#and it’s been so hard lately I just keep distancing myself from everyone because I’m overloaded with work

[ropebuny]

I want a dad so bad I’m going to cry and throw a tantrum. I don’t want to be an adult, I want to stop thinking and be taken care of like a kid & feel safe and cared for again

[lividstar]

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤTHE CITY OF LOVE

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ Chapter Eleven: You Wonder why I’m Bitter

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ < previous | next >

masterpost

៚ wc: 8.2k (total: ???)

៚ fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), slowburn, strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, do french people actually say bonjour irl?

៚ playlist !

៚ Alone and aching for the connection that once felt so natural, you reluctantly turn to an unlikely companion: Pompidou, who listens to you pour out all the longing you’ve fought so hard to bury. While you grapple with the emptiness left by Hongjoong’s sudden withdrawal, he, too, finds himself lost, wrestling with the very feelings he’s tried to deny. Haunted by memories and choices he can’t quite reconcile, Hongjoong is caught between the familiarity of the past and the confusing reality of the present.

a/n: was supposed to upload this on the 27th cause that’s my birthday but i just can’t wait any longer 😅 keep an eye out for the littlest of details because nothing is as it seems in this chapter :P lmk what you guys think!

tags: @beabatiny @babymbbatinygirl

First of all, I hate myself. Second of all, I hate myself. Oh, and did I already mention that I hate myself? I just don’t know what to do anymore! It feels like it’s been a whole decade ever since I last picked up a pen to scribble on this godforsaken journal… I wish I could just go back to the time I was writing the page behind the one I’m writing on right now and just cancel my flight to Paris. This is all so frustrating, you know? Fashion Week is nearing, and I am not prepared at all—no, not even a little. I’m supposed to be spending my hours inside the studio practicing runway walks and testing out facial expressions, but no! I’m way too afraid of crossing paths with Hongjoong to even think about the consequences of not taking my preparations seriously! And speaking of Hongjoong…

He’s driving me to the edge of my sanity. I don’t know what’s going on with him—okay, scratch that, I definitely do. I just don’t get why he’s acting so avoidant all of a sudden… I mean, like, okay, I would understand his unprovoked need for distance between us if we actually kissed that night, but we didn’t. The farthest step we were able to take was just him holding onto the sides of my face and me looking at his lips like I’m a starved dog looking at its first meal of the day before Wooyoung fortunately interrupted us—so why is he acting up?

He’s like one of those girls you’d befriend in highschool who’d show up on the hallways suddenly judging your entire soul on a random Wednesday, and I don’t like it. Seriously, what’s his problem? He made me accustomed to his usual sweet and caring persona, and all of a sudden, he wants to act like this? What have I done wrong? Wasn’t it literally him who initiated the… whatever I’m supposed to call what happened that night?

I’m just concerned, you know. It’s been two weeks, and yet he’s still avoiding me like I’m the plague. I haven’t been receiving any messages from him at all lately, either. Even Madame Dupont is asking me why she no longer sees the “small young handsome boy” waiting for me outside the apartment building while leaning against his car. Wooyoung’s been trying to persuade me into confirming his theory that Hongjoong and I are going through a lovers’ quarrel for three days now, too. And guess who’s the most troubled of them all? Seonghwa. He’s been doing his best to put us back into speaking terms for a while now, and I don’t know why—I swear I didn’t ask him to do that.

Everyone is worried. Everyone but him.

You know, this brings me back to that unrecognizable faceless guy I see in some of my blurry flashbacks. I remember him asking me how long I’ve been bottling up my emotions, and when I told him I’ve been doing so for pretty much my entire life, he told me to consider writing in a journal.

What does the unrecognizable dude have to do with Hongjoong and his unreadable behavior? Nothing.

I just noticed that it’s been a while since I last wrote a journal entry, and… it’s been a while since I last let my emotions unravel. I remember the words that came out of his mouth that day.

“When you can’t figure out what you’re feeling, or if you need to let it all out, the only thing you have to do is pull this out along with a pen, and from then on, you can start writing away. Let yourself get lost in your own world.”

You know what, in a way, I think he and Hongjoong actually have something in common. I know I can’t say much because I only have one memory of this guy, but he spoke with as much wisdom as Hongjoong does. Also… “let yourself get lost in your own world.” That’s honestly the most Hongjoong-ish advice someone could ever give, given how he himself gets lost in his own world of artistry, too.

I just wish he’d stop ignoring me. I can’t help but feel like this is all somehow my fault… Am I just hurting myself by expecting things to suddenly go back to the way they used to be?

As you closed your journal with a weary sigh, your eyes drifted to the dim glow of your bedside clock reading 2:37 a.m. The room was silent, save for the soft hum of distant traffic, yet you felt far from at peace. It was a night for sleep, yet your mind wouldn’t quiet; thoughts of Hongjoong twisted and turned within you, refusing to settle.

“Why does it feel like this?” you murmured, pressing your palms into your face, as if that could somehow soothe the ache in your chest. You longed for comfort, for answers, even for a brief respite from the confusion that had become your constant companion. “If only that faceless guy could telepathically whisper some words of wisdom to me right now…”

Two weeks had passed since you last shared any words with Hongjoong—two weeks where every glance, every passing moment, felt laced with an unspoken tension that only deepened the rift between you. It was all becoming painfully real, the shift so clear to everyone around you. But no one knew the truth—the moment you almost kissed, the silent proximity that had left you dizzy and wondering. Even Seonghwa, in his genuine concern, couldn’t know the pang of vulnerability that had filled that night, the fear and excitement mingling as you’d come closer than ever before.

Your mind flashed back to the other day when the ache of his absence had been sharpest. You passed by him in a hallway, hoping for a flicker of his usual warmth, his soft gaze that once reassured you of your place in his world. But he’d brushed past with such indifference—not even nodding to acknowledge your presence, a chill in his demeanor that left you hollow. And then he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the corridor, leaving you alone with a rising sense of loss.

Without thinking, you picked up your phone and opened your gallery. Photos of Hongjoong filled your screen, and your eyes drift over candid snapshots—some of you and Hongjoong working late in the studio, others of him laughing or looking thoughtful, moments caught by your camera that now feel like glimpses into another lifetime. There’s a picture of him outside your apartment building, waving you goodbye one evening. Another shot of him hunched over his desk in concentration, unaware that you’d snapped the photo from across the room. Then, there’s a particularly precious one of the two of you, taken in his office—which was likely Wooyoung’s doing.

As you scroll, an ache blossoms within you, spreading in slow, insistent waves that make your chest feel tight. You can feel the sting of tears welling up in your eyes, and it catches you off guard. Why now? Why does he, of all people, have this power over you? You swipe at the tears, frustrated by the sudden swell of emotion. It’s not supposed to be like this, you tell yourself. Hongjoong is supposed to be your friend, your mentor, the one person in Paris who helped you find your footing when everything felt foreign. But as the images blur beneath the glisten of unshed tears, you can’t help but wonder if that’s all he’ll ever be—someone whose warmth once felt like home, and whose absence now feels like a loss you’re not ready to face.

The soft scratching at your window pulls you abruptly from your thoughts. For a moment, you freeze, glancing back at the phone you’d just placed on your desk. Carefully, you grab your journal—a flimsy defense, maybe, but it’s better than nothing. Heart pounding just slightly, you step forward, inching closer to the window.

When you peek over, you’re met with a familiar sight: Pompidou, the resident stray cat who had made the apartment building his kingdom, sits with one paw pressed to the glass, his usual unamused expression aimed your way.

You exhale a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, feeling the tension drain from your shoulders as you let out a soft laugh. Setting your journal on the bed, you reach over to open the window, letting him slip inside with practiced ease. He slinks past you with the air of someone who owns the place and makes himself right at home, hopping onto your bed and circling until he’s claimed his spot in the center.

You sit beside him, running a gentle hand over his soft fur. It’s strange how much you missed him. For the past few weeks, your room felt emptier without his occasional visits—without that extra little creature who just… understood you, in a way. And now, with Hongjoong’s absence haunting you, Pompidou couldn’t have come at a better time.

The thought hits you harder than you expect: here you are, at your lowest, relying on a cat for comfort simply because the one person you’re used to confiding in has become distant, almost like a stranger. The ache in your chest intensifies, and before you know it, you’re lying down next to him, resting your head on the bed and gazing at his calm, indifferent eyes. It feels silly, pathetic even, to be speaking your heart to a cat, but in this silence, with no one else to turn to, you let yourself unravel.

“Pompidou,” you whisper, voice barely holding steady, “I… I don’t know what I did wrong. Everything was fine, wasn’t it?” Your fingers tremble as they thread through his fur, a warmth grounding you in the midst of your unraveling. “I don’t know how we ended up here. He’s always been there for me, and now… it’s like he’s vanished. And I’m trying, I really am, but every time I reach out, it’s like he’s miles away.”

A sharp breath catches in your throat, and you look up at the ceiling, fighting against the tears stinging your eyes. “It’s probably all my fault,” you confess in a whisper that breaks. “Maybe I was too much, or maybe I should have… I don’t know, said something differently, done something better. Maybe I shouldn’t have invited him to eat dinner that night so that…” A bitter chuckle slips out as you squeeze your eyes shut. “It’s funny, you know. All my life, I’ve been terrified of being alone, of people walking out… and now here I am, trying to be okay with him pulling away like it’s nothing.”

Pompidou shifts slightly, his warm body pressing into your side, a small reminder that he’s there, and he’s not leaving. You let your hand drop to your chest, feeling the dull ache that’s settled there. “I just miss him, Pompidou. I miss the way he used to look at me like I mattered. Now, he can’t even look me in the eyes. And I don’t know why I’m clinging to that, why I’m hoping he’ll suddenly turn around and go back to being who he was.”

The silence swallows you for a moment. “Maybe it’s because, deep down, I’m still the same pathetic teenager from Arcadia Bay who’s scared that she doesn’t deserve anything better. That she’s always going to be left behind, and this… this is just proof.” Your voice falters, words thick with pain you can no longer hold back. “And if he leaves, then maybe it’s what I deserve.”

“Maybe I was the one who left him in an alternate reality, and this is the price I have to pay for it,” you joke, but it only feels like a pathetic attempt to make yourself feel better.

The pain is so sharp it almost feels physical, a hollow ache that makes every breath feel heavier than the last. You close your eyes, fighting against the helplessness clawing at your insides, but the words keep pouring out, jagged and raw, as though voicing them might lessen the weight—even if it’s only to a cat who can’t respond.

“Do you know what’s worse?” you whisper, fingers clutching the fabric of your shirt over your chest as if you could hold yourself together by sheer will. “It’s that I can’t even be mad at him. I want to be—believe me, I’ve tried. I tell myself he’s the one pulling away, that he’s the one who’s changed, but then I start wondering… what if I pushed him to this? What if I’m the reason he’s slipping through my fingers?”

A soft tremor runs through your hands, and you curl them into fists, teeth gritted as you force the tears back. “I keep thinking… maybe he’s right to distance himself. Maybe there’s something broken in me, something that just drives people away. And the worst part is, I keep wishing he’d come back, like I’d somehow be enough if I could just—”

Your voice catches, breaking into a whisper as you bury your face in your hands, barely holding in the sob that threatens to spill out. “I just don’t understand. He was my safe place, Pompidou. For the first time in so long, I actually felt like I mattered. He made me feel seen. And now… now I feel invisible all over again, like everything we shared was just temporary, like it didn’t mean anything.”

Pompidou shifts closer, his soft purr rumbling beneath your fingertips as you stroke his fur, a small solace in the middle of this storm.

“I try to convince myself that I’m fine, that I can go on without him,” you continue, voice cracking as the words spill out unchecked. “But the truth is, I’m terrified. I’m scared that if he leaves… if he’s really gone, I’ll be alone again, just like before. And I hate myself for feeling this way, for being so… so weak.”

The tears finally break free, slipping down your cheeks in a silent flood. “What does that say about me? That I’m so dependent on him, that I can’t even imagine my life without him? I thought I was stronger than this, that I’d learned how to stand on my own. But now… now it’s like I’m right back to that scared, lonely kid I used to be, clinging to anyone who shows me a hint of kindness.”

You pull your knees to your chest, holding yourself as tightly as you can, as if you could somehow shield yourself from the emptiness swallowing you whole. “I can’t stop thinking that maybe this is all I deserve. That maybe I’m meant to be alone. Maybe he’s finally seeing me for who I am, and he’s realizing I’m not worth it.”

Your shoulders shake as the sobs escape, quiet and raw, each one cutting through you like glass. Pompidou curls closer, his little face pressing against your arm, as though he understands in his own way. But his silent comfort only deepens the ache, a reminder that the person you need more than anything isn’t here, and you’re left holding yourself together with nothing but frayed threads of hope.

With a shuddering breath, you finally admit the fear you’ve been trying so hard to ignore. “What if he doesn’t come back, Pompidou? What if this is it? I don’t think… I don’t think I can handle losing him. Not like this.”

Your voice drops to a whisper, the words coming slow and soft as you gaze out the window, eyes unfocused. “I just… I miss him, Pompidou,” you murmur, fingers absently tracing patterns against the sheets.

“I miss all the little things that made it feel like he was a part of me, like he was woven into my days without me even realizing it. I miss the way he’d send me random sketches, the ones that made no sense but made me laugh anyway, like he was letting me in on his little worlds. I miss… I miss how he’d always have this ridiculous drink order for me every time we’d meet up at the café where we switched up our notebooks with one another before we met for the first time. It’s like he knew exactly what I’d need, even if I didn’t.”

The memories wash over you, and you can’t stop the warmth from pooling in your chest as you picture those moments. “I wish we could go back to that time when things were… simple. When I could sit beside him without feeling like the whole world was shifting under my feet. When he’d laugh and look at me like I was… like I was something special, you know?”

Your voice trembles, and you tighten your grip on the sheets. “And the thing is… it was just easy with him. He’d be there, always making me feel like nothing could go wrong as long as we were together. He’d be there with his quiet, comforting presence, and I could just… be. I didn’t have to pretend or put on some mask. It was like he could see right through me, and somehow, he didn’t care about all the mess he found.”

You take a deep breath, the words spilling out like a plea. “I just want to go back, Pompidou. Back to before everything felt so fragile, before that almost-kiss, before this… this distance. I wish I could reach out and take it all back. I’d give anything just to have things feel normal again.”

Pompidou tilts his head, eyes blinking up at you, and you can’t help but laugh, a soft, broken sound that catches in your throat. “I know it sounds silly, doesn’t it? I mean, how could I expect anything to be the same after that? But I can’t help it, Pompidou. I want to go back to when he’d smile at me like that, when I didn’t have to wonder if I was the one pushing him away.”

You close your eyes, feeling the weight of each memory anchor you down. “I miss his laugh. I miss his stupid jokes. I miss the way he’d lean closer when he talked about his dreams, his voice getting all serious like he could see every detail in his mind. And I miss… I miss feeling like I belonged somewhere, like I belonged with him. I miss how he’d look at me with this warmth, like I was enough, just as I was.”

The words come out like a broken whisper, a confession you’ve been holding inside for far too long. “I can’t stop missing him. I wish… I wish I could go back to that last night before everything shifted. Before the night we nearly kissed, before I even realized what I felt. I wish I could’ve just stayed there, in that moment, without letting any of it change.”

You hug your knees, curling up as the ache settles deeper, heavier. “But I can’t. And now it’s as if I’m left with pieces of him in everything around me, and I don’t know how to put myself back together without him.”

You pull yourself up, exhaling slowly, and walk over to your desk. The room feels quiet, still heavy with everything you’ve let out, yet somehow emptier too, as if releasing the words has left you hollow. With a shaky hand, you pick up your phone and make your way back to bed, curling up beside Pompidou, who has already claimed his spot against your pillow. Settling into the blankets, you scroll through your contacts, your thumb hovering over Hongjoong’s icon.

It’s just his initials next to a simple photo he once sent—a candid moment he probably forgot about, something so ordinary that it’s precious now. The way he looked when he didn’t realize anyone was watching: a slight smile, eyes softened by something he found funny, maybe even a bit endearing. The sight makes your chest tighten, and you let yourself scroll up, reading through old conversations like leafing through the pages of a treasured book.

Each message brings back flashes of shared laughter and late-night ramblings, little moments where time seemed to pause, and it was just the two of you—untouchable, safe. You linger on a message he sent on a rainy afternoon, a random joke he thought would cheer you up. Your lips curl into a faint smile, but it’s bittersweet. There was a time when it was so easy, so effortless, like breathing. He had a way of knowing exactly when you needed a reminder that he was there. But now, that comfort feels distant, unreachable.

A tear slips down your cheek again before you realize it, and you hastily swipe it away, but the sorrow wells up again, slipping past your guard. As if sensing your pain, Pompidou extends a soft paw, resting it gently below your eyes, and you feel his fur against your cheek, grounding you in a way that words can’t. His small gesture tugs a quiet, breathy laugh from you, despite the ache in your chest. It’s as if he’s trying to catch your sadness, pulling it away piece by piece, his wide eyes fixed on yours with an empathy you can almost feel.

You let your head fall, hugging Pompidou close, allowing yourself to finally surrender to the pain and let it wash over you without restraint. The loneliness, the longing, the hollow spaces Hongjoong’s absence has left in you—all of it spills out as you clutch the feline tightly, letting his warmth and steady breathing lull you into a fragile sense of comfort. The room seems to blur, softening around you as the weight of everything you’ve been holding back presses into you.

The tears come faster now, unstoppable, and your quiet sobs fill the silence, raw and unfiltered. It’s just you and Pompidou, and for a moment, it feels like you’re not truly alone. There, in the quiet solace of your room, you cling to that small comfort, letting yourself feel every ounce of longing, letting yourself miss him—fully, desperately, hopelessly.

—

Meanwhile, Hongjoong stood in his office, the warm, nostalgic tones of “La Vie en Rose” playing softly from the record player behind him. His gaze fixed on the window, hands clasped tightly behind his back, and he fought to keep his emotions in check. Each note lingered in the air, pulling him deeper into the web of memories he was desperately trying to forget. This song, of all songs—he could still remember how it had been playing when the two of you had stood together in the flower shop, laughing over bouquets and trading light-hearted jokes as if the world beyond didn’t exist.

Part of him knew he could walk over and turn it off. The music was his to control, after all. And yet… he couldn’t bring himself to stop it. The melody was the last fragile thread that kept him tethered to you, a reminder of the warmth he felt in your presence, the comfort of knowing someone understood him.

The dim light from the city outside cast a soft glow over his office, illuminating the expanse of papers scattered across his desk, the outlines of unfinished sketches and hastily scrawled notes, all reminders of the whirlwind he’d buried himself in since he started pushing you away. Each corner of the room felt saturated with memories of you—and it was strange how a space that had once felt so alive now seemed hollow, absent of the warmth you’d brought into it.

