#a real “this is your brain on drugs” moment

[haunted-art-gallery]

With no real logical thought process besides vague vibes, I present to you

Dust being presented with good food:

— "stars above I think I just came"

— "I can postpone the suicide for this"

— "no way, the voices are quiet"

— "time for a religious experience"

— "shut up I need a moment alone with this"

Dust being presented with bad food:

— "papa? Is that you?"

— "this is your brain on drugs"

— "somewhere Gordon Ramsey just stubbed his toe"

— "god can you please pick a different soldier"

— "I believe it was Abraham Lincoln who once said: 'oh god no'."

[karmacat107]

kiss a star

[clumsyclifford]

x

[persephoneflouwers]

-

[sanguineterrain]

in the buff | jason todd

Summary: The one where you learn firsthand that Jason Todd sleeps in the nude.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings/tags: best friend jason, awkwardness, nudity, reader hardcore thirsting over jaytodd, love confessions, humor (attempts at it, anyway), silliness. inspired by this post!

the divider

There's been a huge (blessed) development in the drug ring case that you and Jason are working on. You can hardly sleep now.

Normally, you'd call or text Jason, even though he's usually already in the know. It's possible that you just like having an excuse to call him, but who can confirm such a thing?

But it's late, probably too late to call, considering Jason doesn't answer his phone unless it's pinged directly to his helmet after a certain time, courtesy of his family being "a buncha jackasses" (his words, obviously).

But maybe it's not too late for a visit. After all, Jason patrols late, and has insane insomnia. He very well could be awake at this late hour. And he's never minded you dropping by before.

In truth, you haven't seen Jason in a few days and you feel restless now when you go longer than a day without seeing each other. You're not quite sure why that is.

So here you are, disabling the window alarm on Jason's apartment. Partly for a case, partly for your own benefit.

It takes a few minutes but you manage to open the window without anyone calling the police or whacking you with a broom. You slide open the window mostly soundlessly. Then you wait. The room remains dark and quiet.

You're pretty proud of yourself actually. It's not that you're green when it comes to spycraft, but you're certainly no Batman.

Still, you've managed to sneak into Jason's apartment without waking him. The Red Hood. You peek in to check if he's really asleep.

And he is, dark hair stark against the white pillow. It sticks out in messy tufts. You can't see past Jason's neck and his freckled arms, illuminated by the orange streetlight outside. You put your laptop bag on the floor.

He's sleeping on his stomach, facing away from you, but you're very endeared by how he's curled up under his sheet, hands tucked under his pillow. If you went really close to his face, you could count his eyelashes. Jason has such pretty eyelashes.

That's a perfectly normal thought to have about your best friend, right? Boys have pretty eyelashes. You're just making an observation.

You're bewildered by how cold the room is, surprised that Jason can withstand such a temperature. Maybe it's a Pit thing.

You watch him for a moment longer. Guilt pools in your gut. Are you really going to wake him when he's probably just gone to bed in the last hour? It takes Jason so long to fall asleep, you know that.

...

No, you should let him sleep. You can work on the case in the morning.

You bend down to get your laptop bag. In that time, the light flicks on.

You flinch, turn around, and find yourself staring down the barrel of a gun.

Said gun is held by an extremely naked Jason Todd.

"Oh my God!" you say at the same time Jason realizes his mistake.

"What the fuck!" he shouts, grabbing a pillow to cover himself.

But not before you get an eyeful of your best friend's, er, weaponry.

"Why are you naked?" you shout, gaze darting everywhere. Good Lord, it's seared into your retinas. You're never getting the image of Jason's dick out of your brain.

"Why are you in my apartment?" Jason snaps back.

"No, my question is way more urgent," you say.

"No the hell it's not! You broke in! I'm allowed to be naked in my apartment!"

"Okay. Alright. I came because there's been a development in our case. I thought we could work on it together but when I realized you were asleep for real, I decided to leave."

Jason rolls his eyes. "You know I'm a light sleeper. I just went to bed. I was up late.”

Realization strikes you. Could it be...?

"Oh my God. Do you have someone here?" you ask, voice sinking to a whisper.

"I have you here," Jason says irritably.

"No, like—" You make a hole with one hand and stick a finger into it. "Y'know..."

"Jesus, no!" Jason's face twists in disgust. "C'mon!"

"Okay, chill out, Jay-Jay. It'd be fine if you did. I can keep a secret," you say, shrugging. People have sex. You know that. You've never thought about Jason having sex, but you suppose it's possible. Why not? Just because you've never had sex and you always hoped that Jason would be your first doesn't mean that he would. If he's moved on in his life, then you should too.

Jason scoffs. "Yeah, okay. You think anybody would get into bed with a headcase like me?"

Hope rekindles. You're not behind. Jason's right there with you, virginity firmly intact.

He puts the safety back on the gun, squishing the pillow against himself with his elbow. You watch in fascination at his multitasking. Jason starts to turn around to put the gun behind the headboard before clearly thinking twice about mooning you.

"So... why are you naked?" you ask, respectfully keeping your eyes north of the equator.

"If you must know, I sleep in the nude. Now turn around."

You don't turn around. "In the nude?"

Jason's eye twitches. "Yes, nude. It's better for your body and it's more comfortable and I don't—"

You pull a face. "Who says in the nude? How old are you, a hundred?"

"That's what you're harping on?" Jason asks. "You broke into my apartment!"

You hold up a finger. "I didn't break in, I disarmed the alarm like you taught me."

"Yeah, which was only for emergencies. This isn't an emergency. Now turn around!"

So you turn around. You hear the pillow fall and the image returns. You recite the alphabet backwards. When that doesn't work, you think about the time you helped Jason on a mission in the sewers and couldn't get the smell out of your suit for a week.

Yeah, that'll do it. You shudder.

"Can't believe you just broke in," he mumbles. "Raised in a fuckin' barn, swear to God."

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'm truly, honestly sorry, Jaybee. From the bottom of my heart. Can I look now?"

"If you dare."

"Are you decent?" you ask.

"Too easy of a joke," he says. "Yeah, the jewels are covered."

You turn slowly. Jason's got red (ha) boxers on, so you turn all the way.

Huh. Well.

You've never really thought much about what Jason's got going on underneath his armor. Certainly, you've assumed that he's got a good physique and a lot of stamina, considering what he does. You've always assumed that. But Jason's Jason. Your best friend, Jason. Your best friend, Jason, who came back really tall, yeah, and with a deep voice and a super pretty face...

Well, anyway. He's Jason. That's all.

But now? Now you get to look in depth, and... whoa.

Jason's broad, stocky, heavily muscled with a soft layer of fat on top. His arms are huge, hands proportionally big. His pecs are full with pink nipples the same shade as his lips. That's a fact you're never forgetting. Your belly flutters.

Okay, what the fuck! No. This is peak creepy behavior, leering at your best friend like this, even if he does have shoulders you could sink your teeth into and thighs you'd happily get crushed between. No! Bad.

...You look some more. He's covered in scars. This is the first time you've seen his autopsy scar in person. It's white, noticeable but healed, like most of his scars. There's a dusting of dark hair from his chest to his belly button. It thickens as it dips beneath his—

Mm, nope. Not thinking about that again.

"Hello-o."

Your eyes dart back to his face.

"Are you listening to me?" he asks, forehead crinkled.

"What? Yes. Sorry. Yes." Your cheeks burn.

Something crosses Jason's face, too quick for you to read. But then his expression stones over. He glances at the dresser across from the bed.

"If you gimme a sec, I'll put a shirt on so y'won't have to look at all this," he says, gesturing roughly to his body.

You blink, lost in Jasonland. "Huh?"

"I know the scars are pretty gnarly. Lemme find a shirt."

Jason goes to the dresser and digs through the top drawer. His wide back is strung tight with tension, you can tell. You hurry to him, blocking the drawer with your arm. Jason looks at you, brows rising.

"Can I help you?" he asks.

"Um."

Words. You remember words, don't you?

"You..."

You haven't been physically close to Jason in a long time. He smells like soap and detergent and is all-encompassing. Your brain feels like slush. Don't stare at his pecs.

"I didn't—I'm not grossed out by your scars, Jason," you finally manage to say.

Jason raises an eyebrow. "Sure. You're just grossed out by everything else about me." He sighs wearily, like he's practiced this speech every night in the mirror. "Look, it's fine. I know I'm really—"

"No, it's not fine! I can't bear having you think I'm repulsed by your body, Jason. That's just not true," you say.

"Well, you were starin' pretty hard, so—"

"But it wasn't—I wasn't staring in disgust, I was—I..."

Jason crosses his arms. His pecs are pushed up as he does so. His stomach looks so soft. But you know he's strong. Way stronger than you. Strong enough to wield his strength against you, if you wanted him to. Strong enough to be gentle with you, too.

You wonder if he's still ticklish.

"You're doin' it again!" Jason says, and this time he really does look hurt. Fuck. Fuck! You're a shitty best friend.

"No!" You lock eyes with him. "No, no! I mean, yes, I was looking at you. But I wasn't looking in a bad, judgy way. I was, uh, taking in your physique. Because you have a... a very nice body. I've never seen you without clothes so I was looking at you. Sorry."

Yeah, you'll just go die in a hole after this.

Jason squints at you for a long moment. You start to shift in place. Sweat beads on your forehead. You lick your lips, hoping Jason can hear your honesty.

"Are you messin' with me?"

"Huh?" You shake your head. "No, why would I—"

"You're really telling me that you find this," Jason gestures to his body, "Good looking?"

This is worse than any physical torture. You'd prefer Batman beating you up on a roof to being here.

You rub your temple, cheeks aflame. "Oh my God. Yes, Jason, you're a good looking guy. Can we move on?"

"No, 'cause I think you're lyin', and I don't like it. You're always honest with me."

"I am being honest," you say, suddenly more annoyed than anything. Because what the fuck? "Are you kidding me? There's a whole forum dedicated to the Red Hood and how much people want you to step on them. And that's without seeing your face! I have eyes, Jason, of course I find you attractive."

And that should be the end of it. Jason's already slack-jawed like a dead fish. But no, you keep going.

"You make me nervous and I thought I had a lid on it because we knew each other as kids but it's becoming clear that I very much don't, and that probably has to do with the fact that you're the only guy I've been close to, and I never got over you. And now I'm gonna go drown myself in the Hudson. Good night."

You go to slip out the window. Maybe it'll shut on your head and knock you out. That would be a divine gift.

It doesn't, though. The universe isn't so kind. Instead, Jason catches your arm and keeps you rooted to your spot. His hand is cold. You wonder if the rest of him is warm.

"Wait, wait. Just hang on."

You groan. "Dude, I'm fucking mortified over the last five minutes. Please let me keep some of my dignity," you say without looking at him.

"Now when have I ever done that?" You can hear the smile in his voice.

And suddenly, the miserable reality of never being more than friends with Jason Todd comes crashing down. It's too late. You've always been too late.

You sag in his grip.

"We can just forget this ever happened," you say quietly. "Chalk it up to idiocy."

"Mm, yeah, we could. 'Cept I don't think you're an idiot. And I want you to hear what I have t'say first. Will ya look at me?"

Mopily, you look at him. His hand drops.

"I—"

"You've never slept naked," you say before he can get a word out. "That's new. Otherwise, I would've known, and then I would've used the door."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Can I speak?"

You cross your arms. "Yeah, okay."

"First of all, I don't think it's necessary for me to disclose that I sleep in the nude." You open your mouth to argue. "But I know it was a mistake. I'm not mad about that. Okay?"

You nod. "Okay."

"I won't lie and say I'm not surprised at your... reaction. I don't really... I've never... I'm not Dick or Bruce, y'know? I wasn't told my whole life what a handsome boy I am. And dying and returning didn't really help with that stuff either."

"I think you're handsome, Jason," you say quietly. "Honest."

He coughs and looks away, a tiny blush on his cheeks. "Yeah, uh, think you've made that pretty clear. For the record, I think you're really beautiful. Always thought so."

Your eyes widen. "Really?"

"Well, yeah. I mean... yeah."

"You're just saying that 'cause I saw your vein cane," you say, grinning.

"Don't call it that."

"How about—"

"No."

You're both quiet.

"How 'bout pork swor—"

"No!"

You smile, eyes squinty. Jason glares.

"Don't nickname my thing," he says.

You nod solemnly. "You're right. It's your thing. You should choose its name."

He shakes his head. "Sucha weirdo."

"Hey, I've never been with a guy. I don't know the rules of thing-naming."

Jason tilts his head. "Never?"

"Never."

"Why?"

You shrug. "Never found anyone I liked enough, I guess. I've pretty much had my heart set on you, Jason."

His face softens. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, uh, me too," he says. "You're it for me, honey. I just never... I mean, really, I never thought it would actually happen with you. Not then, not now."

"Huh. You really should've flashed me earlier. We could've sped things up exponentially."

"Yeah, why didn't I think of that," Jason says dryly.

"Dunno! We all know you're more than a pretty face."

His face reddens. You grin.

"Are you shy?" you ask, dancing on your toes.

"No. Shut up."

"You're shy! I make Jason Todd shy! Oh, this is wonderful. I should break into your apartment regularly."

"It's just new for me!" he says. "Lea' me alone."

You cozy up to him, confidence renewed by the mutual confession. You wrap your arms around his neck. Jason looks at you, hands slowly coming to rest on your waist. The rest of him is warm.

"Just teasing you, Jaybee," you say.

"Hmm." He slowly nudges your cheek with his nose. "Like y'always do?"

"Like I always do," you say sweetly. "But for the record, if we ever share a bed in the future, you're gonna have to keep the soldier in his tent."

Jason lets go of you, exasperated. "Oh, for—y'know what? Your visitation privileges are revoked. Get outta my apartment."

You put on the saddest face you can muster. "You're kicking me out? Into the cold?"

"It's eighty degrees."

You sigh loudly. "Okay, fine. Date tomorrow?"

"Seriously?" Jason asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

"Seriously! Why wouldn't I be serious?"

"You really wanna date me?"

"Never been more sure of anything in my life."

Jason's relief is palpable and bittersweet. You'll spend the rest of your days letting him know just how spectacular he and his pectorals are.

"Okay," he says, shy again. You don't tease him this time.

"Great!" You close the distance between you and peck him on the cheek. His blinks in surprise.

"I'll give you a proper kiss on our date," you say, winking. "Bye, Jasey-Daisy."

"Bye, honey. Don't break into anyone else's apartment on your way home."

"Never," you say, climbing out the window. "You're the only one for me, Toddy!"

[aquasoftware]

FIVE STAR MEAL…★ ★ ★ ★ ★!!

Synopsis: Married to the world's most judgmental chef also meant you feared him going anywhere near your not-so-shaved pussy.

CW: Not proofread ngl 😬, Chef! Geto, c*nnilingus, fingering, spit, praise, hair pulling, thigh hickeys, kissing, dirty talk, degrading (once), squirting, tatted!Reader, insecure! Reader, established relationship, hotel setting, you have a hairy cooter in this! Lmk if I missed sum!!

FT: Drabble.

WC: 1k || Paring : Geto x F!Reader || M.L

When your husband is globally known for having a nasty attitude as a Michelin chef, of course, you were gut-wrenchingly nervous to let him eat you out.

Every "What if?" Always scurried across your scattered brain whenever Suguru pleaded to give you oral, which you brushed aside for another day until the two of you were on vacation for your 1-year anniversary, somewhat far away from the girls, while they were at your parent's house.

Praying he wouldn't treat you like he did to other chefs that he worked with, spitting out their dishes and telling them that gobbling their food was like eating shitty toxic waste, eventually you at last mustered up the courage to let him know what you really desired.

"You sure you're not gonna mind it being hairy, or.. what if I taste bad..?" You gulped, slightly grinding teeth as fidgety eyes bounced from side to side, spouting questions at Suguru left and right.

Oh? That's what this is about; this only made him abhorrently offended; you’d think he’d judge his sweet wife and her semi-unexplored jungle. You've let him finger you a couple of times, but each time was bare since being hairy made you profoundly self-conscious. Besides that, Suguru definitely snuck a taste on his fingers, although remembering it tasting like nothing, he still was prepared to eat your pussy as if it were an addictive drug.

"Trust me, baby, I'm going to take care of you real good; you're gonna wish you let me give you head sooner." Suguru smugly reassured, folding his arms as a devious grin marched in on his face.

And whew! He wasn't lying whatsoever, going slow at first, pressing tender sensual kisses at the dime-sized tattoos in between your thighs, while you rested on your elbows vigilant as to what he was doing exactly, breath hitching whenever Suguru's smooth lips trickled closer to your core.

Your husband began to harshly suck at the sensitive skin, creating dark marks on each thigh, causing you to quietly yelp, achieving a light snicker from out of him running his soft hands all over your body as he exhaled hot, steamy breath upon your aching pussy.

"Sugu..." Whining at the way his breath grazed your lower region, subtly asking for more, too impatient for anymore foreplay, soon satisfied enough, he finally licked a thin stripe across your clit, forcing your eyes to instantly shut.

His tongue lapped at your pussy as if it were nectar, eating it like he was on death row. Feeling his wet muscle slithering above your bundle of nerves in circles passionately sucking it every now and then; body uncontrollably writhing underneath Suguru’s face.

“Oh fffuck.. keep going, mhmm..” Your lips murmured words traveling straight to your husband’s ear, providing the extra motivation Suguru needed to devour that cunt whole.

He didn’t care the next person would call him disgusting for having lots of pube hair tickle his pale nose; either way, he was still going to swish his head side to side rapidly, enjoying the way your hands found solace in his raven tresses half near yanking it out of his skull developing pathetic whimpers against your throbbing pussy.

Sort of becoming embarrassed how even little vibrations from his moans led to your back arching, not at all bothered by the cruel chilly hotel air conditioning slapping close to your fiercely warm body way too in the moment of Suguru’s lewd sounds slurping down a five-star meal.

Hoping the two of you weren’t too loud during quiet hours in the lavish hotel, there was a huge attempt to keep your poor cries reduced, but you struggled, especially when Suguru covertly added fingers without warning.

Opening droopy eyes, you stared at the way this man had two fingers inserted inside, pushing them back and forth in a come here motion.“Haah haahh, shittt, u—use your fingers like that.” Mewling as loud as a siren, his slender fingers wriggling inward your mushy tightened walls felt like heaven, such in a daze that your brain persuaded you to believe that angels were singing to you.

You swore nobody could pull him away from your cunt, but he lifted his head up, panting as if he ran laps around the world. “Dirty girl, you like when I curl my fingers like this?” Suguru serenely spoke betwixt breaths, mildly biting his lip while his almond eyes traced your frame, in love with how the cream on his fingers oozed onto strands of hair from your lower lips.

Throwing your head back towards the mattress, unfortunately too engulfed in pleasure to even answer an inquiry like that right now, his fingers continuously targeted your g-spot, resulting in a deafening sing song squeal that echoed all around the spacey hotel room.

“Hmm, I think I’ve found your sweet spot, baby…” Your man cooed as freckled, sprawled-out goosebumps formed on your arms, the tone of his voice turning you on even more while he proceeded to plunge his fingertips at the notorious spongy spot, unable to help but slam your legs around his head.

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt like hell, yet his drive to please his lady was stronger than the pain pounding as of now. “Aht, aht, aht, spread those pretty legs, love.” He sternly ordered, looking prideful when you immediately listened, snapping your legs back wide like a can opener.

“O-oh my godddd aaah S—suguru,” Your lips wailed out; his spit stabbing your pussy running down your plump labia, getting more and more sloppy. Suguru decided to chase after your clit once more, not knowing all these sensations attacking you at once sent you over the edge earlier than expected.

“I can’t ‘m gonna…” You slurred as Suguru’s concentrated palm rubbed against your entrance, driving your eyes to roll back, legs frantically shaking as if they’d been electrocuted. So much was going on at once; you knew he encouraged an orgasm, but you couldn’t understand what he was saying due to his fading out voice, entirely overwhelmed with arousal. The fiery pool in your stomach snapped, bucking up into his face not noticing juices bursted all over your husband.

Boosting Suguru’s confidence causing you to realize he most certainly wasn’t going to let up unless you squirted again on the white damp sheets.

9/1/24 12:46 pm

dividers by cafe kitsune + @/rookthornesartistry

may or may not be inspired by Gordon Ramsay ☹️ leave me alone okay…

[blindmagdalena]

Center Stage in a Gilded Cage (chapter two)

18+ 3k. homelander x f!reader. pre-s1. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, forced relationship, slow burn, somnophilia, drugging, eventual smut. chapter 2/8. AO3.

You’ve been hand-chosen by a god; plucked out of your meager, mundane existence and set delicately into the lap of luxury. Your every need will be met, your every whim and wish made real. By any measure, it’s a dream come true. A life safe from pain, from toil, and from the crushing weight of choice. In exchange, all he asks is that you devote yourself wholly to him.

“What happened?” You ask, voice frayed. Your movements are sluggish, hands rubbing the disorientation from your eyes one at a time.

Homelander catches his own reflection briefly in the mirror across from the bed–making sure he doesn’t have a hair out of place for this crucial meeting–before his gaze moves back to you. “Only the most important day of your life,” he says, feeling as though he’s about to tell someone they just won the goddamn lottery. He watches you rise slowly up into a sitting position, never taking your eyes off of him. He knows that you’re nervous–can smell it on you–but he doesn’t worry himself with that. It’s to be expected initially. 

“You just so happen to be the luckiest lady in America,” he tells you, putting on his most charming smile.

“What are you talking about?” You ask, your confusion deepening. He can see the tension in your body rising as well, the pace of your heart lifting to a rabbit-like thrum despite the molasses thick haze of the anesthesia in your system.

He laughs softly, lifting his hands in an encompassing gesture. “I saved you.”

Almost instantaneously, the tense line of your shoulders droops and your eyes soften in a way that erupts a wave of butterflies in his gut. You look nearly ready to fall back into bed with the weight of relief that moves through you, causing you to sway slightly. He feels nearly delirious with the giddiness of the moment, his fingers twitching, itching to touch. 

“What do you remember?” He asks, daring to inch closer to you. His hand settles on the bed, fingertips nearly brushing your blanketed knee.

“I remember someone grabbing me. A man. He put a rag over my mouth,” you say, lifting a hand to touch your lips. His gaze drops to follow the movement. He subconsciously licks his own. He’d been such a gentleman while you slept, but that hadn’t stopped him fantasizing. He cannot wait to taste you again. “It smelled like grass or something. I fought, but he was so strong,” you say, a tremble like reverence or fear in your voice. Maybe both.

When you realize that his strength is yours, you’ll never need to fear it–or anything else–ever again.

“And then I blacked out. You saved me from him?” You look up at him with wide, watery eyes and he could almost laugh at how cute you look, cluelessly putting together mismatched pieces of the little puzzle going on in your brain. The breathless wonder in your voice–the way you’re looking at him with such hope–makes his chest swell with pride.

You’re in for a real treat.

“Sweetheart,” he coos, lifting his hand to give your knee a gentle squeeze through the blanket. “That was me,” he says, his smile broad and proud. “What I saved you from was ever stepping foot back in that dingy little apartment of yours again. From that mind numbing mediocrity and the tedium of your mundane little life. I brought you home,” he says, gesturing out to his penthouse with a grand sweep of his arm.

A pregnant pause follows.

He waits, but you still don’t seem to get it. Your heart is thumping wildly with no sign of slowing, and that brief flicker of relief has disappeared entirely, the line of your shoulders drawing back up tight. A twinge of apprehension nestles in his chest.

“Well?” He prompts, his smile faltering. “Say something.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” you say, gripping the bedding in tight fists. “You kidnapped me?”

“I didn’t kidnap you, you silly goose,” he half scoffs, half laughs. “I brought you home!” He says again, emphasizing the word ‘home’ as if it will speed along your comprehension. Instead, you look more confused and afraid than ever. 

He sighs, dropping his hands down into his lap. “C’mon, you could show a little excitement, yeah? I mean, out of the three hundred and thirty million people in America, I picked you. Those are some fucking insane lottery odds.”

“Picked me for what?” You ask quietly, a rasp in your voice that itches uncomfortably at the back of his neck. You sound ready to cry, which won’t do at all. This isn’t how this is supposed to go.

“To be mine,” he says, and while he’s still smiling, there’s an incredulous furrow to his brow. 

“Be your what?”

His smile thins alongside his patience. “My–mine, my girlfriend, lover, sweetheart, my-my fucking paramor, whatever you want to call it,” he says, that charming facade slipping as his mounting aggravation with your incomprehension creeps further up his spine. 

Where’s your excitement? Where’s your fucking gratitude?

“I don’t even know you,” you say, moving away from him to the opposite side of the bed, sliding onto your feet without ever taking your eyes off of him. You brace your hand on his headboard, steadying yourself.

Homelander stands, taken aback. “Of course you know me. You recognized me instantly!” He says, circling the bed. 

For every step he takes forward, you take two back. 

He’s bewildered by your response: he’s a goddamn hero, the shining light of providence beaming down on America, and you’re cowering from his approach like he’s some kind of fucking pariah, shrinking back against the mirror when you hit it, cornering yourself.

“You know exactly who I am, and I know you,” he says, uninvited irritation slipping into his voice. 

“I know that you like to cook, that you can’t hold your alcohol, and that the best part of your day is the little sweet treat you get yourself after work. You laugh at bad jokes and you watch worse television. Videos about sad animals make you cry, even when they end happy. When you’re depressed you shop online and look at house listings you’ll never be able to afford. I know you, alright? Down to your goddamn skincare routine. So just calm down already.”

