#buried deep really said aesthetics only and then left me hanging

[loosingmoreletters]

second draft of chapter 9 of deeper than the ink is done and will be edited tomorrow morning. I'm hoping to get the others done by october the latest so that for NaNoWriMo I can work on the sequel or one of my other long fics in the work.

Most likely I'll go for patching the road with vague intentions or buried deep with the roots. patching the road is fully planned and easy to write quickly but buried deep is just. a whole lotta vibes and worldbuilding but no plot yet.

[dreamii-yume]

I know his birthday is close, but

Cock sucking manipulative senpai Vil

Cock sucking manipulative senpai Vil

It seems like it's a trend amongst the third year birthday crumbs why stop a nice pattern

Yume’s a kinkii motherfucker, ya’ll know that, right? Darlings? (๑╹ω╹๑ ) Splendid, HOPE YA’LL LIKE SOME DICC MILK ON YOUR CRUMBS HAHA.

“Oh, my...Are you already done?” The hairs on your body stood on its end as soon as you heard Vil’s cold voice. You back straightened up out of instinct as you slowly dragged your mouth off your senior’s still hardened, seemingly unsatisfied dick. Aesthetically pleasing to look at and well-taken care of, exactly what you expect from Vil himself, but was extremely difficult to please. You started wondering if you’re really cut out for this job, or why you’re even here in the first place. “That’s quite the boring performance you gave me there, Darling.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, grimacing at the lingering taste of his precum on your tongue. You didn’t know how many times Vil had told you to suck him off over and over again, but just by the milky white substance dripping down your jaw and probably some in your hair as well since they feel so damped, you guessed it’s been quite a while. “...I-I just can’t, anymore...” His harsh criticism struck a nerve in your feeble little heart, mocking you for doing a terrible job on something that you weren’t really an expert on doing.

Embarrassment filled your core as you began wanting more than to stood up from where you were placed and walk away, but you can’t. Not when your hands are bounded tightly behind your back like this, your shaking knees can’t even carry you more than five meters away. They were but an incredibly soft strings of fabric, yet shows no signs of loosening up no matter how much you struggle against it. Obviously, it was something that Vil purposely chose himself, since the traditional ropes would’ve caused unwanted abrasions on your skin.

Despite knowing that however, you instinctively tugged on your restraints as some sort of defense mechanism against Vil’s condescending glare. “...I-I did what you asked, r-right...? Multiple times, actually…Surely, you must be satisfied no-“

“You must be so full of yourself to think something as pathetic as that can ever satisfy me.” You flinched as Vil raised his voice as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and leaned closer to your face, enough to see your frightened expression. “Do tell me, what part of that was satisfying, huh?”

“You’re too dependent on your hands, so I binded them away. I was hoping that by doing that, you’d make the effort to do better with just your mouth, but all you gave me was disappointment, Dear.” He spoke without hesitation, drilling onto your head your flaws and imperfections. “Why do you shy away from using your tongue, I wonder? You should have the natural talent, and yet you barely used it at all. Don’t you see how wasteful you’re being right now?”

He gave out an exasperated sigh, having the audacity to act like he’s the one having the hardest time and not you. “Don’t think I didn’t see how you never swallow either.” He scowled. “You try to distract me by holding my seed inside your mouth like a chipmunk, but in the end, you spit them right back out. How rude.”

“T-That’s...” You tried to defend yourself, but stopped when he let go of your hair, patting them a bit to flatten some strands that’s been sticking out.

“Enough, it’s fine. I don’t need your excuses.” He said as his hand reached for something on a nearby desk, giving you a mesmerizing view on how long they really are. However, upon glancing down at you and seeing your pitiful expression, eyebrows scrunched up together and in the verge of tears, his eyes did soften up a bit. “...But I understand, you’re still my adorable little potato right now so, I don’t expect you to reach a professional level any time soon.”

You heard him giggle, which caught your attention and looked up at him, only to see an amused smirk formed in his lips. “So, I’ll just have to train you more until then.” He said, licking his lips seductively as you widened your eyes once you saw that particular item in his hand. “Be grateful, Honey.”

Once he saw you starting to recoil back nervously despite your restrictions, Vil grabbed you by the back of the head. “...You’ll do that for me, right? After all, it is my special day.” He cunningly whispered out as he revealed his special item close to you; a mouth-opening device. You let out incomprehensible, protesting noises as he forcibly clanked them onto your mouth, attaching them from the back of your head until it gave a satisfying click as a lock. Your jaw tightened, not used to having your gums pried open this far wide.

Content with being on his two legs alone, Vil chuckled down at you, who looked back at him fearfully. You tried to talk to him, to try and beg your way out of this, only to end up releasing panicked meekly sounds as drool began to drip down your jaw. “How adorable, keep making sounds like that and I might end up confusing you for a livestock that’s about to be slaughtered.” He mocked as he grabbed both the sides of your head as soon as you started shaking your head in defiance. “...You’re completely at my mercy, aren’t you?”

“Open your teeth for me.” His dominating voice demanded, making your body weaker than it already is. His sharp glare didn’t leave your teeth clattering against each other for too long, you soon opened a trembling entrance for his excited dick to pass through. He chuckled at your obedience, despite the hesitance and sense of unwillingness expressed through your actions. “...That’s a good girl.”

You let out one last squeal as he wasted no time in practically shoving his whole shaft inside your awaiting mouth hole. Closing your eyes shut, you desperately tried to ignore your activating gag reflex as you felt him rub against the roof of your mouth. He was long and thick enough to have you chocking as he hit the back of your throat. You already had many instances where Vil ‘trains’ you to take him more confidently like this, but you just don’t believe that this was something that you can get used to in a short-time period. But you were sure he’d be disappointed again if you don’t try your best though and you didn’t want to start over again.

Vil sighed slightly as you nervously began to use your tongue to increase his pleasure in-take, hoping that coating him with your own saliva could make his thrusts a little less rough. Thankfully, it seemed like it was the correct decision to make as you practically heard him give out a smirk, his hands staying on your head as he moved his hips back and forth. Gurgled sounds came out of you as he repeatedly knocked on the back of your throat, saliva already slipping out of your strained lips. “...That’s right, you’re doing better now than before, you learn fast too…I like this part of you, it’s endearing.” Vil praised you as a way to encourage you on your efforts even more. “See? I knew you had this in you.”

Giggling, his thrusts began to transitioned in a more fast-paced, harsh kind of way all the while grabbing a fistful of your hair as a lever. Your teeth grazed against the base of his cock, sending shivers of pleasure in Vil’s system that could drive any man crazy. Luckily, his self-control isn’t all that weak-willed, though that’s not to say that he didn’t want it. He could at least say that it was addicting, some kind of pleasure button that he wanted to abuse constantly and bring himself to cum just by your salivating mouth alone. But he had stamina and he could go on forever if he so desired, forever locked onto the warmth of your mouth without necessarily cumming.

However, despite all of that, Vil knew better not to take too much advantage of his new-found enjoyment that it is your mouth hole. It’s not fun to play with a broken toy after all, you’re a pretty little thing too so that would be too wasteful. “I think it’s about time, Love.” Vil whispered, but you only ended up squealing in surprise with your eyes going as wide as saucers as he buried himself inside you in suffocating manner. “Make sure to take it all in, okay?”

Inhaling through your nose, you gasped out a choke as you felt his hot, thick semen exploding from inside your mouth. It filled up space really quick, since there wasn’t really any to begin with and slipped down your jaw. Most importantly, you felt the stream-like substance flowing down your throat and into to your esophagus, filling your stomach up without even trying. You whimpered once you realized that his ejaculation period had finally stopped after a while, but he kept a strong hold against the back of your head. “No, I’m not gonna pull out yet.” Vil strictly said, staring down at your teary, begging eyes. “I did say to take it all in, right? As long as there’s still cum that you have yet to swallow, I’m not pulling out.”

His eyes were testing you, mocking you to do better for yourself but you knew deep down that no matter what you do, he’ll still get the upper hand regardless. Still, you couldn’t just hang around bounded in the floor like this with his twitching dick in your mouth, your jaw is killing you. So, with a heavy heart, you tried to swallow what was left inside your mouth, even going as far as licking the head of his dick to rid it off some remaining semen. You felt disgusting, like you’ve really downgraded yourself into a sex slave, a pig, only for Vil’s personal use. You’re not quite sure on how to get out of this predicament afterwards, or even if it’s possible to do so.

As if he already knew that his dick was licked clean and cum completely swallowed by you, he slowly pulled out, dragging your saliva in a messy fashion. A thin bridge of it was connected to the head, a clear evidence that you even tried licking him off and it really stirred the embarrassment in the bottom of your stomach. You whimpered as he even had the audacity to place his wet dick on your cheek, dragging some disgusting fluids across your skin by practically slapping you with it. Soon, you heard Vil chuckle and flinched as it turned into a full-blown laughter, like a wicked queen when her everything goes according to her plan. He placed a hand on your head, patting you like a pet for a job well-done.

“Haa...That was amazing, Honey. You certainly made my day, thank you.” He said with a smile, surprisingly not a mocking one or a smirk for that matter but a genuine grateful smile. It made your stomach churn to see he could still smile like that despite what he just made you do. “Now, it’s just common sense to give you a well-deserved reward now, right? You’ve done such a good job after all~!”

He then pulled away from you, giving you a sense of relief that everything was over, that you don’t have to do any more humiliating things but...It was odd, if his so-called ‘training’ is already over, why was he not releasing you out of your binds? Your jaw is cramping from your mouth being spread open like this that it was really starting to hurt real bad. Somehow, you didn’t like where this ‘reward’ was gonna go.

Vil came back with a generous slice of his own birthday cake, carefully cut with its beautiful edible decorations still in-tact. There weren’t a single crumb on the plate, suggesting how clean the slice really was. He was smiling and you thought you saw his cheeks pinker than usual, but that could just be his make up like always. It’s kinda out of place and bizarre to see him getting flustered now of all times anyway. With a fork, he cut a piece of cake and slowly brought it close to you.

“Say ‘aah’, Darling.” You were confused at first, not trusting his all of a sudden act of kindness. He still has the mouth-opener clasped onto your gums; how does he expect you to eat that? However, just when you thought to give up trying to make sense of the situation and actually lean closer to let the delicious piece of cake enter your open mouth, Vil stopped. “Oh—“

You flinched as his eyes focused on your jaw and you panicked, wondering what it is. He then smiled eventually, but one that is clearly laced with mischief. “...You missed a spot.” He said, as his long finger traced over a line from your jaw to the one side of your lips. Lifting up his finger in front of you showed a small, yet thick bits of cum that escaped you earlier. “You shouldn’t waste such nourishment, Darling~”

Then, to your utmost shock and disgust, he scraped off the semen on the piece of cake that he was about to feed you. It joined along the other ingredients of the food in a scarily well manner, as if that tinge of white had already been one of the decorations from the start. You were left speechless, but Vil only smirked at your reaction, seemingly finding extreme enjoyment in your cute shocked face. “Alright...” You flinched, physically retracting away but can’t really go any far than you already are now as he brought the fork closer to your open mouth. “I’ll say it again.”

“Say ‘Aah’~”

Is it obvious? IS IT OBVIOUS that Euphoria is affecting the way I’m writing right now? Because YES, it is affecting me so bad OMG— I need to get it out of my system because I can just TELL that this will affect me in the future too lol

Vil reminded me of Nemu and I’m— *sob* I thought I was sinful, but Euphoria is traumatizing—

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of August. We really hope you enjoy this list and that you give these fics a lot of love.

Happy reading!

1) Move Out | Explicit | 1525 words

Harry and Louis are moving in together, so they might as well make the most of Harry's apartment.

2) Take Off Your Business Suit | Explicit | 3082 words

“Yes, let me get another chair.” Louis said, leaning up off of the desk. He stood up but before he could leave the office to get another chair, Harry was grabbing his hand.

The words that came out of Harry’s mouth made Louis’ knees weak and heart beat quicken. “Just sit on my lap.” Harry said. Whatever he said afterwards didn’t make it into Louis’ ears as he was moving quickly over to Harry and placing himself on Harry’s lap.Louis would take anything Harry wanted to give him; hand touching, lap sitting, all of it.

Louis hadn't realized he was holding his breath until it came out in a quiet sigh. “Okay so th-this one will be slightly different right?” He asked as he pointed at the sheet of paper in front of him.

3) So Good, It's Making Me Drool | Explicit | 3364 words

He kept his back turned to Harry, whispering the few words he knew that would make Harry go absolutely wild. “If I’m only yours, maybe you should take me to bed and teach me who I belong to.”

4) What I Like | Explicit | 4245 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

Harry gets tired of the "older women" jokes and the incessant teasing from Louis.

5) ll Belong To Your Creation | General Audiences | 4349words

Louis had always thought it was impossible to do so. Thankfully, upon doing research he learned that he still can as long as there are no complications throughout the whole pregnancy. He also stumble upon a birth vlog where a mum was able to give birth naturally even after going through c-section with her first and second pregnancy.

6) An Axolotl and the Fake Date | Explicit | 5976 words

Harry runs a stall at a farmers market every weekend and Louis comes by one day with an odd request.

7) Feels So Right | Explicit | 8804 words

The one where Louis is Troy, Harry is Gabriella, and we find out what really happened after karaoke at that ski resort...

8) Giallo! | Mature | 9776 words

Louis was a mess. A stuttery mess of weak knees and grass stains on his fresh linen clothes, his cheeks blooming a natural pink that matched his sunburnt nose. Upon his return from University, his family abandon the bustling city of London to bask in the comfort of their summer villa. With such a property came maintenance, Louis' father hired a strapping young fellow with tanned skin littered with ink and a charming smile aided by dimples in both his cheeks. Between reading, baking and painting, Louis stares at Harry, he couldn't help it. They grow close under the sun of Greece in 1989.

9) Interlude: One Night in March | Explicit | 10671 words

Note: This is a sequel to this fic.

“Said I would, didn’t I?” Harry let his hands roam over Louis’s bare back, his muscles rippling with that same frenetic energy he always had, swirling just beneath the skin, just beneath Harry’s fingers. “May come a time I’ll have to carry you again.”

Cupping the back of his head and burying his fingers in Louis’s hair, he pulled Louis back into another deep kiss, moaned a bit when Louis squeezed his chest again, harder this time, like he wanted the shirt off. But instead he drew his hand down Harry’s side and tugged at the hem, as though to say best keep this on, before he licked into Harry’s mouth, drew Harry’s tongue out to play only to pull back enough to speak.

“May come a time I’ll actually fucking let you.”

10) Hate To Smoke (Without Me) | Mature | 12164 words

Sleep. Harry just wants one good night of sleep. However, his neighbour has a thing for headboard-banging-against-the-wall-sex every night. After a secret set-up and a bet, Harry may finally get the sleep he so much desires.

11) Call You Mine | Explicit | 12755 words

“I have a request.”

That’s what Louis Tomlinson says to Harry when he opens the front door a bit too aggressively. The latter feels justified after a round of annoyingly incessant knocking that was much too loud in the drowsy sludge of early Saturday morning.

“Zayn’s asleep,” is Harry’s tired, hoarse reply, irritation prickling at his skin. Less than a minute ago he was in bed, feeling perfectly content sprawled out on the mattress with the chilled air from the fan cool against his bare skin. And now he’s leaning up against the wooden door frame in nothing but his briefs because Zayn’s best mate decided that showing up unannounced at seven in the fucking morning was a brilliant idea.

“I’m not here for him,” says Louis curtly.

12) A Vivid And Wistful Melody | Explicit | 13128 words

"Slowly, he takes his violin out of its case, listens for a few more minutes to Louis’ flute, before joining him as best as he could. The flute stops for a few seconds, and Harry imagines Louis blinking cutely, taken aback, before huffing with a smile, and starting to play again, on a suddenly far happier tune. Harry closes his eyes as he twirls around the living room, violin in hand and music filling the air. He pictures Louis doing the same in his own flat while being careful as to not step on his cat.

Somehow, even with heavy eyes and tired limbs, this is the happiest Harry has ever felt in years."

In which they are neighbours stuck at home and they happen to start talking through a wall with a piano, a violin, and a flute. They end up writing the soundtrack of their own love story.

13) Until This Blood Runs Cold | Explicit | 13685 words

In a town as small as Louis’, everybody knows everybody and gossip spreads faster than the wildfires that rage on just outside their backdoors in the sweltering heat of summer. When something happens here everyone knows about it within seconds. Neighbors call neighbors and notes are left on doorsteps, old telephone lines ringing until there isn’t a single person who is left in the unknown.

So it’s definitely hot gossip when a vampire moves in across the street from him, the very same one who’s just become Louis’ boss.

14) A Road To Hope | Explicit | 18280 words

Note: There is no explicit smut but its implied BL.

“We’re far from the people and their issues, don’t hold back. Please.”

It’s true. They are far away from anything that could stop them, the middle of nowhere being the safest place on Earth for them to fall in love. The sacred land where sacred love is created. However, Louis is certain that even if they weren’t safe, he wouldn’t resist the sight of Harry, his pleading eyes, his warm skin beneath his touch.

15) Your Eyes Of Blue, Your Kisses Too | Explicit | 21785 words

When they get out onto the streets away from the crowds Niall turns to walk backwards, “So did you get any leads?”

“Well- uh.”

Niall shakes his head, “Too busy kissing that pretty boy onstage, I see. Gonna blow the whole case for a piece of ass?”

16) Thinking About Peaches | Explicit | 23724 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic, which is #18 on this list.

Eight smutty drabbles following the events of bruise you like a peach.

17) Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds | Mature | 38065 words

Broadway shows were one of the few things that could keep Louis’ attention for a full two hours without needing to move about. But not tonight.

The alpha next to him was both infuriating him and practically turning him on at the same time. He needed to leave. The alpha, that is. Louis was staying.

18) Bruise You Like A Peach | Explicit | 40694 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #16 on this list. 

There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ.

The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.

His name is Louis Tomlinson.

19) Falling Out Of Fashion | Explicit | 42123 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry Styles has been the established face of the Grimshaw House of Design for two years. It’s a prestigious and coveted modeling contract Harry took away from once-famed supermodel Zayn Malik. With the model transition Grimshaw’s designs went from a more urban, Zayn-forward aesthetic, to a Harry-favoring flowery, flowing femininity in the Grimshaw designs for men.

So when Harry sees a dress Grimshaw made for a famous Marvel actress, “only a tease”, Nick says, of the evolving look, Harry knows Grimshaw is shifting his aesthetic.

Harry wonders if he can pull off the look.

Or could Grimshaw be looking for a new face?

20) Secretly Dating | Mature | 43615 words

Lottie groaned, looming over Louis with a glare. “If we’re late, Mum and Dad will never let Harry see me – ie. see you.”

It was the first time they openly addressed the fact that Harry saw more of Louis than Lottie on their supposed ‘dates.’ He supposed he knew as much, but it still startled him. “You’ve been setting us up!”

Lottie snorted, cocking out her hip and brushing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Honestly, Harry. You’re so dense. To be fair, it was at Louis’ request.”

Louis’ mouth gaped like a fish as he jumped to standing position, wobbling only slightly. “Don’t sell me out!”

Lottie rolled her eyes. “Come on lovebirds.”

21) You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) | Mature | 95417 words

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

22) The Healing Song | Mature | 111851 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis was carrying the large stuffed elephant like it was a baby, it’s trunk hanging over his shoulder and down his back and it’s front legs were resting around his neck, like it was hugging him. Said elephant was a present from Louis’ close friend Steve, who had thought Louis needed something to hug on bad days and had gifted him with a stuffed elephant the size of a one year old.

Steve had been right. Some days Louis did need something to hug, and this elephant was as good as anything.

Louis was having one of the rougher days. The harmonious state of the anxiety free life of a fearless Louis had ended the week after he met with Harry. It ended as abruptly as it had started. It was like pushing a button. Lights out. Almost as if the universe said “You’ve had your fun, crazy one, now go be sick” and slammed the door in his face.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[pregnant-piggy]

Eight Christmases - eight year

Hermione Granger x reader

This is part of All i want for Christmas is fanfiction

A/N: this is the final part and i hoped you enjoyed it! this was definitely the hardest part to write, because it took some self-acceptance to write this. Writing this has been an amazing way to get to peace with myself and I want to thank you all for reading and commenting/reblogging! You are amazing!

‘Merry Christmas, honey.’

You opened your eyes to be met with the sight that you hoped to be seeing forever. Hermione was lying next to you, her head popped up on her hand, and she wiped the hair out of your face. You took her hand in yours and pressed a kiss to her palm.

‘Merry Christmas, love,’ you said against the skin of her hand. Hermione cupped your face and pulled you in to place a sloppy kiss on your lips. You giggled at the feeling and when Hermione pulled away she kept hanging over you. You tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled up at her.

It honestly was the sight you hoped to be seeing for the rest of your life. The simple crush on your best friend had evolved to a deep love that, luckily, was reciprocated. After the battle of Hogwarts you had thrown everything out of you, confessing your feelings for Hermione in such a rush that you had to repeat yourself so she could understand you. But while you feared for your friendship, Hermione had smiled and kissed your promptly. Ever since then it had been you and Hermione.

The funny thing was that no one seemed to be surprised by it. Not even Ron and Harry, who were known as the two most oblivious guys you had ever met. Your mother had only been more than happy, but you hadn’t expected any different from her.

Hermione had gone to Australia to undo the memory clearance of her parents. They had decided to stay in Australia and you and Hermione were planning a visit to them in the new year. But even they hadn’t been surprised when Hermione told you that you were together.

The amount of support you had gotten had blown you and Hermione away. The wizarding community wasn’t exactly most known for their progressivity, but not one of your close friends and family had given you trouble.

‘At what time is your mother coming?’ Hermione asked, resting her head on your chest.

‘She said one, so it will probably be more close to two,’ you said.

‘So we have plenty of time,’ Hermione said with a grin and she lifted herself over you and started to press kisses to your face. ‘Plenty of time for plenty of kisses.’

* * * * * * * *

You were together with your mother in the kitchen, while Hermione was entertaining Harry and Ron in the living room. The rest of the Weasleys, Molly, Arthur, Charlie, George and Ginny, would come over later for dinner. Bill and Fleur were spending Christmas with her family in France and Percy was stuck at work, but would come over later that night. The Weasleys were as a second family to you and Hermione and you were excited to have them over in your own apartment.

You were cooking with your mother. Or better said, your mother was cooking with your little help. She was making her special holiday turkey and you had been put on the Brussel sprouts. There was soft music playing in the kitchen and the chatter from the living room reached the space through the open door.

‘It smells amazing in here, y/n,’ Hermione said as she entered the kitchen and she wrapped her arms around your waist.

‘Well, that’s mostly my mom,’ you smiled and pressed a kiss to the side of your girlfriend’s head.

‘The Weasleys will be here in fifteen minutes, so I’ve put Harry and Ron on duty of setting the table,’ Hermione said and she let go of you to take the plates and glasses from the kitchen cabinets. She placed them on the kitchen table and called Ron and Harry.

Because the kitchen was too small for such a big group, you and Hermione had put a big table in the living room. Harry and Ron set the table with help from Hermione and you and your mother listened while continuing with cooking.

‘You’re really happy here, aren’t you?’ your mother asked as she looked over at you through the steam coming from the pots on the stove.

‘I am,’ you said genuinely and smiled as you heard Hermione scold Ron because he dropped on of the plates. ‘She makes me happy.’

Your mother wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye and opened her arms for a hug. You buried your face in her neck and she wrapped her arms closely around you. Although you loved living with Hermione and you wouldn’t want it any other way, you did miss your mother. It had always been you and her and now she suddenly wasn’t there anymore. You missed her laugh in the morning and her strong coffee at breakfast. Luckily you saw her more than enough. She was always just a phone call away and you knew that she’d cross the world when you asked.

* * * * * * * *

Dinner was a big success. Everyone ate until they couldn’t anymore and you and your mother got many compliments.

You were sitting next to Hermione and Ron and you were listening to Ginny and Ron bickering over who of the two would give up first in an eating competition. On the other side of the table your mother was talking to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. You couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but their pointed looks at you and Hermione told enough. Opposite of you Harry was involved in a conversation about the dragon from Gringotts with Charlie. Somehow every time those two to spoke to each other, they talked about that.

The only ones who weren’t talking were you, Hermione and George. The latter was listening to Harry and Charlie’s conversation and Hermione was just as you listening to Ron and Ginny. You leaned in closer to her and rested your head on her shoulder.

‘Happy?’ you asked softly and Hermione nodded.

‘More than happy.’

Instead of making the effort of walking back and forth between the kitchen and the living room, Hermione charmed the plates to fly to the kitchen, where they started to clean themselves. A bottle of wine was opened and soon a second followed when Percy also joined your party.

‘I hope I’m not late,’ he apologised as he sat down. His face was flushed from hurrying and his hair was standing straight up, as if he had been walking into the wind.

‘Don’t stress, Percy,’ you said and got up from the table. ‘Have you had dinner yet?’

When Percy shook his head you went to the kitchen to make him a plate with what was left from dinner. Mrs. Weasley followed you and when you were alone in the kitchen she complimented you for the wonderful dinner.