He tried to focus on the skyline again, his eyes tracing the glittering lights of the city. It was an attempt to ground himself, to pull himself back from the turmoil inside him. But tonight, every bit of stillness he attempted felt false, every piece of composure barely hanging by a thread. All he could think about was you—the absence of your presence filling every empty space in his mind, as if refusing to be silenced.

He turned slowly from the window, allowing his gaze to wander over his desk. It was almost impossible to remember the last time he’d felt fully at ease in this room. The stacks of designs that had once held so much promise now felt like hollow accomplishments, each one only reminding him of the fire you’d helped him ignite. His eyes landed on a small pendant lying amidst the clutter. The flower encased inside had faded slightly, its once-vibrant petals softened by time. He picked it up, cradling it carefully in his hand, feeling a strange tenderness rise within him.

You’d given him that flower, pressing it into his hand with a shy smile as you murmured something about it bringing him luck. He could still recall the way your fingers had lingered against his, the brief but electric touch that had left him wondering if you felt it too. “For good luck,” you’d said, your eyes sparkling in that way they always did when you felt especially close to him.

Hongjoong swallowed, feeling a tightness in his chest as he held the pendant closer. How was it that something so small could carry the weight of so many memories? He closed his eyes, and the warmth of your smile flashed in his mind, as vivid as if you were standing beside him. But now, as he held the pendant, it felt heavier, like a tiny piece of the past he was terrified of losing forever.

In his mind, he slipped back to that night—the one that had started as an ordinary work session, yet had unraveled into something far more vulnerable. He could still feel the closeness of the room, the soft glow of the lamps casting long shadows as you both worked side by side, immersed in the quiet moment you shared.

You’d shared things that night that were never meant to leave the room. He could still hear your voice, low and hesitant, as you revealed the fears you held closest to your heart. “Being left alone,” you’d admitted, your words raw and unguarded. The truth of it had lingered between you, a quiet vulnerability that had shaken him more than he cared to admit.

When you turned the question back on him, he’d hesitated, feeling the weight of his own guarded secrets pressing against his chest. But in that quiet space, under the gentle glow of the lamp, he’d found himself opening up in ways he hadn’t allowed himself to in years. “Losing myself,” he’d whispered, his voice barely audible, but enough for you to hear. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Now, standing alone in his empty office, Hongjoong felt the irony of it all washing over him. He’d tried so hard to protect himself, to build walls so high that even you couldn’t reach them. But now, it felt as if he had developed a new fear bigger than losing himself—losing you.

A quiet knock on the door broke his reverie, and he tensed, slipping the pendant into his pocket as he turned. Wooyoung’s face appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable as he took in the sight of Hongjoong standing alone, the haunting strains of La Vie en Rose still spinning softly from the record player across the room.

Wooyoung’s eyes flickered to the player, where the melody had been looping for what must have been the better part of an hour. “Still here?” he asked quietly, a hint of concern threading his tone.

Hongjoong forced a slight smile, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Wooyoung stepped further into the room, his gaze sharp as it settled on Hongjoong. “You know…” Wooyoung began, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall, “the world can see how miserable you are. Including her—especially her.”

Hongjoong stiffened, the forced nonchalance slipping from his face as he turned away, staring intently at the record player as if it held all the answers he was struggling to find. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, the words feeling hollow even to his own ears.

“Hongjoong,” Wooyoung’s tone softened, a hint of exasperation breaking through. “I know you. I know how much you care about her. And I know you’re running from something you can’t outrun. But you’re not fooling anyone by pretending it doesn’t matter.”

Hongjoong’s jaw tightened, his mind racing with all the reasons he’d built to keep you at a distance. Each one felt logical, safe, a way to protect himself from something he couldn’t quite name. But here, with Wooyoung standing there, watching him with that steady gaze, he felt every layer he’d built start to unravel.

“I’m not pretending,” he said quietly, barely audible above the music.

Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed, his tone turning softer, almost pleading. “Then what are you doing, Hongjoong? Because from where I’m standing, all I see is someone too scared to reach for what he really wants.”

Hongjoong’s heart twisted painfully, Wooyoung’s words hitting far too close to home. He felt the weight of everything he’d tried to suppress rising within him, a tidal wave of emotions he’d buried so deeply he’d convinced himself they were gone. But Wooyoung’s words had brought them to the surface, and now, there was no escaping them.

A silence stretched between them, and Hongjoong’s gaze fell to the floor. In that moment, he felt utterly vulnerable, as though Wooyoung could see right through him, could see the aching desire he’d tried so hard to deny. He didn’t have to say it—Wooyoung already knew.

Hongjoong’s fingers were still curled around the pendant in his pocket when Wooyoung let out a quiet sigh, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall. “So,” Wooyoung began, breaking the silence, “are you really going to stand here, pretending everything’s fine?”

Hongjoong’s jaw clenched, his shoulders tensing. He wanted to brush off Wooyoung’s words, to deflect with some casual response that would keep the carefully built walls intact. But his mind was a battlefield, each memory of you cutting through his defenses like a blade.

“Everything is fine,” he replied tersely. He didn’t meet Wooyoung’s eyes, focusing instead on a spot just beyond his shoulder.

Wooyoung’s brows knitted together, clearly unconvinced. “Right. That’s why you’ve been playing her favorite song on loop for the last hour. That’s why you’ve been holed up in here, avoiding anything that reminds you of her.” He shook his head, his tone equal parts exasperation and worry. “Hongjoong, you’re not fooling me. I know you, and I know you’re running from something—from someone.”

Hongjoong let out a low, frustrated sigh, finally looking up at Wooyoung. “Wooyoung, just drop it, alright?” He forced a tense smile, attempting to sound dismissive. “This… whatever you think is going on, it’s all in your head. We were just friends.”

But Wooyoung didn’t budge. “Friends?” He let out a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it, just the weight of disbelief. “You really want to go with that? Because the way you’re acting… it doesn’t look like you’re just missing a friend. You’re avoiding her like she’s a stranger, but then you’re here, playing her favorite song over and over, clutching onto that pendant like it’s the last piece of her you have.”

Hongjoong’s fingers instinctively tightened around the pendant, and he felt a pang of frustration rise within him. He didn’t want to admit that Wooyoung’s words struck too close to home. “I told you, it’s nothing like that,” he bit back, his tone sharper than intended. “You’re turning this into something it isn’t.”

Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed, his gaze not faltering. “Am I? Because from where I’m standing, you’re acting like a guy who’s desperately trying to convince himself of something he doesn’t even believe.”

“Wooyoung—”

“Hongjoong, you can’t keep lying to yourself.” Wooyoung’s tone softened, his voice carrying a gentleness that seemed to cut deeper than the words themselves. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, but I do know that you care about her. You’re not fooling anyone by pretending this distance is ‘better’ for either of you.”

Hongjoong’s patience began to fray, his frustration morphing into anger. He shot Wooyoung a glare, his voice rising. “It is better, Wooyoung. She… she deserves better. She doesn’t need to be pulled into whatever mess I am.” He paused, catching his breath, his anger mingling with something closer to desperation. “I’m not what’s best for her. And it’s better for the both of us if I keep my distance.”

Wooyoung’s expression shifted, his gaze hardening as he stepped closer, unwilling to let Hongjoong brush him off. “So, what? You think pushing her away, acting like she means nothing, is somehow good for her? You really think she’s better off without you?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong replied, his tone final, but the conviction in his voice was starting to waver.

Wooyoung gave him a long, scrutinizing look, and for a moment, the silence between them was thick with unspoken truths. Then, Wooyoung shook his head slowly. “You’re lying to yourself. And honestly? It’s pathetic, Hongjoong. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

The words hit Hongjoong like a slap, and a flash of anger surged within him, simmering beneath the surface. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, his voice low and strained. “I’m doing this for her, so just… stop.”

But Wooyoung wouldn’t relent. “You’re not doing this for her. You’re doing this because you’re afraid. Afraid to admit how much she means to you. Afraid of what might happen if you actually let her in. Whatever you’re afraid of, whatever you think is keeping you from being with her… maybe it’s worth rethinking. Because if you keep running like this, you’re going to lose her. And then what?”

Hongjoong felt his control slipping, the carefully constructed barriers he’d built starting to crack under the weight of Wooyoung’s words. He clenched his fists, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to keep his voice steady. “This isn’t about fear.”

“Isn’t it?” Wooyoung’s voice softened, a hint of understanding breaking through the frustration. “Hongjoong… I get it. You’re scared of losing yourself. Of losing control. But she’s not the one who’s going to make that happen. You are, by doing this. By trying so hard to keep her out.”

Hongjoong stayed silent, his chest tightening as Wooyoung’s words began to sink in. He wanted to deny it, to push back with the same conviction he’d clung to for weeks, but he couldn’t. Because deep down, he knew there was truth in Wooyoung’s words.

Finally, Wooyoung let out a sigh, his tone softening even further. “Listen, man. I don’t know what almost happened, or why you’re so determined to stay away from her, but you have to ask yourself… is this really what you want?”

Hongjoong closed his eyes, his mind flashing back to that night in your apartment—the feeling of your hand brushing his, the way your gaze had lingered on him, the unspoken tension that had nearly pulled him into something he couldn’t name. He’d wanted so badly to close that distance, to feel your lips against his, to let go of the fear and doubt that had held him back. But just as he’d leaned closer, Wooyoung’s call had snapped him out of the moment, bringing him crashing back to reality.

“Do you even understand how much she’s hurting, Hongjoong?” And there it was again—the harshness in Wooyoung’s tone. “Seonghwa told me she’s tearing herself apart over this. She doesn’t eat right anymore, and she barely even sleeps. She spends her nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering where things went wrong, wondering if she’s the problem.”

The words landed like a punch to Hongjoong’s gut, leaving him breathless. Images of you flashed through his mind—moments when he’d caught glimpses of your smile faltering, your laughter quieting, the spark in your eyes dimming little by little. He’d told himself it was just his imagination, that you were fine. But Wooyoung’s words shattered that illusion entirely.

“She thinks she did something wrong, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung continued, his voice filled with barely contained anger. “She actually believes she’s the reason you’re running. Every time you disappear, every time you pull away, she thinks it’s because of something she did. And the worst part? She doesn’t even blame you. She blames herself.”

Hongjoong’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as guilt clawed at him.

“Seonghwa told me she asked him if she was too much. Can you believe that?” Wooyoung’s voice cracked. “She actually thinks she’s too much for you. That she’s somehow burdening you, dragging you down. She’s convinced herself that if she were just… less, maybe you wouldn’t be running.”

Hongjoong’s breath hitched, a wave of nausea rolling over him as he realized the full extent of the pain he’d caused. You—who had always been so vibrant, so unapologetically yourself—were now questioning every part of who you were, trying to shrink yourself down to avoid scaring him away.

“She’s not even angry at you, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung said, his voice barely above a whisper now, each word a dagger aimed straight at Hongjoong’s heart. “She doesn’t hate you for this. She just… she thinks she’s not enough. Or that she’s too much. Either way, she’s convinced that she’s the problem.”

Hongjoong closed his eyes, his mind reeling. He could feel the anchor of your pain weighing down on him; He’d done this to you—turned you into a shadow of yourself, left you grappling with doubts and insecurities that weren’t yours to bear.

“You’ve been so busy hiding behind your own fears,” Wooyoung continued, “that you haven’t even stopped to consider what this is doing to her. You’re so terrified of being hurt again that you’re hurting her—over and over, every day, with every step you take away from her.”

Hongjoong opened his mouth to speak, to protest, but the words caught in his throat. What could he possibly say to justify this? How could he explain that he’d been running not to hurt you, but to protect himself? It sounded so selfish, so small in the face of everything you were going through.

“And you know what’s really twisted?” Wooyoung’s voice dropped, a bitter edge creeping into his tone. “She’d take you back in a heartbeat. Despite everything, she’d still look at you the same way she did before you started pushing her away. She’d still forgive you, still try to see the good in you, because that’s who she is. That’s how much she cares.”

Hongjoong felt something break inside him, a quiet, shattering realization that left him reeling. You would forgive him. He knew that. He could see it in his mind—the way you’d smile softly, the way your eyes would fill with understanding, even now. Even after everything, you’d welcome him back, arms open, heart exposed, waiting.

“She deserves better, Joong.” Wooyoung’s words were softer now, the anger replaced by a raw, unfiltered honesty. “She deserves someone who doesn’t make her question her worth. Someone who doesn’t make her feel like she’s somehow wrong just for being herself. And if you can’t be that for her… if you’re too wrapped up in your own fears to let her in… then you need to let her go.”

Hongjoong’s chest tightened, a hollow ache spreading through him as he struggled to process it all. He didn’t want to let you go. He couldn’t. But the thought of holding onto you only to keep hurting you, to keep dragging you through his own tangled web of insecurities and fears—it was unbearable.

“She’s barely holding up. She hides it well, but Seonghwa can see it. He told me how she sits alone for hours, just staring off into space, like she’s lost something she can’t find. She keeps her phone close, hoping maybe, just maybe, you’ll reach out. But every time you don’t... it breaks her a little more.”

Hongjoong’s chest tightened painfully, each word slicing through him like a blade. He could see it so clearly now, every painful moment he’d forced you through. How you must’ve waited for messages that never came, must’ve spent countless nights wondering where things had gone wrong. The thought of you sitting there, lost in your own pain, while he’d been so focused on his own fears, was more than he could bear.

“And don’t think she hasn’t tried to talk to you.” Wooyoung’s voice turned sharp, accusatory. “Seonghwa told me how many times she’s wanted to reach out, just to make sure you’re okay, just to see if you’d give her even a scrap of reassurance. But every time, she stops herself. She doesn’t want to bother you, doesn’t want to seem needy. She’s holding back everything she feels because she’s afraid it’ll push you further away.”

Wooyoung’s eyes softened slightly, but the fire of his conviction remained. “You need to understand, Hongjoong. This isn’t just about you anymore. It’s about her too. You’re hurting her, and if you don’t start realizing that, it’ll be too late. She’s going to break, and I don’t think she’ll come back from it.”

Hongjoong felt a cold wave of dread wash over him. The thought of you shattering into pieces because of his cowardice was unbearable. He wanted to argue, to defend himself, to say that he was doing this for you, for the both of you. But deep down, he knew it was a lie. He was only trying to shield himself from the fear of loss, the same fear that had haunted him since that girl from his past had walked away.

“I can’t… I can’t lose anyone again, Woo,” Hongjoong finally admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of his confession. “What if she sees me for who I really am? What if she realizes I’m not worth it?”

Wooyoung shook his head, frustration flashing across his features. “That’s where you’re wrong. She already sees you, and she loves you for all the parts you’re trying to hide. You think you’re protecting her by staying away, but you’re only pushing her further into despair.”

Hongjoong’s heart raced, a whirlwind of emotions colliding within him. “How do you know? How do you know she feels that way?”

“Because I’ve talked to Seonghwa, and he cares about her, Joong! He’s seen her cry over you. He told me she broke down one night, just sitting on the floor of her room, wondering why you were so distant. She kept saying she must’ve done something wrong. Do you want that for her? Do you want to be the reason she loses herself?”

The image of you curled up alone, tears streaming down your face while grappling with your worth, sliced through Hongjoong. The sheer guilt of it settled heavily in his chest, suffocating him. He had wanted to protect you, but in doing so, he had only hurt you more.

Hongjoong lingered in silence, the weight of his unspoken fears casting a shadow over the room. He could feel Wooyoung’s gaze on him, a

persistent pressure urging him to confront the thoughts he’d been too afraid to voice.

“What if…” The words caught in his throat, his voice strained with the vulnerability he couldn’t hide. “What if I take the next step, and she leaves? What if she ends up leaving just like—”

Wooyoung interrupted him by reaching forward, pressing his fingers gently but firmly to Hongjoong’s lips, shushing him with an authority that surprised them both. “I know what comes next, Hongjoong,” he murmured. “You don’t need to say it.”

Hongjoong stiffened, pulling back ever so slightly, a touch of annoyance flickering across his face. “You think it’s that simple?” he muttered, frustration bleeding into his voice. “You think it’s easy to just… forget?”

Wooyoung’s expression softened, though he held firm. “I think you’re holding onto something that’s long gone, Joong. And you’re letting it get in the way of something real.” He paused, leaning forward. “So what if the girl you loved back in middle school left you? You’re still letting her be the one who decides what happens now?”

Hongjoong’s mouth opened, then closed, his defenses crumbling under Wooyoung’s scrutiny. He could feel the words bubbling up, the excuses he’d used to justify his fears over and over, but this time, they didn’t come. The silence between them grew heavier, and he felt himself shrinking under Wooyoung’s eyes.

“It’s not about her,” Hongjoong finally managed, his voice a strained whisper. “It’s just… this was exactly how it started back then. The same moments, the same feelings, and then…” His voice broke, a haunted look creeping into his eyes as the memories clawed their way to the surface. “And then it all just fell apart the moment she left without a word.”

Wooyoung’s expression softened, his gaze filled with something close to sympathy, but there was no pity there, only an understanding forged through years of friendship. “Joong,” he said softly, leaning even closer as if he could bridge the distance that Hongjoong had placed between himself and everyone around him. “So what if some things feel familiar? They’re not the same person, are they? You’re not the same person, either.”

Hongjoong clenched his jaw, a flicker of anger sparking in his chest as he searched for a way to deflect, to deny the truth in Wooyoung’s words. “It’s… it’s not like that, Woo. You don’t get it.” His voice grew sharper, frustration edging his tone as he tried to hold onto the walls he’d built.

Wooyoung shook his head, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Really? Because it doesn’t look that way to me.”

Hongjoong looked away, his gaze hardening as he stared at the floor. “It’s not that simple, okay? You don’t know what it’s like to… to risk everything and then lose it.”

Wooyoung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Hongjoong, I may not know exactly what you went through, but I do know one thing: you’re letting something from the past dictate your future. And that’s not fair. Not to you, and definitely not to her.”

Hongjoong’s shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him as he felt the weight of Wooyoung’s words settle over him. Part of him wanted to argue, to cling to the fears that had kept him guarded for so long, but another part—a part he’d buried deep—knew that Wooyoung was right.

“What if I let myself try?” His voice was barely above a whisper, his words laden with the weight of years of doubt and self-preservation. “What if… what if I take that risk, and she ends up leaving?”

Wooyoung’s gaze softened, and he leaned forward, resting a reassuring hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder. “Joong, if she’s really the person you believe she is… then maybe it’s a risk worth taking. Because people leave, yeah. They walk away. But the ones who matter, the ones who are meant to stay—they won’t go anywhere.”

“You’re saying I should just… trust that?” His voice wavered, the question more for himself than for Wooyoung, as if he needed to convince himself that he could still believe in something other than his own fears.

Wooyoung’s mouth curved into a gentle, understanding smile. “Yeah. Trust it. Don’t let something that’s already gone keep you from what could be right here, right now.”

