#for some reason my phone is missing like half the hand gestures and all of the skintones in my keyboard and some other stuff

[mexicangrizzlyappreciation]

Image description: the above image edited to read "Shout out to Gene Wilder fr🤞🏾gotta be my favorite gene." End image description.

[beth20light]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮

Jacob black x Reader

A/N: Hello! Right now i’m really obsessed with jacob black x reader fics but i cant seem to find something that i liked :( Soo i decided to write mine. Its gonna be 2 or 3 chapters im not sure yet and english is not my first language please excuse my mistakes .Anyway i hope you guys like it 🥰

Note: In this world there is no bella. So not any love triangles. There are vampires but just mentioned briefly. And both of you are above 18.

Summary: Your dad, Charlie, and Billy were on a fishing trip, and somehow you and Jacob ended up tagging along. When it was time to head back, everyone paired off, and you ended up with Jacob. Now, the two of you were already on the road in Billy’s old truck, heading back to Forks.

The car ride was quiet since both of you were tired from the fishing weekend with your dads. You just wanted to go home and sleep in your bed. While thinking about your cozy bed, you glanced at Jacob. He was focused on the road, not wanting to hit a deer or something in the middle of the night. Jacob had been your friend since your family moved to Forks when you were 12. Billy and your dad were friends, so it wasn’t surprising that you and Jacob became friends too. He was a good friend, but you and he had drifted apart for a couple of months. He’d been acting strange—cutting his hair, changing his look, hanging out with Sam, who he hated the most, and putting distance between the two of you for reasons you didn’t understand.

Somehow, you both ended up on this trip together. Instead of asking why he’d been distant, you decided to let it slide and act like nothing had happened. Only small gestures giving something that he needs etc. dull thanks and you are welcomes. Pf course your dad understand that there is something happened between you two. So maybe the reason that your dad wanted you to go with Jacob rather then himself. But now, with just the two of you alone, the mood felt more awkward then the fishing trip.

“Is there something on my face?” Jacob asked, lifting his lips slightly.

“What? No,” you said, caught off guard.

“ You’ve been staring at me for a couple minutes you know” He smirked.

You hadn’t realized you were staring at him, lost in thought about what had happened between you two.

“I was just looking at your new look. New hair, biggest biceps ever, and all. You’ve changed a lot. I do like your new look, but I miss the long hair,” you said with a half smile.

He gave a small, bittersweet smile. “Well, some things had to change. Nothing stays the same.”

The silence between you lingered after Jacob's quiet words. You turned your attention back to the road, focusing on the dark stretch ahead as you got lost in your thoughts again. You still couldn’t find a reason for why Jacob was acting this way, and it made you sad. His refusal to share anything with you only deepened your disappointment. It was as if the two of you had never been best friends who shared everything.

“What the—” Shaken from your thoughts by Jacob’s words, you looked around. The car was slowing down, and Jacob didn’t look happy. “What’s happening?” you asked with a concerned glance.

“The car is breaking down,” he sighed. “Great.” He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his face with one hand. “Just what we needed.”

You sat up a little straighter, looking out the window at the seemingly endless stretch of dark highway. The woods loomed on either side, the only light coming from the car’s dim headlights and the faint glow of the moon.

“Is it the engine?” you asked, trying to hide the nervousness creeping into your voice.

Jacob shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. Let me check.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, the door creaking as it closed behind him. You watched him walk around to the front, popping the hood and disappearing into the shadows. The night air seeped into the car, cold and unsettling.

You pulled out your phone to see if there was a signal. Of course, there was none. How could it be a signal in the middle of nowhere? As panic started to rise, you hoped it was something fixable.

Jacob reappeared a few minutes later, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Looks like something’s wrong with the radiator. We’re not going anywhere,” he said with a shrug. “Let me call Dad so he can come get us.” He reached for his phone.

“We can’t. There’s no signal,” you sighed nervously, getting out of the car. “ What are we gonna do now ?”

Seeing your nervous, Jacob said, “Hey, relax. Y/N At least you’re not alone.” With his words, you glanced at him. The idea of spending the night stranded on the side of the road with your best friend—who had suddenly put distance between you for some unknown reason—wasn’t how you had imagined ending the weekend.

But it was better than being alone in the middle of the night, you thought.

“I think there are about 20 miles left. We can go on foot,” he said while looking at the empty road.

“Are you serious? You want to walk all that way? It’s nearly five hours of walking.” You looked at him in disbelief; he couldn’t be serious about this. Not to mention the wild animals that could attack at any moment.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I guess we’re stuck here until our dads realize we’re not home yet.”

“I hope they realize soon.” you said while looking at the endless woods beside you.

A wave of cold swept through you, making you shudder. you rubbled my arms without realizing.

“Y/N, you’re going to get cold. Get in the car,” Jacob said, scanning you. You nodded and went back to the car. Inside wasn’t that warm either since the car broke down, but it was better than being outside.

Jacob sat down in the car too. It was time for silence. Everything was worse between you two now; You had to sit with him on this cold night until God knows when. With the car broken down, the inside was getting colder. You realized your fingertips were freezing, so you put them in your pockets.

“Are you cold, Y/N?” Jacob suddenly asked, concern etched on his face. “Why i am asking? Of course, you are.”

“Thanks for the concern, but unless you have a blanket you can give me, I don’t think you can help,” You said with a sly smile. “Wait, aren’t you cold too?” You asked suddenly, looking at him with a confused expression. The cold didn’t seem to bother him.

At your expression, his concerned face shifted, and he smirked. “No, only weak people like you get cold. Not me.”

Ha ha ha, You laughed ironically. “You are a joker now. Keep the comedy to yourself, I’m freezing.” You said, side-eyeing him.

You were warming to each other, making jokes, but the cold wasn’t letting up. You rubbed your arms again to feel some heat.

“Hey, come here,” he said while opening his arms.

You looked at him, confused. “You want to hug me now? How is that going to help?”

“Since I’m the hot one in both ways, I can help you not die from the cold.” He spoke with a cocky tone. “Besides, if I let you die like this, your dad would kill me too.” Without giving you a chance to respond, he gently pulled you to him and wrapped his arms around you. You rested your head and hands on his chest. He was holding you tight, not letting you escape. Then you realized and asked, “Jacob, why are you so hot?”

“What do you mean? I was always hot,” he said sarcastically.

“No, Jacob, why is your body so hot?” You asked, concerned as you tried to look at his face. “Do you have a fever?” You put your hand on his forehead; he was burning. “Why didn’t you tell me? I let you drive all this—” Your words were interrupted by his laughter.

“Ahh, I missed this,” he sighed. You were still looking worriedly at his face. “No, I’m fine. I’m like this all the time, so it’s not a fever.”

“Did you go to a doctor?”

“Yes, I did,” he said while pulling you closer to his chest. “You don’t need to worry. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure ?” You asked again. Didn’t get satisfied with answers “Yes for the billion time I’m fine.” He smiled with this unending questions.

“That’s good, then,” You said, you felt that he nodded.

All this chatting felt like old times. Both of you were joking again; You were worrying over him, and he was assuring you that he was okay. Just like that time when he fell off his bike and acted like nothing happened because he didn’t want you to worry. Those were good times.

You were getting warmer, of course. Jacob was practically an oven. Lost in your thoughts, a small giggle escaped from your mouth.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing, just my thoughts,” you said. He hummed agreeingly. There was silence again. This was the only time you could get alone with him, so you decided to speak.

“Hey, Jacob.”

“Yes, what’s wrong, Y/N?”

“Do you really miss us?” You asked, your head still on his chest, unable to see his reaction to the question.

He didn’t answer immediately. Then he sighed. “Yes, I do miss us. But there are things, Y/N, I can’t—”

You interrupted him. “What things, Jacob? What is it that you can’t tell your best friend?”

He sighed again, but it was different this time. “There are things that can harm you. You don’t understand now, but I’m trying to protect you.”

“You’re protecting me by leaving and hanging out with Sam? I thought you hated him,” You said with a frustrated voice.

“I did hate him, but now I don’t. It doesn’t matter,” he said. “And yes, I’m protecting you by leaving.” His voice grew louder. You didn’t say anything, then his voice softened. “I wish I could tell you what’s happening, but I can’t. I’m sorry. This is the best for you.”

There was little silence again. You still couldn’t understand why he won’t tell. And it was eating you from inside not getting any answers. You felt desperate. The answers were on tip of his lips but he choose not to say anything. Maybe he didn’t trust you enough to say it. This even made you sadder.

“Will it always be this way until the end?” You asked, your voice cracking. It was your last attempt to get him to speak. Being like this forever made your heart feel so heavy with sorrow. You felt like you were going to cry, so you closed your eyes tightly, trying to keep the tears from escaping.

“Y/N I—” he started, but he didn’t finish his sentence.

You didn’t ask anything else, and he said nothing. Your bodies were close, but not your souls. You were scared to open your eyes again face the facts. With the warmth from him, and with your unending thoughts you fell asleep on his chest.

[yazmarina]

super trouper

for hit play, a drabble event.

—"part of a success that never ends, still i'm thinking about you only " (super trouper by abba)

charles leclerc (f1) x afab!reader

warnings/notes: exes to ?, hint of second chance romance

a/n: short and sweet on my return. i hope all the charles girlies and non-girlies like this <3

You really shouldn't be here. You had no reason to turn up at this race weekend, save for the fact that your friend was also going and she urged you to go for her sake.

Right. You're doing this for her. No one else. Certainly not for the hometown hero.

His face is everywhere and so are the eyes that seem to gape at you. People's eyes follow you with curiosity, double takes and soft gasps when they realize who you are.

It takes all your self-control not to roll your eyes under the heat of their stares. Are they not aware that I live literally a bus ride away? I spend half of my time in Monaco, anyway. Why is everyone freaked out that I'm here?

You can already read the gossip headlines in your mind.

"Do you want to grab some lunch first?" Your friend asks, gesturing to the huge hospitality building that overlooked the pitlane.

You nod, wanting nothing more than to be indoors and away from prying eyes. "Sure."

The two of you make your way inside and you're relieved to see that people are sparse here, not a single one of them giving you any mind. You settle in a booth at the very end of the floor, letting your friend have a go first at the buffet of food laid out.

You idle with your phone for a bit, already seeing your inbox count tick upward. You've been here for an hour and it seems as if the whole paddock has already seen you.

You lock your phone in frustration.

You really shouldn't have come. Not when the breakup barely six months ago was shrouded in so much speculation and drama. It's not as if your relationship with Charles exploded into a world-stopping mess. It just slowly but surely crumbled, all the gossip chipping away at the love you once shared. You know all this was part of it—the dedicated pages to scrutinizing you, your looks, your behavior, the news about you and your ex still coming out half a year after you split, the constant barrage of questions about Charles, Charles, always about Charles.

But it was indeed always about Charles.

Even you being here, in Monte Carlo today, was about him.

You promised you'd see him race at home when you were still together. It wasn't your fault the relationship would be that short-lived.

But, still. You promised.

You unlock your phone once more, opening up the message thread you had with Charles. The last text was from him, asking if you'd be in France this week. You never answered back.

'Hi Charles.'

You cringe at the formality but with a deep breath, you continue to type.

'Yes, I'm still here. I'll be watching today with a friend. Wishing you all the luck :)'

-

The grip you had on your seat could have been enough to crush someone's hand.

The wide-screen TV in hospitality flashed the bright red Ferrari of your ex-boyfriend, leading the race, five laps away from victory. A victory at his home race, with his dream team, his people cheering him on.

Your heart hammers against your chest and you feel rigid all over, nerves and anticipation taking ahold of you. Your friend looks over and you meet her eyes, and you know at that moment what she's thinking. She smiles, reaching for your hand, and squeezes.

Regardless of what became of you and Charles, it's hard not to feel as if this was your dream too. All the late nights and missed dates and the pain and scrutiny were for this. For him to achieve this very dream.

You feel tears start to well in your eyes as Charles enters his final lap. The people around you are already jumping out of their seats, egging him on, closer and closer to the chequered flag.

As Charles drives past the finish line, the whole world seems to erupt in cheers but it's all tuned out as your tears start to finally fall. You don't notice the gentle shake of your shoulders as hundreds of emotions crash down on you.

You let your friend pull you into a hug, hiding your tear-streaked face from the world.

The podium celebrations right after didn't help much with your attempt at keeping a casual, level-headed facade. Your nose is stuffy and you haven't stopped crying since the race ended. The slow recognition from the people around you isn't lost on you, either.

But it's hard to care when Charles stands on the top step of the podium, beaming as his national anthem blares. It's more difficult yet, fighting the urge to run to wherever he is just so you could jump into his arms and tell him how proud of him you are, how much you miss him, how much you still love him.

Instead, you turn to your friend, hicupping through your tears as you ask if they can come with you back to the paddock.

-

"You're here."

You smile sheepishly as Charles stops just as he's about to enter the Ferrari motorhome. The calls of his name and murmur from the fans around you tailing him through the paddock are drowned out, your whole body seemingly rooted in place as the familiar green eyes look into yours.

"Yes," you respond plainly, suddenly at a loss for words. Clearing your throat, you step closer and Charles automatically opens his arms for a hug.

"Congratulations, Cha," you say, voice muffled into his shoulder as he pulls you against his chest.

"Thank you." Charles beams at you as he pulls away. The smell of champagne is still strong on him but you pay it no mind, wanting nothing more than for everyone to disappear so you could share even a fraction of a moment with him. Just him.

"Did you cry, mon cœur?" Charles asks, looking at you closely. Your jaw drops open at his use of your old pet name and he, too, pauses and blinks as he realizes what he's done.

Charles laughs, a hint of nervousness in his voice, and you can't help but giggle along. It's awkward and it's not ideal, but being this close to him brings a certain ache in your heart, more sweet than painful.

"I'll see you later, okay?" Charles declares, gently taking hold of your arm. "Promise. I'll see you."

You nod, smiling up at him. Tears prickle in your eyes again and you quickly blink them away, mortified at what everyone would think about you crying in front of your ex after his home race win.

Charles leans in and delivers a peck on your cheek, quickly rubbing your back before turning to finally enter the motorhome. He gives you one last wave before disappearing behind the glass doors.

[aether-starlight]

You’re the Fish

Pairing: Rafayel x Grumpy!Reader

Warnings: None. Kinda enemies to lovers vibe.

Summary: Rafayel texts you to come over for an emergency. His concept of it is vastly different from yours.

Word count: 700 words.

You didn’t bother to keep the door from slamming in your wake, sprinting into the room to find Rafayel sitting on the floor, brush in hand.

“Do you ever check your phone?” You seethed, brushing a rebellious strand of hair behind your ear.

He didn’t even bother to look at you, enraptured on the canvas before him.

“Not really, but I’ve been known to answer faster to texts starting with ‘baby’ or ‘sweetness’, even.”

“How about pompous prick?”

Rafayel sent you one of those infuriating smiles, unfazed as ever.

“Ooh, someone’s prickly. Rough day at work, Miss Bodyguard?”

“For one: I’m not your bodyguard.” You kneeled by his side and snatched the brush out of his hand. “Second: where exactly is the emergency in this situation?”

Rafayel raised a languid brow.

“Can’t you see?” He gestured at the painting before him, splattered with hues of citrine and turquoise. “It’s a mess.”

It looked like something out of a museum.

Your stare became deadly, words slowly spelled out as you asked: “You made me rush to the outskirts of the city, breaking who knows how many speed limits…for a painting?”

Rafayel’s mirthful gaze withered. Something almost embarrassed crept into his features as his eyes darted between you and the painting.

“Well, I…you see—“

“I thought a Wanderer was kicking your ass!” You exploded.

By that point, he was almost pouting.

“They wouldn’t be kicking my ass, per se.”

You faked solemnity, shaking your head.

“Of course not, maybe just gravely injuring or maiming, nothing too extreme.”

Finally, both of you settled into silence.

He was now looking at his hands, half-mindedly rubbing at the spots of paint coloring his knuckles and the sides of his palms.

Beneath the warm light of the vintage lamp beside the canvas, part of his initial bravado seemed to wane.

The circles beneath the mauve of his eyes became clearer, his hair less of its usual perfect styling.

You sighed, and felt yourself soften. Stress bled out of your body, allowing your shoulders to relax, easing the line at your brow.

“Why am I here, Rafayel? The real reason.”

“Does there have to be a reason?” He asked, petulant as a child.

“Isn’t there always?”

Rafayel brightened, leaning his body closer to yours.

“You see, this reminds me of a story, of a man who was adamant on catching one very specific fish. So obsessed in fact, that when he finally caught it, he had to let it go.“

Your brows furrowed, attempting to stay in the line of his erratic storytelling, all moving hands and vivid intonation.

Rafayel was like that in a way. You soon discovered that your best shot at deciphering how he felt was inside fantasy.

Stories and narratives weren’t just entertainment for him, they were a window to his heart and mind.

The weather would never just be the weather, just like a story was never just a story.

“Am I the fish or the man in this metaphor?”

Rafayel’s gaze was half hidden by long eyelashes.

“Guess. I’d like you to be one, but you’re the other.”

“Maybe I’m none.”

“You are no fun.”

“And you are impractical.”

He huffed out a laugh.

“Whatever you say, Miss Bodyguard.”

You observed him for a second, following the light curve at the corners of his lips, and the tired tilt of his shoulders.

“Rafayel.”

“Hm?”