‘You and Hermione really did a great job, dear. It is nice to see everyone together after such a difficult time. And now everyone is grown up and we only see each other at holidays and birthdays,’ Molly said and the tears glimmered in her eyes. ‘I missed this. Thank you for inviting us. We’re not even family!’

You put Percy’s plate down and took Molly into a hug. She sobbed lightly in your shoulder.

‘Of course you are family! And I wouldn’t have rather invited anyone else in the world,’ you said and Molly squeezed you a little before she let you go.

‘Oh, you are too sweet,’ she sniffed, but smiled at you. ‘Now go bring Percy that food before that poor boys starves. He works so much lately…’

* * * * * * * *

When the door slammed shut after the final person left, you sighed. You loved Ron and Harry, but they always stayed just a little too late. Hermione was in the kitchen, putting away the dishes and humming along to the song on the radio. You stood still in the doorway and smiled as you watched her move her hips to the music.

‘…it’s the most wonderful time of the year…’ Hermione sang over the radio and you giggled. Hermione quickly turned around and her cheeks turned a little red when she noticed you were watching her. You went over to her and placed your hands on her hips. She wrapped her arms around your neck and you swayed to the music for a while.

‘I had fun tonight,’ you whispered as you rested your chin on Hermione’s shoulder. She nuzzled her face in the crook of your neck and her breath tickled your skin as she spoke.

‘Me too, it was nice to see everyone together.’

The music died out and a silence filled the kitchen for a second before another song started to play. It was a more upbeat melody and you made Hermione laugh by bouncing up and down. She let go of you and laughed at you before she pressed a light kiss against your lips. You pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. Hermione placed her hands below your jaw and her thumbs stroked your cheeks softly.

When you pulled apart you were both breathing heavily. You bumped your nose against Hermione’s and smiled at her.

‘Merry Christmas, my love.’

- - - - - - - - -

taglist:

general HP: @kitkatkl @girllety @yuptha-tsme @sleep-i-ness @iamak20 @thefuturelawyer @weasleydream @missmulti @deafgirltingz @moonstarrnghtsky @mytreec @lilulo-12fanfiction @emmaloo21 @kashishwrites @ananad1 @figlia--della--luna @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @mrs-malfoy-always​ @thefandomplace​ @magicwithaknife​ @mt2413​ @aesthetically-hailey​ @superbturtlemakerathlete​ @the-natureofme​ @missswriter​ @hahee154hq​

MASTERLIST

[avian-writes]

Alice & Avi in Pelican Town

Me and my sisters play as our OCs in Stardew Valley so here are some snippets of their time in Pelican Town! It’s in a different style than most of my WIPs, so please tell me what you think~ :)

Words: 1,239

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

Alice laid on the twin bed all by her lonesome in her darkened bedroom, curled up in the thin blanket with her face buried in the mattress. Hidden from the cruel, hideous world that took her grandpa from her. One that refused to even give its empty condolences; one that went on without the last stable presence in her life; one that didn’t give a damn her world was shattered once again. The same one that already took her parents and most of her siblings away.

Her fingers dug into the fabric until the quilt started to form jagged bruises in their design. Quickly letting up her hold but not letting go of her lifeline: brown and pink squares stitched together lovingly just days before passing. A sniffle escaped her throat and she snuggled deeper into her cloth abyss.

A knock at the door interrupted her lamenting, opening without invitation to enter. Her brother kept his distance though she knew could practically hear his hands clenching and unclenching, wanting to hug her. “How are you feeling?”

Silence. The only answer he’d gotten for days. When they got the call. When they were at the funeral home. When they visited the grave every week for the past month. Bits and pieces of dialogue that just turned into no speaking at all at some point.

Avi sighed and held up an envelope. “How about this?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she poked the very top of her head out. Just enough as an acknowledgement of her brother’s proposition. He smiled and opened the letter, scanning it thoroughly several times before walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Read it.”

Multiple seconds went by, but Alice finally slowly rolled down the blanket to take the letter then snapped it back into place over her head. She read the letter under the safety of her deflated fort while Avi waited patiently.

After a long time, even after reading and rereading the fateful letter, she emerged from her swaddle and sat slumped over on the bed. “Are we going?” she asked.

He expressed visible relief at hearing her voice and she sucked in a teary breath. “I don’t think we really have a choice. Do you want to stay here?”

Alice leaned back to the window hanging above her head. The tops of the city buildings blocked the view of the open air sky that she dearly missed. Loud noises of hustling and bustling beneath the apartment created a tent of mayhem that just irked her the wrong way.

It wasn’t like that always in her life. She and Avi had lived in a house by a lake at one point. With Alex and Laurence. A beautiful one with a basement just for the two of them. With a dock and large yard and space between them and the rest of town. Before they had to move. Before everything happened.

Now they only had each other left. And a home they had to share with tens of other people. People that didn’t care about them.

Her quietness was answer enough and Avi tapped her head. “That settles it then. Pack your bags when you’re ready and I’ll call the town. Make sure there’s a bus line that gets that deep into the valley.”

His hand gently fell off her head and Alice caught it in time to give it a quick squeeze before letting go. So fast, anyone else in the room would’ve missed it, but that’s fine. It was their thing, not anyone else’s. Not like there was anyone else ever there to witness the siblings’ strangeness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``

“I’m living there.”

“What?” Avi followed her pointing finger to the house near what used to be their grandpa’s home. It was around the same size, just in a different style that somehow both matched and didn’t fit the rest of the farm aesthetic. “Why?”

Alice shrugged in a way that she hoped was nonchalantly. “I want to live on my own. At least somewhat.”

Avi narrowed his eyes at the building. It wasn’t overgrown and was missing the spare logs for the fireplace jutting out from the roof. But it was pretty to Alice and that’s all that mattered. “Looks too unstable to live in.”

“Like this crappy house is much better.”

“Hey! Watch your language.” A breeze blew past and he tightened his jacket around his shoulders. “At least sleep in the house with me tonight so I can look at it tonight. Make sure it’s livable for you.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but she knew he would fight her step of the way if she disagreed and she just wanted to get started. “Fine. So what are we doing?” she asked, kicking over a stray stone.

Avi handed over his parsnip seeds to her. “Mayor said something about a woman who sells cows, chickens, stuff like that over in the forest. I’ll talk to the carpenter tomorrow about building a coop and barn.”

“Can you even take care of animals?”

Avi shrugged. “Animatronics, living animals. Similar things.” He ruffled her hair and she ducked from his hand. “Don’t worry about it. Just pay attention to the crops and we’ll be fine.”

She groaned and lightly stomped her foot like the child she definitely wasn’t. “I don’t want to work with the crops. Why can’t I do something more exciting like...fishing or something?”

“Since when is fishing more exciting than the food we need to grow and sell?”

“Since I decided I hate farming.”

“We’ve been here twenty minutes, you’ll grow to like it. Maybe we’ll get lucky and there will be monsters around here for you to fight.”

Alice crossed her arms. “I see one right now,” she grumbled but relented. She tossed her hoe in the air, catching it on its way down effortlessly, and smacked it into the ground in one fell swoop.

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

The dance festival was a somber occasion for Alice. She didn’t know anyone well enough to ask them to dance and she didn’t feel anywhere near confident enough to ask if she and Avi could dance something they don’t know with the others in front of everyone.

So she and her brother stood in the shadows, back in the corner of the forest, while everyone got ready. Beautiful girls in beautiful dresses, handsome guys in somewhat ugly jumpsuits. She didn’t know how she felt about potentially wearing the dress but the yearning to be part of the ceremony was easy enough to ignore.

Alice knew she had a vague memory. Of standing on her father’s shoes while he danced them around the room. Step by step around the furniture, across the wooden floor. Before being handed off to each of her siblings who flew her off her feet. All while her mother played their favorite songs on her slightly burnt fiddle.

The music began to play, barging into her happy thoughts and dwindling them down to their bare austere manner. The memory turned sour and the warm atmosphere surrounding her felt like a tease.

Silently, she took Avi’s hands and he helped her onto his boots. As the younger people of the valley danced out in the open, the two siblings danced to their own little tune hummed under her breath. A few villagers who took notice simply smiled and turned their attention back to the larger spectacle, leaving them be.

[poisonedapples]

Roman Gets Help 1/5: Bad Nights

Part One: Virgil

Part Summary: Roman is always trying to make his anxiety more manageable with a bunch of different tactics. But a disorder is a disorder, and some days are worse than others. But at least his best friend Virgil is around to help.

Part of the Service Dog AU!

Pairings: Platonic Prinxiety

Warnings: Past panic attacks, medication, anxiety, Remus making poop jokes because he’s Remus, swearing and food mentions

Word Count: 2,751

Taglist: @hold-our-destiny @pricklyfish777 @romansleftshoulderpad

Notes: Cornybird on Ao3 deserves Many Squishmallows for editing so much of my stuff, including this. So send visual squishmallow vibes to her, she deserves it

Virgil really should have known something was weird when Roman didn’t text back.

The two had made plans during lunch to meet up at Roman’s house so he could help with Virgil’s Spanish homework. Roman was infinitely better with language stuff than Virgil could ever dream to be, and even when the work was done, it was always nice to hang out in his room and get away from his wild parents every once in a while. But since Roman left school early and Virgil had to stay after for band practice, he hadn’t heard or seen Roman in a while.

That in itself wasn’t weird, though. What was weird was that when Virgil texted him that he was on his way, Roman didn’t respond. Not even with an emoji reaction or a simple ‘okay’. But even then, what was even weirder was that Virgil was right outside his door, texting Roman to open it for him, and he still wasn’t responding.

Virgil checked the last three messages he sent to Roman’s phone. All of them were marked as delivered but not read, which was also very concerning. What could Roman be doing that he hadn’t checked his phone in thirty minutes? Virgil got anxious when he didn’t read messages immediately, let alone waiting half an hour.

Virgil sent him one last text before putting his phone away. You there? I’m outside.

No response. Virgil knocked on the door and shoved his hands in his pockets, waiting and shifting on his feet for someone to open the door. After a couple minutes, he started to think Roman had just forgotten.

However, a slight spark of hope rose up in him at the sound of the front door opening. But when Virgil looked up from his shoes to the person at the door, he felt his shoulders sag.

It wasn’t Roman who had opened the door. There was no shy and apologetic smile with Princess right under his feet. Instead, it was his bastard brother in ripped jeans and a green tank top, blowing bubblegum like a bully in a 90s Nickelodeon show.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite emo! What brings you here, Raven Way?” Remus asked, leaning on the door frame with a cocky smile.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “You’ve already used that one.”

“It’s my favorite nickname for you. It’s the perfect brand of insulting. It has spice to it.”

“I’m glad you’re entertained then. Is Roman out somewhere?”

Remus cocked an eyebrow. “No, he’s been up in his room. Last I checked he was as passed out as a corpse.”

“Okay...can I come in then?”

Remus smiled and opened the door for Virgil, taking a bow as he stepped inside. Virgil rolled his eyes again. This guy is so fucking weird. “You know where his room and the shitter is. Just follow the trail of dog hair to his royal highness.”

“You terrify me, Remus.”

“Good! That’s the aesthetic I’m going for. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with a bigass thing of chili dip in the fridge that may or may not be expired. We’ll see!” Virgil’s eyes narrowed as Remus skipped back to the kitchen and right to the fridge, but he really didn’t want to be around for that mess. Instead, Virgil went upstairs and turned left to Roman’s room, the colorful Disney decorations covering his door. Virgil knocked twice, but when met with no answer, he came inside anyway.

The first thing Virgil noticed was the lights. The windows and blinds were shut tight so no sunlight could get through while Roman’s fairy lights around his room were turned on. The soft twinkling gave the room a feeling of calmness, but the sight on the bed was more concerning than tranquil. Princess was sat down on top of the bed comforter with two arms wrapped around her, Roman blending in with the sheets he was under as he shoved his face in his dog’s fur. At least she didn’t seem to mind.

Roman looked up at the sound of the door opening. Virgil felt his heart sink when he saw the tear streaks down his face and his messed up hair, but Roman tried his best to respond to Virgil anyway. “Hey…”

Virgil took off his shoes and threw his backpack onto the floor next to the door. “Hey, dude. You look like shit.”

Roman made a strange huff sound, probably meant to be a laugh. “Thanks.”

He buried his face back into Princess’ fur, and Virgil felt that pang of worry grow stronger. He moved to the other side of the bed, sitting alongside Roman and his pile of blankets and pillows. “You okay?”

Roman shrugged. “I’m doing better.”

“What happened?”

“Panic attack.”

Virgil sucked the air through his teeth as a way to say yikes. “Seems like it was a pretty bad one.”

Princess rolled over onto Roman’s chest, and Roman cuddled even closer than what Virgil thought was possible. He looked so small when he did that. “Worse than usual.”

“Do you know what caused it?”

“No. Sometimes it just happens.” Roman kissed the top of Princess’ head. “Anxiety just...does that.”

“Yeah, I get it. Trust me, out of everyone you know, I’d probably be the one to understand it the most.”

“...Yeah.”

An awkward silence fell between the two of them. Virgil didn’t actually know what to do when Roman was like this. He’s stopped him from having panic attacks in the past, but he’d never seen him look this bad. Roman was curled in on himself under the covers, gripping onto Princess for dear life in an attempt to soothe himself. His pile of stuffed animals usually spread around the bed were now in a giant pile around his body, and his weighted blanket poked out from under the comforter too. It looked like he was trying his hardest to get comfortable, and Virgil didn’t know what else he could do. A distraction? A nap?

Well, only one way to find out.

Virgil took a deep breath in. “...Is there any way I can help?”

Roman shrugged again. “Not that I know.”

“Did you take a nap? That usually helps me the most.”

“I just woke up. My meds knocked me out.”

“Your meds?”

Roman took a pill bottle from his nightstand and showed it to Virgil. He read the confusing label that all medicine bottles have, but the name of the pills was long and unfamiliar in Virgil’s mind. Roman placed them back once Virgil got a good look and curled in on himself more. “Panic attack meds. They help you calm down really quick when you’re having an attack. They always put me to sleep after. Remus likes to call them my tranquilizer dart.”

Virgil snorted. “I mean...accurate name. I’ve just never seen you with those before.”

“I only take them on bad days. My therapist warned me about how I shouldn’t take them after every panic attack, because then I’ll never learn how to deal with them on my own, and I might get addicted. Which I’d rather not.”

“Yeah, I know about the addiction thing. I used to be on anti-anxiety until last year.”

Roman tilted his head up to look at Virgil for the first time. “Really?”

“Yup. I got eased off them after a while, though. Now I just take an antidepressant, which honestly isn’t much. I think everyone in our friend group is on some kind of meds.”

“...Patton?” Roman asked.

“Patton’s one depressed mother fucker. I say that out of love, but yes, he’s also on antidepressants.”

“And Logan?”

“...Dude. Epilepsy.”

Roman let out a silent oh. “...I forgot you take meds for that.”

“Our brains are fucked up and we accept this.”

Roman flashed a small smile but didn’t respond. After that, the two had fell silent as Virgil awkwardly patted a beat on his leg to put his nervous fidgeting to use.

What do you do for someone getting out of a panic attack? It was obvious Roman wasn’t in a talking mood, but it was killing him inside to just...sit there while he looked so helpless. But he’d never had to deal with this with a friend before. The worst he’d dealt with were Patton’s bad depression days, and those had nothing on how horrible Roman looked right now. And if he already took a nap...what else were you supposed to do after a panic attack?

Virgil thought back to his own experiences. Of course, Virgil’s anxiety was nothing compared to Roman’s, but it was better than nothing. And comfort worked no matter how bad you felt, even if it was only a little.

He thought back to his own parents. How his mom would hold him and let him cry into his shoulder if he needed to, but that was too awkward for him to do with Roman. His dad would let him curl up and watch him play games on the console, which could maybe work…

...Then Virgil remembered another thing his mom did once after one of his worst panic attacks. It might be a bit embarrassing because of intimacy, but it would help Roman feel better. And that’s all that matters.

“I’m gonna go get some stuff, okay?” Virgil said, “You stay right here.”

Roman hummed. “Wasn’t planning on going anywhere, but okay.”

With that, Virgil hopped out of Roman’s bed and left the bedroom.

First, he needed a water bottle. Roman probably had some water when he took his meds, but it likely wasn’t enough to stop a headache after all the crying. Virgil went downstairs to the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. While he was there, he looked through the rest of the fridge and noticed that there was no container of chili dip in there anymore. Gross.

Expired chili dip aside, he would need a face rag as well. Virgil went through a hallway on the first floor to the older bathroom downstairs, looking through the drawers for a decent cloth. A small one was hidden in the back of the drawer with some bottles of face wash and lotion, so Virgil grabbed that and took a mental note to put it back later. He stood in front of the faucet and stared at it for a while.

Was cold or hot water better for getting tears off someone’s face? Warm water seemed like it’d be more comfortable, but cold water could also be more refreshing. He thought about the possibilities for a while and settled on warm based on his own preferences, turning the hot and cold handles to where the water was only slightly warm, wetting a side of the cloth then turning the faucet off.

Before he left the bathroom, Virgil grabbed a couple squares of toilet paper and then headed out the door. He was back in Roman’s room not even five minutes later, setting his stuff on the nightstand for a second as he grabbed his DS from his bag and turned it on. Roman glanced up from the bed with a confused look, but didn’t say anything. Virgil came back next to the bed and motioned for Roman to move to the middle. Reluctantly, and with some shifting of Princess still at his side, Roman did so.

Virgil sat in Roman’s old spot and grabbed the wad of toilet paper. “Here, sit up and blow your nose. The last thing you need right now is more breathing problems.”

Roman grunted as she shimmied out from under his weighted blanket to sit up against the headboard of his bed. He took the toilet paper from Virgil and blew. “...Thanks.”

“No problem. Now just stick with me for this next part, because I’m not good with touchy-touchy shit, so this’ll be a little awkward.”

Roman gave Virgil a confused look, but he didn’t say anything. He grabbed the damp cloth and silently tilted Roman’s head to face him. Virgil tentatively lifted the cloth to his face and wiped the tears from under his eyes, the gesture mixed with the warm water making Roman hum in content. Virgil didn’t acknowledge what was happening, he just wiped off his friend’s face, flipping to the dry part of the cloth to dry him off after.

“There. That should help you feel less gross, anyway.”

“Thanks...it helped.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” Virgil set the cloth to the side and handed Roman the water bottle. “And drink this, it’ll help with that nasty headache you probably have.”

Roman twisted the cap open and chugged the bottle, finishing half of it in record speed before putting it down again. Virgil could tell by how fast he chugged it that his head was probably throbbing.

“Feeling a little better now?” Roman nodded. “Wanna watch me play Harvest Moon until you probably pass out again?”

He nodded again, Virgil scooting closer to him so Roman could place his head on his shoulder as he watched. His hand combed through Princess’ fur as Princess trapped the other under her paw to lick. Most people would think it was gross, but considering licking was one of her grounding techniques, he was desensitized to it by now. “Which one do you have?”

“A New Beginning. I’ll show you all my cows because they’re bomb as fuck. My first cow is named Oven and I have a baby one named Chaos.”

Roman laughed as Virgil started up the game. “Awesome. You play it often?”

“Eh, sometimes. It’s not my favorite game, but I carry it with me because it’s good for calming anxiety down. All I gotta do is feed my animals and mine and shit. Nothing else matters, you know?”

Roman nodded as best he could from Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil loaded up his save file and started to show Roman around his farm, mostly skipping the crops and going straight to the pets and farm animals with the most ridiculous names Virgil could get away with using only six letters. Virgil chatted away about his game and read all the speech bubbles out loud, showing off his wife who he swears he married platonically since his character was obviously gay and talking about his rivalry with the hair stylist. Roman wasn’t responding much, just a few hums and little laughs here and there, but Virgil didn’t mind. So long as his friend was feeling better, that was all that mattered.

A while later, Virgil was baking desserts for a contest being held in town when he spoke up again. “I’m shit at cooking good stuff in this game, but I can make some neat pancakes, apparently. I’m gonna make this contest my bitch.”

There was no response. That wasn’t very strange in itself, but usually when Virgil sweared, Roman at least made a small huff of a laugh from his shoulder. But this time, he was completely quiet. Virgil looked over at his shoulder when he almost awwww’ed out loud.

Roman had fallen back asleep, his mouth open slightly with his arms cuddling Princess extra close as she seemed to relax alongside him. He was adorable, and in a moment of softness that Virgil would deny to the end of his days, he helped Roman to lay back in bed and brushed the hair out of his face. Roman still clung slightly to him even as he slept, so Virgil accepted his fate and moved to curl up alongside him, continuing his game with a smile on his face.

“Your sleep schedule is gonna be absolutely fucked, dude.” Virgil said. There was no response, obviously, and Virgil didn’t talk to his sleeping friend after that. He just took a mental note to tell his parents he was staying the night before it got too late and kept caring for his farm.

Maybe later he’d wake Roman up and get him some dinner, letting him recharge and take a shower before they actually had to go to bed. He’d be too awake to actually sleep at first, but the company of his friend and the comfort of his dog would keep him calm through that, even when Roman hated being awake past eleven. Patton may even find out and tease Virgil about having a heart after all, which Virgil would deny until the end of his days. But his edgy reputation wasn’t what mattered right now.

Instead, Virgil smiled and cuddled closer as Roman slept peacefully.

[tragedybunny]

Wise Men Say, Only Fools Rush In - Chapter 1: Welcome to the Jungle

What I had expected was an interview, a proper face-to-face with the chance to prove my suitability to my potential superiors. What I had was maybe twenty minutes on the phone with the notorious CEO before he cut me off abruptly. “That will be enough for today, Ms. Du Couteau. I’m perfectly convinced your Father is correct and you will be more than sufficient for the role here.” From the moment he spoke I’d noticed that while rich and cultured, his voice carried a certain quality to it, a sense of superiority, as though he held himself above those around him. It seemed to me that it was genuine confidence though, unlike Father’s smugness, which always seemed to be from a place of compensating for whatever. As rich and powerful as he, I could only think he had short man syndrome with his insecurities. There was something dark as well in the tone of this Mr. Swain, he was not a man to be trifled with. “Provided you do not prove to be inept in some way I can’t predict.”

It was probably unwise that I gave in as I felt my temper flare at the unnecessary condescension. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Swain. I can’t wait to prove myself sufficiently competent for my future with Noxus Holdings.” The sarcasm rolled off my tongue before I could catch myself, my eyes going wide and a hand moving to cover my mouth as though that could undo what I’d said.

There was a long pause on his end and I held my breath, sure that I’d just burned this whole thing to the ground. “Very well, we’ll expect you in two weeks. I’ll have all the details forwarded to you.” I could’ve sworn he sounded almost amused and I died a little bit inside.

Hanging up, I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, and was thankful I was alone so no one could see their crimson hue. Had I really just snapped at the most important person at my new employer, the CEO of the company that my whole future hinged on? And he hadn’t said anything. Either this was one of those “I like her moxie” types of situations or there would be hell to pay later. The latter was usually the case for me anyway.

It was with that peculiar encounter in mind that I found myself waiting in the lobby of Noxus Holdings wearing a subdued gray suit, hoping to look less like the hot-head I’d proven to be over the phone. I swallowed a nervous exhale and glanced around, a carefully constructed fantasy of an industrial office space from a century ago surrounded me, all glass, and iron, and deco style windows. An escort from my department should arrive at any moment, and I wanted to be damn sure I looked as cool and confident as possible. It wasn’t as if the job itself would be a challenge, contracts and fending off lawsuits from angry ex-employees and investors, nothing I hadn’t done before.

“Red!” A richly accented, yet horrifyingly familiar and obnoxious voice broke the quiet ambiance of the lobby. The pair of receptionists on duty shot furtive glances toward the source in unison before returning to what they were doing. Standing just in front of the elevator, a black suit with a yellow blouse perfectly accenting her bronze skin, was a woman I’d hoped I’d left behind on graduation day, Samira.

How had I missed that this was where she’d ended up? I’d stayed in touch with some of our old sorority sisters, and they kept me in the loop on a lot of the gossip about everyone. It made a lot of sense though, she had a truly vicious nature, there was no way she wasn’t thriving here. I inhaled, feeling a slight twitch in my eye at even this small interaction, and walked toward her. “Hello Samira, it’s been a while.” My voice remained level and surprisingly pleasant, I just needed to treat her like every troublesome, idiotic client I’d ever been assigned, even if I felt irritation clawing at every one of my nerves. It had always been like that, something about her just grated on me.

“A while!? We haven’t talked since the Phi Sigma Tau farewell party.” The wind was suddenly knocked out of me as I found myself in a very unwelcome embrace. “Not that anybody saw much of you that night, well except Garen. Not that I blame you, a moonlit beach, a few good drinks, perfect romantic atmosphere.” I was freed only to be nudged harshly with an elbow as Samira leered at me in a teasing manner. “And I heard he saw quite a bit of you out there on the sand.” The laugh that followed was at least quiet enough that we didn’t instantly become the center of attention.

An involuntary snort escaped me and I felt irritation starting to give way to outright anger, my mind buzzing and my vision starting to tunnel. “I’m surprised anyone noticed with the other incident that happened that night.” My pleasant mask remained in place but reminding her I wasn’t the only one with a story from that night filled me with a sense of petty satisfaction, especially since hers ended with the wail of police sirens.

