#i am the epitome of kindness i am love. ignore the blood please

[aniisol]

guy who is trying his best to be mean and failing versus guy who thinks he's very nice and kind but is actually not

[lord-explosion-baku]

Socks (For Lack of a Better Title)

Mirio x F!Reader

Warnings: yellow sour fruit, swearing (??)

A/N: I do not write for Mirio basically because he’s the epitome of sunshine and I don’t think I’d be able to grasp that well enough (he’s too good for me!!!), but I had a small smut idea for him and it’s a very special guy’s birthday. I love them and they deserve the world, but I can’t give them the world so they can take my smut.

“A sub??”

You ignore your other slack-jawed peers sitting around in the same circle you’re in and take a sip out of your bottle, keeping stern eye contact with Mirio Togata, who’s staring at you incredulously because you’ve just deemed him a submissive. You let the frothy liquid slip down your throat and smack your lips, as if to point out that you haven’t said anything too out of this world. You repeat yourself with even more nonchalant confidence with a shrug. “Sub.”

“I think I can kinda see it,” says Kirishima who sits perpendicular to you, but it seems that he’s only trying to back you up because nobody else will. Mirio looks to him, mouth agape, but he keeps his smile present. Pink dusts his cheeks, either from the beer or your accusation. It’s cute and you stand by your point.

“I don’t think so,” Mirio finally chides, taking a swig of his beverage. He looks to his socks, then to you, and you lift a brow.

“Care to dispute my claim?” you say, taking a business-like approach, as if you’re in civil court and your friends around you are the judge and jury.

“Sure,” he says, “I think I’m pretty dominant.”

“Do you have witnesses?” You slap back without thinking, and your friends around you snicker. You don’t actually want to know if Mirio has slept with anyone in the room. In fact, you hope he hasn’t. You and the ex-permeation user have been growing closer if the past couple weeks, and you haven’t been too sure what that closeness entails besides sporadic boba runs and last minute studious cramming. Since the incident that’s left him quirkless, you’ve made it a point to let him know how important he is to you, and you’ve feared that maybe, while trying to be there for him, you’ve made it seem like your relationship is nothing more than platonic. Still, he’s never talked about girls and you’ve never asked, but you’ve mostly hoped that maybe you could be the girl he talks to other people about.

“I’m innocent until proven guilty!”

“That’s exactly my point! You’re innocent. You seem like the kind of guy that would ask permission before doing anything.”

“Is it so bad to be a gentleman?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just think you’d have an easier time if someone else held the reigns and guided you.” You pause, trying to think of the perfect thing to equate Mirio to, and your face lights up when you come up with, “a puppy! You’re like a Labrador retriever. Ready to please and receive commands and such…”

“Okay, I can definitely see that,” Kirishima, who’s quickly becoming one of your favorite friends, chimes in.

“A puppy.” Mirio considers this, mouth pushed to the side in that cute way it goes whenever he’s thinking hard about something. He decides not to battle that, instead turning back to you, and asks, “then what do you think you are? A dom?”

Another wave of snickers bounce around the room and you can’t understand them. Is the idea that wild? You don’t think you come off as someone more passive, but until that moment, you hardly considered yourself a dominant either. Now you can, if only to spite your doubtful friends.

“Sure! I would say that I am!”

“What makes you a dom, and me a sub? I’m not doubting you,” Mirio says, though the tone of his voice suggests otherwise, “but I am curious!”

“For one thing, it would mean that the two of you are compatible.” Yaoyorozu, who mostly stays silent during these kinds of discussions, nods to you. You could either kiss her or kill her. She’s dealt with you mooning over Mirio plenty of times in the past, so her adding that in might’ve done a good service for you, planting the idea of you and Mirio together in his head, but you’re now the physical embodiment of the monkey-covering-his-eyes emoji.

“A dom that’s been nursing a beer for the last hour and a half…” you hear someone who’s having a different conversation say. As if your drinking habits have anything to do with you in bed.

“I wanna hear what Ms. Lightweight has to say about this issue.” Mirio grins at you and you can tell that he finds your flushed face amusing. You’re so embarrassed that you can’t even remember your real reason for calling Mirio a sub to begin with!

Throwing any hope of sounding intelligent out the window, you point at Mirio’s feet. “Mr. Togata is wearing socks, your honor.”

The room goes silent. You hear a silent, “socks?” from some faceless individual outside your vision.

You continue, scrambling, “a true dom would make a decision: keep their shoes on or take everything else off. It’s the indecision that says Mirio would’ve done much better if he had someone else instructing him.”

Mirio looks to his socks and you can almost see an exclamation point above his head. You might’ve made a valid point by the looks of it, and he doesn’t say anything more when he sees you wearing your shoes, thank goodness.

Someone says they’re through talking about socks and shoes and the conversation moves to a topic more interesting to the masses. You can’t help but still feel a bit flushed. Two out of five times you look Mirio’s way, you catch him staring at you. Of the remaining three times, he catches you staring at him, and the sixth time both of your eyes meet seemingly at the same time, he smiles. It’s not the same smile he shares with the group for when Denki Kaminari says something stupid. This smile is warm and genuine, with a hint of curiosity.

You make a decision to get up and excuse yourself, explaining the the one beer you nursed throughout the night has made you sleepy. You brush off friendly objections and make your way to the stairs. You don’t go up before looking back at Mirio who holds the same curious expression he did before. You part your lips and climb the stairs. You hope he doesn’t know how embarrassed you are.

Once you’re in your room, you make no rush to get ready for bed. You’re not actually all that sleepy; you just spent too much time around everyone else when you really would rather have just been with Mirio. You think about texting him— maybe he’ll wanna see a movie tomorrow, but as soon as you decide against it, there’s a knock at the door.

It’s Mirio, a sockless Mirio, leaning against your doorframe. You furrow your brows, but before you can speak, he says, “I’m here to dispute your claim.”

Your cheeks grow hot. He can’t mean… he can’t really mean… anything by that. Could he? You’re so struck with bewilderment that you don’t even realize you step to the side to let him in until he’s gliding past you. You close the door and hear a surprising click! You did that, but you don't remember making the decision to lock your door.

Your room has never really seemed too small to you, not until you see Mirio standing in the middle of it, talking in all that is you: your thoughtless tchotchkes, your messy bedspread, your various posters, until finally his eyes land on your bookcase.

You don’t know why you’re suddenly so embarrassed about the collection you’ve got going on. You’ve got Paula Fox and Khaled Housseini— books that you could speak endlessly about, though at the bottom shelf, you have books that you read in middle school that you choose to ignore, but haven’t wanted to part with.

You step in front of him with intention, but Mirio is so much bigger than you, and he still manages to read out loud, “Broadway Musicals of the 1980’s?”

Your blood boils. “You wanted to… dispute your claim?” you urge, trying to draw his attention away from anything other than your books, but Mirio isn’t having it, probably sensing your embarrassment. He has to get you back somehow.

“You’ve got… quite a few books about musicals…”

you clear your throat. “Your claim?”

“In a moment— what’s this?” Mirio reaches around you, his arm just barely brushing against your stomach. You swallow harshly, bringing yourself into full defensive mode, because you know what he sees: a bottom shelf book about vampires that you failed to put back on the bottom shelf!

“I love musicals!” You admit, turning to face your bookshelf. You seat his hand back and you’re too aware of how close he is behind you. Your heart flutters, very unlike a dom, but he isn’t allowed to see the look on your face.

“Do you?” He asks with genuine curiosity. It could have easily been something to tease you about, but he doesn’t. Instead, he asks you to talk about your favorites, particularly the ones from that damned book, your lifeline.

You speak. He listens, only asking a few questions about things he’s genuinely curious about. You wonder if he actually came to your room to do anything, or if he just wanted to check in on you... because he’s your friend and a good one at that.

Your breath catches when he snakes his arms around your waist. You feel a chill while he moves his face through your hair to find your neck, and suddenly you’re jelly as lips press against your skin. He kisses the junction between your neck and shoulder, large hands squeezing your sides and you think you’ve lost your sense of sight, the second thing to go after you find yourself unable to speak.

Mirio grins against you, lips brushing farther up your neck. You allow your eyes to close and lean your head to the side, granting him more room for his lips to roam. You try to steady your breathing, but it’s heavy; you’re too obvious and Mirio knows you’re trying not to sigh.

“Keep talking,” he purrs, fanning your ear with warm breath, but it’s not him. At least, it’s not the Mirio you know. This Mirio’s voice is deeper, aggravatingly alluring, dark and husky— a fantasy you didn’t know you had come to life.  “I wanna know more about 42nd Street.”

You’re certain he’s teasing you now and you want to be mad about it, but you can’t. It’s sweet that he’s paying more attention to your words than you are. You could keep talking after you’ve gained some ounce of composure. Hell, you could babble his ear off until the two of you lose the mood and decide to do something else to pass the time. You have board games— you could easily beat him at a game of battleship, but will you truly be winning if things escalated to battleship? Figuratively speaking, you could keep speaking until Mirio eventually trails his hands down past the hem of your pants, but, figuratively speaking, that would mean he’d win. He’d be the dom making a mess of you while you held no power, and you aren’t going to let that happen.

Screw battleship. You had a boat right behind you and you’re going to steer it.

You turn abruptly to face him. This catches him off guard for a split second and you use that to your advantage. You reach up to the back of his head, grab a fist full of his surprisingly soft, not-so-gelled hair, push yourself up against him, and your lips collide with his like stormy waves crashing against unsuspecting beaches. Mirio’s quick to grip onto you from behind, pulling your body flush against his hardened chest. He’s warm and you feel good pressed against him. It’s not fair. It’s not fair because it’s not enough.

You run your tongue along his— he doesn't taste like beer like you expect him to. He tastes faintly like Colgate washed out a couple times, and a more prominent minty flavor. You grin against his lips. He must’ve stopped by his dorm to brush his teeth before he came to you. He wants to taste good for you and he does, but he doesn’t want you to know that he wants you to think he tastes good.

You eye your bed, the goal. Your hands slide down to his shoulders and you add a bit of pressure onto him, trying to push him back all the while you struggle to deepen your kiss is far too apparent. Trying to move Mirio is similar to trying to move a mountain. He pulls away, eyebrows raised, with a complacent grin that tells you he enjoys watching your struggle. You huff.

In a higher, more loving voice, Mirio asks, “what is it, girl?” while cupping your cheek with his large hands, and you vaguely recall comparing him to a Labrador retriever while you tried to explain yourself earlier. You scowl back at the motionless mountain and his grin widens. He brushes his thumb against your pursed lips. “What do you need? You may speak”

Even though you know Mirio is only taking on this contemptuous persona to prove a point, it infuriates you. Frustrated, you leap up at him, wrapping your legs around his torso, and striking. him with another deep, impassioned kiss. He stumbles back a bit, and you think that maybe you could win, but the sturdy Mirio catches himself with one leg, pushes back, and slams you into the book case.

You gasp at the short pain pinching your back, but it’s nothing compared to the sensuous feeling of Mirio’s desperate lips grazing your neck. You moan, one hand holding onto Mirio’s muscular shoulders, while the other grips the second highest level of your bookshelf. Paula Fox falls to the floor, followed by Khaled Housseini, and you couldn’t care less.

You find yourself craving more of his touch, more of his warmth, more of his skin, so you grip onto his jacket and usher it off of him. Mirio holds you up one handedly while his free hand rips through your blouse, the buttons of your shirt scattering to the floor to dance around Fox and Housseini. You knot your fingers into the back of his shirt and whine. In the position you’re in, you won’t be able to get his damn shirt off, and he doesn’t hold that same predicament. He’s able to unclasp your bra with singular, nimble fingers and that joins your buttons, your tattered shirt, and your books on the floor.

“Mirio,” you hiss through your teeth as his own teeth graze one of your puckered buds. He doesn’t stop, but he looks up at you tentatively. He slides his pink tongue out to lav over your sensitive nipple, and your body melts into him.

“Bed,” you say with less ferocity and Mirio complies, bucking you up so that you’re even higher and easier to carry towards your mattress.

Mirio’s knees reach the edge of your bed and you try to use the weight of your body to make the both of you topple over. He laughs in response, seeing through your obvious advances, and swings you around to the bed, but you kick your legs just enough that you land on your feet on your sheets, towering over him.

You feel a little ridiculous standing on your bed when it should be used for much more than that, but you’re finally able to get his shirt over his head. If you weren’t flushed enough before, you certainly are now. Everyone has seen Mirio naked, there is positively no avoiding that, but there’s something different about being right in front of him, feeling the heat of his ripped body so close to yours that make your stomach turn to knots. He chuckles at you because you don’t realize you’re gawking.

“Yeah?” He says, both as a question and an affirmation. Mirio isn’t one to say something as preposterous as, ‘this is the real deal,’ but he says so much more with a simple, ‘yeah.’

Instead of replying with a ‘yeah’ yourself, the easy route, you grab his hand and lead it to your side. His eyes mellow as he runs the back on his pointer finger up and down your body, over to wear the waistline of your jeans. He kisses you right above your naval, then right below it, and your body shivers in response.

“So soft,” he muses so quietly that you can assume it’s not meant for you, rather he’s voicing his thoughts aloud. His fingers go to the button of your jeans, but he pauses, purses his lips, and narrows his eyes.

You begin to fret over the thought that maybe he’s finished. Maybe he’s come to prove a point and just by getting you flustered and topless on your bed, that point has been proven— game over, goodnight, see you never, bye. Then his eyes meet yours, and his brows furrow gently.

“Can I?” He asks, pulling slightly on your jeans.

Mirio Togata is a glorious mountain, a cute Labrador puppy, and a polite gentleman. You find victory in the fact that you were half-right about something, and despite being absolutely charmed by the man who you’re going to let fuck you senseless, you must gloat a little bit.

You bring your thumb and forefinger to his chin, tilt his head up, and say, “I don’t know. Can you?”

Mirio’s eyes flash and you can see the heat of desire in his longing stare. The pools of his eyes grow heavy as he unbuttons your pants, kissing you right above the hem of your underwear, and says, “let me.”

And you do. You let him. You let him ease you down, you let him push your body onto the mattress, and you let him relieve you of your jeans, your bottoms, your doubts, your inhibitions. And it’s fine, and it’s good, because his cheeks feel fantastic brushing against your skin, and his tongue is extraordinary teasing you between your thighs.

Mirio is a gentleman and the way his tongue paints maps against your quivering heat would be charitable, if not for the fact that he’s enjoying himself as much as you are. He hums when you sigh, tentative to every twitch of your body, every sudden gasp you elicit, every surprising tug your tangled fingers give to his beautiful, golden hair. Mirio draws coils deep within your belly, building a tension that’s dark and deep, until he has you arching your back, squeezing your eyes tight, and seizing as pleasure bursts and breaks and floods the entirety of you.

When you’re no longer grasping at the sheets and you’ve gained some sense of composure, you look down to see Mirio practically wagging his tail, ready to receive affirmation— praise for a job well done. You smile and pet his head, probably a little too smug with the picture he portrays even though you’re wordlessly thankful for all that he’s done, and say, “good boy.”

The eager look on his face is replaced by something more mischievous. He brings his lips to your fluttering bliss and gives it a long lick, calling back your senseless shaking.

“M-mirio,” you mewl, shaken and overly-sensitive to his treacherous tongue. “What are you—? I’ve already—!“

His fingers edge the center of your desire while he pushes the rest of his body closer to you. He levels his head with yours, fingers running circles between your thighs, causing you to squirm and pant underneath him.

“Have you?” He asks, even though he knows too damn well that you have. He captures a wistful moan with his lips, tasting your pained pleasure as if it were only an appetizer for a grand feast.

“Yes!” You say breathlessly just as his fingers curl into you. Your mouth hangs open and he watches you lose your mind with delight.

“but you’ve been such a good girl,” he whispers huskily, slowly pumping his fingers, setting you up to blow you away, “and I might not be so innocent.”

He bites into your neck and you claw at his back. It’s only then that you realize he’s lost his pants. You don’t think he realizes he’s slowly grooving against you, erect and throbbing, and your eyes roll back imagining him inside of you.

“I want you…” you whisper as his tongue glides against the shell of your ear.

“Mmm?” His low thrum tickles you in a way that’s both sweet and enticing. That’s what he is… sweet… you want him to know that you think he’s sweet. You want to make him feel good, too, maybe even while demonstrating that you still have some fight in you, despite your shaky hands and uneven breath.

You reach down and gently pull his hands away from your center. You roll on top of him so his back is to your headboard and you look down on his cute, surprised face. You lean down to give him a sweet peck. He sighs against your lips, “you’re beautiful,” so you kiss him again, deeper, memorizing the curve of his lips and relishing the soft groan he gives when you reach around to grab the base of his cock. You pump it, edging yourself closer to him until the two of you are aligned.

The tides of his eyes are heavy with need while his palms smooth over your thighs. You bite your lip and look towards his abs, clenching and unclenching from anticipation.

“Let me?” You say, posing it as a question, when really you know he wants it just as badly as you do. His answer comes when his hands grip tightly onto your hips and he pushes you onto him.

You roll your hips, wielding a steady rhythm, only allowing Mirio to keep shallow and slow thrusts as you get used to both his length and his girth. He’s breathy while the head of his cock accepts most of the attention; he’s sensitive and you can tell by how he shudders every time you sink a few centimeters lower on him.

“Please,” he rasps, and you don’t realize it until you see his brows furrowed above desperate azure eyes scanning over you that you’re torturing him and he’s letting you. Your hands cover his and guide them up and down, picking up your pace until you’re finally hitting his hilt.

You moan, loud enough for anyone in the next room over to hear, though you’re relieved by the fact that most of your friends are probably still downstairs, playing the same game that’s lead you and Mirio here.

Your name teases his lips, lost to a mixture of swears and grunts. The yes, god, please, fuck, you feel incredible, god’s fill the room just as much he fills you. You groove against him, skillfully trying to keep hold of the reigns, but Mirio’s strong body has more control over you even while he’s the one against the sheets.

Mirio’s large enough that you feel a stretch and the thought sends jubilant waves cascading throughout your body. He thrusts into you, making you cry out in glee and pleasure while bouncing on his shaft. Sweat wedges between your motor bodies and you don’t care, because  it’s wonderful; you feel him. You coil around him, nails imprinting tiny crescents into his muscular back while his lips roam your collar bone, your chest, your breasts, until they find yours, and he kisses you like it’s his god-given right.

You’re in ruins when he tangles his hands in your hair and pulls your face away, still close, but not close enough that you can kiss him once more, just enough that you feel his panting fanning your face. He eyes hold you steady— you don’t think you could look away even if you wanted to— and tears prick your eyes when you’re swarmed with the realization of what those beautiful, round eyes hold: adoration.  

Mirio loves you, and he’s displayed that not only with your ambiguous friendship, but with the way he’s handled you on this singular night. Even while trying to prove a point (he’s the dom), he’s shown restraint. Even when he slammed you against the bookcase, he could very much have hurt you more than that simple pinch, but his arms guarded you and kept you safe and still.

Hell, he could have ripped your pants off at any second of the night, but he wanted to make sure that you wanted the same.

Mirio loves you and he’s displaying that now through his touches, through his whispers, through his liquid eyes that show much more than fiery lust and circumstantial desire. They show care, and devotion, and reverence. You want to tell him you feel the same, but you feel a tugging pulse from your belly.

“Mirio,” you choke out and just as you feel a jolt, he stutters inside of you.

He grasps your sides and flips you onto your back. He says your name likes it’s a hymn as he hammers into you, praising you with loving kisses and nips. You squeeze around him, feeling the surge build up and spill out. You can’t let go of him while your body sings pleasure and gratification in energetic waves flowing up from your toes to your shoulders— overwhelming ecstasy taking you over.

He spills onto your sweat covered stomach, bowing his head against your shoulder. Your fingers tickle his sweat covered back and you coo at him, happy. He lets his body hit the mattress next to you and he stares at your body like he can’t believe what’s happened.

“You-” he breathes, but shakes his head, deciding that whatever he was going to say can’t amount to what he’s feeling.

“You,” you agree, sinking into your pillow. You’re not sure that you can believe what happened either, only the evidence lays out clearly through the tingles in your fingers and the mess on your stomach.

He tries again. “That was—“ but he’s at a loss for words. You brush his hair back and kiss him. He wraps his arm around your torso and brings you into a warm, already-too-familiar embrace. “Should I get like a towel or something?”

“No,” you say, “not yet. I’m happy here. I’ll probably just shower anyway.”

“Can I join you in that shower?”

You snicker. “Do you really have to ask?”

“Hey.” You feel him grinning against your shoulder. Then, he laughs. “Don’t forget to take your socks off before the shower.”

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING: @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter@unboundbnha @rizamendoza808, @rubycubix@smbody-stole-mycar-radio@zellllyyyy @sarcastictextstuck@kpanime @captain-sin-allmight-queen@psionicsnow@wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn @im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai@eggpienutbuttercroissant@usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello 

[stutterfly]

Love Bytes 08 | Critical Updates | KNJ (M)

Last time on Love Bytes 07: You started seeing a guy that seemed great at first, but when he revealed his true colors, you found yourself heartbroken and feeling like the world’s biggest moron. If not for your friends’ intervention, you might feel twice as broken.

Your insecurities are now in the forefront of your mind but one man is determined not to let you dwell on them... Is this love?

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Word Count: 15.4K

Series: Love Bytes (8/?)

Genre: Friends to lovers, IDIOTS to LOVERS, fluff, humor, slow burn, friendship feels, ANGST! pining, sexual tension, SMUT, Bestfriends!au, CollegeProjessor!Namjoon, IT/Nerd!Reader

CW: anxiety, sexual tension, angst, pining, sexual thoughts, language, grinding, Secondhand embarrassment, soft Namjoon feels, insecurities all around when things are the same but also very new, mutual masturbation, body worship, oral sex (female receiving), protected sex, premature ejaculation, hickeys, accepting insecurities, let’s all just appreciate Namjoon’s hot bod ok, Namjoon said chill, Is This Love?

Pairings: Namjoon x Reader, brot7 masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

Do not repost. A/N: There’s at least one more chapter, if not two! I hope this is enjoyable for you to read as it was for me to write. I pretty much worked my birthday weekend on it. Happy birthday from me to y’all for me since i thrive on pleasing others. <3 

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“I’m so stupid,” you sob into his shirt.

Namjoon cups the back of your head, wishing he could remove every ounce of pain, every insecurity Jihoon’s words left behind. He may have walked away, but the damage he’s caused makes Namjoon’s blood boil. He wants to chase after him; he wants to hurt him the way he’s hurt you; he wants to physically unleash every ache that has been stewing all night in his heart. But he wants to be there for you more than anything else. If he has to choose, it will always be you.

“You’re not stupid. You just have a big, stupid heart...” He hugs you even tighter. “...and it’s my favorite thing about you.”

You don’t mind the way your ribcage is crushed in his embrace. It soothes the sting radiating from your body. Also you’re lowkey wishing that your ribs will break and puncture your lungs so you don’t have to think about everything that’s happened tonight.

It’s almost like the sky can sense the heaviness in your mind, epitomizing the weight of your emotions by slowly turning the light rain at your back into a downpour that quickly soaks your shirt. As you pry your face away from the comfort of his chest, rain splatters across your face, mixing with the tears that have already ruined your painstaking application of makeup for the evening.

Jennie, Hoseok, and Taehyung exchange pitying smiles. Despite wanting to comfort you, they know this moment isn’t meant for them and they slowly head back towards the entrance to the building. Jungkook stands firm with his arms crossed, completely engrossed in the way Namjoon comforts you, the way you stare at him, the way you clearly love each other. It’s like watching his favorite television drama, only better because it’s reality. It’s two of his favorite people finally navigating their feelings after an emotionally charged night. Are you going to kiss in the rain?

“We should get you home,” Namjoon mumbles, keeping his palms on your shoulders.

Droplets trickle down his forehead, dripping from his eyelashes as he blinks. He tries to ignore the chill of the rain soaking through his shirt, but the longer you both stand here like morons, the colder it becomes.

“I don’t want to go home,” you whisper with a shake of your head, knowing full well you will lock the door, turn off your phone and just wallow in self pity until you’re forced to leave bed and go to work on Monday. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. Please.”

“You’re never alone.” A sad smile spreads across his face. “You have all of us.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

The sadness in his lips disappears and he laughs, running his hands down the slick sides of your arms until he runs his fingers along yours. Time seems to slow as you pout at him, heart racing in your chest as your wet fingers slip against each other. Your palms clamp together with a wet squelching sound.

“If you don’t want to go home, do you want to…” he starts slowly, as if he’s afraid of your answer.

You’ve come over before but you’ve never spent the night at his place. He’s the one who always crashes on your couch, not the other way around. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Just ask.

“...come over my place instead?”

You smile as you nod and give his hands a reassuring squeeze. Pressing your face into the crook of his neck, you shyly ask the question on your own mind. “Will you please hold me tonight, too?”

Hoseok turns around with a gasp, realizing Jungkook isn’t with them. He quickly runs back to grab him by the ear. “Jungkookie you’re going to ruin everything. Let’s go,” he hisses, dragging him back towards the club.

Even in the rain, he catches the puffy, reddened nature of Jungkook’s eyes before the younger man wipes at them. Combining that with the proud grin and the way he refuses to remove his gaze from the pair of you even as he’s being pulled away, Hoseok rolls his eyes. What a baby. Before he can tease him for being sensitive, Jennie is already chastising him.

“What the fuck, Jungkook? Give them some space.”

“Aww, I just wanted to watch a little longer,” Jungkook whines even as Taehyung is shaking his head at him. “I was hoping to see a little more action.”

“Don’t be a perv.” Jennie pinches his arm hard and he whimpers. But for the first time she notices the glossy texture in his eyes. "Are you crying?"

Jungkook scoffs, pushing past her. "What are you, crazy?"

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The drive had been quick. Thankfully, Namjoon doesn't live very far from that particular club. Between your emotional state of mind and the severity of the rain assaulting your windshield, you’re not sure you could have safely made a longer drive. You step into the elevator, Namjoon’s hands guiding you inside. His arms wrap around your torso, attempting to cut off the chill soaked into both of your clothes as the doors slowly close.

“You okay, Geeksquad?” His words sound distant, despite the fact that he’s close to your ear.

“Yeah… Yeah!” You try to sound chipper but all you manage is to showcase the fact that you’re not. You purse your lips together, knowing that was pathetic. Hugging your arms over his, you spare a glance at him. The incredulous expression on his face is killing you.

“Don’t let him get inside your head,” he says, armed with the knowledge of how much damage those toxic thoughts can do.

“He was right.” Your voice breaks the second you speak, even as you try to keep the tears in.

Namjoon shakes his head before dropping his chin to your shoulder. “No. He couldn’t be more wrong about you. You’re funny and kind and beautiful. That fool didn’t deserve to be breathing the same air as you.”

You let your chin drop to your chest, nuzzling your nose beneath his arm. “I’m boring. I work with computers because I like it. I like to watch movies and do nothing all day. I like video games and sitting on my butt playing through stories I could never dream of. I like to sit in parks and space out for hours staring at the sky. I know it doesn’t make for great conversation. How do I defend against that? He’s right. I am boring. I’m a loser.”

You pause to sniffle, finding that the words just won’t stop coming. “And that makes me desperate for anyone to see past the layers and love the person inside. Just like he said. I know I have more to offer and I want people to see it. It’s just so hard to show anyone why I matter, why I should be considered, when all I see when I look at myself is the same timid marching band geek I’ve been since high school.

“Bullied. Passed over. Cheated on, then dumped for someone prettier. Too nervous to say hi. Too shy to say how I really feel out loud. I mean, I have eight friends and most of them I only have because of you. Most people wouldn’t willingly get to know me without an ulterior motive and I was stupid to think otherwise. To top it all off, I’m barely a six. Barely average. I mean when you put it all together, it makes sense why nobody has ever loved me.”

Namjoon is quiet, pressing his cheek against yours and listening to the uneven breaths you take. “You deserve to see how amazing you are. All those things you think make you a loser, or unworthy of love, they’re ingrained in your DNA. They’re a part of you and you can’t cover it up, and you shouldn’t. These things are little pieces of you that are beautiful fractions of the person I know. You think no one has ever loved you, but you don’t know how other people think or feel. Sometimes we’re all too shy, too scared to say the things we really want to say.”

He licks his lips and breaks his hug, planting his hands on your shoulders and spinning you towards him. “I’ve seen you, everything you are. Every last wonderful fractal of your soul shines, even in the dark and I…” He blinks slowly, his heart caught in his throat. “...want to be the prism in your light. I want to capture the beauty of your soul and reflect it back at you. But I need to open your eyes so you can see the way I do.”

Your heart skips a beat as his palms warm the wet clothing at your shoulders. How can he take words and make them into such beautiful things? Trembling beneath his touch, you wipe the tears from beneath your eyes and bring a shaky palm to his cheek, thumb sliding between his nose and his cheekbone.

“You think too much of me,” you choke out with a laugh, cutting the tension in the space between you.

He shakes his head again, nuzzling into your touch with a laugh. This feels… right.

“Before I knew you, my heart was only filled with straight lines,” he mumbles.

Your brow furrows, but your stomach does a flip within the confines of your body. Did you hear him correctly? “Namjoon?”

“Your imperfections make you human, like me. I’m just a human,” he takes a deep breath, courage surging in his veins when he locks eyes with you. “You erode all my edges and make me into love.”

You forget how to breathe, legs threatening to buckle out from beneath you. The trembling in your hands has spread and it’s impossible to attribute it to the waterlogged clothes on your body. Your jaw quivers, unable to find the words to speak. You’re worried you’ll undo every beautiful phrase the man before you has uttered if you open your mouth now.

“We’re humans in that myriad of straight lines. My love,” he whispers in a low breathy tone, taking your hands and placing them over his chest. “Sit on top of it and it becomes a heart.”

You stand with your shaking hands stacked over his heart, too scared to move. His lips part as his brown eyes open wide, unsure what else needs to be said. Did he make it too complicated? He thought it was poetic. Maybe his final draft needs more work. He knots his eyebrows and tries again.

“You say that no one loves you, but then you don’t know how I feel. I love the things you don’t like about yourself. I love the things you do. I love the things you’ll never know or see. Your charm, your wit, your jokes, your laugh, your smile… All your layers. All your beauty. Physical, emotional, all of it. I love it. I love you.”

His tongue wets his lips despite how dry his mouth feels and he swallows, waiting for a response. Was it too blunt this time? Was it too simple? You’re still just staring at him with your mouth hanging open, unmoving. He really hopes that this moment passes quickly. If you’re really uncomfortable he will let you have his bed and he will sleep on his own couch, but he has to know one way or the other and the silence in the elevator is maddening.

The truth of it is that your mind needs to reboot and process. He’s so eloquent that you feel stuck trying to construct a response that feels adequate. It feels like someone pulled the power cord out before you were finished shutting down and fired your system back up with the press of a button. The fans are spinning but the motherboard still needs a minute. Slowly your hands move up towards his shoulders, trailing a path up his neck and come to rest on either side of his face with your thumbs curled underneath his jaw.

Namjoon tries to beat back the hope bubbling in his gut, worried something else is going to happen. Something will change. Something will interrupt. It always does. Or this isn’t what he thinks at all and you’re about to give him the softest, most heartbreaking letdown of his existence. He panics and freezes, waiting for the ache in his heart to amplify.

Words aren’t so good right now, but actions speak louder anyway, right? Gathering every last speck of courage you can, you close your eyes and lean forward to bring your lips to his. The sensation sparks fireworks in your brain, your stomach rumbling with a heat that makes your heart feel like it’s a hot air balloon taking off and your torso is floating away from your legs.

By the time Namjoon’s brain catches up to the realization that you’re kissing him, his hands are already at your back and in your hair, desperately pulling you closer to him to expand on what you’ve offered. He immediately dips his tongue inside your mouth, feeling you, tasting you, finally having you. You’re kissing him. You’re actually kissing him now. Is this a dream he’s about to awaken from?

His back hits the wall of the elevator when you fall towards him and you mumble an apology against his lips, but he simply grabs a fistful of your hair and clamps his mouth back down, sliding his tongue against yours. A throaty moan replaces the words of reassurance he means to say. He wants to commit the feeling of your lips to memory and he's well on his way when the doors slide open.

It would have been fine if you both didn't act like getting caught was the most embarrassing thing in the world, bouncing to opposite ends of the elevator like ping pong balls. The young woman entering purses her lips and shifts uncomfortably as she looks from you to Namjoon. She settles her gaze on the floor and presses the button for her destination, reminding you both that you haven’t left the ground floor.

You press your forehead into the wall and find an interesting spot to stare at. Namjoon awkwardly shuffles forward and finally presses the button with the "8" above it. You all wait in painful silence for the woman's stop.

Ding… Ding... Ding... Ding.

The doors open and the girl scurries out as quickly as possible. Namjoon clicks the close button multiple times, wishing the technology would respond faster to his touch. The doors close just as he looks over at you, quickly crossing the space and turning you by your shoulders to face him.

"Geeksquad."

Leaning against the wall, you shamefully drag your eyes to his, wincing as his thumb grazes the welt beneath your shirt.

"Shit, sorry," he whispers, carefully sliding his fingers down your arms until they rest at his sides.

Ding.

"No, no. It's fine. Just… Please." Shaky fingers reach for the back of his neck, coaxing him to move back towards you.

Ding.

He places his palms on the wall beside your head, leaning into your touch with a heavy exhale.

"Please, what?" The question escapes with a cracked whimper. You're driving him insane.

"Please don't stop touching me tonight." The words you've chosen are far more sinful than either of you anticipate.

But if you're honest?

Ding.

His reaction makes it worth it.

As the doors open you're panting against his ear, eyelids fluttering to catch the glint of metal reflecting the light from the hall. Namjoon is busy coating your neck and jaw in sloppy open-mouthed kisses, growling against your skin when you weakly claw at his shoulders to get his attention. He suppresses the urge to grind his throbbing cock against you and instead starts sucking bruises into your neck, nipping at the sensitive flesh. If he teases you enough, will you do the same to him?

As light as your head feels from the high of his tongue massaging the tension from your body, you tug at his hair. He's not going to move without some prompting but you really don't want to spend the night in the elevator.

"Door. Door. Door," you repeat with a breathless whine.

He grabs your hips, walking you towards the exit as the doors begin to slowly slide together. He sticks his hand out just in time to catch the sensor, parting the barrier before it can completely shut. Okay, Namjoon. Control yourself. Few more steps. Get into the apartment.

"Sorry. Got carried away," he says, giving the blossoming color on your neck a nervous glance.

You shake your head at him and offer a goofy grin. "Please get carried away more often, preferably somewhere less public."

He forces his hands away from their perch on your hips and instead twines your fingers in his as he leads you down the hall.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You slip your arms through the oversized white t-shirt he’s given you, the fabric stopping just above your knees to act as a makeshift nightgown. There have been multiple times you’ve teased him for owning clothes that are easily four times his size, but for once you’re thankful for it. Your wet clothes hang over the sliding door to the shower and you use the damp, dark material to rub the remainder of makeup off your eyes. It’s dirty anyway.

Holding the sweatpants he’s provided, you purse your lips in contemplation and stare at the doorknob. Do you even bother putting them on? The shirt you’re wearing covers plenty. You debate taking your panties off because those are wet too, but for an entirely different reason.

Sparing a glance at your reflection, you quickly realize you can see the faint circles of your nipples poking out from beneath the shirt. The material is so worn down that it’s almost sheer, the once black band decal on the front now a faded gray. A blush warms your face as you wonder if this was a carefully selected garment for his own benefit.

Despite the anxiety in the back of your mind telling you that you’re completely unfuckable, Namjoon’s affirmations of love sit in the front row of your brain, replaying like a song you can’t get enough of. Your lips are still swollen from the hungry way he kissed you and you drag them over your teeth as you consider how fucking good it felt to finally give in to the devil on your shoulder.

You stare yourself down as two peaks form beneath the sheet of white over your chest. Just the t-shirt it is. You’ve never been more thankful to have preemptively shaved your legs for a date in your life.

