung, II don't think that's really an appropriate way to talk to a stylist.”

*Minho scoffed lowly, willing to play along for a minute as he gestured in your direction*

"Who, Y/N?"

*watching at the younger man nodded, running a hand through his hair*

“Mhm. I get it though, ( she's/he’s ) pretty...did Y/N do your makeup too?”

*Minho's eyes darkened slightly at this as he took a step closer to the younger man, who at this point was getting a strong feeling that he was missing something*

“Since you're slow, I'll spell it out for you- Y/N isn't my stylist, ( she's/he’s ) my date. So I'd appreciate it if you didn't make comments about ( her/ his ) appearance. Actually, I'd rather not see you around Y/N again unless ( she/he ) wants you there.”

*pausing as he watched Renjun's face become cautious, leaning in slightly to finish the conversation in a low voice before heading back towards the dressing room*

“Let's not have this conversation again, ok?”

Bonus gif, Renjun:

Changbin:

While Changbin was usually the first to invite you to music video shoots, livestage tapings and plenty of other events, he wasn’t a big fan of bringing you along to award shows- for exactly this reason. There were so many idols in close quarters for the entire night, many of whom he didn’t fully trust around you considering the two of you weren’t publicly out as a couple. As long as you were with him and his members he was fine, but he’d be quickly grow tense and become on edge whenever you were out of his sight, and when him and the other members had to.get ready for their performance it wasn’t hard to tell that he wasn’t fully comfortable leaving you alone. Of course you tried to assure him that you were fine, but he also knew you didn’t always have the best gauge for knowing when people were flirting with you. 

For the most part no issues arose, that is, until all of you were moved into the large waiting room for upcoming performers. Several groups of idols were finishing up last minute practices and mingling with one another before their respective performances- Changbin had opted for sitting down and quickly going over the difficult lyrics for his part in the new song they were going to perform. You hadn’t wanted to disturb him or the other guys while they prepped for their performance, so you’d quietly placed yourself in the corner to take in your surroundings- but it didn’t take long for a certain somebody to take an interest in you and Changbin could tell.

The instant he noticed Donghyuck walk up to you he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t just to say ‘hello’. He had a reputation for being harmlessly flirty, and though Changbin isn’t the type to get up and step in over-protectively he’d certainly hoped that you would leave the stranger and come sit beside him instead. Mostly he’d just become frustrated, completely unable to focus on his lyric sheet as his eyes kept drifting upward to watch as Donghyuck laughed at something funny you’d said, slowly edging himself closer to you- something you hadn’t yet picked up on. In all honesty he’d probably observe the situation from a distance for a while, letting his frustrations build the longer Donghyuck monopolized your time. Changbin might talk a big game and have the on-stage persona of a tough and confrontational guy- but when it comes to your relationship he’s actually very soft and mild mannered so getting him to the point where he’d say something in a bothersome situation took a lot. That being said, after 15+ minutes of watching his dongsaeng flirt with you- he’d had enough. He wasn’t one for a lot of words, you knew the tones of his voice well enough to understand that when he spoke it was something important.

*clearly his throat as the looked up from his paper, having a better view of the two of you now that the room had emptied some*

“Yah, baby, come over here and sit with your boyfriend, ok?”

*not waiting for you to respond before dropping his gaze back to his lyric sheet, preserving the face of an unbothered man despite his inner feelings*

“I don’t like you talking to strangers.”

Bonus gif, Donghyuck: 

Hyunjin: 

As shy as Hyunjin can be sometimes when it comes to be complimented himself, there’s definitely a part of him that loves showing you off and receiving compliments from others on how good the two of you look together. He takes a lot of pride in you, so when he’d invited you to come with him and the members to the upcoming award show there hadn’t been a shadow of a doubt in his mind. He loved the way you were dressed to the 9′s just to watch their rehearsal and performances from backstage, so much so that he insisted you come out into the mostly empty arena to watch them do soundcheck before they went into hair and makeup to prepare for the show. There were only a few other groups there that early to do soundcheck and no media had arrived yet, so he felt comfortable bringing you out, knowing that it gave him a boost of confidence to make eye contact with you while he practiced. What didn’t boost his confidence, however, was glancing over into the rows of mostly empty seats to see that you were no longer alone- someone had approached you and was sitting a little too close for Hyunjin’s liking.

Hyunjin didn’t know Jaemin well, they’d only met in passing at a few other shows, but it wasn’t hard to tell that his outwardly charismatic personality and flirtacious attitude were translating into his conversation with you. Your boyfriend wasn’t one to stop group practice in the middle of a routine, he’d continue with the choreography but his eyes would never leave you as he watched the NCT member shamelessly flirt with you- though perhaps it wasn’t entirely his fault since you and Hyunjin weren’t publicly dating. It wouldn’t take long for the other members to catch on to the fact that you’d been semi-cornered by the overly-friendly idol, unsure of what you were supposed to do. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy meeting new people, but you couldn’t be sure if he was just an overly-friendly person or if he was genuinely flirting- and Hyunjin was clearly not happy about it. He watched from the stage, putting his hands on his hips as the other members gave him a look of confusion. Hyunjin wouldn’t say anything in the moment, he knew Jaemin was harmless but it didn’t mean he was comfortable with the situation- it was more the fact that he didn’t want to embarrass you or make you feel as though he was being too over-protective. In the moment he’d try to shake his frustrated feelings- but he’d only truly feel comfortable after you’d excused yourself from the conversation with Jaemin, quickly walking up to your boyfriend and cutely wrapping your arms around him as you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

*blushing profusely as a wide grin spread across his face*

“What was that for, Jagi?”

*smiling sweetly as you let go of him, making your way back towards the viewing room backstage to let him finish practicing*

“Just because...Hyunjinnie?”

*smiling as he put his arms on his hips, noticing Jaemin’s confused look out of the corner of his gaze as he watched your interactions with Hyunjin from a distance- clearly beginning to connect the dots*

“Hmm?”

*blowing him a reassuring kiss to make sure he knew that you were his and his alone*

“I love you! Fighting!”

Bonus gif, Jaemin: 

Jisung:

Jisung is easily one of the more possessive members of the group, his general demeanor is of course very sociable and sweet but there are certain things that set this boy off and because he has a little bit of a hot temper he wouldn’t always be the best at keeping those possessive feelings at bay. 

He’d had a few reservations about inviting you to the award show, he loves when you come and support him at events and knowing that you’re by his side gives him endless confidence, but he didn’t like exposing you to any kind of potential harm or unwanted attention- whether that be from publicity or other guys. Nevertheless, your excitement regarding the upcoming show and his love for seeing you by his side won over and in the end he’d happily invited you to join him and the other members. The first half of the evening had been everything he’d hoped for- you watched them rehearse and kept him company through hair and makeup- you’d even met a few other idols who had been so friendly and understanding when it came to keeping your relationship with Jisung low-profile. The issue arose when Jisung and the other members stepped into another room to take some promotional photos, leaving you alone backstage amidst a hoard of strangers and celebrities who you didn’t know all that well. 

it wasn’t that you minded, you were perfectly content to find a comfortable seat out of the way and just observe, but Jisung would be a little on edge from the moment he let you out of his sight. This was his world, he was used to how things worked here, but you weren’t and that alone was enough to worry him. 

He’d only been gone from the backstage room where you were seated around 15 minutes when he came back to grab his phone, but it didn’t take him long to spot you- or the person who was talking to you a little too closely. 

He hadn’t noticed the members of NCT Dream when he’d left earlier, but they were all there going through hair and makeup now and it wasn’t hard to tell that one of them had taken a particular interest in you- Jeno. He was sitting beside you, having what could’ve been a perfectly normal conversation- but Jisung knew better than that. Though he wasn’t particularly close with Jeno, it wasn’t hard to tell by his body language that he was a little too interested in you. The way he leaned closer every time you spoke and laughed so effortlessly at the things you said would make Jisung furious, his usual effortlessly fun-loving persona completely gone as he walked towards you without hesitation. Unlike some of the other members, Jisung wasn’t the kind to hesitate, even if it was slightly rash. You hadn’t spotted him until he was directly in front of you, but once your gaze found his it didn’t take you long to realize that he was angry.

*giving the two of you a stern look as Jeno smiled up at your boyfriend from his seated position*

“Hey man, you’re Han Jisung, right? I’m Lee Jeno, from Dream..it’s nice to meet you.”

*Jisung’s firm gaze never wavering as he rejected Jeno’s extended hand, instead helping you up from the sofa and guiding you to stand beside him*

“Were you hitting on my (girlfriend/boyfriend)?”

*his straightforward question took the other man by surprise, giving him a confused look before his gaze fell on you and your cautious face as you glanced between the two of them*

“Oh, I- you mean Y/N? I didn’t realize you two were dating.”

*glancing between you and Jisung with a slight smile*

Maybe it was the fact that it had been a long night and he was tired, maybe it was the fact that he’d just seen one too many guys hit on you under the assumption that you were single, but whatever it was Jisung was suddenly very over the entire “low-profile relationship” situation. Scoffing lowly under his breath, he picked up his phone from out of his nearby bag, opening Instagram and pulling up a photo the two of you had taken on a recent date night. You were both dressed well, standing outside near a cherry blossom tree with his arm around your waist as you stared at each other lovingly. Your face was mostly covered by a mask and your boyfriend’s baseball cap so people would have a difficult time discovering your identity, but the message was clear- Han Jisung was in a relationship. Without much more thought, he added a straight forward and to-the-point caption, “Happy With You.❤️” before quickly uploading the photo to their official Stray Kids instagram account. Your eyes widened in shock as you gave him a worried look, knowing that the post would inevitably cause some backlash for him at the company. Without hesitation, Jisung leaned over towards Jeno who was still looking slightly confused, showing him the uploaded photo. 

*tilting his head slightly and giving him the same unwavering stern glare as Jeno’s face fell slightly into shock at the bold move*

“Well it’s official now, got that? So I wouldn’t get involved with (her/him) unless you’re ready for one hell of a scandal.”

Bonus gif, Jeno:

Felix: jeno

Felix loves, and I mean loves, bringing you along to events, concerts and award shows. If he was performing- hell even if he was just going to practice at the studio, he wanted you to be there. Obviously you couldn’t come to every single practice and performance because you were busy yourself- but you did your best to be there for the big moments, and this award show was one of them. Not only were Stray Kids performing their latest comeback, they were also up for a couple big awards this year- and more than anything he wanted you to be by his side. 

As far as jealousy goes, Felix isn’t one to get possessive and upset over the little things. He wouldn’t say something unless he felt like he needed to, but he also has an innate inability to hide his emotions. If he was hurt or frustrated, it was apparent on his face. That being said, he’d honestly never expected to leave you alone that night in the first place. Aside from the actual performance and award ceremony where you’d watch from the viewing room with the other idol’s guests, Felix hadn’t planned on leaving you alone backstage with a sea of strangers. It wasn’t until their manager announced that they’d been asked to do some additional promotional recordings prior to the show that Felix realized you’d have to wait backstage on your own. It put him on edge a bit, but another idol hitting on you wasn’t his main concern- more than anything he just felt bad for leaving you alone when you didn’t know many people around. Nevertheless, you assured him that you’d be fine and reluctantly he left you backstage- swearing that he’d try to finish as quickly as possible. 

He’d only been gone around 20 minutes, but he still made a point to get back to you as quickly as possible. It wouldn’t take him long to find you and when he first noticed a couple other idols talking with you he’d feel excited and proud to see you making friends so easily- that is until he saw the person standing closest to you, handing you a bottle of water and making comments on how cute you looked. He knew he shouldn’t let it get to him, of course it was possible the NCT Dream member was being nothing more than polite, but something inside him didn’t like the way he was smiling at you and it must’ve been obvious in the way his generally happy and loving expression shifted into something darker. The other idols who were talking with you had excused themselves at this point, leaving only you and Jeno who didn’t seem to have any intention of leaving your side- that is until Felix walked up to you, doing his absolute best to keep his breathing steady and voice calm. 

*Jeno smiling at him cluelessly, giving him a nod of introduction*

“Oh, hey man how are you? I’m Jeno, I don’t think we’ve met before- oh! And this is (Y/N)-”

*scoffing slightly as his patience began to wear thin, glancing in your direction as you gave him an apologetic frown*

“I know who (she/he) is..but yeah, um..it’s nice to meet you- I’m Felix.”

His deep voice felt calming, even when he himself was anything but relaxed. He shook Jeno’s hand begrudgingly, giving him a small smile as his gaze never wavered from you. 

“Oh really? Don’t tell me you came over here to ask (her/him) out too! Wahh, you must be so popular tonight, (Y/N)...”

*Jeno laughing playfully as he teased you, your face going flustered and eyes widening at his bold statement, your shock nothing in comparison to the look of absolute rage in Felix’s eyes as he scrunched his eyebrows momentarily, trying to maintain composure*

“Nah, actually I came over here to get my (girlfriend/boyfriend)...Jagi?”

*turning to you with the slightest hint of a smirk playing on his lips as you blushed, not daring to glance in Jeno’s direction as his face fell into slight shock and embarrassment*

“We should get going now, it was nice to meet you though.”

*taking your hand in his and effortlessly guiding you out of the room*

Bonus gif, Jeno: 

Seungmin:

Some people would find it slightly odd how close the two of you were, because despite being in a relationship with Seungmin the two of you were also like best friends. You shared everything with each other and though your relationship was, of course, different from the kind of friendships he had with his members, he’d worked hard to make you feel as close and comfortable as possible. In all honesty he got a little nervous performing in front of you, mostly because he felt an added pressure to do well and show you his best side- but it fueled him to do better on stage so he was happy to hear that you’d agreed to accompany him and the other members to the upcoming award show. 

Seungmin isn’t naturally an overly jealous person, if instances did arise where someone was flirting with you it’d certainly bother him- but he isn’t one to step in unless he feels like it’s absolutely necessary. He trusted you and didn’t want to make a situation confrontational if it didn’t need to be, but he wouldn’t mind saying something if he thought you were at all uncomfortable. 

The guys had just finished going through hair and makeup, where you spent the majority of the time talking with your boyfriend, and they were getting ready to do a last minute sound check before getting ready for their performance. He didn’t think it’d be a big deal to leave you backstage for half an hour or so, flashing you his signature smile and giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before letting you know that he’d be back soon and to make yourself comfortable. He’d suggested you get a bite to eat from the food stations backstage, but after he’d left you quickly realized you had no idea where any of that was located. After searching and maneuvering through the crowded and hectic backstage green rooms for what seemed like an eternity, not only were you discouraged and hungry- you were a little bit lost. Stray Kids’ designated room was no where in sight- and at this point you were wandering aimlessly. Aimlessly, that is, until a helpful stranger approached you with a smile and a sandwich in hand. 

Seungmin did his best to get back to the dressing room as quickly as possible after finishing sound check, eager to see you again and tell you about all the funny little mishaps that had happened since he’d last seen you- but he’d quickly realize you were nowhere to be found. He tried calling you, but after getting your voicemail a couple times he started to grow concerned. It wasn’t until he’d been looking around for a few minutes that he happened to find you near the sandwich station talking to someone. Not just someone- another idol. 

You couldn’t be sure if Chenle had just happened to have a sandwich in hand when he found you or if he’d noticed you earlier searching for something to eat, but he was quick to offer you the packaged snack which you had politely accepted- striking up a conversation about the event. You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been talking, but after a while you’d noticed your boyfriend out of the corner of your eye- and he didn’t seem pleased. 

Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t answerd his calls, a mixture of worry and sudden frustration seeing that you were perfectly fine and otherwise engaged in a conversation with NCT Dream’s Chenle, but Seungmin could feel the annoyance bubbling inside him. Walking over to the two of you, he politely introduced himself to Chenle, before turning his attention back towards you. 

“(Y/N), we should get going, our performance is coming up soon, ok?”

*nodding as you turned towards the man you’d just met, preparing to say goodbye and thank him for the food*

“It was nice meeting you! Thanks again for the sandwich.”

*smiling cheekily as he nodded, waving in your direction*

“It was nice meeting you too, and hey- if you’re free after the show, call me.”

*smirking as he pointed towards the wrapper of the sandwich, before turning and walking away*

A confused look was exchanged between you and Seungmin as you glanced at the underside of the wrapper, noticing that he’d written his phone number in small, neat handwriting. Seungmin just rolled his eyes, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek in frustration to keep himself from calling out to the other man who was already walking away. Instead, he’d take the sandwich wrapper from your hands, balling it up and throwing it in the nearest garbage can before turning to you with his usual smiling face. You could tell he was frustrated, but he wasn’t going to let it bother him. 

*taking your hand in his and pulling you closer to him as he smiled at you sweetly*

“You ok, baby? Did you get lost?”

*nodding as you blushed, feeling apologetic for making him frustrated even if it wasn’t your doing*

“I’m glad I found you, should we head back now? I wouldn’t want my pretty (girlfriend/boyfriend) to miss our big performance.”

Bonus gif, Chenle: 

Jeongin: 

Jeongin would easily be the most giddy and excited to hear that you’d agreed to come to the award show- having you by his side would make him light up like nothing else and knowing that you’d be cheering him and his members on from backstage would make him fill with pride and confidence. He knew it was difficult for the two of you sometimes since your relationship wasn’t out in the open, but for the most part the two of you kept to yourselves and there weren’t too many instances that either of you had experienced firsthand of another person coming up to you and shamelessly flirting. You spent so much of your time together that he wouldn’t really know how to react- Jeongin is generally a very lighthearted and goofy person, but he also has a habit for letting his quippy comments and fiery attitude shine when something is comical or annoying to him. That being said, he isn’t a terribly possessive person, but he doesn’t mind a little confrontation if he feels like it’s necessary. 

You’d been at the award show venue for a while at this point, watching as more and more famous groups were guided through the backstage area into various dressing rooms while you stayed beside Jeongin before he had to go through hair and makeup. A few other idol groups were mingling about and a few had started conversing around a fairly empty lounge space with a few of the other members of Stray Kids. Jeongin had walked over to take a seat beside his hyungs and introduce himself to several other idols talking with them, and though he’d encouraged you to come with him you felt a little awkward butting into the conversation so you chose to stay seated a little ways a way- not wanting to encroach on his time with other friends and colleagues. It wasn’t until a handful of minutes later that you got a text from your boyfriend, asking if you could bring him a coffee. You smiled, knowing it was just a small excuse to bring you over to where he was sitting, but happily taking the bait nevertheless as you rolled your eyes teasingly in his direction. 

You brought over a few cups of coffee, not wanting to look conspicuous by only bringing one, handing them to the other members of stray kids who gave you a questioning but grateful look. You were just about to step away when another voice from the group stopped you.

“Wahh, you’re so helpful- would it be alright if I got a coffee as well? Only if it isn’t too much trouble.”

You turned towards the voice, recognizing it as Jisung from NCT Dream, who was among the idols sitting and talking with one another casually. While it hadn’t been your intention to come across as an assistant, you had to give him credit for asking so politely- so you just smiled in return. 

“Actually (Y/N)’s not-”

“Sure, of course. What would you like?”

Jeongin gave you a confused look, but you silently reassured him that it was ok. Neither of you wanted to come out as being in a relationship, and it was just a simple coffee. Jisung kindly asked you for an Americano and thanked you despite being clueless to the fact that assisting idols backstage was, in fact, not your job. This alone was enough to put Jeongin on edge, of course he knew Jisung didn’t know better, but he still didn’t like the idea of you fetching things for people you weren’t even friends with. He didn’t plan on saying anything, though, since he knew you were only putting up with it to save your relationship’s private image. 

You returned with the coffee, smiling softly as you handed it to the stylish and beaming Dream member. You were just about to walk away, however, when he did something that took you by surprise. Without a second thought, Jisung lightly took your wrist in his hand, smiling as you turned to face him and patting the seat beside him with his free hand. 

“No, please! Have a seat!” You glanced cautiously towards Jeongin who’s face was blank, but he didn’t say anything so reluctantly you sat beside the perfect stranger. 

“So your name’s (Y/N), is that right?”

*nodding as you asked for his name, to which he introduced himself*

“I’m sorry if I startled you- I just thought maybe it’d be nice to sit down, I’m sure you’re very busy...”

*laughing slightly as you tried to find a way to explain that you weren’t an assistant, without outing yourself as being in a relationship with Jeongin*

“Uhm, well actually-”

“Are you a model by chance?”

*your eyes widening as you gave him a confused look*

“W-why do you ask that?”

*Jeongin’s face growing stern as he listened intently to your side conversation with the overly friendly man beside you*

“I just, I’ve never seen anyone with your kind of beauty before...I like it.”

Jeongin’s face quickly went from intent listening to one of extreme confusion as his brows raised and head tilted, giving the man a look of obvious judgement and disapproval. Before you had a chance to respond to the forward compliment, however, Jeongin was quick to speak up. 

“Are you serious?”

*Jisung turning towards him with a look of slight perplexity as why he’d been listening in on your conversation*

“Oh, um- sorry I was just-”

*Jisung’s cheeks growing flushed as Jeongin laughed slightly, trying his best to hold back from sharing anything regarding your relationship while still telling him off for flirting with you*

“Yah, don’t be so cringey- you don’t even know (her/him)! And...don’t ask strangers to get you coffee, ok? (She/He) isn’t your assistant.”

Bonus gif, Jisung: 

[the-edge-of-great]

this is for @jatpdaily‘s JATP Secret Santa 2020!! my giftee is @agentsofoakenshiield, and i present to you: a modern royalty AU in two parts (bc it kinda got long lol) hope you enjoy!! :)

summary:

Their countries could not have created a worse pair than Julie Molina, princess of Seneca, and Alexander Mercer, prince of Koray. Romantically, of course. Really, they're the best of friends, but there’s just some minor problems: Alex is gay, and Julie’s in love with someone else.

There's an event on Friday, Julie's last before she turns eighteen. Before everything changes—her bond with Alex, her relationship with Luke, her friend group altogether. She and Alex need to figure out a way to change their countries' agreement with their limited power.

With Luke and Reggie, obligated to attend the party by law—and moral support, of course—and Professional Party Crashers Flynn and Willie by their sides, they might just pull it off.

WEDNESDAY

JULIE

A greenhouse sits at the edge of the palace, shrouded in a mess of greenery and blooming wildflowers. It’s not far at all from the castle—actually, they can see the watchtowers from its own peak—but the barrier of trees looming over the forgotten building is a portal into another world, one of flourishing life beyond what they’re taught within the castle walls. The air is softer on the other side. Everything is quieter—she feels she can speak and actually be heard. When the gravel crunching beneath their shoes silences to soft thuds across the grass, a grin breaks free, and she runs.

Her shoes are off in seconds, kicked to the side as quick as she can. She misses the earth beneath her feet, soft blades of grass tickling between her toes. She’s been here enough to know where to step and what to hop over—besides, the glass shards shimmer in the sunlight anyway. Behind her is a yell, then a laugh, then they’re chasing after her, boots stomping in her haste, trying to reach the greenhouse first.

Reggie and Flynn rush past on either side, and once they reunite in front, Flynn leaps onto Reggie’s back. Reggie shouts, stumbling and regaining his balance all in two steps. Flynn leans forward, an arm stretched out, desperately trying to brush the edge of the door to claim victory.

Julie never sees who actually makes it because arms hook around her waist, hugging her close to someone who, quite literally, sweeps her off her feet. She leans into him, head resting on his shoulder as she laughs out loud. He spins her once before putting her down, chuckling in her ear, leaving a trail of kisses across her cheek. Once she’s on her feet, she hugs him. He’s a difficult person to wrap her arms around with the armor and all, but she makes it work—especially because in an hour, she’s going to have every layer stripped away until it’s just him: regular Luke. Her Luke.

The last of their group—the reason they’ve even reunited in the first place—are slow to arrive, valuing their time in every step, every lingering gaze and smile. The corners of Julie’s mouth curl for them: Willie is always his happiest when he’s with Alex. Even more so when they can come out here, away from the world and Alex’s impending reality inching closer each day. He and Julie have agreed: they won’t talk about it unless their friends bring it up first. And even then, maybe not.

