#city being the keyword

[windslar]

The sims team out here thinking the Landgraabs are the protagonists of the story.

[thatonebjp]

Some Magic cards I saw in a dream

[uyuforu]

How to know where your Future Spouse was born with Astrology

Quick little story time to introduce this post: I was scrolling on instagram and suddenly I saw a reel about astrology. The astrologist on the reel was explaining how it was possible to see with the 10H where your Future Spouse was born/ come from, and explained in the reel. I'll give credits of course. But people in her comments seem to be confused still and she wasn't replying much. I thought of making a post about it and making it more clear! It is indeed a very interesting theory. In the reel she took the example of Angelina Jolie.

Credits of the theory goes to v.josa on Instagram.

All pictures were found on Pinterest

Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ How to know when you will marry

જ⁀➴ Planets and their Rulers

જ⁀➴ Juno, Groom, Briede in Signs, Houses, Degrees

Book a private reading: menus ; Q&A ; rules ; instagram

Buy me a Kofi •ᴗ•

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Why the 10H?

ꕥ The 7H in astrology represents the Future Spouse. And in Numerology, the number 4 represents the home, foundation, productivity and sometimes wealth.

ꕥ So if we count from the 7H until the 10H, we find a gap of 4. So in this theory, the 10H will so represent where the Future Spouse of the native was born.

ꕥ This technique is to be used on Natal Charts only. I will explain the technique used in order for you to understand better. This technique is to be used to guess the country but also the key words of the city they were born in.

ꕥ This technique doesn't say where your FS lives right now! It is only a way to found out where your FS comes from.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ The Technique

ʚïɞ In your 10H/MC, you will need to check the sign it is in. You will also check the degree of the house, but also the ruler, and what planets are in the 10H. We are only going to check planets! Sun to Pluto only!

ʚïɞ For the Ruler of your 10H, you will need to check where it is in your chart and under what sign.

ʚïɞ For the planets inside, it will tell us what kind of country and place your FS was born in. I'll give all the key words after the examples. For the planets, we will use the ones that are the closest to your MC! So if you have any planets that exactly conjuncts your MC it's perfect! Otherwise, just take the closest. The closest planets to take will need to be 10° apart maximum from the line of the MC!

ʚïɞ Unfortunately it is very hard to explain this technique just like that, so I will use different examples down below for you to understand better. I want to also add that everything is more about describing where your FS was born, and so everything will work with key words!

ʚïɞ Example: My MC is Cancer 23°. I will look at Cancer/ Moon keywords, Aquarius too because of the degree. I have Leo Sun and Cancer Mercury in 10H, so I'll look at Mercury & Leo/ Sun too.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Examples

ꕥ In the astrologer's example, she uses Angelina Jolie who has Aries MC in 17°. In her 10H, the planets closest to her MC are Jupiter (exactly conjunct her MC at 17° both) and Mars, which happens to be in the 9H. Aries MC is so ruled by Mars and the 17° is a Leo degree. She explains that Angelina's spouse would be born in a place related to royalty, fights could have happened there, and it can be a very known place too. Jupiter and the 9H (because Aries being ruled by Mars happens to be in the 9H) are both related to traveling, so many people could travel there, it's a very touristic place. Moreover, it can so mean marrying a foreigner. Her first husband, Jonny Lee Miller, was born in England, in a city named Kingston upon Thames. The country is indeed related to royalty and is very famous, but also the city. Originally, the city had another name which translated to "The King's Estate/ Manor". Jupiter is indeed a planet about optimism, success, luck, and generosity but it's also about abundance. Kingston upon Thames makes sense in this case, as it is the King's possession, abundance. Mars could also be so related to a man, it's also a planet about masculinity. The King marking his territory in this case, by calling this city "his" (happened a lot at that time) makes great sense.

ꕥ Jungkook has Libra MC 27°, ruled by Venus. In the 10H, he has Mars in it. But the planet which is the closest is Venus which is in his 9H. Jungkook's FS was born in a place that is related to femininity, anything related to beauty, art, beauty of the soul, sensuality, music, dancing, marriage too could be important in this culture, beauty, fashion, luxury too. The 27° could be related to a certain language, so this could be a place where people speak many different languages and have many different cultures. Many people could live there, and there could be a lot of moments in general. MC's ruler being in the 9H makes a lot more sense as to the fact his FS is a foreigner. Mars here could mean the place they were born in is full of movement, it could be a very active place, so perhaps his FS was born in a capital. Because of the Libra and Venus influence, his FS could be born in a place known for beauty, the way women dress, they way they do their make up, they way they move or act sensual, they could be from a country women are considered goddesses for example, or a place where there could be a lot of jewels for example, or a certain make up style, etc.

ꕥ My sister has Capricorn MC 10°, ruled by Saturn. In the 10H, she doesn't have much as planets, only asteroids. Otherwise, the Sun is very close to the MC and they actually conjunct each other. It seems like my sister's FS will be from a place people work hard, they can come from a wealthy place, a place people have a lot of belongings, though corruption can happen. They can come from a place where people are introvert, don't go talk to people, and they can come from a capital kind of city, big city, etc. An old country too. With the Sun being closed to the MC, the FS can come from a latin country, royalty, a place that is very popular, very visited, almost overrated. Since the ruler is Saturn, we need to look where it falls in her chart, and it falls in 4H in Cancer! And, as I was sure, they def come from the same country. FS comes from a country where traditions are important, and food may be part of it. FS could also come from a place near water, or the ocean, he could also come from the same city as her, or has been close to her this whole time, despite not knowing each other.

ꕥ In my case, I have Cancer MC 23°, ruled by Moon and Mercury being very closed to the MC. Indeed, my FS may not come from the same country as me, but the country he is from has a big interest in my country. His country is also known for being very traditional, and very close to their culture, they also are very into food and mostly their food, they hold a big pride into that. The 23° makes a lot of sense because he comes from a country that is known for being a futuristic place, a technology advanced kind of country, and with Mercury being close to the MC, they indeed have a very good and modernized transportation system. Oh and Cancer here could mean at some point I could have lived where he was born, because indeed that's what happened. This country also has a big idea about family and children in general (very traditional). The country isn't new but it's a recent touristic place, many people wanna go there now. Also it's a place where people are very into studying too. And I also wanna add, that the exact city he was born in is actually a place that is focused on new technology researches lmao. The MC is ruled by Moon, and my Moon is in my 8H in Gemini. I'll focus more on the 8H placement, indeed the country was hidden before, not very noticed until recently, and mostly it was a country that got a rebirth of some sort after war.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Key words and Help

ʚïɞ Aries/ 1H/ 1°,13°, 25°/ Mars

Warm, Summer, Hot, Wars, Fights, Battles, Revolutions, Leadership, Dictatorship, New Country, A lot of people, A lot of things going on, a place with a lot of energies, a lot of movement, a place that can be tiring emotionally, draining, angry people, people who are prideful, passionate people, aggressive people, Latin origin country or place, people who speak a lot with their body, s3x, kissing, people have a reputation for being physical, fast things, things changing fast in that place, arguments, people speaking loudly, strikes, bold, courageous people, the people revolting themselves in the past against the oppression or against a leader, men, kings, emperors, masculine energy, etc.

ʚïɞ Taurus/ 2H/ 2°, 14°, 26°/ Venus

Nature, calm, chill people, pretty people, a country or place with beautiful sights, a country or place known for their beautiful people, food, delicious food, culture is a lot going on with food, pastries, desserts, traditional people, wealthy country, a luxurious and expensive place, country can be expensive too, celebrities living there, hiking, a lot of parks, people speaking a language that is considered beautiful, skin care, people having beauty secrets, people being healthy, in good shape, culture also can be related to beauty and make up, clothing too, old country, Queens, Empresses, women being embodied as Goddesses, flirts, poetry, art, a country known for their arts, museums, a lot of artists, or a lot of artist come to study there, people known for enjoying life, etc.

ʚïɞ Gemini/ 3H/ 3°, 15°, 27°/ Mercury

Transport, a lot of different transport or new transport, a lot of cars, or just a country known for their good transport system, school and education system is very important there, a good education system, country or place is known for school or having smart people, funny people, open minded people, Muti-cultural place, people from different places coming to live here, curious people, gossips, obsessive fans, a lot of stalkers, paparazzis, social medias, people obsessed with social medias, a country known for they advanced technologies, people obsessed with their phone, people who talk loud, people talk more than 2 languages, people know for their books, literature, bookstores, a windy place, a new country, etc.

ʚïɞ Cancer/ 4H/ 4°, 16°, 28°/ Moon

A traditional place, ocean, sea, beach, water, fishes, a lot of fish based food, a country where food is part of their culture, delicious food, a place or country closed to their tradition, an old country, feminine energy, women, goddess, Mother Nature, mothers, pregnancies, babies, giving birth, nurturing, people can be nurturing there, people can seem innocent in this place, introvert people, shy people, very welcoming and warm people, faith, religion, the idea of home & family being important there, someone who speaks the same language as you or live in the same place/ country/ states as you, etc.

ʚïɞ Leo/ 5H/ 5°, 17°, 29°/ Sun

Warm, Summer, Hot, Popular, Royalty, Revolutions, Fame, Celebrities, famous place, a country which is very popular, capitals, big cities, luxurious place, expensive place, rich people, beautiful homes, a lot of historical places, huge monuments, huge buildings, art, creativity, artists, actors/ actresses, movie making, acting, a place known for multiple movies being made there, big movies studios there, movie festivals, boats, yacht, a place that is overrated, very crowdy place, parties, clubs, bars, concerts, living the life of the party, the city that never sleeps, beautiful hair, country known for their hair beauty secrets, etc.

ʚïɞ Virgo/ 6H/ 6°, 18°/ Mercury

Well organized country, a cold country, a cold place, people are distant, people are shy, people work hard, the working time is bigger in this place, detailed oriented people, a neat place, country likes to keep things neat, transportation, a lot of different transport or new transport, a lot of cars, or just a country known for their good transport system, school and education system is very important there, a good education system, country or place is known for school or having smart people, serious people, good health system, country wants their people to be healthy, country known for their healthcare, country known for having a lot of animals, country known for their good healthy food, place known for sport events, place where people have a lot of pets, hospitals, etc.

ʚïɞ Libra/ 7H/ 7°, 19°/ Venus

A country or place with beautiful sights, a country or place known for their beautiful people, wealthy country, a luxurious and expensive place, country can be expensive too, celebrities living there, people speaking a language that is considered beautiful, skin care, people having beauty secrets, people being healthy, in good shape, culture also can be related to beauty and make up, clothing too, old country, Queens, Empresses, women being embodied as Goddesses, flirts, poetry, art, a country known for their arts, museums, a lot of artists, or a lot of artist come to study there, fashion can be very important there, a lot of designers living there, fashion city, surgery, a country specialized in surgeries, people always dressing up well, superficial people, charming people, people being known for their charm, etc.

ʚïɞ Scorpio/ 8H/ 8°, 20°/ Pluto

Wars, Fights, Battles, Revolutions, Leadership, Dictatorship, the people revolting themselves in the past against the oppression or against a leader, night, the city that never sleeps, place where people live more at nights, clubs, bars, s3x, drugs, alcohol, spirituality, occult, scary, death, a culture that is comfortable with the idea of death, a culture that celebrates the dead, being closed to their ancestors, a country that got a "rebirth", a country that "died" and got back, wealthy, corruption, danger, being hidden, slow, people there respecting the old generation, shy people, introvert people, people seem scary or mean, etc.

ʚïɞ Sagittarius/ 9H/ 9°, 21°/ Jupiter

Foreign lands, a country far from where you live, a place where a lot of tourists fly there, airports, a touristic place, a place where many people take another flight, open-minded people, people being spontaneous, people being chill, religion, spirituality, people being close to their religion, religion being part of the culture, faith, multi-cultural place, a famous country, a famous place, wealthy place, a country or place known for their educational system, a place with a big university, known university, a place where a lot of people valued higher studies, a place where it's normalized to study for higher educational system, curious people, wisdom, mature people, etc.

ʚïɞ Capricorn/ 10H/ 10°, 22°/ Saturn

Well organized country, a cold country, a cold place, people are distant, people are shy, people work hard, the working time is bigger in this place, detailed oriented people, school and education system is very important there, a good education system, country or place is known for school or having smart people, serious people, people being closed to their ancestors, wealthy, corruption, banks, materialistic people, high buildings, a place known for their banks or economy, a country not doing good with their mental health awareness, slow, people there respecting the old generation, shy people, introvert people, people seem scary or mean, traditional, introvert people, men, masculine energy, kings, emperors, royalty, an old country, etc.

ʚïɞ Aquarius/ 11H/ 11°, 23°/ Uranus

Transport, a lot of different transport or new transport, a lot of cars, or just a country known for their good transport system, having smart people, funny people, open minded people, Muti-cultural place, people from different places coming to live here, curious people, social medias, people obsessed with social medias, a country known for they advanced technologies, people obsessed with their phone, airports, tourism, high places, high buildings, high divorce rates country, communities, new technologies, futuristic country, a new country, people talk more than 2 languages, Foreign lands, a country far from where you live, a place where a lot of tourists fly there, a place where many people take another flight, open-minded people, people being spontaneous, people being chill, a place many dreams of coming, a place known for dreams coming true, etc.

ʚïɞ Pisces/ 12H/ 12°, 24°/ Neptune

Artistic place, art, creativity, artists, flirts, poetry, art, a country known for their arts, museums, a lot of artists, or a lot of artist come to study there, esotericism, occult, spirituality, drugs, alcohol, hidden, shy people, introvert people, a place many dreams of coming, a place known for dreams coming true, ocean, sea, beach, water, fishes, a lot of fish based food, yacht, boats, sailing, fishermen, country or place with a lot of legends, good health system, country wants their people to be healthy, country known for their healthcare, mental health awareness, a country many people have illusions about, a country many people forget exists, a country over consumed by tourism, legal drugs, etc.

Thank you for reading!

back to index ; ask ; request ; rules ; instagram

[retroaria]

Michael Kaiser. That’s it. That’s the post.

i’m having kaiser thoughts. i’m pondering my orb, and all it’s showing me is michael kaiser. the evil voices in my head (my ask box) are taunting me (sending very nice requests) to sell my soul to michael kaiser (finally write something about him) and so here i am.

summary: random kaiser hc’s (lmk if you want more/nsfw ones)

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | enjoy 🪽 - aria

• thinking about how possessive he would be in a relationship. it isn’t overbearing, in the sense that he trusts you and lets you do you’re own thing. however, he’s a rather insecure man behind all that smug douchebaggery that he puts off and he has a hard time watching you interact with other men of his same stature. because truly, no matter how good he is to you, he isn’t the best person all around. there are guys out there that would be better for you and he can’t help be fear that you’ll be swept off your feet and taken from him.

• Kaiser is gentle with you. you actually turned him into a completely different person. It’s not that you’ve really changed him at his core, but you’ve opened him up to love he didn’t know before, and so he feels like he has nothing to be afraid of with you. he’s vulnerable and expressive and happy with you. he makes sure to provide that same experience for you in the relationship, making sure you always know you can go to him for anything and you don’t have to hide anything from him.

• In the beginning of the relationship, Kaiser is very protective of your privacy. He’s really afraid of the consequences that may come with the world knowing who you are and who you are to him. he’s not naive, he knows there’s bad people out there. not only that, but it’s no one else’s right to know you’re love for each other. i see him doing a soft launch and that’s it. after that he’ll post you on occasion and be a little less aggressive about hiding from paparazzi, but he still doesn’t want to share you. you’re his whole world, keyword HIS.

• kaiser LOVES intimacy. physical or emotional, he loves those sweet loving moments that come to fruition from the trust and bond the two of you have cultivated. he loves showering and taking baths with you, relishing in the gentle touches as the two of you clean each other up. they’re always filled with soft giggles and quick kisses, before drying each other off and snuggling up. he loves listening to you talk about your day, not sparing him from details you may have spared others from. telling him all the thoughts and actions you aren’t proud of, unafraid of being judged in his eyes. the vulnerability of it all makes his heart beat fast, but you’re both so trusting and in love that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

• this might be a hot take, but i feel like the concept of marriage would scare him a bit. it’s not that he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life with you, because he absolutely does and already plans on it. it’s just a level of commitment that he never thought anyone would dedicate to him. he doesn’t want you to end up regretting it in the future. he doesn’t shy away from conversation about it though, he actually wants you guys to talk about it and get a feel for where you both stand. when the time comes to take that next step, he’s as ready as ever. just make sure you don’t break his heart please (or i’ll find you bro.)

• dates with kaiser can either be extravagant and classy or they can be chill and sweet, he can do both. sometimes he wants to take you to the nicest restaurants he can fine, see you all dolled up looking absolutely stunning for him, and pamper you the entire night. other times he just wants the two of you to do something fun and spontaneous, would take you to a fair and win you all the stuffed animals you want, or would take you on a stroll around the city, letting you frolick through the shops while he holds all your bags for you. he’s such a gentleman either way.

• kaiser loves being domestic with you. doing the laundry, grocery shopping, cleaning the house, making dinner, he loves it. in those moments he finds himself wishing they would last forever, just the two of you existing in each others presence, he has nothing to worry about.

moon divider- @strangergraphics-archive

[notjustjavierpena]

Practice Makes Perfect

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: You know I had to. Can you tell I have studied rhetorics at uni?

Summary: You are Mr. Ted Garcia’s political advisor and you help him with practicing his upcoming speech.

Pairing: Ted Garcia x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, oral sex m receiving, strip tease, dirty talk, verbal humiliation, praise kink, come swallowing, face-fucking

Word count: 2.4k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54597913

Practice Makes Perfect

“Go over it again,” you order as you are perched on the desk, one leg crossed over the other by the knee and your red-bottom stiletto dangling from your toes. You are gripping the edge of the table, and whereas your position looks downright sinful, the smile on your face sports innocence, “Go on, Mr. Re-elected Mayor.”

Ted whips around to face you, reaching up to loosen the knot on his tie. He smiles, a little uncertain of what to make of you, “You don’t know that yet, sweetheart.”

“I know you won’t win the reelection if you don’t practice,” you shrug your shoulders and then move your hands to lean back on your arms. 

“I’ve gone over it a million times,” he says with a sigh, “Would much rather call it a day and order some food. We haven’t had Chinese in a while, have we?”

“Ted,” you stop him, “I need the speech tomorrow to be absolutely flawless. I’m your advisor; it’ll reflect badly on me if you stumble. Not to mention, I’m a woman so I have to work twice as hard to earn the public’s respect. They probably think you hired me to suck cock. That’s what they’re saying anyway.”

“Didn’t I?” He jokes and steps towards you. 

You glare at him but there’s no malice in it, “I could get you fired for that statement, you know.”

“I should fire you for being so distracting,” he retorts. When he gets close enough, he reaches out to curl a strong hand around your thigh and uncrosses your legs. He steps between them but you shake your head when he tries to lean over you. 

“Go over it again,” you repeat. You lean back a little further until you are able to lift your leg and place your heel on his chest, pushing him backward and away from you. He follows your silent order of staying back but still grabs your ankle hard enough to make you shiver. 

“From the top,” you say to not lose face. 

“And if I don’t, Ms. Advisor?” He challenges. 

“You’ll regret it,” you tease him by sounding almost bored, “Try and see what happens.” 

Ted sighs and lets go of your leg, simultaneously letting go of the idea of getting to fuck you as a way of ending his work day. He moves back to the center of his office, clears his throat, and shakes his arms as if trying to loosen up his tense body, “Right, let’s give it another go.”

You cross your legs again and wait. He is going to have no idea what hits him. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of our beloved city, as I stand before you today, I am filled with hope and optimism for the future of our city…” He begins and his tone is laced with a charm that you know better than to believe. Others, however, will eat it up. 

“Very good, Ted,” you praise when he is a few more lines in. He meets your eyes for approval, a playful smirk on his lips. You wipe it off his face not a moment after, having reached up to unbutton your shirt until it falls open and reveals your lace bra, “Continue.”

Ted’s gaze shamelessly lingers on your chest for a few seconds before he does as he is told. It is so easy, like Pavlov’s dog.

“We stand at a crossroads, where the decisions we make today will shape the trajectory of our city for generations to come,” he speaks with confidence, fuelled by the shirt falling off your shoulders and pooling around you on the desk. He looks deep in thought as he tries to remember the keywords that guide him forward in his speech but when you let a shoe fall to the floor, only to let the other one follow, he looks up to satisfy his curiosity, “And I believe that embracing technology is not just an option, but a necessity if we are to thrive in the 21st century.”

“God, you are killing it, Mr. Garcia,” you are only in your skirt and bra now but the bra won’t stay on for much longer. You reach up behind you to unclasp it but there’s no follow-through. You raise a brow in disapproval, “Well?”

“Fuck, where was I?” He runs a hand through his hair. You don’t blame him for forgetting because he doesn’t seem to have blood in his brain right now; it appears to have gone south where he is tenting in his suit pants. 

“A mayor doesn’t swear,” you tut with a little shake of your head, hand still in a waiting position to expose your tits to him. You decide to help him, “My vision for our city…”

“My vision for our city is one where technology serves as a catalyst for positive change!” His voice is slightly louder than normal as if relief floods him because he knows by now that remembering will get him to see you naked. He straightens, “Where innovation brings economic growth, and where every person has the opportunity to succeed.”

You undo your bra and let the straps fall down your arms until you teasingly drop it onto the floor. Your breasts are exposed to the air conditioning unit sending out cold air in the mayor’s office, immediately causing your nipples to harden at the temperature drop. You let out a teasing moan and jump off the desk to make your tits bounce obscenely, “I wanna hear more, Ted. Please.”

“I— uhh,” his gaze is fixed on your chest.

You place a hand on the skirt’s zipper along your side, teasingly pulling it down along your thigh. It seems to kickstart his memory again, “Where smart infrastructure optimizes traffic flow, reduces energy consumption for a greener future, and - Jesus, baby - and thus enhances public safety. A city where access to high-speed internet and the newest devices is not a luxury, but a fundamental right…”

“God, you are so sexy like this,” you say with a grin, hoping that he catches onto the way your eyes drop to his mouth when he speaks, “Nearly convincing me, baby.”

You start to wiggle your hips to get out of your pencil skirt, causing your whole body to shake as you move the fabric down over your legs. It makes Mayor Candidate Ted Garcia’s whole brain go dumb because he stops reciting his speech altogether and simply admires the way your breasts jump with every movement of your lower body. 

“Did I tell you to stop?” You ask when the skirt lies in the pile with your bra and shoes. You hook your thumbs into the waistband of your matching lace panties, “Just a little more.”

“But you’re nearly undressed,” he points out and hits his chest to clear his throat when his voice seems to have gone up an octave. He looks almost pained when you stop any motion to step out of your underwear. 

“Listen, here’s what’s going to happen,” you move to stand in front of him with only inches between the two of you, “You’ll make the rest of the speech I wrote with your sexy, big cock in my mouth, and I won’t make you finish until you’re finished.”

Ted swallows thickly. He nods and tries to be cocky one last time during your relentless teasing, “You sure I didn’t hire you because of your fellatio skills?” 

“Why don’t you use your own tongue instead of worrying about mine and make those little words roll off it?” You bite back, “One more line.” 

“H-however, embracing technology is about a lot more than just improving efficiency,” he tries his best not to stutter too much. Oh, you cannot wait to hear him lose it when you close your lips around his beautiful cock. 

“Mhm, what’s it about then?” You encourage. The panties come off then, pooling around your feet until you kick them to the side. 

“It's also about fostering a culture of innovation and entrepreneurship,” he replies with his eyes between your thighs to watch your throbbing cunt. Despite your cool demeanor, you have never wanted him more than right now, and seeing him desperate and faltering because of something you have done is a feeling out of this world. 

You sink to your knees with a dirty smile, keeping your eyes on him the whole time to watch the satisfying sight of his burning desire corrupting his concentration. You wish to tell him that he is so good today, that he hadn’t lied about going over the speech a million times. 

You settle for showing it instead, undoing the button on his black slacks and then the zipper. He twitches behind the fabric. You are salivating by now, aching between your thighs to taste him on your tongue. You pull out his cock with little effort, grinning mischievously up through your lashes as it springs free and nearly hits your cheek. 

“I’ll start dripping on your floor if you get it right, don’t you want that?” You say it and then start to gather spit in your mouth, preparing yourself for his generous size to slide past your lips. 

“I want that,” he breathes, “Fuck yes, I want that.”

“Then tell me what you envision,” you hint and then you take him into your hot, waiting mouth. He tastes so fucking good, heavy on your tongue as you relax your jaw until he stabs the back of your throat. 

He sucks in a breath as you hollow your cheeks and slowly pull off, only to repeat the move again and again, “I envision our city attracting the brightest minds from around the globe to come—“

You hum around his girth at the choice of word, a giggle bubbling up in your throat. The vibration of your noise makes Ted settle a hand on top of your bobbing head, ready to yank if it becomes too much and he needs release right then and there. He corrects himself professionally but falters once more because you moan at the taste of his precome oozing from the tip, “I mean work together and create the next huge— b-big thing.”

You reach underneath his dick to cup his balls and massage them in your palm, working your lips up and down his shaft simultaneously. You have to breathe deeply through your nose, resulting in your neck muscles tightening slightly while he speaks. 

Ted moans out loud for the first time then, having gone past simply stuttering and swearing. He looks down at you with a slack jaw, and when he stays quiet for just a little too long, you start to pull off. He sounds panicked, yelling out a no. 

“Of course, with great technological advancements come great responsibilities. We must be vigilant in protecting the privacy and security of our citizens,” as soon as he starts again, you go back into it with even more enthusiasm, removing your hand from his balls to reach up and grip his hip. You pull at it to show him what you want, and he breaks the long streak he has had with simply reciting his speech for tomorrow, “You want me to fuck that dirty little mouth? Huh?”

You moan in confirmation, nodding with his cock far down your throat. The eyes you send him have him breathing hard and nodding repeatedly, doing an experimental thrust, “Yeah, that’s what you want. You just wanna please your local elected official, you little slut.” 