As you pull the door open, your mind is replaying the hottest moment in your life: the way he had you pressed against the wall of the elevator. Reality smacks you in the face in the form of his massive chest. He bashfully apologizes, looking you up and down with a warm smile before swallowing hard and slipping past you.

The door closes behind him and without his gaze on you now, you’re left with increased feelings of anxiety. Clutching your elbows, you wander into his bedroom, hoping to silence the noise in your head by dramatically flopping into his bed.

As you wait for Namjoon, you get comfortable on the pillows, turning your body to one side as you watch rain assault the large window nearby. A shiver runs through you, reminding you how much of a chill is still left in you from the rain. You’re regretting not putting on the sweatpants now as the t-shirt rides up over your thighs, so you bury yourself beneath the plaid duvet, sliding your legs against the soft cotton sheets beneath and curling the material around your face.

The light in the room dims. The flash of blue and purple catches your eye, a tiny projector firing up across the room with a soft hum. You follow the light it casts to the soothing presence of slow-moving stars twinkling on the ceiling. The soft glow of orange LED candles on the nightstand beside the bed contrasts the calming sight above you in a way that makes you feel warm and safe, even though nothing has changed in terms of temperature or security.

You smile in disbelief at the breathtaking galaxy as Namjoon shuffles under the covers beside you, never taking his eyes off you.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, mouth hanging agape as you watch stars twinkle in and out of existence.

You reach up as if to touch the sparkles above, knowing that the action is as useless as reaching for the stars outside; it’s an optical show of light refracting against glass, but it’s still so fucking pretty that you allow yourself to pretend for just a moment that you can feel a galaxy at your fingertips.

“Yeah?” he asks with a laugh, looking at something far more perfect than the lights dancing across the ceiling.

He props his head up with a folded elbow, taking in the childlike wonder on your face with a grin of his own. He’s spent many nights falling asleep under this fabricated sky, but it’s never felt as magical as it does now with you beside him. How cheesy would it be to tell you that? Should he say it? Would you love it? He decides he doesn’t want to ruin the moment with his corniness.

“I used to camp a lot in my backyard when I was little. Fell asleep under the stars a lot.” He reaches for your hand, drumming his fingertips over your knuckles. “When I grew up I found it hard to sleep when I couldn’t see them.”

“Surprised you haven’t broken this projector,” you tease with a grin, curling his fingers over your hand.

“Yeah.” He laughs. “It’d be okay if I did though. I don’t need that universe to sleep anymore.”

“Really?” You look over at him, the orange glow of the candle framing his head like a halo.

He nods with a smile, going for all the cheese he missed earlier. “‘Cause I got youniverse.”

You cup your hand around his jaw and you shake your head even though you’ve got the biggest grin on your face. “You’re so fucking corny, oh my god. You’ve been spending too much time with Seokjin.”

“No, see it’s double funny because--”

“Joonie, I got it,” you interrupt, rolling your eyes with that big goofy grin splitting your mouth wider.

He feels the need to further explain, digging a hole to put the rock he’s about to die on. “Because it can be taken like you are the center of my youniverse. But also you’ll fix it probably and you can call it yours--”

Your lips press against his, muffling the sound of any further explanation, extinguishing the blazing trail of thoughts, turning them into hazy stacks of steam that threaten to pour out his ears. He prays if this is a dream that he doesn’t wake up. Knowing what your lips feel like when you’re kissing him, how soft they are, the motions your jaw makes, the way you taste, means he can’t go back to pretending like he doesn’t.

His eyes open in time to catch your satisfied expression as you place a palm over his chest and press him flat against the bed.

"How have I never noticed?" you ask, losing yourself in his handsome, dimpled smile.

"Hmm?" He folds one arm behind his head while trailing his fingers across your forearm. He's a little distracted by the way his favorite shirt slips away from your chest just enough to expose a bit of your collarbone.

"How much you feel like home," you respond, cupping his face with your hands.

He licks his lips, pretending to tuck hair behind your ear just so he can use the excuse to rest his palm on your cheek. "Must have been that firewall you're always talking about. What, did you decide it was time for it to come down?"

"Pfft. No. Firewall is in full effect," you say, resisting the urge to explain how whitelisting a program works and the comparison it draws to your love life. "Just… For everyone except you."

You reach over his body, leaning across him to grab your phone from the nightstand as you maintain eye contact. It takes the full remainder of his self control to keep his hands to himself as your tits squish against his chest. From the devilish glint in your eye and the teasing flick of your tongue over your lips as you brush your nose against his, he knows it's a purposeful action.

You navigate to Tinder as you rest your head beside his, angling the phone towards him so he can watch. You open the app and ignore the unread messages in favor of hitting the account settings.

"I'm an idiot for ever downloading this app," you mumble, pressing the link to delete your account. The prompt on screen asks if you're sure, citing loss of conversations, matches, profile data, literally everything as unrecoverable once you agree. You've never been more sure about anything in your life.

Just like that your profile is gone and after a few seconds, so is that awful app. You press the power button to turn the screen off and look over at him.

"You're everything I want." You begin brushing your fingers through his hair. "I was too stupid to figure that out on my own. I shouldn't have needed an app to realize that, but I guess sometimes I need a little help getting out of my own head.”

You reach over him again to put your phone back on the nightstand, this time hovering instead of pressing into him because suddenly you feel shy. You’re not just latching on to some random person. This has been brewing for some time now and it’s clear now that it can’t be anyone. You may be desperate to be loved but that stems from you loving and being afraid to admit it, to be loved in return by the object of your unsung affections. He’s already done the hard part. Can’t you just do one thing right and gather your courage for once in your life?

"I love you."

The words somehow feel natural and terrifying at the same time. Your body betrays the bravery in your tone by allowing your arms to quake as your palms sink into the mattress beside him. Even though he's the one that said it first, doubt creeps in your mind. What if he was just caught in the moment?

He doesn't allow your thoughts the time they need to splinter into a thousand more. Goosebumps break out over your body as his arms wrap around your back, slowly pulling you down into a chaste kiss.

"I knew I loved you a long time ago. I knew it when you bailed my ass out of trouble even though it broke your finances to the point you started biking to campus to keep from spending on gas. Yes, I knew, and yes, I still think you’re a fool for stretching yourself so thin... I knew it when you agreed to meet my friends and made them all fall in love with your soul the same way that I did. I knew it when I started binging movies with you and falling asleep on your couch, wishing I was holding you instead." His words are soft as he hugs you close to him, trying the soothe the tremors causing your body to involuntarily vibrate. "But I only accepted it recently, so I guess I'm twice the idiot you claim to be."

You laugh, rolling your forehead across his as you brush noses. "Is that so? I'll remember that the next time you bring up that IQ of yours."

He smiles, planting another innocent kiss on your lips before murmuring, "Wow. The disrespect is real."

You giggle, taking the opportunity to roll off him. "Sorry, should I be nicer to you now?"

"Don't you dare," he laughs, sitting up and tugging at the collar of his t-shirt. "Do you mind? I'm gonna overheat otherwise. Central air can only do so much."

You shake your head and the material slips over his head, exposing pectorals that are bigger than expected. Your mouth waters as you take in the sight of his dark golden skin and two rigid brown nipples in the low light. You're already scanning the moles between them, trying to form an invisible constellation that you might count yourself lucky enough to run your tongue across later.

You bite your lip as he balls the shirt up and launches it across the room because for the first time you're actually able to process how fit he is. The skin of his stomach is firm and smooth, lined with a fine trail of hair that disappears into his sweatpants. His arms are bigger than you remember them being and it spawns the memory of how good they feel wrapped around your back.

Suddenly you're grateful for the underwear you kept on because it's easier to hide the soaking nature of your folds when there's something to help absorb it. He settles in beside you, breathing a sigh of relief at the cool air touching his skin. You look towards the ceiling, trying to pretend you weren't just ogling his perfect body, but you're a second too late. He catches the longing expression and the subtle smack of your thighs clamping together.

"Geeksquad," he mockingly chides with a surprised laugh. You bury your face in the blankets as he grins, drawing you towards his obscenely hot chest.

It's not fair. How is he so hot so suddenly? You can't even think. Doesn't he know he can't just magically become hot the moment you admit to being in love with him? That's not how this is supposed to work.

"Oh, did I embarrass you?" he teases.

You pull the bedsheet up his chest, creating a layer between your cheek and the source of your shame before covering your head with the duvet.

"Rude," you mumble against the fabric.

He slowly uncovers your head and you glare at him even as he squeezes your body close to his. He presses his lips to your forehead and you melt into a puddle.

"You don't have to stop thirsting just because I called you out. It's cute and I'm not used to it. That's all."

"Oh no. I can't hear you. I am asleep," you say, despite your eyelashes fluttering as you inhale the calming musk he emanates.

He clicks his tongue. "I can feel you blinking."

"No."

He can't help but grin at the familiar scenario. "How are you gonna tell me no? I feel it."

"No," you whine again, this time turning your face into his chest to smile.

His fingers trail paths up and down your arm and you feel yourself already beginning to doze.

"Joonie?"

"Hmm." It sounds like he’s in the same boat.

"Thank you," you mumble.

His sleepy response is delayed. "For what?"

"Being my home."

He hums a sleepy note of affirmation and you hug him as tightly as you can muster, feeling his hand playing with your hair before allowing sleep to claim you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Muted light floods the room as heavy raindrops barrage the window. The sky is a dark grey so it's not like daybreak presents a horrible wakeup call. Still you glare daggers at the half-drawn navy curtains. It's not far. You reason that you can get up, close them, and be back in bed before Namjoon even stirs.

The heavy arm wrapped around your waist makes it difficult to want to move. Instead of peeling him off of your body, you find yourself nuzzling into the arm beneath your cheek and folding your fingers over the ones nearly tucked beneath your hip. You inhale deeply, trying to use the memory of his scent as incentive. On exhale you slip out from beneath him and slide the curtains closed as quietly as possible, allowing a dull darkness to coat the room. Carefully using your hands to navigate your way back to your spot, you feel along the mattress for his hand but it’s nowhere to be found.

As you wiggle back into place, his arm comes down over your waist to envelop you in a tight embrace. “Thanks for closing that.”

“Mmm-hmm,” you hum, closing your eyes even though the light airy feeling in your chest makes it impossible to drift off. You want to feel him against you like this forever. Missing out on the heated sigh against your ear, the covetous pull of his arm against your body, and the solid mass of his chest pressing into your back would be a crime.

“Namjoonie, are you going back to bed?” You turn your face towards him and he lifts his head to look at you.

“Are you?” The words are barely above a whisper, but cracked and rough, still thick with the grogginess of slumber.

The fan of reality begins to spin its blades of clarity, clearing the fog of sleep from your brain. Is this real? Is everything you remember real? You’re here in Namjoon’s bed, wearing his t-shirt, wishing you never have to leave. You’d wager it is. His dark brown irises disappear behind the heavy shades of his eyelids and reappear slowly as he takes in the beautiful wonder in your expression.

“I don’t think I can,” you admit, smoothing back the hair falling in his face.

He leans into your touch, letting his eyes close. You allow your palm to slide down his cheek and he turns his head to press his lips against it as it descends to cup his chin.

“Me neither,” he murmurs, slowly turning his slightly more alert eyes back to yours.

Why do I feel so nervous? We kissed. He told me he loved me. I told him I loved him. The hard part is over. I wanna do it again. So why do I feel like I’m gonna throw up? Why can’t I bring myself to move?

The longer you stare into his eyes, the more terrified you feel. Frozen in place, you begin the mental gymnastics you’ve grown accustomed to performing while thinking about him. Last night was emotionally charged. Maybe he was swept up in the moment. Did he really mean what he said? Maybe he was trying to make you feel better. Maybe now that it’s morning he regrets everything. Maybe that look in his eye is pity and you just want it to be awe.

He’s too good for you. He’s always been too good for you. Isn’t that the real reason you’ve never entertained this idea for longer than a millisecond? Because if you drop every defense mechanism you have and let yourself be raw with him, he’ll see he deserves far better. He’ll leave. The way he takes care of you, talks with you after bad days, assures you when your confidence wanes, massages your shoulders when he reads your tense body language, it’s all too good for you and he deserves someone who can do the same for him. But god. You still want it. You still want him. You’ve been ungrateful and clueless, but you can’t stop yourself from being selfish. How can he accept you being subpar when he consistently goes above and beyond for you?

“You’re holding your breath,” he comments, already aware you’ve got something big caught in the cogs of your brain.

You turn your head away to exhale, forcing a laugh. “You’re lucky. I’m sparing you my morning breath.”

As soon as your hand leaves his chin and it looks like you’re about to roll away, he makes the split second decision to catch your wrist. “Maybe I want it.”

“Don’t be gross Joonie.” You don’t dare look at him because you know you’ll only wilt under his gaze, but you allow yourself to be guided back against the safety of his chest.

“What? I’m dead serious,” he replies, releasing your wrist in favor of gliding his fingertips gently down your side. His gut is living in turmoil, preparing itself for the moment you say you want to call it off, that you want to forget everything again and pretend like nothing happened. He knew it was coming. “Whatever it is, it’s okay. Breathe.”

You want to tell him everything you’re thinking but the words won’t form. You take a deep breath in through your nose, choke on the exhale and flop your body around to face him.

“You can tell me. It’s okay. I’ll still be here. It’s okay.” The pit in his stomach threatens to pull tears from his eyes but he holds them in, rubbing your back instead and fighting the sickness building in his throat.

“I’m selfish, Joonie.”

The words are broken as they escape you and that stone in his stomach wrenches every last bit of dread it can from the dark tendrils around his heart, causing it to sink. He doesn’t speak. He can’t. He’ll break too. You’re crying as you look up at him and he feels himself cracking, falling to pieces in the moments between your words. Last night was too good to be true. He swallows and dons a mask of stone.

You swallow down the fear and embarrassment stinging your cheeks as you lay here trying to gradually pry your heart out of your chest for him. He waits with an unreadable expression, suffering without allowing a single complaint to pass his lips, despite your frequent hesitation. How does he have so much patience for you?

“You’re so good to me all the time. You know what I need before I do. And I… want to be that good for you. But I don’t know how.” A choked sob makes its way out and you stutter out an apology before continuing.

“You deserve someone who can pick up on things the way you do. I’m afraid that I’m not good enough for you… but I want to be. I want to be so badly.” You sniffle, sucking in the snot threatening to drip from your nose. “I know it’s selfish, but please. Let me try to be half as good to you as you are to me. I know I’m a mess but I promise I’ll do my best. But I’m scared...” You swipe at your tears as his hand settles on your back, unmoving.

“I’m scared you’ll think I’m not worth the effort. Spending the night with you like this… Finally letting go of my fear... it was pretty much everything I’d been dreaming of for weeks, but now I just feel guilty because it's like I'm waking up next to an actual Saint and… you’re waking up next to a mess of a human. I’m sorry that I’m not… " You search for the perfect word, but fall short, just like you always do. "... better.”

A relieved laugh bubbles from his throat. “Oh wow. Me? A Saint?” Another string of laughter follows. “Is that what you’re worried about? Do I need to start teasing you again? Will that help?"

He pokes your side and you squeak. As much as he wants to pull more of the same sound from you by digging his fingers into your side, the urge to reassure you is stronger.

"I told you being messy is human nature. I mess up all the time… I’m just a human,” he says, smiling as he lifts your chin so you meet his glossy-eyed gaze. “...You erode all my edges and make me into love.”

He said that last night too. What else was it he said? It was so poetic but you’re struggling to remember. You grab his hand and press it to your chest. The t-shirt is a little wet from your tears, but it’s warm from the heat swirling in your chest. You hope he can feel your heartbeat beneath his palm.

“Something, something… and it becomes a heart?” you ask with a sheepish grin and a sniffle.

“Something like that,” he laughs, causing the tears wading in his eyes to crash down against his cheeks. “Listen. I didn’t fall for you because I want you to be some pinnacle of perfection placed on a pedestal. I fell for the you that you are. Every flaw is just another part I love. You’re... a lot of things, but selfish isn’t one of them. Seeing you as you are and not who you pretend to be… It’s more than I can express. But ‘I love you’ comes close.”

All the noise in your head scatters in different directions as he sweeps a path of clarity through your thoughts with his words. Your heart swells with the big inhale you take, causing his hand to rise with your expanding chest.

He pauses to roll his eyes and cut the tension. “At least not in this case. Trust me. If anyone’s selfish, it’s me.”

“You? Really? I don’t believe that. You're always too good to me. There's no way.”

You smile at the adoring look in his eyes, melting into a puddle when soft dimples form just outside his lips. How did you manage to not fall for so long? You look down at the shape of those luscious, velvety smooth lips spreading wide to expose a set of beautiful teeth. Your tongue absentmindedly swipes along your mouth as you try to purge thoughts of how good they felt nipping at your neck last night. As you swallow and bring yourself to focus on his eyes, he grins wider. You really have to work at being less obvious because this whole getting caught ogling him thing is becoming increasingly more embarrassing.

“Mmm. I think you’ll find I’m very selfish because I don’t want to share...” he trails, bowing to rest his forehead against yours. “I want to keep you to myself. Morning breath and all.”

Tingling goosebumps ripple across your body like an electric chill as you slip your hand around the back of his neck and shiver. You're pretty sure you have the biggest, dumbest grin on your face. When did you become so fucking smitten? “It’s yours then."

Allowing your head to drop back against the pillow, you gently encourage him to chase your lips, twirling locks of his hair in your fingers.

"I'm yours," you correct yourself with a whisper, need filling the cracks that uncertainty doesn't cover. "If you want me? Please say you want me still."

He uses the opportunity to slip his arm out from underneath you and uses it to prop himself up. His long fingers curl around your jaw and he tilts your chin up as he moves in closer. He pauses to skim his lips over yours before he speaks those reassuring words. "I want you. And I'll tell you as many times as it takes for it to sink in."

He closes the distance between you before you provide another insecure rebuttal for him to combat. He presses down on your mouth hard with his own but keeps his tongue to himself, simply allowing you to feel the heat of his lips against you. There's that chill again, wracking your body, hardening your nipples, facilitating the transfer of the hot, sticky wetness from your folds to your panties.

It's not enough. The fireworks in your head and the butterflies swirling a storm in your stomach leaves you euphoric and eager to consume more of him. You start to tease your tongue along him and he greedily reciprocates by pushing his tongue past your teeth and into your mouth. You gasp at the intrusion and he moves back, but you're not about to let him go. If he’s hungry then you’re starving.

He has to steady himself when you twist his hair in your fingers and yank down, earning you a guttural growl from the back of his throat that fades into a weak moan. The sound has you clamping your legs together, trying to contain the thin layer of slick coating the crease along your inner thighs right where they meet your underwear. You'll have to peel them off and wring them out if he keeps it up.

"So rough," he chides with a chuckle, almost taunting you back as he slides his fingers around the back of your head,

"Sorry," you mumble, dropping your palms flat against his back.

But you're not, not really. Letting him back off now would be truly devastating. You're already moving back in to drag his bottom lip through your teeth, earning another gravelly growl.

“I know you’re not,” he laughs as his lip snaps back to him, your smile giving you away.

He gives a small tug on the strands of your hair he's started twisting between his fingers. He doesn't know what he expected, but the soft moan that pulls from you isn’t it. The sound travels through him like a tuning fork and sets his nerves alight on a path that goes straight to his dick. Without hesitation he fists his hands deep in your hair, twisting as much as he can in his fingers and squeezes. Your mouth falls open and you gasp out a louder, needier moan against him. He presses his mouth harder against you, tongue claiming the space inside yours as its new home.

Your back arcs up off the mattress, arms curling around his neck as if to hold him in place so he doesn’t disappear like he has in so many of your dreams. The heat of his bare chest bores through the thin fabric of your borrowed shirt, firm pectorals squishing the soft flesh of your breasts. It feels like you’re going to explode if you don’t relieve some of the pressure associated with such salacious desire.

“Namjoon,” you pant in a whisper, rolling your body towards him in a frenzied need that drives the shirt up past your panties.

He groans a deep sound into your mouth, trying not to give in to every last lustful thought telling him to put his hands all over you. He knows it’s a delicate balance, exploring this new territory with you, but it’s so hard to rationalize actions with his dick leading his thoughts. He knows he has to reel it in or he is going to go too fast. When you roll your hips against him a second time, he lets himself get lost in the way your hand glides down his back. Your fingertips barely dip below his waistband before they’re coming back up and making their way across his arm. How is it you can make him want you more with every touch, every pant, every pass his tongue makes against yours? Suddenly both your hands leave his back completely and he’s about ready to start weeping. Fuck. You’re killing me.

You can feel the new bit of exposed skin rubbing against his sheets and you allow your body to relax its deathgrip on your thighs, desperate to feel any other part of him touching you. Just as you’re about to pull the sheet down for him to see what you’ve done, he hooks his leg over yours, wedging it between the previously immovable limbs. Oh fuck. I’m in trouble.

He’s about to expose how ridiculously wet you are and you two are just making out. If he doesn’t realize it, he’s still going to be wearing you all over his sweatpants.

“Wait, I…” Your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding hard enough to burst through your chest.

He pauses to prop himself on his hands, towering over you. The knee between your legs sinks into the mattress as it supports the majority of his weight. He’s looking at you through half-lidded eyes, pupils so blown out that you can’t see any of the color surrounding them anymore. “What do you need?”

Don’t say your dick. Don’t say your dick. Don’t say your dick.

You’re frozen, terrified that he’s somehow gained the ability to read your thoughts. He exhales a soft sigh and his expression morphs into raw compassion. “Do you wanna stop? It’s okay. We don’t have to move so fast.”

He says that like anything the two of you have ever done has progressed at a pace faster than paint drying. You manage a conflicted sigh, combing your fingers through your hair. Wow. That’s oily. Becoming aware of your appearance, even in the relatively dark room, leaves you feeling insecure.

“Ah, it’s not that,” you begin, trying to explain without revealing just how embarrassed you are. You place your hands on the knee between your legs, feeling his body stiffen at the sensation. Your wrists are quickly pressed into the slick of your thighs when he shifts his knee forward. Oh fuck. He’s too close.

“What is it? Tell me,” he prods when your fingernails dig into his thigh.

You open your mouth to speak, meaning to use the cop out excuse of having to pee, but fall silent when you realize just how muscular his thigh feels beneath your palm.

“What can I do?” he asks, practically seeing the wheels turning in your head.

You nervously swallow, blinking furiously like you’ve forgotten how normal eyeballs work. “Nothing.”

“Okay, why are you being so weird?” he laughs, reaching down for your hands and pulling the blanket back as he moves. “You’re cutting off my blood flow with those little daggers you call nails. Have you been biting them again?”

Panic sets in when you realize you have nowhere to hide. You pull your hands away from his leg to avoid letting him feel how slick your wrists have become just rubbing against your inner thighs. Your shirt has risen up enough to bare your belly button, showing off the lacey black panties below. His eyes slowly drift down, fully taking in the way you look wearing his shirt before they get stuck on the flesh exposed for his consumption. He swallows hard and finally takes in the mouthwatering sight below. The band of stretchy black mesh bordered by a fine red lace encircles your hips, making you look like a gift presented specifically for him to start unwrapping with his teeth.

“Fuck me,” he mutters to himself in a low breathy tone.

You nervously laugh, feeling like your chest is about to cave in on itself. “I’m too embarrassed to do that.”

With his eyes focused elsewhere his hands reach out to clumsily grasp at yours. He drags his lip through his teeth as he draws the back of your hand to his lips. You freeze, knowing that you’re done for.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he says."I know it's not that simple, but try it anyway."

He kisses your knuckles sweetly and starts to slowly work his way across the back of your hand, applying more passion to each kiss he plants on your skin. The closer he gets to your wrist the more tongue he offers, kissing, nibbling, and sucking at the slick partially dried against your flesh there. You’d be mortified if you didn’t find it so fucking hot.

Your chest heaves in silent waves as you watch him. He locks eyes with you, pressing his lips to your arm one final time with a coy grin.

“Is that what you were trying to hide from me?”

"Yes." Your voice is small as you admit defeat. You turn your head into the pillow so you don't have to look at him anymore. "I'm sorry. Can I just... Take a cold shower or something?"

Namjoon laughs. "Why are you apologizing? You really don't have anything to be embarrassed about."

Why are you apologizing? Your ex had ingrained in you that you were some freak of nature, but you've known for years now that he didn't know anything about women. Still, it seems that insecurity stuck with you. You bite your lip, mind wandering back the way Namjoon looked sucking your arm.

"Besides you taste amazing from what I can gather," he murmurs, rolling to lay flat on his back, folding his arms behind his head. "But if you really want to shower, I won't stop you. I don't recommend cold water, ever. I mean if you wanna, knock yourself out. If you go hot though, the ventilation can get kind of bad, so keep the door open a crack. I can try my hand at making breakfast. Don't think I haven't been picking up some skills."

You sit up, eyes traveling helplessly down his torso, roaming over his hardened nipples and raking in the divots along his stomach indicating muscles hidden just below the surface. A thin trail of dark hair below his belly button grows thicker as it disappears below the band of his gray sweatpants. Even in the darkness you can discern the bulge slightly tenting the fabric over his crotch. When you force them back up to meet his gaze, you find yourself distracted by the swell of the triceps framing his face. Have the back of his arms always looked like this? Has he always looked so fucking good?

The lip you've held in your teeth for the last minute or so has begun to pale from the pressure. You don't even realize you're giving him that deer-in-the-headlights stare until he reaches over to poke you in the belly.

"Are you going or what?"

You blink at him a few times. "Huh?"

"Shower. Yes? No? Or you gonna keep looking at me like that and tempting me with that bedhead?"

Your hand instinctively flies up to smooth down your hair, even though you know it's no use. How many times has he caught you staring at his body now? You've lost count, but it's still equally mortifying.

"I'm sorry if I seem like a tease," you mumble, eyes darting away. "I know you're the same person as before I said the words out loud, but my brain has decided it likes you too much and it's making me stupid nervous. I feel like I'm undergoing a critical system update. So like... bear with me while it finishes installing?"

He leans his head back against the pillow, rubbing his forehead with tented fingers. "Wow. Why is it the nerdy talk that gets me every time? How do you make it so sexy?"

A nervous laugh dissolves into a hum within your throat. "Sexy? Hmm. I think you've got the wrong girl."

He looks over at you, cheek flush against the pillow. "Nah, I've got the most perfect one."

"Ha. Well. You know what I got?" You continue nervously laughing as you slip out of bed.

"What?" He grins as you pause in the doorway, fabric of his shirt dangling against your thighs.

“I got youniverse,” you tease in a deep voice with a smirk. Deflection by humor is all you know.

“I was being romantic.” He groans, looking for something to throw at you. “Fine. I’m never doing anything like that again.”

"Please be patient while this update installs!" you call from the bathroom, already closing the door behind you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It's been a few minutes since the shower has been running and Namjoon can't stop thinking about how beautiful you looked beneath him. He stands at the stove with one hand tucked in the pocket of his sweatpants, the other holding a spatula so tightly his knuckles pale. Even the sound of bacon crackling can't distract him from the sight, the smell, the taste of you. He doesn't dare to peek his head around the corner.

He's still hard without imagining the way the water is rolling off your body. He doesn't need to go into the daydream of standing under that shower with you, pressing your tits against the glass and fucking you senseless. He definitely shouldn't be thinking about the water spilling onto your ass, your wet soapy hair knotted in his fist as he uses it to arch your back up towards him, or the sounds you might make as his cock disappears inside that tight little--

"Ah! Fuck!" he hisses.

The grease that splatters across his bare chest pulls him from his reverie. He turns off the burner and crosses the room, grabbing a shirt wedged between the couch cushions. As he turns around he freezes when he sees the bathroom door is wide open. That door doesn't move on its own. You did this, didn’t you? Are you trying to kill me, Geeksquad?

“You okay, Joonie?” you yell, voice echoing off the tile surrounding you.

His eyes are stuck on the blurry flesh tones peeking out from behind the textured glass, silently cursing each divot in its surface for the obfuscation of your form. The door slides open and you crane your neck to poke your head out, briefly swiping your hand over your eyes to clear the water from them. Suddenly your gaze is fixed on him, causing his teeth to clack together when he snaps his jaw shut.

Get it together, pervert, he scolds himself. The last thing he wants to do is screw this up and make you uncomfortable, but holy fuck he could cry at how hard you’ve made him again.

“Fi--ne.” His voice cracks and he clears his throat, walking towards the open door and fixing his gaze on the floor while clutching the shirt in his hand. “You, uh, left the door open. Do you want me to uh… shut it a little more?”

You shake your head, but realize he’s doing his damndest not to look. Saint Namjoon strikes again. Now it’s your turn to clear your throat. “Joonie.”

“Hmm?” His eyes dart to the tiled wall just outside of the shower. Close, but not close enough.

Come on, you plead, hoping he can read your mind. You roam your fingers through your soapy hair, swallowing the anxiety in your throat.

“Joonie, can you… look at me?”

His eyes waste no time racing to your face, taking a brief detour to the rippled glass clouding the details of your body. Feeling braver when his lips lazily drift apart, you slide the shower door open just a bit more to expose the outer curve of your breast.

“I left it open for you. I thought you might want to…” you purse your lips, feeling your chest tingle with uncertainty. This is so new and so hard to navigate, but you want it so badly you could cry. “Watch?”

“Watch...” He blinks slowly, brow furrowing in confusion like you’ve given him some complex equation to solve. “...you shower?”

Oh no. This is dumb. This isn’t hot. What are you doing? Forget it. You don’t know what sexy is, Y/N. Abort. Abort. Abort! Your eyes dance around the room, trying to focus on something else to calm the ringing in your ears, but your mouth keeps going anyway.

“I-I just thought, hey you know what this is a really nice bathroom. And this shower? I mean…” You don’t even pause as you grip the metal to slide the glass door shut, watching his obscured form hover in the doorway. “...look at this glass. So pretty! It’s like. Wow. Talk about craftsmanship. I’m actually surprised it’s still so clean considering how you live, y’know? Anyway I was just like hey, you know what would be a shame? Not letting Namjoon see his own shower. Yup. Just. I think you can really appreciate how it looks from the other side for once. Ha. It’s nice in here too, like from this side, but I think it’s good to see things from a new perspective every once in a while. Heheh, heh. D-Don’t you?”

His mouth splits into a grin and he drags his lips through his teeth, trying not to laugh. “Yeah it’s pretty great to see it like this. But uh… For a second it seemed like you wanted me to appreciate more than just the construction of my shower. Maybe the sexy woman in my shower? I could do that too, if you want.”

Sexy? The hot water nearly scalds your flesh as you turn the heat up, forcing steam to rise up and over the divider between the two of you. There’s that nervous laugh again, spilling out of your lips as you wash the suds from your hair.

“Eh? Oh no, the steam is too much I can’t see you. Namjoonie?” You lick your lips and slide the door to the side just enough to poke your head back out, allowing steam to billow out in puffs around your head. Your fingers stay curled around the opening, ready for the moment you feel brave again. “It’s not too much watching me… warm up?”

He wants to say it’s not enough, but he’ll gladly take what you give until you’re comfortable. He cocks his head to the side, dragging his lower lip through his teeth.

“I could watch you warm up all day. Though, I may suggest some other ways to do it so we’re not breaking my bank account with the water bill.”

Offering a shy grin you push the glass aside to reveal a sliver of your body for his thirsty eyes. Your palm glides up your body to cup the breast you’ve partially exposed. You angle your thigh towards the wall to show the water cascading down your skin. “Can you see me? Do you-Do you wanna get closer?”

It’s no use telling himself not to be so eager. He’s wished for this for such a long time that he can’t help the automatic steps he’s already walking across the vinyl flooring. He licks his lips and leans against the granite counter, preemptively brushing his fingers over the shape bulging in his sweatpants. “Is it okay if I do this?”

A longing sigh morphs into a strangled moan as it attempts to leave your throat. “Yes, please.”

At your sound those gentle strokes of his fingers turn into a palm roughly squeezing and tugging himself over the fabric.

Oh. Fuck. Me. That’s his dick. Your brain threatens to short-circuit at the sight of him palming himself over his pants. You can’t accept that the long shape beneath is actual size or you’ll fucking die. It has to be a trick of lighting, the bunched up gray material, or even your own mind. He doesn’t get to be attractive, smart, funny, and have a big dick. It’s in the laws of the universe. You refuse to believe it.

Even in your crisis your body responds to the sight of him. Shirtless, back slightly rounded as he uses the counter behind him for support, long fingers cupped around the shape of his cock, touching himself over his gray sweatpants like they’re not even there, and just watching you stand there like a statue with your breast hidden behind your hand. Taking a deep breath to gather your courage, you bump the metal frame on the slider with your elbow as you reach down between your legs. Smoky tendrils of water vapor reach out to draw Namjoon’s attention to the motion of you rubbing your swollen clit.

“Is this okay?” you ask.

His lips part in longing and his eyes roll back in his head for a fraction of a second. Your thumb works its way around your nipple as you massage the supple flesh in a circular motion, revealing a hardened peak in short bursts.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he groans, chest heaving as he plants a palm on the counter behind him and leans back on it as his other dives below the band at his waist.

If the vision of him palming his cock above the surface of his pants wasn’t driving you crazy enough, the sight of him pumping his cock below them sure fucking takes it to another level. The shower drowns out the sound of his fist frantically working himself from tip to base, but you’ve watched enough porn to be able to imagine it. You scan him up and down. His furrowed brow, half-lidded eyes, and open mouth have you leaning back against the wall for support, but it’s the fervent motion of his arm stretching his sweatpants that has your legs quaking beneath you.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, needing to pull the orgasm out before you collapse. Why did you think doing this in the shower was a great idea? Trying to focus on your orgasm while keeping yourself upright is torture. So close. So fucking close.

Your body is shaking as the water hits your torso, hand roaming your body for something more to help release the tension. Namjoon’s eyes are fixed on your chest, watching the water assail the flesh surrounding your nipple.

“That’s it, baby. You got it.”

He would scold himself for using a term of endearment he’s never used with you outside of his own fantasies, but you’re so fucked out he’s hoping you won’t call him out. The words of encouragement edge you towards release. You exhale a loud breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“Fuck, Namjoon. I can’t...”

His eyebrows seem permanently knotted together, as though begging you for his own release. He can’t even think straight anymore. “Do it for me, baby. Please.”

The sound of his pleading has you on the brink of letting go. You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling that surge coming. It’s going to hit you hard; you can tell. You straighten your legs, whole body tensing up.

“Oh fuck. Oh shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Joonie. Joonie. Joonie. J--”

Your foot slips.

The cause of your pained cry is multifaceted. First of all, the universe is a dick and loves to remind you that everything you do is forever shrouded in embarrassment and shame. Secondly, that orgasm was going to undoubtedly be the best in your fucking life and it was stolen from you by that fall. Thirdly, your hip feels like it’s been dipped in lava and no amount of biting your lip can help you play things cool.

Namjoon is hovering over you in an instant, shower spraying his back. “Are you okay?!’

Embarrassment floods your features as tears trickle down your cheeks. You want to nod in reassurance but you can’t help but shake it no. His hands cup the back of your head, forcing you to look into eyes that are too concerned to think straight.

“Did you hit your head?”

“No,” you manage to choke out between strained breaths. “Just my hip. Gimme a minute.”

You wail out a long sound, mostly just to vent your frustration at the situation. It makes him feel guilty even though he knows it’s not his fault. You sit up with a wince, but quickly burst into laughter when you notice he’s couched down in waterlogged sweatpants.

“Na-Namjoon, turn off the water,” you say, trying to hold back the giggles as you point up. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

He raises his eyebrows and blinks at you and then he looks down at himself. His mind was so preoccupied…

“Ah! Shit.” He reaches up to turn the knob and the water stops pouring through the head, though his sweatpants have already absorbed a massive amount. At least it made you feel better.

“Towel please,” you say, clutching your knees to your chest to try and cover your body.

He shakes his stupor off and leans out to grab the fluffy white towel hanging nearby. “You know, you can’t blame me for not thinking straight,” he grumbles, handing it over. “We were... having a moment.”

“I know,” you admit with a smirk, wrapping it around you. “I was enjoying it. Too much obviously.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

He helps you into his bed and encourages you to lay back against the pillows, despite your protests that your hair is soaking wet and will dry before that pillow ever does.

