#brand liaison

[brandliaison2023]

How do I Get WPC License in India?

A Wireless Planning and Coordination (WPC) license is essential for operating wireless devices and radio frequencies in India. This license is issued by the WPC Wing of the Ministry of Communications and is crucial for businesses and individuals who wish to use wireless communication equipment legally.

Here’s a step-by-step guide on how to obtain a WPC license in India:

Step 1: Determine the Type of License Required

There are different types of WPC licenses depending on the purpose and usage of the wireless equipment:

Equipment Type Approval (ETA): For importing and marketing wireless equipment.

Non-Dealer Possession License (NDPL): For personal use of wireless equipment.

Dealer Possession License (DPL): For dealing in wireless equipment.

Import License: For importing wireless equipment.

Step 2: Prepare Required Documentation

The necessary documents vary with the type of license but generally include:

Application form specific to the license type.

Technical specifications of the wireless equipment.

User manual and operational details.

Import license (if applicable).

Copy of the invoice and purchase order (for ETA).

Authorization letter from the manufacturer (if applying through an agent).

Step 3: Submit the Application

Applications can be submitted online through the Saral Sanchar portal (saralsanchar.gov.in). Ensure that all required documents are scanned and uploaded in the prescribed format.

Step 4: Pay the Application Fee

The fee structure varies based on the type of license and the equipment. Payment can be made online through the Saral Sanchar portal.

Step 5: Await Verification and Approval

The WPC office will review the application and may request additional information or clarification. Once verified, the license will be issued.

Step 6: Receive the License

After approval, the license will be sent to the applicant's registered address or made available for download from the portal.

Final Words

Navigating the complexities of obtaining a WPC license in India can be daunting, but with Brand Liaison, the process becomes seamless and efficient.

Brand Liaison specializes in assisting businesses and individuals in securing the necessary licenses to market and operate wireless products in India legally.

Leveraging our expertise and established relationships with regulatory bodies, we ensure a hassle-free experience, from documentation and application submission to follow-ups and final approval. By partnering with us, you can expedite the licensing process, allowing you to focus on your core business activities while ensuring full compliance with Indian wireless communication regulations.

[pineapple-split]

Oof - we’re really in it now. I have to word vomit my feelings out.

If you take this story as social commentary, this is the part where I feel like The Point is being made. All those weeks of setup have led us here. These letters over the past week are just a master class of failure to address literally anything.

Imagine if Volanges had simple sat down and talked to Cecile instead of shuttling her around the countryside and bringing in a third party to “keep her in line.” I think she loves Cecile in her way, but lord I have not seen a single bit of actual parenting from her this whole time! But that doesn’t seem like a thing that happens between mothers and daughters here. She’s a Woman of Society first and a mother second, it seems. (And to me that’s really representative of how relationships seem to work on a wider scale - very few seem to be genuine or rooted in anything at all beyond the current whims of the social contract. Built on shifting sands, etc)

Valmont and Merteuil are fairly self-explanatory in how they use people as their personal playthings. But it’s interesting that they conduct themselves as if this is all right and normal. This all grew out of some old slight to Merteuil and Valmont’s boredom, lives are in the process of being ruined, and the only indication we get of self-awareness is Merteuil’s insistence that there must not be proof. It’s fine to do these things, but to have them acknowledged out in the open is what’s ruinous. What would they say in the salons? Also I am banging my head against the wall that no one bothers to connect Valmont’s presence to the open misery of two women, one of whom literally flees and to whom Valmont’s aunt acknowledges that her nephew is at fault. Lady! The slightest bit of effort on your part please! I’ve gotten the impression that Valmont is a known rake, so….??????

Problem-solving seems to begin and end with “wring my hands and write a letter to a confidante about it”. Which - is fine as a beginning, you gotta let it all out, but then to return to business as usual? Knowing something is off? Wild. Valmont and Merteuil exemplify one brand of evil, but then there’s everyone else who just lets them get away with it. This is all just another upper class game after all, because these people are rich and bored and only pay attention to morals insomuch as it’s fashionable to toss out pithy quotes to make themselves look better.

I’ll be interested to come back to this after Le Shit Goes Down to see to what extent the rest of society frowns on these goings on because the actions are themselves wrong or if rather, the physical proof of them is embarrassing to everyone.

[dbleongrayblog]

My Generational Manuscript

What is the legacy you want to leave behind? I would love to create a legacy where improvements and happiness can prevail throughout the generations. I would love for this legacy to be structured in a way where happy and pleasurable traditions can be created. An adaptive legacy A non complacent but enjoyable one This legacy would be documented in writings and pictures Although not a pipe…

[anto-pops]

Sudsy Confessions - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: As the end of the school year continues to creep up on all of the seventh-year students, Sebastian has thought about what’s to come after graduation shamefully little. He’s equal parts annoyed and worried that he doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life, and he’s even more frustrated that he’s running out of time to tell you how he really feels about you. When a chance opportunity finally presents itself, Sebastian seizes the moment, even if the setting is a little… unorthodox.  

Alternatively summarized as Sebastian confessing his long-harbored love for you while you’re naked in a bathtub. 

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, love confessions, bathtub sex

Full fic can also be found here on Ao3 with more diverse tags :))

It was rare for Sebastian to get so bent out of shape over Quidditch. Especially since it had been an unofficial scrimmage between him and a handful of friends– which he had still won, mind— but it was the topic of discussion that had transpired after the actual event in The Three Broomsticks that had gotten him all hot and bothered, and there was no way around the truth of the matter. 

Garreth had brought up graduation. 

It was a topic that Sebastian had done his best to steer clear of since he had yet to formulate a plan for himself after Hogwarts. Apparently Weasley would be starting an apprenticeship with J. Pippins at his shop in Hogsmeade, which had warranted a few hesitant congratulations from the rest of his motley group. It was obvious that Leander and Imelda assumed the same thing Sebastian did; that Garreth would probably blow up the shop soon after starting. 

Then there was Imelda. Headstrong, resilient, and determined to prove herself. She fully intended on trying out for the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team after graduation and refused to believe she would do anything but succeed. There was no reason to doubt her at all– she’d always been masterful on her broom and had set new records left and right since Professor Black had reinstated Quidditch again. Sebastian only hoped that he was well out of sight in the event things didn’t go the way Imelda wanted them to. 

Leander had taken a bit of a sharp turn somewhere between the start of school and the present moment and apparently wanted to apply to work at the Ministry. Specifically, he’d been talking about joining the Council of Magical Law– evidently finding the power that would come with such a position all too appealing. Sebastian couldn’t help but think it was rather on brand for the Gryffindor to think as much, but his encouragement had been lukewarm all the same. 

Though he hadn’t joined them at The Three Broomsticks, it was already known that Ominis was also thinking about working for the Ministry, but with a different motive. He wanted to get more closely involved with the Muggle Liaison Office for reasons that continued to escape Sebastian. Whether it was to learn more about their differences to wizard-kind or to spite his family further, Sebastian didn’t know, but he was frankly inclined to believe the latter. 

Then there was you. The enigma, the mystery– the great unknown that had turned his entire world upside down from the moment you’d walked through the Great Hall doors two years ago. He had no clue what your plans were after graduation, and not knowing was slowly eating him alive. It had less to do with being kept out of the loop and more to do with his unspoken feelings for you– feelings that he had been keeping to himself for years now in a bid to keep his friendship with you unmarred. After your tumultuous fifth-year, it had understandably taken some time for the two of you to get back to any semblance of normalcy, and now that graduation was approaching, he couldn’t help but feel like time was slipping through his fingers. 

Sebastian’s previously upbeat demeanor had darkened considerably after that conversation, leading him to bail entirely on drinks at the pub in favor of returning to Hogwarts to wallow in self-pity. 

He’d moved in absolute silence following his return, a metaphorical rain cloud looming over his head as he’d gone to his dorm to grab his toiletries and a change of clothes before setting off for the Prefect’s bathroom. Friday nights were notoriously quiet now that everyone’s N.E.W.T’s had been completed, and Sebastian relished in the solitude that he always found in the spacious washroom. Sneaking in and using it was well worth the risk if it spared him from more idle conversations with his fellow classmates. 

It wasn’t unusual for the door to be locked– due in large part to the fact that it always was– so he undid the latch with his wand and shouldered the door open, barreling into the humid space with the grace of a hurricane. He tossed his items down on the countertop beside the sink and ripped his toothbrush out of his bag, shoving it in-between his lips as he turned the faucet on and rifled around for his bath soaps. Disappointment clouded his mind as his thoughts wandered back to you and the unknown future. It wouldn’t take much more than courage and a slim chance for Sebastian to get his feelings for you off his chest, but his fear of rejection kept him rooted in place. He was certain that at this point, it always would. 

“Keep running the water like that and you’ll drain the entire lake,” a familiar voice said from somewhere behind him. Sebastian damn near choked himself with his toothbrush as he whirled around to face the culprit, and then he found himself on the verge of fainting when he realized it was you. 

You were lounging in the massive tub with a smile on your face, not at all bothered by Sebastian’s sudden intrusion. Your hair was pinned up off of your bare shoulders in a messy heap, and the brunet stood no chance at concealing his blatant double take when he caught sight of your wet skin. The bulk of your naked body was covered by the scant spread of bubbles, but the tantalizing view of your collarbones had a flush rapidly spreading across his cheeks. 

“I– shit– I’m so sorry, I didn’t think anyone was in here,” Sebastian frantically mumbled around his mouthful of toothbrush. Dammit, he sounded like a fool. He ripped the thin stick from his mouth and spun back around to shut off the faucet and hastily gather his belongings from the counter. 

“You didn’t really knock to find out, but it’s fine. Don’t rush off on my account.” 

Your nonchalant tone made him pause, and he hesitantly lifted his head to stare at your reflection in the mirror. True to your words, you seemed wholly unbothered by his presence, simply continuing to bask in the warmth of the water as the steam wafted up into your face.

There wasn’t a chance in hell he could have anticipated something like this happening. 

Almost reluctantly, Sebastian dropped his towel back onto the countertop, instead picking up the paste for his toothbrush before setting to work brushing his teeth. He watched through the mirror as you raked your wet fingers through the free strands of hair that had fallen in front of your face, and the sound of the disturbed water dripping down your arms echoed through the space. “Did you win your scrimmage?” Your eyes never wavered from his in the reflection, and he nodded. “Go out for drinks afterwards?” Another nod, switching to brush the other side of his mouth. “Ominis and Garreth?” Sebastian shook his head. “What, Garreth and Leander?”

He mumbled around a mouthful of foam, “An’ Imelda.”

Your expression pinched into one of confusion as you mused, “I thought you didn’t like drinking with Leander.” Sebastian only shrugged in vague response before bending forward to spit and rinse, trying incredibly hard to not think about how very naked and wet you were presently. He was unsuccessful. 

 For a brief moment, Sebastian debated on changing into his pajamas and leaving despite having come to bathe, but something possessed him to turn around and contemplate you after he turned off the faucet. The easy smile on your face and your half hooded eyes almost knocked him out, and he swallowed thickly. 

What was it he had thought to himself just moments earlier? Courage and a slim chance? Was this not exactly that? 

“Hey,” he muttered softly, his voice almost a whisper. “What are your plans after graduation?” 

You tilted your head to the side in visible confusion, a strand of hair falling in front of your eyes seductively from the movement. He tried not to stare too hard. “Plans?” 

“What will you do once it’s time to leave? You haven’t said anything to me about it– or Ominis,” he added quickly. “We were talking about it in Hogsmeade earlier, so I was just wondering.” 

You seemed to ponder his question for a minute, your wandering hands coming to a sudden halt in the mass of bubbles. Truthfully, you hadn’t brought it up to either of the Slytherin men because you hadn’t come to a final decision yet, but it made sense that with the completion of your N.E.W.T’s, people would begin planning their post-Hogwarts lives. The thought made you equal parts sad and nervous. 

“I thought about getting a job at first… to make a name for myself and save money, you know? But honestly, I think I might travel. I’ve explored virtually all of the Highlands for ancient magic sites and I think I’ve hit a dead end. I want to learn more about Isidora’s magic– the power from the Repository is still as much of an unknown now as it was two years ago. It’s just collecting dust inside of me at this point.” 

Sebastian gave you a nonplussed blink and did his damndest not to sound paranoid when he responded. “Travel? Where exactly were you thinking?” 

You shrugged and averted your gaze to the bubbles in front of you. Of course Sebastian would be displeased to discover that yet another person from his life would be departing it so soon. It was part of the reason you’d been keeping your intentions to yourself for so long. Nonetheless, you answered softly, “Maybe to Poland. Isidora’s notes mentioned that she originally hailed from there–”

“Poland?” Sebastian’s frantic voice cut you off, and he found his legs carrying him to the edge of the bathtub to kneel there and bore holes in the top of your head from across the water. “You would go that far to chase after a maybe? You don’t know for certain if looking out there will even bring you any new information– it sounds incredibly reckless.”

You fixed him with a hard, telling look. “That’s rich, coming from you. Who was it that refused to let up in his search for a cure for all of fifth-year?”

His brows slammed down atop his narrowed eyes, “That was different.” 

“How is it any different?” You sounded exasperated, and he sighed indignantly. “You wanted answers, and you never stopped looking for them. You had nothing to go off of, much like myself presently, and you were willing to do anything if it meant saving Anne. I want to use this power for something good, Sebastian. I can’t do that if I don’t know how it works. Leaving is the only plausible outcome for me.”

“It would be that easy for you, then? To leave and disappear for who knows how long searching for who knows what? Would you have even told me if I hadn’t asked just now?” 

It would be that easy for you to leave me, is what he really wasn’t saying. 

You shook your head at him, completely bewildered that he was so affected by your revelation. “Eventually, yes, I would have. I don’t understand– why do you care so much? You of all people should know I would keep in touch; I’ll send owls every week, keep you updated on where I am and what happens. Going our separate ways was practically always in the cards, Sebastian.” 

Some tiny, annoying part of him had always known that. Living at Hogwarts was a blissful reprieve from the real world, offering himself and other students a sanctuary from the concerns and problems of adult life. Hearing you voice your thoughts was a completely different thing, however, and Sebastian was woefully unprepared for the dawning realization that he wouldn’t be able to see you anymore.

He silently cursed himself for having taken this fucking long to accept how empty he would feel without you beside him. 

“Sebastian,” you whispered from across the tub, and his eyes slid shut at the sound of your gentle voice. It hurt too much to fathom not getting to hear it again, or not being able to see you and crack stupid jokes with you in the middle of Potion’s class. He wouldn’t get to duel other students with you in Crossed Wands, or go to Hogsmeade to drink Butterbeers and stop by the lake on your walks back to skip rocks. All of it would end, and he would be alone. 

Again.

“Sebastian,” you said again, and the closer proximity of your voice had him cracking his eyes open. You were directly in front of him now, evidently having left your spot on the other side of the bath to siddle directly up to the ledge in front of him. Your wide eyes gazed imploringly up at him, and your grip on the edge of the tub was white-knuckled. “Why do you care so much?” 

“How could I not care?” He forced the words out while he still had the courage, seemingly gazing into the depths of your very soul as he stared down at you. His words had your eyes widening further as a flush crept up your neck onto your cheeks, and before you got the chance to say anything, Sebastian was leaning down to capture your lips in a desperate kiss. 

A surprised squeak weaseled its way from your throat as he lifted his hands to cradle your head cautiously, and you weakly curled your fingers around his wrists as he dipped lower to accommodate for the awkward angle. Sebastian kissed you hungrily and passionately– in the way he had dreamed of doing for years. He licked along your lower lip and bit gently at it, pulling a gasp from your parted lips before one of your hands came to rest on his bent knee, leaving a wet handprint behind in its wake. 

After a few heated moments, Sebastian broke away to look at you through his lashes, more surprised than anything to discover that your face was an open book; a mixture of shock and hesitance was etched into your features while something much hotter burned in your eyes, making his head fucking spin. 

“Sebastian, I– ah…” 

He let you go and sat back on his heels then, crossing his arms over his knees and resting his chin on his forearms as he peered at you nervously. There were a thousand different things Sebastian wanted to blurt out, but he settled for staying quiet as he waited for you to say something– anything.

You gaped up at him for a moment, blinking slowly as the flush across your cheeks darkened considerably. “How long?” 

He shrugged timidly before he said, “Ages. Since fifth-year, if I’m being honest.” 

“You didn’t… say anything?” His curly brown locs brushed across his forehead as he shook his head. “Why?” 

“After everything that happened in the Catacombs, I was terrified of fucking things up again. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship– I wouldn’t have been able to handle it. So I just… kept my feelings to myself. But now you’re telling me you would leave– that it was always inevitable things would end this way– and I can’t accept that. I refuse to.” 

You didn’t know what to say. Your mind was reeling from Sebastian’s revelation, and your heart was hammering away in your chest so loudly that you were certain he could hear it. Of course you felt the exact same way, but much like Sebastian you’d been worried about ruining things or complicating your already tentative relationship– especially after the events of your fifth-year. But now here he was– on his damn knees confessing to you– and your thoughts of the future vanished completely from your mind. 

Biting your lip, you stared up at Sebastian for a moment with wide eyes. One of your hands rose off the edge of the tub to trail your wet fingers across his cheek, and as Sebastian’s freckled face moved away from his arm to swim clearly into view, you stood straight out of the water invitingly and let him wrap his strong arms around your bare waist. As the water beading over your skin soaked through Sebastian’s shirt, his eyes flickered between yours, searching for the hesitance he’d seen there before. 

It was nowhere to be found.

When your lips met with his again, the softness had left them, and the two of you kissed one another hard and needily. Sebastian straightened and nipped at your lips, smiling against your mouth as you melted into him, and your breath caught somewhere in your throat when his tongue slipped into your open mouth to tangle with your own. Holding you tighter, Sebastian trailed his hands over your slick skin– traversing up your spine and into your unruly hair to tangle his fingers in the strands at the nape of your neck. He kissed you desperately, moaning softly into your mouth when he felt your hands sweep across his shoulders to fumble with the buttons at the front of his shirt. 

You’d made it about halfway down the row of clasps before Sebastian grew impatient, freeing one of his hands to deftly undo the buttons with a practiced finesse that made your mouth water eagerly. He panted along the curve of your jaw as he undressed, biting and sucking at the skin of your throat until he was pulling away to shrug the damp material off of his shoulders. His tie was still snug around his neck, clamping the collar of his button-up in place, and he growled as he loosened the thin bit of fabric before yanking it over his head and diving back into the kiss like he’d been starved of your very essence. 

Until now the bizarre angle had proved to be a non-issue– but then the pressing matter of his trousers came to light, and you felt as Sebastian blindly palmed at his belt buckle in a bid to undo it. “Need help?” Your coy offer whispered against his lips sent shivers up his spine, but he was too frantic and greedy to give you the chance to assist.

Those toned, capable arms released you so he could stand fully, his lust-dark eyes never wavering from yours as he finally succeeded in unlooping his belt from around his waist. “Just don’t move and keep watching like that– it’s helping me plenty.” 

You flashed him a mocking pout but did as he asked, settling back into the water and scanning his body longingly as he stripped down to his briefs. He teasingly ran his thumbs under the waistband of his undergarments and shot you a smug look, all too pleased with the way you licked your lips when he eventually began slipping the attire down the delectable ‘V’ of his hips. The sight of Sebastian biting his lip as his cock sprung free and arched proudly against his toned stomach had you halting your movements, though, and you audibly whimpered before the brunet threw his briefs over his shoulder and descended into the soapy water with you. 

In a flash he had you back within reach, his hands coming to cup your rear as he silently prompted you to jump into his arms so he could carry you through the water towards the rim of the massive tub. Your back bumped against the tiles there, and Sebastian took full advantage by pressing himself into you more firmly. The hard, stiff length of him rubbed tantalizingly against your folds, and you sighed contentedly before his mouth was on yours once more. 

The two of you languidly kissed for what seemed like forever, and you were more than willing to continue for as long as Sebastian saw fit. When one of the hands he had against your rear began to slip lower into uncharted territory, you smiled against his lips and huffed out an airy laugh. “Eager, are you?” 

“Shut up,” Sebastian murmured against your mouth, holding fast to your bottom harder and with greater fervor. “You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of this.” 

You arched your hips against Sebastian’s and drew in a shaky breath at the sensation of his shaft grazing over a particularly sensitive spot. “Then show me,” you implored. 

Growling again, Sebastian wrangled you around until you were kneeling on the ledge with your back to him and your hands braced on the rim of the bathtub. His hands were seemingly everywhere; sliding down your shoulder blades, scratching at the curve of your waist, then ghosting down the backs of your thighs as he nudged your legs apart further. You felt as he leaned forward to press a chaste kiss against the outline of your spine, and there wasn’t a chance in hell you could smother the shudder of delight that coursed through you. Sebastian moved on swiftly, though, and began pressing messy, open-mouthed kisses against your lower back, curling his hands around your hips before you felt him descend closer to your nether region. In your current position, it was just barely peeking above the thin layer of bubbles within the tub, and you heard the water slosh around Sebastian as he dropped to his knees and came face to face with your most intimate parts. 

The broad slick of Sebastian’s tongue sliding through your folds pulled a startled gasp from your lips, and your forehead fell against the tile with a soft, stuttered moan. The feeling of him tasting you– achingly and deliberately slow– had you shaking in earnest as you bit your knuckle for a semblance of control. You were struggling against the urge to rock back into his ministrations, eventually settling for reaching between your spread legs with your free hand to rub at your clit for some added reprieve, but then Sebastian slid his palms from your hips to your inner thighs to nudge your hand away. 

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered to you, and you mewled softly before tucking your hand against your chest and nodding. “Don’t hold back, either. I want to hear you.”

You were on the verge of responding, but the way Sebastian slid his tongue over you again drove whatever words you’d formulated straight out of your head. His hands ghosted along your skin as he lowered himself further, the tops of his shoulders completely submerging beneath the soapy water, and he took care to trail his fingers slowly down the sensitive skin of your inner thighs as he made himself comfortable behind you. 

Sebastian laved his tongue over you gently and encouragingly, then experimentally stiffened the muscle before poking it inside of you, leaving you whining and gasping his name. The brunet pushed his tongue in deeper then, moaning in response to the hitch in your voice as he pressed his lips against your folds and fucked the muscle into you slowly. 

“Gods, S-Sebastian–”

The man in question sighed and picked up his pace, flicking his tongue into you and dropping messy kisses against you. One of his hands slid up to your clit, brushing two of his fingers over the bundle of nerves with a moan, and when he leaned in hard to fuck his tongue as deep as possible into you, your high, airy whimpers made Sebastian’s head spin. 

With one last pump of his tongue, Sebastian pulled away, grinning at the way you twitched in response to his efforts. You heard the water stir and felt the warm, wet weight of the Slytherin drape over your back as he leaned forward to kiss across your shoulder, his hands running soothingly up the sides of your waist. 

“Fuck,” Sebastian breathed out, prompting you to turn and look at him over your shoulder. Your half-hooded eyes and parted lips sparked something in him then, and when you reached back to tangle your fingers in his hair, the brunet leaned in to meet you gladly. You moaned into the kiss, drawing a like-minded sound from Sebastian when you ground your hips back against his throbbing member. His thick hands gripped at your waist tightly as he gasped against your mouth, a desire unlike any he’d ever experienced overtaking him in a matter of seconds. The urge to feel you encasing him was overwhelming– enough so that for one brief moment, Sebastian allowed himself to press so hard against you that it stole your breath and smothered your senses. 

