#but i think i just need a new rhythm and a clearer plan for my dissertation so i feel like things become doable

[i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end]

Update day 1: It worked! (I mean ... it's maybe a bit early to rejoice, but still, it's a good start!) Maybe I should put up a Watson too to motivate me to take out the trash or something. :D

And also thank you to everyone who is so kind in the notes and comments. <3 I've started this post in a silly and a bit ironic Oh Look At Me I'm So Silly And a Bit Pathetic mood, but everyone saying this was a good idea is making me so emotional. :,)

Lately, I've found it very difficult to get out of bed in the mornings. So I've come up with a plan. Here it is:

I made a not at all weird little cut-out of Holmes from the 'What is it, a fire?!' scene. I am going to put it up on the shelf next to my bed and put my phone behind it. When my alarm goes off, I will have to sit up to reach my phone. I will then have to look at cardboard Holmes and I will a) be so amazed by his beauty b) have a 'do it for him' moment c) be so baffled by my own silliness that I will immediately be wide awake and get out of bed. Wish me luck.

[sxdmoonchxld]

Operation: Pop The Cherry | JJK

Jungkook x Virgin!Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: rough bathroom sex, college au, unprotected sex, teasing, fingering, Jungkook has a virgin kink if you couldn’t tell by he title, lowkey sadistic JK, Gay BFF Jimin, mentions of alcohol and weed, brief mention of homophobia. bIG diCK Jungkook, more belly bulging, and I forgot what else

Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: Against you better judgement and thank to your best friend Jimin. You somehow agreed to let a stranger on campus known as the Cherry Popper, too well..pop your cherry.

Alternatively: You're a virgin. Jungkook has a fetish/kink for fucking virgins.

A/N: I guess i’ll keep putting this note until i stop reposting my old stories. I use to be lizardsocial, and this fic was previously called Game. You may still be able to find it somewhere on tumblr. I edited this fic heavily and it’s honestly a new story, but there are still some elements from the fic it used to be still in there. Unedited so please let me know of any mistakes or typos. Like, comment, reblog, let me know what you think. Enjoy!

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Bass boosted pop music seeped through the dense walls of the energetic room. Strobing bright colored beams danced to the rhythm of the music in mesmerizing synchrony. The musty odor of marijuana, booze, and sex-saturated air shrouded the room in a turbid veil, covering the sea of drunken undulating bodies packed in the cramped living room.  Empty beer cans and other various booze bottles mixed with burnt-out blunts accompanied the young adults. You groaned with irritation and disgust. You didn't want to be here, but to your chagrin, you had a promise to keep.

It wasn't a secret that the college nightlife was unquestionably not your type of 'scene.' You quite frequently elected to willingly engage most of your time in your freshman dorm, wrapped in your weighted burrito blanket. A nightstand stockpiled with all your favorite snacks, lights dimmed low, and lavender incense burning, filling your room with the aroma of relaxation. The perfect setting to binge-watch your favorite show for the umpteenth time, the shifting distorted brightness of your computer screen, projecting the scenes against your face. 

It's kind of funny how you got yourself into this mess in the first place. The one time you decide to take the chance and branch away from the alternate antisocial hermit, your personality had adopted as its own had come back to bite you in the ass. You admit, lately, you've been neglecting your best friend. Your reasonings generally varying from the classic 'oh I was sleep' to deliberately silencing your phone, not wanting to hear the constant shrill ringing of the default ringtone. You loved Jimin, you truly did, but you could only take so much of his eccentric mashup of bubblegum and rainbow sparkles that was his personality. Eventually, guilt began eating away at you piece by piece until you ultimately caved in and invited your friend over for an impromptu movie night in your dorm room. 

Not even 30 minutes into the movie, one that you had been dying to see, might you add, Jimin commenced his drunk and high chattering. He had already started 'pre-gaming' before he came over; Six shots of straight Vodka and 2 blunts. Every day you prayed for this man's liver and brain function; with how much he drank and smoke, you would think he needed it to function. 

"Oh! Oh! Bitttch. Did I tell you about that football player, I fucckked last week!" Jimin started slurring on certain words. You noticed his eyes were glossy and glazed over. 

"No, you didn't, Chim." You sighed, completely giving up trying to watch the movie. You would have to watch it on your alone time. 

"Reeaally?" Jimin slurred, a goofy grin uplifting his lips.

"Yes, really. You haven't told me." Amusement lightly coated your voice. 

"Welll, his name is T-tae, Tae-tae something. Hold on, it's coming to me." Jimin said, rubbing the sides of his temples, trying to remember the guys' name. 

"Taehyung! That's it!" Jimin shrieked, snapping his fingers in victory.

You looked at him startled. You remember Taehyung from high school. You didn't recall him being at this college, though. Well, it wasn't like you paid attention to many things outside your bubble anyway.

"Wasn't he homophobic as fuck in high school?" You asked, genuinely interested.

"Yeah, he was. Buttt I guess he was trying to cover up, that he was actually on the DL." Jimin smiled, whispering the last part.

"DL? What's that mean?" You inquired

Jimin looked at you with a look of betrayal. "It means he's on the down-low, meaning he didn't want anyone to know he's gay. Girrl, I'm too crossfaded to be explaining this to you."

You chuckled, " My bad, Chim. So was it good?"

"Fuck, no! Dick was straight trash. The only thing that saved him a little was that his dick was huge." Jimin said, wiping away a pretend tear from the corner of his eye. 

You laughed boisterously at that. If Jimin wasn't so adamant about becoming a professional dancer. He could seriously take up a career in comedy.

"Speaking of dick. When are you gonna get some?" Jimin asked, turning his body to face you completely. As you looked at him, you noticed his eyes seemed a bit clearer, and his face wasn't as red as earlier. Not only did Jimin drink like a fish and smoke like a chimney. He was somehow able to sober just as fast.

"Oh my god, Jimin. Please don't sta-"

"Mmm, no missy," Jimin said, wagging his finger in your face.

"Don't you hear it?" He said, cupping his hand around his ear as if he was straining to hear something.

"Hear what?" You replied, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms against your chest.

"The cobwebs and tumbleweed living in your cunt."

"Jimin!" You shrieked, slapping the arm closest to you.

"Don't Jimin me! You know it's true, I swear you're gonna be a 40-year-old virgin, and by the time you finally make the decision to have sex, it'll be too late!" Jimin yelled, stumbling to stand up from the couch.

"First off, ouch. I won't be a 40-year-old virgin. That's very insulting. Second, I do plan to lose it soon. I just haven't found the time or the right guy." You said, looking down at your feet shyly. You did want to lose your virginity, but with being an introvert with a mix of social anxiety and just a dash of seasonal depression for added flavor. It was hard even to get out of bed sometimes. Much less going out and trying to find someone to do the do with.

"Oh! Well, if that's all, then I got you covered, babe. Time? Next week Friday at Jihyo's dorm. As for the right guy, I know a dude. He has like a kink for that kind of thing." Jimin answered nonchalantly, now scrolling through his phone, probably on his social media page.

You looked at Jimin, head tilted to the side, confused. "What kind of thing?"

"Oh, you know fucking virgins and shit. Popping their cherries." He said, popping his "P's."

You sputtered, exasperated. What the fuck. You didn't kink shame, that was for losers, but he can't seriously expect you to do something like that.

"What the actual fuck. Jimin, are you serious?"  

"Deadly." He said, looking you square in your eyes. His tone of voice haven dropped an octave lower.

"Jimin no. I-i can't."

"Jimin, yes! Err, I mean _____ yes, you can! Come on, it's a once in a lifetime experience. Plus, it's not like he's a total stranger. I've known him since he was 8 years old. I use to babysit the little shit head." Jimin said, waving his hand in the air, trying to swat away a rogue fly.

"Wow, Chim. You know, now that you put it like it makes me feel a lot better about the situation." You said tone dripped in sarcasm

"Really?" Jimin squealed, a delighted twinkling in his eye.

"Of course not! Don't be stupid!" Offended, you gawked at Jimin. You swear sometimes he could be so dimwitted.

"Come on, please? At least meet him, and if the vibe is not right, then you can leave no harm done." Jimin pleaded, his attention back on you. Was it crazy that you were actually thinking about agreeing to this? Jimin did have a point. It was sort of a once in a lifetime opportunity. He did know the guy, and if you didn't like the vibe, then you could just bounce, right? Right?

Sighing in defeat, your hands dragged down your face and turned towards a pouting Jimin. Grabbing at his deflated shoulders, you shook her lightly, and with urgency in your voice, you spoke, "Alright goddammit! I'll do it, but you have to stay by my side the whole time, no running off, you understand!" 

You watched Jimin's face quirk into a sly smirk. You swore you could see the cogs in his brain churning. Damn, you were going to regret this. You had the tendency to make deals when pressured. Most of the time, those agreements ended up backfiring on you, confining you in the proverbial rock and a hard place. 

"Yay! Operation: Pop _____ Cherry has commenced. Okay, so will meet at the auditorium on the art campus. From there we will walk to Jihyo's dorm, it's only five minutes. Promise me you'll actually show up and won't flake on me." A complacent expression rested arrogantly on Jimin's features, a single pinky finger extended towards you. 

"Don't give this situation a not-so-secret code name. And I can't believe I'm saying this but, I promise." You agreed, interlocking pinky fingers, yours thumbs coming up to press against one another.

"So I'll meet you at the location Friday, don't be late, and wear something sexy. No granny clothes." he chirped, making his way to your front door.

"Wait! You're leaving already?" you frowned, looking at the clock on your wall. He's only been here for an hour, and 30 mins of it were spent persuading you to hurry up and lose your virginity. You didn't even get to finish the movie together.

"Sorry babe, but I have a dick appointment." he shrugged, putting his arms through the sleeves of his jacket.

"Can you at least tell me the name of the guy who's supposed to fuck me?" you huffed, honestly you were done for tonight. As soon as Jimin left, you were heading straight for bed.

"Oh yeah, how could I forget." Jimin slaps the center of his forehead. "He's a real cutie. I would fuck him if he wasn't as straight as an arrow." Jimin looks off to a far wall, eyeing it with jealousy.

"Just tell me his name, please." You pleaded. Oh yeah, that's definitely a headache forming. You could feel it already. Jimin snaps out of his daydreaming and spins his body towards you.

"Jungkook."

Time skip to a week later, and precisely as you suspected, what a mistake that whole conversation was. Now here you were at this fucking dorm party with people you didn't know or care to get to know. Jimin had left you as soon as he saw his next piece of ass. Restlessly you hauled down the short black dress that insisted on riding up your ass, the soles of your feet protesting in the slim heeled shoes. Floundering your way into the packed building, you couldn't help but query where Jungkook was. Jimin was supposed to get around to send you a picture of the mystery man, but that never happened. Funny how now was the best time you decided to question why exactly Jimin was your best friend.

"Well damn, the pictures Jimin sent me doesn't do you justice at all. You're fucking hot." You recoiled from the closeness of the voice, the heated breath sending chills skittering down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck ramrod straight. Heat spurred to your face when you whisked around to meet an absolutely gorgeous guy. Like unfairly gorgeous guy. You stared wide-eyed, taking in his chiseled facial features, paired with wide doe eyes and bunny smile decorating his face. Somehow, someway he's mastered looked soft and sexy at the same damn time. And fuck was that a dangerous combination for your pussy. Your heart too, but more so your cunt.

"U-uh, thanks? Who are you exactly?" You watch as he recoils back from your with a look of apprehension on his face.

"A-are you not ____?" he stutters cutely. You think you can see the beginnings of a blush burning his cheeks. You nod your head once to confirm his question. He stared at you a minute longer before you see the recognition spark in his chocolate orbs.

"Jimin didn't send you my picture did he?" Shaking his head with his eyes close, you get the courage the scan his face a bit more. Yeah. He's definitely blushing.

"Sorry. I guess seeing you here, I thought Jimin would have...prepared you better." Shaking your head from side to side because your words refused to come out. You watched as he backed up a bit further from your personal space and thrust his right hand out to you. 

"The name's Jungkook, or J.K. Whatever suits your taste."

With clammy hands, you taking his outstretched hand marveled at how it almost covers your hand. Now that he's moved back from you, you now had to chance to see how tall he really was. Maybe about 6 to 7 inches taller. You look down at his feet and eye his combat boot, perhaps a little shorter but still taller. And big, yeah, definitely bigger. His oversized black jacket did little to hide the broadness of his shoulders and chest. You let your eyes travel down the length of his body. You bet he's hiding some killer abs under his shirt. And holy fuck, his thighs.

"You like what you see, baby girl?" Teasing, he's teasing but God, if his voice didn't make you pussy throbbing pathetically. Whimpering slightly, you let out a meek "Yes." God, you hope he didn't hear that.

Much to your dismay, he did, hear you. How he heard you with the music as loud as it was, was a mystery to you. But you watched his pupils dilate, and his nostrils flare slightly. Jungkook tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes rake up and down your scantily clad body. His heated stare scrutinized across your body, intrigue exerting over him, as he analyzed the way the snug-fitting dress molded to the curves of your shape. He could tell you didn't do this often. His dick twitched in his jeans with enthusiasm. 

It's the increase in pressure of your hand that makes you realize you're still holding his hand. You go to retract your hand from his. However, yelp shrilly as he tugs you closer to his body. Both hands now resting on his chest, and his wrapped around your waist. Fuck, you could feel the warmth and coarseness of his hands through your thin dress. A spontaneous tremor racked your body. The heat-transmitting from his frame mixed with the floral yet musky undertone of his cologne made you somewhat featherbrained.

"Fuck, you're so soft." You squeak as he squeezes your waistline, pulling you even closer against his body. You were now putty in his hands.

"Jimin told you my....preferences, right?" his voice caressed your ear. Just a slight movement or subtle twitch, and his lips would be on your skin.

"Y-yeah, he did." It should be an embarrassment how frail and breathless you sounded, but that didn't matter.

Jungkook hid his smile behind your ear. This was just too easy. Just how he liked it. He almost felt bad- almost. He was gonna ruin you utterly and completely, mold the shape of cock in the walls of your pussy. His name spilling from your lips, voice going hoarse by how loud he would make you scream. Fuck he couldn't wait. He's had virgin's before, a lot of them. That's his whole M.O. The cherry popper, virgin fucker, whatever. Jungkook's heard all the names in the book. But there's just something about you, you just had an air of genuine innocence, and he couldn't wait to defile it. 

Jungkook pulls his head back, enough to where his eyes can trail over the bared skin of your neck, and the sprinkling of perspiration sparkling off the bright strobing lights, no doubt from nervousness. His tongue traced over his thin upper lip, watching the droplets of sweat spiral down the curve of your neck. He wanted to taste you. 

"Alright, then." He jerks his body away from you. You're no longer touching his chest, but his hands are still on your waist. 

"Let's enjoy the party before the fun really begins. Every done body shots before?" Jungkook spoke casually, undeterred by the way you recoiled back or the look of stupor on your face.

"W-what? B-body shots, why?" you squeaked, failing to keep from stuttering over your words. Is this how it's supposed to go? Is this normal? You're bewildered, and just a bit perturbed. Were you just imagining that sexual tension that was going on just moments ago? For sure, you thought Jungkook was gonna throw you over his shoulders and haul you off to the nearest unoccupied bedroom or bathroom. At that instant, you didn't care. 

Jungkook regarded the war of emotions wage across your features, merriment and strobing lights twinkling in his eyes. Fuck, you were cute, so desperate staring up at him with a pout on your face a puppy dog eyes. He could honestly just take you back to the closest room and fuck the shit out of you. But he wanted to play with his prey, a bit more. The wait made it that much more satisfying.

"Don't pout too much, baby girl or I may not be able to contain myself. Follow me. The table is this way."

Jungkook didn't indulge in answering any of your questions you rambled off at him, delighted to see you trailing on his heels like a lost pup. Jungkook directed you further into the dorm, and like a dog on a leash, you followed. In the center of a sparse room sat a scraped up black table. You observed the area. It was devoid of many people. The several that were present made no recognition of your proximity in their intoxicated state.

"So who's first?" Jungkook asked, setting the bottle of tequila, rim salt, and limes down on the table.

"U-uh, I don't know. I guess it doesn't matter." You shrugged hesitantly. You were way out of your element here.

"Perfect then, you first." Jungkook should be ashamed by how excited he was at getting to sample your skin. It looked smooth, felt soft when he had you in his arms, and would no doubt probably taste as sweet as it seemed. You nodded in docility, wandering over to crawl on top of the table, being attentive to your dress. You lay flattened against the table, shiverings racking your body as he began pouring a trail of salt between your cleavage. 

He poured himself a shot in the depression of your throat and tore the lime in half with his bare hands. Smirking at how you flinched when he thumped the liquor bottle down beside your head. Jungkook pushed the other half of the unevenly split lime towards your lips, a silent gesture to take the lime in your mouth. Jungkook watched as your lips curled gently around the hull of the green citrus. A flare of lust stirred in his loins at the action. He couldn't wait to see your lips stretched around the head of his cock. He observed your eyes clamped closed as he began dropping his head forward to your chest. It was adorable and innocent. He noted the way your lips slackened around the citrus in your mouth, your chest heaving in speed, the closer his tongue trailed to your neck.

You tasted splendid, just as sweet as he thought. The salt on your skin did nothing to deter your natural flavor. If anything, it enhanced your sweetness, rendering your skin damn near mouth-watering. Jungkook's ears perked at the breathless moans slipping past the fruit perched against your lips, drawn out by the repeated pass of the wet, pink appendage lapping at the salt line between the valley of your breast. Committing your muffled moans to memory, he lapped persistently at the collection of salt and tequila in the hollow at the base of your neck.

You face flammed in embarrassment as panting moans effortlessly tumbled from your mouth. Who knew your chest and neck was such an erogenous spot. Despite your shame, you couldn't stop wriggling, shifting your thighs together for some form of friction to sate the rising arousal dampening your panties. You yelped at the sensation of blunt teeth nibbling at your skin before soft lips came to suck at the shallow indentations. Fluffy hair with an undercut came into your line of vision as Jungkook lifted his head up to your lips. Your heart stammered tortuously against your ribs, flirtatious eyes stared lidded with searing lust, his head advanced closer to your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips puckering against the bitter hull of the lime.

Jungkook closed the distance, slanting his mouth over the lime, blocking his contact with yours. He sucked against the sour fruit, acidity puckering his lips, residual tartness flowing to your cracked lips. Jungkook withdrew from your mouth, taking the drained lime hull with it. Your saccharine moans were heaven to his ears. It had awoken something inside him, fueled his fire in knowing that possibly no one had ever heard such a sweet sound. He wanted more, craved more. 

"Have you ever been kissed before, sweetheart?" Your eyes followed the movement of his tongue, poking out to moistening his lips. 

"Yeah, once in like 3rd grade." Who hasn't snuck behind a tree or hid underneath the dark coverings of playground equipment to lock lips with a childhood crush?

He grinned salaciously, body moving to rest between your spread legs. Oh, now he was really excited. Your lips were practically untouched. Just another part of your body to claim first. You jumped when palms pressed flat against the revealed skin of your thigh. Gently, Jungkook rubbed lazy circles on your skin, never lowering or furthering than the hem of your dress. He felt you wiggle beneath his hands, observed your eyes, glimpsing―darting about, should you concentrate on his face, or his hand, uncertainty was etched on your face.

"Amazing." He groaned, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, before grinning again. His face inched closer to yours, his lips but a breath apart, warmth flickered against your lips as he talked, level and smooth. " Well, how about I become your second?

And then his lips were on you, the soft muscle mangled itself to your lips, tentative and sluggish to give you a chance to register his mouth slanted upon yours. Jungkook chuckled against your lips at your unresponsiveness. He guesses you were a little shell shocked. It only takes a few more stagnant seconds before you're shyly reciprocating his kiss. Delicate, shaky movements highlighted your inexperience. Increasingly, Jungkook increased the pressure behind lips, his hands spreading to enclose around your waist, dragging you closer against him. One of Jungkook's hands removed from your waist to bury itself in your hair, gently his fingernails scratched against your scalp, an airy moan was his reward. 

Hands completely abandoning your midsection, one gripped the meat of your thigh, pulling you to the edge of the table, flush against the tent of his denim jean encased manhood, the other embedded in your strands pulled sharply on your roots, a loud gasp tearing from you. Jungkook took that opportunity to advance his tongue into your gaped mouth. His tongue wrapped itself around yours, briefly wrestling for dominance before easily pinning your tongue in submission. His hips ground against yours, the heat of your covered core teased him through his jeans. 

He thoroughly explored your mouth, swallowing the now copious cries leaving your mouth. Reluctantly, Jungkook tore himself from your kiss-swollen lips. The ravished looked suited you perfectly. You looked beautiful, thighs brazenly spread, eyes glazed over in lust, your sticky chest heaving from the length of the shared kiss. Even in the dim lights, he could make out the taunt pebbling of your nipples. 

Your mouth gaped wide, flapping about like a fish out of water, trying despairingly to draw air into your lungs. Your first kiss definitely didn't compare to this much. Your wide eyes flicked between Jungkook and the floor, your bottom lip tucked firmly between your teeth, feeling shy as he just stares at you. Releasing your teeth from your lips, you timidly touched your mouth, admiring how plump they've gotten from the intense liplock.

Wordlessly Jungkook hitched you over his shoulder, winded with a grunt as his defined shoulder blades dug into your stomach and what sounded like a growled vibrate up into you. You squirmed lightly in his hold, scared he was going to drop you, and secondly, your panty-clad ass on display for the party-goers, not that anyone was looking. 

You watched the continuous panels of hardwood floor move beneath you as Jungkook carried you to an unknown destination. You couldn't believe you were really doing this. Were you actually going to have sex with a complete stranger? Someone who was known for explicitly fucking virgins. Realistically, you should be ashamed, yet, you conceded full control to him without a second thought. What did that say about you? About your character? Would you now be labeled as 'easy' or a 'hoe' after all this was done? What was going to happen between you and Jungkook? 

The flick of a switch stirred from your thoughts. You shield your eyes with your hand at the bright lights pouring into the room, or rather a bathroom. Jungkook loved the confusion marring your features. He wouldn't fuck you in his bedroom just yet. That was a privilege you would have to earn, no matter how intrigued he had become with you. There's always humiliation to be had in the corruption of innocence, and fucking you in the bathroom was a good start. He planned on making you watch him as he destroyed your body, popping your cherry, stretching your tight virginal hole to accommodate his length, and claimed it as his own. Jungkook shuddered at the thought, his possessive nature taking a turn for the worst. 

Impatiently Jungkook sat you on top of the bathroom sink counter, his lips smashed against yours, the previous tenderness was gone, vanished into a puff of smoke. Teeth banged, and tongues flailed recklessly against each other in the heat of passion, with you struggling to keep up with the demands of his dominating kiss. Thick fingers trailed beneath the hem of your dress, tickling the expanse of your thighs. Jungkook wasted no time in shifting your slick soaked panties to the side, a warm digit gliding effortlessly through your damn folds.

"Fuck, you're already so wet. You're enjoying this a little too much, baby girl." Jungkook growled, panting against your lips. His finger breached your sex, you tensed deftly around the foreigner intrusion, stretching your weeping walls. 

"Ah, Jungkook." You cried listlessly, rocking your hips against his stilled finger. He felt so good inside you, and it was just his finger. Maybe this experience wouldn't be as bad as you heard. Now you couldn't wait to see what his cock felt like embedded deep within your pussy. Jungkook pumped slowly, eventually introducing a second finger to help loosen you up more. You were gonna be a tight fit, very tight, but that just made it even better. You hissed at the slight burn as he began scissoring his fingers apart with each withdrawal. Your hands wrapped around his neck as you buried your head against his broad chest, your mellifluous moans suppressed by the fabric of his shirt. 

"G-go faster, please." You begged, your body adjusting and quickly becoming frustrated by the snail's pace his fingers were pumping. You bucked your hips against his hands, hoping he would ease the growing discomfort boiling in your stomach. 

"Have you ever had an orgasm before, babe?" You nodded eagerly at his question, whining as you bucked against his hand again.

"Oh, really? Who gave it to you." Slow, he was going too slow you wanted, no you needed more friction, more stimulation from him.

"M-me. I-i did." Jungkook loved how you stuttered, it stroked his ego and filled him with arrogance to know it was him, and only that was capable of making you stumble over your words.

"Mmm, and how did you do it? Did you rub this little clit of yours raw?" You cried louder when his thumb flicked at your clit, the stimulation further drawing the appendage from its hood.

"Or did you fuck this tight hole, with these tiny fingers of yours?" At those words, a loud, choked moan, even muffled by your face in his chest, echoed throughout the white bathroom. Jungkook had gone deeper inside, almost to the third knuckle. Another moan left your lips as he twisted his fingers inside you, his palm now facing upwards.

"Though you and I bought know they couldn't possibly reach deep enough to touch the spot you really want." It's euphoric, no better yet orgasmic, the sheer shock of electric pleasure that zaps through your body when he finds the spongy bundle of nerves. Your body jerked heavily, legs go to snap close, only to be stopped by his broad body between your thighs.

He chuckles softly, stroking your thigh with his other hand. Jungkook shifts his head down, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. He exhales quietly, warm air tinged with tequila and lime caresses the light hairs on you around your ear. " I found it, huh?"

You whimper, rubbing your head up and down against his chest.

"You want me to speed up the pace, sweetheart?" Jungkook's voice is delicate now, so gentle. But you're confused, overwhelmed, and scared. It's never felt like this when you did it yourself. Your not sure if you could handle the feeling, so you don't provide an answer to Jungkook's question.

"Don't ignore me ____, that's not nice manners. I'll ask again." You clench around his fingers as Jungkook inches just a bit deeper. 

"Do you. Want me. To go faster?" With each pause, he arches his fingers in a 'come here' motion, pressing deeply against your bundle of nerves, the sensation of having to pee accompanied with each thrust.

 "Y-yes, faster, more. Pl-lease." Fuck, you sounded so pretty begging for him if he wasn't addicted before. You had him sprung now. Jungkook buried his face in the crook of your neck, the sharp smell of tequila and salt still lingering on your skin. He sucked at the junction where your shoulder and neck met. You bucked harder against his fingers, your juices now dripping to coat his palm is sticky cream.

"If you wanted more. Why didn't you just ask?" Jungkook said deviously. Confused, you felt withdraw his sticky digits, walls gripping to stop their departure. Without warning, Jungkook flipped you over onto the counter, your knees buckled at the sudden change in position. Your faced burning at your displayed state, droplets of your essence dribbled from your pussy, slicking up your inner thighs. You yelped as Jungkook grasped at the length of your hair, pulling back pointedly, your neck craned back to observe him addressing you in the mirror.

"You've been wondrous for me ____. Such a sweet girl." He expressed, his empty hand disappearing behind your perked ass to fiddle with the groin of his pants. 

"Truly, you have. Your response and reactions to my touch have really gotten me riled up. It's been a while since I've tittered on the edge of losing control." You wheezed, starting to panic as you felt the thick head of his cock slap teasingly against your slicked throbbing hole. Oh, God, he's huge. Jungkook's cock might just tear you apart. You shifted your hips forward, pressing against the cold marble of the bathroom counters door.

"I-i don't think, I can t-take it Jungkook, you're too b-big. It's my first-time, r-remember?” Your stuttering worse now, but you're scared.

Jungkook pulls your hips back with the hand the was grasping his length, the side of your hip now coated in his pre-cum. His hand lays flat in the crease of your back, forcing you into a perfect arch. 

"You can take it, all of it. And don't worry, of course, I remembered your fragility. I'll go slow, I promise." You plead silently with your eye contact through the mirror. 

"You ready?" You nod once an advert your eyes down to the sink.

Your mouth shakily falls agape as he slowly began pushing the head of his cock into you. It burns, but not as bad as you had anticipated. You take the chance to look back up into the mirror, adamant about giving Jungkook a thankful smile for his gentleness. That vision that greets looks like it jumped right off the page of your favorite erotic story. 

Jungkook's got his head thrown back, the edge of his t-shirt clenched tightly between his teeth, your eyes trail the drip of sweat that follows the curve of his jawline. You have a clear view of his abs all the way down to the v-cut of his hip, to the happy trail that leads to a neatly trimmed bush of pubic hair. You clench tightly around him, efficiently aroused by the view. You feel his cock throbbed heavily inside you, even getting bigger if possible.

"You like that, sweet girl? You like seeing me struggling to contain myself because you're so tightly around me. This little pussy trying to milk me for all I can give you." You love it. You feel powerful in a way. Do you really feel that good around him?

"Yes." Jungkook draws out the 'S.' 

"You feel amazing, so warm and wet. I wished you could see how coated in white you've got me, and I'm not even all the way in yet."