“It’s fine. Relax,” he says rummaging through a drawer nearby. He disappears for a moment, the wet squelching beneath his feet indicating he’s going back into the bathroom, but you can still hear him. “You should probably rest your side.”

When he returns he’s sporting a pair of black oversized basketball shorts and he’s got both hands stuffed in his pockets. His golden brown skin seems to glow under the soft LED candles, shadows carved into muscles you never realized he possessed. The mattress sinks when he sits down on the edge of the bed beside you and you gulp.

“I’m fine. I’m just a clutz.”

“That makes two of us.” He smiles, eyeing the place where the two ends of the towel meet at your thigh.

“Can I look?” he asks without a second thought.

Your face burns with the flames of embarrassment. “Wh-What?”

His eyes widen as they snap to your face. “Uhhh, your injury! I definitely wasn’t asking to see your clit again. I mean, not that I wouldn’t love to see it again. I would. I just, uh…” He coughs and runs a hand through his hair. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

You grin like a smitten fool, glad to not be the only one struggling with composure. The sound of the rain pelting the window nearby has become comfortable padding for the moments of silence you’re unsure how to fill. Slowly, you reach down to pull the towel aside just enough to reveal the red welt at your hip.

He grits his teeth and cringes. “Ouch.”

“It really doesn’t hurt that bad now,” you try to reason.

“Yeah, that’s bullshit.”

“No, really, it’s just a little…” you feel along the reddened patch of skin and flinch when your fingers make contact, allowing a little hiss to pass through your teeth. “...tender.”

“Hmm.” He looks at it closely, trying to figure out if there’s anything he can do. “Ah. Hold tight.”

He leaves and returns with an ice pack, gently pressing the cloth into your side to offer relief.

“That’s better, thank you,” you say, overlaying your hand on his and holding the pack in place. “But there is one more thing you can do, if you want.”

“Hmm?”

“Kiss it better?”

“I don’t think it works like that,” he says with a smirk, already pressing his lips to the skin outside of the ice pack.

Your eyes close and you roll your head back into the soft pillows. The sensation of his lips skimming the outside of your hip is driving you crazy, but he never lifts the pack. Instead he skirts around it and begins kissing down the outside of your thigh.

“Hold this in place, okay?”

His hand slips out from beneath yours and you look up just in time to catch him running the flat of his tongue in a line to your knee. As his dark eyes check in with you, he bends your knee enough to dip his head beneath it and press his lips to this side. Your calf rests on his shoulder as he begins to suck on the tender flesh at your inner thigh. He lightly nips at the skin and pauses, seeking your approval.

“Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes, please, yes.”

He smiles, sucking your skin between his teeth and basking in the delighted sigh that passes your lips in response. You wiggle your hips as he works his way up, anticipating those big soft lips finally pressing where you want them the most. He climbs onto the bed on his elbows, positioning himself between your legs to get more comfortable. He pauses to admire the string of marks he’s left behind.

He grins when you hook your other leg around his shoulder and buck your hips towards him with need. “What, impatient already?”

“I was so fucking close, Joon,” you whine.

“I know. Don’t worry. I’ll get there. Chill,” he laughs, turning his face back to your thigh and pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses into it.

Despite this being everything he wants, he’s worried if he goes too fast, he won’t be able to enjoy it. He wants to take his time with you. You moan as he sucks another bruise into the soft flesh, inches away from your dripping cunt. He can practically taste that sweet tang on his mouth as he breathes in. To think you were embarrassed about this earlier… Ridiculous. Feeling the heat of your sex so close, he pauses to rest his cheek on the inside of your thigh and swipes his tongue out a few times to tease your labia.

You ball the edge of the towel in your fist and swipe the material away from your body. It’s useless to you now anyway. “Fuck. Namjoon. Please. Just do it already.”

“Do what?” He plays dumb as he smirks, lapping at your outer folds with the tip of his tongue.

You turn your head to the side and whimper against the pillow. The words are both breathless and desperate as they come out. “Please, eat this fucking pussy.”

So much for taking his time. He wraps his arms around your legs and drags you down just a bit meet his hungry mouth, groaning into your clit as he presses the flat of his tongue against it. Heaven. You taste like fucking heaven. He’ll eat you out every day for the rest of his life if you let him.

“Oh, god, yes,” you cry out, forgetting about the ice pack you’re clutching at your waist.

Both of your hands shoot down to tangle in his hair and he has to stop himself from grinding his hips down into the mattress as you tug. While he doesn’t want to cum in his pants, he allows himself to steal a glance up at the way your breasts have pushed together with your arms like this. Another breathy groan sends vibrations rippling from your clit up to your belly and it earns another weak moan from you in return.

“Fuck,” you whisper, propping yourself up on your elbows to get a better view of the man eating you out better than anyone ever has.

You squeeze at your breasts, trying to keep yourself from pushing his head against you even harder. Just when you think he can’t be any more sinful, you feel the first finger glide into your pussy. You tense and take a loud inhale. Holy shit.

When you don’t make the pornstar noise he expects, his ego deflates a tiny bit. He lifts his head to look at your fucked out expression, noting the almost pained way your eyebrows come together and your eyes snap shut, rolling your head to one side.

“Nonononono, don’t stop, please.”

Based on that reaction, he already knows the answer and he feels foolish for asking. “Are you enjoying it?”

It’s not that he’s insecure. At all. You’re just not making the sounds other girls have made once he’s gotten them here. Okay, maybe he’s a teeny bit insecure. He continues to pump his finger into you, feeling the tightness in your walls clamp down on him. It’s hard not to imagine what that might feel like surrounding his throbbing cock. There’s the subtle chase of your hips coming down to meet his palm every time he thrusts his finger up into you. Watching it disappear inside you makes his eyes roll back.

“Joon, do you think I’d be this wet if I wasn’t enjoying it? Please. Keep going.”

He wets his lips, tasting you on them again before sucking back down on your clit. When he realizes how effortlessly his finger is gliding inside you he decides to add another, smiling when he feels your pussy clench and adjust to the newest intrusion.

“Na-Namjoon!” you cry out, throwing your head back.

“Mmm?” he hums innocently against you, flicking his tongue against that sensitive bundle of nerves.

Each pass he makes in tandem with his fingers causes that tingling heat in your belly to grow.

Your legs are shaking but your clit is starting to go numb, and a nervousness swells inside of you, blocking out all sensations of pleasure. You told him you’re a mess. You warned him. There’s so much you wish you could change about your brain. But the anxiety over letting go, of not being able to soothe the ache of another person’s shattered confidence ensures you won’t be able to reach that finish line without some miracle. It feels incredible at certain moments, but every time start to let yourself give in, your body tenses, reminding yourself there’s so much riding on making him feel good by reaching that climax.

If he’s anything like the guys you’ve been with in the past, he’ll focus on it. He’s not though, is he? Now you’re focusing on it. Now you definitely can’t cum. You don’t want to hurt his feelings. Could you just fake it? Would he know?

You’re unaware of the worry plastered on your face and as he looks up to read your expression, it tips him off. Ego only slightly battered, he removes his fingers from your pussy and licks them clean before climbing up the mattress beside you. Thankful for his ability to read your body language, you grab the towel and cling to it, clamping your legs shut and turning to face him.

“You’re anxious,” he says plainly, though you can’t help but take it as an accusation.

“You’re hot,” you fire back with a nervous laugh.

“And you look like a goddess right now, but that’s besides my point. Talk to me, Y/N. What’s wrong? Did I do something you didn’t like? You can tell me.”

You feel so fucking guilty. He’s too good for you.

“Look, you know I have trouble letting things go. Pleasure is… no different. I start to and then—”

“You panic?”

You nod and hug the towel close to your chin. “The last person I was with put a lot of stress on making me… you know, finish. And it was always, always my fault when I couldn’t. There was so much pressure over it that I forgot how to relax with another person. I couldn’t because I was thinking about how mad they’d be if I couldn't.”

“You know you don’t have to worry about that with me,” he says, pressing you towards his chest in a hug. “All I care about is whether or not you’re having a good time. I only stopped because I could tell you weren’t.”

“I just...I forgot how to let go. It’s been a long time since that person and still. I can’t do it unless I’m the one with my fingers…” You clear your throat, feeling embarrassed at having to have this conversation. “I know you’re not like them, but it’s hard. I feel like I failed you already.”

“Okay, one? Too much pressure on yourself. This is a partnership so let me take some responsibility. Which feeds into point two. It’s been…” He sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck as he counts the years. “A while for me too. You know, my skills could probably use some work. We should probably practice if we want to get better at making each other feel good.”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Yeah, about that. Are you gonna stick your dick in me or what? I want to make you feel good too.”

His cock twitches in his pants and he presses his lips together. “Okay, for real? We were having a real, deep, thoughtful conversation about overcoming obstacles together and you just want me balls deep.” He can’t help but crack a smile. “I see how it is.”

You wave your hand in the air dismissively. “No, no. If you wanna plan it out in excruciating detail how you’re gonna make me cum all over your fingers and your tongue, be my guest. I just figured it was time I offered something other than my tech services. But, whatever, man.”

He swallows hard, deciding to play into the game a little more. “Great. We’re on the same page then. First of all that’s your humor defense mechanism and I will not be tricked into believing you’re just gonna--Ah...”

His words break off into a moan when you nip at the brown, pebbled nipple practically calling your name.

He groans. “Playing dirty?”

“Well, I am a dirty girl, right?” you ask, playfully planting a string of hot, wet kisses across the firm muscles on his chest.

“Hobi’s nickname for you is that accurate huh? Think he’ll abandon it now that you’re mine?”

“Oh, I’m yours, huh?” you tease, kissing lines down his stomach.

“Those love bites on your thighs say you are,” he says with an amused grin as you sit up straight.

“That’s just one thigh. The rest of me is fair game, don’t you think?” You giggle when that smile turns into a frown and you move to tease the band of his shorts down.

His hands grip the back of your neck and he pulls you down into a kiss. “I’ll just have to leave my name all over you then, hmm?” he whispers in a low, breathy tone that makes your pussy clench. “Is that what you want?”

He pulls on your hair, forcing you to expose your neck to him. He latches on, sucking and laving his tongue across it. You moan, reaching down for his waistband once again, fumbling to get it down past the erection sticking straight up. He helps wiggle them past his butt and kicks them down his leg, making sure he has freedom of movement he needs. You gape at the sight of the dark, veiny cock standing at attention as he sucks another bruise into the crook of your neck. You gasp in a hungry breath, trying to keep your mouth from watering at the sight of precum beading atop its dusty pink head. You’ve never wanted to ride someone’s dick so hard in your life. You move to straddle his waist, allowing him to dive down your collarbone and suck at the soft tissue leading down towards your nipple.

He grins against your breast, trying to subdue the tremble of his fingers as they settle on your hips.

“Ah!” you wince, realizing that welt from your fall is still pretty tender as his fingers ghost over them.

“Sorry,” he murmurs against your nipple, teasing it with his tongue before sucking it in his mouth.

“It’s fine. Is it okay if I…” you position yourself over his dick and let it rest flat against his stomach. You slowly settle yourself on top and rock yourself back and forth, grinding your soaking clit perfectly on the head of his cock.

“Use me,” he grunts, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you down so he can get his mouth back on your nipple. “Please.”

There’s a dull pain in your side as his arms graze that spot and the way you’re grinding against him certainly doesn’t help, but you’re so fucked out and needy you’re pretty sure you could walk through fire for this man. It feels like his cock was made for sliding against your folds like this.

Your panting only grows more frantic as he switches his attention to your other breast. He nibbles at the neglected nipple and digs his fingers into the small of your back to keep from shaking as you roll your body against him.

“You feel so good Joonie,” you whine, fingernails digging into his chest.

He flinches at the daggers leaving crescent impressions over his heart and forces air through his teeth. If you keep this up, he’s going to be making a big mess all up his chest.

“Condoms. I have condoms,” he mumbles.

“I have an IUD,” you whisper. “We don’t have to if you don’t wanna.”

“I don’t wanna mess this up,” he whispers, pulling you down into a kiss as your clit continues to grind against his girthy length. You can feel his abs tense as his tip kisses your opening. “Ask me again when I’m not already so fucking close to putting it in. I can’t think straight.”

“That means we should. Where are they?” You whimper as his fingers reach down to rub tiny, gentle circles against your clit and he points to the nightstand beside the bed.

He sucks air through his teeth as your pussy spasms in response to his fingers touching you. You lean forward to reach for the drawer and he sucks your tit in his mouth, working his mouth over the flesh and letting his tongue leave trails all over your chest as you move forward.

“Joonie, you’re making it really hard to concentrate,” you chide, reaching in the drawer and pulling out the little box thankfully sitting on top of whatever other oddities he keeps inside that drawer. “How old are these?”

You flip the tiny box over in your hands, trying to read the packaging while he kisses your neck. Fuck, why is the type so small?

“Mmm bought em a few weeks ago,” he hums into your neck. “After the whole sleeping in your bed thing. Just in case.”

“3-pack, huh? Think you’d get that lucky?” you tease, ripping open the box. “You didn’t even open it yet. What if I asked you to fuck me when we were out?”

“You wouldn’t. You’re too shy.” He laughs, yoinking the condoms from your hand.

You puff your cheeks out at him. “But like… I could have though.”

“No, you couldn’t have,” he reminds you, eagerly tearing the foil in half. “Firewall.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You right.” You roll off him to give him space, chewing on a nail as you admire his form.

He breathes a soft sound through his teeth, trying to calm the nerves racing through his chest. You see the way his fingers tremble as they struggle to roll the latex down his shaft so you place your hands on top of his and help him. Yours aren’t much better in terms of stability, but you want him to know you’ll be nervous going into this together.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to worry with me either.”

A jagged breath escapes him as he leans into you. “I know.”

He breathes out trepidation before moving in to claim your lips with his own. The weight of his body presses you down into the mattress as he gently wedges himself between your legs. You can feel his tip poking at your entrance and you can’t help but wiggle your hips, hoping he’ll guide himself inside soon. You want to feel that delicious stretch with Namjoon filling you to the hilt and holding you close.

His hips are still as he dives his tongue in your mouth, cock offering only the slightest twitch at the way he can feel your walls pulsing, threatening to pull him in at any second. There’s no way he’s going to last if he goes in now. He just needs a second to compose himself. Maybe a few. Maybe a minute? His fingers trail shaky lines over your jaw, trying to distract you with the passion in his kiss.

“Are you okay?” you ask, breaking the kiss and watching his eyes carefully. “We don’t have to do this if you’re having second thoughts. If you’re not in, then neither am I. We can go watch a movie instead.”

“It’s not that.” He shakes his head with a dramatic sigh, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “You feel too good.”

“But you haven’t even… I mean, not really—”

“This feels too good,” he corrects himself, running a palm up and down your arm. “Being with you.”

“How is that a problem?” you ask, confusion marring your features as you run your fingers through his hair. “I feel like I’m floating, like I wanna keep chasing this high because I never wanna come down off of you. I want to feel even closer. ”

He exhales a long breath. How does he phrase this? “Uh, it’s a problem because I’m too excited. I want this to last and—”

“Oh you’re worried about cumming too soon?”

He swallows his embarrassment, saying nothing as he kisses at your collarbone.

“Don’t be. I don’t care how long you last. I just want to make you feel good. We’ll go for as long as you last and we have two more condoms for later, hmm? We can always get more if you’re feeling wild. My treat.”

“Sugar momma?” He looks up at you with adoration, your grin spreading to his lips as he presses them against you.

“Ew.” You laugh against him. “Me and my five dollars are going home, sorry. I’m out now.”

“Don’t play, come on.” He laughs softly, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper, pulling him into a deep kiss.

That’s when you feel his tip teasing your hole, slowly entering like he’s afraid he’s going to break you. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders as he sinks in, sighing in ecstasy against his lips. Your pussy squeezes him tight, already threatening to milk him dry before he’s even bottomed out inside you. Your walls pulse around him and you moan his name softly in his ear. Oh.Shit. Shit Shit.

He panics, sinking the rest of the way down as though burying himself inside you can hide the orgasm cresting too fast to stop. You cry out, clamping your arms around his back at the sudden stretch.

“Oh fuck, baby.” His breathing stutters and he pulls maybe halfway out before he slams his hips back into you, balls tapping against your ass. “Shit. I’m sorry. Fuck. I’m cumming.”

“Joonie, I love you. It’s okay. I love you,” you whisper between passionate kisses.

His dick twitches inside you as he grunts, letting your tight pussy squeeze the cum out of him until he’s pretty sure he’s spilled everything he has into the condom. He’s breathing heavy, peppering your jaw with soft kisses. He’s growing soft inside you and it’s so fucking sensitive to subject himself to staying, but fuck, he doesn’t want to leave the comfort of your warm cunt.

With a defeated sigh, he ties the condom in a knot and tosses it in the trash before laying down beside you. “I swear I’m not a failure at everything.”

“You’re not a failure at anything. Come here, Joonie.” You gesture towards yourself, smushing your tits together for him as though he needed more incentive to climb on your chest.

He grunts but obliges, resting his head on your breasts and allowing you to comb your fingers through his hair. You place a chaste kiss on the top of his head. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He turns his head into your skin and gives you a wet kiss right outside your nipple. When you shudder he grins.

“This was just… practice. I learned a lot already,” you shyly comfort him. “Like. Wow. Vaginas are amazing. I can really take that much dick. Crazy.” You pause to watch him smile. “Ha, knew I could get you to laugh. Don’t worry. I have a feeling we’ll do even better next round.”

“You want another round after that?”

“Mmm-hmm. Very much,” you giggle and lean in, voice low. “Now that I know how sexy you sound when you cum, how am I supposed to resist you? What, I’m just supposed to forget and let that memory go? Uh-uh.”

He looks down at his flaccid dick and sighs. “I need time to recharge.”

“That’s fine. I mean, you’ll give me some time to get worked up again too. Didn’t you mention breakfast? Weren’t you gonna show me your mad cooking skills?” you tease, poking his sweaty side with a finger.

He jumps up, not remembering if he turned the burner off or not. “Oh shit. The bacon!”

You start cackling as the image of Namjoon running out of the room stark naked sears itself into your brain for eternity. You reach over for your phone, debating texting Jennie about everything. You quickly decide you want to keep this to yourself for at least the rest of the afternoon. Tonight is Saturday, after all and it’s bound to come out once everyone is together.

You roll on your side and listen to the rain falling against the window. So this is love, huh? It’s nice.

[officialleotolstoy]

Oh Dolokhov Brainrot We’re Really In It Now, aka Dolokhov playlist annotations!

A note on the cover photo: I don’t really like this one but I got tired of looking at men on Pinterest so I gave up. The window symbolizes the rum window and the smoking symbolizes uhhhhh habitual bad life choices idk

Drinking game take a shot every time I say “it’s about the vibes”

Wrecking Ball - Mother Mother

“I break it just because I can”

This is THEE ‘I am going to cause problems on purpose’ song and that is like his entire narrative purpose!! Argue with me about this one I dare you

The Good, The Bad, and the Dirty - Panic! At The Disco

“If you wanna start a fight you better throw the first punch, make it a good one”

Partially its just vibes, I won’t lie. But also the consistent spoiling for a fight is very in character

Shoot to Thrill - AC/DC

“I’m like evil, I get under your skin”

It’s got I Am Morally Repulsive But Also I’ll Steal Your Girl energy which really hits all of Dolokhov’s character traits. And of course the added bonus of gun imagery.

Mr. Brightside - The Killers

“It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this”

I added it strictly for vibes, but then I realized the quoted lyric is very much him @ the Kuragins if you take the reading that he refuses to admit he actually like them but grows genuinely fond of them over time even though he initially got to know them with a lot of ulterior motives.

Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen

“Mama, I just killed a man”

The amount of songs that are on these playlists just for what are essentially your mom jokes since Dolokhov loves his mom so much is a little pathetic. But I’m not wrong! I can’t really put it into words but something about this song has Dolokhov energy.

Feel It Still - Portugal the Man

“Give in to that easy living, goodbye to your hopes and dreams”

A good deal of what I find interesting about Dolokhov is the internal conflict he has of knowing he’s become rather wicked and problematic but also not really trying very hard to change and almost enjoying it so a lot of the songs on here are about that, including this one. The “I’m a rebel just for kicks now” also very much screams Causing Problems On Purpose.

The Bidding - Tally Hall

“I like to take advantage of the bourgeoisie”

His whole role in volume one and two is to take advantage of the bourgeoisie! This song also oozes confidence and a sense of superiority that comes from being better than the sellouts in high society, Dolokhov’s not like other girls uwu (he really is, but I don’t think he would admit that).

Say Amen (Saturday Night) - Panic! At The Disco

“I could be better but baby it’s Saturday night”

Embracing his own wickedness! The idea that he knows he could be better than he is but he doesn’t want to take that opportunity...yeah vibes

Wilson (Expensive Mistakes) - Fall Out Boy

“I became such a strange shape from trying to fit in”

This is the epitome of the “woe is me I need to be purified” phase he goes through when he’s into Sonya. Also “I’ll stop wearing black when they make a darker color” reminds me of Comet Dolokhov’s stupid eyeliner <3

Some Nights - fun.

“So what is this? I sold my soul for this?”

There’s a long stretch of this playlist that just boils down to “Woe is me I need to be purified” crisis hours, because Dolokhov’s oscillation between embracing his own cruelty and trying to be a good person is super interesting to me. This song captures the idea that he’s still having fun and there’s some good there, but he’s also aware that he’s losing himself a bit

Roaring 20s - Panic! At The Disco

“I don’t even know me”

“Woe is me i need to be purified” crisis AGAIN. This song gets more to the annoyance with society as a whole and feeling kind of lost in it

Send Them Off! - Bastille

“Help me exorcise my mind”

“Please purify me 16 year old girl! I’m 27 this isnt creepy at all ahahahha”. I do despise Sonyakhov but this has the vibes of a man feeling his own evil and wanting a woman to fix it. Not a great look.

Easy Days (Demo) - Bastille

“I don’t wanna fall back again, back into the easy days”

Near the end of the “woe is me I need to be purified” phase when he’s kind of drifting back to his old ways and he’s like wait no- wait- and then he does anyway because he’s horrible. I also really like the acknowledgment that his horribleness is easy and pleasant for him, and he has to fight against that (and he loses that fight HDJAJJD).

Undisclosed Desires - Muse

“You trick your lovers that you’re wicked and divine”

This is a Dolokhov/Nikolai song I do not take constructive criticism. Undisclosed desires...not being straight...lots to think about! It feels almost like a corruption arc? Nikolai isn’t corrupted nor does their...fling (?) last very long but Nikolai is obviously enamored with Dolokhov despite him being The Worst so I think this fits. I don’t have enough songs for a Nikolai/Dolokhov playlist so I just add those songs to both of their individual playlists

Thnks fr th Mmrs - Fall Out Boy

“Thanks for the memories even though they weren’t so great”

Also mostly a Nikolai/Dolokhov song. This man has never ended a relationship on good terms, huh. Also. Sighs heavily. “He tastes like you only sweeter” never fails to make me laugh when I think about it in the context of Dolokhov post-duel being like oh?? You’re just a stupid WOMAN Hélène your brother and/or Nikolai is hotter than you :/ which is not exactly what I think happened but it makes me laugh to consider. Dolokhov ur bitterrrrr

Dangerous - Royal Deluxe

“I’ll be the last man standing here, I’m not going anywhere”

I feel like this has the vibes of his cruelty, especially in that bit after the Kuragins have died when he and Petya infiltrate the French army.

Another One Bites The Dust - Queen

“There are plenty of ways you can hurt a man”

He will hurt you and kill you so violently :) It’s about the vibes.

White Wedding Pt. 1 - Billy Idol

“It’s a nice day to start again”

In the exact inverse to his “woe is me I need to be purified” phase, he’s like ok yes i will pick up bad habits again and enjoy them because frick you! I read once that this song is about a relapse into drugs, but I’m making it analogous to his relapse into Terrible Person Behavior after Sonya’s rejection. Also the repetition of the phrase little sister does something for my brain idk, after we know he loves his mom and sister it just fits.

Highway to Hell - AC/DC

“I’m on the highway to hell and I’m goin down”

Like White Wedding, it screams acceptance of his problematicness. He knows he’s cruel and evil and he revels in it. This is the phase we see him in most I think.

Back in Black - AC/DC

“It’s been too long, I’m glad to be back”

I think this plays every time he gets reinstated to an army position he lost by being reckless earlier. Just kidding sort of but listen to this song and tell me it doesn’t have Dolokhov vibes. If you do, you’re wrong <3

Poet - Bastille

“I have written you down now, you will live forever”

This is just here cause he ghostwrote Anatole’s love letters and I think it’s funny. It’s MY playlist and I get to choose the barely relevant Bastille songs

St. Jude - Florence + The Machine

“Maybe I’ve always been more comfortable in chaos”

This one’s more scattered lyrics than an overall vibe. “Each side is a loser so who cares who fired the gun” has duel energy also.

Hey Look Ma, I Made It - Panic! At The Disco

Confession: I hate this song. However, it’s about the about the MOM R U PROUD OF ME vibes (she is. Should she be? Probably not).

Rich Kids - Bea Miller

“It’s never enough for the stuck up types”

The not coming from wealth and having to almost scam your way into being part of the aristocratic scene is very Dolokhov. Also in my mind the rich kid he’s roasting is specifically Nikolai.

Money, Money, Money - ABBA

“It’s a rich man’s world”

I’m not SAYING the wealthy man they talk about is Anatole but - [i am shot]. Scheming and clawing your way up to wealth is Dolokhovcore.

This Is Gospel - Panic! At The Disco

I literally have no justification for this other than that i think modern AU Dolokhov would vibe with it. Look at the amount of eyeliner he wears in Comet and tell me he didn’t have an emo band phase. You can’t.

Trouble’s Coming - Royal Blood

This is not about the words at all, it’s more about the vibes. It just sounds Dolokhovish to me, don’t ask me to explain.

Sleep Alone - Two Door Cinema Club

“They’re just ghosts and they can’t hurt him if he can’t see them”

This gives me post-Kuragins’ death vibes, and I can’t pin down exactly why? I think it’s the idea of being very alone and closed off.

Golden Days - Panic! At The Disco

I can’t put a specific lyric to it but it’s the vibes of looking back on your hedonistic youths with nostalgia and rose-colored glasses. Post-Kuragins’ death vibes again.

Go Get Your Gun - The Dear Hunter

“One foot in the grave, the other one’s kickin’ its way right down to hell”

All we see of him after the Kuragins’ death is just him being particularly cruel and reckless, almost careless. This feels like it encapsulates that energy.

The Fallen - Franz Ferdinand

“They say you’re a troubled boy just because you like to destroy”

I’m aware that a good portion of this song is about a Christ figure but I’m going to respectfully ask you to ignore that bit and just focus on all the Sketchy Things the guy does instead. Thank you. He does in fact like to destroy things! Señor Cause Problems On Purpose back at it again at krispy kreme, huh.

[lacrossepapi]

Hold Your Devil By His Spoke

Hi! This is my gift to @tahlreth for the @stetersecretsanta exchange! I went way deep off the prompt for this so uh I hope you like it and if you dont thats okay cause I wrote you another one! 

Ao3: Link                 Words:3099               Chapters: 1/1

The earth here still remembered his presence, the branches gently caressing him as he treaded softly underneath. The Beacon Hills Forest Preserve would always remember him and the taste of his family’s blood, though it was different now, changed forever by the feet of strangers. He found himself growling at the amount of garbage he could smell in his homeland.

Tourists.

The thought caused him to growl again. Who let these strangers trample this powerful, untamed land, so charged he could practically feel it thrumming beneath him?

This was Peter Hale’s home and the land knew it.

Approaching the ruins of his family’s once magnificent plantation would never be easy, but Peter was a resilient man. He’d been left standing after his home had burned and he would still be standing after the world was bathed in Hellfire and Brimstone. The Lord taketh away, but he would be giving eventually, if he didn’t Peter would just have to start taking.

Peter leaned against an old oak when his ears picked up the sound of a rumbling jeep. The only cars allowed in the preserve were the law and the handsome ranger Peter had glimpsed through a window sleeping on his desk when he’d entered the preserve. Peter would bet his inheritance that the Jeep rumbling towards him was not the law.

I said Lord, don't have mercy on me I'm looking for a light in the darkest of streets I said Lord, don't you have mercy on me I'm looking for a light in the darkest of streets

Peter rolled his eyes at the boy who drove past singing at the top of his lungs. Definitely not the law.

He sneaked through the overgrown grass, following the loud rumbling jeep with its loud caterwauling driver. This road went to the old Hale plantation and nowhere else, Peter felt anger wrap around him like a well known lover. Why did this loud annoying young man think he had any right to sully the god given land his ancestors had owned for generations?

Peter waited on the edge of the clearing till the sun had dipped low and the owls had started rustling in the trees before he finally heard the young man approaching, this time whistling Lonesome Drifter like a proper southern gentleman.

The boy reeked of cleaning chemicals and there was a lightness to him like he’d just caught the prize winning turkey at the fair, Peter didn't’t like it.

Peter turned around and quietly ran through the forest, leaping over rotten stumps as he raced to get ahead of the old jeep.

The sound of brakes screaming like the rapture hurt Peter’s ears but it was worth it.

“Holy shit fire, what the hell are you doin’ in the road there?” the young ranger’s voice called out as he shoved his head out the window to properly look at Peter.

“Afternoon, ranger! I seem to have gotten lost on my way out of this here park. I followed the sound of your singin’ and that ole’ beauty you got there and found the road, but I’m not quite sure where in the hell I am!” Peter hated talking like this.

He might have been born and raised in Beacon County but that didn’t mean he had to put his good education to waste, though a little Southern charm added to some simple ignorance always went a long way.

“Well shit, yeah I’ll take ya back to the ranger’s station. Promise not to tell anyone you got lost in my woods though, sir!” the ranger gave him a bright charming smile, but Peter knew the smell of shit by heart and this boy stunk like a pig pen.

Peter smiled back at the boy and lifted himself into the Jeep with a quiet grunt. Something was off about this young man and Peter wanted to know what he was doing in the Hale mansion.

“I was tryin’ to see the haunted house y'all got out here but I got dreadfully lost. Have you been?”

“Why yes I have, I’m comin’ from the old Hale house right now.” the ranger’s tone had lost its cheery edge.

“What’s it like?”

“Empty”

“Well it’s not empty if you’re in it right?” Peter laughed a charming sound.

“No, I guess not.” Now the ranger sounded plum irritated.  

“So, what were you doing up there?” Peter asked casually.

“I was just makin’ sure the teenagers weren’t drinkin’ in there again.”

“Kids these days are much wilder than my cousins and I were.”  Peter chuckled.

“Well sugar we’re here. Is your car close?” The ranger was all smiles once again now that Peter had backed off the topic of the Hale mansion.

“I walked here actually. Thanks for the ride, darlin.” Peter smiled before gasping, “I’m so rude! I didn’t even ask your name!”

“It’s Stiles Stilinski, sir. And yours?” Stiles asked curiously once they were both stand out in front of the jeep.

“Peter.”

Stiles smiled his fakest smiled yet and said, “Well nice to meet you Peter No-Last-Name. Next time you want to go off the trails in my woods take a guide.”

With those parting words the ranger turned and entered the little station.

Peter would have to monitor this boy with his shiny smiles and lifeless intelligent eyes, something wasn’t right here.

-

The humidity hung through the air like a veil in Beacon Hills, one had to cross the veil with every step. Peter had never experienced the powerful feeling anywhere else. The sun made its presence overwhelmingly known throughout Peter’s day of crouching behind beat up two-door trucks and large well manicured shrubbery.

The young ranger lived an ordinary life, if one didn’t noticed the emptiness in his eyes or the way his aura screamed Danger. There was a sparking, angry energy wrapped around the man that the sweet, God fearing residents of Beacon Hills didn’t seem to notice. Peter could see it’s tendrils slithering towards people the longer Stiles talked to them, could see the way Stiles’ hands twitched when it touched someone.

During the day Stiles Stilinski was the son of the good sheriff that’d left this world too soon and the preserve ranger who kept the kids out of trouble. He was the epitome of a good southern boy and the townsfolk ate out his hand.

“This boy stinks more than a donkey in August heat.” Peter mumurred to himself once he’d finally sat down in the air conditioned Country Kitchen.

He’d been so preoccupied trying to find something that wasn’t disgustingly bad for the body that he had missed the door opening, but there was no way Peter could miss the electric taste of Stiles’ presence. His blue eyes flashed once before he looked up to smile charmingly at the other man.

“Well hello there, handsome ranger.” “Peter No-Last-Name I oughtta call your momma for that shameless flattery.” Stiles’ grin was more predatory than playful like a hyena on the hunt.

“She’s dead, bless her soul, so she’d be kind of hard to reach just for a tattlin’.” Peter had casually thrown it out to gauge Stiles’ reaction, but the man just shrugged.

“Mine’s gone too, bless her soul, don’t mean I can’t go tattlin’ anyways.” he flashed a cheeky grin.

“‘What can I get you two lovely boys?” The waitress’ appearance almost startled Peter, he’d been so wrapped up in his banter with Stiles he hadn’t noticed her approaching.

Stiles flashed one more sharp grin at Peter before his smile became sweet as molasses, “Can I get the Country Fried Chicken with grits and Country Gravy on both of those please, honey.”

“Sure thing sugar. What you want to drink?”

“Now darlin’ you ought to know I’d want a nice cold sweet tea.” Stiles replied with a wink.

The waitress giggled and hit his shoulder lightly before calling him a flatterer with the devil’s tongue.

Peter was enraptured by the display of effortless charm Stiles was putting on, now he just knew it was all candy coated lies.

“I’ll have the same please.”

“Coming right up, hun. Yall behave while I’m gone” she left them with a wink of her own and danced across the dining room to get to the kitchen.

“You’re as slippery as a snake.” Stiles’ words caught Peter off guard with their frigid delivery.

“Now why would you say a thing like that to a practical stranger?” Peter asked, leaning forward to rest his chin on his fist and inclining an eyebrow.

“Well, we aren’t exactly strangers are we Peter David Hale?” Stiles mirrored Peter’ body language while Peter tried not to react.

“No I guess we are not Mieczyslaw Jonathan Stilinski.” Peter smirked at the boy.

“Did you practice my name in the mirror for your big villain reveal?”

“Well you did the big villain reveal first now didn’t you? Are either of us an actual villain Stiles?”

The smile dropped from Stiles’ face and his expression turned stormy, Peter could feel the crackling tenders approaching him.

“I’d appreciate if your little friends didn’t leech my energy.” Peter finally got Stiles to show surprise with that reveal.

“Interesting.”

The men sat in charged silence until their waitress returned for refills and their plates.

“Thank you ma’am.” Peter smiled at the waitress, causing her to blush.

“The two of you could rule the world with your flattery alone.” The waitress smiled at both of them one more time before departing again.

“We would be formidable.” Stiles sounded like he was contemplating something.

“I am intrigued to see exactly what you’re doing out in those woods, ranger.”

Stiles nodded, “Well it looks like I’m takin’ ya out there, so hurry up now and finish your grits.”

-

Peter wasn’t foolish, he told the ranger he would meet him at the Hale mansion on his own. The jeep was a good place to try to incapacitate him and Peter wasn’t going to give Stiles the chance.

Peter let the preserve wrap around him once more as he hiked to the Hale mansion. The moss covered trees reached out to caress Peter as he passed, the wind moaning his family name. Peter’s blood was singing in his veins as he approached the clearing around his old home.

The younger man was leaning against his jeep singingly loudly.

Don’t care if he’s guilty, don’t care if he’s not

He’s good and he’s bad and he’s all that I’ve got

Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I’m begging you please

Don’t take that sinner from me

Oh don’t take that sinner from me

Peter entered the clearing as the boy finished.

“Perfect timing the song is just ending.” Stiles grinned before leaning in the window of his Jeep to turn it off.

Peter took a moment to get a good look at the ranger’s ass before he pushed his attraction aside and remembered this evening was most likely going to end in murder, and he wasn’t as confident that he’d win as he’d like to be.