“Sebastian,” you groaned from beneath him. Your gaze sought him out, but his own eyes were pinched shut as he relished in the ecstasy that fell over him from merely grinding against you. It wasn’t simply the act itself that was doing it for him. It was knowing that he was doing it with you. Everything he had craved for two whole years was finally coming to fruition, and despite wanting to relish in every second of it with you, Sebastian was losing himself to his impulses. You called to him again, “Sebastian, please.” 

His chocolate brown eyes cracked open at the sound of your voice coupled with your incessant tugging on his hair, and his shaky sigh told you everything you needed to know; he was incredibly eager. 

“S-Sorry,” he stammered out, swallowing thickly in a way that drew your attention to his bobbing adam’s apple. You merely shook your head in silent dismissal, then rocked back against him to spur him into motion. If it was guidance he needed, you were more than happy to provide it. “I don’t know how much longer I can draw this out,” he admitted with a low voice, and as though to punctuate the statement, you felt his fingers dig into the skin of your hips to prevent you from moving against him any further. 

“Then don’t,” you insisted needily, yanking lightly on his hair once more to goad him into moving. “I’m ready if you are.”

“If it’s all the same to you,” Sebastian murmured, his voice gravelly and directly against the shell of your ear. “I’ll be the judge of that.” 

You shivered in anticipation when you felt one of his hands trail down the swell of your rear to probe at your slick entrance with one of his fingers. His other hand traced soothing circles against lower back, relaxing you further until you had melted against the rim of the tub with your neck craned to the side to watch Sebastian as he worked. 

When he sank one of his fingers into you slowly, you let loose a shaky exhale and felt a flush creep up your neck and onto your cheeks, leaving Sebastian biting his lip at the wanton image you made as he pressed the digit knuckle deep. Thrusting slowly, he eventually managed to work a second finger into you, trying not to think too hard about the way you looked spread around him, or the way you moved back against him, or how fucking wet you were. 

“Sebastian,” you groaned. His eyes flicked back up to yours, entirely certain that he looked just as fucking needy as you did– especially given the way you shivered and rode back against his hand a little harder. “C-Curl your fingers down a little–” he did so, and was instantly rewarded with a telling jolt from you. “Oh fuck– there–” 

The sound of Sebastian moaning to himself was almost lost in the way you were gasping and keening, and he moved his hand from your back to your hip to hold you in place as he followed the same path you’d instructed him to with his fingers. He thrusted a little harder, curling his digits against your sweet spot, and the way you arched your back and spread your thighs as far as you could without slipping while you gasped for Sebastian was fucking intoxicating. 

It was too much. 

Sebastian pulled his fingers free and reached towards you without a second thought, coiling his arm around your waist as he leaned in to kiss you again. You couldn’t help but whine at the way his cock rubbed against you, and you were near boneless in the brunet’s arms as his lips molded to yours and his tongue delved into your mouth. His strong arm held you fast to him as the other braced against the rim of the tub, holding him steady above you as he kissed you senseless. When he finally broke away to catch his breath, you practically sagged into the water beneath him. 

“Merlin, Sebastian…” 

“Are you okay?” The Slytherin’s voice was rough when he asked, low and raspy with arousal, and once you gave your enthusiastic approval, Sebastian reached between the two of you to line himself up before pressing into you. 

Sebastian’s eyes squeezed shut at how you felt around him; tight, hot, and utterly incredible. He just barely managed to keep his composure as he slowly filled you, and your scarcely stifled gasps and keening whimpers were decidedly not helping him keep his wits about him. Every fiber of Sebastian’s being urged him to ram his cock into you– to fuck your brains out and hear his name spill from your lips in breathless screams. When he finally did sheathe himself all the way inside of you, he melted against your back, holding you tightly and whispering your name against your ear over and over again. 

“Fuck, you’re…” you trailed off, subtly shaking against Sebastian’s damp skin. “You’re b-big.”

“Gods, darling,” Sebastian breathed, exhaling roughly into the nape of your neck. “Can I move?” 

You gave a stuttered assent, but you were still insanely tight around his cock, so for both your sakes when Sebastian pulled back a little and rolled his hips back in, he did so slowly in a bid to test the waters. 

No pun intended.

Your choked moan was more than enough of an answer for him, so he worked to set a slow, deep rhythm, buying himself time to get used to the heat wrapped around his cock. The gentle sigh that emanated from you coupled with the way your back bowed ever so slightly told Sebastian that his restraint was appreciated. But then you were glancing back at him from over your shoulder, and the rosy flush that colored your cheeks combined with your glazed over eyes nullified the majority of his self-control. 

Sebastian blindly trusted you to keep steady on your knees as he gripped your hips to thrust into you harder, moving faster and giving gasping moans as you tensed and groaned, squeezing him in the most perfect way. He pulled you back onto his cock, adjusting his hips so he could fuck into your sweet spot, and the way you arched under him and cried out was fucking amazing. 

“Oh f-fuck, Sebastian,” you moaned, reaching back to tangle your hand in his damp, brown curls, and Sebastian let you tug him closer so he could mouth along your shoulder, tasting the sweet-smelling bathsoaps as he went. The water splashed around you both, and you swore softly as a small wave of sudsy water sloshed up the side of the tub and sprayed you in your face. 

Taking note of your predicament, Sebastian slowed his movements and angled his head so he could murmur directly in your ear, “Do you want to move?” 

“We could, but– damn, Sebastian–”

Sebastian didn’t want to fucking move. He did want to see your face, though. He pulled out swiftly, and before you could move to climb out of the water, he grabbed and maneuvered you around so your back was pressed against the side of the tub with your legs bent over his elbows. When he reached back further to grip the rim of the tub on either side of you, he sank back into you with a low moan. Water wasn’t the most spectacular of lubricants as it turned out, but you were naturally slick enough that it was essentially a nonissue.

The expression that spread over your flushed face drove Sebastian a little crazy. He moved hot and slow, pulling back far with every aching thrust before filling you up and making you whimper. It’s exactly what Sebastian had wanted, but the way your eyes rolled shut just made him want to fuck you harder, water splashing in your face be damned. 

He leaned in close and nipped at your swollen lips, still rolling his hips maddeningly slow. “I want to fuck you so hard,” he managed, voice shaking. “I want to hear you scream my name. I want to see you fall over the edge so hard that you pass out in my arms.” He snapped his hips, just enough to make you cry out. “I’ll fuck you just like that. I’ll make the Prefects come running from how loud you are. I hope you don’t have plans this weekend, because you’re mine until the bell tolls on Monday.”

You whimpered and shivered under Sebastian, sucking in sharp breaths with every slow thrust, and when you rode your hips back into the brunet, he couldn’t help but let his head hang between his shoulders, his dark eyes sliding shut. The way you were sucking him in deeper was mind-blowing, the water flowing in waves around the two of you, until a burning, tightening sensation took root in your gut and made you grit your teeth together in anticipation. 

“S-Sebastian, fuck,” he thrust harder in response, grinding his hips into you and causing your back to arch with a gasping cry. “Sebastian, I’m– I’m going to–”

“Do it,” he gasped, leaning in to kiss you quickly and messily. “Let me see how you come for me.” 

Your nails dug into his shoulder before you pulled one hand away to begin frantically rubbing circles over your swollen clit. You rocked your hips back into his and worked yourself closer to your finish with a low moan, keeping your movements in time with his thrusts. The way you licked your lips and the way you watched Sebastian with a dark, fucked-out gaze made him whimper. You were so intense– your lips parting on gasping moans of Sebastian’s name– and it took a surprising amount of self-control for him to not just fucking blow it right then. Instead, he bent you back just a little further, just enough to see that needy expression fall back over your face as he fucked you just that little bit harder. 

Your moans grew higher, louder, breathier, until you were crying out and shaking in Sebastian’s arms. “S-Seb– fuck– I’m coming, I’m coming–” 

Your spine rounded and your eyes squeezed shut as you clamped down tight on Sebastian’s cock, a guttural whine ripping from your heaving chest as your climax washed over you. The dexterous movements from your fingers took you higher than you thought possible, and the way you barely managed to choke out Sebastian’s name was enough to send the Slytherin over the edge. 

He pressed himself against you and buried his cock deep, fucking you through your finish with short, fast thrusts while he moaned your name against your throat, his hands moving to grip your sides tight with trembling fingers. “Fuck, darling, fuck–”

Blearily, you moved your arm and wrapped it around Sebastian’s neck as he came, who was shaking and babbling far too loud for it to be muffled against your slick skin. You buried your face into his tangled hair, jolting slightly from every miniscule movement of his twitching member inside of you. When the bulk of his post-coital high had subsided, he began wetly mouthing up your neck and along your jaw before sweetly peppering kisses over your cheek. The demonstration brought a breathless grin to your face, and your hands found their way to the hair at the back of his neck before you wound your fingers through the strands. 

“Merlin’s bloody balls,” Sebastian gritted out, sliding his arms out from under your knees to hold them fast to his waist. You followed his lead easily and wrapped your legs around his hips, sitting up to kiss him contentedly as your palms skimmed along his freckled back. He smiled against your lips and murmured, “We should probably get out. I can feel how pruney your fingers are.” 

“Mm,” you hummed softly, pulling back from the kiss to hold one of your hands up to see how wrinkled your skin had become in the throes of passion. “You’re not wrong. But it would be counterproductive to not wash off all the sweat, wouldn’t it?” 

Sebastian gave you a nonplussed blink before smiling brightly at you in agreement. Almost reluctantly, he slid free from your welcoming heat and deposited you on the shallow stone ledge, then hoisted himself out of the bath to pad over to his toiletry bag. After grabbing all the necessities and jumping back into the steaming water, the two of you took your time cleansing one another, lingering touches and thoughtful kisses being exchanged throughout the process. Eventually Sebatian found himself sitting with his back to the rim of the tub, your smaller figure situated comfortably between his legs as he scooped water into his hands and let it run over your shoulders. If your slouched posture was anything to go by, you were incredibly relaxed, and Sebastian realized dimly that he was too. To be with you in this way was everything he could ever want and more, and he didn’t want it to end. Not by a longshot. 

“Let me come with you after graduation,” he said suddenly, his voice a mere whisper from behind you. 

Your eyes fluttered open as you processed his request, the bathroom utterly silent except for the distant dripping of water from the faucet, and before long you were turning around to face him with your hands braced on his legs. “What?” 

“Let me come with you,” he said again, conviction burning in his dark eyes. “To Poland. I want to do whatever I can to help you. Please don’t leave me behind.” 

All you could do was blink for a moment before opening and closing your mouth in surprise. Sebastian’s unwavering gaze only prolonged the formation of words, until eventually you furrowed your brow and uncertainty took root. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him with you– far from it, in fact. The events that had transpired just minutes earlier had only proven that your close relationship was something to treasure for as long as possible, and you were more than ready to do exactly that. You just didn’t want him to throw his own ambitions to the side simply because you planned to travel. “What about what you want to do? Don’t you have your own plans? I thought Professor Weasley talked to you about–” 

“I never made a decision,” he stated firmly and with a shake of his head. “The Professor had her own ideas about what I would excel at, but I never agreed or wanted to pursue any of her suggestions. I honestly felt like I was in limbo until now. My point is, what I want is to stay with you. I want to help you the same way you helped me with Anne, and I really, really don’t want to end up sitting alone in some office in London waiting for your owls to reach me. There’s always something missing when you’re not with me.”

To say you were an emotional mess would be a monumental understatement. Sebastian’s words struck something deep within you, something sentimental and desperate to come to the surface. He evidently saw your tears before you felt them, because he was instantly sitting forward to cup your cheeks in his wet hands before wiping them away with his thumbs. The concern on his face was apparent, but you were already smiling reassuringly at him before he could verbally ask if you were alright. “You really know how to confess to a girl, huh?” 

He let loose an airy, relieved laugh that drifted over your nose and chilled your damp cheeks, and you wrapped your fingers around his wrists as he smiled anxiously at you. “I had a long time to practice. Is that a yes, then?” 

“Yes, you can come with me. I would love it if you did,” you said, and the giddy excitement that radiated from the man was the most palpable thing in the room at that moment. “Two heads might be better than one, after all.”

Sebastian was on you in an instant. He coiled around you like a baby mooncalf and smiled so brightly that it easily rivaled the intensity of the sun. Water splashed everywhere as he spun you effortlessly within the bath, your capricious laughter reverberating off the walls of the spacious room as elation flooded your system. Being encased in his warm embrace was all the confirmation you needed that you had made the right choice. In turn, knowing that his future was all the clearer brought a sense of peace and belonging to Sebastian that he would hold on to for as long as he was able. 

It just so happened that presently, he was holding on to you. 

[reiderwriter]

Dirty Cops

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: With a dirty cop killing women in the BDSM community running loose you and Spencer have to devise an equally dirty plan to catch him in the act.

Warnings: Kintober Day 22 - S&M, BDSM themes, public sex, oral sex, exhibitionism, bathroom sex, interrupted sex (both of them are cockblocked by the job).

A/N: I'M BACK! Sorry for the delay. This is the fic that has been beating my ass for about two weeks now. I fear I put too much detail into the case, and now I'm 6k words deep into a part one of a fic that should've been a 3k standalone.... oops! I hope you enjoy~

You sat in your office hands on your forehead as you desperately searched for the solution to your problems. 12 women, 12 homicides that VICAP had just spotted were easily similar. All in the same jurisdiction, and yet no connections made by their police force.

Something was going on in Tampa, and you needed to get to the bottom of it before another person died. 

You supposed it didn't really help that some of the women had died in some pretty unorthodox ways. Strangulation, blunt force trauma, evidence of rope burns, and having been held hostage but not for long. Things your team was familiar with, but local detectives usually couldn't stomach.

As the BAU's brand new liaison officer, you got the job of convincing the local law enforcement to invite you in. They certainly weren't making it easy for you. 

"Listen, I'm telling you there's something here, sir, if you'd just check the case files. We're only trying to help."

"You're trying to stick your nose in my departments business because you think your fancy FBI agents can handle my cases better than me." 

"Sir, with all due respect -" 

"Fine, you think you can come find whoever whacked these street whores you come and do it." You took in a sharp breath and paused, trying to make sure if you were hearing him correctly. 

"What do you mean by whores, Captain? Choose your words very carefully." The warning was a bonus, knowing your voice had already done such a 180 he was probably regretting his previous word choices. As far as you knew none of the victims were wex workers. They mainly had office jobs or were even stay ah hone mom's.

"Each and every one of these women were jezebel's. Cheating, doing dirty things while showing their faces in church. They attended a certain establishment, not a Christian one, if you understand what I'm telling you, Miss." 

"It's Agent, actually, and if you ever leave these details out of a case file ever again, I'll make sure to have your badge pinned up on my wall like a hunting trophy. Are we clear, Captain?" He stuttered out a yes, but you cut him off quickly. 

"My team and I will arrive later today. Expect us for lunch." You said, slamming the receiver down and finally releasing a huff of breath you'd been saying for emergencies. 

A whistle from the door finally draws your attention after a few minutes. 

"Okay, Y/N," JJ clapped, looking impressed. "Who pissed you off?" 

"Just the Captain at the precinct who just very politely invited us to consult on our next case." You threw the file in her direction as she set down the coffee she'd bought you, picking it up to peruse it. "Where's Hotch? I need to tell him we've got to go now before they change their minds." 

"You know you want to say it," she teased as you began walking out of the office to find your elusive boss. 

"Ha. Sure. Wheels up in 30, Jennifer." She raised her coffee in a salute to you as you finally took off, getting ready to go to war against an unhelpful police precinct. 

–X– 

With all the time you don't have, you end up briefing the team on the jet. You have to stand and grab the edge of the table as you try not to pace up and down the aisle. 

"Twelve victims, all women between the ages of 20 to 28. He's crossing race lines, so I don't think they're placeholders." In all honesty, this case had pissed you off. 

Twelve dead women and no one seemed to care until you phoned the department up yourself when VICAP flagged it all with you. Half of the cases had been closed for lack of evidence, and the other half so poorly investigated that you knew it was only a matter of time before they got boxed up and shelved too. 

"The general public in Zephyrhills doesn't even know they have a serial killer. No one is being told to exert caution. There's no local press on this either." 

"It says that these women were all killed, but there's no viable DNA they could pick up?" Morgan asks, looking up at you. 

"That's right, no DNA evidence can be lifted, but spermicide was found on three of the victims." 

"So our unsub was wearing a condom. He came prepared, and we were dealing with a serial rapist who has bridged into murdering his victims." 

"There was no spermicide found on the other nine victims?" Emily looks up at you from her place at the small table. 

"No. Rape test kits weren't run on any of the other victims because, quote: 'it was pretty obvious what had happened.' The precinct waited too long to collect the DNA evidence  and now we don't have enough to locate, let alone prosecute an unsub based on DNA."

The whole team shared in your stressed look then, sending you matching sympathetic glances as they suddenly understood the herculean task you'd taken on trying to convince the locals to invite you in. 

Not noticing the awkward silence that fell on the group, Spencer spoke up quickly from his place, standing beside you. 

"You know, Zephyrhills is only about an hour away from Tampa. Tampa is the number one hook up spot in the US. It's residents boast on average 14 orgasms a month instead of the nationwide average of 12.5." He seemed pleased with the knowledge he'd just let everyone in on, as you looked back on him.

"Right. So our guy is trying to get his rocks off to out gun the rest of the country. Thanks, Spencer." 

"It's relevant. It's says in the casefile here that three of our victims were last spotted on the highway making their way to Tampa, but then their bodies were found dumped in Zephyrhills. What if he's following them?"

"Spencer has a point, but if he's following them, what gets them to turn around? The cars were found abandoned in Zephyrhills, too, none of these women made it to Tampa." Hotch adds, and you make eye contact with him as your next thought comes to you. 

"What could get someone to stop on a highway?" You ask, the question so simple, every single one of them knew the answer before you'd even finished asking.

"A cop." JJ filled in, and you all sat silently as you realised how dangerous this next case could truly be. 

"We're about an hour out from arrival, everyone get some rest for now, I'm going to make a call to the nearest FBI Field Office, see if any of this is on their radar."

You slunked back to your seat at the back of the jet and sat down again, trying to get comfy but ending up just shifting multiple times in your seat.

Spencer joined you, sitting beside you, so close you could feel his eyes on you as your leg began to bounce. He put his hand over it and, with a strong hand, stilled the movement. 

"Y/N, you did a good job connecting these cases." His voice was meek and calming, and you'd generally very much appreciate it if his hand weren't sending your body through some serious loops right then. 

Your leg was on fire where he was touching you, his hand hot even through the fabric of your clothes. But when he pulled the hand away, watching your legs for any further tremors, you felt the need to snatch it back and replace it on your leg, certain that it would sooth the burning once more. 

You snapped yourself out of it quickly. If you were thinking this way about Spencer of all people, then you really needed to get laid. 

"Tampa's population consists of 43% singles, you know. Good statistics for getting laid." You twisted your head around to meet his eyes again.

"Tell me I didn't say that outloud." But his small smile dashed your hopes as you realised you just admitted to feeling incredibly horny because of his hand on your knee. 

"If it's any consolation, I'm definitely the only one who heard it." His hand fell back to your thigh, and you twitched as it did, but you didn't move him. 

"Fucking floridians and their goddamn 14 orgams a month," you muttered under your breath, hoping that he wasn't paying any attention to you now, seeing as how he'd opened up a book to hold in one hand. 

"Lucky if I get even one and Florida man has 14 in him." You continue mumbling as you try to get cosy, closing your eyes and moving your head to find a comfortable position. 

“You definitely said that one out loud.” He laughed, and you threw up your middle finger while letting your head fall back and your body take the rest it needed. 

Without opening your eyes, you decided you needed the last word, a phenomenon you often found occurring in Spencer’s presence. 

“A gentleman would pretend to not have heard that, Spencer.”

“I’m not a gentleman.” Annoyance prickled you at his reply, but you were too tired to say anything more as you caught up with the sleep that had been evading you for weeks. 

–X–

Your landing in Florida comes almost too soon, and Hotch delegates tasks before you’ve even had the chance to properly get your feet beneath you after so long in the sky. 

This case was becoming more of a mindfield with each of the pieces of information you’d received. Upon getting off of his call with the FBI Field Office closest to Zephryhills, Hotch had informed the team about an ongoing investigation into the police captain’s wife, whose pseudo-Christian church group were spewing vitriol about damn near every group you could think of. 

“Religious discrimination, racism, sexism, homophobia and some pretty screwed up views of basically everything else, too.” Penelope had informed the group, pulling up the files that had been sent to her.

“It seems their most recent project is… Oh, how relevant. An adult establishment just opened up on the outskirts of Tampa, right on the highway that connects it to Zephyrhills. And from the boasts of the club owner on social media, it seems he’s telling anyone who listens that he’s not going to get shut down because the police are his main clientele.” 

She sent through links to some of the posts to your iPads, and you angled the thing towards Spencer so he could take in the new information as well. 

“Could we be looking at a religious motive to the murders? You said that the police captain called these women Jezebels. The name is biblical, she was a Queen who worshipped a false god and was defenestrated because of it, but over time, the uncapitalised jezebel, as you know, tended to refer to women with loose morals.”

“The motives could still be religious, but these women were raped. It says in the case files that Mrs. James’s church group is solely comprised of women, mostly the wives of the officers in the police force.” 

Again, everything was leading you back to this stupid police precinct. You grimmaced as you realised that the next few weeks were going to be spent on the edge watching your back. 

“Y/N, Reid, I want you both with me at the precinct when we land. Morgan, JJ, go to the church and interview some of the ladies there, see if you can’t push some buttons. Emily, Rossi, some of the family’s of the victims got in touch with the field office to request inquiries, go anf find out whatever you can about the last known whereabouts of these women.” 

Now bracing yourself, you set your face in a neutral expression and let Spencer hold the door open for you as you walked into the station. 

“Hello, we’re the agents from the FBI. Where can we find your captain?” You ask the receptionist at the chatting to her desk, but just as you finish your inquiry, another officer cuts you off, stepping half in front of you and demanding some files from the woman. 

She stands awkwardly, sending you an apologetic glance as she scurries off to go and complete whatever busy work he’s just given her as you quietly seeth at his back. 

The officer turns around to you and grins, sending you a smile as he walks off, apparently pleased with himself for foiling your attempts to find his boss. 

“Y/N, keep a cool head. The captain’s office seems to be just ahead, I’m going to go and see if he’s there, smooth out some of the issues they seem to be having over here with our presence.” You nod and stay back with Spencer, who takes a quick seat behind you. 

You don’t sit, though, too on edge and pissed off to get comfortable now. 

The officers seem to ignore the two of you, bustling around you with no sense of shame, but you can tell they're watching you, hearing the low murmur of whispers. 

When one of them decides to out their hands on you, though, you've decided you've had enough.

"Sorry, little lady, I need to get through. Important police business." He practically Leeds down at you as his hands grab your waist, meaning to move you aside to her you out of his path. 

You don't give him the chance, grabbing his hands from your hips and twisting them behind his back quickly, shoving him face first into the nearest desk. 

"Fuck, you little bitch. Come and control your partner, man." He struggles in your grasp, signalling to Spencer. 