Fuck, he needs to reign himself in. He’s gotten too worked up, and you’re stubbornly not calming down at all.

“You’ve been stalking me?” You ask, gaze darting from corner to corner like an animal seeking an avenue for escape. The horror in your voice, in your expression, churns his stomach terribly.

Relax. Relax. Give her a sec. She’ll figure it out, coos a much more confident voice in the back of his mind. He closes his eyes briefly, taking in a slow breath, inhabiting that same confidence. 

Everything’s going to be fine.

There’s no other option now.

“It’s–heh–it’s a funny story, actually,” he says, forcefully lightening his tone. He wants you to enjoy this story. Hear the romanticism in it. “I was on patrol, you know, watching for crime, or danger, people in need of saving–I do that a lot–and that’s when I saw you,” he says with a slowly broadening smile, hands lifted towards you like you’re on display. “You were on your way to work, and you handed some homeless guy a box of–”

“John,” you interrupt, staring at him with apprehension.

Homelander’s expression turns stricken, not knowing why you would possibly call him that. In his underlying agitation, he sees flashes of a cramped room behind an enormous door the color of fresh blood. His hands felt so small beating on that terrible door. His throat constricts, and he barely chokes out, “What?”

“John,” you say again, visibly concerned by his reaction. “The man I give food to, his name is John.” Of course it is. As common a gutter name as any.

“Oh,” he says, the muscles in his face tight. It takes him several seconds to recover, blinking rapidly. “Yeah. Sure. Okay. So, you… Well, I saw you, and you were rushing, working, and you’d come home, rush and work again, and the food, you’d–” Fuck, he’s lost the thread. He feels like he’s coming unspooled, an awkward mess spilled out on the floor. This is not how he wants you to see him.

If only you hadn’t said that fucking name.

He brings his hands up, covering his mouth and nose as he takes in a deep breath, eyes closed. He drops his hands in front of his chest, palms clasped together. He smiles tensely as his eyes open back up. “I’m gonna start over. Hey, hi, I’m Homelander,” he says, slipping into his stage voice without realizing it, speaking the way he would if he was addressing a crowd. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while.”

He splays his hands at that, as if waiting for an applause for his performance. You don’t appear to be of the mind to offer him one.

“Okay… so you have been stalking me,” you say, pressed so tightly against the mirror you might actually crack it. He resists the urge to roll his eyes. You’re just working yourself up now, focusing on the wrong parts entirely. He assumes you’ll be more reasonable when all the adrenaline in your blood wears off. The smell of it on you is terribly sour. “And now you’ve drugged and kidnapped me.”

He lets out a terse breath. “I–mm, I feel like you’re missing the point just a little bit here,” he says through his teeth, heat prickling his neck where his collar touches it, the fabric suddenly growing irritating against his skin. “I was not stalking you. I saw you a few times, and I wanted to meet you. And again, you’re not kidnapped!”

“I’m free to go, then?” You ask, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“Yes, obviously,” he laughs, though there’s tension in it. It takes everything in him not to forcibly uncross your arms himself. He much prefers how you looked in sleep, or when he observed you from a distance. This harsh, closed off version of you is making his skin itch. He wishes he could start the take over, the way they do when he’s filming. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Ever seen Paris? Hell, summer in Italy is–”

“Home,” you say. “I’d like to go home, please.”

“Would you-!” His tone is too sharp, too loud, and he cuts himself off, but not before his volume makes you flinch. 

He sucks in a breath, bobbing his pointer finger at you. “You-mmm,” he hums, clicking his tongue as he continues to force calm into his voice. “You are home,” he says, giving into his impulse and taking hold of your wrist, tugging your arms out of that tight cross with ease. He pulls you behind him, deciding that if telling won’t work, showing will have to. 

Once you see it, you’ll understand. You’ll understand that all of this has been for you.

“Here, look,” he says, throwing open the door to the closet. Your closet. It’s lined with outfits he’s spent the last several weeks choosing for you. Weeks spent finding a balance between your aesthetic and his. You’ll have to match him, of course. He made sure that they compliment his suit while also carrying similarities to the color palettes you’re drawn to.

He spreads his arm towards the display, fingers twitching. “See? Yours. All of it–and whatever else you want,” he says, hyper aware of how delicate your wrist feels in his grasp. You may as well be a bird in his hands, hollow-boned and fragile. “The kitchen, too, it’s yours,” he says, gesturing vaguely off in the direction of it. His attention snaps back to you, laser focused. He gives your wrist a reflexive tug, fighting with himself to keep his own strength at bay.

“I did all of this for you,” he says in a low voice, pinning you with his stare. “Tell me you understand that.”

If there’s an undercurrent of desperation in his tone, he ignores it.

Your eyes are wide and watery, a deer caught in the golden headlights of all that he is. Your breaths come in shallow waves, and the terrible fear that radiates from you makes him want to shake you. Your gaze slides from him to the closet, flitting between the myriad of garments that hang in the closet. All in your size. Some of them are nearly identical to pieces you own, but manufactured by the original designer instead of a cheap knock-off plucked from a department store rack.

And still he can give you so much more. All he asks is that you love him for it.

There’s a tremble running through you. Your throat clicks on a dry swallow, and slowly your attention drifts back to him, sweeping him from head to toe, taking account of him in his entirety for the first time. He tenses. It’s a little strange to be so seen by you, but it feels good, too. He squares his shoulders, wanting you to see the best in him.

“Why me?” You ask quietly, your eyes meeting his. You still look lost, but what he finds endearing is the underlying conviction he sees. You’re always quick to move towards a solution. He likes that about you. He’s not sure what it is that you’ve decided, but it’s clear you’ve made a choice somewhere in your mind.

Because you’re like me.

“Because you deserve it,” he says, drawing you in at the same time he turns his body towards yours. “You’re underappreciated. Undervalued. You’re capable of so much more than the world gives you credit for,” he says, his grip on your wrist flexing. Every one of those glorified pen-pushers at Vought should choke for the way they ignore him, hoisting their agendas onto him while dismissing his ideas. “And you’re lonely.”

Your eyes widen a fraction. Bullseye.

Sensing vulnerability, he moves a step closer, taking hold of your other wrist. He offers both a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to be.”

Neither of us do.

“This is insane,” you whisper, but the inflection of your voice makes it sound like a question. Like you’re considering it. “You’re… You’re Homelander,” you say, as if that should explain everything you hold in your gaze. 

And I’m nobody, you must be thinking. Maybe you were once, but no longer. You’ve been elevated in the way only someone chosen by God can be.

“And you’re here. With me,” he counters, his own voice lower now, quieter in the intimately narrow space between your bodies, both hands wrapped around your wrists. There’s a flush crawling up your throat, warming you all the way to your ears. His thumb absently strokes your pulse-point. “Safe. I’m a hero, remember?”

“So, you’re not… going to wear my skin, or eat me?” You ask, voice filled with such dread at the notion he thinks you might have actually believed that was his intention.

He barks a laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, first of all, no more Silence of the Lambs for you,” he says, relinquishing his hold on your wrists to slide his hands up your arms, squeezing your shoulders. “Second, no. I’m not going to wear your skin. Or eat you.”

Well… Not like that. He can’t promise he won’t devour you, though. Pin you beneath the weight of his strength–he could keep you down with nothing more than his pinky–put his head between your thighs and trace his name with his tongue until you’re screaming it. The thought makes his cock throb, stiffen. He licks his lips subconsciously, glad for the cover of his cup.

“Okay,” you say, snapping him out of his daydream. “Then you want me to…?” 

It seems ridiculous to him that he would still have to explain it. He’ll blame it on the anesthesia.

“Do whatever you want,” he says, taking his hands from your shoulders to motion to the rest of his penthouse. “Cook, don’t cook. Read books, shop, get in arguments on the internet over fictional characters,” he says, swirling his hand in a vague gesture. “Whatever makes you happy,” he says, gaze drifting back to you. All you have to do is do it with me. “Pretty sweet deal if you ask me.” He offers you the sharp edge of a smile, leaving little room for discussion.

You stare at him for a moment that’s too long and too quiet for his liking before your eyes wander, taking in the rest of his room. The balcony beyond the threshold. The mirrors and paintings on the walls, the statues in the corners, the rich dark colors. Everything has been decorated to make the space feel grander, more open. No blank walls. No doors that lock. It’s his home.

And now it’s your home.

“Okay,” you say eventually.

His brows shoot up. “Okay?”

You look back to him, your expression difficult for him to parse. Despite years spent practicing and learning facial expressions–all part of his camera training–he cannot read yours right now. He would be more bothered if he weren’t so distracted by the spark of hope that flares in his chest. “Okay,” you say again, adding a small nod this time.

He exhales a breathy laugh. “Yeah? Yeah! Okay. Alright. Wow, that’s… that’s great,” he says, his grin wide and a touch incredulous. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, a sense of suspicion, but his elation smothers it. He had dreaded that you might face an adjustment period, be confused, that there would be tears or anger. You were really starting to get under his skin with all that talk of kidnapping.

As if he were some sort of common thug or criminal, and not a savior.

In his exhilaration, he cups your face suddenly. He feels your pulse spike in his hands, but his focus is solely on your eyes.

“I’m going to make you the happiest woman alive,” he vows with a soft gaze and an eager smile. He leans in close enough to feel your breaths on his lips, tempted to kiss you, but he stops himself. There will be plenty of time for that, and he doesn’t want to remember your first kiss alongside the acrid tinge of your fading fear. His thumbs brush your cheeks, learning the shape of them under his touch.

He’d been wrong when he first took notice of you. You’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

Sucking in a steadying breath, he draws away, placing his hands on his hips. “Now… How about we get you a little more comfortable for bed?”

( chapter three )

[consextualjane]

Ransom

Brandon jumped when his phone buzzed. His nerves were nearly fried from hours of worry, wondering where Alicia could be. Tuesdays were her yoga class days. She was usually home by seven, but it was going on midnight now.

He grabbed his phone.  What he saw on the screen didn't make sense. A picture of Alicia, ball-gagged and on her knees in front of a mirror, was sent from an unknown number.  The woman who had taken the picture was standing next to Alicia with her ass pressed against his girlfriend's face.

The message under the image was even more surreal: I picked up your dumb girlfriend at a yoga class. I told her I  ran an advanced class from my home, and this idiot believed me.  She's full of drugs and had a vibrator held to her clit for the last two hours. I doubt she even knows her name right now. If you want her back, wire five thousand dollars to the link in the next message. Or something worse will happen to her.

Brandon's phone buzzed again and the link appeared.  His brain didn't register what was happening. Was this some kind of prank? Alicia had mentioned wanting to spice up their sex life. Was this her way? Or was it real?

What the fuck is this, he typed in response, not knowing what else to do. He waited for what seemed like several minutes before he received a response.

You have one minute.

Brandon's worry turned to anger. He wasn't going to indulge whatever game this was.

He typed another message: Go fuck yourself.

Suit yourself, came the response.

He tossed the phone on couch. She'd be home soon, once she realized he wasn't into whatever game this was. And then they would be having frank discussion about what he considered cheating. He flopped himself down on the couch and turned on the TV.

A few minutes of channel surfing went by before he looked back at his phone.  Who was the other girl in that photo? Why was Alicia dressed like such a slut for her? Brandon picked up his phone and opened the photo again.

There was his girlfriend, on her knees and wearing a leather belt and collar lingerie. Since when did she act like that? The other woman's big ass was dominating Alicia's face. She almost looked like she was enjoying it. His cock stiffened.

He started to rub it through his pants, but then he stopped himself, throwing his phone down. He wasn't into this kinky stuff. And he didn't sign up to date a whore.

His eyes were drifting back to the TV when he felt his phone vibrate through the couch cushion. Was that her again? Reaching for the phone, he felt his heart rate quicken. When he looked at the screen he found text message with only a video.

A surge of images flashed through his mind. Was this woman actually doing things to his girlfriend? There was no way he could watch that video. He only hesitated for a moment before his thumb betrayed him and pressed play.

The video opened to a view of the woman's bedroom. The lights were off except for a neon glow coming from behind the camera, illuminating her empty bed. An eighties-style synth pop song started playing in the background as a women walked into the frame.

Only her bottom half was visible in the video, but Brandon could tell from her thong that it was the woman from the photo. She walked in front of the camera, showing off her wide hips. Brandon felt himself getting harder despite his disgust. He held the phone closer, and noticed a bulge in the front of the woman's thong.

She  stood in front of the bed, swaying her hips for several seconds, before reaching into the front of her thong and pulling out one of the biggest cocks Brandon had ever seen, fully hard and girthy. It was nearly twice the size of his own.

She stroked the behemoth a few times. His mouth fell open as a thick bead of precum oozed out of the tip and dripped out of the frame. His own cock was about to burst through his pants. Without realizing what he was doing, he unzipped and pulled it out.

The woman on the video then walked out of view. The synthesizer-heavy song continued to hum ominously in the background. A second later Brandon saw his girlfriend climb on to the bed on all fours. A mix of horror and lust coursed through his cock as he watched the woman get on to the bed behind her.  She pushed Alicia down into the mattress and pulled her hips up before giving her ass a hard slap. He heard his girlfriend moan over the music.

After another ass-slap, Alicia turned and looked directly at the camera. Brandon felt her looking at him. Her eyes were wide, full of fear, and lust, and something that almost seemed like an apology for what he was about to see.

Right on cue, the woman sank her massive, bare girl-cock  into his girlfriend from behind. Alicia fell to the mattress, letting out an orgasmic cry just as the video cut out.

Brandon stared at the screen, his phone in one hand, his throbbing cock in the other. The shock of the video made his mind go blank. Before he could think of what to do next his phone buzzed with another message.

Send the money to see the rest.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (29/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Another glimpse of Charles' mind - and honey, that boy is down bad.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of dry humping, sex and oral sex), angst, but make it hot

Word Count: 3k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: LETS FUCKING GO LANDO!!! CHEERS BABE I LOVE YOU! feedback is appreciated!

Charles is so glad to be sitting in the rickety Renault again. He can feel the individual springs through the thin fabric of the seat and the few cracks in the steering wheel feel wonderfully familiar in his calloused hands. As soon as you both arrive at his mother's house, he would text Andrea and thank him for picking up the car with him at the old apartment.

It takes immense willpower for him to let his hand rest either on the gear stick between you or on the steering wheel, because he'd love to slide his ringed fingers over the fabric of your jeans on your thigh. Or hold your hand. Touch you somehow. 

It's as if he's addicted to your touch. As if the warmth of your skin, the softness of your body were a drug that he couldn't get enough of after the first real contact. And all he can think about is how good your skin felt against his. 

He regrets a little that the first time was in a terrible situation that both he and you would like to forget. He remembers how your body shook as you lay on your bed in just your underwear and cried. How you didn't even realize Charles had entered the room because literally everything was out of control. And for sure, after what he did and the words he threw at you, Charles had no right to comfort you and hold you in his arms. 

And although his head warned him to stay away from you, his body fought back and, without hesitation, lay with you, pulled you close and held you while you cried yourself to sleep. And when you sobbed his name, with a broken voice and a deep-seated, audible pain, his brain had completely shut down, which is why he couldn't say anything other than "I'm here as long as you'll let me".  

But he had already realized beforehand that there would be no turning back. He already knew at dinner with his friends that all he would ever want would be you as soon as you touched him. When you pressed your leg against his to show him that you were there for him, when he was asked about Annika, and for a moment it felt as if he had caught a spark of fire and it had sunk through his jeans and burnt him. But it was just the warmth of your skin that he could feel despite the layers of fabric. And when he wasn't sure if it was actually you, he'd suggested sharing the tiramisu so he could be closer to you. 

And when he not-so-accidentally pressed his chest against your back to reach the tiramisu in your hand, he got so warm he thought he was going to have a heat stroke. 

He had a similar experience the night he woke up because you breathed his name in your sleep and pressed your butt against him. The morning when he had to flee from bed because he feared he would provoke a heart attack if he allowed you to rub against him and then had to suppress his urge to touch you. There's no question that he was only thinking about you in the shower when he touched himself. 

But nothing could have prepared him for the real thing. When he wrapped his arm around you and intertwined your fingers to show you that he was there for you. The warmth he'd felt earlier through the clothes you'd been wearing had been pleasant. Your skin on his felt more like a burn, as if he'd put his hand on a hotplate that was switched on, as if he'd been lying in the sun too long without sunscreen and got burnt. As if you were the sun he got too close to. You burned into his skin with your touch - and never in his life has he loved heat as much as he did at that moment. 

That night, he held you as tightly as if he could suck the pain from your body and absorb it into himself. True, Charles had struggled just as much after realizing that the man who hurt the woman in his arms was the very man his own girlfriend had cheated on him with, but he'd swallowed that and shrugged it off the moment he'd seen the fear in your eyes as he climbed the steps to the apartment and saw you both standing in the hallway. 

You had been his priority and he wanted to protect you as best he could, even if he couldn't undo any of what had happened. He can't change the fact that Raphael betrayed you and he can't take away the pain that this breach of trust caused you. He can't undo the fact that he said all those cruel things to you because he was jealous of Lando, because you took him to your heart so quickly - who you touched without hesitation - and he couldn't keep his feelings under control. Charles can't change any of that. 

But the night he held you while you cried all the tears you had inside you, he vowed to protect you from anything that could hurt you. He swore to take care of you as best he could and to make your life easier if he could. He swore that he would never be the cause of your pain again. 

And even though your touch feels like a warm sunburn to him, like a hot ray of sunshine and like happiness itself, he vowed to see you as none other than his girlfriend, his roommate, who deserves far better than a jealous Charles who can't give you what you need to be happy. 

He can't assure you that he'll always be there for you when you need him. His job doesn't allow that. There's no way he can always be with you to hold you when you're sad. It's so incredibly unfair to ask you to wait for him. He can't give you the time the both of you need to build an adult, good and above all healthy relationship. And it would be irresponsible to plunge you into this life where the public would run their mouths about the couple just because you were a couple. He would give you anything you asked of him, but never would he put you in a situation that would hurt you.

He would protect you. The girl who lay quietly in his arms and cried until she fell asleep. The girl who turned his whole world upside down in the space of a few days. The girl who his mother thought was his girlfriend, which he didn't want to correct because he secretly wished that was the reality. 

The girl who was gracious enough to forgive him for his actions and stayed by his side despite his name and the hurdles his friendship would bring, even insisting on staying there come what may. The girl who helped him move on from his toxic relationship with his ex by burning it all. 

The night had been cleansing. With each piece of the relationship you both threw into the flames, the weight on Charles' shoulders lightened until it disappeared completely with the last burnt petal. He thought it was only fair to tell you that Raphael was the guy who had destroyed both your relationship and his. And although Charles could tell you were more upset by this fact than you might like to admit, he felt closer to you than ever before. 

You promised him that there would be a soulmate for him in this world. Someone with whom he doesn't have to pretend and can be who he really is. And after his body once again asserted itself against his brain and pulled you on top of him so that you could cuddle - strictly as friends - you fell asleep on top of him. And while he scratched your head, felt your warm breath on his neck and enjoyed the weight of your body on his, he wondered why he got the feeling that he had already found this person when he looked at you.

"Is she asleep?" Joris asked quietly and stood in front of the fire bowl, his hands outstretched to get some warmth. Charles nodded barely perceptibly. He would never risk you waking up and pulling away from him because of one of his movements. His heart couldn't take that. 

"Yes," he breathes without sound. 

Joris looks into the fire. "She's good for you. And you seem to be good for her too." When Charles looks at him, a little confused, Joris shrugs. "She just said to me that you're her best friend."

Charles couldn't explain why his heart momentarily stopped working, only to break into many pieces on the next beat. Although he had decided for himself not to let your relationship go any further than a friendship would allow, and the constant closeness and constant touching was certainly not exactly conducive to that, somewhere deep inside Charles had had a small spark of hope that perhaps something else could become of you at some point. 

But that spark had gone out. 

Charles avoided his oldest friend's gaze, staring into the blazing flames. Why did it hurt him so much? Wasn't that exactly what he wanted?

"Charles?" Joris tried to catch the Monegasque's gaze, but he stubbornly refused to look away from the fire. "Do you love her?" 

Charles didn't know whether it was the hot fire in front of him that was making his eyes water. He felt the drops burn on his lash line before he blinked and they rolled painfully down his cheek like acid. 

He didn't look at Joris. 

Best friend. Two words and a bitter aftertaste that stuck so disgustingly to his tongue when he said them to your face. They made his stomach ache and he would have liked to break away from you so he wouldn't have to endure it anymore. But he is your best friend. And he swore to himself that he would never hurt you again. So he can't help but endure this burning closeness, this torture of being with you but not being able to do anything. 

He fell asleep with you, body pressed against body, and he would endure that heat for all time if it meant you were safe. And even though he was aware of the fact that he was nothing more to you than your best friend, that didn't stop his heart from doing a little skip when he tried to break away from you to go jogging and you wrapped yourself around his arm. 

He blamed it on your tiredness, that you wanted to keep him there. That you weren't in your right mind when you reminded him that it was his suggestion to share a bed because it would help you sleep better, and then you kissed his bare chest. Kissed. 

His brain, which must have had a bit of a lapse as a result, didn't seem to be working properly when he admitted that he'd even said he'd always hold her in his arms. And it wasn't working properly when you wrapped your leg around his waist to pull him closer to you. It seemed like a miracle that he had finally managed to pull away from you and get dressed after all.

First the left sock, then the right. The shirt is on the -

When you wrapped your arms around him and called him Sharl, it was over. Something inside him had short-circuited. He's not even sure what exactly he said to you anymore. The only thing he remembers is how he pulled you onto his lap. How he hoped you'd give him a sign so he could give you back some of what he'd stopped dreaming about. 

And you moaned his name as he rocked you over his erection. Clinging to him like he was all you would ever need. Charles would have loved to throw you back on the bed - the bed you share as friends - and kiss you. He would have undressed you and let his mouth roam over your body, hoping that his touch would burn on your skin as much as yours burns on his. He would have devoured you, latching his mouth onto your pussy and tasting you until you came on his tongue. You would have clawed your fingers in his hair, rubbed your pussy against his mouth and moaned his name. And then he would have taken you, slowly at first so you'd get used to him, and meanwhile he would have kissed you so you could taste yourself on his tongue before he ruined you for any men who might come after him who weren't your best friend. 

But the only thing he could do was cup your chin and make you look at him while you moved back and forth on his hard-on yourself. He would never forget the look in your eyes, that pleading look as his cock bumped against your clit and lightning flashed through his veins, electrifying him. 

You begged him and he vowed to give you anything that would make you happy. And if that meant splitting you in half and making you come on his tongue, his fingers and his cock so many times until you couldn't remember his name or your own, he would have given it to you without hesitation.

And then his fucking phone rang.

He would have loved to slam it against the wall and kill Andrea for interrupting that moment. But when you slipped off his lap, he dressed quickly and his blood rushed back into his brain, he was even a little grateful. What if you had slept together and you hadn't wanted to be friends with him afterwards?

He was so happy when you reassured him that everything was fine between you. And he would have loved to hug you, but somehow it didn't seem right for him to be so close to you after you dry humped. So he let it go and went for a jog, relieved that Andrea had so much to talk about with him. 

The more he talked about Ferrari, his training and the upcoming trip, the less he had to think about you while running. 

But when he walked into the apartment with full shopping bags and Andrea in tow and saw you standing in the hallway all dressed up, all his blood went south again. The jeans that accentuated your every curve to the extreme and the top with a slight neckline that he wanted to pull over your head. 

The fact that Andrea had to leave quickly played into his cards and the fact that he had to take a shower was also ideal, because he wouldn't have been able to hide his boner, which was certainly visible through the shorts, for much longer. In the shower he had sorted the situation out, biting his lower lip as his hand closed around his cock, imagining it was yours. 

"Charles, please," your voice echoed in his mind, and in circumstances where he'd actually slept with you, he would have been ashamed of himself for coming within two minutes. But he felt better and was ready to look you in the eye again after imagining you pressing your tongue flat against the tip of his cock. 

What also helped him keep his blood where it belonged - in his brain - was leaving the bathroom and hearing his British friend's voice. 

He also doesn't know what got into him when he rested his chin on your shoulder to make it clear that you belonged to him. Which, by the way, is not true either. Only a short time ago, he had decided not to let this go any further than a friendship - so why did he feel the need to behave so possessively towards Lando - especially Lando?

Lando, who gave him a hard time for treating you badly. Lando, who Charles knows is only approaching you in a friendly manner because he knows how much you mean to the Monegasque. Lando, who saved your friendship when it was about to shatter into a thousand splinters?

But Charles couldn't help himself. Jesus, he even put his hand on your hip to signal that Lando should please keep his hands off you. Like a horny dog, he had needed to show that you were his. 

And now, as you sit next to each other in your old Renault, he has to clutch the steering wheel so that he doesn't get any ideas about indulging his addiction to your touch. He misses the heat that burns through his skin when you touch him. He doesn't even dare to look in your direction. 

He takes his hand off the gear stick and stretches out his fingers, which have clenched painfully around the plastic, almost steering the car off the road as you place your hand under his to intertwine your fingers. 

His whole body burns as you place your hands in your lap and play with his fingers like it's the most natural thing in the world. As if you weren't just best friends sharing an apartment. As if you hadn't dry humped just a few hours ago. And it takes all his strength not to stop at the next corner and fuck you in the tiny back seat of the car until your lungs are hoarse from screaming.

He concentrates on steering the car properly. He concentrates on the springs he can feel through the thin fabric of the seat. He concentrates on the cracks in the steering wheel that he can feel in his calloused hand.