“Well if you’re done looking at my rump let me show you what I’ve been doing out here.” Stiles’ grin and eyes were sharp with mischief.

“It’s a nice ass to look at darlin’.”

Stiles’ laughter echoed in the hollow bones of Peter’s childhood home. Peter wasn’t stupid enough to lead like Stiles was trying to make him, this was no longer the place of his memories Stiles had taken this skeleton and given it life again. Peter would not step blindly in this place, especially when he glimpsed a tripwire near the entrance. Stiles had set up traps but the more of them Peter noticed the more he also noticed the traps were set to spring as if to keep someone in than to keep someone out.

“Why are there so many traps?”

“You have keen eyes Peter Hale.”

Stiles’ response offered no answers and Peter rolled his eyes at the man’s back. Peter took a moment to let his shift wash over his eyes, with his wolf eyes he could see many many traps all over the house. Peter let the shift fall away before Stiles could see, but wasn’t sure the man hadn’t already figured it out anyways.

The deeper they went the more Peter’s skin started to crawl, he wasn’t sure he was ready to enter the room his entire family had died in. The room he’d snapped many of the human’s necks so they would have to feel the flames. The room he’d said goodbye to not only every member of his family, but also to the boy he’d been.

Never again would Peter be caught unaware.

As they descended the steps to the cellar Stiles began his story, “It started when I was about sixteen. My father and I had known the Hale fire had been arson, but my pa wouldn’t pursue it further. I think it was because the officials that did look into it usually ended up moving away and becoming mysteriously wealthy or they ended up dead. Little did I know that pops had been looking into it the whole time. I found his files the summer before junior year, just before he passed, may he rest in peace. In those files the name Kate Argent was circled, she was someone on the periphery of all the investigations, all the suspects had been seen at least once with Kate. Dad was leaving an unknown location in his cruiser when a semi hit him head on.” Stiles stopped at the base of the stairs and took a breath.

He didn’t turn any lights on, it was too dark for even Peter’s eyes meaning he had no idea where Stiles was now or what was going to happen now that they had reached the cellar.

“That unknown location wasn’t so mysterious when you had all of the puzzle pieces. I was young then, mind you, but I ended Gerard and Kate Argent a month after they’d made me bury another parent. I wish it’d been long and painful. I wish that for both of us Peter. They deserved so much worse than they got, but I was full of so much rage back then. I poisoned them. Potassium Chloride for Gerard and Succinylcholine for Kate. He was old so a heart attack wasn’t even worth lookin’ into and all it took was a little evidence planting to make Kate’s asphyxiation and paralysis look like an allergic reaction. Did you know that Kate was allergic to some of Gerard’s medicine? The report says that after she found her father dead she took all of his medicine and killed herself. How tragic.”

Peter’s entire body was rigid with tension, he didn’t like not knowing where Stiles was, but he needed to hear the rest of the story.

“After those two were gone I simply broke in and went through their files. Did you know werewolves are real, Peter David Hale? Are you named after David in this bible or David Kessler? Has the big American werewolf even been to London?”

“My name is biblical, Mieczysław.” Peter’s words floated out into the dark abyss around him.

“How boring.”

Suddenly Stiles was pressed against Peter’s body, his lips crashing into Peter’s. Peter wrapped his arms around the lithe body, his hands exploring every inch of Stiles that they could reach. The kiss was all consuming and full of a fire he didn’t know he still had in him. When Stiles stepped back and out of reach Peter couldn’t stop the high pitched whine that escaped him.

Stiles made a contemplative sound before saying quietly, almost like he was making a note to himself, “Needy.”

Before Peter could be offended Stiles continued, “I just wanted to taste you before I showed you. I didn’t want to kill you before I kissed you. I don’t want to kill you, Peter. I hope I don’t have to.”

With that Stiles finally turned the lights on, it took a moment for Peter’s eyes to adjust but when they did he gasped.

The entire cellar had been turned into a torture room, but Peter’s attention was drawn elsewhere before he could properly inspect the room. In the middle of the room was a bloodied stump of a man, who was on the cusp of death his heartbeat so quiet and slow Peter hadn’t heard it.

“And who is this unfortunate soul?”

“He raped three girls this summer.”

“And why is he still alive?”

“I was going to kill him that day I ran into you but my sparks told me I was being watched.”

Peter hummed, “So you did know. Interesting.”

“Oh baby you’re easier than pie. I saw through your little tourist facade almost instantly.”

Peter growled and stepped closer, noting that the sound aroused Stiles, “You’re little Blessed Ranger routine is flimsy at best.”

Stiles laughed before he pulled Peter forward by his belt loops. “So you aren’t gonna make me kill you?”

“You couldn’t catch me much less kill me, but no little ranger. I seem to have taken a shinin’ to you.”

They kissed once more before Stiles stepped away, “Wanna help me clean this up?”

“You made the mess darlin’, you can finish up. I’d like to watch you work.”

Stiles grinned sharp, “You just wanna stare at my ass.”

Peter flashed his eyes with a low rumble, “Not just that.”

Stiles shivered much to Peter’s delight.

“Well fine. You watch but next time you’re helpin’. Hit play if you will.” Stiles gestured to the speaker on the far counter.

I might be a part of this Ripple on water from a lonesome drip A fallen tree that witness me I'm alone, him and me

Peter knew this song and joined in with Stiles’ singing.

And then life itself could not aspire To have someone be so admired I threw creation to my king With the silence broken by a whispered, wind All of this can be broken All of this can be broken Hold your devil by his spoke and spin him to the ground

Their voices danced and spun around each other as the melody overshadowed the muffled screams of a soon to be dead rapist. The tree outside the Hale mansion sang their own song of triumph as the spark and the wolf finally joined. The land had called for a savior and had received two broken men ready to watch the world crumble down around them. They’d withstood catastrophe and now it was their turn to reap destruction on those unworthy of town they called home.

[wolfpawn]

When Ghosts Come For Us

Chapter 41

NOTE This is based on the movie Crimson Peak, so if any of the subject matter in that was uncomfortable for you, you will find this similar. I will *NOT* be describing incest in this, it will only be implied, same as the movie.

As I have stated already, my laptop is broken at present so please excuse grammar mistakes and the lack of GIFs and pics.

Also, I do not own any image or gif used in this story.

HERE is the link to Chapter 1 on Ao3

Rating - Mature

Thomas was the epitome of the doting father and husband on their return to Allerdale Hall. The maid and housekeeper watched in shocked awe as he assisted his wife ready their son for a meal and assisted in winding him after, with some gentle schooling by his wife. He insisted that the work they all knew the mines required could wait while he tended to the needs of his wife and son, making sure that they were settled before dealing with the mines. Charlotte watched, feigning blissful ignorance as her husband attempted to begin his grovelling for his previous dismissing of her and Thomas Junior. She noted the pride he took in their son donning his name and noticed also his manner with the small infant. He may have previously not shown much interest in their son but it was clear now he felt some connection to him. With Thomas now working the mines and the baby asleep, Charlotte decided to bring him to the kitchen area and watch the women work, disliking the loneliness of the room. The housekeeper and the maid looked at her curiously as she stood in the doorway.

“Lady Sharpe?” Mrs Phillips asked worriedly. “Should you not be in bed?”

“No.” She shook her head slightly, Thomas Jr asleep soundly in her arms, Blake loyally at her side. “It's noisy with the workmen up there, and draughty, I think him better able to rest downstairs, but also…” Her voice was small and almost meek, not anything like the way she had spoken to them the day before.

“What is it, Duckie?” Mrs Phillips asked kindly.

“It is frightfully lonely up there…”

Mrs Phillips immediately had a kind smile on her face and rushed to put a chair by the fire. “Over here with you. Margaret, get something akin to a bassinet and we can keep Master Thomas warm and let Lady Sharpe have her arms free,” she ordered. The maid immediately set about doing what was required as Charlotte sat beside the fire, Blake taking up position by her feet. “He is not going to be ignored, is he?” Mrs Phillips smiled at the dog.

“He does not let Thomas out of his sight. He only rests when he knows Thomas is feeding or is fed and is sleeping. They will be as close as can be once Thomas grows, I fear to think of the mischief poor Blake will have to stop him from creating.” Charlotte smiled affectionately at her dog.

“There's as much chance of him being involved as preventing it.” Mrs Phillips chuckled. A moment later, Margaret came in with a laundry basket lined with blankets. “That is a wonderful idea, put it just out of the reach of the fire and we will let him rest.” Charlotte handed her son to Mrs Phillips and sat back in the chair. “Would you like some tea?”

“Please.” Charlotte almost begged. “I have not had one since yesterday.”

Mrs Phillips rushed around and got her everything she needed. “You sit there, Duckie and relax, you need to allow yourself recover. How you are able to wander around as you have is something of note.”

“It is nothing bothersome,” Charlotte shrugged. “I do hardly feel it.”

Mrs Phillips eyes widened at such a statement and the clear honesty in it. “You are not of the same cloth as most others.” She handed Charlotte a scone and her tea while she continued to cook the dinner and Margaret cleaned the kitchen area.

For the majority of the time she was there, there was little said but the noise and company was comfortable. When Thomas required feeding again, Margaret continued the cooking and Mrs Phillips assisted Charlotte, insisting that she not rise from her chair.

“I can see if there is a nursemaid for him in the vicinity if you would like, Duckie?” Mrs Phillips offered.

“No, I rather do it myself, whatever others say of it.” The authority of her tone left no room for argument on the matter and considering her recent behaviour, Mrs Phillips did not think it wise to say any more, instead she continued her work and began talking of mundane and unimportant gossip from the town, something Charlotte enjoyed listening to, not out of the enjoyment of other people's business but simply to be speaking with the women.

It was only when Blake's ears perked and he rushed out of the kitchen did Charlotte look at the clock, noting the time. Blake danced around at the doorway for a moment before he was joined by a damp and clay covered Thomas. On seeing him, the women looked at him somewhat startled.

Charlotte stood and handed her son to Mrs Phillips. “Place him to rest please, Anna. Margaret, warm water and a cloth please,” She ordered as she walked over to her husband. “What happened you?”

“The machine had a momentary issue.”

“Is everyone safe?” She asked worriedly.

“Perfectly.” He promised. “I was the only one close to it.”

Mrs Phillips came back having dealt with Master Thomas. “What can I get for you, Sir?”

“He'll need a good strong tea please, and some dry clothes.” Charlotte answered on autopilot. “What in heaven's name were you doing too close to it if it was having such issues.” She chastised.

“If I had not been, it could have exploded.” Thomas countered.

“Thomas, I rather lose every penny we have than risk you. I know you work incredibly hard to give us an income from the mines but do not think for one solitary moment they are worth more than your wellbeing. What good are clumps of red clay to Thomas if he is to lose his father to it, or to myself and even Lucille?”

Thomas smiled, seeing the genuine concern on her face. “I was not harmed.” He brought her hand to his lips and pressed it gently to them. “I foresaw the possible situation and countered it immediately before it was any risk to anyone, the only issue being I slipped in the clay, nothing more. You will see as I clean myself that it is not any bit of my blood I am covered in.”

“It had better not be, for if it is, I will not let you live it down for the damage it is doing my poor nerves.” She scolded as she took one of the scraps of cloth Margaret had brought and soaked it before starting to clean off the more obvious clumps. “Margaret, would you be so good as to ready a bath for Sir Sharpe also, I think this will require a more thorough cleaning.” Charlotte requested as she noted the sheer work to get the clay off her husband. “You are caked in it.”

“At least it is only clay and not my own blood...for the sake of your nerves, of course.” He gave her a playful smile.

Charlotte, for her annoyance at her husband's recent behaviour could not prevent herself smiling. “You toy with me and my caring too greatly, Thomas.”

Thomas's smile fell. “I have, I admit.”

“I have right mind to discard you like this rag for doing so.” She tossed the dirtied scrap to the floor, her tone brazen.

“It is a wonder you have not already.” He retorted, a slight smile on his lips as he noted the sides of hers raise ever so minisculely.

“I suffer a terrible fault with regards you, Thomas Sharpe, against my better judgement, and it makes impossible to do so.”

“And what is this terrible fault, dare I ask?”

“I love you, most ardently.” She looked him squarely in the eye as she confessed such.

“My, that is a terrible fault indeed. If it is any consolation to the lady, I hope she knows I will endeavour to earn the privilege of being worthy of said affections and to repent for my past transgressions against them.”

“Good, for I would hate to think myself wasting my time with them as I seem to be with trying to assist with this cleaning. What in the world is causing this to stick so much to you?” Charlotte looked at the clay on the rag, his face and her hands.

Thomas could only chuckle. “The deeper clay is far thicker.”

“Evidently.”

“Lottie?” Charlotte looked at him curiously. “I love you, with an intensity I never knew existed. I…” hearing the housekeeper or maid returning, he ceased speaking on request of the expression Charlotte was giving him. “I should wash.”

“Eat first, the water will have to been drawn.” Charlotte suggested.

“My Dear, I am covered in clay and oil.”

“And it will take considerable time to remove it, so it is best to eat first,” she countered.

Thomas did not argue and instead watched as she cleaned her hands before going and retrieving their son and sitting close to him, Thomas Jr looking around curiously, though not focusing on anything. “I thought him to be resting.”

“No, he is awake and curious, he is simply quiet.” There was incredible affection in how Charlotte spike of Thomas. “He is such a handsome little thing, or is that motherly love speaking, am I simply doting because I am bound to by motherly duty?”

“Indeed it is not simply that, Lady Sharpe,” Mrs Phillips declared as she placed Thomas's food in front of him. “I have not seen such a handsome babe in all my years. My George looked like a sack of potatoes when he was born.”

“Mrs Phillips! You cannot say that of your own son!” Charlotte chastised.

“Duckie, I love my George, but if there is one thing the good lord did not bless him with, it is looks. He looks like my husband mixed with his father and as much as I love Theodore, it was not looks that caused me to love him.” Mrs Phillips stated. “This little one, he is truly handsome. You will have women seeking him for more than his parents’ wealth, I can assure you.”

“When we get this second mine open, that wealth will grow considerably.” Charlotte smiled to her husband, giving him an encouraging look.

Thomas swallowed, uncertain as to how to react to such encouragement.

Tags: @perpetual-fangirl @ilovekingt @lokiloveheart @lokilover9 @texmexdarling @sigridlaufeyson @whovianwookie86-captainxev @wolfsmom1

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

I Don’t Give a Crappuccino

               The sound of bickering had Ron sighing heavily. He would give anything for even a moment of silence. The mid-afternoon rush of customers was already too much on his nerves, let alone wanting to deal with his worst customers.

               “Fancy seeing you here, Potter,” Malfoy—I am too good for a first name—drawled in a tone that set Ron’s teeth to grinding. He didn’t know why the man bothered pretending it was a surprise to see Harry. They both came into Java Prince every Friday. Every single bloody Friday. Of course it would happen to be on the same shift Ron worked. Every single one.

               “Shove off, Malfoy,”

               Ron groaned, not even bothering to smile at the next customer in line. Miss McGonagall wasn’t one for pleasantries anyway.

               When Harry said something that had Malfoy going off, Pansy smiled in a way Ron knew she didn’t do outside of work—someone could only be so polite, a trait he knew she didn’t possess—and whispered, “They’re at it again.”

               When the rush of customers eased, and they could both relax, Ron slumped against the espresso machine, not bothering to care that Snape might catch him. The git was a shitty boss to begin with. How a man so surly ran a popular coffee shop, was a complete mystery. One look at the man’s dour face and suspicious sneer would send any sane person to Starbucks in a heartbeat.

               “It really is sad,” Pansy spoke up, eyes riveted to where Harry and Malfoy were still arguing. “They don’t even realize how much sexual tension is bleeding through. If they were just a tad bit younger, I would flirt with either of them.”

               Ron tilted his head to the side before switching to the opposite as he thought it through. Both men were relatively good looking—if one was into guys in their mid-thirties—and neither had a wedding ring. “Maybe. But their personalities aren’t really something that you would want, right?” Harry was at least kind, but there was definitely some snark in him, the man could keep up with Malfoy’s rude behavior as well.

               “Who said I want them for their personalities?” She wiggled her brows, eyes glinting in mischievousness.  

               “Gross,” Ron complained as he looked back to the customers. “Can either of them even get it up?”

               A loud cough had Ron startling as Miss Longbottom stood at the counter, eyeing him in disappointment.

               “What can I get for you, dear?” He batted his eyelashes, hoping to come off as endearing. When her lips thinned even further, Ron gestured for Pansy to take over the order.

               “An espresso.” It was said as a demand, something Ron knew Pansy wouldn’t handle very well.

               Pansy smiled her customer service smile, which had Ron wincing at how fake it came off. “Sorry, ma’am, but here at Java Prince, we require the title as it is printed on the menu to ensure we are giving customers the accurate order.”

               When Miss Longbottom sighed heavily, Ron had to bite his lip to stop from smiling. Snape wouldn’t be a ridiculous owner if he had normal titles for his drinks. Everything in the store was uniquely named to ensure the customers were uncomfortable. Lovely man.

               “I would like the largest Depresso you have,” Miss Longbottom growled out bitterly.

               Ron prepared the order, grateful that he didn’t have to deal with her. Sometimes, he wondered why getting a job in customer service had ever crossed his mind. Surely, there was something out there that would hold him over till he graduated.

               As soon as the Depresso had been placed on the counter and Miss Longbottom stormed away, Ron stood up straighter at the sight of Harry standing in front of his register.

               “What can I get for you?”

               Harry smiled warmly before looking into the dessert cases. “Can I have two Sourdough Sectumsempra Scones?”

               Ron took the payment, lost in thought. It wasn’t often Harry or Malfoy ate here, not that he would blame them. Snape wasn’t the best cook—Ron liked to think Snape sold his soul to maintain a steady flow of customers.

               When Pansy came up behind him to rest her chin on his shoulder, they both watched Harry walk up to Malfoy and toss the scones down.

               “Here, you lazy wanker,” Harry muttered in frustration before sitting next to Malfoy in their usual stools.

               “I trust you didn’t poison them,” snarked Malfoy, eyes glinting.

               Harry let out a laugh as he shook his head. “Poisoning you would be a dream of mine. Can you imagine the silence that would fill my life?”

               Ron furrowed his brows, wondering if they had finally moved on from insults and entered into some kind of strange flirting.

               “Please,” Draco breathed out, eyes rolling dramatically. “You wouldn’t know how to live without me.”

               “Hmmm,” Pansy hummed, watching them banter back and forth. “I think we don’t need to plot anything. They seem to be flirting on their own.”

               “Plotting?” asked Ron incredulously. “I wasn’t going to help you plot anything. Working here is enough of an energy drainer. Snape sucks out everything I could possibly give just by existing.”

               “Is that so?” The drawling tone had Ron’s eyes widening as he straightened up. Of course the git would choose now to re-enter the living world. “Perhaps you have more energy than you realize. Weasley, clean the kitchen. I do believe the breakfast dishes have yet to be washed.”

               Ron would have groaned if he wasn’t worried about losing his job. He sighed internally before taking off his apron and going into the back.

               The sight of every possible pot and pan Snape owned piled into the sink had his shoulders slumping.

              Snape was the worst boss ever.

 ————————————

               “Can I get… uh… what exactly is in a Half-Blood Latte?” Ron rolled his eyes, not having the patience to deal with this customer. The woman had asked what was in every single thing, as if the menu didn’t state it already.

               “The blood of every customer who takes too long to order.”

               The woman’s mouth dropped open with an indignant noise before exiting his line and going to Pansy’s.

               Ron sent Pansy a sheepish shrug when she glared at him. There was no way he was apologizing for that.

               When Ron looked up at the next customer in line, he breathed a sigh of relief to see Malfoy. It was a little early for his normal time, but even his pretentious attitude was preferable to the previous customer.

               “Your usual?”

               “Yes, but also a medium ‘I don’t give a Crappuccino’ as well.”

               Ron arched his brows at the second one. Malfoy didn’t usually buy Harry’s order. Both men always arrived at different times.

               Curiosity almost had Ron questioning the out of character action, but Malfoy wasn’t exactly a pleasant person.

               It wasn’t until Harry arrived, hair messier than usual, clothes a little rumpled and a distracted aura that it made sense.

               “I think they are dating,” Ron whispered to Pansy, ignoring the next customer in line.

               Pansy jerked, causing the order in her hand to nearly slip. “What?” She paid no mind to the exasperated man the drink belonged to. Her eyes snapped towards Harry and Malfoy.

               “Their body language is no more flirtatious than before, and they certainly aren’t doing anything to suggest something has changed.”

               Ron rolled his eyes at her observation. “Malfoy ordered Harry’s drink before Harry arrived.”

               Pansy smirked, eyes lighting up in delight. “Interesting. The operation is progressing as planned.”

               “What operation?” Ron argued, arms folding across his chest. “We don’t have anything planned.” He glanced back towards the two in question and watched the way Harry smiled at Malfoy.

               “You don’t have anything—”

               “Excuse me!” The next customer in line interrupted. “Can I get some service around here?”

               A snort had Ron wincing as Snape walked by to restock the dessert case.

             “On a good day?” Snape returned, sneer already in place. “Maybe.”

               Perhaps Snape wasn’t that bad of a boss.

  ————————————

               “I am bored enough that a customer would be appreciated,” Pansy whined, staring at the clock for the fifth time in the past ten minutes.

               “Bite your tongue,” Ron warned. “I don’t feel like doing any work.”

               “And how is that different from any other day of the week?” She countered pulling out nail polish from her bag.

               Ron rolled his eyes, hand covering his chest in mock offense. “I will have you know that I am the hardest working person employed here.”

               “It would seem that I need better employees then,” Snape informed them as he turned the corner and leaned against the wall. “If you are the epitome of a model employee, then I am in trouble.”

               Pansy snorted as she held out her palm and gestured for Ron’s hand.

              “Alright, but don’t do black,” Ron warned, choosing to ignore Snape’s jibe. “Last time you painted them that color, it left a stain on my nails.”

               She worked in silence, only pausing to glance at the clock another three times. “It’s Friday,” Pansy mumbled as she finished the last few nails on his right hand.

               Ron peered at Snape, hoping that her statement made more sense than just pointing out the obvious. When his boss shrugged, he sighed heavily. “Funnily enough, I can read a calendar.”

               Pansy smacked his arm, smearing nail polish in the process. “I meant that Malfoy and Harry should be here soon. They never miss a Friday.”

               “Why are you so invested in those two?” Snape asked, interest causing him to step away from the wall.

               When Pansy’s cheeks pinked up slightly, Ron laughed. “She thinks they would be a cute couple. We have been debating over their chances for months.”

               Snape furrowed his brows, something Ron hadn’t really ever seen him do before. “Why would you think—” He was cut off by the door opening for the first time in hours.

               “Ah, speak of the devil,” Snape drawled, walking up to the register, fingers typing out their orders.

               Ron scratched his head with his free hand as he exchanged a look with Pansy. They had never seen Snape take a single customer’s order before. Not even when they were swamped and could use an extra hand. Their boss was a prick like that.

               Malfoy smiled, something that Ron had to do a second glance for. “The only devil here is you, Uncle Severus.”

               Uncle Severus?

               “I wasn’t sure you’d make it in today,” Snape continued, ignoring the insult.

               Harry tilted his head to the side, confusion evident in his features. “Why wouldn’t we? Today’s the big twenty.”

               “Exactly,” Snape began, fingers snapping for Pansy or Ron to make the order. “Twenty years of marriage isn’t something people tend to celebrate in a coffee shop.”

               “Marriage?” Ron and Pansy demanded in unison, neither noticing the milk overflowing in the cup they pulled out.

               Malfoy regarded them with derision, not something unheard of. “You didn’t know we were married? We come here once a week every week and have been doing so for twenty-two years.”

               When neither of them spoke up, both having a hard time grasping the knowledge, Harry pointed to a photograph on the wall. “We met here on opening day.”

               Ron looked at the photo–it was something that he always ignored, since it was of two random customers during the grand opening.

               Pansy let out a soft exclamation. “Look! It’s them!”

               Sure enough, it was. Ron wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t pointed it out. Harry and Malfoy looked quite different than when they were teenagers.

               “They looked cute back then,” Pansy noted, eyes narrowing in thought.

               “Excuse you?” Malfoy frowned as he placed a hand on his hip. “I will have you know that I am dashing at any age.”

               Harry grinned before placing a kiss to the top of Malfoy’s head. “You sure are.” He looked to the photograph before continuing his explanation.

               “Draco was hired to work the counter,” Harry smiled before entwining his fingers with Malfoy. “It was a disaster and he dumped out my order on the floor when I sassed him.”

               “Lovely first impression,” Ron muttered, watching the way Mal—no Draco squeezed Harry’s hand.

               “He deserved it,” Draco argued, a smile quirking at the memory.

               Harry laughed loudly, whole body moving into the action. “I did not. I kept coming back every Friday in spite. It was fun finding things to say to get him angry enough to ruin my order.”

               Ron couldn’t help but smile at the way Draco’s eyes lit up at the obvious joy on Harry’s face. It was cute. In an old person kind of way.

               “What made you guys decide to get together?” Pansy asked, still looking at the photograph.

               “Uncle Sev said he would fire me if I didn’t get over my feelings for Harry by either asking him out or killing him.”

               “Charming,” Ron mumbled, smirking at the glare his boss sent his way.

               Pansy shook her head. “I just got to ask, why come back every Friday? It’s not like the coffee or the food is any good.”

               When Snape’s glare immediately focused on her, Ron let out a snort.

               Draco laid his head on Harry’s shoulder. “This is where we met, fought and fell in love. It’s just a part of us now.”

               Pansy sighed a little happily before shooting Ron a smile. “We always thought you two hated each other.”

               The confusion on their faces had Ron rolling his eyes. “You fight a lot.”

               Snape scoffed. “You mean their incessant flirting? I had hoped as the years passed, that would stop, but they subject me to it at every opportunity.”

               Ron hummed curiously as he thought it over. Sometimes it seemed like the two were flirting, but he supposed if that was the way they always did it, he wouldn’t have noticed.

               “I say it’s your karma for having such a sunny disposition,” Harry grinned cheekily, ignoring the scowl on Snape’s face. The man had guts, Ron wouldn’t have dared to say that to his boss.

               “Get out of here,” Snape shooed them towards the door. “Enjoy your anniversary.”

               “We will,” Draco promised before drawing Harry into a rather passionate kiss.

               Ron would have unabashedly stared at the good-looking couple, but movement had him peering at Snape curiously. His boss had retrieved a camera from his office and took a photo of the pair. It was interesting to think that Severus Snape of all people was a romantic at heart.

               When he looked back towards Harry and Draco, he smiled at the sight of the couple still holding onto each other.

              It was cute. In an old person kind of way.

               “Do you think when we get that old, we’ll be as sappy?” Pansy wondered leaning against Ron’s side.

               “Why Parkinson, are you flirting with me?” Ron countered smiling at the way she sighed heavily.

               “Not anymore, I’ve decided to run away with Snape.”

               Ron laughed loudly before bumping her in the side with his hip, a smile formed when Snape began grumbling about ‘another couple of idiots that flirt nonstop’. He could get used to this. Friday’s might even be his favorite day of the week.

               Java Prince may not have good coffee, food or customer service, but it was filled with a lot of love, and that was a pretty close second.

———————————

This was my odd version of a coffee shop au. I know a few people asked for this, I can’t find the original prompt anywhere, and I am so sorry for whoever sent me the first prompt. 

This was not the ficlet that won the poll, but I couldn’t provide you all with the one that won just yet. It’s still being worked on. So hopefully you enjoyed this instead. 

I would like to thank @rmh8402 @rieraclaelin @staganddragon for helping me with titles and just listening to me talk about this haha. It was an experience for sure. Oh! and @llap115 too! 

[broken-clover]

Dust Strikers Story Mode 4/4

Part four of the story transcripts for Guilty Gear: Dust Strikers. I apologize for taking so long to submit this last section, I was suffering from a case of my-computer-is-laggy-and-I-can’t-play-Anji-to-save-my-life. I hope you can forgive me.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (Slayer, I-no, Zappa, Bridget, Anji)

Slayer

Slayer: Interesting Bridget: What is it? Excuse me, you don't happen to have a bounty on your head by any chance? Slayer: Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not worth much of anything. But if your skills measure up to me, I might be worth your time. Johnny: Even though he's an old guy, I'm impressed that she wants to take on a guy. It just fascinates me. Anji: You think? I'm interested in guys too. Johnny: What did you say? Anji: Don't get any wrong ideas, now. I'm interested in their powers. Slayer: I agree with that way of thinking. That simplifies matters. Johnny: Wait, I'm not really... Anji: Now you're talking! I'm pumped!

Faust: This is an interesting symptom. I see, it's a cause and effect cycle. Axl: You, I never asked you to check up on me! Even though it's true that I've been through a lot, I've never had any doubts about my body. Faust: Oh, is that right? If there aren't any cures, that may very well be the best treatment. Axl: I'm more concerned about your body. Looks a little mysterious. Faust: Not to worry. It's all functional Slayer: Irregulars with an added spice that changes the world of men. Axl: You talking about us? Slayer: It's because of people like you that makes humans interesting. Even though you're blessed with great powers, it's normal to you. Very typical of how humans behave. Axl: It'll stress you out if you think so deeply. Zappa: Hahahahaha! Slayer: Look. Yet another fellow favored by the goddess of fortune. Axl: I do like women but I'm not sure about the goddess. Slayer: It must be the uncertainty factor that led you into running into me Axl: C'mon, let's just have fun...I thought this was supposed to be a party!

Potemkin: I heard from the president. I've been looking forward to this day to finally exchange shots with you. Slayer: One of the disciples, I gather. You think you can take me? You should beat him before coming to me. You'll pay a high price for this! Chipp: HEY! Hold it right there! You're the dude who founded the guild, aren't you? Slayer: That was quite a long time ago...I no longer have any involvement...but it is true that I am the founder. Chipp: That simplifies matters. I'm gonna destroy you! Jam: Looks like I've gotten myself into a hostile environment. Better get outta here... Slayer: Hmm, looks like you're a ki wielder. I'm interested in your combat style. Would you mind showing me some of it? Jam: I'm no cheap street performer. If you give me some of that spice, I'll think about it. Slayer: I should be able to accommodate you. Jam: That's a promise! Chipp: Quit ignoring me, both of you! You're going down!

Slayer: This is quite an unusual combination. Sol: I'm starting to get tired of your face Testament: Different being. What do you want? Slayer: Nope. Nothing in particular. Just happened to pass by. Testament: Then please go away Dizzy: Oh, you're Mr. Slayer, aren't you? Please excuse Testament's words. He doesn't mean any harm. Slayer: I'm not bothered by it. Don't worry. But this is quite interesting. Sol: So what the hell is your point? Slayer: Those who have veered off the path. I guess the same must be said of me. Testament: What are you insinuating? You better have a good explanation Slayer: My apologies if I offended you. I'm just genuinely interested in your powers Sol: You using us to kill your boredom? I think it's time you hung em up.

Millia: So...we meet again...Zato. Eddie: So you still haven't gotten over him? Millia: Shut up, you damn beast...I'm talking to him, not you! Eddie: What do you want to talk to ME about? Millia: I'm taking you down. I'm sick and tired of looking at your pathetic, bony remains. Venom: Not so fast...! Master Zato is regarded as the crown-jewel of the guild. You'll have to hand him over to me...! Slayer: I've told you the Guild is no more. No raison d'etre and no purpose. Continued existence will only bring further regret and despair. Venom: Oldtimers can keep their mouth shut. The guild no longer belongs to you. Millia: It has nothing to do with me anymore, I don't care what happens to it. I just want to take care of this guy with my very own hands. Eddie: Do you think it will be that easy? What do "I" think?"...Not so easy, "I" say. Venom: I sense you...Master Zato. I am going to free you, Master, from the evil spell of death! Eddie: Ha ha...this is great! Lowly humans who cannot accept death. That's the right evil spirit to have! Slayer: I'm the one who started all of this. I must atone for my past deeds. Fine, let us put an end to it all.

Slayer: Just when I thought it was all over. Gig: Grr... Slayer: Don't want to be adding more trouble. You looking for a dance partner? Gig: Grrrgh! Slayer: Very well then, mademoiselle.

Gig: Grr...grr... Slayer: That was very passionate, wasn't it? I had better get going now... Gig: Ghhh... Slayer: So long! Farewell!

Slayer: Take a look, Sharon. Tonight the moon shines beautifully. The red moon in the dark night sky seems to epitomize the world of man. Those that will shine and stand out amidst this corrupt day and age are those with immortal justice....Don't you think, Sharon?

I-no

I-no: That's an exciting combination. Potemkin: That red outfit and guitar...you must be... I-no: You remember me? That's nice to know. Potemkin: Someone like you go unchecked...lucky for you I'm a little busy now. You pull out and I'll let you go. Zappa: Grrr! I'm gonna curse you! Faust: Looks like this won't need treatment. If we take too much time, the patient is not going to make it. I-no: Look, the beasts are making noise. But I'm afraid I don't understand what they're saying. So loud and annoying. Potemkin: That should be enough! It's time for me to shut you up. Faust: Looks like it is your mind-set that needs treatment. Fine, I shall treat you, then. I-no: Trying to act tough, are we? You damned animals. I'll cut you up and feed the dogs!

Bridget: Something I can help you with? I-no: What a sweetie you are. What do I want? Let's see... May: If you're asking to be hooked up with Johnny, there's no way. I-no: I see, so there's more of you. Hey, I have a fun idea. Bridget: What is it? I've got cool tricks too. I-no: Demons' groaning sounds beautiful. Even more when they're in harmony. Dizzy: Are you trying to hurt everyone? I'm not going to let you do that. I-no: I love all that energy. Come on, play a tune for me. Bridget: I wouldn't underestimate me if I were you. Fall into the hands of the law.

I-no: What do we have here, the desperate bachelorettes council? Baiken: What kind of greeting is that? That's not a very nice thing to say Jam: That's right! You're rude! And what about you? I-no: Oh dear, don't be so uptight. It's just a joke, honey. Or were you offended 'cause I was right on the mark? Millia: You're a joke. Why don't you get outta here. I-no: Oh no. I'm scared. I guess this is how women become as they get older. Baiken: You crazy! I'll cut you up into pieces! Jam: I'm not showing you any mercy either! Millia: If you're not gonna get outta here, we'll have to get rid of you. It's as simple as that. I-no: You're such sweethearts. Very well, I make you cry lots. We'll find out how loud you can cry.

I-no: Hi there. Testament: What the hell do you want? I-no: Don't glare at me like that. You're scaring me. Testament: Get the hell outta here if you don't want anything. Unless of course you want to die. I-no: What do I want? Let's see...I'm here to hunt down all the monsters. I'd like all of you to die. Slayer: Ha, calling us all monsters, huh? You do realize I'm a disparate type? Too caught up in your own powers? Let me give you a lesson on manners. Eddie: Some excellent subject material. I shall test you to see if you are adequate for my body. I-no: Who do you think you're talking to? You can all bathe in your own blood! Testament: I'll show you this monster's power. You can repent your losses in hell!

I-no: You're late. You shouldn't make ladies wait like that. Sol: shut up. What are you wandering around for? Johnny: Hey, what a coincidence. Didn't expect to run into you here....guess yu're busy with a woman Sol: You stay out of it I-no: Ooh, another cute guy Ky: All of you! Freeze right there! I-no: and now a cute boy, too. Ky: Sol..! And Johnny the pirate, and you're..! I-no: I'd stay out of it if I were you. Why don't you just go home to mommy? Sol: That's enough chit chatting. Let's let the fists do the talking! Ky: ...Sol! I-no: The violent guy as always. Sure, why not...I'll cut you all up into pieces! Ky: I guess there's no alternative. Holy Knight combat was initially meant for handling multiple enemies. I'll show you what it's all about!

I-no: I see... Gig: Grr... I-no: So the caterpillar couldn't become a butterfly. Once a piece of junk, always a piece of junk, I guess. Gig: Grrrgh! I-no: Hahaha! What a joke!

Gig: Grr...grr... I-no: How was it? Did you like it? I'm sure you're quite satisfied. Gig: Ghh... I-no: I say that's enough for one day! Time for you to go to hell! Gig: Grr...