You grin as Spencer doesn't even look up at him, having pulled out a copy of War and Peace and settling nicely in his seat. You could tell he was on edge though, had seen the slight way his body tensed when you'd first been touched, and knew that if you'd needed it, he'd be there backing you up in a second. 

"Sorry, are you talking to me?" He finally said, still not looking up from his book. 

"Yes, get this bitch off of me." 

"If you ask her nicely, I'm sure Agent Y/N would release you. As for me, I'm certainly not making her do anything she doesn't want to." He grinned as he said it, and you rolled your eyes slightly.

"Maybe if you told some of these other agents here to stop looking at her likes, she's a hunk of meat and greeted her respectfully instead of calling her… little lady, was it? Maybe then she'd be more generous." The man grumbled beneath you again, but before you could actually force his hand, Hotch and the Captain were exiting his office, obviously alerted by the crashing sound you'd made. 

"Reid, Y/N, that's enough." Hotch signalled, and you complied, letting the man go and stepping back to Reid's side. He'd stood now, squaring his shoulders and making use of his quite intimidating height. You must seem tense, though, because the second you settle next to him, he puts a hand on your lower back, and you're surprised at how calm you instantly become. 

Earlier, his touch had been fire and ice, and now it was relaxing you beyond belief. What the hell was wrong with your body recently? 

"Thank you, sir," the officer said, straightening, dusting off his uniform as he levelled a glare at both you and Spencer. "I was beginning to think the FBI was just a bunch of sissy's and menstruators-" 

"Cut the crap." Hotch barked out, and even you were startled by the sound. "Captain, if you or any member of your precinct says anything further about any member of my team, or god forbid puts a hand on them, I'll personally make sure this office is charged with conspiracy to murder for not investigating these deaths and aggravated assault of a federal officer. Do I make myself clear?" 

The man seemed displeased at having his badge threatened for a second time in 24 hours, but nodded, dismissed the other officer, and finally shut up. 

He has the female receptionist from earlier show you to the room you'd be using for your investigation for the next few weeks. 

After  making sure the room is secure, you place a call to Penelope and the others trying to gauge if they'd found any further leads. 

"Some of the family members know exactly where they were going that night. One of them had a husband, said he was going with her, that they drove in separate cars because it was part of the thrill of it all." Emily's voice sounded tense and frustrated, and you could only sympathise silently before jumping in to ask her more questions.

"I thought they said it was an adult establishment? Does that not mean strip club?" You asked, perplexed at why the married couple would be going together. 

"No, from what I can tell, it seems these women were members of the BDSM community, and that place… is somewhere they can practice." 

"So even if we do somehow get another victim, any DNA test could be questionable evidence because they all left to have consensual sex." You sighed out and ran a stressed hand through your hair.

On your call with JJ and Morgan, you got much of the same. 

"Oh, they're angry, alright. About the immigrants and the drug dealers, the homosexuals, and the jezebels. Seems they're working hard to get the club closed not just because it's a house of sin but also because the man who owns it might be an illegal immigrant."

"How quaint and Christian of them."

"Yep, and get this, the club's official title? Women for the Grace of God. There were no men in this group, Y/N. We're not going to find our unsub here." 

Hanging up, you let your head hang, the fatigue of the case really kicking your ass. 

"Spencer, draw the blinds, Y/N, lock the doors." Hotch ordered, and you listened, quickly making sure that no one was even close to the door. Returning to your seat, you noted the tense set of your boss's jaw and decided that whatever he had to say wasn't going to be good. 

"Our unsub is in this precinct, which means we're not safe. But it also puts us in a unique position. They don't know we suspect them yet. We can force the unsubs hand." 

You straightened in your chair, listening closer. 

"You want to bait them out?" Spencer asked from his place beside you. 

"I want you two to bait them out. You already got under a few of the officers' skin, push a few more buttons, and we could get our unsub to slip up." 

"And how are we supposed to do that?" You asked, heart thumping in anticipation. You thought you already knew, but you needed to hear the words from his mouth to be sure. 

"They're going after women in the BDSM lifestyle. Let's convince them that the two of you are also similarly involved." 

He turned and left you with the decision then, leaving you and Spencer in the small room alone. 

Your palms were sweaty, and you refused eye contact for a few minutes before he finally cracked and gave in first.

"It'd work." He whispered, suddenly closer than you remembered. 

"What?" 

"It would work. Whoever this guy is, he's getting off on dominating these women, seeing another man that he deems physically inferior dominating a woman who's already kicked an officers ass… that's enough to get him to crumble, slip up."

"So I'm supposed to just bend over and take it?"

"Bend over, yes, but I usually prefer women to be a bit bratty." 

"What?" You found yourself blinking up at his face, even as the door swung open again, another officer walking into the small room you'd been left in. 

You stepped away from Reid slightly, putting a more appropriate distance between the two of you before the man started talking. 

"Well hello, I heard we had some feds in the office, thought I'd come introduce myself, but I didn't hear we had such a beautiful woman here, too. She a witness?" He directed the question to Spencer, but his leering eyes never left your body, trailing down slowly and disgustingly as you tried not to shudder under his gaze. 

"I'm Doctor Spencer Reid, this is my partner, Agent Y/N. How can we help you?"

"Oh, I'm all set on my medicals, doc. You can't help me. Maybe she can if you let me take her out for a test drive?" Your blood boiled as he said those words, and you were about to send a cutting reply back to the man, when Spencer sat back down in his seat, snaking an arm around your waist to take you with him.

"Sorry, I don't lend out my private property." Stunned, you tried to act naturally about your new position, but his hand on your thigh slashes your brain capacity down by half, the only thought in your head running through Spencer Reid's possible sexual preferences. 

"Oh, I see how it is. She's a slut, just not that kind. Okay, I'll bite, what's this one into? Choking, spanking? Careful, don't go too far or you'll be prime suspect number one for our perp." 

"What are you insinuating, officer?"

"That these sluts you're asking about got in over their heads. Some women like it rough, practically beg for it. Poor guy just did what they were asking." Biting your tongue, you let the man keep digging his own hole, as Spencer kept him talking.

"Actually, contrary to popular opinion, in most sado-masochistic relationships, the submissive partner is the one in control. They have power to stop whatever role play is going on in the scene through safe words and actions, and the dominant role is more of a protective role, requiring a deep level of commitment and care for their sub." As he said it, he turned your face to his, hooking a finger under your chin and then stroking your face as you fell further into his body. 

You almost forgot the other officer was there until you heard his grumbled reply, turning your head slightly to whisper in Reid's ear. 

"Long shot, Doc." With that, you climbed from his lap, turning back to the other officer with a grin. 

"Sorry, was there anything professional we could help you with? Or would you like to go and deal with your little problem alone in the men's bathroom now?" He turned on his heels and exited swiftly, face red with rage at your insinuations. 

"Okay. I'll admit, it's going to work. But we're going to need to set up some bait and deliver the profile to them to make sure we have each and every one of their attentions."

"I'll notify, Hotch." 

"Spencer, wait." He stopped at the door and turned back to listen to you. "Earlier when you said… when you mentioned that you'd prefer…" You tried to ask the question  but it seemed the question just wasn't going to form on your lips  so you simply let out a small frustrated humph and let him figure out the rest. 

"Y/N, I… I don't know how to answer that question and still act professionally around you."

He left the room shortly after, and you couldn't help but feel disappointed at the distance suddenly kept between the two of you. You were beginning to become much too distracted by Spencer Reid.

–X– 

"Let's have another rundown again, just so we're all clear on the play by play on this." Morgan said as you and Spencer were wired up, ready for your operation. 

It wasn't exactly undercover, but it wasn't quite straight police work either, but here you were. After giving the profile earlier, you'd noted that three of the officers had seemed a little bit fidgety under all the new information they were getting, all three of them matching your profile. 

Unluckily for you, they just happened to be the Captain in charge of the precinct, Detective Handsy from your first trip into the office, and Detective Dumbass, who'd asked you and Spencer all about BDSM earlier that day. 

Penelope had filled you in on each of their backgrounds. The Captain was second generation police force, but court of public opinion had ruled that his father wasn't exactly an upstanding guy, a report corroborated by his mother's multiple accidents and trips to the ER. Detective Handsy had a misdemeanour sex crime expunged from his juvenile record for masturbating in public - on the unconscious girl who sat next to him on the bus.

Detective Dumbass seemed to be the police contact for all the local prostitutes. He'd busted at least thirty in three months, and each of them had reportedly tried to turn him in as the John who'd paid for their services. 

"Run through it again." Morgan brought you down to earth as JJ finished attaching the wire under your clothing, handing you the small in ear so you could hear updates from the team. 

"We walk into the bar, get a little too close for comfort than they'd like, then ask the bartender where we can have some fun around here. She's been prepped to give us the answer we want, and we set out on the highway where Rossi and Hotch are waiting in unmarked cars to give us an escort until our unsub takes the bait and tries to pull us over." 

"Good, now, Spencer, do I have to show you where to put your hands, or do you think you've read enough to figure out how to push the right buttons?" From the grin on his face, it was evident he was enjoy pushing the younger man's buttons  but you could tell he wasn't doing it maliciously. The two of you were both tense and on edge, and you needed that waylaid somehow. 

"Trust me, Morgan, I think he knows where his fingers should go." You said before grabbing Spencer’s hand and dragging him out of the vehicle, not letting him go until you were right by the door of the bar. 

You didn't really let him go either, it's more like he caught up to you and moved his hand from yours to your ass instead, pulling you closer into his body as you made to move inside the bar. 

He hesitated a moment outside, though.

"Y/N, we haven't talked about boundaries yet. I'm going to have to touch you in there and-"

"You have my permission. For anything." Your words come faster than you expect, but they're there, filling the silence of the night quickly. 

"Anything?" He asks, a small play lighting up his lips as he pulls you in closer. You can feel his breath on your skin, and you almost take back your words until he lowers his head. Your lips are barely an inch apart and getting slowly closer as you angle your head up towards him, when the bar doors swing open and he turns and pulls you inside instead. 

You recover quickly, trying to focus on the twelve women who need to find justice rather than the many things you suddenly want Spencer Reid to be doing to you. 

You slide into a booth at the edge of the bar  but you'd canvassed the place earlier, knowing that while it appeared to be a quiet corner, every other table had a clear view of your actions in the corner. 

Surely enough  you felt a few pairs of eyes on you as you sat down, a little closer for comfort than you expected.

"Well, Penelope's sources were correct. It seems like every cop in town is here tonight." You said, whispering the words into Spencer's neck, just above where his own wire was placed, making sure the words were heard by both him and the members of your team left in the surveillance van. 

"Show time," he said, grabbing your hands and bringing them to his lips as you stood. He gave your ass a quick slap as you made to walk towards the bar, and you sent him back a wink as you walked to order your drinks. 

Ordering them quickly, you took a simple scan of the room, noting that all three of your suspects were social butterflies tonight. They all sat on different tables, but each had at least another man with him, and every single one of them was looking at you presitorially. 

Returning to your seat with the drinks, you never felt their gazes leave you. 

"Certainly caught their attention. What now?" You asked hesitantly, sliding up against Spencer’s body again. 

"Now we give them a show." He said, snaking a hand between your legs and forcing them apart gently. You'd changed into a shorter skirt and smaller top before coming back out, needing to look the part of the slut they'd already deemed you. 

You smiled up at Spencer as he stoked your thigh suggestively, but he never moved it further up. 

"Spencer, kiss me." You said, eyelids heavy as you begged the man to take you further than touching. 

"Why?" He asked softly in your ear.

"Because a few of our suspects are getting restless, and I want to see if we can tip some of them over the edge. Obviously you're smarter than trying to stick your hand up my skirt in public surrounded by a group of cops who would happily stick you in a cell for the night for public indecency, so you're just going to have to stick your tongue down my throat." 

"Here I was thinking maybe you wanted it," he grumbled but complied anyway, grabbing the back of your head with his free hand and pulling you towards him. The kiss wasn't soft. It wasn't gentle the way his caresses were. It was hot and it was demanding, and when he pulled away after a minute and your lips followed his desperate for more  he grabbed your hair and pulled you backwards, baring your neck to him easily as he moved his lips down slightly. 

Opening your eyes then, you again surveyed the bar, noting that the Captain and his friends were leaving, sending a stink eyed glare in your direction as they threw down their cups and left. 

"Morgan, get eyes on the Captain. Make sure he goes home and stays there," you breathe out quietly, waiting to hear the affirmative in your ear as Spencer kept his head buried at your neck. 

In another second, he was off you, taking a swig only his drink as he smoothed your hair down again. You do your best to ignore the history pooling between your legs and the haze clouding up your brain as you stare at him swallow the drink, watching a small stream of the soda you'd ordered him instead run down his chin. 

You watched it fall and, in a moment of thoughtlessness, pressed forward to lap it up from his neck. He'd spent time marking you. What harm could this do now? 

However you rationalised it, you knew it was just an impulse, one greatly rewarded by his hands pulling your hips over his and a growl in your ears. 

"Anything?" Was the only thing he said, and you pulled away to look into his eyes again before he pulled you in for another kiss. 

"Sorry to interrupt, love bunnies, but we've had a change of plan. Two of our suspects are out, and they've bailed and been safely and discreetly escorted home by FBI agents from the field office. Hotch and Rossi are on the way back. He thinks we can nail him in there and get him to act out." 

Pulling back from the kiss long enough to whisper your reply to Morgan into Spencer's mic, you can barely tear your eyes away from the man. 

"What do you want us to do?" 

"Men's bathroom is free. Hotch thinks if we make it look like you're doing something less than holy in there that it could force his hand. Especially because he's shown voyeuristic tendencies in the past."

"Shit. Detective Dumbass?" 

"Only one left. And his name is Dunbar. You'd do well to remember that in the paperwork."

Pulling yourself up and out of Spencer's lap, you took a swig of your drink again as you stood. 

"Follow me in three minutes." He grabs you by your wrist and turns you back around to him again, though before you can leave.

"Y/N, we're going to get this guy. After we do, I think we should talk." Instead of answering him, you pressed another lingering kiss to his lips and moved out again, heading directly to the dark corridor where the bathrooms were. 

You slipped into the men's easily enough, thankful that it was empty. It was a single stall, and when you heard the knock on the door two minutes later, you were suddenly thankful that it was, because it meant that you could lock the door behind him and not risk anyone else coming in while you baited your unsub.

Spencer placed a hand to his lips as soon as he made it through the door, pulling out his phone to type out a message to you without speaking. 

"Followed me. Think he's listening outside." 

You pulled your own out to answer him.

"Let's give him a show then."

The both of you discarded your phones on the countertop of the bathroom and suddenly collided again, as if you were two magnets who could no longer resist the pull. 

Your lips fought hungrily, and now you didn't pull back your voice  letting all the moans of pleasure fall from your mouth and fill the bathroom.

His hands were on you in an instant, pushing you back against the door, letting the creep behind the wall hear as much as possible as his hips found yours and you started grinding against him like your life depended on it. 

You could no longer tell what you were doing for the case, and what you were doing out of the simple desire to do so, wrapped up in all of the pleasure he was giving you in that minute. And that was before he started talking. 

"You like that, whore? You like feeling my hands on you out here in this dirty bathroom." You clenched around nothing, even as his hands trailed lower, reaching the top of your skirt just as you replied. 

"Yes, I like that, Daddy. Please touch me more." 

You crashed together again, even as Spencer's hand fell inside your skirt and panties suddenly reaching for your clit. You forgot everything. The bathroom, the unsub, the wire you were wearing. When his hands were on you your only thoughts were him. 

You gasped in delight as he began rubbing you, moaning out heartily, not bothering to restrain your voice. Even if there was not a murderer on the other side of the door, you'd have wanted everyone to know how good he was making you feel. 

"Kneel," he says, and you listen, getting down to the dirty floor for him and looking up at him innocently.

"Now what, sir?" You ask, teasing him with a smile. He gives your face a light slap in reply, but the sound is sharp, and you can hear some movement outside. You don't get to think about it for too long, however, as he suddenly removes his cock from his pants. 

"Suck" is all the instruction you need before you're taking him into your mouth and wrapping your tongue around him. 

After the entire night of teasing, you don't have to be told twice. You take him down your throat until you're gagging, but he puts his hands on your head and pushes you further anyway. 

"That's it, baby, such a nice little slut just for me." He holds your hair as he begins fucking your face, softly whispering insults into the quiet bathroom. 

"Perfect little slut, letting me do this here. For anyone to see and hear how much you like my dick down your throat. I should unlock this door, show everyone how nicely you take my cock."

You moan around him, desperately gripping his thigh as you struggle to breathe. He finally pulls out, pulling you up by your hair until you're face to face with him again, saliva dripping from your mouth. 

"Is that how you like it?" He asks, and you nod fervently.

"Yes, sir. Please fuck me now, I've been such a good little girl." 

He turns you and presses you against the door again. As you turn your ear to it, you can hear some pacing outside of it as he lifts up your skirt.

You were ready to feel this perfect bliss, right up to the moment Morgan decided to remind you of the task at hand. 

"Hotch is here. We've got him cornered. Great acting, guys. We're thinking if Y/N exits the bathroom now, we can catch him trying to carry her off." 

His hands stilled on you, and you both stared guiltily into each other's eyes. You kept your sounds up, definitely acting now, feeling as though you'd just been doused in ice-cold water.

Footsteps retreating down the hall had you suddenly nodding in response to each other, faking your orgasm with one last large gasp followed by a few minutes of silence and you straightened your clothes ready to bait the unsub once again. He tucks himself into his pants, and you loudly discuss your plans for separate exits. 

"I'll meet you back at the table in five." He says, and with another lingering look, you're out the door and alone in the dark corridor, feeling empty and needy.

It was time to catch a killer.

[ninibeingdelulu]

— headcanons ft. leon kennedy

You met Leon when he was just a rookie cop fresh out of the academy before that nightmarish first day in Raccoon sent both your lives spiraling into chaos and tragedy. Despite the hellish circumstances, you formed an unbreakable bond fueled by sheer survival instinct.

After the dust settled and you both made it out alive by the skin of your teeth, neither of you knew how to resume any semblance of normalcy. The trauma lingered too viscerally beneath the surface, casting long shadows even during peaceful moments.

In Leon you found a kindred spirit haunted by the same waking nightmares - one who understood the primal, animalistic panic of being stalked and eviscerated by unholy bio-weapons. He may have started as just a well-meaning if slightly naive rookie, but the hardened survivor who emerged from Raccoon's ruins began mirroring your own instincts for self-preservation at any cost.

At first, you kept any intimacies strictly physical and detached, both of you desperately chasing oblivion between the sheets. Losing yourselves to sweat-slicked passion became the only way to escape the pervasive horrors replaying on a constant loop in your psyches.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, those ravenous encounters gradually softened around the edges. Harsh, bruising grips eased into caresses. Frantic, selfish movements gave way to tenderness and consideration for the other's pleasure. Until eventually, Leon's usual rigid exterior would crack just enough to expose the frightened, damaged young man beneath after you'd spent yourselves into breathless exhaustion.

It became your mission to bear witness to those fleeting shards of vulnerability, no matter how quickly he'd shutter them away again post-coitus. You ached to remind him - and yourself in turn - that he was still worthy of gentleness despite the serrated-edge of cynicism he armored himself with.

These days, you share a modest apartment together. A sanctuary, however temporary it might be before the next crisis summons one or both of you into the field again. Leon keeps most of his gear meticulously organized near the door for a quick getaway, ever vigilant. But you've introduced small creature comforts amidst the Spartan decor - lush blankets to cocoon you both, scented candles, tasteful art prints to humanize your den.

He no longer startles awake in a cold sweat with a bellow of terror or panic thanks to your steadying presence curled protectively around him. You've learned to wake him with soothing words and the lightest touch through the night terrors lest his primed instincts kick in first. That stoicism remains, of course, but gradually you've helped him find more ease between the lulls of combat.

Leon rarely initiates physical intimacy first unless freshly separated after a deployment when the ache for closeness simply overwhelms him. But once you run exploratory hands over his sculpted body, his restraint crumbles into fevered need to clutch you flush against him. Possessive. Basking in every inch of warm, living flesh without threat of imminent violence.

He's mastered peeling away your clothing with a tantalizing, unhurried lack of urgency born from long experience now. Reveling in the journey and not just the destination, savoring every exposed swell of skin with hushed murmurs and feather-light kisses until you squirm and writhe beneath his doting attention.

While Leon has grown more vocal during these hushed liaisons when his guard erodes completely, he still struggles to outwardly proclaim those three weighted words defining your bond. You don't need them, though. His actions damn sure speak louder - in the protective steel banding his arms around you from behind, the single-minded focus devouring your curves for any sign of injury or imperfection, the ragged whispers muffled against the sweat-dampened nape of your neck each time you both crest with shared euphoria.

Deep down, beneath the chiseled mask of lethal pragmatism branded by combat and unspeakable horror...Leon S. Kennedy remains a romantic at his core, hopelessly tender and relishing the simple sanctuary you represent after years of turmoil. So he holds you close through the nightmares, inhales your comforting scent amidst the choking stench of death, and reminds himself there's still some flicker of humanity worth fighting for time and again.

[kookslastbutton]

Those Eyes Chico ༓ myg (m) | Teaser

✒ Summary: As the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour, you’re expected to bring your expertise to the table. This shouldn’t be a problem—you’re the best in the business and you’re used to drawing a strict line between your professional and personal life. But what happens when the lines you’ve fought to keep as separate blur for the first time?

pairing: idol!yoongi x plus size!poc!reader

genre/AU: angst, fluff, smut, slow-burn, coworkers2friends2lovers, winter setting, forbidden love?

word count: tbd, 835 for this teaser

warnings: oc is 28, Yoon is 30, oc is not originally from South Korea, oc has light brown eyes, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, body insecurities, fear of being blacklisted, emotionally restrained Yoon, mentions of smoking, unstable parental relationships, conservative parents, mentions of therapy, mentions of dating scandal, eventual sexual content, and more specific warnings per chapter.

now playing: Sweet Dreams by The Last Shadow Puppets

a/n: Okay this has taken over six months to release but it's finally beginning and I am super excited to share! 🫣 I am low-key terrible at choosing a proper teaser so hoepfull this works haha. ANYWAY, this series is dedicated to my wonderfully crazy friend and beta, Gloom @theuselessdaydreamingidiot, and to all our fellow Yoon lovers bc we miss our sweet man SO MUCH 🥺 Enjoy! 🥰 Also huge thank you to @itaeewon for designing this beautiful series header! Love it!!

Series Masterlist

“Did you get the files I sent to you?”

The woman nods her head in affirmation while sweeping a few pieces of her long, silky hair behind an ear. To strangers, she appears to look about 24 which is only four years younger than yourself but nonetheless she’s the same age as you. Hei-Ran is her name, meaning “graceful orchid” according to Korean translation.

Hei-ran is one of Hybe’s newest hires and based on her experience, a near perfect fit to being South Korean boy group Tomorrow X Together’s new marketing manager. Until about three months ago, this had been your job.

You never imagined giving up the position after three years of working in the role. But with December right around the corner Hybe had other plans for you.

"Graduated summa cum laude with a bachelors degree in BTech in Electrical and Electronics Engineering and a MBA in Marketing from NYU Stern. You worked two years as a brand manager for U.S record label Atlantic Records immediately after graduating, and are now working at BigHit Music as a marketing manager for TXT including liaison with their global marketing team.”