“What if I let her in? What if I let her see the real me? What if it’s not enough?”

“Then you fight for her,” Wooyoung replied. “You show her every day that she’s enough. You fight for her instead of running away. You have to be brave enough to take the risk, Joong. And if she does leave, at least you’ll know you tried. You can’t live in the shadow of your past forever.”

“But what if she sees me as weak?” Hongjoong countered, bitterness lacing his tone. “What if she thinks I’m broken?”

“Then you show her that even broken pieces can fit together to make something beautiful,” Wooyoung shot back. “You’ve built this wall around yourself, but you’re just hurting the one person who’s tried to break through. You need to trust her. You need to let her help you. She wants to be there for you, but you have to meet her halfway.”

The truth of those words echoed painfully in Hongjoong’s mind. He had been running, terrified of the vulnerability that came with love, terrified of the chance that he could be left once more. But he could feel the edges of that fear beginning to fray under the weight of his guilt, unraveling with every word Wooyoung spoke.

“You can’t let the past dictate your present, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung said, his voice softer now, a mixture of empathy and frustration. “You can’t keep running away from what you feel. If you do, you’ll end up losing her, and it’ll be your fault.”

Hongjoong’s heart raced as he thought of you—how you had lit up his life in ways he never thought possible. How your laughter had become a soothing balm to his weary soul. He couldn’t keep ignoring the truth that was staring him in the face. The realization washed over him like a cold wave. “What am I supposed to do?” Hongjoong whispered.

“Fight for her, Joong. Show her that you’re not afraid. Be honest with her, and don’t let fear win this time.” Wooyoung leaned closer. “She deserves that much, at the very least. Fight for her—before it’s too late.”

“But what if it already is?”

🪞 — lividstar.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

on the subject of Frank, Frank & Julie, and Franklydear 

I used to think that Frank will probably be one of the more skeptical puppets, and prone to being one of the first to see that not all is as it seems. And I think the majority of us think/thought this! 

But thanks to Riv i have entirely changed my tune. I think Frank will actively be avoiding the truth & clinging to the illusion. Here’s why!

Frank is portrayed as the most “rigid” neighbor - hell, it’s even part of his design! He likes routine, rules, for things to be ‘just so’ in his eyes. He doesn’t seem to like it when things stray from how they’re supposed to be. Everything has a time and a place. 

(and this might be mildly insane but blame Riv not me bc they said it, but in Just So Frank says “i like it best when red goes in front of the rest”, and if red is Wally… dot dot dot…) 

Then there’s how Frank will very likely be trying extremely hard to be something he’s not. And this is part of his design, too - he’s the only one in the cast without a natural blush. Yes, we’ve seen art where he can blush, but that’s in specific situations. In the bio images Frank is the only one without that little extra bit of color to his cheeks - he has two huge red splotches on him instead. Fake blush. Big and bright and impossible to ignore. 

And I’m gonna be diving a bit into Franklydear & Frank’s relationship with Julie because it’s important to this. 

I have also changed my tune on Franklydear - slightly. Welcome Home seems to be an example of nonlinear storytelling, as we’ve been getting bits and pieces from all over the place. The Live Interview from the early days, WHRP & Wally’s secret vinyl audios from “now”, the bug audios from an indeterminate time… so while I do think Franklydear is “already happening” within the main meat of the “past”, we will likely also get a chance to see before and after. And I do think there will be an after.

But I’m getting ahead of myself! Why do I think we’re going to see an established Franklydear? I’m going to be honest. A kofi post that I accidentally saw when a friend was sharing their screen with me and didn’t notice until it was too late </3 I should have looked away! But I didn’t, and that’s on me! I won’t say what I saw (it would be a theory anyways, nothing explicit or concrete in the evidence!) but it immediately convinced me that Frank & Eddie are in a secret relationship. I want to say more very badly, but if i’m proven right in tonight’s stream then I will be sharing Why I’m right. 

More reasoning that is obvious with this context - the whole “Mr. Dear / Frank- i mean Mr. Frankly!” thing might be part of this fabricated distance. I would completely believe you if you told me that Frank had them both refer to each other professionally to keep up the facade that they’re nothing but neighbors, nothing going on here nosiree. They definitely don’t meet in the woods to be romantic! That added with how unusually playful Frank is with Eddie in 8-14 is interesting… though I can also believe that those audios are from “before” their relationship, given that Frank seems to be dropping a hint with the whole “ You don’t need to be that familiar with them in order to get to know them better!” line. I don’t know - there are a bunch of contradictions that could be them acting, could be differences in the timeline, who’s to say yet! 

Anyway, so Franklydear is likely in a secret relationship, but I think Frank is going to get scared, call it off, and try to force a relationship with Julie. As in lying to her and everyone that he has feelings for her, and fulfilling their “destiny” in becoming a couple. I think Frank is where a lot of the internalized homophobia is going to come in.

In most of the Franklydear art we’ve seen from Clown, Frank seems to be very nervous and flustered around Eddie while Eddie seems to be more calm and forward. Frank has already proven to have a bit of a nervous disposition - he’s certainly high strung. That combined with his rigidity, the airs he puts on, and just… everything about him really, I don’t think he’ll be able to handle the pressure. 

(side note: the way that Clown said that he wishes they hadn’t let everyone know about Franklydear, it’s ok because it’s “not a major spoiler” has been fucking me up a little. Wym it’s not a Major spoiler? It’s so funny… we’ve all been like “Franklydear will be Thee relationship and a big thing-” and then it’s Not. lmao) 

Then there’s the song Clown associates with Franklydear, “Esperar pra ver”. @/Theneighborhoodwatch gave a translation/interpretation of the lyrics - cannot for the life of me find the og ask/post to link, but (if I’m remembering correctly) it was essentially said that the song is about love that doesn’t last / lost love. My friend Akemi (@/akemima <3) provided an alternate interpretation - to quote:

“...to me, it speaks about how they’re both Unable to speak up about their love? and the “wait and see” part is most likely them waiting for the other to make a first step or like. something Hopeful yknow?”

As both a tragedy enjoyer and a happy-end enjoyer, I wouldn’t mind either interpretation being accurate, personally! So Akemi has given us a sprinkle of hope for Franklydear! I think that both interpretations have merit, and hey, they can coexist. We might have them together, then Frank getting scared and calling it off, and then a “third arc” of them wanting to be back together but unable to (yet). Who’s to say! 

ON TO THE JULIE PORTION.

For a while I thought that Julie might be the one to pursue a relationship with Frank - both because of the subconscious influence of her “Role” & that she’s bi while Frank is gay. On surface level she would be the most likely of the two to get the wrong/mixed signals and Go For It.

However. Nothing about this project is surface level. 

I’ve already mentioned that I think Frank is going to try very hard to be something he isn’t. And this is backed by how his relationship with Julie is portrayed (another thank you to Riv for pointing a lot of this out & smacking some sense into me <3) 

Frank is all about rules and matching. Julie is all about improv and independence. Riv pointed out that in “Just So” the audio distorts when Frank is changing bowties and Julie asks if it “really matters”. They also pointed out that, apparently in the Halloween outfit references, Frank’s notes indicate that he’s matching with Julie - but Julie doesn’t have any reciprocating notes. It implies that she was doing her own thing and Frank adjusted himself accordingly. Julie goes along with Frank sometimes, but it seems that it’s usually Frank scrambling to go along with Julie. She’s been described as independent and stubborn. Frank is a bit more of a conforming pushover (no offense Frankie, love ya to bits <3). 

Frank is the straightman to Julie’s… I can’t reference the bios anymore but you know! He might be her straightman in more ways than just “he takes things seriously.” 

And really. Frank likes routine, he likes things to be consistent. He’s been with Julie as her best friend / “partner” for so long that I’m not sure if he can easily break away from that - I think a change as big as getting romantically involved with Eddie would terrify him. It might be thrilling for a moment, but then the fear will set in. 

I thought Julie would be the one clinging to Frank, but it’s the other way around isn’t it? 

Frank gets scared & then leads Julie on because he’s trying to act “normal”, the way that’s expected of him. And it fits. One of WH’s themes is the fear of being shunned for / perceived as different by others. Once they know what you are, will they treat you the same? 

And I don’t think Julie would be entirely opposed, either. I wouldn’t blame her for developing a crush on Frank. I mean, it might turn out that she’s “just going along with it” because she feels the same pressure and fear, but hm… I’m not convinced of that given what we know about her character. But if Julie has a little crush on Frank, I wouldn’t be surprised if when he forces himself to like her & initiates a relationship, she either realizes that it really was just a crush, or she’ll pick up on how Frank doesn’t actually have feelings & act accordingly. This option has more merit in my eyes. I think it would also reflect on the “love” theme of her house - I’ve speculated since pretty much day one that she’ll have an arc around realizing that she doesn’t need a relationship or even really want one at present, going against what Playfellow likely wanted from her. 

(and then I start thinking about the whole livestream trivia thing of Julie maybe falling down a hole or into some abyss… and the concept art of her shoes where she’s standing at the edge of a dark abyss… does she fall, does she jump, or is she pushed? If she winds up being pushed, who does it? Barnaby (milk theory babey!) or perhaps she’ll get in a fight with Frank and in the heat of the moment he accidentally causes her to fall, either by pushing or making her lose awareness of her surroundings (backing off of the edge?). I’m aware that this paragraph is a stretch all around! Don’t take it too seriously! A pinch of salt, people!)

There’s not much else to be said so, in conclusion:

Welcome Home’s storytelling is likely on a nonlinear timeline, Franklydear is established but won’t last, and Frank/Julie is probably going to become a temporary thing

[dreamingofep]

Sinned Awakening pt. 26 🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/ Vampire Austin! Elvis x reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond beliet and your undeniable attraction makes you tear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, ANGST, smut, mentions of blood/gore!!!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: Hello everyone!! Enjoy this new part! It’s a bit shorter than normal but it’s because the next chapter is a MONSTER and I had to break it up somehow! Some questions are going to be answered and some other things are going to be uncovered😈

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here or Ao3! hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think.

A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.

You now understand why Elvis considered not sleeping as part of his ‘curse’. There was no escaping your thoughts and it was just endless noise that played in your head. It was hard to focus on the things you wanted to hear because you had nothing to put your focus on. You were getting the hang of focusing on the sound of Elvis’ heart when he was here, but now he was so far away you couldn’t hear him anymore.

You don’t know how long you cried, it felt like forever. You just wanted him back here so you could apologize and make things right. The empty pit inside your heart ached for him. Despite the distance, you felt him ache for you too. You knew he was out there feeling the same longing you were experiencing. You prayed he’d be back in a day or so to talk things out and figure out how you guys can find answers on your new life.

But he doesn’t come back the next day, or the day after that. One full week drags on and no one has heard from him. Not even a phone call. You grew desperate for him, needing him to be here with you and hold you again. You were lonely and most importantly scared. You hadn’t even been away from him this long and you were worried.

None of the guys were hanging around the house lately and if they did stop by to check in on you, it was the same answer when you asked them if they heard anything from him. Jerry was the only one that hung around the most. He knew how worried you were even though you kept assuring him you were fine.

“Maybe I should go out there looking for him… what if he needs me,” you suggest to him one day.

“Where would you begin to look for him? E would kill us if he knew we let you out there by yourself,” he says worriedly.

“I’m stronger than all of you right now!” You snap. He swallows uncomfortably and looks away from you. You instantly feel bad and apologize.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap like that. I just mean, I could take care of myself,” you try to explain.

“I understand, there’s no doubt you would win in any fight with us but you don’t have any control over your abilities,” he says gently. “You’re kind of a loose cannon lately,” he jokes.

You can’t help but laugh and have to agree, you had no idea what could tick you off if you mingled with other humans you didn’t know.

“No, you’re right,” you sigh, “well maybe you can come with me?”

He pauses and considers the proposal, weighing the pros and cons of this idea.

“Elvis is my best friend. I’d do anything for him. Hell, I let him bite me. But most importantly, you’re his other half. I’ll go anywhere you go,” he says sweetly.

“But I think we should give him a bit more time. If he doesn’t come back in a few days, we’ll start looking for him,” he says.

“Okay, sounds good,” you say with a smile, thankful he’s on board with the plan.

You tried to put your time into reading all the books Elvis had on vampires. Anything to help you understand what was going on with you. Or what was going on with him? The books couldn’t keep your full attention, however. Too much worry plagued your mind and certain topics in these books disturbed you. The human part of you became squeamish when you read about the more gruesome things like how to kill a vampire. You couldn’t bring yourself to read what was in those passages. It made you physically sick to think of anyone ever trying to hurt Elvis. You hoped Jerry was right, he was just out there looking for answers to understand why you changed the way you did and what else you needed to survive.

You didn’t have an appetite while you were worrying about him so much. You weren’t eating like you should have and it had been days since you drank any blood. There was this dark part of you that craved to have Elvis’. You could barely remember what he tasted like from when you first bit him, but everything inside you screamed to bite him. It was extremely frustrating that this incessant voice in your head was begging to have him when he was God knows where.

The next few days pass slowly, and still no sign of him. You couldn’t sit in this house any longer not doing anything useful. You weren’t going to let Elvis shut you out and get himself into trouble out there. You started to gather a bag full of things you might need on your journey. You tell Elvis’ housekeepers you’ll be back soon, but don’t give them an exact date you’ll be back because you didn’t even know yourself. They had worried looks on their faces they couldn’t hide and you hated to see them worry.

You wait for Jerry in the living room, double-checking that you both have everything you need.

“Any idea where we’re going to start looking? He can be anywhere,” he says jokingly.

“Well, hopefully, he’s not too far and we can find him quickly. I just want him home. If he still didn’t find any help, we’ll go together and help him,” you say matter-of-factly. “I guess I should follow my instincts, follow the bond that tethers us together.”

“Let’s go, you know I won’t question anything you say,” he says grabbing his bag he pack and slinging it over his shoulder.

Your attention gets pulled away from the conversation and your head snaps to look at the front door like a magnet. You heard a heartbeat. A loud, melodious heartbeat, beating only for you. It was one you could recognize from anywhere.

Elvis.

You rush to open the door and see him, looking as good as ever walking up the steps to the house. His hair was slicked back, showcasing his handsome face. His eyes were still golden and more captivating than ever. He had this boyish innocence in his eye though, like he was silently pleading for you to forgive him for being gone so long. You could feel how happy he was to see you and how his heart raced faster the closer he got to you.

He stood in front of you, eying you head to toe and taking a sharp breath in. He pulls you quickly by your wrist and envelops you in his arms. You wrap your arms around his waist and hold onto him tight. You sigh a breath of relief and feel his warmth wrap around your body. His scent fills your head like an intoxicating drink. You hum content, so happy to have him in your arms again.

“Oh, baby,” he whispers as he picks you up slightly from the ground and gives you a deep, passionate kiss. It was intense and electrifying, wrapping you in his blinding love. You place your hands on his face, making sure he’s real and not some cruel dream.

He gently puts you down and you look up at him in anticipation.

“Where have you been?” You ask, hurt filling your voice.

“I’m sorry I was gone so long baby. I-I-I had to take care of things,” he says overwhelmed. He tries to comfort you but suddenly pick up another scent behind him. You suddenly feel on edge as you don’t recognize the scent at all. You dart your eyes back up at him, trying to push him to the side to see who it is but he doesn’t budge.

“Umm honey, I need you to meet someone…” he says uncomfortably. You push at his chest slightly to see who is behind him and he gives way.

It was a girl, maybe twenty years old or so, with long black hair, and flawless golden skin. She wears sunglasses shielding her gaze from you. She doesn’t say anything right away, just stares at you behind the glasses, inspecting your every detail. You step in front of Elvis instinctively, wanting to create a barrier between him and this girl.

“What do you want?” You growl. She smirks at you, amused by your protective tone.

“I’m not a threat,” she says calmly, “my name is Iris.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” you say through your teeth, “what do you want. What are you doing here?” You press. You feel Elvis place his hand on your shoulder to try and calm you but need to focus and don’t want him to touch you right now. You brush his hand off of you and take another step forward to Iris.

“Elvis found us in search of answers,” She starts to explain when a man you’ve never seen starts to walk up the steps behind her. “We are like you, Chosen.”

You feel your stomach drop, not believing what she just said. You glance over at the man standing next to her. He was young too, with wavy dark brunette hair, and pale icy skin.

“My name is Alexander, it’s nice to meet you,” he says sweetly.

You look back at Elvis, unsure if you should trust them or not.

“It’s okay, they’re here to help us,” he says low.

You look back at them, nodding your head that you’ll let them talk.

Iris smiles, “Perfect, where did you guys want to begin?”

Elvis pushed the front door open and stepped to the side. “Please, come in,” he says kindly. You let them walk in first and watch as they inspect every detail of the house. You pull at Elvis’ hand before you two walk in behind them.

He looks at you intensely, as you pull him away from the door.

“Do you know who these vampires are you just invited into your home?” You say low, your eyes blazing with intensity.

“Baby, it’s all okay. They can be trusted. You need to hear what they have to say. They’re the real thing trust me, I was skeptical at first too. Please, just listen to what they have to say,” he says squeezing your hand slightly.

You huff, knowing you can’t say no to him.

“Fine, I’ll let them talk. Then we need to talk too. Alone,” you say shortly.

“I know,” he says softly, knowing there’s a lot left unsaid after your fight.

He lets you walk into the house first, resting his hand on the small of your back.

A spark.

A little golden ember blazes inside of you with one touch of his hand.

You look back at him and he has this look on his face. Smug and yet still tender. But you know he feels it too.

“Mine.” He sighs.

*

*

*

Tagging: x

@powerotelvis @burninlovebutler

@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog

@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@18|kpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf@eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938 @50sexyshadesfashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs @sloppiest-of-jos

[e-dubbc11]

Unforgiven

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F! Reader

Warnings: angst and tears

Word Count: 1.6k-ish

A/N: Based off of the prompt “I don’t forgive you” from my lovely friend, Kim @kayhi808 and I honestly would have guessed this prompt would have been for Billy but I’m so happy to do this one for Matt. I hope you like it!

Everyone was staring at you. At least that’s the way you felt, sitting in the restaurant, all alone at a table set for two. The tapered candles in front of you dripped down further and further as the minutes ticked away.

Glancing down at your watch, it said 7:30. He was supposed to meet you here at 6. He had asked you where you wanted to go, he said he would take you anywhere you wanted, anywhere at all so you told him you wanted to come here.

This was where he told you he loved you for the first time, the words just kind of slipped out but you thought it was so sweet how nervous he was.

“I can take care of myself, Matty. I’ve been walking around Hell’s Kitchen alone since I was young. You don’t have to worry.” You told him.

Matt adjusted his glasses, his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, and he had a worried look on his face. “But I do worry about you, sweetheart.”

