#ok i took a picture of the screen and warmed up the colors a bit to get it closer to the original but its not. exactly the same

[chai-en-kaadhale]

okayyy this is probably as far as its going to get in the near future so take the yoohankims :>>

also heres one of the stupid process videos i made while drawing this

[moodymelanist]

One Thousand Followers Celebration

okay I’m honestly kind of shook that we’re even here but thank you to everyone who’s a part of our little corner of the fandom. I love you all so so much and I’m so happy to be here ❤️ most people requested something cute and fluffy so here’s Cassian being drunk and and Nesta comes to get him. I hope you all enjoy!! 💘💘💘

feel free to read it on AO3 here too!

word count: 2975

—————

Nesta was halfway through her latest read when her phone started buzzing incessantly. It was just getting to the good part, where the main couple started to realize maybe there was something more between them than burning hatred, and she didn’t want to put it down. Frankly, it reminded her of her own love story, but she’d never admit that to anyone out loud.

She was forced to look away when her phone was vibrating so constantly with texts she thought someone was calling her. Sighing, she reached for her phone, unlocking it only to see her husband had sent her almost twenty messages.

Cassian, 11:52 PM

Nesta

Nes

I love yiu sooooo muche

Youe so pretty

I weish u were here

everyons laufghint at me but i miss u

wyd

nesssssssssss

are u ignoringme for a book agwain

:(

Swethearft<3

did i tell u i luv u td

wait its ok I ddid

i want a kiss when i see u ok

The remaining messages were a jumble of Spanish and English words mixed together, and while she had a working knowledge of Spanish, she didn’t know it well enough to even attempt to decipher what he was trying to tell her. Still, she couldn’t help but smile as she read through them all, affection blooming in her chest for her favorite person in the world.

Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel had gone out to their favorite bar for guys night, and Cassian was clearly drunk off his ass. It was really hard to keep a straight face with him normally, but when he was drunk, she thought it was one of the most adorable things she’d ever seen.

Nesta, 12:01 AM

I love you too, you big goofball

I’ll give you a kiss and a hug when I see you how’s that

Her phone was ringing within seconds, a picture of Cassian filling her screen before she answered.

“Hello?” she said, marking her page with a bookmark before closing it.

“Nesta!” Cassian exclaimed. She had to pull her phone from her ear for a moment, but she smiled again anyways.

“Hi, Cassian,” she replied, trying not to laugh. He was just so cute. “Are you having a good time?”

“Leave me alone, I’m talking to my wife,” he said, his voice sounding slightly further away. He must have been talking to Rhys or Azriel, but the way referred to her made her want to melt. They’d been together for years and married for just over one, but it still sent a thrill through her to hear him claim her out loud.

“Nes?” he said, his voice back to normal volume.

“I’m here,” she said, getting off the bed to begin looking for her shoes. He normally called her and started getting ridiculously affectionate when it was getting close for him to come home, so it was only a matter of time before he asked her to come get him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Looking for my shoes,” she replied, spotting her boots on the floor. Leaning her phone against her ear, she bent down and put them on over her leggings before walking back to her dresser.

“Are you coming to find me?” he asked. She couldn’t help but smile at how excited he sounded by the prospect.

“Yes, baby.” Nesta hit speaker and put the phone down on their dresser as she took off the oversized shirt that she’d borrowed from him, slid a sports bra on, and put on a plain tee shirt over it.

“Oh thank God,” he said, and then dropped his voice to a loud whisper. “You’re much more fun than the dumbasses I’m with.”

She’d opened her mouth to reply, but then Cassian began talking to someone else nearby. “Tarquin! Fancy seeing you here! Are you still mad about your windows? Nes, I gotta go. Love you.”

It was a cool September evening, so Nesta grabbed a denim jacket before throwing her hair up into a bun and leaving their apartment. Once she got to her car, it was a short fifteen minutes to get to The Sidra. Thankfully there was ample street parking around the corner, and the bouncer let her in with a quick flash of her ID.

Nesta walked inside, spotting her husband and his friends immediately. They took up a ridiculous amount of space in one of the booths, and she couldn’t resist smiling as Cassian visibly brightened by her appearance.

“Nesta!” he shouted, grinning widely as she got closer. So much for subtlety, she supposed. She offered repeated apologies as she walked over to where he was sitting, but thankfully most of the people there seemed to think his behavior was too cute to be a serious nuisance.

Once she was next to the side of the booth he was sitting on, he pulled her in for a hug, wrapping his muscular arms around her waist and laying his head on her chest.

“Cassian,” she said at a normal volume, endlessly amused as he snuggled into her. She leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head before turning to greet Rhys and Azriel, both of whom looked seconds away from breaking out laughing.

“Don’t you dare,” she told them, tightening her arms around Cassian as she gave his friends a look. They both hold their hands up in surrender, Azriel raising his beer at her before turning back to Rhys.

“I missed you,” Cassian said against her chest, his voice muffled. “So much.”

“Every minute without you was excruciating,” Nesta said, playing along. He looked up at her with a pout.

“Stop teasing me,” he told her. He was frowning slightly now. “I did miss you a lot, you know.”

“I’m sorry. You’re just so cute like this, it’s hard not to tease you a little bit.”

“Not as cute as you.” Cassian smiled up at her, pleased with himself. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes good-naturedly and let him tug her into his lap.

“Sorry to crash your guys’ night,” she said to Rhys and Azriel now that she was facing them.

“He’s not as much fun when he gets like this anyway,” Azriel replied, chuckling. “In his old age, he’s turned into a sappy drunk.”

“Hey! We’re the same age!” Cassian protested from behind her, tightening his grip around her waist. Azriel and Cassian had both turned thirty earlier this year, while Rhys’ birthday wasn’t until November. Nesta had turned twenty-eight back in April.

“Good thing I like sappy drunks,” she said, twisting around to face him. He gave his friends a smug look as she pressed a kiss to his warm cheek, his stubble scratching her face in a way she loved.

“You two are the worst,” Rhys groaned.

“Like you and my sister are any better,” Nesta shot back as she turned around. Feyre and Rhys had been together since their college days and had tied the knot once they’d both graduated.

“Speaking of her, I’d love to get back home to her,” he replied. He pulled out his phone and began texting, and Nesta guessed he was asking if she was still awake.

“I guess that’s it then, huh?” Azriel asked, raising an eyebrow at Nesta.

“I’m sure Gwyn is dying to see you too,” she teased, smiling softly at him. She and Emerie had colluded with Cassian and Rhys to set the pair up on a blind date last year, and everyone had been thrilled when they’d agreed to keep seeing each other.

“She has a performance tomorrow, so she’s probably already asleep,” Azriel answered, raising a hand to catch the closest server’s attention.

“I told you my wife was hot as fuck,” Cassian said suddenly, shifting to point wildly at Nesta as their server – a young woman named Nuala – came by to bring them the check.

“I’m thrilled,” she replied dryly, raising an eyebrow as she looked at Nesta. “He hasn’t shut up about you for the last half an hour, you know. Thank God he wasn’t making you up.”

“Thanks,” Nesta said, her lips twitching from trying to hold in her laughter. Rhys put down his card to pay for all of them, waving off Cassian and Azriel’s attempts to give him money for their share of the check. Within a few minutes, the four of them were getting out of their booth and beginning the walk to the exit.

Cassian immediately went for Nesta’s hand, intertwining their fingers before bringing their hands to his mouth so he could kiss the back of hers.

“That is so unhygienic,” she said, exasperated. “I haven’t washed my hands since I left our place.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he said, grinning at her. He kissed the back of her hand one more time before lowering their hands to swing them between the two of them as they kept walking.

“Who’s that guy glaring at you?” Nesta asked, noticing a tall Black guy staring Cassian down from a booth near the door. He had silver curls that stood out brightly against his dark skin, but he couldn’t have been much older than any of them. It had to have been natural, since his eyebrows and lashes were the same color.

“Oh, that’s Tarquin,” he replied, waving at Tarquin with a sheepish grin from where they stood. Tarquin flipped him off before turning back to his companions, who both shared the same dark skin and silvery hair.

“Why is he glaring at you? Do I need to talk to him?” Nesta asked, frowning. She was the only one allowed to glare at her husband like that.

“No sweetheart, it’s fine,” Cassian replied, laughing as they walked by the table. “It’s our inside joke. He threw a party senior year of college and I might have gotten drunk and broken a few windows in his house.”

“You what? Cassian, that’s not an inside joke.”

“It’s fine, Nes. I paid him back for it, but his parents were pissed. I’m banned from his neighborhood, actually.”

“That is not fine.”

“I might be drunk, but I know when I’m right,” Cassian said, just before walking right into the door. Azriel had accidentally let it swing behind him and Cassian hadn’t grabbed it in time, and it got him right in the face.

Nesta burst out laughing before she clapped her free hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. Are you okay?”

“The love of my life just laughed at my pain,” he whined, yanking open the door. Azriel and Rhys were absolutely losing it on the other side, making it hard for Nesta to keep her composure in solidarity with Cassian.

“Let me see it,” she said once they were outside. Cassian had pressed his hand to the side of his face, but Nesta got him to move it with her free one. His cheek was red from the impact, but she was sure it’d be fine with some ice once they got back to their place.

“It’s not so bad,” she reassured him. It was hard to keep a straight face with his friends – mostly Rhys – still howling in the background, but she got on her toes to give him a kiss on his face.

“It still hurts,” he said, pouting at her. “Can I get another kiss?”

“You big baby,” she said, but she leaned in and kissed his cheek again. “That’s all you’re getting. When we get home, I’m putting ice on that.”

“I love it when you boss me around,” he said dreamily, letting her tug him past his friends. “It does things to me.”

“Please take him home,” Rhys called from behind them. Nesta flipped him off before Cassian could, earning another wide grin from him as they walked towards her car.

“Thanks for the best thing I’ve ever seen!” Azriel added, both of their laughter fading the farther Nesta and Cassian walked.

“They’re so mean,” Cassian grumbled as she dug into her pocket for the keys.

“You want me to yell at them? Hurt their feelings a little?” she offered, unlocking the doors.

“No,” he said, pouting again. He got into the passenger seat as Nesta walked around to the driver’s side, and he immediately reached for her hand once she sat down.

“I’d do it if you wanted me to,” she told him, shooting him an amused look before starting the car.

“Maybe a real kiss would make me feel better,” he suggested, leaning towards her and puckering his lips.

Nesta leaned in and brushed her lips against his, but he wasn’t having it. He cupped the back of her head as he deepened their kiss, warming her up inside from the cool September air.

“Come on, let’s go home,” Nesta said, pulling away even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. He huffed and pouted but thankfully put his seatbelt on.

It was a quick ride back to their building, and thankfully Cassian managed not to walk into any more doors on their way upstairs. He wrapped his arm around her as they got off the elevator, which Nesta thought was as much for balance as it was to hold her close.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” he said once they were back in their apartment. He immediately walked into the bedroom and flopped on their bed, somehow managing not to knock anything over or hit Nesta’s book.

“You’re welcome,” Nesta said back, taking the time to take off her jacket and shoes before walking to the freezer to grab a bag of frozen peas. She wrapped it in a paper towel before coming to lay next to him, taking down her bun so that her hair was down around her.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he whispered, turning to look at her. His eyes lit up when he noticed her hair was down, and he reached over to play with it. She handed him the peas instead, making sure he pressed them to the side of his face.

“I thought I knew all your secrets,” she whispered back, smiling softly as she indulged him. She loved that she was the one who got to see him like this, that she was the first person he saw in the mornings and the last person he saw when he closed his eyes at night.

“You do,” he confirmed, pulling the peas away to smile at her. She gave him a disapproving look and he quickly put them back before continuing. “I love nights like these.”

“Why’s that?” she asked. She reached out to brush some of his loose waves away from his face so they didn’t get in the way of the peas.

“I never thought I would be as happy as I am right now,” Cassian said seriously. His other eye was blocked from the position of the peas, so Nesta just held the gaze of the one she could see as he moved his hand to cup her face.

Sometimes he would say things like this that made her feel like her heart was going to burst from how sweet he was. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He shifted closer to her, and Nesta inhaled deeply at the lingering scent of his cologne. “I remember when you wouldn’t even say my name out loud. Now you’re here with me and my peas.”

She laughed before answering. “It was the peas that really sold me, you know. I should have written them into my vows.”

“And you’re telling jokes? Tonight must be my lucky night.”

“Shut up before I take the peas from you, Cassian.”

“You love me too much to do that, Nes.”

“Stop using my love for you against me. It’s unfair and you know it.”

“Never,” he said, running his thumb across her cheek. “I love you too much not to use every advantage I can get.”

“I taught you too well,” she said, smiling softly at him. “Come on, let’s get ready for bed.”

She turned to kiss his palm, as unhygienic as it was, and then got up and started changing into pajamas. He groaned as he rolled off the bed, stretching as he stood up to reveal a strip of golden-brown skin at his abdomen before walking towards their bathroom.

Nesta joined him to brush her teeth in another one of his oversized shirts and no pants. He finished first, squeezing her hip as he walked by her and went back into their bedroom. She quickly brushed through her hair and pulled it into a loose braid for sleep before turning off the light.

Cassian was waiting for her under the covers, laughing as he examined the back of her book. “Is there smut in this one?”

She rolled her eyes before grabbing it from him. “You’re insufferable.”

“That’s a yes, then,” he said, grinning. She turned the lights off and put the book on her nightstand before she slid under the covers, snuggling up next to him anyway.

“I’ll let you know when I get to the juicy parts,” she grumbled eventually. He laughed under his breath, pulling her tighter against him as he maneuvered them so her back was to his chest as usual. His heart was beating its usual steady rhythm against her, a familiar baseline that let her know she was safe and everything was right in the world as long as she could curl up next to him every night.

“I love you,” she whispered, not sure if he was asleep yet. He could fall asleep anywhere, and ridiculously quickly at that; she wasn’t too proud to admit she was jealous.

“I love you, too,” he replied, tangling their legs together.

It didn’t take long for either of them to fall asleep after that.

tag list (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @live-the-fangirl-life​ | @nessiansimp | @bookologist | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @sayosdreams | @dealingdifferentdevils | @rowaelinismyotp | @arinbelle | @swankii-art-teacher | @angelicvoice19 | @teagoddess99 | @dontgetsalmonella | @champanheandluxxury | @chloepereyra | @bookstantrash | @houseofcalores | @lysakirova | @generalnesta | @gwynberdara | @sv0430 | @catplayinvioline | @julemmaes | @secretlovelybeauty | @flora-shadowshine | @imsointobooks | @sophilightwood | @lemonade-coolattas |

[teabunnypaws]

Welp.

I did it.

What makes it WORSE? The fact that while writing one Hawks x Reader fic, I got distracted and wrote a WHOLE ASS DIFFERENT FIC. I don’t really have a beta reader, so I edited it as best I could and just..be gentle with me yall. This is my first fic in 10 years oof. This is my first time writing in this POV so have mercy haha, I know it gets kinda messy toward the end but hopefully it’s not awful.

Unconditional Love (Hawks x Reader)

Summary: You (bunny themed pro-hero) and Hawks have found balance and understanding in your busy lives. Sometimes the greatest show of love is saying nothing and doing everything.

Word#: 4088

Tags:  fluff, cuddling with no pants, fluff and MORE FLUFF, pet names (honeybun, baby bun, toasty bun), mentions of getting a tan, Hero Reader with Bunny Quirk, (If more tags are needed, just lemme know this is my first time posting like this so oof)

Txt: Baby?

Txt: Loooovebiiiird~

Txt: I miss you 💕

You smiled as you sent the text message, comfortable in bed, your teeth biting softly at the corner of your lip. Your long ears gave a small flick as you basked in the cool of the bedroom. It was lit only with dim fairy lights, the sound of the standing fan nearby rumbling through the air, soothing you further as you cuddled up in your sleep shirt. It had been a long day, and you had just gotten back from a grueling two week deployment. Your shoulders hurt, your calves were killing you...which was saying something considering your quirk.

Unlike Rumi, you were built for speed rather than punishing power...but there were days where even you were pushed to your limits and this had been one of them. After a quick small meal and a hot shower, you could finally unwind for the weekend, a gentle smile on your face as you glanced over to Keigo's pillow next to you. 

You had come home with your heavy duffel on your shoulder to be met by a bright eyed and apologetic Keigo in the doorway. He helped it off your shoulder and peppered you in kisses as he gathered you to him, fully decked out in his hero gear, visor pushed up into his hair.

You basked in the warmth of his body around you, the softness of his wings as they brushed against the part of your back exposed by your costume. The sensation of their silkiness against your skin made you shiver a bit, your tail giving a small wiggle of delight. His hands were also so warm, soft in pliant leather that rested on your hips, fingertips brushing softly inward as though he wanted to pet your tail. It was one of your favorite things about him, how he always savored you like that.

"Sorry honeybun, I gotta fly. Duty calls y'know? He had murmured against your lips, his eyes worried and gentle as he regarded you. But instead of what he had seen before with others who had been in his arms, the hurt and sadness, your eyes met his with a gaze that held one thing that never failed to take his breath away: understanding. Your hands slid up to cup his cheeks, pulling him down for a kiss, your lips met softly, sweetly. 

His eyes fluttered closed and his shoulders relaxed, arms and wings tightening about you just a moment as he soaked you in. A soft sigh pulled from you both as you parted, a small smirk curling your lips as you reached up and carefully pulled his visor down settling it in place. 

"Stay safe out there hotshot."

The smile that lit up his face rivaled the sun and his wings ruffled in his joy. "You got it baby bun." He gave you a playful wink and that trademark beautiful smile "I'll be back soon~" and out he had gone, leaving you to unpack and settle in.

You weren't expecting a reply right away, As Keigo or rather..Hawks, tended to be busy with his patrol. Not that you minded. Both of you were pro heroes and even though you were nowhere near as busy as he was, there were times where you both had to bid each other goodbye for the sake of duty.

Sometimes weeks at a time.

You didn't bother to tell him where you were when you had to leave. He *knew* where you were thanks to the feather you wore around your neck pressing to your skin. Not only did it let him know where you were but, it gave Hawks the feeling of your resting heartbeat, the hum of happiness in your chest as he began to reply. 

It was a bond unlike most had ever seen. The two of you tied at the hip, but at the same time, never impeding the work the other did...even if it meant being apart for long stints.

Apart, but never alone~

Your eyes sparkled when you saw his reply: 

Lovebird: I miss you too baby bun~

Txt: Come cuddle me?

There was a pause then...a rather long one. One long enough for you to pull up your emails and flip through before his message popped up on the top of your screen.

Lovebird: I'll be there as soon as I'm done ok? Keep the bed warm for me~

Txt: Fiiiiiine~

And you of course attached a picture of yourself pouting in the low light of the room. Your hair strewn softly about your pillows, ears lowered and bottom lip poked out. To put the cherry on top you were wearing your favorite sleep shirt: an oversized Hawks merchandise shirt the same color as his wings of course; the feather keepsake he gave you resting on its chain and settled about your heart.

There was no text message as a reply, the feather giving all the answer you needed. It shifted and moved to brush against the curve of your cheek and you smiled, gathering it to your lips and murmuring softly against the vane. "Love you…" Your eyes closed, the gentle fluffiness brushing against your lips, and you could almost feel his thumb against them.

It would be a good five hours before you heard the slight rustle of the balcony window and the familiar sound of your boyfriend clambering through. You shifted, rolling over and regarding him in the low light of the room as he stood, looking over to you with gentle loving eyes.

"Hey (y/n), I'm home honeybun…" His voice was still cheerful, relieved to be home but low with his exhaustion. He didn't look too worse for wear, no huge chunks of missing feathers or anything like that, but that tiredness hung heavy on his frame like a wet coat.

"Welcome home…" you replied, shifting on your side to watch him with a small sleepy blink. Hawks sighed, giving a small smile before pulling his visor off and placing it on the bedside table, his work phone was tugged from his pocket, plugged in and plopped next to it haphazardly.

His boots and socks were the next to go, the crimson winged hero too tired to put any sort of effort into stripping out of his work clothes in any sort of sexy manner, but to you? 

He was gorgeous.

The slight flex of his shoulders as he hovered his feathers out of the way to wriggle his coat off was downright sinful, your eyes watching as he dropped it on the floor. The next off was his shirt, tugged off over his head, yet another tired sigh coming as he let it join his coat. One hand coming to smooth his hair back as sharp teeth found the end of one gloved fingertip biting and pulling the leather to remove it and let it drop, soon to be joined by its mate on the ever growing pile. The buckle of his pants came undone and you would have offered to help him with that if he didn't look so drained. Plus...you were still tired and sore yourself.

And just like that...Hawks was gone. Shed and discarded on the floor and put aside for the time being.

Left in his boxers, Keigo flopped face down onto the bed with a fluff of red as his feathers settled back into place. He pushed an exhausted groan into his pillow, not noticing that his dramatic belly flop had made you bounce slightly.

"Hey, we just got this mattress..don't go breaking it just yet." You teased.

"Baby bun..if I wasn't so exhausted I'd show you how I'd really break this mattress and you know it." Came the smothered reply and he laughed softly, gently rolling over to face you with his arms out. "C'mere…" his eyes were honeyed amber, warm and so inviting, even in the low light of the room.

It took less than a second for you to slot yourself firmly between those strong arms, nosing under his jawline while Keigo buried his face in your hair and took a deep breath. One wing draped over you, dropping you both into relative darkness and you hummed in contentment. His exhaling sigh came with slacked shoulders, his hand rubbing quick circles in the small of your back, just above your tail.

You pressed a smile to his neck and murmured softly "Slower please?" Your hand slid up his back in a lazy methodical way as a demonstration. "Like that?" You asked, loving the way his muscles felt below your touch. It was like a musician destringing an overtaut violin bow, another sigh heaved from his frame and he hummed lowly as he seemed to revel in being asked to relax his quickened pace.

"Sure thing babe….whatever you want.." he murmured, his hand shifting to a slow easy pace. Keigo smiled as he trailed his fingertips up and down your back, admiring the lines of your frame, and the softness of your skin under his merchandise. "Y'know...I love seeing you in that...wearin’ my colors...my name on you.." He said softly. "Looks even better on you than before…."

"Oh yeah? Why's that hm?" You asked, nosing gently under his jawline. Your nose twitched as an unfamiliar cologne hit it...a smell that you weren't used to being on him, but nonetheless it was sublime. Woodsy and warm, slightly sweet and undeniably Keigo.

"Probably because you're so tan now...heh, I knew you said you were running around outside a lot and you weren't kidding." He leaned back and grinned at you. "My little toasty bun,  I'm gonna eat you all up~" Keigo growled playfully, biting gently along your shoulder in a few places with a soft noise in the back of his throat.

"Ah! Keigo~" you squealed and squirmed, laughing against his neck. "Yeah I'm a toasty bun, and you smell nice. New cologne?" You asked, nuzzling eagerly back into the crook of his neck. Hm..no not there..

A slight tip of your face where you could feel the soft brush of his facial hair against the bridge of your nose, the smell much stronger there. You hummed your delight, rubbing back and forth, the slight scratch of his hair soothing you, allowing your ears to tip back.

"Nah, new face wash. Rumi got it for me..I wasn't sure if I liked it, but if it gets *this* reaction, I think I might just have a winner on my hands." He said with a playful waggle of his brows, earning a laugh from you against his neck.

"Yeah I'd say so." You hummed, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, settling your foreheads together. You simply paused there...soaking it all in, his presence, the softness of his breath against your lips, the feel of those cool slightly calloused hands brushing against your skin and hiking the back of your shirt as they went.

"Lovebird?"

"Hm?" Keigo replied, peeling open one eye to regard you with a small smile. "What's up (y/n)?"

"I love you." You said softly, giving a small peck of your lips to his, earning yourself a grin. As he began to open his mouth to reply, your own grin flicked over your face as you began your assault. 

"I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.." Again and again, you murmured the phrase, each time punctuating it with a small quick kiss on a different part of his face. You could feel his shoulders shake with laughter, his head tipping to try and return the assault, but at the moment, you had him on the ropes.

All he could do was accept your love and laugh as again and again, it was peppered into his skin with gentle affection and insistent whispers. "I love you. I love you. I love youuuu~" You cooed, the last one given with a veritable rain of kisses leaning up over him, pausing to linger the last one at his lips, allowing you to look into his eyes.

So beautiful they were...like melted honey as they met your own. His breaths came in soft little puffs, quickly warming hands settled against you and he chuckled. "Well that was quite a statement. Allow me to retort~" A wicked grin crossed his face and he used a bit of leverage to roll you halfway under him, not being able to hold back a laugh as your squeal of delight filled the air.

His kisses had no words, but none were needed as he peppered them all over your face and neck, your hands clutching about his neck and shoulders as giggles pulled from you nonstop.

Oh that sound.

That beautiful...beautiful sound. All for him. One of the few reasons why this hero gig was worth it; to come home and settle next to you. What made it even better was that he could feel it. Every rippling vibration seeping into him through the feather you wore and he pushed up on his hands, looking down at you. 

All the genuine joy, all the happiness, it was for him, caused by him. Keigo...not Hawks...this precious adoration reserved for who he was...and not who he allowed others to see him as.

It nearly brought him to tears.

You took a moment to breathe, your giggles dying down, tiny tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you looked up at him with sheer adoration in your gaze. Your hair was messy and spread over the pillow below you, your hands slipping off him to rest gently against the mattress. 

Your shirt had shifted during the assault, slipping slightly down one shoulder, bearing the soft plane of skin to him and the sight of you made his heart ache in the best way. A sweet twisting fullness that left him nearly breathless as he watched you, his wings relaxing softly along with his shoulders. 

Confused at his unusual silence, you looked up at him, giving a small quirk of a shy smile, feeling your cheeks warm. “What?” You asked, your voice soft and flustered. “Keigooo….What?” You insisted when your initial question got no reply, but instead a warm, loving smile.

"You're beautiful babybun...y'know that?" Keigo murmured, the feather around your neck lifting to trail its tip against your lips. "And it's a goddamn shame I'm so fucking exhausted." He laughed breathlessly, his eyes low and hungry in the dim light. A playful smile curled your lips at that and you pressed a kiss to the tip of his feather.

"That makes it a double shame then because trust me hot shot, you’re not the only one who’s dead on their feet. Soooo to me, that means we just have to get some sleep and who knows~" You grinned up at him then, a hand coming to brush against the afterfeather and up to where it attached to your necklace. You relished in the full body shiver he gave, his eyes fluttering closed, his teeth sinking slightly into the corner of his mouth.

"We might just be in shape to handle some…." 

"Morning exercise?" Keigo offered, smoldering topazine eyes locked onto yours, his voice low and sultry. His wings were lifted high, flared slightly to subtly show off his plumage as his instincts demanded.

"Mhmmm~" you purred in return, letting your hand slip from the feather to gather him to you, giving a giggle at the small noise he made at being pulled out of his display and rolled back onto his side. His wings gave a quick flap, adjusting to keep himself from laying on them, and he give a low chuckle.

“Well in that case, let’s get some sleep..You know me (y/n), I love to help you stretch those beautiful legs of yours~” Keigo teased, his hands sliding down the soft curve of your exposed thigh to your knee and back up.

You hummed softly in your delight as you shifted, rolling over onto your side to stretch your arms out comfortably. It always confused you honestly, how romantic shows and movies would have people cuddling to sleep facing one another. The first time you’d tried that with Keigo, your arm had gone horribly numb and you couldn’t sleep worth a damn.

This though? Your back snug against his strong chest with his arm draped over you at juuust the right spot, one found through MUCH trial and error and many complaints about his forearm digging into your ribs. This was perfect...and you sighed comfortably, your ears lowering as you heard Keigo shift, slipping his arm through the slot in the special pillow you’d asked support to make for you. This way his arm didn’t go numb and you got to have a nice pillow to sleep on.

Despite being heroes, you both were still human and there were limits to what you could tolerate. Comfort was a necessity when it came to your lives, and needless to say, you two had cuddling down to an -art-. 

“And can I also say that I’m not a religious man by any stretch of the word, but I thank whatever deity is listening that you hate wearing sleep pants?” Keigo continued, a little huffing laugh coming from you as you wiggled your tail against his stomach earning a laugh from him as he scooted back just a bit to avoid the attack.

“H-hey! I’m just being honest!” He whined, and you smirked over your shoulder at him as you grabbed the small remote on the bed and tapped it, turning the lights off and dropping the both of you into darkness.