Charles is so glad to be sitting in the rickety Renault again.

[rovsemyri]

I smoked away my brain..(plug!k.choso) ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚

❄️UP ON MY GUMS , (I THINK THEY GOIN NUMB!)

now playing: demons- a$ap rocky

cw: plug!choso / drug dealer!choso, soft dom!choso, fem!reader, dubcon (kinda; sex under the influence), car sex, praising, riding, pussydrunk chosooo!, plot(kinda?), unprotected sex, creampie ₊˚ෆ₊

synopsis: it’s a friday night after work, you finally have the weekend off! stressed, you decide to call your plug, choso. you met him through one of your closest co-workers, yuiji after finding out he had a brother, since then, I guess you can say that you became choso's favorite customer — ★ (intended lowercase)

levy's note⭒⊹ ࣪ ˖: not my best work (i wrote this while i was high) :( but the show must go on. i had the idea to add visual links but i didn't know if people would be cool wit that, so lmk! tyy :) *there may be spelling errors,etc*

╰⟢ it was a late friday night and you didn’t have work tomorrow, so what did u do? called choso, your plug of course. though he was your drug dealer, you knew him a little bit more than his other customers, might even say, you got special treatment. choso was always laid back, he hated people in his business so not many people knew much about him, you wouldn’t have met him if it weren't for yuiji. 

 when he arrived, you stood outside the car door , just talking for a moment before he asked if you wanted to chill for a bit, suggesting you smoke a few blunts and talk…as you know, he always enjoyed your company. 

“so how you been, ma?” he asks, passing you the blunt as he fights a grin asking you the question. taking it from his hand, you take a pull before answering, “ tired, work has been stressing me out lately, but i’m doing okay” you flash him a small smile before taking another pull from the blunt. “you've been staying after hours, right?” he laughed a little, you could tell he was already buzzed. “you stalking me?” you ask, keeping up the light mood. passing the blunt back to him, your body began to feel heavy. 

“nahh, yuiji told me. the boy never shuts up about you, he’s worried bout you”, he says nonchalantly, taking another hit from the blunt. “you gotta take it easy for realll” his words slowing down a little. you could feel your head start to spin as the car became filled with more and more smoke, making your brain blank a little. “i’m doing fine though! just make sure you tell him to not worry when you get back” you laugh a little at the fact that yuiji worried about you and told his brother. choso takes a few pulls before outing the blunt. “you ain’t fine, you just said you was stressed” his words slur a little, the bud getting to his head. “ know i had smoke with you real quick, mama” he says with a grin on his face, pulling out another pre-rolled blunt, passing it to you with his lighter.

“being generous tonight, cho?” you smile at him, lighting the next blunt. “ you said you were stressed…you know i gotchu.” he says looking at you with a soft expression, making eye contact you try to avert your eyes. though choso was your friend’s brother you couldn’t help but admit he was so fucking hot. he was the quiet type, never spoke too much about himself or his life, he was a chill type of guy. that's what made you take interest in him, he was a mystery, really. 

you continue to spend the night just talking, getting things off your mind. choso was always a good listener and it seemed like he loved to listen to you talk. you could sometimes feel the way his eyes are glued to your lips as you're talking…or when he thinks you're not looking, you could feel the way his low eyes trace your figure as you tell him about what's going on. your mind gets more and more intoxicated as the rotation continues several times, somehow he’s still going, waiting for you to tap out or break the box. 

it's getting later as you both continue to talk, rotation going back forth as well, reminiscing about the past you both giggle and laugh. the euphoric feeling takes over your body, you haven’t felt this high in a really long time, you almost feel yourself twitching. choso lets out a soft laugh before passing the blunt back to you, his eyes low and red. “hmmph, cho, you’re not tapping out yet?” you pout giving him a playful hit on his arm before taking the blunt from his slender fingers. “think you could out smoke me, baby?” his tone lowers, a grin plastered on his face, laying back in his seat he watches as you look surprised at the name he called you. 

“of course i can!” you reply quickly with a smile on your face. “what you suggestin’ , girl? we try?” he says, his words slow and slurred, looking up at you making eye contact with you. 

you tried to avoid his eyes as you took another hit from the blunt, you couldn’t help but think about how hot he looked when he was high, you thought maybe shit was just getting to your head. 

“why you keep lookin’ away from me, ma?” he couldn’t help but laugh a little, clearly intoxicated. he passes you another blunt again with his lighter, willing to give into your little game. you kill off the blunt before looking at him, taking the next blunt from him to light , he couldn't help but smile. you could tell choso was on a different planet at the moment but you both felt the tension. “ you're gonna regret this, baby. you can’t out-smoke me” his tone was lower than before. you laugh, exhaling before passing it back to him.” you said you were being generous tonight, right cho?” you tease him, thinking that he’ll tap out sooner or later. the rotation continued.

and somehow, you find yourself in the backseat of choso’s car, the two front seats pushed back, making enough space for you to be perfectly sat on top of him. one hand on your hips, gripping them firmly. His shirt and your clothes are discarded and thrown onto the dashboard of the car and on the car floor. your chest pressed against his as he has one hand harshly holding down your hips on top of him, and the other around your neck. smashing his lips onto yours as the hand on your neck slightly tightened as it guided you to keep up with how he was moving. 

his kisses become sloppier by the minute as you grant his tongue access to yours, before he pulls away, loosening the grip on your neck and allowing you to catch your breath. “this is what ya’ get, baby” he groans, his gaze focused on the way your body looked as you were on top of him, trying to catch your breath. you couldn’t help but take a minute to breathe, his hands traveling to your lower body. his two large hands on your hips, gripping them firmly, slightly pushing your clothed cunt against his tightening bulge, his jeans unbuckled & pushed down far enough to reveal the wet spot forming in his boxers..“cmonn, please help me, baby” choso whined, guiding your hips to grind against his bulge through your soaked panties. . “choso, you’re just really high right now, relax” you pat his head before looking down at him, your hands on his shoulders. 

he groans, throwing his head back before pulling you closer to his chest. “fuck, i’m so impatient, girl” he whines, burying his face into your neck. one of the hands-on your hips now placed on ur neck, you almost gasp at the feeling of the slightly tight grip on your neck “cho.. take it easy on me” you choke out trying to keep yourself composed as you could feel how hard the poor boy was under you. 

planting wet kisses and leaving deep shades of red and purple on your neck, you bite your tongue to hold back the small yelps that almost escape your lips each time you feel his teeth gently sink into the sensitive spots of your neck

poor thing, he couldn’t help but think about how badly he wanted to stuff your tight cunt. his head spinning and low eyes making it worse, he needed it. 

“please let me fuck you, baby” he whines into your neck, he couldn’t take it anymore. he barely waits for you to nod before choso let’s out a soft growl, growing needier by the moment, one of his hands moving away from your hips. slowly moving down to your panties.

he brushes his thumb over your clit, “just the tip baby, I promise” he whines, looking up at you with his low red eyes, moving your panties to the side , “promise??” you move one of your hands down to his erection, freeing them from his boxers. “promise, doll face” he says, lining himself up with you, his hands digging into your soft hips. 

you choke back a moan as the tip of his cock enters your soaking cunt. a loud whimper escapes his lips as he throws his head back. he couldn’t take it , your tight cunt was squeezing his leaking tip. he wanted to see how you’d take him sooo bad. 

 “fuck- i’m s-sorry ma but-“ he manages to say through his sped up breathing before roughly pushing your hips down, your cunt stretching around him as he throws his head back in pleasure. “chosoo, you p-promised” you moan loudly. “sorry baby, take it for me… please?” he almost finds himself begging. 

his rough hands hold your body up, rutting his hips into you at a slow but steady pace, allowing you to get used to the feeling, kissing your cervix each time he comes back down. bouncing yourself back on him, one of his hands cup your face forcing you to look at him with your teary eyes. 

he couldn’t help himself from taking in every part of you. he loved watching the way you tried to hide the way your facial expression changed each time his tip hit the right spot. admiring the pretty sounds you made for him and only him to hear. he loved knowing that he was the one relieving your stress. 

““fuckkk .. you move your hips so well. keep riding me s-so fucking good.” he moans loudly before pulling you closer to him. you could swear his voice was louder than yours but he just couldn’t help it. 

you feel the tears well up in your eyes as his pace begins to quicken, pounding into you, the vibrations riding along your sensitive clit making you moan louder with pleasure. “-- ngh! feels good .. s-so good,” you babble, your body getting tired, you lean on his chest for more support. 

your nails digging into his back, the pain almost giving him more energy, he pounds into you harder making the sounds you were making impossible to suppress. you feel the knots in your stomach tighten. 

“c-cumming—m’ gonna c-cum mmph!!” you whine, 

“ cmon baby,, cum on my dick m’ almost there” he groans in your ear as you grip his shoulders tighter. you feel a euphoric wave overtake your body as he continues to chase his high, fucking you through your orgasm, leaving your legs shaking as he overstimulates your weak spot. 

“fuckfuckfuckfuck!--- p-please take it, princess. m’ right there” he’s at the point of tears. your vision is blurry as you watch as he desperately fucks into you. you weakly push yourself back against him, attempting to help him. 

“i’m cumming, p-please don’t stop” he whines loudly as he continued to fuck into you before feeling his dick twitch inside of you, his breathing became heavier. he buries his face into your neck, whimpering as he paints your tight gummy walls white, riding out his high.

he lifts his head, face stained with tears, he looks at you with low eyes, trying to catch his breath. 

“ think ya got one more fa’ me, princess?” 

[daengtokki]

serial killer!Kim Seungmin/afab reader

WC: ~10k

RATING: mature/explicit/mdni—contains: rough sex, manipulation, strangulation, blood, implied drugging, murder

SYNOPSIS: you walk into Seungmin’s life, and disrupt everything

DEITY INTRO

The smell of smoke reaches his nose, and the craving comes on so suddenly, and so strong…he hates this, not being able to control something so small. He doesn't have much control at all, if he thinks about it. He hasn't had any real control in years—just the illusion of it. The first chance Seungmin gets, he disappears into a convenience store, and he walks back out with a pack of cigarettes clenched in one hand. He bites down on a fresh book of matches as he bounces it against the heel of his palm, eyes still carefully scanning the streets as he unwraps the plastic and pops one between his lips.

The sound of the match against the striker strip is enough to calm his nerves, but the first slow drag quiets his mind and numbs the itch in his limbs. The part of his brain that doesn't shut up when it's time likes to smoke lately, it seems, so he listens. More of his illusion.

Just as he pulls in another lungful, you breeze past him, head down, eyes glued to your phone. Seungmin can see exactly what you're doing—looking at a map as you walk, probably a little lost, and you’re mumbling quietly. Scolding yourself, maybe, but taking your time and obviously trying to keep it together. He wonders just how lost you are, but he doesn't move right away…he’s smarter than that. That itch returns very quickly, despite the cigarette, and his legs shake a little with the anticipation of following behind. Lucky for him, you stop and duck under the awning for some shade, and probably to get your bearings.

He likes the way you look.

You feign confidence, and you really are doing a great job of fitting in and acting like you know where you are—where you need to go. If anyone else was nearby, they wouldn't even suspect you needed help. And you’re pretty. Seungmin thinks you probably don’t know that, not here, so out of your element. You are, though.

Just as he moves to approach you, you lift your gaze, and your eyes find his. Seungmin freezes for a moment, then slowly takes the cigarette from him lips. “Hello,” he smiles and turns away a little to blow out his smoke. “I’m sorry, I can…” he discards it, then turns back, hoping your eyes are still on him.

He was a little rushed this morning, his hair dryer broke, and he spilled an entire iced coffee on his way out the door. Going out today didn’t seem like the best idea, but he figured he would at least make the attempt, and try again tomorrow if he had to. Seungmin is very glad he tried today. You still look up at him with keen, hopeful eyes when he turns to face you again.

“…put this out.” He tries English—it’s the only western language he knows. “Do you need help reading your map?”

Still, you stare…silent. If you don’t speak English or Korean, he’s out of luck, and he’ll have to drag himself back home, alone, and crawl into bed until tomorrow.

“Yes…thank you”

He sighs internally, and smiles softly at you. Once again, his looks (and his fluent English) get him what he wants. Seungmin doubts you would have taken the help if that first look didn't get something moving in you. He could see it in your eyes. “Where are you headed? I might be more useful than that map.”

Still, you hesitate for a brief moment, “...my apartment. I took the bus, and I missed it coming back. But I think I’m almost there. I’m just a little anxious, and I’m being stupid…”

“No, you’re not. Have you been here long? In Seoul?”

“About a week”

“No, not stupid. What’s the address?”

/ / /

“Stay close, we can probably get the whole way across.” He looks back at you, and slows enough for you to catch up to his long strides. “No, maybe not,” he takes your wrist in his hand, and it’s unnecessary, because you stop with him. It’s a good start…the first touch. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you glance at him, and then to his hand wrapped around you, “I think I know where I’m at now.”

“You think?”

“I think”

“I’ll take you to your building. You don’t have to invite me up…promise.”

It’s another two blocks before you finally see it, and the sight of it is a relief. Seungmin can almost feel the tension leave your body as you approach it, but there’s a long moment of silence between you when you finally get there.

Eventually, you unfreeze yourself and speak,“thank you for your help…uh, what should I call you?”

“Thank you for letting me help. You can call me Seungmin.” He smiles shyly when he says his name.

“Seungmin, is it okay if do?”

“Do what?” He already knows what you’re getting at, but he cocks his head and bites his lip.

“Invite you up. I’m sure you have better things to do, though.”

Seungmin loves the flush in your cheeks when you ask. The nervous energy that left you returns, and it gets his blood pumping everywhere it needs to—his heartbeat jumps, and he hopes his cheeks pink up a little bit, too. “No, that’s been my best offer all day.” He knows he can’t do anything here, but this is also an unusual feeling—visiting the home of a potential victim. It's not necessary, and it's very personal...and it's a little bit awkward.

“This is cute.” Seungmin stands in one spot, and examines the tiny apartment. It’s simple, and still a little plain, but you’ve barely had time to settle. He can picture the twin size bed you’re sleeping on, and how the two of you would barely fit; the commotion you’d make…the mess. The thought sends a jolt of pleasure through him, and he feels himself getting hard as he watches you stare so intensely.

“What?” He smirks. You smile back, so Seungmin lets his grow a little wider.

“Do you want some coffee? You look like a coffee person.”

“I am, I would love some”

/ / /

“You’re a long way from home,” Seungmin says over the rim of his mug, casually scanning every part of you as he does—your bare feet shuffling on the area rug; your legs, easy to admire in the tight leggings you’re wearing; body sinking comfortably into the squishy couch. He sits up and turns himself toward you a little more. “May I ask why?”

“Work. But I think I’m very under-qualified for the position…I took it to get away from my old life, and my ex.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Bad breakup?”

“Bad enough…I’m sure things could’ve been worse”

If he can find out when the break-up happened, Seungmin can figure out just how vulnerable you still are. “If it was worth coming this far, I’m sure it was bad.” Reaching out right now and grabbing your throat would be so, so easy. It would be nothing; his hands would wrap perfectly around your delicate neck. He can almost feel the snap of your hyoid, your pulse as it speeds up; slows down; stops completely. Vulnerable, but still guarded—soft, sad eyes, and nervous fingers tapping against the mug, turned slightly away from him.

Still, when you look at him again, you light up a little. “My turn…what were you doing smoking outside a GS25 all alone this morning? I’m very glad you were there…just curious.”

“Oh…” Seungmin actually laughs at that—a genuine laugh. He wasn’t prepared for such a blunt question. “People watching, I guess. I like to observe.” He notices your eyes wondering over him, the same as he did to you, only you’re a lot little less subtle about it. “What is it?”

“What do you do for a living?”

A living. What does he do for a living? He doesn’t do anything except survive day to day within his careful, tedious routine. He’s a trust-fund baby, thank god. Seungmin can’t imagine having to work a day job, deal with the public, wear a mask every moment of the day just to get by.

“I make music…write, produce. Independently. Nothing major, but it pays the bills.” It’s not his usual lie, but it seems fitting for you. It’s not even a lie, because Seungmin does make music—music that has ever seen the light of day.

“You sing?”

Seungmin nods, puts on another shy smile for you. “Yeah, I do. Mostly for myself, though.” He’s not used to fielding so many personal questions so quickly, because by now, someone has their mouth on something. Or something in it. The thought gives him another twinge in his groin, and he almost whines along with his sigh.

Now is probably a good time to get more information, but his dick continues to distract him. “Uhm, what was your promotion? What do you do?” Not this information, but he has to start somewhere.

“Nothing very exciting. Customer relations for a cosmetics company. I don’t like it very much, but it pays well enough, and I’m here now.”

“Is that where you went this morning?” It’s almost too nosy, but he goes with it. “Sorry, that’s not really my business.”

“No, it’s okay. I was coming back from Dongguk University. I’m taking language classes."

He takes the opportunity to switch to Korean, “good…so you don’t speak any Korean?”

And all you can do is stare back, clueless. “I think I caught a word,” you laugh when he grins at you.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you”

An exchange of phone numbers, the promise of dinner, and Seungmin is on his way back home. Empty handed, yes, but he already has a plan unfolding in his mind. A few times before, he’s deliberately taken his time—did the cat and mouse thing, or more appropriately for him, a dog with a bone. It’s usually not by choice, though. He may have to find another in the meantime; something quick and easy to hold him over. Rushing things with you won't satisfy him.

“Wow, this is…great,” the girl turns and gives Seungmin a heavy, confident look. She only has one thing on her mind, but he’s alright with getting straight to the point. “How about the bedroom?” So why does the eagerness almost turn him off? It’s a stark contrast to what you just gave him, and to what anyone else ever gives him. The dates he picks up don’t want coffee and conversation.

There is no foreplay—not a single touch until his pants are undone and on the floor, but she goes for his shirt, and Seungmin grabs for her wandering hands.

“What’s wrong…self-conscious?” She slips one under and runs her fingertips across his ribs.

He has to tilt his head to the side to avoid her lips. “No, I’m not.”

“You are a little skinny, but that’s okay”

The gasp the girl makes when he grabs the side of her neck, the little bit of fear in her eyes, is what finally gets him completely hard. He squeezes, just enough to not be threatening, and she relaxes for a moment.

“Sorry…sorry, just teasing,” she smiles a little, and her eyes dart from the window, and then back to him.

“Get on your knees”

She does so without hesitation, but Seungmin turns and walks away before she has a chance to touch again. There wasn’t much prep for this, so he has to be careful, and he has to be quiet, so he stares absently into the drawer of his bedside table for a few long moments. Handcuffs could be helpful, but the gag might be even better. He opts for the handcuffs, and when the girl sees them dangling from his finger, she smiles. “Okay, I like kinky…are those for me?”

Seungmin nods, and very gently secures one of her wrists. The other end snaps around the bedpost. Now she reaches her free hand toward him and gets a handful of dick, and he lets her touch.

“Are you gonna be a tease now? Take these off.”

A hand comes down fast, and again she gasps as he tightens his grip around her throat. She grabs for him and claws at his skin, but it does nothing. His grip still tightens, even as her nails cut and a thin line of blood starts to form. Seungmin relaxes, and then lets go.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She coughs and pulls at the cuff, but it's not going anywhere. “Get this off of me. Now."

None of this is new for him, and most of the time, his jobs aren't easy. Last time, he was lucky. "No," Seungmin laughs and pulls his shirt over his head, but just as he's about to return to his drawer for something new, he hears his phone buzz in the pocket of his discarded jeans.

"Take these off…please"

"Not yet, relax"

"But you will? What are you gonna do? I'm sorry I teased you…please, you can do whatever you want, but—"

"But? I can do whatever I want, but what?"

The fear in her eyes is enough of an answer, but another buzz of his phone distracts her for the briefest moment. "Please let me go. We can just pretend this never happened.”

Seungmin goes for his phone this time, "no, I don’t do that," and stares at the number for a few seconds before recognizing it, because he didn't add you to his contacts. He's not even sure he should.

Hi! I just wanted to thank you again for being so kind. I haven't had any really nice interactions with anyone until I met you today. And there is a place a block way from me that I've been wanting to try since I got here, if you're still interested.

Seungmin doesn't catch himself grinning, but his guest does. "Good news?" She asks. "Look, this was just a date gone bad. I'm not into whatever kinky shit you're into.”

He's bored. To be honest, he's been bored since he got this girl back to the apartment, so this may not do the job as well as he was expecting—he’s already starting to get soft. But letting someone go? Seungmin doesn't do that. The phone gets tossed onto the bed as he makes his way back to his drawer, and this time, he knows what he needs. The girl gasps and screams as soon as she sees the glint of the blade against the lamplight—the gag definitly would have helped, but it's too late now. The neighbors are mosty likely at work, at least.

The rattle of the cuffs against the bedpost is annoying, and Seungmin thinks for a moment that it might actually break. "You need to relax, and you need to be quiet. This…" he gestures to her antics, "this is not helping either of us."

"Fuck you, you're gonna burn in hell"

That's the last thing she says. There is one more reach, and one more scratch of her nails (right across his cheek), but she gives in as soon as the knife slides neatly between her ribs. One last hitch in her throat, one last exhale, and the light fades from her eyes. Exactly what he needed.

"I know"

/ / /

I am still interested. I wonder if we're thinking of the same place.

He sends that off and thinks, but the first text is more of a challenge to acknowledge.

I'm glad I could be your first.

It doesn't sound quite right to him, but maybe that's a good thing. He sends that, too.

Now he looks to the lifeless body on his floor. The blood has soaked through her clothes, and onto the area rug where she was kneeling. Seungmin suddenly remembers why he hates doing things this way. Okay, no blood for a while, he thinks as he begins to conceal the body. He has a long day ahead of him now.

The week passes slowly, and Seungmin spends it hidden away in his bedroom. He wrote a little, and he forced himself to sing last night, but aside from that, he's just existed beneath the warmth of his blankets. One more text came from you a few days ago, but he hasn't bothered looking at it yet. Ignoring his phone has been a test for himself, and he has done pretty well at not thinking about what you said.

That can't last forever, though. Seungmin doesn't think you're going to lose interest that easily. He knows you won't. And besides, he's hungry. It's time to get out of bed.

I'm free all day on Thursday

Fuck, today is Thursday. Seungmin sits up in bed and stares at the screen, thinks…wonders if chasing you will be worth it in the end. What if he spends all of this time on you, and it doesn’t fill the need he’s expecting it to? What if it’s just like the last one? He starts to type.

I am free today. I'm sorry I took so long to reply. I understand if you made other plans.

No, it can’t be as bad as that one.

Lunch. Maybe a walk, if it's not to cold for you. Back to the apartment. It's not time, though. The feeling hasn't quite returned yet, and it won't feel right if he does this now. Maybe today isn't the day.

I'm still free. Let me know when!

But lunch wouldn't hurt. Seungmin needs you here, in this apartment, if he's going to do this right. He needs you comfortable with him.

I can get dressed and head to your building. Half an hour? Meet me outside.

/ / /

You dressed up for him. He's still a half a block away, and you’re turned in the opposite direction, but he can tell that you put some thought and effort into your outfit. Seungmin looks the same as he typically does; black jeans, black sneakers, a Carhartt jacket over a loose fitting t-shirt. Not much effort, really, but…

"Hi!" You examine him, not so subtly, starting from his dark parted hair, all the way down his long, slender legs. The smile on your face grows when you meet his eyes again. "How was your walk?"

Now it's beginning to feel like a date, and it’s very obvious that you’re attracted to him. There’s no doubt you would’ve looked at him the same had he arrived in the sweatpants he had on in bed this morning. "Very nice. How was the trip from your apartment?"

Seungmin gets a genuine laugh out of you. “It was great, I was very excited to get down here and see you.”

Excited to see him. Okay. Seungmin is used to the attention, but he isn’t as used to the cute, innocent flirting. He sees your cheeks blush before you drop your gaze.

“You lead the way”

He nods, and brushes by you very gently.

Lunch is perfectly normal; a real date. Seungmin learns a little more about you, and you learn a few more exaggerated, somewhat true things about him. The breakup between you and your ex was recent—only six weeks ago. The move was actually the catalyst for ending things. You confessed to him that you’re still unsure if it was the right thing to do, but you are beginning to like living in Seoul already. Maybe because of him. You thanked him again for his help, so Seungmin starts to wonder if simple kindness isn’t something you’re used to. Getting it from him seems a little ironic.

“Would you like to take a walk?” The second part of his plan already seems to be in motion, because you walked right by your building without even realizing. “There’s a nice park I like to visit about a half a mile that way, and a cafe a little closer, actually.”

“Either sounds good"

“Or, my apartment is closer than both. And I have a very nice coffee bar. And a regular bar, if you prefer.”

He hears your soft laugh, and he can picture you blushing again. A no wouldn’t surprise him, though—going straight to his apartment was beginning to feel like a stretch, but he has to ask. After all, you did invite him up fifteen minutes into knowing him.

"Are you gonna make me a homeade latte?"

"Whatever you desire"

/ / /

Seungmin waits for you to give him a surprised look as soon as he leads you through his front door, just like everyone else does, but you don’t. You’re quiet as you take your shoes off and look around, and you don’t make a sound until he speaks up.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get the espresso machine going.”

“You must do good work”

“I wouldn’t say that. My dad left me a lot when he died, so I can’t take any credit for it.” Why did he say that? He had no reason to tell the truth, and yet, it slipped right out.

Now you do give him a look—a sad, apologetic one. “Well, I’m sure you still do good work.”