When his gaze met yours there was something unguarded about it.

“You don’t have to catch me.” You cradled one of his hands in yours, returning the brush to its rightful owner. “Just tell me you want to hang out next time.”

Some of his usual flirty self returned at that.

“We’d be up to no good, I would hope.”

You shook your head, a traitorous smile blooming on your face, and if Rafayel felt his heart stutter at it, he would attribute it to exhaustion.

“You’re incorrigible.”

You gave the painting one last look and had to do a double take.

The once abstract shapes were now connecting into something more, soul peeking out from the impeccable technique.

“Rafayel, is that my face?!”

[anotherfcknschlattsimp]

Kinktober Day 13

blackmail

cw: dubcon on everything, incest

let's go

schlatt -

takes a video of you going down on him in his office

threatens to send it to all the businesses nearby so you cant find another job

he needs you to need this job

there’s no other reason you would hang out with him

“don’t even think about telling anyone or trying to stop me, toots”

if you ever act up, he takes out his phone and gestures that he was gonna send it

shuts you up real fast

has the email ready to be sent (he doesnt but he tells you he does)

has you send him nudes from the company bathroom in the middle of the day

has a stash of your stolen panties in the same safe he keeps pictures of you in

lingerie under dresses for work parties, covered in his cum after a lunch break session, your hole leaking his cum on his desk, that time he made you squirt so hard it ruined some of his paperwork (that's one of his faves)

love love LOVES being reminded that he's kinda sorta Your Boss

fucks you over the copymachine when you're the last two in the office and he didnt have a chance to use you before during the day

WILL send that shit out if you think about quitting though :]

ted -

you're a streamer, yes, but you were a camgirl/boy first

ted's been your biggest fan in both areas but he didnt realize you (streamer) were you (hottest person he's ever seen)

until he comes across a really old video he saved where he got a glimpse of your face

he takes this as a chance to make a move

sends you the video with the caption “come to my place or i'll leak it :)”

you RUN

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

he has a table decked out, white cloth, two flutes of champagne, a rose on top of a file

“oh you wanna know about the file? it's screenshots from your cam days :]” he says innocently

like he's not capable of ruining your life in a couple clicks

“sit, drink!” he exclaims and gestures at the other chair and glass, “i need you nice and tipsy for the rest of my plans~” he mumbles

once he thinks you're sufficiently inebriated he sets his plan in motion

asks you if you're open to a “mutually beneficial pact”

one where he gets to call on you whenever wherever for whatever reason and you dont get your pornos leaked :] win-win!

you, tipsy and not fully understanding the implications, accept

it's a week before ted calls you up and asks you to come to dinner with him

he tells you to dress nicely, it's an upscale place

another week and he asks to go to a movie

innocent things to start

a couple days since the movie he texts you, asking to come to your place

you were expecting another game night or movie or something, just like he had hoped

but he made his intentions clear by pulling down his sweats and boxers to release his length

“you caused this.. been imaginin it was you for years babe~”

he did the stereotypical smack against your cheek

“now you get to take care of it, babe :] it's your fault afterall”

charlie - bro!charlie, im sorry, moistclitikal has ruined my brain /pos

“oh god,, please please please-” you hear charlie sound almost pained from his room

you finally decide to go check it out when you catch your name

you dont bother knocking, this seemed important

you stop in your tracks with the door half open

charlie had his headphones on and was staring at his phone

hand pumping up and down under the covers

it was hot and you had to save it for later that night

so you took out your phone and started recording

he still hasnt noticed

when you're done with your fun and catch a couple slips of your name on the video, you giggle

he snaps his hand away from his device to throw his headphones off

but the sudden motion throws the blanket off his lap, revealing a pretty pink pair of panties wrapped around his cock

*your* panties

that had been missing all week

soaked and soiled but still so recognizably yours

“PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE IT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE” as he scrambles to cover himself again

“oh really? cause it looks like you're being a little perv and jacking off into your big sib's panties :( i even have a video of it! maybe i need to send it to your friends for a second opinion?”

his heart SINKS

rushed “PLEASE DONT ILL DO ANYTHING!! ANYTHING!! PLEASE”

you step further into the room and begin taking off your shorts and panties

he's frozen in shock, so so so confused about what you were doing

you begin taking off your (his) shirt

you can almost hear the awooga going off in his brain as he's stuck staring at your boobs

his eyes follow you as you move to straddle him, pushing the covers off of his bottom half

“o-oh good god- wh-wha-” he stammered out, completely lagged “w-we can't, we're related??”

“oh, so now you dont want this?” you tease as you rub yourself along his length

lets out the cutest and hottest nerd moans ever

you make sure to remind him of the video everytime he starts acting up

and everytime you need a nerd to fuck into next week

[canirove]

Friends, lovers… and an orange | Chapter 12

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

“Are you going to eat all that?” Mason chuckled.

“Yep” Adele said as she sat at the table.

“I still can’t believe you woke up early to go for a run after going out last night. What time was it when we came back?”

“Around 3 a.m.”

“And when did you leave?”

“At 7.”

“Addie, did you sleep?” Mason laughed.

“The moment my head touched the pillow I was out” she shrugged. Which was the biggest lie ever.

She had probably managed to sleep for maybe an hour and a half, and the moment there was light coming through the window, she had gotten up and ready to do the one thing that she knew always allowed her to not think about anything: running. So she put on her shoes, chose her favourite playlist, and left the hotel. 

“Lucky you” he sighed. 

“Didn’t you manage to sleep?”

“I did, but it wasn't pleasant. I kept waking up and… urgh” he groaned, checking his phone.

“What is it?” Adele asked, giving her croissant a big bite.

“My agency. I have a meeting in half an hour with them and they are already bothering me about it.”

“Is that the reason why you didn’t sleep well?”

“Yeah. We are organizing everything for the launch of the perfume's campaign, and it is driving me crazy.”

“Oh, the perfume… The one that started it all.”

“The same one” Mason smiled. Though it was his sad smile, the one Adele knew meant that something was going on. 

“Mase, are you ok?” she asked, reaching for his hand.

“I am, yes. Just tired” he said, his thumb caressing her knuckles, the butterflies on her stomach waking up.

“Are you sure? You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know. Thank you, Addie” he smiled. But again, it wasn’t his usual smile. “Anyway, I better go get ready. It’s a zoom meeting and I want to look a bit more presentable.”

“I like the way you look” she said, speaking before thinking.

“Even if my hair is a mess?” Mason laughed.

“Messy hair is the best hair” she shrugged, not daring to look him in the eyes. “Will I see you later?”

“Of course. I want to take you to El Retiro, maybe go on one of those small boats they have?”

“The walk part sounds perfect. The one about the boats… I don’t know if I trust you” Adele teased him.

“I would never let anything happen to you. Ever” Mason said, the way he was looking at her, giving her the impression that there was something else behind those words. “And I better get going. See you later, Miss Turlington” he smiled, lifting her hand and kissing it. They hadn't stopped holding hands since the moment Adele had reached for his.

“See you later, Mr. Mount" she replied.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Are you going to tell me what is going on?”

“Uh?”

“Mase, you've been acting super weird the whole day. Did something happen during the meeting?” Adele asked him after their walk. 

“No.”

“Then why do look you so…” she said, gesturing with her hands.

“So?”

“Miserable. You look the same you did before your birthday.”

“It’s nothing.”

“There definitely is something. C´mon, talk to me” Adele said, following him as he walked towards his room.

“It’s nothing” he repeated.

“Mase… Mason” she said, grabbing his arm and making him stop. “Talk to me.”

“It’s… Fine” he sighed. “Come inside.”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“I’m ready when you are ready” Adele said, grabbing Mason’s hand and giving it an encouraging squeeze. They had been sitting on his bed in silence for what felt like an eternity, which was only making her feel more and more nervous. What could have happened in that meeting for him to go back to this mood?

“Remember that I told you that the meeting was for the launch of the perfume?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we are going to be throwing a party in Tuscany because that's where we got the inspiration from and where we shot the campaign.”

"I remember your trip there. It was when I was in Paris with my mum.”

“That's the one, yes. This party… this party is gonna be huge, Addie. Big names in fashion will be attending, and also actors, musicians, influencers… Even some football players.”

“That is amazing, isn’t it?”

“It is, yes. But…”

“But?” Adele said, squeezing his hand once again.

“My agency has asked for something. Something related to us.”

“I already told them I will be at the party. What else do they want?”

“Something you aren't going to like, Addie.”

“What do they want, Mason?” she asked.

“They… they want us to walk the red carpet together.”

“No” Adele said, letting go of his hand and standing up. “No, no, no. We agreed I would not walk any red carpet or do anything that involves me having to actually pose in front of a camera.”

“But Addie…”

“I said no. You know how much I hate it.”

“I do. But they are insisting.”

“You mean they are threatening you again. I can’t believe it” she said as she started to pace around the room. “This has to stop, Mason. You can’t keep working with such horrible people.”

“I don’t have another choice.”

“Yes, you do! Sue them and leave them! My dad knows really good lawyers, they could help you.”

“It isn’t that easy” he said, nervously playing with his hands.

“Why not? Whatever those clauses are, I’m sure they will find a way to, I don’t know, annul them? There is this guy I met once in Barcelona who works with football teams and…”

“Adele, no” Mason cut her, also standing up. “Lawyers can’t fix this. And if they can, it will be too late. My career will already be ruined.”

“Because of some clauses on your contract?”

“Because… because… urgh” he said, running a hand through his hair.

“Mase, hey” Adele whispered, caressing his cheek. “You can tell me whatever it is.”

“I can’t. Not this.”

“Why not? Mase, look at me” she said, cupping his face and forcing him to look at her. “Why not?"

“Because if I tell you what they have against me, what they are using to make me do all these things I don’t want to… You won’t be able to look at me the same way. And I can’t lose you, Adele. I can’t” he cried, resting his forehead on hers.

“You won’t lose me, Mason. Whatever it is… I’m not going anywhere. But you have to tell me. You have to let me help you. Because this, keeping this secret, is hurting us both.”

“I know” he sobbed.

“Then tell me. What do they have that is so bad that it could end your career?”

“Addie…”

“Mason, please” she begged him, feeling a tear down her cheek. “Please, tell me what it is. Trust me.”

“Ok…” he sighed. “It’s… They… They have a sex tape.”

[vqrtualheartss]

CCan you do one where miles find out reader is literally obsessed with art and has a room alone for her drawings and paintings one of them being him

ᴅ☆ᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴀʏ|

9:12 pm This is my first request and I love you for it. Anyways, I'm trying to keep this one short and cute because I just realized I cannot make a story short for my life so yea lol.

The like, plot about the senior partner programme is taken from a book I read on wattpad called 'His Tesoro' by sjpwell and I heavily recommend you read it. heavily.

For fem readers, no specific race disclosed

Warnings — idk, bad grammar

In all honesty, deadass, I would've been asleep by now if not risking my hands to ink poisoning or that our teacher was picking the pairs for the annual senior partner programme. You'd basically share classes, be expected to hang out and by the end of the year write a report based on what you learnt about them. There wasn't anyone I was against being paired with but there wasn't anyone I was looking to either, all of them were the same people just different fonts, nothing interesting.

"And lastly we have Miss Valentine and Mr. Morales. Until your new schedules are emailed to you, you are expected to interchange the order of classes starting with the male's in the pair. Happy bonding"

Before I could get up, someone tilted down my phone screen, shifting my attention from it to them, the Mr. Morales— Miles. My nose slowly twitched, as I tried to fight the tug on my lips.

"Hi angel" I sighed, smiling at the nickname. Apparently my last name reminded him of Cupid and because Cupid's somewhat an angel, it makes me one

"Good morning Miles" pushing out my phone gesturing for him to hold it, I gathered my stuff preparing to head to his class. "Formal as always" he shook his head looking down at me with my bag on one shoulder, the other strap swaying freely. I shrugged at his comment, bringing out my hand to retrieve my phone, instead of handing it over, he held onto my hand, intertwining them as he examined the free-styled drawings.

"Talent much? Cool if you could put some on me?" He smiled widely, dangling my phone in his other hand as some type of persuasion. The smile grew evident in my voice, "Alright". I mean, why not, for his half of classes I didn't have to do anything in them so might as well.

"These dopee. Y'know low-key we should get matching ones sometime" . I smiled, "Maybe"

Annoyed at my frequent one word responses he turned around to face me as I slipped from underneath his arm " I hope you're not gonna be like this when I come by later."

Standing infront him with my mouth slightly agape, I questioned, my arms mirroring his crossed ones. "When you do what?"

"How else are we supposed to get to know eachother? And I'm guessing you're eager to kick me out and wrap this up" Narrowing my eyes, I pinched and rubbed my nose bridge.

There weren't many reasons why he couldn't stay over but they held alot of weight, one being my art room and two I'd probably make a fool of myself.

Looking up at him to protest, he swiftly transferred his initialized chain from his neck to mine before walking off and shouting, "Text me the directions and I'll be there" .

I dragged a hand down my face, I was going to send him them but that bitch.

knock knock, the door creaked open as a faint light faltered to the floor

"Miles? If that's you come in" "Woww, now imagine if I was a serial killer" Taking off his jacket, he continued "You would've been dead by now"

I shrugged , eyes never leaving the sketchbook propped on my right knee. He turned around, a dead expression on his face as he dragged the book from my lap "Nah, you gave your word" I most definitely did not

"Okay, fine, my attention's yours and yours only. Happy?" I gave him a tight-lipped smile as he sat on my bed, flipping through the pages "very" .

I remained a neutral expression as if my heart wasn't waiting to jump outside my chest.

Recently he's been the center of attention of my art and obviously I don't need him to see that. My heart rate calmed, his eyebrows furrowing, the pages seemingly went blank "I thought you drew more than this?" "I recently started that sketchbook,"

My expression softened, smiling internally as relief took over my body. However, my mind went as blank as the pages. Where the hell are those drawings then ?.

He hummed, moving from the bed to the office chair. He slid it over beside me before holding onto the chain with a finger of his, bringing me even closer to him.

"This makes it look like you belong to me in some way".

I copied his 'hm' in response despite my stomach flipping on end. He tugged on the chain releasing it. "I swear to god I'm going to make you talk. One way or another" leaning back into the chair manspreading, I smiled while maintaining a scowl. "Ew, you look like a man"

"Oh so now you speak?" He scoffed before continuing "Where's your bathroom" "Straight down, first door on your..." I paused a bit unsure of the direction to tell him ".. right, first door on your right"

He leaned on the door frame, crossing his arms "Don't know your directions by now?" "Get out"

Glancing at the time on my phone a few times, it took me a while to register that Miles was gone for more than 20 minutes "That's weird". Heading outside, I shuffled to the bathroom that he would've went to find it empty. I stood with my hands wrapped around my torso trying to figure his whereabouts. Shit. I went to the one place I hope he wasn't, my art room.

Approaching said room I saw the door slightly ajar, his shadow lingering on the walls. Without a plan I went inside, harshly biting down on my lip to brace myself for future embarrassment.

"You really weren't going to show me this?" I nervously laughed, eyes darting around the room inspecting for any sketches, drawings or paintings with him as the centerpiece. My eyes lingered on a drawing of Miles a little longer than I should've, he sent himself in the direction of my gaze. I shut my eyes, squeezing my fists tighter with each passing second. He took up the sketchbook situated on the desk, twirling through the recent pages before turning.

"Is this me?" His eyebrows drawing nearer as he grinned. I bit harder onto my lip before attempting to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation, even if it was just on my side. "No?"

"Looks an awful lot like me" Placing the book into its original position he folded his arms, sitting infront the desk

"I do not have the mental capacity for this" I sighed, shaking my head. A bead of blood formed on my lips.

Looking up and down my frustration filled body, he replied "Got me on your mind a lot, huh?" Laughing at his own teasing, I used the base off my hands to rub my eyes viciously, an honest attempt to push in my eyeballs.

Morphing into a ball of embarrassment, a smug expression splashed on his face. Hissing my teeth, the colours of his eyes went onyx as he stared. I returned his challenging gaze before he stood up, walking over and standing dangerously close.

Towering over my height, he smirked holding my chin between two fingers. What the fuckk. In that second I felt.. wierd, warm and fuzzy on the inside.

IDK HOW TO END THIS SO I DIDN'T.

©vqrtualheartss 2023 ©dae 2023

[read-write-thrive]

Steve paced the linoleum, sneaker just off white squeaking every time he turned. He was just aware enough to refrain from crinkling the gifts he held in his hands as he glanced again at the clock on the wall, then to the board. DELAYED stared back at him, minutes ticking by without change.

He had no reason to be nervous, not really. He had last seen Robin 11 weeks, 6 days, and roughly 13 hours ago, when he’d seen her off at this very same airport. Hell, he’d talked to her on the phone less than 24 hours ago to reassure her that all the plans were in place to pick her up at the right time and terminal. Two semesters of college hadn’t dulled her anxiety, somehow, but Steve didn’t mind. He’d call her every day if they could, to reassure anxieties or just to shoot the shit. They had tried to, her first semester away, but phone bills and clashing schedules weren’t too kind to them. This semester they’d scheduled calls twice weekly instead, which worked in theory but didn’t stop Steve from missing her terribly. At one point he started scribbling down notes so that he would remember the stories he wanted to tell her on their next call, much to the mockery of almost all of the kids (when he was really bothered by it, he reminded them that he’d gotten the multiple concussions AND stayed in Hawkins for them, which usually shut them up).

