#They cut out the majority of the song. with Non-Breath's cover. So it just really felt incomplete

[doushiteworld]

Wonderlands x Showtime I love you so much.

Hi! The cover is good I think, yeah they retuned Miku and pitched it down but like, we knew that was going to happen and you know what? They made it work, retuned Miku doesn't sound absolutley out-of-place like she did in Nightcord's Non-Breath! And the pitch-down didn't make the song sound bad like it did with the Saki + Tsukasa cover of Cosmospice!

They kept up with the energy of the original song, especially Emu, Emu fits PinocchioP's energy so well, also the 3D MV,,,is good! It's really good! I'm really happy it's good! I try to give a pass to MV's that don't think are that great because because it's hard. I could criticise Nightcord's MV for being bad and boring but like. They were never gonna live up to the absolutely gorgeous intricate fast original 2D MV. It would be an unfair criticism to make. But I am happy the MV for this cover is good

They should have WxS cover most of the PinocchioP songs they want they're like. Good. At them.

[svchengss]

king of hearts | d.sc

PAIRING. dong sicheng x reader

GENRE. high school!au, fluff, slight angst, kind of e2l

WARNINGS. none (lmk if i missed any!)

WORD COUNT. 6.7k

SUMMARY. sicheng’s subtle flirts are not working effectively but it only motivates him to try and woo you more. the devil sure works hard but dong sicheng works harder.

PLAYLIST. king of hearts

TAGLIST. @floraljae @clovdless @mashiihearts @ndr1271 @kunrengui (shoutout to mashi for being a major help in the process of writing this <3)

// just to let you guys know, reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !! thank you for reading :D

music was blaring through the multiple loudspeakers scattered around the school grounds, booths of various interests that were set-up by the clubs being swarmed by visitors and ecstatic oohs and aahs from the ones playing games can be heard intermittently. the annual school festival of redlands high, an event that is looked forward to by every single student there. or maybe not, you’re quite unsure of the self-made data.

you immediately made a beeline to the dance club booth which is managed by yangyang, the president also holding the title of your best friend. a cartoonish grin crept up on his face when he spots you walking towards him.

“so, what do you think? looks legit, huh?” he crossed his arms together, observing the design of the booth with a proud smile. the set-up is definitely eye-catching, not much decorations going on, adding to the simplicity of the white theme with gold touch-ups. you browsed through the plastered posters on the board, inviting people to sign up for their upcoming audition. looking up to the signboard hanging outside, you showed a thumbs up towards him, muttering a quick ‘perfect’.

“so what exactly is your booth doing? there’s not much… activity going on?” you scratched the non-existent itch on your left eyebrow. the boy in front of you gave you an eye roll before explaining that there will be mini dance games - or just dance as he worded. an amused sound left your lips as you bent down, dropping your signature in the guestbook on the wooden table.

“are you coming to the stage shows tonight? i heard there’s a new band performing,” your ears perked up instinctively upon hearing the words. after your sister graduated high school, nobody paid any attention to keep the band going. the zikas, a trio that made the music club strive back then. either the newer batches were too lazy to make an effort or too scared if they weren’t up to the already high standards of the school.

“i’m going if you’re going,” you simply stated, which made yangyang flash you the same grin from before. you said your simple goodbyes when people started lining up to try the just dance game at his booth. after he reminded you to wait for him by the statue, you went off to check out the food sales, eager to fill your growling stomach since this morning.

you can do this, sicheng. you can do this.

he made sure to double check the tuning of his guitar for one last time before joining the rest of his bandmates on the stage. his tall and slim physique surely left an impact, seeing that some of the audience suddenly became more invested in the performance compared to the others. he’s wearing some band’s shirt - probably green day since it’s quite similar to your sister’s posters in her room, black leather jacket and his black hair middle parted. not to miss the silver pendant necklace on his neck, sparkling under the spotlight.

the moment he struck the pick through the strings of his electric guitar, the drummer and bassist followed after, producing a melody that is pleasing to your ears. he held the microphone closer to his mouth, singing the lyrics as you bobbed your head up and down to the covers they sang - american idiot and helena are the ones you recognized since you’ve heard the songs so often. yangyang on the other hand kept on sipping the chocolate milkshake in his hand, vibing with the music as well.

the next song was a sentimental one which you assumed is a self-composed one, since you’ve never heard this song before. before you know it, the performance is over and the audience have started packing up their belongings to hang out somewhere else or go home.

“good job everyone, we did well,” yuta, who played the bass earlier, high-fived the rest of the band with a sly grin on his face. guanheng chugged the mineral water down his throat before stashing his drumsticks into the bag while sicheng was lost in his thoughts. he doesn’t know why but you stood out from the crowd, only able to see you just now. he wouldn’t say it’s a crush, not knowing anything about you but it definitely made him feel something. a trigger in his heart, not knowing where it leads to. but what he does know is that you caught his attention.

“and you know what he said? i’ll come back crawling to him just like his other exes. what the heck is even that?” you took out the binders from your locker while listening to ningning rant about her love life. since you haven’t had any relationships before, you’re not really a professional in this aspect of life so you just kept your mouth shut to avoid giving useless advice.

“that sounds so rude, he’s such a jerk,” you commented, taking the first bite of your sandwich afterwards. the tea-spilling session eventually came to an end when she reached her class first and you kept walking to mrs. walker’s, english being your first period. nothing exciting really happened in that class except someone got their phone confiscated for texting in class - just the usual things. classes later, it’s finally recess when you met up with ningning and yangyang in the cafeteria.

“first of all, cut him off. block him. everywhere,” yangyang emphasized the last word, knowing how much of an idiot the guy can be. you just scrolled through your socials, double tapping on certain posts that caught your eye. owning a cat looks fun, you made a mental note to bring the idea to your parents later. the bell rang which signals that classes are starting back soon and the same cycle of events continues before it’s time to go home.

you observed yangyang’s sharp moves, following to the beat of the song echoing in the dance room. it’s currently half past seven and he’s still here, beads of sweat running through his hair. and why would he stay in school so late, you may ask? obviously, he’s here for a reason and it being an upcoming dance tournament is the most accurate one. while you’re here, sitting on the floor, back against the mirror and legs straightened out with your phone in your hand. it amazes you how the goofy boy transforms 360°, being all serious when he’s in his element.

“let’s go home, i’m tired already,” he panted out breathlessly, using a cloth nearby to wipe his sweaty forehead. you wait for him by the glass door as he packs up his things when the lights in the music studio also switched off. you wondered it must be the band guys so you paid no attention whatsoever. of course, your predictions were right when you saw two lads stepping out.

since yangyang is taking too much time tidying up the dance studio and the music studio seems unoccupied, you decided to check it out for a bit. it’s been a long time since you last entered the room, always accompanying your sister for her extra practice when you were younger. not much has changed, except some additions of instruments can be seen. not seeing anything in the dark condition as the room is only illuminated by the faint lights from the hallway, you pushed the switches down only to be met by a gasp.

“what are you doing here?” the tall boy approached you, a stern look visible on his fine features. your eyes scrambled around the room in an attempt to find any logical excuses for your ‘break-in’ but to no avail. your tongue was dry, not a sound escaping your throat when you heard yangyang’s voice, signalling your cue to exit the room and escape from the tension building between you and the boy. he just shook his head, the black hair bouncing left to right as he finally caught on.

it’s you, you’re the girl from the crowd. and your name is y/n.

the walk home was filled with one-sided conversations where yangyang kept on babbling about how he should improve the choreography he created earlier while you only added small comments. your mind is filled with embarrassment, too much that you feel slightly mad at yourself. why didn’t you say anything earlier? now, you look like a complete idiot with communication issues in front of that boy.

“yeah, and remember that pasta? we should definitely try it again, it’s like, so good,” yangyang said, earning a nod from you when you saw the boy from last night’s music studio tragedy approaching your table. you tried to look away but it was too late.

“dude, just wanna let you know that mr. park is seeing us after school,” your grip on your fork loosens up when you realized he wasn’t talking to you. maybe he forgot about the incident? you really hope so.

“yeah, totally. thanks sicheng,” yangyang playfully winked at the latter, earning a disgusted look from him who started walking away. he glanced back at you with a smug smile on his plump lips, making you freeze up again.

he didn’t.

“are you okay, y/n? feeling sick?” ningning furrowed her eyebrows upon seeing your sudden change of demeanor. you shrugged her off and continued to consume the macaroni placed on the tray in front of you, mentally cursing at yourself for the poor life choice you’d made. well, at least you know that his name is sicheng, right?

oh boy, you’re in for a long ride.

you can’t wait to go home and snuggle under the covers, today has been a long and tiring one for you. you had three pop quizzes as if all the three teachers intended so, your class had to run multiple laps during p.e. and so on. you’re already planning your routine in your head, trudging your way to the lockers when you saw him leaning against yours, scrolling down his phone.

“crap,” you muttered under your breath.

there it is, the smirk on his face returns when he spots your figure approaching. oh, how you wish you could wipe it off his face. he moved a couple steps backwards to give you some space to arrange your things before locking it, turning your head towards him.

“i’m sorry, why are you here again? and if it’s because of last night, then i’m sorry if it bothered you or anything,” you huffed out.

“what? i didn’t really care, it’s not like you were stealing anything, right?” he squinted his eyes, eyeing you up and down suspiciously, laughing shortly after seeing you get riled up.

“damn, you really need to learn how to take a joke. y/n, right? i’m sicheng, nice to meet you.”

“why exactly are we having this meet-and-greet or whatever this introduction is?” you crossed your arms, waiting for his response. but he didn’t, immediately turning on his heels and making his way towards the stairs, probably going to the studio.

“jerk,” you cursed under your breath, walking out the school building.

“what? you got accepted? seriously?” ningning’s voice echoed against the cafeteria walls, earning surprised and annoyed glances from other students who were either satisfying their grumbling stomach or simply having conversations. yangyang softly nudged her elbows using his, asking her to lower her voice down before telling you to go on. you were quite surprised as well, the acceptance email was not what you expected to receive. when you filled in the application form, it was just a mere shoot-your-shot agenda to see if you’d make the cut. although this is just a camp, you’re still unsure of what lies ahead.

“yeah, it starts next week. but i’m so nervous though,” you sipped the iced coffee in your hands. you’ve only watched videos of people producing their own music from scratch which you start to take an interest in. however, you’ve never done it hands-on before, only having basic music theory knowledge thanks to the piano lessons your parents signed you up for when you were young.

“you’ll do awesome, i promise,” yangyang gave you a reassuring smile, making you release some tension from the overthinking you’ve had since you received the email last night.

“thanks yang.”

now, here you are on the first day of attending the internship camp. you stood in front of the tall mirror hanging on the wall, straightening your cardigan and applying some makeup onto your face as touch-ups. it’s currently 7:40 in the morning, the earliest time you’ve ever woken up on a saturday. your siblings are still swallowed in their states of sleep. you double-checked the contents in your tote bag, making sure that no important things are left behind. you totally don’t intend on leaving a bad first impression on your first day.

after bidding a swift goodbye to your parents who just woke up, you drove your mother’s old honda to the completely new destination - mbyte studios. the tall building with light grey and blue painted walls definitely made it stand out, a futuristic look catching the eyes of the passersby. taking a deep breath, you entered the main lobby before being escorted to a room on the second floor. you assume it’s a waiting room for all participants of the camp, scanning that majority of the occupiers might be college students. you thanked god that the camp takes place on weekends so your high school senior life won’t be interrupted that much.

DAY 1

your eyes widened when you spot sicheng with the same white and blue tag you’re wearing, seated on the sofa. what the hell is he doing here? you avoided acknowledging his presence, trying to make yourself as unnoticed as possible heading over to occupy the seat farthest from his. after quite some time staring at the paintings hanging on the wall, a middle-aged lady with a petite figure entered the room, making you sit up straight.

“welcome to mbyte studios! i’m the assistant director, mrs. hwang. first and foremost, congratulations on being accepted. it’ a pleasure to witness the start of your musical journey embarking here. i believe that we should know each other first?” she gestured for any volunteers. sicheng stood up from his seat, charisma evident in his stance which left quite an impression on the others. the strong confidence in the way he speaks made the woman smile amusingly.

some names later, it was your turn to introduce yourself. the moment you stood up, he immediately recognized you and you were sure you caught him making some faces. the ice-breaking session went well thankfully, mrs. hwang elaborating on the social rules and the itinerary throughout the whole six days. one that caught your attention was assisting the producers on making a track from scratch, just like you had dreamed of.

when it was finally time for lunch break, you shot up from your seat to get away from sicheng as fast as possible but to your dismay, he beat you to it, jogging up towards your standing position.

“i didn’t know you were into music, what’s the sudden occasion?”

“it’s none of your business actually,” you sneered back, obviously not favouring his attention.

“woah, relax. you’ve got quite a temper, don’t you? by the way, we’re having lunch together,” he placed his phone onto a nearby table, pulling a chair for you.

“just eat on your own, i don’t have the appetite,” you flash a sarcastic grin before disappearing into the women’s restroom. he just laughed bitterly at your response before walking towards the food counter, joining his newly made friend, jaehyun. being the same age, they’re easy to click.

DAY 2

“today, we’ll be focusing on the recording process. you’ll be assigned into groups that will have a tour of the whole department. our staff will facilitate each group,” the manager said loud and clear. you remembered his name was johnny. the tattoo on his shoulder really stands out, considering the fact that he’s always wearing a sleeveless shirt.

but what are the odds when your groupmate is none other than the guy himself, sicheng. it’s like the universe truly resented you for having to be associated with him at any event. your group was escorted to the farthest recording studio on the floor. to say that this was a great experience is truly an understatement, making you observe the gears used in astonishment. you hate to admit it but sicheng has a handful of knowledge on this particular topic, always correctly answering the questions directed by the staff. maybe it wasn’t quite surprising upon knowing that his career choice is a singer, not that you care anyways.

again, nothing out of the ordinary happened today, except that you and sicheng had lunch on the same table. of course, it’s not that you accepted his offer but he welcomed himself to the spot. being the quickly favoured participant among the rest, obviously they welcomed him with open hands. he placed himself among the two guys sitting at the right corner, eyeing you whose eyes are still not leaving the article you were skimming through. with the last spoon of food shoved into your mouth, you quietly excused yourself from the group. sicheng just watched your movements in subtle signs of annoyance.

with the final task of doing microphone check-ups, day two of the camp ended with a breeze. you can’t wait to go home, get into a warm bath and spend the night watching netflix. it was a tiring one indeed but you’re not one to complain. pushing the car keys into the ignition slot, the sound of the engine starting is still nowhere to be heard even after a couple of retries. you rested your forehead onto the steering wheel, cursing silently in your head, having to get a taxi and call your mother about this incident. you’re sure to be receiving a handful from her, not to mention her soft but stingful remarks.

“hey, are you okay?” a deep voice interrupts your stressful state of mind. looking up, it’s sicheng with a concerned look on display. you hesitantly shared your problem, making him press his lips together probably thinking of a solution.

“you know, i don’t really know how to fix your broken engine or whatever but i know someone who can. let me just ring him for a sec. and you’re coming home with me.”

and that’s how you ended up in the front passenger seat, sicheng steering with one hand and the other rested on the windowsill. the faint music from the radio can be heard, probably a song by jon vinyl. you’d steal quick glances to see his other hand dancing in the air, enjoying the rhythm of the song playing. besides that, it was silent as both of you are preoccupied with your own things - sicheng on the road while you on your phone. he tried to make small talk but you would say it’s unrequited, only replying with short sentences. after a good ten minutes drive, the sight of your brown painted gate becomes a sign for him to stop the moving car.

“your car is safe with my friend so you shouldn’t worry about it or anything. also, what’s your number? it’ll be easier for, you know the car business of course,” he reached over to unbuckle your seatbelt, handing over his phone to you after. the close proximity made your breath hitch, the dewy scent of his perfume diffusing into your nose. not too strong, he has a good taste.

“thanks and um, i’ll buy you a drink later. just for today.”

“are you asking me on a date?” there it is, the significant tug on the side of his lips making its presence once again.

“stop being so narcissistic and move along please,” you rolled your eyes before giving him a small wave, stepping into your property. sicheng stared at the numerals on his phone screen, a small, proud grin etched on before driving off the lane.

“how was the camp? met any cute boys?” the first thing you hear in the hue of the blue monday morning is ningning’s chirpy voice. sometimes you wonder how she gets all boosted up at this hour of the day. yangyang is the polar opposite, his appearance as if he just got out of bed, the hood of his denim jacket resting on top of his auburn hair.

“it was good and no, no cute boys. but sicheng was there,” you replied nonchalantly, a mischievous grin crept onto her lips. you can almost predict the words that are going to spill out of her mouth.

“what’s up with her?” yangyang yawned, his eyes lazily gaze at you. you just lifted your shoulders, having no idea whatsoever. a ping sound was heard from your phone, notifying that a new message is received.

unknown: hey sicheng here

unknown: ur car may be ready tmr. want me to drive u there?

listening to your heart, you were about to type ‘no’ but remembering the fact that your parents will be busy the whole day tomorrow and yangyang is coming home late once again, you have no choice but to accept the lad’s help.

now you’re back in his vehicle, the same spot as before. you’ve only noticed now that a musical note charm is hung on the rearview mirror, a semiquaver to be exact. you’d say that it looks authentic, gold specks shining when sun rays hit the surface. observing the interior of his car, there are quite a number of small decorations.

“can we get coffee first? my treat for the car and the ride,” you suggested, looking at him whose eyes are focused onto the road. the traffic is quite pleasing today, nobody honking mindlessly at the other drivers and flipping each other off with the famous middle finger gesture. his side profile does look charming, some type of earrings dangling from his ears. if you’re going to be honest, his appearance does seem to be your type. you’re not one to say about his persona though, always managing to bother you at any time of the day.

“sure, wanna go to the new cafe? i heard it’s good,”. you just nodded while he skillfully steered the steering wheel, moving the car to the new destination. you turned your eyes to look outside from the car window, seeing the one hundred and one manners of the citizens. a mother struggling to take her child who’s having a tantrum out of the toy shop, a young couple having their romantic meal in the french cafe. the motion of the car stopping awakened you who was being distracted by your clouded mind.

from the moment you stepped into the place, the interior caught your attention. the light brown painted walls with black furniture complementing each other perfectly, making a retro-like appearance. the funky song playing faintly in the background surely is a mood-setter, just how you like it. even the barista serving you is being friendly, making a couple of small talk in the midst of operating the machines.

you would say that it was a pleasureful day for you. the exquisite taste of latte washing down your dry throat, getting your car back without too much babbling from your dear mother and the gap between you and sicheng closing in for a little.

the last sentence baffled you for a second.

DAY 3

sicheng’s eyes shot open from the short slumber he was trying to get - failing miserably even, upon spotting you enter through the door. he pulled the chair beside him in hopes for you to get his message and take the seat. a frown made its way onto his face when you just waved at him, making your way to another spot a few chairs to the front. he scoffed, head tilting slightly before approaching you instead. you shot him a puzzled look, roughly translating to ask him what he’s doing here.

“i just want to be close to you. now focus,” he redirected his eyes onto the muscular man who just entered the room. he’s a songwriter - the best one in this company to be exact. you were focused on each point he explained, making small notes on your laptop. it’s not always that you’ll get a chance to be guided by a four-time award winning songwriter, might as well gain some benefits from it.

“another tip i have is to use all types of chords. remember, do not stick to the same ones, you’ll lack creativity. for instance, use major, minor, dominant, diminished, and augmented. i promise you, more ideas will be flowing and better quality songs will be produced. you got me?” the questioned, earning buzzing sounds of positive responses from the hall.

DAY 4

another day of group work, you’re given the task to create a melody according to the themes given - for your group, it’s love. looking at sicheng, he’s already on his electric guitar, strumming mindlessly to find the perfect note to start on. the rest of you are now juicing out some thoughts on this particular sense of human nature.

“love gives us thrill, the feeling of excitement, the feeling when you’re uncertain about something but when you have that special someone with you, you’re sure to wing it all,” jaehyun suggests, earning nods of approval from the rest of your groupmates.

“you’re a pro at this, mr. romantic,” you teased him, earning a soft chuckle. a dimpled smile is etched onto his features, rosy cheeks and his eye smile making you fawn. prince-like visual and a sense of humour? a two in one package, totally.

“not really. i guess i’m a sucker for romance movies,” he rubbed the back of his neck. your small conversation came to a halt when you heard a crooked, loud sound coming from the rough strum on the guitar strings. you turned around to see sicheng gazing directly towards the both of you, a sharp one even. jaehyun just blinked his eyes before catching onto the situation unfolding in front of him while you’re still being completely oblivious. you tilted your head in confusion, unsure of what’s gotten into him.

it’s the day that yangyang has been looking forward to since the past few weeks, his dance tournament. you’re seated with ningning on the bleachers, music from the loudspeakers echoing through the walls. with the cheers of the bewatchers whenever someone captivated them with a trick or dance move, usually the risky ones, it truly is a loud atmosphere.

“now, welcoming contestant number 43 to take the stage,” the host announced, you and ningning clapped with all your might, shouting words of encouragement as well. yangyang took a deep breath before lifting his right hand up, cueing for the music to start playing. just then, there’s the sound of someone plopping down on the hard surface next to you - sicheng. he’s looking casual today, a light yellow hoodie replacing his usual dark clothings.

“what are you doing here?” you shout whispered while ningning raised her eyebrows at you.

“didn’t yangyang tell you? i’m here to watch him dance,” he countered your question before darting his eyes back to the boy who’s busy popping on the dance floor, tinashe’s song playing in the background. he ended his routine with a moonwalk, making his way to the end of the stage. you’re confident that he’s going to win the competition, looking at how precise and clean his moves were. all the late night practices he had eventually paid off when he’s announced as the second placer. nonetheless, he’s still proud of himself, not to mention you and ningning who have been with him throughout his whole journey.

“you did well,” sicheng welcomed him with a fist bump which he reciprocated back. you didn’t know that they were this good of friends.

“i’m starving,” he rubbed his hand onto his stomach, making you remember that your stomach has been rumbling since you only ate a cereal bar that morning. you were about to catch up to yangyang and ningning who were walking fast ahead when you felt a tug on your shirt, looking down to see sicheng crouching down to tie your loose shoelaces.

“you might fall,” he placed his hands into the pockets of his hoodies, waiting for you to come along.

“um, thanks,” you muttered out before catching the glances given by your friends, later teasing you about the scene.

roars of students can be heard coherently, filling the basketball court. the basketball captain, a tall one with black charcoal hair is shooting a three-pointer. the players are then called over to their respective sides for whatever strategy their coaches will be implementing in the third-quarter. the home team is currently leading by five points, knowing that the players wearing the significant red and black jersey have been training their asses off for a while now.

but why exactly did you come to the game tonight? besides from the main event happening in the moment, the other reason is now standing in his position, strumming his electric guitar producing a funky sound that vibrates through the walls - a cue for the start of another buzzing stage. sicheng has been bugging you about watching him perform tonight and after quite some time evaluating, why not? when he finally caught you among the crowd, he flashed you a flirtatious wink. right before the band bowed as gratitude to the audience, he gave you a gesture to wait for him at the back of the gym.

“you came! but seriously, thank you,” he rested the sparkly white guitar against the wall, enveloping you into a hug. this is new, you tried to hide the flustered state of yours as you reciprocated his movement. from the corner of your eyes, you can see a black-haired guy approaching the two of you, followed by one with long, white hair and a bandana nicely keeping the fluffy strands in tact.

“ooh, who’s this?” the first one wiggled his eyebrows, later introducing himself as guanheng, the latter named yuta. to your surprise, the bond between you and them are quick to form with guanheng piloting the conversation. not to mention his subtle jokes making you giggle at times.

“well y/n, your little boyfriend here is getting jealous so we’ll excuse ourselves for now. see you whenever,” guanheng banging his drumsticks into the air while yuta gave you a quick wave before disappearing into the store room of the gymnasium. the nickname they gave sicheng surely made you a bit shy.

boyfriend?

DAY 5

you’re seated in front of the computer screen, your chin resting on the palm of your hands and the tabs of different colours left untouched. you redirected your gaze onto the projector screen, the words ‘arrange, mix, edit and master like a pro’ on it. a long sigh leaving your lips, you try to remember what the producer said earlier.

don’t make the song sound too repetitive

a good buildup promises a good melody

you can have a certain instrument playing only on one part for cinematic impact

DAY 6

“i’m hyo and you’re,” she moved the wheels of her chair to the back a bit to take another look at the clipboard resting on the desk, “sicheng, y/n and jaehyun, right?” the three of you nodded in harmony, anticipating for the next order that will be given.

“okay cool, we’ll be brainstorming first,” and she proceeded to explain what the requirements for this project are. you mouthed out the important points she gave, soft rock, heartbreak and drums. you’re on a roll today, contributing your countless ideas during the first few minutes of the discussion. sicheng just looked at you discussing with hyo, your lips pursed slightly. his gaze seems full of adoration, even jaehyun said so.

“any objections?” hyo looked over to the rest.

“i think she made some great ones. i’m sure this project will come out fresh,” jaehyun voiced out his opinions, sicheng nodding after. he went straight to handling the instruments , you and jaehyun collaborating for the mixing process. hyo eventually chimed in on some times, giving small advice whenever you seem stuck in the brain. with the hours ticking by, you’re feeling more satisfied than ever with your earphones in, listening to the final product created.

all of the participants are then assembled in the hall again, waiting for a final speech by the director which formalizes the end of the camp. sure, you’ve earned worthy knowledge throughout the six days. but if you’re being brutally true to the sound of your heart, it would be how you came to learn sicheng’s true antics. he might be the cocky guy who thinks they have the power to do anything but in truth, he’s just some guy with an honest heart, honest intentions to know you better.

summer break, your most anticipated event for the past few weeks. the moment the last bell rang, that scene in high school musical 2 kept replaying in the back of your head, the students doing a parade in front of the lockers picturing how your little heart is doing backflips in your chest right now. all the beach trips ningning planned is making you feel dizzy. you turned around to a voice calling out your name from the end of the hallway, your eyes catching the sight of sicheng jogging towards your spot. he stopped in front of you, hands on his knees catching his breath.

“are you free tomorrow night? there’s a party at guanheng’s and you know, it would be really cool if you join,” his fingers tracing onto each other, waiting patiently for your response.

you didn’t even have the time to process his invitation when ningning crashed her body against yours, yangyang following suit.

“a party? y/n would totally love to come, right?” ningning nudged your arms softly while yangyang tried to stifle a giggle. you were about to mouth out a ‘what?’ before sicheng cut you off.

“cool, you guys should come too. tomorrow at 10,” he and yangyang exchanged finger guns gestures before leaving the three of you. you just stood there in disbelief, eyeing them up and down before ningning dragged you to the parking lot. a stringful of grumbles escaped your lips, making the guy laugh obnoxiously.

“i can’t believe you guys did that,” you extended the seat belt, buckling it to the slot beside you.

“please. but you do want it, right?” you can’t deny, what she said was true. plus, you should have some fun and distress before having to go back to the usual dull routine of yours.

“how do i look?” you turn around, revealing the baby pink crop top and flare pants on your legs. it’s not your best outfit but giving the cliche excuse - you have nothing to wear, the two articles totally complements each other

“you look hot, that’s all i gotta say. right, yang?” ningning lifted her head from the headboard, glancing over at yangyang who’s going over his messages.

“yeah totally,” he lifted his hands, giving you a thumbs up. you threw a jacket onto your shoulders and grabbed the black purse on your dresser, glancing at the wall mirror one last time.

from the moment you stepped into the venue - guanheng’s place, smells of alcohol lingered around your nose, a group of people cheering ever so loudly over a game of beer pong, some already passed out on the couch. not to mention a brownish stain on the carpet - probably from someone throwing up. the mess would take a whole day to get rid off, you note to yourself. your friends are no longer to be found, both of them getting affiliated with god knows what. your eyes scanned the living room for sicheng but his presence is still nowhere to be found.

you decided to step towards the kitchen bar, pouring a drink for yourself. the mixed sweet and sour taste of it remained on your tongue for a couple of seconds. looking over at the snacks served, you grabbed a strawberry flavoured lollipop from the clear bowl. the crowd is cheering loudly for some type of incident happening at the back of the room, the music has been turned up to be a little louder than the volume before and you’re suddenly getting a little bit overwhelmed. you grabbed your purse and stepped out, inhaling some fresh air and looking up to the starry night sky.

“y/n? where have you been?” sicheng approached you from behind, making you a bit startled.

“sorry, hanging out outside can calm me. where did you go?” you popped the lollipop into your mouth.

“some jerk decided to throw up in front of me,” you pinched your nose with a disgusted expression, making him roll his eyes.

“do you want me to accompany you out here?” he offered. you just nod your head, placing yourself on the patio with him following suit. the sweetening flavour empowering your senses. it’s definitely much more calm out here, allowing you to clear up your mind. it’s not that you hate the atmosphere in the house right now, you’re just not in the mood.

“you know, you look pretty,” you turned around to meet his face. his brown eyes brimming with unconfessed love.

“shut up, stop with the jokes,” you lightly land a smack on his arms.

“what if i say i’m not joking?” he looked straight into your eyes, trying to find any emotion inside you. the sudden seriousness is making you feel much more awkward so you forced out a laugh, turning your attention right back upwards. the stars are shining brightly tonight, you can almost spot a constellation.

“i know what you’re doing, dong sicheng. just stop it already, it’s not working on me.” denial, that’s what you’re experiencing in the hot minute.

a gentle tug can be felt on your wrist, his eyes still not leaving yours.

“didn’t anyone tell you before? you’re really pretty. like, i can’t even describe it to you. you’re just,” he leaned over to caress your cheeks, “pretty,”.

what jaehyun said on the other day is true, after all.

love gives us thrill, the feeling of excitement, the feeling when you’re uncertain about something but when you have that special someone with you, you’re sure to wing it all.

your heart is beating so fast, it could fall out of your chest at any moment now. even the faint music blasting through the speakers inside the house can’t flush down the sound of your heartbeat. you’re not used to this, the sudden need of the significant skin to skin contact that symbolizes love between two individuals.

“can i?” his face in a very near proximity from yours, whispering into your right ear with his honey-like voice. you pulled the candy away from your mouth and nod, giving him the approval he needed before he dived in. heat rose from your stomach to your chest. you could only focus on how soft his crimson lips felt on yours, invading your privacy by all senses. you felt the kiss expand beyond your bodies, whirling you round, swirling you into the stars. he pulled away with a soft smile, you thought you could melt right then and there.

“wow,” that was the only word escaping your throat. your jumping heart still hasn’t settled down yet, your very first kiss still feeling surreal. you could see that sicheng is very much mirroring your emotions, his slender fingers grazing over his lips - the one that has come in contact with yours.

“the strawberry lollipop is sweet,” he commented, making the both of you laugh.

a ping from your phone awakened you from the gushy eye contact with him, unlocking it only to find yangyang’s text message. the second part of it made you fluster.

yang: yo r u coming in or what? and congrats for the kiss, we thought we’d have to wait longer for this

[chemicalpink]

Lonely Hearts Club ♡ BTS OT7

Pairing: female reader x OT7

Warning: smut. polyamory. kinda voyeurism (? like- how else are you supposed to make an 8 people intercourse work.

A/N: this has a very poor representation of polyamory ok. It actually contains everything that is not how polyamory works, but it’s in favour of the theme. This is my last work for the Electra Heart Series

Summary: January to December, do you wanna be a member? In this Lonely Hearts Club, do you want to be with somebody like us? 

Genre: smut

Word Count: 4.5k

“Where are you going Kookie?” Taehyung called from his spot cuddled on Jimin’s side without really tearing his eyes from the screen as they both watched some movie on the couch, a usual Friday night. 

Jungkook paused for half a second as he made sure he had everything in his pocket before heading to the door “Out”

“Out where?” Jungkook groaned loudly at the questioning, as if it were nothing common within their relationship, determined to extend the silence in the room long enough to be comfortably dismissed from the conversation.

“Out with that girl he has yet to come clean to” Yoongi mentioned as he made his way to the living room, bag of chips in hand and stuffing a few inside his mouth as he did “which by the way, I’ve told him a thousand times before, it’s not decent to keep on leading her on”

“I’m not” the youngest murmured under his breath, which earned him a pointed look from Yoongi, followed by the TV pausing and both of the other men to turn their attention to him “I’m not leading her on”

A hand was placed on his right shoulder from behind, making him startle, wide doe eyes in full display as Seokjin voiced his input in the situation “You’re going out with a girl that we all know likes you while being a relationship, Jungkookie” Seokjin made the most overdramatic pout “I’d say that’s leading her on, plus, placing us second”

Jungkook let out a heavy sigh, already knowing he was about to be very late to the date “You guys all said you were okay with me dating out of the circle”

“You know we’re messing with you, come on, you’ll be late for your date” he’d have to thank Namjoon for always coming to the rescue when Seokjin was being a little bit too much.

If someone was to tell him he would end up in a polyamorous relationship he would have laughed in their face. If someone was to tell him that he would end up in a polyamorous relationship with the six older men he was forced to share his college unit with, he would have crumbled apart right there and then, it was no secret whatsoever that he had the biggest crush on the six of them the moment he first saw them, call it gay panicking or whatever.

And you see, things were going smooth, at least as smooth as they could be when 7 people are dating each other, minus the stares when they went out in public, the questioning of their not so close friends and the constant battle royale when it came down to sleeping arrangements, it was smooth. Until you came along. Sure, after eight months of him joining the polycule, and people unable to think outside their monogamous mindset, a fair number of guys and girls had approached him, which was always meant to go in either of two possible ways:

First, and best, case scenario, they were only interested in a fling, a one night stand that ultimately turns into a somewhat friendly distanced greeting when on campus, it was a thing between the seven men after all, being able to casually date outside the circle and understanding that the strongest emotional bond was with their boyfriends at home, although… Jungkook was the one doing it most often, Jimin following him casually in indulging in the pleasure of casual sex from time to time.

Second, and the hardest scenario due to him having the softest heart (if having Hoseok cutting ties with his potential partners in more than one occasion is anything to go by) is when after the first scenario, people keep trying to get in touch with him, not that there’s anything wrong with it but he wasn’t interested, plus, when he went as far as explaining the whole polyamory situation, people would dismiss it as an non-existent relationship or worse yet, there was a guy that went as far as telling him that all he needed was to be ‘dicked down good enough’ for him to stop being polyamorous; Yoongi had gone and had a friendly talk with the dude when Jungkook went home that night crying (he might have sent the guy to ER but there’s really no way to know)

So really, third case scenario was way out of control for him, said scenario being you. Never asking anything too invasive, hooked up a few times and even made him breakfast one of them which ended up with Jungkook bolting right out of your apartment, thinking that was it and he’d never see you again but boy was he wrong, you had texted him after to make sure he was okay, had the most amazing round of make up sex (could it even be called that when you two didn’t even fight? and it was all just him being a moron?).

So here’s the thing, maybe his heart started picking up when he saw you, maybe he started feeling butterflies when you two made out on your couch, maybe the blurred line between being a casual hook up and falling for you had become no line at all, and soon enough his hyungs started pestering him that he shouldn’t play with your feelings. God how much easier would it be if you were a student at his campus, with the amount of talk about the ‘7 best looking guys being in a polyamorous relationship’ really would have done the trick, so that he could stop the inner fear of losing you that came with owning it up and telling you he was indeed not just bisexual, but in an eight month relationship with 6 guys.

So far, Namjoon had had the most serious talk with him ever since he was invited to join the relationship, then came Yoongi constantly bickering with him as a passive agressive way to get him to come clean, Hoseok aggressively cuddling him while whispering borderline nasty and teasing things to him while Seokjin, Taehyung and Jimin had made it their job to try and gatekeep him from you before any date with the theatrics of non existent jealousy. Deep down he knew it was wrong, so wrong of him to keep such a vital piece of information from you, then again, he couldn’t bear the feeling of seeing you being disgusted for his love choices, polyamory was one hell of a misunderstood topic, often overseen as being greedy and unable to choose. Which was a blatant lie. He had made a choice eight months ago, and it pained him to even think that if the time came, he would have to stand by it. He would choose the six of them all over again. No doubts in his mind he would choose them over you if it came to be like that.

What if he had spent a week bawling his eyes out at night after a date with you and quality time at home, people should mind their own business. And the men he loved the most in the world were proving to be deserving of his love yet again. He had cried one last time after thinking just how much they were meaning to go out of their way to keep Jungkook happy. They had kept him in their best interests when they decided that maybe, prior further consideration and a serious talk involving you and Jungkook, maybe an eight addition wouldn’t be so bad. 