That Man:...good. Job well done. You may go now. I-no: Yes, sir! That Man: Well...I'll let you go this time. But refrain from actions that may throw off our plan. Especially if it had to do with him. I-no: But sir! That Man:... I-no: My apologies, sir. That Man: Now there is another good reason...to be killed by him.

Zappa

Zappa: Hey! Miss! Millia:...Yes? Zappa: If it's possible, can you be my wi... Millia:... Zappa: Actually, never mind... Axl: Dude, let me show you how it's done. Hey, you in the beautiful blond hair! Let me buy you a cup of coffee so I can see which glows brighter, your hair or your eyes. Millia:...Um, I'm in a hurry. Ky: You're Millia, the former assassin. If you're not with the guild anymore, leave the rest to the police force. No need to put yourself in danger. Millia: I'll take care of him. It's none of your business. Ky: But no, we have to... Zappa: What's all this talk about? Even the police are here. Maybe I should get outta...NO!...Happiness. Hatred! Hatred! Millia: Why don't I ever have luck with men?

Johnny: Whoa, check out this beautiful lady. How flirty you are. Jam: I'm not into guys like you. Take a hike. Johnny: Playing hard to get, are we? Zappa: Good cook! Good cook! Good cook! Jam: What's that? Zappa: High points as a wife candidate. Ready for engagement. Let me eat you up! Johnny: That's a dangerous pick up line Jam: A ghost? Very unscientific. Eddie: Ha! Your body shall be mine! Jam: You're much more scientific than him. Anyway, you're not my type either. You can all take a hike.

Zappa: Um, excuse me! I'm lost and was wondering if...if, if you wanted to die! Sol: Out of my way. Zappa: Where'd this big burn come from? Help me! I don't wanna die!...Die! You shall die! Dizzy: What's going on? No, Necro! Zappa: Wh, what?! My head's cold...It's blood! No! No! No!...Tear you up into pieces! Slayer:...Just a little nudge. Zappa:...Huh? Why am I going backwards when I'm moving forward? Huh? My head's on the wrong way...

Zappa: Um, excuse me, I was wondering... Baiken: Yeah what? Why are you so fidgety? Act like a man, will you? Zappa: Oh, I'm sorry. I'm looking for a person, Fa- Baiken: Fa...who? Zappa:...Fricken nasty! Baiken: What's going on here? I'm surrounded by freaks. Testament: How rude of you to say that. I've long given up my human name, but by no means am I a freak. Venom: This is a supernatural phenomenon. Quite interesting. I'd like to see more of your powers. Baiken: Man, this is a real drag. I'll blow you all away! Testament: Lowly humans shall die!

Bridget: Wow, what a massive frame you got. Potemkin: Well, I was born big. This fist I use for what I believe in and to engage in art, nothing else. Bridget: So you're an artist. Good for you. Maybe you can draw something for me? Faust: Should be safe if I've come this far. Bridget: Wow, landing using just an umbrella, that's amazing. You from the circus? Faust: No actually, believe it or not I'm a... Zappa: Dr. Faust! (sigh...sigh...) Faust: My goodness, he's caught up already. Bridget: This is remarkable! How do you bend your joints and run like that? You must be a yoga expert. Zappa: Quick, doctor, please do something! Look! I'm bent all over the place! Oh no!!! Faust: Looks like it's begun. I'll have to take drastic measures. Potemkin: Is it fate that I happen to be here? What the heck, I can help out. Bridget:...! What amazing tricks! Now it's my turn! Check this out!

Zappa: Good grief! I'm lost again. Plus it's getting dark. Gig: Grr... Zappa: Huh? Excuse me, is someone there? Gig: Grrrgh! Zappa: Aaaagh! Good time to pass out!

Gig: Grr...grr... Zappa:...I can sense it from you! I sense...a bitter grudge! Very similar...to me...aaaagh! Gig: Ghhh... Zappa:...Huh? What's going on? Why's my whole body so beat up? Gig: Grr... Zappa:...Huh?

Bridget

Bridget: Are you Testament? Testament:...you a bounty hunter? Bridget: You got it. Testament: Aren't you a little too young? What is this world coming to? Bridget: Nothing's going to change if you're so pessimistic all the time. Testament: How come you don't realize you are turning yourself into a machine at the price of countless bloodshed. I must teach you a lesson! Ky: Hold it right there! International Police Force is now... Jam: Ayah!!! Yes! This is my lucky day! Testament: Yet another shameless human looking to land a bounty... Jam: That's not what I'm here for. It's not very often you can hire 3 cute waiters in one day! Bridget: Umm, I'm a bounty hunter. Jam: Quick, let's have a match! I win, and you all have to work for me! I don't mind if it's 3 on 1. Cute guys beating you up is cool too! Testament: I can't deal with this. Let me through. Bridget: Fine, then. We'll do it all in one go! Ky: What? Me too?

Bridget: Something I can help you with? I-no: What a sweetie you are. What do I want? Let's see... May: If you're asking to be hooked up with Johnny, there's no way. I-no: I see, so there's more of you. Hey, I have a fun idea. Bridget: What is it? I've got cool tricks too. I-no: Demons' groaning sounds beautiful. Even more when they're in harmony. Dizzy: Are you trying to hurt everyone? I'm not going to let you do that. I-no: I love all that energy. Come on, play a tune for me. Bridget: I wouldn't underestimate me if I were you. Fall into the hands of the law.

Axl: Hey, what's that you're holding? I didn't know you had those toys, even in this day and age. Bridget: This is not a toy! It's a tool of my trade! Axl: Ouch! I'm sorry! What have we here? Playing pool at a place like this? Venom: How dare you insult my combat style. I say you deserve a beating. Axl: Hang on a sec! Something wrong with this era. Every toy's being used as a weapon. So what do people actually play with? Johnny: The best for of entertainment, I'd say is the thrill and romance of playing with fireworks at night. I'm pretty sure that's the consensus. Axl: You know what you're talking about! I'm actually great with fire myself...here we go!

Bridget: Whoah, everybody looks tough Chipp: Hey! what's a kid doing here? Eddie: A child. Attractive in terms of her youthfulness but too immature to become my host Bridget: You're not taking me seriously? Then let me show you my moves Sol:...back off. Don't be wasting my time Eddie: Interesting. I shall keep a record of the battle results for future reference Bridget: Don't be surprised! Here I come! Sol: What am I, a babysitter? I can't deal with this...

Bridget: Wow, what a massive frame you got. Potemkin: Well, I was born big. This fist I use for what I believe in and to engage in art, nothing else. Bridget: So you're an artist. Good for you. Maybe you can draw something for me? Faust: Should be safe if I've come this far. Bridget: Wow, landing using just an umbrella, that's amazing. You from the circus? Faust: No actually, believe it or not I'm a... Zappa: Dr. Faust! (sigh...sigh...) Faust: My goodness, he's caught up already. Bridget: This is remarkable! How do you bend your joints and run like that? You must be a yoga expert. Zappa: Quick, doctor, please do something! Look! I'm bent all over the place! Oh no!!! Faust: Looks like it's begun. I'll have to take drastic measures. Potemkin: Is it fate that I happen to be here? What the heck, I can help out. Bridget:...! What amazing tricks! Now it's my turn! Check this out!

Bridget: Whoa! What's this? Gig: Grr... Bridget: Some sort of costume party? That's a great costume. Gig: Grrrgh! Bridget: Wait. Is it real?

Gig: Grr...grr... Bridget: Phew, that was hard work. He's a big guy but that made it easier to get up close. Gig: Ghhh... Bridget: Umm...guess there's no bounty. Okay then, see you later. Gig: Grr...

Bridget: Hmm...starting to run out of travel money...and I'm getting hungry. Hey! That guy! Maybe he's... Bridget:....Umm, excuse me, sir...is there a bounty on your head?

Anji

Anji: You must be Ky Kiske, former leader of the Sacred Order of Holy Knights Ky: Yes, that would be me. And who are you? Anji: Last name is Mito, first name is Anji. I'm just a journeyman Ky: So what can I help you with? Anji: I'd like to challenge you to a match. I wanted to see firsthand the skills of a top-class warrior like yourself. Ky: I can tell from your presence that you're not an ordinary foe. Asian martial arts? Interesting. I accept your challenge. Slayer: In that case, count me in too. Fighting for the sake of fighting. To me fighting is life's best form of entertainment. Don't you think? Potemkin: I myself haven’t had any worthy opponents recently. Sure, I'll take you on. Ky: This is getting interesting. It's been a while for me too. Bring it on!

Anji: You're using that thing as a weapon? 'Assassins' are something, aren't they. Venom:...You should talk! Your combat style is bizarre too! Anji: I don't mean to be conceited, but my moves are second to none. How about a quick match? It may help me to learn new tactics. I'd like to say yes to your offer, but... Anji: I guess it's not going to be 1 on 1. Chipp: That's right. I'm not a nice enough guy to let go of this great chance at revenge! Testament: Sacred treasures? How effective my sorcery will be....please allow me to test it on you.

Anji: So you're Dizzy... Dizzy:...That is correct. What can I do for you? There's no bounty on my head anymore. Anji: Nope, nothing vicious like that. Jam: By the way, I'm the one who got the bounty. Thanks to the money, I've been able to open up my own restaurant Bridget: Hey, I wanted that bounty too. First come first serve, I guess. Life isn't always fair. Anji: I wanted to know where 'That Man' is. Do you know something? Dizzy: I'm sorry, I don't know much. Anji: All right, then. I guess I'll try somewhere else. Bridget: Is there a bounty on his head? Then I wanna know, too! Jam: I wanna know, too! Good chance to expand my restaurant! Anji: Hey, you guys are missing the point.

Anji: You know Sol, don't you? I-no: You meet a woman for the first time and that's the first thing you ask me? I want to know more about you. Anji: My apologies. Last name is Mito, first name is Anji. I'm just a journeyman. I-no: thanks for the introduction. And what can I help you with? Anji: I've been wanting to meet 'That Man.' I-no: Really. You won't live long, dear. Eddie: That's not necessarily the case. As long as you become a part of my body! Ha! Anji: Two on one? This is a tough situation. Faust: Looks like you're having trouble. I can assist you to the best of my humble ability. I-no. Thanks for showing up to your own funeral, doc! Faust: No matter who, my mission is to save lives. Let us apply some drastic remedies, shall we?

Anji: Finally found you. Sol:...It's you again. Anji: Let me ask you straight out. Do you have any idea where 'he' is? Sol: So what if I know? Anji: Can you tell me where he is? Of course I'm willing to work for it. You and I have a bout, and if I win, you tell me. Sounds fair? Baiken: Wait! Let me in on the festivities Sol: Sorry, not interested. You guys enjoy each other's company Anji: Even Justice feared my powers...Still not interested? Sol:...! Baiken: Shut your trap! You're starting to get on my nerves. I'll kick all of your butts right now! Axl: Whoa!...Damn it...is this a bad time? Baiken: Eavesdropping, are we? I'm not impressed! Axl: I just wanted to ask chief something Sol: And even you. Why does everyone want to stick their noses in other people's business! Axl: No worries, chief! Just a quick bout, no hard feelings! Sol: I'm not responsible for what happens.

Anji: Well, well... Gig: Grr... Anji: I'd like to see if my calculations...were correct or not, but... Gig: Grrgh! Anji: He's probably not willing to talk.

Gig: Grr...grr... Anji: Man, I thought I was gonna die! My victory, nevertheless! Gig: Grr...

Anji: If Gear wasn't created as a weapon...then what was the creator thinking...actually, no point think about it. Anji: Won't know until I meet him anyway. So...I wonder where he is now...

[hookedonapirate]

Hi! I was the one who asked for more smut along the lines of Emma telling Killian off during sex. I figured I'd also make a suggestion for you. Maybe a one shot where Killian and Emma are neighbors who hate each other, but have plenty of sexual tension between them? Neighbors turned lovers stories are among my favorites. Anyway, just a suggestion. Love your work! I'm a HUGE fan!

A/N: Okay, this isn’t exactly what you asked for, Nonnie, because Killian doesn’t hate Emma, and whether she actually hates him or not is for you to decide, but I hope you enjoy. Also, this turned into a two shot instead of one so there will be another part, I just haven’t finished it yet. So much for hard limits of 3k words, ha!

Summary: “The game’s simple, really. In fact you, my love, don’t have to do a thing,” he ends with a click of his tongue, his silky accent sending shivers down her spine.

“Don’t call me that,” Emma warns him, but honestly her heart is thumping and her interest is highly piqued, “but please do go on.”

“It’s called Ten Minutes. You give me ten minutes to do anything I want to you—touching, teasing, kissing, biting, whatever I want. You so much as moan or make any sound of pleasure, you lose.”

Emma bites her lip at the idea of him doing all those things to her and feels heat creeping into her cheeks. “And if I win? What do I get out of this?”

“If you win, I will never bother you again.”

A grin spreads across her lips. “Okay, you totally made this game up, but sure, I’ll play along,” she decides confidently. She has no doubt she’ll win, so why not? Emma sits up and places the bottle on the floor, glancing over at him again. “You’re on, Jones.”

Rated: M

Also available on: AO3 FF

Part Two

❀❋ ❀❋ ❀❋ ❀❋ ❀❋ ❀❋ ❀❋ 

Ten Minutes 

Part One

Emma hates her neighbor. No, hate is really not the correct term. To say she detests him would be more accurate. He’s a walking innuendo full of cheesy lines and flirty quips, which gives her goosebumps. Not to mention the thing he does with his brow—the thing that makes her heart skip a beat and makes her skin hot, her breathing transitioning from smooth and rhythmic to sharp and ragged, but she really and truly hates it.

The first time she’d met him, she knew he was trouble.

Emma was carrying a box in her arms, a gym bag slung over one shoulder and a tote strapped to the other as she walked from the elevator to her apartment, panting and out of breath. The box was rather heavy and she feared her arms would give out on her at any second. She couldn’t wait to get into her apartment and allow her arms some utter relief from the torture she was putting them through. When she approached the door she knew the only thing left to do was unlock the door.

“Shit!” she grumbled in frustration, realizing the key to her apartment was in her jean pocket because that was where she’d it slid into when the landlord had handed it over.

Emma was trying to figure how the hell she was going to retrieve it without throwing everything on the floor when she heard a voice, that voice, which to this day, is her undoing.

“Need a hand, love?”

Emma almost dropped everything, startled by the smooth British accent that made her blood sizzle, goosebumps crawling over her skin, and she decided to get a peek the man speaking, but that turned out to be a reckless mistake. Just when she thought he sounded genuinely sincere, she saw the smoldering blue eyes, dark unruly hair and dirty smirk adding to the smug expression on his devastatingly gorgeous face. Yeah, he had the kind of face that stopped a person dead in their tracks, the face that made one rethink every other person in the world they thought was attractive and made a heart skip a beat, because this man was the epitome of handsome in every single way.

And then there was his clothes, which accented the body he was hiding underneath in a sinfully delicious manner, making her blood scream—he was wearing a black v-neck that clung to a rock hard stomach and snug blue, stone washed jeans.

For one second Emma forgot how heavy the box was, too busy gaping at him with her mouth hung open. She tried to compensate the pause in her stonewalled expression by nonchalantly looking away, but she knew the blush flooding her cheeks was a dead giveaway.

Oh, and if his looks weren’t enough to kill a woman in his path, there was the goddamn wag of his eyebrows as he added, “All the female neighbors say I’m very talented with my hands,” eliciting her automatic response to men who were overly cocky and screamed “douchebag” because she’d really had her fill of that type.

Emma rolled her eyes and clutched her things closer to her chest. “No thanks.” She’d rather just stand there holding everything all day than accept his offer.

He chuckled and approached her anyways, extending his stupid hand. “I only meant I always help my new neighbors move in. What can I carry?”

Emma huffed in frustration and tried to shift the box into one arm so she could free one of her hands, but the box was far too leaden for that. It would end up slipping and collapsing onto the floor. “I don’t need your help.”

He didn’t believe her. “You sure  love, because —”

“Yes, I’m sure. I don’t need anyone’s help,” Emma cut him off sharply. She tried to bend down to set the box on the floor, but her bags started sliding and she knew if she bent any further down they would fall from her shoulders. Which would not be good because there were some valuable items in them.

Luckily the guy put his hands up in surrender and offered a small smirk, unoffended. “I’ve done wonders with these hands and never disappoint, so it’s really your loss, not mine.” He finally walked away, but Emma was immediately regretting her decision because just as she tried shifting things around in her arms again, she knew everything was just going to come crashing down and would be broken and damaged like her own heart. She cringed at the thought, and maybe it was because she wanted to forget, or maybe it was the reminder of moving to Boston to start over which was what made her rethink her position on accepting his help. Emma closed her eyes briefly, sighing in defeat. “Wait.”

Killian turned around, lifting his brow again, and her stomach was doing somersaults as he threw her a questioning smirk. “Yes, love?”

Dammit.

She really hated the way her heart jumped when he used that word. “Not your love… but I could use your help,” Emma admitted, which in response, Killian lifted a hand to his ear as though he didn’t hear her.

“What was that?”

“I could use your help. Could you please unlock my door?” Emma asked resentfully. The box was getting extremely heavy, but she wasn’t going to hand him all of her things and let him inside her apartment. No, instead she was going to give him the key to it.

Real smart, Swan, she chided herself.

“Well you could have asked a little nicer, but I am a man of my word. I would love to help. Why don’t I just take the box? It looks rather heavy.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll set it down as soon as I get into my apartment. Just unlock the door please,” Emma asked impatiently. “The key’s in my left back pocket. Could you grab it?”

Killian’s grin grew lopsided, making her heart stutter as he stepped closer, his brow still raised like it was permanently stuck that way. “I would love nothing more than to grab it, but you might want to be more specific, because I might grab the wrong thing and you’re not really in a position to stop me or slap me in the face.”

“The key, moron,” she spat harshly. She was not in the mood for this. Not after days of packing, five hours of driving and now moving and unpacking. “Grab the key from my pocket. Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“No that’s alright, love.” Killian quickly came around her, slipping his hand into her pocket, but of course it was the wrong one, and Emma’s breath hitched, feeling his warm hand through her jeans as his fingers searched around the pocket.

She expelled an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. “The left, not the right.”

“Oops, my bad,” he chuckled, but his voice didn’t sound apologetic whatsoever as he removed his hand and switched to the other pocket. Emma’s breath caught in her throat yet again as his fingers curled against her butt when he grabbed the key. “I can think of much more enjoyable reasons I could be reaching into a woman’s pocket for a key… or something else…”

“Could you just shut up and unlock the damn door?” she barked impatiently.

“I could if you asked more nicely.”

Emma took a breath and spoke more softly this time, trying to calm herself. This man was really getting on her nerves. “Please unlock the door.”

“That’s better.” Killian finally slid his hand from her pocket, slipped the key into the lock and turned it, opening the door.

Emma hurried into the apartment and set the box on the coffee table with a relieved groan before setting her bags on the floor. She turned around, seeing Killian standing in the doorway holding up the key, so she stepped up to him and reached for it, but he pulled his hand away. “Ah, ah, perhaps gratitude is in order before I give it to you,” he said, pressing a finger to his lips in suggestion.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, ignoring his choice of words and the way his lips pouted when the pad of his finger made contact with it. “Can I have my key back now?”

“That’s all your key is worth to you?” he asked cockily, stepping closer and licking his lips.

Emma blushed and shook her head, thinking of other things he could be doing with those lips and tongue of his. “I don’t kiss strangers.” She held out her hand. “The key, please.”

Killian grinned and extended his free hand, taking hers to shake it. “Of course, the name’s Killian Jones.”

Emma scoffed, but didn’t pull away. She really had to give this guy kudos for his persistence. So, with hesitance, Emma gripped his hand firmer, hoping it hurt. “Emma Swan.”

“Well now that we’re not strangers anymore… how about that kiss?”

Emma blushed and opened her mouth, flicking her tongue around the inside and scanning his features. This guy was really asking for a good beatdown, but she couldn’t give him that kind of satisfaction, and she knew he wasn’t going to back down easily. She’d have to call the cops on his cocky ass first.

So, instead, she fisted her hands around his shirt, and in one swift motion, launched towards him, smashing her lips into his. Their mouths collided in a searing kiss, and the surprised groan that tore from his throat surged through her body, making her shiver all the way down to her toes as their mouths opened for one another in cadence.

Their tongues swiped fiercely at one another and connected, liquid heat rushing through her veins as he cupped the back of her head in his hands, eager fingers weaving through her golden locks. Emma felt like she was suffocating in his hold, but she didn’t want it to stop. His scruff was scraping against her skin, she craved it every time they parted against one another, and his lips were soft, but firmly pressed to hers and so delicious, she hated him for it.

Slanting their heads and drawing in the other’s breath until there was no air left in her lungs, she pressed him closer, her breasts hard against his chest. He responded with a growl, the deep rumble rising from his throat and tugging her belly. As sexy as it was—the kiss, the man on the other side of it, the gentle way he sucked her tongue and bit her bottom lip, the noises he made as she swallowed them all down—the sound made her stumble back to reality and literally, yanking her from the lust currently muddling her brain, and she ripped her mouth from his, gasping onto him for dear life.

He chased her lips, but she pulled away, taking in the way he looked—completely destroyed, his eyes hooded and dark as he blinked several times, his lips swollen as he tried to catch his breath.

“That was…”

“A one time thing.” Emma took advantage of his vulnerable state and grabbed her key from his grasp, pushing him backwards until he was in the hallway. He was completely devastated and bewildered when she grabbed the knob and slammed the door in his face.

After that, she had done everything she could to avoid him because every time she saw him, the memory of that day came flooding back, and all she wanted was to forget.

So when Emma had hurried into the elevator in her tight, low-cut red dress after chasing and catching a mark, looking forward to taking off her heels, slipping into a hot bath and reading a good book, she hadn’t expected her stupid neighbor to jump in before the doors slid shut. She also hadn’t expected him to be carrying a bottle of rum he bought from the liquor store and she hadn’t expected him to be even more handsome than she’d remembered. She also hadn’t expected the elevator to stop working and their phones to be out of service.

Fucking hell.

And now they’re sitting on the floor sharing the bottle of rum as she tries to convince Killian she hates him. Which she does.

“Then why did you kiss me if you hate me so much?”

“To get you off my back.”

Killian raises an eyebrow, a wicked smirk tainting his lips. God, he really needs to stop doing that. It makes her heart flutter too fucking much. “Love, if anything, kissing me would put youon your back.”

Emma rolls her eyes, mumbling under her breath,  “You wish.”

They haven’t had much to drink, but Emma’s feeling a buzz as she hands over the bottle of rum and glances at her annoying neighbor who takes another swig from it. At least the tiny bit of alcohol in her system makes him more tolerable, and if she’s being honest, his eyes seem to be even more blue, his smile much more attractive and the thing he does with his eyebrow is way more sultry than she’d prefer to admit.  

Killian gulps down the amber liquid and lowers the bottle, wetting those pretty pink lips of his.

Emma wishes she were the one awarded with that task, of feeling his lips and scruff against her skin (but it’s only the alcohol speaking) as she leans back against the wall, averting her gaze away from him.

“I’ve an idea.”

Lifting a brow, she turns her head to face him again. “Uh oh, this can’t be good… unless your idea is getting the elevator to work so we can part ways of course.”

Killian emits a suppressed laugh as he cranes his neck, languidly rolling the back of his head against the wall to look her in the eye. “And give you what we both know you don’t really want? I think not. I had quite a different plan, actually.”

“And what’s that?” Emma’s definitely not interested in anything he has brewing in that dirty mind of his. Not. at. all.

Killian’s lips widen into a dark smirk, his eyes glittering with a combination of mirth and devilry, and her breath does not catch in her throat, nor does her heart stutter. Okay, maybe a little. “I want to play a game. You claim I have no effect on you, you claim you hate me with every breath you take, so I say, you prove it.”

Okay, Emma kind of said that, and she kind of likes where this is going. “No problem, Jones. Tell me what I have to do,” she murmurs before grabbing the bottle of rum from his hand, their fingers making contact, and she takes a quick drink, the liquid burning as it slides down her throat.

Killian leans in, his lips way too close to her ear, and his hot breath hovering over her skin, making her shudder. “The game’s simple, really. In fact you, my love, don’t have to do a thing,” he ends with a click of his tongue, his silky accent sending shivers down her spine.

“Don’t call me that,” Emma warns him, but honestly her heart is thumping and her interest is highly piqued, “but please do go on.”

“It’s called Ten Minutes. You give me ten minutes to do anything I want to you—touching, teasing, kissing, biting, whatever I want. You so much as moan or make any sound of pleasure, you lose.”

Emma bites her lip at the idea of him doing all those things to her and feels heat creeping into her cheeks. “And if I win? What do I get out of this?”

“If you win, I will never bother you again.”

A grin spreads across her lips. “Okay, you totally made this game up, but sure, I’ll play along,” she decides confidently. She has no doubt she’ll win, so why not? Emma sits up and places the bottle on the floor, glancing over at him again. “You’re on, Jones.” She stands from the floor, ready to get this over with as she looks down at him, waiting for him.

For a second, Killian seems surprised, his pupils dilating with disbelief, and his cocky bravado suddenly vanquished. “Really? You’ll play along?”

Emma shrugs. “Sure, why not? I will definitely win this, so I’m not worried.”

Killian’s eyes light up in excitement, a mischief-laced smirk gracing his sinful-looking mouth as he stands up pulling out his phone to bring up the timer. “Before I start, shall we establish some rules?”

“Well, you said whatever you want. So rules kind of defeat the purpose, don’t you think?”

He grins and sets the timer. “I do love the way you think, Swan. Although, if it were up to me, we’d be in your room instead of this elevator and you’d be completely naked.”

Emma’s cheeks flush with pink and she bites her lips to suppress the imagery his words have formed. “Yeah, too bad we don’t have that option at the moment. Let’s just get this over with.”

“As you wish.” Killian presses start and sets the phone down before coming up behind her.

Emma loses a breath, her heart pounding when she feels Killian’s touch as he slides his hands down her arms. The path of his fingertips ignite her skin, she trembles and closes her eyes, preparing herself for anything. Why didn’t she accept his offer for setting rules again?

Killian swipes her hair over one shoulder, and his hands move to her shoulders, gently rubbing and kneading soothing circles into her skin.

“Really? You can do anything you want, and you go with a back massage?” she asks with a snort, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

She can feel his breath on her skin when he leans in, whispering into her ear. “I’m just warming you up. You’re too tense, just relax.” His voice is soothing and sinful all at once and his hands actually feel amazing as he works on her shoulders and upper back,  but she doesn’t make a sound.

Emma draws in a shaky breath, letting it out very slowly as he gently works on the knots in her muscles.

“That’s a good lass,” he purrs, and this time his lips are on the shell of her ear, making her quiver underneath his touch.

Killian moves down her back, kneading and smoothing the tightened muscles, but he doesn’t stay there very long, because it’s probably been two minutes already. It’s only been two minutes and he’s barely touched her, but Emma’s already completely sober and she can feel her body crumbling to pieces underneath him, a tingling sensation all over, the blood rushing to her head, making her dizzy. She tries to think about other things, but as soon as Killian grabs her hips and presses her flush against his body, Emma gasps. She bites back a moan when his lips descend to her neck, exposed and flushed, as she attempts to steady her breathing. His mouth is warm and heavenly, and his breath is blazing hot, massaging her pulse point, his stubble scratching her skin, tongue darting out to lick her tender flesh.

You can do this, she tries to coax herself, but let’s face it, she’s a fragmented mess, her core is aching and her nipples are hard as a rock. She still remains confident… until he takes the bottom of her dress in his hands, scrunching up the fabric and pulling it to her hips, exposing her panty-covered nub. His hands find the apex of her thighs, palming her flesh and she has to bite her bottom lip wishing he were closer to her center, which at this point is dripping wet. At the same time, she hopes he doesn’t because then he would know the effect he has on her, if her trembling body, shallow breaths and the way she molds into him doesn’t already. Killian begins kissing the shell of her ear, his lips engaging her lobe with open-mouthed kisses. He pulls the tip of her ear with his teeth, and she can hear little groans under his breath as he massages her thighs and hips without touching the place she wants him the most.

“Fuck.” Emma’s breathing becomes ragged and loud, almost turning into a moan, and she knows she’s not going to last much longer. Killian smirks against her ear and she realizes what she’s just done. “That doesn’t count,” she attests. “It was a sound of disapproval.”  

“Whatever you say, love.” He doesn’t sound too concerned, and suddenly he’s spinning her around until her back is being pressed into the wall, Killian’s body on hers in an instant, the air escaping her lungs. He hoists her up and she squeals at the satisfying feeling of being trapped between him and the wall as she wraps her legs around his hips. His teeth are nibbling on the bare part of her shoulder, gently pulling the skin into his mouth and sucking hard, and her panties are completely drenched. Emma can no longer hold back when his erection is embedded into her center; an audible moan finally escaping her mouth. “Killian,” she breathes heavily. “Don’t stop.”

Killian lifts his head, looking into her eyes, and to her surprise, he’s not giving her a smug smirk or quirky brow; he appears to be utterly wrecked, his eyes clouded with lust. “I wasn’t planning on it.” He captures her lips and thrusts his hips into hers, their clothed centers rubbing together so deliciously, Emma thinks she might come right there.

Killian can sense she’s close and kisses her breathlessly, his tongue sweeping into her mouth and finding hers. She swallows the groan he offers when their tongues collide in a fiery, rapid duo and she grinds her hips against his, seeking more friction.

Without breaking the kiss, his hand moves from her waist and slides between her thighs, pushing her panties aside, his fingers slipping into her wet, aching heat. Emma’s cries are muffled by his mouth, but not restrained as she moves her hips, chasing more of his fingers. Killian releases her lips, smirking against her mouth, panting fiercely.

“You like when I touch you, don’t you, love?”

Emma whimpers when his movements stop.

“Tell me, Emma.”

“Fuck you,” she mutters, her breathing shaky as she bucks her hips, begging for him.

Killian growls, plunging his fingers into her heat, and she’s really starting to love that sound. “Tell me you love when I touch you.”

“Yes! I love when you touch me! I love the effect you have on me!” she screams, hoping he’ll relieve her of this blissful torture.

Thankfully, he gives her what she craves, and so much more, as he pumps three digits into her, his thumb flicking her clit. “That’s a good girl.”

She whimpers, her nectar erupting over his hand, fingers tightening around his shoulders. She’s never been a fan of foreplay; whenever she’s bedded a man, he’s never been talented enough to pleasure her with his hand alone. In fact, she’s never really been that satisfied in bed, but God , she loves being fucked by Killian’s fingers. And she hates that she loves it.

“You stupid asshole!”

“That’s it. Let this asshole make you come.”

Letting her head fall back, hitting the wall, she screams unabashedly when she jolts and explodes with ripples of pleasure because Jeezus. Fucking. Christ. That’s incredible.

Killian’s movements slow, letting her ride his fingers through the aftershocks as she slumps against the wall, fighting for air.

Somewhere during that time, when her mind is floating on a blissful cloud, the elevator comes to life and Killian hurries to right her clothing, letting her feet fall to the ground before he smooths out her dress, pressing it into place. They look at the timer and there’s still thirty seconds left. Killian grins, his eyebrow curving, and now his cockiness is shining through again, but she doesn’t care. Emma takes his hand and pulls him out of the elevator.

His face contorts in confusion. “Where are we going?”

“We’re raising the stakes,” she replies, a bit of devilry in her smile.

Killian arches a brow in curiosity as they reach her door. “Please do tell, love.”

Emma retrieves her keys from her purse, unlocking the door as she looks over at him. “You’ve won, obviously, so let’s see how many times you can make me come.” Emma’s smirk reeks of mischief as she leans in, whispering in his ear. “But instead of ten minutes… you get an hour.” She can hear him gasp as she slightly pulls away. “Unless you’re not up to the challenge of course.”

Killian stands there practically drooling as his tongue traces his bottom lip, excitement buzzing in those goddamn blue eyes. “Oh I’m up. I’m very up.”

Emma giggles and takes his hand, pulling him inside the apartment, never breaking their gaze. “Good.”

Read Part Two here

Tagging people who asked to be tagged and also a few more, so I’m hoping I didn’t miss anyone ❤ @rouhn @resident-of-storybrooke @onceuponaprincessworld @teamhook @laschatzi @superchovan @artistic-writer @kmomof4 @deathbycaptainswan @followbatb @captainswan-shipper88 @kiwistreetswan @bestshipcaptainswan @andiirivera @coliferoncer @jonirobinson64 @gingerchangeling @thislassishooked @hookswan25 @piratesbooty63fan @dmarien @aye-captn @ilovemesomekillianjones @mrsjones666 @searchingwardrobes @officerrogers @klar425 @myswan-myhappyending-mylove @capswantrue @takhisismb @innocenceneverfound @kymbersmith-90 @courtorderedcake @kday426 @its-about-bloody-time-cs @jackieorioncat @fandomnerd12 @branlovesouat

[alluringholland]

the good die young, but so did this #5 | t.h.

WARNINGS: angst, smut, alcoholism, drug abuse, manipulation, an all around bad time

part 5: sorry (previous)

“I've missed your calls for months it seems/Don't realize how mean I can be/’Cause I can sometimes treat the people/That I love like jewelry”

Present day.

His name was Derek. He was a positive, happy person. I mean like, he believed in fairy tale happy endings, and he believed in soulmates. He was optimistic. He could see the best in you, even when you were at your worst.

I kind of hated that about him.

When we first met, I made it clear that I was trouble and not worth getting to know. Of course, that only reeled him in and he wanted to know what lied behind my mysterious exterior. He's not ugly, so I let him in for that night. Then, I just lost the ability to say no when he asked me out on am actual date. It went on for a little bit, maybe six months or so. In hindsight, it wasn't the best thing to do on my part.

I wasn't really happy with him, even though I logically should have been. If I shut him out, he waited until I was ready. If I ignored him because I was stuck in my own head, he didn’t interrogate me and pester me for information. He brought me coffee when I was doing a shoot. He took me on day trips to the beach. He got me fidget toys and books that would help me combat my rapidly developing social anxiety.

The closer he got, the more I wanted to run. So that’s what I did.

Being me, it was over a text. However, he wasn’t having any of it, so we met up outside my apartment building. To say I wasn’t expecting him to cry was an understatement.

“I just don’t think I’m good for you,” I said simply, unable to look him in the eyes. Maybe I should cry too, so it could look like it hurt me too.

“That’s your excuse?” he said back, voice trembling.

“Do you want a list? I thought you could see everything that’s wrong with me!” I told him, genuinely confused as to why he couldn’t see it my way. “I never call you, you’re always planning the dates, I’m really closed off, I don’t like to do the things you like to do.”

“Well, there’s always time to work on that! I know you’ve got things going on, but that doesn’t mean that this can’t work.” He stepped towards me, offering his hands. “At least tell me what I did wrong.”

I took a step back, folding my arms. “It was never you. Everything is on me.”

Derek scoffed. “Are you really pulling that card?”

Now it just felt like everything I was saying was the wrong thing. How could I get him to leave me alone?

“You’ll find someone better, trust me.”

“I don’t want anyone else!”

How in the shit-

“Can you just ignore the negative thoughts in your head for one moment and just let someone take care of you?” Derek asked, frustrated.

No. I guess I can’t.

“I just need to be by myself for a while,” I concluded.

“You're just shutting yourself away!” he snapped. “You think you can do things by yourself but you can't! You're never gonna be happy if you don't let people in!”

I have let one person in. It backfired horribly.

One thing I liked about Derek was that he wasn't consumed by the toxicity of Hollywood. He was a nobody from a small town in Northern California. He was never interested in celebrity gossip and pop culture. The only thing he used the Internet for was Netflix and video games. Long story short, he didn't hear about my “scandals” through the grapevine, he heard them from me. I thought it would drive him away, but instead it just made him stay, and I didn't get it.

But if he had some inkling on who I was or who my ex was, it would be easier to understand why I was doing this. It bothered me that I knew why I was doing this. I guess Barb was right: I shouldn't have thrown myself into dating so soon. All I've done now is hurt a person who didn't deserve it.