The spiral of his thoughts was cut off by a new rush of people coming his way—another arrival at the Indianapolis airport. Steve froze in his tracks, peering past the stream of people to see which gate they’d come from. But before he’d even gotten the chance to register that this was the flight he’d been waiting for, he was bowled over by a flurry of freckled limbs and mismatched green luggage.

“Steeeeve!!!!” Said flurry shrieked, somehow dropping everything onto his right foot while throwing herself at him in a giant, uncoordinated hug.

Steve was laughing in joyful relief before he even registered doing so, stabilising them both and hugging her back just as fiercely, trying to match her tone as he half-yelled back, “Robiiiin!!!”

Robin was laughing just the same, just short of snorting into Steve’s collar, “Oh it’s so good to be on the ground again, Steve I swear they make flying more stressful every time! And I get to see you, of course, though I could miss Indiana and be fine with it, especially with this awful humidity and having to see my extended family again, and missing G—Some people from school, yup, no one in particular—“

Steve couldn’t stop his happiness, fully content to let her ramble herself hoarse. He’d really missed this. He hugged her tighter unconsciously, inadvertently crinkling the goodies in his hands. At the noise, he swore and pulled back from the hug, “Damnit, I had this whole thing planned out—“

Juggling the meagre bouquet of random flowers to one hand, he held up the little sign he (and some of the kids) had worked on, as he had meant to do to welcome her arrival.

Robin paused her rambling to read the sign, cracking up as she did so. “Willkommen zurück zur Hölle!” Had been written several times over, first in messy pencil then bolder marker, with a few doodles of flames along the bottom of the page.

Steve grinned, “I thought you’d like it, even though all you’ve done this semester is complain about your German professor.”

“It’s not my fault he hates me!—“

He shoved the flowers at her to cut off the much-repeated rant, “And these are for you. Mostly because I hate hearing about all these dates you’re going on with no flowers involved! What happened to romance, Rob?”

Robin took a moment to softly smile at the gesture before jumping right back into their usual banter, “It’s not that easy, Steve! Am I supposed to be giving flowers or getting flowers? What if there’s allergies involved? Plus, you know I’ve been on all of three dates and none of them were the flower-giving types—“

Steve once again let her ramblings wash over him as he picked up her luggage and started walking back towards his car, her right at his side. He was so happy to have her back, even if just for the summer break.

[the73rdpostscript]

Tell me again about No Sleep Till JoeNicky - 7 - nice version and also tell me about aaaaahhhhhhh

(I know you know the background of this fic, but since most people don't I'm just gonna explain it.)

I'm writing a modern au where Joe develops really bad insomnia and discovers that the only way he can get some sleep is if he's sleeping...next to Nicky. He doesn't like Nicky but he REALLY needs to sleep before his big art show so they have to make it work and oh my GOSH wouldn't you know it they fall in love.

The first draft of this fic had Joe acting too rude for too long without adequate reason. I was essentially half-assing an enemies to lovers when the vibe of the story was just cutesy romcom stuff and it didn't work at all - even though I had some really fucking good scenes in there if I do say so myself.

So right now the story is being reformatted so that Joe is less of an asshole and the climax of the fic is no longer the two of them being vulnerable and apologizing to each other at a sleep clinic.

So since the sleep clinic climax isn't happening I'm gonna just share it here. It's a very long section but I really like what I had.

So....enjoy a massive amount of writing that is now totally irrelevant!

-

“I need to sleep! I want to sleep! And ideally I would be able to do that away from you!” Joe shouts.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he wishes he could take them back. Across from him, Nicky has gone completely still - mouth pinched shut and eyes shifting from hurt to distant so quickly Joe would miss it if he hadn’t spent the last week looking into those same eyes every morning and every night.

“Then it seems we have no more need to keep up the charade, as you called it.” Nicky says quietly. He might as well be sitting in an office meeting with strangers.

“Nicky, I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“I’d like you to leave now.” Joe thought he had heard the worst of Nicky’s coldness during the first fight they ever had. The ice in Nicky’s voice now would have shredded him that first day. It’s all he can do to look at Nicky long enough to nod and turn away.

-

He walks home, even though his hands are shaking and his legs feel weak. The cold air is an unpleasant sensation and he thinks he might be in trouble if it’s still better than the feeling he has after that fight.

When he gets home he walks past Nicky's shortbread and eats leftover takeout that smells questionable at best.

Maybe there was something to his false bravado about not needing Nicky, because after an hour of crying to himself he falls asleep on his couch, alone.  

-

The next day he can barely get any work done, and the Nicky painting sits in the corner, staring at him as he struggles with the other canvas – the one he was so close to finishing yesterday.

Around dinnertime, Quynh sends him an email with the options for an appointment at the sleep clinic – detailing the merits of the place, and asking for a response when he’s able. When they’re able actually. Nicky is the other recipient of the email, and though he hasn’t responded with his availability yet, Joe knows he’s seen it.

Nicky is always checking his phone – Joe’s seen him do it so many times he could paint the gesture from every angle. He would want to do one from just behind, and capture the privacy of the moment from over Nicky’s shoulder, highlighting the angle of his nose as the screen lights it up, and the clench of his jaw that he never seems to notice. Maybe Nicky would sleep better if he looked at his phone less.

The email stares up at him from his phone, and Quynh’s impatience is clear in every perfectly chosen word. There are implications there: Quynh and Nicky have spoken since last night, or Andy and Nicky. Maybe Nicky didn’t say anything and Quynh saw his mood at lunch. She’s been suspiciously quiet towards Joe since this whole thing started and it hasn’t escaped Joe’s notice that Andy introduced her to Joe after she was already friends with Nicky.

Joe’s pulse spikes at the idea of losing Quynh or Andy over this. But then he remembers the time that Booker almost hit Joe outside the nightclub, and the time that Andy disappeared for a week in the middle of her own wedding preparations. Joe doesn’t make friends with people who would turns him away over a single fight. Even if he feels like he might deserve it right now.

None of this matters in the moment, however. Joe had asked for a solution to his sleep problem that doesn’t include Nicky, and that’s what’s being offered.

With a sigh, he sends back his availability, and he only barely resists throwing his phone when Nicky responds less than a minute later with his own confirmation of a date that will work.

Before he can stop himself, Joe opens a text message to Nicky, and he gets halfway through his first sentence before he realizes that he doesn’t know what he could say that would even start to address everything that’s happened so far.

Instead he shuts his phone and pulls out an old canvas he once left half finished out of sheer annoyance. He paints until the sun comes up, and then he paints some more.

-

The sleep clinic is small. Joe only sees two assistants and one clinician. The assistants have Joe fill out forms when he arrives, perched awkwardly on a plastic chair next to Nicky.

Between the staff’s polite and distant demeanor, and Nicky’s stoic compliance, Joe feels like he’s alone in the room. It isn’t until they’re asked to detail what’s been going on that he feels a semblance of normalcy.

“So that’s why we’re here to see you,” Joe finishes, having taken point on explaining the situation.

The clinician behind the desk looks at Nicky. “Anything to add?”

Nicky shrugs, “Joe covered it all more or less accurately. I have been struggling with sleep for longer than him, but sleeping beside him has let me sleep regularly and more easily.”

“How much longer have you had trouble sleeping?” The clinician asks, looking down at Nicky’s chart.

Joe watches the lines of Nicky’s shoulder lift – tension clear in his jaw, “I don’t think that’s relevant.”

The clinician responds coolly, “I can’t help you without the proper background information.”

Glancing at Joe, Nicky lets out a sigh, “I stopped sleeping well in my late teenage years.”

Joe tries not to visibly respond, but he can feel his mouth drop open. Beside him, Nicky seems to tense more - as if he can sense Joe’s reaction.

“Any idea what caused the change?”

“I don’t think Nicky needs to share that,” Joe says, speaking before he thinks about it. The idea of Nicky being asked to tell a strangers details that he hasn’t even been able to tell Joe after a week of sleeping in the same bed feels inappropriate at best. This was not a part of his plans to get some sleep.

If Nicky has anything to say about the interruption, he doesn’t get the chance as the clinician addresses Joe, “We are not mind readers Mr. Al-Kaysani. We can’t tell you what is going on with you if we don’t have context for the things you’re experiencing.”

“That may be true, but Nicky didn’t want to share any of this with me before, and I don’t-“

“Nothing changed,” Nicky interrupts Joe with all the calm that Joe can’t feel, “I could not even guess why I stopped sleeping. I’m sorry if that hinders any part of this study.” Something in his voice sounds off, but the clinician doesn’t seem to notice as she nods.

“Okay. Well thank you for telling us what you could. I can’t promise any results tonight, but we will do our best with what we get.”

As the woman rises from her chair, Joe turns to look at Nicky. The other man is gathering his coat and his bag – avoiding Joe’s eyes.

It’s all Joe can do not to grab him and ask him if he still wants to do this at all.

-

When they’re led into a room with two twin beds, Nicky still isn’t looking at Joe.

They were directed to put on their own sleepwear before they came in, and Joe notices that the shirt Nicky picked is different than the worn out ones he usually wears to bed. Joe himself is wearing sweatpants that he normally works out in, and he isn’t even close to feeling relaxed as they get into their respective beds.

The woman speaks over the intercom to them, instructing them to try and sleep but not to feel pressure. They have time, according to her.

For a few minutes, Joe and Nicky lay in silence.

“Quynh didn’t come,” Joe observes at last, “I thought she might.”

“Her meeting ran late,” Nicky responds, voice stiff.

And with that, they return to silence.

Another few minutes pass by, and Joe knows they can’t have been there long, but he’s distinctly aware of how slow time is moving based on how loud Nicky’s breathing feels – uneven and overwhelming over the distance between them.

“I’m sorry,” Joe says, suddenly.

In the silence, Nicky’s breathing has changed, “Scusi?”

“I’m sorry that they asked you about your past, and that you have to be here at all. This wasn’t where I thought we’d end up.”

For a long time they lay in silence.

“Where did you think we’d end up?” Nicky asks.

Joe opens and closes his mouth several times before Nicky shifts in his bed and says, “We should try counting down again.” The lights of the room are dim but not completely dark and Joe can see Nicky laying stiffly under the sheets – looking as uncomfortable as Joe feels.

“Alright. 10, 9, 8,”

Nicky joins him on 7, and this time Joe is still awake when he gets to 1, so he hears Nicky’s voice slow down and drop off during the countdown. For a moment the only sound in the room is the unnatural hum of a different air system, and the steady inhaling and exhaling of Nicky’s sleep.

-

The clinician wakes Joe up, and after a moment of feeling disoriented, he looks over at where Nicky is already sitting up – waiting for one of the assistants to finish pulling the sensors off his face.

“Did you find anything?” Joe asks the clinician, not bothering to let her say anything before he sits up and reaches to help her pull the sensors off.

She catches his hands and tells him to be patient and to relax a moment, but he only lowers his hands and asks, “Did you get what you needed?”

“We got what we needed, but I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed with what we discovered.”

Joe can’t see Nicky’s face but he can feel the tension radiating off of him.

The clinician steps back to more clearly address them both as she says, “We’ve confirmed that there’s nothing unusual about your physical readings when you sleep beside each other. There’s nothing specific going on biologically that we can point to right now.”

Joe wants to scream. “What does that mean?”

For the first time all night, the woman looks a little soft as she addresses him, “It means I don’t have any answers for you, Mr. Al-Kaysani.”

"So why cant I sleep without him?" He can’t stop himself from asking.

The woman gives him a patient look as she responds, "It could be any number of things. External or internal. Rhythms of your apartment, lack of sound, a pet, nightmares, anxiety-"

Joe doesn’t know why, but the very word makes him choke. “Are you saying that being without Nicky gives me anxiety?" Before he finishes the question he’s looking over at Nicky, and Nicky turns to look back. His face is intense and his gaze unwavering. It’s the expression he made the night that they talked about his nightmares – scared and determined and so unbelievably vulnerable that it makes Joe choke on the last word. Something in Nicky’s jaw ticks, and Joe wonders about it for a moment before Nicky speaks and the moment dissipates.

"Impossible. Anyone who feels anxiety when I'm gone has never lost an argument about something as stupid as whether or not [team] will make it to [tournament]."

Joe crushes the urge to argue and takes the offering for what it is, turning to the doctor and asking, "Do you see what I have to put up with?"

The doctor hums and looks down at her chart, "if you don't have any more questions, I'll let you both go. We have all we need for now and you'll get results in your email within a few days."

-

They leave the lab in relative silence, and as they step out of the doors, Joe asks, “Will you come back to my place?”

Nicky looks startled at the question, and Joe remembers just as suddenly what day it is.

“Oh. Right, you have that thing.”

After a brief look of confusion, Nicky’s expression turns to something that might be either frustrated or fond, “That’s not tonight. I’d be happy to come back to your place.”

The radio keeps them company on the drive back to Joe’s apartment, and it isn’t until they get inside that Joe thinks to ask, “Did you cancel your mystery guests?”

“I did,” Nicky says, sounding tired. For a moment, they stand in the hallway together – Joe leaning against the wall and Nicky with his hands on his hips. They must paint a rather sad picture – half in and half out, of both the apartment and this peace that could be something deeper if they let it. If Joe let it, maybe.

“I’m sorry.”

“So you said,” Nicky replies, one corner of his mouth lifting, “Show me where your kitchen is. I think we both could use something to eat.”

Once Joe’s gotten Nicky acquainted with the space and convinced him to keep the cooking simple, he settles himself the counter he thinks will be least in the way.

“You know don’t have to cook for me. I wouldn’t exactly want to feed me right now after everything.”

“That is why it’s good that you don’t make decisions for me,” Nicky says, digging around in the fridge, “You could do something for me though.”

“What?”

Standing up straight, Nicky turns to meet Joe’s eyes. “Tell me what this has all been about.”

-

[aikofanfan]

Obey me, Themis! [Part 2]

Part 1: Link

Update: Part 3 is out!

Summary: Nothing ever goes according to plan. Now working side by side with Rosa and finding the answer as to how a plant from the Devildom that’s deadly to humans ended up in the Human World.

Pairings: Gn!Mc x Lucifer and heavy hints to Rosa x Artem

Warnings: Drugs

A/n: This basically just became a buddy cop story if you think about it. ⚖️😈

“I think I know where we can start.”

~Meanwhile~

Rosa had insisted you stay at her apartment instead of finding some hotel in the city. So here you were hanging around while she did whatever she went off to with Luke. You were laying on the couch, playing with your phone when it rang.

“Yo.” You greet.

“Are you still at the apartment?” Rosa asks, sounding oddly serious which makes you change your tune.

“Yeah. Something wrong?” You ask.

“I’ll explain once you get here. Luke is on his way to pick you up.” She says and hangs up without another word. So many questions come to mind as you get a text from Luke saying he’s here.

“What’s going on? Did something happen?” You ask as you slip into the passenger seat of the car.

“Rosa didn’t tell you?” He asks as he drives off.

“No she said she’ll explain when I get there. Where is there?” You keep prying. Luke looks at the road, seeming conflicted on what to say. He decided not to say anything and you make a face.

~~~~~

He pulls up to a building and Rosa was there waiting outside. You quickly get out and she rushes over to meet you half way.

“I know you have a lot of questions-”

“About enough to fill a cargo plane.”

She winced a little at your tone and you dial it back. She has a reason you’re sure, relax.

“I-we need your help with a case.” She began, gauging your reaction.

“We?” You repeat. You glance around and Luke was still there, standing off to the side then you look at the building. “….alright you two what the hell is going on?”

One lengthy explanation later and you aren���t even sure what to think. NXX? Rosa and Luke? Along with the other three you met?

You pace around as you take in what they told you and why they brought you here.

“I know what you’re probably thinking but you are the only person I know that can help us with this.” Rosa says as she walks up to you. “If I’m right, you did want to tell Luke at some point.”

“But like this?” You gesture to the building. You know she’s trying to brighten the mood and all but. “I’ll help.”

“Really??” She gasps. You nod.

“If you’re right then a whole lot more people are going to get involved.” You say, becoming serious. Rosa nods and she with Luke lead you inside.

No one says anything but you feel everyone looking at you and Rosa as she leads you to the table in the center. She hands you a small bag with a plant you instantly recognize. Although its effects to demons are that of normal happy drugs- to humans the reactions are far more serious.

“MC?” Rosa asks softly beside you.

“I know what it is.” You confirm, holding it up into the light to get a better look. “Best way I can describe it is demonic marijuana. Incredibly harmful to humans.”

“So that means…” Rosa trials off as she thinks.

“It is from where you thought it was, Rosa. Good eye.” You pat her back.

“Care to explain a bit more?” Marius asks. You glance at him and the others, sighing.

“It’s from the Devildom. Or as you would call it- Hell.” You explain. “Since it looks like I’ll be working with you guys on this. I better come clean.”

“My name is MC as you know and as the doc here guessed, there’s more to me than meets the eye.” You say and before anyone has a chance to call you crazy, you snap your fingers and the four men are lifted up into the air by your magic. “I can travel between the three realms and have pacts with the seven rulers of Hell. You might know them.”

You set them all down and cross your arms. They all look perplexed. Luke seemed to have connected the dots.

“Is this part of why you went missing for a year?!” He asks.

“Yes.” You answered. “I’ll tell you all the details later but just know I have many connections.”

“I know this is a lot but they’re the best lead we have.” Rosa says, being able to tell Artem Marius and Vyn are still unsure about this. And then Marius laughs.

“Just when you think you’ve figured the world out more stuff gets thrown at you.” He says.

“So?” Rosa asks.

“They can join this investigation. It’d be foolish not to after that display.” Vyn says and everyone agreed.

“It just doesn’t make sense though. Traveling between the realms isn’t that easy. A regular human or demon shouldn’t be able to do it.” You mutter.

“We have some idea as to where it started to appear.” Marius says and you nod.

“You look into that. Looks like I’m heading back to the Devildom sooner than I had planned to.” You sigh.

“Let me go with!” Rosa pipes up.

“Eh?” You blink at her.

“I have the files and everything we know about this already.” Rosa says. She had a point but…

“Alright then I guess we can spilt up into teams. Three stay here and two of you can come with me.” You state and before anyone can have a say. “Rosa and pretty boy. Let’s go.”

You point at Rosa then to Artem. The lawyer points to himself and you nod. “Yeah you pretty boy. Come on.”

“Wait now?” He asks. You nod again.

“The sooner we get this ball rolling the sooner we get answers.” You explain. Rosa nodded agreement and helped him gather all the things they were going to need. You walk out of the building with the two and pull out your DDD.

“Your friend is bossy.” Marius says to Luke.

“That just means we have a good member on our side, no?” Luke grins.

“I’m surprised you aren’t freaking out. You seem just as protective over them as you are with Rosa.” Marius comments.

“I’m worried yes but now isn’t the time for that plus they can use magic. They’d sooner flip me around like a pancake before I get a word out I’m sure.” Luke states.

“Yes I know it’s late but I’m only calling so you can’t say I didn’t warn you.” You huffed and hang up.

“Who was that?” Rosa asks. “Was that your boyfriend???”

“ANYWHO.” You say and hear the little tease giggle. “Hold onto to me or each other and get ready to land- somewhere.”

You focus, picturing the House of Lamentation which wasn’t hard since it practically your second home. With a clear image in your head, magic flows around the three of you and poof!