“God I can’t believe we are not only condoning this behaviour but now we are endorsing it” Seokjin mentioned in one of his many overdramatic tones as he and Namjoon placed some delicious looking dishes out in their small backyard where they had all dressed up the place when little Jungkookie announced he was bringing you over.

Namjoon was quick to attempt to calm his boyfriend down while placing a small kiss on his lips “You’re overthinking” 

“Oh, I’m overthinking? How about Mr Jeon Jungkook who apparently can neither keep it in his pants nor grow a pair and tell someone that they are polyamorous, huh?” Namjoon really had to try his hardest not to burst out laughing at the way Seokjin’s words seemed to blend in together as they came out of his mouth in a flow that resembled a rap song “Don’t you try and gaslight me, Namjoon, I’ll have you know, psychology was my major before it was yours” 

“Doctor Kim has a beautiful ring to it” 

Seokjin did not stop a whole minute to stop placing everything out on the table as he kept on bickering with the younger “Don’t try to woo me Kim Namjoon, I know you only like the ring of it because we share the last name” 

Jimin walked out the exact moment they were blasting fiery heart eyes at each other, nothing out of the ordinary in their dynamic, “Seokjin-hyung, Namjoon-hyung, I think she’s here” the youngest of the three lend a hand for the whole table to be set in record time, already hearing an additional female voice that didn’t use to be there before coming from inside “I don’t think Taehyung’s on board with all...this” 

“What do you mean he’s not on board, we talked about it before!” if there was the slightest bit of panic in Namjoon’s eyes, he was one hell of an actor to have it covered up as soon as he sensed Seokjin stiff on his side and the whole room began to feel stuffy even when being outside.

“Tae says he’s not coming down for dinner” Hoseok announced as he popped his head outside “Y/N is talking in the living room with Kookie and Yoongi, she seems nice” before disappearing inside the house.

“I fucking told you all of this would come to bite us in the ass Joonie, eight people is one person too many” may Seokjin’s inability to read eye expressions be damned when Namjoon and Jimin tried to get him to keep his voice down before any more damage was caused.

A mop of black hair popped up from inside just the way Hoseok had done before, startling the three men outside when Jungkook spoke “Hey, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, totally” Jimin tried to fake a smile which ended up being the fakest smile he had ever put on his face, making the youngest squint his eyes at the three of them in a questioning manner, a few seconds away from dismissing it, Seokjin broke 

“Taehyung is not taking part”

“What do you mean Taehyung is not taking part?” Jungkook’s eyes widened almost comically but anyone could see the anxiety and panic rising in them, Namjoon ever the peacemaker in the relationship intervening 

“Tae says he’s backing down, but I’ll have a talk with him and-”

“I’ll do it” Jungkook shook his head as he took off back inside to the opposite side from which he came from; even with the whole uncertainty of the situation, it was sure not to head the right way it should have.

“That sounds lovely, I can just imagine” you said as Namjoon, who had just introduced himself, finished a random story about all seven of them “So.. you all live here together then?”

“Oh yeah, inseparable bond and what not” Seokjin, the oldest of the seven smiled somewhat uncomfortably at you, avoiding any type of direct contact. At first it really seemed to have taken the right turn, chatting with Yoongi and Hoseok after Jungkook left to see if anything else was needed before dinner, but then things started to shift, an unknown but uncomfortable silence filling the room every now and then, the way Jimin couldn’t stop fidgeting in his seat and Seokjin made little to no effort to not show just how uncomfortable he was. Jungkook had mentioned earlier that his housemates could be somewhat weird, without mentioning exactly how, but from the looks of it, it had something to do with dating within themselves. 

“Hey, do you mind if I use your restroom?” 

“Ah sure, upstairs, first door to the left” Yoongi answered with a tight lip smile on his face, everyone’s eyes discreetly following you in silence until your figure couldn’t be seen, probably out of earshot as murmurs took over the living room.

Not that you really needed to use the toilet but it would be nice to splash some cold water in your face if you wanted to even try and survive the rest of the night, but as you reached the end of the stairs, a room across what seemed to be the bathroom caught your attention, snuffling noises coming from the inside, and you really should stick to your own business, but how much weirder could the night go? apparently, exponentially weirder.

You reached the door that was conveniently slightly open, allowing you to take a peek inside, a guy sitting beside Jungkook  on the bed as he rubbed circles in the small of his back at the same time as he whispered things to his ear and you felt a pang in your chest, not really believing the whole sexual tension inside the room, perhaps your mind playing with you; up until the guy clearly nibbled Jungkook’s ear, a breathy moan escaping from his lips, your brain shortcircuiting between not understanding what was going on and finding it extremely hot.

“Tae no, you know I’m going out with Y/N” Jungkook said as the other guy moved around, seemingly placing a hand to his crotch in a playful manner, as far as the smirk in his face but obstruction of bodies allowed you to see from the door.

The guy’s eyes quickly turned to Jungkook in the biggest puppy stare you had ever seen, low voice above a whisper “Having someone around never stopped you before” 

“Please”

A heavier moan escaped from Jungkook’s mouth, hands immediately locking the guy around him as he straddled his hips on the bed “Do you not love us anymore?”

Whether it was whatever that was going on inside between the two of them, or the mention of love, that made you forget your compromising position, getting the feeling that you should stop watching and panicky closed the door, making your presence known, the world may never know, but there were thousands of thoughts running in your mind. Sure, Jungkook had never put a label on your relationship, and from time to time you had believed that perhaps there was something beautiful there, now coming to think of it, maybe his heart had always been occupied, as all those friends of yours that knew him from somewhere had once said to you, how it was the weirdest thing out there watching 7 great looking guys hanging out as if they were on a date, the unusual way they carried around each other. Not that it was bad, but i crushed your heart to know that you would never fit in, as much as you kicked it off with Jungkook and the sex was amazing, the dynamic between them seemed to put you as just a plaything for the youngest of them all.

“Y/N? Jungkookie wants to have a talk with you” you didn’t even noticed the shift of your surrounding, knowing Jungkook, how he most probably bolted right out of the room when they heard the door close forcefully, too absorbed in your thoughts, still too absorbed in your thoughts as Hoseok led you back down, sitting you down a few feet away from where Jungkook was seated, the TV playing a random programme in the back “You two do your stuff, we’ll be outside, feel free to join, okay?”

The TV Show echoed in the dark, it seemed like it had been hours since you joined Jungkook in his living room, wanting nothing more than cross the door and never see him again, but he was a great kid, you knew just how much he would blame himself over what were your insecurities and inability to speak up on the matter, on never questioning what game you two were playing, sleeping around, going on dates but not getting involved. Until he was the first one to speak up.

“I am in a polyamorous relationship, Y/N” he heaved a sigh, as if the world was lifting from his shoulders “Have been for the last eight months” 

Your heart sped up, the words unable to leave your lips, all tangled up on your brain “You should have told me before” you turned your face to where he was at the same time as he did the same “I would have understood”

“I don’t want to leave you”

“I know” which, you did know, time and time again he had made it clear that there was so much more to your relationship, although Jungkook wouldn’t express it out loud “I would love to have you… if there’s a way”

Jungkook’s doe eyes seemed to shine brighter at your words, although you could see tears forming in them “I don’t understand why would you want to be with someone like me” 

“Jeon Jungkook”  you scooted yourself to be closer to him, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder “Some people are so full of love they can give a way to a lot of people, I understand that” his eyes lighted up at your words, the tiniest bit of hope in them 

A hand was placed on your shoulder, softly grabbing the exposed skin, making you turn your head to see Hoseok, shadows playing on his face as he smirked down at you “Plus, love will never be forever, might as well have seven plans ahead, right Y/N?” 

You could feel a lump in your throat at that, images of what you had witnessed inside the bedroom with Jungkook and his friend still fresh in your mind, clearing your throat you hesitated “Uhm.. I really don’t know how to feel about all this Hoseok” but as soon as the words left your mouth you could see the rest of the boys joining the living room, as if you were some kind of prey you were after, the only source of light coming from the fairy lights in the backyard, illuminating them as they approached, hiding their true intentions in their eyes at the same time as their faces became darker, heart thumping inside your ribcage

“Oh come on, Y/N I saw you looking at Jungkookie and I outside our bedroom” Taehyung mentioned, which made you flush, fortunately going unnoticed by the lack of light, although he chuckled as he once again straddled Jungkook inches beside you, an all-too familiar image of the both of them as he grinded hard down on Jungkook’s crotch, earning him a groan from the youngest  “Seemed to me you were enjoying it a bit too much”

A firm hand underneath your chin turned you to face upwards by the slightest, a face that took you seconds to recognise as Yoongi’s too close to yours, grazing his lips with yours before he tutted and added a “Good girls are meant to share their toys Y/N” for good measure.

“Jungkookie here practically gave you up before asking you to join us” Jimin added as he took a sit beside you, body clinging to Yoongi who was still too close to you

“I just-” you turned your face to Jungkook, who was currently busy with his mouth all over Taehyung and Hoseok, both on each side of him as they seemed to get an equal amount of attention from the youngest, your lower abdomen firing up at the image and the prospect of you taking part in the dynamic “I guess it doesn’t really sound so bad”

“Even Seokjin is willing to give you a taste” spoke Namjoon as he walked into the area with Seokjin just inches behind him, nodding his head when you locked eyes with the eldest “But I bet you’ll be Yoongi-hyung’s favourite”

“It’s your turn to call the shots, Y/N”

Instead of a response, you pull on Jimin’s shirt until he leans onto you, capturing you lips in his in a kiss that seems to last just seconds before he is placing you on top of him, allowing Yoongi to take you previous spot, caressing you side so when you lean back to catch a breath, his mouth is on yours stealing your breath away; out of the corner of your eye you watch as Hoseok has his hand inside Jungkook’s pants “Sharing is caring, Yoongi” you remind him as he tries to have a second go, Jimin’s laughter underneath you hitting the right places as he frictions his front side up to you, earning a soft moan from your lips, which only turns to a second one when you feel two wet mouths on each side of your jaw, gently nibbling on the skin before they stopped to kiss right in front of you, tongues catching, groans escaping from each of Seokjin and Namjoon throat before they turned to look at you and retrieved to their original spot to entertain themselves.

“As much as I’d love to take her, I think it’s best if we let Jungkook welcome her into our dynamic” a soft laugh falls from Jimin’s lips as you quietly gasp when he places you on the couch, an awaiting Jungkook on your side, the blond man taking his turn with Yoongi a few inches away.

Jungkook’s eyes seem dazed, and he quickly finds your mouth, just the way he did all those times before, except that now it was somewhat different from them, in a room full of people, his boyfriends, yours soon to be; as he absentmindedly tongues your bottom lip to deepen the kiss, a single hand slides underneath the fabric of your shirt as the other grips around your thigh, slowly working its way to where you could already feel your panties dampening. Fingers dancing familiarly over your nipples, “God I don’t know what I’d have done if you said no to this”, you barely register his words so you just nod in agreement, desperately wanting him to touch you where you needed the most. Warm fingers find your folds, stroking them slowly, squelching sounds that somehow don't seem to phase the way the rest of the group keeps on having their tongues deep down on someone elses throat, changing partners everytime you look up. The tips of his fingers find your entrance, slowly working a pace in and out, pairing it with wet kissed to your exposed neck as you try and hold on to his shirt for dear life “You’re so wet already”

His fingers pick up speed, barely curling into that soft spot inside you. Hips lifting slightly as your head lulls back against his shoulder, peaking both Jimin and Yoongi’s interest from beside you, a clear interest in the action if the way their pants seem to grow tighter by the second “Hey baby, is Jungkookie making you feel good?” voice raspy, dark, but soft lips on your own as the youngest kept his pace with his fingers, stretching you open on the couch.

“She sounds so sweet I can’t wait to taste her” Yoongi adds as his hand reaches out inside Jimin’s pants, starting to stroke his member to life. And that’s when you see it. Namjoon and Seokjin, ever so reserved, in their own little world, sitting across from all the action, hands on each other’s bulge, not daring to look away from you. And it somehow stirs you in all the right places, mind set already on giving them the best show ever. 

Hands cup your breasts from behind you, softly massaging them, feather like kisses on the back of your neck as your shirt is lifted, bra forgotten and your tits are free for everyone in the room to watch and enjoy, a voice behind you, owner of the hands pinching your nipples whispering in your ear “I’m willing to forgive you interrupting quality time with Kookie”

You feel a pinching in your clit joining Jungkook’s fingers pistoning into you, making you reach your orgasm in record time in a broken mess of calling out Jungkook’s name. Hoseok’s instantly reaching for the waistband of your panties to pull them down “Well I’d say, dinner’s served,Yoongi-hyung” before said man is  leaning forward, Yoongi’s hands exchanging Jimin’s cock for your knees – holding your legs open. Yoongi’s tongue takes a bold lick over your slit before he’s diving in, lips attaching to your clit as the tip of his tongue flicks against it. Hoseok’s chin is rested on your shoulder,ocassionaly opening up your outer lips to allow the elder a deeper access to your cunt,  watching Yoongi’s  tongue fuck into you. You could feel Taehyung’s thick length pressed into your lower back, the slow lift of his hips dragging it against you. Soft groans from the friction falling from his lips, mixing with the husky moans that echo from around the room as everyone watched Yoongi intently. Your eyes find Seokjin and Namjoon across the room, both of whom have since pulled their cocks from behind their pants, glistening tips on full display as their large hands stroke over the base of each other, their  hips moving to match the movement of their hands.

The tongue between your legs moves swiftly, pushing past your folds and slipping into your entrance, lapping up the juices from your past orgasm as Hoseok leans down to share a wet kiss with him, then Jungkook, the three of them tasting you on their tongues. As Yoongi returns to his spot between your legs, he moans against your core like the taste of you is the most delicious thing to ever hit his tongue, the sound sending vibrations through your body that has your cunt tingling, not far from your next release. “Aah- Yoongi” you gasp, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing his face further between your legs.

“You gonna cum all over my tongue, huh?” his movements intensify, nose pressed against your clit, rubbing it precisely as it makes you fall apart in a rush of desperate pleas before he removes himself from his position, chin covered in your juices to which you can’t help but moan at the sight of as he licks his lips in delight. His lips capture yours once he’s on your eye level,  hand set on the back of your head to keep you still, mouth instantly flooded with your taste, pulling away with fiery eyes and a smirk. “Joon was right, you’re gonna be my favourite”

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Doctor Strange and y/n confide their tragic backstories in one another. Y/n struggles with her feelings for him.

Trigger warnings: abusive parenting, use of firearms, discussion of death and grief, mention of alcoholism

"On the outside, always looking in

Will I ever be more than I've always been?

Cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass-"

You stopped yourself before you could indulgently belt out the titular lyric.

"Ew, why was I singing that?" You muttered to yourself. "I don't even like that song." 

You knew, subconsciously, that it was because you were trying to avoid what you really wanted to sing. For the first time ever, you had an audience. Someone was paying attention. 

"Love of my life, you've hurt me-"

"Oh, come on, butterfingers." He interrupted. "Love of my Life by Freddie Mercury. Give me something hard." 

"I wasn't aware it was classic rock trivia night." 

"Then why were you staring straight at me while singing?" He smirked. 

"Was I?" You cocked your head, expertly deflecting his implication. "I'm so spaced out I don't even know where I'm looking." 

"It's Freddie Mercury." He insisted.

"Uh, yes and no." You corrected, drawing on your encyclopedic knowledge of Queen from one particularly weird summer in high school. "While Freddie Mercury wrote the song, it was recorded on a Night at the Opera. Which was accredited to the whole band." 

"That's a nitpick," he shook his head. "I'm still right." 

You couldn't wear your heart on your sleeve anymore. You could only distract him with 70s glam rock trivia for so long before he started to notice a pattern. Although a sappy love song was in your heart, you sang the anthem of the depressed theater kid. 

You were staring straight at him, though. But who wouldn't? You studied his features only for artistic inspiration. His sharp jaw and high, high cheekbones were… inspiring. 

You couldn't lie to yourself. You fell and fell hard.

"Butterfingers!" Master Strange called out from the other side of the sanctum. "I need you!" 

You dropped your pencil and pushed yourself out from the chair. "Coming!" 

You followed the voice into his chambers. This was a new development, you thought. Out of respect for his privacy, you'd never dared to snoop around in his bedroom. But this was practically a written invitation. 

The room was spotless. Not a book or a scrap of paper out of place. Nor was there much to look at at all. A handful of picture frames, some magazines from when he was a surgeon, all featuring himself on the cover. 

"Butterfingers!" He called again, as if he knew you were about to snoop.

"I'm here!" You yelled back, eyes wandering around the room. "What do you need?" 

"I left my watch somewhere in the library!" He sounded disproportionately panicked for what was just a minor inconvenience. "I need you to go get it for me." 

"What does it look like?" You asked. 

"It's a $27,000 watch." He snapped impatiently. "It looks like one." 

"Jesus." You cursed.

"Don't give me that shit, [F/N]." He ordered, slamming his fist down against the sink. "Just do what you're goddamn told." 

"Alright, alright!" You put your hands up. "Fine, I'll get it." 

You hurried down the stairs and into the library. On the floor between his favorite chair and a stack of musty old books was a slim, silvery watch with a plain black band.

You picked it up and examined it. Apart from the price tag, was there really any reason for him to be so worried about it? He knew exactly where he left it. Did he have reason to believe it wouldn't be there when he returned? 

All you needed to do was flip it over to get your answer. You read the inscription on the back. 

Time will tell how much I love you -- Christine 

You should have known that his massive ego wouldn’t keep the women away forever. Hell, it certainly didn’t deter you. Much uglier douchebags have gotten far prettier girlfriends than they deserved.

You closed your fingers around the watch and sighed. The fantasy you created for yourself, of slowly, deliberately earning his love was shattered. Christine already beat you to it, it seemed. You tried to smother the part of you that resented this person for her exclusive right to Master Strange's affections. You didn't know her, but you loathed her. And you felt filthy for it.

With a heavy heart, you brought the stupid, criminally expensive little timepiece back to its rightful owner. 

"Here's your all-important watch, master." You mumbled, placing it on the bedside table. 

"I know I told you I would give you space to question things," He said, swiping it from the table and expertly affixing it around his wrist. "But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't question this." 

You tried to sound as non-passive-aggressive as you could. You attempted a more forgiving tone, but you couldn't hide your hurt. "It's fine. I don't care." 

"I didn't mean to get short with you, [F/N]." His voice softened. "I'm sorry. But this watch-" 

"It's fine." You cut him off, peering at the floor. 

"It was a gift." He finished anyway. 

You felt the lump in your throat rising. You knew what the watch represented and you wanted to smash it to pieces. Along with the sting of rejection, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. "I know. I saw the engraving."

"She died two years ago." He lowered his head. 

Suddenly, all your ill will towards this woman turned into guilt. 

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose someone who loved you so much." 

"She had agreed to come to a speaking engagement with me. As a second chance, and-" Pain wrapped his voice. He closed his hand tightly around the watch and held it close to his chest. "Have you ever been in love before, [F/N]?"

From the way your heart ached, and how easily the thought of never being with him made you cry, you knew the answer. You'd been avoiding speaking it into being thus far, but you couldn't lie to yourself anymore.

"Yes." You whispered. 

"You'll learn soon enough." He muttered. "It only brings more suffering." 

The tears finally breached and you tried to blink them away. You didn't know what emotion was causing them: guilt, shame, contempt, anger, sadness-- they were all present.

"Master Strange, I-" you stuttered, tripping over your breath. "I respect what you've gone through, I really do, but it's not fair to take it out on me." 

"You're right." He conceded. "I'm sorry. Please, go get some sleep.”

You nodded. “Right.” 

You slept as late as you could get away with the next morning. In apprentice terms, that only meant sleeping until eight thirty. Your dailies could wait an extra hour while you laid in bed, feeling like garbage. 

You stumbled down the spiral staircase in your pajamas. No bra, no makeup and no effort. You didn’t even run a brush through your hair. Why try, you thought. Why make an effort for the man who would never see you as anything but the help? 

When you saw the piano, though, you did a full 180.

In the living area was a French cherry baby grand piano that definitely was not there before. You certainly would have noticed it before. You placed your phone on the counter and approached the new addition. 

As if the memories were woven into the very muscles and ligaments of your fingers, you ran down a few octaves of C Major. The keys were smooth as porcelain and the sound that emanated from the instrument was next to heavenly. 

A bright orange post-it note was stuck to the music rack. 

“Love of my Life”, Queen, A Night at the Opera. 1975 

Was this a request, or an admission of wrong? Whatever the case, it made you smile. 

"You weren't being entirely honest with me, Butterfingers." He said, randomly materializing behind you. 

You turned around on the piano bench and looked up at him. "What was I not honest about?" 

"I'm so glad you asked." He sat down on the bench next to you, phone in hand. "Because when you said you used to play piano, you didn't specify you were actually a student prodigy." 

Sure enough, on his phone, he was scrolling through your Instagram. Dozens of videos of a much younger [F/N] playing hundreds of different songs, singing with too many vocal runs and doing so with the entire content of her soul behind the music. 

"Student prodigy is a bit strong." You turned your head to hide your blush. 

He scrolled up and found a picture of a young, zit-faced teenage [F/N] holding an acceptance letter. "Last I checked, Juilliard doesn't give full-ride scholarships to just anyone." 

You covered your face with your hands, smothering an embarrassed smile. "God, please. I'd rather you'd found my OnlyFans." 

He raised his eyebrows. "As tempting as that sounds, I'd still rather hear your explanation on this. Why did you give up on something you loved?"

You looked at him in surprise. "You really want to know?" 

"Well, I told you mine." He playfully nudged you in the side. 

You took a deep breath in. "Well, it was about two years ago, now-”

"Cheers to you, [F/N]!" Your best friend Holly raised her glass of champagne in your direction. "Juilliard ain't gonna know what hit ‘em."

"I'll drink to that." You said, bring your own flute up to your lips and taking a swig. You wretched in disgust as the vile liquid ran down your throat. "Or maybe I won't."

"You're gonna have to get used to it." Holly nudged you with her elbow. "I think most professional musicians are alcoholics."

You narrowed your eyes at her. "I don't think that's right."

"Is too." She smirked. "Conductors are mad strict. Abusive even. Drive musicians to drink all the time."

You laughed. "Is everything you know about the world of music from Whiplash?"

"And The Perfection." She added.

"Thank you, Holly." You said, attempting to take another sip of champagne, purely for dramatic effect. "Very cool."

You felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. "Hi, Holly. Enjoying the party?"

Holly took a step back. "Hey, Mrs. [L/N]. Yeah, it's great."

"I hope you don't mind," Your mom said, her fake nice voice eeking through her clenched teeth. "I need to borrow [F/N] for a few minutes."

Holly's face fell. "Sure. I'll catch up with you later, [F/N]."

Your mother tugged you off to the side. With a stressed huff, she began. "Jason is out in the fields with his ROTC friends."

"And what do you want me to do about that?" You asked, knowing her drunk self couldn't read your sarcastic tone.

"Could you go get him and bring him home?" She said, squeezing your upper arm.

"Are you kidding?" You spat.

"[F/N], he's drunk." She scolded. "Do you want him to get another strike on his record?"

"I don't care." You mumbled under your breath. "Have him call an uber. Hell, let him sleep it off in the field. Not my problem."

"You know what he's like when he's drunk." She rationalized. "He gets rowdy. It had better be you."

You tensed up. "No. Holly and I are going to the French Quarter. I don't have time to babysit Jason."

"Just pick him up on your way there?" She pleaded. "It won't take long."

You knew this wasn't going to stop. "Fine, but this is the last time."

You were both dressed far too well to be trekking through the swampy ass nowhere when you should have been fucking your way through the French Quarter. Luckily for your evening plans, all you needed to do was follow the sound of gunshots.

You slammed the car door shut and Holly followed suit. Finding him was the easy part. The hard part was hauling his drunk ass back home.

"Fun's over, shithead." You announced, heels sinking into the sod as you spoke. You didn't have much trouble projecting over the gunfire and getting their attention.

"Shit, [F/N]?" Jason sputtered, so drunk he could barely keep his head straight.

"Holy shit, I didn't even recognize you in that dress." One of his dumb fuck friends added. He jabbed Jason in the side. "Why didn't you tell me your sister's hot?"

"Buster, I-'' You clenched your teeth. "I don't care if you live or die, but my mom needs me to bring Jason home."

"If you get in the car now, we won't have to use the chloroform." Holly added.

Jason scratched the back of his head with the barrel of his gun, then pointed it at you. "You're gonna have to make me."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You exclaimed, hitting the deck. "What the fuck, Jason!?"

Jason and his dumbass friends laughed. "You should have seen the look on your face, [F/N]!"

"Put down the fucking gun-" You seethed. "And get in the fucking car."

He lowered the gun and looked like he was going to concede. Just when you thought he would cooperate, he stuck it up again. He keeled over in a fit of laughter when you and Holly panicked again.

"Look at them!" He shouted. "They're so fucking scared!"

You knew out in the middle of the swamp, nobody could hear you scream. So you used it to your advantage.

"Jason, you're going in the car, or under it." You raised your voice. "I will mow your drunk ass down like eight day old roadkill right here in this field and you will be LUCKY if anyone finds your bloated, shit-covered remains before the crocodiles get a whiff of you."

That seemed to get his attention.

"Sorry, boys." He pouted. "You heard her."

He had to 'get you' one final time, though. Only that time, the gun went off. Just centimeters from your ear. You clutched the side of your head, trying to drown out the deafening ringing with your screams.

You vaguely remembered Holly pistol-whipping Jason before loading you into the car to drive you to the hospital, leaving him desolate and drunk in the field.

"It was a one-in-a-million shot." The otolaryngologist tried not to sound impressed at what was clearly some kind of anomaly very few got to witness in a medical career. "When the bullet fired, the gunpowder traveled down your ear canal, burning the cells of your auditory nervous system and... singing your eardrum... clean off."

Your eyes widened. "Off?!"

The doctor lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Miss [L/N]. I'm afraid you'll never return to full hearing again."

You didn't want to kill the messenger. You knew she was only doing her job. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"If we could do a tympanoplasty, which, given the condition of the drum, is unlikely-" she began. "There would still be no way to fully repair the hair cells along the ear canal."

You took deep breaths to try and quell your simmering rage. "I'm leaving for Juilliard in three months."

"Hearing aid technology has improved significantly over the last decade." She said, a somewhat hopeful upturn in her voice.

That was when your mother decided to join in on the conversation. "Oh, we can't afford that."

You thought you were going to crush your teeth into bits from how tightly your jaw was clenched in fury. "Take it out of Jason's college fund, then."

"Oh, [F/N]." She said as if you had just told the funniest joke imaginable. "Please. That wouldn't be fair to Jason."

"You can afford to send that blithering idiot to the Citadel." You hissed. "You can afford to buy me a hearing aid so I can play piano."

"Beethoven was entirely deaf." Your mom pointed out. "And he became the greatest composer of all time. It's really just mind over matter, sweetie-"

"Sure, that makes perfect sense!" You plastered on a deranged smile, feeling driven to the brink of madness. "I can repair my destroyed eardrum with the power of positive thinking! Jason gets thirty-five thousand dollars a year to play soldier, but I have to just use my imagination."

She covered her face with her hands as if she was being attacked and went into kicked-puppy mode. "Don't be mad at Jason, [F/N]. He didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Fuck this." You said, releasing all your tension in those two words. "Fuck all of this. I'm tired of you defending that chauvinist asshole. The next time you see me will be when one of us is dead."

"Where are you going?!" She wailed.

You snatched your purse from the table and threw it over your shoulder. "I'm moving out."

“Disgraced at age nineteen?" Master Strange said, leaning back on the piano. "Let me guess, you turned to alcohol to cope?"

"You'd think, but actually no." You shook your head. The tone of the conversation had taken a sharp left turn from sadness to dry, apathetic amusement. "I probably would have if I could have afforded it."

"You missed out." He said. "Drinking a whole bottle of eighty year old scotch was definitely the highlight of my grieving period."

You'd never joined the clauses 'Master Strange' and 'drunk off his ass' in the same sentence before then. It was an odd mental picture for sure. One you needed to see to believe.

"I got desperate." You admitted. "Luckily, New Orleans had a lot to offer someone like me, so I didn't have to go far to find people claiming to have answers. But it was all essential oils, incense, binaural beats-"

"I'm sorry," he cut in. "What kind of dickhead suggests binaural beats to someone with only one functioning ear?"

You threw up your hands. "Right? Doesn't make sense. Anyway, I came across a woman named Mistress Fantina and she pointed me in the right direction. How to heal my body through control of my spirit."

He looked at you with that fascination of the human body characteristic of those in the medical field. "It worked, I assume?"

"I figured it out." You shrugged. "But I got so invested in the Mystic Arts that I forgot all about Juilliard. Became a full-time student. Ever since, I never once thought about returning to my old life."

"I suppose if I'd discovered this world because I had lost, say, my ability to perform surgery, it would be hard to leave it behind and return to the operating room." He thought out loud. Sighing, he closed his hand over his watch. "But no matter how medical science evolves, you can't reverse death."

You let the quiet linger for a moment.

[beatleszeppelin]

You're A... Inexperienced Chapter 2

Summary: On watch one night you find out some thing that Daryl has never done. And you offer him some experience.

Category: Friends to Lovers, Eventual Mild Smut, just a good ol’ time

Paring: Daryl x reader (second person)

Warnings/Includes: General Walking Dead grossness, Smut (but not in this chapter), swearing, use of weapons, non-graphic hunting, mention of past child abuse, (let me know if you see anything else)

Word count: 3k

Chapter 1 Masterlist

Chapter 2 Naked in a Lake

The next few days were fairly uneventful. Seeing Daryl only in passing. He stayed outside when you were in; you stayed outside when he stayed in.

Not even shifts brought you together. Since the fall of Woodbury, there have been plenty of new people taking shifts to give you all a break.

Most of your time was spent helping with the kids in the library when Carol was too busy doing important things to “babysit”. Or you occasionally helped out at the farm on the south side of the prison. Rick and Hershel had started it over the past few months, and already it had yielded some fine meals.

Those meals were also made courtesy of Daryl, who went out into the woods on the daily, not going far, but far enough to be out all day and come back with a belt full of squirrels and rabbits by night. You had no idea how he did it or how far he went, but he seemed to be used to the days of solitude, in nature alone.

That was all until he planned to go out a bit farther, only for a couple days, but that was more that he had been gone in a while, more than anyone had been alone for a while. When he shared these plans, you decided that you would go out hunting with him, you know, because there is safety in numbers, (and you were dying to see what he spent so much time doing everyday).

So when morning came, and it was time to leave you brought your bag and followed him to the gate. He squinted at you being blinded by the morning light that rose over the prison. “I’m coming with you, is that alright?” You asked him knowing that he couldn’t argue. You awaited his response, but it never came, instead he had the gate opened and held his arm out like a gentleman letting you lead.

You guys walked past the spikes that guarded the outside of the gates, just as the queens guards once did outside of Buckingham palace. Kicking rocks and dust clouds along the path, walking went fairly slow. Not much to say, not much to do this early in the morning. You hadn’t even waited for Carl and Carol’s shift, which normally signified morning, to start before you had left. (You were sure he had said good-bye to them, Rick, and Judith the night before though. He was good like that.)

When the sun, which was barely peering over the land when you left, had risen enough to give you a long shadow, stretched out in front of you; you decided it was time to eat. Taking the backpack off your shoulders, and unzipping it when it was in front of you, you pulled out a small loaf of bread. You broke it in half and handed some to Daryl. He gnashed into it like a rabid dog, grunting a thank you in between bites.

You nibbled off bites as you walked, trying to savor it as something to do. The scenery of trees and a dirt path was getting old. You couldn’t understand how someone could go out along this path all day every day.

It was hot, too. Hot and sweaty. By mid-day you felt as though you were dragging, lifting your legs in a pedantic manner. Daryl’s hair was stuck to his forehead, and he had stripped his poncho, just left in a cut off flannel. He seemed to be perfectly fine in the heat though, barely even touching his water.

You wonder if he stayed outside a lot before as well. There’s something about him that makes it so hard to imagine him in his house, in a domestic setting. Did he do the dishes, and make himself food? Was his room clean, did he make his bed every morning before work? Did he have a job? What did he do? But you know that wondering these things will only pass the time, because there is no way he’d ever casually mention his previous life.

People had tried guessing, to no avail. Beth’s new boyfriend, Zach, was the leader of the guessers, being followed by the children, and you’ve even discussed it with both Michonne and Carol before. It would really take something special to make him confess his stories to someone, who knows who could get that close to him though.

You spent the majority of your walk picturing him in an office setting, wearing a tie and answering phones. Or at a gas station glaring at little kids who try to stuff candy bars up their sleeves, scaring them into obeying the law.

Mechanic seemed to fit best. Not a sleazy mechanic that finds more things to break to get

some extra cash, but one that spends day and night tracking down an original piece to some old beat up motorcycle. He wouldn’t charge extra for labor, cause he’d be doing the thing he loved most. He would treat each bike as his own, tirelessly making it perfect until the finishing pieces were in their exact place, like the sprinkles on a sundae.

“Gonna cut into the woods, right here.” He nodded, directing you.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” you said, snapping out of your little daydream. “Ya’ okay?” He ducked down, meeting your eyes though his hair.

“Yeah, I’s just thinking.”

“‘Kay, just watch out in here. Can’t make too much sound.”

You walked through the dense forest, making as little noise as you possibly could. Heel, toe; heel, toe. Only cracking branches and crunching leaves every few steps, listening to Daryl’s deep steadying breaths in between.

He taught you how to lay traps, and snares; different knots and when to use them. By the end of the day you could set your own, with the reassurance that he would help kill whatever you caught. No matter how many walkers you would kill, and how much bad shit you’ve seen. It still felt weird killing animals to eat.

The trapping, and mapping out your paths came to an end as night fell. The darkness made it too difficult to achieve the superb knots you were tying, and the sub par snares that Daryl would set, so you two decided to call it a night, sleeping in shifts back to back.

The next day went the same, but it was now time for the actual hunting. You left the killing to Daryl, using your lack of a silent long range weapon, like the crossbow as an excuse. You guys sat up wind, and out of the line of sight of any animals that may pass. It was quiet, and you understood why he liked it.

Hunting wasn’t all killing like you had imagined; hunting was 99% sitting quietly in nature, 1% killing.

You can’t lie about the fact that when a deer came into sight, you closed your eyes and didn’t open them until you heard the click of the trigger on the crossbow. You didn’t want to see the animal die, but you can’t feel bad about how many people that deer could feed.

Daryl took care of the dirty work, cleaning, and “prepping” the deer to be taken home. You sat by and watched.

Once the task was complete, you started back for the prison, hoping it would cut some of the time of the walk back tomorrow. This time was cut short by the approaching darkness of night.

You two set up a small camp to spend the ever closer night. And with cans on strings, as tripwire, and your backs to each other, you two felt it was safe enough to get some rest, that was until the cans rattled.

The sounds of metal clanking, shook you from your not so deep sleep. You whipped around to see a walker reaching over your barricade of tangled fishing wire and old soda cans. It stumbled over and grabbed Daryl's boot, luckily he tied up his pant legs with cords to keep from being scratched. You scrambled over to a half awake Daryl and pulled his knife from his pocket, stabbing it into the undead's brain. He nodded graciously as you handed his knife back. You both sat still in the early hours of the morning, breathing heavily until your adrenaline died down.

Your eyes stung from lack of sleep, but it was nothing compared to how Daryl looked. His eyes were puffy, and had dark purple craters around them, and what little you could see of his eyes were bloodshot. His hair stuck up in every which direction, the bangs that normally cover his face, were defying gravity, and exposed his forehead.

“You can sleep, but let's face each other this time,” you planned.

“You sure?” he said groggily.

“Yeah, if you saw yourself, you’d be sure too.”

He scoffed, and pulled his vest out as an acting pillow, tucking one arm under it, and laying his head down. He fell asleep shortly, and you watched.

The expression he made was soft, and innocent, less like a child and more like a puppy that tired out running in a field all day. He subconsciously held his thumb to his mouth. He breathed heavily through his mouth, with quiet snores escaping occasionally.

You didn’t sleep at all that night, you couldn’t let anything disturb the peace. You weren’t tired, though, you actually felt like you had gotten a full night’s rest.

The two of you started home at the crack of dawn, with dull yellow light illuminating the grass you stood on. You took to the woods for your trek home, rather than the long road you took to get there.

Halfway through the day you happened upon a lake that looked beautiful, a direct juxtaposition to everything you had been used to seeing. The water sparkled, and light refracted off the ripples in every which direction. Birds made chirping sounds that echoed through the dense forest, and made a song through the trees.

Daryl grabbed a plastic bottle, and some of the sandy silt that covered the edge of the water, making a makeshift water filter. As he did so, you took off your shorts and threw them aside, wading into the water. The water was greenish, but you could see your feet, and the dust clouding around your steps. The water was warm enough to not give you the chills, but cool enough to be refreshing.