~

4 years ago.

“I still have feelings for my ex. I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry. Please don't contact me again.”

As soon as I sent that text, I grabbed my wallet and car keys and threw my hungover ass out the door. My heart was beating like it had just come back to life. I got in the car and pulled out of the driveway, hauling ass to the hotel I was supposed to go to.

It had been a long four months of being… mostly single. My heart had been shattered when Tom called and decided that he didn't want to do the long distance thing anymore. Of course there was crying and yelling, if he had been within my reach I would have thrown something at him. It was sudden and painful to know that the thing that kept me going wasn't there anymore.

What did I do? Publicly, I went through a dramatic change in style. I cut my hair, wore darker makeup, and I did a Playboy photoshoot butt naked. I walked in Paris Fashion Week. I was booking more and more projects than I ever had. Privately, I went to the closest bar and let someone put their hands all over my body. I woke up in a different stranger's bed almost every morning until one particular stranger stuck around. Their name was erased from my brain as soon as Tom messaged me saying he wanted to see me.

My mind was cloudy from leftover liquor and thoughts of Tom, making it hard to focus on the road. Several people honked at me, to which I stuck my middle finger out the window. My phone was buzzing like crazy, and I wasn't sure if it was my new ex, my old ex, or Nancy. I was too anxious to check, until I was at a stoplight.

I grabbed my phone from the cup holder and looked at the notifications. A short text from the new ex. “Ok lol let me know when you're over it.” Then the light turned green.

I still looked through my phone as I drove. Nancy sent me a voice clip.

“Why did you leave your house? You're supposed to stay out of the public eye for now. Call me when you can.”

Oh yeah, I had a bit of a “scandal�� not too long ago. I drank too much at a bar and yelled some obscenities at the same time someone had their phone camera on. My “poised and professional” image was tainted, so the best option was to just stay under the radar. I wasn't good at following the rules, so Nancy got access to the security cameras outside my house, and if I did anything reckless, she would call someone to handle me.

Today was one of those days, but I had a valid reason.

“Tom is in town! I have to see him!” I yelled into my phone as I swerved in and out of lanes. “I'm also a little hungover, so let it be know that I'll probably die for the dick!”

Hopefully it would be good news to Nancy that I'm linking up with someone who was the epitome of purity and goodness in the eyes of practically the entire world. It would either make me look better or Tom look bad. Either way, people would be talking about us. None of this was real, right?

I got to the hotel. Tom had told me over text that someone would be waiting for me in the lobby. I parked and got out of the car. If anyone had followed me, then it would be known in a few hours that Tom Holland and his ex girlfriend were seen together at his hotel in Los Angeles.

That didn't matter.

A security guard in the lobby recognized me, and he escorted me to the top floor of the hotel. My heart was stuck in my throat, and my stomach was turning uncomfortably. Holy shit, this was happening.

The security guard opened the door for me, and I stepped inside the room. I almost vomited out my heart and lungs just from seeing Tom sat in the armchair across the room. I stepped towards him, trying and failing to keep myself calm and collected. My nerves were painted all over my face.

I walked down the small hallway, passing the bathroom. I was at a loss for words.

Tom looked at me, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. He stood up and walked towards me as well.

The bathroom door opened from behind me, acting as the record scratch to kill the moment. I turned around to find a beautiful woman who I instantly recognized emerging from the toilet.

She was in sweats, her curly hair in an unkempt bun, and not a spec of makeup was on her face. She was stunning and radiated beauty. Her presence also made my stomach drop down to my feet and my blood run cold.

Zendaya was just as surprised to see me, given that she stopped dead in her tracks. Her pretty eyes went wide, and she just stood there for a second. Surely she had to know who I was. She had to know what this meant.

She quickly composed herself. “Alright, I'm out.” And she turned on her heel and left the room.

As soon as the door shut, I turned back to Tom. He had a guilty look on his face.

“What was the point of getting me over here?” I asked, feeling dumber and dumber by the second.

“I miss you,” he told me.

“Why was she here?”

“She's my friend.”

I narrowed my eyes. I looked at the bed, the unmade sheets. Then I practically dived for the mattress, which made Tom go a little crazy.

“No!” he yelled as he grabbed me around the waist.

I reached for something to get away, but I only got ahold of the duvet. I thrashed and tried to elbow my way out of his hold, but he was strong. The duvet was pulled back as Tom manhandled me, and I saw what I needed to see.

A tiny bit of red lace under the sheets said more than enough.

“You cheated!” I cried out. “You fucking cheated!”

Tom pushed me against the wall, trying to hold my flailing arms down. “Hey, hey, listen to me!”

“You asshole! You piece of shit!” I yelled in his face. I angrily pounded on his chest with my fists, tears coming out of my eyes.

He grabbed my wrists and cornered me. “Shut up!”

That worked. I froze in my place, now feeling small and trapped.

“I did not cheat, we've been broken up, remember?” he said harshly. “I called you here to tell you that I live here now, and I wanted to work things out.”

I sniffed and tilted my head. “H-Here?”

“Well, not here. My flat isn't ready yet, not for another day. Anyway, that doesn't matter. I've missed you, and I shouldn't have let you go.”

“You're so full of shit. You expect me to believe that when you've got Zendaya’s underwear in your bed?!”

He didn't try to deny it. “What, like you haven't slept with anyone else? She was the only one!”

“So you basically moved on.”

“I tried, but I couldn't. I made a mistake.” He loosened his grip on my arms, and his expression softened. “I love you, only you. I understand if you don't believe me, but it's true. I just want to be with you.”

He gave me those puppy eyes and kissed my hands. He brought my hands to his chest, making me feel his heartbeat.

“I don't believe you,” I said honestly. That was the most honest I would be today.

Why would he want me again? What was it about me that made him pick me over every other person he's probably seen? I wasn't anything worth fighting for. He made that clear only a few months ago.

Tom leaned in and softly kissed my cheek. “Please…” He kissed my jaw. “What do I have to do?”

“Stop talking to her,” I said without missing a beat. I hadn’t even finished the thought before it spilled out of my mouth.

That made him lean back, surprised. “Seriously?”

“I know. I don't like being against other women but… if I see you with her again… I don't know what I'll do.” I paused. “And you can't go out to bars and places like that unless I'm with you.”

“Babe, come on…” He took a step back and thought for a second. “If I can't hang out with my friends, then you're not allowed to hang out with Nessa.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Don't give me that look. She's got you doing all sorts of stupid shit!”

“Oh, like you've never done stupid shit with your friends!”

“Well, I can't anymore because I'm not allowed!”

I pushed him away. It was pointless to come here.

“Hey, I didn't say I wouldn't do it!” Tom called after me as I walked towards the door. When I ignored him, he went after me.

He grabbed my arm and pushed me against the wall again. This time, he kissed me on the mouth. For a split second, I fought back, not wanting anything to do with him. But he was just so enticing and delicious that my body quickly gave in, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. I did miss the feeling, after all. There was nobody like Tom.

Next thing I knew, he was lifting me up by my legs and holding me up against the wall. His hips fit perfectly against mine, and his touch was getting a lot more addicting. I gripped the back of his head with one hand and dug my nails into his back with the other, not wanting to let go. His hands felt up my ass and pulled me in even closer. I missed this, I missed it when it was from Tom.

But then he stopped. He put me down and stepped back. He was breathless, but he looked at the floor.

“Why…?” I whispered, now left wanting more. Was this not what I came here for?

“Let’s save this for when I’m in my new place,” he suggested. “This room has gone through enough as it is.”

I glanced at the bed behind him. I could still see the red lace. Now I could understand why these things happened. We were broken up, we didn’t owe each other anything, simple as that. He did what he had to do to move on, but it seems that it didn’t work, and that was baffling. Why would he pick me over someone like Zendaya?

“So, where are we at now?” I asked.

“Let’s take things slow, yeah?” he replied.

“Good idea.” Everything he said sounded like a good idea.

~

I went back home with the promise that I would see him later. My legs felt like jelly as I walked through my front door, and my head was spinning with lovesickness. For the first time in a while, I felt content. I had a smile on my face as I threw my shoes off and dropped my bag on the floor.

I went out to the backyard and sat by the pool, scrolling on my phone. The outside world - cyber and physical - seemed so weird now that my little world with Tom was building up again. It was like nothing else mattered.

I felt a small snap of reality when Nessa texted me. My stomach sank a little bit because I remembered the deal I had made. So now I was stuck with a choice.

“We still on for tonight??”

What happening tonight? What was I supposed to tell her? I tried to type, but the screen froze and my phone grew hot. Then, the device restarted on itself, leaving me with the black Apple screen.

“God decided for me, I guess,” I said as I placed my phone on table.

Suddenly, I heard a knock on my front door, followed by it opening. I sat up, completely distracted from my thoughts, and I watched Nancy and Charlotte enter the vicinity. Neither of them looked happy. In fact, they both looked incredibly pissed off.

“You are an irresponsible woman with no regard for the rules!” Charlotte yelled. Guess there was no time for a greeting. “You had specific instructions to not leave the property and what do you do? You get photographed outside Tom Holland's hotel in West Hollywood! Not only that, you were also seen almost causing a crash on the 405! Do you have any idea what you've done?”

“I have a boyfriend again,” I replied softly.

The two women looked at each other for a moment.

“You're talking about Tom?” Nancy asked, and I nodded. “And you didn't consult with us? If you wanted to do another PR-”

“It's not PR!” I snapped as I stood up from the couch. “Some of these relationships in Hollywood are real, you know! He wanted to see me!”

Nancy was about to retort, but her phone started ringing. She pulled it out of her purse and looked at the screen. “Ah, it's your boyfriend's publicist! Can't wait for this conversation!” She answered and went into the kitchen.

“You were supposed to wait for the public to stop talking about the bar incident before stepping outside again,” Charlotte scolded. “You were supposed to speak to one of us before leaving!”

I shrugged. If I hadn't gone to the hotel, what would have happened? Tom probably would have continued to fuck Zendaya, and maybe I would have slept the whole day.

“He's a sweetheart and I have to look better in front of the world,” I said simply. Maybe if I put it in her terms, she would come around. “It'll work. And if not, he and I can see each other privately.”

“But you've already seen each other publicly, that's the problem!”

I rolled my eyes. Enough was enough. “Someone loves me! Tom still loves me! I'm not just gonna give that up!”

“God, you're just as irrational as you were the day he left you,” Charlotte grumbled.

At that moment, the rage boiled over and I was a hair away from slapping her across the face. My hand jerked halfway up to do so, but Nancy entered the room again, cutting the tension.

“I have some things to go over,” she announced, oblivious to the air in the room.

“What'd they say?” I asked, masking my anger.

“They think yours and Tom's reputations balance each other out. You'll make him look more mature and grown, and he'll make you look responsible and down-to-earth,” she explained. “There will be a couple of PR outings where the two of you will act like friends and nothing more. We'll leave the rest for the fans to speculate.”

“Well, I'm seeing him either way, so…” I mumbled.

“But you need to behave yourself in public. No more bars and parties, alright?” Nancy said with a warning tone.

“Got it.”

_____

next.

[cyclone-rachel]

@peskyshortcake @fire-night-sky

the Brainy and Alexis partners in crime AU playlist

Alone Together- Fall Out Boy

I don't know where you're going But do you got room for one more troubled soul? I don't know where I'm going But I don't think I'm coming home and I said I'll check in tomorrow if I don't wake up dead This is the road to ruin And we're starting at the end Say yeah (yeah!) Let's be alone together (yeah)

Dance, Dance- Fall Out Boy

She says she's no good with words but I'm worse Barely stuttered out a joke of a romantic stuck to my tongue Weighed down with words too over-dramatic Tonight it's "It can't get much worse" Vs. "No one should ever feel like..."

Dance, dance We're falling apart to half time Dance, dance And these are the lives you love to lead Dance, this is the way they'd love If they knew how misery loved me

Dangerous- Before You Exit

She's got a first time kiss that'll lock you in She's gonna break your heart but you can't resist I know that I just met her, I know I should know better Oooo she's so dangerous I thought she was just so innocent And from the start I was giving in She's such a wreck and I can't forget That ooo she's so dangerous

Dirty Work- Halestorm

Get on your knees and let the games begin Bow to your queen and I will crown your head 'Cause I can make you every inch a king Before I do tell me, tell me what's in it for me? I need someone young, willing and able You need someone old enough to know better

EVOL- Marina and the Diamonds

It only takes two lonely people To fuck love up and make it evil It only takes a drop of evil To fuck up two beautiful people L.O.V.E. L.O.V.E. L.O.V.E. E.V.O.L. L.O.V.E., do you love me? L.O.V.E., love is evil Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker Every kiss you give me makes me sicker A day in the dark, a day in a cloud of gloom, yeah

For Reasons Unknown- The Killers

With one deep breath, and one big step, I move a little bit closer. I move a little bit closer. For reasons unknown. I caught my stride. I flew and flied. I know if destiny’s kind, I’ve got the rest of my mind. But my heart, it don’t beat, it don’t beat the way it used to. And my eyes, they don’t see you no more. And my lips, they don’t kiss, they don’t kiss the way they used to, and my eyes don’t recognize you no more. For reasons unknown; for reasons unknown.

Heroes- All Time Low

Yeah this is moving in the same direction But I'm a little too spent to care Cause it's a battlefield till it blows over Keep your friends close and your enemies closer We're throwing stones though we live in glass houses We talk shit like it's a cross to bear You're only relevant until you get older Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, enemies closer

I Don’t Love You- My Chemical Romance

Well, when you go So never think, I'll make you try to stay And maybe when you get back I'll be off to find another way When you go Would you even turn to say, "I don't love you Like I did Yesterday."

I Forgive You- Every Avenue

From you, I could throw my cares away now I know how freedom taste and I thank you for the pain cause now I can deal with anything You, you had a way of keeping me on my toes I forgive you for the truth I liked you better when you lied, and I forgive you being you cause you were better when you faked every smile

I Miss the Misery- Halestorm

I've been a mess since you stayed I've been a wreck since you changed Don't let me get in your way I miss the lies and the pain The fights that keep us awake-ake-ake I'm tellin you! I miss the bad things The way you hate me I miss the screaming The way that you blame me! Miss the phone calls When it's your fault I miss the late nights Don't miss you at all! I like the kick in the face And the things you do to me! I love the way that it hurts! I don't miss you, I miss the misery!

Just The Way I’m Not- All Time Low

I'm a waste of chances, Full of bad romances, Your favorite enemy, And your most hated friend. When it hurts it hurts, You wonder if it's worth it. But when it works it works, When it's broke it's perfect. Woah oh! Never seem to please you, no, Don't you ever let me go, I know your heart is shut, shut, shut. And don't you know, Nothing's gonna change us.

Kiss With a Fist- Florence + The Machine

My black eye casts no shadow Your red eye sees no blame Your slaps don't stick Your kicks don't hit So we remain the same Blood sticks, sweat drips Break the lock if it don't fit A kick in the teeth is good for some A kiss with a fist is better than none Whoa a kiss with a fist is better than none

Love is a Suicide- Natalia Kills

You like the smell of blood When it's pumpin' like a factory Ooh, you like your words to cut You like to choose the best artillery I wonder who you're thinkin' of Who am I Am I the epitome Of everything you hate And you desire You love me like an enemy

It feels so surgical How you dissect every mistake I make

Love Me Dead- Ludo

She moves through moonbeams slowly She knows just how to hold me And when her edges soften, her body is my coffin I know she drains me slowly She wears me down to bones in bed... Must be the sign on my head, it says "Oh, love me dead!" You're a faith-healer on tv You're an office park without any trees Corporate and cold, gushing for gold, leave me alone

Love me cancerously Brrrot-dot-da-d-da-da! Brrrot-dot-da-d-da-da! How's your new boy? Does he know about me? You've got the mark of the beast You're born of a jackal! You're beautiful!

Lovefool- The Cardigans

Dear, I fear we're facing a problem You love me no longer, I know And maybe there is nothing That I can do to make you do Mama tells me I shouldn't bother That I ought to stick to another man A man that surely deserves me But I think you do! So I cry, and I pray, and I beg Love me, love me Say that you love me Fool me, fool me Go on and fool me Love me, love me Pretend that you love me Leave me, leave me Just say that you need me

The Luthors- Blake Neely

(instrumental)

Mama- My Chemical Romance

And when we go don't blame us, yeah. We'll let the fire just bathe us, yeah. You made us, oh, so famous. We'll never let you go. And when you go don't return to me my love. Mama, we're all full of lies. Mama, we're meant for the flies. And right now they're building a coffin your size, Mama, we're all full of lies.

Miss Murder- AFI 

With just a look they shook And heavens bowed before him. Simply a look can break your heart. The stars that pierce the sky; He left them all behind. We’re left to wonder why He left us all behind. 

Dreams of his crash won’t pass Oh, how they all adored him Beauty will last when spiraled down.

Mz. Hyde- Halestorm

Good girl gone bad, my poison is your remedy Better be scared, better be afraid Now that the beast is out of her cage And I know you Wanna risk it You know you Are so addicted Boy, you better run for your life

Never Surrender- Skillet

Do you know what it's like when You're scared to see yourself? Do you know what it's like when You wish you were someone else Who didn't need your help to get by? Do you know what it's like To wanna surrender? I don't wanna feel like this tomorrow I don't wanna live like this today Make me feel better I wanna feel better Stay with me here now And never surrender

Please Don’t Leave Me- Pink

I can be so mean when I wanna be, I am capable of really anything, I can cut you into pieces, When my heart is broken. Da da da da da Please, don't leave me [2x] I always say how I don't need you But it's always gonna come right back to this Please, don't leave me

Sometimes- Skillet

Sometimes I don't wanna be better Sometimes I can't be put back together Sometimes I find it hard to believe There's someone else who could be Just as messed up as me Sometimes don't deny That everything is wrong Sometimes rather die Than to admit it's my fault Sometimes when you cry I just don't care at all I don't know why I do the things I do to you but...

Starring Role- Marina and the Diamonds

It almost feels like a joke to play out a part When you are not the starring role in someone else's heart You know I'd rather walk alone than play a supporting role If I can't get the starring role Sometimes I ignore you, so I feel in control 'Cause really, I adore you, and I can't leave you alone Fed up with the fantasies that cover what is wrong Come on, baby, let's just get drunk, forget we don't get on

Stop Me- Natalia Kills

Darling, darling You know I never meant to drag you down Standing at the bar with your scars and your lonely heart So let's leave this dead-end town If I, if I run away with you tonight, tonight We could make the wrongs feel right, so right We could do some damage

Tell Me I’m a Wreck- Every Avenue

I could have been easier on you I could have been all you held onto I know I wasn't fair, I tried my best to care about you I know I could have been a better man But I always had to have the upper hand I'm struggling to see the better side of me But I can't take all your jabs and taunts You're pointing out my every fault And you wonder why I walked away

Toxic- Britney Spears

Baby, can’t you see I’m calling A guy like you Should wear a warning It’s dangerous I’m fallin’ There’s no escape I can’t wait I need a hit Baby, give me it You’re dangerous I’m lovin’ it

Villain- Hedley

I'm so cold and far away from home You're so tired and so damn alone It's darker and much harder to be me So far away from my reality I hate the way you look, I'm looking back I hate the way I look, you're looking too I think maybe I'm just falling, falling, falling And you kiss me like you know inside of me (let me lead you, let me follow) And you watch me fight my own insanity (let me lead you, let me follow)

You Can Do Better Than Me- Death Cab for Cutie

I'm starting to feel We stayed together out of fear of dying alone

I have to face the truth That no one could ever look at me like you do Like I'm something worth holding on to There's times I think of leaving But it's something I'll never do 'Cause you can do better than me But I can't do better than you

Young God- Halsey

He says, "Oh, baby girl, you know we're gonna be legends I'm the king and you're the queen and we will stumble through heaven If there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes”

But do you feel like a young god? You know the two of us are just young gods And we'll be flying through the streets with the people underneath And they're running, running, running 

[naughty-teddy-innit]

A Sharp Tongue…A Mature Angry Ed Oneshot  (NSFW)

https://naughty-teddy-innit.tumblr.com/post/164686788130/masterlist-of-ed-fics-goodiesTitle:      A Sharp Tongue: An Angry/Rough Ed Oneshot (REQUEST)

Author: @naughty-teddy-innit

Rating:  NC-17/MATURE/NSFW 

*TRIGGER WARNING*- Teddy is ROUGH, push and pull of an argument happens, but everything that happens is 100% CONSENSUAL xoxox

Author’s Note:  I wrote this quite a while ago, because who DOESN’T need Bossy/Angry/Rough Teddy now and then, and it was requested!  >:)  Please please pretty please, send me feedback, notes and all horny thoughts by leaving a comment or shooting me an Ask! I LOVE ASKS!  I love to hear from you guys! By all means feel free to reblog should you feel so inclined :-D 

ENJOY!

-------------------------------

What a FUCKING day.  One thing after another; late for this, missed that, asshole interviewer here and a migraine there.  Managing to make it to the venue on time helped, but 2 broken strings and an uncooperative Chewie Monster later, even I could tell Ed was at Fuck It ALL level. This was clearly a night where alcohol was going to be a necessity.  In all the time I’ve known Ed, been drawn in by his smile, his patience, his kindness, I’ve rarely been witness to real anger.  When he means business?  It’s clear, but his gentleness and positivity were just who he is.  He was a calming force to be sure, but everybody has a breaking point, and damned if he wasn’t right the fuck at it tonight.  

“TREV!” I jumped suddenly, not used to hearing THAT tone come from my usually sweet Boy.  “The fuck happened??  How’m I supposed to end the show with no goddamn guitar and no fucking loop??”

“Baby…he’s doing the best he can, he’s only got 2 hands…” I said softly, trying to placate him, seeing how wound up he was.  

“His job is to make sure when shit goes wrong I don’t look like a sodding idiot in front of all those people!”  He glared and stormed off, fists clenched.

“Trev…” I started to say, feeling awful.  

“Darlin’, everybody’s allowed a bad day now n then.  No skin off my back, don’t worry!” Trevor said cheerfully. “A bigger heart there was never was, he’s a good lad.”   He wandered off towards the stage to start packing up his gear for the next show, and I hurried off to find my extraordinarily cranky boyfriend.  

I knew his first stop after a show was usually the closest shower, so I figured his dressing room was a safe bet.  I let myself in, and sure enough, I could hear water running.  I flopped down on the couch, and exhaled, allowing my thoughts to wander to my cranky-yet-sexy boyfriend.  His patience and gentleness tended to translate to most areas of his life. Rarely if ever did you two blow-up and have fights, and he had the patience of a saint most of the time.  Even in other areas….you could feel your cheeks pinking up and a naughty grin pulled at your lips.  There was no dancing around it, spending Naked Time with Edward Christopher Sheeran was top of your Ways to Spend Your Time list.  His soft perfectly pink lips, his scratchy cheeks, his long fingers, his silky, soft, copper curls, his strong, inked up arms, and all the other cuddly, strong parts of his body, these were the things I could spend hours touching and kissing and loving.  Sex was ALWAYS good with Ed, he was a love-maker, a worshiper and a sweetheart. His focus was never getting himself off, it was always seemed to be about me.  Every kiss, every caress, every breath was about him taking his time with me and showing me how much he adored me.  I never felt more loved and cherished then when we made love. He was the epitome of gentleness and kindness is every way.  

Honestly though…there were times…well, he could stand to be a little LESS gentle, ya know?  Ed wasn’t one to be the bad boy, to take control or be rough. A girl needs a little hair-pulling in her life now and then. I love when that man makes love to me, there’s nothing like it, but the need to be fucked till it hurts? Every girl’s got it now and then.  

“FUCK…” I gasp and bolt upright as the bathroom door flies open and bangs against the wall.  The sopping wet Ginger that stomps out of the bathroom has an empty beer bottle in his hand and damned if that face isn’t pissed.  

“Teddy…I know it’s been a rough day.  Nobody’s purposely trying to-“. He cuts me off.

“Don’t particularly give a fuck right now, quite honestly.” He snaps.  “Don’t appreciate my girl going against me when somebody on my team FUCKS UP!!”

“Wow.” Where the fuck is this coming from??  It’s not like him at all, and it’s unsettling. “What the fuck is your problem?”

He grabs his jeans, a clean button-down, boxers, and another beer.  “I don’t have time for this.  I’ve got to meet Benny and his mate at the hotel,” he mutters and he strides to the bathroom without even looking in your direction.

“How many beers have you had?” I asked irritably, noticing a couple of empties on the table.  Ed was widely known for being quite the cuddly, I-love-EVERYBODY drunk. Give the man jagerbombs and tequila and he could drink just about anyone under the table, but feed him beers and he was the world’s cheapest drunk.  Apparently mixing a bad day into a drunk Teddy made for a BAD combination.

I could hear the blow-dryer shut off, and he came stomping out of the bathroom, a sour look on his face.  “The fucks it to you, how many beers I’ve had??  God forbid I not meet your standards.”

He doesn’t even look at me.  My mouth is just about hanging open, not used to this kind of attitude.  Hell if I’m gonna sit here and take his bullshit, beer or no, bad day or no.  I stand up and head for the door.  

“You know what, everybody here cares about you and gets that bad days happen, but I’ve never done a fucking thing to earn being spoken to like that. “

He beats you to the door, after placing his last empty on the table and grabbing his wallet.  “Whatever.  I have to meet Benny.  The car’s outside, you can join me or not.”  And with that, he determinedly walks out and leaves you behind.  

With that immature outburst, I am quite assuredly NOT getting into ANY car with him right now, so I grab my things, check that I have my phone, and head out to hail a cab.  It’s late when I arrive at the hotel, and I’m half-tempted to just ignore his pissy ginger ass and head to bed, but I figure I’ll try and salvage the night one last time.  I drop my stuff in our room, run a brush through my hair and head down to bar, still irritated as hell, but hoping he’ll realize he’s being a dick.  

I’m surprised how many people are still having drinks this time of night as I wander in, and I almost have to laugh that it’s not Ed’s flaming red hair that catches my eye first, but Benny’s crazy wild brunette bouffant of curls.  Let’s be honest, they’re hard to miss. They’re sitting at the bar, talking, and surrounded by several empty shot glasses.  “Lovely,” you think, “that’ll help his mood.”  You plaster a smile on your face and purposefully walk over to them, hoping he’ll have chilled out.

“Ed…?” you touch his arm and open your mouth to continue your thought, “I-“  he doesn’t let you get another word out, and jumps off his stool, his face stormy.  

“Gonna give me shit for too many shots now??” he spits at me.  “Christ, just fucking give it a break, Mother Theresa!”  

I can smell tequila on his breath, and while he’s by no means plastered, I can tell him he’s had too much.  Benny looks like he has no clue what’s going on and jumps out of his seat, both hands out.  “Alrighty guys, too many shots I think and a fuck of a day to boot.”  He faces Ed, “Mate, take your ass up to bed.  Before she kicks it.”

He has NO fucking idea.  I am done with his shit today.  You coldly look at Ed and flip your hair out of your face.  “You?  Are being an asshole.  And I? Am finished.  Feel free to take your wounded Ginger attitude and SHOVE IT!”

As I throw my purse over my shoulder and prepare to storm out, he throws back the remainder of whatever was in the shot glass and slams it down on the bar.  I leave the bar with as much dignity as I can muster, considering there are more than a few raised eyebrows aimed in our direction.  I can hear his footsteps as he comes after me, but I have ZERO fucks to give.  I don’t know if I’ve ever been this furious with him before.  In my fury as I storm away, I fail to notice the fist-bump between Ed and Benny, as Ed shoves his stool back.  I’m crossing the hallway in the lobby, when I feel a hand clamp down on my arm and I feel myself being pulled down a hallway towards what looks like a kitchen.  

“Get your hands the FUCK off me!” I hiss, as he tries to steer me into the first empty room.  My blood is boiling and every muscle in my body is tensed.  I am ready to smack the shit out of him.  I try to pry his fingers off my arm, but he is NOT letting go.  

“Who the FUCK do you think you are????” he growls, his eyes narrowed and on fire. “I don’t need you up my ass every second of every day!  A man can’t have a sodding drink with his mate to close up a shit day??”

I only semi-notice the room we’re in, some sort of utility/change room, probably used by staff at the hotel.  

I’m not much for having a temper, I don’t scream, and usually avoid conflict at all costs, but right at this moment? I could go through the roof.  I have NEVER seen him like this, and I will NOT take his shit, alcohol induced or not. “I could GIVE two shits if you have a drink??  You’ve been treating me like shit and talking down to me all night!  You are behaving like a selfish, self-righteous prick, Sheeran, and as far as I’m concerned you can take your Asshole self and sleep somewhere else tonight!!”  I try to push past him, to grab for the door handle, but he yanks me back, his eyes blazing and teeth clenched.

“SELFISH???  Who the HELL D’YOU THINK YOU ARE, CALLING ME SELFISH, YOU BLOODY –“

I have no idea where it came from.  I’ve never remotely done anything like it before, but suddenly, my hand is moving.  I can SEE red, and my hand is aiming squarely for his cheek.  BASTARD!  I can see his eyes widen as he realizes that he is, in fact, about to be slapped.  In a split second, his hand pins mine against the wall, his body restraining me from moving.  I can feel his heart slamming against his chest, and I can see the fire in those clear blue eyes.  He’s worked up a sweat and there are damp copper curls stuck to his temples and forehead. His cheeks are flushed and he’s glowering at me, a look that is causing dampness in places it should NOT be right now. FUCK.  Why the FUCK does he have to be so goddamn sexy when he’s angry.  Like HELL am I going to let him have that effect on me right now??  I can feel that electricity, that pulse of energy and it heightens my emotion even more.  

“I swear to GOD, if you don’t get your goddamn hands off me NOW, I. WILL. SCR-“

My hands are suddenly shoved over my head and pinned to the wall, and his lips are on mine.  Hard almost biting, and there is NO way he’s pulling this and suddenly one hand is on my jaw, thumb holding my chin in place as his lips are trying to devour me, taste every bit of me, his tongue trying to taste my lips and gain access to my mouth and JESUS it’s like touching a lit match to dynamite, I can feel how wet I am, the slickness letting down, beginning to soak my panties, but I can’t NO.  He pulls this shit and thinks he can just have me at a moment’s notice?? NOT HAPPENING.  I fight back, gasping for air.

“WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE“, I manage to gasp, and when he growls and tries to grab me again, I bite down, HARD, and he hisses.

He rears back, and his fingers brush to his lips, but it doesn’t stop him. His lips are on me again, and I can feel that lightning bolt, that zap of electricity to my groin that feels like fire and if I don’t get him off me, it’s over.  I smack him, pushing him back with all my might, and the look of shock on his face, that I could be that strong, it’s fucking satisfying.  He charges at me, and before I can say word, do a thing, he’s lifted me completely up against the wall, hands running up the backs of my thighs pressing my pelvis against him, forcing my legs around his waist.

“PRICK!” I gasp into this mouth, trying to pummel his chest in a futile effort to push him away.  

“Don’t tell me you don’t want me to fuck you, I can fucking feel how wet you are! I know by now when you’re turned on.  You fucking WANT ME.” He growls.

I’m wearing a flouncy turquoise skirt and a tight, long sleeve, grey top, and the thong I’m wearing underneath is showing the evidence that he’s absolutely fucking spot-on because I can feel my wetness soaking through, and I’m so turned on I can’t see straight.  I’m still restrained against the wall, his hands on my ass, his lips forcibly kissing mine, and I’m almost embarrassed at how loud my breathing is, almost panting, when suddenly I feel his warm hands forcing my skirt up, and OH my god he’s RIPPED MY PANTIES OFF, SINCE WHEN, and suddenly I can feel his fingers push inside me, no warning, stretching me to the point of almost too much, but oh God, he’s just fucking me with his fingers, hard, fast, and oh FUCK, it feels like I’m going to splinter into tiny pieces, and suddenly they’re gone, and before I can even breathe I find myself back on feet, and I can barely keep my balance. I suck in a breath, and Fuck THIS, ALL of this, my resolve is fucking GONE.  He’s gonna hear about this later, but right now there is one thing I want. ONE. NOW.

This is lust, this is heat, this is carnal, fuck EVERYTHING else, and the only thoughts in my mind are of his rock hard cock slamming into me. I fucking need him, inside me, NOW.  It feels as though fire is trying to burn my flesh from the inside out, I want him inside me, filling me, stretching me till it hurts.  I still can’t fathom what the hell is going on, I’ve been craving this Teddy, this Ed that takes control and wants to rough me the fuck up.  I’m not even thinking about the part of him that’s being a DICK, I just know my blood is on FIRE, it’s coursing through me and I need to be fucked NOW.

I decide to egg him on, seeing how far he’ll take this. “I am not your goddamn SEX TOY!” I yell at him, before I pull myself away, and before I can gain any distance towards the door, his mouth is at my ear, his breath tickling my face, and his voice is one of pure fire, low and throaty, letting me know that HE is boss.

“You’re so fucking wet for me it’s running down your legs!!  I’m going to bend your beautiful ass over that chair and I’m going to fuck you so had you’ll be goddamn crooked tomorrow.  I will make youBLOODY. SCREAM.” He hisses.   I can hear the clink of his belt while he’s growling this at me, and before I can even utter a FUCK YOU, I feel his hands at my ass and he’s lifting me up, carrying me towards the armchair in the corner, lips still frantically trying to taste every bit of me, his tongue tasting every inch of my mouth, and as I’m struggling against him and pounding his chest, I know it’s working, because I can feel that hot, hard length pressing against me, and Goddamn it all to hell, I want it inside me.  Now. Hard. Fuck everything else.

I disentangle myself, blood pounding in my ears, and before I can say or do a thing, he grabs me HARD and forcibly bends me over the chair, while growling at me to lift my ass in the air.  He flips my skirt up, and grabs my hips, and before a coherent thought can enter my mind, I can feel his hard, silky smooth cock slam into me.  The man is blessed down there, it’s just a fact, and usually he knows he has to let me adjust a bit before he really gets going, but now, FUCK THAT.  I don’t want slow, I don’t want tender.  I want him to fuck me till I can’t move, can’t speak, and can’t think.  One hand roughly grabs my hip and jerks it up in the air, trying to open me up as much as he possibly can, while the other one shoves my back down as he yanks himself out, all the way out, and slams back into me balls deep.  It’s a punishing, urgent rhythm and it’s so fucking hot, he’s filling me up, every single time, my ass cheeks wobble with the slaps of his body as he fucks me, hard, fast, over and over and over, pulling out and slamming into me so hard it feels like I might just split in two, my delicate skin stretching, the sting as he enters is the most delicious bite of pain, but so fucking GOOD and I’m arching my back, slamming my hips back to meet his, loving the feeling of his plush, hot cockhead pushing past my slick soaked flesh, practically ripping me open, filling me up and pushing me past the point of no return.

“HARDER”, I gasp, as he slams me into the chair over and over.  “Ahh SHIT! Make it fucking HURT, Teddy!”

CRACK.  My eyes fly open and I have to bite my lip to keep my screaming, as he brings his palm down on my ass cheek, hard, leaving a delicious sting in its wake. I can barely contemplate that he just slapped my ASS, when does it again. I hear the urgent grunts falling from his lips as he fucks me hard, his breaths falling fast from lips, and suddenly his hands are in my hair, I feel his long fingers winding themselves in my long strands, and he yanks my head back HARD, leaving my neck exposed.   “You like it like this??” he grunts, “my cock fucking you till it hurts??”  

I can’t speak for the fiery points of pleasure peaking in my belly, he has my head pulled back and with every slap of his balls against my ass, his hand yanks my hair, HARD, so hard I can’t move my head and why is that SO fucking HOT?

I know I’m close, it hurts SO good, I just need that friction, that little bit to get me where I fucking want to be, and I don’t give a SHIT if it’s him that pushes me over or not but I need that release, I need it NOW.  I begin to slide my hand down, a finger brushing against the little bundle of nerves that I knew would set me off, but he’s having none that.

“NO” he growls.  “You come for ME, yeah?”