~~~~~

You land on your feet and have to act fast, catching Rosa and then Artem.

“What part of hold onto me or each other did you not understand?” You ask as you set the man down. “Ah whatever.”

“Seeing it in person vs in pictures are so very different.” Rosa says, eyeing the big mansion. Meanwhile Artem was looking around and backs up closer to Rosa and you when he sees demons eyeing them.

“Um MC?” He asks. You glance over and like a switch in your head-

“OI! The fuck are you looking at huh?!” You hiss, eyes flaring up in wrathful green.

“Oh shit that’s MC!”

“Let’s get out of here!”

You watch the demons run off once they realize the two humans are with you. Your eyes change back to their original color as you calm down.

“Now then.” You whirl back around to face the two lawyers who jaws were dropped. “Hm?”

“Hm? HM??? MC that was amazing!” Rosa says as she claps.

“Indeed any doubts I may have had left are long gone.” Artem adds as he too claps. “Seems like your name holds a lot of weight to it.”

“Yeah it wasn’t easy. Ah anyway! Welcome to the Devildom. This is the House of Lamentation.” You say.

“Right. You told me this is where you stay anytime you came down here right?” Rosa asks as you lead them inside with your spare key.

“Correct. Now it’s technically late so everyone will be asleep.” You explain and walk in with them.

“Who’s everyone?” Artem asks. You just grin and give him a wink. To your surprise you see a light coming from the living room.

“Oh he better not have.” You mumble.

“Something wrong?” Rosa asks. You simply motion for them to follow. You walk down and peak into the room and low and behold.

“Lucifer.” You huff. The demon in the chair looks up, he was still in his sleep wear.

“Lucifer???” Rosa gasps. “Like as in- THAT Lucifer???”

“Yeah yeah avatar of pride n all that. I told you you didn’t have to stay awake.” You shrug off the shocked Rosa and walk over to the man as he closed the book he was reading.

“You call in the middle of the night and don’t even explain what’s wrong. Why would I fall back asleep?” He asks as he stands up.

“Because you don’t know the meaning of sleep and you sleeping is rare.” You state, cupping his face. “This situation is urgent I won’t lie but it still could’ve waited till morning.”

Lucifer holds your hands, turning his head and kissing you on the palm of your right hand. His way of telling you not to worry with no words needing to be said.

“Wait your boyfriend is LUCIFER???”

You both look to Rosa who had smacked her hands over her mouth, not having meant to blurt that out loud.

“Right you two.” You sigh and let Lucifer go. “Luci this is my best friend Rosa and this is Artem Wing.”

“Humans.” He states.

“Yeah. Look we’re gonna need you and probably Dia’s help. Maybe more than that.” You began. Seeing as this was going to be a long conversation, you all sit down.

“Hmm.” Lucifer hums in thought.

“Any thoughts?” You asked after a moment.

“No but one things for sure is that Lord Diavolo is going to need to know about this.” He says, which you already knew but hearing it out loud well.

“I was afraid of that.” You sigh. “But that can wait till morning. Barbatos would have our heads if we woke up the Prince this late.

“Prince????” Rosa gawks. “We’re gonna meet a Prince???”

You stand up and make the pair follow you as you head to your room in the House. Once there, you look around and throw some spare clothes at them.

“You guys can sleep here. I’ll room with Luci.” You state.

“Um MC but-” Rosa glances at the single bed in the room.

“Ah Ah Ah don’t give me that bull.” You shake your finger in their faces. “See ya in the morning.”

You walk out and close the door. Thinking about it the other boys can probably tell you’re here once they wake. Just to be safe you ward the door and leave a sign.

Rosa changes in the room’s separate bathroom while Artem changes in the room. Once done they turn the light off and lay in the bed, Rosa closer to the wall.

“I can tell you have a lot of questions.” Rosa says, catching Artem off guard as she turned to face him. “Since it’s all out in the open now, I can answer the best I can.”

“For as long as I’ve been an attorney I thought I’ve seen it all but.” Artem lays on his back. “I don’t even know what to think at the moment.”

“Believe me I get it.” Rosa says, laying on her back now too. “When MC first told me a few years back I was surprised. But at the same time, excited. There’s so much more out there.”

“Interesting out look.” Artem says. “But you’ve known about this for awhile now.

“Mhm. MC says the relations between the realms still aren’t the best so they have to be careful as to who knows about them and well- the everything about them.” Rosa explains. “This would be one of the rare occasions where it was needed.”

“Anyway we should get some rest. There’s going to be a lot of work to be done come morning.” Rosa adds.

~~~~~

You and Lucifer were up and moving before anyone else. Lucifer already on the phone with Diavolo while you went to wake up Rosa and Artem. When you reach the door you take the ward off but keep the sign just to be safe.

“Wa-” you snap your mouth shut before the rest of your words could escape when you see them. They were sound asleep and spooning. Rosa having her arms tightly wrapped around Artem’s middle from behind which looked so funny since he’s so much taller than her. You snap a few quick pictures before walking over and shaking Rosa.

“Mmm five more minutes.” She mumbles, nuzzling her face into Artem’s back. You poke her head until she groans, using one arm to support her and her other still holding Artem.

“Morning.” You grin, not bothering to point out how she’s cuddling the man like a teddy bear.

“Whaaaaat.” She yawns, still half asleep as she pulls Artem closer, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder. You glance at Artem who was clearly awake but must not have the heart to say anything, he’s blushing so hard his ears were red.

“We got work to do, Rosy.” You tell her. You watch as she slow wakes up more, her work mind catching up to her, cutting through the fog of sleep.

“Ah right.” She hums.

“So ahem um….can you let me go now?”

……..

“OH MY GODS!”

Rosa jumps away from Artem like she had touched a hot stove and stumbles away, falling off the bed. You burst out into laughter as Rosa says sorry over and over again to Artem as he sits up.

“Jerk! Why didn’t tell me?!” She asks you, face so red she looked like a tomato.

“Pssshh like you would’ve listened.” You stuck your tongue out at her.

You walk down the stairs with them after they got ready and you get swarmed once you step off the last step.

“MC when did you get here???”

“I tried seeing if you were in your room but it was blocked off!”

“Idiot did you not read the sign?”

“HEY!” You snap and they all back off. “Guys I’ll fill you in later. Come on.”

You pull the lawyers along and past the six demons you knew was eyeing them. Not like in a bad way more like confused.

“Oooh you must be Rosa!” Asmo chirps. “You look much cuter in person.”

“Asmo.” You warn. He only winks at you and backs off as you head out of the House.

“Hm the rulers of Hell are a lot more…childish than I was expecting.” Rosa hums.

“Try living with them.” You groan. “We’re going to meet with Lord Diavolo. Out of anyone here he’s mostly got some clue as to what’s going on.”

“Is he going to be upset with you about bring us here?” Artem asks and you didn’t even think about that.

“If I explain why I don’t think he’ll mind. Besides you aren’t in any danger so long as you’re by me.” You state. Lucifer comes around with the car and you all get in. The trip there you were explaining every little thing to Rosa who was in awe as she watches out the window. The only problem was most of the sights were on Artem’s side and she uh….

“You aren’t going to point out how she practically has that man pinned to the door are you?” You hear Lucifer whisper.

“Nope!” You grin. Rosa, completely unaware with how she has Artem caged in between her body and the car door keeps looking on while Artem burns up.

“Oh oh MC is that RAD??” Rosa spoke up, looking as the car passes the school.

“It is. That’s where I spend a good chunk of my days.” You answer. She keeps watching, Artem keeps looking everywhere except at Rosa and you finally show mercy. “Rosa sit correctly please before Artem dies from being flustered.”

You glance back at them just in time to see Rosa noice for the first time how close she got to Artem before scrambling back.

“Sorry!” She says quickly, now blushing herself. You chuckle, giving a thumbs up to Artem when he gives you a look of gratitude. Hm you still had time before you reached the Demon Lord’s Castle. You pull out your phone and type.

You: Hey Rosa

You hear Rosa’s phone chime. Before long you get a text.

Rosa: I’m right behind you, is something the matter that you can’t say it out loud?

You: Oh it’s nothing like that. More of uuuuhhh observation if you will.

Rosa: Observation of what?

You: You and pretty boy there. That’s the second time you subconsciously got super close to him. You like him, don’t you?

You hear Rosa choke on air before getting a reply.

Rosa: MC now is not the time for this! Me and Artem are purely professional!

You: Yeah right! I have a pact with the Avatar of Lust. I can see it in you.

You glance over your shoulder at Rosa, eyes lightly shining a soft pink. Rosa looks up at you then immediately looks away, blushing. You stop messing with her when you see the Castle.

~~~~

“MC!” Diavolo was quick to pull you into a tight hug. “So good to see you!”

“That’s Lord Diavolo?” Rosa asks Lucifer as they stand off to the side.

“Yes.” He answered. You turn to them and motion with your hand for them to come over.

“Dia this is Rosa and her partner/mentor Artem Wing.” You introduce.

“MC was just telling me about you both.” Diavolo smiles at them and shakes their hands. “They’ve filled me in briefly on why you’re here and what’s going on.”

“I hope we haven’t caused you any trouble and we know this is very sudden, Lord Diavolo.” Rosa says, standing tall and bowing her head a little.

“None at all. This is a serious matter and I’ll do what I can to help.” Diavolo promised. “Plus you have MC after all.”

You stand back as Rosa and Artem question Diavolo. For the most part everything sounded pretty normal, like a small drug ring you’d hear back up in the human world. Until-

“I do recall Mephistopheles telling me about a student passing around some sort of plant they found farther north in the Devildom.” Diavolo tells Rosa.

“What did it look like?” She asks.

“He said it was red with black on its leaves.”

“That’s what we found.” Artem nods.

“That’s the plant that ended up in the human world?” Dia asks and they nod. “Oh my, that’s incredibly dangerous to humans.”

“We know. We’ve already had reports about it.” Rosa frowns.

“Well now we know for sure it’s from here.” You spoke up. “Where’s Mephistopheles right now?”

“I’m not sure but I can ask him to come here.” Diavolo offers.

“Please do.”

[practically-an-x-man]

Prompt:

"Where the fuck did all these kittens come from?"

Haha alright, I think I can see where this one's going... Ophelia, guest appearance by Siv

____ Amadeus

Word Count: 1.2k Content Warnings: swearing I guess? ____

Ophelia pushed through the door separating her lab from her apartment... and nearly tripped over an animal in the doorway. Her body jolted with surprise, and she managed an awkward half-hop to keep from stepping on the creature.

At first, she thought it was a rat. It was rat-sized, and a ratlike blackish-gray, and had a rat's long, thin tail....

And then her brain caught up, and she realized it wasn't a rat. It was a hairless cat, a hairless kitten, for some reason traversing the hallway with stumbling, too-wide steps. Confused, she scooped it up and held it against her chest.

"Peter?" she asked, keeping her eyes on the floor as she moved further into the apartment. She didn't want to step on any more defenseless animals. "Hey, why's there a cat in our-"

She reached the living room and froze.

"Where the fuck did all these kittens come from?"

Counting the one in her hands, there were five. Peter was sitting on the floor, managing to distract two of them with a piece of string. One of them had lost interest and was wandering the room with clumsy steps, and the last was attempting to wriggle its way under the coffee table. Ophelia promptly rerouted that one.

"Oh, uh, someone rang the doorbell. They were in this basket." Peter said, gesturing to a fabric-lined picnic basket near the door.

"Why are they in our apartment?" she asked, settling the last writhing kitten on the floor before it could decide it wanted to bite her.

"Well, I wasn't just going to leave them," he argued, "Figure at least we could see if anyone wants them before we take them to the animal shelter."

"Did you see who dropped them off?"

"No. They were gone too fast. There was, like... lightning."

"Lightning?" Ophelia glanced out the window. Cloudless skies. And she hadn't heard any rain or thunder - she could get hyperfocused on her work, yes, enough that she'd missed the sound of the doorbell, but she would've noticed lightning. Especially after the way she'd been pulled from her original life.

"Not the weather. Like superpowers." Peter explained, following her eyes to the window. One of the kittens lunged for the string, and he winced as tiny claws caught his skin.

"Hm." Ophelia replied, glancing from the basket to the clowder of kittens sprawled across her living room. "I thought you were allergic to cats."

"Not these guys. They don't have fur." he replied, jerking the string to make the kittens pounce. One took a tumble upon landing, legs going every direction in a tangle of limbs. Peter laughed. "I like that one. He's kinda clumsy. I'm gonna call him Amadeus."

Ophelia took a second glance at the cat. He'd picked himself up from the floor and was making a second, renewed pass at the length of string. He didn't have much more luck this time around. The kitten looked like one big, wobbly wrinkle... but almost in a cute way.

"No- don't name him, you're gonna get attached to him." she muttered, "And this place is really not... cat-friendly. Plus, my dad's allergic too, and he's just downstairs."

"They still don't have fur." Peter pointed out, then scooped up the kitten and held him out to her, "C'mon, Ol's, isn't he cute?"

"We need to take them to a shelter." Ophelia sighed, fishing in her pocket for her phone. She had a feeling she knew who was responsible for all this. "Give me ten minutes."

She ducked back down the hall and into her lab, waving a cursory hand at her actuators as she swiped through her phone. Even just a brief glance at her text history confirmed her suspicions. She'd been sent a picture of a black sphynx kitten - that looked damn near identical to the one Peter had started calling Amadeus - from an unknown number less than a week ago.

Ophelia rolled her eyes and dialed the number.

"Siv Thawne, what the fuck?"

"You said it was cute!" the other woman replied, not sparing so much as a moment to wonder who was at the phone.

"Cute does not mean give me five kittens!" Ophelia huffed, pacing her lab with a hand on her hip, "What makes you think I'm equipped for one cat, let alone five?"

"Hey, I've got number six!" Siv fired back, and then their voice softened slightly, "Her name's Delilah. Have you named yours yet?"

"I'm not naming them. We're taking them to a shelter. I'm telling you, we're not prepared to own a cat, especially not one as high-maintenance as a sphynx. They're prone to skin problems, poor temperature regulation... half these kittens at least probably have hypertrophic cardiomyopathy..."

"See, look, you already know how to take care of them." Siv drawled, "Perfect."

"Sivonne. I cannot adopt a cat right now. I most certainly cannot adopt five cats right now." Ophelia said, "I thought you were texting me about... the other thing."

"Oh, I was. Still need a hand with that." they replied, "But I found these kittens and figured..."

"What, that you could just drop 'em off and it would all be fine?"

"Kind of."

"Come pick them up. Find someone else to watch them."

"You don't even want to adopt one?" Siv asked, "You need a pet that's not robotic. And I thought you'd like the little wiggly one. Clearly you're into goofy things."

"Clearly?"

"Well, if the guy who answered the door was any indication."

Ophelia tilted her head at that. Yeah... she had a point. Peter was a pretty goofy guy. She ran a hand over her face.

"I will... consider it." she finally relented, "But you need to come pick the others up right now."

"Thirty minutes."

"Now."

"Ugh, fine."

Siv promptly hung up, and Ophelia tucked the phone back into her pocket. She ran a hand over her face with a sigh, then pushed back through the door to her apartment.

"I've got someone coming to pick them up." she said, already scooping up the kittens that had begun to wander too far. Peter gave her a look of exaggerated disappointment, then pointedly tilted his chin down at himself. Amadeus was apparently sacked out from the exhausting task of catching the string, and was curled up in Peter's arms.