Julie takes Luke’s hand in hers and tugs him inside. It’s kind of funny how willingly he follows her, he and Reggie immediately abandoning their jobs for some friends and a building. But they’re leaving Alex with Willie, and that’s possibly the safest place in the world.

The greenhouse doesn’t have a known story, just that it’s theirs and theirs alone. It’s overgrown with thorns they admire from afar and vines curling around the spiral staircase in the center of the room. There are steps missing in places and others threatening to fall away with one wrong move. Luke and Reggie, the literal guards of their group, always watch with bated breath and tense shoulders, swearing quietly when the staircase creaks and groans under their weight. Julie and Flynn think the danger makes it more exciting.

Flynn’s already on it, sitting halfway up with her legs dangling over the side. Reggie’s beneath her, kicking away broken glass as he tries to catch a frog leaping across the floor. Julie brushes dirt off of a counter before hopping on it, and as soon as she’s seated, Luke is there, pulling her into that kiss she’s been craving since they arrived.

“Are you guys going to the dance on Friday?” Flynn asks Reggie, curling a hand around the rail as she leans back to look down at him.

“Probably.” Reggie pauses near the back wall, rocking on his heels, eyeing the brown frog resting innocently on a pile of leaves. “If we’re invited.”

“Why wouldn’t we be invited?” Luke asks, climbing on the table next to Julie. “Seneca’s going.”

Julie chuckles. “Of course we’re going. Everyone loves Seneca.”

He smirks. “Yeah,” he says, already going in for another kiss, “who can blame them?”

“Are you guys talking about the event on Friday?” Alex asks, shutting the door behind Willie. “We’re going.”

Reggie cheers. Luke corrects him quickly, “We’re going to be working, Reg.” He throws a look at Alex. “No fun for us.”

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not the one who signed up to be palace guards.”

“I don’t remember signing up either?” Reggie says. “I think we just hung out with you so much that they gave us swords eventually.” He lunges for the frog, arms outstretched, hands ready to grab, and then it leaps just out of reach. He catches himself on the wall, muttering a “Damn it” under his breath.

Alex laughs. Luke shakes his head. “That’s not how it happened,” he mumbles, sharing an amused look with Alex.

“Sounds kind of legit for you three,” Julie teases.

“I think it’d sound more believable if they took the swords themselves,” Alex argues.

Julei grins. “Maybe we should send that to the tabloids. Get them talking about something else.”

Alex breathes a laugh, giving her a look as he passes, transferring silent messages that only she could understand. Her smile falters only a little. They don’t talk about it.

“So, back to the dance,” Flynn says, kicking her feet.

“Is, um…” Reggie leans against the staircase, gaze jumping between his friends. “Is something going to happen at this one?”

Alex pauses. Julie frowns. “What do you mean?” she asks.

Flynn’s shoulders slump. “This is your last event before you turn eighteen, Jules.”

Oh right, Eighteen is a big deal in their world. Eighteen means permission granted to thrust her headfirst into the political world of the monarchy. Eighteen means the beginning of preparations for Twenty-One, when she’ll become queen. And, worst of all: Eighteen means marriage.

That Look passes between Alex and Julie again. Their smiles are gone; they have to talk about it.

“I don’t know of anything, but…” Alex wrings his hands. “Maybe.” “This is so unfair,” Flynn complains. “It’s the twenty-first century! Why are arranged marriages still a thing?”

“Because monarchies are still a thing, I guess,” Julie mutters.

Their countries could not have created a worse pair than Julie Molina, princess of Seneca, and Alexander Mercer, prince of Koray. Their relationship is strong—they really, truly care for each other a lot—but there’s just some minor problems: Alex is gay, and Julie’s in love with someone else. They’ve known about the arrangement since they were children of course, and their friends just a few years after, but their predicament has never felt as set in stone as this day and the next, the true Final Countdown.

“I don’t see why the countries have to be bound by marriage,” Luke says. “I mean, this—” He gestures around the group— “what we have right here, is stronger on its own than any arranged commitment between Seneca and Koray could be.”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to convince our parents of,” Julie says. “It’s more official than an agreement from when we were babies, though. It’s a whole peace treaty.”

Willie frowns. “Then make a new peace treaty.”

“We totally would…” Alex agrees. “If either of us had any actual power yet.”

“Can’t you just fake it until you’re crowned, and then change the rules?” Flynn asks.

Alex shakes his head. “We don’t know what effect breaking that kind of agreement would have on our countries.”

“Besides,” Julie adds softly, reaching for Luke’s hand, “faking it feels wrong. I don’t know if I could do it.”

“But hey, we still have a few days until anything happens,” Alex reminds. “We’ll figure something out. For now, can we just enjoy this time together?”

Although the air is stiffer now than before, their afternoon is still well spent in good spirits. They stay out there all day, only returning to the palace when the sun is setting over the horizon. Their stomachs are growling monsters by then. Somewhere along the way to the castle, they get separated. Purposely, and not very far apart—because if Alex’s parents catch him arriving without Luke and Reggie, there will surely be hell to pay—but enough for Luke to pull her around a corner and kiss her in the privacy of bushery and an apple tree.

“I wish you didn’t have to go already,” she whines, raking a hand through his hair.

“Pretty sure they’re not going to send us away without food.” He chuckles. “We’re the guests, remember? Well, Alex is.”

She smacks his chest. “You are too, dummy.”

“Not as important as the prince and princess.” Luke grins, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m kidding. Kind of. I’d much rather be a guard than a royal anyway. The only thing that sucks is we won’t be able to share a dance on Friday.”

Julie frowns. “Wait, but we’ve danced together at other parties?”

“Yeah, but from what I hear, this is going to be much bigger than usual. There are gonna be nobles from other countries, so security has to  be tighter.”

“Don’t you have to stay with Alex, though?”

“We have to have eyes on him, but we aren’t allowed to mingle with the important people unless it’s an emergency.” Julie makes a noise of protest, which makes him laugh and dip his head, kissing her softly again. “Don’t worry, I’ll make damn sure we see each other before the night’s over. Or, maybe even after…”

She chuckles. “You’re really looking for a death wish, huh?”

“You know I’d give my life for you, Julie Molina.”

“That’s so cheesy.”

Luke grins. “Only the best for you, babe.”

Somewhere nearby, they hear a side door creak open. A voice rings through the air. It’s the royal seamstress, Flynn’s mother, “Flynn, where are the others? Lunch has been ready for fifteen minutes.”

“They’re on their way!” Flynn replies. “It’s a nice day; I think they just wanted to take the long way.”

Bless Flynn’s mother; she knows what’s really going on with Julie and Alex—and likely suspects where their group has scattered off to—and she never says a word. Although she’s already regarded highly in the kingdom for her talent in design, when Julie is queen, she’s going to make sure Flynn and her family receive the best treatment possible. Maybe master bedrooms on the top floor of the castle, with balcony views of the countryside.

Before they depart, Luke leaves her with a final passionate kiss. It’s the kind that pins her to the tree truck, hand pressed into her back, fingers in each other’s hair, and when they pull away, they’re breathless, his forehead resting against hers, bodies as close as possible, savoring the touch because it’s going to be a long time before this can happen again.

“Hey,” Luke whispers, pulling away enough to find her eyes. “No matter what happens, I love you, okay?” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“We’re going to figure it out,” Julie promises. “Alex and I. We’re going to figure something out.”

Luke smiles gently, halfheartedly, like he doesn’t really believe her. That’s fair; she doesn’t know if she believes it, either.

“We’d better get back.”

When he turns to leave, she catches his arm, pulling him back. With a smile—a real one that stretches her cheeks and brightens her eyes—she tells him, “I love you, too.”

Grinning, Luke pulls her along. He curls an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

When they round the corner of the shrubbery and reunite with their friends in front of the side door, they’re apart. All of them, even Willie and Alex, who are emerging from the other side of the path. They share looks with each other then fall into formation: Alex and Julie lead into the castle, Luke and Reggie follow five steps behind, and Willie and Flynn carry the end. The last two split away from the group as soon as they cross the threshold. The others don’t even look back.

Like diving headfirst into ice water, they’re back in the real world. The greenhouse is miles away.

----

THURSDAY

LUKE

The thick, century old book slamming against a chipped wooden dining table echoes in the empty armory. A cloud of dust explodes from beneath and hits Luke and Reggie square in the face. Reggie sneezes. Luke sputters, waving a hand to clear it away in vain. They should be used to it by now—this isn’t the first time they’ve been given the Book Punishment.

“You’d think General Wilson would be more creative by now,” Reggie says, flipping open the book.

“So, you’d rather be doing four hours of PT instead?” Luke asks dryly. He yawns into his hand. They overslept—again. It doesn’t happen regularly, but enough that they know this Book of Laws well enough to pass a test (which they’ll have to do that evening, and if they fail, they will get four hours of physical training).

“Hell no. I’m just saying, where’s the flavor, huh? He’s been a war general for, like, ever. Why doesn’t he make us…” Reggie waves his hand aimlessly. “Survive in the forest for two days, like that one time before we officially became guards. Remember? We just chilled by the lake and ate those berries.” He sighs. “I miss that sometimes.” “Well, maybe we can go on a camping trip after we figure out what’s gonna happen with Alex and Julie.”

Reggie perks up at the idea; he’s blind to the eye roll Luke adds at the end of his statement.

“Wonder if there’s a chapter in here about changing the rules when you’re not actually in charge,” Luke mutters, chin in his hand as he flips through the pages.

“We could always overthrow the monarchy.”

“Overthrowing the monarchy means overthrowing Alex.”

“No way. He’d be on our side.”

Luke pauses on a page describing something along the lines of rules altered by a third party. “Reggie.”

“I mean, he’d have to take out his parents somehow,” Reggie continues thoughtfully. “Which probably wouldn’t be an issue. It’s Lainey we’d have to worry about.”

“Reggie.” Luke smacks his arm. “Look!” He points to the text, looking over with an eager grin. “Think we just cracked the monarchy, dude.”

While Luke gathers the book in his arms and heads for the door, Reggie calls, “You know Wilson’s gonna kill us if he finds out we skipped out.”

“A military general versus the prince of a whole country.” Luke laughs over his shoulder. “You do the math.”

Reggie shifts his weight from one foot to another, chewing on his lip. Then, he breaks into a jog. “Wait up,” he calls. “You know I’m bad at math!”

~**~**~**~

The issue with Alex’s guards being more like brothers to him—at least according to the king and queen—is that they often act like guests in the castle instead of trained personnel.

Neither knock before barging into the conference room. Luke has tunnel vision, clutching the book tight to his side, with newfound hope in his heart. Alex needs to see what they found; nothing else matters in that moment.

Nothing except… a heated conversation between Alex and his parents that they absolutely just interrupted. Quickly, Luke hides the book behind his back. He and Reggie come to an abrupt halt just inside the doorway, heels pressed together, bodies stiff with nerves. There are rules to be followed when it comes to approaching royals—they know them well, but when it’s just them and Alex, it’s easy to forget the divide.

“You two better have a damn good reason for interrupting us,” the king growls, looking over sharply.

Luke avoids his cold glare—he doesn’t like people beneath him making eye contact. “We—” Luke begins and ends immediately, realizing he doesn’t know what to say without sounding suspicious. Or like he’s planning treason.

“Does it matter?” Alex demands, moving between them. “The conversation was pretty much over anyways, wasn’t it?”

The king takes a dangerous step forward; only Alex shuffles back. Luke glances at Reggie. His fingers twitch at his sides. This is the one thing that truly irks them both about their job: they’ve sworn to protect the prince from any threats, but the king himself? They’re powerless.

“You are still a prince,” the king reminds in a low, careful tone. “You’re not in any position to begin calling shots.”

Alex flinches under the heavy clap on his shoulder as his father exits the room, with the queen following close behind. Nobody moves until the door clicks shut, and they’re engulfed in silence.

“Alex?” Luke calls.

Hesitantly, Alex turns to them. There’s a red tint to his face and a glossy layer over his eyes that goes unmentioned. He runs a hand through his hair, short breaths racking his body.

“I was just, um…” Alex squeezes his eyes shut. “We were talking about the marriage agreement again.”

Luke nods, handing the book over to Reggie. “Hey, why don’t you take a seat?” Fingers curling under Alex’s arm, Luke guides him to an upholstered bench by the window.

“I’m fine,” Alex declares quietly as he sits down.

“Okay.” Luke nods Reggie over. “Then, listen to this: I think we found a loophole around the law. According to this, the Next In Line himself can create or alter a law as long as a member of the royal family and the High Priest bears witness.”

“But it’s a peace treaty, not a law. Seneca’s leader has to have a hand in it as well.”

“Maybe there’s a way for Julie to get around it, too,” Reggie suggests hopefully. “We can figure it out next time we’re together, but dude! We have a chance here!”

Alex pulls at his sleeves. “I don’t know, guys. You know my parents; they won’t be convinced that easily.”

“Doesn’t matter if they’re convinced.” Luke chuckles. “Even they can’t argue with the High Priest.”

“You think the High Priest would go for it?”

Reggie shrugs. “Worth a shot, man.”

Sighing deeply, Alex agrees halfheartedly, “I guess so.”

“Hey, what’s up with you?” Luke asks, nudging his arm. “You okay?”

Their relationship is odd because a guard would never be able to be so personal and informal with a royal. But it’s Luke and Alex; they’ve always been an exception, ever since they were kids when Alex invited him, a commoner he met playing near the front gates, to a sleepover in the cinema room. Ever since, they’ve been inseparable.

“I’m just a little freaked about everything, that’s all. Mom and Dad aren’t helping, either. They’ve been planning this wedding since I was five years old, which is weird.” He sniffs, looking to the side and rubbing a hand across his face. “Before I had a chance to even try liking guys or girls, they’d already made the decision for me.” Luke and Reggie share a concerned look. Alex shakes his head, laughing humorlessly as he rises to his feet. “Gladys wouldn’t approve. You know what she says, ‘There’s no room for emotions in this castle.’”

“Gladys isn’t here,” Reggie reminds softly, but firm.

“Yeah,” Luke agrees. “It’s just us.” They don’t dislike Gladys; for a noble, she’s kinder than most. For an advisor, she’s damn good at her job. One of her best attributes—according to the king, the queen, and General Wilson—is her ability to ‘shut off’ her emotions when needed. Luke doesn’t get it; how can shutting off your emotions really solve anything?

The corner of Alex’s mouth twitches into a half smile that doesn’t last more than five seconds. “Yeah, thanks guys. Um, I’ll think about what you said, but I don’t think I can talk to Julie about it before tomorrow night.”

A door swings open, silent as a mouse, but the soft creaks of the floorboards are enough to alert their ears. General Wilson steps inside; Luke and Reggie exchange nervous glances.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” General Wilson greets. His eyes drift over Alex’s shoulder for just a moment, but a single look freezes Luke to his core.

Inwardly, he groans. They’re totally spending the rest of the day flirting with death on the training grounds.

“General Wilson,” Alex responds, lifting his chin. “Can I help you?”

“Apologies, I was just looking for those two—” He swallows thickly, like whatever he’s trying to say is difficult— “star pupils. They’re missing important training.”

Alex looks over his shoulder at them; Luke and Reggie give him a toothless, sheepish smile in return. To Wilson, Alex says, “Sorry, I need them right now.”

Luke chews on his lip to keep from smirking. He loves when Alex uses his authority over the general.

“But—“ Wilson takes a breath, hooking his hands behind his back. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, tomorrow night is an important event that these two, among the rest of the guard, need to prepare for.”

“Why?” Alex frowns. “It’s just another social gathering.”

“There will be leaders from countries we’ve not interacted with face to face in years.”

“Any in particular we should be suspicious of?”

“Well no, but—“

“Then I don’t see an urgency in needing them right now.” General Wilson opens and closes his mouth. “Shut the door on your way out,” Alex adds, waving him off.

Giving Luke and Reggie a final, heated glare, he turns and marches out of the room.

Alex waits for the door to shut to sigh loudly. “Thank God,” he says, turning to his friends. “That man is terrifying.”

“He thinks the complete opposite of you,” Luke admits, grinning. “Which makes it even funnier.” Next to him, Reggie gives Alex a high five.

Their laughter is a weight lifted. Luke just hopes it’s still around after tomorrow night.

----

Part Two

[human-trash-fire]

Shot Through The Heart: Chapter 7 (part 4- Rowaelin) NSFW

First and foremost I want to apologize to all my readers for the delay. This is my 5th pass at this chapter. I lost motivation when it seemed that every time I went to write this it didn’t do the buildup justice.

A few notes going in: 

1.The total money Dorian, Asterin, and Mannon made from their game will be posted at the end of the chapter. 

2. This is the first chapter that will feature a group text, so I’ve changed the formatting on text conversations to make it slightly easier to track. That being said, we see the Group Chat from Aelin’s phone and, as you’d expect everyone has a name. Here is a list of the characters and their text names so it’s easier to understand:

- The Queen: Aelin

-Sexy Liger: Lysandra

-SINnamon Roll: Elide

-Dorian’s Dom: Manon

-Blonde Demon: Asterin

-Elsa Havilliard: Dorian

-Balto: Aedion

-Discount Deadpool: Ren

Lastly, a GIANT THANK YOU to all of you who have kept up with this story and to @starseternalnighttriumphant​ for beta reading this chapter. I hope you all enjoy <3 

(Click HERE to bring you to my masterlist if you need a refresher course on what’s happening bc I took so long to write this)

AELIN:

What the fuck is going on? Aelin thought as she reached for her mimosa, taking care to lean as far away from Rowan at her side as possible. Last night…. Last night was clearly eventful in more ways than one. She had been awake for approximately 15 minutes and wasn’t entirely sure she was sober yet, if she was being honest. The demon 3-way at the end of the table had spent the entire morning cackling like a pack of witches and, not-so-subtly marking tallies for their fucking “bets.” By Aelin’s estimation she’d made Dorian enough money over the course of their friendship to buy a fucking Lambourghini.

“Hey Rowan,” Dorian sounded mild but the smirk playing about his lips gave him away. This motherfucker. Aelin cut him a scathing look over her sunglasses.

“Sup?” He responded, while Aelin lifted her drink to her lips and started a long pull, eyes now locked on Dorian.

“I was just wondering if you enjoyed your night,” Dorian said, all to-casually. “I seemed to have lost track of you after you went out for fresh air.” Four Things happened simultaneously:

Aelin choked on her mimosa. Pale orange liquid sputtered from her lips as she fought to catch her breath.

Aedion loosed what could only be described as a growl from across the table.

Dorian and Asterin fist-bumped, without looking away from the debacle.

Manon muttered “Fucking cheaters.”

Son of a bitch.

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

He leaned forward, a sensual smirk playing at his lips. Aelin glanced down, then back up to his eyes as she moved forward, their breath mingling. One of his hands slid up to cup her cheek, while the other slid down her lower back to squeeze her ass. Aelin closed her eyes when their lips came together, but as she went to deepen the kiss a loud giggle escaped instead. Fen’s eyes snapped open and he began to pull away. 

“Oh gods, no, I’m so sorry, let’s try this again” Aelin pleaded, once again closing the distance between them. This time as their mouths opened and tongues met Fenrys began to laugh. He was laughing so hard he was shaking, and Aelin couldn’t help but join. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” He wheezed  between bouts of laughter. “Don’t get me wrong Ace, I’ve wanted to try that since I first saw you gut a guy in Assassin's Blade. And it’s not that I’m not grateful,” at this point tears were streaming down both their faces and they tried to regain their composure. “It’s just, you’re.. it’s like kissing connall! You’re way prettier, for sure, but it’s just not…” his hand waggled between the both of them. 

“Full of fireworks and shit?” Aelin supplied. 

“Exactly! And as much as I adore you, I think maybe we were just meant to be-“ 

“Friends? Oh thank gods.” Aelin breathed.  She couldn’t help but be relieved he felt the same. As much as she had grown to love him over the past few months, and didn’t want to lose his light in her life, she couldn’t help that as they kissed she found herself wishing it was a different blonde in her arms. 

“Besides, you're nearly as pretty as I am, it wouldn’t be fair to hoard all this to ourselves.” Fenrys responded with a smirk, and grabbed Aelin’s hand dragging her back down the hall and into the festivities.

When they re-entered the room, Fen’s eyes immediately landed on Asterin. She was chugging whiskey from a bottle while standing precariously atop the coffee table. “Soooo… tell me about Asterin,” he whispered in Aelin’s ear. 

She snorted, “I admire your recovery time Moonbeam. She’ll tear you to shreds. But I rather think you’d enjoy that” she said with a knowing look. “Go on,” she nodded. And with one last wink Fen sauntered over to his next conquest. 

“Hello little wolf” Asterin purred as she lowered the bottle from her lips. “Care for a body shot?” Fen’s eyes dropped to the intricate chandelier style tattoo that began somewhere beneath her breasts and spread out across her abdomen. Eyes trailing back up to meet hers, he slowly reached for the bottle in her hand. 

“Lay down,” Aelin heard him say in a commanding tone. Asterin lowered herself onto the table, eyes never leaving his. She was a predator luring it’s prey by feigning compliance. While his face remained stoic, Aelin saw his throat bob. 

“Try not to get me too messy,” Asterin purred. 

“I can’t make any promises.” 

Aelin chuckled quietly and looked away from the, frankly pornographic scene, only to find a pair of pine green eyes watching her across the room. She smiled, and grabbed a bottle of Johnny Walker off a nearby table and headed outside hips swaying.

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

“Smooth,” Gavriel muttered from somewhere amidst the chaos. Aedion was still glaring daggers, if looks could kill Aelin was sure Rowan Whitethorn would have been obliterated. Overprotective asshole. After catching her breath she snagged her phone from the pocket of her sweatshirt and fired off a text to the group chat.

The Queen: You MOTHER FUCKERS

Elsa Havilliard: ????

Blonde Demon: Problem?? 

Blonde Demon: hahahahahahah

Dorian’s Dom: fucking CHEATERS

The Queen: WHAT WAS THE BET

The Queen: I WILL PAY YOU TO END THIS 

Balto: I will burry his fucking body under the field

Balto: Ren will help

Discount Deadpool: Eh…

SINnamon Roll: Oh shut up Assryver

SINnamon Roll: Go back to eye-fucking Lys

Dorian’s Dom: LOLOLOL 

Dorian’s Dom: $40 and counting

Discount Deadpool: Elide out here snatchin’ wigs

Sexy Liger: Fuck. You. All. Stop making brunch WORSE. 

Sexy Liger: And no one is “eye fucking” anyone

SINnamon Roll: IDK what you’re talking about, this is the best fucking brunch I’ve ever been to

Blonde Demon: 10/10 agree

Elsa Havilliard: One for the ages

Dorian’s Dom: iconic

The Queen: CANCELLED

Discount Deadpool: *gasps in gay*

Balto: …….

The Queen: You heard me, you fucking traitors. 

The Queen: Except you Lys. I love you always.

SINnamon Roll: rude.

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

Aelin knew he had followed her to the pool, her skin pebbled with anticipation. She took a huge swig from the bottle and turned around, slowly dragging her lips off the top. “Hello Buzzard.”

“Brat.”

Aelin brought a hand to her chest, “You wound me.” She allowed her hand to linger, toying with the edge of her bathing suit top. Fingers drawing his gaze to the valley between her breasts. Rowan brought his thumb up to graze his lower lip, and dragged his gaze back to hers. “I was considering going for another swim, care to join me?” Aelin set the bottle at her feet and slowly removed her sheer bathing-suit cover, letting the material pool at her feet and biting her lip.

“And Fen?”

“Tongue deep in a new prospect, as you saw…” Aelin lowered herself to the edge of the pool and gracefully slid beneath the surface. Breaching the water, she pushed her hair back and swam back to the edge, arms folded in front of her. Looking up with a smirk.

Rowan squatted down in front of her, bringing a finger underneath her chin and forcing her eyes from his spread thighs to his face. “And you?” He asked, voice low and head cocked to the side.

“What about me?” Aelin asked, voice a near whisper and heart hammering in her throat.

“What do you want, Aelin?”