You recall PD Bang’s voice vibrate in the back of your mind from mid-August. You thought you were called into his office to discuss details of TXT’s latest promo, so having your resume read back to you was a sweeping curve ball. Your determination must have far exceeded the heaviness you felt in your chest because before you knew it you, you were shaking hands with your boss in acceptance of your role – the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour.

The tedious knot that’s formed in the nape of your neck reminds you that as surreal as the situation might be, it’s undeniably real.

Months spent drafting a comprehensive marketing proposal for D-Day; often until the wee hours of the night, inevitably takes its toll on even the mightiest of warriors. An entire new team of fifty people, all of who you’ll be in charge of orchestrating for the next eight months, doesn’t provide much to relief either.

You’re excited nevertheless. Working with one of the most respected artists in the music industry is an opportunity you couldn’t let slip by, especially since the album’s rock-inspired genre aligns closely with your own music taste.

“Thank you so much for helping me get settled __,” Hei-ran’s gentle voice returns you to the present. “I appreciate the time you’ve taken these last few months to train me despite the tight deadlines you have.”

Smiling, you shake your head. “It’s no problem at all and if there’s anything you need in the future, feel free to give me a call or stop by my office.”

“On the 16th floor right?”

“1656A. Take a left off the elevator and walk to the end of the first hallway. The door on the right is mine.”

Referring to any room on the 16th floor as your own is something you don’t take lightly. For one the offices are double the size of any other office spaces in the building. Yours in particular has a giant skyscraper window draped with heavy white curtains. Secondly, the floor above is the 17th floor which is exclusive to Hybe artists only.

"How's the proposal coming along, by the way?" Her curiosity is palpable, genuine in its nature. You’ve always appreciated that in an individual.

“It’s done,” you respond. “Only thing left to do is to prepare for our meeting with C-suite executives next Monday. It’s nearly perfect as is, but the presentation could use a bit of refining in terms of organization.”

Hei-ran is silent for a moment longer than usual before her next inquiry, which is undoubtedly the question on both of your minds. “I can't help but wonder what it'll be like to meet him for the first time,” she muses.

You don’t bother asking for clarification on who the “him” is; you’re already well aware that it’s Min Yoongi. The same subject has managed to intrude your own thoughts more and more as the date of meeting him draws closer. It's peculiar honestly, considering you’ve encountered him before. Granted, it was only a small handful of times the hallway, both heading in opposite directions. Min Yoongi typically greeted you with a hoarse 'Good Morning' those instances, along with a curt nod of his head. You would nod back with a brief 'Morning' yourself. Deep down you feel he'd make a quality friend, though it's only a premonition. It’s not like you actually know much about him beyond those small exchanges.

"I'm not sure what to expect, honestly," you admit. "I imagine it'll be similar to previous professional collaborations—composed, focused, and intense. D-Day is poised to become a global sensation for the next year, so it's going to need our full, undivided attention."

Hei-ran gives a knowing nod. “Good luck __,” she wishes you well as you head towards the elevator doors. Breaks over, back to work.

a/n: Chapter one will be released soon 🙃 Thanks for reading the teaser!

Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[grigori77]

Critical Role, Season 3 Episode 106

Czepeku? Oh boy ... please tell me it's another fantastic fake advert ... PLEASE let it be a fake perfume ad ... oh boy ... yes, yes yes yes ... YES!!! Holy fuck ... whoa, Ashley you don't have to go THAT HARD ... fuck me she's so hot ... that was SO FUCKING GOOD ... I'm so happy with that one, that's WAAAAAAAAAY too good ...

Also Matt's t-shirt is gonna be SO FUCKING DISTRACTING, I swear to the dark gods ...

Yeah, we're all SO HYPED for Legend of Vox Machina season 3. I'm just hoping Rothuss is gonna be in it. I want Kerrek to be in the new season SO MUCH. Let Keyleth have her sweet and kindly uncle figure, it's so worth it ...

THE "IT HAS BEGIN" SHIRT!!! SHAME ON A SHIRT INDEED!!! He is NEVER going to live that down and I love it so much ... XD

"Modest collection" ... snort ... yeah right ...

Attunements and messages ... yes, smart ... getting through to Ira, then ... this should be interesting ...

Oh here we go ... Imogen: "He's down to play." Uh-huh ...

Meet up with him at Morrie's? Oh yeah ... yeah, that would DEFINITELY be interested ... wait ... Fearne thinks they might've had ... liaisons when she was home? O.O

Two expert liars going head-to-head ... FEARNE wins that toss? Fascinating ...

Heading to Nana Morri's in the morning, then ... okay ...

Ira remembers her ... OH. MY. GAAAAWWWWWWWWD ...

Bedtime, then ... meanwhile Fearne goes hunting for the superfan ...

Oh dear ... I wonder if him considering that egg "priceless" make her decide to just steal it on general principal ... oh, she's going THAT route? I'm sorry ... "stories of his CONQUESTS"?!!! Excuse me? O.O

Persuasion check? With a stupid high DC? 15? Balls ... yeah, I didn't think that was gonna work anyway ...

She's gonna steal it now, isn't she? Yup ... "Look how good they are ... ALMOST." LOL

It's not even locked ... WOW ... Raiders of the Lost Ark ... yeah ... and now she's trapped ... oh boy ... yeah, I saw that coming too ... this is really kind of adorable ...

He's praying for guidance to be forgiving ... wow ... yeah ... religious types ... LOL

Laura: "Are you dead?" Travis: "Oh ... yeah ... hold on ..." For fuck's sake ... O.O

Oooh! Breakfast! Goody!

Wait a second ... IS THIS A FUCKING HERO'S FEAST?!!! Oh, and that is a BURN right there ... Fearne, you deserve that ...

Laudna, that joke fell VERY flat ... yeah ...

"Top of the Pops" ... oh my gods ...

Yes, you are, Chet. You're starting a fucking cult ... O.O

"My liege" ... holy fuck ... Chetney: "I got lieged!" XD

Tiny carved peacock figurine, fully articulate ... that is fucking FIENDISH ... damn right that boy has been brought to fucking TEARS ...

The fifth egg ... oh boy ... what have you done, Matthew Mercer?

"Misery", by Dreven King ... LOL

The Birthheart ... and Keyleth! Yay!

Oh yeah ... plans for a quick escape, if needed ... yeah ... oh, and supplies! Yes. Also helpful. And yay! She's got 'em covered, of course she does.

Just a big fat bag of coins? Holy shit ... of course, I mean ANYTHING for her favourite halfling, of course ... :3

550 gold ... HOLY SHIT ...

Yes. Give that to Orym. Definitely. Tank the Wee Man when needed.

The mechanics of communication between the Prime Deities and the Betrayer Gods ... hmmmmm ... yes, a Religious check is probably wise ... roll well, Riegel ... 15 ... oh for fuck's sake ...

Laudna: "Open ralationships are in right now." Wow ...

To the Fey Realm, then? Or ARE THEY gonna shop first? Straight to Nana's place, then ... okay ...

Marisha: "Keyleth's more fun that Allura." Matt: "Allura's got strong ... like, sprinster vibes." XD

Another tree portal! Fearne: "Such a fun way to travel."

Yup ... first time in the Feywild for Dorian and Braius ...

Chetney gets some fey wood ... yup ... that's definitely on-brand ...

Ligament Manor! Yeah! This should be fun for the noobs ...

That is a ... CREEPY owl ... Laudna's loving it, of course. Meanwhile Dorian's keeping a brave face on while he's inwardly FREAKING OUT. Of course he is ... meanwhile Imogen's trying to keep him chilled out as she can ...

Oh fuck ... the flowers again ... please don't start screaming this time ... O.O

Braius is ROTTING THE GROUND where he steps ... of course he is ...

Dorian's playing music ... oh, the Cantina band music from A New Hope? Cute ... Matt: "We can't clear that." XD

Great. That's stuck in my head now ...

There it is. One of the creepiest houses in all the Realms ... how's Blue Boy gonna react to THIS?

Of course she just screams out: "NANA!!!"

The voice ... I have missed that phenomenally EXTRA voice ...

Here we go ... I can just IMAGINE Dorian's eyes getting wider ... and wider ... Robbie's face! It's priceless! XD

Greetings, Dorian. This is going to live in your nightmares for DECADES. And the second mouth ... Dorian: "Oh, grandma kisses are always wet!" LOL

Wwo ... oh, she LIKES the minotaur ... and is Sam making Braius' voice EXTRA low right now? LOL ... oh, this is too priceless ... wow ... he is actually FLIRTING right now, I love it ... oh yes! Drinks! Drinks are good, yes ...

Nana: "You're so CUTE!!! Where are you FROM? You smell like shadow and bad choices!"

Ah yes ... of course ... we should've REMEMBERED that this sudden success of Chetney's must be down to the deal he made with her ...

What are the chances Fearne really DOES have a second face down in her marsupial pouch?

Imogen (to Braius): "Do YOU have siblings?" Braius: "... I hadn't thought of that." LOL

THE TIKI BAR!!! YAY!!!

Oh ... dropping the news that Ira might be dropping by ... oh ... this just got interesting ... that's a very ... UNEXPECTED reaction from her there ... hmmmmm ... O.O

Insight check THE FATESTITCHER?!!! Seriously?

Bountiful luck ... Laura: "I reroll ones? Just because you're NEAR me?" O.O

Yeah ... the death of FCG ... I really didn't need THAT wound reopening just yet ... thanks for that ...

The weird dead Ruidian ... THING in the jar ... yeah, Laudna would be reluctant to part with THAT ... oh, a trade? Yeah, that'd probably work better ...

Oh shit ... enter the Nightmare King ... here we go ... oh, so he's LITERALLY just come STRAIGHT from the Red Moon ...

That is a VERY unsettling handshake ... O.O

She's giving him the COLD SHOULDER ... I love it ... and making out like Braius is the new boytoy ... XD ... that's hilarious and adorable in the freakiest way possible ...

Ira: "I like boom-boom." Oh boy ...

Noooooooo ... Braius, you didn't ... that is SOOOOOOO BAD ... I love that so much ... LOL

Ah yes ... Nan Morri, you old flirt ... it's adorable and deeply unsettling ... and now Pate's getting in on the act too? Wow ...

Oh wow ... a flimpse of Morri in her youth? That's just FASCINATING ... and also pure nightmare fuel, of course ...

Yeah ... Nana and Orym ... okay ... how's THIS gonna go? O.O ... do I need to worry?

Birdie! Oh my gods! Awwwwwwwwww ... :3

Fancy magic lens-glass necklace? Cute ... and probably a little lucky too, I don't doubt ...

Getting to it, then ... hmmmm ...

Nine freaky long-necked six-legged spectral horses ... freaky shit ... okay, then ... oh, they can FLY? Of course they can fly ... wow ...

Oh ... good question ... how old IS SHE?!!! Oh wow ... the return of "time is a weird soup" ... :3

Thankfully, Chetney doesn't literally make a horse's arse of himself ... XD ... heading off into the wilderness with Fearne in the lead, then ...

Oh dear ... Fearne doesn't know WHERE they're going ... of this is embarrassing ... but atleast IRA does ...

Nana Morri slaps Braius's arse as they leave ... oh boy ...

Wondering what Braius looks like from the waist down ... dear gods please defend us from dirty minds ... LOL ... just kidding ... XD

Time for a break, then ...

Beacon is a "non-invasive subscription" ... XD

Marisha LITERALLY channeling Laudna for a moment and forgetting that she is NOT an undead creature as she cracks her neck ... oof ... O.O

Pass Without a Trace? Oh these things?

Starting to reel off Japanese junkfood names for their horses ... oh yeah, with this crew I am NOT surprised ... voice actor's man ... XD

"Spread your legs ... I mean your wings ..." Oh dear ... well done, Matt ... Ashley: "I was spreading my legs all over town ..." LIam invokes the shirt once they're all dissolved into a cackling mess ... XD

Time to hide, yeah ... nd they need to REIN THEIR RIDES IN too ... oh boy ... this is not good ...

The trees are DANGEROUS ... fucking hell ... they're actually getting CUT UP riding through this shit! Oh dear ...

Imogen Temult, Horse Girl ...

Ashton literally DESTROYS a fey bird when he runs into it ... ouch ...

Coming to a stop, then ... and the horses go POOF!!! Great ...

Orym is as lithe and skilful a climber as ever, then ...

Wow ... this place is GORGEOUS, even in its state of decrepitude ... and that is one BIG ASS temple in the middle of it all ... yeah, looks like this place has beenm COMPLETELY abandoned ... just a whole lot of CORPSES ... OLD ones, looks like ...

Dragging Fearne up onto the wall like a sack of potatoes ... oh dear ... XD

SOLDIERS!!! Watch out for that ... potential trouble, then ... looks tricky, that ...

Hunter's Bane? Hmmm ... nothing iffy here, looks like ...

Pass Without a Trace ...

Chetney and Imogen climb down to sneask into the town itself, Dorian following with Ira taking up the rear ... and Telepathic Link between the group? Smart ...

Fearne trips and makes noise at the WORST POSSIBLE TIME ... oh shit ... O.O ... is this gonna be a bad thing? Yeah, that hawk can't mean anything good ... balls ... Laudna makes Pate turn invisible and sends him after it ...

Dead elf ... hmmm ... Grim Psychometry? Really? Lovely ... oh, this can't be good AT ALL ... something truly HORRIBLE happened here ...

THE WATER? That's what did it? They were all POISONED by something in the water? Something monstrous? Charming ...

So they're definitely based IN the temple, then ...

Big black dog ... with a human face ... well that's ... unsettling. That can't be good either ...

Battlemap? PLEASE tell me this is just for REFERENCE ... that we don't actually NEED THIS ... hollow prayers, I know ...

That is a fricking SWEET set-up, though ... O.O

At least the bone-rat has high stealth ... except when Marisha rolls proper BALLS ... 7? Oh gods ... yeah, there's NO WAY they could've possibly missed that ... and then he APOLOGISES for being clumsy. OUT LOUD ...

NOW Dorian remembers he can turn Invisble ...

The Monocle of True Essence with Arcane Eye ... okay, then ... Chetney, what do your non-elf eyes see?

Matt: "Chet's way off --" Marisha: "Yeah he is." Oof ... XD

Sneaky sentries? WITH crossbows? Crap ... that's not good ...

Dorian's having trouble getting the hang of communicating through the Telepathic Link and it's adorable. XD

Some winged invisible thing wrapped around the side of the temple ... oh shit ... yeah, OF COURSE it's fucking Gloamglut! Great ...

Ludinus! You asshat! Great ... and of course that has to be Zathuda with him ... meanwhile whoi's this other guy with the soldiers? Another Unseelie elf, of course, but ...

Load-bearing pillars? The fact that Matt SPECIFICALLY described them as "load-bearing" ... yeah, that could be useful somehow ...

Ira Wendigoth, jumping the gun ... of course he does ...

The mini! The Ira mini! It's so cool! O.O

Working out what they can actually DO ...

Chetney wolfs out and goes Invisible ... and puts on his fancy flesh armour ... eww ...

How the hell can LIAM O'BRIEN possible have rolled TWO NAT1S on Stealth in a row? I didn't think that was possible ...

Chetney lands two hits and CRITS a third ... ouch ... he's just gonna straigh up MURDER this poor bastard ... 23 for the first and 19 for the second ... the last is the decider. HDYWTDT ... yeah ... oh, that is BRUTAL ... like I said, straight up murder ...

That's right, Dorian can't cast without dropping his Invisibility ... be careful, Robbie ... he tries to Charm it? Wow ... and it WORKS ... holy shit ... this freaky dog is WEIRD ... wow ... he's actually trying to convince it to just GO STRAY ... what the fuck even IS THIS SHIT right now? O.O Oh my gods I can't believe that ACTUALLY FUCKING WORKED ...

And now this other guy's GOING AFTER IT ... crap ... and he sees Dorian ... BALLS!!!

Braius throws Silence upon him ... okay ... then ImogenPsychic Lances him ... good thing the guy's DUMB ... fuck that's a lot of dice ... how much are you about to hurt this guy, Laura Bailey? 25 points of Psychi damage? OUCH ... he screams and NOTHING COMES OUT ... crazy ...

Laudna pulls a Chill Touch on him by remote? Using one of the bodies ... oh fuck NAT20!!! Holy shit ... 38 ... oh yeah, DEFINITELY HDYWTDT ... she just gets the dead hands to DRAG HIM INTO THE GROUND like in Drag Me To Hell ... holy shit ... O.O

More Silence ... okay then, Ira ...

Meanwhile the third guy's starting to twig ...

Chetney and Ashton both hit him simulataneously ... Nat20 from Travis ... this is going CRAZY well so far ... Matt: "How do you guys wanna do this?" Of course! Fucking hell, Chet ... that is NASTY ...

What's Ira doing? O.O ... oh, he just freezes them both on the spot ... so Orym just rushes in with Ashton in tow, Braius following their lead ... Orym Misty Steps in close while Braius Silences them ...

Orym Crits on his target because he's Paralyzed ... 30 damage for the first hit, 24 on the second, 32 on the third ... yeah, he kills the poor bastard on the spot. Ouch ...

Ashton Crits ON TOP of his ALREADY Crit ... wow ... he does the Cosmic Space Rage and it goes all red ... Taliesin is DOING MATHS ... yeah, that's yet ANOTHER HDYWTDT ... he grabs him, pounds on him, drops him THROUGH A WORMHOLE and then drops him thirty feet out the other sid to the ground ... oh that is NASTY ... poor bastard ...

So that was ... remarkably easy ... now they just have to deal with whoever's INSIDE ...

MORE furtive planning on the next stage and what they can actually DO ...

Oh, so there's an ARGUMENT going on inside? So everything is not so merry in there? Orym listens in ...

Yeah, this DOES sound a bit frayed ... clear disharmony ... whoever this is, they're clearly uncomfortable under Ludinus' thumb ... oh, so it's ZATHUDA who's straining at the leash? Wow ... that's even MORE fractious than we hoped it was ...

Decision point ... so Laudna just casts Animate Object on the statue of the ArchHeart within ... oh boy ... O.O

Gloamglut touches down HARD inside ... meanwhile the other fey etc. go rushing in after ...

They're all just attacking the staue, then ... IMogen and Laudna go in, Imogen flying through a window, Fearne rushes in after, looking for the pillars so she can try and collpase them ... meanwhile they're all distracted, the dragon especially ...

Oh, is Matt getting another Battlmap? Oh, he is! Cool ...

Cue YET MORE plotting and prepping their next moves as they get a bearing on the fresh ground ...

WOW that Gloamglut mini is INSANE ... Ashley: "Look at him! He's so cute!" REALLY?!!!

The statue is just SHATTERED ... okay then ... NOW what?

Further planning, planning, planning ...

Time's running out, clearly ... Fearne has SECONDS left to do SOMETHING ... she bamfs Mister out to channel through him ... smart ... she unleashes her spell and turns the floor into MUSH ... and of course EVERYTHING starts to collapse inwards ... so she starts running back out ...

Imogen unleashes her Telekinesis to pull the pillars down quicker, while Ashton burrows in using his Titan form ... it's all just pure confusion ... while the dragon spots her ...

And then Matt calls it a night! Shit! What does that mean? What further madness does he have planned?

[brucesterling]

All the booze in all the gin-joints in this crazy world

Bruce Sterling Jan 22, 2019 9:04 AM

*Boy, they drink a lot in the classic movie "Casablanca." Granted, they've all got plenty to drink about, but gee whiz.

*I tried to keep up while watching. I had to do some research.

“CASABLANCA,” a classic movie set in a number of cafes and bars

Wine – English couple in the opening scene are drinking wine at the outside cafe when robbed by a sly pickpocket.

Cocktail – A desperado is waiting, waiting, waiting and drinks while lamenting that he will never get out of Casablanca.

Cocktail – Man tries to negotiate a passage out of Casablanca.

Wine – Man buys passage on a fishing vessel

Wine – Women trying to get more money for jewels

Cocktail – Englishmen are served by Sascha in Rick’s bar, and toasting cheerio.

Wine – Women gambling at Rick's while drinking

Champagne glass (already empty) – In front of Rick as he is toying with a chess problem

Wine – Ugarte drinks while bargaining with Rick.

Brandy (Boss’s Private Stock) – Sascha serves the good stuff to the spurned Yvonne, because Yvonne is Rick’s private stock.

Brandy – Captain Louis Renault drinks at Rick’s. He's a steady customer, since the bar also has loose women.

Brandy – the Italian Fascist Captain Tonelli drinks while harassed by Lieutenant Casselle in Rick’s.

Brandy – Rick gives some free brandy to Renault in Rick's office.

Veuve Cliquot 1926 – The top French champagne that Renault recommends to Strasser as the Nazi crassly gobbles caviar.

Wine – Ugarte has a glass when arrested

Wine – Resistance member Berger drinks wine at the bar as Laszlo and Ilsa walk into Rick’s.

Cointreaux – Laszlo orders two for himself and Ilsa as their first of many drink orders in Rick’s.

Champagne – Captain Renault orders “a bottle of the best” when invited by Laszlo to join him and Ilsa at their table.

Champagne Cocktail – Laszlo orders one as he joins Berger to conspire at the bar.

Champagne Cocktail – Renault orders for himself and Laszlo at the bar as Berger flees.

Champagne – Renault orders some for Rick when Rick joins the Laszlo party.

Bourbon – Rick drinks American bourbon to console himself for his former mistress Ilsa somehow walking into his gin-joint, of all the gin-joints in the world.

Champagne – Rick opens a bottle of champagne in Ilsa’s flashback room in their happy liaison in Paris.

Wine – Rick and Ilsa drink in Paris at the Cafe Pierre.

Champagne – Rick, Ilsa, and Sam hastily guzzle three bottles of Mumm Cordon Rouge as the Nazis occupy Paris.

“The Bourbon” – Ferrari demands his special bourbon in his own bar, the Blue Parrot, when Rick arrives to negotiate. Somehow, Rick refuses the bourbon, saying he never drinks in the morning.

Wine – The pickpocket toasts another sucker in Rick's before he robs him.

Brandy – Rick is drinking heavily on the second night in his club and Renault joins him for a brandy.

French 75s – The cocktail Yvonne orders when she comes in as the brand-new floozy of a German officer. A “French 75” is an American drink named after a caliber of French artillery in World War One.

Recipe of the “French 75” cocktail 2 oz French cognac 5 oz of chilled champagne 1.5 oz lemon juice 1 tsp. superfine sugar

Champagne – Strasser and fellow German officers are joined by Renault while living it up for the second night in Rick’s.

Brandy – Carl serves brandy to the Leuctags to salute their escape to America.

Brandy – Rick offers brandy to Annina (Bulgarian refugee girl) as she prepares to prostitute herself to Renault to save herself and her husband.

Cognac – Laszlo orders for himself and Ilsa the second night in Rick’s.

Brandy – Rick continues drinking recklessly at his own bar.

Champagne – After the publicly defiant singing of the Marseillaise, Lazslo and the French officers toast the humiliation of the Germans.

Champagne – Ilsa and Rick drink in Rick's room the second night.

Whisky – Rick doses Laszlo with medicinal whisky after Laszlo gets roughed-up while escaping a police crackdown on the Resistance.

Vichy Water – Renault pours himself a non-alcoholic drink of this after Rick has shot Strasser, but in a symbolic act drops Vichy into the trash.