"Look at him, Ol's."

The doorbell rang almost as soon as he'd finished his sentence. Peter's dejected look only grew, and he glanced from her back down to the kitten.

"That'll be Siv." Ophelia said, setting the rest of the kittens back in their basket. Peter tightened his grip on the last one, just a little. Ophelia pressed her lips together. The doorbell rang again, more incessantly, but she didn't move. Finally she sighed.

"I need you to run down to the pet store on the corner and pick up some cat stuff."

Peter's face brightened so suddenly it felt like the whole room got a few shades lighter. It was almost as cute as the sleeping kitten in his arms.

"So we can-"

"We can hold onto Amadeus," she agreed, "For a little while."

[mrsaltieri-real]

His Perfect Victim (Mickey Altieri x OC!Dahlia Levine)

Chapter Ten: Hello?

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: not a lot of warnings here, language, brief mentions of Dahlia’s trauma, therapy, making up, mentions of sex, mentions of angst, etc

A/N: More of a filler chapter than anything, but it’s still important. We’re making some serious progress and it’s a big push forward so don’t miss it! Next chapter is going to be heavier, smuttier and have some angst thrown in for good measure. You’re not going to want to miss it! Thank you once again to @bisexual-horror-fan for your help, beta reading and editing this for me. I appreciate your help more than I can put into words!

@lizey-thornberry as you want to be tagged.

Therapy sucks. Therapy sucks even more when it wasn’t even your choice to attend sessions to begin with.

Sitting in front of a stranger staring at me with faux concern was agitating to say the least, especially when she’s getting paid a hundred dollars an hour to do just that, stare at me until I break and confess all my deep dark secrets and let my trauma seep through the cracks left behind from Woodsboro. The only reason I attended in the first place was due to my parents and my doctors.

I’d spent the first few sessions sitting in silence, watching as the arms of the clock ticked and tocked until an hour went by, and I could go back to moping in peace.

I was getting better now, slowly. That wasn’t down to the therapist, the doctors or my family. It wasn’t down to Sidney or Randy. It wasn’t even really down to Mickey as much as at the time I believed that to be the case. No, I now know it was down to me, giving myself the opportunity to be raw and open with another human being, completely vulnerable in ways I never had before.

Life’s too short for regrets, so I don’t regret it at all.

The one thing I did regret, however, was how I’d left things with Randy.

I’d been seriously neglecting my friendship with him, and I knew reconciliations had to be made sooner rather than later. The issue was the two of us were both too stubborn to make the first move into forgiveness. Even as kids, when we fought, we simply wouldn’t talk to one another until one of us would throw a toy at the other and hit them across the head. But we were adults now, and I don’t think I’d get very far if I threw a Barbie doll at him anymore, as amusing the image in my head was.

“Dahlia Levine?” The sweet looking receptionist called my name with a warm smile, to which I half-heartedly returned as I forced myself to stand up, making my way down the familiar hall to my therapist's office, Dr. Lorraine Galloway.

The door was already open, but I still tapped my knuckles lightly on the wood twice, and she twisted around in her chair, nodding and smiling politely when she saw me, loosely gesturing toward the huge armchair across from her. I obeyed quietly, settling down on the comfortable cushion and folded my hands in my lap.

“How are you doing today, Miss Levine?” She asked, the notebook already settled onto her lap, simple, small, lined paper and one of those curled metal spines that binds the pages together, looking like a coiled phone cord. Her hand rests on the page, holding her dark blue and gold fountain pen, her position in her chair is relaxed, one leg folded over the other as she observed me, waiting for my response.

I shrugged, eyes trained on my hands as I responded, “Better, I guess? And please call me Dahlia.” I’d already had a fair number of sessions with her and asked to be referred to by my first name every single time, it was beginning to annoy me and that must have been evident in my tone, judging how I heard the light scribble of pen to paper, making me suppress the urge to roll my eyes. Was she seriously making a note of that?

“How’s college treating you, Dahlia? I haven’t seen you in a little over two months.”

Shrugging again, fingers itching to twist my ring, I replied, “Things have been good. I haven’t felt the need to bother coming in.”

I could feel her eyes fixed on me, and it was already pissing me off. Dr. Galloway wasn’t like my old therapist back in Woodsboro. She actively tried to engage with me, try and get me to speak and fucking feel, although she learned fairly quickly I was completely unwilling to discuss Stu. No amount of therapy will ever make me want to consciously relive any of that.

“Is there anything you’d like to discuss or share? You have the whole hour, remember?”

I hesitated for a second, teeth sinking into my bottom lip. Dr. Galloway seemed to grasp at the straws and quickly added, “I’m here to listen,” before lightly placing her notebook onto her desk, leaning back in her chair and pushing her glasses up her nose.

“I… Uh…” I shifted awkwardly in my seat, settling on playing with my ring to try to comfort myself, push myself into talking. “Could I talk about my friend, Randy?”

“You can talk about whatever and whoever you want to, Dahlia. These sessions are yours.” Her hands opened, as if inviting me to go on, to which I awkwardly did so.

With a small sigh, I began to tell her about the last few months. About Mickey and Randy, and how impossibly guilty I felt that I’d been neglecting my friendship with the latter, practically threw him aside for some guy I was dating. She listened intently, and it honestly felt good that someone was listening to what I had to say with no judgment, even if she was getting paid hundreds of dollars to do so.

“Has Mickey ever given you or any of your friends reason to think he’d hurt you?” Dr. Galloway asked once I’d told the tale. Hesitating again, I nodded my head once, and she rested her chin against her hand, eyes urging me to go on.

“Well, a few months ago, before we started dating, Mickey fucked-” I cringed slightly at the word choice before correcting myself, “-sorry, slept with this girl at a party. Tricked me into going into the bedroom, so I’d see it.” I physically flinched at the memory, seeing that girl's face twisted in pleasure and Mickey fucking her from behind, eyes fixed on my face with that sick smirk on his face.

I hadn’t thought about that in a while, suppressed it to the dark dusty corners in my mind along with my other painful memories I’d sooner forget all about.

“And did Randy know about that?”

“No, I never told him. But I think he had an idea because it was after that night he started having reservations about Mickey and I- I just don’t know what to do.” Fuck, is this why people went to therapy? I could feel so many suppressed emotions rushing to the surface so fast it was making my head spin.

“Maybe your friend has a reason to be concerned, then.” She suggested with a small shrug.

“He doesn’t.” I insisted firmly, halting the twisting of the ring and shaking my head, “Yeah, Mickey can be kind of a dick, but no one else sees the side of him that I do. How patient and gentle he can be.”

“Then maybe that’s something you need to talk about with Randy. Communication in friendships is important, and it’s clear that he’s important to you.”

Randy was important to me. I thought about it as I walked back to campus, shivering at the crisp air and silently cursing myself for forgetting to bring my jacket with me.

He was important to me, so was Mickey in a very different way. I thought about how much I missed Randy, discussing everything and anything with him until the day turned to night. How he was a huge part of the reason I was even able to recover, him staying at my bedside whilst I was in the hospital, doing everything he could to make me smile, the perfect friend.

Once on campus, I found myself making a beeline toward the one room I knew Randy would be in; the theatre. He enjoyed working on film projects there, so I wasn’t surprised to walk up the steps and see him perched on top of a prop wall, legs swinging and brows furrowed in concentration as he squinted into the lens of his camera.

“Hey, Rand.”

He jumped at the sound of my voice, camera nearly tumbling out of his hands as he looked at me, blue eyes wide. His face twisted to something akin to indifference as he eyed me up and down, lips pursed, before he mumbled, “Hey.”

I anxiously inched closer to him until I was leaning beside him, looking up at him seriously, “I’m sorry.”

His expression changed to shock as his head cocked to the side, and he exclaimed, “The fuck did you just say to me?”

The grin broke out across my face before I could even register it, playfully pushing Randy’s leg with a, “Shut up, dickhead.”

“Sorry, I just never thought I’d live to see the day Dahlia Levine apologizes to me.” His tone was only half teasing.

“It’s long overdue. I’m sorry, I’ve been a really shitty friend lately, Randy.” I said with a sigh, eyes dropping.

“Dahlia, it’s not you I blame, you know that.” His tone had an edge to it, and I instantly knew who he was in fact blaming.

I looked back up at him, practically pleading now as I spoke, “Randy, please, you don’t have anything to worry about. Mickey isn’t going to do anything.”

Randy rolled his eyes with a scoff, carefully placing the camera down beside him, “So you actually are dating him? For fuck's sake, D.”

I was getting mad, but I kept it inside, taking his free hand that wasn’t gripping the camera slightly harder than was probably necessary into mine and squeezing it gently.

“Even if it is a mistake, it’s my mistake to make. He makes me happy, Randy.”

Randy frowned, looking down at me with his brows knitted together, “He really makes you happy?”

“Yes, he really does.” I spoke honestly, maintaining eye contact with him all the while. Randy knew I didn’t lie, so he had no reason to suspect otherwise. He simply sighed, placing the camera in his other hand down beside him before moving it to place over the top of mine and nodded his head, saying softly, “Fine. For God’s sake, I still think he’s a fucking dick, but if anyone deserves happiness, it’s you.”

“So we’re friends again?” I asked hopefully, biting my lip as I awaited his response.

He rolled his eyes at me again, this time affectionately and released my hands, jumping down from the wall and pulling me into a tight hug. I closed my eyes, my arms wrapping around his waist as I hugged him back and his chin rested on the top of my head, the feeling comforting and familiar.

“Of course we are.” He said. I could tell he was smiling, but I know it didn’t quite reach his eyes in the way it should have, but at that moment, I was too happy to have my friend back to take much notice.

If only I’d noticed. If only I’d listened and was more critical.

After that, things were better, at least for a while. Mickey and I were growing closer with every passing day, listening to music in his dorm and just chatting mindlessly about anything and everything. He showed me some bands I’d never heard of when the movies got a little too much. I could tell his built-up wall was gradually beginning to crumble, allowing me to really get to know him, or the part of him he wanted me to know, but he was still always just a little distant. Not as much as before our night together, but a hint of detachment still lingered in the air.

Something was happening. I knew that was the case, something about it just spells it out, you know, like when a storm is coming in the summer? The lack of sound and the feeling in the air tattles on what is to come, announcing it long before a single flash of lightening or clap of thunder does.

One night, Mickey had already fallen asleep, but I simply couldn’t, so I just laid flat on my back, staring unseeing at the dully illuminated ceiling from the streetlights outside, when my phone began to buzz quietly on Mickey’s bedside table.

I glanced at his alarm clock, the bright letters stating it was three thirty in the morning.

Who the fuck would be calling me at this time.

I still felt uneasy about receiving phone calls and everybody in my life already knew that, but the anxiety that it could be an emergency got the better of my, so I flicked the phone open, taking in the unknown caller printed across the screen for a second before answering it, pressing the phone tentatively to my ear with a whispered, “Hello?”

No response.

I swallowed thickly, trying to get rid of the lump forming in my throat before asking again, a little louder, “Hello?”

Nothing.

Mickey stirred next to me, rolling onto his side and groggily opening his eyes, lifting his hand to rub them gently.

I sat up, hand shaking as I repeatedly whispered “Hello?” into the speaker.

“Whose that?” Mickey's voice was thick with sleep and the minute the words were out of his mouth, the line went dead.

Read Chapter Eleven HERE

[the12thnightproject]

Tempest in Time Prologue Part One - The Wormhole

Katsuko and her brother Toshiie are pulled through a wormhole to Japan, 1575

“Did you repair the drone?” I didn’t bother with a greeting.

Toshiie remedied my omission. “Hello. How was your week? I’ve missed you.” His snark burned through the 4G network. You’ve heard those stories of exploding telephones? If sarcasm could explode a phone, my brother would have killed three of mine already. “And yes, it’s fixed.”

I impatiently picked at my toenail while I went through the niceties with my twin. “Sorry. Hello. How was your week? I’ve missed you.” I had missed him, actually. At least as much as I missed anyone.

“Someone threw up in bio lab. That was the highlight.”

“Ew.” And he likely wasn’t being sarcastic. Knowing Tosh, it might have truly been the highlight of his week. He was studying nursing, with an eye to someday going to Medical School, so vomit and blood and bodies never bothered him. As a perpetually overworked student, his life was the lab, homework, and sleep.

Good thing he had me to break him out of his patterns. “Just dropped a pin to your phone – can you meet me there in an hour? Bring the drone.”

A loud sigh attacked my eardrum. “Katsuko, I have exams to study for. So do you.”

I was half-heartedly studying physical therapy. Very half-heartedly. These days there wasn’t much I was doing full hearted. Except…

“Please, please, please!” I had already changed from the outfit I had worn to class that morning, into sports bra, tank, and sweats. I stuck the phone between my ear and my shoulder, so I could I tape up my wrists. I knew Tosh wouldn’t turn me down.

With another (overly) dramatic sigh, he agreed. “Fine. See you in sixty.”

This time, Tosh was the one who skipped the greeting, hanging up without a goodbye. That’s typical of us. I hate saying hello. Tosh hates goodbye.

Sixty minutes was enough time to grab my beloved blue hoodie, my phone, a couple bottles of water, and some vegan power bars. I stuffed them all in my backpack, and ran out the door…

... and ran back in to grab my IC card.

As I dashed out the building again, I bundled my turquoise streaked hair in a lopsided ponytail, IC card clenched in my teeth as I chased down the bus.

In less than an hour, I was warming up in front of a three-story building, plotting out my route.

Tosh was late, as usual. I sometimes teased him about living on Toshiie time, but I was used to building an extra ten minutes into a schedule if I really needed him to be punctual. Eventually, he rolled up while I was pacing out the dimensions of the courtyard in front of a three story building. I watched him park his moped, then jog down the sidewalk, ignoring the admiring glances he was drawing from men and women alike.

You know how in some families, one kid gets the looks, and one kid gets the brains? Beautiful, brilliant Toshiie got both.

Me? I got the –

Thwack!

I winced as Tosh tripped over air.

-Coordination.

He stumbled a few steps toward me. I rushed forward to rescue his gear bag, knowing it was full of expensive camera equipment.

“Oh sure, save the bag, let your brother fall on his face,” Tosh grumbled.

“You just got this fixed from the last time.” I unpacked the drone.

He nodded, seeing my point. “What’s your route?”

I gestured to a series of railings, the exterior stairs, and the roof. “If you can, get hand-held for a wide angle, and send the drone above. Once I’m on the roof, meet me behind the building – there’s a park, and get ready to track my descent.”

There was no reason to explain any more. What’s the phrase – it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission?”

My warm up complete, I centered myself in a handstand while Tosh set up the cameras. Once he gave me a thumbs up, I flipped back to my feet and took off…

It’s called Freerunning. That use of obstacles to propel yourself through space, using your hands, feet and the environment as you nearly fly up, down, across, and under the landscape. Martial artists might call it by the French term, parkour, but I love the word freerunning. Free running.

Running free.

I hopped from one railing to another, balancing briefly on metal as I jumped over the side of the stairwell, then bounced to the wall of the next landing – zig zagging up levels until I flipped onto the roof. With a handspring for extra flair, I zipped across the rooftop.

When I was little, my mother, “exhausted” (her word) by my bouncing around our apartment, enrolled me in artistic gymnastics. That was fun for a few years, but I got bored with all the rules. Now, it’s me and the sky.

In winter, that means snowboarding every chance I get. In summer?

Running free.

At the other end of the rooftop, a metal safety rail lined the edge. I jumped up on the railing and impulsively tried a handstand and – the something shimmered in my peripheral vision, almost like the horizon was put together unevenly, no, that must have been the drone hovering — I shook my head to clear it, then--

Whoa! Ok. Balance check there.

That could have been bad… but what a rush!

Off I went again, ricocheting between the walls of the two buildings, and somersaulting into the park. I vaulted over the railing, jumped up to catch a bar of the jungle gym, using momentum to swing to another bar before throwing myself toward the soft sand at the end.

Out of breath, I slammed a water while Tosh recalled the drone and played back the footage.

“Fuck!” He was frowning into the camera.

“What, didn’t it record?” I rested my chin on his shoulder to peer at the replay. It looked like it recorded. It was already uploaded to the cloud, in fact.

“It recorded.” He rewound the video to the moment where it looked like I had almost fallen off the roof railing. “Katsuko – you could have been killed.”

“I wasn’t, though.” I broke into my energy bar stash and offered him one.

He pushed it away. “I’m done.”

I didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Wait. Don’t. I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” But he hugged me in spite of his harsh tone. “I can’t keep watching you chase death.”

“Stop it. I’m not like that.” I’m not like her. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“What are you doing?”

“I…I don’t know.” It was the truth. All I knew is that I had to keep running, or there would come a day when I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed. “Let’s get out of here.”

No need to specify where. When Toshiie and I needed a place to talk or to think, or both, we’d head out to the Togakushi Shrine area. It was the one place that seemed to speak to both of us, although I knew that Tosh preferred the shrines, while I was happiest on the trails.

We took his bike out to the shrine, and once there, walked quietly through the 400 year old cedar trees that marked the path to the upper shrine. Finally he asked, “If I begged you to stop, could you?”

My throat closed up at the thought. “What is this? An intervention? It’s not like I’m an addict.”

“I think you kind of are, actually.”