Once the water hit your hips, you took your shirt off and threw it a few feet away from Daryl, joining your shorts, and shortly after your bra. You watched him finish his contraption and fill it.

“Should have some water in an hour or so…” he looked up and saw you, then quickly looked back at his bottle.

“Maybe we could catch a fish or something, too,” you said, smiling at his back. “You should join me in here.”

“Nah” he shook his head.

“Yeah, when was the last time you got cleaned up?”

“I ain’t gonna, someone needs to be a lookout.” He looked up at you, standing his ground. “Anyway, I gotta piss.”

He started walking away and you yelled to him, “Yeah, sure you do, Dixon.” You splashed his way, but he had already walked behind the trees.

A noise came from your left, behind a couple of thick trees. Two walkers stumbled out, slipping on the sandy hill. You didn’t have any weapons on you, and getting back over to your clothes seemed like a death wish. They were closer to the clothes and things than you were. Daryl didn’t even have his crossbow with him, it was in the pile next to the water filter.

You yelled for Daryl, hoping he’d get back before the walkers could reach you. You yelled again, and it drew their attention. They were about at the edge of the water now, and you were fucked… but a whistle came out of the woods.

Daryl showed up and whistled loudly to catch the attention of the dead walking toward you. It worked. They started toward him at a slow pace, and you ran over to the pile of stuff. You picked one off with the crossbow. Daryl tripped backwards on a rock, and the walker stumbled towards him, wishing to bite into the leg that was trying to kick it backwards. He grabbed the rock, lifted it over his head, and smashed it down onto the walker, and hitting it again smashed his head open, covering Daryl in it’s blood. He leaned back and dropped the rock. He took a second to catch his breath.

“Hey, thanks” You said to him as you were naked and dripping like a wet dog.

He sighed and raised his eyebrows. Which you will take as a “no problem.”

Daryl’s hair dripped with blood, guts, and rotting chunks of flesh. His shirt was wet, red, and sweaty. The muddy sand covered his pants and hands, leaving him dirtier than before.

“I guess you have to join me now” you said, still mostly naked.

He begrudgingly kicked off his boots, and slid his vest off down his shoulders, letting it drop on the floor. He started walking to the edge of the water, when you had to stop him.

“What, NO!” You said haulting him, “You are not still wearing your socks.”

He took off his socks, and his pants. He walked into the lake, a couple feet in and the water hit the bottom of his shirt.

You never took Daryl as the type of person to not be okay with taking his shirt off, but here he was: standing in a lake with his shirt on, contemplating whether he should take it off or not. He stood there for a couple seconds before looking at you, and when you gave him a reassuring smile, he took it off. He looked good with it off, you didn’t see a problem, until he turned around.

He whipped around fast to throw his shirt on land, and as he did, you saw his back. He was covered in scars. Yeah, some could be new, from fighting, from surviving, but you take it he’d been surviving for a lot longer than the rest of you had.

The slashes that riddled his skin were old. He could have gotten most of them when he was still a kid. You swallowed hard, he turned and faced you but neither of you met each other's eyes. He got quiet. And as his hand pensively rubbed the back of his neck, as he thought about what you must think of him.

“Hey, come on in the water’s fine,” you said to ease the tension.

It seemingly worked, because the next thing he did was dive under, swimming to you in a second. The water rippled along the path he had swam, and broke around his emerging body. You met his eye. He nodded to you as a thanks, and you shook your head back at him in a no problem kind of way. This practice had become routine, it was easier than constantly owing thanks to the other person for some trivial task such as saving their lives.

He broke eye contact and looked down, “Still gotta piss.”

You snickered. Then stepping back a couple of feet you gestured for him to go right ahead.

He looked at you, head cocked a little, and then the realization hit and his ears turned bright red. He turned around, and you got a better look at his scars. Some were short slashes, some longer, and others crossed over each other. You couldn’t fathom the person that would hit a child, let alone Daryl; Daryl was sweet, and could never have done something that deserved this treatment.

He finished up and faced you, but didn’t meet your eyes. You got a look at him, the man that just pissed in the pool in front of you, his ears were red as well as his cheeks making a bridge across his nose. The blush trailed down to his upper chest in splotches, like watercolors splaying out.

He chewed the corner of his thumb and said, “Ya’ know, I used to piss the bed as a kid.”

“I mean we all did,” You said. “Come here.”

He complied, “Nah, I mean ‘til I’s like 8 or so.”

“Bend over,” you told him.

He leaned back and you started washing his hair for him, detangling it with your fingers, and picking things out of it like you were monkeys.

“I remember a couple times it happened, had to sneak out late at night and do my laundry in the bathroom, so no one’d hear me. But this once, my dad wasn’t home so, I didn’t get… but my mom had this whole ‘nother way of doing it. She took my clothes. Pinned me down, Merle helped. She put a diaper on me, made me sleep outside.”

“When you were 8?” You cupped some water and dumped it over his head.

“Uh huh, made me wear ‘em to school, too. Under my clothes. Said if I took ‘em off she’s gonna tell my dad, so I didn’t.” He went back to biting his thumb.

“That shouldn’t have happened to you,” you said, moving to wash his shoulders.

He shrugged, and flinched away when you ran your finger over a scar on his back.

“You know, stress and trauma cause children to start wetting the bed later on in childhood, it's called enuresis, it wasn’t your fault,” You splashed water on his shoulders, noticing the freckles made by the sun.

“Done?” He asked, standing up straight.

“What?”

“Am I done?” he asked and shook his hair out like a dog.

“Yeah, you’re good.”

Daryl quickly made his return to land, you however stayed in the water until the filter was done giving you each a bottle. Every once in a while you catch him glance over at you floating naked in the lake, but his eyes would quickly divert.

[everlarkficexchange]

Hold Me Up

Prompt 42. Group of friends. Economic disaster, no jobs; eventually in desperation someone in the group suggests making a porno for $, the idea takes off, as they work on a script and put out ideas, a lot becomes clear, like who has kinks, who has tried a lot, and that one is an inexperienced virgin. Does the writing experience have consequences to the group dynamic, will they actually film and sell it, will they stay friends? Are any couples or siblings part of the group? Are secrets revealed through brainstorming?

Submitted by @567inpanem

Author: JLaLa

Rated M

Summary: “What the hell are you suggesting?” Gale asked.

“I thought it was obvious,” the woman next to him said. “I’m suggesting we make a porno.”

Strapped for cash, a group of friends—plus two strangers—decide to go all out.

Multiple pairings, and of course, Everlark. 

“Hold me up in the palm of your hand Lying to you is a river of sin Your metaphors, your silent calls Your feelings are too real…”

                                                -Live

Hold Me Up

Part One

Katniss closed her eyes as the rush of hot water hit her face. It had been a hell of a day.

Her boss cut her hours at the record store due to the lack of sales. She had done everything short of offering to blow the man—wouldn’t have worked, he was gay—to get as many hours as possible. However, everyone was suffering due to Panem’s economic disaster and Heavensbee’s hands were tied.

All she wanted to do tonight was eat the leftover Chinese in the fridge, binge watch Bridgerton for the hundredth time and use her vibrator until she climaxed to the image of Simon Basset eating her out—

“Katniss!” There was a quick knock before the door opened. “Sorry, but I have to piss like a racehorse—”

She pulled back the shower curtain to the sight of her roommate and friend, Peeta, unzipping his jeans.

“Seriously, couldn’t you do that somewhere else? Like, maybe get a plastic cup or do it in the sink?”

“Last time I did, Gale totally flipped out on me,” her friend replied. “It’s not like you haven’t seen my dick before. You’ve seen it plenty of times, most of the time it was erect.”

The peril of living with two boys was that you always seemed surrounded by morning wood…any kind of wood really.

“Fine.” Katniss closed the curtain. “Try not to be loud about it though.”

“How am I loud while I pee?”

“‘Oooh fuck, finally…I’ve been holding that in all day!’ Katniss mimicked mockingly. “You’d think that you were doing something else instead of emptying your bladder.”

“Honestly, sometimes a good pee is better than sex,” Peeta retorted. “I don’t think that I’ll be able to stop it once it starts so just sing something really loud or you’ll be hearing me hitting the porcelain pretty hard.”

Katniss walked under the shower to rinse her hair and belted out the first song that came to her.

“I got a new life

You would hardly recognize me

I’m so glad

How could a person like me care for you?

Why, why do I bother

When you’re not the one for me

Is enough enough?”

“I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes…” Peeta sang along and Katniss giggled hearing his melodic baritone. “I saw the sign…life is demanding without understanding—”

“We should start a group,” she offered as she turned the nozzle and the water stopped. “Especially since I’ll likely be laid off soon.”

“Oh shit! I’m sorry, Katniss.” A hand peeked through the curtain, holding a towel and she took it, quickly wrapping it around herself. “We’re all taking it up the butt, aren’t we?”

She pulled back the curtain and stepped out. “What do you mean?”

“Haymitch and Effie will probably have to close down with everything happening,” he informed her. “The rent for the bakery space is just too much for them. I mean, we still have our regulars, but they’re not making enough to pay me to make a dozen danishes and scones.”

“That sucks.” Peeta was still wearing his apron around his waist, a red bandana covering his blond locks, along with his usual baking uniform of a fitted white tee and jeans. “I know how much you love that job. Not to mention, Haymitch and Effie are pretty kickass.”

“Well, at least we have Gale,” her friend replied as he opened the door, letting her step out first before putting a companionable arm around her waist. “Old reliable Gale—”

There was a cough and they found Gale sitting on their couch lighting up their emergency joint.

This was bad.

++++++

“My whole department was pretty much eliminated,” Gale explained once he stepped out of his daze. “They led us in, one by one, into that small office and gave us the whole spiel about making cutbacks before handing us our severance checks. This will hold me for about six months of my piece of the rent—”

“This is probably the worst time to tell you,” Katniss started. “But Heavensbee reduced my hours at the store and I’ll probably be getting the boot soon.”

“Effie and Haymitch can’t afford to keep me at the bakery,” Peeta told him. “They’re also likely to lose the business, too.”

Gale nodded, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. “Well, we’re fucked.”

“Now there’s that positive attitude that we know and love,” a sharp feminine voice said.

The three looked up to find the rest of their friends stepping into the apartment led by Johanna, who lived across the hall from them. Madge, her roommate, followed in with a pizza box and the group was finished out with Finnick, who lived downstairs and was—until today—Gale’s teammate.

“Well, we’re fucked!” Gale repeated, his voice hitching up at the end. He looked to Johanna. “Good enough?”

“We’re all getting it,” Madge said, sitting next to him calmly. “The Forever 21 I’m working at is closing. So, I’m screwed, and I won’t even have severance like you and Finnick.”

“I have thousands of dollars in debt over the camera equipment I just bought,” Finnick told her. “I’m supposed to be working on my documentary.” Their friend was a budding director. “Now, I’ll be using the rest of my severance to pay it off.”

Johanna plopped down in their lone seat, putting her feet on the table.

“Not that I don’t love you guys, but I’ve been out of a job for months, so your sob stories mean nothing to me,” she said. Grabbing the joint, their friend took a long inhale and breathe out in relief. “The job market is non-existent at this point.”

“God, maybe I should’ve pushed on blowing Heavensbee,” Katniss muttered.

Finnick snorted. “What?”

“He’s gay, but probably not getting any,” she replied, next to Peeta. “If you close your eyes, it feels the same.”

“You might have something there,” Johanna suddenly said, her oak eyes contemplative.

Peeta glared at her. “Not funny. You really want Katniss turning tricks for rent?”

“Hardly,” their friend replied. “No offense—” Johanna looked to Katniss. “—you alone have no sex appeal, and this is coming from a full-fledged lesbian.” She turned to Madge. “She would—with the pouty lips and the big titties. Not to mention those golden locks. Put a little red hood on her and you’ll have those Fairy Tale freaks begging to see what’s underneath.”

Katniss crossed her arms. “Well, thank you for telling me that I’m undesirable.”

“I didn’t say that.” Johanna looked between Katniss and Peeta. “I said you alone would have no sex appeal but put you with him—” She nodded at Peeta. “—or her.” A hand waved over at Madge. “People will pay big money to see that. A nice little ying and yang.”

“What the hell are you suggesting?” Gale asked.

“I thought it was obvious,” the woman next to him said. “I’m suggesting we make a porno.”

++++++

Several beers in, the idea started to make sense.

“Babe, if this thing took off, we could pay off the camera equipment,” Annie, Finnick’s fiancée, said. She had joined them a little after the major freak out over Johanna’s idea. “Also, you could get some experience in handling the equipment and I could get experience with the boom mic.”

“That is true,” Finnick mused.

“Guys, do you know how many different types of porn there is out there? How would we make one that people would be interested in?” Gale asked. His voice had taken on a rough slur, five bottles in, as he leaned against a drunken Madge.

“Simple,” Johanna smirked. “We do our research. This neighborhood is full of not-so-reputable places; it’s why rent used to be freakishly low. We can ask what men and women would like to see. Also, we’re all decent looking.”

“What about the fact that you’re talking about us having sex with each other?” Peeta asked, eyes bloodshot. Katniss laid on his lap, singing along to the music on her phone. “No offense, but I don’t want to have sex with you. You scare me a little.”

“Well, who would you want to have sex with?” Madge asked with a buzzed grin.

“Easy.” Peeta looked at the giggling woman on his lap. “Katniss.”

“Really now?” Finnick leaned forward in interest. “Why her?”

“I’m comfortable with her,” he explained. “We were each other’s first kiss, granted we were only five—but also, she’s seen my dick plenty of times.”

Katniss drunkenly waved her finger at him. “I’m not scared of it…”

“Dude, why aren’t you together?” Annie asked.

Peeta shrugged. “Seemed better to stay friends.”

“Those two are such chickens,” Gale called out. “They just tiptoe…and tiptoe…and it’s all like ‘I think Katniss is beautiful’…or ‘I want to have Peeta’s babies’…and I’m just like why don’t you just fuck already?”

“Fine.” Katniss slid onto the floor and held her hand out, palm down. “We’ll do this. I get to fuck Peeta because everyone is so invested…but we all have to be in this.” She looked at the rest of the group, her eyes landing on Peeta. “Do we agree?”

Johanna placed her hand over Katniss’. “I’m in.”

Madge followed immediately. “Me, too.”

“Fine,” Gale muttered before his hand landed on the pile.

“We’re down,” Finnick said, adding his hand.

“But only as the filmmakers,” Annie added before placing her hand on top of her fiancé’s.

Katniss looked to Peeta; nervousness laced in her grey eyes. “And you?”

He examined her, almost losing himself in her gaze before placing his hand down to seal the pact.

“Let’s do this.”

++++++

“Do you like oral?” Katniss asked the scantily-clad waitress. “Giving? Getting?”

“Yes, to both,” the pretty blonde answered.

Johanna and Gale had gotten to work quickly, both making up the questionnaire that they were using for research. While that was happening, Annie and Finnick put up an ad looking for available actors and actresses to add to their production.

Two days ago, their questionnaire had revealed that threesomes, double penetration, and girl-on-girl were high on the list. Unfortunately, they didn’t know who would be doing what except for Katniss and Peeta.

“And anal?” Katniss continued as Peeta joined her at the table.

“Sure,” the woman answered. “I’m pretty open. Me and my ex used to film ourselves all the time.” She looked at the two. “You two looking for tips?”

“Maybe,” Katniss replied. She turned to Peeta. “Did you want anything?”

“Coke, please,” he told the woman. “I’m still recovering from the past few days.”

“Coke for him and a Lagavulin for me,” Katniss told the waitress.

“You like the good stuff.” She gave Katniss a saucy wink. “I’ll be right back with your drinks. I’m Delly, by the way.”

“Katniss.” Katniss gestured over at Peeta, who gave Delly a light wave. “Peeta.”

She nodded. “Nice meeting you.”

As soon as Delly walked away, Katniss turned to her friend. “What do you think?”

“Decent rack, sweet face, and she has experience apparently,” Peeta replied. “Thoughts on having her on the team?”

“Well, she seems friendly,” Katniss replied. She eyed him. “Would you do her?”

“If I had to…sure,” her friend replied. “How about you?”

“Me and Delly?” Katniss looked to the woman at the bar, awaiting their drinks. She was pretty with wavy, shoulder-length hair and wide eyes. Not to mention, her body was banging—the bejeweled bustier made her breasts look incredible—and her personality was easy. “Sure. Why not? I mean it will make me more…desirable.”

“Are you still pissed off that?” Peeta asked. “Johanna loves to rile you up.”

“I hate that she can.” Katniss sighed. “Are we really going to do this?”

“Haven’t you ever been curious?” Peeta’s gaze fell warmly on her. “How it might feel like between me and you?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “We kissed that one time, but nothing came of it. I thought maybe you didn’t like it…or me.”

“I do like you. I love you.” Peeta reached for her, pulling her onto his lap. “I guess we were just both too scared to explore what kind of love we could’ve had.”

Her arms wove around his neck as Katniss pressed her forehead to his. “I love you and I like you, too.”

“Your drinks, lovebirds.” Delly approached them, a bright smile on her face. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Actually.” Katniss stood up, pulling out the business card with Johanna’s number on it. “I have a proposition for you.”

++++++

“What are your special skills?” Johanna asked as she looked over Delly’s resume.

Delly gave the group a bright smile, her eyes landing on Katniss with a wink.

The group gathered the following day for auditions for the two additional actors at Finnick and Annie’s place.

Currently, Annie and Peeta were reviewing resumes and headshots in the hallway while the rest of them assessed the auditions.

The group had agreed to hold them at Finnick and Annie’s since it looked the most professional. The couple’s apartment was stylishly decorated thanks to Annie’s chic but budget-friendly taste—most of their furnishings from Target and IKEA.

“Can you look into the camera?” Finnick asked from where he stood in the center of the living room.

“Sure.” Delly looked straight into the camera, smiling into it. “Well…I can do a handstand and suck dick at the same time.”

“Can we see?” Madge asked from where she stood next to Finnick.

“The sucking dick part or the headstand?”

“How about we just see how it looks?” Finnick suggested. “Have Annie bring the next male audition in.”

Gale stood from his seat. “I’m on it.” He quickly came back, followed by a tall, dark-skinned man who flashed them all a handsome smile. “Everyone, this is Thresh. Thresh, why don’t you join Delly in front of the camera?”

“Sure,” he said easily and walked over to Delly, holding out his hand. “I’m Thresh.”

Delly shook it, her mouth widening in a grin. “Delly.”

“Okay, whenever you’re ready,” Johanna told the two.

Nodding, Delly bent over, pressing her palms to the floor. Then as she steadied, the woman easily lifted her hips…then her legs…before straightening them, her toes pointing in the air.

“Amazing,” Madge whispered.

Next to her, Gale nodded in agreement.

Katniss stood from her seat, going to Finnick, and looked at the camera’s viewfinder.

Delly and Thresh made a strikingly good couple on camera. They were at ease, chatting as if Delly wasn’t in front of the man’s crotch and at a perfect angle to go at his junk.

“Thresh, any special skills?” Gale asked, handing Johanna the man’s resume.

“I can get an erection on command,” Thresh told them.

“Okay, we all need to see this,” Johanna said. “Someone get Peeta and Annie in here.”

“Delly, you can get off your hands now,” Katniss said.

“Let me help—” Thresh held her hips as Delly eased down. As she did, the crotch of her leggings met his groin, and she wrapped her legs around his to steady herself.

“The perfect standing wheelbarrow,” Finnick remarked from behind the camera. “Bravo!”

Peeta and Annie stepped inside as Thresh helped Delly onto her feet. She smiled gratefully, kissing his cheek before dashing over to where the rest of the group was gathered.

“Even if you don’t hire me, I need to see this,” she told them.

Peeta joined Katniss’ side. “What are we looking at?”

Finnick signaled Thresh. “Whenever you’re ready.”

The man simply undid the top button of his jeans, unzipped, and holding the sides of his jeans lowered them down.

Taking a deep breath, the man closed his eyes, as the group watched his cock—a rather thick one—go from half-mast to full in less than a minute.

“Well, that deserves some applause,” Peeta told everyone and began to clap.

The group quickly joined in, but not before hiring both Delly and Thresh.

++++++

“Okay, two things,” Gale announced, going to the easel and whiteboard that he had set up in their living room. He wrote out ‘Location’ and ‘Plot’. “First, location. Any thoughts?”

“We can’t just do it in one of our apartments?” Finnick asked.

“Would you want to sit on your living room couch thinking that Johanna ate Delly out on it?” Gale asked him. “Or Katniss and Peeta on your kitchen counter—”

“True,” Annie said. “Let’s not shit where we eat.”

“Maybe we can rent out space for very cheap,” Thresh said. “I might know some club places where I work security that might be in our price range.”

They learned that Thresh was a part-time security guard and a returning student at the local community college. He was trying to get his Business degree and planned to open a gym after he graduated.

“Great idea,” Gale wrote down, ‘Thresh-club spaces’. Anyone else?”

“That bar I work at might be willing,” Delly told them. “I might have to give the owner a boost—”

“No way,” Peeta interrupted. “We don’t want you doing those kinds of favors just to get us a workspace.”

“Definitely,” Katniss agreed, smiling at the girl. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“Okay, what about a plot?” Johanna went to the board. “Every porn needs one to entice an audience. Why don’t we do a round robin and everyone says one thing that turns them on? I’ll start.” She turned around and wrote on the board—‘A clean bush’.

“Doesn’t everyone like it to be clean down there?” Finnick remarked before looking to Annie. “I mean you keep it pristine—”

“No need to tell everyone about my cat, love,” his fiancée retorted.

“I mean, I don’t mind it being wild down there,’ Gale told the group. He took the marker from Johanna and scribbled, ‘Bossiness’. “I like a dominating woman.”

“Definitely a good BDSM storyline,” Madge remarked as she walked up to the board, writing ‘Rough play’. “I like manhandling and being manhandled. I worked with this guy and we use to hook up all over the office. Once after everyone left, we were going at it and he takes me and lifted me—” She mimicked her lover with her hands. “—onto the copy machine before pounding the living daylight out of me.”

Everyone stared in shock at the seemingly sweet blonde twirling a tendril of her hair.

“Come Monday, everyone was trying to figure why there were a hundred copies of someone’s bare pussy on the copy machine tray,” she said in a daze.

“Damn—” Gale swallowed harshly. “—thank you for your contribution.” His gaze went to the person sitting next to Madge. “Katniss?”

“I…I…” Katniss bowed her head. She wasn’t thrilled with everyone knowing just what got her going. However, at some point, they were all going to be seeing her being thoroughly fucked by Peeta. “I like…dirty talk.” She shifted in her seat, aware that next to her sat her soon-to-be co-star. “I don’t have any experience, but when I’m…masturbating, the voice in my head is usually whispering very depraved things in my ear.”

“Care to expand, sweetheart?” Thresh asked from where he sat across.

“Well—” Katniss folded her hands in her lap. “The voice will tell me how much he loves feeling his fingers being squeezed by my cunt, how drenched I am around his dick, how he wants to fuck me until I can’t feel my legs…sometimes he talks about fucking me in both holes…his dick in my pussy and his thumb in my asshole—”

Peeta suddenly jumped from his spot. “I’m going to grab some water from the fridge. Anyone?”

He quickly disappeared into the next room before anyone could even answer.

“You just gave Peeta a boner,” Delly cackled from her seat on the carpet. “Why aren’t you dating?”

“Because—” Katniss searched for a reason, finding herself unable to answer. “—let me check on him.”

She found him bent in front of the fridge.

He pulled back sans water and turned just as she stepped in.

“We ran out of water.” Peeta met her eyes fully, watching as she approached. “I didn’t mean to run off—”

“Peeta, what turns you on?” she found herself asking.

Katniss stopped in front of him and her gaze took her friend in—swept-back blond waves, a firm jaw, and blue eyes…hazed with arousal. They never really talked about the fact that they had admitted to their friends that they were curious about fucking one another.

To be entirely truthful, the voice in her ear, the one that spoke such deliciously sinful things—was Peeta’s voice.

She didn’t know when the mystery man had morphed into her best friend, but sometimes the image of him—in his usual uniform of a pair of jeans, a tee, and an apron—would cause a heat that threatened to burn her to the very core.

However, this precipice between friendship and whatever it was, scared her.

So, Katniss held back.

Peeta shook his head. “It’s kind of stupid.”

“I just told everyone that a mystery voice gets me wet with talk of double penetration.”

He laughed roughly. “That is true.”

Meeting her eyes, Peeta leaned back against the door of the fridge.

“I like sex in different places…the element of danger…of being caught.” His golden complexion tinged with pink. “It’s a major turn-on.”

She nodded, toeing in closer to him. “Have you ever—"

“No, just fantasies,” Peeta said. “Compared to the rest of our friends, I’m pretty daisy fresh.”

“Tell me the last place that you’ve fantasized having sex in,” Katniss said. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” he replied, his hand reaching to cup her cheek.

His thumb grazed the corner of her mouth and she resisted the urge to take it into her mouth to taste.

“The bakery.” His gaze fell to her lips. “Specifically, against one of the ovens as it’s warming up and y—whoever and I just get so caught up in the smell of sugar…of rye…and one another that we don’t know where the heat is rising from—”

Katniss suddenly straightened. “Ohmigod…the bakery.”

“What?”

“The bakery,” she repeated.

His eyes widened in realization. “The bakery.”

END OF PART ONE

This will be multiple parts, not sure how many though.

Yes, before you ask, this is loosely based on Zack and Miri Make a Porno which I think is a hilarious movie with some great music.

Speaking of music, the title comes from Live’s ‘Hold Me Up’, which was used in the soundtrack of Zack and Miri. It also plays during a pivotal scene.

Other music used: ‘The Sign’-Ace of Base

I hope you’re enjoying it so far—as if now, I have just completed the second part.

Thanks for reading!

-JLaLa

[wiener-soldiers]

heal my soul with your lips - tommy shelby

request: “idea: tommy with a singer or just someone that's musically talented” from anon

summary: a melodic voice helped him through the depths of hell once. the same melodic voice finds him once more or tommy shelby recognizes the sweet voice of nurse that sung to the soldiers in france in a jazz club in london.

pairing: tommy shelby x fem!reader (race non-specific)

words: 3.9k

warnings: some themes of ptsd (it’s subtle), jealous tommy!

a/n: based off this head cannon. also, the song i used was “through the valley” by shawn james and IK it’s not period accurate; the song just fits the show so well i couldn’t not use it. also also, ik made the name of the club an awful combination of french and english. i speak french so ik it’s awful, but it’s intentional.

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist! | faq

Tommy Shelby heard you before he met you.

He was in a field hospital in God-knows where. Somewhere in France, obviously, but he didn’t remember where exactly. They were ordered to keep pushing forward, but with his days underground and his endless tunnelling, it was impossible to know how much ground they had covered.

As it turns out, he was closer to the enemy lines than he realized and a brief but bloody squabble in a tunnel under the gunfire left him with a stab wound in his leg.

He practically dragged himself to a field hospital before plopping himself on the nearest empty cot. His condition wasn’t terrible, a nurse had told him, as the knife had missed a major blood vessel. But the prospect of living another day didn’t excite Tommy, it was the promise that he would probably be one of the later patients to be treated and he could rest in an actual cot instead of the cold, wet ground, even for a few hours.

He laid in the bed, trying not to aggravate his wound further, and slowly shut his eyes. Strangely, he felt tranquil. Yes, he could hear the screams of soldiers, the cries of anguish, the gunfire and the shells dropping, but he felt at peace. Laying undisturbed at the Somme was a win for him.

Suddenly, he hears a voice cut through the violent sounds that filled the ear. It  was hauntingly beautiful, so much so that Tommy wondered if that the nurse who had spoken to him at first had been wrong and he was on the brink of death.

But the voice persisted. Soft. Unrelenting. Beautiful. He assumed that the woman singing was further within the hospital, closer to the more severe patients. The cries and screams of the men seemed to stop and even the battlefield seemed to quiet. It’s like everyone took breath to hear her voice, Allies and Central powers alike.

The juxtaposition between beauty and darkness was almost too much for Tommy as he felt his chest start to squeeze. He suddenly felt nostalgic for home, for his family, for his brothers. Instead, he was fighting in a war that wasn’t his.

“Sergeant Major Shelby,” a voice calls. It’s a new nurse this time and she looks as exhausted as he is. He notices the tray she’s carrying and how it’s full of medical equipment. He sighs; it was time to get his stitches and his moment of tranquility was now over.

---

Years later, he and his brothers are walking through the streets of London like the own the city. It was comical, really. Tommy had just started a war with Darby Sabini, one of the most influential men in London, and he had the confidence of a man who had just killed a hundred men single-handedly.

The Shelby brothers hopped from club to club, drinking in the lavish London lifestyle which paled in comparison to the more humble pubs back in Birmingham. Though his brothers couldn’t help but try their hands at some snow (and even something stronger), Tommy kept his distant, trying to stay aware.

Eventually, their energy began to die down and the brother stumbled into their final club for the evening. It was quieter than the others, Tommy notices, but perhaps it’s because the night was getting quite late.

The club was painted a deep red with gold decor to compliment, but what stuck out to him was the rest of the decorations: military medals, entire walls lined with them. Batered Union Jacks hung from door archways, ones that looked like they had been brought back from France. Finally, a wall full of photographs of men in their uniforms. Veterans, Tommy realized. The one’s that didn’t make it home, he noticed, as their birth and death years were on display. He then notices the vases filled with poppies on nearly every table and every spare ledge.

And then a voice.

“I walk through the valley of the shadow of death

and I fear no evil because I’m blind to it all.”

It feels as if the air from Tommy’s lungs had been sucked out. It was the same voice from the Somme. It was louder now and he could hear it more clearly...it was even more beautiful than he remembered.

“And my mind and my gun, they comfort me,

because I know I’ll kill my enemies when they come.”

His chest starts to squeeze again, just like it did when he was on that cot in the cramped field hospital. He froze, seemingly transported back to the warfront. His brothers paid him no mind however, as they stumbled to the bar to order a drink.

“Surely goodness and mercy will follow me 

all the days of my life,

and I’ll dwell on this Earth forevermore.”

“You served?” a voice calls to him. It’s a man who’s slumped in a chair, staring at the medals on the wall in melancholy.

“Yes,” Tommy answers curtly.

“You have that look about you,” the drunken man says. “All soldiers get that look when she sings that song.”

“Said, I walk beside the still waters

and they restore my soul.”

“You see a lot of soldiers here, then?” Tommy asks the man.

He laughs, shaking his head sadly. He lifts he glass up to Tommy and says candidly, “Brother, I am one. This is where the soldiers with the Flanders Blues come. Too violent to fit back into normal life, too tired to fight another war aside from the one in our own heads.”

“But I can’t walk on the path of the right

because I’m a wrong.”

Tommy finally looks at the direction of the singing and locks eyes with you. You’re standing on a small stage at the end of the club, swaying to the haunting jazz tune of the piano. Behind you was a large Union Jack, soot stained in the fabric and filled with bullet holes. You were a vision, in Tommy’s eyes. You sung beautifully into the microphone, your satin red dress accentuating the dips and curves in your body. The men in the pub, most likely soldiers according to the drunk man Tommy spoke to, stared at you in wonder and sadness. You seemed to be an enigmatic cure for their sorrows. You sung of tragedy and sadness, but you seemed to be the light guiding them through the darkness. Tommy fell into your trance as quickly as the other men.

“Said, I walk beside the still waters

and they restore my soul.

But I know when I die,

my soul is damned.”

You held your final note as the pianist hit the final key and the crowd clapped in muted and bittersweet cheer. You still smiled, understanding that a large reaction wasn’t appropriate especially given the men in the room knew that death was nothing glorious. A few men walked up to you, sincerely thanking you through their unshed tears before leaving the club to return to their families. You conversed with the pianist as you sipped a glass of water when you noticed that his expression began to falter.

“Mr. Shelby,” the pianist stutered out, looking over your shoulder at someone behind you.

You turned to look behind you and noticed the man who had caught your stare approaching. His face was hardened and his aura was dark and dangerous, but you saw through it immediately. He was no different from the veterans who flocked to the pub every night.

“Evening,” Mr. Shelby replied. “You know who I am?” he asks, voice neutral but laced in curiosity. He had just come to London, even he was slightly surprised about his reach.

The pianist nods, “My cousin works in one of your factories, sir.”

Mr. Shelby curtly nods before saying, “You wouldn’t mind if I spoke to the lady then, would you?”

“Of course, good evening to you both,” he says respectfully before turning to leave.

“Mr. Shelby then, is it?” you say without the intimidation in your voice. You’ve been through and seen a lot in France and you know how the men acted when no one was watching when they returned home. It was going to take a lot for you to feel intimidated. “What can I help you with?”

“You were a nurse, weren’t you? You were at the Somme,” he says, though it didn’t seem like a question.

Your eyes widen, taken aback slightly by his forwardness and his accurate description of your time as a nurse on the front. “I was. Have we met?”

Tommy shakes his head no. “I was getting stitches in a field hospital when I heard your voice,” he explains.

You laugh lightly, though it feels strained. Tommy understands why. “The men find it easier to take the pain if I sing to them.”

“Is that why you sing here? In front of all these broken soldiers?” he asks. You can’t tell if he’s being condescending or curious. It was hard to read men like him, despite the practice you had every day.

You decide to answer honestly, hoping that it would allow you to see the man he was on the inside. “I was too hot-headed to stay a nurse after the war, but I still wanted to help because I knew most of the men were as broken, if not more, once the returned home than they were in France. So, here I am. The singing seemed to help them in France, why not let it help them here as well?” you say softly, still bravely staring at his face. You watch his facade crack, just a little.

“You think I’m like the rest of them, then? A soldier too tired to fight another war except for the one in his own head?” he asks, testing her.

You don’t falter and reach forward to flick his collar where blood had spattered from his fight in Sabini’s club. “I think you died back there. In France, I mean. So, you keep finding and fighting new wars to distract yourself from the one goin’ on in your head.”

You worry that your candor is too much for him, but Tommy stares at you in what you could only call as affectionately.

“Was this place always a pub for soldiers, then?” Tommy asks, hearing himself become more comfortable.

You laugh, eyes crinkling slightly, and Tommy finds the sound as addicting as your voice. “You’re definitely new around here,” you tease. “Before the war, this club was full of classist, elistist toffs who rejoiced the King. None of them faught. When the war was over, the soldiers basically drove them out with their horrific stories of France and their despise for the Crown. Turned it into the place it is today. The owner’s son served and he was more than happy for the change.”

“How’d you end up here?”

“So many questions, Mr. Shelby,” you continue to tease, hoping to get a reaction out of him.

“I find you very intriguing,” he remplies simply, pulling out a cigarette.

“You don’t even know my name,” you point out.

The corner of his lip quirks upwards and you find yourself grinning slightly at your success. “It’s Y/N. Reckon I should spare you from the pain of suspense,” you say, breaking out into a smile as you do so.

“Tommy,” he says, grabbing your hand and pressing his lips to it.

“Oi, Tom!” a thick Brummie accent shouts through the club. “Arthur’s piss-faced and can barely fuckin’ walk. We should go.”

Tommy sighs against your knuckles and you giggle slightly. “Your brothers?” you ask, making note of a younger man attempting to haul an older one with a moustache out of a bar stool.

“Hmm,” he nods, before taking a step back. “Can I see you again?”

“You know where I work,” you tease and he rolls his eyes in an amused manner.

“I was thinking dinner,” he says boldly and you grin.

“Come back tomorrow and ask me again,” you smirk before brushing past him and walking into the back room.

---

Tommy did come back the next night and asked again. You said yes, slightly shocked that he fufilled your request. He didn’t seem like the type of man particularly fond of taking orders, but rather the type of man who often gave them. If being around veterans every day taught you anything, it was how to read those who didn’t want to be read.

Your dinner date turned into two, then three, then weekly visits from Tommy, then weekends spent alone in your apartment, then you visiting Birmingham, then you meeting his family. Neither of you had talked about where exactly you stood in a relationship because it was seemingly obvious.

Tommy was infatuated with you and you easily returned the sentiment.

He had learned that you aren’t really from anywhere because you moved around countless times with your parents as they tried to find work. So, it wasn’t too hard to convince you to move to Birmingham to live with him after nearly a year of courting.

You had been slightly pained at the prospect of leaving your old club behind, especially since the owner was getting old and his son was involved in his own medical career to take over the business, so Tommy made a quick move to buy the club from him and began running it as one of his legitimate businesses in London.