Seungmin keeps his mouth shut as he flips a switch and grinds the coffee beans. You don’t say anything else, but he watches you watching him carefully from the corner of his eye as he works. He makes one for himself, too, and as he walks to join you, a reflection on the hardwood makes him stop in his tracks. A small, silver earring is shining up at him, and he silently scolds himself for his sloppy cleanup. How did he miss that all week? He did stay in bed for most of that time, but he has never, not once, left something behind. It looks clean, at least...no blood.

“What’s wrong?” You look to where he’s looking, and you see whatever has him frozen. A small silver hoop earring.

“Uh, nothing…” he sets both coffees down on the table and tries to ignore it, but he can’t. Besides, you’ve seen it, and he can’t just leave it there. Seungmin wonders if he left something even more damning in the apartment as he bends to pick it up.

“One of your dates lost something?” You say it casually…just an observation, “I assume you have a lot of them coming and going.” But Seungmin looks ready to defend himself.

“No…no, I don’t. Not that often, really.” He slips it into his pocket. “How is your drink. I can make another if it’s not quite right.”

“It looks good,” you pick it up and hold it under your nose, “smells good,” and take a slow, careful sip. It’s hot, but just the right amount of hot. “It’s very good, thank you.”

He sits down, and his knee grazes against yours. You hold still and watch his hand run down his thigh, follow his arm up to his shoulder—to his neck, where his loose t-shirt reveals some collarbone, soft and tan. Seungmin is staring right through you, and he doesn't seem to realize it. The movement of his eyes is hypnotizing, and they're so big and dark, you feel like they could swallow you whole.

Just when you think he's going to reach for his coffee, his hand lifts toward you, and everything moves in slow motion—Seungmin's tongue pokes out to wet his lips, he bites down on it a little…and his fingertips just barely graze the far side of your neck.

You shake free of your trance and move back.

"Sorry"

"It's alright," you take another long sip of your coffee and avoid his gaze, but you can feel him staring at you. Hard. You look around his big, well decorated apartment and suddenly wonder how you ended up here with a man you hardly know, inches from him, his eyes eating away at you.

He's not sure why he went for that touch. Curiousity, maybe. Your skin looks soft, it is soft, and though he has no overwhelming urges at the moment, he still wants to to know how your skin feels squeezed against his palms, and pinched between his fingers. The image gives him a pleasant twinge in his stomach, and he doesn't even think about the possibility of his dick growing in his jeans right here and now. Today, nothing will happen, and if he scares you off now, he’ll never get you here alone again. It’s not a risk worth taking.

“I am…please forgive me. I don’t know why I did that. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I don’t.” It’s a little bit of a lie, but he seems sincere. It’s easier to relax and take a deep breath now that he’s up and making a little bit of distance between you. Still, you admire him from this angle—his long, slender legs, perfect in proportion to the rest of him. Broad shoulders, and a strong looking back that you can see when the light hits his white t-shirt just right.

His face is soft, his jaw is strong, and his skin pretty, but not quite perfect. Seungmin looks like a piece of art come to life, and he’s here with to you. Talking to you. Staring at you. Reaching out to touch you.

There has to be something wrong with him.

“Are you okay?”

“Hm? Yes, I’m okay”

“I asked if you wanted to see the balcony”

There is no doubt he caught you admiring him. The grin on his face warms your cheeks…it warms your entire body. “Yeah, sure”

The balcony is in his bedroom.

Very cautiously, you walk through the doorway, but you’re not sure why you’re still on edge. So far, Seungmin has been sweet and thoughtful…maybe a little odd, but not so odd that it should concern you. Regardless of how handsome he is, maybe he really doesn’t go on many dates, or even get out of this apartment very often…his room is dark and moody, maybe more of a reflection of his mind than anything else in the apartment. Everything looks expensive—the high windows, the lighting, the music equipment in the corner. His bed is oversized and covered in soft pillows, and an old stuffed dog sits right in the middle. It looks like it’s seen better days. Seungmin doesn’t stop to show you around, though. He heads straight for the balcony.

“You’re not afraid of heights?”

You shake your head.

“Good. It’s a nice view.”

It is a nice view, because he’s almost at the very top. The wind gusts a few times as you stand there, and the air is chilly, but Seungmin stands to your side and blocks most of it. His eyes burn into you again, and you’re starting to like it.

“I should probably go.” Another lie. There is no reason to leave, and you don’t want to, but if you do stay, something will certainly happen.

“Oh, of course…I can call a ride for you”

And you want something to happen. Being in his room, within falling distance of his bed, is driving you a little bit crazy. His big, soft eyes are driving you crazy. But you barely know him, and you’ve barely settled into your new life. Feeling vulnerable isn’t new, but you’re extra vulnerable right now, and you know what can happen when you feel that way.

/ / /

Someone else will come along, and he’ll be fine. Eventually, he’ll come across another perfect one, and when he does, he won’t drag his feet and fuck things up. You were right here, inches from him…more than within reach, and Seungmin is not used to failing at getting his way. Maybe he missed something. Seungmin isn’t completely aloof when it comes to emotions and reading them on people, but he doesn’t typically bother with it, and he isn’t the best at it.

Fortunately, he doesn't have to dwell on it too long. You send him a text right before he begins to doze off that night...

Thank you for lunch today, and the walk…and coffee. Sorry I ended everything so quickly, it was nothing personal. I would like to see you again.

Okay, everything is fine. Just a little overreaction on his part. He just…scared you off? Came on a little too strong with the neck touch, more than likely. It didn't seem like much, but you're obviously a little reticent.

I would like to see you again

No reply to that, but a heart pops up next to his message after it sends.

He drags himself to the other end of the street, but he's tired. Sleep hasn't come easily the past few days, and the nightmares that come and go have returned…the same ones—the old shed, the soft, rain soaked ground, and the earth covering his father's hands when he reaches out for Seungmin. There's more, so much more, but it always comes in pieces. Maybe tonight he'll get another piece.

For now he focuses on the woman entering the bar, and he's certain he's going to lose her in there on a busy Saturday night. The urges have returned, and the sleepless nights haven't made things any easier, so he has to do something, and this half-hearted chase helps a litte bit. You haven't said a word since Thursday, and if you don't by tomorrow morning, he might just come and find you himself. If that's the case, he doesn't even need to pursue this one—he can go back home, take a hot shower, make a strong drink, and finish his nightmare.

“Seungmin?”

His heart jumps into his throat.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you”

It’s you. It’s your soft, lilting voice, and your pleasant accent. He turns and your eyes connect, but his heart still continues to pound. “Hi, what are doing so far from home?” Very far. He ventured a little further out of his comfort zone this time around. Running into you this far from home can't be a coincidence, even if Seungmin doesn't believe in things like that.

“You first”

“Oh, uh…trying to be social, I guess”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me the truth.” You smile at his smirk. “A few of my classmates dragged me along, but I’m over it already. I don’t usually stay up this late.”

“I can ride home with you, if you’d like. Unless I can convince you to have a drink with me first.”

You think about it, but not for very long. Part of you wants to make up for last time, and for struggling to text him back. “Yes to both. Can we try a different bar?” The other part wants to remain strong.

“Of course, anything you want”

“Your bar?”

But the former part is bigger.

It's a quiet ride back to his place, but it's not an awkward quiet. Seungmin is relaxed, body turned sightly toward you, and you can tell he's watching every subtle movement you make; the fidgeting of your fingers, and the bounce of your knee, the occasional shift to adjust yourself and pull at your sweater. You can't quite figure out what he seems to see in you, and maybe that's part of your hesitation—being a clueless foreigner with a native drinking up every little thing, emphasis on little, that you have to you offer.

He walks ahead of you as you head for the elevator, and it's another opportunity to look at him in the harsh light. The leather jacket he's wearing is a bit big, but it doesn't hide the broadness of his shoulders. Just as you move your eyes down, he begins to take it off and reveal even more. His muscles move delicately beneath the black t-shirt as it slides down his arms, this time a more form-fitting one, tucked loosely into his black jeans. Tiny waist, narrow hips, but just enough ass to grab.

The elevator opens and he turns to you, "don't worry, I won’t keep you up too late."

When you arrived, he did all of the things guy's don't actually do on your dates: pay for the ride, open the door, hold a hand out for you. It was a little bit cheesy, but you're not going to complain about his good manners.

"Do you mind if I change? I can smell the smoke on me."

You shake your head at him, make yourself comfortable on the couch, and listen carefully as he moves around in his bedroom…the slide of a drawer, a door softly opening and closing. He's not in there long, and when he comes out, he looks like a different person.

Seungmin’s face is so striking, and it’s like that no matter what he does to his hair, but he definitely combed everything back with his fingers while he changed. It’s parted just off to the side and pushed away from his eyes, save for a few lose strands, and his eyes are so pretty and intense. The outfit is completely different—a loose fitting t-shirt, a thin white one this time, and sweatpants. It looks so out of place, because the three times you’ve seen him, he was dressed a little more than casual.

A silver Chanel necklace still hangs around his neck, and you wonder if he just forgot about it. “Better?” You stand and take a step toward him, he moves a little closer, but heads toward his small, but elaborate bar.

“Yeah,” he smiles and beckons you . “What do you like to drink?”

“What do you think I like?”

“Oh…good question, let me think,” he very patiently scans over his selection…

Ice in the shaker, cherry soju, coconut vodka—he gives it a shake, never breaking eye contact until he has to grab a glass and pour—he stops and looks around, thinks, then grabs another bottle from under the bar. As soon as he twists the cap off, the sweet smell hits you. Seungmin tops it off with cream soda, and drops in a cherry before sliding it toward you. Then he pours some for himself, minus the soda.

“Is this me as a cocktail?”

He sips his, and you can hear a little laugh from behind the glass. “First impression? Yeah. Is it good?”

“It’s good, it’s sweet…goes down easy”

“Oh, I hope so”

The whole room warms. You feel like you’re on fire. You know you’re blushing, and you might even be grinning like an idiot, but you can’t pull yourself away from his stare. Seungmin bites down on his bottom lip and a smirk slowly tugs at his mouth, and it’s now that you notice how plump and red his lips are. His cheeks turn a little pink, too.

All you can do is clear your throat and shift in the bar stool, but thankfully, Seungmin still has the reigns. He finishes his drink in one swift movement, and you take one more sip as he rounds the bar. The warmth of his hand on your thigh, you do feel that, but everything else is either numb or pulsing with nervous excitement. He spins you to face him, but his hand doesn’t move—it squeezes as he leans in and whispers in your ear.

“Stop fighting against it…just…” he sighs, and it turns to a soft moan. You feel like you could melt right out of this stool and onto the floor. “Don’t make me beg.”

Fuck, your mind went from nothing to everything you want him to do to you, and everything you’ve been wanting to do to him. But you haven’t done anything yet, and you don’t have to. Seungmin hasn’t come off as that type, but god…the way he’s looking at you and gripping your leg. He gently pushes your thighs apart until he can put himself between them, and your eyes drop to the growing bulge in his sweatpants.

“Seungmin…uh, fuck…um”

“What? Look at me. Eyes up here.”

The ease at which he makes you listen is surprising. He has you now. The smoke-tinged smell of his skin, the vanilla of his cologne, and the sweet smell of booze on his lips. His eyes soften, and you can’t even begin to imagine resisting that look—from here you can see the little bit of black eyeliner starting to smudge. You don’t even feel yourself reach up and wipe your thumb at the corner of his eye, not until he smiles and wraps his fingers around your wrist.

“I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you what you need.”

No answer will come out, so you squeeze your thighs and hope he can read the look in your eyes. He does. Seungmin grabs your hips and pulls your body into his, lifts you, and doesn’t hesitate once he has you in his arms. He turns and takes you right into the bedroom, and the feeling of being outside of your body is intense. You can feel your legs wrapped tight around his hips, and your arms clinging to his shoulders…you can hear his soft grunts as he keeps you steady against him. He pulls you close right before he drops you, and you get a taste of his skin before you hit the bed.

“Keep your eyes on me”

He pulls his shirt over his head, and you study every inch of him while you can. A long, lean torso—his muscles underneath flex with every shallow breath; his bare shoulders—you count every freckle as your eyes move down his arms; his hands grab his waistband and pull, and his cock bounces out, bigger than anything you’ve taken before, and you’re not even sure he’s fully hard yet.

Seungmin laughs at your reaction. “I’m usually a little more subtle…but,” he stops and looks you over, and his voice turns so sweet, “take something off for me. Please.” He’s never this needy, and he doesn’t usually move so fast, but he’s aching for it. Nine days of teasing him was far too long. “Yeah?,” he purrs as you sit up and slide out of your oversized sweatshirt. “Much better….” He strokes himself as he climbs onto the bed.

As soon as your tank top makes it over your head, and your breasts bounce free, you feel your nipples harden even more. Seungmin groans like a horny teenager. “Good…lie back for me.”

The steadiness of his hands is what you expect from him, though. You know he’s experienced, and you know he wants all the control. He unbuttons the skirt and pulls, leaving you in nothing but your panties—you wore cute ones, the lacy ones, just because. Of course you weren’t expecting to get anything tonight, but you’re so glad you did when you see Seungmin smiling at them…but then he snaps out of his trance.

Fuck, he mumbles and moves back. You watch him hop off the bed, and take another chance to admire his naked body, but he doesn't take long getting into his drawer, grabbing something, and returning to you. The condom is out and on him before you even realize what he was doing, and your panties are gripped and pulled down.

"Open up for me," he coaxes your shy legs apart until he has an eyeful of your throbbing, swollen cunt—good—and his tongue slides hungrily into you, making you gasp. "Soaking wet for me already?" Seungmin looks at you for an answer.

You nod and cautiously run your fingers through his hair, and he leans into it before getting back to work, but he just teases you. Licking and sucking just enough to make your hips move against him for more. You relax and enjoy it while you look around the dark room. The curtains are pulled shut, but you can see a little slice of city through the balcony's sliding door. The built-in shelves in the corner are over flowing with books, records, little trinkets you can't quite make out. There’s a bouquet of fresh purple flowers poking out just enough to see. You reach up and slide your hand across a silky pillow, and your fngers close around it.

"Oh…right there," you whine and take another fistful of hair. "Seungmin, god."

He laughs again, takes your words to heart, and doesn't hold back.

Your eyes squeeze shut, and you try hard to keep your body relaxed as he works, but all you want to do is thrust into him, make more fiction…finish…come hard. Seungmin moans and the vibration runs through you.

"Fuck”

He stops, and lifts his mouth off of you completely…

"No…please"

…and he laughs. "Not yet, not yet."

"So mean," you whimper, "why…"

You force your legs closed, but Seungmin doesn't like that. He grabs each knee and spreads you open again, and he slides himself between your thighs until his cock grazes your sensitive clit.

“Relax…” he comes down and bites the skin on your hip.

“I am,” you lie back and look to your left this time; at the desk, the instruments, everything he uses for work. The bedside table is bare except for a lamp, a pair of glasses you’ve never seen him in, and a silver bracelet…it matches the necklace you feel tickling you as he moves his lips up your body. “I am.” Your fingers tangle in his hair as he gets closer and closer to your throat, your neck. He bites down gently, and the pressure as he pushes himself in is so much more than you prepared for. He doesn’t tease—but he does at least take his time. After a few patient movements, he pushes in, and you whine in pain as he moans in pleasure, pulls out, laughs softly as he pushes in. Again and again.

“Fuck, you feel good”

“Slower…slow down,” your own voice echoes in your head, and you don’t feel like you’re all there. But you watched him make your drink, and he didn’t put anything in it. It’s stupid, but maybe it’s just him, and this room.

“Slow down? Oh, I’m hurting you.” He pushes in and stops, “I don’t wanna hurt you, but...you look so good stretched around my cock,” and pulls out carefully, “so wet.”

“You’re not hurting me…”

“I am”

It takes so much restraint, but Seungmin listens to you, and he’s patient as he pumps in and out. Every few strokes, he moves a little faster, and he knows he finally finds a good pace when you whine for him and squeeze his arms.

“Yeah, you like that?” He whispers and you nod, “you take it so well, fuck.”

His gentle affirmations keep you wet, and the sound you make together, the mess of arousal dripping out of you as he works—Seungmin pushes your thighs apart and takes in every little detail.

It does hurt, and it feels so good at the same time. “Please…”

The soft movements of your breasts distract him, and he takes them in his hands and squeezes. The look on his face is dazed, so full of pleasure. So lost.

“…don’t stop.”

"No." He’s not stopping anytime soon, not when it feels this good. “No, I’m not,” Seungmin speeds up, "I'm gonna break you in two," and slams hard into you, and no, he doesn’t stop, even when you cry out in pain. One hand falls down on your mouth, and the other pushes your shoulder into the bed, making you scream out again, but it’s muffled by his palm.

Your hands jump up and squeezes his forearm, and the other scratches at the hand covering your mouth. You can still breathe through your nose, but just barely. Seungmin doesn’t relax, and he doesn’t let up when you grab his side and dig in. Everything goes numb, but your skin prickles with goosebumps. You’re outside of your body again, looking down at the struggle, and the ceaseless pounding of his hips against yours. Every move he makes knocks even more air out of your lungs. Maybe if he comes, he’ll stop, or at least loosen his hand and let more air into your lungs. Time slows down, and lights pop up in your vision. You’re getting dizzy, and your heart was threatening to explode before he attempted to stifle your moans. Your chest starts to burn as you exhaust yourself.

There’s nothing you can do. Seungmin is stronger than he looks. Fingers squeeze into his arms one last time before the feeling disappears, and you think he finishes just as you let the rest of your body relax. Sleeping, that’s what this feels like. Falling asleep…feeling so tired you can’t possibly keep your eyes open any longer. Something in you needs to say his name one last time when the pressure of his hand is finally gone, but so are you.

/ / /

Seungmin can barely hold his body up, because he can’t remember the last time sex felt that good; the last time he came so hard. It takes a moment for enough blood to return to his brain, and for the post-orgasm bliss to subside enough that he can speak, but when he does, he finally realizes how silent you are.

“Hey, sweetheart…look at me,” he runs a soft thumb across your brow, and wipes away a stray tear running down your temple. Seungmin freezes, and the air catches in his throat. “Open your eyes,” he whispers, taps your pink cheek, and caresses it with a softness he isn’t used to giving out. Nothing happens. He pulls at your chin until your lips part to listen for the movement of air. Still nothing. “Fuck.” The shakiness of his voice surprises him. He climbs off of you and collapses onto his pillows, but his eyes don’t leave your still body. “I didn’t. You fucking idiot, you didn’t…” he’s up again and walking on unsteady legs, still weak from the exertion. Back in his sweatpants, Seungmin climbs onto the bed again and straddles your waist. Your cheeks are still flushed, and your lips, also still very alive looking, stay ever so slightly parted. Still, no air passes through them. He knows his own strength, and he prides himself on his control, but sometimes he does lose himself in the moment. But he kept his hands away from your neck. He very specifically forced that on himself, because this wasn’t the plan tonight.

“Hey,” he moves a piece of hair away from your damp forehead, places his lips against yours for the very first time, and he fills your lungs with air. Once…twice. Nothing. He tries one more time, and after, kisses you softly before returning to his spot on his pillows. The puppy plush falls onto his lap, and he grabs it, “you see that, Daengmo?” he says, and points its face toward you, “I still can’t do anything right.”

The first gasp for air feels like nothing—a useless, struggling breath like you’re still trapped underwater, but your eyes somehow open and see nothing but a blue tinted darkness. Hands clench something soft and slick…silky. Still corporeal after death, that’s the only thought you can create. The second breath fills your lungs and you cough it out, hard. So hard you sit up, and he’s there, holding your face, whispering your name. You try to push back, but you don’t think you actually move. Seungmin’s grip tightens on your shoulder, and he lets you fall back on the bed.

“Stay awake for me,” he says.

“No…no, stop”

“I’m not going to hurt you…I promise”

“Seung—” you feel yourself slipping again, and then his hand is on your bare chest, sliding up and down your sternum. It feels good, and you finally feel like you might be alive. “Seungmin?”

“I’m sorry”

And then you’re truly awake. The memory hits you suddenly—the hand caressing you is the same one that was clamped across your mouth. The other pinned you down onto the bed, and you can feel the sore spot where it's going to bruise. You somehow find the strength to move your arms and pull yourself away, but the burning of your thighs, and the leftover pain from the sex makes you shake and collapse.

Seungmin watches quietly as you scramble back up and gather your discarded clothes.

“You need to lay down. Please, get under the covers and get warm.” He finds your sweater, and holds it hostage. “I know I scared you, I'm—"

“Scared me?” Somehow, you manage to find and slip back into your underwear and tank top, but your skirt is nowhere. Why are you even looking for your clothes? You should have been up and running for the door, but your mind is nothing but static.

“No…I mean, what just happened is not what I intended. I lost myself.”

Finally, you go for the door, clothes or no clothes but it’s, unsurprisingly, locked. That’s an unbreakable habit of Seungmin’s. “Please let me go…please.” As much as you want to cry, nothing happens—but your throat tightens and it’s hard to breathe again, so you do the only thing you have left in you—collapse onto the floor and wait. "This can't be happening, not to me...no, everything felt right," you say to yourself, to the door.

“I can't let you leave, I'm sorry.” He hears himself speak so softly, and it's as if it's coming from someone else, from somewhere else…not him. “You shouldn’t even be here right now. What’s wrong with me?” He mumbles the last part to himself, but it comes out louder than he intends.

You stare wide-eyed at nothing, forehead against the door, breathing deeply as you do everything you can to not have a full-blown panic attack. The adrenaline is quickly running out. But you hear the rustle of blankets and sheets, and then you sense him getting closer. His fingers close around your shoulders, very cautiously, and he pulls you against his chest.

“I’m going to pick you up, okay? And then I’m going to take you to the bed. That's all."

If there’s something you can do to save yourself, you can’t seem to think of it, so you give in and let him put his arms around you. And he does exactly what he says—places you gently in the spot he prepared a moment ago, and then pulls the blankets over you. He moves back a little bit, and stares. The strong, sweet scent of him is all around you now, but you manage to keep your eyes closed and off of him.

“I’ll be right back, I’ll get you some water”

They remain closed until you hear the lock, the door, and then him locking it again from the outside. He won’t be gone long. You’re up and scanning the floor again, trying to remember if you had your phone in your pocket. No…you left it on the bar, right next to your empty glass. The balcony…you have no clue what you expect to find out here, but you go out and look left, and then right. And then 25 stories down. The closet. It's spacious and neat; tshirts, jackets, shoes. The black and white windbreaker he was wearing when you first met him briefly catches your eye, but you close it quietly and head for his bedside table. You heard him slide the drawer open and shut right before he walked out. Maybe there's something in there. “Oh…” The inside of it is neat and organized, just like everything else, so you get to see exactly what’s in there with one quick glance: a small knife, concealed in a black sheath, a few small syringes pre-filled with a milky liquid, handcuffs, nylon rope, a gag…"what the fuck"…lubrication, and several more condoms. “This can’t be happening.” A moment later, the lock clicks again, and without thinking, you grab the knife, quietly close the drawer, and climb back under the covers.

There's a bottle of water under his arm, and a mug in his hand. "I am going to drink some of this so you know I didn't put anything in it…and then I would like you to finish it," He takes a long sip before handing it to you, "The water bottle is unopened, don't worry."

Something is different about him. As soon as you woke up, something felt not quite the same. Even his voice, which was so serious, and a little bit solemn before, seems lighter and higher. You stare into the mug and take a deep breath, smelling the chamomile, the spearmint, and the orange. Seungmin finished nearly half of it.

"I'll take another drink," he holds his hand out for it.

"No…" you sip it very cautiously, and then take a longer drink. The taste and the warmth does help, and you finally take a full, deep breath. Seungmin rounds the bed as you sip, and you watch him carefully. If he opens that drawer again, he'll know you have the knife…and unlucky for you, that's exactly what he does. Maybe he heard you. Maybe he can just read it on you.

But he's quiet as he looks, and his expression doesn't change. He just closes it again and sits at the edge of the bed, naked back facing you. You find yourself admiring him again…his neck, his shoulders…stupid. He slides back and relaxes against the pillows, but he keeps a good distance. The bed is big enough for that.

"You have my knife?"

The way he asks isn't accusing. It isn't threatening. It isn't even rude. He asks as if it's just the next part of the conversation. When you don't answer, you see him nod his head from the corner of your eye.

"If it makes you feel safer, you can hold onto it. If you want to use it, I probably won't try to stop you."

"How long are you going to keep me locked in here?"

"I'm not going to let you go home alone in your state, not this late. You can leave in the morning."

"You're lying"

Seungmin sighs and turns on his side, and he looks at you—you look at him directly for the first time since coming back, but you're both silent. Just like his voice, his gaze is softer, and less intense. It’s also full of confusion, like he doesn’t know what to make of you; as if he’s wondering why you’re in his bed right now. His eyes start to close. At the same time, your eyes grow heavy, and it feels just like before. It feels like you can't possibly win against the sleep, and your thoughts wander as you drift; now you'll die, no more waking up.

The sun coming in through the balcony window warms the room. The light slices the bed right in half, and when you open your eyes, the first thing you see is his sleep tangled body—the legs of his sweatpants are pushed up almost to his knees, and his skin glows in the sunlight. He's sound asleep on his stomach for a few more moments, but then he mumbles something that you can't quite make out. A groan, but it's not a good groan. It isn't until right this second that you remember the situation you somehow ended up in. Locked in with him…whatever he is…a murderer? The drawer screams experience, and that experience screams serial killer, but last night didn't seem like an experienced killer. You suppose not every time can be perfect.