“But I told you, Matty–I’m fine. Why are you so worried?” You asked.

“Because, I just–I…” Matt stumbled over his words.

Frustrated with him, you raised your voice a little. “You just what, Matthew?! What is it? You think I can’t take care of myself?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” He said. “I worry because–”

“Spit it out, Matt!” You griped.

Flustered, he just blurted out. “Because I love you!”

That was how Matt Murdock told you he loved you for the first time. It wasn’t how you pictured him saying it for the first time but it was hard not to love him back for wanting for you to be safe.

Lately, your relationship with Matt wasn’t going so well though. He had a long list of reasons why he couldn’t call or see you. It was always he had to work late, he had court, he had notes to go over, etc.

He had one excuse after another but you loved him so you tried to be understanding and he had been working very hard lately.

But you also had a feeling he was keeping something from you. The bruises on his face, the cuts on his knuckles, and the nights he was supposed to see you but he kept canceling.

Matt would tell you that he walked into a wall or slipped in the shower. It was hard to accuse him of any wrongdoing though, he was blind after all. It wasn’t that far-fetched that he walked into a wall or accidentally fell down the stairs.

All of these occurrences were interfering in your relationship but he said he would try harder because he loved you and he didn’t want to lose you.

For the past couple of months, every time you made plans to see each other, Matt didn’t show up. He called to apologize but you were tired of giving him chances, and how many more times were you going to allow him to keep breaking promises and standing you up?

8:00

He was two hours late now. The tears burned the back of your eyes when you realized he wasn’t going to show.

The server walked over to your table to ask if you were alright. Brushing the tear away from your cheek, you thanked them, left some money for the wine you had and apologized for wasting their time.

Your walk home in the crisp autumn air seemed to take forever, sirens sounded in the distance, and with each step you took, it felt like a punch in the stomach.

He promised you, swore to you that it was going to be different this time. He said you were everything to him. But he wasn’t treating you that way, he was treating you like you didn’t matter at all.

How could he do this to you…again? It was mortifying, people staring at you, it’s like they knew you were being stood up.

You felt like you were in a dream that kept repeating itself over and over again, a spotlight that followed you wherever you went, and lights flashing telling everyone that you were going home alone.

What would his excuse be this time? Actually, you didn’t care what his excuse was because you were done, it hurt too much to try and give him another chance. It made you angry also, did he know how much he was hurting you? Did he even care?

The dim light in your hallway shone overhead as you took out your keys, the tears in your eyes made it difficult to see the door lock but you managed to finally get it open. You hung up your jacket, dropped your keys into the bowl and now that you were finally alone, you broke down into sobs.

“How could you do this to me again, Matty? You promised me it would be better!” You shouted into the emptiness of your apartment, the echo bouncing off of the walls and the ball of rage boiling in the pit of your stomach.

You stripped off all of your jewelry, took out the pins in your hair, and placed it all on the coffee table. You couldn’t get all of it off fast enough, everything felt like it was suffocating you.

The shallow breaths in between sobs were painful, each one felt like you were being stabbed in the ribs. Maybe a hot shower would help you feel better.

The hot water pelted against your skin and the steam inside seemed to make it easier for you to catch your breath. The scent of your lavender body wash was soothing and eased your heart rate back down to normal with each inhale and exhale.

As you stepped out of the shower, the rumbling in your stomach was very pronounced. You wouldn’t be surprised if your neighbors heard it so you decided to make tea and eat some toast since you didn’t get to enjoy dinner tonight.

10:00

All cried out, you ended up falling asleep on your couch with only the light on the end table glowing dimly through your entire apartment.

A gentle autumn breeze drifted through a window that you don’t remember leaving open, the wind moved the stray hairs away from your nose, and you had the feeling that someone was watching you but you weren’t frightened.

As you sat up, you looked in the direction of the window and saw a figure dressed in all black, wearing a hood just covering his eyes. He must have turned the light off when he crawled through your window as to not be seen.

You’ve heard the stories, you knew who he was…the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was standing in the middle of your living room.

“I know who you are so just tell me what you want because I’ve had a rough night and I just wanna go back to sleep.” You said to the Devil.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He said.

It was difficult to process, the words coming from the Devil’s lips sounded like Matt but how could that be? You’ve read about him in the newspaper, online, and heard rumors all throughout Hell’s Kitchen, there’s no way Matt could be the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

“Matty? Is that you?” You asked. “Why are you dressed like—?”

“It’s me, y/n. I am—the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.” He said hesitantly.

“Are you telling me you’re NOT blind?!!” You yelled.

Matt let out a little chuckle, it definitely was him. You knew that dimple anywhere.

“I’m going to tell you everything and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Suddenly it all made sense, the bruises, the cuts, sleeping all day, cancelled dates, and sporadic phone calls.

They all made sense as he laid everything out for you, explained it all but it didn’t really help your current state of anger or having your heart broken.

And it didn’t matter anymore, it didn’t matter that he explained everything to you, you were tired of being hurt, of being humiliated, and all because he felt like he couldn’t tell you the truth. He said he loved you and yet he kept this secret from you without any hesitation.

He had removed the covering over his eyes and after he was done talking, there was an awkward silence between the two of you and he smiled at you like everything was ok, but it wasn’t. It would never be ok.

“I don’t forgive you.” You said.

Matt had a confused look on his face. “But angel, I—I thought that—“

“Matty, I love you. I love you with my whole heart but I—I don’t forgive you. And I need you to leave.” You told him with a hitch in your voice and tears in your eyes.

“Sweetheart, please.” He begged.

“No, Matt—I need you to go…now.” You said, trying to sound in control.

Matt turned and walked towards the window. He paused, hoping that maybe you would stop him from leaving, but those words didn’t come.

“I love you.” He said before climbing out of the window and disappearing into the darkness.

As he moved from rooftop to rooftop, listening for anyone who might need help, his thoughts drifted to you. He heard it in your voice how angry you were, how hurt you were, and the way your pulse sped up every time you spoke.

The thought of being without you caused him pain, it distracted him, and he didn’t care how long it was going to take but he would get you back, he needed to get you back.

You were everything to him.

Read Part 2 HERE

Tag List: @skvatnavle @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @munsonownsmyass @elgrandeavocados @gijos @freshabogados

Others that might enjoy: @mattmurdocksscars @itwasthereaminuteago @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @missbeewrites @hellskitchenswhore @pedrito-friskito @fluffyprettykitty

Please please tell me if you’d like to be added or removed from either list and thank you again for reading!

[cgogs]

@georgenootfound 's @dreblrtine-gift-exchange !

Mods did a very good job matching up gifts and gifters everyone give them a round of applause! I did my very best with this and the prompt I really really hope you like it, Ro! Happy Valentines!

Virgo | 2.2k | dsmp s2 c!dnf

Two boys lay in the grass of a great and beautiful valley. The blades of green spread to cradle their frames, the night sky above painting the world below in midnight blue. The crickets are distant, as are the rest of their friends, leaving the two alone in steady silence.

They haven’t spoken for an extended period, one more focused on taking in the stars– the other, trapped in his own head. 

Dream is tall, strong, with a head of gold and a heart that’s not so different. George is not much like him, except in all the uncanny ways that he is, despite not knowing each other for long. Which is unsettling, because George has this gut feeling that isn’t true. It feels like they’ve known each other forever. (They’ve known each other for a few months and some days.)

He’d like to be closer to his new friend. (It feels like reclaiming distance.) He’s also scared to death of it for a reason he can’t define or pinpoint. (It feels like setting himself up to lose him again.)

And that’s nothing to say of their weird, blossoming romance. He doesn’t like to think about it because it makes his face hot, but Dream is… very kind to him. There’s been a few stolen glances, a peck that one time, a hug or three that lasted too long… but they haven’t talked about it. Dream doesn’t seem the type. Maybe George should take a page out of his book and just stop thinking so much… they have a good thing. Why complicate it…

(The nagging just won’t go away.)

“Found it,” Dream whispers to himself, pulling George from his thoughts. His hand shoots up to point at the sky, the moon’s reflection gleaming on his two prosthetic claws. Another mystery Dream has never talked about. George pulls his eyes from the metal index finger to what Dream’s actually trying to get him to look at. “Virgo.”

“Virgo?” George tilts his head. He doesn’t really see anything. “Were you looking for it?”

“I was looking for the zodiac belt.” He talks with his hands a bit, something George finds infinitely endearing. “I was looking at a star chart earlier, there’s so many constellations. It’s nuts. I wanted to see if I could find it by myself.”

“Mmh… well, I don’t know what I’m looking at. Like at all. So.”

Dream laughs before grabbing George’s hand and guiding his finger along the sky. (The breath gets caught in his chest as soon as their skin touches. It feels right. Their hands have known each other. Right? Right?)

“Virgo has a huge star in it which makes things a little easier. So, you find the big dipper…” Okay, that one’s easy. George can actually see that one. Dream pulls his hand down, down, down, “And then you go southeast, and find that really bright one. It’s called, um, something. I forgot.”

“Wow. Some stargazer you are. You don’t even know what the big one is called.”

“Do you want me to show you or not?” 

“No, no, show me.” George says a little quicker than he meant. It felt like Dream was about to let go. “Please.”

“Okay, okay. That’s what I thought.” Dream laughs again. He takes everything so lightly. George wishes he wasn’t so trapped in his own head lately. His finger is guided, “There’s a bright star, but then the second bright star is the one in Virgo.”

George still doesn’t see it.

“Okay. Um. What’s the shape?”

“It’s supposed to be like, a girl? Here, I know it’s hard to get it. I don’t really get it either but it’s like this,” Dream traces their fingers in a vague shape, tracing each star. George kind of wants to keep acting stupid so he’ll keep holding his hand, but he doesn’t want to embarrass himself. 

“Oh. That’s dumb, it doesn’t even look like a girl.”

“I know, right? But people back then were really bored. So.” He shrugs, “But yeah. From there you can find all the other zodiacs, ‘cuz they’re in a line. See, there’s Scorpio.”

George nods, “Oh, I’m a Scorpio.”

“Mm! I’m a Leo.” Dream shrugs, “I don’t really know what it means in depth.”

“Do you believe in that stuff? Zodiacs and… past lives.”

Dream sets their hands down. George moves his pinky to lay flush against the side of his palm, just to keep the contact. It felt reassuring. Safe.

There’s a pause while he thinks. 

“Yeah. I do.” A breeze blows past. George sighs with it. “I mean, nobody was born at the exact same time and place as you. So, there’s probably something in that. Could not be, though. But I dunno. Coincidences are fun to believe in.”

“Right. And past lives?”

“Definitely.” Dream grabs a small flower, holding it over the both of them before snapping the stem. “When things die, the Earth takes them back and feeds them into the next thing. Rot, and all. If that’s how the world works with bodies, then why wouldn’t it with souls?”

George makes a thoughtful noise, “I guess that makes sense. Even with rain, it just falls back in the ocean to be made into rain again. That’s how that works, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Exactly.”

“Okay, but, souls are like a whole different thing, though. It’s not tangible. How can you be sure?”

“Then it would have different intangible rules. If I died right now, then my body would feed the grass and a bunch of flowers would grow. Or something. And my soul would… do something else. I don’t know what. But it would make sense if it was saved to put in the next body. Like, a baby or something. Because it’s life energy.”

“I don’t know. I guess.”

“Why do you sound so sad?”

He didn’t mean to sound so sad. “I guess I just wanted you to give me a better answer.”

Dream rolls and props himself up on his forearms, leaning over George’s face with a confused expression. “Why do you care so much?”

He’s so handsome. It makes George’s brain lag. “Well I… want to believe.”

“Then it sounds like you already do. I don’t have all the good answers, I’d have to become, like, a scholar or something, to give you all the good answers. Sometimes you just have to take things on faith.”

(I’m tired of taking your word for it. I’m tired of leaps of faith.)

George lays a hand over his in the grass. “I just wish there was something real to back it up.”

Dream’s head tilts. But it’s not in the same curious way he’d been carrying himself in the conversation. It’s more subdued, more personal. He asks a question that he seems to have asked himself before. His eyes stare down in thought, “... Do you feel like you used to be someone?”

A long silence. They’re scared of breaking something by accident. Some flimsy rule or pane of glass supporting their reality. But Dream’s already asked the question, and the world hasn’t imploded.

So eventually, George nods. 

“Who do you think you were?” 

He sighs, the air swaying Dream’s hair a bit. His face twitches as George’s breath hits him, which George finds cute enough that it takes some of the edge off.

“I… I don’t know. I must have been a dreamer. Always wanting something I could never quite grasp. I feel like I lost a lot.”

“I feel the same.”

“Really?”

He nods. 

“Weird.”

Dream continues, “It doesn’t feel normal. Like, I don’t know. It feels like it’s so close I could reach out and touch it. Like, a mirror of myself. Does that make sense?”

(George blinks and for a moment, sees a man just like Dream, bleeding and angry and hurting.) 

“Yeah. Like, you could look over your shoulder and see him again.”

Dream nods.

It’s quiet again. But this time it’s peaceful, if a bit surreal. It feels weird, taboo to say it all out loud. But Dream doesn’t think he’s crazy. And that is enough to calm him.

George finds the courage to ask another question. “And… what about soulmates? Do you believe in that?”

Dream nods. George thought he’d have another spiel ready to explain himself, but he doesn’t speak again. He’s just staring down at him, soaking him in. George sets a brave hand to rest on Dream’s cheek.

He smiles. “We should probably do it differently this time if we were so damn sad the last.”

George scoffs a laugh, even though the sentence stabs him a bit. “How would we even know what to do differently?”

“No idea. Guess we’ll just take a leap of faith.”

“I kind of hate how many leaps you take. Leaves me behind.”

“Okay. See? That was really poetic. Write a book, George.”

“I’m serious.”

“Well then don’t be, get out of your head. I’m not going to leave you behind,” Dream is about to roll back down on his back, and the idea of him leaving makes George’s heart leap into his throat, his other hand shoots up to hold Dream’s head in place without even thinking. 

The motion was desperate and sad. Dream’s expression crumbles. “What… What’s wrong?”

George’s mouth opens and nothing comes out. His expression is pained and confused. He doesn’t know what’s wrong. He doesn’t know.

“George?”

Quietly. “I know we were just joking around about… all this. But,”

“I wasn’t joking.” Dream is quick to say, “I believe everything I said.”

George lets out through his mouth some of the tightness in his lungs. “Okay.”

“I was only joking about the last part, I, I just didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know?”

A roll of his shoulders. “What to say. I was deflecting.”

That’s fair. Dream can’t read his mind, that’s fair. 

“Sorry. I guess I’ve just been… thinking about that feeling a lot. What we were talking about, I mean.”

Dream moves a hand to hold his wrist lightly. George thinks his aim is to take his hand away before he realizes it’s a romantic gesture. Comfort. He nearly bursts into tears. He didn’t think he was so sensitive to these kinds of touches– maybe it’s just because it’s Dream. 

 “I know we’ve only known each other for a little while, but I’m really– scared of losing you. And I–”

(That’s what you said last time.)

Dream shakes his head. “I’m right here. I… I understand what you mean. But I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t want to either.”

“But what if you find a reason?”

“Then… we’ll have that hunch. A gut feeling. And I’ll stay.”

“But how do I know that for sure?”

Dream is quiet. George feels bad for springing this on him, but if not now then when? When they’d already broken the seal. He’s not running for the hills or calling him a crazy clingy bitch, so all things considered… it’s okay. 

His heart nearly stops for good when Dream plants a kiss to his cheek. On the bone of his eye socket, and George feels the pressure of his lips in his core.

“Sometimes you just have to take things on faith.” He murmurs, pulling away, “I wish I had a better answer for you. But if we both know… then maybe, um. A second chance can work out. I think it can, anyway…”

It’s earnest and shy and vulnerable. George can’t find it in him to keep arguing, even though he wanted to hear something better. He’s not sure anything Dream said would have made all the anxiety and dread melt away. But the kiss was nice, and he’s right here, so close he could reach out and touch him. And he is. 

“Okay.” He brushes his thumb over his cheekbone. Once more, “Okay.” 

Distantly, the dinner bell rings. Dream’s head shoots up to see where the sudden noise is coming from, panicked before registering what it is. He’s always so skittish.

“Do you want to go eat?”

“I kind of wanted you to keep showing me stars.”

“We can do both. Just take it back to eat here. And I can actually pick up the star chart while we’re over there.”

George smiles, hugging him tightly around his neck. Unspoken agreement. Dream wraps his arm around him to support him as he stands, George being dragged upright with him.

Dream lingers to keep hugging him. He smells like grass. There’s petals stuck into his hair, a few blades of grass. Dirt on his ass. George takes a moment to pluck them out, except the flowers. They’re pretty.

“There’s a bunch of dirt on your butt.”

“What, you're too scared to get it off for me?”

George dusts him off with an exaggerated sigh of annoyance. “I just thought I’d ask before you thought I was fondling you.”

Someone calls for them distantly. 

“Ew. I hate that word.” Dream untangles himself, taking his first few steps away from him and toward the house.

George pauses before following, the sight of Dream’s back striking familiar in a way that makes his heart ache. He doesn’t know exactly what it means. He’s scared of following. What if, what if, what if.

A ghost of his former self lays his hands on his back and pushes. He’s set stumbling forward. 

A stumble, a stumble, then a firm foot, and another, and another. 

And another.

[gabessquishytum]

I really wanted to reign myself in and NOT send you an ask this morning but OMG the house of night anon!!! I used to love those books (like, the first three or so before they turned really, really bad) because I’m nothing if not a slut for shitty vampire novels and we only get the more popular ones translated here :D

Morpheus would look soooo gorgeous with a half moon mark on his forehead? Fits amazingly well into the whole grumpy emo/goth vibe he’s got going on. (Technically it should be an outline but as the anon said, the protagonist progresses really fast and instead of years it takes months for the half moon to fill in. I think there was a prophecy involved? It’s been a while)

Anyway, the thing that kept me invested in the books way longer than I thought they were any good was the whole magic aspect? Like, they’re doing proper magic rituals and the potential for horny professor!Hob and student!Dream shenanigans is just too good to pass up?

iIrc you need five people for a proper circle in this universe, but let’s skip that to the kind professor secretly helping Morpheus out with magic rituals to figure out just why he’s special. This means late night meetings in the library, sneaking around on campus for clandestine strategy discussions and finally the rituals in the middle of the night.

The binding circle on the ground glows with magic, the bowls that house representations of the elements are vibrating, it looks like morpheus and Hob are hovering over the ground as they speak the incantations. They are granted insight, a future where Morpheus has survived the initial months and where he’s fighting something-

The vision breaks suddenly and Morpheus is back to reality and in Hob’s arms. Hob’s shaking him because he was just levitating and bleeding and he was so worried about him.