“What can I say, it was a wild night all around.” Her arm looped through mine and she began to drag me toward the elevator. “See, it’s just like old times.” For a moment I wondered if she could truly be this oblivious to my intended insult. That was answered a moment later she leaned in and violently whispered in my ear. “Don’t think you can fuck with me Red. Your Daddy’s name isn’t going to get everything just handed to you here.” I’d just made horrifying mistake number two. There was no way she hadn’t been baiting me to see what reaction I’d have. With reckless force, she jabbed the elevator button and spoke in a more audible and warm tone. “I’m sure we’ll find ourselves to be best friends all over again.”

I nodded silently, not wanting to give her a response that would encourage her further. These last few moments had brought my new reality into stark clarity. I hadn’t expected to waltz in and find myself in a top position with no work on my part, but I hadn’t anticipated that I’d be met with outright hostility. If it was just Samira that would be one thing, but were there others lurking in the shadows that I’d have to wary of? Maybe deep down I had still had some delusion about the family name being a shield of sorts, those were just entirely shattered. It would get me no further than it already had.

A vintage styled, cage-like elevator came to a stop before us. An insistent tugging on my arm pulled me into it after her, her pleasant smile frozen into place. The doors closed, a cheery ding sounded, and we dropped all semblance of civility to glare at one another. “My dear,” my eyes rolled reflexively at the honeyed tone, “we are going to be working very closely. Try not to lash out every time I make a harmless joke. I know you are used to things being smoothed along in the family business.” Nails dug into my palm, there was no way she could know the truth, but still, I fought an urge the physically quiet her.

I know a powerplay when I see one, this whole scene had been staged to give Samira a sense of dominance in our new arrangement. And there was no way I could retaliate with her seniority over me. At least not yet. I could feel bile creeping its way up my throat as I realized that if I was going to succeed and build my life of independence, there was nothing I could do about it right now but live with it. There was the small consolation that I gleaned something else from this encounter, if Samira was taking direct action it was because she was threatened. I’d always been the better lawyer, all throughout school and our intern days. It was likely I wouldn’t end up having to live with her antics for long. To that end, I released a breath and relaxed my shoulders. “You’re right. Let’s start this whole thing over. It’s good to see you again Samira.”

A small noise of approval escaped her and she turned away to face the elevator doors, clearly satisfied with my conciliatory act. Well, even if she had won the battle for today, there was still a war to be fought. Another high-pitched ding and the cage stopped at one of the upper floors. The same aesthetic carried through here, exposed venting ran along the ceiling, gray carpet accented the dark wood and iron-finished metal of the walls, artfully uncovered “antique” light bulbs illuminated anywhere the natural light from those same intricate windows from the lobby didn’t reach. “We should really track down Darius and I’ll introduce you.” There was an implication she was doing me a favor. Another small irritation, the whole department reported to him, it was expected we’d meet. “He’s the VP and also head’s up the acquisition team along with lega-Ah!”

Samira had turned to speak over her shoulder at me and midspeech was physically halted by a collision with a figure appearing from around a corner. I stifled the laugh that bubbled up, she’d desperately deserved that little impact. “Sorry Sam, don’t kill me. Well hello there new and gorgeous.” His tone shifted from apologetic to a practiced arrogance somehow in perfect harmony with the goatee he sported, one that I can only imagine he believed was attractive. The obvious leering that accompanied his words left me with the urge to bury my knee in his groin.

“Draven, this is Katarina, she’s just starting with us in legal. Should I let your brother know what a warm welcome you’re giving his new employee?” The newcomer’s face visibly became several shades paler. Interesting, it would seem that Noxus was also a place of family ties. “Kat, this is Draven, head of marketing.” For once, I couldn’t blame her for the annoyance coloring her words.

A hesitant hand reached out toward me and I made sure to lock my grip on it firmly. Years of martial arts as a hobby had left me with deceptive strength in my small frame. Pale blue eyes widened at the sudden pressure as I smiled sweetly. “Very pleased to meet you Draven.”

Shockingly, he returned my smile when I released his hand. “You’ve got a bit of a spark, I’ll bet you fit in just fine. Lookin’ forward to working with ya.” Wordlessly, Samira led on as Draven waved pleasantly behind us. “Be nice to this one Sam!”

An irritated sigh escaped her, but she waited until we were out of earshot to speak again. “Nicely done,” a compliment, he must really rub her the wrong way, “he’s harmless, but it’s good to keep him on a short leash.”

The hallways we passed through lacked the small cubicle farms you would find on the lower floors, instead, there were plenty of offices, conference rooms, and occasionally open-plan shared workspaces for teams who worked closely together. It was in one of those workspaces, bordered by offices, that Samira finally stopped. The buzz of those gathered in the area halted, and all eyes turned toward us. Silence reigned even as the curious examination of the newcomer was evident. “Everyone, this is Katarina, our new team member I told you about.” Murmurs welcoming me to the group responded, they were subdued though, as if they were afraid to be too excitable in front of Samira.

Despite the outwardly friendly moment, I kept my face neutral, and voice aloof as I returned their greetings. Any group within a company this high profile would be extremely competitive, and I’d be damned if I was going to start by giving off an air of weakness. They were probably already appraising me, deciding if I was any real threat to their positions.

“I see I’m right on time.” A deep voice cut through the subdued chatter and a massive figure approached us. Clad in a simple, but clearly expensive suit, his presence seemed to fill the entire space as he exuded a calm confidence. There was also something familiar about him, I was sure he had been at the family firm before.

“You couldn’t give me an hour before checking in, could you?” Indignation caused her voice to go up an octave in pitch, an effect that was quite satisfying for me.

The newcomer’s eyes narrowed dangerously, my first taste of the office hierarchy in action. Impatiently he gestured for us to follow, and not wanting to seem daunted by the sparks, I cut in front of Sam, following to an office that was nearby. Once the door was slammed behind us, I realized it was her office, the degree proudly displayed on the wall bearing her name. Tension enveloped the three of us. “Don’t start Sam. I’m not trying to babysit you.”

She clicked her tongue and muttered in defeat. “Fine, just make it quick.”

The full attention of the room fell on me. “Darius Basilich, pleased to finally meet my newest team member.” He held out a hand for a much more dignified handshake than the one I gave his brother. “Sorry we haven’t had a chance to talk before now, Jericho doesn’t always give us a head’s up when he’s decided something.” The gruff words had a frankness and sense of honesty about them that was refreshing. I took note of the use of Mr. Swain’s first name, it was good to know who he was that comfortable with.

Releasing his hand, I could recognize that he’d be my first ally here and one that I needed on all fronts. “I believe we’ve met previously, while I was interning for my father.”

In answer, he offered a small, but genuine smile. “Thought you looked a bit familiar. Must have been when I was wrangling Draven out of that mess.”

Sam, who had sat behind her desk and started furiously typing, snorted. “Your brother is always into something.”

My expression must have faltered because he let out a weary sigh. “I see you’ve met. Anyway, great to have you on board. It was a shock that Marcus was willing to let one of the kids go.”

My stomach crawled as I recalled the last two weeks of verbal abuse I’d gone through, not just from Father, but Cassie as well. All because I dared to leave them. I was never more grateful for my apartment, that space that was mine alone, and no one could spoil it. Leaving the family manor was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. Of course, I couldn’t get into any of that, so I just shrugged nonchalantly. “Who would’ve guessed.”

“I’ll let you get settled in, we’ll talk again soon. Sam, play nice.” They glared at each other one last time before he exited.

“You two have a problem?” I ventured. Knowledge was power, so I needed to get the lay of the land quickly.

Laughter met my words. “Nah, Darius and I just have an endless pissing contest. He’s alright, but I am going to replace him as the boss’s favorite eventually.” No surprise it was some obnoxious game of hers. “Anyway, let’s get you settled in the office, I’m sure it’s not the posh corner you had a Daddy’s, but you weren’t expecting that anyway.” If the thought of returning to him defeated didn’t make my stomach heave, I would’ve knocked her out cold. Instead, I shot her a cold look and followed to my new office; small, windowless, and suspiciously right across from hers. A few seconds later we were joined by a short, pale woman with tight pinned brown hair and ice-blue eyes, about our age. “This is Alyssa, she’ll get you set up.”

Several hours, and an aching back later, my mind was completely overloaded with passwords, computer systems, and file paths. Stretching, I felt the siren call of the cozy little cafe I’d spied in the lobby. Turning to Alyssa, I could read in her expression she was in the same mind frame I was. She’d proven to be easy enough to get on with, that was one victory for the day. Our backgrounds intersected in a way, she’d come from a family business as well. However, she’d sold her share of the ownership of Ironspike Industries to Noxus on her way through the door. It had been a nice payday and guaranteed her a stable career no matter what. Most would consider it a cold-blooded move, but I could get the perspective that family wasn’t always sacred. Besides, she laughed easily enough and had a comeback for every bit of banter. “Hey…”

The door flew open with a sudden violence, Samira standing behind it. “You’ve been summoned Red.” A hefty binder dropped from her arms onto my desk with a resounding thud. “It’s been requested that you escort this up to the top floor for Mr. Swain. He wants to read through it before it’s presented to the board and he has a hard-on for physical copies.”

My heart lurched as I rose from my seat. I hadn’t expected it to come this soon, meeting the CEO I’d had the gall to snap at. “Well, wish me luck Alyssa.” My voice was deadpan flat and Samira gave me an odd look. Maybe the incident hadn’t become common knowledge as I’d feared.

The elevator ride was not nearly long enough as the gilded cage ascended the final few floors to the very top of the building. I stepped out, binder held in front of me like a shield, only to realize that Samira hadn’t given directions beyond the floor. An empty receptionist’s desk stood sentinel, the occupant clearly out to lunch. Beyond it was a foyer with branching hallways. Hesitantly, I stepped forward to glance down them. “End of the center hall.”

The deep voice from nowhere caused me to jump a little. Darius, of course his office was up here too. “Thanks,” I ordered my voice to remain cool and collected.

“Let me guess, Sam neglected that bit?” He chuckled slightly. “She really wants to assert herself with you.”

“It seems a certain level of ruthlessness is the Noxian way.” Some of the tension faded. Despite the fact that he was very nearly a literal giant, Darius was much less intimidating than you would think. In fact, there was almost a warmth to him.

He shrugged. “We buy and sell other companies. We have the whole of another person’s world in our hands. It helps to keep an edge about you. Although I imagine it’s not a problem with your background.”

It would seem that everywhere I went, the Du Couteau name would haunt me. If I wasn’t outright reviled for it, I was at the very least, notorious. Father had a reputation for ruthlessness, a reputation that had been handed down the generations with the firm starting with my great-grandfather. “You’re not wrong.” Even if I was shadowed by the name, the lessons I’d been taught in the cause of that reputation ensured I could be cut-throat when necessary. His words reassured me that even if the name itself couldn’t, the legacy of it could definitely serve me here. “Catch you around Darius.” I gave him a confident smile and a wave as he headed toward the elevator.

The walk down the hall was short with no other offices present and ended in an impressively large door made of dark stained wood. Before I could give it any more thought, I quickly knocked. “Enter.” The voice from the other side sent a shiver down my spine with the combination of confidence and callousness that I recognized from the interview. Again, I couldn’t hesitate, so I obeyed the order as quickly as possible. Afternoon sun streamed in from a wall of windows across from the door, throwing the massive desk to the right into shadow. Contrary to the sleek, artistic industrial look of the rest of the building, this office had the look of a cozy personal study. High-backed chairs surrounded a table to the left, bookshelves lined the walls. The L-shaped desk was made of warm cherry wood with brass embellishments and looked like a genuine antique. “Ah, Ms. Du Couteau, we meet at last.” Looking up from his computer screen as I approached, he fixed me with a piercing gaze that I would swear could read my thoughts.

My breath rushed from my lungs. That cultured and captivating voice I knew, but the physical reality of him I hadn’t been prepared for. Elegant cheekbones and a proud nose gave him a regal bearing, but his high arched eyebrows and deep-set, midnight eyes put it under a pall of severity. The long mane of silken looking, white hair that flowed down his back could’ve offset it, if not for the scowl he was currently giving me. Overall though, his attractiveness took me by surprise, the elegant silver-fox not the visage I’d been imagining since our call. That fact critically distracted me, leaving me frozen where I was at the edge of his desk far too long. “Well, I don’t have all day.” Inwardly I cringed, what the hell was wrong with me.He motioned to the binder that I still clutched with a hand that gleamed bronze in an errant ray of sunlight that had fallen over us.

“Right.” I passed the burden into that outstretched, lustrous hand.

He all but snatched it from me. “Yes, it’s prosthetic. You could ask instead of staring.”

My eyes went wide with horror, I hadn’t realized that I had been. “My apologies, Mr. Swain.” My father’s triumphant laugh as I begged to return rang in my ears.

Turning his chair from his monitor, he dropped the binder with violence on the desk and began to thumb through it. The pace was such that it gave the impression it wasn’t the first time he’d seen it. “Did you have the opportunity to read through this?” He asked without glancing back up at me.

“No, I hadn’t.” Mercifully, my voice remained steady.

Turning it toward me, he tapped a fingernail on a paragraph. “Tell me what is wrong with this?”

Leaning down, I skimmed through it quickly, my mind translating the legal jargon without effort. At first glance, it was a contract for our purchase of yet another company. What had he seen in it? What was I looking for? Ah, it wasn’t a sentence, it was the whole paragraph. “There’s no commitment for the transition from the current leadership. They can dump and run, leaving us without support.”

“Very astute.” Well, he didn’t lose the scowl but there was a subtle note of approval in his voice. It felt like I could inhale again finally, I might still be able to salvage this. “Take it back down to Samira and tell her it will not make it to the Board this week. I want Darius to answer how that was overlooked.”

Warily, I gathered back up the binder as he sat back in his chair, on guard as though he were somehow dangerous. “Will that be all?”

“For now.” His eyes were drawn back to his monitor, and I began to turn away, sensing dismissal. “Fine enough job for the first day, Ms. Du Couteau.” The small compliment halted me mid-pivot, a small touch of warmth blooming in my stomach and a smile tugging my lips with the unexpected approval. I opened my mouth to answer, but was cut off. “Hmm, you know, this should be further reviewed. Samira already has a lot on her plate. Let her know that you’ll be taking the lead on this for the department. Darius will bring you up to speed.”

The world around me spun. Take that Father, I’m already getting the recognition I had to scrape and fight for every day with you, even when I’d accomplished something. “Will do, Mr. Swain.”

I strode from his office, feeling at the summit of the world, but a curious sensation of butterflies filled my stomach. As the door shut behind me, I let myself smile wide. I’d done it, sufficiently impressed him, the CEO with the ruthless reputation, the known hardass, the man with...with those captivating dark eyes. “Reign it in Kat.” Furiously I whispered to myself. “You’re engaged and you’ve seen attractive men before.” My mind betrayed me though, flooding me with the sensation of having those eyes focused on me as I walked.

Silently lecturing myself, I headed back to the elevator. The sudden vibration of my phone from my jacket pocket shook me from the cycle of my thoughts. Pulling it out, the notification seemed there just to judge me, Garen’s smiling face poised next to it. “Hey dear, how’s that first day going?”

[xplrerdolan]

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐆𝐔𝐘 [ 𝘊𝘖𝘓𝘉𝘠 𝘉𝘙𝘖𝘊𝘒 ]

⤬ SUMMARY: Colby thinks he may have met the one. Amber is everything he’s ever wanted; he’s never been so in love before, he’s sure of it. And then he meets you—and suddenly, Amber’s once shining colors seem so dull. He knows it’s wrong, but the more he resists you, the more he wants you—and the more he hates himself for it. ➝ NOTE: this fic is written from Colby’s perspective.

⤬ WARNINGS: cisfem!reader, adultery, swearing, consumption of alcohol [reckless; in excess], smut, unprotected sex

⤬ WORD COUNT: 4.5k

⤬ DISCLAIMER: this is a work of fiction. i do not condone the act of cheating, and in no way is this fic meant to glorify or promote adultery.

© xplrer on Tumblr // asteriasyzygy on Wattpad

pinterest aesthetic board // spotify playlist

❋ ❋ ❋

I loved Amber—love her. I swear. Everything from her auburn hair and honey-brown eyes. She dazzled me when we first met, and I want to believe that those feelings are still there. They're just buried... really, really deep.

It was killing me; she was killing me, slowly and torturously. With her claws impaled in my ribs, still sinking, threatening to own every part of me—down to my last breath.

It was getting bad. Or maybe that's just what I'm telling myself to provide me some sense of comfort. "Getting bad" was an understatement; even "getting worse" didn't do it justice. The other night, I did something terrible—so far beyond bad or worse that my stomach clenched every time I thought about it.

For the first time in weeks, Amber and I got intimate. I wanted to remind myself of who I had fallen in love with a year ago. I wanted to pull myself out of the mess I'd made; I wanted to pull Amber right back into my arms and lock her there tight.

We fucked in the dark—my first mistake. My second: I fucked her from behind. Hearing her moans, which normally drove me wild, was making me soft inside her. I didn't give her time to notice. I did the only thing I could do. I twirled her hair around my fingers and pulled her back, lifting her upper body off the mattress toward me. I brought my other hand to her mouth and silenced her. She perceived this as an act of dominance, not of shame.

I screwed my eyes up tight and thought of her. The mere memory of her sent blood coursing through my groin again, making me rock-hard inside of Amber. I focused on the wisps of her image that flashed through my mind as I chased my orgasm so it could all be over.

In the midst of my euphoria, I nearly called out her name—[Y/N]. I felt it teasing the tip of my tongue before I swallowed it forcefully, her name swelling in my throat and choking me. Tears rose to my eyes and I pulled out of Amber quickly, the evidence of my crime mocking me from inside the condom. I pulled it off me in disgust, flinging it towards the trash can and probably missing.

Amber—bless her heart—started to comfort me. "Baby, don't worry," she said softly, pulling my hands away from my face. "Don't be so hard on yourself. It's been a while. I didn't expect you to last long. Besides, I enjoyed myself while it did."

Her smile was so sweet. It took everything in me to not break down right there. I pulled her in for a tight hug to hide my face. I held my breath until the burning feeling in my nose went away and my tears dried. I kissed her cheek, fighting the bile rising in my throat as I did so. It's not that she disgusted me—I disgusted myself.

Without a word I stood from the bed and went to the shower. I turned the tap all the way to the left, the water quickly becoming scalding hot. I forced myself to stand under it, my back arching away from the heat as it assaulted my body. I grimaced as I endured my self-inflicted punishment, grabbing a bar of soap and scrubbing at my skin desperately. I wanted to wash her away. I wanted to remove the layer of skin she corrupted. Twenty minutes and half a bar of soap later, I resigned myself to the fact that it wasn't working. When I stepped out of the shower, my skin was a stark red.

I tried to remember all the pain of that night as I drove to her house for what I promised myself would be the last time.

❋

I didn't tell her that I was going over there to talk. I just told her I was coming over. To be completely honest, I told her instead of asking to feel like I had some control over the situation knowing I didn't. From the moment I'd met her, she had me wrapped around her finger, tucked neatly under that silver and amethyst ring she wore on her left middle finger—the one I'd first complimented her on when we met.

My fingers curled around the steering wheel in response to the flood of memories from that night; her little black dress, shamelessly flaunting her body; her body, the source of my hypnosis, my obsession. Even among a slew of memories I wish I'd never made, I savored the image of her body—covered, uncovered; coated in sweat as we fucked in the backseat of my car, drenched in water as I fucked her against the tile walls in her shower.

That night, she'd walked right up to me and snatched the red-solo cup right out of my hands before taking a long, deep drink from it. In fact, she drained it. The amethyst in her ring glittered as she handed my cup back to me, and since I was already pretty drunk, I didn't pay any mind to the sheer audacity of her careless, crass actions. Looking back on it now made me puff out a dry laugh and shake my head at myself. Our very first interaction was a red flag—[Y/N] took what she wanted when she wanted, and once she got what she wanted, she discarded what she didn't.

If I could go back, I'd say, "Get the fuck away from me." But hindsight is 20/20, and that's not what I said. On my way to incoherence at the hand of alcohol, I slurred at her, "Ni—cool, uh... thingy."

Couldn't decide on an adjective, couldn't remember the noun. Completely helpless in her presence from the first moment. And just like every other time she left me helpless, she just giggled at me for it. She found it funny, the effect she had on everyone around her. Everyone—men, women, nonbinary people, regardless of their sexuality or how attracted they were to her sexually. Every person she touched or talked to or smiled at was instantly inclined to like her. She was the kind of person who made you insecure in your own desirability—not just sexually, but whether people desired to be around you, and if people desired to be your friend. She was the kind of person you craved approval from. You could beg her for it with your eyes, try to get her to say it out loud, but she never budged. She left you hanging, dangling in front of her judiciary stare.

Imagine what happens when a person like that decides she wants more than just the drink in your cup? more than the shirt off your back? more than what you have to give? Here I am, the remnants of an answer.

She informed me that the thingy on her finger was a ring. She held her hand out, fingers sprawled, palm down. Innocently (ignorantly) I held her fingers in mine and gently twisted them, just barely turning them to the left and right, to watch the crystal glitter. Its edges were jagged, the rock as sharp and raw as her sense of humor. I traced the swirls of smoky purple with my eyes, squinting to really focus.

She humored me as I was clearly very drunk. She was feeling the buzz from the drink she'd stolen from me, and she was keen to catch up. When Tara, who had brought her to the party, walked up to her with a cup filled one-third of the way with brown liquor, which I could see from the shadow against the plastic, she was only too happy to take it with her free hand and immediately chug its contents. Rather than cringing from the taste, she stood before me with her eyes closed, humming. I stared at her in awe, my attention ripped away from her shiny ring while my fingers were still wrapped around hers. I only snapped back to reality when she pulled her hand from mine and gently pushed up against my chin to make me close my mouth.

After my mouth was closed, her fingers lingered on my skin, and subtly—quick enough for no one else to notice—she trailed her thumb over my bottom lip. She told me later that she liked the way it always made me look a little pouty, even when I smile. I had a feeling it only did that around her—when I was reduced to a beggar.

Stopped at a red light, I looked into the rear-view mirror and examined my lower lip. I ran my fingers over it, exactly where hers had been, and heaved a sigh through my nose. I could never look at my own lips the same way again.

I remember that I'd tried to tell her I had a girlfriend; I'd giggled it out, sounding like a little boy about to do something his mom had told him not to. Rather than backing off, she only seemed that much more interested. She didn't like being told she couldn't have something. And she'd take it anyway, just to prove she could, just to spite the rules.

She got off on the idea of making a loyal man disloyal. Whether it was to prove there was no such thing as a loyal man or to prove that she could get anyone she wanted no matter the circumstance, I don't even think she could say. It might be a little bit of both.

As I pulled onto her street, I solemnly admitted to myself that she'd done more than prove both, even with me walking away today. Walking away today didn't negate that I'd walked toward her before. The memory of the first time I met her was often revisited with anger; anger directed at her. Until now, I'd blamed her for my actions. But she hadn't been in that bedroom a few nights ago. She hadn't replaced Amber with herself, I did.

I knocked on her door twice. She called back to give her a second, and I could hear her music playing in the background. When she reached the door, she swung it open and posed in the doorway.

An involuntary whine came from the back of my throat, feeling briefly lightheaded as the blood in my body redirected south. I peered down at her over the bridge of my nose as if tipping my head away from her would make her any less irresistible.

She stood before me, dressed only in lingerie. The lacy ensemble was a bright cherry red, the color stark against her beautiful skin. The bralette cupped her breasts as if it were made for her body—and knowing [Y/N]'s tastes, it probably was made for her. The lace detailing continued down over her ribs, and a satin bow rested at the base of her cleavage. The matching panties came up to her waist, and a bow matching the one on her bra sat just under her bellybutton. They were incredibly simple, but her beauty and grace made them seem intricate and complex. What really killed me was the matching sheer boudoir robe, with its satin belt tied around her waist, emphasizing her curves, and its faux-fur trim surrounding her like a demonic aura.

She took my resistance for teasing, giggling at me—or maybe she could see right through me, and she knew I was desperately trying to resist her. And maybe she planned to dress as she had just to ruin me.

But truthfully, that's exactly what it did. And because I'd already accepted that I was a pathetic, weak bastard, I let my resolve crumble. One last time, I thought firmly. One last time and then it's over.

I brought my left hand to her waist, the satin belt feeling like heaven against my fingertips, and pushed her back into her foyer and shut her door, pretending for the moment that she was mine. She was mine and she wanted me as much as I wanted her, and she didn't want anyone else.

My hands moved up to cup her face, my thumbs tracing over her jawline. My eyes roamed her face freely, looking over her features as though I hadn't memorized them already, as if they weren't stained on the backs of my eyelids. Her gaze steadily met mine, a twinkle dancing in her eyes like she knew just how much power she had over me. She knew how weak I was for her.

For fuck's sake, she hadn't even touched me yet and I was already drunk on her. She'd left me breathless with just a look; she'd stolen whatever fragmented sense of control I had left without so much as a "hello."