Seriously? His Introduction to Psychology course was going to his head. But I knew that he meant every word. “Wait, ok, how about this. I’ll stop taking extreme risks, ok?” I could do that. At least I wouldn’t take any risks if he was watching. In a few months, when the mountains were covered with snow, I’d take my board out to X-JAM as often as possible, and scratch my risk-taking itch on the half-pipe. So… really, I only had to behave through the rest of summer and fall.

CRASH! BOOM!

Distracted by our discussion, we hadn’t noticed the weather changing, until the crackle of lightning startled both of us. Within minutes, rain was pouring buckets. 

“Once again, the weather forecast was completely wrong.” Tosh muttered curses at the weatherman as he tried to keep the rain off his gear.

The timing was bad, but aside from that, I love storms. Something about the electricity in the air makes me feel more alive. I tilted my face to the sky and – “That’s weird.”

“It’s water, doofus.” Getting rained on makes Tosh cranky.

The entire landscape was vanishing under a dark mist. “Tosh, have you ever seen a fog bank in a storm?”

“What are you -?” He finally looked up from his camera. “You’re right. This is weird.”

It was still thundering and lightning, but the rain had turned to a thick soupy fog that blotted out almost all light, the seeped around and into my body. We were fading, becoming as unsubstantial as the mist that poured through us.

Tosh raised his hand. It looked translucent. “What the hell?!” His words came out as a whisper, as if the fog had invaded his throat.

I felt dizzy and ill, like the time after I broke my ankle and had had an allergic reaction to the anesthesia. Tosh grabbed onto me, his arms spasmed around my back. I closed my eyes and buried my face in his shoulder. I could feel he was shaking, or maybe that was me, and then-

THUNK. The two of us crashed onto the ground, onto a carpet of what smelled like pine needles?

I cautiously opened my eyes. Yep. Pine needles. The storm had passed as quickly as it had begun, and the sun was as bright as midday, though it had to be close to eight or nine p.m. But in the bright sunlight, I felt cold. And… was that sn-?

Brrrrr – my hoodie was not nearly warm enough any more. But I was better off than Tosh in his windbreaker. “But, it’s summer,” was all I could think to say. I rubbed my hands together. “Reverse global warming?”

“Actually global warming has been known to cause odd weather patterns,” Tosh said absently as he fiddled with his phone. “No bars.”

I got mine out. Nope. No bars, no GPS.

Something else seemed… eerie. It was silence. The daily hum of electricity, distant traffic, airplanes, that background white noise was all the more conspicuous for its absence.

“The footpath is gone.” Tosh kicked at the now overgrown carpet of brush below us.

“So are the cedar trees.” We were still in a forest of sort, but the comforting presence of the giant cedars was no longer there.

“Theory?” In the back of my head was a rather loud voice telling me that there had been an apocalypse and we were both dead. Funny, after spending the last year of my life not caring whether or not I lived or died, now that the possibility was in front of me, I really hoped I wasn’t dead.

He held up three fingers. “I got three. Apocalypse – like the snap in The Infinity Gauntlet.”

So he was on the same mental path that I was. But were we victims of the snap, or the only ones left behind? “Or…?”

“Or maybe we’ve somehow slipped into a different version of our universe?” One finger left. “Or, maybe it’s something simpler. One of us is dreaming.”

Dream. Yeah. A dream would be an acceptable explanation. “You couldn’t have led with the theory that doesn’t involve mass death?”

Tosh shrugged. “I went with the bad news fir-“

“Shhh!” I put my hand over his mouth.

What was that noise?

The clang of metal.

Harsh voices…

Hoofbeats… horses?

Tosh and I held still, unsure whether this new twist would be an improvement or make things worse?

A group of men in armor – dressed as samurai?! – burst out of the trees, brandishing swords and pikes.

“Whoa!” Tosh looked at the lacquered armor that covered the warriors. “Someone’s LARP group is uber committed.”

The person who appeared to be their leader barked something at us, but their dialect and accent was harsh and unfamiliar. I wasn’t entirely sure what they were saying. But the gist was something along the lines of robbery and enslavement… I think…? Tosh and I looked at each other, and wordlessly decided that our best bet was to run.

Unfortunately, immediate danger didn’t make Tosh any less clumsy. He went sprawling over a log, and while I was trying to help him to his feet we were surrounded. “Tosh, do you understand what they are saying?”

He shook his head. “I think they want to sell us… to the nanban?”

I had no idea what the nanban was or why it wanted buy people, but they were examining us like merchandise, so that was probably the correct interpretation. They pulled my hair out of its ponytail, marveling over the turquoise streaks, which apparently meant they could get more money for me?

That’s enough! When one of them checked my teeth, I bit him. That earned me a hard punch to the stomach. Another man was fascinated by the zipper on my hoodie. When he managed to unzip it and got a look at my thin tank top, he muttered, “Woman.”

Alright, the good news at least is that I was developing a better ear for their dialect. The bad news was that I didn’t actually want to know what they planned to do with a female prisoner. When the leader came in to take a closer examination of my body, I reacted instinctively and kicked out. I saw the punch coming at me …

Oh this is going to hur--

What brought me back to consciousness was the sensation of cold and damp -- I had been dumped into a snow bank. There were sounds of clanking metal again, yelling, grunts, then a yelp of pain. I opened my eyes to see the apparent leader of the bandit gang fighting with an old man (said “old man” would, if he could hear me, object to me characterizing him that way, but in that moment, he seemed quite elderly). The old man had amazing fighting abilities, whirling and punching with a spear.

In no time, my captor was groaning on the ground, his leg bent at an odd angle.

“Come on child.” My rescuer hurried to my side and wrapped me up in a warm cloak. “You’ll catch your death of cold.”

Still dizzy from the blow to the head, it took a moment to realize that… “Wait. Where are the others?” Where’s Toshiie?

“Others? There was this one man and you.” The man gave a shrill whistle, and a horse whinnied in the distance, then trotted up to us.

I explained what had happened with the bandits. “The rest of them must still have my brother. We have to go back to get him.”

He shook his head. “They’re long gone by now.” But in spite of his protest, he took me up on his horse, and we headed back through the trees. He was correct though – they were long gone.

“Is there a way to track them?” If this man could fight, then maybe he could-

“Not in this storm.” The snow had increased from light cotton balls to a swirling curtain of fat flakes. I shuddered, partially from the cold, partially from the fear that this was another storm that would pick me up and dump me somewhere else. Somewhere worse, than wherever here was. I flinched from the thought of what would be worse than armed bandits who wanted to sell me into slavery.

Dinosaurs. Dinosaurs would be worse.

After a long, cold and ride up a steep path, we arrived at gated manor near the top of the mountain. The storm was raging, and my teeth were chattering by then. The man gave my outfit a critical look. “Do you have any other clothing? Anything more suited for a woman?”

“No. When I left my – home – this afternoon, I expected to return in a couple hours.” I had no idea how much time (ha!) had passed. More than a couple of hours. More than a day. More than a century.

He helped me down – my legs had gotten cramped and stiff during the ride. “Where is your home? When the storm ends, I can send one of my apprentices to take you back.”

“It’s not going to be that simple,” I said, after getting a good look at a building that looked like it had been constructed recently – but it was an architectural style that I recognized from samurai houses that I had visited on school trips. That, along with the evidence of the missing cedar trees, and the men in armor, was leading me to a conclusion that I wouldn’t have believed if I hadn’t been in the middle of it.

But to announce that I was from a few hundred years in the future seemed to me to be the fastest way to get a one-way ticket to whatever this era’s version of a psychiatric hold was, so, instead, I simply said, “Our home was destroyed by the storm.”

He gave me the universal “I don’t believe you,” look, but he didn’t press the issue. In the years since, I have never told Yamaoka Akihira (that’s his name, but he lets us call him Aki) the truth about where I came from, but I’ve also managed, thanks to him, to become a much better liar.

“Alright,” he finally said, as we entered his house. “Do you have anywhere else to go?”

“No.” I was grateful to be out of the wind and snow, and not particularly interested in going back outside.

He rubbed his chin – a gesture that I’ve since come to recognize as his only “tell” that he’s calculating out several moves in an extended mental shogi game, before saying, “I suppose it’s a good thing that I hadn’t yet found a new maid.”

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé 2

Chapter 8: The Kiss

It was the first time you had ever heard Jung-Hyun talk with such timidness. And it wasn't difficult to understand why. Had he seriously just asked if you could help him clean himself?

Jung-Hyun was looking at everything except for you as he extended his treated hands. “I can’t let my palms get wet,” he continued when you would say nothing. “And without my hands, I won’t be able to accomplish particularly much on my own.”

Ah, of course. His hands. You cursed yourself inwardly for letting his question shock you so severely that you had completely forgotten about the obvious reason behind it.  

“Oh, alright,” you said after gathering yourself. “I mean, yeah, I could. Of course. Sure.”

“You don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“I’ve already seen you shirtless,” you said dismissively while trying not to blush. “As long as you leave your pants on, I’ll be fine.”

The corners of Jung-Hyun’s mouth curved upward infinitesimally. “I see.”

A wave of heat enveloped your face and you turned around. “Come on,” you said as you gestured for him to follow you.

After leaving Jung-Hyun in one of the bathrooms, you hurried toward your parents’ bedroom. It took you a few minutes to rummage through their walk-in-closet, but it was a moment of solitary thinking that you appreciated.

There wasn’t anything weird about you helping Jung-Hyun getting cleaned up and into a set of dry clothes. There wasn’t anything weird about seeing him half-naked all the time. Or well, that’s what you kept trying to convince yourself. But apart from the fact that he still thought you were engaged, which you were, though only technically speaking, you still didn’t know Jung-Hyun very well. You definitely didn’t know him well enough to know how he looked underneath his suit. Additionally, even though you knew it wasn’t cheating, you couldn’t help but think back on Jungkook’s accusation. It was stupid, for you knew to whom your heart belonged and would always belong to. You would always love him.

Jeon Jungkook. Someone you used to despise for being so annoyingly perfect and dismissive and cold. Someone who still irritated you beyond boundaries, but still made your heart race like no other.

You checked your phone. There were no messages or calls missed. The discovery made your chest ache even more than your right hand, which was still feeling the aftermath of the punch. You knew you should get over yourself and contact Jungkook already, if only to ease the guilt you felt over not having broken your engagement with Jung-Hyun. Besides, it was the right thing to do. You had said something horrible at the end of your last conversation. You were responsible for your jealousy and its manifestations.

But why, then, if it was only something as petty and senseless as jealousy that stood between you and Jungkook, why could you not bring yourself to call or text him first? What was it that stopped you from pressing send everytime you typed out a message? What was it that stopped you from calling him everytime you scrolled down your contact list? Was it perhaps because there was more behind your reluctance than just jealousy?

Was it perhaps because you thought there had been more to Jungkook’s anger than just pure mistrust from his part?

You shook your head clear from thoughts. The more you thought about it, the more you thought you would hit something. And now that you were going to help Jung-Hyun wash up, you couldn’t afford losing your left hand.

But seriously, why did love have to be so difficult? Why couldn’t your life have straightened out after you helped Jungkook regain his memories? Wasn’t that an act of good karma?

What did you do in your past life to deserve heartache like this?

When you thought you had found some clothes big enough to fit Jung-Hyun, you returned to the bathroom. Although you tried to forget about your concerns, at least for the moment, you simultaneously found your frustration increasingly hard to ignore. It was like a mosquito bite you knew you shouldn’t scratch if you didn’t want some kind of ugly mark on your skin afterward, but it was simply just too tempting to touch.

However, your thoughts quickly dispersed when you swung open the door to the bathroom.

Jung-Hyun was regarding himself in the mirror, wearing an unreadable expression. His shirt was a bloody pile on the floor, and although his half-nakedness would have been more than distracting to even the most pious of women, partly because of his physique and partly because of his numerous scars, what truly caught your attention was the tattoo on his shoulder. The Hanja for “Son”.

The mark of a member of the Hwan Song Sung Pa.

As if noticing where all of your attention concentrated, Jung-Hyun quickly turned around. A flood of questions threatened to rush out of you all at once, your curiosity woken anew, but you held yourself back. You said nothing as you dropped your father’s clothes on the sink countertop and discarded your wet blazer after first having removed your phone from its inner chest pocket. You felt Jung-Hyun’s eyes on you as you paced around the bathroom in search of different-sized towels, but he, too, remained quiet as you washed your hands.

“Sit down, please,” you told Jung-Hyun as you drew up hot water in the sink. You nearly flinched as your fingers came in contact with the surface. You hadn’t expected your hands to be so cold.

He complied wordlessly and sank down onto the closed lid of the toilet seat.

Against your will, you submerged your hands and one of the hand towels into the hot water. A needle-like pain enveloped your fingers and palms, but as agonizing as it was, it also felt nice experiencing warmth for what felt like the first time that week. However, the pleasant sensation didn’t last for very long.

For the hot water was still a bleak comparison to the endless warmth and comfort of Jungkook’s touch and presence.

“Are you alright?”

It wasn’t until Jung-Hyun’s stiff, somber voice broke the silence that you realized you had gotten lost in thought again. “Sorry,” you said as you lifted the now drenched towel and wrung a majority of the water out of it. “I space out when I’m tired.”

“I’ve noticed that a lot in the office.”

You couldn’t resist letting out a small chuckle. “Hey, that’s mean,” you said and walked over to where Jung-Hyun sat. “You should pretend not to notice. I’m your boss, you know?”

He craned his neck backwards in order to look up at you, who were, for once, taller than him. “Yes, huijang-nim.”

You grimaced, and were just about to protest against his usage of that word when your breath almost caught in the back of your throat. For as soon as you patted the wet towel against his cheek, Jung-Hyun’s eyes fluttered close with a sort of relieved calmness you had never witnessed on his face before. And for some reason, that caused your heart slam harder against the inside of your ribcage. You didn’t know what you felt as you continued to wet his cheek gently, and you didn’t know if you wanted to know.

“How can you be so calm about this?” you asked in an attempt to disturb the sudden shift in atmosphere. “You just got stabbed.”

“Only barely.”

He didn’t open his eyes as he responded, and his voice was a lot quieter than usual, the words leaving his lips in a little more than a whisper. Judging by his tone, it had been meant as a joke, but you were too stunned by his sudden display of vulnerability to acknowledge that.

“Thank you, also.”

“For what?” you wondered.

“For removing him. I didn’t think you did martial arts.”

“I’ve just been on a few boxing classes,” you said hastily. “I don’t know anything more than the basics.”

He opened one eye lazily and gazed up at you. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Impressive.”

You grimaced. You didn’t know if it was a good compliment to receive as a twenty-year-old woman, even less as the chairman of one of the biggest conglomerates in the world. Probably not.

“I’m glad I could help,” you replied as you began patting Jung-Hyun further down his jaw and neck. “Even though it felt like I broke something.”

At this, Jung-Hyun opened both of his eyes. A surprising amount of concern filled them, and he began reaching for your right hand, which you had used to hold the dangling end of the wet towel despite the pain you felt. He paused just before he touched you, and you read the inquiry in his gaze. Your heart picked up its pace, and after a few seconds of silence, you nodded.

Jung-Hyun’s fingers were cold, colder than yours had been just a moment ago. But it didn’t feel altogether bad. They were gentle as they slowly wrapped themselves around your right hand and brought it down for him to visually inspect. Initially, a tiny furrow appeared between his eyebrows as he gazed down at your right hand. But after some time of methodical prodding and touching, his face relaxed and he looked up at you with a shadow of a smile.

“There’s nothing broken,” he told you reassuringly. “Did anything hurt when I touched it?”

“Not more than any other part,” you said after a beat, briefly mesmerized by his smile.

“Good.”

Hesitantly, almost timidly, Jung-Hyun intertwined his fingers through yours. His hand was much larger than yours, nearly swallowing yours in the process, but he was still careful not to put too much pressure around your injured hand. In fact, the cold sensation of his fingers felt nice against the pulsating pain. His fingers felt nice.

“(Y/N)...”

Jung-Hyun was just about to continue when the sound of your phone cut through the air and the suddenly very intimate atmosphere like a hot knife through butter. For a second, you didn’t even register the sound, too caught up in whatever you could call the strange but pleasant mood, caused by the first sign of vulnerability you had ever witnessed in Jung-Hyun. But then, you blinked and darted toward the countertop where you had left your phone while telling yourself to calm your heart - only to inhale sharply at the sight of the caller ID.

Stupid Idiot.

“Give me a sec.”

You were already on your way out, towel tossed aside, phone in hand, when you spoke. Too excited, yet at the same time scared, you didn’t wait to hear Jung-Hyun’s response before you shut the bathroom door behind you. A part of you were admittedly glad to have gotten a valid excuse to put some much needed distance between you.

But a dreadfully large part of you missed the feeling of Jung-Hyun’s cold hands around your hand.

You shook your head. You couldn’t let your mind get distracted right then. Not when you had a chance to apologize for what you told Jungkook earlier that week. Not when he had been the first person to call.

Not when you felt so strongly for him that you sometimes thought your heart might just break.

“Hello?”

You were relieved to hear that your voice sounded somewhat put-together. If Jungkook had called any time earlier, you would have probably sounded half out of your mind due to all the shock and adrenaline triggered by the assassin.

“I need to talk to you.”

Although Jungkook’s familiar voice was somewhat guarded, you sensed that it was laced with anxiousness and something more. Perhaps guilt? Or was it anger? Or were you just imagining it all?