“What I’ve wanted for a while now…” His brow hitched in question, and she swallowed audibly. “Whatever you’ll give me Whitethorn.” Rowan nodded once then released her chin, standing to remove his shirt. HOLY FUCKING GODS she thought. The tattoo that crawled down his face danced across every chiseled plain of his body. Covering the entire left side and disappearing beneath the low-riding waistband of his Terrasen flag swim trunks. 

“Eyes are up here sweetheart,” he chuckled.

“I’m sure they are,” she choked out, licking her lips and continuing to stare at the V of muscles hovering above her head.

“Menace,” Rowan growled and dove over her head into the pool. Aelin turned, resting her elbows against the wall behind her and tracking his body as it moved under the water towards her. He came to the surface a foot from her face, shaking his head and brushing his silver hair from his forehead. 

“Dramatic.” She whispered through a smile.

Rowan brought himself within inches of her, hands on either side of her shoulders, strong arms boxing her in. 

“If we do this, we do it my way.” She tilted her head in silent question. “I don’t do soft. I don’t do vanilla. If you can follow my rules I’ll treat you better than anyone ever has. If that’s not something you’re interested in, we stop now. No harm done. A ‘no’ from you will stop this, no matter what. You’re safe with me, always Aelin.” She was shaking with anticipation, and the smirk he wore was indication enough that he knew he had her. “I have spent months thinking of all the ways I could take you apart.” He leaned in even further, lips ghosting hers. “So I’ll ask you one last time… What do you want Aelin?”

“You, Sir.”

And with that, he kissed her. It wasn’t gentle, it was a brand on her lips, fire licking its way to her core. A large hand slid down her back beneath the water and dragged her body against his. Instinctually she wrapped her legs around his middle, rocking against the evidence of his arousal prominently resting against her ass. He pulled back from her mouth with a click of his tongue. “Did I tell you to move?” he asked, voice almost bored.

“N-no.”

“No, what?

“No, Sir.”

“Back against the wall,” Aelin did as instructed, dropping her legs from his waist and pushing back. Heart hammering a staccato beat against her ribs, her every nerve-ending was both too hot and too cold. “Good, girl.”

His praise shot straight to her core, Oh shit. He moved back into her, pressing her bodily against the wall as he nipped and sucked his way across her jaw, up and down her neck. The hand that had pulled her in initially dragging its way across her stomach… moving south, hooking a single finger into the material he paused. “Yes or no?” he whispered into her ear, and punctuated the question by dragging her earlobe into his mouth. Sucking gently, teeth grazing. 

“Gods yes, pl- please sir.”

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

Aelin thrust her phone back into the pocket of her sweatshirt, and shrank down into her chair with all the grace of a sullen child. Her friends were assholes, and if they didn’t stop they’d fuck up whatever it was that started last night. They don’t know shit, she reminded herself and glanced at the hulking man next to her casually drinking his coffee. There was no way Rowan and the Cadre were unaware of the tension that had settled at the table. It seemed as though the only people exempt from it were Connall and Vaughn, currently feeding Ren at the opposite end of the table. 

What in the actual fuck is happening? 

A hand on her thigh startled Aelin from her highly obvious oggling of the threesome, and she turned her head to fully look at Rowan. He hitched a brow and smirked, his eyes seeming to ask Something the matter? Aelin rolled her eyes and gave him a look that she hope conveyed Not at all, I’m just curious.

Rowan leaned in then, using the movement to drag his hand to the apex of her thighs beneath the table and whisper in her ear. “Connall and Vaughn like… Pets. They’ve been looking for someone new since we got back, looks as though they’ve found one.”

“Should I be worried about Ren?” She whispered back.

“He seems to be handling himself just fine.”

“For now…” Aelin mused. “But if they hurt him I will personally cut them into pieces and feed them to Fleetfoot.”

“If they hurt him Princess, I’ll help.”

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

Mouth sucking a pert nipple through the soaked material of her swimsuit, Rowan slid a single finger along her slit. Torturously slow. Swirling her clit with to-light pressure, and then back to circle her entrance he dipped just the tip in. She was shaking, so tempted to grind into his hand, desperately seeking the release that had been building and now sat on a knife’s edge. 

He kept teasing, holding her at that edge while she begged “More” and “Please Sir” and “I’m so close.” He was taking her apart with a single finger and a set of teeth slowly dragging their way back up towards the shell of her ear. 

“Do you wanna cum, Princess?” he whispered. Pulling his finger from her sex and resting his palm against her. That damn finger now resting lightly against her entrance. She barely held still.

Aelin nodded her head furiously.

“Use your words.” A command.

“Yes, Sir. Pl-Please I need to cum. Please can I cum, p-” Her plea cut off as he plunged two thick fingers inside her and began to fuck right against that spot. 

“Cum.” He growled. And Aelin saw the Gods.

Rowan worked her through her orgasm, thumb circling her clit and fingers hammering, until she was sobbing with over-sensitivity. He eased out of her, pulling his face from her neck and his fingers from her body, bringing them up to his mouth. Pine-green eyes boring into her soul, he slowly sucked her taste from his fingers. 

“Good Girl.”

Rowan lifted her out of the water, setting her on the edge of the pool and hoisting himself up with sheer upper-body strength. The front of his trunks still tented, she gathered what brain cells she had left and nodded towards his glorious erection, “What about you?”

“What about me?” he reached for a towel, and came back to her side helping her to her rather useless feet. How the fuck had he made her like this with only his hands?

“Isn’t it my turn?” Aelin asked dumbly.

“No.”

“No?” She was so fucking confused. Didn’t he want her? “But I thought…”

“You thought, what. That I’d fuck you tonight?”

“Well… yeah, don’t you want to?”

“More than you know princess,” Rowan wrapped the towel around her shoulders. Pulling her in to kiss her forehead. “I want nothing more than to fuck you until you can’t remember your own name. But I won’t do it when you’re drunk.”

“I-I’m not tha-” her protest died in her throat when he gave her an irritated look.

“Mhmm. Enough.” He began to lead her towards the door leading them back to the rooms. “Now, let’s get you dried off and in some warm clothes. Would you like to sleep in my room or yours?”

“Yours please, Sir.” She smiled as he kissed the top of her head.

“As you wish Princess.”

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

FINAL TOTALS FROM THE BETS:

Dorian: $75 (Because Aedion had some fucking opinions)

Manon: $40 (Because Lys and Aedion studiously ignored eachother after being called out in the group chat

Asterin: $40 (Because Aelin was a stumbling mess- though curiously Rowan remained calm)

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

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[cabinofimagines]

Can I kiss you? (Leo Valdez xFem!Reader)

A/N: Wassup I’m back uwu college ripped a part of my soul but hey, Leo can always fix it, right? -Danny

Requests: Can you pleaseee do another leovaldez x hispanic reader!! I really love the first one ♥️// Oh my gosh I love your work, so I was wondering if you could do a Leo Valdez x reader where the reader is Percy's sister and her and Leo are best friends, and she constantly gets bullied by Drew bc she’s latina and Percy defends her but she gets really sad about it and Leo tries to figure out why. So like a protective/comforting  Leo imagine? I know this is long and probably confusing but I feel like you’ll do a great job.

Words: 1,296

Warnings: maybe slight racists comments coming from Drew? The random cursing, and uh, spanish lmao 

She was doing it again. 

Drew, she was making fun of my accent. Which is not so bad, I know it cause I’ve lived here for a really long time, practically my whole life. My accent is just fine. Drew is evil, and for some reason, she decided I was her favorite target, so this is the kind of shit I have to deal with every day.

Today was different, though. I was definitely not in the mood, my head hurt after a bad night of sleep and my arms were sore from all the training.

“Drew, can you move?” I mumble tiredly after finishing my sword training, “My water bottle is there...”

“Sorry, your what?” She smiles innocently, “Y/N you need to speak up, I barely understand what you’re saying”

“Come on, Drew not now,” I try to reach for my bottle but she gets in the way, “are you serious?”

“Y/N, I’m just trying to help you,” She puts a hand on her chest, “if you never get to speak properly people will never take you seriously.”

“You’re the only one nagging about it,” I reply, “leave me alone and move out of my way!”

“What is going on here?” Percy notices my demeanor and quickly approaches, “Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I lie.

“It’s all okay, Jackson,” Drew raises a brow, “I’m just giving some... advice.”

She walks out without even looking at me, her friends following close.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” Percy puts a hand on my shoulder, “I know Drew can be a pain in your ass most of the times”

“I just need a nap, I’ll be fine” I shrug, gently pushing his hand away, “don’t worry about me, okay?”

I walk away, not noticing Leo coming from the other side of the arena.

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

“Hey, Y/N!.. Y/N?” He walks up to where Percy is and nudges his arm.

“What’s up with your sister?”

“Drew,” Percy sighs, “she was probably making fun of her again, I can’t tell didn’t get there fast enough”

“Is she okay?”

“She says she is, but to be honest, I think she’s fed up about it, maybe I should go talk to her...”

“I’ll do it,” Leo offered quickly.

Percy gave him a funny look, he kinda had the feeling that Leo had a crush on his sister, but he wasn’t going to mingle in their business.

“Sure,” He gives him a small smile, “I hope it goes well.”

“Don’t worry, man, I got this,” Leo winked at him, making his way over to cabin 3. 

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

I kick off my shoes and lay on my bed face-down, not wanting to know about the world outside my cabin for at least the next two hours. When I hear the door opening and closing I figure it must be Percy, trying to make sure I am really okay, so I speak up in a tired voice.

“Prissy, I’m fine. Please just let me sleep...”

“Buenas, buenas,” I hear a voice that is nothing like my brother’s but that I know too well, “How’s the sea monster doing today?”

“Leo,” I grin, turning to a side so I can see him, “you can’t be here, you know it’s not allowed”

“Oh, so now you’re playing by the rules?” He raises his eyebrows, “that’s new.”

“Shut up,” I throw him a pillow that he easily avoids, “I’m not in the mood for your teasing, I just need a nap.”

“Yeah, I heard about that,” He scratches the back of his neck, “Drew, right?”

“Drew. What a pen...” I stop mid-sentence, deciding to keep the word to myself, “you know, I was about to offend her with a really strong Spanish word, but I don’t think she’s even worth it.”

“Que alma tan amable...” He says teasingly. (Such a kind soul)

“What can I say? Asi me hizo mi mamá,” I wink, returning the smile. (That’s how my mom made me)

He laughs and sits beside me, starting to play with my hair.

“No, but really,” He adds in a careful tone, “are you okay?”

“Is not like I’m not used to it,” I sigh.

I move to my left a bit so Leo can fully sit on the bed, but he decides to lay next to me. Both of us are now facing the ceiling 

“Today it was just bad enough without her stupid remarks, I think I’m just sensitive cause I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I see,” Leo nods, brushing his hand slightly against mine, “should we take a nap, then?”

“Si!” I pout, leaning my head against his shoulder, “you’re the best.”

“Asi me hizo mi mamá,” He mocks, using the same words as me.

I laugh, looking up at him.

“Thank you for coming to make sure I was alright,” I whisper, I can see all the freckles on his face now, and I would gladly spend my whole life counting them if I could.

“Hey, you’re always there for me when I need someone to talk to,” He frowns slightly, “what kind of best friend would I be if I weren’t there for you?”

“A shitty one,” I giggle.

“A crappy, bad friend,” He replies with the same playful tone.

“Totally not worth my time,” I scrunch up my nose, raising my hand and gently stroking his cheek.

“Boring to hang out with,” He continues, looking at me with a strange glint in his eyes.

He reaches up for my hand and holds it still, smiling at the contact. I don’t try to move it away, it’s weird how comfortable I feel on his arms, like this is where I should be at all times. Part of me always thinks about it, not gonna lie. But today...

It feels like he might think about it too.

“You know,” He rubs small circles on the back of my hand, he’s never been able to keep his hands still even for one moment, but that’s somehow reassuring, a reminder that he’s real, and he’s with me, “I’m glad to know those are all lies, and that you think I’m worth your time.”

“You’re getting sappy about it?” I smile softly.

“What now? I know I’m usually the class clown but dammit I’m allowed to get sentimental,” He complains and after I let out an honest laugh, he adds, “especially if it’s about you”

I freeze instantly, opening my mouth to speak but being unable to ask what I wanna ask so badly.

“You should, uh- we should try to have that nap,” He offers, blushing madly after his latter statement, “cause you’re tired, and I’m tired, we don’t want to start saying nonsense because of our weariness, right? I mean-” 

“Leo,” I interrupt.

“Yes?” He asks in a panicky voice.

“Can I kiss you?”

His eyes widened for a second, but I was surprised to see the certainty on his face when he finally answered:

“Yes. Please, kiss me.” 

I lean over, Leo gently cups my face with the hand that was holding mine moments ago and pulls me closer. 

When we finally kiss I forget everything. Why was I so upset before, when I could’ve been kissing Leo instead? Our breathing is in sync, I have my eyes closed but I can tell he’s smiling against my lips. When we break apart, he’s beaming.

“What was that for?”

“I think I’m just happy to have you in my life,” My heartbeat is so loud on my ears I could swear Leo can hear it, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“I’m happy to have you too,” He chuckles, leaning and kissing me once more, this time deepening the kiss.

Oh, how fast happiness found me today.

[coasttocoastreads]

Welcome back to Week 2 of Coast to Coast Reads! Who’s still alive? Katya and I are dying while social distancing, but at least we had a few laughs discussing this book:

Crescent City (House of Blood and Earth) // Sarah J Maas

★★ / ★★★★★

Summary in one two gif(s):

Real Summary:

Crescent City, a place where vanir (supernatural beings such as angels, fae, shifters, etc.) and humans freely mingle and go about their days. Bryce Quilan is a 20-something fae/human who’s still reeling from the murder of her friends 2 years ago. But after she’s commissioned to help search for an ancient artifact, Bryce, along with her new angel partner Hunt, unearth previously buried secrets about the murder that threaten to expose a worldwide conspiracy. 

Pros:

Great side characters. I would die for each and every one of them.

Lots of different mythological creatures! Not just another Fae Book™️

Cons:

It’s literally ToG 2-7 combined. If you read Throne of Glass, you’ve already been spoiled for this book. 💀💀💀

It’s wayyyy too long

Drags a lot in the beginning

Plot .5/5 (the .5 is for you, Lehaba)

What can I say. SJM literally plagiarized herself by taking the plotline of the tog books and translating it to this new setting. The writing itself was subpar, and most of the time it felt like the author herself had no idea where the plot was going, instead letting it drag on until a plot twist that makes no sense is revealed. (You’ll know which one I’m talking about when you get there.) I’ll compare CC with ToG with spoilers under the cut. 

Pacing 2/5

The beginning is full of info-dumping as SJM tries to set up this world which is metaphorically like ours, but everyone’s hot and does fantasy cocaine all the time.  It narrates boring day-to-day schedules that could have been condensed into a paragraph and at times I was tempted to skip ahead. The plot does pick up near the last 25% though, so I’ll give it that. 

Worldbuilding 2.5/5

It was confusing. To be fair, after all the info was dumped at the beginning, I didn’t bother going back to try to figure things out when they popped up again after. But like still??? I think I only started understanding the hierarchy of the government with the Asterrii(?). Also what are the Triarii I am still lost. SJM attempts to blend a more modern society with one of fantasy creatures, and for the most part it succeeds, but it often just feels...strange. I think the one thing I’m most hung up about is why swords and guns still coexist. Like ??????? it’s one or the other plssssss abandon the “aesthetic” Also while they literally have cell phones and keurig machines there aren’t common things like cars? Why.

Characters: (This is unconventional, bear with me)

Main Characters: -infinity/5 they could go die for all I care

Bryce and Hunt were both super unlikeable, 10/10 would let fall from a cliff. They are literally just rewrites of Aelin and Rowan? Bryce is like ahahaha yeah people think I’m Just a dumb vapid Female™️ who parties too much and gets trashed but SIKE I’m actually the chosen one and I’ve been hiding it this whole time because I didn’t want to hurt people’s feelings uwu. And did I mention I’m actually a trained Warrior who can keep up with The Boys? It’s Aelin y’all. There are numerous times where a character says that she’s not stupid and I’m like...are you sure... This girl makes the poorest decisions, yet ofc, there aren’t any long term consequences... (Also 99% of her problems come from ghosting people literally just respond with “k” sis)

Hunt is... idek what to say about Hunt. He’s just Rowan but in angel form. His inner monologue cycles between I must pay off my debt so I can gain Freedom 😔, why is Bryce so hot 🥴, and Shahar 😭. Once again, literally Rowan who also was bound to some evil villain, had the hots for their CENTURIES YOUNGER pupil/protectee, and had an old lover die tragically which led to them believing they can never find love again UNTIL BryLin comes along. Snooze. 

Side Characters: Infinity/5 

Ruhn Danaan was the most valid character and that’s the hill I’ll die on. He literally just wanted to protect his sister cuz she’s stupid af but she keeps pushing him away bc he’s an “alphahole” (haha how subversive :/) I want a whole book about him and Hypaxia, preferably fanfiction so I don’t have to read “soft feminine breathing” ever again.

Literally all the supporting cast- Lehaba, Therion, Ithan, Jesiba, Flynn, Connor, etc, etc. had more compelling characters and side stories than Bryce/Hunt. I was 100% more invested in them and I can’t wait to read/write more about them. 

(Pls let me marry Jesiba Roga or Therion 🥺)

But while the people on the “good” side were spectacular, the villains all felt one-dimensional and the product of over-recycled and overused tropes mashed together. Sandriel and Pollux are literally just Maeve and Cairn (is that his name)

I’d recommend for:

People who loved Throne of Glass and are lamenting the absence of new content. Please read about Rowaelin 2.0

People stuck at home during this global crisis and have too much time on their hands. (If you need that free epub, hmu)

People who are willing to skip all scenes that feature just Bryce and/or Hunt 

People who hate themselves

Would I travel here?

Sorry, what? Already shredded my passport, not getting a replacement, sorry. 

Overall thoughts:

I wish I could somehow take those hours of my life back but alas. 

See y’all in two weeks with a hopefully better book selection,

Tiff

Spoilers under cut

Okay time to VENT

OKAY so CC=ToG, let’s break down how

Danika’s death is the Nehemia Incident, setting the mc up for a journey of self discovery/reclaiming their power. They both show up as ghosts later to encourage mc in a time of great self-struggle.

Syrinx if Fleetfoot. bc all female mc’s need a pet to reveal her Feminine and Soft side

Sandriel and Pollux are Maeve and Cairn. Evil female character with vast power and her torturer? COOKIE CUTTER FORMULA. The scene where Bryce offers herself up for Hunt in the lobby also kinda mirrors that scene in..HoF? QoS? Don’t remember, but pretty sure that happened. Also that scene was so fucking dumb, I really thought Bryce had a Smart Plan, but I was bamboozled once again. 

A gem from my notes: “Bryce is Aelin but with cocaine”

I think the whole demon portal thing is a ripoff of ACOWAR (or is it KoA I can’t even remember), sacrificing yourself to close the rift, etc, etc. 

Anyways, Bryce = Aelin, a party-girl front with a sob backstory that’s her superpower origin story who always has a Plan. 

Hunt = Rowan, broody warrior busy repaying debts getting orders they don’t want while pining over a lost love. They reluctantly let the female mc in and voila they’re in LOVE

The whole “plot twist” that revealed Hunt’s true plan along was so fucking dumb...

It wasn’t a plot twist, it was just plain bad writing

There was no set up at all, nothing alluding to Hunt secretly masterminding an attempted coup with the help of Magic Meth

The whole time I was like “...this is part of their plan right. There’s no way he legit planned this...”

Character’s POVs should reveal what they’re thinking, even if you’re just hinting at something to reveal later...this was just lazy

Another thing that really rubbed me the wrong way was the sudden reveal that Fury and Juniper had been in a relationship the whole time? Despite like above, there was no prior allusion to that?

It felt like half-assed representation at best and completely irrelevant to the story with it coming up again in a throwaway line near the end

Also? I’m fairly certain there was a scene in the beginning where they were all out clubbing and Juniper hooked up with some rando while Fury was also at the club with them? Was this before they got together or did SJM insert this so last minute that no one caught it?

Wtf is sunball. Can someone just help me out here.

Some people have been saying Hunt is Asian coded? Where???!!!!! All I’m seeing is the same stuff she pulled in ACOTAR where all the Illyrians were tan so people could claim they were poc for woke points but not get in trouble for art depicting them as white ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

SJM pls stay away from “like calls to like” you don’t deserve it

[midnight-circus]

sometimes you just gotta meme for the new guy.

this is two memes combined so sorry if theres similar questions i couldnt be bothered to post them separately lmao

it’s fuckin huge My Bad

-

Names? If you were to choose another name for your oc, what do you think it would be? Did you choose their name for how it sounds or for its meaning?

Tbh it was a toss-up for a long time between Mallory, Felix and Everaud, and eventually the first two won. I chose it for how it sounded, but as it turned out the meanings of his first two names juxtapose pretty well together (first name Mallory - ‘unlucky’, second name Felix - ‘lucky’). His surname, Valkner, I also picked for the sound - the meaning of ‘warrior’ doesn’t really pertain to him lmao

He hasn’t gone by his legit first name of Mallory since he was about 12, and has used Felix almost exclusively since then. he fuckin hates it. most of the time.

Can your oc play any instruments? Have they ever wanted to learn how to play any? Why?

No, he grew up without much money and instruments would have been a luxury. He’s vaguely considered it as an adult, but is pretty certain he’d be useless so hasn’t bothered trying.

How does your oc fare in the dark? Are they scared? Do they trip over things really easily or navigate like they have night vision? (Or do they have night vision?)

He doesn’t like the dark much, but he’s not scared. He’s just got bad eyesight.

How well would your oc fare as a teacher? What subject would they be best at teaching? What about the worst?

tbh he’d probably be pretty good as a teacher to a group of like...primary school kids, maybe from 5-11 in age. He’s quiet-voiced, fairly mild-mannered, and has a strong sense of fairness and justice - the problem would arise when it came to older pupils, teens and up, trying to get the upperhand, bc he’s not authoritative in the slightest and would probably cave. Give him a room of toddlers tho that he’s only responsible for in short bursts and he’d cope pretty well. Either history or english lit would be his forte; sports would be worst. the boy can’t run.

What was your oc’s relationship with their parents like? If they didn’t have any parents/didn’t know them, who in their life was the closest to a parent to them?

It’s...good? I guess?? It’s complicated. his parents love their kids dearly and Felix didn’t go wanting for affection, but if anything it went too far the other way. He was absolutely smothered as a kid - after several near-death experiences with childhood illnesses (bacterial meningitis, which developed into encephalitis, then sepsis in his leg), his mother wrapped him up in cotton wool and never really let go. He couldn’t leave the house alone, he couldn’t go outside on cold days, he couldn’t move at anything faster than a walk - after being in and out of hospitals from 5-years-old to 8, and then being kept on a shelf from then, it really had an impact on how he learnt to interact with other kids his age. It’s also given him an unstable footing in life itself - he’s never quite certain if he’s going to lose everything at the drop of a hat, because that’s how they used to act around him. Now, with the distance of adulthood, he loves them and appreciates that they were trying their best, but he can’t help but resent them a little if he really thinks about it. He gets around this by not thinking about it.

Does your oc have any allergies, intolerances, or other sensitivities? How dangerous is it? Does this affect their daily life in any way?

he’s got an allergy to letting himself be happy it’s very serious

Does your oc prefer being in a crowd or being completely alone? How many people can be around them before they get uncomfortable?

Generally he’s more content alone - conversation doesn’t come naturally to him, particularly if it’s a crowd of strangers, and he’s more content in his own company. If he does find himself in a crowd, he will take himself to the edge of the room and people-watch rather than mingle.

How open is your oc to trying new things? Are they the adventurous sort, or would they rather stay in their comfort zone? Why?

He needs to be talked into things, otherwise he’d never try anything - he knows his comfort zones and he’s very comfortable in them, and is not inclined to venture outside. If he’s nudged into doing something, he may end up finding that he enjoys it - doesn’t necessarily mean he’d do it again under his own steam, but he doesn’t always regret the experience.