Somewhere between wallowing in self-hatred and drowning in lust, I pressed my lips against hers, welcoming the sweet torture. Her lips felt softer than the satin draped over her waist. My hands started exploring her body, pushing past her robe to grab at her ass over her panties. While the feeling of it was enough to send a thrill through my lower abdomen, nothing brought me more euphoria than hearing her respond to my touch.

Her moans sent me out of my body; the only thing I cared about was her pleasure and being the source of it. My fingers pushed the red lace to the side before properly gripping the plump flesh, massaging it gently the way I knew she liked. It pleased her enough to earn her fingers raking through my hair, tugging on the little hairs at the base of my neck to make me whine.

It pained me that she had found that sensitive spot of mine in the few weeks we'd been sneaking around while Amber still hadn't found it after a year. My eyebrows knitted together, and I pulled [Y/N] tighter against my body, savoring these last moments of true satisfaction. The friction between our bodies made me harder than Amber had made me in months. Among the embers of my burning lust flared the searing heat of self-hatred; indulging in her made me a masochist to my own sadism.

I guided her backward through her hallways, the route all too familiar. We stumbled into her bedroom, making sure to lock the door—hiding from even the pictures on the wall.

On a less significant day, I'd be ravishing her. But, as I reminded myself sternly, this would be the last day I spent with her—I had to savor it. Despite telling myself that over and over again, the reality of it hit me hard at that moment. I felt myself choke on the emotion, my body betraying me as I felt tears prick at my eyes.

I refused to allow [Y/N] to see it. I turned her around, facing away from me, and gathered myself. While I calmed myself down, I slowly trailed my fingers over her sheer robe from her wrist up to her shoulders, raising goosebumps along her skin. I focused all of my energy on disrobing her, not letting a fraction of my attention slip elsewhere—especially not toward inconvenient, intrusive emotions.

My hands moved to caress the bare skin of her chest, just above her gorgeous breasts. They traveled south over her bust and then settled on the delicate bow holding the garment together. I undid the bow gently, taking my time loosening it. I could tell she wanted me to hurry—she sighed and pressed herself against me—but, just this once, I was going to indulge myself first.

I shushed her softly, drawing the sound out as I brought my mouth next to her ear. I whispered to her, "I'm going to take my sweet time having my way with you today."

She shivered against me, my breath fanning over her sensitive skin tickling it just right. She chuckled softly, an amused smile stretching over her face. She then clicked her tongue and cast a gaze over her shoulder, considering me briefly. Apparently, she decided to play along; her body relaxed against me, allowing me to control the pace.

I carried on with my actions, pulling the garment off at a painstakingly slow pace before draping it over a chair in the corner of her room. Her stillness made her look statuesque; I wouldn't be surprised if she turned to stone right before me, proving to be some artist's rendition of perfection.

"Lay down for me, on your back," I ordered.

She complied. If I didn't know any better, I might feel like I had some control over her, like she was naturally submissive. But the truth was [Y/N] merely allowed others to feel dominant; we both knew it was me who followed her, not the other way around. But for the moment, it was nice that the cat humored her mouse.

I crawled across the bed, pausing to hover over her and steal a kiss. Before I pulled away, she tugged at my shirt by the hem, wordlessly commanding me to remove it. I pulled it over my head by the neck, tossing it haphazardly to the floor. I leaned over her again, my hands on either side of her head, my arms outstretched.

She trailed her nails softly over my arms—always careful to not leave marks—before resting them on the back of my neck, pulling me down toward her again. She kissed me then like I'd never been kissed before: with a gentle passion, a soft intensity. She must have known—somehow, she must've.

When she pulled away from me, I lingered above her with my eyes closed, still processing the complex emotions she stirred in me. As I contemplated this, she pressed another kiss to my lips, this time quick and succinct, a little peck. It was enough to ground me back in reality.

I moved down her body, trailing open-mouthed kisses across her skin. I watched as her chest began to rise and fall faster the closer I got to her core, feeling more pleasure from causing her arousal than I'd felt in my entire relationship with Amber.

I situated myself between her legs, scooping my arms under them so they rested on my shoulders. She shot me a confused glance as I had yet to remove her panties, making me smirk. I blew softly over her covered core, a sensation that would do little more than tease her. She sighed again, a wry smile on her face. I was staying true to my word of taking my time with her.

I closed my mouth over her center, pressing my tongue against it to dampen the lace and taunt her with a feeling just on the cusp of pleasure. I sucked the cloth into my mouth, drenching it further, making sure it just barely grazed her most sensitive spot. She moaned, the sound a mix between pleasure and frustration. She ground her hips toward me, seeking more from me. I felt drunk on her desperation and wanted to feel more of it. I brought my hands to her hips and held them down, continuing her slow torture.

She balled her fists in the sheets, pouty moans falling past her lips. I felt her resist the pressure I placed on her hips, but I wasn't ready to give into her. I delivered a sharp, quick smack to her outer thigh. She gasped, relaxed into me, and let out a low moan.

After another minute of making her endure my teasing, I pushed myself up on my elbows to pull her panties off, earning a sigh of relief from her. I returned to my position and pressed kisses to her skin—along her thighs, in the crevices where her legs met her hips, and all over her mound. Finally, I kissed along her lower lips, starting at the very base and working my way up to the place she needed me most.

I settled my attention on her clit, slowly swirling my tongue around it, earning the tiniest moan from her. I then sucked the bundle of nerves into my mouth to further stimulate her, watching her back arch slightly and pull even harder at the sheets.

I couldn't stop watching her reactions. I felt myself growing impossibly harder at the sound of her moans, the head of my cock starting to throb. I lapped at her ambrosial juices, my tongue roaming the entirety of her pussy. She really started to squirm for me when I slipped my tongue into her, curling it up each time it entered her. After teasing her with my tongue, I brought it back to her clit and moved my left hand to finger her with my middle and ring fingers, sucking on the hardened bundle of nerves while my fingers pumped in and out of her.

At this point, her fingers were in my hair and her legs trembled around my head. She moaned my name in pleasure over and over, seemingly incapable of saying anything else. Her head was tipped back into the pillows, her back arched dramatically. I brought her closer and closer to her orgasm, my eyes trained on her writhing figure, enjoying the view immensely.

It didn't take long for her walls to start clenching around my fingers, a feeling that made my dick twitch in anticipation. I sped my fingers up, curling them up to tease the most sensitive part within her. Her voice broke off as she reached her peak, her hips grinding against my mouth desperately. My fingers worked through her high, slowing down as her body relaxed again. I lapped at her folds for a few moments longer, just enjoying the taste. When she looked down at me again, her eyes were filled with lust and affection.

When I crawled over her again, I pressed my lips against hers in a long, sensual kiss. I felt her push against my chest, wanting me to lay back so she could return the favor, but guilt weighed heavily in my stomach at the thought. As badly as I wanted it, I truly did not deserve it, and I would rather feel regret and longing than even deeper guilt. I chuckled into her mouth softly and shook my head.

"I can't wait any longer," I lied, pulling her bottom lip between my teeth. She moaned softly at my words, her nails scratching lightly over my chest.

I pulled away from her to finish undressing. I kept my eyes on hers, watching her reaction as my cock slapped against my lower abdomen, feeling a rush of lust as she subconsciously bit her lip. I attempted to crawl over her again, but she shook her head, sitting up.

"I wanna ride you," she purred. Another wave of lust washed over me, making me moan softly. I laid back against her pillows and watched her straddle me.

She leaned down to kiss me, grinding her dripping pussy over my shaft as she did so. A strangled moan escaped me; finally getting the attention I'd been craving was enough to make me quiver under her touch. She teased me like that for a while, working me up even more—the sweetest torture.

Finally, she allowed me to slip into her, my eyes rolling back into my skull at the feeling. She let out an erotic moan, the sound mixing with my own gasps of pleasure. I gripped her hips as she worked them over me. My eyes lazily trailed over her body, drinking in the sight of her gorgeous body.

She placed her hand under my chin and lifted my gaze up to meet hers. When our eyes locked, my heart stuttered in my chest. We held eye contact for a long moment, long enough that I felt myself unravel beneath her.

Then, she smirked down at me, a little giggle slipping past her lips. It was incredible how she could do so much to me while doing so little. I flipped our positions, surprising her, making her giggle more. I couldn't hold back a chuckle and a wide smile myself. I swooped down to kiss her before working my hips against hers, the feeling of her pussy around me making my mind go almost completely blank.

In fact, horrible as it was, the only thing on my mind was how much better it felt to be with [Y/N] than Amber.

I dipped my head down, biting marks into her neck—a luxury she could afford. She tugged on my hair, hard; it was the only thing she could do without leaving any evidence behind. I shut my eyes tight, trying to push the image and memory of Amber from my mind at this moment, focusing only on the woman underneath me.

I brought a hand up to grab a fistful of her hair, tugging on it to expose more of her neck to me. I sped up the rhythm of my thrusts, my teeth grazing against her sensitive skin. I felt my orgasm approaching, so I brought my thumb to her clit and rubbed it vigorously, wanting to feel her clench around me one last time.

I knew her body well enough to make it happen. Not even a minute later, the walls of her pussy fluttered around my cock, a stuttering, breathy moan escaping her. The way her legs trembled around me and her hips rolled up to meet mine sent me over the edge, making me cum harder than I'd ever cum before.

I rested inside of her after the fact, my head nestled in the crook of her neck. She played with my hair, humming contentedly as she gave me a moment to collect myself. When I finally did pull out of her, I reached over for the baby wipes she keeps on her nightstand, cleaning myself and her up carefully.

I laid back, opening my arms to her. She curled up next to me, laying her head on my chest. I stayed silent for a few moments, trying to enjoy my last few moments of peace for what they were—the calm before the storm.

When I took a deep breath, [Y/N] already knew what was coming. I explained my feelings to her in as little detail as possible—I was too ashamed to admit to her that I'd been replacing Amber with her in my mind, but I suspected she already knew.

I left her fifty bucks for a Plan B, kissed her once more, and left her house for the last time.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Rumor Has It {12}

Chris Evans x Famous Reader Uriah “Riah” Tyler-Evans

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Angst

Word Count: 4.5K

Summary: You and Chris have been married for four years after a whirlwind romance. You are both happy and trying to navigate marriage in the public eye while balancing your successful careers. In the entertainment industry, not everything is as it seems, the flash of a camera lens impairs vision. As scandal and flashing lights put a strain on your once fairytale marriage is it possible your Hollywood marriage can stand the test of the rumor mill?

**Inspired by a video seen of Chris and his co-star Ana De Armas on their press tour for Knives Out at TIFF where she kept touching his chest and face standing about five inches apart.

**NOTE: A WORK OF FICTION. NOT CREATED TO GARNER HATE OF ANY SORT.

**Loosley Edited/Proofread**

**Slightly Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤❤

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

You weren’t crazy. That was the fact and no matter what you wouldn’t be made to feel like you were. Yeah, you understood he was hurt and probably disappointed that you would even think to ask him if he was being unfaithful after everything. It was his right to feel however he felt, it was also your right to feel the way you felt. Something was going on and you didn’t know if he was gaslighting you and leading a secret life behind your back, or if you were imagining things and this was all your insecurities speaking. You knew that if this continued your marriage wouldn’t survive.

 After Chris left he stayed gone. It wasn’t until the next day you were told by Jennifer his assistant that he’d made arrangements to stay in a separate room until checkout. You were hurt but you didn’t say anything. Though she knew something was up, she didn’t bring it up. You spent the next day apart while he continued work. When he came back to the room it was only to tell you that the schedule had changed, and he’d be flying out to LA sooner. He told you that you could fly with him or do your own thing. The way he spoke was so indirect, so aloof. It felt as if he were building a wall between you.

 When you tried to approach him, he backed away. If you tried to bring up the problem at hand he changed the subject. His annoyance was clear, so you decided to let him fly out and you’d find your own way. When you said that he hesitated and looked even more hurt. You didn’t know what the hell he wanted from you. he didn’t take the time to explain it either, he just left. You were keeping count, that was number two.

Thanks to the four-hour delay of your flight out of San Diego you had ample time to think about your situation and try to come up with a plan. You hated to think that bitch outplayed you and created an even bigger issue. Deep down you knew she wasn’t as innocent as she played, it was clear in the way she underhandedly set Chris on you by tattling to him about brunch. She could have kept it to herself, could have let it roll off of her, but she chose the sneaky route. This was a game for her. Before your flight took off you shot a message to Zora and Kizzy. It was time to get the Three Musketeers together, three heads were better than one.

 MSG: Meet me in LA. The Three Musketeers have work to do.

 The weather in LA matched your mood, dreary. The rain beat down on the concrete from the minute you walked off the jet. It was like a monsoon. Once you landed your phone went off with messages and notifications.

 MSG Chris: The weather isn’t so great. I tried calling to make sure you were okay. Maybe you should hang back a little longer to wait out the storm to be safe.

 It sounded like worry, but it could just as easily be him wanting to keep you away from LA for a few more hours so he could have extra time to fuck around.

 MSG Chris: I haven’t heard back. Call me when you get this Uriah let me know you’re okay.

 As you climbed into your waiting car Kizzy and Zora were waiting in the back.

 “Woah, how did you guys get here so fast?”

 “You said we had work to do. We know Three Musketeers is code,” Kizzy announced.

 You smiled. “Let’s go get that bitch,” Zora added.

 You busted out laughing and threw your arms around both of them. At least they didn’t think you were crazy.

 “I love you guys so much.

As the car drove through LA from the airport you filled them in on what happened in San Diego. The more you told them about Ana’s demeanor the more they thought she was behind everything. Both Kizzy and Zora firmly believed that Chris was innocent and that he would never do something like that to you. They were so sure about it you wanted to believe it too. You just didn’t know what the hell to think. The fact was he thought you were crazy.

 The three of you went through evidence over the last few months to either prove or disprove that he was being unfaithful. As you did you found new information, new pictures, and sly comments in interviews that you hadn’t even focused on before. The three of you were like Inspector Gadget on crack in the backseat of the truck. You combed over evidence better than secret agents and the FBI and came up with theories and theories for those theories.

 Once you pulled up at the house the case was closed, and the verdict was conclusive—or two out of three conclusive.

 “This bitch is scammin’,” Kizzy blurted out as you walked inside. Chris’ car was not in the driveway, so you knew he wasn’t home.

 “I agree with Kiz, Riah. Everything that we’ve looked at says she is doing this and controlling it. This bitch is trying to wreck your marriage. The posts are strategic.”

 “The interviews absolutely strategic. She is the instigator in all of them. your dumbass husband is being friendly. Unfortunately for him his friendliness always comes off as flirtatious,” Kizzy added.

 “And this picture?” You held up your phone of the picture of her in the “eat shit” sweater. This picture really boiled your blood.

 “Bullshit, but I cannot explain just how the backgrounds are identical. You said the room you were in for brunch looked absolutely different. It is not uncommon for hotels to keep their design aesthetic similar for normal suites but for the statelier rooms, I’ve seen them be different in unique ways. This picture is suspect,” Zora admitted. You nodded and walked into the kitchen and took out a bottle of beer from the freshly stocked fridge.

 “So, you two believe Chris isn’t cheating but this picture overthrows your theory completely. We can’t even come up with an explanation.”

 “Take a breath. I know it’s frustrating,” Zora began.

 “Where are they now?”

 “According to Chris’ schedule, he has the final junket in an hour at the Fairmount.”

 “So that means she is also there. Let’s go,” Kizzy said as she sprang to her feet and bolted for the door. You and Zora just looked at each other, confused. When you caught up with her she was already in the driver’s seat of your pink metallic range rover, a gift from Chris.

 “Where are we going?”

 “Where do you think? Get in the car!”

 You and Zora didn’t waste any time and hopped in. If you were a hot head and crazy, Kizzy was insane. She went from zero to one hundred in one second and when she was at one hundred it was known to stay the hell away from her, just like you.

 As you drove Kizzy went through the plan. Get to the hotel, maneuver through it without being seen, find the part of the hotel where the junket was, remain hidden. After that Kizzy went into two variations, one that was perfectly sane and the other was straight up stalker. No man had you go full stalker. You couldn’t believe you were considering this. Since you guys had the time Zora suggested finding different outfits. It was just like her to always find time for shopping. Her reasoning was if you were going to play spies then you had to look the part.

 Forty minutes later you were parked at the service entrance of the hotel dressed in all black. You had to talk them both out of masks. They were taking this a little too far.

 “So, plan A or B?” their eyes landed on you waiting for you to decide how crazy you wanted to go. Did you want to sneak around and find out what you could, or did you want to find her bag and sneak through it, phone and all. There would have been a plan C if you hadn’t talked them both out of kidnapping and scare methods.

 “Let’s start with plan A.”

 It shouldn’t have been so easy, but you slipped through the back of the hotel which led to the kitchen. The hustle and bustle of the kitchen made sneaking around difficult so the three of you did your best to blend in like one of the workers. That was also easy despite being mistaken for delivery men and having to carry in ingredients for the upcoming dinner rush. Ten minutes later the three of you’d made it to the service elevator rolling a room service cart.

 “Good thinking grabbing the cart, Riah. We’ll blend in for sure.”

 As you stepped onto the elevator you pushed the top floor button and waited. You prayed no one came on the elevator but after ten floors your hopes were dashed. On the tenth, six people filled the elevator which had you discreetly hiding your face behind Zora’s shoulder. Thankfully none of them paid you any mind. On the twelfth the six additions left the elevator but as you were pressing the close button a hand stopped the doors from closing.

 “Hold the elevator please.” A few seconds later a woman you recognized walked onto the elevator. Quickly you dropped down to one knee and pretended to busy yourself with something on the second trey of the car. You kept your head down hoping to stay hidden.

 “Thank you for holding it,” Ana said.

 You peeked up at Kizzy and Zora who had their heads dipped own as well, Zora had her face buried in a notebook that was attached to the car and Kizzy lowered her black hat and buried her nose in her phone. This wasn’t either of your first times stepping into Three bad bitches mode.

 “Come on Chris!” Your eyes widened just at the same time Kizzy and Zora both peeked down to you with their eyes just as wide.

“I’m here, sorry I’ve been trying to reach Uriah to make sure she made it through the storm. She’s not picking up.”

 You noticed Ana give her assistant Cora an eye roll.

 “Uh-huh,” was her only reply. Chris continued tapping at his phone. You felt four vibrations on your ass and guessed it was Chris texting you. Part of you felt good about that. He was in this elevator with her and you were the only thing on his mind. Ana cleared her throat loudly.

 “Sorry.” He slipped his phone into his pocket and looked at the two women beside him. “Where were we?”

 “You were going to answer if you were in for drinks tonight,” Ana mentioned.

 “Oh, tonight? I don’t know. It’s been a long press tour I really want my bed and some beer.”

 “I can deliver on one or both of those things if you’d like.” Again Kizzy and Zora glanced at you. The air in the elevator quickly changed. Chris made a move to look back and it sent your head buried deeper under the cart. He cleared his throat and pasted an uncomfortable smile on his face.

 “Choice is yours, I don’t want you to feel pressured. I know you enjoy our time together more with no pressure.”

 What the fuck is she talking about, you asked yourself.

 “I’ll let you know, but I’m leaning to not tonight.” The elevator doors opened, and he was the first to step out. You watched as Ana’s eyes dropped to his ass, it was then she let out a small moan.

 “Yummy.”

 You were seconds from jumping up and grabbing that stringy hair of hers but Zora’s and Kizzy’s hands on your shoulder pushing you down stopped you. when the doors closed again you looked like death.

 “She is bold, I’ll give her that,” Kizzy said. You dug your phone out and checked your messages.

 MSG Chris: Uriah I’m starting to worry. Please call me.

MSG Chris: I know we’re in a weird place right now and we’re both angry but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I love you. Just let me know you’re all right, please.

MSG Chris: I will always love you.

MSG Chris: No matter what.

Pushing away the influx of emotion that washed over you, you stuffed your phone back into your back pocket and pressed the open button on the elevator bank.

 “Let’s go.”

 The three of you stepped off the elevator and carefully walked down the hall that had several posters from the movie set up. You passed one of Chris as Ransom and you were tempted to stop and admire it, but you ignored it. as you passed each room you saw different actors from the movie being interviewed—Daniel Craig, Jamie Lee Curtis, Don Johnson, Lakeith Stanfield, and others. When we passed Lakeith Zora almost burst into the room. She had the only crush on him and if she had the chance she would lock him in a room and have her way with him. If you asked her she’d say it was only a matter of time before he was hers. You and Kizzy had to hold her back to prevent her from blowing your cover. She was not happy but knew there was a job to do.

 After going down the halls and peeking into different rooms you saw the one Chris and Ana were on. They were in the midst of an interview. You watched on and took note of their chemistry. You could see why they were cast together, but it was clear she did not know the difference between pretend and real life.

 You bit your bottom lip nervously trying to keep the insecure thoughts away, trying to trust in the fact that Chris loved you, and that the chances of him being a sociopath were slim. You were mostly convinced but when you saw Chris reach out and touch Ana’s thigh just above her knee you saw red. She reached out to rest her hand on his but he moved it before she could. That didn’t deter her though, she reached out and took his hand and hugged it to her chest with a wide smile. You watched the back of his hand press against her breast where her cleavage was and decided to abandon plan A. You were ready to jump to plan C.  Almost as quickly as she put his hand to her bosom Chris took it back and gave an uneasy smirk. You pressed your back to the wall in the hall.

 “Plan B.”

 “That’s what I’m talking about,” Kizzy whispered.

 The three of you waited for your window of opportunity. The longer you waited the more time your rage festered. Every time the interviewers changed you got a message from Chris. Each of them showed his concern with reaching you. You knew he hated when you were radio silent and to remain that way would have been cruel, especially seeing he was genuinely worried about your safety.

 MSG: I’m fine. There were some delays and a lot of turbulence, but I landed okay.

 You didn’t have to wait long for a response.

 MSG Chris: Good, I’m glad you’re okay. Let’s talk. I have a little break at four, can you come by the Fairmount? I don’t want to leave things unsaid especially after everything we learned in therapy. I don’t want to backslide.

 At the mention of therapy, you softened, a little.

 MSG: Okay. 

The butterflies filled your gut even though you were furious at him. You took a few breaths and tried to still them, but it was no use. He still gave you butterflies.

 The three of you hung around spying but didn’t get much. There were a few breaks where Ana and her assistant chatted, and she pointed out to her how sexy Chris looked to which Cora agreed. Then there were a few moments where you caught her clearly trying to interject herself to initiate touching. The flirting was clearly one-sided, you could see that. You knew Chris’ flirting technique and you also knew his friendliness. He was being friendly; this was not flirting. That at lease placated your rage.

 By the time four o’clock rolled around you saw your opening. Cora who was holding on to Ana’s purse set it down and went over to her to go over some things. It was within reach, so you nonchalantly walked into the room took it up and walked right back out. You met Kizzy and Zora in a janitor closet and handed the bag off then made your way to an empty room to face your fate. The banquet room was empty. You walked to the side of the room where a stage was and slipped onto it. That was when you realized you still wore the black beanie. Just as you slipped it off your head and under your ass the door opened, and Chris walked in.

The sight of him sent the butterflies in your belly aflutter again. You took a few breathes and held one as he slowly approached you. The relieved look on his face changed to a timid one as he got closer and closer. Once he was about ten feet in front of you he stopped and stuffed his hands in his pocket.

 “I was worried.”

 “I know. There was a delay with getting the messages. I didn’t do it on purpose,” you explained. Chris nodded while keeping his eyes on you.

 “Riah, I don’t want to fight.”

 “You think I do? I don’t want any of this.”

 “Then how do we move past this?” He sounded exasperated like he was at his wit’s end. He probably was.

 “Have you slept with her?”

 “No.” The answer was flat out, clearly spoken and firmly meant. There was no quiver in his voice or hesitation with his response. Everything from that pointed to him telling the truth.

 “God, since when do you not believe the things I say to you? When have I lied?” He took a few more steps to you.

 “I don’t know,” it was a whisper. You were quickly being overcome with emotion.

 “Come on dragonfly, talk to me.” With five more steps he’d closed the gap between you, but he didn’t touch you. “Please talk to me.”

 “You’re making me feel like I’m crazy. I’m not crazy, Chris.”

 “I know you’re not,” he began before you cut him off.

 “You’re making me feel like it. Every time I tell you something or bring up something about her. You throw up this whole defense. Why?”

 “Why do you feel so threatened by her?”

 You wanted to throw something right at his head.

 “I don’t feel threatened by her or any woman. I know women like her; I’ve known them all my life. I’ve dropped any of them that came in my path. With you though—you don’t see what I see and the more I try to show you, the more you make me feel crazy.”

 “Uriah. I am not sleeping with her. I have never slept with her. I would never sleep with her. I am not that kind of man. I could never do something like that to you.”

 “Do you want to sleep with her?” Chris took a deep breath and slowly released it. you were actually afraid of this answer. Telling you he wasn’t, hasn’t and would never sleep with her doesn’t say a thing about him wanting to. It only meant his self-control was high enough to resist what he wants. It felt like forever passed as you waited for him to answer.

 “No.”

 “Why did you hesitate?”

 “Because with that answer, I knew you wouldn’t believe it. I’m not blind Uriah, she’s attractive. Have I noticed? Yes. Do I want her? No, and that includes having sex with her.” He took another breath and spoke again. “Do you remember when I had issues with you being around him?”

 He never referred to Christiano by name, it was always him. You nodded.

 “It was like this wasn’t it?”

 It was your turn to take a deep breath. Roles were now reversed. Chris hung his head and allowed the silence to stretch between you. No doubt he was remembering how hard that time was for the two of you. He accused you and questioned you every time Christiano made things difficult. His whole goal was to get you back and he didn’t care how he went about it. Christiano had no respect for the fact that you married someone else. To him, it was all about what he wanted, and how he remembered your relationship.

 “Wow. Full circle huh. Shit baby if you feel anything close to how I felt back then—I’m sorry. I didn’t—I wasn’t—I should have--.” The words escaped him, but you knew what he meant. He approached you and reached for your hand but hesitated when you didn’t make a move to meet him halfway.

 “You can’t--, look I know you feel justified in doing what you did but Riah, that wasn’t okay. You can’t just corner someone I work with because you think we’re having an affair. You can’t do something like that especially without coming to me first. I never did that to you with him because I know the industry. I know how easy it is to get a reputation and a label. You didn’t just compromise our relationship, and everything we’ve worked through, but you also compromised my career, our livelihood.”

 Though you were still steaming mad at him, that part of his argument was true. She could have run to TMZ or some other trashy blog instead of Chris. She could have done a lot of damage. You didn’t think that far, or you didn’t care. You wanted to throw it back at him but that wouldn’t resolve anything. You learned a long time ago in marriage being right meant nothing. Chris dug into his pocket to pull out his vibrating phone. As he peered down at it he shook his head.

 “Damn it, I gotta go.”

 You nodded. Chris stared at you for a few moments before he turned and walked out of the room to reappear seconds later.

 “There is something I have to tell you. Something--.” He was cut off by one of the event coordinators who appeared at his side.

 “Shit, I gotta go. I love you, Riah.”

 The way he said it felt different. It felt—strange. You didn’t have time to respond before he was gone leaving you there to wonder what he had to tell you.

 When you found Zora and Kizzy they were still in the closet combing through everything in Ana’s purse. Once you entered Zora quickly averted her eyes.

 “Anything?”

 Neither of them replied. Kizzy kept her eyes on the phone she held, and Zora continued rifling through the purse. They were being weird.

 “Hello, guys. Did you find anything?”

 Kizzy and Zora exchanged looks and just like that your stomach fell. They’d found something.

 “What did you find?” Again, they remained silent. Zora could tell you were getting annoyed, so she spun to you.

 “Okay promise you’ll be calm,” Zora breeched. Immediately you went into DEFCON mode.

 “What the fuck, Zo?” Kizzy held out the phone to you with a blank expression on her face.

 “Take it with a grain of salt, you don’t know the whole story.” You took the phone and looked through the messages section. You read through an exchange between Ana and Chris.

 MSG Ana: I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I didn’t plan that at all. It’s just that I’ve been going through a lot lately. Adjusting to the limelight has been really weird and I’ve lost people I thought were true. I’ve been really lonely feeling like I’m going through this beast alone. You were being so kind to me I guess I got carried away.

MSG Chris: I’m sorry you’re going through that and you feel so alone. We’ve all been there. I’m certain it’s the actor’s right of passage to lose people and experience bouts of loneliness. God knows I feel lonely a lot especially during filming and press touring. I understand. It’s no big deal.

MSG Ana: Really? If your wife ever found out wouldn’t she be furious?

MSG Chris: Initially maybe, yes. It wasn’t a planned thing. You know I have a wife who I love so there’s nothing to worry about there.

MSG Ana: I have to say something without making it weird. You’re an excellent kisser.

 Your eyes stopped at “kisser” and it felt like you’d sniffed something that was automatically affecting your brain. You knew “Knives Out” had no love scenes with them. You looked to Zora and Kizzy, but they remained silent, so you continued to read.

 MSG Chris: LOL. Thanks, I guess.

 You skimmed the following messages but found nothing incriminating just annoying little messages she’d sent to him trying to be cute. You scrolled and saw another exchange from just before you began therapy.

 MSG Ana: Do you wanna talk about it?

MSG Chris: No, I’ll be fine. Just marriage is hard.

MSG Ana: If I were married to you I wouldn’t make it hard. You’d be happy. does she even make you happy anymore?

MSG Chris: Of course, I love her.

MSG Ana: But it’s okay to move on if she’s not doing it for you anymore. There are plenty of women who would treasure you.

MSG Chris: Gotta go.

 The more you read the more you hated her. Another exchange caught your eye, this was from when they were filming.

 MSG Chris: I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to touch you like that. I have no idea how I grabbed there instead of your arms.

MSG Ana: LOL. It’s okay. I can’t say that it was a bad touch scenario. I should say thank you. it’s been a while since a man grabbed my breast. I was beginning to forget what that felt like.

MSG Chris: I’m so sorry.

MSG Ana: Don’t worry about it. It was an accident, it meant nothing.

 Clenching your jaw, you tried to swallow the vomit that wanted to raise up. Zora touched your arm in comfort but you brushed it off. You were ready to call an end to this “mission” but another message came in. One from her assistant, Cora.

 MSG Cora: Everything is all planned for your night with Chris. All that we’re waiting on now is just his confirmation. Also, I see the video of you in his room made it to tabloid. Damn you were not playing around when you said you were going to take everything that was hers. 

MSG Cora: Let me know if you need anything else.

 Kizzy and Zora looked at you and the three of you had the same expression and you were sure you thought the same thing.

