#just flail your arms around to music really intensely for like an hour and then youll be too fucking exhausted to do anything worse !!!!!!

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

save me 2 hours of beat saber

[muffindaddystyles]

I WANT YOUR BELLY.

Summary: The shimmery vest of Harry's on you makes him combust on the spot ;)

A bottle of wine gone in a span of minutes. Your giggles treacly and slurry as you poke his heart-shaped, wine stained lips matching with his pink refulgent vest and he grins toothy-ly sweat sheened on his perfect features and his nose twitches into besotted sniff of your fragrance, leaning down to murmur his lips to yours.

“What got ya gigglin’ like tha’ lovebug?” You shake your head in slight carelessness. His brows furrowing in confusion, mouth parting musingly into a soft chuckle when you shimmy his vest down his arms leaving his upper half naked and all beautiful for you to admire.

“Just relax and see.” You whine out timidly tip-toeing on your toesies to the centre of the hotel room you guys are staying at -- well more like fucking morning and evening with a little tinge of exclusivity everytime.

When you came back to this cosy place of yours after an hour of his show ending that shimmery feeling of proud for him and the jitteriness to love on him was still there, more like doubled up when your eyes weren’t able to drift away from the stiff bulge forming in his pants from all the adrenaline and heat pumping in his body due to praises.

He takes pride in it, absolutely basks in the novelty of it.

His dimples dings up into a wicked smirk, the heels of his palms sinking into the soft bedding as he man-spreads quite sexily and leans into his own weight then straightens up immediately with bright eyes and a shit-eating grin when you strip down your clothes slowly.

“You givin’ me a strip tease baby!?” He howls playfully and you shushes him through sputtry giggles, head lulling at your shoulder and you laugh at the top of your lung as he rolls his eyes to his skull in the most erotic way and squeezes his straining member with the cup of his large palm when you get rid of every item of clothing you had on your body and with hesitant glances his way wears his vest.

It accentuates your curves beautifully, falling a little over your thighs from how big it’s since it’s his’s and it gives the most pristine view of the crescent of your tits and the valley between them.

His stomach froths with heat, the fabric of his pink flared bottoms from his splotching with the dollops of his precome and his bare chest heaves with raged breaths as you rub your one feet over another in timidness, knowing you’re drunk enough to do this but sober enough to contemplate how to put it infront of him.

Though they both know even if you move it an inch away to show him your perky tits, it’s over for the curly head.

“You know how belly dancers got this cute sparkly shiny dresses to make them appear more bendy? I’ve always wanted to do that! It seems so fun!” To your defence you always wanted to dance as carefree and fun as they do all you didn’t know was that it’ll be like this – giving a literal fever to your boyfriend and arousing both of you to such an extent where all his fierce eyes are indicating he’s about to strike forward and throw you on the bed and pound into you reckless.

The room fills with her sweet laugh when Harry fans himself, puffing out huge inhales of breaths and smirks at her cheekily.

“A lap dance would be much appreciated, thank you.” He's almost about to burst because she sure as hell looks amazingly stretchy and bendy and very breed able in this shiny thing.

“What a gentleman. Now, put on some music so I could give you a show you really deserve.” You command him and he nearly whimpers wanting to crawl towards you and spanks that bum of yours.

You’re suppressing your chuckles when he almost falls face first into the carpeted floor while scrambling to put on some music and when he returns back he’s rocking back and forth like an impatient kid -- doing anything in his will to give a bit friction, some relive to his throbbing cock.

“Promise that you wouldn’t make fun of me.” You point a finger at him, eyebrow raised to assert a little bit of power you’ve over him.

“C’mon baby! My balls are turning blue d'ya think I could ever make fun of you when you’re being such a good girl f'me?” His groans shaky and hoarse, nostrils flaring and his hands sandwiching between his thighs to subside the ache that you caused.

Hot white pleasure surges through each of his cervices and rattles through his bones upon the absolute lewd and smutty sight of you dancing for him with your eyes affixed on him like a seductress and it pelts his skin hot.

“Fuck.” He’s cursing under his breath, as you curve around gracefully and shakes your ass for him teasing your fingers over the waistband of your lace panties.

You bite down your lip when he puts his fingers under his tongue with his mouth sucked around them as he wolf whistles for you.

“Yes you go baby!” He yells at you making you laugh rosying your features and not failing to make you feel tingly under his passionate gaze.

The he looks down at himself in rather pique tugging his tight briefs a little away from suffocating his dick that's swelling up awfully fast and leaking with every graze and touch making him hiss groggily through his teeth loudly.

His reaction makes your cheeks flush and your toes curl against the soft carpet, making you all gooey with your own slick.

He almost looses it when you roll your hips and your tummy ripples raunchily.

You’re taken aback when he’s striding towards you, cupping the nape of your neck roughly and pressing his thumb into your nervy pulse pushing you till you’re pressed into the wall and he’s muffling your surprised squeaks with a big fat smooch to your lips which turns into sloppy heated work of mouths, tongues slick and naughty against eachother, teeth nibbling and teasing, lips too desperate to be parting away and when they do they’re hovering over eachother with their breaths hot and fanning.

“Look at y'being a filthy tease.” He tuts, warm fingertips tickling down your chest and sneaking under his vest to palm your tits as he ducks down to lick a fat stripe up your throat then sink his teeth into soft underbelly of your jaw.

“Now tell me who taught you to dance this good?” Everyone should sit down and takes notes from one and only Harry Styles; the man sure knows how to lie through his teeth because what you pulled moments ago was just clumsy drunk flailing of limbs.

“God gifted.” He chuckles mockingly, tapping your bottom pouty lip.

Your neck stretches far giving him more access to mark you as his’s, your fingers manoeuvring into his sweaty ruffled up curls when he glances up at you intensely with your nipples sucked in his mouth and his hand gliding into your panties – smirking goadingly at the squirm and pathetic gurgle of your tone.

“just like this pussy of yours?”

Except his eyes no blade can control you, no sharpened knife. That lascivious gaze’s enough to threaten a storm up your thighs and cause a rainfall between your legs.

Carefully, he puts his knees on the floor one by one while he paws at your hips to vignette admiring kisses down your midriff.

“Stop! It tickles!” You gasp giggle when his fingers palliates into your soft love-handles nipping and lapping then sponging tender kisses to your belly, your back arching abruptly with a low crack your blunt nails scratching down the wallpaper when Harry coos and spurts noises of admiration.

“Can’t help it, poppet. I love your little belly so much.” Your mouth parts around shallow breaths when he nuzzles his nose against your heat and engulfs into the tangerine smell of your arousal, pressing a kiss to the damp spot and murmuring against it with his calloused palm hardly pressed to your quivering tummy.

“Love feelin’ myself snug in your belly, how it warbles and gurgles fo’ me t’ fill it up with me cum,” His gruff tone sending cold shivers down your spine, making you wetter and slicker, pussy lips clenching around nothing making squelching noises catching Harry’s attention and he smirks ominously -- startling you with a gentle nip to the inside of your thighs then ripping your panties in one harsh tug.

“You love takin’ my cock in this cute belly of yours don’t ye' kitten?” He asks you, eyes glued to the way you melt into his touch when he parts your glistening pulsating folds away with his middle and index, mesmerised at how drippy you’ve managed to get for him as it coats his digits then tricks down his wrist thickly.

“Hmm. Guess like I’ve no option but to treat myself to the sweet pussy of my belly dancer.” He hums roguishly, making you bob your head vigorously and pulling at his hair to nudge him to do something anything to quell this ache that's soaring like a flame in wind making you embarrassingly more slippery every passing second.

Your eyelids skewers tight, fingers falling lip atop the mop of his curls and knees quaking thanks to Harry’s strong biceps straddling you over his shoulders as he spreads your legs wider apart and grips onto your thighs with his all might and strokes his tongue in one tantalising hot lick from all the way to your slit up your pulsing clitoris wrapping his lips around the sensitive nub into a nasty suck and toys it around with his tongue.

“Ha –- H ... Harry!” You whimper out meekly grinding your cunt against the faint stubble growing over his cupid-bow, pleasure spiking into your each pore at how good it feels.

“Mhmm kitten, tell me does daddy makes y'feel good? Warm and nice?” A string of saliva connects his lips and your clitoris. He presses his two fingers to it moving them up and down to lube them then to rub your clit in tight little circles, putting right pressure and attention to it as you cry out slumping against the wall and grabbing onto the nearest furniture with a mantra of harryharryharry booming in your head.

“Yes, yes, yes. You’re so good to me,” You mewl out impishly incasing his head perfectly between your thighs, trembling in his hold when he eases his ring and middle finger inside you gauging for your reactions and carousing in the way your face falls placid into pure bliss, your lips wobbly and the corners of your eyes dotting pink.

“This feels good, moppet?” He asks gruffly curling to caress the spot that sends you into wreck havoc and plunges his fingers deeper inside you, the tip of his nose stuffing into your mound as he licks into you hungrily and sloppily getting his cheeks and chin all messy and shiny with your juices.

“Bet, daddy’s cock feels better. Stuffs y’belly more good.” He growls, the vibrations jolting you in your skin. His fingers fucking into you quicker and deeper, pushing his knuckles to your weepy tight entrance – your cunt swallowing his rings.

Your chin tips up towards the ceiling moaning breathily, thighs trembling and hands gripping his shoulders that’ll leave guaranteed bruises as the ministrations of his mouth and tongue on you, his fingers thrusting in you and his face making a mess out of your drippiness become too much for you sending you into a over drive of buzziness making you lightheaded and floaty.

“C’mon kitten drench me, cum in daddy’s mouth.” Is all it takes for you to do what he asked for and you almost fell forward if not for Harry’s support squirting with loud and wounded moans.

He almost combusts in his pants when you grit carnally riding his face and shoving yourself down into him, not able to stop coming while he encourages you, soothing your aching thighs with gentle strokes, “That’s it baby, atta girl.” And “You did so good f'me kitten, g’na show you how hard ‘m for you.”

"Cute. How bout I fuck you in every one of my outfits?" He pats your cheek, smacking a big kiss to it and doesn't wait for your response before throwing you over his shoulder and landing a stinging slap to your bum.

His dark lustful eyes indicating that he’s not done with you yet.

[weareallstoriesintheend]

As Long As You Need (Reader x Adam Sackler)

Summary: Adam and Reader are hookup buddies. Adam gets concerned that you don't want to see him for a few weeks and comes over to check on reader. Reader is struggling with anxiety/depression and Adam comforts them through a panic attack.

Warnings: Depression, anxiety & panic attacks

Note: This was the fic I wrote for the Summer 2021 @adcuficexchange for LondonID!🥰 I hope this fic is something that resonates with people, I know mental health is a vast and personal subject but I hope something hits home. Even if it's just some beautiful care from our favourite gremlin 💕

The light of the day was fading slowly and the grey cover of dusk was slipping its way into the room. You lay in bed, head tucked against the pillows, body exhausted with the expense of the energy anxiety was taking from you. You felt empty and yet full to the brim, your mind weighed so heavy that you could barely move most days. The second you heard the loud thumping knocks on your front door you jolted as if waking up from a bad dream.

“Kid you in there?” Adams voice came, muffled by the thick wood of the doors between you, booming through your silence. You realised in that moment that you hadn’t spoken to him or seen him for a while and as someone who was a pretty regular occurrence in your life it suddenly felt strange to hear his voice after such a long time, you pulled your phone out from under the pillow and unlocked it. Your eyes screwed shut at the blinding light, but peeking through your eyelashes you checked your messages. Your last text to him had been nearly 3 weeks ago, then the page was just filled with him texting you again and again. All of which, in the haze of your mind, you had ignored. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him; you craved his cheeky smile, soft hair and adorable galaxy of freckles that smattered his skin. It was just the thought of having to explain the tornado that was tearing you apart that felt like a crushing pressure you couldn’t bear. Basic daily life was enough, sometimes too much, so anything on top of that you had shut out.

You curled yourself into the sheets a little more, pulling them around your shoulders. Although they were soft cotton the brush of them across your overly sensitive skin felt like sandpaper dragging over a raw exposed nerve. You stayed as still as possible whilst his knocks continued to echo through your apartment.

In a way you wondered if you had any obligation to him at all, you guys just hooked up every now and again after meeting at a mutual friends birthday party a year or so ago. Nothing serious, no dates, just fucking. He scratched an itch for you so you didn’t have to brave the dating world that daunted you. He was fun, he made you laugh but he didn’t pressure you to spend any more time with him than coming over to hold you face down into your mattress allowed.

The knocks turned to bangs of a fist and you pulled your blanket over your head, maybe he’d just go away if he thought you weren’t home. Your body thrummed with the disturbance of your comfortable silence and it made you uneasy. A slight nausea rippled through your throat. “I know you’re home” his voice bellowed, you closed your eyes and didn’t respond. “Open the fucking door kid” he shouted, he didn’t sound angry but you couldn’t quite make out the tone. He’d never used it before around you that’s for sure, he almost sounded worried. Then there was more thumping on the door, “Kid, for fucks sake your sweet old lady neighbour is looking at me like I’m fucking nuts, open the door”

You sighed and slung yourself off the bed onto your feet. The rush of movement made your head spin; your muscles and joints ached with a lack of energy. You tiptoed out of the bedroom and into the main room of your apartment, hoping that he couldn’t hear your deliberately soft padding footsteps. With your eyes trained on the door you didn’t notice the chair sticking out from the table and you bumped it as you passed. You froze dead still waiting to see if he’d heard it.

“I can hear you rustling around in there. Just open the fucking door and talk to me”

“I don’t want you to see me” you replied hesitantly, not raising the volume of your voice too high knowing he could hear you through the door now. The croak of your voice finally speaking was crackly and broken. “Why not?”

“I… I don’t look great” you looked at yourself in the reflection of the painting hanging on the wall. In the glass you could just about see yourself looking back; your hair was greasy and dishevelled, your eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with red and dark circles created a deep shadow underneath them. You suddenly balked at how awful you actually looked, you hadn’t showered in a few days and it really showed. Your face looked kind of gaunt with the limited food and sleep you’d given yourself for the last few weeks, mind always racing with one thought after another. The racing thoughts only leaving space for the basics of working at your laptop for 8 hours a day and activities to numb your mind till a restless bedtime. “Are you kidding?” he scoffed, thumping his fist once against the door, “I’ve seen you sweating, crying and covered in my cum… I don’t think you looking a little messy is going to be bother me” You cringed at how loud he was talking and in your embarrassment you frantically pulled the door open, “Jesus Adam don’t say that so loud my neighbours will hear y-“ you paused mid-sentence when you saw how he was looking at you. He was shocked and trying to hide it but his eyes were wide with sympathy. You instantly went to close the door on him again but he put his overly large foot in the way.

“Nope, no way! You opened it, I’m like a vampire, you’ve got to let me in now” he smiled cheekily. You sighed and let go of the door walking away from him. “Listen I don’t know why you’re here” you said, voice trailing behind you as you made your way to the couch hearing him step inside and close the door behind him, “I don’t really think I’m in any fit state to be fucking anyone” “I’m not here to fuck you” he retorted, for some reason that kind of stung. “Then why are you here?” you said, nestling into the couch cushions as he firmly placed himself standing in front of you. Adam was staring down at you with that intense glare he always seemed to have and you squinted your eyes, hurting due to the light from the windows, to look up at him. “Why am I here? You haven’t talked to me for like… three weeks. What the fuck do you think I’m doing here? I thought I was going to find you rotting in the bathtub or some shit” You rolled your eyes “I’m fine” “Oh right this…” he paused, flailing his arms at the quite frankly disgusting state of your living room, “… this is ‘fine’?” “This is as good as it gets” you muttered under your breath. He scoffed and you looked up at him, you took a second to take him in. He’d clearly run here, the beads of sweat were trailing gently down his temples and had matted the curly little front pieces of his hair. The outfit he was wearing, a dark blue cut off tank top, grey knee length shorts and heavy tan work boots over cream socks, would look kind of uncoordinated on anyone else but something about Adam always just… made sense.

“What do you mean?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Nothing” you rolled your eyes again, “You know you can just go right? I don’t even know why you’re bothering”

“What are you talking about kid? I wanted to make sure you were alright. You went all ghost on me and I was worried about you”

“Worried?” now it was your turn to scoff, you could feel the sickening panic rolling around inside your stomach and you needed him to leave.

“Yeah kid… worried” Adams voice suddenly had a tinge of anger behind it and it made the panic swirl harder around inside you.

“Well I don’t need you to worry about me. That’s not your job, your job is to fuck me and leave. And you’re good at that. So you do your job and I’ll do mine”

“Not true” he retorted, face screwed up a little against the harshness of your words.

“You were the one that set those rules Adam” you replied, frustration tainting your words “You don’t need to act like you give a shit”

“Hey when I commit, I really commit” “Commit to what?” you shouted, losing a little of your patience as your ears started to ring and the blood pumped through your body like a steady beat of music. “Commit to you!” he yelled back “We may not be dating or whatever but when I want someone in my life I work for that. Clearly you don’t…we are supposed to be fucking friends after all!”

He had every right to be mad, you had barely treated him like a human being lately and the wash of guilt made your heart start to jump in its rhythm. You could feel the brush of heat up the back of your neck and your pulse thudding in your ears. You shook your head wishing away what you knew was happening; the panic of the overwhelming sense of everything was rising up from your toes. He couldn’t see you like this, it was too embarrassing.

Although your breath was basically coming out like gasps you looked up at him and firmly said “Please leave”

He shook his head “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’re avoiding me. Did I do something?” You stood up from your seat on the couch but didn’t get very far, your body felt over stimulated and you couldn’t get your mind clear enough to decide where to go to escape him. So you started pacing back and forth, hands clenching and unclenching at your sides.

“Adam please just go” this time your voice betrayed you even further, the tell-tale break in your speech giving away the tears that had begun to brim in your eyes. You pushed the base of your palms harshly into your eye sockets, rubbing away the tears. “Hey hey hey” he said softly, reaching out for your wrists and you flinched back, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Please just leave!” you shouted, panicked breath coming out of you in heavy pants. “I can’t breathe” you whispered to yourself turning away from him. Your tears, now virtually unstoppable, cascaded down your cheeks as the panic truly set in. You swayed slightly as you began to feel light-headed.

“Tell me what you need” you heard him say, but his voice felt like it was miles away from you even as he stood mere steps away with his hands outstretched slightly in your direction.

This was it, you were officially going crazy. You couldn’t even handle a simple conversation or own up to your shitty actions. You stole a glance at Adam, his eyebrows were pulled down with concern watching you and a wave of nausea rolled up into the back of your throat. He was going to think you were insane after this, this was the last time you were ever going to see him and this was how you were acting. You felt your cheeks heat up, burning with panic and embarrassment. One of the only things that kept you afloat, the only thing had made you happy as of late, was going to walk out. You could imagine him telling his friends about the crazy chick he used to fuck on the side, “She just totally flipped out on me, honestly man fucking nuts” you could practically hear his voice already, full of mocking vitriol towards you.

Then you really started to hyperventilate, chest aching with the weight of your gasps, but something in the back of your mind gave you respite… that wasn’t Adam. That wouldn’t be how he would act. He was kind. You glanced up at him as your hands began to shake violently.

“I-I’m sorry” you stuttered out, you felt your body collapse underneath you as the room began to spin around you. He dove forward to catch you as your body buckled down to the hard wooden floor.

“Come here” his voice was gentle and barely audible to you but he held you tight, this time you didn’t flinch and he quickly gathered you into his arms in the fear you would move away from him again. “It’s just a panic attack, you’re going to be okay. I’m right here, it’ll be over soon” As he pulled you into his chest, seating himself on the floor with you, he stretched his long legs out around you so his whole body was caging you against him. Your breath instantly started to slow down as the warmth and closeness of him soothed you. He didn’t speak too much, he just calmed your mind with hushed whispers of “Shhh” and “You’re going to be okay”.

You clung yourself to him, vibrating with the force of the trembles that were wracking your body. Your teeth chattered in your head causing you to screw your eyes closed in pain. Your fingers wound tight in his shirt as your breathing finally began to even out. Your body released some of the tension that was winding your muscles tight and you leant a little more into his chest.

“H-how did you know?” you stammered, voice barely above a whisper as you regained your breath.

He shrugged “My mom used to get them… and my sister for a while. I’m used to it.” he smiled softly, lips merely twitching up at the edges as he gauged your reaction. He stroked his large hand through your tangled hair, massaging his fingers over your scalp as your body relaxed and you sighed. “Better?” he asked, placing a careful kiss to the top of your head. You nodded, the scent of his cologne and sweat drifted over you as you kept yourself gripped against him, not quite ready to be moved from his warmth.

“You didn’t have to do this” you croaked, looking up at him now. He shook his head and rolled his eyes jokingly, a smirk coming over his lips as he does it.

“You know we don’t just have to fuck right? We can be more than that.” he chuckled, holding your face gently with one hand, “We can also talk, we are friends right?”

You nodded again, looking up at him with wide glassy eyes. He kissed the tip of your nose and you scrunched it.

“Listen maybe we’re just friends for a little while. We can… get lunch or walk through the park when the weather gets better. Whatever you want” he shrugged, you smiled at the level of effort he was so clearly trying to give. Adam hated stuff like that, lunches out and walks in the park; he often said how trivial it all seemed to him. He liked to be at home in his own little world. So the fact he was offering to make you feel better was more than enough to bring a smile to your face. You nodded and giggled when he pumped the air with his fist in celebration.

“And you know, if you need someone to come with you to therapy or whatever I can do that too” he mumbled clearly unsure how you would respond, “You still go to therapy right? I know you mentioned it a while ago and I figured-“ he began to ramble nervously. You pressed your hand into his chest and nodded.

You pushed yourself up a little and placed a kiss to his cheek, “That would help, thank you”

He shuffled a little and rose to get to his feet before extending a hand out to you. You clasped your hand across his, so much smaller in his grasp, and used his body weight to pull yourself up on unsteady legs. He wrapped his arms around you a little bit, his body hunched over yours protectively.

“But first, you need food… and a shower” he paused for a moment, making small grunt-like thinking noises as he looked you over. Then all at once he dipped and gathered you up in his arms, you squealed loudly and wrapped your arms around his neck “What are you doing?” you protested through unsure giggles.