Morpheus is alright, but the residual magic is filling him with restless energy and Hob’s shirt is basically see through and five seconds later he’s toppled them over, mounting his professor in the middle of the binding circle. The ritual left him so, so hungry and professor Gadling looks so, SO tasty.

Hob knows he should stop Morpheus because he’s his student and it’s bad enough that he’s had this embarrassing crush on him ever since he came to school the first time with his strange mark. But it’s just so, so hard. Because Morpheus fascinates him like no other, he’s so lovely when he allows himself to be and all the sneaking around for research purposes at night (or rather during the day) allowed him to catch glimpses of the real Morpheus, who’s funny and kind and whip-smart. And, fuck, but he’s also so fucking beautiful so he can’t do anything but let Morpheus bite his throat and claw at his shirt, riding his thigh until he cums in his skintight jeans. He holds him through his orgasm, whispering sweet nothings into his ear and lets him rest until he’s come down enough for them to banish the circle.

Afterwards Morpheus is so, so exhausted he can barely stand. There’s no way Hob can smuggle him back into his dorm room, so he takes him to his own flat on campus. It’s risky but a lot more private and this way Morpheus can at least rest a bit more and clean himself up before he goes back to his room to tell everyone he just lost track of time in the library…

Hob sleeps on his couch and leaves Morpheus in his bed. He dreams strangely and he’s pretty sure he’s dreaming of Morpheus but it feels more like a shared memory? It’s very strange.

The next day, they don’t talk about it. Hob lends Morpheus some clothes, lets him shower and makes him breakfast. The new familiarity from his dreams still lingers and it’s so hard to not pull Morpheus on his lap and feed him the waffles, interspersed with kisses.

They try to keep their distance but the dreams come back all the time in very graphic detail. Hob cums in his sleep nearly every night now and from the embarrassed/panicked glances Morpheus throws him, he’s not faring much better.

They take some class trip or something and the proximity of them being in rooms next to each other seems to help. The first night they get at least a few hours of sleep. The next morning Hob knocks on Morpheus door (who has a room of his own) and somehow they end up in bed together.

That evening, Hob sneaks into Morpheus room. He bends him over the bed to fuck him until they’re both ready to drop from exhaustion. It’ll help with the dreams, he’s sure of it. They do sleep soundly that night, for the first time in weeks, but that has more to do with the fact that they’re entwined the whole night. The dreams still come (and so do they) but they’re clearer now, shedding a light on their shared past.

Love, 💄

Asdfghj I'll be honest I have not read these books but I love the setup. Thank you SO MUCH for filling in this au even more!!

I just think. The inherent sexiness of a vampire ritual. It's very hot, right? Magic and blood and emotions right there on the surface. It's going to lead to some absolutely feral sex on the floor, right in the middle of the spell ingredients. Hob probably tells himself that it's a good thing. Sweet, precious Morpheus is so stressed. He needs someone to help him take the edge off, before he hurts himself. Hob is just being a good mentor by palming his pert little arse through his jeans and encouraging him to rut his way to a climax. Morpheus clearly needs someone to take care of him, poor darling. Hob can do that. Keep him safe and fed on Hob’s blood until nothing else will satisfy him. Nothing but the best for him.

[heyitspizzaking]

I need to practice being myself again here on tumblr. When the Tumblr Purge happened, I casually moved all of my thoughts and personal inspection onto twitter. Because it really looked like the ol tumb was dead in the water. But now it’s the other way around (way to go on not dying, tumblr!).

But I’m finding it hard to go back to the mindset I used to have here. To post ramblings, or just what happened to me today. Journal stuff. I used to do that a lot, but I don’t know. I feel a little disconnected from the community here. But that’s because I’ve kept my distance. Looked at it through the outside in instead of being in the thick of it.

I don’t know, I guess I just miss what this space used to be for me.

Okay, so…let’s try this. I’m going to reintroduce myself to everyone here. Here goes:

Hi! My name is Alex Rhys! Or, that’s my pen name. “Alex” has been with me since birth. “Rhys” is relatively new, but I really dig it. I’m nonbinary. Usually the they/them type, but lately I’ve taken on all pronouns. So him/her, it doesn’t bother me as long as it’s not insulting. I’m an artist. And a writer (or “word artist”). I make comics about cute queer folks like @robinandcat . And draw characters I like from video games, anime, comics, and so on. I enjoy painting with bright bursts of color! I’m pretty quiet and shy…still…but being in my 30’s has brought me some peace about it. I like connecting with people, it’s just tough for me to do, and that’s okay. I’m good with who I am.

That’s me! Alex the veteran tumblrite. Trying to keep this space open for myself. Okay. Cool. Now how do I end these things agai———

[mental-health-advice]

Hello, I’m a high school student and I’ve noticed that things in my friend group have been tense lately. Whenever I say something, I’m sometimes ignored or no one will respond and there will be just silence. It’s been getting worse lately and I’ve been trying to find new topics of conversation but it doesn’t really work. Out of anxiety, I went through previous pictures of myself with my friends and have found that there is one particular person in my group who always looks uncomfortable around me but covers it up very well. This person (Lets call her T) has been friends with me for almost 2 years now. I’ve looked back on conversations with them and it’s always hard to talk them. Some key things that have happened over the last couple of months have lead me to suspect that they are a definite part of the reason as to why my friends are distancing themselves from me. I want to know if I should continue to make it up with T, build better and stronger relationships with my other friends in that group and find the core issue that’s leading to this tense atmosphere, or give up and find new friends. My family has been struggling with money this year due to COVID and to lessen the weight, Ive been thinking of whether or not I should change schools to go somewhere cheaper and make new friends. Please keep in mind that generally my friends and I have known each other for 5+ years now. I find myself attached to them but also wonder if I should let them go. They aren’t saying anything outright or being mean but they’re distancing themselves. Maybe 1 or 2 people aren’t doing so and are staying by me but I know that T has definitely said something. My relationship with T has been going down a steady decline and I don’t think it’s salvageable, but I also know that she has a strong grip on my other friends. Due to current issues with myself, I have found it difficult to connect with my friends further bc of this anxiety I feel. I’ve always been good friends with everyone in my group but they’ve always been closer with each other bc being so close to them is exhausting for me and I get really emotionally tired. I feel like I could lessen my family‘s financial burden and make new friends (but it’s really difficult for me, I’ve known these people for years) OR try to make up with them, find the issue in the group, and find a way to fix it. I think you should also keep in mind that it’s currently holidays for me and I have 6 weeks until I go back to school - I’ll be starting year 11 next year so this is really important for me. Or maybe I’m not looking at all the other options and should be thinking more outside the box. Maybe I should talk to one of my closer friends about it and tell them how I feel? Please also keep in mind that I really don’t want to talk to my family about this. I’m really sorry for how long this is. I’m just really panicking.

Hey there,

I am so sorry that you are going through all of this and especially with T. I know you probably already know this but sometimes friends may ‘outgrow’ each other or begin to go in different directions. I am not in any way suggesting that this is what is happening in this current situation but it may be something to keep in mind.

It doesn’t sound as though you have done anything to T that would result in her or your other friends being so tense when you are around them. If it was just one person who was distancing themselves from you then I’d suggest it may be because they were going through something personal that may be taking up more of their time than usual or that they had something else going on that may not even have anything to do with you. But given the fact that it’s your whole friend group makes me feel as though something else may be going on.

For example, you mentioned that you have known your friends for 5+ years and T only for 2 years, is it possible that T may be feeling jealous of you and the number of extra years you have had your other friends for? It definitely seems to me that T is the more dominant person in the friend group and as you mentioned it definitely sounds as though she has a strong grip on what happens within the group. It’s so good to hear though that at least 2 friends are sticking by your side!

It can be so difficult when things like this happens within a friend group and especially with other stressors like with covid and knowing that your parents are struggling financially also and so of course you wanting to lessen the load if at all possible and this speaks really big of yourself!

I can’t tell you what to do and so obviously I cannot tell you if you should keep with your current friend group and try and improve the situation or to change schools and start over, but sometimes when I have a tough choice to make, I find that writing a pro’s con’s list can be helpful. Even this can make things confusing though so what do you feel is best for you to do right now, keeping in mind that you have the right to be happy and feel good about whatever you do decide to do.

For example, if you stay with how things as they are, what things can you do to try and improve the situation? Perhaps you could speak to those 2 friends who are sticking by you and ask for their advice, or confront T and have a quiet chat with her in regards to how you are personally feeing about everything.

If you were to change schools, how would this make you feel starting fresh but not knowing anyone to begin with? How would you make new friends, would it make you more anxious when it comes to making new friends or would you be OK with doing this? And remember that if you do choose to change schools, you do not have to lose contact with your friends completely and especially with those 2 who are sticking by you.

These are just some things to consider!

I really hope that this has helped a bit and please do let us know if we can help to support you in any other way!

I’m thinking of you and hope that you are going well!

Take care,

Lauren

[silavut-the-wizard]

Silavut the Wizard, Chapter 67

Sehlan has a talk with Nara, and Anielle makes a choice...

Alliances

Lothiren flies as fast as a dragon can. Though dragons are powerful, they can’t teleport, unfortunately. So Lothiren needs to stop every now and then to rest and recoup strength to continue flying. I hope I’m not too late, the dragon thinks. They better be OK. That Powers-damned woman… Lothiren shudders at the thought of what would happen if they were caught. Poor Tail and Vekta. Maybe the wizard can put them right again.

The beasts that were once Tail and Vekta steadily grow closer to tracking the group. They were farther ahead than Lothiren. Not by much, but enough the dragon couldn’t keep up. They had the advantage of solid ground to traverse. Sure, a dragon could use the ground, but they lumber along, getting far less distance than if they flew.

Back in her tower, she watched silently through a scrying bowl. Her scrying was currently more powerful than any other being on the planet. Even Silavut couldn’t compete. Though he was powerful, he still had a long way to go. She watched as the dragon and her creations raced to reach the group. The dragon was lagging behind, she noted, and giggled with devilish glee.

The next morning, after breaking camp, Sehlan whispered to Silavut she would try to talk to Nara. He nodded and finished readjusting his pack.

“Hey,” Sehlan greeted Nara.

Nara looked up from her packing. “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

“I… uh… wanted to talk to you, if you want. I kind of noticed you’ve been a bit… off… distant… lately. Is everything OK?”

“Yeah…” Nara sighed. “No… I don’t know.” She looked around and saw the other two a good distance away, finishing their packing. “Well…”

“It’s OK, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No! I mean, no… I do. It’s just… Hard.” Nara glanced at the other two again. “Are you sure it’s OK? I mean, with those two…?”

Sehlan looked back for a few seconds, then turned back around. “I’m sure. I told Silavut I’d talk to you. As for Anielle, well, I’m sure he’ll take care of her.”

“I see.” Nara talked a bit lower, to make sure only Sehlan could hear her.

Behind him, Silavut could hear parts of their conversation, but then it got quieter and could only hear whispers and murmuring, unable to make anything out. It was probably for the best. He finished packing and went to talk to Anielle.

Nara continued in her quieted voiced. “Well… I’m almost seventeen. I see you and him together and I start… feeling… things. Things I never felt before. I don’t know how to describe it.”

Sehlan nodded her head in understanding and helped try and explain. “It’s like even though you’re not alone, you still feel lonely.”

“Yes, exactly!” Nara hissed, excited Sehlan understood.

“I remember when I felt that way once, a long time ago. I saw people together and thought, ‘Boy, I sure would like to have that.’ Then it got complicated. Long story short, people wanted my body, not me. Until I met him.” She thumbed back at Silavut. “I… we… got lucky. He had never had anyone besides his parents and Vorin. I had everyone except myself, if that makes sense.” Nara nodded. “Then when we met because of… well, all this… I guess fate, destiny, whatever you want to call it, stepped in. Now we have each other, and you. You’re still young. You may not find what you’re looking for on this adventure, but I’m sure one day, on some magical journey, you’ll find the one.”

Nara nodded. “Yeah, OK.” She looked down solemnly as she slowly finished packing.

“I know it may not be what you wanted to hear, but there it is. At least you still have yourself, and us. I hope that’s OK for now.”

Nara sighed and shrugged. “Yeah, for now.”

“Hey, come here.” Sehlan lightly put her hands on Nara’s shoulders and gently prompted her to turn towards her. They looked at each other for a moment before Nara rushed to hug her. “You may still have these feeling for a while yet, but just know you’re our family now. We’re all in this together. Feeling better?”

“Yeah. A little.” Nara sniffled and nodded into her embrace. “Thanks, Sehlan. Thank you for understanding, and everything else.”

“Of course. Glad I could help. Any time you need to talk, we’re here. If you feel you can’t talk to Silavut, you can always talk to me. Or vice-versa. OK?”

“Yeah. OK.”

They parted and Nara wiped away tears as Sehlan turned to the other two. “Oh… Oh no…”

“What?” Nara looked around, not seeing Silavut or Anielle.

“Where’d they go?” Sehlan asked, more to herself than anyone else.

“I don’t like this,” Nara replied quietly, leaning against Sehlan.