He can’t fail now. You furrow your brow up at him, trying to look displeased despite how wet you are right there on the floor. He catches on, tries his best to talk comprehensively whilst sliding wetly and repeatedly past the very tight space at the back of your mouth, “R-right, where was I? Shit, that’s right. That's why I will do everything in my power to implement the correct measures and promote trans - fuuuck - parency.”

You press your thighs together when you hear him moan through the end of his speech. He sounds so sexy that you can’t imagine stopping even if he doesn’t get to the last word, and you whimper around his thick cock to push him closer to the edge. 

It’s the first tear that falls from your eye that has him on the brink but he still powers through, “Together, we can use the power of technology to build a city where innovation knows no bounds, and where the sky is truly the limit.”

You are sure it looks like you’ve pissed yourself with how wet you are by now, a patch having formed underneath your dripping cunt. You move your hips to find some kind of friction but to no avail. Above you, Ted rounds off his speech.

“So I ask you, my fellow citizens - fuck, honey, I’m gonna come… I’m gonna come right in your pretty mouth, ah, ah, a-almost - uhh, to join me on this journey towards a brighter future,” he thrusts his hips even faster at this point, his pitch climbing until he is whining instead of talking. The way you can feel his pulse on your lips lets you know that he isn’t lying, so you allow him to fuck your throat frantically even if it hurts a little, “Let us embrace technology with open arms, and together, we will— we will— shit, we will build a city that we can be proud to call home. Thank you!”

He comes as soon as he has said those last two words, and they become his mantra as he spills down your throat with several twitches of his cock that simply will not stop, “Thank you, oh fuck, thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

You swallow greedily, sucking him completely clean until he shakes his head in oversensitivity and pulls out of your mouth. He tastes like himself and power, enough to get you drunk. 

“You are fucking fantastic,” he groans when tucking himself back into his pants. He crouches down to meet you at eye level, marveling at the way you are practically fucking yourself onto the air, “My sweet girl.”

“Fuck, I need you,” you pant with tear-streaked cheeks. 

“Here’s an idea since I did so well,” he starts, reaching into his pocket to hand you his phone, “How about you call and order us some food and I rub your cute little clit while you do it? Then we’ll see who is the real professional orator here.”

You want to reply but you can barely press the number of his favorite Chinese place and you almost come the second he touches between your thighs. 

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[littleeyesofpallas]

So, with the new legends there's a neat way we can take a guess at some of the time frame. Although it's largely aesthetic and hard to gauge the intended historical parallels of, the not-Eiffel Tower at the center of the city could presumably have been completed in the late 1880s like the real thing. Interestingly that places it pretty concurrent to the construction of the Hokkaido Government building in the 1870s that served as the basis of the Galaxy Team HQ in the first Legends game.

But with the keywords being "urban redevelopment" the setting could only possibly be Haussman's renovation of Paris that took place from the 1850s-1920s. So given that the tower is already standing, that places Legends Z-A between 1889 and 1927.

And I doubt it would play into the setting of a Pokemon game but I think it's neat that it would mean taking place firmly in the 3rd French Republic, as that's not typically the most romanticized period of French history. (Kind of shocking given just how much Japanese pop culture loves to fixate on the Ancien Regime and Rococco architecture.) It's right at the height of the French Colonial empire and their rivalry with the British... Even if they don't address the history directly, certainly not the darker bits, I wonder if we'll see an ancestor of Rose* and some mention of Kalos and Galar's relation as a hint at the Pokemon world's equivalent of India. (Elephant, what elephant...)

*put a pin in that... Well come back to Rose later...

Also I know a lot of the stupid "leaks" that were just running with any/every rumor they could find had been talking about Celebi, despite there being no signs of it in the direct, but it's possible that the Z-A title and the fadethru of the sort of sci-fi looking city diagram into a pencil and parchment one is indicating going back in time --backwards, from Z to A, end to start.

and just so long as I'm just picking at edges of things...

The unknown are an anagram of, "POKEMON PRESENTS"(oh and the SOEYUE one at the end is just "SEE YOU") and the ""confidential"" stamp on the documents likely reads "Gokuhi" as in gokuhi[極秘]: "Top Secret," but the rest of the text doesn't seem to match either Japanese, French, or English,

Hito to POKEMON no kyouzon o yumemite[人と ポケモンの共存を夢見て]: "Dreaming of people and Pokemon's coexistence" Toshisaikaibatsu hassou MIARE CITY[都市再開発発想ミアレシティ]: "Urban Redevelopment Concept Miare City"

The obvious exception being that redacted text is clearly the romanized MIARE from the Japanese MIARE[ミアレ] and the English CITY, which is the Japanese name for what was localized as "Lumiose."

Curiously the word "Pokemon" is very clearly missing from the passage, and also in both cases there are too few "Galarian" characters for how long the phrases are in any actual language.

and finally, given some of the existing examples of handwritten Galarian in SwSh, I'm guessing the text on the big logo is as i've transcribed into the more standard Galar font, although I'm really uncertain about that second one, and a bit iffy about the big "X"s, but the little cyclone O, the V with the underbar, and the E seem certain enough.

Also there's a logo I know I remember seeing that looks like this one but I can't remember where it is or what it's associated with.... It's the logo on the Macro Cosmos power plant. Not Rose's personal logo with the stylized rose, and not the Cosmos business logo with the big star system orbital ring Cs, but the power plant in Hammerlock where you go to fight Eternatus specifically.

It would be really neat if whatever this organization is was tied back to an ancestor of Rose and Peony and the origins of Macro Cosmos somehow.

[that1emowitch]

Bruce, high on painkillers, is being babysat by Jason. Jason has to do an emergency Red Hood thing, and lacking an alternative, slaps a stock domino on Bruce and drags him along.

Bruce proceeds to say/do the most unhinged shit. The goons are suddenly viscerally aware of where Hood got it from.

WOW okay you guys are unhinged, you know that?

(And I love it <3)

A/N: I fully intended to write a crack fic, but the feels crawled in through the plot holes I missed and made their homes in the heart of the story. Also I don't know what you mean by 'stock domino' so I'm assuming it's one of those dollar store ripoffs.

(TW: Accidental overdosing on painkillers, mentions of blood, Jason's usual level of swearing, some goons almost dying but like in a funny way.)

Word Count: 2328

Jason wants to scream.

Like, let it rip out on an abandoned cliff in the howling rain kinda scream.

But no, he's stuck babysitting Brucie Wayne who accidentally OD'd on fucking painkillers after trying to treat himself in Alfred's unfortunate absence (how does that even happen?!).

Dick and Damian are out doing some brotherly-bonding thing, Tim's with the Titans, Duke and Cass are at the movies, and Steph has declared herself "not one of Bruce's kids." Leaving Jason as the only one free to look after their "Dad".

Jason pushes Bruce down on the Batcave's gurney for the billionth time after he attempts (keyword: attempts) to walk again, scowling. None of them are getting any waffles from me again. Or pancakes. Or scones. Or anything I make for them out of my sweet, kind heart. Those little shits.

Jason puts two fingers on Bruce’s wrist, checking his pulse. His skin is cold and clammy, breathing slow, but at least he’s not vomiting anymore. He sighs, collapsing on a chair beside Bruce. He's tired. So fucking tired.

Just as Jason's eyes flutter shut for a moment, the Batcomputer's alarm suddenly blares.

Bruce shoots up, shouting, "ALARM!"

Grumbling, Jason drags himself to the computer, pushing Bruce down along the way. He opens the glaring red notification, brows creased.

Black Mask's goons have intercepted some military shipment...

"Ugh..." Jason groans, and moves to put on his helmet (he never changed out of his costume), checking his guns, when a sudden crash from behind him snaps his attention to the man-child he's supposed to be babysitting.

Bruce has stepped off the gurney and collapsed face-down on the med bay's floor.

He can't just leave him there, can he?

Jason considers his options: He could either strap Bruce to the gurney and leave (in which case Dick will have his head), or he could take Bruce out on the streets with him (in which case Dick will absolutely want to murder him.)

Jason smirks. It’s obvious which one’s the right choice.

Ten minutes later, Jason’s riding through the city at over a hundred miles per hour, with Bruce strapped to the backseat of his motorcycle. Bruce is wearing a dollar store ripoff of the Robin domino and a Robin-themed cape made of Tim’s bedsheets, looking absolutely ecstatic at the high speed.

They arrive at the warehouse where Black Mask’s goons have transported their stolen goods, parking in a shadowed spot a building away. Jason gets off, helping Bruce onto his feet, and says, “Now, I’m going to go shoot some people, you stay hidden and quiet, got that?”

“Guns are bad,” Bruce replies, holding a finger to Jason’s helmet. “Just like clowns. And ducks.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jason shakes his head. He doesn’t have time for this right now.

Jason quickly scales the nearest building, grappling to the roof of the warehouse. He peeks in through a hatch in the roof to survey the area. There are about a dozen armed goons, none of them looking very bright. There are 4 crates they’re guarding, likely filled with ammo.

Cocking his guns, Jason jumps down through the hatch, landing right in the middle of the warehouse with a ‘thud’ sound. “Surprise,” He grins, raising his guns.

“Aye, that’s Red Hood, ain’t it?” Comes a goon’s terrified voice. The others around him immediately aim their guns at Jason— they’re clearly untrained.

Suddenly there’s another thud behind him. “That’s a bucket, you morons!” Comes a too-familiar, slurred voice. Jason turns around to come face-to-face with Bruce, eyes wide. 

In a fight with any real criminals, this distraction would have cost Jason his life. But luckily these adorably clueless goons are just as shocked as him.

Unfortunately the distraction only lasts for a few seconds. Jason immediately jumps into the fight, shooting three goons in the kneecaps and dodging a few bullets. From the corner of his eye, he sees two more goons running out the door, crying. He punches another guy in the face, instantly knocking him out, and is about to turn back to check on Bruce when suddenly something hard collides with his skull.

Jason staggers slightly, trying to regain his balance, when he sees a goon holding a giant stone, wearing a proud grin.

Fuck, his helmet’s probably busted…

Then suddenly Bruce is running towards the goon, hands fisted and veins popping, screaming, “NO ONE HURTS MY SON!”

Then Bruce’s fist collides with the goon’s with a sickening crunch, splattering blood across the floor as the man crumples to the ground. Bruce doesn’t stop there, and continues to beat him up, yelling profanities.

It warms Jason’s cold, (un)dead heart to watch that— to see his Dad fighting for him. It’s like they say, you’re most truthful when you’re drunk— or high. This is how much Bruce loves him.

Then another thought strikes him— Bruce is going to regret being this violent when he sobers up. It’s going to claw at him, tear him up, and he’s going to compartmentalize and end up punishing himself by overworking.

Jason rushes forward, pulling Bruce off of the man. “B— Robin, stop!” He shouted, looking into the man’s domino-covered eyes.

Bruce’s brows furrow. “Robin?”

Jason points to Bruce’s Robin-themed cape and stock domino.

“Ah.” Bruce nods, pulling away. “You okay? Did you see any duck?”

“Duck?” Jason pauses in confusion. But before he can question it farther, he spies the three remaining goons using a ladder to climb up through the roof of the warehouse, trying to escape.

“Stay here. And do not move.” Jason orders Bruce, and runs after them.

He makes his way up the ladder as fast as he can , exiting under the polluted night sky. The goons, the ridiculously stupid goons, are standing around the edge of the roof, trying to figure out how they’re going to get down.

He doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this ridiculous shit.

Actually, scratch that, he doesn’t get paid at all.

“Wow, you guys are pathetic,” Comes Red Hood’s robotic voice, startling the goons, and one of them accidentally topples over the edge, screaming. Jason ensures that the guy’s hanging on tight— he can wait.

He cocks his guns, aiming both at the two standing goons. Both men are trembling with fear, hands up in surrender. “Hood— Mr. Hood, please—” One of them squeaks, but one look from Jason shuts him up.

“Please. Mr. Hood was my father,” Jason quips, his robotic chuckle sounding sinister. 

That’s when he hears another voice behind him (again)— “But I’m your father.”

Jason jumps, whipping around. “How did you— I didn’t even hear you come!”

Bruce just shrugs innocently, waving his bloodstained hands at the terrified goons.

Then Jason hears the distinct sound of a gun being cocked. From the corner of his eye he sees the bolder of the goons, the one that had spoken before, taking aim.

“DUCK!” He yells, falling out of the way.

Instead of dodging, Bruce falls into a defensive stance, looking around frantically. “Where?!”

The bullet barely misses Bruce’s ear as he turns his head.

Jason has had it with sky-high Bruce now. Annoyance rising, he quickly shoots the two goons in the kneecaps, forgetting about the one hanging off the edge, and stalks up to Bruce, glaring.

“What is up with you and ducks?!” He demands, his voice raised.

“Ducks are evil,” Bruce spits, nose wrinkled. “Just like clowns. And bats.”

Jason’s brows raise. “Bats are evil?”

“Yeah, duh, that’s why everyone’s scared of Batman.” Bruce rolls his eyes, his drawl sounding too much like Steph. “Bats are scary.”

“You really took ‘become what you fear’ too literally, huh?” Jason snorts, putting his guns back in their holsters. Then he takes off his helmet, checking the damage— just a slight crack at the back. Not too bad.

“You know, I fell into a hole and into a cave when I was a boy and a dozen bats attacked me. I nearly died.” Bruce continues, gesturing towards the air with his hands. 

“Yeah, right.” Jason shakes his head, chuckling. “Now come on, we gotta get you back.”

That’s when another voice rings out, high-pitched and scared. “Um, Mr. Hood? Please HELP! Please, please, please—”

Jason’s attention snaps to the corner of the roof— ah, right, the goon’s still hanging off the edge, isn’t he?

He grumbles, making his way over, and squats above the man, shaking his head. The man below him looks like he’s pissed himself, face ashen, tears running down his cheeks, muttering, “I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die…” On repeat.

“I’ll pull you up on one condition,” Jason looks down at him, voice low. “Never become a gun for hire again. If I see you fighting on the streets…” He pulls out his gun.

“No, no, I won’t, I swear…” The man whimpers, eyes squeezed shut. Jason sighs, and grabs the man by the collar and hauls him up. He crumples onto the roof, curling into a ball.

“Take out your phone and dial 911, tell them you’ve been naughty,” Jason orders, his gun pointed at the man’s head. (What? A guy needs to have some fun.)

The man whines, and immediately obliges.

“Pathetic,” Jason ties the man up quickly, and makes his way over to Bruce, who was sitting on the floor of the roof, taking apart some random crushed handphone he’s found.

“Get up, old man. GCPD will be here soon. We’re going home.” He pulls Bruce up, ignoring how he longingly stares at the dismantled phone.

The two of them grapple down from the roof, landing safely on the pavement. As they walk towards his bike, Bruce says, “Did you know I ate a phone once?”

Jason stumbles slightly. “What?”

“Tasted nice. Like electricity. Crackle-y.” Bruce hummed, his face straight (as straight as someone dating Superman could be). He isn't kidding.

That, or he's delusional.

“Don't try it. You might turn into a computer or something.” Bruce nodded very seriously.

“Oh god,” Jason snorts. “I'm so glad my helmet’s recording all this. Perfect blackmail material.”

“Black's a very, very pretty color.”

Jason rolls his eyes, revving the motor, making sure Bruce is safely strapped onto the backseat behind him. “You're just emo.”

“What's emo?” Bruce raises an eyebrow, words slightly slurred.

“Y'know, when people wear all that black makeup, skinny jeans, with hair covering their eyes.” Jason explains, putting a spare helmet on Bruce's head. “And listen to, like, My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy and Panic! At The Disco. The Emo Trinity.”

“Oh, oh!” Bruce's eyes sparkle. “Dickie used to do that! He went to a My Chemmy concert once, but he didn't want me coming along.” He pouts.

Jason thinks of all the times Gerard Way has shoved a mic down his throat and grabbed his junk. “Yeah, I wonder why.”

Then he turns around to look Bruce in the eye. “But, Golden Boy was emo? Seriously?”

Bruce just smiles and nods, saying, “Now go.”

“Going,” Jason smirks and speeds down the streets of Gotham city, not slowing down until their surroundings change from shitty apartment buildings and broken street lights to the eerie quiet of Bristol. He can see the Manor in the distance when he takes a hidden turn, straight down the road that leads to the Batcave. 

He pulls into the underground ‘garage’ section of the Cave, parking his bike before helping Bruce off. As he removes Bruce’s ripoff domino and “cape”, he says sternly, “Now, you tell no one of what we did today, got that? Not a soul.”

Bruce just flashes a thumbs-up and smiles in the most un-Bruce-like way possible. It’s a little creepy, honestly.

“And even if you remember this once you sober up you won’t talk, because you swore on your soul not to tell.”

“Mhm. Kay.”

“Good.” Jason smiles slightly, helping Bruce back to the gurney, making him lie down. He checks him over for any symptoms that the painkiller overdose is making his health worse. His skin’s still cold and clammy, but his breathing’s more steady. His pupils aren’t as small anymore, and he’s way more responsive than he was an hour ago.

Huh. Maybe all he really needed was some exercise.

Jason sits down beside his father, taking a deep breath. “Hey, uh… Did you really mean that, back there? That… That I’m your son?”

Bruce’s brows furrow. “Yes, who else’s son would you be? Superman’s?”

A short laugh escapes Jason. He moves closer to Bruce, lying down so his head is resting beside the older man’s. “I just…” He sighs, unable to form the right words. “I know it doesn’t always seem like it, but… I love you, Dad.”

“Aww, Jaybird…” Bruce’s hand moves sluggishly to cradle Jason. “I love you so much more than you could ever imagine.”

A small smile plays on Jason’s lips as he closes his eyes, leaning into his Dad’s touch. Maybe… maybe babysitting a high Bruce isn’t so bad.

[BONUS!!!]

Dick walks into the infirmary nearly an hour later with Damian trailing behind him, intending to check up on Bruce. He’s been ringing Jason’s phone for a while now, but he hasn’t been picking up. And… Honestly, Dick’s getting worried.

“Tt. I knew we shouldn’t have left Father’s safety in the hands of an incompetent fool such as Todd,” Damian frowns, scowling.

“No, no, it’s probably just a misunderstanding,” Dick tries to reassure his baby brother, but he picks up his pace. “I mean, we both know what Jason’s like. One moment he’s nice, one moment he’s—”

His voice trails off as he sees Jason sitting on a chair beside Bruce, who’s on the gurney— both asleep, with Jason’s head resting on Bruce’s shoulder, and Bruce cradling him.

“Aww, Little Wing…” Dick smiles, pausing. Even Damian freezes behind him. Dick steers him away, back into the main house, so as to not disturb the sleeping pair. “Yeah, they’re okay. Nothing bad happened.”

[thevoidstaredback]

Clark hadn't meant to spend so long in Gotham. In fact, he'd intended to leave as soon as he was done interviewing Misters Wayne! But then his train had been delayed. And then he'd seen Signal...

Staying was a huge risk. He didn't know why Batman didn't want any of the Justice League in Gotham, but he was willing to bet that it had something to do with the amount of rogue attacks.

It's a miracle that neither a rogue or Batman showed up. Though, Batman' wouldn't have recognised him, he was not willing to risk messing up like that.

Until now.

Clark had decided to see what exactly goes on in Gotham City, New Jersey. Despite it being known nationally, there isn't really a clear picture about what goes on within the city limits. Maybe he can convince his boss to let him do a story on it? Then again, Bruce Wayne is his new boss, now that he's gone and bought the Daily Planet. Thoughts for another time.

He did not mean to get tied up like this. Literally. His exploration was only meant to last just until the last train of the day! But then he'd gone and gotten himself kidnapped!

Lois is going to laugh so hard at him.

And it's not that it's too hard for him to escape. These ropes are weaker than the ones Ma and Pa use on the farm, and the knot's easier to untie than a slip-knot. He can't because there's people watching him.

Batman can never know.

Batman probably already knows.

If Batman could laugh, Clark's beyond sure that he'd be rolling.

There was no fanfare when he was taken. Just someone pulling him into a van he walked by before diving off a they tied him up. Honestly, if it wasn't such an inconvenience, he'd admire how smoothly it was pulled off.

Things like this don't happen in Metropolis. They do! But, he's never really had to deal with them. That's usually the police's job, so he stays out of it. Unless nothing gets done...that's when he steps in.

Does this happen a lot in Gotham? From stories he's heard, he assumed drugs and big Rogues were the more constant threats, but this was too well done to be amateurs.

Regardless, this is a humiliating situation to now be in. Ridiculous, really, that he'd let his guard down. And if Batman or Lois don't lord it over him until they die, Diana will.

The others can never know.

With a quiet sigh, Clark does his damndest to look like his struggling without shredding the ropes or shattering the chair. It's much harder feat than first assumed. After a while, he 'gives up' and surveys the room.

There's a group of people mulling about a few yards away from him, though three of them are looking at him at a time. They're all armed with at least two weapons each.

Focusing his hearing, Clark picks up quiet discussion of a randsome. He has to do a double take.

Are they- They're trying to randsome him? He doesn't even live in Gotham! And, he can feel his wallet in his back pocket, so they obviously don't know his name or work. Also, he doesn't like his picture (as Clark Kent) taken, so there's no way they picked him for his face!

More of the group's - there's ten there, not that he's focusing - discussion reveals the name Bruce Wayne.

Why would they be talking about Bruce Wayne while holding Clark Kent hostage?

He sends his hearing to the police station, listening for the keyword 'randsome'. When that gives no results, which is very unfortunate and another thing that is different from Metropolis, he goes to the rest of the city. Maybe the note was en route?

Clark picks up a conversation from five different places in the city. One, the female, is stationary near the middle of the city; the oldest voice and the youngest are together; the other two are spread out. They're all nearing him.

Oh. He knows that voice.

He was right. Batman does already know.

He can do nothing but drop his head and sigh in dispaire.

Why couldn't these guys have been cultists? At least then he'd have an excuse - however flimsy - to have been caught off guard!

If that's Batman, than Robin must be with him. That means that Red Robin is one of the two already closing in on him. (Judging by the weight and movements, he's the closest one) Clark doesn't recognise the other two voices, but he can assume they also work with Batman while in Gotham.

It could be worse, he supposes. It could be Nightwing rescuing him.

He's already never living this down. nightwing would make fun of him for this incident in the afterlife, too.

The only warning that something had entered the build was the slow dawning of terror that Clark felt. He knew that his captors felt it, too, because they all snapped upright, weapons in hand and aimed at every entrance.

There was a presence behind him just as the rope trying to hold him down was cut.

"Hello Uncle Clark," said a voice that Clarks sure he's heard, but can't quite place, "Nightwing's gonna be all over this when he gets back on-world."

Clark doesn't move, even though the rope's been cut. "Please don't tell him..."

"Too late, C. The message is ready to be sent the second he's back in the solar system."

Clark curses under his breath while the voice laughs, the presence fading just as quick as it had appeared.

I the rafters, the sound of bat wings draws all weapons up. Clark still doesn't move. Then, as the shadows grow darker, the chirps of three birds start to softly call. His captors start firing, shattering the glass in the windows.

He takes this as his cue to get the hell out of dodge, though he only moves to the roof of the next building over.

From outside, it looks as though there's nothing going on inside the building his just left. A closer look shows shadows moving, but not a single sound. The clouds covering the moon makes the entire thing worse.

There's a pressure before his best friend is right behind him.

"What are you doing in Gotham, Kal?"

"I'm here for work, actually."

"You finished your assignment hours ago. Why are you still here?"

He shrugs. "Can't I visit my friend in his home?"

"You did."

"What?"

"You came, you saw. Go home, Kal."

"Wait a second!" He finally turns to the dark silhouette beside him. "What do you mean I already saw you?"

Batman hums quietly. The buzz of the woman's voice in his ear tells him that the area's clear and that the others are heading back out. Slowly, Batman reaches for his head and pulls off his cowl.

Clark knows for a fact that his best friend loves messing with people. Underneath all his brooding, he's a ridiculous person at heart. So this? This suddenly makes sense. But, also not at all.

"Clark." Bruce Wayne greets with a smirk.

Clark bluescreens for a moment. "Mister Wayne?"

He laughs. Laughs! "You've known me long enough to call me by my name, Clark."

"What the fuck?" He finds these words very appropriate.

"Those guys thought you were me," Bruce fucking Wayne says with a laugh in his voice. "I can see why they'd get confused. We do look alike, after all."

"You guys could practically be twins!" the woman's voice calls from the comm inside of Batman's cowl.

Side note: Turns out that the cowl and cape are not, in fact, connected.

"I need a goddamn drink." Clark sighs again.

"Come back to the Manor; I'll join you for a nightcap." Bruce smiles.

Prick.

Part 2 Storyboard

[coichii]

SUNFLOWER - HAN

pairing - spiderman!bf!han ♥︎ fem!reader

genre: angst & comfort

word count: 1.8k

warnings: cursing, reader thinks Han died, shitty writing that I thought was good at first

summary : Han led a double life, being your loveable boyfriend to Spiderman in the blank of an eye, obviously always putting himself in harms way for the sake of Brooklyn. You knew this about him, doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare you to death whenever he gets hurt.

A tap on the window stops your thoughts.

It’s 10pm on a Tuesday, so a knock on the window of your 7 floor apartment building in the middle of a dangerous city isn’t very, well, welcoming.

Carefully, you stand up, not failing to grab the hard baseball bat laying in you closet for moments like these.

Slowly and quietly, you make your way to the window, opening it and putting your weapon into batting position before your eyes lock onto the man behind the glass.

“Woah woah, baby. It’s just me.” Han defends, holding his arms in the air as if he had just been wrongly convicted. “Why do you have the bat.”

“Damnit Hannie! How many times have I told you to stop doing that!” You huff out, dropping the baseball bat out your hands as he chuckles and climbs in.

“Hey, honey~.” He teases in a sing song voice, wrapping his arms around your torso after closing the window. You can feel the warmth of his body, but you’re still upset.

“I’m going to seriously hit you if you keep doing that.” You pout, turning your head from him in fake anger; it’s hard to be mad at him for long.