He didn’t say anything but started walking towards your bathroom. He kicked the door open with the toe of his boot and swung his arms so that your head just missed the door frame. He propped you, sitting upright, on the edge of your bathtub before reaching up and turning on your shower. He gestured for you to stand as the water began heating up behind you. Soft clouds of steam quickly started to rise up around the room and he nodded with satisfaction. He tentatively tugged at the base of your oversized-hoodie and you raised your arms above your head. He slipped your hoodie off in one swift motion and dropped it to the floor beside you both. You self-consciously crossed your arms over your now bare chest and he smiled down at you. He placed a kiss to your forehead before kneeling down to wriggle your panties off your hips and down your legs. You shuffled shyly, despite the fact he’d seen you naked so very many times, and stepped out of them as he reached your ankles. He tossed them on top of your hoodie, placing a tender kiss to your stomach as he knelt in front of you, before standing back up to his full height “I’ll get you fresh stuff and wash those” he noted, almost to himself as he spun you by your shoulders so you had your back to him. “You get in there” he pointed to the steady stream of hot water creating billows of steam in the small bathroom, “And I’m going to make you some soup, you still have cans of that chicken one you like?” You nodded once and he placed a firm kiss to your shoulder. With his hands on your waist he placed a final kiss to the top of your head before his touch left you completely. You smiled at his constant need to show you physical care, it was like he understood how even simple affection could heal even the worst of the pain your brain could throw at you. You turned to look over your shoulder as he left the room; like he sensed your hesitation he stopped and turned to look at you with a sweet smile…

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’ll stay with you as long as you need me too”

[sierraraeck]

Bad Liar

Moreid (Spencer x Derek)

Masterlist

Summary: Ever since his first day at Quantico, Spencer has had only one thought on his mind: SSA Derek Morgan. He knows that any sort of relationship would be inappropriate, but that doesn’t stop the constant stream of fantasies from flooding his mind.

Category: Spicy fluff, smut alluded

Warnings: Non-graphic descriptions of sex, fantasizing, suggestive touching, kissing, very light cussing.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: This was inspired by the song “Bad Liar” by Selena Gomez. If you wanna give that a quick listen, go for it, if not, that’s chill too. I know that I haven’t been very active and haven’t posted anything in a while, but sometimes life just happens. Hopefully this was worth the wait…

Spencer had heard the phrase “I never stop thinking about you.” He’d heard it in reference to love and relationships when people were apparently so madly in love they couldn’t stop thinking about the other. He never really bought that. Love was just a bunch of feel-good chemicals that couldn’t affect the amount of time spent thinking about another person. Plus, how could anyone ever constantly think about a person? There were so many other things to think about like surviving high school, getting into college, graduating, of course his mom, and then getting into the FBI, and how he would surely not be able to make it all the way through Quantico training. No one could ever think about one person all the time. No, definitely not.

But Spencer wasn’t known for being a good liar.

His first day at Quantico he saw Derek Morgan, and he realized that he was wrong. He was so utterly and outrageously wrong.

Because after he saw him, heard his voice just once, his exceptional mind kept those interactions on constant repeat.

He was lucky he was so good at multitasking otherwise he would have definitely failed by now.

Not like he still wouldn’t.

He couldn’t sleep, not with someone like Derek Morgan intruding his every thought, every midnight desire. On top of that, they were about to go into the hardest week of physical training yet, and Spencer knew that this was the one challenge that his brain could not overcome.

The one redeemable thing about the humiliating experience he was sure would come during the following days was that he’d get to see SSA Morgan again. Sure, it'd be more embarrassing to fail in front of him, but at least he’d get to see him a few more times before they kicked him out for being the scrawny kid he’s always been.

The feelings of excitement and anxiety twisted his gut into a wonderful knot, keeping him from yet another night of sleep. Somehow that made it both harder and easier for him to get up when the clock hit 4:45.

Spencer looked between two blinds covering the window on the right, allowing him to see that the sun was still about an hour from rising. Slipping on his given shirt and pants, he hoped that there would be some source of caffeine at breakfast, preferably coffee.

He trudged into the bathroom to find his roommate already awake and dressed. “Big day. You excited?” Jeff, a man about a head shorter than Spencer but at least twice his width in pure muscle mass, asked.

Spencer just grunted in response.

“What? You’re not excited to get pitted against someone else so that you can flail around in an attempt to spar?”

“I’ll stick to teaching you the technique,” he quipped.

Jeff laughed. “It’d suit you better. Unfortunately your wizard brain and forbidden library won’t help you in this one. But dammit if you aren’t the smartest guy here.” Jeff shook his head as if it were a shame.

Once they were ready, along with the rest of the NATs, the group was directed to jog across campus to the building they’d be training in. The day was off to a bad start.

Spencer did his best to distract himself from the actual running bit, trying to analyze the people in his group and those they passed as they went.

Bored, hungry, important, invisible… Derek?!

He turned his head to follow the tall man with short black hair and dark eyes as the group passed him on the sidewalk.

No, that wasn’t him. Of course it wasn’t. Agent Morgan is waiting for us at the facility.

Spencer tried to hide the slight disappointment that came over him. He felt so stupid for looking for him everywhere, but he couldn’t help it. Even his own knowledge and logic was failing him when it came to this man he knew next to nothing about expect for his shining smile and intense eyes and toned biceps and amazing abs and powerful legs and delicious stamina and strong hands that could grip his neck and hold him down and his defined hips bones that Spencer knew would dig into his thighs and certainly leave bruises if he were to…

What was his issue? He couldn’t be thinking that way about one of his trainors.

Although it helped the jog pass by faster. Time flies when you’re having fun, right? Or at least imagining having fun.

When they arrived at the other facility, they were provided a quick breakfast, unfortunately no coffee today, and then led to the top floor with an entire wall traded out for floor to ceiling windows.

The room they entered was massive, large mats rolled out edge to edge, and the smell was musty. It felt humid, sticky sort of, and Spencer hated to think about why that was.

He quickly scanned the room and found his target immediately. Across the way, Derek had his opponent mid flip, landing harshly on his back with a thud. He helped the poor guy up, laughing a bit as he did so. His pearly whites were on full display when he looked up and caught Spencer’s eye. Spencer quickly diverted his gaze, opting instead to look down at his twisting hands.

“Today we will be focusing on hand to hand combat,” Derek announced once the group had wandered closer. “You never know when the perpetrator will decide not to run and instead to attack you, or when you will find yourself without any weapons other than yourself to protect you. The first thing we are going to practice are some basic jabs. Grab a partner and follow our demonstration.”

Derek and the man he’d thrown on the ground earlier, Grant, demonstrated the seemingly simple movements that Spencer and the rest of the NATs were supposed to replicate. Of course, everyone else made it look easy, but Spencer just couldn’t wrap his head around what his arm was supposed to be doing where and when. It was frustrating, even more so than he’d prepared himself for.

“Keep your shoulders here,” that velvety deep voice said, accompanied by his large hands on either of Spencer’s shoulders, adjusting them to more of an angle.

All Spencer could do was swallow hard and nod. He didn’t even dare to look back at him.

“And spread your legs,” Derek said. His breath seemed to get closer to Spencer’s neck with every word, and quieter as he went along. But surely that was all in his head? Right?

Spencer’s startled eyes turned to look at the older man. The edges of his mouth twitched before resuming that stern, professional demeanour. “It’ll help you balance.” With that, he nudged Spencer’s foot farther backwards with his own and walked away, leaving Spencer feeling unnecessarily exposed and confused.

The guy across from him, Harold, one of the only people who had been genuinely nice to Spencer from the start, was watching the whole interaction with suspicion.

The day trudged on with not much change. Spencer’s skin was still on fire from where Agent Morgan had touched him, but he tried to convince himself it was because he didn’t really like being touched. He knew that was a lie, especially in this instance, but it didn’t stop him from telling it.

After lunch, training continued. But at least it got more interesting.

“Grant just got called out on a case, so I’ll be needing someone to help me with this demonstration.” Derek waited just about three whole seconds before smirking, the mischief written all over his face. “Come on? No one wants to volunteer? It’ll be fun, I promise.” When he was met with more silence (even the guys like Jeff didn’t want to be thrown around by Derek), he was forced to choose someone. “How about… Reid.”

Spencer’s head shot up from the back of the group. No, no, this is not good.

Spencer had been dreaming about getting thrown around by Derek for a few months now, but this was definitely not what he’d had in mind.

The crowd slowly parted and Spencer had to face the music; he was going to be humiliated in front of everyone, like nothing had changed since high school.

Sighing, Spencer forced himself to the front of the group. “Lay down for me, knees bent, would you?”

I’d do anything you asked, was Spencer’s initial response in his head. What he really did was shrug and follow instructions.

“The reason we practice this move is because at some point or another, you will find yourself in either position.” Spencer wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that until Derek legitimately stood over him, a leg on either side, then proceeded to get down on his knees, essentially sitting on top of Spencer.

He couldn’t even focus on what Derek was explaining anymore. Breathing didn’t exist. There was no way this glorious man was sitting on top of him right now. All he could think about was how prominent Derek’s ab muscles were through his tight shirt and how he wanted nothing more than to lean forward and run his tongue over them. Spencer could almost imagine what they would feel like; the rise and fall of his muscles, the small hairs covering his body… Spread your legs, he had said to him.

“So then Reid would grab my wrist…” Derek’s use of his name brought him back to reality. If only he could live in his fantasies for longer.

Spencer looked up at Agent Morgan confused. Derek’s eyes got wider and looked at his right hand and then down at his own left wrist. Spencer somehow got the message and reached his hand over to grab a hold of Derek’s wrist. “Good,” he declared. “After that, he would hook his left foot on the outside of my ankle.”

Spencer quickly followed orders, trying to force his brain to supply him with the information he’d missed.

“Then, he’d use my weight against me to flip me over.” Spencer’s eyes got big when Derek said that, mentally panicking that he could never be strong enough for that. Derek nodded at him, so Spencer tried to roll over, and to his, and everyone else’s, surprise, he actually could.

Within seconds Spencer was sitting on top of a very pleased Derek. “It’ll work every time. Of course, if your unsub is skilled he’ll lock you in and flip you back over and potentially pull your arm out of your socket,” Derek explained while doing just that to Spencer, minus the arm-out-of-socket thing, “But we’ll take this one step at a time.”

Derek was back on top of Spencer with his legs wrapped around him in a vice-like grip, but quickly let go to help him up. Spencer gladly accepted the help.

Spencer doesn’t exactly have what one would consider a “big dick.” He always thought that was something to be ashamed of but standing there, getting hard in the middle of an FBI training academy, he couldn’t’ve be more grateful.

The NATs were sent back to work on the newly demonstrated move with their partners. Just as Spencer was about to flip Harold over for the third time, he looked over his head and rolled his eyes.

“What?” Spencer asked.

“What is it with you two?” Harold asked in return.

“What?” Spencer repeated. Harold nodded in the direction he was just looking, and Spencer followed his gaze. Derek was walking by, but nothing else seemed of import. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh please,” Harold snorted. He was a lanky man like Spencer, but just a bit shorter and with glasses. Sometimes Spencer envied his glasses, as his contacts often got on his nerves. He continued, “The touching, the constant eye contact, the word choice that could be inherently sexual, and then literally sitting on top of you? When there were plenty of other men and women he could have picked for that demonstration? Tell me you don’t see it.”

Spencer mulled over these words for a few seconds before flipping Harold over. Looking down on him, he said, “I don’t think that means anything.”

“Then maybe you need to get a new prescription,” Harold said, pointing to his eyes.

Spencer shook his head. “What do my eyes have to do with this?”

Harold sighed. “God, your gaydar is so broken.” He flipped Spencer over, stood up, and walked away.

Shortly after, class was called and they were all let go for the remainder of the evening.

“Reid, can I speak to you for a moment?” Agent Morgan called out as the first of the NATs started to leave. A few caught Spencer’s eye with unanswered questions in them, but no more than the mound of questions Spencer had been asking himself.

Without answering, Spencer walked over to the corner of the room that Derek was standing in. He could tell that he was waiting for every single person to leave the room before speaking.

Spencer thought for sure he was getting kicked out because of how horribly he performed throughout the day.

To his surprise, that’s not at all what the outstandingly attractive man had to say. “I wanted to let you know that you did a good job today during the demo. Not many people handle that so well.”

Spencer waited for him to say more, but nothing more seemed to be coming. Derek actually seemed a bit nervous if Spencer could read him right. He replied cautiously, “Thanks.”

Derek cleared his voice and said, “Yeah. And if you ever want to stay late and work on some moves I’d be happy to help.”

Spencer just got more and more confused as his interactions with this god-like man increased. “Thanks,” he repeated. “Why are you offering to help me like that?”

Agent Morgan shrugged. “You’re one of the smartest people in FBI history to come through here, and definitely the youngest. There’s absolutely no reason you shouldn’t become an agent, and I want to see you succeed. That’s all.” He shrugged again, and if there was anything Spencer had learned from the profiling section of his training, someone being over-casual was usually a sign that they were stressed about something they viewed with extreme importance, and were trying to play it off. Why would he be stressed to talk to me?

“I guess I’ll take you up on that offer. Will you be here tomorrow?” Spencer asked, trying to mask the hope in his voice. Who was he kidding; Derek was already one of the top profilers in the Bureau.

“I will be. You can plan to stay after then.”

Spencer nodded and walked away, but not before glancing back one more time. Harold was right; they did make a lot of eye contact.

The next day couldn’t go by faster. Spencer had spent practically the entire night thinking about everything that had happened, trying to figure out if Harold was right or not. There was no way. Spencer was just Spencer, a NAT, and Derek Morgan was, well… Derek Morgan.

He probably just thought that Spencer was a hopeless case and needed extra help. Yeah, that was it. It had to be.

When the day was over, Spencer wasn’t just relieved like he usually was, but he was excited too. It no longer mattered to him what the reason was for him being there late, he just wanted to spend more time in the presence of SSA Morgan.

“I was thinking I’d help you with that second move we learned today, the cross-punch jab combo,” Derek announced. His voice echoed just a bit off the walls of the training center now that it was completely abandoned.

He walked over to one of the punching bags lined up just a few feet from the wall, and Spencer followed him in a manner that could only be described as a lost puppy. Spencer could keep track of all sorts of numbers, but the sheer amount of repeating memories morphing into new thoughts morphing into full blown fantasies was even too high for him to count. He’d never known of a drug so powerful.

“I’ll show you the move again, then I want you to try and copy it.” Derek stepped closer to the bag and executed a textbook one-two combo, the muscles in his arms and back contracting in perfect unison. God, Spencer wanted so badly to just reach out and run his hands all over this pristinely sculpted man, but he denied himself, letting his hands tremble in place instead.

Spencer stepped up to the bag next to Derek’s and attempted to do the same thing. Derek watched with a sharp eye.

After a few reps, the skilled agent took long strides that landed him only inches away from the younger man’s back. “Keep tension here.” His hands engulfed Spencer’s waist and twisted them to the side with the ease of swatting a fly.

The feeling was so overwhelming Spencer thought he might never be able to move again, and honestly, he didn’t want to. Standing there in the grip of that man was really all he’d been wanting for months now.

The only thing that pulled him out of his trance was the way Derek’s fingers lingered as he walked around to Spencer’s front, drifting down far enough to send a clear message, one that even Spencer couldn’t miss, but not far enough to be completely intrusive.

But Spencer wanted intrusive. He wanted nothing more than for Derek Morgan to invade his personal space to the point of no return.

He looked at the older man with shock and a burning question, but didn’t flinch or move back. Derek simply bit his lip and scanned Spencer up and down at what felt like a snail’s pace. He felt like a helpless deer being sized up by a lion for his next meal.

Spencer swallowed hard.

He’d been wanting nothing more than to be in this very same situation, or one of the multitudes of variations he’d created in his mind, but now that it was here could he really go through with it? Was it really the best idea? Did he really want this? No, he couldn’t.

But Spencer wasn’t known for being a good liar.

The only signal Derek needed was the simple nod of Spencer’s head.

And he got it.

Like a snake ready to strike, Derek brought his lips to Spencer’s in an instant. His questioning fingers had an answer, returning to their strong hold over Spencer’s hip bones.

Spencer knew what was happening was completely inappropriate, but couldn’t find the will to care. The man he’d been dreaming about, spending every waking and non-waking moment obsessing over, was actually interested in him too.

All his fantasies were flashing before his eyes, Derek’s muscles now completely exposed to him. He frantically pawed at him, trying to feel and memorize every millimeter of the beautiful body before him, like every inch was another drop of water in his achingly dry mouth.

“Hey, hey,” Derek whispered. “Patience. Not everything can happen at once, remember, one step at a time.”

Spencer took a moment to breathe and look into the warm eyes he’d been drowning in. Only for a moment, though, as he had a lot he wanted to do, starting with kissing his way down this man’s chest.

Derek laughed a little at Spencer’s impatience when he placed his hands on his broad shoulders and lips on his burning hot skin. He didn’t mind, though. Unexpectedly, the young man knew how to use his mouth. He couldn’t wait to explore that particular skill set some more.

Within the next few minutes, bodies were slammed into walls, forced to the ground, and pushed further down into the floor than was previously thought possible. The echo of the room only amplified the intoxicating sounds and the wall of windows overlooking the campus only increased the arousal.

Spencer would have a new appreciation for the musty smell and sweat induced humidity in the room from now on.

The tension for the remaining month before the NATs graduated was unbearable. Harold made sure to point out the nauseating amount of glances passed between the two men, but was respectful enough to not point it out to everyone. He tried to deny anything had happened, but Harold wasn’t having any of it and let Spencer know he was a lousy liar, something he definitely needed to work on.

Come graduation day when all NATs would be receiving their department assignments, Derek made sure to personally hand Spencer his.

He carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the sheet of paper with one bolded line reading: “Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Spencer immediately looked up and locked eyes with Derek. He simply smirked in return.

Maybe his fantasy of having something more with the agent would become a reality after all.

-

Taglist

@90spumkin

[writefightandflightclub]

We’d better run (Santi x GN reader)

Author’s note: There’s not a lot to it. Just a quick little Santi blurb, with a cosy NYE trope - that man needs someone to kiss at midnight. Bonus trope of meddling friends. 😀

Rating: 18+ to be safe. It’s mature but not explicit. (Steam but no smut.)

Warnings: alcohol consumption + tipsy squad. Making-out. Swearing.

GIF: by @ithinkwehitametaphor​

Song inspo: Kiss U Right Now (thanks @wowjeena for sending this in an ask- hope it’s ok to tag you!)

The atmosphere was jubilant, and your squad was equally so. This crummy dive bar felt like heaven, even as the aroma of bad beer spiked in your nostrils, and as you danced with your soles sticking to the claggy floor.

You all drew some stares - amidst the other people on the dance floor dressed in their best party ensembles, you had crashed in wearing a baseball cap and a ratty old band t-shirt, four burly men in tow. A series of juvenile whoops (and even a howl from Benny) had announced your arrival as you crashed through the double doors.

“Run! We’d better run!” you had called earlier.

With only a matter of minutes remaining until midnight, you had inspired the boys to sprint several blocks from Frankie’s place. You had refused - at the last minute- to stay in on NYE, and had insisted you wanted to dance. Really dance, without worrying about smashing the TV in Frankie’s cramped living room as your arms flailed. Santi had backed you up, insisting he wanted to leave too, to find someone to kiss at midnight. So, you had all legged it -pausing only momentarily for Frankie to dry heave over a wall- and you had arrived with breaths still sawing in and out of your lungs, sweat sheening your faces as you all eagerly swarmed the dance floor.

Just like on the battlefield, collectively, you were a force, the whole throng noticeably shrinking back from your energy, and being pushed imperceptibly to the margins of the floor to make room for you, as if your happiness was so big it crowded everything else out besides those in your bubble.

Even in your tipsy state, you clocked the sudden interest in your group as the newest arrivals to the bar, patrons’ eyes roving over your figures in gratitude for some fresh prey this evening. You had no doubt Santi wasn’t the only one in search of a kiss at midnight - there appeared to be plenty of people on the prowl, in fact. You noticed a few women settle their gaze on Santi in particular as he bust his over-the-top moves, replete with plenty of thrusting and hip wiggling. His knees would hurt tomorrow, but that ass doesn’t quit.

What can you say? He knows his assets, and he knows how to work them.

Even so, as they eye him, you cannot find it in you to be jealous, and it doesn’t occur to you to try to covet the attentions of your long-time crush. Instead, laughter freely spills out of you as the boys spin you between each of them, chaotically ricocheting you across the dance floor, and before long you can barely even dance from laughing.

In the midst of it all you have a mushy moment, surveying the faces of your friends -your best friends- all of your eyes creased and hearts smoothed with happiness. You laugh even as Frankie doubles over from exertion, and especially as Benny strips his t-shirt off, circling it above his head to welcome screams from the crowd, acting like some ostentatious small town rock star. Will is sober as all hell but still getting into it, and making sure to video the whole thing on his cell; no doubt so he can make you all cringe as you massage your sore temples in the morning and he looks on - fresh as a daisy.

Your eyes fall to Santi next, gaze locking with his for the briefest of moments, and this is happy too, watching your friend boogie... except, the happiness you feel when your eyes land on him hits different. Hits deeper. Santi always hits different, even if you’re too stubborn and too afraid to admit it.

You pick up where you had left off with him over at Frankie’s, after the pilot had predictably started busting out the Fleetwood Mac tunes. You and Santi try desperately to outdo each other’s moves, each taking it a notch higher and becoming more and more ridiculous, until you barely recognise the movements your body is making. You reckon you are making history, and dancing moves previously undocumented on Earth.

As you move, you are being crushed closer and closer together by the throng which gradually encloses around you once more. In this tighter space, your hands fleetingly find each other’s bodies. Your hands fall on his shoulders to steady yourself when the crowd jostles you. His hand finds yours to twirl you, or your hands settle on his chest or at his waist. You care not that he is clammy with sweat beneath his t-shirt, noting only that he feels warm and sturdy under your touch. Still, you are careful not to linger, and you quickly snap your touch away, as comfortable as it feels to be in contact with him. As right as it feels.

The whole bar seems to buzz around the two of you, causing you to brim over with a warm, fuzzy feeling which you feel from your core to the tips of your fingers. It is the sense of memories being forged, you think - of a night to remember in the making.

You continue to ricochet chaotically around the dance floor with your buddies, as you are torn from one dance to the next, the loud and jubilant rock music pounding through your chest from the speakers, and collectively you seem to gravitate towards it as it pulses you deeper and deeper into the throng.

You are hot, you are sweating -your t-shirt clinging to your torso now- and your legs ache. Your throat stings from belting out the lyrics, but you are desperately and furiously happy.

In moments, more shots are passed around by Frankie, and you clink glasses, half of the amber liquid spilling on to your top as someone dances into you, and the other half burning pleasantly down your centre. Santi’s eyes snag on yours again for another fleeting moment, and you could swear his gaze burns pleasantly down to your centre too.

“30 seconds!” the bar back shouts via the PA system, and a cheer erupts all through the room, a multitude of hands being propelled into the air at once, as if the crowd is one heaving entity, and you all jump and yell and sing until you feel like you can’t anymore, but you do anyway.

“Kiss me!” Santi yells, his eyebrows raised, and his stance wide, his arms raised up until his body creates an “x” shape. “Some fucker had better kiss me when the ball drops,” he announces, loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Pope - your balls should have dropped already, man,” Will laughs, and then you are laughing with him, slapping him on the shoulder and creasing forward in mirth, your face and cheeks and jaw already aching with joy.

“Ten!”

You gasp as the word erupts through the bar, the countdown commencing, and you throw your arms up again, screaming out in excitement.

“Somebody fuckin’ kiss me!” Santi yells, louder this time, more urgently, looking around the room, and you catch a series of micro-expressions unfold, as if in slow motion. You notice the group of women by the bar teeter on the edge of responding to his call- a curl of lips, a tick of an eyebrow, a half-hungry stare and red-lipsticked mouth sucking on a straw. You see Benny, too, about to give Santi more then he bargained for if he doesn’t shut up.