“Me neither.” Sehlan looked around worriedly.

~~~~~~~~~~

Silavut and Anielle were in a dark place.

“Ah, the traitor and the wizard,” came a woman’s voice.

“We know it’s you,” Silavut said to thin air, looking around for the source.

“Do you, now? Well then, let’s get a bit more cozy, shall we?”

A flash. She was there, dressed in regular clothes, looking like any other commoner. They were sat around a table. It was unimpressive, just a seemingly ordinary table. Atop it was a bland centerpiece of a melted candle.

“That’s not fooling anyone. Where are we? What do you want?” Silavut asked, looking around the still-dark space save for their illuminated space.

“One thing at a time. We’re nowhere. This is just a primal void. Though we’re not really here, either.”

“How can we be nowhere but not here at the same time?” asked Anielle, puzzled at the statement.

“Tut-tut. A magician—or rather, sorceress—never reveals her secrets.”

Silavut knew exactly what she meant. Though he wouldn’t divulge it to Anielle, at least not at the moment. He might explain it to her later, if she proved useful. Instead, he said, “OK, now we know where we’re not. How about telling us what you want?”

“In due time, my poor, clueless, meddling wizard. Right now, I want you to see this.”

In the air above the center of the table appeared Sehlan and Nara, huddled together, searching for their companions, worried expressions on their faces.

“You see. Without you, they’re just scared little bunnies, waiting for the slaughter!” The last was said in a harsh voice. Then the vision changed to them lying on the ground, bloodied and torn open, as if attacked by a wild animal. No… the hunter beasts. Tail… Vekta… Silavut suddenly realized.

“No! That’s not real! You’re playing mind games again. I know those tricks,” Silavut said, waving his arm across the vision which vanished in a blur of smoke.

“Oh? How do you know? It could be a vision of the present, or the future.”

Anielle suddenly stood up, shoving her chair back. “Stop! We know it’s not real. You’ve had your fun. I know you. You raised me. Used me. You’re a cruel, vicious monster. I’ve decided… I’m no longer your puppet!” She said this with such voracious conviction, it actually took her aback, and there was a physical sensation as of a small explosion, but no actual physical effects. “My bonds to you are broken. You no longer hold sway over me. My alliance is now to them!” She pointed at Silavut. “Do to me what you will, but know that I am no longer under your power. I will no longer do your bidding.”

She laughed. “So be it, then, traitor.” She raised her arm to smite Anielle, but something stopped her. Silavut had somehow managed to sneak behind her. As she raised her arm, he grabbed it with all his might and pulled. “Let… me… go.” She tugged as hard as she could, but somehow his grip was stronger than she thought.

“No. You will not harm any of us—”

Before he could finish, another flash and she and the table were gone. They were alone in the void again. “You will never stop me,” came her disembodied voice. “As for what I want… I want all your heads on a giant, shining silver platter.”

With that, they felt like they were pushed out of existence.

[wildbornsiren]

"am i so hard to love?" and "i went to war with myself, for you." these are definitely something jake would say, what do you think?

Hello Nonnimouse, come back here and let me love you. These are things I can see Jake saying. I very much see his arrogance and brashness as a way to keep people at arm's length. Not because he can't love, have affection or build friendships with others, but because he cares too much. --------- You’re not exactly what time it is, just that it’s late. The room is pitch black, the ceiling fan and the soft ticking of the alarm clock the only noise. You can’t sleep because the man next to you is wide awake. You can feel him, even without looking, you know he’s on his back, hands folded on his chest, staring up at the ceiling. You had spent the evening arguing over many things, and right now for the life of you, you couldn’t recall a single one. “Am I so hard to love?” Jake asks. “Sometimes,” you say. “You do love me though?” “With every part of my being.” You say. The bed shifts as he turns onto his side. You can feel his fingers tracing along your back. “I loved you from the moment I met you.” “You didn’t act like it.” You sigh softly, his touch so light, familiar—and it just plain feels nice. “I struggle. Sometimes.” He says quietly. “With myself, with my career. How it affects me, how it affects the people I care about.” It's rare for him to be this open, your heart pounds in your chest. He’s always been blunt and up front, but this? You can hear the hesitation in his voice, how he pauses after he says a sentence, almost as if he's considering taking it back. “We all struggle with things Jake. I love you absolutely, and I’m happy to tell you that whenever you need.” “You don’t fight with yourself though,” he says. “Keep everyone at a distance, because familiarity breeds comfort and comfort leads to caring. Caring hurts.” There’s a few more moments of silence. “Caring while pretending you don’t, hurts even more.” “I do sometimes, not so much as I’ve gotten older though.” “I went to war with myself for you.” The admission is so quiet, it’s whispered against your skin. His forehead rests against your shoulder, his arms snaking around your waist to pull you close. “Who won?”   “I did.” His grip tightens just a little bit. “I won, there wasn’t any way that I was going to lose you.”

[hispipsqueak]

Model Behavior

Mammon x F!Reader - NSFW  WC:2K

Summary: Mammon and MC get roped into a photo shoot that gets a little bit spicy TW: unprotected sex, creampie. semi-public, oral (F receiving) A/N: AHHHH are you guys as hype for the OM anime??? VIP gets it this Friday and I am HYPE!! Can’t wait to see all my beautiful boys. Also, I’ve been writing this for like a month and finally finished it today since I forced myself to stay awake til it was over. I’m sleepy. I hope you enjoy. 

"Hurry up MC! These fashion types always get pissy when I'm late." Mammon tugged your arm, dragging you behind him. 

"Calm down! We'll be there on time." You said, but sped up anyway. Mammon was dragging you along to one of his photo shoots. You had to admit you were a bit excited, though you were trying to play it cool. The ivory-haired demon was already super attractive, but these photoshoots made him look incredible. You may have had a couple of your favorite magazine covers and ads of him hidden in your room.

But he didn't have to know that.

"I'm here. Let's go!" Mammon yelled out as he slammed the door open. He lifted his shades and tossed his jacket onto a nearby chair.

"Ah Mammon! Fashionably late as always...ah, but who is this?" A glamorous looking older witch peered at you over her eyeglasses. She reached out and gripped your chin. turning your face to either side.

"Hey, hands off the human!" Mammon suddenly tugged you back behind him, much to the witches amusement. 

"A human? And so attractive at that...SCRAP THIS! I have a new vision! We are going to go BOLD, daring, sensual! Get them both into wardrobe!" she barked to two frazzled lesser demons, who pushed you and Mammon down a hallway. Mammon tightened his grip on your hand.

"Wha-Oi! Keep yer hands where I can see 'em!" Mammon threatened one of the demons as they pulled off your jacket. Another frazzled demon came in and handed you each a garment bag, pushing you both towards two curtained off dressing rooms.

"Um, I'm not really a model." You called out to nobody in particular.

Mammon sighed and you heard the rustling of fabric as he dressed. 

"It's no use MC. Once she gets a vision, it's gonna happen. Hurry up and get dressed."

You unzipped the bag and your eyes widened at the little amount of fabric. You heard the witch yell out more directions in the distance and you pulled the dress on. 

Either she really gauged your size quickly or the outfit was charmed. because the dress fit like it was tailor made for you. The fabric hugged your curves and fell in all the right places. You looked in the mirror in front of you and gasped. The dress had cut outs along the sides and a keyhole cut, showing off ample cleavage. How the hell were you going to walk out of there in front of everyone in this?!

"Ya done, MC?" Mammon called out. You took another look at yourself before swallowing down your nerves and sliding on the attached heels.

"Uh...yeah." You pulled back the curtain.

"Let's g-" Mammon's words trailed off as he glimpsed you in the revealing dress. Your face felt hot as you could see his eyes roam down your body, taking in each slit of the fabric and down your bare legs. Your hands wrapped around yourself.

“I look ridiculous Mammon! I can’t go out like this!” You whispered, unsuccessfully covering yourself with your arms. Mammon, who hadn’t closed his mouth since earlier, finally snapped back.

“Ya look…” he never finished the thought, because you both were being shoved back to the set by the pair of demons from before. 

“Ahh! Marvelous! This is going to be the TALK of Devilgram!” The witch clapped her hands together. She squinted and started positioning the two of you.

“Mammon, darling, wrap your hand on her waist, yes just like that. MC, is it? Turn your head to Mammon’s neck. A little closer…”

You were pressed against Mammon, your lips practically attached to the soft skin of his neck. You could smell his cologne and were hyper aware of his hand splayed on your hip. She adjusted you both slightly, arching your back more and repositioning Mammon’s arms. Finally she stepped back.

“Perfect! Now look into each other’s eyes.”

You looked up and met Mammon’s golden eyes. Maybe it was the cologne or the fact that you were tangled in his arms, but your heart raced as you stared into each other’s gaze. Flashbulbs went off around the two of you and you could vaguely hear the witch making orders to the photographer, but the two of you were consumed with each other.

“Your heart’s racin’ MC. Must be because you’re next to the Great Mammon after all.” He whispered, a grin threatening to spread on his face.

“Shut up, I’m fine.” You hissed through your teeth, though you could feel your skin heating up. Damn photo lights.

“I need something that will push this over the edge. Something...that exudes sexiness…” the witch muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Hey MC, ya trust me?” Mammon asked and you nodded, confused. One of his hands splayed on your lower back and he pressed his lips to the sensitive spot right below your ear. His hand pushed you close to him, arching your back and the flashbulbs went off rapidly.

“Perfect!! Sensual and daring! I can feel the animalistic ferality!” the witch cried out.

You were at a loss for words and your eyes closed as Mammon slipped his tongue out to lap at your skin.

“Shhh…” He breathed into your neck. From the outside, the two of you looked like professional models, albeit in a suggestive pose. Inside though, your heart was jackhammering in your chest as he nipped at your ear lobe. You felt something poke your thigh and looked down.

“Mammon! Are you…hard?”

“Ya think I could control myself when you look like that? Fuck MC…” the rest of his words were muffled as his breath tickled your neck and you tried to maintain your composure.  After what felt like an eternity, the director cut the shoot for the day.

“Great work Mammon, Y/N!” The witch barked out, turning to discuss something with the crewmates. Mammon ushered you towards your dressing rooms, but pulled you into a dark office in the back of the building.

Immediately, he latched himself to your neck, pressing kisses down the column of your throat.

“So fuckin’ hot MC. Fuck it took all I had to keep from fuckin’ ya right there.” He panted out as he bit hickeys onto the tops of your breasts. He tugged down the dress, causing it to rip open.

“Shit! Mammon, that was probably a million dollars!” You wailed, eyes widening.

He continued his assault on your chest, unfazed. “Fuck it. Shouldn’t have looked so fuckin’ good, babe.” His fingers ran down your skin, now freed from the dress and he squeezed at every inch of your curves. You shivered as his fingers trailed down your hips, pulling you closer to him. 

“Mammon, someone might see us! We can’t do –”

You lost your words as he continued to kiss down your tummy, feeling his warm breath inching closer to your heat. 

“Fuck...I wanted this so damn long. I wan’a taste every inch of ya, babe.” He whispered into your skin, tugging down your panties. Immediately, he buried his tongue inside you, lapping at your soaked folds. His painted nails dug into the flesh of your thighs, as he strained to explore every bit of you. Biting your lip, you tangled your fingers into his snow-white hair, gently tugging him closer into you. A low whine escaped his lips and the vibration had your body trembling.

“Fu-fuck Mammon...don’t stop, please…” Your words were strained as he slid his fingers across your skin and teased your entrance. The cool tiles on the wall pressed against your back as you gave into him, letting him devour you.

His tongue moved in a frenzy as he plunged two fingers inside you. Your vision blurred and your grip on his hair tightened, feeling as though if you didn’t hold on, you would float away in a euphoric rush. 

“That’s it babe...ya gonna cum for me? Cum in my mouth baby, lemme taste it.” Mammon panted as his fingers curled inside you, his lips enclosing around your clit. 

You cried out as you felt your body release on his lips. Groaning into your cunt, he slid his tongue up your folds, attempting to drink every drop from you. Your body twitched with sensitivity. 

“F-fuck…’s too much.” You panted out. He slowly pulled away, his dark skin glistening with your juices and looked up at you. His gleaming eyes met yours as he stood up and pulled you into a tender kiss. You could taste the sweet tang of yourself on his tongue as he pulled you impossibly close.

Finally breaking apart, you looked up at him with hazy eyes. The two of you looked drunk on lust and wordlessly you pulled at the buttons on his shirt as he undid his belt. Your fingertips traced the muscles on his chest, down his abdomen and you shivered at the hungry look he had on his face. You could see the tent in his boxers and he looked down at you, as if to ask you for consent. 

Nodding, you pushed down the waistband of his boxers, freeing his cock. A prominent ridge ran across, separating the tan shaft from the reddish tip. Precum glistened on the tip and you could feel your cunt clench at the idea of him inside you. 

Mammon, the normally blabbermouth brother, seemed lost for words. His cockiness was gone, replaced with a softness for you, the vulnerable side of him only you got to see. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him into another kiss.

“I want you so bad Mammon...please make love to me.” The words pressed into his neck like a fiery brand and he growled before lifting you onto the table and pushing himself into you. You hissed. Though he had prepped you, he was still thick and he slowed, searching your face for any discomfort. With a slight nod, your eyes fluttered as he bottomed out in you.

“You feel so good, my beautiful girl. Perfect baby…”, he whispered praises as he shallowly humped into you. You could feel the drag of his cock on your walls and you rocked to meet his thrusts. He had one hand on your lower back, the other propping the two of you up on the table and the feeling of being surrounded by him, as he gently fucked you on his cock had you gripping at his back muscles. 

“Yes...right there. Faster, ohh.” You breathed out as he plunged deeper into you, speeding up his rhythm at your request. The wood of the desk creaked and you knew if anyone was outside the door they would be able to tell exactly what the two of you were doing. But you were drunk on lust, dizzy in Mammon and he was infatuated with you, staring down at your heaving breasts as he pounded into you.

Your nails dig into his skin and his grip on you tightened as he pressed his lips to yours, swallowing your moans. You could feel the sweat plastering his hair to his skin and with every thrust, his body seemed to scream your name.

“Not gonna be able to...hold out much longer babe. You’re squeezin’ me so tight, fuck…”  He panted into your neck, licking at the salty skin and leaving soft bites. You could feel the coil in your belly tighten as your body began to tense up. Wrapping your legs around him, you forced him into you deeper. Whimpers fell from his mouth as you bit on his shoulder.

“Fuck, fuck Mammon, I’m–” You cried out as you gushed around his cock. With a few more thrusts, Mammon yelped and pulled you against him as he spilled his seed into you. You could feel his cock throb inside you and he let out a low groan as he slowly pulled out, the mixture of the two of you spilling onto the desk and your thighs.

Your body felt wobbly and he gently laid you back on the desk. Your eyes closed and soon you felt a cloth cleaning you.

“Mmm...you’re such a sweetheart when you wanna be…” you smiled before looking down at the demon. Your eyes widened.

“MAMMON ARE YOU USING THE MILLION DOLLAR DRESS AS A CUM RAG?!”

He shrugged.

“Looks like we’ll just have to book another gig to pay it back, babe.”

[scuttling]

Lean on Me

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Gender Neutral Reader Word Count: 4,717 Tags: SFW, Fluff, 5+1 Trope, Obliviousness, Mutual pining, Aaron Hotchner deserves good things, Canon typical injury Summary: Five times you want to kiss the frown off of your boss's face, and one time you actually do it. *Requested by Anon. Link to AO3 or read below! “It doesn’t make sense.”

You stick a tack in a photo of a murdered woman—unfortunately one of many you’ve stuck to this board—and turn to face Hotch, who is looking over your handiwork with a quizzical expression.

“What doesn’t?” He takes a few steps closer, crosses his arms in front of him.

“Why would the unsub leave his comfort zone? The first six abductions occurred within five miles of the college, so why did the seventh and eighth happen almost twelve miles away?” He reaches for the board, traces his finger along the circle Reid had colored in on the map. “We profiled that he’s disorganized and far from confident, so why would he do that?”

He looks over at you, frowns, and not for the first time your gaze is drawn to the little crease between his eyebrows that always forms when he is puzzled, worried, confused, stressed, or otherwise unhappy. In short, it’s there kind of all of the time.

For the first time, though, you think of how easy it would be to lean over, press your lips there, smooth it out, and maybe even get him to smile for a change. He has a great smile, when he lets people see it.

You shake the daydream, rewind back to the question he asked, and wrinkle your nose in thought.

“Maybe his circumstances changed? It's summer now, and there are still classes, but students aren’t living in the dorms. Maybe he moved back home or got an apartment off campus that’s within that area—or a job.” He sighs, runs a hand over the back of his head, nods.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. That’s good. I’ll mention it to the others.” He pulls out his phone, and you grab another photo, another thumbtack, but something stops you and you lay a gentle hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to think of everything, you know. That’s why you have us.” He exhales, his shoulders losing a little of their tension, and that forehead wrinkle gets a little less deep.

“Sometimes I forget that not everything needs to be done the hard way. Or by me.”

“What? You, Aaron Hotchner, doing things the hard way?” you tease, and you are gifted a glimpse of his rare, unfiltered smile.

“Okay, enough pointing out my flaws,” he says with a raised eyebrow, though he’s still smiling, and as he looks down to type out a text, you remember to pull back your hand.

“I would never.” He looks up from his phone at that—maybe at the conviction in your voice, which you hadn’t exactly intended—and his expression softens further.

“I know you wouldn’t.” You hold eye contact for a moment, and then turn to finish preparing the board, pinning up another photo of another woman and reminding yourself that they need you to focus on the task at hand. Two weeks later, you knock on Hotch’s office door, a stack of completed consults in your hand. He looks up, that familiar notch in between his brows, a scowl on his face; when he sees that it’s you, he tones it down a little.

“Draw the short straw?” he asks, and you figure that’s because everyone knows he is in a bad mood and they’ve been avoiding this office all day. You shrug.

“It was rock, paper, scissors, but yes.” He huffs a short laugh, and you smile, step toward his desk. “Anything I can do to lighten the load?”

“Technically you’re adding to it,” he says with a glance at the files in your hand, and you set them on one of the chairs with a purposefully loud thump and then take the other seat.

“Technically. But technically, you only need to review my consults; I can review theirs. Right?” He mulls it over a moment, like the thought never crossed his mind—of course Aaron I have to do everything myself Hotchner would never suggest such a thing, even as the team sits in the bullpen with nothing to do, seeing who can throw M&Ms into Spencer’s mouth from the furthest distance.

“Technically,” he agrees, and you pluck a pen out of his pen cup and take the first file off the pile, open it in front of yourself, careful not to cut into the workspace he’s occupying. You both smile softly down at your work, and you actively do not think about that wrinkle between his eyebrows.

About an hour later, he reaches for his mug out of habit but finds it empty; you stand, take it in your hand, and he makes a noise of protest.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you say, and you walk toward the door. “I need some too. I’ll be right back.”

You pass through the bullpen—apparently the M&M contest led to a sugar crash, because Spencer is laying with his head on his desk—and grab your cup off your desk, take both to the break room to fill them.

Derek appears next to you as you’re stirring your sugar in.

“Coffee date with the boss?” he asks with a curious expression, and you shake your head.

“Of course not. I’m helping him with the overwhelming amount of paperwork on his desk so his mood improves, instead of just ignoring him.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and Derek scratches the back of his head.

“Never thought of that,” he admits, and you pat him on the arm and take your coffees back upstairs.

Hotch looks up at you as you set his mug down, says a soft thank you, and you grab the pile of files you brought up, separate them, and head back downstairs.

“You review mine,” you say to Derek, handing him a stack, “Emily take Spencer’s, Spencer take Derek’s, I’ll take Emily’s.” They look at you like they have no idea what to say, and you just smile, tap the top of Spencer’s head with a folder. “I’ll come back down and grab them in a little bit.”

“Yes, boss,” Emily says, and you grin on your way back upstairs. Hotch is standing when you arrive this time, looking out the window over the bullpen.

“What did you do?” he asks, turning to you, frowning again. You’re so close that kissing that wrinkle would be effortless. All you’d have to do is lean in.

You smile.

“I delegated, Hotch. You should try it some time.” You put your hands on his arms and guide him back to his desk. “Now what can I help you with?”

By the end of the day, his desk is clean and his bad mood is long gone. He closes the last of his files, sighs deeply, covers your hand with one of his, and says thank you.

The next morning when you come in, there is a steaming latte and a cookie on your desk, and you can’t stop smiling the rest of the day. Your next case is draining, children abducted and left for dead, and everyone is on edge, but no one more than Hotch. You’re fairly certain his face hasn’t relaxed since the initial briefing, and he’d be a prime candidate for the old ‘your face will get stuck like that’ joke, if anyone was up to joking.

The team catches the unsub, saves one child, but not until after three are dead; you take a late flight home because no one wants to stay another night in a town it feels like you’ve failed, and everyone curls up to get some rest except you and Hotch.