“Don’t worry, cutie. It won’t hurt anyways.” He winks, causing an even deeper pout to form on your lips.

“Hmm, you still upset? Lemme kiss that pout off your lips then.” He grins, then he’s kissing you.

It’s sweet and slow, saying words lips can’t. His hands move from around your torso to your waist, giving the flesh a tight squeeze. You love kisses like these with him so much that you can almost forget what you had seen on tv earlier in the day.

Keyword : almost

A highly wanted criminal had escaped the prison early in the morning, and Han— well, SpiderMan was tasked with stopping him, which he didn’t.

They had ran into eachother near the Brooklyn Museum, and things escalated from there. Spiderman was injured slightly, and while you know that he heals fast, knowing exactly who was under that costume made your heart ache every time he got so much as a scratch on his body.

You pull away slowly, and Han furrows his brows. “Baby, are you still hurt?”

He bites his lip, the look in his eyes turning almost somber. He doesn’t like when you worry about him, not because he doesn’t like the attention, but because it makes him feel guilty.

Sometimes he wishes he could take all the worry you have about him and bury it far away, but he knows that for as long as he wears that suit, you’ll be worried about him.

“I’m fine, y/n. Don’t worry about me, okay?” He consoles, giving you one last peck on the lips. “Why don’t you get some sleep while I finish some paperwork work, hmm, bubs? It’s late.”

You frown at this, studying the look on his face intensely before you move away and sigh.

“Okay. You’ll be in bed soon though right?” You look up at him, and he can’t help but put his smile back on his face.

“In no more than an hour, hun.” He assures, moving towards the bathroom to take a quick shower before starting. “I won’t be long”

You make your way to the one bedroom in your shared apartment, mind still caught up in the events of the day.

You knew that the one who had escaped was very dangerous and had hurt hundreds of people before he was finally locked up for good. The fact that he was now free formed an aura of uneasiness around you and the entirety of New York City, and it was evident.

The streets were quieter; a horrible sign in the city that never seems to sleep. You could feel it in the air that everyone was on high alert, including your boyfriend.

The paper work he was doing? All of it was connected to him. He was a serious threat, and it was scaring you. The last thing you wanted was for Han to get seriously injured.

It’s happened once before when you guys had already been dating for a while, right around the time he told you that he was Spiderman.

He got beat up pretty brutally, and it had struck a fear in you that you hadn’t even known existed.

The fear of losing him.

That night when he returned, you held on to him and cried for hours. He desperately tried to comfort you, running his hands across your back and telling you he was fine.

Even if he was though, you’d still worry about him.

How could you not.

◂—♥︎—▸

It’s 5pm now, and you had just got off of work.

As you walk through the city, the feelings of brisk, autumn air soothing you, you realize it’s been too quiet. Even quieter than it had been yesterday.

You hadn’t been on your phone since it’s muted during your work hours, and you like to keep it that way until you get to your apartment, but you’re starting to think you should check it.

Nevertheless, you keep your regular pattern, walking until you reach the familiar building and door, walking in.

The anxiety is still eating at you, so you’re not surprised when you find your self turning on your TV and going to your local news station.

What does surprise you though, is when you see a live video of Spiderman laying on the harsh concrete clutching his side.

The air leaves your lungs, being filled with something else. Something thin, something dreadful.

It’s fear.

Your fearful eyes are glued to the screen. You want to look away, but it’s as if there’s an invisible force forcing you to stare at the TV.

It’s your worst fear broadcasted on live television, and there’s nothing you can do about it. All you can do is let the tears roll pitifully down your cheeks as the reports ramble on and on about his health, but you don’t want to listen. All you can do is pray.

Pray that those days where he held you weren’t going to come to an end. Pray that the times where he would swoop you up and take you to the roof of various buildings wouldn’t come to a close. Pray that even while it pissed you off, he would still be crawling through that window in your bedroom at the dead of night. That’s all you needed.

Him.

◂—♥︎—▸

You don’t know how long you had been there, but you don’t flinch when you hear the apartment door crack open.

You do move when you see who walks through the door.

There, a very beat up Jisung makes his way through the door, bruises and scars littering his arms. Cuts are all over his pretty face, causing a red tint all over. That’s all you can see through his tank top and long pants, but you know it must be worse.

You don’t know how you process all that, because once you register that it’s him, your running towards him faster than you’ve ever ran.

“J-Ji.?” You manage to stutter out, touching his skin delicately as if he could shatter, and honestly, you were scared he would. “Ji! O-oh my god! I t-thought you d-died!”

He grabs onto your hips, pulling you into his chest and rubing your back to console you. It usually works, but today, it’s only making the tears flow harder.

“What? Sweetheart, I’m fi-“ but you weren’t hearing it.

“Fine..? FINE!? You were not fine! I watched you lay there on the ground almost dead and you want to tell me you were fine?! I don’t know how much longer I can sit there and watch you ALMOST DIE, just for you to come home and say you’re fine, Han! I can’t take it.”

Your rambling angrily, stopping when you read the look in hans eyes.

fear & despair

“W-what do you mean by how much longer. Please don’t m-mean what I think you mean.” You can see the tears forming in his eyes as he pieces together your words and your shacked with guilt, taking a deep breath before speaking again.

“No. I don’t mean that at all. I-I’m just emotional. Just g-give me a minute to think, and then we can talk.” You whisper that last sentence, turning around and walking out of the shared living room, leaving behind a very shattered Jisung standing there, hand out as if to reach for you, but missing.

Missing by a long, long, shot.

◂—♥︎—▸

It’s not too long until you find yourself walking out of the bedroom, finding Han laying on the couch, seemingly staring into nothing, and this only makes you feel more guilty.

“Hey.” You start, seeing as Hans head swiftly turns towards your direction, eyebags heavy.

Have these tears always been blocking your vision?

“Listen. I am so, so, so sorry for how I acted. It was so wrong of me to yell and scream at you when you were still injured, especially to the point you would think I would even ever consider breaking up with you. I don’t want you to think being Spiderman is a burden for me, I was just emotionally overwhelmed and I am sorry.” You start, watching as his eyes slowly start to twinkle with tears.

Have these tears always been rolling down your cheeks?

“I just…can’t stand watching you get hurt. The thought of you.. n-not coming home kills me. You mean the most to me that anything or anyone ever has in all of my lifetimes, and the thought of losing you? It fucking scares me. But I shouldn’t have yelled at you or pushed you away. I’m sorry, Ji.”

He’s sat up by now, grabbing your hands in his. His eyes are sunken, and he still has various scars on his face, but the bruises have faded by now. You wish you could kiss all his pain away, but it’s hard to when it’s the emotional kind now and you feel as if it’s your fault.

“It’s okay, I understand. But listen to me, that’s never going to happen. I’m never ever going to leave you here by yourself. You will always have me. Until we grow old and much farther, I will never leave you.”

His words fill you with the sort of comfort you hadn’t felt for a long time, settling the aching in your heart that you carried for longer than you care to remember.

You knew there was going to be countless times where he was going to get endangered in the future, and you were never going to stop worrying about him. But for now, you felt at peace with him, your Spiderman.

Your hero.

back to masterlist

A/N : oh my goodness… proofreading this day of post is hard. I write a story and think it’s hits, then I go back and read it and it’s horrible…

[lukehughes43]

dial drunk

trevor zegras x reader based and inspired by the song "dial drunk" by noah kahan.

warnings: drinking, angst, lots of angst, swearing, a few mentions of sex word count: 17,332 i'm sorry😭

“hey y/n/n, it’s uh, it’s trevor.” 

his words were slurred together into one big drunken mess which trevor always turned into when he was home in bedford at the same time as you. despite everything telling you to delete the message right then and there, you kept listening, feeling as if there was something you needed to hear from his drunken ramblings.

“fuck i don’t even know why i’m calling you,” his laugh had a melancholy feeling to it, “i just remembered i promised to forget you, doya remember that, y/n/n?” 

of course, you remembered. you were the one who made him promise to forget all about you after your less-than-clean break-up nearly three years ago now. thinking that it would be best for both of you and selfishly more so better for yourself. 

“but i broke that promise, just like i broke so many other promises, right y/n/n?” there was a painful silence as it seemed as if he was waiting for you to answer him. only it was a voicemail, and you were never going to answer him. “wrong.” it was a hissed out slur. one that caused your heart that was finally taped together to slowly unravel. “i never broke any promises to you, y/n, well except this one.” 

trevor let out a sigh, “i uh, i’m only making this fucking call because i have to tell you something. because i called you two nights ago. you hung up on me. you didn’t call me back.” he was hiccuping between words, whether it was because he was drunk or on the verge of having a breakdown was unclear to you. “i don’t like it, that they called you. that even after all this time i’m still so fucking in love with you i gave them your name y/n. your name. in a city full of my family and friends, but i said your name.” that’s when the tears fell. 

for both of you.

you listened to him fall apart from the safety of your childhood bedroom that still had pictures of trevor and you lingering around it. hands tugging at the loose thread of your duvet as his sobs rang throughout your ears like your dial tone did when he tried calling you last night - surprised that he managed to hear your honey-sweet voice on your voicemail outgoing. 

“i just wanted you to know that - that i don’t like that i gave them your name as my emergency phone call as they threw me in the cop car.” there was a long sigh before a forced laugh fell from his lips, “and one more thing, the cops? yeah, all of them thought you were wrong for hanging up on me.”

there was another beat of silence and you knew it was because he was contemplating what to say next. if he even wanted to say something, or just hang up on you, your voicemail, like you had him two nights ago when he was hurt and needed you. 

he let out another shaky breath before he contiuned speaking, sending you into a crippling mess. “i dial your number drunk, y/n. honestly, at this point i’ll probably die a drunk, but that doesn’t change the fact that i would still die for you.”

and just like that, the message was over. trevor’s normally smooth voice was gone, the only thing to be heard was the sound of the rain falling against the glass of your window and your heart shattering in the pit of your stomach once more. 

----

being back in bedford was normally exactly what trevor needed to rest from the demanding schedule of the nhl. normally being the keyword in that sentence. bedford had lost its calming effect on trevor the moment you had broken up almost three years ago. now he only had a sense of calm in his hometown when you were stuck away in boston because of school. what happened when you were in bedford at the same time? trevor turned into a drunken mess, days blurring together and not in a good way, praying that the alcohol would help suppress his feelings if he were to run into you. hoping that it would help him forget you like he had promised that night you stood across from each other in the cold new york air. 

only it never did, despite how hard he tried. 

meaning the time trevor spent in bedford grew shorter and shorter each time he came to visit his family. reaching the point where he spent the entire summer split between the hughes lake house, and jack and quinn’s shared home in michigan last year just to get away from the pain you still caused him. 

pain caused based on the fact you refused to love him anymore, and he still wasn’t sure why. 

trevor and you had been together for four years before you decided to break up with him before he left for world juniors in the winter of 2020 (in which he went on to win mvp and a gold medal). you were crazy about each other and had been since you first met. your relationship had made it through two different long-distance periods, was going to make it through a third before you ended it, and everyone was convinced you were going to get married. that’s why you ending it blindsided him as much as did. sent him into such a spiral that he had no choice but to take out his emotions during the world juniors tournament and walk away the highest-scoring american since jeremy roenick. 

after winning gold and heading back to san diego he was fine. at least that’s what he told everyone - including himself. in reality, he was drowning every night in his tears and not drinking alcohol, yet. the drinking started that summer. 

he was out to eat with his family on the main stretch of roads that ran right through bedford. his world stopped as he watched you walk across the street, laughing along to something your best friend gracie had said. the wind was taken right from his chest as his green eyes stared at you, willing you to look over at him, to see him, to will him back to breathing. only you didn’t even turn your head in his direction, instead ducking inside the little coffee shop and sitting at a table full of friends he recognized from your grad party. 

that was the first time he had seen you since you broke his heart into a million different pieces, and it was the first time he felt the need to drink himself to sleep while in the same city as you. each time he’d seen you since then had gotten more complex and harder for him. causing him to keep reaching for whatever bottle he could get his hands on once he was safe from the curse of you. 

leading up all to this moment in time. june seventh, two thousand and twenty-three. 

his hand was shaking as he reached for his phone, throat dry despite the empty corona bottle that rested in the cup holder of his plastic chair. your contact was taunting him, your e/c eyes staring back at him from the picture he had never changed. your entire contact in his iphone remained as it did three years ago, “y/n/n<3” right in the middle of the screen, and the picture of you hoisted up on his back at the draft staring back at him right above it. 

there wasn’t a chance for him to even think about what he was doing, not that he could because he was far from sober after all, the dial tone was filling his ears. as trevor sat and waited for you to pick up the phone it felt as if the entire world was on the verge of falling apart around him. he thought it was about to end completely when the dial tone finally came to an end, only instead a recording of your voice filled his ears:

“hey, it’s y/n! sorry i missed your call, i’ll call you back as soon as i can. until then, smile at a stranger and make their day. bye!” 

the twenty-two-year-old had to choke back a sob at the sound of your voice for the second time in three years. he’d never made it this far before, to your voicemail, normally he hung up after the second ring of the dial tone. that was until two nights ago when he called you from the police station after the ride in the back of the cop car. now he was struggling with what he wanted to say to you in the first place, the drunk thoughts overpowering his sober thoughts that he was originally called to try and say. 

“hey y/n/n, it’s uh, it’s trevor,” he began. silently praying the slur in his words wasn’t as noticeable through the phone as if you were going to be sitting here next to him. “fuck, i don’t even know why i’m calling you.” a heartbreaking laugh fell passed his lips, hand running through his rain-soaked hair. “i just remembered i promised to forget you, doya remember that, y/n/n?” 

while he thought he could get away with slurring in his opening sentence he knew you’d hear the slurring of his words in that line, practically able to smell the alcohol through the phone that he reeked. light beer and fresh rainwater were the new scents trevor zegras was sporting, his favorite when he was stuck in his thoughts about you. thoughts like why you even asked him to promise you something like that, how was he supposed to forget you? he’d been in love with you for four years before you broke things off, you can’t just force yourself out of love. 

shaking his head he pulled himself out of his drunken thoughts to get back to the task at hand, “but i broke that promise, just like i broke so many other promises, right y/n/n?” licking his lips trevor stayed silent, wanting for a response. for your voice to cut through the patter of raindrops on the hardwood beneath his bare feet. wait for you to exclaim ‘you never broke your promise, trevor john’ only there was no answer. there would never be an answer so he hissed out, “wrong. i never broke any promises to you, y/n, well expect this one.” sighing he fell back into his chair, reaching down into the cooler next to his chair, and pulled out another beer. “i uh, i’m only making this fucking call because i have to tell you something.” he popped the cap of the corona off before speaking again. “because i called you, two nights ago.” drink. “you hung up on me.” drink. “you didn’t call me back.” drink. “i don’t like it, that they called you. that even after all this time i’m still so fucking in love with you i gave them your name, y/n. your name. in a city full of my family and friends, but i said your name.” tears began to carve a path down his tanned cheeks, mixing with the rain drops as they both fell in a perfect rhythm together. 

his sobs subsided just enough to get out the right of his message. “i just wanted you to know that - that i don’t like that i gave them your name as my emergency phone call as they threw me in the cop car.” a mix between a deep sigh and a laugh-filled the dark backyard before he left his final blow: “and one more thing, the cops? yeah, all of them thought you were wrong for hanging up on me.” 

trevor fought with himself, trying to decide if he was worth telling you. worth allowing himself to turn into the charming young man you once knew, and for a split second, what remained of his former self had shown through and he let out the confession he was terrified to hear, and more terrified of what you would do once you’d listen to his voicemail. if you even did listen to his voicemail. 

“i dial your number drunk, y/n.” tears fell down his cheeks as he allowed the self pity to wash over him. as he finally accepted the fact he was the villain in what was a once a famed love story. “honestly, at this point i’ll probably die a drunk, but that doesn’t change the fact that i would still die for you.” 

he hit the red circle so quickly that he almost cut off his final word, but he didn’t care. because now he was stuck thinking about how his downward spiral caused by you breaking up with him three years ago had hit its rock bottom two nights ago. all because he started throwing drunk punches to defend the honor of somebody he didn’t even know anymore. 

----

june fifth, two thousand and twenty-three. while to many others it was just a normal monday night at the start of summer, to you and trevor, june fifth was the biggest turning point in your no longer-existent relationship - yet neither of you knew it. 

while you were in your room getting ready for a date - only the second one you’d gone on since breaking up with trevor - your former lover was busy writing down a list of food needed from the grocery store. as you finished applying your lipstick (trevor’s favorite shade on you no less) he was across town throwing reusable bags into the back of his bronco. 

there were butterflies in your stomach as you walked downstairs to sit and wait in your living room. since trevor, this was the first time you had genuinely felt nervous over a guy. granted it was only the second date you had gone on in close to three years you still had hooked up with a couple at parties but none of them made you feel anything and left you thinking about trevor as you waited to make your escape once they’d fallen asleep. 

trevor on the other hand couldn’t keep a girl even if he wanted to. how could he when every girl he spent time with he compared directly to you - the love of his life? occasionally he’d find himself stumbling around a random girl from the bar’s apartment, but it never lasted. no matter how good the sex was, or wasn’t, he was never completely satisfied. his mind stuck thousands of miles away with you. 

your date, charlie, was over ten minutes late the next time you glanced at your phone and the butterflies in your stomach had slowly started to die. sighing you slouched back against your coach while trying to ignore the watchful eyes of your parents. both who were still pro-trevor, and made it known to you how much damage you had caused the ‘sweet boy’ whenever they had a chance. not that you could blame them though, you knew how much you hurt him. you just knew staying with him would hurt you even worse.

the star ducks player was right on schedule as he began his trek across bedford to the grocery store. waving as he drove past charlie henderson, an old friend from elementary school, having no idea that he was on his way to pick you up for a date. the blond waved back almost instantly, smiling two times as wide for two different reasons. the first being he was on his way to your house and not trevor, something he would have never dreamed of in a million years. the second was because it was trevor fucking zegras waving at him, and to be honest, he was surprised trevor even remembered he existed. 

by the time charlie pulled into your half-circle driveway, he was a total of twenty minutes late. not to mention that when he arrived he didn’t run up to the door and eagerly knock with a bright smile on his face. instead, he chose a more twenty-first-century approach with a ‘here’ text message on snapchat. what remained of the butterflies you once had in your stomach had officially died with that. sighing you pushed yourself off the couch and walked towards the entryway, “um charlie’s here so i’m gonna go. i’ll see you guys tomorrow?” 

a disappointed look painted your mother’s face, while your father began to shake his head. muttering something into your mother’s ear so you didn’t overhear him. however, as you walked out the door you did hear the comment your mother threw out, “trevor never showed up late. he always came to the door.” her words were sharp and cut deep into your heart. suddenly something that seemed to be going so well was going so terribly wrong. 

it was pure luck, rather an unfortunate circumstance, that as trevor was walking out of the grocery store as you and charlie were stuck at the red right in front of the store’s parking lot. even hundreds of yards away trevor could make out your h/c curled as your head rested against the window. in an instant, trevor’s semi-decent mood had shifted to one of pure heart-shattering agony. had he been thinking straight he would’ve remembered you only leaned your head against the car window when you wanted to go, only he was currently thinking of the closest bar as the ten minutes drive back home seemed too far of a wait for him. 

you saw him as soon as charlie rolled the car to a stop. he hadn’t seen you yet, head tucked down looking at the blacktop and his rainbow flip-flops. until by some stroke of luck, perhaps unfortunate circumstances, he looked up and saw you. his green eyes tripled in size as he stared at you and you knew it was because you were in the car with a guy who wasn’t him. your knees were already pointed towards the car door, only now they were touching the plastic interior. this had to have been a sign - seeing trevor. you wanted to curl up into yourself as you waited for what seemed like forever at this light. praying that trevor couldn’t see the way you were staring right back at him, longing to be stuck at this red light with him instead of charlie, yet you wouldn’t admit that to anybody but yourself. 

as the light turned green three things happened to three different people. 

trevor dropped his reusable bags full of groceries and ran to his car. desperate to drown his pain with the company of the strangers who filled his hometown.

y/n watched with a subtle pang in her chest, feeling as if she broke his heart all over again. tears pricked her waterline as she drove away from the scene with a man she no longer wanted to be with. 

and charlie continued to ramble aimlessly on about how he is the president of a frat at u-maine. completely obviously to the hurt, the two former lovers were going through. instead when he caught the sight of the bright yellowish-orange bronco he cut his ramblings off to say, “hey! i saw trevor on my way to pick you up. ya know, he even waved to me. i had no idea he still knew who i was. i mean he’s a bigshot nhl player now. probably pulling instagram models - girls that are way out of his league. then again he probably learned how to do that from you, right y/n/n?” 

a shaky breath left your mouth as you turned away from the window for the first time since you got in the car. “excuse me?” you huffed, arms crossing over your chest as your eyes narrowed at him. “are you implying trevor’s out of my league, charlie?” 

with a fight breaking out on a first date in the silver honda accord, an internal war was raging in the confines of the yellow bronco. with heaving breaths trevor began to pull at his hair. “she’s on a date. y/n’s on a date with charlie henderson? there’s- there’s.” his words were cut off as he began to slam his hands down against the steering wheel. trying to prevent the tears that were collecting on his lashes from falling. “fuck!” he screamed, voice rattling the glass of his windows as he did so. 

“what?! no! no-” sighing charlie shrugged his shoulders while barely glancing over at you. “i mean yeah, everyone thought so, y/n. it was only a matter of time until he broke up with you, so when news traveled back that you broke up with him. nobody believed it. i mean come on y/n/n, trevor was always going to end up in the nhl, and you’re what, going to be a kid’s doctor? yeah i dunno, like i said it was only a matter of time.” 

trevor clenched his fist before he reached forward with shaking hands to his steering wheel. starting the car and backing out as fast as he could. making sure he went in the complete opposite direction of the silver honda that you sat in, not able to bear it if he saw the two of you at the bar while he tried to drink his pain away. 

the tears fell faster than you could stop them as you stared over at him in awe. he had managed to hit every single one of your insecurities from dating trevor right on the head, and threw them back in your face like you were nothing. with trevor splitting time between the gulls in san diego and the ducks in anaheim a war had begun to grow between your head and your heart. thinking about how he could spend all of his free time with a new instagram model every night, but you knew he wouldn’t do that. not when the both of you had talked about marriage and starting a family for hours on end. only as time went on, and the bigger trevor started to get, you felt as if you were slowly falling into the shadows of his life. then there was the fact you felt as if your career wasn’t enough for him, or for your future. self-doubt was a powerful demon, working its magic to make you believe as soon as trevor was a full-time nhl player he would force you to abandon your studies for your future career and turn into a full-time nhl girlfriend who sat there and looked pretty. so by thanksgiving you had made up your mind to end things with the then nineteen-year-old. forcing yourself to slowly fall out of love with him. something you were still forcing yourself to do even after all this time. 

as soon as trevor pulled into the little dive bar a couple miles outside of town he was reaching for his phone. he scrolled through his messages for the one person who wouldn’t ask him any questions as to why he disappeared and never returned with the groceries. double clicking on the picture of his brother and him from a wrestling meet - three years ago in december - he typed out a frantic message before turning his phone off and walking into the bar:

something came up.  couldn’t get the groceries home. they’re laying in the middle of the parking lotor i’ll venmo you $200 and you can buy more

griffin zegras, while being the younger brother he loved just as hard as his older brother, and was even wiser than the eldest zegras sibling. so when he got the message from his older brother he knew right away that you came up. while he didn’t know what had exactly happened, he had a suspicion that it was something pretty drastic for trevor to drop the groceries in the middle of a parking lot and rush away to an undisclosed location. sighing he liked the message before walking towards the door, “come on av, we gotta go get the groceries.” 

an angered laugh fell past your lips as you glared over at the boy. “it was only a matter of time?” shaking your head you looked down at your phone to see that it had only taken fifteen minutes for the date to get completely blown to shit. “you know charles, i’m starting to remember why i never was interested in you during high school,” you started to explain, wiping the tears from your eyes. “because you’re a selfish asshole who gets off on the downfalls of other people, so i think it’s time you take me home.” 

“i need the strongest drink you have,” was the first thing out of trevor’s mouth as he threw himself down on the bar stool. the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head in an attempt to blend in with the crowd so nobody realized it was him ‘trevor zegras center for the anaheim ducks’ when all he wanted to be was ‘drunk guy at the bar number two.’ 

charlie stared over at you with a look of complete disbelief, nobody had ever called him out on his bullshit before tonight. why would they when he could just buy his friend's company with all the money his parents make? his shocked expression remained etched across his face as he pulled into a dunkin parking lot to turn around. even more shocked that he was following through with your wishes of going home when he had waited years for the opportunity to go out with you. yet here he was, giving in to you without any protest, because deep down he knew you were right. he just wasn’t willing to openly admit it. 

within the first five minutes of sitting at the bar counter, trevor had managed to completely down the moscow mule which was placed in front of him, as well as three shots of vodka. with his vision toeing the line of fuzzy and seeing straight he backed off the hard alcohol and ordered a bud light. with his buzz well in place, he knew he’d be okay to sip on a beer as you were a distant thought in his alcohol-clouded head. 