THE END

[gretavangroupie]

Vigilance (Chapter 6)

Word count: 14.1k

Warnings: 18+ as always, drinking, language, fluff, angst, smut, violence.

This story is a very special collaboration with my best pal @gretavanmoon.

HER POV

FEBRUARY 2021

You hit send, delivering the new hire paperwork to your new boss from the comfort of your brand new apartment. The final class of your degree and your advisor was able to help set you up to accept an internship at Collective Artist Management. The company you had your eye on for months. You had set up email alerts last fall hoping to see the listing for an intern come up, and on that lonely New Years Day you saw the job posting. You applied immediately knowing there would likely be hundreds of people desperate for the opportunity. 

You spoke to your advisor about it, and somehow she knew someone and the internship was suddenly yours. The only stipulation being that you would finish out your degree and move to Nashville, Tennessee. A city you had never been to, with no friends, no family and no sense of comfort. But maybe this was the fresh start you needed, still haunted by the ghosts living in your hometown. 

Things with Jake never got better, never seeing him again after that fateful day. Never even speaking about it. He left for tour and you left for school. All there was was silence. Your heart broke into a million pieces. You thought you'd be with him forever. Funny how life takes your plans and turns them inside out. 

You dreaded each holiday spent at home, knowing there would be a chance they would all be there. But to your surprise they never were. Three Thanksgivings passed with empty place mats, Christmas came and went each year, never to see any of their smiling faces. They had moved on from this life and had started anew. Sam kept in touch the first few months after you and Jake ended things, but eventually he dropped off too. You tried not to take it personally, knowing that they were onto bigger and better things, but you still felt that pang of sadness not only of losing Jake, but losing your best friend too.

For a while you would watch them through social media. Watch them tour, watch them live out the dream they always told you they would. But at a certain point it started to do more harm than good. So, you did what you had to do and you blocked them. All of them. It hurt and you hated it but you couldn’t bear it anymore. They changed. You changed. You weren’t in their orbit anymore. It was easier to not know, than to know anything at all.

So you put your head into the books, burying yourself in your classes, soaking up every bit of knowledge you could. Ending each semester with perfect grades and the years breezing by. You always imagined yourself in Los Angeles or maybe even New York. Never Nashville. But again, life has a funny way of skewing your plans, so here you found yourself. A new city with new people, wishing and hoping that maybe you would be able to fill the hole in your heart with new friends and new lovers. Leaving the past behind you, as much as it hurt. 

—

The first week of your internship was spent going over everything crucial to know in the job. Where to be, where not to be and who you should and should not talk to. You learned about the labels you worked with, labels you no longer worked with and you met your boss, Allison. 

You would be working as an Artist Liaison Intern. A long fancy title for unpaid coffee runner, and fulltime errand girl. In reality you would be helping coordinate flights, travel visas, help schedule cars and bus transportation, even help plan parties. There were really no limits on this job title and you were more than thrilled to be working with Collective. You knew after your first year of college that you wanted to work in music. Work with bands and artists like the ones you grew up with. While it hurt to think that they helped pave this path for you, you thought that maybe the pain of it all was just the universe pushing you towards the life you were destined to have. 

Your boss Allison started each day with a checklist of what needed to get done, and then would delegate tasks to you. Recently they had all been tasks that would eventually come together to build the pieces of the Label Release Party. A party for all of the bands and artists releasing new albums in the coming year for that particular label. The client for this quarter's party was UMG.

You were handed a binder of information from the last party and began to delve into the specifics of what exactly needed to get done. Each day was spent alongside Allison and her team building the foundation of this party taking place in just two months. Over 30 artists would be there, and UMG had no budget, so you and the team almost had full reign over the entirety of the party.

The nights were long and the interns from other departments became the new friends you were hoping for all along. Dragging you to bars after work each night, drinking away the stress of each day. You were beginning to feel happy here in this new city. Happy with your new friends, and happy with the life you were building for yourself. Allison had mentioned the possibility of the internship turning into a full time position more than once so you were sure to be on your ‘A’ game at all times, really hoping that you wouldn't have to leave at the end of all of this. 

As the date of the party drew nearer, so did the anxiety. Was everything perfect? Would the label be happy? Couple that with the stress of your impending Graduation and you were borderline losing it. Allison seemed more than happy with your work and with the party only a few days away, everything began to fall into place exactly as you hoped it would.

—-

APRIL 2021

Smoothing your black dress out with your palms, you look yourself over in your full length mirror one last time before rushing out the door. You wobble down the stairs in your heels and make quick strides to your car. As you put the key in the ignition you slide your heels off and throw them into the passenger seat. You back out of the parking space and try to remember to take deep breaths. Everything you had worked for was banking on tonight. The fate of your job was banking on this. One slip up could make or break you, and you would be damned if you let another good thing get away.

Your heels clacked loudly against the tile floor of the lobby. The label had insisted on the party being hosted somewhere ‘cool and hip’ so when Allison suggested The Blue Room at Third Man Studios they were instantly sold. It was large enough to hold a crowd but intimate enough to feel exclusive. As you stepped into the main space you saw all the decorations and all of the things you had been preparing come to life. The signs, the food, the table placement… everything was perfect.

Allison rushed over as soon as she saw you, frantic with her hands full of paperwork. “We have an hour until artists start showing up. Do you have the flash drive?” she asks.

“Of course, it’s in my bag. I got it from Hazel this morning.” You say handing her the small metal drive.

“Thank god, you’re a lifesaver. I really couldn’t have done all of this without you.” she says, accepting it and walking off, before turning to look over her shoulder. “By the way, the job is yours, welcome to the team.”

Your jaw dropped and she smiled and walked away rushing off to the sound booth. You did it.

You spent much of the evening on cloud nine, running around tending to the needs of the guests and helping with catering and even at the bar. The slideshow went off without a hitch and the artists seemed more than happy with the display the team had procured for each one of them. You watched in awe as each artist flashed across the screen, standing to be recognized. As it reached the final few artists a name flashed across the screen that almost took your breath away. The single from the impending album played in the background as the slide read ‘Greta Van Fleet’. 

You’re sure the blood drained from your face as you nervously scanned the room looking for the guys and their representation. In the far left corner of the room you saw Josh, standing with his drink accepting the applause the crowd gave him. He looked so different since the last time you saw him. Granted it had been almost three years since you blocked them all, never once searching them or the band knowing it would send you back to square one. Hearing their new music playing now was the first you had heard them in years. Josh’s voice had matured and their sound had become rock solid. They truly did make it. The guitar playing sent a shock right to your heart though, reminding you that you could very well be in the same room as him right now. You scanned the table where Josh sat but found only him. Part of you was thankful that it was only him but the other part of you felt punched in the gut at the stupid hopefulness you felt. 

As your eyes fixate on Josh, you quickly realize that if he sees you he will want to talk so you tear your eyes away hoping to keep a low profile for the rest of the night. You keep your head low working at the bar and keeping to yourself, that is until Allison found you, pulling you away from your quiet task.

“Want to go meet some of the people you will be working with? Wait, you want the job right?” she asks.

“Of course I do! Yes!” you reply eagerly. 

“Then let's go!” she says pulling you behind her. 

She ushers you around the room, introducing you to executives, co-workers you hadn’t met yet, and even a few artists you’d be working with. Your head was spinning as you tried to process all the new information coming in while simultaneously keeping an eye out for Josh, doing your damndest to avoid him.

After a few hours people began to slowly filter out and you started to collect empty place settings and pack the nameplates back into the little box you plucked them from. Feeling like the coast was clear you slipped your heels off as you worked paying no mind to the few guests still lingering near the bar. 

You heard the doors open to the room and you saw the familiar fluff of curls cross the room, back to the table he was previously seated at, scanning over it before grabbing his keys. As you watched him, his eyes flicked upward meeting yours.

You look away quickly hoping he wouldn’t recognize you, but you kick yourself because it’s Josh, and you knew he would. He inevitably makes his way over to you, rushing, pushing chairs out of the way in order to get to you as quickly as possible.

“Y/N?” he questions, as he stands in front of you. 

You turn slowly to face him, as you nod. “Hi, Josh.”

Expecting to be met with anger or resentment you furrow your brow waiting for his next words, but instead of that you are met with a beaming smile.

“Oh my god, it is you. I…I thought it was you earlier, but I couldn’t tell. I convinced myself that it couldn’t be. I… Oh my god, how are you? What are you doing here?” he asks, shocked.

“Well…I kind of live here now. I work for Collective Artist Management.” you say nervously. “I graduate next month.”

His hand reaches out and lands on your arm, and you smile to yourself. Typical Josh, always touching. “Y/N, that is amazing! You fucking did it, huh!” he says gripping your arm. “You live here? In Nashville?”

“Yeah, I moved here at the end of January, beginning of February… something like that. Been working and trying to meet new people and get to know my new city.” you reply.

“How did we end up in the same city again?” he laughs, a sound you have sorely missed. 

A smile strung across your face at the sound, bringing back the memories you have tried so hard to bury deep inside your brain. He pulls his phone from his pocket, and taps the screen a few times before flashing it to you. “Is this still your number?” he asks.

You examine the screen seeing your name and the emojis you selected all those years ago, still sitting peacefully next to it. “Yep, that’s me.” you reply.

“Good, can we uh… can I text you? Maybe we can get drinks tomorrow or something?” he asks.

“Yeah, that would be fine. I’m sure I have a lot to catch up on.” you laugh. 

A giggle leaves his chest as he replies, “Yeah, just a bit. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Yep, talk to you then.” you say, before being pulled into his chest for a hug. As his arms wrap around your neck you catch a whiff of him, and you are instantly catapulted back to a time you have tried so hard to forget. 

He releases you and walks away shoving his hands in his pockets tossing you a smile over his shoulder.

Your mind is positively reeling, you had no idea that he lived in Nashville. Where were the others? When did they move here? Obviously they had made it pretty big if they were signed with UMG…

As the night wrapped up and you drove yourself home you let your mind wander down those old dusty paths you had roped off for so long. You thought of Sam and your last conversation with him about Elle. How things weren’t going too well and things were only getting harder. 

You thought of Danny and Josh and the last time you heard them play. But mostly you thought of Jake and how you left things, broken and beyond repair.

As you showered the night off of you, you thought some more, wondering if meeting Josh for drinks was a good idea. Not sure if you wanted to reopen those old wounds. Though the more you thought about it, years had passed. You had changed. He had clearly changed, filling out more and carrying himself more authentically. You felt compelled to know this new Josh so you decided you would go, and you would leave the past behind you. 

—-

The text from Josh came in the early afternoon, startling you from your book.

Josh: Fable Lounge at 8?

You: See you then!

You rifled through your closet for what had to be an hour. What the hell do you wear to meet up with an old friend in a new city? At a swanky bar nonetheless? Your bed was littered with different items of clothing strewn about, a pile for maybe, a pile for no, a pile for absolutely not. After a half hour of madness, you finally decided on some tight jeans with a black tank and green bomber jacket. You let your hair hang naturally, it had grown quite long, and you decided to let your natural waves be. Simple makeup and some winged eyeliner, and you were out the door. 

Thankfully, Josh was already at the bar when you arrived, having a casual conversation with the bartender pouring his drink. You walked up and took the stool to his right, trying to take him by surprise.

“Heyyyy, there she is!” He brought you in for a hug. “It’s so good seeing a familiar face in town. Whatcha drinking tonight?”

“Rum and Coke” you reply.

He nods his head to the bartender and he begins to make it. The two of you sat, drank, and laughed, catching up on each other's lives. After a round or two, you felt your body begin to relax. 

“Don’t have anyone steady in your life?” he asked, sipping from the side of his glass. 

“No, nothing serious.” You suddenly became shy, and he knew why. “Things just haven’t felt right...in a while. Ya know?”

“Do I know?” He asked from the side of his mouth. 

You sighed heavily. “Of course you know, Josh. You’ve always known.” you reply.

He smiled his know-it-all smile, “Hmm... Well… maybe you’ve found yourself back in the right place again.” He smirked, and lightly clinked his glass to yours. The blood drained from your face. What on earth did that mean?

You heard the door open behind you, catching Josh’s attention as a smile played upon his lips. Turning to see what he was looking at, the blood drained from your face. Oh. My god. In walked Danny, Sam, Jake, and…a girl. On Jake’s arm. 

“SURPRISE! Look who I found!” Josh moved his stool to reveal you, as all of their jaws dropped simultaneously. 

“Josh, what the fuck!” You said quietly in his ear, gritting your teeth through a fake smile. 

Rounds of hugs came quickly from Sam and Danny, while Jake and the mystery girl stayed quietly far enough away that they didn’t feel the need to partake in your greetings. 

Sam immediately made his way over to your barstool. You inhaled a quick breath to prepare yourself for this. You spun the swivel stool and faced him. What you came face to face with wasn't at all what you expected. 

He was taller, had filled out a bit, and god damn, he was absolutely gorgeous. His hair was a bit longer, rested below his shoulders, and was finger-tousled. His skin seemed to glow, especially in this lighting. It looked so soft, you had to stop yourself from reaching out to touch it. He had just a little bit of dark peach fuzz around his lips and chin that countered the silken look of his skin, but it suited him well. His eyes, though. They hadn’t changed. Deep brown, sanpaku shaped, and they still squinted into little half moons when he smiled too hard. Which he did, the second you turned to face him. 

“Y/N?! Are you kidding me?! What are you doing here? With Josh, nonetheless!” He shoved Josh’s shoulder from behind, causing him to choke a little on the drink he was swallowing. 

“Why didn’t you tell me we had an old friend in town?!” Sam asked him without taking his eyes off of you. 

His fucking smile.

He was grinning ear to ear, genuinely happy to see you. His perfectly straight and white teeth sat behind his gorgeous lips. You always envied the hell out of his smile. 

Before you could speak, he was lifting you off the stool into a giant bear hug that felt more like a back-cracking than a formal hello. He set you back down to your feet and you gathered yourself, flustered by his newfound confidence. 

“Surprise? I guess?” You returned his beaming smile, and you felt him lower his head and catch your eyes, taking you all in. In another unexpected instance, you found his hand on yours, lifting it to spin you around. When you had done your full turn, he met your gaze again. 

“You look spectacular. Haven’t changed a bit,” he said with a knowing wink. 

But, you had changed. Though you had long since lost your freshman 15, you had gained it back in all the right places, finally forming into the full shape of a grown woman. You’d let your hair grow, and decided to change up your style a bit. New city, new you, of course. 

Sam took the bar stool next to you, leaving the rest of his group behind. You cleared your throat, mind flashing with dread as you caught Jake in your peripheral, sitting three stools down. Thankfully Josh and Danny separated the two of you. Sam motioned to the bartender and ordered a tequila soda. Next, his elbow was on the bar, head leaning into his hand, looking directly at you. You downed the rest of your drink as you met his gaze. 

“What the hell are you doing here, Y/N?” He said quietly through a giant smile. 

“Well, my internship brought me here, actually. Remember I was in school? I majored in Music Management and Marketing, so I took an internship and I’ve been working at Collective Artist Management learning how the logistics of the industry work.” you say proudly.

You sipped hard on your skinny straw, getting nothing but watered-down rum. “I basically buy plane tickets, help plan tours and throw big parties for a living now. Anyways, we hosted UMG’s new release party the other night. And, lo and behold, I ran into Josh. Well, he ran into me. We got to talking… He invited me out for drinks. But- he failed to tell me he was bringing the whole family. I didn’t even know you guys lived here.” You rolled your eyes to the side to look toward Josh, but he didn’t hear you. 

“That’s amazing. Leave it to the universe. So, you’re living here now?” His gaze was dreamy and intense, like he was hanging on your every word. He folded the straw in half over the lip of his glass, and sipped it from the side. 

“Yeah. For now, at least.” You grinned at him, and he returned it. 

The drinks continued to flow, and the conversation did too. Danny had made his way over to you, embracing you in one of his all-too-familiar bear hugs and it felt like no time had passed at all. Josh told 5 or 6 stories, Danny announced that he was finally going to purchase his dream guitar tomorrow, and Sam explained, in detail, all the restaurants you just had to try as soon as humanly possible. 

Jake…and the girl, Sophia, you learned….stayed put in their seats, adding very little to the conversation, and never once giving you the greeting everyone else did. 

“Shots?! Anyone want a shot? Let’s do shots.” Classic Samuel. He clapped his hands together, successfully signaling the bartender. Your face was now well on its way to feeling warm and numb from the liquor, and you threw your head back in aggravated laughter. The bar had gotten significantly more crowded, and the atmosphere was heady. 

“Sam, I have to get up tomorrow!” You objected while the bartender lined up the shot glasses. 

“Yeah, at what, 11am? You’ll be fine, don't be a baby.” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes. What was this, high school again? 

“Besides, we’re celebrating! It’s a reunion!” He slapped the bar top candidly. 

The six of you crowded into a small circle and raised the tiny glasses into the air. You ever so briefly made eye contact with Jake from across the circle, and he looked away as soon as your eyes could focus. 

“To new memories and old friends, may we be ever compliant with what time throws toward us, and may we accept with grace and dignity!” Josh bellowed, slightly slurry. Everyone clinked glasses and downed the warm liquor. You welcomed it, though these people felt like home, you couldn’t have felt more out of place. 

You turned back to the bar, wiping your mouth of the droplets that had escaped your lips. Sam joined you in his original seat. His eyes were locked onto the side of your face and you almost felt them burning holes into the side of your skull. 

“What, Samuel?” You said sharply through a tight smile. 

He smiled a curt half smile, his eyes hooded but confident. “Let’s get out of here.” He nodded his head toward the door. You might have choked on your spit if you had been a tad bit more drunk. Your eyebrows raised in shock. 

“What? L-like...leave? You and-” you motioned to yourself and him, questioning if you had heard him right. 

“I hate this fuckin bar. It’s too uptown for me. Not my style, ya know?” Sam said, standing up and pulling out his wallet. “I know someplace else that is more our speed.” 

You were speechless, unsure of what to say. But you were well on your way to being more than tipsy, feeling just right, on the brink of confidence overtaking your personality. What the hell, right? You could afford to learn about a few new bars in town, and you were with your best friend. Well, old best friend. And the man at the other end of the bar couldn’t seem to care less if he spoke to you tonight or not. Not that you cared. 

After Sam paid his bill and yours, which you didn’t object to out of old habit, he clinked the pen closed and replaced his wallet. “Let’s go!”

In a rush of hands whisking you from your chair, the two of you were quickly pacing toward the door, hand in hand. 

“See you guys later, we’re going to get into some trouble. Get the bail money ready, bitches!” Sam hollered to his brothers still seated at the bar. 

You didn’t know what to add except a quick shrug and a passing wave of goodbye. You met Jake’s eyes as Sam pulled you past, and the look on his face was unreadable. Pissed? Maybe. Sad, confused, silent.

The outside air was enough to sober you up and make you feel more drunk all at once. The two of you paced down the sidewalk quickly; your arm tucked under Sam’s. 

“Where are we going?” You pressed. 

“A fun place. Don’t worry about it.” His hair was blowing in the chilled air, and his face was as happy as you remembered it to always be. Carefree Sammy, always so eloquently unbothered by anything. 

As you walked into the next bar, you were met with a darker, more relaxed atmosphere. The place was small, and instantly felt cozy. Wooden walls, a lava lamp on the bar, plastic chairs at the tables, and a jukebox on the far wall. Ah, yes. Definitely more your speed. 

“Rum and coke?” Sam asked as you approached the bar. 

“Yes please.” you responded. 

The night continued on, the two of you laughing, sharing old stories, getting significantly more intoxicated…but neither of you daring to touch on the subject that was lingering in the air. 

Honestly, you didn’t want to bring it up. You knew it would happen sooner or later, but time had passed. Things had changed. People had moved on. You were adults now. And you were enjoying yourself, things were light and airy and giggly with your old friend again. It felt like old times. Cheerful, breezy, nostalgic. Sam brought about an air of peace that you had so missed. 

“I can’t buhlieve my old friends are FAYYYMOUS!” you raised your voice overtop of the old rock song playing from the jukebox, hand landing on Sam’s knee. 

He looked at you a little sideways. 

“Have you really not kept up with our music, Y/N?” He acted a little offended. “We’ve toured the world, released two albums...we kinda uh, won a Grammy...” he laughed through the last word. 

Your eyes widened and your stomach flipped. How could you tell him that you’ve been actively ignoring and going out of your way to block out every word involving their band name on your social media? How could you explain that seeing their faces on your screen or hearing them play in your car brought back such sickening memories that it put you in depressive episodes for days?

Even seeing them here, now, in the flesh made you feel so uneasy it was hard to think straight. 

“I heard one of your songs playing in the grocery store once.” You swallowed hard. “Safari Song, I think? It was wild, just minding my own business, picking through the fruit bins, listening to my old best friends play on the radio in a super public setting.” 

He was silent. 

“I knew you guys had made it, but honestly, I...kind of… Don’t seek you out. It really just…hurts? Kind of. I don’t know. After everything.” you stammer.

Sam placed his hand on your knee and leaned forward. “No, I get it. I really do. It would be strange. But, hopefully one day you’ll come to a show. Let us show off for you a little bit?” He smiled a cheesy smile. 

You half cocked a smile back, and put a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah! Maybe one day.”

You knew going to see them play would be absolutely mind blowing. Watching their fans go nuts, hearing their new music and how they’ve grown as musicians, watching Jake. Your stomach felt sick at the thought. 

When the night was growing toward a close, and the bar had begun to empty, you and Sam found yourselves two of the only few people left at the bar, heavily and drunkenly engaged in a game of quarter bounce. You’d had a blast with him this evening, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed how the neon was glowing off of his skin, radiating and accentuating his perfectly developed features. 

Or how sexy it looked when he pulled his hair back into a low bun when the game got intense, a few strands falling into his face…You sincerely flushed when he kissed you on the cheek after making three quarters in a row. He beamed with contentment, comfort, warmth. Never letting the smile fall from his face the whole night. He was being his goofy self, making you laugh until your stomach muscles hurt, but all the while you found yourself intensely and overwhelmingly attracted to him. For the first time you saw him. Not his brother. 

“You cheated! That’s not fair!” He practically yelled. “You don’t get three chances, it’s in the rule book!”

“What rule book, Sam? The rule book doesn’t exist!” You slurred through hearty giggles, knowing well and good that you had in fact, cheated. 

He walked over to you slowly, taking his pointer finger and playfully poking you in random spots across your face. You tried to swat him away, to no avail. 

“Cheater!”  *poke* 

“Cheater!”  *poke* 

“Pumpkin!” *poke*

“EATER!” he taunted.

You grabbed his hand to pull it from your face, he knew he was pissing you off. He sturdied his arm, which in turn pulled your whole body into him. You suddenly found yourselves chest to chest, faces impossibly close. 

His nose bumped yours, and normally you would back off, feeling awkward and embarrassed. But his eyes darted down to your lips, and back up to your eyes. Your lips were mere centimeters from his. You could feel his breath, warm and heavy, exhaling lightly onto your partially parted lips. His eyes traveled slowly back down to your lips, and you felt his sturdied arm relax. Your heart began to pound in your ears. You’ve never been this close to Sam before. His hand was still on yours, and without moving his face away, he turned your hand into his, and interlaced your fingers. You swallowed hard, tasting the essence of his tequila on your tongue. 