It’s a gift, he had told you but that didn’t stop you from nearly burst into tears. That club meant a lot to you, as it was a safe haven for both you and the soldiers it serviced. Tommy had put you in charge, so you hired a few people—all veterans, most of them regulars who were eager to help keep the business alive—to manage the place while you were in Birmingham. Every few weeks, you’d make the trip to London for a few performances. Though you hired new girls to sing, the club was still filled like no other night when you were in town. You called it The Club Infirmerie, an ode to the field hospital in the Somme where Tommy had first heard you sing. More and more veterans flocked there to heal amongst the music and amonst their fellow soldiers, just as you hoped.

When you were in Birmingham, you involved yourself in business where you could. You had no problem with the kind of work Tommy was involved in, to his delight, but there was still a lot you didn’t fully understand. Polly did her best to groom you in the more complex side of business, but you still gravitated to a more manegerial role. So, Tommy put you in charge of most logistics of the factories and clubs he owned. Your favourite establishment, however, was The Garrison.

“Look’s a little like the Inifirmerie, Tommy,” you teased him as he showed you around The Garrison for the first time, arm slung around your shoulders as you gazed at the decor of the pub.

“I may have gotten some design inspiration from you, darlin’,” he hummed, pressing kiss to your temple.

Like The Club Infermerie, you had set up a small stage, piano, and microphone to have performers in The Garrison. When you were doing this, Tommy opened up and explained why there had been no singing in his pub before; the pub was void of singing becauase of Grace and her betrayal. You kissed him softly, a reminder that you were different and that were staying. Tommy’s heart swelled as you found another way to slowly heal his soul with your lips.

On that particular Friday, The Garrison was more full than usual, partly because there had been word that you were to perform a set that evening. The bar was bustling as men and women of all backgrounds ordered drink after drink. You, Harry, and Arthur had a hard time keeping up, so you inlisted the help of Finn and Isaiah who had been sharing a pint with some younger Peaky’s at the end of the bar.

“Oi! Finn, ‘Saiah, c’mere!” you shout, filling another pint.

“What is it, Y/N?” Finn asks as he approached you, Isaiah in tow.

“Hop ‘round the back and take over for a bit, will ya?” you ask quickly, wiping your hands on the skirt of your work dress. “I need to prepare for my set.”

"Course,” Isaiah says kindly and agreed to help right away, though you aren’t blind to the small crush the younger boy harbored towards you, which is probably why he had been eager to help.

Finn, however, groans. The effect of being seen as a sibling to him, you suppose. “’S what hiring more people’s for, Y/N,” he complains, dragging his feet as you approach him. “Why’d I gotta do it?”

You squint your eyes playfully at Finn before saying, “I’ll let you have a glass of whiskey.”

“And you won’t let Tommy take it away?” he says skeptically.

“I won’t let Tommy take it away,” you confirm.

Finn perks back up again and pecks your cheek before shouting, “This is why I like you better than Tommy!” You laugh to yourself as you slip into the snug to change out of your work dress into a fancy, silk one. It’s one Tommy had purchased on a business trip to London because he said it reminded him of what you were wearing when you first met. The dress was long, almost a gown, but it still abandonned the old, Edwardian silhouette in favour of a more modern one. In fact, the dress was more scandoulous than most, with the neckline and back dipping deep into your chest and back and a slit in the skirt as climbing as high as your thigh. The red of the dress was deep and luxiourious, matching the walls of The Garrison.

The moment you stepped out of the snug, it’s like the crowd had parted for you and allowed you to walk through the pub interrupted until you reached the stage. It’s not the awe of your presence that drawed you to keep singing, but the calmness and tranquility that followed. Throughout your set, the peaceful daze that fell over the pub persisted. Tommy had entered The Garrison halfway through the set, having just finished business, and he fell back into your spell just as easily as everyone else. He loved that about you—how easily you could calm a rowdy crowd. It meant you could just as easily calm his thundering and monstrous soul. He leaned on the threshold of the snug, watching you sing with a content smile on his face.

When the set was over, the crowd errupted into applause. Women flocked forward and gushed to you about your performance and men stared longingly from afar. You were Tommy’s girl and they knew you weren’t to be trifled with. 

Unfortunately, someone had not gotten the message. Rather, he got the message but simply didn’t care.

Tommy noticed Finn and Isaiah behind the bar and apporached them curiously. Upon seeing his brother, Finn grinned at him.

“Whiskey, Tom?” Finn asks cheekily. He knows the answer will be yes anyway, so he starts preparing his drink.

“What’re you doin’ behind the bar?” Tommy asks, accepting the whiskey from Finn.

“Y/N asked us to help because she needed to prepare for the set,” Isaiah explains, filling up another pint.

Tommy smirks at him. “I know why you’re helping behind the bar, Isaiah,” he jokes, referring to the crush the young Blinder has on his girl, “I was asking why Finn was.”

“Can’t I just be a helping hand?”

“She offered you whiskey, didn’t she?”

Finn groans. “C’mon, Tom! Just this once? She said she wouldn’t let you take it away! It’s been ages since you let me have a glass.”

“What about that time Y/N patched you up after getting into a pub fight, eh?” Tommy notes, teasing his brother further. “Nearly had half a bottle there ‘cos you wouldn’t stop fuckin’ wailin’.”

“I was in pain,” Finn defends himself, but with no malice in his voice. He liked that he could joke around with his brother again; that was all your doing. “’S not my fault the bloke stabbed me with a rusty fuckin’ knife.”

“Sorta is, Finny boy.”

“Uh, Tommy?” Isaiah interrupts with a confused look on his face as he stares in the distance. “Is he supposed to be doing that?” he continues, nodding in your direction.

Tommy turns his head in your direction and his jaw clenches.

“I’m tellin’ ya, love, your voice? Fan-fucking-tastic. Couldn’t have captured the sound of heaven betta’ meself,” the man talking to you chuckled, placing a large hand on your waist.

You tried your best not to get flustered, “I’m really glad you enjoyed it Mr. Solo—”

“Alfie.”

Both you and Alfie turned to face Tommy who was staring at the later with more distate than you’ve ever seen.

“Ah, Tommy! Good to see you, m’friend,” Alfie cheers loudly, sticking his hand out for Tommy to shake. Tommy’s doesn’t budge.

“I see you’re getting reaquainted with Y/N,” Tommy notes bitterly. You catch Tommy’s stare and you almost laugh at how jealous he’s getting.

“What can I say, Tom? She’s a sight to see. And hear for that matter,” Alfie jokingly puts his hand on his chin inquisitivley. “I wonder what she sounds like in b—”

“Right, that’s enough,” Tommy hisses, grabbing your hand and dragging you away. He can hear Alfie’s booming laughter in the distance as he pulls you into the snug. Luckily, it’s empty.

“Tom—”

You’re interrupted by a harsh kiss to the mouth, with Tommy’s hands wrapping themselves around your waist as he backs you into the table, forcing you to sit on it.

“Well, hello love,” you giggle against his lips. “What’re you doin’, handsome?”

“Didn’t like the way he was looking at you. Or touchin’ you,” he grumbles harshly, moving his lips to your neck.

“You’re not one to act like that in public. In front of him for that matter,” you note, letting your hands squeeze Tommy’s hair as he kisses and especially sensitive spot.

“Can’t help it,” you says against your neck and you snort.

“Yeah you can, darlin’,” you say, pulling away to look at him. “Everything alright?”

Tommy stares at you, mentally debating with himself, before saying, “That bastard was supposed to meet me today before I came here but he bailed. Came here pissed to the fucking moon ‘til I heard you sing. Turns out, he was here watching you up close while I was in my office waiting for his fuckin’ pompous ass.”

“Probably just wanted to rile you up,” you say ernestly. “Don’t let him.”

Tommy kisses you again before muttering against your lips, “If where this is going is me getting riled up, I wouldn’t be opopsed.”

You almost let out a moan, but choke it back and say, “Tom, someone’ll hear!”

Tommy pulls away, a mischevious smirk and a dark look in his eye forming. “He wants to know what you sound like, eh? Let him.”

[americasass81]

Because You Loved Me

Warnings:- Mentions of Surgery, Mental and Emotional Exhaustion, Very Brief Mention of Drugging, Fluff, M & F Smut (more implied than outright described).  Do not read if any of these warnings are upsetting.  Feedback is welcomed.

By proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

Synopsis:- Feeling low from the grind of daily life, your man tries his best to bring a little light back to your life.

A/N:- Though not a sequel, in my mind this can take place in the same AU as my other Brock fic, Peeling Back The Layers.  Yet both can be read independently of each other.  Written with @saiyanprincessswanie in mind but at the same time it is still a pretty generic pile of fluff.  Hope you like Missy.

Word Count:- 3,165

You were exhausted . . . mentally, emotionally, physically.  You ached deep down in places you never knew you could and the more you thought about it, the more exhausted you became.  As the night's respite gave way to morning's light, your first thought always seemed to be 'how do I face another day?'  Yet somehow you always found a way.  Despite the knocks life kept sending your way and the weariness weighing down your soul, you were at heart a positive person and was determined to embrace the good things in life no matter how hard that may be.

With that thought in your head, you dragged your feet out of bed and making your way to the bathroom, used the facilities and showered under the warm, refreshing water before returning to your bedroom to get ready for the day ahead.  Heading to the kitchen to make a quick breakfast you ate in silence as you waited for Brock to show up.  Thinking back on the almost six months since that fateful day he came to your rescue, it had been one adventure after another.

Despite all your health issues and the unpleasant grind of daily life, this gruff looking man had become a balm for your slowly fracturing soul.  Taking you places you never thought you'd see, while telling you he loved you every chance he got, you still wondered what you had done in this life or any other to deserve him.

Finishing up your food, you deposited the bowl in the sink and thought about what you might do for the day, but found you couldn't really find the motivation.  Instead, taking the latest mystery novel you were reading, you headed out to the back garden to hopefully relax and catch up on another chapter.  Getting a few pages in however, you suddenly dropped the book in your lap as tears inexplicably cascaded down your cheeks.

Feeling lower than you had in a really long time, you were shocked to open your eyes to discover yourself nestled against a strong chest as two powerful arms wrapped around you.  "My love, why do these tears stain your beautiful cheeks?" Brock asked and you had to smile a bit at the fact that what should have sounded cheesy actually sounded sweet.  "I hate seeing you like this," he added before you could answer, "please tell me what's wrong."

Looking at the man who had come to mean so much to you in such a short space of time, you snuggled deeper into his chest as you thought about all the negative thoughts weighing on your soul.  Looking up at him eventually as he waited patiently for you to speak, you took a deep breath and thought carefully about what you wanted to say.

"I don't really know Brock, I guess I just feel like one raw, emotional nerve.  The world seems so full of needless hate, my upcoming surgery has me scared and exhausted and sometimes I don't know why you're here with me or what I even have to offer this world." you explained and it hurt him deeply that the girl who saw so much good in him and helped awaken and nurture it, was now questioning her own worth.

Taking time to dry your tears, this powerhouse of a man who never thought he would be worthy of anything waited until he was sure you had talked yourself out before speaking.  "Oh my love, please know that while your feelings are valid and you have every right to be exhausted, you are also a shining light in the darkest night."

Gazing down at you with more love than he ever thought he was capable of feeling, he bent forwards and kissed you tenderly, hoping to convey all the emotion his heart held for you.  Continuing to hold you a while longer, he soon found you fast asleep in his arms and so taking you inside, placed you lovingly on the bed before heading to the bathroom to clean up.  Looking at himself in the mirror he hoped with every fiber of his being he would be able to find his sweet, beautiful girl again and bring her home.

Returning to the bedroom to dress quickly and quietly, he placed a soft kiss against your forehead and whispered he loved you before heading to the living room to make good on his plan.  Knowing that you always put everyone before yourself and that you didn't like to put people out, he also knew that a break back in nature was just what you needed.  Arranging everything with an old friend, all he had to worry about now was moving you from a to b without you objecting.

Hearing you stirring around the bedroom some time later, he hurried in and told you that if you were feeling up to it he'd take you to your favorite restaurant, otherwise he'd happily cook for you and come up with some way to help you relax.  Looking at him like he'd suddenly grown two heads, you blurted out the question on your lips before you could stop yourself.  "Are you telling me you know how to cook?  Something other than tea and toast?"

Smirking at your cheek to cast aspersions on his cooking ability, he swiftly traversed the space between you and taking you gently in his arms, kissed you with a passion that all but took your breath away before speaking as he ran his hands along your back.  "How are you doing baby?  Did the rest help any bit?"

Sinking into his warm and loving embrace, you wondered what you had done right to end up with this loving and thoughtful man.  Sure some people still saw him as a gruff outsider, but to you he was your rock.  Someone you knew in the depths of your soul would gladly take on your suffering if it meant you got to live a life free of pain and worry.  Concerned by your non response, he moved a hand to your chin and cupping it gently, gazed into your ethereal features while he waited for you to find your voice.

"Yeah, some bit." you replied meekly, taking his hand and kissing his palm before bringing your fingers together.  "I don't know.  I just wish I could get away from it all for a while.  Somewhere the stress and worry of being me wouldn't follow.  Crazy right?"

"No baby," he said, walking both of you towards the bed before sitting down and placing you in his lap, "that's not crazy at all.  Your battery's probably running on empty.  What you need is a few days away from the world."

"Yeah right Brock and how can that happen?” you laughed, swatting him playfully on the arm.  “I have doctor's appointments out my ass and you have work commitments.  It's a nice dream, but that's all it is." you sighed, resting your head against his shoulder as he hummed some unknown song against your skin.  "By the way, did you mention something about food?" you asked suddenly and you both laughed as a very unladylike sound rumbled through your stomach.

"I did," Brock answered between snickers, "but something tells me even if I didn't, my girl needs rations."  Then releasing you and walking hand in hand to the kitchen he sat you down at the table and went about preparing a glorious meal.  Finally filling you up with wine, pasta and brownies from your favorite bakery, he coaxed you onto the couch with a good book while he began cleaning the kitchen and by the time he was finished you were once again fast asleep and he could begin implementing his plan.

Moving swiftly and stealthily around the house with the skill only someone in his previous profession could master, he packed a bag of essentials for each of you, threw them in the back seat and then lifting you gently, carried you to the car and secured you in place.  While he had thought about drugging you to make sure you slept through the drive, he knew you wouldn't appreciate that and so offered up a silent plea that you wouldn't wake until morning.  Then setting off into the night, he hoped the next few days would recharge your battery and reignite your dimming light.

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Waking up the next morning to a warm body at your back, which had become the norm since Brock Rumlow entered your life, you worried you had actually lost your mind as you opened your eyes to be greeted by a room that wasn't your own.  Further cementing your out of body experience, you pulled back the covers to reveal that you were currently wearing your favorite comfy sleepwear when your last conscious memory was falling asleep on the couch after dinner.  Looking now between your surroundings and your boyfriend, you quickly realized some major shenanigans were at play and taking a pillow, proceeded to start whacking the sleeping giant beside you.

"Brock?  Hey Brock?  RUMLOW." you eventually shouted while bringing the pillow down with as much force as you could muster.  "What the hell is going on here?" you asked as he opened his eyes and stared up at you.

"Baby, keep it down.  It's still early." he whined, reaching out to pull you down gently against his waiting body.  Kissing every available inch of skin his lips could find, he carefully and easily rolled over you, removed your shorts as he rested between your legs and proceeded to eat you out twice until you were nothing more than a blissed out mess beneath him.  Then leaving the bed to retrieve a cloth, he cleaned you up while you questioned what was to be done with the prominent bulge hidden within his boxers.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about that baby.  This trip is all about helping you unwind.  Now how about we get up, have some breakfast and I can show you around?"

Agreeing half-heartedly as your eyes still lingered on his crotch, he promised he might let you cop a feel at some point.  Laughing at his crass choice of language, having just brought you to two of the most pleasurable orgasms you could ever remember experiencing, he helped you out of bed and handed you a duffle bag before reaching for what you could only assume was his own.  Pulling open the zipper, you were both surprised but not, when you discovered a few days worth of clothes inside.  Taking out some jeans and a t-shirt you dressed in time to see Brock put away his bag and reach out his hand for yours.

Opening up the bedroom door, he explained the bathroom connected to both the bedroom and the living room, while the kitchen made up the rest of the cottage.  Allowing you out the front door while he made a start on breakfast, you discovered the cottage called Daisy Grove, was aptly named given that the cottage was indeed surrounded on either end by the most beautiful patches of wild daisies you had ever seen.

Watching the birds flying and nestling in the trees all around you, you took a few tentative steps off the porch along the scrub lined path and relished the sound of twigs and leaves underfoot as nature sang as far as you could hear.  Totally engrossed in your own world, you were unaware of a keen set of eyes now following you from the door as Brock watched you slip away into a space that brought joy to your heart and a lightness to your spirit.

Hating to drag you away from the one thing that seemed to bring you peace, you turned back sharply towards the door as Brock called your name.  "Breakfast is ready, my love.  Perhaps after we've eaten I can introduce you to the treasures awaiting you out the back door.  Running carefully back to your man, you threw yourself into his strong arms and all but squealed as he picked you up and carried you inside.

Sitting you at the table as he plated up the food, he tried to eat as best he could as you juggled between eating your own breakfast and firing any question you could think of at him.  Enjoying how invested you were in the wonderful property you currently inhabited, you having to take a sip of juice as you nearly choked was enough of a risk for the former soldier.  "Baby please, I say this with the utmost respect, but shut up." he laughed as your breathing returned to normal and you playfully stuck out your tongue at him.  "I promise I'll answer any more questions you have once we finish eating."

Nodding in agreement, the rest of breakfast was eaten in silence until Brock got up to clear the table and your questions began again.  "Where did you find this place?  How long are we staying?  What is there to do around here?"  Oh that last question he answered with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

"What we're going to do here is everything and anything that calms your soul, warms your heart and makes your spirit soar.  In short, all the things you've done for me."  Smiling now as he took your hand and led you out the back, your eyes widened when you saw the river waiting before you.  Though totally unsure about the boat Brock pointed to, you placed your trust in him and was pleasantly surprised when a wonderful, relaxing day was had.

Treating you then to a wonderful dinner, the rest of the evening was spent relaxing in front of an open fire with a sappy romantic comedy before Brock carried your tired form back to bed, where allowing his cock to get reacquainted with your pussy, you once again had a gloriously peaceful sleep.

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Facing the world anew at sunrise, the next few days were everything Brock had promised and you couldn't remember when you last felt so well rested.  Feeling so carefree at this moment in your life as a result of the routine your wonderful man had set up, waking you up every morning with his mouth attached to your pussy, your days were then spent leisurely walking through the surrounding area, enjoying boating and Brock fishing on the river along with foot rubs, reading or watching various rom coms.

Then once he had you properly fed on spaghetti with wine and brownies or steak with baked potato and chocolate chip cookies after, he would ensure that one way or another your world was rocked before sleep claimed you.  You even remembered the fun that was had on your last day when Brock had tried unsuccessfully to get you to eat some of the fish the river had provided.

Telling him in no uncertain terms that you would not eat anything you had watched him kill while in the middle of baking brownies and cookies together, half an hour later as a glorious smell filled the cottage and Brock's solid shaft filled your pussy, you finally discovered the real fun that could be had baking together.

When he finally had you satisfied and removed the delicious treats out of the oven, Brock informed you he was going to do a quick sweep of the property before you left in the morning.  Snuggling into the couch with a good book, that was exactly where Brock found you an hour later when he finally returned to the cottage.  "Hey baby, you still where I left you?" Brock called out as he closed the door behind him.

Looking into the living room before you had a chance to answer, he was indeed rewarded with you stretched on the couch bathed in the glow of the firelight.  Swearing that he had never in his life seen anything so heavenly, he sauntered into your presence with a sly smirk on his face and his hands hidden behind his back.  "Hey Brock, you were gone quite a bit.  Is everything alright?"

"Everything's perfect baby.  Everything's tied up or put away as it should be, I just had to pick up something for you," and he couldn't hide the grin that graced his features as you suddenly sat up eager to see what he had for you.  "Now keep in mind it's nothing fancy, but it made me smile and think of you." he continued and with that he produced a beautifully woven circle of daisies.

Looking at him as he sat down beside you and placed it over your head, your eyes then fell on the flowers before speaking.  "It's beautiful Brock, but what is it?"

"It's a daisy chain baby.  Stronger than shackles and chains, it ties you to me forever.  Just like mine ties me to you," and with that he removed the t-shirt to reveal the chest you just now realized he had strategically kept covered since before this trip began.  The reason for this soon seared itself into your memory, when there above his heart was a tattoo of the same daisy chain you now wore, but in its center nestled your name.  Trailing his lips along your neck as they made their way towards your ear, his next words brought you to tears.  “Forgive my lips.” he whispered between pecks.  “They find joy . . . in the most unusual places.”

"Oh my god Brock, you are such a dork." you sniffled as you reached out and ran our fingers over the ink.  Kissing your lips passionately once again before resting his forehead against yours, he knew he would do whatever he had to to maintain the light once more shining in your eyes.

Still watching you play with the daisies, he quickly answered your playful statement before laying you down on the rug beside the fire.  "We both know I may be a dork my love, but I'm only your dork." he said, as he then proceeded to spend the night pulling you apart multiple times on his mouth, fingers and cock.  Thoroughly fucked and covered in sweat, cum and various parts of each other's bodies you closed your eyes and drifted off towards the approaching morning.

Rising before you once again, Brock set about loading everything back into the car before walking into the living room to wake you up.  Helping you from the rug and guiding you into the bathroom, a gloriously hot shower and Brock's skillful hands worked out all the knots sleeping on the floor had given you before breakfast filled the void in your stomach.  Then reluctantly driving away from your little retreat knowing he had to take you home so could face what lay ahead, he drew comfort from the fact that for the past few days you had once again been his beautiful north star, burning bright with the energy needed to conquer whatever your illness and life threw at you.

Tagging: @saiyanprincessswanie

[crystalstar8]

Knights of the Night (ch 14)

Chapter 14

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11, ch 12, ch 13, ch 14

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j  @daechwitad-2​ @zobadak​​

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing…

(smut is alluded to in this chapter, so I apologize to any family members who may be reading this👀)

              Once everyone had arrived at the mansion, Taehyung called them all into the dining room, where he had laid out a beautiful Christmas feast. There was a beef roast on one end and a ham on the other end. Between the two were potatoes, greens, fresh bread, fruit garnishes and jams, and an assortment of other sides.

              “Tae tae! You really outdid yourself today!” Hoseok exclaimed as he pulled a chair out for his mother. His mother was in her seventies, a tiny and soft-spoken woman. Hoseok’s sister sat beside their mother. Catalina was only briefly introduced to them, only to learn their names and thank his mother for the necklace, so she made sure to sit across from them. Jungkook took the seat beside her.

              “I want to ask them if they know anything about Hobi’s past,” Catalina whispered to him. He nodded.

              “That’s a good idea,” said Jungkook. “He’s always been a bit suspicious to me. I mean, we’re surrounded by these ancient vampires who had no problems telling us about all the people they’ve killed in the past, but I’m honestly most worried about him. If Yoongi could tell his story, why can’t Hoseok?”

              “Exactly,” said Catalina. “That’s what I was thinking.”

              Once everyone was settled at the table and most of the dishes had made the rounds, Catalina looked over at Hoseok’s sister, whose name was Jiwoo, she remembered.

             “So, I heard Hoseok’s been telling you two about us,” said Catalina. “I hope all good things.”

              “Of course, all good things!” Jiwoo laughed. “He’s been gushing about his new friends non-stop. Every time he visits, he tells us about some new adventure. He said you and Jimin are really good dancers.”

              “We’re really good at ballet,” said Catalina. “But Hoseok tried to teach us his style and we kind of sucked.”

              “I’m sure he didn’t fare any better in ballet,” Jiwoo said.

              “Not really,” Catalina said with a wide smile. Then she leaned in and lowered her voice. “So, I’m curious. How much has Hoseok told you about how he was turned?”

              Jiwoo pressed her lips into a thin line, then said, “Honestly, not much. I know the entire experience took a huge toll on him and he had to drop out of college because of it. We’ve asked him about it many times, but he never seems to want to talk about. I think it’s painful for him to bring up the memory.”

              “Oh,” Catalina looked over at Hoseok, who was laughing hysterically at a story Jimin was telling. She tried to imagine what he went through that made him so unwilling to share his story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

After dinner, the party retired to the ballroom, which definitely was a room Catalina didn’t know existed until now. She wondered how big this house actually was. She dreamed of just wandering around and exploring one day. Yoongi was sat at the grand piano at the end of the ballroom and began playing. Catalina knew he didn’t eat at dinner, she wondered if he was just waiting to come in here and play piano.

The ballroom wasn’t huge; it was the perfect size for a party like this. Crystal chandeliers lit the room and the music filled the air. Namjoon, his professor friend, Jiwoo, Jimmy K and Jin sat at the lounge in the corner of the room to chat, Jimin pulled a giggling Taehyung onto the dancefloor to dance, and Hoseok pulled his mother onto the floor to dance.

“May I?”

Catalina turned around. Jungkook was holding out his hand, a smile on his face. Catalina grinned and took his hand. He led her out to the dance floor and took her waist, pulling her closer.

Even after two dates and several weeks of officially dating, Jungkook still managed to make her blush when he held her close like this.

“I love this dress on you,” he said as they swayed to the music.

“Thank you,” said Catalina. “I had some inside information on you when I bought this. I heard you have a thing for red.”

“I do,” he said as he led her into a spin. “Did Jimin tell you?”

Catalina nodded and leaned in close to whisper in his ear.

“Just wait until you see what I’m wearing underneath.”

She heard his breath catch before he pulled her even closer. They glided across the floor, turning and swaying to the beat. When the song ended, Catalina felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Mind if I cut in?” Jimmy K asked Jungkook.

“I did promise to save him a dance,” said Catalina. She knew Jungkook wasn’t the jealous type, so she wasn’t surprised when he laughed and said, “Sure, why not?”

Jungkook left with a smile and a lingering hand on her bare back. Jimmy K swept her into a waltz as the next song began. She watched Jungkook take a seat by Namjoon, eyeing her with a dreamy smile on his face.

“You’ve got that boy completely wrapped around your finger,” said Jimmy K. Catalina giggled.

“I know,” she said. “Well, he’s got me too.”

“I can see that,” said Jimmy K. “I saw the little gift you left on his neck.”

Catalina laughed loudly at that and said, “You know what he said to me? He said, ‘you should get a collar for me next time’.”

Jimmy K raised an eyebrow and said, “Oh, that would make things interesting.”

“Certainly,” said Catalina. “I have my work cut out for me.”

“You can handle it,” said Jimmy K. “You’re a very capable woman.”

“Jimmy K, if you keep flirting with me all the time, you’re going to turn Jungkook into a jealous mess,” said Catalina. Jimmy K chuckled.

“I can’t help it,” he said. “I just have a flirty personality I guess. But I will stop if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“I just find it flattering,” said Catalina. “You’d have to ask Jungkook about it.”

“I saw you interrogating Hoseok’s sister at dinner,” he said, changing the subject abruptly. “I’m assuming you were trying to get some information on that suspicious bugger.”

“Yeah, ‘trying’ being the key word there,” Catalina said with a sigh. Jimmy K lifted his arm to spin her, then led her into a gliding sidestep and turn. “She barely knew more than we do. The most useful thing she told me was that the experience was supposedly very difficult for him and its painful for him to talk about.”

“Well, he could have just said that,” said Jimmy K. “Here I was thinking he was some kind of spy or he had some kind of murderous backstory.”

“Yeah, same here,” said Catalina. “It still doesn’t answer any questions, but at least it takes a little bit of suspicion off of him.”

“Well, if he ever goes off the rails and takes a nasty turn on you all, just give me a call,” said Jimmy K.

“What, are you some kind of vampire slayer?” asked Catalina, letting him drop her into a dip. “Why do you know so much about vampires and their history and stuff?”

Jimmy K winked and said, “That’s for me to know, darling, and you to find out.”

Catalina smirked and rolled her eyes.

“Ah, the mysterious, ruggedly handsome Jimmy K,” Catalina said, pretending to swoon.

“That’s right,” Jimmy K said with a smirk.

As the song ended, Catalina and Jimmy K parted ways. Catalina joined Jungkook at the lounge, sitting on the armrest of his chair. She draped her arm over his shoulder and gazed down at him. He was listening to Namjoon and Dr. Carlisle talk, but looked up at Catalina when she sat.

“What are you guys talking about?” she asked. Jungkook just smiled up at her and shrugged.

“I don’t really know,” he said. “Something scientific. How was your dance?”

“Heh, let me tell you, Jimmy K is a very mysterious individual,” she said, then leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I’ll tell you what he said later.”

“Please Yoongi-hyung! Do it for me!” Taehyung’s voice caught their attention across the ballroom. He was sitting on the piano bench beside Yoongi, begging him with big eyes and interlocked fingers. Yoongi seemed to let out a deep sigh, as his shoulders continued to sink for several seconds. That seemed to satisfy Taehyung, whose face lit up. He leapt from the bench and went to the wall where he adjusted the lighting to be a bit dimmer. Jimin watched all of this from the center of the dance floor as everyone else cleared away, retreating to the lounge.

Catalina’s eyebrows rose as Taehyung laid across the top of the grand piano. Yoongi began playing and Catalina recognized the tune immediately. To her surprise, Taehyung’s singing voice somehow fit the song beautifully, serenading an overly dramatic version of “A Thousand Miles”. Jimin doubled over laughing as Taehyung serenaded him, sliding off the piano and miming holding a microphone as he approached. Taehyung grabbed Jimin’s hands and led him into a dance as best he could with Jimin laughing so hard, face beet red. Taehyung’s smooth voice led the dramatic, slightly silly performance through the rest of the song. Once it ended, everyone stood up and applauded, Taehyung taking his bows. Jimin stood beside him, covering his face and still giggling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dr. Carlisle left, along with Jin, Jimmy K, and Hoseok’s sister and mother. Catalina didn’t let them leave without trying to return the necklace, but she told her to hold onto it until next time. After thanking her profusely and watching them all out the door, the group went to one of the bigger lounges. Taehyung served coffee and tea and Hoseok and Namjoon brought in gifts – two thick envelopes decorated with bows.

“You guys didn’t have to get anything!” Jimin exclaimed.

“It’s nothing big,” said Namjoon. “Just tokens really. We haven’t had many friends outside of this house in a long time.”

“But we don’t have anything for you guys,” said Jungkook.

“You guys are broke college students!” Hoseok said. “Save your money!”

They laughed and finally let Namjoon hand a big envelope to Catalina.

“This is kind of from all of us,” he said. “It’s for you and Jungkook.”

Catalina opened the envelope and pulled out several things. A packet of paper depicted pictures of a beautiful forest in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, with waterfalls and trails. It advertised a beautiful cabin, rustic and modern. After reading the front page, she realized what it was.

“Reservations?” she said. “What is this?”

“Look what else is in there,” said Namjoon.

There were two other slips of paper behind the packet. Round trip plane tickets. To Detroit, Michigan. For the week of Christmas. Catalina’s jaw dropped. Jungkook took the packet from her and flipped through it with wide eyes.

“Namjoon, this is too much,” Catalina said.

“Well, it’s from all of us,” said Hoseok. “But it was mostly his idea.”

“The reservation is for the week after Christmas,” said Jungkook.

“So you can spend the first week with your mom,” said Namjoon.

“Oooh! That’s why you asked me if I was spending the holiday with my family,” Jungkook exclaimed.

“You’re not?” Catalina asked. Jungkook shook his head.

“I mean, my brother is coming home and we’re having dinner with my parents a few days before Christmas,” he said. “Which you’re invited to, if you want. I know we’ve only been dating for a short time but…”

“I’d love to go,” she said. “We’ve known each other for a while now and I’ve only seen your parents in passing. I haven’t even met your brother at all.”

“And then it looks like the day after our dinner, we would leave for this,” said Jungkook.

“Namjoon, all of you, thank you so much,” said Catalina. “This is so generous.”

“Yeah, this is really awesome,” said Jungkook. “Thank you.”

“It’s really no problem,” said Namjoon.

Taehyung then handed the other envelope to Jimin and said, “Open mine next, Jiminie.”

Jimin opened the envelope and gasped.

“It’s not until summer, and I understand if you don’t want to, because I know you’re wary around us, as you should be, but I’ve always wanted to try camping and I hear it’s really pretty there…”

“Taehyungie,” Jimin interrupted. His eyes were glittering with tears. “I would love to go with you. This looks beautiful.”

“Really?” Taehyung said. “You’re not afraid to travel with me?”

Jimin shook his head and stood up to hug Taehyung tight. “My lovely Taehyungie. I could never be afraid of you.”

When they broke apart, both of them wiping their eyes, Jimin sat back down and said, “Can’t say the same for the rest of you. Jungkook, Cat, I’m talking about you too.”

Everyone laughed and Jimin said, “Haha, yeah laugh it up. You guys are insane. Sneaking into a vampire den without telling anyone. The fact that you made it out alive is an honest to God miracle.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After cleaning up the party, Taehyung invited the three humans to stay the night if they wanted to, since it was already past midnight. Catalina and Jungkook explored a bit before choosing a guest room on the third floor, far away from everyone else. When Jimin asked them where their room was, Jungkook threw him an exaggerated wink and nothing else. Jimin had almost fallen over laughing.

Their room was big and dark. Thick blackout curtains covered the huge window against the right wall. The four-poster bed looked antique, with twisting posts and sheer curtains around it. The thick carpet was a relief under Catalina’s feet once she took off her heels.

“What did you and Jimmy K talk about?” Jungkook asked as he toed off his own shoes.

“Oh right. He asked about my conversation with Jiwoo,” said Catalina. “I told him what she said, and then Jimmy K insinuated that he may be some kind of vampire slayer.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, he said something like, ‘If Hoseok ever hurts anyone, just give me a call’,” said Catalina.

“That’s so mysterious,” said Jungkook. “He knew about Alexandria the Annihilator too, which means he’s more familiar with vampire history than any of us.”

“Exactly,” said Catalina.

“Hm… well, we don’t have to talk about Jimmy K anymore,” Jungkook said, sidling closer to Catalina. “Thinking about what you’re wearing under this has been keeping me distracted all night.”

~ ~ ~ ~

The next morning, Catalina woke up before him. She went to the big window and opened the curtains, letting the sunlight stream into the room. The golden rays fell across the bed, bathing Jungkook in the morning light. Catalina admired her work from where she was standing; hickeys decorated his neck, chest, and thighs, and lipstick still stained his skin. His hair was tousled and his face was peaceful. Gorgeous. He was absolutely beautiful. Catalina couldn’t believe how lucky she was.

He said he loves me, Catalina thought with a dopey smile on her face, recalling the way he mumbled it into her skin last night, half asleep. I love this boy. So much.

[enby-hawke]

For I Have Sinned-Chapter 7

Chapter 7- Renewal

Word Count: 14,555 (lol shoot me)

Tw: elf fetishization bordering on non-con but not a major theme, homophobia

Ships: Malcolm/Leandra,  Maurevar Carver/Mara Hartling

Follow on AO3

Carver never wanted to be a Templar, but his mother and father had the heir, the spare, and then some, so Carver was dedicated while he was still in the womb. They were proud of their Templar lineage but they didn’t know the sacrifices they forced Carver to make. Carver made them because it was his duty, and he did so with a smile. Even if he hardly saw his family outside of the many duties that filled his days.

 No, he found he didn’t have much in common with his parents, who were not even Templars, or his brothers. In all respects he carried their name, but they were just strangers to him, that tried to control his life, and used his good standing like a trophy in their collection.

 And there was a disquiet in him as he wielded power over mages. Chantry rhetoric claimed mages were not people. They were classified as living weapons, and yet they cried the same tears, bled the same blood, had the same fears, died just as easily. And he resented how many who he worked with used that power to harm. Carver didn’t know a better way than the Circle, but he often wondered if what they were doing was actually effective, as blasphemous as that statement was.

 He found few Templars that agreed with him and counted many mages as friends, even if there were rules that said otherwise.

 The fact was that Carver was given the keys to the prison and was free to leave his position at any time. But only through the Chantry could he get lyrium he needed, and he could only get lyrium if he remained a Templar. He thought of leaving, but his own leash held him place well enough.

 “I hate to bring this up,” Carver said hesitantly as they started pulling into the streets of the docks towards the Templar station where he’d need to park his car. “But you should clean up your face before we get back. We’ll be caught for sure.”

 Carver knew Malcolm better than the family that had given him up, knew him almost as well as he knew himself, even when Malcolm tried to keep secrets from him. And there was no denying that Leandra had changed Malcolm. Malcolm smirked often, but tonight on his face was a true smile, the usual frown lines and sarcasm had gone. He had been humming the songs that they had been singing all night, and had been serving as the radio for Carver as they drove through the streets of Kirkwall. There was no chip on his shoulder, no snarl to his words. Leandra had sanded down the edges until all Carver saw was a happy man in love.