Does your oc have any best friends? Who was/is their closest friend? What about their worst enemy?

Pathetically enough, he doesn’t, really. Sylvia was his best, and to be honest his only friend, and when she left his social life left with her. He loves her still, but he loves her platonically (even if he hasn’t realised that yet) and that wasn’t enough for her, understandably. Outside of her, there’s not really anyone else.

No enemies. He’s not important enough to have enemies.

How dangerous is your oc? Are they completely innocent, or someone to be feared? Do others know?

tbh Felix’s level of danger is about the same as a puppy with a knife in its mouth. like yeah it might get you by accident but its way more likely to hurt itself and its not really done anything to deserve that so really its more important to get the knife away from it for its own benefit than yours

What is your oc’s vision like? Do they require glasses, are they completely blind, or do they have 20/20 vision? Does this have an effect on their life?

He wears glasses for pretty much everything - he’s not blind without them, but his vision’s bad enough that he wouldn’t be able to cope for the whole day if he left them at home.

If your oc were to be arrested for something, what would it be for? For being too kind, for a legitimate crime?

Probably for getting mixed up in something he didn’t mean to get involved in - Felix is the sort of person to say ‘yes’ to one request because he felt pressured and then find himself 20 ‘yes’s down the line embezzling money from the government for the Serbian mafia with no idea how he got there. He’s quite easy to manipulate - a person who knows how to press his buttons can generally work the answer they want out of him. 

How quiet or loud is your oc? Are they easily capable of sneaking around without being heard, or do they feel it’s impossible to stop talking?

He’s pretty quiet - tries not to draw attention to himself if he can avoid it, and he doesn’t really speak unless he’s spoken to.

How stylistically fancy is your oc? Or would they rather go for comfort and plainness instead?

His primary concern is durability and price - he needs something that will either last for as long as possible so he doesn’t have to replace it any time soon, or something that is cheap enough that it doesn’t matter if it wears out, and ergo, Primark. He oftens window-shops for nice-fitting, fancy clothing in the London boutiques he passes on the way to work, but has never bought anything like that in his life and can’t bring himself to even consider it.

What’s your oc’s preferred mode of transportation? Walking, vehicle, (or in a sci-fi/magic setting) teleportation?

His preferred mode of transport is a car, but his isn’t always working properly so when he has to, he takes a bus - he doesn’t like walking if he can avoid it, partially because it wears him out and partially because he’s kind of physically lazy.

Is your oc always late, always early, or always right on time? Is there any reason for this?

He’s always early, because he leaves early, because he’s already envisioned about 20 different disasters that could make him late on the way and he’s trying to circumvent all of them.

How empathetic is your oc? Or are they closer to being a sociopath? Any reason why?

Felix doesn’t really realise that he’s empathetic - he thinks he’s just doing what everyone does, but in fact he will go out of his way to improve a situation for someone if he thinks they’re being hard-done-by for no benefit to himself, even to the extent of bending or breaking rules. It’s partially why he got into the law-scene - he wants to see things bettered for people who need it.

How much does your oc swear? Or do they keep completely clean? Why is this? Is there any situation where they would be the opposite?

Swearing doesn’t come naturally to him - he’s one of those people who will swear only under their breath and still manage to feel guilty about doing it. If he is going to swear out loud, he does it in German and it always comes out clumsily.

How does your oc’s own perception of themselves compare to how other people see them? Is your oc aware that other people see them differently (if it’s different)?

It’s pretty different. In his mind, he’s pretty useless - a bit of a waste-of-space who has coasted through life by pretending to be better than he is, kind of dull, kind of boring, kind of unattractive, altogether too much of Nothing Special for anyone to really be bothered with. Realistically, he comes across as responsible and competent at his job, perhaps a little highly-strung and nervy but nevertheless perfectly capable of managing the responsibilities he has. It’s his own self-doubt that cripples him, for the most part - people see it in him, and perhaps it makes them wonder if there’s a reason for it.

Is your oc a workaholic, or do they find it hard to be busy at all? Do they find it easy to relax, or must they have something to do at all times? Why?

if he’s not working, he’s thinking, and that simply won’t do. Felix’s whole life is work, for the most part - he throws his all into it, and isn’t sure what to do with himself when he’s sitting at home alone in a dead-quiet flat.

How energetic is your oc? Do they have trouble sitting still or do they feel low on juice all the time? Any reason why?

He’s constantly exhausted. It’s because he’s depressed. He hasn’t figured that out yet.

How does your character sleep? Peacefully, fitfully? What position do they sleep in? What is their typical bedding like?

Not very peacefully - Felix is a light sleeper, so although capable of getting to sleep relatively quickly he wakes up in fits and starts throughout the night. He tends to sleep curled on his left side, on bedding that is cheap, serviceable and durable. He can’t afford to buy anything decent. He finds it easier to stay asleep if there’s ambient noise in the room - white noise, the TV, whatever.

Does your oc have dreams or nightmares? What are they like? Is there a recurring one?

He’ll suffer a pretty bad nightmare here and there, generally to do with hospitals or medical procedures, but they aren’t chronic.

How easy to annoy is your oc? Do they have common pet-peeves or are they stoic in response to everything? What is their reaction if the source doesn’t stop?

he’s real easy to annoy lmao. He’s got a list of pet peeves a mile long and he’s very easy to get a rise out of, so people who enjoy getting a reaction (Lyon) find him very entertaining pickings. He keeps telling himself not to get so worked up because it only encourages things, but he can’t help it.

How does your oc view housework? Do they absolutely hate it? Do they enjoy having their surroundings neat and tidy or do they not notice?

He hates doing it, but he really enjoys a clean space afterwards and goes a long way to keep things organised. Disorder stresses him out - he particularly can’t bear people coming into his space and messing it up.

Your oc has to make something for an art exhibition. What would they make? How terrible is it? Would they enjoy making it?

oh christ. the thing is, he’s actually not that bad at art - he’s got a good handle on anatomy and perspective and can reproduce images or photpgraphs fairly well - but he thinks he’s useless and has never shown anyone anything. he’d produce a pretty solid sketch of like a coffee shop at 5pm or something dull like that, apologise profusely for the result, and hate every second of it.

What is your oc’s vocabulary like? Does it match the way they talk? How would you describe their speech?

He speaks pretty well - he’s precise with his words and keeps a quiet, even tone, and his vocab is fairly developed. If there’s a flaw with his speech, it’s that he speaks rather too quickly, because he’s used to being constantly interrupted - it becomes a race to get the sentence finished and his point across, before someone can cut him off.

He has a south German accent, but it’s a little softer for years of living in England - it gets stronger when he goes back home to Munich.

Is your oc more likely to follow instructions exactly, throw them out and figure it out on their own, or make it all up? What are the results like?

He follows instructions to the T, and doesn’t have the impulse to experiment and mess around with them for fear of making a mistake that he’d then have to clean up; that being said, if it becomes a matter of fair treatment, he may be inclined to bend the rules here and there.

Is your oc afraid of touch or do they actively seek it out? Is there a reason for this? What are the exceptions?

lmaoooOOOOO he’s petrified, whilst at the same time desperately craving it. He’s horrendously touch-starved, but his childhood lizard-brain learnt to associate touch with painful medical procedures, so he shies from it by nature.

How is your oc about medical care? Do they avoid any form of healthcare that they can, do they seek it out over every little scrape? Do they treat their injuries/illness all by themselves?

Felix carries an awful lot of medical trauma with him; he’s terrified of medical care, whilst simultaneously being something of a hypochondriac convinced he’s got some sort of Terrible Disease at all times. to be fair, this is because he once had a Terrible Disease, which then led to a second and then a third Terrible Disease before the first could even be treated, so he does have form for it. He also can’t handle blood and has been known to pass out at the sight of it, but would rather do that and recover on the floor than go to hospital.

He will avoid hospitals At All Costs.

How competitive is your oc? Is every little task something that they can win, or are they just in competitions for the fun of it? Is there anyone they’re most competitive with?

He’s sort of competitive accidentally - he doesn’t want to be, but he feels like he needs to be in order to succeed. He is desperate to prove himself, desperate to show his mother than he is more than capable of managing his own life, but he will run himself to exhaustion trying to get there. He’s happiest when he’s left to do his own thing without feeling like he’s competing against others, when he’s content that he’s appreciated by the people around him and is able to take that appreciation at face value, but he hasn’t come to that realisation in himself yet - he just thinks he’s doing it wrong.

How skilled at lying is your oc? How frequently do they lie? For what reason? What situations would be the exception?

lmao he can’t lie to save his life it’s actually kind of sad to watch. he’s a Blusher, for one, so he’s already tripped coming out of the gate, and then he starts falling over his own tongue the second he’s asked a question he can’t give a truthful answer to until it’s painfully obvious to everyone. it’s just sad.

What is your oc’s immune system like? Are they invincible to illness, or are they compromised completely from the slightest of dirt?

His immune system is terrible - a side-effect of his childhood. If there’s an illness going around, he will catch it.

Does your oc do anything “just for the aesthetic”? Or are they completely practical in everything?

Totally practical by habit, but perhaps he’d be happier if he wasn’t. He’s not used to doing things just because he wants to, because he’d enjoy the experience - there has to be a reason for it, else he’s not justified in doing it. Same goes for purchasing things that he wants - if he can’t come up with a good, solid, practical reason to buy himself something, he won’t buy it. ‘Because you want to’ is not reason enough.

If you had to choose a single object to act as a symbol for your oc, what would it be?

One of those candles that re-ignites itself when you blow it out.

If your oc could only eat one thing for the rest of their life (while miraculously not suffering from malnutrition), what would it be?

He’s got a massive sweet tooth and spends a lot of time baking, so probably cake - he’s fond of little gay French patisserie nonsense.

How prepared is your oc? Ready for the worst no matter what, or completely lost in every situation? Would they have a medkit when it was needed? Would they have an umbrella if it rains?

As much as he panics, in a legitimate bad situation he is capable of keeping his head - he runs on adrenaline and suffers the consequences later. He carries a first-aid kit in his car, but has never needed to use it, and yes, he always has an umbrella.

How charitable is your oc? Or are they more stingy with their resources and money?

god. He is stingy, but not out of a miserly nature - he just legitimately does not have much money. He never has, ever since childhood, and that shit is ingrained in him - you watch what you’re spending, because you never know when you’re going to need to make an emergency payment.

If someone was describing your oc to someone who had never met them, what distinguishing features would they mention? How would one identify your oc in a crowd?

Short guy, kind of round-faced, round glasses - kinda looks like he’s lost even when he isn’t. Jumps if you bump into him.

Does your oc have any pleasure that embarrasses them so they keep it secret? Or are they open about all the things they enjoy?

literally everything that he enjoys, he’s embarrassed about. He likes old black-and-white movies and he’s embarrassed about that. He reads shitty romcom fiction and he’s embarrassed about that. He enjoys cooking, he’s embarrassed about that. He actually enjoys sex, believe it or not, and he’s embarrassed about it. Don’t even fuckin get him started on his kinks because he’s embarrassed about them. tbh Felix doesn’t really know how to enjoy himself without guilt or shame, because he always feels like he needs to justify the things he likes and he doesn’t know how to do it. He’s just embarrassed.

What is your oc’s stamina like? Would they be able to run a marathon, or not run at all? What about walking/another physical activity? How are they with exercise in general?

Shitty stamina - he’s got weak lungs and the extent of his running ability is running for a bus and then needing literally four hours to recover. He sort of makes a vague attempt to exercise at home, but is easily discouraged and would just rather lie on the couch having a crisis of body-image.

How long can your oc stay focused on one task before they get bored? Do they constantly have to switch things up or do they hyperfocus? What sort of things is it the opposite for?

Felix is the king of repetitive, menial tasks. Set him in front of a diary or a spreadsheet and he’s well away. He really doesn’t mind thoughtless admin labour, even as he insists that he’s capable of handling more responsibility - and although he is more than capable, he also feels comforted by the predictability of data-entry. A nice mix of both would be ideal.

What smells bring back specific memories to your oc? What are those memories like?

Antiseptic and rubber floors, with that underlying stink of sickness. They’re not good memories.

How jumpy or easily spooked is your oc? Do they have a fight or flight reflex to being startled, or are they never startled at all?

He’s super-jumpy and easy to startle, which is delightful to some people. Between fight or flight, he’ll fly.

How polite is your oc? Do they do everything with the utmost courtesy, or do they completely refuse to say please and thank you?

He’s unfailingly polite, because his mother would have beat him with a shoe if he wasn’t.

How flexible is your oc? Can they touch their toes or do they have trouble just sitting down because of how stiff they are?

He doesn’t think he’s flexible at all, but certain intercurricular activities with Lyon suggest that he’s more flexible than he thinks he is.

What is your oc’s typical walking like? Do they speed-walk everywhere, do they take quick short steps or long paces? How loud are their footsteps?

Because his legs are kinda short, he walks pretty quickly just to be able to keep up with people - quiet steps, because he’s trying not to draw attention to himself.

If your oc was in a video game, what would their idle animation be?

Cleaning his glasses, putting them back on, squinting through them, then taking them off and cleaning them again ad infinitum.

What topics does your oc know the most about? Are these obvious or would these be surprising to others?

He’s a talented cook and has absorbed quite a lot about flavour profiles and all that shit that I know nothing about so I’m not going into details lmao. He’s also got a bank of knowledge about classic films that he keeps to himself, as he’s never convinced anyone would be interested. He’s got a lot of shit that he keeps to himself for this same reason, and therefore there’s quite a lot he could surprise people with if the right topics came up.

What time of day is your oc most awake? What about most tired? Do they get up at the same time every morning without need of an alarm, or is their sleep schedule all over the place?

Tries to tell himself he’s a morning-person. He isn’t. Left to his own devices he’d wake up about 10 and fall asleep about 2am, but he’ll insist if asked that he’s naturally inclined to wake up early.

What would someone blackmail your oc with? Would they be successful in getting what they wanted?

they’d get hold of a list of his pornhub browsing history and yes, they would absolutely be successful.

How easily does your oc get attached to things? Does everything have a sentimental value to them, or do they see nothing as more valuable than its practical use? What about with people/animals?

He gets attached to people and animals very easily, but as for things - he gets angry when he breaks or loses items, but that’s more to do with being stressed about having to pay to replace them than anything sentimental. He’s thrifty to a fault and won’t throw anything out until it’s absolutely unusable, to the point that he’s gotten pretty skilled at sewing repairs in order to avoid getting rid of clothes. He does have sentimental attachments to a few things, but not the majority.

How stubborn is your oc? Are they easily convinced of the opposite opinion, do they not agree but let it happen anyways? Or do they cause conflicts with their inability to budge in their decisions?

He’s not stubborn, as such, but he does know his own mind. He can be talked around or into things quite easily, but he does like to feel as though his voice has been heard.

How much has your oc traveled? Why is this? Would they like to travel more? Or are they perfectly fine with staying home?

He’d prefer to stay home - there’s too much room for error travelling abroad, and the risks don’t really outweigh the benefits for him. He travels back and forth between England and Germany, and he has visited France before as a boy, but that’s about it.

What signs tell that your oc is nervous? Do they fidget, is it in their expression or the way they say things? Or are they very skilled at hiding it?

He fiddles with his glasses and fidgets his hands around, and is also (as mentioned) a blusher - he’s Not Subtle when he’s nervous or flustered, which in turn makes it worse.

How superstitious your oc? Do they end up following them ‘just in case’? Or are superstitions incredibly important to your oc? What are some that they believe? What about the ones they don’t?

He says he isn’t superstitious, but I’m not certain that’s true - I think he’s superstitious despite himself. He follows them, then gets annoyed with himself for following them and assures himself that he won’t do it again, but then when it comes to it next time he follows them again anyway. He won’t walk under ladders, won’t open an umbrella indoors and he broke a mirror once and almost died. The only one he doesn’t believe is unlucky black cats, because he’s never met a black cat that was unpleasant.

[lanamemories2]

rides onto the dash nude n on horseback like this pic of sam way. oh fancy seeing u here.......... im impeccably tensed our entire exchange. buns like steel cld crack a nut open between them. i’m nai n it’s so nice to meet u all!!!! i’m one of the admins here (josefine frida pettersen on the main) n i’m so Excited 2 get things going........... some facts abt me r i sometimes hv a witch’s cackle, i once drunkenly swung frm a tree branch pretending to b tarzan n fell n grass stained my fav jeans at 4 in the morning n i lov spicy food despite the fact it mkes me sweat like a hog in the sun. more abt lana under the cut!!! also like this or hmu if u wna plot n her pinterest is here n playlist is here 👺🌚

「kristine froseth & cis-female」⇾ jameson , lana, the junior radcliffe student’s records show that she is a gemini and 22 years old. she is studying dance, living in off campus and can be vivacious, passionate, childish & impulsive. when i see her i am reminded of stepping out in the cold wearing just a red slip, lipstick on a stranger’s throat, a bumper sticker on the back of a convertible cadillac that says ‘SCRAPPY DOO IS A FILTHY SLUT’. ⇽「nai & 23 & gmt & she/her.」

AESTHETICS:

scalding your fingers in shower water until they glow like rudolph’s nose, cherry red gym socks tugged high and nothing else, stepping out in the cold wearing just a red slip, an origami swan made from an old receipt, tickling a stranger’s chin with the end of a feather boa, crowning each finger with a miniature raspberry, hugging a knee close to lick a stripe of fruit juice off a bruise there, doodling penises in the condensation of a car window, a water pistol topped with rum and covered in glittery pin-up stickers, believable smiles that feel more like baring teeth, a bumper sticker on the back of a convertible cadillac that says ‘SCRAPPY DOO IS A FILTHY SLUT’, prancing around in your underwear to a vinyl record with the curtains open.

HISTORY:

lana grew up in a big house in albany, NY. albums framed on the walls. mayb some rolling stone covers too frm way bk when of the bands her dad’s label signed. kind of like… a rock star palace w no evidence of children at all. i think i summarised it best in one of lana’s self paras once when i said the garden ws “as big as it was unloved”, not that u wld know from all of the gardener’s pruning

lana’s mum victoria (vic) ws a music journalist w a pretty fruitful career ahead of her when she met lana’s dad richard (rich). his record label ws jst starting out, founded on the coattails of his rich best friend’s (jensen peters) investment w his other best friend (who he jst calls knoxville). it rocketed to success when they signed poppy injects, a rock band w an electric stage presence, n victoria ws drawn to the glitz n glamour of a man tht ws at the helm of his aspiring industry. their love ws very impulsive, all or nothing right frm the start, n it ws almost like she ws mre in love w his accomplishments n what he represented than him

anyway so jameson records repped a few big rock bands bk in the eighties, altho poppy injects r who they’re mostly known fr, namely bc of hw brightly they crashed n burned. (drugs/addiction tw) they were a big chart success bt the lead singer hd quite an intense struggle w heroin (wsnt rly subtle abt it either while he ws in the public eye as u cn probably imagine frm such an on-the-nose band name) n he ws always in n out of the papers. it eventually brought down his career n it ws a big publicity nightmare

lana pretty much… grew up around figures like this throughout childhood. rly troubled characters who wld kind of… b extremely volatile n destructive abt their troubles. the jameson house was kind of an open one as welcoming clients went n a lot of parties took place there. a lot of the time musicians wld b snorting lines in the kitchen when she wnted to grab a bowl of cereal fr breakfast. very strange environment fr a child to grow up in

her parents always kind of jst… didn’t like her much. her older brother caleb ws unplanned bt they sort of welcomed the surprise more bt… quickly realised they weren’t cut out fr parenthood n then when lana came as another surprise 3 yrs later they didn’t even try to hide their resentment abt the situation. her mum ws actually booked in to have an abortion bt cldnt go through with it at the last minute. once when lana asked her why shes so cold towards her she jst turned her head frm her dresser, looked at her, told her abt this n said “idk why i didn’t go”. lana didn’t kno wht to say to tht so she jst left her room n closed the door

(dissociation/delusion tw) bc of this growing up lana adopted this weird like…. she didn’t rly kno what it ws bt it ws a delusion of sorts where she thought she ws a ghost. she’d jst sort of… drift around the halls w noone acknowledging her n sometimes she ws jst convinced she wsnt actually there or they cldnt see her n she ws jst haunting the house frm a previous family

the one saving grace tho tht sort of?? gt her thru this n made her feel Seen ws caleb. lana quite genuinely hs always thought the sun shines out of her older brothers ass like she jst thinks. hes the best person in the entire world. wld b rly bewildered if anyone questioned tht. he wld always look out for her in the zoo they called a home n cut the crusts off her PBJs so they lkd like teddy bears (he’d cook fr them most of the time bc their parents were too busy/didn’t care to) n sometimes wld even sleep at the bottom of her bed curled up like a guard dog. it ws always lana n caleb n his best friend tommy against the world in tht house (tommy lived next door n was always over bc he had very strict parents / a military father tht he found suffocating)

SO when caleb n tommy announced tht they’d signed up to the army lana ws understandably…….. blindsided. she ws rly upset tht they were leaving like pretty besides herself bt she tried not to b mad at them n made them promise theyd b safe n back as soon as possible. she even asked if they cld somehow take her w them n they were jst like :/ it doesn’t work that way luv x

(death tw, ptsd tw, grief tw, trauma tw, hospitalisation tw, drugs tw) anyway caleb ended up getting discharged under grounds of severe ptsd when he witnessed tommy die in an explosion tht took place in a shock raid. caleb returned home sans tommy bt he was never the same after tht. he’s been in n out of hospital n he turned to using as a way to cope so it’s been a rly bumpy road since. lana kind of felt like two of her brothers died out there in a way n jst like tht it wasn’t them vs the world any mre, it was jst her

ANYWAY whew tht rly…. took a dark turn there….. chuckles nervously at hw sad lana’s life is bt it’s fine it’s all fINE!!!!!!! ok. so on a mre lighthearted note the jameson family r pretty well off n bc of her relation to such a big music industry figure she’s hung out w a fair few relatively high rep ppl thru her teens. mostly kids of celebrities n stuff like tht. she amassed kind of an instagram following mainly fr her style (penny lane-esque in some aspects aka lots of fur cuff trimmed jackets bt then also jst…. a wild combination of everything honestly. pastel faux fur coats, seventies style platforms, flame red cowboy boots, pink fishnet tights n glitter used like highlight Everywhere) n bc she’s undeniably Pretty Gorl

(trauma tw) after caleb got back he was rly withdrawn n depressed. he shut lana out n was kind of harsh to her a lot of the time, always telling her to leave him alone or pushing her away. it didnt help either tht lana had a rly traumatic experience w some of her dad’s colleagues at the label when she ws 16 n he was away n she cldnt even tell him abt it once he was bk bc of his own traumas. she kind of jst shut it all in n kept it to herself

(hypersexuality tw) this obviously?? made her spiral a lot. she was already a girl tht loved sex but since her trauma it got…. completely out of hand. it got to a point where she couldnt rly go 2 days without it, probably not even 1. her lowest point has probably been scrolling thru craiglist for anonymous encounters n meeting up w strangers on there fr hookups even tho it’s insanely dangerous n she cld wind up getting herself killed. the risk is honestly part of the appeal to her sometimes she’s :////// quite self destructive n jst likes a thrill to mke her feel Alive. it’s v clear at this point tht she has a sex addiction whether she’s ever admitted it or not. it kind of… almost mingled w tht same feeling she used to get when she ws younger of being a ghost?? like she jst. only rly feels Real when she’s being touched

(violence tw) she’s had.................... SCH a bad history dating wise. she almost always dates fking.... actual beasts like i jst wna gently shake her by the shoulders sometimes bt :////////////// one of her recent exes is in prison aftr he beat up someone she’d slept w in front of her like she jst. has had a very Not Sexy time w romance...... she hd to b a witness in the trial abt it n he ws found guilty n sent down so it ws like Intense n a gd example of the kinds of disastrous relationships she gets herself into. perks of being a wallflower voice: We Accept The Love We Think We Deserve.

this past summer she gt a job at a burlesque club in downtown lovell!!! it honestly is her dream job like. dancing? being sexy? fav hobbies................. most delicious pastimes... 10/10 ideal fr her............... she almost started working at a coyote ugly bar bt this one won her over. she usually jets off to some foreign country n has a rly exotic n action packed summer bt i think she wldv just been working local there fr this one to b close to her brother (the rehab he’s at is close like a 40 min drive so!). she’s also moved into a big lofty apartment w 3 roommates tht’s above a chinese take out w lots of lanterns hung outside. the street? scott street......................... tribute to mizz phoebe bridgers hunger games salutes to the sky so it travels 2 her............. she gt a red heart shaped bath tub installed which hs always been her dream so honestly the summer hs been pretty gd to her....... five stars on yelp she deserves Some happiness once in a while

PERSONALITY:

always smells vaguely of wild cherries or strawberry starburst or jst the candy aisle in general. if she ws a vinyl record she’d b this one n she’d only play good vibrations by the beach boys, dancing on my own by robyn, play that funky music by wild cherry, femme fatale by the velvet underground n (i can’t get no) satisfaction by the rolling stones

growing up lana was always a HUGE social butterfly. knew everyone n everyone knew her. she ws one of those girls tht ws kind of impossible to ignore or forget (cld b a gd or bad thing depends on ur Stance...... she can be a lot tho frankly). very animated, always made u feel like u were the centre of the universe whenever she spoke to u, always made it feel like u were best friends even if ud only spoken to her once.

deliberately puts on tht kind of Magnetic Alluring act tht femme fatales wear in movies sometimes. kind of…. is always playing A Role of the person tht she wants to b seen as or the person she feels ppl want her to be. chameleons to situations. feels like she’s performed as the vivacious n fun loving Lana Jameson fr so long tht she doesn’t rly kno who she is beneath tht bt she isn’t too keen to find out

always the last one awake at the party. jst doesn’t seem to hv.... an off switch. every1 else cld b passed out at 6am n she’d still b swaying around to sunday morning by the velvet underground in her underwear drinking frm a bottle of merlot

she’s always been rly spontaneous n adventurous. always doing something weird n wild every weekend. she has ten thousand ridiculously absurd n chaotic stories

uncontrollably flirty. she’s tht tumblr post tht’s like flirting will b ur hubris n the reply is like kind of sexy of u to say so................ SO confident cld talk to anyone. makes a joke out of anything. tends to laugh when she feels like crying. even if she DOES cry she’ll smile thru it like it isn’t happening she jst.... doesn’t like to b negative ever if she cn help it

she’s amassed a weird collection of like... Things various ppl she’s known hv made abt her. this guy she ws friends w wrote a song abt her n performed it at a gig she went to without telling her in advance. it ws rly dramatic he sang it n looked at her the whole time n she ws jst a bit like.... omg.... lmfao............... she’s also hd various paintings done of her. i honestly dnt even rly kno hw it happens she jst has a personality where she..... leaves an impression like a lipstick print on a white shirt w some ppl.................. she’s like tht tumblr post where someone arrives at a poetry reading n is like hi yes........ where do the muses sit? except she isn’t rly.... obnoxious abt it she jst shrugs n is like.......... oh that........... KJHSFKHGSFKGHSFKGSFHGK. it’s a charmed life fr some

always dapples her fingers thru the breeze when she’s driving in a car w the window down. she almost always has some sort of sweet on her, whether it’s sour haribo cherries or strawberry lollipops.