“I don’t like pumpkin.” was all you could whisper before his lips were crashing onto yours in the most heated, yet cautious way. His lips were warm and soft, and he let out a small exhale through his nose at the contact. God, your stomach fell straight to the floor; he felt so sweet. You felt his body relax, and his fingers tighten around yours. After a few seconds of exhilaration, you parted, the both of you darting your eyes back and forth between each others. Each of you exploded into lighthearted and drunken giggles. He let your hand go, and you stood, taking all of him in with your eyes. 

“I love pumpkin,” he said through a chuckle. 

——

A ten minute walk down the sidewalk, and a short but exhausting trek down side streets found you and Sam approaching his front door. A little bungalow of a place tucked away from the main part of whatever neighborhood you were in. You were still sufficiently intoxicated, probably more so than you truly needed to be. But you were high on the night, on the festivities, and on Sam’s lips. You suddenly felt all your inhibitions melting into the ground below you. 

“This is me,” he said, fumbling with the keys as he unlocked the door. When you got inside, he walked over to a tiny lamp and switched it on, sending a light orange glow into the small but spacious area. You kicked off your shoes and hung your jacket on a chair. You made your way to his couch. You plopped down and let it begin to relax you. 

“Another drink, or some water?” He asked lovingly. 

“How about both?” You replied. 

“Excellent choice.” he smiled, disappearing to the kitchen.

He returned promptly with two glasses full of some type of iced amber liquid and two bottles of water. 

“Cheers,” he mumbled quietly as he sat down next to you on the couch. 

“Cheers, Sammy.” you smiled.

Your head was spinning. From the alcohol, from the kiss, from seeing Jake’s brand new face after so long of not seeing him every day. 

The kiss. Your drunken state brought the memory of what happened just now at the bar, amplified, back to the forefront of your mind. You sipped from the glass, then chugged some water. For the second time tonight, you felt Sam’s eyes boring into the side of your face. You slowly turned to look at him. Your face went hot when you met his sultry gaze. Good god, he was so beautiful. Even more so, now, in his matured state and in this dim lighting. You felt your heart flutter. 

“Yeeees?” You teased. 

Sam rested his head on the back of the couch. His breath hitched.  “I’m gonna ask you a question, Y/N. And I need you to answer honestly.”

That shouldn’t be too hard, as the alcohol had given you quite the air of confidence, suddenly at just the perfect spot of leaving you feeling like you had no filter.

He put his head down, and was toying with a frayed string on his shirt. “Did you- ever? Umm... Did you ever feel anything for-” 

He was stumbling over his words. You raised your head to look at him with more attention, brows furrowing trying to show him that you were listening. 

He huffed. “Did you ever love me, y/n?” Your name rolled off his tongue effortlessly, like he’d spoken it one million times, because in reality, he had. 

Your eyes widened. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. 

“I know you loved me, but... I felt so strongly for you for so many years, but I never had the guts to tell you. I was too-” he cut off his words again. You felt like you may pass out at his confession. He stared up at the ceiling, letting his words finally fall. 

“You were my absolute best friend. Like, even more so than my brothers or Daniel. It was different with you. I could tell you anything and you’d never pick on me or judge me. I trusted you with my secrets. And I think you trusted me with yours.” he said.

He reached down to grab your hand once again, interlacing your fingers like you had at the bar. “I always thought, you know, one day I’ll do it, I’ll get the balls to tell her. Then- everything happened...” he stammered off, both of your brains revisiting a dark place that you’d had tucked away in the very deepest crevices of your brain. 

He turned to look at you now. 

“I think I always knew about you and Jake. Even before he told me. At the time, I don’t think I did. But looking back now, I think I knew it. In my bones, ya know? I just kept lying to myself because I always thought it’d be you and me in the end.” 

You felt a tear fall directly from your eye and onto your chest. He gingerly brought his hand up to your face and wiped it away. 

“After all this time, and even after Elle and our careers and everything getting busy and taking off..I think I realized that I’m not in love with you anymore. I finally feel…like I can break myself free of the chains you held me in for so many years.” He smiled, his words weren’t meant to hurt you, just let you know.  “I think I finally fell away from you, y/n. And it feels…” 

“It feels what, Sammy?” You asked through another tear. 

He huffed again. 

“Huh, I dunno. Liberating? If that’s the word.” He laughed a little. You couldn’t help but smile. You turned and wiped your tears away, letting out a choppy sigh. 

“Dammit, Sam. You made me emotional.” you said, laughing at yourself. You rolled your head back again. You allowed a few moments to pass, silently. 

“No.” You said, finally. 

“No what?” he asks.

You paused, collecting your words. “I never loved you like that.”

Sam took a deep and quick breath through his teeth, readjusting himself on the couch. “I didn’t think so.” 

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, taking turns sipping your drinks and exchanging looks. 

“So, now that we’ve established that we aren’t in love with each other, want to talk about that sweet little kiss at the bar?” Sam said in his normal cheeky tone. You realized you were still holding hands. His thumb was lightly massaging the back of your hand. It felt like pure electricity. 

“Honestly Sam, I don’t want to talk about it.” You answered. You took the last bit of your drink, and placed the glass on the coffee table. You took his drink from his hand, and placed it next to yours. You moved your body so that you were able to throw your leg over top of his, and bring yourself to carefully sit on his lap, facing him. 

“I just…kind of want to kiss you again.” you said quietly in a questioning tone, watching his face closely to gauge his reaction. Of course, his eyes widened, and the look on his face was hilarious. Pure and utter surprise. His head lulled back against the couch, and once your words and action had settled in his mind, he put on that seductively shy smile. 

“Do you, now? I thought we didn’t have feelings for each other?” he peeked at you through one eye, hands beginning to grip tightly on your thighs. 

“We don’t. But that doesn’t mean I don’t find you…attractive.” you twirled a piece of his hair between your fingers. The silky brown strands, thick and plush.

“I’ve always found you attractive, y/n. Caught my eye the first day I saw you.” His hands were squeezing harder now, moving slowly from your straddled knees up to your upper thighs. 

“Gorgeous from the get go. All the guys in school fawning over you.” He continued intermittently squeezing the thickness of your thighs, eyes scanning over your whole body as if he was committing every inch to memory.

“Guys coming up to me to see if they could ask you out...as if I’d have any problem with it.” His thumbs had now inched impossibly close to your heat, gripping the fold where your legs met your hips. He dug the pads of his thumbs into your groin, eliciting the tiniest sound to escape your lips.

“Everyone wanted you...but you were mine…my best friend. I can’t tell you how many times I had to stop myself from sneaking you away into the basement…” his hands were still working your muscle at a sickening pace, thumbs rubbing small circles close, but not close enough. 

“But I must say, when I saw you at the bar tonight…” his hands moved from your thighs to your ass, gently but tightly squeezing. “…I knew I wasn’t going to be able to take my eyes off of you for the rest of the night.” His voice had grown low and gravely. His normal frivolous attitude had shifted into something darker and more sinister, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t absolutely craving seeing more of this side of him. 

“Of course I was always attracted to you too, Sam. I mean, God, look at you.” He shied away at your words, a rosy blush filling his cheeks. “Watching you play your guitar was always my favorite. Everyone knows you as the bass player, but I always knew you could do both. Talented at both.” You brought your forehead to rest on his.

“You fell into another world when you played. Played anything, really. So talented. I always caught myself having to drag my eyes away from your hands...” you found his hand and intertwined your fingers again. “Just because I didn’t have the same feelings for you then, doesn’t mean that I never wanted to…do this.” your voice trailed off, sticky and full of lust. 

You brought your hands to his face, tracing his beautiful cheekbones with your thumbs. You weren’t sure what had come over you. Curiosity, mostly, and drunken and immense attraction to this man in front of you. Your mind flashed with every warning sign and inhibition it could to stop you from doing this- your friendship with Sam, everything with Andy, the fight, Jake….

You worked to ignore every single red flag your body was throwing at you, and to just go with what felt right right now. 

And what felt right was kissing Sam again. 

So you did. 

This time, it was slow and mellow, testing the waters and seeing how he felt. You slowly moved your lips across his, sweetly taking your time and allowing for this strange adjustment. You pulled away to catch his eyes, and in seconds, he had his hands back on your waist, harshly pulling you closer toward him, and down onto his hardening length in his jeans.

Oh.

He found your lips again, and parted his slightly to allow you more access. You took the opportunity, and deepened the kiss, lightly flicking your tongue across his lips, testing the uncharted waters. He met your tongue with his, and damned if he didn’t taste sweet. Your hands found his hair, and tangled into the roots, which only spurred him on. Your brain was flipping and flying everywhere at once, but you liked it. 

He tightened his grip on your waist again, and dug his thumbs into your sides, eliciting a sharp breath from you. You parted, meeting eyes. You both began to laugh, and again, you rested your forehead on his. 

“This is...weird.” you said. 

“Yep. Very weird.” He parroted back. Suddenly he was lifting you from his lap and laying you down on your back on the couch. He climbed to lay on top of you, and what began as innocent explorative kissing quickly shifted into a heated, frenzied makeout session. Your kisses became raw and wanting, you were both fighting for control as you let your instincts take over. 

He was an excellent kisser, and you took advantage of that. All four hands were gripping and fighting and pulling, trying to find any kind of purchase that may assist in getting each other undressed. The sounds he was making were causing you to absolutely pool with desire for him. You were both panting and sweating at this point. Both of you unsure what step to take next. Cautious, flustered, embarrassed… But wholeheartedly comfortable and yearning for him. And him for you. 

“Sam,” you asked. 

“Y/N” he answered. 

“Will you umm, take my shirt off?”

Without another word, he was lifting himself off of you and removing your shirt above your head. You realized he had never seen you in a bra before. His eyes were blown out with lust just from looking at you, and seeing him look at you that way ignited something in your chest. 

You felt a strange and wanting passion burning, one that felt uninhibited and carnal. For Sam. With Sam. Your best friend. Why did all of this feel so good?

You decided to go with your gut. You were both consenting adults, just looking for a little fun. What did you have to lose? 

SAM POV

Jesus Christ, what is happening right now? Am I dreaming?

She looked absolutely stunning in nothing but her bra. A pretty little maroon lace thing. You gave her a smile and a look of admiration, hoping that she didn’t feel any kind of shyness toward you. 

You’ve wanted this for so long, so many years. You thought it was never going to happen. Especially after so much time being apart, but look where the universe has landed you.

“You’re really gorgeous, y/n. Seriously.” you implore.

You were returned a sweet smile. “Thank you, Sammy.” 

Her smile made your heart melt. “Can I take yours off?”

“Mmhm, absolutely babe.” She sat up and grasped the shoulders of your tee shirt, pulling up and taking the shirt off. She let it fall to the floor. Her eyes raked over your torso, sparkling slightly in the moody light. Beautiful. 

As you took in the sight of her upper half, you noticed something. Right on her ribs. A tattoo. 

“What’s that? I never knew you had a tattoo..” you asked. 

“Oh yeah...I got that a really long time ago. On a whim-” she tried to push the subject away. 

“It’s a constellation, right? Stars…oh it’s the Little Dipper.” you eyebrows furled. 

What? Where had you seen this before? Old images fluttered through your mind.

Shit…Jake’s guitar. His carvings.

You lifted your head to speak, to ask her if it was a tattoo for Jake. Did he have the same one? She cut you off before you could ask. 

“It’s a long story...for another time, Sam.”

You decided to leave it at that. 

She made her way on top of you again now, in the original straddled position. “Hm, you like it here, huh?” You joked, and began peppering her jawline with tiny kisses. She let her head fall back, giving you access to her neck, and you swore you could have taken her right then and there. 

Her skin was so soft, and tasted so sweet. And the floral smell of her hair was making your head spin. She cawed a little bit at your touch, which enticed you to bring your hands, ever so carefully, to her breasts. You gave them a small squeeze, and bravely slipped your hands underneath the bra, gently massaging, keeping your mouth on her pressure points. 

She inhaled sharply at the new sensation, and gave the prettiest little moan, spurring you on again. You found her nipples, and gently twisted them between your fingers. That, she loved. 

“Shhhhit Sam,” she groaned, then backed away and looked directly into your eyes. In seconds her mouth was attached to yours, bringing back the intense kissing from moments ago. These kisses were deep, forceful, and intentional. Your tongues were wrestling, exploring each other’s mouths as your hands began to haphazardly grab anything and everything. You mewled into her mouth as she grabbed a fistful of hair on the back of your head, pulling it back to look at her as she craned over you. She grinded her hips down onto you again, making the need for her all the more difficult to bear. Both of you were insanely starved for one another. 

You decided it was time to move. You couldn’t wait any longer, and you had barely done anything but land one foot on second base. You grabbed underneath her thighs, standing and lifting her with you. She giggled. You met eyes again, this time with a question written on your face. Her arms were wrapped around your neck, hands lightly massaging the back of your head. 

“Can I take you in my room?” You asked, more confidently than you anticipated. 

Her eyelids were half open, her hair a mess, anticipation dripping from her aura. 

“Please,” was all she stated. 

You walked her down the short hallway into the back bedroom; you were thankful it wasn’t too messy in there. Not like she would care anyway. She never did. 

There was only the significantly bright moonlight coming through the windows, and you decided to not turn on the lamp. The pale blue light was already illuminating her skin in the most beautiful way. You gently set her down on the bed, never breaking from her kiss. She began to scoot herself backwards up the bed, you crawling overtop of her, following her lead. When she found herself in a position she was satisfied with, she settled a little bit and broke away. 

“Can we get under the covers?” She asked. You smiled knowing you’d give her anything in the world right now. 

“Sure, we can,” you replied. “Are you cold?”

“Kinda, just want to feel comfy.” She responded breathlessly. You stood from the bed and reached under her to pull the comforter down. Before crawling underneath, she made a show of unbuttoning her jeans, and pulling them and her panties all the way off. Good god. 

You followed suit, undoing your belt and letting your pants and underwear hit the floor. You crawled in next to her, heart pounding, mouth dry, and skin absolutely on fire with want for her. Condom? Yes, in the drawer. Got it. 

For a minute, the two of you laid in complete darkness save for the blue light barely tinting the room. Your faces were close, your breathing steady but labored from the intensity of the past half hour. You couldn’t quite see her face in the darkness, but somehow, it made it all the more alluring. Maybe it was better to have one of your senses muddled, it would also help with the anxiety you felt rushing through your bloodstream. I can’t believe this is actually happening. You ran your fingers lightly over her arm, down her side and back up to her face, bringing a sense of intimacy back after the shift. 

“You okay with doing this?” She asked shyly. 

“I’m absolutely okay with doing this.” You maneuvered to roll her to her back, resting on your elbows on either side of her head, face to face. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, y/n, but my feelings for you have drifted. They’re almost gone, actually...please don’t take that as anything malicious. I’m still very much in love with the person that you are. You’re one of the most important people in my life, even if the last time we saw each other we left on a…less than high note.” You breathed, long and heavy.  “Life’s short, I don’t have any ill feelings toward you. The past is in the past. You’re one of the only people I’ve ever had in my life that I’m completely comfortable with. And to be completely honest, I’ve felt very comfortable learning about you in…this...way…so far…so if you’re okay with it, I’d really like to fuck you senseless.” 

She burst out with laughter, covering her face through deep belly laughs. “God, I missed your dumb ass.” She playfully slapped you across the arm. “I feel the same, Sammy. This doesn’t have to be that serious. Just two friends making each other feel good.”

“Exactly.” And you meant it. The only feelings you felt for her right now were lust. Respectful, platonic, gorgeous lust. 

“Alright then, come fuck me senseless Sammy.” 

You laughed as you dipped down, laying a hot, wet kiss right between her breasts. You landed a few more right beneath the swells, unintentionally finding a sensitive spot. Her back arched. 

“Mmm...I plan on it, babe. But first…”

You then drug your tongue right down the center of her chest and stomach, tracing her sternum down to between her hips. 

She hummed with surprised anticipation, instinctively running her hands through your hair to pull the strands back that had fallen from the hair tie. 

You slowly began to run your tongue along the outsides of her lips, teasing her. She groaned a sound that you didn’t recognize. 

“Too personal?” you asked, half joking, half truly wanting permission. 

“You really think I’m going to turn this down, Sam?” She responded, giving you the go ahead. 

With that, you dipped your tongue languidly straight from her opening to the top, stopping at her clit and running circles over it with slow, intentional waves. 

Her body language let you know she was okay with it, as she immediately had a tighter grip on your hair. You began to go to work after that. She tasted like heaven. Just how you’d always imagined. But you’d never tell her that. 

You switched between quick and sharp movements to slow, calculated swirls, paying special attention to her reactions and banking them away in your memory. She was writhing, legs falling open as wide as they could only to close again and squeeze around your head. You brought a hand up to tease at her entrance, not entering all the way so as to add to her anticipation. 

Her body was shaking and spasming as you felt like you were bringing her closer to the edge. You moved your eyes to look up at her, and she met your gaze. Fucking beautiful. She smiled deviously again, mouth cocked open in pleasure. She gave one last final tug on your hair before she toppled over the edge, her body quivering and vibrating through the orgasm. 

You sat up, her hand meeting your mouth to wipe off her wetness. 

“Jesus Christ Sam. Tell me again why you never snuck me away to the basement?” She said through pants of exasperated breaths. 

You met again in a heated kiss, her pulling you into her by your hair, neck, shoulders…anything she could get ahold of to close the gap between you. 

You felt her reach between you and take your length in her hand. She wasted no time in letting you know what she wanted, the strokes of her hand rough and depraved.

“Wait,” you said. 

You reached into your bedside table and tore a condom off the long strip, opened its contents and removed it. 

“Look at you being responsible...” She giggled as you slid it over yourself. 

“Hey, I haven’t talked to you in years, I’m not trying to jeopardize my future love life because of silly old you.” You knew that would get under her skin. 

“You asshole!” She punched your shoulder. “I’m clean and healthy, I’ll have you know. I’m the one that should be worried, Mr. ‘We’ve traveled the world and won a Grammy' blah blah bla-" 

You quickly placed your free hand over her mouth, effectively muffling her words. 

“Shhhhhh, I’m trying to fuck you senseless.” you tease.

No sooner than you had finished your sentence, she bit hard into your hand, pulling your middle finger into her mouth. Her tongue was rolling and nibbling and sucking, it sent a chill down your spine and all the blood rushed straight to your dick. She might kill you tonight. 

That was enough to send you over the edge, no more fucking around. You rolled your body on top of her, and pulled your knee up to spread her legs. Your finger was still in her mouth, and your hand was covering it. 

“Y/N, are you… a brat?” You grabbed your length in your other hand, and began teasing at her entrance, eliciting a little moan from her. She arched her back into you, looking for more. 

She shook her head side to side, “huh uh” she spoke through your hand, smiling giddily. Then she pulled your finger into her mouth impossibly deep, you could feel the back of her tongue on your fingertip. She swallowed. God, your head was spinning like a top. 

“Hmm really?” you growled, bringing your mouth to her ear. “Because it seems like you might be.” On your last word, you pressed your dick into her, filling her to the hilt. You left your hand across her mouth, forcing her to stay quiet. Her eyes shot closed at the feeling of you filling her. 

You stayed still, taunting her, letting her get used to the feeling. When in all reality, you were taking the moment in. You wanted to savor it, feel it completely. You wished you could take the condom off, feel her completely and wholly. She felt so warm and so tight, you could only imagine what she felt like skin to skin. 

She spit your finger from her mouth. “What happened to the senseless part, Sam?” 

You took that as an invitation to go ahead. You began slow thrusts, so as not to move things along too quickly. Immediately she was writhing beneath you, hands moving up and down your back and into your hair. You did your best to find a rhythm, but she was making things impossibly difficult with her reactions. Shit. She felt amazing. 

You began to pick up the pace a little, grabbing her leg and bending it to wrap around your waist. Apparently, that was the right spot. Your moves were sensual. Senseless, but sensual. You let your head fall to her ear, biting the lobe and running your tongue behind it. 

“Fuuuuck yes, Sam,” she spat out breathlessly. You were beginning to lose composure, but were far from being finished with her. Her sounds alone could send you into a frenzy at this point. She began to whine a little as you blew cold air onto the places your tongue had left. 

You sat up, grabbed her hips and propped yourself up on one knee, towering above her. This new angle was stellar, you had a full view, though dark and still slightly under the covers, of what was happening. You watched yourself slide in and out of her, and began to slow your pace. 

“Take it off, Sam.” she said in a demanding tone. 

“What?” You breathed. 

“Take the condom off.” 

You fumbled your words. “Sh-really? Are you sure? I was just joking earlier, I’m clea-"

“Sam, I trust you more than I trust anyone in my life. Take it off.” she pleaded.

Who were you to deny her that? You removed yourself from her, and the two of you worked together to slide it off. 

The air had changed just a little. You peered down to her blissed-out face. “I wanna feel you.” she whispered. 

The rush of blood to all your extremities was enough to knock you over. She had no idea what she was doing to you. Her natural confidence was newfounded, she always had it but, damn. This was something else. 

She pushed you backwards, and switched your places. You found yourself underneath her again. You immediately reached for her warmth, wanting to touch her. You found her clit, and began making small swirls over top of it. You reached down a bit further, and gathered up her wetness, bringing it to make everything impossibly slick. She tilted her head back in a moan. 

“God, babe. You’re so wet. Is that all for me?” You asked in a teasing tone. 

“No idiot, it’s for me,” she playfully rolled her eyes as you laughed. 

“Touché.” You walked right into that one. 

You quickened your swirls with your thumb, and added a finger inside her. 

“Shitttt Sam, really?” You began pumping your finger in and out while continuing your assault on her clit. After a few seconds of undoing her, she grabbed your hand and pulled it away, then lifted herself to let you enter her again. The raw contact had the two of you falling onto one another, bodies instantly turning into puddles as she slowly sat all the way down, and bottomed out. 

“Jesus Christ, y/n….ffffuck meee, you feel so-” you could do nothing else but sit up slightly, finding her lips again and bringing her to a deep and sensual kiss. All the while moaning hard into her mouth. There were no words to describe how good she felt. Velvety smooth on you. 

She began bouncing slowly up and down, almost breaking contact completely before setting herself back down again. Her hands were on your pecs, squeezing and kneading them as her head rolled from side to side with pleasure overcoming her face. She was absolutely stunning. 

You reached up to grab a fistful of her hair, you wrapped it all around your hand tightly and pulled hard, bringing her face close to yours. Your foreheads rested on each other as she continued riding her way into oblivion. Both covered in a sheen of sweat, you found yourselves enraptured in pure ecstasy. 

The eye contact, the hitched breaths, the quick and deep kisses…you should have been doing this a long long time ago. Her sounds were becoming more and more strangled, like she was going to tumble over the edge at any minute. You began lightly rubbing her back, and she sat back up, stopping the bounce, now simply grinding in circles. 

“You’re so fuckin beautiful, y/n.” She smiled deviously, and you reached up a hand to her throat, squeezing gently. “That ok?” You asked. 

“Fuck yeah, it’s okay,” she replied. 

Yep. She’s going to kill you tonight. 

You felt yourself twitching inside her, and you knew it wouldn’t be long. Luckily, you could tell she was beginning to come apart herself. You reached for her clit again with your free hand, letting her take the reigns while she held onto you for dear life. 