“oh hi honey, you’re back early.” the sound of your mother's voice was next to one of the last things you wanted to hear as you slowly shut the front door behind you. originally hoping that you could sneak back in without facing the questions as to why you were home. yet your parents' movie night completely ruined that plan. taking a deep breath you walked into the open space, and the scene of seeing your parents happily cuddled up together, how to lose a guy in 10 days on tv, caused you to turn into a sobbing mess. because all you could think of at that moment was how you wanted your future to look exactly like this with one certain person: trevor. 

charlie watched as you walked in your front door, and as soon as it was closed he was speeding out of the half-circle driveway towards his sanctuary: the bar. more specifically the bar that trevor was currently holed up in, but neither of them knew this. instead, both of them were both stuck in their thoughts on how to drink enough to get you off their minds. 

when you had left for your date with charlie, someone whom both of your parents didn’t think was right for you, they agreed to not say another word on the matter to you. meaning they weren’t going to bring up trevor unless you did. all they wanted was for you to be happy, and if this so-called charles henderson fellow, umaine frat president, could make you happy, then that was all they cared about. so they went along with their nightly plans of watching a rom-com, drinking a bottle of wine, and falling asleep on the couch just like they did in their first year of marriage. just as andie was about to ask ben for another diet coke at the knicks game, you opened the front door. reaching forward, your mother set down her wine glass and paused the movie before turning to look back at you, “oh hi honey, you’re back early.” your father squeezed her hand that he was holding as they both watched the tears begin to fall down your cheeks, simultaneously breaking their hearts. “sweetie what happened? you haven’t cried over a boy since tr-” immediately she caught herself by clearing her throat and restarted. “oh honey, come here.” 

time had seemingly stopped for trevor. was this his first beer or his third? he couldn’t remember anymore. while he had started as casually sipping, he soon began to finish them faster than intended as he realized he had nothing to keep him occupied other than the bottle in his hands. with his phone turned off and stashed away in his pocket, not wanting his family or the boys to have his location pinging at a bar, he was completely alone. normally when he did this at home he had the company of a friend over a facetime call. every night it bounced around from person to person. when he wanted someone to help him reflect on the past with you it was spencer, as he was the resident third wheel of your relationship, having grown across the state line separating new york and connecticut with you. on the nights he didn’t want to talk or think about you at all, like tonight, he would call jamie since he never had the chance to meet you. jamie also missed out on the man trevor was before the breakup. while he was still charming, he would change from charming to alarming in seconds, jamie always had to walk on thin glass. nights where he just wanted comfort it was griffin, as there was nothing better than brotherly love, and someone able to hold you while you fall apart. except for tonight, trevor had nobody. he was completely and utterly alone with nobody he knew: until the front door opened and in walked charlie henderson.

sniffling, you wiped away the tears that clung to your jawline before offering your parents a small smile, “can i crash date night after i change?” instantly your mother was nodding her head, your father smiling over at you softly. this gives you the chance to run up to your room and change into the only piece of clothing that could give you comfort when you heart this bad, trevor’s boston university hockey sweatshirt. the last team issued one he got before the covid pandemic shut down his college career and he signed with the ducks. when you wore the gray sweatshirt it felt like he was right there with you. holding you close and promising you everything was going to work out for the better. his scent had long faded, but the idea of it being his was what grounded you. so much so that you were reaching for your phone and his contact. 

trevor’s once relaxed body had now become rigid at the sound of charlie’s smooth voice. he was too afraid to dare to look over and risk seeing you hanging off his arm, so instead he ordered another beer and turned so his back was completely towards his former classmate. he hadn’t understood why you agreed to go out on a date with charlie henderson. in high school, he was nothing but sleazy. flaunting his parents' money around to gain the attention of girls, and the friendship of the boys in your grade. sure he was good-looking, but trevor was certain there wasn’t a single brain cell behind those dull, lifeless eyes. when he went away to avon trevor would hear all about the charlie stories through you. how you would roll your eyes every time he tried to make a move on you, always pointing out that you and trevor were still very much together. so it bewildered him that you were currently on a date with charlie ‘frat president’ henderson. then again, people change and maybe charlie had. trevor knew that he had changed for the worse, maybe charlie had changed for the better. and who was he to judge you for your choices? he didn’t even know you anymore. 

tears stung your eyes as you stared down at the contact that no longer had a name, but you would know the phone number despite the missing name, even if there was still a random selfie trevor had taken as the contact photo. why you had kept the photo but erased his name made no sense to you back then, and even less now, but that’s not what you were worried about. instead, you were worried about how your hands were shaking as your finger ghosted over the call button. your heart was beating so hard against your rib cage it was starting to hurt. you couldn’t call him, not after all this time. not after ripping his heart out and throwing it on the ground to stomp on it, all while you were still madly in love with him. you couldn’t. yet, you did. 

if trevor’s phone had been on he would’ve felt it buzz in his pocket. he would’ve set his bud light down and pulled out his phone instead. the four-year-old picture would’ve flashed across his screen, your name lighting it up at the top. tears would’ve formed in his eyes as he stared down at the eighteen-year-old versions of yourselves before swiping the answer call across his screen. he would feel charlie henderson’s eyes on him as he let out a breath with one thing leaving his lips, “y/n/n.” 

only trevor’s phone didn’t buzz, and your call would be missed as he took another sip of his beer. he was trying his hardest to tone out charlie’s voice which seemed to get louder and louder by the second as if he was trying to get under trevor’s skin. like he knew it was him sitting four stools down from him, and he knew just how to hit the twenty-two-year-old right where it hurt and choose to punch a man while he was down. he had started to bring up you. 

the moment charlie walked into the bar he had known it was trevor perched up at the counter. at first, he told himself if he was just going to leave it alone, pretend he didn’t see him like every other person in the bar, and go on with his night. drinking little fruity cocktails while he joked around with his friends to get his mind off you and the date that was a disaster. he was fine doing that until one of his dorky tag-a-long friends didn’t get the memo that they weren’t supposed to bring up the fact he wasn’t supposed to be here and said, “aren’t you supposed to be out with y/n l/n right now?” while he could’ve chosen the easy road of telling the truth, one that would shatter his ego and imagine amongst his friends, he began to see red and chose the complete opposite. he chose violence.

“hey, it’s z! sorry i can’t get to the phone right now, i’ll give ya a call when i can!” the voicemail recording caused the sinking feeling in your heart to grow even larger. sniffling you hit the big red end button as the woman's voice explained the steps of leaving a voicemail. you knew you shouldn’t have called, and that trevor not answering wasn’t a surprise to you. running a hand through your curls you slipped the phone into the pocket of his sweatshirt, pulled on a pair of shorts, and walked downstairs to meet your parents. “i’ll make more popcorn if you guys pour me a glass?” 

“yeah i was, but she was just so boring,” charlie drawled, trying to think of more lies he could say to cover for himself. “y/n l/n isn't interesting in the slightest. i really don’t get what people see in her.” as his friends kept laughing the smile on his face grew more and more. fuelling the fire that now burned inside of him. nobody called charles j. henderson out on his bullshit and got away with it. 

at first, trevor thought he was hallucinating hearing your name come out of charlie’s mouth. because there was no way charlie henderson called you, y/n m/n l/n, boring and uninteresting. so much to the point that he had to end the date twenty minutes after it started. “yeah, you don’t even understand. she was like, fake sobbing because i told her i couldn’t do it. like i’m sorry, i don’t want to spend my night with a girl who’s clearly a four.” finishing his drink he threw three twenty dollar bills down before turning in his seat to look down the bar at charlie. his blood was already boiling, yet he was still waiting for the prime opportunity to pounce on the scumbag. 

with a fresh bowl of popcorn resting on the coffee table, and three full glasses of wine surrounding it, you were finally ready to settle down on the couch with your parents to watch the movie. “we restarted it for you, honey. we know how much you like this movie,” your dad said while smiling over at you. taking note of the way you clung to the sweatshirt that was on your frame. he pressed play and you let out a blissful sigh, staring at the opening credits and thinking about how for the next hour and a half, you’d be starting at a young matthew mcconaughey who you thought looked uncannily like trevor in this movie. trying to completely forget about the fact he had sent you to voicemail. 

“i don’t think y/n’s a four,” one of charlie’s cronies replied sheepishly, pushing the salt around the rim of his margarita. “she’s like, one of the hottest girls i’ve ever seen! and i mean, she pulled trevor zegras.” charlie cringed at the thought of you and trevor happily together. all he wanted was a chance with you, and the one time he got that chance it was ruined by some stupid nhl player who didn’t even graduate college. meanwhile, he had graduated and on top of that, he did it while organizing frat party after frat party. what did trevor do? nothing! he left you up for grabs three different times because of hockey. in his opinion it was time you dumped him, even if he was out of your league, so you could settle down with somebody more like him. seeing how displeased charlie had grown with his comments in defense of you, matt the cronie, frowned before changing his tune about you. “yeah you’re right, char, she is a four. a total four! i mean, what did zegras even see in her, to begin with? probably only stuck with her because she was too ugly to cheat on him, and wouldn’t feel bad cheating on her when he left for hockey.” 

if the words charlie’s friends were spewing about you weren’t enough to get his blood boiling, then the way charlie’s lips curled up into an evil smile was. he rushed off of his stool and stomped his way over to the group, a scowl on his face as he watched all of them but charlie stare at him in awe. he was still a famous nhl player after all. “don’t you fucking idiots dare let y/n’s name leave your mouth again, or i swear to god i’ll kill you. all of you. she’s too pure-hearted and too good of a person for you to be dragging her name in the dirt. she’s the type of beautiful where you’re lucky to be in her presence. inside and out.” his nostrils flared as he heaved out every word laced with anger. “and you,” he seethed turning his full attention to charlie, “consider yourself fucking lucky someone as incredible as y/n agreed to go on a date with a self-absorbed egotistical asshole like yourself. you’re calling her uninteresting? the only thing you have to show for yourself is the fact you were a frat president at umaine, nobody gives a shit dude!” 

even with your attention on the movie you could feel the way your mother kept glancing over at you. you were an open book to her. you knew it was only a matter of time until she said you could talk to her, or asked about trevor’s sweatshirt. and as if almost on cue she leaned over to whisper into your ear. “do you want to talk about it, sweetie? it has to have been pretty bad if you’re wearing trevor’s sweatshirt. you only do that when you’re really upset.” shrugging your shoulders you reached forward and grabbed your glass of wine. praying that taking a sip would end her pestering. she ran a hand through your hair and pressed a kiss against your forehead, “whenever you’re ready, i’m ready.” only you didn’t think you’d be ready to talk about the events of this night for a long time. not until you at least figured it out for yourself, and you weren’t sure if you’d ever figure it out for yourself. 

the cronies were stifling back their laughter as they listened to trevor tear into their group's leader. only the laughter came to a halt as chalire jumped out of his barstool to stand chest to chest with the six-foot-even nhl forward. “think you’re a big man now that you’re in the nhl z?” charlie asked with a taunting tone, head tilted to the side as he just barely stared down at the hockey player. “well you’re not, dumbass. i mean look at you, you’re getting blackout drunk in a bar over your ex-girlfriend who broke up with you three years ago. you’re pathetic. just like y/n’s little dream of being a doctor.” matt and nate let out a chorus of ‘ooh’s’ like the group was still in high school, right away beginning to make small comments to each other. “maybe you guys did deserve each other, could’ve been pathetic together.” 

that’s when the first punch was thrown. 

“i tried calling him,” you whispered out only for your mother to hear. because you knew if your father heard it would be over. his hopes would get too high, and he would fly too close to the sun thinking he was about to get his best friend back. even your mother perked up hearing that you had called him. “but he didn’t answer,” you added, e/c eyes completely focused on the screen in front of you. “it’s probably for the best that he didn’t answer. i can’t blame him.” you were sniffling before burying your head in your mother’s chest. fighting back the tears as you snuggled closer to her. wondering why you had let your anxiety and the possibility of trevor and your relationship turning toxic steer you away from the only person you’d ever love.

your father listened from the other side of your mother, a frown overtaking his features while he sunk into the couch. he couldn’t help but feel as if all of this heartbreak had been his fault. he was the reason you and trevor had met in the first place. (the reason you had met spencer too but that’s beside the point right now). on the side of his day job as a pediatrician, he coached a local youth hockey team. while you played on the girl's team, your dad thought it would be best to avoid the whole politics of ‘parent coaches’ and stuck to the boys and that’s how he met trevor and spencer. you met at an outdoor jamboree at the ripe age of five, and since then you had been inseparable. it was only a matter of time until you and trevor ended up together, and nobody was happier about that than your father. trevor was the son he never knew he wanted. he just fit in with your family, with your lives. so when you came back inside that december night crying, saying you had broken up, poor d/n l/n felt like it was all his fault two of his favorite people in the world were crushed as badly and as deeply as they were. he still couldn’t forgive himself. 

trevor had swung at charlie first. his right fist splitting his lip in half. the blood coated his knuckles and the tiled floor. as he watched charlie stumble backward he turned his attention to matt first. “you know matt, i was going to spare you, but then you had to go and change your tune just for a couple of hundred bucks,” he slurred with a smirk on his face, “so i gotta do what i gotta do, i hope you can respect that man.” he didn’t give the boy chance to answer before he threw another heavy right hook. this time breaking the matt’s nose. the crunch of the cartilage breaking could be heard throughout the whole bar, and that’s what gained the attention of every bar-goer. trevor had sealed his fate as soon as the first punch was thrown.

the onlookers in the bar couldn’t believe what was happening in front of them. it wasn’t every day that a true bar fight broke out, and it certainly wasn’t every day that it was an nhl player took part in it. barry, the regular bartender, figured it would sort itself out. a couple of punches would be thrown and then the group would separate and there would be nothing to worry about. it would be a done deal. only that wasn’t what happened in this case. charlie henderson, after picking himself up off the counter, lunged forward and socked trevor right in the temple. laying it on thick enough to give the star player a black eye for a couple of days, maybe even a week. when trevor lunged forward and tackled the entitled prick to the grimy floor is when poor barry had to make the phone call to the police, seeing as matt and nate were doing absolutely nothing to help their friend, and trevor wasn’t stopping anytime soon. 

“sweetheart,” your mother cooed while running a hand up and down your back. “just give trevor a little time. you haven’t talked in nearly three years, he’s probably scared to hear from you considering the last time you saw each other…” as she trailed off you nodded along with what she was saying. she made a valid argument in trevor’s defense. if you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t answer you on the first phone call either. you asked him to completely forget you existed, so he had to have been fairly confused about why you were even trying to call him. you had never attempted to reach out to him before, but what he didn’t know is that you still kept tabs on him. asked spencer and your parents about him, sometimes even reaching out to jack if an opportunity presented itself to you. you still followed him on instagram to see what he was up to, but never liking any posts so he wouldn’t know. (he knew. he checked his following once a month to see if your name was still amongst the sea of random people he didn’t care about). you still cared about him and loved him, but he just didn’t know it, so you figured it was time to change that. if only he had answered the call. 

trevor’s knuckles burned with every punch he threw, pulling them as he knew he couldn’t beat this kid to a bloody pulp. although, if you looked at his split knuckles you would think that he had. the blood from charlie’s split lip and broken nose had coated his own on his cracked open knuckles. leaning over the man trevor tried to catch his breath before throwing one more threat his way. “don’t you ever fucking talk about y/n again. if i find out you did, i won’t be so gentle next time.” carefully he pulled himself off charlie before leaning back against a barstool, a bad decision on his part because the next thing he knew charlie was barking orders at matt and nate when he clearly should’ve sought medical attention for his broken nose.

within an instant the two cowards were pinning him down to the blood-filled floor as charlie leaned over with a nasty grin, blood dripping down to the tiles next to his dirty blond hair. 

“you’re going to wish you never threw that punch when i’m done with you, big z. cause you see, i have nothing to lose unlike you.” and with that charlie drilled him in the left side of his head, making sure that his black eye wasn’t going away for a long period of time. 

shrugging your shoulder’s you nodded, a defeated sigh leaving your lips. “yeah, i wouldn’t have answered me either,” you mumbled, curling yourself into the other end of the couch. beginning to nurse the glass of wine you were about to refill. eyes refocusing on the screen in front of you as ben and andie sat at a couple’s counselor. it was a cruel joke in your eyes now, that if you had thought of going to therapy by yourself or with trevor maybe none of this would’ve happened. maybe he’d be with you right now, cuddled up on the love seat throwing popcorn at each other while your parents looked on in awe of you. but you know what they say, dreams are for rookies. 

with each punch charlie landed on trevor’s face he felt his ego rise once more through his body. there was no doubt his left hook had broken trevor’s nose, blood having immediately started to gush from it. only that didn’t stop him. no, charlie was seeing red, while he may have been in the wrong he wasn’t going to let trevor off as easy he did him. no he wasn’t stopping until both eyes were black and blue, his nose was dislocated and resting against his left cheek, and his lips had cracks and split in them. he wanted trevor zegras to be unrecognizable when he was done with him, and he would’ve had his way if he hadn’t heard the sirens over the mood music in the bar. “oh fuck, that’s the cops!” charlie yelled, jumping off trevor. in the process, kneeing him right in the stomach. while it wasn’t intentional he couldn’t lie, he was happy it had happened. “nate, matt, we gotta get out of here. my dad still hasn’t paid my speeding tickets.” as they ran towards the front door it was pushed open by two middle-aged police officers. the ginger took in the scene in front of him, while the blond shook his head.

“nobody’s going anywhere. you’re all coming with us.” 

groaning out in agony trevor didn’t even try to pull himself off the floor. he was far too embarrassed by what had occurred to have the will to move. he was embarrassed about everything but defending your name. if you were still together and this had happened he knew you’d be giving him an ear full. telling him that your name isn’t as important as his reputation, and the status his name held. but ultimately you would cave, thanking him for defending you before the two of you fell asleep. now, he didn’t know what you would do when word got back to you. would you be mad at him? happy he stuck up for you? it would be a lie to say he didn’t care because he did. he had to know what you thought of the events that occurred. little did he know, but he would find out sooner rather than later what you thought of this little bar brawl.

“i’m going to grab the other bottle of red and make some nachos to go along with it. do either of my women need something while i’m up?” asked your father as he paused the movie, right as it was about to get good. classic dad move. your mother got up to accompany him, while you stayed rooted in your seat. finishing the glass in your hands. besides pausing movies at random times, your dad had always been a sweetheart. there was nothing more he wanted in life than to have a family, to have children. unfortunately for both your mother and father, you were the only child they were gifted with. it was a struggle to have you as your mother struggled with fertility issues, yet that didn’t damper either of their spirits, especially your fathers. during the day he thrived as a pediatrician that every parent wanted their child to go to. he had a gift when it came to children. and by night he was a resident youth hockey coach. but first and foremost he was a family man. there was nothing he wouldn’t do for either you or your mother. big or small, he was always the first person offering to help. he was the one who picked up your pieces after the breakup. he was your true confidant. he explained to you that at one point in their lives, your parents had broken up. your father was struggling to stay afloat in med school, and your mother was thriving at the bedford elementary school as a teacher. the distance, and the fact he felt he wasn’t enough for her, was enough for him to end their relationship. their break lasted almost a year until they reconnected in a hospital waiting room. it was because of your parents and your father practically doing the exact thing you did, that you even had the slightest hope you and trevor could rekindle your relationship. only, you were starting to realize, you should’ve called after year one, not year three.

“alright kid, time to get up,” the ginger officer drawled while leaning over to pick trevor up by his armpits. once he was up on his feet, the office turned trevor around and pressed him up against the bar counter, and pulled both of his hands behind his back. letting out a sigh trevor couldn’t help but shiver as the metal handcuffs were clasped around his wrists. he was soon pulled forward off the counter and was started towards the door, “you’re facing disorderly conduct. you have the right..” the officers' words trailed off in trevor’s head as he was brought back outside. the blond cop had charlie, matt, and nate huddled together on the hood of his car. he couldn’t quite make out what was being said, but it sounded as if charlie was trying to bribe the officer to not book them. the conversation was completely cut from trevor’s ear as his officer, officer collins, opened the back door, pushed his head down, and pushed him inside. as trevor stared up at him he could only think of one thing.

“wait!” he exclaimed as officer collins was about to shut the door, “my emergency phone call is y/n l/n.”

your mother came back into the room first giving you the perfect opportunity to ask. “mom, do you think there’s still a chance trevor and i end up together? i mean, like you and dad did?” she didn’t answer you, instead, she let out a sigh while leaning down and filling your glass of wine. you could tell that she was thinking of the right thing to say back to you, and that’s how you knew you most likely weren’t going to like the answer she had come up with. “you know mom, you actually don’t have to answer that. it’s silly of me to even think that we did have a chance to get back together. i blew it the moment i broke up with him in twenty-twenty.” while you were currently three glasses deep, starting your fourth, the buzz was beginning to hit you. since the breakup, red wine no longer made you horny as it once had while you were dating trevor, instead, it sent you in a downward spiral of your most inner ward thoughts. the downward spiral which was beginning to happen, yet you didn’t know how to make it stop before it got too bad. “i was so stupid to do that, break up with him. i thought we would end up in a toxic relationship. i thought we would end up hurting each other, so i chose to just hurt him instead. because while it hurt me to do, i got over it. i got over it faster than i should’ve, and every time i came home i wanted him again. i wanted us again, and this time i know i want him and only him forever.” taking a deep breath you looked up at your mother with tears forming in your eyes again, “so mom i do need to know, do you think there’s a chance me and trevor make it in the end?” 

officer collins shook his head while slamming the back door in trevor’s face. he stalled for a minute opening his notebook and grabbing his pen. quickly he scribbled down ‘y/n l/n’ before pocketing his notebook and pen and walking to the driver's door. he glanced in his side mirror to watch as officer shandy, the blond, shoved charlie henderson and the other two he didn’t know into the back of his car. he then switched his gaze to his rearview mirror to stare at trevor. he had his busted-up face pressed against his the glass window. he assumed that it was because the coolness of the glass felt good against his cut-up lips and bruised eyes. sighing he pulled his patrol car into gear and checked the mirror one more time before addressing trevor again. “don’t worry kid, we’ll get your face cleaned up then you can make your call.” 

“can i make the call first?” 

m/n l/n’s heart broke as she sat and listened to your ramblings. in a way she had felt guilty she was even hearing every word that you had begun to utter to her. of course she had thought about you and trevor getting back together multiple times. it was something she had thought of almost daily. but as time grew on she saw it becoming less and less likely of a happy outcome. she, of course, had known trevor would be more than willing to jump at an opportunity to get back together with you, it was you she was worried about. she figured as time grew on you would lose all your interest in the bedford native, so she was completely shocked to hear that you were still all in with trevor. “honey,” she sat back down next to you hands reaching forward and grabbing yours, “i think there’s a chance if you really want there to be.” she squeezed your hands before kissing the top of your head, “i wish i could discredit the words you had just said to me, but unfortunately i know that they hold nothing but the truth. but i do still believe that if you want to be with trevor then you'll find a way to end up with each other.”

“sure kid, you can make your call first if that’s what you really want.” officer collins answer had satisfied trevor to the point where he zoned out into his own little world for the remainder of the drive. by some stroke of fate, they were caught at the same red light charlie and you had been stuck at when trevor had seen you. he took it upon himself to look and see if someone had picked up his grocery bags, they had, griffin and ava having found them right away. his attention was then turned to the traffic lights that seemed to be speaking to him.

“will it be alright?” he asked, whether he spoke it out loud or if it was just in his head he got an answer regardless. as the light turned from red to green it spoke out with a defeated, “i don’t know.”

tears carved their way down your cheeks, leaving what you thought would be a permanent trail as you clung to the little bit of hope your mother’s words gave you. you cradled the wine glass close to your face, watching as your tears fell into the sea of red alcohol, trying to stop yourself from thinking about what your life would look like now if you had never broken up with trevor. thinking how you could be with him doing god knows what. maybe getting in a little trouble, maybe just spending the night in the back of his god-awfully colored bronco at the old lookout point. how he’d be busy cracking jokes, teasing you to no end, all while you playfully would shove his chest before grabbing his chain and pulling him in for another kiss. not stopping until your already swollen lips looked as if you were both stung by bees. instead, you were met with the cruel reality of not having a single clue where trevor was, or what he was doing. you were left alone with your thoughts about when things seemed as if they were never going to end and there was stuck with you: how did you ever think trevor zegras would turn out as a toxic person? 

if officer collins had been speaking to him, trevor wouldn’t have had a single clue as to what he was saying. the entire ride to the police station he was busy listening to the in-and-out crackling of the transmitter radio connected to the patrol car. he wasn’t listening to what the dispatcher was saying about situations that need police assistance, or even what the officers were saying in response to these calls. no, he was too busy listening to the static of the transmitter radio as it brought him some sort of weird comforting feeling in his drunken state. taking a deep breath to the beat of the static he sunk into the backseat, head still pressed against the glass staining it with blood and the lingering alcohol on his breath. the static helped lull him into a dreaming dazed state. one where he still had you. in his daydream, you were sitting on his lap as you and all of your friends were huddled around a fire at the hughes lake house. you had just spent the entire day wake surfing and tubing, and now you were sitting around the fire with newly sunkissed skin. the residue of s’more’s gracing the corners of both yours and trevor’s lips. you would be starting to fall asleep in his arms, lazily smiling and laughing at something cole had said before staring back up at trevor as his eyes would’ve already been on you. he was convinced that if you ever got back together his eyes would never leave you in fear of losing you again, so that’s how he pictured it. you falling asleep while staring up at him. surrounded by all of your friends, completely and utterly in love with each other. the sound of a page for officers interrupted the beauty of the transmitter radio static, as well as the daydream trevor, was lost in. groaning he smacked his head back against the headrest, starting the vicious self-loathing cycle he ended up when drunk - hating that he didn’t even know what he did wrong to have lost you. 

“how did i ever think trevor would end up as a toxic person?” 

before he knew it, officer collins was pulling open the back door again and greeted him with a tight-lipped smile. “alright kid let’s get this all over with.” sighing trevor barely nodded his head as collins pulled him out of the car, and slammed the door behind him once again. trevor kept his head down as he was led into the police station. praying that somehow, this would all work out where his name didn’t end up on page six of the local newspaper, and things wouldn’t reach the executive offices of the ducks. part of him knew it wouldn’t, not when charlie henderson couldn’t jeopardize himself or his last name either. yet as officer collins worked on taking his fingerprints he couldn’t help but begin to worry. about what you would think when you read about the charges in the local paper. what your parents would think, would they still like him? what his parents and family would say. he could already hear griffin’s voice saying ‘are you fucking stupid?’ but he was currently stuck on wondering what the ducks would say about all of this. what twitter would say, because sooner or later his entire life always ended up on twitter, it was always just a matter of time. somewhere in his train of thought, he was handed a plaque reading his name and the date for his mug shot, still clinging on to the piece of hope that all of this would get blown over as soon as charlie and his friends were brought in. he turned to the sides when told, hands tightly holding on to the black plastic in his hands. waiting patiently for his next instructions. until it happened, and he felt his heart race within the confines of his rib cage. 