 “This bitch!” 

~~~~~~~~~

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[honeyctzen]

domesticated - kd

genre: smut, petplay

warnings: kitten!play, dom!doyoung, oral (male recieving), unprotected sex, spanking 

words: 4.4k

The sky outside darkened a midnight blue as you sat quietly on the couch, watching shapes and colours contort on the television. Your mouth widened in a yawn as shuffling footsteps wandered over from the kitchen, they gently pattered until your boyfriend Doyoung appeared from behind a wall. His eyes darted around the room as he set a bowl of popcorn on the table, fingers curling around a piece before he lumped down beside you. His tall frame slumped on the sofa, arm nearest to you stretching around, giving you the room the snake around his torso. Cosying into Doyoung you felt his fingers bury into your waist, his other hand reaching over and grabbing the remote. You felt the rumble of a pondering sigh, Doyoung beginning to flick through the channels as he always did. He was indecisive, easily bored and on nights like this, where neither had work the next day or a reason to protest, you knew how it would end.

Even the night you met he was like this.

In college, you had found it difficult to bond with anyone. Parties were too loud, being alone in your dorm was too quiet, balancing the two was near impossible. Especially when you hadn’t had much experience with people or being away from home in the first place. In the end, you relied heavily on your roommate to take you out and show you the way of the world. And she tried her hardest, it’s just that not much of it interested you though you did try your best.

After another night sat in the quietest room of a frat party, you began to feel despondent to the entire college experience altogether. You flicked through the books in the bedroom you’d barricaded yourself in, sighing when a porno magazine fell from between two classic novels. You bent over to pick it up, skirt riding high although it didn’t seem to matter alone in the room. As your fingers grabbed the corner as to avoid any residue that may linger between pages, you heard the oak door behind you open wide. A panic washed over you, heat rising to your cheeks as you half expected to spin around and find a drunken couple wanting to consummate. Instead, as you turned, while holding the magazine behind your back cautiously, you saw a sober looking man stood in the doorframe.

The blush hanging over your cheeks only intensified. His stature was large, shoulders broad in his blue, baggy jumper. Eyes big and brown, dark hair falling into his eyes as his slender fingers came up to brush it away. You stood speechless as his bottom lip became hooked beneath his teeth, his eyebrows furrowing for a moment before he stepped into the room. Your chest felt thick with embarrassment. You kept the magazine pressed tightly to your back, stepping back and the man stepped forward.

‘Sorry, I thought this room was free.’ You said quietly.

‘Uh, no, no, it’s fine honestly, I just um, usually keep my bedroom off limits while there’s parties. I like it, clean, don’t want people you know, in my bed.’ The man whispered, and despite the loud music, you could hear his every low toned word perfectly.

‘Understandable. I’m really sorry, I just kinda wanted to get out the way of everyone,’ you chuckled nervously, ‘I don’t really like parties that much.’

‘Like I said, it’s fine.’ The man smiled wide, exposing a gummy grin that only made you blush further. ‘I’m Doyoung by the way.’ He finished, reaching his hand out to shake yours.

Instinctively, you lurched forward. The magazine slipping out of your grip for just a moment, but long enough for it to drop to the ground. It splayed open on the carpet, thudding wide to the centre fold. Your chest tightened; stomach burned. You couldn’t bare to look back at what Doyoung was seeing.

‘I’m so sorry.’ You apologized quickly.

‘Where was that?’

‘Um, on the bookshelf, between Dracula and Wuthering Heights. It kinda just fell out, I, um, wanted to read.’ You laughed at how ridiculous you sounded.

‘Oh, right.’ Doyoung managed somehow to look more worried than you, his fingers scratching at his head. As his arm raised up, so did his jumper, revealing the soft toned torso beneath. You felt yourself tighten.

‘Look, I’m sorry, I should let you get to bed or,’ you mumbled as quickly as you could, wishing to vanish from the building altogether. You spun on your heels once again, bending down to pick up the magazine and return it to its owner. However, when you did, you actually saw what was sprawled across the pages.

A woman was sat on a red, leather sofa in a pristine lingerie, her privates covered though the sheerness left nothing to the imagination. Her arms were twisted behind her back, threaded together perfectly with thick, crimson rope. Her legs were wide open on the sofa, still covered in the same beautiful rope but this time only for aesthetic purposes. The expression on her face was that of pleasure, eyes closed, mouth wide kind of pleasure. Her makeup and hair was immaculate, untouched. It was a beautiful image, the kind that could have gotten away with being in an art gallery.

Confusion waved over you. The expectation of seeing unrealistic, graphic depictions of two women or a woman and a man had been dashed. There was only a soft, artistic image that left you with no words, only a deep yearning that maybe one day, you could be that woman. Clearly desired, clearly within someone’s control but beautiful and immaculate all the same.

Doyoung let out a withering sigh as you lifted the magazine and turned to face him. He stepped closer, fighting back the urge to rip the magazine from your grasp and throw it underneath his bed. Doyoung waited for you to wrinkle your face in disgust, to snicker at the image but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, you began to flick through the images. Turning your head to see all the sideward pages, tracing your fingers over the threads of rope that where consistent throughout the entire magazine. You pondered at it as though it were an art magazine, you seemed to appreciate it as one. Doyoung was gobsmacked.

After a few moments, you closed the magazine, handing it over to Doyoung. He gently took it from you, his fingers dancing over yours for a moment before the heat of his digits disappeared.

‘It’s beautiful.’ You said without thinking.

‘What?’

‘Um, it’s beautiful.’ You repeated.

‘Yeah, yeah, it is.’ Doyoung concurred nervously, staring at your features as they twisted in thought.

‘Do people actually do that? Or is it just for the pictures?’

‘You mean the, the rope?’ Doyoung asked politely as you merely nodding back shyly, your lip between your teeth.

‘I think I’d like to try it.’ You admitted, looking up at Doyoung to find his eyebrows scrunched in disbelief. ‘With you, please.’ You finished, not quite understanding what you’d asked for, but knowing in your gut that it felt right.

Nearly two years later and you were still trying out so many different, new things with Doyoung. When you met, you were both shy. Wrapped up in desires both of you thought no one but you had, but meeting each other, it gave you both the outlet you desperately needed. You often looked for things to try, often on nights like this when you both had time to kill. Whether it was between the pages of magazines or online, you found that both you and Doyoung had an endless stream of erotic things you wanted to try.

A ritual you’d created early into your relationship was looking at the trending page of a porn site, rooting around for something you hadn’t already done a thousand times and trying it. No pre-judgements, no reservations, just trying something to see the outcome. There were times when you or Doyoung decided the thing was not for you but often enough, both of you found that whatever you did, as long as it was with each other, it was perfect. This ritual however meant that things often got a little taboo which didn’t bother either of you but there was a certain stigma to some things and sometimes that did give you reservations. Out of an ingrained habit that was built into all people, when you saw something strange, it took a lot to try it. But with Doyoung, you never felt uncomfortable.

Doyoung sighed from beside you signally that he could find nothing to watch and so, the ritual begun.

You peered up at him, eyes big and doe. Doyoung waited for a moment before looking down and smiling warmly. ‘You wanna choose something tonight?’

Your mouth lifted to smile back at him, nodding happily, hands almost snatching the remote from your boyfriend. He chuckled. Usually you both picked, though really, you’d go along with whatever Doyoung wanted. Letting you choose without protesting was a special occasion and it made you light up like nothing else. You opened up the website on the television, still shy about looking at such lewd things in front of someone else on a large scale. The screen became sodden with erotic video links and dirty advertisements, all clearly made by men who knew nothing about women. You tutted to yourself, flicking down through the pages and pages until something towards the bottom left caught your eye.

‘Naughty kitten punished.’

With eyebrows knotted you turned to Doyoung. ‘Is this really a thing? Dressing up like a cat, I mean, I know I’ve done it for Halloween but for, fucking?’

‘Of course, it is. If you can think of it, there’s probably porn made of it.’ He retorted with a smirk wiped across his lips.

‘I don’t like that sentiment.’

‘So, that’s a no?’ Doyoung peered, careening his head to stare his umber orbs into yours. His grip around your side tightened a little, allowing you to feel the warmth emanating from beneath his black t-shirt. From habit, you closed your eyes, enjoying the small circles he drew into your hip.

‘Well?’

‘I, I mean, it’s weird, right? Dressing up like an animal?’ You said sceptically.

‘Obviously, but it’s not out of the league of what we’ve done before.’ Doyoung added.

‘I guess.’

‘It’s your call, princess.’

‘Uh, I mean, I have the costume… maybe it’d be nice to get some use out of it?’ You felt yourself defending your ideas, ideas that you knew deep down Doyoung would never judge. And yet, the shame of desire was so engrained in you, that you could not help it.

‘Let’s go get you dressed then.’ Doyoung smiled, standing from the couch, his stature above you like a skyscraper. You fought back the urge to reach out for his jean button right then and instead smiled to yourself with sparks alight in your mind.

‘Maybe I should go alone, if you come, we’ll never get back out the bedroom.’ You taunted standing up beside Doyoung. His smile lowered as yours grew ten-fold. You found your hands resting on Doyoung’s wide shoulders, pushing him back slightly until he sat back against the sofa. His legs widened, back slumping, as though inviting you to sit atop him, instead, you began walking to the bedroom, a chuckle leaving your mouth.

After sulking into the bedroom, you shared with your boyfriend, you began the hunt for the outfit you’d worn once and long forgotten. While it was true that Doyoung accompanying you would’ve lead to something before you’d be able to grasp the costume, you also needed to root through your messy wardrobe for it. Which was, undoubtedly, a mood killer. Through grumbles and profanities, your hands dived through piles of clothes, each pile loosely organised by occasion. Dating Doyoung meant that the fancy dress pile was rather large and took some time to sift through. Until, almost at the bottom of the pile, two clip on ears poked out. As you grasped them, the soft fur tickled your palm, their deep brown nearly matching Doyoung’s eyes. Beneath the ears was a pink, leather collar that Doyoung had gifted you separate from the costume and to match, you pulled a set of pink, lacy lingerie from another messy pile.

You tugged down your sweatpants and removed the hoodie you’d stolen from Doyoung earlier in the day and pulled the pink lace over your head. The soft material felt like warm honey on your skin, and perfectly covered your body enough that you felt like the woman in that magazine. After slithering the undies up your bare legs, you grappled the ears once more. With fur between your fingers, you attached them high on your head, staring in the mirror at how sweet the clips looked. You smiled strangely excited for what you had been a little weirded out at first.

Staring down at your collar, a thought came to you, bringing warmth to your loin. You wandered over to a set of draws by the bed, heaved open the bottom section and pulled out a chain leash, the metal clasps jingling as you did so. Your smile grew as you flattened your hair and prepared yourself.

Timidly, you tiptoed back into the living room, head low as you approached where Doyoung still sat. With open palms, you knelt before your boyfriend, raising the items that sat atop your hands. After a few moments of silence, you peered up gently, looking over his face for any kind of emotion.

‘Look down.’ He muttered sullenly.

You followed his order immediately, keeping your palms up but eyes toward the hardwood floor. After another moment, the weight of the chain and collar disappeared and Doyoung’s feet came into your view and moved behind you. Though a cautious wave of anxiety rolled through your stomach, you still remained staring at the floor in silence. A sigh passed through your lips as cold fingers brushed your hair aside and cool leather pressed against your throat. Doyoung’s cold digits appeared again as he buckled up the collar and latched on the chain leash to hold you in place.

His hand remained low of the chain, gripping it so tight that it choked you slightly but still, you stared at the ground, motionless. A low snicker came from behind you, making your stomach swirl and tighten as moisture moved toward your heat. It was torture not to turn and look at him but following his orders was more important. You waited for what felt like forever until a palm mellowed over the top of your head, soothing over your hair, and following over the ears. Doyoung’s frame moved around you, allowing for you to see his lower legs once more and just knowing he was there, that he was the one touching you made it harder not to look up.

‘Look up at me baby.’ Doyoung finally said.

Your head snapped up immediately, big eyes staring desperately toward Doyoung and the grin smeared across his face. The confidence clearing instilled in him was terrifying and so, so arousing. You mewled, Doyoung raising his eyebrows as he smoothed over your head once more. From instinct you pushed your head up into his palm, nuzzling close to feel warmth from him.

‘My good kitten.’

A warmth filled your lower region, burning with every moment Doyoung touched you in any way. Until suddenly, a large heave bevelled through your body, the chain rattling as you were forced to push into Doyoung’s legs. Your hands leant atop his feet, wide eyes begging him to do something, anything. Doyoung merely grinned, tugging on the chain once more as he sat back on the couch and pulled you between his legs. Your features faced his crotch, mouth only a few inches from his covered length that tented his tight jeans. Just seeing you knelt before him, perky ears and collar and pink lace made him unimaginably hard and Doyoung struggled to compose himself. One more tug on your leash and your chin came to sit above his thigh. Doyoung released the chain, sitting it beside himself as he moved his fingers to his jeans.

You felt yourself smile, knowing what was to come. Pushing your face against his thigh, you purred, nose nuzzling into his clothed muscles. Doyoung let out a splintered moan, coaxing you to continue. As you did, you heard the undoing of a zip and rustling of thick material. The silence that settled in after is what made you look up, your eyes widening as you saw Doyoung holding his member tightly, slowly moving his hand up and down. He kept his darkened gaze locked upon you. Moving his other hand, Doyoung cupped your cheeks, soothing his thumb over the blush that painted your skin. His fingers moved slowly until he danced them to the back of your neck, his grip tightening and forcing your face forward. He pulled violently until you were face to face with his length.

‘Go on, kitten.’ Doyoung whispered.

He pushed his length toward you slightly, allowing your lips to engulf the tip and sink down the shaft. Doyoung let his head fall back against the sofa pillow and a low growl fall from his mouth. His noises only propelled you to continue, head bobbing up and down quickly as his member began to hit the back of your throat. It burnt, a kind of burning that travelled all the way down to your core, that was beginning to drip with desire. You lifted your hands and placed them atop Doyoung’s thighs for stability. Doyoung gripped your hair, twisting it into a makeshift ponytail and using it to control your pace. The tightness spread all over your body and ached in your loin. A need for Doyoung to be buried deep within you exploded.

The speed became relentless as you peered upward, staring at Doyoung’s scrunched up features; small, rhythmic groans pouring from his lips. You longed to kiss him, to nuzzle your fuzzy ears into the crook of his neck. You wished to be his pet forever.

‘Baby, stop, stop.’ Doyoung repeated frantically, pulling your mouth off his length by your hair. You understood why he stopped, for he wanted to be within you just as much as you wanted him inside you, but the loss of contact hurt, nonetheless. Spit dribbled from your lips, lining from Doyoung’s member to your mouth. He groaned low once more as you mewled, staring up at him with pleading eyes.

Watching from the ground, Doyoung pushed his hard member back in his jeans, sat up straight and patted his lap. You nearly leap up, pouncing onto Doyoung like the kitten you were pretending to be. With legs either side of him and arms slung over his shoulders, you waited. His expression twisted into a smirk, a devilish thought swirling around his mind.

‘Lie down on me, ass up.’ He muttered sternly. You watched his eyes for a further moment before Doyoung raised his eyebrows and nodded downward at his lap. You lifted yourself slightly and flipped over, placing your waist in Doyoung’s lap. Your face burrowed into the couch, feet kicking the edge of the seat and heat pressing directly onto Doyoung’s still stiff length. After a second, you felt as your boyfriend pulled your lace underwear down your thighs, cold fingers dragging over your skin. He lingered them back up to your ass, spreading his palm wide over the flesh. Doyoung kept it there for a moment, still and gentle, your stomach settling before suddenly, his touch disappeared and reappeared with a sharp, jolting sting.

A yelp came spurting out your lips, a chuckling emanating from Doyoung as again, his touch left and smacked back down. You mewled helplessly, another slap.

‘Count for me, okay kitten, five more.’ He said softly, swaying his hand over your red, hot skin before once more, lifting it and slapping it back down. A gasp escaped your throat.

‘One.’

Doyoung chuckled again, forcing down a particularly devilish spank.

‘Two.’

Your ass burnt painfully, the side that Doyoung had been slapping beginning to feel bruised and swollen. It was beautiful, and as another hit pummelled down upon you, a wave of pleasure rippled through you.

‘Three.’

Another.

‘Four.’

Doyoung soothed over your skin one more time as he lifted his hand and brought it down mercilessly. You yelped once more, feeling the other side burn just as the first. A small tear spat from your eye, trickling down your cheek and dripping onto the couch below.

‘Five.’ You croaked.

You lay down for a moment, air aggressively attacking your bruised ass as Doyoung removed his hand and placed into on the back of your thigh. He gently stroked the skin, giving you a few moments to catch your breath and recuperate.

Doyoung held onto your upper arm, pulling you up to kneel beside him. A finger coming up to swipe away a stray tear.

‘Do you wanna stop? We can?’ He enquired softly; eyes tender as his hand careened your jaw.

‘Fuck no.’ You said, leaping over once more to sit back in Doyoung’s lap, legs either side of his and lips reaching forward to kiss the man beneath you. With mouths collided, you wrangled your arms around Doyoung’s shoulders, his tongue darting between your lips and exploring your mouth. Instinctively, you began playing with the hair on the back of his neck, pulling slightly so Doyoung tilted his head back. You took advantage of the position, dragging your lips down to kiss and nibble at his slender neck. Doyoung groaned, his hands wandering to the underwear that still sat at your thighs, pulling them lower until they could no longer move. You felt the material dig into your flesh, stuck in their current position. While you wanted your bare heat to sit against Doyoung, you dreaded the idea of moving. He tugged again, helpless.

‘Rip them, rip them please, please.’ You begged, merely wanting to feel him beneath you, desperate for any pressure or friction against your heat.

‘Sure?’

‘Do it.’

Doyoung wrapped his fingers around one side of the fragile, lacy material and heaved it apart. The sound of ripping filled the room as Doyoung groaned, moving the material away as finally, he had access to your core. You felt the bulge in his jeans harden once more, pressed tight to the wetness that was pooling from within you. It burnt to be so close but separated by the already unzipped jeans. Doyoung held your hips, pushing you down to tease. A whimper fell from your lips.

‘Aw, is my kitten desperate? What does she want?’

‘You, please, I want you.’ You mumbled, unable to speak properly from sheer desperation.

‘Want me? To do what?’

‘I want you to fuck me! Please, fuck me!’ You almost screamed helplessly, Doyoung merely grinning, proud he had made you so desperate.

With his hands on your hips, Doyoung pushed you backwards further down his thighs. Giving him enough room to pull his jeans below his waist, allowing his hard member to spring gently from the material. It clung, pressed between his groin and your heat, that had, by now, created a wet patch on Doyoung’s trousers. You pushed upward, kneeling as you moved back up the thighs below you. Doyoung held your waist with one hand and with the other, moved his member to the entrance of your core. He was moving slow, but you wanted him, wanted him buried within you. And so, you pushed downward, feeling as you sunk onto Doyoung and he disappeared within you.

Doyoung let out a moan as you whimpered. The feeling of him inside you, putting pressure against you was intoxicating, so intoxicating that you could not move for a moment. As you began moving, slowly up and down Doyoung’s length, every inch of him burnt against every inch of you. The man below held desperately onto your hips, pulling you up and down to take complete control of the pace. The rhythmic tempo made a coil of pleasure begin to spin in your stomach, the grip upon you tight and almost painful. Another whimper fell from your lips as Doyoung let his head tilt back in pleasure. You shook, placing your hands upon his shoulders for stability, body nearly slumping against him.

His fingers began to trail up your body, tracing the pink, sheer lace that covered your breasts, swirling past and up your throat. His journey stopped, fingers halting and spreading up against your skin as he grappled the chain that attached to the collar. You let a loud moan explode into the atmosphere as you lifted yourself up and down Doyoung’s member, the pleasure in your loin beginning to burn. Low growls fell from Doyoung’s mouth, filling your ears like music as his grip upon you, both on your waist and collar, tightened. Air tightly passed through your windpipe, head spinning as you arched yourself quicker upon Doyoung. He growled loudly, his face scrunching up in pleasure as you felt him release inside of you, the warm liquid applying even more pressure inside your heat. The hot, wet feeling made you complete, and you felt yourself tighten and spasm on his member.

A last, prolonged mewl fell from your lips as you ceased your movements, still sat upon Doyoung’s member. His tempered sighs filled the room, grip on your collar loosening and hand falling back to your waist. You fell into Doyoung. Chests pressed together as sweat mixed like a cocktail of pleasure and sleepiness. Doyoung wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close, your cheek pressed flush against the crook of his neck. While holding you, Doyoung lifted slightly, giving him enough room to remove himself from your heat. A stifled moan fell from both of you, heat swelling around the room. You sighed, sleepy upon your equally tired boyfriend.

‘That was nice.’ You whimpered in a hushed tone.

‘It was, wasn’t it?’ Doyoung agreed, your head tilting upward to stare into his big, doe eyes. ‘C’mon kitten, let’s go and get you cleaned up and in bed.’ He soothed, fingers weaving through your hair as you purred once more against his chest. Nuzzling into him as your ears nudged his chin.

[stusbunker]

What Lingers Within: Five

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Mini Series

Featuring: Past Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Written for @thisismysecrethappyplace​

Amazing help & beta’ing from @itmighthavebeenintentional​

Lovely aesthetic from @thoughtslikeaminefield​

Word Count: 1972

A/N:There are some quick flashbacks and talk of rotting bodies, but nothing out of the normal of the show for warnings. Angst. Thanks for reading! xoxo Stu

Series Masterlist

^*^*^*^*^

    In a strictly “looking for a silver lining type way,” Sam was impressed with how Dean held in the road rage as they reached the city limits. He felt it too, the worry, the restlessness, the need to do something, anything. Dean drove, Sam thought; it was all they could do in the moment, however unsubstantial. Luckily, the natural progression of intense emotion defused overtime leaving logic and hunters’ patience on their side.

   They spotted Michelle in her parked truck, right where she’d told them to meet her. Dean had to circle back twice before they found a spot big enough for the impala. They made do with only their handguns hidden on their backs, clocking their bustling surroundings on the way to the old pick up. Michelle dodged traffic and met them on the sidewalk, her shock dulled with exhaustion. Sam tried his best to reassure her before walking her back to wait in their car. 

    Ten yards before Sam reached his brother, Dean’s phone rang.

^*^*^

    The first week had been a blur, being introduced to everyone repeatedly and suffering through hours of online training in your tiny bland cubicle. Your new job, essentially, was double checking other people’s work. “Quality Assurance Specialist’’ had been thrown around, but your title didn’t matter; it was entry level work.

    You went home each day to your airy, quiet apartment alone. Hours spent reminding yourself that you had made the right choice moving and starting over. But there were moments when it felt like you were stuck, by moving you had acted on a hidden impulse to search for something. Something missing from your life.

     Your nights were spent scrolling decorating boards cuddled on the couch in an old flannel that had started to wear in patches from burying your face in the soft fabric, searching for a scent that had long been washed away.

    Mornings were easier, especially with a coffee shop just around the corner. Slowly you had built a routine, growing more comfortable with your surroundings and your coworkers. 

     Then came the afternoon Katelyn called you into your office, the day this all began when somehow you had put a chopping block over your own head and inadvertently, Chase’s.

      You had been doing your job, she couldn’t fire you over the discrepancies you had bubbled up. But, whatever scheme she had been working was deemed more important than two people’s lives. The memory burned into the back of your mind as you listened to the call ring over the line.

     “Agent Berkman.”

      “Dean?” You croaked, his voice broke through your fighting mentality, bringing an instant vulnerability.

      “Thank God! Where are you?”

       “I don’t know! Katelyn got out on bail—the cops know you guys aren’t FBI!” Your mind jumped back, warning Dean before you could focus. His fake business card crumpled in your clenched fist.

      “Is she there now? Are you someplace safe?” Dean coached.

      “Um, I think I’m in a basement, it’s all cement and smells. This is Katelyn’s phone, I had to—,” you started to sputter.

      “Hey! Listen to me! Is there a door? Can you get out?” Dean pressed.

       You exhaled slowly. “I think so? I don’t know who dragged me here. I didn’t see them clearly before they knocked me out. I got fucking chlorofomed! I didn’t think people really did that.”

       Dean grumbled, and you realized he must have been catching Sam up. 

      “Well, generally they don’t. I’m guessin’ Katelyn and her partner aren’t exactly experienced kidnappers.”

      “That’s oddly reassuring.”

      “You movin’ yet?”

      “Oh, right. Don’t hang up.” Drawn out of your daze, your eyes focused onto corroded metal, your only exit.

       “Honey, I wouldn’t dare,” Dean huffed out a chuckle. It made your cheeks burn as you wiped away the tears. You took another deep breath for courage and cranked open the heavy, old door.

*^*^*^

    Her voice rang through the pre-dawn air, she was already giggling his name as he nuzzled against the back of her neck.

    Dean was already hard, but the way her laughter broke off had him aching. Noises in any other context would be annoying were melodic, craved, sought out there. She was soft against his chest as he wedged a knee between her thighs. He rocked into the inviting cushion of her ass as they rolled, sheets twisting into an inescapable cocoon.

    He took his time, sprinkling kisses over every inch of her back as they settled into place. With nowhere to go and no one that needed them, they indulged in each other. It had been a hard fought couple of months finding a new normal without Sam, but they’d done it together. This was just the dollop of whipped cream on their slice of pie. A perfectly lazy morning lay, something they’d done dozens of times before and Dean couldn’t imagine them ever stopping.

    She whined with exhaustion and moaned with pleasure, a soundtrack he never knew he needed. He fell back asleep sometime after nine, and she lingered beneath him, playing with the hair at the scruff of his neck as he drooled in the crease below her bare breasts. Sticky and sloppy and stupidly content.

    They went for brunch or ate in or any number of other silly weekend things regular couples did. It didn’t matter. 

      What mattered was the feelings never left Dean’s memories. They were folded in among the layers of her scent and the flash of her smile, the warmth of her voice and the shape of her body against his. Things time had faded but could never fully erase. 

^*^*^

    Dean and Sam beelined for the alleyway, retracing her steps until they ran into the trail they had followed to the vampire den less than a week prior. Dean switched his phone to his other hand as he held open the hatch for Sam to ease into the service tunnel. He prayed he wouldn’t lose service as he continued to talk her out of one room and into the labyrinth. 

    “Alright, are you being followed? Check again. Don’t stop watching your back, you hear me?” Dean huffed, his shoulder pinching his phone against his ear as he climbed down after Sam, leaving civilization behind.

    “I am!” She was whispering all the sudden, which only made him more worried.

    “Do you see anything? Any emergency lights or signs, pipes maybe?” Dean offered, crouching as he kept up with Sam’s hurried pace.

    “Oh god,” she broke off.

    “What is it?” Dean barked.

    “I figured out what the smell is,” she coughed.

    “Let me guess, bodies?” Dean jutted his chin to Sam.

    “Who says that as your first guess?” She muttered the rhetorical question. “Wait, did you do this?”

    “Maybe. Listen, whoever dragged you down there knew the vamps had been cleared out. Keep sharp.” Dean pushed against Sam’s back, speeding up as much as they could in the cramped space.

    “I’m not going in there, I just spotted them through the hole in the wall.” She was adamant; Dean knew exactly the face she was making with that tone in her voice, and he couldn’t help but crack a smile.

    “Alright, we’ll be there as soon as we can. Just, uh, keep talking,” Dean prompted.

    “So, uh, is it weird that I’m hoping to see Michaelangelo or Donatello down here? Because I am getting some weird nostalgia vibes right now,” she wondered aloud, earning a solid guffaw from Dean, which got him a questioning grimace from Sam.

    “If you see a man-sized rat, I wouldn’t stop and ask for any Kung Fu tips,” Dean mock warned.

    “Master Splinter is more than a mere rat, dude,” she tisked.

    “You see the new ones?” Dean kept her talking.

    “With pretty boy Casey Jones? Or the cartoons?” 

    “I’ll take that as a yes. Look, they could have been worse—,” Dean was cut off.

    “Shit! Roy’s calling! What the fuck do I do?” She started to panic.

    “It’s call waiting, just let it ring through, you’re fine. It’s going to be okay,” Dean tried to soothe her with only bullshit and a sliver of hope.

    “What if it was him that drugged me, Dean? What if he’s looking for Katelyn and comes looking for me?” She continued to spiral and Dean felt like they were moving backwards. It hadn’t taken them this long to find the vamps the first time, had it?

    Just when he was going to butt in and calm her down, the line went dead.

^*^*^

    If Katelyn’s phone had grown hands and punched you in the face, you would have been less surprised; Roy’s face, in an altogether uncomfortable smirk, stared back at you from the blue tinged call screen. Somehow he had managed to interrupt your call to Dean.

    There was no hiding that you weren’t Katelyn. You had no reason to answer her phone before, why would you now?

    Too bad logic didn’t ease your worry.

    You pushed End Call and shoved the phone in your back pocket. Suddenly feeling very exposed, you ducked into the hole with the decapitated vampires and hugged your knees. Any moment you could be discovered. You kept yourself quiet by reminding yourself that there was hope that Dean or Sam would find you before Roy could.

    You buried your face in the grime and sweat on your clothes, trying to block out the stench of decay. You felt eight-years-old again, hiding in your grandmother’s closet waiting for the older cousins to find you. You remembered they had given up and started playing baseball without you. No one had come to find you until it was time to leave. Your dad said you had won Hide & Seek, but you knew what he wasn’t saying: you had been forgotten because you were unnecessary. A bother.

    It wasn’t the last time you had been left behind. 

Just when you decided to try and continue escaping, heavy footfalls echoed closer. You trembled in place, face hidden in your forearms while your eyes slammed closed in fear and childlike instinct.

    “Where is she?!” Dean’s voice broke through the eerie quiet. “She said she was out here.”

    “Here! I’m, I– I didn’t know where to go?” You crawled onto your knees and then climbed out through the gap in the wall.

    You fell into Sam’s side, one pair of warm hands caught your waist and another righted your shoulders. Before your eyes could readjust to the light, you found yourself drowning in freckles and lashes.

    “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” Dean searched your cheeks and neck, wrists and feet for any sign of injury. His touch was hurried, but careful, like you could crumble at any moment.

    “I’m fine, just a little woozy.” You mumbled, suddenly self-conscious of being the center of attention. “We really need to get going.”

    “Did you see Roy?” Sam asked, gun out and eyes darting around.

    “No, but he’s bound to track Katelyn’s phone eventually.” You held up the phone. Hastily, you wiped it off with your shirt best you could before dropping it to the mildewed floor and crushing it beneath your shoe.

    “Why’d you do that? Why not just leave it for a false trail?” Sam cocked his head.

    You shrugged. “I was hoping it would delay the inevitable. Katelyn’s dead. Or at least I think she is. I killed her.”

    “You what?!” Dean and Sam gaped in unison.

    “Look, can we keep moving? I need you guys, uh, to hold off on the questions, because I am not really sure how I feel about it yet.” You hoped your desperation was coming off as endearing, because you still needed their help. Sam was obviously befuddled, but Dean’s expression looked more like pride. 

You pressed your luck. “Be my getaway driver?”

    “I’m all yours,” Dean smirked and clicked his tongue, ushering you to follow Sam’s lead.

^*^*^

Series tags: @tiggytaylor​  @vicmc624​ @kalesrebellion​

General SPN tags: @flamencodiva​ @dolphincliffs​  @dontshootmespence​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​  @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @foxyjwls007​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @defenderrosetyler​ @ericaprice2008​ @princessofthefandomrealm​ @wingedcatninja​

^*^*^

Read On: Chapter Six

[captainkippen]

RECKLESS • A PUNK! TYRUS AU