The sounds she was making were nearly pornographic; you were glad you didn’t live in an apartment. She reached a hand up to grasp the wrist of your hand on her throat, squeezing it tightly, signaling you to do the same and you obliged. Suddenly she was collapsing and falling apart, soaking you in the process. You watched as she rode herself through it, pupils blown out and face beautifully contorted. She smiled when she came back to. 

“God damn I wish you could see yourself…” you trailed off again. She began bouncing harder now, quickly bringing you to the brink. 

“Where do you…I’m-” she quickly hopped off of you, squatted down, and took your length in her mouth, pumping with her hands and mouth. That was all it took…you exploded into a million pieces, sending your streams into her mouth. She squeezed your thighs on the come down, and left no mess behind. 

Once you landed back on earth, she removed her mouth, and chuckled. You were left breathless, wordless, mindless- everything was gone from your brain. 

“Are you fucking serious, y/n?” you said through labored breaths. “I think that was the hottest- you’re literally-” you stammer. You couldn’t even form sentences. You covered your face in disbelief as she climbed up to lay next to you. 

You could do nothing else but pull her into a tight squeeze. “Where have you been all my life?” You ask through an expectant smile. 

She lifted her head and looked at you sarcastically. 

“Oh yeah, up my brother’s ass.” You replied, just waiting for her next playful blow to your shoulder. 

SMACK. 

“There it is. I’m sorry. I deserved that one.” you said, massaging your collarbone. 

“Don’t be a dick Sam, that’s a touchy subject.” she scoffed.

You sighed. “I know it is, I won’t pick on you anymore, college girl.” you tease again.

That one landed you a pillow to the face. 

“Sam, I’m serious. Quit while you’re ahead.” she warned. 

“Ok, ok sheesh.” You paused and pulled her in closer, softly kissing her lips. “I am ahead, aren’t I?”

You decided to not delve anymore, ruin a good feeling. You let yourself drift off to sleep, curled up to the once love of your life, who surprisingly, at this point, no longer held you completely captive. For some reason, even after all of tonight’s events, your heart didn’t beat the same for her anymore.

——

You woke up the next morning tangled in your sheets, but no longer tangled up with her. She had found her spot on the other side of your king bed, perfectly comfortable in her own space. Your head pounded a little from the dehydration setting in. 

The sound of crunching gravel had you snapping your head towards the window as you heard a car pulling up, stopping in front of the house. You rubbed your eyes and hopped over to the window, peeking out the blinds. Shit. Jake. You’d forgotten he was bringing a portfolio of paperwork over for you to sign off on for the label. You shook her awake. 

“Hey, y/n, wake up, hey!” Her eyes opened one at a time as she craned her neck to look at you. 

“Listen, Jake just pulled up, don’t go anywhere.” She shot up out of the bed, and at the same time, you both realized you were still completely nude. 

“SHIT!” You both chimed, clobbering over the bed trying to find clothes to dress yourselves. 

She was pulling a pair of your sweatpants on and you were pulling your shirt over your head as you heard the front door open. You forgot he had a key. 

“Sammy boyyyy! Awakennn!” you heard Jake beckon from the front door. You motioned to her to be quiet with a finger over your lips as you walked out, closing the door behind you. 

“Good morning brother. You’re awfully chipper for it to be this early,” you said through a yawn, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. You walked over to start a pot of coffee. 

“And you’re awfully fully dressed to have had what looks to be a rendezvous last night, hm?” he quipped back. 

Fuck. That was fast. 

You turned around slowly to see her green coat hanging from his finger. He looked around, noticing her boots on the floor, and her purse hanging on the back of the chair. You had no words. 

“Didn’t bother to take her home after getting into some trouble last night? Or was the trouble you got into here?” he scoffs.

His voice was deeply quiet, but not mad. He seemed to just want you to explain. 

Just then, you heard your bedroom door close. And here she came, waltzing through your home like she owned the place, donned in your tshirt and sweatpants. Oh hell. 

“Good morning, sunshines! How is everyone this morning?” she asked, like absolutely nothing in the world could faze her. Jake was taken by surprise, you noticed his body language instantly turn from confrontational to timid. 

“Jake…hey. It’s really good to see you.” She sweetly walked over to him, and took him in a completely professional hug. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk much last night, Sam and I got caught up in some nostalgic conversation.” 

He was still holding her jacket. Neither of you spoke a word, but instead just stood, too stunned to reply. 

After the longest pause, Jake finally spoke. “Uh yeah, hey y/n.. it’s good to see you too. It’s been..umm..a while.” You could tell by his tone that though he was trying to be cordial, he was dying to have his own nostalgic conversation with her. 

“It has.” she replied, crossing her arms. The three of you stood in awkward silence for a few beats. 

“Hey Sam, um, I’ve gotta be at work in a bit, could you run me home?” she asked.

“Yeah, yep. I can do that.” You said, rushing around and looking for your keys. 

“Thanks.” She started walking back toward your room to gather her things. “Jake, see ya around.” And she was out of sight. 

You felt the weight of the world crashing down on you from just one look from your brother. He stared at you silently seething before he finally spoke, “Just sign the fucking papers and take them back to Josh.” He tossed her jacket across the table, and left your house without another word. 

——

“Do you have any regrets?” You asked her as the two of you sat cross-legged on the end of your bed. 

She took a deep cleansing breath, and shook her head. 

“No. I really don’t.” You felt relief completely wash over your body, as you were scared that in your drunken state last night, you may have made the wrong decisions. 

“Do you?” She side-glanced to you, afraid of the answer you were going to give. 

You mirrored her action. “Nope.”

“Still don’t have any feelings for me anymore?” She pressed. 

You let this one sit with you for a second.  “Honestly, I don’t think I do, y/n, as strange as that sounds.” She agreed with a nod. “But I had a really good time last night. Like a really good time.”

She smiled. “I did too. Who would have thought that sleeping with your best friend actually wouldn’t be weird?” The two of you sat in relieved silence. “I’m glad we can be honest with each other again. I missed that.” she said sweetly. “I missed you.”

Three years ago, those words would have made your life turn upside down and fall into a frenzy, but, her words didn’t sting. They didn’t make your stomach do flips. Instead, they gave you a strange sense of comfort and sentimentality. A sense of familiarity. 

She was so endearing, enrapturing. You still felt a draw to her, something deep and archaic, that you couldn’t explain. You suddenly felt an innate pull to chase that feeling again and again, not having any idea where it might land you. And also not caring where it did. 

JAKE POV

You flung the door to your Jeep open, and hopped inside, slamming the door shut behind you. You were seething with anger. Anger and betrayal and disappointment. You gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, and felt a sharp pain radiate through your right hand. The lasting effects of your fractured hand still hanging around even after all this time. You scoffed at the irony. Her, still tying you to some of the worst pain you’ve ever experienced in your life. 

You thought you were free of it. Did you miss her? Of course. Things were left on terms that weren’t great. But the phone worked both ways. She didn’t try. She faded away so quickly. 

You thought you’d proven yourself time and time again of wanting to be with her, and only her. But it wasn’t good enough. She had her reasons, and they made sense from the outside looking in. But not to you. Not for you. 

She was gone.  And you thought it was for good this time. You’d finally found separation and ripped the band aid off. You found what felt like happiness again, in Sophia. And now, here she was again, crashing into your new life like a freight train. Into Sam’s life. And apparently into his bed. 

You were speeding down the highway, eyes crossing at the feeling of betrayal from your brother. How could he do this? But more importantly, why were you so affected?

——

A few hours later, you pulled into the parking lot of the practice studio in a cloud of dust from the gravel. You put it in park, and removed your sunglasses. You saw stars. Maybe you shouldn’t have had that last drink. You flipped down the visor and checked your appearance. Eyes bloodshot, cheeks red. Perfect. You popped a piece of gum into your mouth, and replaced the sunglasses. You were the last one to arrive, as usual. 

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling and calling. And I thought I was the one always late.” Josh spat as soon as you opened the front door. “God, you reek of bourbon. You idiot, are you drunk?” 

You straightened up, and leaned in closely to your twin. “Please. Stop. Talking.”  you all but slurred. He held his hands up in surrender. 

“As long as you can fucking play... I can’t believe you drove like this. Stupid, really.” He spoke as he turned and walked toward the booth. 

You joined everyone after taking your guitar from the case and plugging it in. 

“Jacob.” Sam said in a blank tone. 

“Samuel.” you answered short and clipped. You cleared your throat. “Alright. Let’s get going.”

The tension was thick. The air was heavy. You felt flush, and you were starving. A headache had begun to creep its way into your forehead. You made it through the first few songs without too much trouble, thanking your muscle memory for doing its job while you struggled to even see straight. As time went on, though, you began to struggle a bit. 

“Christ Jake, I can’t catch your cues if you don’t play them!” Josh yelled. “We’ve got to get this shit tight.” 

“Just do it again.” You spoke. 

You heard a collective scoff come from Danny and Sam. You turned to see them rolling their eyes in aggravation. 

“Do either of you have something to say? Because I’d like to hear it if so.” You raised your voice, pushing the guitar to hang around your back. 

“You sound like shit, Jake! Just get it together so we can wrap this up.” Sam answered in his whiny youngest sibling tone. It struck a nerve. 

“Wrap it up? You heard Josh, we’ve got to get this tight. We aren’t going anywhere until we hit it. Besides, where the fuck do you want to go in such a hurry, hm?” You felt heat rising in your face. You knew exactly where he was going. 

“You’re the one who keeps fucking up! We all sound fine. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone to the bar at 2 pm.” The last bit of his sentence trailed off under his breath. 

“Son of a bitch, here we go,” you heard Danny mumble, setting his sticks on the drumhead. 

“For your information, Samuel, it’s none of your business what I do with my free time. So I’d shut it before you really piss me off.” You swung your guitar back around to the front. 

“I don’t know, I think it’s kind of all of our business what you do in your free time, seeing as how it might constitute you coming to practice fully fucking drunk and unable to play the simplest of chord progressions...” he spat as you cut him off. 

“OK Sam. Since we should know everything about each other at all times, why don’t you tell the family what you were doing last night, then? And this morning? Come on, we need details… No secrets anymore.” Your words were flying now, rage filling you to the brim. You held your fingers against your lips, eyes meeting Sam’s and sincerely waiting to hear what kind of reply he had. 

Josh and Danny waited in anticipation, all eyes on Sam. You felt the alcohol still pulsing through your veins, vision still blurred. 

He cleared his throat. 

“Alright, fine. I was with y/n. We went out. Got drunk. And she came back to my house.” He stopped there. It was silent for a few beats. 

You felt absolutely defeated. Heartbroken. Truly let down, and the tone of your voice matched it. 

“Sam, did you sleep with her? Did you sleep with my girl?” You felt your lip quiver just a little, succumbing to the encompassing blur that the emotions and whiskey had left you in. 

He looked behind you, then met your eyes. He bit the inside of his cheek, and nodded slowly. 

There was no way to describe the feeling that overtook you. The only way to explain it was just plain sickness. Not madness. Not fury. 

You turned around to face away from everyone as you collected your thoughts. The silence that fell on the room was deafening. You quickly pulled the plug on your guitar, tossing the cord to the floor.

“Let’s just... Meet back up tomorrow morning. It seems like we all might need some time.” Josh thankfully spoke up. “Jake, I'm driving you. Let’s go.” 

——

Josh didn’t say much on the drive, and you were a bit relieved. You needed a second to just sit and stare at nothing. Your head was still spinning and all you could do was lean it against the headrest and close your eyes. After a few minutes of Josh’s reckless driving, he slammed a water bottle to your chest. 

“Chug it, asshole. We’re here.” You slumped down in your seat, feeling like the world had dropped all around you. You unbuckled your seatbelt and slowly trudged your way up the walkway, following far behind Josh who was waiting at the door. 

When you made it inside, you immediately went to the fridge and pulled out yesterday’s leftovers. Not even bothering to heat them, you dug in. 

“Jesus, you are fucked up,” Josh said, taking a seat at the island. 

“I haven’t eaten in 20 hours.” you said, monotone. 

“She’s really got you in your feelings again, doesn’t she? I thought we were past this.” Josh said, crossing his arms.  “Lay it out for me, brother. I’m here to listen. Tell me what’s going on so I can try to help before the band implodes.”

You took a deep breath, throwing the to-go box in the trash and screwing the top off the water bottle. “I don’t want to. You can just go home. Thank you for the ride, though.” you muttered, walking into the living room to hopefully pass out on the couch until tomorrow. 

“Oh no you don’t.” you could hear Josh’s footsteps behind you. You felt slightly aggravated, and the headache was getting worse. 

“Josh, you saw what happened at the studio! It should be self explanatory! Do I need to recount every fuckin detail?” You raised your voice to him.

“Have you talked to Sam about it? Or did you just assume their situation?” He asked. The question actually stunned you. 

“What do you mean assume their situation? He told me! He told all of us!” Your arms were raising with your voice now. 

Josh kept his calm and collected, as always. “Yeah, but have you talked to her?” He asked again, with no emotion in his voice. 

“When the fuck would I have had time to talk to her? I just saw her for the first time since they left the bar last night. All cuddled up in conversation over there, didn’t even bother to say hello.” you were rambling now. Placing blame where it didn’t need to be placed out of resentment. 

Josh just sat with his arms crossed raising a brow in question. 

“Why didn’t you go say hello? Like the rest of us did? Just because Sophia was there? You and y/n aren’t together anymore. It’s been years. It would have been perfectly okay for you to go and catch up with an old friend.” He said matter-of-factly. “But you just sat there, and kept to yourself. Kind of rude, honestly.”

You let out an exasperated sigh and fell harder into the couch, laying out with your legs outstretched. 

“No, it wouldn’t have been okay, Josh. It wouldn’t have been perfectly okay and you know that.” You covered your eyes with your hand. “Shit will never be perfectly okay between me and her. It’s like the universe just fucks us over any chance it gets. I thought I was free of it, moving here. Finding Sophia. But everytime she comes around again it’s like my whole world turns itself upside down. Why can’t I just move on?” you plead.

You felt yourself spilling your feelings to your brother. Thanks a lot, Bourbon. 

“And now we see her for the first time in fuckin years, and she hooks up with Sam? Are you fuckin kidding me?! She completely forgot about everything we went through together? Everything I said and did…she just disappeared. After I tried so damn hard for us.”

Josh sat stoic, milling over your words. He knew something you didn’t. 

“Just let it be, brother. You have a serious girlfriend now. They’re adults. We’re all adults. Not much you can change in this situation.” Josh had a look on his face that you knew too well. 

You sat up quickly, “You talked to her, didn’t you? Before we got to the bar. What did she say?” You pressed. 

He stood up grabbing his keys, “She said exactly what you think she said, Jake. Now go to sleep. You look like hell.” And with that, he left the house. 

‘She said exactly what you think she said.’ 

Coming from someone who shares your brain cells, you knew what he was implying. 

Maybe she does still feel the same. 

HER POV 

“Thanks for the ride, Sammy. I’ll talk to you later?” You asked, hopping out of Sam’s car. 

“Yeah, see you this weekend!” he says, putting the car into drive and pulling away.

You walked upstairs to your apartment door, and let yourself in. You plopped down your bed, mind absolutely racing with the past day’s occurrences. 

Excitement from seeing Josh and everyone again for the first time in years, in your new city. 

Giddiness and some confusion from the whirlwind of sleeping with Sam. 

And pure anxiety from simply being in the same building as Jake. And his new girlfriend. You still held resentment toward him, and the way things were left between you. The way he never reached out again. The way he let you slip through his fingers so easily.

You let your mind trip and stumble over every detail, while watching your ceiling fan spin slowly above you. You tried to keep your eyes locked on one fan blade while it spun, following it around in circles for it to only make your eyes dizzy and lose track of it.  It was funny, the metaphor that wrote itself in your mind. You did nothing but chase Jake around in circles for years, only to lose track of him time and time again. 

Fate was funny. And you didn’t understand why your mind was so heavy on him after having a very satisfying go-around with his brother last night. You covered your face with your hands. 

FUCK. 

You SLEPT with Sam! Moreover, you essentially initiated it! You felt embarrassed and ashamed, the normal guilt that always follows a one-night stand. What the hell were you thinking last night? You didn’t have feelings for Sam like that. You never have. 

But you let him know that. And he understood. The feeling, or lack thereof, was mutual. You took a deep breath, and tried to talk yourself through the mantra of “Sex is okay between friends. Consenting adults. It doesn’t have to have meaning. It’s a natural, carnal, physical need.”

You laughed at yourself, raising your eyebrows.

It was an excellent lay. 

And you’d be lying to yourself if you said you wouldn’t be willing to hook up with him again. Visions of his face and his body and his hands on you replayed in your mind’s eye. Purely physical. Pure lust. Mirrored bodies that already understood each other so well, the physical touch was just an extension of it.

But it wasn’t Jake. Nothing has ever been like Jake. Before or after. After Andy, Jake let you know what it felt like to make love, not just have sex. He cared about his every movement, every touch, intentional. You’ve never felt a connection like that with anyone ever before. You had a hunger for him that was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Insatiable and honest, no barriers or boundaries, and the feeling of complete and utter love. 

But you knew you’d never get that feeling back. You’d only be chasing it around in circles for the rest of forever, slipping up and losing track of him over and over. 

You sat up and attempted to clear your head. Sam had invited you to a party this weekend, and it was already Thursday. You only questioned going for a split second, until Sam’s begging puppy dog eyes wrapped you into saying yes. You had always had a hard time denying those eyes.

Maybe you’d end up back at home that night. But, more than likely, you wouldn't.

You knew it would be Sam’s bed you’d wake up in, and furthermore, you’d like it.

.

.

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Outtake: Plan A

Taglist: @gretavansara@jordierama@starshine-wagner@gretavanfvckface@gretavanmoon@gvfjess @misshunnybeebee@fretaganvleet@gvfpal@joshkiszkas@ascendingtostardust @raviolilegs@sammysprincess@gvfpal@objectsinspvce@lallisonl@gvfpal@raviolilegs@jaketlover@ascendingtostardust @indigostreakmorgan @jakemarrymeibeg @fakeplastiqtree @radmads-gvf

[agendabymooner]

colour me your colour || toto w. x ofc (2)

Summary: Tilly Marie nearly loses faith in her passion as she refuses to listen to everyone who told her to quit. Everyone but one. And it’s the man she met years ago at a racing event she didn’t want to attend. Who would have thought that her father’s partial ownership of three brands could take her to the zone of Mercedes and meet the love of her life?

Chapter summary: It's 2014. Tilly fills up the position temporarily as Red Bull's Communication Liaison and meets the man she spoke to all those years ago in Dubai... only for her to realize that he's her best friend's Team Principal. Lewis Hamilton is more than amused with her situation, if anything.

Content warning: Age gap, mentions of an absence of a father figure, brief use of explicit language, mentions of nepotism, discussion of mental health and burnouts. Platonic!Lewis Hamilton content, Platonic!Daniel Ricciardo content. Fictional family and business involved (Hearth family and Hearth Automotives Group). One character is fictional but came from a family (Ford family). NO PERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS INVOLVED SORRY

Note: This is actually my demon time. I took a break from posting too much Danny Ric even if I love him sm (this fic needs attention a little bit). Should I make him go feral and chaotic again? I dunno. But anyways, here's for the Toto stans. Please tell me what you think in many ways - reblog and reply even! Enjoy xx

ii. tilly marie wants to go to hell

Tilly Marie. 

That is the name that hides everything that relates to my life and purpose. Truthfully, everyone knows who I am, but I act like a stranger to everyone who works in the location during the races. Everyone has heard of my name but never really knew what I look like. Of course, they would know who I am. I’m sharing my surname with the man who partially owned three teams— all through his shares. 

Julius Hearth is a billionaire who invested much more in motorsport than he should have in his racing career. Instead of becoming a professional driver, he remains a billionaire, relatively close to creating a monopoly in the racing industry. 

A greedy man, they call him. He dislikes the idea of being unable to control his businesses. He could have sold his shares before, yet he keeps a tight grip over each of his holdings and keeps his position in each team as an executive. He’s not even the one at the race right now. He has his daughter act on his behalf and play his part in keeping his teams popular. 

The surname Hearth is practically engraved in each team’s zones. I hate it. Wherever I go, even if I hadn’t attended a grand prix for a while now, eyes would settle on me. Everyone knows my name. I hate it. It should have been Ford instead, maybe I would have allowed it.

And so I stuck with Tilly Marie. Tilly Hearth catches the eyes of everyone in the racing industry. Tilly Marie is just a woman with access to three zones and additional pit access from her friend. Tilly Hearth is for business— for handling problems and solutions in media outlets and communications.

Now that I think of it, I remember considering quitting my job before I was even told to attend the British GP. Have you ever been so exhausted from doing what you love? Or is that something not really something you desire?

I enjoy writing fashion and design articles for everyone’s entertainment. But to be told you’ll be given a better angle on the following magazine issues and still drooling after that promise? Now that’s just an embarrassment. 

Everyone I’m close to knows how badly I am treated at the company. Their sympathy came with advice to leave the company. Yet, despite the gratitude that I felt, I refuse to resign. I have faith in my career. They’ll give me a better angle soon enough. Or not.

One of the many people who told me to quit is here standing behind the gate. His tightly braided hair is covered with a branded cap. His chest is covered in a white polo. He stands there with a cheeky grin as he holds his arms out. Lewis Hamilton never failed to make me smile.

He engulfs me with a tight embrace and lifts me slightly in joy. We have not even exchanged words yet, but I am already smiling widely. 

“Oh, Tilly, I thought you wouldn't come!” Lewis exclaims once that he puts me down. I straighten my slightly wrinkled skirt and look at him with a questioning frown. “You’re going to watch me win in person this time!” 

“You act like I don’t see you almost every month,” I scoff, shaking my head at his pout.

“You haven’t attended any of my races for almost six years,” he points out, referring to his championship when he was in McLaren. That’s how we met. My father was bored and had decided to buy a part of McLaren, Lewis’ first team. I hung around him more often during the past few seasons while I consulted with my father’s other teams - Scuderia Ferrari and Red Bull. Lewis values our friendship more than his team, as we remained friends after he departed from McLaren. 

I was going to protest and defend myself, but he cut me off before I could even talk. “You were working hard at Vogue, I know,” he rolls his eyes before he wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer as we walk down the Mercedes zone. He still has an assistant with him, and she’s nice enough to ensure that Lewis isn’t doing something stupid like getting our photos taken by paps while his arm is around me. I can see the headlines we’ll make if they see me.

Tilly Hearth’s Comeback Spiced Up by Forbidden Romance as She Snuggles with Mercedes Driver

The Lifestyle of the Rich and Famous: Lewis Hamilton Seen Cozying Up with the Hearth Group Heiress

He continues, “I love you. You know that, right?” 

I nod as he playfully scolds me, “Then why aren’t you listening to me? To your three sisters, even? You’re writing a smaller piece in a magazine for how long? Six years? Why don’t you quit and find a better opportunity?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” I frown, slightly shoving him away while his arm remains wrapped around me. I try kicking him in the leg, but he quickly avoids my attack as he laughs. People that walked past scowl at us. “I knew I should’ve stayed on the Red Bull pit.” 

“In my year of winning? At the British GP?” He scoffs haughtily. “You wound me, Tilly Marie.”

“And while I’m against the idea of staying in your paddock, I’m glad we can agree on calling me by that name so I'm staying because I love you that much,” I grin, kissing him on the cheek as we arrive at the Mercedes hospitality. 