“Okay,” you said slowly as you strode toward your room in an attempt to not be heard by Jung-Hyun. Even if you stayed, you doubted he would know who it was you were talking to, but you didn’t know for how long you could keep your responses neutral. You never knew what sort of responses Jungkook could elicit from you. “I don’t have time right now, though. Can I call you later?”

“I don’t want to talk to you about this over the phone. Are you home?”

Your eyes widened. “Uh… yeah. But--”

“I’m on my way.”

“No, Jungkook!”

Even though the pain threatened to make you cry, you couldn’t help yourself from reflexively balling your right hand into a tight fist. Frustrated at your mistake at calling Jungkook’s name so loudly, you almost didn’t hear his response.

“Why?”

“I told you,” you began hastily, “I don’t have time right now. I honestly won’t have time to call you until tomorrow.”

“What do you do tomorrow then?”

Although it was Saturday, you were heading into the office. Your parents had worked every day for as far as you could remember, as had your grandfather. You weren’t going to be the first in the line of heirs to have a laidback schedule, even though Jung-Hyun and Ju-Min had told you that there were no important meetings over the weekend. Your decision was based more on a sense of duty than obligation, however, for you felt proud over your decision, despite the fact that you weren’t the official chairman and really had no additional tasks. Yet.

“I’ll be at Phoenix Inc.’s Seoul Headquarters,” you answered as you opened the door to your bedroom.

“For how long?”

You closed the door behind you and leaned against it. “From eight to six, probably.”

“Shit,” you heard him mutter before he replied. “Do you really have to be there all day? And during a Saturday?”

“I do.” Unwittingly, you had allowed a sliver of ice to enter your voice. You cleared your throat in an attempt to buy enough time to regain control over your emotions before you continued in a softer tone. “It’s important to me. Please try to understand.”

You thought you heard Jungkook take a deep breath and readied yourself for an explanation, but nothing came. With a slight frown, you pressed the phone closer to your ear. “Jungkook?” you asked. “You there?”

“I am,” he blurted. “I was just checking my schedule again.”

“You don’t have time tomorrow evening,” you guessed.

Jungkook mumbled what could have been another curse. But then, he seemed to abruptly brighten for his voice was amused as he spoke. “I’m busy all weekend,” he said. “But it’s alright. It can wait.”

“Okay,” you said bemusedly.

There was a long pause. You were struggling with the many things you wanted and needed to say, but there were so many of them that you didn’t know how to begin. You wanted to apologize and thank Jungkook for calling, an action you had been unable to muster the bravery for and do yourself. You needed to explain more about Jung-Hyun and his situation, not only because you were deceiving him but also because you felt like you were deceiving Jungkook, too. What was it that had made your heart beat as fast as it had when Jung-Hyun had been so close? Why had his touch felt so nice? What were the feelings that came up when you thought of him?

“(Y/N)?”

You didn’t know if Jungkook had called your name once or twice or more, but you hoped you didn’t sound weird when you answered. “Yeah?”

“You’re busy doing something now, right?”

“Right.” You soaked your lips. “Yeah.”

“I’ll hang up then.”

“Bye,” you said. “But thank--”

The call ended. You stared at your phone for a long while, contemplating whether to text or call Jungkook and thank him for calling as well as apologize for your behavior that Monday. In the end, you decided to do nothing, however. There was still the fact that Jungkook hadn’t explained why he didn’t tell you about Yi-Jae and his duet, a fact that bothered you to no end. And he hadn’t apologized for accusing you of infidelity.

Your fury renewed at just the thought of it, and you were tempted to toss your phone, if only so that you didn’t have to mull over whether to contact Jungkook or not. Fortunately for your phone, you managed to reign in your emotions when you realized just how many minutes had already passed since you had left Jung-Hyun. He had to be cold, and so were you. You had forgotten that your clothes were still soaked. If neither one of you got some hot water treatment and dry fabric on your bodies, you would both accomplish the ridiculous feat of getting a cold in the summer heat.

When you returned to the bathroom, you stumbled upon Jung-Hyun standing in front of the mirror again. This time, he wasn’t regarding his appearance, however. He was in the process of half-heartedly trying to pat himself down with the wet towel while concurrently keeping the gauzes on his hands dry. This made his motions weak and awkward, and you were quick to tear your eyes away from the tattoo on his shoulder and hurry to his side.

“What are you doing?” you exclaimed after you had put aside your phone.

Jung-Hyun glanced at you. “You seemed uncomfortable touching me,” he replied. “And your call seemed important.”

“Still, you should think about your injuries,” you told him firmly and held out your hand. “Give me the towel.”

Jung-Hyun let out a small breath of resignation and obeyed. You gave him a quick smile before you prepared some more hot water in the sink and dipped the cold fabric into it. You then worked as speedily you could, wiping and patting his face, neck, torso and arms until he was warm and clean. You could only feel the worst of his scars through the thickness of the hand towel, but your fingertips glided over scarred tissue enough times to make you nauseous.

“How did you get all of your scars?” you found yourself blurting.

“Through work.”

You raised a brow. “I didn’t think business people were this competitive,” you said, hoping you could steer the conversation in a direction that wouldn’t make him uncomfortable.

Jung-Hyun’s mouth curved. “Have you met your mother?”

You chuckled. “Actually, let’s not joke about that.”

The corners of his lips lifted higher, but he said nothing.

“Could you elaborate what you meant by ‘through work’?” you asked gingerly.

All signs of humour vanished from Jung-Hyun’s face and he stared stonily back at you through the reflection in mirror. You regretted saying anything in the first place, and clenched your jaws as you returned to focus on your task.

When it came to his shoulder and the tattoo, you got the chance to inspect it more closely. The tattoo was simple, really, consisting of nothing more than blank ink, but you couldn’t deny the fear and concern you felt, both for yourself and Jung-Hyun. Why would someone send an assassin after Jung-Hyun? And if you were wrong and the man wasn’t some trained individual, why had he attacked Jung-Hyun? Had he recognized Jung-Hyun from before? Was he just crazy?

And why couldn’t you rid yourself of the feeling that you now also faced some kind of risk?

You felt Jung-Hyun’s gaze grow extra intense in the reflection of the mirror. His attention might have made you a bit self-conscious in normal cases, but this was hardly one of them. You were patting his shoulder absent-mindedly while trying to answer your own questions. Even though you wanted to voice them, you couldn’t bring yourself to. Partly because you didn’t want to pressure him into replying to questions he didn’t want to answer, be it out of fear or concern or whatever.

And partly because you feared what the answers may be.

Occasionally, you switched out the wet hand towel for another one while you worked. A small pile had accumulated next to the sink by the time you were done and reached for a dry bath towel.  

“I can take it from here,” said Jung-Hyun. “Thank you.”

You gathered the wet hand towels and, after some stomach-churning hesitation, also picked up Jung-Hyun’s bloody shirt, which lay discarded next to the door. “It was nothing.”

“No, it was a lot.”

The sincerity behind his words drew your attention, and you peered over your shoulder at him. Jung-Hyun’s face was solemn, but there was a softness to his eyes that blunted his overall expression.

“Thank you for helping me with all of this,” he went on. “And thank you for not calling 119.”

You pursed your lips in concern. “About that… are you sure you want to keep this for yourself?”

“Law enforcement can’t do anything.”

A surprising amount of sardonic cynicism coloured his stiff, somber voice for once. You thought you hinted something more in his eyes, which had turned emotionless again, but you were unable to glean anything else.

“Well, alright,” you started, “but what about your parents? My parents?” You hesitated, but then went for it. “What about Jungkook?”

Jung-Hyun’s eyes widened slightly. “No. Please,” he added when you opened your mouth to speak. “Nobody can know. It’s bad enough that you and Jong-Yeol know.”

You swallowed. “Are we in some kind of danger?”

Jung-Hyun was quiet for an unnervingly long amount of time before he answered.

“No,” he said. “No.”

“But that man, he saw my face.”

Jung-Hyun’s jaw tensed. “I’ll sort this out, I swear it. I will not let you come to harm, no matter what.”

The sudden fervor with which he spoke made a shudder travel down your back. But it wasn’t a bad one. Strangely, and even though he was wounded, Jung-Hyun exuded a sort of unwavering aura of competence that made you want to rely on him. Or perhaps it was only because you had grown to rely on him over the past week in work. Or perhaps it was because he appeared to have a sort of inner calmness, something you were severely lacking in. You were admittedly hot-tempered with a proclivity to take out your frustration through some sort of violent act even though it would hurt you in return. Jung-Hyun, on the other hand, always seemed to be in control of his emotions. You envied and admired him for that.

“Okay,” you said finally. “I’ll assemble the extra bed in the living room. Get dressed meanwhile.”

“You… you still want me to stay?”

“I’m not forcing you,” you blurted as a blush crept past your cheeks.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” said Jung-Hyun, his voice adopting an unusually soft element. “I just wanted to ask to make sure you’re fine with my staying.”

“Of course I’m fine with it,” you said, acting a bit insulted. “I wouldn’t ask you if else, would I?”

The faintest shadow of amusement trickled into his eyes. “No, I guess not.”

“Exactly,” you said, and started to leave.

“Wait, tell me where everything is and I’ll handle it. You should go take a shower. You’ve helped me enough.”

You glanced down at yourself, having forgotten your own sorry state once again. “Oh, right. Okay, listen here…”

After explaining where the foldable bed was as well as where he could grab the extra blankets and pillows, you found yourself stifling a yawn. “There’s ramen in one of the kitchen cupboards,” you finished. “You could order food, too. Do whatever you feel like. Except for smoking. You’ll have to leave the building for that.”

“Are you not hungry?”

“Not really,” you said truthfully. “I’m going to bed as soon as I’m clean.”

“I see.”

Jung-Hyun looked as if though he had something more to say, and that he was wrestling with himself. But in the end, he remained quiet and you left the bathroom with a parting smile.

Sleep came swift that night, but it felt as if dawn arrived almost as quickly as dusk had. You were stifling your umpteenth yawn that morning as Jong-Yeol came with the car. Thankfully, he didn’t say much on your way to the office, but he did stop you just before you exited the vehicle outside the front of Phoenix Inc.’s Seoul Headquarters.

“How’s Jung-Hyun?” he asked.

“He’s alright,” you said honestly.

“Why isn’t he with you?”

Judging by his tone, Jong-Yeol seemed to have taken for granted that Jung-Hyun stayed the night. And while that was true, you couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed since you had told Jong-Yeol that you ended your engagement with Jung-Hyun for Jungkook, something you had actually not yet done. You hoped Jong-Yeol wouldn’t think you were playing some kind of game.

“I didn’t want to wake him,” you replied. Jung-Hyun hadn’t even stirred while you were up and about getting ready for the day. “He seemed exhausted.”

“You do, too.”

“I’m alright,” you said and smiled.

After exchanging goodbyes, you headed into the building. The enormous foyer was nearly empty, and the calm beating of your heart seemed audible in the silence that dominated the cool air. By now, you knew how to reach your father’s office, which had become your default place of work, without much delay, and you unlocked the double doors leading into it by 8.32.

Stacks of files and papers balanced on top of the desk, untouched from yesterday. You sank down with a weary exhale and unceremoniously started shuffling between the documents you had read and the ones you knew you would have to reread, a stack that grew with each paper you surveyed. Now, you weren’t going to lie, it was tedious work and you were close to falling asleep at least a dozen times. Your right hand still hurt, and each time it did, you kept thinking back on all the blood and the unknown man and Jung-Hyun, which made it even harder to focus. The minutes ticked by like hours, and even though you went out to grab some much needed coffee, you couldn’t battle your boredom for very long.

That’s why you were extra shocked when the desk phone rang.

Initially, you froze upon hearing the sound, not knowing what to do. It felt as if though you were playing adult again, that you were just some kid sitting in their father’s chair at work while he was off visiting the bathrooms or something. But then, you caught yourself and picked up the phone.

“Yeah?” you said tentatively.

“It’s the front office, huijang-nim,” said a polite female voice that you didn’t recognize. “There’s a young man here who claims he knows you and is here to see you.”

You frowned. You didn’t know any young men. Unless…

“Is he wearing a white oversized T-shirt?” you asked.

“Eh, no,” she said before she lowered her voice. “Would you like to know what he’s wearing, huijang-nim?”

You smacked yourself in the face. “No! It’s alright, I just--I mean, no, it’s nothing.” You were glad she couldn’t see how you were fumbling with your words. “Or well, could you lend him the phone?”

“Certainly, huijang-nim.”

After some faint murmuring, you spoke. “Hello?”

“(Y/N)?”

“Jungkook?” you exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you yesterday, I need to talk to you.”

He sounded amused, but you weren’t. “Yeah, but what if someone recognizes you? And shouldn’t you be off practicing or doing something with your group members?”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Jungkook!”

“I brought coffee and a muffin.”

You glanced at your empty plastic cup and sighed. “Give her back the phone.”

“Yes, huijang-nim?”

“Would you be so kind and escort him to my office?” you wondered. “I’m in the middle of something right now.”

Frankly, you weren’t, but you were too fatigued to take the elevator down. Besides, you didn't know what Jungkook thought he was doing there, but the less eyes that saw him together with you, the better. You could only pray that the receptionist didn’t recognize him.

“Right away, huijang-nim.”

If time seemed to have passed slowly earlier, it truly trickled by during your wait. Your heart was beating too fast for you to be able to concentrate on the letters and numbers in front of you, and it only got worse as you heard the door handle twist. However, as soon as the door opened and the familiar figure of Jeon Jungkook came in view, it stopped.

Wearing something so unusual as a shirt and a pair of dress pants, you kind of got the feeling that he had made an effort with his appearance. That impression was strengthened when you saw that he had fixed his hair and wore various accessories. In your opinion, he always looked good no matter what he wore, but you couldn’t deny the fact that he was extra handsome right then and there. Handsome enough to steal the first word.

“Hey,” he said as he shut the door after him, a small, hesitant smile spreading across his lips. He held up a paper bag with a coffee shop brand plastered on it in his right hand. “I’ve got your coffee and muffin right here.”

All the anger and annoyance that might have piled up ever since your abrupt separation that Monday clashed immediately with all your sense of longing. There was an uncharacteristic lightness to your steps as you rose from the chair and approached him, but you had to ball your hands into fists as not to yell at him straight away.

“Thanks,” you said stiffly, and after an uncomfortably long amount of time had passed. By then, you had reached him where he stood and grabbed the bag from him. He didn’t say anything, and neither did you until you had returned to your chair. “You can sit here,” you said as you gestured at the chair on the other side of the desk.

Jungkook’s large, familiar brown eyes inspected every corner of your father’s office as he slowly walked toward the desk, clearly impressed by the interior. You took out the muffin and iced americano from the paper bag, but you touched neither one of them. Instead, you simply waited for him to sit.

“Jungkook,” you began after he had sank down onto the chair. “What’s so important you couldn’t even text me before showing up?”

Jungkook’s faint smile had faded since long, and his voice was solemn as he replied. “I came to apologize,” he said and lowered his gaze. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what I said. What I accused you of.”

You pursed your lips as the recollection made your heart ache, and said nothing. There were no words that could accurately described just how furious he had made you.

Jungkook was quiet, too, and seemingly nervous if his shaking knee was any indication. His gaze remained locked onto the surface of the desk as he finally continued. “It wasn’t right,” he said slowly. “I just became so… angry. I didn’t even think about what I had said until it was out.”

“You could have taken it back,” you blurted. “You could have apologized earlier.”

He furrowed his brows. “I could have, but I didn’t know what to say after… you know.”

You swallowed. You knew. However much you would like to blame Jungkook as the catalyst and the reason your argument had derailed so quickly that Monday, you knew it wasn’t the truth. You had known it then, you knew it even more now.

“About that…” Your attention drifted sideways. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that either. I was just so…”

“Jealous?”

“Yes,” you admitted after a while. “I was jealous. I… I still am.”

“Me too.”

You turned back to Jungkook and found him already regarding you. Again, an overwhelming urge to both scream as well as embrace him filled your system, causing you to just freeze and do neither. You couldn’t believe just how easy it was for him to manipulate your emotions, and worst of all, you didn’t think he did it willingly. If he did, at least you could take out your frustration. At least you could accuse him of toying with your feelings. At least you could blame him for all the injuries sustained by your poor heart.

At least you could hate him for making you love him so much.

But now you couldn’t. And so, you didn’t even question yourself as you slowly got to your feet. You didn’t even know what you were doing as you circled the desk until you were next to Jungkook. He appeared momentarily stunned, and did nothing but follow you with his gaze as you leaned down until your lips hovered right above his. Your heart had ceased its frantic beating once again, and both of you had stopped breathing altogether.

For a moment that could have been a mere second or several long years, the two of you simply stared into each other’s eyes. For a moment, all you smelled was the scent of soap, warmth and something uniquely Jungkook. For a moment, the world and your concerns fell away like sand between your fingers.

And for a moment, you closed your eyes and kissed Jeon Jungkook like nothing else mattered.

Warmth. Delicious, tantalizing warmth. The kind of warmth you hadn’t realized you had always wished for. The kind of warmth that nothing in the whole world could match.

The kind of warmth that only Jungkook could give you.

When you withdrew, you were out of breath. Your cheeks were flushed, and you couldn’t believe how rapidly your poor heart was racing. You were proud of yourself, but also terribly embarrassed, and you couldn’t bear to open your eyes and look at him.