Summary: 

RATED TEEN for smoking and swearing. 

TJ never expected to fall in love with a guy who hung out in the library for fun. Cyrus never expected to kiss a guy in the middle of a mosh pit. Once in a while, life surprises everybody. 

Chapter One: Respect The Tub

"Shut up. I'm having a mid-life crisis."

"You're twenty-one."

"Fine, an almost-quarter-life crisis or something, whatever."

"You know, I've seen you overreact before, but this time really takes the cake. Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Pfft. It's a great idea. The best idea I've ever had."

"You literally just said yourself that you're having a crisis."

TJ let out a long suffering sigh and glared at Marty. Andi snickered from where she was perched on the edge of the tub behind him. She had two gloved hands covered in bright red sludge buried deep in TJ's hair.

"Don't worry, Marts," she said. "I used to help Bex do her hair all the time when she got bored. Well… one time. If it goes wrong, we can just cut it off. Hair grows back usually."

"Usually?!" TJ spluttered, attempting to turn and face her only to be held in place by her firm grip.

Marty snorted. "Still sure about this?"

"Shut up, Marty. Jeez. You're worse than my mom."

"Hey, your shut your mouth about your mom. That woman is a saint. How she put up with your annoying all these years without committing murder, I’ll never know."

That earned him the bird and he snorted again, blowing smoke into T.J's face. The bathroom of their crappy apartment didn't have a smoke detector, which was probably the only reason Marty was even sat in the room with them. 

"Gross," Andi said with an appreciative smile. She might have stolen the cigarette for herself had her hands not been busy. TJ wrinkled his nose at the two of them. He wouldn't say anything, it hadn't worked the first thousand times and it wouldn't work now, but he had learned that if he made enough disgusted faces Marty would eventually put the cigarettes away.

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes at TJ's face and stubbed it out in the sink. "I'm meant to be quitting anyway. I promised Buffy."

"You made that promise like three months ago."

"Well I gotta have at least one flaw, otherwise it wouldn't be fair to you mere mortals, would it now?" Marty grinned and stood up, stretching his arms up until his back gave a satisfying click. 

"Careful bro," TJ said. "If your head gets any bigger you won't be able to get out of the door."

It was Marty's turn to cheerfully flip him off. As he wandered out of the bathroom he called over his shoulder asking if they wanted any snacks, even though TJ was pretty sure he knew they only had ketchup and coffee left in the kitchen.

"So, this mid-life crisis of yours," Andi said, slipping some more dye on to TJ's head. It slid against his scalp cold and unpleasant, dripping down his neck in a wet mess. "You think Epic Death Red is gonna fix it?"

He considered this for a moment. The brand name was splashed bright and obvious on the bottle, and it glared at him from the sink. It had made them laugh at the time, but now it was in his hair it felt a little daunting. "Nah, probably not. But it'll make me feel better about it, feels productive."

"Turning in your assignments would probably feel more productive."

"Hey, I thought we banned school talk from the tub. The tub rules are sacred. Respect the tub."

"I'm just saying-"

"Did you finish your figure drawing assignment yet?"

"...touché."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. After a few minutes, Marty loped back in holding a paper plate with an unwrapped Twinkie carefully cut into three pieces on it. Andi let him shove a piece unceremoniously into her mouth without a word.

It had become a sort of tradition. Well... not a tradition. TJ didn't know what you would call it. A habit maybe? Anyways, it had become usual for the three of them to hang out in the bathroom. Sometimes they'd be joined by friends and roommates. Two or three of them cramped in the tub, maybe splitting a bottle of cheap wine between them all, with someone else balanced on the toilet seat and another sprawled across the floor. But today, everyone else was out at work or class or living their life in some tub-free environment.

It was only TJ and Marty that lived in the apartment of the three of them. They had two other roommates, Walker and Jonah, who were pretty decent guys. Walker was an art major like Andi and Jonah had awesome taste in music. Sometimes he and TJ would walk to campus together, they were both based in the music department, but other than that and a shared interest in sports and skateboards they didn't really have anything in common. Buffy, Marty's girlfriend and (by apparent coincidence) Andi's childhood best friend with whom she was now reconnecting, would sometimes swing by to join them too. However, her disgust at  just how useless four boys could be at keeping their apartment in order mostly kept her at bay. Old take-out containers were not part of her ‘aesthetic’ or whatever. TJ was never sure if he was glad about that or not, the two of them spent most of the time squabbling, but she did make Marty happy and it was hard not to be cheerful when Marty was.

"So I had this dream right," TJ said. 

"Oh God."

"No, it's good right. Because it made me, like, realise I should be doing something."

Andi and Marty exchanged amused looks. They were used to it, TJ's various whims and impulses and Important Decisions About The Future That Usually Turned Out To Be Not So Important. They found it funny. TJ might be offended if it weren't for the fact he had listened to them spout of conspiracy theories more times than he could count.

"Go on," Andi prompted. 

"Okay, so like... I'm standing on this cliff, right? Like on the very very edge of it. And I'm staring out to sea all dramatic and shit, and then suddenly it gives way underneath me, right? And I'm falling and falling, and I look down and there's just like... nothing there."

Another pause. "...and that's it?"

"That's it. That's the dream."

"Okay, lay it out for me. How did you go from falling off a cliff to dyeing your hair red? Give me the logic. I wanna follow your train of thought here."

He takes a deep breath, trying to shake away the lightheadedness the mingling scents of cigarettes and ammonia is bringing on, then twists around to face her.

"When you're falling to your death you're supposed to reminisce about, like, all the good shit you did in your life before you fall to your death right? And for me it was a total blank. Like nothing. Like I haven't lived."

Marty groaned. "Not this again."

"What?"

"You have this same crisis like every other month. Last time you wanted to 'live your life' we got arrested for trespassing on private property."

"Well, if you had run faster-"

"Fuck you! I run faster than you, asshole. It's not my fault there were literal guard dogs-"

"Guys!" Andi interrupted before they could really get going. They both muttered half hearted apologies with a huff. Marty sighed and leaned back, stretching his legs up to rest on the edge of the bath.

"The point is," TJ resumed, knocking Marty’s foot away from his face. "The point is that I've done, like, zero important things in my life. And we're adults now, y'know? I can't just bum around doing nothing forever. I wanna do something that matters."

Andi rolled her eyes. "'Adult' is a strong word for a guy who just this week learned what fabric softener is."

"I never claimed to be Martha Stewart."

Marty laughed. "You're criminal enough to be."

"Okay but," Andi said, before another bickering match could spark up. "The real point is... we're only in our twenties. Pretty sure we're not meant to have everything figured out yet, right? I mean, we haven't even graduated yet."

TJ and Marty both hissed.

"The G word is also banned, remember?"

Andi made a face, but didn't press the point. She hated thinking about the future just as much as the guys did. None of them knew what they wanted to do. They spent all their time in sleazy bars moshing to terrible local bands, getting drunk in a moulding tub and watching Andi paint in the student studios. TJ couldn't imagine any of them with nine-to-five jobs, commuting or working for some big evil corporation. He said as much.

"It's two thousand and five," Marty complained in response. "We should totally have robots to do all the boring jobs by now."

TJ agreed. How could humanity not yet be at the point where they had hover boards and flying cars? They had the internet for crying out loud. The possibilities were endless.

"So what're you gonna do?" Andi asked. “How are you, TJ Kippen, going to change the world?

TJ pondered this for a moment. 

"I'm gonna start a band."

*

Sometimes Cyrus seriously hated his friends.

Not in an actual 'I wish I didn't know you' way but in an 'oh man, you suck so hard right now' kind of way. Tonight was one of those times. He would never say that to them, of course, he had no desire to hurt anybody’s feelings, but a little mental cursing never hurt anyone.

He shivered and pulled his jacket tighter around himself. Rain smattered down on the concrete around him. Water seeped through the canvas of his sneakers, soaking his socks and mood both at once. He was cold, wet and fed up. Buffy had asked him to meet her here, outside some dingy rock club filled with scary kids wearing studs and too much makeup, but she was nowhere to be found. She had answered her phone when he called, but the line mostly crackled and all he got was a muffled "-inside" from here.

Whatever. It was fine. It was totally cool that he was stuck out here being eyed by suspicious punks in leather jackets and scary scene kids with scary scene hair. It was great. He could totally cope with the fact that the bouncer wouldn't let him in because he forgot his I.D. and apparently he looked like he was twelve years old. Totally, totally fine. Really, it couldn’t get any worse.

It was as if the universe had heard this very thought and decided to have the last laugh. A large truck roared down the street, sending a fresh wave of freezing water over his legs and shoes. 

Screw this. He was going home.

He hadn't even wanted to come out in the first place. He should be back in his nice cosy dorm room, preferably doing the lit assignment he had due in on Monday, maybe wrapped in a blanket. Two blankets, even. Yeah, his dorm sounded pretty great right now, even if he did have the roommate from hell. Fate had other plans, though. Right as he made the decision to head back, he heard his name being called. Turning, he saw Buffy waving frantically from the door. Huffing to himself, he turned back again and headed to meet her.

"He's with me," Buffy said with a smile to the bouncer. The guy looked doubtful as Cyrus slipped passed, but he didn't question it again. 

"The reception is really bad in here," Buffy said apologetically, pulling him into a sideways hug. "But you found the place okay, right? I mean you're here, so that's good. I didn't think you'd come. I’m glad you did.”

She seemed unusually antsy, and he suspected she was a little nervous about introducing him to her friends. He would be nervous too if he was her, he knew he wasn’t much, especially to a group of cool and interesting people. He decided it was best not to tell her that he almost didn't come. He had been perfectly ready to stay in his dorm all night, even though it was a Friday night and he had little to no social life at the current moment in time with all the work his professors had been throwing at him. Except, Roommate-From-Hell-Reed had come banging into the room, all but yelling into his cellphone to some girl. Cyrus had been able to stand it for about ten minutes, and then he got tired of hearing the word "baby". A night at some dive being shoved around by sweaty drunks wasn't much of an improvement, but at least he didn't have to listen to Reed's obnoxious flirting. 

"It's good you came," Buffy continued. "You don’t get out enough. I think you'll like the band too, and they're friends with Andi and Marty. They’re pretty good - I mean, TJ is a little obnoxious, but they’ve already got a big following on MySpace, and they’re close to getting a deal with Cranked...” Cyrus let her pull him through the crowd, nodding in all the right places but struggling to keep up. Who was TJ? Cranked? What was that? He felt like she was speaking another language. “

They've even got some songs recorded now... did you know Gus- you know Gus Knight? He works at the dining hall. Apparently he’s local and has this whole studio set up in his mom’s basement. He has all the equipment and everything. It's crazy.”

"Crazy," Cyrus agreed, narrowly avoiding getting elbowed by a teary girl gesturing wildly at a boy that looked too out of it to be taking in what she said. The whole arena smelled like puked. He prayed that none got on him. "So when are these Cranked guys meant to go on?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Cranked is a record label, Cy. The band’s called Conduit For Gods.”

The problem was not that Cyrus wasn’t into music. He liked music. He thought it was fun, especially if you could sing bad karaoke to it, and who didn't like to listen to their iPod on the bus? But Buffy's friends' world seemed to revolve around music, more specifically punk music, and the whole scene that came with it. He had accepted a few of their invitations to hang out just to be polite, but most of them involved parties and shows. Parties and shows meant drinking and coming home with wild stories. Cyrus wasn’t a wild stories kind of guy.

As a kid, he had really wanted to be a wild stories kind of guy. He’d longed to be one of the popular kids who knew how to make friends with everybody, who was never bored on a Friday night and wasn’t totally invisible. He had never succeeded in becoming that kind of guy. Even at college, where he'd figured it would be easy. All the television shows and magazines had made it seem like that was what you were meant to do in college - party and drink. Become your own person. Become interesting. 

What he'd learned from actually being in college? He didn't like to party and drink. He had no problem with other people doing it, obviously, but he'd rather he was far away from them while they did. Drunk people had a habit of throwing up on him, and in crowds like this Cyrus had lost his shoe more than once. They might be drenched in grimy rainwater, but tonight he felt like keeping his shoes firmly on his feet. Preferably not covered in somebody's dinner. The other thing he’d learned was that he didn’t really vibe with the whole alternative music scene... or it didn’t vibe with him. He liked things neat and non-violent. In his experience, college-aged punks liked things sweaty and aggressive. Sometimes with a hint of insane thrown in. It’s not like it scared him or anything, he just didn’t want to die in a mosh pit.

“They’re on at ten. You want me to grab you a drink? I got us a table - I know you don’t like being in the crowd.”

He gave her a grateful smile, forgiving and forgetting the last half an hour in one fell swoop. Buffy was a really good friend not just sometimes, but all the time, even if she did make him hang out with scary people that wore studs and eyeliner. She always respected his boundaries.

As she disappeared towards the bar, he meandered his way over to the table she’d pointed out to him. There were a couple of bags and jackets strewn across the booth’s seats, but no people present. Scanning the crowd, he managed to spot Marty and Andi stood off to the side with a couple of other people. Andi caught his eye and waved him over, but he shook his head. She rolled her eyes, but smiled and sent him a thumbs up anyway. He smiled back.

Andi was a nice girl. A cool girl. She wore her hair cropped short and spiky, had a leather jacket with her name painted artfully across the back and her skin was constantly smudged with paint or coal or glue from her art projects. She’d known Buffy forever, and Cyrus was still surprised someone as cool as her was willing to hang out with a loser like him. It was the same with Buffy, honestly. He was always one step behind the laughter and she was the one making people laugh. Once, he’d made the mistake of voicing these thoughts out loud and Buffy had smacked him over the head with a copy of Rolling Stone, telling him he was being stupid and that he was cool. He knew she was lying, but he appreciated the lie anyway. 

A figure loomed over him and he turned.

“That was quick,” he started to say, but the words died on his lips. It wasn’t Buffy.

“Um, hi,” Said the most beautiful boy in the history of all existence.

Bright red hair. Green eyes ringed in black. Torn up denim jacket over plaid over faded t-shirt. Cyrus mentally catalogued all of these things and tried to unstick his tongue from where it seemed to be stuck to the roof of his mouth. He wasn’t sure what to do. How did English work again? What were words?

In the end, he stuck one awkward hand out before he could stop himself and stuttered out a greeted. The guy took it with a warm smile and shook. 

“I’m Cyrus,” Cyrus finally managed to say.

Understanding dawned on the guy’s face. “Oh, you’re Buffy’s friend. That’s cool. I’m TJ, Marty’s roommate,” he jerked a thumb back towards the crowd. Much to Cyrus’ horror, he realised Andi and Marty were watching them with interest. He dropped TJ’s hand quickly. “I was just grabbing the keys to the van, could you pass me that bag?”

Cyrus did as asked, expecting TJ to take it and flee from the obviously crazy person who had just shaken his hand like they were at some sort of business meeting instead of a nightclub, but he didn’t move from where he was standing. Instead, he rummaged through the bag for a second and then withdraw a set of car keys and dumped it back on the table. Turning, he signalled to one of the guys in the crowd and launched the keys through the crowd. 

“So are you sticking around after the show?” TJ said, turning back to Cyrus with a curious smile. 

No. Cyrus was going to go home and shower at least twice then snuggle up in bed and get a good night’s sleep where nobody could accidentally spill a suspicious substance on his nice clean pants.

“Yeah, I think so,” is what came out of Cyrus’ mouth.

“Awesome,” TJ grinned, the thousand-watt smile disarming Cyrus once again. “Well, I gotta scoot, ‘cause it’s my band…”

“Oh! You’re in Condu-whatsit?”

“Conduit For Gods,” he laughed. “Yeah, I’m the singer.”

Oh great, a cute guy in a band. Just what Cyrus needed to make this interaction less intimidating.

“Break a leg?” He offered.

He didn’t know if he was imagining it or not (probably) but TJ looked a little reluctant to go, but after a moment he flashed him another smile and departed. Cyrus resisted the urge to bang his head on the table and berated himself for not being able to hold a conversation like a normal person. Oh man, he had made himself look like a total idiot. Luckily, Buffy returned not long after, and he drowned his sorrows in his drink. 

*

“Okay, not to be dramatic but we have to play the best show we’ve ever played tonight,” TJ said, speeding over to Jonah behind the stage.

Jonah looked up from tuning his guitar in surprise. “I thought the label weren’t seeing us ‘til next week?”

“It’s not a rep,” he shook his head and sighed as dramatically as he could manage. “I just met the most amazing guy I’ve ever seen and I’m pretty sure we’re soulmates, so we have to impress him, okay?”

“Soulmates, huh?” Jonah grinned. “Do you even know this guy’s name?”

“Cyrus.”

“Cyrus? As in Buffy’s Cyrus?”

“That’s the one.”

“Okay, man. If you say so.”

The stage fright seemed twice as intense as usual as TJ clicked the microphone on. Through the glare of the lights and the packed room he could barely make out the table tucked away in the corner where Cyrus was sat. The crowd roared back as he greeted them, and it felt like the entire room exploded into life as the boys launched into the first song. For the first time ever, TJ worried less about cracking a rib as he surfed across the top of the crowd and more about how exactly he was going to ask Cyrus for his number without sounding weird. 

But by the time the show was over and TJ was drenched in his own sweat while blood dripped down from his nose from where someone had accidentally hit him in the face during the last song, Cyrus was nowhere to be found, and the question of the phone number became obsolete. 

[potaetaezz]

|| Sweet like Coffee || 5

prev << >> next

pairing: Nct Dream x Reader  [female]

genre/au: fluff | teeny bit of angst (to come) | enemies to lovers | Everyone is just a clueless bunch of weirdos, you get the drill.

warnings: slight swearing, immature content

A/N: its’s my first fanfic so no judgment lol | Finally a long chp | I’m so sorry if my fanfics are late, I’ve so much studying to do | here we go~

_____________________________________

Monday [2:14]

His eyes were dark and looked as if they were searching for something deep within yours. The corner of his mouth curled up in an unsettling way. Looking at him now, as close as you were, you could see a small scar just above his jawline, and a few smile lines below his eyes. (although you’ve never really seen him smile)                                                                                                                                            You could feel his hot breath on you, and if you were to move any closer, you might kiss the arrogance from his mouth. You could see the specs of gold and allure in his eyes, as they bore into yours, almost devouring you. He was almost flawless. Until he spoke.

“Yes?” You said, trying to hide the waver in your voice.

“I believe you owe me.” His eyes found this amusing. You, however, did not.

You scoffed at his unnatural confidence. “I think it’s the other way around.”

“An apology.” He was overflowing with stubbornness.

“That would be nice, go ahead.” But so were you.

Your conversation was filled with sarcasm, witty comments a touch of amusement.

“If I remember correctly I spilled coffee on you by accident, you did it on purpose.”

He was right and you hated to admit it.

You tried to protest, that he never even apologised and instead gave a cringey remark, but he wasn’t taking it. He just laughed over his shoulder.

“I’ll be expecting a coffee on my desk tomorrow morning. Strong, iced, no milk.”

“And if there’s not?” your voice trailed after him as he sauntered off, as smug as ever.

“I’ll tell Jeno.”

——— 

As you entered the room, you saw Renjun sitting on your desk talking with Jeno, waiting to hear the news. Your mind raced with questions and worry stemming from Jaemin’s obnoxious words.

“Well?” Renjun looked at you with eager eyes.

“He just wanted to talk.” you attempted, facing the floor.

“As long as everything’s okay.” He didn’t ask questions for he knew you wouldn’t answer them.

“Of course, now get off my desk.” you laughed.

As you took your seat, Jeno faced you fully, with uncertainty growing in every breath.

“You sure y/n?”

You knew he wouldn’t give this up until you told him what happened. Jeno was such a caring person, always making sure people were okay or comfortable.

“Yeah, he just--“ you panicked, you couldn’t tell him Jaemin basically blackmailed you because he’d start asking questions which you couldn’t answer. “He apologised.”

You didn’t anticipate the disbelief that masked his face.

‘Shit’ you muttered under your breath. You forgot he was his best friend for a second.

“Jaemin did? Na Jaemin?”

You nodded shyly. What else could you do but play along. You’ve already said too much.

Then he laughed and a smile emerged, yet your heart speeded up with worry, and you laughed a cautious laugh.

--------

What surprised you most about the day was the fact that Jeno actually kept his promise of bringing you to the cake shop. It was in a quite popular area of the city. There were plants and flowers hanging from the ceiling and walls. The benches by the windows were covered in pillows and light green and pink colours were splattered everywhere.

You tried to pay, but he wouldn’t take it. He was such a gentleman, always.

You sat down in the corner with two small cakes and two coffees. He took aesthetic pictures of you in front of the window and threatened to post them on Instagram. (He did, but only when he got home). Being like this with Jeno, eased your heart a little bit. Renjun and Lila ended up joining as well an hour and a half later. Renjun got along really well with Jeno, and Lila was herself, truly herself.

You haven’t smiled like that in a while. It warmed your heart as you walked home, Jeno ended up following you, as Renjun went with Lila.

Jeno seemed to let down his guard in the moonlight, and he spoke more freely and casually. He was kicking a stone behind you, laughing when he missed, like a child.

But then his deeper and curious side got the better of him.

“Y/n,” he began, his voice deeper than the ocean as he spoke your name softly. “Do you believe in love at first sight.”

That caught you unaware. 

The innocence of his voice, mixed with the profound curiosity hiding in the question made you drunk. On the moonlight and everything left unsaid.

You thought about the answer in your head first. “No. I believe that you can be attracted to someone at the start, but it’s who they are that makes you fall into love.”

He smiled. It seemed he too was drunk on the moonlight. You gestured to him for his opinion. 

“I don’t know.” his eyes met yours, “I’ve never been in love.” The way the words fell from his mouth made your eyes soften and heart flutter.

The rain began slowly, but neither of you noticed. You were both listening intently to every word in the song Jeno played on his phone. As it began to get heavier, nothing changed. Water rolled down your cheek, but you didn’t rush home. For you loved the rain, and perhaps Jeno’s company even more.

When you reached your door, his eyes gazed into yours, his hand faintly pushed the hair on your face behind your ear. You wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and bury yourself in his warmth or to lift your chin ever so slightly and have your lips meet his. But before he left, you grabbed a scarf from inside and wrapped it loosely around his neck. Your heart ached to say goodbye. 

But his smile soothed the pain.

“Goodnight.”

———

Tuesday [7:46]

This was the first time this year Renjun didn’t come to wake you with coffee in his hands. You decided to save yourself the embarrassment of an extra pair of eyes, watching you leave a coffee for the Na Jaemin. You walked into school super early. An idea struck you. The embarrassment doesn’t only have to be for you. You could twist things around ever so slightly.

There was barely anyone in school yet, apart from a few lonely souls haunting the hallways. You saw Lila’s table, and beside it, Jaemin’s.

Bingo

Knowing Lila’s addiction to gossip, she would love this, she will love this. You set the coffee down as well as a note. Definitely, the most sickly sweet note you’ve ever written. It included a few pet names and wayy too many hearts.  

You actually gagged writing the note. Oh well, it was for a good cause, kind of. You just wished you could see Jaemin’s face when he reads it. It might even add a bit of color to his cheeks.

The rest of the day was quiet, apart from your heart around Jeno, and for a while, you almost forgot about the whole ‘tutoring Haechan’ thing. You weren’t even that good at English, but looking into Jeno’s eyes you’d agree to anything. 

You went to the school library early, to set up. You chose the seat in the corner. You got Haechan a coffee willingly so that he might despise you a little bit less. 

You waited until it was about 5:30 but there was still no sign of Haechan. It annoyed you, to say the least.

And just as you were about to start packing up, the brown-haired boy sat down in front of you, not a school bag insight.

“You’re late.” You hissed.

“Am I?” Sarcasm hidden in his voice.

You shoved the coffee over to him and rolled your eyes. “Just please be on time please, I actually have things to do. 

He didn’t reply, and you took that as an agreement.

His eyes were full of disinterest and spec of disdain.

“Where’s your book?” You sounded like a mother, but you couldn’t help it.

“In my bag.”

“Which is where?”

“At home.” he laughed. He dared to laugh.

You got up abruptly, packing your bag. 

“Look.” your voice wavered, but you were serious. “I’m not wasting my time with someone who—” You stopped mid-sentence. His eyes now full of guilt and acknowledgment. (in like 0.02 seconds)

“Sorry, my mom’s in the hospital.”

You wished you could take back all of your anger. “God Haechan, or Donghyuck. I’m so sorry, I’m not the most patient person in the world.” You attempted a smile. “Is everything okay? You don’t have to say anything if you don’t wan—.” You stopped again.

He began laughing and then smiling such a pure smile. (the duality??…)

“You can call me Haechan, and everything’s okay now.” He was like a whole different person

You were shocked at how like 0.02 seconds ago he was probably the most intimidating person you’ve ever known. But now he’s full of pure smiles and cute expressions. 

You began the lesson. He wasn’t great, but he had potential. And that was perfect for you. He attempted every question, and you felt like a proud mom watching him get the hang of it. His innocence didn’t last very long though.

In the middle of doing a question, he looked up, eyes gazing deeply into yours. His eyes changed, from purity to arrogance, which made you stop reading.

“So,” His eyes now bore into yours. All signs of innocence now gone. His mouth curled into a smirk. Like he knew something you didn’t. Which he did.

“What’s going on with Jeno?” He smiled wickedly. He leaned in closer. Whispering words that gently just brushed your ear. “Or perhaps Jaemin?”

_____________________________________

>> Next chapter out the 29th. <<  feedback is appreciated!

[artificialqueens]

break up with ur girlfriend (3/3) - dartmouth420

a/n: part 3: in which Raven makes an ethically questionable decision, Raja really doesn’t like mornings, absolutely nothing will crush Manila’s positive attitude, and Jujubee throws a curve ball

basically ye olde morning after weirdness

thanks for reading :)

Raven awoke tired and a little hungover in bed with Manila and Raja. She raised her head and sighed, then noticed the tall glass of water on the bedside table. She loosely remembered Raja padding out of the room just as Raven was drifting off (thoroughly fucked out and happy) and placing something on the bedside table. That was kind of her, especially considering the circumstances in which they’d met. Raven raised the glass and took a big drink, appreciative.

Raven sat on the edge of the bed quietly, not wanting to wake them. Maybe she’d go and make coffee or something. Or maybe she should just leave. Raven glanced over her shoulder. A perfect ray of sunlight was hitting the bed where Manila and Raja were still curled up, asleep, and whole thing was aesthetically glorious.

Raven wondered if what was about to do was ethical. But then she shrugged, and raised her phone. Also, she really liked them, and might be interested in seeing them again, so she held no malicious intent.

The photo she took was from a strong angle, consisting of the corner of her face, one eye visible, eyebrow raised, blonde hair smooth close to her head. Behind her was the bed, and Raja and Manila curled up, still asleep. Raja was deep in the covers, only one closed eye, her forehead and a streak her long grey hair visible. Manila was next to Raja, lying on her back fast asleep with her mouth open, the cover pulled up to her chin.

She hit send.

BITCH replied Juju, quickly, with about eighteen emojis, you fucked them both???

you bet replied Raven, smug.

Wait a sec, Juju replied. Then the second text came in.

ohhhhhh YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE IT

what?? Raven looked down at her phone, concerned.

BITCH THE GIRL ON THE LEFT IS MY SECOND COUSIN

The blood drained from Raven’s face, and she looked back at Manila, who was… well, a young woman who’s last name she hadn’t asked for and who’s social media who hadn’t checked out. But in a big, multicultural city like this who would’ve expected her to be related to Raven’s best friend?

fuckkkk

Juju sent her a text containing twenty laugh-crying emojis and one devil, followed by a vomit-face.

uhhhh, don’t be grossed out but she’s hot, replied Raven, who was finding the situation as distressing as it was funny. This new factoid raised the stakes, seeing this couple was no longer an entirely anonymous entity.

She mildly regretted sending the photo. Maybe it was an invasion of privacy.

BITCH DON’T TELL ME THAT ABOUT MY COUSIN

idk if anyone knows she’s gay tbh that whole side of the family is pretty religious

i didn’t know lol

oh shit I’m sorry… was just trying to brag to u about my conquest haha

why are u like this it’s fucked up lol

idk lol

thanks for telling me

but like

i might wanna see her again?

maybe both of them ;) ??? typed out Raven, hitting send with some mild guilt. She’d definitely need to sit down and think about this later. After she had some caffeine.

o really?

yeah…

aw <3

Raven smiled at the phone. She really loved Juju, they’d been best friends since college, and truly shared everything.

can’t wait to be ur in-law, teased Juju,

imma bring u really cheap wedding gifts

ur getting an off-brand slow cooker

BITCH!

anyway g2g <3 <3

hmu later <3

Raven got up and walked to the bathroom. She quickly rinsed her face and mouth. She put the unexpected information from Juju about Manila aside for now, and decided not address it. This really wasn’t the time or the place. Then she padded over to the kitchen. It was a bit cluttered, clearly well-used and loved.

There was an espresso machine on the counter, and Raven grinned. She knew how to work one of those, having done the time in her early twenties as a barista. While the water heated, Raven looked at the pictures on the fridge. There were kitschy magnets from a few places around the world, ‘Paris, je t'aime!’, and several photos, including two goofy school pictures of Raja and Manila respectively. Manila glared at the camera, about thirteen and deep in an emo phase, judging by her racoon-like eyeliner, back-combed hair and striped long-sleeved shirt. Raja’s picture was more innocent, a goofy-looking androgynous nine-year old with a big smile, round face and black hair sticking up awkwardly.

Raven snorted a laugh. She appreciated this couple’s sense of humour, displaying silly pictures on their fridge.

She sighed. She shared her apartment somewhat resentfully with two room mates. It wasn’t an ideal situation but it was cheap and because of that she’d been able to put aside some savings. If only Tyra would do the dishes every once in a while. Not to mention she was pretty sure Nicole had a crush on her, and she had to figure out how to let the other girl down easy. In fact, Nicole was probably taking her dog for a walk right now. Raven winced and sighed. Whatever, these were problems for Future Raven. Hopefully she’d find a better job soon, and move on.

The espresso machine was gurgling, so Raven moved over and dealt with it.

A few minutes later she snuck back into the bedroom with three cups of espresso. She was a little nervous, this wasn’t something she’d normally do. She was more of a leave immediately after sex or quickly in the morning kind of lover. But this felt like the right thing.

She put the coffee on the bedside table and sat on the bed, heart suddenly beating quickly.

The movement of Raven sitting back down on the bed disrupted Manila, who blinked her eyes open and yawned, stretching. The movement then woke Raja, who groaned and buried her face deeper into the pillow, disappearing under the duvet. Manila blinked and smiled sleepily at Raven.

“Good morning… oh! You made coffee!” said Manila, and she threw the covers off and made for the bedside table where Raven had put the little cups, “Oh my god, is that espresso?”

“Did somebody say espresso?” muttered Raja from deep in the blankets.

“Yeah, I made some,” said Raven, gently.

“That’s nice, you’re so sweet!” enthused Manila, kissing Raven on the cheek. Manila was shockingly perky, having been awake for less than one minute, “And I thought you were all mean and sexy last night…”

“She’s great. Keep your voice down,” muttered Raja.

Raven stifled a laugh, and sipped her own coffee. Manila crawled off the bed and threw on a robe, before sitting next to Raven and drinking her coffee in silence. Eventually, a long brown arm stuck out of the pile of covers that contained Raja, and Manila carefully put the cup of espresso into her hand. The arm retreated into the pile of covers almost cartoonishly. The only evidence of Raja’s existence was a small slurp and a happy sigh.

“I had a really nice time with you two, last night,” whispered Raven, putting a hand on Manila’s thigh.

“Aw thanks! I did too, and Raja as well,” replied Manila, quietly.

“Lovely, so… I can leave whenever, if you’ve got something you’re doing today-”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” replied Manila, smiling so that the edges of her eyes crinkled happily, “Neither of us have plans, you can hang out for breakfast, whatever suits you.”

“Right, well,” replied Raven, her heart glowing a little upon hearing she was welcome to stay, “I really need to shower.”