PLOTS:

exes tht lana’s fucked over hideously. she’d probably cheat a lot and it’d be a whole…mess. whips her in the town square like gale

mayb someone tht flipped the switch and cheated on her??? chaos. anguish. strife. 

someone tht works at the burlesque club in downtown lovell w her!!!!! as like a bartender or another dancer or security or................... whtvr honestly. hvn’t worked out a name fr the club yet bt i think it cld b a fun setting to write stuff in n there cld b lots to build off there!!

a cousin plot cld b fun too

her n freya nilsen run smthn called Dick Sisters Inc......... they hv a twitter fr it n everything.... n a hq based in one of the abandoned dorms in the leach building.... lots of inflatable furniture disco balls.............. lana even gt replica airplane seats so they cn sit n b served drinks by this guy tht runs errands fr them who they call bucket....... they bsically like. set ppl up n help ppl get laid it’s a matchmaking service of sorts.......... started as a joke bt nw it’s genuinely become quite a profitable business w word spreading all over campus........ ugh entrepreneurial icons... anyway mayb ur chara cld come to lana fr Dick Sisters assistance......... mayb they’v come to them in the past......... 

a friend tht lana fel out w bc she slept w their significant other.

someone tht’s getting lana into drugs?? she’s kind of impressionable/down for anything so tht’s a likely scenario she’d get into tbh

briefly did camgirl stuff on an independent bt up n coming porn site....... titters.......... mayb ur muse used a pseudonym n recognises lana frm it bt is too embarrassed to admit they were subscribed............ mayb they happened upon her on there once n nw r jst like. what do i do w this knowledge. idk cld b fun to work around perhaps

an unrequited crush!! (either way is cool)

someone tht is just hanging out w her/using her bc she has a lot of instagram followers or they want to b signed to her dad’s label

someone in a band!! she’d probably make like penny lane n b their groupie/sleep w them all i won’t lie to u. relentless.....

umm a good influence too mayb?

honestly?? anything is fine i cld ramble for days. mayb even one of the high profile kids she grew up hangin w idk. world’s our oyster fellas!

[s3r-en-d1p-ity]

Ego // Sweet Pea (part 1)

first imagine for sweets <33333 did this in honor of Riverdale s4 coming out ehehehehe also this is from the pov of sCaRLEtT bc I really like that name eheheh

As a serpent, she had an ego just like all of the other members. When Scarlett Calahan’s dad died the day she turned 13, FP was quick to follow James Callahan’s (known as JC) orders and she became a serpent.

Only, Joaquin, FP and Jughead were the only ones who knew that her dad died. FP told all the Serpents that he was diagnosed with alzheimer and that he should be left alone.

Scarlett had an amazing group of friends, until that fateful day. Her, Fangs, Sweet Pea, Joaquin, and Toni were that group of friends that everyone wished they had. When JC died, she moved to the Northside, enrolled in Riverdale High for freshman year, and abandoned her group of friends. She was taken under the wing by Fred Andrews, per se FP’s request. Because her and Archie were the same age, they got along quite nicely. Archie wasn’t bothered that she came off as rude sometimes, or that she had a massive ego and was quite the pessimist. He was, however, bothered by the fact that she was a Serpent.

“I just don't understand,” Archie had shrugged one day, sitting on his bed doing homework while Scarlett sat across from him, staring at that stupid football poster on his wall. “How could you be apart of a gang that’s so... violent?” He had said it like he was disgusted. And he was. Disgusted that a girl he was so in love with was in a gang, full of drugs, murders, and thieves.

“Dad’s request, Arch. I don’t mind, though. It makes me feel like I’m in control of something.”

She continued to show up to Serpent meetings and sometimes special occasions, if necessary. She fit in nicely in the corner, observing. On rare occasions, Tall Boy noticed her and gave her a smile.

Of course, even after she moved to the Northside, Joaquin was always in contact with her. On Fridays, when he wasn’t at the Wyrm, he’d climb up to her window and she’d tell him about her week. Sometimes during meetings he’d slip in the back with her.

At school, she didn’t have very many friends. Archie and Jughead, of course, but they all usually stayed clear of each other during school. Betty was very much creeped out by Scarlett, so that meant Kevin was too even though he was dating her best friend.

By the middle of sophomore year, everyone had found out that Scarlett was a serpent. She didn’t bother to hide her serpent jacket, and wore it to school. Josie started talking to her more, probably to use her as a charity case.

Cheryl, who was okay with her before, began the shaming as soon as she found out. All Scarlett could do was clench her fists and squeeze her eyes shut to avoid a fight, but one too many times that didn’t work.

One by one, everything crashed. She was accused of Jason Blossom’s death, found out her best friend and FP were partly responsible for Jason’s death, found out Mustang was found dead in a bathtub, and Joaquin had to wish her a tearful goodbye before he left town for good. Fred was shot, she spent days in the hospital, and the Black Hood was born.

“So, a little birdie told me today was your first day at Southside High? How’d that go?” Scarlett asked, finding Jughead typing on his computer at Pop’s.

Jughead looked up, smiling at Scarlett. “It was... interesting. Place is a shit show, I feel bad for all of them.” Jughead shrugged. Scarlett laughed softly, not expecting anything more from the Southside.

“Yeah? How was lunch? No Ghoulies messed with you, right?” Scarlett piled on the questions, narrowing her eyes. Jughead snorted, shaking his head.

“Sat alone. This girl named... Toni Topaz? You probably know her. Anyways, she showed me around and invited me to sit with her and the serpents since my dad’s one. I said no, and blah blah blah. Day went on and I met uh... some very interesting people.” Jughead explained.

“Yeah?” She raised her eyebrows. “Yeah. I know Toni. Who’d you meet?” Toni had since brushed her off after she left the Southside. She remembers one time, just a few months after she cut them off, she was walking back to the trailer park to talk to FP, and Toni slammed her against the wall and slapped her.

“You think you’re so cool, ditching us for Northsiders huh? Were we really that bad? Stupid bitch, you may be a serpent by tattoo now but you’ll never be a serpent by heart.”

“This one guy, he asked me about you. His name’s Fangs I think? He seemed like he genuinely cared. Then, Toni cut him off before I could say anything and told him to shut up. This other guy, Sweet Pea rolled his eyes. Sweet Pea’s a real jerk, got mad at me because I wouldn’t hang out with them after school.” Jughead said.

Her heart jumped at the mention of Sweet Pea. She’d always had a huge crush on him when they were younger, and even now sometimes she found it hard to get him off her mind. She hadn’t talked to him or seen him since before she left unexpectedly. On another note, The fact that Fangs asked about her too surprised her.

Her phone dinged, and she picked it up only to find Fred messaging her that Archie was going to be with friends tonight and that he was almost done making dinner if she wanted some.

“Hey, Jug, I gotta go. But... will you do me a favor?” She asked, sliding her phone in to her pocket. Jughead hummed in response, looking up at her. “Tomorrow, you know, if Sweet Pea gets his head out of his ass, would you ask him about me?”

Jughead furrowed his eyebrows, but nodded nonetheless. I waved goodbye to him and then left, hopping on my motorcycle and going home, thoughts of Sweet Pea in my head.

Not but a few days later, Archie’s video of the Red Circle spread around and the red dot painted on white t-shirts everywhere began to make her feel sick. She had voiced her opinion to Archie, who completely brushed it off. The first red Circle meeting was held at their house, where Scarlett stayed in the kitchen and did her homework, since she had nothing better to do. She also just wanted to eavesdrop on them.

Then, there were people at the door. Veronica walked in to the kitchen, breaking Scarlett from her trance. “Um, Scarlett? Your... buddies are here. And I think they want to cause trouble.”

Cause trouble my ass, Scarlett thought. If only Archie could use his brain, this wouldn’t be happening right now. She got up, walking down the hallway to where everyone was crowded around the front door.

She pushed past everyone, joining Archie. “No, Scarlett-” Archie started, but was cut off by a tall black haired hottie she didn’t recognize.

“Calahan? This is the fucking idiot you’re living with? I thought Jones was lying.” He scoffed. Then, she recognized him.

“Sweet Pea?” She mumbled. He stared at her for a second, then looked back at Archie.

Before she knew it, they were all outside. She watched, with slight pride. She’d never doubt the Serpents’ pride.

After a while, she began to feel like something was going to go wrong. She saw Dilton bend down, pulling something out of his pocket.

“Oh hell no.” She grumbled. She ran over to him, tackling him to the ground. Then, she groaned in pain and felt Dilton do the same. The knife had sliced them both. Then, a gunshot rang out. She sat up in pain, seeing Veronica with a gun in the air and the Serpents racing away in their bikes.

Dilton was helped up by Reggie, and Archie grabbed her and helped her inside. Scarlett could tell Archie was pissed, so she didn't say anything to him when he stormed out of her room.

“Did you guys really jump Dilton Doiley and Scarlett? She’s a fucking serpent.” Jughead stormed out to the courtyard at Southside High during lunch. He approached Toni, Fangs, and Sweet Pea who all looked at each other.

“Where’d you hear that from, Jones?” Toni scoffed, crossing her arms.

“Archie.” Jughead responded plainly, looking between all of them.

“No,” Fangs shook his head. “The idiot stabbed himself, and when Scarlett tried to stop him from stabbing Sweet Pea, he stabbed her too.” 

Sweet Pea’s eyebrows raised in surprise, unaware of this. Of course, somewhere down inside his black heart, he had a soft spot for Scarlett. That spot was covered by a hard shell though, especially after she left them for some stupid Northsiders and thought she could remain a serpent.

“Um.. speaking of Scarlett... How is she?” Toni asked carefully. Jughead sighed, shrugging. “No one really knows these days. Not even me or Archie. Used to talk to Joaquin, but ever since he left... not really.” He explained.

“She was still talking to Joaquin? He never said anything about her.” Fangs said, looking at his friends. Toni shrugged, confused too.

“Um.. she’s coming to my trial tonight. If you guys wanted to see her.” Jughead added. Toni nodded and looked at Fangs. Sweet Pea only scoffed, mumbling something under his breath.

Scarlett found herself standing in the corner at the Wyrm, like always. Just this time, she didn’t have Joaquin making unnecessary, hilarious side comments. As  if someone was reading her mind, a tall figure appeared next to her. “Didn’t know you actually came to events like these.” Sweet Pea scoffed. She rolled her eyes.

“I’m a serpent, whether you like it or not, Sweet Pea.” She snapped back, not bothering to look at him, and lose her whole I’m-a-bad-girl facade.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Calahan.” The tall boy replied. He stepped closer to her, and she only straightened her posture to show him she was just as tough as him. “You may think you’re a serpent because of your jacket, or your tattoo, but you’ll never be a serpent by heart. How could you be, if you ditch the people that need you the most? Your own family? If you never show up to the meetings, mingle with the enemies, you could never be a serpent.” Sweet Pea said, in his slow, deep, intimidating voice.

Scarlett snickered, stepping closer to him. They were chest to chest. “Honey, you’ve got me all wrong. I’ve been here the whole time. Maybe not the same school, but I’ve been at all the meetings, all of the important events, hell, I was there when you were initiated, I was there when Toni was, I was there when Fangs was. You just didn’t see me. And, don’t assume things if you don’t know the whole story. You think you know shit, but you don’t. Get your head out of your ass.”

“I should be the one saying that to you, Calahan. You think you’re hot shit, prancing around with the Bulldogs, pretending you don’t know us. You ditched us for crying out loud! And not once did you explain, or even say bye! This is the first time I’ve seen you in 3 years, for gods sake!” He yelled.

I rolled my eyes, pushing past him and walking out of the bar. I could hear his footsteps behind me, and before I knew it, I was being turned around and my lips were pressed against the one person I’ve been dreaming of kissing since second grade.

i think this is really bad ahahahah i didn’t edit it oops

[nickmuch]

c.z.k - high school (part 1)

PART 2 / PART 3

Note: another day, another nothing-to-do-at-work-so-imma-write moment! This time for my baby z bc why not. Also, this ended up being WAY longer than expected. Wrote nearly 5 pages, but that’s what happens when you’re bored

I walked down the hallway quickly. The bell would soon ring and I really didn’t feel like being late to class. Again. On my second official day on this new school. So, I picked up my pace thinking it was a good idea, but oh boy was I wrong. Keyword: boy.

Suddenly, I bumped into something and fell down. When I looked up, I saw a tall boy with pretty tan skin. He was beautiful. His hair was twisted into dreads and pulled together by a baby blue scrunchie to securely get them out of his face. He had mesmerizing deer eyes, his lashes so long and beautifully curled. And his lips. Oh god, his lips. Slightly pouty and parted. A hand was stretched out in front of me. He spoke first, making me abruptly stop staring at him and turn my gaze low.  “You good? Did you hurt yourself of something?”. Grabbing his hand, I allowed him to help me on my feet. “Erm … no, it’s all good. Sorry, I wasn’t really looking because I- “. The ring of the bell interrupted me. “- was gonna be late to class. And now I am” I finished. He gave me a quick nod before slowly making his way down the other side of the hall, probably already wondering what stupid story he had to tell his teacher for being late.

“Honestly, if you are allowed to skip, then I am too”. Startled by the voice I turned around just to be met by my friend Edwin. Beside him, a boy with glasses and tousled dark hair waved at me shily. We weren’t even really friends yet. My parents were no longer here so his mom decided that as the daughter of her best friend, I should stay with them from now on instead of a shelter or relative I didn’t even know. Truth be told, I hadn’t seen the Honorets in years since my mom used to always visit them on her own during her business trips to New York. However, they made me feel welcome and home quite immediately, so I didn’t feel uncomfortable with staying with them. At first, Edwin protested a little bit because me moving in meant that he had to room with his two little siblings, so I could have his.

“Edwin and friend of Edwin, go to class”. Rolling my eyes, I tried to make my way down the hall. “Mrs. Robertson won’t let you in her class now anyways. She doesn’t tolerate tardiness” his friend spoke. “And you are?” I asked kind of annoyed. “Oh, that’s Brandon” Edwin chirped in. “And we” he gestured between the three of us before locking his arm with mine and the other with Brandon’s. “Are going to enjoy this beautiful free lesson”. And thus, we reluctantly followed him into the empty art room, so he could finish his painting while Brandon and I just mingled around, occasionally saying a thing here and there.

“Ed, I am hungry! We’ve been in this room for hours now. Haven’t you finished your painting by now?” Brandon complained. I just agreed with an exaggerated nod of my head. “Ugh, fine! You guys are too uncultured to understand the true beauty and excitement in this. An artist needs their time and full concentration to paint a masterpiece and-” he rambled without an end on sight.

“Is he always like this? I’ve only been here for a week and most of my time was spent with the kiddos anyways”. His friend laughed and answered with a genuine smile and nod. “- but since it’s time for lunch now anyways and I am starving, I think it’s time for a proper break”.

Happily, we jumped up and dragged him behind us to the cafeteria. After getting our food, they slowly made their way towards a table in the back of the lunch room. Three guys were already sitting there talking and when we got closer, I noticed a familiar face. My cheeks burned under his heavy gaze. “Guys, this is my friend I told y’all about” Edwin turned to them to fully introduce me. “… so this is Austin” he pointed to the boy with the anime backpack on his side of the table. Austin gave me a quick smile before the shorter boy with a base cap on his head spoke up. “I am Nick. Nice to meet you”. He shook my hand firmly and sat down.

“And this is –“

“Zion” the boy from earlier interrupted Ed. “Uhm, yeah. This is Zion. Thanks for interrupting, man. I am totally used to this by now” he complained about his friend, which made the rest of the group laugh. Everyone, but me and Zion. His eyes never left mine when I sat down between Ed and B. It made me feel nervous to have a guy stare at me like that. It wasn’t even a staring, but more like an observing. I felt like he didn’t like me, though. His gaze made me feel uncomfortable and like an intruder to their group. Shaking my head slightly, I tried to join the conversation between the other four. “This party will be massive!” Nick exclaimed. “It’s the beginning of the school year, everyone will go. Trust and believe!”. Brandon and Austin seemed so hyped about it already, dragging Nick into their own little conversation to plan everything for the upcoming night. “We’re going, right?” Edwin asked me precisely.

Honestly, it was really nice and cute of him to include me in everything and making me genuinely feel like a part of his family and friends. He had even introduced me as his “twin sister from another mister” to our teachers. Our math teacher was very confused by it and asked Edwin how that was even possible, to which he only answered with “Mr. T! With all due respect, but you’re asking too many questions, sir. She’s my twin sister that used to live somewhere in Canada or something, ion even know. T’was Canada, right?”. He didn’t even give me a chance to answer him. “Doesn’t really matter. What matters is, that she’s here and she’s here to stay! And we might not look alike and she might have a different last name”. This made me cackle. “But! She’s still my twin sister and that’s all to know”. Mr. Toya seemed to regret even asking by the way he had already dragged Edwin out of his class in hopes of making him stop talking.

“Sure” I answered him with a soft smile. It was clear that they wanted to go and I didn’t want to be the party pooper by saying no. “Great! Aye yo Z, you picking us up by 8 then?”. That’s when I noticed that his eyes were still on me. Zion nodded shortly without ever breaking eye contact.

Later in the evening I found myself in Edwin’s room – or how he liked to call it “the twin closet” since more than half of it was full with boxes of mine and also his clothes. He sure had more things to wear than I did, though. “Look, if you wear this white crop t-shirt” he rummaged through a box of mine. “And this silky thingy here” he was holding up my darkish red silky jogger pants. “Plus your white air force one’s and this dope black fanny pack” he handed me all the items. “Then, you won’t overshine my fit and we gucci”. His smile was so dangerously serious that it made me not want to mess with him when it came to outfits. So, I just gave him an “Okay”, and got up to get dressed in the bathroom.

Even though, I didn’t feel like going, I still found myself in the backseat of Zion’s car quietly humming along to the Drake and PARTYNEXTDOOR song that was playing. It was nice and chill rather than too loud and hype on our way to the place. The boys didn’t even let him finish park the car before running off to god knows where in the house. “I guess it’s only you and me then, tonight” he said. I was okay with this, even though his presence did make me feel nervous since I couldn’t really read him as easily as I could with the rest of PRETTYMUCH. Apparently their 5-person-group had a name due to the fact that he used to over-use the word back in middle school and thus, it just stuck with them from then on.

“Z! Over here!” A girl with long and straight dark hair waved from the other side of the front yard. Her black dress was cut low in the front, complimenting her curves perfectly. With her heels-clad feet, she tried to make her way over to him. “Shit, gotta go! You on your own, I guess”. He rushed over to her before she could reach us, giving her a tight hug and leaving me all by myself in a foreign neighborhood of a foreign city with foreign people surrounding me. Great.

I spent most of the night in the kitchen, drinking some soda out of a blue solo cup. A couple hours had passed and three drinks later, I found myself wandering around the big house trying to find the bathroom. The one on the ground floor was obviously occupied by some horny teenagers, so I went upstairs. On my way down again, I heard faint music playing from one of the rooms.

Curiosity took the best of me and even though there was a high possibility I was going to walk into a couple trying to have fun, I still decided to open the door. To my surprise I didn’t find anyone in there trying to do the deed, but instead I found Zion sitting on the edge of the bed. One hand playing with his cup and the other gripping onto his phone securely. He didn’t even notice me with his eyes lowly staring at his feet.

“I sure hope it’s just some water you’re drinking”. His head shot up, tensing, before letting loose once he realized it was just me. “It’s coke. No alcohol. I don’t really drink”. He gave me an all over look before motioning for me to sit down next to him. The bed was small, so our legs were touching.

“What happened to your lady friend? Why are you chilling here all alone?” I wanted to know. After all, they did seem very familiar earlier. “Asya? Nah, she’s just a good friend of ours. A bit like a little sister”. Understanding what he said, I nodded and just continued to aimlessly look around the room. “And for the all alone part” he spoke up after a while. “I don’t feel like partying.”. “Yeah, same” I breathed out.

“Tell you what?”. He looked up with his full attention on me now. “You seem stressed and I think you might need someone to talk to that’s not part of your little PRETTYMUCH group” grinningly I said. With my hand I pushed his chest to make him lay down on the bed. Zion obliged and I waited for him to get comfortable before grabbing his phone to play another song. “Now tell me”. My head rested right next to his and my body was pressed right on him. Every inch of my left side was touching him somehow. “I’ll start then if you want?” I figured it would be easier for him to open up that way. With that, I told him about it all. From the reason I ended up in New York to Edwin’s glorious idea that I would be his twin. “I should’ve known. Edwin and his egghead always on some weird shit, I swear.” He had said in realization. Also, I let him know about my worst and best childhood memories, or the first time I tried to sneak out and how my dad caught me. Basically, everything that came to my mind.

“I don’t know what to say. It’s hard for me to talk about feelings and stuff” he finally said after I was done talking. No more stories were left to be told, I think he knew me better than I knew myself by now.

“Oh, so you like someone? Feelings and all?”. Patiently I waited for him to answer. This time, it was me who searched for his eyes to lock them in place with mine. For a second, I could feel him stop breathing. The soft voice of Bryson Tiller took over the room.

“There’s a time and place for all this

This is not the place for all this

Is there a reason why you’re saying all this?

And can we talk about it later?”

His gaze flickered between my eyes and over my face. “Maybe”. He licked his lips nervously. “Kinda. Or maybe not. I don’t know”. He grew more and more anxious by the second and I was sure he thought he was doing a great job by keeping a poker face, but really he was horrible at it. I could finally read him and to tell the truth, I didn’t mind what I found out.

Now, my heart started beating faster and doubt was slowly taking over me. Yet, I still said “Then find it out. Just take the risk”. With one last inhale of air, Zion took all of his courage and leaned in, capturing his soft lips with mine. It felt different, but a good different. A different I could get used to. My hand cautiously crept up his arm, delicately going up and down while we found a steady rhythm. A small moan escaped his lips. I silently prayed to god and begged him to make this moment last forever. He didn’t seem like a stranger to me anymore. It was as if we’ve known each other longer than we really thought, but at the same time this was crazy. All of this was crazy. Yesterday, I didn’t even know the name Zion existed. And yet, here I was, him kissing me and gripping my thigh. (I’ve been listening to Phases on repeat for days now, can you tell?)Promptly, he pulled away with full force. “I can’t, I mean we- we can’t! We shouldn’t” he bursted out. “Edwin is gonna be so disappointed in me when he finds out”. I wanted to silence him and say how that wasn’t true, but next thing I knew, the door flew open revealing – of course because the universe wouldn’t let me kiss a cute boy in peace for once – Edwin. Behind him the other three reluctantly followed like lost puppies. “So, I put two and two together and my senses did not betray me! I had a feeling y’all were up to something nasty in here!”. With a sigh, he was interrupted by Austin. “He’s lying, someone saw how first Zion and later you went in here. And for some odd reason, Eggie is playing protective brother”.

“Okay, so whatchu tryin’ to tell me is that we goin’ home cause Ed had some to drink and you need my car?”.

“… Yep”.

Zion abruptly got to his feet, pulling me up with him in the process. The ride home was actually quite peaceful. Nick and Brandon fell asleep, all cuddled up while Austin tried to stop Edwin from drunk texting some random girl he hadn’t talked to in years. We drove them home, one after another left. When we arrived at the Honoret house, Edwin was quick on his feet. “I need my bed” he mumbled, rushing into the house.

This left me and Zion alone. Shily, I dared to turn my head towards him trying to see the expression his face held. “You know …” he began. His voice sounded a little shaky, yet it didn’t stop him from saying what was circling around in that precious head of his. “I think we can. And I think we should”. The smile on Zion’s face was contagious, I couldn’t contain myself from smiling back. Before walking to my front door, he gave me a long chaste kiss on the lips leaving me dizzy and occupied with my own cloudy thoughts.

“I think so, too” I whispered to no one in particular but myself while drifting off to a much needed peaceful sleep.

NOTE: I legit wrote all of this today in like idk 3 hours?? Whew chile, but it was worth it because I passed some time. Only two more hours left at work and I have nothing to do. Might start writing another imagine to pass some more time.

[numba99]

Hate to Love You

summary: anyone who knows me knows I love slim jim bUT I have this thing with hate fucking him. It’s HOT okay. This is an old trope but honestly i never get tried of reading these kinds of stories so i figured why not. I also might turn this into a series bc i have some ideas for it going longish term but we’ll see. ALSO for the purpose of this kevin is still a ranger bc A) i don’t know how to let go and B) i need the dynamic okay ty Word count 2,249

Warnings: smut, drinking, being kinda mean/aggressive i guess?? it’s nothing crazy but if a guy coming on strong makes you uncomfy you may not like this but everything is 100% consensual  also i didn’t proof read bc im me 

You slipped through the door of your friend Brady’s apartment, music and the scent of beer attacking your senses. You scanned the room of vaguely familiar faces, looking for the one you knew best. 

You’ve been childhood best friends with Brady, growing up together in Minnesota. You had grown apart a bit after high school when you moved to New York for college. As fate would have it, Brady’s hockey career would take off and he ended up in New York with the Rangers. You guys linked up again and it was like you never spent time apart. You loved everything about Brady - in the most brotherly way possible. Well, everything except his roommate.

Jimmy Vesey. The absolute thorn in your side. From the first day you met, you both rubbed each other the wrong way. You didn’t understand how someone as sweet as Brady could like him so much. He was cocky and obnoxious, and you weren’t afraid to tell him that. You pushed each other’s buttons in all the wrong ways and you tried to avoid him as best as you could.

Going to Brady’s place was always a gamble. Sometimes Jimmy would be out and you could just enjoy your time with him. But when he was there... let’s just say there wasn’t a moment of peace. As annoying as he was, you tried not to let that get in the way of seeing Brady. He was your best friend after all, and you definitely weren’t going to let a punk like Jimmy ruin that.

“Hey y/n,” Brady greeted you. He wrapped his arms around you, careful not to spill any of the content of his cup on you. “I’m so glad you made it.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss a Skjei party for the world,” you replied.

“Let me get you something to drink,” Brady said. You followed him to the kitchen smiling at some of the people you recognized from past parties. Thankfully, none of them were Jimmy. Brady made you your favorite: vodka cranberry. Although he always managed to go a little heavy on the vodka. 

Nonetheless, you drank it happily as you mingled throughout the party. You caught up with Brady’s girlfriend and a few of her friends that you’ve gotten to know throughout the years. A couple of Brady’s teammates were there as well, though you hadn’t seen Jimmy yet. Maybe it was your lucky night.

“Hey,” a soft voice spoke from behind you. You spun around, finding the blue eyes of Kevin Hayes’ looking down at you.

“Hey,” you smiled. Now Kevin was a friend of Brady’s you didn’t mind. Kevin was everything Jimmy wasn’t: kind, funny, and respectful. Plus, he was pretty easy on the eyes.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he said, sounding almost sad.

“I know, works been crazy,” you explained, “I’ve been meaning to get to a game, but every time I’m free, you guys are on the road.”

“Hopefully you can come to one soon, we are kind of in need of a little luck,” Kevin said.

You laughed, “You guys will figure it out. In the mean time, I’ll check my schedule. Maybe I can make it the next time you guys are in town.”

“I’d like that,” Kevin smiled shyly. Before you could reply, there was a commotion in the next room. You and Kevin exchanged a confused look before going to investigate. A circle was forming on Brady’s living room floor. 

“Y/n, Kevin, we are playing spin the bottle come join!” one of Brady’s girlfriend’s called to you. She was giggling, much more drunk than you. Maybe if you were on her level, you’d be more inclined to play. It seemed a little juvenile to you.

“I don-” you began, but Kevin cut you off.

“Oh come on it could be kinda fun,” he nudged you. You sighed, Kevin wasn’t exactly easy to say no to.

“Fine. But just one round,” you told him. Kevin smiled, walking with you to join the circle. Just as it was about to begin, none other than Jimmy Vesey wedged himself between two guys across from you. Gross. You thought you had hit the jackpot of Jimmy being out, but no such luck. Maybe Kevin should rethink using you for luck at a game.

You rolled your eyes at his presence, avoiding looking at him. The game began and you watched as people spun the empty beer bottle and kissed the person it landed on. You quickly could tell who was into each other, their lips lingering longer than necessary. Kevin didn’t seem to get so lucky, only giving the girl he landed on the quickest kiss.

Finally it was your turn. With reluctance, you spun the bottle, watching it go round and round until it stopped. You looked up to see who it landed on and nearly gagged. Jimmy.

“Absolutely not,” you stated, not caring if you looked like a dick.

“Oh please, you’d be lucky to kiss me,” Jimmy rolled his eyes. 

“You can’t say no, that’s not how the game works,” a voice said. You weren’t even sure who it was, you were too irritated by the stupid smirk on Jimmy’s face.

“I don’t care, I’m not kissing him,” you replied.

“Scared you’re going to catch feelings?” Jimmy sneered.

“I’m scared I’m going to catch something,” you shot back. 

“Whoa, wait. Can’t someone take a dare instead of a kiss?” Kevin asked. God bless him.

“Yes, fine. I’ll take a dare,” you said quickly. Anything but that.

Some guy you never met before piped up, “Okay I dare you to kiss Jimmy.” The circle erupted in laughter. You felt your blood boiling. Whoever that man was, he was officially on your shit list. 

“You guys fucking suck,” you grumbled. It’s just a stupid kiss, you told yourself, just do it and don’t give Jimmy that satisfaction of thinking you’re scared. 

“I’m waiting,” Jimmy puckered his lips in your direction. You knew he was enjoying how annoyed this was making you. Don’t give him the satisfaction, don’t give him the satisfaction, don’t give him the satisfaction.

You leaned across the circle, closing your eyes. You pressed your lips to his, pulling away almost as soon as contact was made. “See now was that so bad?” Jimmy teased.

“Asshole,” you grumbled, standing up and leaving the circle in a huff. You made a beeline for the bathroom, wanting to wash him off your lips. If you were being honest... it wasn’t that bad. His lips were kinda soft, it really wasn’t-

Get a fucking grip, you cut your own thought off. You stared at yourself in the mirror wondering just how much vodka Brady put in that drink. That would be the only way you could be anything less that disgusted by kissing Jimmy.

Okay so maybe, maybe, there was the slightest part of you deep, deep down that thought Jimmy was good looking. Not that you would ever admit that, especially not to him. You talked way to much shit about him and he would never let you live that down. Besides, even if he was kinda cute (deep, deep down) he was still an ass and you didn’t want anything to do with him.

You swished mouth wash through your mouth and convinced yourself the only reason you didn’t hate the kiss was because you were buzzed. You washed off your hands out of habit of being in the bathroom and went to head out.

As you swung open the door, a figure standing before you made you jump. Jimmy. Great.

“What do you want?” you snapped.

“You know, you are in my bathroom in my apartment,” Jimmy replied, stepping passed you. He eyed the mouthwash on the counter. “So fucking dramatic.” 

“If you weren’t so gross I wouldn’t have to be so fucking dramatic,” you replied. 

“Oh come on, y/n, I know you liked it,” Jimmy replied, stepping closer to you. You took a step back, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. How did he know. Your heel hit the door, pushing it back almost completely closed.

“You just can’t stand the idea of a girl who isn’t dying to get in your pants,” you rolled your eyes.

“You don’t have to act in here, y/n,” he said getting closer to you, “It’s just you and me. You can admit you wanna fuck me.” You let out a laugh.

“Either you’re drunk or you’re fucking deranged,” You replied. You ignored the way he said you wanting to fuck him made your heart rate spike. 

“I see the way you look at me,” he continued, getting closer to you still. You tried to take a step back, but you were completely against the door. He placed his hand next your head, pressing the the door closed with a click. “I know you want me.”

“I want nothing to do with you,” you said, sounding a lot less confident than you would had hoped. Suddenly, his hand was on your thigh. It was a gentle touch, so much so that you almost didn’t feel it. 

“If you don’t want anything to do with me, than tell me to stop,” Jimmy stated, looking you dead in the eyes. His hand pressed against your skin with a bit more pressure. Your mind was going a hundred miles a minute, trying to figure out what to say. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction but, fuck, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t turned on.

“You’re annoying,” was all you could manage.

“That’s not a no,” he pointed out. His hand slid high up your thigh and just under your skirt, making you squirm. “Come on, tell me no. I’ll stop the second you do,” he said, brow raised. His eyes were still locked on yours, a mischievous glint in them. It was becoming a battle of resolve and the way he smirked at you, you knew he knew he was winning.

You were silent as his hand went further up, inching ever closer to your core that was starting to ache, despite your better judgement. Jimmy brushed a finger over your underwear, making you draw in a quick breath. He paused, waiting to see if you’d say anything.

“You just can’t say no can you?” Jimmy smirked, “I knew it.”

“I hate you,” you growled, wondering where your will power went. Just as the words left your lips, a finger slipped into your under wear. Jimmy a finger along your slit, smiling to himself.

“If you hate me so much, why are you so wet for me, hmm?” he asked. God he was such an asshole. You wanted to slap the cocky grin right off his face. 

“Doesn’t matter you couldn’t do shit about it anyway,” you huffed.

“Is that a challenge?” Jimmy asked. You told yourself you were going to tell him to fuck off and leave, but that’s not what you heard yourself say.

“It’s whatever you want it to be.”

“And what if I want it to be you cumming on my fingers?” Jimmy asked, hooking a finger through your underwear. It was impressive how he managed to make your skin crawl and turn you on with one sentence.

“Then you should shut the fuck up and do something about it,” you shot back, sick of his games.

Without another word, Jimmy yanked your underwear down your legs. He coated his fingers in your wetness, allowing him to rub smooth circles over your clit. You bit your lip, not wanting to moan as he slid two fingers inside you.

His fingers were long and slender, allowing him to hit a sweet spot deep inside you. You squirmed against the wall, hating how quickly you felt a knot of pleasure form in your stomach. You looked down, refusing to let him seeing you enjoy it. You couldn’t see him fingering you, as he was under your skirt, but you could hear how wet you were and he most definitely heard it too.

“You didn’t have to make this so easy,” he taunted you, pressing his fingers deeper in you.

You stifled a moan. “God can’t you ever just shut up.”

“Nope.”

You wanted to say something clever, but your mind was clouded. You were trying to focus, not wanting to cum to fast. His ego didn’t need that. Part of you didn’t want to cum at all. You savored the idea of him just pumping into you and getting nothing. You thought it would be wonderful to watch him deflate like that but, fuck, it did feel good.

Jimmy twisted his hand slightly, allowing his palm press against your clit. Your knees buckled, making Jimmy chuckle as he continued to work at you. He was relentless, and you were nearing closer to your end.

The friction of Jimmy’s palm against your sensitive clit coupled with his fingers hitting all the right spots inside you became too much. Despite what your mind wanted, your body gave into the pleasure. A low moan escaped your lips and your head tilted back and your eyes squeezed shut. It would be better to not look right at him. 

Jimmy didn’t linger, removing his hand form under your skirt just as you finished. “You’re welcome,” he said in your ear, with a triumphant smirk. Without another word, he slipped out of the bathroom and back to the party, leaving you shaking in the bathroom.

[damienthepious]

pride... plus lizard kiss... WHAT a GOOD DAY

Day 3 - Affection/Kisses [Day 1] [Day 4]

The Love You Breathe

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Rilla

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Penumbra Pride Week, Penumbra Pride Week Day 3, Minor Injuries, Mild Blood, Mild Peril, Magic, Mutual Pining, (categorized as 'other' bc arum is nonbinary when i write him bye), Lizard Kissin' Tuesday

Summary: The end of Moonlit Hermit, if Arum was a sea monster instead of a lizard, the Keep was a coral structure in the deep dark of the ocean, and Rilla was still... Rilla.

Notes: The Penumbra Pride Week prompt for the day was Affection/Kisses, and since I already pretty much wrote out ALL my thoughts about How The Lizard Kisses in my other fic, this was what came out instead. I've been yelling about this Second Citadel Pirate au on tumblr for like a month and a half now, and instead of like... writing it in order like a normal human, this happened. The summary pretty much gives all the context I think you need, but if you care at all about that context you can check this tag for the general gist of the au. Also, I mostly based sea monster!Arum on a coral snake, and those DEFFO don't have gills, but he's also partially inspired by a specific kind of aquatic salamander that keeps gills into adulthood, and I don't care about rules. :3 Name from the song Underwater, by MIKA.

***

Point the first: it is good that the Keep is now in slumber, because it means the Keep can begin to heal.

Point the second: it is unfortunate that the Keep is now in slumber, because it means there is no longer any active magic maintaining the bubbles of (breathable, necessary) air in Arum’s workshop, and as a consequence there is now water lapping at Rilla and Arum’s toes.

Arum glances down, brow furrowed in vague irritation, but then his eyes widen in panic as they flick up towards Rilla.

“Uhhh,” Rilla says, and the water is coming quicker, now, pouring around her ankles, rising alarmingly towards her knees. “A-Arum?”

“Keep,” Arum says, voice sharp and strained, but there is no answer, no cessation of the inflow of ocean. He reaches a hand towards Rilla, and when he grips her wrist she twists her hand to grab his in return, her instrument dropping forgotten into the frothing water. “Keep-”

“It’s not gonna wake up, Arum,” she says, eyes wide. “That exhausted- it’s going to be out for a while. Can we- could I- dammit, there’s no way I could get to the surface before- and even if I did, the damned bends would probably-”

Arum darts his gaze around wildly, combing through his quickly-submerging, chaos-strewn workshop for something, anything that could help, but-

But Arum has never been tasked to create something for the purpose of saving a human. Nothing his hands have made would do anything but hasten Amaryllis’ death.

If she were only made as Arum is, he thinks desperately, water rising until they are both floating, feet leaving the workshop floor. If she could only slip between the air and the waves as easily as he-

Oh, he thinks. Oh, of course.

He can save her. He can keep Amaryllis from drowning, in this place where he he has forced her, alone in the darkest depths with only a monster for company. He can save her from the death of which he is the certain cause. It will only require that he gives to her a part of himself.

(Arum wonders, vaguely, if he has not done so already.)

The water is rushing in too fast, and Arum does not have time to think of an alternative solution. There is only this; he grits his teeth, hisses a dismayed curse, and meets Rilla’s eyes as the gap of air between the two of them and the ceiling quickly shrinks.

“I can- I can help you breathe, if you allow me,” he says, his voice a rapid-fire staccato. “It will not be- pleasant.”

“It can’t be less pleasant than drowning, Arum,” Rilla says, glancing up at the approaching ceiling and clinging to Arum’s arm to keep the frothing influx of water from pushing her under preemptively. “If you have an idea, I’m all ears, here.”

He lifts two hands, and she does not flinch when he cups her face in them, and this close he can just barely make out the difference between her pupils and the near-black of her irises. Her brow furrows - confusion, not distrust - and she waits for him to explain. There is no time, though, and the water is lapping up over her chin already, less than a foot of air between Amaryllis and death. Arum opens his mouth, and in the last moments of air he says, simply, “Trust, Amaryllis.”

She sucks in a breath before the water rises over her mouth, her nose. With her face in his hands she nods, her eyes fixed on his, and then the water slips over them entirely.

Arum exhales the last of the air in his lungs in a billow of silvery bubbles, and then grimaces as his gills pull open, sucking in a breath of sea. Rilla holds her breath, her eyes screwed closed against the salt, still allowing him to hold her face in his hands, and Arum knows that there will be consequences for this. He knows that, but when he tries to measure the weight of her life against his own-

He cannot comprehend a different choice.

It has been ages since Arum has tried to work magic like this, but there is something natural in the act that makes it feel easy. He closes his teeth on the side of his tongue and blood ribbons out into the water, already electric with the magic of desire, with the force of Arum’s will, and then he carefully, gently tilts Amaryllis’ head back, all the way back, angling her head slightly to the right. She allows him this, eyes still closed, expression determined, and he had asked her for trust but he hadn’t held any real hope that she would be capable of giving it to him, not really. Not like this.

There is no time to contemplate, though. His window is slipping, and humans can only hold their breath for so long.

Arum focuses. He focuses on his will, on his blood, on his very nature. He opens his mouth wide, tilting his head, and then he slowly, carefully closes his jaws around Amaryllis’ fragile throat. Pinpricks, he thinks. His tongue is throbbing where he’s pierced it open, but from her, he will only require droplets. She makes a noise when his teeth press into her neck, muffled soft, but she doesn’t try to lower her head, or to push him away.

The smallest drops of blood slip out from four minuscule wounds, two on each side of her neck, and mingle with the saltwater and then with Arum’s own blood, and where they meet there is sudden, sparking light. Arum pours himself out, pours his will into the water, into their mingling blood, into Amaryllis, and he thinks, breathe, breathe-

The pinprick wounds on her neck flare bright, frothing and fizzling as Arum’s desperation sketches new lines across her skin, and Amaryllis suddenly has gills to match his own, and when she automatically draws in a fitful pull of water through the new openings and her eyes flutter open to meet his own, he drops his hands from her cheeks to her shoulders and thinks, something monstrous in her eyes, something monstrous that I put there, oh Universe protect-

But then she is touching her gills, inspecting them with a look of shock - not displeasure - and then staring up at him and breathing, breathing as he does, even and easy and for the moment safe.

Now that it is still, the ocean having finished its violent entrance, the ambient bioluminescence lights up the water from the inside, filling the space with an eerie, rippling glow that dances hypnotically across Arum’s striped scales. The way he is looking at her- it is almost more wild than what he has done. The way he is looking at her… it is making it difficult to think of his mouth on her skin as anything other than a kiss. Rilla’s heart is pounding, and she knows without a doubt that it is more from Arum’s hands, Arum’s teeth upon her, than from her brush with drowning.

“Amaryllis,” he says, and his voice ripples too, thick and humming and uncanny in her ears, and his hands are still on her shoulders and her sides, and the water is not rushing anymore, but Rilla’s head stills spins. “Amaryllis, are you…”

Her chest feels heavy with the water in her lungs, breathing this way is slow and strange, and when she speaks her her voice draws wide and wavering.

“Arum.”

His name in her voice is a pearl, a pain and an animosity transmuted into something strange and shift-shining and beautiful, something hidden but bright, and through the green-blue water Arum feels it like something stuck behind his ribs. She is looking at him with a wonder he cannot stand. He does not deserve- he saved her, in technicality, but she would not have needed saving in the first place were it not for him. His choices, his failings. She is… Amaryllis is…

Arum has the distinct impression that if he asked her to stay, right now in this moment, she would understand what he truly meant. She might even consider it, for a moment.

That is why he knows that he cannot ask.

That is why he knows that he must now let her go.

[monte-cristo-incorrect-quotes]

Prompts time: 1) Noirtier with newborn Valentine, because this man is known as a really rigid and severe person/father, but how could you be this way when in front of you you have a little angel that must be protect?? 2) Noirtier when his son was a little child, like "Don't let the world put you down Gérard, no matter how hard life can be". These are just few ideas, let me know what you think, bc I think an interaction between child/young!Villefort and his father can be interesting somehow :^

((Okay but YES. Your prompts are always so great omg. The first part got sadder than I thought, oopsie.))

I

“Father,” Gérard says, and Noirtier looks up to see his son, disheveled and sweaty, his eyes glowing more from happiness than tiredness.

“Yes?” he says, keeping his voice calm and even – yet his heart beats faster than it has ever had. The room spins for a second, but then it settles as Gérard says, with no resentment or fear or caution in his voice – for the first time since he turned eighteen – just plain, genuine happiness: 

“It is a girl, Father, it’s a beautiful, healthy girl! You are a grandfather! Come, come see my beautiful daughter, quick!”

And then it goes all in a hurry, Noirtier doesn’t feel his son grasping his hand, doesn’t feel anything as Gérard drags him through the house, doesn’t feel anything but some strange sort of terror, mingled with what already seems like love and he hasn’t seen the baby yet.

It scares him how quick he is ready to give his whole soul and heart to someone he is meeting for the first time – someone who could very well turn against him like Gérard did (and yet make him proud, he thinks for a second). It scares him and yet, he knows it will not change a thing. 

And then his son opens the door to reveal Madame de Villefort laying on the bed, the maids hurrying around, trying to shoo the two men out. There is some kind of complicity between them and the new mother, Noirtier dimly remarks. Usually the domestics would never dare disrespect their master this way – but now, as Madame beams, now Gérard almost seems submissive, meek and afraid, and lets himself be pushed out of the room.

Noirtier, instead, stays. He registers his trembling hands and shaking, erratic breathing as his daughter-in-law smiles up at him, a suspicious, reluctant invitation to come nearer. He obeys, holds his breath and looks down to see the baby.

“We are calling her Valentine,” Madame informs him. It takes a while for the information to arrive to his brain, and it doesn’t really matter what her name is, does it? “What do you say?” Madame asks, still cradling the baby.

Noirtier only now realises that he hasn’t seen her yet – not properly. Tears are dimming his eyes.

He tries to say something. But he can’t, his voice seemingly gone somewhere he can’t retrieve it. He gulps down the knot in his throat, uselessly, and, with shuddering fingers, wipes his eyes.

“You are crying, Father,” his daughter-in-law says. “Are you not happy?”

“I am,” he finally answers in a whisper. “The world is a better place now, Madame.”

“Will take care of her?” she says and, only at that moment, Noirtier notices how tired and sad her voice sounds. He looks up sharply at her and she smiles weakly. He understands. His heart gives a painful tug, more painful than he would ever have expected.

“Oh, Renée…”

“Will you take care of her?” she repeats, her voice breaking, and Noirtier nods quickly. “I won’t always be here.”

“You are strong,” he says, and they both know it is a lie. “Renée, you –”

“I won’t always be here,” she says again, looking down at her daughter to avoid Noirtier’s gaze, “and Gérard won’t, either. You must take care of her, for me.”

“Always,” he promises. “Always.”

II

“You see, my son,” the man said, indicating with his cane the trees surrounding them, “you must be like a tree. Like nature. Strong and sure of your own roots, proud and untamed and dangerous, yet just and kind for those who treat you right.”

The young boy walked along him silently, without looking up to where the father was pointing. 

“Yes, Father,” he said mechanically, his voice dry and with barely a hint of exasperation that could be easily mistaken for tiredness. 

“Are you listening to me, Gérard?” Noirtier said, putting his hand on his son’s shoulder and drawing his nearer. “You must listen to me when I talk.”

“Yes, Father. You were saying I ought to be like a tree, like Mother Nature.”

“Good,” the man assented. “You must be fierce and strong and unyielding. Never let anyone put you down. Never let the world hurt you. Never lose hope. Fight for what you believe in, always and forever. Never let anyone stop you from doing what you think is right.”

“Not even you, Father?”

Noirtier stopped dead. He turned to look at his son, who was already staring at him, his expression open yet unreadable, like it always was. A flash passed between them – a moment, the first of many, too many to come, in which provocation, and some sort of a promise were tacitly and unknowingly exchanged. 

“Yes,” Noirtier said slowly, “not even me.”

Gérard looked away. 

The moment passed. Both of them would recall it only many years later.

[feadae]

Yo so I’m gonna rant a little about the murder mystery dinner theater show I did over the weekend because I’m still in Post-Show Mode, which means that this is all I’ll be talking about for at least a week, if not more, because I miss the show and don’t want it to be over Brace yourself

So the show is called Final Cut and the story is that all the characters are B-list Hollywood stars (3 actors, a director, a casting director, and a makeup artist) and the audience is a bunch of potential backers for the director’s new movie, in which all of the characters are involved. Then murder happens and one of the actors takes it upon himself to solve the case before anyone calls the police, since being witnesses/accessories to a murder would not be good for the careers of anyone present.

It occurs to me that I’m gonna be using names a lot and that you know precisely none of these people and presumably none of these characters so quick key: Me = Cherri Pitt (ba-dum-tss) = Slightly desperate actress new to Hollywood, hellbent on keeping Eddie in line and keeping the lead role, dating Rock because he has connections, pretending to be dumber than she is Nick = Rock Stud = Leading man opposite Cherri, dating Cherri, neither the brightest nor the humblest crayon in the box Jason = Eddie Cheek = Director of the movie, stole the script and claims to have written it himself, Douchebag of the Year (played by the sweetest human being on the planet--gotta love acting), murdered second Faith = Nova DeVoe = Second lead in the movie, One Diva to Rule Them All, known for stealing lead roles from other actresses, murdered first, Rock’s ex-wife and Eddie’s ex-lover, found Eddie and Cherri sealing the movie deal as it were Katherine = Billie Clubb (ba-dum-tss) = Casting director, head of a bankrupt management company, the real author of the script Eddie stole and SPOILER ALERT the killer, the script doesn’t say so but Katherine decided that Billie’s gay--it’ll become relevant later Shannah = Quinnie Winston = Eccentric makeup artist, works on all of Eddie’s movies because Eddie hit her with his car and arranged a deal with her where he’d employ her if she didn’t take him to court, it’s revealed about halfway through that she faked the car accident and that she’s done it before and been arrested for fraud Savannah = director of the show = One of the most amazing people alive

It was a lot of firsts for me, including my first murder mystery dinner theater, and every second of it was So Much Fun

We only had two weeks of rehearsal, and even though there were some bumps along the way (missing people for several rehearsals due to unavoidable schedule schtuff; being told two days before our dress rehearsal that we couldn’t actually pull costumes from the costume closet, etc.), those bumps resulted in really fun things (one night we were missing Faith, Nick, and Jason--half our cast--so Shannah, Katherine, and I did character work with Savannah for nearly three hours, just talking through our characters’ backstories and attitudes toward various things and people and backgrounds with each of the other characters, which was really fun and resulted in us doing the same thing the next day with Faith, Nick, and Jason, which was even more fun, because Faith and Jason did the whole thing in character like they were on a talk show, and their characters are giant divas/asshats, so it was hilarious. Because of the Costume Veto, we had/got to go thrift shopping for our costumes, and Nick, Jason, Shannah, and I all went together, which was super-fun. We talked and joked and it felt really nice to become closer to these people who are all so sweet and so much cooler than me. Jason found a scooter, wheeled around on it like a giant, adorable child, then proceeded to buy it for himself along with the tux he needed for the show. I was looking for a red dress, since my character’s name is Cherri and it Works, and we couldn’t find one that fit that day, so the next day, Jason drove me to another thrift shop and we found a perfect dress nearly straight away and spent the next half-hour or so just browsing the store and chatting and if he weren’t in the most adorable relationship I’ve ever seen with Nick, I’d have the Crush to End All Crushes on him, like the child I am. That being said, I have Friend Crushes on literally this entire cast and just about 90% of the theater department as a whole. Anyway)

Like I said, the show was a lot of firsts for me, and more firsts included the first time I’ve ever worn red lipstick, liquid eyeliner, or fake eyelashes (all very fun to play with but way too much effort to be worth wearing for anything other than theater). I had to have help putting on the eye makeup; otherwise, I would certainly have gone blind. But multiple times, I was told I looked really nice, which you better know I have internalized like there’s no tomorrow (compliment people, folks; you never know, you might just make their day/week/life/etc.). This was also my first role involving sex, bc I am a Smol Bean Child both inside and out. No sex happened during the show (see again the Smol Bean Child point), but it was a big part of my backstory and a big part of why I’m suspicious. It’s established that my character, Cherri, is new to Hollywood and has had so many failed auditions that when she auditioned for Eddie (played by Jason the Adorable) and he proposed a casting-couch deal, she agreed (don’t worry--she got evidence of it so she could blackmail him if he stepped out of line), and now she’s got her first lead role in a movie. Also, Cherri started dating her costar Rock (played by Nick the Tol) at the first readthrough for the movie, and that had really fun implications for our cast because 1) Nick is 6′4″ and I’m 5′2″ and Rock & Cherri were supposed to be all over each other all night and she was supposed to be hanging on his arm a lot of the time so for half the rehearsal process my hands were up by my face, then I got 4-inch heels (which were 3 sizes too big for me--ha!) and during the actual show they were closer to my sternum but it was still funny whenever I cuddled him because it was like “here let me nuzzle your elbow, Rock, dearest” and 2) Remember when I said that Jason and Nick are dating each other? They’re the Cutest Cute to Ever Cute and I will fight you on this I get diabetes every time I see them interact out of character but it was really fun to pretend to have slept with both of them when they’re dating each other irl. I think it was our mutual friend & castmate Jamie (a different Jamie than the one who will turn up later) who called it “living the dream” when I told her, and I was only half-kidding when I agreed (It doesn’t help my juvenile brain that Jason is bi, so me dating him is a “plausible” fantasy--dammit brain knock it off).

I’m really proud of all the character work I did, though, and I loved going really deep into my backstories with everyone and with myself (I have a 12-page Word document of stuff I came up with for Cherri and I could easily have done more if we’d had more than 2 weeks of rehearsal), and I loved the guided-improv style of the show (we had less of a script and more of a sequence of events, with really important Here’s-A-Clue lines being scripted, and in between big important “scenes” we mingled with the guests in character but we had so much character work done that it was less like improv, which terrifies me, and more like a real conversation, which terrifies me slightly less). We’d done so much character work that I felt like Cherri was for the most part a full-fledged human, whom I was temporarily inhabiting, rather than a character I was playing, which I’m told is what acting is supposed to be, and it was a blast. There were hiccups, of course--improv’s not my strong suit, and I did sort of procrastinate on memorizing the scripted lines I did have--but it was all still super fun, and the show went really well! 

More miscellaneous memories:

-The time Faith was helping me fix my hair and just looked me in the face and said “Cali, you’re so pretty” and I Melted -The few times people would tell me I looked great in Cherri’s dress (you better know I internalized that shit) -The lift that wasn’t (at the end of the show, after the killer is revealed and apprehended, I’m supposed to leap into Rock’s arms and proclaim him my hero. Remember, Rock is 6′4″, I’m 5′2″, and I’m in a floor-length, close-to-the-legs dress and 4-inch heels that are 3 sizes too big. That ain’t gonna work. So we changed it to a ballroom-dance lift where I’d be on his hip and he’d spin me around then put me back down instead of me being in his arms and kissing him the way the script says (cue sigh of relief because I’ve never kissed anyone before onstage or off and I didn’t want to subject poor Nick to what I’m sure would Not have been a Good Time). Then we tried it in costume and between me not being able to jump in the Hell Heels and Nick not being able to get a steady hold of me, we decided to just cut the lift altogether and just hug each other instead) -The stage fall that wasn’t (nearer the beginning of the show, a kerfuffle is heard offstage: Rock says, “What are you doing? No!” And screams and you hear an explosion and Rock throws himself into the room as though thrown back by the explosion. He pretend-dies and freaks us all out, then reveals that it was a prank and Eddie threatens to fire him for it. When we started rehearsals, poor Nick was understandably apprehensive about throwing himself onto the hard-wood (or whatever the heck that substance is) floor, since he’s so Tol and he says he wasn’t very good at stage falls in Movement (I refuse to believe there is anything this Angel is not good at, but I digress). So we ended up having him crawl onstage as though mortally wounded, which we decided was funnier anyway, since it took so long and was exactly the kind of extra Nick had decided Rock was) -The dumb names that our audience members wrote on the name cards we gave them and with which we had to address them all night (including but not limited to Captain Schmitty Jones, Two-Tap Shakur, Me No, Schnitzel, and Dr. Dixmal--I had fun appealing to “Dr. Dixmal” when Nova died; I looked right at him and said, “You’re a doctor! Do something!” And he Panicked. “Me No” about died laughing.)   >“Me No” later told me that his name came from when everyone was mingling around before the plot really started and Eddie had come up to him and said, “I like your shirt; who made it?” He responded, “Me,” because he had in fact made it himself, and Eddie went, “What’s Me’s last name?” Jamie (“Me No’s” real name) just looked at him and went, “No...” Eddie walked away, muttering “Me No...” And Jamie put it on his name card and that was that. -The audience’s investment in the show and in messing with us   >They had really vocal reactions to both of the deaths and to everything else.   >I was asked point-blank what was in my purse multiple times during the ten-minute window where there was nothing in it but Cherri didn’t know there was nothing in it, so I panicked and said “just lady things,” and that became a meme for the rest of the night, including when we were lined up along the front for questioning and it was brought up again and I kept insisting it was “just lady things” and Jamie (“Me No”) said “It’s okay, honey, we’ve all seen a tampon before” and started a chant of “Lady things! Lady things! Lady things!” Reacting to that in character was an Adventure.   >Jason’s sister and cousin gave all the characters nicknames, which we didn’t discover until the killer was revealed and Jason’s sister shouted, “Billy Ray Cyrus, no!” (I asked them later what my nickname was and they admitted to calling me Cherri Armpit--I expect nothing less)   >When Eddie died, he had the knife that killed him in his hand (he was stabbed in the back, though; clearly homicide) and Rock took it and later used it to threaten Billie when she was revealed as the killer. He pulled it on her and Jamie shouted “Kill her!” Billie took the knife from Rock and threatened him with it while she monologued and Jamie shouted “Kill him!”   >One person called me over while we mingled to ask what my favorite color was (I said red, because my name is Cherri and it Works) and why my dress was red and why I had “lady things” in my purse (“for...I dunno...blood??”).   >A few people asked what was on my recorder after I’d semi-privately threatened Eddie with it and after he’d stolen it from my purse but before I was scripted to reveal it to everyone, so I had to dodge the question and when they asked if I could play it for them, I ended up saying it depended on how Eddie behaved and walking away as mysteriously as I could before they could ask any more questions.   >There were a few instances during the mingling sessions where Billie called me over to insist that I could do better than Rock and several audience members overheard and agreed with her (it pained both me and Cherri to have to defend Rock).   >When Eddie died, he had my recorder in his hand and it was scripted that I go straight for it, and when I did, Jamie yelled at me, “He’s dead, girl!”   >He also challenged Rock to spell motive when Rock was saying he was going to figure out everyone’s motives for killing Nova and Eddie, and Rock stood there for a second before starting, “E...” and I ended up having to feed it to him.   >During one of the mingling sessions, Rock was talking about how smart he was, and to prove it, he said, “Did you know that there are actually two Himalayas? Yeah. One’s in Africa and one’s in Europe.” Eddie overheard him and mocked him for it, and it came back later and Jamie overheard and yelled, “That’s not even a little bit true!” I ended up having to defend Rock again, leading to me looking Eddie in the eyes and saying, “If there’s only one, why is it called the Himalayas?” Cherri was screaming inside her head; she graduated magna cum laude from Bryn Mawr, and this is what she’s doing?    >My friend Gaston came to watch our dress rehearsal, because we needed humans on whom to practice, and I need you to understand before I tell this story that Gaston is Good and Pure and Must Be Protected. When Nova died, it was revealed that she’d prepared an acceptance speech for when Eddie took the lead role from me and gave it to her, and Quinnie had to read it out loud (it was a Cleverly Disguised summary of everyone’s motives to kill her), and it hammered home just how much of a diva she was. So during the subsequent mingling session, I went over to Gaston and said, “I’m surprised she didn’t write anything about how humble she was” (I was supposed to let how smart I really was show upon occasion so that audience members would suspect me). Gaston the Good and Pure responded, “Well, I’m sure she’s humble wherever she is now.”   >There’s a scene where I lose my recorder and accuse Eddie of stealing it because he knew it would get him blacklisted if I played it for anyone, and Rock comes up and asks me what’s wrong, and I’m supposed to say, “I’ll tell you what’s wrong, Rock. Eddie promised me the female lead if I, well...if I...you know...well, let’s just say that he’s a strong advocate of the casting couch,” and I keep going. But in those pauses on Saturday, our dear friend Jamie took the opportunity to interject, “It’s okay; you can say blowjob.” This guy made it really hard to stay in character sometimes, let me tell you.   >So when Eddie died, he had a blood pack that was supposed to be in his mouth but was too big for him to reasonably conceal it and still be able to bite down on it, so he held it in his hand and broke it with his hand while coughing to make it look like he was coughing up blood. For both the dress rehearsal and the performance, Jason left that blood pack on the floor with the knife that killed him, which he had also been holding, when Nick and Shannah picked him up and carried his “body” offstage. At the dress rehearsal, our test audience was two people and neither of them said anything about the blood pack, but Rock pointed it out and asked, “Is that a used condom? Such a pervert.” (Our blood packs were indeed condoms filled with stage blood and Scotch-taped shut.) For the performance, while Rock and Quinnie were carrying Eddie away, several people asked, “You’re just gonna leave the knife there?” before Rock was supposed to pick it up, and “Captain Schmitty Jones” asked what the blood pack was, to which Rock responded, “It looks like a used condom. Eddie was always a pervert.” The whole room exploded (led by--you guessed it--Jamie), to the point where I almost didn’t hear Billie comment, “Well, I wouldn’t know.” (See it’s funny because she’s gay and therefore doesn’t use condoms--humor)   >After the remaining suspects were lined up and questioned, we asked everyone to write down who they thought was the killer and why, and then before revealing who the killer was, we went over the solutions so we could give prizes for the most and least correct ones. Three separate people submitted that Billie killed Nova and Eddie because she was in love with me (Katherine had decided that Billie was gay, but hadn’t outright told anyone, because the show was supposed to take place in the 1950s), so snaps to Katherine for Quality Acting and letting her character work shine through.   >One person submitted the solution that I had thought was correct when I first read the play: Quinnie killed Nova because Nova knew about Quinnie’s habit of jumping in front of cars and suing the drivers, and Cherri killed Eddie because he had broken his promise to her and given the lead to Nova and then to a random audience member after Nova’s death (and also I decided that it would have been because she hardcore hates Eddie because he’s a scumbag and she hates that she stooped to the casting-couch level and just Angst) -General fun with my fellow actors   >One rehearsal, we didn’t have Katherine, so Jason stood in for her when we had to run over the end of the show, when and after Billie is revealed as the killer. This scene includes Billie being shoved into a chair, forced into handcuffs, and screaming and kicking in frustration after she’s caught. The sounds and facial expressions Jason made were generally adorable and hilarious (he has one sound in particular that can only be written down as “oh!” but is So Much Cuter and that’s the sound he made when Nick shoved him into the chair it was great)   >The script says that Cherri and Rock are very lovey-dovey with each other almost at all times, and that was an adventure at first because Nick is really only lovey-dovey with Jason and I’ve never had an opportunity to be lovey-dovey with anyone so I Don’t Know How, but as the rehearsals continued, we got more comfortable with cuddling each other, and it got to the point where he booped my nose of his own accord and it was Great (is this what human affection feels like)   >When we entered, we all had a quick introductory spiel to give, and in Rock’s, he mentions that he was the lead on a TV show that was cancelled after 6 episodes. The show was called Sky Fling, Pilot PI, and Nick decided to make it a running gag that Rock could never say it right, even though he was the lead in the damn thing. So I made it a running gag that every time Rock stumbled on it, Cherri would say quietly, “Sky Fling, Pilot PI, dear.” To which Nick/Rock responded by patting me on the head and telling anyone who was listening, “She’s so cute when she tries.” And like it was a dick move for Rock, and Cherri hated it, and I’m not usually a fan of being patted on the head (which has actually happened to me before, very condescendingly, and I hated it), but I kinda liked it when Nick/Rock did it??   >Our introductory spiels weren’t in the script; we had to come up with them, and when I improvised mine the first time we did it, it was a bit of a trainwreck, so that night after rehearsal I wrote a speech up and sent it to the director for editing and she said it was great and didn’t need to be edited, so that was Validating as Heck   >Backstory: there’s a scene before Nova’s death when she says one too many rude things about me and I run up and shove her and say, “I heard the horrible things you said about me!” Then she proceeds to continue to be a terrible human being and says loudly enough for the whole room to hear, “We could have even been friends if I hadn’t found you with Eddie in my bed.” I lose it and try to strangle her, shouting, “Take it back!” because this is the first time it’s revealed for the whole audience to hear that I slept with Eddie (this is after I confront him with the recorder, but that’s quiet and only implies that we slept together). So, during one of the last rehearsals, while Rock is monologuing about how Nova’s body had red marks on her neck, so she must have been strangled, I felt someone’s eyes on me and found Billie staring pointedly at me, which was legitimately terrifying, so of course we had to put it into the actual show.   >During the dress rehearsal on Friday, I had a real live good improv moment! During one of our mingling sessions, Billie got fed up with me and said that I was nothing special, because there had been a thousand new, desperate actresses to whom Eddie had given the casting-couch deal. She said to me, “There are a thousand Cherri Pitts out there.” Without even thinking, I innocently tilted my head and said, “No, I’m the only one called Cherri Pitt.” Savannah told me afterward that she had had to physically restrain herself from cackling when I’d said that, so that felt really good.   >The performance on Saturday night was the first time we’d run the killer reveal with actual (plastic) handcuffs, and it turned out to be an adventure. Quinnie spent at least a whole minute, if not longer, trying to get one of Billie’s hands cuffed, and then was struggling so hard with the other hand that Rock had to help her (I desperately wanted to help, but I was supposed to stay on the other end of the room so I could run to Rock all dramatic-and-romantic-like after Billie was cuffed), and when they finally got her cuffed, there was enough time for the audience to applaud just a little, and then Billie tried resisting and yanked herself right out of the cuffs, so I gave up on my blocking and went over there and ended up just hovering uselessly while Quinnie just held Billie in place while Rock gave his triumphant monologue, ending with “Who’s the moron now, Billie Clubb?” Our dear friend Jamie chimed in with “Still you, dude.” I ended up only crossing a couple of feet to declare Rock my hero instead of the whole room. Dramatic.   >So, by now you know that the recorder on which I recorded Eddie’s arrangement with me is pretty dang important to the plot. Well, for the whole rehearsal process, I’d been using my phone as a stand-in for it, assuming we’d have one in the prop closet which we could pull and I would use and it would be great. Not so--the closest thing the prop closet had to a cassette recorder was this big-ass boombox that must have been two feet across and weighed as much as a small dog. For the performance itself, Faith lent me a cassette player she had, and that fit in my purse and it was fine, but for the dress rehearsal, I got to run and get this behemoth for my big reveal for Eddie, and poor Jason had to drag it in with him when he died, and he had to pretend that Eddie hadn’t seen me recording us with it!   >In the ending scene, when it’s revealed that Billie is the killer, she takes the knife that she used to kill Eddie back from Rock and holds Rock at knifepoint while she monologues and explains that Nova’s death was an accident but she meant to kill Eddie 100% and why she didn’t care that Nova was dead and why she killed Eddie and yada yada yada. Then at the end of all that, Rock rushes her and forces her to stab him, and he “dies,” and it looks real and I rush to him and cry over his “body” while Quinnie tries to keep Billie from escaping, and it’s revealed that Rock isn’t really dead, there’s a callback to his first fake death, it’s great. But this onstage death-by-stabbing means that we need a retractable knife. The only retractable knife we have is at least a decade old and on its last leg. So in Billie and Rock’s struggle for the knife during the dress rehearsal, it breaks before Billie’s had the chance to stab the blood bag Rock’s got in his shirt pocket. This means that Billie, panicking a little bit, starts trying to punch his blood bag open before giving up and sprinting off and the show continues as normally as it can. During the actual performance, we used another fake knife which wasn’t retractable, since the retractable one broke, and I couldn’t see whether or not Rock’s blood bag had broken properly because of where I was standing, so just to be sure, when I threw myself onto his body, I made sure to hit the blood bag. This was when I discovered that it had in fact broken and sprayed blood all over Rock just like it had been supposed to do. So I had fake blood on my dress and hands and arms and in my hair, and when I threw myself onto Nick, I heard the poor guy go “oof,” because he wasn’t expecting me to hurl myself on him with that much force. Sorry, Nick.   >So, it’s been established that Eddie, Douchebag Director of the Year, was played by Jason, the Sweetest and Purest Human Being to Ever Grace the Planet. One of the notes he got from Savannah on Friday after the dress rehearsal was to be even sleazier and grosser than ever before for the performance, because when he died, she hadn’t felt like “Good, Eddie’s dead;” she’d gone “Awh, Jason died.” So on Saturday, while we were waiting for people to show up and starting to get into character and all that, this precious bean came up to me and asked in the politest manner you could possibly ask this question if he could slap my ass just to show how sleazy and gross Eddie is. This precious ray of sunshine and purity couldn’t even say the words “slap your [ass/butt/whatever he says, idk];” he had to mime it and say, “you know...” Now, the most intimate thing I’ve ever done with anyone is a Congratulations-On-Doing-Well-In-Your-Show Hug, so I panicked a little bit on the inside, but what I told him was, “It’ll make both Cherri and me really uncomfortable, but it’s 100% in character for Eddie, so yes. Go for it.” He looked unsure because I’d said that it’d make me uncomfortable (the BEAN), but I reassured him that I’d given him permission, so it was okay, and we agreed that he’d do it. So I was on tenderhooks the whole show waiting for that to happen, and then the grossest thing he did the whole show was get really close to me and tell me I looked “ravishing” (which still had my brain going, “Well, mark me down as scared and horny!”) and hug me mock-protectively when Nova called me “tainted goods” (I wasn’t expecting that, and neither was Cherri, and oh boy was it startling). I asked him about the absent ass-slap after the show, and he told me what had happened: there’s a bit where Eddie’s gone for a few minutes and right when we start to wonder where he is, he comes back in with women’s lingerie on over his shirt and pants, and he explains that he wanted to try it because he saw Ed Wood, Jr. do it and because it helps him relax, but he assures the audience that he’s still “all man, all right.” He had been getting closer and closer to me during this bit, and I had walked away to give him room and because I felt like that’s what Cherri would have done, since, you know, she’s slept with this sleazeball and hardcore regrets it and would rather not be closer to him than necessary. Jason told me that he was getting closer to me so that he could slap my ass on the words “all man, all right,” and I had walked away. So that happened.   >Cherri’s supposed to be pretending to be dumb the whole show, with little bits of how smart she really is leaking through at key points, and I was kind of struggling with the dumb act for a while, especially with physicality and voice (bc my voice is v low & I naturally stand up hecka straight, and neither of those things is true for Cherri’s dumb act), but then I talked with the director about just what kind of voice she wanted from me and as she demoed it my brain went MARY KATE WILES AS ANNABEL LEE, so I gave her my Annabel impression and she said it worked great so Cherri’s dumb act was basically Annabel Lee but a little dumber and on the one hand I’m so sorry, MK, that I used Annabel as my basis for a dumb character, but in her defense she’s only pretending to be dumb, and also I got lots of compliments and was told it worked well, so I’m proud of myself and v excited   >On a related note, while I was getting the note that I needed to be dumber, the director told me straight to my face that I naturally walk “very strong and tall, leading with [my] chest,” and like, it wasn’t explicitly a compliment, but it still felt really nice to know that this was a thing she’d noticed about me, and I considered it a good thing (ofc when I’m not playing a character who’s not supposed to do that), and it’s really nice when people tell you things they notice/think about you. idk   >After the show, it was announced that we’re hoping to make the murder mystery dinner theater an annual thing, which is super-exciting because I freaking adore this and wanna do it more (although at this moment I’m still in post-show mode and specifically want to do this show with this cast and director again)   >There was a lot of just chatting with the folks in the cast like actual friends, which was super-fun and still feels really special to me because Socialization Is Not My Strong Suit, nor is Having Real Live Friends With Whom I Interact Face-to-Face, and this entire theater department is filled with people who are all so much cooler than me, so it’s validating as hell when these people actively include me in their conversations and straight-up tell me nice things to my face and it’s clear that they mean it and it feels like they think I’m cool too which just??? Does not compute???? But feels so nice

Sorry about the big ol’ wall of text, but if I hadn’t done this, I would just rant about it for weeks on end and end up telling the same stories a hundred times because I’ve forgotten who’s heard which stories, so here are all of them.

So... yeah.

[voidwaren]

Untitled bc spoilerzzz

I haven’t published the all parts of Whale Song that come before this scene yet, but I’m going to share it anyway since it’s finished and Whale Song pt. 3 is still in production. Spoilers for said unpublished parts will exist below the cut, so hold off on this one if you’d rather not know yet.

So this takes place after the first kiss I wrote. By now, Chloe’s learned of Warren’s time loop. That’s about all the information you really need to know, honestly. 

Per usual, the content of this is subject to change should I end up adding more to what comes before it, but anything that goes on Tumblr here is more preview than final product. Anyway, enjoy! (As always, previous warnings still apply, because I can never be too careful.)

When Warren gets a frantic text from Max to meet her at the outlook near Chloe’s house, he doesn’t think twice about following it. He doesn’t think to ask her what’s going on and doesn’t think to ask if he should bring someone of authority along in case some serious shit was going down. Doesn’t think to do much more than send her a text in response asking her if she’s okay, to which she only pleads for him to hurry. It scares him to the core, causing him to frantically evacuate his dorm room and scramble to his car, and he tentatively breaks the speed limit a couple of times during the short ride to Chloe’s place.

He really wishes he had thought to ask what the hell was going on, however, because before he can even reach the road that Chloe’s house sits on, he’s stopped by a police officer standing in the middle of the road and told to detour. Instead of meekly following orders like he might have in another lifetime, he turns down the road he’s pointed to and pulls to the side a few feet in, throwing himself out of the car just in time to see Max hustling up to him with a panicked look on her face. Behind her, a group of people mingle with a handful of cops on the opposite side of the road he was just on, and all three of the police cars that block the way have their lights going. Warren shifts forward on his feet, eyes allured onto the scene in an attempt to glean more information, but he has no idea what’s going on.

“What the hell?” Warren asks the scene more than he asks Max, who’s reached him and immediately gabbed onto him. He glances down at her for a bare second before looking back to the sight, trying to figure out who the people the cops were talking to were.

“Warren,” Max calls urgently, her hand tightly clasped around his elbow, and Warren tears his confused gaze away from the cluster of people and flashing lights. “They found her,” Max tells him before he has the chance to say anything, and he looks back to the congregation sharply. Found her? Found who? When he looks at Max again, his confusion is still clear on his face, and Max looks pale as a ghost. “They found Rachel’s body,” she clarifies for him slowly, so quiet that Warren is given the opportunity to think he didn’t hear her right. But he knows he did.

Cold, dizzying grief hits him in the chest, and Warren’s arms break out in goosebumps beneath the sleeves of his shirt. His reaction startles him, because he’d never known Rachel. He’d never met her, never knew anything but her name and what she looked like from her missing person’s poster. But she’d played a massive part in the near half-year of his life that he’d lost, and something in him aches for her.

“What?” he chokes once he’s able to pull away from his astonishment. “Where?”

“The junkyard.” Max turns and scrutinizes the cluster of people. There’s no doubt they have something to do with the recovery of Rachel’s body, but they weren’t all cops. Warren didn’t know what they were doing. She looks at him again, and Warren notices her bottom lip is chapped, like she’d been busy worrying it. “Chloe already knows.”

Warren’s eyebrows shoot up. If Chloe already knew, then it was likely she wasn’t taking it well. And if she was taking it like she did the first time Rachel had been declared dead over her previous stance of missing despite there being a lack of a body, then the fact Max was here with him and not with Chloe made exactly zero sense to him. Something was going on here.

“Where is she?” Warren asks.

“I don’t know, she’s not answering her phone. I don’t know where she could have gone.” Max’s grip, still on Warren’s elbow, tightens. Understanding starts to grow in Warren’s consciousness. “I don’t know what else to do. I need—Warren, please, I need your car. I need to look for her.”

Max looks so distraught that Warren feels guilty she even thinks that he’d be capable of telling her no in the first place. How could he ever?

“Here,” he says without hesitation, fishing his car keys out of his jacket pocket and holding them out for her. “Go. I’ll take the bus back to Blackwell. Keep me updated, okay?”

“God, thank you, Warren.” Max’s arms are tight around him in a hug he leans into, savoring it despite knowing he didn’t feel the same way about her as he used to. Warren watches grimly her as she jogs away from him and throws herself into his old car. The engine revs to life, and then she’s gone.

Then, just as his eyes stray back to the curve of the beach he’d become so familiar with in recent months, it all hits him at once, and he stops breathing.

Because Rachel’s body has been found. The news of its discovery has had a chance to go around—long enough for Chloe to go missing and for Max to fail at immediately finding her. Likely because of her connection with Madsen, but … it didn’t seem probable to Warren that he’d outright told her. He was a jerk, but he couldn’t have been that cruel, not when it was obvious he meant well for the people he cared about, Chloe included.

Which means Chloe may have found out another way. Through a connection, maybe.

No one had more connections than Nathan, and, with such a strong correlation to the case surrounding Rachel’s disappearance, no one was more likely to be given the inside information faster than Nathan.

And, Warren now realizes, he hadn’t heard from Nathan all day.

Shit.

Shit.

Warren rips his phone out of his back pocket and dials Nathan’s number, but it does nothing but ring and go to voicemail. He tries a text, but knows with building anxiety that Nathan wasn’t going to answer that, either.

He has to get back to the dorms. Now. Nathan might not be there—but he had to try.

Warren checks the time, but his mental schedule tells him the bus isn’t expected around for another nineteen minutes. He can’t wait that long. He’s better off traveling back to Blackwell on foot, regardless of the distance. He could nab the bus on its way there if it passed him.

He needs get back to Blackwell. He needs to make sure Nathan hasn’t—

Warren turns on his heel and takes off at a run. He’d deal with the consequences of his unnatural exercise later, because running was the only option his panic allowed him. He couldn’t have walked if he tried.

Warren’s in stitches when he finally reaches the campus, but he pushes on, clutching his sides like it would do anything for the stabbing pains in them. His legs feel like lead and his head feels like it’s full of buzzing bees, but he couldn’t take a breather. Not now. Not yet.

When he reaches Nathan’s door, though, he stumbles over his attempt to knock and his knuckles thump quietly against the wood. He tries again, twice when no one answers, but still to no avail. Either Nathan isn’t in there, or he’s just not answering the door.

“Nathan?” Warren calls, because something’s telling him not to walk away just yet. “Nathan!”

There’s a long beat of silence, mostly consisting of Warren trying to slow his breathing with his forehead pressed against the door, and then the door knob starts turning. Warren jumps away.

Victoria’s at the door when it opens, and she scrapes her eyes over Warren silently. She looks tired; her eyes are red around the edges and purple just underneath, and the usually-perfectly-pressed points of her collar are crumpled and stained on one edge. She doesn’t say anything to him, and Warren only looks back at her with his lips pressed in a line, his eyes wordlessly begging her to let him in. For a moment, she’s nothing but a dragon guarding the gates of treasure. But then she relents.

She sighs and steps aside, back into the room, and Warren stumbles in over his feet as he hurriedly tries to enter before she can change her mind.

What Warren finds inside doesn’t surprise him, yet still shocks him into stopping two steps over the threshold.

Nathan’s room is a wreck.

There are papers strewn everywhere, torn and crunched and mutilated until they were nothing but confetti. There are movies on the floor from where they’d spilled off their shelf, piled like a nest around a black phone Warren almost doesn’t notice in the dark of the room. One of the movies lies open in its casing, telling Warren that something likely hit it hard before it fell. Beer bottles sit neatly in a cluster at the foot of Nathan’s bed, and shards of glass the same color make a pile next to them. Files spilling of photos coat the floor haphazardly, and Warren belatedly realizes he’s stepping on one. Once he moves his foot, his eyes are back to the scene before him.

Pictures, the creepy ones Warren always found himself staring at when he was zoning out while waiting for Nathan to put his bong away, are missing from the walls, and Warren spots a hint of florescent orange just beneath the couch before his eyes center on the figure occupying it.

Nathan’s the figure on the couch, lying on his back with his arm across his eyes. His knuckles are red and pink, obvious even in the darkness of the room, but that seems to be the extend of bodily harm that Warren can see. Nathan doesn’t respond to Warren’s presence, and Warren wonders if he might be asleep before deciding that was a stupid question. Of course he wasn’t.

Unsure of what it was he was even doing now that he’d gained entry and confirmed Nathan hadn’t done any irreversible damage—at least, not to himself—Warren looks at Victoria helplessly, but she only stands there with her arms crossed and her cold, hard eyes watching Warren unwaveringly. She’d never warmed to Warren like Max had done to Nathan. It was why Warren was never at things involving Nathan’s circle, despite Nathan sometimes being at the ones that involved Warren’s circle. Nathan’s friends, apart from Hayden, had never accepted Warren’s presence as a constant in Nathan’s life.

That fact had never bothered him until this very moment.

“What happened?” Warren asks when Victoria remains stonily silent, and is subsequently horrified when his voice is no stronger than a rasp that breaks over the second word. Instead of answering, Victoria’s slim blonde eyebrow raises, and Warren feels his face heat up under the scrutiny.

“I did,” a voice answers, catching Warren by surprise. Nathan’s got his head turned toward him when Warren looks over, and he looks like he’d taken a hiking trip through Hell. Warren doesn’t think he’s ever seen Nathan so pale, so ragged, not even before the loops had started and Nathan had been at his very worst.

Nathan pulls himself up into a sitting position, scrubbing his hands over the hollows of his cheeks, then up to his eyes. Beside Warren, Victoria takes a step towards Nathan, but then stops, her arms crossed tight across her chest like she was physically holding herself back. When Nathan looks up again, his eyes are on Warren first, but they flick to Victoria after a moment.

“You can go, Vic,” Nathan tells her.

“Nathan,” she starts immediately, but is cut off when Nathan shakes his head.

“Just go, Victoria.”

Victoria’s hands ball into fists, and Warren doesn’t miss the hurt expression she flashes beneath her hard exterior. Nathan seems to notice it, too, because he continues in a softer voice, “I’ll text you. You don’t need to be here. You need to sleep and do your girly pampering crap. You look like shit.”

It still sounds harsh to Warren’s ears, but there must be something to it that registers with Victoria, because Victoria’s shoulders slump after a beat, and then her eyes roll and she scoffs quietly. “Wonder who’s fault that is,” she mutters. She looks at Warren tiredly. “His phone’s on his bed, turned off. I’m speed dial four. Don’t forget it.”

The silent threat is obvious:  if you don’t contact me the second something happens, you’re a dead man walking.

Warren fights a wince and nods at her. She didn’t trust him with Nathan, but Warren doesn’t think she trusts anyone with him but herself. He didn’t take it personally.

The door shuts quietly behind her when she leaves, and then it’s just Warren and Nathan in the silent dark. Warren looks to Nathan to find him already looking back.

Warren breaks the silence first. “Max told me. I would have come by earlier if I had known.”

Nathan turns his head so he faces the ceiling again and doesn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry,” Warren says quietly, and the silence spreads between them once more. Warren shifts on his feet, unwilling to break it again when he had nothing to offer, but aware he couldn’t just consider this encounter done with and depart. He couldn’t leave until he knew Nathan would be alright.

No, that wasn’t right. He couldn’t leave until he knew Nathan was alright. Because, until he was, there was always the span of time that still existed where he wasn’t, and Warren couldn’t leave him to that on his own.

Because Nathan wouldn’t if it were Warren in his position.

Maybe he would have if he had been the stranger he’d been so many times before, but this Nathan—the one who allowed Warren into his room even when he wasn’t at his most stable, the one who kept an eye on Warren even when Warren was too distracted to notice in the moment, the one who would defend him and stand with him if Warren really needed it—would. Without a doubt, Warren knows this Nathan would.

And this Nathan was the only one who mattered anymore. The other Nathans were gone.

Without breaking the quiet, Warren digs his phone out of his pocket, ignores the low battery warning, and shuts the ringer off, then kicks his shoes off to the side and sits down on the ground before the couch with his back to Nathan. He’s positioned by his pelvis in a way that allowed him the ability to both see Nathan’s face in full if he wanted, but also turn away and give Nathan privacy if necessary.

Nathan watches him the entire time, only looking more and more exhausted as Warren moves through the actions. Warren can hear his fingers fiddling with something, probably from his pocket, from just behind Warren’s head once he’s seated, and for a moment the want to stop him flashes in his mind.

Something always had to be moving when it came to Nathan. Maybe it made everything else easier to deal with, the fact he could control something as everything happened around him, but movement was to Nathan as obscure references were to Warren: it’s just part of who they were. Most of the time, the repetitive motions sparked some sort of anxiety in Warren and he would stop Nathan from jiggling his leg or clicking his pen or doing whatever he was doing absentmindedly as he worked or talked (and he’d move onto another motion, but the change reset the feeling in Warren, so it worked out for a while), but he couldn’t bring himself to do it this time. So, he forces himself to ignore it.

Nathan sighs, a soft noise that pulls Warren from falling into his thoughts as he was becoming more and more prone to doing, and Warren glances up to meet Nathan’s red-rimmed eyes. Nathan’s eyes search him tiredly, but they have that look in them that Warren has come to associate with the wars Nathan sometimes had in his own head. Warren knew the best thing to do was to wait it out and let Nathan decide when to say anything, but, apparently, Nathan didn’t want to follow the usual rules this time.

“It makes it real,” Nathan whispers suddenly, surprising Warren. He’d come looking for Nathan on instinct, more to be there to make sure he wasn’t harmed more than to actually talk about anything. Nathan wasn’t a talker—not in this sense. This, what he was doing now, was unexpected. “There wasn’t a body before,” Nathan continues slowly, and Warren’s attention on him is rapt. “There wasn’t anything, only pictures, only Jefferson’s—” Nathan cuts himself off, then goes abruptly silent. Warren puts the pieces together himself, unable to bring himself to push Nathan into explaining more.

There had always been a chance what Jefferson said hadn’t been true. That Rachel had actually gotten away and been in hiding, gone for the time being but always with a chance that she could one day resurface and prove Jefferson’s lie wrong.

But the discovery of her body solidified the fact that she was never coming back, and that Jefferson had been telling the truth the whole time. The fact that he wasn’t as much of a liar as they wanted him to be. That, sometimes, he told the truth, and the hard part was figuring out which of his words were real when you didn’t want to believe them at all.

Jefferson really had killed Rachel, and the bars and life sentence he’d received in return weren’t sufficient payment for what he’d taken from them.

Warren’s eyes meet Nathan’s again and he nods once in understanding. Somehow, it proves to be too much.

Nathan makes a noise of broken frustration and smothers his wordless voice in the palms of his hands. Something in Warren breaks in turn, and, without thinking of it, his hand lifts and curls behind him to pull the hem of Nathan’s shirt between his fingers. The gesture is so instinctually small—precise and executed in a way that would keep Nathan from automatically pushing him away or startling in his state—that Warren realizes, once the fabric’s securely in his grip, that maybe he was starting to understand the chaotic mystery that was Nathan Prescott after all.

The silence is easier when it falls again, and Warren keeps his gaze on Nathan until he pulls his hands from his face and returns the look Warren didn’t realize he was expressing, the color of his irises stark against the red of his eyes even in the dim lighting of the room. They don’t say anything to one another, but Nathan crosses his arms loosely over his torso, and the brush of his fingers against Warren’s curled ones is a form of acceptance in Warren’s attempt at comfort that Warren didn’t know he was looking for until hit had been given to him.

His heart thumps hard in his chest in response—a specific feeling he hadn’t felt since that day he’d woken up to find the storm surely passed, and he has to blink to himself in a mixture of confusion and surprise for a moment over it. Nathan has both his eyebrows raised in question when Warren manages to look at him again, but Warren only shakes his head quickly. Of course, that does nothing to ease Nathan’s curiosity, but Warren doesn’t really care. He wouldn’t be able to explain whatever the thumping thing was if he tried.

Warren leans his head back against the couch and averts his gaze to the ceiling, and, after a beat, Nathan follows suit. They stay like that for a good while, Warren thinks, because before long his ass starts to go numb from sitting in one position on the hard floor and his neck feels like it’s starting to kink. Finally, he lifts his head up and sighs.

“What time is it?” Nathan asks, and Warren looks first to the clock Nathan keeps on the wall, only to realize it isn’t there. When he pulls his phone out to check that way, however, he’s greeted with a half dozen missed calls and more missed texts from Max.

“Shit,” Warren hisses softly, opening the text thread for Max. Nathan moves behind him, sitting up, and peers at the phone in Warren’s grip. The texts are all Warren asking him where the hell he is, which is completely unlike Max, even when she’s in a panic.

“Price,” is all Nathan says, his breath ghosting along the back of Warren’s neck, and, for the first time, Warren can hear the hurt in Nathan’s voice when he says her name. Not hurt for himself, but for Chloe.

“I have to call her back. Crap.” Warren scrambles to his feet, already pulling up Max’s number to do so. Nathan looks up at Warren from his position on the couch. “Just—shit, I don’t have—I’ll be right back. My charger isn’t in here and I’m running out of juice. I’ll—I’ll be right—”

“Just go, Graham,” Nathan cuts in. “I’ll be okay for the five damn seconds you’ll be gone.”

Warren looks at him for a beat, his phone clasped tightly in his grip, and then nods and turns to leave the room without bothering with his shoes.

He’s barely thrown the door open and made it over the threshold when Chloe appears out of nowhere and grabs him, pivoting him away and up against his own door with the dull thud of flesh on wood. Warren knows he’d yelped, but it had been in surprise, not pain. Chloe might have just slammed him up against a door, but she’d done so without actually hurting him.

“Chloe—” Warren starts in surprise, and immediately the pressure she’d been using to anchor him against the door goes away. She stills holds him by his arms, her chest heaving as if she’d run to Blackwell, but he could break away if he’d really wanted to.

Almost immediately following the noise of Warren’s collision with the door, Nathan appears in his doorway, hands gripping the doorframe like he’s going to tear it off and his stance telling Warren he’d been ready to take down whomever had ambushed Warren before he’d even made it to his own room. He doesn’t relax as soon as he notices it’s Chloe—but he doesn’t push further out the door, nor does he say a word. He waits, like Max does just beyond Chloe’s shoulder, and Warren is left to Chloe’s devices on his own.

Chloe’s face is a mess of color—red eyes and splotchy cheeks from crying, dirt smeared along the corner of her jaw and a bruise purpling just beneath it, strands of blue hair stuck by the adhering effect of her tears. The sight makes Warren’s heart ache, even as Chloe clutches onto Warren’s shoulders like she’s going to collapse without him to hold her up.

“Tell me Graham,” she rasps, her voice hard as steel beneath the tarnish of her raw throat, “tell me you couldn’t save her, no matter what you did. Tell me she was dead from the start. Tell me you didn’t just let her die.”

Warren considers her bloodshot eyes, the blue of her irises so starkly contrasted against the red that Nathan’s eyes momentarily flash in Warren’s mind, a resemblance he’d seen too many times to count, and then he raises his hand to cover one of hers. Her nails dig into his shirt in response, but he doesn’t waver. This was the truth, and this he could manage. “There was nothing I could do,” he tells her slowly. “Nothing, Chloe. I—reset after she’d already been gone. I’m sorry.”

Chloe’s eyes bore into Warren’s unblinkingly. Then, something manifests in her expression, and she nods once, curtly, and releases Warren. Max rushes forward, grabbing Chloe’s arm, but Chloe shakes her head and turns to leave without another word. Max watches her pass, then spins on her heel and follows. Warren’s left to watch them leave together, and not once do either of them look back. The moment they’re out the door, Warren presses his face into his hands and takes a shaky but deep breath.

“Were you lying?” Nathan’s voice comes from beside him. Warren drops his hands to find he hadn’t moved from his doorway.

“Of course I wasn’t,” Warren replies quietly. He looks at Nathan like he can’t believe he was questioning him, too. “Do you really think I’d have just let Jefferson have her if I could have stopped it?”

Nathan blinks, but he doesn’t even give himself a moment consider the idea. “No,” he says immediately, which relaxes something in Warren. “No, I don’t.”

And, with that, Warren realizes that Nathan trusts him just as much as Warren trusts Nathan for the first time. Enough to accept, without hesitation, that Warren would have done anything to save who he could.

It was a lot of trust. Warren thinks he should feel something like relief or happiness at earning something from Nathan Prescott, but all he feels is undeserving of it, because, while it was absolutely true, something about it just felt untruthful.

He wouldn’t have let Rachel die if he could have saved her—but what if her death had caused the end of it? What if Kate’s had? Or Nathan’s himself?

Would Warren have let them die just to keep time from forever repeating itself?

No, he asserts to himself firmly. I wouldn’t have. Death wasn’t worth it.

But … was it?

He had no way of knowing just how true that was. He can only hope he wouldn’t have traded a life for freedom, even at the most desperate of times.

All he can do now is make sure Nathan’s trust is never misplaced.

That much he’s pretty sure he can do.