“Sorry,” you whispered, feeling your breath bounce back against your lips due to the close proximity between your faces. “I didn’t mean to do that all of a sudden.”

“That… was long fucking overdue.”

Your eyes fluttered open in surprise when Jungkook all of a sudden pressed his lips against yours. Your shock was soon replaced with pleasure, however, as he rose and grasped your face between his fingers in order to kiss you even harder, and your eyes drifted shut within seconds as you allowed yourself to enjoy the sensation of his desire. For there was a greedy hunger to every kiss, every touch, a kind of bottomless, ferocious hunger you had never expected from someone as perfect and controlled as Jungkook.

And you didn’t mind it. Not one bit.

You dug your fingers into his hair, probably hard enough to hurt his scalp, and kissed him back with just as much fervor. Jungkook let out a small noise that could have been a growl or moan or a mixture of both, and you felt your knees weaken. He continued to move against you, removing whatever space there had been between you, and before you knew it, the back of your legs bumped against the edge of your father’s desk. You thought this would make Jungkook stop, but he startled you by continuing to kiss you and push you until you were forced sit down so that you wouldn’t topple backward. And even then, he didn’t seem satisfied.

Jungkook’s hands slid down the sides of your body, stopping only when they reached your naked knees, which were exposed underneath the tight lining of your skirt hem. A fiery thread spread from your toes all the way to your face as he gently squeezed your thighs, and you couldn’t deny the exhilarating feeling that his touches and kisses ignited within you. There was suddenly too much fabric covering you, covering Jungkook, and your hands slid down his face and broad shoulders until they reached the buttons of his shirt. He moaned again as your nails accidentally scraped the skin on his chest during your desperate endeavor to touch more of him. The sound was so sensual, so uninhibited, you thought you would go crazy with lust.

But you didn’t. For just as you were about to release your last ounce of control, a voice roused you from the almost trancelike state of yearning and passion Jungkook’s kisses and touches had plunged you in.

A voice belonging to no other than Jeon Jung-Hyun.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Banter Masterlist

2011 (ao3) - outphan

Summary: Dan and Phil move in together.

A Little Space (ao3) - macdell

Summary: Phil gets invited to a cousin's wedding. Dan comes, too.

A refined twink (ao3) - R3ad3r1

Summary: Dan comes back home from a panel and he is cross as he overheard somebody calling him a refined twink.

attention wins your affections and oh, how i love it so (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Dan and Phil dog-sit a friend's dog and Dan realises just how much Phil acts like a dog with how he expresses affection and Dan falls a little bit more in love.

bonus prize (ao3) - silentdescant

Summary: Dan got a question wrong on Phil's quiz. He still wants a prize.

canon in d (ao3) - danhoweiis

Summary: dan goes out to a bar and a stranger buys him a drink. what happens next may surprise you! [not clickbait]

'cause you are home to me (ao3) - overmyhead

Summary: soon to be reunited homosexual homeowners and all the pheels.

Flatmates (ao3) - intoapuddle

Summary: oh my god they were flatmates / the fuckboy!phil au we all deserve

Fuck Your Cereal (ao3) - cyanica

Summary: Four times Dan got justice for his cereal, and one time where Phil won their prank war using a person's certain first video... that's still on the internet for some reason.

Game Night (ao3) - LetterJumble

Summary: The five times Phil won game night, and the one time it didn’t matter.

i jump for my phone every moment it lights up (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Dan left YouTube behind to become an actor, but years later when coronavirus hits and forces him into self-imposed quarantine he rediscovers an old passion of his - AmazingPhil. He hadn't counted on becoming internet friends with him, or falling in love for that matter.

i'm half doomed and you're semi sweet (ao3) - gothfob

Summary: “Does it sound pathetic if I say I missed you?” Dan murmurs into his skin, his hands flirting with the hem of Phil’s shirt and pushing it up his back.

“Not anymore than usual.” Phil teases, running a hand through Dan’s hair and tilting his chin up with the other. Dan kind of looks like he wants to slap him across the face, but he brings their lips together and feels Dan melt against him. He grins into it, feeling triumphant.

“Say you missed me back.” Dan pouts, crossing his arms in front of his chest and falling back on the bed petulantly.

it's fashion, babe (ao3) - karcathy

Summary: In which Dan persuades Phil to try on some of his merch, and both of them are stupid about it.

Kindness (at the End) (ao3) - lovestillaround

Summary: A story about the Christmas Eve, a wooden chest left by Phil on the kitchen table, and a mission to get the key.

lazy morning (ao3) - itsmyusualphannie (itsmyusualweeb)

Summary: phil is a good bf and makes breakfast for dan. dan repays him by jumpscaring him. (then dan makes up for it)

phil will never finish his coffee at this rate

Love me (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: Dan is cute and he knows it, and he really wants his boyfriends attention. So he decides to annoy Phil until he gets what he wants.

....

Dan loudly clears his throat, “Um excuse me? Yeah your cute boyfriend is right here and asking for attention.” He over-dramatically gestures to himself.

Nuance (ao3) - JudeAraya

Summary: Dan's plan to surprise Phil with something sexy goes a little sideways.

of tea leaves and coincidences (ao3) - dakogutin

Summary: Sometimes the universe has creative ways to prove its powers.

or

Phil is a firm believer of cosmic forces and signs. Dan isn’t.

Phil Who? (ao3) - CanDanAndPhilNot (enbycalhoun)

Summary: Phil gets amnesia and his husband, Dan, tries to help him remember. Aka my knowledge of amnesia consists of the movie Overboard, and that one episode of Full House so don't come for me.

Pictionary Proposal (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: Dan is with his family in France and Phil is planning to propose when he returns home.

Pressing Business (ao3) - TeddyAsInLupin (TeddyMedley)

Summary: Dan and Phil iron some clothes as they pack last-minute. Banter occurs.

Pumpkin Spice (ao3) - ThoughtaThought

Summary: You remember how I left you on the verge of smut in Chapter 3 of Pumpkin Pride? Here ya go, here's that smut.

Winter 2009

Dan: 18

Phil: 22

"Read the room Mum" -Daniel Howell (ao3) - MistressDistress

Summary: Based on Dan's line, "Read the room Mum" in the youtube live he was recently in talking bout video calling.

security! (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Dan comes home to Phil after tour rehearsals. They cook, kiss and banter. And Dan reflects on the word "security".

smiled, and it was perfect (ao3) - winstonlives

Summary: Dan and Phil in Jamaica on a youtuber trip. Their relationship is still pretty young, but the love is real. So are the bugs.

The Innkeeper's Son (ao3) - whataqueerfish

Summary: In which teenage Dan is dragged along on a family vacation and ends up meeting some scary trees, an angry moth, and the boy of his dreams

The Winter Birds (Have Come Back Again) (ao3) - your_starless_eyes

Summary: The act of being cold itself is not so unusual. He’s sharing a bed with Phil “The Heat Vampire” Lester, for Christ’s sake. Somehow, Phil always manages to zap every ounce of warmth in Dan’s body and then snatch all the blankets. It’s an… endearing quality.

This is a different kind of cold though — one that’s stemming from the air around him rather than Phil’s icy skin.

OR

That one Reverse Bang fic in which the heating goes out and a lot of banter happens.

This Guy (ao3) - Snowflurryflake

Summary: This guy! Seriously.

That says it all, doesn't it?

through the six (ao3) - waveydnp

Summary: dan and phil enjoy a little bit of connected solitude. just a happy fic inspired by dnp's breakfast bants texts

or

the 'and you want it with me?' 'yee' fic, because. yeah.

Tracing Constellations (ao3) - Tarredion

Summary: Two 6-foot men cuddling in a single armchair doesn't sound like a good idea.

It isn't, but dan and phil do almost anything for intimacy...

watermelon sugar high (ao3) - itsmyusualphannie (itsmyusualweeb)

Summary: Dan is the son of Hades, god of the Underworld, while Phil is the son of Hebe, goddess of youth and vitality. They couldn't be more different, but somehow they're friends (and maybe a little more).

When Opposites Attract (ao3) - confettiwrites

Summary: Dan doesn’t do a lot but sit around on his laptop until one night, at a party hosted by Dan’s brother, a guy dressed in oddly creative clothing stumbles into Dan’s room and suggests they go out on an overnight adventure.

[dreams-of-valeria]

CHAPTER FOUR

| Series: The Glass Cage Epidemic | Pairing: Evan Peters OC x FOC | Warnings: Obscene language, smut | Word count: 2,002 | Rated: Explicit | Book mentioned: Piranesi by Susanna Clarke |

I can’t remember when exactly, but we ended up in bed at some point. I was exhausted. If he was, he didn’t show it. Because as soon as we’d gone a couple rounds and then some, his phone buzzed again before we could speak. Not that I wanted to, specifically. Pillow talk was vain and simply the means to an end. I think regular people required a bridge between sex and sleep for some reason and vulnerable talk somehow made the cut? Why did pop culture romanticize it so? What was it about the mutual exchange of a good time that warranted some lovey dovey follow up?

I was never into it, clearly. I remember Todd was almost insulted that I jumped right back into experimenting with new rum cake recipes right after we fucked. It was like his entire existence as a privileged white male (aka white male) had told him in no unclear terms that women would be an outpour of emotion after a pathetic 3 minutes of dick-taking. I didn’t mind bursting his bubble at all. If anything, it brought me joy to let him know what real women comfortable with themselves were like.

It took me a long while to work on myself and like who I was. Mainstream feminism told me that girls had to like serious things to be taken seriously. So I dropped everything floral and traditionally feminine and pretended to be really into heavy metal. But years later and following several personal experiences, I had struck the right balance.

So no, I was not upset that he chose work. The question was redundant. He’d stated his intentions and I was savvy.

I watched him through the glass door of the balcony, as he gestured with his hands as he spoke, dressed only in his boxer shorts on a September night. It was insane how toasty he was. Probably the only downside to not being able to cuddle. To be honest, it surprised me that he wanted to sleep over at all. I fully expected him to leave the second he came. Was the decision to stay over a result of the way other women had reacted to his blatant sexual appetite followed by sudden departure? I cannot imagine they were as amicable as I was.

I wondered about these women before me, perhaps even parallel to me. He said they weren’t vapid. To what extent? On par with me? Sub? Sur? Did he make a mental ranking list of all his exploits?

I stopped my bullet train of thought after that. The last thing I needed was to hyperfixate on him. Not only would I lose the prospect of boning a fine specimen who actually knew female anatomy, but it would also not be healthy for me. Not again.

He was still on the call, albeit seated, after I’d showered and changed, and finally decided to read the book. I knew I said I didn’t care if we spoke after sex, but I didn’t want to sleep when he was still up. What if he needed socks or something? I was just being a good host. Like on cue, I saw him shiver just a tiny bit synced with the wind chimes singing. I grabbed the fleece comforter from the bed end table, knocked on the glass once and draped it around his shoulders. He seemed confused, but jumped right back into the conversation without missing a beat. I noticed the cadence of his voice was different when he spoke on the phone.

I tiptoed across the cold floor and draped myself in the comforter, and nestled in for some speed reading. An old woman reading War and Peace on the subway had taught me that once. As a teen, I was intimidated by big books that had slow beginnings. But once I’d crossed the 100 page mark, there was no turning back. Unfortunately, my bane of seeing everything as goals that needed to be accomplished extended to books alike. But I still enjoyed them greatly.

And so I returned to lonesome Piranesi and his secret message.

I only looked at Atticus one time after that, as he pulled the fleece close and smiled.

After half an hour or so, the squeak of the sliding glass door pulled me out from my reading.

“Why haven’t you gone to bed yet?” He sounded exhausted, but not physically like me. Had the call taken a toll on him?

“I wasn’t sleepy so I thought I’d finish this,” I lied smoothly, as he climbed in on my left with the signature scowl on his face. I’d grown quite fond of it by then. He looked like a brooding child.

“How close?” His voice perked up and he looked at me with expectant brown eyes as he tucked himself in.

“Couple pages. I don’t mean to pry, but was that work?”

He sighed deep. “Yep.”

I let a moment pass before asking, “Everything ok?”

“Yeah, we have an audit coming up and everyone I work with is incompetent so I’m training them to feign competence one grunt at a time.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It is,” he said and rubbed his eyes.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Actually I’d rather hear you read the last two pages to me.” he said and sunk his head into the pillows, drawing the sheets up till his nose. “Will you do that for me, Cleodora?”

Huge, gorgeous brown eyes looked up at me. It made me giggle.

“Of course. And just Cleo is fine.”

“You got it, Cleodora,” he blinked dramatically, pulling another giggle from me. This was the same man who ordered me to ‘say Daddy’s name’ as he made me come with his hand an hour ago?

Trippy.

I began reading.

“This afternoon I walked through the city, making for a café where I was to meet Raphael. It was about half-past two on a day that had never really got light.”

His head lolled to the side, and for some reason, my hands thought it was the perfect time to rub his head to sleep. It felt natural. He said nothing. A moment later, he leaned into my hand.

“It began to snow. The low clouds made a grey ceiling for the city; the snow muffled the noise of the cars until it became almost rhythmical; a steady, shushing noise, like the sound of tides beating endlessly on marble walls.

I thought he was asleep but I kept reading until I reached the end. “The Beauty of the House is immeasurable; its Kindness infinite.”

His breathing was steady and he hadn’t said anything. I removed my hand. Almost instantly, he asked sleepily, “The end?”

“The end.” I echoed, placing the book on the nightstand and sinking in flat beside him.

“Well?” Came his reply from underneath the sheets.

“I still think it’s about loneliness.” I admitted.

His eyes opened, hooded but alert. He drew the covers off his face and watched me intently. The dim light of the lamp behind me illuminated the crests and dips of his face, so many minuscule valleys that were unexplored. But I didn’t feel like I’d missed out. I felt opportune. I knew for certain I had time.

“I think the House was a reflection of his mind’s slow descent into madness and the loss of his individuality. He’s deluded from years of solitude and his mind’s gotten so accustomed to pain that he can’t live without it anymore. That’s why he wants to return to the House. Loneliness and pain is his brain’s hardwired new normal so he doesn’t know or doesn’t want to know about anything else but what he’s used to.”

“So he prefers an agonising limbo because that’s all he's known.”

“Or, all he remembers.”

Something changed in his face at that, but before I could decode it, it was gone. Atticus then placed a soft kiss on my lips, before turning away and falling asleep.

I didn’t wake up curled in his arms or embraced in his body heat. I woke up on my side of the bed, and he was fast asleep with his back to me on the other edge.

There was no real reason for me to imagine a picture perfect morning with him. I barely knew him. And contrary to popular belief, cuddling and sleeping is not comfortable. There’s only so long you can go trying to sync your breathing to get some sleep. So yeah, I preferred this.

At least that’s what I told myself as I headed to the kitchen and got started on breakfast. I didn’t know if he’d stay that long, but I was going to offer anyway.

I kept it simple, made some nut loaded (walnuts exempted) power muffins that my mom used to. The memories of school morning wafted into my brain up through my nose. I smiled.

It’s been said over and over again but we really don’t know how good we have it until it’s gone. I rang her as the oven whirred, pretending to ask for a recipe. My mom still lived in my childhood home in Oregon. When I’d decided culinary business was the way for me, downtown Oregon was unfortunately not the best real estate for one. I’d offered to make it a family business, but my mom had declined, preferring to stay back with our dog now that I was finally out of the house.

I chuckled as she recounted a conversation about a diva cup she’d overheard at a supermarket. I missed her blind positivity. She beat me to my question of asking if she was taking care of herself, going at length about how skinny I was getting. I promised her I was still plump enough to her liking and hung up with an I love you.

“Your mom?”

I started at that, and spun around to find him dressed yet again in his suit, and booted up.

“Yeah,” I smiled reminiscently. He seemed to struggle with what to say next, like he was considering if he should just let the moment pass unsaid.

“You’re not staying?” I couldn’t keep the disappointment out of my voice.

“No,” he smiled tight and glanced at his shoes. “I don’t usually sleep over either.”

“Then why did you?”

He shrugged, tilting his head to the side.

“The review. Right. Wasn’t it disappointing?” I asked as I poured him some coffee. He stepped closer.

“If anything, it was the opposite.”

Our eyes met briefly, and I stopped myself from asking when we’d see each other again. I wordlessly handed him the cup. He hesitated again.

“I should really get going. I have the audit today.”

“Right,” I sighed, hugging the rejected cup to myself. “You still haven’t told me where you worked.”

He chuckled, fingering the cuff links on his left sleeve. Why did he feel awkward? Was it at my expense? I wanted no part in it. Suddenly, I wanted him out.

“Leaving it a mystery, got it.” I shot a finger gun at him and headed for the door before him. After I opened it, he hesitated again. I pretended not to notice and stared at the floor instead.

Before he could walk out, Atticus cupped my face, angled his face with mine and kissed me. Not like a love tap, but a full, open mouthed kiss. I could taste the wintergreen mouthwash on his breath, the same one from my bathroom. His hands slid down to cup the crest of my butt and my hands flew around his neck. I fantasised he’d say something like screw work and make love to me until we got hungry.

But he broke off from me, said goodbye and left the apartment.

Outside, Atticus glanced up at the sign that said Cleo’s in a pleasing retro cursive font as he dialled his therapist.

“Dr. Wesley’s office.”

“Hey, Allison, I need to see him today.”

“He’s not in till 10.”

“It’s important.”