You scream soundless as he bucks into you, shoving in half of his length. It doesn't hurt anymore. You just feel stuffed full. Lifting a trembling hand, you take the chance a feel the lower part. You noticed swelling that wasn't there before, intrigued; you push down against it, moaning in shock you realize it's Jungkook's cock. 

"Yeah, baby girl, that's all me, well, most of me. You ready to take the rest?"

"Yes! Please!" That's the clearest you've been all night. You don't get an answer as Jungkook immediately picks up his pacing, thrusting into you faster. He wastes no time pumping deeply into your tight pussy, his tip smashing against the entrance to your cervix as you pant and grit your teeth in slight discomfort, overshadowed by pleasure. The burning sensation is back as he fucks in deeper with each brutal and swift stroke. But you don't care cause it still feels amazing. You can hear yourself, sloppy and soaking wet, echoing throughout the bathroom. You're drooling down his pistoning cock. You can feel it dripping down your inner thighs. Your head jerks violently against your shoulders, to weak support your head from his menacing thrust. 

Tightened vocal cords released strained shrieks of praise; from your mouth, drool dripping from your lips, into the sticky cleavage of your breast, and sweat coated your skin. The coil in your stomach was quickly tightening, never had you felt anything so deep inside you. If you ever had sex with anyone else, they would never compare to Jungkook.  You were fucked both figuratively and literally.

Jungkook pulled you further from off the sink, the new position allowing him even deeper. You clawed at the marble tops underneath your fingers, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. That sensation of having to pee is back again.

"J-K, I-m. I have to-," You don't get to finish as the band in your stomach snapped. Silently you announced your release; if it wasn't for the new wave of cum coating his cock, or the fluttering tightness of your walls, Jungkook might have missed your orgasm. He wasn't far behind you. The constant clenching of your ridged walls around his cock, had him reaching his limit sooner than he would like. Jungkook had half a mind to pull out but decided to gamble his odds. You're the first person he's fucked raw in a while, and with three deep thrusts later, he was shooting his hot seed right against your cervix. 

Breathing heavily, Jungkook lets you fall against the sink, observing as you crumpled against the sink countertop. Pride swelled his chest as he watched his seed bubble out of your well-used hole. He's never contemplated going farther with the virgins he fucked. He wouldn't make any hasty decisions now though there were still a lot of things he wanted to do with you. He would sleep on it and revisit the idea in the morning.

"So would you say, Operation: Pop Your Cherry was a success?"

You giggled, winded, still having difficulty catching your breath. You straighten up against the bathroom counter, the majority of your weight still resting on the object as you had yet to regain the feeling in your legs.

"Jimin and his stupid code names. I swear when I get a hold ass, he's dead." You warned already preparing your revenge on your best friend. You stare at Jungkook in the eyes through the mirror, smile a bit goofy, you say.

"Operation: Pop My Cherry. Mission complete."

[punkcupcakestyles]

Love Song

Part 16

Catch up!

In which one of them says the “L” word.

TW: Hi, this chapter contains references to DV. If you don’t feel like reading it, that's fine, your wellbeing is a priority. However, if you would like to read some of this new chapter, you can skip it, as references are only made in the first part directly under the “read more”, which is marked with a ++++ for you. Once that bracket ends, it is TW-free. 

****

Are Harry Styles and Sofia Welsh a thing?

Surely, you must be asking this yourself…

++++

Harry was still asleep when I woke up. He was sleeping on his belly, with his back turned to me, and I scooted closer to him, brushing my fingers over the light red marks I had left on his skin. So, last night had happened, and those marks were there to prove it. 

I laid on my back and stared at the ceiling, trying to come up with all of the ways I was different that morning. We had sex, which was new, and then took a shower together and fell asleep in the middle of kisses and giddy laughs, which wasn’t so new. My body was the same, except for the slight pain on one side of my hips, and the ticklish memory of Harry’s lips on my skin. My mind was fluttery and anxious, but that wasn’t Harry’s fault.

It was mine.

One thing was different: Harry knew.

What had happened last night? I was desperate for Harry to stay. I felt like my heart would break irreparably if he walked away. A desperate, exaggerated feeling, no doubt, but it felt so real at that moment, so overwhelmingly true, that nothing else mattered. So I told him about my mom and my aunt, about my family. I had told him I needed a hiding place…

What comes next?

Harry rustled in his sleep and I found myself holding my breath before I could even realize, watching as he turned to lie on his back. It seemed like he was going to wake up at any minute now, and I still hadn’t chosen the feeling I should focus on. 

On one hand, I felt excited and giddy, the memory of the previous night vividly replaying in my mind. Last night, he was mine, he had stayed and I had slept in his arms; I also felt guilty and ashamed, tied up to a story I hadn’t chosen for myself. 

If I closed my eyes, I could see him, moving in all of his fury. I could hear the screams and the lies. I could never shake away the feeling that it was all my fault. I should have done something earlier. 

“Fuck,” I moaned, already feeling the ghosts as they circled me. I could see him, blazing up like a pure fire that wanted to burn everything that it could find. I could see her, making herself small, waiting for whatever was coming her way. Neither of them could see me. 

“Sof?” I heard Harry’s voice, but it sounded far away, more like a whisper making its way through a tangle of darkness. If I searched for it, if I reached for it…Harry looped one arm around my waist, and he must have thought that I was having a nightmare, cause he let his body wrap around mine to keep me warm and close. Safe. “It’s ok,” he whispered and I could hear his voice clearer now, even if it was sleepy. “I’m here, baby.”

I think he did it out of reflex, because his eyelids were still heavy with sleep, struggling to open, even when it was still dark around us. I quickly turned around, burying my face onto the crook of his neck and smiling when his hug became tighter and his fingers tangled in my knotty hair. 

He still smelled fresh from the shower and his skin was cold to the touch, so I sighed as I kissed his shoulder and neck, and I felt comfort when his lips met mine in a lazy, soft kiss.  

“Were you having a bad dream?” He asked, once sleep had faded away. I could see the outline of his face and could feel the touch of his fingers as he brushed them up my waist and to my back. It was soothing, but the ache was still there, bringing me down and suffocating me. 

“No,” I said with a raspy voice that I could barely recognize as mine. I cleared my throat and blinked away the tears that were brimming my eyes so he wouldn’t notice them. “I was awake. Sorry for waking you up.”

“It’s ok.” I could hear the smile in his voice, which was tinted with a sweet hint that settled underneath my skin and made me feel warm, my own heart forgetting about rhythm and beating. “Are you ok?”

“Now that you’re awake, I am.”

“Good, baby. I’m here for you,” Harry whispered. He brushed his lips over my forehead and pressed a soft kiss there, one that told me more than words could. “Wanna tell me what happened? You were so tense.”

“H..." I hesitated. How did I explain it to him? How did I tell him what I had done? That I didn't regret it? “Do you really want to know?” I asked him. I pushed myself away from him, rolling away from his arms to sit on the bed. He did the same, sitting by my side as he propped himself up on the pillows. This wasn’t how I imagined the morning after, and I bet it wasn’t like he had imagined it either.

“Yes!” He said, which was exactly the answer I was dreading. “You don’t have to, Sof, but you can always tell me if something’s upsetting you.”

“I...I didn’t want you to go yesterday. I wanted you to stay,” I said, trying to earn myself some time to articulate my thoughts. “So I told you some things that I’ve never said to anyone before. And I’m feeling guilty and afraid of what you might think.”

“Ok,” he said, which was not nearly enough, but it prompted me to continue. 

“And I feel the desperate need to tell you that my dad wasn’t always bad, that I had a pony, and on Fridays, I could eat way too much sugar. I don’t want you to think…” I stopped because I needed to gulp back my tears. My mom and I, we’re strong people.”

“I know.”

“And I don’t want you to think any different about me.”

“Why would I, Sof?” Why would he? Because I kept telling myself that I did what I had to do, but I’m lying. At that moment, all I felt was rage, not survival. I wanted to hurt him, make him suffer for what he had done, even if just a bit. I wanted to kill him. But I didn’t. “C’mere,” Harry said, and his fingers found mine and squeezed them lightly as he laced them together. So I obeyed and breathed him in as he pulled me into a tight hug. “You’re safe, I promise.”

“I know.”

“Good,” he breathed and his body noticeably relaxed, even though I don’t think either of us even had realized he was holding his breath in. 

If anything, it made the butterflies in my tummy rise and flutter. 

****

Kacey Musgraves and Harry Styles reunited yesterday, on the last date of her Oh, What a World: Tour II, to sing “Space Cowboy” from her hit album Golden Hour. The heartfelt performance was received with cheers from the audience. At the end of the song, Styles praised her former tour partner, calling her one of his favorites. It was a breathtaking moment.

Eagle-eyed fans, however, also noticed a special guest that was not announced, and that tried to blend in with the crowd: Styles’ on-and-off rumored girlfriend Sofia Welsh-De la Rosa was seen in the crowd during the duet performance, along with her agent and some friends. Does this mean a confirmation of the romance? Not quite, as she stayed to enjoy the concert even after he left the stage and was nowhere to be seen during the closing party. Was it just a coincidence? Is Welsh a stalker? Fans have been weighing in on Twitter, but the question remains: If Sofia Welsh gets ghosted, what hope do I have? Below you’ll find some of the most relatable comments…

****

It all started innocently, sitting next to him on the couch to cuddle while he reviewed the plan for his next single. It was all laid out in an e-mail, with wardrobe ideas and stage mockups. A glimpse of his screen was enough to catch my attention, as I saw what looked like a fisherman island and a couple of lively-looking fishes. 

“What’s the song about?” I asked him, peering up at him as my head rested on his shoulder. I had to ask, there were fish involved!

“Well...you. It’s about you.” Harry smiled and I saw him blush a little while he avoided looking me in the eyes.

“No, really, tell me!”

“It’s about you, Sof. What makes you think I’m joking?”

“Why would you write a song about me? Is it about how annoying I am?” I grinned and I propped myself up with one hand, so I could look him in the eyes while we talked. It was funny, ‘cause I knew about the song, he had told me the night of our date, which seemed like ages ago. But now, my brain was going into overdrive, and I stared at him as he leaned closer and let his lips brush over a kiss over my forehead. 

“It’s about how much I like you,” he said, and this time, he met my eyes while I stared at him stupidly. 

“Is that the surprise you told me about? I would’ve thought you had pulled it from the album after everything that’s happened these last few weeks.”

“I did try, but Jeff told me to go fuck myself.” I didn’t know if he was joking. The quick smile on his lips disappeared as Harry looked at me. “And I wrote them for you, it’s only fair you get to listen to them.”

“Can I? Listen to it, I mean...” 

“As long as you don’t tell Jeff to pull it from the album, I think we can do that.”

“I promise I won’t.”

The few seconds he took to look for the song seemed like an eternity, that I spent with my heart pounding in my ears and my eyes fixed on his phone screen. There were tons of songs there, and while some had a proper title, most were named with just a word or a date. I watched him go to a list called FL, and there, he scrolled down to the bottom, before pressing play on a song named “Adore You”. 

As the first few notes started to play, I went quiet and let Harry pull me into a cuddle. Once again, I was lying next to him, with my head resting on his chest, and I could feel the steadiness of his heart, and the warm touch of his fingers as they pressed to my waist. 

“Walk in your rainbow paradise…”

His voice was rich and soothing and it made my heartache in a way I didn’t know it was capable of. I listened to it, focusing on the words and the melody. I wanted to decipher every bit of it, every intention, every hint, tear it apart, and build it up again second by second. 

Harry was smiling when I looked at him, almost shyly and apologetically, like telling me how sorry he was for putting me in the spotlight. 

But I loved it. 

“Play it again”, I whispered when the song came to an end, as I looked up at him. Harry smiled in satisfaction, a little cocky grin, as he put the song on repeat. He then shifted on the couch, sitting up so I could straddle him. His hands went to my back and held my waist as mine looped around his shoulders.

“Did you like it?” Harry managed to ask between my kisses, lips pressing softly to his own, his cheek, his jaw, his nose. 

“I did. I loved it,” I giggled as I looked for his neck to kiss him there. I wondered how many times we would listen to the song before I was satisfied. Many, I had to guess. 

“Good…” Harry smiled and broke the kiss apart to look at me in the eyes. “I love you, Sof.”

I froze, stopping my frantic mission to kiss every available inch of his body, and I slowly brought my hands to my lap, as I looked at him, forgetting how to breathe. 

“You don’t have to say it back,” Harry breathed with a light laugh. “I know you have feelings for Sam, so it’s ok if you have to think about it. I just wanted to let you know… I’m yours if you want me, Sof....and even if you don’t.”

“What…” I started, but words kept failing to form in my lips, just as much as they failed to organize coherently in my brain. There was so much I wanted to say, many things I could tell him, but instead, I pressed myself to him, hugging him tight to my body until our breaths mixed, and it wasn’t too clear whose heartbeat was louder. 

“It’s ok. It’s ok, Sof, you don’t have to say anything,” Harry whispered reassuringly, so I did the only thing I knew I could do, I kissed him. 

Right then, it was easy to see how everything had changed from the night before, or even a few minutes ago. Now his touch felt different, filled with the memories of the night before. He knew my body better than I did. It was his to explore, to taste, and touch, and he did so. Everything, including the kiss, was slow but intense, soft and sweet but so fucking hungry.  

“I love you, Sof.” I kept replaying it in my mind, with all of its letters, one by one. Like a gospel, a moment of prayer to calm the soul. 

Harry made his way down to my collarbones, and he trailed his kisses down to the valley of my chest, where he stopped, and let his fingers curl around the cups of my bra to push it down. The warmth on his breath rose goosebumps all over my skin and I moaned quietly as he wrapped his lips around my nipple and sucked on it. It felt so good, but still, anticipation was boiling in my tummy, demanding more. I wanted to feel his tongue, his warm breath, the drowned moans. I wanted them to echo down my body until I had no more choice but to cry out in pleasure. It was a delicious, bubbly feeling that clouded my mind, only leaving space for Harry.

I was so sensitive, all raw skin and prickly nerves, the slightest touch sent a shiver up my spine and made me arch my back and moan.

I was too aware of the light touch of his hand brushing down my stomach and sliding underneath my panties. I could see a flash of a smile before he went to pay attention to my other nipple, sucking harder on it as he grazed his finger around my clit. 

“Fuck,” I moaned, trying to relax as the sharp pain of my soreness took over my senses for just a second. But it didn’t escape Harry, who stopped right away to look at me with a worried glint in his eyes. 

“Are you sore, Sof?” He asked, and to my despair he pulled his hand away, placing it on my leg instead with a light squeeze. 

“A bit,” I said, almost apologetically. “But we can still do it.”

“It’s ok,” Harry smiled. “There’s no rush. We can just kiss.”

“We’re going back to L.A. tomorrow, and you’ll be off to London by the end of the week, so at least I’m in a rush. I’ve already wasted a lot of time.”

“So, what are you suggesting? That we should fuck non-stop now?”

“Yes!!” I laughed. “You should fuck me.”

“I want you to enjoy it,” Harry said and he hugged me closer to his chest. The sentiment was appreciated and I had no doubt he actually meant it, but that didn’t mean I had to make it easy for him. His tummy tightened as my fingers brushed over his tanned skin, the slight swell of his pecs, the muscles on his abs, and a low moan escaped his reluctant lips as I shifted on his lap, and rolled my hips for him. He was getting hard, maybe because of all of the feverish kisses we had shared, and I felt the sharp bite of his nails as they dug on the round of my ass. “So it feels good for you. It kinda hurts my ego if you don’t.” he smiled. His hands pressed tightly to my hips, stopping me from making any movement. “And I owe you one from last night.”

“I enjoyed last night, it was perfect.”

“Really?” Harry asked, his smiling lighting up his cute face when he looked at me. “I always thought our first time was gonna be fucking special, like a hotel in Paris looking at the tower, or something like that.”

“You thought about our first time?”

“I did, it got me through the nights,” he said. His touch had no urgency other than to feel me close and feel the warmth of my skin under the tips of his fingers. 

“Good to know I’m on your mind, then.”

“All the fucking time, didn’t you listen to the song?”

So engulfed we were in each other that we had missed the sound of the door opening or that of the soft steps that followed it.

“H, why did you change rooms? Listen, man, if I have to listen to Diana nag me because of you...oh, fuck! I’m sorry,” a male voice exclaimed, going from very confused and slightly annoyed to sincerely apologetic. I scrambled to the couch to cover myself with the pillows, while Harry remained seated, calmly looking at his friend. 

Jeff was holding what seemed like a bakery paper bag, and 4 tall coffees. He set them down on the little table in front of the couch and cleared his throat while he clearly avoided looking at me. Without saying a word, Harry stood up and walked to the room, and came back after he had dressed, and holding a shirt he offered to me. It only took him seconds, but it felt like an eternity, and Jeff and I were awkward enough to make it evident. 

“I thought you had left for L.A., Sof. Diana told me you did,” Jeff said, now that I had put on the shirt, and he was free to look at me. He sat down on one corner of the couch and picked up Harry’s phone to stop the music. The room felt too silent without it.

“I decided not to go.”

“Good,” he smiled. Both of us were looking at Harry, as he smiled at me. He was our only connection, after all, and I had a nagging feeling that Jeff did not like me all that much. “Does Diana know?”

“That I stayed?”

“With Harry, yeah,” Jeff pressed.

“I haven’t told her, no.”

“Ok, we might want to do that,” he smiled too kindly. I would have felt overwhelmed by the, how does the song go? Oh, yes, bad moon a-rising feeling of his words, but at that moment, Jeff leaned over the table and started fixing breakfast in front of us: buttery and flaky croissants, little pastries filled with chocolate and raspberries, cinnamon swirls and avocado and eggs toast. The sugary and buttery smell took over my well-intentioned anxiety. It kept me on top of things most of the time, never too surprised when things went wrong. 

“How many people did you invite for breakfast?” I asked him. 

“Well, Diana is coming. Yesterday she told me you were leaving and that you guys were probably moving on, so I told her to meet me this morning.”

“Moving on from what?” Harry asked his friend as he picked two croissants and offered me one. Mine had red stripes, so I guessed it must’ve had some kind of strawberry or raspberry filling. He picked a chocolate one for himself and set it apart on the table, grabbing a cup of coffee first. 

“I’m gonna take a wild guess, and say you, they’re moving on from you.”

The croissant was still warm and I held it in my hand like it was a war grenade, ready to blow off. Could I eat it? The short answer was no. The long answer was more complicated than that, but it also ended in a no. My tummy grumbled, it had been long since the last time I had really eaten or felt hungry, so it took me a couple of seconds to realize what was going on around me, like the fact that both Harry and Jeff were looking at me as if I was fucking crazy. Perhaps I was. 

“Are you having a meltdown over a croissant?” Harry asked, and the mocking hint that laced in his voice stung. Oh, he didn’t understand. 

“I’m on a diet, and I need to be because otherwise, they might not give me the role.”

“They already did, that’s why you’re training like a crazy person.”

“They can still say that I don’t look good in a latex suit, because who fucking does? And take the role away from me,” I tried explaining, as I leaned over the table to put the croissant down and pick a black coffee.

“They won’t,” Harry said as he picked it up back again and offered it to me. “I promise. You’re the queen right now, and everyone’s in love with you. And if they choose to take the role away from you, they’re assholes anyway,” he continued, with a sweet smile on his face. I took the napkin and leaned back on the couch as I took a bite out of the croissant.

“Good,” Jeff exclaimed, reminding us that we were not alone in the room. “Now, do we talk about Sofia wanting to move on, or do we just ignore it?”

“I, uh, I don’t want to move on.”

“Ok, so I’ll talk to Diana,” Jeff nodded. “I’ll do it soon, so you guys don’t have time to change your fucking minds.”

“Thanks, Jeff,” I smiled at him. He didn’t like me, oh, not at all, but he wasn’t doing it for me. So he shrugged, and took a pastry for himself, to eat it with his coffee. 

Maybe we had said Diana’s name too many times, because there she was, closing the door behind her. She couldn’t see me, but I saw her, with her green dress with white flowers on. She was holding a plastic bowl of fruit and a holder with 3 tall coffees and she walked into the room and towards us without noticing me. When she did, a frown etched between her brows, and her eyes danced from Harry to me.

“You didn’t leave. Good, we need to talk.” Diana said as if nothing could surprise her anymore. She walked to me and picked up the piece of croissants I had left in my hands and put them down on the table, before she sat down next to Jeff, with a bright, satisfied smile on her face. “You can’t eat that. Actually, we might need to go even more strict. Dior wants you for their new campaign and Rihanna is wondering if you’d like to model some underwear. I said yes to both.” She waited for the ovation. I could see that she was holding herself from clapping in excitement. But we all remained silent, and she slowly calmed herself down, looking at me as if I was the one that didn’t understand, which was a fair assumption; I didn’t understand. 

“It means people know you can sell, Sof. We can ask for more money. We can ask you to be one of the top earners in the Marvel Universe. The top earner in every other movie you make,” she said, giddily. “Now, Dior wants you to shoot their campaign with one of their most iconic dresses. It’s a size zero, and they’ll stretch it to a size two, a tight one. So, we need to cut down a bit.”

A bit. 

“Why don’t they just stretch it a little more?” Harry asked. 

“Because it’s an iconic dress, I just said it, Harry,” Diana snapped. 

“That’s bullshit, Diana,” Harry said, and even though he was smiling, there was a hint of anger in his voice. He was annoyed and he didn’t feel like hiding it. 

“Oh, you think you know what us women…”

I couldn’t take it. I knew I should have said something, perhaps side with Harry and tell Diana that I wasn’t interested, but it was all too much. So I did what I know how to do best: I got up and left, walking to my room to hide from both of them and closing the door behind me. I sat on the corner of the bed and let out a shaky sigh. I wasn’t alone for too long. Harry entered the room and he cautiously walked to me and sat down by my side. The bed wobbled a little and I looked at him for a second before going back to look down to the floor.  

“Are you ok, love?” He asked. 

“I just started having sex,” I said. 

“I am aware,” he replied. 

“So, all of this talk about my body...it fucking sucks, especially because you’re there and you can listen to all of it, and…”

“And what?”

“Realize I don’t look good in a catsuit.”

“Do you want to see me in a catsuit? I don’t think I’d look good either,” He offered, and I laughed, despite everything, because that was the thing about Harry, he made everything better. 

“Would you put on a catsuit for me?” 

“I’d do anything for you, Sof...Come with me to London, let’s forget about this whole thing.”

“I can’t, H. I have to train and follow this diet, and be camera ready.”

“I promise I’ll keep you busy,” he said.

“Yeah? How?”

He did exactly what I expected him to do, he kissed me, his fingers pressing softly to the back of my neck, while his tongue swept my bottom lip. It was a lavish kiss, slow and intense. It made me forget that there were people in the other room, and to shift on the bed until I was sitting on his lap, with my legs on each side of his body. His hands started their journey on the upper part of my back, under my shirt, and he ran the tip of his fingers down the length of my spine. Every inch of skin he touched set on fire and reminded me how alive I was and all that I was capable of feeling because of him. 

“Please,” I muttered against his lips as his fingers got to the round of my ass, and he dug them and kneaded on my skin. 

“Please what?” He smiled. 

“Please whatever you want…”

“You need me, baby?”

“I need you, I want you…”

“Can you be quiet for me?” 

“Yes, I can try. Please.”

****

The plot thickens: Harry Styles and Sofia Welsh were seen leaving his hotel in Nashville together, where the singer was staying after he performed in Kacey Musgraves’ concert. The stars, who haven’t confirmed the status of their relationship, went out to grab lunch with a group of friends, including Musgraves herself, and then left for the airport together. 

This outing comes as a disappointment for Logan Lerman fans, who have started shipping him with the actress, as they are both set to work together in Amazon’s new show...

[morganaspendragonss]

someday, i’ll breathe again

prompted by @mimierose, idea by @theworld-is-out-there. thanks guys, so sorry it took me so long to write! i hope you both like it!

A shout from above grabs their attention, followed by the pounding of feet coming down the stairs towards them. TK’s able to shove Mateo out of the way, but the guy forcefully collides with him as he goes past, his momentum knocking TK off balance and sending him tumbling down the stairs to the landing below.

He lands hard, stars exploding in his vision, the pain in his head masking the sharp sting in his arm.

ao3 | 2.1k | warning for references to needles and past addiction - this is not a relapse fic

The ambulance arrives at the scene just behind the truck, and TK grins when he climbs out, spotting Carlos already deep in conversation with his dad. Nancy hits him as she walks past, any initial reservations she’d had about him joining their team long since forgotten.

“Head out of the bedroom, Strand,” she says, rolling her eyes at his show of offence. 

“I’ll have you know my head wasn’t even close to the bedroom,” he protests, following her to the back of the ambulance. It’s not even a lie; he’d actually just been thinking about how much he was looking forward to their movie night later. They haven’t spent much time together properly in a while, shifts rarely lining up, both of them too tired to do much more than sleep when they do.

Becoming a paramedic has meant that some of the danger has gone out of TK’s job, but the workload has increased more than he realised it would. Medical get far more calls than fire in a day, and much as TK loves it, he can’t deny the bone-deep exhaustion at the end of most shifts.

He wouldn’t trade it, though, not for the world.

Nancy sends him a withering look, but she doesn’t get a chance to respond before Tommy’s striding back over to them, having consulted with his dad.

“What are we looking at, Cap?” he asks.

“PD needs some help clearing the building,” she responds. “It’s due to be demolished in a couple of weeks, but there have been some reports of squatters, gangs, local kids, hanging around. They want to make sure everyone’s out, and they want medical on standby just in case. Ordinarily, we’d wait out here, as you know, but Captain Strand and I have agreed that it would be more efficient and useful to have you inside. There might be people in there who don’t have the time to wait to be carried out.”

TK grimaces, hearing Tommy’s implications loud and clear. Her gaze flicks over to him, but she doesn’t comment, and TK tries to pull himself together as she continues laying out the plan.

“We’ll be going in in teams of three - two firefighters, one paramedic. TK, you’re with Judd and Mateo; Nancy, you’re with Marjan and Paul. Captain Strand and I will be waiting out here - keep us updated.”

“Yes, Cap.”

He and Nancy nod, turning to gather supplies into their medical bags. They work silently and efficiently; TK had been surprised by how easy it was to fall into a natural rhythm with his new team, but it feels normal now, like he’s been doing it forever.

Tommy takes his arm before they join the others, pulling him to one side. “You good to do this, Strand?” she asks, voice firm but caring. TK appreciates the thought - he’d told her about his history during his interview in case she wanted to think twice about hiring him - but he knows that he can do this.

He nods, adjusting the strap on his bag. “Yes. I’m good, Cap.”

She smiles. “Good. Now, go, and both of you be safe.”

TK jogs over to the others, arriving just in time to hear Nancy bemoaning him and his distinct lack of driving skill to Marjan.

“That’s so rude, Gillian,” he protests. “I’ll have you know I used to navigate New York traffic and never once got in an accident.”

“And yet you can’t take the ambulance more than five yards without threatening to crash it.”

“I’m surprised he can get it that far,” Judd puts in, which TK thinks is wholly unnecessary. It’s not his fault that the firetruck is totally unmaneuverable, or that the ambulance is only barely better. 

He opens his mouth to tell Judd this, but his dad chooses this moment to call them to attention, so he’s forced to settle for a glare directed at the back of Judd’s head.

“You’ll take alternating floors,” Owen tells them. “Judd, Mateo, TK - start on the ground, work your way up through the even numbered levels. Paul, Marjan, Nancy - the same, starting on one and doing the odd floors. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Cap.”

“Good.” Owen looks round at them all, eyes seeming to linger on TK for the briefest second longer. “The structure seems stable, but stay alert. We don’t know what you’re gonna find in there, and I’d like to avoid any injuries. Police will be around for back up if you need them. Good luck.”

They spring into action, heading towards the building as a unit, and TK has to admit that he’s missed this. Doing rescues with the team, adrenaline pumping through his veins, never quite sure what’s going to happen from one moment to the next. 

He sticks to the back of their little group, letting Judd and Mateo go ahead of him as they sweep the ground floor. There’s no-one there so they move onto the next level, TK’s nose wrinkling as the smell gets worse the higher up they go. They work without speaking, for the most part, though judging by the numerous backward glances Mateo keeps sending him, TK suspects that it won’t last.

Sure enough, as they’re moving from the fourth floor to the sixth - their last but one target - Mateo falls into step with him.

“It’s been weird since you became a paramedic.”

Ahead of them, Judd groans. “Here we go again.”

“What?” Mateo protests. “It has.”

TK looks between them, curious. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just weird that you’re not on call with us anymore,” he says, shrugging.