Just as quickly his fingers are there, he’s reached around and pressed those perfectly long fingers right up against that tiny pink bundle of nerves, and he’s frantically rubbing it, round and round in messy circles, trying to maintain a rhythm while he’s losing control of himself. His thrusts are becoming sloppier, shorter, and I can hear his breath stuttering, and the string of “fuck…fuck…fucks”that are falling from those sexy, perfectly pink lips tell me how close he is to coming.  

“Come for me” he gasps, “I need to feel you, you’re so fucking tight…Jesus CHRIST…”

His fingers switches from rubbing those messy circles over my clit, to flicking with his fingertip, over and over, fast, hard, back and forth, FUCK, that little bundle of EVERYTHING that has your world on fire right now, and oh, OH JESUS, there is no slow, delicious tightening, not this time, it’s like a fucking roman candle going off, fireworks exploding, I am OVER that cliff Swear to God it’s like white hot fire tearing me apart and every bone in my body is rubber, and my legs are buckling as it rips through me.

“SHIT…” I hear from behind me as he slams his cock into me one last time, and I feel his hands grab my hips in a death grip as he rides out his orgasm, keeping his pelvis flattened against my ass, emptying himself into me in shuddering gasps.  I have NEVER felt him come like that. I can feel his warmth running down my legs, and as I shakily look down, still trying to draw oxygen into my lungs and gather my thoughts, I can see remnants of his release dripping on the floor. I’m a bit transfixed, who would have thought THAT could be so fucking hot?

I can feel his hands unwind from my hair, his semi-soft dick sliding out of me, and he too is trying to catch his breath.  He slides down to the carpeted floor, and to my surprise, reaches for my hand and pulls me down with him, nestling me between his legs and planting a soft kiss on my hair.

“What. The. Ever-loving. FUCK. Was THAT?” I manage to get out, my mind clearing enough to remember what landed us in this situation, in this room, in the first place.

“Jesus….tell me I didn’t hurt you.  I didn’t hurt you did I, Love?” he asks me softly, with true concern etched on his face, as he brushes the hair out of my face and buries his face in my neck.  His beard tickles my neck…I love that.

“I…No?” I could not be more confused right now if I tried.  “That was goddamn mind-blowing, I’ve never seen you like that??  Sure as hell doesn’t explain your SHIT attitude tonight though…”

It’s an odd thing, it’s something I’ve always been aware of, even when I can’t see it, but I can feel his smile against my skin. “You wanted it rough, yeah?  I couldn’t just come outta nowhere and attack you.  It had to fit the situation innit…?”

I am without words.  Is he actually saying he PLANNED this??  I jump up from his lap and spin myself around, ready to throttle him where he sits.  I come face-to-face with a set of crinkled, clear blue eyes and a very nervous, cautious expression on his face.  

“Edward. Christopher. Sheeran.  EXPLAIN YOURSELF”, I manage to get out without cracking my own grin.  

“Well…you were texting with your friend a few days ago…and you left your phone on the bed.  It flashed on the screen and I believe your EXACT words were: He’s such a Teddy Bear…and I love it, but why can’t he be rough once in a while??  A girl needs her hair pulled now and then… Why’s he got to always be so NICE?  So…I figured I’d give it a shot…?” he flashes me a nervous grin and raises and eyebrow, waiting for my response.

“You were NOT supposed to see that…” I mumble, completely mortified. “You’re telling me you’ve been acting like a DICK all day just so you could rile me up and fuck me senseless??”  I’m…stunned? Shocked? Orgasmically sated?  What in the HELL?

“Was a shit day anyway, definitely wasn’t at my best, but… yeah…I played it up a bit.” He says softly. “Don’t kill me, but…seeing you all pissed off like that, it was kinda hot? Wasn’t expecting that?” His face flushed and he bit his lip.  “I knew what would push your buttons, and I just kinda went with it?  Get you going, innit?” he blushes.  

“Thank God.” I sighed.  “The thought of you treating me like that on purpose?  I’ve never known you to treat ANYONE like that, to be purposely selfish or mean, I couldn’t wrap my head around it!  I had no idea I had that sort of temper in me, either. The prick act worked well, Sheeran.  I didn’t know what to think…”  I couldn’t help but shake my head and crack a little smile.  

“Love…’” he whispered softly, “the thought of hurting you intentionally, of making you feel anything less than the most important person in my life, it makes me want to be sick.  You’ve got my heart, every bit of it.  I just wanted to…mix it up.  Have a little fun and give you what it sounded like you wanted?  Maybe I went about it the wrong way…”  He’s watching me warily, gauging my reaction.

I cup his face, and brush my lips against his, first catching his bottom lip, then the top, and finally both. They’re so soft, and he catches my chin and kisses me back, softly and slowly, infusing each touch with tenderness.  I break away and stare him in the eye. “Teddy that might have been the hottest, dirtiest sex I have ever had, and the most intense orgasm I have EVER experienced. I…don’t think I’ve ever wanted to both fuck AND slap the same person at the same time.  It was a very convincing act.  Having said all that?” I raised an eyebrow and looked him in the eye. “Leave the douchebag act at home next time, huh?”

He chuckles, kisses me again and struggles to his feet, helping me up at the same time.  “I am so sorry, Love, at least for the being a right dick part,” he whispers, “Forgive me?”

I look into his baby blue eyes, and really, how can you not forgive that puppy dog face?  Especially considering how fucking HOT the experience was. Bossy Ed…something to keep tucked in my back pocket for sure, because SHIT.

Leaning over, I gently push the tangle of copper curls off his forehead and place a kiss on his brow. “I forgive you, Teddy. That was fucking HOT, and I think I like Bossy Teddy….” I raise an eyebrow. “But not mean Teddy.”

“I love you so much….I hope you know that.” He breathes softly in my ear. “Mean will NEVER happen again. That’s a promise.  The whole Dominant Ed thing, it’s new to me. Not much good at it I guess…” he chuckles nervously.

“Better than you think…I love you too, Silly Boy. Always.”

He catches my lips again and kisses the breath right out me, letting me feel what he can’t put into words.  I do love this boy. SO much.

After making sure my skirt is in place and Ed’s pants are up, we head for the door, but as he reaches for the doorknob, I place my hand over his and lean over to whisper in his ear.

“…Think you left a mark on my ass….hope it won’t be the last time…”  

His mouth drops open and I brush past him, with a swing to my step and a grin on my face.

“Jesus……” he groans as he follows me out the door. “You’re gonna kill me, love.”

*MASTERLIST Here*

[thebattlelost]

Are we really the master of?

I have always said that blood or

DNA does not always mean family

and really is not that much thicker

then water I mean take a damn good

look at me, I am the epitome of a

excommunicated proverbial

black sheep of the family and to

tell the truth I am very honored that

I am thought of that way, and even

Ryder whom I fought an all-out war

over and whom the world knows me

as his father regardless of who his

sperm donor is, so I sit back start to

really wonder are we really the captain

of our own ship? Do we really navigate

through our own time and space?

Are we the true masters of our own

fate? Or is our life already predestined

and no matter what we say or do

it will end up the same anyway,

what do you think is it luck or fate? Or

could it be something else entirely

all together? Then I begin to think

about how we all turn out in life there

are some very good some pretty bad

while others are happy yet some

are sad, then some of us die young and

others live hard and long but all in all,

I do say, does it really matter, because

it is all just a huge gamble just like a

throw of the dice in Las Vegas standing

at the craps table, where I have been many

times in my lifetime, and have always

crapped out but think about it for a few

minutes is it our faults how bad we may

turn out? I mean from the beginning

we are all born to fail, here is what I mean

I or we should say did not have a

choice to the parents from who we are

really born to or even where it may be that

they call home nor do we have a say if

we want to be a boy or a girl well I should

say that we can now choose later in this

day and age or even the color of our skin and

I do not recall the choice of being fat or

skinny or even short or tall the color of our

eyes or hair color and nobody asked us

what city, state, or country that we would

like to be from, the language that you are

taught or the religion that we are raised,

Nope, in fact, nobody asked us anything at

all, I mean there we were floating around in

the warm waters just listening to the soft

voices of our mother and father and the

soothing beat of our mother's heart, sleeping,

eating, and not a worry in our entire little

world then without any kind of warning we

get evicted while being squeezed, pulled,

and pushed out through little place that we

spend the rest of our lives trying to get

back into or keeping guys like me out of

depending on your gender coming out into

the freezing cold and way to the bright world

full of hate, anger then slapped for absolutely

nothing while still trying to take a breath

and learn to breathe, and always starving,

while needing to pee, so we scream as loud

as we can and stare at all of the strange people

and hearing voices we have never heard

speaking in a language that we cannot begin

to understand, but wait, hold on as we hear

a familiar sound trying so hard to open our

tiny eyes feeling a little better all wrapped

up now so warm and tight as we are handed

around the room in a circle like a joint or maybe

something else, hey come on no bogarting me

as the voice we know is getting louder than

finally after what seemed like an eternity we

are placed on her, the one, and look up and

stare right back at mom and try to smile, but

only letting out some gas so the smile gets

even bigger and start to listen again to the

beating of her heart rocking back and forth

feeling just a little bit like the day before

ignoring all the others knowing she is our

mother sucking on her udder and then fall

asleep to dream, and that will be the

easiest time of your life because if we are

extremely lucky you might be born into

money with a silver spoon in your mouth

and everything, but please try to remember

money cannot buy you love, so if not, that

is okay too as long as you have a loving

family so if you're not too happy with how things

are right now try and remember that there

is always someone else who has it worse

then you, like being born into slavery or a

war riddled county or no parents at all, so

basically what it boils down to is this we are

only here on this rock for a very short time

in the grand scheme of all things so just try

to be happy and get along with everyone

and try to remove hate because it will make

your time here that much more miserable you

do not need money to be happy or famous

like an actor or a rockstar just try to inspire at

least three people then they will inspire three

people and when it is over at the very least

you left this place a little better than when

you got here.

Poet Richard M Knittle Jr.

A #Poets Journey

[bluephoenixdruidicprincess]

Shadowhunters Season 2 Episode 15 -- A Problem of Memory -- Review/Discussion

I’m back again with another Shadowhunters review. I feel really bad about being so late on these. I’m not getting a whole lot of inspiration with these episodes lately. But oh well. This time we have Shadowhunters Season 2 Episode 15 – A Problem of Memory. I found myself very satisfied with this episode. By no means would I say that I liked it. But I was satisfied with it.

This is going to be an honest review of my thoughts and feelings regarding this episode. If you’re the kind of Shadowhunters fan where you only want to hear positive things about the show, this is not the place for you. If you decide to stick around and get offended by what is said, then that’s on you. I warned you. Just know that if you send me any rude comments or messages, I will 100% ignore you. I find that’s the best way to deal with bullies. I work 14 hour days. Do you really think I want to waste my incredibly valuable free time dealing with derogatory comments? Hell no. This review will consist of my honest opinions. Opinions are never right or wrong. I’m not telling you how to think and feel. So please, let’s discuss with dignity and respect. If I’m critical about the show, it’s only because I want it to get better. There is, in fact, a difference between hating a show and being critical of it. I do not hate Shadowhunters; I am being critical and analyzing the flaws as I would with any other show. There are positives but there are also negatives. It’s great if you want to promote positivity with this show (and I encourage you to do so) but that doesn’t mean you should acknowledge the things that are legitimately wrong with it. Also, keep in mind that despite the fact that I do love the books, me being critical of this show has nothing to do with my love of the books. I don’t really care if the show deviates from the source material as long as it’s good and it makes sense. My problems with this show are problems that I would have with any show or book for that matter. I think it’s perfectly reasonable to take issue with a show that has plot holes, shoddy world-building and inconsistent characters. There will be spoilers for the books and movies.

Alright, so ultimately, I was pretty satisfied with this episode. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I liked it but it was moderately entertaining. There were stretches within the episode where I was legitimately bored, though. I watched this episode on Tuesday after it aired, which was my birthday, and I was far more interested in the game of Scrabble I was playing with my friends. I play a mean Scrabble, btw. Obviously, I didn’t feel too strongly about this episode considering how late I am in writing this. I feel like this has been happening a lot with 2B. The episodes have been leaving me with a general feeling of apathy. The episodes are satisfying but they’re also not dragging me into the story which is a very disconcerting feeling for me. Supernatural/fantasy type shows are my catnip. I typically love these kinds of shows and I want them to last for a good amount of time. I am sad that The Vampire Diaries has finished. I am sad that we’re almost done with Teen Wolf. The Originals is always one foot away from the chopping block (although I am hoping it sticks around for a little while longer so that Klaroline has a chance to grace my screen again). Pretty soon, I’m not going to have that many more fantasy type shows for me to cling on to. I guess we’ll always have Supernatural, though that is one fantasy show I wish would end. It has gone on for far too long in my opinion.

More Love Triangle BS

So we got the love triangle stuff with Jace/Clary/Simon still going on. This was kind of where my boredom was starting to surface within this episode. I don’t think there’s a word in the English vocabulary that epitomizes how much I don’t care about this love triangle. I barely tolerated it in the books and in the show, it’s completely insufferable. The only saving grace this plot point has is that it’s finally going to push Simon into some plot arcs that don’t center around Clary for once. At least I hope so. Simon, throughout his character arc, has always been following Clary’s plots around like a lost puppy and I’m interested in seeing where the story is going to take him now. Speaking of which, I got a little excited in this episode when Simon finally blows up at Clary. That was great. I think I enjoy it a little too much whenever people do yell at Clary. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, I get super happy. It’s like a drug for me. And I’m sorry to you Show Clary fans who adore her but I cannot stand her. Any scene that she’s in, I want to skip past. I just do not care about her at all. Which really shouldn’t be happening with a main character but what can you do? And I actually recently had an epiphany on why I don’t really like Clary. And it’s not for any of the shallow reasons that some people dislike about her i.e. her always needing to be saved. It’s nothing like that. I’m actually in the process of writing a post about my dislike of her character in the show. So if you follow me, you’ll have that to look forward to. But anyways, I’m not a fan on how the show is doing this love triangle. I think it was a mistake to portray Climon as this great epic love. By the show doing this, they wrote themselves into a corner because now there’s really no way to finish out this love triangle story without it turning into a cliché teenage melodrama. I was a fan of Simon in this episode. He treated Clary exactly how I wanted him to. Clary is being her typical selfish self by blaming everyone but herself. I have no sympathy for her. I did see this one post where the blogger had talked about Simon being overly dramatic and that he doesn’t really have a right to be angry with Clary. Clary didn’t ask for Simon to be in love with her and all that jazz. Now, that kind of talk I would find acceptable with Book Clary and Simon. Book Clary was fairly obvious about her feelings being different from the feelings Simon had. However, this argument doesn’t work as well in the show. Because Clary had given no indication whatsoever that she wasn’t all in for Simon. In fact, she was telling Simon the exact opposite. Jace revealed they weren’t really siblings and she straight up didn’t care. She even reassured Simon that she wanted to be with him (Simon). That is straight up leading him on even if it may have been slightly unintentional. But anyways, Clary was trying her hardest to get Simon to take her back and forget what all had happened but Simon’s not having it. I don’t know why she thought that would work. Clary is trying so hard to preserve this relationship but she’s not stopping to think and ask, “What does Simon want? What does Simon deserve?” He deserves to be with someone who loves him as much as he once loved Clary. I really like what Simon says to Clary when Clary tells him she loves him. “Stop! Don’t say that because you don’t mean it like I mean it.” I’m glad that Simon is showing Clary that she needs to hold herself accountable for her actions (something she never does in the show) and that not everything can be so easily forgiven. I’m glad the show is finally starting to do this with Clary’s character. One of my biggest gripes with the show is how willing the show is to forgive Clary for everything and no one ever holds her accountable for anything. I hope the show tries to do more with that.

Simon had his own plot arc going on in this episode which I kind of enjoyed. I did have a couple of issues with it, though. First issue was that it’s such a predictable plot. I can’t tell you how many shows I’ve seen where I’ve seen this plot point used. Never for a second did I actually believe Simon killed that girl. Why was I so sure? Because despite Freeform’s best efforts in making this show “edgy and racy,” they can’t help but to play it safe. Freeform is too afraid to go into something really dark like actually having Simon accidentally kill someone while he was under this blood-induced euphoric state. I think that would’ve been a really interesting direction to take his character. It would’ve been interesting to see how he dealt with that issue. I really wanted them to do it but ultimately, they fell back on bad habits. I know, Simon killed that vampire who framed him but that’s hardly the same thing. The emotional response we could’ve gotten from Simon would’ve been so much stronger if he had accidentally killed an innocent girl who put her trust in his ability to control himself as opposed to killing someone out of self defense. Disappointing but what can you do? I could write a book on all of the missed potential this show had with its plot arcs. I am a little upset that the show seems to be kind of writing off Izzy’s addiction too. They’re just saying she’s going to meetings to help with her addiction issues but we haven’t seen anything that shows she’s really struggling or anything that shows where she’s currently at in the recovery process. Which brings me to my second issue. When the vampire brings Simon to that club to feed on willing humans, I had a hard time believing that Simon would actually want to do this. Particularly since he knows about Izzy. It probably would have worked better if Simon hadn't known about Izzy’s problem and was just finding out that it’s possible for people to become addicted to vampire venom. But the fact that he knew about Izzy’s struggles and yet he was so willing to give this a try didn’t really sit well with me. I guess he was already intoxicated from that plasma shot he had maybe. I don’t know. It also confused me on why he didn’t realize that these kinds of dens may exist after Izzy confessed to him that she’s addicted to vampire venom. Did he never question where she was getting her fix? Obviously, she never went to one of these dens but Simon doesn’t know about her relationship with Raphael. And on the other side of things in 2A, why did Izzy risk being killed by Blondie Vamp when she could’ve easily gone to one of these dens? Ugh, so many plot holes once you start actually thinking.

But ultimately, I could get behind this plot point because it’s finally showing Simon trying to find his own way in the Shadow World instead of clinging on to Clary. It’s about him trying to figure out who he is and where he belongs in the Shadow World. He has ties to the mundane world, the shadowhunter world, and the downworld but yet doesn’t fit in completely with any of them. I’m really excited to see where this story is going to take him. This plot definitely had its flaws but the idea of the plot is what sold it for me. But that’s Shadowhunters for you. They always have really great ideas; it’s the execution that’s the problem.

Luke’s partner was also featured pretty heavily in this plot point too and I wish they would just drop this character. I don’t know what’s going on with her and what part she’s actually going to play but she’s completely unnecessary. This show has waaaaaaaaay more characters than they know what to do with. I really hope this show gets to the point of her as a character soon because she absolutely bores me whenever she’s on screen.

Aline Is Here

Aline has also made her debut into the tv show. I’ll be honest. In the books, I never really understood the fandom’s fondness for Aline. She’s not a bad character or anything. I don’t hate her, I just don’t care about her. We don’t spend a whole lot of time with her in the books and she never left me with any sort of impression. She was there and she and Helen are kind of cute, I guess, but again the books never spent a lot of time with developing Aline and Helen. So when people were badgering the showrunners about when Aline is going to show up, I really didn’t care. She showed up in this episode and I liked her scenes but ultimately, I still didn’t really care. I’m interested to see her in future episodes. The dynamic that she appears to have with the real Sebastian Verlac was nice to see. I’m definitely interested to see how Helen is going to pop up in this show and what the show does with her and Aline. Aline and Izzy also had a really nice relationship. I was beginning to wonder if Izzy was friends with anyone besides Clary. She doesn’t seem to socialize with any of the other shadowhunters at the Institute. Seriously, did Izzy have any friends before Clary showed up? But I’m always happy to see positive female relationships. I know this fandom has a pretty big Romantic Clizzy fanbase but I hope the show doesn’t go there. And before anyone jumps down my throat, no, it’s not because I’m bigoted and I don’t want to see a lesbian couple. Obviously, I don’t feel that way since Malec is one of my ultimate OTPs. TV these days really needs more supportive female friendships and that’s what I like about Clizzy. That’s what I liked about Aline and Izzy. And I want to see the show continuing on with that. Not all chemistry is romantic, guys. Sometimes there’s chemistry that works better as friends. And not all chemistry should be romantic.

We also had Will Tudor being his usual awesome self. This time he was playing both the real Sebastian and Jonathon. The talent this guy has, he has far too much talent for this show. Every scene he’s in, he outshines everyone else. Which is what makes the reveal at the end of the episode a little saddening. Jonathon finds a way to spring Valentine from the Clave and when Valentine is brought before him, Jonathon reveals his true self a la shapeshifting rune – a burnt, walking talking corpse, apparently. I really hate that rune. When I saw that reveal at the end of the episode, though, I burst out laughing. I think the last time I laughed so hard in this show was back in 2A when Jocelyn showed Clary the vision of Jonathon as the demon child where he made a flower wilt. I laughed pretty hard in that scene and laughed a lot in this scene. It’s just such a Disney thing to do. Of course, the villain would turn out to be this burned corpse because you can’t be attractive and evil at the same time. I can’t say I’m surprised though. Freeform is owned by Disney. Again, like I said before, it’s a very safe way to go about the series. Now, before anyone tries to claw my eyes out or anything, my problems with the reveal have ABSOLUTELY nothing to do with the fact that this is different from the books. That’s not my issue. I just think Jonathon being this attractive character but gets so progressively evil that his soul kind of warps into that of a demon’s is a much more interesting theme to explore than having him be this burnt up corpse. There is evil in beauty. That and it means Will Tudor as Jonathan has a time limit which is sad. He’s so fantastic as an actor that I literally could watch a 40 minute episode of Shadowhunters with it just being Jonathon formulating his evil plans. I’m sure Shadowhunters has a plan on where they’re going to go with this burnt corpse idea. I just hope it’s not going to be cliché Disney villain plot point. I’m sure this plot point was also taken so they could better explain why no one is noticing that Sebastian Verlac is not the real Sebastian Verlac. The Season 1 writers really wrote themselves into a corner when they made shadowhunters compatible with technology. The current writers really had no choice but to use the rune in this instance.

Malec This Episode

So Malec was pretty great this episode. We actually got scenes that lasted for more than thirty seconds this time around. Alec can tell that something is wrong with Magnus but Magnus is refusing to open up to Alec. Magnus is having problems dealing with his mother’s death and the repercussions of this death but he’s refusing to open up to Alec about this until Alec finally convinces him to talk about it. An excellent use of throwing Magnus’ words back at him. Magnus once told Alec that when things get tough, to not push him away. And here, Alec tells him the same thing. I was glad to hear it. Magnus comes clean that when he was tortured with the “agony” rune (I still can’t say that with a straight face – it makes no sense for why such a rune would exist) he was forced to relive the memory of him finding his mother after she committed suicide and his father lashing out at Magnus about it. Magnus uses his magic to kill his stepfather and admits to Alec that he had full control of his powers back then; he wanted to kill his stepfather. Magnus tells Alec that he wanted to keep this from Alec because he didn’t want Alec so see this “ugly” side of him. In which Alec responds with understanding. “There’s nothing ugly about you.” Alec accepts him for exactly how he is. He doesn’t have any kind of romaticization about Magnus. He intends to find out about the darker parts of Magnus. He doesn’t just want to be with the light parts. It was a really great moment for Malec.

Now, I am a little torn on how I feel about the show changing Magnus’ past with his mother and stepfather. But after going back and forth on it, I don’t think my problem is that I liked the story in the book better  as much as that I felt the show could’ve spent a little more time on this flashback. We didn’t get to see a whole lot of Magnus’s stepfather and we certainly didn’t get to see what exactly the man was saying to Magnus. The tone wasn’t really working.  In this instance, tone is everything and I don’t think the show got the tone right. The flashback could’ve been really great but the show did the bare minimum and in doing so, messed up the tone a little. Now, I have heard people say that they think the scene in the books is a little overdramatic in the sense that Magnus’ mother hangs herself out of shame in finding out she had laid with a demon and the stepfather trying to drown Magnus. I disagree on that assessment. Magnus was born in a time where if you were different, you were seen as evil. Anything that was different was seen as the devil’s work. So it would make sense that Magnus’ mother killing herself over finding out what her son was and his stepfather trying to drown him makes sense in context. I am a little sad the show didn’t go with this story but I understand the story the show is trying to tell. It works in its own way. The story in the books wouldn’t have worked as well with the theme they were trying to implement here. Like I said, it works, I just wish we had gotten a little more in the development of this flashback.

I also saw a few posts where a blogger was talking about how rigid Alec looks in the Malec scenes. That he doesn’t really look comfortable. He very much had a military like stance when dealing with Magnus in this episode. I think this was more of an acting decision. For me, Alec is feeling insecure about their relationship. Magnus is refusing to open up and it’s making Alec a little uncomfortable. So I was fine with the rigidity he might’ve been having these past couple of episodes. It makes sense based on what Alec is feeling.

I would probably give this episode a B. I definitely felt it was better than the previous ones. As always, there are still things the show can improve on. For one, executing their ideas better. As I’ve said many times, the writers have a lot of good ideas, the execution is what makes them fall a little weird sometimes. I also can’t help but feel like the writers may be writing with their dominant hand being tied behind their back. I mentioned it earlier in this review but I’ve been starting to realize that the writing in this show has been very “safe.” The show scaled back on the incest plot because it was controversial. We’re never really sure what the show is trying to do with Malec as a couple because the show doesn’t feel comfortable with how much they can get away with in that relationship. They went for the obvious plot point of Simon being framed for a murder instead of going dark and having Simon kill someone while in his drugged state. They’re certainly scaling back on seeing us watch Izzy with her recovery probably because that’s controversial as well. In the 2A finale, they had all of the main downworlders in one spot but yet none of them were harmed by what happened in the finale. They all conveniently were able to escape from the massacre. They did kill Jocelyn but Jocelyn was also a character a majority of the fanbase didn’t care about so her death was an “eh, whatever” thing. One of these days, I would really like to see the show just go for it. They’re trying to be dark and racy but at the same time they’re still afraid to. They don’t know how much they can get away with and I look forward to the day when they throw caution to the wind and just go all out. We don’t live in a pretty world and the shadow world certainly is not a pretty world to live in. It is dangerous, these people lead dangerous lives and it would be nice to see just how cruel and unforgiving this world can get.

That’s about all I have for you guys. Again, sorry I’m late. But better late than never. I’d love to hear your thoughts on the show. Did you love it? Did you hate it? Do you agree or disagree? As always, be respectful of mine and everyone else’s opinions.

[ellenembee]

The Revelation of All Things - 41. In which outcasts gotta stick together

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The reveal of Grand Duchess Florianne's murderous intent had been nothing compared to the astonished whispers at the emergence of the Empress, the Inquisitor and the elven ambassador, Briala, from the tete-a-tete between the powers. Duke Gaspard had been exiled for treason based on all the incriminating evidence they'd found skulking through the Winter Palace, but despite all the things they'd discovered about the ambassador, Briala was now at the Empress' side.

Dorian snickered behind his glass of wine. The Inquisitor was playing matchmaker, eh? During their exploration of the Royal Wing, they'd found Briala's locket among Celene's personal effects, and Evana must have used that information to bring the two women back together. She’d placed Celene safely in power, but with Briala as Marquise of the Dales, the elves would also have a chance at raising themselves to a more equal status. He had to hand it to the Inquisitor. She might hate the Game, but she seemed to play quite well.

Grabbing another bottle of a fine vintage, Dorian found a dark, secluded corner of a balcony and made himself comfortable. Compared to a Tevinter party, the night had only just begun, but Dorian had already tired of the unending parade of snide remarks and gallingly rude questions. And with the revelation of Florianne's Tevinter agents murdering people in the palace, his reception had gone from mildly chilly to downright frigid. It seemed better to beat a hasty retreat… with a glass and some fine wine, of course.

Leaning against the cool stone wall, he sipped his wine under the comforting shroud of darkness and stared into the night sky. He allowed his thoughts to wander as the wine warmed his limbs and the merry lights across the palace took on a pleasant haze of intoxication.

The scuffle of dragging feet drew his attention, and he turned to watch the Inquisitor walk slowly across the balcony to lean heavily on the railing. He made to emerge from the shadows when he saw Morrigan had wandered out onto the balcony as well. If he'd cared about propriety and social convention, he might have revealed himself, but as it was... well, he'd rather hear what the mage had to say. He'd let Evana know he'd overheard later.

"The Orlesian nobility make drunken toasts to your victory, and yet you are not present to hear them? Do you tire so quickly of their congratulations, Inquisitor? 'Tis most fickle, after all your efforts on their behalf."

"I would have stayed,” Evana deadpanned, “but the punch ran dry. Scandalous."

Dorian nearly spit wine in astonishment even as his chest swelled with pride. She never would've said that sort of thing out loud before he and Varric got a hold of her.

But Morrigan was speaking again. Dorian strained to hear their soft voices above the music floating out of the ballroom.

"Indeed? Let us see if you take this piece of news as poorly. By Imperial decree, I have been named liaison to the Inquisition. Celene wishes to offer you any and all aid - including mine. Congratulations."

Evana did not answer immediately, and Dorian rearranged himself to get a better view of the two mages. Finally, the weary elf leaned her hip against the banister and cross her arms - her defensive posture.

"I had no idea you were interested in joining the Inquisition."

Morrigan shrugged. "The assignment has been given to me, regardless of my personal interest. Celene knows you face an opponent who wields great magical power, which is far more important than her own curiosity. You will require my knowledge if you are to defeat such magic. Corypheus is a threat to Orlais... and to myself. Thus, I am not opposed to the appointment."

Evana's stance relaxed a bit, but she still exuded wariness. "You mentioned knowledge. What skills do you have that would benefit the Inquisition?"

"I have knowledge which falls... beyond the realm of most mages. I suspect this is also true of Corypheus. Thus it behooves you to add to your arcane arsenal, yes? Mundane knowledge will not bring the rift in the sky to close, after all."

Evana tensed. And Dorian understood why. The Inquisitor's tone took on an acerbic edge.

"So, when you say 'knowledge beyond the realm of most mages,' do you mean blood magic?"

Clearly Evana had tired of the game. She was back to her lovely self - with a large dose of new-found confidence, it seemed. The tentative, withdrawn elf he'd first met in Redcliffe had been replaced by a cool, confident leader. He couldn't be more proud. Morrigan, unaware of the transformation, took it all in stride.

"I know many obscure, forgotten, and forbidden arts. Some of it you might consider blood magic, yes. Should thought of that frighten you, allow me to offer reassurance. Knowledge alone does no harm. What I possess, I place at your disposal to make use of or ignore as you desire."

Evana relaxed once more, this time allowing her arms to drop. "You did help me earlier. I'm sorry if I seem suspicious. This place is enough to make anyone paranoid... Welcome to the Inquisition, Morrigan."

"A most gracious response," Morrigan responded with a tilt of her head. "I shall meet you at Skyhold."

Dorian shrunk back behind a pillar by the doorway as Morrigan passed through. When he relaxed once more, he found Evana leaning on the balcony railing, both hands placed flat on the wide stone. The weight of the evening, indeed of the last few months, seemed to press upon her in this unguarded moment. Her head drooped and shoulders slumped, and Dorian's heart went out to her. As different as they were - and as much as he would never dream of saying it aloud - her consistent and solid support had meant the world to him in Redcliffe. He owed her at least an attempt to cheer her up.

Dorian quietly collected his wine bottle and prepared to step out of the shadows once again but stopped when he saw that the Commander had beaten him to it. Well, that settled things. He certainly wasn't leaving now. Not when it would be much more fun to eavesdrop on the awkwardly adorable lovers. Cullen would make her feel better, and Dorian would get a little entertainment for his troubles tonight. Win, win.

"There you are. Everyone's been looking for you. Things have calmed down for the moment..."

Cullen approached the railing and stood next to her. At his words, she leaned down further so her elbows rested on the wide stone, hands hanging listlessly off the edge. Cullen did the same.

"Are you alright?" he asked in a low, concerned tone.

So adorable, I think I might be sick.

"I'm just worn out," she sighed. "Tonight has been... very long."

Although they faced away from him, Dorian could imagine the rueful half smile on Cullen's face as he responded. "For all of us. I'm glad it's over."

Cullen paused, but only for a moment. Lifting his hand to rest lightly her shoulder, he lowered his voice, and Dorian had to strain to hear him speak.

"I know it's foolish - you are more than capable of taking care of yourself - but I was worried for you tonight."

She lifted her hand to cover his for just a moment before letting her hand drop. Cullen backed away from the railing. For a split second, Dorian thought he might have to intervene. What was the lummox doing, leaving so soon? She clearly wasn't feeling... oh...

"I may never have another chance like this, so... I must ask." Cullen stepped back and bowed before Evana, extending his hand. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

A-dor-a-ble!

The smile that spread across the pretty elf's face nearly caused Dorian to laugh out loud. This was simply too much. Her voice epitomized that of a pleased lover as she turned and placed her hand in his.

"Of course. But I thought you didn't dance?"

Cullen chuckled as he closed his hand around hers and pulled her to him. "For you. I'll try."

The two spun about the balcony for several minutes simply staring into each other's eyes before settling down into a much slower pace. The elf's grace couldn't entirely overcome Cullen's ineptitude at dancing, but it merely added to their poetry - him all muscle and brute force and her a lithe but deadly beauty. Dorian decided that if he were ever to write poetry, they would be the perfect muse.

Eventually, they moved further away from the doors and deeper into the dim corner of the balcony. Evana circled her arms around Cullen's waist and rested her head on his chest. He slipped his arms around her, his hands clasped and resting on the small of her back and his cheek on the crown of her head. Dorian continued to quietly drink his wine, his mirth slowly dissolving into a strange kind of tranquility. Despite the overwhelming sweetness of it all - something Dorian would normally find laughable and in which he would certainly find a wealth of ammunition for his own special brand of sarcasm - it was actually quite relaxing to watch them. He hadn't realized how comfortable the two had become with each other. They might actually make it out of this mess together.

A strange mixture of emotions poured into his chest - a little bit of jealousy, a larger portion of happiness for his friends and a few vague, unnamable emotions swirling around in the depths. He'd never had a true relationship. Not like what he was witnessing right now. In Tevinter, his preferences were considered shameful, and if one decided to indulge them, one certainly didn't try to have a relationship after. It was sex. Period. Dorian thought he'd been happy with that. But these two - these seeming opposites who were inexplicably well-suited for each other - stirred in him a desire for more. What might it be like to have a true partner by his side? Someone to love him and support him?

His mind lingered briefly on his recent, strange interactions with a certain Qunari companion. The attention, though often vulgar, certainly satisfied a perverse desire inside him to be admired by everyone. Such admiration rarely came his way here in the south - at least not after his origins became known. He harbored no shame about being from Tevinter, but his self-importance certainly took a hit from the cold shoulders and narrowed glances, as if people expected demons to sprout up from the ground behind him wherever he walked. Perhaps that explained why Bull’s words simultaneously embarrassed and pleased him.

Not that he believed anything could come of it. Even a purely physical relationship would be dangerous considering Bull only pretended to be Tal-Vashoth. Contemplating more would be insanity - how could a person ever trust someone who followed the Qun?

And, impossible as it may seem, I’ve had too much wine if am I thinking about that filthy, giant, walking wall of muscle as a potential partner.

The sound of Cullen’s voice murmuring something in Evana’s ear interrupted Dorian’s downward spiral. He leaned forward, trying to hear them. Evana replied, but he only caught the last half.

"-just as guilty as the other, but with Gaspard exiled and Briala at her side, Celene has a chance to really unify Orlais. And... and elves have a chance to improve their standing in society with Briala as the first elven noblewoman. I know you were hoping for Gaspard, but…"

Cullen shook his head. "As long as Orlais remains at peace and we have their full support in our fight against Corypheus, I am satisfied. Gaspard is the right choice for war, but I understand Josephine's argument. How would he lead at the end of this war? I think we could have brokered peace, but Gaspard certainly would have required more work in the long run."

"I'm glad you're not upset... I... I was worried you might be."

Cullen smiled and pressed his lips her temple. "Please trust me that I trust you. And I'm not going to be upset if you don't follow my advice to the letter. As our first encounter with your clan taught us, I don't always give the best advice." He paused as she laughed lightly and then pulled back to look her in the eye as he continued. "Nor do I think my way is the only way. There are usually multiple paths to a desired end. I can give you one path, but that's why we also have Josephine and Leliana. They provide other paths, other choices. I know you'd never do anything that you thought would harm anyone. As long as it gets the job done, just point me in the right direction, Inquisitor."