You try to read the book you brought along—a science fiction dystopian novel, something to get you out of your head and away from real life problems—but you’re a little distracted by Hotch’s sighing. It’s become an every-five-minutes thing, and while you’re definitely on board with sighing as a way to decompress, he’s not decompressing. He looks like he’s in pain mentally, exhausted physically; you’re not sure how everyone else was able to ignore it and go to sleep, but then you figure everyone else may not be as in tune with him as you are. As observant.

As in love.

Not that that matters: you know your issues, and some of his issues, and there’s the whole superior/subordinate thing which doesn’t really do anything for you except give you a stomach ache. It would never work out, even if he somehow, miraculously, were to love you back—and that’s a pretty big if in and of itself.

But still, you notice him, can’t help it, and the sighing is getting to be a little much. You sigh yourself, put your finger in between the pages of your book, and walk over to take the seat next to him; he looks over at you, frowning just like always, and you carefully close his file and set it aside.

Neither of you say anything to the other, just look each other over for a moment, and then you lean lightly against his shoulder and flip back to the beginning of your book.

“I still dream of the island. I sometimes approach it across water, but more often through air, like a bird, with a great wind under my wings. The shores rise rain-coloured on the horizon of sleep, and in their quiet circle the buildings: the houses grown along the canals, the workshops of inkmasters, the low-ceilinged taverns.”

You keep your voice low and soothing, and you are just turning to page fifteen when you feel the weight of his head drop onto your shoulder.

The crease between his eyes melts away in sleep.

You read until you make it home, and you wake him up with a gentle nudge before the rest of the team drifts back to consciousness. He looks at you, blinks slowly like he’s trying to remember where he is, and then gets a little sheepish when he puts two and two together, realizes he fell asleep on your shoulder.

You just shake your head, give his arm a squeeze, and head back to your seat to gather your things. You, Hotch, and Emily are catching the elevator to the parking garage—after staying two hours later to work on some rush consults straight from Strauss—when he looks at something on his phone that makes him groan aloud. You and Emily share a look, and you ask what’s wrong.

“I just remembered I’m supposed to have a treat for Jack to take to school tomorrow and it’s, what, seven thirty?”

“So just stop at the supermarket on your way home; no one can tell the difference anyway,” Emily says, but you and Hotch both shoot her a skeptical glance.

“It’s all about the treats at a school like Jack’s,” you supply, and Hotch looks over at you like he’s surprised by your comment. “If they’re not homemade, the parents talk. Plus there’s probably an allergen list a mile long: no nuts, no eggs, no soy, no dairy. You have to pick him up from Haley’s tonight, right?” You’re pretty sure, but when he nods he confirms it. “So pick him up, go home and get some dinner, put him to bed, and I’ll text you when I’m on my way over with the goods. I have a great recipe for vegan apple cinnamon muffins that will go over really well.”

“You really don’t have to do that; I’ll figure something out,” he says, but you just shake your head and pull up the recipe on your phone.

“Forget it, it’s already done. I have everything I need at home already; let me help,” you murmur softly, and when he looks at you with the furrowed brow that comes with accepting kindness from someone else, you almost forget it’s not just the two of you in the elevator. It’s only when Emily clears her throat that the eye contact breaks. He nods.

“Okay. Thank you; I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” The elevator dings and it stops at the parking garage; the three of you get off and head in separate directions for your cars. “I’ll text you.”

“Goodnight,” Emily says with a grin, and you wave at her, hop into your car, and head for home.

About two hours later, you show up at Hotch’s door with two dozen apple cinnamon muffins, and unbleached, whole wheat flour in your hair, and he has coffee brewing, a smile on his face.

“You don’t know how grateful I am,” he says as he ushers you into the kitchen, takes the boxes of muffins from your hands, and pours you a cup of dark, delicious coffee. You sip it slowly, savoring the taste—you should have known he’d have incredible coffee—even though it’s far too late for you to be indulging. Unless you’re working a case, you usually switch to decaf by three.

“I know you are. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you’d appreciate the gesture.” You lean forward, open a box, and pull out two muffins, handing one to him. “I made a couple extra so we could taste test; if I accidentally put salt in instead of sugar, you’re on your own,” you joke, and you wait for him to taste it before taking your own bite.

“That’s delicious. There’s really nothing unapproved in here?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“Nope, it’s all healthy and allergen free, except for the flour, but that wasn’t on the list you sent.” He reaches a hand toward you, and you don’t realize, at first, that he’s brushing the flour out of your hair.

“Messy baker,” he teases, and your heart feels really full, being in his kitchen like this, warm muffins and fresh coffee, even if your hair is a mess. You smile, and he smiles back before dropping into that serious expression, eyebrow wrinkle and all. You think about brushing your lips there tonight, but this feels like two steps forward, and you don’t want to risk taking that step back. “Next time I’ll help you.”

“Oh, next time? You plan on needing my baking expertise again? Fair warning, this is the only recipe I know, so I hope you like apple cinnamon muffins.” You take a sip of your coffee, look up at him, and he takes another bite, nods his head.

“I do. Especially these.”

In a perfect world, what comes next would be a cinnamony, coffee flavored kiss, but the world’s not perfect, and you yawn instead. You look down at your mug like it’s betrayed you, and Hotch chuckles low.

“It’s decaf. I know you usually stop in the afternoon; I wouldn’t forgive myself if you were up all night because of me.” You have always been a person who falls in love with all the little details about someone, so the fact that he’s noticed this, remembers this, makes your heart beat a little faster. “I should let you go. You’ve done so much today, between staying late and baking for Jack—for me. You need to get some sleep.”

He’s right, it’s nearly ten, and you should be getting back home, but this is a moment you never want to end.

You just nod, though, and he reaches out to brush his hand over your back when he walks you to the door.

“Thank you again. I really appreciate that you did this for me,” he says, soft, like he still can’t imagine you would.

“You’re welcome, Hotch. Any time, really; I’m happy to help.”

You get home, clean your kitchen, and have a very late dinner, and the smell of good coffee and apples and cinnamon is still in your nose when you drift to sleep. “You didn’t hear what he said,” Hotch snaps almost a month later, with one hand splayed on his hip and the other on the table in front of him. The moment you saw him engaged in an argument with a member of the Sheriff’s department, fire in his eyes, you’d grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a small conference room, shutting the door behind you. It took almost three minutes of staring at each other for him to say something instead of just glaring at you for interrupting the pissing contest.

“I don’t need to know what he said. I know you, and I know you handle people like that with a quick, sharp remark and then you wash your hands of it. You don’t argue back and forth, you don’t draw it out. You would have regretted it if you did that today, so I stopped you.”

“You think you know me so well, do you?” he asks in an unkind tone of voice you can’t identify, haven’t heard from him before; the expression on his face is familiar, though, a scowl that only puts emphasis on his handsome features—it’s unfair, really.

You exhale, cross your arms.

“Yes, and I know you well enough to know you’re irritated with him, not me, so cut the shit.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever been quite that direct with him, and certainly the first time you’ve ever sworn at him; your immediate instinct is to apologize, but he surprises you by huffing a laugh. The angry lines of his face smooth into something softer.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. He just—I can’t stand people like that.” He scrubs a hand through his hair in irritation. “We’re here to work—to do a job they couldn’t finish on their own. Not to be… objectified.” He mutters the last word, so low you almost don’t hear it, and then there’s a knock at the door. Derek enters.

“Sheriff wants a word, Hotch; do you have a sec?” With one last look at you, he nods, brushes past him to leave the room. Derek gives you the barest hint of a smile. “He was defending your honor, you know.”

You frown. You didn’t know.

“That jerk was talking about me?” you ask, clarifying, and he nods.

“Something about assuming you’re an athlete because he likes your ass. Set the boss man off.” You walk over to him and leave the room together, heading back to your workspace.

“Well Hotch is right, we’re here to work, not to be objectified. I can see how he would get angry.” Derek shoots you a flat, questioning glance.

“You think he’d be getting that worked up if it was my ass that guy was talking about? Or Emily’s?” The two of you stop outside the conference room, and you cross your arms, lean against the doorframe, frown.

“So what are you trying to say? That he sees me as being weak, thinks he needs to defend me? I'm as capable as either of you.” That may not be strictly true, because you’re a little more brains than brawn, like Spencer in that way, but you can hold your own and you thought Hotch knew that.

Derek just laughs, shakes his head, and ducks into the room. You follow, so confused.

“I thought you were just playing it close to the vest, but you’re oblivious, aren’t you?”

“Oblivious about what?” Emily asks, pen between her teeth, feet kicked up onto a chair, and you shrug.

“I’m still not sure. Hotch got into an argument with a deputy about me, and I asked Derek if Hotch thinks I’m weak and that’s why he felt like he had to defend me.” She smiles broadly around the pen, pulls it out of her mouth with a grin.

“Oh, honey. That’s not it. You know that’s not it, right?”

“I clearly don’t know what’s going on at all, so no, if you’d care to enlighten me,” you say, sinking into an empty chair. “I hate it when you guys are cryptic.” You love your team, but they have a habit of doing this all the time, saying things to each other with their eyes, or just a few words that don’t have any sensible meaning that you know of. It’s like they live to talk over your head, to say things without actually saying them.

“Okay. Hotch has a thing for you,” Emily says simply, and you blink.

Well that’s the very last thing you’d expected to hear.

“He absolutely does not.” You look at Derek, who’s making a face like you’re the one being crazy; you laugh out loud, can’t help it. “He does not. I’m pretty sure Hotch doesn’t have things, and if he did, he wouldn’t have a thing for me.”

“Why not? Because that would be too convenient, since you have a thing for him too?” Derek asks, taking the seat across from you, and you grab the nearest case file, flip it open and focus your attention on it.

“I care about him, the same way I care about all of you, and he maybe needs a little more care—but you guys are reading into things.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to say anything more, because Hotch, JJ, and Spencer return, and you all have a lead to work.

You can’t help but wonder if you’re being obvious about your feelings, though, especially later, when you get back to the hotel and the group decides to have a drink at the bar.

JJ and Emily hit the pool table while Derek and Spencer head up for drinks, and you are left sitting with Hotch at the table, pressed together in the inside corner of a booth.

“Tired?” you ask him, because he does look worn out, his tie a bit loose, his eyes a little red. You know he doesn’t get much sleep when you travel, and you can’t imagine he’ll go to bed even when this little detour is over.

“Always,” he sighs, but when he looks over at you, he smiles, just a little. “Just can’t wait to get out of this town.”

“Yeah, it gives Southern hospitality a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?” The people you’ve interviewed today are, on paper, quite respectable, but there’s a Desperate Housewives, ‘everyone is sleeping with someone else's spouse’ kind of thing going on, and it’s honestly exhausting. To your surprise, Hotch laughs.

“It really does. I don’t think I’ve ever missed the quiet solitude of my apartment quite this much.” You lean back against the vinyl of the booth, sigh.

“I miss my apartment, but it’s been too quiet lately. I prefer the sounds of someone else sharing space with me: the coffee maker percolating, the news in the background, the shower running, the sound of flipping the pages of a book or magazine.” You look down at your hands, because you’re getting a little more emotional than you usually let other people see. “Sorry. I’m not typically this open about being…”

You trail off, but Hotch looks over at you, concerned, the wrinkle between his eyebrows even more noticeable when you’re sitting this close. You think, just briefly, of running your thumb over it, but with your luck, Derek or Emily would see, and you’d never live it down.

“Lonely?” he finishes softly, and when you nod your head, he covers your hands with one of his own, bumps his shoulder against yours. “I get lonely too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” You look up at him, feeling a little vulnerable, and his expression softens. “When we get back, maybe you could come over for dinner some night. Nothing fancy,” he clarifies, and you smile, “just two lonely people being a little less lonely.”

“That would be really nice.” You can see Derek and Spencer approaching out of the corner of your eye, and Hotch must too, because he removes his hand, slips back into the slight, persistent frown you have come to know and love. Derek looks at you, raises an eyebrow, and hands you your beer. You try to tell him to shut up with your face, plan to follow up later to see if that actually worked. “We have an agent down on the second floor,” Spencer says into his comms, and you immediately want to slap him in the back of the head.

“Don’t say agent down, kid; I’m like, slightly wounded at best.” You hold a hand against the stab wound on your side—the unsub honestly just grazed you, and you’d knocked him out with a single punch, which made you feel pretty awesome—and reach out the other so he can help pull you to your feet. Your hand comes up to your own walkie button. “I’m not down, I’m fine—just slightly stabbed,” you add, and Spencer is getting his cuffs on the unsub when Hotch and JJ burst through the doors.

Well, Hotch bursts. JJ follows behind looking strangely winded for one of the most naturally athletic people you know.

“What happened? Are you alright?” he asks, and you lift your shirt to show him the sluggishly bleeding gash.

“I’m fine, see? It’s not even deep. Spencer saw blood and got a little ahead of himself.” You turn to Spencer, who sticks out his tongue, then back to Hotch, who looks haunted and pale, with that goddamn wrinkle between his eyebrows again. He’s bent down, looking over your wound seriously—you’ve had worse, so much worse, that you don’t understand why he’s so worried about it—and then he leans up, presses a hand to your cheek, and pulls you close for a soft, tender kiss.

If this were a movie, right about now a camera would be panning around you in a circle, as you wrap your free hand around his neck, pull him closer, melt against his body like it’s all you’ve been dreaming of for months, and the two of you would break apart smiling, maybe even kiss again.

It’s not a movie, though, so you just bleed out against your hand and freeze, because Hotch is kissing you at a crime scene and you almost got filleted, so you’re not sure if this is a you got hurt, so I’d better kiss you kiss or an I’ve been wanting to kiss you forever, and you got hurt so I have to kiss you kiss.

When he breaks the kiss, you’re both breathing a bit heavily, and you don’t know what to do, so you just lean in and press your lips to that wrinkle between his eyebrows that you’ve been thinking about so frequently since the first time you noticed it. You brush a hand through his hair, and when you pull back, he’s smiling.

“What was that?” He covers your hand on your side with his own and helps get you toward the elevator so you can be patched up by the EMTs; JJ and Spencer are left staring, open-mouthed in your wake, with an unconscious unsub at their feet, but neither of you are concerned about that.

“I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now: to kiss that spot between your eyes so you’ll stop frowning for a change. Since I couldn’t, I decided to find other ways to help you stop frowning so much. It kind of became my life’s mission.” He sighs, puts his arm around you and holds you close while you wait for the elevator to bring you to the ground floor.

“I stop frowning when you’re around because you’re around, not just because of the things you do for me,” he tells you, and he presses his lips to yours for another warm, soft, perfect kiss. “I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now.” You tilt your head, make a sound of contemplation, and he chuckles softly. “What is it?”

“I think those cryptic idiots we work with might be onto something,” you say with a grin, and when the elevator lets you off and Hotch helps you toward the ambulance to be patched up, Derek and Emily are waiting with concerned looks on their faces. They must be pretty confused to see you’re grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you guys were right; Hotch does have a thing for me!” you call as you walk past them, and when your wound is properly dressed and wrapped, you put your arms around his neck and let him kiss you until the frown and accompanying wrinkle are nothing but distant memories.

*The novel excerpt is from The Weaver by Emmi Itäranta.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

[mediocre-writerr]

who do you love [lexi howard]

lexi howard x reader

requested: Hiii! I just discovered your page while looking for Euphoria fics. I saw that you don’t have any Lexi Howard fics. Could I request a fic where Reader is partnered up with Cassie for a project or something and they meet Lexi and develops a crush on her, but Lexi is clueless and thinks reader has a thing for Cassie? Fluff please. Also your works are absolutely amazing!

a/n: italicized are rue's voiceover

*not my gif*

Lexi has always lived in the shadows of her sister. Every guy or girl she liked just never fell for her. They always fell for her sister. Cassie was the one in the spotlight and Lexi was just the background character.

You sat there with your earbuds in as your teacher went on and on about some project you guys had to do. But again, you weren't exactly listening.

Until he came over and ripped your earbuds out of your ear. You looked up at him with innocent eyes, "Ms. Y/L/N, you're partnered with Ms. Howard. Hopefully, she'll be able to fill you in since you weren't paying attention,"

You sent him a small smile before trudging your way over to Cassie. You heard a lot of things about her, but you didn't really care what everyone thought around here. Most of them were assholes anyway.

"So were you paying attention to anything he was saying?" you asked as you plopped down into the seat next to her.

"Not a word, but my friend Kat heard all of it. If you want you can come over tonight, we can start working on it, getting it over with," she offered and you nodded. 

“Sounds great,”

You see this was the start of a beautiful friendship for Y/N and Cassie. They became as thick as thieves. Everyone thought that Y/N and Cassie would eventually get together, but the entire time Cassie was just trying to get her newly found best friend to admit feelings for her sister. 

And those feelings started, cheesy to say, but at first sight.

You knocked on the Howard’s door, bouncing on the balls of your feet. You didn’t really know how to feel, Cassie was popular and well you? Not so much.

The door swung open and you swore your jaw dropped all the way to the floor. You were met with the younger Howard sister. She was beautiful. Her beautiful brown hair fit perfectly with her fair skin.

“You must be Y/N?” she says, snapping you out of your daze.

“Yeah, that’s me. Hi, Lexi, right?” you asked, stepping into the house as she held the door open.

“Yeah. Cassie went out with Maddy, but she texted me and said she’s on her way back. You can come in, you don’t have to wait outside like a dog,” she joked and you laughed together softly.

The two of you sat together on the couch. Your eyes gazed to the TV to see her watching Crazy Rich Asians. One of your favorite movies of all time. The screen was showing the montage of Rachel trying on all the different dresses for the wedding.

“This movie is a masterpiece,” you tell her.

She nods, “This is my first time watching it and I’m completely sold,” 

“Oh, you haven’t even gotten to the best part yet. The wedding scene is-” you put your fingers to your lips and kiss them, “Chef’s kiss!” 

“Hmm, I’ll have to take your word for it,” she said.

You continued watching as the wedding scene started. Lexi’s eyes were glued to the TV, but yours kept drifting towards Lexi. The way she watched intently as Kina Grannis started singing “Can’t Help Falling In Love”.

The scene ends and she looks at you, tears boarded at her eyes, “Why am I going to cry?” she laughed.

“Because it’s one of the most beautiful scenes in history,” you told her. 

The two of you just stared at each other. Her doe brown eyes were captivating and you couldn’t help your eyes from drifting down to her lips. There was a moment where you thought she did the same thing. 

The door bust open filled with laughter and Cassie and Maddy’s eyes landed on the two of you, “Hey Y/N, sorry I’m late. I see my sister was able to keep you company,”

“Oh yeah, Lexi was great. It was nice meeting you, I’ll see you around,” you told her. 

You see, my best friend Lexi developed a crush on Y/N right after that. But despite me and Jules telling her constantly that she felt the same way, Lexi still thought that you fell for her blonde sister and not her. 

“Cassie! I am not telling your sister that I like her. She does not feel the same way that I do. I am not going to risk my friendship that I’ve built with her and you,” you told her as the two of you laid on the bed in her bedroom.

She looked at you with her blue eyes like you were on drugs, “Are you kidding me right now? You sound like you just bought something from Fez. I’ve never seen my sister look at anyone the way she looks at you. You need to stop being a fucking coward and just tell her how you feel,”

“Okay, what if she does want to be my girlfriend? What if something bad happens? I lose the both of you and I can’t do that. I don’t want you to choose between me and your own sister,” you whispered.

Your heads were slightly tilted towards each other as you just stared at her, “I think you need to take advice from your favorite movie: you’re not playing to win, you’re playing to not lose. So play to win. Don’t think about the what if’s and even if things go south with my sister, I found a sister in you. You’re not gonna lose me either,” she said, “You’re one of my favorite people in the entire world, possibly my favorite, don’t tell Maddy that though. I love you so much Y/N,”

Little did the two of you know that Lexi was at the door way. She didn’t hear anything besides that you’re Cassie’s favorite person and that she loves you. 

“Awww someone loves me,” you nudge her shoulder, “But I’m for sure going to tell Maddy that I’m your favorite person. She’ll have a field day with that one,”

She pushed your face away from her, “You will not! I’ll just tell Lexi myself then,” 

You gasped, “You wouldn’t dare!” 

“Then you do it!” she exclaimed. 

Lexi avoided Y/N after that day. She also avoided Cassie. The two girls didn’t know why the brunette Howard was avoiding them. All they knew was that she avoided them every chance that she got.