“Mmm, I think I’ll join you,” said Manila, putting down her cup down. They both glanced back at the pile of blankets and pillows that contained Raja somewhere deep within it.

“Yeah, she won’t be really awake for a while.”

-

Of course, Raven ended up on her knees in the shower eating Manila out against the wall. A truly good start to the day, Raven mused to herself as Manila squirmed and gasped, throwing her head back with pleasure. What could be better?

When they were finally done, they found Raja in the kitchen, starting to cook. The older woman had put her hair up on top of her head in a messy bun, wore dark-rimmed glasses and an elaborately patterned silk robe.

“Your glasses are too cute,” said Raven, as she towelled her hair dry. She was wearing a borrowed bathrobe, one of an apparently infinite supply, “Anything I can help with?”

“No, just sit there and look pretty,” replied Raja, with an affectionate smile.

“That’ll be easy.”

Breakfast was insanely good. It was better than any breakfast Raven had had in a long time, and she’d certainly worked up an appetite. Raja could really cook. They hung around the table for a while, chatting away about plans for the weekend and this and that. Eventually Raven changed, slipping her dress from last night back on, feeling a bit weird next to the other two, who were wearing relaxed weekend clothes. It was time to retreat to her own apartment and chill out.

“I think I’ll call an uber,” said Raven to Raja. Manila was checking her phone, and Raja was putting dishes in the sink.

“I can give you a ride,” said Raja, shrugging.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem.”

“Okay, thanks,” said Raven. She supposed it’d be worth it to save the eight dollars on the ride.

“Manila, you want to come?” asked Raja, half-turning towards the other woman.

“Ah, no, sorry I have to make a call in a few minutes,” said Manila, giving Raven an apologetic smile.

Manila then engaged in a drawn out goodbye with Raven, leaving her with lingering kisses and an exchange of numbers. Raja watched from the door, lacing up her shoes, and raised a single eyebrow. Then Raven got her little purse and left with Raja. Her high-heeled club shoes clicked along the floor of the hallway.

In the carpark under the building, they approached an ugly 90’s style green car.

“Wow, this thing is ancient,” joked Raven, sitting down on the worn passenger seat. But unlike Juju’s car that seemed to be always covered in empty takeout containers and random garbage, Raja’s was meticulously clean. Raven didn’t have a car, but everything she did was comfortably within either cycling or public transit distance, and for anything that wasn’t Juju would drive her.

“Yeah, so everyone tells me,” chuckled Raja, shifting into gear, “But it’s reliable, hasn’t died yet. I made it through Hurricane Katrina in this thing.”

“You can drive stick?” asked Raven, curious, “Also… what?”

“Yep,” replied Raja, winking, “And I’ll tell you that story sometime if you’re lucky.”

“Hmm.” Raven was impressed and she eyed Raja’s tattooed hand on the gearshift as she confidently manoeuvred the car out of the parkade into the street. The bright sun burst through the windshield, and reflected off of Raja’s white Tshirt.

“So,” said Raven as they drove, after she’d given Raja her address. She felt a bit exposed, without any makeup on and her hair still slightly damp from the shower.

“So,” replied Raja, smirking a little at Raven’s uncharacteristic hesitance, “Manila gave you her number, right?”

Raven nodded, and then she had no idea why she said it, but suddenly it was out of her mouth, “It turns out I distantly know her.”

“Oh yeah? From where?”

“She’s my friend Juju’s second cousin.”

Raja stiffened at the mention, shifting the clutch and accelerating through the green light, “You know her family?”

“No. She just happens to be related to her. Juju’s my best friend,” replied Raven, inwardly cursing. Why had she even mentioned it?

“How did you find out?”

“Checked out her instagram this morning, realized the connection,” Raven lied quickly, guilt flaring in her stomach.

“Right. Well. Manila’s family is pretty religious,” said Raja matter-of-factly, but Raven could see lingering resentment in her expression, “Let’s just say they don’t approve of us and leave it at that. Maybe don’t mention this to your friend.”

“Of course not.”

“Good.”

Raven wondered if she could have handled that better. But then again, family was complicated.

They pulled up at Raven’s soon after that. Raven was having a hard time getting a read on Raja, so she decided to say exactly how she felt and Raja could interpret it however she so desired. They’d been quiet for the last few minutes of the drive. It was a beautiful day, thought Raven, looking out the window at the bright blue sky.

“Well, I had a great time with you two last night and I hope you stay in touch, I’d love to see you again,” said Raven, with a warm smile as she opened the door to get out.

“I had a good time as well,” said Raja, with a half-smile, “I, ah, just felt a bit weird with you bringing up Manila’s family. I’m basically suspicious of anyone who knows them since they’ve been so shitty to us over the years. But yeah, I like you too. Until next time.”

And then Raja leaned in and kissed Raven intently. Raven raised her eyebrows, surprised. And then Raja pulled back and gave her an absolutely filthy grin, and when Raven left the car she waved. Raven waved back and saw in Raja the same goofy energy as she’d seen in the childhood photo on her fridge. It was a bit of a shock after her cool exterior, but charming.

Hmmm. It seemed the night before had worked out in the best way possible. Raven opened the front door to her building and nodded pleasantly to her elderly neighbour, who looked her up and down disapprovingly.

Raven walked up the two flights of stairs towards her apartment, feeling thoroughly satisfied. She had work on Monday and a bunch of laundry and groceries and chores to do before then. Also, Juju would be back Sunday afternoon and she was looking to reuniting with her best friend after their brief time apart.

There was much to discuss.

-

The following morning she received a text.

You doing anything next weekend? :P

Raven raised an eyebrow and replied, new phone who dis

It’s Manila!!! Omg you’re the worst lol

that’s what they all say

hmmmmm i think i’m available friday ;)

Yay!! We’ll be in touch, Manila sent a quick photo of herself and Raja, a selfie in Raja’s car. Manila was sticking her tongue out at the camera and Raja was looking at something out of frame, light reflecting off her glasses. There were bags full of groceries behind them in the back seat.

Raven smiled down at her phone like a love-struck fool.

[freddiesaysalright]

Catching Up Part III

A Joe Mazzello x Reader Fic

Summary: Reader is a writer for an entertainment news network and after Joe comes in to do an interview, they reconnect.

Word Count: 1.7K (sorry it’s so short! I mostly needed to set up for the next chapters)

Tag List: @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @jennyggggrrr @somethinginthewayiam @grandaddy-roger-trash @rogerloveshiscar @hopefully-aesthetically-pleasing If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: I really don’t know yet how many parts there are gonna be. I know what the story is but however long it ends up is just whatever at this point.

Part I  Part II 

Part 3 here we go!!!

You prepared to go out with Joe for the second night in a row, but just before you left work, you texted Christy that you’d be out late. She sent a smiley face in return and then an eggplant emoji with a question mark. You sent back one with rolling eyes, since that was exactly what you were doing.

Joe met you in the lobby on the ground floor of the building. He smiled at you and you felt your heart skip a beat at the sight. You ran up to him, leaping into his arms and wrapping your legs around his waist. He caught you and spun you around before setting you down.

“I’m happy to see you, too,” he said as you settled back on your feet.

“What are we doing tonight?” you wondered.

“I thought we’d do a little dance...make a little love...basically, get down tonight,” he said.

You laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I did actually find a place to go dancing and thought we could hang out there,” he said.

“Lead the way, Romeo.”

He took your hand and you walked to the bar. You chatted animatedly about work, and he told you the things he and the guys had done in the city that day. You told him you’d seen some of that on Instagram.

“You follow me on Instagram?” he wondered.

“Of course!”

He whipped his phone out. “What’s your handle, I need to follow you back.”

You told him, and you heard your phone ping in your purse to alert you to a new follower.

Finally, you arrived at the place. It looked so nice. It wasn’t a club - it was more elegant than that. But clearly people came there to dance. Only to a woman playing the piano and singing, with a sax player to accompany her instead of a DJ. It felt so old fashioned and cool.

He grabbed a table and you put your things down. He asked the couple next to you if they would watch your things and they nodded, so he took your hand and led you out to the dance floor. His arm wrapped around your waist. Yours came to his shoulder. Your free hands clasped and he began to lead you.

“Where’d you learn to dance so divinely?” you asked.

“My parents,” he said with a small smile. “They danced together all the time.”

“How sweet,” you said.

“You know, my mom actually used to tease me about my crush on you,” he told you.

“That’s funny,” you replied. “My mom used to tease me about my crush on you.”

“You’re kidding!” he joked.

You giggled. “I can’t believe you had a crush on me.”

“I know, it’s embarrassing,” he said, laughing.

You playfully hit him on the shoulder. “Shut up! I just mean that...I dunno, you were so out there and comfortable and fun. And I was this awkward little weirdo who wrote stories about cowboys and aliens.”

“Those were fun,” he insisted.

“Joe, tell me something.”

“Anything.”

“Why did you ask me out? Just for old times’ sake?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I mean, I was sure I recognized you when I saw you in the newsroom, and then when Don said your name, it just confirmed it. But I was attracted to you right away. I mean, even if we hadn’t known each other before, I would have noticed you across that room. I would notice you in any room.”

Your cheeks went pink and you were thankful for the low light.

The song changed to Henry Mancini’s “Moon River” and you grinned so wide you wondered how your face could contain it.

“This is my favorite song!” you gasped.

“I can tell!” Joe said with a light chuckle.

The version they played was beautiful. The sax had the melody, and you felt your heart swell at the sound. You pulled Joe a little closer and rested your head on his chest. The sound of “Moon River” and Joe’s heartbeat made you feel like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. It was a moment of utter completeness.

“I know we just got here, and I was gonna wait until the end of the night,” he said. “But, Y/N, you look damn beautiful, and I wanna kiss you so bad.”

“Kiss me, Joe.”

Your lips met just as the final chorus played, the crescendo matching your feelings exactly. He was gentle and tender as he kissed you, as if he were feeling out the level of passion appropriate. You were equally careful. Neither of you backed away either. You were just treading lightly on new ground.

He pulled away and looked at you. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted it. Someone was capturing you and Joe and their phone. Your stomach fluttered, and you looked back at him, panicked.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Someone’s recording us,” you whispered. “Behind you.”

“Oh, shit,” he hissed. “Is it phone cameras too?”

You nodded and buried your face into his chest, hoping his frame blocked you. Joe turned his head and spotted the person.

“Gimme one second,” he said. “Go ahead and sit at the table.”

You nodded, shoved some of your hair in your face and retreated to the table. You peeked over to watch Joe go over and talk to the man. The man appeared to apologize and then they posed for a selfie. You almost laughed. Leave it Joe to make a friend out of something like this. You watched him come back over to you before he took a seat.

“No worries,” he said. “I told him he could have a real picture if he deleted the sneaky one. I don’t know why people don’t just ask.”

You only nodded, taking deep breaths to subvert the anxiety threatening to overwhelm you. Joe took your hand and kissed the back of it.

“I’m here, you’re safe,” he said.

You calmed down and looked at him apologetically. “I’m sorry. It’s just a weird thing.”

“I’m sure it’s not weird,” he said. “Can I ask...where does this come from?”

“I might as well tell you since they’re out there,” you began. “My ex sold naked photos of me online. While we were together.”

Joe’s eyes went wide.

“What?!” he yelled, and you shushed him and grabbed his arm as people turned to look. “Why?” he asked, calmer.

“He had a drug problem,” you explained. “Heroin. And after he lost his job, that was how he paid for it.”

“That’s terrible,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s my fault, really,” you said looking at your lap. “We got drunk one night, and I had gotten him this really nice camera for his birthday. He told me I should pose. And I did. The next day, I completely regretted it and asked him to delete the photos, and he said he would. I didn’t even bother to check the camera. I trusted him, y’know?”

“Did you know he was using at the time?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No. I found out about that almost a year later and that’s why I ended it. I only found out about the photos because after I broke up with him, he sent them to everyone in my life, even my family. I lost my job because my boobs were trending locally on Twitter. I actually write under a different name because when you Google mine, those are still in the top results. So please don’t Google me.”

“I won’t, I promise,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“Jesus,” he continued. “That’s...so fucking horrible.”

“There ya go, there’s my baggage,” you said, trying to make light of it.

“It’s not…” he trailed off. “I don’t see it that way. And also, that was so not your fault. You posed for the pictures, but you were drunk, and you didn’t consent to them being distributed. You also have every right to be wary of cameras you have no control over.”

You cupped his face in your hand, you heart spilling with affection.

“You’re very sweet to care about this for me,” you said.

“I care about everything when it comes to you,” he replied.

You kissed him again.

He spent the rest of the evening making you laugh and twirling you all over the dance floor. You hardly had any alcohol but you felt intoxicated. Completely drunk on Joe. Between dancing, kissing, and laughing, you felt swept off your feet. You never wanted your time with him to end. You wanted this night to last as long as possible.

So, when Joe walked you home, you invited him in. It was just for some water at first, but then you kissed again, needy and a little sloppy. His hands roamed your body. You buried your fingers in his hair. It was hot and fun and a little reckless. But you liked it. More importantly, you liked Joe. So you took a risk with him.

Waking up in Joe’s arms felt like a dream. The sun shining on his hair made it look fiery red and his skin looked like marble. You ran your fingers delicately across his chest. His eyes fluttered open and he looked at you.

“Morning,” he said groggily.

“Good morning,” you returned. “Look, Joe, I know you’re not staying in New York long, so I don’t know what any of this means, but...I really like being with you.”

“God, Y/N,” he chuckled. “So serious first thing in the morning.”

You giggled. “I just wanted you to know where my head’s at. I’m not asking anything of you, okay?”

He rolled on top you and looked deeply into your eyes. “Can I ask something of you?”

“Anything, Joe.”

“Be with me,” he said. “I like you, you like me, let’s be a couple. I don’t like being weird and vague. Let’s simplify it.”

When you previously thought about this, you figured you would turn it down. He was going away and you were staying and you had so little time before this happened. But, as you gazed into his earnest eyes, you found you could deny him nothing.

“Okay,” you agreed, smiling. “I guess...I’m your girlfriend.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he replied, grinning. “I can’t be the girlfriend?”

You laughed. “You can call yourself whatever you like.”

“You too,” he said, serious now. “As long as you’re mine.”

[wilwywaylan]

In only seven days (or the life and times of a sullen convenience shop employee) - part 3

Fandom : les Misérables

Modern!AU, Montparnasse x Jehan Prouvaire, 3883 words

Part 1 - Part 2

For @kujaku-myoo, @jesvisfarovche and @aux-barricades ♥

Also on AO3 !

- 

On Saturday, it's raining when Montparnasse wakes up. And not raining a little. The sky has opened, and water is pouring down the street, beating on the glass panes. He crawls out of bed just enough to look through the windows. Everything is grey and black and dripping wet. Exactly the kind of weather he hates. Usually, he spends those kinds of days buried far under the covers, or sprawled on the couch, eating ice cream (the one tub that escaped his roommates' clutches) and watching reruns of Say Yes to the Dress (his secret pleasure) while polishing his nails.  

But as much as he just wants to forget the day, he can't. Not when his freedom is hanging in the balance. So he gets out of bed, growling all the way. There's no one else in the flat. Good, because he wouldn't have been able to endure another round of goose-related stupidities. Bad, because they all left, and they took all the umbrellas they had (two). And of course his  clothes don't have hoods, because hoods will never, ever fit with a dandy aesthetic like his.

Which means that he has to go to work without any cover or shelter. And of course, to add insult to injury, the wind starts blowing the minute he goes out. He crosses the streets as fast as he can, taking shelter behind trees and bus stops and everything that can help. But it doesn't. The wind keeps blowing the rain in his face, shaking his clothes and trying to push him back where he comes from. When he finally reaches the store, he's soaking wet. The other clerk looks at him, then at the puddle already forming at his feet. He expects her to scream at him, but she just gives out a very, very long sigh, and gestures to him to follow her to the back. Normally, Montparnasse wouldn't even dream of obeying any command given to him by anyone, especially someone he doesn't know. But the rain is dripping down his back, sticking his clothes to his body, and sucking all the warmth out of his body.

She leads him in the back room, and without a word, hands him a handful of fabric. He looks at her, then at the clothes she's holding, then at her again. When he doesn't move, she puts them on the table, and just says :

- Get changed, you dork. You're gonna catch your death.

Montparnasse eyes the clothes, then her again.

- Why do you have clothes on hand ?

- Because of problems like that. We keep them there because having an 8-hour shift in damp clothes is hell, especially here. So you put them on, and you'll bring them back tomorrow.

Before Montparnasse can run away, she exits the room, leaving him on his own in the back room. A glance around teaches him that, at least, there's no camera here. It's good. If he wanted to undress, of course, and put that.... thing on him. On the other hand, he's starting to be really, really cold. And as she said, the heating is barely on here. He's going to freeze to death.

One more glance, assuring him that no one is looking at him, not in the shop nor from a camera, and he quickly disrobes. His skin when the fabric peels off is cold and wet, and he dries himself as much as he can with a corner of his shirt that escaped the storm. He can't stay like that, so he grabs the clothes and put them on, trying not to think about what he's wearing. The pants stop above his ankles, and are already worn, with a hole around one knee. On the contrary, the sweater is large enough to put two of him inside. On the chest is written the name of a sports team he doesn't care about, and it's a horrid light blue that doesn't fit him at all. But it's warm and dry, so he doesn't rip it off.

The girl is still here when he comes back. She observes him, gives him a nod (of approbation or mockery, he doesn't know) and leaves without another word. Montparnasse takes a seat behind the counter, trying to ignore the water still dripping from his hair and the shivers that run down his back.

The door flies open and hits the stand behind it, hard enough to give a shriek of tortured metal and glass. Montparnasse jumps down his seat, cursing the wind who can't even leave him alone in the shop, but it's not the wind, rather two people who come in running and immediately disappear down an aisle, leaving Montparnasse to close behind them to stop the rain from entering. He's ready to yell at him, but his words get caught in his throat when he sees the handprint on the glass. It's red.

There's a bloody handprint on the door, still fresh, and two people running inside the shop. Montparnasse can think of a thousand horror movies that start exactly like this. And more pressing, of a shit-ton of troubles coming his way.

He follows the voices coming from the depths of the shop. One of them is steady, hard to hear, but the other.... he knows it from somewhere. It's shriller than he remembers, but... He turns the corner, and here he is, the small guy with the very long scarf and the very fast tongue. The other guy is currently sitting on the floor, holding his head. His hair is shaved, which gives Montparnasse a very, very nice view of the large cut above his eyebrow. It's at least five centimetres long, seems deep, and droplets of blood are seeping out of it, rolling on his face and falling to the floor, so many that there's already a small puddle at his feet.

Scarf Guy still babbling, probably trying to reassure his friend, but the words are so muddled the other probably doesn't understand. All while talking, he's ripping open packages, pulling bandages and gauze out in what can only be described as "a fine mess". Montparnasse wants really much to scream at him to stop messing with products and breaking everything. Not that he cares, but he'll probably be in trouble. But just one look at the friend who's face is now half-covered in blood is enough. The small guy starts applying some kind of disinfectant to the wound, delaying the blood which now drips clearer.

- He'll need stitches on this.

The small guy almost jumps to the ceiling when he hears Montparnasse's voice, but still keeps dabbing at the wound with small, professional gestures. It can be commanded that he didn't hurt the other guy, didn't even touch him a little harder. The other guy, who didn't even flinch, just looks up and.... smiles. What. The guy is half covered in blood, probably in pain, and he just smiles at him.

- I probably will, he says in a noticeably even tone, but Joly really wanted to stop the bleeding first. He's afraid I'm going to lose all the blood in my body during...

- Of course you do ! Scarf Guy - Joly - cuts him. Have you seen how much you're bleeding ? Remember that you'll pass out if you lose more than two liters of blood ! And if you pass out....

Montparnasse glances at the puddle on the ground. Granted, it's very impressive to think it just came out of someone's head. But he's still far away from losing two whole litres. Joly doesn't seem to think so, however.

- And more, he goes on as he keeps cleaning the cut, what about infections ? They happen way faster than you think, and seeing as it wasn't very clean....

- I know, I know....

The other guy tries to stop the rambling, but Joly seems on a roll.

- And what about tetanus ? Did you even get your booster shot ? I bet you didn't ! It was probably rusted, and dirty, and it got into the wound, and you'll get tetanus and die !

Joly looks ready to run and check the other's guy's vaccination sheet right this instant, but the other manages to grab his arm, and he goes back to the task at work. Other Guy looks at Montparnasse with an apologetic smile.

- Sorry for that. Joly can overreact sometimes...

- I do not !

- ... but I'll be alright as soon as he can stop this...

- And take you to the hospital for a booster shot !

- And take me to the hospital, but I swear I got a booster shot.... one day.

He looks up at Montparnasse, who still hasn't moved from his spot. To be fair, he doesn't really know what he's supposed to do in that kind of situations. Should he call an ambulance ? Get him the bill ? Kick them out ? Maybe not, they aren't really breaking rules. So he just stares at the wound and Joly's hands working on it.

- You see, Other Guy starts explaining, mistaking his stare for curiosity. We were running late, but I wanted to grab something to eat. So we go to Subway, and I keep checking my watch to be sure we're not too late. The guy making my sub must have mistaken this for a mark of impatience, and maybe he was afraid of me yelling at him... which I would never do, of course, I'm not an animal. Anyway, the guy is rushing to meet my impossible and non-existent deadline, and it's there that it becomes funny...

- Of course it's not funny ! Joly screeches.

- Come on. It's funny. Anyway, he tries too fast to cut the bread, the knife slips from his hand, hits the cutting board, and I don't know how, stabs me in the head.

There's a silence that follows that declaration. A long silence. A long, heavy silence. Montparnasse stares at the head, wondering if the guy takes him for an idiot. It looks like a knife cut, okay. But still, that sounds pretty unlikely. And stupid. But Joly didn't deny it, and why would they lie anyway ? To rob a few healing supplies ?

- You got stabbed.... by a Subway employee ?

- You can see it like that. But it was an accident, I swear ! So Joly brought me here because it's just on the other side of the road, and... well, there we are !

He gives him a bright smile that's a bit tarnished by the blood still on his lip. But Joly is working fast on taking care the wound, and at least it doesn't spill everywhere anymore.

Soon, everything is properly bandaged and taken care of. Joly helps his friend on his feet, trying to support him, which is hilarious because Other Guy is one foot taller and twice his weight. If he falls, Joly will be crushed like a building under Godzilla's foot. It becomes even more unbalanced when Joly picks up a cane and leans on it. Other Guy's arm around his shoulder, he starts walking towards the exit, Other Guy following, just a little wobbly on his feet. Leaving behind blood and opened boxes. As if reading in Montparnasse's mind, Joly turns to him and says :

- Can you gather the boxes for me ? I'll come back and pay as soon as I can get him treated.

Before he can answer, they are gone, quite fast for two people in this state. Montparnasse has no other option than take care of the mess. He puts the boxes behind the counters, hoping that no one will accuse him of stealing them or something. He'll need to find Joly and make him pay for them, or else he'll be in trouble. He may ask Feuilly, or maybe Prouvaire. All those students certainly know each other.

There's still the blood to clean, and he's certainly not going to use some paper towels. If he puts some on the clothes, it'll never totally go away. Also he doesn't want to touch a stranger's blood. He goes in the back room, looks around for something to wipe the floor. There's a mop broom and a bucket in the corner. He fills it with water as warm as he can and a bit of soap still left in a bottle, and brings the whole thing back in the shop.

To find, in front of the puddles and observing them, none other than Javert. He's back to him, and Montparnasse is very tempted to run. But cops must have a sixth sense that makes them detect people-who-aren't-thieves-at-all. Javert spins on himself like he was made of one slab of stone, and his eyes fall on Montparnasse, nailing him in place.

- There you are, he growls.

Montparnasse doesn't know what to answer that's not an insult, so he just steps forwards, broom in hand. But Javert raises a hand, and Montparnasse stops before he touches him.

- I need to clean, he says, raising the broom to show him.

- Not before you explain yourself.

- What do I have to explain ?

- Why there is blood on the floor.

- Because someone bled on the floor, Montparnasse deadpans.

It doesn't seem very funny to Javert. He frowns (more), and steps forwards.

- Don't make me ask twice.

His tone is threatening, and Montparnasse remembers that he's supposed to be on his best behaviour as long as he's here, or he'll end in jail for a long time. So he sighs, and gestures to the puddle.

- A student just came here. With a friend. Who had a cut on his head. Said he had an accident. Bled on the floor. Student treated him. They're gone. Good ?

- Who was the student ?

Montparnasse doesn't answer right away. He doesn't owe anything to Joly, but does this mean he wants to throw the dogs at him ? No. No one deserves that. Then again, they didn't really do anything wrong. Just got a stupid accident. But still, there's a part of him that resists the idea.

- Why ? he asks to win some time.

He steps forwards again, but Javert stops him again.

- Do not touch that blood until I'm sure there's no crime happening here.

- "Crime" ? Do you think I stabbed someone and hid his body in the back ? You wanna check, inspector ?

- Do not mock me.

His tone hardens in a way Montparnasse didn't think possible. Maybe he shouldn't play that game too much. And, now that he remembers, Javert can request to see the monitoring footage. Playing around will help no one. Still, a last shred of prudence keeps him from spilling everything.

- Don't know the name, he says finally. He wears a scarf and walks with a cane. His friend doesn't. That's all I know.

He expects Javert to either jump on the information, or call him a liar. But to his greatest surprise, his stances... relaxes. Well, at least a little. He doesn't look ready to jump at his throat anymore.

- And what happened with those students ?

Montparnasse gives him the rundown on his encounter with Joly and his friends. Javert takes out a small notepad and writes down a few things. He closes it with a noisy clap, stuffs it in his pocket. And, sadly for Montparnasse, doesn't go away.

- What can I do for you, inspector ? he asks, not even bothering hiding the venom in his voice.

- Funny you ask me. Where were you, last morning, around seven o'clock ?

- Around seven ? Sleeping, Mr Officer.

- Do you have any witness ?

- No, sir, as surprising as it may look for someone as beautiful as me, I was sadly alone.

- Do not mock me.

- Oh, I wouldn't dare.

Javert stares him down for a moment.

- So, you're telling me you weren't around the jewellery store on Lamarque Street, yesterday  at seven ?

- Why would I have been there ?

- I'm he one asking the questions here.

Montparnasse is very tempted to send him to Hell, but he can't. So he just shakes his head.

- No, sir. I wasn't. Then again, diamonds don't really go with my natural glow.

He shouldn't joke, he knows it, but he can't help it. Besides, he's feeling way too cold to care about anything else than how he's going to get his feet warm. Javert glares at him, and for a second, he thinks that his life is really over. But finally, he turns away without a word of goodbye and leaves. Montparnasse falls on the stool and sighs. This time, it was really, really close. Like, he could have been arrested, just because Javert can't stand him. That jewellery must have been robbed, and he's zeroed on the nearest thief he knows. Who's stuck in place because he can't leave for two days more. He's lucky Javert has taken his excuse at face value, because he doesn't have any alibi, unless a bag of salt can act as an alibi. At least he's not in jail. For now.

He finally moves from his seat, because there's still the matter of that puddle of blood to clean. He's not a cleaning person at all, that's not his chore in the group, so it takes him a moment to find the most efficient way to get rid of that puddle of blood. The handprint on the window gives him the hardest time, and he has to rub and wipe for a few good minutes until the glass is pristine clean. Having to work outside doesn't make his mood better, and when he finally comes inside, he's shivering and sneezing. It doesn't bode well for the rest of the night.

Actually, no, it doesn't. During the next hour, Montparnasse feels more and more shivers climbing up his back. His feet gives him the impression they are caught in ice, and he can barely feel his fingers. And there's that weird itch in his throat. Maybe it's just an allergy, he keeps telling himself. It's dusty here, the cold air is blowing on his face and he hates air-conditioning with a passion. It's probably only this and nothing more.

Around midnight, as he's thinking really hard about calling Claquesous to his help, or wrapping himself in a pile of newspapers, the owner comes in. Montparnasse can feel his hair stand on end as he walks closer. He can't stand the guy. Not because he put him to work, even if it plays a part, but because, plainly put, the guy is creepy. Montparnasse can't stand the way he looks at him, always leering, checking him out. That's exactly what he's doing right now, his eyes diving in the hoodie's collar gaping on his collarbones. Montparnasse is tempted to close it, but his hands seem to weight tons, and he's too tired to care or move.

- So, the guy asks after an uncomfortable silence, I've seen Javert come out of here. Did something happen ? Did you have any trouble ?

Montparnasse swallows his bile and contempt together.

- Nothing, he says flatly.

- Nothing ? Are you sure ? Because judging by his face, it didn't look like nothing.

- Some guys came in. One was bleeding. They... bought some bandages and left. He wanted to know what happened. That's all.

He's not going to say that Joly hasn't paid yet for the bandages. He's not a snitch. Also, there's still a chance that he's going to be accused of the fact, and it wouldn't be good for him.

- He was bleeding ? What happened ?

- Some kind of accident. Don't know much.

- They didn't bother you, now, did they ?

The man reaches and *pats him on the arm*. Montparnasse has to restrain himself not to punch him in the face, and takes his arm away.

- No, they didn't. I'm fine.

- Very well. But don't hesitate, come to me if you need anything, okay ? Don't let Javert bother you.

Montparnasse very much wants to tell him that it's his fault that Javert is on his case, and if he really wants to help him, he can drop dead or let him go. But he doesn't, just keeps the iciest glare he can muster on the guy. Said guy seems to understand that there's no opening to be found here, because with a last pat on Montparnasse's arm, stretching over the counter to better reach him, he's gone.

As soon as he's out the door, Montparnasse rolls his sleeve up and frantically rubs the skin where the man touched him. He could really do with some soap, but the only one he can find is some kind of goo he wouldn't use to polish his shoes. His skin is way too delicate to get that kind of treatment.

At last, six o'clock comes, and with it the next shift. Montparnasse gathers his still drenched clothes in a ball, not even caring about wrinkling them anymore. The last hour has been spent in some kind of daze, watching pretty lights dancing before his eyes, and feeling like he's constantly falling. Or maybe the world is sliding around him, he doesn't know. Clothes are not his first priority right now. He grabs a can of soup on the shelf, shows it to the other clerk who writes it down, and leaves.

He barely remembers the walk home. He's more or less sure that it doesn't rain, because the clothes stay dry, but that's all he can say. The flat is dark and silent when he comes home. Which is good because he wouldn't have been able to handle his arsehole flat-mates. He pours the soup in a bowl, puts it in the microwave. While it's heating, he goes to change. He'd keep the hoodie on ; it may be gaudy and not his colour, but it's comfy and warm. But he has to give it back, so he drops it in the laundry basket. The cold air makes him shiver immediately, and he runs to his room to find something warmer. Luckily, he still owns some lounge clothes, even if he doesn't admit it, and soon, he's wrapped in a huge, all black, sweater .

When he's started the washing machine, the soup is hot, and he brings him with him in the room. It feels good, to have something hot to hold, it helps fight the icy feeling creeping up his legs. It's horrible, and he buries himself under the blankets to keep himself warm. He's shivering, and his throat burns, and his head hurts too, but he keeps telling himself that it's just the cold, and the soup he swallowed too fast, and the brutal lightning of the shop. Maybe he's tired, too. A good night of sleep, that's what he needs. He lays down, wraps himself snuggly, and closes his eyes. He'll probably feel better tomorrow.