"Hmmm... Such wisdom - and such trust, Commander. I think you might be my favorite advisor. Don't tell Josie or Leliana."

Cullen smiled again and briefly leaned down to touch his forehead to hers. His voice was quiet, but they were closer to Dorian now, and he just made out, "I wouldn't dream of it."

After a brief pause as they continued to circle the balcony, Evana spoke up in a jovial, teasing tone. "I'm glad I was finally able to steal you away from your admirers."

Dorian stifled a chuckle at Cullen's long-suffering groan. The man was clearly not used to being oogled.

"In the name of all that is holy,” he began in a harsh tone, “if I never see another noble, it will be too soon! I even explicitly told them I was..." He cleared his throat before continuing. "... That I was taken, but it seemed to make no difference."

Evana's teasing took on a tinge of sympathy. "Was it that awful?"

"I know I shouldn't complain when you all were out there risking your lives,” he admitted through a heavy sigh, “but... Maker's breath! I don't know how many times I was manhandled by those ravenous beasts."

"They actually touched you?" Dorian perked up at the dangerous tone in Evana's voice. Jealousy rearing its ugly head?

"One of them grabbed my bottom for sure."

"Which one?” she asked, playing at pulling away from him to go find the person who’d accosted him. “I could immolate them right now. Celene would surely look the other way after all I've done for her tonight."

Cullen laughed quietly as he pulled her back and hugged her tighter against him. "That won't be necessary, but I do appreciate the sentiment."

They were barely moving anymore, just swaying back and forth in time to the music. Dorian smirked. Unless they want the entire Orlesian court to know they're an item, they ought to separate... and soon. As soon as the Commander's back was to the door, effectively blocking both their views, Dorian stealthily moved away from his hiding place and to the door. He immediately turned back around and, raising his glass and bottle, proceeded to scare them both into maintaining a more appropriate distance.

"Why hello! Aren't you two just adorable? How long have you been out here staring dreamily into each other's eyes?"

Cullen gave him a half embarrassed, half irritated glance. "Good evening - or rather, good morning, Dorian. Having a bit of wine to celebrate our victory?"

Dorian snorted. It wasn't fashionable, but he realized he was actually a little bit drunk. No wonder his thoughts had run away with him earlier. He swirled the small bit of wine still coating the bottom of the bottle as he spoke.

"If by 'a bit,' you mean two bottles in, then yes. Don't worry, though. I've got a high tolerance. And I imagine we'll be leaving soon anyway."

Walking up to them, Dorian bowed and held his hand out to Evana. "Which means I need a dance from you, my dear. You need to be seen dancing with someone other than a murdering Grand Duchess and your Commander, otherwise, tongues might start wagging... unless you are happy to let your little love affair become the gossip of Orlais?"

They both sighed and looked at each other. "I should check in with Josephine and Leliana," Cullen reluctantly admitted with a huff.

Cullen stepped away from Evana, bowed and gave her a particular look before leaving them to the balcony. Evana sighed and wistfully looked after Cullen as Dorian began twirling her around the balcony. After all their practice sessions, they fit together quite well. A dancing mage duo for the ages.

"Oh, don’t worry, he'll be alright now,” Dorian assured her. “I've got Cassandra on duty."

Evana looked at him, nonplussed. "You what?"

"I told Cassandra to be his bodyguard for the rest of the ball. Based on her glower, I thought she might start throwing punches at nobles if left to her own devices."

Evana let out an amused puff of air through her nose and smiled. "I'm sure Cullen will be grateful. Cole was even worried about him tonight - said the fat heads were 'hunting' him."

"Well, he is quite a delectable hunk of man,” Dorian agreed with a laugh. “You've caught yourself quite the specimen."

She smiled shyly. "I know. And I owe it all to you."

"To me?" Dorian asked in genuine surprise. "But it was Cole who gave you that tiny insight into Cullen's brain. Tell me honestly, if Cole hadn't 'helped' as he likes to call it, would you ever have spoken to Cullen?"

Evana looked away. Contrary to his natural inclination, he didn’t pressure her for an answer. He merely led her through a few more rounds. Finally, she shrugged.

"I honestly don't know. I'd like to think we would have gotten there eventually. It was more about... well... I guess I couldn't even admit it to myself, but it was more about me truly and irrevocably giving up my clan than anything else."

Dorian stopped abruptly, and Evana nearly tumbled to the ground.

"Creators, Dorian! What-"

"What do you mean, giving up your clan?"

Evana sighed and tried to let go of Dorian. He held her firmly in place as she looked down and then to the side. Anywhere but at him.

"Didn't you know?" she finally answered dryly - only the faint tremor in her voice betrayed her emotions. "I'm surprised with all your research that you haven't come across that little tidbit, yet. Elves who choose to be with humans are disowned by their clans. It's one of the few things all Dalish can agree on."

He could only stare at her. "Does... Cullen know?"

"N-not explicitly... but he asked a question last night that brought it to mind. Based on what I told him, I'm sure he'll reach that conclusion soon, if he hasn't already."

"Are you having second thoughts?" Evana finally turned to look at him, shock written all over her face. "Wha- no! I wouldn't trade what I have with him - with you all - for anything. I never would have admitted my feelings to him if I weren’t serious about... well, us, I guess. It's just... there's a certain amount of guilt that comes with turning your back on everything you've ever known. I don't want Cullen to have to deal with that. He's got enough on his shoulders."

Dorian gave her a sardonic grin and started them moving again. "I certainly have no idea what you're talking about. None at all."

Evana nodded gave him and sympathetic smile. "Exactly. It's one of the reasons... one reason I feel more comfortable talking to you about this. But I suppose we're all misfits in our own way here in the Inquisition." She squeezed his arm as she spoke. "It's been easier the longer I'm away. I always had a fairly academic understanding of the Elvhen pantheon, but when I began studying Elvhen lore during my apprenticeship, my tenuous faith in the pantheon as true gods pretty much faded away. Discussions with Solas since joining the Inquisition have only strengthened that feeling."

"A crisis of faith more than a crisis of family, then?"

"For the Dalish, I'm not sure there's a distinction between the two. Our religion is our culture. It is who we are. To deny the Elvhen gods and defy the necessity for pure Elvhen bloodlines are one and the same in their eyes."

Dorian couldn't think of anything more to say. He’d already emptied his wine bottle, or he'd have had a drink. Evana stopped their dance and pulled at his hand as she moved toward the door.

"Come on. Let's go see if the others are ready to get out of here. I feel a bit like a walking corpse."

"Evana..."

He hesitated, unsure of what to say, but her face as she looked back at him over her shoulder - a sort of goofy, accepting expression – caused him to simply smile at her. What could he say that they hadn't already?

"Very well,” he finally relented. “I think they're out of the good wine anyway."

Evana squeezed his hand. "That's the spirit!"

She dragged him into the ballroom, and shortly thereafter, they were on their way back to the inn. Dorian smirked at Cullen as Evana slid into the seat beside the commander and promptly fell asleep while leaning against his arm. Cullen gently reached around her to pull her against him more firmly and then firmly avoided Dorian’s gaze by looking out the darkened window.

A small, rather wistful sigh from his left drew Dorian’s attention to his seatmate, Cassandra. Even in the dim moonlight, Dorian could see the tender expression on the stoic warrior’s face as she gazed at the scene opposite them. She seemed to sense him watching her and suddenly slouched into her seat with a huff. Dorian couldn’t hold back his low chuckle.

As the wheels clicked over cobblestone roads, he found himself wondering at Evana’s sudden admission to him about her clan. Although, after all that had happened during the course of the evening, he supposed she had good reason to be thinking of her clan. He'd heard the slurs against Evana tonight - likely even more than she'd heard herself. He'd grown up with elves as slaves, so he was barely any better than the Orlesian pigs who spoke of their Inquisitor as if she were chattel or a plaything for their amusement. It was easy to ignore the suffering of others when you never had to experience the hardship yourself.

However, being here, where Southerners eyed "'Vints" with distrust and disdain, had opened his eyes to his own hypocrisy. The whispered insults and thinly veiled jabs still clung to him like a bad odor. It wasn't nearly enough to make him want to go back to Tevinter, but like her, an evening such as this could only end in a fleeting nostalgia for the life he'd left behind, a weariness of the prejudices that left him forever in the fringes. In a rare fit of honest reflection, he admitted to himself that he carried a certain amount of undue disdain for Southerners. However, he could also admit that he’d found good and reasonable people amongst the supposed barbarians of the South. His growing friendship with Cullen was testament to that.

The carriage jolted to a stop in front of the inn, and Dorian helped Cullen guide the tired elf up to her room. Before even unlocking her door, Evana turned, slid her hands around Dorian's waist and squeezed him hard.

"Thank you for everything tonight,” she mumbled into his chest. “I know it probably wasn't fun being around all those rude people. Just know that I appreciate you."

Dorian smiled, wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed the elf on the top on the head. She must have overheard a few things about him, too. After a moment, he loosened his grasp.

"Now, now. That's enough seriousness for one night. To bed with you, heathen."

Cullen had stepped back for their exchange, but now he moved forward. To Dorian's surprise, Cullen leaned down to kiss her. It was quick - not at all like the kiss Dorian had accidentally witnessed before they left for the Western Approach - but it surprised him. Dorian had never thought the private and stoic Commander of the Inquisition would ever kiss a woman in front of an audience, even an audience of one. Perhaps they were both just that comfortable around him? The thought gave him an odd feeling in his chest, but he decided not to parse it further - not right now.

She smiled up at Cullen. "Goodnight, vhenan."

"Sleep well, Evana."

Evana turned, unlocked her door and then waved shyly at them both before closing the door behind her. Dorian gave Cullen a sidelong glance.

"You know, you don't have to keep up appearances for me."

Cullen had started to turn away, but he stopped to face Dorian now, a confused look on his face. "I'm not sure I-"

"I won't tell anyone if you just join her now instead of later."

"W-wha-?" Cullen stuttered as he rubbed the back of his neck and blushed furiously. "Oh... I... um... we don't..."

It was Dorian's turned to be confused. "I'm sorry. I had thought you two were together. At least, that's what slow dancing on deserted balconies and kissing on battlements, outside stables and in the middle of a hallway says to me."

"Uh... no... I mean, yes, we are together, but..." He sighed and dropped his hand. "We're... taking things slowly, and I'd rather not discuss it further than that."

Dorian quirked an eyebrow. For a moment, he debated needling the man further, but the Commander had likely already been pushed to his limits tonight. He affected a nonchalant expression and waved a dismissive gesture at the other man.

"As you wish. Sleep well."

"Goodnight, Dorian."

Dorian turned and headed for his own room, brows pulling together in consternation. They weren't sleeping together? As he walked down the hall to his own room, Dorian tried to comprehend the reasons for such a thing, but he simply couldn't. They were obviously in love. If one were given to theatrics - which of course he was - one might even say they were meant for each other. Perhaps he'd had too much wine or was just too tired to process things properly. It would require a more thorough investigation, and if Cullen wouldn't talk about it, he'd have to come at it from the other direction. At least now he knew why Evana had refused to talk about Cullen's finer points during their trip. She didn't know any more about them than Dorian did.

Dorian unlocked his door, stripped down and flopped into bed. He'd think on it more tomorrow.

[dreville]

You are not alone

This is for the March trope challenge issued by the @hprarepairnet​ and the @slytherdornet. The pairing is Draco and Neville, the trope is Care Bear Stare (although it is more appropriately a combo of You Are Not Alone and You are Better Than You Think You Are, but neither of those are specifically love tropes).   Fanfic, 5k words, general audience.  This is chapter 5 of ?.  Previous chapter is HERE.

Since the chapter is 5k words, I put the rest after the jump:

A lot of unbelievable things have happened to Neville in his life, but standing on the streets of London being hugged very tightly by Draco Malfoy had to be in the top 5.  He took a deep breath, thinking about the look in Draco’s eyes right before he’d launched himself in Neville’s arms.  He’d been overwhelmed by the praise Neville had given him.  Like he’d never had a sincere compliment before.  It made him want nothing more than for Draco to be showered with praise, always.  That he wanted this for a boy that he used to fear and loathe, just went to show how topsy turvy the war had made everything.

Neville took another deep breath, but this time was distracted by the scent of Draco’s hair. He wanted so much to kiss Draco again, but he’d been serious earlier about not wanting to get in trouble with the muggle police.    

Neville glanced around, and saw the Hopping Pot a block down.  He hadn’t been paying attention to where they were going, but they must have doubled back after the park.  He murmured into Draco’s ear.  “Draco? How about I buy you a drink this time.”

Draco pulled away, he could tell reluctantly.  Neville pointed to the pub’s sign.  Draco nodded, his smiled subdued.  They went back inside, and this time they both ordered fire whiskeys.  Draco was very quiet.  Neville wondered if he felt embarrassed by his display of emotion. He tried to think of a topic of conversation.  “You know, it’s interesting that we both felt the first spark of feeling for someone at the Yule Ball.  I wonder why that is.”

Draco’s smile grew a little. “I think for me it was because it felt like we were taking a significant step into adulthood.  Dress robes, dancing.  There is a formality and grace to it.”

“That makes sense.  I really loved the dancing.  I stepped on Ginny’s toes a few times before I got it right. I loved it so much, I didn’t want the night to end.”

“Did you dance with Fred?”

Neville shook his head. “He spent the whole time glaring at Cedric and trying to dance with Angelina in as filthy a manner as he could get away with under Professor McGonagall’s watchful eye.  Looking back, I think his strategy was flawed.  If he’d been dancing with another boy, I think that would have set Cedric off for sure.”

“That makes sense.  A girl isn’t a threat because there’s no interest there.”  Draco paused for a bit.  “I didn’t dance with Blaise either, he still didn’t know I was alive then.  It’s a shame.  Such a romantic setting, and neither of us got to experience actual romance.”

Neville gazed at him. “I’d love to go to a ball with you. I bet you look incredible in dress robes.”

Draco adopted a conceited smirk and ran his fingers through his white blonde hair.  “Well, how do I respond to that without sounding immodest?”

Neville grinned.  “I’m serious.  With your build and your features, you’re the epitome of elegance. Even with your suit off you’d be elegant.”

Draco raised his eyebrows, “With my suit off?  Elegantly naked?”

Neville flushed red. “I…uh…bloody hell.  I meant you’d look elegant even in a t-shirt and jeans.”

Draco snickered.  “I know what you meant.  I just wanted you to picture me naked.”

“It…worked.”  Neville sipped his fire whiskey, trying to regain his composure by thinking about something benign, like plants.  His thoughts fell on the flowering plant that Roselyn had donated to Hogwarts.  This made him remember something he’d shoved to the back of his mind.  “The Restoration Ball!”  He stared over at Draco.  “I’d completely forgotten about it.  It’s in two weeks.”  The Restoration Ball was being held a few weeks before term started as a thank you to all the folks who contributed in some way to getting Hogwarts rebuilt. When he got the invitation, he debated with himself for a few days, but ultimately decided not to go.  He was afraid it would just make him feel even lonelier.

Draco’s expression was inscrutable.  “Ah yes, I’d forgotten about that as well.  I got an invite because we donated money to refurbish the Slytherin dungeons. I threw it in the trash immediately.”

“Because you didn’t have someone you could take?”

“That, and because literally everyone there would hate me.”

Neville frowned. “None of your friends are going to be there?”

Draco gazed at him, sadly. “I thought you might have figured it out when I talked about why I no longer wanted to see Blaise.  You see, my new outlook on life after coming back from China has had a rather drastic effect on my social life.  I’m kind of in a no man’s land right now.  I’ve always been hated by people I was cruel to growing up, which was pretty much any house that wasn’t Slytherin.  I was hated by even more people after becoming a Death Eater. And now, the few friends I had left hate me for being a blood traitor.  Literally the only people on earth who want to have anything to do with me are my parents and Cassandra.  And now you.”  He said the last bit, softly.

Neville felt a constriction in his chest.  “Merlin’s beard, Draco.”  He had to fix this for Draco.  People needed to realize that he’s changed and give him a second chance.  “Why don’t you come to the ball with me.  It’d be a chance for people to see that you’re different now.”  

Draco shook his head. “I don’t think I can face that many unfriendly faces at once.  There’s going to be a lot of people.  I can deal with something like a quidditch match, where I can ignore everyone but the game and the person with me.  But a ball involves a lot of socializing.”    

Neville worried his lower lip with his finger, thinking for a few moments.  Then he had an idea.  “I know! Let’s go to the Burrow tonight. Spend a couple of hours with my friends and let them get to know the new you.  I already know Harry will meet you halfway, because of how you and your mother helped him.  They’re good people, capable of forgiveness.  Even Ron.  And if you survive tonight, then when we go to the ball, people will see the Weasleys being friendly to you and know that something’s changed.  What do you say?”  Draco looked pensive, and didn’t give him an answer.  “Please, Draco.  I really want to take you to the ball.  And not just because I want to see you in dress robes.  I…I can’t stand the idea of you being isolated.  You need to get back out there in society.  Your transformation has given me hope for healing, and I think it would do the same for others.”

Draco drained the rest of his fire whiskey, then held up his glass for another.  “Neville, there’s something I need to tell you.”  He took a deep breath.  “I’m really touched that you want to mend the rift between me and the wizarding community.  But it doesn’t matter.  Even if people do forgive me, I’m not going to be around for the healing to happen.” He looked up at Neville, something like regret in his eyes.  “I’m going to America.  Cass goes back next week to spend some time with her family, and then in a little over a month, I’ll be joining her.”

Neville stared at Draco in confusion, then his eyes went wide as he thought he understood what Draco was saying.  “You’re not…you’re not actually going to do what your father wants?”

Draco frowned. “What?  You mean marry Cass?  Merlin, no! I meant Ilvermorney.  I’m going to be the apprentice to the Potions Master.” He sighed.  “When Cass came to visit a month ago, I was at the lowest, most lonely point I’d ever been.  She was like a breath of fresh air.  The wizards in America have heard of Voldemort and they knew about the war going on here, but they didn’t pay attention to details.  She had no idea about death eaters or our role in the war or any of it.  I was a completely blank slate to her.  I began to daydream about going to a place where I’d be a blank slate to everyone.

One day we were chatting about our respective schools and our favorite classes.  I mentioned that I’d always had an aptitude for potions.  She said that she didn’t like her potions master, he was too cranky and needed to retire.  His apprentice was much better, but at the end of term last year he suddenly got married and move to California.  They’ve been scrambling to find someone to replace him, but it’s been difficult because the potion master is notoriously hard to get along with.”  Draco drained his second glass of fire whiskey, set it down and pushed it away.  “On impulse, I wrote the school and said I was interested in the post.  They reached out to Professor Slughorn for his opinion of my skills.  Apparently he was reluctant, but consulted Snape’s portrait in the Headmaster’s office and decided to give me a good recommendation.  They gave me the position.  August 27 is when term starts.”  

Neville felt more and more crushed as Draco told his story.  Draco was leaving.  In a matter of weeks he’d be gone.  An entire ocean away.  Neville’s dreams of courtship had been stupid after all.  Draco never had any intention of getting serious with him.  His voice trembling with hurt, he asked “Why did you agree to go out with me if you’re leaving, Draco?  Am I some sort of last hurrah?  Because I’ll tell you right now that I’m not into that.  I don’t do casual flings.”

Draco shook his head, his eyes widening.  “I’m not into that either.  Look, I know I shouldn’t have said yes.  I realized you were someone that could be very special to me, and the timing of this really sucked, so I should have just said no rather than start something that was doomed.  But I couldn’t help myself.  It was the first time in years someone that I was attracted to showed an interest in me and I couldn’t ignore it.  I was worried that if I didn’t go out with you, then I’d go to America unable to stop thinking of you and wondering what might have been.  I reckoned it was better to go out on the date, since it would probably end up a disaster anyway.”

Neville frowned.  “You thought our date would be a disaster?”

Draco shrugged.  “You hated me for years, Neville, and for good reason.  I guess I figured at some point you’d remember it and we’d end up hexing each other right there at the quidditch match.  I’d then go to America with a clear mind.  Except that’s not how it turned out.  Instead we’ve just spent a delightful evening not hexing each other and now I feel awful because it’s going to come to an end.”

Neville felt better that Draco hadn’t planned to just use him and throw him away, but he still felt cold at the idea of him leaving.  “Does it have to come to an end?  Can’t you just change your mind and not go?”

Draco shook his head. “I’m committed for the school year. I can’t leave them in the lurch without an apprentice.”

Neville’s pulse quickened. “Just for this school year?  What happens after the year is over?”

Draco shrugged.  “It’s meant to be a trial period to see how well I get along with the potions master.  He’s known for being picky and typically goes through several apprentices before he settles on one he likes.  I don’t have a Plan B if the apprenticeship falls apart, but the possibilities are endless. I could stay on in America and figure things out.”  

“Or you could come back to England,” Neville said insistently.

Draco gave him a rueful smile.  “Well, that wasn’t an option I’d considered since I didn’t expect there to be anything to come back to.”  

“But there is now.  Or there will be.”  Neville gave him a determined look.  “I have one month to do whatever it takes to convince you that you will want to come back to England.  I accept the challenge.”  

Draco stared at him in amazement, and then chuckled.  “You are such a Gryffindor.”

Neville threw down a couple of galleons on the bar and held out his hand.  “Come with me to the Burrow.  We don’t want to waste another second.  A month is a very short time for a courtship.”

Draco blinked at him. “Courtship?  Are you courting me?”

Neville continued to hold out his hand and gazed intently at Draco.  “I am if you want me to.”  With a dazed smile, Draco put his hand in Neville’s, and they immediately disapparated.

They arrived just outside the perimeter of the Burrow.  There were enchantments in place to keep intruders out, but clearly they were expected because they walked down the lane without any resistance.   When they were close to the house, Draco stopped Neville. “Promise me you won’t leave my side? I don’t want to be alone with any of them.”

Neville squeezed his hand. “I promise.”

“Also, I..I’d like you to kiss me again.  No muggle police around now to arrest us for indecency.”

Neville’s lips curved in a smile, and he reached over and grasped the lapels of Draco’s suit jacket and pulled him in.  Neville leaned his head down and captured Draco’s lips with his.  As they kissed, he let go of the lapels and reached up to run his fingers through Draco’s silky soft hair.  Draco made a sound against Neville’s lips and pulled him closer.  Draco was so responsive to him that Neville found himself thinking of what else he would respond to.  But it was too soon for that.  He lifted his head, breaking the kiss.  “I think we better go in, now.”

“Maybe wait just a moment to cool off,” Draco said in a shaky voice.  Neville nodded his agreement.  They both took several deep breaths, and then finally went up to the door and knocked.  It flew open immediately, enchanted to open for visitors that are welcome.  They stepped inside and saw Weasleys scattered around the living room, and spilling over to the dining room and kitchen.  

“Neville?”  He glanced over and saw Ginny bound up to him, grinning ear to ear.  He opened his arms and she gave him a big hug.  “I’m so glad to see you.  I heard you made it to my game.  What did you think?”

“It was brilliant of course. I felt a bit bad for Wood, you were relentless.”  Ginny laughed, her cheeks red.  “Draco was pretty impressed with your strategy.  He was telling me all about it.”

Ginny’s smile faltered and she looked over at Draco.  Neville was apprehensive, knowing that Ginny hated Draco’s father.  Harry told Neville all about Tom Riddle’s diary, and how Lucius was the one responsible.  Ginny nodded politely.  “Draco. I’m glad you enjoyed the game. Even though I heard you were rooting for Puddlemere.”  She folded her arms, lifting her chin.

Draco smiled ruefully. “It’s always been my favorite team. I have to say though, if they were going to lose, at least it was to a worthy opponent.  You really are very talented, I can see why the Harpies snapped you up.  I’m pretty sure they only won because of you.”

Ginny blushed even more. “Well, thank you.”  She dropped her arms to her side.

Draco raised one eyebrow. “I do have to ask you one thing... Given that Oliver Wood used to play with your brother and Harry…I’m wondering, did either of them give you inside tips on how to defeat him?”

Ginny’s mouth dropped open. Oh crap, Neville thought.  What was Draco doing?  Was he going to offend the very first person he encounters at this party?  

But then Ginny burst out laughing, her expression slightly guilty.  “Of course Harry didn’t, he’s much too honorable.  But yeah, George gave me a few pointers.”  She shrugged.

Draco nodded approvingly. “All’s fair in love and quidditch. I would have thought less of you if you didn’t take advantage.”

She shook her head and laughed again.  “Well, if I ever play against any of your former team mates, can I count on you for some tips?”

“Absolutely.”  Draco grinned.

She nodded slowly, and Neville could see her assessing him.  “Well, have fun you two.”  Then she flitted off.  

Neville breathed a sigh of relief.  “Oh man, I thought we were done for right out the gate.”

Draco linked his arm through Neville’s.  “Sorry, I had to know.  It was bugging me all night.”

Neville suddenly felt a hand clap onto his shoulder.  He looked back and saw it was George, who had his other hand on Draco’s shoulder.  “Hello Neville, Draco.”  George’s tone of voice was dripping with mischief.  “You know, Ron’s been telling me that you’re practically married to your job as an Auror. And what better way to consummate the marriage then by shagging a death eater.”

Neville tensed and quickly turned around to face George. “He’s not a death eater anymore,” he said earnestly.

George chuckled.  “I know that, you gullible bastard, I’m just having a go.  Ron told me all about the horrible mangled mess on Malfoy’s arm where the dark mark used to be.”  Neville relaxed slightly as George winked at Draco.  “Let’s see it, then.”

Draco, who had looked angry at being called a death eater again, was now bewildered.  “Excuse me?”

“The scar.  I have to see it.  You know you want to show it off.”  George waggled his eyebrows.

Still looking discombobulated, but now fighting a laugh, Draco pulled his sleeve up.  George’s face was rapturous.  “That is the most brilliant thing I’ve ever seen.  You’ve completely obliterated it.  Take that, Voldy!  You old pile of ashes!  I can see why Neville’s drawn to you, Draco.  Everyone loves a good scar.  It even worked for Bill.  I sometimes wish I hadn’t grown my ear back.  I could have pulled loads of girls if I’d kept it looking like a gnarled stump.  I mean, hearing is overrated anyway, right?”

Draco laughed, and he stared at George like he wasn’t sure what to make of him.  Neville chuckled, “George’s gallows humor is legendary.  It takes some getting used to.”

George shrugged.  “It’s the quickest way to sort out the boring people. If someone is put off by my jokes, then we’re probably not going to get along.”

Draco cleared his throat. “I..uh, I’m actually glad for it. I’m a bit nervous being here, so it kind of broke the ice for me.”

“Nervous?  Don’t be.  As long as you treat Neville the way he deserves, we won’t have to lock you up with the family ghoul.”

Draco looked up at Neville. “I’m in trouble, then, because I think he deserves way better than me.”  

“Good answer!”  George clapped him on the back hard, causing Draco to stumble a bit.  “I’m gonna get you two drinks.  Your hands have been empty too long and you know how Mother gets if we’re not bombarding our guests with refreshments.  I’ll be back in two flicks of a wand.”  He bounded away towards the kitchen.

Draco blew out his breath. “Well, that was an experience. Was Fred like that?”

Neville nodded.  “Very much.  But they weren’t exactly alike, I could tell the difference.”

“Was it difficult to be around George after Fred died?”

Neville nodded again. “After the funeral, I pretty much avoided the whole family for awhile, except for Ron, of course, since I worked with him.  And it was a long time till I could bring myself to go to Diagon Alley.  I mean, their shop has a giant statue of their likeness.  But eventually it got better.  Time heals all wounds.”

“Well, not all wounds.” They turned at the voice and saw Bill standing there.  He was smiling and pointing towards the scars on his face.  

Neville gave him a hug. Then he introduced Bill to Draco. Draco shook his hand.  “Are you the one who works with dragons?”

Bill shook his head. “No, that’s Charlie.  I didn’t get these from a dragon.  It was a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback.”  Neville saw Draco’s smile fade and all color left his already pale face.  

Draco took a shuddering breath.  “Greyback did that to you?”

Bill nodded.  “You knew him, didn’t you?”

Draco blinked several times, looking ill.  “He spent a lot of time at Malfoy Manor.  But I didn’t get to know him.  Whenever he was around, I bolted myself in my room.”  

Neville felt sick.  “I can’t believe your father let a beast like that into his home, around his son.”

Draco looked away. “I’d say what I did was much worse. I let that beast into Hogwarts.”

Neville exchanged glances with Bill.  He knew that Bill received his scars that same night, defending the astronomy tower. Bill shook his head imperceptibly. He didn’t want Draco to know. Bill cleared his throat.  “Well, that beast was defeated by none other than this young man right here.”  

Draco turned his head back to face them.  “I know,” he said feelingly.  He gazed at Neville, the same way he had the day before when he was praising Neville for his courage.  Neville’s cheeks reddened.  Bill just raised his eyebrows.

George came back with their drinks.  He had Harry with him.  “Blimey, that’s the most ardent look of hero worship I’ve ever seen.  We may need to hose him down.  What brought this on?”

Bill chuckled.  “We were just talking about how Neville defeated Greyback.”

“Oh, that old news.  I thought maybe you’d done something recent. Hey Bill, have you seen what remains of Draco’s dark mark?  It looks revolting.  I almost vomited.  Show him, Draco.”

Draco looked exasperated and Harry laughed.  “Looks like it’s your turn, Malfoy.  I had to put up with everyone staring at my scar for year.”  Draco rolled his eyes and pulled up his sleeve.  

Bill gave an appreciative whistle.  “That looks like it might be worse than the burn mark on Charlie’s leg.  Hey, Charlie.”  Charlie looked up from stuffing a mince pie in his mouth.  He ambled over.  “Show us the burn on your leg.  We’re comparing scars.”  

Charlie chuckled and complied.  “I got this one at the triwizard tournament, when I was trying to wrangle that Ridgeback.” The patch on his leg was definitely almost as red and scarred as Draco’s arm.  “I’m still not sure how Harry escaped without a mark on him.”

Harry shook his head. “Well, it helped that I was running away from the dragon.”

Molly popped her head out of the kitchen and said that she needed George, Bill, and Charlie to get something out of the attic for her.  They went ambling off and it was just Neville, Harry, and Draco.  Draco turned to Harry and cleared his throat.  “Harry, um…I was wondering if you and I could have lunch some time and talk?  I…I’d really like to know more about my cousin Sirius.  I’ve tried to ask my mother, but she didn’t know him.  Most of the family avoided him out of embarrassment that he was a blood traitor.  But now he’s the only member of my family I have something in common with.”

Harry smiled softly. “I’d be happy to tell you all about him. Although honestly I think you have more in common with Regulus.”

Draco’s face, which had started to brighten, fell in vexation.  “You mean because we were both death eaters?”

Harry quickly shook his head.  “No!  I mean yes, but not just that.  It’s not widely known, but before he died, Regulus renounced his allegiance to Voldemort.  It’s an amazing story and I think you will be pretty proud of your cousin once you hear it.”

Draco’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?  I had no idea.  Yes, I would absolutely love to hear more.”

“How about tomorrow? The Leaky Cauldron?”  Draco nodded and beamed at Harry.  Neville felt an odd prick of jealousy, but squelched it. This was exactly what he wanted.  Healing for Draco.

Neville glanced over and saw Arthur approaching.  He suddenly felt more anxious than ever.  Neville had gotten to know him pretty well since they both worked at the Ministry and sometimes had lunch together.  Arthur was very kind, gentle, even jovial with everyone he met.  But when it came to his family, he did not suffer fools. Given how much they had suffered either directly or indirectly at the hands of both the Malfoys and Blacks, Neville couldn’t say for sure just what Arthur might do.  He didn’t always agree with his wife, so the fact that Molly had included Draco in the invitation to the Burrow didn’t mean that the patriarch would be just as welcoming.

Arthur stopped in front of him and smiled gently.  “Neville, it’s so good to see you here at the Burrow again. Welcome back.”  He reached out for a hug.  Neville embraced him back.  So far so good.

Arthur then turned to Draco and held out his hand.  “Welcome to the Burrow, Draco.  I trust that my children have been pleasant to you, so far?”

Draco smiled tentatively and shook Arthur’s hand.  “Yes, sir.  Everyone is being very kind.”

“Then I take it you haven’t seen Ron, yet.  It may be best to give him a wide berth this evening.  I hear that you spent time in China recently.”  At Draco’s nod, Arthur’s eyebrows knit together in a curious frown.  “I was wondering if you could tell me just what exactly chopsticks are to be used for?”

Draco’s lips twitched again into a smile.  “They’re eating utensils, sir.  Like a fork, but requires a bit more finesse to hold.”

Arthur nodded, fascinated.  “And your parents?  Are they well?”

Draco gave him a stunned look.  “I…I…my parents?”  Looking extremely discomfited, he said, “Forgive me, sir.  I know you’re just trying to make polite conversation with a guest, but I don’t think I can respond pretending that you actually care about the answer.”  He held Arthur’s gaze with as much dignity as he could muster.

Neville tensed.  He couldn’t really blame Draco.  It had seemed that Arthur was going to stick to small talk, but then quickly changed course. He watched as Arthur regarded Draco for a few moments, a small smile playing about his lips.  “I quite understand why you would think so.  Certainly in the past I wouldn’t have cared if the earth opened up and swallowed Lucius Malfoy whole.  We are complete opposites in every way that matters except one – we are both fathers.”  Arthur blew out a sigh.  “One thing about war, it really reveals our priorities.  And I respected the choice your father made at the Battle of Hogwarts.”

Draco looked away, huffing, “It was too little, too late.”

Arthur’s eyes tinged with sadness.  “Ah.  I think I have my answer, then.  Your parents are not doing well.”  Draco looked back at Arthur, scowling.  “You see, I know all too much what it’s like to have a son estranged from me.”  He glanced Percy’s way.  “Hopefully someday you will reconcile.”

Draco’s expression was defiant.  “I wouldn’t hold your breath, sir.  I’m not as sure as you seem to be that he really cares about me all that much.  If he did, he wouldn’t be constantly pestering me to continue the Malfoy name.”  Neville could tell that he was striving for control, but it was obvious that the topic of his father was a touchy one.

Arthur smiled bemusedly.  “You’re angry because he wants grandchildren?”

Draco’s lips tightened.  “Sir, you had a gay son.  Surely you understand why that would be a source of contention.”

Arthur nodded contemplatively.  “Fred and I only discussed it once, but I do remember him telling me he wished he could pass the Weasley hair on to his kids.”  Arthur chuckled at the memory.  “I guess it’s fortunate that I’m so fascinated by muggle practices.  I showed him an article in a muggle medical journal about artificial insemination.  They really are quite inventive!”

Draco stared at him in bewilderment.  “Artificial what?”  Neville felt his tension melt away as he tried not to smile.  He knew what this was about.  Fred had told him.

Arthur smiled brightly.  “Insemination.  I bet Hermione knows all about it, her parents are in the medical field.  Oh, Hermione?”    Harry, who had been standing by silently as they talked, put his hand up to his mouth, trying to stifle a grin.  Neville wasn’t sure what was funny.

Hermione looked up from her conversation with Ginny and came over.  “Yes, Mr. Weasley?”

He put his arm around her.  “Your parents are dentists.  Tell me, have they ever performed artificial insemination on a surrogate mother?”  Harry choked with laughter, pressing his hand harder against his mouth, his face turning beet red.

Hermione gaped at Arthur, unable to speak for a moment.  Then she finally managed to say, “Teeth, Mr. Weasley.  I’ve told you before, they only work on teeth.  No other parts of the body.  Just. Teeth.”

Harry no longer tried to contain himself.  He roared with laughter, tears streaming down his face.  Hermione giggled and gave Arthur, who looked befuddled, a kiss on the cheek. Draco was thoroughly confused, and Neville promised to explain later, laughing too hard to attempt it at the moment. Draco rolled his eyes, but grinned in response to the infectious laughter.  Neville started to feel more at ease and hopeful that his plan, to show Draco that he was no longer alone, was going to work.   It was nothing less than what he deserved.