Indeed, I haven’t attended a race for a while now. Putting more time into my job would give me a way to a promotion or an opportunity to publish a meaningful piece in the magazine. But as years go on, I’m slowly backing away from that optimism. So being in this event… yeah, I think I’ll choose this lifestyle once more over that god-awful thing I call a career. 

Still, why haven’t I quit yet? I have little faith in them. I might as well resign. But this advice came from other people. It didn’t come from me. They cannot change my mind, and I wish I’m not this stubborn and stupid. I wish Lewis would bang my head against the wall to get me to quit. 

I know that I have more options if I quit. But even then, I know my options will come straight from my surname and father. Nepotism follows me wherever I go; even if it’s inevitable, I try to control the fire before it spreads. I know that using my name will not help me learn more. 

Even Lewis knows how much it’ll affect my career in a different industry. One that isn’t racing. It’s bad enough that everyone knows me by name, but to use it proudly? Yeah no. Lewis keeps me humbled by calling me Tilly Marie. I love him because of that. 

All of those thoughts have left me alone when I hear a voice ring out behind the two of us. One that calls for Lewis, which has my friend turning around. Out of curiosity and instinct, I immediately turned around to see who called for him. 

Would it be a shame to admit that the man you met eight years ago looked as handsome as before? No. Maybe not. 

My eyes respectfully move from his attractive face down to the polo that he’s wearing. Slight chest hair peeking out from the unbuttoned collars as my eyes finally look at the title on his chest. 

Team Principal

Mercedes AMG Petronas

While it’s not something to be ashamed of, admitting that the older man is attractive will cause bloodshed. One that would begin with Lewis. 

I must admit the man in front of me makes me nervous now that I have grown older. My legs will turn jelly if I hear his accent again. 

“Ah, you have a guest,” the older man smiles at me almost charmingly. 

My legs didn’t turn into jelly. But I wish I had gone to hell earlier than expected because of the heat I can feel on my face. All because of this man. 

Lewis doesn’t catch the reddening of my cheeks. Instead, he nudges me with a grin, saying, “Of course I have. You know how I want people to watch me win.”

“I like that confidence,” the man chuckles, probably still staring at me while my eyes remain on the floor. 

Lewis nudges me again, leaving me to clutch the strap of the bag that nearly fell off my shoulder. I glare at him, and he doesn’t see it as he introduces me, “Tils! This is Toto Wolff. He’s the Mercedes team principal. Toto, this is Tilly Marie. She’s a friend.” 

I can’t longer avoid his eyes as I look up at his dark eyes. I have forgotten how to speak briefly before I clear my throat and greet the man, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Wolff.” 

His stare isn’t intimidating. That’s what I think, but my body says otherwise. Suddenly, the hospitality feels 30 degrees celsius hotter because of his look. 

But he doesn’t say anything about my obvious situation, and with Lewis not saying anything, I assume he doesn’t notice. The team principal then extends his hand in my direction as his accent leaves a tingling sensation in my ears with the words, “It’s lovely to meet you. Miss…?” 

Oh um. Shit. 

Suddenly the roller coaster in my stomach fades as I stammer, “Hearth. Tilly. Tilly Marie.” I immediately reach for his hand to shake as I shudder slightly. God, those hands are cold. I still shake his hand like a fan excited to meet her idol. Lewis, god loves him, has immediately put a stop to it by putting an arm on my side. 

Not realizing I'm still holding his hand, I immediately pull away and offer Toto a sheepish smile and apology. I’m 28, turning 29. I’m not 18. I’m still acting like a child. 

But my internal dialogue is interrupted by a hum coming out from Toto. He watches me move in one place, assumingely unable to reply for a moment. He's thinking of something and it's unnerving.

The silence doesn’t last long as he finally asks, “Are you Julius Hearth’s relative, by any chance? You look a bit like him.” 

I immediately answer, my voice slightly cracking, saying, “Yes. Yes. I’m the eldest daughter.” 

Knowing my family history, Lewis winces at the title I used to describe myself. Even he knows that this is a sore spot for me.

“Ah,” Toto hums in understanding, nodding at the response while he looks around. It seems our surroundings don't interest him, all while people around us are beginning to whisper at the drop of my name and relationship with a prominent figure in the racing business.��

Nevertheless, he ignores the whispering and instead tells me, “It’s surprising to see you here, Miss Hearth—“ 

“Just call me Tilly,” I immediately interrupted him with the insistence of a worried person. “Tilly works just fine.” 

He doesn’t blink at it, even if I can tell he has a question or so at my insistence. He continues regardless, “Well, Tilly, it’s surprising to see you here, in a rival team’s hospitality.” 

I only laugh at that. I laugh at him like he’s an idiot. Or the other way around. He’s calling me an imbecile in his head now, I tell myself as I watch his brows wrinkle slightly.

I tell him, “I’m here as a friend of your driver, Mr. Wolff. And I can hardly be biased about teams seeing as Julius purchased some shares from almost each. There are no playing favourites in my book.” 

“Is that right?” He asks with amusement in his voice. 

“I like to play fair,” I shrug and offer him a grin, “besides, I’m not as good at interpreting races as he is. I’m only here to keep their head checked before they can lash out in front of the cameras.” 

He likes that response even though I mentioned I have limited motorsport knowledge. He chuckles again, nodding in my direction and at Lewis, who I have almost forgotten is with me. 

He doesn’t say anything to me anymore and tells Lewis, “Remember your interview.” 

“Yes, sir,” Lewis nods at him. 

Toto looks at me again and suggests, “Miss Tilly, you should be in our zone more often.” 

For once, my face hasn’t flushed. I offer him a grateful smile and joke, “It’s a bad idea to give me such a privilege. I suppose you’ll see more of me then, Mr. Wolff.” 

“Call me Toto, liebling,” Toto tells me with a wink, “besides, I won’t complain if I see you here— I might as well snatch you up from Red Bull and McLaren, hm? Or is Ferrari also a competition I have to fight for?” 

He turns around and leaves the premise, walking away from us with a big smile while Lewis and I remain silent. 

There’s a scoff that leaves Lewis’ mouth. I watch him shake his head and ask, “What? Did I do something?” 

“No, no, love,” Lewis answers, chuckling in disbelief as he says, “I can’t believe I just watched my boss hit on my best friend.” 

“Who says you’re my best friend? Sylv, Steve and Aims are my best friends,” I scoff. 

“Stevie, Sylvie and Aimee are your sisters, love. There’s a big difference–whatever, you were just flirting with my boss!” He exclaims, making other people look at us at the abrupt loudness.

I wish I had gone to hell earlier.

[spiralinghours]

“I’ll Be Seeing You” (1/?)

Fandom: Saw franchise

Characters/Pairing: Mark Hoffman x Peter Strahm

Rating: PG-13? (for this installment at least)

Tags/Warnings: mild violence/blood mention, allusions to Strahm being a chubby chaser, and good ol’ 1990’s internalized homophobia

Summary: The Jigsaw case wasn’t the first time Hoffman and Strahm met. When they were tasked on an assignment in 1992 they got to know each other, but the lines between professional and personal started to blur…

Author’s Notes: Sorry if the grammar and wording is off, may go in and tighten it at some point.

2006

The creeping feeling was there, all the way on the ride from their field office up to the tip of the stairwell leading into the scene the Metropolitan PD was checking out. Peter Strahm knew he would be on the case. He just wasn’t sure how long it would be until they crossed paths.

And then there it was.

Perez was halfway through stating her title before Strahm even noticed who she was addressing.

“Detective Hoffman?”

God, he was just Officer Hoffman back then. Before. It was weird seeing him out of the starched, black uniform.

There was some chatter about Allison Kerry being their liaison and the information she had provided, but it bounced off Strahm, who was not at all absorbing the words. He just kept staring. ‘Fuck. This guy.’ Or more like Fuck this guy!

Strahm’s eyes scrunched and narrowed as he gave an annoyed exhale, which was saying a lot as his disposition was in a perpetual state of fixed glaring—wrinkles under his tear ducts crinkling and cutting across to his cheekbones. The surrounding officers milling about were probably wondering why he was leering, what his problem was. Perez, after all, had introduced themselves so courteously.

Detective Mark Hoffman’s face, meanwhile, had an equally curious slant. His eyes rolled up and down Peter’s physique, awestruck and indiscreet about it. He quickly resumed some semblance of a dignified, unfazed stance.

Despite taking in the physical differences that hadn’t quite sunken in (Hoffman’s field vest wasn’t quite covering all if his chubbier midsection the way it once did, and his hair was pushed to one side like a typical desk jockey), all Strahm’s vision could muster was a screen of the past overlaying the current space.

He remembered that night in front of the tavern…

AUGUST 1992

It started as a celebratory night with the majority of the precinct reveling at the nearby tavern—a regular spot for most of their off-the-clock activity. On this evening they were giving the metaphorical sigh of relief over closing the case on a killer that had been plaguing the city and surrounding areas for little over a year.

The FBI had been brought in, assigning a handful of agents from the nearest field location to assist in the efforts. One of them was Peter Strahm, all of 28-years-old and green in Bureau. It was only evident in his appearance—on-edge demeanor, mullet slick in the front but slightly unruly in back, button up a little long on the arms—that he was new. It was his intense cold gaze and to-the-point tactics that got him taken seriously and carried him far. Far enough to earn his shots at the Metropolitan law enforcement’s party.

Most of those wince-inducing whiskey shots were taken while glancing curiously across the bar at Officer Mark Hoffman. Marcus, the front desk’s woman had often doted on him with a little smile. Deservedly so, Strahm agreed. Mark’s brand of handsome was a blank smoldering model in a cologne ad. A tanned, blue-eyed shyness in some kind of sporting backdrop in a department store. But when his features were pried with a stupid joke or some out of pocket comment by a senior figure, he cackled a silly laugh, prominent nose scrunched, crooked, gapped smile on display.

It made Peter sigh, which sent him into a mild fit over feeling like a school girl.

Mark was only a couple of years younger than Peter, but had a good few years in the force on his side, which was what paired them up most times on the case. It meant hours turning into days in casing out places, taking turns driving from diner to drive thru just to stay awake with bland coffee. Some nights got more interesting than others, but each day they were tasked together was a new canvas.

Now that they were at the end of the line, Peter would resume business as usual at his office, maybe even have time to go back to Nevada for a while. Which seemed nice, except… something felt left undone. Unsaid.

He pushed his emptied tumbler to the edge of the bar and casually glided over to Mark’s barstool.

“Smoke?” he offered.

Mark’s glassy eyes did a little up-down over Peter’s taller form before sliding off to the back hallway that lead to the parking lot.

“Hey,” Mark paused, stopping their tracks in front of the restroom door. “I appreciate the help you’ve brought on the case.”

“Oh, knock it off,” Peter chuckled with a heavy-browed eye roll. “We did all the thank you’s already. We’re getting drunk now.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mark shot back, working his lips into a sassy curl. “I was just trying to be nice.” He craned his head slightly forward, more as a punctuation to his rising sarcasm.

But Peter wasn’t laughing anymore. His face had dropped into something else, eyes dark and fluttering. Mark’s brows knitted into a mixture of intrigue and confusion, not breaking his stare.

Bam, bam, bam. One thing after another. Strahm occupied one palm against Hoffman’s chest, and the other clenching his uniform tie in his fist. With the motion their faces collided, some teeth cutting against lips and tongues. It pushed them into the restroom behind them, so blurred and intense that no one else had noticed.

Against the sticky floor tiles within, Mark tumbled onto his butt, gaze still transfixed with confusion on Peter. He darted out and into the lot before Peter could even offer him a hand up.

Outside in the dewey summer, Strahm darted after Hoffman, calling out “Hey! HEY!”

Mark ceased his stamping off and settled into place, squared up like a statue. “I’m not a fuckin’ queer.” His Jersey

drawl dripped out, lazy but threatening. Though on the defense, his words spilled out like a plea. Please, don’t tell the guys at the station. Don’t get me kicked off the force. Please don’t find me disgusting.

“Neither am I!” Peter lied without quite realizing. “Not that it matters. Just… I dunno. I like this. I like you.”

When Mark wouldn’t respond to the acknowledgment out loud, blue eyes drifting off sharp in the velvet shade of night, Peter pressed on.

“We kissed.”

“No, you kissed me!” Mark spat, face screwing up in a betraying twist. He was blushing. No, fuming. Peter knew exactly what he was masking. Because this wasn’t their first encounter of that sort.

“Fine. You know what? Fuck you. Try not to bite the curb when you’re drunkenly getting back to your patrol car. Fucking lush.” ‘You can’t even kiss me without getting drunk,’ Peter wanted to follow up with. But he had turned, resisting a glance back, only remembering the times before. Those times were a long different: alone in the car, behind a motel, at a gas pump somewhere deserted…

He didn’t want to leave Mark behind. He wanted a next time. Another time to see his goofy smile, his puppy-ish eyes.

It wasn’t meant to be.

Uncoordinated scuttling—rubber soles on crumbling tar—echoed in the lot. “Hey, don’t talk to me like that,” Mark called behind, anger cracking through his tone, deep from in his chest.

Peter tilted his glare so slightly over his shoulder, instantly meeting a dull, radiating impact.

Mark wrung his fist out as it recoiled from Peter’s cheek: minimally bruised, but marked with a ghastly-bright splatter across his knuckles. “That’s what you get,” he choked out.

Without a beat, Strahm was on him, writhing somewhat weakly over the officer on the pavement while still reeling from the punch. He tried throwing all the force he could behind rapid hits, but missed or occasionally caught some awkward angle on Mark.

In a blind reach, Mark went to grab whatever he could to regain some stability, hoping to dig his fingers into Peter’s shoulders. Instead his fingernails caught tacky, humid flesh with a hard impact, raking down a thin trail of blood.

“Fuuuuck!” Peter rasped, pausing to dab the pads of his fingers along a cut on his orbital bone. Thick red seeped alongside his nose, down his cheek.

Mark could feel his own face desperately tense with regret.

The last thing he would ever see of Peter Strahm was the visage of him sat atop his thighs and a tightly wound fist heading between his eyes.

2006

Peter pressed his fingertips down on the raised scar tissue just below his eye. It throbbed maliciously as he took every step through the precinct halls, watched every tiny movement Mark made as he lead them around.

Perez had remained close at Peter’s side through their whole investigative venture so far. But she had to take a call from Erickson before entering into the file room where Hoffman was going to set them up to work. It was fine. Apparently Officer Rigg was in there reviewing footage anyway. Hoffman and Strahm could just wait for the call to end and the room to clear as Rigg wrapped up with the interrogation tape.

Peter released a cartoonishly impatient sigh and pressed his stiff back against the wall.

That was enough.

“You suck on a lemon or something? This whole time you’ve been scowling like I fucking pissed in your coffee.” Hoffman grit his teeth like a junkyard dog, the first time he’d let himself slip with the absence of Perez beside them.

“You’re such a thick-skulled fuck.”

“Oh yeah? That’s rich coming from someone hittin’ the slopes too hard.”

“Wow, very harsh, Detective Bimbo.” Strahm was taken aback by his own sass.

Mark leaned in. “You know, you got real old and bitter. You look like you been chewin’ on nails.”

“You got old and fat.” Peter couldn’t say that it didn’t look appealing on Mark, though. The cockiness was very much still there, but slightly humbled by the rounded edges and layers of cushioning that had expanded his width.

Peter wanted to picture it was a result of comforting, indulgent cooking: a smile spreading on Mark’s idiotic lips at the person across the table from him—the person who had cooked for him. But he knew that wasn’t the case. Even in being strangers for over a decade, Strahm was aware of what had happened to Angelina—the story spread through the news. Hoffman’s appearance wasn’t just extra weight from night after night of spiraling binge drinking, followed by quelling the hunger with takeout; It was a sunken quality to his eyes, a void just under the lids, the line over his brows. He looked hollow behind his own face, which creased with laughter years ago.

‘I could’ve—’ Peter started with himself, quickly cutting it off. No. Whatever he was about to tell himself was a delusion. It wouldn’t matter, especially not once this case was done with.

“You know,” Mark mused on with that purr-like bass to his voice, “I get it. You’re just cranky. Take a nap, sweetheart.” He cupped a thick hand to the scarred side of Peter’s face, grazing a fat thumb over the deeply pink line.

The body reacted before the rest of Peter could catch up, leaning into the touch, but only slightly. Internally he was on the brink of mewing like a starved cat. No no no. NO. He slapped Mark’s hand away.

The flat clacking of Lindsey’s shoes resounded through the hall, subconsciously signaling for the two to behave. They straightened up, but not before Mark leaned into Peter’s ear for a final remark.

“Drinks this week, Special Agent Strahm?”

Peter sneered. The answer wasn’t no.

[ladyduellist]

Snippet Day

I do not recall who tagged me and I’m sure everyone else has been tagged at this point, but here’s a few paragraphs from my next chapter of Epistles of Saints & Sinners Ao3 / tumblr. Out this week!!!

How will Astarion react?

He briefly shut his eyes, hand sailing through his waves, refixing the stray hair coil tarrying on his forehead. Bowing his head at Shadowheart, he straightened his posture, readying himself as acting liaison to enter the mine field exploding behind him.

Lae’zel stepped inward near Tav, armor clanking around her midsection. “It’s no wonder Astarion finally decided to leave your bed,” she maliciously taunted, ”With all your unceasing blathering, it leaves little room for warmth.” She slanted further in, speaking directly into her rival’s ear. “Tell me which is true: that you actually duped yourself into believing you gave him gratification or he faked it the entire time because he pitied your loneliness?”

Astarion instantly squinted at Lae’zel, revulsed at her upturned sneer from her vulgar attacks. He despised her obtrusiveness, aware she only desired his body at one time to satisfy herself. The back of his neck was clammy imagining how her gropes would have branded his raw flesh like every other person he pressured himself into fucking forevermore. Had he not been preoccupied with Tav at the time, he would have bestowed his cock to her in some sick obligation to Cazador’s programmed habits within him.

[cabezadeperro]

oooooooh I’m so excited to catch you open to prompts!

I’d love to see jangobi + “I love you so much it terrifies me” (from this post in your inspo tag: https://www.tumblr.com/cabezadeperro/718494931255263232) if that happens to spark anything 😁

hello!!!!

established relationship, vaguely canon compliant/canon divergent. T, ~830w.

---

Obi-Wan pauses half-way to the laundry room, blankets piled high in his arms. The cotton is cool and smooth against his cheek, and the bedclothes are heavy and uncomfortable to hold. He resettles his arms around them, clumsily trying his best to accommodate the weight and the shape, and breathes in.

It’s weak, but it’s still there. His soap and shampoo, his aftershave, the specific brand of blaster oil he uses on his weapons. Obi-Wan closes his eyes, perfectly aware of the fact that he’s standing in the middle of the ship’s corridor with his face buried in a pile of dirty laundry, and not quite managing to care. 

Jango just left. He spent a day, two days, two days, three days and two nights. They spent most of that time together, arguing about everything and nothing at all, talking around all of Jango’s many secrets, but they also shared a bunk, and now he’s gone again and Obi-Wan doesn’t know when—if—he’ll ever see Jango again, and the knowledge has just begun to sink in.  

Obi-Wan has cared about people before. He wants to believe it’s always been like this, that he has always been like this: feeling too much, too strongly, to the point of distraction. But now the longing hits him like a wave, and he finds himself inhaling two nights of shared sweat, and his feet feel like they’re rooted to the shitty metal sheeting of the ship’s floors, and he wants nothing more than to travel back in time to that first morning, to two mornings ago.

He makes his way to the laundry space tucked in a corner of the galley and dunks everything into the old sonic washer. He has to jiggle the cover in place, and then he’s watching his own fingers moving across buttons, and the small room floods with the rattling of the machine. 

He could call him. They’ve never been the kind of people who call each other—too dangerous, too busy, too honest—but he could call Jango, and Jango would reply, and he might even be happy to hear Obi-Wan’s voice, to talk to Obi-Wan or argue with him or just listen to him ramble. Obi-Wan can picture the bemused expression on Jango’s face, that one he no longer knows or wants to hide, half-way between charmed and amused, and Obi-Wan should know better but this happened to him anyway and now and then he doesn’t quite know how to deal with any of it, or if he wants to. 

But he could call Jango, and he’d pick up his comm, and he might be annoyed or baffled or rattled or all at once, but he’d listen. Obi-Wan’s felt him reach out, hands still and eyes hot and something coming to life from behind his mental shields, blooming and reaching out.

It scares him: Obi-Wan knows very well that Jango has made it as long as he has by not caring, by keeping his soft parts well-protected. Obi-Wan has tasted his fear in his dreams and in his nightmares, and he’s felt it, well-hidden as it is behind Jango’s teeth and under his breastbone.

Anakin’s in the cockpit, nominally keeping an eye on the nav computer, in reality doing Force knows what. He’s occupied and happy about it, his usually buzzing mind as still as it gets. 

He thinks he knows everything there is to know about Jango and Obi-Wan: he’s met some of Obi-Wan’s previous liaisons, and he knows what to expect. He left them the main bunk room on the upper deck and slept in one of the crew bunks on the hold, and he complained about it all the while, but he didn’t care that much.

Obi-Wan waits until the washer’s done and then he takes out the clean bedclothes and makes the bed again. They smell of nothing. Afterwards, he sits down on the thin mattress and breathes out, closing his eyes. It’s a small, narrow space. The first night they slept there together, Obi-Wan woke up in the middle of the night cycle, freezing, half-hanging from the bunk bed, Jango hogging all the blankets and curled around himself, his back tucked against the wall. Obi-Wan can still feel him in the room—his Force signature is well-known, cold and sweet like snow or metal or cooling blood on the back of Obi-Wan’s tongue. 

His comm unit is in his trouser pocket. It digs into the meat of his thigh a bit, and Obi-Wan shifts on the mattress until it doesn’t. He closes his eyes and reaches out as far as his mind will go, the galaxy all around their Order-issued shuttle crowded and very empty at once. Jango’s there, one of many little lights, small and getting smaller. Obi-Wan can’t see him or touch him, but he can feel him, like the shadow of a faraway star, and it used to be enough, but knowing him has changed Obi-Wan, and now it’s not.

[wallbeatjournal]

keeping Kevarchie ALIVE. kevin ships dont get talked about nearly enough what about kevhead. personally i think jughead would rather kill himself than admit he's sexually attracted to kevin & it'd be incredibly amusing to watch them psychologically torture each other in an "ugh this is the guy i like???" kind of way. i cant tell if their specific brand of pretentiousness would clash or make them the most annoying power couple to ever exist

oh my godddd they would be atrocious. can you just imagine them writing/directing a play together?? bickering over kevin's vision for some theatrical adaptation of jughead's original comic or short story until they're so mad their only choice is to work it out nasty? (it's NOT homoerotic, kevin, stop calling it homoerotic. this story is about FRIENDSHIP that's practically me and archie right there!!)

and yeah jughead wouldn't want to acknowledge it bc it's so on-the-nose and beneath him and that would infuriate gay kevin who has endured so so much repressed closet case bullshit in his gay lifetime. i don't think they could stand to actually date. jughead would ultimately write a mean play about their liaisons and kevin would write a spiteful score/musical book for it and they'd pretend it was all so veiled in metaphor that nobody would ever realize what had happened (everyone would realize. it would be so blatant and cringe).

...or something like that.