 And Carver was scared for them.

 Malcolm laughed pulling down the mirrors as he inspected the red smears, wiping his face clean with his sleeve and a bit of magic when the lipstick remained stubborn. Malcolm seemed sorry to wipe off the evidence of the night.

 Carver reached into the middle compartment and tossed Malcolm some mints. “Your breath smells like alcohol. Take care of that.”

 Malcolm dutifully popped a handful of mints in his mouth, probably not enough to completely cover the smell but it would help.

 Carver knew mages were dangerous. He had lost a few templar brethren hunting down apostates, but among the heavier death toll, mages were always the higher casualty, not that his brethren saw it that way. Still, he thought long and hard, trying to find ways to prevent the same tragedies.

 “So we should get our story straight,” Carver said, as he pulled into his personal parking space which was marked and always clear for him. Carver could see Malcolm squirm in his peripherals, his lips getting tight as he sucked on his mints but he volunteered nothing. Carver turned off the car, stalling the engine so only ships at sea could be heard. He locked the door before Malcolm could get out and the way Malcolm glared made him look like a cornered wolf. “I know I initially tagged along because I wanted to keep that asshole in line, but I know you’re key to the investigation,” more squirming, some hunching. “Though I still need to interview the other mages at the party, I’ve been reading reports all night and no one seems to know more than you do.”

 “I don’t know what’s going on.” Malcolm’s voice was tense in the admission. He played dumb like he always did.

 Carver sighed. Obviously a lie, but calling him on it would only make him more evasive. He kept his eyes on the Templar station, an intimidating fortress that imposed the Docks, guarding a private train-line that went over the water and into the Circle.

 “So what do you know?”

 Malcolm went quiet. Carver glanced over, seeing a hundred thoughts scattering through his mind.

 “It was nothing I’ve ever seen before,” he finally said.

 “Nor I,” Carver said, worried about that admission.

 Malcolm’s hands twisted as he picked at his nails. “What’s going in your report?”

 Carver knew it was against the rules to tell anyone, let alone a mage under his care, what he told the Knight-Commander, but he could understand why Malcolm was scared. The Knight-Commander wasn’t the most tolerant of mages, and often criticized Carver’s approach in spite of the results Carver brought. “Only what’s necessary,” Carver hoped that would reassure him but his friend remained tense.

 More silence, an internal debate in Malcolm’s head as he decided what to tell.

 Carver waited in patience, his gaze expectant.

 “The Veil was sundered and torn, but not only that, corrupted,” Malcolm finally said. “I don’t know how but it seemed like the Fade was leaking into reality, like they were merging together.”

 That didn’t sound good. He wanted to know how Malcolm knew this but instead he asked, “What could cause that?”

 Malcolm avoided Carver’s gaze. “Something dark and ancient and powerful.”

 Carver cocked his head unsure of what that meant. “Like a Tevinter magister?”

 “Worse than that, dude.” Malcolm laughed uneasily. He actually looked scared. “I don’t think you can arrest this.”

 Carver considered what he meant and then it hit him. “Are you saying a demon did this?” Malcolm flinched, keeping silent but Carver knew he was on the right track. “What kind of demon?”

 “Terror,” Malcolm admitted. “And it’s big and hungry.”

 Carver then realized. “Did you fight it in the Viscount’s Palace?”

 Malcolm’s golden eyes blinked up in surprise and he chewed on his lip. “I did, but it’s strong.”

 Carver wondered how many battles he was fighting alone, and he knew Malcolm was too prideful to ask so he said, “It sounds like you could use help.”

 Malcolm sputtered as if embarrassed. “I don’t think you can help with this, dude.”

 If Carver had ego it might have been wounded, but he simply smiled. “It’s my duty as a Templar, and if this demon can sunder reality it is a danger that must be vanquished.”

 Malcolm looked uneasy, but he didn’t argue. “So, what’s going in your report?”

 Carver knew he shouldn’t but he said, “I think it important the Knight-Commander knows that a dangerous demon is hunting. We need to be prepared.”

 Malcolm turned to Carver, pleading. “Don’t say I jumped into the Fade.”

 “It’s an important detail,” Carver said, “and impressive as well. You could probably teach your own class with the types of spells you seem to always come up with.”

 Was this just because he didn’t want more responsibility? Malcolm’s eyes said otherwise. He recognized someone begging for his life. He had seen it too many times in the countless Harrowings he oversaw.

 “It really isn’t,” Malcolm insisted. “Just say we fought a terror demon that opened a rift into the Fade. That’s enough.”

 Carver was uncertain. He wasn’t comfortable with lying, but this seemed important to Malcolm. “And then we spent the night chasing it,” Carver finally agreed, seeing Malcolm’s shoulders finally relax. Still, Carver knew there was a huge piece missing from the puzzle, and it somehow had to do with Malcolm, but he knew Malcolm, and he could see him closing himself off like a vault. He had hoped the alcohol might be enough to loosen that tongue, but Malcolm was the most stubborn man he knew. He prayed it wouldn’t lead to casualties. “You’ll tell me what I need to know before it hurts anyone else, right?”

 “Of course. Trust me,” Malcolm nodded.

 “I do,” Carver said with a grimace. “I just wished you trusted me.”

 Malcolm looked hurt by the accusation. “Of course I trust you.”

 “But you won’t tell me what I need to know,” Carver said bitterly. He didn’t like how many questions he was still left with.

 “I did tell you what you need to know,” Malcolm’s voice was defensive. “The demon will die, soon, and everything will go back to normal.”

 Carver doubted that with the evidence he had seen that night, but he knew that would only lead to an argument. So, instead he placed a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “You don’t have to fight your battles, alone.”

 Malcolm said nothing to this, but he made a tight nod.

 Carver sighed finally unlocking the door and getting out of the car.

 Carver left his car at Templar station and they boarded the train, watching the water over the ocean in companionable silence as the tower of the Circle approached. Dawn was just starting to rise over the ocean cut off by the ugly tower that jutted into the sky with its red Circle flags waving in the ocean wind as bronze slave statues curled into themselves against the ocean spray, weeping.

 Carver felt sorry that the night was over. He could already see that Malcolm was getting antsy approaching the Circle, his fingers drumming on his legs in a steady beat. He seemed wound up with energy still from the night, which he guessed was good since he probably only got a few minutes of sleep.

 Soon they walked off the train and into the courtyard which was still empty, but it would be filled with Templars doing drills. Dawn had broken and so First Bell wouldn’t be too far. Before Malcolm walked back to his room Carver stopped him by a hand on the shoulder. “Remember your promise to Leandra. No lip, and work on your grades.”

 “Yeah, yeah,” Malcolm rolled his neck, cracking it nonchalantly. He said it like he was brushing it off, but Carver couldn’t help but notice how alert he was, his posture straighter with a confidence that carried him with every step. As Malcolm walked away, Carver thought this might be the first time Malcolm actually might consider taking something seriously, and he couldn’t help but think he’d have to find more ways to thank Leandra, if for no other reason to bump into that rather whimsical cat-eyed woman who had mischief in her smile.

 As Carver made his way down the Templar quarters he found his mind wandering back to Mara. He had met many beautiful women, but Mara had a spunk to her that set her apart and made her shine. He was rather impressed that she stood up to her own man for Malcolm and her loyalty to her lady seemed to go beyond just duty. Admiration. That’s what he told himself was stirring inside him. Any other considerations he had long since buried, but like a stubborn weed, irresponsible thoughts were unearthing.

 Carver knew those were thoughts that would go nowhere. He was Knight-Captain, second only to the Knight-Commander. He had a responsibility to his wards and his comrades to be sharp and undistracted and while Templars were not forbidden to marry very few found the opportunity nor the time. Carver himself barely had time in the day to eat so to fully commit to anything like a romance seemed out of the question. Plus, it was clear she already had a man. Still, he hoped Mara would find someone more worthy of her wild adventurous spirit. And the way she inspected him with that scrutinizing stare as he performed for her left a shiver in his spine. He remembered the sassy way she called him “Officer” that stirred something primal in him and he was left unbalanced when she grabbed his arm.

 He shouldn’t have allowed the picture. It could ruin everything, but Mara smelled so good he was left dizzy and his spine turned to jelly. And when Gamlen yanked her back from him it took everything not to punch him and ruin the night Malcolm worked so hard for.

 It was not his place. Carver was only there to protect Malcolm, nothing else, and he felt a little ashamed that he was even thinking such things. He needed to focus, make sure that Malcolm doesn’t ruin what little standing he has left by taking reckless chances. But he couldn’t help but wish the song he sang Mara was a little longer and that Gamlen had stayed on that curb so he might find an excuse to talk to her again.

 The door  to the   Knight-Commander’s office was intimidating, high reinforced steel bars with a heavy plaque of the red Chantry sun, as if they needed another reminder who ruled over them.  Carver went to knock on the door to find that it was slightly ajar, muffled voices coming through the door.

 “Knight-Commander, we need to consider that this might have been an attack on the Amell’s or the De Lancets. We need to reinforce security, pull from the Guard if necessary to ensure the nobility’s safety.”

 Carver gritted his teeth. It was clearly Meredith’s voice coming from the door. Normally he would commend Meredith for her proactive thinking. She was remarkably fast at getting the men to secure the ballroom, but she made it clear to Carver that she was gunning for his job and he was sure this was just going to be another attempt to undermine his command.

 Carver knocked twice before letting himself in, cutting off the Knight-Commander’s reply. Both the Knight-Commander and Meredith’s head flung in Carver’s direction. Knight-Commander Guylian stayed behind his desk, an antique oak with heavy legs, his pale skin popped against the dark leather. He was an older man with a prominent nose, lips so thin they were barely visible and dull grey eyes. He looked fully rested compared to Meredith whose bags from the all-nighter she pulled darkened her creamy skin.

 “Good, I’ve been expecting your report,” the Knight-Commander nodded.

 “Finally,” Meredith scowled as the Knight-Commander motioned for Carver to come in, but she kept her usual barbs to herself for now.

 Carver glanced at the clock on the wall. It wasn’t even 6am. He was not late. Still, he couldn’t help the anxiety creeping up his neck as his Commander stared him down, waiting for him to spin his tale. Carver had become good at lying though, years of meditation and duty hardening him into a beacon of calm.

 “Before I go into my report I want to recommend an official reprimand be marked on the Knight-Lieutenant's record.”

   Meredith went red, eyes widening in outrage. “What for!?”

 Carver felt himself mold into the role of Knight-Captain and addressed her while keeping his eyes on the Knight-Commander. “Instead of assessing the area for culprits she assaulted Taylor Filene. Such behavior will sow disorder and dissent in the ranks.”

 “But Taylor Filene might be a culprit,” Meredith barked back.

 “Regardless,” Carver continued. “There are procedures if you have suspicions. Threatening your wards in plain sight of the nobility is not.”

 The Knight-Commander waited patiently studying both templars under the comfort of his cushioned chair. “This is true. The public must not see such things, Knight-Lieutenant. Our public image must be maintained.”

 That was not Carver’s point, but he knew that arguing that it should not be allowed at all would get him nowhere. The Knight-Commander could be a harsh man, himself, and Carver needed to toe the line.

 The Knight-Commander tapped his desk with his finger. “But considering the stress of last night I believe an unofficial reprimand will do just fine. Just see that it does not happen again.”

 Meredith nodded, suppressing a triumphant smile. “It won’t, Knight-Commander.”

 The Knight-Commander leaned back inspecting Carver again. “Now, where did you disappear to last night?”

 “I’ve made an unexpected discovery in Malcolm Hawke’s testimony. He was able to identify that it was a terror demon that sundered the veil at the party and he is assisting me as I hunt it down. The hunt took me all over Kirkwall.”

 “You had an unsanctioned mage assist you in an investigation?” Meredith sneered, echoing the concern on the Knight-Commander’s face. “Without backup?”

 “The Fade interference messed with our electronics. There wasn’t time,” Carver lied quickly, “But I witnessed myself as he closed the rift in the Fade with his magic and calmed the spirits enough to go back, a feat no mage in this Circle I know to be capable of. Without his help, we might have had a bloodbath on our hands. Unsanctioned he may be, but his help may prove invaluable.”

 “That oaf? He’ll make a mockery of this investigation,” Meredith  sneered.

 Carver expected that from Meredith but still he couldn’t help but ask a question he knew the answer to from his reports, “Knight-Lieutenant, what is the status of the Veil?”

 Meredith’s lips thinned into a red line. “It appears to be stronger than before.”

 Carver kept the grin off his face. “So should I issue you a ‘thank you’ to Malcolm myself or will you?”  

 The Knight-Commander stared at Carver and he wondered if the uneasiness on his face was suspicion or something else. “Demons do not usually affect the world without outside help. We should not discount Meredith’s theory that this could have been an orchestrated attack on the Amells or De Lancets.”

 Carver grimaced. He wasn’t sure if Meredith was right, but he knew from the smirk on Meredith’s face that she would use this more to swing her iron fist.

 Then the Knight-Commander asked, “How exactly did Malcolm heal the Veil? I thought using magic only weakened it.”

 Carver knew he had to omit a few details but he wanted to keep as close to the truth as possible. Easier to keep track of the lies that way. “He claimed it to be an aura he developed to calm spirits,” he could tell from the look on their faces that they had questions about that and so did he, but instead he distracted them with something else, “I believe he has the potential to be a Spirit Healer. From my observations he seems to be sensitive to their presence.”

 Meredith and the Knight-Commander shared a look. Spirit Healers made contracts with beneficial spirits to draw upon great healing magic, the kind that could bring men back from the brink of death. They were incredibly rare and watched ever closely by the templars because of how similarly they functioned to blood mages, and how easily they fell to temptation, but because of their beneficial nature they were still highly sought and prized by the Circle. He could see the arguments warring both on Meredith and the Knight-Commander’s faces.

 The Knight-Commander seemed conflicted. “It would be a boon for the Circle, but what makes you think the elf would even do it? He seems insistent to sleeping his potential away.”

 Carver put on his most convincing smile. “Give Malcolm a chance. He’s already proved last night he is capable of much more than he’s letting on.”

 Meredith slammed her hand on the table startling both the men. “Absolutely not,” she snarled. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

 The Knight-Commander’s eyebrow twitched and Meredith reddened, retracting her hand.

 “Is that not for me to decide, Knight-Lieutenant?”

 “Yes, ser,” she simply responded, her eyes on his desk.

 The Knight-Commander leaned forward, resting his fingers on his chin as he thought. “I have an opportunity in mind, but I have reservations about his abilities but since Malcolm managed to not offend anyone at the party…” His calculating gaze locked on Carver as he made his decision. “The Amells and De Lancets will be here for their interviews as well as their Cleansing. If Malcolm can perform without offending them, I may consider speaking with the First Enchanter to rework his curriculum.”

 Carver nodded. “I’ll make sure he takes this opportunity seriously.”

   The Knight-Commander’s blue eyes were like a faded cloudy day. “See that he does. The Amells are high patrons of the Circle and if they are not satisfied with his performance, neither will I.” It sounded like the threat it was.

 Carver nodded, gritting his teeth, a sinking feeling in his gut about how far Malcolm’s place was falling in the Circle. He needed to do everything in his power to make sure he didn’t fall further. Still, Malcolm was one of his best friends and he knew him well enough to know that he would not be thanked for this. But, dangling Leandra seemed to work before. Surely, it would work again.

 Mara’s kitchen was a small but cutely decorated space, with duckling wallpaper and colorful appliances and cartoony knickknacks, some that Leandra had gifted over the years. On the fridge was a homemade frame of a picture of a fishing trip with the family when Mara’s parents and grandma were still alive. Leandra, Gamlen and Mara’s grandfather were also in the picture. He was a pale red-headed elf with green eyes and mischief in his smile. The rest of the family shared Mara’s chestnut hair and her dark unhooded cat eyes. Mara and he were both holding large rainbow trouts, Mara’s slightly bigger and she was rubbing it in Leandra’s face since she had only managed to catch a small minnow which she still showed proudly to the camera.

 Everyone in the family was laughing, their faces in half-blurs as the Hartlings were never ones to sit still. Only Gamlen remained looking out of place as he glowered at the camera, hot and uncomfortable and always letting everyone know about it. Still, that day was perfect, and the memory of it kept Mara going on her darkest days.

 Leandra stared at her phone, sipping at her coffee, her belly full of fried rice, bacon and eggs, helping to stave off an oncoming headache. She had spent many nights sitting at this counter, staying up gossiping with Mara and tonight was no different. Though the pain of exhaustion made her question if anything about the night was real, Mara was there to confirm every detail. And there was more evidence, in her picture, Malcolm was pressing against her cheek, looking as dazzling as in her dreams except now she had the memory of his clover musk that she sorely missed. She didn’t recognize the smile on her face, or how Mara let her hair get so messy, and now that she was slowly sobering up, she realized she was dumbstruck by her own actions.

 She realized with profoundness, that she would repeat everything exactly the same. She had never felt so brave except at Malcolm’s side and now that he was gone the whimsy of the night was over. The reality of her   fiancé   and her parents were coming back to her. She’d need to face them, soon.

 “He really fills out that suit, doesn’t he?” Mara hummed, placing her chin on Leandra’s bare shoulder.

 Leandra hummed in agreement, admiring how Malcolm’s suit cut a striking silhouette, until she registered what Mara said and smacked her playfully on the arm. “Eyes to yourself, lady, he’s mine.”

 “Oh, please, your man’s too skinny,” Mara waggled her eyebrows. “I was talking about Ser Herculean Statue.”  

 “Mara,” Leandra guffawed, scandalized. “What if Gamlen heard?”

 Mara pulled away, rolling her eyes as she departed for the sink in a hasty retreat. “I’m just looking. It’s not like I don’t catch Gamlen’s eyes wandering. Neither of us are blind, y’know.”

 Mara seemed tense at the mention of Gamlen, and she immediately began scouring the pots to put in the dishwasher. Leandra bit her lip. She knew that they spent at least fifteen minutes talking in Mara’s room before Gamlen decided to take a nap and Leandra was unsure if Gamlen would bother to show up for the Cleansing. Mara and Gamlen were still together, but for the first time Leandra was unsure about their future and she could see how uneasy this was making Mara.

   Mara washed off her cat eye makeup making her eyes look more almond shaped and they were red from tiredness, but Leandra looked at the irritated rims of her eyes and knew she had been rubbing them. Her lips were paler and a more natural pink and her hair was still damp from the shower she had. She looked much more comfortable in her baggy t-shirt that looked like it belonged to Gamlen at one point and plain plaid sweatpants.

 “How are things with Gamlen?” Leandra asked hesitantly.

 Mara’s shoulders tensed before she opened up the dishwasher and deposited the pan with some force. “Oh, it’s peachy.”

 Leandra abandoned her place at the counter to saddle up beside Mara to help her wash. She picked up a stray plate and started rinsing the grease from it.

 “Your mother will kill me if you ruin your manicure doing servant work,” Mara took the plate away from her to take over but Leandra just picked up another.

 “Who cares about my mother? We’re talking about you right now,” Leandra sniffed as she scrubbed off some stubborn onion that was sticking to the plate. Leandra’s polished white-tipped pointed nails were soon covered in bacon grease. Leandra gritted her teeth. “You know he’s my brother, but you can always be honest with me.” Leandra met Mara’s uncertain gaze as she paused to bite her lip. “About anything.”

 Mara took the plate from Leandra, placing it in the dishwasher. She was silent, but Leandra could tell there was something Mara was keeping from her. “Promise not to tell, Gamlen?”

 “I won’t say a word,” Leandra nodded, abandoning the chores to give Mara her full attention.

 Mara tucked a wet strand behind her ear as she leaned her back against the sink. “I’ve been with Gamlen for as long as I can remember. I know I love him but…”

 “But…?” Leandra echoed as Mara trailed off.

 Mara kept her eyes to the ground. “Seeing the way you are with Malcolm…maybe I’m a little jealous.”

 Leandra dropped her mouth. Mara? Jealous of her and Malcolm? She was blushing at the idea considering the years she spent in envy in the reverse position.

 “I just met Malcolm last night,” Leandra blubbered. “You and Gamlen have had a solid relationship for years. Malcolm and I are too new to even label our relationship. And the fact that I’m about to be married in two months, you have nothing to be envious over.”

 Mara looked at Leandra biting her cheek. “See that’s the thing. Malcolm looks at you like he’s seen the sunrise for the first time. I’ve never seen a man look so devoted,” Mara looked sad, meeting her gaze hesitantly. “And you have never looked so happy beside him. I think you found something real. And I want that…”

 Leandra felt a rush of warmth at the thought, before her rational mind took over and started tearing the fantasy apart. This was too new for her to even name what she was feeling for him. She was still engaged. Very, very engaged, and though she was angry at her parents, she wasn’t so angry that she would throw her whole future away over one wonderful night, no matter how perfect everything felt. Still, as she looked at her friend’s uncertainty she knew she had to reach out for her hand and ask, “You don’t think you have something real with Gamlen?”

 Mara froze, her eyes dropping again. “I...don’t know.” Then she forced a grin, “He gives me a      real    headache.”

 Leandra laughed in spite of herself, but she knew Mara was just joking to avoid talking too seriously. “I won’t lie and say I don’t want you and Gamlen to work, but if you’re unhappy-”

 “I’m not,” Mara said a little too quickly and returned to cleaning the dishes. “I’m probably just still mad about last night. Just ignore me.”

 Leandra could sense the broiling emotions under Mara, but she nudged Mara’s shoulder with her own before returning to the dishes. “You’re hard to ignore, Mara.”

 A pleased smile pulled on Mara’s lips, her cheeks blushing just a shade pinker.

 Suddenly Leandra’s phone rang from her purse, and Leandra wiped her hands on the hand towel and went to retrieve it. She recognized from the chiming wedding bells that it was Guillaume. Sure enough his name with the screen photo showing Leandra and him on one of their dates to their favorite restaurant at la Rose’ de Safran, a ritzy Orlesian place where their portions were smaller than their wine glasses. She couldn’t help but take a moment to compare how fake her smile seemed as she posed with him keeping a professional distance apart even as they held hands.

 She let only one more annoying bell ring before she answered the phone, her voice cloaked with peppy energy even though she felt so exhausted she was sure she’d fall asleep on the kitchen counter. “Guillaume, what a surprise. Why are you calling so early?”

 Guillaume’s slightly Orlesian accent filtered through the speakers, grating her nerves with anxiety even though his voice was calm and soothing. “I heard you had a fight with your parents last night and I wanted to help if I could.”  

 She was touched and suddenly flooded with guilt. Guillaume was still her friend and a true one and she was deceiving him. “I’m not sure how you could help, but thank you for the thought,” she almost mumbled the words as she struggled to keep herself calm and breathing even.

 “I thought I’d offer you a ride to the Cleansing if you would like, to give you more space between your parents. We can get a cup of coffee and talk.”

 It was just like him, incredibly thoughtful, and the confusion about what the right thing to do was made her dizzy and hesitant. Usually talking with Guillaume would unburden her, but she immediately thought of Malcolm and the jealous look in his eye and how badly she just wanted to belong to only him. How she wanted to come clean and tell Guillaume the truth right there. Would he judge her? He never had before?

 But she wouldn’t. She still didn’t even know what was happening to her heart, and all these urges to make irrational decisions scared her.

 She took in a shallow breath. “You’re right that I’d rather not face my parents,” she admitted, not wanting to say yes, but the thought of a car ride lecture all the way to the Circle was less preferable.

 She could hear the smile in his voice. “Merveilleux, I’ll be at your house in less than ten minutes.”

 “Actually come to Mara’s.”

 Leandra tried to get Gamlen out of Mara’s bed plush polkadot duvet but he was snoring so forcefully he was ruffling his bangs. After shaking him firmly once he told her to ‘bugger off’ and she decided she wasn’t going to do what she normally did and fuss over him and drag him to his duties. He was a full grown man. If he wanted to let his aura fester that was his problem.  

 She texted her family’s group chat to not send the car to Mara’s because Guillaume was picking her up and though she expected an argument over that she didn’t get one. Just a firm reminder to not be late. She tried to distract herself with social media, but soon enough all the congratulation messages and worried ‘are you ok?’ messages about her betrothal ball found her sorely missing Malcolm.

 She wished she could post that picture, let everyone know of the wonderful man she found and share her happiness, but she would hurt Guillaume deeply and knew she would get no congratulations. So she traced Malcolm’s lips with her thumb, wishing things were simpler so she could just enjoy this feeling.

 Soon Guillaume’s town car pulled into Mara’s driveway and Guillaume stepped out.

 Leandra stiffened, brushing herself off as she approached him, smiling in greeting. She couldn’t miss the way his eyes raked her from head to toe taking in her look. She told herself she should appreciate it. Mara had worked hard helping her pluck, smooth out her hair, paint on her face and vet her outfit. Still, she wished that Mara had clothes that didn’t always cling so close or reveal so much. It was almost impossible to find something appropriate to meet her future in-laws in.

 “Are those Mara’s?” His tone was appreciative.

 She tucked hair behind her ear as she shyly hid her figure behind her purse. Normally Leandra’s day wear consisted of airy dresses that were modest but fashionable, but today she had on a loose black knit sweater that hung off her shoulders and a bold peacock patterned pencil skirt that hugged every curve. She was still wearing her red heels from last night since her feet were too small for Mara’s shoes. “It looks awkward on me, right?”

 “Not at all,” his smile gleaned as he stared appreciatively at her bare shoulders. “I’d say it’s a fetching look.”

 No blush came to Leandra’s cheeks but instead she made a strangled sound in her throat.

 Guillaume opened the door for her, chuckling. “I’d say I left you speechless, my lady.”

 Leandra chuckled nervously as she ducked into the car.

 He soon joined her on the other side, the cabin cozier than she wished it. He nestled in close and it took all of Leandra’s willpower not to shy away from him as he took her hand. His hand felt wrong, too large, too imposing. It didn’t feel at all like comfort though she wondered if it ever did. His amber eyes burrowed into her in questioning. “So what happened with your parents?”

 She didn’t feel at all like sharing but she did because she thought she should. “They tried to fire Mara.”

 Guillaume made a dramatic gasp into his spare hand. “No, they can’t.”

 “I said they tried. I rehired her,” Leandra found herself looking at the window rather than at Guillaume, if only so she would stop catching him staring at her shoulders.

 “That was quick thinking, ma chérie,” Guillaume squeezed her hand. “Do you need any financial assistance in the matter? I would be happy to lend any assets.”

 Leandra felt herself get hot and quickly said, “No, no, that’s not necessary,” she shook her head so violently her ponytail swayed from side to side. “I’ll have to cut back on a few expenses but Mara is more important than frivolous things like spa days.”

 “Maker,” Guillaume shook his head. “You are a stronger woman than me. I need my spa days.” Guillaume laughed at his own joke and Leandra joined in politely until his laugh trailed off and was replaced with a silent tension. “Ma chérie, I have a confession to make,” his voice was as tense as his shoulders.

 Leandra turned to face Guillaume, her gut plummeting. “Yes?”

 “You know my mother is a very religious woman,” Guillaume looked at Leandra, and then tucked a hair back in place fondly. Leandra withheld a shudder. “The haunting has spooked her. She thinks it’s a curse on your family and she wants to call off the wedding.”

 Leandra blinked, her heart fluttering and she almost caught herself smiling but she knew from Guillaume’s face that this was a huge source of anxiety for him and she felt herself being pulled by two ropes. She knew she should say something and he was expecting her to, but she was trying not to thank the Maker out loud so she did so in her head. She schooled her face into a frown, and said, “How terrible,” as convincingly as possible.

 It worked because Guillaume brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “We have to convince her not to.”

 This time she did shudder. She knew she should agree and try to use this car ride to strategize but Leandra felt her shoulders dropping. “Do you really want to?” she actually asked. She clapped her hand over her mouth as soon as the question escaped. She could see the hurt written on Guillaume’s face and he dropped her hand.

 “Of course I do! Do you?”

 “I…”Leandra tried to make her face unreadable but her voice was caught in her throat and she hesitated and this time he noticed.

 Guillaume immediately straightened his shoulders like a soldier. “What did I do wrong?”

 “Nothing!” Leandra blurted. “Guillaume, you’re wonderful, it’s just…” she gulped, trying to find the words and still feeling the effects of the residual alcohol in her system she found herself being a little more honest than she usually dared. “We were promised as kids. Do you not ever wonder if there is someone else out there? Someone perfect for you?”

 Guillaume’s shoulders dropped, looking defeated, and his eyes actually watered before he turned away. “I thought you were perfect for me.” Then his jaw clenched, his mustache twitching. “Did you find your perfect someone? Is that what you’re telling me?”

 Leandra didn’t realize she was such an open book, and she had forgotten how well Guillaume could read her. “No,” she shook her head and clasped both his hands like she used to try to reassure him even though her words were dripping with lies. “It’s nothing like that, just pre-wedding jitters.”

 “Because I’ll back off,” he continued looking hard at her, inspecting every minute reaction. “Just be honest with me, Leandra.”

 Her heart was suddenly in her throat as she tried not to squeak. She wanted to. She wanted to tell him everything, but there was a hardness in his gaze that made her quiver. Was she really going to ruin her future her parents prepared for her over a man she had only met last night?

 She opened her mouth and said, “Let’s find a way to convince your mother not to call off the wedding. I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

 She had no idea if she made the right decision, but the way Guillaume’s shoulders relaxed made her breathe easier. Did he notice that she did not say no? He had already seen through her the first time. She wasn’t sure how convincing she was being.

 Guillaume patted her hand fondly and said, “That’s why we’re getting coffee. It’s always good to start a negotiation with a bribe.”

 Leandra smiled, feeling it unnatural on her face. She had no idea how to act around Guillaume now that he was suspicious and she was trying her best not to give anything else away. She let him hold his hand as he pitched his ideas of what they would say and she nodded along as she panicked. Little did she know the Maker had twisted fate to test her a little more that day.

 Malcolm had a skip to his step as he walked to breakfast, whistling so merrily that the sound echoed through the stone in an unnatural cheer. Nothing could darken his mood; no ugly sneer from a templar, nor the bars on the windows or the winter chill in the air. His backpack was slung over his  shoulder, actually   filled with what he needed for his  day's   study, though his textbooks were vandalized with doodles and blasphemy.

 He was still flooded with energy from Leandra’s kisses and the wheels in his head were working in overdrive to figure out a way to escape again. Could he manage it, tonight? Two breakouts in a row would be risky. He was so in his head, planning and scheduling details he didn’t notice that people were pointing and gossiping about him as he waited in line for breakfast. He found Taylor and Charlie in the usual spot on the corner table where they were looking at him in confusion and worry.

 “Are you alright?” Taylor’s eyebrows knitted together as she picked at her bowl of porridge mostly untouched.

 Instead of Malcolm’s usual brush-off he just pulled his thick eyebrows together in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 Charlie and Taylor shared a look before Taylor said, “You disappeared last night after the haunting. I feared the worst.”

 Malcolm shrugged. “Carver brought me along on an investigation. Nothing serious.” He wanted to tell them the truth about Leandra but Charlie was probably the biggest gossip in all the Circle. If Charlie even got a whiff that Malcolm was seeing someone, everyone would know by lunch.

 Charlie broke out in an excited grin. “Nothing serious? Are you kidding? Rumors are you saved everyone last night and now the Knight-Captain is recruiting you personally to help?”

 Malcolm tried to remain nonchalant but he couldn’t help the puff in his chest. He really felt like things were turning around. “Well, when you put it like that, I guess I’m kind of a big deal now.”

 Taylor shook her head, though even she was grinning. “Don’t let that head get too inflated with hot air. If it wasn’t for Carver you’d have gone home with the rest of us.”

 Malcolm harrumphed. That was true but she didn’t need to say it. Malcolm scooped up his porridge, the sludge looking cold and unappetizing, but with a grin, he weaved a subtle spell in his mind and scooped the porridge into his mouth. Instead of a bland mush he felt a bursting array of sweet, tart strawberries and cream and he groaned in ecstasy as his tongue remembered the feel of Leandra’s kisses caressing him. He immediately licked the spoon clean and scooped up another generous helping, groaning again. The texture was off, lumpy and slimy, but that was something easily ignored.

 Taylor and Charlie stared in confusion. “The food here is not that good.”

 Malcolm grinned offering his hand to Taylor. “You got to try this new spell I made. Take my hand.”

 Taylor stared skeptically at the hand, being the butt of too many pranks to trust it. “I don’t think so,” she wrinkled her nose.

 Malcolm rolled his eyes. He could have cast the spell directly on her but if he was caught casting spells outside of class that would be more trouble. So he moved his hand to Charlie. “Take my hand, dude.”

 Charlie grabbed it without hesitating. “Sure.”

 Malcolm changed the spell slightly in his mind channeling it into his friend. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “Now, try a bite.”

 Charlie hesitantly took a bite of his porridge before his eyes bugged out in amazement. Then immediately one handed he started gobbling up his food so fast he was getting it on his face. He was hardly breathing as he inhaled bite after bite.

 Malcolm couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s what I had for dinner last night.”

 “How is it still steamy?” Charlie’s full mouth was dripping with mush.

 Taylor leaned forward, suddenly keen and interested. “Wait, how did you do that?”

 Malcolm tried to hide the pride in his voice but he had to thank Scholar for the idea and all that talk about what taste is. This new deal with him had really gotten Malcolm’s wheels turning. “It’s a simple illusion spell, actually. Even Charlie can manage it.”

 Taylor cocked her head as she started putting it together. “Illusion? You mean you’re substituting visual stimuli for gustatory?”

 Malcolm blinked in confusion. “If that means I tweaked the illusion spell to focus on my memories of good food then yes.”

 Taylor muttered, doing some calculations under her breath. “So if any memory will work then…” She dipped her mostly untouched porridge and took a bite, her violet eyes watering. “I haven’t tasted Mamae’s matzah since I was a girl.” She blinked back the tears before they could fall and she stared at Malcolm with a newfound respect. “Malcolm, this is absolutely brilliant.”

 “Thank you, I feel brilliant,” Malcolm grinned. “Think Enchanter Jakoby will take the spell as extra credit?”

 “I don’t see why not?” Taylor went to take another bite before she stopped blinking back at Malcolm. “Why are you asking about extra credit?”

 Malcolm suddenly felt embarrassed, like he was caught doing something weird. “Dunno…just thought it would be a good idea.”

 Taylor beamed at him with a knowing smile. “I think Enchanter Jakoby would be proud, too.”

 If Malcolm’s skin could go red, it would. “That’s not what it’s about,” he muttered, scooping a lobster infused porridge into his mouth with his free hand to avoid talking more.

 “You said I can manage it?” Charlie asked, still gripping Malcolm’s hand. He looked at the last bite of his bowl like he was sorry that he had eaten it so fast. “I can barely light a candle without sweating. How am I supposed to do something so complicated?”

 Malcolm squeezed, feeling odd that he was holding a man’s hand, or anyone’s hand other than Leandra’s, but the gesture didn’t feel out of place. “It’s not complicated. You just need to practice. I’ll help.”

 Charlie sniffed, rubbing off some of the porridge on his face with a napkin. “Thanks. It’d be nice to eat some nice food before I get tranquilized and can’t appreciate it anymore.”

 The table went silent at the thought as Charlie scooped up the last bite. Malcolm and Taylor both looked at each other in worried silence as Charlie savored it. Finally Taylor leaned in and placed her hand over Charlie’s fist. “You’re not getting tranquilized.”

 “You don’t have to humor me,” Charlie said stiffly. “I overheard the templars talking. There’s no way I’ll survive the Harrowing.”

 “They’re just bastards. You can,” Malcolm said earnestly, though his voice sounded frail in his anger. Carver had managed to put off Charlie’s Harrowing for as long as possible while Malcolm and Taylor tutored Charlie in their spare time and his magic had improved steadily, but he was not built for fighting. Now his Harrowing was any day, and they waited each night wondering if today was the last.

 “Passing the Harrowing is all about believing in your own ability,” Malcolm said. “You can’t let these doubts shake you.”

 “They’re not doubts, dude, they’re facts,” Charlie’s voice was not laced by melancholy but filled with pragmatism, like he had already accepted his fate and that twisted Malcolm’s gut.

 It was times like these when Malcolm wanted to burn everything to the ground.

 “I knew you two were fairies,” a sneering voice said behind them. Malcolm and Charlie dropped hands blushing to find that Matthew, the Templar, had approached their table and from the look in his eyes he was in a cruel mood.

 Malcolm opened his mouth to give lip but he immediately swallowed it remembering his promise to Carver and then turned back to his food with a sigh. “And here I was actually enjoying my morning.”

 “My bad,” Matthew chuckled. “You’re clearly in the honeymoon period. My sincere congratulations.”