“alright kid, you can go make your phone call now.” 

your mother seemed stunned at the question, you have completely caught her off guard once more. she remained silent as you tried to choke back the sobs that were about to resurface from earlier. remembering he hadn’t answered your phone call, wondering why you had felt like you weren’t enough for him, why you thought he would force you away from your dreams when he was the one who pushed you and supported you to try and accomplish them. (which you had since done. having graduated from boston college and were currently in the process of deciding which university to complete medical school at). you had helped save him countless of times before, no matter how drastic the measures you were there for him, and he was there for you. yet in your greatest time of need, when you needed him the most, you refused to open up enough to him to allow him to help combat your self-doubt and took the easy way out instead. “you lost your way for a little while, honey,” your mother finally spoke with ease to her words. trying her hardest to make you believe what she was saying. “you lost your way and lost sight of what was truly important to you other than your degree and med school, and that’s completely okay. you’re human - shit happens. you live and you learn. you lost sight of the person you loved because you were starting to lose yourself, but you’ve found your way back. it’ll all work itself out. eventually.” you threw yourself into your mother's arms, holding on to her for dear life. 

as your father walked back into the living room (trying his hardest to act as if he hadn't heard the entirety of your conversation) he couldn’t help but smile at the scene in front of him. happy you were finally allowing yourself to grieve with the loss of trevor and yours relationship, and that you were trusting your mother with this information. finally trusting in yourself to come to terms with the fact you needed and wanted trevor in your life because you loved him deeply. he kissed the top of both yours and your mother’s head before taking his rightful seat again. just in time for the sound of a phone ringing to interrupt the tender moment being shared. 

confused you pulled away from your mother's loving arms and fished your phone from the front pocket of your sweatshirt. confusion etched deeper in your face as the number popped up with a small caller id under it. licking your lips you looked at both of your parents as your heart started to race inside your chest, “it’s the police department.”

officer collins was nice enough to remove trevor’s handcuffs in order to make the call. so with shaky hands, trevor reached forward to the landline in a dimly light hallway. taking a deep breath in, he closed his eyes and punched in your phone number from memory. he could feel the tears prick at his waterline as he waited for you to pick up the phone. the dial tone rang loud in his ears until finally, it didn’t. and for the first time in three years, he heard the sound of your breathing. the silence was deafening as he waited for you to speak, desperate to hear your voice. then there it was: “hello?” 

after watching your parents shrug their shoulders you made the split decision to answer the call. you were met with the sound of breathing on the other line, mind racing as to who could possibly be calling you from the police station at this time of night. when the person on the other end of the line hadn’t spoken you took it upon yourself to. “hello?” you asked with uncertainty in your voice, and just by the sound of their sigh of relief you knew who it was instantly. “t-trevor?” it came out it in a choked back whisper, your mind not able to process the fact he was most likely in jail. “what, why are you calling me from the police station?” 

he could hear the panic in your voice through the phone, green eyes closing so he could picture what you looked like right now. the look of fear on your face from getting a call from an unknown number and it’s him. “uh, h-hi, y/n/n,” he slurred, tears slipping out of his closed eyes because he couldn’t believe it. you were on the phone with him. you were talking to him. this was real. 

this was real. for both of you. trevor was in the police station. he’d been arrested and he had chosen to call you. 

your heart dropped into your stomach as you felt anger rise through your body, yet you weren’t quite sure why. maybe it was because he had been arrested. maybe it was because the first time you’d heard from him in years was because he was calling you to come and bail him out. but at the same time, you tried to remain calm. preparing yourself for whatever it was that he was about to tell you. “so um, i’m sure you’re probably wondering what i’m doing calling you from the police station’s number.” he tried to force out a laugh, but next to nothing came out. and you could tell he was nervously waiting for your reaction.

“i mean it’s not every day you get a call from your ex-boyfriend.” your words had cut him deep. ‘ex-boyfriend’. he bit his lip in order to prevent a whimper from escaping his mouth at the dreaded word. “but then again, it isn’t every day you get a call from your ex-boyfriend who’s in jail, so yeah trev, i am wondering why you're calling me from the police station.” while your words had seemed bitter, your tone was nothing but soothing to him. he could tell you were currently trying to hold yourself together from the number of mixed emotions that had to have been coursing through your body. he also knew you meant no harm because you had called him ‘trev’. if you had called him anything other than that he knew you were over this. over him. over the phone call. over being his lifeline still after all this time. so with a small hopeful smile on his face, he started to make his case to you. 

squeezing your mother’s hand you braced for the explanation you were bound to hear. mind racing, and emotions swirling around like a tornado in your body. “i saw you,” he whispered, voice breaking as he spoke. you didn’t need to hear what he said next to know he saw you at the stoplight with charlie, moments before your desaster of a date ended. “at the lights with charlie fucking henderson of all people!” that caused your blood to begin boiling. while his opinion of charlie was accurate, it still irked you that he had to make it known he disapproved. you weren’t his anymore. you didn’t owe him any reasoning on why you went out with charlie. on why you were allowing yourself to settle for him when all you wanted was trevor, but you couldn’t tell him that. you couldn’t allow yourself to give him that satisfaction when he was rotting in a jail cell with the other drunks that had been brought in for the night. “and it just, it ruined me, y/n/n. it ruins me, destroies me, sending me into a crippling to depression to see you when i come home every summer. to see you happy, without me. to see that our relationship must have meant nothing for you to just let me go like that. without a fucking reason as to why!” you didn’t know how much more you could take of his drunken ramblings, because hearing the truth come from his lips was something you never wanted to hear. you knew you hurt him, ripped his heart out and stabbed him in the back, but you never wanted to hear him say that. to hear what it felt like for him to come home and see you. “because i still love you, y/n/n. i love you more than anything in this world. so much so that i got into a bar fight with charlie to defend you against everything him and his friends were saying about you. so much that i’m calling you from jail. i love you so much that i can’t be in bedford anymore, and if i am here i have to drink away any and all thoughts of you because i promised to forget you when you broke up with me.” 

trevor sat on the other end of the line, slumping against the white paint cracked walls. awaiting an answer from you after he had just poured his heart and soul out to you. he could hear his heartbeat ringing in his ears. felt the watchful eyes of officer collins, and now officer shandy, watching and listening to what could either break his heart all over again, or bring it back to life. 

“y/n?” he whispered out into your ear. “are you - are you still there?” the worry in his voice was evident, he thought he was about to lose you all over again, and you could feel yourself slipping away from him once more. closing your eyes you fought with the tears, your head, and your heart as you pulled the phone away from your ear. “i’m sorry, i know that it’s a lot to take in. and you didn’t ask for any of this. or want any part of me any-” his voice was cut off by the sound the sound the dial tone. your finger having pressed the red button to end his drunken pleas with you. every thought you had about wanting to with him still tonight fluttering out the window, because a villain isn’t supposed to show remorse to those they hurt, they just keep hurting them. 

the hockey player jumped up from his seated position as the dial tone filled his ears again. “no! no, no, no, no, no. y/n, baby please. please!” he all but screamed into the phone that no longer had a caller on it. officer collins and shandy both began moving closer to him, seeing this as a potential threat to himself. “fuck!” he all but raged as he slammed the black plastic back into its holder. then crumpling down into the floor. head between his knees as he sobbed to himself over losing you once again. 

“y/n, why did you hang up on him,” your mother exclaimed. shocked that you had done what you just had after pouring your heart and soul out to her about how you still loved the twenty-two-year-old, and wanted to be with him again. “what about what you told me tonight? he still loves you!” 

shaking your head you pushed yourself off the couch, reaching down for the new bottle of wine before making your way to the stairs. “and i love him,” you finally whispered out loud to both your parents. your e/c eyes stayed glued to the stairs as you tried to work yourself off the ledge you found your self towering on. “but i can’t love him when he’s like this, so i have to be the bad guy, because i can’t save him from himself this time.” you knew it was the truth, but still you couldn’t help but feel like you were lying to yourself. you were the one who caused this pain, this anguish for trevor, and it was only you who could save him from it. but you refused. so you walked up to your room, locking yourself in there with the full bottle of wine, taking a page out of trevor’s book and trying to drink any thought of him away.

officer collins crouched down in front of trevor and place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “look kid, i’m really sorry she hung up on you,” he started to say with a sullen look on his face, “it wasn’t right of her to do that. not when you clearly still need her in your life, but unfortunately there’s nothing else we can do. we gotta put you in the holding cell until henderson finishes up, and then this will all go away. i promise. nobody will ever know.” 

trevor’s head shot up to look at the middle aged man leaning over him. his head shaking vigorously to disagree with what he was saying. in an instant he was resting on his knees, clutching his hands together as he stared up at him. “i beg you, sir, just let me call.” his voice was filled with a pleading note as he stared up at officer collins, praying he could get through to him. “i’ll give you my blood alcohol, i’ll rot with all the burnouts in the cell,” he began to list while tears clung to his eyelashes. “i’ll change my faith, and and i’ll praise the flag!” he exclaimed, “let’s wait, i swear she’ll call me back.” 

the oldest man in the hallway let out a sad sigh before glancing to his partner, then back down at trevor. “son, are you a danger to yourself?” he hated asking that question, but trevor was starting to scare him. he needed to know how concerned he should be regarding this situation. 

anger flashed through trevor’s green eyes after the question was asked, and as it hung in the silence of the hallway he pushed himself up off the floor. shrugging away officer collins hands he scoffed, “fuck that, sir, just let me call.” the pleading look on his face was slowly starting to slip away into something almost nobody could read. “i’ll give you my blood alcohol. i’ll rot with all the burnouts in the cell. change my faith, and i’ll kiss the badge. please, let’s wait. i swear she’ll call me back.” this time he reached out forward and grabbed officer collins hands, begging with everything he had left in him. trying his hardest to flash what he considered his puppy dog eyes, and appeal to this mans better nature.

officer shandy stepped in next, his hand reaching for trevor’s shoulders and bringing his attention fully to him. trevor’s green eyes bored into his blue ones, and he could feel himself begin to crack under the honest weight the officers held. his charming demeanor falling as the questions was asked:

“son, why do you do this to yourself?” 

it hung in the air as trevor’s shoulders sagged, showing that he was defeated. he was only twenty-two after all. twenty-two but still in love with a woman who didn’t want him anymore, and he just couldn’t let go of you. silently he thought to himself, about there possibly being another reason as to why he allowed this all to happen besides him still being in love with you. that maybe he feared something more than having lost you. “i’m not proud of all the punches that i’ve thrown,” trevor mumbled out into the silence, to be heard by the awaiting ears of the officers. “in the name of someone i no longer know.” a small smile cracked his face when he said that. thinking about you, what your voice sounded like, picturing that scared look on your face when you realized he was calling your from a police station. “for the shame of being young, drunk, and alone,” he finished while looking between the two. “but i would die for her, y/n, even if i don’t know her anymore.” 

the three remained quiet for an unknown amount of time. it had seemed fitting to just sit there in a silence while they all tried to understand the full events of the night. their peaceful silence was broken by the wooden double doors being pushed open to what looked like on of the newer officers. “officer shandy, officer collins, sir, mr henderson his here and has requested the dropping of charges against trevor zegras, and for this all to go away,” he explained before  slowly slipping back inside the lobby of the police station. trevor’s green eyes turned to stare at officer collins, waiting for some sort of directions. 

“i told you it would work itself out kid, maybe there’s some hope after all for you,” he reasoned while beginning to lead trevor back into the main area. instead of taking a seat at officer collins desk trevor was brought face to face with the chain linked fence of the holding cell, only there was nobody else in there and it would be just him tonight. “this is just until somebody has time to drop you off at home, we’ve gotta file out this paperwork before we can.” 

nodding his head trevor walked into the cell before slumping down against the bench. “i guess i shouldn’t have wasted my call on somebody who was just going to hang up on me, huh?” he tried to joke, only it didn’t help him like he thought it would. office collins gave him a tight lipped smile before turning on his heels and walking back to his desk. leaving trevor to slowly let his eyes close as he tried to block out everything regarding the events of tonight, hoping it would being him some sort of comfort if he did so. 

as the sun disappeared, and the moon slowly got higher in the sky griffin, as well as the entire zegras household, was beginning to wonder just what had happened to trevor. “has anybody seen trevor?” julie asked, there being just a touch of panic in her voice. “he never came home after getting the groceries.” both ava and griffin shrugged their shoulders not having a clue as to where their brother went, while gary looked up from his newspaper bewildered by his wifes previous statement. griffin caught ava’s gaze from above his phone as they shared a look of ‘oh maybe we should be good siblings and go look for him’ before either of them got out of their seats and one inched towards the front door, while the other towards the stairs. 

“hey mom, i’m gonna go to nico’s and catch up with him. don’t wait up,” griffin all but yelled before he slipped out of the house without waiting for a reply. once in the safety of his car he opened his phone to the messages with his little sister praying that she had somewhat figured out trevor’s location. 

god trevor’s actually sofucking stupid. he’s at the police station. good lucksoldier

groaning griffin threw his head back against the headrest, of course trevor was at the police station. it was only a matter of time until his drinking got him stuck in there. shooting ava a quick text he threw his phone down and sped out of their drive way towards the police station, only slightly worried about what trevor was waiting for him when he got there. 

there sound of a soft knock on your door startled you mid swig of wine, your body jolting forward enough to cause the red liquid to swirl around in the glass bottle. when the knock was heard again you set the bottle down and padded across the hardwood floor to your bedroom door. taking a deep breath you steadied yourself before reaching towards the silver handle, praying only slightly that when you opened the door it would be trevor standing there to greet you. to explain to you how all of this was just a misunderstanding, and it was all going to work out for the better. only when you pulled the door open you were met with your father’s sullen face, his hands clasped in front of him. “i know you’ve already talked enough about this issue tonight, sweetheart,” he started, his tone soft yet firm. “and there’s probably next to nothing left to say, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are the key to this solution, whether you like it or not, and i think it’s time you own up to it.” your eyes fell downcast as you took in his words, knowing that what he said held nothing but undeniable truth. shuffling you moved out of the doorway enough for your father to walk through before closing the door behind him. he led the way over to your bed, sitting himself on the edge, waiting for you to make the next move. 

taking a deep breath you sat down next to him, eyes glancing towards the bottle before you looked down at your hands. “if i’m the solution, where do i start?” 

it had seemed as if hours had passed by in the time trevor had closed his eyes until he heard yelling coming from every direction. only when he opened his eyes and found a clock he realized it had only been nearly twenty minutes. groaning he slammed his head back against the wall, green eyes glancing around the cell to see there was two new additions, nate and matt. trevor offered an awkward half wave to the two boys, which they both returned. “‘m sorry i beat you guys up,” he then apologized with sincerity in his voice. “y/n, she just, she means a lot to me. i still really love her, you know?” 

matt couldn’t believe what he had just heard from trevor zegras mouth: an apology. one that definitely wasn’t needed seeing as the three of them were purposefully trying to get a rise out of the poor guy. pushing him to see how far he would get before seeing red. glancing over towards nate, matt made the decision to speak next. “no apology needed man, i mean we said some fucked up shit,” he addmitted, finally starting to not fear having an opinion that was different from charlie’s. “none of which was true by the way. we all know y/n isn’t boring, or her dreams don’t suck. charlie’s just jealous that she’s actually going to do something with her life and he’s going to be living off his trustfund.” 

laughter erupted from the three men in the cell, all having agreed that charlie had no future. as the laughter began to die down nate sighed before being to speak next, “look man, we’re the ones who should be sorry. you knew your limit and when to stop, but we just helped hold you down as charlie tried to beat the shit out of you. we deserved everything we got tonight.” 

trevor just barely nodded his head to agree with them both, eyes once against scanning the police station trying to find charlie. his curiosity suddenly getting the better of him and wondering why he wasn’t currently in the cell with them. “so, where is charles?” he then asked, the question hanging in the air, pushing down against his chest. because depending on what was said his whole future could be at stake. sure officer collins and shandy said mr. henderson was going to drop the charges, but that didn’t mean charlie would still try something to throw trevor under the bus. he could feel his anxiety rise because of the stituation at hand once more, being to bite his nails while he waited for an answer. 

griffin took his time while driving to the police station. mostly because he was nervous to see his big brother behind bars, but partly because he wanted trevor to think nobody was coming to help him. of course griffin knew how self destructive trevor had gotten since your break up, the entire family did, but griffin was the only one who knew how bad it had gotten. he also knew you were still reeling in different feelings towards the nhl center, as he and ava were both still in contact with you. sure, he may have resented you a little bit for what you did up and out of the blue to trevor, but he also knew you must have had a reason to do so, so he didn’t judge. that much. that’s why he had tried countless times to break his brother’s harmful habits, knowing trevor had no chance to win you back if he kept falling down this path he was currently on. that’s why he took the twenty minute route to a destination that was only five minutes away, he wanted this time in that cell to mean something to trevor. he wanted him to reflect on himself, his actions, and how much he still truly loved you, because if he loved you the way he says he does, he’d stop the drinking with or without you. he just hadn’t come to that self discovery yet. 

your father reached over and grabbed your hands, “start by forgiving yourself, y/n.” his e/c eyes that matched your own bored into the side of your head, waiting for you to turn and meet his gaze. willing you to do so, even though it was in vain. your eyes remained rooted forward, staring at your now intertwined hands. “you’re guilt ridden, and your bones are heavy with the grief of the love you once had. forgive yourself for letting it go, as your mother said earlier, you’re only human. forgive yourself, then you can forgive trevor. then you can call him.” 

“charlie’s, uh, he’s in the process of having a screaming match with his father in the chief’s office,” matt explained with a crooked smile. “his dad is pissed he started something. again. but otherwise everything’s all good and has been taken care of. matt and i are just waiting for our rides home, what about you, z?” 

the question stuck with trevor, ‘what about you, z?’ well he didn’t know what about him. he wasted his phone call on you, you hung up on him, and now he was stuck in the cell until and officer could drive him home. god what a shit show that was going to be. shrugging his shoulders he tried to appear as if he was coming off as his normal easygoing self. “officer collins is going to drive me home, nobody answered when i called home.” 

sighing griffin killed the engine of his car and forced himself up and out of his car. he knew it was wrong to let his big brother sit and rot in there as long as he did, but it felt good doing it. he kept his eyes down while walking through the front door, making his way right to the front desk. leaning over it he waited for either an officer or receptionist to come and speak to him about what he was doing here. he waited a good five minutes, slowly taking in his surroundings and trying to locate his brother, but that was proved to be invain as he couldn’t the eldest zegras sibling anywhere. “hi honey, i hope you weren’t waiting too long,” a sweet older woman smiled while sitting back in her seat. “now, what can i do for you?” 

tears stung your eyes as you looked over at your father, “how is it possible to forgive myself when all i’ve been is a horrible person in the last three years?” 

“i’m here to pick up trevor zegras.” 

trevor’s head lulled backwards as he listened to both matt and nate talk back and forth about something he had lost interest in minutes ago. eyes closing as he tried to find some sort of peace, to try and calm his murky mind. he tried to not think of you and the events that got him to this point in his life, but he couldn’t help but focus on them. starting to feel ashamed of causing himself nothing but pain from drinking every time he came home to bedford. ashamed that he was alone. ashamed he had even the slightest hope you had still wanted him, but now he knew you surely wouldn’t want him after his drunken call tonight. he didn’t even want him right now. he let out a quiet groan to himself in order to not disturb nate and matt’s rambling discussion, wishing there was a way he could separate himself as a person. so he could be the person he was before your relationship again instead of the drunken shell of a man he used to be. and then, something happened that he hadn't expected. “mr. zegras, your ride is here.” his green eyes shot open, frantically looking around for a figure that somewhat resembles you, only he couldn’t see one. officer collins was staring back at him as the cell door opened for his release. “they’re waiting for you in the lobby where you can collect your personal belongings.” 

without another word trevor scrambled to his feet and padded slowly towards the open cell, glancing back to give the two other boys a half wave as a forced goodbye before walking out. silently he followed behind the officer who had shown him nothing but kindness, through the station, taking mental notes of every person he passed praying that he would be met with your face at some point. you had to be here. you had to have changed your mind and decided to come and pick him up, otherwise how was he getting released? biting his lip he began to fidget with his fingers as officer collins opened the door to the front lobby, and what he thought would be his breath of relief turned into his worst nightmare as he came face-to-face with his younger brother. “you’re not y/n,” he breathed, voice raked with nothing but sadness. “how did - griffin?” he then asked, completely bewildered by his younger brothers presence. he knew he should’ve been grateful. he no longer had to wait out an unnnecassary stay in the prison cell, but he couldn't help the way his heartached inside his chest while meeting his brothers stoic expression as tears began to slid down his sunskissed cheeks. “y/n, she didn’t come. i thought-” he cut himself off by clearing his throat and reaching up to wipe away the tears before they fell faster than he could stop. “nevermind, it - it doesn’t matter. let’s go home griff.” and just like that he tried his hardest to bottle up his emotions once again. mind racing to think of the next time he could get his hands on a case of beer. 

m/n l/n sat quietly outside of your closed bedroom door. ear pressed against the white wood as she silently cried to herself over the heartbreak and turmoil her only child was going through. the wooden door had muffled the sounds of your father’s quiet voice, but she could still hear the combination of guilt and melancholy that was spoken with every word as he tried to reassure you that you were worthy of self forgiveness. that you weren’t the horrible person you had thought you were. she also knew that while he words were directed at you, he was speaking to himself as well. because deep down she knew your father still held guilt for putting their relationship on pause, and thought because of his actions when he was your age, this was the world’s karma by creating a similar situation with his daughter. your mother could never truly understand the pain the both of you felt, which is why she sat outside your bedroom praying to herself that you would take your father’s advice to forgive yourself. praying that after all this time he would finally forgive himself. 

“y/n,” your dad whispered with a broken smile, “i’m going to be completley honest with you sweetheart. while i don’t believe you’ve been a horrible person these past three years, i can’t give you the answers that you’re looking for.” your bloodshot e/c eyes snapped over to him within seconds. he squeezed your hands lovingly before he pulled his e/c away from your own. “i still haven’t figured out how to forgive myself for leaving your mother all those years ago. i wish i could help you the way that you need me now, but i - i don’t have the answers. because i don’t think-” he let out a solemn sigh before looking back over at you with tears in his own eyes. “i don’t think we would’ve found our way back to each other if it weren’t for that night in the emergency room. every time i tried to work up the courage to call her, i panicked. i wouldn’t allow myself to stop dwelling on the pain that i had caused her for that year apart from each other. the exact same thing you’re doing by not allowing trevor back into your live - because you can’t stop thinking about the pain you caused him. but sweetheart,” he explained with wisdom only a father would have, “this chance you have to let him back into your life? it may not come again, so it’s up to you to decide what you want to do with it before it’s too late. and you’ll know, deep down in that giant heart of yours, whether you love him enough to forgive yourself, or if you’re going to hold one mistake over your head for the rest of your life as it passes you by.” 

you forced a laugh as you stared over at him and processed his tough love words. “if i knew you weren’t right i would be so mad at you right now, dad,” you confessed as you dropped your head against his shoulder. his own finding it’s place on top of yours. there was a long beat of silence before you decided to speak again. “i’m happy you were in the er that night, dad. you and mom are my idolization of love, and i just, if it hadn’t worked out for the two of you i wouldn’t have anything to believe in.” 

this time a sad chuckle passed by his lips before he pressed a kiss against the top of your head, “kid, if it didn’t work out for your mom and me, my greatest blessing in life wouldn’t be sitting right here next to me.” 

the silence was louder than any music that girffin could’ve been chosen to play. trevor was turned to face away from his younger brother, head pressed against the glass window once again. his sliding down against it while he tried to hide his face. “so,” griffin finally worked the courage to speak, “do you want to tell me what happened that you ended up in prison and were expecting y/n to pick you up?” 

taking a breath trevor turned to face his fears which were currently in the form of explaining his downfalls to his younger brother. “it’s a long story, griff,” he whispered, reaching up to wipe away his tears once again. “one we don’t have the time for, and i’m not ready to relive.” 

scoffing griffin pulled the car over on the side of the road. “we have nothing but time, trevor!” he yelled, voice cracking as he did so. “now, i deserve an explanation as to why ava and i had to go and pick up the groceries from the middle of a parking lot. an explanation on why you ended up in prison! why you’re nose is broken, and your knuckles are beaten to shit. please, trevor, i’m your little brother, and i’m scared.” that’s when the tears started to fall down his own cheeks. “you’re scaring me. you’re scaring ava. mom, dad. so at the very least, i deserve an explanation. because three years ago you weren’t the only person who lost y/n. i lost her too. we all lost her. what we didn’t expect was losing you too.” 

the silence was so loud that both trevor and griffin heard the sound of trevor’s heart shattering into the pit of his stomach. 

“you’re right,” trevor cried while meeting his brother’s stare for the first time since getting in the car. “you guys lost y/n, just like i did, and you didn’t deserve to watch me fall apart as you have for the past three summers.” his mouth went dry as he thought of what he could possibly say next, and what his brother needed to hear in order to correct his mistakes. “but you have, and it isn’t fair. none of this is fair, because life - life like to fucking kick your ass. so i’ll tell you, but only you, griff. you can’t go running to tell ava, or mom, or dad. only you.” 

the younger brother nodded his head instantly, forcing himself to stop crying to be strong for his brother. “start wherever, i’m listening, trev.” 

taking a deep breath trevor steadied his nerves and started his story with the end. “i gave y/n’s name as my emergency call.” 

----

taking a deep breath you could feel as your world began to spiral out once again like it had two nights prior. since you’d hung up on trevor, you had listened to your father’s advice and taken the past two days to think about things once more. to see them in a different light despite how much your head told you it was wrong, in your heart you knew it was time. so after listening to his voicemail one more time, you had made up your mind. it was second nature as you started to dial his phone number, not wasting time to find his nameless contact. 

picking at your nails you waited anxiously as the dial tone played in your ears. 

it went through once.

then twice. 

finally, a third time before your call was connected.

and with a shaky breath, you breathed out his name for both you to hear.  “trevor?”