“I am literally on call with you right now, Mateo.”

“Yeah, but not with us,” Mateo sighs. “And it’s not like you’re at every call, and you don’t do rescues, and you ride in the ambulance now. I know that this is what you want to do, and that’s really cool, seriously, but it’s just -”

“Weird,” TK finishes, laughing a little. He nudges Mateo with his shoulder. “I get it. It’s been weird for me, too.”

“Really?” He seems surprised, looking over at TK with wide eyes. TK sends him a wry smile.

“Really,” he says. “But -”

A shout from above grabs their attention, followed by the pounding of feet coming down the stairs towards them. The guy - a squatter, more than likely - freezes when he catches sight of them, but only briefly, before continuing to barrel down to them. TK’s able to shove Mateo out of the way, but the guy forcefully collides with him as he goes past, his momentum knocking TK off balance and sending him tumbling down the stairs to the landing below.

He groans, vision swimming as he attempts to push himself upright. His bag is lying a couple of feet away, contents spilling everywhere, and the thought crosses his mind that Captain Vega’s going to be pissed if he loses anything. He tries to get to his feet to collect it all, but the pounding in his head quickly informs him that’s not happening any time soon. 

Judd and Mateo’s faces appear in front of him, their mouths moving but no words coming out. Or… That’s not right. TK focuses as best he can, trying to blink some of the haziness from his mind.

Eventually, their voices reach him, as though underwater. “You with us, brother?” Judd asks, worry evident in his tone.

TK nods, then instantly regrets it as another wave of dizziness washes over him. Hands grasp his shoulders, pulling him up to rest against the wall, and it’s then that he notices a sharp sting in his right arm. He must have cut it on something, which isn’t ideal, given how dirty everything is here.

“Alright,” Judd says, his voice clearer this time. “I’m gonna need you to focus up for me, okay? You’re the paramedic here; you’ve gotta tell us what to do.”

TK huffs a small laugh, closing his eyes and taking a moment to clear the fuzz in his brain. “Definitely have a concussion,” he mutters. “Must have hit my head on the way down.”

He hasn’t opened his eyes yet, but he can feel Judd’s eye roll. “Yeah, no shit. It don’t look too bad, though; you’ve got a bit of a scrape on your cheek, but it seems fine. Hurt anywhere else?”

TK hums, doing a mental check. His entire body aches in some capacity, and he’s probably going to be bruised as hell tomorrow, but his cut is the only other injury he can detect. “Arm,” he says. “Think I cut it on something. Glass, maybe?”

Judd pushes his sleeve up, then sucks in a sharp breath. “Aw, shit, kid,” he murmurs, and TK gets the distinct impression he wasn’t meant to hear that. “Probie, let the captains know? Then go join the others; tell them they’ll have to finish the rest of the building themselves.”

TK frowns, forcing his eyes open. Mateo’s moved too far away for him to hear whatever he’s radioing in, so he turns to Judd instead, panic flaring at the pained look in his eyes. “What? What’s going on?”

Judd hesitates. “That wasn’t, um. That wasn’t glass you landed on, kid.” He shifts, carefully picking something up from the floor, pursing his lips before holding it up for TK to see.

A needle.

All the air feels like it’s sucked out of the room, a band tightening around his chest as his eyes blow wide, fixating on the object in front of him. His heart is racing and his thoughts are scrambled in a way that has nothing to do with the concussion because he just landed on a needle, oh god.

And TK had never been one for any of that stuff, not like some of his friends at the time were, but sober is sober, and he can’t lose that, he can’t, he won’t -

“You haven’t, okay? Just breathe, brother, that’s it. Breathe.”

Judd’s words reach him from far away. TK wants to comply, but his body doesn’t feel like his own, and his shaking fingers scrabble frantically at his uniform collar, the choking sensation only getting worse. A distant noise lets him know that Judd is still talking, and TK tries to latch onto that, leaning into the solid and grounding presence at his side.

Slowly, the panic starts to subside. He still feels on edge, weak and shaky, but he can breathe again, which counts for something.

“Sorry,” he gasps out when he’s able.

Judd’s mouth twists into a grimace. “None of that, now. You okay?”

TK nods, though he doubts it’s very convincing. “I will be,” he amends. “Give me a minute.”

At that moment, Judd’s radio crackles to life. “Ryder, what’s your status?” his dad’s voice says, very carefully professional.

Judd looks over to him. “Think you can stand?”

At TK’s nod, he grasps his radio. “Me and TK are on our way out, Cap,” he reports. “Be with you in a few.”

“Copy that.”

TK groans, taking a shaking breath before planting his hands on the floor, attempting to heave himself upright. He makes it to a half-crouch before his balance gives out, and it’s only Judd’s reflexes that save him from face planting the ground again.

“Jesus, TK,” Judd sighs. “Let me help you.”

His tone leaves no room for argument - not that TK could put up much of a fight at the moment if he tried. He leans his weight on Judd, letting him do most of the work to get them down the stairs and out of the building.

“Sorry for freaking out on you,” he murmurs. “I just…”

“I know, kid,” Judd says softly. “You’re alright, though.”

TK doesn’t say anything, not entirely convinced that Judd is right, but comforted by the sentiment anyway. It’s not until they’re nearing the ground floor that he realises something else, and it’s almost enough to make him want to turn back.

“This is going to be so embarrassing.”

Judd frowns. “What?”

He points between his head and his arm with his good hand. “I’m going to have to go to hospital to get these checked out.” He sighs. “A paramedic needing a ride in his own ambulance. I’m never going to live this down.”

Judd laughs, long and loud, and it’s enough to make a smile tug at TK’s own lips. “You’re something else, kid,” he says, gently ruffling TK’s hair.

TK grumbles and bats him away, but his heart isn’t in it. He’s never been more thankful for Judd, truth be told, and he knows he can trust him to understand. And as they head outside, TK starts to believe that maybe Judd was right after all. 

They’ll be alright, in the end.

[thebrownssociety]

Across The Serververse, Chapter 10

Hey! thanks to @thatsalotoftoons and @shipping-queen-fay-blog [thank you for your nice comments, but the way] for following this story.  

*Approximately 5 and a half hours later*

“There.” Marvin removed himself from the underside of Sam’s newly-fixed car, with an of someone reaching the end of his tether. “You will not find a more ready-to-go car than that, Yosemite.”

Wile.E closed the bonnet of the car and, handing a tool of some kind to Raodie, gave a thumbs up.

The others all hopped down/stood away from the bits of the car that they were working on, revealing the whole thing in it’s shiny, gold-painted glory to Sam.

It was beautiful, the pirate thought while staring at it in amazement. It had been good before, but now it was great! The two canon muzzles that stuck out the end of the car had been modified so they were now ready to hold anything and Wile.E had done something with the amount of stuff the car could hold so it was, in a word, better.

Sam smiled and ran his hands over the paintwork. “It’s as good as new.” He said, trying not to get to emotional. “I-I don’t know how ta thank ya all.”

“You know...” Pepe said, coming over to stand next to Sam and putting his hand on the car door in what could only be described as a seductive manner. “We technically still have ze time? You could probably still run ze race if you wanted...?”

Sam gave it serious consideration, but then shook his head reluctantly. “Nah. I ah couldn’t do that. Not when we’re missing several relatives. I mean...if it all ends up coming down to the last couple of hours ah don’t wanna be thinkin’ ‘if only I hadn’t run that race!’ Ya know wha’ ah mean? Besides. The track do darn go on forever. Nah, les leave it.”

Just at that exact moment day turned into night, as it tended to do. There were no sunsets or sunrises in the serververse [unless you lived in a live-action world, such as Harry Potter] the sun just went up and down without any warning.

With a cry of alarm Bugs signalled to Marvin and the Martian sped-walked towards him with a placating: “Do not worry yourself, my furry brother, I have a torch somewhere in my hammerspa-”

“What?” Bugs looked at him like he’d lost the plot. “Oi’m not scared of de dark, Marvin. Oi scurry me little hide through pitch-black tunnels most of the time, how can I be scared of de dark? No, I want ta plan wit’ ya where we’re going next as - and you may not have noticed this - IT’S DE MIDDLE OF DE NIGHT!”

Marvin's eyes narrowed and he put his hands on his hips. “I appreciate this is a stressful time for us all, Bugs, but if you would kindly refrain from shouting at me-”

“Who’s shouting?” Bugs yelled.

Marvin’s eyes narrowed even further so they were practically one eye and he said, with dignity. “I shall attribute your attitude to both your concern about our siblings and lack of sleep. Now-” Marvin began, his tone, bearing and general attitude reminding everyone why he was in charge of a planet and they were not. “-Listen to me and listen well. We are nearly out of both water and fuel. We forgot to bring food with us, although I am willing to take responsibility for that as it is my ship, and we now have a car to transport. So I propose we go back to Warner Brothers Central for 12 hours exactly. I shall stock the ship with supplies and fill it up with fuel, Sam can take his car somewhere it won’t be a nuisance and we can all get some rest. We’ll then head straight off and decide who to get next after we all have clearer minds.” There was a pause during which Marvin looked at Bugs like he was expecting a reply.

Bugs blinked back at him, trying to process what he’d just said. His head felt foggy. He ran a hand across his forehead and smiled in what he hoped was a nice smile and not a deranged one. 

Marvin cleared his throat and said, slowly and clearly. “I propose we do that right this minute as - as you keep reminding us - time is off the essence. Is anyone against that plan?” He asked, looking round at the rest of the group.

If Bugs had been thinking clearly he’d have seen that everyone else was completely cool with Marvin’s idea, even Tweety who had been on edge for about the last 10 hours, seemed happy with it.

As he was not thinking clearly, however - far from it, he was tired, hungry, stressed and worried - Bugs said with the kind of ferocity you might expect from a wolf, should you ever meet one. “Okay, Oi get it. Ya want ta leave our family alone to fight for dere lives!” Voice rising, he spat. “Granny an’ Speedy are in ‘The Matrix’! Dey could be dead-!”

“Bugs!” Penelope cut in, with an urgent head nod at Tweety, who had gone ashen. 

Not even noticing her Bugs steamrolled on. “-Or bein’ attacked or somethin’! Sentient A.I’s who knows what damage dey cahn do! An’ Porky and Daffy are in DC World! An Lola’s dere as well! Villains! Superhero’s! Oi mean sure-” Bugs rambled, his voice becoming progressively higher-pitched as his body also started to shake. “All de times we’ve been dere it’s been fine, bit who knows now? Acid vaults! Incineration rays! Plants! That...” Here Bugs struggled  for a few seconds to find the words, then managed to grasp them. “...weird egg man...what was his name? - Humpty Dumpty! I mean-” At this point Bugs found himself unable to talk properly and made motions with his arms that, to him, represented sewing and to everyone else represented a nervous breakdown. “Oi mean...” He repeated. Slowing down now he looked at his family with wide eyes and a trembling frame, saying in a small voice. “...Oi don’t know what I mean.” Before bursting into tears. 

There was a long pause while the others tried to remember the last time they saw Bugs cry. Genuinely cry I mean, not for a cartoon or the like. Quite a while ago now...

It was Penelope who finally got enough wits about her to go and actually comfort the rabbit. Making soothing noises and reassuring him that Daffy, Porky and Lola would probably be fine as would the rest of the family, she enveloped him in a hug. 

One by one the other toons moved in and hugged Bugs as well. It took a while but eventually the rabbits breathing evened out and he started calming down. A little while longer and Bugs said, somewhat shakily. “Okay...Oi’m alright now. Jus’ lost me senses for a few minutes.”

“It’s perfectly logical.” Wile.E said, in what was meant to be a reassuring manner, but came across as lecturing. “This has been a stressful time and the human - or in your case - the rabbit mind can only deal with so much. After a short while-” 

It was at this point that Roadie elbowed his twin and held up a sign that said. ‘I don’t think he needs a lecture, Wile.E.’

Wile.E, massaging his arm, saw this and muttered something agreeable. 

“Marvin-” Bugs muttered, sounding exhausted. “-take over will ya? Oi don’t feel good.” And he sat down and put his head in his hands.

“Right.” Marvin wasted no time. “Wile.E and Roadie put Bugs up and carry him back to the ship. It’s clear the poor rabbit’s suffering a nervous breakdown of some sort. We’ll do what I said. Hopefully sleep will restore everyone’s minds. Let’s not waste any time now, Wile.E, Roadie?”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Meanwhile, watching all this from the monitors Pete smiled [as much as a blob can smile] and dreamed about what it would be like if he could be so lucky as to be one of the ‘Looney Tunes’. He didn’t see why it couldn’t work. HIs jelly-like body was practically made for squashing under anvils....

After indulging this fantasy for more than a few minutes Pete slapped himself and started checking the other monitors.

Elmer was still fine. No change there then. Still showing a resistance to Mama’s Yak Stew and the like, but that was understandable.

Gossamer and Witch Hazel...Pete zoomed in and grimaced a little. Interesting. Very interesting. Amazing how people will change when you give them a little power...

On the bright side the guards were reacting well to Hazel. Pete had been worried about that...

Granny and Speedy...Pete zoomed in just in time for a fighting scene. Pete winced...he’d never seen a handbag used quite like that before...

Lola...still good. She was certainly improving. All that training must be paying off. 

And finally Daffy and Porky. Last time they’d been fine...

Pete zoomed in and - ah. How interesting. He leaned forward and linked his tentacles together. Really, he should have expected this. What was it Rhythm always said? There are ways round everything? How clever...

His last thoughts, before he stopped his monitoring for a few hours, was to wonder how the other toons would react to this? 

[kat-tamin]

bailemos (let’s dance)

Kat makes a plan. Rafael goes along with it. Sonny wonders what the fuck is happening.

Ship: Kat x Sonny x Rafael

Warnings: Threesome, Smut: Oral, Hands, Anal, Vaginal. The whole shebang.

Word Count: 4501

Normally during big cases like the Mickey Davis one, Sonny and Kat’s sex life would take a dip. Kat would have to take care of herself, a vibrator in one hand, phone in the other. But lately Sonny would come home from work and fuck her into the mattress, almost before she could properly greet him.

After meeting Barba, Kat thought she understood why. He was a frustrating man to deal with, the epitome of a snaky lawyer. It seemed like Sonny was getting out his stress by fucking her. That’s what she thought was happening, until Sonny admitted one night that he and Barba had history. Not just work history, but sexual history. Sonny said it basically ended as fast as it began, with Barba leaving New York soon after.

Kat wasn’t angry. They both had histories, some better left in the past, but she looked at Barba differently after that. She saw the brief glances he sent her boyfriend, packed with unsaid words. His frustrating lawyer talk now sounded like flirty banter to her ears. The reasoning behind their sex became clearer. Sonny wasn’t frustrated: he was turned on by Barba.

Kat expected to feel jealous, but her mind pictured the two men together. Her own movements got more passionate at the thought. She would go to court, her body having a Pavlovian response to Barba's presence, because Barba + Sonny = Kat cumming. She would watch the two men argue, her panties becoming wetter and wetter.

The Davis case was over, a hard one for everyone involved. For her own selfish reasons, Kat didn't want it to end. But then Sonny invited Rafael over to his and Kat’s new apartment for dinner. They both wanted to relax and catch up.

Sonny made homemade pasta with red sauce. Barba brought over a bottle of Tequila, straight from Mexico. After dinner, they moved to the living room, the two lawyers sitting on the sofa together. Kat curled up on the chair across from them taking in their conversation, her head swiveling between them, like she was watching a tennis match. She could debate with the best of them, but tonight she could barely hang on, their words like a roller coaster.

She sipped at her red wine, tuning out their words to look at their faces. The stress of the past few weeks had evaporated from her boyfriend, Sonny looking so happy to be in the company of his former mentor. Mentor slash ex, she reminded herself.

Barba seemed happy to be here too. He hadn’t excluded Kat from he and Sonny’s conversations, keen to get to know her too. It turned out they were both Bronx babies, and they talked extensively about the changes in the borough.

So he was nice, and, if Kat was honest, pretty damn sexy with that beard. It was too bad he had to shave it off for trial. Her mind wandered, wondering what his stubble would feel like between her thighs.

She shouldn’t be thinking this, she thought, tipping her head back to drain the rest of her wine. She was in a committed relationship with a great guy who treated her perfectly. She didn’t need anybody else.

Sonny said something, making Barba laugh. The older man’s hand dropped to Sonny’s knee, giving it a small squeeze. Sonny stopped laughing, his blue eyes growing wide. He looked at Kat, panicked. Barba quickly withdrew his hand, the tops of his cheeks turning pink.

Kat waited for the drop of jealousy to well up in her chest, but instead, a rush of arousal flooded her core. 

It felt too warm in here. Her hand went to the buttons of her blouse, undoing the buttons until she had a nice deep V that showed off her cleavage. Both men eyed her, Barba's gaze going straight to her chest. 

Kat stood up, reaching for the tequila and the shot glasses. “It’s a shame if we let this go to waste,” she said, pouring out three shots. She handed one to Barba along with a lime wedge, her fingers lingering too long to not be deliberate. Rafael’s brow raised. Kat just shot him a slight smirk, confirming his suspicions. 

They all clinked glasses, throwing their heads back in unison. The alcohol burned all the way down Kat’s throat, heating up in her stomach. Her body felt like liquid, her courage soaring. 

Barba sucked on his lime wedge, the obscene noise going straight to Kat's clit. His eyes never left her’s as he sucked every last drop from the fruit. He found her very attractive, with a tight, strong body apparent even under her clothes. Her bright brown eyes were arresting, pulling him in.

Kat leaned forward in her seat, putting her hand on Sonny’s knee. She massaged gently, rubbing up and down his thigh.“You didn’t even flinch, baby. Do you like that?”

Sonny lifted his brow, looking at her quizzically. “Yes…” He glanced at Barba, lifting his glass in a toast. “Very good bottle.”

“It’s a special occasion,” Rafael said with a shrug of his broad shoulders. He shifted in his seat, angling his body towards the man beside him. “Only the best for you, Sonny.”

The temperature of the room seemed to go up a couple of degrees, the tension thickening. Kat looked at Rafael, trying to communicate what she was thinking; what she wanted.

His mouth curved into a smirk, picking up on the vibes she was sending him. His hand went to the back of Sonny’s neck, tugging on the strands of his hair. Sonny shivered at his touch, once again looking at Kat, who was running a finger over her own lips. She was looking at him like a wolf looked at a rabbit. Sonny peered at Rafael, who had the same leer as his girlfriend. 

“Okay, what’s...what’s going on?” Sonny tripped over his words, the drinks making his tongue thick in his mouth. They were acting weird. Not drunk, but just… weird.

“Do you wanna know a secret, Rafael?” Kat asked, tilting her head. Her brown eyes looked black with want, making Sonny even more confused.

“Tell me,” Rafael answered, his fingers still stroking patterns into Sonny’s skin. Sonny unconsciously leaned into his hand, seeking his touch.

“Sonny and I have been fucking non-stop since you got into town.” The words spilled out of Kat’s mouth before she could stop them. Not that she wanted to.

“Kat!” Sonny hissed, his eyes wide as saucers. What the fuck was she doing? He thought, his heart leaping into his throat.

“I think he was thinking about you,” Kat continued, as if Sonny hadn’t said anything. Her tone wasn’t accusatory or jealous, but an almost purr, ladened with arousal.

“Hmmm, is that true, cariño?” Rafael moved closer to Sonny, his mouth near his ear. His hot breath brought goosebumps to Sonny's skin. “Were you thinking of me?”

“I-” Sonny couldn’t speak, too baffled at what was going on. Rafael’s stubble scratched at his cheek, making his shudder. His girlfriend was watching them, her breathing slightly laboured.

She was turned on. Sonny’s mind spun, trying to make sense of it. She was turned on watching Rafael and Sonny together. She was biting down on her bottom lip, her nails digging into his thighs. What the fuck?

“Cariño, do you want this?” Rafael asked in a husky voice. He brushed his lips over the shell of Sonny’s ear. “Do you want me?”

Sonny hesitated, his gaze once more seeking Kat’s. She laid a hand on Sonny’s cheek, soft compared to Rafael’s scratchiness. “It’s okay, baby, tell the truth.”

It was like a dance, but Sonny didn’t know the steps. He looked from Rafael to Kat and back again, trying to get the rhythm. He paused, wondering if this was a good idea. But the beat was too intoxicating to step away.

He took a deep breath and joined their dance.

“Yes,” he answered in a rough voice. He looked between his current lover and his former one. “I want you. I want…” He swallowed, suddenly nervous about saying what he truly desired. “I want both of you.”

Kat let out a breath of surprise, sitting back in her seat. “Really?”

Sonny’s light brows drew together in a frown. “Of course I do.” She was his girlfriend, and no matter what she might say, he felt like being with just Rafael would be cheating.

Kat crossed her legs, trying to control the throb between her thighs. “I was just going to watch, but…” She looked at Rafael for reassurance, licking her lips nervously. “If that’s okay with you?”

Rafael let out a low chuckle, rolling his eyes. “You’re really asking if I’m okay having two of the sexiest members of the Special Victims Unit at the same time?” He got to his feet, offering his hands to Kat who took them without hesitation. “It would be my pleasure.”

Kat rose up with Rafael’s help, pausing to touch Sonny’s shoulder. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

It was no surprise that Rafael and Kat took the lead. They both loved to be in control, even more when they were in control of Sonny. He loved it even more, all his thoughts evaporating at their touch.

As soon as they entered the bedroom, Kat's lips were on Sonny's, frenzied and hungry. She undid the buttons of his shirt, so fast she almost ripped them off the fabric. Kat felt a mouth on her neck, strong hands on her hips. Rafael stood behind her, pressing into her. She could feel the slight bulge in his pants, a slight moan escaping her throat. Rafael kissed up and down her neck, stubble rubbing at her skin.

Once Sonny's shirt was on the floor, Kat turned to kiss Rafael, his tongue plunging into her open mouth. He tasted like lime and salt. His five o’clock shadow scratched at her skin, pain mixing with pleasure. She worked at the buttons on his shirt, a bit more carefully than she did with Sonny. His clothes looked a tad more expensive, and she knew she'd feel guilty if she wrecked the fabric.

Sonny went behind Rafael, helping him out of his shirt, leaving him naked from the waist up. Kat ran her fingers over his hairy chest, rubbing his soft stomach. His body was different from Sonny's, but it was just as sexy.

She ended their kiss with a soft nip at his lower lip, stepping away from Rafael. She intended to strip off her clothes slowly, give them a show, but the two men weren't even watching. They were drawn together like magnets, their bodies pressed close to each other. As she got rid of her top, Kat watched Sonny and Rafael kiss, almost manically. They kissed like they had to make up for lost time. Rafael gripped Sonny’s cheek, trying to bring his face as near as possible. Sonny sighed into his lips, feeling content. His hands roamed over Rafael’s body, remembering each dip and curve.

Kat wasted no time getting naked, cupping herself as she watched them kiss. Her body was positively burning with desire. She carefully reached for Sonny's belt, not wanting to disturb their makeout session. As soon as she tugged it off him, Sonny drew back from Rafael, breathing hard. He stepped out of his pants, stumbling in his haste. Rafael put out a hand to steady him, his own face flushed. "We have time, cariño. Don't worry."

Rafael turned his eyes to Kat, widening at her bare body. He had been so busy focusing on Sonny, he didn't notice her getting undressed. He swept his eyes up and down, taking in her part nipples and the dusk between her legs. His cock began to firm at the sight. "You're so beautiful, Katriona," he murmured. Her name sounded like honey in his mouth, making her even wetter.

"Thank you," she responded, moving towards him. "But I'm very interested to know what you're hiding under here." She touched the waistband of his trousers, trailing her fingers to touch his hardening cock. 

Rafael's hips instinctively rutted against her hand, seeking friction. He undid his belt, shimmied off his trousers and briefs. Kat and Sonny gasped in unison as they finally saw Rafael's prize. His cock was shorter than Sonny's, but thicker with a delicious looking vein on the underside. Sonny wrapped his hand around the shaft, feeling like he was greeting an old friend.

Kat's mouth began to water, her cunt clenching at the sight. She sank to her knees in front of the two men, putting her face to face with their cocks. Sonny was already at full staff, precum leaking out of his slit. She started there, licking up his salty fluid, the taste familiar but exquisite. Her hand came up to hold his cock steady as she took him into his mouth. Sonny let out a loud groan, echoing in the small room. His girlfriend was one of the best cock suckers he ever had. She could swallow him whole without even flinching.

As she began to bob her head, Kat's other hand went to Rafael, squeezing the base of his cock with her strong fingers. He was so fat, she almost couldn't fit her whole hand around him. She let her hand go to his balls, heavy and full. She fondled him, still sucking Sonny off.

She felt Sonny’s hips get more and more erratic, a signal that he was close. She wrenched her head back, switching to engulf Rafael's cock. She took all of him in one swoop, making him shout. Her other hand jerked Sonny off, using her own spit as lube. Her mouth was hot and wet around Rafael's cock, her tongue swiping along his skin. Pleasure radiated down his spine, growing with thrust into her mouth. 

Over the next few minutes, Kat pleasured them both, alternating between her mouth and her hand. Her mind went blissfully blank, only focusing on her instinctual need to please them. Wetness was leaking from her cunt, leaving a puddle between her legs. Her knees were burning from the cheap rug, but she paid it no attention. 

She just needed their cum.

Rafael put his hand in her hair, yanking her away from his cock. She whined at the loss, her tongue going for Sonny's. Rafael stopped her with another tug of her hair. "What do you want, Katriona?"

"Your cum," she panted, not even thinking. "My face. My mouth." She looked up at Sonny, her eyes pleading. "Please cum for me."

Fuck. Sonny's hips stuttered, so close, her words spurning him on. "Open wide," he said through gritted teeth.

Kat leaned back on her heels, Rafael's hand still tugging on her hair. She put her hands on both their cocks, quickening her strokes. She opened her mouth into a large O, waiting like a baby bird for food from its mother. 

Sonny came first, a stream of cum hitting her cheek. She reached her tongue out further, catching his release. Rafael came a moment after, shooting his cum right into her mouth.

Kat swallowed as much as she could, their seeds mixing together in her stomach. It was salty and delicious, coating her tongue. A few strands landed on her face and chest, painting her dark skin white. 

Sonny thought she never looked more beautiful, cum spilling from her mouth. Her brown eyes were dark with desire, her cheeks a faint pink. 

Rafael thought so too, cupping her chin to get a better look at her. "So beautiful," he murmured, swiping his thumb along her bottom lip. He brought it to his own mouth, tasting his and Sonny's mixture.

Kat got to her feet, unsteady from being on her knees for so long. She stumbled to the bed, laying down on her back. Her chest was heaving, making her tits jiggle.

"Now, this won't do," Rafael announced. He knelt on the bed beside her, looking at her body. Her thighs were sticky with her juices. He licked his lips. "We can't leave you like this, now can we?"

Sonny got on the bed, tucking himself behind Kat. She placed herself between his legs, his chest pressing into her back. Sonny tweaked a nipple, making her jerk in surprise. “You want Raf to eat you out, doll?”

Kat nodded enthusiastically, thrilled her fantasy was about to become a reality. 

Rafael knelt between her legs, his hands ghosting over her shins. “What do you say?” the lawyer asked in a mocking tone.

Damn him and his fucking words. Kat was no sub in the bedroom but something about Rafael’s voice made her want to obey. “Please, Raf… Touch me.”

Rafael’s face broke into a wicked grin. “With pleasure.”

He dipped his head between her thighs, cleaning up the mess she had made on herself. Goosebumps erupted all over her body, made worse by Sonny touching her breasts. Her boyfriend played with her nipples, twisting and pinching softly.

She needed more. Her hips jerked to try and meet Rafael’s mouth. He just chuckled softly, looking up at her. “Impatient.” His gaze shifted to Sonny. “Hold her down, will you?”

Sonny obeyed, his strong hands moving to Kat’s hips, pinning her down. She whined, craning up to look at him. Sonny just grinned, enjoying the tortured look in her eyes.

Rafael finally moved his head to her core, his stubble scraping her sensitive thighs. She gasped at the sensation, another drop of wetness escaping her pussy. Rafael caught it with his tongue, licking into her entrance. She wanted to thrust against him, but Sonny stopped her again, his fingers surely leaving bruises.

Rafael moved to her clit, sucking the bud into his mouth. Kat threw her head back, almost knocking into Sonny’s chin. “Fuck, Raf… Just like that.”

His talented tongue circled and swiped along her clit, sending sparks up her spine. Pressure began to build in her core. She felt fingers at her entrance and eagerly spread her legs.

Rafael stopped his movements, ignoring Kat’s whine, to ask Sonny: “How many fingers can she take?”

Sonny thought back, biting his lip. His face curved into a smirk, nuzzling at Kat’s hair. “3 easily, especially when she’s this wet.” In honesty she could take more, but Sonny wanted her to be able to do a few rounds tonight.

Rafael shot them a decisive nod, going back down her body, flexing his fingers. Sonny was right: Kat swallowed all three fingers with ease. Kat shrieked at the intrusion, Sonny having a hard time keeping her still. Rafael’s fingers were bigger than Sonny’s, stretching her further than her boyfriend usually did.

Rafael thrust into her, angling his fingers to press into her front wall. His tongue didn’t stop, lapping at her clit. Kat screwed her eyes shut, her pleasure building and building. 

Sonny could feel her shaking, so close to the edge. He put his lips near her ear, whispering: “Let go, doll.”

She did, with a long, loud scream. Wetness coated Rafael’s fingers as she came. He kept thrusting into her, letting her down easy until she stopped twitching. He withdrew, putting his fingers in his mouth to taste her sweet juices. The tangy liquid tasted like sweet nectar, straight from the Gods.

Sonny let her hips go, rubbing the red skin tenderly. She opened her eyes, looking glassy eyed. “How was that?” he asked her, pushing a strand of hair off her sweaty forehead.

“Amazing,” she answered lazily. She looked at Rafael and repeated her words: “Amazing. Fuck, you got a mouth on you.”

“So do you,” he replied, bringing her in for a kiss. She could taste herself on his tongue, a bolt of pleasure running down her spine.

Kat sat up, rolling off Sonny’s body. She laid down on her stomach, exhaustion settling in her bones. “Okay, your turn. I need a minute.”

Sonny’s head turned to Rafael, his gaze expectant. His blue eyes swiped down his ex’s body to his half-hard cock. The sight made his own dick twitch. He got to his knees to give Rafael a kiss. Their tongues danced with each other, wet noises emerging from their mouths. 

Sonny felt Rafael’s strong hands moving to his ass, kneading the pliant flesh. A thrill went through Sonny’s body. He knew what was coming next.

Rafael swiped a finger down Sonny’s crack. “I missed your ass, cariño.”

His words sent shivers through Sonny’s body. “I missed you in my ass,” he admitted, swiping his tongue along Rafael’s lower lips.

Rafael groaned at the admission, his grip tightening on Sonny’s hips. His cock hardened to it’s full state, precum leaking out of the tip. “Get on your knees.”

There was no room for discussion. Sonny got onto the bed on his hands and knees, his ass in the air, his face near Kat. She watched, her gaze sharp, taking in everything.

Rafael looked down at Sonny’s pink hole, virgin tight with disuse. It would take a bit to open him up, but Rafael was confident in his abilities. 

“Do you have…” he trailed off as Kat rolled off the bed, rummaging in the bedside table. She emerged with a bottle of lube, almost empty from use.

“Sorry,” she said, handing it to him. She walked to stand beside Rafael, putting a hand on the base of Sonny’s spine to signal her whereabouts.

She followed Rafael’s movements as he drizzled a healthy amount of oil on his fingers and Sonny’s ass. She took the bottle from him when he was done, like a nurse in an operating room.

“Have you done this before?” Rafael paused to ask her, lube dripping onto Sonny’s cheek, making the other man flinch in surprise.

Kat nodded. “Not with a guy, though.”

Rafael’s brow shot up. “Really?” 

Kat shrugged; shot him a coy smile. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, counsellor.”

The title went straight to Rafael’s cock. Normally he abhorred being called that in the bedroom, but he found himself liking it coming from her mouth. His mind spun, picturing himself fucking into her, Kat moaning the title into his ear.

Sonny’s ass wiggled impatiently, drawing Rafael back to the present. “Sorry, cariño.” He rubbed his finger around Sonny’s asshole, making the other man jerk back into his touch. He started slowly, pressing his ring finger into Sonny, working past the tight ring of muscle.

Kat’s breath caught in her chest as she saw Sonny swallow Rafael, the man’s finger disappearing into his ass. Rafael, very patiently, stretched Sonny until he could fit another finger.

Sonny moaned at the intrusion, pleasure radiating at his spine. Every thrust of Rafael’s fingers brought sparks behind his lids. It didn’t take long before he was meeting his movements, seeking more.

“Are you ready?” Rafael asked, rubbing Sonny’s left cheek.

“Fuck yes,” Sonny asked, his voice strangled. He was already panting.

Rafael smirked, withdrawing his fingers out of Sonny. Before he could adjust to the emptiness, Raf pressed the tip of his cock to his hole. He slid into Sonny, Kat watching as it went in, inch by slow inch.

Rafael bottomed out, his pubic bone pressing against the swell of Sonny’s ass. It was heavenly, feeling Sonny’s ass around his cock. He was so hot and tight. “Good boy, cariño.”

He began to thrust into Sonny, slow and steady, letting him get used to the stretch. Sonny’s walls clenched around his cock, drawing a loud groan from him. He moved his hips faster and faster, rocking into Sonny.

His cock dragged along Sonny’s prostate, lightning shooting through his body. With every thrust, Sonny moved closer to the edge. It had been so long since he came like this, he wasn’t sure how much he could take.

Kat’s hand went to her clit, her core dripping at the two men fucking. She circled the bud, desire building in her abdomen. Rafael’s gaze shot to her then to her hand. He moved his hands from Sonny’s hips to his waist, hoisting him up, to the blonde’s shock. Sonny yelped at the change in position, Rafael’s cock hitting at a different angle.

“Get under him,” Rafael said to Kat through gritted teeth. 

Again, there was no room for arguing. Kat slid under Sonny’s body, spreading her legs. She grabbed his cock, red and angry looking, and guided it into her pussy. Rafael snapped his hips, pushing Sonny deep into Kat. The two lovers moaned in unison at the feeling.

Sonny thought he was going to pass out in pleasure. With a cock in his ass and his own in a pussy, he felt fireworks going off in his body. His eyes rolled back in his head at the push and pull. Every atom, every molecule, every cell of his body was screaming. He was going to die between the two people he adored most.

Rafael set the pace, fast and rough. He fucked Kat through Sonny, his eyes never leaving her face. Her mouth was open, small mewls spilling out. It wouldn’t be long for each of them to cum. Rafael bit his lip, trying to stave it off. He tried to think of something, anything to keep his body from giving in.

It was no surprise that Sonny came first, with an almost animalistic howl. He would have collapsed onto Kat if Rafael hadn’t caught him, holding him up as he spilled into his girlfriend.

Rafael was still fucking him, and it became too much for Sonny.

“Stop,” he gasped, trying to pull out of Kat. “I need…”

Rafael pulled himself out of Sonny’s ass, letting the younger man move out of their embrace. Sonny was barely out of the way before Rafael pushed into Kat in one swoop, Sonny’s cum making the transition easy.

Kat moaned at the switch. It felt deliciously dirty, two men right after the other. She met Rafael’s thrusts with her own, close to the edge. Her hands gripped the sheets, holding on for dear life. So close, so close…

Sonny saw the signs of her orgasm. He was exhausted, but he knew what to do. He put his mouth on Kat’s breast, sucking a nipple into his mouth.

His mouth mixed with Rafael’s thrusts made her pleasure peak, waves of ecstasy rolling through her. She screamed as it came, over and over again. The orgasm seemed never-ending.

The clutching of Kat’s walls sent Rafael over the edge as well, his cock spilling into her with a twitch. The pressure in his lower back ebbed, relief pouring into veins.

He stilled his movements, making sure Kat was done. When she shot him a shaky nod, he stepped away. Sonny and Rafael’s cum dripped out of her, making a mess on the sheets.

“Well,” Rafael said in between loud gulps of air. He looked between the couple, who were red faced and exhausted, curling into each other. “Maybe I should come to the city more often.” 

[mason-knight-retired]

Ethan cracks one eye open just in time to see Mason pulling on his clothes.

“Where are you going at this ungodly hour?”

He reaches out, planning to swipe his hand over a curve of bare flesh before it disappears behind a tight black workout suit but Mason steps too nimbly out of his reach.

“It’s three in the afternoon. We’ve been asleep most of the day.”

“Wasn’t that much sleeping, as I recall.”

Mason pauses to throw a meaningful glance over his shoulder. “No, that much is true.”

He watches Mason dress, the other man’s movements confident and comfortable in a way they haven’t been for a long time. Muscles ripple across his back as he pulls on the top part of the suit and Ethan refuses to acknowledge the newly formed scars that paint puckered red lines across Mason’s reinforced skin. He has already spent hours mapping them with his fingers and mouth and in spite of them, Mason looks strong. Confident and comfortable and a far cry from the tired, battered shell dragged halfway across the galaxy following his escape from Omega.

Perhaps, Ethan considers grudgingly – very grudgingly - those alliance scientists weren’t entirely useless after all.

He inches his palm over the sheets towards Mason, contemplating how he’d much prefer to peel the suit back away from Mason’s skin than see him leave. Mason had been warm and responsive under Ethan’s hands earlier, and Ethan wants to do it all over again.

He props himself up on one elbow. “You should come back to bed.”

Mason’s hands pause for a moment then he shakes his head. “Can’t. Marie’s waiting.” Mason pulls on his shoes. “We’re going to go for a run and I need to shake off the cobwebs.”

“There are better ways.”

Mason looks over. “You could come with us, you know.”

Ethan wrinkles his nose delicately. A run seems pointless to him. Where were they running to anyway, on a space station in the middle of space? Ridiculous. Besides, there was no love lost between the commander and himself. He’d sooner spend his time with a chatty volus. At least they might have something useful to offer him.

“This skin wasn’t made to sweat.”

“Says the phoenix,” Mason laughs then and it transforms his face into something beautiful. “Alright, suit yourself.”

“I always do,” Ethan murmurs as Mason finishes dressing. He’s on his way to the door before he stops and turns back, crawling across the mattress briefly to lean down to press a parting kiss to Ethan’s mouth that tastes faintly of mint. Mason draws back and his throat bobs in a rough swallow, as though he’s embarrassed at his domestic show of affection and he’s about to pull away before Ethan captures him, curling his fingers around the back of Mason’s neck to hold him in place as he kisses him back.

Ethan doesn’t stop to dwell on why.

--

Mason finds Marie waiting for him under a tree by in the Presidium commons.

“Hey, phoenix,” she grins as she leans up to give him a hug. He returns it easily.

“Hey yourself, alliance.”

She taps her wrist and raises her eyebrow. “You kept me waiting long enough.”

Mason clears his throat roughly as he glances away. He doesn’t let himself think about why he was late. “Sorry, we’re a bit looser on schedules than what you’re used to. Afternoon run, though? Still can’t get yourself out of bed before midday, huh?”

“Nope,” she grins apologetically and throws her arms up in a stretch above her head. Her cropped top rides up, baring the smooth skin of her midriff. Even after all these years, Marie is as fit and as gorgeous as ever. Time has been good to her. “So, are you ready for this?”

He grins and bounces lightly on the balls of his feet. He’s warmed up already and ready to put Marie through her paces. “Yep. We’ll start up here in the presidium and make our way to the wards.”

“That’s a long way,” she frowns.

“What’s the matter, Miller,” he taunts lightly. “Don’t think you can handle it?”

“Please,” she scoffs and hip checks him with a roll of her eyes and all of a sudden, they’re fifteen again with the sunlight streaming over their shoulders on the school track. “I’m more concerned about you. All those Cerberus parts rattling around. Wouldn’t want anything to come loose after we just got you all fixed up.”

Mason snickers at that. “Let’s go.”

--

It feels like they run for days but eventually Mason has to remind himself that Marie doesn’t have the same augmentations he does and he cuts it somewhere near Apollo’s Cafe. Marie has kept pace with him admirably but after a few laps of the Presidium tracks, he can see she’s started to tire.

It felt good though. It felt good to run and fall into the rhythm of his feet against the paths under the Citadel’s artificial sky. It wasn’t the same as Sol’s sunlight and they had to dodge and weave through the population milling about, but it was still pretty damn good.

Not for the first time, Mason finds himself grateful for Marie’s tenacity in pulling together a team to help him. Him, and whatever was left of Project Phoenix that were still human.

“Zeus isn’t going to get pissy at me for monopolizing your time, is he?” Mason asks later, long after they’ve slowed to a walk and grabbed something to drink. It’s been a few hours now and the night tones of the artificial sky were starting to leak through, creating a twilight that had them sitting together at the edge of the lake to watch the changes.  

Marie rolls her eyes. “Of course not.”

“Are you sure? You know how he gets. He knows I’ve seen you naked, right?”

Marie blinks then lets out a peel of laughter. She tries to slap his shoulder but he leans out of her reach. “But the question is, do you even remember?”

Mason taps the side of his head. “Better now,” he grins but the smile slips after a moment. “I have you to thank for that, Rie. If you hadn’t brought together that lab…”

Surprisingly, Marie flushes slightly and glances away. “I’d do anything for you boys,” she says softly. “Well, almost anything. But you are looking better. Better than when I first found you, anyway. I never asked… Does this mean… your memories? Do you have them back?”

“Clearer, although there’s still parts missing. Ethan says I should be grateful, there’s three years of hell there that’s better off staying repressed.”

“But you remember everything else?”

“Most of it. I think.”

“So you remember telling my Nonna to kiss your ass?”

“I what?”

“Yes. That first night I brought you home after we started dating.”

He cycles back through his memories but it comes up blank. “No…. wait, are you testing me? That didn’t happen.”

“Mmmhm, it did.”

“Nope. I don’t believe it. I would never say that.”

“You did,” she insists. “You looked her right in the eye and said bacia il mio culo peloso, Nonna.”

“I did? Wow, what an asshole.”

She laughs, leaning in against him. “Michael pranked you. You thought you were thanking her for the food.”

Mason’s heart pangs roughly in his chest as he tries to remember. Michael, Marie’s younger brother, had been cheeky and bright and while Mason doesn’t remember much but a wide smile and the same brown eyes that he shared with Marie, he remembers the warmth and affection he had for him.

“I’m sorry, you know. About what happened. I don’t think I ever said that before. I might not remember everything, but I remember I loved him.”

Marie doesn’t really answer but she loops her arm through his and tucks in against him. She’s warm as the sky dims and the breeze licks away their sweat but their silence is comfortable. He thinks he might even catch the scent of apples in the air.  

“We have to make this a regular thing,” she says after a few long moments. “Workout, run, eat… debrief about who’s boyfriend is hotter? Definitely mine by the way.”

Mason wrinkles his nose at that. Nico was passable, if you liked the bulky, broody sort with bad attitudes. “In your dreams, Miller.”

She pounces at that. “Ha! So you admit it! He is your boyfriend! Mads was right!”

“Ajax?” Mason scoffs. “Ah, no. It’s not-“

“Bullshit, Mase. God, the way Maddy tells it, you two have been married for years.”

“No… It’s not… It’s not like that.”

“You need to lock that down.”

Mason lifts an eyebrow. “The fastest way to guarantee Sabre never looks twice at me again would be to-“ Mason wiggles his fingers as air quotes, “’lock that down’… So no, not doing that. What the hell are you listening to Ajax for anyway?”

Marie gives him a look like it should be obvious and he’s a few tools short of a tool shed. “Uh, best friend.”

Mason places a hand on his heart, wounded. “I thought I was your best friend?”

She smiles sweetly and pats his cheek. “Mase, you are my oldest friend.”

“Yeah,” he grins. “So suck on that, Maddy.”

She laughs again and bumps him with her shoulder. “Seriously though, Mase. Do us all a favor and lock that down with Sinclair. Or not.”

“We are not talking about this.”

“You could do better you know. Maybe I should introduce you to someone new. Maybe Harris has a friend-“

“I will pull you down by your hair, Miller,” he threatens.

“Please, I could run rings around you,” and she shoves at him for good measure only this time, his body doesn’t budge. She rolls her eyes and he snickers smugly.

“Damn phoenix.”

“Come on, Commander. Let’s go try this fancy coffee equivalent you’re been harping on about before Zeus shows up and yells at me for stealing his girlfriend.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” but Marie’s expression turns playfully unsure. “I think. He probably would enjoy the chance to yell at you though.”

Mason pulls a face as he climbs to his feet. He sticks a hand out to help her up but she slaps it away with a laugh. “I don’t need your help.”

“Sure you don’t. So where are we going?”

“There’s this amazing place down in the wards Maddy found…”

--

Mason is eying the brightly colored concoction that Marie swears black and blue is maple flavored ice cream coffee suspiciously as they’re strolling through the market area of the wards when the fight breaks out.

Marie stops dead in her tracks, eyes wide.

“….Isaac?!”

[nurseofren]

A Saturday in New York

Relationship: Charlie Barber x Reader

Words: 2100

Summary: Saturday mornings with Charlie are usually spent running around doing errands and catching up with friends. Not this one, though, not if you have any say in the matter.

Tags: PIV sex, cowgirl position, praise kink, delayed orgasm, starts and ends with fluff.

ST Rambles: I read a piece by @thetorturerwrites yesterday and it got me in the mood for Charlie. Why do all my fantasies happen in the morning? Very strange given I detest waking up early. Maybe I’m projecting, who knows? Anyway, here’s this. I have never written daddy kink and don’t really know if this is it because it’s so tame but whatever. I think this is also the first time I’ve written Charlie as well, so just a lot of firsts here haha. Hope you enjoy (:

--

Flutters of muffled traffic trickled into the fourth-floor apartment window, left open last night to permit the breeze of a New York autumn. Every few minutes or so you’d hear the ring of a bike bell, the bark of a startled pup, or the lightheartedness of a child’s giggle. It was a Saturday morning in the city and many were spending it out and about, getting an early start to their planned activities before the bustle of the day set in. But, in the soft light of the bedroom, the organza curtains blowing in the wind’s rhythm, you knew there was no place you would rather be.

A comfort of breath swelled into stiff lungs, Charlie’s scent warming into you just as the sun left heated stripes on the comforter. You’d woken nearly ten minutes ago, but instead of jumping into routine, you decided to take this unusual occurrence in stride.

Charlie was never one to sleep in, always running around chasing projects and ideas. His mind was beautiful and brilliant, but it was a hindrance to have so many thoughts and so little time, leading him to always wake before the sun. But today was different. He was still fast asleep, dreaming away just below you. With a gentle nature, you led the tip of your finger down his sternum and watched as his lips twitched, stopping when you thought you’d take him from peace.

A soft smile played at your mouth, the sight of his brow creasing bringing a skip to your heart. This was the most relaxed you’d ever seen him, and with your head propped on his chest, chin resting on his lowest rib, you let yourself believe that you had something to do with it. There was a security your presence offered him, a safety that allowed him to indulge in an excess – however small – of rest. The thoughts bloomed through you, your lips pressing to his bare chest in silent gratitude.

Closing your eyes for just a second, once more pressing your face against him, you heard tiny grunts bubble into his chest, little attempts at words rumbling against your ear. He was in the throes of an intense dream, his fingers even twitching against your hip while the sounds came quicker and clearer. The happiness this brought you made it hard not to giggle, but you bit down on your lips and quelled the need, not wanting to wake him.

Listening more closely, you found the beginning of every grunt was that of the first letter of your name, drawn out and fuzzy. You stiffened, eyes opening slowly as if it would help you focus on the sound. Three starts fell to nothing, but the fourth sent shivers down your spine; his low, tired voice was needy as it stumbled through the beginning of your name, finishing the rest in a whispered pronunciation.

He was sleeping through his internal clock, so peaceful and safe, and it was because of you. The knowledge nearly made you shoot up, but you only allowed yourself a slinking effort to crawl up to his face, a ginger choreography to bring him closer. Just one last moment you spent peppering awed, sublime eyes over each fluid feature, basking in his presence as he dreamt of yours.

With closed eyes and intentional frailty you pressed your lips to his, sensitive skin just barely brushing against his. As you held yourself back, though, the same need you’d heard in his unconscious plead found you, lighting your skin with a fervor to meet him halfway, to lead him into morning just the same as he was evading it.

Bringing your hand to his cheek you painted thumb strokes under his eye, your other hand pushing you up and supporting you while you dragged a bent knee over his lap and straddled him. Two starving hands fled into his hair in search of him while parched lips moved into his stillness. An indulgence of air came into Charlie’s nose, a shudder of his chest moving below you while your hands lifted his head to you, pulling him simultaneously from slumber and from his pillow.

It was obvious the instant he came fully to, a yearning grunt moving past his lips and onto yours, his own hands now gripping onto your hips, needy pushes of breath warm on your cheek while he allowed you to caress his head. Large hands skimmed over glittering skin, sliding up your bare curves and finding your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples while gasps left you. Two toothy smiles met, now, both of you thankful for the others need.

Keeping his head held, you parted from him and pressed your forehead to his, biting your lip and reveling in the warmth his nearness provided.

“Good morning, handsome.” It was more a sigh of relief than anything.

Charlie hummed and shifted his hips, hands pushing on yours to grind his new erection into you. “Mm, it is.”

Leaving his head and trailing down his chest, he relaxed back into the pillow, watching you situate yourself so the tip was placed at your entrance. The muscles beneath his soft abdomen tensed tight with each surprise bite of your nails as you leaned up from him, back now straight. His hands fell back to your hips, now sliding up and down the tops of your thighs, thumbs massaging the tissue of your inner thighs. Maybe not purposefully, but there was a slight pressure in his hold, impatience obvious as you circled your hips around his positioned cock, teasing him just a little and watching it build in his gaze.

“You were dreaming of me.” A smirk cast down to him.

“I think I still am.” Grogginess grated against his throat, lungs still trying to wake up.

The words registered both in your ears and your core, a knowing brow hitching on his pleased face. Catching his hands while they were on your waist, you pulled them up and interlocked your fingers with his. Keeping his gaze, he tensed his arms so you could push down onto them while you lowered yourself onto him, feeling every impossibly thick inch force against your walls and fill you. A groan left Charlie’s plush lips as you took him in completely, letting him feel the way you throbbed for him for a few seconds, clenching onto him and feeling his fingers grip tighter into your hands.

When you brought your hips back up, steadying yourself with his hands again, you ached while he left your center, body clamoring to pull him back in. A seethe sprayed spit into the rising sun, falling onto the expansive muscle below. Sinking back down you began to find a rhythm, gyrating on top and squeezing his hands, feeling him deep within you. It stole your breath, looking at his features shift with each bounce, hearing his breath heighten and watching his cheeks flush as desire rooted in his blood.

When you felt comfortable and steady you led his hands back to your breasts, placing his palms over your nipples and pushing your chest into them. Keeping pace, your drive towards pleasuring him blatant, you lifted your arms to undo your hair, allowing the strands to slowly fall from their bedhead collection, observing the way Charlie reacted with a groan, half-lidded eyes, and a tighter grip over your chest.

“God, you’re so gorgeous,” he said, voice evident of and saturated in his need for you.

The praise parted your lips, a mewl leaving as you quickened your pace, reaching down to sate the electric need of your clit. Charlie stopped you before you could, blocking your hand and pressing his thumb against the raised nub, an instant shock of pleasure igniting and falling into a sweet swell of skin-singing bliss. Coming down harder and faster you felt your core pulse around him, the feeling sending your head back and arching your chest into his hand.

“Oh, yes, yes,” you moaned, jaw now slack, “yes, don’t stop. Never stop.”

The thrumming of your pussy around his cock was obvious in the way his breath caught, his hips now driving upward, meeting your bounces with fast thrusts. Within you felt release coming, your legs stiffening around him, abdomen tightening and sweat beading where your skin met his. Fast breaths chorused in the early morning, huffs and pants heavy between you and him.

“You’re doing so – God – so good,” he could barely separate his words. “Don’t cum yet.”

Fire swallowed you at his instruction, a pitiful whine leaving in its wake. “Charlie, no, please.”

It was becoming increasingly difficult to stave off release, your bounces jagged and without pattern, fingers biting into his hips while you leaned forward. He was trying to keep his own eyes open, to watch you obey him, to see your need singe into you as he came closer to his own climax. Though he’d told you not to cum, his thumb was burgeoning into your clit without mercy, every swift stroke earning building a deep moan in your throat, your body hanging on by less than a strand of will.

“Just a little longer.” The tension in his voice proved he was holding on as well, his release bludgeoning his body just the same as yours.

Hair stuck to the sweat at his forehead, his teeth gritted as he continued to buck into you, desperation heavy and surging in the air, no sounds registering but those of squelching skin and pleading breaths. The same as you, Charlie couldn’t form words, and when he shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut you knew he was signaling permission.

The first to cry out was him, a frenzied gnarl of curses coming in the form of prayers; his hands thrashed into your curves as you joined him in bliss, finally feeling the harmony you’d built sink into you with a rapturous heat, an insurgence of immense glee splaying over your skin in the presence of release.

Falling forward, still slightly bouncing on his lap, you clashed into his mouth. Two pairs of fumbling lips found each other in the blinding euphoria, each gifting the other with groans of praise, high-pitched moans vibrating into each other until all that was left were two people at a loss for words, thoughts, and reality.

Limp limbs fell over him, the feeling of his tiding chest in tune with his gluttonous breathing acting as the melody of your afterglow. Sweat-slick skin melded your body to his, your lips now pressed into the crook of his neck while his fingers drew mindless lines up and down your back.

“You did so well, little girl.” He swallowed, your periphery catching sight of his bobbing throat. “Always a good girl for daddy.”

Slipping off of him, your leg rested over his, foot locking under his knee; a sated hand dragged a lone finger down his sternum again, eyes fixated of the way it lifted in sequence with his swelling chest.

“Let’s stay here. All day.” You propped your chin up onto his shoulder, gaze  concentrated on the way he regarded you with an impossible amount of adoration.

“Mm, all day?” It was a low rumble, reluctance fading from him.

“We can order in—” the tip of your finger trailed down from his clavicle to his xiphoid process “—and we can keep the windows open—" trailing further down his abdomen you circled around his navel, pressing a light kiss onto his tricep, keeping your eyes with his “—and we could watch a movie—” your finger found his happy trail and pulled gently “—or we could just, you know—” following in your path, you watched his jaw flex when the tips of your fingers found the hot flesh of his cock, grazing over it until grasping around him and making a single stroke “—not watch a movie.”

Momentarily he bit at his bottom lip, cheeks tense as a smile bloomed and a breathy laugh left. “I’m not gonna get any work done today, am I?”

A string of giggles filtered from your lips as you pulled yourself back on top of him, flourishing his face with fast kisses, his hands coming to weave into your hair. Finally stopping and looking down at him, seeing the acceptance in his eyes, you pressed one long, firm kiss to his lips before you pulled back again.

“What’re you thinking for breakfast? Sweet or savory?”

Charlie brought you back in to press another kiss to your lips, his tongue sliding onto yours before his head dropped back to the bed.

“Sweet. Definitely sweet.”

[mistersshelby]

the woman assassin | part seven

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN

wow it has been a Minute, i’m really sorry for the wait, i’ve had the craziest writing block but i decided with the new year i’m going to try and write everyday even if it’s just a little bit and it has REALLY helped with my block and i’ve realized that i have a problem with like when things get hard just kinda stopping writing and seeing it as a sign that my writing is bad but i don’t think that’s the case i think i just need to start forcing myself to work through the blocks. but anyway, here’s part seven, pls let me know what u think!! i love hearing from you guys!! and thank u for all the sweet messages while i’ve been away

p.s. i’m starting to cross post on wattpad to widen my audience so if you have wattpad account and want to give it some love over there that u can follow this link! i only have the first chapter up there right now but i’m gonna update it to post the remaining six so that it’s caught up

“Tommy.” Polly says sharply as everyone files out of the family meeting. Clara turns to look back, but after a pointed look from Tommy, she too, files out. “Are you sure about this?” Polly asks as the door swings shut behind Clara.

“Polly, I don’t need you questioning me as well--”

“Lizzie’s concern is purely out of jealousy and we all know that, as is Michael’s.” Polly cut in, “I just worry that you’re allowing some silly attraction cloud your judgement, you remember when Grace betrayed you--”

“Please, don’t.” Tommy ground out.

Polly paused, “I know you loved her and I was sad to see what became of her, but I don’t want you to make the same mistake--”

“This is not that, Pol. I assure you, there is nothing between Clara and I beyond fucking, alright?” Tommy snapped. Part of him knew he was lying. He didn’t think he was in love with Clara, but it was pretty clear to him now that there was something more between them than just physicality. But he lied, conscious of the fact that he would not have done half the things he’d done and risked for Clara for anyone else.

“You should marry Lizzie.” Polly said after a moment.

“I won’t have this discussion again--”

“It doesn’t have to be for love, Tommy, she’s the mother of your child, it’s the right thing--”

“She will be miserable with me. I don’t love her, nor will I ever.”

“But she loves you.”

“Well she should bloody well get over that then. I’ve provided for her and Ruby well enough, there is nothing more between us.”

Polly watched him for a moment before turning her back on him, “You’re making a hell of a lot of mistakes lately, Thomas. You should try listening to your family for once.”

***

Tommy cocked the gun, aiming for Adrian who was strangling Clara. He could hear her gasping for breath. But when Adrian turned around to face Tommy, it wasn’t Adrian at all, but Lizzie who was crushing Clara’s windpipe. A smooth smirk on her face.

Before he could react, Tommy was pulled out of his dream. Taking in his surroundings, it took a few moments to realize he was in Clara’s bed and she was the one who was waking from a nightmare, which had pulled him out of his own dream.

“Clara,” He lightly touched her shoulder, not wanting to startle her.

She bolted up in bed anyway, her chest heaving, clawing at her chest as if to give the oxygen a clearer path.

“It’s okay, it’s alright, it’s just me,” Tommy said calmly when she realized there was someone next to her and reached for the gun under her pillow.

She dropped the gun, still breathing hard, and then the tears began to flow. Tommy was unsure at first if she even wanted him to comfort her, he knew when he woke up from his dreams he felt deeply humiliated if there was someone else in the room. So hesitantly, he reached out to hold her and she fell into his arms quite easily. As if they had done this several times before. So he pressed his cheek to her hair and rubbed her back, repeated soothing words in her ear, but her breathing did not slow.

“It’s raining,” He murmured, “Let’s go outside.”

“W-What?” She managed, pulling away from him.

“The water and the rhythm of the rain will calm you, I do it all the time.” It took a bit of coaxing, but he got her out of bed, they both dressed and then tiptoed down the stairs of her apartment out into the street. Clara stood, her face up to the sky, and let herself be drenched. She thought of nothing but the rain, the sound of it bouncing on the road and the windows above.

Tommy watched her, as slowly, her mouth turned upwards into a grin, and then she started laughing. She looked beautiful out in the rain. It was hard for him to remember that she was an assassin as she laughed like a child as the water drenched her. Clara turned to see him watching her and then walked into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He was a bit thrown off by the intimate gesture, but eventually wrapped his arms around her shoulders, resting his head on hers. Her warmth filled him and he felt at peace for the first time since Grace died.

***

Clara’s hands shook only slightly as she loaded the revolver, stuffing extra bullets in her boots.

“The boys will be waiting for you at the perimeter like you asked. If you are not in and out safely within twenty minutes, I’ve ordered them to go after you.”

She turns to see Tommy, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he buttoned his shirt. He had been staying with Clara nearly every night the last few days, but neither of them spoke about what it meant. She turned away to hide the warmth that entered her face at the sight of his chest and tattoos that peaked beneath his shirt.

“I told you, I don’t need babysitters.”

“And I told you that I’m in charge and I won’t have your life recklessly endangered.”

Clara turned back to him, “Who stops you from recklessly endangering your life, eh?”

He smirks, but his eyes remain cold, “When you’ve lost everything good in your life there’s nothing left to endanger.” Tommy turns to leave before she can respond, “Don’t fuck this up.” Is his parting request before he slams the door behind him.

She stares after him for a few moments before shoving more knives in her boots and heading out herself, trying to calm her nerves.

***

The truth was, Clara was afraid to face her family. She hadn’t killed anyone since before Adrian and the way she froze up in front of him, nearly allowing him to kill her, still haunted her nightmares. What if she froze again? There were three of them and only one of her. 

“You don’t come in unless I signal you.” She told Tommy’s men while they stood outside the building.

“Tommy said--”

“This is my mission. I’m going in there to kill my family. You don’t come in unless I say you do.” She reiterated, “Understood?”

They all smirked at her and chuckled, “We mean no offense lady, but Tommy pays us, not you.”

Clara smirks back before quickly grabbing one of their arms, twisting and forcing her knee up into his crotch hard before pulling a knife to his neck. It all happens in a few seconds, the other two boys stare aghast, not even thinking to pull their weapons, “How about this then,” Clara says, still pushing the knife against the boy’s throat, “I see any of you fuckers in that house before I signal it I will shoot you point blank. Do we understand each other now?”

They all nodded quickly and she released him, adrenaline flooding her veins, she felt her confidence return to her. She was still capable of killing, she knew as she held that boy that one flick of her wrist would end him and it had filled her with seductive power. She could do this.

She walked away from the boys, leaving them staring after her as she sauntered into Alfie’s, trying to blend in with the crowd. There were few women there though, so Clara abandoned her plan of socializing until she found her cousins and instead began to blend into the shadows. She took note of the high ceilings, the rafters above them. She quickly snuck out of the large room to find a way up to the rafters. Soon enough, she found a ladder in an empty shaft. 

Once at the top, she realized there were more people here than she expected, more people who could possibly whisper to her cousins that she was here. She tried not to let the panic set in, but she could feel the cold sweat building, damp on the small of her back as she scanned the people, looking for her cousins. She needed to get out of here. 

Watching all the people mill around, she also was unsure that she would be able to hit her cousins from up here without harming anyone else. “Shit.” She murmured, and decided to climb back down the shaft, but when she turns, one of her cousins is below her, smiling with his gun pointed up at her.

“Hello there, cousin. Fancy seeing you here.”

Though in shock, Clara manages to kick his gun from his hand as he pulls the trigger, making the bullet ricochet in the shaft until it hits his wrist. Clara doesn’t wait, she slams the heel of her boot in his face, spraying blood as he yells in pain and falls from the ladder. Clara quickly jumps down and grabs him by the arms, dragging him to a secluded room before dropping him. 

He’s still groaning in pain, cradling his wrist. She kicks him in the ribs and feels some satisfaction at the way he cries out. There’s a sick part of her that calls out, wants to take out her knife and carve him up like a butcher. It was inconceivable that just weeks ago she trembled while holding a gun to Adrian, now instead of being afraid that she would freeze up and not get the job done, she was afraid of going too far. She kicks him again instead to curb the desire, but she only feels more of a rush when she hears his ribs crack beneath her feet and he begs her, “Please, Clara.”

“How did you know I would be here?”

He takes too long to answer and she takes out her knife, he cowers just from the sight of it. Coward, he disgusts her. “Alfie warned us, said he would let us have you as long as he got a turn with you before we were done.” The things men would do for a chance to get their cock warm, she felt nauseous thinking of what could happen to her if she didn’t get out of here. Fucking Tommy was right, she should have taken the men in with her. 

Her cousin still lays on the floor begging her for his life while she’s thinking, pulling her from her reverie. She cocks her head as she watches him, fascinated. The way a toddler watches a slug as they pour salt over the creature. She raises her knife again and quickly leans over, slashing his throat before he has time to react. The blood splatters on her face, but she doesn’t seem to notice, still watching as he claws at his throat, blood bubbling from his mouth. 

She stares at him as the light ebbs out of his eyes, distracted by the power that blooms in her chest. It’s the mistake that will bring her down, because she doesn’t hear her cousin come in behind her. She spins almost a second too late, and he pulls the trigger. 

Shouts ring out after the gunshot resonates through the building, “Fuck.” Clara murmurs. She only takes a second to look at the bullet hole in the wall, only inches from where she had been standing, before shoving aside her cousin and running out the door. She hears the agonizing roar of her cousin as he takes in his brother dead on the floor, she doesn’t have much time. She moves into the crowd, trying to blend in, keeping her gun close to her chest. She needs to get out, she has to abandon the mission if she wants to get out of here alive. As she goes, she spots the back of Alfie and shoves him, unable to stop herself from calling him out, “What the fuck did you do?”

He looks at her and chuckles, “A pretty lass like you should have stayed home making babies with her husband instead of trying to play at the games of men.”  

This was about her rejection, the fragile egos of men, she felt her face warm with rage, “You stupid horny bastard--”

She doesn’t have time to finish her sentence as someone grabs hold of her collar and rips her back away from the crowd. Before she can turn around to see who holds her, there’s a gunshot. The sound echoes through the room before she realizes she is the one who’s been shot. She doesn’t feel pain, but feels the warmth of blood as it soaks the back of her dress. As she falls to the floor, her cousin smiles down at her and the edges of her vision grow fuzzy. She knows she must be dying. He leans down close to her ear and says, “Thomas Shelby can’t save you now.” And he spits on her before her vision goes black. 

***

Tommy approaches the boys who stare at the building that has erupted in chaos before them, looking back and forth from the cacophony to each other in question. “She told you not to come in, eh?”

“Mister Shelby she threatened to shoot us--”

“It’s alright, boys. You’ll still get your pay.” And then he walked into the fray that he had orchestrated. 

All of Alfie’s guests had fled, but Tommy still walks slowly through the building, pushing open the door to a small room. There’s a body of a man, Clara’s cousin. Looking closer, Tommy can see Clara played with him for a while before slashing his throat. It was always a game to her, it was why she made so many mistakes. He left the room and saw more bodies spread apart on the floor, two were men with single gunshot wounds to the head. Tommy knew this was the work of the Russians, just as he had asked. 

***

One Day Earlier

“Thomas Shelby, you have quite the reputation around here.”

Tommy sat across from the head of the Russian family, Ivan Sokolov. His accent was heavy, he had long blonde hair that he slicked back, and eyes the color of storm clouds. When Tommy offered him a cigarette he refused, opting to chew on the tobacco leaves instead, a habit Tommy found particularly off-putting. “Spare me the niceties, I’m looking to make a deal with you. Your presence is making some people around here particularly nervous. I have been asked already to find a way to remove you from the territory, and believe me, it would not be difficult for me to arrange.”

Ivan sat back in his seat before spitting in a spittoon. Tommy did nothing to hide his disgust. “Does my presence make you nervous, Mister Shelby?”

Tommy shrugged, “I mind my own, I pay no mind to others until they become an inconvenience to me and then I take care of it. You don’t interfere with my business, I have no problem. Unfortunately, the Jews have already become quite restless with your presence and so have asked for my help to root you out. I will honor my word.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because Mister Solomons has a tendency to betray me, so this time, I will not make the mistake of trusting him again. If you want my protection, I ask only for a small favor in return. If not, I will remain true to my word.”

Ivan chews on the tobacco leaves contemplatively for a few moments before speaking again, “What is the favor you ask?”  

***

Slowly, as if he knows what he’s about to find, Tommy’s eyes landed on the third body. Clara. His knees practically gave out when he saw the amount of blood that pooled around her. His mind immediately shot back to Grace. He had done it again, he had put her in danger, made her a part of his scheme without telling her and now she was going to die here. “Clara.” His voice shook as he knelt beside her, putting a hand to her cheek to try and wake her. She was still warm. He pressed his fingers to her neck, almost too afraid of what he’d find, but he felt a faint thrum against the pads of her fingers and his breath shuddered through him violently.

“You made a deal with the Russians.”

Tommy looked up at Alfie and stood, regaining his cool composure, conscious of the fact that if he did not get Clara out of here soon, she would be gone. “I made a backup plan for when you inevitably betrayed me. You fuck me, I fuck you. Simple.”

Alfie nods then looks down at Clara, “Could you get her out of here? She’s staining my floors. Very porous material, wood. Pain in the arse to clean.”

Tommy keeps one eye on Alfie as he bends to scoop Clara into his arms. She grunts as he moves her and the sound fills him with relief, “Are you going to try and kill me while I have a woman bleeding out in my arms or am I free to go?”

Alfie looks around and shrugs, “I’d say we’re even, don’t you think, mate?”

If Clara died, Tommy decided then and there he would kill Alfie. But for now… “Goodbye Alfie. Always a pleasure.”

And he turned and walked from the building, trying to ignore the way her blood trickled down his arm as he carried her. It was good she was still bleeding, he tried to reassure himself, it meant she still had a pulse. He placed her in his car as gently as he could and then sped away, only then allowing the panic to seep through his cracks just a little bit. He kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye to detect movement, but she was impossibly still. 

It felt like hours until Tommy reached the hospital, skidding into the courtyard. He ran with her in his arms and yelled for help until someone put her on a stretcher and left him there, his forearms drenched in blood, the floor spotting with it. He sat and waited for hours. He didn’t wash off the blood, waving off well meaning nurses who approached him with wet towels. What if it was the last time he would have anything of Clara’s on him? The last way he could touch her?

Eventually Polly showed up, having grilled the boys who had waited outside the building on where Tommy went. They sputtered out that they saw him leave with Clara in his arms and she didn’t look well. Polly looks torn between lecturing Tommy and trying to comfort him, but Michael barrels in soon after, his eyes wild as they land on Tommy’s blood drenched arms, “Where the fuck is she? What did you do to her?”

Polly immediately stands between them, but Tommy doesn’t move to defend himself, “Michael, now is not the time, go take a walk,” Pol says lowly through clenched teeth.

“I told her, I fuckin’ told her if she didn’t stay away from you you would ruin her.”

Tommy looks up and his eyes are cold and empty, “So what, Michael, do you feel like a big man now because you were right?”

Michael shakes his head, his face red with unadulterated fury, “When all this is done, I swear to God, Tommy, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes while you sleep.”

“Michael.” Polly said sternly in warning, hospital staff were looking over now.

Tommy was trying hard to keep his temper leashed, knowing it was only being amplified by his panic at the idea of Clara not walking out of the hospital, but he couldn’t resist the retort that left his mouth, “I hope you can see well in the dark, you might hit Clara by mistake.”

Polly wasn’t able to hold Michael back this time when he barreled through her looking to punch Tommy, but Tommy grabbed his wrist and twisted hard before using his other fist to pummel Michael in the jaw. The hospital staff was already calling the police, Polly was yelling, and Tommy leaned down to whisper in Michael’s ear, “You can try all you like Michael, but you’ll never be me. And Clara will never love you. S’time to grow up and stop throwing these temper tantrums. The day you raise a pistol to me, after everything I have given you, it’ll be your last day in this world.” And then he walked out of the hospital before the police could arrive to drag him out.

tag list:

@mariamermaid @gingertaurus @tommy-scum @lil-black-heart @wildmavs @unrulyhealy @shadow-of-wonder @trash-can-beebo @alyciaswhore @godsaverosemary @parochialism @zazasblogxx @randommostlypotter @julietswildchild @sunsetsandbooks @thetrappednerd @deliciouspsycho @l0tsofpennies @lucy-xxxo @imnotuglyimjustpredebut @annabethgranger123​ @shannonmcc212​ @urbansaint​ @soulslaststand​ 

[yuna-dan]

Only the Ocean (Ch. 1)

Chapter One: La Canción del Pirata

Previous Next

AO3

I wanna thank my bestest friend and beta @awkwardkindanerd​. I really love how this chapter turns out but it was all thanks to her.

Anyways, I hope y’all enjoyed it. If you wanna listen to the song that inspired this chapter click here

--

Summary of the Ch: That night Logan dreamed about living a pirate’s life, and the next day he was decided to begin a new life as a pirate. 

Warning for this chapter: Slight violence. Alcohol Mention.

---

Logan didn’t remember a lot of his childhood. There wasn’t a lot to remember really, growing up in a foster house wasn’t exactly a great experience. 

Logan’s favorite memories were of the times in which the nannies would take all the kids to the beach, and he would spend all day just sitting on the shore listening to breeze of the ocean. 

The physician said that since he was abandoned near the sea, he associated the idea of family to the sea. Logan didn’t think it was true. The ocean did provide him with certain calm, but he believed it was because of the sounds it produced. He didn’t think it was something deep, he just liked the sea, big deal. If a bourgeois kid says that they like the sea, the small kid would probably be constantly flattered about how intelligent and curious they were.

So, Logan went on with his life, paying for his damn studies, because he wanted nothing more than to investigate the wonders beneath the sea. He was eighteen years old when he was invited to join a royal ship’s crew.

After almost a year of working there, he abandoned the idea. The Crown didn’t care about the life and surprises behind the blue waves, no. They wanted to exploit every damn resource they could find, and Logan wasn’t going to be part of it. He had already told the captain of the ship that he was leaving on the next port, so now he only had to wait.

The nights were always the worst. He wanted to cry so badly, but he didn’t want the crew to listen to how defeated he really felt. It was then, while holding back tears, that he heard a soft humming coming from the deck. He was an intelligent man, but also a very curious one, so he put on his boots and followed the humming to one of the sides of the ship.

The air felt nostalgic, almost as if the sea was saying goodbye to him. He chuckled, that idea was ridiculous, even for a sea enthusiast like him. He leaned on the wood, feeling the breeze hitting his face and his glasses getting dirty.

He thought of jumping, filling all his pockets with something heavy, and never look up. While this sinister thought crossed his mind, the humming became clearer and suddenly the transfigured into words being sung. Que es mi barco mi tesoro, Que es mi dios la libertad, Mi ley, la fuerza y el viento, Mi única patria, la mar. 

Logan abruptly stood up, panting heavily. The words once again turned into a soft humming. “I am exhausted; I must be imagining things,” he said, trying to convince himself. He couldn’t, but he decided it had been a dream.

The next day, Logan went to a pub to try and forget the fact that he spent almost a year working with the Crown. The payment had been good though, so once he found a place to sleep, he went directly to get a drink. The pub was full of marines, fishers and pirates, each of them minding their own business. This was a town near the shore, so of course it was full of people made a living thanks to the ocean.

Logan couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. 

He was moping around, sipping a beer, when he heard a familiar melody: the same rhythm of the song he had dreamed about. “Olas de plata y azul; y ve el capitán pirata,” was singing the bartender while he cleaned some dishes.

“Excuse me?” Logan got the attention of the young man, who looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “That song…uhm?” The alcohol was hitting him, and he couldn’t blame anyone but himself. He knew he didn’t have a high resistance to alcohol and yet...

“It’s an old pirate song, from my hometown,” the bartender answered with a thick accent and continued doing his work.

Pirates, huh. 

That night Logan dreamed about living a pirate’s life, and the next day he was decided to begin a new life as a pirate. If the Crown hadn’t cut it, he would try betting on the other side of the coin. At first, he fantasized of buying a ship, getting a crew and just sailing off into the sea. That idea was tossed really quickly, however, when he realized that no one was going to trust him, since he wasn’t precisely a strong man. Besides, he didn’t want to be a pirate captain, he just wanted to be in the ocean and fucking investigate.

Well, for now he had to get used to life in this town.

--

Two years passed quickly for everyone in that small town, for everyone expect for Logan Sanders.

By then, Logan had probably asked more like begged every freaking pirate that went through this town to let him join the crew. Yes, he may not know how to fight, but he was a good strategist, and he could even clean the ship. Most of them would just laugh right in his face and brush him off, others would make him scrub the deck spotless and then spit something like we’ll let you know.

Logan got it, really. He wasn’t a muscular, strong man, but it wasn’t solely his fault. When you grow up in a foster home with twenty other mouths to feed, you can’t exactly eat to your heart’s content. Of course he wasn’t going to grow tall, he thanked the gods for not being sickly.

Logan’s money was starting to dry up. Most of the time, when he needed money to pay for the small room he slept in, he would gamble in the pub. It was laughably easy, since most of the people who gambled there were pretty drunk, and Logan was good at it. Actually, that was how he knew he was good at developing strategies; he had never used them in combat, mainly because he didn’t fight, but if he was good at tricking men twice his size, then he couldn’t be that bad a strategist.

He was on his way to the pub when he surprisingly made out an unknown ship tied in the dock. He smiled bitterly, thinking that maybe he would ask its captain eventually, but he already felt defeated. He sighed, and then the soft melody started. 

It was odd, yes. Logan knew he was probably going crazy, but ever since his last time on board, he could hear a soft hum coming from the sea. It started always at the same hour, like a sweet bell indicating the moon would soon come out to greet him. He found it comforting, for some reason. He also knew that it was probably just him imagining things.

He hummed along and went into the pub.

---

Deceit sighed for what it felt like the millionth time. He really loved Patton, he would kill anyone for him, but he was so-

“We can just ask them, right?” He sighed again.

-childish and so innocent for a pirate.

“Enlighten me, please,” Dee said, “How would you ask someone to please let us steal all their money?” He hissed.

Patton pouted, “You don’t have to be mean, you know.”

Deceit was about to call it a day. I am sorry, my Captain, we don’t have money due to our inability to create a plan and Patton being, well, himself. He wondered, why the hell he was paired with Patton? 

Someone cleaned his throat next to them, and Deceit instinctively touch his dual swords. Patton’s hand went to his whip; he preferred a weapon that could hurt but didn’t kill. “Uhm,” The guy showed his open hands, to show he wasn’t posing any threat. “M-mind if I help?” He asked. The guy was tiny, really, probably a few inches shorter than Virgil.

Patton’s soft, pleading eyes laid on Deceit, and of course no one could say no to him, so he just sighed. “That guard has an issue turning on his right side, so if you attacked him from there it’s probably easier to overpower him. That way also you would have direct access to the money, without alerting any other guard and breaking into a fight.” He said, almost too low, as if he was scared. He probably was.

Patton looked at Deceit, who was staring into the guy’s eyes, looking for any traces of a lie. He gave a short nod to Patton when he realized he wasn’t lying. “If somehow this is a trap,” Deceit said, getting closer to the man, “We’ll kill you right here, pipsqueak.” 

The guy gulped hard, “I am not lying,” He took a deep breath, “I give you my word.” 

Deceit stoop up, and signaled Patton to remain there, “Mo, you stay here.”

“Aye, Dee.” He said, “I am not killing him, though.” He added.

“Of course not.” Deceit murmured, clearly annoyed and mumbling to himself. 

--

His plan worked. Of course it did, Logan didn’t have any doubts about its efficiency. -Except he was literally shaking the whole time he sat next to the friendly one- 

Once they saw the one who had his face covered with a thin black cloth approaching the table, the friendly one —Patton, he learned later—, took his hand, stood up and suddenly he was running with the two of them. 

Logan expected the worse. This is how I’ll die. However, once they were far away from the pub, he saw that Patton was smiling. 

“See that, Dee? I told you, violence is never the solution.” 

Dee, Logan assumed, was smirking a little, “You do realize that stealing is not exactly a pinnacle of morality, right?” He said, checking the bag full of golden coins.

“I dunno what that means.” Patton said back, cheerfully.

“It means the peak,” Logan said, trying to catch his breath, “Li…like the culminating po…point,” He was wheezing, trying to breathe again, resting his hands on his knees and trying not to choke, “I-is like saying the goal.”

“Okay buddy,” Patton said, giving him small patpats on his back, “You did a good job.” 

Dee was counting the money inside the bag, “I think our Captain would be satisfied.” He finally said, picking a bunch of coins and throwing them into a small bag. 

“This is for your help, pipsqueak.” Logan looked up, to see Dee handing the small bag to him. 

For a moment he was thought about trading the money for a spot in their crew, since he now realized they were probably pirates from the ship he saw earlier at the dock. He opened his mouth when–

“I think we should keep him.” Patton said. 

Dee didn’t even look at him, “No.”

Patton pouted. Logan actually saw a pirate pouting. “At least we can buy him a drink?” 

Dee stayed silent for a minute. “Remus expects us back at the ship at night.” He sighed, “I guess a couple of drinks won’t affect us.”

Logan looked at Patton, noticing how he was staring at him. “Well, we can’t go back to the pub we just stole from, right? And we’re not from around here so...”

“Right, right. Follow me, I know another place.” 

Logan was about to get drunk with pirates, and he had no idea how that would turn out. 

—

Patton was stumbling his way back into the ship, when he saw Virgil already at the dock. “Vi~” he said, leaving Deceit’s side and running to hug the smaller man. 

Virgil didn’t hug him back, but he did put his hand on his waist to help him stabilize his body. “You are drunk.” 

Deceit chuckled when Remus gave him a questioning look, “Sorry about that, Captain.” He shook his head when he saw Virgil helping Patton into the quarters, “Someone helped us get the money you asked for and, well, you know Patton.” 

“Why did someone help you? Couldn’t handle it alone, Deceit?” He said, with a twisted smile on his face. 

“On the contrary, my Captain,” they started walking into the ship, “Patton didn’t let me.” 

They laughed softly. They walked towards the side of the ship, Remus staring at the water. “Should I be concerned about this person who helped you, Damien?”

Dee wasn’t comfortable when people called him by his name, it was something he had left with his past life. However, when Remus did it, he couldn’t help but feel a light wave of warmth spreading inside his chest. “Not really, my Captain,” he saw how Remus slightly shook his head. “He’s just a pirate wannabe. He’s really clever, if I must say.” 

Remus hummed, and started walking towards his quarters without saying another word. 

-

Logan was drunk. 

Deceit and Patton took him home since he couldn’t even walk straight. He fumbled with the keys of the room and threw himself on his bed. 

He was too drunk to acknowledge the small humming addressing him by his name. “We’ll meet soon, Logan.” 

He was too drunk to realize it wasn’t a dream.

--

Roman was lying near his brother’s ship, smiling to himself.

“I am going to run my precious ship over your obnoxious tail if you don’t tell me what you’re plotting, Roman.” Remus hissed.

Roman just smirked at his brother.

-

Apparenlty Roman can speak Spanish. 

Next Chapter Remus will meet Logan! I am so excited for this fic lol, anyways. Thank you so much for reading it <3

If you wanna be tagged on future fics please reach to this

@theunoriginaldaisy  @cas-is-a-hunter @underthesea73 @mariita-2006 @prinxietyforever @logically-asexual @just-some-gt-trash

[curiosity-killed]

a bow for the bad decisions

canon-divergent AU from ep. 24 (on ao3)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16 | part 17 | part 18

Little Jin Ling has a wealth of uncles. He has, in fact, so many war heroes for uncles that he might as well have an army at his beck and call. Technically, he’s not to be presented for another month, at his hundred days’ celebration, but no one can really blame sworn brothers from visiting each other or siblings from checking in. As it is, Jiang Cheng is more than a little smug about being the only one out of all of them who can soothe a-Ling once he starts wailing. He might be the least powerful of the babe’s uncles, but he still has a shot at being his favorite. Well, alongside Wei Wuxian once he returns, but they always knew they would share the role. Running a featherlight thumb over a-Ling’s cheek, Jiang Cheng pictures Wei Wuxian holding their little nephew and immediately wrinkles his nose. He’ll be horrendous. He’s probably already thought of some absurd gift for a-Ling’s hundred days’ celebration, some toy horse spelled to gallop around him in circles or a kite that doesn’t need a wind to fly. Terrible. He can’t wait to see him. He’s not about to admit it aloud, but as they creep ever closer to the date, Jiang Cheng keeps finding himself picturing it, the three of them reunited with a-Ling cradled between them. “Jiang Cheng, give me back my son,” Jin Zixuan grumbles.

Raising an eyebrow, Jiang Cheng eyes his brother-in-law as if in challenge. He will chew off his own fingers before saying it aloud, but Jin Zixuan is not, perhaps, quite as awful as he’s always thought. Over the last year and a half, he has, somewhat, improved in Jiang Cheng’s eyes. 

He’s still ready at any moment to remind Jin Zixuan that his brothers-in-law wield some of the most powerful spiritual weapons in the cultivation world and are not so far removed from the children who once dunked him, fully robed, in Lotus Pier’s muddiest lake — but he has been trying. He dotes on jiejie and cried a little at their wedding, as he should, knowing how little he deserves a-jie’s love. Besides, it makes jiejie sad when they fight. Reluctantly, he passes over the sleeping baby. “If you wake my nephew—” he starts. “Yes, I know, you’ll break my legs and tell Wei Wuxian,” Jin Zixuan interrupts, but it’s in a whisper so Jiang Cheng lets it go. A-Ling doesn’t so much as stir as he’s passed into his father’s arms; his round face, so often wrinkled with an early scowl, is blissfully serene in sleep. Jin Zixuan pauses, his expression doing something terribly soft and fond as he gazes down at his son. Embarrassed for him, Jiang Cheng turns away. Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen have already left, apparently off to talk about some lofty Lan music or practice with their guqins, but Nie Mingjue stands by the door, arms crossed over his chest. “Jiang-zongzhu,” he says and nods slightly toward the garden outside. Uneasy, Jiang Cheng still nods in acceptance and follows the older sect leader. They’re quiet at first, pacing along the pale paths of the gardens of Jinlintai. “Now that the camps have been reviewed and relocation has begun,” Nie Mingjue says as they round a corner, “it would be beneficial to speak to Wei Wuxian himself.” He’s known this was coming, but Jiang Cheng still has to stifle worry at Nie Mingjue’s comment. Of course they need to speak with Wei Wuxian — but so far, he’s been safest when he’s far from the rest of the cultivation world. They’re walking a precarious line to a peaceful future; the last thing they need is a confrontation, Wei Wuxian caught on the wrong side of the world’s blades. He nods slightly instead of voicing his concerns. “The Wen siblings are the most wanted among the prisoners,” Nie Mingjue continues, “along with Wei Wuxian himself. The destruction of the Stygian Tiger Seal may not be sufficient on its own.” Worry nestles deeper in Jiang Cheng’s chest, chews at the back of his breastbone. He still doesn’t know what to do with the warning Wen Qing gave them. She told them as much as she could in the few minutes she had, but none of it provided a solution. His brother can’t destroy the Seal without killing himself, and the cultivation world will kill him if he doesn’t hand it over. Jiang Cheng knows better than to suggest Wei Wuxian simply give the Seal to Jin Guangshan, but he’s wondered if, perhaps, he would trust Nie Mingjue to lock it away. “I’ve heard talk that the skies over Yiling are clearer now than they’ve been in memory,” Nie Mingjue says, almost a little grudging. “Whatever your errant brother’s doing, if it’s purifying the Burial Mounds, there is a chance that could be claimed as his and the Wens’ debt.” He doesn’t exactly sound enthusiastic about the idea, and Jiang Cheng frowns a little as he considers it. He doesn’t know much of what actually goes on in the Burial Mounds; Wei Wuxian’s letters are usually focused more on ideas for Lotus Pier, as if he can continue to teach their shidis while half a world away. What he does say of the Wen settlement is often idle chatter: how crops are coming in, when they finished building a drying shed, how some of the aunties sewed new robes. Little anecdotes pepper the letters, almost always featuring Wen Qing, her brother, and little Wen Yuan. Grudgingly, he’s resigning himself to the fact that he may have to recognize the boy as his nephew. He should probably talk to Wei Wuxian about bringing him into Yunmeng Jinag; any child of Wei Wuxian has a place among their ranks. His letters come through couriers or traveling parties, fat little bundles of paper brought hand-by-hand to Lotus Pier rather than the messenger arrows of Yunmeng Jiang cultivators. Reading them, Jiang Cheng wonders sometimes if this is how his father felt with Wei Changze on the road. Did his right hand send back reports of Yunmeng and the border towns? Was there the same mix of thoughtful sect business and fond chatter? He doesn’t remember much of Uncle Wei, just flickers of a warm smile and a kind hand on his shoulder. By the time Jiang Cheng was old enough for firm memory, Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren were dead. “I am sure Wei Wuxian would be happy to discuss with you,” he says now. “The group has settled into something that might serve for a more permanent basis.” Nie Mingjue nods. Jiang Cheng hesitates a moment. He’s still not really used to speaking with the other sect leaders as an equal; standing among them, he’s always half-ready to have his ideas laughed down, to be scorned into silence. “There is something else, Chifeng-zun,” he admits, “about the Stygian Tiger Seal.” Nie Mingjue’s brow furrows. As much as he looks up to Nie Mingje, Jiang Cheng has to be careful. All the sects are vying for the same limited power, and Yunmeng Jiang is still healing from the massacre. He can’t give too much away. “There is risk that destroying the seal could be dangerous,” Jiang Cheng says, carefully not saying who would be in danger. “While we are in agreement that it is too powerful an artifact to be kept in an individual’s control, it may be prudent to — contain it, instead. The Nie sect has more experience with resentful weapons than most.” He and jiejie had talked it over before, trying to find some solution. It was hard, in those discussions, not to miss their usual font of ideas, but they’d puzzled out this sketch of a plan at last. Nie Mingjue turns to face him fully, scowl deepening. Jiang Cheng always has a sense of being measured when he does this, as if Nie Mingjue is taking stock of whoever’s in front of him as he faces them. “You would not have one man control it, but you would trust one sect with it,” he says flatly. “Yunmeng Jiang and Qinghe Nie have long held each other’s trust,” Jiang Cheng answers, squaring his shoulders. “We would expect witnesses from each sect for any sealing ceremony as well as Wei Wuxian, as the creator of the Seal.” After another long moment of eyeing him, Nie Mingjue breathes out and drops his arms. His gaze turns out over the gardens, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t think he’s looking at the flowers. “He couldn’t have made it easier on us all by having it only respond to one master?” he mutters. Jiang Cheng’s not sure how serious the complaint is but— “Powerful artifacts are known to develop sentience regardless of their original loyalty,” he points out. Something like annoyance flickers over Nie Mingjue’s face, but he only exhales and doesn’t object. “And Wei Wuxian is willing to except this?” he asks. “I am still his sect leader,” Jiang Cheng retorts. Not that that’s mattered much in the past, but the other leaders could stand to remember it. There’s a moment where Nie Mingjue studies him, almost evaluative. It makes his skin crawl, but he forces himself to stand steady and meet his dark eyes. Finally, Nie Mingjue huffs out a breath and gives a short nod. “Alright,” he says. Jiang Cheng’s eyes widen and he nearly blurts out an incredulous reply but just barely manages to hold it in. Some of his mother’s lessons stuck, after all. “I’ll visit and see the settlement for myself,” Nie Mingjue says. “We can discuss containment and relocation afterwards.” “I will look forward to the discussion, Chifeng-zun,” Jiang Cheng says with a polite salute. He does not break into a grin or pinch himself to be assured that this is working out. There is still plenty of work to do. Nie Mingjue might visit the Burial Mounds settlement and decide no Wen deserves such a living; he might think long on Wei Wuxian’s outburst in Fragrance Hall and decide it is best the Stygian Tiger Seal is destroyed. There are still so many ways it can go wrong. But — but maybe it won’t. Maybe this will work and Jiang Cheng will get his brother back and the world will steady into its rhythms once more. Even if Wei Wuxian has to stay in the Burial Mounds for a little longer, to cleanse them of their resentment and thereby apologize to the cultivation world, it’s not like Yiling is so far away. He’ll be able to visit and if he persuades them to let a-Yuan study in Lotus Pier, Wei Wuxian will have that much more cause to return. He just has to be patient. It’s never been a strength, but there’s only a month till Wei Wuxian will be here for their nephew’s celebrations. He just has to keep everything rowing steadily along for that month, and then they’ll be able to talk. He and jiejie will talk Wei Wuxian out of destroying the seal and, with it, himself, and even if Nie Mingjue doesn’t agree to Nie Sect containing the Seal, surely Wei Wuxian will be able to come up with something else. He’s always been too clever for his own good; what is one more impossible thing? The two of them part, but Jiang Cheng gives himself a moment to stand in the garden and breathe in the soft sweetness of the peonies before he turns back to find jiejie. As much as he’d like to stay and coo over his nephew for the entire month until their brother gets here, he is leader of a sect. There is always work waiting for him.

[artificialqueens]

All I’ve Got To Keep Myself Sane, 2/8 (Jackie/Widow) - Juno

Chapter summary: Jackie is becoming more and more tense as they journey to New Jersey. Widow tries to get some answers from her, but staying awake in the passenger seat is proving difficult.

A/N: Thank you for your support on this. No CWs but there is a lot of angst in this chapter so… yeah. I hope you enjoy part two.

WIDOW

“Queen of Wands – Fire – feisty woman, confidence, passion

The Tower – upheaval, disgrace, liberation

Five of Cups – Water – loss, abandonment, forgiveness.”

Widow read Dahlia’s spidery handwriting for what felt like the thousandth time since she’d gotten out of the car. The meaning of the final reading that Dahlia had given her was becoming clearer. Widow knew the feisty woman was herself, and the upheaval was this moment, more than likely.

It was the last part that troubled her still.

She was still mentally kicking herself for sleeping the entire way down so far. She hadn’t meant to sleep; she’d just closed her eyes to think and the next thing she knew, she was in the middle of the Tuscarora forest. But she reasoned to herself that as she’d had no sleep at all the night before, it was no wonder the metronomic rhythm of the car had lulled her straight to sleep.

Widow dropped her cigarette into the ashtray at the picnic table, wishing it was something a little stronger maybe.

Speaking of which …

She replaced the notebook with her phone, and sent a text to Crystal.

Widow: Crys! I’m hitting u up girl! Gonna be in AC before 7! Xx

Widow had known Crystal since high school, and she was one of the warmest people that Widow knew, even if she never replied to messages within six hours. Widow was sure she’d let her stay if it came to that. Get a job. Maybe even restart her accounting classes next semester, and finally get her qualification.

She checked her savings on her online banking on her phone, the excited twinge she always felt as they grew and grew providing some comfort even now. She didn’t need much more now to have enough to pay for her final year, even though she’d dipped into it this morning, to bring her to AC.

Jackie was walking back over to her on her perch at the picnic table, an uneasy silhouette. Widow internally cringed at her awkwardness, as if she still couldn’t believe she was taking a woman she’d only just met on a trip.

“Can we – shall we get back on the road?”

“Sure.”

Widow brushed the ash from her skirt as she stood, following Jackie silently back to the car.

Jackie insisted on no music for this round of driving, which didn’t make sense to Widow; the constant silence was more unnerving than the music, she thought. But Jackie was doing her a huge favour, and Widow didn’t want to rock the boat, to disturb this woman.

Especially as she seemed to be running away from something. Her face was grimly fixed on the road, her eyes blank and dull, lips pursed.

The warm weather was starting to get to Widow, even with the window wide open. She kicked off her shoes and busied herself wriggling out of her pantyhose, before balling them up and tossing them to the floor of the car.

“That’s better,” she muttered with a sigh. “Just need one more thing to make it perfect.”

Without asking, wondering she could get away with it, she took her cigarettes from her jacket pocket and popped one into her mouth as fast as she could.

Jackie didn’t notice until Widow clicked the lighter.

“What are you doing?”

“Smoking,” Widow replied simply, leaning out the passenger window to blow the smoke. “See, I won’t harm your precious car.”

Jackie’s mouth opened and closed, before that same strange dullness appeared in her eyes once more. “Alright. Cool.”

Widow turned back to face the front, chewing her bottom lip.

Something was going on with this woman.

Jackie had had a blank look on her face since Widow had asked if she’d give her a ride to AC. In fact, Widow had been almost certain she’d refuse. Hell, Widow herself didn’t think she’d do it for someone she didn’t know. And she definitely expected – hoped for, even – a reaction just then in lighting her cigarette, but nothing.

A theory started to form in Widow’s mind. A theory she hoped she was mistaken on. She resolved to try to establish what was going on in this woman’s head. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it hadn’t hurt Widow much in her twenty five years on this planet.

“So, you liked Pittsburgh then?” Widow asked as nonchalantly as she could.

“No.”

“Why not? It’s a great city.”

“It sucks.” Vitriol dripped like poison from the edges of Jackie’s words.

She was so focused on the road that her filter between her mind and her tongue was loosening. Widow had hoped that would be the case. Some people simply couldn’t drive and tell a lie at the same time. Widow had to keep pushing her a little.

“Alright, it sucks,” Widow nodded. Just as nonchalantly, with a shrug, she added “Man trouble?”

“More like woman trouble.”

“Alright. So, what’s her name?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does if you drove all the way here from New York for her,” Widow smirked. “She must be amazing.”

Jackie’s knuckles tightened at the wheel as Widow mentioned New York.

“Girl, don’t panic, it’s on your fucking license plate!” Widow cackled. “What do you do in New York, then?”

“I work in sales, for an IT software firm. Trying to get new deals, new customers.”

“Oh, cool,” Widow nodded. Jackie didn’t sound too enthused about her job.

“What do you do?” Jackie murmured distractedly, her eyes still on the road ahead.

Widow tried to stop the smile from spreading on her face. “You saw me! I worked at a gas station until about three hours ago!”

“Oh, yeah,” Jackie said with a quiet giggle.

“It’s just for now,” Widow continued, “I was studying to become an accountant. Been saving the last year or so I’ve been in Pittsburgh, for my final year. Then I can qualify and join an accounting firm, or something.”

“Yeah,” Jackie murmured.

Her eyes were fixed on the road, and Widow could tell she wasn’t listening any more.

Crystal had always called her boring for being so into her accounting studies, and Widow had always grinned and agreed with her. Maybe she was a little boring, being an aspiring accountant, but she was just a fully-grown Math nerd at heart, and damn proud of it.

It had been her accountant uncle who had encouraged her to start the course after school, and she’d done the first two years back in Kansas City. But Widow hadn’t felt inclined to study, in the year since her mom had passed away. Since she’d moved to Pennsylvania to live with him.

Hastily she pushed the memory aside. It was still too raw.

Widow finished her cigarette and tossed it away, winding her window back up.

The rhythm of the car, combined with the fact she hadn’t had a proper sleep the night before, just turned into background noise as she curled herself into the seat and closed her eyes, falling back into a doze.

——

Jackie stopped for gas again a little way past Harrisburg, a little over an hour from Philadelphia. Widow woke with a start, freed from another one of those dreams which she never quite remembered, but didn’t seem to let her wake up.

She waved some bills at Jackie, but Jackie ignored her as she got out the car.

That riled Widow up, and as soon as Jackie got back in the car, Widow shoved the notes into Jackie’s hand.

“I don’t mind,” Jackie held them back out. “You don’t have to pay me.”

“Hey, I’m trying to pay my way.” Widow frowned. “You don’t need to be like that with me. I’ve got cash. I can pay you for what you’re doing for me.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Widow’s skin was starting to prickle with anger. “Stop feeling sorry for me. I’m not some fucking sympathy case. I’m a grown woman just like you. We all know money is tight, right? Let me contribute.”

“Look I – I don’t need the money. It’s fine. I –“ Jackie mumbled, pushing her hair out of her face, “I don’t need the cash.”

Widow spluttered with the absurdity. “Bullshit. Now you’re being patronising. I don’t need a fucking pity party.”

“I just – it’s fine!”

Widow reclined for a split second at the frantic cry in Jackie’s voice – not an angry sound, but a perturbed one. Widow’s own anger was already starting to fray a little at the edges, never lasting for long; the heat prickling in her skin starting to simmer down. Jackie, on the other hand, looked slightly hysterical.

“I’m sorry, I’m just …” Jackie’s voice shook with emotion as she trailed off. Widow felt it was worth one more push.

“Just tell me what’s going on. You don’t know me; I can’t judge you!”

Come on, Jackie. Tell me. Talk to me.

But Jackie breathed once, twice, and Widow watched the dull, blank veneer creep back over her face, as she folded the money with one hand and put it into her pocket.

“It doesn’t matter. Thank you for the gas money, Widow. I appreciate it.”

Widow turned back to face the road as Jackie started the engine again, and the car purred back onto the highway. Something was definitely going on. But Widow had barely started to contemplate it before the steady rhythm of the car sent her back to sleep.

——

Widow was glad to be awoken from yet another dream by Jackie leaning on her horn, someone leaning back on theirs in front of them. They were stuck in traffic on a road through Philadelphia. Her throat was dry, but she took out a cigarette and lit it up, blowing smoke rings out the window.

It was just gone five before they cleared Philly, and the roads were still a little congested, but Jackie turned off the turnpike, and into a lay-by next to a service station, trees sat all around them.

“What are you doing?” Widow asked tentatively.

Jackie stopped the engine. “Just hungry. I’m gonna get a sandwich.”

“Alright, sounds like a plan.”

Widow stepped out of the car too, following an exasperated Jackie into the building. She picked up a cheese sandwich and paid the assistant, cringing at the similar uniform to Widow’s own, and was back at the car before Jackie arrived.

The wind was picking up the nearer they got to the coast, and Jackie’s dark hair whipped around her as she approached; she held the sandwich up to try to shield her face from her hair.

They got back in the car, sitting in silence once more. Widow had unwrapped her sandwich and had eaten half of it before she noticed that Jackie was staring at her, expression unreadable, having barely touched her sandwich.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just … confused!” Jackie said, her voice rising again.

“Why?”

“You’re – you just got in a car with me, today, and you’re fine with me just taking you across the state?”

Honestly, Widow was as surprised as Jackie was, and more surprised it had taken Jackie this long to even bring it up.

She’d fought with the impulse for a few seconds, back at Pittsburgh, somewhere between the gas station and Donegal. She was in a strange car, with a total stranger. An increasingly intriguing stranger, but still a stranger, someone she had never met until ten minutes earlier. She’d just done all the things she’d always advised her cousins back in Missouri not to do.

She barely understood it herself, but Jackie had put herself in danger too, getting her away from that creep earlier. And it wasn’t like she was planning on making this kind of thing a regular occurrence, anyway.

“People still hitch rides from vans and shit,” Widow muttered finally.

“Do you?”

“No.”

“Then tell me why you’re here. Why AC. And why me. Why do you trust meenough to do this? I don’t get it.”

Widow looked at Jackie, whose anxiety was palpable in the air. She sighed, realising that she would have to give Jackie some sort of explanation to ease her mind a little.

“It’s kind of hard to explain. Atlantic City keeps coming up for me at the moment. My friend Crystal, she moved there back in April. And then me and my friend Dahlia, back in Pittsburgh, did some pendulum work for a meaningful location, and it came through. And when you offered me a ride … well, you said you were going there.”

Jackie was frowning slightly.

“It’s too much of a coincidence. Dahlia did a fortune for me last night. She reads Tarot, has done for years. I only asked you about Atlantic City because the rest of the fortune seemed to ring true. When you said you were going there …” Widow shrugged. “It’s crazy, I know, but it almost felt like this was meantto happen.”

Widow watched as Jackie calmed, her breathing starting to calm, her knuckles no longer white against the wheel.

“You’re right,” Jackie muttered finally, “that does sound crazy.”

But she was starting to chuckle. Quietly, but amused rather than frightened. Widow joined her, and soon they were laughing along with each other.

“I’m sorry for being patronising earlier, too,” Jackie said solemnly, gazing at Widow, but she didn’t need to; Widow could feel her sincerity. “I don’t know why I said that to you. It was rude of me.”

“It’s alright,” Widow brushed her off. “It’s done. Gone. So, can you tell me why you came to Pittsburgh in the first place?” She asked tentatively.

“I –“ Jackie turned to face the front, licking her lips. “This isn’t about me right now.”

“It is.”

“What?”

“Why the hell are you doing this, too?” Widow kept the same quiet tone of voice, a vague attempt to calm the frightened woman before her. “This isn’t just about me. We’re both fucked up.”

“I’m not fucked up.” Jackie’s meagre protest wasn’t fooling anyone, and Widow knew that she knew it.

“This woman, the one you came to see,” Widow said quietly, and Jackie’s sharp inhale told her that she’d hit a nerve. Jackie looked out the front, the hand on the wheel clenching again.

Suddenly, all the lines of thought connected in Widow’s mind..

Something had gone wrong with her, and now Jackie was running from her.

“What’s her name?” Widow asked, the same quiet tone.

“Stop it,” Jackie whispered.

“Just say her name.”

“Stop it.” More firmly this time.

“Get it off your chest, girl.”

“Stop IT!” Jackie’s fists came down onto the steering wheel, the horn blaring, a group of birds scattering, taking flight in the fields before them before settling back.  

Widow watched her helplessly. As she watched, the calm veneer returned to Jackie’s face. The only thing that gave her away were her shaking hands, even as she forced a smile back onto her lips.

“Do you – do you want to carry on then?”

“You can’t drive like that,” Widow motioned to her hands. “We’ll be wiggling all over the highway.” She grabbed one of Jackie’s hands from the steering wheel, holding in a gasp at how cold they were. “Just – just calm down. Take a few minutes to calm down.”

“Jan,” Jackie whispered.

“What?” Widow looked up suddenly.

Jackie clenched Widow’s hand as if she were an anchor, keeping her on the ground.

“Her name is Jan.”

And Jackie broke down.

[dessarious]

Writing Craft: The Complete Handbook of Novel Writing Ch1

AO3   Intro   Next

The Complete Handbook of Novel Writing Chapter 1: Taming the Beast by N.M Kelby

In this article the author compares creating and refining your story ideas to training a dog. I’m going to leave out the metaphor and just give the bare bones of the advice.

The biggest take away from the first section is: “Ideas often start with boundless energy, vying for your attention. But when you get them on the page, they don’t always live up to how you thought they would be” pg. 5

This is a huge issue, especially for new writers. You finally get words on a page but immediately get discouraged because it’s not as good as it seemed in your head and/or your inner critic takes hold and trashes your efforts. (Whether that trashing is justified or not is a moot point) Sound familiar? You’re not alone. Before I get into this specific author’s take I want to throw out a couple ‘standard’ thoughts on the subject.

‘You can’t edit a blank page.’ It’s one of those truisms that make me want to bash my head into a wall whenever I encounter it, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong. Basically try to think of your writing, especially first drafts, as practice. You’re not going to start out perfect but the more you work on it the better you’ll get at it, and by extension the better the piece itself will get. If you come to the table thinking your writing needs to be perfect, you’re just setting yourself up for failure.

‘All art is a work in progress, even when it’s finished.’ I don’t think I’ve seen this stated anywhere but given the number of times I’ve seen authors complain about parts of their published works they wish they’d done differently, I’m just going to throw it out there. Perfection is unattainable and someone will always find fault in what you do. So don’t try and be perfect, try instead to a) be consistent and b) improve your vision. And what I mean by that is develop a writing routine that works for you and make sure when you write and edit you’re making the story clearer for the reader. For first drafts that’s simple because anything you write will be clearer than nothing. (okay, given some of the garbage that’s come out of my head that’s not strictly true but even bad writing is practice on the way to good writing so it’s still useful)

Establish a calm, centered mind

In this section the author gives their thoughts on creating your writing space, writing routine, and not siking yourself out.

“Nonexistent boundaries, unfocused expectations, and lack of routine are the writer’s downfall.” pg. 5

Okay, I’ll agree with this to a point. Especially when you’re first starting out developing your writing habits, and making sure the people around you respect that, can be crucial. However, don’t get so rigid that you can’t adapt to change. Shit happens and you may need to adjust either for life or because your writing needs themselves evolve and change. The best way for you to write right now, may not still be the best way in six months or a year. It’s best not to assume what does and doesn’t work for you now will always be the same. As to the part about expectations… that’s going to be very specific to each author. It’s good to have goals for your writing but if the thought of a specific word count or getting an entire chapter out stresses you out to the point you can’t write, chose a less concrete goal. Anything from I’ll spend at least ten minutes free writing or brainstorming and then see what I can get done on my current WIP to I’ll spend ten minutes thinking about ideas are completely valid. Yes, at some point you want to get words on paper, but forcing yourself to write on demand is a process and it’s usually a bad idea to frustrate yourself to the point you just give up.

The author makes some other points that I’ll summarize: Don’t panic, nothing’s perfect the first time around. Some writing days are better than others, it’s okay to take a break or sleep on it. Don’t place yourself in competitive situations while you’re working on a book. Don’t compare you WIP to the latest bestseller. Write from an authentic part of yourself. Set a pace that works for you and don’t compare it to others. (pgs. 5 & 6)

This is overall good advice in my opinion. The words ‘Don’t Panic’ always bring to mind Hitchers Guide to the Galaxy for me and it’s sound advice. Unless you’re working on a deadline there really isn’t a need to panic, and even then, all it’s likely to do is make things worse.

Some writing days are better than others. This is true no matter who you are. It doesn’t have to mean that your actual writing is bad either. All this means is that some days you won’t be on your A game, at least not for the project you’re currently focusing on. If you need to step away, do it. If you need to work on something else, do that. If you need to completely rework something you already wrote, go for it. Don’t get upset if your brain won’t focus where you think it needs to be. Trust your subconscious to know when you need a breather.

Don’t place yourself in competitive situations. Okay, this one is person specific. Some people thrive off of competition while others shut down completely. You need to feel out what’s best for you but at the beginning it can be one more stressor that sets you up for failure. My suggestion would be to get into a seminormal writing habit before you add something like this into the mix, but again, everyone is different.

Don’t compare you WIP to a bestseller. This should be self evident but almost everyone does it. You think about how much better published works are compared to yours and it freaks you out. The thing about published works is that you don’t see everything that happened before. All the starts and stops and horrible prose that was edited out. It’s the difference between seeing a car for sale at a dealer and seeing it at the beginning of the assembly line in the manufacturing plant. Comparing the two is obviously going to make your WIP look like garbage, at least to you, and that’s not conducive to keeping you excited about your project.

Set a pace that works for you. Basically everything is about what works for you, but in this case it just means don’t compare yourself to authors that put out a book every six months and assume you’re lacking in some way. Especially as a new writer you need to figure out so much before you even worry about pace. Fast is not necessarily good and slow isn’t necessarily bad. Just find your own rhythm and screw anyone who thinks it’s wrong.

Study Your Breed

This section is basically a suggestion that you should figure out the standards that your readers will expect from you in a certain genre so that you know what you can and can’t put in a story. It’s sound advice to a point, and certainly it’s helpful to know what the conventions are before you break them, but this is another one of those issues that’s writer specific.

Yes, if you label a book as a mystery and there’s no mystery people will be a bit peeved. This goes more to story structure in my opinion and some writers my find it constricting to even label their work as a specific genre at the onset, let alone force their writing into a certain mold.

The writer of this article strikes me as a plotter, so if you’re not this may be something you need to look into after you’ve finished a draft to help with getting it published, but if you get stressed out thinking about it before you even start, just ignore it until then. If, on the other hand, you plan everything out in advance, it's very helpful to have genre guidelines to add to your roadmap so you know you’re hitting the right concepts.

Also don’t confuse structure with how you tell a story. The author gives the example of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and Wicked. Two stories set in the same basic world and time with vastly different tellings. Given the same plot, it’s unlikely bordering on impossible that two authors will come up with the same story. (I only say bordering on because someone will find an example of it happening just to spite me if I say it’s actually impossible)

Train Your Focus

This section more than any other is what tells me this Author is a plotter. I had to try and read it a few times before my brain didn’t immediately ‘nope’ out. This is one of those things that I needed to read with the thought that I could implement this in the editing rather than the creation stage, but here’s the jist of the authors advice.

“Everything in the story must work to tell the tale.” Pg 8 Sound advice but this author is talking about making all these decisions upfront and not working on anything that doesn’t fit into your outline. Personally I can’t do that, but it seems rather rigid even for a plotter. To each their own though. She says to brainstorm but when it comes time to write, don’t put things in just because you like them. Again, as a pantser this advice is useless to me until the editing phase when I need to fix things because I’ll have no idea if it advances the story until I’m done with it. For plotters it may make sense to do it this way. I will say that no writing is wasted writing. Even if you can’t use it for what you’re currently writing, save everything because you may find a place for it later. The same goes for research. You took the time to do it so don’t throw it out just because you decided not to use it for one project.

Walk Your Inner Dog

This is basically a summary and example of her advice so far but there are two things that are new.

“While you write a book, it’s art. When you’re finished, it’s business. Never confuse the two.” Pg. 10 In other words, don’t worry about marketability until you’re finished writing. This is a highly contentious subject. Some people will tell you you have to consider marketability from the start, others say that it will destroy what will make your writing stand out. As I’ve never published a book, I don’t have a good opinion, but considering I have an issue with ‘write with the reader in mind’ I’m pretty sure it would break my brain if I was constantly trying to decide if my writing would sell.

From Idea to Page in Four Simple Steps.

“You need to realistically outline and throw out what bogs readers down.” Pg 10 Okay, again, this isn’t something that will work for me in the creation stage but it’s something I need to implement in editing. If you can do it at the onset, it will be less work later, but not everyone can see the story in advance.

Step 1: Always begin with your protagonist. This advice is more about making sure they show up within the first page or so of the story than saying that you have to begin your brainstorming around a specific character. It’s solid advice so that your readers have a character to be invested in at the onset.

Step 2: Establish time and place. This is again for the reader. If they’re wondering where the characters are they can lose focus. I don’t necessarily agree that it’s always necessary but it’s a fair general guideline to follow if you’re unsure.

Step 3: Announce the Stakes. In other words, why should we care? Conflict drives story so the sooner you introduce it, no matter how small, the better in most cases. Not many readers are willing to go through five pages of description before you tell them why any of it matters.

Step 4: Organize. For plotters this happens at the beginning and all the way through. For most pantsers it happens at the end, but eventually it does need to be done.

That’s it for Chapter 1 and I think my thoughts were longer than the actual chapter, so sorry about that. Let me know if this was helpful or if you’d rather I be more succinct.

AO3   Intro    Next

Kofi

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[twoidiotwriters1]

Starcrossed Losers XIV (Josh Wheeler xReader)

A/N: This is officially the largest thing I’ve ever written on tumblr and I’m proud of it. Pardon my use of PUBLIC, the playlist demanded it (not really but I make the rules) I hope you like this chapter!

Words: 8,639

Warnings: Fights, cursing and blood.

Previous chapter // Next chapter

So now that I embrace my new title, things seem easier. Fuck it, I save lives (not really but you know what I mean), I’m creative, people come to me when they have problems normal solutions can’t fix. I’m awesome.

After I help to clean the store, I look for KJ since I’m already running late. I find her... talking with Josh. I analyze the scene, my friend is holding a book and he goes frantically through the pages as he talks to her. Next to me, I hear some ruffling and I see a small figure peaking through the garbage.

“Hello,” I lean over the pile of trash, I hear a yelp, “what are you doing dressed like a piñata?”

“Watching their interaction,” Replies Angelica, “since you’re going with Alex at least Josh seems to finally make up his mind”

“And that’s a victory cause..?”

“He needs the rebound sex!” I can picture her rolling her eyes, “I get it if you’re virgin and don’t want to lose it with Josh-”

“Hey, my thing has nothing to do-”

“He needs a distraction, if KJ can do that for him then I have to kindly ask you to not get involved!”

“What is he holding?” I cross my arms, now just as invested as my friend on the scene unfolding before us.

“A Chinese-English dictionary, he’s trying to speak in her language”

“That’s so dedicated,” I'm touched by his actions, “he doesn’t need to...”

“Let him be a gentleman!”

“That’s not why I said it!” I poke her head, “Anyway, I think you’re wrong. He’s not asking her out.”

“Why do you think that?”

“A hunch,” I shrug.

“Or jealousy?” She says in a suggestive tone.

“You’ll see I’m right,” I start to walk over to where they are, ignoring Angelica’s hurried whispers.

“Hey!” I put one arm around his shoulders, it’s hard since I can barely reach them, “What’s up?”

I see KJ’s eyes widened for a moment, maybe thinking that I’m about to uncover her secret. I wink at her in complicity.

“Hey,” Josh smiles at me, lifting the book so I can see it, “I was asking KJ about her headphones, I think we could use something like that for the noise problem”

“You don’t say,” I pretend to be surprised, KJ snorts but she manages to change it into a sneeze, “Bless you! So uh, tell you what then, you bring as many headphones as you find and I’ll tell KJ about what we’re trying to do. Give me...”

I gently take the book from him and start rummaging through the pages, pretending to look for some words.

“You sure?” He asks, starting to walk away, “You’re the best Y/N! See you in a minute!”

He runs off excitedly, KJ and I start laughing.

“I have to admit, his effort is kind of endearing,” She smiles.

“Just when I think he can’t get cuter, he does this,” I point to the book and leave it on top of the beauty stand.

Ah, fuck. Why I never think before I talk?

“Cuter?” She smirks, “Are you crushing on Josh Wheeler?”

“Are you?” I ask out of pure panic.

“Hmmm, not really,” KJ shrugs, “but... I can’t say that I haven’t thought about it”

“Hah,” Her words sting in my chest, I try to play it off as casual as possible, “the headphones, then. Let’s go over to the stage and see if we can make it work”

“Cool”

Josh comes back with a bag full of headphones and wireless earphones, looking different than the first time we were standing here today.

“You told her?” He asks, carefully leaving the bag on the DJ’s table.

“She’s in,” I smile innocently, “should we start?”

“Yeah,” He nods excitedly, grabbing three sets and handing us one to KJ and me.

“What’s your plan for this super-amazing-legendary Homecoming do-over?” I ask while breaking the package of my earphones.

“Well, now that you mention it...”

Alex passes by and calls out my name, I look up to see what he wants.

“Should I wear a tie or a bow-tie?” He inquires.

“Whatever you prefer Al,” I grin.

“Alright, don’t say I didn’t ask!” He walks away, raising his hands in defeat.

“He’s taking the dance too seriously”

“I think he’s just making sure everything goes according to plan, maybe he’s worried about our matching outfits not really matching or something...”

“Match?” He frowns, “Why would he... oh”

“Oh?” I frown, “What?”

“You’re going with Alex?”

I really wish this question didn’t make me feel so awkward.

“Uh, yes. He asked me today after I went to the pharmacy... it’s his way of fixing things”

“No, I understand,” He scratches the back of his neck, “you... you wanted that, right?”

“I don’t know if I wanted... it feels nice, getting my best friend back like old times”

“Old times...” He nods, now somehow quieter, “I’m happy for you, Y/N”

“Thanks?” I abandon my earphones on the table, “Is everything okay?”

“Huh?” He looks back at me, “I... I was thinking about the last dance I ever assisted to back in Canada”

“Was it fun?”

“Fuck no,” He chuckles, “I never asked any girl so I always went alone. I had this coach that made us dance with a mop to get the extra credits”

“You went with a mop to your last normal dance?” I ask in disbelief.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I wasn’t going to,” I reply, laughing.

“Stop!” He whines, focusing on his headphones, “I’m aware of how shitty that sounds, no need to rub it on my face. I bet you have this really cutesy story of your last dance”

“I went with my group of friends. We refused to ask someone so we all just went together. It was fun.”

“You always did that?”

“I never thought it was a big deal”

“I did,” He shrugs, “I had a plan for this Homecoming... I asked Sam”

“She said yes?”

“She did,” Josh puts the headphones away, “can we not talk about that right now?”

“Totally,” I reply, picking up my earphones.

KJ speaks up (in Chinese) and points to the DJ’s dashboard, then to our headphones.

“I think she’s saying it’s ready for testing,” Josh says.

“Put them on...” I put on mine and Josh follows my lead.

KJ gets closer to me and whispers.

“Connect your phone to the dashboard and pick a song, it should work.”

“Thanks,” I do what she says.

Since I’m still in the mood for PUBLIC, I grab the phone from my back pocket and open the music app, searching.

“Ready?” I ask, both give me a nod of approval.

“Sweet,” I mumble, pressing play.

And the music starts playing, but this time, only for us to hear.

I’m thinking about what Josh said to me. He asked Sam to the Homecoming dance, How tragic could things get before they stop? I’m starting to rethink my decisions, maybe getting too close is too dangerous. Staying is going to get me killed in more than one way. 

Although how could I leave, when that means abandoning a newfound family.

“I’m a playin' it safe? I've been here for too long Haven't made a mistake There's a reason to stay - 'Cause I feel so alone”

Josh’s face lights up when he starts hearing the music, nudging KJ’s arm and nodding. The girl smiles and waves, her way of saying “Welp, my work here is done!” As she takes off the headphones and gets off the stage.

However, Josh and I stay to listen to the music, I see him mouth a “Well done!” and I answer with a “Same to you!”

“Make up reasons to wait Run so nothing goes wrong But everything that she said, I'm overthinkin' while I'm drivin' back home”

I start to follow the rhythm with my foot, sort of awkwardly dancing to it. 

I won’t overthink what Josh said, there’s no point. Like I said to Angelica, he’s here and he’s staying and so am I. 

Why would I be afraid? He’s told me before he’s not leaving me behind. I’ve said the same thing, I got his back.

“'Cause she said, 

"Call me up when you're all alone 'cause I'm down for hangin' out

We'll stay up all night and I'll just crash on your couch.”

Josh starts dancing as well, we’re goofing around and not really showing our best moves, kinda like the hand-holding thing a few hours ago.

I’ve noticed how I do silly things with him often just for the sake of it, ever since he told me about his fight with Sam we have that sort of dynamic, we can act stupid and the other won’t judge.

“...Maybe that's her, that's the girl I'm just terrified And maybe that's her...”

Does this count as the soundtrack of my life? I mean we attached this song to a memory permanently. Who cares if it’s another PUBLIC song? Their songs are good, don’t underestimate them!

“How will I know if I never try? Maybe that's her, that's the girl, that's the girl I've been waitin' for”

He extends his hand and I take it, dancing in unison. I gotta say, we look pretty stupid. But it’s that spark in his eyes that makes me throw all the embarrassment out the window so I can get an extra minute with this side of him. 

We’re laughing, loud. I know it even if I can’t hear us. I know it for the way his shoulders move and how it gets harder to breathe.

We have our own party going on, I accidentally trip on some wires so of course, I fall forward and Josh catches me.

Am I clumsy or is my body just sabotaging my plan to not flirt with Josh until I think the time is right? 

Or is this just happening for the reader’s entertainment? We will never know.

The thing is that it happened and now Josh’s arms are on my waist and he’s chuckling and saying something that I can’t hear, he lifts me up so I’m standing on my own again. The music has gotten to the part where it’s a bit slower, and suddenly the choir seems to be ten times clearer than before.

“Am I playin' it safe? I don't know anymore Do I keep pushin' away 'Cause I'm just too afraid that someone's gonna get hurt”

Oh, fuck off, PUBLIC. I don’t need you spreading my thoughts out there like I’m desperate to send a message. 

Though I did pick the song myself, maybe I did do it expecting Josh would understand that I’m scared of what I’m feeling. Maybe I’m hoping he’ll understand without me having to say anything and then he can kindly reject me and I can move on with my life.

Please, please just listen to the song, Josh.

For a moment I think he does, his stare suddenly gets all serious and he opens his mouth like he’s about to say something. He steps back so he’s no longer holding my waist and takes off his headphones, I take off one of my earphones and look at him, my hands are shaking.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, trying to sound calm and mildly confused.

“I...” He looks down at his headphones and lets out a short laugh, “I didn’t know you like this band”

“They’re not bad!” I complain.

“Yeah, I know. I like them,” He smiles, “I mean I’m not a huge fan or anything but... you know how I said I had this song in mind apart from Mastermind?”

“I do,” I give him a small smile, “you refused to tell me which song was...”

“It was a PUBLIC song” He grins, “a recent one. I can’t remember the name, that’s the reason why I didn’t choose it but the music video had this cool story where they’re in like a movie set? The singer has a crush on the actress..?”

“I know which song it is! It’s-”

“You guys fixed the problem?” Angelica climbs over to the stage, “wireless headphones? Nice!”

“Thanks,” I reply, “it was Josh’s idea. He asked KJ how did she set up hers so we could do the same with these”

I give her a pointed look and she just scoffs, then she looks to a side and nudges my ribs.

“Look at that...”

I look at the main entrance of the mall and I see Maya heading out.

“Where is she going?” Josh asks.

“Y/N kicked her out”

“You- What?” He says with wide eyes.

“It’s a long story,” I shrug it off.

“It was really badass,” Angelica adds.

“Later,” I insist, “we have a decoration to finish”

“C'mon Y/N, I wanna hear!” Josh insists.

“Basically Maya was throwing a tantrum cause she couldn’t find her knife-”

“Actually it was because I discovered the real reason why she isn’t with the Cheeramazons. It’s cause they kicked her out, but go on...”

“No way!” The boy exclaims, mouth agape.

“Let me finish!” Replies Angelica, “So anyway, she was running around Y/N’s pharmacy and when she walked in I hear Maya screaming at her and I was ready to set her on fire when I heard she was looking for her stupid knife. I took it cause I was helping with some decorations and we needed to cut papers and stuff”

“Maya lost her shit when she saw An holding it and then started to scream louder, then took the knife and cut her”

“My finger,” Angelica proudly shows her bandaid, “and then Y/N lost it.”

“What do you mean?” 

“She told Maya that she needed to leave, cause her job as Healer was to make sure everyone was alright and since she hurt me she couldn’t stay”

“We need to surround ourselves with people that have some limits,” I try to explain so I sound less like an asshole, “Maya had none, she always expects to be the leader or the star of the group, this is how she reacts when she can’t have it. Besides, no one gets to touch Angelica on my watch. No one.”

“I’m not judging you,” He raises his hands, “if anything, I’m proud.”

“You... What? Why?”

“You found your thing,” He adds in a teasing voice, “Healer.”

“Ah,” I roll my eyes, smiling, “I figured that since you keep calling me that against my will might as well own it, right? I got an assistant and all! Alex is great on his job and calls me boss,” I grin.

“You do a pretty decent job,” Angelica shrugs, “just don’t fuck up”

“It’s getting late,” I see Angelica’s watch and realize the night is getting closer, “we get ready for the dance”

“Right!” Angelica perks up, “Eli is looking for you. He said he wanted to talk and that you could meet him back in the salon”

“Okay?” I frown, “I better go then...”

“Have fun!” She smiles, walking off the stage.

“I should go get dressed too,” Josh mumbles, leaving the headphones on the table next to him.

“I should do that after I talk to Eli as well”

“See you... Y/N?”

“Hmmm?”

“Bow-tie or tie?” He asks with a smile.

I let out a laugh, thinking about it for a second.

“Bow-tie. I think it suits you.”

“Bow-tie it is,” He gets off the stage as well.

The store is crowded, I’m starting to think maybe Eli is no longer here when I hear him calling my name from the back.

“Your campaign failed? Are you going to kill me with scissors?”

“What? Nah. I decided to not run for the crown.”

“Why?” I frown, getting closer to where he is, “Wasn’t that your goal?”

“I have a bigger goal now, which is not die,” I’m about to ask what the hell is he talking about when he speaks up again, “I’m giving you a makeover”

“How about no?” I backtrack, trying to be as far as possible from his grasp.

“Don’t be shitty, you know I used to work with my aunt!”

“I don’t need or want a makeover”

“You don’t wanna feel pretty for one night? Do a Cinderella entrance when they see you come down the stairs and all that shit? Do you even know what you’re gonna wear?”

“I was thinking black jeans..?”

“Good fucking- Sit on the chair, Y/N.”

“But-”

“You need a break. You’ve been curing all the kids since you came back and you have a sprained wrist. When was the last time you slept properly like, on a bed?”

“Not that much,” I huff, “like... a week?”

“It shows,” He gets closer and pushes me towards one of the chairs, “sit and relax, princess. I got this shit. When I’m done with you, you’ll look like real-life Barbie”

“How exciting,” I snort, “including the outfit?”

“That’s all on you. I trust you’ll pick something better than jeans. Ask Wesley, he’ll know how to capture your vibe”

“I think I can do it alone”

“Uh...”

“I used to dress up on my own before this whole thing happened,” I say, “the reason why I didn’t want to be all fancy this time it’s cause I just don’t see the point, it’s a made-up dance.”

“So were the ones back at school,” He retorts, already putting some sort of oil in my hair “the difference is that you didn’t plan those. This thing is to help us forget the bullshit, just play along”

I never thought I’d say this but maybe I should follow Eli’s advice. We’ve been through a lot of shit and this thing helps us cope, mend our inner wounds as a true healer would say.

He doesn’t let me look at my reflection until it’s done. He turns around my chair and sets me in front of the mirror. I don’t know how to react to what I’m seeing.

“So?” He inquires, raising a brow, “Will you let me handle those curls without doubting my abilities next time?”

“I...” How did he do that? My hair looks so soft and... clean. Hydrated as well, I have no split ends and it’s just so... in place, I look amazing. 

And my makeup? Yes, he did that too. And I don’t know how did he manage but I don’t regret it at all.

“Eli,” I gasp, “you’re my favorite boy right now”

“I tend to have that effect on the ladies,” He smirks.

“I love you,” I say mesmerized, softly passing a hand through my hair, “don’t take it the wrong way, I don’t wanna date you”

“You don’t need to specify,” Eli scoffs, “I know that you only have puppy eyes for dumbass Josh”

“Oh, come on,” I groan, “you too?”

“Princess if you wanna keep it casual then don’t drool all over the floor,” He replies, “even Crumble can notice”

“Shut up,” I complain, standing up and brushing little hairs from my overall, “I’m gonna go get changed. You better start to get ready as well.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t have my suit ready. I might have quitted the throne, but I’m still ruling hearts”

“Sure,” I stifle a laugh, “get them all, tiger”

I spend the next two hours searching for something my size and not claimed by the other kids. One hour trying to find them in a color that could match in a killer outfit. In the end, my look is not devastatingly perfect but it’s enough and it makes me feel good, I can’t complain.

Alex finds me when I’m walking out of the store, fully dressed and ready to dance.

“Holy shit, I feel like a proud father right now!” Alex takes my hands and makes do a quick twirl so he can see the result, “I wish I had a camera with me”

“Wait! I have a phone”

“Didn’t you lose your phone when... you know”

“I got one after I left the jocks,” I pull the phone out of my pocket and open the camera app, “you take it, I’m terrible taking selfies”

“Happy Homecoming do-over!” Alex presses the icon on the screen until he feels satisfied, we check to see if we like the pictures and then he gives me the phone back so I put it back in my pocket, “Ready to dance all night?”

“As long as my wrist allows” I lift my hand, still covered in bandages, “I’m ready to have fun”

We walk in and I freeze, amazed by the final result of all our efforts these past days. It looks great, I even start to consider that maybe this wasn’t a waste of time.

“Neat, right?” Wesley walks up to me, giving Alex and I two sets of earphones so we can listen to the music, “I made it work, which means you lost.”

“Not now,” I whisper once that Alex puts on the earphones, “let’s wait until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Na-ah,” He frowns, not even in a playful way, he looks genuinely upset “tonight’s the perfect romantic setting and you’re thinking about wasting it? You’re thinking about wasting your shot when you’re looking like that? Not on my watch, sister.”

“Wesley...” Alex looks at us slightly confused and I shake my head, “listen, I’m here to have a fun night with Alex and it’d be rude to leave him only to go and flirt with some other dude”

“I’ll only say this once, but you’re losing precious time Y/N,” Wesley warns me, I get the feeling that he’s hidding something from me but I can’t think of anything in particular, “just like you lost your chance to add a song to the soundtrack of our lives. You never told me your choice!”

Shit, after what happened with Maya I totally forgot I was supposed to tell Wesley which song I wanted. Still, I don’t worry too much about it, my mind lands immediately on a song.

“Am I still allowed to tell you?”

“Depends. Which one is it?” I lean closer and whisper the title to him, along with the name of the artist, “I don’t know who that is.”

“Just type it like that, it should appear right away,” I insist.

“Is it good?”

“Hey! You told me I could pick any song, so just add it to the list!” I push him towards the stage, all the way Wesley curses under his breath.

“You need to calm down!” He backs up, “Don’t ruin the suit!”

“You gonna play the song?”

“Yes, now leave the DJ alone.”

“Fine,” I go to find Alex again, he’s waiting for me next to the food and quickly takes off one of the earphones so he can talk to me.

“You want a drink?”

“Does the punch have alcohol?” I say as I put on only one of the earphones, keeping the other in my pocket.

“I don’t know?” He frowns, leaning closer to the bowl.

“I don’t wanna get wasted,” I shake my head, “can’t risk another injury so soon”

“I’ll get you coke”

“I’ll go with you”

We move around the mass of bodies until we reach the other table. There, we see Josh dancing with... a mop?

“Josh?” He’s wearing earpods, so I have to poke his arms to get his attention, when he turns and sees me, he immediately takes one off, “What are you doing with that mop?”

“Hi-woah! You look... so...” Josh looks at me and then at Alex, maybe hoping to get some help from my friend but Al stays silent, waiting for him to end the sentence himself, “you... Hi.”

“Hello,” I chuckle, “I see you’re wearing a bow-tie”

“I see you kept the aesthetic and just changed the overall for a... more fancy overall”

“It’s called a romper,” I clarify, “yes, it’s a fancier version but just as comfortable as the original. I’m also wearing heeled boots so you can’t say I’m not trying.”

“No, I wasn’t going to,” He corrects, “I think you look great. Both of you. Hi, Alex.”

Crap, I forgot I was with Alex. I’m a terrible friend.

“Hi Josh, your date seems pretty shy... Are you going to introduce us?”

“Yeah,” Josh smiles, “Y/N, Alex. Meet Mop-Sam. She’s here to represent real Sam now that she can’t be here”

“Hi Mop-Sam,” I tilt my head, “is this some kind of regression? Are you going back to when you were thirteen and your coach made you dance with a mop as a coping mechanism?”

“No. I just want Sam to have one last good night”

“Fair, but you could’ve used a mannequin,” I agree, “Why a mop?”

I stay quiet as I see the realization hit Josh, he stares at the mop with a new found resentment for his lack of brain.

“I didn’t think of that,” He whispers.

I pat his back.

“You should’ve asked me first, buddy,” I shake my head, “enjoy your night with mop-Sam though, she looks nice.”

He glares at me as I giggle, walking away with Alex beside me, casually holding me by the waist.

“Josh is really weird,” He says while handing me a soda, “yet, he’s got good intentions. I get why you like him.”

I choke with my drink. I don’t even try to deny it, apparently there’s no use to it since everyone has a radar to identify my crush from miles away.

“I just think he’s really fun to be around,” I shrug, “it’s thanks to him that I found you so I’m thankful that he found me”

“I can tell he’s glad that you found him,” Alex raises a brow, “why didn’t you come to the dance with him?”

“Because you asked me first.”

“You could’ve said no. If you wanted to come with Josh I would’ve understood. Don’t use me as an excuse you had all the time in the world to ask him and you didn’t, you don’t want to admit that you chickened out on the last second.”

“What if I did?” I reply sternly, “Is not like he wants to be with me, I’ll get hurt if I try”

“Dude, didn’t you see the way his brain short-circuited when he saw you? I could practically see the hearts floating around his head”

“But Sam-”

“Sam’s gone. If he can accept that, Why can’t you?”

That’s a good question. Why can’t I? 

Josh and I could be everything I always wanted, why am I so against it? It isn’t Alex. Josh wasn’t dating one of my friends, he’d broken up with Sam way before I had even returned to his life and we’re both so fitting for each other, why can’t I let myself enjoy life in the apocalypse? Why do I always have to feel sorry for myself?

“I think I’m still not over it,” I say, voice hoarse, “part of me doesn’t think I deserve something good happening to me after what I did to Katie.”

“That’s bullshit,” He frowns, “you spent most of your life looking after me whenever my parents weren’t home, made sure I always had food and slept well. You make sure all these kids are safe and clean their wounds when they need it, even with a sprained wrist. Shit, Y/N you’ve grown to be strong and you’ll be bigger than what you expect but please cut you some slack, let yourself be happy.”

“I think...” 

The music is loud on my left ear, barely leaving me room to think. What Alex wants me to do is to follow my heart, that I can hear loud and clear even with all the noise surrounding us tonight.

“I want a break. I wanna have all the little, ridiculous nice things that used to make me go all giggly inside”

“That means?”

“How about we dance until I can’t feel my feet?”

“And after that?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Seems appropiate”

Time flies when you’re having fun, specially when it’s during the night. I only realize it’s been three hours when Eli walks up to us and asks if we voted for a homecoming gender-neutral royalty since it’s about to close so they can start to count the votes and tell us who won before midnight.

Alex and I step to the voting box and when we’re done he lets me know that he has to go to the restroom so I’m left alone. 

I decide to use my free time wisely. I walk towards the stage and after a mute conversation Wesley agrees to put the song I asked for, I make my way towards Josh, who’s still cheerfully dancing around the mop.

I poke his back again and he turns around, smiling brightly when he sees me. He’s about to take off the earpods but I stop him, signaling him to listen to the next song.

I promise, dear reader, that this is the last time I’ll use PUBLIC as the soundtrack of my life. You can agree with me when I say this one demanded a place on the list. After all, it was Josh’s song but it also means something to me, the lyrics now more than ever, say everything I can’t dare to say directly at his face.

So now I’m asking you and Josh, to dance along to the beat of my love declaration.

“Oh, here we go again, on this ride Incapable of just being friends Always on my mind...”

He lifts his head up as soon as he hears the first few seconds of the song, smiling. I can read his lips saying “You found it!” and I nod, just as happy as him. I extend my hand and ask him quietly if he wants to dance this one with me and he takes my hand with no hesitation.

I know I’ve only known Josh for like, eight days. Without counting the time in highschool cause we didn’t know each other that well. 

I know that’s not enough time to say I love him, or that he’s the love of my life. Yet, is enough to know I like him and that I would love to know him better. I want to be with Josh as close as possible, all the time. Maybe the feeling will fade away, maybe he’s not the love of my life. 

I rather be with him until it fades away than letting the feeling die without trying.

“Waiting for something A message late at night Are you gonna say what you wanna say? Are we gonna do this right?”

At first, we dance awkwardly, slowly from one side to the other cause we don’t know how to dance like this: So officially. This is not a random day when we’re fooling around and dancing like stupid people. This is the homecoming do-over and we’re supposed to do it right.

Then we share one look of panic where both of us are like “oh my god, what the hell are we supposed to do with our arms?” and instantly relax cause we remember: “Hey, this is us, why are we trying so hard?”

“But I'm hesitating when I'm around you I can't escape that look in your eyes It's getting late and we're just talkin' My feels locked inside”

He takes my hands and makes me twirl and slide, we get stuck in some movements but none of us gets stressed about it. Meh, whatever, we’re having fun.

We aren’t talking, yet I feel like I’m having a whole conversation with just our eyes, he laughs when I accidentally step on his foot and I do it when he trips on his own feet. I’m not capable to look away, it’s just us here.

You know, maybe I’m imagining this, maybe I’m exaggerating what’s going on between us during this song. Does it matter? Life would be so dull if we saw our reality only in one way. Isn’t it better to think you’re the only person left in the world and witness as time stops for you to remember every single little, ridiculous detail that makes your life worth it?

This right here, is what makes my new life worth it: The people in it, the feelings I have whenever I’m around them.

Josh.

How everything is possible when I’m with him.

“'Cause you're the one that I want 'Cause you're the one that I need I just wanna fall in your arms So I'm begging down here on my knees”

He pulls me closer and I put my arms around his neck. I’m nervous at first, I’ve never been this close to him, besides the times when I crashed into him or that time back at the factory where I lost my cool and hugged him in front of everyone... okay fair, I’ve fallen into his arms plenty of times before.

This hits different because of the pretty lightning, the music that we both like, we’re wearing fancy clothing which is always a nice plus, the ambient feels so... normal. Finally, I got to have a little piece of my old life back.

I imagine that this is the actual Homecoming, Alex is somewhere with Stuart and somehow Josh and I kept talking after our school project, one thing led to another, then we came to the school dance together.

Think of all that could’ve been, if only I had decided to let go of my feelings for Alex sooner, to give this a chance. I could tell Josh was something special even if I didn’t like him that way, he always caught my eye one way or another.

Maybe if I’d talked to him one day back in Highschool to say more than just ‘Hi’, if I had invited him over to the movies with the rest of my friends, things would be different. I don’t know exactly how different, but perhaps, better.

The solo comes in and Josh uses the opportunity to take off one of his earpods and asks me to do the same. 

“This is the song you chose for the soundtrack?”

“You like it?” I grin.

“I can’t believe you used your only chance on a song that I wanted, that’s not cool!”

“Hey, who said I did it for you?” I tease, “I love that song, it’s a banger”

“You don’t think it was too much?”

“Why would it be too much?” I frown, “it’s good, not as corny as you make it sound”

“It wasn’t the song what I thought it was too corny,” He rolls his eyes, “I was planning on dedicating the song to someone”

“Oh,” I feel my blood run cold, and burn my chest at the same time, “to who?”

“Not important,” He shrugs it off, “she’s not available”

That’s it. That’s how the spell wears off. Josh has a crush on someone else.

Wait.

How can Josh be crushing on one of the other girls? For all I know, he barely knows like five people out of everyone here. The only girls he talks to are Angelica, KJ, Crumble and I. Angelica is a child, KJ has no dance partner, Crumble is like ten years older...

Is he talking about me?

“I wanna know, wanna go to the deep end Tired of all this actin' shy I wanna know, wanna go to the deep end”

He puts his earpod back on and I do the same. My mind is running wild to search for the next step after the song ends.

Should I tell him everything? How crazy will I sound if I tell him, ‘Hey, guess what? This was supposed to be my love declaration and it’s my way of saying I’m crushing on you, my friend.’

No, this is nuts. I can’t do it.

Oh my god, I can’t tell Josh.

I’m a coward. I’m such a gigantic coward but fuck, I can’t.

I feel his hand pressing lightly on my waist and I look up, his eyes are blue but they’re so clear that they reflect all the lights in the room, two little kaleidoscopes. I can’t stop looking, I’ve never been able to look away.

He asks me if I’m okay and I silently reply that he has nothing to worry about.

It’s true, he doesn’t have to worry, I will keep my mouth shut forever.

‘Y/N, what if he does have feelings for you?’ You're back with the nosy questions. Well, if he does, it’ll pass. Love isn’t constant.

It’s better this way, right? No strings attached means no one gets hurt and we stay together as a whole tribe.

Right?

“'Cause you're the one that I need That I need”

The song ends and we stay close to each other. Josh has this cute, tiny smile while he stares at me, I probably look like I’m worried sick. 

Shit, I need some time to think.

I take off both my earphones and step back.

“Thank you for allowing me one song with you,” I mumble, too nervous to speak like a normal human being.

“That’s cool, Mop-Sam was getting tired of me kicking her bucket anyway” I laugh, it’s a tense grin, barely cheerful. Josh notices right away, “It’s something wrong?”

“Alex must be looking for me,” I change the subject, playing with the straps of my romper, “I should go find him” 

“Alex,” Josh’s demeanor changes, now acting distant, “he’s probably worried.”

“It was nice,” I add, slowly backing up, “we should make this more often”

“Sure...”

I find Alex in no time and I decide to tell him everything, he’s completely understanding and I’m so relieved to have him back.

It’s like I’m so much lighter ever since... Ever since Josh found me.

“You need space to think,” Alex agrees, walking me towards a set of stairs, “go to the second floor, no one’s there right now. Clear your head, make a decisión, come back when you know what you’ll do and then we’ll enjoy the rest of the night without you overthinking every little detail” 

“Okay...”

“Promise?”

“Don’t get so pushy, Alex,” I complain, “I’ll try, okay? I can’t promise I’ll fix it tonight.”

“Fair,” He huffs, “now get your shit together, I’ll dance with Angelica in the meantime, I like her”

“Have fun...”

I do as Alex told me to, leaning over the rail so I can watch my former classmates dancing to a song I only hear on one ear, keeping the other earpod inside my pocket so I can listen if someone looks for me.

Should I accept my stupid fate? Give in and be like, ‘welp whatever God wants for me I’ll have it’ cause I’m honestly getting tired.

I’m an orphan with a bunch of kids I have to look after and a crush that is not over his dead girlfriend. I’m dumb. I need a good night of sleep and something besides pre-packaged food or I’ll die before I turn twenty of heart disease.

“There you are,” I turn around to see Josh, he already fucked his bow-tie, “I was starting to worry”

“Why?”

“I saw Alex dancing with Angelica, don’t take me wrong, that’s cute and all but... did you guys fight?”

“No?” I frown, “I needed a moment to clear my head. I’ve been stressed lately.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Josh stands beside me, “do you remember Sam’s video here?”

“The compliments video?” I smile, “It was sweet”

“You’re in it,” He grins.

“No, I’m not?”

“You are,” He pulls out his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it, “I was watching it this afternoon while I was getting Mop-Sam ready and I saw you... There!”

He gives me his phone, the video is paused where Sam is holding the camera and Josh is the one facing it. Behind him, a bit far but still able to recognize our faces I see Alex and me, walking out of a shop.

“That’s me!” I exclaim, “I’d never noticed before...”

“Sam and I never saw you there,” He adds, “where were you?”

“Oh, we left early that day,” I reply, nervously avoiding any further explanation, “We had an argument, sort of, so I left”

“That’s too bad,” Josh frowns, “I’m sure Sam would’ve chosen you guys for the compliments”

“Maybe,” I sigh, “I wasn’t hunting for compliments that day”

“Or ever,” He jokes, “always running from compliments...”

“Hey! I can take a compliment,” I lightly slap his shoulder.

“Really?” My friend smirks, “okay then, let’s see...”

He takes the phone and steps back, pointing the camera to my face.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m about to make a compliment video”

“Please don’t.”

“You said you can take a compliment, I’m only checking if that’s true”

“Josh...” I whine, turning away from the phone.

“Y/N,” He speaks up, grinning, “Y/N! I wanna let you know that I think you’re cool and that your weapon is actually more badass than my katana. You looked really scary the first time I saw you hit a Ghoulie with that thing. Also, you have a terrible taste in colors but you’re clothes are always fun and you’re not afraid to wear them. You are fucking impressive, I’m impressed. All the time.”

“What?” I look over at him, still a bit camera-shy, “Josh, stop!”

“And your healer abilities rule. I think you should learn to use a skateboard, just cause it would look badass on your resume,” He laughs, “you make the best instant chicken noodle soup I’ve ever eaten and that’s important, I usually hate fast food.”

“I think that’s enough,” I chuckle, walking over to him and trying to put down the phone. Josh is taller so he easily avoids my hand, “c’mon!”

“You’re hilarious most of the time, the best sense of humor I’ve seen in years,” He continues, holding his phone above me and smiling like an idiot, “By the way, I was too blown away a few hours ago when I first saw you to say it, but you look beautiful tonight. You look good all the time. I like how you look all the time but I mean-”

“You’re rambling!”

“I... yeah I am,” Josh grins, “sorry. What I’m trying to say is... you’re so, so nice.”

I laugh loud enough to feel like I need to cover my mouth since everyone is silent downstairs, Josh and laughs with me, finally putting the phone away.

“You’re better now?”

“After that whole pro speech?” I joke, “Obviously, I’m ready to keep on dancing”

“Great,” He throws a fist in the air, guiding me towards the stairs, “It’s almost time to know the gender-neutral royalty”

“Where’s Mop-Sam?” I ask while we go downstairs.

“She got a bit jealous after we danced, I’m giving her space,” He whispers like is serious business.

“Oh, damn,” I put a hand in my mouth, faking surprise, “should I go over to apologize?”

“Nah, she’ll be fine,” Josh shrugs, “how about we get drinks instead?”

“I’d like that,” I nod, “before I go back and steal Alex from Angelica”

“Ha, yeah,” Josh passes a hand through his hair, “Oh! Do you mind if I put back both airpods? This is the song I asked for the soundtrack of our lives!”

“Not at all,” I smile, “How about you enjoy the song and I bring the drinks?”

“Thanks,” He says, putting the airpods back on.

I walk towards the table and see Wesley making his way over to Josh, I glance at them for a second and I notice how nervous Wesley looks. I stay still, listening. 

“I need to tell you... everything”

I put the cups downs and I listen as Wesley rambles about him and Turbo, I want to stop him cause I know Josh isn’t listening but I’m not sure Josh needs to listen to all this tonight. Why is he telling him this tonight?

“...You’re going to die because my ex-boyfriend can’t stand that you and I are friends”

Oh. Okay, that’s why.

Josh takes off one of the airpods.

“You put my song on the soundtrack of our lives,” He says, deeply touched, “Deltron 3030? Thanks for making me feel so cool, man”

“Did you hear what I said?” Wesley asks in disbelief.

“I thought you were just singing along,” Josh shrugs.

“I heard,” I get to Josh’s side, “all of it”

Now I understand why he insisted so much on me making a move tonight. he didn’t want to kill Josh before I could confess.

Wesley’s eyes widened and he starts to speak, the buzzer sets off and cuts his speech. It’s time for the gender-neutral royalty. Everyone applauds and cheers, I step closer to him and I whisper.

“What the fuck did you do?”

He gives me one desperate look before his name is mentioned and he has to go over to the stage, along with Mop-Sam. I look around and I lock eyes with Eli, who has a panicky expression, I immediately know he’s also in this. I walk over to him and I give him a pointed look.

“You’re planning on killing Josh?!”

“How the fuck did you find out?” 

“How the-? Oh my god, you were going to do it. I can’t believe it,” I hiss, “Was... was the whole makeover a distraction? It was, wasn’t it? Eli I... I trusted you”

“That’s exactly why I’m doing this,” He shakes his head, “I’m trying to protect all these kids, that’s what you want, right?”

“I want us to be a good tribe, a loyal one! Not a fucking Game of Thrones rip-off!” I exclaim.

“Is not important anyway!” Eli exclaims, “He was supposed to die with the crown but Wesley won, he’s gonna die instead!”

“He what?” I turn to see Wesley walking up the stairs, deadly silent, “Oh, you fucking stupid martyr”

I run over to the stage, the kids don’t let me get any closer. I scream his name, but so are the rest of the children. 

I’m not gonna make it, Wesley will die. 

They get closer to put the crown on top of his head and...

“STOP!” He slaps the hand away, the crown flying to the floor, “No one touch that crown!”

“Thank god,” I clean my forehead from the sweat and whisper: “man, you are stressful!”

“Turbo told me that he’s gonna come and kill you all. But I have a plan.”

“Oh, so you did have a better plan?” I frown, speaking loudly this time.

“I know how we can fight back,” He replies, then looks back a Josh, “you have to trust me”

Josh shakes his head clearly pissed, then looks down at where I’m standing.

“We don’t have time,” I cross my arms, “let him talk”

Wesley talks and we set up the mannequins, we wait.

Turbo gets here in no time, breaks the door’s chains and throws punches in the dark like a madman, he stops until every mannequin is on the ground, realizing his mistake. We walk out of our hiding spots, I had to go over to the pharmacy to get my hammer, I feel more than ready to break some bones if I have to.

“You’re not supposed to fight,” Josh whispers beside me, “your wrist is not okay”

“I’ll manage,” I reply dryly.

The fight begins. I don’t break any skulls or knees but I do manage to break bows and swords, I feel like I’m kicking serious ass when someone throws me on the ground, I fall on my face.

“Are you protecting all your children, Y/N?” Maya sneers above me, putting a foot on top of my head, “I bet you’re having fun-”

I hear her grunt and suddenly her body falls next to mine, someone grabs me by the arms and lifts me up. 

It’s Alex.

“You can eat shit, Maya,” Alex replies, handing me my hammer, “your wrist is swelling again, you have to stop”

“I’ll stop with the hammer,” I kick a Jock in the crotch, “I’ll start with my legs”

“Good enough,” Alex nods.

Suddenly a loud scream echoes in the room.

“Turbo’s hurt! Retreat!”

It’s almost like the room is on fire, the Jocks run away picking up their weapons and lifting up their friends from the ground. I don’t see Maya, yet I know she’s with them. I don’t see Turbo either.

We’re left a mess, all our things are on the ground and the floor is slippery, mixed with blood and soda. Alex was right, my wrist feels awful as well.

Josh waits until everything is deadly quiet and looks over to Wesley.

“I have to lock you up”

As soon as he says it, a bunch of kids surround Wes and drag him to the nearest store, I see Eli quietly chuckling and I speak up.

“Eli helped him,” I point over to him, “he has to go too”

“I was only trying to help!”

“You hid important information to the group, we can’t trust you as long as you keep playing to your convenience,” I reply.

Another group of kids take him, pulling the heavy metal curtain so they stay in their place.

“Y/N?” Angelica speaks next to me, “you need something for your wrist”

“I’ll ask you this one time,” I say, ignoring her comment, “Did you know what they were doing?”

“No!” She responds in honest outrage, I believe her.

“Then you’ll keep an eye on them while I go and take something for my wrist”

“I already have it here,” Alex throws a small container with pills that I catch with my good hand.

“Thanks,” I look over to Angelica, “you think you can do it?”

“I’ll be more than happy,” She replies, already sitting on the ground, facing the store.

“I’ll stay with her,” Alex says, “I think you should check on Josh... he just got a death threat and immediately after had to fight for his life. He might need to talk to someone”

“I’ll be right back,” My mind is a bit too fuzzy after the fight, but I think I can have a small conversation with Josh, “I’ll do that...”

I walk around asking if anyone has seen Josh, one tells me they saw him walk out to lock the mall’s doors again.

I find Josh in the middle of the parking lot, he’s standing there quietly.

“Josh?” I inch closer.

I get no answer, I can only see his back.

“How are you feeling?” I’m merely five feet away from him.

“Did you know?” He inquires coldly.

“What?”

“What Wesley and Eli were planning,” Josh explains, “Did you know?” 

“No,” I say, “I had no idea. I heard though, when Wesley was talking to you moments before the crowning”

Josh turns around, tearing up.

“You didn’t help them?” He steps closer to me, his breathing faltering, “You swear you’re not lying?”

“No!” I repeat, this time exasperated, “Josh, I would never hurt you. I promised, remember? I’m with you.”

He looks at me with the same odd expression he makes every time I say something he’s not expecting to hear.��

My wrist is hurting but there’s also a warmth that spreads through it thanks to the ointment and the pills. I stand there, with nothing else to say. 

I don’t know what to ask. Josh doesn’t want to talk, I can see it on the way he keeps his mouth tightly shut.

Instead, he kisses me.

“And they all fall down...”

Taglist.

@letsbloodmagic @slythermyg  

[joyfulsongbird]

A Small Orphydice Fic I wrote

Evenings when neither of them are working are usually quiet, a relaxed state both of them enjoy wholeheartedly. Sometimes, they take a walk in the forest. But in these chilly fall nights that usually leave a layer of frost on the grass, they cover themselves in a quilt, start a fire, and sit together. Letting the shared warmth of their two bodies fill the house, until one of them starts yawning and they move to their bed. But for now, Eurydice is content to lean against her lovers shoulder, watching his fingers lively dance against his guitar, a few quiet notes plucking out here and there, ringing in her ears. A long pause where the scribbe of a pencil replaces the music, and then he's back to methodically plucking out some new melody.

"What's this new song about?" she murmurs into his shirt, eyes closed but she knows his hands still. "What was your- what's the word- muse, for this one?"

"You, of course." he answers it like it's obvious. Like she should've known already. "How peaceful you look. How your bangs fall over your eyes a little bit. Pink lips that I kind of want to kiss... and now you're smiling, and that makes it even better. And your long eyelashes. The-"

"Okay," she interrupts, though smiling just as he said. "I get it, you love me."

He hums out a deep note, letting it rattle through his chest and vibrate into her body. Warming her through and through. She hums it back.

A few more minutes pass by, until, "are you tired, love? It is getting late."

"No," she assures him. "I love this. I like listening to you play and write, and I'm so warm, don't make me move."

She nearly hears the smile in his voice, she can physically see it in her mind. "Alright. Let me know when you'd like to go to sleep."

"I will."

She doesn't.

***

Orpheus glances over at his wife almost half an hour later, to find her eyes closed and mouth drooping. Her breathing easy and steady, eyelashes fluttering with each movement of her eyes behind her eyelids. She's dreaming. Of what, he isn't sure, she probably won't remember in the morning, but he's happy to know that she is in a deep enough slumber that dreams will come to her. He prays they do not turn to nightmares as they often do these days. He just wants all good things for her. Is it too much to ask to want everything for one person? Well, yes, but it isn't selfish either. He wants to give her sunshine and lime green grass and pale red leaves and light snowfall glistening and carnations and sonnets written in the dead of night. He wants to sing her songs that she will sing for years to come. He just wants to give her everything after he failed to give her the necessities.

He gently sets his guitar on the floor along with his notebook, winding an arm under her knees and another under her shoulders, he lifts her into his arms. So light for someone so strong. So little. Dainty, almost. Her head lolls against his chest, she makes a small noise, deep in her throat, and he stops. The last thing he wants now is to wake her. They're both so tired these days, especially her, who works constantly. At least a lot of Orpheus' night work is something he loves, playing music and singing. She tends the garden all day, works the bar, takes twice as many shifts as he gathers extra tips for playing music. She takes such a burden. She needs this slumber.

Setting her gently down on their worn, hard, mostly uncomfortable mattress, he pulls the quilt up over her shoulders, just below her chin. Climbing into bed beside her, he pulls the blanket over his body as well. Sharing their body heat gives the space a warm feel. He presses a gentle kiss to the back of her head before shifting and getting comfortable to go to sleep himself. He watches her breath, a tempo he can count in his head every time her chest rises and falls.

1...in...2...out...3...in...4...out

The rhythm of her aliveness lulls him to sleep.

***

Eurydice wakes up in a position and place she did not fall asleep in. But she isn't complaining, she's warm, and it smells like honeysuckle and Orpheus' mouthwash. Her eyes remain closed, moving would just ruin the moment and sleep is hard to gather these days so she keeps the darkness behind her eyelids. Hoping to fall back into a slumber, but no, her body has decided that it's quite time to wake up. She still doesn't move afraid of disturbing Orpheus. He needs this sleep, she can see these days that the bags under his eyes get darker and darker. That the luster in his eyes gets just a little dimmer. She hates watching it happen.

However, he's the first to move. She can tell he's waking from the way he shifts and the change in his breathing.

"Hmm..." even his sleepy sounds are almost musical.

She hums the note right back at him, sort of a game they play sometimes. He plucks a string on his guitar and she sings it back from wherever she is, washing dishes, in the garden, or he'll sing one out from the sink and she'll repeat it back from the bed.

He's more awake now, the note this time is clearer and warmer in tone.

She repeats it back, an octave up.

It goes on like this, back and forth, until they are awake and waiting to see the sun. Before she can pull herself out of bed, though, she feels the brush of his nose on the back of her neck and she smiles, rolling to her side planning to brush a small kiss on the tip of his nose but completely missing and landing it on his eyelid, which makes him smile, so she kisses the other one too. A kiss to both his cheeks, one to his nose, and finally a peck on the lips before rolling away and out of the tangle of blankets and sheets.

"'rydice," he groans, still lying limp, buried in the blankets. "It's too early to be so wakeful. Come back to bed."

She laughs as she pulls clothes out of her drawers, planning for a day at the bar with Orpheus and dressing accordingly. Her black slip dress, black pants underneath, brown vest, and long overcoat. On days that she plans to spend gardening, she switches out her dress for an old white shirt of Orpheus' tied up and an old pair of jeans stained from years of use.

By the time Orpheus is getting up, she's slipping on her vest and going to the mirror to brush out her hair.

He comes to stand behind her, leaning down to rest his chin her head.

"Stop being so damn tall." she jokes, nudging his jaw with her fist. He peppers kisses on the top of her head, the side of her head, her neck. He's so sappy and affectionate in the morning. She doesn't mind one bit.

"Get dressed." she finally reminds him. "Or we'll be late."

"Fine, fine." she watches him backwards through the mirror, admires the way he moves as he slips on old hand-me-down pants from Mr. Hermes, a button shirt, and his suspenders. As he starts to tie his red bandana, she turns back to the mirror to mess with her hair again.

"Ugh," she remarks. "My bangs want to fly away from my face."

He barks out a laugh, "gods, I love you."

It was moments like these that she cherished: where she went over to him while he played and distracted him by wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing her cheeks to his back; standing in the mirror together, half naked, and laughing at the way they described their own features; Orpheus tapping a rhythm out on her leg as they lay together; a kiss shared between shifts at the bar; dirt smeared on her nose that he tried to wipe off but only managed to make it worse. These moments were more common than she thought, the more she made a list of these moments. And it made her happy, knowing that every day had at least one of these things that brought some brightness to a cold, winter's day.

She sat at the table, waiting for her water to boil to make tea. She used to drink solely coffee, but after living with Orpheus (a faithful tea drinker) she decided to try and get rid of coffee addiction.

She twists her wedding band around on her finger, admiring the way the metal glinted in the faint, early morning sunlight wafting in from the window directly behind her. She liked the way it looked on her, liked the way it felt, the natural way the silver coloring looked against her olive skin tone. How her and Orpheus could hold hands while they were dancing and know that the other was wearing their ring. And see the glint of metal; and smile, because they belong to each other. That these rings signify a life together, one where she won't leave, one where he won't abandon her. Not that she's afraid that he will, but deep down inside of her, the part of her that fled every town and home she had, is afraid that the people around her will leave. The rest of her knows Orpheus loves her, for he tells her every day, and she is content here. She loves it here. She loves Orpheus. She loves Persephone. She loves Hermes. She loves the smell of the bar, old wood and whisky. She loves their home, with its thatched roof and periwinkle blue walls. She loves the garden by their home. She loves all of it. Even the train, she has learned to love. She's learned not to dread the sound of the whistle coming in, not to hate the smell of coal smoke. She loves the way the train itself glints in the sun. She loves how the smoke comes out in perfect puffs. She loves how the train brings Persephone home to them; brings spring back to winter.

"Hey," Orpheus interrupts her zone out by gently tapping the table in front of her, effectively snapping her out of day dream. "Stay with me, okay? Mornings are boring without you present."

She smiles, nods, "got lost in thought. That's all."

He purses his lips before pressing a kiss to her head, and going to fill two mugs with hot water. She knows he worries about her, but so does she for him. But he always seems to worry when she lets her mind wander to darker places, when she stares blankly unnervingly like a worker from Hadestown. She hates to think that when she looks like that, Orpheus can only see her as what she once was.

"Thanks, love." he always smiles when she calls him that, though she often does, and for that specific reason.

And he always replies; "my pleasure, love."

Which usually makes her crack up, or smile, or blush. One of the three. This time, it leaves a faint pink glow on her cheeks which she attempts to chalk up to the steam drifting up to her face from her hot drink.

They drink their tea in a comfortable silence, with the occasional clink of a spoon on a mug and a mug being placed on the table. They don't mind the silence, especially so early in the morning when neither of them are quite ready to face the day.

She places her mug in the sink, leaning against it to watch Orpheus drink the last dregs of his tea before wandering over to the sink as well. She blocks the sink with her body, stretching her arms out to keep him from placing his cup next to hers.

"Move!" he laughs, swerving around to place his mug in the old steel sink. In the moment of closeness, she leaves forward, colliding her lips to his for a sweet moment of closeness in the morning. She leans back against the counter, pulling him closer in that moment, deepening the kiss to something more passionate, but still just as sweet.

"We have to get to work." he reminds her quietly with a smile that she can feel against her own lips.

"I know." she murmurs back, tilting her head to the side and hooking her fingers onto his bandana, gently tugging on it. "We have a few spare minutes though."

Can't every moment of the day be like this? Like warmth and the taste of green tea mixed with her lipgloss and his mouthwash. The young couple learned to live for moments like these, mornings like these mornings, kisses as sweet as these kisses.

Can't it always be like this?

A knock at their door says that it cannot.

She pulls away, disgruntled, "who the hell-?"

"I'll get it." Orpheus sighs, stepping away from her and untangling his hands from her waist.

"Orpheus, wait! Come back!" she calls as he starts towards the door. He turns back to her, as she reaches up to wipe away her lip gloss off of his mouth and chin and cupids bow. He laughs as she does so, before she sends him to the door. She strides across the room, to the mirror to fix her now mangled hair and smudged makeup. Her bangs were indeed flying away from her forehead, and her lipgloss was spread far from her lips. She wiped it away, hearing a faint familiar female voice in the doorway, frowning. And then an exclamation of joy from Orpheus and she looks over in curiosity.

Before she, too, nearly cries in the relief and joy of spring arriving again.

Persephone's dress is just as bright green as she remembers and emanates warmth as Eurydice throws her arms around the women, burying her face in the giant sleeves until she can feel her shoulder beneath the fabric.

"You're back." she sighs. "It's spring."

Persephone pulls back, holding her out by her shoulders to examine Eurydice thoroughly. Her eyes roam her face, over her body, like a mother checking on their child.

she taps the young girl's nose. "I'm back, hon."

"how was your winter?" she continues, turning to add Orpheus to the conversation again. "Not too difficult, I hope?"

"Better. Much better than it has been." he says, looking to Eurydice as if for approval. She nods, smiling.

"Good, good." Persephone says, her grin spreading even wider than before.

Spring has come, finally.

[we-love-the-murder-bois]

Meeting Michael at Smiths Grove

(A small first meeting scenario with a crazy s/o. Tw: murder of people and animals, and mentions of pervyness and possible assault.)

You knew there were things wrong with your head, all jumbled up and loose and wrong. You knew you needed help, but you didn’t like this place. The walls were too white, the people too quiet and dead, and the staff too lingering in their touches and looks. It felt like standing in the lions den, all the while being groomed to think you were Daniel when you knew you were a simple their waiting to be ripped apart.

You hadn’t meant to lose it, but people rarely did. You were young at the time, just a teenager, and your ex backed you into a corner, so you reacted. You bashed their head in with a frying pan until it was basically red mush. When you finally came back to yourself, you had killed every living thing in the house, even your pet. You missed them more than your ex, if you were being honest.

You never said it, but you wondered if that weird doctor- Loomis?- saw what you didn’t say. You remembered killing your ex, and it had felt amazing. Nothing was more pleasing, thrilling, arousing than killing them and hearing them scream, until they weren’t.

You had never been a social creature, but your only company whispering about demons or being catatonic was annoying.

You and taken to wandering, learning every square inch of the place you would call home for some time. You looked in every room, learning which paranoid schizophrenic would attack you for poking around and which ones just cried in the corner when you poked them. The one room that really interested you though, belonged to one of the more infamous inmates.

Michael Myers, a catatonic mountain of a man who killed his sister, her boyfriend, and his father when he was a runt. He was interesting, but his eyes were dark and stormy. You probably weren’t leaving any time soon, so why not learn more?

Slowly you spent more time in and around Michael’s cell, eventually claiming a corner of his cot as yours to sit on and talk to Mike.

You had pretty quickly figured out that the majority of inmates were basically corpses following the basics of surviving, with prompt, and Mike wasn’t too different. He didn’t talk, barely moved aside from making a mask, and you never saw him leave his room without being forced to. Still, you liked to think a part of him heard you.

Maybe it was coping, finding solace in someone else who had killed, someone stronger, or whatever psychology. You just liked the company, it didn’t feel like they wanted you to say something, you could just say what you wanted.

“I killed my ex and his roommates. Also his cat. I feel bad about ganking Freddy, poor kitty was an asshole, but he didn’t need to die like that. I did him dirty.” You sighed, leaning forward on your elbows. You had told this story before, but it still felt good to talk to someone who wasn’t taking notes.

“Anyways, I’m gonna warn ya, I’m planning to attack one of the wardens tomorrow, so I won’t be by until I’m out of solitary. Just rough him up a little, I won’t risk killing him, not yet. He’s a pervert always forcing those pretty young things to do whatever he wants. Imma dig my thumbs into his eyes until he can’t see pretty no more.” You saw a bit of a tick in Mike’s shoulder, and while it could have been him fiddling with his mask, you liked to think it was a sign he was listening.

And you had done just that, eventually tackled and tased to the ground as you cackled, that pervs blood on your hands. You knew he probably didn’t, but you hoped Michael saw. Maybe he’d be proud, who knew.

After you served your stint you fell back into schedule, making up for lost time. You wondered if Michael missed you, but you got no confirmation or denial.

“Halloween is coming up. I’m excited, but kinda sad? If I ever get out, I’ll be too old to enjoy it anymore. I miss runnin around, bein a kid, gettin candy and goin wild. I understand why you love masks, they make you braver, don’t they? I always feel safe when I’m wearing a mask.” You confessed one October night, looking around at the steadily growing collection of masks on Michael’s walls. You knew not the touch them, but you quietly admired.

A few days later you had found a mask outside your door.

It was beautiful, yet terrifying. You ran your fingers along it gently, admiring it. You loved it more than you had ever loved anything else. With hands stiller than they had been for years, you carefully slipped the mask onto your face, securing it behind your head. It fit like it belonged there, so you decided it did.

You never took it off, and it became your new face. Sure, they tried to force you to take it off, saying it was a safety blanket or some crap, but they soon learned that you played nice up until they touched your mask.

Your time with Mike got longer and he knew more about you than your family or doctors did. He had heard all your stories and musings, from the sober, calm words to the near drunk medicated rambling. Even though you were probably a stranger to him, he felt so important to you.

After you started wearing the mask and spending every moment you could in Michael’s cell, Dr. Loomis had taken a liking to you. You didn’t like him, he was too obsessive and crazy. You thought he belonged in there with them, not prancing around like a child at the zoo.

“You’re smart, being silent. These people wait until you start to talk and then they use that to break you down. These therapists and their medications, all because we talk.” You were pretty strung out after they changed your medication dose, laying sprawled out on Michael’s cot. Had you been in your right mind you wouldn’t have pushed that, but you were hazy and hurting.

You had fallen asleep until an orderly was hauling you out. You thought you saw Mikey twitch when you grunted in pain, but it was probably the drugs. Thankfully it was a nicer orderly, not one of the creepy ones, so you didn’t have a reason to fight him.

Through the years, Michael became your everything. He was fixed, unchanging and uncompromised in a world that constantly screwed you over. Through the drugs and the fights, the bad moments and the good ones, there was always Mike to go to. He had given you a face, a safe space, he was your everything. You had stopped talking to anyone else, became a ghost around everyone but Mike.

You were sitting in your cell, tapping rhythms on the too clean tiles when you heard the screaming start, along with gunfire. You couldn’t help a small giggle at the smell of copper but forced yourself to stand and go to your door. It was locked but you knew your cell was older, you simply threw yourself into it until it opened. Pain didn’t matter much with the drug cocktail you were on.

You followed the noises, turning a corner and walking past some dead bodies. Maybe you would’ve felt something once upon a time, but this place had broke your remorse. You felt jealous, if anything. Whoever had done this was braver, they did what you were too coward and weak to do.

You found Michael standing over a body, hands covered in blood. He had smashed the persons head in with a tv, so points for creativity. He looked up and you stood in the doorway, staring at each other behind your masks. You wondered if he planned to kill you, and if you minded. Life would be meaningless once he was gone, so you didn’t mind dying if he was the one to do it.

You smiled behind your mask, tilting your head up as he slowly approached. Your eyes fluttered closed and you felt clearer than you had in years.

You hadn’t expected to feel his iron grip on your arm, feel him start to drag you with him, but you’d didn’t question him. He had a plan, and you were all too willing to follow him to the ends of the earth, do whatever he wanted.

You would live as long as he wanted you to, and if or when he decided you would die, you wouldn’t fight it.

Michael Myers was your everything.