Meanwhile, you simply keep dancing.

“Five!” the voice calls, over the blasting music.

Still, you keep dancing, as if it’s essential. As if the motion itself will propel you into the new year.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Frankie is spinning you and thrusting you directly into Santi’s arms. You fall forwards, thrown off balance, grabbing on to his shoulders to regain your footing, and his hands fly around your waist to steady you, his smile wide and disarming. You dip your head to laugh into his shoulder, still singing along to the song.

“One! Happy new year!”

And, as rousing cheers sound out all around you, suddenly it is Santi crowding everything else out. He grins and grabs your face in his hands, pulling your lips to his for an innocent and celebratory smack on the lips, knocking both the caps from your heads simultaneously. They lie discarded on the floor, soon trampled out of sight; forgotten as Santi plants his kiss. His stubble is alarmingly rough against you, his lips still tainted with the taste of tequila and tang of salt and lime. He’s warm. He’s so warm.He feels so... right.

Suddenly, for the first time in hours, you are no longer laughing. Suddenly, everything no longer seems quite as funny. All of the buzz and the motion and the noise seems to halt around you. There is only Santi. There are only his surprised brown eyes meeting yours, his fingers coming up to his lips as if to understand the sensation he just experienced zip through him, more intense than the burn of tequila, thrumming through him more urgently than the pulse of the music. A happiness deeper than all of the revelry surrounding him.

You note the way your fingers have gradually fisted into his damp t-shirt, as if to pull him closer. You note the way you can’t tear your gaze away from his lips. The way your blood rushes in your ears.

You are torn away from each other quickly, however, snatching you from this intimate, all-encompassing circle and back into the room, Will rushes in to lift Santi by the waist and spin him around, Benny dives in to offer to you an enclosing, shirtless, back-slapping hug which you’re sure rattles your bones. You are even caught up by strangers who embrace you in glee and hope. The atmosphere is electric, and still, it is nothing like the jolt which hit you when Santi’s lips met yours.

Next, your arms find Frankie’s in the crowd and you tug him to you, squeezing him in a heartfelt, urgent hug, grins splitting your faces in two.

The rounds done, and a sudden wave of adrenaline pulling you from your kiss-drunk stupor, you yell a victorious “Happy new year, mother fuckers!”, completely oblivious to Santi’s plight.

That is, until you follow Frankie’s nod and see Santi standing there in the crowd, entirely still as the world blurs around him. He appears entirely fixated on you.

You can’t explain why those familiar eyes of his suddenly give you jitters quite like this, your legs turning to jelly beneath you where previously you were convinced you could have danced until dawn.

So, this time, when Frankie encouragingly pushes you into Santi with soft eyes and a knowing curl of his lips, it hits a little different. You fall into him, clinging on to his shoulders for dear life. His eyes search yours.

“Kiss me,” Santi says earnestly, and this time he is not yelling the words, or urgently seeking some hasty gratification before midnight. He is taking his time with them, these words well-considered and purposeful on his lips. He is not yelling; however, somehow the words seem ten times louder than they did before.

“The ball already dropped, Santi,” you say, voice trembling, just like your legs.

“Damn right. The ball has finally dropped,” Frankie snickers from beside you, referencing the sudden awakening of your feelings, or Santi’s, or both of yours, perhaps. But you both ignore Frankie. There is no-one else in the world right now. Everything else in this crummy dive bar fades to black. So, instead, Santi pulls you closer, your warm bodies chest-to-chest, and his broad, firm hands snaking up and up and up to find your hair.

“Yeah. I know,” he says gently yet smugly, his eyes fixed on your mouth, his pink tongue darting out as if to tempt you. “Kiss me again.”

You gulp, feeling weaker by the moment. “Right here, in front of everybody?”

The corner of Santi’s tempting mouth turns up into a smile, his eyes brewing with a ferocious heat.

“Let them watch,” he purrs sinfully, and a whimper falls from your lips, Santi’s strong hands the only thing keeping you upright -you could swear- as they wrap at your back and clasp you close to him.

At his suggestion, you practically fall on to his lips as if it was pre-destined, and his tongue is plundering your mouth instantly, the taste of him searing all the way down to the pit of you like a shot of fire. He is a potent spirit - the taste of tequila on his tongue as he delves into you, the tang of sweat on his lips like salt, and the bitter rasp of his stubble against your mouth and cheek as you open up to devour him, and willingly have him devour you.

Your sweaty, eager bodies press firmly together, and you fingers travel up; up and up from his shoulders... over the scar at the nape of his neck, over the bobbled chain he wears, over his prickled undercut and into his dark, grizzled curls.

Santi arches his body even more keenly against you, crushing you to him, letting you feel every contour of him. That muscled thigh settled in between yours and his hips thrust towards you, a burgeoning promise pressing up against your core. His shapely chest and the softness of his stomach meeting yours. It feels so good to touch like this, and you desperately hope this touch will not be so fleeting as the last.

As if fearing the same, Santi’s kiss grows, heavy and urgent. Dog tags are crushed up in the space between you too, and the heat of his broad hands press at your back and your neck, the bite of his watch strap cooling on your hot skin as he kisses you like that, right here in front of everybody.

You can’t get enough of him. You want to drink every drop of him down.He’s rough and hot and yet smooth like caramel.

Eagerly, your hands claw into his hair and you instinctively give a gentle tug on his curls. When Santi delivers a gruff, delicious moan into your open mouth in return, he sends a liquid heat all the way down to your core, more potent than the burn of any spirit.

You are drunk on him.

He tastes good.

He feels good.

He tastes good enough, hot enough, satisfying enough that you whimper as he pulls away from you, the both of you panting, foreheads briefly resting against one another as your chests and breaths heave in the tight space between you. And yet, you are still pawing at each other, still unable to satiate yourselves. Needing more.

“Happy new year,” he exhales, with a gentle smirk, and yet words will not come to you yet.

Not until your next thought occurs to you.

“Mmm-hmm. Which of these motherfuckers lives the closest?” you ask urgently, with a sideward nod of your head towards the slack-jawed squad beside you.

Santi’s eyebrow ticks up at you with interest. “Why, you wanna..?”

“Yes,” you state breathily, your voice a husk, pleased he is instantly catching your drift.

“Benny! Keys! Now!” Santi yells urgently, as keen as you are to enact your vision, and his tone is commanding enough that Benny obeys instantly.

Santi palms the keys as they’re thrown and his hand trails down your arm like a lick of flame, coming to clasp your hand firmly in his.

“Wanna get out of here, honey?” he asks, and you smile. You smile until your face aches. You are desperately and furiously happy, and there is nowhere else you would rather go.

In fact, you are very keen to start the new year as you mean to go on. With Santi buried deep in you. His hot, bare, sturdy body entwined with yours - wrapped around you. Kissing you, his tongue surging into you. Loving you, you hope.

“Get out of here, Pope?” you ask with a wink, and he looks at you as if you’re the most stunning sight he’s ever seen, even as your old shirt clings to the contours of you, dampened with sweat. “I think we’d better run, love.”

Then, you each look at the other with a happy, hungry stare, before turning on your heels and legging it out of there, leaving everything else in your wake.

Your happiness crowds everything else out.

Santi crowds everything else out.

Everything else in the crummy dive bar fades to black.

The other boys watch you go, Frankie all-together pleased with his meddling, and happy for his two dear friends. Meanwhile, the repurcussions of Benny’s actions in handing over his keys are just about dawning on him.

“They’re gonna fuck all over my house, aren’t they?”

“Yep,” Frankie responds, slapping him on the back and delivering a throaty, unsympathetic chuckle.

“Maybe you’d better find somewhere else to stay, brother.” Will winks, and Benny shrugs, a confident, undaunted smile inching over his face. In fact, he responds with Santi’s tactic, edging out into the centre of the floor, strutting like the prize fighter he is, and yelling “Somebody kiss me!”

Will and Frankie stand on the sidelines, sharing a gruff chuckle as they watch all of this unfold, until Will nods towards the doorway, where you and Santi exited moments ago. “Do you think they’ll regret that tomorrow?” he worries, his brow furrowing as a less than stable Frankie leans up against his side.

Frankie’s lips curl-up into a smile, and he shakes his head. “Honestly, I only think they’ll regret not doing it sooner.”

You and Santi would probably agree with that sentiment too.

Wholeheartedly, in fact.

Happy new year, motherfuckers.

As for what happened after you left the bar, let’s just say... you definitely started as you mean to go on.

And Santi can go on and on... and then some.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Quarantine: A Love Story {19}

Chris Evans x Reader Series

Warning: Flashback, TRIGGERING CONTENT, Violence, Heavy Cursing, Heavy Angst, Fluff, PLENTY OF WORDS, Plot

**Mention of PHYSICAL ABUSE {ONE HIT} 

DO NOT READ IF MENTIONS OF THIS ARE UNCOMFORTABLE

Words: 7.7k

I hope you guys enjoy this. If you enjoyed this LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG.

As always, thank you for reading!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

Previous Chapters:  Q1 |  Q2 |  Q3 |  Q4 |  Q5 |  Q6 |  Q7 |  Q8 |  Q9 | Q10 | Q11 | Q12 | Q13 | Q14 | Q15 | Q16 | Q17 | Q18  | 

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Chris-

“No. No. Stop. No!”

 Those were the sounds that stirred him from his sleep. Normally he was dead to the world, but since quarantine began, he was a lite sleeper. With you beside him, he found himself somewhere in the middle. He turned his head around to face you; the sleep still fogging his vision.

 “Please, stop. Stop. No. Noo!”

 You were whining now. There was no way this was a good dream; it was a nightmare. You were lying on your back with the sheet stretched across your breasts. Suddenly you began thrashing from side to side. This was more than a nightmare. He jumped into action, springing to his knees from his laying position on his stomach. As he was about to touch you, you flailed your legs out, kicking the sheet off of your body. Your scream was gut-wrenching and piercing. So much so that he could hear the animals in the shrubbery surrounding the cabin stir and rustles through the foliage.

 “Y/N!”

Your arms flung out, and you began physically trying to fight him. He tried to grab hold of your arms to still your body, but you were surprisingly strong—stronger than he’d realized. As he dodged your nails and an onslaught of blows, he grabbed your biceps and held you to the bed.

 “Y/N!”

 That was when your whimpers began as you continued to thrash. Tears rolled down the sides of your face, and his heart sank. He hated seeing you cry.

 “Y/N, wake up!”

 Your body stilled, then your eyes flew open. You didn’t look at him, though. You stared straight up into the ceiling with them wide as if you’d seen the most terrifying thing in the world.

 “Y/N?”

 Cautiously he released your arms. You didn’t move to get up. You didn’t begin to speak either. You laid there staring at the ceiling with tears streaming down your face. Your whimpers increased, and he noticed your body move as if someone were holding you down while you were trying to get up. You shook as he’d never seen anyone shake. It was an immobilized shake.

 He was beginning to freak out and was ready to call Scott at this point. He’d never seen you like this, and he didn’t know what to do. The only logical thing to him was to try to shake you. It was evident to him now that you were not awake, you must have been in a weird in-between state of a dream and a sleepwalking episode. He didn’t even know you sleepwalked.

 “Y/N. Wake up. Come on, baby, wake up.”

 Through his soft coaxing and gentle shakes, you didn’t move. That was when your mouth opened. It looked like a scream, and it should have been loud, but it was silent. There was terror in your eyes; he recognized it. He’d seen something similar to it before.

 “Fuck. Y/N, wake up!”

 Your body lurched, and you bolted upright, and seconds later, sprang off the bed. You darted across the room to the window and nearly ran right into it. He was on his feet in seconds to wrap his arms around your bare midsection pulling you back and away before you injured yourself.

 You screamed again.

 “No, no, no! Don’t touch me. Please don’t hurt me. Please, please, please!”

 He held you still, though you tried to fight your way free. Something in him said, don’t let go.

 “Shh, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”

 His grip around your midsection tightened, and the two of you sank to the floor. The shake of your body was intense. You shivered like a naked woman in the forest at the height of a winter storm. You rambled and repeated the same thing. “Please don’t hurt me.” The only thing he thought to do was something his mother did for him when he was a little boy when he was inconsolable. He sang to you. he sang the only thing he could think you’d like—A Whole New World from Aladdin, one of your favorites.

 With his back pressed to the cool window, he held you to his chest. When you shook uncontrollably, he squeezed tighter. When your shaking decreased, he still held you tight. The fire of your tears that streamed on him continued for what felt like hours. He didn’t bother talking. He just held you and allowed you to continue to ramble the same phrase. When you stopped, he took it as a good sign, but a few minutes later, you began again. Still, he sang, refusing to stop. By the time your body stopped shaking, and your whimpers stopped, he was hoarse, but he didn’t care.

 As quickly as this episode began, you pulled away from him. Instead of protesting, he let you do as you wished. Without even looking back to him, you walked out of the bedroom, grabbing your robe off the floor in the process. He sat there, stunned, speechless, and completely confused as to what the hell just happened.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 -Y/N-

-Seven Years Ago-

 “I’m never going to let you go. Ever. I love you too much.”

 Theo’s voice was thick with emotion, but it was also filled with something else—possession or closer to obsession. Theo’s hand at the nape of your neck tangled in your hair was forceful and spoke of possession. You’d never been afraid of him before, but something said you should be. Over the last few weeks, his actions had gotten more and more erratic. He was late coming home, kept his phone close to him at all times. He even locked himself in the bathrooms when he used it or showered and was more controlling than usual. Every time you confronted him about things, he simply said he had a lot going on at work and was under a lot of stress. You tried to be the perfect girlfriend, you kept the apartment clean, cooked his dinner, held it down at home, and set the sheets on fire, all the while working full time and keeping your life in order.

 Theo brought his hand around to your throat, held it gently, and pulled you to him to claim your lips. The way he kissed you was almost like the way he’d kissed you at the beginning of your relationship—almost. A few hours later, you were in bed with him, plowing away, making your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your nails sink into his skin. The next morning, he was gone before you woke, leaving a simple note in his wake.

 The routine continued like this for weeks. Every time you brought up his weird behavior, he’d tell you how much he loved you, hold you possessively, and put it on you in a way that had you completely mentally fucked for the rest of the day. Then the next day, he’d bring home a gift—a sparkling gift. You knew how MO but dumb and in love and all that.

 “Are you sure this is what you want?” Theo’s kiss on your stomach paused then he looked at you.

 “What do you mean?”

 “Tomorrow is the day. That means ten or so more hours to run for the hills,” you teased.

 “Is that what you want?”

 You stretched and tucked the pillow under your head more. Theo rolled on top of you, wrapped his hands around your wrist, and pressed them to the bed.

 “I’ve already told you. You’re mine. I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

 “I didn’t say I was going; I said you could run for the hills,” you corrected.

 “Never.” His eyes bore into you in a way that made goosebumps flare up all over your skin. You bit your bottom lip.

 “You don’t have to worry, baby. I love you. You’re perfect. We’re perfect together. I want this.”

 Theo stared into your eyes then kissed you passionately. Before things got heavy, Theo pulled away. “This time tomorrow, we’re one day closer to becoming a family.”

 You smiled at the warmth you felt.

 The next day you were both seated in your doctor’s office talking about your options for starting a family. Theo was very open about the fact that he was practically shooting blanks. To some, that would have been a deal-breaker or even a reason to skip protection, but for you—it was neither. You were religious with protection and never really thought you wanted kids. When he brought up wanting them with you, you were stunned, but you couldn’t help but feel flattered and even more enamored with him.

 You listened to the doctor talk about the invitro process, what to expect, and the steps. As he spoke, Theo looked as if he was paying the utmost attention to everything the doctor said. An hour later, you’d made a plan and scheduled the appointment that would change your entire life. Four weeks.

 -Week One-

 Your entire world flipped on a Tuesday night. You’d gone away for business for the weekend on a long trip. You were away for six days making plans for your future together. You planned to come back two days early to surprise Theo. When you arrived at your apartment, the glow of light in the windows was strange to you. Theo should have been asleep; it was after midnight. You pushed it to the side but decided it was the perfect opportunity to surprise and seduce him.

 Quietly you walked inside and heard slow, sultry music. You placed your bag on the floor and quietly walked through the apartment. The music played through the entire apartment thanks to the surround sound system. Even if you took heavy steps, you wouldn’t be heard. Once you looked through the living room, dining, kitchen, and office and saw no Theo, you knew he was upstairs. As you passed the dining room again, you saw a finished bottle of wine but no glass.

 Moving up the stairs, you began taking off your jacket, preparing to take everything else off. As you approached your bedroom door, you began on the buttons to your blouse. When you swung open the door, you expected to see Theo in your bed, either asleep or watching some stupid game on tv. Instead, what you saw had your stomach falling to the floor.

 Theo’s bare ass was facing you with one leg braced on your bed and the other planted on the wooden floor. Everything was silent in your head for a few moments before the sounds of the room filled your ears. a woman’s obnoxious moans filled the room and blended with Theo’s pants and grunts. He was thrusting into her from behind with reckless abandon. You didn’t know how long you stood there watching your fiancé fuck another woman right before your eyes.

 Inside your head, a whole spiel played. You dashed across the room, grabbed your heavy-duty, old-time scissors, and approached at the same time Theo turned. From there, you did the only natural thing, snipped off his dick. Blood spurted everywhere as he screamed bloody murder. Once the woman realized what had happened, she began screaming too. Your response to that was only natural too. You swung out and slashed her face. The two of them dropped to the ground writing in agony as you watched.

 When you shook your head and came back to reality, neither of them knew you were standing there. You were sure you hadn’t made a sound, but she was the one to turn and notice you. Her shriek and panic brought Theo’s eyes to you. The terror that flashed across his face was classic. That was when you moved. Quickly you ran down the stairs, grabbed your jacket and your bag, and ran out of the apartment. You could hear Theo’s shouts behind you in the house, but you didn’t stop. Once inside your car, you sat there in complete shock. Before you could put the keys into the ignition, there was Theo dick swinging pounding on the window.

 “Open the door, baby. Let me explain. Please. It’s not what it looks like.”

 You drove off three seconds later. You fully expected to move on from there and never look back, but love was a funny thing. It often made fools of the smartest of women. You were no exception. Two weeks later, after countless attempts of apologizing, pleading, bargaining, and begging, you took him back. He was on his best behavior for a week. He sat through your arguing, the death glares you gave him, and your questioning. You could tell he hated every second of it, but you didn’t care.

 Then your life flipped again. He was late coming home from work, and you were ready to claw his eyes out. You’d tried to keep your mind off of the possibility of what he was doing. You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt that he was working late and lost track of time. You tried and, for the most part, was successful. That was until he came home. He was clearly drunk. You could smell the Gin coming off of him. He smelled like he’d bathed in it rather than water. He reeked. Maybe you wouldn’t have exploded if he’d come in with an apology, but he came in singing some stupid bar song that set you off.

 Still, you gritted your teeth and continued working in your office. When he came into your office and had the nerve to come around to kiss you, you smelled the perfume that mingled with the alcohol. You saw red. You’d had enough and didn’t bite your tongue letting him know how pissed you were. It was like oil and fire. Once you spat your venom, he was triggered and went off on you. he criticized you for how you’d been behaving the last few weeks, compared you to a prison warden, and even insinuated that you were insecure. That made you even angrier, and when he had the audacity to say you should focus your attention on fucking him better than she did to make him stay, you blew up. Your hand swung out and connected hard with his cheek. You’d never slapped someone so hard.

 The house was silent. Theo’s face was turned from you in the position your hand left him in. you didn’t predict what came next. Theo swung around and connected his own closed fist hit to your face. The force of the blow sent you falling to the floor knocking over a lap in the process. Everything was hazy, but you made out Theo climbing on top of you to slap you twice before he wrapped his hands around your throat. Everything went black then.

 When you woke up, you didn’t know what where you were or what had happened. The only thing you knew was that your head was pounding as if you were in the middle of a beat down circle, and everyone was pounding hammers on your skull rather than rattling you with punches and kicks. It took you several long minutes to open your eyes and even more time for your vision to steady. Once it did, you saw a huge bouquet on the pillow beside you. The pain was indescribable, but you managed to sit up against the headboard.

 All around you, there were flowers of every color and classification--reds, yellows, pinks, oranges, purples, and even whites. Every few seconds, your vision blurred then returned to normal. For the life of you, you couldn’t remember anything from the last few days. It was blank. Theo walked into the room, carrying two more bouquets and a sheepish look on his face. He began to ask for something, but you interrupted him, asking what happened. From there, his disposition changed. He said you were robbed, said he came home, and you were passed out on the floor beaten with everything disheveled. You couldn’t remember, so you went with it. He even took you down to the police station to file a report.

 The next two weeks passed in a haze. Your brain just didn’t want to function properly. The more you tried to remember what happened, the more the memories eluded you. It frustrated you beyond belief, but Theo never let you dwell on it too much. While he was the perfect boyfriend, you saw cracks in his demeanor. He was more controlling than usual and was even more glued to his phone. Sometimes the things he said always gave you a feeling that there was a hidden meaning. The night you found him staring at you in the dark was the night you felt the first official stirs of fear.

  -December 2013-

 It was ten o’clock when your memories came back. The lamp in the living room dropped and shattered, creating the loudest sound you’d ever heard—or so you thought. In seconds you were transported back to that night. You stood there in terror, watching it all play out like it was the first time. The more you remembered, the more your body shook. The more you saw, the more fear filled you. Once you remembered him hitting you and climbing on top of you, everything stopped.

 A boiling rage that you’d never felt before filled you and battled with the immense fear you felt. He’d hit you, and it wasn’t a tiny slap or an accident. He’d punched you, then climbed on top of you to continue to hit you. When it all came back to you, you stood there with his eyes on you. It was like he knew you remembered.

 “Y/N--,” he slowly began as he took cautions steps to you.

 You stepped back.

 “Okay, hold on. Baby.”

 You took a few more steps back, not daring to take your eyes off of him.

 “Don’t, baby—okay. It was an accident.”

 “Accident?”

 “Yes, an accident.”

 Your back bumped into the wall. “Accident? Theo, you punched me!”

 “I didn’t mean to. You just kept shouting and accusing me, and I got angry and snapped. I didn’t mean to.”

 The more he spoke, the more scared you became. The more fear you felt, the angrier you became. They were now warring powerfully within you.

 “You didn’t mean to?!”

 Your shout boomed off the walls. You saw his intention, and before he actually moved, you sprang into action, running to the kitchen for a weapon. Once you touched a knife, Theo was there turning you, yanking it from your hand to clatter on the floor. He held your throat and squeezed.

 “Jesus, Y/N. Why do you have to be like that? Now I’m angry.” His second hand joined the first, and his grip tightened.

 “It was an accident. I didn’t mean for it to happen. You can’t hold it against me. You can’t hate me for it. I don’t know what I’ll do if you hate me, dewdrop. You got me so angry. You shouldn’t make me angry like that. I can’t—I can’t control--.”

 He sounded erratic and crazy, and the way he looked at you told you just how far gone he was.

 “Don’t leave me. No, you won’t leave me. You will stay. Won’t you, Y/N? You will stay with me. Stay and have our baby. You’re mine, all mine. Do you hear me?”

 His voice became more forceful. His grip became more forceful and dangerous. Feeling your windpipes closing, you gasped for air, trying to not blackout.

 “Tell me you’re all mine. Tell me you won’t go. Tell me!”

 You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

 “Tell me!”

 Theo released your throat, but only a little. You took a slow deep raspy breath, one that hurt.

 “Tell me, or I swear I’ll kill myself and I’ll take you with me so we’ll be together forever. Tell me, or I swear I’ll use this knife.”

 “I’m yours,” you forced out.

 “What?”

 “I’m—yours.”

 “And you won’t leave.”

 Theo stared in your eyes, and from the look in there, you knew he was serious. He would kill you and then himself.

 “I won’t—leave.”

 Theo released your throat and clung to you, holding you tightly. You didn’t dare move.

 You had to go on as if it was business as usual. The rest of the night, you watched him. As you served your dinner and sat across from him, he looked normal. He looked like he hadn’t beaten the shit out of you a few weeks ago or that he hadn’t threatened to kill you and himself if you didn’t stay. You didn’t know who he was. You doubted you ever did. Theo went on telling trivial stories of work or things with his friends and even reminiscing on memories of the two of you. The entire time you couldn’t eat, you just sat there until he forced you to but not with words—only looks.

 You didn’t sleep that night, or the next, or the next. You doubted he did either. He forced you to sleep beside him as if nothing had happened. Forced you to carry on with your life as you’d planned. He expected you to go through with the embryo implantation. He expected you to fall in line. Terror made you comply. Intelligence made you pretend to comply. You played the role he wanted—the happy fiancée, the soon to be mother. You played the hell out of the role. The night before the procedure, Theo made a mistake. He brought you gifts, roses, chocolates, wine, all your favorites. You knew his endgame. He wanted sex. This was his MO. He always thought this was the way. There was no way in hell you would do that, so you did the only smart thing—drugged him.

 You watched as he drank his rum. Watched as he had one, two, and three all back to back. Unbeknownst to him, you’d roofied them all. Only you didn’t plan on using this to have your way with him. When the time came, he resisted the effects of the drug. You could see the drowsiness in his eyes and guessed his body was feeling heavy thanks to the lethargic way he moved, but still, he persisted in pursuing you. When he backed you onto the bed and proceeded to kiss along your neck, collar, and chest, you cringed in a way that usually would have shown him you were not feeling it. In his current state, you doubted he cared.

 For what felt like an eternity boiled down to a few terrifying minutes where Theo continued trying to strip you and lay his affections on you. When you felt the full weight of his body drop to yours, you paused and waited to see if he would pick back up. Five seconds passed, no movement, then ten, and twenty. When you couldn’t take it anymore, you shoved his body off of yours and sprang from the bed to bang back into the wardrobe. You looked down at him, fearing the loud clatter would have stirred him. It hadn’t.

 Thinking you were home free, you rushed out of the door and frantically tried to get down the stairs. As you took the first few steps, you felt a hand grab your hair and pull you back. There was Theo—an angry but sluggish Theo.

 “Where’re you going, dewdrop?”

 At this moment, your voice not to work. Instead, you tried to yank yourself from him. The pain at your scalp was intense. He refused to let go.

 “Where—are you—going?”

 He wobbled and lost his balance for a moment. That reprieve had his hand loosen in your hair. You turned and dashed down the stairs. Every one you took, you heard his sloppy thuds behind you. When you were halfway down, he felt him shove you down the remaining. You slid, tumbled, banged, and screamed all the way to the bottom of the stairs. The pain in your body said stay down, but you could guess what was in store for you.

 Gathering what was left of your strength. You picked yourself up, limped to the hooks beside the door, grabbed your bag, and your keys, and bolted out the door.

 “Y/N!”

 He sounded furious. As he screamed, you felt the fire of his words as if it were the flames of hell at your back. Once outside, you ignored the pain in your ankle, your leg, back, ribs, and head and pushed forward. As soon as you got to your car, you opened it and jumped inside to press the lock button in the knick of time. Theo banged and pounded on the glass.

 “Open the door, baby.” He sounded drunk.

 “Come on, let’s go inside and talk about this.”

 You didn’t. When he realized you wouldn’t, he banged the glass harder, shattering it. As he reached inside, you pressed your foot on the gas. The sudden movement of the car jolted him enough to send his body more onto the vehicle. That change of his body had the side of your car bumping into him as you sped down the street like a thief in the darkness of night.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 -Present Day-

 Taking a deep breath as if you hadn’t had one in centuries, you gasped and panted, pulling yourself from the memories. From behind the trees, you could see the faintest streaks of pink, yellow, and purple. The sun would be rising soon. You stared at the sky for a few moments and allowed the peacefulness in it to work on the tension inside of you. As you stared at the sky, you remembered what just happened, and you cringed. Looking to your left, you laid your eyes on a very still Chris who was staring right back at you.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You flinched and immediately pressed your hands to your face hoping to hide your tear-streaked, puffy-eyed state. “What the fuck, Chris!”

 You wiped your cheeks and sniffled, but you didn’t look at him right away.

 “I’m sorry. I thought you knew I was here. I didn’t want to leave you alone. It didn’t feel right. I was worried. I’m sorry,” Chris rushed out.

 You weren’t angry. You were embarrassed. No one knew about this or had ever seen you like this. No-one except your family and Scott, but he only knew the gist of things. He’d seen you at the height of your worst. You had no idea how you could face him.

 “Y/N,” Chris softly began. A few seconds after he spoke, you felt his hand touch your knee. You flinched.

 “Don’t touch me!” The second you said the words, you automatically felt like an asshole.

 “All right, I’ll stay over here. I’m sorry.”

 You groaned. Did he have to be so sweet right now? A few minutes passed in silence with your head turned to the right. You felt shame, fear, sadness, regret, and a deep yearning for the woman you used to be. You fought back the tears that wanted freedom and tried to get past this vulnerability you hadn’t felt in years. Taking another deep breath, you bit down onto your bottom lip. You didn’t want to breakdown any further. He was probably thinking you were a nutcase and wondering why he even wanted to get you into bed, you thought.

 Almost an hour passed before you slowly turned to look at him. He was staring out into the trees, sitting there as patiently as ever. He didn’t look to be in a hurry, but he looked like his thoughts were far away. You could guess what he was thinking.

 “Aren’t you going to ask?”

 With his head still facing forward, he answered. “Nope.”

 The answer stumped you for a few seconds.

 “Why?”

 “Because, if it’s something you want me to know Y/N, you’ll tell me. If it’s not, you won’t. I’m not here to make you do anything you don’t want to do. I’m not here to force you to do things, test you, lie to you, or hurt you. I don’t want to do any of those things. I’ve told you that,” Chris said with his eyes still forward. As he said the last sentence, he looked at you.

 You were able to hold his gaze for a few seconds before you scrunched your face and pressed your forehead to your knees that were bent underneath you. After another few minutes, you took another deep breath. For the last few weeks, he’d been trying to prove that. Since you became intimate, you’d gotten the vibe that he really wasn’t the asshole you’d pegged him as. He was a good guy on the surface and possibly an even better one underneath all the bullshit he projected as his true self. Ms. Lisa was right, you thought. Realizing it had your heart skipping a beat.

 “You have to come out and see the changed world if you want to move forward. You’ve been at a standstill pretending nothing had happed, and you hadn’t gone through trauma. You know the first step, babygirl.”

 Then, your father’s words were harsh though you knew he spoke them with love. When he’d spoken them, you weren’t ready to hear them, let alone face what they truly meant. Were you now?

 “The only way to know if you’re ready is to take the leap. See how it feels.”

 Your dropped your head back and stared at the sky while taking a few calming breaths.

 “My last relationship was—less than ideal,” you began while keeping your eyes glued above. You searched for the right words to follow up with, and minutes passed before you found them. It almost seemed like too much to tell him everything. It felt like if you did, then you’d be bare before him. Your walls would be gone, and he would have unadulterated access to your very core. He could then do what he chose. You’d made that mistake before.

 “His name was Theo. I moved to Connecticut for him.” You scoffed at that little fact. You couldn’t believe you’d done it and had since regretted it tenfold.

 “We um—we moved quickly looking back. At the time, it seemed normal. We got a house together, lived together, did everything together. Um—he um--.”

 You struggled to find the right words. You didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t spin you like a stupid victim. Groaning, you decided to give up.

 “Long story short, he turned out to be a liar.” You sighed out and rubbed your forehead.

 “I’m sorry.”

 You scoffed and looked away.

 “I mean it. I know a lot of people throw those words around all the time, but I mean them. You didn’t deserve that at all.”

 Deserve, you thought as you looked back to him.

 “You deserved so much better,” Chris filled in.

 You almost laughed hearing him say what you deserved. You then remembered his words in his room. It was then you made the decision to talk about it.

 “We were planning on having a family. Our wedding was coming up, and we began the process of in vitro,” you began.

 You could feel his shock, and you knew you had his undivided attention.

 “He’d been acting weird for a while, and I noticed, but I didn’t bring it up. I just pushed it to the side and ignored it. I didn’t think he would ever do anything behind my back because of everything we had going on. So, I was the perfect girlfriend, cooked, cleaned—everything. One night he came home really late after weeks and weeks of me suspecting something was going on. I was pissed, and I confronted him. we screamed and argued, and he--.” You looked back to the sky, closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. “He hit me,” you finished.

 “Son of a bitch,” Chris grumbled.

 “I was dazed. I couldn’t even get up. He—he climbed on top of me and kept hitting me. I blacked out and woke up, but I didn’t remember what happened. He told me we were robbed, and I was attacked by robbers. He even went as far as to bring me to the police station to file a report.”

 You paused, trying to get over the fresh wave of emotion that washed over you.

 “For weeks, I couldn’t remember, and he went on like life was normal, and he was innocent. Day after day, night after night. When I remembered I freaked out and ran to the kitchen for a knife, he was behind me and grabbed my throat, swore he’d kill me, then kill himself, he—he made me promise I wouldn’t leave him, made me believe he would kill me.”

 The heat beside you intensified. You would have chanced a glance at him, but you were too chicken shit to do it.

 “For the next few weeks, he was controlling and terrifying. I barely slept. If he slept with me, he locked the door from the inside and kept a key on him. He kept tabs on me at all times. I felt like—a prisoner. One night I managed to drug his drinks, and he passed out. I made a run for it, but he woke up, chased me, and pushed me down the stairs when he couldn’t stop me. I barely got away that night, and I haven’t looked back since.”

 The silence was heavy. It felt like the pressure in the air was just compressing right on top of your head.

Chris didn’t speak right away. He didn’t speak for countless long minutes. When you chanced a look at him, his jaw was tightly clenched, and his eyes looked dark, almost black. That was alarming for you considering how blue they usually were.

 “I’m--,” Chris began before you cut him off.

 “—Please don’t say you’re sorry. It’ll drive me bat shit, and I don’t know if I can handle going even crazier than I am right now, and I doubt you’d be able to look at me the same ever again. Although, I already suspect we’re there,” you ranted.

Silence returned.

 “I was going to say I’m furious at what you’ve had to go through.”

 Your head snapped to him.

 “I never knew—never even fathomed, and now that I do—a lot makes sense,” Chris began. He audibly sighed, and as he did, his shoulders sank.

 “I don’t need your pity, Chris.”  You made a move to get up and walk away, but he was there to stop you before you got to the doors leading inside.

 “I don’t see anything to pity. Jesus, Y/N. I’ve always thought you were the strongest woman. When I see you, I am always in awe of you. You’re so damn smart, so funny, and unapologetically real. I’m amazed. I don’t pity you, not one bit.”

 As he spoke, his hands said a lot more. He lifted them and waved them around for emphasis but what you really paid attention to was how many times he reached out for you. Every time he did reach out, he stopped himself by balling his fists to then lowers his hands then do it all again. You took notice of how much you actually wanted him to touch you. You were a mess.

 Groaning, you turned your back to him, looked back to the trees, and wove your fingers on top of your head. On one side, you wanted to leave, go back to the guesthouse, and bury yourself under the blankets for a day or two, all the while ignoring everything that happened. There was even a side of that side that wanted to pack up and go back to Boston and forget the lines you’d crossed during this quarantine. The other side wanted you to just give in to someone comforting you, someone being there for you who seemed to not want anything from you besides intimacy and a chance.

 “I understand,” Chris began. You spun around to face him again.

 “You understand what?”

 “You being afraid to let me in.”

 “I’m not afraid,” you quickly countered.

 “Yeah, you are. You’re terrified, it shows. I’m terrified, and though I’ve been good at hiding it the last three years, I know it shows now. I understand, Y/N.”

 You sighed and sat on the bench and dropped your forehead into your hands. The silence between you stretched again. You didn’t pay attention to it, though. You were miles away in your own head.

 “Y/N,” Chris softly began.

 When you looked up, he sank to the wooden deck in front of you. His bare legs showed the strength in his limbs. While he was slim, he wasn’t puny. He was surprisingly strong.

 “I don’t want to play any games here, or pretend like I feel less than I do or want less than I do.”

 “What do you want?”

 Chris swallowed so hard you saw his Adam’s Apple bob. He didn’t speak all at once; he just stared into your eyes.

 “I want you.”

 They were pretty words; you thought as you looked away.

 “You’ve had me.”

 Chris closed the space between you. He grasped your hand with one of his and used his other hand to cup your jaw, so you were looking into his eyes.

 “This isn’t about sex. I want you.” The way he emphasized the word, dropping his tone lower, making his voice deeper had your belly doing somersaults. You lowered your eyes, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

 “You only think that because of this quarantine and sex bubble,” you whispered, your voice overcome with unexpected emotion.

 “That’s bullshit, and you know it. This has nothing to do with quarantine or this supposed sex bubble, whatever the hell that is.”

 It was your turn to give him a “yeah right” look.  Chris rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw.

 “I will admit that if it hadn’t been for quarantine, I probably wouldn’t have gotten the courage to tell you any of this or be this way with you. I would have still kept my distance because of--,” he took a breath, stroked your fingers, then continued.

 “I wanted you three years ago, two years ago, Christmas, New Year, last week, last night, tonight. I want you, Y/N.”

 You studied him for a few moments longer. The heat and intensity you found there had you entwining your fingers with his.

 “I guess the question is—do you want me?”

 You opened your mouth to speak, but Chris spoke again.

 “Really want me Y/N, not sex, not attention, not a distraction, or a pass time. Me.”

 The vulnerability you saw in him made you want to pull him closer, all the while pushing him further away. You didn’t know what you were searching for in his eyes, but you searched them all the same.  It was the moment of truth. It was time for your first real romantic decision since leaving Connecticut and Theo. With everyone else, you didn’t have to do this; you didn’t think to or want to. You wanted to now. Not only did your body want him, but you wanted him, and it wasn’t your body doing the talking right now.

 You scooted off the bench and into the welcoming space on his lap. By doing this, it made him drop to the deck as you straddled him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

 “How did you get past the ice and shards?”

 Chris’s smile started small but then spread into a full one. “I’ve always seen through the ice.”

 You couldn’t help but snort out. He was so goddamn cocky, and you loved it. You both slowly moved to each other, never breaking eye contact. When you were but centimeters apart, Chris stopped. You knew he was giving you control to decide what you do, and where you go from there. When your lips pressed to his, neither of you moved at first. After a few seconds, it was you that teased his lips to kiss him sensually. When you felt his tongue swirl around yours, you moaned. From there, it was a chain reaction, one that was inevitable when the two of you got close like this.

 Before either of you could get too carried away, you pulled away and rested your forehead on his. Both of you panted, trying to catch your breath.

 “Slow and steady,” Chris whispered.

 Your eyes met his. You nodded your agreement.

 “Slow and steady.”

 He smiled and kissed your lips once, twice, and a third time before he stood with you in his arms. It always amazed you that he was this strong. You were by no means stick and bones. You had shape, curves, and an ass. Nevertheless, he always handled you as if you weighed as much as a down pillow. Chris walked inside the cabin, passing the box you’d brought with you.

 “Wait.”

 You grabbed it and held it out to him. “What is this?”

 Chris grinned. “You haven't opened it yet?”

 “I wasn’t sure if I should,” you admitted. You’d debated it for days, and it was driving you insane.

 “It’s yours. You absolutely should have opened it.”

 “What is it?”

 Chris walked into the bedroom and laid you on top of the mattress before he dropped onto the bed beside you. You sat up, slid to the headboard, and fiddled with the box.

 “It’s not going to open itself.”

 You took a deep breath and untied the pretty yellow bow-tied ribbon that was artistically tied around the box. You glanced at him again before you flipped the top off of the box. When you did, there was a simple notecard in your favorite color—yellow.

 “You are beauty; you are grace.” As you read the words, your fingertips traced over the embossed letters. You bit your bottom lip and chanced looking at him. Chris attentively sat there patiently waiting for you to lift the notecard.

 When you did, laying on top of its cotton bed was a necklace that housed some impressive diamonds all across the chain. When your eyes got to the charm, your jaw dropped. A pair of golden wings rested on the cotton. The intricate design of the wings had you lifting the box closer to your eyes to get a better look. You were not disappointed. It was breathtaking and clearly expensive. While the chain housed smaller diamonds, the wings had much larger ones.

 “Wow.”

 You traced your fingertips across it then flipped it over. There you saw engravement. “She flies by her own wings.”

 You looked back at him but didn’t speak.

 “Do you remember that time Scott and everybody took you out to celebrate that major project you landed? You thought it was just going to be a one-time thing, but it led you to being the reoccurring talent for that Broadway production company. I remember opening night we all went and bam your poster, header, and designs were everywhere in Time’s Square. Do you remember that?”

 His smile was so wide you couldn’t help but smile and nod.

 “We were all so excited and so damn proud. I was so proud of you. I remember just thinking nothing, and no one would stand in your way from getting where you wanted to. I thought you were—incredible.” He shook his head as if snapping himself out of the memory.

 “I had this in my pocket the entire night. We were at the show, then dinner and walking around the city. I held on to it, trying to find the right time to give it to you, but—the right time never presented itself. So—I’ve held onto it this whole time.”

 “Really?”

 He nodded. “Wow, that sounds pretty pathetic now,” he said, chuckling to himself.

 “No, stop. It doesn’t sound pathetic. It sounds sweet. You’re sweet. This is so beautiful.”

 “Do you like it?”

 Nodding your head, you stared at the present some more.

 “I really, really like it. Thank you.”

 “There’s more.”

 “Oh, is there?”

 Chris nodded and nudged his head to the box. Sensing his meaning, you lifted the bed of cotton to see a beautiful diamond and gold charm bracelet.

 “So promise rings are a thing, but I also know a ring of any sort might have you run for the hills even if it was just a promise ring,” Chris began. You laughed and shook your head.

 “You’re not funny, Christopher!”

 “I am, and you know it. Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted—I thought a bracelet would be an acceptable replacement.”

 “So, it’s a promise bracelet?”

 He nodded and slid closer to you. “It’s simple. You have a cabin charm for here, the beach charm for the beach, but after our last night on the beach, it’s for that.”

 You softly smiled and bit your bottom lip. “And you have the fingers crossed charm for these promises. I will not hurt you; I will not disrespect you. I promise I can be the man you deserve.”

 “Chris, this wasn’t necessary.”

 “It was. Words are cheap, actions speak. I want this to speak. I want you to look at it and know. I’m in.”

 His words echoed in your head as you let them marinate. He was in. you stretched your wrist out to him and held out the bracelet. Chris smiled, took the jewelry, and fastened it around your wrist.

 “It looks good on you.”

 “Eh—diamonds are a girl’s best friend.”

 You smiled and leaned to him to press your lips to him. “Thank you; I love them.”

 “Let me put the necklace on.”

 You turned to him and let him clasp it. When he finished, you turned to him and felt the baby’s fist-sized pendant. “How does it look?”

 Chris looked far away while he stared at the necklace.

 “Chris.”

 “Like it’s home.”

 The man was going to be the death of you. Death by butterflies in the stomach. It was a thing; you were sure of it. You were turning into a puddle of lukewarm water, and it was an unfamiliar feeling.

 “Let’s watch the sunset,” you suggested.

 Chris slinked up the bed to you, then laid down under the covers at the same time your head found its place on his chest. Chris wrapped his arm around your shoulder, and the two of you, in perfect silence and relaxed comfort, watched one of the most beautiful sunrises that you could remember.  

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

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***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. I’m sorry.***

[lustbile-archive]

[12:18AM]

part 2 to this -> [1:35AM]

smut (requested)

If given the question, ‘what are your strengths?’ you would like to think you would be able to say that you jump at every opportunity no hesitation. A door of opportunity opens, and you would be the first one to run through. And maybe that would be the truth if you had never met Jaebeom.

He had always been quick to fall into a deep sleep after your high ramblings, and post orgasm, he was no different. Of course, he helped in cleaning up and making you comfortable, but as soon as that was done, he became the human equivalent of a brick. You, on the other hand, fell asleep slowly, naive ideas about the sleepy love making that you hoped to make in the morning circling overhead, mixing with the residual smoke that lingered in the air.

But dreamy, smoke induced thoughts were never good at translating into a sober brain.

You woke up before him, something not out of the ordinary, but something about what had happened only hours before, combined with the way his face was softened with sleep, placed a lump in the back of your throat. There was no way to explain the panic that settled in your chest, or the spark of anxiety that ran through you as you pulled on your underwear, not an explanation that you were willing to face at the moment at least.

You were dressed and out his door in less than twenty minutes, trying not to think of the next time you would have to be in the same room as him.

____________________________________________

The next gathering of your friends was sooner than you had anticipated for, and far sooner than you would think you would be ready to face Jaebeom after not only sneaking out the morning after your first real hook up with him, but also dodging the come over texts he sent after.

Though, after a couple hours of circling each other like hungry cats throughout the small space of your friend’s living room, he had yet to say anything to you directly.

Avoiding each other to some extent wasn’t out of the ordinary for you two, so your friends weren’t curious or concerned, but they also didn’t know about your one on one meetings and they especially couldn’t feel the heavy weight of his stare that ran every inch of your body through the wispy smoke that filled the room.

You were quick to notice that he uncharacteristically hadn’t touched the few joints that were being passed around, regardless of being the one who had provided them to the group, and the idea of him being sober the first time you had to face him again, made your equally as sober mind race. Being the only two sober people in a group was weird on its own but pairing it with tension that laid between you made you feel paranoid and naked under his intense glare.

You stood up on shaking legs, muttering to the few that lingered by your side that you were going to grab a phone charger from the back bedroom, trying your hardest to not let your eyes meet with his. You gave no concern for a response before you were stepping over bodies and scattered trash to reach the hallway.

The time you spent in the bedroom was much longer than necessary to find the charger that you had already taken on more than one occasion, using the time away from the group to even your breathing and calm your heart rate. Once you had relaxed as much as you could, it wasn’t difficult to decide that you should probably leave, the tension between you too much for you to even consider having a good time tonight.

You leave the charger where it laid, shuffling out of the room with your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you tried to think of a solid excuse to be the first one to leave, as it wouldn’t be surprising if the drugged out idiots that lay scattered across the floor found you leaving early as a reason to complain. You didn’t make it far with your slow walk though, when a strong hand shot from the hallway closet and grabbed the fabric of your shirt, the blaring music and low lights that flooded the house being a good cover for the screech you let out.

You don’t think before your arms begin flailing and smacking into the sturdy form that the hand had pressed you against, grunts being knocked into the air. The door slams shut, and your breath picks up to where it was before when your back is pressed into the wall and your hands are pressed by head.

“Are you avoiding me now?” to anyone else his tone would sound completely solid and neutral, but the underlying nervousness that shook his voice was all you could hear. The way his eyes were glossed over in confusion and caution was a stab to your heart when your eyes met.

“No?” your voice is quiet and shakes as you tilt your head back to avoid his stare, your fingers curling to dig your nails into your palms.

“Mhm,” he nods, pressing his body closer to your, “now you’re lying to me. That’s even better.”

Your back straightens as you look forward again, his accusatory tone twisting at your stomach in an uncomfortable way. Your only response to his bitter attitude being a hard glare.

“What?” his grip tightens while he lets out a dry laugh, “You ran out before I woke up, you never respond to my texts, and now you won’t say anything to me when we’re in the exact same room? What do you call that if it’s not you avoiding me?”

“I’m allowed to not want to hang out with you Jaebeom,” your defensive and cold as you continue to blatantly lie, your tone nothing like the one you had always wished you would use when you finally talked to him while sober, “and we never talked to each other at these gatherings anyways so what’s the problem now?”

“What’s the problem?” his eyebrows pull tight together, and you try desperately to ignore the hurt that laces his voice, “The problem is the person I’ve had a thing for as long as I’ve known them, is actively avoiding me right after we finally hook up. That’s my problem.”

You feel the weight of gravity pull on your worn body as you sulk, a look of shame locking onto your features, “I didn’t think you’d care so much.”

His warm breath hits your face as he huffs in defeat, his head gently shaking, “you didn’t think I’d care? Of course, I care. You think I just bring anyone over as often as I bring you? You think I’m letting anyone else in my apartment, smoking them up, and letting them sit on top of me for hours on end until they pass out? What, you think I’ve been doing that for my health?”

You only huff in response, your head rolling to the side to avoid the intensity that swims in his eyes, the blush warming your skin caused by his proximity and your shame.

“Of course, I don’t. It’s only you. It’s always only been you since the first time you came over. You know why?” he pauses until you slowly shake your head, the miniscule movement would have gone unnoticed if he wasn’t in your face, “Because I like you, you idiot.”

You can’t help the laughter that shakes your body and the grin that pulls at your lips, his own laughter rumbling his chest where it’s pressed against you.

“Oh my god, I’m so dumb,” you whine, your back arches from the wall as you squirm in his hold.

“Yeah oh my god,” his hands release your wrists, moving to cradle your face in his hands before he presses his mouth tightly against yours.

You hum in content when his tongue pries your mouth open, your hands taking over his previous position as they grip onto his wrists. Your jaw is slack, and your lips are quickly smeared in your combined saliva as his tongue rolls over yours and knocks against the back of your teeth.

“Wait,” he pulls back, only far enough for your eyes to meet, a look of concern heavy on his face, “you like me too right?”

You can’t help the way you pout in response, his scared boyish tone tugging at your heart, “yes Jaebeom. Of course, I like you.”

“Then why’d you run off?” he sounds bewildered and sad, the tone taking stabs at your heart.

“I panicked,” your thumbs start gently petting at the sensitive skin of his wrists making a shiver shake his form, “We never talked outside of us meeting at your place, and I wanted to talk about where we stood, but after what happened I got this idea in my head that you would only want me for someone to get high with and then fuck,” your eyes slide shut and you shake your head at the recounts of your own paranoia, “I should have just stayed and brought it up when you woke up, and we wouldn’t be here right now.”

He leans his face your press into your neck, his nose nuzzling against the sensitive skin protecting your jugular, one hand dropping to grab your thigh, and pulling it to hook over his hip, “as much as I would have preferred you had stayed, I don’t really mind the position we’re in right now,” he punctuates his words by digging his teeth into your skin, the smile that fills his face can be felt against you.

“Jaebeom,” you whine out, your head knocking against the wall behind you, a hum vibrates against you as his response, “I missed you.”

He pulls away to look at you again, “you missed me hm?” he taunts as he moves to kick at your foot that still stands on the floor, knocking your legs further apart, giving him more room to press against you, “how much did you miss me?”

You can’t control the way your hips jump as he grinds softly against you, a high-pitched plea falling from your lips.

His hand runs down your thigh, pushing under your skirt to grab at the waistband of your underwear, “I’m gonna give you what I wanted to that morning,” he all but growls, pulling at the flimsy fabric until you have to drop your leg back onto the floor. He puts no pause on bringing it back to its place on his hip once your underwear falls to the floor.

The hand on your face pets at your skin, his thumb pressing gently into your temple. The soft touch distracting you from his hand traveling to the space between your thighs, a sharp gasp breaking the air when his fingers press into where your arousal spills. If it weren’t for his hips pressing against you and your thigh locked tightly around him, you would have fallen to the floor.

His fingers pull up to dig into your clit as his teeth bite into his bottom lip. The roughness of his movements against you making your eyes roll back into your head. There’s a sudden shift in the air of the cramped closet. A feeling of sweet confessions warping into pants of desperation.

“Tell me you want it,” he demands, the hand on your face shifting to dig his fingers on each side of your jaw, locking your head in place, “I don’t think we have a lot of time in here, so tell me you want it baby.”

Your hips circle as you grind into his fingers, as you let out a pathetic whimper, “I want it Jaebeom. Please I want it.”

“That’s all I needed,” his hand falls away to pull at the waistband of his sweatpants, his lack of underwear making his hardened length press immediately into your thigh.

Jaebeom presses as flush against you as possible. The way his dampened head nudges against your clit when his hand wraps around your knee makes you keen. The desperate whine that you let out is the only encouragement he needs before he slowly presses into you.

Your hands fly to grip onto the back of his shirt when his thickness presses against every nerve inside you, the overwhelming feeling making your fingers tighten and your nails dig into the skin of his back. The pain that bites at his skin makes his hips stutter and thrust fully into you with a grunt. The grip on your jaw gets almost painfully tighter, making your jaw fall slack, the sting only matched by the way you stretch around him.

“Should have been fucking you like this this whole time,” his tone is almost angry as he begins to move inside you. His thrusts hard and deep, quiet whimpers spilling out of you with every single one, “dreamed about this pretty cunt every time I had you next to me.”

Smart comebacks swirled in your mind, but unable to leave your mouth from the way he held it open. Instead you just tightly clench around him as your hips move around sporadically and let out a groan.

“Fuck,” he curses through clenched teeth, his pace picking up as you silently sob, your stomach flexing and caving in in pleasure, “will you let me do whatever I want sweetheart?”

You nod to your best ability, tears collecting along your waterline as the feeling of him thick inside you teetering on overwhelming. He happily hums at your willingness as he closes his mouth and licks at his teeth.

His eyes squint, his eyebrows pulling together in thought before he leans his face closer to yours. The pleasure clouding your mind and the suddenness of his action gives you no time to think before he’s opening his mouth to harshly spit into yours. His open mouth quickly follows, laying an open-mouthed kiss on your lips. His tongue darting in, knocking against the back of your teeth, and dipping into the place on your tongue where his spit had collected.

He pulls away long enough to speak, “touch yourself for me. Let me feel you come,” the second his demand is in the air his mouth returns to yours.

Your hand falls from his back, squeezing between your heated bodies to press into your clit. A cry is muffled by his heated mouth at the first touch you place on your sensitive skin. Your shaking fingers are desperate as you recklessly move them back and forth. The promise of an orgasm creeping slowly up your spine and turning your brain to liquid.

You thrash as much as his weight that is pressed against you allows, your free leg bouncing against the floor as tears finally break to run down your face.

It feels like being shocked by electricity when your orgasm hits you suddenly. The leg around his hip tightening, his unrelenting thrusts making you scream into his mouth. Your sporadic motions break you away from his mouth and your head falls to the side, pressing into your shoulder. His fingers refuse to leave your jaw, keeping your mouth hanging open to let every noise fall freely from you. He has the audacity to laugh, an evil glint dancing in his eyes at the way you lose control.

His laughter is short lived when your thrashing and clenching begins to overwhelm him. His hand moves to grip at the flesh of your ass, pulling your hips away from the wall and tighter against his. He’s no longer pulling fully out of you, only gently pulsing as his own orgasm begins to flood his body. Grunts fill the small closet as he comes deeply inside of you, the warmth of his come filling you makes you shiver.

He quickly pulls you away from the wall when his orgasm reaches its end, wrapping his arms fully around you as he falls to the floor as gracefully as he can manage to avoid a more painful collapse that would have probably happened with the weakness that took over your limbs.

You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, pressing your face into his shoulder. He pets the heated skin of your back through your damp shirt as it clings to you. The only sounds in the room your combined panting breaths as he softens still inside you.

“Tell me your mine,” his voice is gravely and unsure, the way he breaks the silence makes you tighten your body around his, “tell me I can have you now.”

“You have me,” your voice quiet when you refuse to pull away from his skin, “you’ve always had me. I’m yours”

[mc-lukanette]

Luka groaned, sitting on the edge of the Liberty and running his fingers through his hair, still lamenting how badly he'd messed up even though a week had passed. Being in his temporary spirit form didn't give him any right to take things as far as he did, yet he'd gone through with it anyway. He imagined that Anarka would've been proud, but to him, that was all the more reason to regret what had happened.

And all for a girl. Taking advantage of his family's chaotic connections to spirits and the like to use it for himself? Granted, he supposed that's what the Couffaine family had always stood for - personal happiness - but that didn't make it right.

In the middle of his mental scolding, he heard a voice call out from behind him. "...U-um, hello?"

Luka stiffened at the familiar voice, but ultimately chose to ignore it. He'd long since gotten used to people seeming to talk to him when they actually weren't, and that 99.99% of Paris wasn't able to even see him anyway.

"Ah—" the voice spoke again. "Y-you! With the highlights!"

He blinked in surprise at that, then looked around for Juleka or just generally anyone with highlights. Finding no one, he finally turned around, noticing the girl - Marinette - staring directly at him from across the Seine. He pointed at himself, just to be absolutely sure, and she nodded at him.

If he had a heart right now, it would've skipped a beat. It didn't make sense. There were limitations to his spirit form concerning who could and could not see him while he was in that state.

The only way she should've been able to see him was if she loved him in some capacity.

He stood, hopping off the edge of the Liberty and floating over to her. There was a certain level of shock and awe in her expression, but she nevertheless stepped back to make room for him to land in front of her.

"Um." She twirled a strand of hair, staring down at the ground. "Sorry, this is all a little weird for me, but you—" She peeked up at him. "You were possessing A-adrien all that time, right...? I-I saw you fly out of him r-right before I was about to kiss—um—you? Adrien? I don't know."

He frowned regretfully. "I'm so sorry. I knew it was his attention you wanted, but I—"

"N-no! No!" she interrupted, flailing her arms at him. "That's..." She fidgetted, toying with the bottom of her shirt. "That's what I came to talk to you about?"

He tilted his head, not understanding but seeing how much effort she seemed to be taking to talk with him.

"I—" She sighed. "This is going to sound so dumb. I don't even know your name, but... s-see, I got to spend some time with Adrien after you left, and it just—wasn't the same."

He imagined it was a stupid question, but couldn't help asking anyway, "Isn't that a good thing? You wanted to spend time with the real Adrien, right?"

Her blush deepened. "I did. I thought I did, anyway, but I mean that it wasn't the same because I liked spending time with you more. I idolized Adrien, but when I got to see the real him..." She slumped, seeming regretful. "I ended up disappointed. All I could think of was when it was you and how calm and comfortable you made me feel. I..."

She met his gaze, her eyes staring into his so intensely that he swore it was having an effect on his physical body.

Rushing out the rest of the words, she stammered, "I-I fell in love with you!"

Luka’s jaw dropped. Had she really just said that, or had he actually died and this was just some sort of afterlife hallucination?

Meanwhile, Marinette looked away in shame, apparently embarrassed by her own confession. "A-anyway, I just had to say that. If the whole possessing thing was just a prank, that's okay. I'm sorry for wasting your time."

He snapped back into focus as she turned away and began to walk off. He reached out in a futile attempt to grab her hand but, failing that, hurried to get in front of her. She stopped - which was great because she could've just walked through him if she really wanted - then looked up at him in confusion.

"It wasn't a prank," he corrected. "Not at all."

"R-really?" she asked, a hint of hope in her voice.

"I'm not the type of person who'd just possess someone, and I knew it wasn't right, but—" His gaze softened, posture relaxing at the memory. "I saw you and that was all I needed. You were a music box begging to be listened to, and I wanted nothing more than to do just that. When I saw you were into Adrien, I thought maybe I could help so you could be happy. I thought I could have him spend time with you or mess around with his schedule, and I tried to excuse it by saying that he'd be happy in the end because who wouldn't be happy with you?" He sighed, the regretful feelings coming back. "But I got selfish. I loved hanging out with you so much that I kept up the act way longer than I should've. I fell for you, and it was only when you were about to kiss me—Adrien—that I realized how much I'd been deceiving you."

She blushed at that. Placing a hand to her heart, clearly touched, she asked, "B-but you just wanted me to be happy? Even though..."

"Yeah." He nodded. "Even if my real body wasn't unconscious right now, you were in love with someone else."

She let out a breath, and he couldn't tell if she was relieved or merely absorbing everything he'd said. It took a few seconds for her to smile, echoing him with, "Were. Past tense."

"Ah—" Right. She'd just confessed to him. "Yeah..."

They stayed in that silence for a moment, Luka watching as the nervousness Marinette had shown before ebbed itself away, her back straightening and her previous shyness disappearing. As if she were having a casual conversation with him, she asked, "Can I have your name then?"

She'd surprised him yet again. It wasn't as if it was a weird thing to ask, given that they technically knew each other in a way, but he was still having a hard time grasping how serious she seemed to be about this. "Marinette, I'm grateful, I'm happy, but I don't have anything to offer you like this." He gestured to himself. "Almost no one can see me but you. I don't know when my body's going to wake up. You can't even touch me."

"That's okay." She giggled. "You were always so respectful of touching me in Adrien's body anyway so it's not like that much will change."

He let out a shocked noise from his throat, unable to believe that she had the capacity to joke when he was bringing up what he felt were extremely legitimate concerns. Yet, there she was, standing confidently in her feelings and doing far too much to him emotionally than should've been possible to happen to a spirit.

He exhaled despite not needing to, mostly just to fill the silence, then replied softly, "Luka."

"Luka," Marinette repeated, beaming at him. "My secret boyfriend. I like it."

Luka was speechless, even as she bid him a fond farewell and walked away. He was glad to be invisible to most of the world, since he was sure he looked stupid standing there. Marinette was not only okay with the knowledge of his deception, but apparently they were dating now?

Eventually, he got himself to move and fly back to the Liberty, returning to his sitting position with very different feelings than before. He passed the time by replaying the scene in his head, just to make sure it really happened and that there was no way he could've somehow made it up.

Juleka returned home within the hour, though he didn't notice her until she was crossing the gangplank with a firm, "Hey."

He looked up, and she was halfway down the steps before her expression contorted into abject horror. She recoiled from him, falling back onto the gangplank and shielding herself with an arm.

"What’s wrong?" he asked.

"Ugh." She made a vague gesture at him with her free hand. "You're radiating mushy love energy. At least do it at the front of the ship where it's not in my face."

That was when it registered with Luka that it was real; that Marinette really showed up, confessed to him, and called him her boyfriend. He broke out into a smile, even as Juleka practically begged him to "tone it down."

"Sorry, Jule," he said, very much not sorry, "I think I'll be playing at full blast for a while."

[lune-hime]

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Tea Time # 2 ~ Shower Mishap

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

So these little Tea Times were written as little filler-memory chapters to place in between the main story line.

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

“Y/N.” Hange drawled. She clumsily attempted to sit cross legged along the dining hall bench, her legs not quite folding correctly. When she almost tipped over the side, Erwin used his quick reflexes to snag her by the arm and place her upright. You sloppily turned your head to give her as much undivided attention that your remaining active brain cells could muster.

“Please enlighten everyone on the shower story.” Her request brought a giddy smile to her lips. Levi immediately cast you a quizzical look, his gaze drowning in beer. Your face heated up like an oiled saucepan but thanks to the excessive drinking it made no difference to your already rosy complexion.

“But it might be too unprofessional for the Commander.” You shot a sassy look at Hange over Levi who was seated between the two of you. Alcohol was quite the bold word choice inducer as you definitely would not have phrased your sentence with so much gusto if you were sober.

“What in the fucking hell  kind of story is this?” Levi asked darkly, his pupils dilated so far they eclipsed their usual silver. There was a preciseness to his phrase despite it being slurred. Indeed, the only soul at the table who knew of your unintentional shower adventure was your former squad leader. Erwin chuckled softly and Mike quirked an eyebrow at you.

“We drink as friends tonight, Y/N. No one will get you in trouble for just telling a story-” Erwin began his explanation calmly but paused when he locked eyes with Levi’s burning glare. It took what was left of his composure to refrain himself from laughing at the tiny fireball across the table.

“But only tell it if you are comfortable doing so.” The commander flashed a dazzling smile before taking a hearty swig of his drink. The man may have been inebriated but he was still so much more put together than the rest of you. Well, with the exception of Mike of course.

“It’s not that bad, don’t worry about it Vivi.” You reassured the steaming man between giggles. You reached up to gingerly pat his cheek a couple times, his glare turning into an intensely childish pout that he would definitely deny later.

“So you’ll tell it?” Hange chittered, practically vibrating with excitement. You nodded lazily, swaying a bit but steadied by Levi’s secure arm around your waist.

“Okay so, it was during my first few months as a cadet-”

↞♞♘↠

You had come to terms with the fact that you were going to be tired on a daily basis. Since you had joined the cadets it was nonstop physical and tactical training that bored into the innermost parts of your brain and body, immersing you in a constant state of exhaustion. Your grandmother’s war stories about her painful life in the military were indeed accurate (well, yours were much less scandalous than hers); it’s no joke how far the organization pushes every limb, muscle, fiber, and atom within your being.

Which was why you couldn’t be happier that you had an hour of free time to shower after your training session before you had to meet your mentor. Plush towel hanging off your shoulder, you rounded the corner of one of the many hallways of the vast compound and practically skipped into the bathing area.

The steam from the showers was thick at first and obscured the space as you passed through the initial chamber to enter the main bathing area. The only element of the atmosphere that told you other cadets were occupying the room was their loud banter and laughter. Only, it wasn’t the feminine voices you were accustomed to hearing and you’re pretty sure you just heard Connie’s na-

“Y/N!?!?!” A voice shrieked, immediately scuttling to the side upon discovering your arrival. When your vision adjusted to the thick steam, your eyes widened in shock when you spotted Eren's very exposed form through the haze.

"Ohmygodohmygod, Eren I'm so sor-" You blabbed, immediately trying to look anywhere but the boy's nether regions. Before the split second it would have taken to cover your eyes, you were startled by an immense figure in your personal space. The shadow gave you zero time to shield yourself from the Michaelangelo’s David that was possibly the cockiest cadet on the premises.  

"Y/N, I didn't know you were so bold. Come to play?" Reiner cooed, smirk widening as he watched your face heat up to the scalding temperature of their showers. He made no effort to hide his manhood, as Eren did, and actually attempted to emphasize it by propping his leg up against one of the benches littered throughout the bath. You were frozen in embarrassment and as much as you wanted to punch him right in the spot he most yearned for you to gaze upon, you couldn't do it.

"Walls, Reiner do you have any shame?" You spat back, your muscles still seized up with your beyond awkward encounter.

"None if it comes to you, sweetheart." He chuckled confidently. Before you could quip back another response, a blur shouting your name dashed towards you and turned your vision black. The hands over your eyes became your sole protector from the copious amounts of naked men.

“I know you are dumb, but you really need to watch where you are going.” Jean scolded from behind you in a hushed tone. You let out the balloon of a breath you had been internalizing. If you hadn’t believed in angels before, Jean sure as hell was your angel now. He abruptly turned around and began waddling the two of you towards the entrance when you heard agile footsteps circling around you. Jean suddenly halted, the unexpected loss of movement sending you flailing.

“Hold up, Jean. Maybe she knew exactly where she was going.” Reiner purred. You felt Jean’s breath quicken against your ear and his grip on your temple tightened momentarily. You didn’t need to physically see Reiner’s face to picture the shit-eating smirk edging its way into his features.

“If you wanted me, Y/N, all you had to do was ask.”

The sound of wet feet against tile grew closer until you felt unwanted puffs of air leaving feather-light touches on your face. Jean suddenly flung you sideways like a cooked noodle, placing himself between you and Reiner and causing you to squeak in surprise.

“Fuck off Reiner. She doesn’t want to see your tiny dick.”  Jean spat back. A chorus of snickers resounded through the bathroom.

“She was trying hard just a moment ago to avoid the temptation.” Reiner huffed. His arrogance was like a tough stain that you couldn’t get out, no matter how hard you scrubbed.

“Sadly, I did see it and Jean’s right.” You groaned. Your best friend let out a snort followed by the laughter you could feel rumbling from his chest.

“You must not have gotten a good look at it then-”

"If you don't get out of our way, no one will get the minute pleasure of seeing your dick again." Jean sarcastically threatened.

"Please, Reiner, give it a rest." A soft voice pleaded to your right. You recognized it as a familiar cadet, one Jean had grown quite close to.

"Everyone else besides you is uncomfortable here." Marco's even tone was music to your reddened ears. There was a palpable silence of which you presumed was the soundtrack to an alpha male staring contest. Then, Reiner huffed and backed off seeing that the odds were against him.

"Fine, fine. You know you can always call on me Y/N." Reiner chided before sauntering back into the shower.

"The only call he'll be getting is from the infirmary." You grumbled under your breath.

“Can’t keep it in his pants for five minutes can he?” Jean scoffed lowly as he began leading you to the doorway.

“I mean he’s not wearing pants…” You mumbled, still trying to recover from the overwhelming shock and embarrassment. Jean stopped you at the entrance to the connecting hallway.

"When I let go, don't you dare look behind you." Jean warned, playfully swaying you back and forth.

"Okay just let me go!" You sputtered and swatted his arms before he released you.

You fixed your gaze on the tile walls and heaved a sigh of relief.

"Thanks Jean, I owe you one." You said, voice regaining its composure.

"Whatever, just buy me some food when we go into town next." He replied. You heard him turn around and begin padding back to the showers when you realized your shoulder was missing a fluffy presence. Your towel must have fallen off during your steamy showdown.

"Jean wait!!" You exclaimed. You turned around and in the waning of your flustered hysteria forgot you were technically still in the boy's bathroom. Both your and Jean's eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

"Shit, Y/N what did I say???" Jean exclaimed, hands immediately flying to cover his crotch. You breathed a heavy exhale, feeling the flames scorching your cheeks once more.

"Dammit, I'm sorry! My towel fell-" You sputtered and cursed at yourself for letting the heat flood your brain cells too.

"Ah! Y/N-" Marco appeared with your towel, only he was sporting his birthday suit as well. Oh, this could not get any worse. You were the embodiment of a beet, cheeks puffing in fear and eyes screwing shut.

"I have your towel, I was going to place it by the doorway but-um-here." Marco gently grabbed your hand and placed the towel in it. He laughed nervously and retreated back into the bath.

You turned back around to face opposite of the doorway and slumped your head into your hands exasperatedly.

"You good now?" Jean checked, slight annoyance evident in his tone.

"No." You whimpered in utter mortification.

“Reiner’s just a dick who thinks that everyone wants to see his own.” Jean said with a roll of his eyes.

"It was an accident, so don't worry. Plus this gives me prime blackmail material." He snickered. You shot him the middle finger over your shoulder.

“How am I going to face anyone in that room anymore?” You groaned sadly, the last three minutes of excitement playing on an endless loop within your mortified mind.

“Easy, if they bring it up just kick them on any part of their body you saw today.” Jean snickered.

“But I saw every-” You started to protest and then gasped in horror. Your humiliated expression deepened Jean’s smirk.

"We'll pretend it never happened. Now please, go to the proper bathroom before you play with the crazy lady. You stink."

↞↠

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Hange asked, taking a break from poking at the titan’s dirtied toenail. When her apprentice approached the titan holding area she looked absolutely worn out.

“I have the extreme urge to scratch my eyes out.” You groaned, setting your bag of notes down and crouching in the grass next to her.

“Please don’t, today I need you to help me scratch Bean’s eye instead.”

↞♞♘↠

Levi’s grip threatened to shatter the glass pint as he brought it down onto the table with too much force.

“If we had been together when this happened I would have ripped off every one of their micro cadet penises.” He hissed, the alcohol turning into flames within his eyes.

There was a moment’s pause before the entire squad leader table erupted in laughter. The guffaw rattled the wood paneling and caused confused cadets to turn their heads in shock. Erwin accidentally snorted some of his beer and was now struggling with it coming out of his nose. Seeing the commander in such a state caused the same exact thing to happen to you, the burning of the alcohol hurt almost as much as your stomach did from hilarity. Mike kneed the table so hard that it sent his drink flying at Hange who moved out of the way to dodge it, only to smack into Levi’s chest. The action caused the two of them to double over and flip off the bench which only caused the rest of your table to create a larger cacophony.

Nights spent in cherished company like these were ones you held close to your heart.

[ia-bi-tia]

Ok so today was a disaster day for art HOWEVER it seemed to have been a good days for writing :^3

Here's a thing I wrote on my phone - a word vomit if you will

1, 691 words

I feel like you don't really need much backstory for this other than it's set like 6 months after their mother physically assaulted them and they stayed in the home of a physician. This drabble is about how they met Vedra. It's set in Nevinon.

(The whole backstory is coming just be patient and pretend like all this makes sense, thanks!)

They had been so silent for almost half a year - only a few silent words would leave their throat when they were spoken to by the physician or his wife.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Okay."

"Have you eaten anything?"

"Yes."

"Oh? What have you eaten?"

"Bread."

"....The bread is still intact, darling."

They didn't even have the strength to argue. They were so weak. They could barely leave the bed on most days. 

Their back was usually turned to their current guardians, always in a state of sobbing and trembling or complete and all consuming nothingness. They'd just stare at the white wall in front of them until their vision went spotted, and then they'd just keep going. The period was rough and any sense of joy seemed too far out of reach. 

The closest they felt to joy was the rare chances they got to visit the nearby city. 

It would usually be when the physician had work there and nobody could look over the child so they'd get the chance to explore on their own.

And explore they did.

Their lanky frame could be seen slithering around the streets, always covered and silent, looking up at all the buildings. The architecture was different from the farm they grew up in - it felt alive. 

They'd stroll down the streets and watch the people of it and listen. What lives these people led. 

With hearing only bits and pieces they could try to string together stories.

It kept their mind busy on those days.

These outings would spark the tiniest fire in them.

But it seemed so out of reach. So intangible to lead a life like that.

To be old and share gossip with an old friend.

No.

That wasn't for them.

They didn't know where they belonged, their imagination envisioning them maybe an hour in advance at most.

They wouldn't live to be sixteen. 

How could they? Life seemed to be out to get them. 

Would they stay in the house they were at forever? That would be so depressing, wouldn't it?

On one such day they found themself on the streets again. They heard the sound of an accordion coming from the square. They tried to push through the crowd to see the musician but were found lacking in strength as well as attitude to do so. 

They frowned and looked around to find a pile of sturdy looking crates. They clutched their chest as they climbed, still not trusting the injury they got a few months back not to burst if they pushed themself too much.

With a huff, they plopped down onto the crate, now with a better view of the show.

But it wasn't much of a show.

A boy maybe a few years older than them played the instrument, his legs crossed as he lazily played. Beside him was a badly put together bench with a big pot of hot stew on it. A girl about his age was stirring the pot, offering the food to anyone who passed. She held a polite smile as she talked to the would-be customers(?), but the second their backs would turn, her face would show the full extent of her frustration. She'd mumble something to the boy beside her to which he would only shrug.

The pair intrigued Ia and they couldn't keep their eyes away from them. They felt so alien to them yet the two also reminded them of their father so much that it made their chest tighten.

"Oi, you little rat, get off there!"

The sound of a merchant, presumably the owner of the crates, boomed from behind them. This frightened them and they lost their balance and they could feel themself slip from their seat, no matter the flailing of their limbs.

They fell ass-first onto the floor, a loud thud heard from the rubble. They felt their spine reset from the impact and tears started streaming from their shocked face. They tried to get up but a sharp, throbbing pain in their back stopped them in their tracks. All they could do was close their eyes and cry from the pain and from the humiliation of the crowd gathering around them. 

They didn't see the people who helped them up, but they knew their knees trembled as they tried to stand. They cried miserably, not sure what to do next. 

"Iotta!"

They heard the physician call out as he seemingly stumbled across the scene. He tusked as he took hold of them.

"What happened?! Are you okay?"

Ia sobbed and shook their head no. 

"Ay yai yai, we best get you fixed up."

The physician lifted them up bridal style to at least get them away from all the people.

Ia managed to catch one look of the two that helped them up - the musicians.

….

It had been a few days of them recovering. It wasn't too serious, their back was just a little beaten up.

They spent the period thinking about the musicians and what energy they possessed. 

The boy was the prettiest they'd ever seen - tall and lean with angular features. The way he was hunched over that stool was somehow both effortless and elegant.

The girl was an intrigue of her own. The roots of her dark hair were dark hair were showing under the copper red she dyed it in and her face was so expressive. She seemed discouraged by whatever she was doing, yet she stood tall and determined despite her short frame.

It had been a while since they felt the need to make friends.

Making friends. 

The idea seemed so far removed from what they had been experiencing for the last few months. As a child they loved walking up to the other children from the village. But now they weren't sure if they could do it.

But the human need was there and they were determined to fulfill it .

They rummaged the little belongings they had to find their father's tambourine. They hadn't touched it in almost four years. 

They dragged their fingers over the smooth, darkened skin of the drumhead. They seemed to have grown into it; the weight and size of the instrument weren't as awkward in their hands anymore. 

They struck the tambourine again their thigh, at first flinching at the loud sound but it soon turned into a wide, happy grin. 

Oh, how they've missed it.

Noise.

Perhaps it was the silence driving them crazy all this time. 

They messed around for a while, just enjoying the pure joy of making noise.

They left a note on the door as they snuck out. 

'I'll be back. Do not worry.'

They awkwardly clutched the instrument under their cloak as they threaded the well known path into the city.

Their heart raced. This was stupid. How would they even find them? What would they even say to them? What if they didn't like them? What if they were mean?

Though their mind was uncertain, their legs walked like no tomorrow.

It was late afternoon by the time they saw the pair at the beach a little far off from the docks. They had company. Lively company.

There was about six of them, all making music together around a campfire. 

They were all as varied and colourful as the instruments they played. The music was intense and rowdy and sometimes they would sing and other times they would scream. But it sounded so good.

Ia stood quite a ways back from them as they tried to catch their breath, watching them from behind the long curly mess that was their hair.

They battled against themself for an agonizing amount of time before taking a few steps closer. Then a few more. Then another few until the girl from earlier noticed them.

She squinted in their direction then smiled widely.

"Hey! How's your bum doing, kid?"

Ia freezed in their tracks, eyes wide like a deer's. Their mouth hung open but no words seemed to come out. Oh no. This was a mistake.

The girl stood up and walked over to them, head cocked to the side. 

"You feeling okay? Sorry if that was a bit-"

Her words were interrupted by them shaking their head.

"Okay then. Would you like to sit with us?"

A nod.

"Come."

The girl led them to a stool so they could sit down and she plopped into the sand beside them.

"Introductions, band!"

The girl called out and the whole group puffed up their chests and assumed soldier-like expressions.

"Anvil."

"Esfir."

"Apolonia."

"Ras."

"Mete."

"Vedra."

Ia watched them all, amazed at just the little glimpse of their dynamics. They were all so much different from the people they'd usually see as well as so different from each other.

They were surprised when Vedra looked up at them with an encouraging smile.

"What do you like to be called?"

The simple act of not asking for their name, but for what *they* wanted to be called gave them a new type of feeling. A new type of euphoria.

They stuttered, their voice so unused and unnatural.

"I-Ianais. O-or maybe only Ia."

Vedra clapped her hands together, her smile as bright as ever. They could notice one golden tooth in her otherwise impressive teeth.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ia. Say, what brings you to our merry little banď?"

Ia didn't really have an answer so they just shyly showed them all their tambourine with an honest and hopeful smile.

The group burst into cheers and laughter at the weird new kid in their company.

"One of us, it seems like."

The pretty boy, Mete, commented with a little nudge to their arm.

*One of them.*

Maybe their imagination could stretch their lifespan a little further. They'd love to see what it would be like to be seventeen. Maybe even eighteen.

They had never felt so relaxed and accepted, even with just so little.

And it gave their life purpose to know feeling like this was possible.

Little did they know they just met the rest of their life.

:^)

[bxllafanficc]

¡Skate/sing your hearts out! (Yuri Plizetsky x reader)

(Part three)

Part one. Part two. Part four part five Masterlist

Summary: After last year's cancellation of Figure Skating Grand Prix, Yuri Plisetsky finds himself unable to bring out his inner skater after a year of doing nothing but enjoy life like a regular teenager. That's when you enter the picture; We Are Voice Grand Awards's currently hottest competitive vocalist come first place two years in a row. Just like the other competitors of Grand Prix, it turns out that Victor and Yuuri faces the same issue. With an arrangement between Victor and Yakov, they agree to travel to Japan and hire you as a mutual coach for Yuri and Yuuri to help bring back the emotion into their performances like before, maybe even more intense than ever. Yuri however, who's never experienced issues with his coaches before, for some reason finds this one particularly difficult to coexist along with in their (reasonably) odd partnership. Warnings: mentions of minor injury, tsundere Yuri

*Yuri's POV*

"Do it again. This time slow down and think every turn through before you start over."

It's worse than he anticipated. How many practices did he cancel exactly? The sweat is pooling at the base of his hairline and he can feel a nerve in his pinky twitch uncontrollably after using his hand to save him from a particularly bad fall after attempting a rushed series of jumps ending in a loop. The all too pleasant sound of the blades of his skates cutting up fresh ice from the surface is mixed with grunts of frustration and rapid panting. His mind tells him to repeat repeat repeat from the start if he gets something wrong. Repeat until he gets it right and then move on.

Yakov is visibly in a bad mood after seeing how much training they had to get done before moving to his sessions with (Y/n). That means hiring her longer than expected and that's something both him and Yakov wants to avoid. Not because they don't have the money, but because she'll be wandering around without a purpose in Japan, waiting for Yuri to get back in shape.

Another fall. Yuri attempts to use his other hand for support and spring on his feet again but the balance fails him since it's the wrong hand and the inner edge of his right skate bends outwards. He stumble for a second but gets right onto repeating the combination. Deadset to move on as fast as possible.

He knew that Yakov said they would be starting tomorrow morning with his time at the rink. Though,  Yuri had a feeling he would need all the extra time he could get.

(Y/n). The aftermath of his first meeting with the all too famous singer started kicking in. All he could do was thinking about it. His harsh behavior and the disappointment in her response. 'Your voice isn't that special'. Why did he say that when she's literally gold winner of the hottest contest in current time? Even worse, why did he say that when until today he had been following her journey through We Are Voice with a great interest? He especially remember the shock of entire Russian population when she chose to compete with 'Scream' by Sergey Lazarev. That song got sent as Russia's participating song in Eurovision Song Contest. The music contest arranged by the European countries each year. Even though it only came in 3rd place that year it certainly felt like we had won with such a legendary cover. Her presence glowing on stage like that with one of the prides of Russia certainly exploded all over the internet.

But now? It felt too surreal to stand in the same room as the (y/n) (l/n) from that performance. Like he shouldn't know stuff like what shampoo she uses or her off-camera personality. It was almost too intimate in a way and Yuri wasn't sure that he wanted to get to know her. And certainly not as his coach. That just felt like some sense of mockery to him. 'Hey, let's pic the girl who won gold for her intense stage-presence because Yuri is that sucky on feeling stuff.' Was the stuff people surely would be saying about him as soon as media got hold on the news. No, not that he cared about what other's said. It was partly true.

Each jump more rushed than the other, his ears tuned out the sound of Yakov's irritated voice at the end of the rink. The only sound he heard was the sound of his skates clashing and his own breath. Somewhere a door opened and he heard quiet voices at the entrance.

Great. An audience. He decided to stop with the combination for one moment and went with a basic camel spin, slowly fading into an upright spin, hoping into a salchow. The intention was to gain some of his dignity back before he would have to go back falling on his face again. But when the rotation of the salchow was off, anger burned up inside him. Now he was determined to get the jump right followed by the combined spins.

"Yuri, you still have to..." Yakov said to him somewhere to his left but he didn't hear much of it. Or was it right? No, behind him. Where was he located again? Doesn't matter, just keep moving.

Where are the walls of the rink? No, just do it.

It's just camel, upright and salcho-

*smack*

A heavy impact to his head and startled gasps somewhere. He was on the ground now, clutching his forehead in his hand. After one look of the object causing the impact he groaned and stood up in a haze. That damned wall. Was he really that caught up in his thoughts that he didn't realize his balance was completely off even before the finishing jump?

He looked around on the people inside the room. Yakov with his furrowed brows and a girl and a man running into a lounge. That must be the piglet's friends. And beside Yakov a few turns away-

(Y/n). Of course she had to see that. After her stern words at dinner time, Yuri had no intention of causing a further scolding from her. Yakov he could handle but her, just ridiculous.

The old man flailed his arms for a motion for Yuri to continue practicing.

"Don't stop now! You haven't gotten it right yet!"

R-right, he stopped moving and ended up staring at the people around him. Even if he didn't get to catch his breath, he still was too far behind to call it a day now. 'This time I'll have to get it right.' He thought and proceeded to finish the camel/upright spin and then-

Yes! He landed on the outer edge with his right foot like expected and took a little skip to finish it off more aesthetically pleasing.

He tried to ignore the blood pounding in his ears as he went back to the previous combination. But once again the loop faltered and the muscles in his hand hissed underneath the ice as he held himself upright.

"Hey, Yuri! You go take a breather, don't ya? And come here while you do."

It was (Y/n) who rested her arms against the edge of the rink. But a confused cough from Yakov made him hesitate and he stood still, waiting for the two of them to decide for him. He should probably keep going-

"But he just got it right!"

"I can tell when someone's on the verge of collapsing. It's very clear that he won't get anything done if you keep it at this rate. Hell, he might even get seriously injured if his limbs don't follow instructions, Yakov. At least grant him a break." The smile (Y/n) gave the man was a sign to say 'no hard feelings' but the tone of her voice said otherwise. After a moment of silence he nodded and waved at Yuri to get off the ice towards (Y/n). But Yuri didn't really want to be alone with her so he went to the opposite side of where she was waiting for him. He earned a questioning look from her but just waved it off with his own hand.

His fingers were cold and stale. It was hard getting a good grip on the shoelaces and getting the blades in its sheathing. He grunted and leaned back against his seat, the skates still on his feet and his hands turned to fists.

"I know you don't need my help." The boy gazes up at the girl beside him. His new coach looks down at him from where he's sitting and takes a seat beside him. A first aid kit and a blanket rests in her lap.

He sits up properly and turns his head away from her, continuing to untie his skates.

"You're right, I don't."

"You're very consistent. I personally think you did a grea-"

"Why are you here anyway? Aren't you supposed to meet your fans or something?" Yuri knew it was risky to cut your coach off mid-sentence but the words came anyway. Besides, is she really a coach if she has zero experience how to teach others? She's just playing like Victor did two years ago and kept doing so. Even if she's no coach, her (h/c) eyes still feels like they are piercing his soul and there no way to shield himself from her. He feels like an open book for her to abuse so... Maybe she's just good at reading emotions and not actually teaching them. How does one teach emotions? What will she be doing exactly?

"That ended hours ago. You weren't at Hot Springs when I returned so Victor figured you'd be here."

Stupid Victor. Couldn't he tell that Yuri didn't want her near?

(Y/n) opened up the first aid kit and Yuri eyed it carefully. She handed him the blanket with an extended arm but he just swatted it away. It fell on the floor and she stared at it blankly. Then she bent forwards and picked it back up, forcefully wrapping it around the skater burrito style.

"Wha- stop it!" He pouted and shot daggers at her once again. This time, he only earned a grin of satisfaction from her as she took a cotton pad and drenched it in hydrogen peroxide.

"You earned a pretty nasty wound when you headbanged the wall, you know." He knew. Blood was dripping into his left eye and made his vision turn red. He started thrashing and trying to eel his way away from her. That caused her to take a steady grip of both of his cheeks and hold him still. The look she gave him said 'don't you dare move again' and she put the drenched cotton against his forehead. Sharp pain exploded from the wound and he hissed. When the pad was removed, a wet tissue swept up the blood on his cheek and on his eyelid. The touch was cool against his hot skin. Some of his vision turned back and he released a small sigh of relief. Lastly a bandaid was put over the wound. He saw (Y/n) judging her work carefully and then she nodded to herself.

He jolted slightly when he felt her grab his hand with careful manners. Her hands spread is fingers cautiously and he felt her thumb swipe over his still twitching pinky.

"You feel this, right? Does it hurt badly?" Her voice was soft like a breeze and it startled him slightly. A moment ago she was rough and stern and now she's soft and tender? And for the record, yes. Yes he does feel that. And he doesn't even want to begin to think of how soft her hands are-

"No... It's nothing." He lied. But what else what he supposed to say anyway. His hand was swollen but he can't skate with a bandage. But depending on the unimpressed look she gave him, he knew she wasn't buying any of his bullshit.

"Then how come your face looks like that when I touch this spot?" She spoke and applied the slightest of pressure in between the joints of his knuckles. He let out a forced 'owowow' at the action and yanked his hand out of her grip.

"Fine! But you don't have to hurt me further then!"

"Then only one hurting you here, is yourself."

She picked up the rolled bandage and grabbed his hand once again. He took a moment to linger his attention on what she said. How is he hurting himself? He's just doing what needs to be done!

Yakov returned to the two of them and stood slightly off to the side. Yuri saw the dismay in his eyes when he saw the bandage (Y/n) held.

"Kid, we're done for today. Take the rest of the day to gain back your energy for tomorrow's practice."

Yuri nodded and kept watching (Y/n) wrap the bandage. Meanwhile, he couldn't help but catch the mild scent of peach and wild berries. But there was something else. Probably (f/c) (favorite scent) and it smelled fantastic for some reason.

"You know, you should probably get settled into your room immediately when we return." (Y/n) spoke up and flashed Yuri a smile.

"I'll help you." She continued but he shook his head.

"No, that won't be necessary!"

"Oh right, there is one more thing I forgot to mention earlier." Yakov leaned against the walls of the rink as (Y/n) finished wrapping Yuri's hand with the bandage. It felt better with the comforting pressure onto his swollen hand. Jokes aside, maybe he could actually find something to enjoy at his stay here.

"Hot Springs and the hotels in Japan are currently all occupied. You will be staying in (Y/n)'s room thought your stay, as roommates."

...

Nevermind, scratch that thought.

[alolowrites]

Late Night Visitor

Summary: A mysterious stranger visits your balcony and accidentally leaves behind a priceless jewelry that they stole from a museum.   

Author’s Note: I’m pleased to share the next story for @bnhabookclub​ Hero Camp Bingo event. The prompt I used was “Crime AU” It took a while getting this done because of work stress and having slight writer’s block (plus I kept changing the story’s direction). But really, it was because of how stressed/tired I’ve been the past few weeks. So, really sorry if it took forever posting another story.

It’s also my first time writing for Hawks, so hopefully I did him justice! He was the first character that popped up when working with this prompt. Please enjoy!!

Word Count: 2.3K+

“Ah! Hot, hot!”

Well, isn’t this just great? Nothing like accidentally burning your tongue during dinner to remind yourself how impatient you are—damn hunger. One hand flails to cool down your mouth. Steam dances above the hearty bowl of curry rice, the sweet smell of caramelized onions greeting your nose with a soft kiss. Bless the local 7-11 markets for selling quick and easy meals.

You sit criss-cross applesauce on the fluffy gray rug and scroll through social media for the millionth time. It’s been a slow weekend as yesterday’s news is recycled for today’s news. A random show plays on the television, but you don’t pay attention to the white noise. All your focus is on the phone, yet you still reach for another bite from your meal. How the rug stays clean during dinner nights at home is a complete mystery.  

Sipping on your drink, you spare a glance at the balcony and do a double-take—a stranger is crouching outside. You choke, “Oh shit!”

Without thinking, you scurry behind the gray couch, not caring if the rug becomes messy. Your pounding heart is like a concert bass drum which echoes around the small apartment. The sound drowns out the show’s mindlessly chatter. Frightened eyes peek around the corner, and you whip back in full regret.

The person is still outside. Their back is facing toward the balcony door, and they are wearing a form-fitting black hoodie. Hands search for your phone, but they come up empty. Panic finally settles in when you realize it’s on the coffee table. Great, you moan as your head softly hits against the furniture—is the door even locked?

You’re faced with a dilemma: Do you stay out of sight until the stranger leaves or risk being seen while getting help? After much deliberation, you swallow a hard pill and growl at the ceiling, “If I’m doing this, I better not die!”

You’re like a soldier crawling through the mud with a drill sergeant yelling down your neck. You snatch the phone off the table, but make the mistake of looking up at the sliding door. Everything comes to a screeching halt as curious gold eyes stare into your timid ones. The mysterious visitor becomes more intimidating thanks to the balaclava mask—it covers the lower half of their face.

The intense staring contest last for an eternity. You nearly rip off the loose strands on your rug when the stranger approaches closer; they stop when you back away. Taking pity on you, they jump over the balcony and disappear into the quiet night.

A sense of relief washes over you.

Who knows what could have happened to you? Maybe your mom was right about learning some self-defense; the pepper spray is not enough. As you stand and dust off your pants, a shiny light catches your attention; it’s coming from outside. You go against your better judgment and tiptoe toward the balcony.

Your jaw immediately falls to the floor when you spot an exquisite ruby pendant. A sparkling round diamond sits above the bright red gemstone, a slight tint of purple hue lurking underneath. Even the platinum metal chain carries an air of luxury. It’s as if the gods carefully hand-crafted this entire jewelry themselves. In short, it is simple but elegant.

Sliding the door, you wonder if this is some kind of trap. After checking your surroundings, you swiftly pick up the accessory and snort, “Thank you for making me feel poor.”

Fingers glide along the gemstone’s perfect curves as you gaze at the sleeping neighborhood. Your mind goes wild: Who was the person with those haunting golden eyes? Why did they come to your balcony? And why in the world did they leave behind a beautiful masterpiece?

You have so many questions but very few answers.  

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

“So, you didn’t call the police?”

“Um…no…?”

“And why not?”

“It was a mixture of being both scared and stupid.”

“Oh my—” Fuyumi pinches the bridge of her nose. You twiddle your fingers like a guilty child and sink further into the booth. Fuyumi had her suspicions when you texted her to meet up at the usual coffee shop near your apartment. It’s your go-to place whenever you’ve done something questionable, which is ninety-nine percent of the time. Plus, the café whips up the perfect batch of castella—her favorite pastry.  

Customers stroll in and out of the coffee shop as piano music plays softly in the background. Roasted coffee beans linger in the air, tempting your nose with its delicious aroma. Out of habit, you push the castella closer to Fuyumi as if that would help soften the blow. She exhales, “Next time, please call the police.”

“Yes, mother,” you mumble much to Fuyumi’s displeasure, but she lets it slide. With the worst over, you bounce straight up and tap the table with an air of excitement. “Oh! Here’s the best part though, besides surviving a break-in—”

“The person was outside your balcony.”

“—close enough, but not really the point, okay?” Fuyumi rolls her eyes, and you fish out your phone to show her a picture. She takes a closer look as you ramble off. “Anyway, my late-night visitor left behind this gorgeous pendant! Why they were carrying this around is beyond me, and so carelessly too. I’m no jeweler, but I’m pretty sure those stones are worth a fortune—still beautiful, though.”

“Yeah, and stolen!” The white-haired teacher hisses. You blink, wholly baffled at her extreme reaction. Fuyumi whips out her iPhone with two fingers flying above the screen. She shoves it toward you, your eyes skimming through the article. The news delivers a sharp slap across your face as the realization sinks in.

Oh no…

Fuyumi bites her lip, “It’s The Grand Droplet, a priceless heirloom rumored to offer infinite life and prosperity. Police are saying the notorious thief, Hawks, stole the pendant last night from the Yutaka Jewelry Museum.” A few seconds later, she adds, “You have the pendant—”

“Shhhhhh!” A hand attacks her arm, your panicked eyes wandering around the coffee shop as if your cover got blown. No one turns their heads, but you shoot an annoyed glare at Fuyumi. “Why don’t you say it louder? I don’t think the barista heard you!”

“I’m sorry! It’s just,” she grips the table’s edge and leans closer, “This is serious! You have to bring the pendant to the authorities. See, this is exactly why you should have called the police last night! The longer you wait, the more guilty you look. Maybe you’ll even become an accomplice to the crime.”

“You’re not helping!”

“Sorry…”

You dramatically groan into your hands, “Why did this happen to me?! When I said I wanted to live like Larry, I didn’t mean this!”

“I know,” Fuyumi pats your head and sneaks a bite of her delicious treat; her phone chimes beside you. She checks the message before flashing an apologetic stare. “Listen, I have to take care of something with my family, but I hate to leave you like this.”

“No, it’s okay. I can handle this myself,” you pathetically convince her. “I’m sure nothing bad will happen, knock on wood—”

“The table is metal.”

“I said what I said!” Your fist aggressively pounds the table, scaring off some customers. A mother hastily pushes her child away from the chaotic scene. You calm down and sigh, “I promise to call you if I’m in danger, okay?”

“Okay.”

You nod before whispering, “Sorry, table.”

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

The walk back home is anything but relaxing. You are on high alert, throwing suspicious glances at anyone coming too close to you. They could be undercover cops waiting to ambush you and interrogate your poor soul for hours until the necklace reappears.

But I didn’t do anything! I’m a good noodle!

You sigh as the key unlocks the door, your shoes flying off by the entrance. Fortunately, you hid the pendant in a safe place. All you want to do is get rid of this jewelry; it brings nothing but trouble.

Marching down the hallway, you grumble under your breath, “Stupid Hawks, and his stupid stealing habits.”

Everyone knows about the infamous Hawks. He strikes when one least expects him to, and somehow successfully evades capture after every heist. But Hawks always leaves behind his signature red feather as a little present for authorities—it never fails to rile them up. Hopefully, the cops show some mercy when you explain what happened. Maybe you should work on your puppy dog look before heading downtown, which might help you score a few sympathy points.

You find the burgundy jewelry box sitting on the closet’s top shelf and breathe a sigh of relief—the pendant is still inside. Not wasting precious time, you close the lid and exit your room. A soft click makes you freeze.

Standing by the balcony door is Hawks, who wears a black jacket with a white shirt underneath. His ashy blonde hair is lazily slicked back, a few strands sticking here and there like no tomorrow. Surprisingly, he lowers the balaclava mask and flashes a boyish grin, “‘Bout time you came home! I was getting bored out there.”

“How did you—wait, never mind. You break into high-security places to steal things for a living,” you say, shifting the jewelry box onto your right grip. “Listen, as much as I would like to stay and chit-chat, my day is fully booked. Can’t really cancel on these people, ya know?” You slowly tiptoe backward, an awkward laugh ringing through the air. “Let’s do a rain check; I’m free next week. Okay? Okay! See ya—“

“Hold it!” You halt on his order, a curse slipping out your mouth. Hawks strides across the floor, and you clutch the box closer to your chest. You feel as though your feet are glued to the ground, the nerves growing stronger once Hawks stands only a few feet away. He crosses his arms and nods at the box, “Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, it’s nothing special, really.”

“Can I take a look?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Um, because I don’t want to, that’s why,” you childishly snap and send him a dismissive wave. “Now, shoo! You’re wasting my precious time.”

Hawks chuckles at your feisty attitude. He finds this whole ordeal extremely amusing. You know who he is, you know of his reputation just like everyone else in Japan. And yet, you keep on swinging like a boxer with your witty responses. Still, he has a job to finish. “I’m not leaving until you give me that pendant.”  

“Well, I hope you’re paying for half the rent because there’s no way in hell I’m giving it to you, Mr. Thief.” Two seconds later, you add, “Besides, it’s not even yours!”

“It’s not yours either.”

“Oh!” You give him a fake laugh, pointing one finger at your chest. “So the thief is criticizing me for having something that’s not mine? How rich.”

“You’re lucky I find you cute, but,” Hawks dangerously invades your personal space without giving you a chance to stop him. From far away, he doesn’t appear tall. However, Hawks somehow towers over you, which makes you involuntarily squeak. A wicked glint shines through his golden eyes as he studies your unique facial features. You suddenly forget to breathe when his eyes glance at your lips—damn him.

Hawks plucks the box from your loose grip. The hypnotic spell comes crashing down, and you loudly snarl, “Hey! Give it back!”

“Sorry, Dove,” Hawks keeps you at arm’s length, his gloved hand giving your shoulder a soft squeeze as he smirks, “I got a buyer who’s willing to pay a hefty price for this beauty. Of course, you are way more stunning, but he doesn’t need to know that.”

“Quit charming me!” You’re a blushing mess now and throw a pillow at him; he easily dodges it much to your dismay. Hawks’ cackles bounce off the wall, which makes you scowl. His fingers slide the balcony door open, and he tastes sweet freedom.

“Farewell, Dove!”

You have a deja vu moment when Hawks jumps over the edge. Your legs rush outside, and eyes frantically search the streets, but it’s no use—the thief is long gone. One hand slaps your forehead as you stupidly let him get away with the jewel. Feeling like a deflated balloon, you whip out your phone and make a quick call.

“Fuyumi…yeah, the pendant got stolen again.”

Stupid thief.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

You collapse on the couch with as much grace as an inexperienced dancer who steps on people’s toes. Work left you exhausted, but you’re glad it’s almost the weekend. You’ll definitely sleep in and have a lazy day on Sunday. It’s what you deserve after meeting tight deadlines and also talking to the police about Hawks.

Fortunately, they do not blame you for anything, much to your relief. It’s been about a week since Hawks broke into your apartment to steal back the Grand Droplet. Police have no luck locating him; they believe the thief is lying low until it’s safe enough for him to strike again. Where exactly is anyone’s guess.

A knock disrupts your thoughts.

It comes from the balcony, and you jump to your feet. No one is outside, although a flash of red catches your eye. Lo and behold, it’s Hawks’ signature feather with a small note attached. Oh, how lovely, you think before snatching the gift off the floor. Your pet name is affectionately written across the paper. You hate yourself for finding Hawks’ calligraphy impressive, but proceed to read the note.

Sorry for cutting our convo short—had a deal to close. No hard feelings, though, right? If anything, I’ll make it up to you, Dove. Besides, you still owe me that rain check.

See ya soon!

-H

You don’t bother biting back your smile.

Guess you’ll be seeing Fuyumi at the coffee shop again.

Fourth prompt is crossed off. Which one will be next? Stay tune! Thank you for reading! 

Previous prompt: Cuddles 

Hero Camp Bingo Masterlist

[ghastily]

[13] 100 Word Drabbles: Megatron

warnings: a mix of angst, fluff, and romance

relationship: Megatron x Human!Reader, some Pre-War/Gladiator!Megatron x Bot!Reader

notes: Dragging everyone into Megatron hell with me using exactly 100 words.

➥ Read on Ao3!

1. catch: caught doing something they shouldn’t

It's Energon.

Pink, and glowing so brightly it lures you in, appealing to the most basic of your human instincts — curiosity. There's no one else around and so you reach out for it, just to dip a finger in. Maybe a little taste, what could it hurt?

Until a giant servo slams itself down to block you, the force reverberating through the floor and rattling your bones. You fall back with a gasp, heart hammering in your throat.

“Megatron! Where—”

“You know,” He frowns and you shrink back at his tone, embarrassed at being caught, “It's poisonous to humans.”

2. note: leaving a message

You didn’t have the courage to tell Megatron your feelings, not to his face, so you wrote it down. Spilling out everything you felt onto paper. It wouldn't be easy to forgive him, you didn’t know if you ever would but you saw him trying. And so you wanted to try too, to move past the bad blood and into the future. One day, you wrote with shaking hands at the end, I hope that we can become friends.

He approached you, optics tired and smiling tightly, with the note pages pinched between two digits, “I would like that too.”

3. bed: tucked into bed

Some nights you don’t bother with your human-sized bed. Some nights you sleep on Megatron’s chest, smiling as he frets over you and the way his gentle digits adjust the blanket covering you. You playfully swat at his hand and he smiles, finally done fussing, and curling his servo over you protectively. “Are you sure it’s comfortable? Do you need anything else?” “Yes, Megs. I’m never been more comfortable.” You settle in with a yawn, adjusting a pillow under your head. He offlines his optics and slips into recharge, as you're lulled to sleep by the hum of his spark.

4. embrace: a hug

Megatron was not overly fond of his holoform, gray hair and tired eyes only served as a reminder of just how far along in his life cycle he really was. He didn’t want you to see him, not like this, but he wouldn’t deny you this indulgence. “Megs?” You smile at him so radiantly that he forgets everything, “Is that — it is you!” He can’t answer, not when you so suddenly throw yourself at him, arms tight around his neck and squeezing. Megatron smiles and squeezes you close, content to have you in his arms so solid and warm.

5. jacket: bundling up before going outside

This planet was not hospitable toward the delicate nature of humans. Blindingly white, covered in snow and ice it reminded you a lot of the pictures you saw of the North Pole. The child inside of you wanted to go make a snowman — desperately. And Megatron was ruining everything! “Hm, you may need more clothing items. Your core temperature is still not at acceptable ranges.” “This isn’t helping, Megatron! Free me!” You hiss at him, trying to flail your arms in anger only to fall and land spectacularly on your face. It makes you even angrier hearing him laugh.

6. pain: looking after the other when they have a headache

They happened sometimes, these migraines of yours. Pain so unbearable you had to lock yourself away in a dark room and hope it went away soon, eyes screwed shut. Since being on board the Lost Light, you had taken to holing up in Megatron’s berthroom when they struck. He never spoke to you. Megatron brought you painkillers that you choke down with a grimace, and a cold compress that he would replace each time when they warmed. The room blissfully quiet and dark except for the glow of his optics and a dull light so he could continue his work.

7. laugh: at a joke, funny story, etc.

Megatron heard you before he saw you at Maccadam’s, watching entranced as you laughed at something a group of bots said before taking their order. So enamored, he stopped in the middle of a sentence while talking to Impactor.

“Now that is an aft,” Impactor smirks, knowing it’s gotten to him when Megatron snaps back with a frown, “Don’t be so crude.”

Impactor hums and waves a servo in the air, “Hey! Another round here!”

“No, ignore him!” Megatron looks aghast, reaching over the table to put his servos over Impactor’s mouth. You laugh again, and it’s music to Megatron.

8. roam: getting lost

“I don’t know where we are.”

“Nor do I,” Megatron’s voice comes over the radio, neither of you were willing to risk being found by connecting to the internet. He had adopted a human vehicle mode since you escaped together — a truck that looked as rough as he felt. You sigh and lean back in the seat, watching an endless expanse of desert pass by.

“Maybe we can stop somewhere and get a map.”

Your stomach growls and you blush.

“And some fuel for you,” Megatron remarks, amusement lacing his voice even through the static of an old radio.

9. diner: eating at a 24 hour diner

“Be careful.”

It’s the dead of night when he pulls up to the diner, and you clammer out with a nod, pulling the hood of your jacket over your head. Inside is blessedly quiet and empty except for a bearded man in the corner booth, and a lady brewing coffee. You mumble you order at the counter.

“Everything okay, hun?” The elderly woman passes you a plastic bag filled with foam containers — you take them with your head down, “Yeah. Thanks.”

You pass her a crumbled bundle of bills and coins, heading back outside and climbing into Megatron’s cab.

10. rocky: finding the other bruised and bloody

He looks like garbage, tossed out and left to be collected in the morning but the flicker of light in his optics tell you he hasn't given up yet. He’s busted up, marked up, and covered in dried energon.

“H-Hey! Do you need help?!” The moment you reach his side is when he suddenly comes to life — body jerking unnaturally and he growls a warning. You ignore it.

“.. You’re Megatron, right? You use to come to Maccadam’s.” He refuses to answer so you sink down beside him, leaning against the wall. “Guess I’ll wait here with you then..”

11. shield: shielding you with their body

You don’t see the blaster bolt coming toward you, like a deer caught in headlights you remain fully rooted in place as a dark shadow passes over you. The impact of the bolt hitting metal knocks you flat with the winded knocked out of you.

Megatron looms overhead, giant metal body blocking you from harm.

“Run!” You don’t, “I can’t fight with you here!”

“GO!” He roars and you gasp, brain sputtering back into action as you scramble to your feet. Something else hits Megatron and his body shakes around you — you nearly lose your balance before taking off.

12. twinkle: stargazing

On the roof of a gas station, you’re happy and warm with a blanket around your shoulders and legs dangling over the side. You meant to watch the stars but Megatron makes it difficult, he’s staring so intensely at you as he leans against the side of the run down building. “The stars are up there, Megs.” You gesture toward the sky. He leans down to your level, voice low and warm — purring, “All I see are the ones in your eyes, they're more beautiful than any galaxy I have ever seen.” “You’re terrible,” Your cheeks burn, looking away.

13. onion: a sad moment

“I see,” He growls and turns away with fury in his optics, “They've gotten to you too. Turning you against me with their lies!” “Megatron, that isn't true!” You plead with him, spark aching and broken. “I love you and I agree things need to change but this.. There has to be some other way!” He slams a fist into the wall, shoulders slumped with the weight of the cause, expectations, deaths, and energon, weighing him down. “There is no other way! They won’t listen to words so I have no other choice! We are not disposable, we deserve better!”

[cas-lost-grace]

N! Dean and Cas, please!!!

Do 1800 words count as a minific?

N. The color green.

“Nah,”Castiel shakes his head as his sister turns around, the dress she’s trying ontwirling around her. 

“But the color goes so well with my hair!” shesays and pouts

“I hate green,” Castiel murmurs.

“Why?” she asks walking back to the fittingroom.

“Hospital gowns are green.”

“So is grass!” she calls through the curtain.“And grass is good.”

The walls in his first foster home were green too. Annadoesn’t know that. He met her in his last home, the third one, the lesshorrible.

“Yeah, grass is good,” he grumbles.

“My date’s eyes are green!” she says excitedlyas she appears in a new dress. This one is yellow.

“You know I still don’t like the idea of you goingout with a stranger.”

She rolls her eyes. “He’s not a stranger. We’ve beentexting for a while.”

“Do you realize how easy it is to pretend you aresomebody else?”

She sighs heavily. “Fine, you won!”

“You’re going to cancel the date?” He feelssimultaneously relieved and guilty. It’s not like he doesn’t want her to find anice guy, he’s just worried she might get hurt while searching.

“No, but you can come with me.”

“What?”

“You can go to the restaurant with me and sit atanother table and check him out yourself.”

It’s crazy. But it’s also perfect.

“That… that would work.”

She beams at him. “Okay! Now the dress! What do youthink?”

“I think it’s great,” he smiles back.

“You think he’ll like it?”

“If he’s not an idiot, he’ll be stunned by yourbeauty.”

Anna claps her hands and runs back behind the curtain tochange back into her own clothes.

“You should try it too, you know?”

“What? The dress? I don’t think it would complimentmy figure.”

She snorts. “I mean the dating app, dumbass.”

“No.”

“Why? You could find somebody like Dean foryourself. Someone who knows how to live. Someone who would make you lessgrumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy.”

She pushes the curtain to the side to give him askeptical look. “Sure, you’re a beam of sunshine.”

“Exactly. Let’s go or we’ll be late for your date.”

_____

Castiel is almost as nervous as if it was his own date.He’s sitting in a corner where he has a nice view of Anna’s table, but he’s farenough to not be suspicious.

Anna spent the rest of the day telling him about Dean,about how he travels and how he pursued his dream and started his own businessrestoring vintage cars, how he takes cooking lessons so he can cook alldifferent kinds of cuisine and how he designs his own tattoos. Cas is actuallycurious to see the man. He sounds kinda perfect so he must be a sham.

Anna fixes her hair for the thousandth time. Cas checkshis clock. Dean still has a few minutes.

A waitress comes to his table and Cas orders a drink.When she leaves and stops blocking his view, there’s a man standing by Anna’stable and shaking her hand.

He’s painfully handsome, dressed with rugged elegance,tall and muscular. He says something and Anna laughs. She looks charmed andCastiel understands.

He spends the date watching Dean. He orders the firstthing on the menu and doesn’t even register what it tastes like. He drinks somewine but it tastes bland.

He’s fascinated by Dean, by the way his plump lips movearound words, by his eyes sparkling with interest, by the tattoo peeking out ofhis rolled-up sleeve.

He supposes the date goes well, Anna laughs a lot andsmiles and twirls her hair around her fingers like some girls do when they’reflirting.

Startledby the fact that Dean’s asking the waitress for a bill, Cas checks his watchand realizes it’s been almost two hours and he feels like he could spend daysjust like that.

Anna excuses herself and heads towards the bathroom, Casasks for his own bill and starts rummaging through his bag for his wallet.

“Did you enjoy the view?” a deep voice makeshim look up and Castiel’s heart stops when he sees Dean leaning on his hands onCas’ table so their faces are almost on the same level.

“I- I-” Cas stutters, absolutely at loss ofwhat he should say to save the situation.

“You know at first I thought you were watching mygirl and I was ready to punch you in the face, but then I realized you wereactually staring at me the whole time. Now I’m not sure if I shouldstill punch you in the face for being a creep or if I should give you mynumber.”

Castiel’s mouth falls agape and he blinks in disbelieve.He must look like an idiot.

“Cas?” Anna says over Dean’s shoulder. Castielcloses his eyes and heaves a deep breath hoping he might wake up from thisnightmare or get struck by lightning or anything thatwould end this awkwardness.

“Cas?” Dean repeats after her. “So this isthe brother you talked about? The one that should start to live a little?���he asks with amusement. Castiel opens his eyes to see the soft smile on Dean’sface as he looks at Anna who blushes a little and pushes her hair behind herear.

“Yeah, sorry. He didn’t like the idea of me goingout with a stranger so-” she gestures towards Cas instead of finishing thesentence.

“Oh, I see,” Dean says. Surprisingly, he doesn’tsound offended at all. He turns at Cas again and spreads his arms. “So?What do you think? Am I a serial killer?”

Castiel frowns and crosses his arms on his chest.

“That’s hard to tell. But you seemed to be who youclaimed to be online.”

Dean snorts. He turns his head just slightly in Anna’sdirection, his eyes still on Cas.

“You were right, he needs to loosen up.”

“Yeah,” Anna sighs.

Cas’ frown deepens.

“Okay,” Dean claps, “let’s go then.”He offers his hand to Cas. Castiel stares at it.

“Where?” Anna asks.

“I don’t know. Outside. To live. To enjoy thebeautiful evening. Come on, Cas, I know you secretly want to.” He givesCas the cheesiest wink ever. Cas laughs despite himself.

“I need to pay first,” he protests weakly.

Dean rolls his eyes, produces a twenty from his backpocket and throws it on the table.

“Dealt with, let’s go.” He extends his handtowards Cas again.

Cas’ heart is beating fast when he accepts it. Dean grinsat him and grabs Anna’s hand too. She giggles as Dean leads them out of therestaurant.

It really is a beautiful evening. The air is warm and fresh, the sky is only nowturning dark blue.

They start by obtaining a bottle of wine and drinking itwhile walking even though Cas protest. But it’s hard to say no to someone likeDean, even harder when he pairs up with Cas’ little sister.

They don’t do anything special, just small things. Theyshare a cone of ice cream, rent a scooter and ride it all three of them at thesame time, feed birds and climb trees in the park, sing off-key as Dean plays ona public piano, dance to street performers’ music.

Cas feels lighter than he did in years, maybe ever. Dean’sand Anna’s energy is intoxicating, their laughter contagious, Dean’s hand onthe small of his back makes Cas’ feel dizzy.

Whenthey arrive at the river, they turn quiet, calm in a content way. Dean helpsCas climb on the railing and holds his hand as he walks it like a tightropewhile Anna skips and twirls in her yellow dress on his other side, singingunder her breath, her shoes dangling from her hand.

Cas looks at the river, at the twinkling lights reflectedin the water and sighs. The world really is a beautiful place when you letyourself enjoy it.

His foot slips. He yelps and flails for balance, but he’sfalling.

Dean catches him, his strong arms wrapping around Cas’body.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs into Cas’ hair asCas catches his breath.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and looks up intoDean’s face. His heart gives a hard thud and something flutters in his stomachwhen Dean smiles warmly down at him.

Then Dean lets go of him and averts his eyes. He seems toblush a little when he runs his hand through his hair and speaks.

“I-uhm-I’d like to talk with Anna. Alone. If you don’tmind.”

“Yeah, yes, of course,” Cas stutters, suddenlyfeeling cold even though the weather didn’t change.

He turns and leans against the railing while Dean goesafter Anna. Cas doesn’t look their way, he doesn’t want to see. There’ssomething ugly curling in his belly and he hates himself for feeling like that.

He loves Anna and he’s happy for her. She really deservesa great guy like Dean. But she was also right about Cas needing someone likethat for himself too. Someone who would make him smile, who would teach him tolove the world, even the color green.

As he’s deep in thoughts, he doesn’t notice Anna walkingto him and gets a little startled when she kisses his cheek. “Good night,Cas, don’t screw it up.”

Before he can wrap his head around what she said, sheruns towards the taxi that is standing by the curb.

“What the-?” he mutters as he watches her getin shooting him and Dean a smile and a little wave.

Dean places a hand on Cas’ shoulder to get his attention.

“Cas, look,” he starts softly when Cas, stillutterly confused, turns to him, “I really like your sister, she’s amazingand really beautiful-”

“Then why did you let her go?” Cas asks alittle too sharply. 

Dean frowns a little before he continues.

“She’s amazing, but she… she doesn’t make my heartgo all wild. You know what I mean?”

“Oh-” is all Cas can say. He should feeldisappointed, sorry for his sister, but all he can focus on is the intense gazeof Dean’s eyes and his soft voice.

“Fortunately, I just met someone who’s beautiful andawesome too and they make my heart go totally crazy.” With that, he grabsCas’ hand and presses it against his own chest.

“Oh,” Cas breathes out eloquently as he feelsDean’s quick heartbeat. He knows his heart is beating just as fast as he’sstaring at Dean and his words finally start to make sense.

“Dean-”

“I’m going to kiss you,” Dean says and leanscloser.

Cas jerks his head back at the last moment. “Wait!Did you kiss my sister?”

Dean bristles up. “Of course not! What do you thinkI-” Cas cuts him off by pressing their lips together.

It’s a bit awkward at first, but they soon ease into itand fall in sync.

The kiss is like the whole of their adventurous eveningconcentrated into a few moments. Charming, fun, dizzying, warm and utterlyamazing.

They are breathless when they part. Cas looks Dean in theeyes. They are green. It might be his new favorite color.

Send me a letter and a character and I will write you a minific

[inactiive-shit]

Electricity

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Masterlist

Warnings: references to past issues, intrusive thoughts, Remus-normal stuff

Pairings: Platonic Intruality, background romantic Royality

Words: 2,224

Summary: Remus is like the clock that still has cogs. He does work. It is just a different kind of working than others are used to. Sometimes, he must be wound, sometimes his gears malfunction and he must be reset. Sometimes people ignore his face for the ones printed in pretty, glowing numbers.

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

Remus is vibrating.

That’s not some weird metaphor for sex, he’s not alluding to anything that isn’t exactly what he means.

What he means is: his body is running about a million gigawatts through every single atom. How else would you explain the flailing arms, bouncing legs, loud screeching noise that is coming out of his mouth, or the white streak in his hair that he swears wasn’t there yesterday? No, there is no other explanation. Remus is being electrocuted enough to kill an elephant ten times over and he still has the unfortunate luck to not only be living through it but aware of it as well.

Which, really, depending on which Gods he’s currently worshipping, is deserved. Zeus would probably smite him, given half a chance. But that isn’t Remus’s problem until it actually happens, and this isn’t that.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. This was one thousand - I’ll raise you two - I’ll raise you three thousand percent electricity made and controlled by Remus’s own brain because sometimes even his body is against him. He can’t always control the bullshit that comes out of his mouth, and sometimes he feels disconnected from his arms when they flail around and accidentally land a gnarly black eye, and do you really think he would keep bouncing a hole through the floor with his leg if he had the choice to just stop for a minute?

But he doesn’t, because things often don’t work out for Remus. It’s just what he’s come to expect. Stupid because he can’t do easy things, nonsensical because he can do hard ones. Confusing because he reads with music on, lying because he can hear your watch ticking from across the room and cannot do simple math with a distraction like that. Uncaring being so impulsive, wrong for trying to be considerate. Always, always, Remus is never enough.

Remus is like the clock that still has cogs. He does work. It is just a different kind of working than others are used to. Sometimes, he must be wound, sometimes his gears malfunction and he must be reset. Sometimes people ignore his face for the ones printed in pretty, glowing numbers.

He doesn’t know who the problem really belongs to, whether he is running too fast for everyone else’s day, so that he has twenty-eight hours for their twenty-four, or if they simply don’t know how to read the time on an analog clock, with it’s spinning hands and whirring parts. He figures there’s not much to figure out about all that, not really. At the end of the day, he is the one out-numbered, he is the one impulsive, he is the one with oxymorons that run like code through his system that works for him and no one else.

Remus is not the problem, he is their problem.

But right now, more specifically, he is Patton’s problem. Roman had left him alone in his house, assuring him that he’d be back in half an hour. Due to some crappy traffic, crashes, making a few other stops, and having his other friends require his help, Remus was still sitting - bouncing off the walls in his house alone when Roman’s fiance Patton got back.

In the twenty minutes proceeding, it’s all been downhill.

“Remus, please stop that,” Patton says, mouth twisted into a politely downturned smile most likely because it’s not the first time he’s said it. This is also not the first thing Remus has done that made Patton ask him to please stop. It doesn’t feel like as much of a win as it usually does with Patton’s genuine if nervous smile when he’d first seen Remus today.

Remus launches the bouncy ball at the wall again, snatching it out of the air before it can shoot away to break one of their overly expensive vases. He grins at Patton, lips pulling a little too wide, and does it one more time, then pockets the ball.

“So so so,” Remus sings, flipping himself upside down on the couch and staring at Patton. “What’s up with you, A-Pat-thy? Get it? Like apathy but-”

“But with my name, yeah,” Patton says. There’s almost a smile on his face, which is not the kind of reaction Remus’s nicknames usually get but he’s not objecting. “Wait here,” Patton says and leaves the living room. Remus takes the ball out of his pocket and puts it in his mouth instead. There’s not much reason to it, just rough and round and in mouth. It has no taste but it feels like stretchy sand, which Remus will make the second he gets the supplies he needs.

“Let me ask you,” Patton says, returning with one hand held behind his back, “how fondue you find puns?” He presents Remus with fondue-covered bread. Remus jumps off the couch, clapping his hands.

“Oh, punderful!” he exclaims, accepting the bread for the olive branch it is. Remus may be a million things that other people have accused him of, but he’s never been dense - as much as Roman would have liked him to notice less. He knows a peace offering when he sees one.

“That’s just too cheesy!” Patton says, really laughing.

“You better be bread-y because there’s more where that came from,” Remus says, pointing at Patton with his bread. He cackles.

“Well, well, well, you better just Skittle on out of here, because puns are my business and you are about to go bake-rupt,” Patton says. He makes finger guns at Remus and Remus collapses back onto the couch, clutching his wounds gravely.

“Oh no, the Sheriff of Punnery has yeasted me again.” Patton wrinkles his nose. “On bested?” Remus asks. He refrains from saying his buns were just too powerful because that can carry connotations and this is his brother’s fiance; he doesn’t want to make things too weird when he actually kind of does want Patton to not-hate him.

“It’s passable,” Patton says. “But I think I out-punned you this round.” They both laugh at the last, unexpected pun of their duel, and Remus has to concede defeat here. He nods acceptingly.

“I must agree. My brother has picked a worthy adversary.” Remus’s leg starts bouncing again now that he’s sitting down, and the electricity is coming back full force so that the air around his skin is crackling with energy he can’t touch. It’s arcing through his veins like molten rocks, leaving behind a desire to jump and scream and move, but his leg bounces and he picks at his nails and chews his lips and tries not to be any more obnoxious than he has to be.

“I have some spaghetti I was going to heat up for dinner,” Patton says. “It’s nothing special, and if I’d known you were coming I would have made something better, but we can split it.”

“That sounds pasta-tively delicious,” Remus says. “I can’t remember the last time I had spaghetti.” Patton laughs and goes back to the kitchen - which, from Remus’s limited understanding of their life, is where Patton lives. He can’t say for sure, but he’s pretty sure Patton is some kind of human-sized brownie that enjoys cooking. Is it technically bestiality that Roman is going to marry him?

Remus is still musing over Patton’s perilous status as human and rubbing the carpet bare with the ball of his foot when Patton returns with two plates of spaghetti. He sits on the couch next to Remus, which is strange. Not many people sit next to Remus if they can help it. He doesn’t say anything though. As much as he’d like to make a crude innuendo or pun (as much as they’re clawing up his throat to be voiced), he will not mess this up. They’ve only just decided to be brothers again, and he won’t fuck up like last time.

“Do you like it?” Patton asks, jolting Remus. He nods hurriedly.

“It tastes better than any gourmet rat I’ve ever had,” he says, shoving another handful in his mouth. Patton’s face twists up again, but Remus can’t and won’t just not talk. “You know, there are a lot less rats in dumpsters than you’d expect to find. And there’s a lot of stuff that’s totally functional that people just throw away. It’s crazy. The world would quit working without trashmen. They can make or break an entire neighborhood. Once, when Roman and I were kids, there was a huge storm on garbage night, ended up with trash all up and down the streets. I don’t know who cleaned it up, but it wasn’t us.” Remus keeps talking until he’s forced to stop to breathe at which point Patton interjects.

“I noticed that you move around a lot.” Remus immediately stops all movement before it picks back up and the intensity increases. “Which is fine,” Patton continues hurriedly, “but I was just wondering if you had heard of something called pressure stimming? It helps me when I start to get restless. I just thought of it because fidgeting that much makes me tired.”

“I have never not ever heard of such a thing,” Remus says, speaking quickly. He flutters a hand through the air and it looks kind of like a drunk hummingbird. Wouldn’t that be an interesting sight? Remus adds it to his to-do list. “What does it entail?”

“You just apply pressure to yourself, like sitting on your legs or something. Or you can do it with another person on a larger scale.”

Remus doesn’t say doing it, huh? How forward of you despite that being the loudest thought in his head for approximately five seconds. “You mean punching people.” Remus nods wisely. Punching is a good way to calm down.

“No!” Patton cries. “Nothing violent! Like cuddling.”

“Yeah,” Remus says slowly, “I have no idea what you mean.” He lifts a shoulder nonchalantly and shoves another handful of spaghetti into his mouth. But then his plate is lifted out of his lap and he looks up into Patton’s eyes, much closer now than he had been a few seconds ago.

“What’re you doing?” Remus whines, watching his plate leave him with all the regret he can summon.

“Can we cuddle?” Patton asks. “Like, platonically?”

“Uhm, sure?” Remus says. Patton pushes him so that he’s laying down flat on the couch. Remus turns his head to look at the wall and wonders what on earth his brother’s fiance is about to do. If something goes bad here, if Patton does something Remus didn’t ask for, Roman will still believe Patton over him.

Remus can’t lose his brother again. Not so soon after getting him back.

“What are you,” Remus starts and begins to sit up, but then Patton is flopping carefully on top of him. Remus’s back is pressed firmly into the couch. Patton makes a comforting weight on his chest that almost lets him drown out the stupid voice in his head yelling chew his hair and pull the threads so his shirt comes undone and he’s in eye-poking range.

“Take a deep breath,” Patton says. Remus does as he’s told without thinking about it first - not always a good thing to do - and immediately feels like he’s settled exactly where he’s supposed to be, with the couch firm under him and Patton solid above. He’s content.

He hasn’t felt like that in a long, long time.

“Do you like it?” Patton asks.

“Yeah,” Remus says. He reaches up hesitantly to rub his eyes, almost afraid that if he moves this apparition will evaporate (it wouldn’t be the first time.) “It’s...nice.”

“I’m glad,” Patton says. He pauses for a moment and Remus wonders what thing he’s not saying, what Remus is doing that is wrong and bad and loathed-

“You’re not fidgeting as much,” he says quietly, which is definitely not what Remus had been expecting. “Do you feel calmer?”

“I-uh.” Remus chokes and he flutters a hand in the air before trapping it at his side. He’s surprised to realize that he doesn’t really feel that electricity burning through his synapses, telling him to pick his hand back up and fling it around like a badminton racquet when the shuttlecock has gone out of range. How strange.

Remus’s eyes flutter shut before he can stop it and he sighs heavily, giving himself fully over to the comfort of the moment. “Yeah. I feel calmer.” His fingers trace patterns against his pants and his leg shifts. Patton moves slightly and Remus holds his breath, hoping that he hasn’t done anything to make Patton mad at him, but he only adjusts himself to Remus’s new position and stays where he is.

Patton hums on top of him, and while the otherwise silent house is a bit too much for Remus, this noise isn’t entirely unpleasant. He finds himself slipping away, feeling so tired and okay and really, actually safe here that he shuts off before he can stop it. His last solid thought is wondering if Patton is like a lightning rod, attracting the electricity out of Remus so that Remus can finally relax. His brother really did fall in love with someone good. Despite everything, Remus is glad that he’ll have that.

He falls asleep without electricity snapping against his skin. It is a singularly amazing experience.

[jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels]

Don’t You Hear My Call Though You’re Many Years Away - Chapter 11

A/N: Angsty chapter here folks. Y/N struggles with her secret and comes to some realizations. Word count? Who knows!

From that night on, John stayed with me. And time seemed to move even faster. Another week had past, and I only had two left. I was growing more accustom to life in the 70s, I’d even stopped periodically, and frantically, search for my cell phone. I found I was wondering less and less about the goings on in my own time, and focused more on what I was experiencing. I wasn’t forgetting my place in this world, and in time, I was simply living in the moment. Taking this experience for all it was willing to give me. Although the truth quietly simmered still.

The band had found a suitable rehearsal space, where I became audience to the birth of some of their first songs, and the perfecting of existing ones. Witnessing history in the making was awe-inspiring, mind-blowing and beyond thrilling. Every rehearsal was exciting for me. Even if it was filled with squabbling, there was generally much more laughter.

Their first show together was in a week and a half, and I’d be leaving within days of that. I tried to focus on everything but my departure.

I was spending the day with Freddie and Roger at their stall. We had found that people were drawn in by my American accent. In hopes to make a few more sales, they made sure I talked to possible customers first, then they would handle the business end of things.

Mary showed up later in the day, after she left work. After greet Freddie and Roger she greeted me with a hug.

“Y/N! Enjoying your day with these two” she asked.

“I am.” I replied, returning her hug.

“You’re welcome to come with me, I’m going to the flat.” She said

“Oh no! She can’t leave!” Roger butted in, slinging his arm over my shoulder. “She’s helped with some sales, and I’ve gotten a few numbers from some of the girls that have come in.”

“I think I’ll stay” I told Mary, “but thanks! I’m enjoying being here.”

“Alright” she smiled “will you be at their practice later?”

“Wouldn’t miss it” I responded.

She turned her attention back to Freddie, and Roger took this moment to become more serious. A side I wasn’t used to.

“Speaking of missing out on things, it’s going to be strange when you’re no longer here” he said thoughtfully.

“Why? Will you miss having someone to annoy? Or is it me that annoys you?” I replied, trying to bring some humor back to the moment.

He laughed briefly “well I will miss our banter, but you’ve become our friend. And you’ll miss the other upcoming shows. My birthday. Deakys birthday.”

My heart froze, I realized then I wouldn’t just be leaving John behind, I’d be leaving them all. I’d made friends. I cared for them all, no longer just as a fan, but as a friend. And I’d be disappearing.

“But how about this” Roger continued “when we’re famous, touring the world, you can come see us again.”

“Only if I get to go back stage” I said smiling at him. Ignoring the nagging feeling.

“You think we’ll be famous?” He asked, becoming serious again.

“I do. I know you will.” I responded, bumping his shoulder with mine.

“I’ll get you back stage and front row” he said, giving me a brilliant smile. “Just, don’t vanish on us completely when you leave. Write, ok?”

I couldn’t speak. The truth was boiling under the surface. I could only smile and nod. The lying was beginning to weigh so heavily on me.

Rogers voice pulled me from my thoughts, “You know, John must have a thing for older girls...or teachers” he said, causing myself, Freddie and Mary to look at him.

“I’m sorry?” I said, cocking a brow at his statement.

“I was just thinking about a girl Deaks met at a disco, she was going to be a teacher too. Like you. What was her name, Fred?” He asked, looking at Freddie who was cutting his eyes towards the blonde.

“I don’t know.” Freddie replied curtly, casting his eyes towards me. Roger turned back to me and took in my expression.

“I could be wrong about tha...” he began, I cut him off.

“Was he dating someone? Before you all met me. Was he seeing her?” I asked sharply.

Veronica. I hadn’t forgotten her, but I hadn’t realized they had met so early. His future wife. The mother of his children. The woman he was meant to spend his life with.

“No” Freddie and Mary, respectively, reassured me “he wasn’t seeing anyone.”

The tension slowly began to overwhelm the small stall. It was suffocating. The churning in my stomach worsened and the need to flee hit me.

“I’m going to go back to my room for awhile...I feel...I mean I need...I’m gonna go...” I stammer and stumbled over my words as I grabbed my purse.

“Y/N!” Roger called out as I hurried away.

“Y/N” Freddie yelled “will you be at rehearsal?”

“Yeah” I hollered over my shoulder as I made a quick get away to the street outside the market.

I hadn’t walked these streets alone since my first day here. But being alone was best right now. My emotions were too high. I might slip up.

Veronica. Ronnie. The woman John would marry in a few short years. The woman that would give him six children. They would start dating soon, or should. Could everything that has happened between John and I change that fact? Would he and Veronica still end up together? They had to. It was supposed to happen that way. History can’t be changed, right?

I walked for what some time, processing the fact that I had been in denial about since day one. This wouldn’t last. I had involved myself where I shouldn’t have. I had complicated my life. I broke rules. What now? What next?

My emotions were running wild by the time I made it back to the inn. I hurried past Margret, up the stairs and to my room, where I let them over take me. I laid on the bed, on Johns pillow, and as I breathed in his scent, I began to cry.

I cried out of sadness, fear and jealously. But mostly anger. I was angry with myself, angry with the fact that this wasn’t my place in time, angry that I didn’t have more time with him.

But what right did I have to cry over the mess I was causing?

I glanced at the clock through tear filled eyes. Rehearsals was in an hour. I pushed myself up off the bed and made my way into the small bathroom to see how puffy my eyes were from all the crying.

As I stared at my own reflection in the mirror, I resolved myself to the fact that John had to know. I would tell him. I wouldn’t just disappear. He would know the truth.

**

As I approached the doors to the rehearsal space, I didn’t hear music or arguing, so I slowly peeked in making sure the room wasn’t being used by someone else. Or empty.

I looked towards the stage, where it looked like Freddie and Roger were having an intense conversation with John, while Brian stood back, taking it all in. John seemed worried, and angry. His arms crossed over his chest, his brows pinched. Roger looked deflated, sad. Freddie was still his animated self, his hands flailing as he spoke.

I stepped in and let the door close heavily behind me, causing all of their heads to swivel in my direction. Both Freddie and Rogers expressions turned to one of relief as Roger turned and jogged up to me.

“Y/N” he said quietly “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ever mentioned that other bird...”

I reached my hand out to grab his as the words spilled out of my mouth, “it’s alright. Really. Our conversation just made the realization that I’d be leaving soon and hit me pretty hard. Besides, I mean, of course John has seen other people. I didn’t want to break up whatever he might have had with someone though. It was a lot. I over reacted.”

“No” he shook his shaggy blonde hair “I should have shut it.”

John had slowly made his way towards us, he spoke softly behind Roger, “Are you alright sweetheart?”

Roger stepped aside as I replied, “yeah, I’m good. But you all need to be rehearsing. Get to it!”

Roger smiled sadly at me before turning to walk back. John stepped closer.

“Are you sure?” He asked, looking me in the eyes, his hand catching mine. A lump rose in my throat, causing me not to be able to speak. I let a smile cross my face and nodded slightly. He eyed me for a moment before he leaned down and gave me a tender kiss on the lips. Tears sprung to my eyes as he did. I quickly blinked them away as we walked further into the room.

John stood with me for a moment longer, continuing to eye me questioningly. I smiled weakly as he stepped up on the stage before I took a seat next to Mary.

“Are you alright?” She whispered, looking at me with concern painting her face.

Again, I plastered a fake smile on my face, and with a quick nod, “yeah” I whispered back. Not loud enough for my voice to break under the weight of my emotions.

As the band sets into playing “Doing Alright”, I fell back into my own thoughts. Oblivious to anyone or anything around me.

How to tell John? When to tell him? What would happen? How would he react? Do I tell the others?

Questions, thoughts and scenarios swam through my head. Bombarding me so that I wasn’t even aware practice had ended until John spoke to me.

“Y/N, sweetheart? Are you sure you’re ok?” He asked, looking at me, worry shadowing his features.

I snapped out of my speculations and fears, looking into his grey green eyes. I nodded slowly.

“Want to go with everyone to the pub? We don’t have to.” He asked softly as the others looked on from a few feet away.

“Sure” I squeaked out as John straightened up and held out his hand to me. Slowly I let my hand fall into his, feeling the warmth of his fingers around mine did little to pull me out of the depths of my own mind.

At the pub, drinks were pressed into my hand, as conversations went on. I laughed when others did, but I wasn’t even aware of the joke. What was talked about didn’t register. I was on autopilot. Going through the motions. The fear churned deep in my stomach.

And all the while John was watching me. Knowing something wasn’t right.

“Are you ready to go?” He asked, leaning close to me.

“If you are” I replied flatly, as I stared blankly at my drink. John was taken aback, and filled with concern.

I watched as he stood, slowly he took my drink from my hand, and pulled me to my feet.

“We’re going to head out” he told the others. Before I could even consider telling everyone goodbye, John was steering me out of the pub. When we’d made it out the door, and down the sidewalk a few steps he stopped in front of me. He cupped my face in his large hands, and stared me in the eyes a few breaths before he spoke.

“I know what Roger said upset you” he said softly “but I promise I wasn’t dating anyone.”

My mouth turned to cotton before I even opened my mouth, causing me to swallow thickly.

“I feel as if I’ve only suddenly realized today, that I’ll be leaving and much sooner than I’d like” I replied, raising my hands to cover his, “I don’t want to leave.”

He sighed, leaning his forehead on mine. “I don’t want you to leave either. But it won’t be forever. We’ll figure it out. It will all work out, sweetheart.”

He released my face as he pulled me into his embrace.

Nothing would be worked out. Not when and where I was going at least.

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