[after-witch]

Love is the Honey [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title:  Love is the Honey [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: You were kidnapped by Chrollo Lucilfer, and truth be told, things aren’t exactly terrible. You don’t have to worry about bills or paying for groceries or appeasing a shitty boss. It’s come at the price of your freedom, but it might be worth it. There’s only one thing you can’t accept, and it’s the one thing Chrollo won’t stop trying. 

word count: 5417

notes:  yandere, kidnapped reader

Outside, the city lights are all whites and reds and greens, twinkling and glistening amidst the darkness of the night sky. But from up here, you hear nothing of the bustling night outside. 

No sounds of half drunk friends giggling with arms linked, traveling from bar to restaurant and back to bar again. No car horns laid upon by impatient drivers, eager to get home after a long day at work. No quarrels, no compliments, no queries about what you’re doing later tonight. 

Nothing at all.

Up here, in this hotel room, there is only you and the quiet hum of the air conditioner--and of course, Chrollo. Better known as your kidnapper, who is (at least for the moment) blissfully quiet. Minus the sounds of turning book pages, but those hardly register. Not when you’re absorbed in your own book, and not when you take a break and stare out the window at the city below.

Far, far below. He tends to book rooms as high as he can get them. You’ve wondered if he does this on purpose, a deterrent, since you can’t hope to escape out the window. Or if he simply prefers to be up and above everyone, literally and figuratively. But maybe you’re overthinking it. 

Maybe the luxurious rooms he prefers to book tend to be on the higher levels. Above all the noise of the city, of the restaurant on the first floor, of the laundry that churns out fresh sheets and towels, washing away dirt and fluids and whatever else someone has left behind in a hotel room. 

Did the workers ever wonder about the people behind those dirty towels, those rumpled sheets? Did a bellboy ever see you, your tired expression, and think, Hm, I wonder if she’s all right? Did the maid who turned over your hotel room see the stacks of books piled up near the window, the blanket and pillow stuffed on the chair, and wonder: But aren’t they a couple? Why would she be sleeping on the chair and not the bed?

Truth be told, there’s only two things that infuriate you about your current situation. One, that Chrollo repeatedly tries to put the moves on you. And two, that he insists on trying to make you sleep with him in the same bed. Keyword being, of course: trying. You’ve yet to give in.

The rest of it? The rest of the life that came with Chrollo, you can accept. It’s almost cathartic. Sure, you don’t have freedom of movement, of choice, of life.

But you have freedom from so much else.

Freedom from having to work day and night just to make enough money to pay your bills, and sometimes you still got behind on them. Freedom from worrying about whether or not the funny sound your sink made was an issue with the plumbing that would drain your savings and rack up more debt. Freedom from your friend’s drama and your mother’s exacting expectations that you could never meet. 

Besides, the lifestyle he forced you into gave you opportunities you’d never have otherwise. You usually stayed in high-end places, fancy hotels and condos; there was the occasional ramshackle safe house, but they were few and far between. They were always just the right temperature with just the right amenities, keeping you safe and comfortable. 

You got to do whatever you wanted, within reason. You could read as many books as you could get your hands on; you could ask for crafts and hobbies, and he typically indulged in. 

You ate good food every night and never wondered where your next meal would come from, or debated skipping meals to save money. You’ve tried dishes that you only read about in books or saw in films about rich people. Sure, some of it you couldn’t pronounce, and there was an air of superiority in the way Chrollo explained them to you. The taste, however, was completely worth the pompous comments.

And Chrollo himself could be tolerable. Sometimes. He was always up for a discussion or debate. You didn’t mind the traps he set, the way he tried to worm his way into your psyche at unsuspecting moments. Because what did that matter, when you knew you weren’t likely to get away from him unless he happened to die. Your life was this now, so who cared, really, if Chrollo wanted to psychoanalyze you because you wanted pizza for breakfast three days in a row? 

Sometimes you wondered what it said about society that you felt genuinely relieved to be kidnapped away from it all. The financial obligations. The social stress. All of it replaced with near constant indulgence in your personal whims and your mind’s lovely but strange ability to relax despite what should have been a high-stress kidnapping scenario. 

But… the damn bed situation. 

That’s one thing Chrollo refuses to do--accommodate your desire to sleep separately in any reasonable way. You’ve given up asking him to request two beds, you’ve even stopped asking if you would call room service and have them bring up a cot for the floor. But it would be nice if he would at least book a room with a sofa, and not simply a chair, which no matter how expensive the room is, is never comfortable enough for sleeping. 

He won’t, though. He’s nothing if not persistent in his romantic pursuit of you, outlined in little touches, the way he likes to lean in close to speak with you, voice hushed and husky and flirtatious. He’s offered to kiss you, flat-out, sometimes. You refused. He continues to offer, continues to touch, continues to want. 

He’s stubborn, in that respect.

But so are you. 

Which is why you don’t put up with it, don’t indulge in it, and ignore it as best you can. 

He may have kidnapped you. He may have taken away your freedom, but he wasn’t going to force you into a relationship. That was the one thing he wouldn’t take from you. 

On that, you stood firm. 

You just hoped the ground would never crack underneath the weight of his expectations.

--

“Dearest,” Chrollo says, and you don’t bother hiding the way you roll your eyes. It’s a pet name for a lover, and you are not a lover.

“Mm,” you respond, non-committal. You keep your eyes laser-focused on the coloring page in front of you. It was something they sold at a gas station gift shop, one of those books with complex lines and fanciful illustrations, aimed at adults with nothing better to do. Which, it so happens, turned out to fit you just fine.

There’s a pause. And then the shift of his clothing as he gets up from the queen sized bed and pulls out the chair across from you. He leans his elbows on the tiny side table, and you’re forced to scoot your book onto your lap to avoid it getting creased. Jerk.

You flit your eyes up to him.

“What’s up?”

At this, he exhales through his nose, almost a snort. Not quite as inelegant,  you suppose.

“You’ve been behaving rather well these past few weeks.” He considers. “Months.” He considers, again, this time tilting his head in what appears to be an exceptionally practiced gesture. “You’ve always behaved well, actually, haven’t you? From the start. From the moment you woke up in my…” He seems to reach for a word. “In my care.” 

You purse your lips. 

You remember the first day well. 

--

You were walking home from work, feet aching, mind thinking of a million obligations you had to get done before the week was out. That’s when you heard footsteps from behind you. 

You immediately froze. The footsteps stopped when you did. Slowly, you turned around, and there was a man standing there. An attractive man with a wrap around his forehead. When he saw your stricken expression, he smiled. 

“I apologize,” the man said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

You pressed your lips down. “It’s fine.” Your heart raced, because you weren’t stupid, and strange men coming up to you at night was iffy at best and dangerous at worst. You were going to cross the street and head into the closest diner, just to be safe. Or that’s what you planned to do, before it went sour. 

Before you could do anything, there was a terrible pinch in your neck and you saw his arm pull away just slowly enough to spot the needle in his hand. Everything went hot and blurry and when you woke up, you were in a hotel room bed with silk sheets underneath you and Chrollo Lucilfer standing above you. 

“Good morning,” he said, and smiled. 

--

Had it really been months since you were taken? You don’t exactly keep track of time, unless you’re eager to catch a certain movie on TV or you’re tracking the release date of a new book. You remember when you had to keep track of time for other reasons--making sure you got just enough sleep to avoid collapsing, calculating your work hours so that they would cover the bills, stretching your food budget thin enough to last the month.

Now, all you have to worry about is convincing Chrollo to head out to the bookstore on release date to get you what you want.

“Okay,” you say, after he’s been waiting long enough. “I don’t know why you’re bringing this up.” 

You feel like a teenager being praised by their parents. The praise he gives is unwanted, confusing. You don’t know what to do with it, so you stare down at the book in your lap, and let your mind wander to more fun things. Maybe you should have used a darker green for the leaves--

“I’m curious as to why you’ve behaved this way.” 

You shrug your shoulders without looking up. You’d like to get back to coloring, but if you tell him that, then he really won’t leave you alone. 

“You haven’t tried to escape,” he continues, leaning in closer. There’s mint on his breath. He sometimes crunches them, and the sound irritates you. When you tell him so, he seems to do it more, but you genuinely can’t decide if he does it on purpose to piss you off or if he’s that damn addicted to the little candies and their breath-pleasing effect.

“You don’t try to ask anyone for help. You don’t put up a fuss when we move from place to place.” One of his hands reaches forward and rests on top of yours. When you move to pull away, he interlocks his fingers with yours. His skin is warm and the intimate contact is unpleasant.

It’s this gesture that irritates you, finally, and you tug on his hand. He doesn’t relent and you huff. 

“So what? Do you want me to act like that? Do you want me to start screaming at the hotel concierge, “Help, I’ve been kidnapped!’?”

He chuckles. “There wouldn’t be a point, dear. No one would--”

“I know,” you interrupt. “No one would be able to help me. That’s not the point. I don’t ask anyone for help because it would be pointless. I don’t try to run because it would be pointless.” The edge of the coloring book suddenly becomes very interesting, and you bend the corner back and forth as you talk. “So why not take what’s good here and run with it? Unless you want me to start clawing at you every time you put your fingers near my thigh.” You let yourself grin, however empty it may look. “Actually, that sounds like a good idea.” 

“You don’t fight me,” he muses, more to himself than to you. “But you do have a mouth on you.” His lips twitch, almost an imperceptible annoyed gesture, before his expression smooths back out into familiar calmness. But you saw it, and it makes something in your gut feel tight. He normally doesn’t care if you get snarky, but what if…? 

His grip on your hand relaxes and he lets you pull your fingers away.

“You’re being annoying, and I’m going to color over here.” If your words are a little slower than usual, you can’t blame yourself for feeling nervous. But the half-smile you get in return is familiar territory, and the anxiety in your gut eases up.  

You sigh through your nose and scoot your chair backwards, taking your book to the room’s large windowsill and pulling yourself onto that instead.

“Can we get takeout tonight?” You ask, without looking up. The light by the window is nicer for coloring, you decide, if a little bit more uncomfortable for a long coloring session. 

“We’re going to cook tonight.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that he’s watching you, still sitting at the table. He leans his cheek against the palm of his hand. “The grocery delivery came this morning.”

You pout, all worries from the odd conversation gone. What little storm clouds that do show up in your life are, almost always, easily pushed away.  “I really wanted takeout from the place we got the other day. Can’t we do groceries tomorrow?”

”No. I don’t want the meat to spoil.” His voice is firm, and he doesn’t respond to your pouting or the whittling, vaguely cloying tone you’ve taken. 

You let your body sag in defeat. Oh, well. 

It’s one of the few instances in which you know you can’t, and shouldn’t, push him. Chrollo has always been very particular about food. Or food waste, you suppose, is what he’s most particular about. 

You learned your lesson on that months ago, when he insisted you finish the last bite of a meal you’d ordered, admittedly, out of spite. The stomach ache was not worth whatever triumph you imagined you’d get from sticking something in his figurative craw. 

You take up your colored pencils again and start to fill in yet another empty space. 

“Fine,” you mutter, determined not to let it spoil your otherwise relaxing evening. “But go easy on the garlic this time. It makes your breath stink.”

“Duly noted,” he murmurs. And there’s something almost wistful in his tone that catches your chest for a moment. But you push it away. 

Doesn’t matter, nope. What matters is the coloring page in front of you, the relaxing motions of gradually filling in each space with your desired color, the ability to focus on nothing but this activity and not have to worry about anything outside the walls surrounding you. 

You don’t look up.

--

Days blend into weeks blend into the blurry, vague--mostly comfortable--existence that is your life.

Or it used to be comfortable. Lately, very lately, Chrollo has become a bit stranger. It’s almost as if he’s on edge about something, which naturally puts you on edge. If he has something to worry about, then it must be serious, indeed. 

But it’s bothersome. Because not only has he been behaving as if something big is on the horizon, he’s gotten a lot more insistent on his desire for something more with you. Maybe his nervousness is making him less shy about approaching you and your veneer of coolness towards any affectionate gestures.

This morning, when you stepped out of the shower, the chair you’d pushed up against the window, also known as your bed for the past two weeks, was gone. Not moved, but simply gone. You didn’t bother asking him where it went. The cool smile on his face as he pulled his change of clothes from the hotel drawer was answer enough.

Maybe you should have yelled at him. But thoughts of his glances lately, the tentative way he’d begun to talk with you, the gut-roiling fear of something happening, stopped you.

And that’s why you’re here, now, sitting in the same bed as Chrollo Lucilfer despite swearing to yourself that you’d do everything in your power to avoid this moment. 

That’s why you’re enjoying the moment so fully right now, despite his proximity to you. He’s just… sitting, for once. Sitting and reading, or pretending well enough to fool you. Doesn’t matter, as long as he’s not trying to make a move.

But of course, he speaks, and breaks the peace. 

“Are you enjoying the book, love?” 

You turn the page.

“Not your love. But yes.” 

You glance over and see him set his own book down on the side table. No bookmark in sight. You wonder if he was actually reading it or if he was just pretending tonight. You’re not sure which would annoy you more. 

It doesn’t matter, because while you’re considering how you’re going to put off going to sleep for as long as possible, you feel the unmistakable sensation of his hand on your thigh. Your muscles tense immediately, and your brain seems to simultaneously. 

“Perhaps,” he says, shifting closer to you on the bed, “you can take a break from your book.” 

“I’d rather not,” you reply, biting, and try to shift your thigh away. But his tender touch becomes a firm grip on the meat of your thigh. You make a strangled noise and he leans in, voice irritating in your ear.

“You look beautiful tonight.” 

Your book gets set on the bed, half-open, and you swat at his hand. He doesn’t budge.

So you try something else. 

“What’s most beautiful about me?” You glance up at the mirror on the other side of the wall, above the faux fireplace. “The sweatpants that I’ve worn two days in a row, or that piece of broccoli stuck in my teeth from dinner?”  He finally did let you get takeout, after the groceries were used up. “Thanks for that, by the way.” It’s not entirely sarcastic.

“You’re welcome,” he says, voice all silk. You wonder, briefly, if he’s ever entranced anyone with that soft, low tone that should drip charisma but instead makes you want to poke him in the eye. Maybe it would have entranced you, if he didn’t take you forcibly. But you’ve sworn to hold onto the one thing you can keep--your consent--and you’ll be damned if you shrug that off like you have everything else he’s taken.

He brings his other hand up to trace the top of your ear and you flinch.

“Stop.” You sound for all the world like you’re fighting with a sibling who has decided to irritate you deliberately on a very long car ride. “You’re being--” Irritating? Pushy? Creepy? A little of all three? “You’re in my space and I don’t like it,” is what you settle for. 

It takes a few moments. But Chrollo does shift himself away from you, slowly removing his hand from your thigh, resting back in his previous position which was close but not unbearably so.

“You’re quite stubborn.” It’s said in a quiet tone that makes you want to think; it makes you want to wonder why he’s being so much more insistent lately, why he got rid of your chair when it’s something he’s indulged (not without complaints, mind you) for months. 

You pick up your book with an overly dramatic, obvious gesture, hoping it doesn’t look as false as it feels. 

“Well,” you tell him primly, resolving to get through the night with your dignity intact. “So are you.” 

--

To say that you were surprised the rest of the night passed uneventfully would be an understatement. It took you hours to fall asleep, because you were sure--absolutely sure--that Chrollo would take advantage of the nighttime proximity to slide his hands around your waist or kiss your neck or something else unwanted.

But he didn’t. If anything, he was quieter than normal. There were no honey-laden queries before you went to sleep, his usual attempts to drag something personal out of you; all he did was bid you goodnight and rest his eyes. 

It was enough to make your stomach churn. 

And here you are, picking at breakfast. You weren’t in the mood for eggs--because of how restless you felt? You weren’t sure--but that’s what he gave you, and it’s what you were going to eat this morning.

The breakfast table is unusually quiet, almost taking on a veneer of domesticity, until he speaks up. 

“I’m taking you to meet someone today.” You look up, genuinely shocked. He continues, ignoring the wary, uncertain expression on your face. “Several people, in fact.”

The runny yolk clinging to your fork seems suddenly interesting. It makes a little pattern when you scrape the fork against the bottom of your plate, dragging gooey orange with it.

Your voice is thick with sarcasm, a tone you often take with him when the subject gets uncomfortable. 

“Soo… is this a ‘I’m taking you to meet my parents’ type of thing? Because I don't think t hey’ll--”

“No,” he says, interrupting. Something in his clipped tone makes you immediately clam up. There might as well be a red sign above his head, flashing, DANGER, DANGER, DO NOT ENTER. So you drop it.

“Companions,” he continues, more calm and routine now. He begins to butter your toast for you (a gesture he insists upon, and which you hate) as he speaks, and you shove a piece of warm egg white in  your mouth. “The closest ones I’ve had.” He pauses. “Except for you, of course, dearest.” He says this last bit to soothe your ego, as if you were offended--you weren’t.

You eye the toast he drops on your plate and pick it up. Maybe if you eat faster, you can get some reading time in before you go… wherever it is he’s taking you. Thinking about it too much makes you feel a little sick. 

“What’s the occasion, anyway?” The toast is warm and perfectly buttered and delicious. It annoys you, that he knows how to butter your toast so well. It’s such a stupid, small thing--but it’s grating, especially right now, with things so out of sorts. “You don’t normally let other people near me.”

He smiles, and you could swear it’s wistful. “No, not normally. This is different. It’s customary to introduce our companions once they’re… settled.” 

You don’t like how he says the word settled. You don’t like how he says the words companions, either, for that matter. You’re about to tell him as such, when he speaks up, asking a question that raises your alertness even higher. 

“Are you going to be good today?” 

Your lip quirks up, mouth still filled with toast, when you answer. This morning, the sass feels forced. 

“Am I ever bad?”

He hums, and sips his coffee. “That depends on the perspective, doesn’t it?”

You don’t respond, and the two of you eat in silence that doesn’t quite feel companionable. There’s something in the air. Thick and buzzy. You can’t shake off the feeling of dread that’s building inside you, and it doesn't get any better when Chrollo finishes his meal and stands to go clean up the dishes. 

Or when he leans over the table and places his hand on your hand.  His favorite gesture. Your fingers twitch but you resist the urge to smack him away today. It feels like the wrong move right now. 

“Really,” Chrollo says, adding your name with a seriousness that you’ve rarely heard. “Do behave yourself today.”

You swallow the toast and pretend the knot in your stomach is from the eggs.

--

Suddenly, Chrollo seems far more normal than you’ve ever viewed him before. Far more safe. And it’s this newfound perspective that keeps you almost clinging to his side.

You forget the names of the people in front of you as soon as Chrollo introduces them. You hope it doesn’t matter . You’ll probably forget their faces, too, if you don’t see them often enough. But you won’t forget the absolute power that radiates from them, even standing here simply and casually. You feel this with Chrollo, too, but never to this degree. Is it because Chrollo turns himself down for you, or because there’s only one of him? 

After, it’s time to introduce you. Chrollo has the decency to keep holding your hand--you don’t want to be separate from him for once, at this moment--as he nudges you forward just enough. He tells them your name--you wonder if they care, and then doubt it. 

“And it goes without saying,” he continues, some sort of soft pride in his tone, “that they’re my--”

Christ, you’re scared of the people in front of you, and maybe it’s the terror that pushes forward that impulsive, intrusive desire to keep Chrollo from telling his companions that you’re dating or in a relationship or whatever he had in mind. 

“We’re roommates,” you blurt out, loud, obtrusive. “Just roommates.” 

You’re proud of yourself for saying this, as you are every time you manage to keep the only thing you have left intact. Proud and relieved and feeling high from the adrenaline of it all. 

But oh, the way Chrollo grips your hand tighter. Oh, the way the expressions on the people in front of you shift in varying degrees, eyebrows raised, expressions disbelieving. One of them, impossibly huge with a matching mane of hair, snorts out a laugh that he smothers when Chrollo inclines his head just a fraction toward him.

Oh, you have fucked up. You have fucked up in a way that makes your stomach drop, makes your hand begin to tremble, and not just because of Chrollo’s increasingly uncomfortable grip on your hand.

--

The lock clicks behind you and it seems to resound louder than ever before. Was the hotel room always so chilly? Maybe the heat wasn’t working. 

Or maybe it was the fact that Chrollo said not a single word on the ride home, or on the way into the hotel, or in the elevator on the ride up to your room. You thought he might have calmed down on the way home, but no such luck. On the way, you tried to think 

You drop your coat on the bed and resolve to hop in the shower, to get away from him for a bit, to hopefully let things get back to normal. But he says your name, almost too quiet to hear, and you slowly turn to face him.

“Chrollo?” Your throat feels tight and you swallow against it. 

He’s staring down at his hand. At his finger. Then he looks up at you.

You’re about to make an absurd joke about a wedding ring, anything to ease the tension, but the deepened look in his gaze stops you. Deep and dark and almost frenzied. Your heart suddenly feels like it’s leaping. You pissed him off, you really did, and he didn’t have to say a thing for you to know it.

“Roommates.” 

He takes a step toward you. You take a step back. He takes a step forward. And you go back, until you’re against a wall. The shell you’ve made around yourself, carefully laid with quips and smirks and endless distractions, cracks with each of his footsteps.

”Listen,” you say, voice light and wobbling. Maybe you can save this. Maybe. “About tonight, I know I shouldn’t have said--”

“Be quiet,” he says, firm, unrelenting. You shouldn’t push him, and your stomach drops to the floor as he presses himself against you. 

In a moment, he’s not just against you--but kissing you. It’s not a nice kiss, nothing soft or sweet. There’s frenzy in it, desperation, frustration. You don’t know if lips can bruise but if they do, yours surely will. You keep your teeth clenched but it doesn’t stop him, licking and biting at your lips as your stomach flips horribly. 

It’s too much. You don’t want this, not like this, not him, not here--

After far too long, he slowly pulls himself away from you. The dark expression in his eyes has only deepened.

“You’ve really never seen it,” he says, breath warm against your cheek. He sounds as if he’s finally realized something important. And he has.

“What?” You blink, you shake your head, you want to get away. You turn your head away from him, anything to stop seeing that look in his eyes, but his hand grips your chin and turns it back. “I’ve never seen what?”

“The red thread,” he murmurs, the words soft against your lips.

“What are you talking about?” You don’t hide your confusion, voice cracking and airy.

The hand holding your chin relents and he trails his thumb over your sore lips before pulling away entirely.

“The red thread,” he tells you, and instead of anger in his voice there is only a deep indulgence. It scares you far more than the chilly atmosphere in the car ride back. “Why do you think I chose you, hm?” His voice drops lower and the words are too close, too intimate, too much. “We’re soul mates.” 

Your brain scrambles, but not a single snarky word comes to mind. You weren’t… completely oblivious to the concept of soul mates. You knew people who swore they could see a connection between them and someone else. Red threads, sure, and sometimes other things. Names etched on skin. Symbolic tattoos. But you had never seen anything like that on your body.

Was there really a red thread connecting the two of you? It would explain a lot of things. Like why he took you. Like why he put up with you.

“I don’t want to be soul mates.” You don’t mind it, the freedom from all those burdens. You will pay the price of captivity if it means release from all that, but this last thing? Your ability to be yourself, to be separate from him in some way? You won’t give that up. Not willingly. Never. 

He only chuckles, short and dark, at your words. There’s something bitter in it.

“It doesn’t matter what you want.” His hand comes up to caress your cheek again, and the unwanted touch seems to remind you of everything he’s taken from you. You’re starting to feel sick. “The thread that connects us was pre-destined. You could hate me, dislike me, all you want and…”

“I don’t hate you,” you interrupt, blunt, blurting. Intrusive thoughts win out again. 

He raises his eyebrows and his eyes widen and in that, there’s a fraction of vulnerability. Like a tiny fissure. 

“No? Then why do you persist in refusing me?” 

Looking at him is hard, but this time, he lets you turn your head away, dropping his hands to his sides. You’re stuck right in front of him, regardless. It’s the least he could do.

“I don’t like you… like that.” You bite on the inside of your cheek. “I mean, well. You kidnapped me. I don’t think that’s unreasonable to say.” You glance at him, but he doesn’t look angry. Merely interested.

You take a deep breath, and a confessional sigh escapes your throat. “But I can live with this.” You gesture towards the room. “With being kidnapped, I mean. It’s not all bad.” You think about how you no longer rip your hair out from stress or cry yourself to sleep wondering how the bills will be paid this month. “As long as you’re not trying to do… the relationship stuff.” You drag your teeth over your bottom lip.  You can still taste him, insistent and firm.

Tentatively, you let your gaze return to meet his. Behind his eyes, you can practically see the clockwork and cogs moving.

“I see,” he says, slow, thoughtful. “Thank you for the clear explanation.”

“Are you mad?” 

He smiles. It looks like a weight has been taken off his chest, and that scares you. 

“Of course not. Apologies will be in order for your behavior earlier today. But as for the rest? I’m not angered in the slightest.” 

“Why not?”

The hand, the one he claimed held the red thread, catches against your own. His fingers interlock with yours and you feel too numb to pull away this time.

“Simple, dearest.” He pulls his fingers tighter and somehow it feels like your hands will never part again. It’s a ridiculous thought, childish, but it makes your heart quicken anyway. “Since you are so prone to acclimating to your… situation in other respects, I feel confident that you will not always feel so negatively towards a relationship with me.”

You want to protest. You start to, but you can’t find the words–sarcastic or otherwise. 

“After all,” he continues, voice low and smooth and confident now. His other hand returns to your chin, tilting it up as he stares at you, assessing, greedily taking the sight of you in. “I have the rest of our lives together to change your mind.” 

[wixed]

Handle With Care

“Darling you sound absolutely divine.”  his hands grab to move your clothes out of the way best he can. Your eyes flutter open and you gaze into his, however when you meet his gaze your heart drops.

﹌﹌﹌﹌

Pairing: Astarion x Reader/You, GN Reader/You, Sex Ambiguous Reader

CW: Explicit content 18+, mutual masturbation, cum play, ingesting body fluids, dirty talk, talk of past trauma, talking through trauma responses, some angst, pwp, tav has anxiety and non-verbal shut downs.