 “Sometimes bros hold hands,” Charlie sank down in his seat, his shoulders hunching.

 Malcolm snarled. “Do you really not have anything better to do with your time?”

 Matthew smirked, motioning for Malcolm to follow him. “You dumb? You owe me something.”

 Malcolm’s stomach dropped. In all the commotion with Leandra and the haunting he had forgotten about Matthew’s order and he wouldn’t be the only one looking. Malcolm reluctantly left his seat to take his conversation with Matthew in private. He was lucky he was still in public where someone could get Carver if necessary. There was no way he would leave with Matthew alone.

 Matthew led him to the same barred window overlooking the ocean and Kirkwall’s skyline. His skin was noticeably yellower and his eyes more bloodshot, and darkened with bags.  

 Malcolm nervously shoved his hands in his pockets speaking lowly. “Look, it’s not here, yet. Didn’t you get the memo about me being pulled on some investigation?”

 The man snarled. “I had to work that fiasco last night and got no sleep. But the fact still is I need it today.”

 “Tonight, then,” Malcolm countered. There would be no going around that. He missed the drop-off and it was still waiting where his contact left it.

 Matthew looked like he wanted to argue but the Second Bell rang, signaling it was time for everyone to go to classes.

 “Tonight,” Matthew sneered then stalked off, disappearing into the flood of students moving.

 Malcolm sighed in relief, never having been so grateful to hear that bell. He walked back to Taylor and Charlie who looked as relieved as he was.  

 He set his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Stay tough, man. I’m not giving up on you, so don’t you give up either.”

 Charlie sighed as if he was tired but he smiled back. “Yeah, sure.”

 Malcolm wished that didn’t sound so sarcastic.

 “Guess I’ll see ya’ll later, then,” Malcolm hoisted his bag over his shoulder, leaving his tray abandoned at the table.

 Taylor raised her eyebrows. “I’ve never seen you eager to go to class.”

 “I’m not eager,” Malcolm argued, walking backwards. “I’m resigned. Devastated. Can’t wait to graduate.”

 Taylor actually laughed at his joke along with Charlie as she picked up her bag. “Whatever, Malcolm. See you in class.”

 Charlie looked at Malcolm’s food with puppy eyes as he started shuffling away. Malcolm couldn’t help the little smile on his lips when he heard, “I can’t believe I’m looking forward to lunch.”

 Malcolm wandered through the flow of traffic into the hallways to his first class, Creation Studies, ran by Enchanter Karena, a conservative biddy who didn’t like when Malcolm corrected her on anything, even if she was teaching things wrong.

 She went by the book and by the book only, even though Malcolm found that most of how magic was taught was backwards and counter-intuitive, based on ritual rather than usefulness. She was very religious and that seeped into every lesson. She saw other schools of magic as evil, finding that Creation was the only one deemed blessed by the Maker, even though the whole practice relied on channeling the healing energies of beneficial spirits, which made the whole thing sound like Chantry sanctioned blood magic when you thought of it. Something she did not appreciate hearing from Malcolm.  

 When he saw the silver haired woman, she was arguing with Carver, her wrinkled face so red she looked like an aged tomato but that stopped as soon as Malcolm walked through.

 Carver was here. That wasn’t good. Still Malcolm hadn’t broken any rules that Carver didn’t help him with.

 Enchanter Karena whirled around, her perfectly pinned bun falling slightly out of place. “Messere Hawke,” she sniffed overly politely.

 Malcolm resisted the urge to poke at her and took his seat with an acknowledging nod, but Carver walked over to his desk.

 “Pick your stuff up. You don’t go to this class anymore.”

 Malcolm blinked. “What?”

 “Absolutely not. That blasphemer has no business doing Cleansings or learning the sacred art of Spirit Healing. Those are for only the Maker’s chosen,” Enchanter Karena argued.

 “Pardon, Senior Enchanter, but if Malcolm has the talent, I believe he falls into that category.”

 Malcolm snorted at the way the Senior Enchanter’s mouth puckered in such a scowl it looked like a dog’s asshole. But then he registered what Carver said. “I’m doing what?”

 Carver smirked. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Now c’mon.”

 The other students looked on in wonder as Carver led Malcolm out of the classroom and back out into the hallway. Gossip started flowing from the classroom and Malcolm sighed. He was already sick of the spotlight.

 “So I’m guessing I don’t have a say in this,” Malcolm grumbled as he clenched the strap of his bag.

 “Do you ever have a say in anything?” Carver quipped.

 Malcolm grumbled. “You can be such an ass.”

 “Not denying that,” Carver grinned. “But I’m on your side.” He nudged Malcolm’s shoulder, the metal biting into him. “Trust me, this will be good for you.”

 Malcolm’s shoulders slumped. How many times had he heard that?

 “Would you perk up if I told you we’re going to see Leandra?”

 Malcolm did, his back straightening like an arrow as he jerked in full attention. “It’s her Cleansing?”

 “Her family’s Cleansing and her   fiancé  ’s, so behave. I can’t babysit you with all these interviews.”

 Her fiancé. He had almost forgotten he existed at all in that perfect night together. Still, Malcolm readied himself like he was going into battle. “I can handle that jerk.”

 “He’s actually quite a nice guy,” Carver quipped, already grinning as the scowl rose from Malcolm.

 “Oh, how great is he? He’s Orlesian,” Malcolm shoved his hands into his pockets hunching.

 Carver laughed heartily, knowing he shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he was, but if he could only tell him that he didn’t need to worry, because Leandra always looked at him like she was mesmerized by his existence. But Carver didn’t know how this story would end, and he also knew the Amell’s a little more intimately through Revka. She had once confided in him in a visit about how she’s all but disowned by the family for birthing so many mages. It would be a hard-fought journey, no question.

 Malcolm felt jittery. Would her brother be there? What would happen if he opened his big mouth and ruined everything? He didn’t seem like the type loyal enough to keep a secret. Still, the promise of seeing Leandra so soon after they had parted was too tempting, even paired with less appealing company. Still, he couldn’t help but feel like this was his first impression on her family, and he did want to impress them. Suddenly he found himself a bundle of tight nerves and he found himself needing to emanate his own calming spell to soothe himself.

 The healing quarters were filled with incense and Chantry symbols and candles even though modern lighting was installed. There was something to be said about creating a healing space to perform, but Malcolm felt like the Chantry sisters were just a little too attached to those candles. Malcolm wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or pleased to see that Enchanter Jakoby was there.

 The three other mages were a bit older and looked at him curiously as the Chantry sisters readied the quarters for the nobility’s arrival. He saw a pale elf with black hair and a rather bird-like features whisper to a man who looked like a vampire for his skin was so lucid it looked like it never touched the sun.

 The ghoulish man laughed at the elf’s whisper and Malcolm shivered at the sound for it seemed to belong to a horror film. The vampire was angular with scrutinizing silver eyes that were as cold as steel and he looked at Malcolm in interest while Malcolm tried his best to ignore him. The third mage seemed to fade into the background for how much presence she made. She was a plumpish woman with tan skin and wavy hair that hid her eyes. She avoided everyone else in the room and looked like she’d rather not be there.

 Enchanter Jakoby clasped hands with Carver greeting him. “Ser Carver, thank you again for your intervention last night.”

 Carver nodded humbly. “Only doing my duty.”

 “Well, we’re blessed to have you,” the Enchanter beamed before his smile turned playful at Malcolm, “and we’re blessed to have you, too.”

 Was Malcolm pleased that Enchanter Jakoby wanted him in his classroom? He found any snarky reply that he would have said died in his throat. It was a nice change of pace since he was used to being seen as the local pain in the ass, but part of him felt like he was giving in too easy. “So, you’re just making me a Spirit Healer? Don’t I have to pass some test?”

 “The Cleansing will be your test,” the Enchanter nodded. “If the Amell’s are satisfied with your performance then you’ll graduate into a full Enchanter and into my class as well as take on new duties.”

 “Great,” Malcolm tried not to make that sound sarcastic but it still laced his voice. “So I’m the school nurse now. Any other surprises?”

 “As part of your graduation requirements you will be required to help tutor younger apprentices.”

 Malcolm’s face twisted. Now this was unacceptable. “You really want to put me with kids? The guy that says fuck every other sentence?”

 Enchanter Jakoby looked amused. “Don’t worry. Since you're graduating out of season it’ll be at least a week to arrange the paperwork and find a class for you. You’ll have some time to practice substitutes. Try fudge.”

 “No fucking way,” Malcolm snorted.

 Carver cleared his throat, glaring at Malcolm.

 Malcolm almost blurted out, ‘no fudging way’ just out of habit, but Carver’s stern glare kept the insolence in his throat and he sighed reluctantly. “I mean, I’ll find a way.”

 He didn’t realize it would be so hard to keep this promise.

 Enchanter Jakoby mouthed ‘thank you’ to Carver who only nodded in response.

 Carver then turned to Malcolm with a stern look. “Remember your manners in front of the nobility.”

 Malcolm cracked out the tension building in his neck. “Yeah, yeah, I remember.”

 With that Carver abandoned him to class.

 The next hour was spent in instruction by Enchanter Jakoby not about how to perform Cleansings, as that was a simple thing that most proper Enchanters could manage, but how to address the nobility. There was a lot of protocol about where to stand, how to address a Lord, how not to stare directly in one’s eyes to offend. There were so many ways to offend.  

 Malcolm tried his best to listen like he promised, but he found his mind had gotten in a habit of tuning the Enchanter’s voice out and so he kept catching himself daydreaming about Leandra’s kisses. Malcolm was nervous trying to learn all these new rules but from what he figured the best policy was just to stick to the background and just not bother to talk to anybody unless they needed him. How he was even going to get a word to Leandra he had no idea.

 Then they were each handed a staff to use, just simple metal rods only used for channeling and not fighting. The Enchanter reached through the Veil coating himself with magic, instructing his students to do the same. Malcolm could hear the whispers of the excited spirits answering his summons, flooding their energy into him so he burned the brightest of them all, making the others glance nervously at the difference.

 The Enchanter couldn’t help but beam at the fact that Malcolm was taking instruction so well. No chiding needed. No snark. His eyes were closed in concentration, the colors coming off his flames reflecting rainbows.

 “We start by Cleansing our own auras, because if we ourselves are infected then we will infect our subjects. Now clear your minds and breathe with me.”

 Every mage in the Circle learned how to cleanse their auras from a young age. It was necessary in order to not attract demons in the Fade, so it felt like they were back in Basics as they sat in silence just listening to their own heartbeats as they opened themselves up to the Fade. “If you have doubts or pain or fears open them up now and offer them to the Maker.”

 Malcolm tried not to snort but the sound still echoed through the chamber. In all his walkings of the Fade he had never heard the voice of a God of any kind, just spirits. Still they were eager to pluck up the darker thoughts in his mind until his own thoughts echoed back at him.

     You’re being stupid. She’s a noble. And human. She’ll betray you. Or abandon you. Why are you trusting her? What about your plans to escape? She’s going to ruin everything.  

 The spirits picked at the thoughts in curiosity, like they were baubles in a shop.

 “Don’t give the thoughts power. Just offer them up to the flame and let them be transformed,” the Enchanter instructed.

 Malcolm’s aura lit up in a cloak of flames as the spirits combed through old pain, touching upon his deep-seated anger so he could taste it on his teeth. They poured through his memories so they flowed through him, the good and the bad. His mom, his dad, being kidnapped to the Circle, meeting Carver, Taylor and Charlie, Gamlen’s ugly judgement, Leandra’s righteous anger, burning with jealousy as he watched her on Guillaume’s arm, how she grabbed his tie at the karaoke club and kissed him in front of everyone. The spirits ended up latching onto Leandra’s song, the lyrics filling him with peace as they echoed it in his head and he focused on that until the rest of the doubts floated away until all was left with music.

 “That’s no good. You’ll cleanse no one with that aura.”

 Malcolm opened his eyes but the Enchanter, whose flame burned bright and blue wasn’t speaking to him but to the mousy woman who hid her face. Her flames were dark, purple and smoky and she seemed to be having difficulty with connecting with the Fade.

 The woman stopped the spell breathing heavily. “I’m sorry, Enchanter, I’m just not feeling well today.” Her shoulders looked shaky from the spell.

 The Enchanter frowned sympathetically, closing his connection to the Fade until his bright blue flaming aura died in a smoke. “Well, you won’t be able to participate like that. You may sit out for the noble’s Cleansing but you’ll need to stay and observe.” He then turned to the three men with a pleased smile motioning them to end the spell with a calm wave of his hand.

 “Gentlemen, very well done, especially you Malcolm. I believe you have a talent for this.”

 The other men glanced at Malcolm as he swelled, but their heads quickly snapped back as their names were called.

 “Orsino, Quentin, why don’t you all get acquainted by teaching Malcolm the basics about performing a Cleansing on another person. Be brief though. The nobility arrives any minute now.”

 “Yes, Enchanter,” they spoke in unison like it was rehearsed.

 The Enchanter then turned to the other mage. “Melissa, over here. I’ll have to take care of your aura, later.” He dragged her away to one of the spare cots in the room.

 Then the men both turned on Malcolm, their eyes sparkling in interest and Malcolm suddenly felt like he was on an observation table about to be poked and prodded from every angle.

 “So Malcolm was it?”  The   creepy mage had his arms behind his back as he strolled lazily up to Malcolm. He easily towered over both elves, staring down his pointed nose at each of them.

 “You can call me Hawke,” Malcolm decided suddenly, feeling that his first name in that man’s mouth was just too familiar.

 “Sure Hawke,” the green-eyed elf offered his hand, his black hair slicked back neatly. He also looked far too skinny for his clothes, his hand thin and bony. “I’m Orsino. Nice to see another elf made it into this program.”

 “Sure,” Malcolm took the hand not wanting to start off on the wrong foot though he wasn’t sure that they’d get along just because they were elves.

 The other willowy man offered his thin hand. “I’m Quentin. And you may call me that.”

 Malcolm took the man’s hand too and his nerves locked on edge. Was Enchanter Jakoby certain about this man’s aura? Malcolm felt a coldness in him that seemed unnatural, and Malcolm took back his hand quickly resisting a shiver. He wasn’t sure why but he didn’t like that man but it felt more like instinct than prejudice. He didn’t like the way he smiled, how he moved, how his eyes studied him like a lab rat.

 “So Cleansing someone else’s soul is simple. We guide them through a meditation as we channel their auras into the Fade so their darker actions and thoughts do not get attacked by demons like so,” Quentin then waved his hand pouring Fade magic into Malcolm as he felt his magic coat him, foul with dark energy.

 Malcolm automatically cast a dispel to interrupt the examination. His mind felt a little tingly, like something had tried to pry it open. Did the bastard just try to read him? “Watch it, Q-ball.”

 The man reddened, apparently self-conscious about his thinning hairline. “Just demonstrating,” Quentin squinted his eyes. “You hide it well but I did sense some dark anger in that aura. Dangerous for healers. A friendly warning from your upperclassman.”

 His mind still tingled from the man’s magic making Malcolm’s hands glow in his own spell. “Is it my turn?”              

 Orsino stepped between them hastily. “Perhaps we should focus on examining our patients.” He looked apologetically to Malcolm. “Forgive Quentin. He can be overeager.”

 “Well tell him to watch it. I can, too,” Malcolm huffed, shaking away the spell from his fingers.

 Orsino folded his hands, taking over instruction as he tried to diffuse the situation. “The meditation is usually taken from the Canticle of Trials. You are familiar?” The question was more of a statement and Malcolm found himself stuttering. Was now a good time to say he always slept through Mass?

 “Uh, sure I’m familiar,” Malcolm lied.

 Orsino smiled. “Good then we won’t have to go over that.”

 “Maybe, we should go over it a little,” Malcolm quickly backpedaled.

 But then Meredith and Matthew marched into the room standing straighter than usual. Malcolm noticed that Meredith was glaring at him in particular and he couldn’t help but poke at her with a mock salute.

 Meredith tried to keep the scowl from her face but her lips still twisted in a snarl. “Announcing the arrival of the esteemed Houses Amell and De Lancet,” Meredith’s voice sounded bitter with the false energy she forced into the greeting.

 Malcolm bowed his head with the rest of the mages as the nobles paraded in, two by two, bringing with them the aroma of expensive perfumes and fresh coffee that they still clutched in their hands. Malcolm recognized Leandra’s parents striding in first, in coordinated red outfits. They took the prominent place in front. Guillaume’s parents, a greying red-headed couple in royal purple took the next highest place on the Amells’ right hand, and Leandra and Guillaume came next, completely uncoordinated and settling onto her parent’s left hand side still sipping their cups.

 Malcolm couldn’t help but drag his eyes up Leandra’s legs admiring the newly revealed curves that her other dress hid. Leandra stopped mid-sip, reddening as the coffee dribbling down her chin a bit as she noticed Malcolm in the room staring.

 Malcolm winked, holding back a laugh as she wiped her chin with her hand. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

 Her mother scowled, stepping out of place as she took a red handkerchief and wiped it away properly, making apologetic eyes to the De Lancets. “Leandra, really, I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”

 Guillaume chuckled. “It’s rather adorable actually.”

 Malcolm tried to keep the sneer off his face but his whole jaw clenched as he tried to remember his place. He lowered his head again, remembering he was just supposed to be furniture.

 Her mother sighed as if she was tired. “I’m glad you think so, dear.” Her mother then took her place measuring each mage against the other. “Is this the whole selection, templar?”

 Meredith bristled. “Spirit healing is a very rare art, Lady Amell.”

 “Still, there is the instructor, no?” Lady Amell sniffed, smoothing out an already perfect strand of greying hair. “Bring him before me.”

 Enchanter Jakoby waited for Matthew to bring him from his place in the wall, and he bowed deeply before Lady Amell saying nothing as she inspected him, too.

 “Ah,” she said in a disappointed tone. “Also an elf.”

 Leandra’s eyes widened, as she reddened in embarrassment, looking apologetically at the Enchanter but the remark didn’t even seem to phase him.

 “Permission to speak, Lady Amell?” Enchanter Jakoby asked evenly.

 “Granted,” Lady Amell nodded in a bored tone as she sipped her coffee.

 “While I would be happy to perform your Cleansing, my students are more than capable to attend to you.”

 “Very well,” she snapped her fingers at Quentin. “You’ll do.”

 Quentin bowed deeply. “I am honored to attend you.”

 Lady De Lancet seemed to eagerly be inspecting Orsino against Malcolm, her gaze a leering and predatory. “Well I think elves are rather pretty.”

 Malcolm gritted his teeth as she stepped up to Malcolm and Orsino, her heels echoing against the stone. She looked them up and down her eyes lingering on their backsides in full view of her husband. Malcolm bit his tongue as he hoped she thought Orsino was prettier.

 But she stepped in front of Malcolm. “You…” she lifted his chin with her manicured nail. “You performed beautifully last night.”

 “Thank you?” Was Malcolm supposed to say something else? He didn’t trust anything flattering to come out of his mouth so he just avoided her eyes as she studied his face.

 She leaned down to meet his eye, patting his cheek fondly with her glove. “I think I’d like you to attend to me, mon petit.”

 Malcolm felt like a worm on the end of a hook about to be swallowed. He audibly gulped. “Uuuh…you don’t want me, I barely started class this morning. Don’t even know the Chant, proper.” Orsino’s bright green eyes widened in alarm as Malcolm grabbed his arm and yanked him forward. “Orsino, here, is just as pretty and has been at this a lot longer.”

 Lady de Lancet tittered in amusement. “I don’t mind breaking you in.”

 Orsino kept his professional smile but his eyes were glaring at Malcolm while Malcolm scanned the room looking for anyone to help.

 Leandra was already fuming from Lady de Lancet’s brazen forwardness, which wasn’t out of character for her, but the lady was practically fondling Malcolm in full view of her husband who was just boredly sipping his frappe’ as he played a candy puzzle game on his phone. She stepped out of place and curtsied politely announcing herself with a, “Pardon me, Lady de Lancet, but may I have a moment of your time?”

 Her parents glared at her, and Guillaume subtly waved at Leandra to come back but Leandra stayed, though she had no idea what exactly to say.

 The lady tutted and turned back to her. “Yes, dear?” she said, the patience in her voice wearing thin.

 Leandra glanced at Malcolm who looked at her expectantly and so she said, “If the mage is so new to this, perhaps I should be the one to be his first test. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

 She looked apologetically at Malcolm for throwing him under the bus but he looked relieved.

 The lady didn’t seem to take kindly to this but before she could speak Enchanter Jakoby stepped forward, his head bowed. “Pardon, but her ladyship has a point. Malcolm is talented but…” the Enchanter trailed off looking to the Heavens as he tried to find a suitable word before he landed on, “untested. I will be coaching him every step of the way, but Orsino is very capable in his own right, and can anticipate your needs much better.”

 Lady de Lancet clucked her tongue. “Oh, very well.” She looked rather annoyed but seemed reluctant to wager her health no matter how pretty that face looked. She snapped at Orsino. “You, come with me.”

 Lady Amell took her husband’s arm as she led him to one of the cots. “I guess we’re starting then.”

 Chantry sisters came bringing bowls of water and towels and set them at the foot at each of the beds that were stone and scoured for a bath of flame. As Leandra and Guillaume approached arm in arm, Enchanter Jakoby and Malcolm bowed and stayed that way until they got comfortable on the cot. Then Enchanter Jakoby led Malcolm in a kneel.  

 On one side of the room the Amell matriarch was flagging down a Chantry sister to say, “I don’t want a mage to touch me.”

 Quentin remained silent as the Chantry sister nodded and took his place kneeling on the floor. Malcolm didn’t envy him, but at the same time every comment from Leandra’s parents dropped his stomach. He wasn’t even a consideration.

 However Lady de Lancet was a bullet he was happy to dodge. He could see Orsino squirming as she eagerly kicked off her heels. “Now make sure to get in between the toes, dearie.”

 Malcolm shuddered. He wouldn’t blame Orsino if he hated him for this.

 The first part of the ritual meant bathing the noble's feet. Why the nobles couldn’t be bothered to bathe their own feet he wasn’t sure why. In Enchanter Jakoby’s lesson he spoke about how the ritual that went back to Andraste’s last day, when her disciple and friend Justinia begged Archon Hessarian to prepare her living body for the Maker. It was said in Andraste’s last hours Justinia was allowed into her cell, offering prayers to prepare her soul and cleansed her remaining sins by offering them to the Maker as the filth was washed from her feet. Malcolm could not find reverence in an old dead woman who couldn’t keep her promise of freedom to her elven allies, but he could find it in touching Leandra.

 Malcolm was not a foot guy, not even close, but even he couldn’t deny how soft her skin was, each toe trimmed and polished, with cute little deco designs that seemed a shame to hide in her shoes. He could tell from her ankles that they were swollen from how long she had been standing in heels, and as he gently pinched at the tendon at her ankle releasing tension.

 “Oh!” Leandra made a surprised sound that she bit down on her lip, her eyes glancing to Guillaume who seemed to also perk at the sound.

 Malcolm felt a devilish impulse pull at his gut at the flush that colored her face from his slightest touch and he couldn’t help but dig his thumbs into the flat of her arch, his heart tugging at the sweet sigh he pulled from her. He sent little soothing healing pulses through his fingers as he renewed his determination, trying to see what more sounds he could force her to make.

 Leandra was melting under his touch, holding back the moans in her throat, but still he could hear the tiniest whimpers escape setting Malcolm’s imagination alight. He suddenly wished no one else was there so he could pull her skirt up and bury himself between her legs so he could hear her cry for him. He knew he was winning the battle, her composure seemed to be coming undone, but before he could claim victory another voice reminded him what he was supposed to be doing.

 “Messere Hawke, I believe her feet are clean enough,” the Enchanter cleared his throat.

 Leandra took back her foot forcefully almost falling over, her eyes flinging to Guillaume who was also going slightly red at the sounds and faces Leandra was making.

 “Just being thorough,” Malcolm hid a haughty smirk, wondering if Guillaume ever managed to make Leandra sound like that but he regretted that line of thought immediately.

 “Perhaps I should give you a massage, sometime,” Guillaume offered with a flirtatious tone that made Malcolm clench his fists to keep from clocking him in the jaw.

 Leandra patted her hot cheeks. “Perhaps,” she said evasively, but Malcolm didn’t like the thought of the man trying to put his hands all over Leandra and he couldn’t suppress the ugly scowl that took over his face.

 Enchanter Jakoby grabbed a staff that was handed to him by a Chantry sister. “Now that the physical impurities have been taken care of, we will now purify your souls. My lord. My lady, please concentrate on offering your sins to the Maker as we sing the Chant.”

 Malcolm took the paltry staff from the Chantry sister, trying to ignore his seething jealousy as the staff started channeling with magic Malcolm and Enchanter Jakoby poured from the Fade. Malcolm could hear all the spirits chattering, scouring into their memories so that he saw flashes of Leandra’s younger days. He tried not to glimpse too closely, but he could see the imprint of her loneliness hidden behind a careful smile that she used for everyone. Her soul had been flattened, like a flower that had been stomped on but still stubbornly peeking up the sunshine trying to take in little bits of light.

 He heard Enchanter Jakoby’s voice take in a chanting intonation, Orsino and Quentin’s voice harmonizing with him.

 “I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Fade

 For there is no darkness, and no death, in the Maker’s light

 And nothing he has wrought has been lost.”

 Then each of the nobles' auras burned brilliantly as they each bared the darkness of their souls to the Fade. Leandra looked magnificent, too beautiful to be real, amber dancing against her skin as her dark hair ruffled lightly in the burning light. Malcolm almost reached out to touch the magic, to see what her burn would feel like on his skin before he remembered that others still watched them. Still, he couldn’t miss how her eyes watched his every move.

 “For she was reborn to us in flame

 And so flame we consume to be reborn

 May, He Who Burns The Brightest

 Purify the sins we hide in our hearts

 So that we may know true peace.”

 Then the flame snuffed out. All of the nobles looked bright and cheerful, like they each had an invigorated spirit-induced power nap, except for Lord de Lancet who looked pale and uneasy. Unlike the other nobles, the Cleansing seemed to have worn him out and his skin was showing a sheen of sweat.

 “My, that was bracing,” the Lord patted his face with a purple handkerchief.

 His wife tucked to his side with a concerned look on her face. “Darling, did the Cleansing not rejuvenate you.”

 “Oh, I’m rejuvenated, absolutely,” but the man sounded absolutely winded. “Just the old war injury flaring, that’s all.”

 Malcolm felt there was something odd about that. Rightfully a Cleansing should ease old pains, and though not every wound could be Cleansed, it shouldn’t be having that effect.

 Enchanter Jakoby bowed his head and approached the de Lancets. “If you’d like I could take a look.”

 Lord de Lancet nodded tightly and said, “it couldn’t hurt.”

 The Enchanter scanned the man’s aura, focusing on his back where the pain seemed to radiate and Malcolm thought he saw it in the flicker of the Enchanter’s magic, but the Enchanter stopped his spell and said, “I’m sorry, my Lord. I thought there might be something else causing it but I see nothing out of the ordinary.”

 Lord de Lancet rubbed his back nodding as if he expected that and said. “Yes, I’ve spent a fortune on chiropractors and masseuse’s and numbing injections but the pain just comes back worse than ever.”

 Another clue for Malcolm and he stepped forward, forgetting all protocol. “Do you get nightmares…of the exact moment you got your wound?”

 The man’s eyes widened in alarm, but he said, “The psychiatrist told me that was normal.”

 “And are you forgetful lately? Having trouble remembering things that used to be easy?” Malcolm prodded more.

 The man’s face reddened to almost the color of his mustache and he straightened his jacket. “How impertinent. You are not privileged to my medical history.”

 But Lady de Lancet placed a slightly wrinkled hand on her husband’s puffed shoulder. “You have been needing an awful lot of reminders, lately, Reynaud.”

 “I’ve just been stressed, Amelia.”

 But Enchanter Jakoby noticed there was a look on Malcolm’s face and he put his finger on his lightly stubbled chin. “Do you have a prognosis?”

 Malcolm looked at the Enchanter rather than the nobles for permission, breaking another rule. “May I have a look?”

 The Enchanter motioned with his head to the noble who didn’t look pleased with Malcolm’s offer. “What makes you think you could make a difference?”

 Malcolm shrugged. “I mean, I might not, but it could prove educational.” If the Lord didn’t want his help, he wouldn’t force it.

 But Lord de Lancet seemed to be in so much pain he was willing to try anything. He nodded, muttering, “Very well.”

 Malcolm poured magic back into him, revealing the tapestry of his energy in an array of light. He could see the war wound that festered into the spine damaging nerves all along his hip, but what he couldn’t figure out was how the others missed the knot of corded energy that seemed to snake in the heart of the wound, gnarling it up. The pain seemed to be feeding, growing more agitated with the feel of his magic. Was Malcolm the only one that could see it?

 He poked at the knot with his finger. “Is it tender here?”

 No sooner did Malcolm brush it did the noble cry out in pain, and Malcolm couldn’t deny he did relish the sound a little.

 “Andraste’s flaming knickerweasels what are you doing back there!”

 “Yep, we got ourselves a pain demon,” Malcolm cracked his neck nonchalantly stretching. “This one’s really burrowed into you. No wonder the Cleansing couldn’t take effect.”

 “What!?” Lord de Lancet cried out his face paling.    

 Lady de Lancet smacked him on the arm which made him whimper more. “I told you that’s why you shouldn’t skip Cleansings, but do you listen to me?”

 Enchanter Jakoby’s smile reached all the way to his eyes. “Malcolm, how did you spot it? It was hiding very well.”

 Malcolm looked puzzled as if it should have been obvious. “Don’t you see how the energy in his aura moves differently around the pain spike?” Malcolm pointed to the knot in the magic as both Orsino and Quentin huddled in for a closer look. He motioned to the red ugly festering energy that stayed twisted up in the lord’s back. “You can see here is where the natural pain is,” Malcolm waved his hand down his thigh as he mimicked the energy’s movement, “but here the energy moves differently on it’s own wavelength. It’s not actually part of him.”

 “Ooooooh,” the men said in unison as if everything was now obvious to them, too.

 “Yes, yes very fascinating. Now will you get it out of me before it kills me!”

 “Have no fear, My Lord. Pain demons are rarely lethal. Just painful,” Malcolm had forgotten all the training the Enchanter coached into him and without a thought put his hand over the knot, and twisted his fingers into the energy. The colors grew red and chaotic, the bright energy growing from the wound.

 “Now just breathe,” Malcolm commanded, as he grasped around the essence of the demon, feeling the wrongness festering. Lord de Lancet cried out as Malcolm pulled. The creature was starting to become visible under Malcolm’s palm, a sickening black bloody vein-like leech with gnashing teeth screeching in a volume so high-pitched it deafened everyone’s hearing. Then it shriveled and burned away into Malcolm’s brilliant flaming magic until it was nothing but ash.

 “Now how does that feel?” Malcolm pulled his hand away.

 The man’s eyes widened as he patted his back which was not locking up in stiffness anymore. “Andraste’s Mercy. I feel twenty years younger,” He looked to Malcolm in disbelief.

 “You look it, Reynaud,” his wife placed a fond hand on his cheek.

 “Just doing my job,” Malcolm bowed his head with a pleased smirk on his lips. Leandra was beaming at him and he couldn’t help but notice even her parents weren’t looking with the same disgust only moments before.

 That smirk quickly dropped when Lady de Lancet started straightening her husband’s tie, “That settles it. We have to have him as a House Mage.”

 Shit.

 Lord de Lancet looked at Malcolm with renewed interest. “I think you’re absolutely, right, mon amie.”

 Enchanter Jakoby looked pleased, but a little hesitant to agree forthwith. “Malcolm is not a full Enchanter, yet, more an Enchanter in training.”

 “Well then we’ll pluck him up as soon as he’s ripened,” Lady de Lancet twisted her fingers into a promise.

 Malcolm froze, the urge to self-sabotage with a rude comment so strong he bit his tongue to keep himself silent. If he had realized that helping that lord would have led to this he would have let the Orlesian suffer.

 But Leandra also seemed to find this unacceptable and stepped forward. “Pardon,” Leandra said in a voice too forceful to be polite, and before she realized she was doing it she curtsied in front of Lady de Lancet and said, “but I find that with the Haunting I feel absolutely terrified,” she added a believable wobble to her lip, “I do fear that, I, too, might be under a curse and am in desperate need of protection from a House Mage.” She met Malcolm’s eyes as she added, “and only the best will do.”

 “Absolutely not!” Meredith’s outraged voice called out cutting through the discussion that was happening. She looked completely frazzled, as if she couldn’t fathom what was happening in front of her eyes. “You might not know this but Malcolm Hawke is a well-known trouble-maker in the Circle. He is not fit to serve the noble houses and will dishonor you all.”

 Leandra audibly huffed. “Was it not Malcolm who saved everyone last night?”

 “And he did spot the demon even the instructor missed,” Lord de Lancet also stretched his back, admiring the new looseness in his body.

 Meredith scowled, seething with so much hatred for Malcolm he was sure she’d pop a gasket. “Believe me that talent makes him more dangerous.”

 He glared back defiantly. That it did. If only she knew.

 “Pardon,” Enchanter Jakoby raised his finger to silence the argument that was about to spring up from everyone. “But I’m afraid until he has proper training he won’t be doing anything than catching up on his graduation requirements.”

There was a finality in his words that told Malcolm no matter his future, he would be in for a lot of work, and for the first time in his life he found himself praying to the Maker to be kind.  

[aster-aspera]

Forget-me-nots

CW: major character death, character with little regard for their own life, mentions of injury, explosions, minor original characters

Relationship: romantic DLAMP

Song is Elsa's song by The Amazing Devil. I highly recommend you go listen to it, not only because it's an amazing song but also because it plays a big part in this chapter.

Masterpost for the rest of my superhero AU (this chapter isn’t part of the main story)

Patton felt his chest squeeze tight when the message came in.

“Suspected bomb in the university, time to ignition unknown.” Aisha’s voice reported.

“Who’s closest?” Virgil asked.

“Pathos, but he’ll need assistance, the unseen have blocked all the ways out and there’s loads of civilians trapped there.” He heard the tapping of keys and assumed Aisha was coming up with a battle plan.

“Okay, Prince, Storm, you guys head over there, engage the unseen. Deceit and Vortex, you head over once you’re done and help get the civilians out. Pat, I need you to get into the uni and disable the bomb.”

Patton swallowed nervously. “Me? Wouldn’t Logos be better?”

“Ideally, yes. But he’s engaged at the other end of the city, the unseen are literally everywhere.” Aisha groaned in frustration.

Patton felt like echoing that groan. He really wasn’t qualified for this, he wasn’t very good at technology, that was Logan and Aisha’s area and he didn’t have the nerves of steel required to calmly defuse a bomb. He was really just the sniper of the group. He hoped he wouldn’t mess up this job too badly.

I can hear the cannons calling  

As though across a dream

He stared at university, where members of the unseen were walking around, herding students into the central building.

“What is their plan?” He asked aloud, mostly just to get the question off his chest. With the unseen, it was almost always impossible to know what their plan was, sometimes it wasn’t even clear after the fact.

“I have no clue.” Aisha confirmed his musings.

“Okay, there’s a sky light you can use to get in undetected. I think the bomb is in the library, so you’ll have to get there without being discovered.”

Patton looked at the map Aisha had sent him. The skylight was two floors above the library.

“Is there no way directly into the library?”

“There’s three doors, one of which is unguarded and accessible through the only other unguarded point, the sky light.” Aisha explained impatiently “So, no. There’s no other way in.”

“Alright, I was just asking.” Patton tried to defuse. He wasn’t hurt by Aisha snapping at him. The situation over the whole city was tense, with the unseen somehow managing to hold three different areas at once. The whole team had been working non stop to take back control of the city, and everyone was tired.

And I can smell the smoke of hell      

In every stitch and seam

He hesitated a moment.

“Pathos?” Aisha prompted.

“Yeah, sorry, just nervous about the bomb thing.”

“Hey, don’t worry about that, I’ll be here to guide you.”

Patton felt a bit foolish being comforted by a teen who was about ten years younger than him. He shouldn’t be placing that burden on her, he was the experienced one, he was the mentor, he shouldn’t be relying on her for comfort. Regardless, he felt steadied by the knowledge Aisha would tell him what to do and quietly headed in.

And like flowers, the bodies tumble    

Around this muddied lot      

He stared in horror at the device in front of him. He had seen and defused bombs before, but this didn’t even look remotely close to anything he was used to.

“Um, A?” He asked, sending a scan to her.

“Oh, wow.” She gasped “Okay, well uhm… That’s not ideal.”

“Not ideal? I think this is a little more than just not ideal.”

“Yeah, hold on, I’m working on it.”

“What do I do? We need to get the civilians out.”

“Prince and Storm are nearby, they’ll start evacuating, I need you to stay here and be my hands.”

“Okay.”

He heard Aisha frantically tapping at the keyboard and occasionally she would ask him to send pictures or scans of a specific area.

“Sure you can’t find a countdown anywhere?” She asked for the fifth time.

“No.” Patton sighed.

The lack of a countdown was unnerving him. While a clock slowly ticking towards your doom wasn’t exactly reassuring, it was better than sitting next to an explosive with no idea when it could go off.

Noise echoed from somewhere on the campus: gunshots and screaming.

“A? What’s going on?” He asked, shooting upright.

“We’re here.” Roman’s voice declared triumphantly, then cut off with a yell.

“Prince, you alright there, kiddo?” Patton asked, vaguely worried.

“He’s fine, just needs to pay attention more.” Virgil sighed.

“Pat, look at that red wire for me please.” Aisha cut in.

“Will you be okay?” Virgil asked.

No, I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m nervous, I’m really not qualified for this Patton thought. But he just brushed Virgil off, they’d been doing this for years, he could handle this. He had to handle this, the others were counting on him.

I cannot hear them scream    

‘Forget me not.’

What felt like hours later, but in reality was probably closer to half an hour, they still hadn’t gotten it. Aisha was groaning in frustration and cursing her wheelchair.

“If I could be there in person, I would have solved it already.” She griped.

Patton tried not to flinch at the reminder of his uselessness, she probably wished it was Logan in this room, not him.

Janus and Kiara had arrived by now and the evacuation was in full swing. The fighting had stopped abruptly a few minutes ago, when all members of the unseen had mysteriously fled. That really wasn’t helping Patton’s confidence.

Your voice it carries over

The hubbub and the hum

“Are you guys getting anywhere?” Janus asked.

“No, I can’t figure it out, I’ve never seen anything like it.” Aisha answered.

“Well, you better hurry, the evacuation isn’t going as smoothly as we would like, it might take a while longer.”

“You guys be careful, be ready to get out of there if we can’t disable it.” Patton said.

“We’ll be safe, love, but what about you?” Janus asked.

Patton ignored that question, clicking his comms off and focusing on the bomb again. There were too many civilians still in the building, he couldn’t leave till he knew the bomb wasn’t a danger anymore or everyone was a safe distance away.

And it paints the sky and circles high  

Like the beating of a drum

“Pat, you might have to consider leaving. We have no idea when it can go off and we might not figure it out in time.” Aisha said.

“There’s still too many people here, we have to keep trying.”

He wasn’t leaving yet, he had to help these people. If he stopped now, how many lives would that cost? It was his job as a hero to save them, even if it cost him his life. It wasn’t like he mattered that much anyways. He had no special skills, the team wouldn’t even have to find a replacement.

“Pat, please, it’s been almost an hour. It isn’t safe anymore, you have to come out.” Virgil pleaded.

Patton stubbornly ignored their comments, snapping at Aisha to stop worrying and stay focused. They were nearly there, they had to be.

You will scream ‘I won’t forget you’  

But I’ll cover my cold ears

“Patton, how many times have I told you it’s okay to put yourself first. You’re not going to save anyone by letting yourself get blown up. Please just listen to us and get out of there.” Janus pleaded.

Patton groaned in frustration. “This wouldn’t have happened if it was anyone else. I just can’t figure it out, I’m useless.”

“Nonsense.” Logan snapped, presumably following the conversation from where he was making his way over to them. “From the description A gave, I doubt even I would have been able to figure it out. It’s not your fault.” He finished gently.

Patton got up, feeling miserable and useless. How many people was he leaving here to die? But they were right, he wasn’t doing anyone any good staying here.

“I’m coming out.” He announced.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

“I thought you did that years ago.” Roman joked. “I mean, you are dating four guys.”

Patton chuckled, then whirled around in horror as the bomb started beeping behind him.

“Aisha?” He asked, panicked.

“Shit! Run!” She yelled and in that moment, Patton knew he was done for.

“I love you guys.” He breathed and could hear various yells in the earpiece before the world exploded in fire and pain.

It cannot be a lie  

If no-one hears.

~

Patton watched miserably as Roman gently cut away Logan’s sleeve. Janus sat perched on the counter, watching them intently. Logan followed Roman’s movements, his eyes blurry with pain. Patton felt his chest squeeze when Logan bit back a groan at Roman jostling his arm.

“Sorry.” He muttered “Painkillers haven’t kicked in yet?”

Logan just shook his head.

Patton curled his fingers around the chair in guilt. It was his fault. He should have paid attention, should have been faster.

A roar from the entrance snapped him out of his thoughts. Virgil kicked the bike stand down and strode over to them, his hair mussed from the helmet.

“What happened?” He asked, focused and direct as always.

“Acid, Logan got burns all over his arm.” Janus explained.

“It was my fault, I should have paid attention, I should have stopped it.” Patton said miserably, then curled in on himself when all eyes turned to him. Now he was just being whiny. They all knew it was his fault, pointing it out like that just sounded self pitying.

Of course, Janus immediately started to refute it. They always made an effort to make him feel better, it was sweet. He just wished he was worthy of their praise.

“Patton, you know it’s not your fault, right?” He started gently.

Logan hissed suddenly.

“Can you watch out with that?” He snapped at Roman.

“Well, sorry I’m trying to save your arm, microsoft nerd. I can also just leave it like that!”

Janus sighed as Roman waved him over to help. Patton breathed a sigh of relief at that topic of conversation being over. Only Virgil hadn’t let it go yet.

He sat down on the armrest of Patton’s chair.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He brushed off.

Cos although you say good day to me  

I know I don’t belong

Virgil clearly didn’t believe him and took his hand. “It’s not your fault, Pat. We can’t always see everything coming.”

“Right, because if it had been you or Janus then you definitely wouldn’t have seen such an obvious trap coming.” Patton laughed bitterly.

“There’s no guarantee we would have. Even we fuck up occasionally.”

“Language.” Virgil rolled his eyes.

“And we have years more training, it's not fair to put yourself down like that.”

Right, because even after years of being a hero, they were still making excuses for him. He still wasn’t good enough, fast enough, smart enough. Everyone in the team had their specialty, Virgil was their best fighter, Logan was smart, Roman was their medical expert and Janus was their former crime boss. They were all good at something, and where did that leave him?

He could shoot, yeah. But who needed that when Virgil could just kick all their asses by hand, when Janus and Logan could set up elaborate schemes that didn’t even require any kicking of ass to get the criminals in jail?

And although you hold my hand and say  

‘I love you’, you are wrong.    

Patton was on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He should go downstairs, join the others. He could hear their chatter all the way up in the bedroom.

The mood had lifted a bit after Roman had declared the burns on Logan’s arm weren’t that serious and they were having their customary ‘someone got hurt comfort dinner’.

Patton didn’t really feel motivated to join.

Because love does not exist here    

In this garden there’s no feeling

The door opened and Logan popped his head around the corner.

“Oh, hey Lo.” Patton tried cheerfully, but it came out sounding a bit shaky.

Logan smiled gently. “May I come in?”

“Course, it’s your bedroom too.”

“Are you alright?” He asked.

Patton felt like sighing at those familiar words. He’d heard them so many times tonight and the nights before that. Always that concern for him, their weakest member. Even though he didn’t really deserve it, even though most of the time it was his fault.

And you say the words so often    

That I barely know the meaning

“I’m fine.” He groaned “Why do you guys keep asking?”

“Because we’re worried about you.”

“Me? You’re the one who’s hurt.”

“Roman said I would be fine, the physical wounds will heal. I’m just worried about the mental ones.”

“What? Mental wounds, I’m fine Logan. It really isn’t that serious.” Patton laughed.

“It’s not the first time you’ve blamed yourself without any cause for it. I just want to make sure you’re aware it wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m aware.” Patton said. Did he really believe himself though? It always felt like empty reassurances when they told him he wasn’t at fault.

He wanted to believe his lovers wouldn’t lie to him, but they were all just so kind. They wouldn’t want him to feel guilty, even if that meant they had to lie. He wondered why they still let him come along. He just got in the way.

And when all the flowers are rotten    

And all the cannons shot  

“Will you come downstairs and join us?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, give me a minute, I’m coming.”

I’ll scream, but you won’t hear    

‘Forget me not’

~

In the end, ten people still died. Figures, even in death Patton had failed. Even then he hadn’t been able to save them. Maybe it was better, at least now, he wouldn’t be able to mess things up anymore.

His family didn’t take it well, of course they didn’t. They always cared too much, even about him.

And in years to come you’ll wander

To the place up on our hill

He wished he could hold them, just one last time. Tell them ‘it’s alright, don’t mourn, you’ll be alright’.

He watched as the Rewind team, the teens they mentored, fought with more vigour than ever before. They took the job of the grieving heroes, of him, and carried them out with a sense of honour. He felt proud, looking at them. They were so much more than he had ever been, they would lead this city towards a better future.

Aisha visited his grave, drove her car all the way up country and rolled her wheelchair along the muddy path to the spot they had buried him. It was near his family home, where his mothers could visit frequently, where he was surrounded by the familiar forests.

She cried for a while, apologized, said she should have figured it out faster. He wished he could tell her it wasn’t her fault. She had tried so hard, she was just a child, she couldn’t always save everyone.

And then you’ll cry to our painted sky

‘I loved her then, I love her still’.

The others visited too, Logan quiet, reserved, emotionless. Patton ached for him. He had lost so much in his life. It wasn’t fair that Patton had taken this away from him too.

And you’ll strew some sage and lilies ,

Roman, his tears and anger burning as hot as his love once had. He still went out to the streets, despite Janus’s urging not to. His anger needed a way out. Patton was scared for him. He would let his rage burn him up over this grief.

And roses where I rot

And Janus, sweet, caring Janus. He kept the family together, somehow. Bottled his grief up somewhere deep and drew his lovers into his arms. He only dropped the mask at Patton’s grave, surrounded only by the evergreens and spring meadows. Let the grief consume him for just a moment, cried till the pain that had curled itself up in his bones drowned him in her violent throes. And then he got up, gathered himself and walked back to the car. Now that Patton wasn’t there anymore, someone had to keep the team alive. Patton was grateful to him.

Of all the flowers you picked,

Virgil came last, after months of the others coming and going. He barely glanced at the grave. Just sat down a few meters away and stared out at the trees.

“Why did you do that?” He asked the empty air, his voice filled with tears.

“Why did you leave us like that? It’s not fair. We were supposed to grow old together, get married.” His voice picked up in speed and volume, his breaths coming quicker.

“You said you were fine! You told me it was alright to place myself first, place our family first. Why couldn’t you do that? Why couldn’t you listen to your own damn advice and think of us for once?”

‘I wanted to, god, I wanted to’ Patton wanted to tell him. He wished he had left the building sooner, wished his death hadn’t been so meaningless. He saw the pain he put his family through. Maybe he didn’t fully see his own worth, but he saw how much he meant to them. He wished he hadn’t taken so much from them.

I knew you would forget

Forget-me-nots.

[jiminscalicokitten]

Graceful (One-Shot)

Pairing:  Reader / Jimin

Genre: nobody!reader, dance major!jimin college!au 

Summary: Getting your ass dragged by your best friend to a party that you really didn’t want to go to has it’s perks. Getting to know the graceful dancing king Jimin in ways you didn’t expect.

Rating: 18+ (If the warnings trigger you please don’t read.)

Warnings: swearing, oral (both receiving), fingering, squirting, overstimulation, sobbing, penetrative sex,  dom!sub undertones, dom!jimin, sub!reader,  rough sex, aftercare.

Word Count: 2.1k

Notes: I tried writing a different style than mine! I hope you enjoy! Giving you a little something as you wait for part two of the Tae series. 

You regret accepting Tae’s invitation to this party. The music pounding straight to your brain. You look for Tae around the room. It’s extremely dim in here but you manage to spot swapping saliva with his boyfriend Kook. You sigh. Should you just leave? He was supposed to hang out with you, but there was a change of plans obliviously. 

You sit on the red couch in the middle of the living room, thoughts of waiting for Tae overwhelm you. Next to you, a couple sits arms rubbing each other aggressively as they start making out. What the hell is this party? Just a huge orgy. You sigh getting up off the couch, you walk to the kitchen in hopes to find something to quench your thirst. Pouring yourself a glass of water, you choke once you spot him. 

His dirty blonde hair looks so fluffy that you want to touch it so bad. He’s wearing a black loose fitted shirt, and a pair of black jeans. Seeing his collarbone you feel yourself getting wet. 

Jimin has been a part of your life for a long time. Oh no! You haven’t really spoken to him before, more like watched him from a distance. If he talks to you might just combust and fall apart. That effect doesn’t apply to only you, every girl in college feels that way. 

He’s perfect. As simple as a man can be he’s perfect. He’s the captain of the modern dance club. The first place you saw him was in his course performance, he was a sophomore and you were a junior. 

His moves were so graceful yet so sultry. At that moment you thought about how you’ve never seen someone so artistically pleasing. He has the talent to make any song his with his moves. The way his finger tips would caress his cheeks after he’d spin as flies across the stage got your cheeks in flames. 

Snapping back from the memory of his greatness, you realize that you’re still choking. On water. On water! You turn around not wanting him to see you dying in the corner, nothing would be more embarrassing for a nobody like yourself. 

Sipping on water hoping that it would lessen the torture, you’re wrong. You feel your esophagus constricts. Your coughs get louder. Dropping the glass, it shatters causing Jimin and whoever he was talking with to look at your bent figure choking.   

The embarrassment erupts through your body as you feel tears run down your cheeks. Jimin heads towards you, he taps against your back a few times and you gasp for air. 

Slowly slipping to the floor he catches you in his delicate arms. “You’ll hurt yourself with the glass.” His voice is as gentle as his grasp. You close your eyes attempting to level your breathing without coughing again. 

You’re still in his arms. You’re sure he feels your heart beating, your inhales and exhales as the scratchy feeling in your throat is leaving. “What did you drink?” He asks in a worried tone. “Water.” Your voice is almost non existent. You're not sure if it’s the coughing or the embarrassment at this point. 

His arms still holding your waist he leads you out of the kitchen into the hallway. Heading away from the living room into one of the rooms. You look at his face confused. Your cheeks go red once you notice how his lashes flutter against his cheek and how his lips pout in thought. 

“Where are we going?” You ask. He opens the door into a cute gray and gold themed bedroom. “My room.” He smiles as he helps you sit on his bed. The sheets are so soft to the touch that you just lay your back against the bed with a sigh. 

“You’re throwing this party?” You almost sound as if you're in disbelief. “No. My roommate is. Why? I don’t seem the type to throw parties?” He lifts his brow in amusement. 

“It’s not that… It’s just- Never mind.” You just don’t want him to know that you observe him like a creep when you see him. It’s not like you follow him but you still watch him when you can.

“What? Tell me? What do you assume about me Y/N?” He says his hand landing on your thigh. “How do you know my name?” Your eyes are about to fall out of your sockets. 

“You’re Jungkook’s boyfriend’s friend. I think? I’ve seen you hang out with them a couple of times.” He’s grin makes him look so innocent. Surprise takes over you when you realize. He’s noticed you, kinda? 

“You’re social, but you seem to like your alone time. You recharge like that. Maybe?” Your voice is timid. “You’re right. How did you know?” His hand moves up your thigh. 

“I’ve seen you sit by the tree near the college business building. Most of its students are too busy to sit outside, so it’s usually empty.” Eyes wondering to where his hand is laid.

“I am sorry for assu-” Your words get cut off by his lips. They feel soft against yours. You think he’d pull away, but his right knee places itself in between your thighs as he deepens the kiss. His hand cups your cheeks. 

“Sorry. I didn’t ask first-” You place your arm around the back of his neck pulling him back to kiss you. Your tongue fights for dominance to enter his mouth and he lets you with a soft moan, that causes the wetness between your legs to gush. 

“Would you strip for me babe?” He pulls himself off of your figure, at this point you’d do anything for the ethereal man that stands in front of you. You stand up pulling your gray T-shirt over your head. Your cheeks heat up realizing that you’re actually going to do this. 

Taking off your pants you stumble falling on your ass. You cover your face in embarrassment, waiting for him to laugh. “Damn you’re gorgeous.” He groans helping you up. “Take off the rest.” His voice becomes stern. 

You stood completely exposed, naked, vulnerable, and bare before his fully clothed figure. He gestures for you to come near him, he sits on the bed as his hand reaches for your right breast. 

“Goddamn.” He moans peppering kisses on your left breast as he squeezes the other. You feel a shiver rushing up your spine as he does so. His perfectly lush lips envelope your nipple, you release a moan. 

You can’t believe that it’s happening. The man that you admire from far is this close to you. Your hand lays on his fluffy hair for the first time. You close your fingers around locks of his hair and you tug against it causing him to moan against your tit. You stutter a groan feeling wetness travel down your thigh. 

His hand travels down your chest to your waist. He fingers squeeze your hip roughly as he suddenly gets up. He throws your body roughly against his bed. You feel a surprise to the change in his aura. 

He looks like a beast that’s about to eat you. hooking his arms under your legs to drag you forward. You moan at the feeling of him licking a stripe up your slit.

He laps at your juices, and your fingers grab onto his soft locks pulling them, gaining a groan from his lips, spreading your legs wider as he attaches his lips to your clit.  

He starts sucking tenderly, and you groan his name at the sensation of him slipping three digits inside of you, causing a squelch. You arch your back as he begins pumping them into you, curling them into your g-spot.

“Fuck, Jimin I am about to-,” you say. He groans against you, and you squeeze your thighs around his head of fluffy hair. All the pressure on his head makes him release a tune of sultry moans against your clit. You feel the vibrations go throughout you, and you throw your head back. 

Squirting against his face you expect him to stop. His fingers get rougher on your pussy and his sucking gets harder. Overstimulation takes over and you try to push him off of you. 

 He pulls away with a giggle, almost like he accomplished something no one ever has. Honestly, that’s not that far from the truth. No man you’ve slept with made you receive this feeling of ecstasy.  

He removes his top allowing you to feel his chest against your fingertips. You both stand up, he attempts to take off his pants, you start sucking hickies into his neck. “Wait. Stop. It tickles.” He giggles holding your waist with one hand as the other is unbuttoning his pants. 

The moment his pants are off, you pull his figure on top of yours as you lay against his sheets, lips still on his neck. His hands suddenly grab the back of your thigh pushing them up. You don’t think you're flexible enough for his second move. He places your knees on his shoulder, taking his girth in his hand to run along your folds. 

You shiver at the sensation as he teases you, and your clit’s throbbing and sensitive from when he ate you out earlier. “Do you want more? Little slut. Your juices are staining my bed.” He groans. You raised your hips trying to lure him. “I’m all yours to use.”

He cursed under his breath, grabbing your thighs to pull them apart, thrusting into you. You yelp, squeezing around his dick as both of you groan, hissing at the sensation. “You’re so tight,”  Jimin groans. “Oh, f-fuck.” 

“Use me, I’m all yours ” you urge, squeezing around his dick. “Fuck, You’re made for me.” 

You feel him growl against the curvature of your neck as he snaps and twists his hips against yours, making you cling to him as he begins fucking into you. “I fucking own you slut. I am going to destroy you.” he hisses, a grunt and thrust at each syllable. 

“Fuck.” you say, throwing your head back. True to his word, he was fucking into you so hard that the rocking bed was beginning to squeak at his movements. Tears start falling against your cheeks as you feel yourself reaching your high for the second time. 

“Jimin. Sto- stop, it hurts.” You try prying him off of you once you orgasm. “I thought you’re mine to use.” His thrusting slows yet deepens. “I can’t take it.” You sob. 

He pulls out, you expect him to lay next to you but he begins rubbing against your clit. You scream at the overstimulation. You squirt one final time with sobs erupting in the room.  

“Sorry. I am sorry, don't cry.” He wraps his arms around your lying figure. “No. It felt good.” You accept his embrace. “But what about you? You didn’t finish.” You hiccup. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He kisses your forehead then your lips. You unhurriedly get up feeling an ache in between your legs. You move down between his legs. “What are you doing?” He moves your hair out of your face. “I’m gonna try giving you a pinch of the feeling you gave me.” You wrap your hand around his length. 

After stroking him a few times you wrap your lips around his pretty cock. You haven’t really seen it this up close until now. And god how good it looks. Allowing your tongue to lick the underneath of his girth he releases a hiss. He suddenly moves you to sit on the floor as he begins bucking into your mouth. His arm covers his eyes as he hisses at the feeling of you hollowing your cheeks.

You feel a rush of relief once he holds onto your face, swallowing around him you release a moan. He rolls his neck, giving you a raw, animalistic look as he fucks his hips up into your mouth, his hand curling into your hair tightly. His breath becomes ragged as you feel him growing in your mouth. 

Your nose burying into his pelvis, as he pushes one last time you squeeze your eyes shut, eyes glistening with tears, his load running down your throat as you swallow around him. He pulls out of your lips with a loud pop.

 He helps you into the bed next to him. Your nose lays on his neck as you inhale his scent. “What just happened?” You’re in disbelief that you just did that with the man of your dreams. “Why did you kiss me?” You look at his face. 

 “That’s what you want to ask?” He chuckles as he covers your bodies with the blanket. “You’re really cute and I wanted to tap that.” He spanks your ass. “Sorry if I went too hard.” He kissed your cheeks. 

“No. You’re graceful on stage and in bed.” You kiss his cheek. 

(© 2020 jiminscalicokitten, All Rights Reserved)

[hailbop1701]

25 Days of Ficmas

December 16th prompt: "It's fucking freezing!"

Word count: 4,062

Ripper's Gifts

Warning: Blood and gore are ahead! Please of that makes you uncomfortable skip this one. Might be triggering!

Hi everyone! So this one went pretty damn dark pretty damn fast! I blame @thottiewithashotgun! So this content might not be suitable for all viewers! Reader!Whump and Angsty!Kennex Lemme know how I did!

-H❤🖖

Detective John Kennex chuckled amused at the face you were making across the street. You had a deep scowl and your arms were firmly crossed over your chest. “Come on (Y/N) you have to be seductive,” he said into the comms. You full-on glared in his general direction, “It’s fucking freezing! I don’t see you out here in a short tight dress!” you growled. John snickered again, “yeah well the guy we’re after has a type and I’m not it,” he said a clear smile in his voice. You huffed and leaned back against the bar you were situated in front of. You pulled a pack of cigarettes from your clutch bag and put one in between your red-painted lips, Dorian furrowed his brows. “Since when do you smoke?” he asked mildly concerned; you smirked, “I don’t. But I refuse to look like this standing out on the sidewalk,” you mumbled lighting the cigarette expertly. Noticing the heavy silence you rolled your eyes, “let’s just say I was rebellious in high school,” 

John chuckled, “I don’t think that has changed much (Y/N),” you narrowed your eyes and discreetly flipped him off. John’s laughter grew louder, “Target sighted,” Dorian broke in leaning forward. A man pulled up in an old van that really shouldn’t be street legal, he pulled on a hood and hopped out of the driver's seat. He whistled twirling a set of keys around his finger, face covered he ducked around the car to where you were standing. “Damnit I can’t see them,” John muttered straining to see over the windowless van. “Can anyone get a visual?” he asked into the comms. There were multiple negatives; Kennex looked over at Dorian who was staring off into space trying to find any CCTV footage of the bar. That’s when everything went dark, Dorian sagged in his seat and John’s leg felt heavier than it should. John shoved open his door, he watched as SWAT surged forward. They rounded the van and it was completely silent for a moment before the SWAT commander walked back towards him shaking his head. “Fuck!” he shouted punching his steering wheel repeatedly. The commander looked elsewhere awkwardly, “Detective, the EMP affected half the city we need to get back to the PD,” he said after a minute of Kennex’s seething. Taking a deep breath John nodded and started his car, “I’ll meet you there,” he muttered slamming his door shut. 

The PD was a flurry of activity, Dorian-who revived in the middle of the trip back- help John to his desk. Rudy rushed over to him with a tool bag in his hand, “What happened?” Maldanado snapped striding over to him. John gritted his teeth, “Guy knew it was a setup,” he hissed rolling up his pant leg so Rudy could do his thing. The Captain’s eyes flashed, “He set off a major EMP! Half the city is in the dark!” she practically shouted making John’s temper flare. “He also has (Y/N)! He had an exit strategy,” he snarled, the Captain gave him a warning look before her eyes softened. She knew John may or may not have some feelings for you. “We’ll find her John but until the power comes back on we’re flying literally in the dark,” she said in a calming tone. Kennex deflated, his thoughts immediately went to the case file and the autopsies of the girls that had been found. Dorian placed a hand on his partner and friend's shoulder, “We’ll find her John,” he reassured. John glanced down at Rudy who had lifted his leg onto a chair; the skittish man was mumbling to himself as he unscrewed a little panel from the prosthetic. “Will I live?” Kennex asked dryly. Rudy’s head snapped up his glasses crooked slightly, “It should be fine, I just need to fix a few little things and then you’ll be good to go,” he said waving a tiny screwdriver around. John sighed and leaned back in his chair a tension headache brewing over his eyes. He didn’t want to think about what could be happening to you. 

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It felt like your head was full of cotton and a subtle pain in your shoulders and wrists made you groan. “I’m hanging like a piece of meat. That’s great, just great,” you muttered sourly; opening your eyes you saw that you were in what looked to be a basement. “Great, a dungeon. The guy has a dungeon,” you grumped a scowl forming on your lips. Something shifted in the shadows of the basement, leaning forward as far as the chains on the wall allowed, you squinted your eyes hoping to get a better look. Suddenly a feral dog jumped into the light snarling and snapping his jaws at you, white foam fell from his mouth. A spiked collar and chain kept him secured to the wall. The large animal growled and barked trying to break free of his restraints; you quickly leaned back hoping to keep as far away from the hound as possible, “Good doggy…” you gulped. The sound of old fashioned locks clicked and the basement door opened with a loud screech. Wincing at the sound you tensed as the man slowly stomped down the stairs, “I see you’ve met Baxter. Seems like he’s excited to see you,” he chuckled. Your stomach churned your mind flashing back to the case file and how the bodies were mauled by a large animal. “Oh he’s...charming,” you mumbled eyes flitting back and forth between the killer and his pet hellhound. The man strode across the room so he could stand in front of you, he reached out and gripped your chin tightly turning your head left and right multiple times. He was examining you. He hummed in approval, “Such a beautiful specimen,” he purred, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You gritted your teeth and tried to yank your head from his grip, he growled and grabbed your throat angrily slamming your head back into the concrete wall. Choking on a pained cry you glared at the serial killer, “Now be a good girl,” he scolded with a cluck of his tongue. When you kept silent he let go of your throat, hissing you glared at the bastard “They’ll find me,” you growled. The killer chuckled, “I think they’ll be too busy to find you, but don’t you worry. They’ll see you soon,” 

The statement sent shivers down your spine, the underline promise in it made you feel a little sick. Taking a shuddering breath you watched as he rummaged through a box of items; he pulled out what he needed and gently placed them in neat rows on what looked to be a surgical tray. Consistent with what you John learned, the man was medically trained. He would dissect and cut away his victims, they also found many dog bites littering the remains. Glorified meat puzzles. He looked up at you with an excited gleam in his eyes, “I know I have a method to my madness but you, my dear are very special! You get something a little different today,” he said and started to hum Christmas music under his breath. Going to the large metal table in the center of the room killer the media happily dubbed “The Ripper,” (after the original Jack the Ripper) turned on an overhead light. Blinking your eyes at the sudden assault to the senses you swallowed back bile. The floor and the table were covered in old dried blood, Ripper hummed joyously setting up a camera on a tripod so it could capture the table perfectly. He checked his watch smiling at the time. “Well my dear, it looks like it’s time!” He cheered with a loud clap. Baxter growled in his corner at the sudden loud noise, you struggled causing the chains to clatter against the walls. Ripper seemed to enjoy your fear; he slowly strolled over to you dancing and shuffling to the music he put on. Pulling a gun from the back of his pants Ripper held it pointed at you as unshackled your wrists. Your arms fell limply to your side, a pained groan fell from your lips making Ripper smiled cheekily. He placed his free hand over the back of your neck giving it a non-to-gentle squeeze. Hissing he lead you over to the bloody table; he waved his gun gesturing for you to climb on. Glaring you stood your ground refusing anything else he asked. Rolling his eyes he pulled the pistol back and whipped it across your face, yelping you crumbled toward the ground only to be caught by Ripper. “Now that’s better!” soothed as he placed you on the table with your hands back over your head, much to your bitter annoyance. Blearily you tried to fight him but he was stronger than he looked; Ripper pulled leather restraints across your chest, wrists, hips, and ankles. Tightening them so the only thing you could really move was your wrists he checked his watch again. He bellowed the rest of his song as he walked around the table to the camera, “There, now I’m sure you’re wondering what this was all about!” Ripper said walking back to your side, you realized with a jolt that he wasn’t talking to you. The red light blinked indicating that he was broadcasting to someone, ‘oh my god,’ you thought panicking. Your chest became tight and you became dizzy; Ripper smirked running a finger across your cheek, “You see I don’t like to be tricked. I don’t like the constant stupidity from you-” he searched for the word he wanted to use twisting his hand in a circular motion. “ trash heaps,” he concluded proudly. “The world will be better with the work I’m doing!” he screamed over the cheerful sound of Winter Wonderland as it played in the background. 

Ripper picked up a syringe off of the surgical tray, pushing the plunger a stream of cloudy liquid streamed out. When he felt the dosage was right Ripper placed the needle to your neck. You tried to turn your head in so he could get a clear shot but he simply placed a hand on your forehead and slammed your painfully to the side. You felt the prick of the needle and the mysterious liquid enter your veins. It felt cold going through your body like ice was forming in your blood; the sensation was short-lived. A burning fire replaced the ice, every nerve was twitching painfully and you could help the pained shriek escape your lips. 

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Kennex’s stomach dropped as he and the others in the precinct watched as The Ripper injected an unknown compound into your blood. Your eyes were glassy and sweat rolled off of your forehead. You were gasping for air and shaking like a leaf, “As you can see I managed to perfect my serum! Every nerve ending in detective (Y/L/N)’s body is now extremely sensitive to touch. So if I do this…” he spoke like he was giving a lecture on the best ways to torture someone. Ripper took a dull blade from the tray next to him and dug it into your arm and slowly dragged it upward. A deep bloody gash ran from the crook of your elbow to your shoulder blade; the sound of your pained screams made John grip the back of his chair tightly. Valerie Stahl covered her mouth as Ripper plunged the knife into the opposite shoulder. Many of the people in the room turned their eyes away, “Dorian,” John’s voice was clipped. The android had been working to track the location ever since the footage started broadcasting. “I’m working on it!” the DRN said frantically eyes swinging back and forth like he was reading at an extremely fast pace. Rudy was tapping quickly at John’s computer only looking up occasionally at the screen, sweat beading at his temples. “Faster damnit!” 

Your screams and shrieks of pain were getting more and more frequent. Blood covered your face as Ripper made shallow scratches and cuts to it. Dorian’s head snapped up, “I got him!” he said and cocked his head to the side a surprised expression crossed his face. “He’s seven blocks from here!” he gasped looking at his partner. “Cocky bastard!” detective Paul said from the other side of the bullpen. Kennex grabbed his gun from his desk drawer, loading it he shoved it into his holster. Moving quickly towards the exit John stopped when your screaming tapered off. Twisting around to look at the screen he saw you panting heavily, your chest heaved up and down. Tears fell from your eyes, Ripper gently brushed them away cooing at you. “You have a lovely singing voice,” he complimented as Silent Night played lowly in the background. “I would love to hear more,” 

Stahl screeched and turned around covering her eyes. Ripper slammed a cleaver down on your arm just below your elbow effectively cutting off your arm. Your screams would echo through John’s skull for the next several months. The video cut off and Kennex was flying out the door with several MX’s and police behind him. “Calling EMS!” Dorian called as they raced to the car. 

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You felt so cold; like you would never be able to get warm again type of cold. You heard your name being called but you couldn’t tell who needed you, their voice was so far away. You were underwater, so deep under you almost couldn’t feel the pain anymore. “(Y/N) stay with me, sweetheart,” the voice begged. There was muffled shouting a very distant screaming, “don’t worry (Y/N) I got you,” ‘Dorian?’ you thought dreamily. The figure above you swam in and out of focus, the darkness of the water crept in. You fought it off as long as you could but it won in the end, you felt yourself get lowered and a warm hand cupped your cheek. “John what did you do?” ‘John? Why is Dorian mad?’ you questioned as you faded into the abyss. 

The next time you floated to the surface you heard hushed voices and a hand in yours. It didn’t last long but you no longer felt oppressed or in pain. The weight on your chest has lifted and you drifted away knowing that you were truly safe. Time passed and Christmas was long over, springtime rolled around with little fanfare. The first thing that came back was your sense of touch, it was warm and the surfacing you were lying on was as stiff as an autopsy table. Your heart rate picked up; ‘I can’t be back there!’ your thoughts suddenly screamed. Your hearing flared to life, there was a loud scrape of a chair sliding across the floor. Frantic beeping filled the air, panic settled in your gut. The sound of rushing footsteps caused you to peel your eyes open, “Detective (Y/L/N), can you hear me? You’re in the hospital, everything is alright!” a commanding yet soothing tone broke through your panic. Choking you searched for the voice, a man in a white doctor’s coat stood above you gesturing for a nurse to get on your other side. He unhooked a few things from the thing that was going down your throat, eyes wide you saw Dorian and Valerie Stahl standing anxiously at the foot of your hospital bed. “(Y/N) I need you to cough for me on the count of three,” the doctor said gently his hands on the tube. He counted and you did as you were told and coughed as hard as you could. He swiftly slid the tube from your throat and set it aside on a tray. Introducing himself as doctor Greene he pulled an object from his coat pocket, coughing and gagging you turned your head away from the man as he ran a penlight over your eyes. He was patient with you as you fought him, “I- what-” you stuttered voice horse; a nurse glided over to you holding a pink plastic cup of ice chips. “You’ve been in a medically induced coma for the past five months. The mystery compound you were injected with took a toll on your body,” Doctor Greene hesitated for a second, clearing his throat he looked down at the floor. A pit formed in your stomach, “I’m afraid to tell you that we did everything we could but we couldn’t save your arm. The compound that was given to you had corrupted the tissue and caused a severe infection.” cold dread filled your body and the doctor’s words rang in your ears. You sat frozen for the longest time, you didn’t even notice that the medical staff had left you alone with your friends until Dorian gently took the hand that was still there and sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s okay. I promise it will all be okay,” Dorian whispered to you as the tears silently fell. Valerie stood on your other side and started running a hand through your hair, “where’s John?” you asked meekly taking notice that he wasn’t there. You wanted him to tell you that everything would be okay and that you’ll walk away from all this better than before, but he was nowhere in sight. Dorian and Valerie looked at each other holding a silent conversation, “I’ll get you some more ice,” Stahl whispered and placed a kiss on your forehead. She left you and Dorian alone, “Dorian…” you whispered eyes wide fearing the worst. Dorian looked down at your attached hands, “John is working, he uh he has been very busy,” he said voice hard. Your brows furrowed, “I-he didn’t,” you whispered your heart cracking at the revelation. The android leaned down and hugged you gently, “I’m sorry (Y/N),” he whispered. He held you until your tears dried; with the promise to visit the next day with Rudy Dorian left you in Valerie Stahl’s care. 

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You had been awake for a few weeks and everyone had come to see you at one point or another. Some more than once; well all but one. Dorian was none too happy, he had to watch as you deflated every time someone who wasn’t John came walking through your hospital room door. Things were already hard for you and that fact that someone you cared about couldn’t be bothered. So that night after his visit with you Dorian stormed up to John Kennex’s apartment. Ringing the bell repeatedly until the door flew open; John stood there a bottle of jack in his hand and a deep look of irritation on his face. Dorian shoved past him with a, “you look like shit,” John scoffed taking a swig of the almost empty bottle. “Come right in,” he muttered dryly slamming the door shut. Turning John glared at his partner, “what do you want Dorian?” he asked taking another drink. It was Dorian’s turn to scowl, he snatched the bottle from John’s hands and tossed it right into the trash. The glass shattered with finality, “Dorian!” John shouted outraged, he surged forward but stumbled into the kitchen counter. Blinking the drunken dizziness John glared up at his friend, “You have been an ass these past few months. But now you’re officially a drunken ass,” Dorian said eyes piercing. Kennex scoffed again, “she doesn’t need me. Worse when I’m around anyway,” he said easily figuring out what the DRN was talking about. 

Dorian laughed humorously, “get your head out of your ass John it isn’t about you at all! It’s about (Y/N), she was tortured and was in a coma. She lost a part of herself, and I thought you’d be able to help her through it! She’s hurt and confused about why one of her closest friends isn’t there!” he started shouting. John flinched like he’d been slapped, “I know!” he ended up shouting back. “I fucking know! I’m sorry, okay?” Dorian’s fists clenched at his sides, “I’m not the one you need to say sorry to,” he said darkly. Kennex leaned back against the glass that leads to his bedroom and slid down to the floor a deep sadness in his eyes. Dorian took an unneeded deep breath, “John you gotta know that it wasn’t your fault man, none of it was,” he said in a gentler tone crouching next to his friend. It was John’s turn to laugh humorously, “I should have been standing nearby or-” he choked and looked away. “She’s alive and the Ripper is dead. You made sure of that,” Dorian reminded placing a grounding hand on Kennex’s shoulder. “You need to go see her man, it’s tearing both of you up,” 

Taking a deep shuddering breath John staggered to his feet, “I uh mean like tomorrow,” Dorian murmured watching as John grabbed his jacket and keys, “you’re driving,” was all the drunken man said tossing the keys to his partner. Shaking his head Dorian followed the man out of his apartment, “We’re stopping to get you some coffee, and maybe a breath mint. Hose you down in the parking lot,” he muttered quietly. 

An hour- two cups of coffee, and some deodorant later John stood in the doorway of your hospital room. Your chest rose and fell steadily as you slept; you looked peaceful and he immediately regretted coming at such a late hour. He felt Dorian nudge him forward into the room and heard the door gently close, looking out the window he saw the android talk to the nurses on duty casually. They were glancing over at the closed door with knowing smiles, “Looks like I’ve been a topic of conversation,” John sighed. Looking back over at your sleeping form John shuffled over and sat in the chair by your bedside. He bit his lip when he saw your prosthetic arm draped over your stomach; taking the hand closest to him John gave it a gentle squeeze, “I am so sorry,” he whispered rubbing his eyes with his fingers. “I have been the worst friend on the entire planet and you should honestly kick my ass,” 

“You’re right, I should kick your ass,” your voice made him jump; looking down he saw that you were giving him a glare. “I’m too tired to kick your ass or even to yell at you,” you said eyes dull and sad. It made Kennex’s stomach clench, “(Y/N) I deserve whatever you decide to do to me, I just-” he cut himself off looking anywhere but your eyes. John gritted his teeth as you waited for what he had to say, “I was afraid.” he whispered finally looking back at you. Sighing you sat up so he knew he had your undivided attention. John cleared his throat, “I was afraid that coming to see you would make it all real, and it-it brought back some things that I didn’t want back. So I ran-metaphorically,” your eyes softened understanding his reasons, “I’m still mad but I forgive you,” you said after a minute. John’s shoulders sagged with relief, his head dropping to the bed by your thigh. “You’re important to me John, I just wish I was important enough to you so you could talk to me,” you whispered sadly running a hand through his hair. Your hand dropped when he snapped his head up, “You’re important to me (Y/N) I just-I’m shit when it comes to-” he gestured wildly, “all of this,” 

You laughed quietly, “I promise to never disappear on you again. Expect me to be annoying now, cause I’ll be hovering,” John said with a crooked smile. The smile you gave him in return made his heart skip a beat, “you’re going to be insufferable, I just know it,” you chuckled ruefully. John winked, “of course, I wouldn’t be me if I made things easy,” he squeezed your hand again. “John, can you do something for me?” you asked biting your lip. He perked up, “anything,” he said and you shivered. “Can you get me another blanket? It’s fucking freezing in here,” John was out the door and at the nurse’s station before you could blink. “Oh boy,” you laughed nervously as you watched the man take the offered blanket and rush back to your door. 

To be continued…? 

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[jawritter]

You and Me...

Chapter 6

***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, non-con, male!rape, injury, violence, description of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self-harm, panic attacks, implied female non-con, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!Jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.

***Chapter Warnings*** VERY BIG TRIGGER WARNING!! This chapter contains descriptions of injuries and heavy implications of Male Rape! Please know I don’t take this sort of thing lightly, and I was gentle as possible in the descriptions and implications as I could be, but still getting the story across as well!! Hints of mental disturbance, language probably, kidnapping, Angst, overall this one is pretty heavy.

Word Count: 2790

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jared x Reader, OFC Justin X Reader, OFC Steve x Reader

A/N: Anyway, all mistakes are mine, please don’t copy my work, Feedback is golden. If you want to be added to the series tag list, or my tag list just let me know! I hope you enjoy this one. After this chapter things tend to start to pick up a little.

Summary: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter your course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getting through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***

It had been three days since Jensen had been to the studio. 

Steve had tried calling him but got no answer. Steve was starting to get worried, therefore he was making sure everyone in the office was on edge because that was just Steve. 

"Maybe he changed his mind," you mumble, looking through the recordings that had already been done, and checking to make sure all the copyrights for the songs he wanted to do were sent off, and ready just in case he did decide to show back up.

"He can't change his mind! He's under contract to finish this album here in this studio," Steve gritted out, going through Jensen's paperwork looking for another contact to try. 

"Damn Steve, you put that shit on lock didn't you?" Justin said, spinning his chair in circles like an overgrown kid, not really concerned as to whether or not Jensen showed back up. He didn’t seem to like Jensen all that much anyway.

Steve turned to give him his best bitchface. "This album could put our studio on the map,"  he said coldly. “We need this guy to finish this album.”

Then something dawns on you, something you had totally forgotten about. You had Misha's number. 

You were going to send him a donation to his charity, and while he was here he gave it to you so that he could text you the address to send the money in to. 

"I have Misha's number, try him, maybe he knows a way to contact him," you glancing over your shoulder, and Steve looks at you like he wants to kill you for waiting until now to let that little piece of information out. 

Pulling out your phone and text him the phone number, and as soon as his phone buzzed with the number he was calling it, walking into the office, and leaving you and Justin to sit in silence on the other side of the door, listening to see if you could hear something. All the two of you seemed to make out was a muffled conversation that honestly sounded like it was very one-sided, with Misha doing the majority of the talking.

After about 15 minutes Steve walked back into the main recording room pale, and a little nauseated, flopping down in the chair next to you. 

"What I'm about to tell you guys doesn't leave this room," Steve said, looking between Justin and yourself. Your heart jumped speed. You didn't like the way he said that. 

"Three days ago Jensen was forcibly taken from Jared's bar when he was helping a bartender close up. They just found him today. He's at St. David's South Austin Medical Center," Steve looked down at the ground, and then back up at you two like he was unsure whether or not to tell you both the rest of the story. 

"Is he okay?" you asked. 

You weren’t exactly sure why your heart fell to your feet. Your hand ideally ran across the hand he touched just a few days ago taking his coffee from you.

"Was it some crazy super fan?" Justin asked, looking at Steve like he was bullshitting the two of you. 

Steve turned a little greener. 

"No, it wasn't a fan apparently,” Steve took a deep breath in order to settle himself.  

“Jensen and Jennifer hooked up a little over a week ago. Apparently, things didn’t go exactly the way she’d hoped, so when she got home she told her brother that Jensen had raped her. He and a few of his buddies took Jensen, and for three days kept him locked in a hotel... Returning the favor," Steve stopped talking, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes tight. Taking a deep breath to stave off the urge to throw up, or scream because he felt like doing both.

You fought to keep your breakfast down. The room seemed to be spinning. Your heart broke for him. Why you didn't know. What the hell? Why do you care so much? He was nothing but a complete and total ass to you! He hated you! Still, you couldn’t shake the gut-wrenching feeling deep down inside of you no matter how hard you tried to.

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Later that night you paced around your apartment with Steve's words ringing in your head. You couldn't imagine what Jensen had gone through over the past three days. It made you sick to your stomach every time you thought about it. 

Grabbing your purse you decide, probably against your better judgment, to head to the hospital. You had to see him. You didn't understand why, you had to see that he was okay. 

So now you found yourself walking through the halls of the hospital looking for a nurse to ask which room they were keeping Jensen in. Holding your studio ID tight in your hand, hoping it was enough for them to let you into his room. This late at night you would think there would be more nurses roaming the halls, but things were still and quiet, not much movement at all.

You were just about to give up. You had just about walked the whole hospital, and no one seemed to know where he was. Making your way back to the second-floor elevators you pressed the button impatiently, wondering if maybe they moved him to a different hospital, or if he just asked people to not come to visit him right now, so they were keeping his location a secret or something. 

It was stupid to come here in the first place. Jensen hated your guts. He wouldn't want to see you, so why the hell were you even here? That’s what your brain was screaming at you, and you had just about resided to the fact that it was right, and you were being an idiot by coming here.

Annoyed that the elevator was taking so long to open you were about to turn to take the stairs when you heard the familiar ding of the doors opening. Looking up you come face to... well... mid-chest... with Jared. 

"Y/N!" Jared said, wrapping you in a bone-crushing hug. He looked exhausted. The amount of puffiness and redness around his eyes told you he had been crying. "What are you doing here?" he asked, surprised to see you standing there. 

"Misha told us what happened. I came to see Jensen, but I can't find his room. No one seems to know where he is, or at least they don't want to tell me," you tell him, embarrassed that you even came you stared down at your feet.

Jared draped a long arm around your shoulders turning you around and headed toward the end of the hallway with you, stopping in front of room 241 he turned to face you. 

"Y/N, I want to tell you what you're going to see in there. It's not pretty." 

You took a deep breath. Why the hell were you all in your feels right now?

"What did they do to him, Jared?" you asked, almost afraid of the answer. Jared swallowed hard, looking like he was about to start crying again. 

"They jumped him in my bar while he was waiting on the new guy I hired to close up. They tied him up, knocked him out, and dragged him out of the bar. The rest we are guessing. He hasn't said a word since the ambulance driver picked him up on the side of the road where they dumped him when they were done with him. According to the doctors, it looks like he was tied down to something, then was repeatedly violated. That’s all we know, and he’s not telling." 

You held the vomit back that threatened in the back of your throat. Both you and Jared shivered involuntarily.

"When I first saw him he was covered in blood, and what looked like vomit. They had to sedate him to clean it all off of him and do the examination. Every time someone touches him he freaks out. They couldn't even get him as clean as they wanted because he was fighting so hard. From what I understand they cut the twist ties off of his wrist in the ambulance. They said he was just dumped completely naked, and still tied. Some dick truck driver saw him, and called the ambulance, but didn’t have the decency to stop and help him. Just kept on driving.”

Jared watched as you tried to compose yourself, the flood of emotions that were hitting you as he told you how he was found was more than you thought it would be for you. 

"You sure you wanna go in there?" he asked you when you finally could breathe properly.”I get it if you don’t.”  

"Yeah. I need to see him." 

Jared never questioned, he just shook his head and opened the door. 

At first, you didn't even see him lying in the bed. It just looked like a heap of covers in the middle of the bed. Moving around the bed you finally found the top of his head. 

He was laying on his side with his back to the door, the covers pulled all the way up almost over his head. 

"Jay...  Y/N's here to see you," Jared said, walking around the bed first. 

The heap of cover never moved. Jared looked at you apologetically. 

You slowly made your way around the bed, afraid of what you were going to see. He looked so fragile lying there in that bed with monitor, wires and different IV's coming out from under the cover. There wasn't a lot of bruise on his face. Especially around his mouth. It was bruised all the way around his lips to almost his left ear. His lips were swollen and cracked.  You shuddered at the thought of what might have caused that. 

The rest of him was well covered, but for a scratched up hand sticking out from under the cover by his face. 

It was his eyes that got to you the most. 

He never made eye contact with you or Jared. He just stared at the wall between the two of you blankly. No light there at all. No movement. A very evident “the light's are on, but no one is home” look. 

You couldn't stop the cascade tears that were falling down your face. They had broken something deep inside him, and you didn’t have to be a doctor to see it. 

"Physically the injuries aren't permanent. It's the mental damage the doctors are worried about," Jared said, sitting on the small sofa next to his friend's bed, watching him closely. 

Jensen just continued to look at the wall as if the two of you weren’t even in the room, and no one was talking about him less than three feet away from his bed. 

There was a picture of him and his kids by the bed, no doubt brought there by Jared. He was smiling in the photo. He looked so happy. So contradictory to the broken man laying there in front of you. The longer you stood there you felt like your heart shattered into a million pieces. 

Everything in you wanted to pick him up and just hold him until he was okay again, even though you knew that him being “okay” again wouldn’t ever be that easy.

"Did he really do what they say he did to Jennifer?" you turned and asked Jared, feeling like you were going to be sick again looking at the dirt and dried blood under his fingernails. 

You tried to keep your mind from wondering whether the blood was his, or his attackers. You weren’t very successful.

"I don't know, and I'm not trying to justify anything he may have done, but do you think he would have deserved this? I was there when he asked her to dinner with him. She was definitely more than willing to show up at his house wearing next to nothing." 

He was right of course. No one deserved what Jensen had been through. 

You sat down in the chair next to his bed. Jensen was still staring at the wall like he didn't even know the two of you were in there. Reflexively you reached for his hand, wanting to comfort him in some way, but he jerked it under the cover before you even got close, never making a sound. 

Even though he didn’t make a sound, he slowly looked up at you. Jared moved closer, not sure what he was going to do, but hoping that seeing you would pull him out of whatever mental cage he had enclosed himself in. 

He did nothing. He stared at you for maybe a whole minute. A single tear slipping down his face then looked back at the wall. The blank look never once leaving his eyes. 

Nurses came in checking the monitors while you and Jared sat next to Jensen talking, trying to avoid the subject of Jensen's injuries in front of him. Neither of you wanted to upset him. Jensen never moved, still just staring at the wall. 

Finally, looking up at the clock you saw that it was close to 1 in the morning. Rubbing your face in frustration because even though you knew it was late you didn't want to leave him. He had dozed on and off while the two of you sat there talking, but he seemed to be awake right then. The amount of drugs they were giving him to manage his pain level probably didn't help his current state either. Still, you couldn't imagine the physical pain he was in. You didn't even want to think about what was going on in his head. Still, it was late, and you needed to let Jared get some rest. 

"It's getting late, I need to let you rest. I'll come by tomorrow after work if that's okay," you tell Jared, reaching down to grabbing your purse. When you leaned down to grab your purse you had put your hand on the bed to brace yourself.  It was something you did without thinking. Just a natural movement.

So lightly you almost didn't notice it you feel a calloused hand lay softly on top of yours. Looking up you see Jensen had reached over and grabbed your hand. Both yourself and Jared held your breath. For the first time, Jensen slowly made full eye contact with you, and not like he was looking through you with the same blank look on his face. 

It was eerie and unnatural. Even though he was physically there, and probably knew vaguely where he was, he seemed to mentally be millions of miles away.

You went to take your hand away just to see what he would do, testing the waters kind of. When you did he tightened his grip on your hand, holding it in place. 

"Jay," Jared said, trying to get his friend to look at him. 

Jensen never spoke, but he did look at him with tears falling from his deep green eyes. It almost looked like he was on the edge of panic, but wasn’t quite mentally there enough to fall over that edge. 

"Are you in pain?" Jared asked. 

Jensen did nothing. 

"Do you not want Y/N to leave?" he asked Jensen again. 

Jensen did nothing, just stared back and forth between Jared and yourself. 

Closing his eyes he slipped back into his drug-induced sleep with a death grip still on your hand.

For just a moment you considered staying, you did stay for another hour, Jensen never moved again, just slept. Honestly, it's what his body needed. To rest. So you gently slipped your hand out of his, gave Jared a hug, and your number, telling him to call you if he needed anything, and made your way to the door, letting both men get some rest. 

When you finally got back to your car you sat there completely broken-hearted for the man lying in that hospital bed.

You hadn't realized it till right now. Seeing him so broken had brought it right in the front of your attention. 

You didn't hate him like you thought. 

You felt something else entirely. 

This changes things.

For you anyway. Jensen had a long road ahead of him. Last you knew he hated you. Starting your car you wiped away the tears that were still falling from your own eyes. Praying to whoever was listening that you didn't get your heartbroken and that he could recover from this.

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

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[idreamofplaid]

Fallen - Chapter 2

Summary: Sam thought he had found happiness, but now his past is back to haunt him. Lucifer has claimed the throne of heaven, and it is his intention that Sam should finally fulfill his destiny as King of Hell.

Characters: Sam x Reader; Dean; Ruby

Word Count: 2621

Warnings: Non Con; Heavy Angst

A/N: This is a series I started some time ago. It has become the first in a project I’ve taken on that I’m calling “Finish the Series”. Each chapter of this one is based on a song. The song for Chapter 2 is “Hallelujah” by Rufus Wainwright. 

I’ve heard there was a secret chord that David played, and it pleased the Lord

Reader’s POV

The pain you felt was sharp and stunning in its intensity. In this moment, the love you felt for Sam was tearing you apart. You put your hand over your still unchanged stomach and thought about the baby there, the baby you couldn’t feel yet but already loved. You carried a child that, for now, was yours alone.

You moved your fingers lightly over your abdomen trying hard to process what you had just seen. Could you ever forget how Sam looked with another woman’s hand down the front of his pants? Could you forget how he reacted to what she was doing to him?

A wave of nausea came over you; you sat down, leaned your back against a tree, and hoped it would pass.

Well it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift

Dean had been silent since Sam and Ruby first emerged from the barn. He had been so quiet, crouched next to you in your hiding place, you’d almost forgotten he was there until he held your hair back from your face when you got sick. It was a few minutes before you sat back against the tree again. Dean pulled a black and white bandana from his back pocket and handed it to you. It felt soft and worn in your hand as you gingerly blotted your mouth with it. When you were done, Dean reached in another pocket and pulled out a wrapped peppermint. He held it out to you.

The plastic crinkled in your fingers when you took the little piece of candy. “Do you always carry these?”

“No. Mint settles your stomach. Thought it might help. Your morning sickness has been pretty bad.”

You opened the mint and slipped it into your mouth. The clean sweetness of the candy was welcome on your tongue. “How do you know what mint does, Dean?”

“Researching ingredients for spells, you learn a lot of things.” Dean worked his bottom lip. “Y/N, I know that looked bad. Really bad.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “He just... he wouldn’t turn his back on you. I know it. Sam wouldn’t do that.”

Your eyes glazed over, and your voice came out weak and broken; the sound of the wind blowing through the trees almost drowned out your words. “He did it to you. Because of her.”

Dean covered your hand with his. “That’s different, Y/N. Listen to me. Sam is in love with you. Forever kind of love. I don’t know what that was, but it damn sure wasn’t what it looked like. Sam’s stronger now than he was before. And smarter. There’s nothing she could do to make Sam forget you. Not a damn thing.”

“I wish I could believe that, Dean. Addiction makes you do things you wouldn’t normally do.” You stared hard at the empty candy wrapper in your hand. “I know I threw a fit to come with you, but I don’t want to go in there. I can’t. I can’t see what’s in there.”

Dean let go of your hand. He looked at you, and then dropped his eyes quickly from yours. When he looked back at you, his expression was steady and determined. “I’m going in there to get Sam, and I’m going to kill that bitch...again. So dead, she’s going to stay that way.”

The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Sam’s POV

I wanted Ruby to just stop talking. For the past three weeks, she’d gone on and on about me taking over the reins of hell as the new king and how strong I’d be. Every time she talked about me taking over the throne, it was accompanied by her pawing all over me and pumping me full of more demon blood. Her hands on me brought back all kinds of memories I’d kept buried so deep they couldn’t hurt me. I didn’t know if I could deal with them if I let them come to the surface.

I couldn’t push them aside now. The guilt was the worst. I’d started the apocalypse because I believed her lies. I’d needed her. Not out of choice, but because there wasn’t anything else. Everything is different now, but my body doesn’t know that. I got hard, and she loved it. She enjoyed the fact I couldn’t control it, couldn’t stop it from happening.

She was grinding on me now. “Sam, you’re everything I remember, only better. Aren’t you ready to show me just how much better?”

She closed her hand around my cock and started to stroke. There was evil in her eyes. I should have seen it before. Her hand got faster, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I wasn’t going to come. That, I could control. I refused to give her the satisfaction.

Her hand was pistoning on me, and her expression was filled with malice. She was going to try to wring the orgasm out of me. “You can’t fight me forever, Sam. You are going to give in. This is what you’re meant for.” I clenched my teeth hard. “I won’t let my Lord down, Sam. I will make you into who he wants you to be. I will deliver you to Lucifer strong, ruthless, and ready to be a king.”

I felt a resolution inside me sharper than any I’d felt before. “I’ll never be who you want me to be. Don’t you get it? This isn’t me. The part of me that matters is still in that bunker with Y/N. And you can never have it.”

Ruby’s eyes flashed fury before they went black. “That’s it, Sam. I’m done playing nice.” She flung my still hard dick out of her hand, grabbed a syringe filled with demon blood, jabbed it into my arm, and pushed the plunger down.

I thought I had won, but she pushed my open jeans down my hips. My erection was standing out over the top of my boxer briefs. “You’d better start fucking me, Sam, unless you want to find out all the fun things I can use to fuck that little slut of yours.”

I closed my eyes against the battle raging inside me. Your face was stuck in my head, smiling and beautiful the way I remembered. I reached out and grabbed her waist with my hands. Then I let them fall. I couldn’t do it. She wrapped her hand around the base of my dick and squeezed while she rolled my balls in her other hand. I was so hard it hurt. “No. Don’t.”

“Is that your final answer, Sam?”

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

I kept my eyes closed. I wasn’t going to look at her. Any second now, she was going to sink down on me. I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry. “Sammy!”

My eyes flew open. “Dean!?”

Dean was pointing a gun at her, his eyes full of rage. “Make one more move on my brother, you hell whore, and I’ll change my mind about killing you fast.”

Dean had been carving devil’s traps into bullets again. He took one shot at Ruby, and she fell to the floor immobilized. The last thing I remember before I blacked out was Dean sinking the demon blade into her.

Your faith was strong, but you needed proof

Reader’s POV

When you walked into Sam’s room, he was sitting on the side of his bed. His shoulders were slumped, and his forearms were propped on his legs. He sat up when he saw you. His expression was strained and his eyes looked tired. You knew his back between his shoulder blades was filled with knots. You’d loosened them up so many times after a hunt, massaging and rubbing your hands over all the tight places until he melted beneath your touch.

The urge to go to him was strong, but the uncertainty was stronger. Dean had explained to you that Sam wouldn’t start withdrawal from the blood for another few hours, but that wasn’t what scared you the most. Sam started to smile when he saw you, then stopped. He bowed his head, and you watched his hair fall over his cheek.

Sam’s voice was quiet. “Will you come closer?” He looked back at you, and you took a deep breath as you searched his eyes. “I won’t touch you. I just...don’t want...to forget how you smell.” He dropped his head again.

You could feel tears stinging the back of your eyes. You took three steps toward him and stopped. “Sam, I...I don’t know who you are.”

He lifted his head. As he talked, tears filled his eyes. “I won’t hurt you, Y/N. I would never hurt you.”

Tears ran down your cheeks. “You did, Sam. I saw you with her, outside the barn. I saw what she did.”

Sam started shaking his head. He was crying now too. “I was faithful to you, Y/N. She wanted me to cheat; she tried to make me cheat, but I didn’t. I let her do that because she threatened you, and I had to keep you safe.”

Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you

You closed the distance between you and stood before him. You brushed the hair back from his face, and Sam looked up at you, tears still in his eyes. “Please believe me, Y/N.”

You’d picked up the habit of wearing layers from Sam and Dean. You slipped out of your over shirt and held it out to Sam. He took it from you, tightening his fingers around it. “I love you, Sam, but until you’re sober; I don’t know what’s true.”

You backed out of the room. Sam watched every step. As soon as the door closed behind you, you collapsed against it.

She tied you to a kitchen chair, she broke your throne, and she cut your hair

It had been going on for two days. You hovered outside the door listening to Sam calling your name. He didn’t sound mad, just alone and in pain. Dean had been careful to put Sam in a room far away from yours while he detoxed, but no distance between you could stop you from hearing Sam’s voice in your head.

You were outside the room now, on the floor with your back against the wall, listening to Sam’s cries. Dean came walking down the hall carrying a bottle of Gatorade and a straw. He stopped when he got to where you were sitting. “You okay?”

“Dean, how long is he gonna be like this?” You could hear Sam moaning on the other side of the door. Dean contemplated the bottle in his hand pulling his bottom lip into his mouth and dragging his teeth across it as he released it. “I can’t take much more, Dean.”

Dean gentled his voice. “He doesn’t have as much blood in him as last time. If.... I don’t know, Y/N. I just don’t know.”

Baby, I’ve been here before; I’ve seen this room, and I’ve this floor

Sam’s POV

My mouth was dry and another cramp was twisting through my stomach. My hands were shaking, but I held onto the shirt you gave me. I pressed it against my face and breathed in. It smelled like vanilla and some kind of flower. You. “Y/N. Y/N!” You wouldn’t hear me. If you could, I’d tell you how sorry I am and beg you to forgive me. I’m a junkie again. Regardless of why I did it, it got me here. Without you. I closed my eyes and curled into a ball holding onto all of you I had, your shirt and my memories.

Love is not a victory march; it’s a cold, and it’s a broken hallelujah

Two Months Earlier

I was pulling at your bottom lip, kissing you, wanting you. The taste of you and the sweet sounds you were making filled me up with wanting you. I pushed my tongue deeper into your mouth; you moved under me, and I felt myself get harder. Your skin against mine was warm, soft. Touching you filled me with the promise and the hope that we’d have this always.

You lifted your hips, and I knew you were ready. I pushed into you a little at a time. Your muscles tightened around me, and my breath caught in my throat. You gave yourself to me, and I lost myself in you. I came that night whispering, “I love you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I opened my eyes to stare at a brick wall in a room that wasn’t mine, in a bed you’d never been in. Your shirt was still in my hands. I brought it to my nose, smelled it again, and closed my eyes willing my dream to be real again.

The Holy Dove was moving too, and every breath we drew was hallelujah

Reader’s POV

You sat in the middle of the bed in Sam’s room with the blankets wrapped around you making a cocoon that was a feeble attempt to block out reality. This room was where you’d known your greatest joy. It was the place where you and Sam had slept in each other’s arms, where you had woken up to his smile, and where he’d first told you he loved you. It was where you had conceived your child.

You ran your hand over his pillow, remembering. It wasn’t hard to picture him there, golden skin against the white sheets. It wasn’t hard to remember the sound of his breathing, steady and peaceful. You saw his hazel eyes every time you closed your own.

A knock at the door pulled you out of your thoughts. You clutched the blankets to your chest, bracing yourself for whatever was about to happen. “Come in.”

Maybe there’s a god above

Dean looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Maybe he hadn’t. “Y/N, I think you should see Sam. He’s too weak now to do anything that could hurt you. We might be losing him.”

“No, Dean, no.” You shook your head, held onto the blankets, and the tears came again.

It’s not a cry you hear at night...it’s a cold, and it’s a broken hallelujah

Nothing could have prepared you for how Sam looked. Helpless wasn’t a word you would have ever used to describe Sam, but that’s how he looked now. You sat down next to him and gently pushed his damp hair off his forehead. His skin was hot to the touch. The fever had made him almost non responsive.

“Y/N?” Sam tried to raise his hand; it fell back down on the bed.

You took his hand in yours. “I’m here, Sam. I’m here.” You stroked your thumb across his cheek in an attempt to comfort him. “Dean, he needs new clothes. Bring me some. Second drawer in his chest on the right side. And bring some water and a washcloth.”

It didn’t take Dean long to return with the things you’d asked for. He helped you undress Sam so you could bathe him. The only sound Sam made was a soft whimper. When he was dressed in fresh clothes, Dean left you alone with him.

You took Sam’s hand in yours again. “Sam, please hear me. Come back to me. I love you, and I need you. We’re going to have a baby, Sam.” You raised his hand to your lips and kissed it. “Come back to us.” You put his hand down by his side, and brushed his hair back from his forehead. One of your tears landed on his cheek. “Sam?”

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[apheamoon]

Lonely Souls - Chapter 2

A/N: My second chapter!! Oh my gosh you guys, I wanted to thank all of you who read the first one! It had so much engagement towards it, which I did not expect in the slightest! Thank you all so so much, and please enjoy this second part ❤️

Warnings - based off the MCU (set directly after the events of Endgame), there’s going to be a slowburn to the relationship, love triangles, slight angst.

——————————————————————————

The Milano was silent; in front of the Guardians lay a figure, wearing a broken down helmet, a torn jacket that scraped just around their thighs and boots that looked like they were 3 sizes too big for them. The view to each of them was astonishing - even Thor was intrigued by what lay on the table. For once, the prince was silent, softly scratching on his stout belly as he looked down.

Mantis was standing at the head of the desk, her antenna softly twitching as she grasped onto the figures head. Closing her eyes, she went quiet for a moment, before a small gasp of shock escaped her lips.

“What?” Quill sighed, slightly frustrated that his search for Gamora had come to a sudden halt, “What’s happened?”

Mantis looked up to the others, her eyes glimmering with a familiar look of terror. Her already pale face washed over, and she soon had a ghost-like look plastered onto it. As if in a trance, she immediately turned back down towards the figure and went silent for another few moments, before her voice finally whispered out a single word: “Grief.”

The Milano suddenly corrupted into a chorus of whispers and remarks. Standing on Groot’s shoulder was Rocket, his paw latching onto his best friends wooden neck for support. His eyes narrowed as he looked down to the figure on the table, and his ears rolled backwards, like before. Something wasn’t right. Quill shared a look with the raccoon, and sooner or later found himself walking towards the figure on the table. His eyes filled with curiosity as he looked to the mask - familiar yet different in so many different ways. Even the way that this figure was dressed...it reminded him of something that could only be described as nostalgic. The mask was a big clue as to what this person (or creature) worked as too - a scavenger. Considering Peter worked as one for the majority of his life, he knew what one would look like, but this figure wasn’t familiar to him in the slightest.

“Careful,” Nebula was standing in a shadowed area of the ship, her arms folded across her chest as she looked to the crew surrounding the table. Her voice was quiet, but definitely loud enough for them all to hear her, “We don’t know what, or who, it is.”

“I am gonna be careful,” Quill pulled a face of sarcasm over at the blue robot, his hand reaching over and pulling the mask off of the figures face, “I am the captain, aren’t I? I’d say I made pretty good choi-“

With the scavenger mask now in Peter’s grasp, he and the rest of The Guardian’s could finally see what the figure was, and his sentence fell short of silence. On the table lay a woman, her eyes closed and her mouth slightly parted. She looked an awful lot like Peter - species wise anyways. And Quill hadn’t seen another human, in space, for a long, long time.

“It is a female dude!” Drax declared, his voice serious as he looked down towards her, “She reminds me of Quill. But not as stupid-“

“No, no,” Thor cut in on Drax’s comment, tapping his shoulder and grinning, “This is clearly a fair maiden. One of the best too, may I add. Very pretty!”

Hopping from Groot’s shoulder, Rocket made his way towards the girl lying down and took a long sniff of her hair. He then gagged and stepped backwards, covering his nose with his paw and shaking his head in disgusting.

“I am Groot?” Groot tilted his head over at Rocket, making the raccoon nod his head and choke out a cough.

“Yeah, buddy. She smells like she hasn’t showered in about 5 years!”

Quill was silent, likewise to Nebula. The two were waiting for Mantis’ comment. What else was this girl thinking, feeling? What had happened to her? Why was she floating through the sky?! And why was there another human in space after the snap? Walking backwards from the table, Quill scratched his beard and raised an eyebrow over towards Mantis, hoping she would give the crew some more information before this girl woke up.

Looking to Quill, Mantis tilted her head slightly before she nodded and looked back down towards the body on the table. With her antenna glowing, she suddenly trembled.

“She feels...confusion...pain...and sadness. Loss - she has lost people dear to her!”

A look of sadness washed over Peter’s face, but he quickly wiped it off. With a sigh, the thoughts of the snap rushed through his brain. All of The Guardians had lost someone to the snap, so this girl had clearly lost people to it too. Quill didn’t quite realise the scale that Thanos had achieved to reach, but he too was snapped out of existence...so, in some ways, he could sympathise.

“Wake her up.” He told Mantis, his voice soft, yet firm.

Nodding, Mantis closed her eyes and reached her head towards, her voice going down to a low whisper, “Wake!”

Bracing themselves for the worst, Rocket had already been around and taken any weapons from the woman. On her, she had a small bounty knife and a laser gun. Apart from that, the only mechanical things the woman had held onto was her mask, but that was already with Quill at this time.

As soon as the words, “wake”, left Mantis’ lips, the girl shot up on the desk, wide-eyed and confused more than anything. She scrambled up from the table she was laying on and staggered backwards, crashing into the wall and freezing, suddenly. She was in a room with complete strangers, on a ship she wasn’t used to and it was like her brain had completely stopped working on her. Turning slowly, the girl swallowed thickly and gave the figures a shaky wave, still trying to process what exactly was going on.

“W-w-who...?” She choked out, her back pressing firmly against the wall as she looked to the crew.

“You don’t have to make owl noises at us, we aren’t gonna hurt you,” Quill smirked, walking over to the girl and handing her the helmet.

Taking the helmet from Quill’s grasp, the girl nodded slightly and cleared her throat, trying to make sense of what was going on. She was on a strangers ship, with a raccoon, a tree, a yellow ant, a man covered with tattoos, a blonde Santa Claus and someone who looked like they just walked out of a thrift store. She tried not to act confused, but she really, really was. Her head was spinning, like someone was shifting through her thoughts or something, and for some reason she was finding it hard to catch her breath.

“This better not be the replacement for my sister.” Nebula sighed, walking out of the shadows and standing next to Quill, making the girl in front of her jump. She hadn’t noticed Nebula in the shadows, and she looked like the meanest one out of the lot.

“It’s not,” Quill fired, his eyes flickering from the new girl’s over to Nebula’s, “She’s not!” Looking back over towards the girl, he cleared his throat, almost flustered, and gave her a sympathetic smile, “Do you remember your name?”

The girl nodded, slowly, but she was still confused on what to make of the situation at hand. Placing her helmet on a small desk to the side, she took a step closer and watched the others carefully. They seemed nice enough - but she had to remember that this was space. Not everyone was as they seemed in these parts.

“Y-yeah, I do,” She replied, the shake in her tone remaining, “It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N? It sounds like a leaders name!” Drax whispered over to Groot and Mantis, and the two nodded in agreement.

Quill shot them a look as if to say, “oh, c’mon guys”. Even when a new person joined the ship, even if it was for a brief moment, it seemed his crew wanted a new leader every single time.

“I’m the leader!” He said, quickly, “This is my ship-“

“-my ship...-“ The grumble came from Rocket.

“-And I have lead this team to many, many victories!”

This was a lot to take in for Y/N. First, she was still confused. Although the others seemed somewhat comfortable in her company, the whole ship was ultimately foreign to her. She was used to her own ship, back with her own team. But they were gone, supposedly. Why else would she have been floating through the air? She gave Peter a dumbfounded look when he mentioned ‘victories’. It was one that Drax noticed, and he immediately jumped to her rescue.

“Quill saved the universe through a dance battle!” He told her, his voice having the same serious tone in from before, “I thought it was stupid, and non of us joined in, but he kept on dancing.”

“I am Groot!” Groot added with excitement, though his eyes were glued down to the same video-game console from before.

“H-hi Groot,” Y/N waved over to the youngest on the ship, not quite understanding his language but going along with it anyway, “I’m sorry but...I don’t understand how any of this has got to do with victories or...leadership,” Her eyebrows quirked with suspicion and she looked back over to Quill, “A dance battle?”

Peter was massaging his forehead at this moment, his body slouched and leaning against the table that Y/N was once laying on. He let out a long, frustrated sigh. It was something he was getting used to, naturally. The insults The Guardians would innocently throw at him. But he was a good leader. He was definitely a good leader.

“Yes, a dance battle.” He whispered, his voice pained with what could only be described as cringe.

“I heard he sung too,” Nebula added, “A song from his mixtape. He sung it to my brother, Ronan, so he could get the power stone for my father, who is now dead,” She turned to Peter with a look of disappointment, “My sister really did date an idiot.”

Y/N tried hard not to smirk during this conversation. Although everyone was having digs at this Quill guy, it seemed like they were all close. Like a family, some would say, but also as a team. It also felt like, to her, that they had been working together for a few years. It felt slightly wrong on her behalf, almost as though she was intruding their ship.

As she went deep into thought, she began to ignore The Guardian’s absent squabbling and she herself began to think about her past. What had happened for her to be floating through the air the way that she did? And why weren’t her crew looking for her? She must have looked as though she was in distress of some sort, because Thor soon shadowed her and gave her the smile of a goof.

“Lady Y/N,” He started, his voice deep but quiet, “If you don’t mind me asking, why were you floating through space?”

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