It broke Y/N’s heart. She was finally ready to tell Lexi how she felt. And now, she wants nothing to do with her. No more movie nights. No more random ice cream days. But rather, Y/N going over to visit Cassie and being disappointed when their mom would answer the door and not Lexi.

You finally caught up to her as she was trying to sprint past you in the hallway. You grabbed her wrist and she looked back at you. The first time actually seeing those beautiful eyes of hers in weeks.

“What did I do? I understand if you don’t want to talk to me. I understand if you don’t want to be my friend, but please just tell me what I did. That’s the least I deserve,” you whispered, your voice breaking at the thought of losing one of your best friends. 

She shook her head, “Nothing, you didn’t do anything,” 

“I obviously did something, you’re not talking to me!” you exclaimed. 

Lexi broke free of your grasp, “You don’t need me Y/N. You have my sister. Cassie always wins. She’s always been in the spotlight. She always gets the guys and girls. Everyone I’ve ever liked, she went for them. And she always wins. I just thought for once that I mattered. That for once, the person I fell in love with chose me, but I guess I was wrong,” 

She stormed away and you were left with your mouth agape. Everything she said twirling in your brain. You immediately told Cassie all of it and your brain worked together to try and figure out a way to win her back. Until it all finally clicked.

You stood outside in the backyard of the Howard’s house. A slip n slide was in the path leading to you, switch on candles. You sat on the opposite side with a guitar in your hand. Luckily, you can play. 

Singing on the other hand, well let’s just hope it goes well.

“Cassie, I already said I don’t want to talk to you! You can’t bribe me with Bob Ross tutorials!” Lexi’s voice echoed as she closed the backyard door. 

She spotted you sitting there and she was immediately about to go inside when you yelled out to her, “Lexi please! Just let me explain, it’ll take maybe three or four minutes of your time,” 

Lexi walked down the slip n slide, but not before falling on her butt and sliding towards you. You let out a roar of a laugh as she finally reached down to you. She tried hard to fight off a laugh and a smile, but you could see it faintly. 

When you finally came down from your high she looked at you with raised eyebrows, “Well, I’m waiting,” 

You started playing the guitar. The melody you learned just hours before playing from the guitar. You took in a deep breath as you started singing the infamous song that got you to fall in love with her in the first place. 

“So, take my hand, take my whole life too. For, I can’t help falling in love with you. For, I can’t help falling in love with you,” you finish the song.

The two of you look at each other as you place your guitar down next to you, “You do matter to me, Lexi. More than you know. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you, but ever since the first night I met you I’ve always been in love with you,” 

“Cassie actually told me that I need to play to win. And if I had to slip on my ass a thousands times trying to set up this low budget recreation of the wedding scene in Crazy Rich Asians, I would. I did it because I need to win your heart, because Lexi, you already have mine,” 

A small smile breaks out onto her face as she closes the distance between the two of you. She kissed you ever so softly as you tasted the sweet taste of her lips. 

“And you have mine,” 

[ijustwant2write]

Call Me By My Name-Pietro Maximoff x Powers!Reader

(GIF credit to @dailymarvelposts​)

Tags: @bloodorangemoonlight​ @amirahiddleston​

Requested by @husherstan​ : ‘could you write a one w pietro maximoff? idk if you know about a trend on tik tok where a gf or bf call them partners by they first name. Reader and Pietro are enemies cuz them both are always trying to be the best of t team, reader calls him by others names and when she (or gn) calls by him real name he was like "why are you calling me like that? whats wrong with you? are you feeling bad today?" (and he likes her so fucking much, a simp)’

Characters: Pietro Maximoff x Reader, Avengers team x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name   

(Character has the power of force fields, that both generate electricity and provide protection for them/others)  

Warnings: Name calling, bullying, arguing, fluff

                                      *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“For the last time, watch where you’re going Speedy Gonzales!” I snapped as Pietro almost knocked me over again.

His form whizzed around the room once more before stopping in front of me.“Maybe try keeping up next time.”

I was startled by the force he left behind as he ran off again making a show of circling the entire training room multiple times, creating a small wave of air. I groaned loudly as I went back to jogging. He was such a show off, it infuriated me. We weren’t here to compete against each other, we were supposed to be a team; but when he waltzed around the place boasting about how fast he was, it was really hard not to step up to the plate. 

Pietro was running faster than usual, trying to overlap me dozens of times, more than he would have done in a normal session. It got on my last nerve, making me stop, my powers already flowing through my arms. It would be hard to pinpoint him, so I charged up a huge ball of electricity, casting it out harshly. I just managed to catch him, laughing as he yelped out in surprise, being thrown high into the air before landing on the sparring mats. I saw him slowly get up, clearly I had caused some pain. My fun was soon ended as he ran towards me again, having to quickly put up a force field that would protect me. Pietro bounced off it, though I hadn’t put any charge in this one, so he only fell on his backside.

“Enough!” Wanda yelled out, though we still kept our guard up around each other.“Really (Y/N)? You can relax now.”

“I don’t trust him.” I replied.

She sighed.“Come on, Steve wants to talk about the mission.”

“Why? We debriefed three days ago.”

“Something to do with it being on the news.” she shrugged, walking away.

Pietro glanced back at me, looking me up and down before following his sister. However, he didn’t look at me with disgust or anything of the sort, it was almost as if he was checking me out. I tutted at myself, why on Earth would he ever look at me like that?

I wasn’t happy joining the meeting in my sweaty state.Everyone else was dressed and put together, but at least Pietro looked similar. The team was gathered around a table, looking to Steve who was stood at the front, his arms crossed over his chest. He had the look of disappointment on his face, which meant bad news for the rest of us...or whoever was in trouble. With no seats left, I copied Steve’s stance at the back of the room, rolling my eyes when Pietro stood beside me.

“Sorry to call you guys in on such short notice.” Steve started.“But I feel that we have to discuss something that’s starting to effect the team.”

He pulled up a screen showing the news. It had images and videos of our last mission. We were raiding an old factory on the edge of the city, finding a terrorist group hiding out there as they worked on their gadgets. News coverage showed the team fighting from a helicopter view, and we were all confused as to why Steve was showing us this.

“Fastest man alive,” Pietro repeated what the reporter said,“it has a nice ring to it.”

“I wouldn’t put that in your Tinder bio.” I quipped, causing a few chuckles.

Steve looked at me.“And this is why we’re here today.”

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.“What?”

“You and Pietro are always at each other’s throats. It’s...well frankly, it’s exhausting listening to you two arguing all the time. And it could seriously put someone in danger whilst on a mission, even you two.”

“He always starts it-”

Pietro held up a finger.“Hold on, you do too-”

“You’re just proving his point guys.” Natasha spoke over us.

“As I was saying,” Steve brought the attention back to him,“the media has also caught onto this. There’s multiple images of you two clearly arguing, or even getting in each others way during the mission. At one point, you’re both trying to save the same person, but almost miss that chance because you’re so invested in being better than the other!”

Steve was really mad, and from everyone else’s faces, they thought the same thing.

“So until all of this changes, you two are suspended from any missions.”

“What?!” we both exclaimed.

“And you may not approach any other team member for assistance with training.”

“Why are we both being punished?” I demanded to know.

“Oh, do not play the victim here Mrs Incredible!” Pietro snapped.

“Mrs Incredible is super stretchy, it’s the daughter who has the same powers as me, you idiot!”

“See? You’re further showing me that I made the right decision. I felt bad at first, but now I know that this is the right direction to go in.” Steve raised his voice.“You’re both dismissed.”

“Well, what are the rest of you doing?” Pietro dared to ask.

“We are going to go over all the planning we have done for upcoming missions. Everything has to change because of you two. Now please go.”

I held it together as I left the room, not wanting to appear like a toddler stomping away in a tantrum. It was impossible to get away from Pietro, what with him being ‘the fastest man alive’, but I was going to try. I didn’t need another argument right now, I was upset, needed to be alone. Apparently, I wasn’t going to get that.

“Leave me alone.” I warned Pietro as he followed me.

“I can’t believe this! They’ve kicked us off the team because you always have to say something-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“And to think, they’re going to risk not having me on the team. I help them with everything, I’m a crucial part-”

“Pietro!” I shouted, spinning on my heel to face him. 

His eyes widened at that, glancing down to my clenched up fists, little electric sparks running over them, before looking me in my teary eyes. 

I sighed, relaxing my tense shoulders and hands before leaving. There was no point trying to explain. He wouldn’t understand. We would both get mad, probably fight, the team would have to break us up; I had no energy to do that. Slowly turning away, I was surprised by the silence that followed, Pietro didn’t even follow me. 

I checked the time on the lock screen of my phone, seeing that an hour had passed since I fled from Pietro. It also made me realise how dark the room had become, the sun would set in a few minutes. But I didn’t bother turning on any lights, instead leaning back again on the chair. I was sat in an empty lobby, it was a small room, facing the floor to ceiling window that showed the landscape that surrounded the headquarters. Besides just sitting here, I should have distracted myself. Perhaps put on a film, relax after training, something to take my mind off of things. Instead, I decided to sit with my thoughts.

“H-hey.” I heard Pietro quietly say from the doorway. 

Looking over my shoulder, I didn’t reply, facing the window again when he began walking towards me. He hesitantly turned on a lamp near us, sitting on the chair beside mine. Pietro also looked out of the window, clasping his hands together for a few seconds before fidgeting. I tried to ignore it, though after an hour of peace and nothingness, it became irritating quickly.

“Can you stop?” I blurted out.“Please?”

“Are you annoyed by everything I do?” he asked.

“Not...everything. I just...doesn’t matter, it’s not like you care anyway.”

“That’s not true.”

“I’m not falling for this Pietro.”

“Why are you saying my name?”

“What?”

“You never say my name. Actually, we never say each others names.”

“And why does that matter?”

“It just feels, it feels serious.”

“I mean, we’ve basically been kicked off the team, so yeah, it’s serious.”

“We’ve not been kicked off the team (Y/N).”

“We could be if we don’t get our act together.”

“It won’t go that far-”

“But it could! I can’t believe how calm you are about the whole thing.” I stood, distancing myself from him.“I’ve worked too hard for this. Imagine what would happen if word got out that I was disbanded from the Avengers because of a tiny argument, with a team member who is so narcissistic that he can’t put others before himself!”

I realised I had began ranting, stopping myself before I said anything else hurtful. But by the look of Pietro’s face, it was already too late.

“I...I’m sorry (Y/N).” he never broke eye contact.“And before you say anything, I mean it.”

“Pietro, I-”

“I can see how much this job means to you.”

“It’s my fault too. I always try to outdo you or challenge you.”

“No, don’t be humble.” he got out of his seat, standing in front of me.“It’s almost always my fault that we argue. And I hate myself for it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m usually very good with the ladies.” he grinned, though it disappeared when he realised it wasn’t time to joke.“But not around you apparently. It’s probably because you’re extremely strong and sure of yourself, and I go for a different type, the polar opposite to you.”

“Pietro, I...um...”

“I was really impressed by you when we first met. It made me nervous actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, all I can do is run really fast.”

“But, you’ve been on much more missions than I have. Doesn’t that say something?” I hung my head.

“Are you crazy? You’re not on those missions because they don’t need you.”

My head whipped up to see his smile drop.

“I didn’t mean it like that! I meant that those missions are for Avengers like me. The ones they can use over and over without worrying about them being too tired for the next one. What I’m trying to say is, you’re too important.”

“I never thought I would say this, but Pietro, you’re an important part of the team too. I always rose to your challenges because I felt I needed to prove something to the others. I was new, then I was accepted after all my relentless training, but when you and Wanda came along, I instantly became old news. And you didn’t even go through the rigorous regimes like I did, so I just assumed you were better than me.”

“It seems we were both wrong about each other. We were going through a lot of effort to outdo the other when we could have saved that energy for...well, anything else really.”

“Yeah. I suppose so.”

Pietro held his hand out.“Truce?”

I smiled up at him as I shook it.“Truce.”

A cheeky smirk appeared as he raised an eyebrow at me.“Let’s not tell the team about this just yet. I feel like there would be a lot of ‘I told you so’.”

“It’s like you read my mind.”

“And another thing.”

I noticed he was still holding my hand, though they were lowered now, and his grip wasn’t as firm.“Yes?”

“Can we start calling each other by our actual names?”

“I mean, I assumed we would anyway.”

“Oh, good. I just...”

“You just?”

“I just like the way it sounds when you say my name.”

[theinvisiblecapricorn]

Surprise, surprise.

Author's note: This is my first ever written one shot. The inspiration popped into my head during my shower. Please let me know what you think. Enjoy

Fluffy one shot.

Part 1.

// Introduction //

A little info about Y/N and Vinnie.

So, you guys met during the first Covid lockdown.

You weren’t really seeing anyone of your friends during this time because you didn’t feel like taking any risks. So the only way for you to interact with anyone, was via social media. Before lockdown you also kind of give up on the idea of finding a lover because the last time you gave it a shot it didn’t work out.

You remember one of your best friends told you ‘’ Once you start focusing on yourself, it’ll come to you. ‘’ Well, what better way to focus on yourself other than during quarantine?

That’s when Vinnie came into the picture.

After many failed attempts of having a normal conversation with serval people, the last thing Vinnie expected was to meet someone like you. A lot of the time people tried to take advantage of the fact that he was famous. They would post his personal info on social media and share their conversations for clout. Just like you, Vinnie was kind of over the idea of meeting someone who would like him for his personality instead of his name.

You guys instantly clicked. It felt like talking to someone you’ve known your entire life. There wasn’t a thing you couldn’t share with another. But because the two of you lived in different time zones you couldn’t talk as much as you’d like, but you made it manageable. There was only one problem; traveling was not an option due to Covid, so the two of you had never seen each other in real life.

Until now…

// End of introduction //

Alex (Warren) set up his camera to make a video.

He clicked on record and looked into the camera.

‘’ So as you guys know, Vinnie and Y/N met online in the beginning of Covid, but they’ve never officially seen each other in real life. Now that traveling is allowed again and Vinnie hasn’t been feeling himself lately, I thought it was a good idea to surprise him. I bought y/n a plan ticket so she can come over and hopefully cheer Vinnie up. And I will document the entire journey. ‘’

// Vinnie’s POV //

It’s noon. I lay on my bed, scrolling on my phone through TikTok. I haven’t heard from Y/N all day. Normally she would call me before going to bed herself, but she never did. I tried texting her but no reply.

Y/NNNN????

Yo bro, you there???

I miss your voiceeee

Please don’t be asleep already 

Pick up!!!!!! Or else I’m coming for you.

God, I wish I could just fly to wherever she was at and kiss her entire face. Because, yes, I am indeed in love with her, and she feels the same way about me. I just never thought I could recognize so much of myself in someone else. She’s the most kind, beautiful and loving person I know, and I can’t wait to hold her in my arms one day and never let go.

I’m starting to daydream about a life with y/n without the long distance, because it truly sucks. Then I hear a knock on the door and before I know it Alex comes rushing in with his camera in his hand.

( Vinnie & Alex )

‘’ Vinnie, say hello to everyone! ‘’

‘’ Hello everyone. Alex what do you want? ‘’

‘’ Why are you assuming I want something from you? ‘’

‘’ Because you only enter my room if you either have one of your crazy ideas to share or if you want me to get involved in something I probably shouldn’t get involved into. ‘’

‘’ Pfft, not true. My ideas aren’t crazy, they’re brilliant in their own way. ‘’

Alex grins at me. Suspiciously.

‘’ Anyways that’s not the point Vincent, I actually came in to see if you would join me to get some groceries because the only thing left are rise waffles and I’m starving. ‘’

Alex is blinking his eyes with the same grin he has had on from the moment he came into my room.

He’s not going to leave until I agree on coming. So before I know it, we’re on our way to the grocery store.

// Y/N’s POV //

I received a text from Alex a few weeks ago. He told me about his idea to surprise Vinnie. I couldn’t be more excited. Ever since Vinnie and I started talking I have pushed many of my personal boundaries. In a positive way. Vinnie has helped me regain trust in others and has showed me that love is real. I have lost my faith in love due to my previous experiences. That’s why the connection that I have with Vinnie is so important to me.

I have arrived at the airport as I turn on my phone. My phone starts to receive all the missed text messages and calls from Vinnie. I smile as I read through them.

‘’ Oh Vin, if only you knew ‘’ I think to myself.

I hear someone yelling my name behind me. As I turn around, I see Nailea running towards me.

Nailea is a close friend of Vinnie so of course she was the first to know about Vinnie’s contact with me. She’s been super kind to me, and I consider her as the sister I never had.

Nailea hugs me once she has approached me.

( Y/N & Nailea )

‘’ OH MY GOD. Girl, I am so happy that you’re finally hereeeee!!! ’’

I laugh as I see people around looking at us.

‘’ I am also very happy to be here. To finally meet everyone. For real. ‘’

‘’ Yea, now tell me, does my nose look bigger on the screen than in real life? ‘’

‘’ Hahaha, no Nai. You look fantastic on the screen and even better in real life. ‘’

Nailea and I take my stuff and walk out of the airport.

Once settled in the car, I receive a text from Alex:

We’re almost at the store. He hasn’t got a clue. See you there.

This is all a part of Alex his big plan. First, I will act like a regular costumer shopping at the same store as Vinnie and Alex. Then once they get back, Alex will distract Vinnie just a little longer, so he won’t notice me walking past the car right away. Brilliant.

// Vinnie’s POV //

Alex and I walk into the store.

‘’ Alright, what do we need? ‘’

‘’ Anything but rise waffles. ‘’

I shake my head, laughing, as I walk to the lemonade aisle.

Alex is taking out his camera and starts filming me from a far.

I start singing Paparazzi by Lady Gaga as I act like I'm hiding from him.

‘’ Oh, you should also take a few cans of coke. ‘’ Alex suggests.

As I walk towards the aisle with cans of lemonade, I notice a girl standing in front of it. Her hair instantly reminds me of Y/N. The exact same length, color and texture. Call me a simp, but I just pay a lot of attention to the girl I love. I slowly approach the girl before Alex attacks be by throwing a teddy bear on my head.

‘’ Hey, watch it! ‘’ I fix my hair.

‘’ Sorry man, I just know how much you like teddy bears. ‘’ Alex’s laughing out loud as he zooms in to my face.

I laugh, as I start to think back to the day Alex thought it would be funny to buy a giant teddy bear and have Patrick in it to scare me.

Just then, I notice the girl was gone. I didn’t see her anywhere else again.

After collecting all the stuff, we needed, we went home.

Once we arrived home, Alex stopped me before I opened my car door.

‘’ Let’s just sit here for a bit and talk about some stuff. ‘’ I stare at Alex with a confused look on my face.

‘’ Yea, because the viewers want to know, how are things going between you and Y/N? ‘’

I scratch the back of my neck and start feeling the heat take over my cheeks.

‘’ I mean, it’s hard sometimes. She’s one of the most important people in my life, yet I haven’t even met her in person. But I just know that once I do, that everything will naturally fall into it’s place. ‘’

Alex pouts as he listens to all the sweet things I have to say.

‘’ You really like her, don’t you? ‘’

‘’ I mean, yea I do. I really do. ‘’

‘’ Alright, so imagine her standing in front of you right now, what would you do? ‘’

I look at my hands as I start to imagine a situation like that.

‘’ Uh… If she was standing in front of me right now.. I would.. ‘’ My eyes scan a figure walking past the car and I couldn’t believe my eyes.

// Y/N’s POV //

Shit, I almost got caught. The plan was to go into the store, just to admire Vinnie from a far. I didn’t plan to stand in the exact aisle, where he needed to get something from. Luckily, Alex had a plan to distract Vinnie while I fled to the exit. Phew, that was close.

Alex texted me, saying they were on their way home. That’s when it hit me, I am going to be able to see, touch and kiss Vinnie for the first time ever. Nailea noticed my anxiety kicking in and she told me everything would be just fine.

It didn’t take long before Alex’s car pulled up on the driveway. Alex and Vinnie stayed in the car for a bit. My phone started buzzing as I read the notification: ‘’ Now!’’ That was my cue.

As nervous as one can be, I walked past the car with the person who’s the other half of my heart in it. I didn’t dare to look in his direction.

// Vinnie’s POV //

I couldn’t believe my eyes. This isn’t real right? Was I dreaming? I mean, I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night because I was worried sick due to Y/N not responding to me anymore.

I rub my eyes as I watch in the direction of the person again and there’s no way it couldn’t be her.

Then she turns her face into my direction and my heart starts pounding. There she is, the love of my life, the only person who can make my day just by popping up in my notifications, Y/N.

As I try to open my door, I hear Alex locking it.

‘’ Let me out! ‘’ I look at Alex as I try to unlock the door, but unable because he keeps his hand infront of the lock.

‘’ You haven’t answered my question yet. ‘’ Alex smirks at me, but I do not find it funny at all.

‘’ Please, let me out and I’ll show you what I would do if she were to stand in front of me ‘’

And with, I heard the door unlock. I jumped out of the car and ran as fast as I could to the person who I longed for the most.

Click here for part two;