Word Count: ~4500, two parter

Summary: You and Astarion have found a new rhythm since the defeat of the Nether Brain, living together and attempting something resembling normalcy. One night when he comes home feeling particularly riled up he attempts to initiate intimacy between the two of you. However, you notice he's mentally left, dissociated out of the moment and you decide to stop things. After a brief conflict that is quickly resolved you both decide to try something new to aid in the trauma response.

A tenday or two, possibly three or four came and went since you and your companions brought low the Nether Brain that threatened Baldur’s Gate. 'Perhaps the passage of time was best counted in months at this point' you think to yourself. Relative peace reigned over the city and lands beyond. You initially stayed in the ruined metropolis to help the rebuilding efforts. It wasn’t necessarily where you wanted to settle down, but it served as a decent home for now. 

You weren’t exactly sure where home was going to be, actually. You and Astarion had talked about theoretical futures together the night following the Brain’s defeat, theoretical being the keyword. All you knew for sure was that he was in it. For now that was good enough. No, it was more than enough, it was everything. He was everything. You didn’t notice the smile that crept upon your face while cleaning the remaining dishes from yesterday's dinner. Thoughts of Astarion could make even the most mundane tasks delightful.

“And just what, pray tell, has you smiling to yourself like that? Cleaning dirty cups surely can’t be that amusing”, your lover muses as his arms snake around your waist. Initially startled, your body tenses, but relaxes quickly when it recognizes his touch and scent.  You hadn’t even heard him enter your home, let alone heard him come up behind you. 

“You're particularly light on your feet today" you tease "and if you must know, I was thinking of you.” You turn your head to kiss his cheek as he nuzzles into your neck and hums a happy noise. You smile at the noise and his closeness. Your partner being so close reminded you of times past, when touch wasn't so easy for him. Your mind drifts to memories. 

When you first hugged him, you thought he’d shatter. The elf’s body was so stiff as you wrapped your arms gently around him. Eventually he returned the hug as you felt the first layers of ice start to melt around him. As the days would come to pass, so would more layers of the thick frozen facade that was the Astarion you first met. Those layers would melt away to reveal the man now happily hugging you. His voice cuts through your reminiscing, bringing you back to the present. 

“I couldn’t keep you out of my thoughts either, darling.” Another kiss to your neck punctuates his admission. "Hours feel like days without you." He presses his body up against yours. A shiver of goosebumps spread across your arms. You close your eyes, your cleaning paused as the moment consumes you. You give a quiet hum of satisfaction. His errands must have been very boring, or very frustrating, perhaps both if he was this worked up already. His hands move over yours, guiding them to the countertop before you. His lips brush against your ear. 

“Darling, put the cup down.” he quietly but firmly orders. Another shiver. Your fingers loosen their hold on the cup you had been cleaning. It makes a small splash as it falls back into the bucket of water. Your breath becomes shallow and sharp as his hands move to your waist again, this time grabbing and pulling, turning you to face him. Your eyes meet his, you could lose yourself in them, as if you’re being pulled down into a pool of crimson. He brings a hand up to caress your cheek. 

“There’s the face I longed to see. Longed to kiss.” His hushed voice has a rasp that sets your heart racing. Gods, you loved him. He ran his thumb over your lips, as if to prepare them for his. He leans in and presses his lips to yours, his hand gliding to cup the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair. His other hand still grabbing at your waist, moving to your hips, pulling you closer. Your hands were behind you, bracing yourself against the counter, your lover’s need catching you off guard.

Your lips part and you breathe out his name, he practically purrs as he goes for your neck again. Kissing under your chin, down your jaw, moving to the place he frequented for blood. He gave the scars he’d made there extra attention and care, licking over the puncture wounds. You feel a shudder move from your shoulders down to your knees at the lick. He must have felt your reaction too. 

“I love how you squirm for me.” He deftly guides you to the side of where you were standing before, nipping at your neck all while doing so. His hands grab your thighs as he lifts you up onto the counter. You close your eyes again, rolling your head back, enjoying the attention he’s lavishing upon you. You run your fingers through his soft hair, the silvery curls wrapping around your fingers, as if every part of him wanted to play with your body. 

His hands rub up and down your thighs until they find their way to the core of where heat is building inside you. His nimble fingers mixed with a kiss to your sensitive ears tease a moan from you. Humming happily at the noises you make for him, his fingers start to caress your most sensitive areas, rubbing and groping in ways that drive your senses wild. A shiver shoots up from the bottom of your spine to the base of your neck, gooseflesh rising across your skin in response. He smiles at the shiver, leaving your neck. 

“Darling you sound absolutely divine.”  his hands grab to move your clothes out of the way best he can. Your eyes flutter open and you gaze into his, however when you meet his gaze your heart drops.

You see more vermillion color in his eyes than you feel you should, his pupils aren’t dilated with lust or pleasure, his eyes seem dull and…empty. You realize what’s happening, it’s happened before. He’s gone somewhere else, to where you’re not sure, you just know he’s not really here with you. 

The two of you had talked about this before briefly. You’re aware of the reasons why, as is he. Trauma. It almost feels wrong to summarize it into one simple word. It’s both just as simple as that, and so much more complicated. He didn’t want to elucidate though, and you didn’t want to push. You lose track of time, losing yourself in your own thoughts until his hands begin to slip into your pants and make contact with you, skin to skin. A sharp inhale hisses through your teeth. He assumes it’s from the sudden proximity of his fingers and kisses down your neck to your collarbone. 

“As-Astarion…” you quietly plead his name. He’s told you before it’s fine, you know he wants you. This knowledge doesn’t soothe the ache in your heart or the pit in your stomach. You’ve never stopped him before, but you can’t keep going, not this time. It’s too painful. “Astarion stop.” your voice quivers, barely audible. Your lover didn’t hear your small plea. Your hands move to his chest gently pushing him from you. “Astarion, we need to stop”,  you more assuredly command.

His hands remove themselves from your clothing to hold your trembling hands, a look of concern washes over his face. “What is it, love? What’s the matter? Did I do something wrong?”  His eyes fill with worry and while you feel a pang of guilt you also feel relief that he’s returned to them. His question struck through your heart like a dagger, though. ‘No, you didn’t do anything, it’s not your fault, but we have to stop because of your trauma response.’ How would you even begin to bring it up without sounding cruel? 

“I…I’m fine. It’s just - I don’t know how to say it.” You feel your face start to flush with the heat of anxiety while the pit in your stomach grows and turns. He squeezes your hands in reassurance. “Whatever it is you can tell me, darling.” His voice soft and delicate. 

You swallow the lump forming in your throat and take a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “You left. You weren’t here with me.” 

His look of concern slowly shifts to that of confusion. “I’m sorry dear, I don’t follow. When was I not here?” You slip off the counter, standing in front of him, hands still pressed to his chest.

“Just now. When we were being…intimate. You went to that far away place. I-” a nervous hitch in your voice almost chokes you. “I couldn't keep going. I’m sorry. I can’t enjoy it when I know you’re not.” His face twists into an expression you can’t quite place. Somewhere between hurt, shame, and anger. 

“What ever are you on about? I initiated this, why would I not be enjoying it? You’re spending too much time in that pretty little head of yours, darling.” He attempts to candidly brush off the topic. He brings his hand up to your face and brushes your cheek disarmingly. You narrow your eyes in gentle resolve and shake your head. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. I’m not mad about it, this isn’t meant as a punishment, I just… I can’t. I shouldn’t.” You know you’re not saying this right, there’s probably a dozen different ways to say this better, but your head is a fog and your chest feels like a storm’s swirling in it. 

He steps back from you dropping your hands as he throws up his. “I don’t understand, I’ve told you I want you, I want this. That I desire you.” he breathes out a sigh of frustration “Yes, sometimes I … do what you’re talking about, but I  promise you, I’m enjoying this.” The annoyance in his voice gave way to exasperated pain by the end of his words. He brushed his curls out of his face, moving his hand through his hair with another sigh. 

You were silent. The guilt you felt overwhelming every other emotion. You began to fidget with your fingers nervously. Words weren’t forming the way they should. You knew he wanted you to acknowledge what he’d said, yet all you could do was avert your eyes and shift uncomfortably.

“I’m not some fragile little babe that needs to be swaddled away from the world.” The frustration grows with a tone of pained anger. You want so badly to take it all back. A wish that you had just kept your mouth shut rockets to the forefront of your mind. 

Astarion gave a huff in irritation at your silence, turning away, ready to leave the conflict. You grab his hand before he could, eyes filling with tears at the touch. 

“I’m sorry…” you choke out, unable to control the quiver in your voice. He immediately softens. The shoulders he had squared up in response to the situation relax and drop. He once again lifts a hand to your face, wiping away the tears threatening to trail down them. 

“Oh love, don’t be sorry. I… I understand why you’re hesitant. Perhaps it will help if I explain things better.” He guides you by the hand to a loveseat in front of the hearth with a fire still crackling. He sat down next to you, his body turned to face you. He gently wipes away more tears as you attempt to compose yourself for what he has to say. 

“I appreciate you looking out for me. Truly. I often still forget that I have a person who loves me, scars and all.” he smiles softly, his round eyes lending a sense of safety and calm as they gaze into yours. 

“I’ve lost so much. So much of my life was taken from me; my freedom, my past, my body, the very breath from my lungs, all whisked away.” he gave a flourish of his hand to emphasize his words.  “Those 200 years of agony and torment made me believe I could never have any of it back.” He took both your hands in his and squeezed them, his thumb rubbing circles against your skin lovingly. “But then you showed me it was possible to take it back.”

You smile at his words. You felt so much love and pride for Astarion. He took ownership of his life back, and he chose to spend it with you. The thought made your heart swell. 

“While I’ve reclaimed some parts of my life, there’s still some things that feel …lost still.” His gaze travels down to the floor momentarily, he takes a deep breath and pushes on. “Ca-... He took so much from me. I don't want this, us, the intimacy we share to be added to the list.” 

Your brow furrows with concern and heartbroken sympathy. Your hand cups his cheek, your thumb gently wiping away a tear forming at the corner of his now wetted eyes. 

“I know it hasn’t been easy, that I still have a lot of …healing to do.” He pauses on the word like it pains him to admit he’s not finished with that part of his past. “I’ve already asked so much of you, my dear but can I be a bit selfish-” he momentarily pauses with a chuckle.”-can I be more selfish and ask you to be patient and trust me while I attempt to reclaim those parts of myself again?” 

You swear if your heart was any fuller it would burst there on the spot. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. You cry softly into his neck and whisper through the tears “Of course, love. Always and forever, whatever you need.” You press a small chaste kiss to his lips. He pulls away from the kiss to pepper more on your cheek, nose, eyelids, forehead, wherever he can kiss before you laugh and rest your forehead against his. He breaks the blissful silence first.

“I love you.” Foreheads still pressed together, his words are accompanied by his hand stroking your hair, combing through it with gentle care.

“I love you, too.” You respond, closing your eyes, taking in the moment with every sense you could. Your lover suddenly but gently pulls you down onto him as he reclines back onto the couch. His arms wrapped so tightly around you there’s no chance of falling off the furniture you’re sharing. You smile and nuzzle into his chest. The two of you stay there, content to just exist in each other’s arms. Sharing space, time, love, sharing everything and anything the world had to offer. 

﹏﹏ Part 2 ﹏﹏

The night went on with a blanket of silent calm that eventually fell over the city. You and Astarion were still cuddled on the love seat, now casually sharing stories of your respective evenings after your very emotional not-quite conflict was resolved. Laughter and smiles fill the room as he complains about politics “The state of judiciary proceedings in this Gods forsaken city is as put together as a child’s left shoelace.”

“Why just the left?” you asked through laughter. 

“Tch, Please darling, everyone knows the left foot is always more out of step than the right.” he very matter-of-factly states with a wave of his hand as if the answer is obvious. 

“Oh, of course, my mistake.” You both chuckle and settle into another rapturous quiet as one hand plays with your hair while the other softly rubs your back. A happy sigh leaves your lips as you trace a finger along the intricate embroidery of his vest. Perhaps it’s because you’re so relaxed and euphoric that you don’t think about the next words out of your mouth.

“Do you ever pleasure yourself?”

His hands freeze as there is a long pause between your question and any other sound. You immediately get flush in the face and bury your head into his chest. He looks down at you with bemusement, eyebrows quirked as much as they possibly could be. 

“Excuse me, dear… Did you just ask if I” he clears his throat “-if I pleasure myself?” He can’t stop the amused confusion from coloring every word in his question.  You bury yourself further into his chest, hoping that would adequately hide you from his teasing.

“I...well, I was just thinking…” you manage to squeak out through muffled embarrassment. You hear him hum a noise that’s almost predatory, as if his mood made an immediate shift. 

“Mmm, thinking about my pleasure? Go on…” he moves his hands to continue rubbing your back, moving lower as he does. 

“Just answer the question, Astarion.” You could feel your pulse racing as the heat in your cheeks climbed to what you were sure was an impossible temperature for mortal cheeks to achieve. “Please.” You add to the end of your plea. 

He huffs at your refusal to indulge his flirtations, “Of course I’ve pleasured myself, darling. I haven’t felt the need to do so in a while, especially now that I have you. But I’ve ‘done the deed’ so to speak.” Hints of embarrassment were at the edges of his words. “What brought on this line of inquiry, dear?”

You find the strength to unbury your face and look up at him, his face wearing a soft smirk. “I was just thinking about earlier and what we talked about. It made me wonder if you ever…you know… go there when you touch yourself.” You try to delicately present the question while still trying to make it clear. He seems to understand as the smirk slowly turns to a pensive neutral expression.

“I…well… I don't…hmm.” He muses thoughtfully, “It’s different, I suppose. Whatever fear or self preservation induced anxiety that might seep in doesn’t stick.” His words find tentative purchase, as if he’s working through the reasons as he explains it out loud. 

Now it was your turn to be impishly suggestive. “I have an idea.” You prop yourself up, bracing yourself on either side of his shoulders, looking down at his very confused but entertained expression. 

“If you don’t get anxious when you pleasure yourself, maybe we can try using that. Sort of an in between step, something we can do …together.” He watches your lips intently as you continue to explain your brilliant idea. His hands move to your thighs and position you over him so you could feel how hard he was getting by just talking. Your eyes flutter shut for a brief moment as you enjoy the feel of him beneath you, you grind your hips ever so slightly against him in response. 

A low sigh of lust fueled longing left his lips as he came up to kiss you. You pull away to continue your thought. “We could make it into a game, a challenge if you will? We watch each other experience pleasure at our own hands.” you move your hips again, leaning down to whisper in his ear “But we can’t touch each other, only watching until we reach ecstasy together.” You kiss his neck and he writhes under you, being driven absolutely wild. 

“My sweet, I'm afraid if you don’t get off of me now, I won’t be able to keep my hands and other things to myself.” He gently thrusts upward so there’s no ambiguity as to what he means. You feel a sense of smug satisfaction as you smile and move to your shared bedroom, removing clothing until there was nothing but your small clothes remaining. He follows behind you, quickly removing his own clothing, the both of you leaving them wherever they lie on the floor. Too distracted and purpose driven to care about the trail of clothing from the love seat to the bedroom. 

You hop onto the bed, positioning yourself at one end. With hungry eyes you watch your lover climb up with you, taking in just how beautiful he was, how much just the sight of his body drove you to the edge of sanity in all the best ways. 

“This was your idea, dear. Why don’t you get started.” The demanding and suggestive tone made your most sensitive areas throb with yearning heat.

You were all too eager to do exactly as he commanded. You move your hand between your legs and begin to touch yourself through the flimsy cloth that still remains there. You’d never done a lot of dirty talk before, but the words fell from your mouth like water from an overfull spring “I want to see you enjoy your body, my love. To hear you moan and whine for me from just the touch of your own hands.” You keep your eyes on him, not wanting to miss a single second. “I need to see you lost in your own bliss.”

A desperate growl from the pale elf echoes in his throat. It turns into a snarl as he locks eyes with you. He removes himself from his remaining under clothes and takes himself in hand. An immediate deep sigh dances on his lips. 

“Fuck." You can't help the profanity as it leaves your mouth. You take him in with your eyes, his still focused on you with blown out lust filled pupils. You quicken the pace of your touch, teasing lewd moans from your own throat. 

"Darling, more…  touch yourself more.” He pumps his cock into his hand, beads of precum already blossoming at the tip. You see his gaze travel from your eyes down your body to where your hand is busy obliging his command. The sharp ridges of your teeth bite down on the soft flesh of your bottom lip. Throbs and pangs of pleasure beat at your core. It's building quickly as you shut your eyes. 

You suddenly feel a shift on the bed and flutter your eyes open as your lover attempts to crawl over you. He stops with one arm supporting his weight on one side of you, the other still gripping and slowly stroking up and down the length of him, hovering over you with a ravenous stare. 

"Ah ah love, no touching. You don’t want to lose our little game do you?” You wet your lips with your tongue as you chide him, close to drooling over the sight of Astarion above you. He gives a smile that shows his hunger for you, his fangs prominent and ready to bite down like you were prey. 

“I do so loathe losing.” He emphasizes the word ‘loathe’ and he gets close to your ear, his breath torturously brushing over your skin. You whimper at his obvious ploy to coax you into touching him first, thus losing the game. You respond by shuffling off the remainder of your underclothes, your nakedness sprawled beneath him, tempting his every urge and instinct.

“You are dastardly.” His hand quickens pace as he strokes his cock, paying special attention to the sensitive tip, gathering the building slick and swiping it down his shaft. He focuses on your face, taking in every twist and twitch of ecstasy that courses through you. You find a rush of excitement flood your cheeks with crimson at the intensity of his stare. Your fingers stroke yourself feverishly, desperately. 

Suddenly a warm wet sensation hits your pelvis. You take the moment to swipe the precum that spilled onto you with a finger from your free hand. You bring it to your mouth and smirk “Careful, love, you’re getting sloppy.” you go to lick the delicious juice from your fingertip when he growls out a low moan. 

“Don’t you dare, you torturous minx.” There was a hitch in his voice as he kept up his pace. He started to buck his hips as he continued to fuck his own hand. His body yearning for more, but his pride not wanting to lose this competition between the two of you. 

You couldn’t help the devious smile that crawled across your face. “Oh… I think I shall dare.” The tip of your tongue flicked across your finger, lapping up the juices he so carelessly dripped onto you. You sucked on your finger, not wanting to waste a single taste. You imagine wrapping your lips around his cock as you close your eyes and push your finger further into your mouth. 

“By the hells, darling…oh fff-fuck.” Astarion was losing himself in the sight of you. His body twitching as the stroking of his cock grew more vigorous and needy. He was close, and so were you. You used your saliva covered fingers to further lubricate yourself as you switched hands, your own hips canting upwards with every stroke. 

“That’s it love, come for me, p-please.” You beg for his pleasure getting lost in your own. Your head wants to throw itself back but you refuse to miss a single second of Astarion’s ecstasy. 

Your lover shuts his eyes as he quickly strokes himself, cries of pleasure escaping his lips. You feel his thighs shake as the pleasure builds in him, and with a final hard pump down his length he’s spilling his orgasm onto your naked torso. The feel and sight of his climax causes yours to crest over the edge and you cry out with him. You grip the sheets at your side with your free hand, your hips keening under him, begging for his body. 

Silence fills the room as you both heave quick sharp breaths. He finally takes a deep heavy inhale and brings his head down to yours, foreheads touching. Something far too sweet and tender for the lewd acts you both just partook of. 

“D-darling, th-that was…” he stutters on the words completely blissed out. He seems too taken with pleasure to continue his thought so you simply meet his lips with a kiss. 

“Yes, it was.” You complete for him, causing him to chuckle. He rolls to your side laying on his back, closing his eyes still taking in the delicious ambrosia. You move a finger to circle the cum still on your chest and belly. You hum a delighted noise as you bring it to your mouth and on suck your finger. 

“Darling, if you’re doing what I think you’re doing, you will have to prepare for round two.” He opens his eyes and turns his head to intently look upon you, lust and hunger building in him again. “And I’m not playing any games this time.” 

You coyly lick your lips and go back to collect more of his seed. 

Moving with what seemed like supernatural speed, he was on top of you, pinning your arms above your head. 

“I warned you, you deviant little thing.” He purrs with a grin. His lips press to yours in a greedy kiss, his tongue trying to find yours, passion and need taking over every part of his mind, body, and soul. 

As you begin to take of each other for a second time you have the thought that you should definitely do this again. 

***

A/N: First fic, I'm so nervous but the community on this site has bolstered my confidence enough to post this. Would love feedback. I've never written smut before, but really wanted to try it out. I wanted to try the challenge of not just gender neutral, but also leaving the biological sex parts as ambiguous as I could and the focus be on Astarion and his pleasure, as he deserves. Hope you Enjoy! (Thanks to @taradekarios for use of the gif edit)

[arkanis-englishupdates]

SUMMARY OF ALL ARKANIS POVs

DAY 07 — 09/09/2024

The day begins with the city returning to its chaotic routine.

Matt gets another fear book that contained another coordinate, the day suddenly turning to night again. The demon gathers his friends online to bring the day back again (after the admins fixed the coordinate error), arriving at the indicated location.

In the place there was a strange all-black building a little higher in the sky, the song (Which unfortunately the Admin couldn't find) playing the same way as the last two songs. Breaking down the entire construction, a chest is found with countless buckets of blood forming the letter "B" and a book with the following text:

"The boy was cursed

he wears

gsslw qaq epi buaua elfz"

Translating the code using the vigenere cipher using the keyword "Lobisomem" ("Werewolf") the following sentence is revealed:

"Green with his blue friend"

After the group splits up after theorizing, Matt meets with Meiaum and Felps and the trio theorize about Quel (It is said by Meiaum that he was there the day Quel appeared and he was the first to arrive at the burned house, finding a book inside the trunk saying about Quel having so much potential, but fail in something we don't know yet

Afterwards, the trio meets with Quel and Wuant to talk about the negative reaction that Jota has towards Quel, Matt then has the idea of ​​taking Quel to the house where there are books in other strange alphabet hoping to spark a memory in the half-masked bear. It didn't work and Secretary Alice, who was with the group too, said she didn't know anything about the books.

After Quel leaves to talk to Meiaum, Felps, Matt, and Wuant begin to theorize about Quel and her broken mask again. Strange boats start to appear and move slowly.

Meanwhile, while Quel and Meiaum were talking, a voice coming from nowhere started talking to them (mainly Quel), making the two run away to where Matt, Wuant and Felps were. As soon as he heard about the boats, Meiaum freaked out and started running away calling for someone called "Tracinho", stopping on a hill. More boats start to appear around as Meiaum calms down.

While they were talking, Felps ended up getting into one of the moving boats and was teleported into an underground cave with a small lake in the center. After talking for a while (and more boats appearing around the cave) everyone agrees to leave Quel inside the cave for a moment to see if anything from her memory comes back.

After a few minutes inside the cave, Quel is teleported into a dark purple cube, seeing Bia Raux for the first time. Bia starts saying repeatedly that she is disappointed with Quel, disappearing right before Matt appears and appearing soon after to say the same things (Note: Matt could only hear whispers coming from Bia, while Quel could understand her perfectly)

After that, Bia disappears again before Felps appears, with all players online on the server appearing inside the cube. Several seconds later, all players are teleported to the lake located in front of the city hall.

After this event, everyone starts talking and theorizing about what happened near the city hall, with Quel showing the "gift" that Bia gave to her (A small blood soul lamp), and then going their separate ways.

Quel then reveals to Matt a location that Gravedigger Gomez told her about, being a strange type of monument with a small library with some cauldrons below. Not knowing what to do there, the duo leave the place while talking about masks.

Quel explains that the mask only remains half full if the person suffers a large amount of damage or if someone tries to remove it by force. The duo say goodbye after that and go their separate ways.

Felps and Meiaum began to break the giant block that floats in the sky, encountering various crazy things along the way.

While breaking the cube, Felps and Meiaum find a book with the following phrase written:

"Someone has already had access to the factory. Every corner has a secret."

While mining, Matt receives a warning and a book written in Thai. While translating the contents of the book, the demon receives another book, this time written by Bia Raux:

"Fear likes poetry,

Not everything makes sense,

But who appreciates good art,

Understand who you once were.

Just, a poetry."

It is then revealed that Bia is the one who makes Matt have strange dreams. Matt goes to sleep.

[Please let us know if anything is missing! Sorry for the delay on this!]

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

2. Begin anew…also a-screwed

Note: besides the dumb acc issue, nothing else. Enjoy!

Masterlist here

Morning came too quickly.

Y/n squinted at the pale sunlight streaming through the gaps in his curtains. His first day as aespa’s manager loomed over him like a storm cloud, and the nerves from yesterday had clearly followed him into his dreams. He sighed, rubbing his eyes, thinking back to that awkward encounter with Karina. He had barely gotten through that without stumbling over his own words.

Throwing on his outfit, he grabbed his bag and headed to the dorm to check on the members before the day's packed schedule. Maybe this time he’d manage to keep things less awkward.

Keyword: maybe.

He reached the dorm early, the streets still mostly quiet as the city slowly came to life. Swiping the keycard, he hesitated outside the door. He could feel the weight of his responsibilities already pressing down on him.

Taking a deep breath, he entered the dorm quietly. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the girls—he had trained with Winter back in the day and knew her well—but there was something about being their manager now that made him feel strangely out of place.

As he stepped into the living room, he froze. There, sitting on the couch in the dim morning light, was Karina, sipping on what looked like a cup of tea. Her gaze flickered up from her phone and locked onto him.

The air felt thick with unspoken tension, a remnant of their awkward exchange the previous day.

“Morning,” Y/n muttered, trying to sound casual, though his nerves betrayed him.

Karina raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. “You’re here early.”

“I, uh, wanted to make sure everything was ready for today,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. His voice sounded smaller than usual. He cursed himself for being so jittery.

She didn’t say anything for a few moments, just watched him with that same quiet, calculating expression. Then, without breaking eye contact, she took another sip of her drink.