“I know you are Keigo~ That’s one of the things I love about you..” You murmured softly, feeling him tense just a little before he smiled and hummed his agreement into your hair.

“Yeah? What else do you love about me?” he asked, his voice soft next to your ear.

“Hmmm well one of them is poking me in the butt.” You snickered, earning an embarrassed huff from him.

“Well that guy has a mind of his own, I’m not apologizing. He knows quality when he sees it.” Keigo snarked, smiling into your hair.

“Oh does he?” You smirked as you closed your eyes. “I love your heart...your laugh. How you absolutely suck at making pancakes.” The offended scoff that followed only made your smirk curl to a smile.

“I love how you complete me…I’d go on, but we did say we needed some sleep and if I don’t stop there we’ll be here until the sun comes up.” You sighed softly and you didn’t miss the slight tightening of his arm and wing around you.

“Aw honeybun, you’re gonna make me all sappy…” He pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, his eyes closing as he lingered there. “We complete each other y’know? You’re my missing piece...what made all this shit mean something again..” A deep breath and a sigh against your skin and he shifted, getting a bit more comfortable. “Sleep tight (y/n), I love you…”

“G’night Keigo..I love you too..”

Taking a deep breath, you sighed it out, Keigo’s warmth and his soft breathing against your ear combined with the steady hum of the fan and the quiet murmur of the city outside your window was your lullaby, pulling you comfortably into a deep sleep. The smile on your face never slipped away as you rested there...after all...you had some morning exercise to look forward to with your best partner~

Love...trust...

It was what held your relationship together through all of the nonsense that was going on in your lives. You knew of course about the league of villains, about what he had to do. Those big ears of yours weren’t just for show...and you still remember the fear on his face when you had told him about what you had known.

You had been on your patrol, (h/n) and Hawks, him in the air, you along the ground, but the two of you had settled on the roof of an abandoned warehouse for a break as the sun began to dip past the buildings. Moving to sit on the edge of the roof, you sighed and laid back on it, letting the wind ruffle your hair and the fur of your ears before you broke the silence.

“Hey Hawks?” “What’s up (h/n)?” “I’ve got a hypothetical for you.”

“Ooohoho? I do love a good hypothetical~ hit me.”

“So! Hypothetically, if someone finds out that someone they love is going deep undercover and having to do something that is diametrically opposed to what they stand for in order to protect the greater good. What do you think that someone would do?” 

Your eyes had met and Hawks had an absolutely unreadable expression on his face, the fear in those topazine eyes and how he had frozen to the spot was something you had never seen before. Just like that, the roles had been reversed. The predator had become prey. He had been trembling and you of course had noticed, but your face had stayed calm.

“Well, seems like cat’s got your tongue Feathers, so….I’ll give my answer first and you can say yours.” You hummed, shifting to sit up and letting your legs dangle over the edge of the roof and you kicked them slightly, your ears perked as you admired the sunset which was quickly drenching the city in twilight. 

“I think, that person...if they truly understood their loved one, would know what they have to do is important...and just because they might have to do something bad, doesn’t mean they like it..or that it changes who they are at their heart.” You mused, your fingers coming up to trail your fingers against the feather around your neck. 

“And of course, they would understand that their loved one COULDN’T say anything because...well that kinda defeats the whole purpose of being undercover right?” You looked over your shoulder at him giving a sweet smile and a tilt of your head as you picked up the feather and held it gently to your pulse point. 

“So of course, that person would never say anything...because that would only hurt their loved one and they would just do their best to be there for them and support them when they come back home. What do you think Hawks?”

Hawks continued to stare and then swallowed the dry lump in his throat as he tried to process just what the fuck you just said. You...you knew...how the FUCK did you find out?! His mind was rushing, trying to think of something to say, something to DO...what could he do?! Did Endeavor know that you knew?!

What took him off guard the most though, was the calmness that you looked at him with. Those (e/c) eyes of yours weren’t angry...weren’t betrayed. 

Understanding and love...

That was all they held. 

The feather at your throat, right over where the blood rushed, held such a poignant meaning to him that it nearly brought him to his knees. You knew how dangerous his feathers could be, how if he had to, he could end your life with a thought...and also...your heartbeat. It was calm. No indication of fear, of lying...which meant that you really weren’t going to say anything.

His tight posture slowly dropped and he gave a breathless laugh, his wings giving a slight shake as he adjusted them, his hands slipping into his pockets as he walked to stand next to you on the edge.

“That’s ah...one hell of a hypothetical there honeybun, but yeah...I think you answered it in a shot.” He chuckled, giving a slight scratch at his chin scruff, looking down at you and his shoulders lowering slightly.

“Yeah? Guess I’m getting better at them!” You giggled, lifting the feather to kiss the center of it before letting it dangle down as you stood and began to stretch yourself out. “I think that’s enough of a break hm? Wanna get back to patrolling?” 

“Heh, sure thing~” His voice was the same happy go lucky chirp as always, but those eyes, you could see the relief in them as plainly as his wings. He now had a silent supporter, one who would be there no matter how much blood ended up on his hands and that was something he had never thought he would ever have:

Unconditional love.

[writingblackpink]

Coincidence (pt. 2)

Read part 1 HERE

genre: fluff

word count: 2.8k

pairing: rosé x reader

Wherein your friend drags you out to dinner and you meet a familiar face….but is that all she is?

A/N: surprise!! Here it is! Kind of fluffy! Let me know what you think :)

-

“Wait, wait, wait, let me get this straight,” Joy squinted at you, pacing in front of the couch you sat on, “The girl you took home from the bar was Rosie? The same Rosie we just had dinner with? The same Rosie that had you up against the wall of the women’s restroom, but you can’t remember if you fucked or not?” 

Your head instantaneously hit your palms. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to your roommate’s crudeness. “Shhhhhh….you don’t have to say it like that.”

Joy let you have the peacefully silent car ride home to think about how you would present the story to her, and as soon as you crossed the threshold into the apartment, she began berating you with questions on how you and Rosie knew each other. So now, you sit on the couch as she paces the room, deep in both thought and confusion as you both try to piece together what happened that night. 

At her silence, you continued. 

“Listen, I have a feeling nothing like that happened. If I was so wasted that I can’t remember what happened, there’s also a big chance that I wasn’t able to do much else.” You sounded more so as if you were talking to yourself, trying to convince yourself of what happened during the night in question, and not to your roommate who was also trying to help. 

She stopped pacing to respond. 

“Ok, but what about this incriminating evidence? I swear I was minding my own business but when I got home that night, you two were definitely in the middle of some intense….” she paused, looking for the right word, “necking…” she paused again, sour expression gracing her features, realizing that wasn’t the best choice of words, “on the couch.” She finished in a more accusatory tone.

You made a sound in frustration, throwing your head back in your hands, trying to wrack your brain for any fleeting memory. 

“I don’t know, just, can we stop talking about it for tonight?”

Joy shrugged and took a few steps to exit the room. 

“Y/N, maybe you should just ask her what happened.” She responded. 

“Better yet, maybe you should just ask her out on a date already!” She exclaimed over her shoulder as she continued walking down the hallway. You let out a sigh when you heard the door to her room closed, hoping you were off the hook at least for tonight. 

You opened your phone, staring at the lips as Rosie’s contact and as if you were on autopilot, you opened a new text message. You glared at the blank screen until you lost track of time, thinking through what you could possibly say, but you couldn’t think of anything clever at that moment so you exited the message and clicked your phone off as you got up and walked to your room, retiring for the night.  

--

Each day the following week, you found yourself in some weird sort of cycle. You would spend all day thinking about Rosie, what happened that night, how you would ask her out, and when you returned home you would open her contact in your phone, staring at the blank message screen until you chickened out and closed the app. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, Rosie kind of intimidated you, and you wanted to make sure you reached out in the best way if you wanted her to agree to go on a date with you. You don’t think you’ve ever been this nervous to impress someone.

By Friday, you were starting to get frustrated with yourself at this go around. When you got home and opened your messages this time, you finally typed something out, opting for something simple and straightforward, before hovering over the send button. 

Taking a few deep breaths, you pressed send, watching the message pop up in the chat. 

Hi Rosie! It’s Y/N from the bar...and dinner last week. I know this is kind of last minute and you’re probably busy but there’s this carnival happening this weekend and I was wondering if you’d want to go with me? 

You stared at the screen for what felt like hours before you saw that Rosie was typing. 

Are you asking me out on a date, Y/N?

She replied, and you could almost picture her smug smirk through the phone. That was something you already knew you admired about her - her unwavering confidence she had in herself. You wished you had as much in yourself.

Yeah, I guess I am 🥴

Your response was simple, but you saw her typing back almost immediately. 

Cute ☺️

Was the first message, and you thought that was all she was going to send until you saw the chat bubbles pop up again. 

I’m actually free tomorrow, Y/N. And if I wasn’t, I would have cancelled my other plans for you. I’ve been waiting for you to reach out. 

You blushed at the thought that Rosie was thinking of you too, and you wondered if she was feeling the same way. 

--

Clothes were strewn across the room as you tried to pick something to wear on your first date. Joy heard your grumbling and rounded the corner into your room, eyes widening at the mess you were making. 

“Why are you so freaked out?” She questioned, “From what I saw on both occasions, you could be wearing a plastic bag and Rosie would still look at you like...” She paused, failing to find a way to describe Rosie’s longing glances, “...well, you know.” and she left it at that, hoping you could make a conclusion based on that. You did.  

You continued rifling through your things as she spoke, realizing that if you didn’t hurry and get dressed, you’d be late. 

“I don’t know Joy. I don’t really know what’s going on with me, but Rosie just makes me so nervous. It’s like…” you stopped and looked up to the ceiling, deep in thought, “I want to be around her like all the time. Which is weird because we’ve only sort of met twice but I don’t know,” you continued, bringing your eyes down to meet Joy’s, “she makes me feel so much.”

Joy laughed at that, walking over and placing a hand on your shoulder, “wow, you really got it bad, Y/N.” As she exited the room, she offered a “good luck” and continued on her way. 

--

You settled on an oversized sweater and some jeans, something basic but also something you knew would keep you warm in the crisp fall air. Glancing at your watch, you let out a breath of relief to see that you were leaving right on time, which was kind of a first for you. 

The car ride was actually pleasant. You and Rosie made easy conversation over anything and everything, including music tastes, favorite colors and which rides and attractions you were excited to get to experience with each other. 

As you made your way into the carnival, you both agreed that you would hit the food trucks before anything else. Soon, you were settled at a bench, staring at the wild array of fried foods you had collected from nearly every booth. 

Neither of you said anything about the excessive amount of food in front of you, and you both sat, eating contentedly, conversation flowing freely. But the question still sat at the back of your mind, and you figured that there wasn’t a better time to ask than the present. 

“Rosie? Can I ask you a question” you asked, waiting for her to meet your eyes. She made an affirmative sound and sat up a bit straighter, letting you know you had her attention. 

Suddenly, a wave of nervousness washed over you and you didn’t really know why. You put your hands in your lap and moved your gaze to them as you spoke. 

“Um...so...this might be a little awkward...and embarrassing on my part,” you forced out, lifting your eyes to meet her curious ones once again. Her eyebrows were furrowed together in confusion, waiting for you to finish your question. 

“But the night we met...what exactly happened?” 

And you were surprised to hear a chuckle escape her lips. Her beautiful, beautiful lips. You realized you were staring as she started talking, so you drifted your eyes back upwards hoping she didn’t notice. The way she continued made you think that maybe she didn’t. 

“Well,” She paused, leaning forward and gave a lopsided smirk as she continued, “do you want the truth or do you want me to spare you?”

Cringing inwardly, you just wanted to get this over with and move on. Clearly she has, you thought. 

“Oh, god. Please just tell me what happened so we can move on from this. I don’t remember anything after we got back to my place.” 

She chuckled again, and you thought you might never get tired of seeing her smile or hearing her laugh. 

“Not much happened actually.” She stated nonchalantly. “We made out on your couch for a little bit and then…” She trailed off like she was trying to decide on whether to continue or not. 

“And then?” You asked, the suspense really killing you. 

“Well, you kind of…” she paused, clearly trying to figure out how to tell you what happened next.

“You passed out against my face. So I figured I would just help you get to bed and head out, so I sat you on your bed and went to rummage through your kitchen for some hangover meds and water, but when I got back you seem to have..” she paused again before continuing. “You seemed to have thrown up a little on yourself. And I couldn’t leave you like that so I found a towel and a t-shirt and got you changed and cleaned up before I found a post-it note and a pen to leave you a vague note and then I hit the road.” She got it out in a rush, almost like she would have rather spared you instead of telling you what had happened, knowing you would be embarrassed. 

Your face was hiding behind your hands before she was even finished telling the story. Honestly, you were more impressed at her resourcefulness in a place she’d never been before more than you were embarrassed, but you were also still embarrassed and you couldn’t completely let that feeling go. 

With red cheeks, you uncovered your face, seeing Rosie look almost as pained as you. 

Clearing your throat, you finally spoke in the smallest voice you could muster. 

“Thank you, Rosie, for uh, doing that for me.” You coughed again, hoping that would clear out the silence. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I tried coming on to you at dinner so that you wouldn’t think anything like that happened, but then you never called and I thought I ruined everything by coming on too strong. It’s ok though, I promise none of that changed the way I was feeling about you.”

“Really?” You piped up in surprise, thinking that incident should’ve been it for her, but then again she wouldn’t be here with you now if she did. 

“Yeah, really. I think I’ve been wanting to spend more time with you since then, actually.” She responded shyly, less confident than you were used to.

And it felt like a giant weight had been lifted off of your shoulders because damn, Rosie felt the same way you did. 

You cleared your throat again, trying to sound cool when you said, “Cool. Great.” and left the conversation at that. 

You could tell there was a tension that settled between the two of you after that. The Rosie you once knew as confident now seemed nervous, and all you wanted to do was get rid of the tension. 

Heading to the ferris wheel, you couldn’t help but notice the way Rosie tried to look everywhere but at you as you spoke, and the way she fiddled with her own hands as you waited in line for the attraction. When you got on the ride, her hands remained nervously in her lap, and she kept her gaze away from you as the ride made its ascent. As you made your way to the top, you watched as fireworks exploded in the sky, and as cliché as it sounded, you figured you should probably make a move. You hoped it would help drop the tension.

You reached over and grabbed her hand out of her lap, placing your hands in between the both of you and smiling when she turned to first look at your joined hands and then up to meet your gaze. She smiled back as you gave a gentle squeeze and you both looked back at the fireworks, almost feeling like you could reach out of the car and touch each light dancing in the sky. 

After playing some carnival games, which included Rosie winning you a small plushie (a turtle you both named ‘Bob’), she led you to a ride that looked fast and furious. You had Bob in one hand and her hand in the other, and you couldn’t help but bask in the twinkle in her eye when she looked over her shoulder and smiled, giving your hand another squeeze and pulling you along. Yeah, you definitely weren’t ever going to get tired of seeing that, and you were also glad that any nervousness Rosie was feeling after telling you how she felt was long gone. 

Stepping on the ride, you began tapping your feet on the ground and fidgeting in your seat. Of course, Rosie noticed. She was more intuitive than you originally had given her credit for, but also anyone within a ten-mile radius could notice you tapping your feet as the sound echoed through every inch of the metal.

“Hey, are you okay?” and the genuine concern in her eyes and the gentle squeeze she gave your hand, was reassuring enough to help you release any tension in your muscles. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You smiled back and took a few deep breaths just as the ride began moving. 

Getting off the ride, adrenaline was coursing through your veins. You ran off before Rosie, skipping a few steps before turning and waiting for her to catch up to you. She was chuckling again as she made her way over, and she began saying something, but you were so caught up in the way that her long hair, mussed up from the ride, was flowing down her shoulders and the way her eyes glistened a little from the wind blowing in her direction and her cheeks glowing with a soft flush from the adrenaline as well. 

You blamed it on the adrenaline when you surged forward and kissed her when she made her way to you. To your surprise, she kissed back, and you stood there, in the middle of the carnival, silently kissing each other as sounds from the rides and the games rang out in the background. 

You pulled back first and looked directly into her eyes. You were pleased to find her smiling back at you and without saying anything you began pulling her to follow behind you. 

A little while and a shared cotton candy later, you were back in your car bringing Rosie home. When you arrived at her apartment, you both sat for a minute, not sure what the next move was. 

“Thanks for taking care of me that first night -”

“Thank you for tonight.”

You both let out at the same time, and you both laughed. 

“You go first,” Rosie said. 

“I was just going to say, thank you for taking care of me that first night. I really appreciate you. I’m sorry you had to deal with me being a mess. You didn’t even know me. So thanks.” And you left it there.

“Y/N, it’s no problem, really. I think you would’ve done the same for me.” She paused, letting a beat of silence go by before continuing, “and thank you for tonight. I hope we can do this again very soon.” 

With that, the confident Rosie you remembered was back, and she was leaning over the console to place a gentle kiss on your cheek and pulled back. The touch was fleeting, but you knew you would feel the outline of her lips against your skin well into the night. 

She smiled as she opened the door, turning to wave when you gave a ‘good night!” in her direction. You watched to make sure she got in safely before pulling out of the parking spot to head home. Your cheek felt like it was on fire, and you brought your fingers up to touch the place her lips had been just moments earlier. You chuckled. It was no coincidence there was going to be a second date.

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part twenty-five

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

A/N: So sorry for the wait!!!! I'm back and ready to write! Here's part twenty-five, hope you enjoy✨ it's a bit of a fluffy/filler chap but it leads into the rest ;)

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot. I don’t own “Thinkin bout you” by Frank Ocean.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

I have your back

[Next morning]

Luckily, the next day was Saturday and Sarah rolled over in bed with a content sigh. Lengthening her arms out to her sides, she patted the bedding beneath her: she had fallen asleep on top of the comforter. Suddenly, the evening before came rushing back and she stilled, a barely contained smile stamped on her face.

He must’ve carried her to bed, she realized as she stood and stepped out into the hall.

She padded into the living room where she found Noir scrolling through her mp3 player.

He didn’t need much sleep to function and had soon grown restless. First, he’d skimmed through the books she’d salvaged from her bookcase; two were charred beyond recognition but he appreciated the rest of the book collection. Then, he’d made his way back to the stack of picture frames she had piled in a corner. There was the picture of her in Tokyo, which he marveled at tracing the lines of her face; a few other pictures displayed rolling landscapes and he wondered if she’d taken them herself; another picture of a desolated beach sat at the bottom.

Finally, he’d fixated on her mp3 player.

He knew of her fondness for music and quickly scanned her playlists: a mix of rap, 90s rnb, and alternative rock were oddly bunched together.

Noir slipped her earbuds in, settled back onto the couch and let Dr. Dre, Ludacris, and Frank Ocean keep him company in the early morning hours.

Time passed, and soon he heard Sarah moving in her room. He waited for her to come around the couch, gazing at her as she went. She smiled, seeing that he hadn’t slipped his mask or gloves back on.

She enjoyed seeing his expressions, the emotions that seemed to flash in his eyes. It was like being granted a glimpse into another dimension, a version of Noir no one else was privy to. It felt intimate, like another line of communication they shared.

Sarah was surprised to see him holding her mp3 and she leaned in, checking the screen. Noir inhaled her scent and tensed at her close proximity.

“Hey, Kendrick,” she approved, “that’s a good one, it always lifts my spirits, y’know.”

He looked at the screen, printing the title, Alright, into his memory.

To his surprise, she plopped down next to him, pulling her legs up to the side and leaning into his side. He tentatively reached behind her, gathering her closer. Sarah grabbed one of the earbuds dangling from the device and slipped it into her ear. Gently, she took the mp3 from his hands and flipped through her playlists. Finally, she settled on one song.

A tornado flew around my room before you came

Excuse the mess it made, it usually doesn't rain in

Southern California, much like Arizona

My eyes don't shed tears, but, boy, they bawl

 She leaned into his side and let the mp3 fall back into his lap.

“One of my favorites,” she murmured, and he could avert the sleepiness in her voice. “Do you listen to music,” she asked.

He signed. A little.

Sarah glanced around for the notebook but assumed it had stayed in the kitchen. Too comfortable to go fetch it, she went with the alternative.

“Ok, I’ll go through some genres and you stop me when I hit the ones you like.”

With her close proximity, looking up at him through heavy eyelashes, he thought he’d do anything she asked. He knew he should feel concerned at the amount of trust he’d placed in her, the strong hold over him he’d allowed her to develop. But he’d chosen, and he felt liberated.

She was still waiting for an answer, and he simply pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Sarah settled her head back on his shoulder, “Hmm…,” she mused, “Let’s see, rap and rnb.”

He pinched his fingers close together. A little.

She continued, “How about pop,” small pause but no response, “Rock music? Punk?”

The woman sped through a few more choices, ranging from trap all the way to gospel. Finally, she ran out of options and paused, thinking of other music genres she hadn’t thought of. However, she was pulled from her train of thoughts as he brought one hand forward, his fingers dancing close to his knee.

She quickly caught on, “You play the piano?”

He squeezed her slightly against him, and she took it as confirmation.

“So, you listen to classical music, I assume.”

Noir nodded. It had always soothed him to play the piano. It was comforting to excel at something so delicate and precise, when those same fingers could destroy anything they touched. It reminded him of the control he was taught to maintain ever since he could walk.

Sarah covered his hand with her own, her warm skin tone touching his.

I'm lyin' down thinkin' 'bout you (Ooh, no, no, no)

I've been thinkin' 'bout you (You know, know, know)

I've been thinkin' 'bout you

Do you think about me still?

Do ya, do ya?

 Or do you not think so far ahead? (Ahead)

'Cause I been thinkin' 'bout forever (Ooh, ooh)

 “I’ve always loved music,” Sarah began, and Noir immediately focused on her voice. “It’s what I need in every situation. Sometimes it makes me feel strong, invulnerable…” she trailed off before clearing her throat. “Other times, I’m just detached from everything and I need it to remind me I feel, and I’m human.”

Noir brought his other hand over hers, trapping it between his.

In the early morning, cream colored light filtered through the curtains and lazily traced their features on the large couch. After being up for three days, Noir was starting to feel the pull of sleep. And with her softly leaning into him, the mp3 playing soft music between them, he felt at peace. Utterly detached from the world outside.

He gently moved her so he could rise from his seat, passing his ear bud back to her. Sarah’s eyes widened and she stayed silent waiting for his next move. He’d spent the night and she knew he probably needed to head back to the Tower. Still, she felt an odd tug in her chest, like a string tightening around her. She settled down on the couch, stretching her legs out. Propped up on one elbow, she pressed back into the soft material.

She was surprised, however, when he began to dismantle his suit. She looked away flustered when she caught a peak of his toned stomach. Finally, lifting her gaze from the carpet, she found him stripping the last part of his chest armor, revealing a grey shirt underneath. He set the armor and weapons on a chair in the corner and returned, the top half of his armor gone.

Sarah stayed quiet, watching him as he laid back on the couch, facing her. He finally looked at her and wondered how it was possible to find such comfort in another person. She smiled and let him slip an arm under her head, the other one tracing lines down her sweater-clad arm. They were so close, she thought he could read her mind.

With the soft, hazy morning light filtering through the window behind him, the man appeared angelic.

She whispered, “I’m going to make you a playlist,” she promised, slipping his earbud back in place. Noir felt a shiver down his spine at her touch and reveled in the feeling. “And one day, I’d like to hear you play the piano.”

He nodded and his fingers began to dance against her arm, as if he were playing right then and there. She smiled again and snuggled against him with a deep sigh. In the enclosed space between the couch’s backrest and Noir’s body, she felt warm and safe.

And at that moment, he too felt himself slowly drifting off to sleep in the morning light.

 [A few hours later]

A few hours later, they finally woke up. While Sarah stretched, Noir quickly patched his armor back on and ducked into the kitchen where he gathered his gloves and mask. She watched him grab their notebook and jot a few words down.

I must go back

She nodded, understanding.

I will be back, he quickly added. He then mentally paused and wondered if that was a mistake. On the internet, he’d found multiple websites with dating tips where over-eagerness was something to avoid.

Sarah smiled at that, “You’re welcome to come over any time.”

He mentally sighed in relief. The silent man looked at her and reached forward to push a strand of curly hair behind her ear. She gazed at his pensive face and wished she could search his thoughts, understand what was bothering him.

He finally dropped his hand and took the pen back into hand.

Stay away from Homelander

Sarah stilled. She already knew to stay away from that man and avoid being noticed. She was supposed to blend in with everyone else. She already knew all of this and more, so why was he telling her this?

She frowned, “I know to be careful…” she trailed off. “Is something going on?”

He gazed at her for a long moment before cautiously answering.

He seems fascinated by you, she read. Underneath he added, Bad feeling

A shiver ran down her spine and she suddenly felt cold.

I will not let him hurt you.

She nodded more to herself than to Noir. They would need to accelerate the timing on her and Martha’s plan. They needed to finish before someone sensed what was going on. Before Homelander looked into her profile a little too closely.

Finally, she looked up at Noir and spoke with a hint of amusement, “You know I can hold my own, right?”

Believe me, I know, he wrote, and Sarah was surprised to see a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She laughed but quickly grew serious again and thanked him.

He had her back and she felt comfort in knowing it.

Noir slipped his dark, skull-like mask back on and quickly head out the back.

She watched him disappear and thought of his words. Her heart sighed at the idea of seeing him again, while her mind sharpened at the work ahead.

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724 ​  @proximio-5 @damiminator @omegahighendpro @rpgluvr95 @sweetrabbitteamx @rayray1463 @mialexisrodrigues @angelocipriano @reborn-rekall

[ticklikeabomb]

Grouch - Part 7

Pairing : Bucky x Plus Size Reader ; Avengers x Plus Size Reader

Warning : Language ; Angst ; Mention of Smut

Word Count : 1.2k

Disclaimer : I do not own the characters, nor the universe where they were created and interact in. This series/fiction is only for entertainment purposes.

A/N : I know it was long but I finally managed to come up with something. The next part will be the finale :) 

They nodded and your eyes landed on the prosthetics. “They’re gorgeous. Thank you”, you tell Shuri and T’Challa. For the first time you smiled in what felt like ages.

“When can I put them on? I have a revenge to plan!”, you exclaimed with a small smirk and dark eyes.

--

Shuri began the procedure of reattaching the prosthetics into your skin. “Are you sure? We don’t have to fi..” “I’m sure”, you replied with a determined voice. She took a deep breath before warning you it would hurt. “Ready?”, she asked to which you nodded. You felt the laser proceeding into reconnecting your skin and cells to the prosthetics and bit on your teeth, trying to conceal your pain but didn’t manage completely and let out groan mixed with deep and heavy breaths. The feeling wasn’t new though. The same procedure was inflicted to you by Hydra when they turned you into the Soldier. The only difference is that you didn’t asked for it the first time. The choice was taking from you. “Barrrrnss”, you whined. “What?” You closed your eyes and said through greeted teeth, “Bring me Barnesss”. Shuri nodded at the guard and she stepped out of the room.

He entered the room after Shuri attached the first of the four limbs. He felt small by the door, his heart beating frantically. He didn’t know why you specifically asked for him. A mix of fear and hope crossed his body when your piercing gaze landed on him. “Come herrre”, you exclaimed and saw him slowly approach. You reached out to his metal arm and he grabbed yours in return. In a swift movement, he was on his knees, your arm gripping on his with force. “I left the Avengers because of you. You played a part on why this happened to me. If I have to relieve this pain, so will you”, you told him. His eyes were locked with yours, his breath short before he nodded, “I’m sorry Y/N”, he whispered with glossy eyes.

Yours landed on Shuri and she focused her attention on assembling your second arm. The pain felt more bearable while holding his hand but what wasn’t, was the constant back-to-present memories. The flashes of dark and cold of the past Hydra bunkers mixed with the white and colorful rooms of the present moment in Wakanda. The hostile faces kaleidoscope with the concerned ones. The “weak” transforming to the “stay strong, it’s almost over”. The bad and the good in cohabitation. You in your very essence. Is it a rebirth or the unveiling of your true self? At the last limb, you were numb, emotionless, the only human motion being your silent tears rolling down your face. This time it was Bucky who held your hand strongly in his, showing he was with you. Your vision went dark.

---

You were woken up by freshness and coldness coming in contact with your burning skin. Once your eyes adapted themselves to the room’s light, they travelled up. Above you stood Wanda, a wet napkin cooling your forehead. “Hi”, she whispered. You noticed that her eyes and expression were different. “Hey”, you mumbled dryly. She turned around and took the glass of water that was resting there. Presenting it your way, you stretched your arm and the second your hand touched it, your grip flinched, making the glass brake into pieces on the floor. “Fuck”, you groaned. You lifted your upper-body from the bed, discharging the banket when your legs touched the floor. You slowly tried to stay on your feet which you did until you decided to take a step and fell to the ground. “You have to get used to them”, stated Wanda and nodded at your renewed vibranium members before helping you get up and sit you on the bed. She immediately sensed the anger that crossed your body for having to depend on someone else.

After thanking Shuri and T’Challa for their hospitality and providing you new prosthetics, you spend the following weeks doing reeducation and training at the compound; taming your new members as fast as you could. The Avengers stayed at your side in helping you doing so. You still had mixed feelings regarding the duality of the situation and yourself but the team noticed that you were slowly warming up to them which made them happy. It was still complicated with Bucky even if he did everything in his power to be by your side. The hatred, the rude comments being replaced by encouragements, motivation and kindness.

You were on week 7 of your reeducation and it was time to test your fight moves and combat abilities. The first fight was against Natasha. You gave her a run for her money and ended up winning the duel thanks to your rapidity and your expertise. You had to face Rogers next. “Don’t go easy on me”, you nod at him. He chuckled before replying, “Not my plan.” “Good”, you whisper before attacking. You both kept the pace, dogging each other’s punches, waltzing up and down the mattress until you took the upper hand and plastered him on the ground, your arm pressing his behind his back. You lost control of your strength and the next sound heard was Roger’s scream and his shoulder popping. You immediately left his arm and crawled back as far as you could from him, your body trembling. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”, you repeated several times before standing up and running to your room.

After the accident with Rogers, you kept your distances, going out of your room only when you knew that no one would be around. Steve and the others would knock on your room, telling you it was nothing, that he wasn’t mad but you wouldn’t give in. The only person who managed to get contact with you was Wanda because she was not only stubborn but also you because she was very powerful. She kept you company, well aware that hurting Steve was taking a tool on your mental. “I had a conversation with Steve”, she said one night when you were both looking at the screen without paying much attention to the movie playing in it. Your eyes crossed hers knowing exactly what you would see in them. You swallowed painfully before looking back at the screen. You were about to open your mouth when she intervened, “Don’t! Fix it”, before leaving the room. You let out a heavy breath, your body relaxing until a knock was heard at the other end of your room’s door.

You opened the door and saw Steve standing in front of you. You let him in and closed the door behind him. “Are you ok?”, you ask him while checking on his arm from afar. “I’m fine. Are you?”, he asked in return, his piercing blue eyes fixed on yours. “I could have severely injured you”, you tell him. “It’s part of the job”, he replies to which you shake your head. He cleared his throat before declaring, “I talked to Wanda. She’s in.” “Bucky?”, you ask and he nods.

The room stays silent for what feels like an eternity, the only sound being your breathing. Not taking it anymore, Steve reduces the distance between you and crashes his lips against yours in a painful kiss, the warmth of your mouths consuming each other. “Fuck I missed you so much”, he breaths in your face, his hands squeezing your waist. “I missed you too”, you breath out before claiming his lips in a feverish kiss. Your hands cup his face, your eyes on each other, “I hate this secret”, you whisper. “We’ll be free soon sweetheart. Just one more mission”, he says. You nod and declare, “Kill the Avengers!” He nods, lifts you up and lays you on the bed, his lips and hands claiming your body and soul the way only he knows how to do.

*credit of gifs and picture to owners*

PERMANENT TAG LIST : @arrowswithwifi @poetic-pixie @theshortegg @kyber-hearts-and-stardust-souls @prettybubblesintheair @yafriendlyfangirl @marshmallow-witch @ms-cellanies @the-feckless-wonder @cfisher290 @thefangirltheycallviolet @river-fics @lilulo-12 @fanfictionrecommendations-com @spetzerfehn @angieptt @wayward-timetravel-collecter @ashley17jacobs @lokithedancingqueen @wildsoul1221 @introvertedsin @robertconradjr @francezka10  @titty-teetee @breezy1415 @nerdypinupcrystal @hhiggs

SERIES TAG LIST: @lianadelphius @buckysthing @alicedopey @leasly @nopevilleluas @chaoticfiretaconerd @sailorgirl00 @coolest-avenger @mikaelasingswritesloves @havlindzk @everything-is-awesomesauce @supernatural-agricultural-angel @paracosmfantasy @superavengerpotterstar @shookmcgookqueen @thequeenreaders @starrykitn @el-dibidibidorado1 @krazykatkay456 @im-an-angel-of-the-lord-you-ass @thebookisbtr​ @cracked-pean​ @sslytheringhufflepufff​

[thetrashywritingwitch]

So I'm doing something that involves one of ur pieces (nothing bad I promise) and I noticed you used purple for shading. I was like 'wait, what?' Bc I typically color drop the base skin tone and bring down the darkness of the base skin tone, then color areas where the light doesnt hit. that's how I shade. But it looked weird when I was shading now that I noticed, so I tried shading the skin with purple and??? It looks so much better??? May I ask for your tips on shading please?

ok now i can finally answer this question

this is all about color theory and understanding how light and shadow works! imo work will almost always look kinda flat if you’re just colorpicking from the same color family and making it lighter/darker or adding black/white to the color to change the value for your highlights and shadows. because skin isn’t just one flat color and light has TEMPERATURE!

to understand how to light things, you gotta understand warm and cool colors and how those relate to lighting different planes of an object (in this case a person). i learned this shit in college bc i took color theory classes and had like, two good professors who talked about color plus all the good info that’s out there on the internet with lighting tutorials.

i started shading my shadows with purple in college and it always makes much deeper and more interesting color variations. an exercise you can do is to take a well-lit photograph with good light and dark values, color pick them, then check the color family they’re in. orange-based? blue-based? yellow-based? this is stuff that requires actual study and trial and error to understand so don’t feel bad that it’s like, a revelation bc coloring is fucking tough

this isn’t set in stone but generally: things closer to the light source are warm and things further back are cool. there are warm and cool variations of any color (cool reds and warm blues for example), but this is a very basic thing you can start researching. purple and blue can push your values back while warmer colors can bring them forward. and then you have things like ambient occlusion where a cool plane meets a warm plane and they have make a nice little light baby in the middle-

... ignore that metaphor

but ANYWAY yes! i generally shade with purple on a multiply layer (absolutely take advantage of layer modes if your painting program has it. multiply, overlay, lighten, screen, etc are all good ones to mess with). This is something that’s been discussed a lot when it comes especially to painting darker skintones. it really does a disservice to the variety of colors in skin when we only add white/black to shade things

take a look at this art from David Dennis for example. there’s really great purple hues in the skin and it adds nice warmth and color variation that makes it cohesive with the other purple elements. understand your tertiary colors and the color wheel bc that shit can save your ass and your art

then we have a very dramatically lit picture like this (a photo of Seal) and its just??????? so nice???? its ALL blue and purple and black and maroon and red but you know exactly what’s going on and how the planes of the face are laid out

uhhh ok art tutorial over hope this helps! the best bit of advice i can give ngl is to look up some tutorials on how to shade darker skin tones because black artists are always discussing the frustration they face with art that just falls flat (and i’m talking about official character art and character models for games and shit, not just fun tumblr art). we can always work to improve and it’s very important to make sure we’re getting information from diverse groups and people

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Out Tonight (Part 5)

<- Part 4 | Part 6 ->

Summary: It’s been 24 hours since you woke up next to a panicked Rafael Barba who turned out to have been much drunker than you thought. Despite the blame and confusion, there remained a primal attraction that led you to decide to try a (sober) date. Was this a terrible idea? Do you have anything in common besides drunk karaoke?

This was supposed to have smut but it’s just a date XD Smut next time! Soon!

3,431 words

Drunk. He must have still been drunk that morning. There was no other explanation for his wildly impulsive, juvenile decision to accept a date with you after that fiasco of a morning, waking up in your hotel with zero memory of what was almost certainly an even bigger fiasco of a night.

But he had agreed to it. Given you the address of his favorite coffee spot that didn’t have wheels. Set a time. It seemed childish to back out on you at the last minute just because he’d had twenty-four hours to sober up and think about his life choices. And so, Rafael Barba stood outside, leaning near the door out of the way of foot traffic, impatiently glaring at the minute hand of his watch.

At least it was only breakfast. Nothing exciting in the history of the universe had ever happened this early in the morning. Everyone in the relatively small Sunday crowd seemed too tired to be here. He would show up for one bleary-eyed date like an adult, make sure you were still alright, and, assuming your story hadn’t changed—that you hadn’t remembered something traumatic he’d forgotten he’d done—you could both part ways with a clear conscience.

***

The GPS on your phone indicated you were at the corner of the street you needed to turn down. There would be no going back if you turned that corner—the cafe was just a few doors down. You almost turned around and walked back to your hotel, but before you could leave, you saw him. Across the street, under the awning of the cafe, a short, well-dressed man radiating authority stood checking his watch with the words “Why the hell did I agree to this?” creased into his brow. You recognized that expression from your own face and almost laughed, only holding it in because you didn’t want to be that crazy person laughing to herself in the middle of a crowd.

His handsomeness had not been an illusion of the drink and low lights of the bar, you realized as you crossed the street. He was really fucking handsome. He wore another stylish and expensive suit, a colorful blue-striped tie, and you assumed suspenders under the jacket, and his dark hair was groomed with precision to the side.

By the time you were close enough to hear his voice calling out to greet you, you remembered kissing him, and how solid his chest felt when your arms were wrapped around him. A flush of heat warmed the base of your spine, and suddenly you were glad you had made this date after all.

Barba was not so sure. Not at first.

He wasn’t certain he would even recognize you in a crowd, but the moment you turned the corner, he spotted you. Your face was permanently stamped into his memory, right along with the time he wet the bed at a sleepover in second grade and the waitress to whom he’d replied “you too” after she told him to enjoy his meal.

The first thing he noticed was that your clothes were not as nice as he perceived when he was drunk. What little memory he had of karaoke painted you as a perfect goddess of seduction, with legs that went on for miles, wearing couture woven by angels out of dewdrops. Even in your disheveled state the morning he could remember, he had maintained a lofty impression of your image, or what he imagined it would be when you cleaned up. But the cute little sundress swishing around your knees as you crossed the street was not designer. It looked nice on you, but was more comfortable, practical, and a bit hippie-chic. You were even wearing a backpack instead of a purse. Your whole aesthetic was woefully down-to-earth. Like a Subaru. You were the Subaru of people.

Yet, even his unfortunate habit of judging people based on their clothing couldn’t dull the spark he felt when you drew close enough to smell your shampoo and look into your bright eyes. He couldn’t help feeling irrationally protective when those bright eyes froze as you stood in front of him, almost spreading your arms for a hug, then almost extending a hand, and then staring like a panicked deer that wandered into Times Square.

“Good to see you,” he smiled, pressing your shoulder amicably, sparing you from the decision.

***

After a short wait in line to order your latte and croissant sandwich, Barba squeezed into one of the tiny seats at one of the tiny tables in front of the window, and you squeezed in next to him. It was such a tight fit, your shoulders almost touched every time you lifted the mug to your lips, and your legs bumped accidentally amid stammered, awkward apologies.

“So...” you began, and your voice sounded far away, like you were trapped deep inside your own skull operating levers to make yourself speak. And you had nothing planned after “so,” and nothing came to you organically, so even though it was a trite, over-used question, you sputtered out, “How have you been?”

“Not bad,” he replied, just as stiffly rote. “You?” The boilerplate question sparked a deeper concern, and he twisted in his seat to grab your eye contact under a furrowed brow, and asked more seriously, “Are you OK?”

Your cheeks burned. He must have noticed how weird and nervous you were and thought there was something wrong with you. “I-I’m fine!” you squeaked.

His brows stayed wrinkled with worry. He lowered his voice. “If you… remembered anything. Anything painful. Something you need to work out, to process… report? I want you to know I will support anything you need to do. If I hurt you, I will do whatever it takes to make it right.”

“Oh!” You nearly spilled your drink. “No, no! God. Nothing like that. Just… embarrassment. Shame. I mean, if anyone should be angry or need to process stuff, it’s you. That was all my fault.”

He breathed a little sigh and his shoulders relaxed. He nodded to himself and turned back to his coffee. With a sideways glance and a sly smirk, he added, “You know, you shouldn’t incriminate yourself in front of a prosecutor.”

You were pretty sure he was joking, but your laugh was tight and high in your throat, and your palms began to sweat.

“Actually—” you reached into a pocket and pulled out your phone, “Tengo unos fotos… if it will help you remember?”

He stopped mid-sip, set the mug back down on the narrow shelf of a table, then coughed into his fist. A near spit-take. “What do you mean, you have photos? Qué tipo de fotos? Muéstramelas.”

Barba had forgotten, or didn’t care, that your Spanish wasn’t terrifically fluent and made his demand at a rapid, clipped pace. Fortunately, your first instinct was to show him.

It was a good thing he had already set down his coffee, because his eyes went wide, and he choked on the air. Picture after picture of him red-faced and disheveled, most of them with a wolfish grin and his hands all over you. He still had on his tie and the grey peppering his temples was evident, and you looked so young and innocent you could almost be mistaken for underage in the soft lighting. The angle of the selfie drew attention to your cleavage. You flipped back once more, and a crackle of tinny audio burst from the phone speakers as a shaky video of Barba singing the tail end of One Song Glory began to play. “Shit,” you cursed, and muted it.

“Delete that,” he croaked, raking his fingers down his face. “God, this is a scandal. Those look—I look—” His eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head with a brash, hostile grin. “Is this blackmail? Is this blackmail amateur hour?”

“What? No! Why would this be… Oh my god, are you cheating on someone?!”

He scowled with indignation at the very suggestion. “I would never cheat on someone. Those make me look like a… a boozy lecher. It could damage my reputation if they got out. Why do you have those?” he hissed, feigning a pleasant smile over gritted teeth. It looked like it hurt his face.

“You told me to take pictures and send them to a friend! You kept going on about ‘gathering evidence’ in case things went sideways.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he scoffed. “It is sound advice,” he considered. “That sounds like me,” he concluded, pinching his brow.

“I’ll delete them all, OK? See? I’m deleting them.” You clicked the trash button and watched them disappear one by one as Barba’s blood pressure went down. “Ooh, I’m keeping this one, though,” you said, fawning.

You flipped the screen to show him a selfie of him smiling wide and carefree, cheeks flushed, his arms wrapped around your shoulders, and you kissing his cheek. It was sweet, almost chaste. The karaoke stage was in the background, and you both looked like you were having a great night.

Present-Barba’s horrified expression didn’t soften. Your face fell. “Alright, I’m deleting this one too,” you soothed.

Your wistfulness must have tugged at his heart as you gave the picture one last look, trying to memorize the happiness you’d felt when you took it. With your finger poised over the delete button, he caught your wrist. “No… If you really like it, that one isn’t horrible. Just don’t send it to anyone in the DA’s office. Por favor.”

“I won’t,” you promised. His eyes were an overpoweringly lush green as they fixated on yours so close up, and you could swear there was a spark of the connection you’d felt that night. Then he blinked, and it was gone, self-consciously letting go of your wrist.

With that matter resolved, Barba became cold and distant, as if all he’d come to do was settle things from that night once and for all, and now he was done with you. You tried to carry the conversation forward, but he met your efforts to bond with the sober version of him with minimal, dismissive responses, leaving you in uncomfortable silence. He would barely even look at you anymore. It made you feel small.

Barba was right—you didn’t know him.

The mood was tense as you quietly chewed your croissant, and it would have been tenser if not for the cramped tables. Had you a spacious seating arrangement, you might have felt the distance between your two obviously different lives stretch out between you like a vast, insurmountable chasm.

Had you met the real Barba first, you would have known this guarded, cynical, tightly-wound ball of nerves and assholery would never sing karaoke without being three sheets to the wind.

The effortlessly charming open-book of a man you’d been wooed by two nights ago was a fiction crafted by alcohol. Without his flirtatious nature to offset the severity of his bespoke suits and high-profile job, you were weighted down with the thought that this man had his shit together more than you ever would. He was too good for you. He thought so, too. You saw that look in his eyes, the sarcastic quirk of his mouth as he glanced over you outside the cafe, though he’d tried to hide it. Your entire outfit cost about a tenth of his jacket alone, and his rich-jerk radar honed right in on it. Barba said you might not like him sober, and he seemed keen to prove himself right. When he finally did ask you questions, it felt like you were failing a test—his brow going up because you had never heard of some famous restaurant or popular composer, proving yourself a cultural dilettante in spite of your mutual love of RENT. When you asked about his job, he was all but sneering at your lack of legal acumen on what he considered very basic things.

You would have downed your latte in under fifteen minutes, shaken his hand, and never seen him again if not for one seemingly unimportant fact.

The table was cramped.

Forced to sit so close together, waves of his scent kept washing over you like an aphrodisiac. He smelled radically different than last time. Then, he was steeped in the stinging smokiness of scotch whisky and the heady musk of sweat from a long day on his feet in the courtroom and the claustrophobic press of bodies at the bar. Today he smelled clean, like fresh soap and a woody, spicy, citrusy cologne as old-fashioned and classy as his suspenders. There was something profoundly soothing in the way he smelled. Soothing enough to push back your anxiety about being unworthy of his attention, and enough to enjoy the sparks of heat spreading under your skin every time your elbows or legs bumped.

The smell of him and the press of his body was enough to make you horny, angry, and bold enough to take him by the hand once the date was done, and drag him somewhere you could teach him a lesson about underestimating you.

***

“You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you?” you growled over your shoulder, as if that was meant to be an answer to his question of “Where are we going?” He fell a step behind your determined pace as you literally pulled him down the sidewalk with a scary, but—he had to admit—sexy fire burning in your eyes.

“I never said that,” he cried unconvincingly, and felt he rather deserved it when you scoffed in response. He could be hard on people who couldn’t keep up with his standards, unless they were the victim of a horrifying enough crime to stir his compassion. And now that he was sure he hadn’t hurt you, well… you were just some woman from a bar who didn’t know the difference between civil litigation and criminal trials.

The fact that the neckline of your dress was so dangerously low, he caught a peek of something he shouldn’t when you leaned over your latte was just another reason to distance himself from you. He cursed his weakness for the tightening in his pants.

But that picture stuck in Barba’s mind. He was ashamed of his behavior, but at the same time, he was fascinated by this other Barba. The smiling Barba who didn’t make a million anxious excuses for why he couldn’t or shouldn’t be with someone he desired, who didn’t tell himself to wait, and wait, and wait until they were gone. He looked so comfortable with the woman on his lap in that picture. He wondered what exactly happened to make you grow so close?

After marching for several blocks, you finally slowed down where the geometric grey concrete of the city broke upon an oasis of wild green. Barba hunched forward, catching his breath in front of the entrance to Central Park closest to the pond. “Alright,” you challenged him with your hands on your hips, “Name one of these trees. Just one.”

“Shirley.”

You narrowed your eyes until he dropped his clever little grin.

“Worth a try,” he shrugged, straightening up. He unbuttoned his jacket to let some of the heat out. He pointed to a large tree near the path with three-pointed leaves and smooth, camouflage-patterned bark. “That’s a maple,” he said with confidence.

You raised your eyebrows at his breathtaking ignorance and tutted. “Oh, Rafael, that’s such an easy one. This is an American Sycamore, Platanus occidentalis. The bark is a dead giveaway, and maples have opposite leaf arrangement, while sycamore is alternate. But I’ll let it slide since the leaves are similar.” Your voice was dripping with intellectual condescension, and he immediately understood that you had brought him here to humiliate him. A familiar roar burned inside him that he felt any time someone thought they could get the better of him. His sharp eyes bore into yours, the slightest hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. Rafael Barba did not back down from a challenge.

He walked farther into the park, past sweeping rock formations covered with climbing children, and you followed behind, watching him as he swiveled his head in search. It was almost magical how the park felt like a trail in the countryside until you looked up to see the gleaming peaks of skyscrapers and 5th Avenue. Barba stopped next to a green park bench in front of a tall conifer with drooping branches. “Pine,” he said matter-of-factly. “I know what you’re trying to do, but even a city boy knows what a pine tree looks like.”

Except from the way your cheeks puffed out as you tried to contain your laughter, he apparently should not have sounded so sure of himself. Or you were just being vindictive, pretending he was wrong because you assumed he wouldn’t know the difference.

“That is a pine,” he insisted. “That’s basic middle school science class.”

“That is a conifer,” you corrected, still giggling at his expense, and his cheeks darkened with realization. Conifer. Pine. They were different things. He braced himself as you lectured him like a school teacher about how the Norway Spruce is in the genus Picea, while pine trees—and there was a White Pine right over there, too!—are in a totally separate genus, Pinus. When he tried to call it hair-splitting and trivia, you exploded. “You realize we live on a planet, right? All of human life on Earth couldn’t exist without forests—you literally need trees to breathe—yet you can’t identify a single one. Your furniture is made of maple, beech, oak,” you gestured to a few specimens, “but you don’t know what they look like growing in front of you. It is crazy to me how people lack even a basic understanding of the environment we can’t survive without. If we didn’t have laws, life would go on. If the whole world was paved like New York City, humanity would go extinct. So go ahead and judge me for not knowing who Puccini is when you know fuck-all about the planet.”

You had worked yourself into a lather, and all he could think was how much he wanted to kiss you. Your face was flushed, and you were so animated with passion for the subject as you laid into him—even though he knew nothing about it or even found it particularly interesting, he oddly enjoyed being torn apart by your arguments. You might make a great lawyer, if your clients were green.

“Are we even?” he smiled. “Now that you’ve judged me?”

You took a half step back and covered your mouth. “I… got a little defensive, didn’t I?” you cringed.

“Just a little,” he pinched his fingers together so they were almost touching. He stepped toward you.

“Sorry about that,” you laughed nervously. “Yeah. We’re even.”

He took another step closer, and you didn’t back away as he entered your personal space. He could feel his heart hammering behind his rib cage. Behind his over-dressed tie. His tongue darted unconsciously across his lower lip as he glanced down at that temptingly low neckline before snapping his eyes away to meet yours. He wondered if you’d noticed his glance. If you had, your reaction was not to slap him. There was a tentative hope shining in your eyes, breath catching as he stood too close to be platonic.

“So, you’re the Lorax,” he smirked.

“I do speak for the trees,” you said, glad to finally understand one of his references. “I work in conservation. Mostly management plans to control invasive species.”

He tipped his head back with a knowing “Ah,” that you were in some outdoorsy field. That explained your crunchy-granola vibe and the fact that you weren’t at all winded by speed-walking six blocks to get here. You fit in better here, surrounded by greenery, than in the city. You were some sort of forest nymph, a fae creature who had come out of the woods to seduce and enchant him, and spirit him away into the ether.

Your lips were close enough that he could capture them in one fluid motion of his neck, but he hadn’t yet, and now you were simply talking too awkwardly close together while a million excuses not to chanted in the back of his sober mind. So he reached for your hand instead.

“You know, there’s a whole field of environmental law that I am woefully rusty on…” he began. Linking arms, you chatted about your interests as you strolled through the park in the cool morning air of what would be a humid summer day.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

@beccabarba​ / @caked-crusader / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @da-po / @madamsnape921 / @charlottegrice / @onerestein​

[dc41896]

Save Room for Us

Hey guys☺️! So this is inspired by the songs “Save Room for Us” by Tinashe and “Should’ve Been Us” by Tori Kelly (idk if that’s a thing for an imagine to be inspired by two songs that but here we are lol). Also I feel like it’s a bit lengthy so sorry about that and hope you guys like it!

Pairing: Chris EvansxBlack Reader

⚠️: Tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff💕!

“Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon? Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grins? Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain? Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?,” you sing along with Pocahontas on the television screen while your 10 month old daughter, Ameera, sat in your lap as you finished securing the bow on her last puff.

Babbling as she gazes at the movie, the chime of the security alarm from the front door opening draws her attention as she crawls towards the armrest. “Looks like your favorite uncle is here,” you smile hearing her excitedly squeal seeing Chris walk into the room.

“I’m coming sweetheart just let me wash my hands first.”

Having stayed with him in his Boston home throughout the entirety of quarantine so far, Ameera had become attached to her new playmate. When he wasn’t being interviewed or working with Mark, you’d find the both of them laughing on the floor on top of one of his throws playing peek a boo or with one of her many toys.

Sometimes they’d even watch Disney movies together with Chris being the reason for her current obsession with Pocahontas. Both sat with eyes glued to the screen wrapped in a blanket eating a snack, you couldn’t help but secretly take a picture trying to hide your laughter at the adorable site.

“Hi meemo,” Chris smiles picking up the already giggling little girl and kissing her cheek before sitting on the couch beside you. “What have you been doing since I’ve been gone huh?”

“The usual. Eating, playing, fussing when she wants to watch her new favorite movie.”

“Sounds like you had a busy day,” he chuckles tickling under her chin. “And what about you? Still packing your stuff?”

“Yea I uh packed some of her toys earlier but that’s it.”

“You know, you don’t have to go. I don’t have a problem with you guys staying as long as you want. Even ma told me to tell you her place is open too,” he adds looking at you while your daughter plays with the pendant on his necklace.

Being your best friend, you knew he’d try to do whatever he could for you both, but that still didn’t take away the guilt you felt from the situation. You didn’t want to inconvenience him in any way with Ameera’s crying or her, at times, crazy sleep schedule especially since he was still working. He assured you that wouldn’t be the case though when he suggested you come stay with him during an impromptu venting session on your part.

Your parents wanted you to stay with them instead of being on your own in the apartment, but with five people living in a three bedroom house you knew things would eventually feel cramped. You were already stressed enough with everything going on and doing your best to take care of your baby. You didn’t feel like your family being on top of you would help.

And so here you were these past four months and counting living with your best friend from high school.

“I know, but my parents have been on my back talking about how they wish they could see Ameera in person and how I should be spending time with them, so I think it’s time we leave. Plus I’m sure you’re ready to get rid of us,” you laugh propping your elbow on the back of the couch.

“Never, if you guys wanted to live here forever I wouldn’t mind,” he smiles as Ameera taps his eyebrows with her small palms trying to get some words out but only releasing grunts making him laugh.

“Hey now, be gentle.”

“It’s ok, I know what she wants.” Raising his eyebrows and making a stern face, she wildly squeals showing her one tooth while grinning and bouncing up and down.

“Listen here small person, if you think you’re the most adorable one here you’re in for a rude awakening,” he speaks in a low voice further prompting her giggles.

“Why have you been doing Lucas Lee in front of my child?,” you laugh as he turns to you returning to his normal expression.

“Well she was fussy one day we were waiting for you to get out the shower so I did it making a funny face and she loved it. I guess it’s been our thing since.”

“Oh boy, I don’t think you know what you’ve created meera.”

“What? Everybody loves Lucas Lee,” he ruggedly speaks getting back into character. “That’s been proven from my numerous fan voted awards,” he winks making you lean forward in laughter and him join in soon after.

“Da-da!” Both of you snapping your heads to your daughter, you watch her giggle with hands on his chest as she presses her lips against his cheek trying to give him a kiss but leaving a slobbery mess instead.

“Da-da!”

“Meemo that’s your first word! Do it again, say da da!”

“Or how about we try uncle? Say un-cle!,” you smile playing with her hand.

“Dada,” she giggles again lying her head in the crook of his neck before letting out a soft yawn and making him aw as he gently sways her side to side.

“I can put her to sleep if you want?”

“No it’s okay I got her. Come on Ameera it’s nap time.”

Taking her from his hands, she pokes out her bottom lip as she begins to fuss not wanting to leave her uncle.

“It’s okay, I’ll be here when you wake up,” he tries to soothe only to be met with tears while you walk her to the guest room. Smiling to himself he hears you quietly sing the familiar melody over the baby monitor on the table eventually getting her to settle. Whenever he heard it, whether from your mouth or somewhere else, he was always brought back to visiting you in the hospital shortly after Ameera was born.

Tip toeing in the room behind your mom to surprise you, he found you alone with a content smile sitting in bed as you gently swaddled the tiny infant lying in front of you.

“My cherie amour, pretty little one that I adore, you're the only girl my heart beats for, how I wish that you were mine,” you sung carefully picking her up to cradle in your arms.

“I picked something up for you while I was out,” your mom smiled moving aside to reveal a slightly crouched Chris holding two large pink gift bags designed with cartoon storks.

“I thought you were away filming?!”

“Well, I heard it was someone’s birthday today so I’m here for the party!,” he answers kissing your temple as he gently hugs you with his free arm trying not to wake the currently sleeping bundle. “Welcome to the world Ameera.”

“Say thank you uncle Chris! You really didn’t have to get more gifts though, you’ve already done enough. And that especially goes for if there’s anything Patriots in there, you might as well throw it out now.”

“No there’s nothing Patriots in here now, but give it a couple years I’m gonna have her own jersey made.”

“You better not,” you both laugh startling Ameera as she begins to squirm and whine in your arms. Consoling her while you apologize, a soft smile forms on his lips as his gaze lingers on you.

Curls tied on the top of your head wearing your light blue ‘granny pajamas’, as you called them, and your glasses perched on your nose he knew you probably didn’t feel it but in this moment it was as if you were the most beautiful being he’d laid eyes on.

He always did think you were beautiful though from the first time you met, and now with the remnants of your pregnancy glow mixing with the one you already had from your natural beauty, he never wanted to look away.

“Hey, sorry about that,” you shyly speak interrupting his thoughts as you return to your seat next to him.

“About what the crying? Y/N I think I’m pretty used to that by now,” he chuckles while you shake your head.

“No, about her calling you dada. I promise we haven’t been practicing that or anything I was just as shocked as you.”

“Oh that, you don’t have to apologize,” he responds waving you off. “I mean she’s seen me everyday for four months, it’s understandable how it would happen. Plus I don’t mind if she wants to call me dad.”

“That’s very sweet, but what happens when you get a girlfriend? You don’t think that’ll seem weird to them your best friend’s kid calling you dad?”

“Well if after I explain why Ameera calls me dad they have a problem, then they’re not for me,” he shrugs.

“And what about when you have kids?”

“Then they’ll have an older sister. Like I said though Y/N if you’re not okay with it-,”

“It’s not that I’m not it’s just...,” you begin, sighing as you look down at the cushion below you trying to figure out your feelings. Of course it warmed your heart how he’d gladly fulfil that role for Ameera, but at the same time she wasn’t his responsibility. You didn’t want him to feel like he was obligated to do anything just because you were friends.

“Chris be honest, do you feel guilty because of what happened with me and Josh?”

Hearing that name instantly made him clench his jaw as he vividly remembered the night you confessed everything that was going on in your seemingly happy relationship. He just called to check on you and Ameera since it had been a while you two last spoke with him back working. You tried to stand strong saying how both of you were fine and updating him on how much she had grown, but being your friend for so long even through the phone he knew something was off.

That’s when you broke down explaining how Josh, your then fiancé, was feeling “stressed” from the pressures of marriage and fatherhood, and how he found comfort in, Kyla, one of the trainers at the gym he frequented.

He’d never consider himself a violent man, but it took every atom and particle in him not to pay a little visit to Josh to take care of him himself.

“Because if you are, you don’t need to be. Meera is mine and his responsibility and if he doesn’t want to step up then-.” Lightly shaking his head, he grabs your hands scooting closer to peer deeper into your brown eyes that were nearly on the verge of tears.

“No no no no Y/N listen to me, what I do for you and for meemo is because I care so much for both of you that I will do any and everything I can. That’s how I’ve felt since we were younger, since you told me you were pregnant, and how I’ll always feel. If anything, the thing I feel guilty about is not saving you from that heartache.”

“Chris don’t do that to yourself, how could you have saved me? You didn’t know that was gonna happen.”

“No I didn’t, but maybe if I would’ve told you earlier what I’ve always wanted to tell you then...things would be different,” he responds seemingly nervous as he releases a breath and eyes look as if he’s trying to carefully choose his next words.

“Our junior year I realized I liked you as more than a friend and I wanted to tell you before I left, but I got scared. So, I figured by the time I saw you again I’d have built up the courage to tell you how I felt but that wasn’t until your graduation where I found out you were going away for college. I didn’t want to be something that potentially added stress or held you back so again I left it alone. Missed chance after missed chance and eventually you met Josh and once you got engaged I knew that was it. I had no more chances. Looking back though I wish I would’ve said something sooner and then you wouldn’t have to had go through all of that and-and...”

Becoming silent, he sighs raking his hand through his dark brown strands looking towards the wooden beams on the ceiling.

“...and Ameera would be our daughter and not just mine,” you finish as he slowly nods with hands covering his face.

“I know, I’m a terrible person for thinking that.” Removing his hands to reveal his reddened face, a small smile rests on your lips as you lift his eyelids open so he could look at you.

“You’re not a terrible person for wondering what could have happened if you did something differently, everyone’s done it in some way. And as far as saving me goes, yea it would’ve been nice but in my opinion, sometimes the things we go through serve as lessons to help us in the future somehow. So take failed relationships for example, those are lessons we learn that help build us to be who we’re supposed to be. And when we finally find our person, yea that’ll come with its own lessons too, but again it’s part of the building process and what we’ve already learned will help us in that relationship with them.”

Light eyes staring into yours, you feel a bit insecure as you sit back turning your attention to the tv as you grab the remote. “Then again that probably made no sense and sounded dumb and naive and-,”

Before you could come up with more adjectives, you feel warm lips and prickling hair tap the corner of your mouth making you instinctively touch the same spot as you look at Chris.

“I-I’m sorry I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. It’s just what you said earlier definitely wasn’t dumb and-honestly figures I missed because I didn’t ask you first and you didn’t even say how you felt-,” he rambles before your hand covers his mouth.

“Christopher Dork Evans shut up. Would it have been nice of you to ask me first? Yes, and you’re right you shouldn’t have tried to kiss me....especially when my lips were turned in another direction.”

Looking at you slightly confused as you remove your hand, you shift your gaze to his lips as you inch closer until he meets you halfway to connect with yours. Slow and passionate, your lips move together as if they had plenty of practice doing this before. Feeling your body being shifted to his lap, your arms join around his neck as his hands keep you secured to his body holding your back and creeping down until...

“What? What happened?,” he lightly chuckles after you giggle against his lips breaking the intimate moment.

“You weren’t lying when you said that’s your preference.” Quickly removing his hands from your butt the heat returns to neck and face as he nervously laughs.

“Sorry, force of habit. I mean not that every girl I kiss I instantly grab it, and not that I make out with a lot of girls-,”

“It’s okay dork, I don’t mind,” you giggle leaning back in to return to where you left off. Centimeters apart, you both look towards the table once you hear the beginning of a light cry from the baby monitor signaling Ameera had woken up from her nap.

“She’s probably wet,” you both speak at the same time making you both laugh.

“You relax, I got her.” Quickly pecking your lips, you move over so he can stand up to make his way to her room. Face pressed against the pillow held against your chest, you couldn’t get rid of the giddy smile on your lips as his words and everything that followed really sink in.

“Hey meemo! Have a good nap?,” you hear him ask through the baby monitor.

“Da da,” she replies sounding a mix of sad and tired as she holds up her arms to be freed from her crib.

“I know you weren’t ready to wake up yet were you? The nasty wet diaper made you wake up?”

Silently giggling to yourself with their back and forth exchange as he changes her diaper, you soon hear footsteps returning as you sit up to see her lying on his shoulder while he carefully sits down.

“It’s a little weird, but I’m gonna miss seeing drool spots on my shirts when you guys leave,” he chuckles softly rubbing her back.

“Well I was just thinking that maybe staying with my parents doesn’t have to be long term. Like maybe we could be there for a week or two then come back and do that every now and then. If it’s okay with you that is.”

“Yea of course I’d be fine with that,” he smiles. “What made you change your mind?”

“Meera’s really comfortable here and I don’t want to possibly disrupt that you know? Plus I’d probably have to FaceTime you every day and night or else she’d be upset,” you laugh lightly grazing your thumb back and forth against her tiny hand.

“And it’s just Meera feeling that way?”

“Okay, maybe that’s how we both feel,” you smile leaning up to kiss his cheek.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @themyscxiras @lady-olive-oil @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @renfrewscorner @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @jojolu @secretmysteriousperson @plokyu23

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for, or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

[thosequeenboys]

A Love is Lost, a Love is Won (Joe Mazzello/John Deacon-platonic)

A/N:  This was written for @deakys-chesthair who asked me for a soft Joe and John.  Hope you like, Love. Here’s my vision of Joe finally meeting John, who is living a gratifying life. They share their commonalities, joys and challenges. Also, Joe has an amazing movie in the works!! There’s a little repurposed content from a Love is Love chapter, now Joe-focused with mostly new material. The title is from Brian’s beautiful gem, Dear Friends. 

Warnings:  Reflections on death of parent and friend; some angst, mostly fluff

Sitting at the desk in his extra room just after daybreak, Joe eyed the weights and other exercise equipment around him, willing himself to work out for an hour. He sighed.  OK, a half hour. Nope. Not happening.  He stared hard, hoping the barbells could be moved through telekinesis and give his biceps a nice burn.  

Joe slumped into the chair and logged into his phone instead. He hovered his finger over the Instagram app and then dipped it gently. It had been quite a while since he posted. He moved into the bedroom and took a quick picture of himself next to his packed, open suitcase on the luggage rack. He added the caption, “Headed to the UK for a great project.  Stay tuned.”

As soon as he posted, the hearts and comments flowed:  inquiries and congratulations about the project, declarations of love and a few marriage proposals.  Given his non-existent love life, Joe wondered if he should consider them.  Not all of those stans were crazed, he reasoned with a smirk.  But then a wave of darkness crashed over him as snarky, negative comments were posted. Why were people outright mean?  His heart rate quickened and he felt a sheen of sweat erupt behind his neck, physical signs of rising distress and anxiety: What if his fans were disappointed and the reviewers panned the movie?  He wished he could call his father and hear his calming voice reassure him.  With that not an option, he turned off his phone to stop those negative thoughts.    

A few hours later, the phone rang with a London number.  He presumed it was someone from the production calling to provide some details.

“Joe Mazzello.” He answered cheerfully.

“Hello, Joe!” The sweet, melodic British accent was unmistakable.  “Brian May, here!”  

“Brian, Hi! Wow! What’s up??” Joe asked excitedly.  Had it really been almost a year since they spoke?

“Well, I saw on Instagram that you’re headed to the UK!  Another movie?”  Brian asked positively.

“Yes!” Joe responded, excitedly.  “A tango of espionage and romance.  Directed by Ron Howard.  He’s a great guy.  So far, so good.”

“That’s fantastic!” Brian said.  “You deserve it!”  

“Thank you! How have you been?” Joe inquired, adding, “I’d love to see you and Roger when I get settled in London.  I’ll be there a few months.”

“Things are good.  Families are good…Of course, we’d love to see you.” Then Brian hesitated, wanting to change topics.  “Uh, Joe, I have a proposition for you.   No pressure….I saw your post just before I rang John-Deacy-for our regular monthly call.  I mentioned you’d be in London.  He was very curious about you in a way he hadn’t been before.  He said it was time for you two to meet.  What do you think?”

“No kidding?? Wow!  Yes! I mean….you’re sure he’s ok with it?” Joe was excited, though a bit of trepidation crept in.

“Yes, very much so.” Brian said definitively.  “Veronica too.  I’ll email you his contact information.  It’s been a long time coming, yeah?  Will you let me know how it goes?” Brian inquired, his voice rising with curiosity.

“Of course.”  Joe said, thinking the conversation seemed surreal.  He refocused on the call.  “Great to hear from you.  I’ll reach out to John-and definitely will be in touch with you. And thanks, Brian. Thanks.”  

After Brian bid farewell, Joe smiled in a daze.  He couldn’t believe he’d finally be meeting John Deacon.   He laughed to himself as he conceptualized the reunion as a television mystery drama: “John Deacon: The missing link from BoRhap….uncovered years later.”  He was curious how the show would play out.

*****

Joe stretched his legs and settled in comfortably in the back of the cab as it drove through the well-appointed residential communities on the outskirts of London.  He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face if he tried. Nor did he want to. His mind was peppered with positive thoughts.  It felt good to have a day trip out of the city – and a break from the intensity of work. Though he wasn’t complaining; the filming was going very well.  The cast and crew were fantastic, and working with Ron Howard was a dream.  Not only was Ron a creative and supportive director, he and Joe bonded over their experiences as child actors whose impressive careers continued into adulthood.  The film had already garnered a lot of positive buzz.  Joe felt he was positioned for a professional resurgence, thought it took longer than he wanted.  The worrisome thoughts and sadness that sometimes lapped at him were at bay.  As the cab pulled into a circular driveway with two cars, the August sun ducked behind some clouds painting a silver lining.  He paid the fare and grabbed his backpack.  The footprint of a modest house was built out with additions.  He checked his watch as approached the heavy wood door and knocked, pleased he arrived right at the appointed time for tea.

“Hello, Hello!” Joe heard that unmistakable, slightly garbled voice enthusiastically approaching the door.

John opened the door and stepped out into the covered portico.  “Joe.” he said, extending his hand with a warm smile. “So nice to meet you.”  

Joe grasped John’s hand. “So nice to meet you.”  Joe responded. As Joe looked at John, decades of the bassist’s images flipped through Joe’s mind.  It was hard to believe this icon he had played on the big screen  was before him.  They were both overcome with emotion.  It was indeed a moment that couldn’t be scripted. Their hands still joined, they each lurched forward into a hug.  John rubbed Joe’s back affectionately, and Joe held John tightly in the embrace.

John pulled away and he took in Joe slowly starting with the wavy auburn hair sprinkled with golden highlights of the summer sun.  He moved down to the firm biceps protruding from his t-shirt and the outline of the broad chest. His eyes dropped and landed on his slender waist leading to fit legs accentuated by the low-slung black jeans.  He was even more handsome in person.  

“I clearly got a needed visual upgrade from my movie doppelganger.” John chuckled and winked at Joe playfully breaking his gaze.  Joe laughed and stared at John. He was struck by John’s charm and ease, considering all he had heard about him being dower and anti-social of late.  

“Come in, let’s get you comfortable.”  John said warmly, as held the door and he stretched an arm out toward the spacious living room off the foyer.  Joe unzipped his backpack and took out a blue silk pouch, which he slid into his front pocket.  He left his backpack in the foyer and took a few steps into the comfortable room.

This life lived, which he knew from his research, was laid out before him.  Gold records were displayed against a long wall in a den beyond. A long table in the back of the living room displayed photos in an array of elegant frames.   There were intimate shots of John’s family, as well as a few of him with various combinations of his band mates.  On the wall above the table hung a large framed photograph with about 20 people standing in a backyard.  Joe walked toward it, curiosity overtaking him, and then halted, suddenly sensitive about invading John’s privacy.  

“Oh, that’s….”John’s voiced hitched.  He walked up to the photo and beckoned Joe with a long finger.  John took a deep breath, steeling himself to go back in time to that moment. “That was September 1991.  Had everyone over for a cookout to celebrate Freddie’s birthday.  Veggie burgers for Brian, of course.” John chuckled, deflecting the emotions from the day, now rising in him.

“It was the last time.” He paused, his voice shaking a bit. “The last time I saw Freddie fairly at ease, before he…his final deterioration….”   Joe took a small step closer to the photo. Freddie’s thin frame was accentuated by the large belt around his narrow waist.  Freddie leaned into Jim, and John was on the other side of Freddie, his arm skimmed the singer’s back.  Roger leaned into John, and Brian eased closely next to smiling Roger.  All of their broods were in front of them. Freddie was enveloped by the love of his band mates and, though not legally acknowledged, his husband.

“That’s lovely.  Shows how much you all loved him.” Joe said.  John looked wistfully at the photo and then, he looked down.  His eyes scanned for a new subject, needing to distract himself. Joe related to that reaction; looking at photos of his dad since his passing conjured a range of emotions that sometimes felt too much to bear.  

John picked up a framed black and white photo of the band performing.  “This was one of our earliest shows, when I joined the band. I thought you did a great job portraying that time in the movie-the energy, the possibilities.  The four of us finding our togetherness….” He returned the photo to the table.

“Thanks,” Joe said, allowing a faint smile.

“Ah….,” John lifted a color photo in a wood frame which featured him in a blue t-shirt and pants standing behind Freddie at his piano, casting a loving gaze at the singer.   “Some version of this is floating around out there.   Freddie and me during “Somebody to Love” at the Montreal Concert.   One of Freddie’s favorites. He got me to sing on the recording, amazingly.” John laughed.  “There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do for him really.” John said solemnly as he stared at the photo.

“You were such a good friend to him,” Joe interjected positively.

“And, he to me,” John countered, his eyes intense.   John opened his mouth to say more, but closed it as Veronica entered.  She carried large tray with a teapot, butter, jam, sugar and cream-and a beautiful round loaf of bread on a wood cutting board.  She placed it on the coffee table that held plates,napkins cups and saucers.  The treats were surrounded by comfy chairs and sofas.

“Ah, here’s my blushing bride, Veronica.  Ronnie, Dear, this is Joe, Joe Mazzello.” John exclaimed.  Returning the photo, he shifted his focus to the present and his temperament to upbeat.

“Ah, I do see the resemblance.  A bit uncanny, actually.  ” Veronica intoned with a grin.  “Welcome, Dear. Come sit and relax. How about some tea and bread-made by John!” she offered graciously, as she sat on a chair and started to serve.

“Really?” Joe queried. “ I’m impressed!

“Well,” John said, a grin spreading over his face, delighted to launch into the explanation. ‘For many years, I’ve gone to this little café most mornings to get a cup of tea and a treat-and read my paper.  I read mostly online these days, amazing isn’t it? But I do like the feel of a freshly printed newspaper.  Anyway, they make lovely bread, and I spoke with owner about her techniques. I’ve always loved fresh bread-and the science behind it.  So, I took a class and have built bread baking into my routine.  It’s calming and nice to have a tangible product for your efforts. This is a cottage loaf, two loaves melded together.”

“We all enjoy this hobby,” Veronica enthused.

“This is fantastic, so buttery. Thank you,” Joe said, licking his lips after swallowing a generous bite.

After tea, John asked Joe. “Would you like to see the garden?

“I’d love to!” Joe said.

John led Joe through sliding doors into the expansive backyard that had a magical and peaceful quality to it.  Off to the side there was an intricate climbing structure in the shape of a castle, complete with a moat, drawbridge and turrets. The edifice included ropes, nets and bricks for climbing to the large room on top and a slide for a quick departure.  

“Wow, this is unbelievable!” Joe said.  John walked over to the castle, Joe in tow, and he flicked a switch under the slide.  Suddenly, the window of the top room was framed in colorful lights.  Joe’s mouth opened incredulously.  

“Was bored one day, and rigged that up.  The grandkids have their ice cream up there in the summer as the sun sets.” John said factually.

“Great to have a grandfather with an electronics degree.”  Joe said admirably. “Gosh, my nieces and nephews would have a field day on that. And I would too with them!” he added sheepishly.

“Uncle Joe, eh? How lovely,” John praised.

Joe nodded.  “Yeah, they keep me young.”  Both men laughed.   Joe looked around at the manicured plantings. “Your garden is stunning.”

“Thank you, yes, gardening is another past-time I enjoy.  Keeps me grounded. No pun intended,“ John said with a giggle.  “Let me show you my absolute favorite.”  

John led Joe toward a large bed surrounded by a white wood fence, and he opened the gate.  Twenty or so fragrant rose bushes of all colors surrounded a sturdy, hand-crafted bench, its weathered wood was lit by the late afternoon sun. John stopped at a yellow rose next to the bench that featured orange and pink shades at its billowy edges.  “This is the Freddie Mercury Rose!” (1)

“No? Seriously?” Joe bent to take in the heady scent.  John gestured to the long bench, encouraging Joe to sit.  John took a deep inhale of the fragrant roses as he sat and Joe joined him.

“Yes, RosaBatMercury, introduced around 1994.”  John elaborated,  “Fan club members raised money to name a rose in memory of Dear Fred.  It has special meaning for me; it helps pull me back when I start to descend into my caverns of darkness:  loss, sorrow, worry.  

“I have those caverns too.” Joe said, looking down.  “Especially since my dad died.”  Joe focused on the Freddie rose next to him to keep the tears at bay.  

“So sorry to hear. When did he pass, Joe?”  John asked softly.

“May 2018, as we were filming Borhap, “Joe said, looking down.  

“Must have been so hard for you.” John’s empathy showed in his eyes.

“Yeah, but the guys…they were so supportive. I don’t know how I would have gotten through it without them.”  Joe said.

Ah…good to hear you had their support.” John whispered.  Then he let out a loud sigh. “Fatherless sons. We can be a sad lot.”

“Yeah, I know your dad died when you were so young.  That must have been hard on you. I’m sorry..”  Joe said softly, raising his eyes to John.

John nodded.  “Thank you.  It was-and it made Freddie’s death so much harder for me.  Another profound loss.  But Fred always lived his life to the fullest-and kept sorrow and worry in their place-even at the end.  I know he wanted me to do the same,”  John smiled.

“I’m working on that.” Joe said, wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve.  John reached over and hugged Joe, and Joe welcomed the older man’s embrace. Then Joe pulled away, a smile spreading over his face.

“I guess life hasn’t always been ‘a bed of roses,’ Joe smirked, adding, “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

John giggled.  “True, hasn’t, can’t always be, can it?  But yet-here we are,” he said, motioning to the tangle of beautiful, vibrant rose bushes surrounding them.

“One thing I’ve learned,” John said, “Millions of pounds in therapy later, is that sorrow can coexist with happiness.  And it doesn’t have to be the melody of the song.  It can have its day-yes, and sometimes it pulls you in.  But then, you get on with it.  You let in the good things-and the pleasant surprises along the way, yeah? The big success of BoRhap-and now this new movie for you.  New hobbies for me.  And a deep love of family – for both of us.”

Joe nodded and smiled. “It’s good to see you’re well. And happy.  It’s a relief actually.”

John smiled cheekily. “Yes, the mind fills in what isn’t provided, and the narrative is often a negative one, isn’t it?  Roger and Brian fuel it by pretending that we aren’t in touch.  They’ve certainly had some dramatic words to describe my detachment,” he said, more bitterly than he intended.   “But,” he countered softly,” I know they do it to protect me.  They are well-practiced in protecting friends they love.”   Both John and Joe looked down.

“We missed you during BoRhap,” Joe ventured cautiously, making eye contact with John to detect his reaction.   John nodded slightly.  

Joe continued, “I would have loved to have had you on set.  And at the Oscars,” Joe’s face lit up, thinking of that special night.  Then he focused on John again.   “But, I respected your choice not to be involved.”

John looked over at Joe. “Sometimes, there’s no in-between. You’re either all-in or all-out and that’s what happened. I enjoyed it – well, most of it. But it ran its course, and after Freddie died, I didn’t...it was too painful without him.”  Joe nodded.  

John looked around at the roses and said, “’to everything there is a season and a time to every purpose.’ (2)  That season had passed for me.  Had to move on, protect myself-and focus on my family.   I’m happy for Brian and Roger, that they’ve continued and their shows with Adam are successful.  We all got what we wanted.”

Then John smiled and touched Joe’s arm lightly, “It’s great the movie was made, and you showed our music to so many new fans--and increased our royalties.” He laughed.  “I really am appreciative.” John leaned in and hugged Joe.

Joe broke apart. “I have something for you.  When we wrapped BoRhap, we were able to take some props.  I took a few picks-and always hoped I’d be able to give you one. Not that you need it, of course.” Joe dug into his front pocket and retrieved the silk pouch and handed it to John.  “And, Happy Birthday!”

John smiled at him and carefully removed the pick and held it up.  “How thoughtful of you.  Well, we must give it a workout, mustn’t we?”  

“Oh, no,” Joe said, “I’m way out of practice.”  

“Well, good,” John laughed, “You won’t upstage me, then.  Come.”

John led the way back to the house and they entered a door at the basement level.  He pressed a few switches on the wall and a studio with track lights came into view.  Basses on a stands, amps, a small drum set, microphones and speakers were positioned around the ample area.  “Luke uses this space mostly now.   Here, let me set you up.”  John gave Joe a bass and took one himself. After some tuning, John strummed and said, “So, how about ‘Under Pressure?’” They jammed for awhile, and then Joe looked at this watch.  “I should head back. Due on set early tomorrow.  He took out his phone and called for an Uber. 

They stood at the entry foyer as the car pulled into the driveway.

“It was so great spending time with you.” Joe said.  “Thanks for inviting me.”

“You’re welcome.  And, Likewise,” John said. “I’d like to stay in touch. if you….”

“I’d really like that.” Joe said.  

As they hugged good-bye, Veronica looked on holding a parcel of bread for Joe to take with him. 

John released Joe, “I think we can count each other as dear friends.”

Thanks @warriorteam1924 for the bass guidance :)  Tagging some Joe & John fans: @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @deakysgurl @johndeaconshands @mazzell-ro @orionis8689 @hellysthings @cardboardbenmazzello @johndeaconstoothgap

 Notes

1.       Here’s info on this spectacular bloom:  https://www.styleroses.co.uk/buy-plants/freddie-mercury-hybrid-tea-bush-rose

2.       Ecclesiastes 3:1-8. This verse is beautifully captured in the song Turn, Turn Turn recorded by The Byrds, written by Pete Seeger

[irwintry]

11 Reasons Not to Fall in Love

Warnings: swearing, mention of alcohol

Summary: Ashton is in love, and Y/N might be, too. There are a million reasons not to fall in love–– here are eleven.

Word Count: 6.7k

ONE: YOU MIGHT NOT EVEN KNOW IT

Ashton sprinted down the terminal.

His suitcase rattled behind him, the wheels sputtering as they hit the cracks in dirty tiles. And his shoulders ached from the weight of his bag carving into already-sore muscles. A pair of headphones had fallen from his pocket down near gate A3, but he hadn’t bothered to retrieve them. Not when his connecting flight had less than ten minutes until departure. Ashton couldn’t waste another minute apologizing to strangers for slamming into them during a moment of distraction.

Sweat accumulated under his arms and along his hairline. Long corridors awaited him, meanwhile, his lungs strained within his ribcage as he rounded corner after corner. He hadn’t remembered the airport being this large. Perhaps he had slipped into a Twilight Zone nightmare where every doorway led him to where he had once been. Time ticked away, and Ashton was too frantic to check the clock on his phone.

“Final boarding call for American Eagle flight 1683 for Los Angeles. Please make your way to gate D26. That is D for Delta. Again, this is a final boarding call for American Eagle flight 1683 for Los Angeles, located at gate D26. Thank you.”

“Shit,” Ashton spat, his knuckles curling in a firm grip around his duffle. The same duffle his mum gifted him nearly six years ago, yet it still worked like a charm. The duct tape held up well.

His feet skidded against the rug leading into gate D26. He opted out of the dramatics, slowing down his pace and walking calmly around the rows of seating before addressing the gate agents with a smile. They saw plenty of passengers like him–– late, damp, and a bit smelly as well. But that didn’t erase the scowls from their features. He sped down the jet bridge, dropped off his carry-on at the end, and boarded the plane with two minutes to spare.

“Hey, hi, sorry,” he mumbled to the flight attendants, but his breathy words hardly translated through his large gasps for air. It didn’t take him long to find his seat in first class. The large cushions enveloped him like an old friend. He sat back after placing his bag underneath the seat before him, and his eyes fell shut as a sigh left his lips.

Ashton’s phone vibrated in his pocket.

snail butt:

text me when u land!!!!!!

His cheeks burned. A smile stretched slowly on his cheeks, the kind of smile that wrote novels and lit up silver screens. It was a smile that could not be hidden no matter how hard he tried. Ashton’s stomach had been stuck with thousands of pins. And all it had taken was a single text from you.

“Only a fool who’s in love smiles like that.”

Ashton turned to face the person behind the voice, his eyes wide and watery as he shut off his phone. “Excuse me?”

The older man beside him chuckled. “I know a smile like that anywhere.”

“In love?” Ashton repeated, soon falling into laughter himself. “No, no, I’m not––”

The man winked and glanced away, but Ashton chose not to harp on a nonsensical conversation. Instead, he stared at the seat before him, mouth slightly ajar as he registered the older man’s words. Ashton had never been in love, at least he believed it to be so. He had no knowledge of the feeling. So, he rejected what he heard.

He spent the next few hours with his gaze locked on the clouds, wondering if what he felt for you was, perhaps, something a little like love.

TWO: IT’S ONE-SIDE

The lights had flushed out his skin. Every inch of it was warm and wet to the touch, a sensation he knew well but hadn’t quite gotten used to. Even after thousands of shows–– thousands of performances that kicked his adrenaline to new heights only to have it plummet by the time he made it to the showers. Ashton stood against the tiled walls and let the water pelt against his skin. The pressure was never how he liked it. And the water was never hot enough.

He liked to call you after shows. He liked to hear about your day. You told him about the customers that pissed you off and the ones that sweetly tipped you a little too much. You told him that Oatmeal had taken a poo in your bathtub again, and he’d laugh at the thought. He’d think about the faces you’d make, because while you’d be upset one moment, your anger never lasted long. You could never stay mad at your cat.

Ashton had yet to call you tonight. He sat on the bathroom floor instead, fingernails picking at scabs on his palms while the sounds of J. Tillman’s Cancer and Delirium echoed around the room. He didn’t have the option to sit much longer; they had to pack up and drive off to a new town overnight. He always thought about the what-ifs. What if he walked out right then and there? What if he left without saying goodbye? What if he hopped aboard a plane and moved to the other side of the world? What if he cut off all contact with everyone he knew? And, what if that included you?

The thing that scared him the most was the possibility of it all. He could do whatever he wanted. It was his life, his body, his mind–– he had the ability to walk away whenever he so pleased.

He had the ability to forget about you.

Ashton stared at your contact on his phone. A picture from your New Year’s Eve party faced him, your goofy, smiling face staring up at him, happiness permanently immortalized within a small circle. And he wasn’t sure what your contact name meant anymore–– it had been an inside joke from years before, but time stole the memory.

He could delete your number if he wanted. He could rid himself of the pain of loving you by losing you. He could end everything now.

Ashton called you instead.

“You’re eating away at my cellular data,” you said right away, and somehow, the sound of your voice always made him feel better. All of his previous thoughts melted away. “How was the show? How are your bloody hands?”

“Beaten t’hell,” he spoke, but his words felt lifeless. Ashton could no longer identify his exhaustion. He felt like a stale being, like the grimy tiles beneath his bum as he counted scratches on the bathroom mirror. “Tell me about your day.”

“Didn’t do much,” you replied. “Oh, but––“

You talked for a half-hour. About the dentist, about your cat, about the food you ate... and he listened with pleasure. He listened because it was the only thing keeping him from walking away. It kept him from wiping the slate clean.

And he wanted to. He didn’t want to love like this. It was one-sided, trivial in every aspect, and you had no idea how much it pained him to even think about you. His urge to leave it all behind grew larger every day.

You didn’t love him. You didn’t see him the way he saw you.

“Hey, bug,” he mumbled. You had been talking about a Tinder date, one that went oh so right, and Ashton gripped his thigh until he drew blood. His eyes screwed shut at the idea of you piled under bedsheets, arms tied around the neck of someone else. “’m gonna have t’let you go.”

“Aw,” you said.

He pictured your pout.

“Well, okay,” you continued. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

Ashton forced a smile. He wished you could see the ache behind it. “Of course, doll. Love you.”

“Love you, too!”

J. Tillman’s voice filled the tile room once again. And Ashton sat wishing your words held meaning. He wished he could erase the casual and fill in sentimentality. Because he now knew what love was, and he knew you would never feel the same.

THREE: THEY LOVE SOMEONE ELSE

His kitchen faucet had been dripping for eleven days. The noise faded into the background, its constant drip, drip, drip like an unspoken rhythm to Ashton’s ears. He found himself tapping along and making up songs to the beat of these drips. They weren’t irksome–– not for the first eleven days.

He was lonely on the twelfth day. Beaten hands pushed back dirty and newly dyed dark strands of hair. Ashton hated looking at his appearance in his bathroom mirror. The dark circles were unfriendly, and he hadn’t seen his skin that sickly color before. He was malnourished at his own expense. And he was exhausted.

Tired of spending all of his nights staying up until four because being home felt like a prison. Tired of looking at pictures of you and your boyfriend while Ashton was stuck wallowing with a sore heart. A sore heart that failed to tell you how he felt sooner. Because now he saw your face when you were with him–– with your boyfriend, and you looked so happy. Ashton couldn’t help but feel sorry for himself.

It seemed as though everything was falling apart at once. The faucet, his relationship with you––or lack thereof, and suddenly his dishwasher was overflowing, and every meal he made he was burnt to a crisp. The twelfth day of his faucet leaking was the last straw.

But Ashton didn’t want to call a plumber. He took the matter into his own hands.

An hour later, he had flooded part of the kitchen and dented a pip with his wrench. The activity hadn’t gotten rid of stress or anger, and it certainly hadn’t distracted him from thoughts about you.

He sat back against his fridge, a few stray tears spilling down his cheeks while he avoided the ache in his spine. The leaking had only gotten worse, but Ashton decided he would worry about it on the fourteenth day. He wanted to curl up on his couch and stay there forever. He wanted to rot in his home (was it even his home?) and have everyone forget about him. To have you forget about him. He wanted to forget about you.

snail butt:

hey.

pls answer me

are u ok

Ashton kept the messages open on his phone, but he didn’t respond to them. He wasn’t touched by your concern right now. He felt numb, and he wanted to sink into the tiles and melt in with the puddled water. It wasn’t normal anymore–– to feel this way. He lost himself in the shape of his hands; they no longer looked like his hands. Did he even exist?

snail butt:

ash

can i call

His eyes narrowed. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to talk to you. You were the last person on the earth he wanted to talk to. All because he did want to tell you everything, but he knew he couldn’t. You had always been a constant in his life, and the reason you no longer were had fallen upon his shoulders. Because he had fallen in love when he never meant to in the first place.

Suddenly, you were calling him, and his fingers stayed still. His thumb didn’t move to answer the call.

This wasn’t who Ashton was. He always answered your call no matter where he was, no matter what time of day. His eyes brimmed with tears, yet they refused to spill. No one said love could be this painful. No one said it would be like this.

You called again, a contact picture of you in minion goggles popping up only to disappear a half minute later. Ashton knew he was worrying you. He felt the fear creeping up into your chest while you tapped “voice call” over and over, meanwhile mumbling a few frustrated words involving insults you never meant. You had sensed his change in behavior long ago. He didn’t blame you for forcing communication like this.

That was why he wanted to pack his things and leave sometimes. It was easier than convincing everyone that he was okay.

Ashton:

Hey sorry I missed your call

Can’t talk right now

Love you

FOUR: EVERYONE KNOWS BUT THEM

A familiar feeling filled Ashton’s stomach. It knotted and twisted, but it never loosened. His grip on his phone tightened with every word he read. Knuckles ached while his fingers dug into the metal siding, and tension soon collected in the hinge of his jaw.

This had been his night so far. Stuck in between tables and chairs in the middle of a bar while you texted him about your boyfriend. But Ashton wasn’t mad because of that. His anger boiled because your boyfriend had mistreated you, and Ashton was hearing every little bit about the story.

He believed that he was seconds away from breaking his phone altogether.

“Ashton.”

His head shot up, small curls falling over his eyes as his jaw clenched. A bunch of worried eyes faced him.

“You okay, mate?” asked Michael. His voice was hushed and full of a certain comfort that his friend needed to hear.

Ashton swallowed, and he could feel all of the individual muscles in his cheeks strain. The gray dots on his phone appeared again–– you had more to say. “’m fine,” he spoke. His eyes said otherwise. They were watery and wide, filled with an easily read emotion, yet he hoped his friends would avoid the conversation.

Luke hummed. “Sure.”

“Is she okay?” Michael set his drink down on the table before them.

The words sunk in Ashton’s chest. He appreciated their concern. He appreciated that they cared about you. But he didn’t want to talk about it–– he never did.

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Convincing.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” asked Ashton, voice raising in frustration while the sea of eyes blinked back in response. A cold silence met him, but the music in the bar carried on. He sighed. “Sorry. Fuck. Sorry.”

He gripped his forehead and wiped the sweat from his drink onto the table. His fingers trembled as he did so.

“Does she know how you feel?” Michael mumbled.

Ashton raised a brow. “Know how I–– what?” He began to laugh. He felt strange–– like anger was fighting with anxiety, and he knew he could no longer repress his feelings by this point.

“Ash.”

He turned to face Luke.

“It’s obvious,” said the blond. “We’re not stupid. We know you love her. We’ve known for the past like, six months.”

The frustration softened, and soon, Ashton deflated. His shoulders slumped as his frown deepened. “It’s obvious?” he whispered.

“Not that obvious,” Calum intervened. “You jus’–– you get really sad when you get feelings for someone.”

“I’m not––” Ashton straightened his spine. “I’m not sad. We’re fine. She’s fine. We’re both really fine.”

“I’ve never seen you guys this distant before,” Michael said.

“Friends grow apart.”

“Not like this.”

Ashton dug his fingernail into the wooden tabletop.

“Dude,” continued Michael. “You gotta tell her soon. It’s just gonna keep hurting if you don’t. And it’ll keep gettin’ worse and worse.”

“Or maybe it’ll hurt worse if I do tell her,” muttered Ashton.

“So, you do love her?” Luke asked.

Ashton waited a moment to answer. “Yeah.”

Silence washed over the group, and a beat later, Michael asked, “does she love you?”

Ashton stared at a neon sign in the distance. He could hear its buzzing from his seat. It gnawed at his eardrums and wedged itself under his skin. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “She doesn’t.”

FIVE: THEY ARE OBLIVIOUS TO YOUR PAIN

Ashton had been late to his own birthday party. He strolled in after forty minutes, heart heavy while he pushed through sweaty bodies that he hardly recognized. The stairs were his destination, and he could only fake so many smiles. He could only force empty hellos for so long before someone was bound to pull him aside. Their skin burned his.

Because it had been you, and every touch was a pain unlike any other.

“Hey, hey, birthday boy,” you said, grinning from ear to ear. “Miss me?”

Ashton stared at you in awe. Not because you looked stunning, which you did. You always did. But because he hadn’t seen you in four months. He had hardly spoken to you— he felt like he hardly knew you.

“Holy shit,” he muttered as he wracked his brain in search of something to say. Or rather, the right thing to say. Heat trickled up his neck and into his cheeks.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” you asked. The drink in your hand had hardly been touched. Meanwhile, your fingers toyed with the small plastic straw.

Ashton felt his smile grow. His stomach was on fire. “Yes— yeah. Give me a fucking hug.”

Your arms wrapped themselves around his torso, your head burying into his shoulder while he tried to memorize the feeling of you against him. He missed being held by you. It came with a sense of belonging–– like he was always meant to be here.

“Did Michael fly you in?” asked Ashton, and meanwhile, he kept his hands on your upper arms. His gaze on you was intense–– that he knew, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Had you always looked that beautiful?

You shook your head. “Wanted to surprise you myself.” A smile grew on your lips.

Ashton smiled as well, but it ached to falter. He just wanted to be happy around you.

The drinks poured on, night crawling with sweat and glitter and everything Ashton had wanted to avoid. As the hours passed, you stuck to him like glue. And the more alcohol in your system, the more you kept your hands on him. Unsteady fingers scraped down his arms whenever a good song came on through the speaker. You were in constant movement, and all Ashton saw was a gaussian blur of colors and smiles.

He locked himself in the upstairs bathroom.

He sat there for at least an hour, knuckles drumming against polished tile while the bass reverberated through the floor. It had been months since his last interaction with you–– he never knew when he would see you next. And then you were dancing with his friends, mind elsewhere while you tried to forget about the dried tears over your ex-boyfriend. You were swaying and laughing, looking like an angel kissed you just that morning, and he hadn’t been ready for any of it.

In all honesty, Ashton would have preferred not seeing you at all. Your presence taunted him. It reminded him of all of the mistakes he made, and it reminded him that you would never love him the way he loved you.

Before leaving the bathroom, he washed his face. He washed away the past couple of hours in order to prepare for the next few. In order to see you again, he had to forget all of his feelings for the night.

But he couldn’t. He barely took a step downstairs before retreating to his bedroom. It was his own birthday–– he could be miserable if he wanted to be. Did he even want to be?

Ashton changed into a pair of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. He could still hear the music through the floorboards, but it no longer bothered him. His phone remained silent with no phone calls or texts asking where he was. And then the door opened, and you walked in.

“Uh oh,” you said. “Birthday boy went missing.”

“You found him.”

You smiled softly. “You okay?”

Ashton shrugged. “Tired, s’all.”

You kept your arms crossed as you looked at him. He felt like you were analyzing everything about him. Perhaps you could read minds. Perhaps you already knew how he felt about you.

“Ya wanna sit?” he asked you, motioning to the empty spot next to him on his bed.

Your smile grew. “Duh.” You rushed over, flopped down against the comforter, and nestled into him. He hadn’t expected that last part. “Missed you,” you mumbled against his shirt, and your arm twisted around his. You were warm–– it was a good warmth.

“Missed you, too, bug,” he whispered. He leaned back against the pillows and took your body with him.

You hummed. A comfortable silence settled in, albeit the soft music from down below, and all Ashton could feel was you. He felt your skin, your heartbeat, your smile... He felt the happiness he had been looking for since the night began. This was why he needed you.

You turned to look at him. “Why haven’t we kissed yet?”

Ashton raised an eyebrow at you.

“We’ve been friends for like ten years,” you said. “I’ve even kissed Luke. Why haven’t I kissed you?”

“You kissed Luke?”

You pressed your palm against Ashton’s chest. “Should we kiss?”

“I don’t think––“

“We haven’t even tried it.”

Ashton shrugged. His heart rate had doubled, and the temperature in the room spiked. “Yeah, well...”

“Do you wanna?” you asked.

His limbs felt numb as he sat up. “Maybe now’s not the best time, bug.”

“Oh.”

Ashton wiped his hands against his thighs, and when he looked over at you, a pout had found its way onto your face. The soft light from his bedside lamp reflected in your watery eyes and in the moisture on your lips. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Shit.

“Why do you wanna kiss me so bad?” he mumbled.

You glanced down. “I’ve always wanted t’kiss you,” you said. You looked back up at him, and he saw something in your eyes that he had never seen before.

It gave him hope.

He nodded, swallowing thickly while he fought back conflicting thoughts. “Okay,” he said.

“Okay?”

Ashton nodded once again. “Yeah. We can–– we can try it.” He squeezed his eyes shut, meanwhile wishing he had let the whole thing slide. He wished he could turn back time and never let himself feel like this.

But then you smiled, and he thought that, maybe, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.

You giggled as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He didn’t get the chance to think about anything else before you pressed your lips to his. It was quick, almost as if it had never happened. You moved away slowly, and he nearly pulled you back.

“Well,” you whispered, chuckling once more. The heat of your breath met his skin. With your arms still around his shoulders, you looked at him like he was the most beautiful thing you had laid eyes upon.

He wanted to believe it.

“Well,” he said in return. A small smile grew on his lips. He hardly remembered the kiss, but he knew he needed more. So, he placed his arms around your waist.

You leaned in again, this time capturing his lips gently between yours, but he held you close.

And then he pulled away. He pulled away because it meant too much to him. He pulled away because it didn’t mean anything to you.

SIX: NO ONE WILL EVER BE THEM

Ashton’s hands were numb.

The sun had only begun to rise. Its golden hue cast long rays through his blinds, the light taking shape and giving the dust a chance to shine. The colors washed against her back, but he wasn’t looking at that. He didn’t want to look at her.

He arose slowly, careful not to wake her before making his way to the bathroom. He kept his shower brief, and soon, the memories of the night prior infiltrated his brain. They had been together for a few weeks now. A few weeks of late-night hook-ups and early morning goodbyes. And last night, he called her by your name. She didn’t even notice.

Ashton wasn’t sure how he felt anymore. It was all numb. He could hardly feel the loofa as it scrubbed against his skin.

The morning was quiet around him. He thought about her while he spread jam on his toast. She was beautiful. She had kind eyes. But Ashton had to quit lying to himself. He never wanted to get used to the scent of her perfume on his sheets. He didn’t want to lose himself in the color of her eyes. He didn’t want to memorize her.

He grabbed his keys and drove off, skimming the coast with his tires as he dreamed of easier days. And then he called you.

“G’mornin’, Mister West Coast,” you said, and the stress of his mind eased with the tone of your voice. “You’re up early.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. The sky was lilac above the ocean. He wished you were here to see it. “Mind’s racin’, and such. Miss you.”

“Aw, miss you, too,” you replied. He could hear your smile. “How’s Sophia?”

Ashton nearly slammed on the brakes. He readjusted his grip on the steering wheel to keep his knuckles from turning white. He wanted to say, “she’s not you”, but instead, he said, “she’s okay. A little sick.”

“Wasn’t she just sick?” you asked.

He bit his lip. “Dunno.” And he truly didn’t. He didn’t know much anymore. He felt like he was a floating entity. He felt like he was living someone else’s life. “I really do miss you, stinky.”

“Stinky?” You scoffed. “I’m not stinky. You’re stinky.”

“You can’t smell me through the phone, idiot,” he said, the corners of his lips quirking upwards.

“Maybe I should just come visit and find out for myself.”

Ashton’s smile grew. “Maybe you should.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” he said.

You huffed. “Fine.”

Ashton was grinning now, cheeks burning while he stared at the road ahead. He still loved you. He didn’t know if he would ever stop.

SEVEN: IT WOULD NEVER WORK

“Don’t fucking skip my favorite song, you asshole!”

Ashton’s stomach burned from laughter. He held his phone high, yet the roof of the car kept it within arm’s reach. Meanwhile, you were fighting for dominance as he kept one hand on the steering wheel. You huffed once you gave up, and you fell back into your seat.

“C’mon,” he said, poking your thigh to earn a response. You didn’t budge. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Look, I’m changing it. Here. You control the music now.”

That pleased you. You grinned, taking the phone from his hands while he let out a laugh. This was how the week had played out. Back and forth playful bickering until you pulled out your infamous pout, and he had to keep himself from falling harder and harder in love with you.

It was a dynamic he had missed over the past year. His friends noticed as well. His feelings hadn’t changed, yet he was happy. He could finally allow himself to be happy.

You set his phone down in a cupholder and took his hand in yours. Ashton couldn’t deny the shift in energy between the two of you, yet he refused to let it overwhelm him. He refused to let his hopes get the best of his behavior. Instead, he just smiled at you and returned his gaze to the road ahead.

“Have your hands always been this big?” you asked him, holding his hand up in front of your face to examine it.

He laughed. “Are you–– are you flirting with me?”

You set your hands back onto your lap. “Maybe,” you mumbled as you traced his knuckles.

Ashton continued to smile, and a fluttering stirred in his stomach.

“Is that okay?”

His laughter quickly faded, and he cleared his throat. “Y-yeah,” he said, gripping your hand a little tighter. He traced his thumb along your thigh. A comfortable silence settled in, one full of smiles and unspoken words that kept his mind racing.

The next morning, he helped you pack your things. The security line at the airport was short, and you were already running slightly behind schedule. Your plane would begin boarding within the next half hour. So, he kept his goodbye brief.

And then you kissed his cheek, and he wanted to pull you back in and hold you forever.

“I love you, Ashton,” you said with a smile. A warm smile that held meaning. You spoke words that he had heard before, but they felt different as they settled in his chest. You turned away before he could say anything else, and he spent the drive home with tears in his eyes.

Because he loved you, and you possibly loved him, too. But he could never have you the way he wanted. There were too many miles in between.

EIGHT: YOU’RE NOT READY FOR COMMITMENT–– RIGHT?

His feet ached. His knees did, too. Sweat coated his forehead, and he carried on up the steep trail.

Ashton had been thinking about you for weeks. He was caught up in your smile and the soft words you spoke. He climbed mountains to get you out of his head. His muscles burned while his brain ached with the idea of you.

You left him with a thousand questions. Did you feel the same way? Did he still feel the same way? Is this what he wants? Does he want commitment?

Ashton was caught up in scenarios left and right. He was stuck on a house in the hills, or maybe a small town on the eastern seaboard with a mile to the ocean. He felt the waves on his shins, and he felt your hand in his with a silver ring imprinting on his skin. He saw children, and he heard their giggles. He saw his life with you.

But, even after all of these thoughts, he wasn’t sure if it was what he wanted. He still didn’t know. The mountain had yet to clear his head.

He set his keys in the bowl beside his front door. The cold shower felt like an old friend, and a familiar song echoed in the tiled room. Your favorite song. Ashton smiled.

He still loved you, even if you didn’t love him. He still wanted you. He wanted you for the rest of his life.

NINE: IT MIGHT WORK

snail butt:

hey what’s the address for mikey’s party

oh also!! surprise!

i'm coming to mikey’s party

Ashton’s leg bounced as he awaited your arrival. He felt trapped in some small room at the back of a club while his friends chatted around him. Michael wore golden party decorations around his neck, and he couldn’t stop smiling. Meanwhile, Ashton couldn’t hold back his fucking nerves. He hadn’t told a soul that you were coming.

When you stepped in, the room was yours. Your name was sung in a booming chorus, bodies making their way toward yours for one big group hug, and you were smiling, too. Ashton stayed behind. He felt like he couldn’t move.

Your eyes met his only seconds later, your smile growing while you shot him a wink. Michael talked about something that reminded him of you, and you laughed along. Ashton’s heart swelled at the sight of you. He wished he could have it every single day.

The night carried on slowly, and the conversations between the two of you were cut short. But the shared glances flooded the atmosphere. There was something heavy behind them, like a beckoning almost, but he couldn’t force himself to move in your direction. He wanted to look at you from afar.

“Stranger danger,” you said after approaching him later on in the night. You folded your arms and smirked, and Ashton was suddenly aware of how tight your dress was on your figure.

“Me?” he asked, mirroring your grin. “What d’ya mean? I’m the least terrifying person you’ll ever meet.”

“Say that to the fifteen-year-old kid who dressed up as Freddie Krueger to scare the shit out of his innocent neighbor,” you replied. You took a few steps toward him.

“To be fair,” he began and placed his hands against the small of your back, “you’re just an easy scary.” His smile grew. “Hi, bug. Missed you.”

You fell into him, arms wrapping around his shoulders while your breaths quickly fell into a rhythm. “I missed you,” you mumbled against his jacket. You pulled away suddenly. “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

You nodded. “Come along,” you said.

The two of you said a quick goodbye to Michael, wished him a happy birthday, and made your way out into the chilly night. You had yet to let go of Ashton’s hand, even as he drove down streets that he hardly recognized. The address you gave him was one he had never seen before.

Ten minutes later, he was pulling up to an apartment complex fifteen or so miles away from his place.

“You gonna murder me?” he asked you.

You shook your head and smiled. “Nope,” you said.

A billion questions ran through his head as you led him up a staircase. But he stayed quiet. Even when you pulled out a set of keys and unlocked a numbered door, he still kept his mouth shut.

A lamp in the corner of the room lit up the small space. Boxes were stacked upon other boxes, and it hardly looked lived in. Yet, that didn’t matter. Ashton had realized what was happening. He felt sick to his stomach.

“I was offered a job,” you said.

He stared at the mess of boxes and mismatched furniture. Even through the clutter, it was thoroughly you through-and-through.

“And I was tired of having to constantly come visit you,” you continued with a laugh. “I didn’t wanna tell you until it was set in stone. But, yeah, welcome to my new home.”

Ashton turned to face you. You appeared nervous as you awaited his response. You were waiting for him to tell you it was a stupid idea, that you should have thought about this before packing up your life and moving to Los Angeles. But he wasn’t going to do that.

Instead, he cupped your cheeks and kissed you.

And you kissed him back.

TEN: THE FEAR OF FALLING OUT OF LOVE

He could hear the screams from backstage. A venue full of thousands of fans, all waiting to hear him and his band. He wished he hadn’t become numb to the feeling. It was his job–– it was normal. And the music he created no longer held the same meaning.

But he heard the songs differently now. He played with more passion, adrenaline rushing through his veins as his drumkit became a solace. Venues were his sanctuaries. Every night was filled with a new sensation he desired–– no, he craved.

His friends took notice. They fed off of his energy, and he wasn’t sure they had ever played this well before. It was something he wished he could share with you.

Ashton didn’t like remembering the thin line the two of you had drawn out. It was unexplainable, something unnamed that he was desperate to make sense of. Conversations were full of old jokes and stupid pictures he always saved into his camera roll. However, he never bothered to ask you how you felt. He never pressed about the one thing that stuck itself to his mind for well over a year.

He wanted to tell someone about how scared he was. Past relationships failed on his part–– he would flee instead of looking for reasons to stay. He chose to leave because he never saw things escalating further. Ashton had gotten used to the escape.

He felt different. He knew what he wanted, and he knew what he needed. Yet, the lack of reluctance created an unwanted fear. Ashton was afraid that, if you ever opened up to loving him back, then maybe he would stop loving you in return.

This fear showed itself in his performance. It fueled an anger that terrified him. But the shows were fucking phenomenal, he told himself. His hands bled after every night. And he still called you every night.

He was afraid of losing feelings. He was afraid of losing you. The idea of loving you was more beautiful than he could imagine–– the idea of you filled his heart with so much joy. That was where Ashton’s love for you differed from past relationships. He was used to falling in love with ideas, but this time, he fell in love with the honest you. He loved every little thing about you.

“Hi, bug.”

“Hey, how was the show?”

Ashton pushed sweaty strands of hair out of his face. His heart was pounding through his skin, fingers sore and shaky from an incredible set. His lips were numb. “Hi, um, it was–– yeah, it was good.”

“You sound out of breath.”

He inhaled as best as he could. “Sorry, yeah. I am.” Anxiety crawled up his forearms and into his chest.

“You okay?” you asked him.

He swallowed. He wasn’t okay, but it didn’t matter. “Yeah. I’m good. How was your day?”

“Oh, it was fine,” you said. “Didn’t do much. Watered your plants, ate your food, had a good nap on your couch, and then I––”

“I’m in love with you.”

You were silent.

Ashton’s throat burned. Everything was numb. His entire body had fallen numb. He wanted to end the call and never come home.

“You are?” you whispered a moment later.

His heart ached. “Yeah,” he said.

“Please come home soon.”

Ashton tried to laugh through the nerves building. “Can’t do that, bug. I got like forty shows left.”

“Poopy.”

This time, he could laugh. Maybe he had been nervous for nothing. Nevertheless, he now believed that he had nothing to fear.

ELEVEN: THEY MIGHT LOVE YOU BACK

The door to his home creaked as he stepped inside. A thick black night greeted him, not a single light to be seen as the white noise settled. He held his breath while he set his belongings beside the couch. It always felt like this when he came home. He was always welcomed by an overwhelming sense of loneliness. He would shower and crawl into bed, and he would spend the entire night in a restless state.

Ashton hadn’t expected to see you curled up in his sheets. That was where the night different from the many others. He hadn’t expected his heart to fill with such warmth at the mere sight of you. Two in the morning had never felt so good.

You held his pillow tight, and he wondered if it smelled like him. He wondered if you had spent the past few months here, and he wondered if it felt like home to you. Because you looked like home to him. It was like you were meant to be there, all curled up in his bedsheets with his shirt on your back.

Ashton knelt beside you, a smile etched on his features as he ran his fingers through your hair. He had never felt this much love before.

“Hey, bug,” he whispered, grazing his thumb against your cheek while your eyes fluttered.

You stirred beneath him and hummed.

“’m gonna shower, then I’m gonna hug you after,” he said. “Okay?”

You nodded, but a moment later, your eyes snapped open. “Ash!” you yelped. You tossed your arms around his shoulders and pressed yourself against him. “You’re fucking home.”

He chuckled, yet he didn’t reply. He held you tighter and took in your warmth. He took in your scent and the weight of your breaths. He wanted to hold you forever.

You were the first to pull away, a smile never fading as you rested your forehead against his. Your legs had wrapped around his waist, and your fingers twisted in his hair; it was a feeling he’d never let himself forget.

“You forgot to text me when you landed, asshole,” you mumbled.

He laughed again, raising his hand to cup your cheek before kissing you softly. And, like always, you kissed him back. Ashton had loved you for over a year, and perhaps, you loved him in return.

[crackedoutgiraffe]

The Stars In Your Eyes

Part 2: Chapter 1 Part 2: Chapter 2 Part 2: Chapter 3 Part 2: Chapter 4 Part 2: Chapter 5 Part 2: Chapter 6

Master-list

A/N: Thank you to everyone who comments, votes, and re-blogs! Ask to be added to the taglist.

3/1/2017

“You think Reid should have taken the plea deal?” Alves asked as you entered the office that morning. The group of them were standing around Reid’s desk. 

“Absolutely not,” JJ shook her head. 

“Now that it’s off the table,” you interrupted, “he’s looking at 25 years to life.”

JJ furrowed her brow, “so you think he should have?”

“Of course not,” it was a little offensive that she thought you wanted your husband incarcerated for 10 years. “I’m just saying that 25 years is a long time.”

“And as we know, juries are fickle,” Tara added.

“I still can’t believe that the judge denied bail,” Walker sighed.

“Did you guys see the look on his face when they dragged him out of that courtroom?” JJ was looking at the ceiling.

You did see his face and trying to remember it made you sick. Well, it was that or the pregnancy. The morning sickness was kicking your ass. “Excuse me,” you said as you covered your mouth and made your way to the bathroom. JJ knew what was happening and followed you out.

You got on your knees and start to throw up in the toilet. JJ busted in and held your hair back.

“Morning sickness?” she asked. You tried your best to nod, but it was difficult. JJ helped you clean up and the two of you made your way back to the bullpen. The rest of the team had moved into the conference room, so you went and joined them. 

The meeting was about people in Philadelphia being sprayed in the face with acid. You gave you two cents and got ready to go to the airfield.

“Y/N,” Emily called from behind you, “can I speak to you for a moment?”

You nodded and made your way into her office, closing the door behind you, “what’s up?” you said while sitting down in the chair across from her.

“I want you to stay in Quantico for the next few cases,” she gave you a look of sympathy. “With everything happening to Reid and your pregnancy, I want to make sure that you are here, for him and for your baby.”

“I understand,” you nod. It wasn’t your first choice to stay behind, but it was for the best. 

“Also, Reid was transferred from the police precinct to the Milburn correctional facility, which means you may not be able to see him for a while,” she sighed.

You quietly stood from your seat and left the room. The rest of the team was getting ready to leave for the airfield, so you made your way to Garcia’s office.

“Garcia,” you said in a sing-songy voice, “we are going to be spending a lot of time together.” You grabbed a chair from her table and brought it next to her at her desk. 

“You weren’t there when I showed the rest of the team, but I made a chart with the visitation schedule for Reid,” she had a giant smile on her face as she pulled out an insanely colorful poster board.

“Why do you get to go first?” you pointed to her name written in orange marker at the top of the board.

She lowered the poster and gave you a frown, “because I made the chart.”

“Ok,” you giggled.

The rest of the case went off without a hitch. The team was home the next day. Penelope had you write a letter to Spencer. She had gone to get Emily’s letter and came back squealing. She told you that you could go see Reid in prison now you just had to make an appointment first. The next available time was in a week.

3/8/2017

You were sitting in the cold, beige room waiting for Spencer. You watched as a tall black man entered the room and was followed by a group of prisoners, one of whom was Reid. You watched as he b-lined for you. You tried to give him a hug but you were yelled at by one of the guards.

“Is everything ok, it’s not my mom is it?” he asked as the two of you sat down.

“No, she’s fine. She asked where you were,” you smiled. “Cassie said she was having a really good day.”

“Where did you say I was?” he had a small grin on his face.

You chuckled at the answer to his question, “the beach, she asked if that’s where you were. It seemed to make her happy.”

“Good,” the smile on his face grew making your smile much wider. “How’s the baby?”

“Good,” it worried you that he was worried about you. “That reminds me,” you pulled a small black and white photo from your pocket and handed it to him, “I got a sonogram.”

He pointed to the picture and smiled, “this is our baby?” you nodded and watched as he tried to choke back tears.

“How are you doing?” you asked when he looked up from the picture.

“I’m ok,” his voice was breaking as he talked to you. “I’m really happy to see you. I kind of wish you hadn’t come, it’s not a good idea.” He was looking around the room as if someone was going to attack you.

“Sorry,” you smirked, “you’re stuck with me. Garcia has us on shifts and she took first dibs, but they needed her in the office for a case. I was the lucky one.”

Spencer’s eyes became wider, “A case? Y/N, you should not be here.”

“The last time I saw you, you were being dragged out in handcuffs,” you sighed, “I have every right to be here.”

“What’s the case?”

Why does he care about what the case is, “what?”

“The case. I’m assuming you stayed behind,” he seemed to be stuttering. “Unless it’s local, is it local?”

“No. New York,” you giggled a little bit. “Do you really want to hear this?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’d love to have something to think about.”

“Ok, last night they found the latest victim, which is the third in the last six weeks,” you started. “He dumps them in alleys. They’re all female, in their 20’s, Equal opportunity, he crosses race lines. Oh, and the media is having a field day. They’re calling him the bone crusher.” The to of you sat and discussed more details about the case for about half an hour. Reid stopped talking when he hears a few of the inmates talking about you. You could see it getting to him.

“It’s ok,” you smiled. “It’s not my first time in a prison. I can handle it.”

“Sorry,” his voice became very quiet. “I don’t want them looking at you.”

“I don’t either,” you smiled, “but if that’s what it costs to come and see you, I’ll be fine.” The smile of his face warmed your heart. You were trying your best to keep him comfortable but you didn’t know what was going through his head.

“Did you guys get my full panel tox screen results yet?” he straightened his back.

“We did,” you looked down at your hands and sighed. “They were negative for scopolamine.”

“How are we going to prove scratch is behind this?” his voice became higher pitched and he was talking a lot faster. You knew he was stressed out and this wasn’t helping.

“We’ll find another way,” if you could keep your voice calm, he might calm down. “It was really late when they took that blood test, you may have metabolized everything.”

“He’s gonna get away with it,” he whispered.

“Spence, please don’t do this,” you leaned closer to him. “If you give up, we have less to work with. We will get you through this.

“Thank you,” his voice cracked when he spoke. You knew he wanted to cry.

“Visiting hours are over,” one of the guards called.

“I’ll be back soon,” you shouted as he walked out of the room. You made your way back to the office and helped the team finish the case.

Taglist:

@la-vie-en-amour1 @vixengustin88

[exo-can]

Growing Pains: Send My Love (To Your New Lover)

A collection inspired by Adele’s album 25

A/N: Sooo, it’s been a while lmao.

Please note that this is part of a series, although this chapter has enough in it that you can infer what is going on so it can be read by itself. 

Previous Chapters:

 When We Were Young (Smut) 

I Miss You (semi-smut) 

 River Lea(Smut)

Warnings: Smut (like a lot yo. Probably the filthiest thing i’ve written ok.) , cursing, choking, hairpulling, Yoongi is not happy about your confession  but has emotional constipation so chooses to take it out in ~other~ ways

Sunlight casts it’s warm glow over you, body growing hot under the mountain of blankets you'd haphazardly thrown over yourself late last night. You don’t move though, letting the rays of light burn against your eyelids as you bask in the afterglow of sleep. That is, until you felt the slickness of sweat in the crevices of your form. Sighing lightly, you shift on the couch and feel the heaviness begin to fade from your limbs as stiffness takes its place. The apartment is quiet, the city too. That magical sunday haze always makes it seem like the world is running at half-pace, if only for a few hours in the morning. Slowly, you crack your eyes open just enough to catch a glimpse of the clock hanging on the wall above your tv. 11:14… you note silently. Woojin must have left for work without waking me.

And just like that, your calm morning is gone, spirited away by a fresh wave of emotions that you can no longer chalk up as only guilt. A second sigh escapes you, though this one was much heavier than the first. Pushing the blankets away from your body, you sit upright on the couch. Rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes, you straighten the crumpled outfit which you’d never bothered to change out of last night. Spotting your phone on the coffee table, you pick it up with a yawn and tap the screen to life. A couple emails, some notifications from various social media platforms and one text that makes a soft smile curl your lips upward without your knowledge.

 Yoongi                          4:38am

Did you get back okay? You could've stayed you know.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 "It's me." the words had sounded timid as they'd left your mouth, even by your own ears.

“I know.” He didn't sound surprised, which irked you. You knew what he said on the roof, but a part of you still worried that this was a game to him. A game in which he knew he was currently holding the winning hand. “Caller I.D."

“Right.” A faint heat bloomed on your cheeks as the elevator doors gave a soft ‘ding’ and opened to the apartment buildings lobby. Plopping yourself down on one of the plush leather chairs, you fiddled anxiously with the sleeve of your oversized jacket. A dim crackle of radio silence echoed across the speaker, not quite sure what to say now that you’d actually dialed his number. You tried though, a feeble “I-” making it’s way up from your vocal cords before the line went quiet again.

Thankfully, Yoongi was the first to break the tension. “Do you want to come by? I would’ve offered at Luna’s but…”

“No, I’m glad you didn’t. I’d rather not broadcast what we’re up to to them.” You answered honestly. It wasn’t that you didn’t love and trust your friends. It was just that it was much harder to explain what you were doing when you yourself didn’t even really know. “But yeah, I would… if that’s okay.”

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want you to, Y/N.” Yoongi reassured you, making your insides twirl. “I can come and get you. You still at Luna’s building?”

“I am, but that’s alright. You’re already at home.”

“It’s not far.” He insisted. “I don’t mind. Besides, this way you don’t have to wait for a cab.”

You bit your lip, and responded. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I am.” A rustle could be heard on the other end, which you could safely assume came from his pushing his arms into his jacket. “I’ll be there in ten. Wait for me in the lobby, okay? It’s cold out.”

This made you giggle. Thoughtful and protective as ever. “Yoongi, it’s July.”

“I know but,” he replied with a sigh and you wondered if he was making that cute exasperated face that he used to make whenever you teased him, “just humor me, okay?”

“Okay.” You said, the remnants of laughter still present in your voice. “See you soon?”

He hummed in agreement before adding, “I’ll text you once i’m there.”

“Alright, bye.”

“Bye.”

The line went dead and immediately you began to fidget, nerves beginning to set in. In all honesty, you didn’t know what to expect when you went over there. There wasn’t time on the roof to discuss the details of what this arrangement would entail. Everything with Yoongi was grey, reminding you of how your relationship had started back in college. He never was big on discussing this type of stuff, you remarked silently. Yoongi was and always had been a man of action, not words. Words he saved for music. Once upon a time, you had found this incredibly frustrating. Now however, you were grateful that you could explore your rekindled relationship, whatever it may be, without the pressure of definition. Perhaps it was time that made the craving for clarity you had when you were younger wane. Or perhaps it was the fact that diving deep and defining what this was, meant you’d have to face the demons residing in your head. Whichever, you knew that there was one thing you’d have to lay out on the table for both of your sakes. As much as the thought of doing so made your heart clench and your gut churn with dread.

The screen of your phone lit up suddenly, a new text flashing up on the lock screen which read:

 Here. Black car right in front of the doors.

             Gathering yourself up from the couch, you took a soothing breath before stepping out of the building. Sure enough, a black car sat parked directly in front of the doors which gently clicked shut once you’d let go of the metal. Seeing the car, it was suddenly that much clearer to you that Yoongi really had worked hard in the time you’d been apart. As college kids, neither of you had driven, the cost of having a car in the city being too much for either of you to justify. Now however, it seemed Yoongi didn’t have a need to pinch pennies like he used to. The black car parked in front of you acting only as evidence of this fact. It was nothing obnoxious, but you could tell that the car had cost a fair amount more than your used Honda. Steeling yourself, you grasped the sleek handle on the door and climbed inside.

           Settling as gracefully as possible into the luxurious leather seat, you sneaked a glance at Yoongi. A pang of guilt washed over you, realizing he had already changed into sweats and a simple white t-shirt before you’d called. You let a frown turn the corners of your lips downward. “Thank you for picking me up.”

           A small chuckled emanating from his chest made you look up from his clothes. His face was encased in the blue glow of the lights from the dash of the car. His hair was slightly tousled, blonde tufts just long enough to sweep over his eyebrows. A teasing smirk played at the edges of his mouth while his dark eyes regarded you.

           “What?” You fought the urge to squirm under his gaze.

           “It’s been years and you still haven’t learned to just let people do things for you, huh?”

           Rolling your eyes, you gently pushed at the hand that was draped over the gear shift. “I just don’t like being a bother.”

           “You never are.” His blunt response made you blush, your gaze travelling down to your lap where your fingers toyed with one another.

           There was no need to look up at him, you knew he had a pleased expression on his face. Playing with you had always been one of his favourite things to do, if only because of the color it brought to your cheeks. Shifting the car into drive, he pulled away from the curb.

Both of you fell silent as Yoongi drove, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. Lingering familiarity with one another eased the tension alongside your earlier banter. Turning your eyes toward the streets that passed you by, you wondered what his place was like. Did it measure up to the car? Your mind attempted to conjure up an image of what type of place you pictured Yoongi living in. However, everytime you tried to picture him living somewhere posh and luxurious, like the car, you couldn’t. The Yoongi you’d once known liked urban places. Area’s full of little nooks and crannies hiding the best of what the city could offer by the people who were its life blood. Hell, you couldn’t even count the number of times he’d led you through obscure alleyways and because ‘I swear, it’s the best in town’. And frankly, he’d always been right. Though that never stopped you from teasing him, calling him a hipster and laughing when he rolled his eyes. You didn’t even realize you were sporting a small smile while recalling all old memories until you felt it drop.

           It really hadn’t been far, just as Yoongi had assured you. The car ride only lasted about 15 minutes before he was turning a corner to come before tall wrought-iron gates enclosing an area that was towered over by a few highrises. It was then that you realized that the car really did match the house as Yoongi unrolled his window and gave an amical wave to the man sitting in a small booth just on the other side of the iron bars. The man gave him a friendly grin before opening the gate for Yoongi’s car to pass through. Rolling his window back up, you sidled up to the passenger door, gawking at the height of the buildings before you. Yoongi’s fingers drummed against the head of the gear shifter as he pulled into a parking garage. As he drove to his space, you couldn’t help but notice that all the cars you passed were on the same caliber, or higher, as his own. Reaching his own parking spot, the car came to a stop and you unbuckled your seatbelt. Stepping out of the car, Yoongi locked the doors and motioned for you to follow him.

All the way up to the apartment, you had the distinct feeling that he was watching you and the feeling only heightened once you were inside. You did your best to school your features, not wanting to come off as rude, but you couldn’t help your eyes from widening as you took in his place. From the entryway, you could see into his kitchen and lounge. Both were impressive. The kitchen was decked out with white cabinets and marble countertops while the living room was big enough that you were positive it could house the entirety of your small shared apartment. But the real thing that caught your eye was the view.

Floor to ceiling windows made up the wall to the outside world and with the height you were at, you could see nearly the whole city. Lights twinkled in the distance as you let out a breathless,  “Wow.”

“You like it?” Yoongi asked, his eyes still hovering over your frame as you slipped your shoes off to move closer to the windows.

“It’s beautiful.” You replied honestly, your gaze raking over the city. Eyes drifting down, you could barely make out the man sitting in his booth at the gate. Dimly, you noticed no one milled about the street down below, this area’s inhabitants much more used to staying within their pretty walls. You really had been honest; this place was beautiful materialistically, but something about it just seemed a little cold to you. There was no hustle and bustle here. It almost felt detached from the city. It wasn’t that you didn’t understand the appeal of being removed from the loud streets and neon signs, it was just so far from what you had known Yoongi to love when he was younger. These thoughts raced in your mind and before you could think better of it, you slipped, “but-”

           “But?” Yoongi had padded across the hardwood floors to you while you were in thought, handing you a glass of water that you hadn’t even heard him get.

           Quickly, you arranged your features into a warm grin, muttering a ‘thanks’ and taking a sip from the glass before speaking again, “I just always pictured you living somewhere more… lively.”

           Insecurity flashed across his face so briefly, you wondered if it really had been there at all as he rearranged his expression into the indifferent look you were well acquainted with. A hand came up to scratch the back of his head as he replied, “yeah, I guess it is a bit… much, isn’t it?”

           “No, Yoongi.” You rushed to say, worried you’d hurt his feelings. “It’s just a surprise is all. I knew you worked hard since we graduated, I just didn’t realize how hard.”

           This seemed to appease him, but you could tell that he knew you were trying to make him feel better from the slight downturn of his mouth. Nodding, he motioned to the white couch in the living room. Relief flooded your veins at the realization that he was as content to drop the subject as you were when he said, “sit with me?”

           Nodding, you padded your way across the hardwood floors to the couch, settling down in the middle. Yoongi followed, plopping down onto your right, leaving you to immediately question your decision making skills as the scent of his cologne engulfed you in the close proximity. A pale arm came to rest on the back of the couch as he wedged himself into the corner, legs spreading comfortably. A knee knocked yours and you forced yourself not to gasp at the contact. Slim fingers drummed the cushion, close enough to you that you were sure your hair was grazing the tips each time he lifted them. A jolt of desire churned in your stomach, unable to quell the images of where else those fingers had touched not weeks prior.

           “So, what about you?” Yoongi’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

           “What about me?” You replied, trying to hide your blush as you took a sip of water, willing the liquid to kill the flames inside you before placing it on the coffee table in front of you. After all, you had no idea what to expect from tonight. You had no idea what Yoongi, or even you, expected from this causal relationship. Though your body certainly seemed to know what you wanted.

           “What are you doing now?” He said. “I just realized that I never really asked. Did you apply at that newspaper after college?”

           You hid the wince at the mention of that particular venture. “Um, I did, yeah.”

           “And you got it? That’s great, Y/N-”

           “Oh, no, I didn’t get the job.” You responded quickly, suddenly finding the spacious room more than a little stifling.

           “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry.”

           “No, it’s okay!” You plastered a bright practiced grin on your face and looked up at him, the same grin you’d given all of your relatives when they asked the same thing. Not wanting to make it more awkward, you blurted, “I actually got a job at a gardening magazine. It’s proofreading but the hours are great and the pay is pretty decent too.”

           “Well, that’s great— wait,” He paused, a look of confusion passed over his face and your stomach dropped. You should’ve known better than to say anything to him of all people. “Proofreading? I thought you hated doing that.”

           A melancholy chuckle left your lips. “I did, but honestly it’s not so bad. I could do worse.”

           He hummed, not in agreement but acknowledgement and the fact that you could hear the difference irked you. “Are you gonna stay there for a while?”

           It felt as though a crack had split your smile and Yoongi was peering into it. Were you really still so easy for him to read? It wasn’t fair, not when you felt like you were constantly chasing a shadow. The remains of the smile slipped from your lips and you considered his question. You shifted as you contemplated, your knee now leaning against his fully while your body twisted so you could face him more. Fingers brushed against your shoulder as you spoke softly. “Honestly? I don’t know anymore.”

           “Why’s that?”

“I just—” you sighed, your brows furrowing together unable to help the way Yoongi seemed to pull the truth from you in any situation, “when I started there, I told myself it was only temporary. But as time went on, I guess I just started to get comfortable, y’know? And now, I don’t know, it’s hard to just up and leave something without guarantee that it’ll work out. So I stayed.”

He leaned forward slightly, almost making you jump when the pads of his fingers found the nape of your neck and kneaded the skin softly. It was casual; he only needed to move a few inches to reach your skin, his arm still resting nonchalantly over the back of the couch. If you were anyone else, you wouldn’t have really thought it was anything besides a comforting gesture. But you weren’t just anybody. The action made your mind sift through countless memories in which he’d done the same. Once he’d found out the action was something you found comforting years ago, it had become a sort of habit for him. You didn’t know if he had meant to do it or if it was only natural after having dated all through college, but the gesture instantly had you feeling more at ease. However, the touch still made your breath catch.

Hearing the stutter in your breathing, Yoongi hesitated. His fingers came to a stop and made to pull away as he muttered, “Sorry, I should’ve asked if it was okay before I—”

“Wait,” before you could think anything of it, your fingers curled around his forearm to halt him in his retreat, “it’s okay.”

It wasn’t actually, but with the way tension you hadn’t even known you’d been clutching on to had begun to seep from your limbs at his ministrations, you couldn’t muster the energy to deny yourself a reprieve.

A faint smile wormed its way onto his lips as your head tilted so that the skin of your cheek rested on his arm. In a voice so small you were sure he hadn’t meant for you to hear, you heard a barely there ‘cute’ just as his fingers resumed drawing shapes into your skin. Not wanting him to catch on that you’d heard, you drew your thanks into the skin of his arm, your own fingers mirroring the movements of his on your neck. With each shape drawn, Woojin grew more and more distant in your mind. Your resolve to confess grew weaker with every stroke while the butterflies in your stomach roared, finding the will to ruin this moment dismal.

“So,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen over you two, “is this your move now?”

His head quirked and an eyebrow raised. “My move?”

“Yeah,” there was a teasing tone in your voice. “Instead of food stalls and diners you bring the girls up here to woo em’?”

A raspy chuckle shook his shoulders, a sly smirk stretching his lips. “Honestly, I haven’t had any of this long enough to try it. Why, is it working?”

“Meh,” you acted indifferent, shrugging your shoulders playfully and jiggling the arm that was half slung around you. “I prefer to be wined and dined.”

“I’d hardly call plastic stools, soju, and chicken ‘wined and dined.’”

“Hey,” you pouted, raising your head from his arm. “I’ll have you know I loved those stupid plastic chairs.”

“Don’t I know it.” He snorted. “You almost ripped my head off when you found out I went with Jin without you that one time.”

He wasn’t lying. You really almost did. “Well, yeah, but that’s because I always thought of it as our ‘place.’”

An amused look crossed his features. “Our ‘place?’”

“Yeah, y’know,” heat flared in your cheeks, absentmindedly squeezing his forearm out of embarrassment and mumbling, “like couples those in movies and shit have a ‘place.’ I thought of that as ours.”

“You thought of a street food stall as our ‘place’?” The mirth in his voice did not escape your ears.

“I mean, not just one. More like the street.” You replied sheepishly, earning you a genuine gummy laugh. The grips you had on each other loosened as his body rocked forward, his free hand landing on your thigh as his frame shook. Your heart did a somersault in your chest as the distance between you diminished. His laughter earned him a slap on the chest as your bottom lip jutted out. “Don’t laugh.”

“Sorry, it’s just, there?” His laughter died out, his hand on the back of the chair coming up to carry the weight of his head as he rested on it, your hair fluttering against his bicep. “Of all places?”

“Well, excuse me Mr. High-and-mighty. You have somewhere better you’re thinking of?”

“Your old apartment.” His answer was immediate.

“My apartment?” You questioned.

“Yeah,” he replied, a fondness glazing over his eyes as he looked down at you. “We had a lot of important moments in that place.”

Like watching a movie, memories flashed in your mind. Good, bad, and somewhere in between; all sorts of things happened in the confines of those walls. Some you wished you could forget. Some that you wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. It was only now that you realized just how close the two of you had gotten while you talked. His thumb rubbed at the skin just above your knee and he had drawn one leg of his own up onto the couch, folding it under himself so his shin pressed against the length of your thigh. The white shirt he wore billowed against your arm and upon looking at his face, you realized that if you leaned in just the littlest bit more, you would be able to stretch your neck up so your lips would meet. Looking at him, you finally saw behind his carefully constructed walls. The tender look on his face as his ink coloured irises gazed down at you told you that it wasn’t just you who treasured those memories. Eyes flicked from yours down to your mouth and you could feel his body coaxing you to just bridge the gap. Squirming under his gaze, your eyes dropped to your lap.

“I lived there,” you said with a shaky voice. “Doesn’t count as a place.”

An amused puff of air escaped him, fanning across your cheek down to your collarbone. Minty.

“So, is this how you get the guys now?” You couldn’t help but peer back up at him at the question. The hand that was on your leg rose to grip your chin, his thumb giving your bottom lip a featherlight stroke. A surge of heat rocketed through you at the contact. “By being a sore loser and pouting when they prove you wrong?”

This time, you chuckled, repeating his earlier words, “why, is it working?”

“Yes.” He admitted instantly, your legs pressing together in response. His hand holding you in his grip, dark eyes drifted down to where his thumb sat just below the ridge of your bottom lip. Your own eyes dropped too, watching raptly as his mouth came closer and closer to your own. The air felt heavy, your hands coming up to fist his shirt as your tongue snaked out to wet your lips, catching the salty tip of his thumb. Letting your eyes drift back up, you saw that his irises had become darker, his lids drooping slightly and exuding lust. He was going to kiss you and god, did you want him to. But as soon as you felt the slightest brush of his lips against yours, the face of your boyfriend popped into your mind. Jerking, you pushed him just far enough away that you could drop your head in shame.

“Yoongi, wait.” You fought the trembling in your voice. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

Ever-respectful, Yoongi immediately released you. His hand fell into his lap, your skin instantly mourning the loss as he leaned back away from you. Studying his face, you could feel your heartbeat quicken and your palms growing clammy. He watched as you tried to summon your courage, the only sign that he was worried being the way his brows scrunched to make the faintest ripple in the skin of his forehead. Taking a slow breath and trying not to pay attention to the way your face suddenly felt so much warmer, you spoke, “I should’ve told you this on the rooftop, but I-”

Your throat clenched around the syllables and your hands curled into fists where they had fallen on your lap when he had backed away from you.

“Hey,” Yoongi replied, reaching out to the hand on your lap before hesitating. Deciding you needed the comfort, he let his hand lower to stroke the skin. “It’s all right. You can tell me now. Or not. I never meant to push you into anything and if I have-”

“No! It’s not that. It’s nothing you did.” You immediately responded, your hand flipping to hold his tightly in reassurance. “I- um, I’m actually seeing someone.”

“Oh.” His hand was still in yours but you felt it go limp in your grasp. It was almost comical the way his eyes widened before his carefully constructed mask slipped into place. The silence was suffocating. If you tried, you could probably hear every car within a block of his place right now. Ink irises swept over your face and lowered your head, guilt surging through you. Sensing that you’d outstayed your welcome, you began to rise from the couch only for his fingers to contract and pull you down to the couch again. Landing rather ungracefully, you met his eyes once more. “Is that why you freaked out the next morning?”

You didn’t have to ask for context. “Yeah, it was him on the phone.”

“Hm…” He hummed, more to let you know that he’d heard you than anything. His eyes studied your face, as though searching for something. But what, you didn’t know. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Um,” you replied, “I don’t know if you noticed, but I was a little bit busy freaking the fuck out.”

He gave you an exasperated look, his grip still tight on your hand. “I mean that night.”

You opened your mouth to answer, only to shut it again. Why hadn’t you? You’d been drinking, but not nearly enough to make you forget something so vital. Even when you were having sex, you knew it was wrong in the back of your mind, and yet you hadn’t let out a peep. Sifting through your memories, you couldn’t really find a definite answer. At least you had the decency to shoot him an apologetic glance.  “I should’ve, I know.”

“And after?”

“I didn’t think your number was the same?” It was a sorry excuse and you both knew it.

“You didn’t think to ask the six friends we share?”

“I-”

“He doesn’t know does he?” The question he cut you off with was more a statement than anything.

“No.” Something in Yoongi’s eyes seemed to click, causing shame to make your ears burn as you spoke.

“The way I see it,” Yoongi let out a small, humourless chuckle before a smirk settled onto his mouth and his thumb started to rub slow circles into the skin of your hand. “Most people who want something like this to go away,” He shifted closer on the couch and his palm began to glide up your arm. Your eyes shifted to your lap, knowing exactly where he was going with this. “Probably would’ve either stayed away or told me to shove off.”

The fingers of his right hand fluttered past your left shoulder as his shirt brushed the skin of your arm from his leaning closer. Everywhere he touched felt on fire, the soft pads of his fingertips pushing your hair behind your ear and exposing your neck did nothing to help. And then you felt his breath. Warm and flooding your senses enough that you couldn’t hold back a shudder. He chuckled darkly, letting his mouth come so close to your ear that you could feel the ghost of it along the shell. His voice was thick when he spoke, “you didn’t do either, so what exactly do you want?”

Your voice was hardly a whisper, heat beginning to churn inside your belly, “I don’t know.”

“I think you do.” He said with a laugh as his fingers grazed over your neck to cup your jaw. Gently, he turned your head so you looked up at him, his nose nearly grazing yours. He was close, so close, and yet never invading your space. Never taking that last step of intrusion without your permission. The city lit up the edges of his hair as he let your breath merely mingle with his own in the last inch of space between you. His thumb stroked your jaw lightly while his dark, hooded, eyes searched yours. “What do you want, Y/N?”

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, peeking out to wet your lips before swallowing the lump in your throat and saying, “He can’t find out.”

And then his lips were on yours. A mewl catching in your throat as your eyes fluttered closed because finally he was kissing you. Lips pillowed yours while his fingers left your jaw to tangle themselves up in the hair at the nape of your neck. Your hands flew from your lap to curl into the fabric of his shirt once again, pulling him ever closer. You were the one to swipe your tongue across the seam of his lips, practically begging him to grant you access. A month. One whole month since you felt this much heat pooling between your legs and all the man had done was kiss you, for christ sake.

When Yoongi finally let his tongue slide against yours, you really did mewl, making him chuckle into the kiss. He took the opportunity to explore your mouth, mint painting over your taste buds as one of your hands crawled up his chest to grip his shoulder. When your mouths parted, you leant forward, chasing his lips until a sharp yank of your hair moved you back into place. Seemed Yoongi hadn’t forgotten that you liked a little pain with your pleasure. Lips trailed across your cheek to your jaw as Yoongi made a humming noise, his hand fisting your hair to pull your head back far enough so he had full access to your neck.

“You seem a little wound up.” He remarked smugly before placing a wet kiss just under your jaw.

“N-no marks, Yoongi.” You moaned, fingers digging into his shoulder.

“‘Course not.” He chuckled, letting his lips and tongue glide down the column of your neck, leaving a wet trail in their wake. Teeth grazed your neck, but he did as you asked. “Wouldn’t want him knowing someone else is doing his job better, would we?”

You couldn’t reply, as the hand that wasn’t curled up in your hair grazed the skin of your thigh, inching ever higher. Instead, you let out a breathy exhale, the hand on his shoulder gliding to the nape of his neck. Lips travelled back up to yours, kissing you in slow, sensual pecks that wouldn’t be nearly enough to satiate you and he knew it. When it became apparent that he wasn’t going to take the initiative to tangle his tongue with yours, you tried to take control. Leaning as far into him as you could while he still held your hair in a fist, you snaked your tongue out to touch his puffed lips. A chuckle rumbled through his body to yours before he slipped away. His fingers released their hold on you and he shifted to rest his back on the arm of the couch, his left leg tucked to line your thigh while the other dangled off the couch. Heady eyes appraised your tousled appearance, raking over your flushed cheeks to where your fingers were digging into your thighs. With a thoroughly smug smirk, he patted his thigh.

Perhaps the motion should’ve made you annoyed, the implication that you were something akin to a pet more than clear. But instead it merely threw gas on the fire roaring in your belly. Maybe a little too eagerly, you moved so you could straddle him as he stretched his legs out under you. There was no denying the heat that flashed in his eyes as you bunched the fabric of your skirt so you could lower your weight down onto him. The jean material sitting in the crevice where your ass met your leg and just barely covering your core from his eyes. Not that it would be on for much longer if you had it your way. Both hands came to cup his face, tilting it up so you could crush your lips to his. His own digits snuck under your jacket, dragging over the curves of your waist as his tongue slid over yours. One hand slid to the small of your back while the other roughly palmed your breast, making you break the kiss with a hiss. It seemed your breast was only a stop though, his right hand continuing its journey up to push your jacket away from your shoulder. Taking the hint, you leaned back to rid yourself of the coat. Yoongi let his right hand come back to your thigh, skimming his hand back and forth over the length of it, inching higher with each stroke.

Dropping the jacket on the floor unceremoniously, you hastily reattached his lips to yours. As you kissed, your body started to follow the motions, gently rocking on his lap in an effort to encourage his digits to just dip under your skirt already. You huffed in exasperation when the pads of his fingers left your leg completely, feeling him grin impishly into the kiss. His teeth caught your lower lip as his hand began to tug your shirt out from where it was tucked into your skirt. Releasing your lip, he commanded gruffly, “off, Kitten.”

Obeying immediately, you used both hands to peel the loose tee off before depositing it on top of your jacket, your core clenching at the nickname. As soon as you were free of the shirt, Yoongi wrapped his arms around your waist, wrenching you into him. Clutching his shoulders to steady yourself, wet kisses coated your skin from your clavicle to the mounds of your breasts. Cold patches of saliva coating your chest made you shiver when his breath ghosted over them. The digits on your back traced up your spine until they reached their destination, deftly unhooking the clasps of your bra. The straps hung on loosely to your shoulders until Yoongi took it upon himself to slide them down your arms. As soon as they were revealed, Yoongi’s eyes fell heavily onto your breasts. Throwing the bra to the side, his hands clutched your waist as he brought his mouth to a nipple. A tantalized sigh escaped you when his tongue slipped out to flick a pert bud, only to circle it after. Dropping your head back, pleasure bloomed inside you as he teased your nipple until it was hard before moving on to the other. Hands clutched your skirt, forcing it up and over your hips to expose your cloth covered sex. Satisfied with his ministrations, Yoongi pulled back to rest once again against the arm of the couch as his hands slid down to cup your ass. Fingers digging into your cheeks, he guided you into rocking over him, causing you to let out a moan.

“You’re a mess,” he pointed out, arousal heavy in his voice making it rasp in a way that you’d always loved. His words made you clench around nothing, grinding your hips into him for friction that you desperately needed and feeling his bulge through his sweats. “I haven’t even touched you where you really want it and you’re a mess. You’re practically drooling. I bet your panties are soaked.”

It was true, they were. You could feel it every time you rolled your hips, your underwear sliding over your weeping core so it was slick with your juices. His words did nothing to help, each syllable shooting straight to your groin. Pleased with the fucked out nod that you gave him as a reply, one of his hands released your ass, the other coming to your hip to still your movements. Nudging you to support your own weight, you were about to whine in protest when his free hand traced your slit lightly, making the noise die in your throat. With the pace of a snail, Yoongi moved his thumb to press into your clit, slowly circling the sensitive nub. A shuddered breath escaped you as you stuttered, “Y-Yoongi.”

“What is it, Princess? That desperate already?” He teased, speeding up his thumb every few strokes only to slow down once more. You couldn’t bring yourself to care that you were practically putty in his hands already. You blamed the weeks of fantasizing about him for it. When you didn’t respond, Yoongi leaned forward to bite at the skin of your breast with a growled demand. “Answer me.”

You were certain he could have felt the way your sex clenched at his rough treatment. Yoongi had always been dominant in the bed, but never like this. Never this vocal. However, it was a welcome change; a new trait of his you were more than pleased to discover, though a little curious as to what brought it on. Swirling your hips in an effort to get more friction from his touch, you let out a whispered “yes.”

“Good.” He hummed, fingers flicking your underwear to the side so he could finally touch you. His index ran along the length of your slit, to collect your juices. Pulling the finger back to gaze at the slickness that now coated the digit, he questioned, “how long has it been since you were this wet?”

You nearly groaned when he brought the finger to his mouth, sucking the traces of you off his skin. “A month.”

Popping the finger out of his mouth, he gave you a delighted laugh. “That so? Boyfriend can’t seem to get you going?”

“Not like you.” Your answer was immediate, leaning over to peck him softly as your hands strayed to the edge of his shirt that had ridden up from when you’d rocked over him. You moved your mouth to his neck, slipping your hands under his shirt to feel the soft skin of his stomach.

He hummed in approval, letting his head fall to the side to give your wandering lips more room. When he spoke, you could feel the rumble of his voice against your lips, “Good answer.”

Sliding his hand back to your core, he swiped his thumb over you, capturing some of the moisture before returning it to your clit. Much to your relief, he had deigned to reward you with a steady circular rhythm that instantly had you gasping into his neck. When his middle finger delved inside you, you couldn’t keep your nails from digging into his abdomen. Pleasure bloomed inside of you as he dragged the finger across your walls and out before inserting it again. Moans left your lips in encouragement, muffled as you sucked at his neck. Sure, he wasn’t allowed to mark you, but there were no rules against marring his skin. Your hands explored the expanse of his chest, nails digging in every few thrusts and pushing the shirt up higher. When he inserted another finger, you keened and dragged your nails from his sternum to his pelvis hard enough to make him hiss, though he didn’t stop you. Slowly but surely, your hips began to rock in tandem with his hand, the thumb on your clit now only making contact when you rolled down onto his hand. Yoongi curled his fingers inside you and you shook, rolling down harder as your walls spasmed. Unable to focus on anything other than his fingers, your lips ceased their onslaught on his neck to bury your forehead there instead, heat consistently rolling through you. With every push of your hips you could feel yourself edging closer and closer to completion, your movements gradually getting rougher as you desperately chased it.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Yoongi groaned, “look at you go.”

His words spurred you to lift your face from his neck to see what he meant. Uncurling from your tucked position, you felt a spurt of pride when you noticed the way the milky skin of his neck was splattered with red, some spots dark enough that you were sure they’d form a bruise. Eyes crawling down to where his hand was buried inside you, you realized that at some point when you’d begun to lose yourself to the pleasure, Yoongi had stopped stroking your walls. Evidently, your rocking had been hard enough that he’d had to lower you down until his hand was resting against his own pelvis, stagnant. Embarrassment made your hips stutter when it dawned on you that you’d been using his hand like a toy.

“Don’t stop,” he growled, the hand on your hip squeezing almost painfully as it encouraged you to continue rutting against him. The pull and push of his hand, eased you back into motion, his eyes locked on where your center swallowed his hand. When he was sure you’d continue without his help, the hand on your hip trailed up to cup your breast, tweaking the nipple under his thumb. The only movement from the hand inside of you was a gentle curl that accompanied each thrust of your hips and made the tension in your lower abdomen begin to mount. “That’s it. Fuck yourself on my fingers, Princess.”

Below you, you could feel how hard Yoongi was. His thick length brushing against your inner thigh in a way that you knew couldn’t be satisfying for him, though he couldn’t seem to care less. You ached to touch him, make him feel even a modicum of the pleasure he was so effortlessly pulling from you. But with the position you were in, it was impossible. So instead you clutched the hand that was gripping your breast and brought it to your lips, Yoongi’s eyes watching you curiously as you did so. Pushing his index and middle finger together, you wrapped your mouth around them and swirled your tongue around them as though his digits were a much different part of his body. Satisfaction made you suck when you heard the barely there moan that escaped his chest at the motion. Shallowly, Yoongi began to thrust his fingers into your warm mouth.

“Shit, you really are desperate for me aren’t you?” He remarked, an amused mask cast over his features, but you could see the lust underlining his irises. Instead of answering verbally, you merely sucked, coaxing his fingers deeper into your mouth. A chuckle rumbled in his chest as his fingers in your core began to move again as a reward. “He really must not be taking very good care of you. Or at least not like I do.”

There was just enough insecurity in his voice for you to catch it, though Yoongi stamped out any chance for you to soothe it by clamping his fingers in your mouth down to trap your tongue while the ones buried in your heat began a brutal pace.

“Bet I can make you feel better with my fingers than he ever could with his dick.” Yoongi’s mouth tilted into a wicked grin at his own challenge. You already have, you wanted to say, but the fingers holding your tongue down and the spasming in your core morphed it into a strangled moan. The tension in your belly was taut now, threatening to snap with any plunge of his fingers. When he scissored his fingers inside you, you knew you were gone. The deep rasp of his voice in your ears breaking the floodgate when he said, “C’mon, Kitten. Cum for me.”

A tidal wave of pleasure lit up your nerves like a christmas tree. The intensity of it made your body curl in on itself as your hands clamped down on Yoongi to keep yourself steady. Hips stuttering, you rode out the waves as Yoongi’s fingers in your mouth slithered out, a lewd string of saliva strung from his fingertips to your lips. As your movements slowed, so did Yoongi’s, until he gently pulled his hand away from your mound. Blinking away the blurriness in your vision, you watched as Yoongi spread his fingers in the soft light of his apartment. Traces of you coated his digits, shining when they caught they caught the light as he brought them to his mouth. Hooded eyes locked with yours as he cleaned his fingers of your essence and despite the orgasm you’d just had, you felt your sex clench greedily.

Leaning forward, you pulled his fingers from his mouth so you were free to capture his lips with your own. Releasing his wrist, you rested a hand on his shoulder as the other snaked down his body. When you finally reached your desired destinations, you squeezed through the fabric he still wore. Yoongi broke the kiss to let out a breath, warming your lips as you cupped him through his sweats, the length of his dick solid under your touch. Eager to return the favour, your hand slipped under the bands of his clothes, taking him in hand and relishing in the feel of the contact. Trailing your lips to his throat, you pumped him, a soft groan rumbling under your kiss. You didn’t mark him any more, merely brushing across the marks on him before delving further. Truth be told, you were frustrated that he’d opted to keep his shirt on for the time being, aching to see and feel the skin hidden by it under your lips. You didn’t let it distract you though, shimmying down his body and positioning yourself so that you straddled one of his legs while the one that was closest to the edge of the couch moved so his foot was flat on the floor. Once you were settled, you tugged on his bottoms. Lifting his hips, he let you tug them down just enough that his erection could escape.

Keeping your eyes on him, you curled over to place a chaste kiss on the tip, the slow strokes of your hand never ceasing. You saw him try and fail to hide a shudder, evidently hesitant to show that you had just as much of an effect on him as he had on you. Resting your hand on the base, you kissed down his hard length. He cast an annoyed look, which made you smile. You let your tongue loll out of your mouth, dragging it up the underside of his cock before taking the tip on your mouth. Sucking lightly, you tasted the first hint of precum on your tongue and hummed, watching as Yoongi’s eyelids drooped with pleasure. Never did you think you’d miss the taste of someone's cum, and yet here you were. The desire to him surged inside you as you took him into your mouth, your hand sweeping over the inches you couldn’t yet reach. Yoongi gathered your hair in his hand, swirling it so it made a coil that wound around his grip to keep it from impeding your efforts. Resting the hand on the back of your head, he urged you further down his length with every bob of your head. The sound of slurping echoed in the apartment as you did your best to pleasure him in all the ways you remembered him liking. Taking a breath through your nose, you let your hand fall to his balls, cupping and massaging at them. Yoongi’s jaw fell so his mouth hung slightly open when you sucked him down until his tip hit the back of your throat. His grip in your hair tightening as he muttered “shit.”

           The reaction made your stomach clench, rekindling the arousal between your legs. Sliding back up, your saliva coated his dick, the veins bulging just beneath the skin. Diving back down, you took him as far as you could, your free hand gripping his shirt in as you fought the urge to gag. He let out a small groan, his hand holding your head in place. Swallowing around him, he couldn’t keep his hips from jerking upward, tears springing in your eyes but you remained still.

“Fuck, I forgot how good at this you are.” Your lower half grinded over his leg in an effort to ease the tension that had built up in your core again as your heart swelled with pride from his praise. Easing up only a little to take a breath, you lowered even further, only stopping when the tip of your nose touched the skin of his groin. The moan you let out around him made Yoongi tipped his head back, relishing in the constriction of your throat on him and the feel of you rubbing yourself against him. Tears leaked out of your eyes as you struggled to not gag with him so far down your throat, failing once or twice. Though Yoongi didn’t mind, in fact he seemed to get off on it, a murmur of “good girl” falling from his lips each time. When the pressure became too much, you eased up once again, inhaling deeply. As soon as you went to take him in again though, the hand gripping your hair held you back. Brows furrowed in confusion, you fixed him with a questioning look as he sat up, dragging you up into a sitting position in the process. Yanking your head back to kiss a line up to your throat, he mumbled “I’d rather cum doing something else.”

A chill skittered down your spine, letting him push you around like a toy as he maneuvered you how he wanted. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he moved you to straddle him once again, lifting his leg that brushed the floor so it was once again on the couch. Holding you tightly, your chest was crushed to his, each breath making your breasts push against him. Weaseling a hand down in between you, you keened when he grabbed the base of his dick and ran the tip along your folds, quickly moving yourself to pull your panties to the side for better access. You were so wet again that you heard the slippery sounds of his head being coated in your juices. When he rimmed your opening, your head clouded with lust, desperation coursing through your veins and causing words to tumble past your lips without so much as a second thought. “Yoongi, please just fuck me.”

“Hm,” he hummed, holding you up so that you couldn’t sink down on him like you wanted. A smirk toyed at the edges of his mouth again as he admonished, “I think you can beg a little better than that.”

“Please,” Surely, you thought, this counts as some form of torture. A gasp escaped you when he let the tip of his length delve into you and proceeded to hold it there as words started to babble from your mouth. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for a whole month. You make me feel so good, Yoongi. I can’t stop thinking about how you fucked me on that stupid chair and how much I just want you to do it again, how much I just want to feel you inside me again. I want you to stretch me out, fill me up, and make it so you have to carry me home. Please.”

“Much better.” His praise is accentuated by his length finally slipping the rest of the way inside of you, finding little resistance from how wet you were.

A pleased sigh left your mouth as his now free hand swatted yours away from your underwear to hold it to the side himself, thumb hooking into the material and pinning it to where he gripped your thigh. The hand that was slithered around your waist fell to your hip as he leaned back, letting you move to start rocking on him. There was no denying how he made you feel. You hadn’t been lying when you’d begged. The proof being in how perfectly he filled you and how you’d hardly moved at all yet you already felt your walls pulsating around him, begging for the feeling only he seemed to be able to give you. You never felt like this when you had sex with Woojin, or anyone else for that matter, and the admission of that frustrated you. What if staying with Woojin was the mistake and not this?

It’s only sex for right now, you reminded yourself, picking up the pace as though to prove it to yourself. Focusing on how Yoongi’s dick stroked your walls in an effort to will away your thoughts, it was almost as if the man below you knew your thoughts were straying. He bent his legs under you to prop his heels against the seat cushion before drilling upward to match your thrusts, effectively whisking away any thoughts that weren’t about him. Your mouth gaped and you tilted your head back, feeling the coil in your stomach getting ever tighter. Apparently, he felt it too, immediately wrenching you off him when it felt on the verge of snapping.

The groan of frustration you gurgled out was cut short by him muttering gruffly, “Stand up.”

Without protest, you shifted your shaking legs to stand. Yoongi moved to sit before you, his hands groped up the back of your thighs until they met your ass. Kneading your cheeks roughly, he tipped forward. Your hand curled in his hair when his tongue peeked out to glide over the skin of your lower stomach in a wet kiss, punctuated by his teeth nipping at your hip. Unceremoniously, he yanked your panties down before standing. Stepping out of the fabric, you flung them to the side with your toe as Yoongi’s mouth met yours, his hands gripping your hips. Your tongues danced as you felt Yoongi pivot the both of you so you now had your back to the couch. Pulling away from the kiss with a nibble at your lower lip, he turned you abruptly. The silken skin of his cock brushed against your ass, the leftovers of your sticky fluids transferring from him to you. Lips brushed against your ear as a hand traveled up your curves to rest against the top of your spine as he all but growled, “bend over.”

He hardly gave you the chance to obey, his palm pressing into your spine to tilt you forward. Bracing yourself by gripping the top of the couch with your elbows bent so your back was nearly level, the hand on your spine slithered to your head. Fingers gathered your hair in a fist and yanked it toward him like a leash, forcing your head to pull back, your spine to bend, and your ass to push into him with a hiss. At the sound of your pain, the hand loosened to your own dismay.

“Too much?” You immediately shook your head ‘no’. There was no doubting the pleased note in his voice as his grip tightened again to pull on the strands of your hair and he replied, “good girl.”

A foot nudged in between yours, edging your feet outward to spread your legs for him. Guiding himself to your entrance, he thrust himself inside you. His free hand gripped your hip, blunt nails digging into the skin as he pulled back and thrust himself back in with a resounding snap of his hips. The pace he set picked up right from where you’d left off instead of building up. Your shrill cry of pleasure echoed in the apartment, the new angle allowing him to hit deep with each push of his hips. The force of his movements jostled your body, the strength causing your breasts to sway underneath you. The feel of cotton brushed against your spine as Yoongi’s body curled over yours. His dick was filling you in the way you had only felt when you were with him, your brain reduced to mush as he pushed you more toward the couch with every thrust until your arms were bent and the only thing keeping your head from falling into the top of the couch was the grip on your hair. Your jaw hung open, moans and mewls escaping your lungs as you pushed backwards to match his rhythm. You were close, nearly letting out a sob when his pace slowed.

“Tell me,” his breath fanned against your ear, your mind swirling with pleasure. His words were slightly laboured, most of his effort going toward plowing you into the couch. “How many times have you thought of me when you were with him?”

“Before the party?” You replied, breathlessly. “Never.”

“And after?”

You didn’t have the capacity to feel embarrassed at the moment. “Every time.”

At your admission his hips snapped into you with renewed vigor and you couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied at the fact that Min Yoongi was jealous. Pain tingled at your scalp as Yoongi pulled on your hair, forcing you to follow as he tilted up, causing your arms to straighten. Fingers trailed up your stomach, briefly pausing to palm your breast before travelling further upward until they reached your neck. Digits gripped your throat, his forearm finding its home in the valley of your breasts making you feel the way the muscles tensed when he tightened his grip to limit your breathing. A moan was caught by his hand, the sound coming out choked and gurgling. Yoongi pressed his forehead into your shoulder, a grunt pushing past his lips when your walls began to contract tellingly. With a few more thrusts, you came undone.

A moan rumbled against your back, your legs trembling as ecstasy crashed over your body, the pressure at your neck heightening it. Your vision became spotty as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your veins. Velvet walls spasmed around Yoongi, his hips stuttering at the sensation, though continuing to guide you through your orgasm. When a faint feeling began to fog your mind, you reached up to tap Yoongi’s hand. Immediately he released your neck and you gasped in a gulp of air, the sopping sounds of Yoongi pistoning into you rang in your ears as he desperately chased his own end. With a few more snaps of his hips and a harsh grope of your breast, Yoongi finished. A groan of pleasure hung in the air as he hastily pulled out, painting your back with ropes of white. He shifted a hand to stroke himself, riding out his high. A piece of you couldn’t help but feel disappointed that he didn’t want to cum inside of you like last time. In the back of your mind, you had to wonder if this was him drawing a line and if it was for his sake or yours. As the last of his orgasm dribbled out, he released a breath of hot air that you felt faintly caress your shoulder before wrapping his free arm around your stomach. For a moment the both of you were silent, exhaustion making your chests heave while your bodies began to cool, his cum making goosebumps rise on your skin as it began to dry.

“Was that okay?” Yoongi asked suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was soft as he spoke, a stark contrast from earlier. “Not too rough?”

You brought one hand away from the couch to rub at the arm that encased you, “it was more than okay.”

His chest vibrated with a chuckle. “Good, you always were kinky but I thought I’d check.”

Changing your tune, you slapped his arm. “I’m kinky?! What does that make you?”

Yoongi struggled to keep the giggle from his voice when he pinched your side and quipped, “a willing and considerate partner.”

Feeling your legs beginning to shake, Yoongi sighed and pulled away from you, releasing your body from his hold as silence fell over the room once again. You did your best to stay upright, only faltering a little before your legs remembered that they were, in fact, not Jell-o. Your hands ached when you finally released the other from its hold on the back of the couch and stood up straight. You hoped that your vice grip hadn’t done any damage to the material. A shuffling of fabric could be heard behind you and you turned your head to peer at Yoongi as he walked across the living room to the washroom. Collecting your clothes off the floor, a twang of regret pulled at your heart that you hadn’t been able to see his body as you’d fucked. However, it was quickly snuffed out by surprise when you caught yourself thinking, there’s always next time. You mentally began to prepare yourself, remembering how sick you’d felt after you’d last had sex with Yoongi, and even Woojin for that matter. For over a month you’d felt disgusting after having sex and now, when by all means you should feel that way, you didn’t. Even with the thick rivulets of cum from someone who was most definitely not your boyfriend slowly dripping down your spine. But why?

Your contemplation was interrupted as Yoongi gently placed a hand on your shoulder, a slightly worried look on his face as he bit his lip and turned you to wipe his cum off of your back with a rag he had gotten. Scratching the back of his head, he nodded toward the other side of the living room.

“There’s a bathroom there if you want to get cleaned up. I have clothes you can wear…”

You knew what the unspoken question was in that statement and as much as you wanted nothing more than to accept his offer, you couldn’t. “I should probably go back home.”

He nodded, unsurprised by your answer. “Yeah, I guess he’ll be waiting for you, hey?”

           “Yeah.”

           He was silent and you felt a stab of self-consciousness now that the heat had been taken out of the room. Glaringly aware that you were standing naked in his apartment you held your jacket to your chest so it at least partially covered your body. “At least let me make you something to eat before you go. There wasn’t much left at Luna’s after the guys dug in.”

           Lifting your eyes from the pile of clothes you crushed to your chest, you shot him a soft smile. “I’d like that.”

Nodding, he turned and shuffled toward the kitchen as you made your way to his bathroom. Flicking on the light and closing the door, you quickly began to attempt to make yourself presentable. Sliding your skirt and bra on, you decided to forego the panties that you shoved into your jacket pocket. Your hair was the worst of it, thoroughly mussed from Yoongi’s hands. When you did your best to smooth it down, you couldn’t help but notice that the follicles felt sore, though you didn’t actually mind much. The reward of his roughness was most definitely worth the pain you felt between your legs and where his hands had handled you. Once you were satisfied with your appearance you exited the bathroom, a savory aroma wafting to your nose.

“Ramen?” You asked, coming to stand beside him at the stove.

A grin made his lips turn upward as he stirred the noodles in the pot, remarking, “only the best for my hook-ups.”

“Oh.” You deadpanned, a flare of jealousy licking at your insides. “So, I’m not the only one coming around then.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He chuckled. “Not that you really have a right to complain here.”

That made you frown guiltily. “I-I guess you’re right.”

Noticing your sullen expression, he started to backpedal, “Sorry, I shouldn't have said that.”

“No,” you shook your head before tilting it to lean on his shoulder to stop him from thinking he’d upset you. “I mean you really are right. I pretty much told you I’m not going to stop what I’m doing so it’s not fair for me to expect you to.”

He hummed, his features screwed up in thought. “Then, what happens now? I’d rather not wait another month before seeing you again.”

“Me either, honestly. We do whatever we both feel comfortable with, I suppose.”  You could feel the tension melt from Yoongi’s frame, though your own seemed to bask in it. Anxiety chewed at your soul, despite what you said, at the thought of this all blowing up in your face, but you still didn’t want to let this pass by. Deep down you knew that if you did, you would never stand a chance at ever letting Yoongi go with a million ‘what if’s’ taking residence in your head. Sensing your thoughts running rampant, a hand glided to rub at the small of your back as a sweet distraction. A small sigh left you as your head fell to his chest and his arm coaxed you to press your body into his. “Just like you said on the roof, I want to explore this.”

“Okay,” Yoongi agreed, nodding. “So, let’s say I asked if you’d kiss me right now. How comfortable are we feeling with that?”

An amused giggle escaped your lips, craning your neck to look up at him. “So comfortable that I just might say yes.”

Pushing yourself up onto your tippy toes, you slanted your mouth against his. The kiss was soft, lips welcoming one another as old friends and sending a warm feeling through your chest. Your fingers crawled up to rest your palm against his sternum as you pecked him for a second, third, and fourth time. Pressing circles into his chest with your thumb, you broke the kiss to brush your lips against his cheek before falling to the flats of your feet. Turning his attention back to cooking, he waited a few more moments before shutting off the burner.

“Go sit.” He said, jerking his head toward the breakfast bar at the kitchen island.

You nodded obediently, extracting yourself from his warmth to slide onto one of the barstools. Yoongi grabbed two bowls and filled them, rounding the island to place one in front of you before plopping down onto the stool beside you with his own. Motioning for you to dig in he watched as you blew on the scalding meal, biding his time until you’d shoveled in a couple mouthfuls before saying. “You are, by the way. The only one.”

You coughed on the hot soup, his laughter echoing in the room as he pat your back and your cheeks warmed. Swallowing the mouthful, you shot him a glare. “You did that on purpose.”

“Maybe.” He admitted, a playful, content smile on his face which stayed there for the rest of the night.

[astroellipse]

chronicles of me crying over fictional characters for the second time now: part who even knows

:((( I only came to like Papalymo even more playing the second time, especially starting in Gridania. I actually can’t recall if his death got any tears out of me the first time around but this time sure did. I understand better why they got rid of him, too... it would have made Lyse’s development in the coming expansion a lot more awkward, I think. There needed to be a focus on her, not her and Papalymo. They were too dependent on one another and tackling that codependency could have been done and resolved in a natural way, though it would have taken too long I think and wouldn’t have been terribly interesting.

They needed to continue with pruning the main cast, anyhow, I guess. Part of what made ARR so bad is that I didn’t care for any of the Scions, there were just too many to conceivably get enough screen time for them to have an impact... not that the writers tried very hard on that front. And honestly Papalymo didn’t have much going for him. Alisaie is here to be cynical, Y’shtola becomes the snappy black mage, and any wisdom or insight he could provide can be covered by either Y’shtola or Urianger.

Actually, on that note, I’m kind of surprised that Urianger has been kept in the cast for so long? I don’t think he does much in SB, and he could have easily been cut out around now, maybe in some bid to redeem himself or for the greater good or whatever. They gave him a big role in ShB and is now Y’shtola’s dedicated exposition partner, but before that... anything he had to provide could be delivered by either Krile or Y’shtola.

And on THAT note, I’m even MORE surprised that Krile is still here! She has taken a back seat for the longest time, it’s easy to forget about her. Not that I do. I don’t think I’ve said so yet but I LOVE Krile. She’s one of my favorite characters in the game, I like her more than even Y’shtola. She has just gone through so much, all of her friends being slaughtered by Ascians, being subjected to all that comes with the Echo, having her one dearest friend be summoned to the Mother Crystal’s side to serve as Her mouthpiece and subsequently give her life for a parallel world, violent experimentation by Garleans, watching over her dearest friends’ near-lifeless bodies for who knows how long. The story barely acknowledges her suffering, though... she’s been written to sound a lot more tired in the more recent stuff. Or maybe it’s just the voice acting? Her voice sounds incredibly weary to me. She’s usually pretty snappy but amicable herself which I like a lot. She’s pragmatic and smart and helpful, and despite this wears a bright yellow coat with built in cat ears for some reason. It is very silly but I LOVE it. She is such a good character.

Oh man I was on a roll there and then I almost fell asleep in my chair. Pity. Anyways have I talked about Urianger yet? I also love Urianger I think he’s my favorite character in the game. He’s just. Stupidly pretty. Very pretty bookish elf man who wears a stunning dress and jewelry with his silly old-timey speak and incredible amount of exposition and self-hatred and everything... and still manages to be incredibly funny in his own sarcastic way. I do not get fictional crushes often but god. Elma will live in my heart forever but for the moment Urianger has a seat next to her. I Love him. Very good character. I refuse to use Alphinaud in trusts bc it would mean I don’t get to hear “I shall protect thee”, and it would be sad. Secret is 7 inches taller than him. It is so so cute. In the current instance of the Rising Stones all the characters actually look at you whenever you come near and seeing him have to crane his neck is adorable. Just from his character archetype I think he’s supposed to be the tallest in the main cast but to have the WoL beat him in that is hilarious. And Man. Why doesn’t the WoL ever get the chance to truly forgive him for what he did on the First? And he still blames himself for the deception during post-HW. It hurt every time he brought it up :(

Ok. I’m slowly but surely waking up from my impromptu nap. There was actually something I meant to do with this post primarily and it’s taken four overly long paragraphs to get to it. I took very bad screenshots of Doran’s current outfits. Like the pictures are Not Good. But that’s alright bc you can see the outfits in full.

1. Overdesigned nonsense outfit, technically canonical as he’s a Bard first and foremost. Mostly the lvl 60 artifact set, with a bow from a dungeon and mask off the market, which honestly was a god send. The gems on it nearly matches the body piece, and the metal matches both the bow and armor. I think it looks pretty good all in all, at least better than the undyed set all red and with the turban and all.

2. Casual, lazy glam, literally a copy paste + recolor of one of Secret’s outfits. Doing the dragoon idle pose bc it’s funny. Will probably change this later, if anything the lance bc it’s currently not even glamoured. I really like these pants but they morph super weird when actually in action, like the joints become unnaturally pinched when sitting down.

3. When you bring a musket w you to the beach in case a primal decides to emerge from the water’s murky depths. Also cheap and low effort though I don’t plan to take gunbreaker seriously. That queensguard nonsense is silly. which is why he’s standing like that.

4. a better look at his face, taken just now

I still have not decided what I think of how he looks. I don’t immediately hate it like I do most Hyur faces, but there’s still something... off. His eyes are pretty dark blueish green, which isn’t obvious in most lighting. But in some cutscenes they just pop and it looks nice. To me he looks... almost constantly happy. The opposite of resting bitch face. Chosen sort of specifically to contrast Secret, who appears to be always frowning. Anyways. This face looks really weird on lots of lighting, but then again so does Secret’s. The lighting in some of these cells is just atrocious, notably The Solar which unfortunately is also where several cutscenes take place.

But anyhow. It works. His face, I mean. Looks just a bit uncanny, in a different way than I usually find Hyur to be, which is fitting. This particular face comes with a few options for the sharpest cheekbones I’ve ever seen but I could NOT give him any of them. His face is purposefully soft, with those nice freckles and gentle brow. But still the small irises and eyes of a color you actually have to look close to make out, pale skin and thin lips. The scar’s main purpose is to invoke symmetry. Similarly, Secret’s face is built to be round, or I guess as broad as I could get it, with dark gentle eyes and warm skin, but still with down turned lips and pointed eyebrows and the face with eyes scrunched at the corners in what I’ve seen described as “angry eyes”.

Buuuuuuuuuuttttttttt I’m gonna get back to it I’m nearly back into Stormblood!!! :)

one day though. one day i will write more about Secret and now Doran. about their own stories. maybe the other reflections too if I ever get to it. eventually.

[serendipityjxmn]

I Hate You, Park Jimin!

Chapter 16

Words Count: 2.7k

TW: Brief smut moments!

Link to Chapter 15

Link to Chapter 17

The sun had rose so high that Saturday afternoon it’s getting slightly warm although it was Fall. I sank on the floor in the living room, feeling exhausted and slowly wiped the sweat beading on my forehead with the back of my hand. I had been busy doing house chores since early morning and I thought my morning had been pretty productive. I did my laundry, even threw in my bed sheets and stuffs, swept and mopped the floors, dusted the few furnitures I have and even made breakfast for myself this morning.

I frowned when my thoughts suddenly went to Jungkook. I hadn’t seen him at all for the rest of the week except our short encounter at the locker last Tuesday. He told me he’d meet me later at the cafe that day but turned out he didn’t show up at all that day. And the next day. And the next day as well. He didn’t come up for work at all for the rest of the week. I asked Kyung Hee eonnie and she said that he’d been taking leaves due to personal family matters. This worried me a lot and had been a source for Jimin’s grumpiness this week.

I glanced at my phone. Now that he appeared in my mind... I miss.. Jimin. He hadn’t texted me at all yet today. He usually sent me a good morning text though. Perhaps he was busy today. I pouted slightly.

And I had no idea how Yoo Nara’s name suddenly popped in my mind. She had been acting weird lately and I had no idea how to react to that. She had been civilised earlier during our first meets and ever since the incident of her bumping into my shoulder, she had been shooting glares and scowling at me during the few moments where we had unfortunately locked eye with. I suspected it had much to do with my relationship with Jimin.

Yesterday however, I had bumped into her when I was heading for the restroom. She was already inside, washing her hand when I entered. She looked up at me and her expression immediately turned nasty. Almost instantly though, she changed her expression to smirking. She shook her head as she exited the toilet with a sinister smile plastered on her lips.

Honestly, it had me weirded out. I sighed and decided to pull my thoughts away from depressing things or people.

I spent the rest of the day studying some chapters for a few hours before settling myself on the couch and flipping through Netflix channels. The night had just settled in when my phone buzzed. I glanced and felt my heart leapt from excitement when I saw Jimin’s name on the screen. God, the simple thing he does that makes me feel all butterflies.

Jimin: Have you had dinner?

I was already halfway sprinting to my bedroom to change my shirt.. just in case.

Kim Hana: No.

Jimin: Be at your place in half an hour.

I replied almost instantly.

Kim Hana: OK.

I squealed in excitement as I roughly pulled my wardrobe door open. I changed into a simple blue short pants and an oversized white T-shirt. I brushed my hair and even put on some lipstick. Jeez- Hana. Calm down girl.

The door rang half an hour later. I opened the door and immediately my mouth went dry at the sight of Park Jimin. He was wearing black turtleneck with leather jacket on top as well as ripped jeans. He looked... delicious.

“Hey.” He smiled his megawatt smile and I felt the rapid beating of my heart immediately.

“Hey.” I replied and stepped away to let him in when I noticed he bought food for me.

“Thought we could have dinner together?“ he said as he placed the plastic bags on the kitchen table.

“That would be perfect.” I said and he grinned at me. He turned around to shrug his jacket off his shoulder and placed it on the chair before turning around towards the sink to wash his hand. I had no idea what washed o ver me that I took a few steps towards him and hugged him from behind.

He stiffened for a few seconds perhaps due to shock because this was definitely not something I did to him a thousand times but immediately relaxed when I buried my cheeks against his back while my hands lay flat on his chest.

“Miss me that much?”

I only hummed in response and he chuckled. He clasped his hands around mine and gave me a tight squeeze before I realized what I was doing. Oh God- am I Kim Hana? I gasped and immediately dropped my hands. He smiled in amusement when he turned around to see my red face. I looked down.

“You’re so cute when you’re shy.” He said as he stepped towards me and I instinctively took a step backward. “Don’t be shy though, I like you jumping on me.”

I flushed crimson. I was about to head back towards the kitchen table when he blocked my path and stepped even further till I had my back against the countertop, caging me. He had both his hands beside me and I gulped from the close proximity. Sure, we’ve been.. intimate but I was still shy and everything was still new to me. And of course, it does not help that Jimin’s so ridiculously good looking he made me catch my breath all the time.

He didn’t say anything and just leaned forward until I felt his lips against mine. I immediately drowned in his kisses, soft and moist, with only slight urgency. I felt his hands went to my waist and I whimpered at his touch.

He groaned and suddenly the pace of his kiss escalated. He kissed me deeply and my breath grew shorter as I gasped for air in between kisses. His hands moved towards the small of my back as he pressed himself towards me. I moaned when I felt his crotch, hard against mine.

He then moved his lips to my neck and I shivered when he bit it lightly.

“Jimin-“ I was already a hot mess.

“Hmm?” He hummed, his voice low as he continued to place wet kisses on the crook of my neck. I gasped from the sensation. Oh God- are we gonna have sex in my kitchen?

“Jimin-“ I called him again as my hands went to lay flat against his chest. “The food will get cold,” I said as I pushed him slightly.

He lips stopped attacking me and he regarded me for a moment. He smirked when he saw the mess that I was in. “Okay.” He said and pushed himself off me. I let out a huge breath I didn’t know I was holding. I cleared my throat.

Then suddenly, without warning Jimin leaned in to plant a soft kiss on my lips. “I missed you too,” he whispered and I froze. My heart couldn’t possibly beat any faster than it did right now. My legs were slowly turning jelly. Jimin and the power he had on me and he wouldn’t know for the world.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t resist kissing you. It doesn’t help that you have the most adorable reaction either.”

I flushed further. I cleared my throat again and pushed him slightly to head towards the kitchen table while he chuckled behind me.

“So, how’s your day?” He asked me as he gently took the hair that fell down on my face and pulled it all behind. I melted at his thoughtfullness.

“Productive. I did house chores, mostly.” I smiled at him as I unpacked the food.

“But your house is sparkly clean all the time anyway.”

“Because I clean.” I retorted.

“Well then maybe- I should go and lie down on your freshly washed linens.. in the bedroom..” he said, voice low and seductive near my ear. “Care to join?”

I stilled. God- he’s so flirty I sometimes had no idea how to react other than freezing. I smacked his arms. “Pervert.”

He laughed and I swear it’s the most wonderful sound ever.

“What about you? What did you do today?”

He didn’t answer immediately so I looked up and saw him frowning.

“Jimin?”

“Huh?” He looked up as if from a daze, eyes finally meeting mine.

“What did you do today?”

His brows furrowed further. “Um- nothing.” I frowned at him and he knew I was dissatisfied with his answer so he quickly said, “Nothing really. I woke up noon, watch tv, and nap again and here I am.” He said and before I could say anything, he already made his way towards the living room, carrying the food.

I was still frowning as I followed after him and sat on the floor beside him. He was already flicking through the channels of Netflix.

Was he hiding something? I thought. Then I shook my head. Maybe he didn’t want to share or talk about it and I shouldn’t pry about it unless he wants to talk about it. So I didn’t press him further.

“What’s your favourite food?” He suddenly asked. He had finally settled on letting Good Doctor series playing on tv but he toned down the volume a lot the show was almost mere flashes of pictures.

I smiled at him as I took my first sip of the beef braised soup. Ummpph- this is heaven. “What’s so sudden?”

He shrugged. “I just realized I didn’t know your favourite when I wanted to buy food just now.”

“Actually, this.” I jutted my chin low slightly towards my soup of braised beef.

His eyes lit up. “Really? I made a good choice then.”

I nodded. “And this is really good. What about you then?”

He didn’t answer immediately as his brows knitted, thinking. “Hmm.. I don’t think I really have one. I eat everything.”

I just nodded at that. Food are something easy to fix for guys.

“What’s your favourite color?”

Hmm this is easy. “Blue.”

“Me too.”

Oh? That’s cute. I sipped my soup. “So how long have you known your annoyingly handsome group of troublemakers?”

He raised one of his eyebrows, his expression bemused. “Annoyingly handsome group of troublemakers?”

“That’s what Ah Young usually says.”

He smiled fondly before answering. “Ever since I was a kid, I guess. For Taehyung’s case,” he added. “We’re family friends. His father knows my father.. my mother knows his mother.. you know how it is.”

I simply nodded. How the rich world works- it will always be a wonder for me.

“And then Taehyung met Hoseok hyung back during Second Grade.. And he was already close with the rest at the time. And then he introduced me to all of them.”

“Taehyung’s really friendly.”

He shrugged. “I guess so. If it wasn’t for him, I might have no friends at all.”

I raised a brow at him. “Why would you say that? I told you everyone likes you.” Seriously, Jimin and his lack of self confidence. Jeez- who would have thought. The way he sauntered at college.. one would think he’s the cockiest jerk alive.

“It’s just the face.” He scoffed but when I I opened my mouth to rebutt, he suddenly chuckled.

I frowned. What’s he laughing at? “Something funny?”

“Just thinking that.. we’re kinda doing things backward. You know.. sex before getting to know each other’s trivia.” He smirked at me.

I reddened at this. How could he say the word with such ease?

“Do you have any sex kink?” He asked suddenly and I choked on my soup.

He laughed at me while I frantically clutched my chest.

“Can you not say those things so easily?” I glowered at him.

“What? I’m your boyfriend. I need to know what you like or you might think of running away.” He was done eating and now had his hand propped under his chin, his expression amused.

“It’s not like I’m dating you for s-“ My eyes widened, my hands flew to clamp my mouth immediately, realizing the word I was about to say. Jimin’s shoulder vibrated as he tried to contain his laugh. Jeez- he loves teasing me so much! I gulped. “S-something physical.” I managed to finish. ”You could be the worse in bed and I would still like you.”

“Really?” He asked, one of his eyebrows arched at me. “So you don’t like me only for the sex.. or my body?”

I gulped slightly but then shook my head. Does he really need all these assurances?

“At all?”

Jeez. He’s infuriating. “Yeap.”

“Huh,” he huffed. “So you like me huh?”

“Yeap.” I blurted out.

“Since when?”

“Since-“ my eyes widened. “No, no I’m- it’s um- it’s a slip of a tongue I don’t like you,” my eyes blew further, “I mean, I don’t hate you like, maybe I like you a bit-“ I was ranting by now.

And suddenly my words were sealed when Jimin crashed his lips against mine, surpressing all of my words. Damn Jimin and his way of silencing me!

I was lost in his kiss almost immediately.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue hot and hard exploring my mouth and I squirmed when I felt his hands went towards my thigh. He moved forward and leaned closer and my back was pressed against the sofa feet, his hands on either side of me.

I could hear his breathings getting heavier and I was pretty sure mine was too.

“Jimin-“ I moaned when his lips went to suck my neck. Fuck- my head lolled to the back and Jimin seemed appreciative with the access and he wasted no time attacking me with wet kisses and I moaned louder. God- I could already feel the wetness pooling down there. His hands that was once on my thigh already went up higher towards my waist, my stomach and now they were tracing the line of my breasts over my shirt.

“Shit- ah Jimin-“ I whimpered when I felt his crotch dangerously close to mine. I was about to push him aside so I can sit astride him when he suddenly pulled away from me.

I opened my eyes and saw him sitting casually beside me, smiling bemusedly at me.

“So tomorrow- at my place.”

Huh- what? “What?” I asked, almost inaudible as I struggled to catch my breath. Damn it- I was in such a mess, panting heavily, cheeks flushed and fucking hardened nipples but he seemed so at ease as if we didn’t just had a hot make out session. I glanced down at him - nope, he was affected - confirmed as I saw the growing bulge beneath his pants.

He seemed to notice where my gaze landed at and cleared his throat. “Our study session.”

Oh. I flushed even further, biting my cheeks. Maybe I can try to turn it into something else.. or plan a revenge seeing how he made me feel bereft tonight.

“Oh and anyway, you’re going to meet my, as you said annoyingly handsome group of troublemakers tomorrow.”

I- what?! “Me?” I almost yelled at him. “I mean- what- why?”

He chuckled at my reaction. “Because they haven’t stopped pestering me about meeting you, saying things like.. hiding sister in law.” He smirked and playfully grazed my chin.

I went pale. I wasn’t ready. I so wasn’t ready to meet his bunch of annoyingly good looking group.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow okay.” He said and then stood up.

In a daze- still trying to wrap my mind about meeting his friends tomorrow- I staggered as I tried to stand. He caught my waist immediately. A fond smile plastered on his face.

“I wouldn’t sweat about it. They’ll love you.” He placed his fingers on my chin, trying to make me look at him.

“Or more like you’ll break their neck if they don’t.”

He laughed. “That may be right too.”

I smacked his arms then proceeded to wrap my arms around him too as we made our way to the door.

“I’m going now. Good night and dream of me.” He planted a soft kiss on my head and left just like that.

Leaving me horny.

Fuck.

Link to Chapter 17

200830 9:00PM

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Danny had just finished dealing with one problem when a sort of old problem reared it's ugly head and made itself a priority.   For once, he may have to deal with a supernatural entity the same way any Fenton traditionally would.

trigger warning for suicide mention and school shooting mention

“Uh, well, I know a way I can help.”  Danny smiled, rubbing the back of his head.  “Sorry for making that wish without asking your permission but I have a feeling you’ll like this one.”

“I’m certain.”  Desiree sighed and turned to fly away, but Danny couldn’t just let her go like that.  People made wishes haphazardly all the time, and interpretation was a horrible thing to mix magick into.

“I wish that you were free of the curse that was laid on you.”  She froze, turning to stare at him with wide red eyes.  Pink and green light gathered around her fingertips and she raised her hands.

“So you have wished it… so shall it be.”  A cloud of smoke enveloped her like a cocoon, and Danny squinted into it.  A wave of force exploded from the cloud and all the booths shook with the energy released, Danny being knocked to the ground.  When he looked up, Desiree was blue-skinned, her silver armbands violet and her dress a dark green.  Eyes like stars looked down upon her new form, bottom half still a cloud of wispy mist, and she slowly began to smile and laugh.  “I’m… free?  I’m free!  Thank you, Danny, thank you so much!”  She flicked her hand, pink and blue ripples of light fixing up the cotton candy explosion and even setting Danny on his feet properly.  “I had thought I’d never be free of that wretched curse!”

“No problem!  Just, if you can avoid it, please don’t go hurting anyone?”  She arched a brow at him and Danny winced.  “I mean, I’m kind of trying to keep everyone, ghosts and humans alike, safe in my town, you know?”

“I cannot promise not to hurt anyone but I won’t be staying in this Realm for long.”  Desiree smiled, a sharp and dangerous baring of teeth and a gaze fixed on something far beyond them that Danny felt pity for.  “After all, I have to find the fool who did this to me and show him how it feels.  And then, I’ll return to my own realm, and a queendom of my own shall be mine!”  She laughed, lights and swirls of colors that his brain had no way of making sense of dancing around her, and throughout the park.  After a moment, she sighed and patted his head.  “Thank you, Danny.  Stay safe.”  And in a swirl of pink that might not have actually been pink, she was gone.

Danny took a moment to feel all warm and tingly inside about how he helped someone so easily, and then he let everything slide past him and through him, flying into the ground and then back up under the table.  The cold of his ghost curled back up into a ball somewhere within him and his skin regained its color and warmth, the world settling back into a thin extreme indigo lense.  He crawled out from under the table cloth and found Tucker, staring at where he had been, and tackled him.  They tumbled to the ground with a yelp from Tucker and Danny laughed, rolling away from the zap of the belt.  “Dude, Desiree is a Jinni!  I wished for a dick and now I have magickally transitioned.”

“Don’t let my being crushed into the ground by you fool ya, I’m genuinely overjoyed for you about that.”  Tucker lifted his head and laughed, deactivating the Specter Deflector before dragging Danny into a hug in the grass.  The hug lasted longer than he felt this deserved, even if he was over the moon about it.  It was also tighter than it should be, and Tucker’s gold was streaked with all kinds of wild blurples, marshons and even some grick.

“Dude, are you alright?”  Danny patted Tucker’s back when he just squeezed tighter and sighed.  “Ok.  We can do this, but like, we’re gonna get stepped on.”  Tucker relented, finally, and they got up, dusting the dirt and grass from their clothes before Danny was hugged, again.  “Tuck?”

“I… we need to talk, with the others too.”  Well, this promised to be interesting at least.  A good distraction from what happened before, hopefully.

It was not, in fact, a good distraction from the shapeshifter that had essentially murdered him (Sam was not the cause, no matter what she probably thought, and he needed to tell her that at some point, she deserved to hear it).  No, instead Danny, Sydney and through the skype call Sam listened to Tucker tell them about how he’d wished that Danny hadn’t gone into the portal and apparently all hell broke loose from that.  On one hand, it was almost freeing to know that even if Danny hadn’t caved to peer pressure like an idiot, the portal still would’ve been wrong when it turned on.  It ached to know that if he hadn’t died in there, his sister would’ve died out here.

But the burning in Danny’s soul was nothing, apparently, compared to Sydney.  “Wait, Tucker, did you say, Spectra?  As in Penelope Spectra?”  Oh boy, Danny knew that tone and he didn’t like it.

“Yes…” Tucker backed up a bit, while Danny shifted to stand in front of him, hand in his pocket.  “She’s the guidance counselor at Casp-”

Sydney glitched, glitched hard.  His features stretched, twisted, overlapped before settling on the image of a corpse, blood dripping from his mouth and the back of his skull as he hissed fury that made the skype call lag and crackle with static.  “Penelope Spectra should be dead like the rest of us!  I- show me a picture of her.  Now!”

“Ok, ok,” Tucker said, pulling up a picture from the school’s website.  “There’s surely plenty of people with that name, Sydney, no need to freak out.”

Except, he did.  When they pulled up the image of a ginger woman with hair done up in what looked almost like horns and a red business suit, the air around Sydney shone with green and his eyes were pits of red light.  “THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE!  NO ONE CAN SURVIVE A BULLET TO THE HEAD LIKE THAT!  I SURE AS HELL DIDN’T AND NEITHER DID ANY OF THE OTHER BULLIES LIKE HER!”

Tucker, slowly, exited the browser and reactivated his Specter Deflector™ while Danny gently tugged Sydney back from the screen.  It stung, the dark reddish colors radiating off Sydney like heat, anger that wasn’t his own boiling in his chest.  Danny took a slow, deep breath, and when he breathed out he pushed the anger out of him with it.  “Breathe with me, Syd.  Can you do that?”

“I’m dead buster.”

“Yeah, and you don’t need to breathe, but can you?”  The glitching slowed ever so slightly, and Danny brought his energy as close to the surface as he could while still human.   “In and out, c’mon.  In,” the heat receded, concentrated, burned darker for it.  “Out.”  It dissipated in waves, ripples of static on his screens and Tucker grabbed the laptop to keep the current from ruining it.  They did that, breathing, for a while until Sydney looked less like a floating corpse and more like a monochrome translucent image.  He rubbed his arms and looked away while Danny turned to lock eyes with Tucker.  Tucker was busily typing away on the laptop now that nothing was interfering with the wifi signal.  “Tuck?”

“It’s a good thing Sydney stays away from the school,” he muttered, Sam snorting over the line.  “Is it possible for an unagitated ghost to have some color and look like a human being?”

“Uh, not that I know about.”  Danny glanced at Sydney and gave him a pat on the back.  “Syd?”

“I-I don’t know… I’ve been a bit stuck, on the other side you know?”  Sydney was becoming fuzzier at the edges and Danny sighed when he realized the other boy was invisible.  “Maybe someone else would know.”

“Right,” Tucker drawled.  “Syd, do you wanna come with us to go ask Agatha about this?  If we’re dealing with a well-hidden ghost, then I wanna make sure you two are on top of your game.  A hearty meal, or I guess a ghouly meal, is essential for any fight.”

Sydney at least flickered back into something easier on the eyes if not fully there, and he chuckled.  “Uh, maybe?  Who’s Agatha?”

“Agatha Reece,” Sam said over the call, pausing to cough into her arm.  “She’s the ghost of a lunch lady at Casper.”  Sydney’s white eyes went wider than humanly possible, a touch of sepia seeping into his greyscale.

“Ah, you know what, I think I’ll just head out and go see some sights.  I’m sure you two don’t need me to help you grab a snack.”  With that, Sydney flew through Tucker’s ceiling, and Danny leaned back in his chair, a heavy sigh on his lips.  It felt like a lot of pressure just rose off of his chest, though there another pressure entirely coming from his swirling thoughts.

“It’s a damn good thing I got Sydney out of the school before he actually saw Dash doing the shit I ranted to him about.”  They all laughed at that, and Danny felt a bit lighter still.  “Though, I imagine school’d be pretty interesting without him.”

“Yeah, we could actually walk around without worrying about getting shoved into a locker.”  Tucker stretched his limbs out, and Danny felt an ache in his joints just at the reminder.  “What a stereotype.”

“As much as I’m glad to cheer on the virtues of Jazz’s therapy sessions with Sydney,” Sam cut in with a shaky, light laugh of her own.  “We still need to figure this Spectra thing out.”

“I’m looking her up and while she’s not stupid enough to use the same name over and over again, her picture is sorta everywhere over the past five decades,” Tucker muttered.  Danny got up and rested his chin on Tucker’s shoulder, taking in the image of a barely, if at all, changing face go throughout the ages back to the 50s.  “Cause if she’s a ghost, she’s gotta be using a lot of energy to keep looking like that.”

“That’s if she’s a ghost,” Sam said.  There was a long moment of quiet after that, and Sam went off-screen, grabbing some book that looked older than Spectra.  “Guys, you just said a Jinni flew off to get revenge on a ghost, how do we know there aren’t other things out there.”

“Mom and Dad have been to other places before…” Danny felt his hand slipping out of reality as the realization hit him like a football to the face.  “They’ve made so many windows to other places and then if a drone could survive going in, they went in, and then Jazz and I went in with them.  Holy shit, what if there was stuff in there we just couldn’t see?”

“What did Sydney and Agatha call the other side?”  Sam sniffled.  “The Infinite Realms?  There’s probably a whole lot of things that Spectra could be.”

“Based on this track record of depression, she’s either a shitty psychologist who doesn’t get how the human mind works, or she’s fucking up people’s lives on purpose.”  Tucker shifted so Danny could see the news article that he was looking at better.  “That’s a lot of people who went from average mental states to killing themselves, or going into self-isolation.”

“Maybe she likes ruining people’s lives,” Sam muttered.  “There’s plenty of legends and myths about things that like to do that.  Danny, have your parents made anything that might help reveal a supernatural being hiding as a human?”

“I… maybe?  I’ll have to check, I haven’t been paying attention to their weapons or anything lately.”  He had been actively avoiding anything offensive that his parents made besides the plasma rifle he had.  He wasn’t looking to have things go off on him, after all.  “Tuck, you check with Agatha about what Spectra might be and I’ll head home, see what Mom and Dad have worked on.  Sam, you see if you can find anything on, I dunno, emotional vampires or straight-up assholes who love ruining lives in folklore.”

“Can do, captain, but there’s a lot of the latter in every kind of story.”  Sam offered a wave before ending the call and Danny sighed, sagging in his chair.

“Look at you, takin charge like a hero.”  Tucker hugged him again, and Danny leaned into his side.

“Yeah.  Let’s hope I can keep being a hero.”