What are you even thinking? You pull the covers away and move to sit up, and it's then that you feel the knife, still tucked safely beneath the pillow. So Seungmin didn't sneak over as you slept to retrieve it, because you assume he actually did put something in your tea—something he himself also drank. Both of you fell asleep together, and now you have to wait for him to wake, and hope he meant what he said a few hours ago. No, you idiot. Where did he put the key? It's probably in the pocket of his sweatpants, so you move closer to him as carefully and as quietly as possible.

He doesn't stir. You stare down at his sleeping face as you slip your fingers into his pocket, and again, you admire him—the lips you never got to kiss, soft and pouty. His cheeks, his nose, all perfect and screaming to be touched. Seungmin must hear your thoughts, because his eyes open to you, and his hand clamps down on your wrist. Ice runs through your veins and your stomach drops, but instead of pulling away and retreating to the other side of the bed, you lean forward and press your lips to his, because…you don't know why. But Seungmin kisses back, and he means it—every nibble and lick, every soft moan coming from deep in his chest. You return the intensity, and something about his kiss feels good, but still…

“Oh…right,” Seungmin licks his lip and keeps his chin high, because he knows exactly how sharp his knife is. It grazes his throat, and your shaking hand doesn’t do much to relax him. “How could I forget?”

“Where’s the key?”

“I told you I’d let you leave, I meant it”

“Give me the key.” Now, of course, you can cry. Tears stream down your cheeks, and your hand shakes even more.

“Okay…okay,” he digs in the pocket you were going for, pulls out a leather keychain, and one gold key hangs from it. “Please don’t cry.”

You snatch it, but keep the knife against him until you’re too far away to reach. He doesn’t get up when you do. He doesn’t move when you grab the clothes you finally find on the floor, try the key, and sigh with relief when it works. It’s possible that he finally moves when the door shuts behind you, but you’re dressed and gone before you have a chance to find out.

[kyracooneyx23]

Waldosia

Leah Williamson

summary: Leah still isn't over the fact that you're gone and can't help but looking for you in the crowd every game, even though she knows you'll never be there.

warnings: mentions of death, slight angst, depression, just lots of yapping at the end, not a happy ending. (cringe warning)

waldosia: /wawl-doh-zhuh/ n.  a condition in which you keep scanning faces in a crowd looking for a specific person who would have no reason to be there, as if your brain is checking to see whether they're still in your life, subconsciously patting its emotional pockets before it leaves for the day.

You'd had Leah Williamson hooked from the very first time the two of you had met. You'd caught her attention with you're bright smile and warm laugh. She couldn't get enough of you, you were like a drug.

Leah Williamson had brightened up your world during some of the darkest moments in your life. You'd lost your mum to cancer and your sister had stopped speaking to you. When all seemed lost, she gave you a reason to keep pushing even when you didn't think you could.

You were a wreck but that hadn't stopped her from loving you.

The two of you shared a love so special, you were the first person she'd run to when celebrating a win, but also the first persons arms she'd fall into after a tough loss.

She was there to hold you when you missed your mum, and bring back your smile when your sister consistently ignored your calls.

You and Leah had found each other when you were both most in need of love the most.

But it was all a secret.

A love too good for the rest of the world to know.

You feared what would happen if the fans found out. Scared that Leah would be ashamed of a girlfriend like you.

You're insecurities screamed at you, that small voice in your mind a constant reminder that you'd never be good enough for the one and only Leah Williamson

But Leah thought you were perfect, you were real and that's what she needed.

She needed someone who wasn't afraid to talk about their emotions, someone who was there when Leah needed a shoulder to cry on. Someone to keep her head on straight.

And eventually the two of you started to break out of your little shell, finally brave enough to show a little PDA, even if it was only holding hands when the two of you went out together.

You'd even started allowing Leah to kiss you after her games, no longer restricting her to just a short hug.

But of course just as you started to think that everything was going to be good, it began to go downhill.

Down a hill so steep that not even the most powerful breaks could stop the fall.

Fans were too nosy for their own good, trying to get involved in people's business that didn't concern them.

They'd call you ugly, saying that Leah should break up with you and find someone better.

Leah said it was fine, she promised to never stop loving you, no matter what anyone said. You were her world and she swore it would always stay that way. She wasn't going to let this affect her.

But you could tell it wasn't true, you noticed. And so did everyone else. Her performances on the pitch were lacking the quality they used to have. It was clear to everyone that her mind was elsewhere.

And it was. You were all she could think about. Your broken face when you'd look online and see another post dissing you. The tears you'd quickly rub out of your eyes whenever she'd walk in the room, trying to pretend you hadn't been crying.

The guilt was eating you up, and as much as you despised the thought of it, you knew that the only way to fix things was to leave.

And while it would obviously hurt for a while, you'd both get over it. Maybe Leah would find someone new. Someone better. That could give her the love and life she deserved.

You're bags were packed a note left on the side.

That was the last time Leah had ever heard from the love of her life.

She'd tried hard, so hard, to get you back. She'd called you so many times that she'd had to pay unreasonable amounts just to get more data, praying that you'd pick up.

But you never did. Every single time it would ring to voice mail, and she'd leave the same message, begging you to come home.

but her speech would always be cut off by that annoying beeping noise, signaling that she'd run out of time and she'd once again be left alone. No clues to tell her if you'd listened to her and all she could do was cry.

A year later she was still not fixed. It seemed that when you had left, you'd taken part of her with you. She no longer had her favourite person to celebrate with, and suddenly winning the conti cup was no longer as special.

Her jokes were lacking, her eyes not shining as bright as they used to. And everyone noticed, they noticed the change in Leah's demeanor and how talks about you were no longer a usual part of Leah's chats. All that was left was a crack in her voice and tears welling in her eyes from the mere thought of you.

Currently, she was walking around the emirates stadium. Waving to fans who were wildly celebrating the win. But she wasn't paying attention any of them.

She had made a habit of unintentionally looking for you in every crowd, a small part in the back of her mind hoping that one day you'd be there smiling back at her just like you used to. But you never were, and every time Leah would be left alone, but sleep would not come without your arms holding her until she dozed off.

The English captain was doing a pretty good job of keeping everything to herself as she did a lap, until she saw a familiar flash of brown hair in the stands. And that's when her mind went into shambles. She momentarily stopped walking in her tracks and stared at the girl, for a second being convinced that it was you. And then another girl came into view this time with darker brown hair, but she once again was convinced this was you. It was like her mind was playing tricks on her. You're not fucking here...

She brought her hands up to her face and rubbed her eyes harshly, hoping that by doing so she'd slap some common sense into herself. But when she lifted her head, she couldn't stop herself from looking around again, from looking for you. It was as if her brain had set its mind onto something, and decided on finding you in the crowd of 60,000 people. But seeing as it was impossible to actually find you, she just felt as if she was going mental.

Lia, who noticed Leah's fidgeting, looked up at her and grabbed her hand, shooting a warm smile at her friend who was clearly distressed. It wasn't the first time the English had acted this way after a game and it was clear to all the girls the reason why.

'There's someone here to see you.' Lia Walti whispered, causing Leah's stomach to flip.

Was it you? Had you finally come out of hiding?

Lia began leading her towards the crowd of excited people.

At this point, Leah's hands were shaking and her free hand was fumbling with the untucked hem of her jersey. Her heart was racing faster than it ever had before and her breaths were becoming shorter, feeling as if she were starting to lose herself.

What if it actually was you? What would she do if you were here in the stands right now?

Lia lead her towards where Beth Mead and Alessia Russo was already standing, but before they could even reach it Leah abruptly stopped walking. Her eyes snapped up to the girl who Beth was chatting with, eyes narrowing as she couldn't believe the sight before her. It was you, it really was you this time. The long brown hair, which looked a lot darker now (but Leah just assumed that you'd dyed it in the time you were gone) the laugh that made her eyes light up, the jersey with the number 6 on the back that you always wore to her games. And although she couldn't see your face she was sure it was you.

'Y/n?' Leah whispered so quietly, still at least ten meters away, thinking no one could hear her, but of course Lia did.

'It's not her.' She said sadly looking over to Leah who's face fell, her hopeful expression now replaced with a broken one. 'It's just Alex.'

Her eyes filled up with tears and she quickly dropped her hand from Lia's, suddenly feeling a wave of nausea run through her as she responded, 'Fuck, I-I'm... I...,'

Her sentence trailed off as she looked up at the concerned face looking at her, but she couldn't finish her sentence. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she felt like her throat was closing up, quickly inhaling and exhaling in short breaths. She was scared, terrified, of the way she was feeling. The tricks that her mind kept playing on her, giving her hope only to crush it ten seconds later.

'I can't be here anymore, tell Alex I said hi.' Leah tells the Swiss girl before sharply turning around and leaving the stadium, not caring what the fans or players would say.

It was only once she finally got into the car that she let her emotions fully take over, tears streaming down her face as she slammed her face against the steering wheel.

Why would you do this to her? Why would you leave in attempts to make things better when in reality it was just making Leah spiral. A sudden surge of anger coursed through her veins, she was mad at you for causing so much pain when all she did was give you all her love.

She was mad at the fans, and all the other people that had made you feel like you weren't good enough, when you were more than that. You were the best human being she knew, you had a heart too big for this cruel would and nobody had the right to take that away.

Nothing could hurt Leah anymore, so for what felt like the millionth time since you'd left she picked up her phone and pressed on your numbers in her contacts. She couldn't care less if you didn't pick up, no amount of pain could ever hurt someone as numb as she was.

The phone rang for a solid thirty seconds, and Leah was about to give up and just go home when she heard a soft voice coming from her car speakers.

'Hello, who is this?' Your voice rung out and Leah could almost cry from happiness and relief. You were actually talking to her, you were still there and you sounded almost happy.

'Y/n... Is that you?' Leah asks softly, not hearing the gasp coming from your lips. She was shocked that you picked up for once, not knowing that the only reason was because she'd had her caller id off from earlier in the day.

You wouldn't have picked up if you had known.

'Leah?' You're voice was full of shock, the buzz from before gone. 'What are you doing?'

'What do you think I'm doing.' The defender exclaims, 'I've been worried sick about you for a whole year. I have no clue where you are or why you left. was it me? Did I do something wrong?' Her voice trails off as she leans back into her seat running her hand through her bleach blonde hair whilst anxiously biting the nails off her fingers on the other.

'Leah, you shouldn't have called.' She can hear the nerves in your voice but it doesn't stop her from getting angry. 'I've really got to go.'

'No.' She snaps into the phone 'You're staying on this call until you tell me why you left.'

'You know perfectly well why I left Leah.' But she didn't, ever since you'd been gone that was the one thing the Lioness wanted to know the answer to.

'I don't, I wish I did but I don't.' A sigh is heard over the phone line and Leah can hear papers rustling about before you speak again.

'I don't know why you care Leah. You've seemed to move on perfectly, you have Lia now and I'm not there to bring you and your career down with my mess of a life.' At first Leah was mad, mad that you'd ever think you were bringing her down, then confused what were you talking about when you said that she 'had Lia now'.

'Lia?' She says softly voicing her confusement.

'You don't have to act innocent Leah. I'm happy for you and Lia, you're great for each other and as long as you're happy so am I.' It's funny how well Leah knows you, even though you were only together for a short time, she could sense the small smile that you were obviously faking as you said this.

'I'm not with Lia.' Leah says, louder this time to make her point clear, 'how could I ever get with someone when you still have my heart. You had it from the very first time I laid eyes on you, and I'd like it back. Almost as much as I want my girlfriend to come back home.' She laughs lightly, although there is nothing humorous about the conversation the two of you were having. 'You can't expect me to love someone when I've already given you all the love I had.'

'Leah, you need to move on. It's better that way. It's better for you and your career, like I said before I'm not letting myself bring you down anymore.' You say firmly, trying to ignore the ache in your heart knowing after this conversation you might lose the best thing you've ever had, and never get her back. 'You know how much I hate goodbyes, and I would much rather this be hello, but it really is time you move on.' Tears were spilling down your cheeks now and you couldn't stop them.

'I can't move on, you know that.'

Silence filled the car Leah was in and the small office where you were sitting matched that silence. No one daring to speak not knowing the right words to say any more, there was no clear way that this conversation was going to end. You wanted to give Leah the life she deserved whereas the Brit was adamant that you were the one she wanted.

'You messed me up y/n/n, you really did. You left when things got hard, because it was easier for you to walk out than fight for us and I thought you were stronger than that. I lay awake at night, every night, wondering why god brought you into my life, only to take you away from me and leave me a broken mess. I make mistakes, we all do, and if you're a mistake then you're the best mistake I've ever made. But it's still left me broken and I guess that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for caring too much, sorry for feeling joy when I'm around, sorry for feeling safe in your arms, sorry for getting so addicted to you that it feels like I can't think right when your not around, sorry for all the calls and thinking they were a good idea. But most of all I'm sorry that I'm never going to stop loving you and I'm never going to stop trying until I get you back.'

A sob escaped from you, you couldn't hold it back. It was the most heartfelt thing you'd ever heard anyone say, Leah was never going to stop loving you and you would never stop loving her. And maybe in another life where you weren't as depressed and could keep your shit together without pulling down other people with you, you and Leah could've had the happily ever after that are always written in children's fairytales.

Because maybe all along your love story really was just a case of right person, wrong time.

And that was the most fucked up joke the universe could ever play on you.

[yuri-is-online]

The Tower Stairs: Rollo Flamme

"Forget about school while you're here and enjoy a moment of respite in Fleur City." The words should not be bouncing around in your brain like a screensaver, hitting on the edges left by overblot after overblot. You wish Vil was here to remind you that not everyone who hurt you had been so callous in the aftermath.

But he's not. The only one here who is willing to point out the wrongs is Rollo. Are you wrong for being tempted to let him take advantage of that?

notes: This is fucking 10,225 words and only lightly proofread, sorry. they/them used for Yuu, SPOILERS FOR ALL OF GLORIOUS MASQUERADE, light references to events surrounding overblots, non-consensual drugging and possible Stockholm syndrome, Yuu feels isolated and Rollo has an idea just hear him out. Lots of toxicity all around please be advised This is technically part of a series, the first part features Azul. If you like those consider checking out my masterlist.

Two sentences.

Two students will be sent as attendants to the invited mages.  One monster and one magicless human, approximate measurements attached per your request.

Two sentences barely acknowledging your existence and that was it; the foolish mage in charge of Night Raven hadn't even thought to include a name or photograph (the monster got the same treatment but he could not really bring himself to care as much about that) and he hadn't even made notes about food preferences or allergies.  The attached note was a post-it scrawled in the most haphazard and uncaring handwriting that he needs to take a brief moment to breathe, turning away from his desk to throw another log on the fire and breath in the soothing scent of the smoke.  He doesn't even know what their favorite color is, those poor fools will have to make a guess while they obsess over what costume to throw at them. 

Costume.  His eyebrows twitch as he brings the handkerchief to his nose, the smoke no longer enough to distract from his disgust.  Breathe in, the gentle aroma of rosemary and lavender brings clarity though solace remains tentatively hanging in the bell tower along with all of his hopes, breathe out.  He dares not risk ruining the foolish surprise by asking, but he makes sure to take a nice sheet of paper and properly write out the notes on their measurements neatly, tacking it to the top of the stack where it belongs.  This festival was always meant to be for the virtuous, and while he may not know them, what he has seen of the others guarantee them to be the best of the lot.  The bell dutifully rings out the evening toll and Rollo takes one last look at those two sentences.  He pities you; that's the explanation he reaches for the pain searing in his chest.

~~~~

Halloween feels more like Christmas with how big of a deal all your friends are making of it, and you really lack the words to explain how strange that makes you feel.  It's not a bad sort of strange you suppose as you twirl a little of the thickly embroidered fabric in between your fingers.  Festivities bring good food, an excuse to avoid classwork, and a way to guise showing affection under holiday obligation; it's just a bit odd to see it cloaked in orange, blacks, and pumpkin carvings and not pine needles and nutmeg.  But all of these thoughts are irrelevant, meant to try and distract you from the waiting crowd outside and the social you've been pawned off on.  You take a deep breath, trying to focus on how excited Grim sounds and how cute you know he will look to avoid the terror of being seen.

"Forget about school while you're here and enjoy a moment of respite in Fleur City."

Your eyes meet Rollo’s before you shamefully turn to your friends, disappointment flashing through you with just how impassive his gaze remains despite the beauty of the costume.  It’s just a stupid “crush” on a guy who if you in your right mind you would insist looked ugly.  A real choice example of “guy you didn’t know magic could invent,” 18 going on 80, someone who if you had admitted out loud to wanting to get to know better as a friend you would be judged heavily for.  And if you are being honest with yourself it isn’t even really a crush, it’s just your stupid brain firing off a bunch of dopamine at someone offering you a genuine break and some sympathy for the troubles he assumed you’d been through.  Vil remembered.  The tiny, tired voice of reason tried to do its job at the back of your skull.  It is probably very dark and lonely back there.  Maybe guys from the Shaftlands are just built different.  Even it was overworked and making concessions.

“It looks like you are wearing matching outfits.”  Deuce’s kind smile brings you out of your head and back to reality.  

“You look like you’re matching with Riddle!”  You say and smile wide when both Deuce and Riddle puff up in pride.

“We both look like proper card soldiers,” Riddle actually bows to the Vice-President, who looks really happy to receive the praise “you must have really put a lot of thought into these.”  

“Glad you noticed!”  You see Rollo pull out that strange handkerchief and inhale as his Vice-President happily chirps away.  “Since your Headmage noted your dormitories we tried to include inspiration from the Great Seven in the costume themes!  The costumes are supposed to respect tradition, and your school has some too, we figured ‘why not combine them?’”  

“Where’d mine come from then?”  Grim doesn’t seem too fussed even though he asks, he must  really like his outfit.  “Yuu and I are the only ones who care about our dorm.”

“Yes the… note provided for you was most inadequate.”  Rollo is technically addressing the crowd, but his gaze remains firmly on you.  His eyes are beautiful, green and blue swirling in what you delusionally swear is a gentle dark gray frame that will dull and snap back to firm disinterest once he returns to your seniors.  “As such I suggested the capes but these two came up with the rest.”

“We went with purple and black since those are both NRC and NBC colors.”  The VP gives you what should be a confident thumbs up that you barely pay attention to, still caught up in the intensity of Rollo’s gaze.  

“Thank you.”  You barely manage to break away from it and miss the way Rollo seems to somehow stand taller, even if he does not say-

“You’re welcome!” The vice-president and aide continue to glow with everyone’s praise.  “We really hoped you would like them.”  

You can barely hear their words over your focus on him.  If he feels the weight of your gaze he doesn't flinch, nor does he acknowledge it, leaving Trein’s voice to cut through your stupor, startling you with an expectation of disappointment or trouble.  But it isn’t there, he simply seems concerned, and thankfully not with you.  You cannot say the same of your classmates, but then again you had also forgotten the headache you got listening to them argue over their fieldwork group names.  Seriously, how old were Azul and Idia again?  And you aren’t going to think about Malleus right now, the ibuprofen Trey had helped you pack was with your luggage not the pockets of your costume. 

“What will Yuu be doing?”  Rollo is as impassive as ever, but he once again looks at you as he asks, as if he expects you to be a part of the conversation.  How cute.

“Yuu and Grim will be with me.”  Trein turns to scold your friends and though you expect Rollo to follow, or maybe excuse himself to his duties he does not.

“Are you alright with this arrangement?”  He asks.

“Oh we discussed it before we got here.”  You rush to pacify, which startles Rollo more than soothes him.  “As long as Grim gets to eat a bunch of stuff we’ll be fine.”  If anything it will probably keep him distracted from causing trouble to keep bouncing back and forth between the groups, but you don’t say that outloud. 

“Yeah!”  Grim cheers, excited by the mention of his name if nothing else.  “This place has got all sorts of great food right?! Riddle was tellin me all about it.” Rollo seems displeased, the handkerchief comes out from his pocket but he doesn’t hold it up to his face yet, choosing instead to focus on your eyes.

“I wasn’t asking about Grim.”  Your little friend begins to make noises of protest, but they quiet as he looks back and forth between you both.  But if Rollo has more to say he is forced to keep it to himself.

“Human!”  Sebek’s shout demands your attention and you see Rollo finally lift his arm to take the deepest breath yet into his handkerchief.  “You had better not plan on keeping Lord Malleus waiting!  Have you already forgotten he specifically requested you accompany his group?!?!”  You haven’t, but you know Sebek won’t hear that.  

“Sorry, duty calls!” You give your best elegant bow and are rewarded with a genuine smile.

“Yes, for both of us.”  He watches, with a strange look in his eyes as you flicker out of his view like a wisp of smoke.

~~~~ “I was worried when Sebek started arguing and insisting that he join Malleus’s group… But honestly, I’m glad he has a proper guard.”  Jamil does seem significantly less stressed than he usually does, which in turn relaxes you.

“Of course, Malleus’s safety will always be my first priority!”  Sebek is all smiles and pride as the conversation continues towards what direction to start your tour, you find your mind wanting to join in the conversation but finding yourself unable to really contribute.  Grim is similarly distressed.

“I thought this was Group 1,” he wisely chooses to whine to you and not Trien, “not Group BORING.”

“We’ve got to respect their wishes.”  You say, wishing only slightly he wasn’t wearing such a dapper hat.  You miss scratching his ears.  “Besides, historic spots make for great tourist destinations.  You are worried you won’t get any food, right?  I won’t let that happen.”

“Most of the places I know of aren’t on tourist maps.”  Trien corrects gently, but his small smile lets you know he does not mean to come off as reprimanding.  “But Yuu is correct, Grim, there will be plenty of places to feed you as we check on the other groups.”

“Well then what are we waitin’ around for!  Let’s get cracking!”  Grim’s little shout and face is so deathly serious you can’t help but snap a brief picture on your phone, as you walk slowly between Riddle and Jamil.

“So,”  a relaxed Jamil might be a rare sight, but this teasing look is not “what did President Rollo want to talk to our little attendant about?”

“I was wondering that as well.”  Riddle asks much more earnestly, which gets the squirming reaction from you Jamil had been trying to provoke.  “He wasn’t being rude was he?  An insult to one NRC student is a slight to our whole school.”

“Oh I’m sure he was very personal.”  Laughs Jamil and you try to pass off your embarrassment with a cough.

“He just wanted to know what group Grim and I were going with.”  It has got to be enough of the truth to get Jamil to drop it, but as you turn yourself back towards Trien you are surprised to find him smirking.

“Yes, Mr. Flamm was very concerned with knowing your whereabouts.”  He has the decency to shoot Jamil a stern glance when he cackles, but the teasing point has still been made.  You have been seen (for once, the tiny voice argues, when there is something to use against you.)  Thankfully Malleus and Riddle still seem blissfully unaware of what is being implied, if anything Malleus seems deeply pleased at the mention of Rollo.

“I’m glad he was willing to invite us both.”  It is hard to ignore the puff to his chest that comes with the word invitation, your tired inner voice retreats replaced with a genuine smile.

“Me too, Tsunotarou.  It’s nice to be able to take a vacation.”  You should be concerned that Trien has led you into what appears to be a sewer alley, but the soothing melody of the river to your left drowns out all worries and Sebek’s misery at being the sole mage to have done zero research.  Well maybe not the sole mage, just the only one without a collar.

“Hey Yuu,” Grim whispers, “did ya think at all about what Rollo said earlier?”

“About relaxing?”  Please, don’t let Grim get in on teasing you too.  You don’t want to live in a world where he is more socially conscious than Riddle.

“No!  Well kinda.  I mean about what ya wanted to do.”  Grim does occasionally have serious thoughts.  “N-not that I really care or anythin, just y’know.”  Not that he ever outright admits to thinking them.  This one has him so embarrassed he starts yelling at Sebek to give up on thinking before he can hear your answer, giving you time to actually think on one.

It is a relatively easy answer, the same you always have whenever you get the opportunity to leave campus.  You want to look for a way home, but how exactly do you go about doing that?  Maybe Rollo would know this water sort of reminds you of his eyes, tired, he looks so tired but when he was able to talk to you he seemed to relax and now you hate yourself even more than you had earlier.  You force yourself to stand up at a normal pace and rejoin the conversation, as if the painful spike of emotion that a new crush brings isn’t actively wrecking your heartbeat.

~~~~

Yuu.  The name of the student attendant is Yuu, Rollo was already making amendments to the lines as soon as he confirmed that, but your conversation began to muddle his own corrections with unnecessary feeling.  He doesn’t understand it, the strange pull he is feeling towards you; Rollo assumed at first was fanned by his hatred of those awful mages, the inherent desire to soothe you all feels justified but no… he knows that feeling, or at least he thinks he does.  He feels it every time he sees a magicless citizen of his city think about just how much better their life could be, but that emotion has grown dull, this desire burns him.  Even now as he tries desperately with fragrant herbs and the gentle lull of the river the intoxicating glow of relief in their eyes blazes in his soul.

"Forget about school while you're here and enjoy a moment of respite in Fleur City."

It was generic, there was so much more he should have said.  But what could he offer you?  You're not a mage, you have every right to be wary of him.  To refuse his help would be understandable.

“And I hope the rest of you will enjoy the social.”

The thought of the social finally succeeds in sobering him, he runs though his plans once more in his head as he sees the outline of one of those detestable NRC clowns looking over the various bakeries, clearly inept at choosing where to go.  And once again those thoughts flicker briefly back to you, not that Rollo trusts mages to do anything other than pursue their own interests, but he had hoped somewhat foolishly when he had read the word “attendant” that some care would be taken for your preferences and safety.  But clearly he was mistaken, and how he loathes the thought of his plans being anything less than perfect.  The handkerchief goes back into his pocket and his hand brushes up against a tiny bottle.  Dreamer’s Rest such a mundane name for a poison.  It is, no it was meant to be a precaution, but now, as he idly holds the crystal bottle up to the sunlight, a new thought takes shape in his mind.  It is magic, something he despises and believes should not exist, but if he could convince you to drink it… 

Quickly he shoves the thought and the bottle back into his robes, forcing himself towards Ashengrotto’s group hoping the new temptations will disappear.

They do not, as amusing the thought of them purchasing souvenirs is. 

“What’s so surprising about that?”  The look on Azul’s face as he speaks does suggest offense, but that he has cause to be at all sharpens Rollo’s resolve.  “That’s generally what you do with gifts, yes.  What do you two take me for?”  Exactly what he wants them too, Rollo supposes seeing how quickly Deuce and Epel jump to praise him and completely miss Azul’s muttered expectation of compensation.  The three continue to speak of utterly irrelevant topics.

“Certainly.”  He folds his hands and takes the first opportunity to excuse himself.  Azul is a merchant and these two are dumb as rocks, he has nothing to worry about here.  “I’ll take my leave then-”

“Oh before you go!”  Deuce has an infuriatingly cheerful smile on his face for someone who has just interrupted him. “I wanted to thank you.  For including Yuu I mean.”  Azul pushes his glasses up onto his face, curious, it would appear his reactions are being watched, but that this sentiment from Deuce is not unexpected.  “I was really worried you Nobel Bell guys would see them as an inconvenience or a burden since it’s supposed to be a mage’s social and all and they aren’t a mage, you have no idea how relieved I was you had costumes for them and Grim.  I was really happy they got to come!”  

“Yeah!”  Epel’s smile could be described as cute if he wasn’t such a talented mage.  “We’re going to have so much fun at the social together, I can’t wait.”

“Of course.”  Rollo smiles in spite of himself, if he was less focused on making his exit he would have realized he had been since the first mention of Yuu’s name.  “I will continue to ensure they… are allowed to relax while here.” How disappointing, Rollo thinks, that these mages see inclusion of their supposed friend to be a point in his favor.  It’s almost enough to make him laugh, but then he swears he sees your face before him, eyes agleam with wonder and suddenly words lose all meaning.  The handkerchief comes out as he makes his way back to his tasks, the sooner they are done the more of an excuse he can make to see you again.  “Now if you all will excuse me, I have to get back to checking on the other groups.”  It wouldn't do to keep his flowers waiting after all.

Azul frowns deeply for just one moment.  “Are you sure you should be thanking him?”  His face returns to stoic calculation, but he still asks.

“Why?”  Deuce is so genuinely confused it really does make Azul hurt for Riddle.

“... no reason.”  Yet anyway.”  

~~~~

For a creature so gluttonous Grim sure does love to play with his food, it would be cute to watch him catch grapes in his mouth if you weren’t walking through such a busy intersection looking for Azul’s group.  “You need to be more careful.”  You fuss, taking advantage of Trien’s pause to check his maps to gently poke Grim’s nose.  He sneezes.

“Ya don’t have ta worry so much,” he huffs as if he isn’t pleased with the attention “the Great Grim isn’t able to choke.”  

“Heh your friend doesn’t seem to think so.”  Rollo’s laugh is as smug as it is startling, you swear you jump halfway out of your skin.  He moves to follow you, a noise of startled surprise sending pinpricks up your arms in delight.

“Rollo!  Sorry I didn’t see you.”  Great now he has to think you’re stupid, of course you didn’t see him Yuu!  He clearly just got here!  “Is everything ok?  No one causing you any trouble?”  You have to bite your tongue not to add from my school because who else would be doing that.  

“Nothing’s happened you need to worry over.”  Rollo folds his hands, those water grey eyes ripple with emotion reminding you of your reflections at the riverside earlier. " I simply saw you and decided to come over and see how your tour was progressing so far.”

“It’s goin great!”  Grim hugs his bunch of grapes close to his chest.  “Yuu’s been gettin me all sorts of yummy grub.”

“... it is heartwarming to see how caring Yuu is towards you.”  His smile suggests genuine amusement, and your heart warms with pride.  “But I am curious, have you gotten to do everything you wanted to?  Is there still something you wish to see?”  Rollo says it so passively, as if it wasn't a natural question to ask.  It is, you suppose, a natural question if 

“I’m sorry?”  Rollo’s eyes haven’t once left yours, there is no mistaking he intended to speak directly to you and yet… 

“This is an experience for you too, yes?”  Rollo looks sad you think, but you try to remind your rapidly increasing heart rate that you have only just met so you have no idea if that is true.  “I have some time before I am needed, if your Professor allows it-”

“Of course I will.”  Trien’s voice causes you both to jump, free from whatever strange aura you constantly find in each other’s presence.  There is a strange glint in his eyes, almost nostalgic as he takes Grim from your arms and nods towards Rollo.  “There are a few places I can think of that might be of interest to Yuu specifically, but I’m sure you will be much more up to date with what’s practical.”  You expect him to wait, to confirm just where it is Rollo wants to take you off to but no.  If anything he practically skips away from you with pep that you swear should strain his back.

“I’m so sorry he just left like that.”  You say quietly, and to your surprise Rollo laughs.  The stern look that had been so fixed into your mind since this morning is kinder now, he actually looks like a young man now, the aura of nobility around him seeming to come more from some hidden self confidence you suppose all mages have tucked somewhere.

“There’s no need, I’m sure it would have been much more embarrassing if he stayed.”  Rollo says it so matter of factly you almost believe him.  “So just what was it you wanted to see?”

“Is there a place where-” you eagerly start before flustering with the weight of trying to explain what exactly it is you are looking for.  “Why” will be even harder, emotionally if nothing else.  “Is there any place I could do some research I guess?  Like on really obscure myths and history.”  It was clearly not the question Rollo was expecting, but he does have an answer ready.  

“There is a book store I am fond of across from the main school building, assuming you don’t mind walking back that way?”  

“Not at all.”  You remain trapped in your strange silence, though Rollo does not quite seem to mind.  He easily begins to guide you back towards the school, the tension you had previously associated with him never once returning to his face.

“Do you enjoy reading about mythology?”  He asks as soon as the crowd thins a little.

“Yes.”  Your answer is quieter than he’d like, as if you are questioning the sincerity of your own interests.  “You can tell a lot about what people value by looking at the stories they tell and besides… I just like stories.”  

“What sort?”  The question isn’t sharp, so you silently curse yourself for jumping.  “I apologize if I am coming off as needling you, that wasn't my intention.  As the president of a magic school’s student council I seldom get a chance to speak with… the more sincere members of society.  I am curious about your perspective, you could say I find it important.”

“Why?”  You don’t mean to scoff, but Rollo doesn’t seem phased.  If anything he seems oddly pleased.

“Do you think yourself unimportant?”  The stern look he gives is far less severe than what had been aimed at your classmates, but is still disarming.  “I meant what I said before.  I understand if you find it tiring to be around me as well, but I promise you need only to speak if I am exhausting you.”

“No!”  His pleased smile grows as you try desperately to center your thoughts.  “You haven’t been exhausting me at all, I just- wasn’t expecting the question.”  Rollo’s contented laugh sears you right to your soul, so beautiful and strong and so clearly meant only for you to hear.  You are spared further embarrassing thoughts as you finally reach your destination and he reaches for the shop’s door.

“After you, Yuu.”  Bless the shop bell for ringing you back to reality, and the smell of old books finally luring you away from Rollo’s grasp.

~~~~

There is a peaceful, eager joy about your expression that Rollo tries desperately to write into his memory.  This is how you should look all the time, unburdened by the weariness existing next to magic and mages that undoubtedly piles on you.  His relief flickers slightly as he wonders, unpleasantly, just what it is you think of him and his faults.  Is he truly responsible for your joy now?  And if he is… just what does he need to do to keep it?  He is suddenly heavily aware of the bottle in his pocket, and Grim’s words from earlier begin to suggest an ill formed plan that drives him to speak.

“Have you had anything to eat yet?” he whispers in spite of himself, but you do not seem displeased with his interruption. 

“Idia bought me some grape juice, but other than that not really.”  And yet you have been feeding your companion like some sort of saint.  

“There’s a small cafe attached to this store…”  There is no going back if he says this, there are a million things that should be at the front of his mind but the only thing he can bring himself to worry over is what you will think of him once it is done.  “Would you like something from it?”  You pause scanning the book you are holding and reach towards your pocket, but he catches your hand as gently as he can before pulling back worried he has overstepped.  “I’ll pay for it, please don’t worry yourself.” 

“I can’t ask you to do that!”  So you squeak but your stomach seems to disagree with the strange noise it makes.

“Then don’t.”  He cannot help but smile as he says it.  Cute.  He thinks that is the word he wants to use.  You have his entire attention.  “Just tell me what you would like.”  He half expects you to continue denying yourself, but no.  You murmur a bashful request, and he promises to meet you at the front of the store once he has gotten you something.  He almost believes in his own good intentions until his hand touches the bottle in his pocket as he tries to think.  This… impulse is not his fault.  You will be in danger if he does not act, he needs to find a way to keep you safe from the downfall of those mages who surround you.

There is a selection of fruit and cheese that catches his eye, there is a small dish of honey meant to be paired with some apples.  Dreamer’s Rest has no taste, just one bite from any of these would grant you the relaxation you deserved.  This is a conscious decision he is making, if he commits there will be no way to take it back.  He can beg you to see his reason, but would you listen?  It’s insidious how little visible effect magic leaves on something, nothing looks different or dangerous, the food he is holding just looks like food.

“Have you ever heard of someone traveling between worlds before?”  Rollo should be concerned with how tuned in to your voice he is, how quickly he completes his task and takes himself, with noticeably lighter pockets, back to the front of the store and the tables set next to the front counter.

“Are you sure you don’t mean continents?”  The shopkeep seems confused, but Yuu seems strangely determined.  Desperate even.

“No, worlds.  Like different realities or dimensions.”  You try again.  “Maybe something about liminal spaces?”  That just makes them laugh.

“Oh no, if you’re interested in those sorts of things you’ll need to look at the science fiction section!  Magical travel between different ‘worlds’ is so utterly preposterous, I’m sure Monsieur Rollo will be able to explain to you why.”  You look devastated, as if what has been said is a personal slight.  He lacks the ability to describe just what it is he is feeling now, there is a wariness to how he looks over you he doesn’t like.  There is no reason to doubt your virtue, you have no magic.  So why then,would you be so interested in what would undoubtedly be such a career defining feat for any mage, why act distraught as if you are so intimately acquainted with the subject?  You cannot look at him as he gently guides you to the table, can’t speak even.  It is as if the dismissal has robbed you of your appetite.

“Technically speaking if we had proof another reality existed,” he takes care to breathe in the comforting scents of his kerchief, watching you for any sign of motive “it would not be a matter of science fiction.  As we lack that, however, most statistical models make such a thing out to be quite impossible.  Teleportation magics such as the Dark Mirror at Night Raven possess are already quite rare and subject to stringent regulation, it stands to reason the ability to travel across reality would be much more rare.”

“I see.”  You are quiet, yet unflinching under his scrutiny in a way that makes him want to scream.  There is no reason for you to be so resigned to him, it should be the other way around.  He should be afraid of your judgment, your wrath, not your rejection as you pick idly at the fruits.  “You must think I’m very silly.”  You whisper.

“I think you are not telling me something.”  He whispers as well, trying to sound sincere and sympathetic.  “That your friends and teachers did not tell me something.”  His body moves of its own accord, he stands and places his hands on your shoulders in what he hopes is a gentle manner; you look up to him with a strangely hopeful expression.  It is as if you see him as some source of light, unaware of its hellish source.  “My judgment is fair, so please, unburden yourself while you are here.”  While you can be safe in his arms.

“If I said,” your voice quivers “if I said I did have proof of a different reality.  One where magic didn’t exist.”  He inhales sharply, a new scent worming itself among his affirmations alongside the resurgence of the pain from when he first read those two accursed lines.  “If I was somehow taken from such a place, and wanted to find a way back, would you believe me?”

“Yes.”  There is disbelief in your eyes, but really how could he reach any other explanation for this grip you have on his soul?  The reasoning, as implausible as other scholars would decry it, made a degree of sense.  Why else would such a wretched institution like Night Raven allow for someone so pure to exist in their presence, to say nothing of being allowed to attend as a student?  The best solution, no matter how improbable, is the simplest one, and what a beautiful solution this admission is.

“I don’t know how I got here really, I just sort of showed up at orientation and the headmage hasn’t done mu- I mean he hasn’t really found any promising leads about how to send me back.  That was his excuse for sending me to the social.  He thought that since maybe your academy is also really old and has so many traditions that maybe one of you would know how to send me home.”  Slowly, so slowly it almost burns, Rollo moves his right hand from your arm to fetch something from his pocket.  The large ruby of his ring reflects the dull light of the lamps as he runs just the edge of his handkerchief under your eye, letting his thumb massage the tear towards it.  The comforting blend of rosemary and lavender that invades your senses explains why he keeps it so close to his nose, but those are not the scents that soothe you.  There is an undercurrent, brought by his sleeves and the way his eyes follow the curve of your cheek and stay unintentionally on your lips, of wood smoke and ink that can’t come from anyone but him, who in their right mind would burn something in a bookstore?

“You can speak poorly of him here.”  There is an undercurrent of authority to his voice that should scare you.  Rollo has always looked directly at you, that dark gray blue inviting you to bathe in his light has never once thought of you as the other.  Perhaps because he is too busy looking at your classmates like they are lesser, a thought that you should perhaps pay more mind. “No one is going to carry what you say back to them, I promise.  You poor thing…”  It is all you can do to not collapse into his arms and cry.  It should be condescending, this way he is looking at you.  “It’s cruel to keep you like this.”  Who he is speaking to you don’t know, there is an unspoken aura over you both, an aura of agreement that he could be as cruel as he likes.  Idly, as if he does not fully understand what he is doing, Rollo removes his hand shakily, returning his handkerchief to his pocket, only breaking eye contact with you to eye the abandoned apple slices on the table next to you.  “Are you still hungry?”  He is asking you a question, but it’s not the one he’s voiced.

“Yes.”  You want him to kiss you, but that doesn’t seem to be what he intends to do.  Instead he dips one of the apple slices into the honey and carefully, purposefully lifts it up to your lips.  Wordlessly, he places the slice on your tongue and continues to hold it as you bite down, watching as you chew and closing the gap as you swallow.

His kiss burns, searing you with question and confirmation that this strange attraction is as destructive as it is mutual.  “I have to take you back now.”  He breathes the words close to your lips as you breathe in the smoke of his robes, deeply trying desperately to center yourself.

Your walk back is as quick as it is silent.

~~~~

“Ahh child of man!  Good to have you back, come sit with us.”  Mallues pats the seat beside him expectantly and you gladly settle, much to the chagrin of Sebek who immediately begins howling in protest.  Grim makes similar noises when Azul suggests he sit in yours, but it has much less of an impact when he's voicing them from your lap already.  You breathe deeply, looking around at the sights and sounds of what looks to be a carnival.  Someone walks on a tightrope, there are acrobats tumbling around on the ground, and the whole thing really sparkles with wonder and excitement that feels like magic even before you see the sparks.  It is something that should excite you, but for some reason the more you try to focus on the colors, the more you try to look around the more things begin to blur together.  Perhaps it’s all the walking around you did today but you are beginning to feel extremely tired.  

“And you are all content with such trivial feats of magic?”  Malleus scoffs next to you and you frown deeply, this dance is already impressive. How could this be made better by making it louder?  Maybe he is confused because it isn’t like Briar Valley festivals.

“You could totally upgrade those.”  Snarks Idia.  Never mind, maybe your friends were just dicks.  At least you manage to get some revenge on Idia by making him dance a little with you, no matter how sluggish you feel.  Though it admittedly feels less like revenge when Idia decides to be a responsible senior and guide you back to your seat.  “Are you sure you should be standing up?”  He doesn’t even sound like he is asking the question because he wants an excuse to be anti-social, Idia looks genuinely worried.

“I’m ok, promise.”  you try to grin and bear your way through it but a quick yell for your attention from Grim and the burst of magical fireworks that follow quickly re-directs what little energy you have left.

“Grim, using magic like that in a public place is a bad idea.”  Your scolding is drowned out by other, louder scolds and a spiral into everyone setting off fireworks.  The noise and lights pound your skull with painful overstimulation.  Cautiously, Rollo moves closer to you, concern clear on his face.  

“Are you alright?”  He asks, moving to take your temperature and not finding anything wrong, the only heat you feel is running up your spine from a desperate desire for him to be closer.  You swear you hear someone, Malleus you think, calling for you to join the festivities, but the strange tiredness working its way through your limbs has reached your ears and is beginning to dull the noise around you.  Rollo does not move, he stares down at you intently watching as you dazedly try to stand.  “... Magic is such a troublesome thing, wouldn’t you agree Yuu?  I can only imagine what you have been subjected to, between being stolen from your world and being surrounded by a gaggle of rambunctious foolhardy mages.”  You want to laugh, tell him he doesn’t know the half of it, but your tongue feels like lead in your mouth.  “Worry not- this state of affairs shan’t last much longer.”  Something about his voice worms its way to the back of your skull, maybe it’s the day’s exercise, maybe it’s the noise and lights overstimulating your brian, but you are finding it harder and harder to keep opening your eyes as you blink and try to focus on what Grim is telling you.  He is tugging on your cape and jumping up and down, he has something he wants to say.  He is proud of himself, he has that genuine non-smug happy smile Grim reserves only for you when he wants your praise, and you so desperately want to see what it is he wants to show you.  But you’re tired, so very very tired.  It’s so much effort to keep your eyes open.   So you stop struggling, your eyes close and you feel yourself fall, and conveniently (too conveniently Azul notes pushing his glasses against his nose) Rollo is there to catch you.  “Yuu!”  Grim’s voice finally breaks through the fog, it’s panicked and you feel some worry bubbling up in the sane part of your mind when you realize you can’t move your hand to reassure him you are ok.

Aren’t you tired?  Don’t you want to rest?  Rest here in the City of Flowers?

“Is the noise bothering you?”  Rollo asks quietly, so quietly you wonder if anyone else can hear him other than you.  “Would you like to return to the school?”

“That might be for the best.”  Trien’s hand is cool against your forehead, his voice filled with concern.  “Would you object to taking them back, Rollo?”  You feel Rollo bend to reach under your knees and lift you so high you practically feel like you are flying.  A smile flutters onto your face; his embrace is one of safety and relaxation, with a tender caress from his thumb along your thigh that reminds you of the kiss from earlier.  

“There's no need for that,” Azul tries to attract Idia's attention subtlety “one of us would be more than happy to-”

“That's quite alright.”  Rollo doesn't even bother looking at him as he settles you further into his arms, for a brief moment your eyes open and refocus up at your… captor you suppose.  You know the sound of Azul’s worries, and though you haven’t known Rollo for near as long you think (delusionally, the tired voice is regaining its reason.  This is delusion, madness we are throwing ourselves onto a pyre-) you are beginning to recognize his.  There is worry in his gaze, solely focused on you, from the moment you met him he has been considerate and focused on you in a way that should worry you.  Trien does not seem to share your faith in Azul, you think based on the way Rollo begins to move away from the crowd towards the blissful quiet that he has decided to place his bet on the wrong mage, just as you are about to.

“I am going to trust you.”  You whisper, so slowly you wonder if Rollo even knows what it is you are saying.  If he does, he says nothing aloud, but his steps begin to pick up speed.

~~~~

Fire.  There is a fire to your left you think, the wood crackles pleasantly and gives this strange dream a cozy feel.  Your entire body feels heavy, you can barely open your eyes or move a finger, but you don't seem to be bound to this chair, you can't really seem to motivate yourself to move from it.  Someone's head is resting on your lap, their hands are shaking.

“Forgive me.”  Rollo is whispering, but there is an excitement to his voice.  You realize you have no idea how long you have been sleeping, or even where you are as your eyes open and try to adjust to the dimly lit room around you.  The stonework reminds you of the bell tower from your tour of the school, but you don’t remember seeing this room or the grand fireplace you flinch away from.  “I’m just another mage causing problems for you at the end of the day, no matter how proud I am of my virtues.”  

You manage to lift your head just enough to look down, Rollo’s head is indeed lying in your lap, his giant hat has been placed on the table just next to you, and though there is indeed triumph in his voice the expression on his face is painful.  “No matter how hard I try to better myself, I am still a mage.  I am still filled with evil and I am still forced to use that evil to pass judgment.  I couldn’t even save you without resorting to it.  I wonder just how much you would hate me if you knew…”  His eyes flutter open, gently, much too gently for someone you are slowly starting to realize likely drugged you and definitely kidnaped you, he kisses the top of your hand.  “Can I ask you for your forgiveness?  Do I even have the right?”  Slowly, with effort such a simple action should not take, you move your hand to his head and carefully run your nails over his scalp.  Rollo groans, eyes raising to meet your bleary ones.

“If I can forgive you for this…” putting you to sleep, taking you away from your friends, Rollo did not strike you as someone who did this without there being another reason, Azul had earlier described him as naive and you are inclined to trust his judgment.  “Can you accept it?”  Rollo closes his eyes briefly, considering his options.

“If I were to tell you there was a way for magic to no longer be an obstacle…”  He says it with such certainty you do not doubt him for a second “that I could free this world of that sickness that elevates people undeserving and unnecessarily, would you forgive me for the pain it would cause?”

“Do you see yourself as sick, Rollo?”  You move your hand just under his chin, gently directing his head back up to look at you.  Rollo grasps your hand as you do, rising from the floor as he places it just above his frantically beating heart.

“Don’t you?”  There is pain in his eyes.  Pain and sorrow just like every friend you have seen overblot except without the touch of inky madness that precedes it.  “Or am I just like your friends at that school?”

“You aren’t like them.”  It’s a lie of sorts, whatever Rollo has done, you strongly suspect, is no worse or better than anything the others have.  But- “Why do you care about me so much?”  You ask, voice cracking under the strain of your confusion.  Rollo tightens his grip on your hand, his heart is hammering against it as if it wants to burst out of his ribcage and intertwine itself with your hand.  But it cannot, so it satisfies itself with Rollo dipping forward to kiss your lips.  Softly once, gently twice he kisses, before all pretense is lost and he moves in tune with you to hold onto your cape desperately and kiss and kiss and kiss deeply before he needs to come up for air.  He dares not move fully away, taking his breaths just above your lips and slowly continuing to kiss along your jaw and just below murmuring his words as prayers indescribable as he does.  

“I don’t know why.”  Rollo groans in self hatred as you let out a tortured cry “Ever since I saw you I’ve been unable to remove you from my thoughts, my mind burns with flaming desire to throw away my plans,”  he bites, his teeth sink slowly as you grasp at his robes and gasp “to get to know you.  What makes you happy, the things that make you laugh and what makes you cry.  I want to know that I can create a place where someone as lovely and filled with light as you does not feel the need to be anything more than themselves.  Where, when there is danger, you are protected.”  This too, this mad man who proudly sucks just one more mark onto your skin, is your Rollo, your Rollo who is so clearly going through something he will not confess to you and lashing out at the world like every other mage you know and yet…and yet he is saying the things you want to hear.  The things you have longed for any other person to say to you as he rests his forehead against yours, lips bruised by yours and yet still not defiled near enough.  

“When magic causes problems, the fallout should not be yours to take.”  And just like that, you don’t care.  Not nearly as much as you should, you should be hitting him not letting him admire his work as you fall back into a chair he didn’t need to bind you to, and certainly not thinking of how much you wish he had.  You should hold him to the same standard you had the others.  “I’ll come back for you.”  It should frighten you, how quick he is to return to the stoic calm you had met him in as he promises you something awful.  “There are things I need to attend to at the top of the tower, but I swear I will come back to you.”  You don’t have to think hard about who those will be, Malleus’s angry shouts of betrayal at the (likely) false invitation aren’t hard to imagine, hopefully he hasn’t hurt anyone.

“Stay safe.”  You hoarsely whisper, and Rollo briefly pauses in his walk to the door.  Whatever he is thinking you aren’t left wondering long, quickly with a speed you didn’t know he had he darts back to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You too, Yuu.”  He says your name with something like love once he returns to the door, his smile shines with it.  It’s not his fault that you want it to be, is it his fault that you doubt him?  If it is not love Rollo feels then what is it?  Just obsession or-

“AHA!”  A familiar voice knocks you out of your thoughts and onto the floor.  “FINALLY I FOUND YA!”

~~~~

“It would seem I have made a severe and continuous lapse in my judgment.”  Trien’s understatement should fall flat, but Deuce is too busy bouncing his leg to try and dispel his stress.  “I was too focused on trying to make sure you all were not causing trouble, I neglected to consider outside influences.”  There is no need to guess what he is referring to, there is a noticeable absence among the collected NRC students.  “Are you sure you should be thanking him?”  As if Azul can sense Deuce’s thoughts, he begins to voice his own.

“Be that as it may, I doubt Rollo means to actually harm Yuu.  Almost everything he has said to this point about magicless people seems to suggest he thinks they need to be coddled, not punished.”

“Indeed.”  Jamil nods, eyes closed as if he is thinking really hard about something.  “But  his personal feelings towards Yuu is what makes this concerning, that’s what you are thinking I assume Azul?”  

“Like I said,” Azul tries to ignore the cold sweat gathering at the back of his neck, “I doubt he means to harm them, but that doesn't mean his actions won’t have unintended consequences.  Which is why we need to wrap this up as quickly as possible.”

“The rest of you do that.”  Deuce is surprised by how calm he feels, his best friend is in danger, he should be furious.  But all he feels is an unfamiliar determined calm.  “I’ll go look for Yuu.”

“LOLOL what makes you think you need to do that?”  Idia's laughter does spark a bit of a snarl from him, but Idia doesn't back down.  “If Rollo’s following the classic BBGE playbook, Yuu’s got to be in the Bell Tower yeah?  No need to split off into search parties, the princess is always in the final castle.”

“So there you have it.”  Malleus has been disturbingly quiet ever since Epel pointed out how he destroyed the fire lotuses.  His green eyes haven't once moved from their scorched roots, as if he is attempting to sear his anger into the stones below. “I will crush Rollo Flamm under my heel and bring Yuu back to all of us as whole the day they were taken.”

“Dude it has literally been like an hour.”  Idia shakes his head, but Deuce can't help but agree with Malleus. 

“Hold on Yuu, I promise we'll find you.”

~~~~

“Nyhahahaha!  Take that!”  Grim swats the air as if he's cutting through imaginary ropes.  “All those other losers screamin’ and whining as soon as those flowers started poppin up but not the Great Grim!  I jumped all the way up to where that Rollo guy was hangin out and followed him right here to you!”  The story Grim tells you confirms your worst fears, but soothes some of the lesser ones.  You have no doubt that if anyone can solve the threat of the crimson lotus’s it’s Idia, Azul, and Malleus.  As soon as they were done measuring dicks anyway, for now you only have one real thing on your mind; desperately scrambling forward on the floor to scoop Grim up in your arms and hold him tight.  He's trembling, and your heart begins to beat painfully in your chest as Grim starts to sob.  “I was so worried about you.”

“I'm ok Grim.”  You mean it this time, whatever Rollo fed you has well worked its way through your system and left you with the energy to whip away your beloved monster’s tears.  “A bit sleepy but ok.”

“Of course you're OK the Great Grim's here.”  You contine wipe his nose through his sniffles.  “And now he’s gonna get you out of the tower!  Just like a real hero!”  But his bravado has a slight stutter, and yours is fighting a war with your heart.  Your eyes close as you think of Rollo, at the top of the bell tower fighting to defend his delusions from people who would understand only half of what his problems were.  

“I wish I had met him sooner.”  It wouldn’t have stopped this, but you wonder not for the first or last time what would have happened if the poor mage had just had someone to talk to.

“You don’t wanna go do ya.”  Grim frowns, eyes and ears drooping before he remembers he is supposed to be in charge.   “Well then we can stay.  Why should we go back to the other guys!  Yeah!  Screw ‘em!  Always makin’ us do the hard work while they go and have fun.”

“No it’s ok Grim.”  You stand, making sure to still hold onto him as you stand, carefully at first to make sure you are ok to put weight on your legs.  “If we stay here you will never get to be the world’s greatest mage.”

“Yeah…”  Grim does not perk up when you say that, it’s almost enough to make you break out into a sprint in case he has lost too much of his magic already.  “Ya know… henchuman, I don’t wanna go out there alone.  S’ not fun without you.  I don’t wanna be the greatest mage if I have ta not have you.”  

“...I’m not going anywhere Grim.”  You touch your head to his, like a mother cat trying to comfort her kit.  It’s an empty promise you suppose, with how desperate you are to go home.  But if what Rollo had said about teleportation magic was true… then maybe you would just have to pick a place to make a new home instead.  

The rest of the night is a blur.  Somehow you manage to make it down the tower stairs to Deuce, who nearly has a panic attack when he sees you, and Rook who starts composing a poem in ode to Grim’s bravery that gives him a unneeded ego boost.  They do a much better job of explaining what had happened than Grim had.

About the lotuses.  About the pandemonium in the town, about what Azul and Idia had convinced Malleus to do.

“Please don’t ever get kidnapped again.  Malleus got really scary.”  The look on Deuce’s face suggests you will need to give Tsunotarou a lecture later.  A long, long lecture that you suppose you can make somewhat shorter for how glad you are to hear the Bell of Solace ring out.   And for insisting on Rollo still hold the ball.  Getting to see Silver and Sebek try to toss Ruggie, Jamil, and Idia in the air completely makes getting kidnapped worth it.  But…Your friends have not exactly left you alone since the threat ended.  You know why of course, if one of them had been kidnapped you probably would be doing the same thing, but it’s keeping you from some closure.  For someone who promised to come back for you, Rollo sure seems determined to stay away.  It’s making your expression crumple in sadness behind your mask, something you wonder if he notices at all.

~~~~

“I am so grateful to you for providing me with so many memories.”  Malleus holds tightly onto Rollo’s arm as the music flows across the ballroom, piercing gaze strategically keeping him away from the moonlit balcony you have decided to sequester yourself too.  “But I must say there is one matter I think we have neglected to discuss.”

“And what could that possibly be?”  Rollo snaps, the audacity of these Night Raven fools hurts, all he wishes to do is lick his wounds in peace.

“Why, the matter of your unfortunate attachment to my dearest friend.”  Mallues grins, something like fear is finally flickering behind Rollo’s eyes.  How unfortunate.  “The child of man is precious to me, Flamm.  And more importantly they do not share your views on magic.”

“Have you asked them?”  Rollo replies tersely.  

“Why would we need to do that?”  Azul’s voice smoothly interrupts the private dance, he and Idia move to Rollo’s either side, they certainly look concerned.  Angry even.  If there were not mages Rollo would be pleased you had such dedicated friends.

“Because it’s clear from how little you paid attention to their safety this entire trip that you expect them to constantly come away from your magic abuses unscathed.”  He snaps.  “Tell me, if I hadn’t placed them in the tower, what would have happened to them?  Would you have been considerate of their weaknesses?  Yuu is not invincible, and I am ashamed that I of all people seem to be the only one concerned about their safety.”

“No I don’t think you are.”  Azul says.  “Not in the way you think, anyway.  Yuu is extremely capable, we don’t treat them differently from any other student because we hate them, that’s just silly.  Your entire perception of them is based on a terribly prejudiced first impression, and not one nearly as positive as you seem to think.”

“You can just say he has a creepy purity fetish and go.”  Mutters Idia.

“And completely destroy my credibility?”  Azul has more to say, but it's cut off before he can make his point.

“I agree with Shroud.”  Mallues says, causing both Rollo and Azul to choke.  “His treatment of Yuu is very much in line with cult-like devotion towards a magical artifact.  Extremely ironic given his mission statement, wouldn’t you agree, Ashengrotto?”  

“Oh of course!”  Azul laughs, making sure to step forcefully on Idia’s foot before he can go correcting anyone.  “But perhaps back to my point-”

“You don't have one.”  Mutters Rollo, already bored with the conversation and desperate to find you again, just one more time before this entire failed event is over and he has to return to his plans.

“Yuu is a hard worker, and stubborn too.  They do not need magic to be just as capable of what they do as any mage.”  Azul’s words make him pause, he searches desperately for any sign of deception in them, but there isn’t any there.

“You do realize,” he tries slowly, “that none of those qualities make them able to defend themselves from offensive magic, which your Professor at least seems to think you quite willing to use.”

“I mean yeah.”  Says Idia.  “But like, that’s not what he’s trying to say.  If you only choose a route because it has tropes you like then you aren’t really loyal to that character.  If the only reason you don’t want to hurt Yuu is because they haven’t got magic then you are just as bad as any of us.  And trust me, they’re scary smart.  They’ll know.”  And with that cryptic message, Rollo finally finds himself alone with his thoughts.

Two lines.  The first time he saw you the only thing he knew about you was two lines on a sheet of paper that said literally nothing.  And the longer he stares at you, the more he feels like he is drowning under the weight of how little he still knows.

Yuu is a magicless human from a world without magic.  They like to read about myths and legends from different cultures.  They like their cat monster friend and treat him like a sibling.  There, that’s three lines.

Unbidden, his body begins to move towards the balcony where you are standing.  

What is Yuu’s favorite color, do they like croissants?  Are they allergic to any types of pollen, what is their world like?  Do they have siblings, a family that they miss?

He wants to kiss you again, but properly this time.  Not in the throws of a shared delusion, still maybe in the bell tower, but with your full acceptance.

“May I have your hand?”  Rollo feels more sick at the way your eyes light up than anything Malleus had said about guilt and absolution.

“Of course.”  He does not take you out to the center of the dance floor, he does not flaunt you as a trophy won at your friends expense.  He simply winds his arms around you to hold you scandalously close.  “Rollo, do you mind if I ask you some questions?  About some things that Idia told me…”

“Will you give me your number?”  He thinks there is a different way he is supposed to ask a question like that, a nicer one.  “There are a lot of things I want to talk to you about, but tonight I think I want to savor what it feels like to hold you for as long as I can… as long as you are alright with that.”  You do not say anything in response, instead you lay your head against his chest, ear firm on his heartbeat as you close your weary eyes.  “I meant what I said before.  I want you to think of Fleur City as a place where you can find respite.  Solace.”

“Maybe you should invite me to come back then.”  You say and he closes his own eyes to picture it.  He has other places he can take you, better bookstores, more historic places.  Maybe there is a key to sending you home somewhere in his city and if not-

“Careful, I just might ask you to stay forever.”  There is an unspoken aura over you both.  Gentle, new, and warm in a way that Rollo certainly never thought he would be allowed to experience.  An aura of agreement that in time, that might not be such a bad thing to ask after all.

[maybankswhore]

Can u maybe do something we're the reader says something like "I feel so safe w u" to bf jj and it kind of js makes him super happy because he knows she has trust issues

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄.

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader , pronouns used are she/her

summary: jj likes knowing he’s your safe place. basically really , really lovey-dovey couple.

warnings: mentions of anxiety , drug use ( smoking a joint with jj on the beach )

The air felt like a blanket as you laid underneath the sky decorations. Staring at the stars that twinkled in the dark , lighting up the high points of your face. Your head rested in JJ’s lap , inhaling the joint that he had rolled for the two of you earlier in the Twinkie , your body feeling at peace.

It was hard for you to relax most of the time. With everything happening , with everything that had happened already , you were constantly on edge. Looking over your shoulder , wondering when the next big wave of disaster would come and wipe you away. You lived in your anxiety , feeling swallowed.

Moments like these were rare. The moments where nothing else mattered. Where you didn’t think of the things that made you sad. Or the things the choices you’d have to make. Your brain felt empty of all things , and it felt so good.

The weed settling in your bloodstream , warming up all those aches and pains that bothered you. Settling the nausea in your stomach and helping you release all those negative energies.

JJ’s presence enveloped you , shielded you from all the bad things the world could create and throw your way. He anchored you to real life , to bring you back to reality when things got too hard. With him , no matter where you were , but especially there— on the beach , in the designated spot the two of you had claimed , was easily your safest and comfiest place.

You were snapped out of your trance , humming when you felt JJ’s calloused fingertips trace over the skin of your face gently. Your eyes fluttered open , looking up at him as he stared at you. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was messy— and looking at him caused your heart to lurch , to feel all the good things being in love could make you feel.

“What’re you thinking about?” JJ questioned , pinching at the scrunched part of your nose.

“You.” You answered softly , reaching up to mirror his actions. Your hands felt every detail of his face , memorizing the way they felt so you’d never forget him , never forget how soft and beautiful he looked even if you’d go blind and never see it again— you’d remember him in the purest part of your soul.

Your answer made him blush , a sheepish smile on his face as he captured your hand and kissed the palm to hide his embarrassment. “Me?!”

“You.”

“About how sexy and hot I am?” JJ joked , making you giggle.

“No.” You shook your head. Sitting up , you crossed your legs and turned to face him , lazily draping your arms around his shoulders. You leaned into him , kissing at his lips softly. He tasted of weed and stale beer , a hint of caramel from the sundae the two of you shared earlier. JJ kissed you back , falling into the way your lips molded with his in it’s own perfect way. Feeling like finding the missing piece to a puzzle you had been working on for years.

“I was just thinking about how I feel.” You said once you pulled away , cupping his cheeks. “How I always feel so safe , so comfortable.” You felt as though your heart was singing. Every book you read , every movie you watched that you used to complain about how cliche they were , how a love like that was only ever in fiction. But it was real , and it was now and you felt JJ heal every part of you that you didn’t know needed healing. He took the bad parts of you and loved them anyway.

Your words had caused a dull ache in JJ’s chest. Not the ache that hurt , but the kind that settled there. The kind he’d only ever feel for you , about you. He always felt like you deserved more because he only had so much to give— but he had never felt more right for you right now. Because to know that you had been able to find safety within in was worth way more than anything money could buy. Hearts swirled in his eyes as he stared at you , taking a mental screenshot of you with your beauty raw— eyes hooded and red , face bare with soft imperfections littered around the skin.

“I feel the same about you.” JJ told you softly , a sweet grin on his face. “I can be whoever I am , in the deepest parts of me that I’m too scared for anyone else to see. You make me feel seen.”

It was just you and JJ there on that beach , under the stars that watched two lovers fall in love over and over again , for as long as they could. For as long as the world allowed.

[strawbeerossi]

This Is Me Trying

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Ex-wife!Reader

Description: Spencer shows up at his ex wife’s door late in the night, riddled with guilt from years of their separation and needing to confide to her why he left her the first place.

Content Warning: Prison arc discussed but no spoilers, mention of PTSD, mentions of drug addiction/relapse, mention of violence, heart wrenching angst, crying, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex, missionary, lovemaking, aftercare, happy ending.

Word count: 4.5K

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The last thing that she expected was to hear a firm knock against her apartment door. It was ten in the evening, who would need anything from her this late? Maybe it was Mrs. Martin, the sweet little old lady next door, wanting to drop off some freshly baked treat that she wanted her to try before she took it to one of her game nights. Which, Y/N had to admit, she loved when she’d come by with her signature chocolate chip brownies, she always made a heaping amount to share with her younger neighbor just because she expressed liking them one time.

She was approaching the front door. Using the peephole of the door, her heart sunk. Instead of seeing an older woman with a plate of treats in her hand, she was met with Spencer Reid.

It had been years since they talked last, the last time being a tearful Y/N begging her husband not to walk out the door, to stay and work out their marriage that she was afraid was starting to crumble into a thousand pieces. She could remember the bitterness, the hatred in his voice.

“Wait! Spencer, baby, please.” Y/N’s voice was hoarse from sobbing, her throat raw from having to yell over his loud voice just to get him to listen. “I know it’s hard but I need you to stay, we can work this out together. You know that. We always do.” Spencer was turning his head to face his wife, already packing his clothes away. “I don’t want to fucking stay. I don’t want your pity. Ever since I got home, you’re treating me like I’m some sort of child! I’m not!” His tone was laced with venom, enough to make the tears spring up in Y/N’s eyes again.

She knew prison would chip away at the Spencer she’d fallen in love with five years ago but she never expected things to go down like this. She’d done everything she could’ve thought of. She always made him some of his favorite dishes, she’d read to him, she’d hold him when he sobbed in her arms and relived the most traumatic experience he’d went through thus far. It was never enough.

He was different now. Irritable, temperamental, and he had a hard time composing his anger, not to mention that his once beautiful honey colored irises were dull, almost lifeless. He lost himself in prison, he wasn’t ever going to be the same. Instead of always greeting her with a hug and a smile after his days at the BAU or after cases, she was greeted to him starting to distance himself from her. It went from him coming home an hour late, to two hours, then three. She stopped making dinner, she stopped staying up to wait for him, she even stopped trying to reach out to him.

There was guilt, her brain rattled with so many what-ifs. If she left him alone more, would he have stayed with her? Would he have given her the same amount of love and dedication he’d once given her before? What could she have done to make him slowly begin to push her away, to serve her with fucking divorce papers?

Her tears stained the documents, her signature blurred out from how much she sobbed over the idea of losing the one real thing she’d ever known. No matter how much she wanted to hate him for his decision, she just couldn’t. Spencer had her heart, he took it with him out of the door when he left her, tucked away in his suitcase covered by the numerous suits and other necessities.

She was pulled out of her pain filled memories the moment she heard yet another knock. Was this a cruel joke? She was taking in a breath, collecting what little confidence she could manage to build up before she was unlocking the front door, her hand shaking from fear. As she was opening the door just enough to peak her head out, her lips were pursed in a fine line.

“Spencer.” Y/N spoke, her gaze firm on the man who had given up on her. “Hi, Y/N.” His voice was soft, a stark contrast to the tone of their last conversation. “Can I come in..?” He asked, though his hand was slowly resting against the front door as he pushed it open, Y/N taking a few steps back to grant him access. She should’ve slammed the door shut, she should’ve locked it and sent him on his way. Yet here she was, slowly closing the door as she invited him to make himself at home.

“What are you doing here?” It took a lot of courage for her to open her mouth, her arms slowly crossing over her chest. She wasn’t going to cry anymore, mainly because she was so tired of crying over him. She’d done it enough within the past few years, if anything, she should’ve been out of tears.

“I’m here to talk.”

“Talk about what?”

“Y/N. I haven’t been honest with you. Guilt has been eating away at me and I can’t help but feel shitty.”

You should.

She’d never say it out loud but judging by the face she made, Spencer already knew what went through her mind.

“I just want to apologize. You are owed that much. Whenever I got out of prison.. I was a different person entirely. I stopped putting much effort into any of my personal relationships..” He began, which before his ex wife could cut him off, he was looking up from his feet with glassy eyes. “It’s because I was getting comfort from.. Other influences. Dilaudid.”

Spencer’s last addictions never defined him throughout their entire relationship, in fact, she was proud of him. He’d been doing so good, the temptation coming up every now and then but she’d be there to push him, to give him so much love and support to try and curb the relapse that could occur.

“Drugs change the writing of neurotransmitters in your brain, which can lead to aggression or mood swings. That’s why I was always hostile towards you and why I didn’t want to be around you.” Spencer explained, eyes on the ground in shame while his hands were coming up to rest over his face. “I knew I had a problem, I did. There was one day when you were trying to get me to eat lunch and.. I wanted to hurt you.” His voice broke at the admission, unable to meet her gaze. “That made me realize that I had a problem. A problem that I couldn’t control. If I couldn’t control my emotions, I would get to the point where I couldn’t control my actions..”

Just the thought of that scared the hell out of him.

“I left because I didn’t want to hurt you. It would kill me if I ever did anything to you. I mean, I was already spiralling because of the vivid nightmares from prison. PTSD and drug use are a horrible combination, dangerous. I couldn’t risk hurting you.”

The explanation had hot Y/N like a ton of bricks. How could she not notice he had a relapse, she was supposed to be by his side and she couldn’t even fucking tell that he was struggling with impulse control as well as his emotions. “Why didn’t you tell me? Spencer, I could’ve helped you.” She whispered, stepping closer to her ex husband while slowly taking her hands in his.

“Because you didn’t deserve a damaged husband who would weigh you down. I can’t expect you to babysit me all day and night, it wouldn’t be fair to you. You have a career, you have friends, you have so much going for you. I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if you threw your life away to essentially take care of me.” His words were barely above a whisper, as if the two had a risk of anyone listening in on their conversation.

“You are not damaged.” Y/N scolded softly while she was squeezing his hands slowly. “Spencer, I love you so much, I’ll always be here for you. Wife or not.” She said softly while her hand was now coming to rest gently against his cheek, as if he were fragile and one wrong move would shatter him like a stained glass window.

Spencer was finally meeting the irises that he couldn’t ever get out of his mind, the way there was a shine in them. Eyes were the window to the soul and hers reflected a beautiful, colorful soul and a strong fighting spirit she always carried with her. Even when she was broken down, that shine was there.

Her love was radiating onto him at the smallest touch, the man’s eyes closing briefly as if to compose himself. “I love you so much, Y/N. I will never be able to forgive myself for the way I pushed you away, the way I ended our marriage. I should’ve confided in you sooner. I just.. I was worried about you.” His words were genuine, a gentle smile spreading across his face. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He whispered soon after.

If his pupils could be the shape of hearts, they would be. One thing about Y/N was that he adored her. He cherished her, took care of her. Even in the end when things went south, part of him still had that love that was locked away behind a crippling addiction that broke him down in the worst way possible. “When I wanted to just go back to using, I thought of you. How proud you’d be of me if I held off, how you’d tell me I did an amazing job getting back on track. You are my inspiration.” He whispered, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks, holding her face in his hands as his thumbs traced over her soft skin.

There was a soft smile gracing Y/N’s features. “I am so proud of you. It takes a lot to admit when you have a problem, it takes even more to better yourself. Even if I’m not fond of the way you went about it, I understand.” She was honest. She didn’t like how he had to divorce her and disappear from her life. Nobody in their right mind would be okay with that.

For the first time since he’d came inside, there was a content silence filling the living room. It was comfortable. For the first time, home felt like home. However as the both of them stayed within each other’s embrace, it wasn’t long before Spencer was leaning down to kiss her.

Their lips met in a bittersweet collision, as years of longing and unresolved emotions surged through their bodies. The kiss began tenderly, a delicate exploration of familiar territory, before gradually intensifying with the fiery passion that had once defined their relationship. In that moment, they momentarily forgot the pain that had driven them apart, reveling in the sheer magnetism that still bound them together. There was no more pain, no more wondering what had gone wrong.

Their tongues danced in a rhythm only they could understand, tasting the remnants of past love and the promise of a future reignited. As they reluctantly pulled away, their gaze locked, and they both knew that their love still burned strong, an everlasting flame that kept them bound together. After all they’d been through, the love and care was permanent.

While drawing in a breath, Y/N kept her gaze on Spencer before slowly running her hands up his chest. It wasn’t a suit tailored for him like she’d been so used to before, instead a casual cotton shirt. In a way, it was comforting. He thought about her at times where he wasn’t chasing evil men and women on cases, when instead he was home at.. Well, wherever he lived now.

“Do you want to stay tonight?” She asked after a moment, her words coming out slow and her tone delicate, as if she had to worry about scaring him off if she was anything but. “I always sleep so much better with you..” She added on soon after while playing with a loose thread on the shirt, almost as if she had to distract herself from the way her heart was nearly beating out of her chest.

It gave her flashbacks to when she and Spencer had first started dating, the both of them being soft with each other. The way that they’d both be nervous to ask the other to stay the night or when they’d be laying together and spoil each other in the wonders of intimate touch, their lips moving in sync.

That seemed so long ago now.

“Yes,” Spencer responded, not needing to spare a second thought. “I’d love to.” His own heart was racing, the feeling of being home slowly coming back to him. The comfort of Y/N being home, willing to hold him when he needed her. Tonight, he knew he needed her. In more ways than one.

Without a passing thought, the woman was being lifted into his arms while Spencer was reattaching their lips. There was love and need, yearning for the soft touch that they once shared. With the feeling of fingers tangling in his longer hair, he was almost running back to the bedroom that he’d remembered so well.

Without breaking the contact of their lips, Spencer was leaning down while carefully placing Y/N on her back, as if she was breakable. She needed to be handled with care, with appreciation. Not anyone would accept their ex husband despite his faults or listen to him when he’s explaining why he left. Most women would probably slam the door in his face. Not Y/N. Not the woman with a heart of gold. He didn’t deserve her love but she was willing to continue serving it to him.

Once she was on her back, Spencer was slowly pulling away. “I love you.” He whispered, the words just falling out of his mouth, reverting back to the ways that once were. The nights where they’d lay in the darkness, embracing one another during lazy post-coital conversations before falling asleep in those same positions.

“I love you so much.” He repeated as he felt like she needed to know his feelings never changed. His lips began to trail down her neck, his hands running down the silk nightgown. “I love you.” Y/N finally whispered in return, her head relaxing in her pillow while her eyes were fluttered shut, melting at each placed kiss.

Spencer let his teeth graze the now burning skin of her neck, eliciting a beautiful moan to fall from the woman’s lips.

This was heaven.

His lips were moving from her neck soon after that, his head lifting while the two were interlocking in a shared loving gaze. “You can keep going, you know.” She whispered, a little giggle leaving her lips at the way his eyes glistened in the soft lighting of the bedside lamp at her urging him to continue.

Spencer’s fingers were coming up to the flimsy straps of the nightgown, slowly pulling them from her arms while leaning down to trail kisses along her right shoulder. His hands were working to slowly tug the sleep garment off, almost as if he had to carefully unwrap a present to preserve the wrapping paper. He didn’t want to rush this. He wanted her to see how much he truly did love and miss her.

He’d take care of her tonight.

Once she lifted her hips to assist in discarding the nightgown, he was drinking in the sight of the near bare woman in front of him.

Spencer had eidetic memory, however, when it came to Y/N’s body, you’d think it was his first time seeing it. The way his cheeks would flush, the way he’d revert back to being the shy man who couldn’t help but stare as if she were a beautiful oil painting hanging in one of the highest esteemed art galleries in Paris, France.

He was now sitting between her open legs, eyes scanning over her body as his large hands were slowly running up her inner thighs. “I’ve missed you, so much.” He spoke, gaze now moving to the beautiful smile that was spreading across her face. “I’m glad you’re here.” She spoke softly, the two basking in the moment. There was no rush, no. Instead, they were enjoying the intimacy of soft touches, admiring bodies, sharing longing glances.

“May I?” He asked, fingers now getting dangerously close to the place where she needed him most.

“Of course.” Her head nodded, a blush on her face.

The panties she had on had a sizeable wet patch in the center of them, her body reacting so positively to his kisses, his touch, everything. His fingers were slowly running over her clothed cunt, electricity shooting through her body at the mere touch.

“My beautiful girl.” His voice was husky now, fingers looping in the waistband of her panties before he was tugging them down her thighs, a groan ripping from his throat once he could see her glistening pussy, sticky with arousal. “God, I love you.” He repeated for what felt like the millionth time in the night.

Spencer was getting up momentarily, pulling his shirt over his head before discarding his pants as well, leaving him in his boxers. As he’d gotten onto the bed, he was now laying between her thighs, hips pressed into the bed for when he ultimately needed relief of his own.

With one hand keeping her plush thighs apart, his tongue was now licking a stripe up her pussy, collecting just a taste of her arousal. Hearing her shaky breath from above him was enough to encourage his movements. After a few more long and teasing licks, his fingers were coming up to spread her puffy labia apart, his lips blowing cool air while the woman was mewling from pleasure, goosebumps spreading across her skin.

He ate like a man starved, his tongue lapping up all she had to offer to him, like eating one of the ripest fruits on the vine that was bursting with more flavor and sweetness after being freshly pulled from the tree branch. His chin was coated in her glistening juices, his nose brushing against her clit while his tongue was focused on swiping over her velvety walls.

With the sounds of pornographic moans filling the room along with the way her fingernails were digging in his scalp, it became to a point where Spencer was desperate for relief, his hips rocking against the mattress while he was focused on bringing the woman to her peak. As soon as he could feel her thighs begin to shake and her words were more incoherent, he knew what was to come next.

It wasn’t long though until he was pulling away, chuckling at the way she was desperately clenching around nothing as soon as he pulled away. “Hold on, pretty girl.” He purred, getting his fingers lubed up with his own spit before he was plunging them into the woman, a low moan leaving his lips as she was greedily clenching around his digits and pulling them in more.

“There we go.” He praised, the two fingers being thrusted inside of her needy core.

“I’m gonna— oh fuck, Spencer.” Y/N breathed out as her eyes were squeezing shut, her words encouraging him to fuck her faster with his fingers. She could feel the coil tightening in her stomach, her moans and whimpers of his name falling steadily from her lips.

All it took was him curling his fingers and pushing against her spongy sweet spot before she was cumming around his fingers, her hips rocking steadily against Spencer’s hand as she was doing her best to catch her breath, chest rising and falling rapidly.

As she’s ridden out the high, Spencer’s hair was being tugged in a gesture that was telling him move your ass, Reid.

So he was nearly stumbling to crawl up to hover over her again, the two attaching their lips in a much needed, more messy kiss than before. “Please,” She mumbled against his lips, making Spencer pull away. “Please what?” He asked, needing to hear her say it.

“I need you.”

Those words had his already hard cock aching in his boxers, making him stumble a bit just to get them down his legs before they were being tossed with the rest of the clothes in the bedroom.

“I don’t have a condom.” Spencer spoke, letting out a hiss of pleasure from the feeling of her hand wrapping around his cock to give it a few tugs. “We don’t need one. I don’t care right now.” Her voice came out in a desperate tone, making the man nod as he was letting her line up his tip with her leaking mound.

He was pushing into her slowly, sinking all the way to the hilt while the two let out a collective moan, Spencer’s head falling against Y/N’s shoulder as he let his eyes flutter shut, kisses being sponged to her shoulders as he gave her a minute. The way her hands were gripping onto him was a big indicator that just like himself, she’d probably not really gotten much action in a while.

“I’m ready.” She whispered, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she was practically hugging him close. “I’ll go slow.” He spoke in return, now lifting his head to smear their lips against one another’s.

Spencer loved slow and intimate sex, the way they were pressed flush against one another, drinking each others moans while the world slowly stood still. His hips were thrusting at a steady pace, the feeling of her legs wrapping around his waist just to try and bury him impossibly deeper inside of her.

It was the ultimate form of love. Being able to savor one another, enjoy the closeness. There were times in the past where the two would talk and even giggle with one another while his cock was buried inside of her. It was comforting in its own odd way.

Tonight though, there wasn’t much talking. Instead there was soft, loving kisses, the mixture of moans and groans falling between the both of them, as well as the sound of the bed squeaking along with each thrust that the man made.

There was nothing but love in that bedroom, the two whispering sweet nothings to one another and making promises that would fully be fulfilled going forward. This was going to be the start of something beautiful, that was something the two were confident of.

“I’m close,” Spencer’s words were being muffled into Y/N’s mouth, the woman slowly pulling out of their shared kiss while she was bringing her hands up to cup his cheeks. “Me too, don’t stop.” Her words were soft, a moan leaving her lips as she was letting her eyes flutter shut, head falling back against the mattress as she could feel her stomach tightening again.

“I love you so much, Y/N. Fuck.” His words slurring together as he brought one hand between their bodies, his thumb swiping over her clit in order to have her cum first. He prided himself on pleasuring her first and foremost, himself being mostly an afterthought.

As the warmth of her orgasm was washing over her, Y/N was hugging him as close as she could get him while a soft cry of the male’s name slipped from her lips. Chasing her orgasm, it wasn’t long until Spencer was letting go, a few more thrusts doing the trick as his warm cum was filling her to the brim. The feeling had the woman shuddering in pleasure.

With a thin layer of sweat coating their skin and their bodies still intertwined, Spencer was turning his attention down to the woman who he felt an intense and burning love for. “I promise you that I am not going anywhere this time. I’m tired of fighting M on my own.” His words were soft, his breathing still uneven. “I love you and I never want to be away from you like that again..”

“I love you so much more. You know that I’m always here for you, right? No matter what you’re struggling with. We are supposed to always be by each other’s sides. I made that promise to you and I never intend on breaking it.” Y/N assured.

“How about we to get cleaned up?” The make suggested, forcing himself to move away from the warmth of her embrace briefly. Instead of letting her get up though, Spencer’s hand was wrapping around her ankle before he was playfully pulling her to the end of the bed, making the woman laugh as she was being lifted in his arms.

“You could’ve broke my leg!” She gasped, a teasing tone chasing the words as she was letting her arms wrap around his shoulders, lips pressing kisses across his face.

A she was carefully sitting her on the edge of the tub, Spencer was turning on the faucet. After he’d gotten the water warm enough for the both of them, he’d retrieved the plug for the drain. Approaching the bathroom cabinet, he was kneeling down and rummaging until he was grinning triumphantly as he was retrieving a bottle of bubble bath soap, holding it up. “I knew you’d never get rid of this. As dumb as it sounds, I was so pissed because I didn’t take this with me.”

After putting a generous amount of the soap in the tub and watching it foam up, he was waiting until the tub was filled to their liking until he was turning off the water. He was the first to step in, getting comfortable before holding his hand out to help Y/N get in, a smile on his face. Even if it was a little awkward considering he was a tall guy in a small tub, they managed to get comfortable together with her on his lap.

One of her hands was collecting a bit of bubbles from the water before she was moving to place them over his face, a little laugh leaving her lips as she’d given him a bit of a bubble beard. “How old are we?” Spencer asked teasingly as he was doing the same thing with her, the two unable to help the soft laugh filling the bathroom.

“So, I have a legitimate question,” Spencer began while leaning back against the tub, a smile on his face. “Does this mean we have to get married again?”

The question made Y/N pull a face as she was pondering over the question. He had a point. How did this work?

“I say yes. Only because I think you owe me a much bigger wedding this time.” She joked, making the male laugh.

“My queen gets whatever she wants.”

[val-cansalute]

𝙱𝙴𝚈𝙾𝙽𝙳 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝟶𝟸

summary: two years later, ellie’s back in jackson. from what you’ve heard, she’s not exactly been doing great either.

warnings: angst with no comfort yet (ITS COMING I PROMISE), you’re in another relationship (ellie gets kind of jealous…), vague ref. to drug abuse and addiction

an: sorry this took like five years, as always, love you guys, stay safe, never stop talking about palestine. do your clicks. :-)

chapter 1

TWO YEARS LATER

There should probably, definitely be a lot of things on Ellie’s mind right now but, truthfully, the exhaustion flooded them all out.

She’s been sitting next to Tommy in his shitty, busted, old truck in the densest silence she’s ever been in, hurtling her way back to the place she was damn sure she was never going to see again just a few months back, and all she can think about is how badly she wants to close her eyes and finally fucking sleep, but he keeps throwing out questions randomly, and Ellie feels obligated to answer them all given the fact that he just picked her scrawny ass up from rehab following almost a year of no contact.

She takes in a sharp breath of air. It doesn’t rattle her lungs as much as it used to. Then, she swallows, forcing a gulp down the dry enclosure of her throat, and turns to look at Tommy.

“Hm?”

“Am I taking you to ours or yours?”

“What?”

“Jesus- Am I driving you down to Maria and I’s, or are you gonna go back to your old house?”

Ellie’s brain stutters.

The impending situation is suddenly becoming too real.

You were starring in the film in her mind ever since the one-way flight to LA, and every time you came up on screen, she felt her stomach wrench with longing, with guilt.

She was far from home, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by people who’s faces were unfamiliar and, quite frankly, scary. She had no idea how the fuck she ended up where she did, but she knew that the thoughts she needed a distraction from required remedies more concentrated than whiskey.

The last few months were especially shit: stuck in that building with junkies who would be back in just as long as they stayed, with nothing to do but sit with every last one of those thoughts.

Joel’s death had beaten her to a pulp; she was only just beginning to be able to talk about him, to draw him, to remember him, without all the anger and all the all-consuming guilt. Only just beginning to do that after the absolute shit-show her life became for a long moment. Yes, Joel’s death beat the hell out of her, but she herself delivered the finishing blow.

There is a lot of guilt in Ellie’s life, towards Joel, towards Tommy, towards her friends, towards you – more than she can bear for this lifetime and maybe the next few too. So, like she promised herself, there’s no use in any of it. All she can do is just focus on each day and try to make things right where she can.

The question plagues her mind, the one she has absolutely no right to ask, of whether or not you’ll be there, whether or not you waited for her. She doesn’t know which would be worse.

“Mine.”

Tommy nods, glancing at her before shifting his line of view back to the road and Ellie lets out a small puff of air. She hopes things can go back to how they used to be between the two of them one day. Joel’s death also beat the hell out of Tommy. In fact, Ellie was slightly surprised to hear that Tommy’s place was “Maria and I’s” again, since they weren’t exactly on good terms when she left, divorced and all.

“Do… Do you know if… she’s still staying there?”

He goes quiet, dropping the coy exchange of practised words and turns to look at Ellie for longer than what’s considered road safe.

“… Honestly, I’m not sure. Haven’t seen her in a while. But, come to think of it, I must’ve heard someone mentionin’ some’ about her stayin’ with someone for a while... You, uh, you sure you’re gonna be okay goin’ back to yours?”

“Yeah… I mean… It’s gotta happen eventually.”

Tommy nods, breathing out,

“That it does,"

And Ellie reclines into the hardened cushion of the seat, pressing her cheek to it to rest, gazing out at the familiar sequence of buildings blurring by. She thinks she should probably drop by Dina’s tomorrow.

Ellie’s become mythical. 

“I just got a text from Jesse…”

You look up from your screen at Dina, who is sprawled out across from you on the couch. She sits up, all serious, and the look in her eyes tells you she knows you’re not going to like what you’re about to hear.

“He said Ellie’s coming back to Jackson.”

Sometimes you have these… dreams, if you can even call them that; nothing about them is hazy or dream-like, just… like your mind opens up a part of itself that you keep closed when you’re in control and forces you to look at it.

You’re lucid every time, of course, even your subconscious knows that it’s impossible for Ellie to be near you, to be smiling at you the way she used to.

No. She walked out and didn’t look back. And, in all honesty, you can't even blame her for that. Not when she was falling apart back here just the same. Not when she wasn't even herself anymore, when the thoughts got a hold of her.

When you open your eyes, you can’t bring yourself to look at your girlfriend laying next to you. She feels like a stranger who sleeps in your apartment sometimes.

Your mind strays, and you wonder if that’s how Ellie felt about you. Then, you close your eyes again and try to soothe the nausea that inevitably builds in your stomach - flex your fingers to remind yourself that you're a living, breathing person, who can’t just rot in sheets, clinging to morsels of sleep.

When Ellie left, there was a massive gaping hole in, not just your heart, but your entire life. You tried to stay put in the house but, God, it was painful. The dusty trinkets she left behind lining the desk alone were like totems of your one-man cult devoted to her.

You packed all your shit soon after, leaving Ellie’s exactly as it was.

At first, crashing at Dina’s place was a temporary fix, but it turned out you desperately needed the company and Dina loved having someone around to bother too. Things got better slowly, or at least they stopped hurting as much.

So, every day, you stumble out of bed and get ready for the shitty little job you got to make yourself feel human again, kissing the girl you’ve been fucking around with for way too long, and then waving goodbye to Dina as you go.

You’re rebuilt, no longer in pieces like you were when she left. In fact, your mind doesn’t look back on her much anymore, but there are traces of what she did to you in everything you do.

The way you put yourself back together, it’s a bit twisted up, not quite the same. 

Dina’s eyes never leave yours, gaze firm in its preemptive empathy, though there’s not much use. Your mind must have malfunctioned; there’s not a single emotion playing out in it right now but there absolutely, definitely should be. You’re just not sure which.

After a tense moment passes, you hum in feigned pensiveness.

She was playing bigger venues is what you heard – sold out shows, collaborating with artists she used to dream of meeting, getting into scandals and posting snapshots of her new, flashier life, or at least her manager was.

You knew Ellie, and you were well aware that she felt like a phony doing shit like that.

But, then again, you thought you knew she wouldn’t leave you for LA too.

A while back, it was radio silence. Her posts stopped, the new releases ceased abruptly, and it was as if she had vanished, dropped off the face of the planet.

Rehab is what the shitty gossip threads were saying. The things you began being told every now and then were hard to hear: she was foaming at the mouth, being seen in a random state thousands of miles away with little recollection of how she got there, drunk off her ass again at an awards show. Shards of glass, cutting through the fragile peace you'd built.

At the time, it still impacted you, of course. She was once your girl. But you were forced to look it in the eye: the fact that she was in the worst shape you’d seen her in when you came across images of her online, with sunken cheeks; yellowed, bloodshot eyes looking emptier than ever, and dry, chapped lips. Fuck, it made your stomach writhe with pain. She was still suffering, only scraps left of who she used to be.

Not that you expected anything other than deterioration.

Dina inhales sharply, nodding as she struggles through the wording of the question she’s about to pose,

“…How are you feeling?”

It doesn’t matter though. None of that matters, because you’ve moved forward. You live in a different neighborhood, with different hopes, a different job, and a different girlfriend.

“…I’m not exactly gonna welcome her with open arms, if that’s what you’re expecting. But, you know what? I’m okay.”

Different.

She nods again.

“I mean, it’s been a long time, D. I’ve moved on.”

Dina smiles at you reassuringly, and it pisses you off because why is she reassuring you? You said you’re fine, didn’t you?  What reason is there to be all empathetic?

“Yeah, of course, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I mean, it’s completely normal to feel… upset, I guess, even if you’ve moved on. She was still super important to you for some time in your life, even if things didn’t exactly end well.”

“Yeah… Well, I don’t really wanna see her, but I hope she’s doing better.”

She doesn’t know what she expected, but she couldn’t stay in that house.

The first step in was cautious, casting hesitant glances into the darkness in the hope that she’d catch a glimpse of something that would tell her you’re home, before she took notice of the hollowness.

Everything was spotless and your things were gone.

The display case with your tea set was empty, the little trinkets on your bedside table were nowhere to be found, your side of the closet was barren, and every trace of the life you shared had disappeared. The house seemed to be cocooned in a layer of dust, preserving only the imprint of Ellie.

You’d left the duvet and a pillow tapped up for her on the bed you shared if she ever did come home, but that bed is too big for her alone now.

Ellie turned around and walked out, leaving it all behind again. She wasn’t sure where to go, though she was positive she needed to be alone, away from all the people she’d hurt. Away from all the damage she’d done.

So, she walks till her muscles ache out to a motel on the other side of town, praying the dark keeps her face hidden enough from anyone who might recognize her and makes a nest in the stained sheets and matted carpet floor, because she much prefers this discomfort to the one in that house. Alone with her thoughts and the mechanical whir of the AC, she doesn’t want to cry; she doesn’t have the right to, but when a tear escapes, the dam breaks. At least it helps her sleep better.

The night passes like a flash and daylight filters through the grimy motel windows, past Ellie’s tired eyelids. She stirs awake, rubbing a hand down her face groggily, and lays in the haze for a while.

She’s supposed to see Dina today. The only friend she really ever kept in contact with while on her long ass bender and throughout her stay at the facility was Jesse, because she couldn’t bring herself to face Dina, not when she was in that state.

She has absolutely no idea what will happen, and it’s terrifying. But she can’t deny that she feels a deep-seated anxiety that can only be satiated by asking Dina about you, though the questions themselves haven’t exactly been decided on yet. She thinks she’ll quickly tire of having no idea what will happen but she doesn’t have much of a choice, so she slinks out of bed and trudges over to the sink to freshen up before setting off.

After confusing the fuck out of a half-deaf old man at Dina’s old apartment and a text exchange with one of their mutual acquaintances, Ellie finally shows up at what she really hopes is the right door and delivers a series of three shy knocks.

When the door is opened, she is immediately overtaken by a wave of warmth and the scent of freshly made pancakes. She still has a hard time getting food down but, honestly, she’d start drifting through the air towards it if she were in a cartoon.

Then, she looks up and, for a moment, her face falls at the sight of another unfamiliar face, but her eyes catch a glimpse of someone else across the apartment and Ellie’s heart stills.

You stare down at the text Nathan just sent you with guilt-ridden relief. A family emergency means the café isn’t going to open today, so you don’t have to go to work.

Feeling happy that Nathan has a family emergency makes you feel a little ashamed too, because Nathan’s a standup guy, but you didn’t get nearly enough sleep last night, and getting up to go to work with the tiresome deadweight of your eyebags is the last thing you need right now.

In truth, all that has been on your mind since that godforsaken exchange with Dina on the couch yesterday is Ellie, and the night following was a restless one. You laid in bed, staring at the ceiling with a permanent furrow in your brow that was making your face ache, unable to quiet the torrent of memories and emotions in your mind, feeling like you were back in that house again, trying to sleep the night after she walked out.

You tossed and turned, grasping pathetically for comfort, but every position felt like suffocation. In your dark and still room, you felt like you were going to rupture with the pressure of the whirlwind inside you against the confines of your skull.

Each second dragged out longer than the last. Each second, you remembered what it felt like to be with her and then to watch her fade, and it was all so vivid, so inescapable. You’re not even sure if you can call it longing, because what settles in your stomach feels a lot more like anguish, distress, a desperate hope for her to be in a better place. You so badly want to believe you’ve moved on from her, but the truth is so glaringly obvious that you can’t even turn away from it, so you just close your eyes.

You don’t want to think about her today. You’ll do anything to not think about her today.

You guess it’s a good thing Dina set off early because even the sight of her would’ve reminded you of Ellie.

Instead, when you glance to your left at the rustle of bed sheets beside you and see Alexis rubbing the sleep from her puffy eyes, you smile softly and try to feel some semblance of warmth at the fact that you can just laze around with her for now.

Alexis smiles back, groggily stretching the arm tossed over your waist and running it gently along your side.

There is a sinking in the pit of your stomach, though, at the realization that things are getting very domestic for something that was supposed to be ‘casual.’ You know now more than ever that you cannot handle that.

When she leans in and works her lips on the crook of your neck, mumbling,

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” you take it as your queue to sit up, shifting away from her.

“Good morning, babe. I got the day off, so I think I’m gonna start on breakfast. You want anything?”

Normally, she’s the one who makes breakfast, but you try not to acknowledge that the guilt of your impending split pushes you to take the reins this time.

Alexis crosses her arms behind her head, watching intently as you tug on some pants and states,

“You know, I’m kinda in the mood for pancakes.”

While she clears up the scattering of wrappers discarded along the couch from the evening before, you set up at the stove, and for the first time in a long moment, the feeling is golden, laced with the gentle timbre of Sade’s voice spilling from your phone as you put on your playlist and keep an ear out for the hiss of the coffee machine.

Your love is king, crown you in my heart.

The wall buzzes from the beat of a knock at the front door, but Alexis is already up on her feet, clarifying that she’ll ‘get it.'

Your love is king, never need to part,

You lift your head to offer a greeting from behind the kitchen island to the visitor and the air is choked out of your windpipes instantly. Around you, the noise and color fades to grey so all you can hear is the echo of your own heartbeat and a shrill ringing pounding in your ears, the blood rush making it feel like your whole body is palpitating.

Your kisses ring round and round and round my head,

Across the room, the air between you becomes charged and strained with the weight of the years that part you, the memories that became dust, crumbling beneath the pressure of careful fingertips.

Touching the very part of me, it’s making my soul sing,

You’re suspended in the memorial waves like cicadas in amber, before Alexis breaks the spell, glancing between the two of you perplexedly,

“Uh... Hey?”

Tearing the very heart of me, I’m crying out for more.

You reach out and pause the song, your eyes meeting the text Dina sent just a few minutes prior.

𝚒 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢

𝚓𝚞𝚕𝚒𝚊 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝

𝚒 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗

You take in a sharp breath of air, inflating your figure before you look back up at the wide-eyed girl standing in the doorway, whispering a weary,

“Ellie…”

Ellie doesn’t quite catch it, pushing out a softer than intended explanation in the face of people looking at her like she is an alien.

"I... I came to see Dina."

You nod, slowly, unsurely, fingers curling around the edge of the countertop. When you’ve finally mustered up the strength to speak, you respond,

"She’s gonna be out for a while. You can wait inside."

You’re surprised by the harshness in your tone.

Ellie presumably is too, lingering in the doorway for a moment, and the tension in the room is palpable, so Alexis, makes up an out.

"I gotta go… grab… something,”

The auburn-haired girl’s gaze follows her as she leaves, before she quietly moves into the room, clicking the door shut behind her with a tightened jaw. She thinks that maybe if she stands still enough, it’ll be like she’s not even there, like she doesn’t even exist, but when you bring Alexis’ mug of coffee to the table by the couch for her to drink, you pull the chair out wordlessly, eyes held fast to anything but Ellie’s, before going back the stove to turn it off.

"Who's she?" Ellie wants to ask. She’s not an idiot, so she doesn’t.

Instead, she sits down quietly, watching you with weary eyes.

Ellie doesn’t look so gaunt anymore. At a certain point, she couldn’t even recognise herself when she looked in the mirror. She’s still too skinny, hair dishevelled, eyes red, and her face is littered with small scars and the remnants of a black eye, but you can look at her without wanting to break down now, or at least not for the same reasons.

You say a silent thank you to whoever’s out there looking out for her and then turn around to face her.

“I… I’m sorry, I should’ve… I didn’t mean to… I didn’t kno-”

“It’s fine, Ellie.”

A beat passes before she looks up at you, eyes wide,

“How… How have you been?”

You try to take in air without it catching as you respond, keeping your eyes on the counter.

“I’m okay.”

“Good… That’s good.” Ellie picks at a loose thread on the hem of her sleeve, chewing at her bottom lip, “I’m sorry.”

It comes out a whisper, breathless, and you close your eyes before saying,

“You know what, Ellie? It was hard at first. Really hard. I got really lonely, and I missed you a lot. I tried to make it work in that place and it just didn’t. But its been 2 whole years. I’m… I’m not the same...”

“I really am sorry. I fucked up- I should never have gone to LA. I never should’ve-”

She takes a moment to breathe, squeezing her eyes shut as she tries to work through the explosion of thoughts, wishing she’d just kept her mouth shut, wishing she’d had more time to think of what to say, wishing she’d just stayed in that fucking motel room.

“I should’ve tried harder to get better…  I-I know that… it might not be possible, but I checked myself into rehab, and… and I want to try to make things right… I just- I don’t want to live like that anymore, I don’t wanna be alone anymore-”

You let her speak, the lump in your throat growing painfully as you watch her fumble sadly through her words.

“I know we can’t go back to how things used to be- I just… want to make things right and I don’t know how or what that means but-”

Alexis walks back into the room, making her way over to Ellie with a tight-lipped smile before she can finish what she wants to say.

“Sorry, had to go do that thing. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Alexis, she must’ve told you already but I’m her girlfriend.”

Ellie looks up at her with wide eyes,

“Oh.”

She holds her hand out to shake and Ellie takes it before reclining into her seat silently, staring at the wooden table in front of her.

Suddenly, it has become very apparent to Ellie that she lost her place in your life a long time ago, as a friend and as a partner, and she feels like an alien again.

She clenches her jaw.

“It’s… Uhhh, it’s nice to meet you too but I should get going. Dina won’t be back for a while so there’s… no point in sticking around.”

You think of stopping her, of telling her to sit back down, but you know this is for the best as you watch her scramble to her feet, looking like a kicked puppy, and walking back out the door.

Things will never be the same. You can’t go back to how things were, and your head knows you shouldn’t trust Ellie’s words.

But, when she sat in front of you at that table, telling you she didn’t want to be alone anymore, you thought you saw something you haven’t seen in a long time, a sliver of your Ellie. Of her old self, of her resilience, of her will, of her love and hopes.

And you so badly want to believe you’re over her, but the truth is looking you right in the eye, and some supermassive weight has lifted off your shoulders.

“Dude, was that literally Ellie fucking Williams?!”