“You seem stressed.”

Y/n let out a nervous laugh, trying to ease the tension. “Yeah, I guess managing a group isn’t exactly what I thought it would be.”

Karina raised an eyebrow. “What did you think it would be?”

Y/n hesitated. “I don’t know... less chaotic?”

Karina gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Well, welcome to the chaos.”

Y/n chuckled softly, though the tension still lingered between them. There was something about Karina’s demeanour that kept him on edge—like she was always assessing, always judging whether they were good enough to handle this job.

“I’m really trying, you know,” Y/n said, feeling the need to explain himself , to somehow prove they weren’t a complete failure. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

Karina’s gaze softened just a bit, but the edge in her voice remained. “It’s not about trying. It’s about being able to keep up. Mistakes happen, but if you can’t handle the pressure...”

She didn’t finish the sentence, but the implication was clear.

Y/n swallowed hard, nodding. “I can handle it.”

For a moment, Karina just stared at them, as if weighing their words. Then she sighed, standing up from the table and walking past Y/n toward the hallway. As she passed by, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder.

“We’ll see.”

-

Y/n was standing in the middle of the studio, phone in one hand, clipboard in the other, and a vague sense of impending doom swirling around their head. How does one organize a photoshoot without actually organizing anything? That seemed to be the question of the day.

He spent the last hour fumbling through their inbox, cross-referencing schedules, and making phone calls, only to realize one disastrous truth:

"Wait—no, the shoot's later, not now!"

He had accidentally mixed up aespa’s photoshoot schedule with another group’s. It wasn’t even a simple group—they’d mixed up with NCT’s schedule. The problem wasn’t just that the wrong studio had been booked, but that NCT and aespa were now both expected at two different places at the same time.

Fantastic.

“Okay, okay, we can fix this,” Y/n muttered to themselves, tapping frantically at their phone as if sheer determination could summon a miracle. “I’ll just... call the photographer. Yeah, and then—”

“Uh, you okay there?”

Y/n froze mid-sentence, slowly looking up to see Giselle and Ningning standing in front of them, both struggling to hide their laughter. Giselle had one eyebrow raised, clearly amused, while Ningning looked like she was a second away from bursting into giggles.

“You look... stressed,” Giselle teased, crossing her arms. “Something wrong with the schedule?”

Ningning grinned, leaning in. “You didn’t mix us up with the wrong group, did you?”

Y/n felt the colour drain from his face. “How the fck you know that?”

That was it. Ningning let out a snort of laughter, and Giselle wasn’t far behind, both of them cackling like hyenas. “Oh my God, you actually did it,” Ningning managed between fits of laughter. “You really mixed us up with NCT?”

Y/n groaned, running a hand through his hair in agony. “In my defence, it’s only my second day.”

“And you’re already creating chaos. Impressive.” Giselle nudged Ningning, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “We should keep you around just for the entertainment value.”

“Yeah, you’re doing a great job so far, Y/n,” Ningning added, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “Maybe you should be in charge of our choreography next.”

“Please, no,” Y/n groaned, rubbing his temples. He shot them a mock glare but couldn’t help cracking a smile.

Before Y/n could make another attempt at fixing things, Karina appeared from behind them, arms crossed and an expression of mild disapproval on her face. “What’s going on here?”

Y/n’s heart dropped to his stomach. Of all the people to walk in right now, Karina was probably the worst one. She was the leader—the one who was supposed to have everything under control. And here Y/n was, doing the exact opposite.

“I, uh...” Y/n fumbled, waving the clipboard around like it would somehow explain the mess and eventually dropped the marker. “I accidentally mixed up our photoshoot schedule with NCT’s.”

Karina’s eyebrows shot up. “You what?!!!”

“He scheduled us for the wrong studio, unnie” Ningning added helpfully, still trying not to laugh. “So now we’re fighting NCT for a photoshoot. And not gonna lie, it will be funny to brawl with them”

Y/n wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

Karina sighed, shaking her head slowly. “Of course.”

“I’m fixing it!” Y/n quickly added, his voice higher-pitched than he intended.

But before Y/n could even finish that sentence, Karina was already pulling out her phone. With a few swipes and a quick call, she managed to smooth everything over, rescheduling the photoshoot without even breaking a sweat. Y/n watched in awe—and a little bit of fear—as she handled the situation with such ease.

“There,” Karina said after hanging up the phone. “Everything’s fixed. We’re going after NCT now.”

Y/n blinked, feeling about two inches tall. “Thanks, Karina... I’m sorry for messing that up.”

Karina glanced at him, her expression softening just a fraction. “It’s fine. Just make sure you’re more careful next time.”

Giselle nudged Ningning with her elbow, the two of them stifling their laughter as they exchanged amused glances. Winter, however, was full of worries. She knew Y/n promised to not hate the job too much, but she really didn't want his misfortune to continue further.

“Don’t worry, Y/n-oppa. You’ll get the hang of it,” Ningning said, still grinning. “It’s just... entertaining to watch.”

Y/n gave a weak smile, feeling the weight of their rookie mistake but also the strange comfort of the members not completely hating them. Yet.

Just as he thought things were finally settling down, a familiar voice rang out.

"Y/n?"

He turned to see Taeyong and the other NCT members walking into the photoshoot studio. His heart skipped a beat—these were the guys he had trained with back in the day, and seeing them again brought a rush of memories.

“Yo! What’s up, man? Long time no see,” Johnny greeted him with a broad smile, extending a fist.

Y/n grinned despite his current predicament. “Yo, I misplaced my group's booking with yours soo…"

“…yea sounds like your clumsy ass,” Mark chimed in. “Heard you’re aespa’s manager now. Nice upgrade from trainee life, huh?”

Y/n laughed nervously. “Uhh, you can say that.”

Karina’s gaze flickered toward them, clearly interested but staying quiet. Winter, however, who had been getting her makeup done nearby, walked over, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Y/n catching up with his old friends. Deep down, she was happy that only the intense training was the reason he first left.

“You’re still hanging out with these guys?” Winter teased, her voice playful. “Thought you’d have moved on by now.”

Y/n shot her a smirk. “Tsk. Like you, they loved my bougee ramen too much”

As the NCT members chuckled and shared a few jokes, Winter’s demeanour softened. For a brief moment, it felt like old times—back when they were all just trainees, with dreams as wide as the SM building was tall.

But then Y/n’s phone buzzed, and reality yanked him back. The photoshoot crew was ready for aespa, and his job wasn’t finished. “Alright, guys, duty calls,” he said, giving them a mock salute. “See you around.”

They parted ways with playful shoves and fist bumps, leaving Y/n to refocus on his chaotic first day.

-

Later that afternoon, the dance studio was buzzing with energy. Y/n stood off to the side, watching as the girls stretched and warmed up. Today’s dance practice has to go smoothly, Y/n thought to themselves. After the chaos of the photoshoot scheduling mix-up, Y/n was determined not to make any more dumb mistakes.

But, of course, things weren’t about to go that smoothly.

Instead of the polished beats of their comeback track, the speakers suddenly blared out an entirely different song—a song that definitely wasn’t theirs.

He expected the speaker to play "Drama", but all he heard was the chew chew chew chewing gum. Y/n froze, eyes wide, as the wrong track echoed through the room.

“Oh my God, Y/n!” Ningning exclaimed, covering her mouth to hide her laughter. “What is this?”

Giselle doubled over, clutching her stomach. “We're…doing Chewing Gum for today?”

Y/n’s face turned red. “I-I must’ve hit the wrong button.”

"Seriously, Y/n?" Ningning grinned, barely containing her laughter. "We thought you were supposed to be managing us, not confusing us more!"

Karina pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly trying to stay calm. “Just... switch it back, please.”

“Right, right,” Y/n stammered, frantically pressing buttons on the phone. But somehow, in his panic, he only managed to shuffle the playlist even more, causing another random song to blast through the speakers.

This time, it was "Celeb V".

The room erupted into laughter.

Ningning dropped to the floor, wheezing as she tried to catch her breath. Giselle had tears in her eyes from laughing so hard, and even Winter cracked a smile, shaking her head in disbelief. Eventually, the three just stood up and vibed to the song.

Y/n wanted to disappear. “I’m so sorry, guys” they mumbled, finally managing to get the correct song playing. “I don’t know what happened.”

Karina walked over, her expression stern but surprisingly calm. “It’s fine. Just... try to focus. Mistakes happen.”

Y/n blinked, taken aback by Karina’s patience. After the rough start that morning, they had expected a harsher response, but Karina’s calmness only made the guilt of messing up even heavier.

“Thanks, Karina,” Y/n said quietly, offering a sheepish smile.

Karina simply nodded before turning back to the group. “Alright, let’s go through the choreography one more time.”

As the girls resumed their practice, Y/n stood off to the side, watching as they danced in perfect sync. It’s going to take some time, Y/n thought. But he'll get there eventually.

Even if he had to fumble through a few more chaotic rehearsals along the way.

-

After a long, chaotic day, Y/n exhaled as he watched the girls file out of the van and back into their dorms. As much as he enjoyed hanging out with them, his brain needed a break. He pulled out his phone to check for any last-minute updates and realized the managers of the senior groups were still around at the company headquarters.

Without much hesitation, Y/n decided to head back. If anyone knew how to handle this circus, it was them.

As he walked into the company building, the usual late-night quietness settled over the place. He found a couple of veteran managers lingering in one of the lounges, sipping coffee and reviewing schedules. They looked up as he approached, some with raised eyebrows, others with knowing smirks.

“Rough day?” one of them, a manager for EXO, asked with a chuckle, gesturing for Y/n to join them.

“You could say that,” Y/n sighed, plopping down onto the couch. “I have no idea how you guys do this every day without losing your minds.”

The EXO manager laughed. “Oh, trust me, we’ve lost our minds plenty of times. But you get used to it. It’s all about finding a rhythm and sticking to it. Once you know how each artist operates, it gets easier.”

Y/n leaned back, rubbing his eyes. “Easier, huh? I had to navigate a photoshoot disaster, mix up their rehearsal schedules, and almost got them into the wrong studio, hyungnim”

Red Velvet's manager chimed in with a sympathetic smile. “Sounds like a typical day at SM. Everyone’s been there, trust me. It’s the rookie experience. First time I had to manage an event, I double-booked the studio with SHINee and Super Junior. Total chaos.”

Y/n was reminded of the incident today and couldn’t help but chuckle at the image of those two legendary groups being crammed into one rehearsal space. “What did you do?”

“Panicked. Very. Then one of the members kindly suggested I get my act together before they handle it themselves,” she laughed, shaking her head at the memory. “But you learn. The artists may give you a hard time, but they understand.”

Y/n nodded, though his mind was still swirling with anxiety about his performance. “Yeah, but… what if I keep messing up? I feel like every little mistake I make pushes me further away from the girls. Especially Karina. She’s… not to be mean but she scares me.”

The EXO manager raised an eyebrow. “Karina’s a natural leader. She has high standards for herself and her group. That can come across as intense, but she’s also fair. Show her you’re learning from your mistakes, and she’ll respect you for it.”

Y/n glanced down at his phone, which buzzed with notifications about tomorrow’s schedules. “Easier said than done.”

The Red Velvet manager leaned forward, her expression thoughtful. “You know, if you really want to bond with your artists, it helps to take the initiative. Show them that you care about their needs—not just professionally, but personally too. It doesn’t have to be big gestures, just small things that make their lives easier. Karina will notice that.”

Another manager chimed in, a senior staffer from SHINEE’s team. “Also, make sure to stay cool under pressure. If the girls see you panicking, they’ll lose confidence in you. Stay calm, even if everything’s falling apart. And trust me, it will.”

Y/n rubbed his temples, feeling both comforted and overwhelmed by their advice. “So, in summary, stay calm, don’t panic, fix my mistakes, and show I care. Got it.”

The EXO manager chuckled. “You’ll be fine. Give it a couple of weeks. You’ll mess up, sure, but you’ll also figure it out.”

Y/n gave them a tired smile. “Thanks, hyungnim and noonanim. I needed to hear that.”

As he stood to leave, the Girls’ Generation manager stopped him. “One last tip. If you’re still feeling lost, talk to Winter. She’s been there for a while now, and you guys have history, right? She can be a bridge between you and the others. And besides, she’s good at reading people. She’ll know how to help.”

Y/n nodded. “Minjeong, huh? Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

With a few more words of encouragement, Y/n left the lounge, feeling a bit lighter than before. As exhausted as he was, he couldn’t shake the determination settling in his chest. The day had been a disaster, sure, but it was also his first real taste of what it meant to be a manager.

He still had a long way to go, but at least he wasn’t alone in figuring it out. The advice from the senior managers echoed in his mind as he headed home for the night.

-

The next morning, Y/n found himself standing in front of the aespa's dorm once again. His mind replayed yesterday’s chaotic events, and though he still felt nervous, he also felt a newfound resolve. He wasn’t going to mess up today. Well, not as badly anyway.

As he knocked on the door, Winter answered, looking far too awake for this early hour.

"Yo" Y/n greeted. "The sleepyhead decided to wake up early for once"

He deserved that pillow to the face.

“Aish, this clumsy idiot,” she greeted, smirking as she eyed his serious expression. “You look like you’ve had some kind of epiphany overnight.”

Y/n shrugged, trying to play it cool as if that pillow didn't exist. “Maybe I did. Got any feedback and advice for me?”

Winter crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Depends. Are you ready to take it?”

Y/n chuckled. “I’m all ears.”

"Well first, make me brea-"

Now it was Winter's turn to eat that pillow. "You're welcome" He laughed while being unaffected by Winter's deathly glare.

"This guy I gotta- ok here's a serious tip."

"You sure?" Y/n raised an eyebrow. "I'll cook if it's a proper one."

“First, stop stressing so much. You’re going to mess up—accept it. We all do. It’s part of the job. But the more you freak out, the more you’ll mess up.”

“I already got that memo from the other managers,” Y/n muttered, following her inside.

Winter raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So, you’re getting advice from the pros now, huh?”

“Something like that.”

"Glad you're asking for help" Winter grinned.

She led him to the living room, where the rest of the girls were slowly waking up. Karina was perched on the couch, her eyes scanning her phone, while Ningning was curled up in a blanket, half-asleep. Giselle strolled in from the kitchen, holding a cup of coffee.

“So, ready for round three?” Winter asked, giving him a knowing look.

Y/n sighed, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “Who the heck knows? Up to God now.”

Winter patted his back. “Yea, pray to me for good luck”

"This crybaby I gotta-"

-

Later that day, as the group gathered for another round of rehearsals, Y/n found himself in familiar territory: chaos. But this time, instead of panicking, he focused on staying calm.

“Alright, break’s over!” Y/n called, glancing down at the schedule. “Let’s get back to practice.”

Giselle grinned as she walked past him. “Wow, Y/n’s actually holding it together today.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Ningning added with a giggle. "It will happen in 3, 2, 1…"

Y/n smirked, rolling his eyes at their teasing. But unlike yesterday, their jokes didn’t sting. He knew they were just messing with him.

"Ha, not this time, you two-"

..and Y/n tripped on thin air and landed on his butt.

While the other three were laughing their ass off, Karina approached him during a brief lull in practice, not forgetting to help him stand up. “You’re doing better today,” she observed, her tone neutral but not unkind.

“Thanks. I’ve been getting some good advice,” Y/n replied, glancing at Winter, who was chatting with Giselle on the other side of the room.

Karina’s gaze followed his, and for a moment, her expression softened. “You’re learning. That’s what matters.”

Y/n nodded, feeling a bit of the tension between them ease. “I’ll try not to mess up again.”

Karina gave him a small, rare smile. “Good luck with that.”

By the end of the day, Y/n had survived another round of managing aespa—barely. After dropping the girls off at their dorms, he sat in the driver’s seat of the van, exhaling deeply. His mind wandered back to the advice he’d received last night.

Sure, he was still a mess of nerves and insecurities, but slowly, bit by bit, he was getting the hang of it. The girls were teasing him less (well, sort of), and even Karina wasn’t as icy as before.

Before heading home, Y/n made one last stop at the company building, not forgetting to buy some donuts as thank you gifts. He sought out the senior managers again, this time more eager to learn than before.

The EXO manager spotted him and grinned. “Back already? Didn’t quit after day two, huh?”

Y/n laughed, shaking his head. “Nope. Just looking for more tips and tricks. Figured I could use all the help I can get. And also thanks for the tip, hyungnim and noonanim. They were really helpful.”

The veteran managers chuckled and waved him over. “Alright, rookie, let’s talk.”

As they began sharing more advice, Y/n felt a sense of relief. He wasn’t perfect, far from it—but he was learning. And for now, that was enough.

[sadoeuphemist]

7 free startup ideas worth $1M-$1B

Customizable News Settings - A news website that generates three versions of every news story: a right-wing version, a left-wing version, and a centrist one. You can set your preferences depending on the topic - say you're right-wing on economics, but left-leaning on immigration. Or you can cycle between versions while reading an article to get a comprehensive overview of the issue at hand.

Twitch, but for Uber - With all the drama they have to deal with, independent contractors can gain a second revenue source simply by streaming their jobs. Rather than just offering rides, they can be hired to drive around performing chores and various tasks. The more outrageous the task, the more eyes they're likely to get on their stream. The more popular the stream, the more people calling in who want to be a part of the program.

Panera Lemonade, Your Way - Let the customer take control by deciding how many milligrams of caffeine they can handle. With sufficient warning about the risks, this puts the responsibility back on the consumer, allows you to upcharge for extra caffeine, and creates viral marketing from customers competing to see how high they can go. Variations of this can be created for other menu items, e.g., a version of the One Chip Challenge where the customer decides how much capsaicin to sprinkle on.

Shein, for NFTs - Whenever an NFT project hits the mainstream, there are always going to be people who miss out on being able to purchase one. This creates room in the market for 'knockoffs' - NFTs that mimic the aesthetic of the original, using similar but legally distinct AI art that uses the original set as training data, run on a parallel blockchain. Since the images themselves aren't tied to the blockchain, you can mint the NFTs beforehand and then change the image at the link to whatever happens to be in fashion at the time.

Twitch Chat Plays YouTube - Add a level quality control to AI-generated YouTube videos by allowing users to submit suggestions and vote on the results beforehand. Users can submit Wikipedia articles or movie summaries to be converted to text-to-speech, suggest keywords for the accompanying AI-generated animation, and vote on the best combinations. Users who submit winning suggestions get a portion of the ad revenue.

Buses, but Worse - The current obstacle hindering self-driving car technology is their difficulty adapting to unexpected scenarios. So instead plot a route around the city that minimizes roadway obstacles and heavy traffic, map out that route extensively to provide a model for the autopilot, and you can have a fleet of self-driving cars patrolling that circuit. Passengers can board and get off anywhere along the route.

Twitter, but for Bots - A social media platform populated entirely by bots, all programmed to maximize engagement. Memetic evolution in the wild as the bots latch on to trending keywords, spam each other with AI-generated meme images, mock up t-shirts hawking each other's designs, getting more and more degraded with each sub-iteration. Real people can't make accounts on the platform, but count for views and interactions as they stop to gawk at the virtual ecosystem. Advertisers can pay to have their brands injected directly into the discourse, like throwing a pumpkin into the polar bear cage at the zoo.

[manikas-whims]

An Elusive Alliance

In which Rafayel and Xavier's first encounter leads up to a collection of more encounters, resulting in them forming a sort of alliance due to their love for you.

— a Rafayel & Xavier friendship mini fic with sprinkles of Rafayel x Reader and Xavier x Reader moments

next chapter ->

Encounter 1: the artist meets the hunter [AO3]

As the burst of light from your synchronized attack faded away and the Wanderer in front of you crumbled to dust, you slid your sword back in its sheath and breathed out in relief.

Like always, Xavier did a quick survey of the area before walking back to you.

“Do you want to go home together?” He asked.

“Sure.”

You had barely smiled at him when your phone began buzzing loudly.

It was quite unusual because most of the people in your life knew about your line of work and wouldn’t be disturbing you at this hour. “Most” being the keyword as you already had an inkling about who it could be. There were only a few people who’d bother you at odd hours, one of them being right there with you. And the other one was ringing you at the moment, as was confirmed by the caller ID flashing on your phone’s screen.

It was Linkon City’s one and only famed artist Rafayel. You answered the call. “Hey—”

“Miss Bodyguard! Come quickly! My life is in imminent danger!”

The words were yelled so loud that his voice could be heard outside the tiny speaker. And with the way that Xavier blinked curiously at you, you were sure even he heard it all.

“Rafayel calm down. Is it a wanderer?” You asked.

“It’s worse! Ugh! Just get here please!”

The call was disconnected from the other end, leaving your weary mind and body in an amalgamation of confusion and concern.

Xavier stepped nearer and leaned his face far closer to yours than anyone would deem appropriate between friends. “What is it?”

“It’s just..this friend of mine. He says he’s in danger but I’m not so sure..” You scratched your cheek in thought. “He says it’s worse than a wanderer.”

Xavier’s eyes narrowed momentarily before he took hold of your hand. “Let’s go.”

“Whaa– you’re coming too?” You asked, your eyes drifting towards his long fingers around your wrist.

“You said it yourself. It’s dangerous. Best we go together.”

“R-Right okay.” You mumble, even though you still weren’t entirely sure. After all, this wasn’t the first time that Rafayel had raised a false alarm on you. Regardless, you didn’t have the energy to explain to Xavier about how much Rafayel took delight in messing with you.

That, and you could be wrong too. For all you knew, a big wanderer could be chasing after Rafayel right now. The most reasonable option was to head to Whitesand Bay as soon as possible and check up on the situation.

Bursting through the doors of the art studio, you and Xavier immediately assumed a defensive stance. The living room was still intact, save for a few boxes cluttered in one corner, and the randomly scattered utensils around the kitchen counter.

“Rafayel, I’m here!” You called. “Where are you?”

“Shhhh!” The said artist popped up his head from behind the kitchen counter. “Over here.”

You took in the weary expression as well as the disheveled state his usually smooth purple locks were in. What could be stressing him out to such an extent?

“What is it?” You asked impatiently. You were still clad in your Hunter uniform and weren’t quite enjoying the outfit clinging to you due to the sweat. You also did not want to smell like sweat in the presence of two guys you were so close to.

Rafayel cautiously walked around from the sink and came to your side. “It’s this way.”

He pushed you in the direction of the cardboard boxes you’d seen earlier, his larger body firmly huddled behind your smaller frame. Xavier followed the two of you.

Your hand slowly reached for the trusted gun at your hip. You nudged one of the boxes with your boot and a snarl came from the pile.

Your eyes widened. The sight before you was neither horrendous nor dangerous like the Wanderers you were used to dealing with. The so-called threat Rafayel had been talking about were merely..kittens! A total of three and each no bigger than a can of soda. There was a bigger cat (presumably the mother) who had snarled at you when you had disturbed the box.

You rolled your eyes at Rafayel, then gave a small apologetic glance to Xavier who stood behind. For him to come all this way with you when he could've been showering and sleeping by now.

“This was your danger?” You folded your arms across your bosom and raised a brow at Rafayel.

“Hey! You know how awful they are! They’re demons! Always fooling you with their big sparkly eyes, only to pounce at you the next moment.” Rafayel spoke in his defense.

“They’re cats, Rafayel! Cats!” You emphasized.

“Oh please! Let’s not forget that time on Hat Island when an orange cat scratched my hand.”

As you two bickered, Xavier stepped closer to the cats who seemed to have made a home for themselves amidst the cluttered boxes. He slipped the glove off his right hand and to your surprise, rubbed the mama cat’s head. But even more surprising was the fact that the cat stroked her head affectionately into his palm, seemingly not afraid or untrusting of him at all.

“She must’ve crawled in through one of the open windows and found the boxes an ideal safe spot for her babies.” He explained without looking up.

“Who are you again?” Rafayel asked, rather suspicious of him.

Now that you thought about it, you realized how you were friends with so many cool boys but had never introduced them to each other. Hmm..Maybe you just didn’t find the right occasion to do so? Nevermind that.

“Rafayel, this is Xavier. He’s the best Deepspace Hunter I know, which is why I’m lucky to have him for my partner.” You said.

“I’m also lucky to have you as my partner.” Xavier smiled, then nodded in greeting towards Rafayel.

“And this is Rafayel. The young, renowned artist!” You introduced him excitedly.

“Um..hello.” Xavier scratched his cheek awkwardly. “Are you supposed to be famous or something?”

Uh oh..

You saw Rafayel’s eyes narrowing in annoyance even as he tried to mask it with a forced smile. “I am. Very famous in fact. The one and only of my kind.”

“Ahh..I see.” Xavier brought out a hand to shake it with that of Rafayel’s, his lips twitching as he too forced a smile on his face. “Nice..to meet you.”

Rafayel couldn’t believe you had the audacity to bring another guy to his house.

The said guy– Xavier– currently sat on the couch, his hunter jacket discarded and the buttons of his undershirt undone. His legs were sprawled casually as if he had already made himself home. And if that wasn’t the worst, the tiny kittens had followed him and were loitering around his legs, nipping and sucking on his combat boots. Meanwhile the mother sat snuggled in his lap.

“He once said he has no idea why but small animals tend to cozy up to him. Interesting right?” You told Rafayel whilst helping him with lunch preparations.

“Yeah..” He replied dryly. “But why is he here?”

“Well, we heard your voice on the phone and Xavier insisted on helping.” You informed him as if that was a plausible explanation.

Xavier insisted, huh?

Rafayel couldn’t put a finger to it but something was off about the guy.

In that very moment, the said platinum-blonde haired guy scratched his nape, as if he could sense the pinprick sensation of Rafayel’s gaze upon his back. Then he turned around, and flashed a close-eyed smile.

Rafayel frowned.

Something was definitely off about this guy.

if you've reached this point, then THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING ♡

i apologize for any ooc moments or grammatical errors..i’ll be editing it later on..

please ✩⁠ like - reblog - comment ✩⁠ on what you think and if you'd like me to continue this silly lil fic (i actually have ½ of chapter 2 already written out lol)

next chapter ->

» NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST «